𝗠𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗶𝗮 ✟ ⁽ ᴋᴏᴜʀᴀ 𝇁𝇁 ᴏᴜʙʟɪᴇᴛᴛᴇ ⁾

[oubliette]

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[oubliette]

See more James 1:27 KJV "Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world."

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 7th hour​ The benedictine Monastery of Saint Quintin of Anapausis the Old was founded in the 7th century. The people were especially generous to the priory, having the favor of the archbishop, and it prospered greatly. When the rich would die, they often left some of their money or land to the monastery. Land owned by the Saint Quintin Monastery became a source of vast wealth. Twice a year, the nuns would travel to the villages owned by the priory and collect the rent from their tenants. Another source of income was from the pilgrimage of faithful observers who braved the two-day journey up the unreasonably vertical mountains to glimpse and touch the holy relics left by Saint Quintin. And another, closer to the heart of the long-deceased Saint, were the invaluable manuscripts that came out of Anapausis Monastery, whose nuns spent countless hours crafting with ink and quill. By the end of the 13th century, the small religious house had grown into a spectacular holy church, seated atop some of the most treacherous terrain found for hundreds of miles. Its lofty cathedral stretched high out of the precarious cliffsides, glorious in sight. By the 16th century the Monastery had long verified itself as a reputable communion, servicing prayers for the sinful and songs of worship around the clock, nonstop, while most religious houses remained as small establishments. However, as it saw the Augustinian monasteries come and go, and as the century moved into a forward thinking Christiandom society, the secluded and isolated priory had lost its distinctive sympathy as monastic ideals lost their romanticism. In the year 1528, Simon Fish published and argued that the clergy should spend their money in the relief of the poor and not amass it for Nuns to pray for souls. He claimed that the clergy were 'ravenous wolves' who had 'debauched 100,000 women' and that the Anapausis Monastery of Saint Quintin was 'a great scab' who delayed the Bible from being published in 'your mother tongue'. Today, the establishment housed ten Nuns, twelve Initiates, one Abbess, and one Priest; a far shadow of its former self. Bodin and Bayard had been maneuvering their two donkeys over the narrow foot path for two days now. This trail was the only one that led to the great monastery, coming in and going out. The brothers made this journey once every three months to haul goods and supplies up to the sisterhood from Anapausis village, located at the foot of the mountain, and to exchange their letters and messages back and forth. It was routine, but still not without its challenges. Along the way there were a few spots where one misstep would leave you hurling down a cliff to your death. Their two donkeys were surefooted, but still, Bodin needed to whack the ass of the last with a cane to keep it moving along, while Bayard needed to guide the front donkey by the lead. Each animal would take any opportunity to protest the journey. Bodin always insisted that goats were better, while Bayard didn't have the heart to do away with their stubborn pets. They finally made it to the wall of the church and were relieved to pass under the large, stone archway of the receiving courtyard. Two Nuns were diligently waiting their arrival, sister Mary Claudia Goodin and Mary Zosia Scotts. There was no need for introductions between them, and Bodin immediately got to work unloading the donkeys while Bayard greeted the sisters and managed the business. "Greetings, beloved Sisters in Christ." Claudia smiled and nodded her head, "We thank the Lord for your safe travels, Mister Bayard. We pray day and night for you and your brother's protection, and we are always grateful for your arrival. You are ever punctual and dependable." "Well ma'am, we don't mind if the weather fairs it." Bayard adjusted his cap and blushed, "Surely the Lord has something good in store for us, for the challenging journey. As I see it, we are getting the better end of the arrangement." Bayard's gray eyes glinted with humor. Sister Claudia procured a coin purse and handed it to Bayard. "Our heavenly Father always blesses the sacrifices we make; your treasures are rich in heaven." Claudia was a middle-aged woman with a dutiful smile, "If you do not mind, Father Nathaniel has a letter to send down to Anapausis. It needs to be delivered to the magistrate." The voices of Bayard and Claudia carried gently over the foggy, morning air as they continued their business. Sister Zosia helped Bodin unload the supplies. She rolled a small keg of ale over to the side and stole an anxious glance at Claudia, who seemed wrapped up in Bayard's attention. With the coast clear, the young Nun decided this would be a good moment to get her own bartering done. She placed a donkey between her and the sight of Claudia and pulled a small bundle of cotton out of the folds of her habit. The crude cloth was wrapped tightly into a hand sized ball, protecting something small and precious within. She tapped Bodin on the shoulder, and he stopped what he was doing to address her. Bodin knew exactly what she wanted. He promptly reached towards a leather pocket on the saddle of the donkey and pulled out a small package. He slipped it to her as she traded away her own item. It was an easy exchange; fast and silent. He lingered his gaze upon the austere features of the brown-haired Nun, whose color was known by her thin eyebrows. They reminded him of the eyebrows he once saw in the painting of a young maiden, whose breasts were nearly exposed as she lounged upon the lap of a drunken man. Zosia pocketed away her trade and quickly went back to work, sorting the supplies into piles according to their stations. The sooner they could get this done, the sooner she could tend to her own interests.

 

[Koura]

James 2:18 KJV "But someone will say, “You have faith, and I have works.” Show me your faith without your works, and I will show you my faith by my works.."

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 7th hour​ ather Nathaniel leaned against the windowsill, his dark eyes focused on the two nuns in the courtyard. He could recognize both women even if he couldn't see their faces. He had served at the Monastery of Saint Quintin of Anapausis the Old for a better part of twelve years, having been assigned to the position after the previous priest had died of old age. Father Matteo had been almost eighty when God had called him home. The mother church could not allow a covenant to operate without a priest. Having an abbess to manage the meager finances of the monastery was out of the question, no matter how talented the old woman might have been. No woman could ever be allowed to lead without a man's supervision. He had been asked to take Matteo's place, his assignment to the monastery a promotion, at least on paper. Saint Quintin Monastery had been once wealthy and prosperous. Once such an assignment would have been an honor. These days, few priests serving at the monastery would ever leave its halls. Shaking his head, Nathaniel recalled the journey he had taken so many years ago, braving the windswept trail that led to the monastery. He could recall how they had had to seek shelter in the woods, a sudden downpour turning the narrow path into a quagmire. The next day one of the donkeys had broken a leg, further waylaying the small party as the guides gutted and skinned the poor animal. He could still remember the dark blood that had mixed with the puddles on the ground. It had felt oddly fitting, even if the delay had left him fuming. He had had little desire to huddle in the cold rain, not when he should have been sitting by the fireplace with a cup of mulled in his hand. Not that he had much choice on the matter. Bishop Henry had been rather adamant that he make the journey before the first snow fell. He had made it evident he did not trust the old Abbess nor any other woman. Nathaniel had been warned to keep a close eye on his small flock. Nathaniel turned his attention to Claudia, frowning. He had chastised her two days ago, pulling her on his lap and spanking her rear. She had squirmed and whimpered, insisting that she was a good, God-fearing woman. The damp spot on her undergarments had told him she was lying, Claudia grunting with pleasure by the time he had sank his fingers in her drenched pussy. He enjoyed her company a fair bit. She was barren and so he could spill his seed into her without a worry. He knew that Claudia enjoyed their wicked little games a fair bit, even if she couldn't quite bring herself to admit it. He could tell she grew anxious and irritable whenever he saw to the needs of the others, spiritual or otherwise. She craved his touch like a sinner craved for salvation. The thought brought a smile to Nathaniel's lips. Allowing his gaze to drift on the sundial built on the wall, Nathaniel made a mental note to check on Miriam. He had chained the woman on a cross the night before as a punishment for being late to the mass. The young woman had tried to explain that she had been busy folding laundry and had not noticed the passage of time. Nathaniel cared little for her excuses. The little tardy bitch needed to learn her lesson. He hoped that a night spent in prayer in the small chapel would set her right for the time being. Miriam had been trouble the day she had entered the covenant. Reading Matteo's journal, Nathaniel had discovered how the young woman had struggled to find her place in the small community. She had argued with the others, displeased with the tasks that had been given to her. She had been caught sneaking into the kitchens when she should have been sleeping in her chambers. Matteo had tried to help the young woman to feel more at home at the monastery. Nathaniel was certain that the old priest had been too lenient with her. Matteo had been too smitten with Eve's brood. Too weak to see what he should have done. Walking to the coat rack, Nathaniel wrapped a warm cloak around his shoulders. He murmured a short prayer under his breath as he picked up his rattan walking stick, pausing to look around for a moment before stepping out of his room. Nathaniel couldn't leave Miriam chained for much longer. He was rather certain that she ached to use the privy seeing how he had chosen to leave her without a chamber pot. {tr}{td=border:0|bcolor:#e9e6cc|700pxx@}

 

[oubliette]

See more James 1:14-15 KJV "But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin"

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 7th hour​ ife as a dedicated vessel of God was very much about routine, and at Saint Quintin Monastery it was no less the same. As decreed, there were rules to follow, such as praying eight times a day, eating twice a day, attending Mass three times a day, working only with your hands, and not spending your time talking to each other. By the time Morning Mass happened on the 9th hour, the sisters had already prayed twice and had completed a morning chore. For sister Mary Miriam Prichett, laundry was her morning duty and would continue to carry out the responsibilities for another few months. She shared this with one of the priory's Initiates, who were women in the training phase of becoming devout Nuns. Miriam had never been able to adjust to structure. It seemed to just disagree with her very personality. It was the sole reason she had been surrendered to the monastic lifestyle by her parents when she was a young girl, and it was a personal victory she had made it this far in the Nunnery. But she still struggled to grasp the seriousness of being punctual. And when Miriam had sent the Initiate away to rest, for the girl had not been feeling well, Miriam had lost track of the time while engrossed in folding clothes. She panicked, and did her best to sneak into the Chapel to take her spot amongst everyone else as devotions underwent. But she had been noticed. Father Nathaniel had been cracking down on her. He was not like their previous Priest, Father Matteo, who worked her over with grace and patience. Nathaniel made sure that Miriam's penalties were felt deeper, and harder to forget. And they were just increasing in the severity of their punishment as each one occurred. But this time, …this time had been the worst of all. After evening Worship, he had chained her to the giant wooden cross in the chapel and left her there all night long. Miriam wasn't one to reflect deep and hard, but this time Nathaniel had cracked open a new level of determination in her willingness to get it right next time. She hated this punishment. It was terrible, and embarrassing, and difficult to bear all night long. He had her shun the traditional habit of a Nun down to her undergarment, which was a sleeveless white gown suitable for sleeping in, and had chained her to the cross much like how Jesus had been crucified. Miriam had always been a thin girl, with a small frame and red hair. As a kid, the others would jest and say that the wind would bend her over like a reed if it had the mind to blow hard enough. She had at least one freckle on every square inch of her body, and breasts that sloped to a pecked peek with perfect little nipples. The shape of those nubs could be seen through her thin gown like hardened buttons. It was cold through the night in the Chapel, and she had occasionally shivered, and now every muscle in her body ached from being kept in the forced poise. Poor Miriam couldn't even feel her fingers anymore and she needed to relieve herself so very badly. She started crying at first sight of Nathaniel who had finally returned to her in the morning hours. This had not been the first time she had wept and cried, and the big tears rolling down her cheeks revitalized the path of previous ones. She was partly relieved that his return meant this ordeal was almost over. Her legs pressed tightly together in an effort to hold back her desperate need to use the privy. Anxiously her fingers twitched, and her brown eyes pleaded while they held Nathaniel's gaze. "Please forgive me Father, please. I promise to always be on time, it will not happen again. I have prayed all night long asking for God's saving grace." Miriam's voice trembled. "Please forgive my sins." She wouldn't mention how urgently she needed to relieve herself, but it was a demand from her body held front and foremost. Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 11th hour​ He sung of God—the mighty source Of all things—the stupendous force On which all strength depends; From Whose right arm, beneath Whose eyes, All period, pow'r, and enterprise Commences, reigns, and ends.​ When up to heav'n his thoughts he pil'd From fervent lips fair Quintin smil'd, As blush to blush he stood; And chose himself the servant, and gave His utmost from his heart, "so brave, And plays his hymns so good.​ ary Elaine Lorence, for the hundredth time, felt like she couldn't breathe in the silence of the room. Secretly, her big toe was a mad appendage, tapping fervently inside her shoe. She stared at the poem, but never really saw it at all. These Study hours had turned into dreadful periods of longing for the sun to hurry up and pass on by the time. Sometimes she would steal glances at the other two companions sitting alongside her at the round table, just to see if they were showing any signs of visible distress like that which plagued her. But they always seemed at peace, like doves cooing in the afternoon light. Their minds and hands hard at work transcribing the material laid out before them. The rule to keep talking to a minimum was strictly observed during this time, and it only smothered Elaine, making her restless and unsettled. She couldn't concentrate during times like this. She dipped the quill into the bottle of ink to refresh the calamus of the feather, but honestly, it really didn't need it. Her task was to copy the poem into a decorative manuscript with illuminated letters and illustrations. The priory was famous for the quality of written material that came out of its holy walls, distributed amongst the world below. But right now, all she could think about was her long-lost brother, whom she hadn't seen since her days in the orphanage. Elaine was now nineteen years old, and counting up the years, it had been five years since she had been embraced by him. Life in the orphanage had been hard and Elaine's shy and demure nature made her an easy target for the brazen boys. Her brother had always kept her safe from trouble and harm, beating up anyone who looked twice at her. And at night they slept together in the same bed, where her older brother would hug and embrace her. She was too young to be aware of most things about her body, but the way he touched and rubbed her pussy always made her feel so very relaxed and so very good. These days, now that her body was in high tide of sexual need, all she could ever fantasize about was her brother. He occupied all her fantasies at night – the perfect lover. And right now, he was occupying her Study hour. Elaine writhed in her seat ever so slightly, just enough to rock her hips and press the heat of her sex firmly into the chair. She wanted to touch herself so badly right now. It was driving her crazy. Finally the hour had spent itself, and everyone rose up from their tables and desks to clear everything away and carry on with the next duty on their itinerary. Elaine was the slowest, who was ever the diligently careful child of God, and so by the time she had dried the ink on her manuscript, gathered the leather-bound books, and capped the ink bottle, she ended up being the last one lingering about the room, alone. With a stack of books in her two hands she walked over to the back of the room to store them in a closet that had always been quite satisfying for its size. This closet had a blanket hanging in the doorway like a curtain, serving as a barrier. Elaine disappeared into this closet and balanced upon tip toes to slide the books onto a high shelf where they belonged. As she recovered herself from this long stretch her elbow knocked a candle off and it landed with a waxy thud onto the floor. She swiftly retrieved it to return it back, but suddenly stopped and froze. Somehow, the candle in her hand made her sex muscles twitch, and her mind ran with a devious thought. It was about two in a half inch wide and five inches long and seemed perfect for a deprived cunt who would be happy with just about anything right now. She bit her bottom lip thinking hard, thinking twice, …and thinking about her brother. Elaine hiked the dark clothing of her habitual robe up to her hips, along with her chemise, revealing her milky legs covered in thigh-high stockings. Her cunt felt the rush of cool air, and she lifted her right leg to hook the toe of her shoe onto the lip of a drawer, to spread and part herself so nicely. She felt a surge of urgency pump through her veins, terrified at the thought of getting caught, and she skipped all foreplay just to get into the business of things. Besides, she had just now already sat through an entire hour of foreplay while copying a poem and dreaming about her brother, she was so ready to feel the weight of this candle slide into her cunt. She pushed it in and a Mmmmmphff carried across her breath along with a satisfied hiss of love. The way it filled her cunt made her body shiver with stress-releasing trembles. She moved it up and down slowly, pumping her cunt and enjoying every second. Elaine closed her eyes and greedily moaned, still trying to be sneaky and quiet. Who ever knew that candles had such a use? She smiled, thrusting the waxy rod about. It slipped so easily inside of her… she could think of her brother doing this to her… she bet he would do it just like this if she ever saw him again…. "Elaine!"… "Elaine, you dirty little thing!"… Thud!! The candle dropped to the floor. Elaine shot her eyes open to see Zosia in the doorway of the closet. She had one hand on the curtain, holding it aside. "Z..Zosia!" She stammered in surprise. "Wha..what are you doing here?" Heat burst into Elaine's face as she felt utterly mortified and embarrassed. Oh God oh God oh God… Elaine dropped her leg from where it had been propped and swooped her robe back down into place. "Um…" Oh Jesus Oh Jesus! Zosia scowled at Elaine. Something bumped into Elaine's shoe, and she looked down to see the candle. Ohhh, Jesus save me! Elaine quickly bent over and picked the candle up, and then returned it back onto the shelf. Gods what am I doing? Her fingers trembled as she released it. For some reason it didn't feel right to return it…being soiled as it were, but Elaine had bigger problems. "Ohhh Zosia, please don't tell anyone." Zosia now sucked a gasp of air into her lungs, seemingly offended, "I must! You would have me abide in sin keeping secrets such as this?" Elaine visibly trembled at the thought of everyone knowing what she had done. It wasn't like she did this all the time. This was her first time doing something like this. "No, no that is not wh… Sister Zosia wait!" Elaine reached out and grabbed part of Zosia's sleeve to keep her from leaving. "Please let's talk about this. Please." "What is going on? What are you two doing in here?" Both girls jumped in startled surprise, hearing the voice of Sister Claudia. Zosia turned around to face Claudia, and Elaine timidly stepped forward. They both stood silent, not knowing how to answer the older Nun. Zosia clenched her jaw and Elaine dropped her eyes to the floor. "Where should you be right now?" Claudia continued poking with new questions… "I was helping Elaine clean up after Study hour, please forgive. Some books fell from the shelf, and we were returning them to their places." Zosia grabbed Elaine's hand and started to guide her along. Zosia was the same age as Elaine, and both girls swiftly headed for the door. "We are finished, and we will hurry along, thank you ma'dam." The two girls pushed out into the hall, escaping from Claudia, and picked up pace down the hallway. Zosia squeezed Elaine's hand and strictly whispered to her, "This is not over."

 

[Koura]

Proverbs 10:16-17 KJV "The wage of the righteous leads to life, the gain of the wicked to sin. Whoever heeds instruction is on the path to life, but he who rejects reproof leads others astray. "

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 7th hour​ ighing, Nathaniel walked down a flight of old stone stairs, the steps uneven. The stone was smooth beneath his feet, the slabs of stone worn by centuries of footsteps. Generations of nuns and priests had lived and died in the hallowed halls of Saint Quintin of Anapausis. Sometimes Nathaniel could feel their presence. Not in any real sense. He didn't quite believe in ghosts. But seeing the names of his predecessors chiseled on the chapel wall certainly left him feeling uneasy. Each man who had served at the monastery before him had been buried beneath the ancient chapel. If he could not figure a way out, one day his bones would join those of his predecessors. If Nathaniel could not escape his fate, he would at least make sure he enjoyed his time at the remote monastery. He knew he could always pour his frustrations into the nuns he was responsible for. There was precious little the women could do to avoid him. Feeling a little peckish and figuring that Miriam could wait a little longer, Nathaniel decided to make a little detour. He headed towards the large kitchens that fed the small congregation. Centuries ago, the monastery had had dedicated kitchen staff. Nowadays, one nun could prepare meals for everyone living in the monastery. Pulling a heavy door open, he slipped into the warm room, waving his hand to greet Sister Tabitha before picking up a loaf of freshly baked bread. "Good morning, Sister," he greeted the young woman, Tabitha blushing as she moved to stir a large put sitting on a stove. "God be with you," Nathaniel quipped before stepping out into the hallway, Tabitha exhaling with relief. Her plump rear still bore the welts from the caning she had received less than a week ago. The abbess had caught Tabitha in her room resting when she should have been tidying the kitchen. Incensed, the old woman had dragged her to Nathaniel. Insisting Tabitha to be chastised. The abbess had remained in the room, watching Nathaniel cane the poor woman with a smile on her lips. Nathaniel bit down on the small loaf, happily chewing the soft and warm bread as he made his way toward the chapel, his walking stick clacking against the paved floor. Miriam could hear his footsteps well before he could see the tall priest, the young woman having all the right to believe that her misery was about to come to an end. "Child, calm down." Nathaniel chided the distraught nun, taking a bite from the bread as he walked to her. "You know what you did, don't you?" They had had a similar discussion the night before. He had made certain that Miriam knew why he had her chained to the cross. She would know that God demanded her submission. Her desires would only lead her astray. Nathaniel had told her as much. "Have you learned your lesson?" he asked her, lifting his cane and jabbing it into her belly, smiling as he did so. "Have you confessed your sins before the God, child?" The wooden cane dug into her belly once more, Nathaniel quite enjoying himself as he tormented the weary and desperate nun. He drank deep of her discomfort. "You tardy little cunt," Nathaniel shook his head, his voice brimming with resentment. Close as he was, chances were that Miriam could smell the bread he held in his hand. He was not done with her. Dropping what remained of the half-eaten bread on the floor, he stepped closer to Miriam and wrapped his fingers around her curls. Tugging hard, he forced the young nun to meet his gaze, ire gleaming in his eyes. "I should have had you flogged, you useless little shit," he hissed. "But I took pity on you. Letting you seek penance like a decent human being." Nathaniel did not bother to explain how being chained to a large cross was somehow more humane than corporal punishment. He tugged her hair again, making sure to hurt the young woman. He wanted her to understand that he would allow no tardiness. Sighing, he let go of Miriam's hair, scowling as he pressed his face close to hers. Nathaniel wanted her to fear him. Fear always begot obedience, he knew. "Maybe I made a mistake? Maybe I should have had you flogged instead?" The tall priest snarled, prodding her belly with his cane once more. He allowed the poor woman no mercy or respite. It was his duty to make sure she feared God.

 

[oubliette]

Acts 3:19 KJV "Repent therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out"

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 7th hour​ ou know what you did, don't you? Have you learned your lesson?" Oh yes, Miriam knew what she had done. She understood quite well by now. She had spent all night long chained to the cross in reflection of her tardiness. Her face transformed with genuine honesty, the kind that was desperate for someone to believe her words. "Yes Father, I was lazy and irresponsible, and made myself tardy." She sobbed back some tears, "I've learned my lesson I promise it will not happen again." Then he jabbed her in the tummy with his cane, and Miriam winced in discomfort. He couldn't see how her bladder was filled to the brim, and he couldn't possibly know how she felt like she would lose her pelvic floor right there at that moment. Or maybe he did. But she held back the urge to reveal to Nathaniel how badly she needed to relieve herself. Her front teeth bit down and dragged into her bottom lip, and her breath shuddered. The back of her mind flooded with desperate pleas, trying to convince her body not to urinate right now. "Have you confessed your sins before the God, child? You tardy little cunt." "Yes Father, the Lord knows my sins, I have prayed and repented. May God please forgive me." Miriam dropped her gaze to the floor. Looking anywhere right now was better than looking at his face. Hearing the word cunt was harsh for the young nun, but she accepted whatever came from Nathaniel's mouth. The sweet-smelling bread suddenly fell to the floor where she had been looking, spreading crumbs across the stonework. Then her hair was in his grasp, and a forceful tug made her dart visage back at him where she met his gleaming ire. "I should have had you flogged, you useless little shit," Dread washed into her, and new tears became heavy in the corners of her eyes. But he kept pulling relentlessly at her red hair, bound in his fist, causing her scalp stinging pain. Miriam cried with distress and whimpered with newfound fear. Her wrists pulled into the chains that held her to the cross, wanting so badly to help assist and ease the tension off her head before he ripped hair out. "Maybe I made a mistake? Maybe I should have had you flogged instead?" "Nooo Father," Miriam trembled at the thought of being flogged. She could feel the power and force behind his words; the real threat that lingered, as she knew he had flogged other nuns before. "I beg you please spare me! I repent of my tardiness Father, I will not be late again, Lord be my witness." Miriam gasped suddenly with heavy breath and clenched her eyes shut when he poked her belly once more. This time he pushed exceedingly far, and relentlessly jabbed into her, giving her bladder no respite. Oh God please nooooo! She yelled in her mind at her own body to not give it up, but the pressure was just too great. She felt her pelvic muscles squirt just a little amount of urine and felt the sensation of warm liquid running down her legs. It was so embarrassing! She wished it had never happened. She tried to pretend that it didn't happen. Maybe he wouldn't notice. But once it happened, her body was now determined to release everything it had been holding back for hours. Miriam clammed up as stiff as possible, and pressed her legs together, now praying for the strength to not urinate all over the place.

 

[Koura]

Lamentations 3:1-3 KJV "I am the man who has seen affliction under the rod of his wrath; he has driven and brought me into darkness without any light; surely against me he turns his hand again and again the whole day long."

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 7th hour​ athaniel frowned as Miriam sobbed, tilting his head to the side. Her fear seemed genuine, leaving him feeling warm inside. He couldn't help but smile. The insolent little wench had learned her lesson. Not that this kept Nathaniel from toying with her. He was having fun, Miriam's desperate pleas leaving him feeling a little giddy. Nathaniel quite enjoyed his duties, even if it meant he had to hurt someone. Pain was a lesser evil, the threat of damnation looming above every sinner. Even here, among the people who had dedicated their lives to God, sin was rife. He could smell it. The nuns had grown soft under Matteo's leadership. He had allowed them indulgences Nathaniel could not quite understand. The old man had not wanted to carry out the task given to him. He had been weak. Nathaniel believed that the nuns had charmed or seduced the old man. He could see no other reason for his leniency. A man of his position ought to have known better. "May God in his almighty wisdom forgive your sins," he huffed, shaking the young woman, caring little if he hurt her. Nathaniel saw her shudder, smiling softly as his cane sank into her belly. "You better be on time from now on," Nathaniel murmured, taking half a step back. "If you are late one more time, I'll make sure you can't sit for a week." Claudia had likely told her sisters just how callous and vicious he could be. In some ways, she was protecting her reputation. Claudia didn't want to be known as Nathaniel's whore and so she spun lies about how the priest hated her even when in reality she craved his touch. On the other hand, she had tasted his displeasure and knew well what sort of man she was dallying with. "You better watch yourself, sister." His voice dripped with sheer malice. That was when Miriam lost control of her bladder, the poor young woman soiling herself a little. Not that Nathaniel could tell, his eyes focused on her tortured features. "Alright, perhaps you've learned your lesson." Tugging the cane he had been holding under his arm, the incensed priest pulled a key from his robes. Offering a soft smile to the terrified and disgraced nun, he moved to slowly undo the chains that kept her hands in place. Unaware of Miriam's predicament, Nathaniel took his time, the old and worn locks requiring some fiddling. The key became stuck a few times, forcing him to bash the locks against the wood to dislodge it. The battered key refused to turn despite his best efforts, the tall man sighing in frustration. Nathaniel grunted, making a note to ask one of the nuns to oil the locks. What must have felt like an eternity later, a soft clicking sound letting the distressed young nun to know she was free, her body undoubtedly sore after a night spent at an awkward position. "Off you go then, sister." Grabbing her robes, he tugged hard, pulling Miriam into his arms. His hands wrapped around her waist as he pressed her close, the young nun likely able to feel something hard pressing against her lower belly. Nathaniel had no intention to ravage here. Not here, not yet. "Do you think you can stand on your own feet?" he asked her, his voice now softer and more mellow. "Can you?" Stepping back, he nudged Miriam, half expecting her to stumble down on the floor.

 

[oubliette]

See more James 4:11-12 KJV "Do not speak evil against one another, brothers. The one who speaks against a brother or judges his brother, speaks evil against the law and judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge. There is only one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to save and to destroy. But who are you to judge your neighbor?"

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 13th hour​ ere it was, the thirteenth hour, when afternoon Mass was over and preparations in the kitchen were underway for supper. Sister Tabitha was always in the kitchen, as she was the head cook for the entire Monastery. Years of cooking had tailored Tabitha into a dependable chef for many numbers, but she always had a disciple or two underfoot to help in the menial tasks. At this hour, Zosia and Elaine were both appointed duty in the kitchen. Tabitha went about rearranging things, taking inventory, shuffling produce around, and counting onions, while Zosia and Elaine hovered over a large chopping block, prepping carrots for the beef stew. They worked in awkward silence for a long time. Long enough for Elaine to start grasping straws in her mind. Zosia was still insisting she would report Elaine to Father Nathaniel, and Elaine was running into dead ends with her. So, if begging wouldn't move a mountain, Elaine decided to turn the heat up on Zosia. She leaned over the chopping block to shorten the distance between their ears and spoke very softly so that Tabitha would not hear. It didn't befit Elaine to be menacing towards anyone, but desperate measures called for desperate actions, "You never answered my question earlier." She frowned, and grabbed another carrot, never skipping a step in the chore assigned to her. "What exactly were you doing visiting the closet?" She glared at Zosia while her hands shaved the knife along the length of the carrot, shedding off the outer skin. "You should have been in Devotionals, not visiting the clerical closet." Zosia glowered, but she kept on chopping the carrot up into small slices, wary of her fingers, "What are you on about?" "Don't think me a fool, Zosia. I know why you were there." Elaine tossed the finished carrot into a growing pile of them, waiting for Zosia to chop them up. Elaine grabbed a new carrot and started to work on it. "I know you are stealing vials of ink. I know you came to the closet to get more. I see you out my bed chamber window every time Bayard and Bodin visit us. I see you trading them off for something." She paused, taking a swift moment to look over her shoulder towards Tabitha, to ensure the Nun was still out of eavesdropping distance. "What are you trading them for, hmm?" Elaine returned to skinning the carrot, but her eyes jabbed towards Zosia. "…something small, like sweets perhaps? Or maybe a drug?" There was a hardened countenance over Zosia, who didn't seem bothered by the accusation. For anything worth it all, she shrugged it off her shoulders as if it never landed. Zosia had some street smarts, and she recognized blackmail for what it was, seemingly confident as her knife chopped slices. "Hush Elaine, don't think my sin is as heavy as yours. A slut in the closet is far more damning than a missing bottle of ink. Mind your own business and manage your own sins." Elaine fumed back, audibly reined in, "I would love to manage my own sins, but you want to take them to Father Nathaniel! Remember Zosia, a sin is a sin, no matter how small." She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, "If you report me to the Priest, I will also report you." She went back to shaving the carrot, and added as an afterthought, "Besides, we should be looking out for one another, not squandering away over such things. You've seen Father Nathaniel, how he punishes us. He is not reasonable, like Father Matteo was." Zosia slipped her hand across the board pushing slices of carrots to the side, and then picked up a new carrot. Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. A small smile shaped the corner of her mouth. "Tell me Elaine…who were you fantasizing about as you fucked yourself?" "Oh pleeease, how is that of any concern in this matter?" "You were thinking about him, weren't you?" "Him? Him who?" Elaine was genuinely puzzled. "Father Nathaniel of course, the only him around here that matters." "I would never." "Of course you would. Everyone else does. He is the only one with a cock around here." "Zosia!" Elaine gasped, and her cheeks went red. But they grew red not in thought of Nathaniel's manhood, but because she had been fantasizing about her own brother. For some reason, that just felt like a greater taboo. Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 8th hour​ iriam shuddered in utter despair. Her eyeballs were breaking the oars out, in hopes of staying afloat in the flood. She wished she never had drunk the soup broth last meal or had the cup of water when she had finished in the garden. These small indulgences were now punishing her as her bladder ached to be emptied. Although her eyelids were closed shut, they trembled with great duress. She would never forgive herself if she urinated right here, right now. "You better watch yourself, sister." Miriam whimpered, and there went her urine. Her pelvic muscles couldn't resist any longer, especially with Nathaniel poking his cane into her belly impossibly hard. Against her own willpower, her bladder dumped the flood, and the inward sides of her legs became soaked as urine flowed to the stonework on the ground. A small wet spot appeared where both of her bare feet were standing. Nathaniel was releasing her from the cross, but Miriam started quietly sobbing again, unbearably ashamed of what had just happened. She remained silent about it though, but her mind was racing and praying to God that he wouldn't notice. A million prayers a minute she sent up to the Lord, asking him to grant Nathaniel the wisdom on how to remove the padlocks as quickly as possible. She was afraid to look down at her article of clothing, the undergarment, to see if she had soaked any of it. What would Father Nathaniel say if he saw what she had done? Would he punish her again? Would he laugh at her? Would he shame her in front of everyone? Desperately she tried to hold back what was left in her bladder, but also knew that it was too late to salvage her dignity here if Nathaniel noticed. Finally, her wrists came free from the cross, and she slowly brought them down to her petite body. They ached, along with the muscles up her sides and in her lungs; everything sore from being forced into that position for hours on end. She felt panicked when he grabbed her waist and pulled her into him. She feared he would detect her accident. And she could feel the shape of his wonderful bulge. She struggled to bring memory into her legs on how to stand and support her own weight, as fast as possible. "Do you think you can stand on your own feet?" And she nodded her head in support of a positive report, "Yes Father, I can stand." But then it happened…but how did it happen?! She didn't know, but she found herself falling to the ground. Were her legs just too weak to stand?! Did she trip? No… ..no, she had slipped! For heaven's sake don't say I slipped on my own puddle of urine! Miriam would have fallen if Nathaniel hadn't had been there as a brace. She was mortified. Quickly she made sure to stand upright without his assistance, and her face was hot red. "Umm…" she just couldn't do it. Miriam could not look him in the eyes. She fidgeted in awkwardness with that damn elephant looming in the room. He knew. How could he not know? She just wanted to run away; the embarrassment was that heavy upon her. "Thank you for teaching me a lesson Father," she was exceedingly nervous, "thank you for your grace," Miriam danced with words, stammering the same thing over because she couldn't think straight, "thank you for…for guiding me into what is right…thank you." She gave the Priest a small curtsey, and then hiked her undergarment up and ran off…away from the cross, away from him, away from that small pool of urine. She ran down the aisle of the Chapel and through the heavy doors. So humiliated. Miriam never paused to look, but she could imagine a trail of wet footprints following behind. ​ {tr} Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 20th hour​ hen an initiate made the long journey into becoming a Nun, it was customary for a change in their name. Different religious Cloisters went about this in different ways, but for the Monastery of Saint Quintin, the new Nun would be given the name Mary to proceed her own. Mary Zosia Scotts never exactly appreciated this when it happened to her. Indeed, she loved the blessed virgin Mary like a mother she never had, but she just didn't enjoy the feeling of blending in and disappearing into the reservoir of all the other Nuns. The monastic lifestyle worked so hard in merging everyone into One Body, One Church, A Unit of One when all Zosia wanted was to be herself. As she was pushed deeper and deeper into the ritualistic lifestyle, it became even more important to hold on to whatever individuality she had left. Elaine made the argument that they needed to look out for one another, but this was not how Zosia was raised. And besides, how was she ever going to get noticed by Father Nathaniel? Sister Claudia was such a covetous bitch over Nathaniel, who gave any Sister one hell of a day if she thought she witnessed any affection happening towards the Priest. The only way to work around Claudia was to, instead, work Nathaniel's affection towards you first. Or, if not his affection, then his punishment. Because Zosia was not afraid of his cruelty at all. Sometimes she craved to be the one being punished, if only to be noticed by him. Elaine would be alright. How dare she fantasize about him, anyways. And then lie about it to her face. This would teach her to stop fucking around in closets with candlesticks, and most of all, teach her to stop fantasizing about Nathaniel. The opportunity was too great for Zosia to pass up. Who would pass up the chance to be with Nathaniel alone, in his own bedchamber? This gave her a reason to be there. It was late at night now, and everyone had retired to their private rooms except for the one whose duty at this hour was to keep praise in song uplifted to the Lord, in the room of worship on the other side of the Cathedral. Zosia knocked on Father Nathaniel's door, hoping he was in there, and hoping he was alone. In her hands, wrapped up in a cloth, she had the exact candle that Elaine had fucked herself with, in case Nathaniel demanded proof for her story. When he answered, she stepped into his room and shut the door behind her. "I am sorry Father for bothering you at this time of night, but I wanted to privately bring to you a matter that concerns Sister Mary Elaine." Zosia held her hands forward and let the cloth unravel enough to reveal the white, waxy object, "I found her today disgracing herself with this candle."

 

[Koura]

Galatians 5:19-21 KJV "Now the works of the flesh are evident, which are: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.""

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 8th hour​ ispleasure flickered on Nathaniel's as he watched her stumble. He caught her in his arms, huffing as she slumped against him. Tall and strong, he could easily support her weight. "Look at yourself, cunt!" Nathaniel grunted as he held the small woman for a moment, Miriam feeling so very frail. He was certain he could break her if he ever wanted. He could turn her into his little bitch should he ever grow bored of Claudia. Exhaling softly, he let his hands slip down to her waist, his fingers sinking into her round rump. Nathaniel paused to wonder if Miriam was truly a virgin as she claimed or if she had bedded someone before joining the convent. In theory, the Christ's brides were expected to be untouched, but this was not always the case in practice. Many of the nuns had had lovers or had been raped before taking the veil. The mother Church chose to turn a blind eye to such matters. He held the young woman until she regained both her balance and composure, patting her shoulder as she stammered her apologies. "Of course. That is what I am here for," Nathaniel almost purred, the frown on his lips turning into a soft smile. He could see the puddle she had left by the cross, curious to see if Miriam would admit to having soiled herself like a little girl. Curious if she would try to act as if nothing had happened. Two could play the game. "If you have any worries, you can come to me, sister." he reassured her, amused that Miriam was trying to pretend as if she hadn't made a mess. As if he couldn't tell. "You know that, don't you?" Cupping her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. "I am here for all of you," For a moment, his tone rang with kindness, his voice now mellow. "Go now," Nathaniel dismissed the small nun, stepping back. " "And once you've had your breakfast, come back and clean your mess, will you?" Amusement rang in his voice, Father Nathaniel smirking as the young nun dashed out of the chapel disgraced. He was certain she had learned her lesson. {tr}{td=border:0|bcolor:#e9e6cc|700pxx@} Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 20th hour​ ather Nathaniel was indeed in his rooms, lost in his thoughts as Zosia knocked on his door. He wore nothing but a linen nightgown, the contours of his body well visible through the thin cloth. Having entertained Claudia an hour earlier, he felt a little weary. The devout little nun had spent a good while worshiping his cock, the poor woman almost choking herself on his length. She had been rather eager to make Nahtaniel empty his balls in her mouth. Much to Nathaniel's chagrin, Claudia had been a little over-eager with her affections, her teeth scraping the soft skin of his manhood. He had been forced to chastise her accordingly, having her sit on the desk while he had spanked her dripping pussy. She had squirmed and whimpered, struggling to keep her legs spread open like a good little girl. Once he had been certain that his little bitch her learned her lesson, he had sunk his cock into her aching pussy, fucking her on his desk without any remorse. Nathaniel could tell that the needy little cunt wanted him. Needed him even. He saw no reason to refuse her advances, even if she was a little older than he would have preferred. "What is it, sister?" Nathaniel beckoned Zosia into his room, beckoning her to take a seat by his desk. While he had straightened the tablecloth that covered the wooden surface, he hadn't bothered to do anything with the large wet spot that had been left on the worn cotton. The callous priest cared little if his visitor saw the stain. Here, far from the prying eyes of the Church, he held the supreme authority. "Please tell me what is on your mind?" he asked, frowning softly. A large, ostentatious oil lamp dangling from the wall bathed him in warm yellow light, the flickering fires causing the shadows cast by his robes to slowly dance across his body. "Sister Elaine?" Nathaniel frowned. He could well recall the young, seemingly timid woman. While he considered her fetching, had had no particular reason to involve himself with her. She rarely stood out, managing the duties assigned to her. He could recall caning her once, but could not quite remember why he had chosen to punish her. She did what?" An eyebrow rose, Nathaniel tilting his head even as his eyes honed on the candle Zosia held in her hands. He wondered what had possessed Elaine to relieve herself in such a manner. He had somehow thought her to be devoted and innocent. It was not that he could not see her faults — Father Matteo had written extensively about each and every nun. Nathaniel knew roughly why the young woman was at the monastery. How she had struggled with her family. How she had ostensibly found peace at Saint Quintin."Are you certain, Sister? With that? I take you caught her in the act?" the tall priest spread his hand, disgust flickering on his features. "Please, tell me everything." Nathaniel's voice rang with the oldest hungers, his body slowly stirring once more. He knew he was a slave to the urges of his flesh just as he knew that God's mercy had bounds. He believed that sin brought him closer to God. He could feel God's presence most acutely whenever he confessed his sins, His mercy washing over him. In sin, Nathaniel found God.

 

[oubliette]

Isaiah 21:11 KJV "He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night?"

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 20th hour​ osia slipped into the chair offered to her by his desk, carefully. She had never been inside Nathaniel's private room before. It was much larger than the rooms assigned to the Nuns and Initiates. She had brown eyes, deep and sharp, and they fixed upon the large oil lamp casting a warm glow, hanging from the wall. It seemed quite lavish with the intricate copper design when compared to anything found in her own room. She felt a slight victory as she settled into the chair, though not comfortable enough to suggest she would be here long. Her back remained straight and stiff and her knees pressed together in polite formality, but it had nothing to do with modesty at all. Zosia was keeping this visit professional, but only because she was expected to, not because she wanted to. The oil lamp had offered a small aversion from the true attraction sitting in the room. In his nightgown, the Priest appeared no less superior in his influence or power. It seemed to never fade from him, and Zosia believed he was ever clothed naturally in this air of confidence and control. It made her more attracted to him, stirring her nether regions alive. And it made her think directly upon Elaine once more how she lied over who she had been fantasizing about. There was no doubt Nathaniel had been the entity of her sly habits. Zosia wanted Elaine punished for that, because in a way, she also coveted Nathaniel much like Claudia did, only from her own allotted distance. Zosia nodded, and leaned forward and placed the candle upon his desk, along with the linen it was wrapped in. "Yes Father, I did catch her in the act, with this very candlestick" She pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to lick their slippery hills and appear taken by him. But it was such a rare sight to see Nathaniel wearing anything other than his traditional robes, that were always so very bulky and concealing. His frame beneath the nightgown was perfect, and the yellow glow from the oil lamp made everything appear so righteous and glorious. Zosia continued, giving him the details he was asking for, while her gaze now measured him, "Yes, may Mary mother of Jesus bless my coming and going, I was passing along the East wing when I heard some noise that I thought out of place. The sound led me to the clerical closet, and when I drew back the curtain, I saw Elaine who was in the act of defiling her temple." Zosia's gaze now dropped down to the desk, back upon the white candle, but she noticed a wet spot in the tablecloth on his side of the desk. Her brows pressed together in puzzlement, but she continued her report, "…I pray Jesus forgives the image imprinted upon my mind, but she had her legs spread wide, and was shoving the object into her…" … "I, I am sorry Father, did you spill something upon your desk?" Zosia's curiosity got the best of her, and she broke focus to inquire about the soiled spot. "I will take that with me when I leave and will have that laundered for you?" Zosia's voice came soft and fluent, like a bird trying to serenade the sun. If anything, the task would give her reason to return at another time, and perhaps even another chance to find him in his nightgown. It was wonderful mind candy.

 

[Koura]

Matthew 6:13 KJV "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.".

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 20th hour​ amnation. Salvation. Those were the only true concerns a true believer had. The threat of ever-burning fires of hell hung upon everyone. Everyone was a sinner, mankind having lost the right to stand by God's side because of Eve. A woman had broken the covenant man had once held with the divine. For this transgression, this God had cursed her and her daughters. This was why women could not be trusted with anything serious. This was why women were expected to be subservient to men. This was why Nathaniel was at Saint Quintin. He was to keep the nuns in check, to guide and counsel them. Their problems were his problems, one way or another. The bishop had emphasized how he expected Nathaniel to correct the errors Matteo might have made. Nathaniel turned his gaze on Zosia, wondering if she was devout or if she simply couldn't get along with Elaine. Women were petty creatures and the nuns serving at the monastery were no exception. Matteo's journals had several entries dedicated to the old priest trying to make sure that the nuns got along. He had had only a modicum of success. Nathaniel was certain that Matteo didn't quite understand women. He didn't quite seem to grasp just how undisciplined and petty Eve's brood truly was. Nonetheless, Zosia had done right to report what she had seen. The nuns were expected to look after one another, to help and support each other. "It is good that you came to me," he offered her a soft smile, his expression warm and mellow. Zosia had done well and he would reward her for it. "Did she try to explain herself? Make any excuses?" Nathaniel asked, reaching to place his hand on Zosia's shoulder. "It is alarming that the poor girl would do something like that. Something must ail her." Matteo's journals had made it rather clear that several nuns struggled with their vows. Brides of Christ as they might have been, but lust still burnt between their legs. Claudia had confessed to defiling her body multiple times, Matteo seemingly at a loss on what to do with her predicament. He had recommended the troubled nun to spend her evenings in prayer. His efforts to quell the lust that gripped Claudia had been for naught, the middle-aged woman succumbing to her desires despite her best efforts. She simply couldn't keep her fingers off her little nub. "Perhaps I should talk with her. Help her atone." Nathanial imagined Elaine knelt between his legs, his cock between her small lips. It seemed prudent to talk with Elaine. Chances were that they could find a common ground. There was no reason for the poor girl to defile herself with a candle when Nathaniel was more than willing to bed her. The wicked priest had problems imagining the scene Zosia described, his mind conjuring images of Elaine hiking her robes up, her cheeks flushed as she rammed the candle into her little snatch. Even if he had spilled his seed a mere hour earlier, he could feel his sizeable manhood growing hard once more. The thin robes he wore did little to hide his arousal. If Zosia were to glance down, she could easily see just how badly the needs of the flesh tormented Nathaniel. "You never disgrace yourself in such a manner, sister?" he asked, the oldest of hungers creeping into his voice. "Be honest with me." The hand that rested on her shoulder slipped down on her thigh, giving the nervous nun a gentle squeeze. "Worry not, your secrets are safe with me. Think of this as a confessional." Nathaniel licked his lips, his eyes drinking deep of Zosia. ​

 

[oubliette]

Romans 7:18 KJV "For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out."

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 20th hour​ ne would argue if this was how to express looking after one another. Father Nathaniel, and Priests in general, encouraged the nuns to come to them with any problem, issue, or doubt, or struggle. They were encouraged to make an appearance at least twice a week in the confessional box, for the less devout. And for those with a closer conscious towards salvation, even more often. This holy sacramental relationship between priest and nun had become tarnished over so many years, burdened by catholic hardships and human needs. Priests labored to maintain this habit nevertheless, and nuns continued to abide by it, albeit within scrutiny. It had become a political tool for some. "It is good that you came to me." Zosia barely nodded her head when Nathaniel spoke; a hint of triteness curtained her expression. Because, ..if only he knew the real reason why she had come. It wasn't in observance of looking after Elaine. Those emotions were reserved for the nuns who feared damnation and were blessed with a golden heart – like Elaine. Instead, Zosia had a burning need to become noticed by Nathaniel. If Elaine became punished as a result, that was only a cherry to top off these efforts. "Did she try to explain herself? Make any excuses?" Nathaniel had ignored her questions about the tablecloth. It didn't bother her; it was trivial anyways. She loved how decisive he was with matters at hand. "Not so much with excuses, Father, but more-so adamant that you wouldn't find out about it." Zosia shrugged her shoulders, letting them linger for a breath, cloying with the details, before Nathaniel laid his hand down upon her. "I imagine she is fearful of punishment." His resting hand on her shoulder felt relaxed, and steady. She pretended to feel casual about it, but the contact was more exhilarating for her than what felt appropriate. "It is alarming that the poor girl would do something like that. Something must ail her." "She seems perfectly healthy Father, in body. It must be an ailment of the mind. I am for certain her flesh can endure some punishment so that her mind can make amends and find restitution in her soul." Zosia spoke softly, to counteract the rawness her words were suggesting. "Perhaps I should talk with her. Help her atone." "Yes Father. May our virgin Mary bless your efforts." "You never disgrace yourself in such a manner, sister?" Zosia's breath caught in her lungs, as suddenly she became the subject of discussion. Her lips parted, but hinged, and failed to provide an immediate response. Her eyes blinked downwards, down his frame, and she saw the essence of his manhood interrupting the natural lay of his nightgown. It was either perfect timing, or not. But undoubtedly by his design did his words bring to mind for the young nun his cock, which her eyes obeyed into action. Brown depths rested at his groin, now lingering alongside her words, still stumbling around. "Be honest with me." His hand slipped from her shoulder down to her thigh, and her lungs remembered to do something. She breathed, exhaling the breath that had seized her, and her body slipped forward on the chair just an eager inch. She was now rolling down a hill, in her mind. This was more than what she had imagined would happen tonight, and she was willing to roll with it all the way down to the bottom of the slope. "Worry not, your secrets are safe with me. Think of this as a confessional." She wasn't as nervous as she was smothered in pleasant surprise. He was touching her thigh, sending an electrical current straight into the apex of her sex. Her spine straightened, initiating her hand sized breasts into a rise where their form enhanced beneath the traditional garb of a Nun. Now her eyes rose up, bold and imploring to find his drinking gaze, "Not in such a manner Father, not like that…not with a candlestick, in a closet." She paused for a moment, and then took the dive, faster than any norm; her desires already fueling any self-preservation. "But I do struggle sometimes, thinking about you…imagining you. It will burn in me, and I find myself touching my body before I know it. I fear my lust will take me into Hell, Father. But I can't help it sometimes, you are everywhere, always in my thoughts."

 

[Koura]

Matthew 26:41 KJV "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."

Wednesday January 8th, 1530 - 20th hour​ osia could see hunger flickering in Nathaniel's eyes, his body stirring into life. "She should know better, she really should," he sighed, shaking his head. He made no effort to hide his erection, acting as if the needs of his flesh were perfectly normal. Nathaniel was curious to see how Zosia would react to such an inappropriate sight. Claudia could not keep her fingers off his manhood once revealed, the older nun happy to play with his length. Sometimes he thought she could not get enough of him. "She should be," Nathaniel murmured, glancing at the walking stick that leaned against the wall by the door. He was rather certain he could persuade the young woman to stop defiling herself in such an ungainly manner. She merely needed some firm guidance. Nathaniel imagined the young woman naked, her small frame bent over his desk. She deserved to be punished, having broken her vows. Besides, Nathaniel was itching to hurt and use her. Zosia had offered him a perfect excuse to summon the fetching young nun into his rooms. "We must root out all such impurities," Nathaniel murmured, his dark eyes meeting Zosia's for a moment. She could hear the zeal in his voice. While the new priest was undeniably harsh, none could doubt his faith and conviction. Nathaniel was a man of God. "We are all sinners, sister. There's no escaping that. But in Christ, we are Redeemed." he added, his gaze turning to the large crucifix hanging from the wall above his lavish bed. "Elaine should know this." He had always thought Elaine to be someone proper. Nathaniel had not expected her to be a debauched little skank. "Alas," sighing, he turned his attention to Zosia as she confessed to her sins. He could not help smiling as Zosia blinked, knowing that he had caught her. Knowing that he had her at his mercy. He offered her a reassuring squeeze, his hand slowly inching up along her thigh. "Go on sister. Tell me," his voice was both mellow and hoarse from arousal, his eyes intent on Zosia. She had his undivided attention. "Of course not," Nathaniel smiled, shadows flickering on his handsome features. "Mhmhm. Me?" The callous priest managed to sound surprised even as his fingers sank deeper into Zosia's thigh. "Poor child," holding to her tight, he reached to cup her chin, making sure that she could not escape his gaze. Making sure she could not look away. "Have you suffered for long?" licking his lips, Nathaniel brushed his thumb over her cheek, his touch soft and delicate. "You poor little thing," he trailed her lips with his thumb, letting Zosia feel his touch. "Let me soothe you," Nathaniel murmured, his voice soft and enticing. "I can make you feel better, sister," Fully aware of what he was doing to the poor woman, he eased his thumb into her mouth. "The fires of the Hell wait for the unrepentant," the tall priest murmured, pulling his hands back and standing up. Reaching for the distressed woman, he pulled her into his embrace, his manhood pressing against her belly. "Yet in Christ's blood, we are redeemed," Nathaniel leaned closer, kissing her neck, his teeth scraping her skin even as he slowly pushed Zosia towards the wall. "As long as we repent, God will absolve us all, for His is the power and glory," he pinned her down, pressing his frame against hers once more. "I am no better than you sister. Lust burns in my loins, hunger dwells in my heart," The callous priest seemed to have no qualms about confessing to his sins. "And yet God forgives my sins," his voice rang with confidence and fervent zeal. Nathaniel truly believed what he preached. "Does it burn bad?" Nathaniel slipped his free hand between Zosia's legs, gently prying them apart. "Hush," taking his time, he began to caress her through the cloth of her robes, his fingers seemingly everywhere at once. He knew exactly where and how to touch the distraught nun. "Here?" His other hand found its way to her shoulder as if to make sure she wouldn't try to flee him. His probing fingers pressed against her sex, the priest now slowly, but surely teasing the nun that had just confessed her sins to him. "What do you do when the urge takes you? Tell me," he beckoned her, his dark eyes with hunger. Nathaniel knew he had to have her. Zosia had practically thrown herself into his arms and he was not going to waste the chance to play with her. ​