
The Orphanage

by Leslie Schmidt


It was a somber group of school girls who gathered in 
the convent chapel.  Earlier that day they had been 
through a funeral, a funeral for Margret Marie, one of 
the favorite girls in the orphanage.  She had only lived 
seven years before she took a fever, laying delirious 
for almost a week, being attended to by the sisters 
and the older girls, and then fading away late at night.  
Only two men, the Sexton and the idiot grave digger, 
had carried her casket, a plain wooden box, out into 
the graveyard and lowered it into the earth.  Even 
now, it was impossible for most of the girls to 
imagine her in that box, in a still uncovered grave, 
cold as the ground around her.

In the ancient convent chapel with its candle-soot 
blackened walls, the girls gathered, twenty-two sat in 
the chairs while seven stood at the rail.  The twenty-
two were either too old, having become women, too 
young, still little children, or had already served as the 
anima custudum, the 'soul custodian' who, through 
her sacrifice, had insured that the departed's time in 
purgatory would be short, only lasting until her place 
was taken by the next unfortunate girl from the 
orphanage.

The Mother Superior walked along the line, each of 
the seven children reached into a basket, itself 
covered with a red velvet cloth, and removed a small 
stone, then held it in her palm without looking at it.  
Then, once the stones had been taken the Mother 
Superior nodded and each, in turn, held her  hand out 
and opened it.  A murmur went up when the fourth 
girl, a quiet nine year old blonde opened her palm to 
revel the white stone.  The other girls soon gathered 
around her, smiling, whispering their congratulations.  
As for Theresa, she felt both elated and scared.  
Scared about the ceremony that she would be having 
soon, elated that God had chosen her to protect the 
soul of her friend, and a little sad for she would miss 
her friends for however long her service lasted.  It 
could be only a day or two, it could be over a year, 
but she would be leaving the orphanage to live in the 
Bishop's home, until death  took another girl from 
the orphanage.


*        *        *

Gregorian chant echoed through the cathedral during 
the procession.  First the Censor, a teenaged man, 
swinging the smoking thurible, spreading the smell of 
incense through the cathedral.  Next, the Crucifer, a 
novice monk, carrying a heavy golden cross, his 
elbows raised with his palms forward in front of his 
face holding the rosewood staff.  Next came six 
candle bearers, boys, no older than 10. Then the 
Dean of the Cathedral, Father Charles, wearing a 
black cassock and red stole for the season of 
Pentecost, holding a gold bound bible over his head.  
Five paces behind him was the Bishop Stultz, a purple 
robe and white miter signifying his rank, the silver 
shepherds crook acting as a walking stick.  Behind 
them came another six torch bearers.  The twelve 
candles carried by the torch bearers did little to chase 
back the darkness but they did soften the shifting 
light from the large torches mounted four to a 
column in the cathedral.

There followed a procession of nuns, led by the older, 
then progressively younger women.  Finally, came the 
Mother Superior and, with her, Sister Eunice, her 
assistant.  Between them, being held with four white 
ropes one tied to each wrist, one to each ankle, was 
Theresa, dressed in a white robe.  The last person in 
the procession was the current anima custudum, 
Rachel, tall for her age of 11 and, just as she had 
appeared for the past three months in church, naked.

The Censor passed through the alter rail, rising up the 
three progressive levels to the high alter, there to 
anoint the stone tablet.  Next the Crucifer passed to 
his right and around the alter, placing the crucifix in a 
stand behind.  Each torch bearer passed the alter to 
place the candle staffs on stands, forming a circle of 
twelve candles around the alter.  Father Charles 
placed the heavy bible on the alter, genuflecting and 
crossing himself before walking behind the alter to 
stand to the right.  Next was the bishop, passing to 
the left and taking up his position in the center, 
behind the alter, facing the gathered congregant of 
nuns and monks who had filed into the chairs below 
the rail.

The Abbes and her assistant, with Theresa between 
them, waited at the gate. The music stopped.

"Deus  omnipotens, salvatorem et anima orbitas..."

["Almighty God, savior of children's souls,... we 
beseech thee, by this sacrifice, to bring your child 
Margret to your heart..."]

The Latin mass continued several minutes, sometimes 
with responses from the congregation, sometime with 
chanted responses from the monks in the dark loft 
above the narthex.  With a nod, the two nuns brought 
Theresa foreword, then turned her to face the 
congregation. Her robe was a single piece of linen, 
more a blanket draped around her and held closed by 
a single lacing at her neck.  Eunice untied the laces 
and Mother Superior lifted the cloth from her 
shoulders.  Now the nine-year-old blonde, just a slip 
of a girl, stood naked before the congregation.  Unlike 
Rachel, her chest was completely flat, two small dim 
nipples barely showed on her smooth skin.  Her ribs 
were clearly visible, there was no flare to her hips, just 
slightly protruding hip bones.  Her thighs and legs 
were skinny with a thin slit between tightly pulled lips, 
there was little rise to her sex. From behind her, 
Bishop Stultz considered the thin bony shoulder 
blades and small ass of the child.  While the sight 
caused a surge of his gut, he also wondered if she was 
too small, whether her sacrifice would be too painful, 
possibly even injuring to the child.

The nuns guided the child backwards, helping her not 
to stumble on the last step up to the alter.  When she 
felt it behind her, she lifted herself up, now sitting on 
the edge of the ornate marble block.  The coldness 
was somewhat lessened by the white alter cloth.

The Bishop reached forward and, taking her 
shoulders, pulled her back.  She put her arms out 
behind her to support herself.  This naturally rocked 
her back on her hips, spreading her legs slightly and 
displaying her sex more openly.  Mother Superior 
came around the alter and tied each of the ropes from 
the girl's wrists to a brass ring set in back of the alter, 
holding her back but still giving the child some ease 
of movement.  Then Sister Eunice, taking the rope 
from her left ankle, and Mother Superior, taking the 
one from the right, tied them to rings on the outside 
corners, at the floor.  These were tighter, so Theresa's 
legs were spread wide with her ass on the edge of the 
alter.  Then the two nuns bowed to the crucifix 
overlooking the entire church and returned to the 
congregation.

From the dark recesses of the church began more 
chanting, this time the songs of the monks were 
joined by the voices of the children, the girls in the 
congregation providing an angelic counterpoint to the 
low and mystical sounds of the men's voices.  The 
Bishop came around in front of the alter and, carrying 
a crystal bowl and silver aspersorium anointed the 
girl, first her head, then her shoulders, then thighs 
and, lastly, her sex with water.  Then, turning to the 
rail, he anointed the assembled congregation, 
throwing droplets of water across the people.  Finally 
he stopped before the anima custudum who had 
taken a place kneeling at the alter rail, wetting her 
forehead, arms and chest with the holy water. As he 
passed Father Charles on his way to his chair, the two 
men bowed.

Now Father Charles stood in front of Rachel.  
Looking down at the naked child he made the sign of 
the cross, giving her his blessing, then he opened his 
robe, uncovering his cock in front of her.  Rachel 
reached out with both hands and cradled it, slowly 
stroking it to greater hardness before leaning forward 
and taking him in her mouth.  His cock had a familiar 
feel and taste, the head fit nicely in the back of her 
throat as she slid the head and some of the shaft in 
and out.  Father Charles looked out across the 
congregation, imagining them all sitting there naked.  
Many he knew, former anima custudumia who had 
served a term in the Rectory.  Rachel had actually 
become one of his favorites, she seemed to take a 
special joy in her duties to him, often making her 
service last much longer than needed, bringing him to 
greater heights of spiritual ecstasy.  He built quickly, 
not wanting to delay the service, Rachel knowing 
exactly what speed to use, how to best massage his 
nuts, when to switch from sucking to licking.

From her place on the alter, Theresa watched, 
wondering what his cock would feel like in her 
mouth, feeling a strange tingling in her sex, now 
spread and exposed to the air as it never had been 
before.  She wanted to touch herself but the bindings 
prevented her.  As it was, she unconsciously started 
rocking her hips as she watched Father Charles' 
movements become more intense.

The singing reached a crescendo and then abruptly 
went silent just as Father Charles grunted, his low 
voice echoing through the church.  Rachel's mouth 
was flooded with his sperm but, this time, she was not 
to swallow it, but hold it.  The priest humped several 
times into the pre-teen's mouth, each time firing 
another wad of cum, until she was over full, semen 
running down her chin.  He finished and pulled back, 
a long white string of goo stretching out between the 
girl's lips and his cock.  She looked up at him, her 
mouth open, showing him the enormous load of cum.

Father Charles, his dick still sticking out from the 
opening in his cassock, took the girl's hand and led 
her to the alter.  There, standing above Theresa, 
between her legs, she looked down and slowly let the 
Father's jez drip from her mouth onto the younger 
girl's sex.  White slime first splattered to the right of 
her vulva, on the large stretched tendon.  Then more 
hit the top of her slit, running down over the ridge of 
her clit and into the folds below.  The feeling of the 
droplets hitting her caused Theresa's tension to 
double, the sight of the priest's sperm on her sex 
made her feel an insufferable need.  She writhed and 
humped, her legs held wide apart, her hands held 
from where she most desperately wanted to touch.

The singing started again as Rachel knelt down, on 
her knees at the alter.  Theresa exploded in orgasm at 
the first touch of the older girl's tongue.  Now Rachel 
could, again, taste the father's sperm but this time she 
was allowed to take it in her mouth and swallow.  
Theresa jerked and shuddered against her bindings as 
she came again and again.  She fell back on her 
elbows, arching her back and staring up at the 
Crucifix, the sad Christ looking down at her, to her 
right, in a niche, the tender and solemn face of The 
Virgin, wearing a crown of small candles watched as 
the nine-year-old climaxed again and again.

Unnoticed by any of the congregation, the Bishop, 
Crucifer, and Censor had all pulled their robes off 
and, standing, had left them on the ornate chairs 
along the walls.  The Bishop, leaving his mitre but still 
with the shepherd's crook approached the two girls at 
the alter.  The other two men took up places behind 
the alter, to each side of Theresa.

The nine-year-old came one last time, jerking at the 
ropes, and the Bishop put his hand on the older girl's 
shoulder.  Abruptly, the music stopped.  She leaned 
back, away from Theresa and turned to face the 
Bishop's impressive cock, its bull head standing at her 
eye level.  Playfully she kissed it, then she spat on it, a 
mixture of her saliva, the younger girls vaginal juices, 
and traces of Father Charles' sperm. Now, in the 
silence the Bishop took up his place between the 
sacrifice's legs.  The child looked with fear at his 
enormous cock, then up at his stern face.  She leaned 
back in submission.

Looking down, Bishop Stultz said a silent prayer as he 
placed his dickhead against the little slit.  The two 
other men each placed a hand on her shoulder, 
holding her, then the Bishop shoved.  Theresa's 
scream filled the church, passing down the corridors 
and into the minor chambers just as her maidenhead 
was ruptured and the over-large cock ripped deep 
into her.  The Bishop was almost delirious with the 
vice like tightness of the girl as he stroked again, a 
smear of blood covering his dick and more blood 
running down the child's ass to make a dark stain on 
the alter cloth.  As he humped again the pain began to 
pass, being replace by a building passion, and Theresa 
relaxed, leaning back again on her elbows, looking 
into the Bishop's eyes.  As her ardor built she noticed 
the two assistance, on either side of her, stroking their 
cocks with their free hands.  Now they pushed her 
down, her shoulders and head hanging off the edge of 
the alter, her back arched, her sex pushed upwards to 
be filled with the Bishops tool.  In the silence, the 
moans and grunts, the panting breaths of the three 
men and one child could be heard throughout the 
cathedral.  As they built the sounds became more 
desperate, the sight of the little girl, her virginity torn 
away, cock buried deep in her hairless slit brought the 
men to the height of ecstasy.  First the Crucifer 
unloaded, shooting a string of his sperm across the 
girl's throat, then the Censor and the Bishop came at 
the same time, the Bishop's sperm filling the 
immature womb while the Censor's coated her flat 
chest.  At the same time, Theresa was rocked by the 
most intense orgasm, her entire body shaking, 
staggered by the spasms which painfully clamped 
down on the Bishop's cock. 

The Bishop stood, his head down, panting, his cock 
still in the child's pussy.  As he pulled out it was 
followed by a rich mixture of blood and sperm.  The 
two other men were regaining their strength, and now 
untied the girl.  The Mother Superior came forward 
and helped her off the alter, then removed the cloth 
and quickly folded it, handing in to the new anima 
custudum. Theresa stumbled down the steps, still 
naked, blood smeared on her sex and down her 
thighs, cum running down her chest and onto her 
stomach.  She clutched the alter cloth to herself as she 
led the procession out into the night.

Torches on stands lit the way down the stares, then to 
the right and into the graveyard.  Margret's grave, still 
open, was lit by a circle of torches.  As she stumbled 
along, the child did not notice the cold rain.  She 
looked down into the grave.  A crude and steep set of 
steps had been dug at the foot, leading down to the 
casket.  The top was in two parts, the upper half 
having been removed, uncovering the mortal remains 
of Theresa's friend, also naked.  The girl went down 
the steps, mud caked on her feet and oozed between 
her toes.  On the last step she stumbled and fell 
forward onto her knees, landing with a loud thud on 
the top of the casket.  She caught herself just before 
falling further but stopped, her face just above the 
placid expression of her friend.

"Sister, I pray that my sacrifice will bring you soon 
into the holy presence of God," she whispered.  Then 
she placed the blood stained alter cloth on her 
friend's chest and struggled to her feet.  The strong 
hands of the Censor and Crucifer grasped her and 
lifted her out of the grave.  After the saying of a 
solemn prayer Father Charles lifted the wet and 
shivering girl into his arms.  As the rest of the 
congregation filtered off into the darkness and the 
grave digger stepped down into the grave to close the 
casket, the priest carried the child toward the Rectory.  
Just before they entered the hollow sound of the first 
shovel full of dirt could be heard.


