Desiree Fern- Part 1, a short story by zad28. Date added: 2012-07-19. Times viewed: 580.
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- Intro: Part 1 of a 3 part story. Set in the days of the Puritans, we meet a young woman who's rebellious against the strict, uptight, God-fearing ways of her society.
“Desiree Fern- Part 1.”
By,
Zachary Duresky
Puritanism. What an idiotic word. Dost thou think so? It’s so stupid. It means fearing God, restricting one’s life, and preventing oneself from any pleasurable experiences. My home, some village in Virginia, is crawling with Puritanism. Everyone fears God, restricts their lives, and prevents themselves from any pleasurable experiences. I may live amongst puritans, but a puritan, I am not!
My name is Desiree. Desiree Fern. I love that name. So beautiful and elegant, to match myself. I don’t show modesty for my beauty. With my long, waving brown hair, my seductive eyes of the same color, my lips of pale red, my bosom of a large and pouting size, and my overall curved and sensual figure, I am proud to say that I am beautiful.
I do not agree with the restricted, paranoid, and boring ways of my village. I do whatever I want, regardless of what the villagers that surround me think. Them saying I will burn in Hell, I am a disgrace to the Lord, I am a possible witch. But society is foolish and stupid (in addition to being boring). I love to have fun, and enjoy all of the pleasure that there are, and not worry about religion. Not make religion what I was born for. That’s not a life to me. To put more passion into what I feel, I wrote a song about it. I love to write songs. It’s one of my many pleasures that I allow myself to enjoy unflinchingly.
Sin Fulfilled Life
I forget what the preacher says,
what the village is forced to believe,
it’s a hellish life for them all,
makes one feel like they want to leave.
Leave this town,
or leave this life,
leave and be dead,
pull out the knife.
What’s the point in living,
when living in fear?
Fear of the Lord,
always holding a tear.
That’s not the life for me,
I’d kill myself before I live it.
I’d never take it from my people,
and especially never give it.
I live my life to its full,
I skip the boring church,
don’t do any praying,
skipping those never hurts.
I enjoy the beauty of the woods,
eat as much delicious food as I can,
invent games to play all day,
and make love to a handsome man.
Sin fulfilled life,
that’s what I carry,
everyone says I’m evil,
well I’m no Virgin Mary.
Sin fulfilled life,
that’s what I carry,
everyone says I’m evil,
well I’m no Virgin Mary.
sin fulfilled life,
that’s what I carry,
everyone says I’m evil,
well I’m no Virgin Mary.
It’s now two days before my sixteenth birthday. It’s Sunday, so naturally everyone’s at church. Except for me of course. I prefer to spend my Sunday afternoon swimming in the James River. I like to dive into the deepest part of it, climb onto the rocks, swim with the rushing current, and se all of the fish. It is a tremendous pleasure. But dost thou know what is even more pleasurable? That would be making love. I usually lose track of the time as I swim on Sundays; but today, I had my eye on a very handsome boy who was attending church. His name was Arthur Monroe. He was a virgin, unlike the married men in the village, or the ones I’ve already made love to. Well, that was all going to change. I was in need of a strong, handsome man beside me; one I’ve not been with yet; one to bring me so much surging pleasure. So, I made sure I kept track of the time for when church was over, and left for the village when it was the right time to. Time estimation, it’s an important skill.
I made it back, and watched all of the people exit the church in their usual ways. The men looking straight on with cold, stern faces, the women with their heads bowed and their hands clapped together, looking so miserable. All wearing their usual attire. The men, with their scary black hats and bland clothing. The women, with their pure white aprons, tight hoods hiding their hair, and heavily covered in clothing that that hides nearly everything but their face. I had my usual attire on as well. A short, revealing dress made of purplish red silk. I made it myself since no designer here would dare make a dress like mine. My legs, my mid-drift, and my cleavage all easily noticeable; it’s kind of a way to tease the men around here. To make them want to see more. And of course, I have nothing to hide my lovely hair. It flows freely, just like me.
There was Arthur Monroe, exiting the church along with everyone else, looking just as cold as the other men. Just like me, he wasn’t married yet, so I saw nothing wrong with making love to him. I would not be committing adultery, so no Commandments would be broken. I make sure of that with every man I sleep with. I strolled up to him within the crowd, everyone looking at me with disgust and disapproval, as usual.
“Hello Arthur,” I said casually.
“Hello Desiree.” I continued walking with him, as if I was just going in the same direction as he. But I continued to turn my eyes to him with a subtle smirk.
“Dost thou want something Desiree?” he asked.
“I was wondering if thee would like to come to my house for an hour or two. My father’s helping the preacher educate his apprentice.” What I was saying was true. My father, Jonathan Fern, really was helping the preacher educate the preacher’s apprentice, a young man named Edward Hawthorne. That made this the perfect time to bring a man over. Father’s suspicions would not be aroused. But I was about to arouse something else.
It took me some persuasion, but I managed to bring Arthur to my house. He thought I just wanted casual company. Naivety, so charming.
“So,” he began as we walked in, “dost thou want to pray for forgiveness?”
“Forgiveness? For what?”
“For skipping church, again. And for thee’s numerous other sins. I could pray with thee, a group prayer is always nice.”
“Maybe. But first, wouldst thou like to hear my new song?”
“Um, alright.”
“Just sit down on the chair over there and get comfortable.”
“Alright.” After he sat down, I walked up to him, and sat on my knees, looking at him with lustful hunger in my eyes. Beads of sweat emerged from his forehead. He began to suspect what was truly happening.
Hold on to Me
Thou was looking so miserable,
that thee was,
Out of that church thee walked.
So long thee hath been repressing,
Repressing thou urges,
a lifelong battle thee fought.
Well, thee can end the war,
end it here right now,
set thou withdrawn emotions free.
Because I’m here for thee,
thee and only thee,
let loose thou feelings on me.
I want thee to hold me close,
Hold me tighter and tighter,
I want my excitement to scream.
Only thee can do that,
I know thee can,
make being awake feel like a dream.
So much repression,
thou hath been holding on,
but I want thee to hold on to me.
So much repression,
thou hath been holding on,
but I want thee to hold on to me.
So much repression,
thou hath been holding on,
but I want thee to hold on to me.
Once I sung the last lyric, I leapt on to him. We both thudded onto the floor, but I didn’t care, I was so lust driven by the time my song was over. I had him down on the floor with my arms around him, and I began to smear my lips all over him. I kissed him mercilessly and held on with all of my might, making sure he could not get away. He struggled at first, but very quickly he stopped, and succumbed to my advances. And we made it.
An hour later, we finally finished (even though I could’ve gone on for much longer). I was sure that Arthur had enough for his first time, so I had us end it. I finally stopped kissing him and had my inescapable arms let go. I started to get up, but he was still lying on the floor. He was worn out but obviously satisfied. I pulled out my special pocket sized mirror I made myself from out of the breast pocket in my dress. I looked in to it and began to fix my hair.
“Thou best be getting back to his home, Arthur,” I said, “Not much else to do.”
“Y…Y…Yes, my heavenly, b…b….being,” he rasped from his panting mouth.
“Such kind words,” I responded with a chuckle. Arthur stood up on his feet, put his pants back on, then exited out of the back door.
After Arthur left, I picked the chair back up and spent the next few moments sitting in it and fixing my hair some more. Then, father stormed in unexpectedly. He slammed the door and glared at me with rage.
“Why art thou home so early father?” I asked innocently, “Thou was not supposed to be back for another hour.”
“Young Edward shows much promise; he dost not need much teaching. So, we ended early. And when I got here, I saw a young man step out of the back door. Didst thou lay her filthy sin upon him, as thou dost to every man she comes across?”
“Of course I did.”
“That’s just it? Thou hath committed yet another unholy deed, and thou feels no shame nor pleads forgiveness?” he shouted with so much anger.
“Correct father,” I said in my usual calm tone. Then I stuck my mirror back in my bosom pocket.
“Thou rat-eating tramp!” my father shouted, “this be the final straw! Thou will learn how to be Christian, or die at my hands!”
“Father,” I said firmly, ‘Thou art just as head-beaten as all others here. God did not create us so we could fear him.” At that, he struck me across the left cheek with the back of his left hand. I was sent thundering to the floor with a heavy thud. The floor hurt, but my cheek stung like it was touched by a blacksmith tool with a burning tip. Then I tried to get back up, but father stomped his foot on my back, holding it there, pressing me to the floor.
“TRAMP!” he screamed like a preacher during a sermon, “WE WERER CREATED TO FEAR THE FATHER! THE HOLY FATHER, AND THE FATHER OF THE HOUSE! I M THEE’S FATHER OF THE HOUSE! THEE WILL LEARN TO FEAR GOD, AND ME!” His foot pressed harder, heavily squeezing the air out of me. “THOU WILLST GO TO HELL, BURN WITH UNENDING FLAMES, SATAN TORMENTING THEE FOR ALL ETERNEITY, UNLES THE SUCCUMBS TO HER TWO FATHERS!” I glared up a father defiantly. I knew I had done nothing to deserve Satan’s fire. Arthur Monroe may have succumb to me, but I was stronger. I was not to succumb to father’s words, no matter how loud he was, or how much I could not breathe.
“No father,” I rasped, “Thou words are lies. Lies from Hell!” Then, father used his other foot to give me a hard kick in my left side. I squealed in pain. Then father finally took his foot off of me, and I rolled on to my right side, clutching my left side in pain with tears rolling down my cheeks. Father gazed down at me, with no sympathy in his hateful eyes.
“Thou hath better start praying for thee’s only soul, because I won’t do it for thee.” He then went and sat at the dinner table. I struggled back to my feet and went to cook our dinner.
The next day, father sent me out to by some food at the market. When I got there, I encountered my best friend, Emily Carter.
“Hello Emily,” I said with excitement.
“Hello Desiree. Is thee shopping as well?”
“Yes, for my father and myself.”
“If thou had a husband, thee could shop for him, just as I do for mine. Shop for him instead of thou father.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? No man wants to marry me.”
“It’s because of thou blastfemy-filled behavior. Every man is afraid to marry thee. My husband is not even happy that I am friends with thee.”
“I still see nothing wrong with my behavior.”
“But the Holy Father dost not want thou to be that way. Hell is waiting for thee Desiree.” All I could do was laugh at that. “Please Desiree,” Emily went on anxiously, “listen to me. I’m thou best friend. I don’t want thou to suffer for all eternity.”
“I will not suffer Emily, please do not worry about that,” I said as I held on to her hands.
“Well, whilst thou at least turn her life around?” Emily asked, “Everyone in this town hates thee because of thou hethenistic acts. The way thee dresses, the sermons thee skips, the lack of Bible reading, and the seduction of pure men.”
“Oh, like Arthur Monroe?”
“What? Another one? Now there art too many to count. Desiree, thou must stop this.”
“All of the men I seduce are not married; therefore I’m doing no harm.”
“Yes thou art. Thou art sending them to damnation.”
“Damnation, damnation, damnation!” I chanted in a mocking tone, “Is that all everyone thinks about?”
“Thou hast heard what the sermons say.”
“Well, the sermons are not God, and I refuse to believe that God hates us so much that he sends us to Hell for the smallest sin.”
“I’m just scarred for thou, Desiree.”
“And I’m worried about thou Emily. These teachings and the thinking of all around us hath taken the woman out of thee.”
“What?”
“Thou art afraid of her beauty.” As I said that, I pulled out my mirror and showed it to Emily. “Look at thou reflection. Thou art beautiful Emily.” She truly was. She had lovely blue eyes, thin yellow eyebrows, a small, precious nose, full pink lips, and velvety skin. I could not see her hair, since she had it covered, just like the other women. But I’ve seen it before, and it’s beautiful yellow hair. “Thou art a very beautiful woman, and thanks to these teachings, thou art afraid to flaunt it, and be proud of it. Thou tries to hide it, like all other women; afraid to show the world that she’s a woman.”
“I wish I weren’t beautiful,” she said as she turned away from the mirror in fear. “My beauty might entice a man someday, and if it does it’s my fault.”
“’Oh I give up,” I said with a chuckle, “Thou art hopeless,” I said as I gave her a playful hug. Emily actually managed to laugh and hug back. That made me feel so happy.
Emily and I did our shopping together. Once we started, I bought a branch filled with grapes to eat for myself as we shopped. They were red grapes, my favorite. They were delicious; not even slightly sour, and so sweet and juicy. And then my eyes caught something that really brought water to my mouth. It was Edward Hawthorne, the preacher’s apprentice. He was exceedingly handsome. He was five feet, ten inches tall; exceeding my height by six inches (a girl always finds a man taller than her very arousing). He had short brown hair, dark green eyes, and a broad chin and shoulders. He was so handsome. I had to give him my passion and fire.
“I will see thee again momentarily Emily,” I said, not taking my focused eyes off of Edward. “A new embrace is calling for me.” Emily turned her attention to where my eyes were looking.
“Edward Hawthorne? Oh no Desiree. Thou shalt not send the Devil on our new preacher to be.”
“I don’t know what thou said; all I can hear is his hunger calling me.” I started to approach him, leaving Emily behind.
“Desiree, please do not.” I ignored her and went onward. When I feel lust in my soul, it’s all I dedicate to.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hawthorne,” I said as I made it up to him, continuing to eat my grapes and carry the food I bought in a basket.
“Good day, Desiree Fern,” he said to me, trying to sound powerful and wise (just because the preacher and my father love him).
“Whilst thou like the last of my grapes?” I asked in ladies fashion.
“That is kind of thee, but no thanks. Is that all?”
“No, I have something important to ask, but it’s crowded here in the market. Can we talk in the woods?”
“Young lady, I know of what thou does to men. I do not trust thee alone with me.
“It’s very important, please.”
“Well alright. But thou must swear to our Lord, that thee will not…”
“Hurry!” I interrupted as I threw away my grape branch and used my now free hand to grab his and pull him along with me into the woods. I had to interrupt him; I never make promises that I won’t keep.
“All right Desiree,” Edward said with exhaust in his breath, “We’re in the woods. Now what is it that is so important?”
“I have a song that I want thee to hear.”
“That’s what thee dragged me into the woods for, a song?”
“I want the soon to be great preacher to approve of it?” I said as innocently as I could.
“What I do not approve of is thou deeds of damnation that all in this village knows about. Thy father told me about how he had o raise thee alone after thy mother died in childbirth. And thou sinfulness shows much ungratefulness.” He thought he sounded so old and wise, when in reality; he was only two years above my age. “Thou art lucky to still have one birth parent. My mother died in childbirth as well, and then my father killed himself. If it were not for the preacher taking me in and raising me as his very own child, I would not be here today. I show gratitude toward him every day, and I think thee ought to do the same for thy one and only birth parent.”
“I am grateful to my father. Despite his daily abusive acts, I feel deep love for him. That’s why I go through the trouble to buy our food and do the cooking for him.”
“That is not very much gratitude, I’m sorry to say.”
“Well, maybe I can learn to be better. I want to start with pleasing thee better since thee is our preacher to be.”
“Start with me?”
“Yes, I’m so used to my sinful and devilish acts that I need to slowly work at changing. Maybe thee can help with my fist steps.”
“That sounds divine. Maybe God hath finally come into thy life. How can I help.”
“Well, maybe thee could start by approving of my song. It’s a Lord praising song that I wrote myself.”
“A wonderful way to start. Let me hear it.” I never promised that it was a Lord praising song.
My Lust Has No Control
Alone with thee is what I want,
and what thee wants with me, I know,
thee knows I’m irresistible,
and thee doesn’t want me to go.
Never been together before,
we’ve always been away,
but now we’re alone and free,
let’s make our time worth to stay.
Thou hath been so repressed,
raised from within the gloom,
but I have come to free thee,
take the out of that room.
My lust has no control,
I want to give it all,
to thee.
Make thee a real man,
the best one there could,
ever be.
My lust has no control,
I want to give it all,
to thee.
Make thee a real man,
the best one there could,
ever be.
All thou has to do is kiss,
kiss me until I’m lifted,
and I shall kiss thee right back,
for kissing, I’m so gifted.
I want thee to spread thy arms,
then grab on and hold me,
and as we go at it,
maybe thou could scold me.
My lust has no control,
I want to give it all,
to thee.
Make thee a real man,
the best one there could,
ever be.
My lust has no control,
I want to give it all,
to thee.
Make thee a real man,
the best one there could,
ever be.
“That’s no Lord praising song!” Edward said enraged, “That be a Devil’s song!”
“It is not. The Devil cannot make my beauty,” I said as I put my left hand on my left hip in a provocative way.
“How dare thee defy me?” then walked up closer to him, we were nearly face to face.
“Like this,” I said as I waved my right hand in front of his face while wiggling my fingers. He looked at my hand with deep confusion. Perfect, he was distracted. “And like this,” I said as it grabbed his groin with my left hand. There was a look of sudden surprise on his delicious face. I could feel movement down there, I knew he liked it. “I take it thou hath never felt like that before,” I said teasingly.
“I... I feel nothing.”
“Liar. But just in case…” then I grubbed the stubborn denial wielder, and pressed my lips hard against his. Now there was intense movement down there. I then pulled him down to the ground with me. He struggled at first like Arthur did (most men do), then he just lay still on the ground and allowed my lips to smother every part of his face. I had him now. Then I worked both hands this time to his groin, and tried to pull off his pants. Suddenly, he started struggling again.
“NO, NO!” he yelped. But I continued trying to get his pants off, while my savory lips kept doing their job. “STOP IT!” he shouted, the he suddenly pushed me off aggressively. I ended up rolling on to my back, feeling all of the leaves, sticks and dirt. I turned my head to the right and saw him getting back to his feet and pulling his pants all of the way up.
“Dost thou really think we can just stop now?” I said as I crawled back up, “I was merely getting started.” I could feel myself burning inside, and he was burning all over, I was not about to let him leave now.
“Leave me be tramp!” he said filled with anger, “What thou hath done was un-Godly!”
“But thou liked it, thou cannot hide that from me,” I said as I walked up to him again. He turned his back to walk away. “Come back here my love,” I said as I wrapped my arms around his powerful chest, and began to kiss the left side of his neck. He quickly broke free of my grasp and my lips with a loud grunt, and swiftly spun around to swing his left fist at my left cheek, thundering me to the ground. My face was in the dirt, and the pain was excruciating. Not even father hit me that hard. I pulled my face out the dirt, I had tears in my eyes, but I was too angry to start crying. I looked up at this blazingly damned, unbearable beast with my teary eyes scotching like Hellfire.
“Thou hath made me do that,” the arrogant lair said to me in a fake calm voice.
“That I did not! Thee has self control!” I shouted though gritted teeth.
“Thou hath done wrong, but I forgive thee, as a true Christian does.”
“Forgive me? I’ve done nothing wrong! Thou hath lost his self control and showed wrath, one of the seven the deadly sins! Thee is not so perfect, thou hath committed a sin!”
“SHUT UP WHORE! I’m going back to the church, the preachers expecting me. Just stay away from me from now on.”
“With pleasure, thou woman hitting BASTARD!” I shouted with as much rage that I could muster. His teeth gritted very tightly as he looked me, they looked as if they were about to break. His fist rose again. But then he shut his eyes, clearly trying to calm down then he lowered his arm and walked away. That bastard showed no Christianity today. He hurt my cheek agonizingly. He had no deserving of my lust. So, I decided to put him out of my thoughts, and went to pick up my food basket that I left under a nearby tree, and then I went home.
“WHER HATH THOU BEEN?” demanded father when he saw how filthy I was and the red mark on my cheek.
“With a man of course, but I still got the food,” I said holding up the market basket.
“PUT IT ON THE TABLE AND EXPLAIN THY SELF!” I did as he said and put the basket on the table. “Who was it this time?”
“Edward Hawthorne. But nothing happened.”
“HAWTHORNE? THEE DARES TO WASH AWAY THAT YOUNG MANS PURITY? OUR SOON TO BE PREACHER?”
“Nothing happened said I. he shook out of my embrace, then he gave me this here mark.”
“Thou deserves it. He did right. But he must forgive thee.”
“FORGIVE ME?” THOU ART JUST AS STUPID AS THAT HORRIBLE BASTARD!”
“WHAT?”
“AS STUPID AS ALL OF THE OTHER MINDLESS SWINE THAT MAKE UP OUR VILLAGE!”
“THEE DARES TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT?” he said coming up to me in a threatening manner.
“Thou hath never frightened me before father. And thou dose not today.” I meant what I said, father has never scarred me. And after what Hawthorne did to me, I was in no mood for father to beat me today (or ever again). I channeled my anger against Hawthorne to father.
“THOU SIN-LOVING SLUT!” he thundered as he raised his arm to hit me as usual. And as it came down I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Father looked surprised, I’ve never done this before.
“Thou shalt hit me no more father. I am a woman, and will be even more of one tomorrow on my sixteenth birthday. Things shall be different around her from now on.” Father’s confusion turned to anger, and he raised his other arm to grab my neck. But I stopped that one two.
“BITCH!” he shouted.
“Oh, watch the cursing father, our good Lord does not like that.” He pulled back both of his hands angrily, his eyes now burning with fiery intensity.
“I WILL KILL THEE!” he shouted.
“Dost thou truly want to do such a thing?” I said, having more fun mocking him. “Break one the Ten Commandments; meet Satan in the afterlife; defy all that thou preaches? Well go ahead. Put me out of my misery, show the sin thee is capable of. Like thou always does.” I said with challenge in my voice and my eyes. I stood there waiting for him to do something. He had his hands up, looking as if they were strangling something invisible. And just as I predicted, he did not advance. He just gritted his teeth tightly, his forehead sprouting a vain, and red flushing his face. And then he put his hands down with frustrated grump, and looked down at the floor. “That’s better father,” I said as I walked up and kissed him on the left cheek. “Now I will make our dinner.”
I was so proud of myself. I finally stood up to father. Showed him that I ran my own life. Showed that no one, not the preacher, not Edward Hawthorne, and especially he, has any control over me. I could tell that my life was inevitably, going to change.
TO BE CONTINUED
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