Bad Girls Go To Heaven

(Hey all, here's a little Justine prequel that I wrote a while back. My publisher is closing up shop and I'm not fully certain how it will effect my work here and elsewhere, but I'll try to keep you all posted as I learn more. As always, your questions and comments are welcome via the e-mail in my contact page. Enjoy!))

***

You can see sin in the hips, there is no doubt about it. This is why the early mission founders were so quick to make our famous checkered skirts a standard part of the uniform, it makes the hips easy to spot. In all of St. Jude's class of students, there was no set of hips more prominent, easy-swinging, or completely sinful than the pair that belonged to Justine Thorensdottir. She walked with an easy, sensuous glide that made any viewer feel like she was always on to the next bedroom.

The school had been founded to contain and control such lusts, accepting only students of 18 years or older, those in that most tumultuous and tempestuous time between high school and college who were either born such that they were the elders among their peers or had been held back a year.

If her hips were prominent, her breasts were downright obscene! The humongous twin udders on her chest swung around with all the lewdness of Babylon, even when contained in a bra physics could do nothing to stop their natural sway and bounce, only emphasized by the counter-point of that too-round posterior. I'd watch her enter the school each and every day, that long walk to her locker and then onto her homeroom class, taking note of how others looked at her, documenting their shame for my own purposes later.

How hungrily their eyes would devour her, how carelessly their heads would turn, their lips would part, their bosoms would heave. Obsession with Justine was a problem for virtually all of the student body, most if not all of the teachers, and even Headmaster McMinamin didn't seem immune to her charms. At times I could see his Judas of an erection poking through his robe when in her presence. It as though she was so shameless should could strip away all the shame of those around her, leaving only rutting beasts in heat for her to taunt and torment. I only shudder to think how much worse things would be if there were young men in this school.

She'd come to us as a late start; there was some very tight-lipped murkiness from the top about exactly what had necessitated her transfer to St. Jude's or why we'd opted to accept her, but I didn't doubt for a moment that it had something to do with the vast aura of sex that surrounded the 18-year-old girl.

Whatever it was that had happened, it clearly didn't shatter her emotionally or anything; she smiled without care most of the time, made friends easily (at least among those who were not too intimidated by her for such a connection) and even seemed to keep up quite well in all her classes.

But I knew the truth; knew what a demon the girl was, and just how hard I'd have to work to keep her from hellfire one day. A few weeks after she'd arrived I chose to confront her, stopping her between that walk from her locker to classroom. I was in a hall that she was passing, arms folded as I looked her up and down, and finally spoke my mind.

"I'm watching you, Justine," I growled. I expected her to increase her footsteps, or to drop her books in startled shock, or perhaps to pretend she hadn't heard me in fear.

What she did instead was far worse; she put one hand to the side of her head coquettishly and cocked her hips, looking back over her shoulder like a Betty

Grable pin-up and actually batted her eyes at me!

"I don't blame you, Sister Valencia, everyone else seems to be!" She shook her butt a little, taunting me before she giggled and walked on. I was left slack-jawed and gaping after her, watching that pendulum of an ass sway back and forth before she disappeared into the classroom door. I was overcome with an decidedly un-Christian anger and stomped my way to Father McMinamin's office, throwing the door wide as I burst in, finding the good headmaster bent over his desk, a few translations of scripture opened to the same verses on his desk.

Without looking up he murmured, "Good Morning Sister Valencia."

"I'm not going to apologize for not knocking!" I said.

"You never do either of those things," he said distractedly, putting his finger to one word as he looked for the same in another version. His calm was more infuriating than Thorensdotir's wickedness!

"Well this time it's because I'm TOO angry!"

Finally he gave up, sighing and leaning back to regard me with his always sad-eyed gaze.

"What is courting your wrath this morning, good Sister?"

"It's that new transfer student, Justine. I can sense an arrogance in her, and lust in her demeanor!"

"Well, that's quite serious. What would you like me to do exactly, hm?"

I thought a long moment, not letting myself talk for fear of stammering. A prickling sensation traveled up the back of my neck and I felt warm beneath my wimple; as obvious as her wickedness was to me, it had not yet translated into a punishable action, nothing the headmaster could say, bring as a reason for expulsion to Justine's parents.

I clenched a fist at my hip as I spoke, "Just... just keep an EYE on her! I promise you, she'll act on her nature in time, and you do not want to miss it, lest we risk her corrupting the other students."

Father McMinamin tried to hide his smug little smile underneath a frown and steepled his hands, "Very well, Sister Valencia, I promise I shall be vigilant in the utmost!"

"That is all I ask," I said, my rage abated for the moment. I turned on my heels and left much calmer than I'd arrived.

#

Weeks passed and I found myself quite irate that the headmaster made good on his promise. He was definitely watching Justine, yet I couldn't help but feel that his eyes were wandering far more to the problem areas themselves rather than trying to somehow catch her in the midst of bad behavior. Still, she was keeping her nose surprisingly clean, not deliberately taunting me that I could see, and if she was flaunting her body, it wasn't in ways I could document or point to.

All that changed however, when we decided to put on that stupid pageant.

As a Catholic all-girls school, of course, we did not hold dances, nor allow for our students to perform in athletic events associated with the stronger sex, yet from time-to-time, largely for fundraising purposes, we would allow our students to turn to the dramatic arts, putting on various re-enactments of biblical scenes or even staged interpretations of C.S. Lewis from time-to-time. I never much cared for his brand of secularized faith, but I know money moves the world and dropped all complaint when I saw just how much a successful production can bring in.

Thus, I largely ignored our occasional drama program, but when I found out that Justine had turned out to perform, I could be found in the back of the auditorium every day, watching just what was going on in this season's production of "The Screwtape Letters."

For a time, it was dreadfully boring. Untalented young women acting badly, saying the same lines over and over again. After a few days I was quite sure that there would ultimately be nothing to see here, but I hadn't actually seen Justine on the stage yet. When we got to the small part she'd been given I took serious interest; among the various temptations the main character known only as The

Patient goes through as the forces of Hell try to sway him into their camp, there is a moment where a licentious woman attempts to seduce him.

Guess who was to play the temptress? Of course it was her! I would have to speak to the drama teacher at some point to figure out whether the little skank had volunteered for this role, or if rather, instead, seeing her lush curves and confident swagger she'd been cast simply because she fit the part. I clenched my fists as she spoke through her lines.

If I'm being perfectly honest, she was actually one of the better actors; I shouldn't have been surprised, the dramatic arts are deceitful by nature, and here was a deceiver in the ample flesh before us all! She was definitely leaning into her roll, tilting her pelvis to show off the curve of her hips at the young woman chosen to play Henry, even moving so that her heavy bust would give a jiggle or bounce from time-to-time (was she even wearing a bra? She was so firm! It was hard to tell!)

But the real show-stopping moment came when the drama teacher gave notes after the first run through.

"Justine, you're doing a great job, really wonderful, but could we try something a little different? We want to tip our hand to the audience a little, they need to know that you're working with The Enemy in this scene."

Justine cocked her head, "Okay, do you want me to try to look a little angry or something?"

"I was thinking something a bit lighter maybe? Like, maybe you could do something weird with your eyes or, I don't know, can you do any strange-looking tricks?"

Justine shrugged, "How about this?"

Screams ripped through the auditorium, drawing my gaze from a moment of distraction to the girl's face.

Sweet Merciful God!

Justine had opened her mouth and just... spilled all this TONGUE out of her mouth! The damn thing was a healthy light purple, but it hung well below the line of her jaw; the cursed creature could have probably licked one of her nipples if she were so inclined! She rolled it back up into her mouth somehow. There were a series of scattered murmurs and shocked gasps, as well as some titters and giggles.

"That's uh... very impressive Justine, but it might be a bit much. Maybe just half of that?" The drama teacher finally managed.

That was the last thing I'd heard because I was already storming my way back to the seat of power at the school.

#

Once again as I dramatically stormed into Father McMinamin's office her didn't even look up from his scripture.

"Sister Valencia, always a pleasure," he said.

"The girl is a DEMON!" I shouted.

"Do tell," he said indifferently, a slightly pained tone in his voice.

"I've been watching the rehearsals for the seasonal play. She's not human! Her tongue is like that of a beast, not a man!"

With a heavy sigh he looked up, taking the reading glasses from his head and meeting my gaze, "Well which is it Sister Valencia? Is she a demon or a beast?"

I opened my mouth, but was too angry to make sound come out.

"I am aware of the unusual nature of her anatomy, Sister., In fact I was apprised of it when her adoptive parents first put in for her to start here. Do you think she can help the unusual nature of her anatomy? That she chose such an outlandish quirk any more than you chose the pitch of your voice or the color of your eyes?

She is as God made her."

"But... But Father McMinimin!" I didn't really have more to add, I just wanted him to see right.

"I'm going to make myself perfectly clear, Sister. Until and unless Justine Thorensdotir actually DOES something...commits some sort of act that is worth my time or attention, I'd like you to try to focus on her a little less. Do I make myself clear?"

He'd dropped his voice into it's lowest register, a warning growl, a daddy-voice for lack of a better term.

"Yes, Father," I said, barely above a whisper as I hung my head a little, anger extinguished by shame.

That might have been where things rested if I hadn't passed Justine one more time on my way out of school for the day.

"Sister Valencia," She said just before I'd headed through the front door.

I fought myself into calm, determined to try and let things go.

"Yes, Justine child?"

She smiled warmly, "Well this is a little embarrassing, but I could help but notice your breasts are almost as big as mine. I wanted to ask where you buy your bras,

I'm having a hard time finding them in my size."

That was the final straw. I didn't answer her, instead just giving an indignant growl as I swept outside, slamming the door behind me. Even the sturdy oak didn't stop me from hearing the giggle that chased my ears out. Then and there I decided I was putting a stop to this once and for all, no matter the cost.

#

"That'll be forty-three, seventy-two, sweetheart. You going to a costume party or something?"

The clerk's question was not unreasonable. Why would a true Sister in full habit and wimple be buying a bottle of whiskey, pornography, cigarettes and a bar of chocolate after all?

"Something like that," I said. I didn't like to lie of course, but I was already in too deep to turn back now.

It was very early in the morning, a full hour before I'd normally be at the school. I took my sinful items and made my way there, letting myself in, enjoying the dead silence of a huge building in the absence of all the students. I made my way through the halls until I came to Justine's locker. Luckily it was one of the one's I'd used when I was her age and I still remembered the combination after all of these years.

Inside were the normal things a girl would keep; a spare uniform, sanitary items, books that belonged to the school and a postcard from Paris. I shoved the things I'd bought inside, (well not the chocolate, that was for me) making sure to scatter them around so that they looked as slovenly as possible. I made sure to leave one cigarette on the ground in front of the locker; this would be the reason we had to search and discover her contraband.

I knew it wasn't right, but SHE wasn't right, and this simply had to stop.

Now when I walked for the headmaster's office, it was with the smug spring in my step of one who knows they're going to get what they want. Father

McMinamin was usually in his office early, so I stormed in with my usual flare, wanting to make my deceit look as genuine as possible.

"FATHER, I FOUND—" I froze.

The headmaster was seated on the edge of his desk, his pants a pool of fabric on the floor, providing knee-comfort f or Justine Thorensdotir, her unmistakable ass pointed in my direction as her head bobbed and bounced, sloppy wet noises of a... oh I'll just come out and say it, a dick being sucked. She turned to look at me, her eyes aggravatingly calm as that giant tongue stayed around his dick, coiled like a snack on a tree.

He did have quite the tree. I tore my eyes from that and made myself make eye contact; he was frozen like a deer in the headlights, clearly ashamed to have been caught, as he should have been, of course.

But Justine knew no shame, slithering her impossible tongue back into her mouth and slowly standing to face me,

"Good morning, Sister Valencia."

"DON'T YOU GOOD MORNING ME! You... You... HARLOT!"

She just smiled a secretive little smile, "Oh sister, I'd rather be a harlot any day than a miserable woman obsessed with what she won't let herself have."

Father McMinamin stifled a laugh behind a hand, staying out of this for the moment, but he seemed to relax a little.

"What's the supposed to mean you little strumpet!?" I fired back, stiffening up at the unnerving quality of her gaze. She was so beautiful, and so calm, like I hadn't just caught her in the act.

"It's obvious. You never take your eyes of f of me when I'm around. You go out of your way to be in my presence constantly. I bet you spend all your time thinking about me when I'm not around. Go on, be honest, tell me I'm wrong." She took a two steps towards me, deliberate, commanding steps that put the usual bounce and sway of her exquisite curves into glorious slow-motion.

I couldn't find words or actions, I was just left to sputter, finally shooting a helpless look at the headmaster, "You know I hate her! Go on! Tell her!" I ordered him, determined to stop this line of conversation that was making me so so so uncomfortable.

But he betrayed me with a shake of his head and a chuckle, "She's right, Margaret. Kicking your way into my office with some complaint or another is nothing new of course, but they used to CHANGE. You've talked about nothing but Justine the whole time she's been here."

"But... But... But..." my useless 'buts' hung in the air as Justine closed the gap to me the last few steps, putting a hand behind my head and pulling me into a lush, passionate kiss.

The world collapsed around me; there was no office, no headmaster, no desk or light or even a Margaret Valencia; no, now there was just that kiss and the whole of my soul was inside it in a moment. The anger I'd been holding simply melted into new and complicated feelings I couldn't understand. I didn't know what to do, so I just went with it.

I didn't feel like I was abandoning my faith oddly enough; it felt more like I was following it, that this was something God wanted for me as antithetical as that seemed. As much as I tried to tell myself that this was some lie of the devil or weakness of spirit, the bright beacon-pulse of grace filled my heart and mind instead.

I kissed her back, moaning into it, howling into her mouth like I was escaping my body into her, and she just met my intensity, her massive breasts crushing into mine, their combined softness unable to keep the rest of our bodies from coming together. The kiss lasted a long moment, our tongues exploring one another, and hers significantly more due to its insane length. When I pulled back to gasp for breath she caressed my cheek with the back of my hand.

"There there, now. Isn't that nicer?"

I could only nod, fighting a sob; I wasn't sad or self-pitying exactly, just so overwhelmed.

She turned, beckoning with a hand like she was introducing me to the headmaster for the first time, "Father Mickey has a nice cock, doesn't he? Would you like to share it with me?"

God YES.

As I drew closer to the desk, my breath quickening, Justine smiled sweetly at the clear confusion on my face.

"Are you so surprised you want to? Yes you've been obsessed with me, but even before then you were finding every little excuse to come here, to see him."

I knelt before the headmaster as I would kneel before communion, about to take a holy sacrament of an entirely different type into my mouth. In truth, even before I'd taken the vows I'd never sucked a dick; I was no virgin, but my daliences with men had been short, unsatisfying and largely with my eyes closed. No I was confronted with indisputable MALENESS, and if my few previous partners were any indicator, the Father was indeed remarkably well-endowed, perhaps longer than 8 inches in length, and built thick like a an organ-pipe. It was glistening with Justine's lust, but after we'd just made out I wasn't about to complain. I stuck my tongue out and gingerly licked my way from the base of him to the tip, eyes drifting upwards to gauge his reaction.

He was grinning down at me, his eyes dreamy and delirious as I worked. "It's not just you, Sister. I always wanted this too."

Justine sank to her knees next to me, reaching one hand around me to grope my left breast as she stroked his cock with her fingers where I wasn't sucking,

"That's good Sister. I'll teach you to do this so well he'll never stray."

And so I followed her lead, letting her guide he and I down this scary, wonderful path we were now walking. She started just by joining me in the licking, using just enough of her tongue so that I didn't feel inadequate by comparison, the two of us trailing twisting paths around the thick column of meat, leaving our own gleaming streaks on the surface of his skin.

She put a hand to my head, gently moving me lower with her, confronting me with the large pair of surprisingly smooth balls beneath his prodigious member.

They each looked bloated and felt heavy on my tongue; as I cupped them in a hand to give myself better access I realized that judging from their weight he'd been every bit as true to his vows as I had before this moment. So strange that this beautiful young woman was all we needed to bridge the gap between us.