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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Men's · #2330444
298 words - Sister Poena is Caught Between Piety and Impropriety

In a candlelit chapel, draped in crimson velvet and secrets, Sister Poena wrestles with her faith and darkest desires. Her skin glistens in the candlelight and radiates an ebony fragrance that meanders through the dusty pews.

Beside her, the chalice sits cool and smooth, contrasting the passions burning within her. She trembles as she lifts the chalice to meet her lips, and purrs as the dark and viscous liquid slides down her throat.

Haunted by a lascivious craving, Sister Poena pursues release from the shackles of her pious facade. Once a sanctuary, the church has become a prison, trapping her in relapsing cycles of guilt and wickedness. In the grips of a ravenous yearning, her gaze wanders through the congregation, pursuing a willing parishioner to worship at her dark succulent altar.

She discerns the ripest of forbidden fruit, eager for harvest. Striding up to the young Adonis with hips swinging like church bells, she prevaricates, "Well, it's my day off, after all." Sister Poena's heart pounds insistently as she approaches the acolyte. His innocence shines in stark relief to her depravity, a challenge she couldn't resist. With a sly smile, she whispers, "We have a secluded garden, where sunlight rarely intrudes, and the darkest longings take flower."

Widening, the boy's eyes teemed with animal need and fear. Ingredients that elicit shivers and beckon warmth that won't be ignored. She has him. As they steal away, the chapel's din fades and only the distant tolling of bells remain.

Within their sheltered garden, they surrender to their depravity from midnight to dawn. At daybreak, their transgressions are laid bare, and the duo arises with faces emblazoned with equal measures of guilt and ecstasy. Sister Poena, the fallen angel, had found salvation that night in that abyss of sin.



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