Hunchback of notre dame
anonymous
June 14 2012, 05:43:26 UTC
A very pious Frollo has to sub in for a sick clergyman at confession when a gorgeous Esmeralda out to have some fun comes in to confess her lusty sins.
rite of penance
anonymous
August 5 2012, 08:46:33 UTC
The door of the confessional closes with a soft click, and in the semi-darkness and the expectant quiet Esmeralda takes her place, kneeling on the wooden plank before the window. The shutter rises, and the priest’s silhouette becomes visible against the thin muslin membrane that separates them. He takes a breath, and raises his hand to his forehead. “We begin in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
She rustles her skirts, the movement just enough to create sound across the barrier - he will think she has signed along with him, though she would never. Still, that voice is instantly recognizable: the Justice of Paris, Judge Claude Frollo, so distinct in his precise tones and practiced contempt. Her smile is a cat’s smile. He is at her mercy now, though perhaps he believes otherwise.
He finishes his opening prayer, the quality of his silence shifting. Is he irritated? Bored? Does he maybe expect another merchant with weighted scales, a penitent who carries guilt over his inability to give more generously to
( ... )
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The door of the confessional closes with a soft click, and in the semi-darkness and the expectant quiet Esmeralda takes her place, kneeling on the wooden plank before the window. The shutter rises, and the priest’s silhouette becomes visible against the thin muslin membrane that separates them. He takes a breath, and raises his hand to his forehead. “We begin in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
She rustles her skirts, the movement just enough to create sound across the barrier - he will think she has signed along with him, though she would never. Still, that voice is instantly recognizable: the Justice of Paris, Judge Claude Frollo, so distinct in his precise tones and practiced contempt. Her smile is a cat’s smile. He is at her mercy now, though perhaps he believes otherwise.
He finishes his opening prayer, the quality of his silence shifting. Is he irritated? Bored? Does he maybe expect another merchant with weighted scales, a penitent who carries guilt over his inability to give more generously to ( ... )
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And then the comment about reptiles came through, and I almost cracked a rib laughing. Esmeralda, you wicked creature!
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