by Primula Bond
After what felt like several days’ starvation I was given some food on a tray, and when I lifted the lid on the soup tureen I found a smuggled note from Natalia.
Keep strong, my love, and we’ll be together very soon. You’ve given up everything for me, I realise that now. Your life. Your freedom. But the positive from that is that we will be together, in here, for ever.
How could she possibly know that instead of warming me during those cold February days and nights, those words sent chills through my very bones?
As I read and re-read the note there was much rattling of keys and scraping back of bolts.
‘Come just as you are, Sister. No time to get dressed. Mother Superior has a task for you.’
I wrapped my red scarf round my neck for warmth and Sister Agnes and Sister Frances walked me silently through the cloisters, refusing to answer any questions about Natalia. We glided through attics, down passages, out into a secluded part of the garden far away from my greenhouse and my vines, and left me shivering in my nightgown in front of a kind of Cubist structure made entirely of glass. The moon and the purple scudding clouds, and the huge cross on top of the building, were reflected so clearly on the roof panels that it was like a mirror on to the sky. From across the city I could hear the rhythmic bass beat of drums in the distance.
Another kind of music was coming from within the studio. Some kind of opera. There was a snigger of soft laughter. I hesitated. Was I outside the walls without realising it? Had they actually set me free after all?
A voice called out. ‘Come in, Sister. We’re waiting for you.’
The room was huge. A painter’s studio, in fact. Easels and workbenches leaned against the walls, and on the far side, under the biggest window, was an enormous sagging day bed piled high with cushions.
And on the sofa was Carlo Martelli, dressed as a highwayman in frock coat, breeches and a black velvet mask, straddled by a woman wearing a full red balldress.
‘She scrubs up well, doesn’t she? For a woman sworn to chastity!’
Carlo sniggered and slid his hand up the woman’s leg and under the dress, lifting the heavy skirts over her bottom, showing white lace stockings sheathing smooth thighs and leading the eye up to her naked buttocks and, as she wriggled on his knee, the brief shadow of her pussy. Then he reclined against the huge pillows, lifting her slim frame easily on top of him.
The woman twisted round to glance coquettishly over her shoulder and the coquette was none other than Mother Marta. A raven-black Marie Antoinette wig tumbled down her back. Her cheeks were dusted with bright spots of blusher and her red painted lips were wet with saliva.
‘How are you after your beating, Sister?’
This was all too much. I started to back out of the room.
‘Oh, you can’t go, Sister!’ Carlo called out. ‘Mother Superior wants to talk to you. Don’t mind me. I’m just here to service her –’
‘Service her? What are you, some kind of stud?’
‘You got it, Sister! All that trouble with Natalia – sorry, Sister Benedicta. It’s all been dealt with. All over. The obvious solution was to retain me right here in the convent, so now no one has to go outside for their pleasures.’
‘Well, there was a lot of negotiating, but you now belong to me for the moment, and only on high days and holidays of obligation!’ gasped Mother Marta, as Carlo fanned his big hands over her bottom and started to rock her gently. ‘As far as the other Sisters are concerned Carlo is only here to restore the chapel.’
Her small white buttocks parted as she moved over Carlo’s groin, the dark dividing sliver of violet showing as her body opened and closed.
‘That’s not all he’s restoring, you bitch!’ My voice was shaking. I couldn’t take my eyes off the way her muscular white legs held her as she swayed over Carlo’s velvet crotch. ‘Natalia is going to be absolutely gutted when she finds out about this!’
‘And it’s exactly that up-front attitude that we want to harness, Sister, if you’ll just calm down.’ Mother Marta’s voice was breathless, husky. She kept her black eyes on me, her soft lips pouting a kiss. Her thighs softened, opening wider. ‘And just remember who you’re speaking to, please.’
I gave a bitter snort of laughter. ‘You think I’m going to kowtow to you, after seeing this?’
‘That’s exactly what you’re going to do. I will give you your instructions when I’m done here.’
Carlo lifted the nun off him for a moment and there was his cock, huge and stiff, standing proud from the fly of his velvet breeches, and in one clean movement she landed lightly down again, sliding straight on to it. Shock caught in my throat as Mother Marta arched her back and started to ride. There was something extremely familiar about the way they were moving together. It was so quiet. Almost graceful. Like they’d been rehearsing this for hours. Days, even. I wanted to rush off and tell Natalia about this betrayal, even though this wasn’t the brutal Carlo she’d told me about. It was as if Mother Marta already had him tamed.
But the scene was red-hot nevertheless. What on earth was Mother Marta in her previous life? A lapdancer?
My legs started quivering with lust as Mother Marta fucked her stud, her body sliding over his cock as it went up into her. My body tightened up inside at the sight of them getting down to it, moving faster, right there in front of me, really jerking and bucking now, Carlo’s fingers digging into Mother’s buttocks to leave red marks while she did all the work, bouncing up and down on his legs, her pussy sucking him in, her false hair flying, and then those groans came, the ones I’d heard that first cold dark afternoon, his deep guttural groans interspersed with swear words.
Mother Superior remained silent as I would have expected her to, simply swaying her arms in the air above him as if dancing at a rock festival, tossing her hair, shaking her shoulders, arching her back, waiting for him to take his pleasure, and as soon as he started to come she jerked her bottom up and back and hard and fast, really expert, energetic stuff, so that she came at just the right moment and finally screamed into the operatic silence.
I needed to get back to Natalia, but I was frozen to the spot.
‘Now, Sister, where were we?’ Mother Superior roused herself after a few minutes, sitting up on the day bed and smoothing down her dress. She grabbed a bottle of wine and stood up, leaving Carlo sprawled and grinning on the cushions, and crossed gracefully to where a dark-green balldress was hanging up by the window. She chucked it at me then lay down again, first stroking her hand across the front of Carlo’s breeches and pouring out some of the wine. ‘I want you to get dressed up while we recover from that amazing fuck, because then I’m sending you out into the Carnivale!’
Anger surged through me and I marched over to where they lay sprawled, sweating and sated in their rumpled fancy dress. I noticed that the wine they were drinking was Natalia’s La Religieuse, and the bottle had my label on it.
‘How fucking dare you treat me to this charade? You’re supposed to be all holy, superior, so chaste! And you, you’re supposed to be Natalia’s boyfriend!’ I slapped my hands against my legs in exasperation.
‘Oh, wind your neck in, Sister!’ Carlo’s arm shot out and he caught hold of me, pulling me hard so that I fell awkwardly on top of them both, all of us sinking down into the pile of cushions. ‘Mother Marta here is in charge. Not you.’
‘And that’s why I want you to put this on.’ Sister Marta reached up and yanked my nightgown off. ‘And you should know by now that it’s against all the rules to wear any garment from home.’
She tossed my red scarf over to the door before I could wriggle away an while Carlo held my legs down, she dropped the dark-green dress over my head, muffling me inside its rich musky folds, then whisked behind me to do up the tight laces at the back and pin up my hair. ‘Aren’t you pleased to be in fancy dress?’
She put her arm round my neck and held up a mirror to show me our reflections. My face was flushed, my green eyes blazing, still the English rose. M
other Marta’s skin was pale and barely tinged with lust, the make-up garish and creepy, her black eyes glittering like a sultry witch. The low-cut dresses made our necks look longer and our breasts much bigger.
She chuckled before falling back on the bed, pulling me down with her and practically forcing the neck of the wine bottle into my mouth for a swig of red wine.
Now I found myself on my hands and knees, crouching over the wanton woman spread luxuriantly beneath me. The nun in her had evaporated into dust. Instead of her stern habit the red bodice was bursting at the seams to reveal her small round breasts and hard brown nipples peeping over the edge.
‘I thought you deserved a little fun after your isolation. Well, it wasn’t me, actually, it was Sister Antonia and her acolytes. They’ve grown fond of you, Sister. In our few minutes of communication earlier they explained they are all desperate for you to stay but a woman like you can’t be expected to give up her worldly ways overnight. And since no one should visit Venice without experiencing Carnivale, what better way to say goodbye to your old life than to go out there for one last fling?’ Mother Marta tugged at the tight bodice on my dress, which was already making it difficult to breathe. ‘Hence the fancy dress. You must admit it’s a rather splendid outfit?’
‘Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother,’ I mumbled. I couldn’t seem to get my words out clearly. My head was spinning, my thoughts whirling to make sense of what she was saying. ‘I would love to join in the Carnivale.’
Either she was very cunning or very stupid, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to get out of here. I decided to play along in whatever little game she wanted me to play until she released me back into the wild. My body was already playing along with her, anyhow. My warm pussy was threatening to drip its sticky honey over her flat stomach.
‘And in case you get lost or, heaven forfend, have any ideas about running away,’ Mother Marta added, reading my mind, ‘just remember that we are always watching you.’
Her nails dug into the soft flesh as she pulled my breasts towards her and brushed them across her closed eyelids. The sensation was sick, but heavenly. My limbs felt heavy and lazy, as if they were being filled with warm treacle. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I was slowly but surely losing it, and she could tell.
‘I am your servant, Mother,’ I whispered, falling against her.
‘Good. So you won’t mind if we investigate some of these wordly ways your Sisters seem so fascinated with.’
Mother Marta caressed the rounded flesh of my breasts with the merest touch of a butterfly, tickling with her fingertips, her eyelashes, even her false hair. I realised I was holding my breath, making the room seem as if it was filled with white light and revolving slowly round me. I let out my breath, arching my back, brazenly thrusting my tits towards her willing red mouth and thrusting my bottom into the air, but still the room went on turning as if it was one of those revolving stage sets. My eyelids blinked slowly to try to make sense of it, but my befuddled mind decided it didn’t care. All my energy was centred on my body, where every nerve ending was vibrating.
There was a rush of cool breeze as Carlo lifted up the skirt of my dress.
‘Still sore from that punishment I witnessed, Sister?’ he gloated, stroking the crisscross of red stripes still raw on my bottom and making me flinch. But I was past caring whether he was getting a good eyeful or what he was going to do about it. In answer I just swayed my buttocks from side to side.
My nipples felt sharp and burning as Mother Marta’s red lips parted and her tongue flicked out, just touching one burning nipple before flicking in again. I winced with pleasure and moaned out loud, embarrassed, frustrated, dull-witted. And wildly turned on.
Behind me, Carlo dug his big hands harder into my buttocks and now he was spreading open my cheeks. I moaned vaguely. I should be burning with humiliation, but I couldn’t get away because now Mother Marta was sucking my nipple right into her greedy red mouth. Carlo opened my cheeks more roughly now, making the dividing flesh sting, and then he paused, as if for permission.
But not from me. From Mother Marta. She gave one sharp nod, her lips still clamped tightly round my nipple. The gesture reminded me weirdly of how she acted when she was, well, her other self.
Carlo prodded his knob into the warm, dark crevice inside me. He let it rest there for a moment. I wondered how he could possibly be hard again so soon. Maybe he was just playing. Either way I was past permitting or refusing. My head was fuzzy, yet my body was coiled tense and tight as a spring. I was being carried on a strange sea of ecstasy as Mother Marta massaged my breasts and fiercely sucked first one aching nipple, then the other. As I closed my eyes to hang on to the sensation I thought of Natalia. What we would do together if we could get out of here for good.
The two of us on a bed, on a beach, in a garden somewhere, kissing, touching, sucking each other’s tits and finger-fucking each other, giggling quietly so no one else could hear, blushing at the daring of it, then doing it some more until it was no longer a luxury, it was an addiction. Doing this to each other all summer long.
But she was so far away just then. They all were. I didn’t know how to reach any of my Sisters, let alone Hazel and the outside world. There was just me and this man and Mother Marta and, as the convent’s Mother Superior sucked on my nipples, I wondered if she had done this to my Natalia, too. To all the others, to make them stay?
‘This is one way of keeping her quiet, anyway.’ Carlo pushed a finger roughly inside my tight ass, making me bite my tongue with shock. ‘My big brother says she likes it rough.’
I gasped and struggled feebly. ‘Your brother? What the hell?’
‘Zippo Martelli, of course! Master Gardener and Vintner of Santa Maria Convent, and now upgraded to Master Sister-Shagger.’ Carlo laughed, deep down in his throat. ‘What a boy!’
‘Nothing this girl does would surprise me,’ murmured Mother Marta, ‘especially now I’ve seen it all on the CCTV.’
Christ, it all made perfect, hideous sense. They were all linked, all related, all in this together. All it needed was Signora Martelli and Hazel to be in on it, too.
I opened my mouth to speak but only a kind of garbled rush of air came out. Now Carlo was impaling me sharply on his finger, rotating it from side to side in my asshole as it puckered and resisted until the tight little opening went loose and allowed the finger in, opening softly and wetly and making me gasp with the embarrassment and novelty and filthiness of it. Then he couldn’t help himself, because he followed his finger with another, pushing them, rotating them to open me up, force that reluctant place to welcome him in, and the more it opened the more delicious and dirty it felt, and then suddenly he was nudging at it with the warm round tip of his prick, knocking me forwards with the force of it as my buttom weakly tried to repel him but in he went, pressing me harder against Mother Marta’s mouth.
Carlo grunted with triumph, grasped my hips, and pushed himself in, inch by inch. Oh yes, he was hard and ready all right. Whatever potion was in that wine was obviously an aphrodisiac, as well as a hallucinogenic.
As he started to fuck my bottom, Mother Marta trailed her fingers down to my pussy, which was clamouring with overpowering spasms of lust. She stroked my pussy lips, ran one finger down the wet crack, then, in an echo of Carlo’s cock, pushed several long fingers violently up inside me.
I screeched out loud, rocking there between the two of them, and urgently I wanted to touch her too, discover what she felt like between those white thighs, maybe even hurt her, make her screech with lovely pain, and as soon as my fingertips brushed her pussy, it reacted like a second mouth, sucking greedily at my fingers.
‘Yes, cara, yes, my lovely, that’s the way,’ Mother Marta breathed, lifting herself slightly, still licking my nipples, so that my fingers slipped easily inside. I wondered if the endearment was meant for someone else. Natalia. Or Sister Antonia. Or Zippo. Or Father Luca? But I didn’t care. As fingers and cocks went in and out of our sigh
ing, writhing bodies, I realised I was no longer torn between any of them. I wanted everyone, and everyone wanted me. I plunged three fingers roughly inside her, letting my thumb trail behind until it caught the little nub of her clitoris, and then, as if I’d been doing this all my life instead of just a few days, I rubbed brutally hard, making her fall back, biting her lips with pleasure and rubbing equally brutally at my clit, plunging her long fingers rapidly in and out of my cunt.
Carlo grunted, strong and almost silent behind me. ‘This one’s even juicier than the last one you brought in to me, Mother.’
He fucked my arse, making it clench round his cock, which was right up me now, sending dark delicious ripples up through my spine like waves crashing on the shore of my pussy, my arse gripping him in there until it hurt and yet felt fantastic and made sparks of evil pleasure dash through me.
