Colette at the End of the World

Note to readers:

This is the FINAL episode in the Queensmount Adventure Series. I know what a pain it is to have to go back and read other stories first, but it is necessary in this case.

Here is a link to the series page:

https://www.literotica.com/series/se/queensmount-adventures

As always - leave a comment! I love hearing from readers!

Thanks for taking the time and I really hope you enjoy "Colette at the End of the World".

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The night is dark and the storm is fierce. Flashes of violent lightning reveal torrential rain falling in sheets and running rivers down the cobblestone path. Only a small gable over a heavy, oak-hewn door keeps us from being washed away. A sputtering gas lamp supplies the only light. I knock firmly on the old, worn wood and we wait.

The sound of footsteps on stone and then a small panel slides open.

"Who calls on such a dreary evening?" The voice is strong and female, clearly elderly and careworn.

"I am Father Sarducci on an official quest for the Church." I try to sound assured and official. "We have come to meet with Father Serra."

A squinting eye gazes at me through the door opening for a long moment. This isn't going to work.

To my surprise the door slowly swings in, complaining with a loud, rusty squeak. We step into the foyer and shake the water from our cloaks. I remove my wide, soaked hat, hold it to my chest and bow slightly to the nun standing before us.

"Bless you, Sister. This rain harkens back to the fifth chapter of Genesis."

The elderly nun frowns. "I wouldn't know. Is the Father expecting you?"

"I don't believe so. We have never met, but he knows my companion. Please tell him that Father Guido Sarducci and Sister Constance need to avail ourselves of his expertise."

"Very well. Wait here." She turns sharply on her slippers and pads out of the room.

Sister Constance turns to me with a sly smile under her dripping, black hood. "Avail ourselves?" She laughs softly.

"I'm sorry," I reply, acting offended. "I am not as skilled at this as you," I explain, shaking the water from my hat and removing my sopping cloak. I help Sister Constance out of her dripping, hooded cape and hang the wet garments on hooks by the door.

After several minutes our grim greeter returns.

"Come with me."

We follow her down a long, dark hallway. The floor is rough granite; the walls alternate between faded wood panels and textured stuccowork. Flickering lamps cast warm pools of yellow light every five paces or so. She stops at a door at the end of the hall, raps softly, swings it open and stands aside for us to enter.

We step into a cavernous room. Three of the four walls are covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves, spilling over with books, scrolls and various dusty antiquities. The high, dark wood ceiling is broken by skylights that flash bright white in the storm. At the far end of the room is a great, stone hearth with a blazing fire, crackling and spitting. Before that is a heavy oak table piled high with open books and loose papers. The large man seated behind the table looks up, a wide smile on his even wider face. He stands, spreads his arms and cries out, "Welcome! Come in!"

He moves to us quickly and grabs Sister Constance up in a smothering embrace, laughing out loud.

"Oh, it's so good to see you again! How long has it been, my dear?"

When the bear hug ends, she pulls away enough to answer, "Much too long, Father."

"Indeed!" He turns to the elderly nun. "Sister Agnes. We should provide for our guests. Some hot tea and cakes would be much appreciated, I am sure."

"As you wish, Father." She gives us a slight, solemn bow and turns to leave, pulling the door gently behind her.

Father Serra holds Constance at arm's length and looks her over from head to toe. "Now, my dear. What brings you to my library on this furious night?" He glances my way as if noticing me for the first time. "And who might this be?"

She reaches up and pulls off her white, silken sari, freeing her long, dark hair. The excessive humidity has tightened her curls and she shakes her head softly. Colette, my lovely pirate queen, reveals herself at last.

"First, I have a gift for you." Colette holds her hand out to me and I retrieve a small box from my satchel. She hands it to the Father. "I know how much you love these cigars."

"Oh, bless you, my dear! " He grabs her up in another giant hug. "My only vice," he says to me with a wink.

"How can I repay your generosity?"

Colette looks at me and nods. I retrieve the "Looking Glass" map from my satchel and hand it to her.

"I am in need of your skills, Father." She removes the leather ties from the roll and unfurls it enough to show a corner to the priest.

"Of course! Come!" Father Serra pulls Colette by the hand to the large, oak table. I follow along feeling like a short oar. He clears a space and she rolls the map out before him.

There is a soft knock on the door. It opens slowly and Sister Agnes enters with a serving tray.

Father Serra looks up. "Just leave it by the door, Sister. Thank you. Please prepare the suite for our guests. I will show them the way. Have a blessed evening. Good night."

Dismissed, Sister Agnes places the tray on a small table by the door, tips her face down and silently exits the library.

The priest looks up at me and nods towards the tea. "Would you be so kind, son? Those sweet cakes may be a second vice after all." He grins and drops his head to the map again.

As I retrieve our snack and pour us each a cup of steaming tea Colette and Father Serra discuss the map at great length. She explains to him that she discovered it was a mirror image but still could not decipher the text. She also didn't recognize any of the landmasses depicted.

"You were right to come to me, my dear," he says around a mouthful of cake. "It is indeed Latin. And written with a very florid hand." He points a chubby finger at the ornate arrow in the upper left corner. "It is not only a mirror image but inverted. This is not a north arrow. It points south. This map was created south of the equator." He deftly flips the map around.

Colette puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head.

"The top of the world depends greatly upon your point of view," he adds with a chuckle.

Father Serra runs his chubby finger along a curved chain of islands. "Unless I miss my guess this is the Isle of Martinique, the largest in the Windward chain. This text seems to be referring to one of these smaller rocks, however. Have you been to the area, my dear?"

"Yes," Colette says. "But it was quite some time ago and I was very young. You?"

"No. Just books and maps. I have never had the pleasure myself." He continues to study the map intently.

"It will take a while for me to decipher these writings and it looks as though you have a long journey ahead of you. I suggest you retire for the evening and leave me to my studies and tobacco."

Father Serra directs us to the guest suite; back down the hall, third door on the left. "Come see me in the morning after you've had your breakfast. I should have it ready for you then."

"Thank you, Father."

"Oh, and, as you know; discretion is prized here in the abbey. Even under a vow of silence, the sisters find a way to gossip."

Colette gives him a soft kiss on the cheek, making the priest blush and ties the white sari back around her neck and over her head. She smiles sweetly at him and says, "Your generosity is eclipsed only by your kindness, Father."

We see ourselves to the door and step into the dark hallway.

As we walk quietly, counting the doorways I whisper to Colette, "Eclipsed?"

She gives me a stern look that never reaches her eyes. "Hush, Boy. Not here!"

I swallow my laughter and we silently enter the third door, closing it softly behind us.

The room is humble and unadorned, lit faintly by several sputtering candles. The furniture is simple but sturdy. The main sitting room features a dressing table and a large, leaded glass window crossed with wrought iron bars. The storm still rages outside and flashes of lightning fill the room with blinding brightness. The bedroom is visible through a doorless opening.

Colette turns to me and smiles. I am again struck by her beauty when not adorned as the pirate queen. Her pink, freckled cheeks round up into small apples when she smiles, just begging to be bitten. Her dark green eyes sparkle in the candlelight and her soft, full lips make my mouth water.

"I can't help myself," she laughs softly. "He does that to me. I am nothing but a little girl when I am around Father Serra."

"And a very pretty little girl at that, M'Lady."

She puts her hands on her waist and cocks her hips to the side, nodding at the storm raging outside. "Do I tempt the fates by masquerading as one so virtuous?"

I place a hand gently on each of her shoulders and smile, gazing deep into the liquid depths of her eyes. "You, M'Lady, are as much a gift from heaven as the sun, the moon and the stars."

"Oh, how you love to blather, Boy." She takes a small step away from me and pulls off her sari, tossing it to the dressing table. She shakes out her curls once again. She looks up at me, shares a decadent little grin, lifts an eyebrow seductively and reaches behind her neck to loosen the cord holding her cassock. She tilts her shoulders and it suddenly drops to her feet, causing all of the blood in my body to rush between my legs.

This raven-haired vision is standing before me covered, and just barely, in only a tiny pair of black, lace panties and mid-calf, low-heeled boots. She puts her hands back on her waist, causing her perky breasts to jiggle and she licks her lips, tempting me with a look that makes my head swim with desire. Her nipples look like delicate, chocolate candies and I long to take them into my mouth and suck sweetness from them. I step forward clumsily and grab her up in a full-body hug, pressing my swelling post into her smooth belly. She looks up at me and my mouth finds hers. We drink deeply from each other as our thirsty tongues tangle and our passions rise.

"We may need to avail ourselves of the confessional tomorrow, Boy," she whispers with a wicked grin.

"I will only confess my love and desire for you, M'Lady."

I pick her up and carry her to the bedroom, laying her gently on the low, soft bed, kneeling between her legs, a supplicant at the altar of love and passion. I gently unbuckle and remove each of her boots and run my rough hands up the smooth, white skin of her legs, kneading and massaging her inner thighs, progressing slowly to the treasure covered by her very slight panties. I caress around her most sensitive areas, carefully touching and tickling the moist silk, catching the scent of her excitement along with the jasmine soap she uses. She moans deeply as I rub her panties gently into her wet crevasse.

Her hips rise from the bed, pressing into my fingers as her groans increase. I lean my head close, place my mouth on the wet silk of her panties and exhale slowly. My hot breath brings her to another level of arousal, and she grabs my hair with both hands, pulling me hard into her. I can taste her honey dew and feel her soft pussy open to me as I press my tongue against the sopping wet silk of her underwear. She bucks her hips and gasps as I begin to nibble her engorged petals and rub my nose up and down her slick slot.

Pulling the material aside with my teeth I penetrate her quivering pussy with my tongue. She cries out in extreme pleasure as a loud thunderclap shakes the stone abbey and the heavy rains slam against the window. Flashes of lightning illuminate her sweaty body as she arches her back and clutches the bed sheets to either side. My lips find her swollen clit and I suck and nibble it tenderly, swirling it around with my probing tongue. I gently press two fingers into her soft wetness, find her button and begin slowly stroking her sensual pleasure even higher.

The violent storm builds both outside the window and within the writhing body of Colette. Suddenly, a huge bolt of lightning fills the room with blinding light and the walls rattle with booming thunder. Colette's heaving form spasms and stiffens with a long, rolling orgasm, her loud cries masked by the sounds of the tumult raging outside. My face and hand are soaked with her sweet fluids as I continue to lick and suck like a wild beast, riding her wave of pleasure all the way to shore, slowing only when her body starts to calm, bringing her back down gently.

Her body finally relaxes and she lays her head back, gasping for breath. I lay my head down on her thigh and do the same. Her hand finds the back of my head and she runs her fingers through my hair.

After a few moments I feel her sit up a bit so I raise my head to look into her emerald eyes. Her beautiful face is flushed and her hair is wet with sweat and humidity. Her lips are full and smiling wide.

"I need that cock, Boy," her smile changes to a hungry leer.

"It is yours for the taking, M'Lady."

She pulls herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, as I slowly stand before her, my knees stiff from kneeling on the stone floor. She reaches up and scratches her sharp fingernails along the bulge in my pants, lustfully humming in her throat. Her deep, green eyes stare into my blue as she begins to loosen the buttons of my trousers, revealing the soaking wet underpants beneath. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband and lowers both pair to my knees as my throbbing cock bounces free, the tip slick with syrup. She takes the shaft gently in one hand and presses her soft cheek to the side. She gives it a light, wet kiss. The feel of her hot lips sends a flurry of shivers up my body and my head swims as all the blood rushes south.

She kisses and nibbles along the side of my mast as my fingers find her thick, curly hair. When her mouth reaches the throbbing tip I steel myself for the ecstasy soon to come. She licks the mushroom head like a hard candy and spreads the sticky syrup all over with her soft tongue. I throw my head back and groan with the incredible pleasure being given by this angel from heaven.

When her lips engulf the tip I feel the breath leave my body. She slowly takes me into her warm mouth, sucking gently and licking the sensitive underside. I can feel her hum, low and throaty as she pulls me deeper and starts to softly stroke the length with her fingers.

She slowly takes me all the way down until I can feel my cock pressing on the back of her throat. Then she pulls off languidly, holding a gentle suction, while her tongue runs a circuit around the pulsating head. I feel as if I will shoot off like a cannon.

Colette begins to bob her head up and down, working into a euphoric rhythm. My knees weaken and my hips thrust uncontrollably, my hands holding her head tightly. I feel that blessed pressure start to rise in my testicles and I know I will erupt soon. My very soul is crying out for sexual release.

She suddenly stops her ministrations, pops her wet mouth off of my slippery cock and holds me gently. "I need you to fill me, Boy."

"It would be my absolute pleasure, M'Lady," I reply breathlessly. She lies back down and spreads her legs, her smooth, pink pussy open for me. I kneel down again with my pants still around my ankles, put a hand on either side of her and press my glass-hard cock slowly, ever so slowly, into her warm wetness. She gasps with pleasure as my girth stretches her wide and the still-sensitive walls of her fabulous pussy grip my cock until I penetrate completely. When I reach the apex I stop pressing and cover her mouth with my own. We share a long, deep, soul-quenching kiss. We drink each other's water and breathe each other's air. My hand finds her breast and I gently pinch her erect nipple, which causes her to begin thrusting her hips. This encourages me to start my own thrusting movements and soon we are completely lost in our sensuous dance.

The raging storm outside is louder than the wet slapping sound of our bodies but our physical passion is greater than any tempest. My thrusting gets harder and faster as I rise up on my hands, watching her intently. Colette bites her lip and pinches her nipples, adding a little bit of pain to her pleasure. She suddenly cries out as she experiences a sudden wave of euphoria and her silky pussy clutches hard on my pistoning shaft. This pushes me over the edge and my cock erupts, spewing a steady stream of hot cream into her welcoming womb. My eyes roll back in my head and I all but pass out, completely spent. I flop down beside Colette and try to catch my breath.

After a few minutes, she lays her head on my sweaty chest, her soft hair tickling my nose.

"That, Boy," she says, soft and low, "was the best sex I've ever had..."

I lift my head and look at her, my eyes wide.

She adds, "...in an abbey."

We laugh together and hold each other. She helps me remove my clothes and we fall asleep, naked, in each other's arms. Even as the storm continues to rage outside we are at blissful peace. Body, heart, and soul.

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I awaken suddenly from a deep and dreamless sleep when dawn's morning light hits my eyes. The vision before me is quite dreamlike, however. Colette is leaning on her elbows at the stone windowsill, completely naked, gazing out at the new day. The warm sunrise is lighting her white skin, giving her an ethereal glow that makes me think I may be dreaming after all.

I rise from the bed quietly and wrap my arms around her, pressing her smooth, cool rump to my swelling crotch.

"Good morning, Boy. I see both of you are up early today." She wiggles her tush on my hardening cock and smiles warmly.

I press harder into her warm crevasse. "You bring out the best in both of us, M'Lady."

"On a morning like this, I long to be at sea." She turns back to the window and looks at the brightening sky wistfully.

There is a soft knock at the door. I put on my pants quickly and retrieve the light breakfast left for us on a tray in the hallway. Small bread loaves, boiled eggs, orange slices and tea. Colette and I enjoy the small meal while sitting on the edge of the bed.

After we eat I return the tray to the hallway while she puts on her cassock, boots and sari. She helps me get the collar tab straight on my clergy shirt. After straightening the bed we make our way back down the hallway to the library.

She raps softly on the door but there is no response. She pushes it open gently and we enter the library. The morning sky is bathing the room in bright, dusty sunshine giving the library a completely different character from last night. Father Serra is in his chair behind the table, his head back, and his mouth open, snoring loudly.

Colette shuts the door firmly, making just a bit more noise than is necessary. The priest snorts and sits up suddenly, his eyes wild and unfocused.

"Come in, my dear!" he calls when he gains his senses. "I was just having a little nap."

The fire has burned to ash and the room is filled with the pungent aroma of tobacco. The empty cigar box and an ash and stub-filled plate sit atop the table, holding down loose papers and maps.

"Good morning, Father. Were you able to interpret the map?"

"Of course, my dear! Come! I have something for you."

We approach the table and see the "Looking Glass" map still open on the surface but there is a semi-transparent, onionskin sketch spread out on top of it.

"I have made a sketch of the map, both mirrored and inverted. I have transferred all of the details on the original to this sketch and translated the Latin text. As you can see, it is the Windward Island chain. However, this small island to the east is highlighted. It's just a rock, really, but the natives called it "Lafin Lemond" which roughly translates to "The End of the World". Apparently, this was as far west as the islanders would venture, believing there was nothing else but endless ocean beyond."