Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Author’s Note: Ok, a few things to say…
One: Apologies for the long wait. I hope you’ll enjoy this next bit.
Two: I’m really not sure about this chapter. It’s taken a long time to write, even with taking time to do the essay, and it’s taken a turn that I didn’t expect which has made me remap the rest of the story and dialogue. Then again, the original couple of thousand words that were supposed to be this chapter were beginning to feel terribly formulaic, and it made me wonder if, having written this theme before, I really had anything new to add to it.
Three: On the use of ‘hair-trigger.’ That’s difficult. The etymology of the word shows it wasn’t in use until the mid-nineteenth century when, unsurprisingly, the actual literal hair-trigger was invented. I searched around for alternatives and came up with ‘powder keg’ thinking that must have an earlier origin, but it didn’t. It’s likely that even if I could find an authentic eighteenth century equivalent, it would no longer make the slightest bit of sense to a contemporary audience, so I hope you’ll forgive me for leaving that turn of phrase in.
Four: Comment and constructive criticism are, as always, welcome.

Chapter Nine
Nearly an hour later, the Marquis sighed and congratulated himself. He hadn’t been sure he could do this, after so long without practice, but here was the evidence. Coulmier had lasted, did still last, because he, the Marquis, wished it. He stood back and deliberately viewed Coulmier from every possible angle. His attitude was one of complete surrender. His head lolled on his chest, the sides of his feet trailed on the floor, and his eyes, which at the beginning had glowered venomously, and then, eventually, begged silently, had closed. His erection stood proud of his body. It pointed upwards, while the rest of the man pointed down.
The defeated posture was unsurprising really, since the Marquis had no doubt this experience had long ago ceased to be pleasurable to him. In all likelihood, Coulmier was in a great deal of pain. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his skin clammy, his hair plastered to his head with sweat. His eyes were closed, but busy nevertheless. It looked for all the world like a serious fever – but it wasn’t.
It was no simple matter, to keep a man balanced on the very edge of orgasm, especially not one given to long years of self-denial. Coulmier was a hair-trigger, and the Marquis was justifiably proud of the accomplishment. Gently, he undid the gag and removed it, then kissed Coulmier briefly on the lips. Wherever Coulmier was in his head, it wasn’t pleasant. With the gag gone, he whispered a strange nonsense mixture of French and Latin, begging endlessly for forgiveness, absolution, release and penance.
Lingering over this was a luxury he couldn’t allow himself, which was a shame. Oh, there were reasons. Chief among them was that while by his calculation there was still a good deal of time before anyone came to look into his cell, there were a couple of other things to be done before this little tête-à-tête was over, one of them being his own satisfaction.
“If only I was a painter, instead of a writer. But I’ll remember this vision, dear Coulmier, I swear it.”
Perhaps he had heard his name spoken, because Coulmier opened his eyes long enough to stare at Sade. He began to mouth something over and over, silently, so that the Marquis leaned in close to catch what he said.
“Finish it,” he said, pleading, and then again, and then a change. “Finish me…” Likely he had no idea of what he said, or how he had said it, but the changed request stirred such a feeling of dark lust in Sade that he spent a long minute just savouring it, resting his forehead against Coulmier’s. Oh, I’ll finish you, he thought clearly.
“Take your weight, then,” Sade said at last, moving back, his hands on Coulmier’s waist to lift him slightly so he could oblige. It wouldn’t do to have him pull his arms out of their sockets. Coulmier was now his only toy, and as such he was quite precious.
“Don’t fall,” he advised as he set to work on freeing Coulmier from the restraints, moving quickly. When it was done, and the manacles swung empty against the wall, he stepped back. Coulmier clung to him, his hands grasping for purchase on the robe. So slowly it was like a dream, Sade experienced the gratifying sensation of Coulmier sliding down his body while pressed to him. In the end, Coulmier was on his knees, face pressed into the robe in just the right place so the Marquis felt Coulmier’s warm breath radiating through the material. De Sade breathed in and wished he could prolong it, but he really couldn’t.
Without fuss, and without emotion, Sade extricated himself and moved away, leaving him alone. The palms of Coulmier’s hands made an evocative slapping sound on the stone as he fell to his hands and knees. Quickly, Sade walked around him to the back and knelt, knowing he was about to add bruises to his knees. What were those to all the others he had gained from sleeping on the hard floor in here? Only brethren. The thought drew a twisted, malicious smile to his lips.
Leaning over to embrace Coulmier, one hand went to his solid erection, while the other closed around his mouth, silencing him. This wouldn’t take long. He pulled Coulmier to a similar kneeling position, and did the job of ‘finishing’ him, while Coulmier tried ineffectually to get the hand away from his mouth.
Behind that hand, Coulmier made muffled noises. Sade didn’t stop. The period of denial had made Coulmier weak and helpless, and then, after less than a minute, it made him as insane as any of the wards at Charenton.
As his prick jerked in the Marquis’ hand, so did Coulmier’s entire body. The culmination of his passion was all the more intense for its delay. Instead of trying to get free, Coulmier’s hands reached out to the empty air in front of him, blindly, seeking something solid to hold. Sade watched over Coulmier’s shoulder as his prick spurted string after string of whiteness, every upward movement of his hand causing a mini-eruption, every down movement a dribble that spilled over onto his fingers.
When at last there was nothing left to get out of him, the Marquis stilled his hand and simply held him for a few seconds, before letting his prick go and wiping off his hand on Coulmier’s bare stomach.
The man’s body had been twitching about, but now Coulmier was hot and heavy in his arms, like a sleeping pet. He’d gone quiet, so he moved his hand from Coulmier’s mouth and then lowered him back to his hands and knees as if he was merely adjusting a mannequin.
Coulmier’s breathing was loud in the cell, almost a moan. When he guided Coulmier to rest on his hands and knees as before, it seemed Coulmier could no longer take his own weight, and his hands simply gave up, leaving the top half of his body flat to the floor, while the lower half remained pressed invitingly against de Sade.
Sade didn’t waste time, and moved the black material of the robe out of their way impatiently. The peculiar spasms that racked Coulmier’s body hadn’t left him unaffected, and he entered the relaxed and submissive Coulmier as soon as he could, glad that enough of the oil remained to ease the way.
At first, there was silence but for the sounds of the penetration, and Coulmier’s breathing. The Marquis enjoyed all of those provocative little noises urging him on until Coulmier moaned, long and low, evidently having come back to himself a little.
Sade stilled, though it cost him a lot, and leaned forward to whisper so as not to destroy the intimate hush that had fallen. He looked past Coulmier to the door, and knew Coulmier must see it too because they were facing it. “Be quiet or I’ll call for the guards myself. Let them all see you being fucked to oblivion like this.” The moan continued, only a touch more quietly. Sade narrowed his eyes. “Including Madeleine.”
Now there was silence. Not even the breathing. “You wouldn’t…” Coulmier said, his voice husky with pleasure and pain.
“How do you know what I would, or wouldn’t, do?” Sade sneered at the thought and decided to teach Coulmier something else, something new. “Did you really presume after our first intimate encounter that you actually knew anything about me at all? Did you ever really read my work, Coulmier, or just assume what it contained by the reactions of others?”
“I read it.” No one who heard that admission could say it sounded convincing. Still unmoving, Sade enjoyed the way Coulmier’s body contracted around him as they spoke.
“So did it never occur to you the cruelties I might be capable of if you put yourself at my mercy?”
“I…” Real fear now, and Sade was sure Coulmier was enjoying every second of it.
“Of course it occurred to you, but you came to me anyway and invited me to use you, let me abuse you. You even brought me the means by which do it.” He paused, so that it sank in. “Now, you can take that bit of self-knowledge and assimilate it any way you see fit. But please shut up.”
Now he began again, and as before Coulmier was silent except for his breathing, though his hands screwed themselves into fists as if he was controlling himself. The Marquis permitted himself a few satisfied murmurs of praise that he felt Coulmier respond to before it was over for him too, spending deep inside Coulmier’s body.
Afterwards, he pulled away and stood up as Coulmier collapsed completely on the floor as if unconscious. For a moment or two after catching his breath, de Sade luxuriated in the feel of fabric against his skin before reluctantly removing the robe. He missed clothes, and it was sometimes horribly cold in here without them, especially at night.
But it was time to be merciless if his ploy was to work, and he hadn’t spent all of this time on it to fail now. Insistent, he tugged at Coulmier’s arm until the man reluctantly got up from the floor, fairly unsteady on his feet, his eyes clouded as if he were walking in a dream. “Time to go now! Come, get your clothes on,” said Sade briskly, noting Coulmier’s confusion and enjoying it a little. “You can’t be the Abbé with nothing on, can you?” Coulmier shook his head, and the action made him sway a bit, as if he were dizzy. He reached out to Sade to ground himself.
The Marquis helped Coulmier back into his clothes, moving too quickly for the man to keep up so that he was very rushed. “It’s all false. I’m always acting…” Coulmier smoothed out one of his sleeves as if dazed, and then gave de Sade a puzzled and heartfelt look. “It’s as though I were in your theatre.”
“That’s right, my boy, you’re just playing a part. All of us do.”
Coulmier looked troubled. “Do we?”
“Yes,” Sade said, and it was true. For a second, he regarded Coulmier. He looked like he’d been tortured, and in a way, he had. It hadn’t all been for its own sake, especially this last bit, and the Marquis felt a tiny bit regretful. “Though if I were you I’d get some rest first. I took a lot out of you, I know, but it was necessary. You’ll realise in time.” He thought about what he’d said, and his hand cupped the side of Coulmier’s face. He was still so submissive there was a frisson of concern in Sade’s mind. He hoped Coulmier didn’t come across anyone on his way to his quarters. Anyone like the doctor, for instance. He and the doctor were similar in that they were both dangerous, especially to someone like Coulmier. “Well, some of it was necessary,” he amended, because he had enjoyed it too.
Regardless of the danger, he pushed Coulmier insistently toward the door, who frowned as if he had forgotten something. Sade’s heart lurched, and he swallowed. “Wait!” Coulmier said, then his vision cleared and he smiled. “Nice try,” he said, “but I have to lock you up again.”
“Must you?” Sade asked in a resigned manner, but he allowed Coulmier to attach him to the wall, putting on a show of being all sullen about it. And to think he had assumed Coulmier was the toy! There was nothing like being put back in one’s box to realise the truth of a situation.
But in the end, back in his box he was, and Coulmier left to seek some rest. When he was at last alone, and had been for a good few minutes, when he was finally sure that Coulmier wasn’t coming back, Sade slid down the wall, until he was sat with his back against it, then moved his body as far forward as the chains would allow, reaching out with one leg.
There was a scraping sound as his toes caught the knife handle, and de Sade grinned as he slowly, with great effort, brought the knife to him. Eventually, he manipulated it into one of his hands. If he had no other option, then he might have used it to mark his skin, but he did have options.
They’d never discovered this hidey hole, which by chance was well within reach of the chains. They had refreshed the mortar, however, after finding a couple of his others, and so Sade spent the entire night diligently scraping away at it with the knife until he had access to it again. In there he uncovered a sheaf of papers, some quills and a pot of ink. Relieved beyond words, which was rare for him, he hid the knife and the bottle of oil away along with those treasured possessions, and replaced the stone carefully. It didn’t matter if Coulmier remembered now.
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Ruined Abbe