Her heart races in her chest as she slowly walks toward the altar in the chapel, a drop of cold sweat rolls down the center of her back like an icy intimate caress under her heavy wool habit. Jenna had committed her life to the church but lately, her dreams had tempted and tease her virgin soul farther away from God. She shivers as the sinful reminder of what her dreams had been laying before her, a lot of it within these walls.
The stone walls don't echo as much as they should, the temptation is real to grab the crucifix on the wall, to lift her skirts laying splayed out on the chapel floor like some kind of filthy degenerate as she revels in primal animal need... It's still holy if it's done with religious things in mind right?
she can't really tell what's a dream and what's real anymore. At mealtimes, she is torn between thinking about last night's dreams and wishing for more dreams to come. At first, she prayed for her dreams to be washed clean and pure, now she can't help but to pray for the feeling that her dreams give her...
She remembers the first time, waking up in a cold sweat her body humming in delicious pulses that made her squeal with delight...It left her breathless and panting and hungry for more. Had she developed an addiction to this feeling? maybe and the longer it goes on the worse it gets...It all feels like it's building to some kind of climax...Painfully slow but there has to be an end to this, right? Did she even want this to stop?
She gasps as someone grabs her shoulder, her sweet innocent eyes turn to find the reverend mother standing over her in the pew the older woman's quizzical gaze beats down on poor Jenna making her flush in embarrassment
"Sorry reverend mother." The older woman arches a brow.
"Child, prayer is nothing to apologize for... I just wanted to check on you...You are alone."
Jenna looks around slowly realizing she's lost time again, when she knelt she wasn't alone. Jenna stands from her kneeling position very aware of her weak wobbly knees and the slicked spot between her legs from her daydreaming about tonight's dreaming.
"Sorry reverend mother, I think I will be retiring for the night...I'm exhausted."
she slips past the older woman very aware of her shaking voice, the older woman takes up her side walking with her.
"You seem unwell sister Jenna, is there anything I can do to help you?"
Jenna's mind screams silently -Just give me that same feeling I get at night and I will be fine- she pushes the thought away and smiles weakly.
"I am fine reverend mother, just not sleeping well at night...It will pass I'm sure."
the older woman nods as they stop at the archway that leads to the sisters sleeping quarters, Jenna offers a deep curtsy and excuses herself to her room for the night. She leans against the door as it latches her knees nearly bucking with nervousness leaving her body...What happens if the reverend mother finds out about her depravity? Would they punish her? Or deem her unfit to serve in the church anymore? Turn her out onto the streets with no help?
She strips off her clothes slowly letting the cold air brush against her stronger layer by layer till she's only held in the very same slip she was given last year on the eve of her 18th birthday...A selfish gift but the other sisters made it by hand of a lovely simple silk that Jenna would be forever grateful for....A light sleepwear over the thick wool of most the covens clothes. She shivers as the cool seems to snake its way under the slip to her slicked core, nearly shall she say licking at her teasingly.
She scrambles into bed pulling the blankets up to her neck to fight off the frightening unfamiliar feeling against her most private place. She can't really say unwanted when her body responds clearly so desperate for that feeling...Is it natural or a true sin what's happening seemingly out of her control...An answer she is terrified to get.
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Jenna wakes her hand clamping down over her mouth to muffle a choked scream as her lower stomach clenches in that oh so wonderful way, her legs rub together habitually to make it last. The blankets off her letting the wind brush across her taunt breasts teasing her engorged nipples to the point that she has to relieve the pressure with her free hand fumbling to pull the slip down off her breasts. Her back arching off the bed as she fights for her own silence....This one is strong but when she opens her eyes it's like she's still asleep, with fuzz around the edges of her vision and that floaty feeling like you have in dreams.
She justifies it as she's still dreaming when she feels a ghost of hands sliding across her mostly nude body. A shadow of claws slides across the floor toward the door pausing to crook a devilish finger to lure her forward. Before she knows what she's doing her feet are on the stone floor following the shadow as it coaxes her away from her room and down the hall...Through the convent in nothing but her thin night slip. Her feet drag across the stone as if she's being dragged, stumbling like some kind of drunk. A slave to her dream, unable to control herself.
The shadowed hand slinks up the wall and rests on a simple crucifix on the wall, the wood worn and rounded from being handled for years before being retired to its place on the wall. She pauses at the alter to slip the straps of her slip off her shoulders letting the thin fabric fall....Revealing her nude form that she had been trained to hide from everyone, she leans against the podium letting her hands run over her heated skin down her neck. Slowly, delicately over her breasts and down her taunt little tummy. Butterflies erupt in her belly as her fingertips graze the hairs of her womanly parts. Slowly exploring herself... It's a dream so who is gonna know anyway? Right? She gasps delicately as her fingers slide through slicked folds causing her body to spasm involuntarily...Still sensitive from 'waking up' even though she didn't.
Her delicate fingers delve further into the wetness but her body just ends up craving more as her palm circles across her sensitive little nub. Her legs buckle slightly unable to hold her up against the pleasure, she removes her hand and grabs the crucifix her hand matching up with the shadow that had urged her this far into this madness.
It's like they become one as she lifts the old wood cross from its fixture and holds it to her chest tightly preparing herself for what she's about to do. She spins away from the wall and sits on the chapel steps that lead to the podium. Her bare skin against the smooth stone as she splays herself out like her vision earlier. Her legs spread, her head rested back on a higher step as she uses the cross to trace teasing circles across her breasts and abdomen. Her eyes closed as she imagines it's someone's teasing fingers trailing across her sensitive skin. Giving in to her temptations gives her more pleasure than the acts she's committing, the thrill of her sins driving her crazy.
She arches her back as she manipulates the cross to do what she needs to get that sweet feeling all over again. Slipping it slowly through the wetness of her core over and overgrazing her little bud with the wood. Gently easing it past her folds into her needy wanting hole. Her eyes roll back in her head as she eases herself into her sinful pleasure. She rocks her hips her teeth sank into her lower lip moaning and whimpering like the prostitutes the bible talks about.
She trembles all over as sweat beads up across her pale skin the cool stone steps doing nothing to cool her as she fights desperately for release. Her moans gain in volume as she draws closer to what she needs, she gasps as the cross disappears suddenly as if yanked from her grip. She sits up her heart racing as she fears the reverend mother had caught her, but what she sees lounged in the front pew holding the cross that was just inside her is not an older woman.
He leans back his dark skin seemingly glittered with liquid sin, his dark voice ripples through the air sending shivers down her spin.
