Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  You can’t hide from me.

  I stand against the tiled bathroom wall, and watch as she cuts from one side of her wrist to the next. Nothing happens, but she looks satisfied. She does the same to her other wrist, but it’s a failed attempt. I grin. “I’m fine, honey.” I call when Priest knocks again.

  “You don’t win.” I say through gritted teeth to the bitch in the mirror.

  “I feel a warm trickle of liquid run down my arm and gasp when I realize my wrists are bleeding. Two clean cuts on each of them.

  I will always find you. Your sins follow you.

  I suck in a breath, my eyes flying open. The room I’m in is white and padded. I try to move my arms but they’re retrained. “Priest!” I yell. The door creeks open, and a tall, gangly man with a white coat and rimless glasses enters the room.

  “Celeste, I’m Doctor Bartlett. Do you remember me?”

  “No.” I hiss. “Where the hell am I?” Where is my husband, my son?”

  “Celeste. You’re at Horizon View, a psychiatric facility. You were brought here by Father Heath Thomas, do you remember him?”

  “He’s dead!” I yell. “I killed him. What did you do to my family?”

  He pulls a syringe from his coat pocket and steps closer to me to insert it into my drip line. “What is that?”

  Good night, Celeste.

  I start to scream but it feels like nobody hears me. My vision starts to blur, and I swear I see Father Thomas walking into the room before everything goes black.

  To be continued…

  About Jo-Anne

  Jo-Anne Joseph is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves good books and good wine.

  Her lifelong love affair with words started from a young age, and she has published several titles in several romance sub-genres. Her writing is and will always be her ultimate adventure and escape.

  Jo-Anne is married to her best friend, Brian. Her greatest honor will always be that she is Mom to her son Braydon and her late daughter, Zia. She has four fur babies that run the Joseph household.

  She’s also a corporate governance specialist.

  "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

  - Maya Angelou

  Also by Jo-Anne Joseph

  Dark Romantic Suspense

  Mariticide (Deliverance Series)

  Misandry (Deliverance Series)

  Inexorable (Cavalieri Della Morte Series)

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  Indolence

  Ally Vance

  Diligence

  Careful and persistent work or effort

  Blurb

  Sins, Sisterhood, and Temptation...in a life governed by seven heavenly virtues, Diligence is the virtue I repeatedly fail to uphold...sinning comes much more easily to me. They say that the devil finds work for idle hands, and I’m about to discover I can truly be diligent to my faith… if the temptation is sweet and innocent enough, and she is almost perfectly angelic and corruptible.

  Prologue

  Sister Emily

  My knees ache from being pressed against the cold, hard, slabs of the chapel floor. The prayers seem to be taking longer than usual to complete, and I find myself thinking longingly of spending the remainder of the day resting and indulging in the simple comfort of my room.

  With my head still bowed, I smile slyly to myself. Mother Superior, or Mother Bitch as I like to call her, would take a cane to my ass if she knew the thoughts I’m having, and rightly so, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I’m sure the Lord will punish me justly when I finally reach heaven’s gates.

  If I’m ever lucky enough to rise to a position of power, I look forward to enforcing the same kind of rigidity and rules as the current Mother Bitch. The novitiates will learn to accept the pain and will work harder to avoid it. Although in my case, having initially suffered through my punishments, I learned to tolerate the harsh crack of the thin strip of wood across my bare skin, and now I accept each beating with thanks. Spare the rod, spoil the child; that mantra has never cured the willingness inside my heart to lay the weight of responsibility on others. You can’t beat the devil out of the girl, and believe me, they have tried.

  I’m thankful for the long material of the habit; it grants me modesty in my moments of shame. I should report my sinful thoughts to Mother Bitch, but I enjoy the wickedness of them and the way they make me feel.

  As the final prayer draws to a close, I rise to my feet, closing my eyes briefly and stifling the moan at the feel of the rough undergarments brushing against my clit. The contrast between the abrasiveness of my underwear and the satin of my stockings on my skin makes my body hum. The stockings themselves are prohibited, but I couldn’t resist them. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a nibble from the forbidden fruit, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Only next time, I’m not going to be caught and punished for falling into the illicitness of sin.

  Chapter One

  I return to my room, keeping my head bowed and my eyes to the floor. I don’t hurry, because as much as the thought of spending the rest of the day relaxing is tempting me, I don’t want to seem too eager. Sometimes I wonder if Mother Bitch knows about my proclivity toward laziness. Maybe that’s why she’s so determined to force me to change my ways. Although why she feels I’d be any more inclined to work after a beating than I do now, I’ve no idea.

  Arriving back at my room, I enter and quietly shut the door behind me; this is my haven. I walk across the room while removing my habit and lie down on the small single bed pushed up against the wall. The soft mattress doesn’t quite mask the hardness of the wooden frame beneath it, but I don’t mind the discomfort, except when my bottom is already smarting from a beating. I enjoy the punishments: the swish as it cuts through the air, followed by the bite and sting of the wood on my ass. It’s only afterward, when I’m lying on this bed, I regret my transgressions.

  I know I should be more diligent in my duties and worship, and God knows I’ve been punished more times than I can count for my repeated failures. Sometimes, I wonder why I’ve not been stripped of my position in the same way as the skin on my backside has been, many times over. Maybe Mother Bitch has a sinner lurking within her too; she does seem to take great pleasure in doling out her punishments.

  Shaking my head, I pull the heavy woolen bedspread up and over my body. The softness of my skin and the coarseness of the blanket create a mind-blowing myriad of sensations. The feel of the material over my skin, brushing against my nipples combines with the ache already burning between my thighs from the underwear and makes me squirm. Smiling slyly, I run my fingers down my body, shivering at my own light touch despite the warmth flowing through me. Goosebumps mark the path of my hand, spreading outward over my skin.

  I slowly approach the forbidden fruit I’m not permitted to explore. Sin is rife within me, and I ignore the nagging voice of Mother Bitch in the back of my mind as I rub my fingers over my clit through the rough fabric of my underwear. I bite my lip to keep the moan from escaping, and press my fingers inside me as much as my clothing will allow.

  The material is soaked with my juices, and the heat radiating out from my core feels as though Lucifer himself has ignited the flames of desire within me…well, I suppose he has. I succumb to the need, and shift the undergarment aside, gasping when the material scratches against my clit. I sink my fingers inside me, plunging deeply, and my body responds to the illicit pleasure rippling through me. Angling my thumb up, I press against my clit while sliding my fingers in and out, aided by the slickness coating them.

  The closer I approach damnation with every rub, flick, and delve of my fingers, the greater my need to reach it. My pleasure slowly builds, created by the languid movements of my hands, and I know when I topple over th
e edge the intensity is going to be magnificent. I’m getting close; my breathing becomes harsh, and the pressure is mounting. My thighs and fingers are drenched, and my nipples are tight from the friction of the blanket. I arch my back, and as I finally reach the peak my muscles clench, and I’m overcome with pleasure.

  “Thank you, God!” I cry out. I’m unable to stop the words bursting from my lips.

  As I come down from the high, my body shakes and trembles with aftershocks, and I’m relieved I didn’t call out something else that could’ve landed me in trouble with Mother Bitch. My loud praise to God as the waves of sinful pleasure crested through my body could easily be misconstrued as religious fervor. I’ll let them believe that, even as the evidence of my devilish thoughts pools between my legs and dribbles down onto the mattress. Tiredness rears its head, and I quickly clean up and flip the mattress before returning to my bed to sleep.

  A cold draft followed by a sharp spank on my behind jerks me out of my slumber, and I look up blearily to see Sister Constance smirking down at me.

  “Get up, and put your habit back on before Mother Mary Margaret sees that bare ass and stockings and beats you bloody again,” she says with a grin and spanks me sharply again when I attempt to bury my face back into my pillow.

  “It’s Sunday, the day of rest,” I gripe at her, forcing myself upright and reaching for the habit.

  “Yes, but you know you’ll be in for it again if she catches you sleeping, especially if she sees those shiny satins of yours,” she smiles, sitting on the end of my bed, and I roll my eyes.

  Sister Constance isn’t bothered by my indecency, and I’ve occasionally wondered if she would be interested in a bit of fun. The problem is she’s too honest, and if we were ever caught, she’d probably confess at the drop of a hat. We’re friends, and nothing more. I shrug, and pull on the habit, securing it in place and making sure my stockinged legs are completely covered. She’s right, Mother Bitch would have a conniption if she saw me in these.

  Chapter Two

  The daily chores seem to drag on forever. The work is repetitive and although there’s pleasure in the familiarity of its almost rhythmic quality, it becomes tedious when I’m being assigned the same tasks day in, day out.

  At the end of the work day, having completed my chores, I approach Mother Bitch’s office. She wants to see me, but I’ve no idea why. My behind throbs at the memory of the last time I was here when she caught me sleeping through one of the Sunday services.

  Faith, another of the younger nuns, is sitting on the hard bench outside the door. Her demeanor always seems sweet, and she radiates an air of innocence I’ve never possessed...or at least, I don’t think I have. When I was twelve, my parents sent me away for correction. They dumped me on the convent doorstep and never looked back. I found a peace here that I never had with them, even though I don’t always fit in. I chose to dedicate my life to the Lord and took my vows as soon as I could. I’ve tried my best to follow the rules and structure of our lives here, but old habits die hard and I’ve never been able to leave all my proclivities behind.

  I’m from a good Catholic family, and the front I’ve worn for years fits like a glove. However, I’m anything but righteous, and when I’m alone, I’m free to peel away the facade. I’ve tried so hard to push aside and smother everything they’ve taught me is wrong, but I invariably fail. I shall never be the good girl my parents hoped I’d become when they abandoned me as a child.

  Faith pays me no mind apart from smiling in greeting before diving back into the book she’s holding. I check that my habit is straight and everything is in place before knocking. Mother Bitch makes me wait a further ten minutes before answering.

  Finally, she calls out, “Come in.”

  I grind my teeth, understanding the lesson of patience she was trying to impart, but after the long day I’ve just had, she’s lucky I didn’t fall asleep on the hard, wooden bench outside her door. It wouldn’t be the first time if I had.

  Initially, Mother Bitch thought there may be something medically wrong with me because I can and will sleep pretty much anywhere. She soon deduced, however, that I’m remarkably lazy for a nun, and concluded I needed to work harder on my diligence to my chores and our faith. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been punished for slacking in my duties, but the truth is my faith has never wavered, it’s simply that I’m more diligent to Him than to anything or anyone else in my life.

  “You’re a lazy, spoiled child, and you need to learn that the other nuns are not here to do your work. You will start to pull your weight, or you’ll feel the weight of my cane on your behind again, Sister Emily,” Mother Bitch chides me.

  It’s nothing I’ve not heard before. She’s always harping on about me slacking and not performing my duties to the expected standard.

  “Yes, Mother,” I say, injecting as much sincerity into my voice as I can muster, although it still sounds sarcastic even to my ears.

  “In an effort to corral your wickedness and the lack of care you demonstrate in attending to your duties, I’ve decided drastic measures must be taken,” she continues as though I didn’t snark at her.

  I can already feel the burn of the wood and the throbbing of my skin from the beating she’s no doubt planning to give me. I’ve occasionally wondered if she’ll ever tire of doling out her punishments, but the superior bitch gets off on the power she wields, lording it over us as though we should be worshiping Her instead of Him.

  “Sister Faith, come in!” Mother Bitch calls out.

  The door opens, and Faith enters the office.

  “Yes, Mother?” Faith inquires in a soft voice and quietly sits in the chair next to me.

  “I’ve decided that the two of you should be paired up for your duties. Sister Faith, you are a responsible and diligent young woman, so you should be a good influence on Sister Emily,” Mother Bitch announces, and I have to work to keep my expression composed.

  I force a smile on my face and nod as though in agreement when really I’m horrified that she’d suggest such a thing. I know I’m difficult, but I didn’t think I was bad enough to need this angelic-looking babysitter.

  “You’ll also share quarters. We have very little space as it is, so you aren’t the only ones who are going to find themselves having to share. Sister Emily, please wipe that look off your face. This is more of a reward than a punishment,” she scolds, no doubt catching my dismayed expression.

  “Yes, Mother,” I say through gritted teeth and a painfully awkward smile.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Sister Faith says in her chirpy voice, and I almost want to spank her.

  Now there’s an idea.

  Maybe this arrangement won’t be so bad after all.

  When I finally leave Mother Bitch’s office, I’m about ready to scream. Sister Faith and I couldn’t be more opposite. It was unpleasant sitting there while Mother Bitch continued to sing Sister Faith’s praises about how dedicated she is, and how she’ll be a good influence on me. If I'd died and gone to hell, it couldn’t have been a more unpleasant experience.

  I had to fight not to roll my eyes at her observations about everything she deems to be lacking in me and how beneficial this arrangement will be. In some ways I agree with her, but for very different reasons, I’m sure. It’ll be harder to notice my lack of diligence in my daily life if I’m constantly around Sister Faith who can do no wrong, and since ‘she’s so dedicated’, she’ll probably be willing to pick up my duties when I slack off.

  Chapter Three

  Sister Emily

  It’s been two weeks since Mother Bitch partnered me with Sister Faith and had her move into my room, and I’m already sick of my new roommate’s radiantly innocent presence. Mother Bitch would be horrified if she realized I’ve been speeding through my duties more than usual, finishing early so I can seek the privacy of my room without Faith’s presence.

  When Sister Faith is hanging around I behave myself, like a good little nun, but I’m su
re she’s not fooled by my act. I complete all of my chores, albeit to a less than satisfactory standard, and as far as she is aware, any time I’m not working is spent in prayer. She wouldn’t be entirely wrong in believing I was offering my fervent thanks to God, but I’m sure she’d be scandalized by the way I do it with my hands in my underwear and her face in my mind. Everything I’ve held back for years is rising to the surface, bursting at the seams of my faith and trying to break free. Sister Faith is the catalyst, bringing forth a forbidden attraction I’ve long been suppressing.

  “Chastity, Kindness, Patience, Temperance, Charity, Humility! All six of these heavenly virtues must be cherished, valued, and upheld. Do you understand me?” Mother Bitch states clearly to all the nuns present in her office, even though we know this already. “Sister Emily, pay attention!”

  She slaps the cane against her palm with a loud thwack, cutting off the mumbles and mutterings between some of the girls when they jump at the unexpected noise. However, the sharp sound of the wood in her palm is a welcome reminder to me of my pink backside currently glowing with the red stripes of punishment. I swallow back the groan of pleasure and refocus on the lesson going on in front of me.

  “Sister, aren’t there seven heavenly virtues?” a sweet, high voice pipes up.

  “Raise your hand if you wish to speak, girl!” Mother Bitch snaps.

  Flickering my gaze toward the interrupter, I’m surprised to see it’s Sister Faith.

  I’d never have pegged her for a troublemaker. Could it be that her angelic looks are deceiving? At Mother Bitch’s admonition, she blushes and falls silent, bowing her head in apology. Mother Bitch walks down the line of nuns to stand in front of her and lifts up her chin with the end of the cane. Sister Faith fidgets with her hands, looking like a deer caught in a set of headlights.