Wrath of God (Virtue and Xana)

[Xanaphia]

Countessa Magdelena Galindo began to believe that boredom would be the death of her. Stripped of her fineries, torn from her extensive library, locked in a dingy underground dungeon. So far it was mostly unpleasant, just touching the edge of humiliating. She wouldn’t expect Imprisonment by the Jesuit sect to be congenial, but couldn’t they at least leave her a bible to peruse?

What crime had she committed? The charge was witchcraft but what that actually meant could have been a number of things. That she was single at the ripe old age of 25? That she was well read, in three languages, including English, Spanish and Arabic? That she was a woman who wielded a degree of power and influence because of her wealth and status? That she was a non-believer? Whether or not God actually existed more mostly irrelevant to her; she very much doubted a supreme being cared all that much about the minute details of human affairs.

Whatever cardinal sin they were imprisoning her for, she didn’t expect it would take too much to secure her freedom. A promise of a generous monetary donation to the Church, forfeiture of sacrilegious materials, or agreeing to a marriage proposal of a good, Christian man, no doubt. It had only been a few hours in confinement, but she would be willing to agree to a great many things to secure her freedom. Words were cheap, and easy to give.

Still, from the looks of it, her imprisonment took little toll on her physically. Curly black hair still framed her heart shaped face, cerulean eyes standing in stark contrast to her dark hair and fair skin. The woolen shift did her figure little justice, just barely clinging to the curves of her bosom and hips, but otherwise shapeless. Truthfully, it was not any fault of her looks that resulted in her single status, but of her ego, her own stubbornness to be ruled by a man.

Footsteps descended from the stairs, her first visitor since the nuns disrobed her. Had it been an hour, or two? Longer? There was no sun down her, just the soft crackling of torches that made shadows dance along the walls.

 

[Xanaphia]

Magdalena blinked as the pair of figures came into view. Under the darkness of the underground jail, it was difficult to make out faces or features until they were just outside her cell. A petite woman, positively drowning in her habit, little more than frightened grey eyes that made contact with hers for but a moment. Behind her was a man, wearing own robes, same as all the priests here. Unlike the nun, he wore it, owned it, stood out with a definite presence.

His features had a predatory air to them, making him seem almost hawkish as he looked down upon her. Looking as of he could swoop down at anytime, and pluck her from the safety of the ground, razor claws digging into her flesh. His voice was light as he spoke to the nun, dismissing her for what needed to be done, at odds with the fierce look of hunger that seemed to drip from his gaze.

"Please Countessa, kneel and pray with me. We must exorcise the demons out of your body."

It was difficult not to snicker at his words and request. Instead she tightened her mouth, swallowing down her contempt as she shifted to her knees, placing her soft, unworked hands in his rough ones. Did all priests have such calloused palms, or did he in particular work himself harder than the others.

Regardless of how she felt about her accusations, and the church at large, she decided that playing along was in her best interest for now. Once she secured her freedom, she had several recourses for retaliation and protection. Whatever madness gripped the church in thinking they could hold her for long, soon enough her friends and allies at court would hear of her imprisonment, and the backlash would be harsh.

She let the father lead the prayer, repeating his words when necessary. Once he had finished, she forced herself to meet his eyes, the same eyes that seemed to drink her in like a full bodied glad of wine.

"Tell me, Father, how does one exorcise the demons from my body? And how do we know when they are banished?" Her words held only the thinnest veil of disregard, trying to gauge the man's level of faith and conviction in his work.

 

[Xanaphia]

Magdelena didn’t expect that her comment would have being welcomingly received, but she hadn’t anticipated how badly it would go over until she was face down in the dirt, blood from her lip and nose pooling on the ground. She figure there would be violent in their questioning, but she didn’t expect it before questioning even began.

Moreover, she didn’t expect the throbbing erecting hiding under the father’s robes. It’s red head caught her eyes, unable to move them or look away. Of course, priests were men , and subject to the same physical realities of men, so it shouldn’t have been so surprising to see his biology functioning properly. Still, Magdelena was shocked, unable to defend herself as she was forced on her back, and the Father climbed between her legs. If seeing his erection had completely stunned her, she couldn’t explain the sensation of realizing he intended to rape her, not completely processing it until he was inside her.

She might have wanted to stage a private rebellion, resist him at every turn. But the shock of what he was doing to her, completely unexpected nature of it had her off guard. So she shrieked as he pierced her with his length, driving into her depths with utter malice and lust written in his eyes. The countess was not a virgin, despite her unwed status. She didn’t ascribe to the church’s severe views of female sexuality, so why should she follow it? Still, having taken a lover or two had not prepared her for the horror of her violation, even as she was sure it would be evidence against her innocence.

Her ever increasing screams filled the dungeons as he filled her, forcing her open to his desire, tearing past her unyielding flesh. Even though the assault did not last long, it was incredibly painful throughout, and she was left bloody as he finished inside her. She stared at his crotched, stained with her blood and his semen, the proof of her defilement at his hands.

This would not stand! It was madness enough to take her, to hold her on flimsy charges such as witchcraft. It was another thing entirely to have her raped by a priest. She would have the man hung for this. Pain and hate quaked her slender form, nails digging into her own flesh as she imaged the ways she might have her revenge. But she wasn’t given much time to fantasize before the priest came back to retrieve her, carrying her off to a private chamber. She fought all the while, doing her little good against the far larger man. He pushed her down over a wooden implement, tying her wrists and ankles to the lags so she was secure, and spread open for him. Like this, she could feel his slimy sperm slipping down her thighs. How much more would she endure before help would free her?

 

[Xanaphia]

Strained screams filled the private chambers of Father Cebas, Magdelena doing her damnedest to deny him the satisfaction of her pain, but the whip was painful, as it tore and ripped at her skin. He prosthelytized her, threatening her with hell for her crimes.


“If I am going to hell, I will see you there. I’ve read the bible, cover to cover, and nowhere does it say that you may rape a witch in your custody. Do you think the demons of hell will threat you with more kindness than you have treated me?” She spat as him putting forth as much bravado as she could muster, given the situation. Her anger fueled her well, even if it wasn’t wise to goad a man who held such power over her, especially while she was in his custody.

Instead of whipping her further, she felt his finger grazing her abused sex. It felt softer than before, when his calloused hand gripped her hips as he raped her. He wasn’t cruel this time, just rubbing her inner walls as he spoke of the finality of her fate. Still, she winced and squirmed, still tender from her earlier violation, and disgusted by the feel of his hands against her nude body.

“You know damn well there is no witches or covens. You may as well get your fill of me now father, before I am released and I have you killed for your crimes. You better rape me enough to make your trip to hell worthwhile.” The countess didn’t believe such a place existed, but he did, and that was the only reason to turn his terrorization back at him.

 

[Xanaphia]

Magdelena groaned as the Father groped at her breasts, feeling them grow erect under his touch. Bound as she was by the leather horse, there was little she could do but squirm, unable to evade him in the slightest. Groans became wails as he applied the clamps, exacerbating the throbbing ache of blood filled nipples. And he was violating her once more, two fingers filling her, spreading her soft inner flesh apart. It wasn’t as rough as her rape at his hands, but just as humiliating, knowing she could do nothing but let it happen. Only plot her revenge, imagine the ways she would return his humiliation.

It didn’t take long before he was raping her once more, her slit still tender and sensitive from her first defilement. Slicker this time, aided by the lubrication from being fingered, but by no means pleasant or pleasurable. Her breasts hung down, swaying in time with his thrusts, causing her painfully engorged nipples to pulse. He demanded an orgasm, an act she believe he would use as proof of her damnation.

“You think you are capable of bring anyone to pleasure, father?” she taunted, trying to hold back the pained cries as he fucked her raw. Still, it felt different than the first time, not nearly as painful if still just as cruel. How would she affected by his constant assaults? Would it always be horror for her, or would she learn to accept her torment. Would she learn to crave it? Would her sanity ever fully recover or would she be tainted by what he had done and left within her?

The sound of the opening door behind them drew her attention, if not the father’s as he continued to violate her. A shrill gasp followed it, even louder than the father’s grunts or her own cries.

“Father Sebas! What in God’s name are you doing to her?” The nun screeched, eyes wide in utter terror as she witnessed this most unholy desecration. While it was true that witches resisted the truth and goodness of God with all their might, this was not a way to draw a confession from them.