Hello. For those of you who don’t yet know me, my name is Sister Victoria, and this is my third entry.
In my last entry I discovered who Mother Superior really was. In the following months I’ve received more delicious “punishment” than I think my body or soul were ever prepared for. I have become her regular concubine, performing and pleasing her dark wishes. I can honestly say that I enjoy the way we service each other. With every passing day and erotic adventure I can feel the inklings of love maturing within me. I am also quite positive that she feels the same.
As for the one that introduced me into this intoxicating world, Damien, I have taken control of him very nicely. I have learned all there is to learn from him and I use this information to torture, tease, and drive him to melting orgasms. The more we fuck the more he willingly becomes entranced in me. Even after months since we were caught, I have yet to tell him of Mother Superior. I didn’t want to frighten him off or give him the feeling that his competing for me. Mother Superior and Damien are on completely different playing field. I didn’t want to stop fucking either of them for the world. With Damien it’s simply that, fucking. I had only two foreseeable options before my little triangle collapsed right on top of me. Tell him the whole truth and possibly crush him, or simply break it off. So I decided the latter. To protect his heart and ego, I lied.
He came to me in his usual way, under the cover of night. Upon his arrival I began my deceit. As he cleared my window he found me seated at the edge of my bed crying. He immediately rushed over to console me.
“Sister Victoria, what’s wrong” he said sweetly. “Please, talk to me.” He put his arm around me.
“Damien, dear. I am sorry but I can’t be with you anymore.” I sobbed franticly.
His arm stiffened then fell away. “What? Was.was it something I said. Something I did?” He stammered softly. “Please don’t leave me.” He pleaded, choking back tears. “Sister Victoria, I love…”
I cut him off before he could finish saying it. “ No, Damien. Really, it’s not you.” I said slowing my crying. “ I’ll explain.” Here it goes I thought, the BIG lie. “ I was two weeks late with my period, I do think I was pregnant. I say was because it came today. But the pain was worse.” I started up the crying again. “Damien, I miscarried a child. Our child.”
He started to become frenzied. He began speaking so fast that I couldn’t follow and had to slow him down.
With a deep breath he said, “But we can start using condoms, or I can have my doctor write you a prescription for birth control.”
He certainly didn’t give up easy, but I continued, “The last two weeks have been really difficult for me. I really thought I, we, would be exposed in time. Now I want to use this experience as a warning. I need to stop. Damien, I’m sorry. It was fun while it lasted, but now I find that I’m raked with guilt. Damien, I’m going to confession tomorrow. With luck I won’t be removed of my title. And don’t worry, I won’t tell Monsignor who I was sleeping with.”
He began to cry, then said, “ I understand. I knew this couldn’t last forever. I just didn’t think it would end so soon or abruptly.” His head was bowed in his hands. He was defeated and alone. “ I’ll be on my way then.” He turned to leave, turned and said. “Sister Victoria?”
“Yes?” I replied.
“I love you.” Then he was gone.
Damn it! Why did he have to say that? Now I was beginning to feel guilty. I tried to shake the feeling off and went to bed.
The next morning when I awoke I found instead of the guilt fading it got worse. I replayed the events of the last night in my head. God. What the fuck had I turned into? Me a nun just broke up with her lover for the love of another woman, also a nun. I felt like an utter disgrace and I had to go to confession. Even if it meant that I would have to give up my position, I would. I would also stay true to my promise; I would not under any cost divulge any names. It was settled.
I carried out my morning chores, making sure that the church had cleared of all other confessors. Then exhaling sharply I entered the small confessional.
It was dark and cramped, and smelled of old incense. I proceeded to tell Monsignor of all my sins. The occasional gasp would escape him.
He sounded horrified when he spoke. “Sister Victoria, step out of my confessional immediately.”
I did as instructed, fearing the worst. He exited the booth as I did. I quickly dropped to my knees and begged, “Please, please forgive me. I see the error of my way. Please allow me to remain in God’s service.” While pleading with him I looked up to notice a growing bulge in his pants.
“Monsignor?” I was confused.
