Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology - Yolanda Olson Page 0,97
with disdain. I’m not sure if it’s because they passed her up, or because she actually is that pious.
In this place – it’s hard to tell.
5 Years Ago
“Marchfield, get your ass over here in line.”
I sat up groggy on my cot as the house mother yelled my name for morning count. Being in the foster system sucked. You had absolutely no say in what happened with your life. I always laughed at the movies they showed us in school that said as teenagers we could be our own individuals.
We were robots, unable to have our own thoughts or make our own choices. We did what they said, when they said it, and how they said it. They told us when to eat, sleep, piss, and breathe. I couldn’t wait until the day I turned eighteen so I could skip out of this place and be my own person.
Five more long years, and I would be on my own.
Chapter 2
Father O’Rourke
Purity was a vision in that habit. How we lucked out having her walk right through our doors, and being so submissive, it was truly God’s plan.
Now was the moment of truth as she walked over toward me after her morning prayer and meal. I was secretly hoping she would’ve disobeyed me. The thought of spanking her smooth ass made the front of my trousers tighten.
I had instructed her to wear nothing under her habit today. There would be no way to hide it from the others if they saw her because it would show a sliver of skin at the very top. I knew the humiliation of that alone would transcend on her soul, that they knew she was nothing more than a common dirty girl. I had more instructions for her after our lesson for her next study course with Clarence.
I ran my finger across her bare sliver of skin, feeling the goosebumps pop up all over her body. I smiled broadly to let her know I was proud, I twirled my index finger instructing she should disrobe. Dropping her loose clothes to the ground, she looked at me demurely.
The dark, smattering bush that encircled the vee in her legs, was mine for the taking. As much as I wanted to shove her mouth full of my cock, I needed to taste her. It was that sweet scent that I craved more than anything else.
I pointed to my desk. She walked over, hoisting herself up. By now she knew what was expected, what I desired. This had happened several times and she got to know me as well as I knew her. Being on a vow of silence meant part of her lesson with me was that she needed to learn to do everything without vocal instructions.
She laid back as her legs fell naturally apart. Raising an eyebrow at her, she saw what I was expecting. She immediately lifted her legs up on the desk, spreading them open for easier access. Her pussy was soaked and waiting. She could act like this was a chore all she wanted, but when my mouth touched her slit and her muscles clenched around my tongue, she wasn’t fooling anyone but herself.
I scooted her bottom to the edge of desk, so it was just hanging over. Pulling her lips apart, I dove into her sweet taste, a forbidden ecstasy that, in that moment, I was allowing myself to have. She writhed and squirmed under me, but never made a sound. Putting my thumb on her engorged clit, I pressed down as I thrust my tongue in and out tasting her release. It was the most beautiful sight whenever she came, knowing that I was the one that made it happen.
My pants came down, my rigid cock went straight into her ass. This was penance; punishment was expected. Because she needed to repent there was no lubrication that would ease the pain. Faster and faster, her cheeks bounced on my desk as I recited the scripture to her about the whore of Babylon. Her mouth opened in silent scream as I emptied my load.
“Bend over.” I instructed, making sure she knew she still needed to be punished for making me be sinful. She offered her body so willingly, how was I supposed to refrain, even as a man of the cloth? She was so delicious looking; waiting on her knees, ass in the air as I cracked her with the paddle once, twice, three times.