The Lascivious Monk

CHAPTER VIII. Divine Ablution

Around ten o'clock the next morning the doorbell rang. It was a cheerful ring as if the person who was pulling the rope was very happy. Since the priest was alone on the ground floor-poor Gertrud still could not walk, let alone climb out of her bed-he looked out of the window to see who was there. He was, overjoyed when he saw Georgette who was waiting in front of his home with a happy smile on her face.

A fleeting sneer passed across his face and he thought, “Aha, I knew that my little plan would be successful…”

He quickly wrapped his index finger in the big white bandage which he had kept handy for the purpose, and pinned it against his chest so that it would be clearly visible. Then he went to open the front door.

Georgette was extremely happy… she practically ran into the house, danced for joy and exclaimed, “Aah, Monsignor, I am so terribly happy! The pain is gone, the inflammation broke open and drained completely… all thanks to your cure!”

“God has rewarded you for your faith, my child,” Pineraide sighed, pulling the girl into his bedroom. “You are happy, and that makes me very glad. Unfortunately I cannot say the same for myself.”

“What do you mean, Monsignor?”

“All I want to say,” answered the priest hypocritically, showing his bandaged finger, “is that my finger suddenly developed a severe and very painful inflammation around the nail. It happened all of a sudden in the middle of the night. It must have been because I touched your inflamed finger, and the disease germ must have clung to my skin!”

“Oh, then it is my fault?”

“No, no, my dear child. It is not your fault and you don't have to be so sad about it. Ooh, God, if I were only a woman, then I would not have to suffer very long…”

“Yes, that's true. All you need then is the same remedy I used.”

“But, unfortunately, I am a man, and therefore it's impossible.”

“That's true.”

“Oh, my child, if you would like to…”

“What, Monsignor?”

“Do me a great service…”

“What kind of service?”

“If you would allow me to stick my finger in… ah…”

Georgette blushed deep red.

“But, Monsignor, what are you thinking about?”

“There is nothing serious about it. And surely, God will be very grateful to you…”

“What? I should undress myself before you? I should stand naked in front of a man?”

“A priest of God is not a man, my child.”

“That is true. And, besides, I do not have the right to deny you your wish.”

“You will do it for me?”

“Yes… but under one condition: You must leave the room till I have undressed… otherwise I would die of shame.”

“All right. I will do that.”

“And you definitely cannot come in before I call you.”

“Surely, my child.”

“And, I would like to have your reassurance… I will still become the Queen of Virtue, Monsignor… this will not defile me?”

“Of course not, my child. On the contrary. The finger that I am going to insert into your body is actually God's finger, a hallowed finger. It blesses everything it touches.”

“Then it is all right. Would you please leave the room?”

The priest disappeared quickly into his dining room, and in no time at all had he taken off all his clothes, standing mother-naked in front of the buffet. He deemed it prudent, however, to put his cassock on to hide his nakedness.

Georgette also did not need much time to undress. The dear child firmly believed that she was about to perform a divinely inspired duty, and that her task was a saintly one. She was soon as naked as a newborn child. In this condition she laid down upon the priest's bed, exactly as she had done in her own room. She stood her feet upon two chairs and, to make it easier for the priest to insert his painful finger, she had put a pillow under her firm little buttocks. The chairs were as far apart as possible so that her thighs were spread wide open. After all those preliminaries she took her handkerchief, bound it before her eyes (like children who play Pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey), because she wanted to retain her virtue and did not want to see what was about to happen, and called out, “Monsignor, you can come in!”

“Here I am, my dear child,” answered Pineraide who had been breathlessly waiting on the other side of the door.

When he saw that the young girl had put a blinder before her eyes, the priest was overjoyed. He threw off his cassock and ran over to Georgette who obediently laid down on her back the moment she heard the door open.

The priest, who had had a very restful night and who had become exceedingly horny at the sight of this young, virginal female body, was getting an enormous hard-on. He took his dong in his hand and began to stroke Georgette's tickler with the mighty swollen knob of his prick…

“Ooh, Monsignor,” Georgette sighed, “I can feel your finger… but please, don't move it up and down… against my… against my… well, you know what I mean… I am beginning to get excited, and that is not good when one wants to become Queen of Virtue…”

“Naturally, my dearest child. I will not do it, if you don't want it. I merely did it so that my finger would not hurt you when I stick it in…”

“Are my legs spread wide enough?”

“Oh, yes… though… actually… yes, the opening of your little hole is very tight… Oh, well, I'll have to try nevertheless.”

And the priest put the tip of his prick expertly at the entrance of Georgette's virginal pussy.

“Ooh, aah… I can feel your finger again,” Georgette exclaimed, “but it is so thick and heavy!”

“That's because it is a man's finger…”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“It is quite possible that it might hurt a little bit… you must excuse me if I am a little clumsy. But, being a priest and, naturally, un-. married, I lack certain experiences, if you know what I mean…”

“I will suffer gladly, if it consoles you.”

“God bless you, my child.”

And with an energetic push of his behind, Father Pineraide quickly sank his dong into the tight little hole, which literally fell to pieces under the gigantic onslaught.

“Oh, dear God in Heaven,” cried Georgette, “I have never felt such pain! Did you have to stick your finger in all the way… and without any warning?”

“Yes, my child. I had to do that. It's the only way for the cure to take effect. Now, let me move my finger back and forth a little bit… You do understand that it had to be healed in one session… unfortunately, you are not always around… there, you see… now I shove it in… now I pull it out… now I shove it in again, and now I pull it out…”

“It does not hurt so much any longer.”

“Now I push it to the right, now I shove it to the left, now I am twisting it in the middle… ooh, your natural warmth is beginning to work, I believe… could I push a little bit harder and quicker?… so… aaah… yes, that's it… ah!.. ah!..”

“I am sure it is doing you a lot of good… am I right?”

“I believe so… yes… I… I can feel the excitement… to the tips of my toes… I… I… Oooh, God!.. Aaah, sweet Jesus, holy Virgin Mary… please, please grant me that I can hold back… I… I can't hold it any longer… I… Jesus, Mary… I am coming… ooooh!”

While Pineraide was voluptuously crooning, Georgette exclaimed, deliriously happy, “Oh, Monsignor… I am sure that your boil, has burst… I can feel its warm discharge dearly inside my body!”

And while the abbot disappeared into the dining room to put on his cassock, she murmured sadly, “What a pity that the fluid came so quickly out of Monsignor's finger… I was about to come for the second time!”