Charene `54, Chapter 11 of Lee A. Wood ‘s Novel, Fero

Copyrite `95.


SafeSurf Rated Adults Only

A novel

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Chapter Eleven

Monk in robes
Author's note: Picture, courtesy of `MASK WORLD .COMÍ

* CHARENE 1854 *

Charene's father was a typical, sexually frustrated, husband. Like most men, his wife's body had needed his until she had had her egg fertilized and then, as is common with most members of the animal species, the hen no longer required the administrations of the drake.

As with most married men their sexual awareness has only become heightened at the time that the wife's desires are subsiding. And like many men Charene's father turned to drink to ease his frustrations. Also like many drunken husbands he would come home determined to take physically, what his wife wouldn't give emotionally.

Many times Charene's father would come home too drunk to follow through with his plans of rape. Other times his wife would use his drunkenness as an excuse to reject his sexual advances. This would often lead to physical assault upon the wife.

In a one room hovel, such scenes could not possibly go unnoticed by Charene who would cower in her bed while pretending to sleep.

Only a few short weeks after her thirteenth birthday Charene was awakened by the roars of her father. This night he seemed to be louder than usual though not drunk enough to pass out. He beat Charene's mother to the point of insensibility at which time Charene could restrain herself no longer.

Rising from her mat on the floor she grasped her fathers arm which was raised to strike her mother, this resulted in off balancing her father. Enraged at this interruption her father turned, and striking out at her, ripped the thin rag of a nightdress from her left shoulder.

Though she would never be as tall as her mother, nor as large in the body, she had nearly reached her full growth. Her breasts were small, but young and proud, and fully exposed to her father's gaze. Stopped by her sudden exposure, Charene was too slow to avoid her father as he reached out and tore the remainder of her nightgown from her nubile body.

Two small hands and arms were insufficient to cover the expanse of smooth ivory skin that was exposed to eyes that devoured her. Shrinking beneath her father's lust filled stare Charene began to shrink back. With one hand her father reached out and grabbed her raven black tresses, forcing her down on her knees. With his other hand he fumbled at the fastenings of his trousers.

Charene was unable to breathe. Her heart was racing and her lungs were screaming for air. Her tiny nostrils were not able to supply the oxygen her body demanded. Her mouth, though open, could not collect air, as it was stuffed with some strange filth covered sausage. Her stomach contracted, making her want to void its contents, as the sausage was repeatedly jammed into the back of her throat, chocking her.

The pain in her head was excruciating, her tresses being nearly pulled from her scalp, as her father used his grasp on her hair to hold her head still. Finally the pain became too much for her oxygen starved brain and her body shut down.

As Charene passed into unconsciousness the sausage erupted, shooting a thick liquid into the back of her mouth.

Her father released the hold on her hair allowing Charene to collapse to the floor. Then he too collapsed, onto the bed behind him, and finally passed out, falling back onto his cowering wife.

Late in the morning Charene awoke, shivering, and crawled into her blanket where she immediately fell asleep again. Her father, stumbling out the door to work, had no memory of the incident, though the memory would reawaken itself, months later, during another drunken fiasco.

Again being rejected by his wife, Charene's father, sitting on the side of the bed caught the quick turn of her head as Charene hid her face under the blankets. The alcohol clouded brain remembered that there was a second female in the house. On hands and knees he crawled to his daughter. Pulling back the blanket he tore the repaired night shirt from her young flesh.

As time progressed Charene's father quite trying to sleep with her mother. Drunk or sober her father would spend the night on the floor with Charene, she knew that resistance was futile and would resignedly allow her father to satisfy his needs, however, and as often, as he desired.

This arrangement lasted for over a year until Charene's father, in a state of alcoholic haze, realized Charene was pregnant. For some unknown reason he became obsessed with the idea the child was not his and in a jealous rage, beat her, hitting her repeatedly in the stomach.

Charene's battered body aborted the foetus and when Charene's father learned of this he became enraged that she had deprived him of a son and beat her again. Running from the hovel she called a home, Charene soon lost her drunken father in the maze of back alleys and side streets. Having never before been more than a couple of blocks from home she herself was soon lost.

Her eyes filled with tears, Charene was oblivious to the people staring at her naked body. Totally unaware of her surroundings, she was also unaware that she was starting a parade of males with designs on the tender pink flesh before them.

Stumbling around a corner Charene collided with the portly abdomen of a cleric swathed in a brown robe. The kindly gentleman was immediately assaulted with catcalls when he wrapped her body in his voluminous robes and deprived the surrounding audience of the sight of her young charms.

Having never heard of monks or monasteries before, Charene was very amenable to the idea of warm food, new clothes, and no beatings, and willingly went with the bearded giant.

The realities soon replaced the visions. The warm food was a poor gruel, served three times a day, and the new clothes were a simple brown robe. The monks were a poor and simple people dedicated to the works of Christ.

Charene was the first nun the order had ever had and the monks took full advantage of the situation. Though servants of Christ the monks were still men with earthly needs. What better way for Charene to serve God than to serve His servants.

On the upside Charene was never beaten again and when she had free moments that weren't filled with eating, washing dishes, washing brown robes, praying, or serving Christ's disciples, she was allowed to relax in the garden and watch the monks tend the flowers and the vegetables below which were buried the babies that she was allowed to bear but not allowed to keep.

Charene was tired of nursing monks, her breasts swollen from a recent pregnancy, which had resulted in her fourth child being buried beneath the lettuce, two rows over from her third child which was buried beneath the carrots. News of a new monastery brightened her spirits.

Still the first, and only, nun amongst the brothers she welcomed the offer to travel with only two of the Lord's servants as they ventured forth to the New World, wherever that was.

She very much regretted her decision, however, the first day at sea, when she experienced something she had never heard of before, sea sickness.

There was not a cloud in sight and barely a stiff breeze filled the sails but Charene spent the first week of the voyage hanging over one railing or another, not caring whether she fell overboard or not. By the second week she was able to get down a little gruel and by the third week she thought she might live. And then the wind picked up. Nine weeks later Charene was more dead than alive as the Tally Lynn sailed serenely between the wooded banks of the St. Lawrence River.

The next two days were as much of a blur as had been her days of boarding the Tally Lynn. The noises and sights of the quay were totally unfamiliar to this young lady who had seen naught of this world. Charene was overwhelmed by the; sights, smells, and sounds of the hustle and bustle around her as they unloaded the ship and reloaded for their trip upriver to Ft. York. Before she had had a chance to get her legs used to dry land she was back on the water. The water was calmer but the boat was smaller and her stomach began to heave with the sway of the boat as its sail propelled them upstream.

After what seemed to be an eternity they arrived in Ft. York and Charene was deposited on solid ground. Until now she hadn't really believed in the God of which the monks proclaimed and now she knew the monk's were wrong. After years of poverty, years of assault by a drunken father, years of assault by men of God, weeks of seasickness, to be unloaded to a town of drunken men, mud streets, clapboard buildings, half naked natives, with no accommodations, she knew without a doubt that there was no God.

Charene masquerading as a brother, helped the two monks unload the ship, for which they earned a few pennies to buy food.

For lodging they unrolled their few tattered blankets at the sawmill. Their walls were stacks of lumber, their ceiling an endless panorama of stars. Luckily it was early spring and the winter storms were over, their ceiling was cloudless and the nights were getting warmer.

After three days the elder brother secured passage, in exchange for help on the portages, in a canoe bound for the Selkirk settlement at Ft. Garry.

Charene began to wonder which was worse the, seasickness that had seemed to last forever and had made her too weak to resist the one crew member of the Tally Lynn who had discovered the secret that she was female and took advantage of the situation nearly every night, when all she wanted to do was die, or the incessant drone of the mosquitoes buzzing around her ears day and night even as she was being violated by the monks who had recuperated from their seasickness and the one voyageur who had discovered her secret and smelled of beaver drippings and bear fat, having not fallen into the river for more than a month. She did notice, however, that there seemed to be an absence of mosquitoes when she was covered by the stinking canoe paddler.

Upon arrival in Ft. Garry, the monks, with visions of a huge monastery, and their unwilling mistress, with tools borrowed from, and knowledge given by, their neighbours, built a sod shack. An earthen floor, a baked earthen oven which would be used for cooking and heating, four walls of sod cut from the prairie surface, a roof of sagging willow trees cut from the river bank and covered by more sod. A one room hut would be their protection against the cold winter winds that were but a few weeks away.

The warm summer sun had moved South as they toiled to build their cabin and now they would only have time to gather a supply of wood. Thankfully there were some Christian hearts among the settlers, soldiers, and natives, and they had a goodly supply of meat; pemmican, buffalo, and smoked fish, to see them through the winter.

Hopefully, in the coming year the brothers would be able to find more charitable hearts who would help them raise a proper edifice to the Lord. Perhaps too, some of the local inhabitants would even care to join the brotherhood.

Charene too thought there was to be promise in this new land. Perhaps she would be allowed to keep the baby that was growing inside her, probably fathered by the sailor aboard the Tally Lynn.

Charene had learned there was no God, now she learned to despise those who believed there was, especially the two brothers who buried her latest infant beneath the floor of their hut as the ground outside had become frozen solid.

Shortly after the birth of Charene's child the elder of the monks walked to Fort Garry. He never reached it. Wrapped only in his thread bare brown robe he froze to death before he reached the half way mark. His death proclaimed the plight of the monks and the two remaining members of the brotherhood were soon quilted out with clothing, and bedding, courtesy of their neighbours.

The clothing probably aided in the death of the younger monk when a few weeks later he broke through the thin ice on the river, the heavy robes quickly filled with water and dragged him beneath the surface where he was swept downstream.

Alone, for the first time in her life, Charene didn't sleep for five days, starting at every little sound, frightened that she would be eaten by a cougar, as had a neighbour's child, afraid that the fire would go out and she would freeze to death as had the elder monk. Eventually, from sheer exhaustion she collapsed and slept.

After a few weeks, when she began to recognize the different sounds as; damp roots cracking as the moisture inside them expanded as it froze, wind rolling snow across the sod roof, wind sighing through the cracks in the log door, or the odd rodent scampering across her buffalo hide bed cover, she began to appreciate her new freedom.

Although trapped in the cabin because of the extreme cold she was free to sleep when she wanted and how she wanted, in the bed, by herself, without some hypocritic monk mauling her.

She ate when she wanted, much more wholesome food than she had ever had in her life. As the weeks wore on, her skinny frame began to fill out.

Solitude, loneliness, and boredom were totally new experiences for Charene. Trapped inside, for days on end, her fingers turned raw from stitching hides, she turned to reading. Stumbling with the few words the monks had taught her, she read the only book in the house, the bible.

On the road that ran from Ft. Garry to the prison and midway between the two, Charene's hut stood alone.

Often Charene would see or hear horses and wagons travelling back and forth but the travellers never bothered her, prison guards, like soldiers, not being a religious lot, though they did respect the brother's vow of silence.

One cold winter night Charene was standing in a depression she had dug in the floor near the stove. With a rag she dipped warm water from a pot on the stove then held it over her head and let it cascade over her smooth skin. She stood thus when the door popped open and a snow covered apparition staggered into her kitchen.

Removing his fur cap, revealing a head of bright, red, hair, the stranger began to beat the snow from his coat, "Sorry to barge in on ye like this brother, but tis dreadfully cold out there."

"Me bloomin' horse has gone an' died from that blasted epizootic and I've got ta walk back to the prison. Being as ye Christian gentlemen are full of charity I didna think ya'd mind if I was to warm meself by your fire before I continue me journey."

At least that is what Charene thought she heard. Too stunned to be hearing straight she wasn't sure if she understood the drunken babble that flowed forth as the man continued to beat at himself.

When he finally took the time to look around him he stopped in shock as he stared at this vision of femininity, like the Venus De Milo with one arm above her. The man started to stammer an apology and then began to wilt as the heat of the room combined with the alcohol in his brain.

At first Charene was worried and forgetting her nakedness she ran to the crumbled form on the floor. As she bent over the lump of buffalo robe she smelled the stench of rot gut whiskey and remembered all too well her early childhood and her drunken father. With disgust she threw another robe over the recumbent drunk and continued her bath.

Late in the morning, Charene, more asleep than not, felt lips nuzzle her breast. At first curiosity passed through her mind but then apathy took over. What did it matter which monk it was, the other would probably be along shortly to nuzzle her other breast. Hopelessly she tried to escape into deeper sleep.

Through her sleep fogged mind she sensed that the administrations to her tiny mammary were different. With the help of a finger the entire breast was taken into the brother's mouth. The man's tongue travelled over the entire surface, below, beside, and on top, batting her nipple back and forth and coating her breast with saliva until it slipped out of his mouth.

Pursing his lips around her nipple he sucked it into his mouth allowing his teeth to lightly scrape the sides. Then he batted the nipple back and forth before slowly sliding it out between his teeth. After doing this a few times he slowly sucked the entire breast back into his mouth and repeated the washing, with his tongue.

By now Charene was half awake and feeling feelings she had never felt before.

Despite the pressure of her hands holding his head to her chest the man slowly forced her breast out of his mouth and moved to her second breast which he began to lather with his saliva. Here he repeated the administrations he had applied to her first breast.

Waves of pleasure, something she had never known before, coursed through her. Over and over again his tongue and then his teeth, ran over her nipple, and the breast behind it, sending delirium to her brain. Her hands pressed his head against her as she instinctively tried to heighten the feeling.

Reluctantly she allowed the mouth to move from her breast as it slid to her breast bone. Before she realized that it wasn't going to her other breast it had left a trail of red hot kisses along her sternum and was circumnavigating her navel.

The deepest probes with his red hot tongue actually caused a tickle which made her shudder but when it wasn't plumbing the depths of her belly button it was caressing its walls and the feeling was heavenly.

After he had thoroughly removed all of her belly button lint, his wet lips moved further away from her breasts.

His tongue began to worm its way through her thick patch of hair and for a moment she felt he might be heading where a mouth shouldn't go but his kisses trailed off to the side and continued down the top of her thigh. The top and the outside, in circles, and squares, until he reached her knee where he paused to further befoul her already befuddled mind.

After what seemed an eternity, his hot caresses moved further South and repeated to her calf what they had done to her thigh. All around her ankle, his tongue, lips, and nipping teeth, sent chills up her leg and into her spine. The pleasure soared into her brain when he took her little toe into his mouth and treated it as he had her nipples.

Each toe he sucked in slowly, lavished with his tongue, and as slowly, pushed back out, gently scraping the sides with his teeth.

When he had totally cleansed and devoured each toe he moved to the other foot where he started with the toes and then moved to the instep and the arch and began to work his way up the inside of her leg.

The second knee was given as much attention as the other and then he proceeded up the tender flesh on the inside of her thigh. By now she was in such a height of fever that she neither noticed or objected when his mouth moved from her thigh to her outer lips.

What seemed like an hour of torture, while he devoured the outer petals of her flower, became pure agony when he moved to the inner petals. Delving as deep as his tongue would reach, he gathered her nectar until finally he reached her stamen and she cried out. Thrashing about while his hands tried to hold her hips on the bed, and his lips tried to hold her lips, so his tongue could maintain contact with her clitoris, she screamed, loud and long, as she experienced her first orgasm.

When she was totally spent the brother moved his administrations to her navel and slowly back to her thigh. By the time he moved back to her womanhood she was relaxed enough that his tongue did not irritate her tender flesh but instead began to arouse her again. To an even higher pitch of ecstasy. Again she thrashed about, again she screamed, and again she exploded, the feelings stronger than before.

Again he moved his administrations, slowly let her relax, and then just as slowly built her up again. Again higher than the time before.

One more time he began to subject her to his caresses but when she started to squirm he moved away from her womanly flower, up to her navel, then her breasts, then her neck, and then as he entered her, her mouth, which he covered with his, while he pumped furiously.

She tried to scream past his mouth as she felt his manhood inside her. Something she had felt hundreds of times before but something she was feeling for the first time.

She felt his manhood swell to the point where she thought it would rip her apart. She felt its fleshy sheath sliding back and forth on her love bud. She felt his hairs mingle with hers and then pull apart from them.

She felt his back stiffen, and his hips tighten, and she began to scream into his mouth as she felt the red hot lava erupt from his volcano and sear the inside of her nest. The heat tearing her apart as she, too, reached her peak, and exploded.

She collapsed and he collapsed, but not on her. Normally, the brothers, when they had used her as a receptacle for their bodily fluids, would either collapse upon her so that she could not breath, or they would hastily withdraw, preying to the lord for forgiveness.

This male slipped to one side so that his weight rested on the bed but in a position that allowed him to hold her close. As her breathing slowed, and her senses returned to normal, she opened one eye and saw a mass of red hair. It took a moment to register, and then her memories came back, both brothers were dead.

She opened her other eye and finally recognized the drunken brute that had disrupted her bath the night before, and, with this realization, came the foul stench of his whiskey laden breath. How could a mouth that had tasted so wonderful only moments ago smell this bad. She had to turn her face away.

"Am I that ugly, then?" Came a gentle whisper in her ear.

Charene stiffened, not knowing how to reply. For the last several years she had played the role of a monk committed to a vow of silence.

As she thought of a way to answer she realized, that after the last half hour, there was little point in trying to hide anything from this stranger.

She would have to promise him to a vow of silence. In this Western wilderness full of lonely men it wouldn't do for folks to learn that there was a single female living alone in an isolated cabin.

Rolling over she placed her hand over Trevor's mouth.

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