I don’t know how Alexandra’s goblins have been treating her recently, but she’s quite willing to have me feel her as we drive along. She laughs when I ask her about her spooks … she reminds me of one of these irritating bastards of priests you sometimes meet … . the ones who will take off their collars and shoot craps with you. Alexandra, the attitude declares, is as willing as anyone else to enjoy a bit of amusement at the expense of her religiosity.
She’s been placing herself in the persons of women she knows, she tells me, enjoying their pleasures along with them. She takes her eyes from the road to glance at me and smile. It was a very enjoyable evening at Anna’s party, she says.
How in the name of Jesus she found out about that I don’t know. I’m not taking in any of her crap, but not Ernest or Arthur or Sid could have told her about it. And if Anna herself has been talking, she’s even a worse bitch than I think her to be.
The street stretches out interminably, and I pass the time by lifting Alexandra’s skirt over her thighs and playing with her. She doesn’t mind if I tickle around her crotch … it doesn’t interfere with her driving. She hasn’t anything on under her skirt, and by the time I’ve worked my fingers up to her abricot-fendu I find her things already damp.
The street lamps become farther and farther apart, and the paving becomes worse as we approach the ramparts. At least the approach to the altar is successful, I’m thinking … . . it would be too much a disappointment if this affair was held in some busy street in the heart of the city. As we drive on and on I try to worm out of Alexandra some idea of what I may expect, but she’s a clam. All she’ll tell me is that I’ll know everything in a few hours… …
Abruptly we swing down a side street, into a sort of alley, and out of that into a lane. The car stops under the shadow of a high wall. As we get out I see not the slightest sign of life or human habitation. Marching behind Alexandra, with my hand under her dress and on her hare ass, I am led through a heavy wooden gate in the wall. We follow a bad path to a low building of stone, and as we enter I find that we are in a dimly lighted passage or hall.
“This place,” Alexandra explains to me as I follow her through a succession of ammoniac-smelling vestibules and rooms, “was once the chapel of an Ursuline Convent. Until a few years ago it had been used by a farmer as a barn … . .
She brushes my hand from her ass as we enter a somewhat larger, but no better lighted room in which a number of people are seated about and whispering. So far as I can make out, they comprise the usual assortment of religious fanatics, with the exception that the cunts are perhaps more juicy looking and the fairies more obvious. There are no introductions, of course … .
Alexandra puts me on a couch and leaves me to my own devices while she goes off somewhere. I try to enter into a conversation with a somber-eyed and very pretty cunt who’s sitting close to me, but she’s lost in meditation and gives no sign of hearing me … . too bad, because she’s a fine-looking bitch. When one of the male bitches comes up and wants to talk to me I give him the same treatment that the cunt gave me … evidently it’s acceptable, for in a moment, he goes away.
Alexandra returns after several minutes. In the dim light I can’t see the flush on her face but by touching her I find that her cheeks are burning. She’s breathing quite heavily and her eyes are bright.
“I’ve been conversing with the Canon,” she tells me. The cunt next to us shoots her a glance like a dagger.
There’s a stink about the place that has been strangling me. The incense burners are venting clouds of smudgy smoke. I question Alexandra about it.
“Myrrh, datura, leaves of henbane and dried nightshade,” she says, sniffing as though she actually enjoyed the stench.
Just then a hush comes over the room, and several kneel before their chairs.
The Canon enters, preceded by two chubby choirboys, and wearing the usual sacrificial habit with certain additions and modifications. On his head he has settled a crimson bonnet with a pair of velvet-covered horns protruding at the top. He looks about, and his eyes settle on me. He nods his head and solemnly turns away. Then, with no further pause, he kneels before the altar, mounts the steps, and begins to say mass. The choirboys quietly begin to distribute censers and deep copper dishes filled with that stinking, strangling mess of burning rubbish.
The ceremony of the sacrifice goes on … . most of the women are crouching over the smouldering dishes, inhaling the smudge that comes up from them… .
The Canon genuflects and drones Latin … one woman silently begins tearing her dress from her body … suddenly she rushes up the steps, tears two black candles from the holders, and throws herself across the altar, naked.
Whimpering, she lies there, a candle held in each outflung hand, guttering and dripping wax over her white wrists, while Canon Charenton lays his hands on her belly and passes them over her.
One of the choirboys brings in a pitch-black rooster and hands it to the Canon along with a small knife … Holding the bird high above his head, the man slits its throat, holding it for a moment until the blood drips and spatters onto the woman’s heaving teats, and then drops it onto her belly, where it scrambles senselessly in a smear of crimson. The blood gathers in the woman’s loins, then trickles down into her bush and cunt … . As the decapitated cock drops to the floor, the Canon throws himself between the woman’s spread knees and sucks the blood from her cunt… . .
A long, vile and impassioned prayer to the powers of evil is begun. And whatever you may think of its intention, or its probable chance of success, you have to admire the facility of language which the Canon displays in that prayer. I find myself inwardly applauding … it’s as fine a prayer as I’ve ever heard, although I can’t say that I’m entirely in sympathy with all the opinions the Canon expresses … … It ends, and the choir boys tinkle their bells … .
It’s the signal for the place to really become a complete looney house. The faithful begin undressing themselves and each other … . a moaning and chattering and an ecstatic wailing commence. The Canon pulls up his robe and I see that he is naked beneath it … he ties it up with a cord, and the woman on the altar reaches for his prick … Before she can touch it, the Canon has drawn the choirboys into him, and both of the cute little pricks fall on their knees and begin playing with him and each other. They kiss his balls and let him put his cock in their mouths while the woman behind drops the candles and cries something unintelligible. Suddenly I see that one of the children is not a fairy but a young girl… .
Alexandra has become as crazy as the rest of the Canon’s congregation. She’s holding her dress up and showing her bush to me and anyone else who cares to see it, and with her free hand she’s reaching inside my pants. I push her away and someone else grabs her. While he’s feeling her up she takes his dong out and plays with it.
The Canon is preparing for the Communion. He pisses into a bowl of consecrated wine, then into the mouths of the altar boys, who spit into the bowl.
He mutters the phrases, takes one of the wafers from the tray and wipes it on the cunt of the woman … . he tosses it among the howling congregation, who scramble over it … the fouled bowl of wine is dealt out in small silver cups. And some of the bitches actually drink that mess! Most of it, however, is flung in the direction of the altar after a preliminary ceremony of touching the cup to the lips or cunt.
Lifting the altar boys in his arms, Canon Charenton lays first one and then the other across the belly of the woman on the altar. Then, while they howl and squeal, they get his prick in the rectum… . Afterward the man wipes some more of the wafers over their asses and flings them out… .
One woman and a young girl approach the altar. After first kissing the Canon’s cock they throw themselves upon the woman there and hold her head between their thighs … her tongue flashes out and she sucks them… . More follow, then some of the men … The Canon begins to fuck her as the women come up to her and then move on.
A large wooden image of Satan himself is trundled out on a wheeled platform.
It is complete in detail, with a large, but thoughtfully, not too large, prick and a pair of enormous balls. Women cluster
