She Will Be Judged; Chapter 5

Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. It was filth everywhere. The walls were stained with faeces and mud, blood drained from the toilet bowl. There was even a stench that could be smelt; of rotted flesh and infectious puss. Even though the toilet seat was far from clean, she sat down tentatively, but then found herself rising in an unforeseen state of arousal. The oozing, creamy texture of the wet soil, the warm stick of the shit, intertwined to create pleasure and disgust. Dirty, feral, sickening, all the more enthralled her with surprise. Her bare backside, massaged against the foul excrements stimulating the sexual fusion within her.

She rubbed against it more and more heightened the rapidity of the kneading. It felt good, fucking amazing, twistedly satisfying. But in her subconscious she knew it was wrong, sick, and disgraceful. Why am I enjoying this? What is wrong with me? But she continued, continued to endure the vile copropilic pleasure, grinding up and down against the corner of the toilet seat. It was only a second until the cubicle door opened to reveal a faceless figure in the nude. A muscular male, covered in hair. Almost animal like. He came over and turned her around, pinning her against the wall above the toilet. She loved it, but was revolted by it. He enjoyed the disease like thrill of filth. I’m a bad girl, an unclean girl. Bang me hard, don’t stop. Drill me. She was anally penetrated by this mystery male, and the harder he did it, the louder she groaned. I’M SO DIRTY!

“Maria! Maria! Wake up!” she was being shaken copiously; the grip was firm and tainted by fear. “Maria for goodness sake! What is wrong with you?” She gathered consciousness instinctively at the implication. Her blurred morning vision mended, and she discovered herself covered in waste. She had sunk right into the toilet bowl and had had her hand down the front of her pants, smeared with shit. She was paralysed with horror, as a past memory was triggered.

She had been sixteen when she discovered pornography, in the mid-seventies. Maria had never been allowed to watch anything above PG rating, or without an underlying Christian message. So practically, TV was not a form of leisure in which she was acquainted with as a child. She had been deprived of a lot of things when she was growing up, but she never argued. Because she knew it was God’s will for her to be pure. Maria’s parents did always used to say “You’re gonna be a saint someday Maria”, and she never let go of their word.

How could she fail them? With all that faith they had in her? Neglecting their hopes would destroy them. It was an evening after school, when she had walked around the corner to the convenience store to buy a Popsicle. Next to the store and was a narrow alleyway that cradled a staircase with flashing pink lady-leg lights on the sides, and grimy walls that had either been pissed or vomited upon. It led to an adult video store.

She had been informed by her parents that they were abominable, satanic material. But what was strange to her was that many of the kids at school talked about these videos, which sounded harmless, and even a little bit exciting. She didn’t know what to think. And couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly be so bad about these videos. She was close to entering the store, when desire pulled her aside and requested that she ‘take a peak’ at the shop downstairs. After all, nobody said looking was a sin. Had they? She crept hesitantly down the alleyway, feeling disturbingly out of place, but as much as the angel on her right shoulder urged her to back away and buy her kiddie, little popsicle, the devil to her left charmingly encouraged her to give the underground abode of arousal a whirl.

She took light steps, as she traveled down the staircase, and didn’t even dare touch the walls. She could start to smell the stench of adulthood as she tip-toed down; of a piss and cum. She entered the store, to be bombarded by brightly coloured video tapes, and a moderately fat store clerk, watching porn at the cash register. He had a thick mop of brown hair, and greasy singlet top on.

Without stopping to have a converse with the ‘flattering’ man, Maria ventured the aisles to browse at the unique films. Both appalled and juicily curious, she observed the multiple aisles in the sin-ridden store. There was a whole aisle dedicated to straight porn, homosexual porn, lesbian porn, even transvestite porn and orgies. She wasn’t familiar with what orgies were, but she assumed it was against the word of the lord. She proceeded into the straight porn aisle, and stared gobsmacked at the content displayed on many of the video covers. Although she couldn’t admit it, she felt exhilarated somehow by being there, and morbidly hungry for a preview at least of one of the videos.

The hormones tumbled inside of her, measuring amplitude of 100 and above. She raged with arousal, but was simultaneously drowning in fear and guilt. There was one video; Night of The Living Horny, she picked it up and thoroughly investigated the cover, that had naked people with their clothes half torn off walking towards the camera seductively. And so she was seduced. Seduced by the twisted sexual content that would hopelessly pleasure her incalculably.

She purchased it for 5 pennies, and ventured home, without her Popsicle, with the video hidden beneath her shirt.

“Maria! Get up!” Joe gripped her like a restless lizard on a mission to escape from its zookeeper. He wrapped his arms around her arms, and steered her towards the bedroom, shouting in a panic at the kids “Get out of the way! Go get ready for school!” He repeated his demand enough times to frighten them into doing as he said.

They all obeyed, worried, shackled with uprising anxiety for their mother’s wellbeing. The only one who remained standing in the middle of the hallway was Paul, who gaped in sickly awe at his mother’s unstable psychological state, he trembled tearfully “is this because of me Mom?” he questioned seriously, he drew her attention, and she began studying him fretfully, muttering to herself “what do you mean?” a dozen times, each time growing more restless and rising in volume. Paul began to cry. Joe comforted Maria reassuringly with soft “ it’s ok”(s) and strokes against her hair. “Paul, just fuck off, your Mother needs time to calm down. Get ready for school.” Paul didn’t listen, and so Joe belched “FUCK. OFF PAUL! FUCK OFF!” Paul fell backwards, hit hard by the blood red anger that saturated his father’s cheeks.