by Dante King
“Right,” I said, “but aren’t nuns celibate all the time?”
Sister moll’s eyebrows flew upward in absolute shock. “Good gods, Justin, what an Earthling thing to say! No, we nuns of the Nunnery of Pulchra Vanitati do not practice lifelong celibacy. Where would be the fun in that?”
“Good point,” I said.
“Quite. No, we practice the art of Lovely Frustration.”
“And what’s that?” I asked as I was jostled this way and that as the novice nuns moved around us. A few times I thought that I might have felt a wayward hand grab my ass.
“It’s the strict diet of all things of the flesh,” Sister Moll explained. “We abstain for two months at a time from all pleasures of that kind.”
“Even, you know, like, flicking the bean?” Damien asked, managing to disentangle himself from a pair of nuns that were twining themselves around his naked torso. I’d never seen him wear a shirt, so I’d mostly forgotten that he didn’t ever wear one. But now that the nuns couldn’t keep their hands off him, it became obvious.
“Even that, Damien,” Sister Moll said.
“Two months without hand starting the one-eyed yoghurt thrower, Nigel,” I said, nudging the halfling with my elbow. “You’d probably explode.”
Nigel turned a ruby red face on me. I noticed that he had a smear of lipstick on one cheek and his glasses were completely fogged up.
“And so what is happening today?” I asked.
“Ah, today is the breaking of the fast, as it were?” Sister Moll said. “For the next twenty-four hours, the novices may do as they please. With whom they please…”
Each of the fraternity brothers’ heads turned to Sister Moll after she had uttered that little declaration.
“Is that so?” Bradley said carefully. He had a novice under each arm and was being gently molested by a third.
“Yes, yes, it’s been so long since we’ve even touched ourselves!” said a wood elf with copper hair and liquid brown eyes.
“Too long!” moaned a cute dwarf, wringing her hands in the same way that someone who’d been wandering about in the desert might, on suddenly seeing an oasis.
“Won’t you let us show you our cells?” another asked.
“They’re so nice!” came another, bolder voice form out of the crowd. “The ceilings have just been repainted.”
The four faces of the other fraternity brothers looked at me in mute appeal. I glanced briefly at Sister Moll who smiled.
“Fuck, you heard the sister,” I said. “We seemed to have arrived on quite an important day.”
“Auspicious,” said Rick, who seemed to have taken quite a liking to the word.
“Exactly,” I said. “Boys, do what you gotta do!”
“It seems like it’s a charitable act,” Bradley said, allowing himself to be towed away by his three nuns.
I laughed and waved as Nigel was literally picked up off his feet and carried away like a piece of human flotsam on a horny river of black and white wearing young ladies.
Somehow, I politely managed to extricate myself from the bunch of young women who had formed a ring around me, and waded through the gabbling, babbling throng to make it to where Sister Moll was standing and observing the excited crush.
“Your friends seem to have given themselves up to the novices quite willingly and selflessly,” Sister Moll said.
I laughed and nodded my head. “Yeah, they’re a bunch of saints, those guys. So selfless.” I watched as Rick walked out of the room. He was being led by a tall, blonde nymph and followed behind by a dwarf. He also had a nun thrown over each of his broad shoulders. What with the size of him, compared to the nuns, he looked like a cruise ship that was being guided into port by a team of tugboats.
“And what about you, Justin?” Sister Moll asked me.
“Me?”
“Yes, will you be helping some of our novices expend some of their pent up energy?” Sister Moll asked.
“It’s holey work, Justin! Get it? Holey work?” Damien yelled enthusiastically. He raised a goblet that some nun had brought him and red wine sloshed onto his bare chest. In an instant, a nun darted in and ran an eager tongue over his pectoral muscle to clean up the spillage.
I thought about the offer that Sister Moll, and her novices, were making. I mean, it was a rare day that a guy found himself in an abbey filled to the brim with licentious nuns. I could count how many times it had happened to me on one hand.
But I had a superpower, one that had to be kept secret. If I went around screwing every beautiful nun who decided she’d had enough of celibacy and wanted a bone, then there was a chance that whatever magical powers they had might be increased. And that meant the knowledge that I was a Creation Mage wouldn’t remain a secret. Sure, I couldn’t keep it a secret forever, but Chaosbane had warned me about letting it get out. From now, I supposed I’d only fuck women I could trust. Probably a good thing anyway, really.
With a sigh, I looked at Sister Moll.
“I think,” I said, kind of surprised to hear the words coming out of my own mouth, “that I’m going to take this opportunity to actually do a bit of thinking, if that’s okay with you?”
There was a chorus of disappointed groans from the nuns that were still crowding me, but Sister Moll shushed them with a gesture.
“You mean while your friends are busy, you’re going to take the opportunity to work through some things in your head?” Sister Moll asked.
“Yeah. I’ve had quite a bit of news recently that I should really try and digest. Might make an interesting change using this head,” and I pointed to my noggin, “rather than the head below my belt.”
Sister Moll inclined her head understandingly. “I perceive the wisdom in that,” she said. “Feel free to roam the nunnery and uncloud your head. Who knows, if you find the clarity you seek, you might end up clearing both your heads.”
I had to admit I liked the sound of it. I almost turned back too, when, as I was walking out of the room, I heard Sister Moll say, “Girls, girls! Do not be too disappointed. This merely means that you will have to alleviate your frustrations with one another.”
There’s a hell of an image, I thought as I began to wander aimlessly about the labythine building.
I spent a good quarter of an hour cruising through the dimly lit and peaceful corridors, mulling over everything that I had learned that day. The idea that my old man’s spirit might be contained within my vector was one that I was struggling to get my head around. Meeting an estranged parent for the first time, even in the most conventional circumstances would be weird. To be introduced to your father’s soul though, which was trapped in a staff… It wasn’t like you could have a catch-up over a cold pint with a crystal staff, was it?
Lost in these thoughts, I wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to where I was going. I rounded a corner and found myself staring down a somewhat darker corridor, lit only by a few solitary candles glowing in nooks in the wall. At the far end of this corridor, another heavy wooden door stood ajar. Never one to curb my curiosity, I walked down the corridor and toed open the door.
I found myself in a long, low room, which was clearly a chapel of some kind. There were two rows of seating with an aisle running down the middle. At the end of this aisle was an altar with a roughly carved statue sitting on a plinth above it. My feet moved of their own accord, drawn to the statue. It depicted a strange, devilish-looking god, who seemed to be capering about and had one hand most definitely clasped to his groin area.
“Who the fuck is this now?” I asked the room.
“That, Justin, you naughty boy, is none other than my father!”
I almost cricked my neck, so sharply did I turn. Madame Xel was sitting, quite nonchalantly, in a pew near the far wall of the chapel. Had she always been there? Had I been so distracted that I hadn’t even noticed her? Who could say.
“Your father?” I asked.
Madame Xel stretched in that languorous way of hers, that was at on
ce both elegant and dirty.
“That’s right,” she said, cocking her head and gazing at the rough-hewn statue.
“And what did he do to merit a statue in a nunnery?” I asked.
“Well, back in the Infernal Realms—the place from whence I come, as we used to say back in the old days—this god here,” and she pointed at her father, “was actually just a very powerful mage who discovered he could draw power from the prayers that other mages sent his way.”
Madame Xel patted her father fondly on the head. “Yes, my father was a cunning old devil. If he had been around these days, in this place and at this time, he would have been one of the most successful advertising agents in the world. He knew just how to manipulate and trick and con others into praying to him, and gaining more power through it.”
“Is he still in the Infernal Realms?” I asked.
Madame Xel’s usually cocky and sunny face clouded over momentarily. “Alas, no,” she said. “He is, in actual fact, the reason that I left. You see, my father’s ambition was without limit and, eventually, it eclipsed his abilities.”
“People found out that he was full of shit, you mean?” I said—as tactfully as I could, of course.
“Yes, you could say that. In fact, that would be precisely the way I would describe it. He was declared a charlatan and a fraud, which is what he was. There was a trial. A public flogging and some other quite nasty practices. After that, all his gullible sheep felt a lot better about having had the wool pulled down over their eyes. Still, in retrospect, it was a fortuitous time for all that unpleasantness to come to light. A girl has to spread her wings eventually,” and Madame Xel spread and shook out her leathery wings before folding them again. “And I had just celebrated my hundredth birthday. It was high time for me to start carving my own path and get out of home.”
This nugget of information landed on me with all the lack of warning of an air-conditioning unit falling out of a window onto a passerby.
“You’re over one-hundred years old?” I asked in dazed astonishment, running my eyes up her stockinged legs, to the toned ass that was only just hidden under that mini skirt of hers.
“Yes, but don’t tell me I look it, Justin, please,” Madame Xel pouted.
“You don’t look a day over twenty-five,” I said weakly. “What’s your secret?”
“Never resisting temptation,” Madame Xel said, her purple eyes gleaming as she locked gazes with me.
I could feel a stirring in my crotch as my libido uncoiled at the sight of this insanely hot woman who had just told me that she was older than Clint Eastwood. Somehow, the fact that she was older than my grandparents would have been, acted as a turn on more than I would have thought.
I took a step toward her and cocked an eye at the statue of her father.
“You know what might be a nice way to honor your father’s legacy of being a devious fucker?” I said.
“Do go on,” Madame Xel said, closing the space between us and putting her arms over my shoulders.
“Have a little fun behind this altar,” I said.
“Hop on the good foot and do the bad thing in this place of worship, you mean?” Madame Xel hissed. Her tongue darted out and licked my lips.
“That’s right,” I said.
“Hmm, well, I happen to know that the next service is going to start very soon. Now, in actual fact!” Madame Xel held up her finger and, when we both stopped talking, I heard the scuff of many slippered feet heading our way.
I grabbed Madame Xel by the hand and pulled her behind the table-high altar. “We better get started then,” I said.
“You are a devil, aren’t you?” Madame Xel hissed in my ear. “I knew there was a reason I felt such an affinity for you.”
There was not much room to maneuver behind that altar. As luck would have it though, Madame Xel’s tiny skirt negated any reason to remove clothes on her part. As the nuns filed into the room, their shuffling disguised the soft clinking and scraping of my belt buckle coming undone in Madame Xel’s hands. While the succubus was undertaking this delicate operation, I slipped my hand down between her velvety thighs and moved it upward toward the heat that I could feel emanating from her crotch.
Madame Xel hissed softly and sank her teeth gently into my shoulder, just hard enough to muffle her groan of pleasure as I began massaging the front of her soaking wet panties. She was grinding her pelvis into my hand, even as she was freeing my prick from my loosened pants and beginning to rub it to full hardness.
“You really know what you’re doing,” I whispered into her ear as my agent and potion tutor squeezed and tugged at my cock, until I was so hard I could have knocked the altar over with my dick.
“The benefits of fucking an older woman, Mr. Mauler,” she moaned in my ear.
As we fiddled with each other, and I pulled the triangle of her panties aside and began fingering her wet and eager sex, the nuns started their chanting. It began softly, just a murmur at first, and mirrored the slow and steady erotic build up that was happening behind the altar.
With some difficulty, Madame Xel hooked my pants with her high-heeled foot and dragged them down until they were around my ankles. Then she pulled up her own skirt and quietly rolled onto her side, so that her bare ass was pressed up against my crotch. She spat into her hand and reached between her legs, found my cock ready and waiting for her, and guided me into her warm slot.
It took all my self-control not to ram into her as hard as I could, so keen was I to fill her up. Slowly, I eased into her until my balls were pressed against her clit. Then, with equally intense and excruciatingly delightful slowness, I pulled out again. I could just see the side of Madame Xel’s face from my position behind her. Her eyes were closed and her teeth bared in a snarl of hunger and ecstasy.
“Match the chanting,” she whispered as the nuns’ dirge got slightly louder and a touch faster.
I knew what she meant, so I began fucking her in time to the monotonous chanting prayer. The soundtrack to our sex was being uttered by about three dozen nuns not ten yards from us. As they picked up their pace, so did I, thrusting harder and quicker into Madame Xel as her vagina contracted and released around my shaft.
The fact that we had to keep so quiet, and fuck as carefully as we could, only added to the heat and amatory of the situation. I could hear the soft squelch of Madame Xel’s box as I pressed into her, could feel the hardness of her nipples through her top as I squeezed her beautiful, firm tits.
The chanting grew steadily louder and louder, quicker and quicker. I could feel Madame Xel’s stomach muscles clenching and unclenching. Could feel her juices running down her thighs.
At the pinnacle of the prayer chant, as the whole company of nuns got to their feet with a rustle of cloth and scrape of pews, the two of us came together in complete silence. Not making a sound as we climaxed behind that altar, with the statue of Madame Xel’s father looking down at the congregation of nuns, was one of the toughest trials of my sexual career. It was the equivalent of trying to keep your eyes open while you sneeze. Both our bodies went rigid. It was only after the pink mist of intense climax had faded from my head that I realized that Madame Xel had pulled my cock out of her at the last moment and I had spurted my load all over the altar cloth.
Then I heard a female voice say, from the other side of the altar, “Is that—is that a foot?”
I decided to take the initiative. It was clear that we were caught out. There would be no good done by staying put or playing dead. I pulled my pants up and bounded to my feet in one smooth motion.
“Ladies!” I said. “Do excuse us for sneaking in, but Madame Xel here insisted that we listen to your liturgy.” I pulled Madame Xel to her feet. She was looking quite unruffled, as if she had sex behind altars most days. Her skirt was back in order, and she was fiddling innocently with one of her silver horns.
“Yes,” she said, “and, as usual, it was a true delight, ladies.” She grasped me by the hand. “Now, we must be off. Than
k you again, sisters! It really was a most invigorating singalong.”
Madame Xel and I hurried up the corridor before any nuns could ask any awkward questions. I wasn’t too worried about offending anyone though. If the way the novices had been acting earlier was anything to go by, this was one nunnery that wouldn’t send you to confession for impure thoughts.
Still, you probably don’t want to be about when they find that soiled altar cloth, I thought, and grinned to myself.
Madame Xel led me back to the hall where Sister Moll had introduced us to the bevy of frisky nuns. Sister Moll was still there, sitting and reading a copy of Women’s War Mage Monthly, the same magazine that wanted me to pose nude for them.
“Ah, Justin,” the older nun said, getting to her feet. “My messengers tell me that your friends have done their charitable deeds and are on their way. They will be five minutes or so.”
Madame Xel put a hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek.
“I shall see you at the Academy, Mr. Mauler,” she said. “I must be pushing along now though.” She flashed me that smile of hers, which was the facial equivalent of a 3a.m text message saying, ‘Come Over’—full of poorly disguised promise and innuendo.
Sister Moll did not miss it. She smiled knowingly and said, “Truly, there is no rest for the wicked.”
Madame Xel winked at the nun like they were old friends. “Sister Moll knows me too well,” she said as she strutted away. “Some days I simply ache from lack of rest.”
Then she was gone, the door closing with a snap behind her.
I consulted my spell book while I waited for the boys to roll into the hall. I had never slept with Madame Xel before and realized that I might have garnered a new spell from our coupling. I was a Creation Mage after all.
When I found the new spell, my eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch.
COMPULSION (ANGER)
A curse that increases a subject’s anger into a murderous rage.
It was surprising. A different spell than the sort I was used to gaining, that was for sure. More a psychological weapon than a traditional spell. Something that played off someone’s existing emotions. I guessed that was Infernal Magic for you though; it came with a few ethical questions attached.