Message-ID: <53815asstr$1147057802@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Yotna El'toub" <yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} The Strange Case of the Missing Madonna [Yotna El'toub] Chapter one of ?
Lines: 400
Date: Sun, 07 May 2006 23:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

****************************************************************

{ASSM}  The Strange Case of the Missing Madonna ~ A Holmes & Hove
adventure Chapter one of several) [Yotna El'toub]
(MF,FF,MM(suggested),MC,NC,magic. Caution: blasphemous)

****************************************************************
WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit language
of an adult nature and should be read only by those of a legal
age to do so. If you are a minor or object to stories of an adult
nature, LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the author is
18+ please abide to your own local laws.

Please note and understand the content codes for this story. The
characters portrayed in this story are just that, characters in
my story. Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental
and unintentional. The characters and situations portrayed are
pure fantasy; the author is keen to state that in reality adult
sexuality should remain only in the adult world.

Please do not allow or cause this story to fall in to the hands
of minors.
________________________________________________________________

***AUTHOR'S NOTE*** Due to the subject matter this Holmes and
Hove adventure will contain not only sex, but blasphemous
content. I have no desire to upset people or their deeply held
belief's, so if this is likely to upset you; stop reading *NOW*.
If you continue to read despite my warning my conscience is
clear, as *YOU* have made a free choice.
________________________________________________________________

***Summary***

Ned and Brighton are asked to recover a stolen icon for the
church. The icon has remained hidden for centuries due to its
contentious content. Shadowy organisations are moving towards a
future that threatens the very fabric of society.
________________________________________________________________

Ned sat quietly waiting for daylight to creep into his darkened
receiving room. The sole source of light was the occasional,
rhythmical glow of Holmes's churchwarden. A soft footfall made
Holmes turn his head slightly to the right, he silently nodded at
the shadowy figure.

"I say old chap, up with the lark aren't we?"

"Before Hove. No dawn chorus. Anyway darkness suits my mood."

"More bad dreams? What ails you so?"

"Brighton, it is best left."

"Really? Is it? This drains you Holmes, makes you maudlin. These
dreams, and that damnable pipe!"

"The pipe is my solace, my retreat Brighton. Without it..."

"Without it... You would confide in me, your friend." Hove
replied quietly.

"Hove, you know. You were there."

"I was and the dead are now gone. Try as we might, we can not
change history."

"The dead are very much alive... In my dreams Hove, I see each
and every one of them. Every soldier I failed." Ned's voice
faltered.

"You failed no one! The strategy failed, the General failed, you
sir, did not!"

Holmes smiled and then shielded his eyes from the gas mantles
which Hove lit. Soon the room was bathed in a yellow light. Hove
spoke once more. "It is always darkest just before the dawn.
Something will come along to solve your melancholy mood."

"You are a good egg Brighton. I trust you are right. Now how
about some tea? Hmmm, that will wash away the dreams."

"Tea, capital. I will see if cook is awake." Hove started to walk
towards the door.

"I suppose a camp brew is out of the question then? There is some
fresh mint in the yard."

Hove laughed as the mention of mint tea swept away the years.
"Yes sir, Captain Holmes, one brew coming up." Hove stood to
attention and saluted.

"Dismissed," barked Holmes, in a mock order. His mood began to
dissipate behind his grin.


                  -------------------------


The day wore on. At half past seven precisely the mail arrived.
Hove dutifully picked it up. "One here marked for your immediate
and personal attention, dear chap."

Holmes stirred from his armchair for the first time that morning
and crossed to his desk. He retrieved the envelope, "Written by a
confident hand..." Ned slid the paperknife between the flap and
the unknown wax seal. Once open he unfolded the letter and read
it to himself with increasing interest.

'Dear Mr Holmes,

I write to ask your assistance in a most delicate matter. I am
the vicar of Saint Peter's Church in the town of Henley. Our
church is one of the oldest in the locale, being listed in the
Domesday Book and since those early days, we have been charged
with the care and protection of an ancient icon. To our eternal
shame, we have failed in this regard; Tuesday last, the vestry
was broken into and the icon seized. The fact that it was the
only thing taken causes me great concern. If this has been stolen
for the reason I suspect, then we are all in great moral danger.

I can not and will not attempt to describe the icon, save to say
that what it depicts is an outrage to all god-fearing men. If you
forgive my presumption I will visit you to discuss this in person
on Monday sixth of May. I will be arriving in Paddington at
Eleven-fifteen, and I will travel by cab to your premises at 2C
Chester Row in Belgravia. I hope for you forbearance with my
presumptive plans.


Yours sincerely.


William Carter Pearson.

Reverend of St. Peter's Church, Henley-upon-Thames.'

"Hove we should prepare for a visitor, a cleric wishes to engage
our services."

"A cleric? What can the church need from us?" asked a slack jawed
Brighton.

"For once I am unsure myself, but there are some minor clues in
the letter."

"The letter was addressed to you Holmes..."

Ned waved away the protest. Hove read the letter and then cocked
his head to the left, as was his habit upon being confused.

"What on earth can this icon depict?"

Holmes shrugged.


                  -------------------------


The long room echoed the shuffling steps in muted tones. Soon the
hushed group was fully assembled. They stood erectly with their
flowing robes stilled in the silent air. One stepped forward from
the ranks, confidently he made his way to the rear of a mock-
altar. Once there, he reached up and grasped an unseen cord. An
intake of hallowed breath sounded around the room as dark eyes
gazed upon their prize, drinking in the depravity depicted.

"Brothers, the 'Madonna's fall' is back with us. The true
depiction of Mary succumbing to our dark lord's caress. Few know
that Joseph sired one less of his 'mortal' children than he
thought. Jude was the child of our own dark lord, the founder of
our ancient tribe and the head of the 'illuminati'. Let us
celebrate our lord's possession of god's whore. Bring the girl!"

Two more brethren appeared through the door at the far end of the
chamber. Between them a woman garbed in a white tunic struggled
furiously. She stilled momentarily when her eyes fell on the icon
and then her panic increased. It was to no avail; resistant as
she was, she soon stood before the altar. It was then she noticed
the bulge distorting the front of the robe of the brother behind
the altar. Her scream rent apart the still air.

"No, no you can not! Please have mercy..."

Her voice was stilled as soon as the brother's hand anointed her
head, the foul water was dragged across her forehead in the shape
of an inverted cross. She stood still, feeling the urgent,
unwanted desire course through her. She was determined not to be
led into temptation. Then the chanting began.

"Our father, who art in hell,"

Clarice moaned as her nipples hardened into stiff peaks.

"Feared be thy name, thy kingdom come,"

Clarice felt the flow of want spill down her thighs.

"Give us this day our darkest need,"

Clarice felt her clitoris part her lower lips in insistent
erection.

"Support us in our trespasses, and smite those who trespass
against us,"

Clarice moved her hand toward the red hotness between her thighs.

"Lead us into temptation, and deliver us through evil,"

Clarice pumped her thighs thrusting her wet folds against her
enquiring fingers.

"For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory,"

Clarice ripped the top of her tunic with her free hand and
plundered her swinging breasts savagely.

"For ever and ever, worldsend."

Clarice threw herself onto the altar spreading her limbs and
pleasuring herself lewdly. A moment later the brother mounted
her, stabbing his hard gnarled pego deep within her. With
relentless unbridled passion the brother's glans pounded against
Clarice's virgin womb. Together the carnal couple acted out the
despicable act shown on the icon.

Around them the brothers fumbled under their distended robes,
gradually they walked towards the altar continually reciting
their obscene 'Lords prayer'. At the moment of passion each
brother ejaculated, depositing his seed on the writhing woman.

Eventually the brother astride Clarice dismounted. He turned to
his dishevelled brothers.

"The Whore of Nazareth is reborn!" He called; his brothers broke
into wild celebration.

Clarice sat up on the Altar and observed her servants with a
lascivious grin. She stood, ignoring the streams of semen that
streamed down her lithe body. In a voice dripping with forbidden
delights, she spoke.

"All it needs for evil to prosper is that good men do nothing. No
man, good or evil, can resist me. Our victory is assured!"

The unnatural orgy began in earnest.


                  -------------------------


The Reverend walked the few steps to the door of 2C, he paused to
read the brass plate beside the door.

'Holmes & Hove Private Investigators'.

He sighed, gathered his resolve and tapped on the door. The man
who answered the door was slightly shorter, and possibly younger
than the Reverend. He certainly had an air of military
confidence.

"Ah, the Reverend Pearson I presume?" He paused, waiting for the
confirmatory nod and then continued, "Pray join us, can we offer
you some refreshment after your journey?"

"A tea would be most welcome. Mr Holmes?"

"No, sorry allow me to introduce myself, I am Brighton Hove, his
partner." Hove extended a hand and passed his calling card to the
Reverend.

"I see. My business is with Mr Holmes, Mr Hove. I do not wish to
appear rude but..."

"I'm sorry to interrupt you but Mr Holmes has made me aware of
your circumstances."

"He has! How very unfortunate, I had hoped..."

"Our discretion is assured, Reverend Pearson."

Pearson nodded and walked towards the receiving room, two paces
behind the striding Hove. Once he entered the room he was greeted
by a slightly more mature and taller gentleman.

"Mr Holmes?" He asked.

"Indeed, Ned Holmes at your service, Reverend Pearson."

"I had imagined someone of greater maturity." The Reverend
stated.

"As had I, maybe it is a young man's world after all." Holmes
smiled.

William Pearson chuckled and a smile graced his face for the
first time in days. "Let us hope that we young men are up to the
task. An onerous task as it turns out."

"Tell me more. I was very intrigued by your letter." Holmes
indicated a chair to the Reverend and duly sat in his own. Hove
followed suit, sitting between Pearson and Ned on a less
resplendent chair with a pressed cane seat.

"I am happy to tell you more Mr Holmes, alone in confidence."

"Brighton and I are partners, what one hears - we both hear
Reverend Pearson." Holmes replied, with a kind smile.

"I understand, but this is a most unusual case. The fewer that
know of it the better."

"Then you have a choice, either tell us both, or neither of us.
Those are my terms of business."

"Very well, needs drive, needs drive."

The Reverend began his long and sorry tale. There were many side
discussions and exclamations of surprise. As the conversation
wound towards its close, Pearson produced an envelope.

"What the two of you are about to see, you must disclose to no
other man. Ever."

With shaking hands, William Pearson withdrew two pieces of paper
from the envelope. One was the size of a normal letter, the other
the size of a calling card. With an uncertain motion William
turned over the largest piece of paper.

"Good god! That is an outrage, an abomination." Hove gasped.

"Yes, you see the reason for our concern. This tears at the very
fabric of our faith."

Calmly Holmes interjected. "I would rather see what is on the
smaller piece of paper, if you would be so kind?"

With an air of repugnance William flipped over the card. Written
on the card was one sole phrase.

'Monks of Medmenham'

Holmes sighed. "As I suspected. We are indeed in deep water. I
accept the challenge of this case, in the full knowledge of the
risks."

"God bless you my son, this is to aid you on your way. My prayers
and heartfelt thanks are with you."

William rose. "I have matters to attend to back in my flock, good
day gentlemen!"

Hove escorted the Reverend to the door and from there to his cab.

Pearson gazed out on the busy streets with wonder and concern.
How could so many survive in this overcrowded place? What hope
was there for their immortal souls? He sincerely doubted there
was any. The city lacked the refinement and hope of his home
town. William sighed, maybe he should move - reside where god was
so clearly needed. Deep in thought, he made his way towards
Paddington station. He was interrupted by a beggar.

"Penny for the flowers - Sir?"

William reached in to his waistcoat pocket to retrieve some
change. As he dropped it into the girl's extended hand his eyes
met hers. As they did William's immortal soul fell into the dark
depths of Clarice's bottomless, soulless eyes.


                  -------------------------


To be continued...



________________________________________________________________


Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub May 2006
________________________________________________________________

I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my
only payment for my work.

Please address comments to yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com

This story is copyrighted by the author and as such may not be
published, posted or archived on any newsgroup, website, or
server, other than ASSM and ASSTR, without the EXPRESS PERMISSION
of the author. Any reader may archive a copy of this story,
provided the warnings and copyright information is attached in
full.

_________________________________________________________________
Are you using the latest version of MSN Messenger? Download MSN Messenger 
7.5 today! http://join.msn.com/messenger/overview

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+