The Girls of Saint Dominick sChapter 3
- 4 years ago
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It was true that Tammy and Susan were a pair of troublemakers at Saint Dominick and they never missed an opportunity to find a secluded corner to show the visiting boys or men that they were both swift and agile in getting on their knees and taking care of business the old fashioned way with an open mouth. Most of the other girls suspected the pair were of limited moral character but kept their mouths shut in more ways than one without spilling the beans on either of them.
Sister Agnes had already confiscated their filthiest articles of undies and some items of dubious merit from their belongings and she had no intention of turning them in because she was curious to see how they looked on her in her private mirror. The sight of her sinning weakness of the flesh was a trial for her but she knew she would be forgiven just as long as she maintained an acceptable shield of proper behavior. It was important for her to be a good role model for the students at all times and give them inspiration to keep their legs crossed when the opposite sex was close at hand.
The pretty nun always locked her bottom drawer of the triple bureau in her small room. Her sins of the flesh were hidden in there like kinky clues to her alter ego. Before she had taken her vows of chastity and obedience, she had been a bit wild when it came to giving boys what they all wanted when it came to the opposite sex. Her father was a strict sort that was not hesitant to dish out some corporal punishment to teach her to keep her undies up unless she had to go to the ladies room. Needless to say, she was fully aware of the different varieties of sexual transgressions against either God or the Church and she made an effort to avoid them. When she failed, she was wise enough to hide the evidence and pretend innocence except to her confessor. Of course, her confessor was sworn to absolute secrecy according to the laws of the church and she was gratified beyond belief by that simple measure of concealment. Besides, he was a bit hard of hearing and half the time she thought he was merely going through the motions pretending he heard everything she related even though he only heard half of it and understood the extent of her terrible sins.
Sister Agnes had gotten distressingly obsessed with the process of accepting her spanking punishments to the point that she sometimes did something outrageous to trigger her father’s ire and he would yank down her panties and give her a taste of his thick black belt right across his lap like a balky child in need of correction. She did her best to hide her secret delight at being subjected to such humiliating treatment and would cry and sob continuously begging for forgiveness and promising to be “a good girl” forever in the future. Of course, it was all playing a role in her mind and she was already plotting her next downfall with a greedy need for tingling satisfaction.
It was the mother superior, Sister Imogene that saw and recognized her need for such foolishness and she was more than willing to discipline her new disciple with a vigor not often found in a female in her late sixties and crippled with arthritic hands. Almost every trip to the mother superior’s office was the scene of her degrading submission to the biting whip she kept displayed on the wall behind her desk to frighten new students into total obedience.
She decided to let her class out a few minutes early because too many of the girls were pleading for bathroom relief after drinking too much iced tea at lunchtime. These silly girls with their inability to hold their bladders for a duration of a single class was astonishing to her because she was raised in a house with one bathroom and seven children and her ability to “hold it” was an ever constant source of pride. In fact, she had need of similar relief and quickly headed to the teacher’s lounge to relieve her iron-plated bladder of the iced tea that was perfect for cleansing her urinary tract. Whilst sitting on the throne, she heard two of the non-clerical teaching staff come into the sanctuary and confide in gleeful amusement,
“Did you see Sister Agnes this morning? She must have been hitting the closet door dildo hard last night because she was walking a bit stiffly like her backside was battered beyond normal endurance.”
The thing that bothered Sister Agnes was that she had not used the closet door dildo for several weeks after an unfortunate incident that left her with the broken off end of the device inside her rectal channel and in need of a medical process to remove it from her person. Fortunately, she had a close friend that worked in the emergency room at Saint Vincent’s that took care of the entire thing. She was eternally grateful but was severely distressed over the fact that the young man was laughing the entire time. It was lesson she learned the hard way and after that she decided to chance random coitus with strange visitors in little encounters that were fraught with danger and excitement at being caught in the act by one of the other sisters certain to accuse her of breaking her vows.
Her last union of that nature was with the man that delivered the bottled water to the school hallways. He was quite muscular because the water bottles were heavy and difficult to change without assistance. She asked him to help her change a light bulb in the storage room and he followed her docilely wiping the sweat from his neck and face with a huge red bandanna. The color of the thing excited her in her most sensitive place between her legs and she pretended to climb the ladder to change the bulb but did it just as a ploy to hike her robes up and let the man see her perfectly shaped legs. He was a large man with a huge belly developed over the years from hard work and the consumption of quantities of draft beer. She screwed in the bulb and fell back into his arms landing on his belly with her backside almost uncovered and defenseless against his demands. He took the hint immediately and pulled down her regulation panties with his huge hands and took her without a single word to ask for permission. He was quite correct in his assumption that it was all on a promise ready to be consumed at his pleasure. She wilted and then bloomed again at her impalement whimpering helplessly in his strong hands. The man used her nubile body for a rather long time finally draining his manly liquids into her quim with a loud slap on her cheeks to thank her for her indulgence.
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Chapter Nine Hmmm, heaven was built on spicy Szechwan chicken. Michelle popped the last bite into her mouth and sat back on the couch, her hand on her flat stomach. She had changed clothing before sitting down with Nick and the food, putting on a pair of short black leggings and an oversized FBI tee shirt her brother had gotten for her when he went to Quantico for some training classes a few months ago. With her hair pulled up in a long blonde ponytail and no makeup, she looked all of ten...
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Detective Nicholas Saint stood in the bathroom of the Lapeer County Sheriff's station, hands gripping one of the three sinks lining one wall, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary, evidence of too much Jack Daniels and too many sleepless nights. His hair was mussed from running his hands through the thick black strands in frustration. He grimaced at the sour taste of cigarettes and over cooked coffee in his mouth. This was too much. He had come home to the...
Those words came to haunt Nick. No identification on either of the victims. They had managed to get fingerprints on victim one. She wasn't in any system that Nick had available to him, including AFIS, the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. So, whoever she was, she didn't have a record and had never been fingerprinted. It had been impossible to fingerprint victim two. The decomposition had been too devastating, animals had destroyed what the killer hadn't. Dental records weren't...
Michelle pulled her seatbelt a little tighter, not caring if Nick saw it or not. The man drove like a maniac. She had felt safer being in a car with Sam, even though the man was a pervert and lazy as hell. She felt her stomach tighten as the light in front of them turned yellow and he sped up, going through it just as it turned red. "Is this your way of trying to back out?" she asked him through gritted teeth. Nick looked over at her, sitting stiffly in the low slung passenger bucket seat...
The team from the crime lab was still hard at work when Michelle got back to the victim's apartment. They, for the most part, ignored her as she stood in the doorway watching them work. Pictures were being taken, evidence cataloged, fingerprint powder spread over every conceivable surface. The victim's bedroom was dark except for a bright blue spotlight that was slowly going over the surface of the bed. It was amazing to watch. Each member of the team seemed to know exactly what their job...
Hmmm, heaven was built on spicy Szechwan chicken. Michelle popped the last bite into her mouth and sat back on the couch, her hand on her flat stomach. She had changed clothing before sitting down with Nick and the food, putting on a pair of short black leggings and an oversized FBI tee shirt her brother had gotten for her when he went to Quantico for some training classes a few months ago. With her hair pulled up in a long blonde ponytail and no makeup, she looked all of ten years...
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They're putting together a task force, he thought as he rubbed his hands together, almost giggling in delight. A task force in his honor. It was almost like getting an academy award. He did giggle then, thinking about standing at a podium, Nick Saint handing him the head of a dead girl as a trophy. Too delicious. He was down in his laboratory, what he called the underground room where he kept his research. His latest case file was open in front of him letting him relive every glorious...
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To Michelle, morning had seemed hours ago. Her eyes burned and her head ached but she kept at it, sitting in front of a computer at the task force headquarters. She was inputting what new information they had on the victims, cross referencing for any similarities that might come up, a job Nick had asked her to do. So far they had nothing, but part of police work was getting into the little details. Sometimes the biggest clue they could have would come out of the littlest of details. So she...