Nympho Nuns in Bondage

When I was a girl I used to believe a banshee lived at the bottom of my garden. She didn’t scream at night though. In gaelic a banshee just means a fairy woman - no more no less. The screaming story came about because some clan had a tradition that the death of the clan chief would be greeted by the keening of a fairy woman - a banshee - instead of the keening of human women such as the rest of us had to make do with.

My grandmother was a professional keener and was in much demand at funerals for miles around. She, it was, who told me the banshee lived at the bottom of our garden. We had a house on the edge of town - a funny corner plot - and down at the end of the garden was a fairy ring - a ring of boulders around a bunch of five boulders. This is not uncommon in that part of Ireland - I know twenty others like it - but none of my class mates had one.

They have survived this long (I heard a expert on the radio recently saying they may be 5000 years old) because people round here are superstitious about damaging them. They are home to the wee folk, the people who lived here before the celts, before St Patrick, the shee.

Just beyond the fairy ring, over the fence was the border. The line separating Northern Ireland from the Republic of Ireland. In those days no one seemed to pay much attention to it. The only fence was to keep our neighbours cows from eating our grass and we crossed the border a dozen times a day.

In my imagination this fairy woman would come to me at night wearing diaphanous see through clothes, such as no Christian would wear, and she would make love to me. I would lie in my bed and finger my clit and imagine her before me her hair down to her waist, her breasts visible through the silks, her face impossibly beautiful, gentle and kind. I didn’t even imagine her touching me - the thought never occurred to me - then.

As I grew older I had little interest in boys and so, in the way that was common in those days, I joined the convent and became a nun. Lesbian nuns were common then and still are. Many are celibate and sublimate their feeling in ‘passionate friendships’ with their sisters. I never quite had that romantic ‘lurve’. My sexlife was a bit more physical and discrete and over the years I have had enough to keep me satisfied and have avoided adventures, until now.

Last year the order sent me back, after years away, to run a house in a little back street of a little northern town. We were a small group, just five of us, running a halfway house for released mental patients. When Sister Mary’s mother died I was selected to accompany her south to the funeral. The others said we complemented each other perfectly. She young, buxom, enthusiastic; I old, thin and acid. Sometimes my sisters can be malicious. Sister Mary’s love of God is boundless and tiring. I doubted she would last six months.

After the funeral we set off back and when she heard we were passing through my home town she insisted we should call in at my old home. My family haven’t lived there for years and when a surly young man answered the door I was all for leaving but Mary insisted and pushed in past him explaining while I followed her appologising. She pushed into the kitchen and stopped. Four young men were sitting around the kitchen table assembling a bomb.

They stared. We stared. "What the fuck?" exclaimed one and grabbed a gun and pointed it at us. "Paddy you shit for brains. What are they doing here?"

"Uh. Well. She just pushed in" explained the door man.

"You fucking eejit. What are we going to do with them? The patrol will be here in an hour."

"Stop that." said the oldest one. "Yelling won’t help. We’ve got to keep calm. You two take them upstairs and tie them up. Make sure they can’t get away."

The other two grabbed us and pushed us up the stairs to the back bedroom. and tied us to two chairs. We were in my old bedroom - looking out over the fairy ring. The view had hardly changed - however beyond the fence there was now a track and in the middle of the fairy ring was a hole into which I could see the boys from downstairs putting sacks of something.

"When that lot goes up the rocks will go straight through them" boasted the young one.

These boys were tense as violin strings. I knew I had to do something to to calm the situation.

Mary unfortunately decided to go into hysterics."Oh No. They’re going to kill us. Oh mother of god. What will we do" .

"Sister" I said in my most commanding tone. "Stop that at once. If we are to die then you would do well to compose your soul. Quietly”

"Yes sister" she said meekly and shut up. Habits of obedience run deep in novices.

I turned my attention to the men. The young one could barely sit still or keep quiet. The older one sat and hardly moved a muscle. He had a tattoo I recognised - you see a lot of things in a lifetime working with mental patients. He had served in the French Foreign Legion. He was the dangerous one.

"They’re passing us now. ETA thirty minutes" said their radio.

The night was drawing in. The time was drawing closer. Soon the Broitish Army patrol would pass, the bomb would go off and the young soldiers would be killed with Mary and myself probably following soon after and there was nothing we could do to stop it.

It was nearly dark now. No one had said a word for five minutes. Sister Mary fell silent and I looked over at her. The light from the window was shining on her and it was as if she was glowing. Her clothes were clinging to her like a second skin where the ropes tieing her had pulled them tight. I felt a twinge in my pussy as I watched her squirm. I was transfixed by the sight. She was the banshee of my childhood dreams!

The men were staring at her now.

"Please" she said. "Help me" her voice sounded hoarse. "The ropes. They’re too tight" Her nipples were sticking out through shirt now.

The men moved to her as if hypnotised and untied her. As soon as her hands were free she started pulling at the ropes round her chest pulling them off and her shirt off with them. As her bosom came into view the men grabbed a boob each and suckled them. The older man had his hand in her knickers, his fingers rubbing her clit, the tip of his middle finger entering her pussy.

She fell back on the bed and pulled them down after her. She was scrabbling at the younger mans fly frantically pulling at the zip, at his underpants, at his prick.

The older man had his dick out now and had it lined up with her pussy when her lags snaked round his hips and pulled him into her. The young man she pulled to her so she could suck his dick. She was squeezing and pulling on one breast with her hand while the young man did the same to her other. She took her other hand off his dick and snaked it down to diddle her clit.

This spectacle was the most arrousing thing I had ever seen. I felt like I was on fire. Watching her beautiful young body writhing in pleasure while was tied in the chair so I could not move a muscle. I strained against my bonds feeling the ropes cut into me.

I was almost mad with excitment. I finally got free when I managed to knock the chair over, breaking the chair back off. The threesome on the bed didn’t even notice the noise.

I grabbed the radio from the floor and hit the older one over the head as hard as I could, determined to revenge myself on this dick who was ravaging what should be only for me. I got the young one a moment later and I was in Mary’s arms, kissing her, caressing her tits, putting my fingers in her pussy while she wrapped her arms and legs around me and hugged me to her rubbing herself against me till she came sobbing to orgasm.

After that we suddenly came to ourselves as if waking from a dream. We got dressed, escaped through the front bedroom window (I knew from years ago how to climb down safely) and phoned for help. The army patrol didn’t pass that way that night and the bomb wasn’t detonated.

Mary and I never spoke of what happened that night indeed she would never after that look me in the face. She left the order soon after. I never did get the chance to tell her about the banshee who lived at the bottom of my garden and the lengths she had gone to to protect her home.