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Anthology - Dark Whispers Part 21

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"No!"

Then, from behind, and above hera"in the balcony: "I want to film you, Rachel. I want to see you."

She lurched to her feet, dizzy and breathless. The voices, coming from all around her.Many of them.

"I want to lick you..."

"...squeeze you..."



"...have to have you..."

"...should be in the movies."

Somewhere a door creaked. She spun around, looked up, toward the choirloft, to the glittering cross atop the altar.

"...want to touch you..."

"...my prisoner."

A dark man appeared at the chancel rail, dressed in ceremonial robes. Face in the shadows. But all too evidently: "Oh, G.o.d...Daddy, no..."

The voices swirled around her in a hypnotic madrigal, whispering obscene praises for her flesh. Shadowy figures appeared in the choirloft, in the balcony. Her father's eyes locked on hers, and she could not escape them, the burning. Lucas gazed at her, his face still maddeningly unreadable. No more condemnation. Stern curiosity.

"I saw you, sweetheart. I saw you on those pages. So vulnerable. So pretty. And so full ofl.u.s.t . I'm surprised, Rachel. Did you think no one would find out?"

She stammered, "I don't know."

"How could they not? Your pictures, in every p.o.r.n shop in this country. For the whole world to see, my own darling daughter."

"What...what are you going to do?"

He did not answer. Instead, the multiple voices answered in litany: "...see you...touch you...in movies, Rachel...we will have you."

"Please stop this. Please."

He took a step toward her. "You never had any idea, did you? That we would find out about you."

She shook her head vacantly. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

He loomed closer. Closer. "Take off your clothes, Rachel."

"No..."

"Off!"

"No! Leave me alone!"

A strong hand gripped her arma"steel searing pain. Eyes bright with madness. Hot, l.u.s.tful breath.

"Take them off."

Could not resist his will. Hand rose to her blouse, tugged open the b.u.t.tons. Tried to back away, stopped. Too strong.

"Off. Everything comes off."

The vaulted ceiling spun far above. Golden cross multiplied by tears. Blouse came off. She reached behind her back to unfasten her bra. Her father's grip did not relax, hard to comply. But she must. Could not refuse. Unbuckled her belt, unzipped. Her jeans slipped down her thighs, bunched at her ankles. She kicked off her shoes, then out of her pants.

"The last."

Slowly, she pulled down her panties, stepped out. She stood before G.o.d, her father and the shadowy witnesses, totally exposed, clothed only in her sins. Her dad leaned down, relaxing his hold only slightly, picked up her underwear, waved it slowly under his nose. "We're going to have you now," he whispered.

"No!" She tried to break free. He dropped her panties, grabbed her with his other hand. Pulled her. Dragged her toward the altar. Struggling, could not even loosen a finger. Tried to bite, couldn't get a grip on him. "Stop it! Please! Daddy!"

She felt his muscles tense, realized what he was about to do. She sucked in a breath and tried to prepare herself: she was suddenly hurled forward, toward the chancel rail, his full strength. Tried to maintain her balance, couldn't. She hit the railing head-first, immediately going numb. No pain. Just an explosion of white light, then the ceiling whirling violently above. She collapsed in a heap at the base of the rail.

He was coming for her again, robes billowing behind him.

"Please," she groaned, as his hot fingers encircled her wrists. She was wrenched to her feet, and her cheek suddenly went hot. He slapped her two, three times, each accompanied by a distantthwack, then he spun her around, facing the cross.

"I've been dying tosee you," he whispered. "Like this, sweetheart. Like all those men everywhere see you. Like the kid who's got his c.o.c.k stuck up inside you. How did it feel, baby? Did you like it? Was it pure joy?"

"I hated it."

"No, you didn't! Youloved it. It was in your eyes, Rachel. You have such...beautiful...expressive...eyes."

He pulled her to her knees, thrust her head and shoulders forward, bending her over the rail. He slapped her rear end, hard, but she didn't feel it. She was dead inside. There was nothing leftto feel.

Or so she thought.

But she heard the creak of footsteps now, coming down the balcony stairs, from the choirloft. Raising a pained eye, she saw a pair of familiar-looking facesa"Mr. Fisher, and Mr. Lacy. Friends of her mother's. Respected members of the choir. And another familiar face came into view: old Mr. Dodson, his watery eyes cold and staring. Like a shark's.

The voices continued. A feminine voice joined them.

Ms. Beauchamp, the school art teacher.

"No...no, please," Rachel groaned, no longer able to even lift her head.

Mr. Lacy, a young attorney, barely out of law school, came to her first. She heard the unzipping of his trousers. Then felt the hard, throbbing end of his p.e.n.i.s poking at her a.s.s. He stroked her flesh, pushed his stiffening member between her legs. She felt it exploring, seeking her s.e.x. She could not move. Paralyzed.

He entered her.

"No...oh, no," she gasped, tasted bitter bile. "G.o.d help me. Please help me."

The voices rang through chamber, echoing endlessly, punctuated by the lawyer's hoa.r.s.e breathing nearer at hand. She tried to flee from her body, but her soul remained securely rooted to its corporeal host. She became one with h.e.l.l, a burning, horrifying well of misery, filled with screams of torment. Her mouth did not loose those screams, but they rose from the pit, all the same.

More hands touched her. Soft, small hands, the hands of the art teacher. A warm tongue licked at her throat, and she smelled Ms. Beauchamp's perfume. A light, airy voice whispered in her ear, "Sweet Rachel. You are ours now. Your flesh is ours."

Mr. Lacy exploded inside her, his pumping so fierce that he almost lost his balance. He pulled out of her, and cool air washed between her legs, bringing momentary relief. But a second later, another figure took his placea"a heavy, muscular figure, so big that she knew even slight pressure from his hands could crush her. He forced his way inside her a moment later, and a scream erupted from her lungs, his c.o.c.k so big and hard that it felt like a jagged rock.

Mult.i.tudes of hands on her body, exploring, searching. Tongues licking her, mouths drooling. When Mr. Fisher finished, she was almost unconscious, barely realized that the one now preparing to mount her was her own father.

"G.o.d...help...me."

"I have you." Her father entered her with a vicious thrust. She felt warm blood running down her bare legs, cool by the time it reached her ankles. Beyond pain now, she knew only a deep, gouging pressure that seemed to twist her insides like a groping fist. After an unknown eternity, he emptied his seed into her, then leaned over her, his weight pressing on her arched back. His lips caressed one ear. Breath hot and foul. "You are mine forever."

A moment later, the chanting voices began fading away until only one remained, whispering, purring: "So beautiful...so beautiful. I told you you should be in the movies."

And as that voice also went silent, her ringing ears detected a vague purring sound, coming from somewhere close by. Her bloodshot eyes rose, searched for the source. There...next to the elevated pulpit.

Her blackened heart sank even further. There, Pastor Lucas stood, video camera whirring away, its tiny, red electric eye gazing blindly at her, capturing every millisecond of her misery. Preserved for all time. For the flock's twisted delight.

Her father pulled out of her and backed away. She could not so much as change her position, or s.h.i.+ft her weight. Every ounce of strength drained. Only ash remained inside.

Jesus loves me this I know for the Bible tells me so G.o.d forgive our trespa.s.ses as we forgive those who His silhouette appeared in the periphery of her vision, going around the chancel rail, toward the altar. He knelt briefly, bowed his head. She thought she heard him whisper something. Her vision swam so that she could not focus on him. Everything went dark for several moments.

This was just, was it not? Surely, she deserved this. For her sins she was doomed.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. A thin red streamer poured from the corner of her mouth; she'd bitten her lip. "Please forgive me. Please...forgive."

She closed her eyes. White flashes, red veil. Hot darkness.

When she opened them, she was bathed in shadow. Saw the robes over her father's feet. Slowly managed to lift her head, wanting to forgive him, to curse him, to love him, tokill him.

The heavy golden cross in his hands. Rose above his head. Hovered there.

"I love you, Rachel. Sweetheart."

"I...love...you. Daddy..."

Caught a glimpse of the camera watching coldly expectantly. Captured forever.

She lowered her head, closed her eyes, waited. No fear. She would be set free from this h.e.l.l.

A loud swish in the air, seemed to last forever. Then, she thought she was safe, safe at last, far away, forgiven.

Until the sound of a million souls, screaming, eternal...

The camera's eye winked out.

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