Chapter 19: The 'Marquis de Sade'

"Put on these clothes whenever you're ready," Ramon said as he handed me a tracksuit and a pair of trainers. "We're going for a ride, and then you'll go for a walk," he added.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," I replied and put on the clothes he'd given me. It seemed to be a 'one-size-fits-all' model which was hanging on my body like it belonged to someone else and made me look completely unremarkable. It was in stark contrast to all the other clothes he had given me so far, which had all been designed to show off my figure to best effect. Besides, I would feel very hot if I'd have to walk any distance in these clothes. I would have preferred to wear shorts and a T-shirt.

Ramon must have read my thoughts. "These clothes are just for the journey," he explained.

I had called him the day before and told him that I was ready to start the next phase of my purification. He had told me to come to the apartment the next morning and advised me to have a hearty breakfast before I left. He had also instructed me to inform the people at the University that I would be away for some time.

He hadn't given me any details then and he wasn't offering any explanation now.

I'm not in the habit of paying much attention when I'm in the car with Ramon. I trust him and always feel he knows where he's going. But this time I looked out for landmarks that I knew, places I recognized, to have an idea where he was taking me. Not because I trusted him less, simply because I was curious about the destination of our journey.

Soon after leaving Paris we turned off the main highway and entered a narrow road with little traffic. The scenery turned rural with villages where chickens were freely crossing the road without much concern for the oncoming car. I remember that I was surprised to find this kind of tranquillity less than an hour from Paris. After we had passed the last village, the road became narrower and wound gradually uphill through a forest. Eventually it turned into a single lane road with occasional passing bays. After a while, Ramon pulled into a lay-by and told me, "Here we are."

He pointed to a sign saying 'Eglise Ste. Jacqueline' with an arrow pointing to a footpath leading slightly uphill into the forest. I couldn't see any building or anything else that would indicate the existence of a church in this forest. The footpath made a right turn after a while. From the gap between the trees I could guess where it might continue but couldn't actually see it.

"In the olden days, sinners used to come to the church of Sainte Jacqueline to ask for forgiveness for their sins. It was particularly popular with women guilty of the sin of wantonness. They used to make the whole way to the church on their knees. I don't think that will be necessary, but you should make the pilgrimage on your bare feet and dressed in the sinner's garb. It's okay to change here, nobody will see you."

Ramon handed me a bundle made of rough sack-cloth. There were two parts, a skirt and something that might be described as a shirt. I took off the tracksuit and trainers and handed them to Ramon. Then I put on the clothes Ramon had called 'sinner's garb'.

The skirt was held up by a piece of string which was threaded through the top, but no matter how I tied it, the skirt wouldn't stay in place. It kept sliding over my hips, and I had to hold it in place to keep it from falling down to my ankles.

Ramon knows exactly what size I wear. He knows my body better than anybody else, possibly including myself. He has designed several garments which fit me like a glove, without ever using a tape measure. If he gave me a skirt like this to wear, then he either intended it to fall, or he wanted to create the discomfort of having to hold it up.

The other garment, the one that vaguely resembled a shirt, was really a piece of sack with two holes on the side through which I could stick my arms. The openings on either end of the sack were the same size. This meant that the shirt kept slipping down my shoulders, revealing a good part of my breasts and threatening to slide all the way down. Walking with these clothes would be very awkward. I would need one hand to hold my skirt in place and another one to keep the shirt from sliding all the way down. I was sure that this awkwardness was exactly what Ramon intended.

"The building has been abandoned for some time and has fallen into a state of neglect. However, the monks from a nearby monastery have recently started to restore the church. It's possible that you'll meet some of them. If you do, make sure you don't fall foul of their strict moral principles. They don't take kindly to women who try to corrupt them, make them break their vow of purity. They have been known to castigate temptresses who were guilty of unchaste behaviour severely. There are also some unconfirmed rumours that some monks did not resist the temptation and raped immoral women before they punished them."

Ramon kissed me and wished me success on my mission. "One final word: Once you have started your pilgrimage, don't turn back. You won't find me here if you return this way."

The path was covered with fallen leaves and needles and felt quite pleasant under my feet. But beneath the soft cover of the leaves lay sharp stones, thorny branches and spiky plants, all waiting to pierce my bare feet. I picked my way slowly forward, testing the ground with each step before I put my full weight on the probing foot. The rough material of the 'sinner's garb' felt uncomfortable on my skin, particularly my nipples felt sore as the cloth rubbed against them with every step I took.

The skirt didn't help my quick progress either. Being a straight sack, as narrow at the hem as it was at the waist, it only allowed me to move forward by small steps. I decided to tear a slit in the side of the skirt so that I could make larger steps. As the devil would have it, the rough material tore all the way to the waist. This gave my movements more freedom, but it also meant that with each step my entire leg became visible.

This made me think about Ramon's warning not to expose myself to the monks should I meet any. Should I take it as an instruction to behave like a chaste pilgrim, or should I understand it as a hint that there was a chance of being raped and punished for it afterwards - if I were to provoke or anger the holy men. Did he expect me to step out of line as a sign that I was ready to start the third phase of my purification process?

As I made my way along the path, a gentle climb up the hill, all my attention was focused on where I put my feet and on keeping my clothes from falling. I was so absorbed by these tasks that I didn't notice the group of buildings I was approaching. They were set on a clearing in the middle of the woods, the largest one being the church of Sainte Jacqueline. Nor did I notice the figure which was leaning against a tree near the path.

By the time I noticed the monk - at least that's what the figure looked like - I was already quite close to him. He had his back to me; his eyes were glued to the book he was reading and he seemed unaware of my presence. He was dressed in a dark brown habit. The hood covering his head didn't allow me to see the colour of his hair. I remembered that Ramon had told me I wouldn't find him at the start of the path if I returned that way. Could it be that he had come around the hill and was now waiting for me, dressed up as a monk? I was pretty sure that this was the case. And what a fine monk Ramon made!

The sudden, close presence of this monk excited me. I wanted to make myself noticed. And I wanted to give him a good look at my charms and a reason to punish me. I rested my right foot on a boulder which lay in the path, bringing my entire leg out into the open. I also let the shirt slip until my breasts were almost completely exposed. Then I cleared my throat to catch his attention.

He didn't react. I would have to call out to him to make him notice me. But how do you address a monk? Father? No, that was for priests, which isn't exactly the same thing. Your Holiness? No, that was reserved for the pope. Merciful brother? I knew that there were merciful sisters, but were there merciful brothers as well? I wasn't sure. In the end I decided that a simple 'Sir' would have to do.

"Good morning, Sir. Excuse me for bothering you. Does this path lead to the Eglise Sainte Jacqueline?"

When he turned around, I realized that it wasn't Ramon! He was visibly surprised by what he saw, almost as surprised as I was to be confronted with a complete stranger. Was this a real monk?

The expression of surprise on the monk's face soon gave way to one of anger. "Have you no shame, woman? How dare you approach a man of the cloth in such unchaste attire. You deserve to be castigated for your shamelessness, and I'll see to it that you'll never forget the punishment you'll receive."

Without giving me a chance to say anything in my defence, he grabbed my right arm and dragged me behind him. He pulled me away from the path, across the forest, towards a small stone building which was set in the shadow of the church. I found it difficult to keep up with his pace but he just pulled my arm even harder, apparently in a great hurry to get to where he wanted to take me.

My feet hurt as he rushed me across the forest and I was no longer able to pay attention to where I was stepping. My clothes were sliding down even further; my breasts now completely uncovered, my skirt in danger of slipping down below my hips. I used my free hand to hold the skirt in place, not so much out of modesty, but for fear that I would stumble and fall if it were to slip down any further.

As we entered the building, I could see several beds, a few chairs and a table, all very simple, made of roughly-hewn wood. These were obviously the monks' living quarters. My captor threw me onto one of the beds and ripped off what was left of my clothes. When he pulled his cowl over his head, I could see that he was not only angry but also very aroused. I wondered why a man who possessed such a fine specimen had decided to take the vow of celibacy. Should I simply spread my legs and invite him in? Or should I resist to give him the sweet taste of victory?

I didn't have time to reach a conclusion. He forced my thighs apart and dropped to his knees between my legs, ready to commit a mortal sin.

"Brother Antoine! What in heaven's name are you doing?"

Neither my abductor nor I had noticed the two monks arrive at the scene of the near-rape. Brother Antoine froze. He had been close, so close! His disappointment was palpable. It would be almost impossible to finish what he had started. The disappointment mixed with his embarrassment as he covered himself quickly and then tried to justify his action to the other two monks.

"I was about to punish this temptress for accosting me dressed in indecent attire, for making me think impure thoughts, for trying to seduce me."

"It looks like she nearly succeeded," one of the monks remarked dryly.

"What kind of a punishment is this? You can't chastise a sinner by becoming a sinner yourself," the other one added.

As I listened to their discussion about the most appropriate action to take, I wondered if I had by chance stumbled on a group of real friars and had nearly caused the moral corruption of one of them. Maybe I should have taken Ramon's warning literally and not interpreted it as some kind of veiled hint.

Brother Antoine was the youngest of the three and seemed to need some guidance from his older brethren, particularly in moral matters. They advised him to offer his thanks to the blessed virgin as it had surely been her influence which made them arrive at the lodgings just in time to prevent a catastrophe.

As far as I and my punishment were concerned, they decided that I should be brought before the abbot who would decree what my punishment should be. One of the monks - the one the others had called Brother Pierre - told me to get up from the bed and cover myself.

My clothes were in shreds. They hadn't been very robust to start with and Brother Antoine's impatience had put an end to their useful lives. The monks were unmoved when I showed them the tattered rags that I had retrieved from the floor. That was none of their concern; I had brought my nakedness upon myself, now I would have to endure it.

The three monks escorted me out of their quarters, across a badly neglected lawn full of thistles, along a gravel path and through a side entrance into the church. Each of the older monks held on to one of my arms to make sure I wouldn't escape and Brother Antoine walked ahead. The thistles scratched my ankles and the coarse gravel hurt my feet, but the monks had little concern for my comfort. On the way we passed a group of monks who were working on the restoration of the church. They stopped whatever they were doing and stood silently as the procession passed.

Inside the church my captors took me into a small anteroom which was located in the side nave, beneath the clock tower. Brother Pierre stayed with me while the other two went to inform the abbot. They returned after a short absence, reporting that their superior wanted to see us in his chamber.

My sense of reality took another turn when I came face to face with the abbot. It was the man who had called himself 'Marquis de Sade' when I met him the first time! My mind went into a spin. What did this mean? Did he lead a double life, sometimes member of a religious order, sometimes 'Consultant in Education and Discipline'? Or was this whole order a sham, something which Ramon had set-up with the help of the 'Marquis' as part of my purification? I didn't think this possible. The monks seemed so real, such devout followers of their faith - at least two of them!

The abbot didn't give any indication that he recognized me. "What happened to her clothes?" he asked his disciples.

"They tore as she fell, trying to escape," Brother Pierre replied without batting an eyelid.

"Well, I'll be damned," I thought to myself. "Isn't lying considered a sin anymore?"

The monks told the abbot how they had found me loitering half naked in the vicinity of the church in search of men I could seduce. They spared Brother Antoine any further embarrassment by omitting the fact that he had fallen for my guile, taken me to their quarters and would have raped me but for the quick intervention of his brethren.

When the abbot finally turned to me, his interrogation was brief. I informed him that I had come up the path on bare feet, dressed in the sinner's garb to beg for forgiveness, but he just called me a liar. As far as he was concerned, the devil had taken possession of my body and the only way I could be saved was to exorcise the demon without delay. He told me that there would be a service in veneration of Sainte Jacqueline, the patron saint of the church, later that day. He would use this opportunity to perform the rite. In the meantime, I was to be kept as his ward. He charged Brother Antoine with the task of making sure I wouldn't escape.

When he had finished his admonitions, the abbot revealed a streak of compassion. "Are you hungry?" he asked me.

When I nodded he ordered Brother Antoine to also look after my bodily needs.

"And cold," I added. The stone floor of the church was cold, there was hardly any sun shining inside. I had started to shiver.

The Abbot looked at me with a wry smile and ordered Brother Antoine to also provide a blanket for me.

Brother Antoine locked me into the anteroom while he went to get some food for me. He returned with a large earthen bowl, filled with a thick, steaming soup, and a chunk of bread.

"You forgot the blanket," I said after thanking him for the soup.

"First the soup," he answered.

"But I'm freezing," I exclaimed, pointing to the goose-pimples which had formed on my skin and letting my teeth chatter to reinforce my point.

"If you promise that you won't try to escape, I'll take you to the inner patio, behind the sacristy. It's quite warm in the sun."

I promised. He was in no hurry to get the blanket for me. It seemed that he wanted to enjoy looking at my naked body for as long as possible. He watched me closely as I wolfed down the soup and tore pieces off the bread. I let him watch, making sure he had a good view of my charms, while I took a closer look at him. His curly blond hair framed a handsome face. I had already been able to see that his body was slim, not quite athletic but without too much excess fat. I guessed that he was only a few years older than me. He wouldn't have any problems finding willing sex partners if he were to look for them in the outside world.

Watching this young monk as he tried to reconcile his desire with his faith made me reflect on the strangeness of my situation. This was crazy. The monk sitting there, unable to take his eyes off me, was no fake. His desire and his agony were real. But how did this fit into the purification process which Ramon had brought me here for? If the monks were real what was the 'Marquis' doing here? They respected and obeyed him. Was he a leading member of this order? Was he a religious fanatic who also offered his services to would-be masters? My list of unanswered questions was growing longer by the minute.

When I had finished my meal, I stretched out on the stone bench to enjoy the sunshine. I was oblivious to the torment which the display of my naked body must have caused my warden. All he had to do was bring me the promised blanked and I would cover myself. But he preferred to suffer as he ogled the forbidden fruit.

"Have you witnessed many exorcisms?" I tried to get an idea of what was awaiting me.

"None so far," came his honest answer.

"Do you know what they are going to do to me?"

He didn't. His answers were vague and evasive. The only thing he kept repeating was that it wouldn't be very pleasant for me. I concluded that his knowledge of exorcisms - like mine - was limited to certain Hollywood films.

The blanket never arrived. After I had lazed in the sun for a while, the other two monks came to get me ready for the rite. Unlike Brother Antoine, they didn't trust me and held on to my arms as they frogmarched me back into the church.

There was an empty space in the central nave between the first pew and the steps leading up to the altar. Four ornamental brass posts were fixed to the floor, each one in one corner of an imaginary rectangle. My guess as to what the purpose of these posts might be was confirmed as the monks lead me into the middle of this rectangle and ordered me to lie down on the floor. They quickly tied my arms and legs to the four posts so that I was lying spread-eagled and more exposed than ever before on the church floor.