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magnorious · 10 months ago

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Review: ‘We Take a Zebra to Vegas’, Percy Jackson Episode 6

***Spoilers Ahead for all books and show. TL;DR at the bottom***

After episode 5 I was starting to wonder if episode 3 was a fluke. Here we have the potential for the only non-book reference I wanted in the entire show: Would Nico cameo in the Lotus Casino?

Small, I know, but book fans were robbed of ever seeing him on screen once already when Titan’s Curse was never adapted and with his massive popularity, I was almost certain he’d be here. The closer we got to the Lotus Casino, however, the more I wanted to be wrong. Almost none of the characters look like they’re supposed to, many of them with inconsistent personalities to match. I went from hoping for a blink-and-you’ll miss it reference with a little scruffy 10-year-old that book fans would be able to tell is Nico by his appearance alone to hoping they’d not touch the matter with a 10-foot pole.

After the absurdly dramatic and angsty episode 5 that was supposed to be semi-dangerous and funny, there was a chance to have both the whimsy and wonder of the Lotus Casino, and the rather chilling escape. Before that, the conversation about conservation in the back of the zoo trafficking truck. There was a lot of opportunity for more quiet character moments as well as the adventure and absolutely no need for more nonsense filler.

Onto the episode and given that Hermes is in the thumbnail, are we all in agreement that he only exists here because he’s played by Lin Manuel Miranda? That’s the reason, right? He barely exists in the first book otherwise.

We start right off the bat with more interesting changes. Instead of IM-ing Luke in some random car wash, they do so in the zoo truck. The scene in the book was funnier, because it existed in the place that it did to be funny and the pay-to-pump water gave a clear time limit. But more importantly – they decided to scapegoat Clarisse… for reasons.

Why? Just why? In the book they spend 99% of their quest accusing the wrong person, Hades, and don’t realize they’re wrong until it’s too late. Everyone in the book was like “it’s Hades, it’s gotta be, his kids were Nazis” (a detail I still can’t believe exists, wow). Chiron said it was Hades, everyone said it was Hades, based on ancient biases that Hades spends the entire series proving wrong. He is the best godly parent by a country mile by the end of Book 5 and all of that groundwork started here, when Hades was just as much a victim of the Master Bolt nonsense as everyone else.

Clarisse is neither here nor there, because the writers didn’t have the foresight to script or film any scenes at camp of this random arrest that’s supposed to be important now. The jump cut from ‘the animals have a plan’ to them stopping traffic on the Vegas strip was funny, but it robbed the scene of the seriousness it should have had. More powers Percy doesn’t get: His ability to talk to horses and horse-adjacent animals.

Once they make it to the Lotus Casino, the script does this incredibly irritating thing where it removes the tension of the unknown from every hurdle they meet. Percy’s trapped alone against a mysterious monster in the book and has no idea how to beat it? Nope, Annabeth exposits all over it. They enter a seemingly-abandoned, mortal waterpark and only get suspicious once it’s too late? Nope, Annabeth figures out immediately that it’s a godly amusement park and they must be careful. Two twelve year olds and a satyr are immediately charmed by the glitz and glam of the lotus casino and get trapped for almost the rest of their time limit for the quest? Nope, Grover exposits all over that, too, ruining the mystery and any danger or threat.

Why?

The show also does the irritating thing where it creates problems just to solve them later and before you go “that’s the point of conflict” I mean it creates meaningless problems through meaningless contrivances, like every horror movie cliche that forces its characters to make illogical choices so they don’t just run away from the horror.

And another irritating thing! Spoiling bigger mysteries before their time: We didn’t learn about May Castellan until book 5. Why is this here? What purpose does this serve? Percy realizing he didn’t even know Luke’s last name for five whole years meant something to him. Seeing Luke’s tragic, mortal mother, after hating him for five years *means something* to Percy and to the readers. The gods damned Lotus Casino was absolutely not the place to discover any of this. Why did they do this?

Also, who tf is Augustus? He’s fine. Grover’s random side quest is fine. Every consecutive episode leaves me more and more annoyed with him, but it’s *fine*.

They do actually forget their purpose in the casino, thank the gods. Or, Grover does. Annabeth continues to give away May Castellan exposition like Halloween candy, smack-talking Hermes in a way that she’d never dare at 12 years old. Hermes is still only here because he’s played by Mr. Miranda. He’s fine, he’s just not Hermes. His “woe is me, loving mortals is so damn hard” speech exists. The sentiment is four books early, but it exists.

I understand why it’s here. They’re trying desperately to capture Percy’s internal conflict over whether or not the gods and his dad care about him, if he should let himself be disappointed presuming that they don’t. Problem is– in the book, Poseidon didn’t send a naiad to give him false promises of a clandestine meeting. In the book, the naiad told Percy there’d be a vague “gift” in Santa Monica, and Percy was never naive enough to think that gift would be his dad.

The entire season so far has tried to give nuance to both sides of the “do the gods care and should they be expected to” argument and it’s just not a very well written attempt. Why? Because it had five entire books to give both sides, and they’re shoving as much of it as they can here like they’re afraid they won’t get renewed for season 2. In doing so, they’ve made a tonal mess.

Once Hermes is gone and done randomly and spitefully sabotaging their quest, Percy, unseen, figures out that they’ve lost time and lost Grover. Also, Annabeth pick-pocketed the God of Thieves? Funny, but no. The script has its weird Mitichlorian moment sciencing lore by adding in the detail that lotus nectar or whatever is pumped in through the air, a question no one had and a plot hole that didn’t exist.

They do manage to keep the fear and unsettling realization that they’ve lost time, but their amnesia is inconsistent and confusing, considering that they overexplained how the casino works. Then they’re gone using a God of Thieves’ Car gimmick.

No Nico, thank the gods, unless he was one of the VR kids in the background. It would have been wonderful to see him in a better script.

In the book, they get instantly dazzled by the food, the video games, the nice clothes, nice suite, all things Percy could never dream about growing up poor. There is no Hermes and he only figures out something’s wrong when he meets other kids displaced from time and has to shake Annabeth and Grover from the illusion. They use their casino cash cards with infinite money to hail a cab all the way to LA and it’s funny.

They create more problems that didn’t need to exist by forcing Percy to drive a taxi and okay, that was genuinely funny. I am shocked, though, that Annabeth’s pride let him drive.

The episode comes to an end with them supposedly by the Santa Monica Pier… in a thunderstorm. In southern California. Odd choice, but okay. I'd say the storm exists because Poseidon's pissed but I really think it's there beacuse "dark and stormy night" fit their new vibe better than bright sunlight.

Maybe in live action it was tricky trying to make him both dry underwater and still plausibly underwater and not just rotoscoped in with a hazy green filter. For all their love of exposition, they never actually told non-book watchers about that, or that he can breathe underwater and control some currents. It’s also supposed to be night time, and yet he’s lit as if it’s high noon far above on the surface – they could have just written the beach scene at noon.

Then the naiad he was supposed to talk to in St Louis drops the bomb that the Summer Solstice deadline already passed, Poseidon got too impatient to wait for Percy after the casino delay, and the gods are now at war.

What the fu…..?

Percy resolves to keep going despite armageddon already happening apparently. She gives him exactly the right amount of pearls that he needs, not three, which would force him to choose, and then cut to black.

—

How is the best part of this episode Annabeth’s completely deadpan and exasperated Dude when Percy asks her not to make fun of him? That, and Percy driving the taxi.

Once again, to all the set designers and VFX artists and costumes and makeup and foley and music and score and everyone in between – you’re amazing, keep up the great work. To the actors, you were given a bad script and bad direction and you did the best you could.

Having just come off watching Game of Thrones for the first time and seeing little Arya, Bran, and Rickon Stark’s actors doing donuts around these three just goes to show that it’s not that child actors’ lack of experience that’s the problem. Heck even Baby Percy is better than these three. It’s how much or how little help they get in conveying what they’re supposed to. These kids were thrown to the wolves.

I don’t watch the teasers and I stay away from all marketing for the show. I don’t know who’s been cast to play any characters we haven’t already seen so what Hades and Poseidon look like are a complete mystery that I do hope pays off.

With two episodes to go they have the following left from the book to adapt: Crusty’s water beds, the DOA studios, the entire trip to the underworld and Cerberus and Hades that took two hefty chapters, the Ares fight, Percy’s trip to Olympus, Luke's betrayal and reveal, and the return home to find Hades had paid his debt.

Suddenly the mini series with an episode to burn in St Louis has to sprint to the finish line.

Maybe if they hadn’t spent ten minutes expositing with Hermes they could have at least crammed in Crusty and the DOA, but it looks like armageddon is already upon us so who knows? They might’ve just tossed out the rest of the book to write their own ending.

TL;DR This show is a mess and this episode actually has me nostalgic for the brevity of the horrible movie because they didn’t even try and it’s fun to make fun of. This is just disappointment stretched out across seven hours instead of speedrun in 90 minutes. The skeleton of the book (mostly) remains intact and to all those who keep saying “at least it’s not the movie,” you’re right. Enjoy.

#pjo series #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #review #pjo

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electronikmilk · 1 year ago

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Seeing God

i'm feral and absolutely sick to death of looking at this, so i'm finally posting it.

Manuel Aringarosa x f reader

Rating: 18+

Contains: Spanking, submissive Manuel, dom reader, also sex worker reader.

You sipped your coffee as you peeked through the curtains of your living room window. It was late, and most other lights in the houses along the street had gone out. You lived on the outskirts of Amsterdam in a little house on a quiet street, some twenty minutes by car from the city's hustle, bustle, and neon glow.

Typically, you would be tucked away in bed, too, but you had a client scheduled for an incall session, and he wanted it done late at night for privacy. You understood this. Many others requested the same thing when they contacted you.

This one, however, was...peculiar.

Bishop Manuel Aringarosa of Opus Dei was now on your list of clients.

You closed the curtain and went to nestle into the recliner by the loveseat, telling your Alexa to put on your Spotify playlist. You listened to Johnette Napolitano's husky voice begin to sing Mexican Moon. You enjoyed the seductive strumming of thick guitar strings as you reminisced about how Manuel ended up in your lap.

Thinking of you underneath the Mexican moonlight...

Most of your clients emailed or texted you, but Manuel called out of the blue, nervously asking if booking him for an appointment was possible. He was polite and had a soothing voice with traces of a Spanish accent that you liked immediately. He made it clear right off the bat that he was, in fact, the head of Opus Dei in New York. You knew the order well, as did everyone else since they were ubiquitous and powerful. His honesty impressed you, but you had reservations about taking a man of the cloth as a client, especially someone of his rank.

"I'm sorry, Father Aringarosa." You had told him, "But I don't think I can do that. Might I suggest the--"

"Señorita, por favor..." His voice strained with emotion before he cleared his throat, "My apologies, miss. But I...I need your help. Please hear me out. Just a few minutes of your time, please."

Caught off guard, you went quiet. You could hear him sniffling on the other end. Was he crying? Feeling sorry for him, you said, "Alright, Father. Go on. Take your time."

Aringarosa told you everything in a lengthy story that you listened to intently. He had confided in you that he had desires that had started to cloud his thoughts. Typical of a man of God, he described his interest as horrendously sinful. They had also become impossible to ignore in the past months, even with the comfort of praying and penance. You had asked what it was, and he hesitated to admit it. After some gentle coaxing and a long silence from Manuel, he said he wanted to see what it felt like to let go and give complete control to another person. But it was more than that; he wanted a living goddess to submit to. He wanted to be powerless and made to worship her by whatever means, even if it included him experiencing pain.

Manuel treated the call like a confessional. Saying he had always craved something like this, even before entering the priesthood and taking his vows of celibacy. Suppressing it was difficult, and the only remedy was to throw himself headfirst into his ambitions within the church. It worked like a charm, and it sat dormant for the better part of twenty years. He eventually took head office at Opis Dei, and from there, all power over the order was in his hands, and he wielded it well.

Despite his efforts, his desire to be powerless never entirely faded. It always lurked in the back of his mind, forced down but ready to bubble to the surface in solitude and his dreams. Undeterred, Manuel stubbornly told himself that he could manage it, that everything was fine, and went about his business.

Then, it exploded to the surface once he took up extended residence in Amsterdam.

The poor man, ashamed, admitted he visited the Red Light District the week he arrived (out of vestments, incognito, Manuel stressed). He claimed he didn't solicit any of the girls in the windows or wander into adult theatres or peep shows. But the temptation was there like a forbidden fruit beckoning Manuel to bite. Taste and know.

"There were plenty of girls I would have paid to do unholy things to me." He confessed quietly. "And if I could, I would've submitted to every one of them..."

He regretted setting foot in the district because it only enflamed the desire threefold, and by God did it burn. Day and night, it consumed him until he couldn't even be in the presence of the sisters and nuns he periodically came into contact with. The young novices, especially, drove him to the brink of flustered madness. Not fully covered like the cloistered nuns, he would feast upon the occasional glimpses of soft, girlish bangs and locks of wayward curls, the rounded curves of their calves exposed by their shorter skirts, their dainty hands, anything. He devoured it like a starving man. He would see himself kissing them in his mind, waiting upon them hand and foot, or allowing them to inflict pain so he may be rewarded and become their plaything. He saw himself without will, dignity, or purpose other than giving them pleasure.

And no matter how much he willed the wicked craving away, it would not go. Manuel couldn't escape it, not even when he prayed alone within the stony walls of the nearby cathedral for his evening devotions, where he thought safety would be assured. It was not. The holy objects around him, the altar, the bloodied Christ on the cross, and the eyes of the Virgin, did nothing to stave off his lust. Prayers faltered, then died on his lips as fantasies danced in his head. The rosary hanging uselessly in his hand, he would look at the altar and think about what it would be like to worship the marvelous curves of the girls he all but ogled upon it. He wondered what it would be like to be bent over it by them and whipped into absolute submission.

Thinking such thoughts in a holy place horrified him.

Manuel's voice wavered when he explained how he fled and threw himself onto his knees once in his apartment, praying to God for forgiveness and purification. He prayed for his thoughts to be taken away and purged, but no matter how much he invoked God, Jesus, Mary, and the saints, he felt they weren't listening and feared he was forsaken. And even in these prayers, it took everything he had to focus on his lamenting instead of succumbing to the intense lure of the Red Light District and the beautiful women that danced for his attention through the windows and doorways. The fruit, now candied, demanded consumption. His mouth watered for it, but he couldn't, absolutely couldn't, be seen on those streets again.

Manuel had to work up the courage to call when he found an online advertisement for your incall erotic services. He spent several evenings debating whether he should do it, his soul in shreds, longing for mending. The bishop almost begged you for help. He feared he would leave the order altogether if he didn't deal with his crisis. He needed to do it once. Just once. Money was no object. Hell, you didn't even have to have fuck him if you didn't want to. He was desperate.

You felt overwhelming sympathy for the man, so you booked a session for the following week. After briefly discussing what was wanted and your set of rules and requirements, Manuel said he would bring everything he needed to act out his fantasy; you only needed to provide the atmosphere and a small table strong enough to hold your weight.

Manuel showed up to his arrangement out of his vestments, no cassock, no priest's collar, not even a crucifix, just a sweater, pressed slacks, and dress shoes. Incognito. As you should have suspected. A black Volkswagen Beetle was parked a block down the road.

He was a handsome, somewhat portly man somewhere in his fifties. He had thick eyebrows and large brown eyes with an intense gaze. He was tall, too, reaching over six feet, appropriately imposing for a bigwig bishop. But despite his height and age, he seemed anxious standing outside your door, tugging at the collar of his sweater, and not looking you in the eye as he greeted you. He held a leather suitcase at his side.

"Hello, Father." You said, smiling kindly, "Come in. How was your drive? Not too hard to find the place, I hope?"

"Please, 'Manuel' is fine, my dear." He said, stepping into your home and taking off his shoes. "And the drive was fine, thank you. No trouble at all."

"Oh, good. Would you like some tea? Or coffee? I have a lovely cream of Earl Grey that I'm trying. I can make you a cup if you like."

"No. No, thank you." He replied, then took a deep breath to calm himself, "I'm sorry to be rude, but may we just--ah, may we just get to it? I don't want to take up too much of your time."

"Of course. Please, come with me." You nodded, then gestured for Manuel to follow you into the finished basement, where you converted the unused study into a playroom. Manuel grabbed his suitcase and followed you down the carpeted stairs into a sizeable lilac-colored space. Black and white photos of naked, bound men and women hung on the walls, framed in intricately carved frames like fine art. Erotic tapestries draped parts of the wall, adding to the luxurious feel with a purple rug. An array of tools used for sensual torture, whips, paddles, ball gags, leather masks, and other toys hung on the far wall. Then there was your prized possession sitting front and center: a five-foot-tall alabaster statue of a nude woman with long flowing hair cascading down her back—a nondescript goddess figure with open arms and a calm face with closed eyes. An art-collecting client gave her to you quite a few years ago. She was cute, and you were fond of her.

As discussed, you had pushed a coffee table into the center of the room, covering it with a white tablecloth like an altar. You situated the table facing the statue so it looked like the figure would be presiding over the session. Manuel had said he wanted the space set up like a temple, so you dimmed the lights and lit pillar candles around the room. Though the candles and lighting alone had seemed enough, you went further and took fake ivy and flowers to decorate your statue. You draped the ivy around her body, then twisted the stems of the flowers together to make a crown and placed it on her head. To finish off, you plucked the heads off the extra flowers and sprinkled them around the base at her feet, just for extra oomph.

The statue's serene face seemed almost alive in the candlelight, like she was merely meditating. Looking at her, you were happy with your setup.

"I don't have many religious things in my supplies, so I had to make do with what I had. I hope you don't mind." You said. When Manuel entered the room, he looked at the tools, the photos, and the statue, staring at her in amazement.

"No. It's perfect, thank you. Quite beyond my expectations, actually..." He said, his voice quivering for a second. His head tilted then, and he seemed to think, suddenly looking uncomfortable, troubled. You noticed he gripped the suitcase handle tight, his knuckles becoming white. His eyes became a little glassy, and you worried he might start crying.

"Are you alright?" You inquired and reached out to touch his arm. As soon as your fingers made contact, he jumped, snapping out of his thoughts. He nodded.

"Yes..." He said, then composed himself by clearing his throat and putting down his suitcase. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I-I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Don't apologize, hon. I understand. But don't worry, alright? I'll take good care of you, and if you want to stop, use the safeword like we discussed." You said, squeezing Manuel's arm. Manuel didn't speak for a moment, then he whispered.

"Do you believe in God? In sin?"

You blinked at him, taken aback.

No, absolutely not, you wanted to say. You never believed in the stuff. It was too limiting. Too old-fashioned and arbitrary. Why subject yourself to a religion and a god that frowns upon everything you ever do, no matter how harmless it is to others? Especially in such issues as sex, gender, and love.

But you thought that conversation hardly mattered at the moment, and it appeared Manuel wasn't looking for your view on the matter anyway. You could see him shaking. He was scared, probably stalling, and it saddened you to see it. It must have been hard for him to lead such a life as a holy man when he had this craving that lifelong tradition taught him was disgusting, even evil, when it wasn't. While his position in the church and lifelong dedication to scripture and faith were admirable to a degree, the fact of the matter was that he was just a man. A man with desires. Natural, human desires that were far from evil. And it must have been challenging to put everything aside to indulge in those cravings. The weight of the guilt must have been excruciating.

"No. I believe in human nature." You said softly. "But does that really matter right now? I'm not here to judge you, Manuel. It's not my place. And after everything you told me, I just want to help you. I don't think what you want to do is sinful. It's just sex, that's all. It's not hurting anyone, and we're both consenting, right? So I think it's all disco."

Manuel gave a pained smile and nodded. "Thank you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I just..." He trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

"It's alright. Just relax and enjoy yourself, okay?"

"Alright."

"Are you sure you still want to do this?" You asked.

"Yes." He said, wiping the corners of his eyes. He sighed and slumped his shoulders in what looked like defeat. Surrender. You felt like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. You knew the words anyway; you could see it in his eyes. I need to.

You nodded at him tenderly. Then he opened the suitcase to hand you a mantilla-style veil made from red lace. He had instructed you to wear it with whatever you wanted but no shoes so that he may kiss your feet.

"If you don't mind, please change in the other room and come back in. I want to get everything just right."

"No problem." You winked and turned to leave the room.

You entered the bathroom and stripped down to nothing except black crotchless panties and thigh-high stockings. It delighted you that you could choose whatever you wanted. It was a rare occurrence since many clients were very particular about play attire.

Manuel didn't ask for much when you asked what he wanted to enjoy during his session, just no shoes, the environment, and your power to dominate him. Otherwise, you could do whatever you wanted, a simple man with simple needs.

You selected a black PVC sheath dress with full-length sleeves that you purchased last week. It was skin-tight, and you had to smooth it until it was cleaving to you like a glove. Luckily, it was extremely short, barely covering your ass so you could move freely. It was also lowcut with the closing zipper in the front, and you left it slightly open at the top for just a glimpse of cleavage.

As you got ready, you started to smell incense smoke from the other room. It smelled familiar, something your old roommate used to burn back in university, earthy, sweet, and soft. Frankincense. Holy smoke, they liked to call it. You smiled, enjoying the smell as you beheld your reflection when you pinned the veil Manuel gave you into your hair, and you couldn't help but feel prideful in your appearance. You hoped Manuel would like it, too, as you exited the bathroom and re-entered the playroom.

Ghostly wisps of fragrant smoke swirled around the room, dancing around the flickering candle flames, creating an illusion of holiness. A temple of sacred sex and play. Now, that was a church meeting worth going to.

Manuel knelt on the floor, as far away from the objects and table as possible, clasping a rosary. He spoke his prayers softly under his breath. He didn't notice you come in, and you thought it would be rude to interrupt, so you watched him as he prayed. A bottle of wine was on the table, and a gold engraved chalice was beside it, gleaming bright even in the dim light. Beside him was a red heart-shaped dish with the smoldering resin, which you thought looked out of place and fit right in. It was almost funny seeing it used by someone like him. Finally, after a few moments of silent praying, he crossed himself.

"In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti..." He whispered, kissed the crucifix, and put it into his pocket.

"Manuel?"

Manuel's head snapped up. As soon as his eyes landed on you, they widened, and he took a sharp breath, immediately averting his gaze. The tips of his ears turned red.

"Manuel, are you ready?" You asked, approaching the table.

"Yes..." Manuel whispered and started to rise. At that instant, you shifted into professional mode.

"No." You said firmly and sat upon the altar. "You stay on your knees. And yes, what? Is that any way to address me?"

He froze momentarily, then went back onto his knees without protest.

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"You are to address me as 'my Lady' and obey my every word when you're in this room."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Good boy," you smiled and beckoned him over, opening your legs slightly to give him a peak of your sex. Manuel bit his lip, swallowing thickly. "Come to me. Greet me properly."

Manuel blushed but obeyed, crawling over and stopping at your feet. You lifted your foot, and Manuel leaned down and kissed it. He did it slowly, seeming to enjoy the action despite his shyness.

He pressed his lips to the top of your foot and the tips of your toes. They were tender, cautious pecks that bordered on hesitation, though he didn't stop.

"Aw, what a darling you are." You cooed. You reached down to caress the back of Manuel's neck. "Such a sweetie..."

He pressed his lips harder, more fervently at your touch and words, letting out quiet moans.

His shoulders relaxed, and he allowed himself to yield. He whispered between kisses now, silent praises that you couldn't quite hear.

His tongue darted out, licking your toes, and then he sucked them through the stocking. You giggled at the sensation of the tongue tickling you and let him continue until he dared to bring his lips up to your shin.

"Enough." You said, putting your foot back down. Manuel tried to follow it, but you leaned over and gripped his thick, dark hair. He winced as you tugged his head back up. "No, no, no, you do as I tell you. I'm your mistress and goddess now. You have no will here, just like you wanted, and I expect you to be a good slave. Do you understand?"

Manuel only whimpered and nodded in response, his eyes looking at you, half-lidded, unblinking, and clouded with lust. You let go of his hair and told him to kneel up. He did so immediately, keeping his arm at his sides. Excellent position, you thought. Already, his arousal was evident. His erection was straining against the material of his pants, standing at full attention. Good response, too.

"Repeat what I just said to you." You commanded.

Manuel shook, and his lips pressed together. He said nothing, and you frowned in disapproval. His cheeks burned pink, and his breath hitched under your gaze. Then, suddenly, you slapped his face hard enough to sting and get his attention. He gasped and looked a bit shocked. His erection, on the other hand, was stiffer than ever.

"Speak, Manuel. Answer me." You said, taking firm hold of his chin. He seemed to be on the verge of an outburst, barely containing his squirming as he finally whispered,

"Y-you're my mistress, my goddess...I have no will. And I will be a good slave for you."

You pinched his cheek, "Good boy."

Satisfied with his bodily response and knowing he was okay to continue, you gestured for Manuel to rise.

"Stand up and take off your clothes. All of them."

The blush on Manuel's face deepened as he stood, backed up, and pulled off his sweater, and there was his bare chest. Cute nipples, perhaps a little pale, but you could easily give them some color. You smiled at the prospect of it.

He had a soft, rounded belly, though he was pretty solid in the arms and broad in the shoulders. Combined with his height, you imagined he could throw you aside and overpower you without much effort.

You felt a rush of excitement commanding this man. And making him worship you made your sex stir.

Now his pants were down, and he was pulling off his socks. He hesitated briefly with his boxers, his fingers trembling at the waistband. He looked so virginal. The flush in his cheeks was lovely, and you wanted to kiss that rosy face.

"Boxers, too." You said, making sure to sound monotone. It wasn't good to be kind to him too soon. He had to earn it. "I want to see what you look like."

He glanced at you timidly before obeying. His cock stood rigid, surprisingly big and thick, the head shining and turning red. It was a decent organ, one of the nicer ones you've seen.

You stood as well and took a step towards him. You thought you saw him shrink back, saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. It immediately faded when you reached out and touched his chest, running the tips of your fingers down until you reached his stomach. You pressed both your hands into it, feeling the warm softness of his flesh, kneading it, enjoying it. Manuel sucked in a breath. His cock jumped when you pinched and squeezed him for your delight. You smiled, watching his attractive features work to express his bliss.

When you moved on and touched the head of his cock with your thumb and forefinger, Manuel gasped and involuntarily drew back.

"Hold still." You said, glancing up at him. "And put your hands behind your back. I want to examine you."

"Yes, my Lady," Manuel said meekly and obeyed. His head lowered, and he couldn't meet your gaze. He sighed and moaned when you took his cock in your hand and stroked it slowly from tip to base, feeling it harden even more in your grasp. His hips jerked, and his sighs became gasping when you griped a bit harder and stroked him faster. All the while, you watched his face. His eyes closed, and his mouth fell slightly open. You wondered if this was what rapture looked like, and you felt a jolt of pleasure seeing it.

After a moment of teasing, his hips began to rock against your hand, his breathing heavier, on the verge of panting.

You felt his cock twitch and become wet with precum.

"My Lady..." He gasped. "I-I'm close..."

You stopped stroking and allotted a series of spanks to his chest, striking his nipples. The slaps were hard and loud, and Manuel cried out.

"Not yet," You crooned and pinched his nipples, pulled them, tweaked them until he exclaimed in deep moaning breaths, "You can only come when I tell you to."

He begged with his body and a groan but tried to control it. His back arched, and his entire frame writhed. His lips spilled quiet pleas between moans. He gasped when you released his nipples and flicked them. His nipples awakened, becoming hard like bits of stone there, and you smiled, circling your thumbs around them. It drew enticing grunts from Manuel, each accompanied by a thrust of his hips.

His eyes opened once he caught his breath and looked at you, showing complete submission in their softness.

"Ooh, that was quick, wasn't it," You teased, "you're like a virgin, almost coming before we even get started."

He turned red, and you giggled.

"You're cute," you said, your hands returning to rub his stomach, "I bet those nuns you talked about want to fuck you, dominate you like I am right now. And I bet you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? You'd obey them like a little puppy."

"Yes, my Lady. I would." Manuel said without pride, without dignity. "I'd be devoted to them."

"You show your devotion to me first." You said sternly and continued to fondle his softness while you pondered what he could do for you. You recalled how he described being bent over and whipped over the church altar, and it sounded like a pretty good idea. You took your hands away from Manuel. His dreamy eyes watched you, waiting for your word.

You stepped aside, pointing at the table.

"Bend over your goddess's altar."

As Manuel went to obey, his hands shaking uncontrollably, you continued in a calm but steely voice:

"I'm going spank you, Manuel. And I'm going to do it hard. But I don't think you'll mind one bit. After all, that's exactly what you want, right?"

On his knees and leaning over the table, Manuel nodded his head.

"Do you want my hand or the paddle? I'll be nice and give you the choice."

"Your hand, my Lady, please." He said without thought. You gave an approving hum.

"Good pick. I'm glad you're making this fun for me. I love working with my hands."

Manuel shivered when you got down on your knees behind him. You ran your hand over his broad back, prodding around his hips and thighs. The flesh there was soft, too. You grinned, hearing him exclaim as you grabbed his buttocks with both hands and squeezed and kneaded it like you did his belly.

"You're so soft." You said, then slapped his ass playfully, "I like it. I believe that bodies like yours are the best to play with. You ought to be proud of that, you know."

"Thank you, my Lady." Manuel whispered, barely audible, "I'm happy I can please you."

"Oh, you're gonna have to speak up, pet. Or I won't be able to hear you over this." You reeled back your hand and slapped his right buttock hard, catching him by surprise. The force of the slap caused his hips to sway, and a cry flew from his mouth before he could stop it. The handmark was white at first, then bright red.

You gave the mark a barrage of weaker slaps that caused Manuel to gasp and cry out as if you used full force. When you switched sides, you spanked him hard again. Manuel cried aloud and writhed on the table. He clutched at the cloth and tried to silence himself by burying his face in the crook of his arm. It proved futile, his exclamations growing louder with each continuing strike, a whine or two peppered in like a delectable seasoning.

You looked up at your goddess statue while you spanked Manuel. She looked so alive then, and it was a shame she wasn't getting any attention.

You then stopped and massaged Manuel's sore flesh. His entire body shivered, and his hips undulated in a vain attempt to gain some stimulation. His breathing was ragged, and he whimpered as soon as your blows ceased.

"Head up, Manuel," You said, "Look up at my statue. Take her in."

Manuel immediately obeyed. You heard him sniffle, and his hand went to wipe his face.

"She's pretty, isn't she."

"Yes, my Lady." His voice was uneven and shaky. "She's beautiful."

"I think she might be a bit lonely, wouldn't you agree?" You took your hands away and stood, "Go and kiss her. Kiss her mouth, then her breasts and feet. Then I want you to fetch me the flowers on the floor. Use your teeth to bring them."

"Y-yes, my Lady." He said and went into his hands and knees, commencing his task.

You leaned down to give his bottom a quick slap as he went and laughed when he yelped and scurried towards the statue.

You rounded the table and sat upon it, facing Manuel. You took the bottle of wine and chalice, opened the twist top, and filled your cup high. It was red and sweet-smelling, and you thought of sacramental wine when you took a sip. You licked your lips. The blood of Christ tasted expensive.

At the feet of the statue, Manuel knelt up to press his lips to the cold, stony mouth twice before descending to the breasts. He kissed each nipple gently. You felt a warmth rise in your breasts when you heard him moan and caught his hips twitching at the act. Finally, he kissed her feet. Despite his stature, he lowered himself slowly and quietly with the gracefulness of a cat. With his face flaming, Manuel took a flower between his teeth and turned to you. You moved back and spread your legs, tapping the area in front of your sex.

"Meow," You called to him, "Here, kitty, kitty,"

Manuel came to you with his head bowed and dropped the flower on the table. His large brown eyes flicked up at you as he kissed your knee, seeking your approval with a questioning look. You beamed at him for being so good. Kindness was now due.

You reached down, cupped his cheek, and lovingly stroked it with your thumb. Manuel took your affection with a shuddering sigh.

"You're doing good, Manuel." You said and kissed his head. His hair was soft against your face and smelled clean with the fading spice of cologne.

"Thank you, my Lady." He kissed your knee again.

"Alright, off you go." You ruffled his hair. Manuel nodded, then turned to bring another blossom. His bottom was still red, and you watched it, taking another sip of wine.

Manuel placed the flowers before you one by one, each time planting a devoted kiss on your inner thigh, coming closer and closer to your sex. But before he could kiss your pubis, you brushed the flowerheads onto the floor and placed the wine bottle between your legs. Now blocked, Manuel sat on his heels. He pressed his lips to the bottle almost desperately, breathing hard, lapping his tongue on the glass, and mewling at the denial.

You caressed the bottle's neck in long, slow strokes like it was a phallus, looking down at him, a cheeky smile playing on your lips. Manuel pulled back and brought his gaze to you once he composed himself. His lips were wet with saliva. The cupid's bow was wonderfully curved, and the just as shapely bottom lip trembled. Lips weren't always something you often noticed in men, but now that you saw them, you loved them.

You touched your fingers to the mouth, pinching the plump lips and probing between them with your thumb.

Manuel opened his mouth, letting you stick your thumb into it. When the eager lips closed on it, you withdrew it slightly, then pushed it back in. You did this repeatedly until Manuel started to moan and suck it. Your lust rose in pitch, feeling his tongue swirl around your thumb, and your nipples were hardening beneath the tight material of your dress.

You let a sigh pass your lips, and before you could get lost in the moment, you withdrew your thumb from Manuel's mouth completely. His breathing was uneven, and his cock twitched between his trembling, parted legs. You rubbed your thumb against his lips.

"Such a hungry little mouth," You said, taking your hand away and pushing the bottle towards him, "Have those pretty lips ever sucked a cock before?"

Manuel shook his head. He bit his lip, and it appeared he already knew what you would command.

"Do you want to please your goddess?"

"Yes."

"Then you know what to do." You said, lifting the chalice to continue sipping the wine you had poured, "Do it slowly, for my pleasure."

Manuel breathed deep, then licked the length of the bottle's neck before he took it into his mouth. He caressed it with his tongue and lips awkwardly. At first, Manuel didn't take the glass shaft very far. He struggled, gagging and coughing when he attempted to take it further at your urging. He gasped but didn't pull away from the bottle, continuing to try to suck it after taking a gulp of air.

"Breathe through your nose." You said, petting his hair, and he stopped retching once he followed your instructions, "There you go."

Soon, Manuel fell into a rhythm, his head bobbing up and down on it. Every once in a while, he probed the bottle's mouth with his tongue, teasing it for you, then sucking it again with sensual enthusiasm.

All you did was take up the chalice and drink, lust curling tight inside you. You felt your sex grow wet upon hearing Manuel groan around the bottle. His hips stirred, but his hands didn't dare touch you or himself. The submissive bishop stopped when you said that was enough.

But Manuel didn't wait for you to give him another order. Instead, he threw his arms around you and kissed all over your chest, their presence lingering and frantic. His fingers dug into you, all but clawing as he kissed the tops of your breasts, licking at the pillowy flesh. You gasped when a hand pawed at your breast and squeezed hard.

Manuel ascended to your neck and jaw at your utterance, kissing and nuzzling his face there. His breath was hot, panting. The feeling of his mouth kissing and suckling the skin sent shivers up your spine. You arched your back and set down your cup, narrowly avoiding spilling it.

"Manuel-!" You exclaimed. You grasped at his hands, meaning to calm him. His entire body stiffened when you touched him. He let out an anguished sound and ripped himself away, bursting into tears. However, instead of breaking the fantasy, he hurried to kiss the hem of your veil in reverence.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Manuel whispered into the fabric, into your ear, "Please punish me, my Lady. I deserve it. Please, please..."

You froze, stunned by what just happened.

Again, Manuel didn't dare touch you; he only clutched the veil, wracked by quiet, hiccuping sobs. You felt a tear drop onto your chest and another, and for a moment, you had no idea what to do or say. The large man trembled before you like a lost child, sniffling, his shoulders drooping low. It unleashed an overwhelming sense of pity in you. Poor thing.

"Manuel..." You said, and slowly, very slowly, you took him by the shoulders and had him sit on his heels. Then, you put the wine bottle aside. His sobbing had calmed once you had him kneeling.

The look on his face betrayed his silence, his cheeks stained with tears that continued flowing, and his beautiful eyes twinkled in the warm candlelight—two deep pools of misery and adoration.

You brushed his hair from his forehead, then cupped his cheek, which he leaned into, shaking.

"Do you want to keep going?" You asked gently. "Do you remember the safeword?"

"Yes," He sniffled. Then, without skipping a beat, "Please. Don't stop."

His deep voice was soft, without doubt or fear. His complete submission shifted into complete trust, and it felt good to have it.

Manuel was so consumed with red-hot desire that he once again spoke, this time with great eagerness, "Slap me again, my Lady. Like earlier." He blushed at his bold request, then bowed his head in apology.

You laughed lightheartedly.

"You like it rough, huh? Let me see your cheek then."

He obeyed and braced for your strike. You pulled back your hand and slapped him hard. The resounding crack jerked his head slightly, and he hissed in pain mixed with pleasure. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You struck him again without warning, and he whimpered. You took it further by grabbing a fistful of his hair, pulling him to kneel up, and kissing him hard. You bit his lip. He gasped, and when his mouth opened, you stabbed your tongue into it. He returned the kiss, his lips so soft and velvety against yours.

He moaned loudly when you yanked his head back and kissed his Adam's apple and jaw. You bit at him, licked at the salty skin, then smacked his chest and belly until he was pink. Manuel writhed, imploring you for more.

"Harder! Please!"

But you let go of his hair and sat him on his heels again. It surprised you how much he enjoyed the pain, how he was greedy for it. If he wanted it harder, you were happy to oblige. You looked over at the wall, eyeing the paddles and thinking about which one to use.

Manuel protested, and you shooshed him, giving him a sharp look.

"It's not over yet. Be patient." You said curtly and frowned, though you felt no anger. It was all for show. Manuel bit his lip and nodded, looking like a scolded puppy anyway.

You took up the chalice, filled it to the top, and held it to his lips.

"Here. Drink. We'll keep going in a second." You said, petting his hair. Manuel nodded, and after he drank his fill, just a couple of gulps, you gripped his chin and kept his mouth to the chalice when he tried to move away. "Nope. Keep drinking. Don't stop until there isn't a drop left."

You tiled the chalice higher and higher, at the same time leaning Manuel's head back. Despite Manuel swallowing as much as he could, the liquid overflowed, spilling down the corners of his mouth and over his chin. Wine dribbled down his neck, chest, and belly, streaking like blood. He continued to drink as much as possible, and you only released him when the chalice was empty. You tossed it aside. Manuel coughed and gasped for air. He thanked you, wiping his mouth, then waited for your command obediently. Much of the wine got onto the rug, but that didn't bother you. The wet vacuum would get that right out once the session was over. In the meantime, you ordered Manuel to crawl over to the wall and fetch you a leather heart-shaped paddle.

Manuel trembled in either fear or excitement when he delivered the paddle and leaned down to kiss your feet. You received them, lifting your foot to his lips. They were sweet and feverish, becoming even more so when you tested the paddle against your palm. Perfect.

"Lay on your back." You ordered.

Manuel did so with a nod and a "Yes, my Lady" and spread out on his back. His body stretched to its full length, though he did attempt to keep his legs bent until you cracked the paddle against your palm again and gave him a sharp order to spread them. You got up and moved over to him, relishing how his eyes held yours and his lips quivered.

You stepped over and mounted him, deliberately straddling his hips. His entire body shivered under you as soon as you moved to adjust comfortably. You wondered if he felt how wet your sex was, how hot it was because of him, or if he was too lost in his passion to notice. Manuel bit his lip hard and kept his hands to his sides. The flesh on his chest was soft, too, making it ideal for you to do what you pleased. You set down the paddle, reached down with both hands, grabbed, and played with his pectorals like you would a pair of breasts. Manuel struggled to contain himself and winced when you squeezed tight.

"Lovely. It's a shame I didn't break out any of my nipple clamps." You purred, still playing with the flesh, "They'd make you look so pretty."

You took hold of and stretched both nipples and snapped them, then did it again. You played with them and rubbed them. Manuel couldn't keep still under you or stay quiet. His hips squirmed, rocking slightly without meaning to, sucking in a shuddering breath and unleashing a whispered string of "fuck"s as you tweaked and squeezed them.

"Do you like that?" You asked, taking hold of his nipples and twisting them almost cruelly. Manuel arched his back and groaned in pleasure.

"Yes, my Lady!" He cried.

You laughed and released him.

"I didn't think you would be such a slut for pain. Nothing wrong with that, though. It's very endearing."

You took up the paddle and showed it to him.

"So, what do you think, Manuel? Is this fine enough to inflict the pain you want so badly?"

Manuel kissed it as an answer.

You smiled and brought down the paddle on his chest in a series of loud spanks. First, you struck one side, then the other. Manuel gasped and cried aloud upon impact, unable to contain it. His chest bloomed a charming shade of pink, leaving marks vaguely shaped like hearts, much to your delight. His nipples hardened to knots, and his face tightened in pain. He struggled not to thrash by digging his fingers into the rug and throwing his head from side to side.

"Come on, Manuel, arch your back for me. I want your tits raised for the paddle." And on you spanked once Manuel obeyed, his chest flushing crimson and heaving as he gasped and cried.

You tormented him further by concentrating your blows to one side. At the same time, you bunched the flesh of the other pec and kneaded it roughly. Manuel grew louder, and his body twisted when you switched sides. His face was the perfect picture of anguish and ecstasy.

Then, he was undone when you paused and leaned down to suckle upon the abused nipples, rocking your hips against him as you did so. He cried against clenched teeth as you licked his nipple and bit it playfully. Manuel was in a frenzy when he let out a choked sob between desperate, keening moans. His hands clamped your shoulders, his back arching.

"Mango!" He wailed the safeword.

Immediately, you stopped and straightened. Manuel stayed on his back, shaking, eyes closed, his breath coming in ragged pants. His dark lashes were matted with tears. You wanted to lean down and taste them, but you refrained and rubbed his belly while waiting for him to recover, praising and soothing him. The skin was smooth and hot under your hands, and you bit your lips as you let your eyes wander over him. Beautiful, beautiful skin. You trailed your hand down and let it brush over the head of his cock.

Manuel's eyes, softened and glassy, opened with heavy lids and gave a faint, supplicating moan as he looked up at you.

You've been a wonderful pet this evening, Manuel." You said. "Do you want your goddess to reward you?"

Manuel hissed and moaned under you.

"Ohh, yes." His large hands gripped your thighs, "Yes, please."

You raked your fingernails along the shaft, lightly pinching the tip before taking it with a firm hand and stroking it. The long-awaited stimulation almost seemed too much for poor Manuel. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a throaty growl that quickly dissolved into a loud whimper. His hips moved to meet your strokes with the shamelessness of a whore. Powerful fingers dug into the tender flesh of your thighs, though it was not enough to hurt you. In fact, you liked it. Your lust pooled down to your groin, and Manuel's sensual moans and gasps made your nipples throb unbearably. It took a lot to resist the urge to fuck his brains out, but the condoms were upstairs, and retrieving them would spoil the mood. And you lived by a golden rule: no condom, no fun. So, no fun it was, at least for tonight.

You stopped stroking and slapped the organ, drawing out a surprised but pleasured cry.

"You're pretty well endowed," You said, massaging his balls now. "It's a shame I didn't bring any condoms down here since I changed my mind about fucking you. But we'll have to wait until next time, won't we?"

Manuel whined as if to lament this fact. He looked up at you, his gaze like a drunken man's. His hazy eyes lowered and lingered on your breasts. His hands moved to your waist, no doubt wanting to trail higher, and he whispered the word "please" over and over, like a mantra, staring at your chest all the while.

"Are they pretty?" You asked. You touched the zipper of your dress.

"Yes." He said, breathless. His hands squeezed at you. Amused by his desperation, you unzipped just enough to expose them.

"Suck on them." You said, pushing them out proudly.

Manuel bolted upright as soon as the words left your lips, and his mouth fixed over your right nipple hungrily, almost aggressively. His hands clawed at your back as he suckled, releasing deep moans against your skin. You shivered in pleasure. A small moan escaped your lips when Manuel latched upon your other breast, sucking just as hard.

Your body felt electrified and quickly brimmed with sensation. You sighed as Manuel nibbled at your nipple, kissed it, and licked it. His cock pulsed like a heartbeat against you, and you slipped your hand down to grip it again and stroke it. Your hand worked quickly this time, squeezing tight so a drop of precum dribbled from the tip, making the shaft slicker in your hand as you caressed him. Manuel pulled away from your chest and moaned aloud. You didn't slow your hand or stop, stimulating Manuel until his cries became hoarse and unmodulated.

He slipped his arms around you and pulled you close, though you could still work his shaft. His breaths came in short, frantic pants on your neck.

"Sí, sí," He moaned. "Fuck, yes."

Now intent on your task, you stroked him faster, enjoying how the warm fluid coated your fingers and palm.

"Come for me." You said. Manuel's whole body stiffened and clutched you close, crying out in ecstasy. His arms crushed you to his chest, and he buried his face between your breasts as the orgasm rolled through him. His cock convulsed in your grip, and semen erupted from it, spilling over your hand and onto his stomach. Manuel's voice broke at the height of passion, and his moans melted into whines, then whimpers as they ebbed away. His arms loosened around you, but he didn't let go, not even when he caught his breath. Instead, he sat still, sighing and nuzzling your chest, and then he slowly released you, looking drowsy as he stared at you. He smothered your face, neck, and shoulders with tender kisses, his lips whispering his gratitude. Honey dripped from his words, and you wished you could taste it. Or have him taste you; your sex was certainly ripe enough. But, forgoing the satisfaction of your lust, you accepted his sleepy affection in his afterglow, returning it by stroking his hair and kissing his forehead.

"I'm sorry about your rug." You heard him say. You looked over at the forgotten wine stains and laughed. It was kind laughter, coming light, and amused. It put Manuel at ease, and he laughed too.

"Don't worry. It's just wine. Easy to get out." You shook your head, smiling. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, of course I did." He said, kissing your breast. "You were wonderful."

"Good. Only the best for my clients. How about we go upstairs for a drink? You must be thirsty. Wine isn't much of a thirst quencher." You smiled, then gave his hair a cheerful tousle, "C'mon, I even have some kombucha if you like..."

You moved to climb off Manuel's lap, but he tightened his arms around you again.

"Can we..." He started to say but trailed off and blushed.

"Hm?" You inquired.

"Can we stay here?" He asked. "Just for a little bit? I don't think I want to leave just yet."

Your heart melted at his innocent request. You decided you liked this man and hoped your time with him satisfied his fixation, that he would stay on his path if he decided that was best for him. You hoped most of all that he would feel less shame for his human and very understandable desires.

Plus, it was always nice to book an affectionate client. You enjoyed cuddles, too.

"Of course." You beamed at him. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you close after taking the veil from your head to clean himself up.

You both stayed there for a while, embracing, with Manuel resting his head against your chest. He rocked you in his arms, occasionally asking little questions about your life. You answered honestly, and you felt safe doing so. Something about Manuel made you feel comfortable.

Half an hour later, the two of you finally decided to retire for the evening. After getting dressed and Manuel gathered his things, the two of you lingered at the door, wishing each other a good night.

Manuel seemed reluctant to leave still, stating that he wished he could stay longer for that cup of tea you offered, but, unfortunately, work beckoned him back home.

"Well," You said, "Maybe we can meet up again, yeah? It doesn't have to be an appointment or anything. We could sit and have coffee; maybe I can fix a nice lunch. Not to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty damn good quiche."

"That sounds very nice, actually," He said, chuckling. Then he took your hand and stroked it lovingly, "And I would love to see you again."

"Sounds like a date, then." You nodded.

Manuel finally turned to leave, strolling down the driveway until he turned on his heel, came back fast, and threw his arms around you. He kissed you for a long moment, long, luxurious kisses that you returned without restraint.

"So, I'll see you?" You asked when the kiss ended.

"I'll see you." He nodded.

After a final round of goodbyes, you went inside and watched his little black car sail down the darkened road through the living room window. You went to bed late that night, though you didn't fall asleep. You tossed and turned, bothered by lustful musings about Manuel that refused to stop until you slipped your fingers inside your hot sex. Recalling the size of his cock, you imagined him thrusting into you, slowly at first, then as the pleasure built, the images changed into frenzied fucking. You worked your fingers in an almost punishing rhythm to match, and when you came, you screamed his name, your starved sex pulsing around your fingers. After exhausting yourself, you finally fell into sleep's peaceful embrace, cuddling your pillow close.

All of that happened two months ago.

The last of your coffee was cold at the bottom of your cup when you came out of your recollection and looked at the clock—11:35 PM. You expected Manuel sometime soon, and you couldn't help but wonder what he desired for this session. It would be the sixth time you've booked him following the promised lunch date, during which the two of you talked for hours about each other, and the more conversation went on, the more you liked the holy man. He was just as sweet, polite, and passionate in the mundane as in the playroom, where he abandoned himself to complete servitude. He obeyed your every word and responded perfectly to every thrash and spank you dealt. He was a joy, and he became more and more adventurous each time. Manuel rarely opposed anything, giving you absolute control over the games you played. He endured a sound flogging while you role-played as an alluring whore nun; He scurried around on his hands and knees on a leash, barking like a dog on command; You edged him while bound with rope and blindfolded. He even showed a keen interest in pegging. However, you two had yet to indulge in that.

You raised from the recliner, placed your mug on the coffee table, and peeked through the curtains again. The moon was nearly full, hanging high and bright in the sky among the stars. They looked like shards of diamonds to you, cast upon inky velvet. You marveled at its beauty until a pair of headlights penetrated the darkness. You smiled, and your heart skipped when Manuel's little black Beetle pulled into your driveway.

You whirled towards the door, feeling the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

Then, the heaviness of the whole situation settled itself on your shoulders, and not for the first time. So many times, you contemplated your relationship with Manuel. Being the holy man he was, a familiar creeping thought wriggled in your head: Were you corrupting him? The idea was troubling, and the inevitable guilt flowed over you, thick and clinging like oil. You often felt somehow unclean, even though that wasn't what you believed. But you allowed what Manuel told you to wash you clean.

He called you not long after your first session, and his tone was merry and infectious, so different from when he first spoke to you. Manuel told you now that he acknowledged his desires; the difference in his life was like day and night. He could sleep well again, pray again, and tackle his work with renewed vigor and without distraction. It was like his despair disappeared that night, replaced not with guilt or self-loathing as he expected but with warmth and comfort like the arms of a Holy Mother.

"I know this isn't what you believe," He said, then went silent for a second before whispering, "But I think I was led to you to show me my humanity again. Maybe by Mary, perhaps another. Who the hell even knows anymore? Either way, blasphemy or not, it's taught me a lot, and it feels good to have no guilt for what I did." He sighed, "...Thank you for giving me a chance."

He sounded happy, so very, very happy.

Those words alone cleansed you as soap and water would. And just like that, guilt was such a ridiculous thing to feel.

A knock came at the door, and you went to answer it, humming a cheerful tune to yourself.

#Molina-verse #Manuel Aringarosa #the da vinci code #fanfiction #self insert #self shipping #lee's writing #smut #alfred molina #priest kink

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