The Unholy
Lord, forgive me, for I have sinned
Amy thought joining the convent would make the thoughts go away, and for the first few weeks, it worked. Things felt different, both internally and externally. She rose at dawn with the other sisters, knelt in prayer until her knees ached, and sang hymns in the chapel while sunlight streamed through the iridescent glass. She learned to fold laundry with a precision previously inaccessible and unimportant to her. She learned to sweep in silence, the actions of the broom replacing her thoughts and acting as a meditation. And she learned to reduce the temptation of returning to her old ways wherever she could, keeping her eyes lowered when the young male delivery driver brought goods from the town.
The routine soothed her, and for a while, she was saved.
But her body hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be used, to be touched, to be filled, to grind herself on the tongue of a submissive man, to reach her hand behind herself and grab the shaft of his–
She breathed deeply and looked up at the sky.
It was the worst at night. The convent was quiet then, the air heavy with the scent of snuffed wax candles and ancient incense. She would lie rigid on her cot, sheets tucked tightly around her, trying to think of scripture, of hymns, of anything but…that.
But inevitably, her mind would slip. A remembered partner, heavy in her palm. The weight of a man’s body pinning her down. The way her breasts used to bounce when she rode.
It was a trial from God. That was all. Just a temptation she was meant to resist. Sometimes, awakening with a hot sticky throbbing between her legs, she would force herself to plunge her hands into the freezing wash-water, the shock numbing her flesh and dragging her mind back to purity. It worked for a little a while…
…and then she met Sister Maria.
Sister Maria wasn’t like the other nuns. Despite her long time at the convent, she still moved quickly; like she still remembered crowds, the grocery aisles, the hands on subway poles. She wasn’t slow and serene like the others, and when she laughed, it was quick and low, not the churchy-smile-sound the older sisters used. Everyone seemed to revere her with a mix of admiration and unease.
The first time Amy spoke to her directly was in the laundry room. They were wringing sheets side by side, working silently for several minutes before Maria glanced over at her struggling with a twisted knot of fabric. “Here,” she said, stepping close, wrapping her arms around her and covering her hands with her own. She folded it easily, pinching the corners and stretching out Amy’s arms. “See?”
“Yes,” Amy whispered, her body lighting up at being used. “I see.”
That night, Amy dreamt of Maria and woke up needy.
She prayed.
***
A week later, during a thunderstorm, Maria caught her by the elbow.
“Come, Sister Amy. I need you in the cellar with me.”
They took a lantern and went down together. The stone steps were damp and the pump chugged steadily in the corner, water trickling into the drain as it should.
“Looks like it’s fine,” Maria said. “I was worried it might have given out due to the rain. All glory to the Highest.”
She set the lantern on a crate and leaned back against a shelf. Amy waited for her to say something but instead she just seemed to be looking at her, watching her eve, her legs opening slightly. Amy cleared her throat and looked away in embarrassment.
“Uh…should we go back up? The other sisters will be waiting…”
“Sure.” The lantern’s light flickered on Maria’s face, but she didn’t move. “You’re always so tense,” Maria smiled. “It doesn’t have to be like that, you know?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” Maria stepped forward. “We have ways of helping each other in the sisterhood, and it looks like you need help now…”
“I…I…”
“Open your mouth.”
The words were soft, a simple instruction, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Amy obeyed, and they maintained eye contact with each other as Maria slid two fingers between her lips, pressing down on her tongue.
“Good girl,” Maria whispered. “Hands behind your back.”
Amy obeyed instinctively, her arms shaking as she clasped them together. Maria’s fingers pressed deeper, then eased out, wet. Maria smeared the wetness across her lips before sliding her fingers back in again.
“You’ve been so desperate recently, haven’t you?”
Amy closed her eyes in shame and nodded, closing her lips around Maria’s fingers and sucking. Maria smiled benevolently, as if this was exactly what she had been expecting. She allowed her to suck and lick a little longer and then gently pulled her hand away. For a horrified moment, Amy was sure she had crossed the line. That was, until Maria sucked her own fingers clean with her tongue.