Archive of Our Own ^beta

The corridors are empty when Danielle slips past the iron doors, clad in nothing but her night gown, a cotton robe sewn with silk that did little to ward of the chill of early autumn. The fog seeps in through the cracks of the wall, giving the room a haunting look- further enhanced by the empty chapel and rows of seats and the single lone lit candle at the alter under the lords feet.

Danielle quickly makes her way towards it, finding place right before the altar. Her hands clasp just as the mothers had done when they prayed for evening supper and tears of frustration slip down her cheeks without prompt.

“Father,” she whispers, her voice echoing in the room, bouncing off against the wall. “I’m aware I haven’t been the most devoted or the most faithful lately,” -skipping bible lessons to secure maps, missing morning hymns in favour of reading the current news and marking paragraphs that promised the offer of escape, sneaking out after noon lessons to note down what boat fare she could afford if she sold some of her jewelry- “nor have I done anything to deserve your grace and kindness,” she admitted, her shoulders shaking, “but please,” Danielle pleaded, clasping her hands so tight, her nails threatened to pierce open the skin while the cross emblem clasped inside promised to etch a mark onto her palms, “please guide me to the right path so that I may escape this city altogether. Please father, I ask for nothing more.”

With her mother unreachable in foreign lands, too far to even send a telegram, and her fathers grave long growing moss over the hills behind Wayne Manor, there was no one for Danielle to turn to save for the one above. No one to seek guidance from, no one to rely on during the worst of the days and ultimately no one to hear her sorrows and woes

Danielle hadn’t been the slightest bit religious when she landed on the ports of Gotham, yet here she was, placing all of what remained of her faith into the hands into what could be her last chance of hope. That somehow her mother would find her way back to Danielle so that she could escape this hell that was Timothy Drake, her brother in paper and in the eyes of the law.

The sun hadn’t yet set the day their father was buried before Timothy made his advances. Cornering her in one of the salons of the manor, begging for her hand. He promised to make her his bride should he refuse either ways. Danielle hadn’t waited for another minute before she packed up whatever belongings she might need in a case and fled to the farthest monastery she knew, believing it would let her escape his foul grasp.

Yet all her efforts were for naught, for she had seen the Wayne emblem on a carriage in passing on her way to town to pick up the weeks necessities.

She had no doubt Timothy was here, or the fact he was hunting her.

She could only hope that by the time he found her, she would already find a boat to escape. “Please do not let that bastard find me.”

“For someone who misses their morning prayers so often, you sure have a way with words.”

Heart thundering in her chest, Danielle whipped around- pulling out the hunting knife she kept on her at all times, aiming it towards whoever had the gall to sneak up on her.

Father Richard smiled, showing off his deep dimples as the end of the knife promised to plunge into his jugular. Danielle gasped and instantly retracted the knife, shoving it back into its sheath and pulling out her handkerchief to dab at the beads of blood blooming where the pointed edge met skin. “Forgive me, I held the belief I was alone. Your presence surprised me.”

“As I am aware.” He chuckled, lightly taking hold of the wrists fussing over him and gently pulling them away. His skin, rough and calloused from the work around the church, burned where they touched. Not the kind that left Danielle revolted but rather the type that had heat blooming across her face when she realized how close they were. More so when his blue eyes twinkled at her, the shadow of the candle highlighting the beauty of his face. “You are aware that the church is open in the morning as well? I believe there is no need to sneak around once everyone is set to bed. You may slink away during my class time, I promise not to hold it against you.”

“I apologize father." Shame painted her cheeks red again,  if only for being caught by the man she admired. "There has been a lot on my mind these days. A pitiful excuse but it has burdened me a great deal.”

“The lord listens to our woes and our sorrows. He will surely understand.” He gestured toward the prayer seat beside them, a curved marble under the foot of Saint Longinus, holding his spear and dressed in the typical uniform Roman soldiers’ donned. One hand outstretched to pierce Jesus, while the other offered a hand to the empty room. Father Richard took the opportunity to light another the candle while Danielle made herself comfortable on the seat, watching his back ripple as he stretched his hand so that the flame could dance between the two interconnected candles. She did her best to smother down her appreciative look when he turned back, the light making him see holy and untouchable. “But I find it helpful when my fellow convents lend me an ear now and then. Perhaps you’d like to try?”

Her mouth turned dry as he took a seat next to her, so close she could smell ink he used to scribble on parchment earlier that that. His eyes implored her to speak her mind and in the silence of the room where the world outside seemed negligent, father Richards offer seemed to beckon her like a siren might. “I suppose I might. If it isn’t a bother.”

“Of course not.” He laughed. “What worries you my dear?”

Her stomach filled with butterflies, fluttering dangerously close to her ribcage and throat that she wouldn’t be surprised if their corpse fell out her mouth if she opened it. They seemed to grow in number the longer Father Richard smiled at her, offering her his companionship.

It made her believe all the more that Father Richard was a trustworthy man.

“I am in a predicament you see.” She confesses, her words coming out rushed. She forces herself to slow down as Father Richard comfortingly pats her hand, strewn across her lap along with the dagger. “I must escape.” She continues. “My brother, Timothy, you may have heard of him, has been looking for me. He holds lustful attraction for me, one I do no reciprocate.” How long Danielle was unsure of, perhaps as soon as her father brought that parasite home “I came to this covenant to be free of his grasp. Yet here he is, barging into town to drag me back.”

There was no where for her to run.

Even if women were now able to get jobs, the hardships of war opening new job opportunities for both man and woman alike, the likelihood of Timothy leaving her alone were slim to none. So long as Danielle was within this wretched country, she was sure Timothy would find a way to find her. And so long as she remained a woman, the chances of suing her brother for her fathers possession in court and winning were even less. No man in the high court would chose the true born bastard daughter rather than the legally tied son to the head of the household and as long as Timothy had the Wayne name under his boot, there was no possible way for Danielle to live comfortably and out of hiding so long her brother lived.

“I am frightened father, I fear what he may do to me should he catches hold of me.” Her hands trembled in her lap. "I do not wish to return with him.

When she glanced up, Father Richards jolly mood retreated, replaced with something somber and dark.

“And you are certain he holds such attraction for you.”

Fear tickled her spine.

A foolish emotion since she had no reason to fear Father Richard.

Danielle cleared her throat, adjusting her robe that had slipped down her shoulders before releasing a sardonic laugh into the night air. “More than anything else.”

With disgust rolling in her guts, she shook her head remembering the night he tried to force herself onto her. “He has made his interest abundantly clear.” Hands on her hair. Her waist. Under her skirt. Ghosting over her cunt. “Claimed he couldn’t resist my temptation since I-”

“Of course he couldn’t. Look at you.”

“-seemed to-“ Danielle’s speech trailed off.

Heavy, horrifying silence overtaking the low murmur of their chatter.

For the first time tonight, Danielle was aware that she was in a room alone with a man. Away from the dormitories and rooms, with everyone either asleep or away. “Pardon?” She quietly whispered praying she heard him wrong.

“Dressed in nearly nothing. Strategically leaving your hair uncurled. Glancing up at him with those eyes.” A finger curled under her chin. Danielle made no move of resistance as the large hand turned her to face Father Richards chilling grin. “You truly expect me to believe you weren’t trying to entice him?” Father Richards voice, once warm and inviting, now turned as cool as the infamous fire from hell. Submerging the room in a chill that had nothing to do with the September breeze.

“That- that is a preposterous accusation you are making Father.” She stuttered out, eyes placed firmly on the cross on his neck in order to avoid looking up at him.

Those blue eyes that seemed so warm as he played with the children, helped the injured and comforted the disturbed, now seem to radiate something so sinister- Danielle instinctively reached out to clutch her cross only to remember she left it behind when her hands wrapped around nothing.

Father Richard followed the movement of her hand and laughed when Danielle flashed her panic, fear-stricken face up at him. He watched with a great deal of amusement as the fear grew when he raised his hand and played with the hem of her nightgown, snapping the thin strap on her bare shoulder.

“Even as we sit and stow in silence, your nipples tent your dress. Tell me Danielle, if I were to dip a finger inside of you right now, would I find it wet?”

Danielle’s cheeks burned as bright as the candle behind her. Not just for his crude words but because his claim wouldn’t entirely be false.

She’d been wet the minute she recognized that the person behind her was Father Richard.

Nearly everyone in the monastery harbored some form of affection over the father, quite handsome and young he was. Being merely thirteen, Danielle knew the chances of ever catching his attention was impossible when there were older man in the covenant with bustier chests and enticing hips.

But to have his attention like this… Danielle should’ve been thankful for the days he spent with his head turned the other way.

She slapped his hand away when Father Richard reached out with both hands towards her. The sound echoing in the vacant room. Behind her, both candles flickered ominously.

“I should go.” She stood up suddenly, feeling lighter than when she came. The hall connecting to her room was long but if she sprints- she could use the maze like structure to throw Father Richard off her tracks. “I have taken much of your time, it is time I retire for the night. Thank you for lending me an ear fathe-“

“Stay.” His voice was utter ice. Dangerously cold. Danielle glanced down at her shoes as she heard the ‘clack’ of Father Richards shoes come towards her until she could see the edge of the sleek black align in front of her.

She lowly murmured, trying to hide the tremble in her voice, “I believe that would be unwise.”

“Oh please.” He scoffed. In a flash he grabbed ahold of her face, this time albeit less gentle. “Drop the noble act, Danielle” His fingers let go of her chin, instead migrating down to feel her waist. “You dress like a harlot and expect your brother to not take advantage of what is right in front of him? You expect me? You go ahead and run like a tease and then whine and bemoan of your circumstances when you’ve invited such calamity upon yourself.”

The last sentence is what breaks her out of her stupor, gaining enough sense to push him away. “I do not do anything of the sort!” She snarled. “I came here to pray and you shoved your perverted desires onto me. I wished to mourn my father and my brother admits to lusting me. I merely exist and you depraved men come running to grab ahold of me.” She was panting by the end of her lashing, fists curled up into balls on her side. Whereas Father Richard simply looked bored over her tantrum. Danielle’s fists tightened deeper and she hissed, “I have escaped his grasp before. More than once. I will do it again if the time comes- Even if the result promises devastation.”

Her words rang through the room, floating between them, temporarily acting as a barrier.

“So you claim you’ll do anything to escape his grasp.” Father Richard mumbles. His hair had long fallen out of his combed hair do, fanning across his face, covering parts of his eyes and curling around his ear. She was reminded of the portraits of fallen angels, their devastating charm and grace. “Even if it means tumbling into ruins of your own making?”

The words were weighed, holding a meaning greater than what Danielle had time to comprehend. She raised her chin, trying not to let the worst of her fears show. “I would. Without a flicker of hesitation.”

The grin father Richard gifted her was the same as those very angels as they hung up their halos and shed their wings to embrace hell and its promise of eternal suffering.

“Then let me help you.”

Danielle screeched as hands grabbed her by the shoulder, pushing down until the edge of the statue dug between her shoulder blades. She pounded her fists on Father Richards chests, even when they seemed to have no effect on the man who slotted himself comfortably in between her thighs.

Her robe slipped down her back, pooling where her bottom met the stone edge, leaving her in a thin lace undershirt that once belonged to her mother. Goosebumps erupted over her arms and legs, and the sudden chill made her remember the dagger she brought along for times like this. She shot her hand down in hopes of grabbing the hilt of her knife, only to find the sheath empty, her fingers wounding around air.

The memory of Father Richard grabbing her hand, right where the knife was, flashed in front of her as a cruel reminder of her stupidity.

Above her Father Richard chuckled, nosing under her ear where the shell met the beginning of her jawline, tearing her robes and leaving it in an unrepairable mess on the floor.

“Usually, I don’t have to try to get the younger girls in to my arms. They seem to find their way into my bed without much trouble or a need for direction.” He was a large man, almost twice the size as her. He had no problem pinning her down even as Danielle struggled with all her might, kicking, scratching, biting. He just continued with his story, humming as he gathered her flailing arms, using her robe belt to tie a tight knot against the pole of Saint Longinus’ spear.

“I refused them all, in case you didn’t know. I had a vow to follow, an example to set, besides they weren’t nearly as appealing; but you Danielle,” she watched with horror in her eyes as he looked down at her, love struck like a fool, “stupid girl, you just had to walk in looking like sin and damnation.” The words were sighed out reverence. Wonder. Awe. Like he honest to God believed that Danielle was salvation promised from above. “You provoked a father to give into his desire, imagine what a lesser man had to face? Could you truly blame your brother for wanting you? Could you blame me for desiring you?”

“You’re both the same breed of low-class.” She spat out venomously even as her struggles lessened the longer Father Richard grated his hips against her cunt- sliding his bulge right under her clit in a way that sent sparks of pleasure tingling behind her eyes.

“Yet here you are, moaning like a street-sold harlot.” Before she knew it, he reached behind, seeking the knot at her nape that held her gown. By the time she noticed his wandering hands, the thin scrap of fabric fell, exposing her heaving breast for father Richards perverted gaze. “Don’t fret, my dear,” he kissed the swell of her tits, licking whatever sweat and natural oil gathered, and moaned. Burying his face as deep as he could. “You’re far too beautiful to be mistaken for one.”

“I will kill you.” She promised, hiccupping in effort to hide her tears as he made his way down towards the space in between her legs. It was no use, they slipped free without her consent, landing atop the same stone slab Father Richard forced her to lie upon. This way she could see the eyes of Saint Longinus across her, his benevolent smile, his kind eyes, his offered palm, all stretched towards the room, without sparing a glance towards Danielle who lied at the bottom of his feet, under the mercy of crazed man who licked his way inside of her as if her cunt held the promise of liberation from whatever sufferings he carried on his back.

Here she was, gown torn, skirt bunched to her hips, naked cunt dripping onto his slab after the Father pocketed her undergarment- set to be defiled underneath him. Under the one she had come to in order to seek help.

“I do not appreciate your mind travelling elsewhere while I am here pleasuring you. Has my performance dulled you already?”

A finger prodded at the ends of her fold, leisurely stroking along her labia, gathering slickness on fingers. Even though she could not strain her neck enough to see what exactly he was doing, she could feel the glide of cold metal against her inner thighs, leaving her shivering. “Go to hell bastard.”

Father Richard clicked his tongue, his mark of endless patience starting to retreat in favor of show casing his wanton desire. Danielle received no warning whatsoever as he plunged two of his fingers into her parting, curling cruelly against the sponge of her cunt. She sobbed, loud and unabashed, as Father Richard stretched her further, spreading her walls without any mercy and catching every bit of wetness dripping out of her with his mouth.

“Such a foul mouth you have. Even with no one around.” Richard mumbled against her quivering cunt, ignoring the way Danielle humped empty air, seeking the pleasure of his tongue. “I believe Sister Donna has a bar of soap to use for the likes of you but,” blue eyes flashed dangerously from between her legs, “that would be too lenient for you.”

“What-“ her heart pounded harshly in her chest, almost threatening to burst out. She watched with thinly veiled fear as Father Richard grabbed ahold of the candle he kept aside, shooting her a charming smile when their eyes met. “What do you plan to do with that?”

“This?” He hummed, twirling the candelabra around. “Oh nothing truly. Just,” he tilted the holder, giving Danielle enough time for fear to set in, “this.”

Large drops of wax, freshly melted, splattered over her skin of her abdomen and the valley between her breasts, stopping just shy the hollow of her throat. “Oh!”

Father Richard steadied her hips with his spare hand and carefully continued to drizzle the wax over her navel, watching the liquid sizzle in little bead-like droplets upon contact before freezing in place, hardening into opaque stamps across her stomach and chest. They fell periodically, swiftly hardening over the scorched skin, leaving Danielle buzzing as her nerves lit up from the scorching sting. 

Lovingly, he caressed her face, taking care to tuck the strands sticking to her face behind her ear. “You have such wonderful skin. Truly one befitting a noble lady’s. I’d hate to see it scar. That’s why, I want you to play nice. We wouldn’t want an accident to happen, do we?”

She didn’t get a chance to reply. Father Richard dribbled the wax over her body with the precision of an archer and with enough Grace as one of the pianists they hired for Sunday sermon. He kept a tight hold as Danielle struggled against her binds, the sizzling of the wax turning unbearable the longer Father Richard kept going. Across the sensitive flesh of her arms in long strips and lines, a bridge way over her ribs where he created patterns of swirls, dipping into her navel as if it were an orifice to be filled and the pits of her collarbone where the wax took longer to cool.

From above, he smiled down at her as if he were cleansing her of sin.

Maybe he was.

But Danielle could only see Timothy's smarmy smile in the place of Father Richards loving grin. 

“Die.” She whispered, the pain making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. She wasn’t ignorant to the way her cunt was still dripping or how one of his hands returned back inside her walls to keep her well-stretched. “Bastard. Rapist. Scum of the earth.”

A quick pinch to her clitoris had Danielle writhing from pain pleasure once again. There would be chaffing marks all over her wrists when all this finally ended.

“And here I thought we could be friends.” Father Richard sighed.

He made a show of pulling his fingers out, licking the excess wetness much to Danielle’s mortification. “I suppose my lesson from earlier wasn’t example enough. No matter.” His smile stretched around the fingers in his mouth, his twinkling eyes remind Danielle of the stone statues outside the corridor, their face carved into the epitome of beauty. The image shattered when Father Richard raised the candle holder once again now that a considerable amount of wax pooled at the bottom. “We have ample time to set yourself straight.”

Danielle wasn’t unfamiliar with the sensation of being burned. Her father had once got a fancy lighter from his trade companions and when he tried showing off the dancing blue and green flames, Danielle had stupidly reached out to grab it. She had spent the rest of the day dunking her hand in egg yolks and yoghurt. It was a blinding hot pain that left her screeching, feeling the sting of a hundred knife cuts across her palm and fingers for many days after. But now-

“That’s it sweet girl.” He sighed in time with her screams. “Sing for me.”

It burned just the same. But in some ways, even better.

Wax, freshly melted, blazing hot, splattered across her body without care. The devil above her held the candelabra with the carelessness of a drunk earl carrying his win cup and spilled the contents like one too, causing her body to flare with each drip of the wax in time with the pulse of her cunt. Moans and whimpers pushed out in tandem with the twists and curls of his fingers, poking and prodding inside her walls as more wetness seeped out from her core, staining the ends of one sleeve while his other hand was preoccupied aiming the candle over the more sensitive and tantalizing parts of her flesh.

His favorite seemed to be her nipples, now scarlet red and swollen with blood beneath the skin. He flicked them every now and then, sometimes accompanied by the warm suction of his mouth as his tongue laved over the peaks in apology. Swirling them before teeth tightly clasped her areolas and he tugged without mercy. All while the stupid candle dripped onto the other breast in short, swift successions.

His hair tickled her chest where his head laid against her bosom, eyes closed and content and suck her tits. The statue of Mother Mary with baby Jesus cradled in her arms flashed across Danielle's and the image wilted as she remembered that the man was the antithesis of everything innocent and holy. Left with nowhere to look save his face, Danielle could do nothing more than stare up at the statue above her, reciting every known prayer for mercy as his fingers stroked her to an edge of orgasm, helping her reach her peak.

But then, seemingly bored of hearing her chants, Father Richard raised his head from her chest, sighing tiredly. “Your peculiar sense of timing for lesson never ceases to amaze me. Tell me,” he inquires, redacting his fingers from the warmth of her twitching cunt, effectively ruining her orgasm. Wiping the excess fluid on her breast, he grasps the meat of her thigh, raising her leg over his shoulders to press a fleeting kiss on the swell of her ankle. His other hand reaches to grab the candelabra he set aside momentarily. “Do you enjoy provoking me?”

“I have done no such thing.” Danielle hissed, fruitlessly trying to pull back her leg.

“No? I find myself irritated nonetheless- at your lack of participation. Maybe this will rectify that.”

With another tilt of his hand lightning hot bursts of pain explode over her mound where Father Richard dropped a considerable amount of the molten liquid. It seeped down, pooling over her downy hair, solidifying just over the tip of her clit. Not that it mattered. Because the next drop landed right where her sensitivity was heightened the most, sending Danielle into a state of pleasure-pain so grand, she shook in Father Richards’s arms, eyes nearly rolling back. "Aah!"

Father Richard took his place in between her legs once again, the fly of his slack now undone. Danielle had yet to see his appendage but the size of the bulge pressing against her dripping pussy promised pain and pleasure if he were to insert it. Fear promised to choke her as Father Richard started rocking their hips together, sliding her further up the altar slab.

“There we go,” He cooed, swiping a stray curl away from her face tenderly. “What a lovely sight.”

“Ohh.” Danielle gasped, eye lashes fluttering. Her breasts bounced with her heaves and the bastard took the opportunity to grab a handful and massage the flesh to his hearts content, occasionally scraping his nail to see Danielle writhing cause of his hard work. The other hand carelessly tiled the candle plate until a thin line of droplets formed over her flesh, extending for her outer thigh till the narrow space where the thigh and mound met. Her skin darkened with blood, turning a shade of red before cooling down to patches of maroon, making her nerves pulse in time with her heartbeat and clit who seemed to enjoy every ounce of pain inflicted on them. "Mphm, ohh."

“I need to get my hands on one of those cameras they sell in the big city. It should be a sin to not capture how gorgeous you look, dripping like this.”

Danielle would reply, something scathing, something mean. But Father Richard raised the candle once again from a considerable height, and dropped the last bits of the wax over her cunt, the wax sizzling as it pooled down her labia, assaulting Damian with the smell of paraffin and incense. Enwrapping her in pain so intense in caused her to black out, vision turning white and hearing fading into silence.

The last thing she remembered seeing was Father Richard taking hold of something in his hands and aiming it between her legs.

When she came to, she could distinctly feel something moving within her, a set of legs bumping against hers and a large pair of hands bruising her thighs with uncontrolled and careless strength. Her hands were still tied to the post above when she tried tugging them and the first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was Fathers Richards length spearing in and out of her cavern, wet and slick with her blood.

Tear drops fell from eyes again as she realized that she was truly ruined for good.

Even so her traitorous body clenched tightly down onto the cock below, eliciting a series of curses from the man who granted her an eternal place in hell.

From above Saint, seemed to be laughing at her, his smile twisted and sinister and Danielle watched as the candle in his hand Father Richard lit mere minutes ago, threatened to drop another stream of wax onto their flushes bodies, clinging to the edge of the scone before dripping atop Danielle's navel, joining the other specks of wax adorning her body, another mockery of the Saints alliance.

Just then Father Richard reached his peak, hips stuttering in a frantic pattern, fingers clumsily rolling over her bud until Danielle could feel her orgasm sneak up, akin to a gentle tide quietly slipping ashore. It washed over her gently, painlessly, embracing her like her mother had before she was abandoned to be under her fathers care.

Danielle had never felt as much rapture and agony before this moment tonight.

“Don’t cry now.” Father Richard comforted. He fell back atop her chest, panting into her neck before seeking out her lips. “Your brother will never think of touching you again. Not after today. You will only ever have to depend on me if you wish to keep your place here at the convent from now onwards.”

'Perhaps.' Danielle admitted as the foul man parted her mouth with his tongue, licking into the cavern and taking his sweet time to explore. Now that Timothy would no longer seek to make her his bride, Danielle would have to rely entirely on Father Richards good graces to keep her place inside the monastery.

If she wanted to that is.

Not that she had any need to linger now that Danielle's purpose was accomplished.

With the cum seeping out of her and her torn broken hymen as evidence of her shameless unholy act with the father meant that no covenant would care to take her in now that she was damaged. Every where she'd go she'd be shut out or refused.

And if she were to present that evidence in sermon tomorrow, framing father Richard as the culprit in front of all which he'd ultimately deny, perhaps the convent would be kind enough to send her packing on a boat themselves, finding her a ferry to ship her away. Danielle had specifically chosen this convent, famed for their reputation of stowing their secrets in foreign lands. A plan she had no certain hope would succeed.

But now, with Father Richard thrusting inside her once again, already hard and dripping into her cum-filled cunt- Danielle could only lay back, staring at Saint Longinus, and thank him for making the Father so easy tempt.

She knew it would be a good idea to come seek guidance at night.