The 70th Sin

"I don't have to remind you of the seriousness of your task," Father Vrice said to me. His eyes were very alert, revealing none of the weariness I was feeling for having been roused from my home an hour before dawn.

"I am honored to be entrusted," I said meekly. Father Vrice frowned at me, a look of disgust wrinkling his forehead. I was used to that look from the clergy. As the largest buyer of books in the city, I had often come across prejudice from the religious authorities. My collection had been inspected twice for deviant influences, and every time the Church found nothing, they acted as if I had employed dark magic to hide the books they wanted to find. You don't need dark magic to hide a book, just a cleverly constructed bookshelf. It's amazing the lengths a man has to go through just to conceal a curious collection of Arabian love stories.

"We wouldn't have asked you if it wasn't for your ability to write as fast you can," Father Vrice reminded me.

"It's a gift from God," I said piously. Father Vrice flinched again.

"Remember, the witch, Sarah Bedford, burns at dawn tomorrow," Father Vrice said as he unlocked six of the large bolts to the prison door. "She has many sins to confess. As a disgraced nun, she must unburden her soul of as many sins as possible. Her soul depends upon it."

"Write down everything she confesses," Father Vrice emphasized. He turned to me, and appeared to me to tower over me, his eyes boring right through my heart. "Leave anything out, and you hamper the Church's ability to find others of her kind. This will be considered an act of Heresy. Do you need further instructions?"

I cracked my knuckles. "If I have till dawn tomorrow, we need to start."

To my surprise, he laughed. "Certainly, meals shall be provided." Father Vrice opened the door to show a long, curving flight of steps.

"You're not coming with me?" I asked as I stepped through the door. In answer, he closed the door on me, and I heard the six locks bolt. I was relieved. Father Vrice represented everything that was wrong with the Church, and I was glad to be free of him. If Europe were ever to enter the 19th century with any sort of dignity, it would have to rise above the petty fears of the outdated Church.

I descended the steps, entering the bowels of the Church's dreaded torture chambers. It occurred to me that I might be the first person to walk these steps that wasn't either a heretic, or a torturer. I drew amusement from this, a sense of superiority. If I hadn't been such a lover of books, and a lover of writing, I wouldn't posses the lightning fast writing ability that was needed by the Church. If I was poor, or knew the right people, I might have become a heretic I suppose, but instead I was now needed by the very institution that despised me so much.

The bottom of the stairs opened into a dark and forbidding room. Four torches illuminated the walls, the smoke leaving through small chutes. The place was cleaner than I expected; no spider webs or pools of dried blood. The rack was there, as was various cages, and a long row of sharp implements. There was a lack of religious icons that surprised me. I would have thought the Church would want crucifixes so that Jesus on the Cross could watch over the torture of the unfaithful.

My cynicism was displaced by wonder as I looked upon the witch, Sarah Bedford. She was strapped by her wrists and ankles into an iron chair. For some reason they allowed her to continue to wear her nun garb, although it was torn and rent, most noticeably around her chest. It looked like the torturers ripped her shirt open to fondle her large, pale breasts. That was a blasphemous thought, even for me, and I quickly tried to disregard it. I tore my eyes from the pale globes, and her rosy nipples to look at her face.

An impish smile greeted my gaze; not what I expected from someone about to be burned tomorrow. Her face was pale, almost alabaster, but her eyes were pure, deep blue. A small nose adorned her face while long, straight, blonde hair fell carelessly around her face. A jeweled earring dangled from her ear, and I was surprised the Church hadn't removed it yet. Despite the paleness of her skin, she possessed a vitality about her that was infectious.

"Sit down, please," Sarah said, as if she was a host and not bound to her chair. Her voice was husky, betraying the image of innocence her face portrayed.

I sat down at a table that had been brought there for my purpose. There was a huge amount of paper, and more vials of ink than I expected to need. The Church was serious in their efforts of cataloging her sins. There was even a pitcher of wine and some cheese.

"Are you here to record my sins?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," I said. I looked at her, and my eyes kept slipping from her young face to her heavy breasts.

"Bring the table closer," she asked, no, commanded. "It's to be a long day, and I don't want to get hoarse yelling across the room."

I did as she asked, bringing the table closer to her. Sitting only three feet away from the witch, I could smell the scent of her perfume, a thick smell of lavender, and unmistakably, the tangy smell of sex. It took all of my self- control not to breathe deeply, to soak in that wonderful arousing aroma.

"We should begin," I said, more to myself than to her. "Please tell me of your first sin under your worship of Satan."

Sarah laughed a strange, lilting laugh I would have expected to hear at a late night party, and not a torturer's chamber. She breathed deeply, perhaps savoring that very smell I wanted to examine for myself. It had the effect of causing her large breasts to rise and fall most distractingly.

"Satan?" Sarah responded. "There were dark creatures and darker powers before the Jews stumbled out of the desert," she snapped. "Satan and Lucifer are just names for the ignorant to use when they lack the education to understand the multitude of lust that is in the world. Each of the cravings in the world have different names, and their own peculiar methods of worship."

I sat up straighter, my interest teased. This was one of my secret hopes - that the world was much more interesting that the Church or humanity allowed. I wrote down what she said, a powerful excitement coming over me as I wrote. It occurred to me that I was in a unique position. I was having a conversation with someone who had experienced secret, forbidden things that I had only read hints about. It was intolerable to me that with my superior education and wide interests, I hadn't discovered anything that wasn't already known to the masses. It looked like that was about to change.

"I see you wish to hear more," Sarah said. "Have you noticed the Lusts I am talking about? Have you ever read an arousing book, and wondered why it made your heart race so fast? Have you looked in on a congregation, seen a pious woman overcome with religious fervor and scream in ecstasy, and noticed how that bliss seemed almost orgasmic? Did you ever wonder why, if the body was God's gift, that the one function your body performed that gave you so much pleasure was the one the Bible forbid the most?"

"Yes," I answered, leaning closer to her as her voice dropped steadily in volume. It was a soft, feminine whisper she used; the kind of soft whisper that told secrets under blankets, or words of desires in a crowded party. "It does seem odd that God was against something he designed in us."

"It's a simple answer really," Sarah promised. "My story begins with my first sin - I masturbated late one night in the darkest of nights. I quenched a fire that had plagued me since I turned 14. What made it a sin was that I liked it."

Sarah went on to elaborate on that fateful night, and I recorded it all. She continued to speak in her husky whisper, telling me of her first experiment with bliss, her first gasps of orgasm. It was certainly a sinful experience for me as she told me of the delight she felt, a simple nun recently initiated and yet already pleasuring herself.

"Nuns are the brides of God, and I felt as if I was cheating on Him with my night games," Sarah whispered. "Of course, as good as it felt to cheat on Him by myself, it was only a matter of time before I wanted to expand my pleasure by cheating with others."

I swallowed. It was impossible to shake the image of her, masturbating secretly, from my head. I imagined her long, blond hair spread out on her pillow, the dull blankets concealing her nude body writhing and heaving. In fact, I fantasized briefly on this image for a solid minute, yet the witch waited patiently as I daydreamed. Only when I shook my head did she continue her confession.

"That is when the Cult found me," Sarah whispered. "They sought me out, and spoke to me of my terrible affair I was conducting. I was surprised that they knew, and thought for sure it would be the end of me, but I was delightfully wrong. It was just the beginning."

Then Sarah told me of the long rituals she participated in, whispering seductively the entire time. Diligently I wrote it all down, from the long orgy with the other members of the Cult to the disturbing acts she committed with a Bible and a crucifix. Not a single detail did she leave out from her account. From her first taste of a man's seed to her first taste of a woman's sex, Sarah elaborated and discussed every damning moment. And this was just her second sin.

"A few of my sins was simply the acquirement of knowledge," Sarah confessed, a smile on her full lips. "Knowledge is the worst sin of all. There are dark things that need to be known before they can reach you. Ignorance IS bliss if you desire a life devoid of adventure. But if you want a life with the Gods of Pleasure, then you need to know of them first."

I asked if she meant for "gods" to be capitalized. Sarah giggled a girlish laugh devoid of stress.

"Oh yes," she answered. "There are so many Gods of Pleasure, angry, hungry Gods that demand constant worship. There is a Goddess for oral pleasure, a God of copulating in the buttocks, a Goddess for poor fools who have a sexual craving for feet and many, many more. Once a mortal makes contact with these Gods by engaging in their perversity, the God responds with the divine bliss of an orgasm. In fact, it's the contact that causes the orgasm."

"But that would mean there is a God for normal sex," I interrupted.

"Of course," Sarah whispered. There was approval in her eyes. "Venus, Ishtar, Isis and other names for sex were worshipped before Christ's God. Those are the old Goddesses, bloated from the constant worship they receive. That's why their orgasms can be fleeting, or even more powerful than the darker Gods. Sometimes they have enormous power to share, some days they are spent. Either way, these old Goddesses don't crave worshippers like the Dark Gods do."

"What is the difference?" I asked. Fear and doubt were running through my mind. Did I really contact a Goddess when I cajoled Elizabeth into doing that blissful act last month?

"Ah," Sarah sighed. "The Darker Gods crave worship, and when orgasms aren't enough to bring a worshipper back, they sometimes resort to offering power. They can be quite jealous, growing angry and cruel when a worshipper tries to stop indulging in their particular perversity. Better yet, some Darker Gods are so repellent and abhorrent, no one ever worships them. These Gods are the ones that offer raw magical power, just for one rare sex act."

Again I was assailed by visions of this lovely, decadent woman, nude and performing perverse acts for the notice of some ancient power. The only thing that saved my sanity was that my limited imagination couldn't conceive of what these acts may be.

"Now, let me tell about those poor, neglected, Gods," Sarah whispered. To my horror, she did.

Hours passed, as slowly as the bead of sweat that trickled down her neck and over her left breast. Food was brought by a knock on the door, and then slid through a slot, so I never had a break of human contact while recording Sarah's sins. I offered food to Sarah, but the hedonist refused to pause in her accounts. The beautiful yet tainted blonde had a passion for telling her tales. Perhaps she had begun to fear for her soul, and desired only to make amends for her numerous acts against God and nature.

Sarah Bedford recounted her sins, rapidly. In her low, husky whisper she told me of the various Gods she worshipped, of the numerous acts of self-degradation she performed, and of the almost mythical pleasures she experienced. With her fifteenth sin, she gained as a reward, her large, luscious breasts. As soon as she said this, I turned to look at her bare breasts and she laughed.

"Go ahead, inspect them if you like," Sarah tempted.

I leaned over, looking at her round breasts, searching for something to betray their infernal origin. All I discovered was that their roundness and firmness didn't have a hint of sagging or a sign of gravity's pull. There were also two small scars under her nipples that reminded me of bite marks, and I blushed at the thought.

"You saw my scars," Sarah commented. "In a vision, I was told that in the future, women will knowingly scar themselves in order to have breasts like mine. I only wonder if they know which Hellish God they would have to thank when it comes. I wonder how strong and powerful he will become when so many women carry his mark. Oh, how I wish I could live long enough to see it!"

I shuddered, recalling the foul act she had to perform for her breasts. I prayed her vision was just a hallucination, and that the bestial God she invoked would never become so strong on Earth. Looking at her perfect breasts, I knew it was inevitable.

Sarah Bedford had sixty-nine sins in all to confess. Sixty-nine acts of perversity and sexual deviance that she endured as she submitted herself to the will of dark Gods and Goddesses. I shuddered as I recorded her events, yet I was also aroused by the decadence she enjoyed that I could never hope to approach myself. I felt like an ignorant fool, congratulating myself for my broad reading and occasional sexual gratification while Sarah and her cult were using real knowledge for true pleasure. I wrote everything down as the day turned into night, and as the night approached dawn. Oddly, my hands never cramped in my labors. Perhaps my body was just as curious for her experience as my mind.

"Dawn is approaching," Sarah said in a normal voice as I completed writing her final sin. Her volume startled me; it was the first time she had stopped whispering since we started. I suddenly felt very tired, exhausted by the long ordeal.

"Before they come to burn me, allow me one last wish in exchange for what I have told you," Sarah asked. I waved my hand in agreement, too tired to speak.

"Stand up," Sarah commanded, and for some reason, I did.

"Undo your pants," Sarah commanded. She looked strange - bound, bare chested in her nun's uniform, and her blue eyes looking at my pants. Again, I did as she asked, releasing my cock. My exhausted member was limp and dangling down, despite the presence of the beautiful witch.

I didn't need to be told what to do next. I moved between Sarah's bound legs and held my flaccid cock to her mouth. She sucked me in without a word. Her tongue lapped at my cock, flickering rapidly over my foreskin. My hands reached out and stroked her silky blonde hair, trying not to remember the feat for which she earned this wonderful hair.

My cock grew to life within her mouth. As exhausted as I was, I still had the strength to be hard. Sarah's mouth nibbled and licked my cock, coating it with her spit and coaxing it to a terrible potency. Once my cock was stiff between her lips, she began to move her head so she could fuck me with her mouth. I groaned with pleasure, never having been pleasured so deliberately before. Sarah had none of the hesitancy that sometimes ruins oral pleasures; she constantly devoured my cock and never paused in her attentions.

My hands strayed from her hair and groped her breasts. I held her nipples as her head moved faster on my cock. Bound as she was, her chest was vulnerable to every embrace and touch I wanted to inflict. I don't know what came over me, but as Sarah sucked harder on my cock, I fondled her breasts with the same savagery. I pulled, I squeezed and I tugged at her round breasts, satisfying every whim as my scrotum collided with her chin.

My ejaculation was an act of Paradise, spilling forth like rain from the heavens. My knees trembled but my body held its ground as I emptied my essence into Sarah's mouth. It felt like my body was contracting on itself, pulling so that it could travel through my hard cock, expel through my tip, pour through Sarah's lush lips, and down her throat.

I blacked out from the pleasure, but quickly recovered. Somehow, I had managed to sit down and pull my pants back up, but I felt a lingering of pain in my chest. Also, something salty was in my mouth.

Father Vrice walked in, and I tried to rise to greet him. Denials were flashing through my mind, praying that he didn't know of the act Sarah and I had just committed. When I tried to rise, I found myself restrained around my ankles and wrists. I looked at my restraints, and screamed with horror at the sight of two large, female breasts sprouting from my chest!

"Silence," a male voice said as it pinched my mouth. I looked up to see my reflection looking down at me. A drop of semen fell from the cock in front of me.

"Did he write it all down?" Father Vrice asked as he collected my papers.

"Yes," Sarah/I answered. It was my body, but it was Sarah's impish smile that looked down on me.

"Excellent. When you go into hiding, we'll publish your book secretly," Father Vrice said. "It was a shame that you were discovered, and I understand your desire to live a life in exile, but at least your experiences won't be lost. With this book, the Dark Gods will be discovered by any who seek the knowledge of the perverse."

Sarah pulled up her pants and stuffed a sheet of blank paper in my mouth. "Exile won't be so bad. At least I'll have a new perspective to entertain myself with. I wonder if I'll have to rededicate myself to the Dark Gods now that I have a new body."

Father Vrice shrugged. "I don't know the answer to that one. You had better leave though. We'll be burning your body shortly."

I tried to scream, but it was hopeless. I watched impotently as Sarah climbed the stairs, planning to desecrate my body the same way she had done hers. The devilish witch never looked back.

The end.