by Primula Bond
‘Let me, now,’ whispered Natalia, and much more easily she pulled my shirt off, quickly unhooked ny bra, and caught my bigger breasts as they fell into her hands. We knelt in front of each other on the bed, feeling each other’s breasts, our breath coming in uneven gasps of longing.
Natalia’s fine, delicate features blurred and fused as she came closer and her fingers stroked my bare breasts, my back, my legs under the tight pencil skirt, sending ripples of pleasure through me. Somehow the balance of power had shifted, but I didn’t give a damn. I closed my eyes, letting my head droop backwards as the soft caresses lulled me. I realised how tired I was. Then Natalia’s mouth bumped up against mine. We both waited, mouths just touching. My breath stopped totally. I couldn’t move away. My lips softened and parted. Natalia rubbed her mouth harder against mine. I slid my hands under the nun’s heavy skirt, felt the white skin on top of those ugly black stockings, the voluminous cotton bloomers still there, and felt a violent kick of desire inside me.
As Natalia’s tongue flicked inside my mouth I pushed her down again, sucking her tongue in between my teeth, so that our faces moulded together and our bare breasts and hard nipples were rubbing against each other, our bodies tangling together.
This would be enough, I thought. This kissing. Perhaps if this is all, we won’t have sinned. Natalia can go back inside the convent, and I’ll go back to London, and no one will ever know. But it was like setting a taper to a candle as we feasted on each other. We couldn’t stop this. No way.
And those violent urges kept on coming. This must be how men feel, I reckoned, when they want to fuck. I lifted Natalia’s skirt up and there were the voluminous white cotton bloomers. I stroked my hand over them, over the mound of Natalia’s pussy. Natalia squealed, and smacked at my hand, but I didn’t care. I stopped kissing her and unlaced the bloomers at the waist and pulled them down over Natalia’s curved hips, running my fingers over the ghostly white cold skin pulled taut over her bones and flat stomach. I wanted to see her pussy, but I didn’t know what to do next. I was ridiculously overcome with shyness. We both were. Natalia started to cross her legs, tried to pull my hand away, but the touch triggered the madness all over again. I ripped the bloomers right off and there it was, the awesome blonde triangle of hair, untouched, untrimmed, presumably Carlo liked it that way and so, waxed and plucked as I was, did I.
A manic giggle bubbled in my throat as momentarily I imagined Carlo, maybe his mother too, hell, the other nuns, Father Luca, the gardener, Hazel, the hotel barman, let them all come, bend nearer to see more closely as I pushed my face into Natalia’s blonde pubic curls, damp with excitement, edged my nose in between the hidden lips, breathed in the unmistakable sharp tang of aroused female. My own pussy twitched frantically.
Natalia took hold of my head and tugged me away, back up for another kiss. I moved my face back over her stomach, over the rough folds of skirt still pushed up round her waist, back up to her naked breasts, closed my eyes as I rubbed my lips against the hard nipples, and then back to Natalia’s mouth, her lovely, warm, wet, open mouth, and kissed her again, pushed my tongue inside because that really felt the best.
As I kissed her, I rubbed myself against her leg. I couldn’t help it. My body was tight, coils of desire unwinding with all the sensations, and I couldn’t help shoving my hand into the warm space between her milky-white thighs.
Up in the tower the bell tolled.
‘Shit. My coda!’ Natalia growled, tossing her head from side to side. ‘They’re summoning me. Oh, lick me, Jenni! Lick my sex. Bring me back to life!’
‘Calm down, Sister! I’ll do better than that. I’ll lick you till you’re begging me to stop!’
I giggled softly, but anxiety pricked at me as the bell echoed round the neighbouring buildings. Natalia arched her back defiantly and as the wretched coda beat through the air she grabbed my face and pushed me roughly so that I slid back down her stomach, and she opened her legs. I saw the juicy treat opening stickily, curls of hair clinging to keep it concealed, the vivid red promise as her sex lips pulled apart, and I grabbed hold of her red-striped bottom and lifted it to my face like a prize and ran my tongue up the dark-pink crack to lick up that moisture. A ripple of delicious shock ran through me to smell the other woman’s female scent, startling my senses with the untried, sweet-salt flavour.
Natalia’s sex felt like silk against my face. I was getting drunk on the smell of her. I let my tongue lead me again, sliding it over the slit, feeling Natalia tense up and shiver as I swept my tongue once, twice up over the furls of her sex, feeling the bump of the little clit revealing itself in there. I found myself lapping at Natalia like a cat at her kitten, making the girl twitch and groan with every stroke.
‘Please, Jenni. I’m creaming myself here. Lick me, please.’ Natalia was moaning and offering herself desperately.
Once more the bell rang.
As my tongue parted the nun’s soft lips, probed deeper, past the tender frills inside, it was being sucked into her tight little hole. It was all sweet sweat and honey in there. My fingers hooked into Natalia’s buttocks and slithered into the warm crack between her butt cheeks, and my own cunt clenched with mad excitement as I burrowed inside her and Natalia writhed and lifted beneath me, and then my tongue touched the little bump of her clit, and Natalia moaned like a porn star.
Triumph surged through me, I was on it now, and I sucked harder, opening up the lips like petals, and Natalia reared upwards and slammed and thumped against the bed and as she shuddered with her climax I fingered myself quickly and roughly, still licking out my beautiful Natalia, and my cunt gripped tightly as I came, too, then fell away, exhausted.
The bell echoed again.
‘Oh, I want to stay here,’ I murmured. ‘I think I’ve heard that call. That voice from on high. I know it means no sex. At least not with men, but who cares when I feel horny all the time?’
There was no answer.
I opened my eyes. Natalia was standing by the bed. She was dressed, but something was odd about her appearance.
‘I’m going outside, cara, but I need you to stay here.’ Her voice was harsh in the silence. Then I realised what was odd. She was wearing the black habit I’d brought in to the convent. Not her own grey one.
‘Don’t fucking cara me! What are you playing at, you little –’ I scrambled to my knees on the bed, tried to grab at my clothes, but she put her hand up in the same stern way Mother Superior had.
‘I mean, I want you to swap places with me. Just for a night.’
‘So all that sweetness. That sex –’ I gaped at her. ‘You’ve been using me!’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not like that. I wanted to try it. You made it irresistible. And I meant everything I said. But I need to see Carlo one last time, Jennifer. You said you’d help me. So you stay in here, do my job in the winery, they won’t know the difference. Even Sister Antonia says we look alike.’
‘Who?’
‘She has red hair and freckles. The one who was holding you back last night. She remarked on it when we were all back in our cells.’ She came and sat down stiffly in her unaccustomed clothing. I twitched sulkily away. ‘Listen. I’ll finish with him, and then I’ll come back to you.’
‘You don’t want me. You did all that, just to take advantage.’ I slumped on the bed. ‘I’m such a bloody fool.’
Natalia stood up. ‘By the way, I did fake it, you know.’
Now the tears were hot in my eyes. She leant over me and kissed me in an incredibly wanton, lustful rush, pushing her tongue into my mouth, pulling at my hair. I pushed her off me.
‘What did you just say?’
‘My ankle. Yesterday.’ She laughed softly, and opened the door. ‘It didn’t hurt that much. I just wanted you to stay around a little longer!’
Sister Perpetua plucked a couple of swollen grapes out of their leafy hiding place. Natalia had taken over the convent’s wilting, failing mini vineyard last summer when she joined, and afte
r her tender care the vines were already into their second harvest. The bottles from the first were lined up in glinting rows in the cellar, but the first thing my – sorry, Sister Perpetua’s – marketing mind noticed when I reported for duty that morning was the atrocious labelling. Someone, Natalia presumably, had merely scrawled La Religieuse on luggage tags and strung these round the necks.
The grapes were perfect, though. So ripe in the palm of my hand. God, I was thirsty. The greenhouse was like an oven. And I was hungry, too. Breakfast was a dry roll before daybreak, and we were not allowed to eat again until noon. I could just take one tiny bite before lugging this last basket over to the wine press. My teeth would pierce the translucent skin, biting the red fruity flesh. The juice spurting on to my tongue, the cool, naughty liquid trickling down my throat. No one would ever know …
Except I would know. I was a nun, even if only temporarily, and I had to obey the rules. I seemed to be growing a conscience like some kind of tumour, without even realising it. How Hazel would laugh, if she read my mind. If she could see me now. But how could she? How indeed could she even know where I was, because I’d stupidly left my bag, my iPad and my phone in Caffe Florian.
But weirdly, I didn’t care. Someone would pick them up and take them to the hotel. Or steal them. Whatever. In a couple of days the convent had slowly wound itself around me like swaddling. Even outside sounds here were muffled behind the high wall, so you could be anywhere in the world. The Navajo desert. Ealing Common. The world had no meaning for me now.
Natalia had instructed me to stick to the name Sister Perpetua if I was challenged, but so far they hadn’t sussed out the great swap, or noticed Natalia’s absence. Then again as no one was allowed to speak, no one had said a word. Not at prayers, not at meals. I had steered well clear of Mother Marta and her sidekicks, but I was sure that Freckles – the scary one who had held me back the other night when Natalia was being flogged – suspected something. Wherever I looked, walked, sat, knelt, she was somewhere near. Watching me. Was it the Rouge Noir, perhaps, showing when I was telling my rosary beads? With no access to nail-varnish remover, by such little details I could yet be discovered and brought to justice if I wasn’t very careful.
‘Tempting to eat what you can get your hands on when you’re out here, far away from prying eyes, isn’t it? Just like the Garden of Eden.’
Oh God, it was her. Freckles. Or rather, if I wanted to show due respect and survive this challenge, Sister Antonia. A mindreader as well as second-in-command dominatrix. Swinging her rounded Irish body nimbly through the moist greenery. In my starving state she looked as if she was floating.
I sat very still, my face frozen in what I hoped was a suitably transported expression, hoping she’d think I was in some kind of holy ecstasy. Praying she wouldn’t haul me before Mother Marta and have me punished. Flogged. Whipped. And worst of all, thrown out into the cold to explain myself to Hazel, Signora Martelli …
I groaned inwardly and waited for the blow. But she simply squatted down on the other side of a tray of seedlings, picked up a wine bottle from a stack of crates, and twisted the cork out with her teeth like a navvy.
I glanced at the bell tower. Five minutes before the next silent meal. Christ, how quickly I’d learned to measure out my day in bells, prayers and scraps of food.
‘Technically you can converse if you’re working,’ she continued briskly. ‘But I could still have you brought before Mother Superior and royally castigated.’ Sister Antonia took a deep swig from the bottle, and handed it to me. ‘In fact we constantly patrol the grounds and drag our Sisters before her to be whipped, particularly the new ones, for the slightest of misdemeanours, whether or not they deserve it. And do you know what? They end up thanking us.’
Her sleeve brushed mine, and I actually blushed. Even touching garments was forbidden. Which made every glance, every accidental contact, doubly tantalising. I obediently swallowed the wine, and its potency went straight to my head.
‘We all know you’re an impostor, Sister Perpetua. Well, not all of us. I admit I’ve kept it from Her Highness, and from Father Luca. But we could all do with a newcomer, a new playmate, so I don’t want to ruin the surprise just yet. I’m saving the big reveal for when Sister Benedicta comes home.’
My throat seemed to have taken the vow of silence.
‘Cat got your tongue? Or God got it, perhaps? Let’s see if we can get you to speak.’ Sister Antonia ran her finger over my top lip. ‘Smell that!’
I sniffed her finger, knowing I shouldn’t. The sharp, sweet tang on her skin was instantly familiar.
‘That’s my pussy juice. From this morning.’
‘Sister, my God!’ I gasped. ‘What have you been doing?’
‘Silly question!’ She slapped at my hand. ‘Why, pleasuring myself, of course! You don’t think we go through a lifetime of celibacy without at least masturbating? And the special treat was those nice chunky candles our new Sister kindly brought in the other day. You know what they’re for, don’t you?’
I shrugged. ‘Lighting the chapel?’
Freckles leaned forward and slid her hand up under the irritating white linen veil flapping round my shoulders to touch the soft skin on my neck. I shivered.
‘Hmm. Been a long time since you had a man, has it, Sister Perpetua? If you respond that quickly to one little touch, how do you think you’ll feel back in the big bad world, when you have a real live cock ramming up you? Two gorgeous men fucking you maybe, front and back, both at the same time?’ She laughed softly, still stroking my neck, and took another swig from the bottle. ‘That was my fantasy this morning, anyway. Just me, and my big fat candle. I mean my two big fat candles.’
The words buzzed like bees against my covered ears. My assumed innocence had taken a stronger hold than I’d thought. None of that would particularly have shocked me a week ago. I’d have been reading about it in some chat magazine riding the tube to work with barely a raised eyebrow. But now electrifying sensations shot through me from the place where Sister Antonia was still touching my neck as if I’d never been touched before. Down to my poor neglected pussy, hidden far away under my apron, under my dress, under my serge petticoat, under the scratchy bloomers where I could feel it responding. Naked, warm, loosening. She was gorgeous, actually, now I looked at her more closely. Brazen and full on, physically pretty tough, but yes, that freckly skin like butterscotch, the full lips and the wicked glint in her copper-coloured eyes could easily bring a grown man to his knees. I was already so into my part as quiet little Sister Perpetua, and she was so overbearing, so confident in these strange surroundings.
‘Shall I tell you what else you’re missing, Sister? All those earthly delights you’ve left behind? The ones that little tart Sister Benedicta is tasting right this minute? That she’ll never want to give up? You know she’ll never come back, don’t you? Already she’s stayed out longer than she promised. You’re in here for ever.’ She tilted her head in typical nun-like fashion and her wide mouth spread in a dirty grin. ‘Well, hush my mouth. Lucky old us.’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The wine was making me feel so mellow, so relaxed, that the thought of being in here, staying in here, was not only attractive, it was becoming essential. My final lifestyle choice.
‘Don’t you ever stop talking?’
We both glanced up at the clock. One minute to go.
‘Depends how badly I want to be punished.’ Sister Antonia chuckled, licking wine off her lower lip. ‘Just enjoy teasing myself, teasing you, teasing anyone who’ll listen. Think of what Sister Benedicta’s lover is doing to her now. Kissing, licking, his cock going hard when she strokes it. The feel of it sliding in, opening you up, pushing inside you.’
I shuddered. ‘Why are you in here, for God’s sake, if all you want is a good fuck?’
And then the bell started to ring from the tower. We both glanced up to watch it swinging heavily from its wooden frame.
‘Oh, I have everything
I need. Right here.’ Freckles jumped up, looked down at me. ‘See you later, Sister. I’ll leave you to your precious vines.’
We smiled at each other, and again there was that fluttering of unease from my newly sprouted conscience. If I was attracted to Sister Antonia, that was deceiving my Natalia. But then again, who the hell was Natalia anyway? Certainly not mine. I owed her nothing, and she owed me everything. So if Freckles, another sexy, beautiful woman, was here for the taking, what, or who, was stopping me?
Sister Antonia even moved differently as she headed back out into the garden. Not the ghostly glide they all normally adopted, but a more obstinate stride. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. The way she moved showed her body, her hips, the secret curve of her breasts. Her habit even dipped into the divide between her legs as she walked. It was as if I could see right through her clothes to those long legs. Did she have a red bush, to go with that colouring?
The last basket of grapes was heavy, but I kept silent as I lifted, thinking naughty thoughts about Sister Antonia’s flame-coloured pussy, her strong fingers parting the lips to let me see the red slash inside …
I didn’t even grunt as I carried the basket towards the cool press ready to be turned into intoxicating wine. Someone was rolling barrels about in the wine house while the augur fed the grapes into the crusher, but no one else was visible. They would all be inside, scrubbing the floors or preparing lunch. Meanwhile I was far better off out here. Starving, half-cut, and fantasising about another woman!
I staggered across the dusty garden with the basket, then stopped. One of my stockings had come loose, was rolling down my leg and irritating me, the black wool scratching my skin, which was raw and sensitive as if I’d been burned. Everything about this place put me on high alert. I pointed my toe like a ballerina, lifted my skirt and reached under it to yank up the stocking.