This story talks about sex and religion. There will be some rough sex and elements of BDSM, so if you are looking for romance, this is not the story for you. Also, if you harbor any thoughts about the sanctity of religion, then please move along because I will surely offend you. Otherwise, I present to you Chapter 4 of A Priestess of Isis.
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Our story so far: Divinity student Wil Goodwin has done everything his minister father expects of him, including preparing for a career in the ministry. He doesn't question his path. One night he meets a seductress, Mary, who demonstrates the Christian idea of submission by performing a blow job on a stranger, who then gives her money. After she gives Wil a blow job in an alley, she shares the money with Wil, which stirs his feelings of shame. In class the next day, Wil says something disrespectful about Jesus that Mary said, which sends him tumbling out of class, wondering what was wrong with him. When he goes to the professor's office to apologize, he finds the professor in a compromising position with Mary. Disgusted with his professor, Wil tries unsuccessfully to drop the class. Later Professor Humbolt offers him another assignment instead of attending class. The assignment was impossibly huge, but Wil was confident he could pull it off even though he was told that each student that attempted it failed. Mary waited for him at the library entrance and offered to buy dinner. She takes him to a pizza restaurant and introduces him to David, a man who was once a divinity student but found, through Mary, the meaning of living with passion. For David making pizzas is his passion. Mary gives Wil a rim job, then jacks him off in the bathroom of the pizza place. But instead of returning him to his apartment, she takes him to a mansion at the edge of the town. There she tells Will a story about her time with Herod Antipas, which Wil dismisses as fiction. Mary then seduces him, then stops in the middle of the act. Wil mysteriously finds himself tied up, and she performs fellatio on him.
What will it profit a man if he gains the entire world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? Matthew 16:26
I woke shivering. A dull gray light seeped into the room from the shuttered windows. My cheek lay on cold marble, and the room was freezing.
Moving my sore and aching body into an upright position was a study in pain. What happened last night? Slowly, the memories of Mary tying my arms together, mocking me, then sucking my dick came back to me. I was embarrassed and ashamed at the things she said to me, and then, what? When she put my dick in her mouth, everything centered on the one unholy organ, and nothing else mattered. The intense orgasm she gave shattered me, and I fell to my knees on the oriental carpet.
I scrubbed my hands against my morning stubble and realized no carpet lay underneath me. Gone were the drapes or couches on either side. The room was empty, with dust and neglect of years. I stood shakily and glanced around. One part of my brain recognized the room I spent the lust-filled night, but the other couldn't believe that this was the place.
"Mary," I called out. But my call rang around the empty room, mocking me with hollow echoes.
"Mary!"
Nothing.
Christ! I had no idea where I was. I paid little attention to the car ride last night. We drove from the school, which I should be at right now, according to the rising sun. It dawned on me then that Mary abandoned me here.
My anger rising, I moved to the closed double doors of the room's entrance and pushed them as they creaked open. The atrium was just as barren as the room I had left. Gone was the center table decorated with the tasteful vase of flowers and the letters that sat next to it. The front door was open, allowing dried leaves and the chill of autumn to spill into it.
Curiously, my jacket was crumpled by the door, and I retrieved it to cover my naked chest. I remembered then that Mary tore my shirt to shreds when she pulled it off me. The jacket was cold to the touch but warmer than standing here in this huge empty hallway without something covering my chest.
I shivered. Where the hell was I? Plaster was missing in chunks on the walls. The railing of the long stairway to the second floor was broken, hanging off in irregular pieces. The stairs didn't look safe to climb.
There was no sense in staying here. I turned toward the door, and then something caught my eye. The stiff corner of an envelope was wedged under the baseboard in the right-hand wall by the door. I bent and tugged at it, struggling to yank the thing from its hiding place in the baseboard. As it flew free, I fell backward and landed on my backside. I looked over the envelope in wonder because it looked like the letter Mary had picked up, then discarded on the entryway table last night.
The paper was yellow with age, and the ink faded, but I made out the return address on the back, H. Humbolt, Yale Divinity School, New Haven, CT. The envelope's address was: Mary, Humbolt Estate, Sudbury, Ohio. The postmark was equally faded and reported an improbable date of 1977.
Curious, I pulled at the back flap, which because of its age, pulled away easily from the back, and drew out the single sheet of notepaper.
Dearest Mary,
I know I've placed you in an impossible position by sending you to stay with my parents while I untangle the mess here at school. Forgive me, but it shouldn't be long. I should be here another couple of weeks for the disciplinary hearing, and then, because the outcome is inevitable, I should be home shortly after, and we can get on with our lives. Trust me. I do not blame you at all. Things are as they are, and I'm forever grateful for how you've opened my eyes to the lies that run rampant throughout our world. Yes, I know my parents don't understand. They will most likely disown me. But I don't care. You've taught me that the universe provides, and in this and you, I trust.
All my love,
H-
My blood ran cold, and my ears roared with a constant ringing.
The universe provides?
Mary's signature phrase? Humbolt wrote this letter to Mary forty years ago, yet there was no way Mary was more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight. She couldn't be over sixty. No freaking way.
My fingers were turning blue from the cold, and my teeth chattered. I flung open the door only to be greeted by an icy winter blast. Snow lay on the ground as far as I could see.
A winter storm this time of the fall was nearly impossible, but other things in my life have been weirder. Shivering, I stepped out in the winter landscape and trudged to the road clutching my blazer to my shirtless chest. The walkway was not clear, and I stepped in snow that rose past my ankles. I could only hope a car would drive by and pick me up to take me to town because I couldn't walk that far in the weather and my state of dress.
As I stepped out on the plowed road and a car barreled down the road. It stopped fifty feet ahead of me, and I ran, feet slipping on the ice as I ran toward refuge. At this point, I didn't care if an axe murderer drove the car. I needed to get out of the cold.
The driver was a chatty elderly man, Eddie, who happily obliged my request to drop me off at my campus apartment.
When I got out, I mumbled about not having money to give him.
"Just pay it forward, son," he said. "And good luck to you."
"Thanks," I mumbled in humiliation since I must have looked like a demented homeless person. No wonder he wished me luck.
I climbed the stairs to my third-floor apartment to find the door locked. My keys, curiously, were missing from my pocket. I pounded on the door, but there was no answer.
Jerking my cell phone from my pocket, I discovered the battery was dead. Wonderful. Then I heard the front door downstairs open and shut and the familiar sounds of my roommate's steps on the stairs. Only that wasn't possible. The last I saw him, Orson's leg was in a cast, and he shouldn't be trying to walk.
"Wil? Oh my God, Wil!"
Orson ran up the steps and stared into my face while grabbing my shoulders.
"Where have you been?"
"I," I started as my words came out of cracked lips, "I don't know."
"Don't know? My God, Wil? What happened?"
"Can we get inside? It's fucking freezing here." I shivered involuntarily, punctuating my point.
"God, yes." Orson keyed open the door and swept me inside. The warmth of the apartment hit me like a blast furnace which brought another round of shudders. Orson disappeared into his room and returned with a comforter, which he threw around my shoulders. Then he was on his phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling the paramedics."
