11. Father Alexander
Father Alexander
Celine walks through the exit of the courtyard, her nightgown blowing behind her. The way the fabric is floating, she appears as a ghost roaming the church halls.
But that damn nightgown… It left nothing to the imagination, and I hate that I looked when I wasn’t supposed to. I will have to pay for that act.
I put the cigarette out by scratching it on the brick beneath my feet, tuck the butt into my pocket, and head back to my room. I hope she doesn’t tell anyone about me smoking. It was a moment of weakness. I haven’t had a cigarette since I was in New York.
Once I get into my bedroom, I make sure the smell doesn’t linger by heading straight for my bathroom, tossing what’s left of the cigarette in the toilet, and flushing it away. Stalking back into my bedroom, I inhale a deep breath from the anticipation of what I’m about to do.
At the end of my bed is a chest. An object that I try to stay away from because of what is inside. I don’t typically resort to this because it has been a while since anything has led me to take this action. But, after tonight, I don’t have a choice.
Lifting the lid, I pull out the rope I need and take it over to the other side of my bed—the handle of the discipline whip points towards me as I spread out the seven woven sisal ropes.
Kneeling before the bed, my fingers fumble over each button of my shirt. Once each one is unfastened, I shrug the material off my body and let it fall to the floor. I lift my hand, swallowing hard when I grip the handle because I know the pain I’m about to endure.
I hate doing this, but it is the only thing that helps. I associate the pain with the sin, and over time, when I think of the sin I want to commit, I remember how the ropes felt against my back. I grind my teeth together and think of the sin that has brought on this punishment.
Celine.
Her nightgown was tight around her body, and her nipples were hardened, visible through the thin fabric. I think about how I wanted to wrap my mouth around—
The rope strands lash against my back before I can finish the thought. I breathe heavily out through my nose, the pain radiating throughout my entire body. I welcome the sting, letting my head fall back until my eyes meet the ceiling.
I’ve been good since I became a priest. There haven’t been any temptations in the form of a woman since I joined the church. Sure, there were always beautiful women here and at the church back in New York, but their beauty never made these thoughts enter my mind.
Celine, however, has only been here for four days, and I’m having impure thoughts already. What is it about her that makes my mind wander? Why is she different?
The rope bites at my skin again, causing me to grunt out in pain, because I know that I’m already bleeding. It usually only takes me two times whipping myself for me to have a clear mind, but she is still present.
I shut my eyes in hopes not to see her face, but she’s still there. This time, however, she is standing there without her nightgown on. The image causes me to groan at the sight, but I fight through it. I tighten my grip on the handle and do it a third time.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
The image of her face has begun to slowly fade. I whip myself one more time until she is completely gone. Four times. That’s the most I’ve ever had to do this. My back will be raw and need medical attention, meaning I’ll have to visit the nurse first thing tomorrow morning.
For now, I will do my usual routine after disciplining myself. Shower in lukewarm water and use the soap I bought to help clean the wounds as thoroughly as possible. I will let the nurse clean it correctly tomorrow and pray that this is the last time I’ll have to discipline myself.
I slept like shit last night.
Not only did I toss and turn, not able to get comfortable because of the pain, but Celine crept into my mind every time I closed my eyes.
It got to the point where I couldn’t stand lying in bed anymore.
I got up and tried taking an ice-cold shower to clear my thoughts, because I knew my skin couldn’t take any more of the ropes so soon.
When I looked in the mirror this morning, dark circles were visible under my eyes.
They weren’t too bad, but I know that the spots on my skin will grow darker throughout the day.
After dressing in my black pants and clerical long sleeves, I tried to comb my hair as best I could before leaving the comfort of my room.
The nurse’s office isn’t far from the wing of the church I sleep in, so within a couple of minutes, I’m knocking on the wooden door and peeking my head in to announce my arrival.
“Father Alexander,” Sister Agnus greets me with a smile from behind her desk. “What can I do for you?”
I step inside, shutting the door softly behind me. “I was wondering if you could treat a wound.”
“Of course,” she answers without questioning. “Right this way.”
I follow her into the back room, where there is a bed and a table with drawers pushed up against the wall. She opens a drawer, taking out gauze and a clear liquid.
“Where are your wounds?”
“My back,” I respond, to which she gives a curt nod.
Sister Agnus instructs me to remove my shirt, and then she gets to work.
She doesn’t ask why I have these wounds, and she doesn’t need to. This woman has been part of the church for a very long time and understands the practice of discipline. She also understands that discussing the reason for discipline is not allowed.
My body tenses as she lightly presses a washcloth to the wounds. A stinging sensation singes through my body as she disinfects them with an alcohol pad, but it fades once she applies a cooling ointment and gauze.
“You may need to come see me again so I can clean it once more. This is worse than last time.”
Yeah… I know.
“I can come see you before the end of the night.” I slide my shirt back on and begin buttoning it, making sure the white collar sits correctly.
She goes about her business, putting away her supplies and tossing the gloves she was wearing in the trash bin before washing her hands.
I say a quick thank you and leave the office, heading to my own.
I need to get things ready for Sunday’s prayer which I’m not looking forward to.
In the time that I have been here, I’ve only led prayer one other time.
The last time we discussed community concerns.
It was easy to lead, since we were supposed to address the women’s issues with the church, but they didn’t have any.
This Sunday is all about scripture and testimonies. I won’t be speaking the entire time, though. Only briefly, and then Father Keaton will take over, so I can get things situated with confessional.
As I walk down the hall, two women pass by, greeting me with a kind smile and a slight nod.
I return the gesture, but my smile fades when I see Celine with Esther just a ways down.
I really wish she wouldn’t hang around her.
That woman is trouble, and I don’t want Celine to fall into that routine.
I mean, she already has a bit of a bite to her, but we don’t need it to escalate.
An idea pops into my head, one that will keep her busy. I approach them, their laughter dying down as I get closer.
“Celine, Esther.” I nod to both of them.
“Hi, Father Alexander,” Esther exhales, clearly still displeased with the events that took place last night.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled when I found her in the courtyard and confronted her for disobeying the rules. I had busted her for smoking. And then shortly after, Celine busted me for the same thing.
“Esther, shouldn’t you be helping out with lunch prep today?”
She huffs, not even attempting to hide her annoyance, before she says goodbye to Celine and leaves us alone.
Celine watches me for a moment and then stares straight ahead. “Am I allowed to be in this hall?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to fight off the smile that wants to appear from the defiance in her tone.
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to make me leave?” She finally looks at me.
I have to pause for a moment to catch my breath because her beauty is something I’ll never get used to.
“No, but there is something I’d like for you to do.”
Her brows fall in confusion. “And what’s that?”
“They need an extra hand in the library.” It’s a lie, but she wouldn’t know any better.
Celine pushes herself off the wall to face me. “Do all the women in the convent have jobs?”
“They aren’t jobs.”
“Because they don’t get paid?”
“Because it is an act of kindness to help where it’s needed. And it is nice to keep yourself busy when you don’t have lessons.”
My eyes dance across her face. Starting at hers, then dipping down to the natural pink tint on her cheeks, and then to her mouth. Those filthy thoughts are slowly beginning to creep into my mind again at the sight of her plump lips.
“What if I like the freedom?” Her voice pulls my attention.
“Freedom is nice until you get bored with it.”
She thinks about it for a moment, really thinks about it. “Sister Alice said some women tend to the gardens in the courtyard. What if I want to do that?”
“I’m sure you could help out when they need it, but the library has been desperate for assistance.”
“Why?” She folds her arms across her chest.
Inhaling a deep breath, my gaze fights not to look at the way the position of her arms pushes her breasts together. With all the willpower in my body, I hold her stare and say, “Sister Greta is… difficult to work with. She is very set in her ways and isn’t afraid to be stern.”
“Oh, great!” Her voice drips with sarcasm, then turns serious. “That’s very kind of you to set me up with the meanest person in the convent, but I think I’ll pass.”
Celine starts to walk away, but I grab her arm. My fingers wrap around her bicep, the warmth of her skin heating mine. I immediately drop my hand as if I’m afraid I will be burned from the feeling of her, and I curse at myself for being stupid enough to even touch her.
“I suggested it because I know you’d be able to handle her.”
At that, her posture stiffens, and she twists her lips.
“Oh.”
“Go to where you are needed now,” I command. “I will find you after and take you to the library so you can meet Sister Greta for yourself.”