Mea Culpa

 

 Mea Culpa

 (Enigma 1990)

 Chapter Three. Part 1.

“Were running out of time. We only have one hour to get ourselves ready for your trip into hell.”

“If this might involve something being placed in my brown eye and then up to your nuts in guts, I think I will make sure I empty myself. You start preparations whilst I drop a stinky.”

Although it was a tempting invitation, he decided that idea was going to be saved till after they had gone to midday mass to repent the sins he intended to bequeath to her.

“Okay my sex on legs, but when you come out, I am going to refer to you as Rosemary and you must take on her roll.”

“Rosemary? Do I look like some kind of freak whose parents decided I looked like I would grow up to be a nun wearing rosary beads from birth? Ok, not a problem, I will see you in…actually, that is quite neat having that large clock imbedded in the cupboard under the sink.” She laughs. “And, it measures not only the time, humidity, but the pain threshold and smell rating!”

“Actually the last two don’t work. But I am making progress on the idea.”

“You should design an app for it all and build in some kind of scales in the bowl to measure the amount of piss has been pissed, the weight and type of any stools deposited, runny or not. Just like when you have to describe to the doctor if you think you have contracted Ebola.” Now she was shrieking with laughter as she, with another bum wiggle, entered the bathroom and locked the door.

He went to the bedroom and removing three articles from a set of draws, placed them on the bed and returned to the living area. Clearing the coffee table, he covered it in a shiny, pure white silk cloth, embroidered with patterns of  black crowns with thorns dripping blood. Onto this was placed a large satanic Ouija board with a small devil figure as the curser. Finally, a ceremonial dagger of the SS.

With the lights dimmed to deep red, “Alexa, play Enigma, Mea Culpa, and lower the volume.”

The request was done, and with four LED tea lights on each corner, were turned on and flickered eerily alight for the forth coming doom in the gloom. With another remote, a whooshing sound as of marijuana smelling fog poured out from under the sofa and filled the small place.

Opening and shutting the bathroom door, “Rosemary is here and what the hell, I can hardly breathe, never mind see.” Then holding out an aerosol can, “where on earth did you buy this. It stinks of roses to high heavens and hasn’t really disguised what I had for dinner last night. I like to keep them hard and uptight till I really want to plant a serious coil. This was more like a apocalyptic mud landslide. Serves me right for eating a chicken vindaloo at an Indian restaurant. That was paid for by some total boring loser who I took a chance with from mDates. I mean, look at the tin. A picture of a devil sitting on the toilet breathing fire and labelled ‘Devil’s Stench Exterminator’!” She placed the can in front of the door rather than go back in. “I suggest you don’t go in there for a while. That place Rosemary just left smells of very rotten roses.”

“Can we change the subject please. I am very sensitive about bowel movements. Even my own pong makes me want to vomit. The can label I designed, laminated and stuck it on the cheapest rose smellies I could get. I think that tin came from LIDL’s own brand.”

“Well I am grateful for that much. If you had wanted me to shit on your head, I would be out of here and wish you good luck with another woman on mDates.”

Both them were now in the bedroom, the ‘her’ now named Rosemary, looked at the packets on the bed. Two were costumes neatly folded in transparent sealed bags, the third a clear A4 document sleeve filled with temporary tattoos.

“And pray, where did you get these? Also, at Lidle?” as she examined one package before opening it. “It still has its price on! Four euros and ninety-nine cents marked down from thirty nine and ninety-nine. And from TEDI. How lucky I am. At least I know its never been worn before. Hmm, ‘one size fits all’.

“Oh, I picked them up a few weeks ago. They were in a box of the unsold junk from last year’s Halloween. Also, just hang on a second, what makes you think that is your costume? For all you know I could be in that and you are wearing the devil’s costume,” and pulling it out of its bag, then shaking it out, “and you then fuck me up the arse with a giant black, strap on dildo.”

“Hardly. I don’t see one on the bed and I am quite sure that even your weird mind would not want that.”

Laughing wickedly. “True, my tradesman’s entrance is still sealed against any kind of sex machines. But its no wonder that Amazon gives members of the LGBTQ club a 20% discount on their online collection of sex toys. All ‘Made in China’ and powered by Durexcell. Stop chirping so much and get dressed. It’s a shame I don’t have my makeup on.”

“Huh. Makeup. Why not?”

“Because it is all in a small cosmetic bag on the shelf above the toilet and I can’t go in there.”

“Oh, I just have to see you in make-up. I get it.”

Rapidly she skipped, saw and snatched, the wind following the shutting of the door unmistakable.

“Erm…Yes, that is quite a bummer of a stench.”

“Now sit down,” opening the bag and looking inside. “Aha, black fingernail polish, WITH built is red glitter. She looked at her own still speckled with dried semen. “I think mine will have to do.”

Out came a black pencil liner and mascara, a white powder puff container, black gloss lipstick, plus, “What’s this? A contact lens receptacle.” She opened one of the two small screw tops. “There is nothing in here but saline fluid. So…Oh, I get it. Oh- you cheat! Let me look at your eyes.” Grabbing his head, she closely examined his eyes. “Their party lenses. And you were wearing them when that photo was taken that you posted on your profile. Well, it fooled me.”

Smiling,“ I think watching Kaa in Jungle Book gave me the idea. I hypnotised you didn’t I? Now my lovely. Start with the nails as they need time to dry. Do the face with powder first and”

“I don’t think I need to be told how to put on makeup. I was doing that long before I lost my virginity at 14.”

 

Finished and satisfied with her skilful applications, she started to look through the tattoos.

Chicken and Wine

Chicken and Wine

  

Chapter Two. Part Four

Cozied up once again in the same position as before, she trapped his fingers in an expecting snatch, just as he pushed play again.

Nicely relaxed, and with an occasional in and out of his fingers, the absurd film continued, with the set in the eerie flickering burning lights of dozens of papal emblazoned  candles placed on palm skeletal hands - along with its previous owners skull, were nailed at angles from the grey stone walls that went to form a curved ceiling. The apex was black with soot from the century long annual tradition of priests fucking nuns to death.

“Did you know that at incredible cost, this was actually filmed in the secret vaults of the Vatican?” He spoke as he nudged to get her attention.

Without removing her gaze from the screen, but the wriggling of her hips against his hand suggested she wanted a bit more finger fucking. “Ja, Ja, I am sure it was and,” She pauses. “Oh no, this is really over the top!”  

The scene continued with the profoundly obese dead nun’s body being tossed on a growing pile of tangled corpses, semi-naked in ripped habits and cowls, covered in various quantities of wet glistening semen.

Then two priests, crossing themselves, dragged violently a screaming nun  to the ancient granite mausoleum, its lid now covered by a morbidly obese priest on his back. His Cossack was raised to expose a massive cock protruding below layers of hair covered fat rolls. Its enormous head was bulging with so much blood forced into it by an overdose of Viagra, it had turned a deep shade of purple. Its eye was pouring out sticky, transparent lubrication.

Seeing what awaited her, the nun struggled with hopeless force. Her shaking jowls below an open jaw covered in long corkscrewing black and gey hairs, shook sweat off them as she protested her innocence and swore to Mary to please save her virginity (sub-titles – swearing and screaming nun protesting that she is a virgin).

Her two captives with lustful desire, tore and bit with black stumps of teeth at her holy gowns, exposing an incredibly large, fatty mons venus, covered in a mass of entwinned black curls above thighs with wooden legs attached to them. Chanting, they spread them and with the power of Samson, with such force; that they were detached from her. The perfectly shaped hairless, polished black ebony prosthetics glistened to match her skin colour. The two shimmering sticks from the light of the flickering candles fell with a clank to the stone floor.

The pair cawed with delight, as if they had just won the ‘Hellfire’ lottery. (sub-titles - chanting ‘Like a Virgin, touched for the very first time’, and laughing.) A small hunchbacked priest, looking almost as a doppelganger of Quasimodo, rushed crookedly out of the shadows to scoop up one of the wooden legs. Spotting one of the few remaining nuns, all squawking, like chickens with their head’s cut off, as they dashed to and throw inside the locked vault. They flapped their habit clothed arms just like the said chickens, but one was too slow to dodge the crippled, sideways scuttle of Quasimodo.

With a chicken like cackle, he smashed the wooden leg against the back of the skull of one skinny weeping and fleeing nun. There was a loud crack as wood split skin and caved in bone. (Sub-title – loud sound of nun’s back of her skull being caved in). Her dying words. “Oh, I always wondered why Mother Teresa made strange clicking noises as she walked and never wore sandals.” (Sub-titles - what the fuck is going on?)

Quasimodo lifted his cassock and shoved his small wimp penis, its tiny tip covered with a long sagging, filthy yellow foreskin, with little resistance into her open mouth. “Blow me with your last breath of life,” he roared in maniacal rage of lust. (sub-title – I want a blow job.)

She pushed his shoulder. “Hey, you! I have feeling these sub-titles are not exactly being translated correctly.  And how is it that this, quite frankly, the most chaotic, disgusting frenzied orgy I have ever had the displeasure to watch, was ever made in the first place? Its rating should be - ‘To be  shown only in lunatic asylums during midnight mass’!” She paused again. “Oh, God help me, this can’t be happening!”

Quasimodo, with incredible strength, smashed a fist under the nun’s whimpering jaw, making her sharp dentures click together, severing the tiny frankfurter she was gagging on. The teeth, complete with its mouth full, flew to clatter against a headstone and falling to the ground, and then opened like an oyster exposing a very decaying pearl.

“Hey, lover boy. Put on pause.” She untwined and stood up, his fingers sliding out. As he stretched them to relieve the cramping of 37 minutes of constant finger fucking and clitoris rubbing, she spoke again.

“I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry or vomit. I am certainly NOT turned on or scared. You have your work cut out when this film ends. How much more of it is left?” covering herself in the sequinned dress.

Pushing pause, he looked at the frozen screen. “Fifteen minutes, and the next bit is brilliantly construed.”

“I need another wee and need to clean my teeth. Alone this time.”

As she took the few steps to the bathroom, she hiked up the back of the dress and gave him a sexy wiggle, her slit almost seemed to wink at him. Returning a short time later she sat normally on the couch besides him. Pulling her half of the blanket over her legs she slipped a hand under it and felt his soft eggs inside its now sagging sack.

“Hmmm, you will, after this rubbish ends, better have something planned as I need my soul soothing and my hole filling. Are you not going to get into your tracksuit?”

He shook his head. “No, because when I do get dressed just now you have to help me set the stage as we enter this coming midnight of magic and mystery, and erotic wicked wizardry.”

Giving his balls a rather strong squeeze making him gasp and sit up sharply, she giggled. “Now I am very curious. I like surprises.”

Kissing quickly her offered wet and partly opened lips, that let out husky breaths of fresh mint, he started the film again, and looked into her eyes. With an oily voice oozing with sarcasm.“I know you do.”

Holding hands and supping on their respective colas, the screen now revealed that the pair of thug priests had lifted the struggling, legless nun by her armpits high towards the roof. The stumps of her legs were thrashing around in a weird way that mimicked a mad sexual predator conductor at an all castrated boys’ choir. They suddenly stopped, and spread wide to ripping apart point, became as stiff as the docked tail of a boxer dog after the vet had shoved an ice-cold, glass thermometer up its arse. She was lowered onto the shimmery, glowing and spitting head of the heavenly rod, that the priest had with a hand pushed it to point at the very stars of the galaxy. Chanting demon prayers to satin, the two monks clasped their hands around her wrists and with exertion stretched the now shell-shocked nun’s arms out, till she appeared to be black, legless believer nailed to a very short crucifixion cross.

Walking on opposite sides of the stone crypt in a clockwise direction, they started to screw the now silent nun slowly onto the weapon of mass hysterectomies. (Sub-title – lots of screaming in background, priests in perfect unison singing Halleluiah.)

Throwing her head back, making a scream similar to the squealing sounds of a corkscrew being applied to the cork of a holy bottle of Christ’s blood wine, vintage AD 43, flooded, through all five speakers of the surround sound. (Sub-titles -Impossible to describe, just believe its fucking bad, man.)

He watched her as she stared at the screen with wide eyes. He snickered to himself and said sternly. “Just wait till for what I have planned for you next.”

The priest’s singing reached a crescendo  as finally the lump of a nun was firmly screwed down and the glowing knob end had forced its way out of her now loose and very dead mouth.

Suddenly, startling her from her hypnotic observation of the mausoleum act of sacrificial debauchery, just as there was a mighty bang and the huge oak, carved doors of gargoyles, burst open. (Sub-titles - Loud bang.) She grabbed the remote and paused.

“Tell me man of mystery, what is the point of these sub-titles? They should have not bothered and donated the cash to ‘Help stop domestic abuse’ fund. Now what will be the next surprise?”

Hitting play, they watched on with the clammy clasped hands of sex sick lovers sharing an unforgettable incident in their lives together. One to tell their grandchildren.

At least 15 SS Nazi zombies rushed in. Each attired in black leather raincoats, each face adorned with a small black toothbrush moustache and Himmler style spectacles. “Death to the stinking sinning nun-fuckers!”, they shouted in the perfect unison of  German military death squads’ discipline. Each of them was branding petrol powered chain saws, coloured black and adorned with red adorned swastikas, that roared for bone, meat and brains. As they hacked a swathe through the few remaining survivors of the fuck concert, some started to rip Crucifixes from the walls, piling them into a heap. Setting the mound alight, the others turned off their bone cutters.

Choosing a nun with the top of her skull neatly removed, exposing the grey entangled worms formally used as a way to think. (Sub-titles - Lots of screams and sounds of buzzing and growling.) Now the officers of death pushed the head, still attached to the rest of her ripped apart body, into the flaming alter of crucifixes. Standing together in silence they waited for the snap, crackle and pop as the brain roasted in its own baking tray. “Heil Hitler, the nun  can be served up. Pull the stuffed stupid nun out.”

The leader clicked his shiny leather boots together and stiff armed saluted. (Sub-titles - I am not doing them anymore. I only did so for the money, God forgive me.) “Men, get your knives out.”

There followed a feeding frenzy like starving sharks biting chunks out of a sailor splashing frantically in burning oily water, as his ship slowly slips below the surface from being torpedoed by a U-Boat. The credits started to come up as the Nazi zombies, with shiny embossed Skull and Cross bones logo on their ceremonial daggers, proceeded to scoop out and chew on the perfectly cooked lump of charcoaled head offal.

The screen started to darken as schnapps glasses were handed around filled with Gorbachev vodka, and smiling with full mouths and slapping each other on the backs – a single word in old Germanic text appeared in flaming red letters – PROSIT.

A COCKLESS MONK AND THAT BANANA

 

 Chapter Two. Part 3.

A COCKLESS MONK AND THAT BANANA

 

The toast popped up with a clang. Throwing the skin into the waste bin, he turned and attacked the butter, smearing some thickly onto the hot slices, placing then two more slices into the toaster. Whilst that hummed away, occasionally creaking as the wires glowed red hot, he broke the banana in two and coated both in honey and presented it to her.

“Here, take this half and masticate with it.”

“Oh, the lord bless me, how interesting this dessert is becoming. You want me to shove this inside myself and then you eat it out. Let me guess. Your half you place in your arsehole for me to eat. Yes?”

He laughed. “No silly girl, chew it, not use it between your legs. In your mouth - till it is a lump free paste and then with lots of saliva, spit the mess into this bowl I am holding. Is sex the only thing in your head?”

She nodded enthusiastically to the question and swaying with the hypnotic music, chewed, loving the taste and regretting not being able to swallow.

He in the meantime was doing the same and they both filled the bowl with perfect timing. This he placed into the microwave. She circled her arms around his waste from behind, resisting the urge to fondle his eggs again.

“Do you think I’m sexy? Tell me, tell me. Do you like fucking me?” She whispered into an ear.

 Not answering but giving her nipples a tiny nibble, he took the hot banana out. She looked at the steam rising.

“I hope you don’t intend to try and put boiling banana into me?”

“Oh, I fully intend to do so. It will rapidly cool down once I have it ready. As for like fucking you, wait till after the film.”

Now the second set of toast was buttered and coated in the smear of mashed honey-banana, and the slices divided onto the plates. He completed the dish with a light coating of cinnamon, and just a little squirt of lemon essence. Each square was converted into two triangles, a plate was placed along with a serviette in her hand.

“Now baby girl, grab your coke, sit down and munch away whilst we continue to watch”

 Sitting together, eating from the plates they held, he stopped the music and pushing play, the film continued. Smacking her lips and licking fingers coated in honey and banana, “Can you go back a bit. I want to read what the ugly monk shouts out when his huge cock comes out that fat old nun’s pussy that he was banging from behind on the alter table, when it fell off after he had shot his wad. That was so funny. Turn up the sound. I love the way she screeches. Do you think it was from pleasure or pain?”

She tried to quill her laughter as she took another bite. “Mmmm. This tastes really good. Thank-you very much.”

“Baby girl, I have no idea. I have never had the opportunity to fuck a fat old nun over an altar.”

The scene restarted. ‘Oooo ahh, Oooh ahh’, screamed the nun through the surround sound speakers. The monk’s dick comes out and still squirting holy spunk, falls off onto the floor, wriggling a bit.

The next sub-titles come up as the docked dick monk screams out. ‘Oh Lord, have mercy on my wicked shameless, sinning soul for taking advantage of the devil’s dark hairy cave of demonic lustful desires. And I will repeat a thousand Hail Marys if you put it back on.”

She handed him the empty plate, wiped her fingers again, and clutching  her sides, bended over double and let out peel after peel of laughter. Between gasps she stood up. “Put it on pause for a moment. And this is supposed to scare me. Okay; it’s a bit brutal. Now I am going to wash my hands and you better the same. I am not letting you glue up my box flaps with honey and banana.”