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Notes of the Authoress: Okay, about a year ago I took my fan fiction "Extreme" into my creative writing course to see how it fared. Of course, I changed names so they would not know it was a fan fiction. Overall, I think it was a good experience for me and I think I learned a lot from it. Based on the class suggestions I eventually revamped "Extreme" and thus it became this fic. Now, do not worry, I will not delete "Extreme" from AFF.net as some of you may prefer it to "The Fire Sermon." That is fine. I see pros and cons for each version of my fan fiction. I do hope some of you enjoy this. Thank you very much for your support. Your Humble Fan Fiction Writer, ~Suten Net
Rating: R Pairing: None. Feedback: Yes, please. Characters: Filia-centric, with Saijuro-san & various OMC.
Betas: Tara-hime, Jenee; (Frau Eva), Zanne Chaos, AmeriaSaillune39, and the members of the Valfilia Yahoo!Group.
Notes of the Authress: Many thanks to the Valfilia Yahoo!Group. Disclaimer: I own the story, but nothing else. No money, just fun.
The Fire Sermon
By: Sat-Isis/Suten Net
Echoing down the long narrow hallway was the beating of her heart. Or, at least, that is what she thought it was. Flanked on all sides by four guards, she was being lead to the cathedral for her penance. None of the guards acknowledged her as she tried to keep her gaze focused on nothing at all. They were merely a formality.
She had been lead down this corridor before. She knew what waited at the end.
In a way it was almost a relief being lead down this dark tunnel – sparsely lit with torch lamps. Sometimes she was made to wait in what had become her own cell, completely isolated for months until it was time for her penance. This time it was only a week.
Her relief was slowly dwindled as they approached the cathedral. Everyone was called to witness penance.
Sometimes, she would not remember what she did to earn her penance, but this time she did. She had said something she should not have and she had said it to an elder. She should have known better by now, however, it seemed inevitable that she would always end up doing something wrong, earning her penance time and time again.
O, how her father would be shamed! If only he knew.
They came to a stop at the cathedral's massive closed doors and waited. This was the worst part. She was given time to think about what would happen.
Time slowed and stretched out before her only to snap back into place when the doors were finally drawn open from the inside. The guards lead her in and filed away as three acolytes ushered her to the center of the cathedral.
The Supreme Elder's rumbling voice did not falter in the slightest, as he spoke her name and condemned her. The acolytes positioned her so that she faced the Supreme Elder's back. Two acolytes were on each side of her while the third retrieved the implement of penance.
The Supreme Elder ended his diatribe against her and called her forward. She could taste bile in the back of her throat as all eyes watched her. She was bidden to remove her bodice from her body. She had not yet been allowed to wear her cloak and headdress since her confinement. She would receive them again after her penance.
As she slipped her thick shoulder sleeves down her arms and pulled down the bodice to uncover her breasts, back, and a great deal of her belly, she turned an ashen white except for the twin red plumes on her cheeks. It had not been so bad when she was younger, but now that she had breasts it was all rather embarrassing. Her eyes glazed over when her bodice hung around her waist and she let her arms dangle lifelessly at her sides.
She did not resist in the slightest as the Supreme Elder made her kneel from behind, placing his bare hands against her bare shoulders and pushing down. The two acolytes on either side of her also kneeled and wrapped their large hands about each of her wrists, pulling her arms out, extending them from her body.
The Supreme Elder took the rod from the third acolyte and waited. The acolyte knelt in front of her and pulled her hair foreword. When he finished, he placed both palms on the top of her head and pushed down so that her forehead almost rested against his lap. He did not remove his hands.
She was in a pleasant daze until the Supreme Elder brought the rod down hard against her back. She yelped and flinched; a mistake. The Supreme Elder did not like it when she flinched; any sign of weakness in public was intolerable. The hands that held her tightened.
He brought the rod down harder against her back, but she wisely bit her tongue, clenched her teeth and screwed up her eyes. The only sign of her distress, as he slammed the cane down with increasing force and frantic timing, was the clenching and unclenching of her fingers.
She could hear the Supreme Elder panting and grunting behind her as he laid her low again and again. It was his frustration that urged him in such a manner as he received little satisfaction from these public displays.
They were all watching her, even the acolytes who were not supposed to. This was unlike her private sessions with him – where each blow was rendered with precise timing and placement to deliver the maximum amount of pain.
Tears were dripping from her eyes and she was almost to the point of writhing when he suddenly gave her a final mad thrash that drew up blood against her flesh. The Supreme Elder was almost stooping, his weight on the hand that held the rod, as he regained control of his breath. He let the rod rest against her back where he had let it come down last as blood welled up around it. He finally bade the acolytes let go of her and she slumped a bit under the Supreme Elder's weight. He rose, keeping hold of the rod, and noticed her still kneeling on the floor.
She could feel his hands against her as he bent down to urge her up. She felt him place a hand against her head and his lips against her ear as he whispered urgently for her to rise and that she was not as hurt as she thought. In the end, he had to assist her to her feet. He stepped back as she was to put on her top once more. She felt woozy as she brought it up again, craning her neck to look at her back and being mindful of the welts, bruises, and blood. She could see the Supreme Elder, his eyes dilated, sweating and red in the face. Should he manage to hold his erection long enough her blood on the rod would do nicely to satisfy him.
She kept her hair to her left in the front so it would not rest against her sore back. Two acolytes presented her with her cloak and headdress. She was obliged to put them on. She winced as the cloak was brought over her shoulders.
She was urged off towards the pews, as she would now have to sit through the sermon. As she passed, their large hands would reach out and rub her back in a kind gesture of comfort that was at its heart a malicious act. She suffered through the long sermon, but did not miss a word. She would have to wait until she was alone before she could heal herself.
After the sermon ended, she was one of the first to bolt out of the cathedral to avoid more caring pats on the back. She walked as fast as she could, without running, through the halls. She was almost hyperventilating by the time she reached her quarters. Her hands tore at the door and she thrust herself inside. She bolted the door behind her and pushed her dresser against it.
She could not breathe and tried to let out a strangled sob. She bit her knuckles and let her cloak fall to the floor as she tried to suck in enough air. She could see blackness swimming at the edge of her vision and she tipped precariously on her feet. Her headdress came tumbling off as she fell to her knees. She did not rise up until she could breathe again.
She let her upper garment come down about her waist once more and began to unhook her skirt. When she rose, she let her clothes fall off. When she stepped towards her bed, she let her feet slip out of her white kid boots. Gently, she climbed on her bed, belly down and clad only in her socks. It would be a while before she found the strength to heal herself. She held her pillow over her head and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
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