Atonement

"It'll be a short wait. Make yourself comfortable." The receptionist flashed a placid smile before returning to her screen, leaving Sister Mary standing uncomfortably in the lobby. Nuns rarely found themselves in Canary Wharf foyers. They were even more rarely personally invited to meet the CEO of a business they were actively pursuing through the courts. Mary had hotly debated coming at every stage of dressing that morning: she knew every cent in the building was deeply contaminated, and as likely to corrode the mission as it was to help anyone.

As she squeezed into the habit the morning of, the realisation that she'd be attending to receive the check had finally struck. She tied long blonde tresses into a tight ponytail and wistfully wished for the days when wimples could have been considered the norm. The shapeless habit helped, but she'd seen enough to know that London's financiers required no assistance when it came to mentally undress any woman in line of sight. Still. Knowing she was diluting their bonuses as they lost their wits to the thought of her made the repulsion die down a little.

They hadn't disappointed so far. She'd caught more than one creep in a too-tight suit averting his glance a little too quickly, and some who hadn't even had the decency to pretend they weren't leering. She scuffed her Converse against the marble floor aimlessly. The receptionist scratched a final note and smiled the same docile smile at Mary. "Go in now. They'll be with you shortly."

Mary found herself entering a long, dark room, and was immediately struck by the curiously settled atmosphere. It felt heavy and muffled, and she realised that the entirety of the world outside had dimmed, as though a heavy curtain had fallen over it. The room was thick with the low scent of jasmine and empty, save for an empty table and a single large leather armchair in the centre of the room. The door closed behind her with a solemn click in a way that hinted that it wouldn't open again, and Mary wasn't surprised when some insistent tugging on the cool metal handle yielded nothing. They were hazing the nun. Bemused at this new stage of corporate malfeasance, she meandered towards the centre of the room, trailing her fingertips along the stiff leather headrest as she came to it.

The green, smooth leather was warm to the touch, and a light of unknown origin illuminated it. She sat down into it and almost fell flat when she stretched backward. The chair was tilted at an angle that made it deceptively steep to lean into. Mary sat down on the edge of the seat cautiously, leaning forward, and felt apprehension in the pit of her stomach. She didn't enjoy the thought that they could keep her waiting as long as they wanted. The Reverend Mother had been wrong to send her here.

She moved to rise from the chair. Immediately, a speaker in the corner clicked into life. "We'll be with you in a few minutes Sister. Could we make you more comfortable?"

"Just by getting this over and done with." she murmured, and then covered her mouth, realising she'd spoken aloud.

"Of course." came the ambivalent and equal reply.

A distinct whirring started somewhere. It wasn't just jasmine in the air now. There was something under the florals that she could almost taste, but lingered slightly outside her frame of reference. As moments passed, and nothing appeared to occupy her focus, a wave of tiredness hit. She found her eyes closing as her head filled with the heady scent, rolling around inside her. It felt like she was buried in fresh laundry, and tentatively, she decided she liked it. The tube here had been crammed with people, and sensory relief from unwashed bodies was all the respite she could hope for. She'd ask where they got it when they came in.

Settling back in the plush armchair, she found her hands slowly running down the arms of the chair, before resetting. Nerves. Being asked to attend, specifically her. Being convinced someone else should go in her place. Being slowly talked out of it by people who knew better. Vanity was a venial sin, forgivable, but one that would bring the sisterhood into disrepute if she allowed herself to be drawn in by it. Others had before she knew- brought their cause low with frivolous comments and self-indulgent flattery. All they had in this case was message discipline. All she could do was nod politely, accept the money, and tell them that it would feed the poor, would clean the water, but wouldn't change a thing in upcoming lawsuits. The thought crossed her mind that she'd almost backed out of coming, and she offered up a silent invocation of gratitude for the Reverend Mother who'd taken all her fears in and offered her kind compassion and encouragement in return. We should always be willing to meet sinners, she'd been told. Otherwise, how could they ever begin to repent?

She was sprawled in the chair now, head lolling on her shoulders when a ringing sound permeated the air around her. It'd been quite some time waiting, but she couldn't find the deep core of frustration within herself to mind. Everything felt so light and liquid. There were so few spaces to herself in the convent. Getting to linger in this pleasant scented room, with a warm, soft leather chair was indulgence but it wasn't as though she had much other choice.

A slow, high-pitched note rang across the room and she felt her body shiver in response. She tingled at the pitch of it. Glissandro? The term wasn't uncommon in church music, but she couldn't quite place it as the walls seemed to ring in response. The single note turned into a winding series of chimes. The warm, heady scent continued to fill her thoughts with every breath she took, and she found that she was getting lost counting the moments between the wind chimes sounding.

She could have sworn that, while it seemed regular, it would deviate by half a second sometimes, as though it were a note being played at intervals instead of a looping track. Every time she thought she'd found a repeating pattern, it changed again- she could have sworn that sometimes, the pitch inflected half an octave, or that it waited half a moment past the point she would have sworn it was due. Every time it rang, she felt her body thrill in response- a tingling that had started deep in her chest and spread to her rapidly stiffening nipples, erect under her habit and threatening to become visible if she unfolded her arms. She was becoming keenly aware of a pulse across her entire body, slow and undulating, spreading and waning. Every time it threatened to get away from her and drive her excitement beyond the point of comfort, it eased itself into a low, throbbing presence in her body that was deceptively hard to grip.

Lust had been a constant companion during her studies but had long since been tamed and rendered mild. The memory of university came to her, desperately clinging to a pillow to avoid the sinful urge to slip her hand between her legs and... She shook her head awake. She found herself lying back in the chair, slumped down, her legs spreading apart, and gathered her sense of self. Mary crossed her legs. Focus and devotion had been her constant companion for a decade now. She tried not to think about how crossing her legs had given the slow, rhythmic pulse drumming to life inside her a new focal point as the fabric between her legs clung to her body.

Time passed. She wasn't sure how much anymore. She had long ago closed her eyes, and pulled her legs up onto the chair, thighs open and apart. She buried her face in her habit, hoping the rough material would keep the thickening, cloying scent out long enough that she could focus on her surroundings and find a way back to herself, but every time she moved, it found a new way in, creeping in through shifts in the fabric to fill her nose, to the point she had to wipe some drool from her mouth, becoming keenly aware that hunger was getting the better of her. She didn't want it to stop. Not really. Not if it meant her thoughts came back and she had to lower her legs and sit politely again. Click. The same intercom as before. "Are you feeling alright Sister? Won't be much longer now."

"Feel...feeling a little... A little woozy," she murmured, half to herself. "Could you turn the aircon on in here?" She was certain she could hear a faint buzzing pitch up, as though the machinery was turning on, but the scent hadn't dissipated. If anything, she could have sworn it was more overwhelming than ever. Her eyes lolled in her head as she gave up trying to hold her head up and let it fall into her hands, blissfully transfixed by the scent, the sounds, and the undercurrent of warmth now running through the chair. She could feel the warmth running through the leather, and it seemed to penetrate deep into her, as she sank further back into the chair, arching her back into the seat, letting it recline further back.

Wisps of hair had come out of her ponytail, a bead of sweat slowly rolling down her cheek, as she screwed up her face with the concentration it took to avoid checking how her body was responding to these new sensations. Maintaining a semblance of togetherness was about all she could handle; Grabbing the cheque and getting out was the last remnant of normalcy left in her head, and it was getting harder to grip.

The beat had changed. The sounds came more frequently now, and seemed lower in tone, though the room continued to reverberate. Mary was overwhelmed by the presence in the room, the way sound seemed to fill every iota of space whenever it sounded. Burying her head in her hands did nothing. It just let the heady aroma find new paths to her, and the extent to which she was salivating was growing concerning. Mary felt a twinge of fear in the pit of her stomach, and the sudden overwhelming sense of something new alighting in her nervous system. Her fingers slipped under the pulled-up habit and she felt breath escape from her body in pure relief at what she found between her spread thighs. Her cunt was soaking wet.

Shocked at the sudden emergence of lust in contrast with moments of distraction she'd spent years praying through, she watched as though from far away as her fingertips came away from spread lips, beads of wetness following. She could tell without looking that her thighs were glistening with sweat and wetness, but she couldn't stop her hips undulating, grinding to the recurring note sounding, pulsing insider her body, electrifying her nerves. She bit her lip at the unfamiliar rush of pleasure that came with the sensation of muscles clenching and unwinding between her thighs, and then withdrew shamefacedly, the black material of her habit falling over carelessly pulled to the side panties.

Mary flushed as a low, almost imperceptible rumble started from within the chair. To anyone watching, it would appear as though nothing had changed, but she could feel the cool, soft leather opening beneath her, the probing pulse alternating between the sensitive, spreading lips between her thighs, and an asshole that increasingly clenched in desperation at the thought of being slowly opened and filled. Desperate thoughts filled her head, and she could feel the slowly increasing need to experience this room to its fullest extent, the pulsing filling her head. In horror, she had a sudden vision of herself at the end of even ten more minutes in this room. A horny, brainless animal, thrusting into herself with wild abandon. An involuntary shiver of pleasure ran through her.

Almost on cue, a hard, rounded weight pressed into her ass through the habit, and imperceptibly looking down, she caught the glint of metal, realising the chair was offering her a plug. She bit her lip, fully aware that lowering herself onto it was a mistake she wouldn't come back from. There was surely a point of sensation that would lend her clarity, she reasoned. Enough feeling to reassert herself, and remain the person she had always been. Just clenching the head between her cheeks would be enough to sharpen her mind and return her to who she'd always been. She moved in her chair, restless, enough to hide the aim of the adjustment, and sighed as the grip she'd been hoping for gave her some more purchase in reality. Just what she'd been hop-

As her body went for another involuntary clench around the plug, she was jolted back to her lack of control as she slid deeper onto it than she'd intended. With silent horror, she realised that the plug was lubricating itself. Every inch of weight she'd placed on it lowered her irrevocably further, the plug slowly extending further, until slow and heavy, it had filled her, pinning her in place. The slow, rhythmic pulses of the chair were now coming from deep inside her, and her body was too heavy to move, too slow to escape. Every time she went to adjust, the plug's steady thudding sped up, rendering her legs weaker and weaker. It slowed down as she relented, her body failing as her muscles weakened, and she realised she wasn't able to bring herself to grip anything but the relentless plug inside her, and the arms of the chair. She watched as the muscles holding them closed tightly tired, until, helpless to stop herself, her thighs fell open, and she could feel herself soak the chair that was ruining every vow of chastity she'd ever taken.

"N.. No.. No.." she murmured, fingernails digging into her thighs, desperately trying to stop the inevitable as her grip grew more and more strained, her swollen clit stimulated by even the fabric of drenched cotton, clinging to her.

"That's right, Mary." The same placid voice murmured, low and delicious, through the intercom. "It can't hurt. Just reach between your legs. God wants you to." Her body shivered at the thought of being good and she felt an audible whine escape her open mouth. A thrill of pleasure ran across her spine, and her legs opened further, thighs sticky as she settled fully into the chair, letting the constant reverberations tantalise her lips through the ruined fabric.

"Please. Please don't make me. Please. I'm good, I swear. I'm good. I swear I'm good. Just don't make me." The voice interrupted, soothing and forceful in equal measure.

"Just do what comes naturally Mary. Do what feels right. Do what your body is telling you to do."

Mary rocked back and forth, squirming as it eroded her sense of restraint inch by inch. Shame flushed her cheeks as the rocking became more and more obvious, less and less a sop to stop herself from screaming in frustration. Her hands tentatively reached beneath the fabric, delving underneath the soaking wet fabric as need escaped through her, breath turning into panicked gasps as her fingers slipped inside, spreading her hungry lips apart, the stroking enough to immediately have her soaking the chair, as she screamed in frustrated release, trapped in an orgasm that seemed to never end.

Stuck in pure animal need, Mary raised and lowered herself onto the plug again and again, never close to escaping its punishing control, never trying to. She squirted once, soaking her shining thighs, and then again, and all it did to her lust was make it easier and easier to fuck herself, the pleasure taking control of her body. Her hand came unbidden to her breast, and she moaned again, loudly, as waves of heat circled through her, taming her, disciplining her- whenever she tried to slow down, or exhaustion took over, the relentless pressure of the plug expanded, thrumming inside her, setting the pleasure receptors off all over again, orgasm after relentless orgasm unlocking her body forcibly.

She lay sprawled and defeated as the toy slowed down, legs akimbo, the leather of the chair shining from where she'd soaked herself again and again. Mentally broken, the only thought that animated her exhausted frame was the idea of the plug starting up again, and when she realised that wasn't going to happen, she let her body collapse, muscles too tired to fight anymore. The door opened, and a smartly dressed man crossed the floor to stand over her, smiling in a way that seemed even in her addled state, to be too wide for her own good. "I hope you don't mind us keeping you waiting, Sister?" a honey voice layered with sincere concern. It came to her with dawning horror that he could see her hastily torn aside underwear, had probably been watching her fuck herself silly from the other room. Her hands went to her hem, drenched from where she'd squirted again and again, before she felt the toy resurging inside her, starting slow, and began to murmur in fear and giddy terror at the thought of what it was going to do to her in front of him.

A deep breath of panic only gave her a lungful of that warm, precious scent, and now Mary found she was clenching expectantly again, purring in fear and trepidation. "Let's not do anything hasty." she heard from somewhere above her. She screwed up her eyes, trying not to listen as the tell-tale signs of orgasm started to stir within her, the stimulation taking her higher and higher. He sat opposite, with a studied and deliberate patience on a stool he'd carried in with him. Mary, unbearably aware of his gentle curiosity, felt her chest rising and falling in panicked urgency, then desperate need, and finally guttural pleasure as the ecstasy raced through her, stripping away everything but the need for more. He watched her shake, the last vestiges of resistance being stripped away as she stopped trying to hide anything and openly thrust down into the chair, clearly savouring the pleasure that ran through her as her aroused clit felt the deep rumble of the chair run through it.

She felt a shadow fall over her, and looked up, just as he leaned down, and fingertips finding her inner thighs, parted her legs further than she thought possible. "No, no" she whispered, her animal body ignoring her, rhythmically pressing against the chair, again and again, wringing more joy than she thought possible from her, until she felt sensory overload take her. She was about to completely give in and throw herself on the mercy of the chair when she felt strong fingertips take her chin in hand and lift it delicately. Her eyes flickered open, and met a deep hazel stare that she couldn't pull herself away from.

"Mary", his voice slipped inside her head, equal parts solemnity and light, his eyes never leaving hers, "I can erase all of this. I can fix all of it. You can go right back to where you started. You can walk out of here, with a healthy check, as well as my admiration, right back to your convent. Or.." and she felt panic rise in her gut, knowing what was about to be offered, "You accept a new life, as my personal toy, and I ensure that you spend every single day of your life in ecstasy."

Time seemed to slow, and Mary became incredibly clear- this wasn't what her faith asked of her, it wasn't what she asked of herself, and she'd never been this susceptible in her life. She had to get out of there. She'd be out of here, back in the convent, where none of this could ever reawaken the demon of lust buried inside her. She had to-

As she went to pull herself up on the chair by her elbows, she ended up pushing herself deeper onto the toy. She felt a new round of lubricant fill her, the plug's machinery starting its inevitable climb towards the peak that had shattered her attention span and capacity to resist and realised that she had never had a hope of turning down this feeling.

Her eyes closed, her hands scrabbled for the back of the man's head, and she hoped he'd take her bestial grunts as an emphatic yes.