by Paul Preston
Brother William: I understand… It doesn’t matter if I ever see you again, Magdalena. I’ll still love you for the rest of my life. Could you do one last thing for me?
Magdalena: Yes.
Brother William: Could I have something to remember you by? May I… look upon you, just for a short moment?
Magdalena looks toward the door and then bows her head and nods. She turns away from William and unbuttons the front of her dress. When she turns back to him, her breasts are exposed. The camera focuses for a long moment on Magdalena’s breasts and William’s eyes as he gazes upon them.
Brother William: God, they’re so lovely.
Magdalena: Thank you, William.
Brother William: Is this really happening? Please tell me the truth. Am I actually here, seeing your beautiful breasts?
Magdalena: Yes, William.
Brother William: They’re so pretty and swollen. Your nipples are dripping with milk.
Magdalena: Yes.
Brother William: I seem to remember… Have I tasted your sweet nectar, Magdalena? Have I?
Magdalena looks down shamefully and nods her head once.
Brother William: And please, before they take me away, can you tell me? Did I lose my virginity with you?
Magdalena: The first time I met you… we kissed and… God forgive me... it’s true… you kissed my breasts and… I made love to you… but… you didn’t… finish… inside my womb… rather… I pleasured you… with my mouth. It only happened, just that one time. So you are still a virgin, William. Please believe me, I never meant for any of this to happen. If my husband were ever to find out…
Brother William: I will take our secret to my grave, Magdalena. Then I have not gone completely mad, after all. Can you come closer to me?
Magdalena smiles, nods yes and steps toward him.
Brother William watches as a single drop of milk seeps out of her nipple. He follows the droplet over her puffy areola and watches it slide over the mound of her breast and down her torso. He begins to feel faint and sways back on his heels.
Brother William: I am in the presence of God…
Brother William faints and Magdalena catches his body before he hits the ground.
Magdalena: William!
Magdalena lowers Brother William gently to the floor. A knock is heard and she quickly buttons up the front of her dress.
Magdalena: Come in.
Father England and the hooded monk enter.
Father England: What happened?
Magdalena: He’s fainted, Father.
Father England: He looks sickly. I don’t like his color.
Father England kneels down by Brother William’s body and checks his pulse and respiration.
Father England: His heart has stopped. He’s stopped breathing.
Magdalena: No! That can’t be! I was just talking to him!
Father England: He has no pulse. I’m afraid… Call the Doctor, Brother Monk.
The hooded monk nods and leaves. Father England places Brother William’s arms across his chest.
Father England: Brother William has passed away.
Magdalena: What! No!
Magdalena takes the limp body of Brother William in her arms and begins to violently shake it.
Magdalena: William! Wake up! No!
Father England stops Sister Magdalena from shaking William and she collapses in the Father’s arms, weeping.
Father England: He is gone, Sister. Brother William is with God now.
Father England takes Magdalena’s hand and they kneel together by William’s side. Father William shuts his eyes and prays.
Father England: Dear Father, take into Heaven the soul of this young man, Brother William. He was an innocent boy, prone to sexual thoughts and a slave to his desires, as most young men are. He came to us only a few days ago to commit his life to Christ. Though he was a good boy, I’m afraid his spirit was willing but his flesh was weak. Let him be bathed in the warmth of Your Everlasting Light. In God’s Name we pray, Amen.
As Father England silently continues to pray, a Gregorian chant is heard softly in the background. The camera focuses on Magdalena’s face. Tears slide down her cheeks. She shuts William’s eyes with her fingertips. The camera focuses on William’s face in repose. Brother William’s lips seem to curl up slightly in a beatific smile at her touch. Words appear on the screen.
FIN.
After the screen faded to black, I turned to Mr. Bergman to ask him what he thought. He appeared quite interested in the amateurish film. After complimenting me on my performance, Mr. Bergman made a rather perceptive observation. He said “The Monastery” attempted to bridge the chasm in man’s soul between our sensual and spiritual natures, between the profane and the divine. I told him I’d never really thought about the film in that way before. I thanked him for his nice words about my acting in the film and told him I greatly appreciated his comments. I was quite moved by what Mr. Bergman said. It was the first time anyone other than Elizabeth said something positive about my work in The Monastery. Mr. Bergman asked me what happened between Elizabeth and me next.
“Are you sure I’m not boring you, sir?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Mr. Bergman said.
“Do you have any other patients to visit?”
“Are you feeling tired, James?”
“No, Mr. Bergman.”
“Then I am happy to spend the rest of my visit here with you. Please continue your story.”
Chapter Ten
The Property of Edward James
I heard Farnsworth say, “Cut! That’s a wrap,” as if we were in a fancy Hollywood studio instead of his stuffy odorous home in Chula Vista. When I tried to open my eyes at the end of the filming, my lids felt extremely heavy. Though I could clearly hear everyone’s voices around me, it was strange. I couldn’t open my eyes. I heard Farnsworth’s voice over me.
“That was great, Elizabeth. You really nailed that scene.”
“Thanks, Peter.”
“Listen, I made reservations at a fancy French restaurant in the Gaslamp. Would you care to celebrate the end of our filming over a nice bottle of Beaujolais and discuss our next—”
“I’m afraid I have a previous engagement, Peter, but thank you for the offer.”
I felt Elizabeth pat my cheeks lightly.
“What’s wrong with Edward?” Elizabeth said when I didn’t respond to her touch.
“He looks like he’s sleeping,” Farnsworth said.
“He’s not responding. He’s not waking up. What’s wrong with him?” Elizabeth’s voice said, with a quivering voice.
I felt a cold glass of water pour over my face and the sound of a deep unfamiliar male’s voice.
“Wake up, you funny fucker,” the voice said.
“Don’t call him that, Roger! And stop pouring water on him! Untie his wrists!” Elizabeth shouted.
“Okay, Princess. Don’t get your pretty panties in a twirl,” I heard the man named Roger say.
I felt the rope come off my wrists.
“Come on, Edward. Get up. No joking around. The show’s over,” Farnsworth said, gruffly.
I felt Farnsworth’s cold hand pick up my wrist and check my pulse. After a heated exchange, it was decided I should be taken to the hospital. I heard an argument break out over whether they should call an ambulance or just throw me in the back of the car. Farnsworth complained how expensive it is to call an ambulance and Elizabeth argued, accusing Farnsworth of being cheap and not caring whether I lived or died. Finally, I felt my body being picked up and carried outside and placed into the back of Farnsworth’s Station Wagon. Elizabeth held my hand on the bumpy ride to the hospital. The shag carpet my head rested on smelled musty. The tires must have been nearly bald because I felt every bump on the way. They carried me into the ER of Scripps Mercy in Chula Vista, my first of many upcoming trips to the hospital. A few minutes later I heard the voice of a nurse ask if I’d been drinking or taking drugs. Then I heard a cracking sound, breathed in
the strong smell of ammonia and opened my eyes wide. I saw four pairs of eyes staring down at me on a couch in the hospital’s waiting room.
“Edward!” Elizabeth said, squeezing my hand.
“His vital signs are fine. He just fainted. He’ll be OK,” the nurse said.
“Welcome back, Sunshine,” a husky male voice said. “You must be one of those Method Actors.”
“Shut up, Roger,” Elizabeth said.
I later learned Roger was the guy who worked at Farnsworth’s sex shop and “discovered” Elizabeth. He had played the non-speaking part of the hooded monk in the last scene of the movie.
Elizabeth helped me back to Farnsworth’s car in the dark of night, her arm holding me firmly around my waist. It was nice to know she cared about me. On the ride back, she rested her head on my shoulder.
“You really scared me back there, Edward,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I don’t know what happened to me,” I replied, embarrassed once again.
“I think you got a little too much into your part.”
“You’re probably right.”
On the ride back to Hillcrest in her car, she held my hand. I never felt happier in my life.
“You were really good in that last scene, Edward.”
“Thanks, but your performance in the film was outstanding, I thought. I think you could be a legitimate movie star, if you wanted. I really do. And I’m not just saying that because I like you, Elizabeth.”
“Really? You must really want to get laid tonight.”
“No, I mean it. You’re a naturally gifted actress. I had such a great time working with you.”
“OK, you can spend the night with me again, young man.”
Elizabeth had started calling me “young man” after we started filming the movie and it just seemed to feel right, both in the world of the film and in our real life. Another major thing we inherited from Brother William and Sister Magdalena was a mutual enjoyment of kinky sex. When I first saw Elizabeth in character against the brick wall with a vulnerable look in her eyes, her arms tied above her head, ready to be whipped and spanked, I was hooked. I used my last paycheck from Denny’s to buy all sorts of kinky sex toys and accessories from Farnsworth’s store. He generously gave me the employee 10 % discount. I would be late on the rent again, but I didn’t care. I bought a full bondage kit, along with a cord of Japanese silk rope, all sorts of fragrant massage oils and clitoral stimulating creams, vibrators, a collar and leash, a velvet tasseled whip and a spanking paddle, feathered nipple clamps, and some sexy lingerie. While I filled up my black bag with sexual paraphernalia, Farnsworth followed me around the shop, sucking on the sides of his cheeks like he was enjoying a hard candy. He had a pleased little smile on his face during my naughty shopping spree, thinking that the money he paid me to act in his film was filtering right back into his nasty little business. I noticed Delores was working at the shop and said hello to me in a friendly manner. I could feel her eyes gazing at me as I shopped.
Elizabeth and I enjoyed sex games of bondage and domination with each other, on and off camera, inspired by the erotic dream sequences of the film. At first we continued playing the roles of Brother William and Magdalena during our love-making sessions in her apartment, using the rope and sex toys. After one such steamy interlude, Elizabeth took my hand while I was seated on the edge of the bed and kneeled in front of me.
“Edward?”
“Yes?”
“Do you like playing these games with me?”
“Absolutely. More and more each time, Elizabeth.”
“So do I, Edward… I’m a little embarrassed to ask, but…”
Normally, Elizabeth wasn’t shy about what she wanted. But this time she appeared reticent, casting her eyes downward.
“What is it?” I asked. “You can ask me anything. You know that…”
“OK, I’d like to be your submissive, Edward. In real life...”
“You would?”
“Yes, Edward, I would. I want you to be my Dom. I like the way you tie me up and dominate me in bed, it’s so arousing to me, it makes me so wet for you. I’ve never felt like this with a man before. I just wanted to formally ask for your permission.”
I became aroused again, listening to her voice. It was the sexiest, most intoxicating thing I ever heard in my life. Based on the serious look, it didn’t appear that she was just being flirtatious or joking with me. It seemed like she really meant what she said. She looked up with her blue eyes, biting her lower lip and spoke in a timid voice.
“Will you choose me as your sub, Edward?”
My heart sped up in my chest and my breath became shallow. I had always been nervous and awkward around pretty women. But this time, I felt calm and in control. I took a tuft of thick silky blonde hair in my hand and pulled her closer between my legs. Like a kitten, she shut her eyes and rubbed the sides of her cheeks against the warmth of my pulsating shaft. It felt like there was a powerful and masculine being inhabiting my psyche. I was proud of what I said in response.
“Ms. Rose, you already are my sub.”
She looked up at me with wide eyes and smiled, resting her cheek against my erection, lightly and reverently kissing the vein leading up the side to the tip of my penis. She took me into her mouth and sucked me.
Looking back, if there is a moment when a boy becomes a man, that was my moment. Having the most beautiful woman I ever met submit to me in that manner and choose me as her Dom gave me a strong burst of confidence. As if I had taken a powerful drug, I felt invincible now. I felt like I could conquer the world with Elizabeth at my side. I had never done anything kinky with other partners before and it made me feel emotionally closer to Elizabeth, exploring these fetishes with her. I hoped the sex games we played separated me from the stable of hunks that kept calling and demanding her attention. With the help of some handcuffs and tight rope, I could take her to heights of pleasure no other man had taken her. I was not only her Dom on camera, but in real life as well.
As soon as we entered her home, we had an established routine. We would go throughout her condo and close all the drapes over the windows for privacy. I would meet her in the center of the living room and she would remove her shoes. She would place her hands submissively at her sides and give me a long sultry look deep in my eyes. I would raise her hands over her head in silence, peel off her dress and then we would go to her bedroom. I took out the leather collar and the leash she kept hidden in her bedside drawer. She kneeled beside the bed, bending over, her full rounded breasts hanging enticingly above the floor, and offered her long lovely neck to be collared. I stretched the straps around her delicate throat, securely tightening the straps and attaching the leash to the O-ring in the front.
“You are my collared submissive,” I said, in my deeper Dominant’s voice.
“I am here to serve you, Sire,” Elizabeth playing along in a sweet and feminine whisper, eyes downcast.
Her tender compliance aroused me almost immediately.
“Make yourself pretty for me.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
I picked her up by the leash and led her to sit at her vanity table. I stood behind her and watched as Elizabeth put on her makeup. I know she loved this part of our game and I let her take her sweet time. While glancing at me in the reflection of the mirror, she drew black mascara under her eyes and painted her eyelids bright blue. She put a little blush on her cheeks and colored her lips a deep shade of red. I could watch her put on her makeup for hours. She would occasionally make sexy, pouty faces in the mirror and flirt with me by biting her lower lip and winking at me.
I loved watching her pretty breasts under the thick black collar. They seemed to move with a life of their own, constantly shifting and drawing my eyes with each subtle movement of her shoulders. Each breast had a personality of its own. The breast on the left was slightly more prominent and regal, while the right breast, though a trifle smaller, was perfectly shaped and even more sensual. Her
breasts were quite pert and sassy, as if they were quite aware of how cute and mesmerizing they looked as a pair, playing off of one another’s sexiness. I would obsessively stare at Elizabeth’s breasts individually and then appreciate them as a pair, conjoined by the curves of her smooth white creamy skin. I couldn’t believe these two soft and pendulous mounds of flesh were my property to enjoy. I owned this exquisite creature. She was mine. All mine.
We enjoyed our private consensual love-making sessions in her Hillcrest apartment three or four times a week while we were together, in addition to our encounters in the films. I never had so much sex as during those magical months of our affair in her boudoir. Binding her with ropes, collaring her and handcuffing her to the bed, Elizabeth willingly became my love slave. Elizabeth seemed to relish the role of the obedient submissive who must attend to the desires of her Master. I’m sure most of her previous lovers lost complete control and jumped on top of her as soon as her clothes were off. The bondage and domination games helped me to slow down and fully experience the sensuality of the moment with this extraordinary woman. She was still way out of my league, but becoming her actual Dom tipped the scales between us so we could actually achieve a kind of balance as a couple, making our mutual release at the end of the game that much more intense and pleasurable for both of us. Without the role as Elizabeth’s Dom, I would’ve been a mass of quivering nerves around her. It made me confident to play the part of the aggressor.
When Elizabeth checked her lips one last time and closed her small compact mirror with a click, it was my cue to take over. I would sit on the edge of the bed and pat my thighs. Elizabeth would stand, cross the room, sit on my lap and cast her eyes downward. Then the games would begin in earnest.
“Good evening, submissive.”