Feature Writer: Kateri/Mary Anne (M.A. Mohanraj)
Feature Title: The Temptation
Uploaded: October 4, 1996
Author’s Notes: Ah, I am tempted to fill this space with disclaimers. Long paragraphs of them. Instead, I will briefly ask you to keep in mind that a) this was written on assignment — 9000 words of erotic horror; b) this was written under time pressure; and c) despite the blasphemy, etc. in this piece, no disrespect was meant to the Catholic church. I do think that it is possible to read this as a redemptive piece, in fact…if you work at it. If you are deeply Catholic, you may find this story very disturbing, and I suggest you think carefully before reading it. “Truth decays into beauty, while beauty soon becomes merely charm. Charm ends up as strangeness, and even that doesn’t last, but up and down are forever.” – The Laws of Physics (Erotica – Torn Shapes of Desire –


The Temptation

San Francisco, 1958

The Temptation – Chapter 1

It was dark in the small cell, dark and silent. Deep in the heart of the building, this windowless room was well-muffled from the city street noises. Outside in the dry heat of a San Francisco summer night, voices were raised in anger and laughter. An occasional slap and thud marked a body hitting a floor, and if you listened carefully, you could hear the hookers negotiating with their johns. The convent wasn’t in the best part of town, but the young woman in the bed heard nothing of those sounds, lost in her own thoughts. She shifted restlessly on the bed, the coarse fabric of her nightgown rubbing against tender skin. Soon the silence was broken by a low moan, then another, and her hands clenched convulsively, compulsively at her sides, as if she were willing them not to move elsewhere. But she willed nothing consciously, for Sister Maria Estrella Gonzalez was dreaming, and despite their erotic subject, they were not pleasant dreams.

She floats deep beneath the sea, naked and shivering, while tentacles of seaweed brush against her hips and breasts. Small fishes with feathered fins surround her, jewels of color pressing against each unprotected inch of skin. Slow flute song echoes through the sea, sad and lonely, aching with longing, as if a mermaid wept for her lost love. A sudden rush of warm water surges between her thighs and she convulses, her mouth twisting silently in a whispered, repeated, “no…”.

The scene shifts, and Sister Maria stands on a ledge within a fiery volcano, watching the burning fluids rise, lapping against the rock walls, bubbling and hissing. The heat surrounds her, enveloping every inch of her body, reaching deep within. She knows that it will not be long before the lava rises high enough to engulf her completely, to drag her down into the flames.

Shift again, and she is blinded, while soft lips press against hers, and smooth hands slide between her thighs, both silently urging her to open. Maria moans, but clenches her mouth tightly shut. Some part of her remembers her vow of chastity, even in dream, and she resists. In that solitary room in the world, she bites through her lip, drawing blood, but does not wake. The two hands tormenting her are joined by other hands, four, six, eight, until she cannot count how many hands caress her back, or squeeze her buttocks, or massage her thighs, or gently pinch her nipples. Tongues and teeth proliferate as well, at her ear, her neck, her lips, her throat, always persuading, never violent, yet insistent. Her whispered rejections become more audible, until she is pleading with the invisible strangers, but they take no notice, continuing the assault on her treacherously weakening body.

When Sister Maria finally wakes, it is to the ringing of the convent bells summoning her to prayers, and she feels as if she has not slept at all.

The Temptation – Chapter Two

“Bless me, Father Jose, for I have sinned.”

She has chosen the old-style confessional, with its heavy screen between priest and penitent. She is not brave enough to face him with these sins.

“What are your sins, my child?”

“I have had…carnal thoughts.”

“Describe them to me, in detail please.”

The priest’s voice is firm, commanding. Two years in the convent have conditioned her to obey. Sister Maria slowly describes her dreams.

“In the dreams, I am very aware of my body. Of my lips and neck and breasts…”

“Go on, Sister. I must know exactly what you have done before I can counsel you.”

Maria takes a deep breath before continuing, “…of my thighs and buttocks…and of my vagina and clitoris. It throbs, Father, so badly that when I wake I want desperately to touch it, to relieve the aching…”

“You know you mustn’t, Sister. Remember your vow. What else?”

“Sometimes I dream of my past, of the men who used my body, of the pleasant ones, the ones that felt good. Sometimes I remember the gentle way they’d slide into me, or the way they’d want to kiss me. I hated to say no, but you couldn’t get to liking them too much…”

“What did you do in the dreams, Sister?”

“I-I touched them, Father. When they tried to kiss me, I kissed them instead — kissed their penises.” She blushes as the explicit words fall from her lips, passing through the grate and into the unseen priest’s ears. She pauses for a moment, hoping for respite, but there is none. “I’d suck on their scrotums and slide my tongue up and down their cocks, circling the head. If we were in a motel instead of an alley, sometimes we’d do a sixty-nine, and their tongues would be inside my vagina, and their mouth would be sucking on my clit, and it would be so good, so sweet…”

“…or sometimes I ‘d remember when the other girls and I would get together after a long night, just cuddling at first, but then Stasha’s little breasts would be peeking out of that almost nothing she wore, so it seemed natural to lean over and give them a kiss, and maybe Yvonne’s hand was resting on my thigh and she’d slide it up and under my skirt — we hardly ever wore panties — and just slide it in and out of my clit, so nice and wet…”

“…It wouldn’t be long before we were all naked on my carpet, sliding along and kissing every spot that a man had touched earlier, erasing all the bad parts and making the good parts even better.”

“Sister! Am I to understand that you engaged in homosexual activity with these prostitutes? You know that is strictly proscribed…”

Sister Maria flushed.

“I know what the Church teaches, but I can’t feel it was wrong. We were so close. I miss that sometimes, Father. I miss the touching and caresses and the kisses and the warm, sweet woman scent and salty taste — I miss the men too, with their hairy chests and thick penises — oh, Father. Even when I’m awake, I think about it all the time. It never used to be this bad! I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hold to my vows!”

The priest spoke sternly.

“It is not for you to question the wisdom of the Church, my child. The holy laws are handed down by God and interpreted by wise men in Rome — this is too difficult a task for a woman’s weak mind. Your mind is already contaminated with these sinfully lecherous thoughts. These thoughts are not conducive to your vow of chastity, Sister. You should meditate on them, consider every aspect of these dreams and try to discover from what corner of your soul they are emerging. Perhaps the convent is not the place for you…especially considering your past, and the sinful uses to which you put your body, the Lord’s temple.”

Sister Maria spoke, her words spilling out, “Oh, no father! This is my home, this is where I must be. I can’t go back to my old life. Please, any penance…”

“Well, perhaps we should try something slightly old-fashioned. Sister, I want you to wear a hair shirt beneath your habit, and nothing else. That will make you conscious of the sins to which your body can lead you. Along with your meditations, you must say the rosary beneath your breath as you work, and you must bathe five times daily, to cleanse yourself of these impure thoughts.”

“Yes, Father.”

Sister Maria spoke eagerly, glad to have something active that she could do to help ward off the sensual thoughts and dreams. She sometimes missed the old days, but she had made her choice, and pledged herself to Christ. Father Jose was right — she needed to give her conscience over to the keeping of the priests. That was their job, after all. Her place was simply to obey.

“Now say your Act of Contrition.”

Sister Maria obediently recited the words, taking comfort in their familiarity, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen.”

“Go in peace, my child.”

Sister Maria rose, and left the church, murmuring the first prayer of the rosary beneath her breath.

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses…”

The Temptation – Chapter Three

Father Jose sighed wearily. The grey-habited woman kneeling between his knees raised her head, licking her damp lips. “A problem, Father?”

“She is such an innocent. Such boring little dreams and fantasies — hardly sins at all. I grow weary of the little weaknesses of the good. Such sweetness and light. She only dreams of kindness and gentleness and pleasure. Where are the abused children, where is the pain, where is the true anguish?!”

“Have patience, Father. Mother thinks she has promise, though more for suffering pain than inflicting it. Once she truly abandons her God, she’ll be clay in the devil’s hands. The incubus has only just started to work on her, you know. By the time it finishes with her, she’ll be fucking dogs and babies and screaming with pleasure at the touch of the whip. Even better — she’ll feel guilty about every moment.” The woman smiled wickedly.

“I suppose that’s true. Ah well, at least I have you to distract me…”

Taking her cue, the woman bent again to her task, moving the priest’s robe further up and out of the way so she could better slide her mouth down his thick, somewhat hairy shaft. At first she simply circled the head with her tongue, gently licking the reddish-purple skin. Then she began to suck the head, softly, then harder. Then the woman licked long lines down the shaft, up and down, over and over. Soon her entire mouth engulfed the priest’s cock, sliding fast and hard down to the base, sucking it down her throat.

Father Jose moaned quietly, as she wrapped long fingers around the base, and cupped his balls with her other hand. His hands rested on her head, and his hips rocked with her movements, as she slid up and down, faster and faster. As he was just about to come, she sank her sharp nails into the tender juncture between hip and crotch, drawing blood. Then with one final stroke, she pulled away as his semen spurted onto her grey habit.

The Temptation – Chapter Four

Maria sat naked on the tile floor of the shower, her knees pulled up to her chest. A wave of sexual energy had just, suddenly passed through her as she stepped into the shower, coming out of nowhere and leaving her legs trembling and her cunt moist. She had sank to the floor under a stream of warm water, and now sat there hugging her knees, trying to regain some control of her mind and body. These thoughts had become more frequent, rather than less, in the weeks since Father Jose had told her to start wearing the hair shirt and bathing more frequently. She had felt so very conscious of her body, and somehow, no matter how hard she tried, she had been unable to simple turn her thoughts to God.

She had tried praying to Mary, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you! Blessed are you among all women, and blessed is the fruit of your loins,” but somehow at the word ‘loins’, she always felt a flush of heat move through her own loins. And as the lust grew stronger, it seemed less and less likely that the virtuous Virgin Mary would understand her dilemma. Even Jesus had only been tempted for forty days and nights — it felt as if she’d been undergoing this torment for months, at least. So now she simply stared at the walls of the shower and tried to empty her mind of thought.

The walls were built of white stucco. The Sisters had kept it bright with hours of scrubbing, but the convent was old, and the walls (thin to begin with) had been worn down over the years. The wall at which Maria gazed was pocked with tiny holes. On impulse, she moved over to the wall and put her eye to one of the holes. She had a clear view of the empty shower stall through the wall. She was about to pull away and return to her own shower, when a blonde cunt came into her view. After a shocked moment, Maria realized that the hole was at exactly the same level as the anonymous nun’s cunt in the next shower.

Sister Maria wasn’t sure who was there — most of the sisters had dark hair, but there were three blondes in the convent. It could be Sister Clara or Sister Beatriz. Sister Joan was also blonde but fairly heavy, and the cunt in the next shower was attached to rather shapely legs. Sister Maria found that by shifting around to other nearby holes, she could see much of the nun’s body, though nothing above her neck. For some odd reason, the holes didn’t extend that high.

The nun’s body was small and trim, with small, firm breasts and tiny nipples. She was perhaps a little too thin, which led Maria to think that it might be Sister Beatriz, who was given to fasts and purgings. The nun, whoever it was, reached out and turned on the water. A muffled shriek escaped her as the water came on — it was always cold at first, taking time to warm up. The sound was just a little too short and sharp for Maria to identify the unknown woman.

Soon the anonymous blonde was entirely wet, and had begun to soap herself with the rather harsh brown soap the nuns made themselves. Her hands moved over her body, starting at the neck and working their way slowly down, over collarbone and shoulder blade, down the tops of the arms to her thin hands and back up underneath her arms, pausing to soap her armpits. Then her hands moved to her breasts, and Maria’s breath quickened. The nun was very thorough with her breasts, rubbing them firmly with the harsh soap, lingering perhaps a little long on the tiny pink nipples before moving the soap down her rib cage and across her stomach. Maria’s hands moved unconsciously to her own breasts, under the pounding water.

She then reached behind her and soaped what she could reach of her back. She had turned, and Maria could see a spot in the upper center of her back that had escaped the nun’s reach. Maria couldn’t help wishing she could step into the adjoining stall — just for a moment, to help.

The nun went on, her hands sliding down her lower back to her slightly rounded buttocks, rubbing and kneading. She did her thighs and then leaned over to do her calves, and it was then that Maria’s guess was confirmed — it was indeed Sister Beatriz. Sister Maria grew more aroused; Beatriz was lovely, in a rather stark, anorexic way, and Maria had occasionally woken from dreams of her. One of Sister Maria’s hands had wandered down to her cunt, and a finger was sliding in and out, almost absentmindedly. Then two fingers…

Beatriz carefully soaped her calves and feet, then moved the soap back up her legs, pausing to soap her pubic hair. Then she stepped back under the full force of the falling water and all the soap was sluiced away. She turned off the water, quickly, and stepped out of the shower, out of Maria’s view. Sister Maria suddenly realized what she was doing — she had watched one of the Sisters showering, and masturbated while she was doing so! Sister Maria stifled a sob, realizing that she had now broken her vow in full daylight — she no longer had the feeble excuse of being at the mercy of her dreams. She sprang to her feet and began scrubbing furiously at her own body, trying to rub away the clammy sensation that had crept across her skin.

The Temptation – Chapter FIVE

The classroom wavered for a moment in Sister Maria’s view, as another surge of lust hit her. She bit her lip, pushing it back down as she struggled to concentrate. The students were filing in, fifteen and sixteen year old Catholic school girls in their blue plaid uniforms, with crisp white shirts. Quite a few of them were wearing those skirts very short, and they had unbuttoned their shirts far enough down that the swell of their breasts was clearly visible. Sister Maria remembered that she had done the same in her own Catholic school girl days, and wondered how many of these sweet girls would end up hustling on the street like she had.

How many of them would spend their nights in tight red miniskirts and black lace tank tops, trying not to shiver in the cold, trying to be seductive and sexy enough to convince a stranger he wanted a $5 blow job? She wondered how many would be bright enough to insist on condoms as they were being fucked doggy style in a deserted stretch of alley, or slammed up against a wall. It had been a miserable time in her life, but somehow, watching these fresh-faced girls and imagining them in her place, she suddenly, desperately wanted to be back there again. It had been dangerous, sometimes painful, but she had at least known she was alive. Not like the peace of the convent with its grey walls and grey habits and quiet voices. The nights back then had been filled with grunts of pleasure, not quiet whispered prayers.

Maria struggled to wrench her mind back to class. They were all sitting demurely in their seats now, waiting patiently for her to start, looking a little confused as she continued to sit there.

“Open your books to page 37. We’re doing love poetry today.” The girls giggled, as she had known they would. “Catharine, why don’t you read today?”

Sister Maria didn’t know why she had picked Catharine. She read well, very dramatically, but there was something a little too insolent, too sexual about that particular sixteen-year-old. Maria usually avoided calling on her, but today, she just wanted to hear that sultry voice. She knew Catharine would read the poems better than any of the other girls — and Maria didn’t trust herself to read them without becoming lost in the sensual words.

“What do you want me to read, Sister? Some Marvell? ‘Now let us sport us while we may, / And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour / Than languish in his slow-chapped power….'”

“No, dear. A later poet, I think. Perhaps a woman…”

“Emily Dickinson, then? ‘Wild Nights-Wild Nights! / Were I with thee / Wild Nights should be / Our luxury!'”

Catharine gazed steadily at Sister Maria as she read, and Maria felt her hold on the class slipping away.

“Or maybe someone even more recent? ‘Coming together / it is easier to work / after our bodies / meet / paper and pen / neither care nor profit / whether we write or not / but as your body moves / under my hands / charged and waiting / we cut the leash / you create me against your thighs / hilly with images / moving through our word countries my body / writes into your flesh…'”

“Enough of that, Catharine. Poetry is a little dizzying, don’t you think? Why don’t we read some prose instead?”

Sister Maria wiped the sweat away from her brow, wondering why the room felt so warm. Some nice safe prose — that would be better.

“Of course, Sister. Love been reading Joyce…”

Catharine reached into her bag and picked up a thick book.

She skipped to the last pages, “and O that awful deep down torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the fig trees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the rose gardens and the Jessamine and geraniums and cacti and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes.”

Her voice was rising and falling now with the words, passion echoing in the small room.

“And how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down Jo me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.'”

She stopped and closed the book, smiling.

Maria shook herself from the trance she had fallen into, uncomfortably aware of the dampness between her thighs and the hardness of her nipples against the coarseness of the thin hair shirt.

“Yes, dear. Very good. I’m glad you enjoyed your Joyce. You can stop now.”

Maria felt very dizzy, and had to brace herself against the desk.

“Girls, I’m not feeling very well. I’m going to end class a little early today. You can go ahead to lunch. Read the next chapter for tomorrow’s class.”

“Yes, Sister Maria,” they chorused together.

As the room filled with the rustle of books being closed and the chatter of teen voices, Maria closed her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them again, the room had emptied — or almost emptied. Sitting in her front row seat was Catharine still, gazing steadily at her.

“Yes, Catharine? Can I help you with something?”

“Sister Maria, I need your advice.” Catharine crossed her legs, and Maria couldn’t help noticing the way the short skirt slid even higher up her legs, almost revealing her panties.

“What can I help you with, dear?”

“I think I want to be a nun.” Catharine leaned forward in her desk, and her blouse gaped open. Maria had a clear view of a black lace bra, and two firm young breasts. She took a deep breath before answering.

“Well, it’s a difficult choice to make, especially for someone so young. There’s a lot you have to give up, though of course, the rewards are also great.”

Catharine was absent-mindedly rubbing the skin at her throat, making tiny circles with two fingers. The girl shifted a little in her seat, so that for a moment her skirt rode even higher. Maria stifled a gasp when she realized Catharine wasn’t wearing any panties.

“But Sister, what would I have to give up? It sounds so wonderful, spending my days in the convent praising God, surrounded by the other Sisters and you…”

Catharine shifted again, uncrossing her legs and separating them slightly. Maria was sure the innocent young girl had no idea that she was now giving the nun a very clear view of her cunt, framed by fiery red pubic hair.

“Well, probably the hardest vow for a young girl is the vow of chastity. To give up all possibility of…carnal pleasures, without ever having tasted them. You’d never know the sweetness of your first kiss, of someone’s hands on your body…” Catharine’s hand had slipped lower, unconsciously, and her fingers were now tracing light circles over her raised nipple. Maria took a deep breath and continued, “…of a night in a lover’s arms, of your first real man…”

“…or woman, Sister?” Catharine stood now, and walked over to Sister Maria’s chair, standing so close that Maria could smell the girl’s arousal. “But Sister, what makes you think I haven’t had any of that? Maybe I know exactly what I’d be giving up…and maybe I wouldn’t really have to give it all up, hmmm?”

She was leaning so close now that if Maria just leaned forward a little, she could take the young girl’s nipple in her mouth, could wrap her hands around that tight little ass and drag her closer, could slide her legs around one of Catharine’s, pressing her clit hard against that firm young flesh…

Maria gasped and jumped back, knocking over her chair in her haste, shocked that she’d been thinking of taking advantage of this sweet young girl, one of her own students, under her protection.

Her face was flaming red was shame as she stammered, “I-I-I don’t think you understand the seriousness of a commitment to God, Catharine. I think you should think about this decision some more…” She hastily gathered her papers and stumbled out of the room, trying not to listen as Catharine called after her, “Maybe we could discuss it again next week, Sister?”

The Temptation – Chapter SIX

The new dream always started on that night so long ago, that night in the street.

Maria stood in a shadowed doorway, dressed in torn cut-offs and a thin red tank top. She didn’t like to stand out on the street corners — that was a good way to get snagged by the cops. She preferred to watch the johns as they walked by, choosing the ones that looked not too scuzzy and not too mean. Broadway usually had pretty good pickings, especially on a hot summer night like this one. She had done two blow jobs so far tonight, and had only been out a half hour. Looked like it was going to be a good night.

Sweat trickled down her neck and into the valley between her breasts. She had wiped it away at first, but the guys seemed to like it. A couple of her regulars liked to fuck her between her large breasts, sliding in the sweat, spurting up onto her face. She didn’t mind, as long as they didn’t expect her to lick it all off. She was always careful not to swallow any jism. Stasha said that you couldn’t get any diseases that way, but Rosie and Yvonne thought you could, and Maria wasn’t going to take chances with. She had gotten where she was by playing it safe, and planned to continue that way.

She suddenly snapped out of her daydream, as a hot number walked by. Not too muscle-bound, swimmer’s build, dark hair and eyes, just the kind she liked. White t-shirt and blue jeans — an all-American boy. Very nice. “Hey, mister! Looking for some company?”

He paused and turned, stepping towards her so he could see her better. Maria stepped out of the doorway and took a deep breath, so he could properly appreciate her large breasts. “Nice,” he said. “How much?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Hmmm….I’m not sure. If I wanted to leave it open, how much for that?”

“Well, I don’t usually work that way…”

“Look, I got lucky at a friend’s poker game tonight — I’d like to celebrate. Hey, I can afford it.”

He pulled out a black leather wallet and opened it for her. It was stuffed with $10’s and $20’s. Maria took a deep breath. There was more than enough cash in there that she wouldn’t have to work for a couple of months. Maybe she could even pay off the last of her debts to that junky loan shark on Valencia, and go back to college and get her English degree.

“Okay, sure.”

“Whatever I like?” He sounded almost pathetically eager, and Maria grinned.

“Yup, whatever you like. You wanna go to a motel or…”

Before she could finish the sentence he was on her, hustling her into an alley nearby, then slamming her against the brick wall of a building. He unzipped the jeans and had his cock out faster than she could believe. ‘Okay,’ she thought, ‘he’s in a hurry, I can handle that. Get him off quick, and then we can slow down…’ but when she reached down to jerk him off, he growled and flung her around. He yanked her shorts down and tore off her shirt.

“Hey! You’re gonna have to pay for that…” she started to protest, and he slammed a fist into her cheek.

“Shut up, bitch. This is what I like and I’m paying for whatever I like tonight.”

Maria was dizzy with the pain from the punch, and so caught off-guard that she didn’t protest when he tore off her panties and thrust his cock into her dry pussy. She didn’t dare to mention a condom, not with his fingers digging like claws into her shoulders.

It wasn’t long, maybe ten or twenty thrusts before he came, and Maria started to straighten, thinking maybe it was time to renegotiate. But he was still hard inside her, and instead of pulling out, he just shoved her onto hands and knees in the muck of the alley to fuck her again >from behind, harder and longer this time. By the time he finished, Maria was painfully sore, and she was pretty sure there was broken glass cutting into her knees. Her breasts were hanging down into the slime and she couldn’t help thinking how much she was going to like a shower when this was over.

Then he pulled out…and slammed right back in, into her ass. Maria let out a scream then, as he tore a path into her, and then she knew she was bleeding, and knew he didn’t care and at this point all she wanted was to get home alive. He threw a punch into her side, knocking the air out of her. She endured then, for an endless time, until he finally came again. He pulled out, and shoved her down so she was lying flat on the asphalt. Then he rolled her over and punched her other cheek, so that both lay open and bleeding. He paused for a moment, as if to admire what he’d done — taken her sweet golden body and turned it into a filthy bleeding mass. Then he pulled out a knife, and Maria was truly terrified.

It must have shown in her eyes, because he laughed.

“Just something to remember me by, honey.”

Then he grabbed her wrist and cut a small ‘x’ into the flesh of her arm — deep enough that it would scar, but not deep enough to ensure she bled to death. She screamed again at the cutting, but it was as if she were alone in the night — nobody came running, and even if someone might have, she had the peculiar feeling that there was some sort of barrier separating the alley from the rest of the world — she couldn’t hear any street noises. Maybe that was the shock, though. She was getting very cold, despite the August heat. She curled into a little shivering ball.

He stood up then, and opened his wallet. Little fluttering green bills came down to rest on her body. “Don’t even think about complaining, little girl. Most whores deal with this sort of thing every week.” Then he turned and walked away, and Maria couldn’t even tell him that she knew that, or ask how he knew that she hadn’t had to deal with it.

That night was the first bad one — there were a lot of them after that. It wasn’t much longer before she took all her money and went to the convent, appearing on their steps dirty and bleeding in the middle of the night, begging them to take her in. They took away her money and cleaned her up, put her in a nice grey habit and took her vows. She hadn’t ever regretted it until the sexual dreams had started. They had started out simple, but they were getting worse and worse. She was dreaming of things she couldn’t believe existed — things that she knew were coming out of the depths of her own soul. She had never thought her soul could be so filthy.

One started now, shifting right from a reenactment of that horrible night. Now he was fucking her, that same man with the dark eyes and hair, but this time she was enjoying it, she was begging him for more, she moaned with pleasure when he hit her and cut her. If she blinked, he turned into her father, or his sister’s 10-yr-old son. And Maria knew that this wasn’t real, this wasn’t her, but the dream seemed so real. Every night the dream was a little more brutal — and she enjoyed it a little more. Finally, one night, Sister Maria woke to find she had somehow managed to not just finger herself in her sleep — but to actually shove her entire fist inside herself. She woke orgasm-ing wildly, and with her body scraped raw by the hair shirt she wore even in bed. She knew that her penance wasn’t working. It was time to go back to confession.


The Temptation – Chapter SEVEN

Sister Maria’s teeth chattered slightly as she paused before the door of the Mother Superior’s chambers. She had always been terrified of the Mother Superior, ever since she first entered the convent. That tall, thin figure in severe black had frowned at the make-up she had forgotten to wash off her face, and Maria had been ready to run right back out the door. She had managed to avoid the Mother Superior almost entirely since then, but now she had no choice — she had to face her. Her confessor had told her to.

Maria had stumbled into the confessional almost in tears the previous day, after a night of the tormenting dreams. She had sobbed out her confession to the priest, holding back nothing — her lustful thoughts throughout the day, her sinful desire for the redhead Catharine, the way she woke up to find her fingers damp and wrinkled between her thighs…when she had finished, the priest had sounded truly shocked as he ordered her to report to the Mother Superior for chastisement.

So Maria gathered up her courage and knocked on the door. It swung open, and she stepped into the austere room. It was almost bare, with a few simple pieces of furniture and a large dark crucifix on the wall. The Mother stood facing the window, idly swinging a ruler in her hand. She did not turn as Maria stepped in, only asking, “Sister Maria?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Shut the door.”

Maria carefully shut the door, then waited for instructions. The priest had said that he would communicate to the Mother the full details of her transgression, so Maria had only to wait for her punishment. An endless tie passed before the Mother spoke, and Maria shivered in the draft from the window.

“Remove your habit, daughter.”

The Mother’s voice was cold, remote. Maria hesitated a moment, then obeyed. Obedience was one of the highest rules of the order — if the Mother commanded, Sister Maria had no choice but to obey. She slowly raised the grey habit over her head and removed it. She then folded it neatly and laid it on a table nearby.

“The hair shirt as well. And your shoes.”

Maria removed the shirt and shoes as well, leaving her naked and trembling.

“Do you see the bars on the wall? Take hold of them. Firmly.”

Maria looked around the room, confused for a moment. Then she realized that to either side of the arms of the cross were large iron bars. To take hold of them, she’d have to practically embrace the figure of Christ on the crucifix, pressing her body flat against Him. She couldn’t believe for a moment that this was what the Mother had meant — but then she realized that this merely signified the depth of her crime — that she would have to face her Savior during every moment of punishment. She slowly stepped forward and took hold of the bars, pressing her slim body against the cross.

Behind her, Sister Maria could hear the almost silent footsteps of the Mother crossing the room. Sooner than she’d expected, the ruler fell, crack! against her rounded buttocks. She jumped, involuntarily, her hips pressing against those of Christ. Maria had resolved to bear her punishment bravely, but tears welled up in her eyes at the humiliation. Then the Mother began to speak, and Sister Maria’s shame mounted.

“Slut. Whore. Shameless bitch. No control. A slave to your arousal. A slave to your weak body. We should never have taken you in. We should have left you on the street, peddling your battered, soiled body to the scum of the earth. Dirty. Disgusting. You bring shame on this convent. You bring shame on the Church. Wicked. Sinner. You must atone. You must atone!”

With each word, each phrase, the ruler fell, burning red lines of fire across Maria’s back and buttocks and thighs. The tears were falling freely down Maria’s face at this time, sobs racking her body and she almost welcomed the pain — it was better than the shame of the Mother’s angry words. After an endless time of pain the ruler broke — the Mother simply went to her desk and removed another, larger ruler — this one of metal. The blows mounted in speed and intensity, and Maria was further shamed to realize that she was wet and dripping, as her hips ground into those of the Lord and her breasts rubbed against His chest.

“Do you repent your sins? Are you sorry? Do you admit that you are a discarded nothing, a sorry excuse for a nun, not worthy to kiss the Lord’s feet, much less be a bride of Christ? Do you repent? Do you repent?!” Harder and harder, faster and faster, until Maria was screaming, “yes, yes, anything, Mother, please, yes, I’m sorry, I’m a worthless slut, please, forgive me, please oh please…”

Suddenly the Mother stopped and dropped the bloody ruler onto her desk.

“Come to me, my child.”

Maria let go of the metal bars, pulled herself away from the crucifix and hurled herself at the Mother’s feet, whimpering in pain and remorse. The Mother gently stroked her hair, and lifted her up.

“There, there, child. You are forgiven. There, there.”

Maria buried her head in the Mother’s breast, trembling in her embrace. She could smell the Mother’s faint scent, and feel her softness against her battered body. Unconsciously, Maria shifted a little in the Mother’s arms, pressing her hips against the Mother.

“What?! Not cured yet??!”

The Mother thrust Maria away, throwing her to the floor.

“Accursed slut! A solitary cell is the only place for you — you will either emerge cured, or you will stay there the rest of your life!”

Maria remained, a sobbing heap on the floor, until two Sisters came to lead her away to her confinement.


The Temptation – Chapter EIGHT

They fed her little, and gave her only occasional water to drink. The bloody wounds on Maria’s body healed eventually, but she was never fed enough to grow strong. She spent her days on her knees in prayer, and her nights in fevered dreams. She grew dizzy, and dazed, and when finally one of her dreams appeared in the daylight, she did not even realize how impossible it was.

He stood at the foot of her sleeping mat where she lay, a handsome man in a three-piece suit, not so different from some of her customers in the early days, when she had been earning a month’s rent in a single night. Dark hair slicked back, dark eyes, and only the slightly pointed ears and teeth indicated that he might not be entirely human. Plus, of course, the huge black bat’s wings that protruded from his back when Maria’s eyes blurred. Except for the wings, he might have been a twin to the man from the rape dreams.

“So, my darling. Had enough?” His voice was low and slightly mocking.

“What?” Sister Maria didn’t understand what he was saying, what he was asking.

He gestured, and a sharp pain tweaked her right nipple, as if he’d reached out and pinched it hard. Yet his fingers had never come near it. “Ready to give in? I must say, you’ve been a particularly stubborn one. Most sinners, especially those with such delightfully carnal natures, break long before this.”

“Please, I don’t understand.” She felt sick and dizzy, and clutched her habit close to her body, trying to shield herself from the creature’s lascivious gaze.

He sighed, and took a chair, straddling it. His clothing suddenly disappeared, and Maria’s gaze went directly to the long, thick red cock that jutted proudly upward. After the nights of torment she had endured, her cunt was throbbing and burning at the simple sight of the cock she longed for so eagerly.

“This is it, honey. This is the moment of choice. You can either hold fast to that dull little god of yours, and spend the rest of your days in suffering and torment, always itching and burning and aching for an orgasm that will never ever come…”

His eyes swept over her, and a wave of lust surged through Maria, so strong that for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

“Or, join us. Pleasure unimaginable, we promise. You get to come again and again and again, my darling. All it takes is a simple yes — we don’t require your blood anymore — we don’t even make you sign. Just say yes, my darling…c’mon, you can do it.”

Maria staggered to her feet, trying to ignore the trembling of her thighs and the way her feet seemed to want to run towards that swollen cock. “Those are my choices? Torture for the rest of my life if I choose God, or utter ecstasy if I choose Satan?”

The incubus grinned.

“Those are always the choices, darling. You’re such a luscious little piece that you get them offered explicitly, that’s all. The game’s a little clearer — aren’t you the lucky one? I must say, I’ve really enjoyed your body all these nights — I kind of hope you turn us down. Then I get to enjoy it for the rest of your life — and I have a certain curiosity about just how much pain you can really take, I admit.”

Maria gasped. “Bastard!”

“That too, of course . Now, honey, what’s your answer?”


Maria had hesitated a moment. For a long time, sex had been the only good thing in her life. It would be so easy to give in to what he wanted…but then the thought of her vows to the Church and convent had given her a reason to hold on.

“Never. I’ll never join you. Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

She recited the words almost as a charm, and he winced as she said them. A brief flare of triumph ran through her — but she was so tired and aroused already, though, and the room was spinning.

“Hmmm….okay. I’ll ask you again tomorrow. And the day after that, and after that, and after that. In the meantime, I have something to show you…”

With that the room dissolved, and a moment later they stood outside the doors to the main chapel. Maria had always loved that room, with its beautiful stained glass windows that had miraculously survived the 1907 quake, its broad red wood altar, its golden Christ with His sad smile.

“Why did you bring me here?” Maria asked, utterly confused. “This is only going to confirm my faith in God.”

“Uh huh.” He said, one eyebrow arching. “Sure, honey. Why don’t you step inside?” With that, the incubus swept her a mocking bow and gestured to the door. Maria took a deep breath, wondering what the evil creature intended, then pushed the door open and stepped inside, with the incubus following.


The Temptation – Chapter NINE

At first, the scene appeared completely normal. Father Jose was conducting Mass, and the pews were filled with nuns and priests. Then she noticed that some of the children from the high schools were there — both the girls and the boys, which was odd, since this was the private chapel, rather than the main cathedral nearby. The sonorous Latin filled the small room, moving from the second reading to the passage from the Gospel. Maria didn’t understand Latin, but something didn’t sound quite right about the words Father Jose was saying. Then he began reading the Gospel, and Maria was appalled. The words he was reading sounded at first like the words of Christ — but they were horribly twisted, perverted.

The priest began.

“This is a reading from the Gospel of Matthew, 18:21.” The congregation responded, “Praise to thee, Lord Jesus Christ.” Then Father Jose continued, “Then came Peter to him, and said, “Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Till seven times?”

‘Jesus saith unto him, “I say thou shalt not forgive him but shalt curse him, not until seven times: but until seventy-times seven. Thou shalt curse they brother, then thou shalt go out and sin upon the earth. Thou shalt sin in the fields and in the towns, on the flat lands and on the mountaintops. Thee shalt sin with thy wife and thy daughter and thy brother’s wife; thou shalt sin with thy son and thy brother and thy brother’s son, thou shalt sin unto seven and seven times seven generations, and thou shalt give praise to Satan at each darkness.”‘

” The priest closed the Bible from which he’d been reading, and Maria noticed now that the Bible’s cover blazed a fiery red. “Now go, my children, and sin as our Lord bade you.”

The schoolchildren immediately stripped off their clothes and the priests and nuns fell upon them in the pews and aisles, fucking madly. Some pulled out whips and canes from beneath their robes and began to use them upon the children or each other. The priest pulled an altar boy to him, and bent him over the altar, raising their robes so he could slam his cock into the boy’s ass. The boy shrieked, though Maria could not say whether it was in pleasure or pain — indeed, she could barely hear it, as the chapel was filled with the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, moans of ecstasy and wails of anguish, and leather slapping flesh. As Maria watched, appalled, the Mother Superior rode into the room from a side door mounted on a donkey, cradling a baby in her arms. She rode to the center and placed the baby on the altar, near the fucking priest and altar boy. Then she dismounted and let the donkey mount her in the space before the altar.

Maria’s eyes lifted to the golden crucifix above the altar, wanting to apologize to her sad Jesus for this desecration of his temple. But the figure on the crucifix was not sad — it was smiling, no, grinning wildly, and its body writhed upon the cross, with an immense erection pointed straight at Maria.

A voice issued from it, saying, “Come, come to me. Come to me, my child. Come take me, come fuck me, come ride me, my child, my darling…”

Maria clapped her hands over her ears, but it did no good — she could still hear the chanting, calling, sweet voice… and now the priest had left the altar boy lying on the floor of the sanctuary, and had lifted the baby high, a glittering knife in his hands…

“Oh, please!” Sister Maria turned, begging the incubus. “Please, not the baby. How can God allow this? It can’t be — it simply can’t!!” There was anger in her voice, and exhaustion, and despair.

The incubus grinned and raised his left arm. All other motion in the room suddenly froze, leaving the two of them facing each other.

“Ah, despair. So sweet on the tongue… So, you reject this cruel God of yours, finally. Will you give yourself to me, utterly and completely? I will even spare the baby…”

Maria agonized a long moment, then nodded, suddenly exhausted. It all seemed so futile, such a terrible waste to continue to struggle against fate.

She said simply, “I am yours.” The incubus smiled.

“Ah, good.”

He reached out and picked her up in his arms. Maria rested her head against his chest, glad to finally rest for a moment. He carried her up the center aisle, like a bride. When they reached the altar, he took the baby from the priest’s arms and placed it aside, where it promptly began to bawl. The incubus’s eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment, almost as if with tears, though that was impossible. “You’ve been a lovely challenge, my dear. A shame to part so soon, but we do need a sacrifice tonight.” He lay her down on the altar, stripped the grey robe >from her shoulders, so that she remained clad only in a thin shift of virginal white. Then he turned away, and started to walk down the aisle.

Maria lifted her head, dragged from her despair and lethargy by the odd note, almost of pain in the creature’s voice.


It turned, “Yes?”

“Maybe I was wrong to despair, to lose faith. I-I’m not sure. Please…what if I want to go back to God?”

The incubus paused a moment before answering.

“My dear. You should know your own Church’s teachings. Your God will forgive anyone who truly repents her sins. If you search your heart and find true faith and contrition, then God will take you back, and the angels will sing hosannas of thanks.”

An expression which might have been the beginnings of hope lifted Maria’s features — then the creature snapped his fingers, the room swept into motion, and the knife in Father Jose’s hands plunged down into Maria’s heart, pinning her to the altar. The incubus sighed. “Yes, true repentance would have saved you. Pity you didn’t have the chance.” Then he turned again, and walked out of the chapel, leaving the orgy behind


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