Latex Futa Nuns From Hell

Story 1: The Gift
  • Story 1: The Gift
  • Story 2: The Subjugation Of Father Francis
  • Story 3: Seeding The Sisterhood
  • Story 4: The Fall Of St. Michael's
  • Story 5: A New Order
  • Story 6: Queen Takes Rook
  • Story 7: The Daughters Of Lilith
  • 10 months ago
  • 244 min read
  • 317,378 views

It was the hour of the wolf and Sister Jessica Felicita was troubled. She had been awake in bed for at least an hour reliving a particular event from the previous day and contemplating her life. Regret and anxiety had taken hold and no amount of prayer was getting her back to sleep. Frustrated, she tossed the thin blanket off her body and slid off the bed into the muggy Austin air of midsummer. The rays of a full moon beamed through her window, illuminating her ample curves through the gossamer nightgown she was wearing. She crossed the sparsely decorated dorm to the bathroom and flipped on the light.

Jessica ran the cold water and splashed some on her face before gazing into the mirror. What stared back was an image she'd grown tired of. A woman quickly approaching mid-life as the first creases and wrinkles of age began forming on her lovely bronze skin. Flowing locks of beautiful brunette hair that were hidden under a veil day by day. Piercing reddish-brown eyes that brimmed with curiosity and intellect, but also betrayed an unfathomable sadness. Full, pouty lips that had not known the touch of a man since she was twenty.

She was taller than most Latinas at 5'10. Taller than almost all of the women at the Sisters of Guadalupe. Her parents, hard working immigrants both, had died in a car crash when she was fourteen and the convent had raised her from there. Her unassuming father and stern mother had both been people of devout religious conviction and she had not wanted to disappoint them or the Sisters who had graciously raised her. In honor of their memory she had undergone the lengthy process to be confirmed as a nun much younger than most. It was a decision that weighed on her more heavily with each passing year as the world grew more monstrous, her faith wilted and the specters of what might have been haunted her private moments.

Jessica turned the light off and crossed the room once more, her curvy figure cutting a striking silhouette against the pale moonlight. She slipped into bed and pulled the cover back over her body. She settled into the old, worn mattress and attempted, in vain, to get back to sleep. Her frenzied mind would have none of it. The same scene that she'd been fixated on all night replayed in her mind for the umpteenth time.

The Sisters, Father Francis and other members of the church had been at a fund-raising event downtown. They had setup a bake sale on the main drag and it had proceeded much like any bake sale until about noon. Whether it was a miss-communication or no one at the church had bothered to check the city's itinerary, they were all taken aback as a loud, enthusiastic pride parade had marched down the street in full view of the astonished clergy. It would have been impossible to pack up all their baked goods, decorations, bible tracts and tables to flee the scene before the parade made its way past them. So they stood there; many averting their gaze, several gawking in horror and disbelief and Jessica soaking it all in. It was all she could do not to lick her lips or touch herself.

The tapestry of kink that unfurled before her was a spectrum of curiosities her sheltered mind could never have imagined. Women in fairy costumes. People wearing nothing but feathers and beads. Others dressed as ponies or covered head to toe in fur suits. Jessica had never been to Mardi Gras, but she imagined it must have been something like this.

What caught her attention most of all were the parade goers in leather and latex. Studded leather bondage harnesses. Full body gimp suits and cat suits. Masters and Mistresses in gleaming rubber leading their obedient slaves by the chain through the streets. This, Jessica was tangentially more familiar with, for she had harbored hidden desires for many years. She had fed those desires whenever she could with a stray magazine article, internet search or book that slipped below the convent's radar. She would always confess in an attempt to purge her mind, yet the sinful thoughts returned each time without fail.

Saying that the BDSM kinksters caught her attention wasn't quite accurate. Jessica was fixated. She felt a deep longing within her as she watched those cheerful people march through the streets and flaunt their style, playfulness and sexuality. It felt like she had been trudging through a desert for decades and had finally arrived at the oasis. She couldn't stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. Nor of the wasted time and lost possibilities that her life now represented.

Her body was warm and it wasn't just the summer heat. The thin layer of perspiration and the clamminess throughout her body was a product of something more. The increase in her heart rate could not be attributed to physical activity. She was needy and the more she thought about the parade, the more her right hand inched down her torso.

Jessica's youthful indoctrination had kicked in several times that night already.

'This is wrong.'

'This is sinful.'

'You aren't supposed to want these things.'

It had activated the same way the first time she fantasized about a boy and discovered how moist she was below. The first time she had kissed one. Every time, as a young woman, that she had worn a skirt that wasn't long enough for the Sisters liking or makeup that made her look “like a hussy.”

She was so sick of it all. Sick of the shame and guilt. Sick of the ancient texts, pointless rituals and thankless menial labor dominating her life. Sick of powerful men lying and looking down on her. Sick of being denied one of life's simplest pleasures.

Jessica closed her eyes and envisioned one of the young men from the parade. She hadn't seen his face thanks to the rubber mask he'd been wearing, but he was tall, fit and covered in clinging black latex. She began circling the outer lips of her hungry sex as she imagined him as her property. Someone who wanted her stern affections as much as she wanted to give them. Som

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Written by James Bondage
Uploaded November 28, 2020
Notes A horny, despondent nun is granted a second chance by a supernatural being. The world would never be the same again.
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