The Nun from the Mansion
by Brother Biggun
If only the windows of that mansion could tell tales of what they had seen! Such stories would cause maidens to blush, women to go weak at the knees, mature ladies to have a fit of the vapours; lads would grin cheekily, gentlemen would tremble to their core, grown men would shiver their timbers. Reader, I have heard these extraordinary tales from a wild and wicked woman I encountered there who compelled me to capture her experiences and tell her saucy stories. She was known as Sister Olivia Orgasma, or simply known as 'O'. Read on, if you dare...
Note
: here we use the terms
nun/monk, convent/monastery, sister/brother, mother/father
-- yet in this case these are not conventional religious terms, for this was no typical place. The Mansion has its own ways and traditions.
*
The Mansion doubles as a convent and monastery: the two institutions share the same building and grounds, a vast Gothic stately home (in French it would be called a chateau) surrounded by gardens, parkland and woods, enclosed by a high wall, hidden deep in the remote countryside of eastern England.
O had gone there at the suggestion of her therapist, in the hope that it would help this wayward wench to deal with her sex addiction. For the Mansion had a special reputation for its libertine values and escapism. This was a place where anything goes, where all ages, all varieties of the human species, can find solace and enlightenment. If you have uncontrollable urges and innate wickedness, this is the place for you.
She arrived in midsummer, having been met at the railway station by a black limousine driven by a hunky chauffeur. They had sped through endless country lanes, O in the back seat, looking out at the fields and trees with growing excitement. She had a feeling in her waters -- she was surely going to have a lot of fun. She put one hand down between her legs, slid her fingertips across her inner thighs until they reached her core, then rubbed herself through the flimsy material of her knickers, wishing the driver would stop and take her into a field and have his way with her. She caught his eye in the rear-view mirror and grinned.
As if he sensed her lust (and in fact she knew she gave off a powerful female scent, sexual chemicals that seemed to make every man desire her) he slowed the car, turned onto a narrow lane that led into a wood and stopped. He said nothing. Just stepped out from the car. She followed. No words were needed. She led him to a small copse and leaned back against a tree. He stood in front of her, his tall powerful frame inches from her, like a giant statue. She reached down, undid his belt and unzipped his trousers. He was not wearing underwear and his sex sprang out, as if to salute her. She took it in her hands, feeling the strong muscle twitch and swell, like some wild serpent. She had an irresistible urge to feel this inside her!
She turned and leaned forward against the tree, offering her rear. She felt him lift her dress and rip down her knickers. She parted her legs wide. She felt like she was in heat, her swollen sex wet and exposed. Almost immediately she felt him pressing against it, opening her easily. She gasped as she felt herself being opened up then filled by him. She was so turned on this was enough to bring her first orgasmic wave, a flood of wetness that meant he slid even more easily, deep into her. She felt her juices seeping out of her, down her inner thighs. He swelled inside her, pulsing hard. He must have been on the edge too, because she suddenly felt another warm flow, not her own, as he throbbed and fired himself into her. He pumped harder, in and out. The warm hard sensation of him against her made her moan and she felt herself surging again...
Mmm, that feels better!
She had so needed that.
He pulled out of her, stood away and pulled up his pants. O, breathing heavily, reached down and pulled up her undies, which immediately became soaking wet. But she didn't care. Sex was inevitable. It was a compulsion, out of her control. She could barely imagine what life at the 'convent' would be like.
The car left her at the main entrance. She looked up at the vast mansion, admiring the wild ivy that grew all over the elegant stonework. The windows seemed to be looking out at her, as if to examine the new girl. Anyone looking out would have seen a tall attractive woman with sensuous curves, long flaming red hair, bright red lips and strangely beautiful eyes. Her short white summer dress showed off her figure.
She climbed the stone steps to the huge wooden door and pulled a cord that rang a distant bell. Almost immediately it swung open and she was confronted by a tall man in a long grey robe. He had jet black hair and oddly piercing eyes with a reddish tint. O felt a twinge of excitement:
What kind of wild folk live here?
'Welcome, young lady. We've been expecting you. Do come in.' He stood aside to let her pass. She stepped into a vast entrance hall with a wide and very grand staircase at the rear, various doors leading off to other rooms and a reception area to the left where a woman in a purple robe was sitting, smiling. She stood, held out her hand to O, who shook it warmly, feeling another pulse of energy in her core. The woman was stunningly attractive, slim but shapely, with long straight dark hair and green eyes. O smiled.
'Welcome, miss. I am Sister Raven. I look after all novices, so you'll be seeing
a lot
of me.'
Did she just wink at me as she said that?
O felt another pang of lust. Raven continued,
'We don't use our real names, so you will be allocated yours. Let me see...' She looked down at a sheet of paper. 'Your full title is Sister Olivia Orgasma. Judging by your rather racy records, which I have closely reviewed, that should suit you well. You may simply be known as O, if you wish. We don't use the formal titles much. It's a rather liberated place and we encourage all kinds of communal activities and sharing.'
Another wink?
This felt good.
'Thank you, Raven. I'm excited to be here.' O felt a warm wetness in her knickers. That urge of hers!
