1 comments/ 8363 views/ 2 favorites The Monk Ambrosio By: livinglines This is (kind of) a fanfiction involving the characters in Matthew Lewis' novel "The Monk". Ambrosio is a monk who is seduced by Matilda into carnal pleasure and other crimes. --------------------------------------- Out of the darkness tolled the bell thrice. Ambrosio started from his sleep and opened his eyes at the stone wall before him. Behind him, Matilda slept lightly and was roused only by Ambrosio's quitting of the bed. He rubbed his forehead, pulling on his trousers quickly. Matilda's round, voluptuous form sat up on the mattress. She wiped the sleep from her eyes. "Where are you going, Ambrosio?" Though modesty wasn't needed between them, she pulled the linens around her chilling breasts. "The bell has just tolled three." He took care not to sound so, but Matilda knew he was disgusted with her. "Cannot you stay longer?" He looked upon her naked body, stretched out in wanton invitation. Her full coral lips begged for his kiss. The moonlight crept over the windowsill, illuminating the tiny cell, gracing her cascading blond curls with a golden halo. Her creamy skin resembled polished white marble and she posed in the perfect attitude so that his mind might paint the moment as a memory. He furled his brows, dead-set on refusing her advances. "Will you not come to bed, my perfect love?" She narrowed her green eyes, the sparkle within them entirely lascivious. She patted the bed beside her. "I haven't the time," he argued. "I must return to my own cell. Matins will begin soon." "You know they will not begin for at least an hour or two," she said, finding instant error in his design to leave her. She understood in the depths of her heart, why he would not rejoin her. "Matilda..." he had turned away from her, trying to summon the words to tell her he no longer wanted to sleep with her... that he now wanted someone else. However, no sooner had he begun to express his feelings than was he put to silence by two creamy arms wrapping around his trunk from behind. His chest was still bare and Matilda took full advantage of his nakedness. The expanse of his tight muscles, carpeted with thick black hair, rose and fell beneath the expert motion of her fingertips. "My love, Ambrosio," she addressed him. Her voice was deep and rich like melted chocolate. It dripped in his ears as she commenced seducing him. "My body is afire," she whispered. Her fingernails grazed his nipples and trailed lightly to the waist of his pantaloons. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and it was as an endorsement of a spell. "I've ne'er desired you more than I do now." She pressed her fingers under the band of his trousers. He felt the cloth grow tight around his groin. "How you possess me," she whispered in his ear. "The embers in my soul are igniting, my Ambrosio." He felt her eyelashes flutter on his shoulder-blade as she dipped her small nose against his spine. She gripped his manhood tightly in her small hands. "My Ambrosio," she cooed as she stroked him into full rigidity. The deliciousness of her actions kept him from moving. In hushed whispers, she promised excellent release, turning him around to face her. "Come with me Ambrosio. Enjoy my body. Let me possess you as you possess me." She looked into his eyes, the green glinting with fire. And though he hated her, though he wanted nothing more than to apply his monk's robe and quit her chamber, he found himself insensible of even his own desires -- and unable to comply with the logic of his mind. He dove on her as a bird might scoop up a field-mouse, pressing his lips to her lush ones. As they partook of the sacrament of their sin, she pushed away the restraining cloth of his abbot's costume to the floor. In the moonlight, he ravaged her mouth, turning his tongue against hers. Both sighed with lust as the bed cushioned them. He lifted his face away from hers, looking into her impassioned face, her cheeks a deep scarlet, her lips swollen, her green eyes soft and reflective of the deed taking place. He saw himself in her eyes, a confused man of thirty, hard-bodied, his eyes glowing with lewd inspiration. Just two weeks before, Matilda had been Rosario, his youthful charge, a friend, and no more than a young boy. Had Matilda only striven to hide her sex from him... had only she not begged so earnestly to remain by his side... had only she not sucked the poison from his snake-bite so that he might live. If only he hadn't been betrayed by his hot-blooded, earthly desires... his honor might still be intact. He might not now be fucking her. Nevertheless, he was... Matilda spread her legs beneath him, angling her hips up to accommodate his large frame. His impatient cock buried itself deep inside her sheath. He was lost in the fume of their mingled breath, consumed by the fire that coaxed him to plunge deeper and deeper still into her, until he was driving himself into her very womb. The wet music of his transgression against God echoed in the cell. "Yes, my lover... my Ambrosio, yes, my delight!" she cried out to him. "Never cease, my exquisite love!" The empty poetry spilled from her lips as he thrusted into her helpless body. Her muscles clapped around his hardness, juices evidencing her arousal, wetting the linens beneath their clashing bodies. He ground his teeth at the divinity of her channel, the manner in which her body conveyed her pleasure to him, the muscles vibrating alongside the praise of his lovemaking. Her passion came to violent peak, the walls of the bower seeming to shake at the fruition of his efforts. Sweat pooled on his brow, some of it had dripped onto the white globes of Matilda's chest. He collected himself, taking no joy in bringing her to the height of pleasure. His thoughts once more turned on his disgust of her. Sensing the revival of his distaste, she pushed him onto his back, the action nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. He took a deep breath, feeling her hot kisses fanning over his stomach. Not too soon after, she swallowed his manhood, her lips sliding to the hilt with no trouble. The softness of her fingers pressed to the crisp curls at the tender sack beneath her oral conquest, pressing the orbs until bolts of electricity shot throughout Ambrosio's body. For these moments, he couldn't remember his dislike of his seductress. He only knew the charms of her unholy mouth, the exquisite wetness of her tongue, the unrelenting and fervent clamping of her throat around his manhood. He swore aloud, the bountiful sack in Matilda's fingers tightening, drawing closer to his body. "Spill your seed into my mouth, my Ambrosio," she begged quietly. She stroked him, whispering delicate indecencies on his manhood, looking into his eyes, making licentious request after another... renaming herself a whore, a wanton, a slut for his pleasure. "Let me taste thy hot sin on my tongue," she entreated. A roar ripped from his lungs, the thick object of her desire evacuating its hot organ and splattering her breasts and face, splashing into her hot mouth. She at length cleaned from his cock and her face that which she could. The bell tolled four and Ambrosio detected movement in the courtyard outside. In and out of sleep, he felt Matilda's familiar body sidle up to his, her slightly sticky arms and hands creeping over him in a gentle embrace. Her dewy face laid on his shoulder as his eyes opened at the ceiling. How he hated her. If not for the needs of his body, he might not have come to see her at all. Fancifully, he recounted the last time he had seen the true object of his desire, the inspiration for his visit to Matilda. If only she could be Antonia. --------------------------------------- To be continued... The Monk Ambrosio Ch. 02 This is the second chapter of my 'The Monk Ambrosio' series. This chapter chiefly features Matilda, Ambrosio's lover from Chapter One. In it, Matilda meets with her Master. Let's see what happens shall we? ---------------------------------- "Now I truly must go," said Ambrosio, rising from the couch. Matilda sighed deeply, her body flushed with the heat of their recent lovemaking. Much to her disappointment, she had only a few minutes to hold Ambrosio before he rose from the bed again. "Shall I come to you to-night?" she asked, sitting at the edge of the bed. "I have not the time. I have much to do," he said plainly. "Ah. Then shall I see you tomorrow?" Matilda asked, frowning at the floor. Her heart beat heavy with grief. She pursed her lips. Ambrosio sensed her dismay, turned and smiled smally. He hated her, for the way she had seduced him into betraying his vows of celibacy. He hated her because she was so beautiful... because by revealing herself she had been the cause of his losing Rosario. 'But' he thought to himself, 'Matilda was Rosario.' And it was his resurrected fatherly affection for Rosario that prompted his bosom to swell with guilt at what he would soon tell her. The truth being: that it was lust and not love which he had felt for the young girl. What he had felt was only a physical attraction. He now no longer wanted her in this way and knew that what had just taken place between them might be the last incident of lovemaking. "I am sorry." He was apologizing, though, as of yet, he had no reason to do so. He couldn't summon the courage to tell her but somehow he thought she knew. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her to his chest. Her chilly body warmed at this display of affection, knowing and feeling that the meaning behind it was more filial than romantic. Her soft fingers clutched at his shoulder, as the hand of a scared infant might clutch to its parent. "Do not apologize, dear Ambrosio. I shall see you on the morrow," she said smiling at him. A mischievous gleam was in her eyes that unsettled him as he left her chamber. Matilda fell back on her cushion, looking in the direction of heaven, knowing that no amount of prayer could save her soul or give her the heart of Ambrosio. Something dark stirred in her heart and she felt the unmistakable drawing of her thoughts to the sepulcher in the St. Clare gardens. She frowned at the sudden inclination possessing her to go in that direction. She rose from bed, hearing a small voice behind her. She started, turning to see nothing. "Make yourself visible!" she hissed, dismissing her sweetness. "Of course, my mistress," answered the voice. A thick silver smoke puffed into the chamber then drew away like a veil from a tall masculine figure. The male figure had a wide set of sable wings which, unfolded, might fill the entire chamber. His clothes were fine and a circlet of gleaming gold sat on his forehead, symbols of his Master's ownership etched into it. A tether was attached to a golden cuff on his wrist. At the tether began a golden chain, molten-red with hellfire, running to the floor where the arch-demon's minions scratched and hissed at each other. The vermin sneered at her, eyeing her naked body with dastardly chokes, which Matilda had always supposed to be laughter. She despised the sound. "Have I, or have I not told you before, Asmodeus, that you are never to veil yourself before me?" "Were you afraid, my mistress?" His black eyes sporting small blue flames. "No, indeed, I was not." She began pulling on her clothes. The arch-demon chuckled, a rumble possessing the walls as he did so. "He wishes to speak to you," Asmodeus said in his deep, unearthly voice, tugging the chain beside him violently as he made his way to Matilda's side. "I know," Matilda said plainly. "I could feel him calling me." "The Master grows impatient for his prize, mistress." "I have told your Master that when Ambrosio's love is mine, I will gain him Ambrosio's soul." "My dear Matilda," the lust-demon's voice filled her ears, warming her body with the debauchery it promised, "why not give up your design for this monk?" Matilda's eyes floated closed, her energy growing wild in her body, coursing to where Asmodeus' fingers drew soft patterns on her neck. He leaned in close to her, his black tresses tickling her shoulder. He drew his fingertips across her throat. "I know the desires of your body, my mistress. I can satisfy you... I can drive you to madness." He was bewitching, handsome, and dangerous... as lovely as any angel. His smoky breath on her cheek made her quiver. She might have dropped her clothing away in the shadow of this patron of lust, if she hadn't grown accustomed to his advances. The smoke curled from his fingertips into her nostrils, a perfume for seduction. Without warning, Matilda shattered his spell with laughter. "My ridiculous specter! I am very well aware that demons hold nothing and no one dear but themselves and their Master." Completely taken aback, Asmodeus stepped away from her. The tethered minions at his feet 'laughed' again. The arch-demon tugged the chain, sending them squealing into a corner. "Demons may not hold dear, things or creatures with souls, but they do possess," Asmodeus said, smoke rising from the ground on which he walked. "And would you possess me, you foul thing?" she taunted. "As I recall it, your Master has put you under my charge. And should I ever detect your advances again, I will punish you." "Any punishment of human devising may inflict yet more pleasure than pain." He said with a wide, hot smile. "That is yet to be seen. Until then, I desire that you pursue Ambrosio again today." "Again?" Asmodeus scoffed. "That insufferable monk? He does nothing interesting at all." Despite his upset, he perked up suddenly. "You know, yesterday he met with a girl in the chapel. She was very beautiful." "You lie," Matilda hissed. "I am not lying. I swear it in my Master's name." Asmodeus inclined his head, his hand over his chest, where a heart might beat if he were human. "What lady was this?" Matilda managed to ask in her shock. "I believe she answers to the name Antonia, my mistress." He smiled wide. "Antonia," Matilda repeated, lost in thought for a moment. She turned her eyes to the demon, the green churning like crashing waves in an ocean. "I knew his mind was elsewhere. He finds my company less than pleasurable. There can be no other reason than his desire for this... Antonia." She choked on the name, thinking of how Ambrosio might whisper her name in the throes of desire. She felt tears come to her eyes. Asmodeus grinned in his triumph. "I can sense my Master's displeasure at your delayed appearance in the sepulcher." "Your Master! Curse your Master!" Matilda's anger flared. A bowl of fruit was made victim of her rage, hurled across the room, crashing against the wall and clattering to the floor along with its contents. "Let your Master come to me, if he wishes to see me!" The chamber rumbled and what little sunlight coming through the window seemed to falter into shadow. Asmodeus stumbled while his minions cowered and were silent. Matilda's moist eyes were wide at the reaction of the Evil One. She frowned at the floor and pulled on the last of her clothes. "I will go to the sepulcher now, without delay. Go forth and watch Ambrosio as I have instructed, relate to me every single detail of his wanderings today. Do not fail me, or your Master will know of your stupidity," Matilda said, her angry gaze settling into Asmodeus' burning eyes. "Your will be done, my Mistress," Asmodeus said. Quicker than during his entrance, the silver smoke engulfed the handsome demon and his minions, taking them away from the room. Matilda grabbed up her basket, ruing the moment she'd allowed her temper to flare... knowing that the Devil himself... and his punishment awaited her in the catacombs of St. Clair. The stone door of the sepulcher gave way at the turn of her key and she descended the staircase through the winding passageways of the tomb. Holding her light above her head, she followed her old path to a statue of St. Francis and urged the hollow figure aside, revealing a hidden path. She set her light at the mouth of the hole and stepped in, pulling the figure back into place behind her. Brushing the dust from her cloak, she regained her light and carefully retraced the narrow corridor to a small ante-chamber. In the center was a heavy gravestone into which several prominent characters had been etched. All around the center-stone were various occult devices that she had placed there for previous rituals. She set her basket down and retrieved a red, satin gown, a golden-chain that she used for a belt, a jeweled-goblet stained red inside by a previous ritual, a jeweled dagger wrapped in a velvet shawl, and at last a heavy black cloak. Dressing herself in the ritual robes, tucking the dagger into the belt on her right hip, hanging the chalice by the slack of the chain on her left hip, she was prepared for what was to come. Matilda pulled from a corner of the chamber, a thick but fragile book. Its pages were tattered, its cover was made of very soft hide and inscribed with various foreign characters, most of which matched the implanted gravestone in the center of the chamber. To the stone, she paid fresh attention, opening the book to a marked place. She set the book at the center of the stone. She withdrew the chalice and set it before the slab then began chanting an incantation. Sparks flew from the book, growing in number and heat until the book and stone were engulfed in multi-colored flame. Matilda drew the jeweled poniard from her belt and struck the blade against her wrist. Blood poured from the wound into the goblet. Violet smoke filled the chamber and a loud boom echoed as lightning blazed from the sky, through the ground and struck the stone. The blood was gone when the light disappeared. In a moment, her wound had healed itself. The peal of thunder rescinded and before her stood the Prince of Darkness himself. The young witch had never been before the Evil One without quaking and she fell to her knees in his presence, averting her eyes. His bass voice growled from his throat. "Matilda," he addressed her in the language of Hell, "why are you tardy in attending my whim?" She could feel him snort in his anger. "Forgive me, my Master. I am sorry!" She remained prostrate at his feet. "Forgiveness is for the accursed Ruler of Heaven!" Satan thundered. "Yes my Master!" Matilda said, her heart beating wildly with regret and fear. "Harlot!" The Devil said, pacing the chamber. The flames had died off, but the smell of sulphur still lingered. The temperature of the ritual room was intense. "You have failed to gain me the soul of the monk! Yet again!" "I am sorry, my Master!" Matilda wept at the dirt. Her tears only spiked further rage in the entity. With a wave of his hand, her body was thrown several feet backward into the wall. Her muscles ached, but soon the pain disappeared. She covered her face in shame. "'Master', you say... yet you command me to appear in the presence of my children! I should burn you for a thousand years for such blasphemy!" In a mere second, he towered before her. Clothed in darkness, which always animated to his liking, he was a beautiful creature, his unearthly features strong and bold. Anyone who might live after seeing him would recount that, even though he closely resembled a human, no man or woman could have made him. His wavy, sable hair, the length of which ended at his hip, shone against the light of the lamp. Brows of the same hue hedged eyes as black as the night sky, holding no light within them. Matilda thought his skin dark like a gypsy's and his lips thick like a Persian's. His exquisite mouth was now echoing the scorn in his voice, drawn back to reveal a gleaming white set of teeth, bearing his long, pointed incisors. She feared, with every inch of her life, the gnash of those teeth, the poison that he might inflict with a bite. Her emerald eyes looked at him, wide with terror. He took a fistful of her hair in his massive hand. By this tether, he lifted her from the ground and set her on her feet. The same fist took prisoner, her throat and drew her to him. Lucifer's eyes reflected the lamp's flame as he reared his head back and laughed. "Oh the delightful, sinful pleasure I could instill in those eyes. If only you could know the opposite of that tremble of horror." He combed his large fingers through her hair, tipping her head back. The tears were no more in her eyes and the remnants of them had burned from her face at the Devil's touch. "Would not you like to know, my little witch?" "I would know whatever you wish to impart to your servant. I should be happy with whatever gifts the Evil One would bestow upon me." Matilda said, looking into the vast emptiness of his gaze. He set her on the ground, his finger unclasping at her throat. His broad, self-satisfied smile was contagious. "I desire that you know your monk has fallen in love with the human woman named Antonia. Even now he is thinking the most depraved thoughts... of enjoying her person, of depriving her of her innocence," the Prince of Darkness gauged her response, though he could easily read her thoughts if he wished. Matilda faltered in her admiration of the Devil, frowning as her eyes closed, at the very thought of Ambrosio being with another. Her fists clenched at her side, her teeth gritting together. "Please, I implore you, my Master! Furnish me with a charm to win his affection!" Matilda begged, dropping to her knees, offering her clasped hands up to him. Lucifer smiled deviously down at her. "I have given you many charms. Did they, none of them, succeed?" The lamplight made his demon eyes glimmer. "My Master is too wise. He knows they have not succeeded," she said, retracting her hands and arms. "Do you know why, little witch?" He seemed to regard her with a measure of affection. "I do not, Master." Matilda said, her eyes on the ground, sadness overtaking her. "I am going to reveal to you, Matilda, why he is not won and what you must do next." Satan clapped his hands together and a small sofa appeared, onto which he reclined, eyeing the young witch with a new idea. "Thank you, Master." She sunk to the ground, avoiding the Dark One's eyes. "Ambrosio is not won because such is not meant to be so." Matilda looked into the King of Demons' face again, searching it for an answer to her obvious question. "Yes, it is true Matilda. I have known this since you came to me, but I did not tell you so." "M- Master, you knew this?" she stuttered. She nearly accused him of being cruel but he was the Devil after-all. "It is rare for me to reveal a whole truth, my little witch. Do you remember that which I told you when you first beckoned for me at the grave of your fathers?" the Devil asked. Matilda had to search her memory, for it was a year since she prayed to the Devil to take her soul in return for the love of Ambrosio. She thought hard. "You told me that I may have all of the pleasures of life... whatever I desired, with Ambrosio at my command." "That is true. But he shall not be yours in life. Only after you are both dead will he be yours completely. And I shall give him to you in the Dark Chambers." Matilda's heart swelled with happiness but then nearly burst at the inclination of living life without Ambrosio. She looked to the Devil, knowing he already knew her thoughts. "When the time comes, you are to open to the seventh page of the book which I gave to you and read from it. I will appear to you then, in your time of most dire need. And if you succeed in persuading Ambrosio to follow my orders, he shall be yours." The Devil's eyes still gleamed. "Yes, Dark One! Thank you, my Master!" Matilda threw herself at the base of the couch and then sought out Satan's fingers... to press reverent kisses to them. She looked into his face, tears of joy cresting on her eyelashes, her delicate features: perfect and emotive of what innocence still lay in her. Lucifer lifted her chin. "There is another truth which I will share with you, Matilda." She remained quiet. "I do not wish you to be as my other servants in Hades." Her surprise was evident. "I have many chambers of consorts. They live to satisfy my desires. Their only joy is to serve me. Since you cannot love Ambrosio, devote yourself to loving me. In return, you shall have all the desires of your heart. You shall be commander of all of my arch-demons. They will obey you as they do me and the other consorts." Matilda considered for a moment... considered his anger if she refused, her love for Ambrosio -- that might certainly follow her to the grave and beyond -- the enticement of going to bed with the most pleasurable of beings, of one day owning the rights to Ambrosio's soul, and of having power in the Palaces of Hell. All points considered, the merits were too difficult to ignore. She looked with half-feigned happiness into the Satan's eyes. "It is done then," he said, his lips dripping with mirth. "Abandon your design for the monk in life, aid me in gaining his soul, and he shall be yours for Eternity." "Yes Master," Matilda said. "Now, my consort, I shall partake of you even now," said Lucifer. Matilda's heartbeat sped with curiosity, but coil of fear formed in her stomach and womb. She remained silent and did not stop him as he pushed away her cloak. It fluttered to the floor. Her gown also fell away to join it. The Devil's own darkness melted away as he willed it. He gently lifted Matilda to her feet. She shifted nervously, hoping her body was to his liking. "You are an exquisite creature," said he, noting the voluptuousness of her figure, the plumpness of her breasts and buttocks. "When you are fully prepared, you will make a fine consort." A new flame licked into his eyes. Matilda took the opportunity to observe the Devil in his nakedness. His finely-toned sinew was tight over his arms, chest, stomach, and legs. He stood from the couch. In the way of stature, he towered over her, dwarfing her by comparison. It was then she was able to see the amazing rigid length of his demon-member. It seemed almost a yard long, though she was sure it could be whatever size he wished. The site of the hardness there made her shiver with desire. She had never seen a more impressive being in the whole of her life. "Lie down upon my bed, my little witch. I shall prepare you for your desecration." His lusty smile was born of Hell-flame, but still she obeyed, lying on her back against the warm, velveteen cushions. The Devil clapped his hands and smoke puffed from several places in the chamber. Two figures approached from the fog, appearing naturally human excepting a golden cuff around each one of their necks and a black halo resting on the crown of each. "These demons are my slaves. They follow my commands and yours. They know your mind and will make you an able vessel to receive me." The Devil chuckled. "I have never met a creature which I could not satisfy, so prepare yourself, my little witch, for desire never before known to a human woman." She feared the other creatures, and nearly fled the chamber... but the same fear kept her from quitting the couch. "Master I- " her voice caught in her throat as the Devil motioned to the closest of the two minions. He dropped to his knees and dropped his mouth to the hot peak of her nipple. Her body clenched, her fingers gripping the cushions beneath her. The other of the minions dropped at her feet, soundlessly parted her knees and pressed his face into the mound of blond curls at the entrance to her womanhood. She cried out in surprise, bucking at the sensations flooding her womb. The Monk Ambrosio Ch. 03 If you wonder who any of the characters are, go back and reread Chapters 1 and 2. Thanks for feedback! -------------------------------------------------- A shroud of purple settled on the horizon. The moon shone down upon the monastary grounds as Matilda returned, covered in dirt and dust, to her chamber. Quick hands made her human husk clean, aided by cold water from a basin. Her legs ached from being spread so far, but that ache was far less than the expected pain from her intercourse with the Demon Lord. The burn she'd felt in the catacombs was absent, instead was a delicious throbbing ache. Maybe this was her curse, that she would never be satisfied in life. Reclining on her palette, she yawned with exhaustion. Her heavy eyes drooped and just as she might have drifted into a deep slumber, Ambrosio entered her thoughts. Her meditations were colored differently than before. She could not avoid a bitter taste in her mouth while wondering, 'if the god of the underworld wants me as he does, why then could Ambrosio not also? The new color of her regard for Ambrosio was both a relief for her and a bane. She recognized the absence of her deep love for him and knew a newborn desire to instead own him. Then satisfaction drew a smile on her face. His soul was hers, so long as she did the Dark Master's bidding. Gazing at the folds of her discarded cloak, she could make out the shape of the latest trinket Lucifer had bestowed upon her. Her heart jumped with flame. 'Soon my Ambrosio!' she said. 'Soon you will be chained to my whim and follow my every order!' Sleep soon claimed her, but a new cold darkness filled her sleep. The depth of her evil deed with the Prince of Hell had swallowed up the last of her innocence, depriving her of the ability to dream. The smell of sulfur woke her. Silver smoke was dissipating when she opened her eyes, half-lidded black orbs looked down on her with a look resembling that of an affectionate admirer. "Asmodeus. Why do you disturb my rest?" Addressing the arch-demon, shehe didn't sit up, only turned on her side. The little demons chained to the arch-demon's leg clamored at her robe and slid away the folds to reveal a gilded mirror. They were jerked away almost instantly and whimpered at his feet. "Profuse apologies, mistress." She could see now his gaze had changed and he looked upon her with more fear than he had in past times. "As you instructed, I followed the young monk, Ambrosio and discovered his destination." "Relay to me what you have seen. Spare no detail," she bit her lip and listened. "The monk answered a call for a visit to a sick woman, Elvira. She is the mother of that girl, Antonia, the object of Ambrosio's desire. He departed the monastery with his wits about him but did not return in the same manner." Matilda could detect his glee in relating the information. "Indeed?" she answered haughtily, endeavoring to appear unphased. "He has been in his chamber for a full hour, kneeling in prayer. He is praying for forgiveness." "This does not inspire surprise, Asmodeus. He is piety incarnate. It is for his piety that I first felt stirrings of love," she felt a sigh rise in her bosom but did not release it. "You may not love him so well if you see this," he withdrew from his cloak a framed portrait. The painted canvas was ripped in twain. It was a portrayal of the Madonna, but the features were Matilda's own. She had commissioned the piece herself and had paid to have it delivered to Ambrosio. In turn, unaware of the subject's true identity, he had spent many hours meditating on the beauty of the woman, only to find out later that it was modeled from Matilda. Now rent from its sacred place, ripped and abused, it was obvious to Matilda that Ambrosio not only disliked her, he hated her. "I love only our Master," she said resolutely. "I have no love for the monk any longer. I have only to gain his soul and I shall own him for eternity. I am to be a vessel for the Dark Master himself. I will have authority over the arch-demons, paid to me upon my death." "I could sense that you had been changed. You are no longer entirely human," Asmodeus said. "You have tasted the delights of Lucifer's flesh." Asmodeus' eyes glowed with what could have been envy. "I am surprised that the experience did not condemn you to death." He looked away and she could sense a heat building inside of him. "It was indeed delicious. No man or arch-demon could ever know such pleasure," she said, narrowing her eyes, smiling wide. Asmodeus was quiet, a scowl on his face... then the scowl twisted into a smile. "Your monk... he advanced on the young Antonia. She refused his seductions and he was turned from the house. Our Master has made a deal with God. God insists that his perfect creation would never harm an innocent. God has insisted that the Dark One tempt Ambrosio." "There is no denying he would rob Antonia of her innocence if presented with the opportunity." "Yes, but his ultimate sin cannot be committed unless he enters that house once more and he is barred from Elvira's house. And if he cannot enter, you shall never have him." He chuckled. She could sense his disdain bundled with joy at what might cause her suffering. "And now I depart, for I can no longer be of any more service to you." With a deep bow, silver smoke consumed him and she was alone again. She quaked with anger, the words echoing in her mind, 'he advanced on the young Antonia.'...'-,you shall never have him.' "I shall have him!" she exclaimed. She quit her bed and changed into a fresh robe. Now was the time to present Ambrosio with the key to his undoing! Outside of the monk's chamber, Matilda listened with her ear pressed to the door. She heard a mumbling, the sound of his fruitless prayers no doubt. She silently slid open the door and closed it behind her once inside. She took care to close the lock. Ambrosio's dark head lifted from the bed. "Be gone!" he growled as he dropped his head back onto his cot. "My sweet, my love," she cooed softly, dropping to her knees beside him. "I have brought you a gift from God." He did not look up. "Come now," she whispered. "I prayed at the alter of St. Francis. I asked forgiveness for my sins and asked for a gift I might give you to answer the prayers of your deepest heart." She lifted the mirror from her cloak and laid it on the bed. Ambrosio lifted his head, examining the mirror without touching it, "What new devilry is this?" "It is a gift from god. St. Francis appeared to me and said this mirror will show you your deepest desires. Then it should be a relic and will bless the monastery for as long as its walls stand. He bade me bring it to you and ordered me to tell you of its powers." She lifted it so he could see the glass clearly. Etched into its borders were characters unknown to him. At his glance they glowed fire-red and a thick smoke poured over the mirror. Shapes and colors flowed until they solidified into definable shapes. Ambrosio gasped in shock as Antonia's figure appeared in the mirror. She was undressing to bathe! His heart jumped and his manhood hardened instantly. She was only thinly veiled, but he could see the pert breasts rising and falling under the thin scarf. Her nipples hardened against a draft. A triangular shadow could be seen just barely through the lower part of the veil. Then she drew off the veil and his breath was caught in his throat. Her breasts bobbed free, porcelain globes with pink peaks, perfect for suckling. The sable curls at the apex of her thighs now shone in the sunlight from a near window and a blossom of maidenhood peaked out from underneath. His cock jumped beneath his robes. "It is as I thought, then; I see your heart has been claimed by another," Matilda said, feigning a rueful tone. Ambrosio looked away in shame, unable to control his desire for the young woman. "Your joy is my joy, my love," she whispered in his ear. "I want what you want," she said, letting her fingers wander between his legs. Her hand gripped his rigid flesh. Taking his earlobe in her mouth, she teased it with her tongue as her hand stroked his aching manhood until he was moaning without restraint. "If you go with me to the sepulcher, I can give you a charm to give you your heart's desire. She shall be yours, my love. I swear by this hand," she said, stroking his cock more furiously. "Do with me what you will! If only I can have her!" he cried, his head dropping back, his eyes closed to Heaven, reveling in the delicious pleasure of each jerk of Matilda's squeezing fingers. "Oh Antonia!" he cried. His cock spasmed in her hand, a dark puddle forming in the cloak, a little dripping against her palm. She lifted her hand and licked the slick refuse away. "Oh my love, my Ambrosio. You shall have her, I swear to you." The image in the mirror faded and she stood. "Now we must hurry," she commanded. "Follow me." Matilda pulled her hood over the golden curls atop her head and proceeded to the door. Wearily Ambrosio rose, pulling his cloak tight over his body. Knees shaking, he followed as best he could, not unlike a lovesick puppy, until they were soon treading the dark brown earth of the graveyard, then the sepulcher. "Stay here," she instructed. He did so, twitching with anticipation until she returned. No longer wearing her habit, she stood in a sable robe embroidered with unknown characters, a jeweled belt hanging around her waist. The finery of her raiment was unearthly. She stretched out her hands, her wrists bearing bloody marks showing through fresh bandages. She looked a bit pale. "Take this myrtle branch. With this, all doors will open at your whim and will allow you access to Antonia's bedchamber. Then, once in, breathe on it thrice, pronounce her name and lay it on her pillow. A death-like slumber will invade her body and she will be powerless against you. Take care, for the light of morning will break the enchantment. She will be deflowered but will not know her ravisher. Take this as a symbol of my friendship and love." There was a glimmer in her eyes that his wisdom advised him to distrust, but his lust prompted him to receive the branch. He returned to his chamber, informing the other monks that he was to spend the day fasting and praying. Instead he waited with great agitation for the fall of midnight. When the bells gave the alert, he vacated the monastery grounds and made his way on foot to the house of Elvira. He held out the branch and the front locks unfastened themselves. It was fortunate for him that he knew the house so well. He was able to navigate in the darkness and soon found the entrance to Antonia's apartment. Once more he lifted the branch to the door and the locks clicked open. He tried the door and slid it open. Through Antonia's sitting room he trod to her bedroom door. Silent as a mouse, he proceeded through another easily opened door and closed it behind him. He lifted the branch to his lips and breathed on it thrice, whispered Antonia's name, then approached the bed. He dropped it gently onto her pillow and a soft golden glow glittered over her body. Her breathing, which was already slight grew even more shallow and she was still, a small smile on her face. His manhood stood rigid once more. His breath was hot in his lungs as he dragged the sheet from her sleeping body. With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned her shift. A creamy globe fell free from the thin cloth. He took it greedily in his hand and squeezed its perfection, twisting the rosy nipples in his fingers till they were red with pinch-marks. She issued a small moan that made him dizzy with delight. Impatient to see her full nakedness, he ripped the cotton shift down the front until her flat stomach was exposed, then the tiny lips between her thighs. Pulling away his robes and then his trousers quickly, he laid his weight down on her slight frame. Her whole body was soft as velvet. His manhood tightened even further and he fought the impulse to fuck her immediately. He filled his mouth with her nipples, biting and sucking until he had had his fill of the sweet skin. Wetness dripped from his mouth as he lifted his head, dripping across her swollen breasts. He was an animal in heat now, all hardness and heat. He dropped his head to her mouth, thumbing her chin down so her small dreaming smile parted. He thrust his tongue against hers and lifted his head to breathe deep, feeling as though he would burst if he didn't satisfy himself soon. "Now you wanton, you temptress, I will prepare you for your desecration," he said almost angrily. He slid down over her until he was eye-level with her sex. He parted her knees and spread the lips of her cunt apart, exposing the pure flushed virgin flesh there. He scooped his hands under her backside, gripping handfuls of its roundness in his palms. He drove his mouth against the entirety of her sex, his face wet with the juices he created. He slid a hand out from underneath her and pulled apart the perfumed folds of skin. He licked hungrily at the little nub there until it was hard as nipple in his lips. Carefully, he spread the folds wider until her tiny fuck-hole was exposed. It looked impossibly small. No man had ever entered here and soon he would stretch her and fill her with his aching rod. Doing his best to hold on for just few more minutes, he filled the narrow opening with his tongue repeatedly, lifting his head to expectorate and push the frothy spittle as deep into her as possible without violating her virginity. His chin and nose were dripping when he lifted his head to look at her face. Her whole body was pink and a sheen of perspiration made her body glow. "Be prepared my sleeping beauty, for the destruction of your innocence," he murmured. Even though he felt madness creeping in, he angled himself properly and watched as the head of his swollen member parted her cunt-lips. He pressed his cock-head further in until he felt the resistance of her maidenhood fighting the throbbing pressure of his muscle. One thrust vanquished it and he growled as he felt the last of his sanity wane. He stuffed her full of his cock then repeated the action. Like a dog in heat, he furiously shoved his length against the walls of her channel. He ignored an impulse to pace himself at a rhythm that might have helped him last longer, instead his hips crashed against hers rapidly, his hands gripping her thighs tight until soon she was little more than a hot hole for his member to occupy then swiftly vacate. Now she was less than a person... now just a mass of used flesh, unaware and unheeding. Finally, his cock-head buried deep in her cunt, his cum jettisoned into her womb, filling her until its heat spilled onto the tattered remains of her shift and sheets. He withdrew and leaned limp against the wall. Trickles of blood reddened the sheets. He steadily caught his breath and as he was leaving the bed, he heard a knock at the door. This threw him into a frenzy and before he could grab his clothes from the floor, the door was opening to reveal Antonia's shocked mother, Elvira. "Lord in Heaven! What goes on here!" she gasped. She rushed to her daughter and broke into sobs. "You heathen! What have you done?!" Taking her daughter's shoulders in her hand, she shook them. "Antonia! Antonia! This sleep is not natural! What have you do-" In his panic, Ambrosio had picked up a vase nearby and smashed it over Elvira's head. She collapsed like an abandoned marionette to the floor. Antonia still lay in oblivious sleep. Ambrosio quickly threw on his robes and prepared to vacate the chamber. He glanced behind him one last time. Elvira's eyes were open and a pool of blood was issuing from the back of her head. He was fair sure he had broken her head and horror struck him as the full realization of his sins fell upon him. He ran from the house and walked as fast as possible, through the shadows like the snake he had become, until he reached to the monastery. He was just in time for matins and he only kneeled on the pulpit, not praying, knowing somehow he was beyond salvation. He had ravished one woman and killed another. Surely hell had a definite place for him. He returned to his cell and laid upon his liter, unmoving and petrified. It was not until midnight that he rose from his bed and knelt in prayer at his open window. The moonlight was cold on his face. He shivered in remorse. Then there was a soft rumble from behind him and a flame filled the room. A figure wreathed in flame stood before him, cloaked in red. "Sinner! I have come to collect you!" said the voice. He did not recognize whose it was at first and terror at the scene kept him from examining it closer. "No! I have asked God for forgiveness," said Ambrosio, cowering against the wall. "God has forsaken you, you unworthy sinner. Your entreaty comes too late! For it is one of the greatest sin you have knowingly and willingly committed yester-day." Through his trembling he was able to discern parts of the voice that were familiar. "M... Matilda?" He quivered. The figure lifted a bejeweled hand and drew off the hood of its cloak. Her golden curls shone fiercely inside the wreath of flame. Her green eyes were now black and lifeless. Her smile was bright red and the teeth exposed when she did so were pointed and terrible. "Yes, my Ambrosio. You have committed the final sin! Now you belong to me!" She threw out her arm and from it issued a gold light that encircled Ambrosio's throat until it formed the shape of a shackle, the tether of which led to the hem of her robe. He found he could not break free. "It cannot be! Many a man have committed sin and received forgiveness!" He cried. "Not so, for any man who commits sin and is penitent, may find salvation in time and with good works. But your time has run out! God has given you the chance to turn from your wickedness, but you have chosen the way of lust. The moment you accepted the myrtle branch, you gave your soul to darkness. And now you must know the whole truth!" She smiled from ear to ear. "You were an orphan, my slave, left on the doorstep of the monastery, this you know. You were brought up under the tutelage of the monks to be very holy. But upon this day, you committed your final sin, one of them upon your own mother!" "No! It cannot be... Elvira was-!" He shrieked. "Yes my fuck slave, revel in your sorrow!" she commanded with fire in her voice. "It cannot be! No!" The truth drove him near madness and his heart seethed. Pain shot through his body. "Yes! And as for your little slut which you ruined! Did you not realize why you were so drawn to her!? YOU NOW KNOW THE TRUTH! PROCLAIM YOUR SIN!" "Antonia was my sister!" He screamed. Matilda threw her head back and let out an unearthly laugh, dark and blood-curdling. "NOW YOU KNOW! And now you are mine forever! Come with me Ambrosio and suffer your eternal fate at my side!" Flames tore through his body, his robes burning, his skin charring as his nerves burst into indescribable pain. Consumed in hellfire, they both disappeared. The flames rescinded, leaving nothing but ash and smoke in their wake. The Monk Ambrosio Ch. 04 This is kind of an epilogue that explains what happens to Ambrosio once he becomes property of Matilda in Hell. If you are unsure about the situation, go back and read Chapters 1, 2 and 3. Thanks for any feedback! -------------------------------------------------- 'Intus Abyssus' (Latin - In Hell) Ambrosio felt warm. It was the first sensation he felt when he woke from his sleep. He was so comforted by the warmth that he didn't open his eyes. It was silent around him. Matins would be commencing soon, but he could not hear any of the monks moving outside in the corridors. He meditated on his strange dream, one of dark delights and being engulfed in flames. His neck felt tight and he reached up to rub his fingers over the muscle. Instead of his own skin, he felt the cold steel of a shackle. His eyes flew open. His vision hadn't been the invention of a slumbering mind, rather it was true! Instead of stone walls and ceilings, he was surrounded by slabs of black marble and ornamentation of onyx and gold. He could hear crackling of flames distant and near popping in his ear. Adding to his panic was the fact that he was alone and naked. He lay upon a bejeweled bed covered in the fur skins of unknown beasts. On the air was the slight stench of sexual congress and the iron smell of blood. "No!" he whispered to himself. "No it cannot be!" He stepped off the bed onto the floor which showed his own reflection. He looked down and could see his panicked face and the gold shackle which tethered him to the bed. His hand went to his chest, where the pit of anxiety in his chest was burning white-hot. To his horror, he found there was no heartbeat! "Oh god! I am dead! I am in Hell! Oh my soul!" he cried. A sudden jerk on the chain from behind sent him sprawling onto his back and arrested by invisible hands. "My dear Ambrosio," said a soft voice. He knew immediately that it was Matilda. "Matilda!" "You will address me as 'Mistress' and never by that filthy human name again, do you understand slave!" she thundered. He was aware of where she stood now and could hear her footsteps some small distance away. "Mephistopheles has given me a new name, a far more beautiful name. The Dark One addresses me as 'Baelesta.'" "Please Matilda, let me go. God will forgive me if you only let me go!" he entreated pitifully. "I shall never wrong another again, if only I can go return to the monastery. I would pray a thousand prayers." "DID YOU NOT HEAR MY WORDS, FOOL!" her voice boomed. "Wish not for succor, for there is none in Heaven, Hell or Earth for you!" She laughed her dark, evil laugh then approached him. "You belong to me now," she said softly. Looking up he could see the blossom of her womanhood, swollen and raw with desire. A small bit of her juices dripped onto his face. A leather corset boosted her large breasts. She was still the Madonna of the painting he had possessed while he was a monk, gorgeous and exquisitely beautiful. He tried to tear away his gaze, but he was consumed with an unwarranted lust, the strength of which had never before been known to him. Now he was her slave... and something else, no more a human. His manhood reacted and gazing down he could see her hand waving over his organ and then unseen forces were stroking him. Small pearls of clear fluid issued from the tip and dripped down. He moaned in unadulterated ecstasy. It was the most amazing feeling he had ever felt. "You will feel the depths of pain as well as pleasure you filth. Now come, you piece of excrement!" she commanded. "No! Leave me! I am dying!" he said in his panic. The pleasure was more than he had ever felt. Though he was sure he was already dead, he felt that death was coming again for him and he would sink deeper still into Hell. "Come you dirty whore! Come for your demon mistress!" her voice boomed. With a guttural cry, his orgasm ripped through his body like a bolt of lightning. He shot hot ropes of liquid from his cock and he laid back, still arrested, weeping while she chuckled. She stood over him, her wet channel at such a level that if she squatted, he would enter her. She opened her hand and into it materialized a thick black whip, jewels set into the handle. "I will punish you this way for all eternity," she said, lifting a heeled foot. She shoved the spiked heel into his testicles. He yelped in agony. "I will make you wish you had never wanted her. I shall use you until I no longer want you, then I shall cast you into the lake of fire," she promised. She lowered to her knees and shoved his softening member into her cunt. It was hot as a brand inside and the pain caused him to cry out. "Do you like this cunt? Is it as good as Antonia's?" she teased. Her hips lifted up and then settled back down until his soft sack was pressed tight under her buttocks. "Please, please let me go..." he repeated. "BE SILENT!" she screamed and lashed his face with the whip. Red stripes appeared there and tears fell from his eyes again. She rocked up and down on his cock until she was smiling and breathing hard. Confusion mixed with guilt, mixed with enjoyment. He couldn't contain his moans and groans. Each stroke was more exquisite than the last. He imagined no greater pleasure but then she began fucking him violently until his aching organ began to spasm again. Once again he sprayed an alarming amount of seed deep into her womb. "You unforgivable SLUT!" she yelled. "You have come without permission!" she reproached. "NEVER come without my consent!" she ordered and lifted herself from his soft, raw dick. She stood and took a few steps until her dripping slit was just above his face. "Since you love coming so much, CLEAN IT ALL UP LIKE THE SLAVE YOU ARE!" She dropped her hips and shoved her swollen lips against his mouth. She reached down and spread the folds until her tight hole was exposed. His fluids spilled from it. He tried his best to avoid the drips, but some of them dropped on his tongue and a little got in his nose. Some dripped over his cheeks and onto his ears. "OPEN YOUR MOUTH SLAVE OR YOU SHALL DRINK GALLONS OF IT!" He was weeping again, his face dripping with sweat, tears and his own spunk. He opened his mouth and sobbed as she held his nose. He choked on the gush of white liquid that issued from her until he felt as though he were drowning. When it was gone, she lifted an eyebrow as if asking why he stopped. "My command was for you to clean it away," she said gently. He swallowed what was left in his mouth, then stuck out his tongue. Gagging, he licked the warm salt from the tiny nub and the folds there. "INSIDE!" she insisted. He stuck his tongue out and stiffened it. She lowered even further, so he could barely breathe. His nose nudged the button nested in her blonde curls. He licked in wide circles inside the passage of her channel until he was sure he had cleaned it all. She didn't stop there. Instead her face was flushed again with the madness of lust. She ground her fuck-hole onto his hardened tongue. She was fucking his face as she might his cock. He choked and sputtered, trying his best to keep his tongue stiff. She gripped his hair, riding his face. He felt as though he were going to pass out from being deprived of breath, when a torrent of piping liquid bathed his already sticky face. Shame flooded him as he realized that somehow his manhood was standing at attention once more. "Want to come again, aye?" she asked. "This is the beginning of your eternity, Ambrosio. You come when I say you come. You love who I say you can love. You obey your Mistress now. I own you." She stood and smiled down at his disheveled form, utterly humiliated, tethered to the floor... hers forever.