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It was a beautiful May. A particularly exquisite spring, bathing the valley in dazzling sunlight, its heat softened by a breeze carrying the scent of the pine and cedar forests surrounding Santa Maria Abbey. Sitting alone in the cloister, Benicio was enjoying the last light of the day and the cool evening air. Aware that he would enjoy few more moments of rest and serenity than this for a long, long time. The time allotted to his spiritual retreat would soon come to an end, and he would soon have to return to the City of the Popes, where His Holiness was calling for him.
The Supreme Pontiff had promised him the cardinal's seat, left vacant by old San Tekka, on his return to Rome. But a reasonable amount of time had to be allowed to elapse before rumors spread. Yes, of course, San Tekka was old and had been showing signs of fatigue for some time. There was nothing shocking about the Almighty calling him back to himself. But more than a custom, backbiting and jealousy were arts in Rome. And everyone knew that Pope Snokus wanted to place his favorite, the young bishop of Siena, Benicio Soledrino, on the council of cardinals. So, what could be easier than to hasten the demise of a bedridden old cardinal so that a seat could become available?
Long before old San Tekka's health declined drastically, Ben had retired to the Abbey of Santa Maria in Monte Oliveto Maggiore. He had briefly considered returning to Spain, on his family's land. But Snokus had dissuaded him: if Benicio found himself alone in his mother's company, Dona Leia would use all her powers of persuasion and maternal tenderness to make him give up his plans for grandeur.
Honestly, Ben doubted it would've made much difference. He knew his mother's grievances by heart and could've listed them for her: Rome and the Holy See were corrupt, from the church steeples to the ossuaries in the catacombs. It was all intrigue, conspiracy and infighting to grab more influence and beg for revenue from that sanctified pig Snokus. If Ben persisted on this path, he would lose his soul and his salvation more surely than in a brothel.
All that was fair. But what other option did he have? To remain cloistered within the walls of a monastery, giving charity and alms, praying and saying mass, every blessed day until death came? No, it wasn't in keeping with his personality. Dona Leia, like her saintly brother Padre Luke and her husband, Ben's father, knew this. Within the walls of a cloister, Ben would be like a caged lion. He could endure fasting and deprivation for a while. But beyond a set period, he'd become unmanageable.
So what? Disrobe? Become a simple layman again? Return permanently to Spain, take over the family land and live by ploughing and harvesting? Too small, too restricted for him. He needed the smell of gunpowder and blood, to fight in the Catholic armies to drive the Arabs out of the Hispanic peninsula. But to fight, you need weapons and an army, and without gold, you can't buy either. The income from his family's land was barely enough to maintain their estate and survive until the next harvest.
Ben smiled cynically. Poor Luke must have bitterly regretted having encouraged his nephew to turn to religion, to soothe his soul tormented by ambition. Even more so for offering to accompany him on his pilgrimage to Rome. How could the very pious and austere Padre Luke have known that his nephew's tall stature and manly hidalgo beauty would strike a chord with the Holy Father?
Ben brushed away the dust that was irritating his eye. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, turning the azure sky to a rosy hue. The sound of footsteps, pounding the stone floor in a hurry, drew him out of his meditation. In a place dedicated to prayer and meditation, no one would've dared disturb the silence and quietude of its walls without a very good reason.
"Ah!" the young Brother Mitaka exclaimed with relief as he recognized the tall figure of Ben, rising from his stone bench. “I was hoping to find you here, Brother. We could use your help."
"What's the matter, Brother?"
Mitaka seemed to turn a shade darker at Ben's tone. The latter refrained from rolling his eyes. Although assiduous Bible reading and prolonged practice of liturgical chants had helped him learn Latin better than any court poet, and after ten years in Italy he could speak the language as fluently as a native, he had never been able to get rid of his Aragonese accent. It was that hoarse tone that gave him a harsh voice and left his interlocutors with the impression that he was always angry, even when he was in a good mood. And since Brother Mitaka was naturally fearful, all it took was for Ben to raise his voice slightly for the youngster to think he was upset.
"A... a young girl... a group of individuals escorting a young girl... showed up at our gantry.
"Why does this require my presence?"
"They say they're from Siena. And claim to know you. The leader of their group says his name is Unkar Plutt..."
"You should've started with that, Brother Mitaka!"
This young novice really was the worst messenger ever. He never knew what information to give out first.
"Take me to them."
"They've been ushered into the main church. The abbot is already at the girl's bedside..."
Ben didn't listen to the rest of Brother Mitaka's explanations. For this fat merchant from Plutt to leave Siena with his people, to take refuge in an isolated place like this, something serious must have happened. Mitaka had mentioned a young girl? Ben knew of only one in the Sienese merchant's immediate circle: his niece Renata. Last he heard, she was engaged. Married, in fact.
Entering the church, Ben had only to approach the crowd that had formed in the Blessed Sacrament chapel. Immediately, an obese man, his face puffy from all kinds of excess, lifted his heavy paunch and trotted over to meet him.
"Oh, Bishop Solo!" Plutt exclaimed, grasping Ben's hand between his ring-covered fingers. "You are, I'm afraid, our last hope. The priest of our parish and all those in Siena have already hit a brick wall. Not to mention the doctors, of course. But these ones, eh! What do they know how to do, apart from send people to their graves? Our prayers and holy water ablutions have achieved nothing. Except to enrage her a little more. You are the holiest man - the closest to God, if I may say so - apart from the Holy Father - that I know. I beg you, only your science can save her..."
As the two men approached the chapel, Plutt's voice was covered by high-pitched whining coming from the altar. Lying on the pavement, a young woman in torn clothes was writhing on the floor, her limbs straining as if in violent pain. Her long, untied brown hair was unfurled around her head, forming a halo.
"Rey," Ben murmured in dismay.
"It started the day before yesterday," a thin young man explained, approaching Ben. "We were getting ready to celebrate our wedding. But the moment Renata entered the church on Signor Plutt's arm, she let out a scream and collapsed to the floor. She lay motionless for a moment, so that we thought she was unconscious or dead. Then she suddenly opened her eyes and began tearing her dress, as well as her jewels, which she threw in all directions. When we tried to stop her, she started biting and scratching. We had to tie her up to immobilize her. When she could no longer rip off her own clothes or scratch others, she started spitting out a kind of smelly foam."
"She even spat some in my face!" Plutt clarified, scandalized.
As if to back up his story, a demented scream escaped from Renata's throat. She began to shake as the men gathered around her looked on. Her clenched hands grasped the hem of her petticoat and tried to pull it up to an indecent level. Plutt and the young man Ben assumed was her fiancé hurriedly grabbed her wrists and slammed them to the floor. Plutt held on, but the fiancé's grip was not firm enough to hold her. Rey managed to free her arm and thrust her clenched fist into his face. The young man jumped back, holding his bleeding nose and letting out a painful groan. While one of Plutt's more robust valets took his place to restrain the damsel.
But this only increased her rage tenfold. She twisted with greater force, her back and legs forming a perfect arc. While a stream of insanities escaped from her mouth.
"You sons of filthy bitches! Your mothers fucked pigs to shit you out! The demons of Asmodeus are waiting for you in Hell, to fuck you in the ass!
All the monks present made a cross.
"I swear it wasn't under my roof that she learned such insanities," Plutt defended himself.
"Rey,” the fiancé begged, "it's me, your Giorgio... Jorgito. I implore you, recognize me!"
As a token of affection, the young woman spat a huge slimy loogie in his face.
"Go fuck your mother, you incestuous scum!"
Young Giorgio began to whimper miserably.
"That's enough of that!"
Bishop Solo's bass voice echoed through the church like thunder. Everyone froze. Including Rey, who momentarily stopped struggling against her torturers' grip.
"This child,” Ben said, pointing his inquisitive index finger at her, "is possessed by the devil. There's only one way to free her: I must perform an exorcism as a matter of urgency."
He threw himself on the young woman and snatched her from the hands of her uncle and his servants, carrying her under his arm like a piece of straw.
"I'll get on with it right away, and isolate her in the sacristy."
He split the group of men, towering over them all by a head, just as Moses did when he parted the Red Sea, his burden under his arm.
"Father Benicio, is this wise?" the abbot asked, trying to stop him. "An exorcism done hastily, without preparation, could have serious consequences. Wouldn't it be better to send a messenger to Rome to ask for assistance?"
"The longer we wait, the more the demon gains ground. By the time reinforcements arrive, this unfortunate woman will be beyond saving."
"But still, should anything happen to you in the operation, the Pope..."
"I learned my science from the Pope himself. If I can't help her, no one can."
With one hand, he opened the sacristy door and crossed the threshold with Rey.
"If you want to help me, stand guard outside. Above all, don't disturb us under any circumstances, until I give the order."
And he slammed the door behind him.
Locking the latch, he placed Rey on the floor and went to find a seat, which he set up in the middle of the room. Turning back to his captive, he saw her casting fearful glances around every corner, looking astonished to find herself in such a place. When she finally looked at him, their eyes met and Ben couldn't hold back his laughter any longer.
"I admit it, little vixen, you did fool me. Simulating demonic possession was daring."
Rey blinked, tilting her head to one side like a little bird wondering what trick she had to perform to get a bunch of gooseberries.
"That said, I suspect you took a lot of pleasure in it. Just looking at your fiancé's face, I can see why you went to all the trouble to cancel the ceremony. Being able to punch him in the face must be gratifying in itself."
A throaty chuckle escaped from between Rey's lips.
"But you've made all this effort for nothing," Ben said fatalistically. “One way or another, we'll have to leave this room at some point. If you're not cured, Unkar Plutt will have you locked up in a convent, or some other place where you'll end up a recluse, like being buried alive."
Rey growled.
"If you come out of this cured," Ben continued, "you'll be led back to the altar and married to that... Jorgito?"
"Your mouth is full of lies," the young woman scolded in a hoarse voice.
Ben sighed, sitting down wearily on the stool.
"I don't make the rules, Rey. And I've never lied to you, you know that. Our... little affair was doomed to failure.
"No! There's another way! But you won't say it..."
"Because it's too risky!"
"Why's that? Because the Pope doesn't like to share his toys? He wants to keep his favorite pet all to himself?"
"Rome is a nest of scorpions, Rey. Their venom would consume you faster than a candle flame."
"I'm not a crystal flower to be kept under glass."
"Yes, you proved that earlier. But I'm still convinced that taking you with me to Rome is a bad idea. You wouldn't have any family or support there. Becoming a cardinal's whore is all that awaits you if you come with me."
As he spoke, Rey approached him with the gait of a female cat in heat. When she reached his feet, she put her hands on his knees and whispered.
"And what if I'd rather be the whore of a cardinal - and - who knows? - maybe one day a Pope's - rather than the dutiful, submissive wife of a spoiled, bratty boy, that's my choice after all..."
"Not if I can help it," Ben replied sternly.
Rey scrambled to her feet. After giving her interlocutor a defiant look, she grabbed the flaps of her dress and tore them wildly, ending up stark naked and her scream echoed through the sacristy.
"You little slut! Do you suck the Pope's cock before he fucks you in the ass?"
Ben got up to grab her, but she got away from him and ran around the room, throwing everything she could get her hands on onto the floor. This caused a loud crash that the others heard from the nave. The abbot rushed to knock on the door and try to get in.
"Father Solo, are you alright? Shall we come and help you?"
Ben wedged himself against the door to block the opening, as he struggled to subdue a raging Rey. His big hands hurriedly felt her small breasts, her rounded buttocks, her flat stomach, her firm thighs. His clammy palms slid over her sweaty skin. Lord, she was harder to hold than an eel.
"He makes you get down on your knees to lick his balls, then he smacks your ass with his crosier until it's burning like hell!"
He put his hand over her mouth to prevent her from continuing to say filthy words, and to be able to answer the abbot:
"Yes, I've got it under control. Please don't come in! You'll ruin the session."
Carrying Rey by the arm, he dragged her to the stool, where he sat down, cradling her flat on his lap. Holding her wrists tightly in one hand, he spanked her right buttock with the other. She froze instantly, gasping for breath.
Ben was panting like an ox now. This tussle had brought his anger and frustration to a fever pitch. Since Rey wouldn't be reasonable, he needed to bring her to her senses by more drastic means.
His hand came down again, this time on her left buttock. Rey gasped and groaned. Her buns, usually as white as fine bread, turned as red as peonies.
"So...," Ben growled, "you've been a naughty girl. You know how the Lord punishes naughty girls?..."
He slammed the flat of his hand down again on the reddest area, which was already very hot. A pleasant tingling ran up his arm. On his thighs, he could feel Rey's body tense up, her belly contract under the effects of tension, apprehension and excitement.
He gently brought his hand closer, feeling the slight trembling of her skin, waiting for the next spanking. Then he tenderly caressed the delicious, divine curve of her ass. A shiver ran through Rey from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.
"Father...," she whimpered.
"Beg forgiveness," Ben ordered.
"Damn you!"
Another slap, much stronger than the first three, brought a cry of ecstasy from her. Followed by a fifth, a sixth and a seventh.
"So much for the seven deadly sins," Ben said.
His voice had dropped another octave. More than ever, he had that Aragonese accent, which made Rey shudder every time she heard him; which inspired un-Christian thoughts when he recited grace, when he came to dine at her uncle's house; or recited mass, when he was passing through Siena.
"Now comes repentance."
Without releasing his hold on her, he bent down and picked up one of the objects Rey had dropped. She didn't see what it was until she felt small wooden beads rubbing between her buttocks. A rosary...?
"Say the opening prayer," Ben ordered.
She kept her lips sealed. Then she felt the bishop's fingers reach down to her pussy, which at that moment was wet with dew and ready to open. He caressed her delicately, until his fingers were soaked through and Rey's breathing was nothing but a chorus of moans.
"Say. The. Opening. Prayer."
The authoritative tone of his voice was clear. Rey swallowed, then murmured:
"Lord, open our... hearts... to your Word. That we may find light in our sadness, certainty in our doubts, and strength to live this hour in faith and hope. We pray through Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord."
"Amen."
He then pressed one of the wooden beads against her small, narrow ring and pushed it into her bottom. Rey's heartbeat quickened.
"What happened next?"
Rey breathed in.
"O Jesus, look at the tears of She who loved You most on Earth.... And loves You most ardently in Heaven..."
She had to pause to catch her breath, as she felt a new bead sink into her ass.
"Keep going."
"O Jesus, answer our prayers for the tears of blood of your..."
She had to recite her prayer in this way until all the beads of the rosary were inside her. At the end of the last recitation, she could feel Ben's erection pressing against her belly. He'd been releasing her wrists for a while, allowing her to move freely. Yet she didn't dare - wouldn't - leave the mattress of his thighs, solid and wide as church pillars. The rough fabric of his monk's habit kept her warm like a blanket. Gently, he took her by the shoulders and invited her to turn to face him.
There was not the slightest trace of anger or sternness on his face. She cupped it in her hands and kissed it adoringly, starting at the bridge of his nose, then his cheekbones, then every mole - of which there were many - and finally his mouth, soft, tender and fleshy as a bunch of grapes. His large hands caressed her naked body, making her sigh with pleasure.
How could she accept being touched by Gorgio Amleto's skinny, cold fingers, after being caressed by hands like his? Even the flames of Hell would be more acceptable.
His fingers slid between her thighs, returning to torment her wet flower petals and tiny bud. Each caress provoked contractions, reminding her of the rosary beads in her ass. Only the cross still hung between her buttocks, like an unholy door knocker. As he gathered the dew on his fingers with one hand, the other caught the little cross and gently tugged at it, drawing out one by one the beads imprisoned in her little receptacle. At the last one, Rey stifled a cry of pleasure in the priest's mouth. He then brought his hand - the one that had caressed her pussy- to his mouth and licked the juices from his fingers.
Against her thigh, Rey could still feel Ben's cock, which was still not at rest.
"After all this, it's time to put the Devil back in Hell. Don't you think?"
Without waiting for an answer, Rey grabbed the monk's robes and pulled them up to reveal his devil upright. She immediately straddled him, the entrance to her Hell made so wet that the little demon slipped through without protest or encountering the slightest obstacle.
"You'll be the death of me," Ben sighed as she held him between her thighs.
"Do you wish you could un-know me?"
"Oh... I can't even imagine living without you."
"Does that mean you're taking me to Rome?"
"Since you leave me no other choice..."
The ride wasn't very long, just a few thrusts and he came inside her.
In the morning, the sacristy door opened on Father Benicio, completely exhausted by the fight he had waged against the demon all night. Unkar Plutt and young Giorgio Amleto rushed out to meet him. Peering through the doorway, they saw Renata curled up in a corner of the room, wrapped in an embroidered altar cloth. Clearly, demonic possession had drained her of all her strength.
"I was able to cast out the demon this time," Benicio announced to the guardian and the unfortunate fiancé. "But Satan covets Renata's pure, innocent soul. I must take her to Rome as soon as possible. There, our best exorcists and theological scholars will be able to take care of her and free her from his clutches. We're leaving right away."
And so, after a brief farewell, Benicio and Renata left the Abbey of Santa Maria together.