Sister Barb

As Sister Barbera stared up at the cross on the wall, she had the distinct feeling it stared back at her. Judging her. Of course, that's what the cross was for, right? A reminder of His love and judgment at all times. Most of the time, she took great comfort in her faith, a warmth that spread throughout her body and kept her content and balanced. Today, guilt choked her.

How could it not, knowing He saw into her traitorous heart and mind and saw how ugly she was on the inside. How impure. Of course He loved her and all his children, but maybe Barb didn't deserve that love. Not with the way her thoughts and body betrayed her every night. Maybe the rest of the convent didn't know about her inclinations, but the one person Barb couldn't hide from was herself.

It was only a matter of time before others found out. Already Barb could imagine the whispers, the pointing, the judgment. Kneeling in the Bishop's dark study, she waited for his return. Chances were at least someone knew, and turned her in. Why else would he have summoned her at this hour? Barb bowed her head and prayed ever harder, hoping He would hear and forgive her.

The door creaked open. Barb lifted her head and flinched. The Bishop stood in the doorway, light from the hallway casting his features in shadow. He was a large, heavyset, powerfully built man with a beard and dark, piercing eyes. Even being unable to see those eyes in the gloom, a shudder passed through Barb as he loomed.

"Sister Barbera," he said, voice surprisingly quiet. Like a whisper she couldn't ignore if she tried.

"Your excellency," she said, bowing her head in submission. Even if he didn't dwarf her in size, it was impossible not to feel small and helpless in his presence.

"I've heard the most disturbing rumors about you of late," he said, closing the door behind him. He didn't turn on the light, leaving the room in a pall of darkness, the only light coming in from the moon shining through the window. "You aren't who you appear to be, are you?"

Barb shuddered. "I don't know what you mean, your excellency," she said, grateful her voice didn't crack or waver. She forced herself to relax, to will the tension out of her body. It didn't work.

The Bishop chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Liar."

One word, and it made her flinch as if he'd struck her. Barb lowered her head, trembling.

"You know exactly what I mean, Sister Barbera. Lying is a sin, and lying to me is as bad as lying to God Himself."

"Yes sir," she said, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry sir. I don't...I don't know what to say."

"Say? You aren't here to say anything, Sister. I'm doing the talking here. Your job is to listen and receive judgment. Is that understood?"

Words failed her. Barb swallowed again, but the lump refused to go away. She gave the tiniest of nods.

"I asked you a question," he said, iron entering his soft voice. "Is. That. Understood?"

"Yes sir," she whimpered, unable to stop herself from shaking. "I'm sorry your excellency, I understand."

"Good." He stepped forward slowly, each step a heavy fall on the wood that seemed to thunder to her. Barb made herself small, as if she could hide from him. As if she could hide from God's watchful eyes on earth.

He stopped just inches away from her, uncomfortably close but she didn't dare lean away from him. "On your feet, Sister. Let's have a good look at you."

Barb stood on unsteady legs. She stared straight forward, not sure if she was meant to look directly at him or not. She settled for staring at the cross on the wall, guilt and fear spiraling through her and sending a shiver down her spine.

The Bishop breathed in deeply. Slowly, he circled around her, head tilted to follow and examine her from every angle. Each step was slow, methodical, and heavy. Barb would've had to look up to meet his gaze, if she even dared to. She didn't. Instead, she wrung her hands together, suddenly hating how rough and scratchy her body felt underneath her habit.

"Do you know what the worst sin is, Sister Barbera?" he asked.

"I don't, your excellency," she whispered.

"Pride. Pride is the worst sin, and you reek of it."

It was only through fear paralyzing her that she didn't cringe at his words. Barb remained still, save for one full body shudder. She swallowed hard and dared to ask, "What pride do you mean, your excellency?"

He stopped behind her. One heavy step forward and his belly pressed up against her back. Two large hands came down on her shoulders, grip firm but not crushing. He squeezed. "The pride of thinking you would not be spotted doing what you did. That others wouldn't catch on to why you shirk your chores. We've seen you, Sister Barbera. Your shame is the talk of the entire church."

"Your excellency, I --" Barb gasped as one large hand circled around her throat and squeezed. Just hard enough to silence her, poised to crush her if he wished. She trembled against him, painfully aware of just how easily he could hurt her and how her traitorous body reacted to him.

"DO NOT DENY IT!" He barked in her ear. "Sister Mary saw you touching yourself. She saw you with your habit pulled up and your fingers deep inside of yourself, lost in your lust. Utterly heedless of the world around you, consumed by your own carnal desires. Not just the once, but time and again. Any time you think you can get away with it. Do you deny it, Sister?"

Tears fell from Barb's eyes. She shook her head, a tiny movement he allowed her. She tried to speak but his hand squeezed and he pulled her against him. She felt rather than heard the rumble in his chest.

"So you admit it, then. You're a filthy creature, a slave to your base nature. For this alone we could pity you. But you are supposed to be better than that, Sister. You're supposed to dedicate yourself to Christ. But you haven't been. You've been sharing yourself with the local friars, haven't you?"

Fear gripped her. With her terrible shame named and brought to light, she might as well have been naked. She tried to pull away but the Bishop held on tight. A low, deep chuckle made her blood run cold.

"That's the real issue, Sister Barbera. We all have needs. We all touch ourselves and require forgiveness for our weakness. But not all of us go out and break our vows. Not all of us fornicate. You sister, are a slut."

Barb's eyes closed. Tears poured down her face. This was it. There was no going back. She all but slumped in his grasp, but he held her up with one hand around her throat and another arm snaked around her middle. "I'm sorry..." she managed to whisper.

"Sorry?" The Bishop scoffed. "You can't help what you are. You can't help that you were never good enough for these vows, and you're likely not good enough for salvation. Do you think there's forgiveness for creatures like you? You don't want forgiveness. Do you?"

His left hand moved up her habit, pressing the scratchy cotton into her bare skin. He cupped her breast and squeezed it through her clothing. "You want to be touched. You'd give up salvation for this, wouldn't you Sister Slut?"

Barb cried then, a sob escaping her. She wriggled and writhed but she couldn't get away, and part of her didn't want to. The Bishop was a stern man, and his touch brought out the worst in her. In that dim, lonely office, standing before the cross, all Barb could focus on was his hand roughly kneading her, showing her just how filthy she really was and burning her up inside.

"I'm...I'm sorry your excellency," Barb whimpered. "Please, I won't do it again."

"LIAR!" He snarled. He released her throat and cupped her other breast, keeping her pinned against him as he moved them over to the desk. "Look into His eyes and say you won't do it again, Sister Barbera. Tell Him you're not a needy, filthy slut. Or tell Him the truth."

The nun raised her gaze up to look at the mournful face of the savior, hanging from his cross. Tears streamed down her face, no longer restrained. The Bishop's hands worked her chest over, squeezing and pinching before he captured her nipples between his fingers and thumbs and rolled them around. Her thoughts failed her as her body came alive. Sister Barb opened her mouth to plead for forgiveness, but all that came out was a moan.

The Bishop laughed, a deep, booming, mocking sound. Her face burned with shame and arousal. "Listen to you. A poor, mewling little thing, unable to handle how her body reacts when touched. The rest of us can handle ourselves and not shame ourselves in front of God. You're the only nun who can't hold herself back. The only nun who should be selling herself in the town square!"

She fought against him trying to pull away once more but he pinched her nipples sharply and her legs buckled. Then his hands came off her and she thought she'd be able to stop this, maybe run away and never show her face again. Then his foot kicked hers to the side, spreading her legs. The Bishop shoved her down on the desk, grabbing the top of her whimple and forcing her to look at the cross.

"Tell Him the truth!" he demanded. His grip on her whimple tightened, hair caught up in his ironclad grasp.

"I'm...I'm a slut," she said, sobbing openly.

"Finally," the Bishop growled. "It's a start. Your sins may yet be forgiven. But first..." With his other hand he reached down and pulled the back of her habit up. Pressed up against the desk, there was nothing Barb could do to stop him from revealing her bare ass.

"And what have we here? Where are your undergarments, Sister? You going for easy access for anyone who asks?" His hand dipped between her legs, cupping her shamefully wet cunt. He chuckled darkly. "You like this, don't you? You're a slut through and through. There's only one thing to do with women like you."

"Please your excellency, I'm sorry, I'll be better," Sister Barb said. She closed her eyes, heart hammering in her chest. The room was cool and her body radiated heat. She hated how much she responded to this. She hated herself for not being good enough. She hated how much she loved every second of it.

The Bishop shoved her face against the desk. "It's too late for that now, Sister."

The next thing she heard was the rustling of his belt and pants. Barb's entire body shuddered as she realized what was coming. The Bishop kept her pressed against the desk with his hand against her back, but a second later he grunted and she felt a hot, hard head of a cock press up into her slick lips. He slid against her, grinding his length up against her sex, a little taste of what he had to give her.

"B-b-but what about your own salvation?" Barb stammered. "Don't damn yourself because of me, your excellency!" No one should've been dragged down by her unnatural hungers.

The Bishop chuckled, rocking his body back and forth. The head of his cock brushed up against her most sensitive spot and she squeaked. "I'm already forgiven," he purred, grasping himself by the base of his shaft and positioning himself at her entrance. "No one on earth or in heaven could blame me for succumbing to the temptation of a bride of Satan."

Barb opened her mouth to protest her innocence, but he pushed himself in and all words left her. The Bishop was a large, powerful man and he pushed into her with ease, hard cock stretching her wide and filling her up, stoking that growing heat in her belly. She relished the feeling of being full, that sensation of being almost complete.

"Fuck, you feel so good," the Bishop groaned before he remembered himself. "You feel like a she-devil to me. Hot, wet, and willing. Tell me you want it, slut."

She wanted it. God did she ever want it, but how could she admit it? So Barb said nothing at first, just trembling as his cock throbbed inside her. He stayed perfectly, frustratingly still. She couldn't escape him, but she could move against him and she did just that. Barb thrust backwards against him, a strangled whimper caught in her throat as her body demanded more.

The first time she threw herself backwards, she let out a groan as he sunk in all the way. The Bishop growled and rolled his hips forward, grinding deeper into her. Barb bit her lip, stifling a cry. This was wrong, but she needed more. The Bishop chuckled and pulled back. When Barb tried to thrust backwards again he held her in place.

"Tell me you want it," he demanded. "Tell me and the Lord what a wanton slut you are. Look up into His eyes and say it!" He grasped her by the wimple again and jerked her head up.

The tears slowed to a stop. The cross hung on the wall in eternal judgment. Barb knew then there was no escape, no denying what she was. She closed her eyes and gathered up all her strength. "I'm a slut," she whispered.

The Bishop drew himself back and slammed into her. Her world went white and her entire body twitched. "Again," he demanded.

"I'm a slut," she said, just a little bit louder.

He did it again, harder this time. The pain made it all sweeter. Barb deserved this. "AGAIN!"

"I'm a slut," she cried out. "I'm your slut!"

The bishop growled and released her head, only to press himself down against her. He reached around her middle and bent over. His belly pressed against her back, pinning her to the desk. His beard tickled the back of her neck as he inhaled deeply. Barb shivered violently, abandoning herself to the Bishop.

The next thing she knew, he rolled his hips forward, sliding himself in and out of her. She couldn't move, couldn't push back, couldn't join in. All Barb could do was breathe and try to stifle the moans as he leisurely violated her voracious body. The Bishop didn't bother. Every time he sank himself in home he grunted and his entire body shuddered atop hers. Each thrust pushed her further into the table while jolts of pleasure made her entire world jerk.

Slowly at first, almost lazily, he fucked the poor nun. His hot breath on the back of her neck made her shudder. Barb managed to keep silent until his teeth met the skin where her neck met her shoulder and bit down. She cried out and struggled to fuck him back. That egged him on, and he picked up the pace, his strokes getting longer and slower, each time he hit home making Barb squeak until she couldn't take it any longer and she moaned like a whore.

"You were made for this, Sister," the Bishop growled into her ear. "You should be pitied and celebrated. The world has enough pious nuns. God blessed you when he made you a natural slut!" He went harder until the sounds of wet flesh slapping together made her burn with shame and lust.

"No, please..." she whimpered, no longer fighting him.

"Yes," he growled, pulling out almost all of the way. Only the head of his cock remained inside of her and she felt woefully empty, incomplete without him. "You've said it yourself. Embrace yourself, Sister Barbera. Be my slut. Be His slut. Say it and I'll make things even better."

Barb quivered beneath him. There was no denying her Bishop anything, it was pointless to try. "I'm a slut," she repeated weakly. "Please fuck this slut, your excellency. Please --"

He did as she asked and drove himself into her so hard her words cut off and she gasped for air. One hand wrapped around her middle slid down between her legs, down to her most sensitive spot. With two fingers he found her clit and gathered her wetness over it, rolling his hand around in slow, tight circles. Barb shuddered and clenched around him hard, making him groan again.

"Just like that, Sister," he moaned, pulling back. He started slow again, relentless with his light touch on her clit. The warm, heavy weight of his body on her and the way he filled her was right, more right than it should've been. She should never have denied her nature. This was where she was meant to be.

"More," she demanded, tension rising in her body. Like her entire soul was a cord, tightening the more he overwhelmed her senses. "More please, I beg you, more!"

"As you wish, my love," he said, sending chills up her spine. The Bishop grunted and gave it to her, everything he had. His fingers sped up to match his thrusts. Each feeling of him sinking home blurred into the next as her entire body became a jumble of mixed senses and that delicious tight tension, pulling on her.

"Fuck," Barb grunted, clenching around him violently. "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck --"

Her words cut off into a strangled scream the Bishop covered with his hand. She screamed into that hand repeatedly as her entire world went white and the tension snapped. He buried himself in deep and crushed her on his desk as her body twitched and spasmed and the world ended.

A few seconds, maybe half a minute later, the world came back in. Her husband held very still, throbbing deliciously inside of her. Cautiously, he pulled his hand away from her mouth. "Are you good, Barb?"

She nodded weakly before slumping to the desk. She let out a breathless, relieved laugh. Tears came to her again but she blinked them away. "Yes. What about you, Frank?"

"Could be better," he joked, rolling his hips against hers and groaning. "I need more," he said.

Barb nodded. All it took was a gentle push against him and he retreated, pulling out of her. It left her feeling empty, hollow, and wanting more again but her entire body was spent. She turned around on shaky legs and sat on the desk, looking up at her wonderful husband. So stern and commanding one minute, now nothing but concern and love in his eyes.

"You deserve more," she whispered. She pulled her habit up and showed off her well fucked cunt. Laying back down, she spread her legs. "Take me, Frank. Any way you like."

Frank didn't need to be told twice. He grasped Barb's legs and threw them over his shoulder. Lining himself up again, he waited for her to nod before he pushed in gently. It was different now, sweeter and softer though she knew how badly he wanted to go just go for it. He wouldn't until he knew she was okay. There weren't enough words in the world to describe how much she adored him.

Her husband leaned forward, bending her body in half and pressing her against the desk once more. In this position it was less crushing but more intense. Soon he was buried all the way inside her and his forehead rested against hers. The eye contact made her burn, want to look away, but she couldn't. Instead, Barb kissed him as her husband slowly worked his way in and out of her.

It was different like this, less intense and more satisfying. Her hunger sated, Barb just wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him, gently pressing against him each time he sank all the way in, holding there for a lingering second before he continued. Hard, demanding sex was great, but this was divine. This was like a slice of heaven, just for them. Her and her husband.

Soon Frank's eyes closed and his speed picked up. He grunted with each thrust, breathing harder and harder until his careful control slipped and he abandoned himself in her, thrusting away hard for a minute before he buried himself deep and shuddered. She felt him twitch and throb inside her, and then a flood of warmth. Barb kissed him and whispered her love and affection into his ear.

Panting, Frank didn't pull out so much as pull her off the desk and to the floor with him, slipping out of her somewhere along the way. She collapsed into his lap, holding onto each other for support. He stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. She felt so loved, so safe, so sated.

"Was that good?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "I didn't go too far, did I?"

"No, no," she laughed breathlessly. "That was perfect. You were perfect. That's exactly what I wanted. What I needed. Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you Barb. Even if you are weird, kinky, and like to be fucked dressed as a nun."

"Shut up! You love it you perve."

Frank grinned and ran his thumb across her cheek. "You love it." And she did.