The Abbot was jubilant. Dominique had been brilliant, he thought. While he had been unwilling to divulge too much of his plan for the evening, she had played along perfectly. Dominique would work out just as he had envisioned. He would play the High Priest to her High Priestess and secure his place as the leader of the brotherhood. She had been mesmerizing—just as he had expected.
Dominique was truly stunning. Her body, creamy-white was lithe and fluid. She moved with the grace of royalty, exhibiting a confidence, the origin of which the Abbot was unsure. Despite the masks, the Abbot could tell by their eyes each and every one of them had been riveted. Oscar, the Bailiff, was the only one who continued to look a little sour. His hatred of women was evident, as he had argued that she had not a place anywhere near their organization.
But the others could look and admire all they wished, in fact, the Abbot was counting on it. Their hypnosis would work to make them even more pliable. She belonged to him alone, though. He had spent months and months gaining her trust and tonight, he would own her.
The Abbot made his way silently into the convent. He did not wish to risk disturbing Sister Marguerite. He had worked hard for this moment, hours spent talking with Dominique, gaining her trust and finding out all he could about his prey. He was so high from his tactical success with the brotherhood that he could think of no more appropriate way to end this evening.
Her tiny cell was at the end of the long corridor. He quietly slid the wooden door open careful to avoid the inevitable creaks that echoed in this old convent. Startled in her bed, Dominique stiffened but was cautious not to utter the sound that bubbled to her lips—the punishment for breaking silence was harsh. Her dark eyes flew open wide as the Abbot threw her night clothes up to her chin and unceremoniously climbed on to her bed. He was throbbing and hard, not only from the exhilaration of the evening, but the sight of her smooth white skin glowing in the moonlight.
“You are my Priestess, you are mine.” He whispered hoarsely in her ear, while moving his sweaty hands all over her body. Dominique’s mind was wildly trying to process what was happening but to no avail. What had she done to encourage such actions?
Head turned away from him and eyes tightly closed, she tried to push him away. Two streams of hot tears poured out of her eyes as she whispered in prayer, “Dear Lord, I know from whence my strength comes, it comes from thee. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want….”
Laughing sardonically and breathing heavily on her face, he whispered back, “God will not help you now, my sweet Dominique, I am in control and you are all mine.” His panting increased as he exploded inside her.