Sister Constance felt her cheek pressing against the cold, damp grass. It was four in the morning and the cool air drifted over her naked buttocks, raising shivers all through her muscles.
She pulled her robes even higher above her waist, and felt the tongue digging more deeply into her cunt.
Her lips were spread wide, as wide as her milky white thighs.
She felt her stiffening clit grow more and more engorged with blood, felt herself becoming more and more aroused....
And then, she felt it beginning ... just as she'd dreamed it.
The massive Doberman moved up on her body, gripped her between his two strong legs and began to squeeze her tightly, and then, holding her breath, scarcely daring to move, she felt the animal's cock at her cunt, felt it pressing into her, felt her lips opening to receive it.
What would Father Delacy think, she wondered to herself.
She had no way of knowing, but she was getting ready to find out that very thing.
CHAPTER ONE
It was dusk. Sister Constance moved through the long dark corridors that ran adjacent to the chapel.
She came to a door and pushed the latch, getting ready to step out into the gardens. It was time for her evening meditation. She preferred to take it in the comfort and security of the gardens, with the fragrant blossoms and the beautiful foliage that lined the narrow paths.
The garden's had been the creation of dear Father DeLoney, with the help of Terrence MacLauglin, one of the wealthiest of the parishioners. They'd spent ten years acquiring the various plants from around the world. Many had scoffed at the time and the expense that had gone into it. Many had said that the poor would have fared better.
Sister Constance, however, disagreed. The poor were a constant, immutable, unchanging. She and her sisters and the priests were the variables. If there was to be any serious work done on the behalf of the poor, it would have to result from the Church, and if the Church's army was weak, or if it was ill-prepared, or if it was troubled and it it attempted to attend to its tasks with minds that were soiled with the clutter of worldly passions . .
It was clear to Sister Constance that there could be no army for the Church, without this garden. Never did she feel so close to the Lord and Saviour, the divine Son or the Blessed Virgin than when she came here, to walk the paths in silence, to speak directly with God.
She pushed the large wooden door open, and heard the hinges squeak. The sound echoed through the massive hallways of the chapel, bouncing off the walls of the great stone structure, hovering in the air like a swarm of Angels.
Suddenly, there was a different noise. An intruding noise.
"Who's there?" she asked. There was no response.
She keened her ear.
It had sounded like a shuffling ... as if footsteps....
But of course, there could be no danger. None whatsoever.
She was safe here. She was in the chapel. She was getting ready to walk with God.
* * *
Sister Beatrice felt flushed in the face.
She had just come from a conference with The Mother Superior, and once again she had been soundly reprimanded.
"Sister Beatrice, you do not have a proper attitude. You continue to disappoint me."
"I don't understand, Mother."
"You have not yet renounced the things of this world, have you."
She hung her head.
"I try, Mother, seriously I do. I make every effort, but it's hard. Truly it is hard."
"Of COURSE it is hard, dear child. There would be no point in assigning the special aspects of God's work on earth, unless there was some method by which we could set them apart, identify them as a special breed, able to withstand the difficulties that the world can fling at you, able to tolerate, and triumph over temptation. Difficult! It is the most difficult of all tasks, my dear. That is why we must remain strong, at all times, and vigilant, particularly towards ourselves, lest we succumb to the temptations of the Devil. You have only to recall our Lord's time of temptation, when Satan himself appeared at his side and offered him the earth in its entirety. But The Lord Jesus was strong, and he prevailed over the human side of his nature, allowing himself to gain exactly what was offered, and more."
"Yes, Mother," muttered Sister Beatrice, humbly. She was quite weary of the Mother's lectures ... and they seemed to be coming with ever greater frequency. Now, the slightest aberration from her own preconceived conception of what the life style of one of the sisters should be, and a heavy lecture descended, filled with references to eternal hell and the fire of the pit, and most significantly, the possibility that one might not quite be prepared for the life required by the order.
She fumed now as she contemplated the Mother's comments.
"Walk in the garden. Pray to God Almighty that he'll touch your heart, and that you might purge yourself of this dismal profusion of worldly desires. I find it most unappealing. I find it most discouraging."
There was always the thinly veiled threat that one could be expelled from the order, though instances of that were rare. But even that drastic step had at one time been taken, and within the span of Sister Beatrice's tenure at the order.
Ah ... Sister Marigold ... what would she be doing now?
She was now at the corner of the long corridor that led to the garden entrance.
She began to walk down the long hallway, lost in thought, when she thought she heard something ... something behind her....
She turned around.
Nothing. Nothing but shadows in the early evening.
She walked further on , and then she heard something again. She turned around.
"Who's there?" she asked in a shaky voice. "Who th-there?"
Nothing. Of course nothing. This was a convent. There could be no one here. No danger. Could there?
She was almost at the turn in the corridor, and as she walked towards the door she looked through the glass windows and saw Sister Constance strolling leisurely among the Azaleas and dogwoods. What a beautiful sight. One of the holy sisters, set against a backdrop of the blossoms of the cross.
Too bad she had no sense of religious imagery, or concern for the icons of the faith. For her, the church was a social force. It was a concept that had no meaning unless it was placed in some kind of social context. She felt at times that the Holy Mother and even the priests would have preferred the world to just go about its business and just leave them to themselves, to worship and pray, and to stroll in the garden among the azaleas and the dogwoods and the roses.
Well, that was fine, but the world was there, and it wasn't going to go away. Maybe the mother was right.
She pushed the latch on the door and started to open it. The hinges echoed loudly through the halls, the echoes hovering like a distant sound of waves or the wind in the forest.
* * *
Sister Constance felt totally at peace with herself. The warmth of the new spring was so welcome after a long, cruel winter. One or two of the parishioners hadn't made it through, Mr. Guiso and his wife actually freezing to death. She shivered. What a horrible way to go. It was terrible.
But there was no doubt in her mind that they had gone to their reward. That's beyond question, she told herself. They were two of the finest people who ever walked the earth, and that was a fact. No doubt about it.
She took in a deep breath and smelled the gentle perfume of the flowers
From behind her, the sound of the door latch clicking open and the squeaking hinges easily filled the silence in the garden.
She wondered who it was, and turned to greet whoever had come out of the chapel.
Strange, she thought.
The door was slowly swinging shut. There was no one there.
* * *
The hand clamped tightly around Sister Beatrice's mouth, tightly as a vise.
She immediately went completely numb, not having the faintest idea what she was doing, not having any idea what was happening, not having any guidelines as to what she should do. She'd never been attacked before.
The hands were strong hands too.
"I don't know," he said. "I don't know why you grabbed her in the first place."
"Shut up. I've got her now, and you're in on it. You hear."
"Look you fool, I never said anything about grabbing a sister. What's the matter with you?"
The one called Luis laughed. "I'm a lapsed Catholic, so what do I care?"
"Luis, come on man, let her go. She's a nun. A fucking nun. You can't be wanting to do something like this. It's bad. It's real bad."
"Shut up! I told you man, you're in on this as well as I am."
Sister Beatrice, recovering from her first burst of shock, found it rapidly being replaced by fear.
It was a dark, thick oozing kind of terror, boiling up from her guts, and within moments, it had engulfed her.
Her muscles were all going rigid, and her thoughts were jumbled and chaotic.
The two assailants seemed by their voices to be young, though in the shadows, she couldn't be certain.
She could also tell that they were most likely from the neighborhood. Their accents were Spanish. It figured. She'd long since become disillusioned and accepting at the same time over people who you tried to help and who rejected your every effort. It sometimes made her feel very discouraged. like right now, for instance.
"All right man," said one of the voices, "we got her, now what are we going to do with her?"
"She'll show us where the money is."
"Aw, bullshit, man, there ain't never no money here. What do you think, they just leave it lying around?"
"No, man, but there has to be something worth stealing."
"Yeah ... and I'm getting an idea, you want to know the truth."
"What's that?"
He reached his hand out and let his fingers tickle Sister Beatrice's chin. She started to struggle violently.
"Hey, cool it, man, this bitch is strong."
"What's the matter, can't you hold a woman?"
Sister Beatrice was thrashing about with her feet now, and there were strangled noises painfully wrenching themselves from her throat. "Look, you sonofabitch, you try holding your hand over her. She's strong, man."
"This is pretty funny. Big Juan can't even hold down a nun."
"SHHHHHHH!! Don't use my fucking name, you fool."
"Oh, sorry. Look, are you going to help me hold this bitch down or not?"
Sister Beatrice was shaking madly now.
She strained as hard as she could against
Juan's arms, but in spite of his protestations, managed to hold her down, and keep his hand over her mouth.
Luis pulled a knife from his pocket and walked over to the heavy purple draperies that were over the doorway to the chapel.
With one fast, sharp slash, he ran the edge of the blade all the way down the length of the heavy material.
He then moved the knife over about three inches and did it again.
In this fashion he sliced off four long lengths of heavy material, and then sprinted back out into the hallway.
"This'll hold her," he said.
"What are you going to do, tie her up?"
"Sure. Why not? It's better than trusting you to keep having the strength that's called for."
"Don't be saying shit like that, man. I don't want to hear it!"
"Hey, look, will you quit walking around with your head up your ass. Please. It's stupid, and you look real bad with shit all over your face."
"You bastard."
"Did you hear what I said."
"Yeah, I heard. What about it.'
"I ain't going to put up with this shit, mother-fucker."
"You want to fight about it?"
"Yeah, I'll fight you about it."
"You will, huh? That's pretty rich. What are you going to do? Let her go while you try to beat my ass? That should be pretty good. She'll have a lot of fun running for the cops while I'm forced to tear you into tiny pieces."
"You talk real big. You really talk big. You know that. Now why don't you just shut up, and help me tie her up?"
"Yeah, gladly, man. Let's get those cords around her hands."
They both got down on their knees, and with Juan still holding his hand tightly over Sister Beatrice's mouth, Luis started to wrap the heavy strips of material around her wrists, tightly binding them together.
He was just getting ready, when Juan said, "Hey man! Someone's coming!
* * *
Sister Constance watched the heavy door swing shut and heard the sharp click of the latch. How strange, she thought to herself. How very strange. Oh well, she thought, perhaps someone changed their mind.
She looked and for a second thought that she saw a hint of movement behind the dark windows. But she decided not to worry about it. She did so dislike having her meditational walk with the Lord interrupted. She turned back to the path, and once more found herself suspended in that timeless state of grace, when divine communion with the Lord in Heaven filled her heart and soul
Oh Father, grant me your divine grace, walk with me now, she thought, grant me your blessing, and give to me the strength that I need-But there was something wrong. She no longer felt that transcendent euphoria, no longer had a sense that the Lord was touching her. Her mind was too cluttered. There were thoughts that she didn't need, but could not purge. She was once more bound to the temporal world. What was wrong?
And then, she knew what was wrong.
She kept focusing on that door swinging shut, with no one in sight. There was something about that scene that did not sit right. Something that nagged at her brain, something that was sending up warning flags all over the place.
She was suddenly seized with a cold, chilled feeling, as if an icy finger had reached out of the North sky and touched her breast....
She turned back to the chapel. There was no one in sight, she looked at those darkened windows and suddenly felt the presence of pure, unadulterated evil.
She was unsure how she knew, but she had a feeling that their holiest of holies, the chapel, had been invaded. like a malignant virus invading a body, they had been invaded. It was there, it was festering, and lying in wait. She knew that she was going to have to investigate.
With a deep breath, and an impending sense of doom, she slowly began to walk back to the door. Over and over again, the phrase ran through her mind--'Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me ... '
"Who's coming," Juan asked Luis.
"I don't know. Look! It's another sister!
The door slowly opened, and Sister Constance took a couple of tentative steps into the darkened hallway. The fast fading light from the outside did little to illuminate the shadowy interior of the building.
"Is anyone here?" asked Sister Constance.
She felt suddenly foolish, like a child scared of t boogey man.
She was about to turn and go, when, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked in the corner, and to her horror, saw figures taking shape.
She sucked in a deep breath of air, and was about to scream when one of them leaped, and before she knew what was happening, he was on her, his strong hands gripping her throat, clamping her mouth shut and ... oh my! she thought, he was letting one of his hands fall down to her breast!
She knew to instinctively let herself go limp. There was no point at all in fighting. All that could do was get you killed. She knew that much. Beyond that, however, her reaction was much the same as Sister Beatrice's. Total lack of comprehension. Such things simply couldn't happen. It was not possible!
And yet, it seemed to be all too possible.
"Is that other one tied up?" Luis asked Juan.
"Seems to be. She's not going anywhere too soon."
"Good. Stuff a gag in her mouth and get over here to help me."
"Help you! What's the matter man, you need help holding down a woman? Oh, this is rich! I love it. I really love it. Now you find that the holy sisters have a lot more fight in them than you thought."
"You shut up, man. Besides, she's not fighting at all. But I have to keep my hand over her mouth, or she'll scream."
Sister Constance shook her head, within the limits of movement that were permitted her by Luis's hand.
"What do you mean, Sister What do you mean you won't scream. Of course you'll scream. Anyone would scream."
Again she shook her head.
Luis took his hand away from her mouth, for just a moment to test her.
There was no sound.
"You won't scream?" he asked her.
"What do you want with us? Please, just don't hurt us. We have done nothing wrong. You have no quarrel with us."
"Sister. Shut up."
"But my son, why is such behavior necessary? I do not understand. Truly I don't. You could just as easily-"
Without warning Luis slapped her.
"OH! OH my GOD!"
At the use of the Lord's name in vain, she brought her hands up to her mouth.
"Never mind, Sister," said Luis, putting his hand back over her mouth. Juan brought the remaining two strands of cord over to where Luis had Sister Constance in his grip.
"Very good," he said as the regal material was tied tightly around her hands.
"So what are we going to do with them?" asked Juan.
"I don't know." Then, getting a sly grin on his face, he turned to Juan and said "I wonder what it feels like to fuck a nun."
"Oh, hey man, this can't be. We'll die and go to Hell for something like that. No ... I cannot take part."
"Listen my man, if there is a hell, which I do not believe, we're already booked forever. Look, this isn't going to make any difference."
"Yeah, but man ... fucking the Sisters ... that's just evil."
"There is no evil. Fool! There is night and day, and there is life and there is death ... but good and evil, these are cruel jokes, and they are the means that the church gets its claws into good people and bleeds them dry."
"Luis. I never knew you were so political."
"I'm not. I'm just trying to talk myself into this."
"See man, you feel bad about it too. Come on, let's split. Let's get out of here while we still can. I don't want to do this. Man I have a bad feeling about this."
Luis looked at him.
"What are you saying man, that you're afraid of this. You can't be hurt, man, unless you are so filled with fear your fear hurts you."
Juan stared at the two nuns on the floor, their arms tied behind them, their mouths gagged and stuffed with cloth.
"It is a bad thing, man. It is a bad thing."
"Well, I'm not going to be afraid. I am going to be strong. Then, none will doubt that I am a man of power, and that I am a dangerous man, and all will respect me."
"Man, you fuck these nuns they'll put you in jail and you just get fucked in the ass. Unless they kill you first."
"I'm not afraid of a thing. Not a damn thing!" he said, his voice hard with conviction.
Sister listened to this dialogue with a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was one thing to break into the church to rob it ... goodness knows, she could understand almost, if it was money that was needed for medicine or for food ... but this was starting to sound very grim indeed.
She felt her muscles starting to quiver and shake, felt herself starting to shiver and felt her stomach seem to open up into a vast blank hollow space inside her.
"So what do you say, my man ... you going to chicken out on me or what?"
Juan stared at his companion. There was a feeling inside his gut that this situation, serious as it was still hadn't gone too far. There was still time to correct the problem. But they would have to split right now. They couldn't stay one minute more. He knew that every second he remained here, he was becoming more and more entangled in a situation that he'd never asked for, and one that he certainly didn't want.
"I'm waiting, man."
"Are you staying here if I leave?"
"Probably not. I'll just tell everybody that you were a coward."
Juan looked back at the nuns and then said, in a voice so quiet that he almost thought it was coming from someone else. "You take that one over there, I'll take this one."
"All right, my man. All right. Gladly. I was admiring her beautiful milk white breasts anyway. I think I would like to feel my lips on them."
Sister Constance started to scream, or as close as she could get to it with the gag filling her mouth.
Juan knelt down beside her and whispered softly in her ear, "this won't hurt, Sister. You'll love it. Honestly. You'll love it."
Sister Constance stared at him in mute horror. It still hadn't fully reached her brain that she was about to be violated. It wasn't that she was ignoring the fact ... she simply didn't have any way of dealing with the reality of it.
Juan, still feeling a vast burden of guilt for what he was contemplating. So much so that he almost was going to back out, even now. But then he remembered what Father Delacy had said ... 'To imagine it, is as bad in the eyes of the lord as actually doing it."
So, since he'd already imagined the act, he figured, seeing as how he'd have to go to hell anyway, he might as well go ahead and do it.
He placed his hands on Sister Constance's breasts, and felt them, surprisingly big and full beneath her robes.
He touched her mounds at the center and felt the hard points of her nipples.
"Wow Sister," he said, "you're really turned on aren't you?"
She heard him, but didn't really understand what 'turned on' meant. She did, however, know what she was feeling inside her, at the touch of his fingers to her breasts.
Fear, for one. That was ever present, and unyeilding. But there was something else, something that had no name, something that was beneath her thoughts, something that was at first so subtle that she scarcely noticed it at all.
But then, Juan produced a knife of his own and began to slowly, carefully, with the finesse and delicacy of a surgeon, slice her robes from her body.
Sister Constance had felt fear before in her life, but never anything like this. This fear filled her stomach like molten lead. It was something she could taste, something she could touch. It was thick, it was solid, it was overpowering.
It was the fear of losing her life. Never before had she faced death. Never before had she felt a cold blade against her skin. She knew that he was a maniac, that he was deranged, that he was terribly unstable. There was nothing preventing him from simply slipping that sharp point beneath the surface of her skin, running the edge across her throat....
But he didn't. Instead, he simply sliced away the cloth robes that covered her virginal body.
His fingers were trembling as he began to reveal more and more flesh. It was so perfectly smooth, and so completely white. This must be the whitest woman in the world, he thought.
She was amazingly docile, just laying there, looking up at him, her eyes wide as moons, her lips quivering beneath the gag.
"You'll love this, Sister, really, you're gonna love this. It's the greatest thing there ever was."
As his knife cut away the last seams on her white robe, he pulled the material back away from her body.
She was wearing a bra, heavy white material ... it looked like a piece of armor.
She also was wearing a girdle and large underpants. "Sister, you ought to wear tinier underwear. And lighter. It's more appealing."
Juan heard himself, heard his voice ring with sincerity and friendliness, but knew that his taunts must be stinging terribly.
"Hey look, Sister, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, you know, but this is a little strange for me, and I just want you to know that I'm a okay guy. You know?"
She had no response. She was listening to his words, but more and more it was seeming like he was speaking in a foreign tongue. She stared into his eyes, and it was like she was looking into the eyes of an animal. One that had no sense of compassion.
Then she watched that blade move towards her breasts, she sucked in her breath and said to herself, this is it. He's going to kill me now.
But he only sliced the cups of her bra apart, pulled them from her breasts and stared down at the most shockingly unexpected sight he'd ever encountered.
She had gorgeous breasts. Utterly perfect.
"Sister, you should never have been a nun. It's a crime to keep a body like this from the world."
He looked down the length of her body, letting his eyes drift across the flat plain of her stomach, down past her slender waist and the outward slope of her hips to where her thighs came together. There was nothing to be seen beneath the heavy layers of material in her girdle, but he could see the shape of her slim well-formed thighs, and as he stared at her, he felt his cock starting to get hard.
"Sister," he said, placing a hand on her breasts, "I just can't help myself. You got a beautiful body. I gotta have it, you know what I mean?"
She understood that.
She started to shake her head violently from side to side, emitting a constant stream of sounds that even with the gag were clearly understandable as the word "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO", all the while trying to move away from him.
But her bound wrists were beneath her body, and the plain simple truth was, it hurt to try to scoot across the stone floor.
But there was a much more complex truth at work as well.
It lodged right between her thighs, and it was a truth that she was reluctant to acknowledge. One that she didn't know how to cope with at all.
As the point was coming towards her, she started to squirm insanely.
"Easy, easy, Sister. "You don't want to go jerking that beautiful body of yours right up against my knife. That wouldn't be healthy at all."
He slid it under the elastic band around her thigh and once again demonstrated how sharp it was. Almost effortlessly, it sliced right through the material, and grew very loose as the elastic holding bands were severed one by one.
Then, he was slicing through the waist band, and finally one final slice through the other leg band, and her girdle fell away too.
Sister Constance's muscles were rigid now, as if rigor mortis had set in.
She made no sound, as if the awesome reality had finally settled onto her and left her speechless.
Juan pulled her panties down, and then, for the first time in her life, Sister Constance felt the hot gaze of a male's hungry eyes on her pussy.
She felt, as well, a slowly building tingle inside her. From somewhere deep within the depths of her soft pink flesh, so wet and dripping, she felt a heat that she'd never known before. Perhaps it was triggered by the fright ... perhaps there were other elements involved. She only knew that for the first time in years, she was without the protection of her order, of her lifestle, she was simply facing the world as her own self ... in her natural state, you might say, and she found it terrifying, yet somehow, she found that it made her feel more vital and alive than she would have believed possible.
"You got a real wet cunt, Sister, you know that? What's that mean? That you got yourself in a real heat over me? I'll bet that's what it is. You got yourself in a real heat over me, don't you?"
She made no movement.
"Yeah ... I'll just bet that's what it means."
He let his fingers touch her pussy lips
MMOh, yeah ... so hot, so wet, so slippery...."
She scarcely dared to breathe.
He began to probe inside her pussy, although it was clear that she was a bona fide virgin so he went slow.
She was amazingly tight, and he was able to bury his finger only a couple of inches before the tightness of her walls forced him to stop.
"Hooo-boy! You got yourself one tight pussy, Sister. That's gonna be a real problem."
He still had the tips of his fingers inside her cunt, although he wasn't trying to push hard now. '
Instead, he pressed his fingers against the side of her hole, letting the tip run completely around the circular opening.
She was amazingly wet. He hadn't expected it. There were girls he knew who liked to fuck and who did it all the time that couldn't get this hot. He thought about it and realized that a nun simply never got any. They get horny too. This one seemed to have a lot of juice backed up in her.
He moved the tip of his finger up to her clit. To his surprise he found it already stiff and erect.
He pulled her lips apart and pressed gently against her clit.
The shaft, running back up beneath the flesh of her pussy was full and hard.
He could trace the entire outline with his finger tip all the way from the point were her inner lips came together at the tip of her clit up to the very top of her slit.
She started to roll her hips against his hand.
"Wow, you're really getting off on this, aren't you Sister. That makes me feel good, like I'm performing a service or something. I'll bet you ain't never had anyone do this to your clit before, have you?"
He began to press against it harder.
Although she could make no sound, Sister Constance found herself shocked that it could be such a pleasurable experience.
She was able to feel every single centimeter that his finger crossed over her skin.
It was like a faint current of electricity, and it was getting stronger all the time.
He placed his forefinger on one side of her clit and his thumb on the other, and began to pinch her clit. Very softly, very gently, but with a steady, regular rhythm.
Squeeze.
Release.
Squeeze.
Release.
Squeeze.
Release.
She began to jerk madly with her hips every time his finger pressing into his thumb. He moved back along the length of her shaft, all the while applying a steady pressure to her clit.
She was getting wetter and wetter, and her breasts were starting to shake and jiggle from the movements of her body.
"Ah, Sister, you got lovely breasts," Juan said, finding himself so caught up now in the process of playing with her body, that he'd already forgotten all of the doubts and fears that he'd originally felt. Now, he was simply going crazy with her. She was nothing more than a another woman, tied up, growing hot from his touch, and ready and waiting to be fucked.
She raised her hips up just a little bit.
Juan looked her in the face, but her eyes were closed. It seemed to have been a reflex, nothing more. She might even have forgotten herself that she was a nun and wasn't supposed to like this stuff.
He spread her lips further apart, enough that he could see the dark opening of her hole.
'Then he inserted a finger into her again.
Pushing in as far as he could, he found her hymen quickly, and probed at the membrane. It wasn't the solid wall that maidenheads were always described as ... in fact, with just one finger, he was able to press on beyond, right through the center.
But the opening was extremely narrow, and his cock would wreck havoc with the sensitive flesh.
He began to press his finger against her cunt walls in a circular movement, rolling the pressure in a circular motion all around the inside of her pussy, particularly against her maidenhead.
She started to moan, and her eyes were opened wide again.
They were filled with fear this time.
She was thinking to herself, finally, that he was serious. That he was going to go through with it. That he was going to stick that thing of his up inside her and destroy her precious body. She could no longer be a temple for the Lord, she thought to herself. It was a sobering thought, and yet, try as she would, she could not banish that ever mounting tingle between her legs. It was a furious sensation, one that had her body tying itself in knots. She knew what it was ... she had once or twice in the past actually seen fit to touch herself ... she remembered the feelings were similar, though by no means as intense ... she didn't seem to know as much about the sensitive points on her own body as this total stranger.
In fact, what he was doing to her was possibly the most delicious thing that she'd ever experienced in her life ... except for the moment of her awareness that she was being called into the work of the lord.
He was standing up now, he was taking off his pants, he was dropping his underwear down to his ankles, and ... oh my goodness! thought Sister Constance. She'd of course seen the male member before, but only on children. This was no child ... that was obvious.
She felt panic seize her muscles
He was going to stick it into her!! ! He was going to split her wide open!!
She started to kick, reflexively.
Juan grabbed hold of her feet, and held her tightly about the ankles. "Take it easy, Sister Take it easy. You don't need to do all this. It's not going to be that bad."
He dropped to his knees, between her legs, and she started to really panic now.
"Come on, Sister, you have to cool it now. I'm going to have to make you calm down, honest, and I don't want to hurt you.
NO!! ! ! Sister Constance screamed to herself, no no no no no no, you're not going to use that awful thing on me, please, oh no no no no no....
But he pinned her with his body, and as she tried futilely to struggle, he placed the glans of his cock up against her cunt lips.
She was bucking like a wild bronco now, trying to throw him off, but there was nothing that she could do. He had her locked tight.
She cast her hips one way and then the other way, but nothing would dislodge him from her body.
"Here we go now. Sister, and it'll feel a lot better if you don't fight it."
He thrust forward.
He felt his glans press against her cunt, but it felt like he wasn't in the right spot, because it made no forward movement at all.
He looked down between her legs, and saw, to his surprise that he was up against her hole after all.
She'd just never been stretched.
She was making strange noises now, and as he started to press harder, the noises kept getting weirder and weirder. Her body was shaking, jerking, quivering, and otherwise going into uncontrollable spasms.
"That's pretty good, Sister, but you're supposed to wait till I got it up inside you before you start to go crazy."
He pressed again, and continued to press against her until, at last, he felt her body start to yield. The thick mushroom shaped head started to squeeze its way inside her, and he could feel her hole slowly stretch as he forced more and more of his cock into it.
She was making noises that were positively supernatural now. It sounded like someone had opened the gates of hell and he was listening to the wails of the eternal dead.
And even now, it was only his head that was up inside her.
The rest of his cock would follow.
She was incredibly lubricated, but even so, the walls were so narrow that he found the friction to be more than he was able to deal with.
"You're gonna fight me every step of the way, aren't you Sister?" he asked.
Then he pulled the head back, not all the way out, but back far enough to help spread the juices over it more evenly.
This reduced the friction considerably on the small portion of his cock that he'd already managed to get inside her, but there was still a good seven or eight inches that were dry as an old bone.
He started to press into her again.
He could feel the rim of her hole grip his cock, tighter and tighter, and then, as a little more of his shaft began to slide into her, he could feel her walls pressing in and around him.
Then, he hit the obstacle ... her hymen.
It hurt her just to have his cock this far inside her ... imagine what she'd feel when he broke her hymen, he thought to himself.
Well, when there's something difficult to do, the only sure way of doing it is to just plunge ahead and do it.
So ... WHAM!! ! !
Her body jerked like someone had stuck her finger in a light socket.
He felt a tearing of flesh and membranes, and then, the cock was slowly moving on through her cunt, the walls growing ever more tight as he approached the bottom of her cunt well.
He couldn't get the whole thing inside her.
It was just too small a pussy.
He could feel the glans pressing against the back wall, pushing harder and harder, stretching the elastic membrane.
The sounds from her throat were just gurgling sounds now. Her face was a white sheet. Her breasts were shaking constantly from the muscle spasms that were rippling through her.
Juan started to pull his cock back out of her, all the way, until only the glans was still between the inner lips that surrounded the hole of her cunt.
He started to shake his hips, letting the mushroom shaped glans move in and out with faster and faster speed.
Her hips were moving constantly. He wasn't sure if she was rolling them from pain or from pleasure, but to tell the truth, he didn't care.
He was already well past the point of being able to reason what he was doing. He was just doing it.
In and out, in and out.
Down now, further into her cunt.
He could feel the juices filling her pussy, could feel her tight walls gripping his cock, and it was just about the most delicious thing he'd ever experienced in his life. A nun! A fucking nun! He was fucking a fucking nun!
Sister Constance could feel the cold from the stone floor seeping through the remnants of her robe that was still beneath her body.
Her buttocks, pressed tightly against the floor with only the robe in between were starting to go numb.
-likewise the top of her back.
She felt that huge thing between her legs, and knew at last, the meaning of the word agony.
The priests and nuns from her childhood had always spoken of the need to suffer, of the fact that suffering made you strong. She had never been too sure about that concept, but she knew that she wasn't going to survive this unless she remained steadfast ... perhaps she could appeal to the Saviour ... perhaps ... Oh MY! she thought to herself, feeling his long pole start to crawl once more into her canal, filling her cunt with the harsh sensations of friction grating against the walls and membranes of her pussy.
She had passed beyond thought and reason and now was simply adrift on a vast empty expanse of sensation.
Her body felt like it was shrinking, that the sensations inside her nerves were simply too intense for a physical form to contain, and thus, she was more and more spilling out into some twisted metaphysical dimension that may never have been part of the original plan of creation, but was most likely improvised out of necessity about five minutes after Adam ate the apple.
Oh Sweet Jesus, she thought, protect me from this onslaught of sensation ... forgive my weak flesh ... oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God....
She felt herself opening up now, felt her mind and her soul tumbling down, down, down through an endless space, felt herself lose all sense of self, all sense of time and place....
She was aware only of the powerful sensations that were tearing through her body, the blast of sensation pouring out of her cunt.
She didn't know it, of course, but she was coming. She felt a sudden increase in the temperature inside her pussy, and felt a strange kind of splashing sensation that she couldn't possibly have know was Juan's cock and balls exploding in his own orgasm.
All she knew was that it was something that she'd never before conceived in her wildest imagination.
She thought, if this can be so much fun, and they tell us it's such a sin, perhaps they've been lying. Perhaps they've been lying about other things as well.
In and out he plunged. Harder and harder, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, pounding his cock into her with a passion that stunned her.
She'd never seen the love act in her life, never read about it, never really allowed herself to think about it. Thus, it's not surprising that she found his actions a surprise.
Still, she doubted that even if she had thought about it, or read about it, or seen movies of it that she would have expected it to be like this.
In and out, in and out.
She felt her orgasm holding at the same pounding, throbbing level of intensity, felt her juices starting to pour forth with reckless abandon, felt her cunt beginning to grow accustomed to the pounding force of his cock, and found that she didn't want it to end.
But end it must, as she well knew.
Even now, she sensed a waning of the taut pressure that had seemed to inflate his cock.
He was still running it in and out of her, but it had a more flexible feel to it now. It was able to bend and give against the soft contours of her cunt walls, and finally the pressure of her cunt trying to close back to its natural state was able to push it out of her altogether. She felt a momentary twinge of regret, but almost at the same time, the reality of h?r situation once more descended onto her shoulders and she (mentally, at least) was forced to once again don her habit. She'd just been raped. The only possible reaction was shocked horror.
Wasn't it?
She slowly became aware of a different sound.
It was a moan, not unlike the moans that had been drifting through her head the entire time that the young man had been ... assaulting ... her. She raised her head and looked to the other side of the hallway where Sister Beatrice was undergoing her own torment, and what she saw there made her sick. So much so that she had to turn away and vomit.
Juan screamed.
"My God man, what are you doing? You fucking fool! You stupid fucking fool!"
Sister Beatrice lay on the floor, little more than a pile of raw, quivering flesh, blood oozing all over her body.
There was a large crucifix protruding from her cunt.
Her naked body bled profusely from a mass of wounds; the demented fool had taken a knife and carved crosses all over her skin. Red, dripping crosses. The sacrificial lamb. Blood of the Saviour. The red of the flames. Flames of the burning heat of hell.
"Man, we got to get out of here. And I mean now!" Juan yelled to Luis, who, standing over Sister Beatrice, seemed to regard her as a phenomenon just discovered, as though the wreck of her body was someone else's handiwork.
Juan grabbed him by the arm, jerked him around and together they made for the door.
Before racing outside, he turned to Sister Constance who by now had regained her composure.
"I'm sorry Sister," he said, "I never meant for this to happen."
And then they were gone, and Sister Constance's thoughts were quickly smothered and drowned by a rising series of shrieks and screams. It was not until some time later that she realized that they were her own.
CHAPTER TWO
In the fashionable East Side apartments, the red flush of horrified anger could easily be seen on his cheeks as the residents watched their twenty-five inch color TV screens.
In the less affluent areas of the city, flickering black and white images nonetheless managed to convey the look of shock and disbelief on his face. Some heard only a voice over the radio. The message, whether heard, seen or just read the next morning in the papers was the same.
"We are, of course, devastated by this," said the priest, Father Delacy, his usual impeccable calm at last broken, his eyes glowing like two pieces of hot coal.
"Father, is there any notion of who the assailants were?"
"No. Only that there were two. According to reports, only one of the Sisters was actually assaulted, but of course, we cannot excuse either one of the monsters ... though, heh heh, of course, we do, as children of our Lord, forgive them. But the Lord himself demands justice in a situation such as this, and I personally would love nothing more than to be his instrument here on earth to carry it out."
"What do you mean by that?" asked the news reporter.
"Exactly what it says. They do not deserve to live. They are cancerous cells in the organism of our society. The only cure is radical surgery to remove and destroy them."
"Father, as a man of the church, and thus, a man of peace, do you not find any contradiction in those sentiments?"
"None. When it was necessary, our Lord took a whip and in an act of outright, blatant violence, drove the moneychangers and the thieves from the temple. In a metaphorical sense, I suggest merely the same."
"Metaphorical?"
"Well, I wouldn't use a whip. Maybe something more along the line of red-hot tongs, applied to their--! "
At which point, the report cuts back to the broadcast.
But the point was well made, and none could doubt the area of anatomy that the Father, in his wisdom, was suggesting as a worthy recipient for those red-hot tongs.
In the hospital, Sister Beatrice enjoyed twenty-four hour protection, not to shield her from any further attacks, but to shield her from the press. They did not want her name to be known. "May the saints preserve us," Sister Marigold had muttered when the police Lieutenant suggested that she might have to testify at the trial.
"I know Ma'am," he said, his manner most understanding, "it's a terrible thing. Simply terrible. I don't know what I'd do if I was in your situation. But it's just a darned shame. I can imagine that it might be embarrassing for the sister to have to get up in court and all."
"Lieutenant, have you gone daft? Embarrassing? Why, it's the supreme humiliation. She'd be marked for life. Please, allow her to retain her dignity."
"Yes Ma'am, I realize what you're saying, but you have to agree that pulling these punks off the street and getting them behind bars where the prison community can take care of them in the manner that they truly deserve is the top most priority. Wouldn't you agree to that?"
Lieutenant, you'll have to discuss it with Father Delacy. I'm just a poor nun who minds her own business and tries to do things the correct and proper way, and strives to see that the Lord's work is done to his satisfaction here on earth."
"Yes Ma'am," said the police detective, chomping on a cigar that seemed to have gone out four months ago. "A very commendable life. I tip my hat to you. Now, do you think I might have a word with the other one. Sister Constance?"
Sister Marigold led him down the hall and opened a door.
"I'll send her."
"Thank you, Ma'am." he said, giving her a polite nod.
It was a den-like room, with wood paneled walls and comfortable chairs. He pulled out a lighter, started to light his cigar and then thought better of it. No sense in annoying the nun. He'd probably do enough of that anyway
A door opened, and in walked Sister Constance. The lieutenant rose and offered his hand which she took and grasped with a surprisingly strong grip.
"Sister, I'm sorry for this inconvenience, but there are just a few items I need to clear up. I'm sure you can appreciate that you could be a pivotal element in cracking this case."
"Certainly, Lieutenant. Anything I can do to be of assistance."
"Now, you say you got a good look at both of them?"
"Yes, I did. But it was only for a second. You see, I walked in and I saw that they had poor Sister Beatrice tied up on the floor ... oh, poor Sister Beatrice, it's just so horrible," she said, starting to cry.
"Now, now, that's all right. I understand. But if we could just get through these few questions, ma'am, I'd be glad to leave you alone. Now, you say one of them grabbed you?"
"Yes. I never heard his name."
"But the other one was named Luis. You distinctly heard that, am I correct?"
"Yes. There was an argument. The one named Luis yelled at the other one for using his name."
"Uh-huh. So then, what happened."
"Lieutenant, I already went over this with the officers who first arrived on the scene. I'm sure you can get all this information from them."
"I understand. But you were pretty excited and upset then and I'd just like to hear your version of the situation now that you've had a chance to think about it a little bit."
"I see."
"So then, you were grabbed, and what happened?"
"Well, the other one, this Luis person, said, 'Get her out of here' to the boy who was holding me. And he asked where he should take me, and Luis said to him, i don't care, just get her out of here. Do what you want'. I distinctly remember him saying that."
"And so then, he took you into the chapel itself, correct?"
"Correct. And he cut my robes off, and I was certain that he was going to rape me, but he did not. He just talked to me. I had a feeling, Lieutenant, that he was scared. I felt a frightened boy there. A boy who had reluctantly been pressured into something that he didn't want to do, and who simply couldn't go through with it."
"So you weren't hurt at all. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"I see."
"Is there anything else, Lieutenant."
"Yes Ma'am, I'm afraid there is. It would be a real big help to us if you could come down to the station house and talk a little bit to our artist. He could come up with a fairly good composite drawing of the guys who did this. You know what I mean?"
She hesitated a moment before answering.
"Sister, was there anything wrong. Something you forgot to tell me? Or did I say something that bothered you?"
"No, no, nothing like that. It's just that I don't know for sure that I'd be able to give a good enough description that could be used."
"Sure you can. Anyone can. It'll take a little time, is all."
"All right, I'll be down. When?"
"They agreed on a time the following day, and then the Lieutenant made his exit.
Sister Constance left the room to return to her quarters where she was resting in seclusion. There were questions, of course, but no one really challenged her version of the story. Her heart pounded when she thought about what she was doing. She still did not have a very good handle on the reasons that motivated her. It made no sense, she knew. But somehow, she felt that boy had done her a favor, a beautiful, delicious favor. He'd given her something that she hadn't been able to get from anything else in her life, and she couldn't bear the thought of seeing him behind bars. Besides, she'd enjoyed it. That couldn't be rape, could it?
Well, of course it was being an accessory. But that wasn't the same thing, at all, was it?
She suddenly realized that she wasn't ready to answer that question, for herself or for anyone else. She simply didn't know. But she did know how she felt. She felt that he'd done nothing wrong. Not to her. It was that other one. That monster. He was the one who needed to be hunted down like a wolverine or a weasel.
She walked through the open archway that separated the offices of the church and convent from the living quarters.
She heard a sudden padding of feet, and turned around with a horrified start.
"Oh!" she cried, when she saw the brute standing there.
A form appeared out of the shadows.
"Sorry to scare you, sister, but I'm just breaking him in."
"I don't understand,"
"Well, this is one of the Doberman's that the Father ordered to guard the place. I'm getting him used to the grounds. They learn fast. Pretty soon, they'll have a fairly good idea of who belongs here and who doesn't."
"How many are there " she asked.
"Three. That's more than enough for a place this size. I told the Father that he could get by with one or two at the most, but he was determined. He said with his fist pounding the desk, 'We'll protect the sovereignty of this establishment no matter what the cost or hardship. No sister should ever have to fear this happening again.'
"So, what are you going to do," the man went on.
Sister Constance stared down at the dog, whose tongue was lolling lazily out of his mouth.
She stared ... and then, suddenly, realized that she was still staring.
"Sister? Uh, Sister ... you all right?"
"What?! Oh, yes," she said, with an embarrassed chuckle. "My, what a ... powerful looking animal."
"Oh yeah, these fellows are serious little devils."
He stuck his hand inside the dog's mouth and forced his jaws open. "These babies can bite clear through a human throat with one chomp," he said, sounding proud as if he'd designed the jaws himself.
"Oh," said Sister Constance, "please, I've had enough blood for one week."
"Oh, sure, sorry Sister." Then, he peered at her more closely. "Say, you're the one who was there, aren't you?"
"Yes. I was."
"Oh gosh, and here I am talking about throats getting chewed out and all. Gosh, me and my mouth."
He slapped himself across the face a couple of times, playfully, and Sister Constance had to laugh.
"No, no, that's quite all right."
Suddenly the dog took four quick steps towards Sister Constance and began to bury his nose in her crotch, sniffing curiously.
"HEY!" the trainer yelled, giving the leash a sharp jerk, nearly breaking the dog's neck as he pulled him away.
"Sister, I'm sorry, honest to God, he don't never do that sort of stuff ... I mean ... oh gosh, listen, I'm sorry."
"Please," she said, embarrassed, and just wanting to get to her room, "may God go with you. Think nothing of it."
When she got to her room, she collapsed on her bed in a fit of exhaustion. She'd never felt so drained in her life. It was too much. So many things had happened, that she couldn't possibly cope with them all.
It was like a bizarre nightmare, it was like being dropped off in a foreign country, one where you not only couldn't speak the language, you'd never even known it existed.
She tried to assimilate everything, but try though she would, it remained just a blur.
Sister Beatrice's horribly mutilated body, the image of the crucifix sticking from her body....
It was terrible, and her sin was all the worse because she was lying about her knowledge. Sister Beatrice might die, and she was protecting one of her assailants. She had no doubts that if she hadn't come through that door when she did, the young man who'd raped her would have taken his turn with Sister Beatrice. And even as it was, he'd unquestionably assaulted and raped her. Why was she protecting him? Why was she lying for him?
How could she justify it?
She couldn't. That was clear. There was no justification, no excuse, and thus, there could be no forgiveness, no redemption. She was doomed. She would spend eternity in hell, burning in the tormenting pit of fire.
Oh dear GOD, please forgive me, she prayed earnestly in silence, but even as she did so, she knew that the one thing necessary for such forgiveness to descend upon her was beyond her reach.
She couldn't tell the truth about her attack. She could say nothing now, because she'd already lied. She had already backed herself into a corner.
But even if she'd still had the option opened to her, she couldn't say with certainty that she would have recanted, that she would have turned him in, The experience had been too powerful. The change in her had been too primal for her to deal with it objectively. ;
She thought again about the fire that had burned in her crotch, about the pounding pole of flesh that had been driven between her legs.
Harder and harder he'd pounded her, and still she'd wanted more.
She'd weakened, she'd given herself over to the impulses of the flesh, and she therefore could no longer consider herself in a state of grace.
And the truth was, she didn't care.
She'd discovered the physical world. The world of the flesh. The world of her body. She couldn't possibly return to her way of thinking as it had been. Before....
Then, she remembered that strange scene with the dog trainer.
That awesome brute, sticking his snout right up to her ... her ... she didn't even have a word for it. She'd never focused her thoughts on her body clearly enough to need to think about it in any terms that were more concise than a vague 'down there'.
What was the common vernacular word for it? Cunt. Pussy. Of course. She knew it. But she'd never allowed herself to even think them.
One remained pure by disassociating oneself from all possible tainting influences.
She closed her eyes, and found the strangest, most unfamiliar images there.
She saw male members. Throbbing, pulsing, male members. She felt fingers between her legs. She felt pressure at her ... what was it? Her clitoris. That's what it was. She felt the contact with that maddeningly delicious bud of nerves, and knew instinctively, even now, that it was something that she couldn't live without. If that meant that she could no longer perform the Lord's work, so be it. But somehow, she suspected that the Lord didn't really mind. He wasn't a cruel God. Surely he wouldn't have given his servants such a powerful instrument of pleasure, and then deny them the joy of experiencing it, would he?
She suspected that Father Delacy would have something rather strong to say on the subject. So would the Mother Superior.
Well, she'd heard both points of view. She'd grown up with them. She'd had them burned into her brain. And now, she was going to follow her own judgment.
As she knew she would, she brought her fingers to the hem of her robe, and slowly began to lift it.
She held her breath. Discovery of even this private pleasure would mean castigation and ostracization. But more, it would raise other questions that she was in no way prepared to answer right now.
She glanced over at her door to make sure that the lock was securely fastened.
Then, pulling her robes higher, she let her fingertips drift over the smooth surface of her thighs.
She seldom had allowed herself the luxury of touching her body. It was as terrible a sin as any other, and all were shunned.
Thus, it took her a few moments of experimentation to realize that the softer her touch, the more intense the sensations were that spilled off her fingers.
She became aware of an increase in the rate of her breathing, and felt a tingling break out all over her body.
She began to move her fingers closer to her crotch, but there was still a sense of taboo about actually touching herself there, so she contented herself at first with carefully applied pressure through her underwear.
But gradually, as she felt more and more response spilling out of her crotch, as she began to isolate the center of her feelings more and more at the top of her slit, as she began to be able to actually feel the hardening of her clit, she became braver, bolder, and finally, she simply pulled her underwear all the way off.
Her pussy felt cool. It wasn't often exposed to the air like this, and even less was it touched, except when she was bathing, and at those times she always took great pains to insure that she would do nothing that might be construed as a sinful act of self manipulation.
Now, she felt no such worries.
She knew exactly what she was doing, and why.
Scarcely daring to breathe, she let her fingers make direct contact with her wet flesh.
It was as if an electrode had been touched to her.
She moaned loudly and felt her muscles all jerk wildly.
It was only the faintest of touches, for she was unsure of what she was doing.
But the point was made. The softer the touch, the more intense the sensations that spilled out of her.
She began to let her fingers drift up and down the length of her slit, pushing them in further and further each time she made a pass.
As she kept it up, her clit reached a point where it was stiff enough to begin protruding above the level of her outer pussy lips.
Her finger began to graze across it every time they moved up or down her slit.
The increase in sensation at that spot was so profound that she couldn't help but notice it.
She began to focus her attentions right at that spot, directly above her sensitive bud of nerves.
Every time she ran her finger tip across it, she felt it throb and pulse. Waves of sensation rippled out from that epicenter until her whole body quaked.
She began to move it faster.
She tried pressing harder, but found that it was simply more uncomfortable. Too much sensation. So she reduced, the pressure once more, until she was scarcely making contact at all.
She began a fluttering movement over that sensitive bud of nerves.
Faster and faster, keeping her finger right at the tip.
Then, she discovered that it extended back a ways, and she remembered what he'd done to her, the way his fingers had pinched lightly up and down the length of the tiny shaft.
She tried now to imitate him.
She placed her thumb and forefinger on either side of her clit and began to press them together.
It took her a few moments to find the correct pressure, but once she had it down, she thought she was going to go out of her mind.
It was hot, and it was liquid, and it felt like she was losing her mind.
Her muscles grew more and more tense, and then they simply began to go into spasms that she couldn't have controlled if she'd been thinking about it. Which she wasn't.
She was focused purely on the feelings of touching her clit .
She could feel the entire outline of the small sensitive organ now, could feel it hard and bulging against the surface membranes that were located just beneath the folds of her pussy lips.
She'd never allowed herself to explore her cunt before, and now, she found it to be an amazing revelation, as she moved her fingers all through the mushy tissues.
The more she did it to herself, the more aroused her tissues became until, at last, the entire area was virtually as sensitive as the clit itself.
She tried pulling her lips apart, and tried pressing them together, and she tried pinching them, and then she tried to explore the region around the hole of her pussy, but finding that still too sensitive from her ordeal, she returned finally to her clit.
That was something she was becoming confident about.
She knew that it would respond to the maximum each time she touched it. She kept it up, stroking the hard nerve bud again and again, until she felt something else taking place inside her body.
It was the same thing she'd experienced lying on the stone floor with that young man's organ in her ... out lacking the element of fear and surprise. But there was the same feeling of falling, of a pit of emptiness opening up inside her stomach, of tumbling head over heels into a bottomless well of passionate sensation.
She felt her muscles start to spasm and jerk, felt her hips rolling as if movements that were beyond her control. She kept the stimulation steady and constant against her clit, moving faster and faster, but never really getting too hard with the pressure that she was bringing to bear on her bud of nerves.
Faster, faster, driving the heat in her body higher and higher, until finally, she could no long contain herself.
She cried out.
It wasn't a loud cry, but it was sharp and piercing. She was unused to feeling her body go into orgasms, and she wasn't prepared for the blast of sensation that rushed through her when it hit.
She felt like a wave was rolling over her.
She felt like she was on a subway train just as it was derailing.
She felt like the earth was opening up beneath her.
She felt like the universe was swallowing her.
She cried out once more, still mindlessly stroking her clit without pause.
She held her breath, feeling the pressure add to what was already pounding inside her body.
Faster and faster, moving that gentle bud of nerves back and forth, all through her pussy.
She let her fingers dip into her hole once more, only this time, she was aroused enough that she didn't notice how raw and tender the membranes were. In fact, what had seemed to be painful now was simply an additional sensation that only served to increase her arousal.
She slid her finger up into her hole, and cried out again as she touched the tattered remnants of her maidenhead ... then she plunged further into herself, until she was stretching her walls with reckless abandon.
She started to roll her fingers around inside her pussy, pressing against anything that she came in contact with.
There was juice all over the place, coating her thighs, her fingers, her hand, her wrist, her pubic hair....
Harder and harder now, feeling the sensations filling her mind and soul as her fingers were filling her cunt.
It was even more delicious than before, because now, she had complete control over the sensations. She could orchestrate everything.
Harder, harder.
Deeper and deeper.
Faster and faster.
Into her cunt.
Over her clit.
Into her cunt again.
Then back to her clit.
She felt the waves of orgasm rolling one after another now, without pause, relentlessly crashing over her body, sending her into a dimension of reality that she'd never known before. It was a place from which she wished never to return.
She was holding her breath, letting the pressure in her cunt build up to a fever pitch, just about ready to scream out.
Scream more loudly than she'd screamed yet. More loudly, in fact, than she'd ever screamed in her life. She could feel it coming, building up in her throat, just about ready to come tumbling out now--!
There was a knock on the door.
"Sister Constance," called a voice, "are you all right?"
It was Sister Marigold. Dear Sister Marigold.
She was such a nosey bitch, thought Sister Constance, utterly dismayed. She could feel the sensations dwindling now, and like those first moments of awakening, when you wish fervently that you could return to the dream you'd been startled out of, she resisted the fact that the real world had intruded.
"Sister Constance!" called Sister Marigold once more. "Are you all right?"
Dream. Sleep. Of course.
"What ... ? " she called out drowsily.
Again the knock. "I heard screaming."
She got out of bed, mussed her hair a little, tried to make her eyes look tired and opened the door.
"Huh ... ? " she asked, looking only half conscious.
"I heard noises," Sister Marigold said suspiciously.
"I ... I ... guess I was having ... a dream...."
She looked about, trying to get her bearings.
"A dream? You poor, poor dear," she said, comfortingly. "You've had such a terrible ordeal, haven't you."
"Oh ... it's not that bad. But I guess I'm pretty tired. I must have fallen asleep with the lights on."
Sister Marigold looked into the room, again with a suspicious twist to her lips and a peculiar frown on her face.
"I suppose sso. I was worried. That's all."
"I know you were, Sister Marigold, and I'm grateful for your concern. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have the support and the companionship of the sisters."
"Well of course," she replied, "that's exactly what we're here for. To provide support ... and to keep an eye on sisters who need assistance."
Now what did she mean by that, thought Sister Constance to herself.
But she smiled and thanked Sister Marigold for her concern and politely, but firmly closed the door. Sister Marigold, right up to the moment that the door actually shut, was trying to look inside the room, as if there might be some secret hidden away in there.
Sister Constance sat on the bed, and realized that she needed to get away. She needed to remove herself from all these influences, all of these cluttering items that were making it harder and harder for her to deal effectively with her situation, and with her life.
For the first time since she'd made the decision to give her life over to the work of the Lord, she found herself doubting. She hated it, she hated herself for falling into the trap against which she'd been warned, but now, for the first time, she understood why doubt and skepticism were so feared by the church. One caught in their grip is powerless to disregard the feelings that they are experiencing. It is impossible. It cannot be done.
And now she was a doubter, and she couldn't disregard that fact either. Something had entered her life. It had been unbidden, unlooked for, and unwelcome, but once there, it had also proven to be unavoidable.
In some strange way, it was herself, or at least an aspect of herself before never even suspected.
She brought her fingers up to her nose, sniffed at them, and realized that she'd never before smelled that scent. Something that was utterly fundamental to her own body, she was totally unfamiliar with.
It seemed that something was seriously out of balance.
There was a feeling of energy between her legs, a feeling that there were resources there that had never been tapped.
Well, she wanted to tap them.
She turned out the light in her room, removed her robes and before getting into bed, noticed that the moon was bright and full in an cloudless sky. She went to the window, warmed somehow by its cold light. She looked down onto the grounds of the convent, and saw there a dark form slipping among the other stationary shadows.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Was it another prowler! She couldn't bear the thought. Not right now, at least. She still hadn't come to terms with the last one.
She saw it again.
And then she saw another.
They were moving rapidly, not bothering to keep to the bushes and trees.
Then, she had to laugh. The two shapes moved out into the moonlight, and she saw that they were the dogs. Two of them, anyway. She wondered where the third was.
She watched them moving through the yard, and felt a little more protected, a little more comforted.
As she lay back on her bed, she remembered the scene earlier, when one of those dogs had stuck his snout right into her....
She had been surprised at how incredibly erotic that had been. The touch of that dog's nose to her cunt had sent a paralyzing wave of shuddering sensation all through her body.
She thought about the dog, and saw that huge, pink tongue hanging lazily from his mouth.
That tongue, so vast, so powerful....
She brought her fingers up to her cunt again, once more started to explore her new found sexuality, once more began to run her fingertips up and down through her slit, caressing her hard clit (it hadn't really gone soft yet), all the while thinking thoughts of that large, lolling wet pink tongue.
CHAPTER THREE
"But Father Delacy," said Sister Constance, "I don't see why I can't. It's a common privilege granted often."
"Of course it is, my dear, but I simply feel, and I'm certain that the Mother agrees with me....
He glanced in the direction of the Mother Superior, who nodded sagely.
"Yes, you see, I feel simply that you need to recover from your ordeal before venturing into the world."
"I need a rest, Father. I need a rest from the convent."
"I see."
The Mother Superior frowned, looking grim.
"I'm not certain, Sister Constance, that I understand that fully."
"Well," she said, aware that by their standards at least, she must not be making much sense.
"I just need to get some things out of my mind."
"And what might some of those things be, Sister Constance?" asked Father Delacy.
"It was all just so horrible. I mean, Sister Beatrice is still in the hospital and I wasn't even touched. I just feel so guilty."
The priest and the Mother Superior exchanged glances.
Sister Constance noticed clearly.
She made no comment however, nor did she act like she'd noticed.
"Isn't there some way that you can grant me a leave?"
"No. I am sorry, my child. There is, however, a rest home of sorts located about fifty miles from here ... "
"No thank you ... Father. I realize that you are correct. I need most of all to remain right where I am and pray. Pray that the images of that horrible scene will be erased from my mind forever."
"No child, sometimes it is good for us to bear our scars. They can serve as a reminder that we are fragile, and that we are easily wounded if we are not careful."
"Yes, Father."
"Was there anything else, child."
"No Father."
"Very well. You may go now. I will see that you are given a reduced load and that you are allowed ample time to rest. Does that suit you?"
"Yes, Father, she said in a meek voice. She left and walked the stone corridors leading back to her room.
It was starting to get bad.
She couldn't ignore the forces that seemed to be gathering between her legs, with a power that increased daily.
She had hoped that somehow she might be able to convince Father Delacy to allow her to take a rest break, to get away from the influence of the convent, the atmosphere and the pain of her ordeal....
But there was something else, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. But there had been some kind of unspoken communication between the Father and the
Mother Superior. She couldn't believe that they were actually aware of the truth, or even that they might suspect the truth ... but there was something going on between them, and she didn't like it.
Perhaps they suspected something, suspected that she'd been soiled, that her soul was no longer pure, that she was falling victim to the dread scourge of the church ... worldly desires.
Well, it was true. She was.
That was exactly what she was developing, and the focus was right between her legs.
She couldn't seem to control it.
No matter what she'd be doing during the day, there would be the incessant tingling of her clitoris. Every time she touched herself there (something that was happening with greater and greater frequency), she found that she would be extremely wet, and that the slightest contact with her clitoris, or really any part of her genitals, was usually enough to send her into a wild fit of ecstatic emotion.
She'd taken to wearing nothing beneath her robes.
It was much more comfortable, and she enjoyed the feeling of the open air on her cunt. It was refreshing and cool, and that was something that had been unknown before.
She didn't know it yet, but she was already on her way to renouncing her vows. She'd renounced them spiritually the moment she decided that sex was pleasurable. She wasn't prepared yet to renounce them in the flesh. But she was already giving off the warning signs. It was this profusion of warning signals that gave Father Delacy and the Mother Superior such pause. They'd learned long ago to recognize a wavering priest or nun, and Sister Constance showed all the signs. She was distracted.
She went through the motions of her tasks, without exhibiting any real enthusiasm for what she was doing.
She actually forgot parts of the mass.
She looked bored.
But most of all, there was the smell.
A peculiar smell that had been noticed by others, most significantly, Sister Marigold.
It seemed to always be on her fingers.
It had been thick and heavy in her room that night that Sister Marigold looked in on her.
"I know what it is, Father Delacy. She's been manipulating herself."
The good priest had been duly shocked.
"Sister Marigold. Do you know what you are suggesting?"
"I do. But I'm telling you, she hasn't been the same since she was captured with Sister Beatrice. I'm not utterly convinced that we've heard the full tale of that unfortunate meeting."
"Now, now, Sister Marigold, don't go letting yourself get carried away. It does none of us any good."
But nonetheless, the Father had noted her comments, passed them along to the Mother Superior and the two of them had taken a close interest in Sister Constance.
She was indeed acting strangely, although neither of them could have possibly have predicted precisely how strange.
For instance, if they had seen her at that very moment, walking through the garden, the same garden where she'd been in deep meditation and communion with the Lord when it had all happened.
She was once more in deep meditation, but this time, the focus was inward. She was dwelling more and more on herself.
It was a new and unique experience for the young nun, and she found that it was extremely pleasurable. Was this, she wondered, the sin of pride?
If so, let the sinners reign, she thought, because she was growing tired of self-effacing attitudes. She wanted to look out for herself. She wanted to experience life. Suddenly, she'd been made to realize that life, as she'd known it, had been a sham. It had been a conglomeration of half-truths and outright lies, and she had suffered for it.
But that still didn't mean that she had any useful tools at her disposal to deal with her new perceptions.
On the contrary, she was quite lost, when it came to charting anything resembling a course through the confusing field that she saw ahead of her. A mined field, where the slightest wrong step could prove disastrous.
She walked among the flowers and the shrubs and the gorgeous trees and foliage, and lost herself in silent thought.
The tingling was there where it always was. If she was to touch her clit, she knew that she would find it hard and stiff.
There was a constant feeling of wetness, cooling wetness between her legs where her juice was slowly oozing from between her lips, spreading all over her thighs and evaporating in the air.
She was in turmoil.
Suddenly, she let out a small scream.
One of the Dobermans appeared in the path in front of her.
She didn't trust them. Anything that looked that mean had to be dangerous, she told herself.
Besides, if they weren't dangerous, what was the point in having them at all?
But to her surprise, the dog started to wag his tail, as if he recognized her.
He walked towards her, and immediately started to sniff around her legs and ankles, trying to get a feel for her.
Then, she felt his soft wet nose start to move up her legs, felt it starting to move over her skin, actually putting his head under her robes.
"OH!" she said, "and quickly looked around to see if anyone could see her.
But she was in a secluded part of the garden, and she was the only one there. The trees and shrubs completely concealed her, and while she knew that she should pull back, get rid of the beast, she felt like she was strangely paralyzed. like she could only stand and watch it take place.
The dog's nose moved rapidly to her pussy.
Suddenly, she realized that perhaps this was her unconscious reason for giving up the use of underwear. It frightened her to consider the implications, but she couldn't deny that it certainly expedited things much more easily.
She spread her legs a little bit, and suddenly, the dog's tongue began to lick the lips of her cunt, constantly with a back and forth motion that was slowly driving her crazy.
Without even thinking about what she was doing, she slipped her hands under her robes and pulled her lips apart.
At once, the dog's tongue began to rub over her clitoris, creating an intense feeling inside her that went beyond anything she'd experienced yet.
It was driving her crazy, and she'd only been standing there for thirty seconds!
But as the dog's tongue continued to lick over her, she felt the by now familiar sensations rising inside her body, felt the powerful surge of energy, felt the sinking feeling in her guts, and felt as though the earth was opening up beneath her.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," she gasped softly to herself.
She didn't dare let herself think about what she was doing. She simply stood there, allowing the dog to work his tongue over her.
Deeper and deeper went the tingling sensations.
His tongue, both rough and amazingly soft at the same time, was charging her clit like she'd never been able to do herself so far.
It was a powerful sensation, one that was all the more powerful for the sense of taboo being violated. It was just because she'd been striking so many of them down so recently in her life that this didn't seem like very much of an escalation.
She felt the soft edge running up into her
But to her surprise, the dog started to wag his tail, as if he recognized her.
He walked towards her, and immediately started to sniff around her legs and ankles, trying to get a feel for her.
Then, she felt his soft wet nose start to move up her legs, felt it starting to move over her skin, actually putting his head under her robes.
"OH!" she said, "and quickly looked around to see if anyone could see her.
But she was in a secluded part of the garden, and she was the only one there. The trees and shrubs completely concealed her, and while she knew that she should pull back, get rid of the beast, she felt like she was strangely paralyzed. like she could only stand and watch it take place.
The dog's nose moved rapidly to her pussy.
Suddenly, she realized that perhaps this was her unconscious reason for giving up the use of underwear. It frightened her to consider the implications, but she couldn't deny that it certainly expedited things much more easily.
She spread her legs a little bit, and suddenly, the dog's tongue began to lick the lips of her cunt, constantly with a back and forth motion that was slowly driving her crazy.
Without even thinking about what she was doing, she slipped her hands under her robes and pulled her lips apart.
At once, the dog's tongue began to rub over her clitoris, creating an intense feeling inside her that went beyond anything she'd experienced yet.
It was driving her crazy, and she'd only been standing there for thirty seconds!
But as the dog's tongue continued to lick over her, she felt the by now familiar sensations rising inside her body, felt the powerful surge of energy, felt the sinking feeling in her guts, and felt as though the earth was opening up beneath her.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," she gasped softly to herself.
She didn't dare let herself think about what she was doing. She simply stood there, allowing the dog to work his tongue over her.
Deeper and deeper went the tingling sensations.
His tongue, both rough and amazingly soft at the same time, was charging her clit like she'd never been able to do herself so far.
It was a powerful sensation, one that was all the more powerful for the sense of taboo being violated. It was just because she'd been striking so many of them down so recently in her life that this didn't seem like very much of an escalation.
She felt the soft edge running up into her body like it was a velvet blade easing through her soft tissues.
More and more, as the juices of her body blended with those from the dog's mouth, she felt as though she was floating on a sea of sensation.
She stared down at the massive body, that thick, muscular neck, the beginnings of his head, disappearing beneath her raised robes.
Her body began to feel as though it was melting.
She felt her thigh muscles weakening, felt her breast starting to quiver and shake as each stroke of that massive tongue sent shivering ripples of electric sensation searing through her body.
Her nipples were tight against the cups of her bra.
She could feel them rubbing over the hard, sturdy material, could feel them growing more and more sensitized with each passing moment.
What if someone found her!
How could she ever explain it?
There was, obviously, no way. It was impossible.
She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder, trying to see if anyone else had entered the garden, but there was no one.
At least not yet.
She was shielded fairly well from view, no. matter which angle someone was to approach from, and she figured that she'd be able to hear them before they saw her.
It would be a simple matter to drop her robes, shoo the dog away, or just look as though she was petting him.
But ... oh my! she thought, as that tongue began to caress her clit ever more firmly now ... what if she allowed herself to become lost in the pleasurable sensations? What then?
She'd be unable to hear anyone approach.
She'd be totally unaware of....
Her thoughts, in spite of her efforts to maintain control, began to waver, to drift, to shift in and out of focus.
She felt like she was part of a soft-focus photograph ... as though her eyes were the camera lens and someone had smeared vaseline all over them.
Wasn't that what they used, the pornographic photographers? She'd read about them once, though goodness knows, she'd never actually looked at any such pictures herself ... although, now that she thought about it, this very scene would make a fine picture, would it not.
She was rapidly losing control.
She could feel the gathering sensations within her body, sensations that she recognized from her recent experiences ... she knew what was getting ready to happen, although it still frightened her, and seemed almost unnatural.
Orgasm. How strange a word. How bizarre a sensation.
A small flame that was burning constantly within her suddenly flared to a blazing heat, a bon fire of sensation raging inside the furnace of her cunt.
Somehow, through some medium of communication we've lost conscious awareness of, the dog sensed it. He seemed to draw energy straight from the contact with her soft heated tissues.
Faster and faster that sloppy tongue went slurping over her clit, her spread lips, the slimy wet membranes surrounding her open gaping hole.
Faster and faster ... and as she felt the sensations gathering together, building for their final, urgent release, she bowled her legs just a little, lowering her body, pressing down into the dog's mouth and constantly moving tongue.
The increase in pressure started to drive her crazy.
She felt a long, low moan starting to build inside her throat.
The muscles in her legs were growing weaker, she felt a constant trembling shake her body, and she realized, to her surprise once more, that she was on the verge of completely losing control.
Was it possible to do the Lord's work when one's mind was so cluttered with the pleasures and sensations of one's own body?
She understood at last the implications of that question.
The answer, of course, was no.
She no longer thought of the Lord's work.
She no longer thought of the church.
Nor did the stern image of Father Delacy cross her mind.
She had no conscious awareness of the fact that the robes she raised up to her waist were the robes of a nun, that she was violating not only a sacred oath, but she was also violating a natural taboo.
None of that seemed to occur to her.
She felt only the soft, insistent surface of that large pink tongue, so hot and wet, as hot and wet as the cunt membranes that it was so eagerly slurping over again and again.
Did the animal have no mechanism to tell it to tire of its activity?
Would it simply stand there, licking over her body for as long as she permitted it?
It was beginning to look that way.
She could just stand there in the garden, and allow herself to be transported up, up, up, up ... away, away from all this, from the pain, the denial, the suffering.
YOU MUST SUFFER, the holy Mother had told her.
YOU ARE CAUSING US CONCERN Father Delacy had hinted.
What would they say now?
What if they could see her? Would they understand? Would they know how delicious that tongue felt, how much she'd needed it ... how much of a need in general she was developing?
The denial was always focused between the legs. She realized that now. Many things were falling into place for her as her body steadily, inexorably built towards yet another orgasm.
The denial was actually nothing more than a way of saying, you are less than human. Well, she didn't think she was ready to publicly proclaim it, but nonetheless, she knew that she'd reclaimed a vital part of herself. And if it took this dog to make it real for her ... so be it.
What tenacity, she thought, as the tongue continued to slurp over her cunt. She could feel the pressure from it spreading apart her lips and forcing itself up inside her, even to opening the rim of her dark steaming hole and pushing up into it.
She started to moan.
She felt the pit opening up inside herself, felt as though she was teetering on the edge, and then, she began to lose her balance. It hit her.
She fell, headlong into the abyss, spinning madly into the depths of her own body, unable to grasp onto anything, lacking all supports or reference points.
There was only the blinding white light of sensation filling her brain, a searing blast of energy that obliterated everything in its path.
Her muscles went totally rigid, and she sucked in a breath of air, holding it, feeling it build the pressure in her lungs, and, consequently, all throughout her body.
She was almost unable to feel any friction from the animal's tongue now, so wet had she become.
There was, perhaps, an increase in the salt from her body as she became more and more aroused, because as she reached the peak of her orgasmic fury, feeling psychic explosions detonating all through her brain, that wild, delirious tongue actually started to stroke her cunt faster, with greater urgency.
My God, she thought, the animal's enjoying this! It knows what it's doing!
For some reason, that revelation struck her as humorous. The notion that her body could somehow be doing to the dog what his tongue was doing to her cunt seemed to be a perverse joke on nature ... on the entire universe.
She felt like a fugitive, an outlaw ... and if she was discovered, she'd be an outcast.
But she couldn't help herself.
The power of her cunt was overwhelming, and now, as the first waves of orgasm were subsiding, instead of a relaxing throughout her body, she felt instead a renewal of the tension. She felt the flame hold its heat between her legs, felt all her energies gathering for a renewed burst, a second explosion that threatened to exceed the first in power.
She looked around the garden again.
Still there was no one else. A quick glance at her watch told her the reason.
Evening vespers!
She was missing the evening prayer service! Well, she thought, so what? This was more important.
The thought simply came to her, as naturally and easily as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world to think.
This was more important!
She hadn't had a chance to analyze herself, or her situation, but the moment she was able to think that without any difficulties, she was, effectively, beyond hope of redemption ... at least as far as her former life was concerned.
She trembled with nervous energy.
She looked about one last time, and then, adjusting her robes properly, so as to keep her naked skin from coming into contact with the ground, she pushed herself into the nearby bushes, settled her soft, firm buttocks onto the green grass, pulled the front of her robes up to her waist once more and spread her legs.
The big dog simply sat there watching, his head cocked first to one side, and then to the other.
"Come on, boy," she whispered. The dog hesitated.
"Come on," she whispered again, more urgently.
He pawed at the ground, and let out a short whine.
She snapped her fingers.
"Come on," she whispered again, as loudly as a whisper would permit her.
Still the dog seemed to be held back.
Either that, or it was convinced she was playing some kind of game.
Damn! she thought. "Will you come here, you stupid brute!" she suddenly said, The dog's ears fell and he quickly lay down and covered his face with his paws.
"Please, please, doggie," she said near desperation now, "this is not a movie. Look at me! Look at the position you've got me in. You can't just abandon me now!"
She then realized that she was holding a one-sided conversation with a dog, felt extremely foolish, and was about to stand up, when the dog suddenly whined again, moved forward and pushed her back down onto the ground.
"Oh, I see. You still think we're playing a game, don't you. You stupid beast. Why can't you cooperate!"
She once more tried to stand up, but again the dog playfully placed his paws on her and pushed her back onto the ground. He let out a whine, eagerly spilling into a bark.
"Shhhhhh!" she said. "You'll bring someone."
Then, she realized that in the position she'd fallen into, her legs were open.
Taking a firm hold on the dog's collar, she started to pull his head toward her.
He resisted, beginning to growl.
But she was determined, and managed, before he broke free, to bury his nose in her pussy once more.
"See! You liked it once. It hasn't changed. What's the matter with you!"
The dog sat back on his haunches again, cocked his head, and started to playfully whine once more.
"You're terminally cute, you know that? You should be shot!"
Suddenly, without warning, the thing moved forward again, this time going straight for her cunt.
"OH!" she gasped, but then, as that tongue struck her still throbbing clit, she softened it to a long, low "ohhhhhhhh ... " and settled back, more able to relax in this position than when she had been standing up.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, my God, my God, my God, oh yes, you poor dumb animal, you don't have any idea what you're doing to me, do you. Well, trust me, it's divine. Something this good could only have been made in heaven. You know, they've been lying to me all these years. Yes they have. But now I can see through them, and I know them for what they're doing, and I know that this isn't wrong and oh my God you've got a good tongue. It's so strong and soft, yet firm. And it's so wet. Oh I love it, I love it, I love it."
She was moaning, ever more loudly, and then, the backed-up sensations that were left over from her first orgasm came spilling to the surface, wildly, spilling all over her mind even as her juices were spilling over her thighs and the outer lips of her cunt.
"Oh yes. Oh yes. Oh yes."
She felt herself rolling her hips to increase the stimulation to her cunt.
She leaned further back, arching her back to bring her pelvis into more direct contact with the dog's tongue.
It sent her over the top.
Fortunately, she was able to maintain enough control that she kept the impulse to shriek buried in her throat.
But the dog kept licking, faster and faster, as though thirsty, and drinking from an endless fountain.
"Oh yes, yes, good dog, good God, good dog, good God!"
Wave after wave rolled over her.
She put her hands down between her legs and spread her lips apart, wide as they could be spread, trying to make sure that the tongue struck every minute portion of the surface of her cunt.
She felt the waves of orgasm finally begin to subside, and thought, at last, a bit of release.
But no, just as soon as that was finished, another began to build.
It mounted to its peak much more rapidly than the first two, and then, even before that one could subside, another struck her full force, and another and another, all of them rolling over her like machinery, tearing the fiber of her body, shredding her brain, turning her nerves into sizzled, fried, charred threads.
The dog kept his tongue at her cunt, and she again had the feeling that the animal would have stood there and kept licking at her pussy for just as long as she permitted it.
But finally, from sheer exhaustion, she had to force his head away.
As she did so, the sharp, pointed tip of one of his teeth scraped over her clit.
The burst of sensation was so intense that she could no longer contain herself.
"OH MY GOD!! ! " she screamed.
Immediately, she regretted her lapse, pushed the dog from between her legs and quickly stood up.
"HELLO!" called a voice from the other end of the garden.
Adrenalin shot through her blood, slamming into every single muscle, charging her with an intensity that she hadn't even managed to maintain in the midst of her orgasmic fury.
This, however, was simply blind panic.
"Go!" she whispered to the dog.
The dumb brute simply stood there, wagging his tail, trying to nuzzle back into her crotch again.
"Stop that!" she hissed.
He still wouldn't let her alone, so she slapped him on the nose.
That is something one should never do to a Doberman, no matter what the relationship, as Sister Constance learned at once.
His upper lip rose in an ugly snarl, and with a menacing growl rumbling in his throat, the dog quickly backed her against a tree.
"HELP!" she cried, and quickly heard the running of footsteps
"What's the problem! Who is it-My God!"
She looked around and saw that it was the same man she'd met the other night, the man she assumed to be the trainer of the dogs.
"Jumping Jesus, Sister, pardon my language, but I'm sorry about this. HEY! Fritz! Git! Go on! Get out of here!"
He clapped his hands and pointed back down the path and the dog quickly lowered his ears, tucked the short stub of a tail between his legs and sulked off.
The man turned to Sister Constance and said, "Sister, I don't know how that could have happened. I swear to you, that's not supposed to have happened at all. They've been acclimated to all the nuns, and they know your appearance anyway. You've got my sincere apologies. I'll speak to the Father about this. It might be that the animal will have to be disposed of. Or at least sent somewhere else, to another place where they just need a good watchdog."
"I see. Well listen, there's no need to speak to Father Delacy. Honestly, I'll mention this myself, but I don't think there's any problem. Really, you don't need to worry yourself. There was no harm done. See. I'm not hurt."
"Yeah, but Sister, those dogs are here to protect you all. They ain't supposed to threaten you."
"Honestly, I'm all right. There was no damage done! Now, would you promise me not to talk to Father Delacy!"
"Hey, sure, sure, Sister. Whatever you say. No problem."
The man suddenly regarded her with suspicion, as if not sure whether or not she could be trusted.
He backed off from her a little bit.
"Listen, I have to be getting back to work, so, uh, you take care of yourself, uh, Sister...."
He gave her a nervous smile and disappeared down one of the garden paths.
She felt as if she was melting inside her body.
The tension finally broke, and she felt like all she wanted to do was to collapse and relax.
But at least no one had discovered her. She had managed to hide her sin and her shame.
Except, of course, from the Lord. He would be able to see everything she did. She hoped that they hadn't been lying as well when they'd told her that he was a forgiving God. Somehow, she was starting to have her doubts.
And then, just as thoughts of the Lord above were nagging at her consciousness, she heard a voice. It came from above her. It sounded, at first, as if it was indeed God speaking to her from the heavens.
"Sister, you looked pretty exciting doing that."
She jerked around, could see no one, and then, once more, heard the voice.
"Hey, Sister. I'm up here."
It was coming from directly above her. She looked up, and in the fading light of evening could see nothing.
But then the figure moved. And she saw him. Hidden in the large oak tree that was directly above her.
It was the young man who'd assaulted her.
He had seen everything!
CHAPTER FOUR
She felt herself seized by a stab of blind panic.
"What do you want? What are you doing here?"
"Hey, Sister, relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I swear it."
"How did you ... ? "
"How did I get in? The same way as before. This tree is all tangled up with that tree and that one's all tangled up with that other big oak tree over there by the wall. We just hopped up onto one of the branches and climbed through. It's easy. I gotta tell you, I think you figured out a better use for that dog than the one they bought him for. There isn't a dog around that would be able to stop someone from getting in here if they really wanted to."
Her garden! Her beloved garden was the route they'd taken. She'd been so certain that she was communicating with God as she walked here, and yet, if God was truly to be found among the plants and trees and flowers, would he have allowed this to happen? She couldn't imagine it.
"Why don't you leave me alone."
"I couldn't. I had to come back and see you."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to know why you lied about me."
"I-I...."
She didn't know how to answer, so instead, she asked, "How did you know you'd find me here."
"Because I figured that eventually I'd find you. You were out here the night we came in, and I'd seen you here before that."
"You'd seen me before?"
"Sure. Old Luis and me, we'd come up here lots of times and watch the Sisters. We saw Father Delacy stick it to one of them out here once."
"What!"
"Sure! What did you think, you were the only one that-likes it?"
She looked around, as fearful of being discovered talking to this boy as she was of being found with that dog.
"I must go."
"Aw come on, Sister. I want to talk to you some more."
"We will. We will."
"When?"
"When can you come back?"
"You name a time. I'll be here."
She thought quickly. Images were pouring fast and furiously through her brain now, so much so that she was losing her ability to think at all.
"I don't know ... tonight. Later tonight."
"What time?"
"Ten o'clock."
"All right, Sister. I'll be here." She turned, and nearly ran for the door to the chapel.
The evening prayers were already over by the time she got back, and so she went straight for the dining hall.
She ate alone, and in silence.
There was seldom any conversation during meals anyway. Theirs was a frugal existence there at the convent, and what small amount of food they had available to them was considered important enough that they would not let anything interrupt them in their consumption of it.
But later, as she was walking back to her quarters, she heard a voice, coming from behind.
"Sister Constance."
She turned. "Yes, Father Delacy."
"I was wondering if I might have a word with you."
"Certainly, Father."
She thought of what the boy had said about seeing him. Who had it been? Which of the Sisters had broken her vows with the priest?
She tried to imagine herself breaking her own vows, with the priest, and suddenly understood that it was not only possible, but that none of them ever believed their lies. It was part of a grand and glorious game. As if sinning and lying about it had become the same as not sinning at all.
Well, she was already becoming comfortable with the game, and would become more so.
They went to his office, and as she sat, he produced a bottle of whiskey, to her surprise.
"Might I offer you a drink. Sister Constance?"
"Father! No! Certainly not."
"Well then, you'll not be objecting if I have one, will you?"
"No," she said primly, thinking it was the reaction that he was searching for in the first place.
He sloshed some of the golden liquid into a glass, downed it in a single gulp, and then filled it a second time.
This glass he drank much more slowly.
"Sister, I was wondering if you could explain to me why it was that you requested Mr. MacArdle to say nothing of the problem you had with the dog."
"Oh! Well ... it seemed like such a trivial matter.. ! didn't want to be any more of a burden on you than I already am, Father."
"Ah. So that was your thinking, was it? Well, I'll tell you this, I'm deeply touched, that you'd be so considerate of me, but let's speak frankly, Sister, could we do that?"
"Certainly, Father."
"I needn't inform you another time that there was a hideous violation of the integrity of this establishment. I'm sure the memory of that violation will long linger in your thoughts."
"I fear you may be right, Father."
"You must surely understand then, that those animals were acquired to prevent a repetition of such an incident. If they turn instead on our own kind, where will we be? At the mercy of our own solutions, which is certainly no solution."
She said nothing.
"So, I fear I must ask, why were you so reluctant to speak of the incident?"
"I told you, Father, I was afraid that I'd become too much of a burden on you already, and that I would-"
"Please, please, Sister Constance, there's no reason to continue this line of reasoning. It serves none of us well."
She fell silent.
"I was speaking to the police Lieutenant."
"Oh?"
She almost forgotten about him.
"He has some difficulties still, and he was wondering if he might speak to you some more. I, of course, informed him that you'd already endured a great deal of abuse and humiliation, and that he must consider the special lifestyle that we lead here. I put him off, in other words, Sister Constance, with a promise that I would talk to you myself, and see if I might get some information from you."
"Certainly, Father, whatever you say."
"Let me ask again ... you were attacked the moment you entered the building, is that not correct?"
"That is correct, Father."
"Good. Now, you were tied up at once, and then you were led to the chapel, away from where the assault on Sister Beatrice was taking place."
She nodded her head.
"You saw her on the floor, however, did you not?"
"Yes. She had her robes on when I saw her, and she was on her stomach."
"Good. Now, once in the chapel, you had your robes cut off of your body, but you were not, in fact, assaulted any further. Is that so?"
'That is so, Father."
He stood up.
"I have difficulties, Sister Constance. I worry. I'm suspicious."
"Am I to blame for this?"
"To an extent, yes. You are."
"Please, tell me, Father, that I might ease your burden."
"Child," he said at last, "tell me ... have you been lying to us?"
"Lying, Father? About what?"
"About ... about many things. About the circumstances of that day for one."
"No Father, I have not lied."
No more than you've lied to me, she thought to herself with grim satisfaction. He looked pained.
"Sister Constance, I have to ask, because if I don't, the police detective will ask, and I fear it would be far more humiliating from him than from me."
"Whatever are you talking about. Father?"
"Tell me this, Sister Constance, when you at last came back out from the chapel, was Sister Beatrice in the same spot?"
"Oh yes. My memory is quite clear on that point. Everything that had been done to her had been done in the same spot. She was lying on her back when I came back out, however, the poor dear...."
Sister Constance thought back to the horror of that moment, when she'd first looked down at Sister Beatrice's scarred body, and the shivers that rippled through her were genuine.
"Well then child, here is the difficulty, and I must say, it is more of a problem for me than it is for the Lieutenent. There was evidence that ... another sexual act took place there."
"Where? I don't understand."
"In the hallway where you were first attacked. There was evidence that there had been another sexual act ... consummated."
He seemed genuinely embarrassed to be speaking of such things with her. She, for her own part, acted properly subdued, but inside, she was laughing at his discomfort.
"I'm afraid I still don't understand, Father. Are you suggesting something? Are you suggesting something that perhaps you'd do better to spell out explicitly?"
"Yes ... I suppose I am. I'm suggesting, Sister Constance, that somehow, someway, you've strayed from the perfect path."
She frowned. "I hate to keep being so dense and thick, Father, but I really fail to understand. What is it that you are speaking of?"
"Sister Constance, were you raped along with Sister Beatrice? And are you covering it up, for any reason?"
She allowed a proper moment of silence to open between them, and then, she burst into loud peals of laughter.
He frowned. He HARUMPHED. He frowned some more."
"I'm sorry, Father," she said, still unable to control her laughter, "but it just sounded so hilarious when I heard it spelled out. The answer, of course, is no. N-O. No. I must say, I'm shocked that you could possibly come up with such a bizarre theory."
"Indeed."
"Father, please. Do not continue this. I know that I have been acting strangely of late, and I fear that I was affected by poor Sister
Beatrice's misfortune far more than I'd like to admit, but please, I'll be better. I'm praying fervently every night that the Lord will heal the scars on my mind, even as I pray for Sister Beatrice to be healed as well."
He was staring hard at her.
She realized that he didn't believe a word of it. He was just giving her his cold silent stare, but he wasn't about to fall for the story. He knew. Of course he knew. If they ever captured those boys, everyone would know. Sister Beatrice's attacker certainly wasn't going to let the other one get off. He'd tell, if he got caught.
But to her amazement, the priest stood up, offered her his hand, and said, "I understand, my child. I know how difficult this has been, and I would certainly hoe that if you feel the slightest need to discuss anything with me, you won't hesitate, no matter what time of night."
"I thank you, Father. I am grateful."
The fact that he'd subtly reinforced the idea of coming to him in the night wasn't lost on her at all.
She said nothing about it, but she did leave his office in some confusion.
What was his angle, she wondered. What had he been suggesting to her? It was all so confusing.
Suddenly, she heard his voice calling to her.
She turned around and he was standing in the door to his office, staring after her.
"Yes, Father?" she said as she walked back to him.
"I was noticing ... there seems to be a large patch of grass stains on the back of your robes."
"Oh! No, don't tell me. I worried about that."
He said nothing, just waited for her to comment.
Think, think, she told herself. Please think. "I was relaxing in the garden, Father."
"Yes. Would that be the same time that you had the unfortunate incident with the dog?"
"Yes. No. I mean ... yes, but before. Not the same time. I mean...."
His face grew more and more clouded with suspicion.
"What DO you mean, child?"
"I don't understand what you're questioning me like this for, Father," she replied, suddenly breaking into tears.
"Now, now, please, let's have none of that. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Of course you did! Why else would you be implying such horrifying things?"
"What things, child? I've implied nothing."
"Of course you did! You implied that I allow myself to be raped and then said nothing about it ... I have no idea what you're implying by that and quite frankly, I would prefer not to think about it. And now...."
She looked at him with eyes growing ever wider with shock and horror, "An now, I don't know what you're suggesting, but I am growing weary of it. I truly am."
He gave her a patient smile.
"Child, you've had a bad time. Go to your quarters and rest. Just rest. You'll be better soon."
"There's nothing wrong with me!" she yelled, and then immediately realized that she sounded as though there was indeed something wrong with her.
"Please, child, calm yourself. No one is served, least of all the Lord, by such outbursts of emotion. The Lord's work is the work of the mind. There can be no room for the fluctuations of the emotions when his requirements are at stake. Now, go to your room, and rest."
He turned, dismissing her, without another word.
She walked back to her room, but there was no gloom in her. She'd learned an important fact tonight, and she still needed to put it together more fully. But it seemed to her that Father Delacy had implied a certain amount of official tolerance where deviations in the norm were concerned. How much tolerance ... she couldn't say. It did seem that he would have been aghast had he discovered her with that dog, but nonetheless, could he have been implying anything else, with that reference to the grass stains?
She returned to her room, removed her robes and saw, to her horror, two perfectly shaped imprints of her buttocks. It was obvious, from just looking at them, that they hadn't been made by her just sitting calmly on the ground. There was movement etched into that stain, passionate movement.
She felt embarrassed just looking at it, recalling the scene that had produced it.
Suddenly, there was a flash of heat between her legs again.
No, she thought, no, not so soon.
Would she be doomed forever hence to be at the mercy of that minute bud of nerves between her legs? Was that to be her fate?
It seemed to her that she would have to, at some point, regain control over her body. But was there any way, short of returning to total abstinence, that she could keep things under control?
She doubted it.
Pandora's box had been broken open, and the demons and furies were now loose, and there was no way to ever fully gather them back again.
She looked at her clock.
Two and a half hours until she was to sneak back down to the garden to meet with the young man in the tree. That act alone, one that branded her as irreparably beyond the pale, seemed in light of her most recent excesses to be mild. Tame. A simple matter of seeing what the boy wanted.
She lay on her bed, and while she had intended only to relax, to calm down, she rapidly felt herself drift off to sleep.
She tried to hold herself back, not wanting to drift away, not yet, but it was hopeless. Her mind was exhausted, as was her body, and she needed sleep more than anything, if she was to face the challenges that were looming.
The room began to shiver, and to quiver and shake, and as she sank down, down, down into the depths of her dream world, the confines of the room opened out, revealing a vast empty plain she'd never seen before.
And then she was in a comforting place, a garden ... not the chapel garden, but a vast, limitless garden. Perhaps the first garden, before there was sin.
And she looked around, and she saw there animals of all description.
And it was beautiful, and the feeling that came to her was one of peace and tranquility, and there was no violence, nor was there fear.
And then, she sensed the approach of something ... something large, ponderously heavy ... yet at the same time, graceful....
And she turned, and there she saw the same dog that she had encountered in the garden, only now he was even larger, more formidable, and his eyes were like glowing chips of coal set in his black face, and his long slender snout was pointed directly at her.
She wore no robes, no clothing of any sort. She suddenly was aware of the fact that her breasts were exposed, that her pussy was naked against the open air, and while it was warm, she felt strangely unprotected, she felt exposed, vulnerable, she felt as if danger threatened.
Was it the dog?
No ... she could not sense it from him. He was friendly, as she'd remembered, playful.
But far more insistent than he'd been earlier.
His snout went directly for the slit between her legs, only now, instead of fearing his attack, she willingly placed her hands between her legs and opened her lips, exposing the soft wet inner membranes to his sensitive nostrils.
His nose was wet and cold as he probed with it up through her wet slit.
She felt it moving up and down through her tissues, felt it pressing against her clit, felt it sticking right up into her hole.
She heard herself starting to moan, felt her hips rolling, felt herself looking down at the beast, encouraging him, stroking his massive head, speaking soothing words to him.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, my wild beast, yes, that's delicious. I love it. Truly I love it. And I do so need it."
Then, again, that tongue. But now, safe in the garden of her dreams, she felt no fear of discovery. There was no one to bother her. She felt like she was the original woman. Where the original man had gotten off to, she couldn't say, but she felt safe, no matter what. There was no need to restrain herself. She was free to coax from the beast whatever she could.
"Yes," she heard herself say, as the animal's tongue slid between her pussy lips. He was amazingly strong and was able to press aside her soft membranes with no difficulty whatsoever.
She fell to the ground, on her stomach, raising her ass high in the air.
As she spread her thighs, she felt her buttocks opening. She felt her ass-hole becoming exposed, felt the dog's tongue slurping over that tight, puckered brown ring of muscle.
The sensations were delicious.
She wanted them to continue forever.
He continued to lick, moving his tongue back down to her slit again, pressing it up into her hole....
She felt her body shudder.
Moving her finger to her clit, she started to press against her clit, while his tongue kept the rest of her cunt aroused.
It was like a surge of electricity. As if her cunt had been struck by lightning. She started to press against her clit with greater pressure now, stroking the entire length of the shaft, pressing it from the tip that hovered right above her oozing hole, all the way to the bottom of the shaft that disappeared beneath the rest of her pink membranes.
She could feel a small sheath of flesh that seemed to cover the actual nerve endings like a hood, and as she pressed against it, pushing it back, the sensations increased ten-fold.
She started to scream.
She felt the dog's tongue, racing in and out of her hole, slurping up and down through her slit, back and forth, in and out, up and down, almost as though he'd been trained for that very act.
Harder and harder she pressed her clit. Faster and faster went the dog's tongue.
She began to work the tips of her fingers down to the rim of her hole as she stroked her clit, pressing around the outside, letting them drift into her hole a little bit, stretching herself....
She felt the tongue licking over everything in sight, over her fingers, over her cunt membranes, and each time it did, her level of arousal shot up another two or three notches.
She felt herself growing more and more heated.
She felt herself starting to need more and more stimulation. She wanted more ... she wanted....
Then, she felt it.
She felt the hind legs of the dog starting to squeeze around her hips.
Oh no! she thought to herself.
Oh my GOD!! ! How can I stop. Stop. Stop!
But there was no stopping him. He began to mount her, forcing his way onto her body, and she realized as he continued to do so that there was no desire in her to stop him, or to even struggle.
She felt the dog starting to squeeze her hips, the sides of her waist.
She remembered when, as a little girl, she'd watched two dogs copulating in the street, and even then, she'd wondered, with a fiery curiosity, how would it feel? What could it be like to have something like that up inside you ... ?
She slid her hand between her legs, and felt the hideously enlarged member between the dog's haunches moving closer to her ... closer, closer....
Then, it went in.
She could feel it sliding past her lips, could feel it penetrating her membranes, and while it wasn't as thick or as long as the boy's had been, it nonetheless made itself felt.
She felt it against the sides of her hole, felt it pressing into the rim of her cunt, moving against the elastic walls, faster and faster and faster....
She woke up, suddenly, in a sweat.
She was breathing hard.
Had she made any noise? She couldn't know, or remember, but she did know what she'd been dreaming.
The reality of it remained with her.
She could feel that cock in her cunt.
She knew that's what they were called now, and she had no difficulties thinking about them.
It had been ... delicious. She couldn't believe that she could recall a dream like that and feel nothing but arousal, but that was certainly the case.
She wanted more. She needed more.
She looked at the clock, saw that it was nine fifteen, and felt small tremors of anticipation start up inside her body. She wanted to see him. And she wanted to see him soon.
But first, there was that dream that she had to clear out of her mind. It had been such a powerful, life-like image....
She had actually felt it sliding into her, and she could feel it still.
Her pussy was wet, as a quick check with her fingertips revealed.
Juice was all over her outer cunt lips, and her pubic hair was soaking wet.
She immediately plunged two fingers deeply into her body.
She had to bite her lip to keep from calling out in agonized pleasure.
It was so intense, and still so unfamiliar, that each time she felt her body becoming aroused, it was like experiencing it for the first time.
She dug into herself as far as she could, burying her fingers up to the knuckles.
Then, she added a third into her cunt, and the once tight hole at the front began to stretch, just a little bit, but more than enough to add to the overall sensation that was tearing through her.
She felt the energy mounting, higher and higher, the throbbing pulse of her heart seeming with every beat to simply add to the pressure in her clit.
And then, she came. Her body exploded, she felt herself wanting more than anything to scream, yet she held back, enduring the waves of sensation in tortured silence.
And all the while, filling the mysterious void of her new found sexuality, a bizarre combination of images filled her mind ... long, thick human cocks, and the short, stubby, flaming red cocks of the Doberman....
All she knew was that her body had been liberated. It had been freed of its chains, and now ... now....
Her thoughts dissolved as yet another wave of orgasm rolled over her, and consumed her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sister Constance carefully made her way through the dark shadows of the convent, taking great pains that no one would see her, even if they did happen upon her.
For one thing, in shocking lapse of standard procedure, she had removed her robes, and replaced them with civilian clothes ... well, clothes that were nearly civilian. Dark shirt, dark pants. The operative word being dark.
She moved from shadow to shadow, from doorway to stairwell, always seeking out the protection of whatever was available.
She at last made her way to the garden, although it was by a different entryway than she was accustomed to using.
She stepped out into the night air.
The sky was cloudy, for which she was grateful.
No moon, no stars. Only darkness. Did she secretly believe that she'd entered an irrevocable state of sin, and that she would be forever punished fo her transgressions? That the only state that was appropriate fo her now was darkness and shadows?
Perhaps.
The problem with such a thesis was, it didn't really matter to her if she had. She refused to allow herself to be forced into a feeling of guilt over something as fundamental as this, a feeling that sprang from her own body, one that she couldn't have ignored, even if she had made a sincere effort
The garden was almost impenetrable. She looked ahead, but could only make out the faintest outlines of the hedges, bushes and shrubs and flowers along the pathways. The paths themselves were simply part of the grand network of shadows that covered the ground.
She made her way, nonetheless, without difficulty, to the tree. She waited.
What if he didn't show up?
What if she was discovered out here, wearing these clothes. While there was nothing specifically wrong with what she was doing, it was irregular, and thus would require an explanation ... one that she was unwilling to even attempt.
Then, she heard it.
"Psssst!"
"Hello ... " she whispered. "Psssst!! ! Sister."
"Yes," she whispered, as loudly as she dared. "Where are you?"
"Right over your head," said the voice. She recognized it as the voice of the boy who had raped her.
Rape!
Suddenly, she paused. Was she in control of herself here? Did she really have any idea what she was doing? Rape! The boy had raped her! He'd forced himself on her. He'd violated her body. And now, she was willingly going to him. It made no sense.
Nothing did. She was becoming more and more convinced of that Nothing made sense. She was making a drastic leap, from a stalwart faith to the kind of relentless nihilism that seemed to grip her now, but she could see no other outlet for her.
"Are you alone," she asked. "Sure. Why don't you come up."
"What?"
"Sure. You don't expect me to come down, do you. That dog wouldn't be nearly as nice to me as he was to you, you understand, I'm sure."
"How ... how do I get up there."
"Come here. I'll help you up."
"Where."
"Over here. By the trunk."
She walked over and could just make out his form above her, sitting in the pocket of the first major division of the tree trunk.
He held his hand down and she grabbed hold of it
"Oh my," she said, frightened, as he started to pull her up.
"Come on, Sister, you gotta help. Get a foot hold."
She tried, but it proved more difficult than she would have thought.
He was overlooking the fact that she'd never done something like this before in her life, and she wasn't a fast learner as it was.
He pulled harder, and then said "Give me your other hand too."
She held it up to him, felt him grasp it and then, as he anchored himself in the pocket, he began to haul her in like she was a large fish he'd caught.
"There you go," he said when she'd finally managed to gain her balance on the branch.
"Goodness," she said, looking about, seeing nothing but a faintly paler shade of black through the breaks in the leaves.
He said nothing.
"Well," said Sister Constance, feeling very silly and very awkward, "here we are."
He still said nothing.
"Don't you have anything to say?"
He chuckled. "Not against something as stupid as that."
She felt a flush rising in her cheeks.
"You tell me then, why did you want to come back here to talk to me?"
"What are you trying to do, telling me when to talk and all. I'll tell you. You got that. I go to the Father, tell him what I saw you doing today, you're all washed up."
"That's a crock, and you know it. You go near the Father and I'll blow the whistle on you so fast, you won't even have time to pack your toothbrush before they lock you up."
He said nothing.
"Now, you tell me, why did you want to talk to me?"
"Why didn't you turn me in?"
She suddenly realized that she was afraid to tell him the answer.
"Come on, Sister, I read the papers. You lied for me. How come?"
"I ... I don't know."
"Ha! I'll just bet you don't know. I think I might know, Sister. Yeah. I think I might know. I really do."
"And why is that?" she asked, scarcely daring to breathe.
"I saw you today. I saw what you were doing. Anyone who would let a dog do that to them is really horny, you know what I'm saying? I saw you. And I remember how you were that day with me too. You wanted it. You loved it. I know you did. It was the first time you'd ever done it, and you loved it. Didn't you?"
She was afraid to let herself answer.
"Come on, admit it. You loved it. And that's why you're back here tonight. "Come on, Sister, give me a fucking break! It's ten thirty at night, you're sitting in an oak tree with someone who raped you, and you're doing it freely. No one forced you to come back here."
"I wanted to find out what you'd seen."
"That's a load of shit, Sister. You already know what I seen. I seen it all. Everything. I know all about you. I know what you like, and I probably know it better than you do."
"Please stop."
"Stop what? What am I doing? I'm talking the truth, and you know it."
"You have to leave me alone. Won't you just leave me alone?"
"You don't mean that. You want me, don't you, Sister? You want to feel me again, up inside you."
"No, listen, you've got the wrong idea...."
He grabbed her by the arm.
"No, Sister. You've got the wrong idea. You're trying to play games with me. You can't do that. I won't let it happen."
"Please," she said, pulling back her arm. "You have to leave me alone."
"Why? How come I have to leave you alone?" he said, moving over to her, placing his hand on her breast.
"Stop that," she said, pushing it away.
"Hey now Sister, you're coming from about ten different directions at once. Now who do you think you're kidding her? Huh? You think I'm just some dumb kid you can play around with?"
"Listen to me. You have to leave me alone. You have to stop tempting me. I'm a nun. Please. Can't you understand that."
"I only understand what I know, and I know that you want me. You want me so bad you can taste it. Come on, Sister, get out of here. This isn't for you. You've got a body that needs a lot of attention. You've got a body that needs to be touched, and needs to be stroked, and needs to be played with."
She felt her pussy starting to tingle as she listened to his voice. He kept hammering home that same message, varying it a thousand different ways, but always, it was the same ' message. She needed him. She needed sex. She needed physical release.
And she knew it was true.
Then she felt him unbuttoning her blouse.
"No," she murmured, "no, you can't."
But she didn't try to stop him. Not with any serious effort.
Instead, she placed her hand on his wrist and held it there until he'd gotten all the way down to her waist.
When he started to pull her blouse out of her pants, she stopped him then.
She squeezed his wrist tightly, and then she pushed his hand away.
But he just slapped her aside, impatiently.
"Don't do that to me!"
"Don't treat me this way."
"Fuck you! Why'd you come back out here, if you didn't want to be treated this way?"
"Please. Please. Juan...."
"How'd you know my name!"
"I heard your friend use it ... that day." He was silent.
"You know his name too. Why wasn't it in the papers?"
"I suppose they're trying to keep it secret."
"What's going to happen to the other one?" he asked.
"She's badly shaken. She's very upset. She doesn't remember any of it, but her mind is badly hurt. She'll be a long time recovering."
"He's crazy. You know that. I wouldn't ever have done anything if I'd known it would lead to this. Honest. I thought we were only going to look for something we could lift and hock real fast."
"I know."
"How come you trust me."
"I don't know. There was a gentleness about you."
"I was right. You did like me. You want me still, don't you?"
She was silent a long time.
"Not here. Not in this tree."
"Then in your room"
"That is impossible and you know it!"
"Hardly. Come on, I'll show you."
CHAPTER SIX
Juan held out his hand in the darkness.
"Come on, take it. You're not going to fall," he whispered.
Sister Constance stood on the branch. She was waist-high to the edge of the roof and perhaps two to three feet away from it. She knew she was going to fall.
"Sister," said Juan, trying to be patient, "you won't fall. Believe me. I wouldn't lie to you.
Nonetheless, she was powerless to make the jump.
"Come on, give me your hand," he said. She reached up and grasped it. "Now the other one."
"But I'll fall."
"You won't fall. I promise you, you won't fall. If you fall, I'll catch you. You don't have to worry about anything except yelling. If you yell, we're in trouble. Whatever you do, don't yell."
She gingerly raised her other hand, and suddenly, the only thing that was keeping her perched on the branch was this boy and his two hands which she hoped were strong and sure.
"Okay," he said. "Now, remember, you gotta keep quiet. You make a single sound, you might as well hang it up. We both go down the tubes."
"I'll try."
"Good. Now, when I say so, you jump. I'm going to pull you up when you do. Don't flinch, and whatever you do, don't pull back, because you'll just throw me off balance and we'll both fall."
"All right, I'll try."
"No, Sister. This is not a situation where you can be happy with just trying. You can't just try. You have to do it. You have to know what's called for, and know you can do it."
"All right. I'll try."
"Oh, Sister."
"I'm sorry. Look, I'll try harder."
"All right. Just keep quiet. Don't say anything. All right? We're not going to try anything. We're just going to do it. Okay?"
"Got you."
She felt so frightened that she was afraid that she was going to wet her pants. Or was it that she was just so excited?
Whatever, she was trembling, and her legs felt like they wouldn't work properly and her stomach was fluttering and quivering.
"Are you holding tight?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"Okay, this is it. Ready, set, JUMP!"
She sprang upwards with her legs, sapping what strength was left in them.
The tension in her arms went very, very taut all at once and then, she felt herself being hauled up, up, up....
They were there.
She gasped deeply for breath, and heard Juan chuckling beside her.
"Hey, Sister, you out of shape or something?"
"No ... I don't think so, but I'm sure scared."
"That why you're gasping for breath?"
She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to grant him any status beyond what he obviously was ... a demented obsession she had no control over.
Taking his hand, she said, "All right, we're up here. Now, how are we going to get down to my room."
"Easy," he said, "just show me where it is."
She glanced over the area and located the window to her room.
"The window's open, right?"
"Yes."
"No sweat."
She led him to the edge of the roof directly above her room window. "Now, get ready, Sister, because you're going over the edge again."
"Oh my ... " she said in dismay.
"Look at it this way, you won't have to go sneaking back to your room now."
"Hmmmm ... somehow, that doesn't quite do it for me, Juan."
"You're just a scardey cat, aren't you?"
She frowned. This familiar sounding banter was bothering her now. Again, she felt a reluctance to grant him any status beyond that of a sexual re lease ... and since she wasn't certain at all of her sexual identity, if indeed she even had one, she would have preferred he just keep his mouth shut.
He took her by the hands and said, "I'm going to lower you over the side, Sister, and you're going to wind up about two feet above the ledge. Don't get scared, and whatever you do, when I drop you, don't go losing your balance. All right?"
She held her breath, bit her bottom lip and nodded.
"Okay, here we go," he said, jovially, and she was prompted only to give him a hurried "SHhhh!! " before crouching, grabbing his hands and sliding down over the edge of the roof.
She felt herself dropping further and further, felt her feet dangling in space, felt for a second that she was floating over a bottomless pit....
"Ready?" he whispered.
She tried to say something, but nothing would come out of her throat, so instead she just gave him two quick squeezes with her hands.
And then she was falling.
It lasted perhaps a second, but that one second was the most frightening of her life.
She 'knew' that she was going to hit the ledge, bounce once and tumble off the side to certain death below.
But instead, she merely dropped to her knees, feeling her heart pound like a bass drum in her breast, and realized finally that she was still alive and that she wasn't going to fall
"Here I come," he called, and then he was at her side.
"You do that so sure-footed."
"I'm an urban mountain-goat," he said, kidding her. "It comes from all the breaking-and-entering raps I've dodged. You have to be quick. You follow?"
She didn't doubt for a second that he was telling the truth.
'That your window?"
She nodded.
"This is it. Sister. This is the last step. You ready?"
She nodded, and then, he turned to look at her.
"How come you're doing this?"
"Do me a favor, all right. Just keep quiet. Please. I'm doing it. What do you care?"
Her words seemed to surprise him.
Their eyes met, holding for a moment in a mental struggle that was stronger than she'd have expected, but then he looked away.
It was with some measure of personal satisfaction that she swung her leg over the window ledge and tumbled at last into her room.
Juan quickly followed. "Pull the shades," he said. Again she got annoyed.
"Don't be telling me what I should do. I know this place. You could be in serious trouble, you understand that don't you?"
He stared at her, wordlessly examining the contours of her face. Was she serious? Did she know what she was talking about?
He appeared to decide that she did indeed, and that she was serious, because he turned and pulled the shades himself.
"You know," said Sister Constance, "all I have to do, once I get out of these clothes and get into bed, is to scream. One scream, and you'd be a gonner."
"Yeah. You're right. That's all it would take. But you know something? You ain't going to do nothing like that. No way. You know how I know?"
"Yes, I know how you know."
"Tell me."
"Because you're too damn sure of yourself for your own good."
"That right."
"Yes. That's right."
He walked over to her. "You're one funky nun, you know that?"
"Oh, is that what I am? A funky nun? Father Delacy might have a different description of me."
"I don't care two shits what the Good Father thinks. He's as big a sex fiend as you are. He just keeps it hidden."
"I don't know about that. I got you up here without anyone knowing, didn't I?"
"So what are we waiting for?"
"I don't know. What are we here for?"
"For me to...."
But he suddenly faltered. The words simply refused to come out.
"I'm gratified, Juan. Even you have some sense of what you're doing. What's wrong? Can't you use the word fuck when you're talking to a nun?"
His eyes widened.
"You really aren't like any nun I ever knew."
"I don't doubt that for a second."
His hands were on her body now. The reflex to fear him was still strong and she flinched, but he felt it, grasped her tightly and pulled her to him, no letting her draw away even if she began to struggle.
But to her surprise, there was no struggle left in her. By now, she was nearly consumed by the heated blaze that burned relentlessly between her legs.
His fingers felt like hot pokers, each point on her body that he touched started a tingling throb that remained after he'd gone on to other parts.
He avoided her pussy and her breasts. She remembered the deft certainty of his touch when he'd had her on the chapel floor ... the confidence with which he had stroked her clitoris to full arousal. The first full arousal that it had experienced.
She found now, even after she was hungry for his touch, as she found herself craving the mounting fires of his stroking fingers, that he knew what he was doing.
For although he avoided her nipples, he made her highly aware of them ... in fact, even before he'd unbuttoned her shirt, he'd begun a circular stroking movement around the curved edge of her breasts, moving always closer to her nipples without ever once actually touching them.
Then, moving down to the inner surface of her thighs, he repeated the process stroking his fingertips up from her knees, moving them closer and closer to the mushy swamp of flesh where her two thighs came together, but always veering away before he reached her.
She quickly slipped back into the state that was becoming familiar to her ... a timeless state of pure arousal, a state of no thoughts ... at least none that were verbal or rational ... she was merely floating on her feelings, cushioned on a bed of exploding nerve endings, drifting aimlessly through a sensual landscape that was at once awful and terrifying, yet at the same time beautiful.
She felt her body responding more and more to his every caress, heard herself moan "yes ... yes ... yes ... oh yes...."
One button, another, and then another....
Her breasts were half exposed now, the pale white mounds pressing out of the bra cups, the soft curve of her flesh contrasting with the dark material of her shirt.
Then, more buttons, pulling the material out of her pants....
He unclasped the bra straps, pulled the piece of clothing off her shoulders and then, finally, he cupped both breasts with his hands.
But even then, he curved his palm more sharply than the curve of her breasts, keeping away from any direct contact with her now stiff nipples.
"Oh," she moaned, "please, touch them. Please ... they need it so bad."
"Sister, all of you needs it. My God, how d you do it ... spend your whole lives without sex? It's not human."
"Oh, I know, I know ... " she gasped. "Make me human. Please ... make me human...."
He chuckled. "So you can do it with a dog?"
She froze. She'd somehow allowed herself to forget that he'd witnessed that whole scene. Looking up into his face, she said, "No, you impudent little bastard. So I won't have to."
Again he seemed surprised by her direct approach to him, and, smiling, he at last pressed his palms against her breasts, pushing into them hard....
She felt a shock wave of electric sensation tear through her body, felt it blast a hole right through to the center of her brain and then charge out the back of her skull, first taking a detour to set a throbbing pulse rippling through her clit.
She felt her leg muscles go weak, and as she leaned against him for support, he started to rub his palms over her nipples ... keeping his pressure light, but the rhythm firm and steady.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she moaned ... "it's so good. So good. So good. I love it. I love it so much. Don't stop. Please. Don't ever stop. Ohhhhhh ... you feel so damned good."
She was saying anything that would come into her head, and he seemed to be amused by it. He put his thumb and forefinger of each hand around each of her nipples, began to pinch, not hard but with a steadily increasing pressure, and as he started to pull the rings of brown flesh out from her body, slowly stretching the mounds of her breasts, he said, "Take off your pants. Unbutton them and let them drop to the floor."
She wasted no time.
As they fell to her feet he said "Now the rest. I want to see you naked."
She worked the band of her underpants down her slender hips and they too fell to the floor.
Juan was still pulling on her breasts, still pinching her nipples harder and harder.
"Yeah," he said, "you look real fine. You got a sweet looking body, Sister."
She blushed. She was totally unaccustomed to hearing such comments, and while her first response was to react with indignation, she couldn't help feeling a bit pleased that she was able to provoke such a comment.
"Yeah," he went on, I like the way you're shaped. You got nice long legs. I can't stand it when a girl has a great body, down like to her thighs, you know. And then she's got these real stubby legs. They make her look like she's got hips that are way too low, but that ain't it at all. She's really got legs that are way too short."
"And you don't think that I have that problem?"
"Oh, hell now. Shit, you look like a ... well hell, you could be in a magazine. Honest. You could be in a magazine."
She felt a tingle rise in her face.
"What kind of magazine?"
"Ah ... you know. A magazine with pictures of women in it ... you know ... doing sexy things."
She felt more juices rise in her cunt.
"What kind of sexy things?"
"Oh ... I don't know. Whatever you want to do ... you know it's like up to you and the guy taking the pictures."
"Do you have any magazines like this?"
He laughed. "Sure. I guess everybody does. But I'll go you one better. I know someone who works for one of them. Hey, it's not just a sleaze rag either ... it's a high class magazine."
She was getting a little dizzy, just contemplating the idea. But as she'd already told herself, once the floodgates are opened, there's no way to regulate the flow. It seemed that every passing second charged her sexual sensibilities more and more. She was going to have to talk to this boy further about this.
But right now, he was effectively stifling any further discussion.
"Yeah ... " he said, looking her up and down one more time, and then stepping close to her again.
He ran his hands up and down over her body, stroking her nipples, her breasts, lowering them to the soft flat plain of her stomach, and then ... then ... finally, at last ... he touched her slit.
He carefully avoided her clitoris, for which she wanted to strangle him.
But by then, her body had become supercharged, and every point between her legs produced an electric shock wave when he brought his fingers into contact with the nerve endings.
Each wave of sensation seemed to echo all through her body, the vibrations in turn coming back to her crotch, charging her clit all the more, and making her desire rise to an even higher peak.
She needed it.
She wanted him to touch her, to stroke her, to enter and violate her.
She could control it no longer.
She needed to feel her body being driven to a point of utter manic bliss.
She knew he could do it. She needed to feel him do it.
"Oh, don't play with me any more. Please. Please. Touch me. Touch me, please." He laughed.
"I am touching you, Sister."
"No ... no ... you know what I mean."
"Touch you ... I am touching you Sister. You'll have to tell me if you want anything different."
"Stop this. You know what I'm talking about. Between my ... legs...."
"But see, Sister," he said, tickling her cunt lips, "I'm between your legs."
"Stop," she pleaded. "Won't you do what I ask?"
"If you ask me, yes. I'd love to."
"On my clitoris," she said, slowly and carefully, finding that the words weren't nearly as frightening once she allowed her to give them voice.
"Oh ... you mean ... here?" he asked, letting the tip of his finger drift lazily over the top surface of her clitoris.
She felt herself starting to shiver, and felt the muscles of her stomach and thighs begin to quiver.
"Oh ... yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she moaned. "Yes ... I love it. I really love it."
"I know you love it, Sister. I can tell. You should love it. It feels good, and I know how to do it to make it feel the very best."
He started to move the tip of his finger back and forth. She could feel the hard bud of nerves quivering against his touch, could feel each and every nerve ending pulse, quiver, start to sizzle and then burst into flame as he continued to stroke back and forth against the sensitive bit of flesh.
She had never imagined that her body could feel so good. Once more, she felt only a powerful surge of resentment against all those who'd told her that it was a sin to even contemplate such acts. That it was dirty, that it was profane, that the work of the Lord did not permit such things.
As far as she was concerned, a wave of pleasure such as she was riding could only be considered the work of the Lord. There was a profound contradiction somewhere.
She allowed herself to bring her hand between his legs, touching his hard cock.
She gasped, recalling the size of it, recalling its shape, recalling the way it felt stretching her hole, stretching her walls, pressing against the bottom of her cunt well.
"Oh yes," she said, pressing against his cock harder.
"You like that, Sister?" he asked.
"Oh yes. I do. I do. I ... I want to touch it."
"Well, don't let me stop you. Please, don't ever let me stop you."
He unzipped his pants just to help her out, and pulled his cock into view.
She felt her fingers trembling as she slowly brought them around the thick shaft.
"Oh, my goodness! It's so stiff."
"It's supposed to be. That's why they call it a hard-on."
'They call it that?"
"Well, among other things. Boner ... that's another one."
She started to giggle.
Then, wanting to look at it more closely, she said "bring it over here to the light. I want to see it."
"What the matter, Sister, haven't you ever seen a cock before?"
"Only yours. And I didn't get a very good look at that."
"I know. I kind of stuck it in you before you knew what I was doing, didn't I'"
"You certainly did."
In the light, the taut surface shone. There were thick veins running down the sides, up and down, twisting like vines.
"Why are the veins so thick?" she asked.
"What do you think makes it stiff?"
"Why ... I don't know."
"It's blood."
"Oh! Really?"
"Sure? Hey, are you serious? You really didn't know that?"
"No. What reason would I have to know what makes the male member erect?"
"Didn't you go to school."
"Yes ... but I managed to avoid the study of biology."
"Too bad, Sister. Comparative anatomy is one of the best subjects in school."
"What's that?"
"What we're studying right now."
"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Squeeze it."
"I don't want to hurt it."
"You can't hurt it. It was meant to be squeezed."
"Okay ... if you say so. But I'm afraid of hurting it."
"Look, Sister, trust me. You don't have a grip strong enough to hurt it."
She tightened her fingers around his cock, and continued to tighten them until she was certain that it was much too tight. She looked at him. "That's much too much, isn't it?"
He laughed.
"Aw, come on, Sister. You're kidding, right? I mean, you don't really think that's going to do it for me, do you?"
"I don't understand."
"I told you. You can't squeeze it too hard."
"My Goodness. Won't it cut off the blood supply."
"No. It'll feel good. That's the entire point, isn't it?"
"I suppose so ... " she said, dubiously. Then, bringing both her hands to the task, wrapping one around the other, she once more began to squeeze.
She felt the tendons in her wrists and arms starting to bulge, felt the muscles in her fingers and her hand steadily grow more and more exhausted.
Still, when she looked up into his face, there was no reaction.
"That's as good as you can do, huh?"
She sighed a deep sigh of exasperation.
"I cannot believe it," she said.
"Here, let me show you what I mean," he told her. "Now, if this starts to hurt your hand, you let me know. All right?"
"What are you going to do?"
"I'll show you."
He placed his hands over both of hers, which were still wrapped around his cock.
"Now," he said, "you start to squeeze, and when your hands are in position, I'll show you how hard you can get without hurting me."
She once again squeezed on his cock, giving it everything she had. Then, she felt the pressure from his hands.
"OH!" she cried out, "that hurts."
"See what I said."
"I cannot believe it. Why doesn't it hurt?"
"It's the way it's designed. Evolution. I don't know. Maybe cave women had monstrous grips. Who knows. Fortunately, you don't have to squeeze real hard, to make me come.
'That's a relief."
"Sure. Figure it out. I came when I was in you the last time. And even though you were pretty tight, you didn't come close to gripping me like this."
"I suppose so. What is it then?"
He started to tickle her clit again, very fast, and very lightly.
"That. Friction. The light touch. It does everything."
She started to breathe faster and faster, and then, as the sensations began to roll over her, she let go of his cock.
Keeping one hand between his legs, he started to take his pants off with the other hand. He pushed his tight jeans down his hips, then, followed with his underwear, and when he was naked, he pressed the head of his cock up against Sister Constance's soft stomach.
She moaned, pressed back against him, leaning into his body.
She kept her hands around his cock, and began to move it further and further down, letting the glans rub through her pubic hair, pushing it even further down, letting it slide between her legs, feeling it against the wet flesh of her cunt.
"Oh, my God ... " she moaned, starting to push the head of his cock up into her slit without waiting any further for foreplay, or even to see if he was ready.
But he was. Or so it seemed.
However, first, he had a few adjustments to make.
"Why don't we lay down on the bed," he said.
"Fine with me," she agreed.
They fell together as their bodies collapsed on the mattress, her legs opening, his cock seeming to fall into place naturally.
"You act like you know how to do this, Sister. You sure you didn't have some practice before you put your habit on?"
"Come now ... you had me for the first time. Or couldn't you tell?"
"Yeah ... I could tell."
She felt his glans pressing against her lips now, harder, harder, and then, with a small moan, feeling as though she was drifting out of control once more, she felt it slowly start to enter her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"OH! DEAR GOD STAY WITH ME. HELP
ME!! "
Juan looked up at her, horrified.
"Hey," he whispered urgently, "cool it with the volume , would you? I don't want to go up for a rape charge."
She suddenly seemed to awaken, from where, precisely, she could not have said. But as she looked around, she realized that she'd very rapidly allowed herself to completely lose control.
"Sister, you gotta keep quiet. Seriously, or else I'm gonna have to stick a gag in your mouth like I did last time. All right?"
"Maybe ... " she said, tentatively, "perhaps that would be best." She said it uncertainly, yet, at the same time, feeling a twinge of sensation rippling through her once more at the thought of it.
"You're kidding? You want me to gag you? Wow, I'll tell you, sister, you really freak me out. I swear, you should have never become a nun. I know a few places where you'd make out a lot better, you know what I mean?"
"No," she said. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You like sex so much, it seems a shame that you can't get something out of it."
"Such as."
"A good steady income, for one thing."
"What do I need with an income, living here in the convent?"
"Yeah? Well how long do you think you'll get away with doing this? You think you're going to be living her very long? Don't bet on it. I'm telling you, Sister, you've already given up being a nun. You just don't know it yet."
"You might be right," she said, finding the words shocking, yet undeniable.
"Hey ... you know, I think I could get to like you," he said to her, rolling back on top of her. "Now, why don't you spread your legs, and we'll get on with it. And this time, when I go into you, don't scream. It's not a good idea, I don't think.
"I know," she said, feeling a sheepish grin cross her face. "I'll try to watch out."
His cock began to split her pussy once more.
He had his fist around the base, gripping it tightly, aiming it with flawless precision.
The head, once firmly planted in her hole, began to rotate around the inner rim, stretching her at all points of the compass.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she began to moan, "it feels so good. So good. So damned good."
As he pressed the head of his cock around and around the rim of her hole, spreading her wealth of juice over the surface of his member, he slowly pushed it in. Bit by bit, she could feel more and more of his cock starting to fill her cunt.
The walls just inside the hole were extremely sensitive, and as the large mushroom shaped head began to squeeze past them, it set up a series of strong ripples surging all through her body.
"Oh my God, easy, easy ... please ... easy ... " But he knew what he was doing. He didn't mind pushing her to the edge of her endurance, but he had no desire to hurt her. That wasn't very productive at all to his way of thinking.
She could sense that too. There was a delicacy in the way he touched her, a soft, deft approach that revealed his concern for her pleasure.
More and more of his cock was in her now, and as the base drew nearer and nearer to the lips of her cunt, he began to press the shaft harder and harder against her.
She slowly raised her legs and let them wrap around the small of his back.
"Oh, that's nice, Sister. I like that. It let me get down deep in you."
She felt his cock take a dive for the bottom of her cunt, felt it start to split the membranes all the way to the back wall.
Then, at last, she felt the glans pressing against the very bottom, stretching the elastic membranes as far as they would be stretched.
"Oh ... I think you're in," she said.
"What gave you your first clue?" he asked. Then, he pulled his hips back.
It was a sudden lurching thrust.
She felt his glans rush all the back through the terrain that it had just covered, once again scraping the flared ridge at its base through the compressed membranes and tissues.
She let out a short, strangled moan, feeling the surge of sensation blasting through her cunt, her muscles, the rest of her body....
"Oh," she moaned, "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. I love it."
Juan chuckled.
"What's so funny?" she demanded.
"You're really getting off."
"Yeah, well I'd probably get off a lot more if you wouldn't keep on laughing at me and making me embarrassed."
"Sorry, Sister."
Then, he slammed it back into her. All the way in one single stroke. Her body shuddered.
"Oh GOD that feels wonderful. You're so big! You fill me up so full!"
He said nothing, merely pulled his cock back out of her, almost all the way.
As he held the glans at the hole to her cunt, he played it back and forth a little bit, moving it perhaps an eighth of an inch each way.
She sucked in a deep breath as he kept it up.
Holding it until she thought her lungs would burst, she finally let it out in a mighty gasp.
"Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," she moaned, her voice starting to feel to her like a think detached, almost as though it was coming from somewhere else.
He began to move his hips faster, rolling them back, them slamming them into her again, back and forth, pulling his cock with them each way.
In and out.
In and out.
Out and in.
Out and in.
Deeper and deeper.
Harder and harder.
Faster and faster.
Around and around.
Stretching, pulling, shoving, jerking, probing, drilling her cunt for all it was worth.
Her hips rolled wildly as well, trying to match his rhythm.
After a while, however, she was unable to keep up with him, and simply lay there as his cock plowed in and out of her slimy wet membranes.
She clamped her legs more tightly around the small of his back, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him to her as hard as she could. She suddenly had the feeling that she didn't ever want to let go of him. It was as though he'd made her feel complete, that he'd opened her to a side of life and reality that she'd never known before, that made her somehow more complete than she could have been otherwise.
No matter what Father Delacy and the Mother Superior might say, prayers and silent meditation could never make up for something as glorious as this.
In and out, in and out.
Harder and harder, faster and faster.
There was a thin layer of sweat forming on the surface of their skin, and as more and more of her juice was pumped to the surface and managed to ooze down and over her thighs and stomach, the meeting of their bodies grew sharper and sharper, with loud slapping sounds ringing through the room every time his hips slammed into hers.
Harder, harder, harder....
She saw crosses.
She saw the heavens open.
Angels flew around her head.
She felt like she was being shoved through the strings of a harp.
She heard bells. She heard organs. (She saw organs, for that matter, though they were considerably different from the ones she heard), and all the while, she was being steadily drawn closer and closer to madness, to that final complete loss of control, when she was totally at the mercy of her body, and of nerve endings firing in totally random fashion.
Harder, harder, harder....
And then, she blew.
All her muscles went spastic, her lungs sucked in air, they expelled air, her vocal cords made sounds and her brain tried to focus on what was happening, but none of it was particularly coordinated.
She was simply a reacting creature, with no thought, no rhyme or reason.
Only a cock pounding in and out of her cunt, driving her higher and higher, at the same time cleansing her mind of her past life, obliterating her past, altering her future, and leaving her with nothing certain, other than the constantly shifting mosaic of the present.
It was a present defined purely by her sensation.
By her feelings.
By her nerve endings.
A present that had become totally governed by her cunt.
She could want it no other way.
She looked down at her cunt, watching with deep fascination as he slowly extracted his cock, already starting to shrink.
"It doesn't take long, does it?" she asked.
"What do you mean, it doesn't take long? I fucked you for a good hour after I shot off."
"Come now, that's an exaggeration, wouldn't you say?"
"All right. But I did stay in you for a long time, didn't I?"
"I suppose you did, Juan, but you must remember, I'm not the best authority to ask. I'm not the most experienced person in the world, where sex is concerned."
"No, but you're learning," he said, patting her on the cheek.
"My ... you had a awfully lot in you, didn't you?"
"Huh?"
He looked down between her legs. From her opened lips, a steady stream of juice flowed.
"Oh yeah, I guess I did. It's all pretty sticky now, but soon it'll just turn to juice and get real messy."
"Oh. Lovely. I can hardly wait."
He looked down at her cunt again.
"Damn! I really think you got a pretty cunt, Sister. You know that."
"Thank you, Juan," she said. Strangely enough, now that he'd finished, she once more discovered that there was really nothing else she wanted him for.
"I think you should go now,' she said.
"What are you talking about," he asked, his voice hurt.
"I don't want you to get caught, and someone may have heard me. Besides, you never know when someone will come to the door."
"Why? It's the middle of the night."
"Surprise prayer sessions."
"Huh?"
"It's true. Happens all the time."
"I've never heard of that."
"You've never lived in a convent either, have you."
"No, I guess not."
"See there. Honestly, sometimes, they'll come by at four in the morning, and you're really in trouble if you can't remember the litany."
"I don't get it ... how come you're so anxious to get rid of me?"
"I'm not. I just don't want you around."
"That's stupid...."
"Listen, Juan. You can't expect me to just go diving into something like this without giving it any thought. This is the most serious thing I've ever done in my life. Now ... it could either be the best thing I've ever done, or it could turn out to be the worst thing I've ever done. I'd like to not think that this was my most serious mistake. You follow?"
"Yeah, sure Sister," he said, blinking.
"Good. Listen, check back, would you."
"Sure. Uh ... is this it. I mean, are you throwing me out."
"Well ... I wish you wouldn't use that term, but ... yeah. I guess I am."
He suddenly looked like the boy he really was. A boy who couldn't get his way.
"Don't get surly with me, Juan," she cautioned. "Don't think I won't turn you in."
"You couldn't. You wouldn't dare. They'd know you were bullshitting. They'd know you were lying."
She smiled.
"Please. I think I just need to be alone. It felt wonderful, and I've got no regrets or apologies, but I can't just act like I'm doing something that's perfectly normal. It isn't, and I'm doing myself a grave disservice if I try to pretend that it is."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Fine. Fine. How do I get in touch with you?"
"You don't. You give me your number, and I'll get in touch with you."
"Hey look, I don't know...."
She held up her hand.
"Please, Juan, let's not quibble. I've got a place here to consider. I don't think I can balance the two. I really don't. But you never know. I might be able to. I just might be able to do it."
He put his clothes on.
"You know, maybe we could get together sometime away from here, so you wouldn't have to worry about screaming and stuff."
"I'd like that." His face lit up. "Really."
"Sure."
"Wow. I don't know why ... I just thought you wouldn't want to do it."
"I'm not saying that I'll be able to do it all the time. That's why I said that if you give me your number, I'll get in touch with you."
"Okay. Whatever you say."
He wrote it down, and then, just as he was ready to climb through her window again, he turned to her.
"Hey Sister, thanks again for not turning me in."
"Thank you for changing my world."
He flashed a wide grin. "Hey, anytime." And he was gone.
She fell back onto the bed, turned out the light, and for a long time, she lay there, feeling profoundly strange.
Sleep, though she desired it, would not come. No matter how hard she tried, it simply would not even begin to claim her mind.
She had the feeling that she was racing far to much ahead of herself.
She was getting in way over her head, and she needed once in a while to stop and try to take stock of her situation.
It was frightening.
She began to try to recall her life, her frame of mind before it all started.
It felt like a different person. like someone who was no longer alive. Almost like someone that she had thought she knew, but learned that it was someone else completely.
She tried to remember what she filled her mind with before she had images of cocks and thoughts of fucking to occupy her.
Had she really spent her entire day in prayer? It hardly seemed possible,. but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed that that was indeed what had happened.
What a boring existence, she thought.
And yet ... there was an innocent beauty that she could remember as well.
The walks in the garden had been so peaceful.
There had been times that she'd actually felt close to the maker.
Whether or not she was, of course, was a matter of conjecture.
But the feeling of closeness, the sense that she'd been in the midst of a religious instant had always accompanied her.
She wondered, was it's temporal counterpart, the orgasmic moment, an equal substitute?
On the surface, it felt like it. But she couldn't be sure. She knew that she hadn't felt the presence of the Lord in a long time.
Since her decision not to turn in Juan.
Had she committed a sin? Was God punishing her?"
It could be. It could very well be.
She tossed and turned on the bed, looked out the window through which her lover had just made his escape and tried once more to put the scattered pieces of her life into some coherent structure.
It wouldn't yield, however.
Everything remained at the edges of comprehension, like a scene just out o focus.
Who'd put vaseline over the lens of her life?
What were they trying to obscure?
She finally could stand it no more, and rose from her bed, put her robes back over her body, and, making certain that her habit was carefully arranged, she opened the door to her quarters.
It was late ... or rather, early. No one was about. She looked at the clock as she closed the door on her room and saw that it was only 3:00 A.M.
She would have a long time to herself. Perhaps in the morning, she'd have to sleep and miss her assignments, but she figured that they might expect that. Someone would cover for her.
She walked silently through the stone hallways. She didn't bother to look out for anyone, because she was convinced that there was no one around.
Thus, she didn't see the eyes that followed her passage down the hallway, and after waiting for her to round the corner, slowly followed behind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sister Constance didn't realize it, but she was in the midst of a profound identity crisis.
All she was aware of was the fact that she didn't know what to do, what to think, how to react, how to behave.
She was like a piece of driftwood battered by waves in a storm.
She didn't have any firm reference points to guide her ... other than the fact that she was still feeling a wild, mad tingling inside her cunt.
The boy had left, and the only thing that remained was the sensations that he'd awakened.
She couldn't dispel the images that were driving through her brain. He was a momentary release, that was all ... she'd thrown him out as soon as she was finished and no sooner was he gone than she'd started to dream again.
To feel....
To imagine....
To desire....
How could she cope?
That was the question that drove her now, how could she cope with this unexpectedly awakened urge between her legs, that eclipsed everything she'd ever known in her life, and obscured every thing she'd ever loved.
How indeed?
She tried not to think.
She tried not to be aware of what she was doing, where she was going, and what she planned to do once she got there.
But she knew.
It was a powerful craving, one that her session with Juan had only tickled and enhanced.
She remembered the dream ... the feeling of raw, brute force, the animal loins gripping her body.
She remembered that tongue ... those eyes, like flaming stones from hell.
She remembered all this and she felt only an insatiable desire.
She felt somehow that she was drawing closer to some moment of truth, though what form it would take she could only guess.
But now....
The night was clean. Fresh. The air was crisp, a little cool....
She pushed open the doors to the garden, still clearing her mind of all images, all thoughts....
She wandered the paths like a lost soul seeking salvation.
She stood motionless in the night, and she waited.
She did not have to wait long.
Soon, she heard the sound.
The soft padding of paws along the hardened pathway.
She heard a rustling through the brush.
She heard leaves parting, branches shoved aside, she heard breathing, she felt the hot breath, she reached down and she touched that large head....
She was trembling.
She was as a robot, as a machine, following a program of movements that she had no control over. '
There was no thought, no reason to what she was doing.
There was only an image, an image born on a dreamscape, an image of her on her knees, her face to the ground, her buttocks raised high, an image of violation so total and complete, that she could give it no voice, could find no words to express the reality of it, even to herself.
It was her path out.
It was her method of breaking the past, and it's iron hold on her.
She felt the familiar snout sniffing at her body.
Her hands were weak as she touched the beast.
She guided his tongue once more to her crotch, and felt the dizzying sensations wash over her. She couldn't explain it to herself, nor did she need to or want to. She needed something far more basic instead.
Leaning forward now, leaning over the animal.
Her arms are wrapped around his neck. She embraces him. She lets her nostrils fill with the scent.
She touched her lips to his fur. She is crazed. She is delirious.
She is aroused far beyond anything imaginable, far beyond her limited experience. She knows only that this is what she is being driven to. This is her appointment with her fate. It has already been ordained. It remains only for her to act out the role provided her.
Her robes rise above her waist ... and then, they are off her altogether.
The night air brushes over her breasts, caressing them with a gentle cooling breeze ... not cool enough to still the flames leaping ever higher within her, but enough to counter the thin film of sweat forming over her skin.
She gives a shudder.
Can she do this? And then, can she get the dog to perform his part properly?
Why is this suddenly such an obsession with her? She allows the question to appear, and then, watches with her mind's eye as it slowly crumbles and vanishes before any attempt is made to answer it.
It no longer matters. She understands that she has been living a life that has only appeared to be an organic linking of cause and effect. In truth, there has been no more reason for her prior life than for her current actions.
There is only the needs of the moment.
The tongue drifts through her pussy, the strength of the soft wet muscle spreading her lips, opening her body.
She leans forward, spreads her thighs, raises her ass as high as she can.
The dog's tongue continues to slurp its way through her, pushing deeper and into her body.
She feels her breath coming now in short hard bursts. She feels the tongue wiping the juice from her cunt lips, feels the heat in her clitoris rise with every passing second.
And then she thinks, 'What if he won't? What if I can't get him to do it?'
She pushes backwards with her body, pushes into the dog, feels his snout press backwards with greater force.
Yes, she thinks. Yes, yes....
And then, he does it.
She feels him take a couple of steps forward, feels him position his front legs on either side of her body and begin to squeeze.
She slides further back beneath him, He moves further up her body.
His smooth underbelly presses now against her back.
She can feel the short bristly hair rubbing against her.
His back haunches now begin to work their way up her legs, on either side of her thighs now....
She spreads her legs wider. She feels a current of fear starting to pour through her body.
It is cold.
It is hot. It is all things at once.
Something is touching her!
Something hot, hard ... dripping!
His haunches grip her like a vise now, he begins to wiggle his back up and down, trying to position himself in her perfectly.
She grunts, groans, lets out small sounds of agonized sensation ... and yet, there is a feeling inside the depths of her brain, similar to what she felt the day she was raped, a feeling of wholeness, a feeling that, finally, for the first time in her life, she is experiencing what was intended for her ... that her life is coming at last to its true purpose, whatever it may be.
There is a quick increase in tension and pressure, a sudden lurch, and the animal cock slams into her body.
She moans.
She feels it ripping with impersonal lust into her cunt hole, driving all the way into her.
The animal moves by instinct and reflex, obeying command patterns engrained into its genes eons ago.
It works fast. In and out, in and out, fast, blindingly fast, and hard. It is, to be sure, the true incarnation of the term 'brute force', a power drive of a fuck, with no subtleties, no emotions, no sense that anything is involved but a collision of body parts.
There isn't even that sensibility.
There is just a mindless subservience to passion and lust.
There is only the harsh reality of animal juices and her own juices mixing in a steaming, perverted, forbidden soup.
Harder!
Harder!
Harder!
Again and again and again....
She feels the animal's claws on her back.
It hurts. She wants to cry out, but she is afraid that might frighten him away.
Again and again he pounds her. Harder, harder, harder, Squeezing her roughly now, digging in for that final burst.
And then she feels it. She feels it powering her pussy, charging the membranes of her violated cunt.
She feels the animal's cock draining into her, feels it emptying into her.
And she feels her own body respond, as though a trigger had been pressed.
The waves shoot through her, rolling over her, obliterating her.
She crumbles, she collapses, she lies still.
It is over, fast, and yet, while it has taken place, there has been no time. She might just as well have spent years in this position. She has no sense of how long it's taken.
But it is over, and quickly, the animal fades back into the night.
She lies there, peculiarly at peace with herself, with the world, and with her God.
He is not the same God she once knew in this garden
Perhaps it is for that reason that she has missed him. recently. But he is a God that comprehends the enormity of her act, who is understanding of the complexity of her reaction, and who is compassionate enough to make room for her in his scheme of things.
The universe is well, she thinks. She is a bit giddy. She is a bit mad.
The cold air once again seems to settle onto her naked skin. Yet, she still does not move.
She prefers only to lie there, to feel.
That's what has changed!
Now, she feels. Her body, so long denied, has come alive. She feels. FEELS!
She also hears.
What does she hear?
What is that sound? Why, the animal has come back, has it not? Is that not what she hears? Or at least, if not the dog ... something ... moving through the bushes....
"Sister Constance," she hears, a masculine voice. It is a dream. It is not real. She will wake up soon. She will be in her bed.
"Sister Constance," the voice repeats again.
She slowly turns around and looks up into the eyes of Father Delacy. She does not recognize him for a moment.
"Sister Constance, you must get up off the ground. You will catch your death of pneumonia."
"Father ... " she says at last. "How are you?"
"I'm quite well Sister Constance. I fear, however, that you are not. I blame myself. I should have seen it coming."
"Coming ... " she said, starting to giggle. "I've been doing a lot of that lately."
"Have you?"
His face looked pained.
He held out his hand. "Come with me, my child. I'll take you home."
CHAPTER NINE
Sister Constance felt her muscles trembling.
Was this what a condemned prisoner felt, waiting for that final march to the scaffold....
She looked around her room, and realized that she would never see it again.
Even now, they were deciding her fate. She knew there was only one option for her, and that was for her to leave the convent, leave the order, leave the church altogether.
There was no room in God's universe for one such as her.
That's what Father Delacy had said to her.
"You are a child of the devil, my dear, and I fear we must cast you out, before you succeed in corrupting others among us. God knows what your responsibility was in the sorry business with Sister Beatrice ... only you can answer that for yourself. But child, we must be rid of you. You are an abomination. You are unclean. You are a piece of filth."
The frightening thing about this monologue was the steady calm with which he desired, it to her, his face smiling and friendly all the while.
She was sent to her room, and told that they would soon come with their decision.
That could only mean that he was calling a meeting of the entire upper eschelon of the convent ... something that she could never remember happening at this hour in the morning. The good Father must place an utmost premium on removing her from the rest of the convent.
She shuddered to think of it. Such a humiliation.
And yet....
And yet....
. Wasn't this precisely what she so desired? Hadn't she grown beyond her habit? Didn't she crave the perverse ... the bizarre?
She remembered the feeling of that alien organ entering her body ... for that matter, she couldn't forget the feeling of Juan's cock entering her body.
No ... she was certain. There could be no turning back. She'd set her life on a course, and she was obligated to stick to it. No matter how difficult or painful it might prove to be.
Still, she sat on the edge of her bed, looked around her room and realized that this was just about the only home she'd ever known. There was a sense of infinite sadness about her, as if she was laying down a burden long thought heavy, only to find that without it, her balance was throw completely out of kilter.
She felt panic, not only about having to face the Father and the Mother Superior, but also of the implications of her actions.
Had anyone ever been thrown out of a convent before? It hardly seemed possible, and yet she was certain that it must have occurred before. Could she really be the only one? One thing was certain, she doubted that anyone had ever been thrown out for copulating with an animal before....
And they didn't even know about the young man.
Where was he now, she wondered, fondly. He was suddenly the only thing left in her life, the one thing that gave her life meaning.
And she didn't even know how to contact him, how to find him....
She didn't even know his last name!
And at that, even if she did get out and locate him, she had no assurance that he wouldn't finally be tracked down for his role in the brutal mutilation of Sister Beatrice.
Why had the Father said what he'd said. Did he truly suspect more? Ah ... but the question was, could he prove it?
She didn't see how.
In fact, she was convinced that he'd just been fishing for something, what she couldn't have said, but he'd watched her reaction closely when he said it. She'd made certain, of course, to keep her face totally blank ... she was already starting to think of her own life as having a different purpose, goal, and values from those of the convent.
But what those values might be, specifically, she was at a loss to say.
Her future looked like an empty page. She was supposed to fill it herself, but she didn't have the faintest idea where to begin.
And so she sat in her room and she waited.
She counted the cracks on the ceiling (326, unless she'd missed a couple) and she ran back through the events that had brought her to this point, trying to see if there was anything, in truth, that she honestly could regret and ask God's forgiveness over....
But there wasn't. Not that she could tell. It all seemed to have been ordained somehow. It all seemed to have been a choreographed routine, and she'd only been following her assigned role.
She only wished that she had a little insight into the nature of the rest of her role. Where did she go from here?
She looked around the room one more time, and finally, she saw it. It was a small scrap of paper ... she could easily see how she'd overlooked it the first time....
But now, suddenly, she saw that there was some writing on it.
She went over to the floor just beneath the window where it was lying, picked it up and read, JUAN....
There was a telephone number after his name, and the words "CALL ME".
Suddenly her head was spinning.
He must have left it there when he left her room earlier in the evening (had it really been the same night? It all seemed to have taken place ages ago.)
She looked around, as if fearing that someone might discover her with it and take it away from her.
No, she thought defiantly to herself, no one was going to get this. No one at all.
It was hers, it was her ticket to some kind of freedom, she didn't know what, but whatever it was, it was better than the slow death that she would face behind these walls.
He'd said "CALL ME", and she had to assume he meant it.
She would call him.
As soon as she left.
She looked around one more time, bit her bottom lip to keep from crying, and then, once the moment was past, proceeded to open her suitcase, and began to pack it with the few articles of clothing that she had to her name. With any luck, by the time Father Delacy came to her room with the decision of the tribunal, she would be gone.
* * *
Outside the motel room window, there was a bright flashing neon light, continually blinking on and off. It had at one time said something coherent, of that Sister Constance was certain, but now, it only said *u**R* *S**IK*
Yes, she thought to herself, you are sick, sister ... but then, there was no need any more to even think of herself as a sister, was there?
That was going to take some getting used to, she knew that for a fact.
But here she was, lying on a bed in a cheap motel, in a seedy part of town, waiting for a young man who'd once raped her, and watched her getting erotic with a dog....
It was too much.
Don't think, don't think, she repeated to herself. It was the last thing she needed to do ... tell herself what an irrational situation she was in.
At times, the best course of action was to simply do it. Do not attempt anything that makes sense. Nothing could be worse. Simply do. Simply move forward. Don't think. Don't think. .
And so she waited.
And wondered.
And waited.
* * *
"I don't believe it. I really don't believe it. You left. You honest-to-God just walked out?" She nodded.
"Wow ... that takes real balls, you know that, Sister."
She shook her head. "Why not?"
"Because, they were going to throw me out anyway."
"Really? How come?"
She looked at him. "I'm ... I'm embarrassed to tell you."
He moved over to sit beside her on the bed.
"Aw, come on, Sister-"
"Don't call me that any more. I'm not a sister! I'm just ... Constance."
"All right, I'll call you Connie. How's that sound?"
"Strange."
"Yeah, well, it's strange to me too. Now, tell me why they were going to throw you out. What did they do, discover about me?"
She shook her head.
"No ... " she said, and then, found that she was unable to continue.
"Hey ... it's all right whatever it is, Sister, honestly. It's all right. What happened, did you go after one of the dogs, again?"
She stared at him in silence, and then, he realized that he'd hit a bullseye.
"Oh wow ... I didn't realize...."
"It's all right. It's what happened. I'm not particularly proud of it, but it's what happened, and I might as well accept it."
"That's a good healthy attitude, I think."
"You mean you're not offended by the fact?"
"Hey come on, I'm the one who raped a nun, remember. It takes a lot to offend me." She smiled.
"We're an awfully strange pair, don't you think?"
He agreed. "Yeah ... real weird."
"Well," she said, finding that she was unable to dwell on the real world problems that she was facing for very long, "what do you want to do?"
"There's only one thing that I want to do," she said, suddenly finding the sensation between her legs to be unbearable.
"Yeah, what's that?"
He was grinning with a wide, lewd smirk.
Outside, the blinking light gave her the feeling that she was in some kind of twisted Broadway Musical, or maybe a circus sideshow. Was that what she was, nothing more than an freak, something that was good for a few hours entertainment, but nothing more serious than that?
She looked over at her companion. How could she read his face? There was no way, because she had no experience in dealing with people and circumstances in the outside world. She couldn't tell if he was playing with her, or if she could count on him.
But as he stared back, his mouth twisting into a fiendish grin, his eyes seeming to heat up with lust and passion, almost taking on the appearance of chips of red hot coal, she began to have a sinking sensation that she was in the grips of a demon ... a devil ... that perhaps she herself had been tainted by the devil, that her soul had been irrevocably stained....
How could she then explain the fire between her legs, growing more fierce now as his hands reached out to her, touched her, began to caress her cheeks and the back of her neck ... ?
How?
There was no way. There was only resistance and acceptance. She realized that, almost without her conscious awareness of it, she'd made her choice. She accepted the reality of her fate. She yearned for him, for his touch, for his throbbing manhood between her legs, and if that constituted a pact with the devil ... so be it.
"You know what I want to do," she repeated, coming now to him, throwing her arms around him. She felt his hands at her breasts, felt him unbuttoning each of her buttons, slowly, carefully, pulling her blouse from her shoulders.
She felt the cool air on her naked breasts, felt his fingers reaching for her nipples, taking them and manipulating them, squeezing them, pinching them, probing deeply into the depths of her rounded mounds of flesh.
He continued to work on her breasts, slowly loosening the material of her skirt, beginning now to move it down her thighs.
She felt fear. This was almost like a pilot's first solo flight. She was now committing a profane act, in the profane world. It was something new for her. Something that she was still unprepared to cope with.
All she was truly ready to deal with, Was the slow, steady, inexorable march of his fingers down, down, down, reaching now between her legs, touching the wet material covering her moist lips....
"You know something Sister...."
"Please ... " she interrupted him, "refer to me no longer as 'Sister', for it makes me comfortable."
"Gotcha ... you know what we're going to need to do real quick ... Connie?"
She smiled at the sound of her name. Her new name. Her new identity.
"No. What?"
"We gotta get you some sexy panties."
Constance felt her cheeks start to burn in a fierce blush.
"Yeah ... " Juan went on, "and we're going to need to wrap these gorgeous tits in something besides this armor that you keep wearing."
He held up her stiff white bra, heavy, almost like cardboard.
Again she felt her cheeks burning in a blush.
"I cannot help the way that I've had to dress," she protested.
"Hey, no offense, honest ... I'm just telling you, that now, you're on the outside, and you have to dress like it."
The thought was forbidden, and thus, thrilling.
"Urn ... one thing."
"Yes ... ? "
"You gonna want to get a dog."
"What?"
"You know. I mean, you said you was making it with a dog."
"PLEASE!"
"Hey, come on, Sister, I mean Constance ... I don't mind."
She couldn't bring herself to look at him.
He touched her shoulder.
"Seriously ... I think it's kind of kinky. I like it. Really. It makes me think you're a real ballsy lady. You know?"
"I'd prefer not to talk about it."
"Okay. I just wanted you to know that I don't mind, if you want to get your rocks off that way."
What was he suggesting, she wondered. That they were setting up houskeeping?
"Am I to live with you?" she asked.
"Well, hell, you don't have any other place to go, do you?"
She shook her head.
"No family, no friends...."
Again she shook her head.
"Well, then I guess you'll have to stay with me. Till you figure out what you're going to do."
Then, his hand began to move back down to her crotch once more, this time sliding beneath her panties....
She felt the tips of his fingers touching her wet slit.
He spread her lips slightly, just enough to seek out the hardening nub of her clitoris.
He began to stroke the inner rim of her pussy hole, slowly, carefully, not pressing too hard, just enough pressure to make her really feel it.
A little deeper now, past the inner lips of her hole, down to the inner depths of her cunt chamber, where there waited a heated pool of her juices.
She was hot, she was heavy with lust, her nipples were stiff, and so was her clit.
She found that all her other questions began to melt away in the face of such an overwhelming blitz of sensation.
He pressed his fingers further up into her, lowered his head to her crotch and with the tip of his tongue began to lick over her protruding clitoris.
"Oh, MY GOD!! ! OH SWEET JESUS!! !
YES YES YES YES YES YES YYES!! ! " He looked up.
"Really getting to you, huh, sis?"
She arched her back to jam her hip more deeply into his face.
"Bite me," she cried, "I need to feel it. I need to feel. Feel ANYTHING!! ! "
So he bit her. Not hard. But he felt the tip of his teeth pressing against the rubbery feeling bud of her clit.
She began to moan, to cry out, to groan, to thrash about on the bed.
She needed to feel everything that he was doing to her, and more.
Her body was still waking up from its years long slumber. She would take a long time before she was truly awake. But she was making progress.
