by Jess Bentley
It’s hard to walk with my shaft this thick and heavy inside my pants. Whether I come or not, I usually am able to walk properly after a ceremony. But there’s something different about this one. She is perfect, in every way. Sweet, supple. Innocent, but naturally filled with her own flames of lust.
My cock throbs. It’s almost painful.
I barely make it inside my own door before I pull my fly down and free myself from the confines of the denim fabric. My fingers wrap around the familiar heaviness, but this time I feel hotter and thicker than usual. I see her mouth in my mind, that glistening, candy pink mouth. And I imagine plunging into her as she licks the underside of my shaft, her small tongue slipping naturally and eagerly around the knots of skin there.
“Angel,” I whisper to the empty room, as the planks of the barnboard creak with the movement of my weight, back and forth, back and forth. It only takes a few strokes before I spurt. The semen comes out fast and in thick ropes. All for her, her little mouth, her innocent sex. Imagining breaching her own little knot of skin in back.
When I catch my breath, I pull up my pants and quickly clean myself up.
The power this girl has is something fierce. I have to sit down and think all this over with a clear head. If there’s any other way to save the Family, if Silas won’t agree to let her go.
But first I grab my secret stash of whiskey from the hiding place under one of the planks, and take a swig straight from the bottle. The images of Dustin’s men taking Angel for themselves is intruding on my good feelings, and drink is the only way to dull the jealousy that roars inside.
Chapter 12
Angel
“I want you to tell me absolutely everything before Mary gets here!”
Mama comes into the kitchen trying to smile, but it looks thin and strained. She doesn’t want to reveal just how tense she really is. I just smile and take the basket of vegetables from her arms. They're still covered in dirt from the garden and give off that pungent, earthy smell of pollen and crushed leaves.
“Now, Mama, you know I can't do that. The ceremony is sacred! I can't just go blabbing all the details…”
She raises her eyebrows at me, something which normally carries some weight. But as of this morning, it doesn't seem to matter quite as much. I'm a woman now. Soon I will have my own house. My own Master. I will have all the rights and privileges of every other woman in the Family, and I can see that she knows that too.
“But it's just so… out of the ordinary!” she continues, trying to sound breezy. “Why were you alone with them? What did they say?”
“We’re here!” I hear voices from the front door. I shrug at Mama and sweep away, ready to greet the other aunties.
Annie comes in with a parcel of meat wrapped in brown paper. She holds it under one arm proudly, as though she might have slaughtered it herself. We all know that's not true. Annie's not that ambitious.
“That looks at a lot!” I gasp, like I'm supposed to. She smiles broadly at the compliment.
“Well,” Annie winks knowingly, “I bet you worked up quite an appetite, Angel… wait, what's your new name?”
Her brow furrows for a moment. I don't say anything. I just smile, letting them all wonder about it. Mary pushes forward, squinting at me curiously. I feel Mama come up behind me and Agatha sniffling from the back of the group. She has allergies.
“Wait, I want to guess!” Annie announces. “Henrietta? No? Magdalene maybe?”
I smirk at her, appreciating the insult. But I don't care anymore. What do her insults matter to me?
I take the meat parcel from her hands and wander back to the kitchen, letting them follow behind me. I do that sort of thing now, just lead the way when I feel like it. It feels pretty good.
“Wait, I know! What was the name of that old hag in the test Old Testament… hold on…”
“Oh, Annie, shut up,” Mary scoffs impatiently. “Just let her tell us. Enough of your silliness.”
Agatha moves the kitchen table away from the wall so we can all sit around it and prep the meat and vegetables for the dinner. It'll be us and Father Daddy. He'll officially announce my womanhood, perhaps maybe even name my new Master.
New Master? Something about that seems wrong. If I had to say I had a Master… I would say Father Daddy.
Or Brother Owen…
Or maybe both.
The thought gives me a quick little thrill, and my womanhood does a tiny flip-flop in my belly. Yes, I'm going to make very good friends with that part of me.
Which makes me wonder… do all these women have that too? Is that the big secret they’ve been withholding from me all these years? What else do I not know?
But you can't tell by looking from the outside. Mary looks like she swallowed a wedge of lemon years ago and it is still lodged in her throat. I can’t imagine her ever kissing a man, being naked with a man, groaning as he… Oh, wow.
“Just tell us already,” she bawls.
I shrug one shoulder. “Angel.”
Agatha sniffs. “I don't get it.”
I bite the inside of my lips, trying not to smile too broadly.
“He said my name is perfect as it is,” I announce, trying to seem nonchalant about it. But inside me, a million butterflies multiply with excitement. “I suppose that's kind of a compliment to you, Mama. You did a good job naming me.”
But Mama does not seem amused or flattered by this news at all. Her cheeks pink right up. In fact I think I see two capillaries threading through there that look like they might explode.
“Outrageous!” Mary huffs.
“See?” Annie sneers. “I told you so! They're doing it all wrong!”
“You don't have a new name?” Mama repeats in a wavering voice. Her eyes go sort of glassy. What is wrong with her these days?
“I will just be Angel, same as always,” I sigh as I retrieve the salt and pepper from the cabinet. When the roast is prepared, I drop it into the oven. It's at a low temperature, and should braise slowly and come out tender and succulent. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.
“So that's that! We can talk about something else?”
“What did you do? What did you say to him?”
I dare to stare back at Mary. She is obviously furious, but I don't I need to be afraid of her anymore.
“Yeah, didn’t you go to confession yesterday? People saw you going to the confession shack. You know your first confession is supposed to be with one of the aunties. What did you say to him?”
I bite my lips together. “Confessions are private,” I say in a tight voice.
“Well whatever you said, it must've been terrible!” Annie says sagely. “It must've been so bad that Father Daddy didn't want to risk us knowing about it. Is that what it was?”
I feel my cheeks getting hot. “No… that wasn't it at all.”
Mary stops scraping the skin off carrots and points the knife at me. “Then what was it?”
I look around, confused. Why are they so angry? It's just a private exchange between me and Brother Owen and Father Daddy. It's not like I robbed a bank or anything. Are they really that mad about not knowing every little detail about every little thing that goes on in the compound?
“You know what, I think I need to start getting ready for dinner,” I lie, since dinner is actually hours away. “My dress isn’t finished, and if I don't work on it now, I'll only have the shift you gave me to wear!”
The sound of their collective gasp is actually sort of satisfying as I turn on my heel and leave the kitchen. I let the door to my room close rather loudly – not slamming it of course — so that they know I'm not to be disturbed.
Now that I've got some time to myself, I have to admit, those were some pretty good questions. Why did they want me alone? Why couldn’t the aunties be there, like they do for everyone else? To guide me and comfort me? To help me understand?
Father Daddy will be here soon, and I hope I have a chance to ask him. I know that we really connected.
It almost felt like he could read my mind. If I just ask him, he'll help me understand.
Or perhaps he'll just announce my marriage and move on. Perhaps that moment we had is all there was ever meant to be.
Instantly I feel tears spring to my eyes. How could I live knowing I would not have that again? To not feel Brother Owen’s silky hair against my fingers again? To not taste Father Daddy's salty seed?
No. That would be a tragedy. It was so perfect, so completely what I needed… It has to happen again. It has to.
But then again, they could have anyone. They don't need some inexperienced novice like me. They have been through this hundreds of times over the years. They’ve probably forgotten about me already.
I sit down at my small table with a needle and thread and my nearly-completed dress. I still have layers of lacy fringe to sew onto the neckline. It's a more grown-up style. Still very modest, but the small adornments will let people know that I'm different now.
I feel my troubles sort of melt away from me as I concentrate on the task, darting the needle through the fabric, pulling the thread taut. I love that small musical twang that it makes as it vibrates. I’m so intensely involved with the work that I almost don't hear the knock on my bedroom door when it happens.
The door knob clicks and I turn around when the door swings open. Father Daddy leans his head into the room and I almost gasp with joy.
“May I come in?”
I stand up with a start, almost losing my sewing supplies on the bare floor.
“Of course! Please come in!”
He enters the room, filling the doorway and then looming large, his presence expanding to fill the space. I notice that he pushes the door close behind him and it clicks solidly shut. I imagine the aunties are quite excited about all of this.
“Angel… I just wanted to talk to you privately for a moment. Is that all right?”
I nod urgently, unable to speak. Glancing around the room, I don't really have anywhere for him to make himself at home so I gesture toward the bed, the only real comfortable place to sit here.
He sits in the middle, planting his heels on the floor and letting his knees fall open. His eyes dart around the room, taking in the simple furnishings. It's a humble space, but tidy, at least. At the very least, I keep a tidy house.
“Angel, you're very special girl —”
“— woman,” I blurt out. Instantly I regret it. What was I thinking, correcting Father Daddy?
But his face softens into a smile. My heart swells to bursting.
“Indeed, you are,” he agrees softly. “My apologies. You are certainly a woman now.”
“Does that mean you have a Master for me?”
He takes a short breath, one that leaves his mouth partially open. His eyes search mine.
“Or…” I dare to ask, “are you sending me out to the men in the world? Like Brother Owen mentioned?”
“Is that what you want?”
I don't know what to say. Is it? Do I really want some boy from the compound… Someone I grew up with and still think of as a little boy… Do I really want someone like that running my life?
“I'm not sure,” I answer honestly. “But I want to do whatever you think is best.”
He nods seriously.
“Well, that's good to hear, Angel. In any case, I think we should take our time about it. As I said, I think you're very special.”
I smile. I can't help it. When he sees me smiling, he smiles too.
“Why are you smiling?”
I shrug. “Because I’m happy, of course. I’m happy you’re here. With me.”
He chuckles, an almost unfamiliar sound. He's very serious all the time. He has to take care of all of us, which is why we call him Father Daddy. He is ultimately responsible for every life in the Kingdom Come Family. It must weigh so heavily on him.
“I'm glad you're happy,” he sighs. “And with your permission… I would like to continue your training.”
“My training?”
He pauses for a moment, then pats the bedspread. Tentatively, I sit next to him, trying to control the thrills that rush through my body. Sitting on a bed with a man, that is the sort of thing reserved for married women. This feels so deliciously wonderful. And forbidden. But it’s okay, because Father Daddy asked me to.
“You still have a lot to learn,” he murmurs. His hand inches toward my leg and catches the hem of my dress. He slides his fingers up my calf and circles my kneecap. Goosebumps race along my skin.
“Like this,” he murmurs. “Do you know what to do when a man does this?”
I shake my head. His eyes are so intense and serious. There’s a deep connection here, some electric wire that is strung between us. I want to know more. So much more.
“When a man does this… But not any man, your man only... You open yourself to him. Is that clear?”
I swallow hard. I nod as I open my thighs as he commanded me. Immediately his hand slides towards my sex. I feel that I am wet and slippery and my body shudders as his fingers trace the leg opening of my cotton panties and stroke against my downy covering.
“That's very good, Angel,” he sighs. His mouth draws closer to my shoulder. I feel his breath across my neck and chills cover my arms. I close my eyes and open my legs further.
“Oh, that's very good. When we do this, when it reaches its climax, we have many words for this. Do you know them?”
My breath is uneven. “Climax,” I repeat numbly. His fingers nudge against me, then deeper.
“Yes… and orgasm. And many people simply call it coming. Can you say that?”
“Coming,” I repeat, feeling my body rocking back and forth, feeling the pleasure slosh through me like wine in a jug.
“Some people even ask for it. They say make me come. Can you ask me that?”
“Father Daddy,” I groan as softly as I can, “can you make me come?”
“Yes, I can,” he growls. His face buries itself against my neck as he strums vigorously against my flower. The explosion goes off like a rocket inside me, bucking my hips over and over again and filling his palm the sweet nectar that comes from deep inside me.
He lays me back on the bed, kissing my cheekbones and forehead as my breath slowly goes back to normal.
“That was wonderful. It was beautiful, Angel,” he coos.
“Thank you, Father Daddy.”
“You still have so much left to learn. Would you like to continue training?”
“Yes, please. I really would. I want you to teach me everything.”
I feel him nod. “Will you please meet me in the barn tomorrow at dusk?”
I smile. I can't believe my good fortune.
“Yes, I will.”
I grin happily, standing up from the bed and finally opening my eyes. He is smiling at me so sweetly it makes my heart ache.
“Dinner smells like it is just about done, Angel. Do you still have work to do?”
“Yes, Father Daddy, I do,” I answer obediently, shifting side to side and getting my legs under me. I feel shaky and rubbery, but I do manage to stand up straight. The force of the joy inside me alone should make me buoyant enough to walk.
“I think you're going to be my favorite, Angel,” he smiles as he moves to leave my little room. “I hope you're prepared for that.”
Chapter 13
Angel
This day is going so slowly. I even slept in an extra half an hour, laying in my bed as long as possible to make my chores seem more urgent. If they’re urgent, I assume they will go by faster.
But no.
Instead, I count every string bean that I pluck from the vine. I count every weed that I pull out of the dirt between the radishes and the lettuces. If we don't get some rain soon, this garden is going to turn completely to dust.
I turn on the soaker hose and use the remaining few inches of the rain barrel. It won't be enough. It will have to rain the next two or three days or we will have to ask Father Daddy to do something.
Father Daddy.
Father Daddy.
I can't stop thinking about it. Everything reminds me of him. The earthy scent of the dirt between my fingers. The sultry tops of the radish leaves under my thumb. I never noticed before how the whole world is organized this way. Things beget more things. All of life is about joining and reproducing and cultivating every effort for production.
I can't believe how Brother Owen and Father Daddy have altered my mind. I knew this ceremony was going to be magical, but how could I have known it was going to be like this? How could I have known there was going to be a real, secret place in my heart and my body that I had never explored before? I feel brand new. I feel reborn.
But really, I should have known. I had always been told that womanhood was a special place, apart from the girl that I was. But I suppose that day to day, I began to believe that it was simply more of the same. I became cynical. I lost faith in the idea of the magic until Father Daddy and Brother Owen showed me the way.
I have some green tomatoes that I can fry up later, and I happily twist them from their furry green stalks and put them in the basket along with the beans. It's a pretty good harvest for our tiny garden. We will eat well tonight, that's for certain.
As I trudge up the back steps, I try to focus on my next chores. Scrubbing the floor should take about an hour and a half. Getting the washing of the lines will take another hour. Dusting everything, yet again, maybe thirty to forty-five minutes. And then I will get dinner started. And then it will almost be dusk.
It will almost be time.
That makes sense. If I try to focus on my chores, I can crush the sparking flame in my chest that threatens to ignite me completely. I can't wait to see him. I can't believe he invited me! I really do think this is special between us. It must be.
It's so special, I don't even want to tell Tulip. I get the distinct feeling that Father Daddy would not approve of that. And I'd hate to find out that it was something everybody was doing, that's for certain.