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7/29/2019 The Priest by Ela Piazzi
1/21
The priest
By Ela Piazzi
4392 words
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He packed everything.
Getting his suitcase ready was such a delicate job that he
disposed to be the only one in charge of it. Delegating would
mean too many questions. He applied his usual meticulousness
to the preparation. Every single object he placed in his bag
had its precise place, and followed a specific need.
After countless time, he could spend an entire night
alone. Nothing so common in his field. He had the right to
take it easy. For once, not experiencing the fear to be
exposed, or the terror that someone was in the wrong place at
the wrong time a person near your bedroom while youre
panting, for example - could be an enormous relief.
From the next day on a lot of appointments would submerge
him once again. So many that he would forget the meaning of
the words time alone. But that night, oh dear, that night
was special. He would be back to reality too soon. Since then,
though, he would have 12 hours for himself. Nobody asking for
a confession. No one imploring for forgiveness.
Like a holiday.
The hotel his assistant booked for him had a peculiar
name, with an exotic hint of Soviet Union. He was confident
that the Koolerov Hotel was luxurious enough for his
standards.
The brochure he had on his desk the week before was rich
in details. It was a compact old fashioned skyscraper of 22
floors, with a panoramic terrace on the top floor with glass
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ceiling, restaurant with V.I.P. section, caviar bar, swimming
pools for private parties, fitness club, Spa and a 3 screens
cinema. Everything condensed in one building.
Impressive.
The perfect place for someone with a lot of money to
waste.
Pointless.
But it was for free. So it was fine.
Even if Michael always aimed at the top he was the
youngest Bishop named in the region and was a sophisticate
person, grown up in an aristocratic family and used to wealth,
he always reckoned that wasting money was stupid.
Spending thousands dollars for a night out in a hotel
suite was futile. Instead, spending money to buy the silence
of patronizing kids was subtle smart.
Life is a matter of choices.
He took a taxi from the station to the hotel. The driver
left him in front of it. A nice guy dressed up in livery
opened two glass doors for him. He was young, but not enough.
If they were more than fifteen, they were no more noteworthy.
Another call boy, in the same livery dress, collected his
baggage.
Good evening, Mr Leary the porter said. He was a bald
man under the average height, with an egg shaped head. He
had the typical void and dull look of an oven cooked fish,
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but seemed smart enough to keep his mouth shut if greased in
the right way. And Mr Leary was good at that.
It's cold tonight, isn't it? egg shaped head tried,
filling up the registration form.
Yes Mr Leary answered, dry.
The porter didn't say anything else. He knew when it was
time to shut up. He asked Mr Leary if he could sign the
registration form, showing him where to do it with his sausagy
finger, then he slid the magnetic key on the counter and
nodded the way to the lifts. Your suitcase is in your room,
Mr Leary. he said, bowing his head on the desk.
When Mr Leary opened the door, the call boy asked him if
he needed any help to unpack, but he declined the offer,
lightening his eyes with twenty bucks tip. Then he sent the
guy away with a wave and this left with no hesitation, closing
the door with a gentle click.
Suite 209. Twentieth floor.
Two bedrooms, dining room, two bathrooms, walk in
closet, terrace.
Nice place.
Maybe too pompous. But nice.
18.00
Given the hour, he decided to order dinner. He called the
room service, choosing a light meal consisting of Cesar salad,
wholemeal bread and water yes, ice and lemon please. Fresh
fruit for dessert. On the other side, they asked him if he was
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fine with thirty minutes waiting. He'd like to say that, even
if he wasn't, he had to wait thirty minutes anyway. But he
preferred to bite his tongue. He thanked the voice and hung
up.
No point getting angry for that. Much better to take a
shower and get ready for the night.
Mr Leary took off his clothes, folded them with care, and
put everything in the closet, to keep his duties out of sight
until the next day. Then he went to the bathroom, where he
granted himself a long, hot, perfumed bathe.
He took razor and shaving foam from his bag, even if both
products where included in the toilet set the hotel provided
to every room. He preferred his own stuff. He used to choose
something delicate, because he wasnt big fan of strong
fragrances.
Mr Leary entered the shower cubicle, opened the tap,
adjusted the temperature until it was fine, then spread his
chest with spume, shaving it with care, before driving his
attention towards shoulders, armpits, groin, bottom and legs.
The operation required forty minutes, but in the end every
single trace of hair was gone. His skin was smoother than a
babys.
He used the warm water also for another purpose. He didnt
practice sodomy on himself as he did on others, but in few
special occasions it was still acceptable.
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He took his own personal pleasure instrument from an
anonymous leather box he had in his beauty case. A eight
inches, black device in soft nonallergenic latex he bought on
a website. With a good preparation it could be inserted with
one fluid movement.
It didnt take much. Even if he had not used it for long.
When he started to play for real, the bell rang. He had
forgotten about the bloody room service. He couldnt leave it
unanswered, but at the same time he couldnt interrupt his
game so close to the end. There was only one thing to do.
He closed the tap, wore a bathrobe, walked towards the
door with a hand pressed on his bottom, and let in the guy he
had met before.
It would have been embarrassing and a source of further
problems if something had slipped down, falling on the floor
with a slack pop. With slow, small steps, he reached the
closet, where he extracted twenty more bucks from a thick roll
of notes kept together by an elastic. He stretched his arm and
passed the note to the boy, with no further movements.
The young man was concentrated on the money floating in
front of his face to notice anything else.
When Mr Leary heard the door closing, he let air fill up
his lungs again, relieved. Thank God, everything went right.
To be sure, he hanged the Dont disturb disk on the handle.
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Now that he was alone for good, he had no problem walking
in a strange way or keeping a hand on his ass while he was
setting up for dinner.
He took the salad platter, plumped up the pillows and laid
down on the bed very slowly, feeling a nice pang coming from
his lower belly. After a quick check to the TV channels list,
Mr Leary chose a movie that bored him at the second scene,
opted for a funny comedy, but ended up on a porn channel. Even
that didnt meet his tastes. Men and women, busy on their own,
alone or in couple, wasn't what he preferred. He swapped for
the gay channel, but still it didnt give him that thrill he
expected. Picking from the TV guide he found out, with some
disappointment, that the kind of programmes he loved the most
wouldn't start until eleven, and he also had to pay an extra
for that.
He had no time, then. Its call would come at any minute
from eleven. And if he was a good girl it would take all
night.
He shook his head. Better not to think about it. Too much
pressure would only make it worse.
Getting dressed, instead, seemed a nice idea.
The key to pleasure stands in waiting. He learnt it during
the long years of formation in seminary. The real delight
stands in every single moment that separates a person from the
pleasure itself. The longer you wait, the bigger the
satisfaction is.
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To start with, he extracted the eight inches of non
allergic latex from his ass, and left it on the bed. His body
panted, thankful. Then he laid the two outfits he had brought
with him on the bedcovers. For that special night he had
chosen his favourites: the pussy and the mistress. He had
collected many dresses along the years. But that two were
specials. They represented everything he loved. Power, lust
and transgression.
He looked both of them with attention, evaluating the most
suitable for the night, considering the importance of the
appointment and the gravity of every single choice.
The bathrobe slipped on the floor, caressing the smooth
skin and giving a pleasantry sensation. The best thing to do
before he got dressed was to prepare everything necessary.
Clothes were there, but the wig was missing. When he pulled it
out from the side pocket, he noticed with a grimace that it
was pressed on a side, and this gave it a stupefied air, as if
it was wandering what it was doing there. He tried to reshape
its red, shoulders length, straight hair, keeping it on his
fisted hand, and the stupefied air disappeared almost
completely. Some hairspray and it would be gone.
No panic. Everything was under control.
Hed better concentrate on the make up, since it would
take long. Make up always first. Then the hair. Then the
dress.
The secret was going step by step, following a routine.
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At first he spread a veil of moisturizing lotion. Every
thing that came after was automatic. Tweeze eyebrows. Cover
shadows with a concealer. Apply foundation cream to uniform
colour and texture. Trace the eyes rim with a black pencil.
Redraw eyelids using a purple eye shadow. Fold lashes with a
curler. Use mascara to thicken and regularize. Design the lips
with a red pencil. Fade the colour towards the inside of the
mouth to make it look deeper and fleshy.
Move on.
Dress up.
If not, he would run late.
He begun with the underwear. He brought a black thong that
was nothing more than a wire. The voice had bought and mailed
it to his office. When he opened the anonymous box, he almost
fell from his chair. A soft black transparent lace on the
front, with small Swarovski and peacock feathers on the back.
It gave him a nice feeling, surrounding with accurate
precision his groin, shaping his hips. He walked back and
forward for a minute, to enjoy that unique sensation he felt
every time he wore something forbidden. As usual, a shiver ran
down his spine, from the back of his neck to his most secret
spot.
His outfits were blinking from the duvet. He opted for
Catwoman, since he hadnt used it for a long time. He wore the
black latex bodysuit, with zips at the height of nipples and
crotch, and a long black tail fixed on the back. He pulled it
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up along his legs, covered his torso, and buttoned it up
behind his neck. He wore elbow length gloves, covered his eyes
and nose with a black mask, with white moustache under the
nostrils. At last the boots. The tight highs
He had forgotten the tights.
Fuck.
F. U. C. K.
The voice would punish him for that. He felt a brief sting
at the stomach. What if he had forgotten them on purpose?
His mouth turned into a smile, ironing a couple of
invisible creases on the gloves. He could cope without tights
and a punishment, after all. It would be nice. Pleasant for
sure.
10.25.
He only had to wear boots and ears. Still half an hour and
he would receive the so expected video call.
Mr Leary took the laptop and laid it on the bed in front
of him. He sat on the edge to put his boots on, giving his
shoulders to the webcam, that went on air following the self
activating procedure, broadcasting all his movements.
He was so focused on what he was doing, that he didn't
notice that the voice was on the other side. It was checking
every single movement he was doing, caressing with firm and
gentle touch the Persian sitting on his womb. It was in a dark
room, the only visible thing the shining yellow eyes.
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Mr Leary stood up, and walked back and forward in the
room, swaying the hips because of high heels he wasn't used
to that anymore collecting all the things he could find
around to avoid the mess. He caught a glimpse of himself in
the window pane. Divine.
10.45.
Its call could come every minute. One last adjustment to
the make up, and he would be ready to take the stage.
You are very nice tonight, Mitzy the voice said in the
bedroom. He heard it from the bathroom and had an involuntary
jerk, that smudged the lipstick.
Shit! he swore in a low tone. Mr Leary had no more than
ten seconds to repair the damage and go next door. One second
too much, and the voice could disappear for months.
He cleaned up the mark with a piece of toilet paper, but
lipstick stains.
Eight seconds.
He grabbed the concealer, frenetic, spread a veil under
his lip, and sponged the excess with more toilet paper.
Five seconds.
Lip liner to redraw the contour.
Faster. He was too slow.
Two seconds.
Close the line.
One second.
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He left the bathroom, crossing the threshold of the room
with a big smile, walking slow and catlike.
You are beautiful Mitzy. I mean it. It is a shame for
that lipstick smear. But you were fast to find a solution. I
appreciate it.
The voice knew it. How the hell could it? His smile was
frozen, but he was unsettled.
You are not wearing my favourite dress tonight. But this
one fits you in a delicious way. Well done. It was evident
that it was smiling. From its tone. It was the happy tone of
someone whos smiling. Turn on yourself. I want to see how
good you look the voice ordered.
He did it.
There was a very simple, straight forward agreement
between them. The voice spoke, he obeyed. He could talk only
if he had the permission. Otherwise he would be silent the
whole time.
He liked it this way. He wasnt a chatty person. And the
voice was good at giving orders. It was authoritarian, but
fair. It did only what he deserved, nothing more nothing less.
It was a pleasure to obey.
Those zips could be an interesting thing to use tonight
the voice said. Did you bring what I asked for?
He nodded with an imperceptible movement of the head.
Take it the voice said. The first order. Michael leaned
on the mattress and took the dildo, abandoned as a death body.
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It seems you already used it the voice said. A proud and
satisfied smile hovered on his lips.
He nodded again, but didnt add a word.
Let me see how good you are with it the voice said,
hoarsen by excitement. At least, Mr Leary hoped it was
excitement. It could be a suffocate laugh. He was paranoid.
Better not to think about it.
He opened the zip groin height, bending forward enough to
give the best view of his bottom in front of the camera, and
pushed, with a certain effort, what he was commanded to push.
Very well. Now close the zip. And walk back and forward.
Get used to it the yellow eyes turned towards him. It was as
if the cat was talking to him. Maybe it was so.
He wandered across the room, while the silicon was filling
up his intestines. It was painful, in particular at the
beginning, but during the last three years he had done things
that were worse than that. And after few minutes it turned
into pure delight.
Down on your knees the voice commanded. He got down on
his knees, bending his leg inch after inch. He couldnt move
any quicker than that.
He squatted on the soft and thick carpet, lying his cheeks
on the calves. He felt his muscles relaxing a bit, even if the
content of his bowels was anchored with a good grip.
His head was fiery high, his torso rigid, hands on the
tights, palms opened.
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Put yourself on all fours, like a cat, and walk around
the room in this way.
A new order. Easy enough to perform.
If it wasn't for.
It began to hurt. But he couldnt say anything. No words
from his mouth. He had to accept it, nothing else.
You are very clever tonight, Mitzy. I can see that you
got scared enough the last time. Good girl. You know that I do
not like whims. If you are very good, maybe you can come,
later on the dark on the other side whispered.
Right. The last time.
The last time he spoke. When it wasnt required. Above
all, he asked the wrong thing. When he was commanded to stop,
he asked to go on, please, just for a second. That led to a
tremendous punishment. The voice disappeared in the same
instant he stopped talking, and didnt turn up for the next
six months. That had been so terrible for him that he swore on
his life not to do it again.
So, when he saw in his inbox an email from the voice, his
heart almost exploded. The voice wanted him again. After so
long that Michael believed he would never have heard from it
anymore. He was wrong. The voice had not disappeared. It was
just angry. Very, very angry.
This time everything needed to be perfect. He couldnt
make mistakes. In order to achieve it, he had to make a big
effort of concentration.
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So he nodded, bending his head once, his eyes staring at
the dark behind the monitor, and obeyed.
I think you have a scarf, do you not Mitzy?
Mr Leary nodded for the third time.
Yes. He had a scarf. A black, plain scarf. It was part of
the clothing. It would be blasphemous to use it for that. But
a scarf was a scarf after all. Didnt matter where it came
from.
Take it. And search for somewhere to tight it. A lap, for
example. Or a handle. Something solid, suitable to cope with
weight.
He stared around. A lap? Where the hell could he find a
lap in a place like that? That wasnt a bloody dance floor.
Think, he said to himself.
The shower had a glass cubicle. No.
Curtains were hung too high. No.
The bed head was padded. No.
There was only one door in the room, and it was a sliding
door. No handles.
Shit.
The last option that popped in his mind was the closet.
There was a bar to hang clothes.
He tried it. It seemed solid enough to cope with weight.
Satisfied, Mr Leary brought the laptop in front of the
cabinet, turning the webcam around to show is conquest,
waiting for a confirmation.
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Better not take any risks. Not when everything was going
so well.
Very good Mitzy the voice said, echoing in the small
space. It was balmy and enshrouding, a warm breeze at the
sunset. Mr Leary smiled, pleased.
Leave the laptop somewhere, so that I can see you. And
take the scarf. Tonight you will show me your ability with
knots.
It wasnt the first time, so he learnt how to do knots,
safety knots in particular, efficient but easy to release. A
good knot is the one that can be untied in no more than an
instant.
He did everything he was asked for. He dragged a chair in
front of the open doors, and put the laptop on it.
He took the scarf.
Knot it. Around the pole and then around your neck. I
want to see you come tonight the voice said. His excitement
was noticeable. Now he was sure.
He passed the scarf over the closet pole. Then he began a
complex and uneasy work of knotting. He had to pay a lot of
attention to this part. His job was made more difficult by the
content of his viscera, that seemed to grow as time passed by.
And up and down and in and down and turn and turn and down
and turn and in and right and turn. He created a kind of loop
knot, one end tight to the closet, the other around his neck.
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You are delicious tonight, Mitzy. I would like to see you
moving your tail for me the voice whispered, vicious.
Is it touching itself? He wondered. He couldnt see, but
hed like to take a peek.
He turned with a slow movement, the loop knot tightening
around his throat, but not yet leaving him breathless. He
moved his hips to the left and to the right, struggling to
keep head and neck firm.
I am very satisfied the voice said. Now I want you to
open the zip at the front, and give yourself satisfaction. Use
your hands, as if they were mine. I am touching you. I am
burying myself into your flesh. I close a hand around your
neck. I want you. You are mine. Do it, Mitzy. Do it now. For
me. And I will let you scream at the end.
Those words were the only thing he wanted hear.
To do his job, he needed a strong dose of imagination. He
was well equipped on that front. The same couldnt be said
about his dimensions, that were ridiculous. Just a bit bigger
than an average middle finger. But it was better this way. So
that when he met those nice and sweet inexperienced kids that
he liked so much, he could play with them with no problems,
avoiding too many fusses.
He knew that when they tried to escape, they were only
making up excuses. They played hard to get him out, but in the
end they were all the same. They all wanted the same thing.
Even if they complained and kept saying no, and some of them
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cried praying him to stop. But in the end all of them went
away satisfied. Many of them used to come back. For their own
will.
But now it wasnt time to think about his pupils. Now he
could satisfy that need that had been waiting for six months.
And he could do it properly.
Every single thing hed done in the past six months wasn't
even close to that.
Its hands. Those ones were its hands. They were touching
him. Caressing his body, up and down. Grazing his skin. They
were grabbing his dick from the base. They were making him
shiver. It didnt stop to talk, not even for a second.
He liked the way it was talking to him. His way to give
him orders. His way to make him feel special. He was at the
centre of attention. He loved to be at the centre of
attention. He loved to be watched. Idolized. Forced.
The loop knot was tightening in proportion to his
pleasure, but it could still be untied by pulling the end of
the scarf. He was sitting on a low shelf inside the closet.
Underneath it the safe. It was solid. Unbreakable. It could
cope with his weight with no accidents.
Everything was under control.
He felt the pleasure mounting.
He was already anticipating that moment.
The moment when.
He promised to make him scream.
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He was doing it.
He was allowed to do it.
He was doing it.
Close.
So close.
Almost.
DRIIIIIIIIIN.
What the fuck!
His mind confused by the lack of oxygen, the sharp
movement caused by the unexpected noise and the latex still
wrapping his body up made him slip on the shelf and lose his
balance.
And goodbye safety knots.
Mr Leary was too far to reach the end of the scarf. He was
lengthening his hand towards the fabric, but with no results.
His legs were no more supportive. He tried to push on his
heels, but they grasped on the floor without being of any
help.
He could feel the tongue swollen, in his mouth, occupying
all the available space. A constellation of small black dots
exploded in front of his eyes. His hands flew towards his
throat. His fingers closed around the scarf. Not a chance to
flip under the fabric and start breathing again.
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The only scream he could do in the end was chocked and
cyanotic, like his face, that took on a delicate shade of
blue.
Soon after that the black dots became a unique black spot.
Even though he saw something. But his mind didnt record it as
real.
There was a bald small man, with a egg - shaped head and a
pair of round glasses on top of his nose, wearing the
concierge uniform.
He walked towards him, but instead of giving him any kind
of help, he closed the laptop monitor.
After that, only the dark.
The guest in room 209 is not available at the moment.
Please leave a message after the tone.
BIP.
His Eminence, Monsignor Joseph here. I called to inform
you that, because of the bad weather, Your appointment has
been moved to the day after tomorrow. We are sorry about that.
Call us back on 555 897 624 as soon as possible. Have a nice
evening. And God rest Your soul.
AMEN.
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(4348 words)