Blessed Sacrament, Part Three

  • Posted on October 21, 2021 at 1:36 pm

by Jacqueline Jillinghoff

Sister Katherine was right. I had changed inside. I couldn’t think about anything but my pussy. All day long, I’d squeeze my legs together under my desk, waiting for classes to be over so Sister and I could be alone, and she’d finger me or eat me, and I’d show her how I loved to come.

One day it got so bad, I swear, the buzzer went off at three o’clock and I came in my panties, like one of those dogs that drools when it hears a bell.

The sex runs together in my mind now, but I remember being bent over Sister’s desk, naked, of course, with my arms tucked under my tits and my legs spread, and her on the floor behind me, fully clothed, shoving her tongue up my ass.

Sister Katherine loved my ass. And why not? It was the only part of me that was at all round. Sister called it a miracle. She’d pat it and squeeze it and hold it in her hands. Her idea of heaven, she said once, would be to worship my body forever.

I hadn’t felt so loved since I was a little girl and I’d sit on my mom’s lap after my bath, wrapped in a towel.

Those feelings went away at Christmas. So did Sister Katherine.

It was the last day before vacation, and Sister and I hadn’t been together since before exam week. She kept putting me off. She had our papers to grade, she said, and faculty meetings and “other things to take care of” before school closed until New Year’s. I hoped she was teasing, making me wait for the last big orgasm that would carry me through the holidays.

We were dismissed at lunch time. The other kids were eager to make their escape, but when my line was called, I just sat there, waiting for the room to empty out. Sister saw me and shook her head. I made a pleading face. She made a sterner one. But I stayed put until she got up and came over. Everyone else was tramping out, so nobody paid attention when she leaned in close and said, “We can’t.”

“Please?”

“I’ve still got all your grades to do, and a big dinner at the convent. When you come back. I promise. Now go. Offer it up for the souls in Purgatory.”

So I offered it up. Running to catch my line, I wondered how many suffering souls would be go to heaven that day because I couldn’t get my pussy licked, and if they’d all be sent back after I played with myself at home.

I was two blocks from school when I decided I’d never make it. But it was too cold to hide behind a bush or a store. I thought of walking home with my hand down my panties, but then somebody might see. There had to be another way, someplace warm I could do it and not get caught.

The other kids were going their separate ways, talking all kinds of baby stuff about presents and trips. Nobody noticed when I turned around and headed back.

Sister had said no, and nothing I could say would change her mind. I could beg, but begging would make me sound pathetic and desperate — which I was, really, but no way I was going to let her know it. As I went back in the rear door of the school, sidling past the last file of kids on their way out, I turned the problem over in my mind. The moment called for action — something big that would bring Sister Katherine to her knees — and I had no idea what it could be.

Sister Rose was just closing the door to her office when I came in from the east stairs.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way home?” she asked.

“I forgot something. Is Sister Katherine still here?”

“I didn’t see her leave. You can check your classroom. Is everything all right? You look pale.”

“I’m fine, Sister.”

“Well, then, have a blessed Christmas.”

“Thank you, Sister. The same to you.”

She passed me, pushed open the fire door to the stairs, and disappeared. Poor thing: she was such a nice woman, for a principal, but she was clueless. I had to smile at the thought that I knew so much more about some things than she did, even if I was only twelve.

I went around the corner and down the main hallway, which was empty and dark.  All the classroom doors were shut. I was still wondering what I could do or say when I walked in on Sister Katherine, if she was even still there. It was getting harder to walk, and harder to breathe. My bookbag felt heavy, tugging painfully at my shoulder, the plastic handle biting my fingers. What was I afraid of? She wasn’t going to hurt me. The most she would do would be turn me around and nudge me back out the door.

But that was bad enough.

I was shaking by the time I peeked through the window in the classroom door. A Christmas wreath was hung on the inside, and I saw Sister’s face, like a cameo, ringed with plastic holly leaves and red buds. She wasn’t looking at her desk. Her eyes were raised, as if something at the far end of the room was distracting her. She half smiled, and then her lips moved. I thought maybe she was praying.

So now what? For a moment I actually thought about knocking, and I darned myself for being so timid.

I should just walk in naked, I thought.

And then I thought, I should just walk in naked.

It was as if the dove had descended from heaven.

Learn to play, Sister had told me. The danger is what makes it fun.

I stood my bookbag beside the wall and folded my coat on top of it. That was my last concession to prissy schoolgirl neatness. The spirit was in me. It was the spirit that raised up my clothes and carried them off in every direction. They flew from my body, and where they went was no longer any concern of mine.

I was shaking again, but not out of fear. Stripping made me giddy. I practically danced, twirling and holding my arms high as I tossed away each layer of that oppressive uniform. If I hadn’t been so determined to throw myself at Sister Katherine, I could have run from one end of the school to the other, upstairs and down, naked and free and radiant as an angel.

Someday soon, I told myself, I was going to do it.

On the other side of the glass, Sister went on praying. It had been a long time: was she saying the Rosary or something? I took hold of the cold brass doorknob. She didn’t look over. I turned it. She still didn’t move. Quietly, I pulled the door open a crack and spun through, backing into the room. The first thing Sister Katherine saw, as I pulled the door shut, was the curvy ass she couldn’t keep her hands off of.

I had never loved my body as much as I did at that moment.

“Surprise,” I said, softly, turning to face her.

But Sister didn’t look surprised, or excited, or anything else I’d expected. Her expression was blank, with her lips half-open, as though she was trying to figure out what was happening.

The naked girl standing in the center aisle looked at me the same way.

Her name was Donna. She sat two aisles away from me, though I hardly knew her. She was one of those girls who’d developed early. She was shorter than me, but she had actual tits and a bigger butt. Her hair was fox-red, and she had a narrow strip of fuzz between her legs.

She also had a hand on her pussy, and she kept it moving even after she saw me. She’d been giving Sister Kat a show, and I guess she was too far gone to stop just because another naked girl had entered the room. Or maybe the sight of me was what put her over the top. I don’t know, but I recognized the fish-face she was making. It was the same one I made when I played with myself in front of my bedroom mirror, except her face got a lot redder than mine. The only other difference between us was that her boobs were big enough to jiggle when she came.

I would have liked to watch them jiggle, if I hadn’t been suddenly blinded by a burst of salt water.

“Hey,” Sister said. “Don’t.”

Her chair scraped the floor. Then her arms were around me. All I saw was a white blur. I was crying into Sister’s bib. Her habit always smelled clean, like linen that’s just been ironed. It had always been a comforting smell — until now.

“Don’t cry,” she said. “It’s all right. It’s better you know. We can all be friends.”

I let her soft hands slide down my back. I let them cup my ass. But when she tried to stick her fingers in my cunt, I went tight all over.

“No!” I said, wriggling away. She took hold of my shoulders, but I pushed back, forcing a space between us.

If I’d been older, I would have called her a lying bitch and told her she could have her red-headed slut, if that’s what she wanted. But I was twelve. All I could do was wail. Wail and hit. A minute ago, I had wanted to hold Sister’s Katherine’s breasts in my hands. Now all I wanted was to pound them into mush.

“Stop it,” she said. “Stop it! Ow! You little bitch, don’t you ever do that again.”

My face stung, and before I could touch it, and she was holding me by the wrists, shaking me.

“Donna,” she said. “Help me. Hold her down.”

She was talking about me like I was some kind of animal. Which at that moment, I was. I broke free of Sister’s grip and spun around, bolting for the door — and my clothes — but the red-headed girl was already blocking my way. I smacked into her. She threw her arms around me like a wrestler.

I felt every inch of her against me, from her shoulders to her knees, her fat boobies squashed under mine. Between the full-body press and my rage, I couldn’t tell if I was pissed off or turned on.

Donna and I were nose to nose. I was looking down at her, into her green eyes. And then suddenly, wildly, I stumbled ahead, flattening her against the door and stuffing my tongue into her mouth. She didn’t try to stop me.

I honestly thought this would teach Sister a lesson. If she could use Donna to hurt me, I could do the same to her. But Sister didn’t care enough to be hurt.

“That’s my girls,” she said, behind me. “See? We can all play nice.”

Her breath slithered around my ear. Her habit pressed softly against my back. Somebody’s fingers went into my cunt. I never found out whose, but the release, when it came, was torrential.

My body seized up, my head went back, and I made my crazy fish-face toward the ceiling.

“It’s all right,” Sister Katherine said. “She’ll behave herself now.”

Donna relaxed her arms, and I sank to the floor, sliding down her body. My lips grazed her boobs, her stomach, her fox-red fuzz. My hands trailed over her butt and down her legs. The fingers slipped out of my pussy, and there I was, sprawled on my ass, too shaken to move.

“And it turned out to be a wonderful Christmas after all,” Sister said.

I couldn’t help laughing. I’d been humiliated — lied to, cheated on, and slapped — but I’d never come so hard.

I looked up at the undersides of Donna’s pink-on-white tits, and the dark red seam between her legs. She caught me staring, and suddenly it made her self-conscious. After everything we’d done, she tried to cover up.

“Donna is horny as the devil, but she’s still shy,” Sister said. “She doesn’t have your sense of adventure. I was hoping to bring her out of her shell before the three of us got together, but I’m glad you’re here. You can help.”

That annoyed me. I hadn’t stripped down just to help Sister Katherine break in another girlfriend.

“I don’t want to,” I said, as little-girl whiny as I could manage.

“Oh, come on,” Sister said. “I saw the way you were looking at that cute red pussy. Are you telling me you don’t want a taste of that?”

“Hm,” I said.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Donna, unzip me.”

I had to wonder what was going on inside that red-haired skull. Donna hadn’t said a word since I’d come through the door. But she’d fingered herself in front of me, and she’d let me kiss her, and now she obediently followed Sister’s command. Was she really as horny as the devil, as Sister said, or just too scared to resist?

Her pussy smelled like strawberries. I meant to ask her what kind of bath soap she used. Licking her down there was like licking an ice cream cone — smooth and pink and creamy — with just a touch of roughness from her sparse hair, like a sprinkle of jimmies. On Sister’s orders, she lay on the floor, and I crawled between her legs, lapping at her slowly, one long tongue stroke after another.

Sister Katherine, naked now, rolled me over halfway and pushed her face into my pussy. She sucked my clitty in the most heavenly way — so lightly I would hardly have known she was there, if it hadn’t been for the waves of pleasure that were twisting me inside out.

Then, without taking her mouth off my cunt for a second, she screwed herself around and planted her bush in front of Donna’s mouth.

Donna took the hint, raising her head and sticking out her tongue, and the three of us were where Sister Katherine wanted us to be: balled up in an oral knot, me eating Donna, Donna eating Sister, Sister eating me. We were like the three ages of women: the bald pussy, the fuzzy pussy, and the hairy pussy. The Holy Trinity of Cunt-Licking.

It would have been a miracle if we all came together. Well, I can promise you, miracles do happen. We could feel each other’s rhythms, the force that flowed in a circle through our mouths to our bodies. Sister thrashed my clitty with her tongue. I did the same to Donna. I don’t know what Donna was doing, but in a it wasn’t long before Sister’s muffled squeals were buzzing all through me.

My climax took me by surprise: I felt it starting, but I thought it was still a ways off, until suddenly my baby cunt was ringing like a church bell. Donna whimpered into Sister’s pussy, and I knew her moment had arrived, too. Sister Katherine, in turn, heaved a huge sigh and went limp.

We were so happy with each other, and with the sexual power that seemed to come from outside ourselves, filling us like grace, that we never noticed Sister Rose Frances had been standing there the whole time.

“So,” she said, “this is why you’ve been staying late.”

The Holy Trinity broke up fast. Donna’s knee bashed me in the face as she scrambled for her clothes. Sister fought her way out from my legs and grabbed her habit. All I found was Donna’s panties, which didn’t cover much.

“Stop, all of you,” Sister Rose said. “Don’t even bother. You can’t hide from Almighty God.”

Nobody was trying to hide from God. The real threat was Sister Rose Francis. She was standing between us and the door, her lips tight, her eyes narrow, and from where I was sitting, gaping up at her, the Christmas wreath circled her head like a ragged halo. I couldn’t have been more terrified if she had sprouted wings and waved a flaming sword.

Sister Katherine knelt before her, bowing her head and clutching her habit to her boobs. In an instant, she had been reduced from a dictator to a penitent little girl. She even blessed herself before she dared to open her mouth.

“Please, Sister,” she said. “Forgive them. They’re innocent.”

“Forgive them?” Sister Rose said. “If I were you, I would be worried about my own soul. When you were transferred here, you swore to me this would not be a problem.”

“I tried, Sister. I truly did, but —”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Sister Rose said. “Get down to my office as fast as your legs will carry you. — No, leave your habit. You don’t deserve to wear it. Wear your shame instead.”

Sister Katherine — just Katherine now, I guess — stood up, dropping her few scraps of clothing, and went naked to the door.

“Say goodbye to her, children,” Sister Rose said. “You are never going to see her again.”

But we were too stunned to speak. My last memory of Sister Katherine George is the sight of her opal-shaped buttocks fading into the darkened hall.

“I’ll deal with her later,” Sister Rose said. “The two of you — on your feet.”

We did as we were told, and she looked us over, head to foot, but taking her time in the middle. A few minutes ago, I was dying to show off my body, and now I wanted to crawl into a hole. It depends entirely on the attitude of the person looking at you, I suppose, and Sister Rose did not look happy with what she saw.

I folded my hands discreetly in front of my slit. My little titties weren’t worth the trouble it would take to conceal them. Donna had more to be embarrassed about. She laid one hand on her crotch and grabbed at her boobs with the other.

“Don’t pretend to be modest now,” Sister Rose said. “Arms at your sides.”

Again, we did as we were told.

“Which one of you left her clothes all over the floor outside?” Sister Rose demanded.

Donna, who still had never spoken, gave me away by glancing in my direction.

“You?” Sister Rose said to me.

“Yes, Sister.”

“What are they doing out there?”

“I took them off.”

“I can see that. Why did you take them off?”

“I wanted to surprise Sister Katherine.”

“Surprise her? By waltzing in here naked?”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Well, aren’t you the shameless little whore,” she said.

That seemed to be the common opinion among the faculty.

Sister Rose carried on her inspection, walking around us. I was sure I could feel her eyes on my bare behind. Then I felt the tips of her fingers, for real, run down my spine, soft as fog. They gave me chills all over.

“I’ll say one thing for Sister Katherine,” she said at last. “She has excellent taste in playmates. You’re both lovely, in your own way. I think we’re all going to be very good friends.”

The End

 

11 Comments on Blessed Sacrament, Part Three

  1. Kim & Sue says:

    wow, we thought for a moment we might have been in for a foursome. Wondering if Kathrine’s punishment may be sexy as well? Sister Rose will carry on Barbara and Donna’s education it looks like.

    Hot story Jill.

  2. Kim & Sue says:

    PS we were very caught off guard and surprised by Donna’s presence, and it was great fun for us to have another girl added to the adventure.

  3. Steve says:

    Come on don’t tell me this is the end of the story there has to be more

  4. David says:

    Hot chapter and it looks like Sister Rose is going to have her own fun. Not the way I expected this story to end but it does leave a lot to the imagination, which in my mind is very good! Well written and detailed but sad to see it end.

  5. obsessive imaginings says:

    I was so hoping for Barbara to bust in completely naked on a meeting of Sister Katherine and one or two other nuns having a school related meeting and she manages to hide just before the other two women spot her and she has to stay hidden until the other two leave.

  6. cherryco says:

    Oooooh, so HOT! I truly love lesbian nun stories, and this one rocked my world. I give it FIVE Hail Marys!

  7. kinkys_sis says:

    The shaking finger types—wonderful.

    I can get in a state when I write, not so often when I read … I just did!

  8. Bryan says:

    I gonna be honest I had a difficult time following the line in this story

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