Chapter 4
An early morning haze hung in the air that smelled of cooking
food and the acrid smoke of cooking fires. A parrot squawked
from its perch in the tree. A green tree sloth moved in slow
motion as it followed the progress of the two pedestrians as they
walked thought the twin doors of the church. The church fronted
the square, dating back to the first Jesuits in the area. It was
a formidable structure, its thick mud brick walls laid out along
traditional lines of a naive and transect representing the holy
cross and built lying east to west. Better to catch the early
light of morning through the church's stained glass. The glass
was now covered with dust and many panes were cracked or missing.
Rachel walked quietly behind the Padre as they crossed the town
square and made their way toward the communal laundry. The
square was empty now. It would be busy soon enough as it was
every day in the morning and evenings, the coolest parts of the
day. Rachel glanced back at the church and thought of last
night, and a wave of guilty hunger washed over her as she thought
of how she had explored, tormented and pleased herself in the
darkness of her room remembering the hungry stares of the two
oriental men.
When the fat old Padre had told her she would be helping in the
communal laundry, her mind filled with indignation, but her
stomach pulled tight as she felt her vagina throb in a mixture of
excitement and dread at the prospect of meeting the two men whose
mere gaze had driven her to do things to herself that she knew
were sinful and disgusting. How many times had she touched
herself? Four, no five times? Her vagina felt swollen, its
fulness pressed tightly against the crotch seam of her shorts.
The very motion of walking was a confusing mixture or pain and
pleasure. The friction and her thoughts brought a slow ooze of
wetness along the lips of her vagina.
She walked as the condemned walks to the gibbet. Within her ripe
body she felt the near certainty that something within her was on
the verge of dying. The slow death of the fetters of pious
hypocrisy had begun by her own hand last night. She saw the
first glimpse of the pleasures that might await if she was freed
of the restraints of archaic moral superstitions. A part of her
secretly welcomed it. She knew the two filthy oriental men would
be the executioners.
The heat of the square seemed to lift a bit as they neared the
river and the laundry. The fat Padre ducked as he stepped under
the thatched roof of the porch that served as the counter area.
He peered into the gloom of the back of the hut that projected
over the river bank supported by pilings.
"Hatori, are you here?, his voice boomed out? "Hei", came the
reply from somewhere back in the gloom.
Rachel heard the scrape of wood on wood as a shoji like door slid
back revealing what looked like a storeroom off the the left. An
immense dark shape trundled out of the shadows ahead of a frail
and wizen looking man. A black mastiff-dane mix shoved his nose
up at the Padre in recognition as the old owner announced his
arrival with a wracking cough hawking up a robust wad of phlegm
which he spit into a dirty cloth hanging from a rope tied to his
waist. Rachel shuddered not knowing if it was from the
disgusting display, or the penetrating stare of the man as he
addressed the Padre.
"Konichi wa, Padre san", he said in a low screech, a hint of
spittle glistening on his unshaven chin. "This must be the the
new helper you promised". Speaking of her as if she was a new
utensil.
"This is Rachel Falwell, she is here to assist in the lord's work
with the villagers", the padre said.
Rachel a full head taller than the old man. He wore loose
fitting peasants garb, stained and dirty with an occasional rent
and tear. His longish hair was pulled back and confined in a
greasy knot at the back of his head. A few whiskers grew from
his chin and upper lip. Two dark penetrating eyes stared out of
an otherwise featureless oriental face. His lips cracked into a
nearly toothless grin as Rachel hesitantly presented her pale
hand in greeting. The old man's penetrating gaze had never
lifted to Rachel's face but roamed her body as he stepped forward
and presented a hand that more resembled a scarred and arthritic
claw. She knew that she should feel revulsion at the touch of
the man's scabby hand and his violating stare. Her stomach was
turning, but it was a butterfly mixture of revulsion and nasty
anticipation.
She felt naked in front of him, felt as if her were peeling the
clothes from her one piece at a time, until she envisioned
herself naked in front of him. Not just naked, but soul naked,
helpless. Her body and mind laid bare.
She pulled her hand back but still he held it, his stare never
leaving her breasts. Could he sense the firestorm of emotions
consuming her mind she wondered? Her eyes darted to the Padre
for assistance, but he stood smiling seeming to enjoy her
distress. Hatori ran his thumb in a mockery of a caress across
the back of the girls hand. Much to the poor girls distress he
brought his phlegm flecked lips to the girls hand in a parody of
a kiss. This caused Rachel's oversized nipples to blossom in an
embarrassing display, as blood rushed to fill the rigid probes as
her aureoles contracted in sympathy with her leaking vagina.
Rachel wanted to die as her nipples expanded in full view of the
old man. His smile seemed to expand, his eyes rose to her face
as if to acknowledgment her lack of physical control.
Poor beautiful Rachel's mind was a confused welter of emotions,
the disgust she felt toward the old man was mirrored in the
contempt she had for how her own body betrayed itself at his
touch. This only seemed to cast fuel on the fire of her
unexplained lust. Her rational mind fought to rise above the
swirling flood, drowning in wave after wave of disgusting,
forbidden and sinful feelings. All the while her flesh reveled
in it, her over ripe body seemed to revel in the knowledge that a
lifetime of teachings were being violated and broken, but only in
her mind. She felt wave after wave of nasty pleasure course
through her hungry body as her swollen clit protruded between her
leaking labia like a fat tongue. Her oversized breasts swelling
with the contained heat pushing her distended nipples tighter
into the thin fabric revealing themselves to the old man even
more.
"Rachel is eager to get started doing whatever it is she can help
with", the voice of the Padre intoned.
Rachel blushed as she pulled her hand free and quickly stepped
back crossing her arms self- consciously across her chest. Her
clit still tingling maddeningly between her legs.
"Bueno, she can help Maria and Tahio in the washroom." Hattori
grunted, appearing somewhat disappointed. "She can begin now,
the work will last most of the day."
"Rachel", the old Padre said turning to her. "I will leave you
here with Hattori, he will introduce you to the others." "I will
be gone to another village today, but will return tonight."
With that he turned with an amused smile and started back to the
church.
Rachel stood transfixed, feeling lost and vunerable. To her
surprise the old man looked at the broad back of the padre as he
walked across the square, snorted and turned. He stopped and
cast a lingering glance in Rachel's direction.
"You come with me", he said with a grin, revealing the stained
remains of his teeth, the brown rotten stumps of several were the
hallmark of his smile. With that he walked back into the shadows
of the washhouse.
