Thread: Lead Us Not Into Temptation [kckolbe and Madam Mim]

Bernard closed his eyes as he embraced Moira, very aware of the sensation of her mound against his bulge. He knew that it felt good and that he did not want it to end, but he tried not to focus on it, instead he prayed over her as best as he could while distracted, though he clenched as he considered some of his hasty phrasing. It wasn't until she responded, her words as charged as his own, that Bernard have suffered the first real weakness he'd realized, clenching her more firmly and grinding his bulge against her center. Don't try to flee. I know it hurts, he said, feeling he needed to justify the increased pressure. Letting go had been difficult, but having stalled for words and having been too cloudy to think of more that added to it...he awkwardly added an Amen to the end, which she had regretfully repeated as well. He reluctantly relaxed his grip, standing close and maintaining some contact as she stepped down. There was a small amount of moisture on the front of his robes. As Bernard tried to decide whether it was better for him to visit or for her, a third choice appeared and was immediately ruled out. Not Bishop Abernathay! he said hurriedly. Forgive me, child. The bishop is a good man, but his health has not been well. I would not wish to trouble him with such things as his strength may not be sufficient for. He took a breath, centering himself somewhat and continued. I think it would be best if I were to call on you. I've asked much of you so far, and I fear further treatment may be even more demanding- What do I mean by that? -and I do not wish upon you the added burden of travel. He caught her as she launched herself at him, pulling her into a tight, though less sensual, embrace. I shall do whatever I can for you, my child. You have my word. And yes, I shall visit you tomorrow. He smiled back sadly. Once she was gone, Bernard took out pen and paper and began writing a cardinal a few days ride away. He wrote describing each of the wounds on Moira's body, including the sketches he had made of each, all the relevant information her family had given him, and how she'd actively avoided physical contact while possessed and still seemed nervous when he had to touch her. He mentioned the annointing oil, holy water and crucifix, but left out some of the finer details as to how such treatments were administered. He mentioned the salve he had yet to apply to the burn as well, but only as a consideration. He sealed the letter and handed it off to a courier. He knew he would not hear back soon, but he had to reach out to someone knowledgeable. For some reason, though, he'd neglected to write other, closer authorities for advice. After checking that everything was put away, he went home. Once in bed, he couldn't shake the images of Moira from his mind, and while many involved what he'd previously seen of her, he also found himself imagining her breasts, and taking scenes from their earlier treatment and reconstructing them to make them more sexually charged. He imagined the scars on her inner thighs going closer to her center, the small bite marks on her breasts needing to be treated as well. He imagined himself inside her, something he'd yet to experience with any woman. Despite not being aware of when he'd started touching himself, he soon came. Still unable to sleep, though now due to guilt more than overactive imagination, he prayed for both forgiveness and a sign as to whether or not he was doing the right thing. Bernard hadn't slept long that night, nor very well, visited by multiple dreams involving demons. Bringing the holy water, salve, and oil in a small bag, he rode back to the house where he'd first met Moira, possibly more nervous than the first time. He knocked loudly, awaiting what he expected would be a difficult conversation with Mrs. Canton.