Joan of Snar

"Joanie, what is taking you so long? I need to use the bathroom!" Joan's mother shouted through the locked door.

"Just a second!" Joan hollered back irritably. She gritted her teeth as she attempted to extract the last part of the rosary from her rear.

"What are you doing in there?"

"Nothing!" Joan shouted. She needed to relax. If all of her muscles remained tensed up, she would never extract the last few beads from her bottom.

"If you're doing 'nothing,' then why is it taking too long?"

"Jesus Mom, just give me a sec!" Joan took a deep breath and then let out a slow exhale. She tried her best not to clench. With a gentle tug, the last of the rosary beads popped out from her sphincter. Joan let out a sigh of relief.

She quickly washed the rosary under the faucet with warm soapy water. Grabbing a few tissues out of the box on the counter, she wrapped up the grey and silver beads. She then stuffed them into the pocket on the side of her skirt and washed her hands. After drying them on a small towel, she unlocked the bathroom door and swung it open.

"What took you so long? Joanie, my bladder's about to burst!"

"Lady's problems," Joan replied vaguely.

"Well, get out! I need to go!" Her mother urgently stepped past her as Joan exited the bathroom. The older woman shut the door and Joan made her way to her room.

She softly closed her bedroom door, turned on her bedside lamp and walked over to her dresser. She pulled the clump of tissues out of her pocket. She felt the hard round beads buried within the white kleenex. The rosary, she thought to herself. The rosary, which Father Ben had shoved up her ass. What should she do with it?

Joan's first instinct was to throw it in the garbage. After all, she was not religious. The rosary did not mean anything to her. It was just a thing. An object. Only a devout Catholic would be offended at the thought of tossing a rosary into the trash. And considering what Father Ben had done with it, she wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Thinking about the various acts that the priest had performed on her made Joan feel a mix of confusing emotions: shock, anger, humiliation, fear, betrayal, arousal ...

Arousal? Joan stopped breathing for just a moment. Her eyes widened as she stared down at the object covered in tissues, which was resting in her palm. She felt a slight but noticeable stirring below her waist. Between her legs there was an undeniable tingling.

Was she really turned on by what Father Ben had done? No, she thought to herself. She must be mistaken. She was probably confused by all of the troubling things she had experienced that evening. Surely, Joan could not possibly be turned on being spanked. She was not the type of girl who enjoyed having things shoved into her ass. She was definitely not sexually excited by the priest's lascivious behavior, she told herself.

Joan walked over to the waste paper basket next to her desk. It was just a thing, she told herself. It doesn't have any special meaning. She decided to keep the rosary wrapped up in the kleenex. Sometimes her mother would come into Joan's bedroom unannounced to empty the trash bin on the evening before garbage day. Joan knew her mother would have an absolute conniption fit if she saw that her daughter had thrown a rosary into trash. Making sure that it was wrapped up extra tight, Joan tossed the string of beads into her waste paper basket.

She knew that there was no reason to feel bad about what she was doing. But she still could not help but experience a twinge of guilt as she heard the dull thud of the rosary hitting the bottom of the bin. It's just a thing, she reminded herself. But somehow, probably due to her strict Catholic upbringing, she could not shake the feeling that she had done something wrong.

She sat down at her desk, switched on her desk lamp and opened up her biology text book. She flipped through the pages until she found the chapter about the rabies virus.

But try as she might, she simply could not focus on the reading assignment. Her mind kept drifting back to what had occurred at the rectory. The way Father Ben had touched her. The way he had spoken to her. The way he had ordered her around. How he had reprimanded her her and teased her. It made Joan feel both furious and excited all at the same time.

It was pointless to try and concentrate on her homework. Maybe she could wake up early the next morning and read the chapter on rabies before she left for school. Joan turned off her desk lamp and walked over to her bed. She set her alarm for half an hour earlier than normal. She then changed into her pajamas and climbed under the covers. She turned off the bedside lamp and and closed her eyes.

But she could not sleep. She kept picturing Father Ben's smug grinning face. She remembered the sound of his voice when he had chastised her. She thought about the way he had forced her to bend over the coffee table. How he had commanded her to pull up her skirt and pull down her panties. As Joan recollected his demeaning instructions, she slowly pulled up her nightgown.

She reminisced about the way the priest's hands had felt on her skin when he groped her. As she thought back to how he had slipped his fingers into her sex, Joan found her own fingers making their way into her womanly passage. Her entrance was warm and wet.

She recalled the way that Father Ben had mercilessly teased her clit. Making sure her own fingers were moist and slick, she brought her fingertips to her sensitive nub. When she thought about how the handsome clergyman had smacked her backside, Joan could not stop herself. When she remembered the painful stinging sensation of being spanked by Father Ben, she frantically began rubbing herself between her legs.

"Oh Father!" Joan moaned. "Oh Father!" She needed to keep her voice down in case her mother heard her. But she could not get the image of the handsome smirking cleric out of her mind.

She thought back to the way he had inserted the rosary into her vagina. What had he said to her? Something about her being a virgin, so her pussy was probably extra tight. She slid her own finger up inside of herself and felt around. She pushed against the snug walls of her flesh.

She went back to rubbing her pulsing little pearl. She could not forget the shock and embarrassment she had felt when he took her across his lap and pushed the rosary into her back hole. She had felt so helpless as he pinned her down against his thighs. She was completely mortified when he shoved the hard grey beads into her backdoor. His behavior had been cruel and abusive. And yet, when Joan recalled his actions, she rubbed herself faster. Her pleasure mounted.

She thought back to when he had ordered her to face the wall and pull up the back of her skirt, exposing her freshly spanked buttocks. He had mocking observed the bright red skin of her cheeks. He had made her remain in that degrading position as he laughed at her expense. He obviously took sadistic pleasure in her discomfort and humiliation. As Joan laid in bed urgently rubbing her womanhood, she arched her back. Her muscles tensed.

"Oh god! Oh jesus! Oh Father!" Joan panted. She thought about the way Father Ben's voice had sounded as he both admonished and taunted her. "Oh Father!" she gasped she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure. Her vaginal muscles began to contract, causing the entrance of her cunt to violently open and close. Her clitoris throbbed. She took heaving ragged breaths as her heart beat in her chest. "Oh Father!"

Panting, Joan tried to catch her breath. As she came down from her climax the sensual sensations between her legs and throughout her body slowly dissipated. As she thought about what she had just done, a deep sense of shame washed over her. She closed her eyes and shuddered. How on earth could she possibly fantasize about such an embarrassing situation? What was wrong with her? This could not possibly be normal.

Joan turned over onto her right side and squeezed her eyes shut. She desperately tried to drive out the image of Father Ben from her mind. But he was all she could think about. Joan groaned in frustration as she turned over and tried to get comfortable on her left side.

As she lay in the darkness, Joan began to hear a quiet rustling noise. What was that, she wondered. Was it coming from outside? It was probably nothing to be concerned about, she told herself. However, the rustling sound grew louder and louder. And it definitely was not outside. It was clearly coming from somewhere inside of her room. Too nervous to sit up, Joan tried her best to look around while remaining still. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere near her desk. Joan glanced over and saw that the waste paper basket next to her desk was rocking back and forth.

Joan froze. What on earth could it possibly be? A mouse maybe? That was most likely what it was. It was probably just a mouse. What should she do? Wake up her mother? No, Joan decided. Her mother had to be up early for work in the morning. It was not fair to wake her up. And besides, Joan was eighteen after all. She was an adult. What kind of a grownup could not deal with a silly little mouse? But still, Joan was not exactly sure how to deal with the situation. She decided that the best course of action would be to cover the trash bin with a wide heavy book. That way, she could take care of it in the morning. Her biology textbook was a weighty tome. That should do the trick, she figured. And it was already out on her desk.

But before Joan could sit up and get out of bed, a head emerged from the garbage can. The head was soon followed by a neck and then a body. However, it was not a mouse that came out of the rubbish bin. It was a snake. It opened its mouth and flicked its forked tongue as it slithered out of the bin and onto the floor.

Joan's mouth dropped open in a silent scream. How in the world did a snake end up in her trash can in her bedroom? As the snake slunk across the floor, it was illuminated by the pale moonlight softly shining in through the window. Its slate colored scales shimmered iridescently. The white stripe in the center of its back ran all the way from the top of its head down to the tip of its tail. As it wriggled away from the desk, it made its way over toward the bed.

Joan reached down and clutched her bed covers, pulling them up to her neck. She was too frightened to move. She was too scared to make a sound. She was afraid to even breath. What kind of snake was it? Was it venomous? Would it bite her if she tried to run? Joan decided to stay put for the time being and not make any sudden movements or loud noises. Besides, the snake could not get up onto the mattress, could it? It would most likely just crawl under the bed to hide or something, Joan silently reasoned.

As the snake continued toward the foot of the bed, Joan lost sight of the reptile on the floor as it approached. It was too low down for her to see from her position. It's probably just going to crawl underneath the bed and that's when I'll made a run for it, Joan thought. She mentally prepared herself for a fast escape. But just when she was getting ready to bolt, she saw the smoky colored head and the flickering tongue make an appearance at the foot of her bed. The snake glided effortlessly over the duvet.

No, Joan thought to herself. No, no NO! The serpent twisted and turned as it began to gradually and steadily crawl toward Joan. She felt the weight of the animal as it slid across her ankle. Joan was covered by her sheet and blanket, of course. But it still made her skin crawl as the animal made it's way up her shin to her knee. There was no way she could get up now without disturbing the snake. And she had no idea how it would react if she tried. She was trapped and shaking with fright.

The reptile lifted its head and jutted out its black tongue as it climbed in a winding motion upwards along Joan's thigh. Her grip on her bed covers was so tight that the muscles in her fingers and palms began to cramp. The snake moved its long slender body against her inner leg, causing Joan to bristle. But she attempted to remain still. It did not take long for the slithering scaled animal to reach the place between Joan's thighs. Moving over the blanket, it firmly pressed itself against Joan's crotch. Joan closed her eyes. "Oh god!" she squeaked.

The snake did not continue to crawl further up Joan's body. However, it did not stop moving either. Instead, it began to oscillate it's lengthy limbless body between Joan's legs. Rhythmically, almost hypnotically, the serpent rubbed itself back and forth over Joan's groin. The two of them were only separated by a few thin layers of fabric. Oh jesus christ, what the hell is it doing, Joan wondered in bewilderment. Did it want her body heat? Joan had to admit that the area between her legs was significantly warmer than the rest of her body. Especially since she had just given herself an orgasm moments ago.

Joan could not believe what was happening. As the snake continued to rub against her, Joan's arousal was returning. But how? There was nothing erotic about this situation, was there? Joan closed her eyes and softly sighed as she tried to prepare herself for the possibility of an unintentional climax. However, the snake suddenly ceased massaging Joan's privates. It instead resumed its menacing climb upwards.

"No," Joan quietly whispered. "Stop!"

But the snake persisted to travel up Joan's body. It slid over her pubic mound, up her lower abdomen and across her belly. It then slithered between her breasts.

Is this how I'm going to die, Joan wondered with terror and dread. Isn't this how Cleopatra died? She committed suicide by letting an asp bite her breast? Joan did not want to commit suicide. She did not want to die.

As the reptile crawled up her chest toward her throat, Joan realized that she could not remain silent and still any longer. She needed to call out for help. She was not exactly sure what her mother would be able to do. But at the very least, her mom could call 911 if Joan got bitten.

Joan unclenched her jaw and parted her lips. She was getting ready to scream like she had never screamed before. However, before she could make a single sound, the snake plunged itself head first right into her wide gaping mouth. Joan tried to cry out, but the sound was muffled as the snake filled her mouth. Its scales were rough and dry against her tongue. It forced its way further in and began crawling down her throat. As it slid against her uvula, it triggered her gag reflex. Joan began to dry heave as tears spilled out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She could not breath.

She grabbed the snake's tail and yanked as hard as she could. But the snake stubbornly continued to slither down her throat. The very tip of the serpent's tail escaped from Joan's grasp as the last bit of the reptile disappeared into Joan's mouth. It traveled down her esophagus making Joan loudly gasped. As it settled in her stomach, she was finally able to breath again.

Joan thought she was going to be sick as she began to experience sharp abdominal pains. Fumbling, she threw off the covers and pulled up her nightgown. She peered down at her belly. As she looked on in horror, she could see that the flesh of her abdomen moving in a disturbing fashion. It was as if she was being poked and prodded at from the inside. Suddenly she was gripped by a crippling pain. As she looked at her tummy, she could almost see the shape of the snake's head pressing against the inner wall of her belly. How could this be happening? How could it still be alive?

Joan needed to get it out of her. She needed to do something to make herself sick. Joan shoved the fingers of her right hand down her throat in an attempt to make herself throw up. She pushed her fingers as far down as they would go. She eventually began to retch and heave. She felt something begin to move up her her esophagus. It was working. She was going to get it out.

However, as the mass ascended from her stomach and approached the very back of her tongue, Joan suddenly opened her eyes and sat up in bed. She panted with fear and exertion. She was perspiring and her heart was racing. She frantically looked around.

She had been having another nightmare. It had all just been a bad dream. A horrible terrible dream. Joan jumped out of bed and turned on her overhead light. She pulled up her nightgown and looked down at her stomach. Her olive skin lay flat over her stomach. She ran over to the mirror above her dresser and opened up her mouth. She squinted as she looked down into her throat. There was nothing there. She then dashed over to the trash bin next to her desk. It was empty except for the wad of tissues containing the rosary.

Joan tried to calm down as she turned off the light and climbed back into bed. It was going to be okay. There was nothing to be afraid of. But she needed to figure out why she had been having so many night terrors recently. This was now the third one in a row. Just as she was laying her head down onto the pillow, she was hit by a sudden wave of nausea. She jumped out of bed and raced to the bathroom.

She quickly flipped up the lid and the seat of the toilet. As her stomach muscles painfully contracted, Joan vomited up a revolting combination of digestive acid, confectionery and alcohol. As the disgusting mixture exited her body via her mouth, Joan was reminded of her supper earlier that evening with Father Ben. They had had chocolates and wine for dinner.

After figuring that her stomach was probably empty, Joan brushed her teeth and returned to bed. Red wine and chocolates - not the healthiest choice for a meal, she silently reflected. But now that she was no longer working at the rectory, candy and booze for supper was one mistake Joan would not be making again.

As she closed her eyes, she tried her best to come up with pleasant thoughts to help her drift off to a peaceful slumber. But she could not ignore the burning in her throat - an obvious result of throwing up. And even though she knew it was illogical, she could not shake the niggling feeling that something was moving around inside of her stomach. Rationally, she knew it was probably just gas or disrupted stomach bile. After all, she had just vomited moments ago. But as her stomach spasmed and twitched, Joan just knew that she was in for a long sleepless night.