Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology - Yolanda Olson Page 0,65
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 the