Sister Barb

by SmilingSatyr

story tags: romance, dubcon, roleplaying, nun, priest, blasphemy,
straight, aftercare

https://www.literotica.com/s/sister-barb


https://www.literotica.com/s/sister-barb

A guilty, tormented woman faces her desires

Page 1 of 1 page(s) (19853 characters)

As Sister Barbera stared up at the cross on the wall, she had the
distinct feeling it stared back at her. Judging her. Of course, that's
what the cross was for, right? A reminder of His love and judgment at
all times. Most of the time, she took great comfort in her faith, a
warmth that spread throughout her body and kept her content and
balanced. Today, guilt choked her.

How could it not, knowing He saw into her traitorous heart and mind and
saw how ugly she was on the inside. How impure. Of course He loved her
and all his children, but maybe Barb didn't deserve that love. Not with
the way her thoughts and body betrayed her every night. Maybe the rest
of the convent didn't know about her inclinations, but the one person
Barb couldn't hide from was herself.

It was only a matter of time before others found out. Already Barb
could imagine the whispers, the pointing, the judgment. Kneeling in the
Bishop's dark study, she waited for his return. Chances were at least
someone knew, and turned her in. Why else would he have summoned her at
this hour? Barb bowed her head and prayed ever harder, hoping He would
hear and forgive her.

The door creaked open. Barb lifted her head and flinched. The Bishop
stood in the doorway, light from the hallway casting his features in
shadow. He was a large, heavyset, powerfully built man with a beard and
dark, piercing eyes. Even being unable to see those eyes in the gloom,
a shudder passed through Barb as he loomed.

"Sister Barbera," he said, voice surprisingly quiet. Like a whisper she
couldn't ignore if she tried.

"Your excellency," she said, bowing her head in submission. Even if he
didn't dwarf her in size, it was impossible not to feel small and
helpless in his presence.

"I've heard the most disturbing rumors about you of late," he said,
closing the door behind him. He didn't turn on the light, leaving the
room in a pall of darkness, the only light coming in from the moon
shining through the window. "You aren't who you appear to be, are you?"

Barb shuddered. "I don't know what you mean, your excellency," she
said, grateful her voice didn't crack or waver. She forced herself to
relax, to will the tension out of her body. It didn't work.

The Bishop chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Liar."

One word, and it made her flinch as if he'd struck her. Barb lowered
her head, trembling.

"You know exactly what I mean, Sister Barbera. Lying is a sin, and
lying to me is as bad as lying to God Himself."

"Yes sir," she said, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry sir. I don't...I don't
know what to say."

"Say? You aren't here to say anything, Sister. I'm doing the talking
here. Your job is to listen and receive judgment. Is that understood?"

Words failed her. Barb swallowed again, but the lump refused to go
away. She gave the tiniest of nods.

"I asked you a question," he said, iron entering his soft voice. "Is.
That. Understood?"

"Yes sir," she whimpered, unable to stop herself from shaking. "I'm
sorry your excellency, I understand."

"Good." He stepped forward slowly, each step a heavy fall on the wood
that seemed to thunder to her. Barb made herself small, as if she could
hide from him. As if she could hide from God's watchful eyes on earth.

He stopped just inches away from her, uncomfortably close but she
didn't dare lean away from him. "On your feet, Sister. Let's have a
good look at you."

Barb stood on unsteady legs. She stared straight forward, not sure if
she was meant to look directly at him or not. She settled for staring
at the cross on the wall, guilt and fear spiraling through her and
sending a shiver down her spine.

The Bishop breathed in deeply. Slowly, he circled around her, head
tilted to follow and examine her from every angle. Each step was slow,
methodical, and heavy. Barb would've had to look up to meet his gaze,
if she even dared to. She didn't. Instead, she wrung her hands
together, suddenly hating how rough and scratchy her body felt
underneath her habit.

"Do you know what the worst sin is, Sister Barbera?" he asked.

"I don't, your excellency," she whispered.

"Pride. Pride is the worst sin, and you reek of it."

It was only through fear paralyzing her that she didn't cringe at his
words. Barb remained still, save for one full body shudder. She
swallowed hard and dared to ask, "What pride do you mean, your
excellency?"

He stopped behind her. One heavy step forward and his belly pressed up
against her back. Two large hands came down on her shoulders, grip firm
but not crushing. He squeezed. "The pride of thinking you would not be
spotted doing what you did. That others wouldn't catch on to why you
shirk your chores. We've seen you, Sister Barbera. Your shame is the
talk of the entire church."

"Your excellency, I --" Barb gasped as one large hand circled around
her throat and squeezed. Just hard enough to silence her, poised to
crush her if he wished. She trembled against him, painfully aware of
just how easily he could hurt her and how her traitorous body reacted
to him.

"DO NOT DENY IT!" He barked in her ear. "Sister Mary saw you touching
yourself. She saw you with your habit pulled up and your fingers deep
inside of yourself, lost in your lust. Utterly heedless of the world
around you, consumed by your own carnal desires. Not just the once, but
time and again. Any time you think you can get away with it. Do you
deny it, Sister?"

Tears fell from Barb's eyes. She shook her head, a tiny movement he
allowed her. She tried to speak but his hand squeezed and he pulled her
against him. She felt rather than heard the rumble in his chest.

"So you admit it, then. You're a filthy creature, a slave to your base
nature. For this alone we could pity you. But you are supposed to be
better than that, Sister. You're supposed to dedicate yourself to
Christ. But you haven't been. You've been sharing yourself with the
local friars, haven't you?"

Fear gripped her. With her terrible shame named and brought to light,
she might as well have been naked. She tried to pull away but the
Bishop held on tight. A low, deep chuckle made her blood run cold.

"That's the real issue, Sister Barbera. We all have needs. We all touch
ourselves and require forgiveness for our weakness. But not all of us
go out and break our vows. Not all of us fornicate. You sister, are a
slut."

Barb's eyes closed. Tears poured down her face. This was it. There was
no going back. She all but slumped in his grasp, but he held her up
with one hand around her throat and another arm snaked around her
middle. "I'm sorry..." she managed to whisper.

"Sorry?" The Bishop scoffed. "You can't help what you are. You can't
help that you were never good enough for these vows, and you're likely
not good enough for salvation. Do you think there's forgiveness for
creatures like you? You don't want forgiveness. Do you?"

His left hand moved up her habit, pressing the scratchy cotton into her
bare skin. He cupped her breast and squeezed it through her clothing.
"You want to be touched. You'd give up salvation for this, wouldn't you
Sister Slut?"

Barb cried then, a sob escaping her. She wriggled and writhed but she
couldn't get away, and part of her didn't want to. The Bishop was a
stern man, and his touch brought out the worst in her. In that dim,
lonely office, standing before the cross, all Barb could focus on was
his hand roughly kneading her, showing her just how filthy she really
was and burning her up inside.

"I'm...I'm sorry your excellency," Barb whimpered. "Please, I won't do
it again."

"LIAR!" He snarled. He released her throat and cupped her other breast,
keeping her pinned against him as he moved them over to the desk. "Look
into His eyes and say you won't do it again, Sister Barbera. Tell Him
you're not a needy, filthy slut. Or tell Him the truth."

The nun raised her gaze up to look at the mournful face of the savior,
hanging from his cross. Tears streamed down her face, no longer
restrained. The Bishop's hands worked her chest over, squeezing and
pinching before he captured her nipples between his fingers and thumbs
and rolled them around. Her thoughts failed her as her body came alive.
Sister Barb opened her mouth to plead for forgiveness, but all that
came out was a moan.

The Bishop laughed, a deep, booming, mocking sound. Her face burned
with shame and arousal. "Listen to you. A poor, mewling little thing,
unable to handle how her body reacts when touched. The rest of us can
handle ourselves and not shame ourselves in front of God. You're the
only nun who can't hold herself back. The only nun who should be
selling herself in the town square!"

She fought against him trying to pull away once more but he pinched her
nipples sharply and her legs buckled. Then his hands came off her and
she thought she'd be able to stop this, maybe run away and never show
her face again. Then his foot kicked hers to the side, spreading her
legs. The Bishop shoved her down on the desk, grabbing the top of her
whimple and forcing her to look at the cross.

"Tell Him the truth!" he demanded. His grip on her whimple tightened,
hair caught up in his ironclad grasp.

"I'm...I'm a slut," she said, sobbing openly.

"Finally," the Bishop growled. "It's a start. Your sins may yet be
forgiven. But first..." With his other hand he reached down and pulled
the back of her habit up. Pressed up against the desk, there was
nothing Barb could do to stop him from revealing her bare ass.

"And what have we here? Where are your undergarments, Sister? You going
for easy access for anyone who asks?" His hand dipped between her legs,
cupping her shamefully wet cunt. He chuckled darkly. "You like this,
don't you? You're a slut through and through. There's only one thing to
do with women like you."

"Please your excellency, I'm sorry, I'll be better," Sister Barb said.
She closed her eyes, heart hammering in her chest. The room was cool
and her body radiated heat. She hated how much she responded to this.
She hated herself for not being good enough. She hated how much she
loved every second of it.

The Bishop shoved her face against the desk. "It's too late for that
now, Sister."

The next thing she heard was the rustling of his belt and pants. Barb's
entire body shuddered as she realized what was coming. The Bishop kept
her pressed against the desk with his hand against her back, but a
second later he grunted and she felt a hot, hard head of a cock press
up into her slick lips. He slid against her, grinding his length up
against her sex, a little taste of what he had to give her.

"B-b-but what about your own salvation?" Barb stammered. "Don't damn
yourself because of me, your excellency!" No one should've been dragged
down by her unnatural hungers.

The Bishop chuckled, rocking his body back and forth. The head of his
cock brushed up against her most sensitive spot and she squeaked. "I'm
already forgiven," he purred, grasping himself by the base of his shaft
and positioning himself at her entrance. "No one on earth or in heaven
could blame me for succumbing to the temptation of a bride of Satan."

Barb opened her mouth to protest her innocence, but he pushed himself
in and all words left her. The Bishop was a large, powerful man and he
pushed into her with ease, hard cock stretching her wide and filling
her up, stoking that growing heat in her belly. She relished the
feeling of being full, that sensation of being almost complete.

"Fuck, you feel so good," the Bishop groaned before he remembered
himself. "You feel like a she-devil to me. Hot, wet, and willing. Tell
me you want it, slut."

She wanted it. God did she ever want it, but how could she admit it? So
Barb said nothing at first, just trembling as his cock throbbed inside
her. He stayed perfectly, frustratingly still. She couldn't escape him,
but she could move against him and she did just that. Barb thrust
backwards against him, a strangled whimper caught in her throat as her
body demanded more.

The first time she threw herself backwards, she let out a groan as he
sunk in all the way. The Bishop growled and rolled his hips forward,
grinding deeper into her. Barb bit her lip, stifling a cry. This was
wrong, but she needed more. The Bishop chuckled and pulled back. When
Barb tried to thrust backwards again he held her in place.

"Tell me you want it," he demanded. "Tell me and the Lord what a wanton
slut you are. Look up into His eyes and say it!" He grasped her by the
wimple again and jerked her head up.

The tears slowed to a stop. The cross hung on the wall in eternal
judgment. Barb knew then there was no escape, no denying what she was.
She closed her eyes and gathered up all her strength. "I'm a slut," she
whispered.

The Bishop drew himself back and slammed into her. Her world went white
and her entire body twitched. "Again," he demanded.

"I'm a slut," she said, just a little bit louder.

He did it again, harder this time. The pain made it all sweeter. Barb
deserved this. "AGAIN!"

"I'm a slut," she cried out. "I'm your slut!"

The bishop growled and released her head, only to press himself down
against her. He reached around her middle and bent over. His belly
pressed against her back, pinning her to the desk. His beard tickled
the back of her neck as he inhaled deeply. Barb shivered violently,
abandoning herself to the Bishop.

The next thing she knew, he rolled his hips forward, sliding himself in
and out of her. She couldn't move, couldn't push back, couldn't join
in. All Barb could do was breathe and try to stifle the moans as he
leisurely violated her voracious body. The Bishop didn't bother. Every
time he sank himself in home he grunted and his entire body shuddered
atop hers. Each thrust pushed her further into the table while jolts of
pleasure made her entire world jerk.

Slowly at first, almost lazily, he fucked the poor nun. His hot breath
on the back of her neck made her shudder. Barb managed to keep silent
until his teeth met the skin where her neck met her shoulder and bit
down. She cried out and struggled to fuck him back. That egged him on,
and he picked up the pace, his strokes getting longer and slower, each
time he hit home making Barb squeak until she couldn't take it any
longer and she moaned like a whore.

"You were made for this, Sister," the Bishop growled into her ear. "You
should be pitied and celebrated. The world has enough pious nuns. God
blessed you when he made you a natural slut!" He went harder until the
sounds of wet flesh slapping together made her burn with shame and
lust.

"No, please..." she whimpered, no longer fighting him.

"Yes," he growled, pulling out almost all of the way. Only the head of
his cock remained inside of her and she felt woefully empty, incomplete
without him. "You've said it yourself. Embrace yourself, Sister
Barbera. Be my slut. Be His slut. Say it and I'll make things even
better."

Barb quivered beneath him. There was no denying her Bishop anything, it
was pointless to try. "I'm a slut," she repeated weakly. "Please fuck
this slut, your excellency. Please --"

He did as she asked and drove himself into her so hard her words cut
off and she gasped for air. One hand wrapped around her middle slid
down between her legs, down to her most sensitive spot. With two
fingers he found her clit and gathered her wetness over it, rolling his
hand around in slow, tight circles. Barb shuddered and clenched around
him hard, making him groan again.

"Just like that, Sister," he moaned, pulling back. He started slow
again, relentless with his light touch on her clit. The warm, heavy
weight of his body on her and the way he filled her was right, more
right than it should've been. She should never have denied her nature.
This was where she was meant to be.

"More," she demanded, tension rising in her body. Like her entire soul
was a cord, tightening the more he overwhelmed her senses. "More
please, I beg you, more!"

"As you wish, my love," he said, sending chills up her spine. The
Bishop grunted and gave it to her, everything he had. His fingers sped
up to match his thrusts. Each feeling of him sinking home blurred into
the next as her entire body became a jumble of mixed senses and that
delicious tight tension, pulling on her.

"Fuck," Barb grunted, clenching around him violently. "Fuck, fuck fuck
fuck --"

Her words cut off into a strangled scream the Bishop covered with his
hand. She screamed into that hand repeatedly as her entire world went
white and the tension snapped. He buried himself in deep and crushed
her on his desk as her body twitched and spasmed and the world ended.

A few seconds, maybe half a minute later, the world came back in. Her
husband held very still, throbbing deliciously inside of her.
Cautiously, he pulled his hand away from her mouth. "Are you good,
Barb?"

She nodded weakly before slumping to the desk. She let out a
breathless, relieved laugh. Tears came to her again but she blinked
them away. "Yes. What about you, Frank?"

"Could be better," he joked, rolling his hips against hers and
groaning. "I need more," he said.

Barb nodded. All it took was a gentle push against him and he
retreated, pulling out of her. It left her feeling empty, hollow, and
wanting more again but her entire body was spent. She turned around on
shaky legs and sat on the desk, looking up at her wonderful husband. So
stern and commanding one minute, now nothing but concern and love in
his eyes.

"You deserve more," she whispered. She pulled her habit up and showed
off her well fucked cunt. Laying back down, she spread her legs. "Take
me, Frank. Any way you like."

Frank didn't need to be told twice. He grasped Barb's legs and threw
them over his shoulder. Lining himself up again, he waited for her to
nod before he pushed in gently. It was different now, sweeter and
softer though she knew how badly he wanted to go just go for it. He
wouldn't until he knew she was okay. There weren't enough words in the
world to describe how much she adored him.

Her husband leaned forward, bending her body in half and pressing her
against the desk once more. In this position it was less crushing but
more intense. Soon he was buried all the way inside her and his
forehead rested against hers. The eye contact made her burn, want to
look away, but she couldn't. Instead, Barb kissed him as her husband
slowly worked his way in and out of her.

It was different like this, less intense and more satisfying. Her
hunger sated, Barb just wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and
kissed him, gently pressing against him each time he sank all the way
in, holding there for a lingering second before he continued. Hard,
demanding sex was great, but this was divine. This was like a slice of
heaven, just for them. Her and her husband.

Soon Frank's eyes closed and his speed picked up. He grunted with each
thrust, breathing harder and harder until his careful control slipped
and he abandoned himself in her, thrusting away hard for a minute
before he buried himself deep and shuddered. She felt him twitch and
throb inside her, and then a flood of warmth. Barb kissed him and
whispered her love and affection into his ear.

Panting, Frank didn't pull out so much as pull her off the desk and to
the floor with him, slipping out of her somewhere along the way. She
collapsed into his lap, holding onto each other for support. He stroked
her hair, kissing the top of her head. She felt so loved, so safe, so
sated.

"Was that good?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "I didn't go too far,
did I?"

"No, no," she laughed breathlessly. "That was perfect. You were
perfect. That's exactly what I wanted. What I needed. Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you Barb. Even if you are weird,
kinky, and like to be fucked dressed as a nun."

"Shut up! You love it you perve."

Frank grinned and ran his thumb across her cheek. "You love it." And
she did.

Story Tags: romance; dubcon; roleplaying; nun; priest; blasphemy;
straight; aftercare

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