Confessions of a Sinner

[BLACK BART]

*A closed thread for Imoen & I*

___________________________________________________


“Walk with me Father…or shall I call you Morgan?”

Trevor laughed at the uncomfortable look that flitted across the mans face as they paired off to stride under the multi colored branches slowly giving up their leaves…

“Tell me Morgan again about this young lady and why you think she is so perfect for MY program”

With the subject changed the shorter mans expression changed from nervous to greedy and he began almost eagerly in his tirade about the newest subject he was promoting.

“She’s meets nearly ALL of your criteria Professor she’s young, naïve and vulnerable, of legal age but barely, a first year student with no contacts or friends…estranged from her family and needing additional finances, her grades are good but not quite high enough to place her in the Universities advanced programs. Listening to her confessions has driven even myself to periodically masturbating over the pictures I pilfered from the administrations files.”

Trevor grimaced as Morgan offered proof in the form of the photograph bearing a stained likeness of an innocent pair of blue eyes staring out from under blond locks…the tight blouse she was wearing showing her mature curves in stark contrast to her innocent features.

“This weekend is a long one…Why don’t you offer her a chance to make some cash and meet her concerned counselor at the same time. Play up on how much the Staff is concerned about her and wanting to help her while you give her a ride to my home by the accolades…”

“How long will she be staying…I mean what should I tell her if she asks?”

The priests face showed his obvious desires in wanting to join in on the party and Trevor laughed again…

“Just drop her off and promise I’ll give her a ride back when we’re finished Father…you’ll get your usual donation in the offering plates.”

They parted and Trevor slid his long leg over the tank of the waiting motorbike, thumbing the engine to life and smiling at the loud rumble of the twin pipes before he tore off down the asphalt topped lanes with the picture tucked into the back pocket of his faded jeans…

“Have her say an extra half dozen Hail Marie’s Father…it won’t prepare her for what’s going to happen but it might make her feel…better about the man that set her up.”

 

[Imoen]

Camille Gentry

Morgan's photograph:
http://i42.photobucket.com/albums/e312/myrpcharacters/Camille_Polaroid.jpg

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Camille awoke groaning. Her hands lifted to her head, the heels pressed against her eyelids in an effort to keep them from exploding. “Godddddddd....what was I drinking last night?”

“Jägerbombs.”

Camille turned toward the muffled voice and winced, regretting the movement of her head. A ever so slightly familiar masculine face peeked out from beneath a pillow.

“Oh yeahhh... Jägerbombs. That’s right. I remember now.. Where am I?” She queried, rising careful up on her elbows, squinting around the dim, cluttered bedroom.

The guy chuckled as he lifted his head, leaning over and nipping her shoulder playfully as his hand began to wander along the smooth skin of her naked hip. “You’re at my place, doll.”

“And you are.... Jimmy??”

The chuckle worked its way to an outright guffaw of laughter. “Close but no cigar. Jamie. Man, you’re gonna have to lay off the Jäger, babes. They fuck with your head too much.”

Finally the memories of last night came rolling slowing back into Camille’s consciousness. The party. The music. The drinking. The fun. The flirting. The fucking. Oh yeahhhhh, Jamie. A slow smile spread across her lips as she turned to him, laying her body over his as she lowered her mouth over his and kissed him deeply, throughly. He reached for her as she crawled off the bed and wandered around the room, gathering her clothes.

“Hey! .. Where are you going?” He asked as he sat up in bed, brushing long locks of dark brown hair of his eyes. Camille glanced back at him over her shoulder as she tugged her bondage pants up over her hips. God, he was a tempting sight. Sleep still lingered and softened the hard lines of his angular face. Tangled blankets curled around his lap, his chest smooth and cut, decorated with various tattoos and nipple piercing. Those weren’t the only ones he had either, she thought as her gaze dropped, grinning at the memory of the fun she’d had.

“Confession.” She replied casually as she buttoned her top.

“Confession?!?!” He fell back against the bed laughing, his eyes wet with unshed tears of laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me?! After what we did last night?! You’re going to confess that to a priest?!” He sat back up, the incredulous expression on his face comical.

Camille just shrugged and smiled. Her face taking on that angelic innocent expression that attracted him to her in the first place. “It makes me feel better about some of the stuff I do and the Father never complains. It’s not like I’m asking forgiveness for anything illegal. Well, not usually that is.” She joined in with Jamie’s burst of laughter. “That’s what he’s there for, so why shouldn’t I? Anyway, it’s got to be boring listening to the same ol’ sins day in day out. I’m sure it adds a bit of excitement to his day.”

“Man, I almost pity the guy.” Jamie laughed.. “Hell, forget pity.. Envy more like it. G’on this if you must. But you have to promise to hook up with me and let me know how it went.”

Camille nodded and kissed him lasciviously, letting her hands wander til his hazel eyes were smoky with desire once again. “I promise, babe.” she murmured against his ear, before turning and making her way out of his apartment without a backwards glance, knowing she’d most likely never be there or see Jamie again. She didn’t feel the least bit of guilt for lying to him. She’d just add that to her list of transgressions to report to Father Morgan. After all, he’s forgiven her for much worse.

 

[BLACK BART]

"Bless me father for I have sinned"




“For whoever shall dare to reveal a sin disclosed to him in the tribunal of penance we decree that he shall be not only deposed from the priestly office but that he shall also be sent into the confinement of a monastery to do perpetual penance”

Father Morgan sighed as the words rang through his head and he leaned against the ornately carved wood wall, breathing in deep to smell the young woman’s perfume mixed with a tinge of sex.

“How long has it been since you have last confessed...My Child?"

“You should know Father, it was with you…You know who this is, don’t you?”

Again he sighed. He KNEW who it was. Couldn’t get her OUT of his mind, she haunted his dreams when he slept and threatened to intrude while he was awake and going through his daily routines.

“The words are but part of the cleansing routine my child, and confession is given upon the promise of anonymity…your name is known by God and does not need to be spoken.”

“But if HE knows my name then why do I have to come here and confess my sins, HE should already know that too, right?”

It was an old routine by now. Camille would question every single thing he said before confession, analyze each statement as if disbelieving it until proven true, and then finally giving into the blatant obvious.

“He knows your name…I know your name…But it is up to you to come here to prove you wish forgiveness.”

“OK, so I’m here and I’ll confess, you’ll forgive and assign me penance, but who’s to know if I ever do them. I mean after I leave here what’s to prevent me from just saying I do the next time we meet?”

Father Morgan leaned forward, his gray eyes seeking her face through the delicate barrier of the confessionals grill; his interest peaked at the NEW question she had brought with her.

“Have you my child? Do you come here to confess and then once HE forgives you…walk away laughing at him?”

Somehow his question bothered her, her teasing voice was gone, and her words suddenly dead serious as she answered and he listened with his full attention.

“God NO, it was just a question. Even when you told me to say a thousand Hail Marie’s I did them, it kept me up 14 hours solid but I did them, just as you told me to.”

He fought down the urge to laugh; his eyes shining as a smile played across his lips and he leaned backwards and out of sight. His hand reached under his robe, the other pulling several tissues from the nearby box and he sighed, knowing what was about to cum.

“Perhaps you should begin my child, I’m listening…”

 

[Imoen]

Camille

“Perhaps you should begin my child, I’m listening…”

Camille took a deep cleansing breath, leaning her forehead lightly against the cool, smooth wood that framed the delicate grill. Spiky lashes lowered, masking alluring blue eyes as images of the past week fluttered the forefront of her consciousness. A small, playful smile lifted the corners of her lips as she heard the deep sigh of the priest. The anticipation of her confession quickened her blood and caused her fingers to curl. Short self-manicured nails dug small half moons into each tender palm as she imagined the expression on Father Morgan’s face.

It was a small parish, that of St. Peter’s. Small, yet proud of the small convent and orphanage that Camille had called home to for the majority of her young life. Father Morgan was fairly new to the church, having only been appointed as head priest of St. Peters in the last year. Camille was only acquainted with Father Morgan via the shadowy, whispered recesses of the churches’ confessional. She never attended mass anymore now that she was an adult and was no longer held accountable to the stringent rules and constant supervision of the nuns. She had yet to miss her weekly confessional though. Much of which was to alleviate her guilt at having strayed from the path she had been driven to so fervently by the pious sisters during her time at the orphanage, but also, for the sweet taboo of confessing such sins to such a devout man of faith.

“I woke up in a stranger’s bed this morning, Father.”

“At first I didn’t recall what had happened, but it all came back to me shortly.”

Camille paused, listening closely, her eyes still closed as she focused on the soft sound of the Father’s steady breathing.

“Continue my child...”

Camille smiled at the prompt, opening her eyes and leaning back, focusing on the shadowy figure beyond the grill, her fingertips gliding in a near caress along the edges of the smooth wood.

“I was bored, Father. I felt trapped, confined in my classroom. I needed to be free, so I ditched it. I slipped out, the teacher was none the wiser...”

“I decided to thumb a ride downtown... and yes, before you say anything, I know it’s dangerous, but I like dangerous, Father. I enjoy the little thrill it gives me. Taking that chance, throwing caution to the wind. All I want is a ride, right? That’s what I got, Father. A ride. A long, slow, tantalizing ride.” She said with a soft lilt of laughter in her voice.

“His name was Jamie. The guy that gave me the lift.” She explained, “Jamie drives a Harley. I didn’t give it a second thought as I lifted my leg up and over that monster. Have you ever rode a Harley, Father?” She asked, barely giving him time to answer. “You should. There’s nothing like having a sleek, rock hard, vibrating sexy machine like that between your legs. I nearly came right then and there.” She laughed, low and husky.

“My legs clenched this behemoth while my arms were wrapped around the waist of one of the sexiest guys I’ve seen in a while. I’m gonna get me one of those before it’s all over. The bike, not the guy.” She grinned, letting loose with another soft little laugh.

“Don’t get me wrong, Jamie’s a good guy. Or at least I think he is. He showed me such a good time. That counts, right? He bought me dinner, drinks... we danced, we laughed, we kissed. Oh man, he was such a good kisser! God I loved his mouth. Full sensuous lips. Long, talented tongue. He knew how much I loved riding on his bike. How much it turned me on. He laid me down across that bike, Father, with the engine running and went down on me with those luscious lips and that divinely agile tongue. Oh God, I could orgasm again at just the memory of it. He brought me again.. And again.” She paused, overcome and near breathless with the memories. “I went home with him, Father, and woke in his bed, sore from spending much of the night fucking in every imaginable position but completely and utterly sated.”

“It felt so good, Father.. I feel so good... Surely that can’t be a sin?”

 

[BLACK BART]

“It felt so good, Father.. I feel so good... Surely that can’t be a sin?”

"Father?"

Morgan was torn from his fantasy as Camille probed a second time and he sighed.

"Not just A sin my child, But three..."

"Three father, are you sure?"

Morgan shook his head as he wiped the proof of his own fantasy carefully off the robe, then pushed the sticky, wet cloths in a pocket.

~Was it his imagination had Camille giggled at his declaration of the multiple sins she had created?~


"The fifth, seventh and perhaps the tenth...Not honoring your parents...Adultery.... and coveting what another has..."

"But I never knew my parents so HOW could I dishonor them? And I'm SURE he wasn't married or at least he said so....though I do concede I would LOVE that bike of his, could we call it ONE and let it go at that, Father?"


Morgan sighed again and adjusted his robe, the scent of his salty spunk heavy in the confined quarters and he fervently prayed the little minx in the next booth didn't pick up on it...

"There is NO bargaining with the Lord, my child...No deals are made as far as the sins of man without heavy sacrifice."

"Sacrifice Father? I thought a few more rosaries and perhaps...attending a sermon of yours...or two?"

Again Morgan shook off the images that were still flitting about in his mind...where he was the horned beast and Camille was spread across the bike, her arms and legs tied as he plowed in and out of her with a gargantic prick as long as his forearm...

"I'm sorry my child...Your sins are LARGE and REAL, and it is time you pay pennance for them in the same scope you've made them..."

In his mind Camille was screaming....half with pain and the second with pain, as he pounded deeper and deeper into her womb...his spunk mixing with her blood as he seeded her...

"Father? What are you talking about? I've never HEARD of anything like you're hinting at...A greater punishment...though if you were thinking of administering that punishment yourself, perhaps?"

"God DAMN it."

Morgan cursed under his breath as he felt himself release for a second time, the thick liquid running down between his leg and the robe...

"Father?"

"I said God DAMNS no one, my child....It is up to those that sin to save themselves...and you've a long road to walk to escape pereditions path. I will pick you up in the rectories car this very night...be packed for an overnight stay....and then I will take you to the man that will save you...or damn you forever..."

"But FATHER MORGAN!"

Morgan sighed, he had found a way to end one torment and fulfill a contract he should never let himself be part of in the first place...

"I suggest you use your time wisely my child, shower.... and dress in something a little less....revealing...You will need all the modesty and self control you can muster in the next few days..."

 

[Imoen]

Camille left the confessional confused, fingers toying with the rosary she held her hand. Strangely, she felt a bit lost and disappointed at not having to say the usual required prayers for penance. Her boot heels reverberated throughout the sanctuary as she made her way to the doors, drawing a few disapproving stares from a couple of the older ladies from the community that visited St. Peters daily.

“A greater punishment?...”

The troubling words of Father Morgan echoed through her mind as she headed back to her dorm room. Head down, deep in thought she didn’t really didn’t notice Kelli til she ran right into her.

“Whoa girl!” The cute, petite redhead laughed. “You need to pay attention to where you’re going! I know I’m short but dang..”

Camille grinned at her best friend and roommate as she squatted down to pick up the books she’d effectively scattered.

“Sorry, Kel. I was lost in thought.”

“What’s wrong, Cami?” Kelli queried after taking a closer look at her friend’s expression. “Are you okay?”

Camille hugged the retrieved books to her chest as she fell into step with Kelli.

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” She sighed. “ I think I may have pushed Father Morgan too far this time.”

Kelli laughed and groaned. “Oh God.. Don’t tell me. You went to confess? What’s he having you do this time? Please don’t tell me. 24 hours of constant rosaries this time?”

Camille nudged her friend’s shoulder playfully and shook her head. “No. He said this would require a greater punishment. He said He’s picking me up tonight to take me to someone else to deal with me. I’m suppose to pack for an overnight stay. I guess that’s a good sign. I panicked at first thinking he was kicking me out completely.”

Kelli’s eyes rounded with surprise. “Oh man, what did you do to make him do that?”

Camille shot her friend a disgruntled look. “No more than I’ve done in the past.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’s just reached his breaking point with me or something. I don’t know.”

Kelli opened the door to their room and tossed her books on her desk. “Well, maybe this will be good for you. You know, put an end to your evil ways.” She teased as she wiggled her brows dramatically.

“Pffffffft.” Camille scoffed. “Yeah, riiiiiiiiiight. I guess I’ll find out tonight what it’s all about. Who knows, maybe it’ll be fun.” She grinned as she grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the shower.

Camille showered quickly, eager to see exactly where this evening would lead. She dressed as conservatively as she could manage, heeding the Father’s warning. She hesitated to push him any further than she already had. She sported a short, dark skirt and a short sleeved, fitted, pale blue button up. More modest that her usual dress, but still unable to mask her natural sensuality. Shouldering her hastily packed overnight bag, she called back a quick goodbye and wish me luck to Kelli as she went to wait at the entrance to the dorms for Father Morgan.

 

[BLACK BART]

Morgan arrived at the dorm entrance promptly on time.

Despite the amount of wine he had consumed he was sober, and though his hands shook when they were on the wheel of the car they were steady...enough...

"Come my child, we have a drive ahead of us and I have many things to share with you...and make sure you fully comprehend."

Yes, his hands were steady enough, but his voice wasn't, and though Camille asked he pretended not to hear her concerns as he looked straight ahead and drove.

"The man you are going to see is a very powerful man Camille, he is not only a Proffesor at the University, but over sees most of the commitees that control the money and faculty. He is also fully in charge of the grant money and who it is assigned to...do you understand? He is fully aware as to not only WHO you are, but just what you do...inside the classroom, and OUTSIDE."

He gunned the car around the first curve, suddenly eager to get to the massive house deep inside the woodlands...wanting to be rid of Camille...and get himself far, far away from what he knew was going to happen...

"It is important that you BEHAVE for him, there is MORE at stake then you realise. not only for YOU, but for everyone else on campus. Do you understand Camille???"

Oh yes, he wanted to be rid of her, the thought was strong in his mind as he tore around one switch back and then the next, his eyes dilated and seeing only the road in front of him.

His words must have reached the usually non-chalant woman next to him, for she repeated her question a third time in a voice that was almost yelling...

"When do I get to come back Father, when will you return to get me?"

They had arrived, and Father Morgan slid the car to front steps of the mansion, running around the car to open Camille's door and hand her bag...

"I'll return when Trevor tells me to, now be a good girl and go meet him, you don't ever want to keep HIM waiting."

Without further goodbyes Morgan ran back to the car and leaped into it, spinning the wheels in a blaze of speed as he tore away from the house...and the man inside...

"Father forgive me for what I have done"

 

[Imoen]

Camille was shaking like a leaf as she watched the taillights of Father Morgan’s car quickly disappear back down the long drive. She held her overnight back in a white-knuckled grip. She just couldn’t believe what was happening. Surely she had to have misunderstood Morgan. It almost sounded as if the Father expected her to... Nooooo. She not only gave herself a mental shake but a literal one as well.

“He wouldn’t ask that of me.” She thought to herself. “He’s a man of faith. I mean I know I’ve pushed him, but it was only for fun and games. He wouldn’t ask that of me, especially not to just throw me at a total stranger. He just wouldn’t... Would he?” A small sliver of doubt threatened to break the dam on her resolve to remain calm and not cry.

Blinking away the moisture from her eyes she turned, reluctantly pulling her gaze away from the now empty drive. Whoever lived her was definitely well off. The house, or should she say, mansion was freaking huge! Two curved staircases that lead to the front entrance surrounded a rather ornate fountain depicting what appeared to be a heavenly battle of winged angels and demons entwined. She climbed the staircase slowing, taking in the well manicured grounds and garden. Upon approaching the front doors she swallowed audibly, a brief moment of stark fear gripping her heart before she smothered it, squaring her shoulders with determination and steeling her resolve. She mentally empowered herself with her thoughts.

“I’m my own person. I’m a tough bitch. I do what I do because its what I want to do, and nobody, nobody can make me do ~anything~ I don’t want to do.”

She pressed the doorbell. Her chin was thrust out at a stubborn angle, letting anger of her situation replace what fear Father Morgan’s abandonment had caused. The door was answered rather quickly by a short, rotund, pleasant faced man, wiping his hands with what appeared to be a dishtowel.

“Good evening. May I help you?” He asked, a polite smile curving his lips.

“Are you Trevor?” Camille asked rudely, with a definite accusatory tone to her voice. Her eyes fixed on his with a fierce, heated glare.

The man laughed and shook his head. “No, miss. I am not, but I am his butler, steward, valet or you may call me Thomas. Whatever term or name you prefer.” His laughter dissolved into a good natured grin. “You must be Camille. He is expecting you. Please, allow me to take your bag. I’ll deposit it to your room and unpack if you would like. Please, follow me.”

Camille merely nodded and handed him her bag. She was at a complete loss for words, and followed him quietly along the hall. She had thought the house beautiful and ornate on the exterior, but the interior left her speechless, literally. Thomas opened a carved oak door and motioned for her to enter. She stepped forward into the room and came to a dead stop.

“I thought you said you were taking me to my room?” She questioned, confused.

“No, miss.” He shook his head, smiling politely as he stepped around her. “I only offered to take your bag to your room.” He teased, but became more serious as he noted the frightened young lady before him who was trying so desperately to hide it, but failing miserably. “The Professor wishes to meet with you here, in his Library. He uses it as his office as well. Please, have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly. He’s been detained by some private matters. Would you like a cup of tea?” He asked kindly.

Camille perched on the edge of one of the leather armchairs and nodded.

“Yes, please...” She replied quietly, her troubled thoughts whirling a thousand miles a minute as she gazed around the large bookcase lined room.

Thomas nodded and excused himself, returning shortly with the tea. Camille having begged off Thomas’ assistance, he excused himself once again as she poured herself a cup. Sitting back in the armchair, she allowed herself to relax as she sipped from the delicate cup. The hot tea had a calming effect, soothing her frazzled nerves as she waited on the still dreaded Professor’s arrival.

 

[BLACK BART]

Trevor enjoyed the wind as it whipped at his face and long hair...Thrilled to the sounds of the pipes as they roared when he accelerated through the dangerous curves and up the hills that lead to his home.

His home?

Trevor laughed at the idea, the Mansion was a borrowed conveniance until he moved on from the current amusements, and brought home his prize...

A prize that waited for him in the mansions library, if he knew his man-servant half as well as he thought he did.

The thought of the rowdy and ill mannered school girl waiting for him in such a proper setting amused him further and as he pulled the bike into the open garage he laughed...and made his way inside to find out for himself...

"Hello Thomas"

Trevor greeted the penguin suited butler and handed him the leather jacket off his back...

"Has our guest arrived as planned?"

"She has Sir, and waits for you in the Library..."

"You gave her the tea, I presume?"

Trevor chuckled in mirthful glee as the man-servant assured him he had "indeed" done that very thing...

"The I'd best greet her don't you think?"

"As you wish Sir, but don't you want to shower...or at least..change?"

The too proper man gently pointed out his Masters appearance in a massive mirror and Trevor laughed again as he looked at the lean, six foor figure clad in tight fitting blue-jeans and T-shirt that stared back at him.

"I don't think so...I'm beginning to enjoy this form...Thomas, aren't you?"

Stil chuckling Trevor adjusted the heavy mirrored glasses on his nose and headed for the double doors that were between him...and his guest.

"Well, well, well...who do we have here?"

Pushing through the doors Trevor strode into the room and headed directly for where Camille half relaxed...

"Father Morgan has been trying to cover up just what a "Bad" girl you've been...until now...and you've forced me to ask the question...WHAT am I going to Do with YOU?"

 

[Imoen]

Camille had pretty much gotten to the point of utter relaxation. Finally she let the warmth of the roaring fire and lovely tea sooth her frazzled and much abused nerves. She’d come to the conclusion that reclining in a lush, leather arm chair in a luxuriously appointed manor house wasn’t really a horrible way to spend evening. Not that she’d want to do it every night, there were definitely more fun activities she could be entertaining herself with. She sighed to herself, wondering where the mysterious man of the house was. She’d tried to ply Thomas with questions when he’d come back in to stoke the fire, but that had been a fruitless effort. He was chatty as anything concerning any other topic, but when questioned about Trevor, he clammed up tight only saying time and time again that he should be here shortly. Damn loyal employees.

Camille’s heartbeat speed up as she heard the echo of footsteps down the hall. That’s bound to be him, she thought, sure that Thomas’ tread had sounded a bit different. Deciding that she would be far more comfortable standing when she met her elusive host, Camille placed her cup on the accompanying saucer residing on the tray that the valet had left and rose to stand behind the armchair. She swayed sightly as she felt a wave of dizziness overtake her. She gripped the back of the chair, her fingers clutching at the soft leather in an effort to regain her balance. She blinked rapidly and gave a brief, violent shake of her head to try to clear her fuzzy head right as the doors were flung open.

Her azure eyes widened as she watched the man enter. “Dear God! That surely can’t be him!” She thought to herself. Assured that what had made her dizzy just now was most assuredly causing her to have delusions as well. A tall, darkly handsome man dressed in biker rags was striding confidently into the library. With him, he brought a mixture of most attractive scents, gifting her with a delicious drag of the fresh, cool, crisp autumn wind - the heady, smokey undertone of a Cuban cigar - and another familiar, but elusive scent, one that made her privates tighten instantly but eluded identification.

"Well, well, well...who do we have here?"

"Father Morgan has been trying to cover up just what a "Bad" girl you've been...until now...and you've forced me to ask the question...WHAT am I going to Do with YOU?"

His voice was honey, but his words were like a splash of cold water to her face. Anger welled up and spilled over through her eyes and her voice.

“And just who are YOU to suppose you have any right to do anything to me?!” She asked, her tone acerbic and quarrelsome.

The fact that he threw his head back and laughed only further incited her anger. Squaring her jaw, she came around the chair to face him, all fear and caution having totally dissipated with his show of amusement.

“And just what has Father Morgan told you?!” She questioned angrily through gritted teeth, “What, if anything, I may or may not have said to him was told in the confessional! What’s said there is suppose to be held in the strictest of confidences! If you think I’m going to sit her and let you lecture me over things that I’ve confessed to Father Morgan without him being here, you are sadly mistaken, Mister whoever-the-hell-you-are!”

After having punctuating the title she bestowed on him with rapid fire little pokes to his chest, she turned on her heel and strode over to the desk. Grabbing the handset of the phone, she lifted it from the cradle and thrust it in his direction.

“I suggest you call him and tell him to get his ass over here right NOW!” She demanded boldly, her gaze centered on him angrily.

 

[BLACK BART]

Trevor listened to the ranting and raving of the young woman in his Library as he poured himself a drink, not bothering to reply until he was certain she tossed her best threat at him and he had finished the potent brandy...

“I suggest you call him and tell him to get his ass over here right NOW!”

"I'll do just that, and while I'm at it I'll call a few more of the Board as well, I'm sure they'll be interested in your claims that the good Father has broken his vows of silence, though it will be sad to see him leave us after so many years of devoted service...But if that's what you wish...I'm sure the board will see it your way, considering the ample amount of proof you have...You DO have proof, don't you?..."

His face was suddenly serious, his eyes blazing, staring intently at Camille as he sat his drink down and moved to the phone and took it from her hand.

"Of course there will be a hearing, and during that inquiry everything you've told the Father will become a matter of public record...and IF you've done anything that violates the Universities rules, you'll be the NEXT one sitting in the hot seat."

Slowly he began to punch the number to the Universities chapel, his eyes watching Camille closely and seeing the indecision grow stronger on her face by the second.

"It will of course, be my job and duty to make sure justice is dealt to any and all infractions of University Law...as it has been for three generations in my family."

Indecision turned to surprise and Trevor laughed, the humor of the situation not spreading to his eyes...

"Didn't good Father Morgan tell you Camille? I can see by your face you have no clue, do you? The title of Professor is an honorary to me, given to me as a matter of protocal...as it's done for every University President."

The phone rang and a mans voice answered...

"Just a minute, I have someone who wants to talk to you..Morgan"

Stern faced Trevor offered the phone to the now less than defiant woman then moved to his desk to sit behind it...and wait for her decision.

"Well Camille, what did you want to say?"

 

[Imoen]

Without saying a word, Camille lowered the receiver back to it’s cradle. She turned on her heel and retreated back to the seat she’d recently vacated. She sank back into the cushions, her arms crossed across her chest, lower lip thrust forward in a petulant pout.

“I guess there’s really nothing I can say.” She said, defeat clear in both her expression and the tone of her voice. “I certainly don’t want to cause Father Morgan’s dismissal anymore than I want to be expelled. It seems you have me between a rock and a hard place, Professor.” She spat out the title with much sarcasm, infuriated by the smug look of victory that sat upon his face.

“What say you tell me exactly what you expect of me so we can just get this over with?”

 

[BLACK BART]

"You're everything Father Morgan promised you would be."

Trevor ignored Camille's impatient demand and moved to pour himself another dollop of brandy.

"You rebel against any and all forms of authority, refuse to let the ones that care you help you, and live only for the moment."

Pouring two glasses he offered one to Camille and stood waiting, his arm outstretched as he looked at her with serious eyes over his glass.

"Tough....Sassy....Camille, Don't nobody mess with her or she'll cut you down."

Placing the glass on the desk beside him he began a long, slow walk around her, his eyes admiring every flawless curve and how her clothes showed it all off.

"Tell me Camille, do you believe the line of crap you give to everyone else about yourself, or is there another reason why you keep everyone at arms length....like that boy Jamie you used last night, then lied to?"

That got her attention, her chin nearly rammed her shoulder as she snapped her head over to glare at him and spat the words out.

"How in the HELL did you know about that?"

Not missing a step Trevor continued to walk around her, and like a cat toying with it's prey he taunted her again, and again, dropping hints of the men she had been with, the drinks she had pounded down, and the way she enjoyed taunting the priest.

"Poor Father Morgan, do you know....you've got him masturbating after every confession? Keep it up and he'll rape some young school-girl and be quietly kicked off campus for it, all because you like seeing his surprised face as you tell him of your lewd acts."

 

[Imoen]

Camille’s expression was stony as she listened as Trevor went on and on about her numerous escapades. She slowly sipped the brandy he offered, relishing the sweet, slow burn of it as it slid down her throat. She held the crystal glass up, the bowl of it cupped in her warm palm as she swirled the brandy carefully, admiring the way the light reflected through the amber liquor. She made a study of the umber liquid, trying to focus on anything but the predatory way this infuriating man was stalking around her. She was feeling more and more trapped by each word, each accusation, each step he took. His suggestion of Father Morgan’s dismissal was her breaking point.

“Enough!” she cried as she slammed the glass down against the table and stood. “I have heard enough! I don’t know how you know all of this, and quite frankly at the moment, I really don’t care.”

She threw a pained glance at Trevor as she began the pace the room, her words heated and rushed as she desperately fought to fight back the tears that threatened. “What do you want from me?!? To quit? IS that what you want?! Okay! Okay. You win. I’ll quit. It was nothing more than a perverse thrill for me. No harm was meant and honestly, I never gave much thought to what would come of it. I don’t want Father Morgan to leave.”

She stopped her pacing and ended up facing on of the tall windows behind the desk, gazing out blindly into the inky, blackness of the night. “He’s helped me more than anyone I can remember in my lifetime and I... I... well, I don’t really know what I’d do if I thought my deeds would be the ultimate cause of his dismissal.”

Camille folded her arms and hugged herself as if against a sudden chill. “I’m sorry.” She said in a soft, quiet whisper.

 

[BLACK BART]

“I’m sorry.”

"Perhaps you are"

Trevor had moved behind her as she calmed, placing a hand on her shoulder and the second at her waist to turn her and see tear stained eyes.

"So we've come to an agreement of sorts it seems...you wish to protect the good Father and I have plans for you to allow that to happen...but first?"

He lowered his lips and covered hers, his hand pulling her close and not letting her pull back, his eyes openand studying her face as she trembled under his touch then relaxed to open her lips to him.

Letting his tongue in to taste the brandy still evident from her drink as it teased and toyed with her own...

"That was nice Camille"

Trevor smiled and looked down at his guest, her body still pressed to his as he studied her face.

"If you do everything like that for me we'll have no problems...so lets get you to my playroom shall we...and we can begin?"