The First Book of the Merciful Nun

Taking the torn remnants of the dress away, the girl left Molly to her bath, to dress herself and return to being Sister Lucia. Over the months her private parts became less and less hairy as Declan visited from time to time, but she never got used to his peculiarities, and feared his visits, as she did the majority of her duties.

***

Chapter 22 School Uniform

Visitors of many kinds came and went as the weeks went by. Some wanted to seduce a nun, others to humiliate a young wife; some to dally with what they called a French maid; one asked her to sing to him first; still others merely wanted to spend their passion into her body and leave as quickly as possible. Some visited only once, others soon became regulars. Often Molly was punished at the end of the visits for some error, real or imagined, and she came to realise that this was for their pleasure, and not to correct her faults. Occasionally she was required to chastise a visitor, but she quickly learned to do so with a light hand. As it happened, none of her first few visitors resorted to sodomy, so for a while she remained blissfully ignorant of this particular form of indulgence.

Between visits, back in her cell, Sister Lucia spent much time on her knees praying for Molly's soul.

Late one afternoon, Molly was surprised to be given the uniform long skirt, blouse and jumper of a schoolgirl, complete with the badge of one of the best known girls' schools in the country.

"You have a special visitor who will stay all night tonight," said Monsignor Flavin, who had brought the clothing himself, "You will wear these, with nothing beneath them, and he wishes to teach a naughty virgin schoolgirl about sex. Then he will punish her for her misbehaviour. Then he will sleep in your bed, with you, for what remains of the night. His instructions were most specific."

"As you wish, Master," she shrugged, "What do I call him?"

"You are learning fast. You address His Em..." he broke off, "him as Papa. He is the father of the naughty schoolgirl."

"Who is he?" she asked.

"That is unimportant, and not for you to know or find out," said the Monsignor firmly, "Now prepare yourself. He will be here in two hours and you will start off by dining here with your Papa. After that you do whatever he wants."

Dinner, much to her relief, was a very one-sided affair. Molly was served with her usual frugal meal, while her 'Papa' was served a comparatively sumptuous repast of onion soup, followed by smoked salmon, followed by mutton chops, followed by an apple pie, and rounded off with some extremely smelly cheese. Each course was accompanied by wine, of which none was offered to her. During the meal the conversation was very desultory, and totally innocuous while the serving girls were passing to and fro. Molly noticed that the partly consumed bottles of wine were left on the dressing table, which had been cleared temporarily to serve as a sideboard.

After the cheese board had been cleared away, 'Papa' went over to the door and locked it.

"Now, my dear," he said, "We can talk in peace, without all those people interrupting."

Molly answered shyly, "What about, Papa?"

She sat on the bed, which was doing duty as a sofa, next to her 'Papa' and felt very odd in school uniform, the more so because she had no underwear. That thought made her private parts dampen.

"Well, you could start by telling me if you have been a good girl at school?" he said.

This was better, she could recognise a cue when she heard one.

"I've tried to be, Papa," she said, then dropped her eyes, "Honestly I have. It's the teachers; they don't like me."

"The teachers tell me you were very naughty," he chided, "They seem to think you should be punished. They tell me you don't wear your school uniform properly."

Better still, now she knew exactly what to do. She sprang to her feet, moving away and turning to face him.

"But Papa, look at me. What is wrong with the way I wear the school uniform?"

"The teachers say you don't wear the regulation underthings," his voice rose in excitement as he realised the woman was playing along.

'It's so nice to find one who isn't too stupid to play the rôle properly,' he thought, knowing that at the very least she had no brassière on, 'Breasts which are constrained don't bounce like that. And if she does have drawers on, I shall enjoy removing them.'

"The teachers say you even come into class with no drawers on," he insisted, "That would be very naughty, wouldn't it?"

He loved the way she blushed as the accusation hit home.

'This will be the best one Monsignor Flavin has found yet,' he thought, 'I hope I get another go at her before she falls pregnant. Well, it certainly won't be my get that she carries.'

"Come here and show me you are wearing the correct drawers," he ordered sternly.

"No, Papa, please. That would be rude. The teachers say I mustn't show my drawers to anybody," she begged.

"Come here this minute," he thundered, "And tell me to whom you have been showing them."

Reluctantly, she moved to stand before him, saying, "Papa, it was an accident."

"What was an accident?"

"The boys seeing my drawers. I slipped over on the snow."

'Inventive, too. Better and better,' he thought.

"Hmm. That isn't what the teachers told me. Now lift that skirt and show me your drawers."

She lifted the skirt almost to her knees.

"Higher, I can't see them yet."

Just above the knees.

"Higher."

Mid-thigh.

"Higher."

"Please, no, Papa," she begged again.

He was implacable, as firm as the pole which was making a tent of his trousers, "Higher."

As she obeyed, the very tip of the triangle of hair on her belly came into view below the hem of her skirt and her 'Papa' thought for a moment that he would disgrace himself in his trousers.

'This one is a brilliant find,' he thought, 'Perhaps I could move her into my household. A nun would not look out of place there.'

He dismissed the thought; there would be too many temptations, on both sides, with all the young priests coming and going. A nun would not seem out of place, but a pregnant nun in the Aras ...

"Lift your skirt right up," he ordered, "I know you have no drawers on. That is extremely naughty."

"Please don't spank me, Papa," Molly whimpered, enjoying her rôle and looking forward to the end of the little play when she just knew she would shudder very hard, probably when her 'Papa' shuddered himself, deep inside her, "Please don't."

She lifted her skirt to her chin, showing herself completely devoid of covering below the waist.

"Take off that jumper," he ordered.

When she had dropped her skirt and done so he looked carefully at her chest, then reached out and cupped one breast through the thin blouse.

"Just as I thought," he muttered, "No brassière."

He looked at her with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. He strode over to the dressing table and drank a glass of wine from one of the bottles. Then he rummaged in the drawer.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, brandishing the knout.

"Y-yes," said Molly, the fearful stammer far from play acting.

"Over the chair arm, if you please. I'll teach you not to disobey the Sisters at school."

Her 'Papa' was still playing the rôle in which he had cast himself, the irate father of a recalcitrant schoolgirl. Both knew she was a mature woman however, and both knew that she was about to be thrashed. She moved over to the armchair, feeling slightly foolish in the school uniform blouse and long skirt. Slowly she bent over one arm of the chair, taking her weight on her shoulders on the other arm, allowing her breasts to hang down, tightening the blouse material. 'Papa' watched this with interest and contemplated having her remove the blouse, but decided against that because a real father would not do so. Chastisement on a bare bottom, however, was quite usual.

"Lift your skirt, you bad girl," he said.

Slowly, to tease him, Molly raised the skirt to reveal a pair of pink and white bottom cheeks with just a wisp of hair peeping between the tight closed thighs.

"Feet apart, miss," was the next order.

CRACK!

Molly was expecting the all-over pain of the knout's many tails. Although she had been caned on the bare bottom at the Convent School, mostly by an elderly nun who seemed to enjoy such things, she had forgotten just how painful it could be when all the strength of the blow was concentrated in a single stroke. She screamed aloud.

"Good," said 'Papa', "Five more like that and perhaps you'll remember to wear drawers in future."

'Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He's using the cane. He's still playing the angry father chastising his school girl daughter, oh God; he's still playing and I've five more of those to come,' she thought wildly, 'What would happen if I stood up now?'

She was sorely tempted, but she was more afraid of what might happen if she did than she was of the caning. Monsignor Flavin would undoubtedly punish her terribly, thrashing her very thoroughly before throwing her out on the streets. She resolved to bear the next five strokes without a murmur.

CRACK!

Molly remained silent, though she almost bit through her lip to do so. It seemed to incense the old man even more.

CRACK!!

The third stroke was even harder, and she could not help herself; she burst into uncontrollable sobbing and crying; tears fell like rain.

'Papa' moved on in his prey. He smoothed and caressed her burning skin with one hand, his fingers slipping below her buttocks and into the crack to finger her labia. Automatically she opened her legs wider to allow him access, and jumped slightly as he slid his hand into the hot wet hole. Then he ran his wet fingers up the crack between her cheeks and slid one digit into her other entrance. She twisted slightly in an attempt to dislodge the questing finger. It withdrew, much to her relief.

CRACK!!

Another mighty blow laid a line of fire across her bottom. She would not sit down for days, she thought. Again the hand rubbed the abused skin, actually adding to the pain. Again two fingers teased her little nubbin before entering her vagina. Again they trailed up the crack and this time both entered her bum.

When she twitched he said, "Behave. Be still!"

Still sobbing uncontrollably, she tried her best to obey him, and submitted to the two fingers probing her most private place. She remembered that Monsignor Flavin had pushed his fingers in there and had said that some visitors would want to do this. The fingers withdrew.

CRACK!

Molly almost passed out with the pain of the fifth blow, mostly because it was almost exactly on the line of a previous stroke.

CRACK!

The sixth came in quick succession and she screamed again.

'Papa' stopped her rising by pressing gently on the small of her back, so she stayed where she was as he groped her bottom, thrust several fingers into her now sopping vagina, and then three wet digits insinuated themselves into the narrow passage between her buttocks.

Suddenly the hand withdrew and she heard the rustle of cloth behind her.

'He's taking his trousers off. Now he'll do it to me and I can shudder,' thought a part of her mind which was not concerned with the screaming pain of her tender skin.

Much to her surprise he did not thrust immediately into her vagina, but moved the head of his member up and down between her labia, as though to lubricate it.

'He doesn't need to do that,' she thought, 'I'm wet through already.'

Then the hot hard rod moved upwards and without the slightest pause thrust several inches into her hitherto virgin rear entrance.

"No! No, no nonono!" she howled as a tearing burning pain in her rectum banished all thought of the caning she had just received.

She thrashed about in agony as 'Papa' gripped her hips tightly and thrust further into her bowels.

"This is what I want," he grunted, "and this is what I will have. Take it."

The pain was unbearable, and Molly soon succumbed to the swirling colours which welled up in her mind.

When she recovered her senses it was to find the pain was still horrendous as the man behind her thrust in and out of her narrower passage without any thought for her comfort. Her breasts hurt abominably also and it took her some moments to realise that this was because he had run his hands under her blouse and was gripping her body by these two tender handles to increase the thrust he could achieve into her vitals. She passed out again for a few moments.

When she came round the second time it was to an odd feeling of water spattering on her lower back. Then she remembered what was happening and knew that her 'Papa' was shuddering all over her bum, At least he had taken his thing out of her tight bottom, and the pain there was somewhat less.

'Papa' leant back as the last drops fell from his prick and contemplated the woman before him. Her bottom was criss-crossed with red lines from the caning; her dark rosebud was opening and closing like a winking eye. Semen was spattered on her skin and was seeping, tinged pink by a little blood, from her well used back passage.

'There,' he thought, 'That was good. She played the game well, and her bum was hot and tight. Maybe Monsignor Flavin was right when he said it was virgin. Best of all, I leave no little bastards behind me to be an embarrassment in the future. God knows, it was difficult to resist the temptation of that beautiful little vagina.'

Ignoring her completely, he took off the rest of his clothes and got into bed.

When Molly slowly lifted herself to upright, he said, "Go and clean yourself up; then come into bed with me."

She went painfully into the bathroom and took off the blouse, noting that it was torn and wondering if she would be held responsible and punished for that. A soak in the bath for as long as she dared eased some of the pain, and removed all the accumulated sweat and male and female emissions. She wondered whether to stimulate herself into shuddering, but dared not, much as she would have liked to do so.

Back in the bedroom, she got into bed beside her 'Papa' and found, much to her relief, that he was already asleep.

It was sometime in the middle of the night that she awoke from a wonderful dream to discover that he was playing with her little nubbin and she was on the point of shuddering.

Then he stopped and said, "Turn round."

"What?" she asked, still half asleep.

"Turn so that your head is down the bed," he ordered.

Not really understanding, she did what he directed and found herself confronted by a large, none too clean, male member. At the other end of the bed her 'Papa' had resumed his stimulation of her nubbin, and had slipped a finger deep inside her vagina. She felt her climax approaching again. Again he stopped short of allowing it.

"Get on with it," he said, and she dutifully took his member in her mouth.

Satisfied, he resumed his ministrations to her nubbin and the delving of his finger, adding a second one as she opened wider and began thrusting up towards his hands. Soon she was carried away on the crest of a wave and shuddered and shuddered and shuddered. When she didn't stop shuddering as she would have done with Monsignor Flavin, she reapplied herself with much enthusiasm to 'Papa' and her task of pleasing him.

All too soon, the warm tube in her mouth shuddered and filled her mouth with its salty offering, which she dutifully swallowed. Immediately he took his hands away from her nubbin, and the continuous shudder he had magically induced in her stopped.

The next thing she knew, it was daylight and 'Papa' was shaking her shoulder.

"Come on," he said, "Over that chair. I want that arse again before I go."

Inwardly she cringed at the crudity, though she had heard the word before from visitors.

"Please, not that, Papa," she asked.

"Forget the Papa nonsense," he ordered, "That was last night. This morning I just want to have you again and then go. Get yourself over the chair and be quick about it, or I'll use the cane again."

She moved with alacrity and steeled herself for the pain. It was excruciating as he had made no attempt to lubricate her this time, and all his semen had long since oozed out or dried where it was. Fortunately for her, he quickly opened up the small tear in her anal wall which he had made the night before and her own blood eased his thrusting. Then there was suddenly ample lubricant flooding into the hole from his pulsating member, and he pulled out after a few more strokes.

He grabbed the nearest available cloth, which happened to be a napkin from the night before, to wipe the mixed blood and semen from his prick, dressed and left.

Molly moved over to the dressing table, where all the part bottles of wine from the night before were still standing, and sampled three of them, deciding that they were all uniformly much too tart for her taste. Perhaps if she had chanced on the port she would have enjoyed it, but she didn't.

Cleaning herself thoroughly, she dressed again in her habit and Swiss wimple. Leaving Molly firmly behind in the bedroom of sin, Sister Lucia sailed majestically along the corridors and back to her cell, where she said the first day of a special Novena for the soul of her 'Papa'.

***

Chapter 23 Surprised Visitor

Her next experience was more surprising than pleasant for her. She was again dressed in a simple housewife's frock, buttoned right down the front, over the sensible brassière and knickers when her visitor came in. He was much younger than her previous visitors, only two or three years older than herself, and she could understand a she surveyed his solid figure that he would have had temptation from every young woman, and some not so young, in his parish.

"Oh," he said, surprise and shock written across his features, "Er ... I think I'm in the wrong room."

Though Monsignor Flavin had been careful not to let them meet, Molly knew that her predecessor's name was Gertrude, and this look of surprise was because Gertrude had returned to her convent.

"Gertrude has returned to her former house," she said by way of explanation, "You are not in the wrong room; Monsignor Flavin would not permit that to happen."

Then she branched out even further from the strict obedience to her Master's injunction not to ask questions.

"What would you like me to do, or what would you like to do?" she asked.

The priest appeared to be considering this for a moment and then he asked, "What may I do?"

"Anything at all," she replied, causing his trousers to tent noticeably.

He moved across the room towards her and reached for the button at the top of her dress. She moved adroitly away and closed the door.

"there, that's better," she said and walked back to where he stood.

Lifting his hand with one of hers she placed his hand on the neckline of her dress. Taking the hint he again started to unbutton the front of her dress, beginning to reveal the lithe young body beneath it. When he had reached the waist level, she shrugged the dress off her shoulders so that it was held up only be her hips. Two more buttons and it slid to the floor, leaving her standing clad only in brassière and knickers.

Father Reilly gazed at this vision, so different from the pregnant Gertrude of his last visit, and wondered exactly how he had been so lucky as to be given this young woman as a plaything. He quickly undressed, leaving his clothes strewn about the floor. While he did so, Molly stood still and allowed him to look time and again at the slim bellied body which would soon be his toy, to fuck, to sodomise, to punish, to ... anything. He almost came at the thought of it.

As he removed his underwear he revealed a firm, clean erection which Molly was not unwilling to suck; in fact she quite looked forward to it. However, that was not to be. For him, being sucked had merely been a stepping stone to fucking his little playmate, a necessary step in the process of seduction. No persuasion was needed her; he could go straight to the fucking he wanted, or perhaps the sodomy whose delights Gertrude had offered him.