The Priest

If the other people in the church are a wellspring of repressed desire and need then the priest who presides over it all is a dormant volcano that needed only the slightest chance to explode.

Control was the word that the voice repeated as Aaralon looked at the priest. It was what he desired and something about him told Aaralon that he was getting it from the church, from the control he had over these people.

Yet there was something deeper and so much darker to it that told Aaralon that he could control this man. If he could find out what the root of that desire was and use it to bring him to his knees then the rest would fall into line.

Yet as Aaralon listened to the man rant and rave about god and sinners he realised that there was something else about this man. His desires, as strong as they are he could feel that something was blunting them. This man, this priest who was demanding those in his flock deny themselves the pleasures they desired whilst he seemed to be sating his own.

When the sermon came to an end Aaralon found himself asking the leaving flock some ideal questions about the town and the priest. He didn’t think he had any pulling information from people but he quickly found himself being told about the farmhouse the Priest lived in. It had been the home of the previous priest and he had taken it on after some fire a few years beforehand. As far as anyone knew he lived alone, a nice, god-fearing man who everyone was sure spent his free time in silent prayer to god.

The house sounded interesting but part of Aaralon wanted to stay around and see if he could talk to the priest himself and get a better measure of the man.