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The Ruined Abbe	By : pip Category: M through R > Quills Views: 2537 -:- 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
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Chapter Five
There was nothing for a moment, just unspoken thoughts between them until, with a decisive nod, Coulmier let his hands fall to the first of the buttons on his robe.
"Fine," he said bitterly, wishing he could feel resigned to this, tired of having to make the choice of going through with this stupidity from moment to moment. Is this why he truly came here? Had he betrayed himself so far as to be a part of the Marquis' depravity? Apparently so, yet what choice was there, really? As Sade said, the sin had been committed so many times in thought. What did it matter if he meant the thought or not? It was in his dreams. And that had everything to do with him, and nothing to do with Sade. The Marquis wasn't there to torment him when he lay down to sleep.
Something had to change. The present state of affairs could not continue. The only reason he was prepared to face this and go through with it was the hope of it changing something in the present status quo of his existence, something that would allow him to move on.
Struggling with his musings, he was startled when Sade placed a hand over his to stop him undoing the buttons. "That won't be necessary," he said, and Coulmier shrugged. Guide me then, he thought, suddenly wanting it all over and done with – the worst thing – so that he could put a full stop on this darkness. Perhaps then he could get on with making amends and seeing what he could pull from the remnants of his faith and reason. While he might never serve God again, he might at least be able to live a life without insulting His creation.
In some ways, hearing Sade say it would be painful and without much chance of pleasure made him feel better about it. Coulmier wasn't frightened of pain at all. He was frightened of enjoying the pain, as Sade seemed to want. Coulmier was quite aware of the facts: he knew Sade was initially committed here in order to avoid a death sentence, and that first period had made it easier to commit him again later. Coulmier knew that he wasn't like the other inmates at Charenton, which is why he had been allowed so much freedom before. But, there was madness in him, and it was that tendency towards sexual violence and deviance.
So lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed as Sade led him to the chains hanging from the wall and secured his wrists in them. He made a sound of protest, but the Marquis spoke over him before he could fashion it into words.
"For your sake, Abbé, not mine," he announced, sounding so matter of fact about it that Coulmier believed him. What did he really know about any of this? Oh, he knew in theory. He wasn't ignorant or naïve, just terribly inexperienced.
"This too," said Sade, "open your mouth." Because it was already too late to refuse, he obeyed, and almost spat out the iron cylindrical key that was for the manacles on his wrists. He looked at Sade, who narrowed his eyes.
"I wouldn't want your screams to bring the orderlies running," he noted, "would you?" Quickly, Coulmier shook his head. Fine. So be it. He gripped the iron with his teeth as if he would bite down on his fear.
Too slowly, he faced forward as Sade walked around to the back of him. He tried to swallow, and felt a little drool escaping the corner of his mouth. Behind the iron gag he made a muffled sound. Sade ignored him.
"Bend forward at the hips," he instructed, his voice deep with some kind of terrible lust, and Coulmier closed his eyes in shame and horror at what he was doing, but there was no going back now. He rather suspected that by this point, secured as he was, it would happen regardless of whether he gave his consent or not.
"Further," Sade demanded, and simply pulled his hips back so that he found himself with his palms flat against the cool stone wall to keep his balance, his body at a right angle. He made a sound of fright when Sade kicked his legs apart, fearing he would lose his balance fully and fall with his weight on the chains. But he remained in the prescribed position.
"Now," Sade murmured, as if he was missing something. "Did you bring me what I asked for?" For a few seconds Coulmier was mystified, then made a strangled sound as he tried to speak through the thick iron. The lubricant! He was relieved when Sade came back to remove it long enough for him to reply.
"No," he said. Sade replaced the makeshift gag and shrugged, before resuming his place.
"The worse for you," he said carelessly. "Remember, next time."
There would be no next time, of that Coulmier was certain. To put himself through this would assuage the unwilling curiosity in his dreams, and make them his own again. The crueller the better. It should be something he would not want to repeat, even in the darkest corners of his mind. Except that what Sade did next made him forget every preconception he had.
There was no time at all to be ready, but too much of it all the same. His robe was pushed up and draped over his body so that he remembered he still wore the uniform of his trade, and that in itself was shocking. He should at the very least have insisted on removing them – somehow it made this ultimate betrayal of God all the worse. The more finely woven underwear he wore was torn apart, the sound shocking and suggestive in the silence.
And then, oh, then, Sade hooked hands around his pelvis, his thumbs spreading his arse cheeks apart, and there weren't words for the panic that bloomed in his heart. He tried to move, but Sade held him in such a way it was impossible, and he was aware of himself making muffled noises of protest already behind the iron in his mouth. Desperately he held onto it with his teeth, while spittle dribbled down his chin.
Now, then, it must be now, and he felt his entire lower body tensing up in expectation of pain, but there was none. That part of his body was terribly exposed, open to the cool air of the cell, and it made him feel vulnerable in a way that the chains and the humiliation and the enforced position didn't. But then, instead of cool air, there was warmth.
It took a moment or two for Coulmier to realise it was the Marquis' breath he could feel. He fell quiet in shock, still feeling like a coiled spring as the sensation of breath got closer until – he felt the kiss like he had felt no other in his life before. It penetrated him far more deeply than any sexual act ever could, and behind the metal bit he tried to protest, tried to say no, to tell Sade to stop, but what he heard was an awful kind of quiet, keening wail.
After the kiss came the tongue, and Coulmier could only close his eyes, because it was perfect. It was beautiful and terrible all at the same time, because it was forbidden. Again he tried to say stop, but succeeded only in a broken sob. This was cruelty. It was something he hadn't the experience or knowledge to even dream of, and he knew that was why Sade did it.
It was exquisite torture that seemed to last for an eternity, and yet it didn't feel sexual. Only personal and intimate, until it seemed that everything he was resided in that small place on his body. And when he reached that place of understanding, it was over.
He barely registered Sade massaging his buttocks, kneading them with his knuckles so it was painful, certain to leave bruises.
"Relax, Abbé," he advised, "or it will be worse. Remember who I am. This is me, your old friend, not a stranger."
But this was a stranger. Never had he thought the fruits of lust would be so wondrous. Tempting, yes, and pleasurable for certain, but until now it had been merely a template in his mind, a place from which he lectured others. The experience was so far removed from his imagining that he felt he had been stumbling around in the world as a blind man, convinced he could see. And Sade, he had known all along. He had seen it, and Coulmier was suddenly awfully ashamed to have been so arrogant. How the Marquis must have laughed at his ignorance!
Now he felt something different, something hot and huge pressed at that secret place, and the knowledge of what it was made him gag suddenly in protest, but there was to be no holding back. Sade entered him deeply, with dreadful, powerful intent that he couldn't brook. Behind the iron in his mouth, he screamed, and it made him grateful Sade had thought to silence him somewhat.
The pain was the precise opposite of the pleasure he had been given, burning, white-hot and brutal. This pain couldn't exist without true, lasting harm being done to him, and he shuddered and tried to move forward, only for Sade to grab his hips and force him back to take it again, and again.
When he realised the violation was inescapable, that it was to be endured regardless of his wishes, and that the pain was what he had wanted from this in the beginning, Coulmier finally relaxed, and in doing so, experienced something else that was new. Somehow, the pain was less, and instead of a scream stoppered behind the iron, it was a moan. Behind him, he vaguely registered Sade's laughter.
The resistance ceased, instead replaced by acceptance, even welcome, as his body adjusted to the new sensation. What was that? He tried to find the centre of it as he felt Sade's considerable erection filling him up, moving powerfully in and out of him. He wanted more of it, more of him, deeper, pressing, again.
Sade voiced a deep, rumbling groan of pleasure. "Your arse is worth a decade in the desert," he averred. "Or a good few years in an asylum." He rounded off his words with a series of sharp movements that made Coulmier breathless and unsteady on his feet. "You feel so beautiful. If I could fuck you like this, forever, I would." He felt that he would burst with shame and pleasure, but then it wasn't him, it was Sade, reaching completion inside him, so that all was heat and slippery wetness.
After it was over, Sade took the key from his mouth and unlocked one of the restraints, helping him up. Everything about his lower body felt wrong somehow. Empty and too loose, as if he didn't fit together the same way anymore, but there was no real pain, so perhaps he hadn't been harmed after all. He drew in a ragged breath, unable to make eye contact, fully expecting Sade to free his other arm and let him go, but then the Marquis threw the key to the other side of the cell, far away, and smiled as he undid the buttons on the front of Coulmier's robe, exposing the front of his body to view.
"I'll retrieve the key, of course," Sade said, and looked into his eyes with that same maddening, satisfied smile on his face. "When you've done what you need to do."
"What I need…?" Coulmier echoed, bewildered, still deeply shocked by what had transpired, and having been made to face the many misconceptions he'd carried around with him for so long. And he also knew that this had been the worst mistake of his life. There was no going back now to before. He thought he had made the decision when he came here, but he hadn't. Now he had made it. How could he ever again, in conscience, serve God in any capacity at all, even as a believer?
He gasped when Sade groped at his soft member, manipulating it with the same dexterity as before, so that within a handful of seconds his interest was roused. Then he stopped. "I showed you something," Sade remarked, "now you show me. You have a free hand, as it were." He smirked, and then sat down on the cell floor a few feet away and waved an imperious arm, clearly ready to be entertained.
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The Ruined Abbe