Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Wind whipped against the windows of the clergy house, the rain lashing
down, bitter and cold, the stormy night was one of the heaviest in recent
memory, thought Sister Andrea, as she bolted the door of the scullery. 
Following the recent departure of the priest, Sister Andrea was alone in
the house, but still kept to her routine, after her evening devotions she
would make sure the church and house were secure and retire for an early
night.  After locking the back door and, picking up the candle from the
kitchen table, she headed upstairs to her bedroom, a light tapping noise
caused her to stop.  It seemed to be coming from the door she had just
bolted, tap, tap, tap.  Bending down in order to hear more clearly, the tap
came back, tap, tap, faint but distinct.  Reluctant to open up because of
the weather and also nervous to open up because she knew not what to
expect, she dithered for a few moments, shifting her weight from one leg to
the other as if she needed to use the bathroom.  Tap, tap, it continued,
although slightly weaker, tap, tap, tap.  Trusting to God, she unbolted the
latch, and remembering St.  Francis of Assisi, she put her fears of small
animals to the side.  Slowly the door was inched open, it felt as though
something heavy was pushing against it, opening it now a little wider, she
realised a body lay at its foot.  Swinging the door open full, squalls of
rain and wind burst uninvited into the kitchen, extinguishing the candle,
she saw from the light of the moon that it was a body of a young man,
drenched from the storm, laying in despair and in a stupor.  Needing all
her strength, she pulled him into the kitchen, his body a dead weight. 
Closing the door, she shut out the elements and relit the candle, he laid
on the floor his clothes soaking and dripping.  For a moment or two, she
panted, out of breath.  The young man had not moved, her fingers searched
at his naked neck until she found a pulse and issued a deep sigh of relief
when she finally came across the weak throb of his vein.  Laying her palm
across his forehead she realised he was in a fever, she loosened his
collar. It was too late to call the doctor out and the cold tiles of the
kitchen floor were no place for a young man with a fever to be, she must
get him to the spare room, in bed, in the warmth.  Groans was all she could
get out of him when she asked him his name, if he knew where he was, what
had happened to him.  She asked if he could stand, another groan.  Taking
him under the arms, she gently persuaded him to stand, with a great effort
he did, his lolled drowsily as she slowly inched him towards the staircase.
He was quite a tall young man, thin but athletic, she found it easy to
manoeuvre him up the stairs and into the spare room, where she lay him
gently on the single bed.

   A coal fire lit and the tiny room began to warm up.  Once again the
young Nun asked the young man his name, but he seemed to be asleep, his
brow knitted with sweat.  His clothes were soaked right through, `this will
not do his fever any good', she thought, `on the contrary, it will make it
worse, I must get him undressed and into the dry sheets' she decided.  She
began with his shoes, untying the laces and slipping them off along with
his socks, she noticed the dark hairs of his legs.  Next came his coat and
his shirt, his breathing was laboured as she unbuttoned it, he wore no vest
and she came into contact with his bare skin as she twisted and pulled his
shirt off, then laying him gently back down on the bed.  Sitting on the
edge of the bed, she realised that she was in a trance, admiring his male
torso, his masculinity was beautiful, she thought, remonstrating with
herself, she felt his pulse again, `Good.  Getting stronger.' She thought.
Her hand lingered on his chest, trembled a little, and slowly caressed his
chest, running down the length of his body towards his tummy.  Sister
Andrea was becoming excited, a fact she was trying her hardest to ignore,
the same way she was trying to ignore the tingling and dampness between her
legs.  "Now for your trousers and then we can get you into bed." She said
this quite loud, as if to announce what she was about to do, in case he
came to his senses and wondered why a young nun was about to remove his
pants.  After unbuckling his belt, her shaking fingers began to un-button
his trousers, she could feel the bulge of his manhood through his underwear
as her knuckles scraped against it.  All undone, she peeled his trousers
from his legs, folding them up and placing them on a chair, he now lay on
the bed, naked apart from his underpants.  "I think we need these off too."
She said.  Taking a step closer, she curled her fingers into his pants at
each side of his hip and began to slowly peel them off, a shrill of
excitement ran through her whole body as she prolonged the revealing of his
naked maleness.  Slowly she lifted the material over his penis, past his
testicles, her face coming closer to it as she slid his pants down past his
thighs, until removed completely.  He now was completely naked, she could
not stop her eyes been drawn to his semi erect penis, it was only the
second one she had ever seen, the other been her Daddies when she was a
small girl.  In a trance and fascinated by it she lost herself.  She sat
next to the naked young man on the edge of the bed and took hold of his
penis with her forefinger and thumb, lifting it up and examining it, her
other hand began feeling his balls, massaging and measuring them in her
fingers.  She now was beyond damp between her legs, her panties felt
dripping wet, her eyes seemed to sparkle and light up as she noticed his
cock becoming fully erect.  Looking up towards the young man, she made sure
he was still in a state of drowsiness.  His cock looked delicious to her,
she bent down towards it, her fingers wrapped around his shaft and she
gently squeezed it before placing it in her mouth, the taste was amazing,
she had never tasted anything so delightful before.  Licking at his veiny
shaft she sucked harder and harder, her tongue lapping around the head,
then taking him full down, feeling his hardness at the back of her throat,
he groaned and she smiled, a wicked thought crossed her mind.  With the
embroidered cloth belt from her habit and her stockings and suspenders, she
diligently set about tying the young man's wrists and ankles to the corners
of the bed, stopping every so often to stimulate his cock, ensuring it
remained stiff and erect.  He groaned, obviously in distress, but now all
she could think of was sitting on his huge tool, of sliding his big cock
into her wet vagina.  Hitching herself up on the bed, she pulled the skirts
of her black habit up and straddled herself over him, she'd already
discarded her panties and was now in the process of guiding his length into
her.  Letting out a deep satisfied groan as his cock slid up her, she began
to bounce up and down, bouncing hard on his balls as she impaled herself, a
finger pressing her clit as she gushed her sexual juices all over his
shaft, soaking him in her cum, as she climaxed.  Satisfied she quickly
dressed, the young man groaned as he lay there tied to the bed, his aching
tool still hard and excited, his balls still not purged of their cum.  An
evil smile came across Sister Andreas face, thoughts of sexual slavery,
thoughts of the weeks that lay ahead with the house to herself and no one
with any knowledge of the young that lay here in a fever......