The Passion of Agnes Part 4 - Sex Stories

The Passion of Agnes Part 4

... love and worship the way WE want to. Samhain will liberate you. Gaia will liberate you. You will never look back. You will never wish to. Gwendolyn is silly and irreverent but she told you the truth.” Her tone was gently remonstrating, her voice puissant and rich; her eyes glowed mournfully like last nights embers. “What is Samhain? Will the dead really come back to life?” “Yes! Don’t be frightened. They merely ask for their due, a share of our living energy, once a year, so that they can sleep peacably in their graves and not be compelled to torment the living.” “Must we give them Beautoix? As much as I loathe the man, I do not wish to murder him!” “Whatever happens to Monsieur will be Gaia’s doing, not yours. And we will not know Her will until we are in Her presence and under Her inspiration.” “So what am I to do?” “The Abbess has instructed me to convey you to the Misericord at the appropriate hour. She seems to think that that hour will be marked by some sign from the dead. At any rate we will undergo certain preliminaries there and will then depart to our sacred grove of ancient oaks, to summon the nether spirits and worship our Goddess. More I cannot tell you.” “How will the Abbess ensnare Beautoix? He is rich, powerful and crafty. He rides with a bodyguard of ruffians at all times.” Thinking of this I remembered with a flash of anger that these men had murdered and likely violated my Cordelia. “Some men’s weakness is beauty, which the Abbess has in plenty but your ...

... husband seems the type to be motivated more by…” “Cupidity. Greed. Avarice.” I stated. “Yes, Monsieur’s ‘business’ in these parts is a carefully contrived ruse. And she means to deliver unto Gaia not only Monsieur but his entire entourage. Does this please you or do you pity these men?” I felt hatred in my heart, cold and pure, but I did not wish to confess this. My eyes went to the cloth bundle. Seeing my interest she picked it up. As she unravelled, its coarse pale gray darkened with moisture. Out of this she produced a lacquered and polished piece of wood covered in an oil that smelled of lavender and pine. It struck a chord in my memory. I saw clearly now in my minds eye those arcane objects mounted between pegs to the ancient stone wall, given a numinous mystique by concentric haloes of crimson light emitted by dozens of candles, and the thick smell of incense. I had been entirely puzzled, wondering in what their utility could possibly lay. I assumed this one had been taken from that dark room below. “This is for fun, during your long nights of dreaming of ... sweet, sweet Cordelia… “ she mocked in a high-pitched imitation of a lovestruck girl. I then grasped the meaning and use of the object proffered. I thought I would faint. Did these sisters know no modesty at all? I put my hands on its slick surface and caressed it, letting my hands glide. It was smooth and of an exotic species of wood I could not identify. A deep brown with lighter veins running along it, around 8 ...