Evelyn Blowing Snow
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Driving In Snow Ch. 16 free porn video
Chapters 1-7 are somewhat self contained and describe Matt being rescued from a Midwest snowstorm by a family that turn out to be his soul mates, girls with lots of past life ties. Lots of spirituality and lots of sex. This was mostly written in 2005 and was posted in 2010.
Chapters 8-13 describe Matt going home to the Northeast, discussing things with his wife, Ann, Barbara and Connie starting college. Matt and Ann setting up a business. Again lots of spirituality and lots of sex. Written and posted in 2013.
Chapters 14-17 are sort of a side story. They describe meeting two of Barbara’s friends and what unfolds from there. I considered posting it as a separate work under the title: ‘Tall and Short.’ Written in 2013-2014 but the characters Becca and Zena were developed in 2007.
Chapter 16.
Dinner.
We all pitched in preparing dinner. Part of the time Barbara was wearing an apron for protection as she worked at the stove. She sure looked sexy in it. It was all I could do to keep my hands off of her. The lust I felt for Zena and Becca was spreading.
Zena asked me: ‘How do think you might hurt me?’
I said: ‘For example: You are wrestling with a shell. The last thing I want to do is hurt you in a way that drives you deeper into it.’
Ann said: ‘Matt – That is being loving, not lusting.’
I replied: ‘Yeah, but that is will power talking. Part of me doesn’t care, part of me doesn’t care if she gets hurt or even if she gets pregnant, part of me just wants to screw her. I am feeling splintered and I don’t like it. If Barb is right and this is a karmic dance I would like to come to it from a centered place.’
I asked: ‘Barb, Do you have any indication as to what the event was?’
Barbara answered: ‘No. Other than it is strong. … Very strong. … Nasty. … Cruel. … Violent.’
I asked: ‘Any indication of who was perp and who was victim?
Barb replied: ‘No. Besides you should know better than to ask that. There are never perps and victims. There are only actors in the play.’
I replied: ‘You’re right of course but what was going on within the play?’
Barbara answered: ‘We will have to let that unfold.’
Ann said: ‘Matt, do you suppose?’
I replied: ‘What.’
She said: ‘Your nightmare.’
I responded: ‘Oh, I hope not.’
Barbara asked: ‘What was the nightmare?’
I replied: ‘A girl being tortured to death in the inquisition.’
Zena said: ‘The inquisition? I had to do a long paper in high school on the inquisition. Our teacher really liked my paper and it ended up that the class used it as the basis of a long discussion.’
I asked her: ‘What did you conclude?’
She replied: ‘Oh my. I don’t know where to start but one thing we did talk about was: ‘Is killing and torture justified if it is for a ‘good purpose?’ ‘ ‘
I asked: ‘What did the class conclude?’
She answered: ‘It was divided about half and half. Several thought it was important to save souls. Most thought that that was silly. Still others applied the argument in the present day debating the use of torture to stop terrorism. We were all over the place.’
I asked: ‘Where were you?’
She replied: ‘I was of the opinion that torture was never justified but I found some of the arguments about using it to stop terrorists hard to refute.’
Becca entered the conversation: ‘My uncle served in World War two. His unit helped to free a concentration camp. He had some awful stories to tell about that. His unit also freed some prisoners in Gestapo prisons in France. He was the only man in his unit who could speak French so he had to talk to all of the survivors. The stories he told caused me to have nightmares for years. Especially about what the Germans did to the women. The Germans were using torture to stop those they saw as what we today would call terrorists.’
Zena said: ‘I never thought of that. It would have brought still another aspect to the debate.’
I asked: ‘How about a broader question: What are you willing to do to save a soul?’
Zena replied: ‘I’m not sure that a soul can be lost. If it can it would seem to me that acting lovingly would be the way to save it. I don’t see that a forced statement of belief changes anything but being loving can change a persons mind and ultimately heart.’
I smiled. I liked her answer.
I then asked: ‘What do you think were the real motivations of the inquisitors?’
Zena replied: ‘From my research it seems that much of it was economic. The powers that be wanted to steal the property of the victims. I am sure that some of those who were involved really believed in what they were doing but I suspect that they were a small minority. The viciousness of much of this makes me wonder about the role of sadism and in particular sexual sadism in all of this.’
I commented: ‘I wonder how often sexual sadism is based in feelings of inadequacy on the part of the sadist: ‘If I can’t make her scream in ecstacy I will make her scream in pain.’ It would seem to be more about control than anything else. It may also be revenge for perceived or imagined rejection. ‘
Becca said: ‘In most of my dreams I was the victim and then I felt powerless but in some I was the German. In those dreams I was feeling powerful.’ She shuddered.
We talked about these ideas for a while.
I said: ‘It is also possible that it in many cases it is a low level way of balancing a karma. The abused often becomes the abuser. Playing out both sides of a karma in reverse order.’
Ann said: ‘People who have been abused often have difficulty being loving. Sometimes all these people have is lust. At other times it makes people extra loving.’
We kicked those ideas around for a while.
Then we came back to the question of: ‘What are good ways to resolve the problem?’
We talked about forgiveness and acceptance.
Becca said: ‘A small infraction is often easy to forgive but what about really big ones like being a concentration camp guard or something like that? How do we forgive that? How do we accept that?’
I replied: ‘It comes down to exploring the spiritual purpose behind the thing. I have a friend who argues that the Holocaust was a step in the creation of Israel. He argues that we do not know what Israel is about and neither do the Israelis, that it is much more than just a country or just a homeland for the Jewish people. He claims that the thoughtform that became the Holocaust existed long before the event and was visible to the souls who were eventually caught up in it. They came in knowing it was coming. They were volunteers not victims. We need to salute their courage and thank them in the same way we thank military veterans.’
Continuing: ‘The karmic loads of the camp guards must be horrendous. Each and every act of sadism must be rebalanced. Some of these people will be busy for hundreds or thousands of lifetimes. I suspect by the end they find ways of balancing things very efficiently. In some ways they are also volunteers. I imagine the early lifetimes would be filled with great brutality aimed at them in what would seem to them to be random events but I wonder about their later lifetimes, where they have some level of spiritual insight. I wonder if they find extra powerful techniques to clear the karmic loads easily and quickly. I suspect that many will eventually lead lives of selfless compassion.’
Becca asked: ‘Was the Holocaust unique?’
I answered: ‘In some ways yes and in some ways no. The industrialization was unique but the cruelty was not. If my inquisition dream was at all valid, and we know the torture devices did exist so there is evidence that in some ways it was valid, then the cruelty for the sake of cruelty is nothing new.’
Zena asked: ‘What happened in your dream?’
I answered: ‘Ann and I wrote it down. Would you like me to read it?’
Zena,
Becca and Barbara all said yes.
I went to the living room computer. It took a minute to bring it up.
The dream itself:
I read: ‘It was well into the afternoon when I was brought to the priest, a mild looking little man with a soft voice. I was confident this would soon be resolved as the priest was someone I remembered from my childhood as being kindly.
‘He asked we to confess my heresies and read me a list of my supposed ones. I explained that I had committed none of those things. He repeated his request and I repeated my denial He also wanted to know who was working with me. He specifically wanted to know about a family friend who was a well to do merchant.
‘I said to him: ‘You know me. You know that I am not a heretic.’
‘He replied: ‘Don’t you see that that doesn’t matter. You should just confess, name your accomplices and be done with it.’
‘He asked a third time with a sharper edge to his questions. Again I explained that I had done none of those things. He then rang a small bell which was on the table in front of him.
‘Two burley men arrived and grabbed me by the arms and took me to the dungeon. This was a noisy place, full of both screams and whimpers.
‘One held me while the other removed my clothes. He was careful not to damage them and at first I thought that that was a hopeful sign, that I would get them back. That was until one man said: ‘Ye’ll not be needing these again.’ The other laughed and said: ‘They’ll look good on me wife.’ They attached chains to my wrists and pulled me toward the ceiling. The smaller one attached a chain to each ankle and then to loops in the floor. I was hanging by my arms with my legs wide apart and my feet barely touching the floor.
‘The larger one brought out a whip and began to flog me. Basically hitting my back and ass. He counted out forty strokes then poured salt water over my wounds. They lowered the chain slightly.
‘The priest had been standing in the background. He came forward and repeated his questions. I repeated my denials. He repeatedly asked me about who helped me with my supposed sins. He was pointedly asking about the merchant. I told him no one. He told the two men to continue in the morning.
‘They blindfolded me. The men then moved me to a different part of the dungeon. My feet were again chained wide apart. I was bent forward over something hard and cold. It felt like metal. My arms were stretched out in front of me and tied firmly in place. My head was hanging down. This position was agony but nothing else seemed to be happening. The screams were subsiding but not the whimpers.
‘Several times there seemed to be a group of men standing around me. They said things like: ‘Isn’t she the pretty one’ followed by: ‘She won’t be for long’ and: ‘Better use her tonight.’ I felt hands on me fondling my breasts and genitals. Stroking my body. Eventually I was left alone.
‘Then I was raped and raped again and again. I did not keep count but it was probably twenty times. Some of them used my anus. Being slammed against the bar at my hips was bruising them badly. The pain was excruciating or so I thought. I was soon to experience worse, much worse. I was basically dangling by the bar or whatever it was at my hips and my arms. Hours went by.
‘I started to hear sounds of activity and both the screaming and whimpering increased significantly. I felt someone touching my privates and then one breast. It was the priest who commented: ‘It is a shame to damage such a beautiful body.’ He again repeated his questions and I repeated my denials. He said he was sorry and implored me to confess. He again said that it did not matter if I was actually guilty.
‘My arms were released only to be chained over my head again. I was given water. The priest said a prayer for my soul.
‘They flogged me again. The priest again questioned me.
‘Then I was bent over again. I heard a discussion about using the pear. I had no idea what that was but I was soon to find out. The priest said to go ahead. Something was rammed into my vagina and then it expanded. Pain like I never imagined would be possible. These men were skilled in its use. Any more expansion and I am sure I would have been split apart. I screamed and screamed and finally just whimpered.
‘They collapsed it and removed it. The priest again questioned me. This time they put it up my ass. This was every bit as painful. The priest was sounding like he was gloating at my misery. Finally the pear was removed and I was again made to stand. The priest questioned me yet again. I was given water. Then I felt my breasts being impaled. Something sharp was being run through each one, withdrawn and reinserted. This was done over and over. Again the priest questioned me.
‘They let me dangle for a while. Then I felt a scorching pain in one breast. I was almost overcome by the smell of burning flesh. This was repeated over and over to both. My ass was also burned. The priest was supervising. He sounded jubilant as he said: ‘Burn her again’ or ‘Burn the Devil out of her’ over and over.
‘When they stopped I was delirious with pain. They let me hang there. Eventually the priest returned. Same questions. I was no longer capable of answering.
‘The sounds were quieting down. Apparently night was approaching.
‘I was lowered down only to be strung up again by my ankles. I was left for the night. I no longer had control of my bladder. My urine stung what was left of my breasts.
‘By morning I was totally incoherent. They lowered me down and removed my blindfold. I got to see the charred and mangled mess that used to be my breasts. They attached me to a flat stone slab and left me whimpering for the rest of the day. I was given water at intervals. The priest came by and attempted to question me but I was not in a state where that was possible. He said a prayer over me. He told my torturer to plan to burn me more and then use the wheel tomorrow. The night was uneventful.
‘I found myself thinking: ‘I am going to die here. My birthday is a week away. I will not see twenty one. Twenty is too young to die and this is no way to do so.’
‘The next morning I was again questioned and again refused to confess. They wheeled up a portable forge and one man used a bellows to heat the end of a metal rod until it was glowing bright red.
‘The priest said: ‘You won’t be tempting men any more my girl’ and applied it to my cheek, almost burning through to my teeth. He burned the other cheek. He acted like he was going to burn out my eyes but didn’t. It was reheated and he burned the insides of my thighs. It was reheated again and rammed up my vagina. It was again reheated and applied flat around my vagina. The smell of burning hair and flesh was nauseating. I couldn’t see but I imagined that there was not much left down there.
‘Then he tried to question me again. I was pretty much delirious but still managed to refuse to confess.
‘ They took my left arm and began methodically crushing the bones in my fingers. They slowly worked their way up to my upper arm. Part of the time the pain was unbelievable but mostly I was just numb. No pain sensations from anywhere. I was totally detached as I watched the wheel slowly crushing my arm.
‘They stopped several times so a priest could question me but I was incapable of giving any coherent response. The priest seemed to be enjoying himself.
‘They moved the wheel to my left leg. I died about the time they reached my knee. Just before I died I started laughing. This infuriated both the priest and the lead torturer.
‘The priest knew that I was innocent. I knew that he knew. He knew that I knew that he knew. The torturer didn’t care. He was just doing his job. He was annoyed however that he had not managed to break me. He considered that a failure. He did not like failing. He did not often fail.
‘When they realized that I had died the priest was even angrier. I had died to
o soon.’
‘I seemed to be watching from above the scene. I looked down and thought: ‘What pitiful creatures.’ ‘
As I read this I found myself reliving the event in all of its terror. Instantly I was angry and just as quickly it faded. I was re-experiencing everything but the actual pain. We do not remember physical pain. That is a good thing.
Discussion.
Becca and Zena looked at each other, then they looked down. It was almost like they knew, at least subconsciously.
Barbara said: ‘Wow.’
I thought: ‘That is the first time I’ve heard Barbara say wow.’
She later told me that she was responding to the changes in my aura. Apparently I put on quite a light show.
Zena asked: ‘Do you feel that this is a past life?’
I replied: ‘Now more than ever. There are some interesting aspects however: I am very proud of not betraying my friend.’
Zena asked: ‘How is it possible to forgive something like that?’
Barbara replied: ‘With enough wisdom anything is possible.’
We talked about wisdom.
Bedtime.
When it was time for bed I wanted to sleep with Ann. No sex tonight. I just wanted to be held. I wanted total love as only Ann can provide. Barbara can also be very nurturing but in a different way.
Barbara gave me a truly wonderful hug. She was healing my psyche just like she had healed my body. I had my eyes closed. I fully expected to find her glowing a soft white when I opened them. She wasn’t but the healing was very real.
I could not bring myself to hug either Zena or Becca. It did not seem like the right thing to do in either case. The lust was gone. No anger, just a slight distaste.
Waking the next morning I knew how my dying in the inquisition served me. After that I was never as willing to believe religious authority. I would find myself much more willing to go inside for answers. In several lives I really was a heretic but I was never caught by the church authorities. This death in many ways kick started my soul’s journey to awareness. I found myself thankful that it had happened. Here was the Taoist farmer story again. Again it was writ large. I found myself thinking that I can forgive Zena and Becca except that there is nothing to forgive. I was a volunteer not a victim. All that is left is love. I was in a truly centered place. I was free to love.
Ann was aware of the process happening within me. She hugged me extra tight. I was aware of all the love she was sending my way. I was aware that I was responding in kind.
[Zena found herself crying her self to sleep without really understanding why. She woke up in the middle of the night thinking, ‘I was the priest. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have allowed myself to be corrupted by those around me? How could I take pleasure in the pain of another, an innocent other. It seemed so easy at the time.’
She knew that she had no right to ask for forgiveness and yet she found herself devoutly praying that it would come. She resolved to do whatever was necessary to bring about Matt’s full recovery from this trauma. Matt and everyone else. Then she suddenly knew Matt was the last one. She accepted the debt, in full and unconditionally.]
[Becca tossed and turned. She knew but was not ready to admit it consciously. Finally she was lying there wide awake. She knew.
She tried to rationalize: ‘It was just a job.’ A little voice inside said: ‘Part of the Buddha’s eight fold way is right employment. Was this right employment?’ She shuddered, realizing the answer was a resounding: ‘NO.’
She found herself identifying with the Germans in her uncle’s stories. She was horrified that this was part of her nature.
She thought: ‘If I didn’t do it someone else would have. The little voice said: ‘But you did do it.’
She thought: ‘I was just following orders.’ The little voice said: ‘You willingly followed orders that you knew in your heart were not proper – You made the choices.’
She screamed: ‘No, no, no.’ The little voice said: ‘yes.- yes,yes,yes.’
She sobbed: ‘Yes.’
She knew that she had enjoyed the feeling of power. Now she felt powerless.
Valentina
- 22.01.2021
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