The Convent Ch. 01

Moira Lyttle was a classic Irish lass. Her flame-red hair fell in wavy rings to her waist. Her body was lithe, her skin milky-white and free of blemishes beyond a light dusting of freckles at shoulders, on the tops of her flawless breasts, and across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were green and piercing. Any boy caught in her gaze would immediately be smitten.

Unfortunately, all of these wonderful traits were to be forever hidden away from men. With her father dead at a young age, and her mother unable to pay for any type of college, at the age of 18, Moira found herself being whisked away on a northbound train to a remote convent. She'd been told that the Mother Superior was a distant relation, some kind of umpteenth-removed cousin.

Most girls would have rebelled at this. Run away, gone to the city, and made half a life for themselves working as waitresses and what-have you at dead end jobs. But Moira had been raised in the country, and raised to obedience towards what her betters told her. She was quiet and unobtrusive by nature. When her mother helped pack away her bags, Moira had silently helped, hugged her goodbye, then boarded the train with ticket in hand.

The train ride was uneventful. Moira dozed fitfully, and awoke when she felt the temperature dropping. She put on her gloves and huddled into her coat, staring out the window as the train passed through farmland and empty moors. It got colder and colder, and Moira watched as the window slowly began to frost.

When she arrived at the Lake Seelie station, she was the only one to get off the train. She stood on the platform with her one suitcase, pulling her wool coat tighter around her and watching her breath freeze in the air, she wondered how she was going to get to the convent. As far as she could tell, there was no real town anywhere nearby, just a platform between two hills with a bramble thicket on the other side of the tracks.

As the chill was beginning to set into her bones, she heard a car pulling up. Lifting her suitcase and walking to the end of the platform, she saw an old, much-maligned station wagon. It coughed and sputtered to a stop. The door opened a out stepped the figure of a nun. Moira could smell cigarettes as the nun used the door as a fan, trying to air the smoke out of the car. Moira noted that she wasn't actually wearing a full habit, it was a more casual, "nun in training" affair, though at being a severe, heavy dress with mini-habit to cover her head, it was a far cry from the jeans and sweater that Moira had grown up wearing.

The nun turned, and Moira was surprised. She'd expected an old woman, or at least someone her mothers age, but this was a girl, who couldn't have been more than three years older than Moira at best. She had mocha skin that was too dark to be a tan, not that she could've gotten one in Northern Ireland in the dead of winter, and strands of thick, rich brown hair were slipping out of her habit here and there. When she looked at Moira she smiled instantly, as if they were old friends reuniting instead of new acquaintances.

"Mother Superior doesn't allow smoking," she said. "So I have to sneak in a faggot when I can." She winked at Moira conspiratorially, and Moira felt a warm rush in her stomach at instantly being treated like a bosom buddy.

"You are Moira Lyttle, right?" asked the dark girl.

"Yes," Moira said, sticking out her gloved hand.

"I'm Seetha," replied the other, giving her a firm handshake, "Or Sister Seetha, once we're around the others."

Seetha hefted Moira's bag suddenly and tossed it into the back seat. "Hop in," she said. Moira had barely closed the door before Seetha was rushing off down the road. Sister Seetha had her window open despite the cold, obviously to remove the last vestiges of smoke. She chatted away a mile a minute as they drove. "I don't usually smoke, but in the winter, it just gets so goddamn cold (don't worry, I'll say a few Hail Mary's for that later) and it just warms me right up. Of course if we had a little rum or something at the 'vent, that would do it too, but it's drier than Hell itself in that place, not a drop to be found."

Moira realized that Sister Seetha's immediate openness had bound her. She knew that she would probably have some moral imperative to share this information with the Mother Superior, but Seetha was so trusting of her that Moira instantly knew she would never do it.

Once Seetha rolled her window back up, the car began to warm. Outside they passed through a seemingly endless stretch of frosty green grass. "I know what you're thinking," Seetha was saying. "Isn't there any kind of civilization out here? There's actually a small town about ten miles south of the station, it's where we get supplies."

Seetha talked through the whole trip, and Moira occasionally chimed in, though mostly she just listened. The abbreviated version of Seetha's life seemed to be that she was of mixed Indian and Welsh heritage. Her father had been a wealthy Welsh noble, and her mother an attractive maid of mostly Hindi descent, although how far back it had been since her family had emigrated to the UK, Seetha didn't know. Her mother had died in childbirth, but it seemed that the noble had had a soft spot for his illegitimate child. Unfortunately, when Seetha was nineteen, her father had gotten married, and suddenly the bastard daughter wasn't quite as welcome in the house. Try as she might to fit in, Seetha was a rebellious girl by nature, and it wasn't long before the new woman of the house had had her packed off to the convent.

Coming around a corner, Moira found herself looking out across a long, narrow lake. It was set in a deep valley of grass and rock, and to the north a small river was barely visible feeding the lake. Deep, cold mists rose randomly throughout the valley, almost preventing Moira from seeing the castle. She gasped at the sight of it. It was tall, and clearly ancient. There was a high wall about thirty meters away from the castle itself, and as the car passed through the front gate, Moira noted that it was mostly ruined and torn down in places, in contrast to the castle's spotless facade. It had two high towers rising out of either corner of it's western wall. The southern tower was wide, about ten meters across, while the northern tower, which was easily the highest point on the castle, was merely two across. The main structure of it was long and and broad, and had what appeared to be a new roof (new in the sense that it was probably made only four hundred years ago, as opposed to however old the rest of the castle was) that resembled the points and arches of a major cathedral.

Seetha gave Moira a brief history of the castle. "It was built about six hundred years ago, and became a convent in the 1500's, which is why it's one of the few castles this far north that hasn't been completely destroyed by time. They put the new roof on in the 1600's, sort of their only attempt to make it look more like a house of God than a fortress."

Seetha looped the car around behind the castle, where a simple aluminum shed had been placed in more recent years. As they pulled in, Moira noted that most of the shed's cluttered interior held gardening equipment, with barely enough space to squeeze in the old wagon.

Seetha got out, and Moira wrestled with her bag. She was led in through the back door of the convent. They made their way through a twisting maze of cold stone passages. They'd been recently paneled in wood, trying to increase the insulation, but it was still cold enough inside that Moira could just barely see her breath. Moira spied a modest dining hall through an open door, and about forty women and girls, most in full habits, a few in the "training-nuns" that Seetha wore, preparing for dinner. They went up several flights of ancient, sturdy stairs, and coming down the end of a long hallway, stopped at a door with an ornate cross set into it's center. Seetha drew herself up, checked to make sure she her clothes were not overly rumpled, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," came an old woman's voice. Seetha opened the door and peeked around the corner a bit before opening the door all the way. Moira followed her into an office that had obviously been refurbished recently. I was much warmer here, and Moira suspected that good deal more care had been taken with the insulation here than in the cold, drafty hallways they'd passed through. Behind a large, elaborate desk in an antique leather chair sat the Mother Superior. Moira had been dreading this moment. She feared that she'd be here, spending the rest of her days in the company of some cruel lizard, but one look at the Mother Superior and she knew she'd been wrong. Her eyes, partially obscured by small, thin reading glasses, were kind. Her face was pale and elegantly wrinkled by age, the crinkling at the corners of eyes and mouth evidence of a lifetime of broad smiling. Other observations were useless, since the rest of her was lost inside of her habit.

"You're Moira Lyttle? Bethany's girl?" asked the Mother Superior.

"Yes, Mother Superior," Moira replied, nodding her head.

"You look nothing like your mother," the Mother said, smiling. "But that's not a sin."

Moira smiled shyly. It's true that her mother was a bit of a frog, but she'd never heard anyone else come as close to saying it, let alone a nun.

"Well," said the Mother Superior, standing up. "It's about time for supper. Sister Seetha, take Moira to her quarters and get her changed, then come down to dinner."

Seetha again led Moira through the halls, and Moira began to wonder if she'd ever be able to find her way through them without a guide. They came to a long hall with doors on either side. Most of them looked like they hadn't been opened in years. "All of the other Sisters live on the floor above this, but they were all full there, so I've been living on this floor alone for years now." Seetha opened a door and led Moira into her room. "This is actually my room, but all the others are filled with old junk and clutter, and we have to clear one out for you. In the meantime, you'll be here with me." There were two beds in the little room, and on the bed that Moira reasoned to be hers lay a set of clothes like Seetha's. A long, light blue dress, white, long sleeved blouse, and one of the little black and white hats with the train behind that Moira realized she didn't know the name of.

"Well," said Seetha, "put it on! We don't won't to be late for supper."

Moira glanced to her side, and saw Seetha leaning against the wall behind her, looking out the window. Moira mentally chided herself fro her modesty, this was a nun, after all, and took off her coat. She quickly stepped out of her jeans and sweater, and noticed how suddenly colder the room was.

"What are you wearing," she heard Seetha say. She turned and looked behind her. Seetha was looking directly at her, in particular at the lacy, cream colored satin panty and bra set that Moira wore.

Moira stammered, not sure of what to say. In truth, it was her only pair of underwear that was at least slightly decorative, but they weren't really all that immodest.

"Nuns don't wear things like that," Seetha said, going through the dresser that had been placed next to Moira's bed. "It's plain cotton for you from now on." She pulled out a simple set of grey cotton undies and white bra, and handed them to Moira.

Moira turned around, and before she could do anything else, she felt Seetha's hands on her back, unhooking her bra. Moira froze, but once Seetha had undone the hooks, she backed away, and Moira relaxed, removing the bra.

"Turn around, Moira," Seetha said with a laugh in her voice. "I have to make sure you don't have any piercings or tattoos or anything."

Blushing, Moira turned to face her. The cold air in the room assaulted her pale, pink nipples, turning them into painfully hard pebbles on the tips of her breasts. Seetha leaned over and took a close look at each nipple. "Okay, they're clean."

Blushing even deeper now, Moira slipped on the cotton bra. She pulled her panties down quickly, and reached for the cotton undies. Seetha said nothing this time, but Moira could feel her looking. Moira's mound seemed to warm from Seetha's gaze. Her mons was very pronounced, rising in a gentle curve and pulling in on her slit, the apex of it a deep cleft over her clit, like the round hole where peach stem meets fruit. Her pubes rose in a stripe one inch wide directly above her mons, and went for about three inches before terminating in a clear line. The individual hairs were orangey-red in color, and tended to grow towards the center, giving the appearance of being carefully maintained, although it was perfectly natural. Moira was a sexually naive girl, and had never taken a razor or scissors to her pussy.

When she'd put on the underwear, Seetha helped her into the dress. It was heavy, but surprisingly warm, and Moira was grateful for it. Seetha again led her through corridors towards the dinning hall. "Don't worry," she said. "You'll learn your way around soon enough, it just takes a little time."

They arrived just as everyone else was leaving. The Mother Superior made quick introductions to everyone as they shuffled out, and Moira doubted she'd remember any of the names the next time they met. Seetha and Moira had a supper together, sitting at the end of one of the long tables. Although the room was not that large, it seemed giant with the just the two girls eating and the rest all empty benches and tables. Eating late, they said a quick prayer in the now empty chapel, and then went upstairs to go to bed. They changed into their sleeping clothes, which were simply long, flannel nightgowns to keep the cold out, and then crawled into their individual beds.

Moira curled up under the covers, raising her knees to her chest inside of her nightgown to try and conserve warmth. Fortunately, the blankets were thick, and it wasn't long before she warmed up. She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard a rustling next to her. She opened her eye and turned her head, looking to Seetha's bed.

Seetha's back was turned to Moira, and her covers had fallen down to her waist. Moira couldn't quite see what was going on, but she did see Seetha's arm moving back and forth. She moved without any definitive rhythm, occasionally stopping, then starting again very quickly. She gasped quietly, made a low groaning noise and sped up for about fifteen seconds. Suddenly she rolled over so that she was on her side, facing Moira. The covers bunched up, hiding everything below her navel, but Moira could see that her hand was between her legs. Moira looked up and saw that Seetha was staring at her, her brown eyes shining in the darkness. Neither said anything. Despite the cold, she could see sweat beading Seetha's forehead and cheeks. Moira lost track of time, her eyes locked onto Seetha's. Eventually, Seetha closed her eyes, her breathing slowed, and she slipped off to sleep. Shortly after, Moira did the same.

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They woke the next day, and Seetha made no mention of her activities of the night before. Dressing silently, Moira snuck a quick peak at her temporary roommate, but Seetha's back was turned. Moira felt guilty as a rush of excitement swept through her body. Seetha's bra was plain and white, like Moira's, and she was picking out her underwear. Her bottom was full and luscious. When she bent over to slip a pair of navy blue cotton panties on, her vagina pushed between her full thighs, and Moira turned quickly away.

They went to morning mass, and Moira stumbled through the services. Despite being quite religious, her Moira and her mother had lived far from any church, and only occasionally managed to go. The breakfast afterwards was plain but warm and hearty; eggs, potatoes, some bacon, and the last tomatoes left over from the previous year. Moira conversed quietly with her fellow nuns, noticing that most of them were much older than she. It occurred to Moira that even though she'd never questioned it before, it was quite unusual for a young girl to enter a convent these days.

After breakfast, Moira, Seetha, and a few of the other nuns cleaned up. Seetha seemed to have been appointed as some sort of guide for Moira, and she directed her through the clean up, telling her where the dishes went, how much soap to use, and generally what to do. Moira followed the instructions immediately, easily slipping into her life long role of the obedient girl. The water in the kitchen was cold, and when they were finished, her hands ached numbly. Seetha looked over and saw her reddened fingers working like claws.

"Oh, Sister," she said. She reached out cupped Moira's hands in her warm fingers, then tilted forward and blew hot breath onto them. She rubbed them a bit longer, then slipped her gloves out of her pocket and over Moira's numb hands.

They walked through the corridors, and Seetha began giving her the full tour. On the western side of the convent was a garden. The ground was mostly frozen solid at this point, and the dirt was empty, save a few late green onions and chives here and there. "In the spring, summer, and fall we work here a lot, planting anything we can get to grow," Seetha told her. "Of course, in the winter, there's not much to do with it." They walked around the castle, and Seetha showed her the path down to the lake shore. "We can fish here in the summer, sometimes."

Seetha lead her north along the pebbly beach. She pointed out a looping path that made it's way towards the woods at the north part of the lake. "That path runs through the woods and to the moors beyond. It follows the river for a ways." She turned and looked at Moira with a sideways stare. "There are some great pools in that river, on the rare summer days when it's hot enough, they're perfect for swimming, if the Mother Superior doesn't catch you." Moira decided that Seetha didn't really fear angering the kindly old matron, she simply didn't want to disappoint her. "But it's far too cold now," Seetha continued, looking away up the lake. As if to reinforce that point, a light snow began to fall. They turned back, and by the time they'd passed through the outer wall heading back to the castle, it was falling in thick flakes, and had already started building up on the frozen ground.

Seetha and Moira helped prepare lunch, and then spent the rest of the afternoon touring the inside of the castle. "The north tower is closed off, and the south one is mostly storage. The place is actually quite small once you learn your way around."

Moira looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the main hall. "I doubt that," she said.

There really wasn't much to do there in the winter, save prayer and reading. "I know it seems boring," Seetha told her. "But in the summer there's so much to do outside that it's almost like being at camp."

They went to the room next door to Seetha's. "We'll have you your own room in just a few hours," Seetha said. They opened the door and were confronted with a wall of dust, cobwebs, and furniture. They tried. They began by shoving as much of the large objects and furniture into the other empty rooms, but were hampered by the fact that those rooms were just as full, if not more so, than the room they were attempting to clean. They uncovered layers and strata of junk, some relatively new (a bicycle with a banana seat, a roll of hessian wall weave, a Mickey Mouse piggy bank) and some clearly dating back to the earlier days of the castle (a sword, an unstrung balalaika, a musty but obviously expensive tapestry). They were only about a third of the way finished they heard the dinner bell ringing, it's deep, hollow tones resonating around the cold castle air.