I trembled with fear as the priest dragged me down into the dark dungeon.
When he bound me to the cold stone walls, my terrified mind conjured horrid pictures of all the dreadful things that could happen to me at the hands of such an evil tormenter. Already Father Banday had rammed his long hard cock through the hole in the confessional's partition and ravaged my young cunt, breaking my frail virgin seal with his hard and monstrous lust weapon.
Sinfully, I had enjoyed the lewd pleasure of fucking. I knew that I was now forever
damned, for the evil depravities of the flesh had thrilled my wanton body.
In the darkness of the dungeon I feared my fate. My cunt oozed with the priest's unholy seed as I imagined the even more horrid punishments that awaited me. I was as filled with shame and guilt as I was with sperm, but I knew in my heart that I had loved every wicked moment of the debauchery the young priest and I had enjoyed as we blasphemed the sanctimony of the confessional.
Chapter One
What makes men evil?
What makes men do evil things? Such evil things! What on Earth?
From what dark, dank and fathomless well does mankind draw the vile wine of turpitude, to drink and fill its bestial flesh with depraved, demonic and most wicked urges?
Facing the lacerating flames of dreaded and destined Hell, admonished of sin's infernal punishments, why do mortals continually surrender to their helpless appetites, the wanton desires of their doomed flesh? Why does human nature continually writhe in the house of excrement, in murky mirth and madness?
Some people ask these questions. First, they wonder within themselves. Finding no answer they turn to the Church. They are idiots. I never ask. I am no one's fool, save, perhaps, my own. I ask no questions of the Church. From it I expect, nothing, except my fortune.
Known in every diocese of France as Sister Agatha, I am a woman of vast worldly experience. My history is marked by good and by evil and by radical transgressions.
Once, long ago, I was even a virgin, incredible as it seems. Contrary to bawdy lore, the whispers of the dark chambers, contrary to stories traded by lewdly gossiping monks about my past, I was not born a harlot, with a male member embedded in my infant cunt.
Long ago I was a virtuous maiden, a simple farm girl, the sole daughter of a humble vineyard laborer in the sometimes sultry south of France. I was a child of an era long gone, when peasant did not necessarily mean proletarian.
In my life I have been devout and I have been debauched. Yea, I have been depraved, and, as Lucifer is my witness, I can vouch for the veritable (and, I might add, venerable) superiority of debauchery. Trust a woman of vice to tell the world's tawdry truths; take my word as gospel: between virtue and vice, vice is more divine.
I am now a young and beautiful Mother Superior. I go forth in the world with an expression of piety upon my face, melting heathen hearts. But in my heart there is very little piety; in my soul there is none.
The world sees my black nun's habit and believes me to be the mourning widow of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
The world sees my crucifix hanging from my neck, sometimes shrouded within my ecclesiastical robes (my wanton widow's weeds) and does not suspect that I hide, under my pious garb, a pair of huge hot breasts and nipples that are always rigid with tireless lust, ever ready for the kisses of men's mouths or the childish tongues of innocent young virgins whom I exploit without mercy.
For a nun I have divine tits, and my heart is a lewd incessant pump which races lusty blood through my tyrannical body, fueling my licentious lust.
The foolish world is bamboozled by my outward appearance, my bogus piety, my cunning.
Villagers and townspeople who come on their donkeys and asses, baronial lords who ride in their elaborate carriages to attend the services in the small chapel of our parish, hear my clear clarion voice chanting the holy vespers and are deceived like guileless sheep being led to slaughter.
Where shall I begin my crooked narrative? There are so many places to begin. I have lived many lives, not one, and I have many tales to tell, each one shameless and depraved.
Of course, I have not always been an interesting woman. My origins are shabby and dull. My life began in the ordinary manner: I was born of man and woman, a child of human coupling. My birth is perhaps the least provocative aspect of my life, so I shall spare my readers the details. Suffice it to say that my poor mother was eight hours in labor, without the aid of a midwife, for my family was poor.
Finally, I slurped out of my mother's body, a slimy and bloody mass. My father, who had been attending my mother, was able to save my life, but not my mother's. The excruciating pain of prolonged labor and the agony of my passage through her young cunt was too much for her to endure; my birth caused her death.
The first years of my life were dull. Fortunately, I have no memory of them.
I do remember, however, that I remained a virgin for the longest time, more than ten long years of my life.
It is rather amusing that I became a nun. In fact, the irony of my conversion is of an almost divine order.
To this very day I remain astounded at the dramatic peripeteia of my life. Now that I am a shrewd and resourceful woman, having made my fortune from my body and my wiles, and from procuring fresh virgin flesh of innocent girls for the carnal pleasures of the monks and bishops of many dioceses, I am able to view my innocent childhood and my tortured youth with detachment and wry amusement. It has, however, taken me years to perceive the humor and irony of my sufferings, for I have been through rugged years, and have, on this our Earth, suffered the fires of Hell.
At a tender age I realized that I was damned. An innately clever girl, I decided to accept my damnation and make the most of it. The Church, of course, has changed my life. In it I have found, if not my salvation, a source of fortune. Additionally, the Church has sharpened my worldly wit. Religious life does give one a greater appreciation of life's ironies.
As a young girl I was truly devout. I prayed every evening before going to sleep, every morning upon awakening, before and after every meal, and at many random times during the day, whenever I felt a need for holy guidance or divine forgiveness.
I am afraid that I was constantly seeking forgiveness, for despite my deep devotion to God and the Church, I was a constant sinner. I could not keep my hands from my young female flesh, nor could I keep lustful thoughts from my vivid imagination.
Every night as I lay in my little straw bed among the goats in our humble home I was tormented by brazen images of men's bodies.
Gigantic cocks would flash into my mind and bid me to worship them. Their lurid images flooded my young mind and drove my fingers to my young virgin sex. Lust possessed me like myriad demons invading my soul. My efforts to exorcise these sinful images were all vain. My young cunt did not care for the vanity of my righteousness. My snatch sneered at my sanctimoniousness and sucked my fingers into its steaming swamp of sin.
Every night when my mind filled with the images of big male members, bloated with hot pumping blood, threatening to plunge into my young virgin pussy and delight all my wicked instincts, I would spring from my bed and kneel demurely on the bare earth floor, my hands clasped and my head bowed.
I prayed to our Lord to forgive me my wicked thoughts. I concentrated all my being into fervent prayer, but I knew that I was possessed by the Devil. Try as I might, I could not leave my aching cunt untouched. My flesh was bedeviled and dripped delicious nectars, like the dews of the vineyard, streaking my young thighs.
Every night my fingers drilled into the wanton abyss between my young eager legs. As I massaged the virgin opening of my yearning woman hole, pressing the red tender raisin of the exquisite center of joy that I later learned to call my clit, I felt the pangs of shame suffered by sinners who cannot help disobeying the Church's laws. I knew that I could be consumed by the fires of Hell, but I did not care. The heat of my body was a paradise of its own, and to swoon in the glorious flames of my lust, to enjoy the monumental bliss of my young body, I would suffer an eternity of perdition.
In my demented state I stroked the hot insides of my body, pressing my fingertips into the tight opening of my hole and massaging the simmering meat of my cunt. My body shivered with terrifying chills and boiled with horrendous heat. I poked my fingers into my wet and wicked cunt and surrendered to the all pervasive delight that spread gaudily through my flesh.
As I fingered my hot hole, rushing in and out of the shallow antechamber of my childish womanhood, invading my hot hole as deeply as I could without striking the barrier that nature had erected between my exploring fingers and the wild depths of my womanly wildness, I knew that I should be praying for forgiveness. But even as I tested the fragility or strength of my maidenhead, I prayed for everything but forgiveness.
Indulging in the most vile blasphemy, I actually prayed to our Lord, as I stabbed the swooning flesh of my dripping cunt, for a magnificent man to appear suddenly and ravage my heated hole. I prayed poignantly for a cock to join the crusade of my cunt and force its power into my body to fuck me to a serene pulp.
I knew that out Lord would not grant my heathen wishes, and I knew that I was damned to an even greater perdition for thinking of such prayers. Yet I prayed that my climax would be good.
I am afraid I asked the Lord to give me more than my daily bread.
And every night I performed my wicked rituals, indulging in unholy lust on the blasphemous alter of my hot dripping snatch.
Every night, without exception, I coaxed my young body to high citadels of climax.
Discharging in great visceral explosions of bliss, feeling passion in my pussy, I knew that I was an anathema on God's Earth.
Since the attack of puberty and my agonizing evenings of shameful lust, I had been terrified to confess my sins. Finally, a few days before my fourteenth birthday (by which time I was experienced with the blissful agonies of pubescent lust, being a frighteningly precocious girl) I went to the chapel and begged to confess my sins to the Father.
My heart was heavy with shame and sorrow. I sat in the small confessional, which seemed like a cage. Once in the darkness of the tiny structure, I feared that the Father, once hearing my shocking confession, would never let me out. My punishment, I feared, would be eternal confinement within the confessional box.
My body trembled, worried for my soul. As I began to confess my sins, I feared that the Father would tell me that I was the most evil little girl in the world and my sins were beyond forgiveness.
"Forgive me, Father," I began. "I have sinned terribly against God and nature..."
"Yes; my child... tell me all!"
Fearfully, I pressed my mouth close to the hole in the dividing wall between myself and the priest.
Ordinarily, the opening in the partition is covered by an iron grill, but on that particular day the grill had been removed to be polished by charwomen.
Alas, this curious bit of fate would be my undoing.
I shuddered as I felt the priest's ear brushing against my lips. Although I could not see him, I knew that he was, after all, a man.
"I have had sinful thoughts, Father," I began reluctantly.
"Of course you have, my child! A girl as young as yourself can only be wicked in her thoughts. You are still too innocent to know the full evils of the flesh. But wickedness of mind is as damnable as sin of the body, just as disastrous to the soul. You must tell me your wicked thoughts, every damned one of them!"
"Oh, Father," I sighed. "I do not know that I can tell you; they are so wicked."
"You must, my child. It is for the purpose of hearing your confession, however abominable, that I am here."
I shuddered with shame. Even as I prepared to confess my evil thoughts and dreams, hoping to purge them, they filled my mind with greater vividity than ever before. Confronting the attentive priest, about to spill my shameful story, seeking desperately to cleanse my soul, my mind conjured lurid images of large marvelous cocks, and my loins trembled with desire.
"I have had thoughts of men, Father. I have tried to banish them from my mind, but they linger in the recesses of my skull, tormenting me day and night. I yearn to feel a man's body pressed against my own flesh," I moaned, my voice quavering.
"Yes, my daughter," the priest answered. "You are besieged by the demons of earthly lust. You must tell me what you and the men do together in your thoughts. What do these imaginary men do to your young and lovely body?"
I trembled with deep shame. I dared not tell the priest the details of my depravity. I whispered that I could not speak, but he commanded me, in the name of our Lord, to tell him all.
"I imagine, Father, that the men strip the clothes from my body and touch my nakedness," I confessed, feeling more damned than I had ever felt before.
"Vile child!" the priest hissed through the hole in the wooden partition. "I fear there can be little help for a girl who at such a tender age has wandered so far on the wayward path. You must tell me everything! Do you hear me? Everything! I must know the full extent of your evil thoughts if I am to help you seek salvation."
"In my thoughts, Father, the men caress me between my legs. Eagerly, I strip their garments from their hard, gleaming flesh. They are sun-bronzed, muscular, often hairy on their massively developed chests. I run my hands down the hairy furrows of their hard hot torsos, and as I move my fingers on their bodies, I feel waves of liquid lust cascade from my young cunt and streak hotly down my smooth thighs. My virgin hole aches with passionate suspense, yearning for their rods to rush in and fill me with their vigor," I said, feeling between my legs the exact sensations I was struggling to describe.
"Disgusting! Don't stop," the priest hissed.
I felt his ear pressing against my lips as I whispered through the tiny opening in the partition. It was no bigger than my outstretched hand.
"Then, in my horrid thoughts, Father, the men press themselves against the opening of my aching virgin void..."
"Yes... go on!"
"I will, Father! Just give me a chance to tell you! The men press the fat heads of the enormous shafts against the puckering tight lips of my womanhood..."
"Your hot cunt! Yes! Go on!"
"They press their broad-headed rods against the opening of my hot juicy cunt..."
"Damn you, child! Don't stop or God will lash you with his fiery rod!"
I could not help myself at his point. As I continued my wretched confession, telling the priest the complete depths of my misery, I had to penetrate my burning cunt with my fingers. I dug into my hole, pressing my fingertips against the hot velvety walls of my cunny.
"They push their hard masculine rods into my tight little hole. Boldly, they break my maidenhead and plunge far and wide into the wanton wilderness of my womanhood..."
"Just say cunt!" he said. "Tell me how your cunt feels on their cocks. What do they feel when they are pounding their cocks into the hot hell of your hole?"
"Cunt," I said. "Well, I hope their cocks feel good in my cunt, but I cannot conjecture what a man feels. I cannot imagine how wonderful their great cocks must feel in the wet warm nest of my cunt..."
"Say twat," the priest snarled through the hole in the partition.
"You told me to say cunt," I said, baffled.
"Say cunt one time, say twat the next. Alternate," he said.
I pushed my fingers into the oozing heat of my cunt, my twat. I stirred the flooding juices as I stroked the soft interior of my infernal sex.
"The men push their long hard cocks all the way into my body, stuffing my cunt with their gigantic glory. I feel them moving back and forth in the tight channel of my cunt.
"You're getting fucked. The men are fucking you! How many men?" the priest asked, his voice rough and demanding.
I trembled with passion as I dug my fingers into my tight virgin hole and pressed my thumb down upon my tiny miracle button, the magic flesh I later learned to call my clit, which, at the moment, frankly sizzled without shame.
"Only one man," I said, my voice shaking as I massaged the interior heat of my cuntal corridor.
"You're lying! You cannot keep secrets from God!"
"No, I swear, Father! Only one man. Most of the time. Sometimes two or three, but usually I imagine only one man slamming his long hard rod into my twat, fucking me hard and strong," I said.
"All right! Tell me more!"
The priest was breathing heavily. Without meaning to, I peeped through the hole in the partition, accidentally, of course. To this day I swear by all I hold holy (which, by the way, does not amount to much) that I did not mean to see what I could not help but see.
The priest had lifted his holy robes and rolled them into his lap. I saw his naked thighs, my first glimpse of male flesh. His thighs were handsome, but I did not admire them for long, for my eyes were instantly drawn to his two hands, which were wrapped around his hairy male sex.
I saw one hand cupped on his fat swollen balls, the sight of which made my cunt hot and wet, so excited that it almost sprayed hot perfume from its lips. His balls were large globes of mystery, but even more thrilling was the sight of his enormous rod of flesh.
Never had I seen anything like it! It was long and thick. It was more magnificent than the cocks I thought and dreamed of through my long tormented evenings of helpless young lust.
I felt an overpowering gush of heat between my legs. The holy priest, the man who had told me I was damned, was pumping his massive maleness in his hands. More than anything I wanted his giant cock in my virgin cunt. I ached for his meat to break my damned barrier and fuck my even more damned cunt. I did not care about Hell. Gladly I would go there. Tonight. If only I could have his cock in my cunt today.
My cunt flooding between my tender young thighs, I decided to make my story more salacious, more vivid. I wanted to arouse the priest to such a pitch of lust that he would have to fuck my cunt with his cock.
I could not, however, take my eyes from the sight of a hand stroking the majestic length of his powerful rod. Continuing to spy through the hole, I resumed my narrative, while I spiraled two fingers within the enclosed pond of my pussy.
"The moment that their cocks penetrate my cunt, shattering my maidenhead and burying their huge hardness in my liquid heat, I feel my entire body tremble with lust. You would not believe, Father, how hot and wet my deep cunt becomes as the man's massive meat slides back and forth in the tight clutching flesh of my soft snug hole.
"I look down and see the length of his rod slamming into my body, and I am astonished that such a tiny little girlie hole as my lovely cunt can accommodate such enormity! As the man's cock slides out of my clutching cunt, I can see the blue veins on his hard cock. They pump blood up his stiff pole and make the bulbous head crimson with raging power.
"I see my hot pussy nectars coating his thick chunk of fuck meat with shining sex slime. He pushes his rod all the way into my pussy, returning it to my hungry cave. The length of his rod presses and pulsates against the pink linings of my tight slippery hole, which engulfs his cock in heat and lust.
"His cock feels wonderful in my cunt and he humps back and forth in my tight twat, getting ready... on the very verge... he is about to shoot his blast of sperm into my entrails. At that moment, Father... can you imagine? Oh, Father, my body burns with passion..."
"My child, this is abominable sin of which you speak. There is only one hope for your salvation. You must do exactly as I tell you, for God is speaking through me. God demands that you take his rod into your virgin cunt. He must deflower your maidenhead, for you are now too wicked a girl to keep your chastity," the priest spoke solemnly, already springing from his chair. I could not see his face, but I had long been awed by the size and shape of his splendid organ. His cock had tormented me with raging desire, and I had been helplessly frigging myself as I watched him pump his cock in his fist.
"My child," he said demandingly, "this is the Lord's great cock. You must ready your virgin cunt to be fucked! Stand up and press your soft buns against the hole in this partition! You are going to take this great cock into your cunt! His will be done!"
I had long since shed my cumbersome garments from my body. Quickly, my pussy dripping intoxicating syrup down my thighs, I stood on the hard wooden chair and squatted to position my cunt for his attack.
He reached one hand through the hole in the partition and suddenly jabbed it into my hot hole.
I felt a pain tear through my body at his forceful finger's entry. His finger was more brutal and demanding than mine had ever been.
The pain was great, but the pleasure was immense. His finger stroked the heated walls of my virgin cunt, but he had not yet destroyed my hymen. I knew that his miraculous stick would soon accomplish the task.
It happened sooner than I had expected or dreamed it would.
Suddenly I saw the long shaft of his magnificent male organ poke through the hole. The head of his rod was massive, fat and bulbous. His cock kept advancing through the hole, until, finally, I saw the thick jungle of his black pubic hair. Then he crammed the great bag of his balls through the opening. To perform this happy miracle, he had to force first one globe, then the other through the space, for the huge sack of his testicles was too gigantic to fit all at once.
I heard him groaning as he shoved his balls through the wall, and then I heard the sound of his thighs smacking against the surface of wood of the other side of the partition. He had pushed every inch of his complex maleness through the hole, offering it all to her as a punishment for her wicked sins.
By her I mean, of course, myself, but I was so excited I scarcely knew who I was.
I was in a total sexual delirium. Never in my life had I been so possessed by delicious demons. I did not care about perdition; I cared only about my pussy and his pulsating prick and the loathsome virginity he was going to destroy.
I was prepared for any pain in the universe, if only I could feel the great bliss I had dreamed of feeling in my cunt.
I twitched my body, aiming my hot tight hole at the fat head of his massive rod.
It was as though he were luring me into sin. He had shoved his cock through the hole in the confessional. He could move no more. He was like a fisherman who had dipped his pole into the water, dropped his line and dangled his bait. In this case, however, the bait was anything but dangling. His thick throbbing rod stood up so proud and tall that it was, at first, difficult to impale my dripping pussy on it.
I squirmed my body and lowered my hole, pressing my puckering lips against the broad top of his tall rod, which was like a great trunk of a mammoth tree. It was rooted to his body, springing like a miracle from his flesh.
I trembled with divine bliss at the mere touch of his cock's great head upon my moist succulent cunt lips. I forced my hole down on his rod and squealed with pain as the head invaded my hole.
The girth of his organ stretched the elastic diameter of my pussy. I knew that he would soon be lodged completely in my body, for I was straining every muscle and concentrating all my will on the task of engulfing his giant unholy tool in my sinful snatch.
The priest's prick pulsated. I could feel it, the one hard and lethal inch that I had taken into my body. It was hot and hard and I knew that he was as possessed by depraved lust as I was, despite his holiness. He had already made me more of a sinner than I had ever been, for I had touched his cock. I had coveted it in my cunt, which was no greater a step into evil than I had taken in my solitary bed, but now I was actually straining to suck it into the heat of my twat. He was already buried an inch, now another. There was no turning back. In my mind I had flirted with damnation; now I was eagerly embracing it in my flesh. I could not fight my desires.
Lewdly, I wiggled my body, sliding my tight cunt lips down on his shaft. To ease the entry, I tickled the childish hairs of my fourteen-year-old pussy fringe, teasing my eager flesh, making my hole drip all the more hotly and wantonly.
I strained to take his rod all the way into my hole, and suddenly I felt a terrifying agony tear through my flesh.
As the priest's colossal cock shattered the barrier of my maidenhead, I was certain that God was finally damning me. I knew that I would somehow be pushed into hell by the priest's huge fuck rod, as he shoved it all the way into my cunt, filling me with his brutal meat.
As his cock stormed into the tightness of my cunt, like an amorous avalanche plummeting into the hell of my hole, I knew that I was an anathema on God's Earth.
The pain devastated my flesh. My helpless instincts went wildly awry, and I felt as though this moment of damnation had been destined for me. God had thrown me into a vortex of temptation, testing my virtue. I had been tormented by the unbounded joys of my wanton and demanding flesh, in order to fight the devil in my flesh and to prove myself worthy of God's love.
But I had succumbed to evil. I had been too weak, too wicked. Flesh had consumed my spirit, and the priest's big, fat monstrous fuck flesh had not only destroyed my frail virtue; it had killed my soul forever.
My soul was dead, I was certain of it. But my body lived on. The soul driven out, my fleshly delights soared weightlessly to greater peaks of pleasure than ever before. The paradox was profound: the priest's cock had performed a wry exorcism, purging my life of soul or goodness to let my body have full and free reign. It was as though my soul had been the demon.
As the agony became transformed within my being to blissful and rapturous pleasure, I knew a joy more profound than I had even known as a devout and pious maiden. With all my mind and heart I knew that I was vile and evil to the core, but I was also being fucked to the core, and I had never been so close to heaven.
As I lewdly slipped my cunt lips up the long hard strength of the priest's gargantuan cock, my pleasure became mindless.
I could see blood dripping between my legs. It was the Devil's blood, or the blood of my virtue's corpse.
I was deflowered. I was a harlot. I was damned. And I was totally indifferent to these facts.
I did not care. I cared only for the feeling of my hot cunt, the delicious sensations that soared through my flesh as I banged my body against the partition, engulfing every inch of the priest's cock in my cunt.
Rapidly, I slid my tight cunt lips up and down on the fat long girth of his great rod. His staff stuffed my cunt with vitality.
I felt his meat throbbing against the tender flesh of my hot flooded hole. My cunt was full of cock, which I embraced tightly in my lubricious, syrup-coated fuck hole. My cunt was slippery and I slid lewdly up and down on his cock, feeling the wonderful heat and friction of my cunt being fucked by my first man.
As I banged my unholy box down to the thick root of his male power, I felt my buns rubbing against his hard balls. My dripping pussy fringe meshed wetly with his thick coarse pubic hair, in which his massive meat was nested.
Reaching one hand lewdly behind my back I grabbed his balls and pulled on them to force his cock deeper into my damned hot hell.
With my other hand I pressed down hard against my hot baking clit, and the ecstasy of sex rushed through my body, pumping brazenly in my veins, delighting me to a peak of heaven as it damned me to the pits of hell.
I slipped my tight cunt up and down on his cock, engulfing him in the fires of my dark forbidden inferno, a hell to which all men must plunge.
Fires of paradise flared out like flaming plumes in the purgatory of my being. I felt the great eruption of climax as the priest's cock exploded in my depraved ditch.
His white liquid heat splashed from his cock into my cunt, drowning me, striking out and lacerating the tender tissues of my twat.
I shrieked with total and delirious joy as I felt his cock blasting his fury into my fucked cunt.
Suddenly, I was plunged into a terrible abyss. Hideously, shame and dread invaded my swooning pleasure and filled my being with panic.
I knew that I had committed the vilest sin of all. I had willfully destroyed my virtue and murdered my soul. I had thrown it to the lions of my licentious cunt, which had devoured it in its insatiable maw.
My body shuddered as I wondered what form my damnation would take next.
Chapter Two
What genre of literature is this? I am sure my readers will ask, when, perhaps hundreds of years hence, they study these pages.
What will they then think of these times? How will they judge us and our civilization? We, who are so depraved, will be judged, perhaps by God, but certainly by future generations of mankind. How they will marvel at the nuns, the monks, and bishops of this dark and evil era!
Or, perhaps, they will not marvel at all. Perhaps the future will be even bleaker, more marred by turpitude, falseness and hypocrisies, duplicities and all the human horrors that sully this era in which I live.
I have no doubt that scholars of later centuries will study these pages for clues, and it is my wish that their studies will not be futile. I am writing these pages in the privacy of my candlelit chamber, not for my mere titillation, nor for my vainglorious pride. This is much more than a diary, more than a book of a blasphemous nun's memoirs. I would never bother to record my eventful life for the simple pleasure of writing. The pleasures of the flesh being such as they are, demanding and time consuming, I would never waste time on writing for sheer pleasure. These pages, which I toil upon, require time and energy, which I would far rather devote to the joy of my body, were it not for the curious fact that I am a woman with a curious streak of altruism, despite my tireless indulgence in sin.
So, my readers might ask, what is my purpose? If I am not content to scribble vainly the raw events of my life for the childish pleasure of doing so, if this is not meant to be a diary for its own sake, or a book or memoirs, what do I intend, and what do I hope to accomplish by laboring over these pages?
It is my wish to leave a document of life, not strictly my own life, but the lives of sinners and victims. I wish to leave a record, for the benefit of mankind, of what it was like to live amongst men in the world ii these evil times. From my pages future scholars, historians and men or persons of letters might be able to realize the, consequences of our tyrannical Church which exploits the very human desires it professes to deplore.
Although I am a woman who thrives on the evils of these times, I am often shocked at the stupidity of the devout and pious persons who accept the obvious cruelties and falsehoods of the Church. These, I believe, are the most wicked times the world has ever seen, and the most mad. The future, which will go either way into redemption or deeper depravity, will judge.
How the coming generations, the new world, will look upon these times, I cannot say.
Soothsaying is not one of my skills, for I am a woman of these times and no others.
Yet I wonder what future societies would think of what the priest did to me after our union through the partition of the confessional, an event which remains shocking to me to this day, albeit I have perpetrated even more vile punishments on innocent young girls.
No sooner had I attained my shattering climax in the dark and small confessional, no sooner had my flesh boiled with final throes of orgasm, than I felt the priest hastily withdraw his long embedded member from my no longer virgin cunt.
My mind and body convulsed with panic, for I knew that after such heaven I would have to suffer the agonies of Hell.
The priest had left his half of the compartment to invade mine, and I felt his strong hands clawing my flesh.
His fingers dug brutally into my shoulders, grabbing me. He seized my wrists and pulled me from the confessional.
When I saw his face I at once recognized him as Father Banday, whom I had seen many times walking on the dirt roads of our village. His image had been frequent in my nocturnal raptures, and my pussy tingled post-orgasmically as I realized that the man whose cock had often fucked me in my fantasies had indeed fucked my cunt in reality.
His hand covered my mouth and stifled all the sounds of alarm that I would have made. Alas, there is no dialogue for me to report, for I could not utter a sound. I could relate the horror that reeled in my mind, but I am sure that there is no need to convey anything so obvious. Suffice it to say that my pleasure vanished as fear and dread filled my being with their angry demons.
Pulling my body from the confessional, Father Banday dragged me down the aisles of the chapel. His two hands were in my armpits, dragging me over the altar. I saw the brilliant brocaded fabrics draped over the altar and the carved and filigreed cross, upon which the figure of Our Lord Jesus suffered most horribly. His eyes seemed to gaze with pity upon my subjected flesh as Father Banday pulled me through a dark doorway.
Never in my life had I encountered such fearsome darkness. I felt my body bumping as the priest savagely pulled me down a long flight of cold stone steps. My sandals flopped against the stone and my knees and shins bumped many times on their hard edges.
The darkness was surpassed in horror by the stench of the dungeon to which Father Banday pulled me.
The smell was of urine and years of darkness and decay, but most overpoweringly of urine. It smelled of foul fetid evil. My body shuddered with fear and panic.
I knew that I was being led to some horrid and abominable destiny, and I was utterly powerless?
Cold metal pressed against my ankles and I heard a snap and a key turning in a lock.
In the dank room I could see almost nothing, but the image of Father Banday's menacing eyes remains vivid in my memory. In the darkness I could see the whites of his eyes gleaming with a cruel glint. They were like two chinks in the darkness, letting in the bedeviled light of sin.
Hearing his heavy breathing mixed with my own desperate gasps for oxygen, I struggled to move, but I felt only coldness on my limbs. My wrists and ankles were paralyzed and a terrible chill and pressure bore down upon my thighs, my waist, my young breasts and my long, white and slender neck.
I realized that I had been chained to the wall of the chapel's dungeon. Many times I had heard dreadful stories about the labyrinthine catacombs under the chapel that connected darkly with the cold stone structures of the convent and the monastery. It had been whispered that secret services were held under the buildings, in the catacombs, the dark dank bowels of the earth.
The stories had always seemed too fantastic to believe, and I had dismissed them as the badinage of impressionable young girls. Suddenly, a prisoner myself of the fabulous dungeon, I shuddered with the unique fear of one who finds oneself caught in the chaotic unfurlings of one's worst suspicions.
I cried with alarm, but I soon felt Father Banday's palm pressed down against my lips, stifling my shocked cries. Next, I felt a coarse leather strap being forced into my mouth, like a horse bit. The leather gagged me, rendering me speechless.
The vicious hand of Father Banday slapped my tender and now tear-stained cheeks. There was nothing gentle about his slaps. They were hard and ruthless and the sting on my face was sharp.
Having just come, this very evening of my writing, from an all night debauchery, and having consumed an inordinate amount of savory victuals and an unholy quantity of wine, as well as having been joyfully fucked up the cunt and ass by seven robust young monks, I must confess that I am in no condition to relate to my readers the horrid angst that pumped furiously through my terrified heart. I hope that my readers will, in this case of my torpor, be able to extrapolate the details of my trauma. This should be easy for an intelligent and perspicacious reader to accomplish. One need only apply one's worst experience to the momentary insouciance of this narrative to empathize with my gruesome ordeal. Of course, I have no certainty that this document will be read by intelligent or imaginative persons.
As this document is necessarily of a rather salacious nature, I fear that those who, years from now, discover it will exploit its erotic angle and that these pages will be read more for prurient titillation than for edification. This would of course grieve me, but the readership of this narrative is altogether out of my control, and by the time these pages are found I will have long since perished from the Earth to cope with the fires of Hell, which, I might add, I am certain I shall adjust with cunning. I intend to be a very merry nun in the unholy inferno.
After Father Banday had chained me to the cold stone wall, gagged my mouth and slapped my stinging cheeks, he walked away without a word. I remember the dire sound of the hinge creaking as he closed the great door and blocked out all light in the stenchful dungeon.
Need I say that I found my plight highly unpleasant and that being chained to a dungeon wall is not my idea of a good time?
How many hours I shuddered in terror I cannot say. An eternity seemed to stretch out in the dark and lonely room. I heard the scurrying sound of rats on the floor, fighting for bits of offal
That year, in the last years of the Fifteenth Century, there had been many whispers about the great plague that was sweeping Europe. I had not yet seen the horrors of the plague, but it was rumored to be a rising terror in England. The carriers of the evil pestilence were said to be rats and fleas, and the sound of the horrid little feet on the stone floor made my paralyzed body quiver with even greater fear and horror.
From the sounds I could tell that they were rallying around me. There must have been at least a hundred rats. As my eyes adjusted I could see their red eyes in the total blackness of the room. My eyes took in the dark and dreadful scene. Further adjusting to the darkness I could dimly perceive the bodies of the vile creatures. They had formed a pack, and their congregation was thick.
Fortunately, my body was contorted in bondage. My legs were spread and raised from the floor, bent at the knee. A protuberance on the stone wall, a specially curved stone, pressed against my spine and thrust my pelvis out.
The rats could not attack my body as my feet were sufficiently raised from the floor, but as they formed their tormenting tribe around my bondage, I could feel an occasional tail flicking against the soles of my foot. The rats, with an almost human cruelty, used the tips of their tails like whips on the tender soles of my feet. To this day I marvel at their organized wickedness. I cannot imagine what incited the rats to attack my feet with their tails. It was almost as though the wicked ambience of the monastery had bewitched the rats and infested them with insane human lust.
Now, years later, I know that my childish idea of the rats being possessed is implausible, but at the time I could form no other explanation for the rats' phenomenal attack upon my person. Their tail-whipping of my tender feet seemed to be sinister in a devilishly human way.
The sensations of their furry tails on my feet made my young flesh shudder with revulsion. But the terror of the rats was soon augmented by the horrid flutterings of a bat over my head.
The rapid sound of the wings chopping the dank air of the dungeon made the panic in my body soar to a new peak of hysteria. The great wings kept fluttering and the hideous creature hovered over my bound flesh, terrifying me with sibilant sounds and making nausea ripple and shiver through my body and mind.
I wanted to scream, to pray to God for my salvation, or to curse Him for abandoning me to such a terrible fate. But, in my heart, I knew that God had not put me in this calamity. I knew that I should not curse God; I should curse the evils of my cunt.
In my spasming fourteen-year-old body, my terrified pubescent mind, I knew that the dungeon was an earthly hell, and that I had been dropped into the dark and foul nightmare deservedly. I was suffering no worse than I had earned. My sinful ways had caught up with me, and I was being punished for the rapacious and vile sins of my lewd young snatch. I had yearned obsessively for cocks to fuck my hungry hole, to rub the moist meat of my secret hole. I had distracted my mind from worship to concentrate obscenely on the tyrannical tunnel between my thighs. Thoughts of murdering my own virginity, my virtue, had possessed me. Finally, I had been fucked in the confessional by Father Banday, and now I was paying for my wanton lust.
The bat, attracted by the heat and stench of the priest's seed and my gushing girl flow between my legs, fluttered his wings around the young delta between my thighs. I felt the horrid vibrations of the ugly creature's wings against my young and nearly hairless pubic patch.
Terrified that the bat might lodge its beak, its head, its vile body in my recently deflowered pussy, I felt a great shudder of panic flood through my body.
Swooning with fear and horror I passed out, losing all consciousness.
I do not know how long I remained unconscious, but when my eyes refocused on the dark horrible dungeon, the rats were gone, the bat had vanished, and a ray of light streamed through the open door.
Two monks in dark hoods dragged a struggling young man into the dungeon.
The two monks were dressed in long flowing dark hooded robes which obscured their bodies and faces.
The young man was stripped. His naked flesh had been lacerated and I could see blood oozing from the suppurating welts.
Even in the darkness of the dungeon and in my humiliating and frightening bondage, my pussy began to quiver with a shameless resurgence of salacious desire. The young man's naked body made my flesh tingle with excitement. Instantly, I felt my nipples stiffen and my breasts began to glow with warmth. My cunt, however, was the most affected zone of my lascivious body.
The sight of his large cock, which was long and thick even in its normal flaccid state, aroused all the young lust that had had been banished from my body by the heinous
treatment I had received from Father Banday. But my cunt would not be dissuaded by the metal chains that dug into my tender and helpless flesh. My cunt did not care that my being was in jeopardy. It knew only its own rudimentary wishes; it wanted the young man's huge cock to plumb its anxious depths. Now that my maidenhead had been destroyed forever by Father Banday's enormous lust weapon, my hole was aching to be kept active and alive by a constant bombardment of cocks, especially huge and promising specimens of manliness such as the marvel that hung heavily from the handsome young man's tuft of crotch hair.
The two monks shackled the young man's body to the walls, chaining his arms and legs. They positioned one arm very close to his body, while they stretched the other far from his torso, chaining his wrist to a hook high above his shoulder.
The two monks gagged the young man's mouth so that his cursing tongue was rendered as speechless as if it had been cut out.
His strong lean body was securely chained to the wall opposite the one on which I was bound, and in our tormented positions we stared directly into each other's faces.
His eyes met mine and I felt a great flow of young womanly warmth in my cunt. The interior of my hole rippled, opening and unraveling my sweet wet marvels, as if in anticipation of his massive rod. My cunt, which could not comprehend the helplessness of my bondage, assumed that any cock of substance and stature was destined to fill its hot cavernous void.
The monks, telling us that they would be back with surprises, closed the great door and left the young man and I alone in the dungeon, our young bodies yearning to mesh in swooning lust.
But we could not touch. Chains and hooks held us bound to opposite walls, fifteen feet apart.
I could not take my eyes off the handsome youth. His broad shoulders and his hard and sun-bronzed chest told me that he was a field worker, for the darkened pigment of his skin testified to hours upon the soil under the sweltering sun.
His body gleamed with perspiration, which must have been from nerves alone, as the dungeon was cold. His abdomen was lean and hard and his hips were slim. His legs were long and muscled, but I was hardly looking at them, because my eyes were drawn to his cock.
As I squirmed slightly in my bondage, I saw his male spear begin to stiffen. Like a great fat snake flexing its coils, it began to rise, lifting its great weight, blood making his member soar against the laws of gravity, which were easily vanquished by the laws of our young lust and the power of my cunt, which, despite the distance between us, charmed his handsome cock.
We could neither touch nor speak, but our young bound bodies communicated in a language of magical currents. We were prisoners together, victims of the depraved church, and we exchanged glances and sympathies as our young bodies exchanged vows of friendship and signals of desire.
In the deepest cores of our beings we knew that we hungered for each other. Natural urges fought against our hateful bondage and, without speaking, we knew that in any other situation we would waste no time in uniting our bodies in wild abandoned lust.
All the urges of our young natures strove for union. As a starving animal wants food, we wanted the heat and textures of each other's bodies. His cock stiffened with basic male urges, wanting to plunge into my body and feel the tight wet embrace of my hot snug cunt. My flesh yearned to be pinned to the ground by his hard young bulk, and my cunt, aching with desire, wanted nothing more than to feel his long thick pride pushed into my moist pink heat.
When I looked into his eyes I saw the pain and outrage he could not help but feel over his entrapment, but I saw also the fervent desire of his body and soul for union with my simmering and dripping youth. His cock stood at full attention, throbbing with young male fuck urges. He was a lusty animal, and there was only one release for his burgeoning bodily tension.
When chaining the young man to the wall, the two monks had positioned the chains around his left arm in such a way that he could, straining against the chain, and tensing his body to raise it, touch his huge sex.
As I watched him squirming in his bondage to wrap his calloused hand around his huge male rod, a gushing rivulet of cunt juice flowed from my hole and streamed hotly down my moist thighs.
The very vileness of our situation made me more than ever determined to feel pleasure. It would be my only revenge on the savage priest who had fucked me and then bound me in the dungeon. I would feel pleasure if it killed me.
My cunt was hot. It was almost unbearably hot. It was like an inferno between my helpless thighs. I felt myself melting inside my hungry woman hole, aching for cock, for sex, for pleasure.
I could not have cock, not in my cunt, but I could watch the handsome young man stroking his enormous rod in his rough hand. Forming a tight fist around his swollen lusty fuck organ, the young man began to stroke his long hard meat. As he moved his hand up and down the giant shaft, I saw his heavy hair-covered bag of balls swinging like a great bell. His cock towered mightily, a great edifice of virility between his legs, as proud and magnificent as any church tower in the world. His rod throbbed with male might and potency, and I could see the great blue veins pumping the rushing blood from his balls to the huge crimson head of his steadfast steed.
He ran his hand up and down his long hard cock in great wonderful strokes, and I imagined that my pussy was his hand, his hand my pussy, and that he had rushed into my hot aching hole and filled me with his glory.
My cunt flooded hot wonderful nectars I was in an agony of amorous frenzy.
My flesh shuddered with desire for his body and outrage at my paralysis, and as my body quivered I felt the cold metal of a link in the binding chain touch the lightly furred delta of my womanhood.
Suddenly, magically inspired, I flexed every muscle that I could and tensed my spine against the convex curve in the rock, jutting my pelvis out, bridging mere inches of the great spatial chasm between us. But the affinity of our flesh bridged the gulf, and we began to take tremendous pleasure from the robust displays of our frantic young lust.
I found that I could strain my legs further apart, slide my body slightly up on the curved stone, push my back flush with the wall and contact my hot quivering young clit with the metal chain.
Watching the handsome young man massaging his great male organ, I writhed and pressed the raw red flesh of my aching lascivious sex berry against the cold metal. The contrast of the feverish heat of my clit against the cold metal sent spasms of joy rushing through my boiling blood.
I yearned for his massive meat to be thrust into the hot burning depths of my desperate hole, but we could not touch. We could only look and stare deeply into each other's admiring eyes. My cunt ached for the solid feeling of his rod. I wanted to envelop his great glory in my gushing gash, to squeeze his slab of manhood in the trough of my twat.
But we could not touch.
We could not speak.
We had only our eyes and our bodies and the dream of each other.
I gyrated helplessly, rubbing the red heat of my aching and scorching clit against his great massive man pole-in my imagination. In grim reality, I had only the cold brutal hardware to press my urgent young sex against. But I concentrated every bit of my thought and energy on his wonderful big fuck stick, and I dreamed that it was rubbing my clit as it slid back and forth in the tight embrace of my hot wet cunt.
Watching with awe as he slid his hand up and down the massive shaft of his manhood, I felt my pussy sucking him in, despite the distance between us. Yes, he was in my hole. He was there, where he should be, where he belonged, where I wanted and needed him.
I watched his giant rod slipping in and out of his tight clutching fist. I saw his huge strong hand stroking the throbbing enormity of his manhood, and I felt it straining against my tight pussy lips, bombarding my volcanic cunt, scraping the tender and lubricious linings of my womanhood.
As he began to increase the speed of his strokes, rushing up and down the thick fat length of his rod, I saw his balls swinging mightily in the air. I imagined them banging against my buns as he drove his shaft into my hot hungry oasis, fucking my cunt with his man pole.
I shuddered with hot and shivering bliss as I rubbed my sizzling clit against the cold metal of the chain that kept me from the reality of my lover and heated the coals of my imagination.
Staring at the swinging motions of his massive balls as he raced up and down the tall standing length of his cock, I felt my cunt tightening, as though I were embracing his hard glory in the tight furnace of my body. I could feel the fat swollen dimensions of his mighty flesh rod stabbing the hot void of my cunt, filling me with his masculine power.
Sin and shame and guilt and terror fled. Only joy reigned supreme in my helpless young body.
The young man's body shook with passion. I saw his chest heave and his thighs tense. Watching his mighty male balls, I saw them constrict.
Yearning to rub my fingertips against the swollen underside of his hair-covered bag of balls, I suddenly felt them against my fingers, in my palm, rubbing my skin, pressing against my rigid and aching nipples.
Climax began to rise in my blood. Wonderful hot pleasure spread out like a violent storm in my body, heating my flesh as though I were being burned for heresy in a fire that did not destroy me. Rather than burning me, it seemed to bless me. The flames did not sting, they only coated my body in wonderful heat and bliss. I felt the tide of my pussy syrup swell to majestic peaks, and vibrations of swooning lust tore through the fibers of my cumming body, as though his great wonderful fuck shaft was slashing into me, bombarding the dark forbidden tunnel between my young thighs, hammering my hot hole, filling my being with his life and power.
The speed with which he now raced his fist up and down the heroic male length of his fat throbbing shaft made my cunt boil with lust. I was ready to explode. Galloping horses ran through my blood. I was on fire, inflamed, dying, being born.
I could not take my eyes off his magnificent cock. He pumped it furiously in his hand, almost in a rage. All his strength and being were focused on his cock in his hand, and I had never been so excited in my life. Watching a handsome stalwart youth pumping his huge vigor in his hand, being bound helplessly to the wall, yearning to touch his flesh, was more exciting than being fucked. I pined for his prick. My cunt gushed hot wines of lust as I furiously ground my clit against the hard metal chain.
Waves and torrents of heat and lust stormed through my flesh. Lightning struck my cunt, my mind, my being.
One touch! One! Just one touch! I cried in my stifled soul to God, Christ, to the Devil, to Heaven and Hell and all the choirs of angels. In my darkest and most secret being I wept and wailed.
"Please, please, God, I beg you, please! I implore! I beseech! Let my hands just once caress his flesh! Let my fingers feel on their tips the fullness of his body. Just once let me brush my palm against his heavy balls and stroke his huge cock! Please! God, I beg you! Lucifer I beg you! Damn you! God damn you! Fuck! Shit! Please!!!"
But we could not touch.
Still, the great fires of lust burned in my dark secret and forbidden cunt! My clit ached and sizzled as I bumped it madly against the metal chains of my bondage. My thighs were wet with the wild flowing perfumes of my cumming cunt, and my clit sparkled and splashed joy though my body as my orgasm soared to a great peak, and kept climbing, rushing, roaring through the labyrinths and corridors of my being.
The young man pumped his massive male meat and suddenly I saw a great white splash of glory streak thickly, violently from his long fuck shaft.
His great explosion of virility jetted from his massive organ, flying from his cock and soaring through the air to a high peak before splashing to the ground.
I saw thick white trails of his seed streaking from his cock and striking his flexed and spasming flesh.
Again I cried in my soul, praying that a jet of his mighty sperm might traverse the distance between our bodies and make magic contact with my flesh. I wished and prayed and ached to feel his hot male glory on my skin.
His cock kept emptying his far-flying load of scalding sperm, and I concentrated all my being on my fervent wish.
In one wonderful and divine moment I felt the sting of a jet of his sperm strike my eyelid.
A miracle!
I felt the wonderful viscid heat of his semen on my left eyelid. Its globular texture and heat thrilled me. It began to drip slowly down my face, but a mass of it was lodged in my eye. I did not care that I could not brush it away. It was all I had wished for.
As some of his seed streaked down my face I could feel it on my upper lip, seeking its way into my gagged mouth.
My climax hit the highest possible pitch of passion, spreading shattering thrills through my hot swooning flesh.
We stared at each other as if in a magic trance, unable to take our eyes from one another.
Chapter Three
Readers of these pages will surely wonder how a not yet fourteen-year-old girl became a corrupt and bedazzling Mother Superior, a woman of great social and political power.
I shall do my best to tell this curious tale in my narrative, but I must warn my readers that I scarcely understand the mechanics of my own rather extraordinary life.
Strange fortune has played an inestimable part in my life, and the odd twists of fate are hard to account for. Alas, there is little time for a complex rendition of my life and all its marvelous events, for this narrative must be written quickly. Apart from writing a record of this time for the scholars of future generations, I do, in this narrative, have another task. I am also writing at the command of the Bishop of the diocese, who demands that I supply him a quota of pages per week. I will confess that Bishop Julius expects a certain style and nature of narrative prose and that I am beholden to adapt my story for his purpose, which is of a most sinful nature.
Bishop Julius demands that I deliver my pages by messenger every Friday of every week. He demands that the content of the pages be titillating. Yes, the Bishop reads my life story as erotica. I have been told that the orgies at his chateau make the debauchery of our priory seem almost pure. So, between my work as a procurer of young women and my duties as Mother Superior, I write lewd and depraved pages for our Bishop; hence, I am a very busy woman.
It is my hope that I might be able to write a document that will illustrate the climate of these times and show the pestilence of the world, but at the pace with which I am forced to write these pages, and given the Bishop's demands, it is unlikely that I will be thoroughly successful.
I am sure, however, that the Bishop does not concern himself overly with any but the erotic content of my writing. If this narrative strikes my readers as a succession of lewd and bacchanalian events, an assortment of depraved and sinful vignettes, I am sure that all will understand my concessions to strain, fatigue and the Bishop's demands.
To return to my narrative, from which I sometimes stray, I must convey the intensity of joy I experienced with the young man, despite our bondage.
Never had I seen a more remarkably attractive youth. His presence in the dark and terrible dungeon made the gloominess of my situation seem, for an interlude, almost a blessing.
After our glorious climaxes, which we had attained simply from staring at each other's youthful charms, he at my young and chain-bound nakedness, at my tiny breasts and my lightly furred sex, I at his lean muscularity and his massive cock, we stared at each other in post-climactic joy, astonished at each other's beauty.
Our simple rhapsodies were, however, soon interrupted.
Two monks entered the dungeon carrying plates of food. Carefully, they removed the gags from our mouths and released us temporarily from our bondage, allowing us to sit at a small table and partake of nourishment.
The food was not interesting, but I was so ravenously hungry that I devoured the plebeian rabbit stew as though it were an epicurean feast.
The monks disappeared during our repast, carefully locking the door so that we could not leave the dungeon.
The young man whose body had incited me to rub my clit against the chain from which I was now blessedly released, for the brief time being, introduced himself as Jean Lamont, a field worker from a neighboring estate. Dipping his dry loaf of bread into the stew, he told me the story of how he had been brought to the convent. As we had been brazen in our mutual lust, watching each other masturbate to shattering orgasms, he told his story with full and vivid candor.
"I was captured three days ago and brought here to repent for what the nuns call my sins. Not being especially religious, I told the nuns that I did not feel compelled to atone, but they would not accept my argument. They have been torturing me ever since I arrived, telling me that I am an evil young man, while, at the same time, they have feasted themselves on my youth.
"Let me explain how I was captured.
"Last Sunday I was working in the fields. All the other workers were attending the church services and I was alone in the fields, picking the strawberries so that they could be taken to Paris that evening and sold in the markets.
"I am paid twice the usual wages for laboring on Sundays, and so I work very hard. But the sun that day was harsh, wild, ferocious, and I stripped down to my loin cloth as I worked.
"Sweat streaked down my body as I toiled in the sinister heat. I felt as though I could faint from sheer exhaustion, even though I am a tireless worker and a strong man, as you can see from my body.
"On my hands and knees I nimbly picked the strawberries from the ground and loaded them into the wooden buckets.
"I became terribly thirsty and, knowing that there would be water for the horses in the barn, I discontinued my work and dragged my tired body through the fields, almost melting under the sun.
"It was cool and dark in the barn and the water soothed my thirst. I realized then how tired I was and I stretched out on a bed of straw, intending only to sleep for a few moments before returning to the field. Suddenly, a stream of light flooded the barn and I looked up to see a slender female figure entering through the doorway, carrying a pail in each arm.
"As my eyes adjusted to the brilliant light I recognized Lisa, one of the dairy maids. She had come to milk the cows.
"At first I was embarrassed to be clad in nothing but my loin cloth, so I tried to crawl unnoticed into the darkness to hide my body from her eyes.
"Lisa lowered the two pails to the ground and I saw that she walked as if she carried a great burden, a mental burden. She looked forlorn and downcast, and I felt a stirring for her in my heart. I knew that her father, her only living relative had been ailing for months and Lisa had worked very hard to support and care for him. The old man was surely soon to die. Everyone knew it, and his pulchritudinous young daughter was as pitied for her misfortune as she was admired for her hard work and her courage.
"Lisa advanced toward the bed of straw. I crawled backward on the pile of hay and hid my almost naked body behind a post.
"I watched the lovely young girl lower her body onto the hay. She rolled over and buried her face in her arms, and I heard her weeping passionately.
"More than anything else I wished to comfort her, to stroke her beautiful golden hair and brush the tears from her eyes with my fingers. I wanted to hold her gently in my arms, rocking her like a baby, until her pain went away. I wanted to banish her agony, for I felt that she was too lovely and good a girl to suffer as dolefully as she was.
"But I knew that my body would startle her. She surely believed that she was alone in the barn, for she would never have sobbed had she known herself to be observed. Lisa was not the kind of girl who showed emotion to win the sympathy or pity of others.
"I watched her body trembling as the intensity of her weeping increased, and my heart was touched by the sounds of her tears, her agonized mumblings. She kept repeating something about God and her father, as though one had done something to the other.
"Hurting myself with the sympathy I felt for the lovely young dairy maid, I emerged from my hiding and crept over the hay to comfort her.
"I called her name before touching her and she looked up at me in astonishment. Seeing my face she instantly began to dry her eyes and tidy her hair, adjusting her body on the bed of hay.
"Kneeling beside her, I stroked her beautiful hair, rubbing it over her gently sloping shoulders. I asked her what was causing her such sorrow, but she only shook her head and looked at me speechlessly.
"Her eyes were like two beautiful blue ponds reflecting only the goodness and beauty of the world.
" 'You look tired, Jean,' she whispered, reaching out with her pale hands to stroke my brow with her long and delicate fingers.
"The feeling of her fingertips on my sweaty brow soothed me. Her touch was gentle and kind. She seemed as concerned with my fatigue as with her own mysterious sorrow.
" 'Yes, I am very tired,' I replied. 'I have been working all morning and all afternoon and the sun is hot. More than anything in the world I need some rest. I feel that if I do not have some rest soon I shall die. But what of you, Lisa? Do not always concern yourself with others, not if you must, in the process, neglect yourself.'
" 'Oh, Jean,' she sighed, 'I am afraid I do anything but neglect myself. Day and night I dwell on my problems. I think far too much about myself, as though I am haunted by loneliness and despair.'
"The girl's frail body trembled as I stroked her shoulders. I could see the depth of her sorrow on her face and I could hear it in her voice. As she spoke, I felt as though I were listening to a sad song.
" 'What, Lisa, is the cause of your sorrow?' I asked, wanting to do whatever I could to help her.
Lisa looked at me sadly and lowered her face. A fresh tear welled up in her eye and spilled down her cheek. I brushed my finger against her face, sweeping the tear away.
"I could see that she was looking at my body. Her eye was following the line of thigh muscle, and I could almost feel the passage of her glance from my haunches to my knees.
"Despite myself, I felt my devilish cock rising inside my loin cloth. It was beginning to pulsate with life. I felt the blood rushing from all corners of my being into my aroused organ. Although I wanted to soothe and protect the girl, to comfort her, and had intended no lascivious schemes, my cock would not let my kindness operate independently of lust.
"Lisa gently lowered her hand to my thigh and let it rest upon my loins. She stroked it tenderly, without salaciousness. She seemed to be touching me as an innocent sister will touch an older brother, not knowing yet that she is a woman, that, her brother is a man, and that they are different in nature. The way Lisa touched my body, I felt as though she were a girl wholly innocent of sex, not only inexperienced, but altogether unaware that we were susceptible to a passionate current, which any minute, could raise its fiendish head.
"I felt like a savage. A young girl had wandered into the barn and I had seen her weep. I was moved by her sorrow, but my lust was moved by her body, unconcerned with her melancholy.
" 'Tell me, Lisa, so that I may help you however I may,' I whispered, urging her to confide in me, to avail herself to whatever condolences I could offer her.
" 'There is no way, Jean, that I could explain to you. I could speak to you all day, all night. We could stay together forever, without ever parting, and I could never make you understand the nature of my sorrow."
" 'And why is that, Lisa?' I asked, moving my hand down from her shoulders to the beginning of the swells of her breasts, wanting only to have one touch of her female beauty.
"Lisa did not seem to realize that my hands were creeping to her lovely young tits. Her body lay passively on the straw, and she drew a deep breath. I knew that Lisa was almost fifteen years old, but that day she looked more like a very young child. She looked almost like an infant as she selected a bit of straw and began to suck it, slipping it between her lips and making little sucking sounds.
" 'Jean, a man can never understand a woman. God has made men and women not to procreate, not to enjoy one another, but only to obsess and torment each other. I know that I shall never enjoy a man, I shall never be made happy by a man. Nor shall I ever please a man. I shall only torment and be tormented. I am tempted, Jean. Every day of my life I think of men. I hunger for men. I have never known one. My life is spent milking cows, caring for animals and tending to my dying father. I have no time or freedom for anything else. You have no idea how wretched it is to live as I do, with no one to talk to, spending every day in loneliness, living the same from one day to another.
" 'It hurts me to say it, Jean, but I wish that my old father would die. I love him, of course. He has been my only parent ever since I can remember. I never knew my mother, and my father has been everything to me. When he fell ill I felt as though I would die. I did not know how I would live, how I would breathe, without my father. But as his illness progressed and he became more and more helpless, less able to do anything for himself and more dependent on me, I have grown to hate him. I must care for him every morning, every night. During the night, when I badly need sleep to prepare myself for the labors of the coming day, I must awaken many times to see that he is all right. Often he needs water, or he messes in his bed and I must clean up. I seem to spend my life being his nurse, washing his body and his messes, cooking his food, caring for him in whatever way I can.
" 'And yet, during all this, my mind turns to the only thoughts that make me happy. I know that I have kept myself alive by one thing and one thing alone: every night as I lie in my bed I imagine and persuade myself that some day I shall have all the things I need to be happy, and that the horrors I know now will all fade into a far distance, so that I will never have to face them again.
" 'Every night, Jean, I dream and wish and pray that I may have a bit of joy in my life, for if I do not soon have some joy, I shall die.'
"I looked at Lisa's beautiful silken blonde hair, almost worshiping the way it spilled over her shoulders. Gently, I placed my hand under her chin and raised her bowed head so that I could look into her beautiful eyes.
" 'What, Lisa, do you mean by joy? What are the things you must have to be happy?"
"Lisa closed her eyes and tilted her head back so that I could see the long lovely line of her neck. A wry smile crossed her face.
" 'All I want is the simple things in life, the things that every woman is or should be given. I want a man, Jean. I want a good man to love me and to soothe my body. I want a man who will take my love. I cannot spend the rest of my life caring for an old man who does not even know that he is alive. You have no idea, Jean, how close my old father is already to death. His sight is gone, so are his ears, and he has lost the use of all his limbs. He will never leave his bed, yet he requires constant care, although he is hardly alive at all and contributes nothing to anyone.
"How different he is from the once strong and joyous man who carried me into town on his broad shoulders and told me stories of far away lands and knights and ladies and holy and unholy wars! He is now only a phantom of a man, a being no longer human. I am certain that he does not know he is alive, yet he breathes, he can swallow the food that I feed him, dropping it into his drooling mouth with a wooden spoon. He digests and makes excrement in his bed, and every night I must sweep it away, trying to make his straw pallet clean.
"My entire being trembles as I confess this, Jean, but many times I have wished to kill him! It would be so easy. I would need only to obtain arsenic from the apothecary, poison his soup, and I would be spared the dreadful sight of his dying body
" 'I know that my thoughts are wicked. Merely for thinking them I am damned, but as I am already guilty in thought, could it be far worse to be guilty in deed? It is said that a woman who yearns to fornicate, who grovels in the flesh in her mind while remaining chaste in her body, is as lewd and sinful as a woman who is indeed a harlot. It is also said that a woman who is raped and enjoys being raped is as wicked as a woman who debauches willfully. So am I not already as wicked as I would be, as I could ever be, If I physically murdered my father, who hovers daily on the slender fringe between life and death? Have I not already committed patricide in my heart? Would a dash of poison, which would relieve me in my life, make me a more evil woman? I know that I shall go to Hell, so if I must, am I not allowed a bit of peace in my life? May I not, in my doom, have a few moments of joy?
" 'All I want, Jean, is to be relieved of my horrid life and allowed a glimpse of heaven with a mortal man. I yearn to feel a man's hard flesh pressed against my own, to shiver as he breathes down my neck, to pant with pleasure as he feasts on my body, and I, swooning, embrace his manhood in my aching womanly void.
" 'But I shouldn't be speaking to you in this way, Jean, I know it. I should not be telling you these things. Yet, as I see your face and the kindness in your eyes, as I stroke your sun-bronzed thigh and feel the lines of your flesh and sinew and the sweating hair of your loins, I feel that I can tell you everything. I feel even that you might partially understand me, as I feared no one in the world would.
" 'Dare I wish that you understand and agree slightly with me? Do you think that I am very wicked for wishing my father dead?'
"I leaned forward to kiss Lisa's lovely lips. I felt the heat of her mouth against me. Hungrily, she parted her lips and let my tongue invade her mouth. I felt the warmth of her mouth, the wetness of it, and I could almost feel her hunger.
"She pressed her body against mine, and we lay on the straw locked in each other's arms, I giving her all the comfort that I could, she taking all that I could give, and giving me all the hunger she had, all the need she had, giving me the deep satisfaction of being a man to her, making her feel like a woman.
"I felt her hand pressing against the throbbing flesh inside my loin cloth. With her fingers she removed the fabric, which had been almost torn asunder by the force of my blood-engorged member, which was pulsating with lust.
"Lisa stretched out her arm and dropped my loin cloth on the hay. She wrapped her hand around my enormous stick and began to stroke it. As she touched my raging cock, she began to pant with pleasure.
"I now devoted my hands to the happy task of undressing the lovely young maid. I wanted to see her youthful charms in their fully naked splendor, to feast on her firm breasts and to worship the valley between her legs with my lips and my tongue. I wanted to enter her body with my organ and give her all the joy and pleasure that I could.
"Her simple frock and her undershift came off easily, and my cock throbbed with lust as I admired the beauty of her nakedness. The milky hue of her flesh contrasted against the straw made my cock become as hard as a rock and I needed to feel the soft heat of her body wrapped around my burning manhood.
"Since you and I have already shared secrets, Agatha, in our bondage, and will, I hope, know greater pleasure together in our freedom, I feel that I may speak to you with full candor. I hope that you will not be shocked if I tell you that I wanted to ram my hard cock in Lisa's hot young cunt, and to feel the tightness of her womanhood engulfing my rod in all her sweet wet glory.
"Lisa pressed her body close against mine and I felt her ripe young breasts rubbing against my chest. Her nipples were stiff with sensual desire, and they pressed against my nipples, and the pleasure was sudden and immense.
"I do not know, Agatha, how experienced you are in matters of physical love between men and women, but it has always amazed me, despite my considerable knowledge of sex, that men and women have nipples, and that a man's nipples, which serve no function that I know of, become stiff and sensuous, almost like a woman's.
"The nipples of my hard muscular pectorals became hard with desire for Lisa's body, and as her tits rubbed against my chest, my cock filled with blood, which pumped excitedly in the veins of my long hard rod. I felt that my cock would burst if I did not ram it into Lisa's wet womanly wilderness. My cock needed her cunt, needed the tightness of her hole, the heat and passion of it. Only her cunt's juicy embrace could keep my pulsating cock intact.
"Eagerly, I slipped a finger into Lisa's hot canal of lust. I felt the inner tissues of her secret cave cling to my searching fingers, and I pressed against her wet meaty linings, massaging the dark interior of her being.
"The slippery suction of her cunt clutched my embedded finger, and the heat and texture of her womanhood made my cock shudder with lustful anticipation as she stroked it in her moist hand.
"My shaft needed her hot female hole. I felt the globes of my balls contract in their hanging sack, desperate to empty all my raging virility into Lisa's young body.
"As my fingers explored her cunt, readying it for the invasion of my thick throbbing man-rod, Lisa bowed her head between my thighs and took me into the warm wetness of her mouth.
"Her tongue flicked the head of my organ, and I saw the expression of her face change. The sorrow fled from her eyes, which sparkled now with joy and eagerness. I watched her head as she slipped her lips down the length of my cock, until the bristles of my crotch hair formed a male moustache on her female mouth.
"With a stroke of wizardry, Lisa tightened her oral clutch around my cock, which pressed against her tongue and the roof of her mouth and stabbed her throat, and she slid her lips all the way up my shaft, puckering them at the very tip of my inflamed rod.
"Then she pressed her two hands against my buttocks and pressed me into her mouth, sliding her tight lips down the length of my rod, all the way, until I was once again buried in the heat of her face. My cock filled her mouth and her neck, and I felt the heat of her tight suction clinging to every embedded inch of my organ.
"With her mouth full of my cock, Lisa sighed with bliss as I poked another finger into her oasis. I had two fingers in her wet dripping cunt and I pressed my thumb against the heated center of her sex, her red clit, which was like a quivering jewel in its delicate sheath.
"Lisa squirmed on the straw, pressing her groin against my hand. With my other hand I explored her body, caressing her soft lovely ass and the fleshy mounds of her creamy young breasts.
"I pushed my cock all the way into her mouth and felt my balls flooding with sperm as Lisa wrapped her hand around them, massaging each globe separately and then squeezing the entire bag in her hand, kneading the pendulums of my potency.
"I stabbed my two fingers deeper into Lisa's hot wet cunt, massaging the soft pliant interior of her lust-filled body. From the way she writhed on the straw, from the way she sucked my cock, working her tongue magically on my rod and sliding her lips up and down the shaft, going down like a diving bird, soaring up my rod as though she were climbing a great ladder to heaven, I knew that Lisa was hungry and excited.
"With one hand I pressed against the nape of Lisa's neck and pushed her face down on my cock; with the other I coaxed her to swivel her body around on the straw. Slipping my throbbing cock reluctantly from her wet mouth, I kneeled between her legs, spread them far apart and rubbed my swollen rod against the moist delta between her legs.
"I slid my cock back and forth in the damp folds of her frontal flesh, moving back and forth in the furry furrows of her crotch nest. Her soft pussy hair was like a bed of feathers, a warm moist cloud tickling the sensitive skin of my determined organ.
"Desperate to shove my long hard pole into her simmering juicy pussy, I pressed the bulbous knob of my rod against her puckering lips. She was warm and wet on the outside of her hole, but I knew from my exploring fingers that she was, inside her body, a veritable furnace of desire and delight.
"I forced the head of my shaft into her furnace and felt her fevered flesh embracing my manhood. She was tight and wet and I could not easily conquer the depths of her cunt, but my cock was determined to fuck her wildly and wonderfully until she wept, no longer from pain or misery, but from total ecstasy.
"I strained my body, flexing my muscles to drill my manly meat into her womanly well. She was hungry for me, panting and sighing and moaning for me, begging and writhing, and I wanted to give her every hard inch of my power.
"Lisa pressed her hands against the straw covered ground and raised her pelvis, pushing up against my body, struggling to swallow all that I could give her in the rapacious heat of her deep dark cunt.
"As she exerted all her strength to suck my cock into the slippery oven between her thighs, I collaborated with her carnal wishes, using all my strength to force my cock into the tunnel of her yearning sex.
"I felt my cock conquer her cunt. My long pole slipped into the tightness of her body and I felt the heat of her cunt muscles clutch my rod.
"As soon as I had filled her hungry cunt with my massive manhood, Lisa released a sigh of deep visceral pleasure. She bucked her body against mine, wrapping her legs around my neck and twitching her pelvis to slip her tight womanly lips down the length of my rod.
"I felt myself swallowed by her simmering lusty hole. The heat of her cunt scorched my fully entrenched cock, and I began to rock my body back and forth, sliding my rod in and out of her tight sucking hole.
"I humped into her, filling her with each thrust, stuffing her void with my virility. She moaned and squirmed as I plumbed the raging depths of her cunt, drilling my meat into the pit of her furnace. Her cunt was wet and hot and her juices oozed from her hole, coating my rod and dribbling hotly onto my swollen balls, which swung between my legs as I drove my hammering cock into her entranced body.
"We ran our hands over every thrilled inch of each other's flesh. I grabbed her tits and lowered my head to take them, one at a time, into my mouth, while Lisa seized my swinging balls in her hand and caressed them.
"My cock rammed in and out of her deep hole, and I felt the heat and suction of her cunt. The meat of her hole was hot and tight around my thrusting rod, and as I drilled my cock into her juicy ditch, banging her with my body, I felt her hole constrict around my organ, grabbing me even tighter, drawing me deeper into her furnace as she writhed and squirmed in passionate frenzy, bucking her body, sliding up and down the length of my tumescent rod until I felt close to letting all my potency blast from my rod into her ready and receptive womb.
"I fucked her hot cunt and watched her face as I drilled her depths. A rapturous smile determined to blast her body with the broke out on her face, and she began to chant
lewd rhapsodies of lustful enchantment. I pounded her pussy with my hard, bludgeoning cock, filling her with my pulsating meat.
"Squealing with bliss, Lisa bucked her body against my banging bulk, and our flesh joined in perfect union. My rod slammed all the way into her receiving void, stuffing her with my furious power, and her cunt grabbed my cock tightly in its wet embrace.
"Lisa was delirious with pleasure and she lowered one hand between her legs and touched the red heat of her clit, rubbing it with her fingertips and she touched my cock as it slid in and out of her hot, hole.
"The thick cream of her pussy syrup coated my rod as I banged into her, fucking her with all my strength.
"Lisa pressed hard against her clit and moved her finger upon the heat of its anxious berry, making fast circular motions upon her quivering flesh, thrilling her clit with her fingers and I fucked her cunt and thrilled every fiber of her hot feverish body with my thick, fat fucking rod.
"Lisa began to shriek with ecstasy as the rhythms of my fucking climbed to a greater frenzied intensity. I began to rush in and out of her cunt, banging her hard and passionately, determined to blast her body with the triumphant torrent of my sperm.
"She grabbed my hard hammering ass and pushed me all the way into her cunt until my balls slapped against her buns.
"She threw her head back and her blonde hair spread out on the straw. Her nipples were stiff in my pinching fingers and her cunt oozed hot nectar. I could see my cock racing in and out of her burning hot hole, and I saw the girth of my great rod glisten, wet with the flow of her heated womanhood.
"My rod was buried in the depths of her dark hot hole. Boldly driving into her luscious inferno, I grabbed her lovely white tits and forced them one at a time into my mouth, sucking, nibbling and lightly biting them.
"Lisa wrapped her legs around my body and worked her body like a pulley, slipping her tight puckering pussy lips up and down on my rod, sucking me into her delicious heat, baking, my rock-hard cock in her oven.
"I plowed her pussy with my great fat cock, spearing her with my rod, drilling into her depths as I fucked her with all my power. With intrepidity I hammered my rod into her hole, stuffing her with each thrust, making her tight hole stretch to receive each deluging invasion.
"Fucking her hot cunt, I pressed my lips against her tits and ran my fingers through her hair as I watched her body surrender totally to pleasure. Her eyes glazed with lust and her cunt burned as it clung to my thrusting shaft.
"I banged her body with my bulk, pounding my prick hard and deep into her raging hole, hurling her to heights of perfect pleasure with my cock.
"Lisa pressed her fingertips savagely against the raw flesh of her clit, making delight fan out triumphantly in her body, exciting every nerve with burning bliss.
"She hit a magnificent climax, and her body shuddered as though lightning had struck.
"Squirming wildly under my thrusting body, Lisa screamed with passionate delight. Ecstasy ripped through her fucked flesh. Savagely, she ground her groin against mine and I felt the soft moisture of her young pussy fringe rubbing against my abdomen as my cock, completely engulfed in her hot wet cunt, exploded in orgasm.
"My scalding seed tore through the nerves of my long hard cock and splashed climactically into her thrashing, cumming, swooning body. I felt her cunt walls close in around my cock, gripping me in her hot clutching hole as though she never wanted me to pull away from her.
"She squeezed my balls in her moist hand and coaxed all the sperm from their contracted tension. My cock kept jetting with liquid seed, drowning her body in my scorching potency.
"United by the raptures of lust and the violent explosions of our mutual discharges, our deep satisfaction, sharing the greatest marvel of life and not caring whether or not it was a sin, Lisa and I stretched out on the straw, her slender body pinned down by the weight of my bulk above her. My cock lodged in the deep heat of her cunt, still drooling with thick creamy seed, we licked each other's cheeks, kissed and whispered endearments into each other's ears.
"We made plans together, plans that would lead to our capture by the band of monks."
Chapter Four
Jean's story had excited me to a state of agonizing lust. More than ever before my young pussy ached for cock. But as the young man gnawed the stringy rabbit flesh and lavished me with his tale, he seemed to have no other concerns in the world but what he could put into his mouth and the words that he could get out of it. He seemed completely content with eating and talking, talking and eating, and every time I opened my mouth to interject he would reach across the small table and press his finger to my lips, silencing me.
Remembering the torrent of sperm that he had released from his cock while he masturbated in his bondage, watching me rub my inflamed clit against the cold metal chain, racing him to climax, it occurred to me that he had exhausted his supply for the time being and had no drives of lust in his body, and would not have for some while.
I believed that he wanted to put his massive maleness to work in my yearning cunt. I did not think him malicious enough to excite me to a peak of frenzy and let me ache unattended. As he spoke, I became certain that he was almost innocent of the lewd effect his narrative had on my body, how the sound of his voice and the pungency of his words made my young hole simmer and drip hotly with desire and need.
In a typical male fashion, Jean, his lust soothed and his sexual instincts calmed and resting in his body, was unaware of my highly aroused state. Untortured by the needs of his cock, he did not even notice that my nipples were standing stiffly at the peaks of my breasts and that I had reached quietly under the table to caress the opening of my hole with my eager fingers.
I have always marveled at the good fortune of men, although I wonder in what insane mood God designed man and woman in such different ways so that their lusts are more often at odds than in harmony with each other.
Men are lucky in that they can exorcise the demons of their lust quickly. Once the sperm has splashed from their magnificent organs, they can remain satisfied for hours or even for the length of a day. They can devote their minds and energies to other matters, their heads free of the torments of lust, clear for contemplation of purer things. Women are never so lucky. We cannot simply empty our bodies of all tensions by releasing a great blast of liquid. Women's pussies drip incessantly, always hungry for men. God has designed us cruelly, making us aware, every moment of our painful lives, of the burning voids between our legs, the incessant demands of our yearning furnaces, the driving desperation of our hot cunts.
What lunatic designed humanity? What kind of fiendishly vindictive god would create such paradox as a being that cannot escape the clamorous demands of flesh?
Although I pose in the world as a pious nun, I live in repugnance of God, who has given me a cunt, a source of constant ache and only occasional joy, for the needs of my hungry hole, even if I am fucked many times in a single day, are never fully sated. As a woman, I never know a moment's peace. My appetite makes its tireless demands upon my mind, so that I can never forget the demons of my desperate itch.
Men have their mighty organs, which extend from their bodies. A cock is an appurtence. As such it is almost an extra part of the male body. It does not crawl into his body, it is not a void, a hole. It does not ripple into his flesh, pleading to be stuffed.
I believe that men can occasionally, for many hours a day at the least, live independently of their mighty rods. Although they are always hanging, as are their wonderful balls, from their bodies, men's cocks do not torment them as do women's deep insatiable holes. A cock can invade a woman's body, give her an interlude of bliss while the man takes all the joy he needs from the woman. Then he is free. A woman is never free. I think it is for this reason that men achieve more power in life and do greater things. To men sex must be a tangential part of life, whereas it is, for less fortunate women, forever integral.
It is for this reason only that I have developed my passionate hatred for God and the church. In his design of woman the Lord has demonstrated utter madness. I can only conclude that. He is either cruel or careless or stupid. When he made the utter chaos of woman, Our Lord acted either as a silly child with a pen, paper, but no technique of drawing, no considered vision; or, craftily, he deliberately devised women as creatures to suffer. With a vindictive twist of his knife he carved a hole in the center of her carcass and decreed that this aching passage should suffer throughout the woman's life.
Having debated the two possibilities for years within my tortured mind, I have come to be certain that our Lord, who, after all, is omniscient and omnipotent, deliberately designed woman to ache and suffer. For his cruel amusement he hollowed our bodies and blew the breath of constant hunger and desire into our minds. He constructed us from Adam's rib for the amusement of males, who are his sons and brothers.
The sequence of creation has always infuriated me. Perhaps my readers will not have dwelled on the unfairness of God's preference for Adam over Eve, for, in our worship, we tend to forget that God is, for all his immortality, male, a man like any other.
He created Adam and let the man wander amongst the creation, alone on Earth. Man has experienced deep solitude on Earth, the satisfaction of being alone and complete within his sex, having no need of the outlet of woman.
Adam lived alone on the Earth, and, as a result of this sequence of creation, man has always retained an independence from woman. Before Eve was created, when Adam was alone in the Earth, he had no knowledge of the female body and its tempting charms. If he had the need to blast his seed from his organ, he could shake it firmly in his fist and scatter his potency upon the Earth. This was surely enough for man, for by the skill of his hand he could release the sperm and tension from his body. It was only after women were created that man began to crave the snug embrace of a woman's cunt.
Man lived alone on the Earth and knew the joy of being complete within himself, and all men keep a memory of this time within their beings, in the private corners of their minds, to which they retreat from time to time, detaching themselves from women. One reason that men tend to enjoy each other's company more than the company of womankind is that all men share a capacity for solitude and independence which women have never known, and never shall be able to know, for woman came second into the world, and has never known the male privilege of roaming the earth alone. When she came into being, she came as a gift from God to man. When woman was created, Adam was already the global king.
Men share a male secret, the knowledge of the Earth in all its novelty and joy and terror. The astonishment of his first day alone on Earth has never been forgotten by Adam, nor shall his sons ever forget it. It is as much a part of their beings as their blood or their balls. The secret, which they have as an advantage over women and would never share even if they could convey the wonder of it, is theirs, and it is a powerful secret, which will forever keep them apart from women, perhaps even, sometimes, against their will.
In my heart I detest the God who has given men this secret over women, and who has made women suffer the indignity of never having a moment of her own upon the Earth, never a chance to look into herself without knowledge of men. As soon as woman was created she was made aware of cocks, and she has thought of nothing ever since. Men, who have been alone and who pass the memory down the bloodlines of their kind, had a great beginning in life, wherein they knew nothing of women. Their first thought was of the world itself, the great miracle of life. Thus men know what it is to think of other things and they may think of women only when they choose. Women have no choice: they must think of men and of cocks every moment of their lives, and they must always ache for them.
As I detest a God who would create such injustice, who would create Eve only to make a joke of her and to mark her life with an absurd and obscene destiny, I abhor a church that would devise idiotic canons to honor such unholy caprices. The Church, in its groveling insanity, has slapped woman's soul again. Like a sculptor creating rigid forms at the instruction of a blind and malicious mute, the Church tells women than their bodies are sinful and their desires depraved. God has created the vacuum between women's thighs, has made it heat and drip and torment, only so that the Church may call it wicked. The Church tells us that the desires which God has cruelly given us are vices to be overcome. We are told that we have been tormented so that we may struggle to overcome temptation and prove ourselves fit for Heaven.
Foolishly we deny ourselves every instinct, despise ourselves when we stray from the laws the Church has decreed, only so that we may overcome temptation, prove our love for a God who despises us and gain admission into a heaven full of souls who have suffered as we have, died and come to Heaven and found that there are yet another set of rules to be obeyed.
God has made the lives of women a wretched joke, and yet he expects us to live in shame of our desires, eschewing the poignant aches of our flesh so that we may come to Heaven and be as bitter there as we were on Earth.
It is madness, total madness! I often imagine the herd of sour souls that must shriek in Heaven. Should we on Earth ever hear the angels sing we would recoil in horror at the cacophonies of their chants. Should they ever write their own hymns, the lyrics would be rancorous.
My resentment of such a God and such a church is at the root of my corruption and my burning anger at life. I owe my ambition to my hatred of the cruelty and injustice with which God made women and with which the Church respects his foolishness.
Often I even burn with bitterness toward men, loathing their natural ease in coping with life. Men, sharing as they do their deep secret knowledge of Adam's first solitary days on Earth, live with a knowledge of the world that women will never have. All women must sometimes feel, as I do, a hatred in their hearts toward the arrogance of men.
But woman, created in the second act of God's farce, is a more developed creature than man. She is a little more removed from the rudiments of creation, a little less of an animal than man, whose father, Adam, lived among the beasts with no human companion. Hence, woman is a weaker, more dependent, but more cunning creature.
Our only consolation is to use our cunning for our own ends, to torment men with our cunts. We must constantly distract men from their memory of their time alone on Earth; we must make men incapable of living without the sweet juicy holes between our legs. We must tease, taunt and torment men, and make them give us all that we can get from them. We must lewdly spread the lips of our hungry cunts in front of their eyes, rubbing our tits and letting our eyes glaze with pleasure. We must delight in our bodies, and expose men's eyes every moment to the red inner heat of our holes.
We must make men jealous, we must deceive them. We must make men think that we do not need them, that we can create our own pleasure, that our cunts and our clits can live without them. Women must make men envy their bodies, hunger for us as we hunger for them. We must constantly pique their curiosity, making our cunts gape and exude perfumes of lust. We must stroke our clits in front of them and make them wonder what pleasures surge through our flesh.
For it is only by such cunning that we will keep the flickering flame of their desire burning. Men can easily live without us, but we must never let them know it. It is actually more deeply in their nature to spend their lives amongst themselves. But we must constantly work against this nature, persuading them that their flesh cannot live apart from ours.
If we fail in this task they will tire of us, and we will perish without the glory of their cocks.
It was this very quality of masculinity that young Jean, after squirting his seed as I bumped my hot young clit against the cold metal chain, displayed as he dwelled on the details of his story without paying any heed to the desires that rippled through my being. My cunt convulsed with the need to be fucked again, having been initiated to the wondrous and wild joys of lust by Father Banday hours or days ago. I knew not how long I had been trapped in the dungeon, how long I had writhed in bondage. I knew not what time had passed since my defloration, but I knew that my no longer virgin cunt was ready for the great shaft of a man. My not yet fourteen-year-old body ached for more hot lust. My cunt was starved for cock. Given my freedom, I would have snatched any handsome man I could find and pushed him quickly into the deep cavern between my legs.
Jean clearly delighted in his vivid narrative. Had he known the effect of his words upon my body, had he felt the desperate current of helpless lust in my young, newly deflowered fuck-hole, he would perhaps have been even more cavalierly amused.
The stew had grown tepid and my cunt was in flames when the monks interrupted Jean's far from finished tale.
They rushed into the room to remove the paltry dinner. Treating us like animals, they did not even supply finger bowls. We had to live like pigs, licking our greasy fingers clean.
The monks closed and locked the door behind them as they left. Assuming that Jean and I would again be alone for a moment, I reached under the table to touch his cock, hoping to get his mind off Lisa's cunt and his cock into mine. I did not know who this Lisa creature was (except, of course, I understood that she was a murder-plotting dairy maid with bigger tits than I could offer) but I felt a deep resentment for her. She had been fucked by the man my cunt ached for. If ever I saw her she would need all the luck in the world, for I would rejoice in humiliating or even killing her.
No sooner had I wrapped my hands around Jean's cock (which, having exploded and emptied all its sperm, was surprisingly boring to the touch, not nearly as thrilling as I had imagined. But I was certain that I would be able to arouse him again and feast on the full swollen glory of his huge hard rod) than another door at the opposite end of the dungeon opened, revealing a long passageway and three nuns in black habits moving through it, coming into the dank room in which Jean and I were captured.
Instantly, I recognized the three nuns, despite the wimples which slightly concealed their features.
The tall woman was Sister Gervaise, the Mother Superior of the priory; the voluptuous young woman was Sister Francoise, and the tiny waif of a creature was Sister Nathalie, of whom the village boys often spoke lewdly, saying that she engaged in sodomy in the bushes of the convent with the gardeners, choirboys, or any male she could get. The boys said that her asshole was more delicious than any woman's cunt.
"Harlot!" Mother Superior hissed. "Your filthy soul is damned to the fires of Hell. Get your God damn fucking hands off that big cock. For your vile lust you will suffer in your afterlife and you will be reincarnated as a snake!"
Wickedly, Mother Superior raised her hand to my face and delivered a brutal slap. I wanted to kick her in the cunt, but I was terrified of her power. She was a hideously cruel woman. It had been whispered that she supped on aborted babies.
When she raised her ugly boot to kick my tiny young tits, I became bold with courage.
"You can go straight to hell, cunt!" I shouted, the tears burning in my eyes and spilling down my cheeks.
"Piece of shit!" she hissed, seizing her huge crucifix in her hand and spanking my tits.
"Asshole!" I shrieked, weeping with rage.
"Heretic! Sinner! Harlot!" she said, knocking the small table over, and jabbing her knee against my vulnerable cunt.
"You are a witch! God made you for people to laugh at! You're a joke!" I wailed helplessly. "You're a pitiful nun who deserves to be strapped to a flaming cross and beaten to a pulp!"
Mother Superior gestured to her companions, Sister Francoise and Sister Nathalie. "Tie this cunt up in chains. Put her back in her miserable bondage so that she will watch us as we feast our holes on this man!"
"No!" I cried with hate and venom in my heart. "You can't do this to me!"
"Wanna bet?" she snapped, already taking Jean's cock in her hand, kneeling on the stone floor as before an altar and taking it suddenly into her mouth.
"As God is my witness, you will rue the day you were born, cunt!" I hissed, meaning it from the bottom pit of my heart.
"I think you'd better be made silent, Agatha. You've always been a loquacious bore! How a young girl like you became so garrulous so early in life, I don't know. It's a symptom of your vanity. Talk is vanity, and the more you talk the more God hates you. You are damned, honey! You're really damned. You've had it as far as God is concerned!"
"Shut your ugly face," I cried, rivulets of tears streaming down my face as I watched Mother Superior sucking Jean's big cock, which was stiffening despite the odious nature of Mother Superior's character. I would rather be forever chaste then suffer the vile indignity of her tongue on my clit. I would not let my clit surrender to the dishonor of being licked by the tongue of so heinous a bitch.
Mother Superior, slurping on Jean's hardening rod, mumbled to the two nuns. "Tie this bitch up. Get the chains around her body, and arrange them so that she can't rub her clit against anything. That's right, Agatha! I watched you through the peephole in the wall. I saw you frigging yourself against the chain while this healthy young animal jerked himself off. I saw you wallowing in your dirty lust. You writhed like a rutting hog! But this time you're not going to have any pleasure."
As the two nuns dragged me back to the chains on the wall and began binding me, I felt flames of hatred rise in my heart and rivers of loathing rage in my veins. I was determined to feel pleasure at any cost.
As I felt the cold metal chains tightening around my newly bound flesh, I watched Mother Superior swallow the swollen enormity of Jean's massive meat in her maw. She grunted like a pig at a trough, and I marveled at the obscenity of her lust. She was a wicked and depraved bitch.
"A pox on your pussy!" I hissed.
Then I felt the dreadful gag tightening around my face, making speech impossible.
Mother Superior, her face full of Jean's pulsating prick, gestured to the two nuns, bidding them to come towards her.
She reached up the balloon-like sleeves of her habit and withdrew the two most amazing objects I had ever seen in my life.
The were long poles of varnished wood and they had been carved excellently to resemble the organs of heroically well-endowed men. They had knobs the size of my young fist and the shafts were long and thick. At the base of the extraordinary objects the wood had been carved to resemble massive testicles, the way they appeared in the glorious moment before the male shoots his sperm into the woman's body. They were like taut bags of sperm-loaded balls and the carving had been done with such skill that the objects almost appeared to be flesh.
Thin slits had been carved at the base of the incredible things and leather belts had been forced through them so that the dildoes could be strapped around a waist.
The wooden phalli were the same size as each other, and almost the same size as Jean's authentic rod, which was, however, slightly larger and much handsomer.
"Strip, sisters, and strap these on!" Mother Superior commanded, wiggling out of her habit as she spoke.
The three nuns disrobed quickly, shedding their outer and their under garments, but not removing their wimples or their ornamental crucifixes.
I was surprised and more than a little annoyed to see that Mother Superior had an almost divinely beautiful body.
Her breasts were ample, firm and full. They stood up proudly. No one, no matter how deeply one loathed her, could say that her breasts sagged even a little. I would have liked to say that they were hideously ugly udders, but they were like buds that had grown and ripened without bursting. They were fleshy and beautiful and her nipples were large and lovely, rigid and excited.
Her body was slender. The lines of her form were exquisite. Her waist was tiny and her hips were undulant without being at all over-abundant. Her thighs were creamy white and her legs were long.
How I would love to report that her buns were fallen faded glories. But they were round and firm, without a dimple.
Her crotch was thickly furred and the hue of her beaver was a luscious red. Sucking Jean's cock, Mother Superior reached between her naked thighs and fingered her pussy lips. When she pinched the succulent puckering flesh in her fingers and pried the lips of her hole apart, I could see the moist meaty interior, red and ripe and ready for fucking.
"Get that dildo on, Nathalie, and get it into my asshole. This man is going to shove his cock in my cunt, and I want you to bugger me with that big fat wooden rod!"
Sister Nathalie, who probably wanted to be sodomized herself, was a tiny young girl, barely a novice. She was not as tall as I am, nor was developed in the chest. Her boobs were like barely ripe apricots and her sex was almost hairless. Her skin was stark white and her flesh was soft and delicate. She truly looked like a little seraphim, and it was almost amusing to contemplate such a tiny jewel of a creature shoving a fat dildo up Mother Superior's asshole.
Tightening the leather belt around her very slim waist, Sister Nathalie stretched her naked body out on the cold stone floor, slipping her young legs between the lean thighs of Mother Superior, who was still kneeling on the floor, sucking Jean's cock and bouncing her voluptuous tits in her hands.
"Shove it in, sister! Get that big hard rod into my tight hot ass and fuck me!" Mother Superior barked lewdly.
Little Sister Nathalie clenched her young buttocks together and pressed the broad head of the wooden dildo against the dark gateway to Mother Superior's deep anal abyss.
"His cock is read to fuck my cunt!" Mother Superior groaned pleasurably, kneading her knockers.
While little Nathalie was trying to push the dildo into the depths of the older nun's bum, Mother Superior stood up, pulling Jean close to her.
As she changed her position, little Sister Nathalie looked over her shoulder at me, inspecting my bondage. A curious expression crossed her face, and I did not know how to read it. She seemed lascivious, as though she desired me, and I felt a current of sympathy between us. Then, the little girl shrugged, as if she were telling me that she did not want to bugger Mother Superior with the dildo, but that she had to do what the bitch commanded.
As Nathalie pushed against Mother Superior's body to penetrate the nun's shit-hole, the sodomized woman spread her thighs apart, standing on her toes, and grabbed Jean's enormous and throbbing fuck rod.
She wrapped her hand tightly around his balls and aimed his cock at the opening of her snatch.
Jean, lusty as a hound, flexed every muscle of his body, grabbed Mother Superior's big tits and prepared to drive his dick deep into her hot ditch.
As Mother Superior prepared her soul for double fucking, voluptuous Sister Francoise tightened the leather belt around her waist and placed both hands on little Sister Nathalie's fresh white asscheeks.
I watched the lewd orgy begin.
Sister Francoise reached for Nathalie's pussy lips, spread them with her fingers and pushed the head of the dildo brutally against the tight opening of the young nun's tight twat.
Jean drove his long hard cock deep into the wet cave of Mother Superior's cunt.
I saw an animal grin break out on his face as his cock rammed into her hole and he felt the heat of her unholy embrace on his embedded rod.
Mother Superior groaned with pleasure as Jean pumped his hard meat into her insatiable twat and little Sister Nathalie fucked her asshole with the big thick wooden dildo.
"Fuck me, savage beast!" Mother Superior shrieked, wrapping her arms wildly around Jean's neck. "Pound your sinful cock into my cunt! Fuck me! Get it all the way into me! Stick it in my cunt! And you, Nathalie, shove that thing deep into my shit box. Fuck me with that dildo, damn you! God will send little nuns to His hot Hell if they don't give their Mother Superior a good time! If you know what's good for you little cunt, you'll make the dildo do its magic in my deep dark asshole!"
Nathalie, inspired by something akin to the fear of God, began to slam the dildo brutally into Mother Superior's hot hungry ass. While she drove the wooden dick into the older nun's butt-bucket, pounding the interior of Mother Superior's licentious body, little Nathalie gyrated, moving the hot creamy bowl of her young pussy around on the enormous dildo that Sister Francoise had pushed into her cunny.
As Jean and Nathalie pounded Mother Superior's lewd hungry holes with a huge authentic man rod and a hard wooden idol, Mother Superior's body squirmed and vibrated with pleasure, and her crucifix swung on her body. With each thrust of cock or dildo into her cunt or ass the crucifix sprang from her bosom and then fell back, slapping her tits.
"Holy shit! Fuck! Ahh, damn it! Damn it to fucking Hell! Fuck my cunt! Fuck my ass! Fuck my holes! Fuck me!" Mother Superior moaned and shrieked, obviously possessed by the cunt-licking, ass-rimming devils of sexual depravity.
"Hot cunt!" Jean barked like a wild animal, banging his long hard meat into the older nun's deep twat.
I could see his body humping his hardness into her fucking box, and his balls swung weightily, slapping against her thighs as he fucked her cunt with his cock.
Mother Superior was in such a feverish state of bliss that you could have told her that the world was coming to an end in a minute and she would have only tried to hit climax before the doom.
Sister Francoise, obviously mesmerized by the sight of Jean humping the older nun's cunt and entranced by his hard, hairy male buttocks, withdrew from Sister Nathalie's cunt and scooted between Nathalie, Mother Superior and Jean's legs, darting to the other side of the fleshy mass to taste the fucking man's body.
As she rubbed her tongue against the small of his back and then down to his dark asscrack, Jean growled with bestial male lust.
He reached an arm behind his body and pressed against Sister Francoise's skull, pushing her lips hard against his asshole.
Sister Francoise began to lick his asshole, flicking it with her tongue, which she moved in rapid circles around his hairy butthole.
As Sister Francoise moaned with delight at the taste of Jean's sweaty ass, little Sister Nathalie, hammering the long hard dildo into Mother Superior's shit ditch, reached between the older nun's legs and grabbed Jean's balls.
Humping his tumescent and throbbing rod into Mother Superior's hot cunt, Jean roared with savage delight, pounding and thrashing his bulk against the older nun's flesh and against Sister Francoise's mouth, as her tongue drilled delightfully into his butt.
Little Sister Nathalie brutally buggered Mother Superior's bunghole with the wicked dildo, but as she thrust into the depths of the nun's dark anal pit, the young nymphish nun continually looked over her shoulder, staring at me with an expression that more and more clearly conveyed concupiscent carnal desire. I could understand little Nathalie's infatuation with me, for I was a dazzling fourteen-year-old, and a frolic with me and a dildo would have to be more fun than Mother Superior's ass. In fact, I could not understand why Jean was giving her such a thoroughly good fucking, for surely he would have preferred to fuck my newly deflowered pussy or my still very virgin asshole. I assumed that Jean, despite his robust physical virility, was too cowardly to declare his quite natural preference for my juicy holes over Mother Superior's lovely but-to put it gently-mature dung ditch. What normal man would not rather shoot his sperm into the hot oasis of a young girl than into the cunt of a nun who was at least five and twenty. In fact, I would have hated to have been alive since her twat started sprouting hair, for I would then be at least eighteen and no longer a silky child newly discovering the passion of lust.
His manifest temerity, his reluctance to tell Mother Superior to fuck off in plain language, made him lose points in my estimation, although I could not help being awed by his sharp masterful thrusts into Mother Superior's snatch.
He humped her body like a stallion mounting a mare. His hard butt drove his enormous dick deep into the nun's hole, and as he banged her box he kept smacking his butt against the sucking face of voluptuous Sister Francoise, who licked his asscrack and rimmed his hole as she stroked her nipples with one hand and, with the other, pressed the raw red flesh of her hot aching clit, shrieking with pleasure.
Mother Superior, spasming with mounting pleasure, being fucked out of her mind, barked at the ass-licking young nun with the big tits.
"Don't let the dildo go to waste, Sister! Unstrap it and hold it by the balls in your hand. You can fuck my mouth with it while you lick this fucking man's ass. I want every hole full of huge hard rods! I want to feel as though God's great staff is fucking every hole of my soul!"
Sticking her tongue into Jean's ass and rubbing her lips against his humping butt, Sister Francoise unstrapped the leather belt and raised the giant wooden fuck pole to Mother Superior's lips.
Hungrily, greedily, like a lewd and obscene glutton, the older nun opened her lips, almost as though she were yawning, and lurched her head forward to take the long dildo, still dripping with little Sister Nathalie's hot creamy cunt juice, into her mouth and all the way down her throat.
Sister Francoise, over-heated with lust and busily gobbling the pungent flesh of Jean's hard and divine male ass, brutally rammed the long wooden fuck stick into Mother Superior's face, and as Jean slammed into her cunt and little Sister Nathalie brutally slugged her asshole with the mammoth dildo that was strapped to her little waist, I felt my pussy shudder and cream with malicious joy.
The slutty Mother Superior, the sanctimonious troll, was getting her fill of cock and big fucking facsimiles. Her three fuck holes were being assaulted, by Jean and by two little nuns with great big dildos, and even though I was bound and unable to touch myself, I became hot and wet in my cunt and my clit quivered with jolly joy as I watched Mother Superior being fucked like a whore in her cunt, her ass and her gulping, gagging mouth.
But I wanted more. I was in a state of nervous ecstasy, hovering like a bewitched woman on the fringe of total climax. My clit yearned for a touch. I was so hot and wanting I would even have let Mother Superior touch it with her long fingernails. Yes, I was so utterly frenzied with rioting sensuality, I would have let the hypocritical harlot lick me with her pointy tongue. I would have let her flick the pulsating red berry of my sex with her tongue, and I would have let her kiss my ass.
Burning with desire, I stared at little Sister Nathalie, catching her eye when she turned again to look over her shoulder at my bound body. I contorted my face so that I would melt the little nun's heart. A girl so lovely could not, I thought, be wholly corrupted, not yet.
And my cunning worked. The lewd little nun withdrew her body from Mother Superior, who was getting so savagely fucked by Jean's huge and wonderfully real fuck meat, and by the dildo controlled by Sister Francoise's hand, that she would not miss a fat dildo in her asshole, or, if she did, it would not kill her.
Mother Superior was delirious with bliss. She was shrieking obscenities and blasphemies at the top of her lungs, gasping between curses for air, panting like a rutting swine, grunting gleefully as she bucked with great abandon against Jean's body, meeting each violent thrust, engulfing his mighty man rod in the wet maw of her hot cunt.
Little Sister Nathalie separated herself from the debauching threesome and, the big dildo extending from her young body, advanced toward me with her pink lips parted in a lascivious grin.
Chapter Five
As the darling little nun stroked my tits and pressed her moist mouth against mine, I saw Mother Superior reach behind her body and search her asshole, trying to find the dildo that I lured away. Apparently she could perceive the hollowness of her anus, but in the lascivious delirium of her cuntal or oral trance she could not quite figure out what was going on. The dildo that Sister Francoise shoved into her mouth prevented her from moving her face, for she was not about to give up a moment of pleasure.
I opened my mouth to receive the delight of little Nathalie's tongue. We pushed our tongues into each other's warm wet mouths and rubbed our luscious lips together in a seal of loving lesbian lust.
Fondling the sweet darling nun's tiny titties, I felt my pussy drip with juice. I did not care whether my lust was forbidden or depraved. I cared only that my young sexual anxieties be soothed by the sister's sweet attentions.
"Please, be an angel," she whispered shyly into my ear. "Strap the dildo onto your groin and fuck my asshole! Please, I beseech you."
The little nun kneeled on the cold stone floor and folded her hands in prayer. She bowed her head and prayed as devoutly to me to indulge her in sin as she would pray to God Himself to forgive her for sinning.
Delighting in her fervent worship of my bound body, I smiled benevolently upon the darling little nun, who had begun to unstrap the dildo from her body.
"Yes, fuck my ass," she murmured, wrapping it around my body.
First she had bound me, then she had gazed at me with yearning. She had stolen away from Mother Superior's ass, disobeying high authority; she had removed the dreadful bridle from my mouth, planted a kiss on my lips, and now she was strapping the dildo around my body.
If I could persuade the little cutie to unfasten the horrid chains that bound my body to the wall, everything would be perfect.
"Undo these chains so I can bugger you properly with this dildo," I whispered into her ear.
"Oh, no, I dare not," she said in a hush. "Mother Superior would flog me to a pulp."
"Does she dare to touch your darling little body? That harlot hog!" I hissed.
"Yes, the pestilential cunt! She flogs us all, with whips, with dildos, even with the holy cross. And she sacrifices us to the monks, the bishops, who treat us terribly. Their tortures are so vile that we have to force ourselves to have orgasms," little Nathalie whispered, turning her back to me and pressing her ass down on the enormous dildo, which was not tightly tied to my body.
"You poor sweet thing," I said, watching the young nun's tiny asshole slide down on the enormous wooden fuck pole.
"Yes, we are treated abominably in the convent. I was abducted from my home when I was twelve years old. I was raped by the nuns with massive dildos, my maidenhead destroyed; then the monks took turns on me, fucking this hole and that, day after day. Utterly beside myself with confusion, I allowed them to seduce me into the order. They collected a dowry from my father, in addition to the ransom money they demanded for my return, which, obviously, never transpired."
As she whispered her story, which was barely audible, for she panted and gasped between phrases, Sister Nathalie bounced up and down on the long hard dildo. I could see her asshole wrapped around the great chunk of wood, which protruded awesomely from my groin, standing vertically and tall, almost perpendicular to my bound body. I could not move, so it was impossible for me to hump the hot little nun's hole, but she made up for my paralysis by jumping wildly up and down and squirming madly around on the huge hard phallic pole.
"And what they do to me," Nathalie whined in pleasure, sliding her tight anal lips up and down on the thick throbbing shaft, "they do to all the little girls. In this entire convent not one nun is a virgin, except for Gertrude, who really did have to become a nun because no man but Christ would ever marry her, she's so hideously ugly and deformed and boring. Nor is there one celibate man among all the monks. Don't be misled by the crosses that hang from nuns' necks; every nun in his convent has a dildo up her sleeve."
"Shocking!" I said. "Its blasphemy!"
"Of course it is," Nathalie cried, bouncing up and down on the dildo, making it race in and out of her hot asshole.
As Sister Nathalie banged her buns against the dildo, the base of the huge rod bumped against my cunt lips.
"Move the dildo a little, please," I begged, wanting the great wooden balls of the base to invade my cunt while Nathalie slid her tight asshole up and down on the shaft.
Understanding my plea, Sister Nathalie reached behind her back and adjusted the dildo slightly, lowering the rubber strap on my body and letting the giant balls enter my hot engulfing twat.
As I felt the hard wooden bag of balls enter my tight cunt, I lifted my eyes from the dildo for a moment and watched Mother Superior getting slugged in the cunt by Jean's colossal cock and Sister Francoise's dildo.
Mother Superior sucked the huge dildo hungrily in her mouth, racing her puckering lips up and down on its long shaft, rubbing it with her tongue as though she were determined to suck hot sperm from a chunk of wood, which is like trying to squeeze a tear from a stone or sympathy from a testicle.
Mother Superior rubbed her naked body lasciviously against Jean, whose huge cock slammed in and out of her hot wet cunt. He growled with bestial pleasure as Sister Francoise rubbed her tongue against his dark hairy asscrack, delving into his hole. The voluptuous nun with the dildo rubbed her large fleshy tits against his hard hairy thighs as she spat into her hand, coating her palm with glistening saliva and wrapping it around his huge bag of giant balls.
Jean banged his rockhard fuck rod brutally into Mother Superior's hot twat, fucking her cunt like a wild raging bull.
Little Sister Nathalie reached behind her back, groped my cunt and slipped two long delicate fingers into my burning cuntal cave. She stroked the hot interior of my young womanhood, and, as she writhed with her fudgey bung hole embedded on the gargantuan wooden phallic staff, the heat and the moisture of my cunt drove her wild with bliss.
Taking care not to disengage her asshole from the dildo, the nubile nun stretched her leg, sliding her foot across the floor.
Putting her foot to the service of clever magic, Sister Nathalie dragged Mother Superior's black habit across the stone floor. The older nun was so delirious with sweating, swooning sex joy that she would not have noticed if a lightning bolt had struck.
Clutching the garment between her toes, Nathalie raised it from the floor and dug her hands inside the pockets, extracting the key.
Twisting her body carefully so as not to separate her asshole from the dildo, the happily buggered nun unlocked the chains around my left wrist.
"Finger my pussy while you sodomize my shit hole!" she whispered. "Push three fingers into my hot cunt, right away!"
Dropping the key to the floor, Nathalie seized my wrist and pulled my hand forward so that my fingers were positioned directly outside the tight opening to her hot young cunt.
I slipped my fingers into the nun's burning young twat and with my thumb I tickled her scorching little clit.
The interior of her cunt was moist, meaty and dripping with sex flow. She was close to the highest peak of paradise, and I knew that climax was rushing to explode in her flesh, just as it was in mine.
Wanting to hit my zenith right away, I stabbed my fingers all the way into the little nun's hot cunt and raced back and forth in the fleshy hole, knowing that it would make her work faster and harder on my twat and on the hot red berry of my young clit.
Pounding into her cunt with my fingers I watched her tight asshole slipping up and down the huge wooden dildo. As she climbed up the massive shaft I could see the polished wood shining with the pungent goo of her hot fucked ass.
The giant wooden balls were crammed tightly into my cunt. She reached her fingers inside, rubbing the balls inside my hot wet hole. I felt as though I would be ripped apart, as though my cunt would burst like a bubble, but the massive balls and the skillful pressure of her fingers thrilled me to a state of heavenly bliss.
I was dizzy with the racing pleasure that spread through my body. As the little nun bounced her hot buns up and down on the dildo, the balls rushed in and out of my hot cumming cunt and Sister Nathalie pressed my hot and quivering clit with her finger tip.
The ass-fucked nun had long since stopped bothering to be quiet in her bliss, for Mother Superior, Jean and Sister Francoise were all screaming together in mad sexual delight. Sister Francoise stood on a chair and grabbed Jean's hand, directing it to her cunt. Continuing to hammer his huge hard prick into Mother Superior's hot fuck hole, Jean stabbed his fingers into Sister Francoise's juicy flooding pussy and massaged the soft fleshy walls of the voluptuous nun's furnace. He stroked the interior of her forbidden twat while she banged the dildo in and out of Mother Superior's face and rubbed her heavy breasts against Jean's shoulders.
Mother Superior shrieked paroxysms of wild and depraved lust, taking the Lord's name in vain and coupling it to every forbidden word known to man. She screamed that her cunt was burning, that she was on fire, that Jean was going to flood her burning cunt with the hot scalding seed of God.
Banging her body against Jean, taking every thick throbbing inch of his male majesty in her blasphemous alley of darkness, Mother Superior pressed her finger sharply against the burning button of her fuming, flaming clit, and, with her other hand grabbed Jean's heavily hanging balls, kneading them, caressing and fondling them, almost worshipping them.
"Cum! Fuck my cunt and cum in it! Shoot your hot God damn fucking man seed into my tight juicy fuck ditch! Blast me with your hot fucking sperm!!"
She was wild with lust, a maniac. She shrieked the most horrendous words I had ever heard, stabbing her clit with her finger as her climax soared through her flesh, racing to a high peak, a higher peak, surging through her body.
I was cumming. The mammoth wooden balls filled the hungry heat of my cunt. As I pounded the long hard dildo into Sister Nathalie's asshole, I felt her body tremble with peaking pleasure. She shuddered and the base of the dildo, the huge hard balls, shook in the hot hole of my cunt.
"Ahhh," Sister Nathalie roared with delicious delirium, cumming in every fiber of her body.
Jean's huge male nakedness bucked brutally, slamming and slugging his long giant fuck rod into the hot burning pit of Mother Superior's infernal pussy.
"Fuck!" he growled, getting ready to blast her with the torrent of his burning man seed.
"Yes!" Mother Superior roared in a lewd lion-like voice. "Fuck! Shit! God damn cock! Cunt! Piss! Shit! Cum!"
"I'm going to shoot into your God-damn cunt!"
"I'm cumming! God damn! Holy Mary, mother of God damn fucking... AHHH!! CHRIST!!"
Mother Superior's unholy nakedness convulsed with apocalyptic climax. Her great shattering cum made her flesh explode with searing, sinful sex ecstasy. Her tits shook as her body spasmed with shattering, devastating passion.
"Me too, me too! Ah, God, me too! I'm cumming in my cunt, in my clit! I'm going fucking everywhere!"
Sister Francoise screamed with great glad joy. Climax slashed through her flesh, running riot in her veins.
"I'm shooting in your cunt!" Jean roared, seizing Mother Superior's tits and pulling at them savagely as though he wanted to tear them from her body.
He pounded into her shocked, bedeviled fuck hole, plunging his prick into the pit of her passion.
His body shuddered and his ass clenched into two hard rocks as his sperm jetted up the thick muscle of his fuck stick and splashed out in great manly triumph in the Mother Superior's tight cunt.
Staggering with post-orgasmic devastation, the three bodies, Jean, Sister Francoise, and doubly-fucked Mother Superior, fell to the floor, exhausted.
I rammed my fingers into the wet swamp of little Sister Nathalie's dripping pussy and she pressed my clit as the dildo rammed in and out her ass and my cunt.
Great fires of passionate sex bliss struck my flesh and my clit broke into millions of dazzling radiant pieces. Ecstasy tore furiously through my flesh and made me swoon with total and complete fuck pleasure.
Sister Nathalie, exploding with overwhelming climax, pushed her asshole all the way down to the base of the dildo so that her buns pressed against my cunt lips. Then, convulsing with uncontrollable fuck pleasure, she fell forward on the floor.
Mother Superior, her hand around Jean's rod and the fingers of her other hand buried in her own asshole, began to snore. Sister Francoise, her fingers in her cunt, slept peacefully, and Jean snored like a deeply sated beast, his gigantic balls snugly engulfed in the wet warmth of Francoise's mouth.
Seeing that the debauched trio were lost in a sex-sated stupor, little Sister Nathalie curled her naked body into a ball on the floor and plunged immediately into a world of naughty dreams.
Of the five of us, I alone retained consciousness. The sex had been so utterly wild and abandoned that the others were temporarily lost to the world.
Careful not to make a sound I struggled to lift Mother Superior's key, which Sister Nathalie had taken from her habit and then dropped on the stone floor, in her riotous fuck-happy flurry.
My bondage was a severe impediment, but I managed to move the key with my left foot onto my right foot and to rub my left foot up my right calf until the key was between the sole of my foot and my knee. Then, straining, I managed, just barely, to touch my knee and grip the key between my fingers.
My body heaved with a relief that rivaled orgasm in its joyousness. Twisting the key in the lock I freed myself from the chains.
I swept Mother Superior's garments from the floor and dressed in them quickly.
Seizing the chain I pulled it away from the wall and wrapped it rapidly around Mother Superior's neck, wrists and ankles. Locking the chains around her body, I dropped the key into the pockets of her black robes, which hung on my body and were too long for my childish height.
I slipped the crucifix from Mother Superior's neck and draped the chain around my shoulders.
When she started to awaken, I slapped her brutally on the face with the back of my hand and stuffed the dildo into her mouth. Then I gagged her so that the dildo could not be dislodged from her mouth.
I tore the wimple from her head and began to put it on mine.
The nun who had just groveled in the most shameless debauchery stared at me in horror and amazement, utterly unable to utter a word.
I thought of awakening Jean and helping him to escape, but I was no longer quite as enchanted with him. I had admired the prowess with which he fucked Mother Superior, but knowing that his huge handsome cock had fucked that particular cunt made my pussy cool to the thought of Jean as a partner for possible romps.
Taking a last look at the hideous dungeon, I slipped through the door that the three nuns had left ajar, scurried through the labyrinthine passageways under the chapel and the other buildings of the priory.
Climbing a flight of steps I found myself in a room full of young men huddled over small work tables, toiling at writing. Painstakingly, careful not to make a single error, they did calligraphy on parchment.
Smiling at them, I inspected their work as I walked down the aisle between their tottering work tables, enjoying my role as Mother Superior. When I saw a specimen of especially fine calligraphy, I smiled benevolently, as I imagined Mother Superior would have done, and congratulated the man on his work. When I saw work that I could see to be sloppy, I smacked the man lightly on the shoulder with my hand, telling him what he was doing wrong.
Moving gently through the room, smiling graciously, I felt a sense of great victory. I had vanquished my oppressors, at least for the time being.
My heart and my squirming little pussy exulted with dionysiacal joy, and, exiting from the room and then from the building I strolled to the stable, stole a horse, and galloped at full speed away from the priory.
Chapter Six
Free of my dreadful bondage I had a rather wayward six years.
From my fourteenth to my twenty-first year, I crowded as many marvelous experiences as I could into my unfettered life.
The moment I rode off on the priory's glistening black stallion, the black skirts of Mother Superior's habit flying and billowing in the hot summer air, I knew that I could not go home again.
My maidenhead gone, my youth sullied by lustful and worldly experience, I felt a little like Lisa in Jean's interrupted narrative. I could not return to my father, for I had magically outgrown him in the course of a few licentious days. I did not wish to kill my father, who, unlike Lisa's, was robust and healthy. Nor, however, did I especially care to see him again. My heart did not bleed for him.
The day before my bondage he had been the only real man in my life, but the puzzling turns of fate had, like a corkscrew, opened a bounty of rare astonishments. I had known a gigantically endowed priest in a confessional, a stalwart youth with an even more glorious rod, who, despite our mutual bondage, catapulted my clit to pinnacles of shocking bliss, and I had witnessed the depravity of three nuns and been introduced to the joys of dildos.
I had learned more than many persons ever learn in their lives. I could no longer play the devout daughter. I had become aware of the joys of flesh and life, and I wanted to steep myself in pleasure. I vowed that I would never live the repressed lives of nuns who must resort to dildos to stuff their cock-starved snatches. Dildos were amusing, but cocks were supreme, and I wanted all the cocks I could get.
I knew that my desires were sinful, every fucking one of them. To my surprise, even my shock, I realized that I did not care.
Every thought in my skull was a sin. Every breath I drew tended to excite my flesh, to make me want to sing, dance and celebrate life, and every time I felt the air on my flesh or the sun in my hair, I tingled with youthful sensuality. The flowers of the field made me want to tear my garments from my body and rub my hot naked groin against the soft velvety petals. Every time I heard the song of a bird streaking across the sky I felt joy in my soul, love in my heart and passion in my clit, my hot ass and my ever-dripping cunt.
Every vision that crept into my sight, every image that formed in my mind, every dawn and setting sun made the heat rise in my blood. I sinned with every living moment. I could not stop my body from driving out the piety I had been struggling for years to attain.
When I tried to banish my rapturous thoughts, the thrills of my physical being, when I tried to conjure a virtuous response to the charms around me, I felt myself forcing my being into an arid torpor. I felt all my joy succumb to numbness and guilt, and I felt dry and bitter and ugly. I felt false, and I resented the uneasy feeling of one who hides from one's own face and nature.
At these times I no longer felt young and lovely and alive. I felt old and shriveled and buried in a grave. Each breath became a hateful chore, a great bother. Wild raspberries lost their taste, and the song faded from the birds that seemed no longer to be alive. Their flight ceased to warm and delight me, and they seemed to be pasted to the sky.
Color went out of the world, and the sky and the grass and the stars became the weary hue of gray, and even the purest sweetest things seemed dirty. I seemed dirty and abominable to myself, and I felt as though I could not possibly live in so bleak a world.
But when I surrendered to my instincts, when I stripped down to my naked skin and rode bareback on the beautiful stallion I had stolen from the priory, waving Mother Superior's black habit like a banner of triumph, I felt alive and young and light again, gay and giddy and blessed.
When I dipped my nakedness into the lakes and saw the shining fish shimmying between my legs, their brilliant scales catching the sun; when I rubbed my blooming beaver against the rough trunk of a great tree, rubbing my raw red clit on the bark; when I teased my budding breasts and my yearning nipples with the plume of my stallion's tail-during these happy frolics I knew rhapsody beyond dream, beyond the scope of the most rampant imagination, a joy beyond the spirit, centered in my hot young flesh.
Trite joys and silly caprices thrilled me when I abandoned myself shamelessly to pleasures; when I denied my hunger, great miracles of the world bored me insufferably.
I knew that Hell was my destiny. Even if I repented and never indulged again in a single lusty thought, I had committed such atrocities that I could not be forgiven even if I lived eighty years in a hole in the ground. As I was already marked for perdition, advancing toward the fires of Hell with every breath I took, I decided it would be truly a sin not to wallow luxuriously in all the bliss and passion I could find.
In the wine country of France life is naturally an elixir. The grapes burn on the vines, bursting their skins with ripeness; the air itself seems to ferment the grapes and everything is sweet, intoxicating and the refulgence of life is as sumptuous as a tapestry. Sometimes the perfumes of the air and the glories of life seem even a little overripe, even a bit rotten, verging on squalor, but a radiant and effervescent squalor, a divine and blessed rot.
In such a joyous countryside it is natural for two young people, filled with eager lust, to meet each other, exchange life stories in a glance, and couple madly in the heat of the day or the calm of the night. Even in the era of the Church's vile tyranny, lust cannot be purged from the jungles of the soul when youth dips its spirit and feasts upon the verdure of the Earth.
The years passed and I grew further from chastity. I met many boys and men and invited them into the warm welcome of my womanhood, the unashamed heat of my many splendored holes.
Countless males pumped their passion's cream into my body, cruising into my soul with their cocks hard and long and thick, their virility their visa into my secret core. They traveled along the dark paths of my ass and my pussy, and always found rewards inside my receptive body.
It was, I suppose, inevitable that I would find myself in the city of Paris. I was destined to be a woman of the world and of my time, and all the drama of the turning century was centered in the great capital cities of Europe, London, Copenhagen, Prague and especially Paris.
The plague in England had begun to swim like rats across the channel. No one wanted to be caught dead in Le Havre. People in Paris, which was becoming at that time haughty and arrogant city, denied their terror of plague and death by living wildly, wallowing in wanton pleasures while they had air and strength to breathe. Paris, where plague carrying rats appeared daily in the Seine and the streets were littered with human offal, was as gaudy and wicked as any capital in Europe. The men were beasts and the women bedizened their bodies. It was a city of satyrs and Circes, and I discovered it in my sixteenth year, when the fifteen century had ten years to live, a time that was, perhaps, too long for such an era to survive.
Despite my vast indulgences in fleshly frolics, I was a simple girl in mind and heart, ignorant of the ways of the city. It had not occurred to me that I would need money in Paris, as I had been able to live off the land in the countryside, which proliferated with berries, morelles, glossy black truffles, asparagus so ripe and divine that it could be enjoyed raw, spraying pungent juice onto one's tongue with each bite. My paramours were adept with their arrows and slingshots, and I learned to skin the wild ducks and pheasants, the charming lambs and the enchanting deer, roasting them over flames while my lover and I watched our flesh glow in the firelight as we rejoiced in the hot spicy union of our bodies.
Paradise had been as cheap as love. By cheap, I mean, of course, priceless.
But Paris was another world. When I rode on the bare back of my glorious stallion into the city's squalid boulevards, I was appalled to see no fields of celestial raspberries spreading their narcotic perfume in the air, which, rather than smelling of framboise, it reeked of rubbish, bad breath and stench of sources better left unguessed.
No plumed pheasants streaked across the sooty skies, no truffle patches lined the streets. Alas, no ambrosial asparagus so ripe that it seemed to contain its own b�arnaise sprang from the trash-strewn streets. Pigeons staggered on the ground, burdened by urban banality. These were not the glorious birds for roasting; they seemed decayed from their diet of humanity's dire dross, they were coprophagous creatures.
Where, I wondered, were the magnificent wild capon that roamed the dark forests, as brave and bold as any man?
And where, my cunt cried to know, were the men who would seize me, ravage me and fill my body with the blessed bestial lust.
Paris made me feel outcast, lonely and wretched. I felt that I did not belong in the strange city where women promenaded with leashed peacocks.
I soon realized that I needed money desperately. But I was a wandering soul in the city, a girl without any particular talent or skills, other than my native wit and cunning.
Not knowing what to do or where to turn, I walked the stenchful streets, feeling downcast and dejected.
On my second day in the bewildering city, famished with hunger, I attempted to steal a few brioches from a bakery. The glorious pastry buns enticed my growling stomach and I could not resist them. I knew that stealing was a venial sin, but I knew also that I would soon faint from hunger if I did not eat something. If I fainted on the streets of Paris I would surely die from neglect, for no one would look after me in the wicked town.
I attempted to drop the brioches down the neckline of Mother Superior's habit without being detected. I had been wearing the stolen garment for ten years, washing it almost every day in the running streams and in the cool country lakes. Time had definitely taken its toll on the garment, which no longer resembled a nun's habit at all. It had been torn by thorns and by lusty hands. It had been many times sewn and altered by needle and thread. Mother Superior's habit had actually become quite charming with time. I had contrived a plunging d�collet� and a slit up my right leg that exposed my lovely thighs as it continued all the way up to my waist. It was, to say the least, provocative.
I knew that the brioches could look rather lumpy inside my now skimpy habit, but I would soon take them out and feast on them. Or so I wished.
But the baker, obviously a frugal, soul-obsessed and heartless man, grabbed my lovely long hair in his hands, pulling at it.
"Excuse me, Madame," he growled. "How do you intend to pay for those brioches?"
Before I could make my humble and astounded reply, before I could even think, a beautiful and expensively dressed woman, who had been watching me with interest, slapped the baker's hand with the tip of her parasol.
"The young woman intends to pay you with money, of course, you impudent Corsican! Never in my life have I seen such barbaric behavior in a merchant! No wonder tourists call the Parisians snooty, you philistine! Take your grubby hands of the good woman's hair! Let her go! Can you not see that she is with me!"
The baker took his indeed grubby hands from my hair and I adjusted my skirts with aplomb. I smiled at my protectress, who was a lovely woman, only a year or two older than myself.
With great dignity the beautifully dressed young woman returned my smile and then turned to glare coldly at the baker.
"And what, may I ask, do I owe you for the rather banal looking brioches my sister selected from your dull display?"
The baker nervously mumbled a price and my new benefactress plucked a few coins from her embroidered purse and tossed the money disdainfully across the counter.
"I shall never again buy pastries at this shop," she hissed. "I cannot abide unpleasant merchants. You are a cad! You have no style! Good day!"
The woman gently took my hand and led me from the shop out onto the street.
"Thank you ever so much, Madame. How can I ever repay you for your kindness?" I asked.
"Don't be absurd!" she said with a smile. "Kindness can never be repaid, except by kindness returned. Why did you steal those brioches?"
"Because, Madame, I am dying from hunger. I have been in Paris nearly three days and have nothing to eat. I have no money."
"Yes, yes, that is obvious! But why did you steal brioches! I mean, brioches! And from that shocking pastry shop! Everyone knows that man sells the shabbiest brioches in Paris. He is good only for tarts. Tell me, have you had no food since you have been in Paris?"
"No, Madame," I answered, dying to reach into my modified habit and devour the brioches.
"But that is terrible," she said, apparently shocked. "Do you know no one in the city? Has no one taken care of you?"
"No, Madame. I am quite alone in Paris," I replied.
"That is horrible. We must do something about that. Meanwhile, you cannot live on brioches. They will fill you, but they will not nourish you, and you will end up swooning on the street just as you would had you eaten nothing at all. You must have luncheon with me. My house is only a few paces down the street and I have in my employ one of the finest chefs in Paris. Come, follow me," she commanded, her tone imperious.
I could not decline, nor did I wish to. She was the only person who had spoken to me in Paris, and I found myself almost melting with gratitude. Eagerly, I followed the lovely and beautifully-dressed woman to her house.
Within the house I saw splendors such as I had never seen before in my life. The floors were either of marble or, in other rooms, brilliantly varnished wood. Paintings and tapestries hung from the beautiful walls, which were covered with sumptuous brocade. The opulence of the house was almost unbelievable.
I must have gasped at the beauty and glory of the house, and my gasp must have revealed my incredulity, for the elegant woman smiled as we entered the house.
"Perhaps I should have asked you first if you have any objection to lunching in a house of ill repute?" she chuckled.
"What, Madame, is a house of ill repute?" I asked, quite titillated, but having no idea of what she meant.
"Come, my good woman! Surely you know of what I speak." she smiled.
"No, I swear to you that I have no idea. Remember, I am not a native of Paris."
"But even the most provincial people know of Paris' houses of vice," she said, draping her cloak over a chair. "You look as if you hail from the provinces; but you look also as though you are a woman of some experience. Any girl as beautiful as you are must know something of the world."
"Yes, I do know something of the world, Madame, but I do not know exactly what you mean by saying that your lovely house is one of ill repute. I take it that you mean to tell me that people do not speak well of it."
The handsome woman laughed at my innocence. "That depends, my child, on who speaks. Some people, men, speak very well indeed of my house. Others, however, I must admit, do not speak well of my house or of my character. In fact, many nasty remarks are made. Do you not know that I am one of the wealthiest madams in Paris and that this is a house of harlotry?"
"No, I did not know this, Madame, but, you may be assured, that I am not in the least shocked," I said, wanting to put the gorgeously garbed goddess at her ease.
"I did not, my dear, think that you would be. Come, we will have lunch."
After momentarily leaving my company to instruct the chef, the beautiful woman returned and escorted me into a salon where we waited for luncheon to be announced.
The beautiful woman offered me a glass of port, which I accepted eagerly. She introduced herself as Madame Lemareux. Her profession she had already disclosed.
I sipped the port and felt instantly soothed. The joy of being in female company was marvelous, for I had spent so many years in the company of men. Although I would always prefer men to women, it was amusing to listen to a woman's speech, which is charmingly different from a man's.
A servant girl announced that luncheon was served and Madame Lemareux guided me from the petite and cozy salon into a charming dining room. We sat a table covered with brocade and set with glimmering porcelain and brilliant silver. Never in all my travels had I encountered such exquisite luxury.
"You must forgive the food," Madame Lemareux said apologetically. "There is so little edible food now in Paris. Everything must be sauced to ameliorate the horrors of the ingredients. But perhaps the scarcity of superior meat and game is a kind of blessing, as chefs all over Europe, and particularly in France, are inventing marvelous sauces, such as the world has never known, to remedy the food itself."
As I began to devour the succulent pigeon, roasted to perfection and bathed in a sauce redolent with wine and herbs I could not identify, I felt that I had stumbled into heaven.
"I can see that you are a beautiful girl and that you are rather lost in Paris. To be honest, I rescued you from that loathsome baker because I thought you might like to join my staff. With your beautiful face, your ample bosom and the charming thighs that you reveal so cleverly with the slit in your curious frock, you could, I am certain, be a magnificent whore. Would, such work interest you, my dear? It is, perhaps, not the most honest living, but a talented whore can live very well."
"Yes, Madame, I would adore to work for you. Would I get to fornicate with handsome men, or have you many ugly clients?" I asked innocently.
"God forbid I should have unattractive men in this house! Think how depressing that would be for my girls. No, I assure you, my clientele is comprised of the most charming men in France. You need not worry. I have befriended you. I have rescued you from a barbarian baker and have served you one of the finest lunches you could find anywhere in Paris. Do I look the kind of woman who would make you suck an ugly cock?"
Madame Lemareux, gnawing a succulent pigeon leg, looked genuinely insulted. Rushing to remedy any misunderstanding, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the bounty of charity she had bestowed upon me, I assured her that she did not seem to me the kind of woman who would have anything to do with any man of less than the highest caliber.
"After all, Madame," I said placatingly, "I was not insulting your cock!"
Madame Lemareux giggled as she nibbled a truffle.
"I do think you will make a marvelous whore, Agatha. Who gave you such a charmless name? Oh, don't tell me. I'm sure you had dreadful parents; everyone does. I think I shall call you Angelique, or something. I shall think on it. Now, we have finished our lunch and have two matters demanding our attention. Firstly, I must make certain myself, for the sake of my clients, that you have everything needed to give pleasure. Also, we must find some suitable gowns to adorn your body, which, I must say, seems to need no adornment, but the men do like to have something to take off. A clever whore never exposes her nakedness until the man is ready to tear the clothes from her body. We must entice the men with mystery so that they imagine us naked long before we reveal our actual charms, which are sometimes inferior to the glories with which the male imagination endows us, although in your case, my dear, I am certain that your beauty is the match of any man's dreams. Still, you must come upstairs with me and let me have a good look at you."
Knowing that Madame Lemareux was going to examine my nakedness, my breasts, my buttocks and my cunt, the way a butcher inspects the rump of a young lamb, my pussy began to drip hot succulent juices, as though I were a piece of roasting meat and a knife had sliced my heated flesh through the core. My cunt felt wet and buttery, sauced, but not to cover the inferiority of the flesh, for my cunt could not be more delightful were it to be stuffed with truffles.
As we climbed the stairs to Madame Lemareux's charming boudoir, I watched her ascending the staircase, her beauteous and bounteous (but not a bit corpulent) buns waddled enticingly, and her fleshy figure made my cunt leak with hot spicy juices.
Surrendering to Madame's legerdemains as she peeled the tattered habit from my body, I wondered what her skillful fingers would feel like on the excited flesh of my quivering clit and my hot juicy cunt.
In no time I was utterly naked and helping Madame to relieve her body of her many layers of cumbersome garments. As we worked together gleefully to expose her tits and her cunt and all the other splendors of her naked flesh, Madame giggled, saying that her clients often found stripping her more time consuming than fucking her.
I could well believe her claim, for under her heavy brocaded dress Madame sported layers of undergarments a corset with many stays, complicated lingerie, and an assortment of garments that were maddening to both us, as we were, by this time, enraged with lust.
Finally, Madame stepped out of the last garment and, my own cunt dripping furiously, I reached between her legs to feel her hot lovely hole.
Drilling a finger into Madame's most charming cunt, I admired the contours of her body. Her breasts were full and ripe, with marvelous and rigid nipples on the crown of her orbs. Her waist tapered inward and her hips swelled out. Her thighs were full and rosy in pigmentation, and her buttocks were generously proportioned, full and fleshy, but not at all over-large. Madame had, quite simply, the most beautiful buns I had ever espied, save of course the hard firm buttocks of young country boys, whose asses I reverenced.
I devoted one finger to the tight succulent fuck channel of Madame's glorious cunt, while with the other hand I explored every inch of her charming flesh. I tested her nipples for rigidity and found them very stiff indeed with sexual excitement. Lowering my head to her breasts, bowing in worship, I licked Madame's hot nipples with my tongue, flicking the aching buttons ever so teasingly.
My mouth drooling on Madame's luscious tits, I allowed my hand to roam on her flesh, delighting her. She sighed with pleasure as I stroked the exquisite moss of her hot pubis, exploring the moist and marvelous forest of her delight.
Madame's ass was a treat to my wandering hand. I filled my hand with one buttock, then the other, and when I poked my long inquisitive finger into the darkness of Madame's tight and very hot asshole, the woman squealed with raw and wild rapture.
Lest my reader's think that Madame was selfish in her seduction, I must say that she was a generous lover, which does, after all, behoove a whore to be. Her tongue delighted my long graceful neck as she swung down to my nipples and teased them with the hot pointed tip of her expert tongue.
Inserting two fingers into my burning womanhood, Madame massaged the yearning tissues of my over excited cunt.
With her other hand Madame tested my young buttocks for firmness and fleshiness and, I trust, found them to her satisfaction, for my buns are perfect glories and many men have told me that I have the finest ass they have ever encountered. I have been told that my ass is hot and tight and perhaps even more delicious to fuck than my glorious cunt, which was dripping helplessly as Madame pressed against the heated linings of my hole.
Keeping her fingers in my cunt and preparing to stab my tight dark asshole, Madame and I moved to a satin covered bed and fell down upon it, swooning in each other's arms.
Madame and I were both dripping lasciviously in our cunts, and we felt the need of each other's lips and tongues to soothe the raging lusts of our hot fuck holes.
Stretching out on the bed, Madame buried her face between my legs and began to thrill my pussy flesh with her tongue. Returning the gesture, I swiveled my body upon the satin coverlet and devoted my mouth to the torrid meat of Madame's celestial cunt.
Tasting the juices of her pussy, I nearly died with pleasure. Never had I so enjoyed a morsel of human flesh. I much prefer the hard meat of a man's throbbing cock in my mouth, and I adore the way I can ram his prick into my mouth and all the way down my throat until my neck almost bursts with the bountiful burden, but there is no denying the fact that a pussy, despite its lack of male potency, has a puissance of its own and is, of course, far tastier. Madame's pussy was pungent, as though perfumed, and it oozed with nectars so sweet, so saline, so delicious, that I began to think that her cunt was absolutely divine.
I felt Madame's lips kissing the puckering outer flesh of my cunt, delighting my hole, teasing it, and making my body shudder from head to toe with the racing current of utter delight that spread from my hot hole to every scorching fiber of my flesh.
When Madame drove her tongue into the depths of my pussy I felt burned alive with pleasure. I wondered if it was quite all right with God for us to do what we were doing. I knew that it was shocking enough to commit all the unholy sins I had with men, and I feared that the lesbian bliss I was enjoying with Madame might be even more depraved in the eyes of God. A tremor of guilt rushed through my body, but, I, as you, reader, what is a wee tremor of guilt compared to a devastating shudder of sheer fuck pleasure?
For it was indeed fuck pleasure that tore through my overwhelmed flesh. Despite the absence of cock, my body was aflame with lust and bliss. Madame's tongue was so exquisite, so expert and glorious as it plumbed the heat of my simmering cunt, that I could almost imagine that it were a male organ, for the sensations in my snatch were superb.
Madame knew what she was doing. She drilled her tongue into my cunt and sighed with pleasure, remarking, as she spiraled her tongue in my hole, that I had a magnificent fuck hole. My cunt, she said, was hot and tight and spicy, and she knew that it would please a man wonderfully when he felt it around his hard tool.
I murmured to Madame, as I buried my tongue in her torrid twat, that her hole was one of the sweetest and most enchanting I had eaten in my life. I did not bother to tell her that I had devoted my fellating energies exclusively to cock-sucking, for I did not want to reduce the grandeur of my tribute. Her cunt was sheer and total perfection, and I adored the taste of the hot and dripping flesh. Each flow of her hot nectar into my greedy gulping mouth sent more waves of delight to my own hole, which she thrilled to rising peaks of pleasure with her probing tongue.
Writhing on the bed, I began to perform miracles in Madame's gushing hole. I drilled my tongue into the wet heat of her cunt and pressed against the soft fleshy walls, moving my tongue in fast and sudden circles, shocking Madame with great and glorious ecstasy.
"Ummm," she shrieked with joy as I spiraled my tongue in her meaty cunt and pressed my fingers against the glad magic button of her excited clit. "Never stop! You are divine!"
As her cunt sucked my tongue deeper into its mysterious and succulent furnace Madame' tits heaved against the scarlet satin bed covers and my fingers ached to play with her bouncing orbs.
Keeping one hand on her clit, where Madame, building to climax, needed it, I devoted another to her tits, playing with one, then the other. I thrilled to the soft heavenly texture of her huge tits.
From the rapid, movements of her groin against my face, and the lewd gyrations of her body as she squirmed to press her clit upon my fingertip, I knew that Madame was building to an apocalyptic discharge.
"Fuck," she whimpered with pleasure, pressing my hand down upon her tit and pushing my face deeper into her hot burning fuck ditch; which dripped hotly into my mouth, delighting me with pungent female juices.
"Shit, fuck, cum," I shrieked, as Madame gobbled at the flesh of my gushing gash.
Madame's finger pressed down magically upon the raw heat of my burning clit. When she touched it, my red berry scorched with sudden frenzy. Passion soared through my body, and I hit a peak of overpowering pleasure.
Her cunt oozed and dripped hot sauce into my sucking mouth. My lips kissed her twat lips as my tongue drilled and spiraled in her delicious cunt.
I bumped my pelvis wildly against Madame's face, a riot of pleasure ripping through my body. I was enchanted with lust and with the joy of finding a bit of charity in the wicked city of Paris. It was Christian of Madame to take me into her home and give a poor girl a good time.
"Oh, God damn fucking shit!" Madame shouted, her mouth full, of my dripping hole. "I'm cumming. Your tongue feels so fine in my cunt, my dear! Shove your tongue into my hole. It feels like a cock! Oh, fucking shit! Fuck my cunt! Fuck it! Ram your tongue deep into my ditch! Yes, darling... yes! Fuck!"
Madame bumped her body passionately against my mouth. I felt her pubic hairs tickle my lips as I drove my tongue into the fulsome fury of her fuck flesh.
My cunt was on fire with the pleasure of her racing climax. Madame's tongue and her sensuous lips, not to mention the lovely pressure of her finger on my sizzling clit, thrilled me to a shattering peak of perfect pleasure.
The room heard many groans and shrieks and lewd obscenities as we bumped our clits against each other's faces and swooned with pleasure.
Madame ground her flesh against my face and her cunt flowed with torrents of sweet cream. Screaming with raucous, unholy ecstasy, Madame came in the depths of her hot hole.
"I'm cumming! Holy God, I'm cumming!!" she cried in exquisite, almost agonizing bliss.
"Yes," I whimpered with joy. "I too am cumming in the bottom pit of my pussy! My cunt runneth over with bliss! I discharge!!!"
Madame seized my ass and pressed my body hard against her mouth so that her tongue dashed even deeper into my hole, making my climax greater and more marvelous.
She pressed down so hard against my clit that I thought the pleasure would be my death.
Passion broke in my body and I screamed the most horrid obscenities as I came madly in my cunt, my clit, my ass, my tits, every hot burning fiber of my body, until even my soul exploded with divine animal lust.
Filled with deep and total satisfaction Madame and I fell into each other's arms, our mouths melting together in a post-climactic kiss. We pressed our spent bodies together, rubbing our breasts, our thighs, our drenched pussy mosses together, and Madame, spreading her legs slightly and slipping between my spread legs, accidentally rubbed her clit against mine, and the pleasure hit us again, making us burn with passion.
I did not leave Madame's boudoir for three days, by the end of which, Madame had more than confirmed my qualifications for harlotry.
Chapter Seven
During the year that I worked in her house, I enjoyed a warm womanly friendship with Madame. I met many noble men, French counts, English lords, and more than a few lusty bishops. Between romps with handsome men, which I would gladly have engaged in with no exchange of currency were it not for the fact that young girls in Paris cannot make their livings from charity, I enjoyed many happy hours with Madame.
We often lunched together in her garden, preparing ourselves for the evening's sex. One morning she told me that we would be three for lunch that day. One of her oldest friends in the world was visiting Paris. Madame wished to make his sojourn a joy.
Madame and I had traded very little information about our pasts, perhaps because our present lives were so exciting to compare. I knew little of her life history, and I was eager to see what kind of man my benefactress, my friend and employer had known in her mysterious youth.
Of course my cunt dripped in anticipation. What else would it do when titillated by the prospect of a charming man? I knew that Madame's friend would be charming, for I had realized long ago that Madame had been earnest in her claim that she had nothing to do with unattractive or dull men.
I dressed in my most charming dress, which revealed my divine bosom with its shockingly plunging neckline. The dress was made of lace, and I wore nothing underneath, so my nipples, my pubis and all my female charms were more than hinted through the little holes in the garment. Admiring myself in the glass, I did not care a bit whether it was an appropriate choice for a social luncheon. If men could have their codpieces, by God, I could show my snatch!
When I descended the staircase I saw a powerfully built man in his middle or late twenties. Curiously, he seemed familiar, though I could not immediately place him.
When Madame introduced him as Father Jean, a bishop currently out of costume, the name meant nothing to me.
The handsome man seemed to look at me strangely as I tilted my face for him to kiss my cheeks.
As we moved into the garden to await our lunch, the man took my hand.
"Do you not remember me, Agatha?" he asked peevishly.
"Have we met, Father?" I asked, my voice slightly mocking.
"Please, don't call me Father. I detest it. The Church is a joke to me," he said. "Yes, we have indeed met. I am surprised you do not remember, as we were together under most unusual circumstances."
"And what might they have been?" I asked politely.
Jean withdrew his hand from mine, stepped boldly in front of me, and walked backwards into the garden. Facing me, he formed a fist and placed it boldly at his groin and he began to simulate the fury of a masturbating young man.
At first his amusing display rang no bells in my mind, although his lewdness did make juices begin to flow in my cunt, for his hand drew my attention to his maleness, and I found myself speculating on the dimensions of his cock.
"What are you doing, Jean, sweetheart?" Madame asked, giggling as we sat ourselves around the table and sipped our wine.
"I am reminding Agatha of our meeting," Jean answered.
"What a small world it is," Madame remarked. "One cannot cross a street or a channel without bumping into someone with whom one has fucked!"
"Alas, I have not had the privilege of fucking Agatha, although I have often wished that our meeting had not so rudely prevented that delight. Unfortunately, Agatha and I were both in bondage when we met in a dark dungeon at the priory of Sauveterre."
"No!" I shouted in astonishment. "Can it be? Are you the young man who shared my imprisonment with me and told me a story before we were interrupted by three nuns, one of whom was Mother Superior, whom you fucked in the cunt, while the other nuns licked your balls and ass?"
"Yes, I am the same man, Jean Lamont. I remember that one of the nuns impaled herself upon a dildo strapped around your waist."
"My God, yes! I remember it as though it were yesterday, although it has been ten years, Jean. How extraordinary that we should meet again. You must tell me how you became a bishop. What is your diocese?"
"Oh, Agatha, I do not wish to bore our hostess with details. Suffice it to say that Mother Superior enjoyed my fucking and wanted to keep me within the convent. It was necessary for her to give me some power, for she knew that I would not continue to fuck her if she kept me as a slave. I became a monk, a priest, and finally a bishop."
I stared in astonishment at the handsome man and felt my cunt ripple with excitement.
"And all because you are a superb fuck and Mother Superior liked your great cock! How amusing. Tell me, is the cunt still alive, Mother Superior?"
"No, she has gone to Hell, I fear," Jean said. "She was many times fucked and had a fine life while she lived."
"I am glad to hear it," I chuckled, knowing that Jean was referring to the many times his giant cock must have serviced Mother Superior. My cunt yearned for it. It seemed as though I had waited ten years to have my second meeting with the handsome and robust specimen of manhood.
"It is charming to meet you again, Agatha, after all these years," Jean said charmingly.
"Yes," I murmured sipping my wine, feeling rather badly that Jean and I were neglecting our enchanting hostess, my beloved friend. "Tell me, Jean, how you happen to know our hostess and my friend, Madame Lemareux."
"Your employer is the girl I spoke of, Lisa, the dairy maid at the farm where I worked as a young man," Jean explained. "She has come a long way in the world from her humble beginnings."
I was astounded to know that my beloved friend was the same girl Jean had described to me ten years ago, when he spoke of fucking her on the bed of hay, amongst the animals in the barn.
Madame sipped her wine and nibbled the succulent poulet en croute that had been brought to the table.
"Do you remember, Jean, the day my father died as we were so happy?" Madame asked, reaching under the table to rub Jean's muscular thigh.
My cunt oozed hot liquors as I bit into the pastry covered chicken and felt its hot juices splash my tongue.
"Yes, I remember Jean telling me the story, Madame, of how you wished to kill your father so you would be spared the ordeal of caring for him," I said, the tale coming freshly back to my mind, as though I had heard it only a day ago.
"A little arsenic did the trick, Agatha, and I began my happy life. It took me no time to begin my marvelous life. In fact, I did not even have to escape from the tediums of being a dairy maid. Soon after my father died, Jean and I celebrated in the barn with a hot healthy fuck. Jean's cock had just exploded his violent seed in the juicy oasis of my cunt, when we were attacked by seven monks, who had been spying on us from the hayloft, where they had been gang-banging a poor kitchen wench. We had not known of their presence.
"They told us that we were sinners. We, realizing that they had been wickedly raping a helpless girl, laughed and spat in their faces. They did not appreciate our mockery. To punish us, they tied us in rope and took us to the priory. That, I suppose, is how you happened to meet Jean in the dungeon. I was chained to a table in the monastery's kitchen, upon which I was brutally fucked in every hole you could imagine. I don't mean only my cunt, asshole and mouth, though they were assaulted vigorously by the monks' cocks. But they fucked me between my tits, even once in my armpit. But mostly they rammed their cocks in my cunt and asshole until I thought I would die from exhaustion and, I must say, pleasure.
"After I escaped, I realized that I was born to be fucked. I adored men's cocks and wanted all that I could have of the hot joys of lust. Harlotry was a natural profession for me, and our beloved Jean, who by then was well established within the Church, helped me to begin my business, which, as you can see, has thrived.
"I owe my fortune to the monks' kidnapping of Jean and I. It has always amused us, Agatha, that the monks meant to punish us for fornicating, not knowing that we had fatally poisoned my father's soup only two days before."
Jean, Madame and I delighted in the irony as we feasted on our poulet en croute, heavenly cheese, ethereal biscuits and exquisite wine.
"I think, Jean," Madame said, "that Agatha has waited ten years for the fulfillment of your original meeting. As you were not able to fuck in your bondage, I feel that you should amend the injustice. You must not let the girl wait any longer to accommodate your wonderful cock in her cunt. Although I had been hoping for your skillful fucking myself, I sacrifice you this afternoon to Agatha. I know that she will please you, for she is the best girl in my house. Her services will, as usual, be yours without any vulgar exchange of currency. Your glorious rod is always welcome in my house, just as your sermons are welcome in the house of God. I give you Agatha's body with my blessing, and I am certain that she does not object. All through luncheon I have watched her nipples inside her lace dress. How shocking of you, Agatha, to be unattired under your frock! And I can tell that your cunt is hot and ready to be fucked, for, quite frankly, my dear, the fragrances of your body have overwhelmed the spices with which the chef has adorned out lunch. Your cunt exudes a most tempting perfume."
Madame left hurriedly, explaining that she had a mid-afternoon appointment with Cardinal de Chassenoix, who was reported to have the most gigantic cock in France. I did not, however, envy Madame her famous client, for I remembered Jean's cock as being mighty and massively male, and my pussy was dripping for it hotly.
Jean reached under the table to touch my body and was surprised to find my cunt already exposed. In my excitement I had lifted my lace frock up to my hips and had begun to play with my eager twat.
He sprang from the table and lifted me from my chair, spreading my body out upon the table, which was strewn with the remains of our lunch.
As I writhed and wiggled, Jean stripped the beautiful lace dress from my body. In his furious haste he tore the lovely garment, but my cunt was so hot and yearning for his magnificent cock that I did not care at all about my clothes. I cared only that he ram his long fat throbbing fuck rod into my dripping furnace of delight. I wanted his prick to plow my pussy.
Like a satyr, Jean tore the complicated garments from his body and exposed the naked miracle of his manliness.
At the sight of his stiff and giant fuck stick, my cunt burned with desire. His cock was even bigger than I remembered it, and I wondered if it might have grown in the ten years since I had worshipped his masturbating body in my dungeon bondage.
Spreading my legs far apart on the luncheon table, Jean pulled me forward, so that my tight puckering pussy lips were positioned at the edge of the table. Jean stood with his feet firmly on the ground, his cock huge and throbbing with vitality.
The table was the perfect elevation for fucking. Jean's long hard pole pressed against my moist hot beaver, which was much more abundantly furred than when he had last seen it.
"You have become a beautiful woman, Agatha," he murmured approvingly, rubbing his blood-engorged cock in the furry folds of my frontal sex.
I grabbed his enormous balls. I remembered how I had prayed to God that I might brush them with my fingertips when, years ago, I ached in my bondage to touch his hard flesh as he stroked his long organ as I rubbed my hot clit against the cold metal chain that kept me from him.
Now, ten years later, his balls filled my hand. They were massive, hair-covered and terribly thrilling to touch. The sensation of them in my hand made my pussy boil with desire for his long fat magnificent fuck meat.
"My cunt!" I squealed. "Fuck my tight hot cunt with your cock!"
"Yes," Jean murmured, seizing the pulsating root of his long rod and arching his body to attack the juicy wet hole between my smooth milky thighs.
I felt the head of his rod push against my cunt lips. It was the biggest cock I had seen in years, and I shuddered with joy and alarm as I felt it invading the heat of my hole, inch by glorious inch.
Even after a year of harlotry, during which I had taken hundreds of cocks into my cunt, I had trouble accommodating Jean's massive man rod. It was so huge that my cunt resisted its assault, but Jean and I were determined to unite our excited flesh in hot carnal bliss. I wanted his cock to ram its pulsating power all the way into my twat and to fill my body with his scalding potency.
Jean's cock forced its thick virility into the burning void of my aching hole. Yearning for him, I tightened my grasp of his balls and pulled him deeper into my womanhood.
He grabbed my tits and lurched forward to kiss them. Flicking my nipples with his tongue he drilled deeper into my cunt, stuffing me with his cock.
I felt his brutal organ invading my hole. It stretched the linings of my pussy as he plunged into my passionate pit. My cunt tissues grabbed his cock and engulfed him in the wet meat of my snatch.
"Fuck me, Jean! Ram your rod all the way into my twat. Stuff my cunt with your cock. Shove yourself into the flaming depths of my delicious little hell. Pound your cock in and out of me, Jean! Please, right now, fuck my cunt!!"
Holding Jean's balls in one hand, pulling his male shaft into the tight friction of my fuck hole, I reached across the table with my free hand, selected a wedge of ripe cheese and fed it to my fucking lover.
Jean, drilling his cock all the way into my tight hole, plucked a grape. Lovingly, he peeled it for me, and dropped it into my mouth.
His cock filled- my body with bliss. It had conquered my cunt fully. Every virile inch of his victorious rod was embedded into the valley of my womanhood.
My cunt was full. Jean's cock was in. We started to fuck like savages.
If it was Hell heating our fucking flesh, we did not care. It seemed more likely that Heaven had blessed us in advance, for the fires in our body were pure joy.
Jean bit my rigid nipples as he slid his long powerful rod almost all the way out of my tight clutching hole. Nibbling on a crust of pastry from Madame's plate, I looked down between my legs to admire the enormity of Jean's withdrawn cock. His proud potent meat gleamed with the clinging syrups of my hole. His cock was so wet with the flowing ambrosia of my pussy that my juices dribbled onto the hairy bag of his balls, which were full of the hot seed that my hole yearned to absorb.
Dangling a tempting wedge of cheese over my open mouth, Jean slammed his powerful rod back into the snug hot nest of my hungry cunt.
He dropped the cheese into my mouth as he rushed in to fill my pussy with his cock. He slashed his shaft into my slit, which was hot, filled with cream. My hole was like a pot of melting butter, tight and slippery and good to fuck.
He banged back and forth in the friction of my fuck hole. My cunt tissues wrapped hotly around his thrusting meat, clutching him in my hot hungry hole.
As Jean drilled a finger into my asshole, I raised a ripe peach to his mouth. He took a bite and bludgeoned my buttery cunt with his brutal rod.
Filled with his male vigor, brimming with the oozing tides of my pussy juice, I felt my body soaring to a pinnacle of earthly heaven.
Sin was the last thing on my mind, which had banished thought of everything in the world but the animal ecstasy of fucking, the bestial bliss that Jean's huge fuck meat created in my cock-craving cunt.
He hammered his hard flesh in and out of my wet hot cunt, filling me, stuffing me with his power.
In and out of my clutching cunt, back and forth in the friction of my fuck tunnel, Jean rammed and banged and pounded his enormous throbbing slab of maleness. His cock darted in and out of my hole, and he moved his body in wonderful rhythm, thrilling me with pleasure.
His thick cock stretched my pussy tissues as he jabbed it into the depths of my body, fucking the hot burning core of my passionate being.
My cunt lips clutched his cock as he rammed the strength of his manhood back and forth, banging his bulk against my body, stuffing my cunt with his cock.
He thrust wildly into my female heat, and with each violent attack on my cunt his thick rod pressed against the burning berry of my clit, spreading joy through my flesh.
Chewing cheese I popped a peeled grape into his mouth as he rushed his meat into the pit of my pussy.
Pleasure mounted like a wave riding to shore. Soon its crest sprayed foam and spread out like a great fan, drenching the dry sands.
"Fuck me, please, darling! Oh, fuck my hot cunt! Shove your great maleness into the oven of my womanhood! Get your fat rod all the way into my hole! Fuck me, fuck me!!"
Brutally, violently, Jean thrust his cock into the bottom pit of my cunt, stretching me with the male enormity of his glamorous cock. It was so wonderfully big, it could have shocked even the most over-used, over-fucked, stretched whore's cunt. But my cunt was young and succulent and magically resilient, hot and dripping, a constant furnace of delight.
Jean pounded his meat into my hole, and pleasure tore through my flesh. My hot hole embraced his massive meat as he thrust vigorously into the glory of my womanhood.
My pussy full of his meat, thrilled by the shocking friction of his rod banging the secret and forbidden interior of my hole, I felt my climax build to a shattering zenith.
"Fuck! God damn! Fuck me! Holy God, fuck my burning cunt!"
His cock stormed into my cunt, raging with virile vitality.
His balls banged against my buns, which hung over the table as he battered his brutal bulbous fuck shaft into my burning gash.
Climax rose in my body, passion raced through my veins. Fuck fury filled my flesh.
I was filled with cock and Jean's finger was performing magic in my hot cocoa box, my tight asshole. He spiraled his finger in my hot ass like a dancer performing a cunning pirouette.
Stretching my hand down his humping back, tracing my fingers down his spine as he banged his hard meat into my hot cunt, I slipped my fingers between the sweating crack between his hard male buttocks and pushed my little finger into his hole.
With my finger in his ass, pressing his prostate gland, I pressed him harder into my cunt.
The male prostate is a mystery of almost divine nature. The miracle of sperm is rooted in the magnificent gland, which makes men's assholes far more exciting even than women's, which are, of course, superb. My finger excited Jean's manly gland, making his balls gnarl into a massive knot of sperm-loaded gristle.
"Ah, your cunt is hot and tight! Fuck it's a fine hole. I'm going to fill it with my seed! I'm going to drown your womb with a burning wad of my sperm!"
Jean thrust deeply into my cunt, brushing against the swollen berry of my burning clit, making radiant joy race through my swooning flesh.
"Yes, oh yes, darling! Magnificent man, splash your virile victory into my harlot hole! Flood my fuck hole with your man cream!!"
I savagely squeezed Jean's balls and pressed my finger against his prostate gland as he hammered his hard meat into the mushy maw of my cunt.
My pussy burned with lust as Jean pounded his rod into my cunt. I felt his balls clench into a wad of furious meat and I felt his cock pulsate explosively in the depths of my cunt as the torrent of his male seed soared up the length of his entrenched shaft.
Hot sperm splashed from his cock and struck the tender walls of my twat, drowning my already flooded cunt with his manly magnificence.
As I felt the scalding fire of his seed blast into the volcano of my cunt, drowning my hole with damning potency, I felt the race of my orgasm tear through my flesh.
Bliss and lust filled my being. His cock jetted with sperm and my cunt constricted around his exploded fuck rod convulsively.
My clit sizzled and broke with bliss and ecstasy swept through my body as I swooned with the total serene joy of being magnificently, brilliantly fucked.
Jean, seeing that my climax had peaked, grabbed my buns and pulled my body toward him. My cunt still impaled on his rod, I clung to him, wrapping my legs around his hard buttocks and my arms around his broad shoulders.
Stroking his broad gleaming chest and feeling his cock still throbbing in the tight clutches of my cunt, I let Jean carry me behind a trellis of climbing bougainvillea. We lay down together in the grass. I played with Jean's huge balls as his cock pulsed mightily in my clutching cunt.
Our bodies joined, we spoke of many things, sharing a serene post-orgasmic interlude.
"Your cunt is divine," Jean murmured, rubbing my moist pubis, exploring my dark female fields with his fingers.
"I know," I sighed with pleasure, "But you should not blaspheme, Jean, darling. After all, you are a priest."
"I don't care," Jean said. "It would be more blasphemous not to praise your heavenly hole. It is one of God's wonders. He knew what he was doing when he created woman, when he dreamed up a biped with a tight, delicious hole between its legs to fit cocks into."
Not entirely agreeing with Jean, but not wanting to sully this blissful moment with a prosaic debate on the sexes, I simply teased his balls with my fingers and said that God had shown far more imagination when he invented men. I talked ecstatically about the glories of the male mysteries, the cocks and the balls that were common to all men. Women, I declared, could not possibly match the genital perfection of men. As I compared the simplicity of women's holes to the marvelous protuberances of men's organs, Jean dug his cock deeper into my cunt and drilled his finger into my asshole. He said that I thought as I did only because I was a woman, I argued only slightly, saying that even a man should be able to realize how much more interesting cocks and balls were to simple cavities. The rounded male convexity, I said, was more gloriously designed than women's holes, which were made only for the pleasure of men. I professed a belief that God allowed women to feel sexual pleasure only as an afterthought. He had Adam and his sons in mind when he made women's cunts.
This topic was good for several hours as we lay in the sun talking, fucking again, examining each other's bodies with curious scrutiny.
After a particularly superb ass fuck in Madame's garden, Jean told me that the priory needed a new Mother Superior and that he wanted me to fill the void.
I giggled at the idea, but then I found it more and more charming. Although I adored working for Madame, and liked my profession, I knew that I would tire of Paris in time. Playing Mother Superior (to the hilt, of course) would provide me with a living and, I became convinced, considerable amusements.
Jean assured me that it did not matter that I had taken more cocks than vows. He would simply pass me off as Sister Agatha and I would, he said, fall naturally into the role of Mother Superior.
Chapter Eight
The priory had not changed in the ten years I had been away. The buildings were still standing, and a new one had been added. Jean said that it was an orphanage. It had been built adjacent to the convent, Jean remarked, because it was believed that the unfortunate young girls were in dire need of God's love. Jean grinned maliciously as we rode through the gate of the priory on our magnificent horses, saying that the girls might not have received much of God's love, but they got a lot of monks' cocks shoved up their virgin cunts and assholes.
I delighted in my new career and soon found that it was as lucrative as harlotry. Other than the superficial appearances in chapel, lending my presence to the cursory services, my duties consisted mainly in procuring young girls from the orphanage and the convent and selling the young girls' favors to the monks, the bishops and men with no pretensions of devotion.
I was the most bedazzling beautiful Mother Superior ever seen in any diocese in France, or in all the world. It was widely said that if God ever truly came to bless our priory, he would come to fuck my hot cunt with his omnipotent rod.
I did not hold my breath.
God's was maybe the only cock I did not accommodate in my fabulous fuck holes. In my capacity as Mother Superior I was often called upon to speak with young men who wished to join the monastery. It was part of my job to test the true nature of their spiritual calling, and test it I did, right in the hot clutches of my cunt. If their cocks did not bless my pussy I knew that they would be of no use to God, but if they stuffed my hole with hard thick manhood, I knew that they would perform devotedly in holy service.
Blasphemy, my readers might protest. Of course! Blasphemy ruled the Church! Our priory made Madame's house in Paris seem as innocent as a babe in the womb.
When people are confined in a priory and forced to spend the long hours of their days in the gruesome task of deceiving the world, they become bored by the charade. Deception, however amusing it can be at its most ironic moments, can be exceedingly exhausting. Few know this as deeply as I do, for I have engaged in all kinds of bamboozlement, some of it deliciously lofty, but some almost embarrassingly pedestrian. Imagine the boredom of assuring a noble lord that his daughter, whom he is sending to a nunnery with an ample dowry, will be well cared for. The tedium of such interviews, of which I have suffered many, is almost unbearable. The only consolation is the joy of planning outrageous tortures for the rich little bitch.
The orphans are rather different than the wealthy daughters of lords who come to our convent. The poor darling little orphan girls can sometimes melt my heart. The poignancy they sometimes kindle in my heart, however, is feeble compared to the fires that they can create in my cunt. Whenever I feel like a change, when my pussy becomes just a little jaded and I know that I've had enough cocks for a day or two, I head straight for the orphanage and select a young virgin girl for my pleasure, always selecting one with pretty lips and a good long tongue.
The monks in the priory are also partial to the orphan girls, preferring them often to the wealthy novices, whose cunts are equally virgin, but whose bodies and spirits tend to be a few years older than the orphan girls.
A few months after I began to play Mother Superior to the gullible world, a lovely young creature named Annette Funicelle was brought to the orphanage. Her parents had been tragically killed by a wild boar attacking them as they fucked after a picnic. Little Annette, off picking raspberries, was spared death, but when she returned to the picnic site she was traumatized by the sight of her trampled mother and father. Since the fateful day the little girl had been sad indeed.
Her sorrow added to her youthful beauty. Her young face was distinguished by a depth of emotionality not found in most nubile young virgins.
The monks all agreed that darling little Annette was the most enticing piece of virgin girlhood to appear in many seasons. Clerical life being what it is, the monks thought of nothing but Annette's luscious young flesh. They wanted her ass. They wanted her cunt.
Father Jean told me that the monks were restless. Their desire made them lewd and it was feared that the townspeople might begin to see through the facades of our lusty young freres.
I was instructed to, abduct the charming young vixen from her bed in the dark of night and bring her into the priory so that the monks could ravage her young body.
It was all arranged in advance. I would steal the young girl from the orphanage on the pretext of offering her extra spiritual guidance. The monks would prepare an altar for the desecration of her chastity. She would be deflowered in the cunt and ass. Her mouth too would be fucked by unholy cock. The monks were ruthless. Not one hole of the virgin's body would be spared.
Poor little Annette was deep in slumber when I crept into the room where a dozen young girls slept. It was easy to identify Annette, for she had unique black hair, the darkest, glossiest ebony, which glistened in the moonlight as it lay spread out on her straw pallet.
Also, Annette was distinguished from the other sleeping girls by her breasts, which were astoundingly voluptuous for a girl of fourteen. They were full and firm inside her nightdress, and I felt it was a pity that the monks might not worship them sufficiently as they concentrated on cramming their cocks into her cunt and crap hole.
Believe it or not, I actually felt a tingle of pity for the poor girl as I gagged her mouth and watched her eyes open in horror at the feeling of the chains that I looped around her limbs.
Knowing the ordeal that the lust-crazed monks would put the little virgin through, my own cunt shuddered with sympathy. I thought that the monks' insatiable appetite for virgin flesh was shocking, and I vaguely resented being implicated in their schemes, kidnapping the shocked young virgin, as I had done so many times before to placate the bestial obsession of male lust.
I did not mind surrendering my own hot and hungry cunt or asshole to the demands of men's throbbing cocks, but I felt some reluctance to deliver fresh virgin meat to the brutal and violent monks, who could kill girls with their tribal lust.
Still, it was my job, and a girl has to make a living.
I dragged the bound and gagged girl down the stone staircase of the orphanage, across the dark quadrangle between the priory and the orphanage, through the great iron gate and down into the very same dungeon where I had been cruelly bound years ago.
How odd it was that the episode of my bondage should figure so importantly in my life. Had I not, in my youthful innocence, confessed my sins to the wicked and now dead Father Banday, had he not bound me to the dungeon wall, I would never have left my father's home and enjoyed my pastoral years as a wayward young girl in the French countryside; I would never, have discovered Paris and the deep satisfactions of harlotry; I would never have re-encountered Jean Lamont and attained my felicitous position as Mother Superior.
I owed my destiny to one episode of dungeon bondage. The rats, the bat, the dank horror of the scene had all been worth it. I lived through my ordeal and triumphed over the depravity of the world.
Yes, by joining forces with the vileness of mankind, I found my radiant peace.
Leaving Annette in the dungeon I went to inform Father Jean that his monks, could commence their carnal exploitation of the poor little virgin.
Father Jean told me that the monks had just finished defiling another unfortunate little girl and that they had chosen to abstain for three days. Abstention, Father Jean claimed, would make their fucking more pleasurable when they finally allowed themselves to pump their hard rods into the virgin's soft young body.
The matter was out of my hands. I thought of the poor little creature bound in vile chains in the dungeon, waiting for three long days without knowing what her fate would be. I did hope in my heart that someone was kind enough to take her some food, but I did have other matters to attend to. A baron requested seven novices to be delivered to his house for an orgy. Passing myself off as a novice I accompanied six carefully selected young nuns, not wanting to miss one of the great fuck hullabaloos of the season.
I am ashamed to admit that I rather forgot about Annette, and I did not think of her again until she came to me the day after the monks had fucked her in every hole she had. She pleaded with me to let her join the convent, for she found our priory much more fun than her dreary orphanage. Hearing what the poor darling creature had gone through, I sympathized and accepted her at once as a novice, thinking that she would be a happy addition to our lewd priory.
Sipping wine in my chamber, Annette told me her story in full detail. I shall close my narrative with Annette's description of her ordeal, for I feel it is as good an example of the depravity in the Church as I could ever concoct. Also, I am in a terrible hurry to get on my horse and gallop to the Baron's chateau, as he has assured me that tonight's orgy will be even better than the scandalous sarcous assembly he held two evenings ago.
Here is Annette's vivid account of her devastating defloration:
"You could not believe what they did to me, Mother Superior. Oh, God, I feel sinful even thinking about it.
"I waited three days in the dungeon, but when the three monks dragged me into the chapel and I saw the altar blazing with candles and heard the loud chanting of the assembled monks, I knew that I would suffer far greater tortures that I had known in the dark and dreadful dungeon in which you imprisoned me.
"I screamed with fear and panic, but the monks slapped my face brutally, until I could scream no more. My young virgin cunt shuddered with horror, as I imagined the evil things they were going to do to my body.
"They wrapped chains around my ankles and my wrists, so that I could not possibly fight them off.
"Pulling at elaborate ropes, two monks on either side of the chapel elevated my body over the altar. I was stretched out horizontally, chains around my ribs and my waist and hips. My legs were spread far apart, chains wrapped tightly around them.
"I was suspended over the altar, toward the end of it, so that a man could stand in front of the altar and shove his brutal cock into my young virgin cunt and rape me violently.
"Even at fourteen, blessed Mother Superior..."
"Call me Agatha, honey," I said.
"Thank you, Mother. So, Agatha, as I was saying, even at fourteen I knew what men had in their minds. A few of the girls in the orphanage had been terribly raped by their fathers, and I had heard tales of men's cocks, without ever having seen one. I knew that the monks couldn't wait to shove their unholy rods into my tight virgin cunt.
"I did not know that they intended also to fuck me in my forbidden asshole, because I had never heard of that fetish before. But, oh, God, they did it!
"I recognized Brother Franco. He used to walk through our property often on his way to town. I had always admired his handsome face and his vigorous striding walk, and I had wondered shamefully about his body, even though I knew that it was a dreadful sin for a young girl to indulge in thoughts of men's bodies or to submit to the base and evil instincts of carnal desire.
"But I could not help it. I am flesh, Mother Agatha, and I am prone to all the weaknesses of women.
"When I saw Brother Franco strip his monk's robes from his body my pussy felt a hot current shudder through its forbidden corridors. His member was massive and my body surrendered to the terrible excitement of sexual anticipation, despite my terrible fear of being deflowered and my aversion to bondage.
"I do have a playmate at the orphanage. Her name is Helen and I am sure that she too would make a lovely nun. You should check her out. Helen and I sometimes spanked each other, or tied our young bodies to our beds with rope and nibbled the succulent flesh of our young dripping pussies. But we are both virgins, Mother, totally innocent of men's cocks, or we were when we engaged in our innocent and only slightly naughty frolics. I know that Helen and I sinned, and I often feared God's wrath, but when Helen touched my eager young body and began to drink at my furry cup, I could not deny her the thrill of my hot wet cunt, just as I couldn't deny myself the joys of eating and being eaten.
"Helen and I enjoyed light bondage, but the monks' idea of bondage was quite unlike the girlish joys Helen and I delighted in. The monks all had cocks, and as the stripped their robes from their bodies and revealed their fat fuck rods and their heavy balls, I knew that I was not going to be lightly bound. When cocks are involved, Mother, sex becomes quite different than it is with two innocent young girls.
"I watched Brother Franco advance toward my bound body, lurching between my spread legs.
"My body trembled with fear and desire as my eyes filled with the sight of his enormous male shaft. The great length and girth of his massive meat made my virgin flesh shudder with panic, but, at the same time, I felt an undeniable surge of heat and excitement ripple through the darkness of my virgin pussy and spread through my hot pumping blood.
"As Brother Franco pressed the fat knob of his blood-filled fuck flesh against the tight folds of my chaste cunt, I quivered with fear at the sight of another monk, stripped down to his bare male essentials. I recognized Brother Jacques, who sings with such a deep and strong voice in the Church choir. I saw that his organ was far stronger than his voice as he stretched himself out atop the altar, lying flat on its brocaded surface, his cock standing straight and tall from his hairy groin, the tip of it threatening to invade my tight asshole, terrifying my entire being.
"Brother Franco was brutal. He forced his fuck muscle into my young hole all at once, filling me with his hard fuck rod.
"His long thick pole stabbed its frightening potency into my virgin void. I felt hideous pain overwhelm my body as his throbbing man shaft shattered my virgin seal.
"Brother Franco's hefty cock crammed its huge hardness into my tight cunt. My virgin hole shuddered with agony as I felt the blood trickling from my pussy lips.
"I could see slender streams of my virgin blood, the wine of my hymen's wound, streaking down the fat meat of his gigantic fuck rod.
"Brother Franco was merciless. He withdrew his slab of hard flesh from the tight canal of my destroyed virginity, giving me a moment of relief, but he thrust back into me so brutally, filling me with his thick throbbing cock, that I felt as though he were breaking my maidenhead again.
"While Brother Franco initiated my pussy to the horrors of sex, horrors which would soon become pleasure, then mirth, joy, rapture and wild rioting ecstasy, Brother Jacques forced his cock into the tight puckering opening of my never-plumbed ass.
"I felt the enormity of his rod stabbing the vulnerable young flesh of my ass, forcing its way through my tender buttocks, through the cleft between my buns and into the dark and very forbidden hole.
"I knew that Brother Jacques was coercing me into the vile sin of sodomy, an even more horrid offense against God, Nature and the Church than regular cunt fucking. I was determined that I would not commit the sin of enjoying this depraved and unholy ritual, and the first moments of sodomy gave me to believe that I would have no difficulty resisting pleasure, because the pain was excruciating. It shot through my whole body, nearly killing me.
"In my heart I knew that Brother Jacques' massive fuck stick was killing my asshole because God was punishing me for beginning to feel pleasure in my cunt, which Brother Franco stuffed with his hard thrusting cock.
"Another monk, whom I could not recognize, kneeled blasphemously on the altar and slapped his long rod against my face before pushing it brutally into my mouth. As the monk filled my face with his thick throbbing maleness, Brother Jacques drilled his cock deep into my ass, filling me with furious male muscle.
"Brother Franco's hirsute body bucked brutally against the dripping delta between my spread legs. I marveled at the hard muscles of his bestial body as his magnificent rod rushed in and out of my tight young pussy.
"All the pain of the cocks' assaults upon virgin flesh turned to joy. Pleasure spread lewdly through my thoroughly fucked young body.
"Never in my life had I felt such rapture. The feeling of the three monks' rods in my three filled holes was better than the first day of spring, as lovely as the year's first raspberry, and far more radiant than the joy of praying to God and believing dimly in one's heart that He might be listening.
"My body was full of cocks and bliss, and dozens of other monks watched the spectacle of my defloration. I knew that one of the three monks fucking me would soon blast a fireball of male potency into one of my wet, receiving holes. Soon the unknown monk would drown my mouth. Or Brother Jacques would blast the scalding triumph of his seed into the swooning cavity of my dark tight ass. Or Brother Franco would explode, scorching my tight tender twat with manly magnificence. It was like being fucked by the Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Ghost."