Paul Gable

The torment of sister Mary

CHAPTER ONE

Sister Mary Theresa lay quietly in her small bed, her eyes fixed on the half-naked image of Christ on the cross in front of her. It's a terrible thing for me to feel like this, the young nun thought, closing her eyes and shivering with sexual excitement. She was a nun, a bride of Christ, a woman following the example of the Holy Virgin in renouncing the flesh.

But lately all Sister Mary Theresa could think of was her flesh – her body, and that strange electric shock that made her fuzzy cunt very hot and very, very moist!

"No," she whispered out loud, turning her head away from the crucifix and biting her lower lip. She couldn't give in to those feelings that took her mind off prayer and duty. "No," she repeated. But the feeling stayed. Her cunt was so hot! Every time she moved her plump, firm asscheeks from side to side on the bed she felt her pussy walls rubbing against one another, the slick folds and hollows shuddering with that impact.

Think of God, think of God and find peace, Sister Mary Theresa told herself. It was what Father O'Reilly told her last week when she went to confession and told him what she'd been feeling. Yes, think of God! It was easy enough for him to say. But how could she close her eyes and conjure an image of God up when her clit burned like a hot jewel, taking her breath away just as she was about to pray?

"Oh, God in heaven, help me!" the nun whispered hoarsely. She couldn't touch herself! It was forbidden in all the writings and teachings of the Catholic Church! Even letting herself wallow in this kind of erotic sensation was sinful! She should be on her knees, hands clasped, head bowed, praying to heaven for spiritual guidance and physical relief.

Instead, Sister Mary Theresa rolled her head back and opened her eyes. She saw once again the nearly naked image of Christ sagging on the cross. Against her will the young nun found herself staring at the crotch, wondering about…

"Oh, no!"

What could she be doing? Even the vilest whore in the city wouldn't be contemplating thoughts like those about the Lord God! The confused woman shook the tears from her eyes, getting up from the bed and sliding her long white legs over the cotton top sheet. She had to get out of bed, away from those thoughts haunting her with a horrifying regularity lately.

"Cold shower," she whispered to herself, clinging temporarily to the doorway molding for support. Sister Mary Theresa rested her forehead against the cool wood, smiling weakly as she thought about the water. Her students had told stories about stepping into cold showers to hold down sexual tensions. How she reprimanded them for telling such filthy stories in her class! Even the school wits a house of God! Even the small office where she and three other young Dominican nuns helped certain political candidates was a house where no such filthy talk could be allowed.

And yet the nun found herself walking unsteadily down the long darkened corridor, gasping for breath, realizing the only hope for her sexual arousal was a cold shower.

"Oh!"

That thought stopped the young nun dead in front of the large bathroom. Was that all that awaited her in this life? Sexual arousal constantly torturing her, to be satisfied only by a brisk cold shower in the middle of the night? That thought nearly took her breath away and sent another flow of tears from her eyes. She whimpered, wiping the tears with her knuckles. Why should she be crying? Surely she'd known what kind of life she'd be leading when the Holy Father placed the ring on her finger and made her take the vow of chastity! This would be a life of poverty, abstinence, of complete sexual refusal. In many ways Sister Mary Theresa was far more fortunate than other women who'd also joined convents. At least this order allowed her and her friends to do social and political work.

"Oh, help me, help, me," Sister Mary Theresa said, moving once more into the bathroom. The damp cool air in the area comforted her. Already the hot itchy ache between her legs lessened.

Quickly the young nun slipped off her robe and stepped into the shower, twisting the knob and sending an icy spray crashing into her body.

"Uhhhhh!" The young woman felt her pussy snap shut at the first touch of the cold water. Her flesh quivered under this kind of torture. Sister Mary Theresa wanted to jerk the plastic curtain back and stumble from the tub. The cold was almost painful. But the young nun held on, smiling as she felt her cunt heat return to normal. Once again, she'd saved herself from depravity. Once again she'd managed to fight off the normal sexual drives that drove women between the sheets to seek relief from their husbands or boyfriends.

What a vile, degrading feeling! Sister Mary Theresa thought, reaching down and twisting the hot water spigot. Instantly she felt the spray become more comfortable. Surely there was nothing to worry about now. Turning from side to side in the slippery tub, her feet squeaking against the slippery bottom, the young nun luxuriated in the wet warmth.

Enough! she told herself, shutting off the water, stepping from the tub and toweling herself off. Did anyone hear her staggering down the hall, shutting the door, turning on the shower? No, most were deep in deep, the others at the far end of the church. Turning on the light, Sister Mary Theresa moved to the right and caught her image in the cracked mirror over the row of sinks.

She held the towel to one side of her face, staring at her well-formed body. Unlike many of the other young nuns who were singularly unattractive, Sister Mary Theresa was considered extremely desirable by any standard. Dark-haired, petite yet full-breasted, the girl was hotly pursued by most of the boys in her high school. None of them could understand why she turned down their offers of "hot" dates or even lukewarm ones. Her parents wondered about her sexuality, fearing she might be homosexual.

And when she announced shortly after her graduation that she was going into a convent, her mother and father thought lesbianism a better option for the young woman. Sister Mary Theresa remembered with sadness how her mother cried on the day she left, telling her between sobs what she was throwing away.

But the young woman was firm, casting off all doubt and marching into the Church without a second thought. That had been nearly seven years ago when she was eighteen. Now at twenty-five she was having doubts about her calling, doubts about her ability to continue being a nun.

Sister Mary Theresa studied herself in the mirror more closely, dropping the towel. Yes, her body was attractive. Now she understood why the boys were always following her around the school, why the girls gave her dirty looks as she passed by. Their boyfriends wanted her badly, and desired her all the more when she refused them.

Twisting to the right she looked at her large, pendulous tits. They were firm, round, high-riding with long, red nipples sticking out temptingly. Sister Mary Theresa raised her hand and rubbed her fingers over one of them, surprised at the pleasant ticklish sensation that touch produced in her body.

"Oh!"

Her eyes dropped to her flat belly, her small, boyish hips, and the hint, in that position, of her well-formed ass. Yes, there was no doubt she was an attractive woman, meant for the marriage bed.

But she was married, married to God, to the holy Catholic Church! That thought now suddenly seemed depressing. This union, she believed, was the only kind of union that would satisfy her. And yet, pausing in front of the mirror after her shower, she wondered. Why had she become so aroused lately? Why had all her prayers, all her novenae failed?

This is ridiculous, the young nun said to herself, drying off her face. She had to get back to bed. It must be nearly four in the morning. Shortly her alarm would go off and she'd have to dress. There were matins to get through, some school lesson plans, then the trek to the small office near the church where she and the others were meeting with neighborhood groups to discuss problems of street crime.

But di at same hot itchy ache was beginning all over again! Even now as she stood in front of the mirror, beads of sweat stood like small pearls on her tits, running together in tiny rivers down her cleavage. Her cuntwalls tensed again and a resounding pulsation began deep in her pussy.

"No, no, not again," Sister Mary Theresa whispered, clutching the cold cracked rim of the sink and closing her eyes. Was there nothing she could do, nowhere she could run to get away from this horror? A crisis of faith she could easily cope with. A crisis of the calling she could overcome. Rut this sexual feeling was so strong that she felt she had to do something now to satisfy it, something that was directly in opposition tb the teachings of the Church.

"Ohhhhh, yes, yes," the girl muttered, her head dropping onto her chest. She was rocking her thighs slowly from side to side, feeling the rubbing sensation of her pussy walls touching one another. She giggled hysterically, opening her eyes now and watching more rivers of sweat trickling down and curling into her navel. She was breathing harder, her eyes glazing over while her mouth went slack. Slowly the nun raised one hand and massaged her flat belly, her fingers slowly working lower until she could feel the wiry cunt hairs tickling the flesh just under her nails.

"Mmmmmmm."

All thoughts about how sinful this was evaporated under her rising sexual heat. She had tried! God only knew how hard she'd tried to rid herself of those awful sensations. But nothing worked. Prayers, cold showers, nothing!

"Yes, yes," Sister Mary Theresa whispered, her fingers clutching the porcelain desperately. How weak her knees were getting! She was feeling the terrible power of her cunt as it throbbed with growing excitement. Never before had the girl been this powerfully aroused. It was as if all frustration, all the denial of the past twenty years broke free this early morning in the convent bathroom.

Her feet slid across the floor several inches while her clit hardened and tightened. Oh, God, my tits are so swollen! she thought to herself as she spread back her puffy cuntlips. The nun smiled, feeling the soft pussy hairs fringing the outer edges of her cunt. Her cunt mound moved, actually moved like a tiny frightened animal under her light touch. What a strange, wonderful thing her pussy was! Never had she thought much about a woman's nether parts except in a strictly dark light. That was the root of all sin, of all temptation. It was through a woman's cunt and resulting sexuality that the path to hell lay.

But no, nothing this good, this wonderful could possibly be the work of Satan. After all, God created the pussy and cock as well as the mind and spirit. Flow could a work of the Lord be sinful?

Sister Mary Theresa shook those thoughts from her head. These were ideas to be thought of in the calm of her room later. Right now she felt her fingertips wet with cunt juice that seeped freely from her slit now. Curling her toes, the young woman gave herself completely to the powerful feeling pulsing through her cunt. Her ass jiggled as the young nun danced in front of the mirror. She pulled her cuntlips farther back, exposing the tiny pulsing clit.

"Ohhhhh!" she whispered body. Through the mist created on the glass by her breath, she saw her tits rise and fall quickly. The nipples were harder now, the aureoles turning a dark red. The sight of her aroused flesh excited the young nun further. And when she touched her clit, Sister Mary Theresa thought she'd faint. Lust churned through her belly and seemed to make every nerve ending in her body stand up and quiver.

Sister Mary Theresa wanted to touch herself all over now. Both hands now, however, were full of soft, hairy, tightly packed cunt muscle. The young nun leaned over the small sink, her tits flattening on the wet mirror. She pressed her small shoulders against the smooth glass then rubbed them up and down so her hard-tipped tits rubbed cm the mirror. At the same time she flailed her clit with her thumbs. Her fingers pressed deeper into her pussy.

What am I doing? she thought in a flash of guilt. Pulling her fingers from her pussy with a sucking sound, the nun tried to move away from the mirror and sink. Could she stop herself now? For a moment she paused, realizing finally nothing could stop her. Even if the sisters from below were to come swarming into the bathroom and discover her, Sister Mary Theresa couldn't stop. Things had gone too far now.

"Ummmm."

The young nun let her head roll back. The cords stood out on her neck while she gasped in lungfuls of air. She kept on pinching and plucking her clit while di rusting her tits against the minor. Her ass tightened and separated as she moved her thighs from side to side, sawing her cunt while she twisted her swollen clit between her thumb and forefinger. The tiny gland was filled with blood, being stretched like a small thumb.

"No, no, no!"

Sister Mary Theresa stuck her fingers in deeper, feeling the velvety walls of her pussy rubbing against her knuckles now. She was gasping, sobbing, sawing and twisting her pussy. Bright lights popped in front of her eyes while a strange drumming sound beat in her ears. The world seemed to slip away from her somehow. All she was conscious of was the terrible whirling ball of sexual hunger deep in her pussy.

"Oh, oh, ohhhhh!"

Sister Mary Theresa stood on her toes. The power surging through her body seemed to lift her from the floor and send her crashing into the ceiling. Now she could understand why men pursued women and why women did that terrible, awful thing with men. When she first learned about sex, she had thought it was terrible, dirty and vile. How could two people take off their clothes, climb all over one another and endure that kind of humiliation while one part of a body stuck into another?

But now Sister Mary Theresa would have given anything to feel a man pawing her, thrusting her down onto a bed and shoving his cock into her. She had never seen a man's cock. Of course there had been pictures, terrible pictures thrust in front of her by her so-called friends in school. Before tearing her eyes away from them, she had seen those pricks, some of them so long the girl thought they belonged on horses rather than on men. Were those the things men stuck into women to make babies? She felt her stomach turn over. No, no man was going to do that to her! And yet now…

"Oh, ohh!"

What was that sensation some of the boys and girls mentioned? Come! That was it, the slang for orgasm. How dirty it had sounded. And yet now how it made her smile faintly. Come! Her hands moved up now to her tits, the fingers tickling her stiff nipples. She pinched them, rolling them like tiny peas between her fingers. How it made her pussy clench and actually grow hotter and heavier! The pulses in her cunt became harder. She rocked her hips faster and faster, loving the subtle friction of her inner cunt surfaces rubbing against her hard-tipped clit.

Was this masturbating, something expressly forbidden in the Church? How could she possibly confess something that dirty to the good Father? No, no, this was different. She wasn't finger-fucking herself or anything like that.

Sister Mary Theresa's head drooped. Her eyes went out of focus. She had dropped both hands back down and was now holding onto the sink for dear life. Her feet were wide apart on the cold tile floor. But the friction wasn't good that way. She brought her legs together and let out a telltale moan of delight.

It was good, too good. It was wrong to have it so good! At times she felt she should stop, crying now with tears streaming down her checks as waves of guilt assailed her.

But still she kept on, dipping and wiggling her ass, the weight of her plump asscheeks adding to the sensations tearing at her cunt. She moved so quickly, more sweat broke out on her forehead. A streak of drool oozed from one corner of her mouth. Come! The word pounded in her head. The soft, squishing sounds of her cuntflesh rubbing against itself seemed to fill the large bathroom.

"Come," the woman moaned softly as thrilling spasms shot through her cunt. The young nun felt she was teetering on the bunk of awful sexual madness. Then suddenly a wild explosion tore through her pussy, making the woman sink to the bathroom floor. Her fingers reached in, plowing deeper into the mushy heat of her cunt.

Please, God, it's good, too good! she thought to herself as the fire stormed through her pussy and up to her tits.

When she opened her eyes, the nun found herself on the floor, her head resting against the side of the bathtub. Her robe hung limply on the hook. Prayer, hours of prayer would be the only thing to wash away the terrible sin she carried.

With a guilty moan Sister Mary Theresa rose unsteadily to her feet, slipping the coarse garment over her shoulders. She walked slowly back to her room, feeling the weight of her particular cross on her shoulders. No more, no more, she repeated as she sank to her knees in front of her bed, bowed her head and hid her fade in her trembling hands.

CHAPTER TWO

"Sister, we need more stamps for the campaign mail."

Sister Mary Theresa looked up from a stack of papers lying neatly in front of her. It had been a long day. Mother Superior was somewhat upset because of the long hours the four nuns had been putting in at this campaign office. But Church policy hadn't expressly forbidden political activity as long as it wasn't disruptive to either the community or the faith. This office was perfect, Sister Mary Theresa had thought. Although sponsored by a senator running for re-election shortly, the drive here was for a cleaning up of air pollution there in Los Angeles.

"I don't know if we have enough in the budget," she said, looking sadly at a slightly young nun sitting behind a typewriter. They had done so well up to this point, running a successful campaign with the minimum of staff and equipment. But Sister Mary Theresa knew they couldn't keep on this way without more money. And support didn't come often enough in the form of money.

"What a shame, Sister Mary Theresa!" the younger nun said, pushing away from the typewriter and sighing. "We've come such a long way, and to think we're being stopped by lack of stamps."

"Sister Georgiana and Sister Clarissa are out now trying to raise funds at UCLA. Sister Georgiana goes there for class, and she thought… well, maybe she was too hopeful," Sister Mary Theresa said, correcting herself, feeling depression weigh her down. The campaign had been going so well, well enough to take her mind off that terrible evening when she'd done that awful thing to her body. Still she hadn't been able to bring herself to confess her guilt. She was living in sin, multiplying her sin by taking communion with the other sisters while she had this blot on her soul.

"I hope something comes in. We have to get the public more interested in this. It's becoming hard to breathe here."

Sister Mary Dominic was right. Their convent was just off Adams Boulevard, near the center of downtown Los Angeles. Too often the young nuns peered from their windows and saw the sky gradually turn a brownish yellow as the morning slipped by. A sagging economy and demand for cheaper fuel had turned the government's head away from supervising pollutant offenders.

"We can pray, Sister," she said, going back to addressing the envelopes. The two women busied themselves for the next hour, not hearing the door to the office open slowly.

Sitting behind her desk, Sister Mary Theresa had been thinking once again about that night when she stuck her fingers into her swampy pussy and toyed with herself. Oh, how could she be thinking of something that foul, that filthy right here in the campaign office? Guilty inhibition should be guiding her now. But once again her sexuality was getting the better of her.

The woman's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the slamming of the front door. Sister Mary Theresa jerked her head up. Men, four of them, wearing green military style clothing, strode into the office. Two stood by the door holding something. Only after several seconds ticked by did the young nun realize those objects were semiautomatic rifles!

"Oh, God, Sister Mary Theresa!" the young nun screamed, holding her fingers to her mouth as two of the men strode across the tiny office toward her.

"Fuckin' nuns. Told you," the tall dark-haired commando muttered, sweeping the top of her desk clean with his free hand. A service revolver was gripped tightly in the other hand.

"What are you doing here?" Sister Mary Theresa finally managed to get out. She felt terror shoot through her veins as the ruggedly handsome ringleader moved around her desk.

"Tell your friend not to open her mouth and she ain't gonna get hurt," the first man said.

Sister Mary Theresa motioned to the terrified nun to keep quiet while she tried to collect her thoughts. They looked like marines standing there. Two remained at the door, holding their rifles tightly to their bodies after locking the door and puffing the blinds shut both over the windows and front door. Were they thieves, radicals? If she hadn't known better, the nun would have thought they'd come straight from a war movie.

"I think we're okay for now. Told you it'd be a cinch," the first commando said, relaxing a little. He shovcd his revolver in his field trousers and smiled down at Sister Mary Theresa. The frightened nun felt a strange flash of something other than fear take hold of her body. His black eyes flickered with excitement and fury. The man's animalistic power both terrified and attracted the confused woman. No, no, I must remain in control, she told herself, holding onto the front edge of the desk for support. She had to have something tangible pressing against her. This situation was dreamlike in its ferocious intensity. The woman needed to take hold of something to remind herself of reality.

"Who are you?" she stammered out.

"My name's Tolbo… Jack Tolbo. But name's ain't important now," he said, sneering at her.

"We gonna wait 'til it gets dark?" one of the men at the door said.

Dark? Sister Mary Theresa thought of the two other nuns. Soon they'd be coming through that door, victims of these men. She started to explain about the other two when Jack slapped her across the face.

The suddenness of the blow paralyzed the young nun. She fell to one side, her hands grappling desperately for support. Sister Mary Dominic screamed, then pressed her fingers tightly to her mouth as the other nun slipped to the floor.

"I ain't no Catholic, honey, so don't think you're gonna hide behind some fancy hocus pocus. Rick, anybody doin' anything out there?"

One of the men at the window shook his head from side to side, his eyes still peering through the slats of the closed blinds.

"Who are you?" Sister Mary Theresa repeated, holding her head with one hand. It throbbed from the force of the blow. She could still feel his fingers against her check as she climbed back onto the chair and steadied herself.

"Told you, name's Jack. The group?" he continued, smiling cruelly down at the terrified nun. Jack's eyes narrowed as he inhaled sharply, his chest puffing out. "The Democratic Liberation Front."

Sister Mary Theresa racked her mind, trying to think where she'd heard that name before. Of all the off-beat terrorist groups crawling over this planet that one didn't strike a familiar note.

Her thoughts were interrupted by sharp laughter. It was the second gunman at the window, his face temporarily wrinkled up in laughter.

"Okay," Jack said, jerking his head toward the window. The gunman stopped laughing and went back to surveillance.

"Hey, two more of 'em coming down the street," Rick said.

"Christ, like roaches," Jack muttered. "Unlock the door."