by John Benson
Outside, the waves crashed against the rocks. Inside, Molly swept with a broom missing half its bristles. But her protector was a stubborn man and stingy, and wouldn't buy another. She knew better than to ask and get his dander up. She was safest when the household ran so smoothly that he nearly forgot that she was there. Oh oh. There he was now.
The old man knelt in the corner and then rose. The look on his face wasn't very nice. "Dirt," he said.
"Is not," Molly knew better than to argue, but pride in her work got in the way of her self-interest. "The floor is clean enough to eat off, sir. You know that. You're just looking for excuses so you can punish me."
"And now you're talking back," he said. "Slovenly workmanship and now back-talk. You're going to get it good."
"You'll rape me if you punish me, sir. You know you will. This is all just an excuse." She took a step backward and bumped into the bed. Of course he waited to confront her until she was cleaning his bedroom. How damn convenient.
"Not my fault," her protector said. "I'm a man, not a saint. Ain't a man alive wouldn't do the same when you get so slutty and squirmy and needy like you do."
"Just don't spank me," Molly said. "Then it won't happen and you won't be tempted."
"It's my job to keep good order and discipline in the household," he said. "So when you're naughty, you must be spanked. What happens after that is your fault, not mine. Now take your dress off."
"You don't need my dress off to spank me."
"Maybe not. But I like to pinch your titties and hear you squeal. Now get it off."
Molly took off her dress. "So help me one of these days I'm going to tell," she said.
"Be my guest," her protector said. "Because you'll only be telling on yourself. Any girl who gets juicy when she's punished is a natural slut. They'll sentence you to a penal brothel and you'll be covered by hundreds of men, 'stead of just me."
Molly shivered in the cold. The sea crashed against the rocks. Molly's breasts began to stiffen, and not just from the cold. She hated the guilty pleasure that was to come, but her traitorous body did not. She knelt and bent over the bed. Heard the snick as her protector drew off his thick wide leather belt. She tried to stay out of it. Think of something else. But pain brought lust as it always did, and when she was in full heat, he turned her over and did what men do. Then he climbed off the bed and dressed.
"Clean yourself up you're a mess," he said. "And make the bed." He walked out and left her lying there. The front door slammed. He had gone to the tavern. Molly lay there covered in sweat and drenched with hatred and self-loathing. The waves splashed up against the rocks.
Naked and green the Goddess rose. Seaweed was Her hair. On Her limbs green flesh changed to silvery scales. A voice in the waves said, "Molly."
"Lurileth," Molly whispered. "Get me out of here. Get me out of here and I will be Yours forever."
"Silly girl," the waves murmured. "You are already Mine forever."
"Please I beg You. Get me away from my awful protector and I'll do whatever You want."
"Go to the Priests," the Goddess said. "Tell all." The vision vanished.
Molly got off the bed and put her dress on. She was half in a daze. A vision of the Goddess. She had had a vision of the Lady of the Waves. Or not. It could just have been hysteria. The hopeful projection of a desperate mind. There was really no way to tell. One had to take such things on faith.
All right. What if she took the Lady's advice. What's the worst that could happen? She could go confess to the priests and be turned into a Temple whore. Probably no worse than confessing to the magistrates and being sent to a penal brothel. And maybe the priests would believe in her vision and help her. She hated her protector. She could no longer live like this. If she stayed here one of two things would happen. Either he would make her pregnant and she'd be sent off to live with the whores for the crime of an out-of-wedlock child, or she would kill her protector.
Change was better. Change was hope. Molly went out. In a supreme act of symbolic defiance, she didn't make the bed.
The City of Seaside basked in the morning sun. Gulls quarreled over fish guts. Molly put her back to the ocean and began to walk uphill. Up to the place where the rich people lived. Up to where stones paved the streets and stone walls held up terraces. Up to where three marble buildings on the sides of a great square lorded it over their smaller brethren. The white marble of the Temple, the pink marble of the Palace, and the black marble of the Court.
It was white for Molly. The Palace was as attainable as the Moon, and the Court led only to slavery. In the Temple all were welcome, or so it was said. Molly wasn't so naive as to think all those welcomes would be quite equal. A priest met her in the courtyard. He didn't seem overly eager to see her.
"Your business," he said. The tone was perfunctory. Bored.
"I have had a vision of Lurileth," Molly said.
"Interpretation of visions, go down corridor three," the priest said.
"No wait. I don't think there's anything that needs interpretation. She told me to go and tell all to the priests."
"That will mean Confessions then," the priest said. "Corridor number one." His tone was a bit warmer now.
"Thank you," she said.
"Look until you find a door that is open," the priest said. "A closed door means a confession is already in progress."
The white marble made everything so bright that she had to squint, and when she reached the shade of the corridor it took a while to adjust to the more muted light. Finally she found an open room where two men sat at ease, talking with each other. One was quite skinny, the other quite fat.
"Come in and close the door," the skinny man said. "I am Brother Jerome, and this is Brother Marc, and we are ready to hear your confession. You have brought your gratuity, of course."
Molly shut the door and studied the two men. "What gratuity?" she said.
"The Temple cannot do good works for free, girl. If you expect something from the Goddess, you must give Her something in return."
"It's a slow day, Jerome," the fat one said. "Let's hear her out."
"Lurileth came to me," Molly said. "Told me to go talk to the priests. She didn't say I'd need money."
"Visions is corridor three," Jerome said. "You're in the wrong place."
"Wait," Marc said. "Describe the vision."
"She looks a lot like Her portraits," Molly said. "But Her nose is broader. And there was this smell."
"A fishy smell?"
"No. More briny. And with a definite hint of iodine."
There was a sudden intake of breath from Brother Jerome. "Sounds like a genuine vision," Brother Marc said. "Hasn't been one of those among the laity in a long time."
"She told me to tell all," Molly said. "So here I am. I live with my protector since my parents died. He's discovered that when he spanks me, I become aroused, and he... he takes advantage."
"Sounds like the Palace," Jerome said.
"Without a doubt," Marc said. "It is abundantly clear. The Goddess sent you to us so that we could introduce you to the Palace."
"Clean her up first," Jerome said. "Give her something nice to wear."
"Visions are usually so murky," Marc said. "This one is so obvious it makes me want to shout for joy."
"I don't get it," Molly said.
"You want to stop getting raped by your protector don't you?" Jerome said.
"Well yes. I want to get as far away from that bastard as I possibly can."
"No place is farther away from the docks than the Palace, at least figuratively speaking," Jerome said. "And because of what you are they will welcome you there."
"Because I'm a girl who has seen Lurileth?"
"No," Marc said. "Because you are a very pretty girl who is aroused by being spanked. Come along now. We have to get you bathed and fixed up nice."
"But..."
"Come on. We know what the Goddess wants. Don't dawdle now. Let's go."
Molly was accustomed to obedience, and so she obeyed. They led her to a pool and took her dress and threw her in. The Brothers were very impersonal about it, so she found herself annoyed without being particularly ashamed. "Mind telling me what's going on?" she said.
Marc hauled her out of the water and dried her with a towel. Jerome pulled a comb through her wet hair.
"Listen carefully," Jerome said. "And do not repeat what you hear. The official reason for your introduction into Palace society is that the Prince is looking for a girlfriend."
"I'm to be one of Prince Eric's prospects?" Molly said. The mind boggled.
"Technically," Marc said. He stopped drying her and handed her a dress. A very, very pretty dress, soft and flowing and colored deep blue with overstitching of silver thread. "In reality, the Prince is a homosexual and has a steady boyfriend. But he will be glad enough to cover for you. You are for the king."
"King Leo?" Molly said. "I don't get it."
"The king likes to spank pretty girls," Jerome said.
Molly's heart sank. The Goddess was cruel. Molly had been rescued from one old lecher only to be handed to another. "Oh," she said. "And the Temple will gain favor with the Palace by sending the king a little present?"
"We do the will of the Goddess," Jerome said. He stopped fussing with her hair and stepped back. "If the Goddess wills better relations between the Temple and the Palace then so be it."
"But what about me?" Molly said. She pulled the new dress over her head. It floated into place around her. It really was striking. Unless anyone noticed her work-worn hands, they wouldn't know she was lower class.
"The king is kind to his girls," Jerome said. "Except when he's actually spanking them that is. You'll be a pampered pet. Isn't that better than what you're accustomed to?"
Molly sighed. The dress really was pretty. "I promised the Lady I would do Her will if She rescued me from my protector," she admitted. "I am trapped in a web of obligation. My word is the only thing of value I possess. If I break it, I have nothing."
Marc handed her pretty shoes to go with the pretty dress. "We are all of us trapped by Fate," he said. "The closest thing to true freedom most of us will ever have is the freedom to choose one prison over another. The Goddess has blessed you, and in time you will appreciate it. You must be very psychic, you know. She can't appear to everyone, even if She wanted to."
A puzzle piece clicked into place. "Only to the Priests," she said. "I could have been a Priestess."
"If the Goddess hadn't chosen you to serve elsewhere, yes. Come along now. You will like the Palace. The food is exquisite. Just remember you must withhold moral judgment from those who dwell there. Those who rule are held to a different standard. More strict in public, more lax in private. Come on, come on."
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.