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The Ruined Abbe	By : pip Category: M through R > Quills Views: 2536 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Quills, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Author’s Note: A little bit more, because there was nothing graphic in the last chapter. Comments/concrit welcomed and encouraged. Is anyone reading this?
Warning: Spanking.

Chapter Thirteen
To his surprise, Sade stood up and clapped his hands once in decisive delight. He turned his head again, and peered through the near-darkness, only for that darkness to be dispelled as Sade wandered around the cell, lighting candles here and there.
When the cell was flickering with candlelight, Sade returned to the bed, and Coulmier tensed in a kind of terror, wondering what degradation the Marquis would insist upon first, but he made no sound. Indignities crowded his mind, each one worse than the last, and each was something Sade was capable of. Coulmier was quite certain of that. He had read some parts of Justine after all, in sheer shocked and morbid curiosity. He’d also heard the stories of the Marquis’ earlier life. Not much was beyond him if they were true.
So he trembled, and his mind whirled as Sade touched him the same way as before, one hand on his buttocks, while the other rested on the small of his back. The weight of his touch and the warmth of his fingers were pleasant, even so, and Coulmier buried his face in the sheet, holding his breath.
The hand on his arse lifted away, and then returned with an audible slap in the silence. It was stinging and heavy, and it made Coulmier gasp in shock. There wasn’t time to react before the hand was falling again, hard and loud, in a punishment that made his face burn with shame and embarrassment, though if this were what the Marquis had planned; it was so much easier to bear than what he had imagined that Coulmier couldn’t help feeling a kind of relief.
The first ten or so of these slaps were painful, because Sade really put effort into them, but they were bearable. The trouble is, they didn’t stop, and that hand began to fall onto skin that was rapidly becoming sore and slightly bruised. He felt himself wriggle instinctively underneath the hail of blows, but there was no escape.
When a particularly harsh slap landed on sensitive skin, Coulmier hissed unwillingly, and the Marquis stopped. Without the prolonged punishment, his skin began to burn and he fidgeted again, wanting some kind of relief. Just to move. He twisted his head to the side as Sade stood up, and then watched him in silence as he removed the white frock coat and rolled up the sleeves that flowed long and loose from beneath his embellished waistcoat. Sade looked back at him as he removed his cravat, leaving his abandoned clothes to fall in a heap on the floor.
The Marquis bestowed a superior smile upon him. “How does it feel so far?” he asked pleasantly as he walked back to the bed. Coulmier drew in a breath that was deeper than he meant it to be.
“Hot,” he replied, and then hid his face to avoid seeing Sade laugh at him.
“Really, already?” he asked in surprised amusement as he sat on the side of the bed again. “But I’ve barely begun,” he noted. “Now, I am comfortable enough to work on you properly.”
Coulmier’s only response to that was a groan that came from the bottom of his feet up, and yet their conversation was having another more mortifying effect. He moved on the bed to try and deny the arousal his humiliation produced in him, and only succeeded in rubbing himself against the sheets. At least Sade couldn’t see it, he reasoned.
That same heavy hand rested on him again, squeezing his cheeks so it hurt, and against his will, he heard himself moan.
“My, my! Dare I ask? Are you finding this exciting?” he asked, and Coulmier shook his head in desperate denial. “It’s all right if you are. Many do. Your body’s reactions are quite natural, I assure you.”
Unwilling to be comforted, Coulmier swallowed, and then said indignantly: “Continue, if that is what you mean to do.”
Sade laughed. “Bad tempered, Abbé!” he exclaimed, teasing. “Don’t think that asking for more will make it any easier. It won’t.”
Nevertheless he did continue, and he was also right. Coulmier soon found the pain a perfect counterpoint to the sensation of his erection rubbing against the bed, and the strangest noises were torn from his throat. Not pain, not pleasure, but a strange mixture of the two. The pain became secondary to the constant rhythm set by the Marquis’ hand, as though they were participating in some slowly building crescendo. He moaned even as his face became wet with tears, and he cried out in pain even as his body moved to meet the next fall of Sade’s hand, as if in some kind of infernal encouragement.
When he finally did stop, Coulmier began to truly fight against the cloth knots that kept him bound to the bed. The pain was a burning fire, without relief, and he whimpered at the strength of it, though he knew he wasn’t truly injured, only very sore and bruised.
“Tell me,” Sade murmured, his fingers brushing over that burning skin so that Coulmier hissed again, as he had at the beginning, but it was so much worse now. “And, if you give me the right answer, I’ll reward you. How does it hurt? Describe it to me.”
Feeling like a party to his own torture, Coulmier replied helplessly. “It burns, like fire.” He groaned and writhed as he felt the Marquis’ fingernails digging in. “It seethes,” he said, twisting his head this way and that, his eyes squeezed tightly closed.
Suddenly it wasn’t fingers touching him there, but a tongue as Sade leaned down over him, licking sinfully at that skin he had punished so thoroughly. Coulmier made a sound of protest that died when a short second later he felt cool breath blown over that same part of his body.
“Ahh…” he said, unable to voice anything more eloquent, and his erection which had died down was hardening beneath him again, making him move so suggestively that he heard Sade chuckle. But the coolness didn’t last, and soon he was twisting helplessly again like a pained animal.
Almost out of his mind, he was only vaguely aware that Sade had left the bed and was searching through the drawers in his desk. What for Coulmier didn’t know, and didn’t have the presence of mind think about, until he felt the leather tail of the whip touch his back.
It was just a touch, yet he stilled beneath it instantly in fear and dread.
“Ready for the next part?” Sade asked, as if in genuine concern.
“No,” he replied honestly, still in pain, instantly remembering how proficient the Marquis had been with the whip before, when he had asked for it, and when he had dreamed of it.
“Good. Then let’s begin.”
“Marquis?” he said quickly, before the whip could fall, his voice quiet somewhat subdued. He tried to look around, but since Sade was stood at the foot of the bed, he couldn’t quite see.
“I’m here,” Sade said, as if to confirm it.
“What I said before. I was wrong,” he said carefully. “You can hurt me.” It sounded eerily as though he were permitting it, and that troubled him more than the acts themselves. And, it wasn’t as if permission was something Sade sought in him.
“And I will,” he averred. “More deeply than you can even imagine.”
Troubled, not entirely aware of what he was about to say, only that he had to express it, he said: “I want something.”
“Name it.”
Coulmier was quiet for a moment, remembering what Sade had threatened. “If you… Should you poison everything I hold sacred, as you say…”
“Yes?” There was a kind of terrible loneliness in him at the thought of losing everything, of being cut off from it all, everything he valued, everything he had ever loved.
“Don’t leave me alone?” he said, making it into a plea, and from behind him he heard the Marquis groan.
“I swear if you carry on like this, I’m going to spill my seed all over you, and then this whip of yours will hurt all the more.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, and then: “I just…” He couldn’t bear to finish the thought, knowing it was being received in such a way. That somehow Sade was enjoying his anguish again.
“Abbé de Coulmier. I promise your torment will be endless, bestowed exclusively by my hand every time you close your eyes to rest. Is that what you want to hear?” And somehow it was. Somehow it was comforting to hear it said.
“Yes.”
“Then there is nothing more to say.”
“No. No more.”
The whip fell viciously, making him cry out in shock. “Soon,” Sade said, his voice dark again. “You’ll say ‘no more’ as if you mean it.”
He went to work, and perhaps it wasn’t so soon, but Coulmier did eventually beg for the new punishment to stop. It was some time after that when Sade finally laid down the whip.
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- 14
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The Ruined Abbe