The Priest by Ela Piazzi

7/29/2019 The Priest by Ela Piazzi

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The priest

By Ela Piazzi

4392 words

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He packed everything.

Getting his suitcase ready was such a delicate job that he

disposed to be the only one in charge of it. Delegating would

mean too many questions. He applied his usual meticulousness

to the preparation. Every single object he placed in his bag

had its precise place, and followed a specific need.

After countless time, he could spend an entire night

alone. Nothing so common in his field. He had the right to

take it easy. For once, not experiencing the fear to be

exposed, or the terror that someone was in the wrong place at

the wrong time a person near your bedroom while youre

panting, for example - could be an enormous relief.

From the next day on a lot of appointments would submerge

him once again. So many that he would forget the meaning of

the words time alone. But that night, oh dear, that night

was special. He would be back to reality too soon. Since then,

though, he would have 12 hours for himself. Nobody asking for

a confession. No one imploring for forgiveness.

Like a holiday.

The hotel his assistant booked for him had a peculiar

name, with an exotic hint of Soviet Union. He was confident

that the Koolerov Hotel was luxurious enough for his

standards.

The brochure he had on his desk the week before was rich

in details. It was a compact old fashioned skyscraper of 22

floors, with a panoramic terrace on the top floor with glass

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ceiling, restaurant with V.I.P. section, caviar bar, swimming

pools for private parties, fitness club, Spa and a 3 screens

cinema. Everything condensed in one building.

Impressive.

The perfect place for someone with a lot of money to

waste.

Pointless.

But it was for free. So it was fine.

Even if Michael always aimed at the top he was the

youngest Bishop named in the region and was a sophisticate

person, grown up in an aristocratic family and used to wealth,

he always reckoned that wasting money was stupid.

Spending thousands dollars for a night out in a hotel

suite was futile. Instead, spending money to buy the silence

of patronizing kids was subtle smart.

Life is a matter of choices.

He took a taxi from the station to the hotel. The driver

left him in front of it. A nice guy dressed up in livery

opened two glass doors for him. He was young, but not enough.

If they were more than fifteen, they were no more noteworthy.

Another call boy, in the same livery dress, collected his

baggage.

Good evening, Mr Leary the porter said. He was a bald

man under the average height, with an egg shaped head. He

had the typical void and dull look of an oven cooked fish,

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but seemed smart enough to keep his mouth shut if greased in

the right way. And Mr Leary was good at that.

It's cold tonight, isn't it? egg shaped head tried,

filling up the registration form.

Yes Mr Leary answered, dry.

The porter didn't say anything else. He knew when it was

time to shut up. He asked Mr Leary if he could sign the

registration form, showing him where to do it with his sausagy

finger, then he slid the magnetic key on the counter and

nodded the way to the lifts. Your suitcase is in your room,

Mr Leary. he said, bowing his head on the desk.

When Mr Leary opened the door, the call boy asked him if

he needed any help to unpack, but he declined the offer,

lightening his eyes with twenty bucks tip. Then he sent the

guy away with a wave and this left with no hesitation, closing

the door with a gentle click.

Suite 209. Twentieth floor.

Two bedrooms, dining room, two bathrooms, walk in

closet, terrace.

Nice place.

Maybe too pompous. But nice.

18.00

Given the hour, he decided to order dinner. He called the

room service, choosing a light meal consisting of Cesar salad,

wholemeal bread and water yes, ice and lemon please. Fresh

fruit for dessert. On the other side, they asked him if he was

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fine with thirty minutes waiting. He'd like to say that, even

if he wasn't, he had to wait thirty minutes anyway. But he

preferred to bite his tongue. He thanked the voice and hung

up.

No point getting angry for that. Much better to take a

shower and get ready for the night.

Mr Leary took off his clothes, folded them with care, and

put everything in the closet, to keep his duties out of sight

until the next day. Then he went to the bathroom, where he

granted himself a long, hot, perfumed bathe.

He took razor and shaving foam from his bag, even if both

products where included in the toilet set the hotel provided

to every room. He preferred his own stuff. He used to choose

something delicate, because he wasnt big fan of strong

fragrances.

Mr Leary entered the shower cubicle, opened the tap,

adjusted the temperature until it was fine, then spread his

chest with spume, shaving it with care, before driving his

attention towards shoulders, armpits, groin, bottom and legs.

The operation required forty minutes, but in the end every

single trace of hair was gone. His skin was smoother than a

babys.

He used the warm water also for another purpose. He didnt

practice sodomy on himself as he did on others, but in few

special occasions it was still acceptable.

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He took his own personal pleasure instrument from an

anonymous leather box he had in his beauty case. A eight

inches, black device in soft nonallergenic latex he bought on

a website. With a good preparation it could be inserted with

one fluid movement.

It didnt take much. Even if he had not used it for long.

When he started to play for real, the bell rang. He had

forgotten about the bloody room service. He couldnt leave it

unanswered, but at the same time he couldnt interrupt his

game so close to the end. There was only one thing to do.

He closed the tap, wore a bathrobe, walked towards the

door with a hand pressed on his bottom, and let in the guy he

had met before.

It would have been embarrassing and a source of further

problems if something had slipped down, falling on the floor

with a slack pop. With slow, small steps, he reached the

closet, where he extracted twenty more bucks from a thick roll

of notes kept together by an elastic. He stretched his arm and

passed the note to the boy, with no further movements.

The young man was concentrated on the money floating in

front of his face to notice anything else.

When Mr Leary heard the door closing, he let air fill up

his lungs again, relieved. Thank God, everything went right.

To be sure, he hanged the Dont disturb disk on the handle.

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Now that he was alone for good, he had no problem walking

in a strange way or keeping a hand on his ass while he was

setting up for dinner.

He took the salad platter, plumped up the pillows and laid

down on the bed very slowly, feeling a nice pang coming from

his lower belly. After a quick check to the TV channels list,

Mr Leary chose a movie that bored him at the second scene,

opted for a funny comedy, but ended up on a porn channel. Even

that didnt meet his tastes. Men and women, busy on their own,

alone or in couple, wasn't what he preferred. He swapped for

the gay channel, but still it didnt give him that thrill he

expected. Picking from the TV guide he found out, with some

disappointment, that the kind of programmes he loved the most

wouldn't start until eleven, and he also had to pay an extra

for that.

He had no time, then. Its call would come at any minute

from eleven. And if he was a good girl it would take all

night.

He shook his head. Better not to think about it. Too much

pressure would only make it worse.

Getting dressed, instead, seemed a nice idea.

The key to pleasure stands in waiting. He learnt it during

the long years of formation in seminary. The real delight

stands in every single moment that separates a person from the

pleasure itself. The longer you wait, the bigger the

satisfaction is.

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To start with, he extracted the eight inches of non

allergic latex from his ass, and left it on the bed. His body

panted, thankful. Then he laid the two outfits he had brought

with him on the bedcovers. For that special night he had

chosen his favourites: the pussy and the mistress. He had

collected many dresses along the years. But that two were

specials. They represented everything he loved. Power, lust

and transgression.

He looked both of them with attention, evaluating the most

suitable for the night, considering the importance of the

appointment and the gravity of every single choice.

The bathrobe slipped on the floor, caressing the smooth

skin and giving a pleasantry sensation. The best thing to do

before he got dressed was to prepare everything necessary.

Clothes were there, but the wig was missing. When he pulled it

out from the side pocket, he noticed with a grimace that it

was pressed on a side, and this gave it a stupefied air, as if

it was wandering what it was doing there. He tried to reshape

its red, shoulders length, straight hair, keeping it on his

fisted hand, and the stupefied air disappeared almost

completely. Some hairspray and it would be gone.

No panic. Everything was under control.

Hed better concentrate on the make up, since it would

take long. Make up always first. Then the hair. Then the

dress.

The secret was going step by step, following a routine.

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At first he spread a veil of moisturizing lotion. Every

thing that came after was automatic. Tweeze eyebrows. Cover

shadows with a concealer. Apply foundation cream to uniform

colour and texture. Trace the eyes rim with a black pencil.

Redraw eyelids using a purple eye shadow. Fold lashes with a

curler. Use mascara to thicken and regularize. Design the lips

with a red pencil. Fade the colour towards the inside of the

mouth to make it look deeper and fleshy.

Move on.

Dress up.

If not, he would run late.

He begun with the underwear. He brought a black thong that

was nothing more than a wire. The voice had bought and mailed

it to his office. When he opened the anonymous box, he almost

fell from his chair. A soft black transparent lace on the

front, with small Swarovski and peacock feathers on the back.

It gave him a nice feeling, surrounding with accurate

precision his groin, shaping his hips. He walked back and

forward for a minute, to enjoy that unique sensation he felt

every time he wore something forbidden. As usual, a shiver ran

down his spine, from the back of his neck to his most secret

spot.

His outfits were blinking from the duvet. He opted for

Catwoman, since he hadnt used it for a long time. He wore the

black latex bodysuit, with zips at the height of nipples and

crotch, and a long black tail fixed on the back. He pulled it

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up along his legs, covered his torso, and buttoned it up

behind his neck. He wore elbow length gloves, covered his eyes

and nose with a black mask, with white moustache under the

nostrils. At last the boots. The tight highs

He had forgotten the tights.

Fuck.

F. U. C. K.

The voice would punish him for that. He felt a brief sting

at the stomach. What if he had forgotten them on purpose?

His mouth turned into a smile, ironing a couple of

invisible creases on the gloves. He could cope without tights

and a punishment, after all. It would be nice. Pleasant for

sure.

10.25.

He only had to wear boots and ears. Still half an hour and

he would receive the so expected video call.

Mr Leary took the laptop and laid it on the bed in front

of him. He sat on the edge to put his boots on, giving his

shoulders to the webcam, that went on air following the self

activating procedure, broadcasting all his movements.

He was so focused on what he was doing, that he didn't

notice that the voice was on the other side. It was checking

every single movement he was doing, caressing with firm and

gentle touch the Persian sitting on his womb. It was in a dark

room, the only visible thing the shining yellow eyes.

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Mr Leary stood up, and walked back and forward in the

room, swaying the hips because of high heels he wasn't used

to that anymore collecting all the things he could find

around to avoid the mess. He caught a glimpse of himself in

the window pane. Divine.

10.45.

Its call could come every minute. One last adjustment to

the make up, and he would be ready to take the stage.

You are very nice tonight, Mitzy the voice said in the

bedroom. He heard it from the bathroom and had an involuntary

jerk, that smudged the lipstick.

Shit! he swore in a low tone. Mr Leary had no more than

ten seconds to repair the damage and go next door. One second

too much, and the voice could disappear for months.

He cleaned up the mark with a piece of toilet paper, but

lipstick stains.

Eight seconds.

He grabbed the concealer, frenetic, spread a veil under

his lip, and sponged the excess with more toilet paper.

Five seconds.

Lip liner to redraw the contour.

Faster. He was too slow.

Two seconds.

Close the line.

One second.

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He left the bathroom, crossing the threshold of the room

with a big smile, walking slow and catlike.

You are beautiful Mitzy. I mean it. It is a shame for

that lipstick smear. But you were fast to find a solution. I

appreciate it.

The voice knew it. How the hell could it? His smile was

frozen, but he was unsettled.

You are not wearing my favourite dress tonight. But this

one fits you in a delicious way. Well done. It was evident

that it was smiling. From its tone. It was the happy tone of

someone whos smiling. Turn on yourself. I want to see how

good you look the voice ordered.

He did it.

There was a very simple, straight forward agreement

between them. The voice spoke, he obeyed. He could talk only

if he had the permission. Otherwise he would be silent the

whole time.

He liked it this way. He wasnt a chatty person. And the

voice was good at giving orders. It was authoritarian, but

fair. It did only what he deserved, nothing more nothing less.

It was a pleasure to obey.

Those zips could be an interesting thing to use tonight

the voice said. Did you bring what I asked for?

He nodded with an imperceptible movement of the head.

Take it the voice said. The first order. Michael leaned

on the mattress and took the dildo, abandoned as a death body.

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It seems you already used it the voice said. A proud and

satisfied smile hovered on his lips.

He nodded again, but didnt add a word.

Let me see how good you are with it the voice said,

hoarsen by excitement. At least, Mr Leary hoped it was

excitement. It could be a suffocate laugh. He was paranoid.

Better not to think about it.

He opened the zip groin height, bending forward enough to

give the best view of his bottom in front of the camera, and

pushed, with a certain effort, what he was commanded to push.

Very well. Now close the zip. And walk back and forward.

Get used to it the yellow eyes turned towards him. It was as

if the cat was talking to him. Maybe it was so.

He wandered across the room, while the silicon was filling

up his intestines. It was painful, in particular at the

beginning, but during the last three years he had done things

that were worse than that. And after few minutes it turned

into pure delight.

Down on your knees the voice commanded. He got down on

his knees, bending his leg inch after inch. He couldnt move

any quicker than that.

He squatted on the soft and thick carpet, lying his cheeks

on the calves. He felt his muscles relaxing a bit, even if the

content of his bowels was anchored with a good grip.

His head was fiery high, his torso rigid, hands on the

tights, palms opened.

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Put yourself on all fours, like a cat, and walk around

the room in this way.

A new order. Easy enough to perform.

If it wasn't for.

It began to hurt. But he couldnt say anything. No words

from his mouth. He had to accept it, nothing else.

You are very clever tonight, Mitzy. I can see that you

got scared enough the last time. Good girl. You know that I do

not like whims. If you are very good, maybe you can come,

later on the dark on the other side whispered.

Right. The last time.

The last time he spoke. When it wasnt required. Above

all, he asked the wrong thing. When he was commanded to stop,

he asked to go on, please, just for a second. That led to a

tremendous punishment. The voice disappeared in the same

instant he stopped talking, and didnt turn up for the next

six months. That had been so terrible for him that he swore on

his life not to do it again.

So, when he saw in his inbox an email from the voice, his

heart almost exploded. The voice wanted him again. After so

long that Michael believed he would never have heard from it

anymore. He was wrong. The voice had not disappeared. It was

just angry. Very, very angry.

This time everything needed to be perfect. He couldnt

make mistakes. In order to achieve it, he had to make a big

effort of concentration.

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So he nodded, bending his head once, his eyes staring at

the dark behind the monitor, and obeyed.

I think you have a scarf, do you not Mitzy?

Mr Leary nodded for the third time.

Yes. He had a scarf. A black, plain scarf. It was part of

the clothing. It would be blasphemous to use it for that. But

a scarf was a scarf after all. Didnt matter where it came

from.

Take it. And search for somewhere to tight it. A lap, for

example. Or a handle. Something solid, suitable to cope with

weight.

He stared around. A lap? Where the hell could he find a

lap in a place like that? That wasnt a bloody dance floor.

Think, he said to himself.

The shower had a glass cubicle. No.

Curtains were hung too high. No.

The bed head was padded. No.

There was only one door in the room, and it was a sliding

door. No handles.

Shit.

The last option that popped in his mind was the closet.

There was a bar to hang clothes.

He tried it. It seemed solid enough to cope with weight.

Satisfied, Mr Leary brought the laptop in front of the

cabinet, turning the webcam around to show is conquest,

waiting for a confirmation.

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Better not take any risks. Not when everything was going

so well.

Very good Mitzy the voice said, echoing in the small

space. It was balmy and enshrouding, a warm breeze at the

sunset. Mr Leary smiled, pleased.

Leave the laptop somewhere, so that I can see you. And

take the scarf. Tonight you will show me your ability with

knots.

It wasnt the first time, so he learnt how to do knots,

safety knots in particular, efficient but easy to release. A

good knot is the one that can be untied in no more than an

instant.

He did everything he was asked for. He dragged a chair in

front of the open doors, and put the laptop on it.

He took the scarf.

Knot it. Around the pole and then around your neck. I

want to see you come tonight the voice said. His excitement

was noticeable. Now he was sure.

He passed the scarf over the closet pole. Then he began a

complex and uneasy work of knotting. He had to pay a lot of

attention to this part. His job was made more difficult by the

content of his viscera, that seemed to grow as time passed by.

And up and down and in and down and turn and turn and down

and turn and in and right and turn. He created a kind of loop

knot, one end tight to the closet, the other around his neck.

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You are delicious tonight, Mitzy. I would like to see you

moving your tail for me the voice whispered, vicious.

Is it touching itself? He wondered. He couldnt see, but

hed like to take a peek.

He turned with a slow movement, the loop knot tightening

around his throat, but not yet leaving him breathless. He

moved his hips to the left and to the right, struggling to

keep head and neck firm.

I am very satisfied the voice said. Now I want you to

open the zip at the front, and give yourself satisfaction. Use

your hands, as if they were mine. I am touching you. I am

burying myself into your flesh. I close a hand around your

neck. I want you. You are mine. Do it, Mitzy. Do it now. For

me. And I will let you scream at the end.

Those words were the only thing he wanted hear.

To do his job, he needed a strong dose of imagination. He

was well equipped on that front. The same couldnt be said

about his dimensions, that were ridiculous. Just a bit bigger

than an average middle finger. But it was better this way. So

that when he met those nice and sweet inexperienced kids that

he liked so much, he could play with them with no problems,

avoiding too many fusses.

He knew that when they tried to escape, they were only

making up excuses. They played hard to get him out, but in the

end they were all the same. They all wanted the same thing.

Even if they complained and kept saying no, and some of them

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cried praying him to stop. But in the end all of them went

away satisfied. Many of them used to come back. For their own

will.

But now it wasnt time to think about his pupils. Now he

could satisfy that need that had been waiting for six months.

And he could do it properly.

Every single thing hed done in the past six months wasn't

even close to that.

Its hands. Those ones were its hands. They were touching

him. Caressing his body, up and down. Grazing his skin. They

were grabbing his dick from the base. They were making him

shiver. It didnt stop to talk, not even for a second.

He liked the way it was talking to him. His way to give

him orders. His way to make him feel special. He was at the

centre of attention. He loved to be at the centre of

attention. He loved to be watched. Idolized. Forced.

The loop knot was tightening in proportion to his

pleasure, but it could still be untied by pulling the end of

the scarf. He was sitting on a low shelf inside the closet.

Underneath it the safe. It was solid. Unbreakable. It could

cope with his weight with no accidents.

Everything was under control.

He felt the pleasure mounting.

He was already anticipating that moment.

The moment when.

He promised to make him scream.

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He was doing it.

He was allowed to do it.

He was doing it.

Close.

So close.

Almost.

DRIIIIIIIIIN.

What the fuck!

His mind confused by the lack of oxygen, the sharp

movement caused by the unexpected noise and the latex still

wrapping his body up made him slip on the shelf and lose his

balance.

And goodbye safety knots.

Mr Leary was too far to reach the end of the scarf. He was

lengthening his hand towards the fabric, but with no results.

His legs were no more supportive. He tried to push on his

heels, but they grasped on the floor without being of any

help.

He could feel the tongue swollen, in his mouth, occupying

all the available space. A constellation of small black dots

exploded in front of his eyes. His hands flew towards his

throat. His fingers closed around the scarf. Not a chance to

flip under the fabric and start breathing again.

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The only scream he could do in the end was chocked and

cyanotic, like his face, that took on a delicate shade of

blue.

Soon after that the black dots became a unique black spot.

Even though he saw something. But his mind didnt record it as

real.

There was a bald small man, with a egg - shaped head and a

pair of round glasses on top of his nose, wearing the

concierge uniform.

He walked towards him, but instead of giving him any kind

of help, he closed the laptop monitor.

After that, only the dark.

The guest in room 209 is not available at the moment.

Please leave a message after the tone.

BIP.

His Eminence, Monsignor Joseph here. I called to inform

you that, because of the bad weather, Your appointment has

been moved to the day after tomorrow. We are sorry about that.

Call us back on 555 897 624 as soon as possible. Have a nice

evening. And God rest Your soul.

AMEN.

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(4348 words)

The Priest by Ela Piazzi

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Transcript of The Priest by Ela Piazzi