“Eu nasci em Hampstead. Minha mãe não gritava então eles não acreditaram que ela está parindo. Mais tarde eu fui para escola num convento. Mais tarde eu montei em couro. Mais tarde eu peguei algumas pílulas para dormir. Eu precisava perder…”
Ó Rafael. Anjo guardião. No amor e no crime todas as coisas movem-se em setes. sete compartimentos no coração. as sete elaboradas tentações. sete demônios lançados sobre Maria Madalena prostituta de Cristo. as sete maravilhosas viagens de Sinbad. sin/bad*. E o número sete marcado para sempre na fronte de Caim. O primeiro homem inspirado. O pai do desejo e assassinato. Mas o dele não foi o primeiro êxtase. Considere a mãe dele. Eva praticou o crime da curiosidade. É como o ditado diz: matou pela buceta. Uma maçã ruim estragou o tiro inteiro. Mas tenha certeza que não foi a maçã. Uma maçã parece com uma bunda. É a fruta dos maricas. Deve de ter sido um tomate. Ou melhor ainda. Uma manga. Ela mordeu. Temos que culpa-la. abusar dela. pobre doce puta. talvez haja mais para a história. pense em Satã como algum garanhão. talvez seus joelhos estivessem abertos. cobras de satã no meio delas. elas abrem mais. cobras em suas coxas esfregando-se contra ela por um tempo mais do que a árvore do conhecimento era sobre ser comido… ela estremece seu primeiro estremecimento prazer jardim do prazer ela estava arrependida somos sempre meninas ela era uma boa leiga só deus sabe
* sin/bad = numa tradução livre, pecado/ruim. resolvi deixar assim porque, puta merda, foda. (N.do T.)
Há uma doçura na sua pequena boca de menina e as pérolas que você segura na palma da sua mão toda vez que você estende a mão você quebra você fantasia você está circuncisada agonizada flagelada coroada crucificada perfurada quatro vezes seu sagrado coração sangra goteja e goteja mais mulheres choram aos seus pés doze homens te transformam doze homens te desejam (nuvens de amônia em suas axilas) uma estrela do mar palpita na sua barriga e as flechas te sacodem te sacodem te sacodem e os músculos do seu coração doem um peixe bate em seu rosto você rola você rola sobre os pátios do santuário em um vestido preto e vulgar abençoe sua quente boca virgem você poderia ser Judas e o próprio Cristo você poderia ser Maria Madalena a única mulher que fez o salvador chorar ainda assim você puxaria mandrax para dentro como a bolacha sagrada deixe-me para o sono eterno Mas não. Eu não deixarei você ir. Eu não deixarei você ir. não. Não deixe o mel escorrer da sua doce doce caixa não deixe as multidões corarem e ofegarem enquanto você carrega a cruz não deixe as meninas de flor te abanarem atrás de um grande ataúde preto não deixe as pérolas desmoronarem desmoronarem da sua pequena boca de garota.
meias nos pés ou descalço imensamente orgulhoso ou dobrado como amor galho cadafalso coveiro ou dançarina no vento o mesmo vento ainda fedorento de porcos rosa ou o pólen que faz uma tosse cruel fantástico ao contrário de qualquer outra coisa
para ter nenhuma necessidade de aparato de uma sala de cirurgia para estar seguro de todos os danos corporais para conhecer o amor sem exceção para ser santo em qualquer forma
balada de um menino mal
ó eu era mal não fazia o que deveria mamãe me pegava com uma lambida e me dizia para ser bom quando eu era mal em dobro ela me empurrava em um buraco e cortava todos os meus dedos e colocava eles numa tigela de dedos minha mamãe me matou meu papai entristeceu-se por mim minha irmãzinha annalea chorou debaixo de uma amendoeira
ó eu amei um carro e quando eu me sentia triste eu deitava no ford de papai e me sentia bem e você sabe que eu fiquei mal roubei as calotas dos homens e as vendia as mulheres e roubava tudo de novo e eu consegui um carro um carro hudson hornet e enrolei as senhoritas bonitas e muitas vezes fui para longe eu fui para chicago eu fui para kalamazzoo eu fui para nashville nas auto-estradas eu voei e fui para salinas eu rodei até o mar e as pessoas todas me censuraram e apontaram para mim elas diziam ai está um garoto mal eu era um garoto muito mal eles recolhiam suas filhas eu ouvi o que eles diziam afaste-se dele querida porque esse garoto é mal e embora estivesse bem e ilumina os saques não deslize para o lado dele ele dirige na rota errada porque ele é um garoto mal minha mãe me matou meu pai se entristeceu por mim e minha irmãzinha annalea chorou debaixo de uma amendoeira
e eu chorei em um carro estocado eu capturei os ferro velhos e eu acelerei através dos cânions embora eu nunca tenha ido tão longe dos mecânicos destruidores eu cultuei esses homens mas eles riram de mim, cara eles me chamaram de filhinho da mamãe meia-noite de segunda duas da terça bêbado de tequila pensando em você, mãe eu dirigi meu carro, mãe destruir carros era minha arte eu segurei uma foto sua, mãe perto do meu coração eu rodei de janelas fechadas fazia noventa graus a multidão estava gritando estava gritando comigo ela dizia que eu estava louco verdadeiro motorista galinha sem sentido mas eu não podia os ouvir não podia ver para-choques quentes como anjos ardendo dentro de mim eu acelerei no áspero vapor quente eu rachei e rolei em seus pés eu subi em chamas e rolei em um poço onde você me pegou com um ferro de pneu e me cobriu de merda e eu poderia me levantar mas a multidão gritou não esse menino é mal muito mal para viver na condicional tão mal sua mão fatiou
bem eu vou terminar mais tarde
jesus morreu pelos pecados de alguém mas não os meus derretendo em um pote de ladrões coringa em cima da minha luva duro coração de pedra meus pecados meus próprios eu talho na minha própria palma doce negro x adão não rogou nenhum feitiço em mim Eu abraço eva e assumo toda a responsabilidade por cada carteira que eu roubei má e escorregadia cada canção do johnny ace em que eu badalei muito antes da igreja a tornar limpa e direita então cristo estou te dando adeus estou demitindo você esta noite eu posso faz minha própria luz brilhar e a escuridão também é igualmente boa você ficou amarrado ao meu irmão mas comigo eu desenho uma linha você morreu pelos pecados de alguém mas não os meus.
canção de trabalho
eu estava trabalhando muito para mostrar ao mundo o que eu poderia fazer ó eu acho que nunca sonhei que eu teria que girar o mundo algumas fotografias como eu amo rir quando a multidão ri enquanto o amor escorre pelo teatro está cheio mas ó bebê quando a multidão vai para casa e eu me viro e eu percebo que estou só eu não acredito, eu precisei eu estava trabalhando duro para mostrar ao mundo o que eu poderia fazer ó eu acho que eu nunca sonhei eu teria que eu precisei eu precisei sacrificar você
eu me sinto eu me sinto uma merda eu preciso de eu preciso de uma bebida e nem mesmo vinagre eu não quero morrer eu me sinto uma aberração não me deixe romper eu não estava rompida para ir embora virgem eu quero minha cereja esmagada homem martelo amour me ame vive comigo hora da morte que inferno hora da morte que estou fazendo aqui como acabei aqui hora da morte e eu me sinto tão livre sinto como se fudesse sinto tão livre sinto como se corresse não tenho cabelos me pesando corte tão perto escalpo é cortado parece com m e r d a hora da escuridão e eu pareço com m e r d a hora da morte e eu me sinto livre hora da morte e eu me sinto livre carcereiro carcereiro brinque com minha b u c e t a lamba minha pequena isca numa dose de cabeça pegue pegue pegue o pegue o guarda para implore o guarda para precise do guarda para me colocar pegue todos os guardas para me colocar se todos os guardas pudessem me colocar se um guarda pudesse me colocar se um guarda pudesse me colocar se um deus pudesse me colocar se um deus
um fogo de origem desconhecida
você está descontente talvez eu devesse só parar de ser você um fogo de origem desconhecida levou meu bebê embora um fogo de origem desconhecida levou meu bebê embora varreu ela para cima e se foi minha onda comprida engoliu ela como o oceano em um fogo grosso e cinza a morte vem varrendo pelo corredor como o vestido das senhoras a morte vem dirigindo pela estrada no seu melhor domingo a morte vem dirigindo a morte vem rastejando a morte vem eu não faço nada a morte faz deve haver algo que persista a morte me deixou doente e louca porque esse fogo levou meu bebê para longe ela me deixou tudo ela me deixou todas as suas coisas
Dawn Squad: Do you have any crushes? (either OCs or NPCs)
Darren: Um… sure, I guess. I mean, Inquisitor Mahalen ( @laskulls ) seems real nice. Shiny, like a star, y’know? Varric’s really great too, but he sees me as a kid and… I don’t really mind. I wouldn’t act on it or anything anyway. I’ll just keep it in my head. Nindharmen Lavellan ( @sunshinemage ) also seems kind. Warm, but also strong.
Connors: … Dagna. She is enthusiastic. Bright. Reminds me of someone I once knew.
Cyrus: Crushes? Nah. I don’t do that. (That’s a lie he has plenty: Hanin (pre-Skyhold), Iron Bull, Nyvera (if they ever met ofc - what a nightmare that would be), Maedwyn Lavellan ( @thedosian-cabbage ) because he just seems so charming and suave, Fael Lavellan ( @kurogoesinthedas ) because that man has a smirk that makes him weak at the knees, and Jarvaazim ( @taerellavellan ) because he’s a sexy rough-and-tumble pirate, what’s not to love?)
Ralon: That blonde guy. What’s his name? de Chevin or something? Yep. He’s a keeper. Bit cold where he likes to hang out, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Also have a thing for that captain, Maleus ( @lavellanlove ). Man’s got a smile like a bonfire on a dark night. Would also go for Cassandra but I think she’d plant my face straight into a wall for trying…
Lyrene: Creators, that Katsuro ( @lavellanlove ) is just something else. Real hard to get, but that’s half the fun! But don’t get me started on Commander Cullen either. I’d climb him like a tree. And Sera! She’s hilarious. And Knight-Captain Rylen phew, yep… (it… goes on. She’s got a lot of love to give okay? haha)
AVIRA: Amaranthine Sweet Vegetable Tarts Considering the lack of space within Alienage walls, city elves had to make the most of all they had, making rooftop gardens a common sight. Food was often scarce, so they prioritized produce that didn’t take up much space and could keep for long periods of time, which made root vegetables such as potatoes, carrots, onions and garlic a staple of city elven cuisine. Since sugar was often too expensive to buy, most elven food was sweetened with honey, instead. Given the ingredients were readily available, sweet vegetable tarts were a common treat. Eating them still takes Avira back to life in the city.
KATSURO: Silent Plains Lentil Stew with Hard Rolls & Sweet Crumble The cuisine of the Silent Plains reflects both the availability of ingredients in its arid, unforgiving terrain and its war-like history. Scarcity of water and fresh green vegetables have all had their effect on the food. Meals that can last for several days and can be eaten without heating are preferred. Lentil stew was well-balanced, filling, and with the deep fried bread combined with the sugary topping of the crumble, somewhat indulgent. As a child, Katsuro had been known to eat the crumble straight out of the bowl.
MALEUS: Rialto Oyster Chowder With its expansive coastline and the abundant fish in the Rialto Bay, seafood is both a fact of life and a dietary staple in Rivain. But given that Llomerryn is a bustling trading hub, culinary influences from across Thedas can be seen in the food there. Maleus’ personal favorite is a Fereldan x Rivaini hybrid: bringing together some of the heartier elements of a Southern chowder with the spice palette and the fresh-yet-briny seafood of the North. He eats it with Llomerryn Red, but then, he eats almost everything with Llomerryn Red.
Matteo Gentile had been in the small village in the Piemont for almost forty
years. He always wanted to be a priest. Of course he was conservative. But not
because he was a priest but because he was raised by his father in that way. At
the beginning, he wanted to make career and become a bishop; or at least a high
administrative position in the Uffizi of the Vatican. But he had firm
principles. Celibacy and abstinence were fixed for him, and he could not accept
the excesses of some of the brethren. That is why he accepted this position as
pastor in the remote village, not at least to escape the influence of the
Vatican. Meanwhile, he enjoys life here, is respected and always a welcomed
guest at festivals and in the local trattoria. The fact that his sermons now rarely
contain quotes from the Bible, does not take him any offense. In his firm
order, he lives a happy life far away from the machinations of the Vatican, and
one often sees him sitting in his garden, his hands folded over his now respectable
Sunday, the Monsignore says goodbye to the visitors and has some warm words for
every one after the service. When the last one has gone, he turns around, goes
back inside and closes the door. There he heard a sound behind him. He turns
round and sees a larger number of men sitting in the front benches. He goes
through the ranks and finally recognizes the entire city council.
“What can I
do for you, gentlemen?”
The mayor gets
up and places in front of him.
we have talk to you.”
please, what is it about?”
The mayor turns
around and looks at the faces of his colleagues, who signal their approval.
Nevertheless, he is hesitating. Finally he gives himself a push.
you had made this collection to help the starving children in Africa.”
“Yes. And I
would like to thank you again for having donated so generously. ”
that. But now we have a problem and that is you. ”
could I become a problem? I have passed all donations down to the last Cent.
“I have no
doubt. It is only…”
The mayor makes
it? You know, that you may tell me everything. ”
The mayor gazes
at the priest.
not become angry now. We thanked the bishop after the collection and also sent
him a photo of you, with a request to support your community. ”
did you do? "The priest is visibly frightened. For years he had not been
visited or audited. Was there anything that could be reproached? The mayor
looks around and recognizes that the others look to the floor. He turns to the
“We only wanted
the best. ”
I understand you. ”
The mayor is
pushed from behind. He clears his throat briefly.
something else, Monsignore.”
the trattoria frequently.”
shrugs. Lent. So that is it. He tries to hide his nervousness.
on. You do not have to take that seriously. ”
The mayor looks
the name of the city council, I have to point out to you that the bishop has
asked us to call you to account for that.”
“Call me to
account?” the pastor becomes deadly serious.
“And how is
that supposed to look like?”
has decided that we shall arrest you so that you can be punished according to
ecclesiastical law. You should recognize your repentances and repent. ”
You’re mad. You don’t know what that means. ”
we do not know exactly. But we are a strict Catholic community. You know just as
we do that we are still part of the Vatican in ecclesiastical matters. And if
the Vatican instructs us to execute a decision, we have to do it. That’s the
way it is. ”
“But you do
not necessarily have to punish me. An admonition should be enough. ”
sorry. But it is the photo. The bishop has
informed us that, according to your appearance, you have been giving yourself
up to years of gluttony, even in the Lent season. There is no space for an
admonition at all. Do you agree? ”
“I do not agree
to anything. Finally, everyone has to eat. This has nothing to do with
gluttony. It is not my fault that I gain weigh faster than others.”
hoping you would understand. We will now have to take the necessary
beckons a man who has hitherto stood in the background.
The man stands in
front of the pastor.
Jesus Christ, Monsignore. My name is Bernardo Donatelli. ”
“Yes , yes.
In eternity. What do you want?”
I am a law enforcement officer of the authorità giudiziaria of the Vatican.
Maybe you’ve already seen me. I have been here for about a week and have been
able to observe you. ”
been observing me?”
accidental. Actually, I am here to execute the order of the bishop. I have the
mission to accompany you to Rome and pass you to the judiciary. ”
swallows dryly and his hands begin to tremble.
to … .”
The mayor turns
to the pastor and taps on his shoulder.
“Come on, Monsignore?
You just go to Rome, you’ll explain everything and you’ll be back within a
“You do not
understand that. You do not know what will happen to me there.”
The mayor looks
at the man asking.
“It’s just an interview, isn’t it?”
The judicial authorities are understaffed and overloaded. The Monsignore will
therefore be assigned a cell until the start of the survey. Normally, it takes
two or three months for the questioning to begin. ”
Just say you are torturing the detainees. Until you have the demanded statement.
as you know, the type of questioning is precisely defined in the ‘Maleus
Maleficarum’ since centuries ago. We can’t do anything but practice it. ”
then?” the mayor asks.
“Well, the statement
is submitted to the responsible cardinal, and then the sentence will be laid
Vatican is not very progressive in its jurisprudence. But nobody will be sentenced
to be burned alive anymore. It’s just because of air pollution. But in total,
the punishment is in accordance with the papal encyclical of 1235. ”
week, for example, a gardener of the Vatican was whipped for being drunk at
work. When he was pulled out in front of the spectators and tied, he screamed
so loud that the executioner had to gag him. He got thirty strokes. And after about
twenty he did he stop fighting. ”
our Monsignore will be publicly whipped?”
depends on what he confesses during the interrogation. But the death penalty is
confessed very rarely.”
penalty? You still impose the death penalty? ”
“As I said,
this is very very rare. The last was Bishop O'Brian from America. However, he obviously
had put an eye on one of the Cardinals lovers. They should have been wheeled.
has pardoned the little priest. He was hung then. But he had no mercy with the
fat bishop. He put him on the wheel. At first he was quite calm when the
servants tied his hands and feet to the scaffold.”
The man is
standing with his legs spread apart, stretching out his arms to the side.
him in this position on a rack.”
The mayor looks
at the priest, who swallows dryly, rubbing his wrists involuntarily.
the servants stretched him, he just groaned a bit. He did start to scream when
the executioner raised the iron bar. "Mama!” He yelled and cried,
like a little child. But the executioner did not bother at all. He smashed his
iron rod against him, and broke his fat arms and legs. You cannot imagine the
noise of a breaking bone. At first the lower arms, then the upper ones. The shins
were even louder. The executioner had to hit the first thigh three times before
the bone finally crashed, just because the bishop was so fat. For the second
leg, he also needed two blows. All in all, the show lasted almost an hour. The bishop
had also fainted again and again and had to be awakened before the next bone
could be broken. At the end, the executioner smashed his chest. The blood swell
from his mouth and nose.“
the mayor whispers. His voice trembles and he wipes his head with a
“How can a
man be put to death so cruelly?”
“You are wrong,
Sir. The bishop was not dead yet. The Cardinal would have resented the
executioner if he had been. The bishop was fixed on the scaffold at shoulders
and hip and then was put upright to be displayed in the courtyard. The next
day, he still alive with his broken bones, the executioner was allowed to
redeem him. ”
horrible,” the mayor says aghast, “ he was still alive?“
he was. He realized everything. But at last the executioner put a rope around
his neck and strangled him. That was quite fast. ”
The man looks to
the priest, who sat down on the first bench heavily breathing and sweating.
may happen to you if try to avoid your arrestment and are captured
nevertheless. Anyway, he penalties for dignitaries are still quite drastic and
harder than for ordinary mortals. You will have to face a public execution in
any case and I am in doubt that it will be done with a few strokes with the
whip. You should expect to hang. ”
“You mean our
Monsignore will be hanged publicly?”
The man shrugs
slightly and describes in detail how the priest will be undressed and then hung
at the neck, slowly and with long breaks. The mayor and the other councillors
can hardly conceal their excitement. Each of them imagines the naked, fat
priest as he is pulled up at the neck by the executioner, struggling for his
life and slowly suffocating and ejaculating.
the pastor shouts. His face is painfully distorted.
the Cardinal sentences you to be impaled. This does not happen very often, but
if he wants to show that he has something to say, this may happen again. This
is, of course, a poor creaking. ”
stop,” the priest roars.
The man turns to
the city council.
condemned man gets his hands and feet tied on his back and then is placed on
the top of a greased wooden pile. When the first part has penetrated into the
intestine, the executioner lets him go and he slowly slips down. Some when the pile
comes out of his mouth again. Very often, the condemned person is still alive
then and only if the cardinal pardons him, the executioner may redeem him.
stares down to the ground. In his imagination he sees himself impaled in front
of the cardinal. With a distorted face he looks up to the mayor.
really pass me over to this justice?”
“I have to.
Just to save my own skin. I do not want to think about what’s going to happen
to me if it comes to public that I hid you.”
He looks at the
man who answers with a smile.
always prepared for the execution of several condemned.”
It remains quiet
for a while. Finally, the priest looks at the man.
can not sentence me to death just because I’m a bit fatter than others.”
“This may only
happen if I have to take you with me and you are condemned for gluttony. In
that case, your circumference is clearly against you. ”
“And if I
accept the punishment? What would happen to me?”
that case, I am empowered to execute a sentence.”
“I do not
know that. I received the verdict in a sealed letter. But what ever it is, you
will avoid a humiliating questioning and an execution in public. ”
The priest looks
down and kneads his hands. Finally, he gets up and stands in front of the man.
Donatelli, I have made a mistake and ask for the execution of the
The man turns to
the members of the city council.
I want to ask you to be available as witnesses during the execution of the
The mayor looks
around and accepts the approval of his council colleagues. They press into the
first two rows, and finally, only the man and the fat pastor stand in front of
I accept your request.”
The man takes a
letter out of the inner pocket of his jacket, breaks the seal, and holds it in
front of him.
of the Vatican condemns Monsignore Gentile to the following punishment because
of violating the laws of the Curia:
, Castigo con cento colpi di
You know what
that means? ”
The pastor swallows
dryly and nods. Of course he understands enough Italian to understand that he
is condemned to one hundred strokes with a cane.
yourself,” says the man, turns around and goes back a couple of rows.
The priest folds
his hands in front of his belly, closes his eyes and begins to pray silently.
When he opens his eyes again, the man stands with the cane in his hand two
steps ahead of him. He drops his hands slowly.
start. I’m ready.”
The man leaves
the fat pastor standing for a few seconds until the pastor looks at him
The priest turns
to the mayor and looks at him imploringly. But the mayor remains silent, and so
the priest begins to unbutton the cassock from the neck to the belly. He strips
it over the shoulders so that his upper body is exposed with the white,
sleeveless under shirt. In front of his belly he holds the cassock with both
hands and waits. But the man does not say anything. The priest looks at him a
little embarrassed and takes a step towards him.
please. I do not wear any pants. The summer and the heat, you know?” he
“I only ask
you to undress your cassock. So please. ”
“You do not
ask me seriously to present myself here in underwear in front the city
please. Or do you want to accompany me to Rome? ”
The fat pastor
sighs deeply, then opens one, two buttons more, looks up to the ceiling and
lets the cassock slip to his feet. Now he stands only in the shirt, large white
shorts, socks, and garters in front of his tormentors. As he lowers his gaze,
he looks into their grinning faces. They hardly can control themselves not to
laugh out loudly. Embarrassed, he plays with his fingers in front of his belly.
The fat pastor pulls
the shirt out of the shorts. In doing so, the waistband slides upwards over his
belly. Then he pulls it over his head and drops it down. The fat pastor is
nervous. He is embarrassed to stand with his naked fat belly in front of the
city council. He does recognizes how they are struggling not to lough and gets
a bit angry.
never seen a man in his underwear?”
councils roar with laughter and it takes a while until they have calmed down.
Monsignore. But we did not expect you to wear garters. ”
blushes. He fingers at his shorts, does not know what to do with his hands. In
front of him the man pulls out his jacket and puts it aside. He takes the cane
again and whips it through the air a few times, creating a sharp, whistling
Let’s get started.”
The fat pastor
swallows and wants to turn around slowly.
tell you to turn around?”
The fat pastor
slowly turns back again. Keeps hands clasped in front of his belly.
take you with me to Rome?”
The fat pastor slowly
shakes his head.
And now, please, stand in attention, raise your body and take your head up.”
slowly follows the commands. He straightens and lets his hands hang down at the
side. After all, he stands in front of the man.
hands on your back.”
hesitates, his fingers twitching uneasily.
tie you up?”
The pastor shakes
his head. Slowly he takes his hands backwards and clasps them on his back. He
is getting scared. Sweat beads on his forehead and he begins to tremble
your stomach out.”
The fat pastor
distorts his face. Tears are in his eyes as he bends back his upper body and by
this bulge his belly. The mayor on the bench grins and looks around. All the
councillors sit grinning in the bank rows, a few nodding approvingly. He turns
around again and sees the man approaching the pastor and reaching into the
waistband of his shorts, which is still high above his belly. The fat pastor slowly
shakes his head.
don’t do that. Not even my pants. ”
“No fear. I
just have to uncover your belly completely. ”
He pushes the waistband
downwards until it runs below the paunch of the fat priest and he has to
present his belly naked and unprotected. Then the man steps back and places
himself in front of his victim. He takes the cane into his right hand and lifts
it over his head. He hesitates once more, then he strikes.
One can hear the
whistling sound, and then the priest jerks, his hands quickly snapping at his
belly and he bends slightly forward. The man is waiting.
And stop moving or we’ll cancel the execution immediately. ”
The fat pastor nods.
He slowly gets up again. As he takes his hands back, he is trembling. Cold sweat
appears on his forehead and he realizes that his penis begins to stiffen. Silently
he begins to pray to control his erection. The man has already lifted his hand
again, and when the priest is leaning back, the cane whistles through the air
and draws a thin line on his white lard. Again the fat pastor twitches. But
this time he remains standing in position, presenting his paunch to the man for
the punishment. The man lifts the cane again and again and hits his victim from
left and right over his unprotected fat satchel. Quietly, evenly and precisely,
the blows hit the pastor’s white lard. The pastor holds his breath, moaning suppressed
at every stroke. Each blow creates a thin line, which becomes visible after a
few seconds later. But in between the next blows have already hit him. The
lines, which are barely visible at first, become darker and slightly bulge by
time. As the punishment goes on, the pastor’s pains increas. Tears run down his
face. Again and again, a piercing pain rushes through him when the cane hits
him and makes him moan softly. The man works precisely and systematically. He started
at the height of the navel where braces usually hold the waistband of the
priest’s trousers, and a slight, circumferential indention is visible. First,
the marks crawl upward one by one. The man moves slightly so that the straps
spread from the right, over the centre to the left side. Just before he reaches
the priest’s breasts, he stops. The priest breathes deeply. He believes that
his punishment is finished, relaxes his body, and bends his head forward to have
a look at his wounds.
your position again, Monsignore.“
The fat man
looks disbelieving at his counterpart. His mouth trembles and tears shoot into
he says with a trembling voice. “Please have mercy, please.”
the verdict is clear and has to be executed. So please take your position.”
The pastor looks
to the mayor, who shrugs his shoulders.
“I have no
influence. But I am sure you will make it.”
The priest takes
his hands on his back, looks upwards, and stretches his belly slightly forward.
He waits for the next strike, and suddenly realizes how his low hanging shorts
are getting wet and warm fluid is running down his legs. It only takes seconds until
he stands in a puddle of his urine and his socks are completely soaked.
pees,” he hears from the side.
He begins to sob
unhampered in fear and shame. Then the next blow hits him, this time below the
navel. Once again, Bat hits the bat. Exactly, evenly, rhythmically. The pastor
twitches at each stroke, tightens the upper body, and thus bends it slightly
backwards. Each blow leaves a new mark on the white lard that overlaps the
waist of his shorts. The marks slowly crawl downwards. But the man well trained
and avoids hitting the thighs or even the priest’s genitals. Finally, the belly
is covered from top to bottom with almost parallel red strokes. The man lowers
the cane and looks at his result. The fat pastor is standing there in wet
underpants, crying nearly noiseless. He has hardly moved his belly for
punishment and laid his head on his neck. The first bats on the navel have now
swollen to reddish caterpillars and the others will look exactly like this within
the next few minutes. The man stands next to the priest, puts a hand on his
neck and slightly presses against it. The pastor hesitates until he finally
stands straight again. The man puts himself once again in position, lifts the cane
and now alternately hits the fat priest’s breasts. He starts at the level of
the shoulders and hits the nipples precisely with the last two strokes. The fat
priest cries out in pain and can just prevent himself from falling to the
ground. The man looks at the priest from top to bottom and turns to the councillors
and the mayor.
verdict is enforced.”
stand up and clap their hands. He puts the cane aside and pulls his jacket on.
Then he turns to his victim. The priest still stands there, softly crying and
stretching his stomach forward. The man walks up to him, pets on his shoulder.
done, Monsignore. You may dress up again. ”
The fat man
takes his hands forward, and protects his wounded belly. He howls unrestrained
and he is still standing there, when the councillors leave the church. The
mayor takes the man aside briefly.
true with Rome?”
true. Failures of dignitaries may still end at the hangman. The Monsignore
knows this. Gluttony during the fasting period, for example, is something like
that; if it becomes public. But also a number of other things are still
sentenced with corporal punishments. ”
our monsignore have to expect?”
difficult to say that exactly. A cardinal at his own discretion determines the
sentence. As I said, nobody will be burned.”
do a punishment again here? Let’s say if I report another offense? ”
But some when Rome will no longer be avoidable. ”
The mayor looks
to the priest, who has dressed up again and leaves the church through the side
entrance with heavy steps.
The pastor opens
the front door and enters the house. Every movement hurts and he moans softly.
When he puts his hat on the wardrobe, his housekeeper looks out of the kitchen.
nice that you’re already there. The coffee is ready. ”
Signorina Agnes. But I don’t want anything at the moment. ”
He goes straight
into his room and closes the door. The housekeeper looks at him in
astonishment. She turns off the stove and sneaks to the bedroom door. Behind
the door she hears the priest silently groaning. She knocks cautiously.
“Can I do
anything for you?”
I’m fine. ”
She shrugs and
goes back to the kitchen. But she barely got there and hears the priest leaving
his room. She goes back, looks into the room and sees the blood stained lower
shirt lying on the chair. She turns back on the spot, goes to the bathroom and
pushes the latch down. The door is locked.
you open the door at once and let me help you.”
She hears the
priest walking behind the door. Then the key turns. The housekeeper carefully
opens the door. In front of her stands the fat priest with his naked belly in
his wide underpants and on socks with the black garters. His belly is covered
all over with bloody streaks. In one hand he holds a wet towel. Tears run down
happened to you?”
priest is able to say anything, the housekeeper touches one of the wounds with her
finger. The fat man twitches in pain and covers his belly
me,” he finally whimpers.
Vatican. And the whole town council was watching. ”
hurried to the phone, dials a number and waits.
have to come here immediately. Yes; il Monsignore. Something serious happened.”
She turns to the
Doctor’s will be here right away. Does your back look like that? ”
The fat pastor shakes
his head. The housekeeper gets his hand and takes him out of the bath.
me. There is something in my kitchen that will help you. ”
waddles behind her into the kitchen and watches her emptying the big table.
She begins to
rummage in some cupboards. When she turns around, the priest still stands.
what’s up? I have to nurse your wounds. ”
“I do not
think that’s necessary. You know, it does not hurt that much anymore. ”
stands close to him and again pushes a finger on one of the wounds. The fat man
twitches, groaning with pain.
be the doctor. And you lay on the table now. ”
The fat pastor
nods and goes to the table. He turns around, sits on top of it, lets his
massive body slowly sink to the side and turns on his back heavily. He groans in
pain. The housekeeper comes in with the young doctor. She helps the pastor
raise his feet on the table, whereas the fat man groans once more. The doctor
bends over him.
terrible. What happened?”
whipped. Isn’t that disgusting? ”
While the doctor
is still examining the pastor, the housekeeper fetches a large bottle from one
of the cabinets.
to go to the hospital. But first I’ll give you something against the pain.
rummages a box out of his pocket.
pain will subside immediately. ”
The pastor lets
his hands sink down beside his body, and lays his head back on the table.
not the hospital.”
not be possible to avoid it.”
Then the doctor notices
the housekeeper with the bottle in her hand.
home made medicine. Mainly olive oil, but with all kinds of herbs. I will put it
on the wounds, and then you’ll see how fast the pain vanishes. ”
The doctor looks
does not make anything worse. But the hospital … ”
And soon the
housekeeper pours a hefty shot on the priest’s belly and immediately begins to
spread the oil with the other hand. The fat pastor twitches as the housekeeper
touches him, but he immediately realizes how the oil starts to work and
really good,” he murmurs.
But now please tell me why you have been treated that way.”
“As a punishment,”
the fat man mumbles.
I would be immoderate and would not keep fasting. And that’s why I’m way too
The housekeeper again
puts a large shot of oil on the naked belly and distributes it with large,
“For me, a
good priest must have a proper stomach. What would anybody think about my
cooking? And my girl friends think the same way.”
The fat pastorsmiles
slightly. He realizes how a heavy fatigue falls upon him. The doctor is
astonished to see how the wounds are changing. They become paler and shrink.
Besides, he immediately notices the intense smell.
“May I ask
what’s in there?”
with a few herbs. Sage, lavender, camphor and a few other ingredients. ”
chance also marijuana?”
“Oh well. A
little. The stuff is growing in the garden like weeds and it helps. ”
illegal Signorina Agnes.”
She ignores the
doctor, rubs the priest’s belly and the doctor assists her. The pastor breathes
quietly and closes his eyes slowly. He begins to grunt as they oil up his lard
and gently massage it with their fingers. A pleasant warmth flows through him.
He breathes deeply and calmly, while his flayed paunch is caressed and kneaded.
The doctor looks at the fat man and feels the soft body under his hands. A few
weeks ago, when the monsignore was in his office, he had advised him to reduce
his weight. But now as he looks at him lying there and massaging his fat, he thinks
that he is all right. Of course the little pastor is too fat. But somehow
everything fits together. He is bit too small, but round and healthy. Then he
gently pushes the underpants down until the still covered part of his body is
naked. The priest wants to protest, raises a hand. But the housekeeper pushes it
back to the table.
“Just stay calm.
Nothing will happen to you. The doctor is a doctor and I was a nurse. ”
Nurse.” he says, visibly dazed.
The pastor lays
down again, groaning and painfully and cramping. The housekeeper pours another
shot of oil on the belly, and the doctor begins to rub the lower part of the
belly. He shortly slips with the oiled hand through the pubic hair of the pastor
and touches something hard, metallic. The doctor immediately has a suspicion.
Agnes, would you please leave us alone now?”
seen naked men very often. ”
sullenly leaves her kitchen. When the door falls into the lock, the doctor takes
a pair of scissors and carefully begins to cut the pastor’s shorts lengthwise.
The priest winds and groans painfully.
sin,” he murmurs, without being properly awake.
When the Doctor puts
the fabric aside, he sees his suspicion confirmed:
the priest’s penis and
testicles are forced into a cage of thin wires. The priest’s erected penis
squeezes through the interspaces. The doctor moves the cage slightly to see how
he could open it. But every movement lets the priest groan in pain. Still half
asleep he mutters again and again:
sin. Stop it. It’s a sin. ”
above all, a sin to mutilate oneself, Sir.”
He rummages in
the drawer of the table and actually finds a little pliers. Carefully he starts
to cut the wires one after the other and so slowly release the penis. The fat
man starts to mumble.
forgive me. Father, forgive me. ”
cage is removed from penis and testicles. It has left deep scratches and some
blood seeps out of a few injuries. The doctor takes a shot of the oil on one
hand and gently applies it on the pastors unprotected glans and then slowly,
carefully slips the pushed back foreskin over the glans again. Then he starts
to massage the oil gently onto the maltreated genitalia. The priest rolls from
side to side a few times half asleep. He notes how his penis slowly stiffens
for the first time in years without pain, and lets it do so willingly. Finally,
he is on his back again and grunts comfortably. The doctor is amazed at how
quickly the wounds heal.
good,” the pastor suddenly mutters.
shrugs briefly. He suddenly becomes aware that the small fat priest is naked, dressed
only with socks and garters; lies all oiled up on the kitchen table, and the
pastor’s erected penis gently slide through his hand. He opens his hand a
little frightened and places it on the priest’s thigh. He looks at the bouncing
penis, which shows no signs of slackening, and is really impressed that this
fat, rather old man is capable of such a solid and persistent erection. The
priest slowly opens his eyes and lifts his head. He looks at the doctor.
The doctor pets
The fat man
smiles and lies down again. The doctor takes another sip of oil in the palms of
his hands, gently holding the priest’s short but thick penis with one hand. He
pushes the foreskin back again and closes the dark red glans with his oily hand
while he begins to massage the priest’s testicles with the other. The fat man groans gently, beginning to move his hips easily.
The doctor feels the movements and opens the hand so that the glans glides through
his hand only gently touched by his fingers.
The minutes pass by. The fat
priest rolls his body slowly from side to side and moves his hard penis in the
hand of the doctor. He groans deeply at every breath, and now and then his
massive body trembles in excitement. The priest suddenly cries out dark and
loud and wakes up. Slowly he perceives that the groaning and snorting sounds
are his own. Hesitantly, he opens his eyes. Then suddenly he becomes aware of
what is happening. He gasps for air with his red face, blows out the air with bloated
cheeks. He bends his legs as if to fight back. But he is much too excited to
really want that.
he repels. He is close to ejaculate and starts to bump with his pelvic
violently. The doctor notices how some sperm appears on the tip of the dark red
glans. He wonders if it is perhaps due to the herbs that this fat little man is
capable of such a powerful and long lasting erection as suddenly the fat body
cramps, and under the pastor’s twitching movements the sperm ejects explosion like
in a thick beam.
Two, three times a beam shoots out and the sperm spreads in
thick blots on the oily belly of the pastor before his orgasm changes to a
pulsating flow of sperm. The pastor only remotely records that he winds,
diabolically twitches with the pelvic, and a surge of sperm rushes out of his
penis. At the same time his eyes turn back and a deep, grunting sound escapes his
wide opened mouth. Two, three times, he pounces with the pelvic. Then his fat
body relaxes and he is lying on the table gasping for air. The doctor takes his
hand away from the priest’s genitals. He gets up, wipes the thick dripping sperm
from his hands and cleans the priest. He has to smile as he discovers a drop of
sperm on the priest’s left breast and with a small movement wipes it away. Once
again he looks down at the small, round pastor who is now lying deeply snoring
on the table. He takes another tablecloth and covers him with it.
Hours later the
priest wakes up. Frightened, he realizes that he is still lying on the kitchen
table and is completely naked. He cumbersome gets up and rolls off the table,
covering himself with the tablecloth.
asleep. And because I couldn’t get you to bed, I just let you sleep here. Do
you still have pains? ”
The priest runs
his belly with one hand.
“No. Just blown
away. You are a sorceress. ”
He wants to turn
around to leave the kitchen, when a piercing pain in the testicles makes him
squirm. He gets dizzy and has to lean at the table. The housekeeper realizes
this and says smiling:
just a few side effects. But it’s over within an hour. And tomorrow you should
visit the doctor; after the regular opening hours. ”
course,” the priest stammers, waddling on socks out of the kitchen. On his
way to his bedroom he lets his hand slip down to his genitals and frightens as
he touches his penis. It is unprotected.
The whole next
day the pastor was upset. How could this doctor do that? Without his permission?
Even when he
enters the office he is in a rage. He wants to excoriate the doctor, but before
he is able to start his rumble the doctor apologizes. The pastor did not expect
that. And the doctor does not only apologize, he also shows understanding and
places a number of cock cages on his desk. All certified to prevent intentional
or unwanted masturbation and sperm drainage without causing damage to the
The priest is
amazed. When the doctor puts bottle of red wine and two glasses on the table,
his face is brightens.
They talk for
hours; about knowledge and faith, morality and action, love and hate, God and
the world. The little fat priest understands why the doctor had to ignore his
vow to avert mutilations and the doctor understood why the priest had to lock
up his genitals in anticipation not to do the same as many of his religionists.
It was at dawn,
when the little, fat priest chose one of the cages and got his penis locked by
the doctor. The cage was heavy; solid; trustworthy.
promised to visit the Sunday services more often and to also to meet the pastor
in the trattoria. And the priest promised to visit the doctor for an
examination every six weeks.
This may be an odd question but; is there such thing as 'Christian Wicca' I'm Christian and such brought up that way by family and blah blah - but I don't exactly believe everything I hear that way - I have done some research on Wicca and Paganism and some aspects of it; I was just curious if there was a way to follow a path without fully giving up a christian like belief system? Any help would be greatly appreciated.
Hey there, this is actually a question I’ve been asked several times and while some people disagree with me I have to firmly say “no.” I am sorry for the essay long post I am about to embark upon. But I’ve thought really long and hard about why I think that these two religions are mutually exclusive from one another. Also, I took way too many comparative religion classes.
Because being Wiccan means you believe in the God and the Goddess. You see them as equals and opposites. They are the opposing energies that make up the world and the life in it.
As a Wiccan you believe in the Three Fold Law and the Wiccan Rede. These are integral to the practice of the faith.
There are several problems with trying to reconcile practicing these two faiths at the same time.
1) People have made the argument that Wiccans see all gods and goddesses who have been worshiped throughout time as aspects of the God and Goddess, so why not use them in the Wiccan faith, why not just replace the Goddess with the Virgin Mary and the God with the Christian God? And at first I was like, “Yeah why not?”
Then I thought about it, and the more I thought about it the less it clicked.
Why? Because the God and Goddess are supposed to be equals. And the Virgin Mary and God are not depicted that way. In truth on multiple occasions throughout the Bible and throughout the history of its use women have been vilified and belittled.
There is an instance in the Bible where a woman who was raped was given to her rapist as a wife. (Judges, Chapter 19 verses 24-25)
A woman was called a possession, That she should be subjugated with silence. And that a woman could never have any authority over a man (Timothy, Chapter 2, verses 11-14)
A wife belonged completely too the man who married her and she couldn’t say no to anything he said…no matter what. (Ephesians, Chapter 5, verses 22-24)
And don’t even get me started on Ecclesiastics…dude had some serious issues. That whole section is riddled with hate against women.
Why does this matter? Why can’t you just say that you believe in god but you think women are neat? Can’t you just ignore the bible?
No, you can’t. No more than a Wiccan can ignore the Rede.
Also, Because the female energy is so vigorously ignored or hated in the Christian religion. If you are Wiccan you believe that female energy creates. It is worshiped and admired. Every person has the energy of the Goddess alive within them…you cannot belittle this energy and the vessel of its creation.
And no…it’s not in the past. Just look around and you’ll know that to be true.
2) Thou shalt have no other Gods before me. This is a Christian commandment. It’s very straightforward and strict. It does not leave a lot of leeway room here, now does it? As a Wiccan there are holidays and moments when the Goddess is above and revered more than the God.
I always found it funny that the Bible didn’t say that there weren’t other gods…only that you can’t worship them. Neat.
3) If you don’t agree with 99.9% of a faith then you probably shouldn’t be practicing it. Take that in. I know that sounds really rude and strict but note I’m not telling you what you should practice. I’m telling you that I know, for a fact, that a lot of people cling to a faith because it is a way of connecting with your family and friends. The moment you tell people of strict religions that you aren’t one of them you can become very outcast.
Trust me. I know.
But I am telling you to be brave. I am telling you that it’s okay to step away from something that you don’t believe in. You don’t have to make any decisions about your faith or your beliefs right away. It’s okay.
Christianity has something a lot of other faiths don’t have. it has the divine fear factor. Christianity states that if you don’t believe in God and follow his way you will end up burning for eternity. That’s actually a really great religious sales pitch. “Hey, we got this faith over here, all you gotta do is accept Jesus, go to church and you will spend eternity in Heaven. And if you don’t, you gotta go to this place of pain, death, and torture.”
Wow. That’s rude. And terrifying. So there is a LOT of fear about leaving the Christian church.
4) Okay, now my final concern here is that you are using the term Wiccan and Witchcraft interchangeably. Wicca is a belief system. Witchcraft is a skill and talent. You can be a Christian Witch…but your own faith kinda frowns on that, don’t believe me? Look up Maleus Maleficarum.
I’m sorry for making this sort of a rant. But I think this subject matters.
E depois, A luz se apagou E eu não consigo mais ficar sozinho aqui Sem você é tão ruim, não tem sentido, prazer Não há nada Por favor, Não me interpreta mal Eu não queria nem devia te magoar O vento vem, o tempo vai Passa por mim meio assim, meio assim devagar Vou dormir sentindo O que a solidão pode fazer Há um ser ferido, por saber que o erro era meu (só meu) Já passou, Agora já passou Mas foi tão triste que eu não quero nem lembrar Ver você, ter você E querer mais de nós dois não tem nada demais E pensar Você aparecer Pela janela tão bonita de manhã Vem pra mim e não vai mais Me abraça, me abraça, me abraça Por tudo que for…