Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  I lurch for her, backing her up against the wall. “I bet your pussy is saying something completely different.” I say this as I touch her over the fabric of her tunic. She gasps when I grip her sex. I press my lips to hers, and she struggles for only a blink before giving in and letting me claim her mouth. I continue rubbing her over her clothing, and soon she’s moaning against my mouth, her eyes wide.

  “Did I make you come?” I hiss in her ear.

  She pushes me away and staggers away, out of breath, running into the convent. I laugh out loud. This is going to be a whole lot of fun. My laughter stops when I look in the other direction and spot Sister Concessa. “Fuck.” I say under my breath. How much of that did she see?

  Chapter Five

  Celeste

  Sister Mary Concessa’s office door is open when I approach.

  “Come in, close the door behind you.” I have no idea what she wants with me, but being called out of mid-day prayers tells me that it’s nothing good. Adele had looked stricken when she came to get me. I have no doubt she’s been on the receiving end of this ghastly woman’s fury.

  Concessa stands and makes her way to the window, staring out of it with a faraway look in her eyes. She doesn’t ask me to sit, and I dare not without her permission. Instead, I stand around awkwardly, waiting for her to speak. The seconds tick by on the grandfather clock that stands against one of the walls in her office.

  “Do you know what it means to be in the service of the Lord, Celeste? Some women are born to take care of a household, mother children, sell their bodies out on the streets. But us, we were born to serve God, to be in tune with His commandments.” She turns toward me, smiling mirthlessly. “That, Celeste, means stripping yourself of worldly things. Not allowing yourself to be led astray by things most women are polluted by.”

  “Yes, Sister,” I murmur, not quite understanding where this is going. There is no way she knows about Father Thomas and I. If she did, she’d make sure I was already out on the streets.

  “You are to love God above all else.” She sneers. “Charity is the greatest of all virtues. It unites us to God.” I want to tell her that we are also required to love our neighbour. That's what Father Thomas and I do, grant our fellow men reprieve from their sinful ways. Instead, I keep my shut my mouth instead as she stalks toward me. Her face is as red as a tomato, anger rippling off of her. “You deserve to be punished for what you’re doing to Mr. Michaels. He is trying to repent, cleanse his soul, and you are leading him astray.” She looks almost crazed.

  “I can explain-”

  She puts a finger on my lips, standing just inches in front of me. “You deserve to be hurt for what you’ve done.”

  I say nothing, just tug up my tunic and position myself over her desk before she has to tell me to. She pulls down my underwear, and I close my eyes. I listen as she walks around the desk and opens a drawer, retrieving a wooden ruler. She taps it a few times on my ass then slaps it down hard enough to solicit a howl of agony. Tears sting my eyes, but I try to squeeze them back. She rubs my ass, cooing like one would an infant. The second sting comes out of nowhere, just when my breathing had started to even out. I can't help but cry out again.

  “I can’t have you making a noise, Celeste.” She stuffs some sort of cloth into my mouth, forcing me to breathe through my nose which is quickly stuffing up due to my crying. I try to focus my attention on breathing, on anything but this torture. She hits me again, and I know my skin will break if she continues like this. She pushes herself against my ass, rubbing herself on me. Her depraved moans have me nearly gagging, and when she thrusts a finger into me, I growl and buck, trying to push her away from me. This bitch is getting off on me! My reluctance only angers her, though. She pulls away, bringing the ruler down so hard it breaks on my ass. I scream, tears falling down my face. I turn around, and look at her in horror. She lurches for me, gripping me by the throat and pinning me to the table.

  “You think you’re too good for this?” I can’t breathe, my airways restricted. The door swings open, and she instantly lets me go, turning. “Father Thomas.” She says sweetly, having switched from a psychotic maniac to someone sweet as sugar in seconds. He glares down at me as I stand, straighten up, and pull the cloth from my mouth.

  “Leave.” She growls at me. I do as I’m told, but I know that she’s not done with me. I leave the two of them in the office and make my way to my room. I know she’s going to tell Father Thomas about what she saw. How could I have been so stupid?

  Blood is the only kind of atonement God accepts. Father Thomas made me realize that. When he is called upon to intervene, there is no doubt it is because blood is required. I am the vessel he must use to carry out his divine purpose because I am the only one who understands that the greater good can only be achieved through sacrifice.

  Christ himself sacrificed his life. Whoever loses their life for Christ will save theirs.

  Father Thomas is not as vile as Priest thinks he is. We only kill those who want to be killed, those who desire freedom, those who beg us to end their suffering. Sin is a sickness, and death is the cure.

  He called Father Thomas a monster, he is far from it. He is the image of God on earth.

  The man sitting in the front pew, Gareth Yates, has a secret he’s kept from everyone all his life, and he’s about to confess it to me. He’s about to kneel at my feet and beg me to end his life. Beg me to forgive him for his sins. And I will. I will gladly run a knife across his throat the way he wants me to. Father Thomas will be proud.

  “When do we start?” his voice trembles as he looks up at me.

  “Anytime you’re ready.”

  I sit with my legs crossed and my hands resting on my knee. He keeps glancing at my hands, trying to decipher my next move. He needn’t worry. I will not end him now, he has a story to tell first, a confession to make, and I want to hear it. I’m not savage, I respect the process. It’s why I am the only one Father Thomas trusts with this.

  “The first time I saw her, she was on her way home from school. I was picking up my daughter that day. Her mother usually does the school run, but she was stuck in a meeting which is why I believed it was destiny that I should meet her. The girl was with a group of other girls her age, and at first glance, you’d think they were friends. But as I watched them, it became clear that they weren’t. They made fun of her, teased her about some adolescent nonsense. The girl I was focused on was perfect. She had a full figure and wavy brown hair that she’d tied in a ponytail. She looked to be around seventeen. A senior most likely, in her final year.”

  He clasps and unclasps his hands. "I don’t know what made me do it, but I continued coming to the school the rest of that week. I didn’t pick my daughter up, and I stayed far enough away so I wouldn’t be spotted. It was the first time I’d ever had an urge to follow someone, so I pulled away from the curb, and I followed her.”

  I listened intently, never interrupting. Let them speak. Listen.

  He looks like your typical, middle-aged businessman, in an expensive pinstriped suit complete with a waistcoat and tie. His hair, which is favourably greying at his temples, is brushed back, making him look every bit the distinguished gentleman... He isn’t.

  “I started wondering what it would be like…you know,” he swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob a little. He’ll make a pretty mess.

  “I couldn’t think those things. I kept telling myself that, not about a girl that young. She was maybe a year or so older than my own daughter, but the desires, they wouldn’t let up, and so I followed her again, every day, watching the route she took. I told myself it was just to get off. I’d use the thoughts of her to my advantage. The way her skirt sat just above her knees giving her that innocent look, something I craved.”

  Gareth has been married for twenty years this month. He’s father to two children, a sixteen year old daughter and a twelve year old son. He’s a banker, wealthy. Entitled.

  “Go on.” I tell him.


  “It became difficult to just watch. I knew I had to talk to her. It was wrong, I knew that, but I also couldn’t stop myself.” He looks around the empty church then meets my eyes. “I waited in the park near the school, the one she walks through every day when the girls go their separate ways. I just wanted to talk to her, I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen…”

  “What did you do, Gareth?”

  “I punched her. Hard enough to make her pass out, then I dragged her into the bushes. She was so beautiful, so innocent. I - I had to have her.” He’s trembling at the thought, almost out of breath. I stand, walking over to him.

  His hands fist on his knees. “I did things...”

  He bends at the waist, his breathing uneven. A panic attack. I can tell it’s true, that that was his first time with the girl, but I also know it won’t be his last, and that is why he’s here. The Lord commands that we put to death our sinful nature.

  Father Thomas steps out of the shadows. Gareth’s gaze shifts to the priest who is making his way closer. I see the knife glistening in its place on top of an open bible in Father Thomas's hands.

  “Tell us.” I encourage him.

  “I can’t say it. I can’t.” He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his coat, his shoulders suddenly shuddering.

  “You raped and sodomised her, Gareth, then you slit her throat and left her there.” I remind him. He gags at my words.

  “I didn’t mean to.” Tears stream down his face. Father Thomas nods, and I take the knife from him.

  “Remove your clothing. Bare yourself before the Lord.” Father Thomas instructs.

  Gareth stands, walking toward the large cross a few feet from the front pew. He relinquishes his clothing. He’s at least a foot taller than Father Thomas, much bulkier.

  “Kneel before Christ.” Gareth does as he is told, his head dipped low. I take my place in front of the man whose laying his sins at the feet of God. I run my hands through his hair, tugging it back so he’s facing me. I spread my legs and he latches onto me. “Feed off this holy vessel, and you will be saved.” He grips my thighs, and he’s sucking me so good, I can barely stand. His tongue slips over me, and he nibbles my clit and I cry out, gripping his head and pressing it to me, as I fuck his face, riding my orgasm.

  “May God grant you pardon and absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” Father Thomas recites.

  He's out of breath when I release him, taking my place behind him. I grab a bunch of Gareth’s hair, tugging his head back, exposing his neck. He’s shivering, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. I look behind me at Father Thomas as I slit the man’s throat in one clean swipe. I release his hair, and he falls heavily onto the floor.

  The silence in the church is deafening. I drop to my knees, for I too need penance after what we just did. “You have done well, my child.” Father Thomas places a hand on my head. “You have helped rid this world of more impurity , but your own impurities now need to be cleansed.”

  I nod, clasping my hands in prayer.

  An hour later, I retrieve my whip from under my bed and walk to Father Thomas's office where he waits for me. I hand him the whip, strip out of my habit, and kneel naked before him. He shoves my white cotton panties in my mouth.

  “Look at me, Celeste.” I do as I’m told. I cry out when the leather whip slams against my breasts, but my panty-gag helps muffle the sound. “Sister Concessa tells me you’ve been getting friendly with our guest, Mr. Michaels.” he says bitterly as he slaps the whip against my chest again.

  I shake my head, my eyes pleading with him.

  He continues the torture me on my back, my stomach, my arms, tears flowing like a waterfall. I know this is necessary. I know this is the only way to ensure my salvation. He doesn’t stop until I’m out of breath on the floor, the pain making it impossible for me to stay on my knees. He tugs me up by my arms and drags me over to his chair where he tugs me onto his lap until I’m straddling him. His erection presses painfully between my legs. He wipes the tears from my face, his hands trailing down until he roughly cups my breasts.

  “I’m sorry, child.” he whispers as he grips my ass.

  I rock my hips back and forth on him, knowing that it is the only way to show him how remorseful I am. I want more. I want him to use my body in other ways.

  “Touch me, please.” I plead, knowing he will deny me. He bites my tits, and stare at him blankly, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. He groans out an orgasm then pushes me off of him. I stare down at the front of his pants which are now wet.

  “Pray for your sins.” he tells me, out of breath as I dress and leave his office without so much as a glance back at him.

  Chapter Six

  Priest

  I tried to get into the church tonight, but the doors were locked. Father Thomas is onto me, and if I know what’s good for me, I’ll shut the fuck up and mind my own business. He’s the only one, besides my family, who knows what happened, why I’m here. If anyone else found out, my father’s political career would be over, and my life would too.

  I see Celeste leaves his office, limping slowly down the corridor, her head bowed low. I overheard him whipping her into submission for what he forces her to do in that church. I have got to say something. I cannot let her believe that any of this is right or acceptable. I follow her, staying in the shadows, making sure to keep a safe distance so I don’t startle her. I wait a few minutes after she disappears into her room before I open her door, glad it’s unlocked. She spins around when she hears the door, her eyes wide.

  “What are you doing here?” Her brows knit together. I try to focus on her eyes, but it’s her bruised and battered body that holds my attention. Her beautiful skin displays several red lines, from the lashing no doubt. But she is still exquisite, and I’ll be lying if I say I don’t want to use her body for my own pleasure. I shut the door behind me.

  “Why do you let him do this to you?” I growl under my breath.

  “He doesn’t do anything to me. I have to repent, you wouldn’t understand.”

  I close the small distance between us. “Surely you can see this is not the way. He’s forcing you to commit these heinous acts and then punishing you for it.”

  She looks up at me, fire burning in her eyes. When I reach out and touch her arm, she flinches, backing away from me. “Don’t touch me.”

  She says she doesn’t want me to, but along with the fire I see, desire also burns in her eyes. Like it did when I kissed her. I step closer to her, watching her chest heave. “You shouldn’t be in here. If Sister Concessa-”

  I grip the back of her neck and pull her closer to me. “Sister Concessa doesn’t have to know.”

  I crash my lips to hers, pushing my tongue between her stubborn lips. She tries to push me away, but I wrap my other arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her soft curves against my hard chest creating the perfect dichotomy. She pulls away, groaning in agony. “The lashes hurts.”

  I immediately release my strong hold on her, my hands still lingering on her waist. “Let me help make it better.”

  She’s guarded, already recoiling from me. I have to show her that punishment isn’t the only form of pleasure.

  “This is sinful, Priest.”

  “So is everything Father Thomas does to you.” I glare down at her. She lets out a breath, backing away from me until her back hits the wall.

  “Please leave.” Ignoring her plead, I cage her in, my hands tracing over the irritated skin on her breasts. My blood boils at the thought of him hurting her like this. I lean in and kiss her throat. She lets out a breath but lets me continue kissing my way to her collarbone.

  I continue worshiping her neck, loving her addictive scent. “I want to make you feel good.” She closes her eyes when I trace my fingers over her peaked nipples, letting out a soft moan. Something tells me she’s never experienced this kind of intimacy. I slide my hand down her body, over the soft hai
rs between her legs. “You’re beautiful.”

  She flinches again. I slip a finger over her clit. She’s wet. That’s enough to convince me that she needs this.

  “Priest,” my name falls from her lips in a whimper as she spreads her legs for me. I drop to my knees and replace my finger with my tongue, lapping up her sweet juices.

  “Oh, I…” I use my fingers to spread her wider, until my tongue is flat against her clit. She cries out, and I take that as an invitation to thrust a finger deep inside her. She grips my hair, pulling me closer to her. I use my teeth to bite softly on her clit until she’s crying out an orgasm. I’m so hard, I need to be inside her. I stand, kissing her mouth with her juices still on my lips. She sucks at me hungrily, losing her inhibitions. I grab her wrist and lay her on her small bed. I’ll fucking break it if I’m not careful.

  She stares up at me, her eyes hooded, her legs spread.

  I undress then hover over her, placing kisses to her face, her lips, her breasts.

  “I need to be inside you.” I tell her, and she nods. “Say the words,” I say as I pump my length.

  “I want you in me.” That is all it takes for me to settle between her legs, thrusting into her hard. She cries out, and I have to place a palm over her mouth.

  “Shh, you wouldn’t want anyone to know about this.”

  I move inside her, and she meets my every thrust, her body arching off the bed, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her warmth and heat engulf me. I hold her hands above her head as I pick up the pace, pounding into her tight pussy. I feel my orgasm build, and after one deep thrust, I’m emptying myself inside her as she cries out yet another orgasm of her own.

  I rise from the bed, dressing quickly. The last thing I want is to be found in her room.

  “I should go.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. Her cheeks are tinged pink, and she smiles at me nervously. I walk backward, taking in her body once more.