A kaleidoscope of soft yet vivid colors made their slow crawl along the floor of the Abbess's chambers; a geometric explosion of jewel-toned glass, like a prismatic rainbow, was the obvious centerpiece. She stood there, back to me, and bathed in colorful glow. Posture strong, upright, she held herself erect; shoulders squared and with a figure that defied the decrepit nature of a typical Abbess.
"Ah, a visitor, and an emissary of the faith." Her voice had no timbre at all, as if it were but an echo from deep within. There seemed nothing alive or real about this woman; a shadow of a woman draped in fitting, midnight cloth.
"Yes, reverent mother." I said, "Unfortunately, this visit is not for pleasure, and I serve as an acting Puricant, to be specific." 'Puricant', the title felt sour in my mouth, spoken in a kind of disbelief; as if speaking the title into existence affirmed its responsibilities. I suppose the Cardinal had seen something in me. Devotion, maybe, or some sense of what could have been if I stayed the course. Youth, vigor, strength...the spark of hope and curiosity that veteran Puricant’s oft lacked. He saw promise. The truth is I'd always wanted to see the world beyond our borders, the great cities, the ancient ruins of a time long forgotten, ensuring that the sanctuaries of God, our God, remained stalwart; the adjudication of this abbey would be my first.
"So young?" The Abbess had yet to face me; not even the slightest crook of her neck, "How interesting. I can hear it in your voice, the timidity. The caution."
"I am quite well qualified, thank you for asking, mother abbess."
"Oh, do not be insulted. I find it rather...curious, is all; a pleasant surprise. The errand of Puricant is often bestowed upon the incorruptible. It is a rank commonly held by experienced, callous men; pessimist. I suspect you are none of those things." It was strange, how the shadow-touched silhouettes of furniture seemed to dance in the darkness. It was all encompassing, nipping at my heels, and would've overtaken the both of us had it not been for that kaleidoscopic beam of stained glass.
Struck with indignance and humiliation by the senior sister's implication, I steeled by passions. The responsibility of the convent, some fifty or so girls, rested almost entirely upon her shoulders. These times were trying indeed and she'd every right to be wary of my presence, for all that it implied.
"I am indeed a Puricant, sister, sent here on His Holiest' authority. While The Church does not suspect your cloister of taint, Satan's infernal influence has penetrated even the strongest of citadels, where the faith of Our Lord should have been unbreakable. Sin is a terrible vine, an innocuous sapling that propagates into a writhing mass of choking death.”
The room was silent. In an almost imperceptible gesture, the Abbess placed a hand upon her bosom, “Beautiful, your conviction. I am pleased that it was you to be sent here as justiciar.” Even the slightest turn was like a bird of prey in flight, delicate yet powerful, each motion guided by a precise measure of grace; she turned to face me, beauty incarnate.
"If there were any doubts, they will no longer linger when this evening comes to pass." Her smile flashed brightly through me, cutting straight through flesh and bone, touching the most secret of places. The sinful parts. Much like a raptor’s, the Abbess’ sharpened gaze sunk into me like talons. Her eyes were red. Red! They glowered like the fiery coals of perdition, sanguine sapphires. So vivid, such intensity...a true beacon, blasting me with heat. As if touched by flame.
Lust was replaced, no, mixed with dread as I steeled just enough of my waning conscious to look upon her lips; as jet as the moonless night, the fleshy corners of her cheeks split into a jagged maw of leering fangs.
A trance must’ve been placed upon me, for as my senses cloyed to the surface of consciousness, the distance between us was no more. The forsaken mother superior was not an elderly crone, wreathed in loosely fitting drapes of black. No, she was a figure of Michelangelo’s inspiration. Beauty divine. Chiseled from the brimstone galleries of a the infernal court and every enticing inch screamed to be held before it melted away into a warm puddle of desire-sodden pleasure. My tongue became heavy, unable to move against the press of her plump ebon lips which pressed on mine like two overripe cherries, sweet juice spilling down my throat. A haze overtook me; like drugged wine, potent and dangerous. Assassins blades, her teeth were, pricking my soft flesh with stinging pokes that drew simple beads of blood with delicate precision.
“Such a gift, you are.” She said in breathy tones, speaking each word slowly, savoring them in turn with a sensuous tone and smoldering timbre. Her hot fingers trailed across my neck and along the sensitive skin behind my earlobes; even the slightest touch sent ripples through my body and I shivered at the sensation, struggling to find purchase upon reality. Her kisses weren't the stuffy ones of love; no tender caresses or deep yearnings; they burned with purposeful intent, a carnal need for her to take what she wanted...and quickly! The Lord was my strength, or so I attempted to remind myself in a pathetic yet desperate attempt to keep the unearthly nature of this encounter from stealing my very soul. “Does my body excite you? My master has given it to me.”
My hand twitched involuntarily, reaching out to touch her, but the woman's lips continued their hungry work on me as if I hadn't moved a muscle. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, a slow rhythm, seductive, and all too brief as the kiss broke away. I'm ashamed to admit that while all other sense fled away in a flood of red and white, and all of my instincts screamed at me to flee and never look back, my traitorous hand crept up to the nape of her neck where she'd been touched, "Mmmm." She sighed longingly, purring like an aroused cat.
"Yes..." I managed a feeble reply, feeling every bit of blood flow south. What insane pleasure, just one more moment with those fangs would have had me begging for more; "You are...so beautiful."
The Abbess leaned into my words; not taking in any information about what kind of beauty I meant, but rather leaning in with such ferocity as to become lost inside of it; pressing herself against my chest until our hearts were beating as one. That pounding heart thrummed a similar pulse, causing both of us to tremble at the contact and heat which swirled around between us. We stood there like that for a good long time, breathing together and sharing breaths, though no air ever passed between our lips. Then I felt it, the slickness of her moistened digits, already lubricated with the trailing discharge of her cursed womanhood; she already been well at work on herself, fingers ravenous and needy in their haste to plunge themselves into her very core.
While the heatwave of infernal ecstasy turned my resolve to slag, I couldn’t pull my gaze from the nun’s mutated maw; crooked fangs curled into a bastardized smile. “The others have yet to experience this, a apotheosis not only of the flesh, but the spirit as well. God never answered my prayers. He let age whither me, let disease take my sisters. My new master has heard all my prayers, long before I even thought to pray them! Let him know my faithfulness!" Her eyes closed slowly, in a momentary show of reverence for an unknown power beyond mortal understanding or control. "I will give you more than your justiciar duties in his service; more than your life."
A floodgate had burst open, unleashing every pent up emotion; feelings once kept secret behind the walls of denial had become freed in a torrential rush as the sins of years poured out through my body's pores, oozing over every inch of skin that it touched, filling every crevice with lustful desires. It was intoxicating to say the least.
"I want you to worship me," The Abbess said, pushing back the material covering her hips and showing me what lay beneath.