BAD HABIT 2: THE REDEMPTION OF MARY MAGDALEN by Alex Severin

Father Domimus felt a stirring in his loins as he smelled the familiar scent of fear in the air.  People from small towns were so easy, so gullible, infinitely
suggestible.   They had already worked themselves into a frenzy over nothing at all and now the whole town was terrified that the accusing finger of the Witchfinder would be pointed in their direction.  

The smile on Sister Columbus' lips was seraphic.  She appeared to be so calm and serene and godly.  But the sweet smile hid the desires of Hell's minions and an unquenchable lust for blood and human suffering.

As the two of them revelled in the anticipatory thrill they both felt as they approached the town square, Sister Columbus lightly dragged her long nails over Father Dominus' ass.  He looked at her from the corner of his eye, a slow smile teasing the corners of his mouth.  Sister Columbus' pussy was wet already.

The familiar stench of burning flesh assaulted their nostrils now.  They exchanged one-sided smiles and knowing glances.

In the middle of the town-square the first of the witches was being burned.  Around 200 people had amassed from miles around to watch the show.  Peddlars sold souvenirs - little figures carved from lumps of coal, a bundle of little twigs for a pyre beneath it.  People ate freshly baked bread and drank wine in the foul air.  Specks of charring flesh descended on the food and drink as the spectators consumed the remains of the heathen.  This repast would not go to waste just because a witch's ashes had landed upon it.

Father Dominus felt invincible; he was fresh from Rome after talking his way out of what happened in the church at Tarantaise.  He played his most dangerous game with the leaders of the catholic faith in God's earthly home  and had won.  He had a new set of credentials complete with the seal of Pope Alexander VII, a man who slept with a coffin under his bed.  And if the rumours of his exploits preceded him, who would question the mark of the Pope?  Who would dare?  Who would even mention the Tarantaise incident and not fear for the safety of their own tongue? Yes, Dominus felt invincible, untouchable and could do whatever he wanted to do and had the blessing of the Pope to do it.    

The pyre had not been put together efficiently; some of the kindling was wet and so the woman was choking on the clouds of smoke billowing around her.  Usually the witch suffocated quickly because the heat of the fire fused together the air sacks in the lungs.  But this pyre was a dud, the flames sparse and she was burning, slowly from the feet up.  But surely she could not endure for much longer.

Father Dominus and Sister Columbus stood side by side watching the burning.  Columbus' thighs tightened as the screams of the woman on the pyre reached a crescendo, the stench of the burning flesh invading her senses, the sound of her skin hissing and bubbling made her juices overflow and run down the inside of her thigh.  She wanted to lay down there and then, put her fingers in her dripping cunt and rub her swollen clit.  She wanted the congregation to hear her moaning with pleasure, she wanted them to watch her, she wanted to feel the hot ashes of the woman on the pyre rain down on her and burn her skin.  

She wanted the dirty, stinking men in the crowd to ravish her, she wanted them to kiss her all over, suck on her rigid nipples and put their filthy fingers in her pussy.  She wanted to feel a hundred fingers working on her all at once, feel their long and ragged nails scraping on the inside of her womb making trickles of fresh blood mix with her flowing juices.  She wanted a dick in every orifice, probing, thrusting, fucking.  

Sister Columbus realised that her fantasy had made her gasp aloud as Father Dominus nudged her with his elbow.  He turned to her and said, 'What in the name of God were you thinking about, Sister? with a twisted smile that escaped from between his lips and slid across his mouth.  She returned an equally twisted smile.

Once the poor unfortunate on the pyre had finally departed from her suffering, Father Dominus and Sister Columbus retreated to the office of the town's governor.  He was a large man who's chins moved one way whilst his head moved the other.  Every time he shifted in his chair the smell of stale sweat wafted through the room.  Sister Columbus was repulsed by him but still she wondered what it would be like to fuck him and smiled sweetly at him, shook his hand as she envisioned him wheezing and dripping his foul sweat all over her body as he thrust clumsily in and out of her sex.  She involuntarily shuddered and he eyed her closely, lids narrowed into slits pondering what on earth had made her shiver after standing so close to the heat of the pyre.

The governor sat behind his desk and invited the two emissaries of God to sit down.  He explained to Dominus and Columbus that his town was being held under siege by witchcraft.  He told them of how he had come upon a coven of 'The Devil's harlots' dancing naked at the edge of the forest by the river.  What he actually saw, he knew very well, was three teenage girls who had snuck out in the night to swim naked, nothing more.

He recited to them the many cases of enchantment he had personally investigated and the dozens of confessions he had extracted from witches.  He was obviously pleased with 'God's work' he had carried out.  The smirk on his face told Dominus and Columbus that he was a sadistic fuck just like them.

Father Dominus asked of him, 'Why now do you require our assistance?  You have been most successful in your quest.'  Sister Columbus barely managed to disguise a snigger by clearing her throat.  'Well, Father, there is this one particular witch who will not confess.'

As Dominus and Columbus were escorted to their chambers within the chateau, neither of them could wait to meet the enigmatic 'witch who will not confess.'  Columbus was beside herself with excitement; the errant witch was named after her Biblical heroine, Mary Magdalen.

Sister Columbus had been obsessed with Mary Magdalen since childhood.  She knew that Magdalen had to be an upstanding and successful member of her community - she was 'Mary of Magdala'; being a person 'of' a town was a prestigious title.  

The Catholic church had demoted Mary Magdalen to the rank of a prostitute, 'The Whore of Babylon'.  After all she was a woman and all women are filthy ungodly creatures except the Virgin Mary of course.  That always made Columbus laugh.  What man, even in Biblical times would stay with a woman who denied him the privilege of the marital bed?  No man.  

Columbus had seen aged texts of the Bible where Mary being a virgin was not mentioned.  That came later.  The Catholic church decided that Mary, Mother of God should become a virgin to set her apart from the rest of the unworthy filth that was womankind.

Sister Columbus was in awe of Mary Magdalen.  She envied her close relationship with JC.  She was the first person to see him after the resurrection, it was she that he appeared before.  

Columbus was certain that Christ and Mary Magdalen had been lovers.  As she stood in the chill of her bedchamber, she rubbed her cross on her rosary over her hardening nipples; she was imagining watching the two of them making love.

She closed her eyes and slowly removed her habit; her hot skin goosed as the cold air of the stone room deep inside the chateaux hit her.

She lay down on the luxurious four poster bed and rolled her nipples between her fingers, letting out a long, low sigh.  She opened her eyes and they rested upon a large wooden crucifix on the wall above her bed.  She reached up and took it down off the wall.  

Sister Columbus looked longingly at the silver figure of Christ on the cross and kissed his face gently. She inverted the cross and slid it between the lips of her sex, gasping as the chill silver face of the Messiah glided over her throbbing clit.

She visualised laying on a bed of luxurious silken pillows, sheer, exotic fabrics draped over her in a low canopy, her naked hungry body being kissed and caressed by Mary Magdalen and Jesus Christ.

She could almost feel Mary's slick, hot tongue flicking rapidly over her rigid nipples and the skilful fingers of the Nazareen working magic in her overflowing pussy.

Her masturbation ended in an explosive orgasm, her cum flowing so hard that she felt it run down the insides of her thighs and drip onto the sheets beneath her.

She removed the crucifix from her cunt, licked her juices from Christ's body then hung him back up on the wall.  She smiled and pulled the bedclothes over herself and whispered to the collecting darkness, 'Bless me Father for I have sinned.'  

Columbus' excitement was too great to get much sleep; she awoke early and went to fetch the Father.  He was leaving his room as she was leaving hers and both of them glanced at each other, a familiar excitement shining in both their gazes.

Excitement crawled all over Sister Columbus like the caress of a skilful lover as she entered the chateau's dungeon.  Her nipples hardened in anticipation.  The stench of rank, unwashed women, excrement, urine and roasting flesh mingling with the scent of fear was like the fragrance of a fine perfume to her.

The roasted flesh belonged to Mary Magdalen.  Columbus' eyes widened as her gaze came to rest on her; she was a full-bodied young woman of no more than 20 years with a wild mane of dirty blonde hair.  Her huge, round breasts begged for her touch, Sister Columbus thought to herself.

Sister Columbus was as fascinated by her as she was by the young woman's biblical namesake; her eyes thirstily drank in the spectacle of this portrait of femininity.

Mary Magdalen sat in the Hot Seat, smirking at her captors, silently enduring her torture.  All the men in the room had expressions of extreme unease upon their faces; they feared that this one may just be a real witch.

The Hot Seat was a wrought iron chair; little crosses were cut from the metal of the seat and a small fire lit beneath it.  The metal heated up frying the sitter as the shape of the cross was burned into their skin, time and time again.

Nervous glances were exchanged by all the men in the room as Mary Magdalen continued to sit there in silence, staring at each one of them in turn, the corners of her mouth upturned in an eerie grin.

Father Dominus cleared his throat and announced, 'Thank you, gentlemen, we shall continue God's work now.  Alone.'  The quieted sadists silently shuffled out of the dungeon, leaving Father Dominus and Sister Columbus alone with the witch.

Columbus crossed the room to inspect and elderly woman who lay on the Rack in the corner of the dungeon.  The woman had been there for some time; her body was fully rigored and already beginning to rot, her flesh purple and black.  The gaze from her dead eyes was obviously devoid of any soul.  Columbus sneered as she made the sign of the cross over the old woman's corpse.

Father Dominus stood watching Mary Magdalen in awe; still she had not moved or made a sound.  He unbound her and offered his hand to aid her out of the Hot Seat but still she sat.  Columbus was now by his side and both of them stood enraptured of this woman they were about to extract a confession from.

Mary Magdalen casually rose from the Hot Seat with no more haste than if she had been sitting in a comfortable armchair.  She crossed the dungeon to the rack and removed the old woman's corpse.  She lay down on the torture device and said, 'Do hurry up, I don't have all day.  I have a repeated rape scheduled for this evening.'  The divine duo looked at each other in amazement.

'Confess, witch, and all your suffering shall be at an end.'  She turned towards the priest, 'Father, do I look as though I am suffering?'  Dominus was perplexed by her.  'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.'  She sneered at him, 'Who shalt not, Father?  God?  God is dead and for him there shall be no resurrection.'  Columbus gasped with delight at this blasphemy.

Columbus wasted no time and peeled off her habit, wet and ready for pleasure.  She kneeled between Mary Magdalen's legs, reaching up with both hands to toy with her nipples.  She buried her face deep in her singed pubic hair, inhaling the scent of her unwashed, menstruating pussy.  Sister Columbus moaned as she sucked hard on the witch's clit and frantically darted her tongue in and out of her sex.

Mary Magdalen was raised up on her elbows looking at Father Dominus, her expression one of boredom.  'You know, Sister…' Columbus stopped what she was doing and looked up, her mouth and chin covered in tiny little blood clots, 'There is little holds any fascination once you have fucked the Devil.'  Even they found this woman an outrage.  Sister Columbus raised her hand to her mouth in shock but Dominus managed to keep a hold of his composure.

'Do you then confess that you are a witch, Mary Magdalen?'  She slowly rolled her eyes, 'I have never denied this, Father, but I will not confess it to them; this place is amusing to me.  It pleases me to smell their fear and to see what fragile faith some of their hearts hold, wither and die.  Most of them believe in God no more than you do, Father Dominus.'  

'Silence!  The Devil has your tongue, woman.'  A maniac smile spread across her mouth as she replied to him, 'The Devil has more than my tongue, priest.'

Mary Magdalen crossed the room and whispered a proposition into Father Dominus' ear, 'I can give you power, Father, power such as you could never imagine.  But this offer does not extend to your companion.  She will be your downfall.' 
'You have such power, witch, why not just leave her of your own volition?  For why do you need me?'
'It's quite simple, Father.  I want you plead my case in Rome.  I want to be ordained as a priest.'  Father Dominus could not hide his shocked excitement.  'That is impossible!  You are not only a woman, you are also a witch, you are evil and corrupt!'  She looked at him with incredulity, 'And your point is?'  He smiled at her and said, 'Touche.'

Father Dominus beckoned to Sister Columbus who dutifully came to him.  She allowed herself to be bound hand and foot to the torture table in the centre of the dungeon.  

'Your faith in Father Dominus is touching, Sister, but extremely ill advised.'  Mary Magdalen picked up a bejewelled dagger and stroked the edge of the blade, drawing blood from her own finger.  She rubbed the scarlet potion onto her lips and kissed the Sister.  She looked at the sanguinary face of the nun and licked her own stain from Sister Columbus' skin.

Columbus began to scream as Mary Magdalen caressed her nervous flesh with the dagger's tip.  She picked up an old piece of rag from the cobbled floor, the material dirty and stained with blood and rat shit.  She stuffed it into Columbus' mouth; she wretched under the stinking gag, her eyes wide and moist with fear now, all of a sudden knowing what her victims had all felt.

Mary Magdalen straddled the prone figure of Sister Columbus; the helpless nun writhed beneath her, trying desperately to free herself from the shackles that bound her to the table but only succeeding in tearing the flesh on her ankles and wrist into bloody ribbons.  Mary Magdalen circled the terrified nun's nipples with the point of the blade then pushed it into the florid pink flesh; a crimson stream, like the blood tears phenomenon from the eyes of a Blessed Virgin statue, flowed from the nun's nipples.  Magdalen licked at the stream, suckling at her breast, content as an infant.

Father Dominus rubbed his fully erect member; the sight of this supreme heathen feeding on a Woman of God made him burn inside.  That thought, Columbus being a Woman of God, made him grin.  He crossed over to the two women; Columbus was moaning her pleasure beneath the gag; Dominus put two fingers between her legs and found her slick with juices.  The nun was aroused even although she knew she was about to die.  

Mary Magdalen pushed the knife blade into the flesh on Columbus' stomach; the nun screamed, the effect of hot, fast pain flowing from her eyes, her thundering heart pumping her life from the wound.  Dominus was at the foot of the table, his hand working on his engorged cock.  'Fuck it.'  Magdalen said to him.  Dominus looked at her, not knowing what she meant.  'The wound on her belly, Dominus.  Fuck it!'  His eyes widened with equal amounts of disgust and excitement.  He did as he was told and mounted the nun, plunging his throbbing cock into the open wound on her stomach.  He thrust into her, fucking her insides the same way as he would fuck her pussy, blood oozing from the deep gash in her flesh, more and more cascading down her perfect white skin with every stroke.

Mary Magdalen was delighting in the power she felt; her juices overflowed and moistened the insides of her thighs.  She hopped up on the table and sat on the half-dead nun's face, suffocating her as she rubbed her swollen clit over her lips and mouth and nose.  Dominus and Magdalen both came screaming, their orgasms making them convulse, their eyes wide and disbelieving at the intensity of their climaxes, both of them gasping and oblivious to the last breath of Sister Columbus.

Father Dominus and Mary Magdalen sat in the office of the Governor now; time to explain the expiration of his companion.  He explained to the captivated Governor how he had cast seven devils from the body of Mary Magdalen, just as Christ had done for his Mary Magdalen.  The exorcised demons then proceeded to attack Sister Columbus, his devout companion in the quest for the purification of sinners, unto death.  He and the witch, a reformed and now God-fearing worshipper, both tried in vain to save Sister Columbus, but alas, her time had come and now she was ascended to Heaven.  The reformed Mary Magdalen would take her place in the quest the two of them had began together.

And now, it was time for Father Dominus and Mary Magdalen to leave this little town; their work was done her for now.  The next quest on their journey was to return to Rome where Dominus would plead with Pope Alexander VII for the ordination of Mary Magdalen as a priest, to fight side by side with him, in the name of God.

© Alex Severin 2001