Exile
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 

 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to 
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has been 
reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I 
kept during these years. 
 
This is a sequel to _Wanderings_, which can be found on my asstr.org site:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/wander/index.html


 

Chapter Seven - Discipline (Ff mf Mm MMf teen mast oral)



When I woke up, Manny and Billy were both gone.  Chris was lying next to 
me, snuggled against my back.  The sun was just coming up, filling the 
room with an orange glow.  I rolled over and kissed Chris on his 
forehead, gently waking him up by caressing his angelic face.  He opened 
his eyes and smiled up at me.

After he helped me drag the mattress back onto the bed, I sent him back 
to his room and went back to sleep until the sound of footsteps in the 
hall and doors opening and closing -- the usual sounds of the shelter 
waking up in the morning -- roused me from my slumber.

Breakfast was different that morning.  Something had changed.  As I sat 
down to eat with Billy, Manny, and Chris, other boys would greet me with 
a cheerful "Hi, Annie," or "Good morning Annie.  I barely knew any of 
their names, and wondered why the ice had suddenly been broken.

Since it was Saturday, there were no classes, just chores to be done.  
After breakfast, I went downstairs to the laundry room in the basement 
where a pile of dirty clothes awaited me.  Sister Katherine was there, 
doing some of her own clothes.  I quietly closed the door behind me and 
came up behind her, slipping my hands around her waist and gently pulled 
aside the back of her wimple, kissing the nape of her neck.

"Annie," she gasped.  "Someone might see us."

"It's okay, the door's closed," I said.  She turned around in my arms 
and kissed me on the lips, her hands on my hips, pulling me closer to 
her.

"I missed you," she whispered.  "I thought about you all week."

"I missed you, too," I said.  "Can I see you later?"

"I have to start lunch.  Maybe this afternoon."

"Okay," I said, kissing her soft lips again.  "Until then?"

"Annie, I..."  She wanted to say something but stopped.

"Shhhh...I know," I said.  "I know."  We kissed again and then she 
started to leave.

"Sister?" I asked her, just as she put her hand on the doorknob.

"Yes, Annie?"

"Could you unlock the storage room for me?  I need to mend a few 
things."  One of the straps on my chemise was coming off, probably from 
that night when I'd slept with Billy, and the little pink dress Father 
Ken had given me, the one that was way too small, had begun to split at 
the seams.

"Of course, Annie," she said.  "I'll do that right now.  Just lock it up 
when you're through.

"Thank you," I said.  She smiled and left the laundry room.  I put a 
load into the washer and went back upstairs to my room to get the 
clothes I needed to mend.

I was about to head back downstairs when I had a naughty thought.  I was 
looking forward to using the old sewing machine again and feel the 
delicious tension that would form between my legs from using the foot 
treadle.  I reached under my bed, inside the boxspring where I hid 
things, and pulled out the little vibrator I'd bought earlier that week.  
Wrapping my clothes around it, I headed back down to the basement.  
Sister Katherine had already unlocked the storage room, and I went 
inside after I checked on the load of laundry.

There was a new batch of clothes on the donation pile, and I dug through 
it for a while, looking for girls' and women's items.  Except for a 
lace-edged nylon half slip, it was all boys' clothes.  I hiked up my 
long peasant skirt and tried on the slip.  It was a little loose around 
the waist, but I could easily take that in.  I draped it over the chair 
behind the sewing machine and unwrapped the little vibrator from within 
the chemise and the pink sundress.

Lying down on the donated clothes pile, I hiked my skirt up again and 
pulled my panties down around my thighs.  Parting my labia with one 
hand, I brought the tip of the vibrator up to my lips with the other, 
licking the pink rubber glans until it glistened.  Then I slowly 
inserted it into my cunny, which was moist with anticipation, slowly 
sliding it in until only the knurled knob at the end was exposed.  I 
pulled my panties back up, sat down behind the sewing machine, and began 
to work on the loose strap on my chemise.

As I began to work the treadle, the rubber phallus inside me accentuated 
the delicious friction I felt each time my thighs pressed together.  
Repairing the strap went too quickly, so I decided to reinforce the 
other strap, just in case.  I had to pause when I was done, in order to 
replace the spool of brown thread with a spool of pink, but as I mended 
the side seams of the little pink sundress the wonderful feeling 
returned.

All that was left was the slip, and after finding some cream colored 
thread that matched the ivory nylon, I reached into my panties and 
twisted the knob at the end of the vibrator, its gentle purring sending 
waves of pleasure through my belly.  By the time I'd finished altering 
the waistband of the slip, I was tantalizingly close to coming.  I 
wanted to finish myself off right then and there, but I had another load 
of laundry to take care of before lunch.  Getting up from the sewing 
machine, I hoisted my skirt and lowered my panties, turning the vibrator 
off and removing it.  The top edge of the rubber glans dragged over that 
sensitive spot on the roof of my vaginal walls, making me shudder as I 
pulled the phallus out of my pussy.  It glistened with my juices in the 
dim light of the storage room.  I gave it a little lick, just a taste, 
and wiped it off with the crotch of my panties before I pulled them back 
up my thighs.

Wrapping the vibrator in my camisole, I left the storage space to go 
attend to the next load of dirty clothes.  It took just a few minutes to 
transfer the last load to the dryer and put a new load into the washing 
machine.  This batch was all boys' underwear, t-shirts, and socks, a 
pungent pile that seemed more like compost than laundry.  For a moment I 
thought about tying a scented dryer sheet to my face like a surgical 
mask, but I just held my breath and loaded the washer, adding as much 
detergent as I could.

I still had to try on the slip I altered, so I headed back to the 
storage room.  I wanted to dig through the donation pile, too, hoping to 
find the rest of the clothes that I'd brought with me from Maine, a 
Miami Dolphins t-shirt that used to be Del's and a pair of panties from 
a set that Julia had bought me during one of her trips to Boston.  I 
opened the steel-clad door.

Sister Katherine was standing next to the sewing machine, my vibrator in 
her hand, her expression frozen in a combination of surprise and lust.  
The tip of the rubber penis was barely an inch from her nose, as if 
she'd been sniffing it when I walked into the room.

"Anne!"

"Sister?"

"Where ever did you get this thing?" she said, trying to sound 
authoritative but too flustered to keep her voice from cracking.

"I bought it, Sister.  At a bookstore downtown.  I'm sorry," I said, 
feeling my shame burning on my face.  It wasn't that I was ashamed of 
myself for owning a sex toy.  I was ashamed that Sister Katherine saw 
it, that she'd think less of me, that I needed something she couldn't 
give me.  It was a tangible representation of my sexuality, of my needs.  
Her needs were still buried within her, a secret life with no physical 
record, just a series of stolen kisses and quick embraces, not even a 
wet spot on a bed sheet until a week ago.

"Annie," she said, her composure back again, her face wearing the same 
neutral mask I'd seen before we slept together.  Just a little over an 
hour ago, she seemed to be on the verge of confessing her love for me.  
Now she seemed a million miles away.

"Sister, I'm sorry," I repeated, looking down at my feet.

Sister Katherine took three brisk steps over to me and held the vibrator 
in my face, glaring at me.  I never knew brown eyes could look so cold.

"Show me how you abuse yourself with this...this thing," she said.

"Sister, I..."

"Show me."

We looked at each other for a moment and then I took the vibrator from 
her, stepping out of my skirt and lying down on the pile.  Sister 
Katherine came closer and stood over me, watching as I twisted the base 
of the vibe, making it purr in my hand, and began to rub it over my the 
crotch of my panties, pressing it against my cotton-clad cleft.

"I wanted to look at your pretty nightgown, and I found...that...wrapped 
in it," Sister Katherine said, watching as I rubbed the vibrator over my 
mound.

"But Sister..."  Normally, the vibrations would have me squirming, but 
the icy feeling in my stomach seemed to block anything pleasurable.  
Besides, I was on the verge of tears.

"Take those off," she said, pointing to my panties.  "Show me how you 
gratify yourself."

The edge of lust was back in her voice when she said that, and I 
suddenly remembered the time that I asked Julia to tie me to the bed, to 
dominate me.  It was the night we read "The Story of O" together, the 
night we lugged that old trunk filled with corsets and restraints up 
from her basement, the night she held me on the edge of my climax for so 
long that when I did come I passed out cold.  Julia had to revive me 
with old fashioned smelling salts, and she'd admitted that she was about 
to call an ambulance for me.

That's when it clicked.  Even though Julia hadn't said a word from the 
time she cuffed the restraints around my wrists and ankles and 
blindfolded me until after she revived me, she'd probably sound just 
like Sister Katherine did right now; her face would have had the same 
stern visage.

The icy ball in my stomach began to melt as I realized that I wasn't 
being punished, not for real, at least.  Sister Katherine wanted me to 
submit to her.  Underneath that spare grey dress she was wearing, 
somewhere between her legs, a fire was burning, the same heat I now felt 
between my legs.  I put the vibrator aside and began to pull my panties 
down my thighs, feeling her eyes on my cleft.  I pulled my panties off 
of my legs, letting them dangle from my ankle, parted my thighs, and 
picked up the purring vibrator again.

"Show me your sex," Sister Katherine ordered.  I reached down and parted 
my lips, letting her see the moisture that was beginning to flow.  I 
licked the tip of the vibe and brought it down to my flower, running it 
up over my clit and down to the entrance of my hole.  As the tip 
penetrated me, I arched my back and gasped, the feelings I'd had while 
using the sewing machine returning tenfold.  As the purring shaft 
disappeared inside me, I began to circle my clit with a wet fingertip, 
teasing my little button, never touching it directly.

Sister Katherine stood at my feet, her hands on her hips as she watched 
me plunge the vibrator into my hungry hole and pull it out, only to push 
the glistening shaft back inside.  I pulled up my sweater, taking my 
finger off my clit and bringing it up to my nipple, circling it as I had 
with my pearl and then pinching it, letting a brief bit of pain mix with 
the pleasure.

"You will wear a bra at all times while you are living here," Sister 
Katherine said.  "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sister...I'm sorry...," I moaned.  I pinched my nipple again as my 
climax began to approach, partially to punish myself for letting my 
breasts go unharnessed, partially to delay my release for a minute or 
two.  I pinched my other nipple for good measure and then returned to my 
clit, tracing a circle around it with my fingertip.

I began to fuck myself faster, pumping the vibrator in and out of my 
hole, and touching my clit directly for the first time since I pulled my 
panties down for Sister Katherine.  The fire began to build in my belly, 
the heat radiating through my body and down my limbs.  I let out a 
series of little gasps and my legs began to quiver as my climax 
approached.  Sister Katherine stood like a statue between my feet, 
staring at me as I began to shudder.  I thought about the night we spent 
together, her small breasts and bony hips, her hairy bush, her ruby 
lips, her swollen clit, how she bit her lip when she came, the taste of 
blood when we kissed.  Her arms around me, the smell of her shampoo.  
And then I came.

I closed my eyes, not to pretend that she wasn't there, but because I 
wanted to see the stars again, the bright sparkles on a deep blue field.  
I was not disappointed.  My fingers danced over my clit as I thrust the 
vibrator deep inside me, the purring of the toy almost visible behind my 
eyelids, a great explosion of concentric circles of gold and silver on a 
blood red background.  I felt a spasm of pleasure between my legs that 
expanded, a wave that traveled through my pelvis, my belly, my thighs, 
curling my toes and nearly paralyzing my hands.  When I stopped 
fingering my clit and plunging myself with the vibrator, the colors 
faded to a greyish brown and then black.  My thighs relaxed, my bottom 
unclenched.  I let out a deep breath and slowly pulled the vibrator from 
my pussy, twisting the base and stopping its gentle purring.  I lay on 
the pile of clothes, spent, exhausted.

I opened my eyes again.  Sister Katherine was still standing there, 
still looking at me with her face set in a mask.  At that moment I 
wanted nothing more than to see her face soften, to have her lie with 
me, to hold me, hug me, kiss me, to tell me that I was a good girl.  To 
tell me that she loved me.

"Sister Katherine...," I whispered, unable to put my desires into words.  
She looked at me for a second and turned on her heel, walking out of the 
storage room and slamming the door behind her.  That cold feeling in the 
pit of my stomach returned.

"Sister!" I called out after her.  Only the stone walls of the room 
heard me.

"Sister," I whispered again.  And then the tears started.  I lay there 
on the pile of clothes, sobbing into an old, smelly t-shirt someone had 
donated.  I hadn't realized the depth of my feelings for her.  I wanted 
her to love me; maybe I wanted to love her, too.

I let the tears flow, letting it all out, weeping for my sad little 
Chris, for Julia, for Ramon, for Paco and Del, even for old Father John 
and his lost Tommy, weeping for all the pain and sorrow in the world.  I 
wept until no more tears would flow.

Somehow, I summoned the energy to pull my panties up and put my skirt 
back on.  I folded my clothes, the chemise, the dress, the slip I still 
hadn't tried on, and slipped the vibrator into the bundle, leaving the 
storage room and locking it behind me.  The last load of laundry wasn't 
done yet, so I headed upstairs to put my things away and lie down on my 
bed for a while.

A while turned out to be a couple of hours, as I fell asleep while I was 
just resting my eyes.  I hurried back downstairs and managed to finish 
doing the laundry just before dinner was served.  Sitting next to Billy 
and Manny, I ate my dinner without saying a word.  Manny looked at me 
strangely, as if he thought I was mad at him about something.  I tried 
to smile.

After dinner, I was heading back upstairs when I heard someone running 
up the stairs after me.  I stopped and turned to look.  It was Manny.

"Annie," he said, sounding somewhat out of breath.  "Annie, what's 
wrong?"

"I...I really can't tell you," I said.  I didn't want to tell him about 
Sister Katherine and I.

"C'mon, Annie," he said, moving closer, wrapping his hands around my 
waist.

"It's not you, Manny," I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.  Sharing 
an embrace in the hallway was sort of dangerous, but I needed the 
closeness.

"Father Ken?  Did he...?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," I said, kissing him on the chin.  "I'm 
okay, really."

"You sure?"

"I'm okay," I repeated.  "Maybe I'll see you later."  I kissed him 
again, this time on the lips, and pulled away from his arms, heading up 
to my room.  Normally, I'd be eager to crawl into bed with Manny, but I 
needed to be alone for a while, to write in my journal and sort out my 
feelings.

I did just that, filling two pages in my notebook.  It felt good to 
write it all down, almost cathartic.  Afterwards, I smoked some of my 
pot and took my last Valium.  I'd have to get some more from Father Ken.  
In a pleasant haze, I lay on my bed and thought about Sister Katherine, 
imagining her in a full-length black nuns' habit instead of the 
utilitarian grey dress and wimple she always wore, making the sign of 
the cross and then embracing me, drawing me into the deep folds of her 
long garment, enveloping me, pulling me inside.  I imagined her naked 
underneath, our breasts pressing together, her soft lips on mine.

I snapped out of my reverie, put my shoes back on, and went downstairs.  
The boys were all watching sports in the common room.  I walked past 
them and stood in front of Sister Katherine's door, hesitating just as I 
was about to knock.  A muffled cry came from behind the door, something 
between pain and pleasure.  The bed squeaked once and then there was 
silence.  I was about to leave when I heard another sound, a painful 
moan.  I knocked on the door, once, then twice.

"Hold on," I heard a voice call out.  "Who is it?"

"Sister?  It's Annie," I said.  "I can come back later if..."

The door opened.  Sister Katherine stood there, her hair a mess, one 
hand inside her bathrobe and the other crossed over her breasts, holding 
the robe closed.  She had a pained expression on her face and her cheeks 
were drained of color.

"Sister!  What happened?  What's wrong?" I asked, closing the door 
behind me.  I took her by the arm and led her back to her bed.  She sat 
down slowly, her robe opening as she settled on to the edge of the bed.  
Sister Katherine was holding a bloody wad of tissues between her legs.

"Your period?" I asked, putting my hand on her forehead to see if she 
had a fever.  That whole toxic shock syndrome thing had been in the news 
a year or so earlier, and that was the first thing that came to my mind.  
Her skin was cool, almost clammy.

"No, no...I...I tried to...," she stammered, looking over at something 
in the middle of her bed.  It was a container of deodorant, the kind 
that came in a long, round pump dispenser that sort of looked like a 
vibrator or something.  The brand had a cutesy name like "Tingle", and 
it sort of made you wonder exactly what they were selling.  The 
pearlescent plastic container had a streak of fresh blood on the bulbous 
cap.

"I tried to do...what you did this afternoon...with that...thing," 
Sister Katherine said, her tears flowing now.  I held her in my arms, 
rocking her like I rocked Chris when he cried, kissing the salty trails 
that crossed her cheeks.  Reaching for more tissues, I gently dried her 
eyes and kissed her.

"It hurts?"

"Yes," she whispered.  She reached for the box of tissues, pulling out 
about a dozen and wadding them up, replacing the blood-soaked tissues 
between her legs.

"I'll be right back," I said, giving her another kiss before heading 
upstairs to my room.  I grabbed my last Dilaudid and stopped off in the 
bathroom to get a towel and a wet washcloth before returning to Sister 
Katherine's room.  She was lying on her back, still holding the wad of 
tissues to her bleeding sex.  I put down the towel and washcloth and 
broke the pill in half with my thumbnail, giving her one of the pieces.

"Take this," I said.  "You'll feel better."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just a painkiller.  Just half.  Take it," I urged.  She accepted the 
piece from me and washed it down with a sip of water.  As she lay back 
on the bed and closed her eyes, I took the other half, washing it down 
with just my own saliva.  Then I sat next to her on the bed and gently 
pulled her hand from between her legs.

"Let me see," I whispered.  "How bad is it?"  The bleeding from her torn 
hymen had stopped, but her labia and pubic hair were matted with blood.  
I gently cleaned her with the wet washcloth and dried her with the 
towel.  The pill must have just started to kick in, and by the time I 
was finished cleaning her bloody pussy her pained expression had 
vanished, replaced by a faint smile.  I scooted up in bed and lay next 
to her, kissing her cheek and watching the color return to her face.

"Still hurt?" I asked her.

"No, it's nice now," she said.  "Good pill."  Sister Katherine sounded 
almost drunk.  She looked to me like the type of person who never drank 
or took a drug in her life.  That half of a Dilaudid must have hit her 
hard.

"That look on your face," she said.  "I wanted to feel that.  Would you 
use it on me?  That thing?"  She still couldn't say the word "vibrator".

"Not now, not tonight," I said.  "Let it heal.  A few days."

"I was compulsive when I was younger," Sister Katherine confessed.  "I 
masturbated all the time, everywhere, even in public.  It embarrassed my 
family so.  Sometimes I wonder if that's why my button is so big."

I lay down next to her, gently rubbing her tummy, listening to her talk 
about her childhood, her adolescence, her years in the seminary.  Sister 
Katherine's speech began to get slower, her sentenced began to trail off 
into just phrases, fragments, words.

"Make love...Annie...kiss," she whispered, looking up at me, her eyes 
welling up with tears again.  I kissed her soft lips, her lazy tongue 
meeting mine as my hand roamed up from her belly, cupping her small 
breasts.  She began to softly moan as I brought one of her nipples to my 
lips, gently circling it with my tongue, making it stiffen and crinkle.

"Annie...love...I love...," she moaned, as my lips traveled lower, over 
her belly and stopping at the top of her unruly bush.  I looked up at 
her for a moment.  She looked back at me and nodded, her fingers 
trailing through my hair, a look of hunger in her heavily-lidded eyes.  
I pulled the towel away from her sex and parted her thighs, kissing one 
and then the other as I curled between them.

"Annie...this afternoon...I'm sorry...so sorry," Sister Katherine 
whispered.

"Shhh...," I replied, kissing her sex, dipping my tongue between her 
labia.  The iron taste of blood lingered within her cleft, a reminder of 
a hurt that pills and wet washcloths couldn't banish.  With my soft, 
wet, warm tongue, I began to wash away her pain.

"Annie...I...ungh!"  Sister Katherine winced just as my tongue made 
contact with her swollen clit, her body tensing and her pelvis twisting 
as I touched her sensitive button.

"Did that hurt?" I asked.

"No, no, keep going," she said, emerging from her haze for a moment only 
to retreat again, her body and limbs relaxing once more, a deep sigh 
passing her lips.  I licked a circle around her clit, brushing against 
the underside with my tongue, making her shudder anew.  As I ravished 
her tender bud, Sister Katherine began to breathe heavily, her hands 
slowly moving to her breasts, touching them as if for the first time, 
kneading, squeezing.  I sucked my lips around her clit as if it was the 
tip of a little cock, lashing it with my tongue, making her gasp, tense, 
relax, tense, gasp again, and finally cry out, a low, keening moan as 
her bottom rose off of the bed.  Her thighs quivered as she pressed 
against my lips, urging me to help her climb her summit of pleasure.  I 
cupped her bottom in my hands and assaulted her sex with lips and tongue 
until she could take no more.

"Annie..." she gasped as she settled back on the bed.  "Annie..."

"Shhh..." I whispered, giving her pussy a last tender kiss and 
withdrawing from between her thighs.  "Close your eyes..."  I laid down 
next to her, pulling her blanket up and over her, tucking her in as I 
kissed her cool forehead.

"Annie..." she said, closing her eyes.  I snuggled up against her and 
listened to her breathing get slower and slower until she was asleep.

Before I left her, I cleaned the blood off of the bullet-shaped 
deodorant container.  It was about the length and girth of Ramon's cock, 
smooth and cold where his had been veiny and warm.  I thought about 
taking it upstairs with me, wondering whether I'd feel him inside me 
again.  Then I changed my mind, put it down, and had one last look at 
Sister Katherine before I left.

I didn't want to feel a cold plastic phallus inside me.  I knew where I 
could get the real thing.  Quietly closing the door behind me, I headed 
upstairs, back to my room, where I put in my diaphragm before heading 
back downstairs to the common room.

Manny was sitting with a couple of other boys his age, sipping soda pop 
and watching the Celtics play ball on television.  I sat down next to 
him and took a sip from his can.

"You okay?" he whispered.  A priest I'd never seen before, seated across 
the room, looked over at us and scowled.

"Yeah.  I'm fine," I whispered back.  "Could we get out of here?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere.  Your room?"

"I dunno," he said.  "Father Kevin's been looking at me all night."  He 
made a subtle gesture across the room towards the priest, who glanced 
over again.  Manny and I sat together, side by side but barely touching, 
and watched the game.  I wanted to feel his arm around me, but there was 
no way we could do that right here.

During a time out, when the station cut from the game to a commercial, 
Father Kevin got up and headed in the direction of the bathroom.  I 
looked over at Manny.

"Let's go," he said.  We hustled out of the common room and went 
upstairs, heading for his room.  Once inside, we immediately shed all of 
our clothes and jumped into bed, holding each other while our lips met.  
I reached for Manny's hardness, stroking it, aching to feel him inside 
me.  Dispensing with foreplay, I rolled over on my back and pulled Manny 
on top of me, parting my thighs and guiding his beautiful cock towards 
my lips.

There was a sharp knocking at the door.  We froze.

"Manny?  Manny?  Are you in there?" came a voice from outside.

"Oh, shit.  It's Father Kevin," Manny hissed.

"What are we going to do?" I whispered.  My heart was pounding, a 
thumping that seemed to block out all other sounds.

"Hide!" Manny said.  "Hide under the bed.  Quick."  He rolled off of me.

"Manny?  Are you okay?" Father Kevin called out.  As the doorknob began 
to turn, I scooted off of the bed, gathering my clothes from the floor 
and sliding underneath the bed frame, pressing against the far wall and 
trying to look like a dustbunny.  I could see the door opening, black 
shoes and black trousers coming closer to the bed.

"Manny?  Are you all right?" Father Kevin asked again.

"I'm okay," he replied.  "Just a bit of a stomach ache.  I thought I'd 
lie down for a while."  The bedsprings creaked above me as Father Kevin 
sat down on the edge of the bed, making it sag ominously.  It was then 
that I noticed my panties, still where I'd left them, in the middle of 
the floor next to Manny's shirt and trousers.

"Let me feel your forehead," Father Kevin said.  The bed sagged in a new 
direction, nearly crushing me.  "You feel cool.  Your stomach, you say?"

"Yes, Father."

"Let me rub it for you," the priest said.  I could hear the rustle of 
blankets and the bed began to creak in a regular pattern as Father Kevin 
caressed Manny's belly.  "That feel better?"

"Yes, Father," Manny replied in a flat voice.  Then the creaking 
stopped.

"Manny?  What's that on the floor?"

"What's what?"

"These," Father Kevin said.  From under the bed, I could see him lean 
forward and scoop my cotton panties up from the floor with his finger.  
"Are these yours?

"Um...yeah...," Manny said.  "Mine."  I could hear the blanket being 
pulled away.

"Put them on," Father Kevin commanded.  The bed moved above me and I 
heard the snap of elastic as Manny pulled them up over his hips, 
probably stretching them out for good.  Father Kevin sat down on the bed 
again.

"Do you like wearing these?" he asked.

"Yeah," Manny said, sheepishly.  The bed began to rock slightly.

"Does that feel good?" the priest asked.

"Mmm."

The rocking went on for a while and then Father Kevin stood up.  I heard 
the clink of a belt buckle and the buzz of a zipper, and then his 
trousers pooled around his feet as he stood facing the bed.  No words 
were exchanged.  It seemed that Manny knew what he was supposed to do.  
I heard lips smacking, slurping over something.  Father Kevin began to 
rock on his feet.

I closed my eyes and wished I could have blocked my ears.  I didn't have 
to see to know what was taking place.  Every so often, Father Kevin 
would grunt and the bed would begin to rock harder as his legs hit the 
mattress with each thrust into Manny's mouth.  And as quickly as it 
started, it stopped, with a grunt and a slurp, Manny's wet coughing 
making the bed squeak again.

There were no more words.  Father Kevin reached down and pulled his 
trousers back up, fastened them, and left.  As his steps receded down 
the hall, I slid out from under the bed.

Manny was lying with his face to the wall, half-curled, still wearing my 
panties, silent.  I climbed back into bed and snuggled up to him, 
putting my arms around him and kissing the nape of his neck.

"Manny, I'm sorry," I whispered.  "The panties..."  He didn't reply; he 
just shrugged his shoulders.

"Manny...Manny..."  I tried to get him to roll over, but he resisted.

"Manny.  Talk to me," I pleaded.  He rolled over, his eyes moist with 
tears.  I hugged him again, kissed him on his forehead, his chin, his 
nose.  When I tried to kiss him on the lips, he turned his head away.

"You'll taste him," he whispered.  "On my mouth..."

"I don't care.  Kiss me."  He was right.  I could taste Father Kevin's 
spunk on his lips, but that didn't stop me.  I wanted him to taste me 
instead.  I licked his lips and sucked his tongue like a cock.  His hard 
cock pressed against my thigh, and I reached down to stroke it through 
the panties.

"They do feel good, don't they?" I cooed, squeezing his cotton-covered 
balls.  Manny finally smiled and chuckled, rolling on his back and 
quickly pulling the panties off.

"Fuck these," he laughed, playfully throwing them at me.

"Quick thinking back there," I said.  "It could have been worse.  He 
could have looked under the bed."

"Yeah, that would have sucked.  You owe me one, though."

"You'll get what you want," I said, tugging at his shoulder and pulling 
him on top of me.  I reached for his hardness, gently stroking it and 
guiding it between my legs.

"Where were we?" I said.  "Oh, right."  I pressed the tip of his cock 
between my lips, feeling it sink into me.  Manny hovered over me, 
supporting his weight on his elbows and knees, finally settling on top 
of me as his shaft disappeared between my legs.

"Sweet pussy," he whispered as he started to thrust.

"Nice and slow," I cooed.  "Make it last."  Manny pulled the covers over 
us and we began to couple, slowly, quietly, stopping each time the bed 
made too much noise.  The danger of the situation compounded the 
delicious friction I felt as his shaft slid in and out of my sex.  I ran 
my hands over his back, his bottom, feeling his muscles tense and relax 
beneath his smooth skin.  When I came it was like torture to keep from 
crying out.  Manny locked his lips against mine when I began to moan, 
holding me tightly in his arms as his hips rocked and rotated, slowly 
pumping my hungry pussy with his manhood.  As the waves of pleasure 
receded, it was his turn to come, his lovely cock spasming inside me as 
I clenched around it, twitching with every spurt of semen.  I wrapped my 
limbs around him, wanting him to stay inside me forever.

Eventually, he slipped out and rolled off of me.  Manny reached across 
me to turn out the light.

"Thank you," I whispered, snuggling up against him.

"Annie..." he started to say.  Then he kissed me.

"Thank you," he whispered.


                                  * * *


He was having a nightmare.  That's what woke me up.  

It took a moment for me to remember where I was.  Manny's bed, 
moonlight, clothes on the floor, Manny grunting something in his sleep, 
a tension in his shoulders.  I wondered what he was dreaming about, what 
imaginary peril he was in.  Perhaps it was Father Kevin, whose earlier 
visit had interrupted our lovemaking.

Manny had an alarm clock, a rare luxury in a place where none of the 
doors had locks, not even the bathroom.  It was only 2AM.  I thought 
about just going back to sleep in Manny's bed, but his room was more 
centrally located than mine, and someone could easily notice me leaving 
in the morning.  I gathered my clothes from the floor and got dressed, 
giving Manny a gentle kiss before slipping out of the room and back to 
my own.

Sunday was a frigid day, an icy wind whipping through our clothes as we 
were marched to the cathedral for Mass.  It was cold inside, too, and I 
sat in a pew, huddled in my coat, as I watched the congregants take 
communion.  Sister Katherine was with us, and I tried to catch her eye 
but couldn't.  It wasn't until afterwards, when we were walking back to 
the shelter that I could even get near her.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered.  And that was it.  When we reached the shelter, 
she disappeared into the kitchen to prepare Sunday supper.  I went up to 
my room to hang up my coat and ran into Billy in the hallway.

"Hey, I got some more hash.  Wanna smoke after supper?" he asked.

"Yeah, that would be great," I said.  We agreed to meet in my room after 
we ate supper.

I was sitting between Billy and Manny, having just finished my meal, 
when Father Ken approached and leaned over to whisper something to me.

"Annie, could I see you in my office when you're done," he said.

"Yes, Father," I said.  I looked over at Billy; he seemed disappointed.

"I'll come by later," I whispered to him before getting up from the 
table.  I bussed my tray and headed upstairs.  Something in Father Ken's 
voice made me think that I should put in my diaphragm.

I knocked on the door to Father Ken's office, hearing him beckon me 
inside.  He was seated behind his desk, sipping a drink.  Seated in one 
of the chairs across from him was an older man in a blue suit, maybe in 
his fifties, greyish hair that used to be red at some distant time in 
history.  He turned in his chair, making the ice in his drink rattle as 
he watched me enter the room and sit down in the chair next to him.

"Anne, this is Mr. O'Hare.  Fred, Anne," Father Ken said, introducing 
us.  Fred extended his hand and I took it.  "Mr. O'Hare is one of the 
shelter's most generous donors, Anne."

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"The pleasure is mine," he replied, settling back into his seat and 
taking a sip of his drink.

"Would you like something, Anne?" Father Ken asked.  I wanted a Valium 
more than anything at that moment, but I couldn't ask for it in front of 
this stranger.

"Something to drink, please," I said.  Father Ken smiled and reached 
into the mini-fridge next to his desk for a soda.  He opened it and 
poured some into the glass he'd been drinking from, the glass that had 
about an inch of bourbon in it.  He passed it to me and pulled another 
glass from his desk, into which he poured some more bourbon for himself.  
I took a sip of the potent drink he'd mixed for me and began to relax.

"Mr. O'Hare has a proposition for you, Anne.  He's offering to sponsor 
your First Communion.  You can become a member of the Church," Father 
Ken said.  I looked over at Mr. O'Hare and he smiled at me.

"I...I don't know what to say," I said.  "Thank you, I guess."  I had 
only a vague idea of what First Communion was.  The first step to 
becoming a nun?

"You do want to join the Church," Mr. O'Hare said.

"I guess so," I said.  I'd never met this person before, and I began to 
wonder what he wanted in return.

"Would you like to take some time and think it over, Anne?" Father Ken 
asked.

"Yes, I would, thank you," I said.

"Would you like to see your dress?" Mr. O'Hare said, pointing to a small 
round table that graced the corner of Father Ken's office, a table like 
a sidewalk cafe would have, with two wooden chairs on either side, 
something Father Ken used when he counseled his charges, a more intimate 
setting than across a wooden desk.  There were two boxes, large and 
small, and a shopping bag bearing the brand of a small dress shop in 
Dorchester.

"Dress?" I asked.

"Communion dress," Mr. O'Hare said.  "A lovely one.  Take a peek."  I 
took another sip of my drink and placed it on Father Ken's desk before 
getting up to look at the clothing this strange man had brought.  I 
poked through the shopping bag first: a lace-trimmed full slip, a bra, a 
package of tights, lace-edged white socks, and a pair of white satin 
panties with ruffles on the front and back, something that a six-year-
old might wear to a party or some other special occasion.  Then I opened 
the small box.  Inside, wrapped in tissue, was a pair of black patent 
leather maryjanes.  I put the shoes aside and opened the big box, 
folding back the petals of wrapping paper.

The dress was a lacy white number, satin and crinoline, puffy sleeves, 
decorated with faux pearls.  I held it up against my body; it looked to 
be close to my size, just a bit small.

"I had it handmade for you," Mr. O'Hare said.  "Father Ken gave me your 
size."

Father Ken hardly knew my size, having guessed at it when he bought me 
that trashy lingerie.  Still holding the dress against me, I turned to 
model it for Mr. O'Hare.

"You look lovely," he said.  It looked ridiculous, like something a doll 
would wear.  If I had been on the fence about taking communion, the 
thought of being seen in public in this awful dress decided the matter 
for good.

"Thank you," I said, turning to put away the dress.

"Try it on, Anne," Father Ken said.  "Let's see how you look."

"Try it on?" I asked.  In front of Mr. O'Hare?

"Yes, try it on," Father Ken said, sitting back in his chair and taking 
another sip of his drink.  The look in his eyes all but said "...and put 
on a little show for us."

"Yes, Father," I said, putting the dress down so I could take off my 
clothes.  Unbuttoning my blouse and stepping out of my skirt, I picked 
up the dress and unzipped the back.

"Anne, try on all the things Mr. O'Hare has brought," Father Ken said, 
just as I was about to step into the dress.

"All of it?" I asked.

"Yes, all of it," he replied.  I put the dress down again and opened up 
the shopping bag, first pulling out the lacy little bra.  It was a size 
too small, but I struggled it on, feeling it constrict my chest as I 
closed the front clasp.  As Father Ken and Mr. O'Hare watched, I pulled 
off my cotton panties and put on the ruffled pair, pulling them up my 
thighs and straightening up.  I could see Mr. O'Hare squeezing his 
crotch as he watched me, his pale blue eyes fixed on an area between my 
neck and my knees.

He broke off his stare when I pulled the slip over my head, adjusting 
the straps as the hem settled around my thighs.  I examined the package 
of opaque white tights.  They were much too small; I would have torn 
them to shreds just trying to put them on.  I put them aside and sat 
down to don the lacy ankle socks.  These were nearly as frilly as the 
white dress.

After I stepped into the dress and put on the maryjanes, I walked over 
to Mr. O'Hare and turned around.

"Could you zip me up, please?" I asked him.  I felt a trembling hand tug 
at the zipper and then another hand in the small of my back to keep the 
dress from riding up.  The dress was tight around my waist and chest, 
and the lacy hem of my slip peeked out from under the crinoline froth.

"How's that fit?" Mr. O'Hare asked.  I turned around and saw that his 
hands were back in his lap, discreetly squeezing his bulge.

"It's a little small, sir," I said.

"You can have that altered, right Fred?" Father Ken said.

"Of course," he replied.  "It's handmade.  Friend of my wife's."

"Anne, you should thank Fred for his generous gift," Father Ken said.

"Thank you, sir," I said.

"You're welcome, missy," Mr. O'Hare replied.  "Ken?" he asked the 
priest, who was taking a sip of his drink.

"Right.  Anne?" Father Ken said, tilting his head in the direction of 
his guest.

"Yes, Father?"

"Thank him," he said, tilting his head again, a subtle gesture that took 
a moment to sink in.  I looked at Mr. O'Hare.  He uncrossed his legs and 
unzipped his trousers.  Thank him.

"Yes, Father," I said, hiking up the dress and kneeling between Mr. 
O'Hare's legs.  He was a big man, stocky but tall, even sitting down.  
He pulled his tie out of the way, giving me access to his belt buckle 
and zipper.  I undid his pants, reaching into his boxers to fish out his 
hardness.  He was a big man down there, too, bigger than just about 
anyone I'd ever seen, and he wasn't even fully hard yet.  As I began to 
slide his foreskin up and down over his shaft, he stiffened, his bulbous 
purple glans swelling to the size of a small plum.

Mr. O'Hare looked down at me with an expression of anticipation, as if 
this was the first time he'd ever had his cock sucked.  His grin widened 
when my lips made contact with his organ, my tongue swirling over his 
fat cockhead, my hands sliding down his shaft, pulling his foreskin 
taut.  I had to open my mouth as wide as I could to accommodate him, and 
there was so much of his flesh in my mouth that I could hardly use my 
tongue.  My lips sunk lower and lower on his fat penis until I could 
take no more; fully two thirds remained.

As I began to suck his swollen tool, Mr. O'Hare's hands tightened around 
the armrests of the chair, his big thighs tensing up every time my head 
bobbed in his lap.  My fingers danced around his shaft, pleasuring the 
parts of him my mouth could not reach.  I closed my eyes and listened to 
the sound of his heavy breathing, a tie being loosened, a collar button 
undone, the clink of ice in a glass.

Mr. O'Hare leaned over and unzipped the back of my dress as I sucked 
him.  The tightness in my chest subsided a bit and I could breathe 
deeply again.

"Let's get this off so we don't make a mess," he said, tugging at one of 
the puffy cap sleeves.  I released his cock from my mouth with a loud 
"slurp" and stood up, shrugging the dress from my shoulders and stepping 
out of it.  I carefully folded it and replaced it in the box.

"The slip, too," Father Ken said.  I could tell by the motion of his 
hand under the desk that he was stroking himself as he watched me suck 
his guest's penis.  I pulled the nylon slip over my head and folded it 
as well, and then removed the lacy bra, returning to my spot between Mr. 
O'Hare's legs dressed only in the ruffled panties, shoes and socks.

As I took his cock in my mouth again, Mr. O'Hare reached down to feel my 
breasts, cupping them with his huge hands, fat thumbs flicking my 
nipples.  I wondered if he was going to want to fuck me as well, and 
whether I'd be able to take this big organ inside me.  It was just then 
that Mr. O'Hare began to come, without warning, no grunt, no words, not 
even a twitch until after he began filling my mouth with his hot semen.  
It seemed to go on forever, thick ropy jets of sperm shooting from his 
fat cockhead.  I swallowed, suppressed a cough, swallowed some more, and 
had to pull his cock from my mouth to keep from choking on his load.  A 
thick stream of cum began to drip down his pole, but I managed to lick 
it up before it could stain the front of his trousers.

"Very good, very good," Mr. O'Hare said, letting out a deep, contented 
sigh and taking a sip of his drink.  "My wife never does this."

"Anne is a good girl," Father Ken said, pouring another inch of bourbon 
into his glass.

"Yes, a good girl," Mr. O'Hare agreed.

"Would you like some privacy now?" Father Ken asked.

"No, no, that won't be necessary," Mr. O'Hare said.  He pulled me up 
from between his legs and on to his lap, spreading my legs with his so I 
ended up straddling him, the crotch of my ruffled panties rubbing 
against his now-flaccid penis.  I felt it stir against my cleft, and I 
knew that he wasn't going to settle for just a blowjob.  Mr. O'Hare held 
my ruffled bottom in his big hands, squeezing my cheeks and pressing my 
crotch against his organ.  He held me like that for a while, my head 
resting on his broad shoulder, my arms wrapped around his neck, while he 
sipped his drink and made small talk with Father Ken.  As they discussed 
the previous year's donations and certain items in the upcoming budget, 
I felt Mr. O'Hare's cock begin to harden again, slowly, steadily, 
twitching slightly every time he squeezed my buns.

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to be alone?" Father Ken asked again, 
seeing Mr. O'Hare rhythmically squeezing my bottom and pressing my 
crotch against his.

"Thanks but no," Mr. O'Hare said.  "I'd like it if you watched.  Join 
in, even.  I'm not going to be using all of her holes at once."  I 
lifted my head from his shoulder and looked at him when I heard that 
last part.  He gave my bottom another squeeze and smiled at me.  "Ready, 
missy?" he asked.

"Clear off your desk, willya Ken?" he said even before I could answer 
him.  As Father Ken moved papers and folders to the side, Mr. O'Hare 
stood up, still holding me by the bottom, and sat me down on the edge of 
the desk.

"Lie back, missy," Mr. O'Hare said.  As I lay back on the desk, my legs 
dangling over the edge, he removed his suit jacket and laid it on his 
chair, undid his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and let his trousers fall 
around his ankles.  After taking a sip of his drink, he reached for the 
waistband of my ruffled panties, tugging at them.  I lifted my bottom 
slightly and he pulled them down my thighs, all the way down to my 
ankles.  His cock was fully hard now, still moist from my lips.

"Take her arms, Ken," Mr. O'Hare said as he pulled my thighs apart.  
Father Ken stood up, his semi-hard cock dangling from his fly, and 
pulled my arms back, holding my wrists.  His penis was only inches away 
from my face.  I turned my attention back to Mr. O'Hare, who grabbed my 
thighs and pulled my sex closer to his hardness, rubbing his shaft over 
my hairless cleft.  I wanted to spread my legs wider to accommodate him, 
but the panties kept my ankles together, pressing my inner thighs 
against Mr. O'Hare's legs.

Mr. O'Hare guided the bulbous tip of his cock between my lips, pressing 
inward until his glans penetrated my slit.  I winced and tried to move 
away; I just wasn't wet enough and it really hurt, but I bit my lips and 
tried not to cry or scream.

"Does that hurt?" Father Ken asked.  I nodded.  But rather than stop his 
guest from going any further, Father Ken reached into his desk and 
pulled out a tube of lubricant, handing it to Mr. O'Hare, who squirted 
some on his shaft and over my labia.  He spread it over his cock and 
used his glans to spread the lube that was dripping down my cleft, and 
then he tried to enter me again, forcing the tip of his penis inside my 
slit.  He gripped my thighs with his strong hands as he pushed his thick 
shaft into my sex.  It still hurt, but not as much as before.

As Mr. O'Hare began to thrust, slowly pulling his huge member out and 
pushing it back in, I felt Father Ken relax his hold on one of my 
wrists.  I heard him stroke himself a couple of times, and then he moved 
closer and laid his hard cock on my face with the bottom of his glans 
resting on my lips.  He took my wrist in his hand again and looked down 
at me with an expectant expression.  I knew what he wanted, and I parted 
my lips and began to lick the underside of his cock as he watched his 
guest try to split me in half with his penis.

With my arms and legs restrained, I could barely move, not even my hips.  
My poor little pussy stretched to accommodate Mr. O'Hare's big tool, and 
once I got past the initial pain I had to admit that it wasn't all that 
unpleasant, though I'd have enjoyed it more if I was a little wetter; 
Mr. O'Hare didn't seem to appreciate the value of foreplay.  Then again, 
he probably saw me as a whore, communion dress or no communion dress.  
Whores are supposed to be ready, always.

Mr. O'Hare began to fuck me harder, faster, moving my body back and 
forth over Father Ken's desk as he plugged me with his thick cock.  
Father Ken's desk blotter slid under me as the tall man pumped my pussy, 
making the priest's cock slide up and down across my lips.  I merely had 
to stick out my tongue to lick his shaft.  Then Father Ken moved 
slightly to the side and a bit closer, angling his cock into my mouth.  
I took him between my lips and tried to lift my head from the desk to 
suck him, but all I could do was swirl my tongue over his glans, tasting 
a drip of precum that had formed on the tip.

Father Ken began to move his hips, rhythmically pushing his cock in and 
out of my mouth.  I tightened my lips around his shaft and sucked him as 
Mr. O'Hare pounded my pussy.  Two hard cocks, assaulting me from both 
ends, two sets of hands restraining me, holding me down on top of the 
desk.  I kept telling myself that Father Ken would never let this man 
hurt me, that he liked his sex a little rough.  I didn't mind it a 
little rough.  I liked it when Brad fucked me like an animal during that 
weekend he stayed with me and Julia last summer.  I loved it when he 
held my arms behind my back and plowed my pussy from behind.  But this 
was a more than a little rough sex, especially when Mr. O'Hare went 
deep, almost hitting my diaphragm and stretching my cunny even wider 
with his root.  I almost bit Father Ken's hard cock, and I had to 
tighten my lips around it even more to keep from scratching him with my 
teeth.

"Ease up, Fred.  She's still a little girl," Father Ken said.  He let go 
of one of my wrists and began to caress my cheek, still rocking his hips 
back and forth and fucking my face.  Mr. O'Hare pulled back, just using 
the tip of his cock to pump my little pussy.

"She's a tight one, Ken," he said.  "What a fine little whore you have 
here."

I felt my cheeks redden when he called me a whore.  Even though the 
bulbous head of Mr. O'Hare's cock was beginning to feel pretty good as 
it rubbed across that sensitive spot in my cunny, all of the enjoyment 
drained out of me like an unstopped bathtub.  I just lay there, 
passively, letting the two men use my body for their pleasure.

This time I felt Mr. O'Hare's cock twitch before he came, right after he 
let out a satisfied groan.  He spurted once inside me and then 
immediately pulled out of my pussy, yanking his big tool as he spread 
the rest of his seed over my belly and thighs.

"Shit, I came inside her a little," he said, giving his prick a last 
long stroke before reaching for his drink.

"Don't worry about it," Father Ken said.  "It's taken care of."

"It is?  Good, because I can't afford another problem like that last 
girl," Mr. O'Hare said.  "Cost me a pretty penny."  He stuffed his 
softening cock back inside me, just letting it rest in my aching pussy.  
"You like that, missy?" he asked me.  I couldn't answer: my mouth was 
still full of Father Ken's cock.

As Mr. O'Hare's sticky semen dried on my skin, Father Ken gave his penis 
one last thrust and pulled it from my mouth.  He began to jerk off, 
short, quick strokes like that first night he "examined" me on his bed.  
He gasped softly and began to spurt all over my breasts and down my 
belly.  I could feel a rope of his hot sperm crossing a trail of Mr. 
O'Hare's cooling cum.

"Another drink, Fred?"  Father Ken asked, reaching down to pull his 
trousers back up.

"Sure," Mr. O'Hare said, stepping back and pulling his soft cock from my 
pussy.  I felt a bit of his first squirt begin to drip out of my tender 
slit.  I wanted to reach down and feel it, maybe see if I was bleeding, 
but I just lay there on the desk while Father Ken poured another round 
for himself and his guest.  They continued talking as if I wasn't there.

"Wish I had more time," Mr. O'Hare said.  "I sure would love to have 
that tight ass.  The wife's waiting for me, though."  I heard the sound 
of clothes rustling, a zipper, a belt, a coat.

"Maybe you could take her for a weekend," Father Ken said.  "Up to your 
house on the lake."

"You're really digging for another contribution, eh Ken?" Mr. O'Hare 
said with a hearty laugh.

"I do what I can, Fred," Father Ken said.  "For the kids," he added.

"Let me think about it, how I can keep it hush hush," Mr. O'Hare said.  
"I'd love to have her for a whole long weekend."

"Well, let me know," Father Ken said.  "She's not going anywhere."

"Thanks, Ken.  I'll give you a call."  I heard the clink of glass as Mr. 
O'Hare drained his drink, and then the slap of palms as he shook Father 
Ken's hand.  And then he was out the door, the box with the dress under 
his arm, heavy footsteps receding down the hallway.  I laid my head back 
on the desk, staring at the water stains on the ceiling tiles.  I heard 
Father Ken walking into his bedroom and then he returned with a towel, 
which he tossed on to my belly.

"Clean up," he said.  I wiped the cooling sperm from my breasts, belly, 
and thighs, and then gently blotted my pussy.  Father Ken could see me 
wince at the slight pain.

"Still hurt?" he asked.  I nodded my head and began to sit up.

"Stay there.  Let me look at it," Father Ken said, pulling up a chair 
and sitting down by my feet.  He leaned forward, between my thighs, 
pulling apart my lips with two fingers.  I could feel his warm breath on 
my sex.  I thought he was about to lick me, like he'd done after Father 
Steve fucked me, scooping up the semen with his tongue and spreading it 
over my clit.  But he just pulled his fingers away and stood up, walking 
behind his desk and opening a drawer.  I sat up on his desk, sliding off 
the edge and stepping out of the ruffled panties.  As I hunted through 
my own clothes for my plain cotton panties I could hear Father Ken 
opening prescription pill bottles, tapping a few pills from each into an 
empty vial.  I pulled my panties up and went back over to the desk.

"Here, take one if it still hurts," he said, handing me a small orange 
vial.  The prescription label had been partially torn off.  I looked 
inside; there was an assortment of pills, Valium, Dilaudid, and a 
something I didn't recognize.

"What are the little pink ones?" I asked.

"Something to help you sleep," Father Ken replied, sitting back in his 
chair.  I tapped out a Dilaudid and washed it down with the drink he'd 
poured me earlier, bourbon and coke, now flat.

"Father?"

"Yes, Anne?"

"I have a favor to ask," I said, putting my blouse and skirt back on and 
folding up the underthings that Mr. O'Hare had bought for me.  The dress 
had left with him, to be let out by the seamstress who made it.

"What would that be, Anne?" he said.

"Sister Katherine told me that I have to start wearing a bra all the 
time," I said.  After what happened the night before I couldn't be sure 
that she was serious, but I couldn't be sure she wasn't.

"That sounds like a good idea," Father Ken said.

"Well, I only have one.  I can't wear it every day, so I need a few 
more," I said.  I'd only brought one with me when I left the foster home 
in Maine.  "There were none in the donation pile."

"So you need some money?"

"Yes, and some time to shop."

"Okay, that's no problem," he said, reaching into his desk drawer and 
pulling out a bulging envelope.  He pulled out a huge wad of money and 
peeled off two hundred dollar bills.  "This enough?"

"Yes, Father.  Thank you, Father."  I took the money and stuffed it into 
the pocket of my blouse.

"Keep whatever's left over," he said, smiling, taking another sip of his 
drink.  "Oh, and Anne?"

"Yes, Father?"

"Get a few nice things," he said.  "You know what I mean."

"Yes, Father.  Thank you, Father," I repeated.  I started to leave.

"Anne?"

"Yes?"

"Those things fit you, right?" he said, pointing to the shoebox and 
shopping bag on the table in the far corner, the maryjanes and 
underthings that Mr. O'Hare had brought.

"Yes, Father."

"Take them with you, then."

"Yes, Father.  Thank you."  I grabbed them and half bowed as I left his 
office.  When I was back in my room, I tossed them under the bed, not 
wanting to look at them, much less wear them, especially those ruffled 
panties and the lacy ankle socks.  Wearing them made me feel like a six-
year-old at a birthday party who soiled her pretty dress with ice cream 
and had to spend the rest of the time in just her frilly undies.  But I 
could tell that Mr. O'Hare liked them, liked to see them on me, liked 
how they made me look like a little girl.  He liked pulling them down my 
thighs; I thought he'd drool when he did that.

I stuffed the money Father Ken had given me in the place under the 
boxspring where I hid my pot and my vibrator.  I still had over a 
hundred left over from my trip to the gynecologist earlier that week.  
Pulling out my bag of pot, I grabbed my towel and my toothbrush and left 
the room to take a bath and wait for the Dilaudid to kick in.  As I was 
brushing my teeth and waiting for the tub to fill, I remembered that I 
was supposed to hook up with Billy before Father Ken had summoned me to 
his office.  I rinsed out my mouth, spitting out the traces of Mr. 
O'Hare's semen that remained, and left the bathroom, heading for Billy's 
room.

He was in his usual place, on the bed, doing the usual thing, reading a 
comic book.  He looked up, surprised to see me.

"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier," I said.

"No sweat," he replied.  "Father Ken?"

"Yeah, him and another guy.  Take a bath with me, okay?"

"Sure," he said, putting the comic book aside and swinging his legs off 
of the bed.

"Got some papers?" I asked.

"Yep."

"Good.  Bring them."  We headed upstairs to the bathroom; the tub was 
just half full.  I jammed the end of my toothbrush between the door and 
frame, giving us a bit of privacy.  While Billy stuffed a wet towel 
under the door and rolled a couple of joints from my bag of pot, I got 
undressed and checked the water temperature.  Nice and warm.  I stepped 
into the tub, slowly lowering myself into the water.  Billy saw me wince 
as I sat down.  I was still tender down there.

"Annie?  Are you okay?" he asked as he licked the rolling paper's 
adhesive edge and folded it over the fat joint he'd rolled.

"Yeah, just a little sore," I said.  He lit the end of the joint and 
handed it to me.  "Thanks."

The Dilaudid was just taking effect and I tried not to let go of the 
joint and drop it in the water.  Billy undressed and took the joint from 
my hand, holding it between his lips as he eased into the bathtub across 
from me.  The tub was just about full, so he shut off the faucet.  My 
head rolled back as I leaned against the back of the tub.

"Annie?  You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, sweetie.  He was so big, it hurt.  But I took a pill."  Billy 
looked at me, a worried expression on his face, a look of almost 
brotherly concern.

"Shotgun," he said, leaning forward in the tub.  "Just breathe in."  He 
took the joint from his mouth, reversing it so the lit end was between 
his lips, and blew, sending a dense stream of smoke from the damp end.  
I sucked it in, thinking how much it looked like a stream of semen as it 
disappeared between my lips.  Billy leaned back and reversed the joint 
again, taking a big hit as I held the smoke in my lungs.

"Thanks," I said, exhaling just as he did, our breath forming a grey 
cloud of smoke over the tub.  When we just about finished the joint, 
Billy flicked the roach out the window.  I watched the orange dot 
disappear into the blackness of the alley.

I began to soap up my breasts, washing off the sticky remnants of semen 
that lingered on my chest, but my arms felt like lead.  Billy leaned 
forward in the tub and took the soap from me, gently lathering my 
breasts and belly.  I leaned forward so he could do my back, and I 
noticed that his cock was stiffening as his hands roamed over my 
slippery skin.  I reached out with soapy fingers and began to stroke 
him.

"Annie, you don't have to...," he said.

"Billy, Billy, Billy.  You're so sweet," I murmured, wasted on the pot 
and Dilaudid.  His penis hardened in my hands as I fondled it.  Billy 
leaned back in the tub, having finished lathering my back, but I kept 
both hands on his cock and balls, cupping his hairless nuts as I stroked 
his smooth young boycock.  He leaned forward again to rinse off my soapy 
breasts and belly, and his hips began to move, sliding his penis in and 
out of my fingers.

"Ow!" I exclaimed, when Billy touched the top of my slit, hitting a sore 
spot.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling back and withdrawing his cock from my 
soapy hands.

"No, no, it's just a little sore," I said.  "Come back..."  I reached 
for his cock and balls again, and he began to rock his hips, his cock 
dancing between my fingers, his hands back on my breasts again, gently 
rinsing them, letting the warm water cascade over my little boobs, over 
my puffy nipples.  Billy cupped them lightly, treasuring them, caressing 
them.  I felt his hips begin to shudder and his cock start to twitch in 
my hands, and then he spurted a single blob of semen.  It dripped off of 
the soapy tip of his boycock and landed in the water.  He leaned back in 
the tub, pulling his penis from my slippery hands, and let out a 
contented sigh.

We smoked the other joint and then got out of the tub when the water 
began to cool, drying each other off and getting dressed.  Billy had to 
help me a bit; my legs were rubbery from the narcotics and I was a bit 
dizzy from the pot.  Billy looked out the door, making sure the coast 
was clear before helping me back to my room across the hall.  He sat me 
down on the bed and helped me get undressed again, tucking me in under 
the blankets before turning to leave.

"Billy...wait...stay...," I said.  I wanted to hold him; I wanted him to 
hold me, to take care of me, to kiss me before I fell asleep.  I reached 
out for him.

"Are you sure?" Billy said, his freckled brow furrowed with concern.  I 
think he was afraid of hurting me, touching a sore spot by accident.

"Please," I said, taking his hand and pulling him closer to the bed.  He 
got undressed and crawled under the blankets next to me.  I snuggled 
against his warm body, threading my hand between his waist and the 
mattress to pull him close to me.

"Thanks," I whispered.  Billy kissed my forehead and laid his head on 
the pillow next to mine, watching me as I fell asleep.


                                  * * * 
 

(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html