| Author: | Joan Russell | ISBN: | 1230000002712 |
| Publisher: | Joan Russell | Publication: | July 17, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Joan Russell |
| ISBN: | 1230000002712 |
| Publisher: | Joan Russell |
| Publication: | July 17, 2012 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
The Naughty Nun: In the Beginning. 3250 words. Sister Mary Immaculate feels sorry that Father Gordon must listen to such boring confessions. To brighten his day she confesses to impure thoughts. When pressed, she lives them out in vivid detail with surprising results in the confessional. Contains: Catholic erotica, multiple partner sex, masturbation, oral sex, anal penetration on the altar. All characters are 18 and above. Adult 18+
Sample:
Sister Mary Immaculate wasn’t at all certain that she hadn’t entered the novitiate for the simple expedient of changing her name. Born Marie Claire Murphy - after her mother’s favorite fashion magazine - she had discovered early in life that there was more to being a Murphy than met the eye. It wasn’t until a friend explained “Murphy’s Law” to her that she understood the phrase, “What’s in a name?” Everything in Marie Claire Murphy’s life that could go wrong did go wrong. To her great dismay everything continued to go wrong even after she entered the convent and changed her name.
Take Father Gordon, for example. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to meet her in the choir’s cloak room at all hours of the night so that she could perform community service for him. She rather enjoyed the community service. It was the things that went wrong during community service that upset her. Right from the beginning Murphy's Law went into effect.
Her community service with Father Gordon had started late one Thursday afternoon during confession. Father Gordon was new in the convent, one of two priests who saw to the needs of the sisters. She found him very attractive. He was tall and must once have been an athlete, although now - in what was probably his early 50s - his muscles had mostly turned to fat. He was blond and blue eyed with a parrot beak of a nose and tight, disciplined lips. He radiated a kind of power that declared him a leader in an unspoken way. In her other life Sister Mary Immaculate had been attracted to powerful older men, which had gotten her into all kinds of difficulty. She was very attracted to Father Gordon. She found herself saying hundreds of Our Fathers and Hail Marys in an effort to stop thinking about Father Gordon particularly in the way she thought about Father Gordon when her thoughts should be on pure things like God. She gave herself many more Hail Marys and Our Fathers than any priest would have given her, but it didn't seem to help.
Sister Mary Immaculate knew she wasn't supposed to notice how handsome Father Gordon was, but for some reason her eyes seemed to find him whenever he came into the room. She knew her breath shouldn't catch in her throat and her panties become moist whenever she saw him, but pray as she did, it didn't work. She wondered if she should confess to the attraction during her weekly confession. The idea made her nervous which she thought might be a good thing. So she entered the confessional with a feeling of great discomfort on that particular Thursday.
“Forgive me Father for I have sinned,” she had said, searching her mind for anything she could report that might be considered a transgression. She wasn't quite ready to talk about that burning attraction to Father Gordon which filled the few idle minutes she was allowed during the day and a few other minutes beside. Indeed so many minutes were filled with thinking about Father Gordon when she should have been thinking of something else that she thought she might have developed a penchant for multi tasking thought processes.
As she listened to the traditional response from the other side of the screen, it occurred to her that hearing the confessions of the convent must be extremely boring for the Fathers. A faint wish to confess something really interesting flashed through her mind. She spoke about sneaking an extra helping of cake at dinner, being three minutes late for choral practice and then she decided to take the plunge.
"And I have impure dreams," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper.
“Tell me about your dreams,” said the disembodied voice from the indistinct shadow. She jumped and felt her body grow hot from head to foot. She had suddenly recognized the voice on the other side of the screen. It was Father Gordon’s voice. He had a thin, reedy, nasal tenor that completely lacked the warm base vibrations that typified Father Ignatius or any of the other priests that took confession from time to time. It was actually his only unattractive quality. Indeed it was his great limiter. Father Gordon didn’t conduct the services unless Father Ignatius was sick because his voice sounded so much like fingernails on a blackboard. Much to his chagrin the congregation had requested that he refrain from conducting public functions. It was difficult for him because he loved being in the front of the church - loved to deliver the sermons, chant the liturgy and lead the prayers - but, since his chanting could empty a room in under a minute, the church had felt there were better ways to use his talents.
“I dreamed about having sex on the altar,” she replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
The Naughty Nun: In the Beginning. 3250 words. Sister Mary Immaculate feels sorry that Father Gordon must listen to such boring confessions. To brighten his day she confesses to impure thoughts. When pressed, she lives them out in vivid detail with surprising results in the confessional. Contains: Catholic erotica, multiple partner sex, masturbation, oral sex, anal penetration on the altar. All characters are 18 and above. Adult 18+
Sample:
Sister Mary Immaculate wasn’t at all certain that she hadn’t entered the novitiate for the simple expedient of changing her name. Born Marie Claire Murphy - after her mother’s favorite fashion magazine - she had discovered early in life that there was more to being a Murphy than met the eye. It wasn’t until a friend explained “Murphy’s Law” to her that she understood the phrase, “What’s in a name?” Everything in Marie Claire Murphy’s life that could go wrong did go wrong. To her great dismay everything continued to go wrong even after she entered the convent and changed her name.
Take Father Gordon, for example. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to meet her in the choir’s cloak room at all hours of the night so that she could perform community service for him. She rather enjoyed the community service. It was the things that went wrong during community service that upset her. Right from the beginning Murphy's Law went into effect.
Her community service with Father Gordon had started late one Thursday afternoon during confession. Father Gordon was new in the convent, one of two priests who saw to the needs of the sisters. She found him very attractive. He was tall and must once have been an athlete, although now - in what was probably his early 50s - his muscles had mostly turned to fat. He was blond and blue eyed with a parrot beak of a nose and tight, disciplined lips. He radiated a kind of power that declared him a leader in an unspoken way. In her other life Sister Mary Immaculate had been attracted to powerful older men, which had gotten her into all kinds of difficulty. She was very attracted to Father Gordon. She found herself saying hundreds of Our Fathers and Hail Marys in an effort to stop thinking about Father Gordon particularly in the way she thought about Father Gordon when her thoughts should be on pure things like God. She gave herself many more Hail Marys and Our Fathers than any priest would have given her, but it didn't seem to help.
Sister Mary Immaculate knew she wasn't supposed to notice how handsome Father Gordon was, but for some reason her eyes seemed to find him whenever he came into the room. She knew her breath shouldn't catch in her throat and her panties become moist whenever she saw him, but pray as she did, it didn't work. She wondered if she should confess to the attraction during her weekly confession. The idea made her nervous which she thought might be a good thing. So she entered the confessional with a feeling of great discomfort on that particular Thursday.
“Forgive me Father for I have sinned,” she had said, searching her mind for anything she could report that might be considered a transgression. She wasn't quite ready to talk about that burning attraction to Father Gordon which filled the few idle minutes she was allowed during the day and a few other minutes beside. Indeed so many minutes were filled with thinking about Father Gordon when she should have been thinking of something else that she thought she might have developed a penchant for multi tasking thought processes.
As she listened to the traditional response from the other side of the screen, it occurred to her that hearing the confessions of the convent must be extremely boring for the Fathers. A faint wish to confess something really interesting flashed through her mind. She spoke about sneaking an extra helping of cake at dinner, being three minutes late for choral practice and then she decided to take the plunge.
"And I have impure dreams," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper.
“Tell me about your dreams,” said the disembodied voice from the indistinct shadow. She jumped and felt her body grow hot from head to foot. She had suddenly recognized the voice on the other side of the screen. It was Father Gordon’s voice. He had a thin, reedy, nasal tenor that completely lacked the warm base vibrations that typified Father Ignatius or any of the other priests that took confession from time to time. It was actually his only unattractive quality. Indeed it was his great limiter. Father Gordon didn’t conduct the services unless Father Ignatius was sick because his voice sounded so much like fingernails on a blackboard. Much to his chagrin the congregation had requested that he refrain from conducting public functions. It was difficult for him because he loved being in the front of the church - loved to deliver the sermons, chant the liturgy and lead the prayers - but, since his chanting could empty a room in under a minute, the church had felt there were better ways to use his talents.
“I dreamed about having sex on the altar,” she replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
