by Monica Belle
THE PRICE OF SIN
MONICA BELLE
Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2011
ISBN 9781908192769
Copyright © Monica Belle 2011
The right of Monica Belle to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Other titles in the Teasing the Devil series:
9781908192745
9781908192752
Chapter One
THE MAN WHO CALLED himself the Inquisitor had watched me and Julian having sex, and no ordinary sex. His blog confirmed it the next day, with my blushes growing hotter by the moment as I read what he’d uploaded.
“Another encounter! There were three of them this time. They’d been in the folly, and must have been conducting a ritual, or perhaps preparing for one, but I didn’t get close enough to see what was going on until later. The girl, who calls herself Chloe, was arguing with a man I’d not seen before. I couldn’t hear at all clearly, but I did catch several arcane terms. Julian d’Alveda himself then appeared and demanded that the strange man show some photographs he had on his camera. He did, and while I do not know what those photographs showed they mollified the girl, making it evident to her that she had been in the wrong.
“Julian d’Alveda then spanked her. Yes, I mean it, an old-fashioned spanking, across his knee with her bottom bare while the other man watched, something possible only among a group of exceptional intimacy and very odd moral standards, but when you worship Satan I suppose that sort of thing is only to be expected. So is what happened afterwards, because when the third man had left it became obvious that Chloe was excited by her punishment, a true daughter of the Devil! She not only sucked D’Alveda’s cock, but bent over for him to give her anal sex.”
That was it, a hurried entry no doubt written immediately on his return, but he’d taken the time to post some pictures; one of the three of us together, another of me over Julian’s knee with my legs kicking and my bare red bottom on full show, and a third worse still, of Julian easing his erection between my bottom cheeks and my face set in abandoned ecstasy. I could only stare, silent as I took in the awful details of what had been two of the most intimate and intense moments of my life, a spanking in front of a stranger and having my anal virginity taken.
I am an exhibitionist, but this took showing off to a whole new level, robbing me of every scrap of dignity, every last vestige of privacy and mystery, but while I was truly appalled I could feel my arousal bubbling up inside me. It was so strong I felt weak and collapsed back onto Julian’s bed, not sure if I wanted to scream in mortification or stick my hands down my panties and bring myself to orgasm.
Julian didn’t seem to mind at all, delighted with the extra publicity the posting was sure to draw for Candle Street Hall and apparently oblivious to the violation of his own privacy, and mine. Only when I sat down did he react, joining me on the bed to fold me in his arms and kiss me gently on the forehead. At that I gave way, unable to hold back for all my outrage, responding to Julian’s kiss and letting my thighs slip apart as I lay back on the bed.
He got the message, as always, his hand sliding between my legs as he gathered me in to kiss and caress my body. I was feeling deeply ashamed of myself even as my panties were pulled aside and his fingers entered my body, but I couldn’t stop myself, allowing him to pull my dress high to bare my breasts, to kiss and touch where he wanted until my legs were wide apart in urgent need. He mounted me, pulling his cock from his fly and rubbing it in the wetness of my sex to make himself hard, then slipping up inside me.
I closed my eyes as he began to fuck me, thinking of how I’d looked, first spanked and then buggered, the one in front of another man for my deliberate humiliation, the other supposedly private, but both witnessed by the Inquisitor and posted on the net for all the world to see. At that thought my body gave a little jerk, and again as I ran the awful thought through my head, with Julian’s cock pumping faster and faster inside me as I revelled in my own shame. I was going to come, and that knowledge in itself made my feelings stronger still, to think of myself coming to orgasm over the thoughts of thousands upon thousands of people gloating over the sight of me being spanked and then buggered.
The tears were rolling from my eyes as I came, but it was bliss, long and sweet and hard, giving way not to guilt or self-recrimination but a strange, helpless feeling as Julian clung tight to my body until he had finished himself inside me. Even then we stayed together, neither speaking as I clung to him with a need more desperate than ever before, and as my muddled senses slowly came back together I realised that not only was I completely in love with him but I depended on him to hold me together.
We walked over to the gatehouse hand in hand, Julian as calm as ever as we discussed the situation and how to make the best of it, although I was more interested in the Inquisitor.
‘Do you think he’ll be back?’
‘I don’t see how he could keep away. I know I couldn’t. He’ll be cautious though, now that we’ve seen him. I shouldn’t have chased him, really, but I reacted by instinct.’
‘He knows who we are, so he must have been on a tour, but I didn’t recognise him. He has to be fairly local too, doesn’t he, to come and go like that?’
‘Maybe, but he could come from as far away as London or Birmingham, if he’s obsessive enough. Not that it matters, as long as he keeps giving us plenty of free publicity.’
It mattered to me, although I wasn’t sure why when the damage was already done, save that even though Julian and I had set the man up, and despite my reaction to his behaviour, I still wanted to confront him. Julian would have been sympathetic but wouldn’t have understood, so I kept quiet.
At the gatehouse Graham gave us an unusually cheerful ‘Good morning’ and we went upstairs, to where Vanessa had her feet up with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. I could hear the sound of Henry cleaning from another room, but nobody took any notice as Vanessa greeted us, kissing Julian and planting a firm slap across my bottom. She’d been looking at her computer screen, with the Inquisitor’s blog still up, and she was smiling as she spoke.
‘You’re a little tart, Chloe. It’s just as well that you enjoy being spanked, isn’t it, because nobody has ever deserved it as much as you do. Well done, Julian, but I hope you can cope this Sunday, because we currently have 157 people booked.’
I’d started to go red again at the way she’d been speaking to me, and my blush grew hotter still at the thought of conducting a tour that would undoubtedly include people who’d seen not only my whipped bottom after the earlier incident, but Julian dealing with me out in the reed beds. It wasn’t fair to give Julian all the credit either, when I’d been so deeply involved, effectively sacrificing my dignity for the sake of her business. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t a tart, and to attempt to explain my muddled feelings, but I knew she’d just laugh and kept quiet as Julian responded to her.
‘That’s fine, although not all of them will be able to visit the folly at the same time. What I suggest we do is to set up the folly as if in the middle of one of John Aylsham’s rituals, perhaps with Chloe on the altar, although that would mean you’d have to help with the tour?’
&
nbsp; Vanessa raised one haughty eyebrow at the thought of being expected to do some work. Julian merely shrugged.
‘Unless you’d prefer to be on the altar?’
‘Don’t be impudent. Very well, I’ll help, and I suppose Henry’s capable of shepherding people about, but you’ll need to do the talking.’
‘Of course. I’ll bring the tourists down to the folly in batches, and if they miss their turn, that’s their problem, because what really matters is what happens afterthey’ve left.’
‘Which is?’
‘The Inquisitor will be watching, probably from a safe distance, but I don’t see how he can stay away. That’s why, once the grounds are clear, we continue with the ritual, as if we were doing it for real. In fact we will be, to all intents and purposes, or at least it will look as if we are to the Inquisitor. Ideally it ought to look as if it works too, but we’d need somebody who can pretend he’s become possessed by the Devil.’
‘You would seem to be the ideal candidate.’
‘No, because I have to take John Aylsham’s role. Do you think Henry could pull it off?’
Vanessa’s answering laugh was pure scorn.
‘The worm? He’d be better as the sacrifice.’
I’d been struggling to pull up the full details of John Aylsham’s rituals from my memory, but I wasn’t sure which one Julian was referring to and broke in with a question.
‘Hang on – if I’m the sacrifice, what happens to me?’
Julian grinned.
‘You get fucked by the Devil.’
‘Meaning Henry?’
Vanessa laughed, but Julian at least had the decency to look slightly abashed. I went on quickly while I had at least some advantage.
‘I’m sorry, but that’s asking too much. I ... I don’t mind having dirty things done to me, but it has to be by you, Julian, and ... maybe Vanessa if it’s spanking and ...’
I’d grown crimson with embarrassment as I spoke, because they both knew exactly what I meant and Vanessa’s mouth was curled up into a small smile, registering both amusement and contempt. After a moment of awkward silence she spoke up.
‘Does it really matter? One more cock? I bet you’ve had plenty, haven’t you?’
I forced myself to look her in the face, but I was struggling to keep my voice even as I replied.
‘Yes, it does matter, and no, not all that many. Sorry, Julian, but ...’
He lifted a hand. ‘Fair enough, I respect your limits. How about you then, Vanessa?’
‘Allow the worm to have me? You are joking, aren’t you?’
I couldn’t help but point something out. ‘He is your husband, Vanessa.’
‘He’s a worm, and barely fit to lick my boots. You don’t understand our relationship, Chloe.’
I was fairly sure I did, or at least that I was beginning to, but I shut up as Julian went on, his voice now firm.
‘We need to get it done, convincingly, but the more unconventional it is the more the Inquisitor will be impressed and the more he’ll write. Vanessa will have to take on the role of the possessed servant and Henry can help out with menial tasks. Is that acceptable?’
He was looking at me, his eyes boring into mine and I’d nodded before I could think twice. Vanessa had no qualms at all, reaching out to run a slow hand over the curve of my bottom as she replied.
‘Oh yes, that’s acceptable. In fact that’s ideal. How would it be if I sat on the little tart’s face?’
A powerful shiver ran through my body at her words, but I couldn’t help but protest.
‘He’ll be taking photographs, which he’ll put up on the net!’
Vanessa laughed once more as she gestured at her computer screen, where the picture of Julian easing his erection between the cheeks of my bottom was still up.
‘Would they be any worse than that?’
I could only hang my head in defeat, too weak to resist the idea of having a picture of her sat on my face as I licked added to the gallery of my shame – and, in all honesty, too thrilled.
By the Sunday morning the number of people booked for the tour had risen past the 200 mark. That included two coaches chartered by a paranormal society none of us had ever heard of and the representatives of no less than seven other groups as well as the merely curious and the usual compliment of tourists. I’d been feeling slightly stunned by the whole thing as well as embarrassed at the thought of what they’d almost certainly seen, but on the day I found myself so busy I had no time for anything but work.
We opened with the usual tour, Julian and I taking a group each while Vanessa dealt with the stragglers and Graham manned the office. Henry was also there, but was simply too shy and reserved to be any real use and Vanessa had soon sent him down to the temple to make sure the preparations we’d made the evening before weren’t interfered with. I was having trouble myself, with the sheer numbers and because many of them knew a great deal more about Black Shuck and Lady Howard than I did myself. There were even questions about the low-frequency vibration effect, which I answered evasively, and about John Aylsham’s rituals, which I put off.
By the time we were ready to move on to the folly I was glad to be able to give over my responsibilities in favour of merely lying on the stone slab, and it was really quite amusing to watch Vanessa growing increasingly flustered as she struggled to make so many people do as she wanted. Julian was cooler by far, his voice loud but calm as he gave instructions but quite indifferent to those few who wandered off. Soon he had the first group down at the folly, standing around it and peering in at me where I lay on the slab. I was at the centre of a pentagram, each corner marked out with a sheep’s skull on which stood a black candle with the dark wax already running down over the pale bone. A brass chafing dish stood to one side, along with various other pieces of paraphernalia, either original or hastily put together for the occasion. The crowd seemed impressed in any event, craning close and chattering excitedly until Julian raised his hand for silence and spoke up.
‘Ladies, gentlemen, a moment of your attention, if I may. Here you see a reproduction of the first ritual used by John Aylsham in his attempts to summon the Devil. There was no reserve in his technique, and I intend to use none in my description. He would have stood as I do now, with his housemaid, Flora Martins, laid out as my assistant is now, save that Flora would have been naked, a detail we felt it best to leave out for the sake of Chloe’s modesty.’
Somebody in the audience giggled and I found myself starting to blush again but Julian carried on without comment.
‘There would have been others here too, most importantly Sir John’s coachman and accomplice, Reuben Secker, whose body was supposed to receive the spirit of the Devil, along with a compliment of girls from the village, all doubtless well bribed, and all stark naked. Again I must apologise for failing to supply these details, but one I do intend to reproduce is the exact set of occult symbols Flora Martins had inscribed on her body. This was done with an aromatic black wax, similar to that with which the candles were made, and the symbols drawn on her body as Sir John led his acolytes in a chant.’
As he spoke he had lifted the little brass bowl of wax, to dip his finger in and begin to trace out the familiar symbols on my body. The wax felt cold and slimy, so that it was an effort to stay still as he marked first my forehead and then my cheeks, at which point a worried voice sounded from among the watching crowd.
‘Don’t you think it unwise to repeat the ritual so exactly? Imagine if it worked!’
Julian smiled.
‘It won’t. We know this because it didn’t work for John Aylsham. Nor did any of the subsequent ones, or at least, so we are led to believe. Personally, I think he succeeded, and that on the night of the final ritual, Sir John Aylsham successfully summoned the Devil into the body of one of his servants, an act which cost him his life.’
A murmur ran through the crowd and I saw the edge of Julian’s mouth twitch up into a brief smile before he continued.
‘
The facts, I think, speak for themselves. Each ritual was more elaborate than the last, and in his diaries he records increasingly curious and inexplicable phenomena, most importantly the sensation of being touched, which was apparent to both himself and to Reuben Secker, who must have been a very brave man indeed, and very loyal. We know that Sir John felt he was nearing success, and although his death means that the details of the final ritual were never recorded, subsequent events suggest that something terrible happened that night. Sir John died, for one thing, while Reuben Secker never spoke again and spent what remained of his days in a charitable foundation. Flora’s hair turned white in that single night and she could never be persuaded to describe what happened, any more than could the other women who were present.’
He was making it up, but his voice was firm and even, never hesitant and absolutely serious. The audience hung on every word, even those who were merely there for a day trip fascinated by what he was saying, while some of the paranormal investigators looked terrified. As he spoke he had continued to paint the symbols onto my body, neglecting only those that usually decorated my breasts and sex, and he paused to dip his finger into the pot of wax once more before he went on.
‘You may say that we have no proof, and you would be right, but something happened that night and, to my mind, the weight of evidence is too heavy to allow for any mundane explanation. For one thing, it was shortly after Sir John’s death that Black Shuck was first seen in the area, an apparition always associated with the Devil, while the unfortunate John Aickman had allowed Sir John’s body to be reinterred in holy ground just days before his death. Then we have the tales of Black Rob Martins, Flora’s son, born nine months to the day after the final ritual. His career was colourful to say the least and included smuggling, wrecking and highway robbery. He was notoriously callous, and not surprisingly ended his career on the gallows, but in the morning his body was gone. Coincidence? Perhaps, or perhaps he was the Devil’s child.’