Author's Note:
Apologies for the complete irreverence of this story. I am not religious at all, but I had enormous fun writing this! It is set in Regency era England.
Mr. Henry Carter, curate of the parish of Glenwood, was having a hard time adjusting to his new role. He had recently obtained his position several months ago, working under the rector, a stout man in his 50s, Mr. Niles Brewer.
Henry, being a very devout young person of age 24, was shocked when he had arrived in Glenwood and become aware of the indolent practice of Mr. Brewer. The rector did perhaps two hours of work every week, sending Henry to do the rest as he relaxed in his study with a novel and a plate of cookies.
It had been a stroke of luck, or so he had thought, when Henry had been offered the curacy at Glenwood. It was a prosperous parish, and his living now exceeded that of many of his friends at university. But the indifferent way in which Mr. Brewer conducted church business was, well, unholy! To counteract his employer's laziness, Henry threw himself into the community, working feverishly on sermons in between attending to all of the baptisms, marriages, and funerals, as well as visiting the poor.
Mr. Brewer just laughed. "Don't work too hard, my boy!" he would say in his jovial, booming voice. "The church will get along fine with just a Sunday sermon and a sacrament here and there. No need to go to all of that trouble."
His careless words just seemed to make the fervor in Henry grow even brighter. He had visions of glory in which the people of Glenwood would hail him as a stalwart leader of the community, when they would sit in rapturous silence and drink in his inspiring words from the pulpit every Sunday.
This afternoon, he walked along the village street, completely unaware of the attention his tall, broad-shouldered figure, clad all in black, generated among the women of Glenwood. Any eligible young man newly arrived to the neighborhood was a welcome sight; for him to be handsome, with a thick thatch of black hair and serious gray eyes, was an exciting bonus. Henry, his head full of romantic notions of the clergy, hardly noticed the teasing looks directed his way. He had sometimes thought the young ladies of the parish were a little more than attentive, but his brain was too much in an abstract fog to notice, which of course added to his mysterious appeal.
He was on his way to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, wealthy landowners with three young daughters. The oldest, Belinda, had just turned 18 and had come out the season before. She was generally recognized to be the belle of Glenwood, with beautiful, curling blonde hair and the face of an angel with wide, blue eyes. Her body had ripened becomingly into lush curves that stirred the fantasies of all the young men in the village. All the young men except for Henry, of course.
Henry arrived at the door and the unsmiling butler led him to Mr. Chamberlain's study. The older gentleman was of the round, red-faced variety and he waved Henry in. "Come in, come in, Mr. Carter. I must say, I'm very glad to see you." He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his sweaty brow.
"How may I be of service, Mr. Chamberlain? Your message sounded most urgent." Henry sat down across the desk.
"Well, well," Mr. Chamberlain coughed. He seemed to be having trouble with his words. Henry waited patiently. "You see, Mr. Carter, the trouble is with Belinda."
"Belinda?" Henry searched his memory. "Your eldest daughter, you mean?"
"Yes, her." For a few seconds, Mr. Chamberlain's face grew so red that Henry was alarmed. Should the old gentleman have sent for a doctor instead of a clergyman? But Mr. Chamberlain shook himself and started again.
"It has come to our attention-- That is, the missus and I have discovered-- Well, Belinda has been acting very strangely of late. Yesterday, the housekeeper found her--ahem--exhibiting herself to the gardener in the greenhouse. This was, unfortunately, not the first time." Mr. Chamberlain pulled at his collar and Henry cleared his throat, feeling suddenly discomfited as well. The small study seemed to grow close and hot.
"She has been giving us trouble for some time now. We have caught her with the butcher's boy in the shed. And there was that time our friend Mr. Allenby came to stay... He was absolutely shocked at her behavior. Shocked to his toes!" He harumphed and opened a drawer in his desk, bringing out a long, thick object. Henry stared as Mr. Chamberlain dropped it on the desk with a loud, wooden thud. "And Mrs. Chamberlain found this in her bedchamber the other day."
Henry leaned forward to inspect it more closely. It was carved in the shape of a phallus. A rather large phallus, from Henry's experience in all of his years of boarding school and university.
"Who knows where she got this!" Mr. Chamberlain said in an explosive grunt. "She won't tell us, and we are at our wits' end. As you know, Mr. Carter, a young lady's reputation is all she has, and my wife and I are worried that Belinda's marriage prospects, not to mention those of her younger sisters, will be utterly ruined if word gets out of her wanton behavior."
Henry gazed at his host in utter bewilderment. "But sir, why am I here? What do you expect me to do?"
"How the hell should I know?" Mr. Chamberlain was gruff in his own ignorance of how to handle his lusty daughter. "You're the clergyman. Talk to her and fix this!"
He stood up and rang the bell and as Henry sputtered in his seat, the door opened and in walked Belinda.
For once, Henry did not have his head in the clouds, thinking of his next sermon. It was the first time he had really seen the girl without blindly passing his gaze over her, and the blonde's beauty stunned him into a brief stupor. Before he knew it, Mr. Chamberlain had slammed the door behind him, leaving them alone in the study, which all of a sudden felt suffocatingly small.
Belinda, for her part, took Henry in with a long glance. His strong jaw was taut and his gray eyes stormy. She curtsied and walked forward. He hastily jumped to his feet and bowed.
"Miss Belinda!" he said, in a slightly strangled voice.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Carter," she responded, her honeyed voice raising the little hairs on the back of his neck.
Ever since he had gotten over his awkward teen years, Henry had devoted himself wholesale to his studies. He had even thought of taking a vow of celibacy, not wanting the sins of the flesh to distract him from his dream of becoming an archdeacon. Thus, it had been a long time since he had felt any stirring in his nether regions, and his cheeks took on a hot flush when he realized his cock was coming to life at the sight of Belinda's ripe body, clad in a simple navy dress.
He abruptly sat down again to hide his uncomfortable state and attempted to take control of the situation. The young girl was standing before him now, the large desk behind her. The light from the windows beyond created a nimbus around her figure and Henry swallowed hard at the irony of this angelic-looking creature hiding such sinful desires.
"Miss Belinda," he began, "Your father has charged me with the task of curing you of your unnatural proclivities."
Belinda merely continued looking at him, with a serene smile on her lovely countenance. She leaned back against the desk, her hands resting on its surface. The position seemed to push her ample bosom up higher, already straining at the tight confines of her bodice.
"I-I command you to stop this behavior at once. God does not look kindly on those who indulge in the seven deadly sins, and as you know, lust is one of th--" Henry trailed off, suddenly realizing two things. One, that in his rush to exit, Mr. Chamberlain had left the wooden phallus out on his desk, and two, Belinda's slender fingers were now caressing it.
He started when Belinda said, "Continue, Mr. Carter. You were saying something about lust?"
Henry dragged his eyes from where Belinda's delicate, white hand was stroking that unholy instrument. Her face looked as angelic as ever.
"Ahem, yes. As I was saying, God will punish those who give in to their base desires. You are a good girl, Miss Belinda," Henry said, although with a swelling of doubt in his heart. "Don't you want to reach the gates of Heaven?"
"Oh but Mr. Carter," she said. "I have discovered a Heaven here on our Earthly plane. It is the most blessed feeling, and I feel sure God would not disapprove."
Henry's face grew red at her implication and he stammered again. "Th-that is for m-me to say, Miss Belinda. And I say again, that God will punish you with the fires of hell for your sinful actions."
Belinda did not seem to be affected by his threats. Instead, she ran a hand over the enticing swell of her breasts down over her skirts before she cupped her sex between her thighs, her white skin in contrast to the dark blue of her dress.
"But sir," she purred wickedly. "I have such an ache, just here. How shall I fill this ache in a way that God will approve?" She brought the large, wooden phallus down and thrust it where her hand had been, the fabric of her dress and underthings bunching with it.
Henry was open-mouthed now, his brow sheened with sweat. He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat, but seemed to have nothing more to say at the moment.