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Message-ID: <63679asstr$1451387402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} Habit 1
Lines: 252
Date: Tue, 29 Dec 2015 06:10:02 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 
Habit 1
 
       @  GUEST.  Screen  name: LilGirlLost.  Password:  NEVAR96.  The 
mouse clicks and  the connection is made.  Favorite Places:  the mouse scrolls 
down the  list and settles on ALT.com.  Clicking the site is contacted and 
the screen  appears.  Handle and Password and again entry.  
Search for: Men seeking Women.  Role:  Dominant (Master).   Age:  25-55.  
State/Prov:  New York.  Country:  USA.
For: blindfolds, bondage,  discipline, domination, exhibit ism, masochism, 
masturbation, religious,   sadism, slave/master, voyeurism.  A click on 
Search.  A list of screen  names and brief description.  Scrolling down and no 
choice made.   Closing the site.

A click on Mail and then  New.  Quickly deleting and then skipping over one 
and deleting the  rest.  The addressee of the New e-mail:  The Daemonic.   
Opening and reading it quickly. A quickening of the breath and a tightness 
in  the chest.  He wants to meet and talk.  Oh.  What have I done,  are words 
that rush quickly to the panicky brain.  I have told him that I  am curious 
and now he is calling my bluff.  Am I curious enough to risk  taking or 
missing this opportunity.  All the web sites that so fill me with  aching and 
want and the desire to meet The  Daemonic.  Who is he really.  What is he 
like and how  will he make me feel.  I have to think this out and not fall into 
some  traps like a gullible schoolgirl.  Damn, I teach girls and here I am 
no  better prepared then they are.
IM:   hi girl.  I see you read my email.  will you meet me and find out who 
 you really are and what you really need to make your life  complete.
Looking around the  library,  the dark haired woman shields the screen with 
her body.  The  startled eyes of a doe in the headlights of a car, could 
hold no more fear or  indecision.  Fingers fluttering at the keyboard; but no 
keys touched.   Finally. 
Respond:  Yes I am curious; but don't think that I am ready to meet  you.
IM:  you are ready. you just  don't realize it yet.  where do you want to 
meet.  a nice safe place  where you will feel secure and safe.  tell  me.
Respond:  Give me time to  think.  I'm not ready yet.   Please.
IM:  remember this.   when we meet and you hear my voice says your name, 
you will not turn around and  look at me.  you will look down.  our time will 
come soon Girl.   I will give you time to think and anticipate our meeting.  
 goodnight.
Respond:   Goodnight.    (The Daemonic is no  longer online)
----------------------------------------------------------------
Sitting  there eyes unfocused on the screen, the young woman, shivers.  
From  fear or is it anticipation.  She doesn't know.  Signing off she gets  up 
and walks out of the school and going to her small room, closes and bolts 
the  door.  Sitting on the edge of her bed, her fingers pull up the hem of her 
 skirt and they rub the swollen flesh at the juncture of her legs.  Laying  
back, her eyes closed, she envisions The Daemonic touching  her and making 
her shake with the orgasm of his fingers caresses.    Shaking she squeezes 
her legs tight on her fingers, a quiet moan escapes her  lips as her body 
shakes the bed.  Finally she lays quiet and spread, eyes  staring at the 
ceiling.  Wondering how this started, and what lays  ahead. 
The computer started it.  Nice to blame a machine.  But curiosity and  
naivety and yes an innocence that is not there anymore.  Much research and  many 
questions and words online, have brought me to this place in my life.   
Should I continue or break totally with this trend of thought and possible  
action.
This is totally against all that  I am and have been and the way I was 
raised.  This is sinful to think and  write and to touch myself.  I have fallen 
from my faith; but ache so badly  to know the physical touch of another and 
to be pleasing to them.  Oh. I am  so confused.  Tomorrow I will go and 
confess my sins to the priest and pray  that his counseling will guide me in a 
righteous path.  I will wait for  regular confession, I would be too 
embarrassed to have him know what I am like  as a person.  
With this decision,  she strips off her clothes and puts on a robe and  
carry's her nightclothes to the bath.  After a warm and then a cold shower,  
she puts on her gown and prepares for bed.  No looking in the mirror to  view 
her naked body or lingering patting with her towel; but a no nonsense  
rubbing.  Praying for help, she falls asleep,  a restless; but  deadening sleep.
Rising early to face  the day, she washes up and dresses quickly.  White 
cotton panties and a  white bra and then black pantyhose.  A black skirt 
hanging to her knees and  a white long sleeved blouse, topped by a black vest and 
a short black tie at her  collar.  A small headpiece of a black headband 
and solid black thick heeled  shoes completes her wardrobe.  At least the 
heavy habits were only worn on  special occasions or if you liked that type of 
penitence.  This work outfit  is not really sexy; but is definitely not 
intended to be.  An at least I  can wear regular clothes when away from the 
duties of the convent.  
A bright cheerful morning, all thoughts of the evening and night chased 
away by  the duties of teaching.  A communal breakfast of sisters and brothers 
and  then to school and to work.  At least there are some young sisters and  
brothers to talk to, not just the older staid religious of old.  
The day progresses well with a busy schedule as the students are preparing 
for  exams.  The brother in charge of the library and the computers has 
helped  much in the preparation and though older is friendly and kindly.  Good 
with  the kids and fun to talk to, not old fashioned in his beliefs.  Besides 
 that, he lets her have unlimited computer time in the library, even late 
into  the night.  It helps (or hinders) with this recently new obsession.   
It is tougher to find a line to hook in my laptop at the convent without 
prying  eyes and questions.  Easier here to use a terminal with the Internet  
access.
After classes, the urge to go  online and check messages is overwhelming.  
Control, I say to myself.   Let's get some self control.  I will come back 
after supper and check the  puter.  "Brother, I have work that I would like 
to do on the computer  later."  "Fine", he replies, "I will be here later 
trying to win another of  my "War Craft" games.  Some scholar I am", he  laughs.
After supper and grading some  papers, she decides to work in the chapel, 
preparing it for morning mass.   The sun is so cheerful and beautiful 
reflected in the stain glass of the chapel  windows.  With a firm spirit and a 
decision to pray for help and strength  and guidance, she kneels down and bows 
her head.  Long minutes and a  soothing calm  relaxes her young face and the 
tenseness of her bodies'  muscles.  Resolve is firming in her  spirit.
"Little Girl Lost, do not turn  around", a voice commands.  Strong and deep 
and demanding.  " You are  very becoming kneeling with your head bowed", it 
continues.  Her head  straightens and tenses to turn; but she stares 
straight ahead.  A shiver  travels the length of her body and her body trembles.  
"Oh.  This  can't be happening she thinks.  Oh, God help me."  A gasp 
escapes her  lips.  A chill grips her body.  Goose bumps raising on arms and  legs.
"Now.  Sit back little  Girl.", the voice commands.  Slowly she responds to 
the order and sits,  back arched and head bowed.  A blindfold covers her 
eyes, and darkness is  all around.  "Put your arms behind you", is the next 
command.   Obediently she lifts her arms and puts them on the back of her 
seat.  Hands  grasp her arms and tie them to the kneeler behind her arching her 
back.   From behind a hand grasps her right ankle on the seat and tying  a 
rope to  it pulls it back and ties it to the kneeler and then does the same 
with the left  ankle.
Uneven breathes escape her mouth,  her chest pumping furiously.  A finger 
grazes her neck, stroking the  smooth column of soft flesh.  "Please, please 
her trembling words loud  in the empty chapel.  Their meaning obscured by 
the fingers that caress her  neck, the soft voice that whispers in her ear.  
"Relax Sister Alana."   A quick intake of breath as she feels the fingers 
undoing the buttons of  her blouse.  Tied helpless, her soft sobbing matching 
her uneven  breathing.  Feeling the fingers pushing her vest and then blouse 
open,  tugging the blouse from the waistband of her skirt.  "No, I don't 
want  to.........",  Sister Alana's words lost as she feels the fingers  
insistent on her bra, moving over the small cups, massaging her breasts, her  
nipples growing to small bumps and then growing more.  Gasping for breath,  
holding it, as the fingers pull at the front of her bra and then the  loud 
""snip"" as cold steel touches the middle of her chest for a  moment.  Feeling 
her cups free, breasts released from the confinement, her  chest hot and 
flushed and then clammy as her breasts are exposed to the  altar.  Two more quick 
""snips"" and her bra falls to her lap and then  the floor.  
    Moaning softly, then louder as she  feels her nipples rolled between 
his fingers, her chest heaving with the  sensation, her nipples hard and 
aching with pleasure. Her legs moving  involuntarily as she feels the tongue and 
then lips suckling and licking her  nipples, circling the areolas.  
Switching from one breast to the other,  fingers and mouth, teasing her pulling on 
the nubs, touching them and then  pulling on them again.  Feeling the wetness 
of her panties as her body  responds to the caresses.  The lips lifting 
from her breast, releasing it,  jiggling as they lift to kiss her mouth, 
forcing his tongue between her  lips.  Taking her breath away, drawing it into his 
mouth, making it  his.  Moaning into his mouth as his hands roll and 
massage her swollen  nipples.  Chest lifting and pushing at his hands, feeling her 
 breasts cupped and palmed.
    "You are mine Sister Alana."   His hand moving to her hair, stroking it 
and then his fingers twining in  the hair, pulling her head back roughly, 
exposing her neck.  His mouth  sliding down to lick the soft delicious flesh 
of her soft neck, sucking and  pulling gently on the skin. Lips forming to 
kiss the delectable skin.   Whimpers of pleasure, escaping Alana's closed 
lips.  Trying to hold back,  but not able to hide the sensations that he is 
evoking.  His lips  settling on the joining of neck and shoulder, lips kissing 
the spot, then  demanding harder as they stiffen and suck hard on the soft 
flesh, teeth, biting  hard, sucking on the ring of flesh.  A scream of pain 
and then another as  Alana feels her nipple being crushed in his fingers.  
His lips leaving her  neck, mouth next to her ear.  "Do not scream Lil Girl."  
A hard pinch  and twist and his lips go back to worrying the soft flesh of 
her neck and  shoulder.  Finally his mouth lets up and releases the bruised 
skin.   Tears of pain, running down Sister Alana's cheeks, to drip from her 
chin to her  breasts. 
    A new feeling as she hears the soft rustle of metal, then a whispered  
"sshhhhhh" as a finger touches her lips, quickly followed by the bite of 
pain on  her left nipple.  Her mouth opening in a silent scream, as the clamp 
bites  savagely into her sensitive nipple.  The small serrated teeth, digging 
into  the flesh and the press of two fingers, pinching them deeper.......a 
long low  keen of pain, whistling from her closed lips.........her body 
moving too late to  escape the clamp.  "Nooooo, noooooo, nnnnooooo." A quiet 
litany of denial,  still not able to stop the bite on her other nipple, the 
jagged edge biting into  the flesh, her torso shaking as she strains at her 
bindings.  The beginning  of her scream lost in the loud explosion of sound as 
a hand strikes the flesh of  her breast.  "Shut up girl, last time I am 
telling you."  Another slap  to the other breast.  Groaning with the pain, 
biting on her lower  lip,  body shaking with repressed emotion.  As she sits in 
the lonely  chapel, she feels his hands touching her nipples and then the 
coolness of a  chain hanging down, dangling against her breasts.  Then feeling 
the chain  lifted as the sound of metal is loud in the room, a snap of 
sound.  She can  feel the chains moving then a her nipples pulled downward as a 
weight pulls on  her nipples, tugging on the clamps.
    "Girl, you nipples are chained together with a lock.  I want you  to 
always have that lock attached to you in at least one place at all  times.  Do 
you understand..........?"  "Do you understand, as he pulls  on the lock, 
lifting it and then tossing it a few inches into the air.  A  strangled moan 
of pain as it falls and tugs on the deeply embedded teeth.   Hastily nodding 
her head in assent.\
    "We are almost done here girl.  Just a little more."    His laughter 
soft and evil sounding in the place of worship.  His hand  reaches down and 
lifts the hem of Alana's skirt, pulling it up to her waist,  exposing her 
pantihosed legs.  The covered mound sheathed in the black  nylon.  Fingers 
probing at her puffy lips, feeling the moisture at the  juncture of her legs.  A 
snipping and her pantyhose are roughly cut open at  her crotch, his white 
cotton panties snipped off at the leg holes to the  waistband.  Pulling 
savagely, the cloth is drawn through the ragged cut in  the pantyhose.   The damp 
cotton rag, lifted to his nose and with a  swipe of his tongue, tasted.  
"You are a needy girl aren't you Sister  Alana!"  Taking the panties her rubs 
them on her face.  The  humiliation adding to the heat already in her 
body...........her face, flushed  chest and the juncture of legs and torso.  Her 
fat swollen vulva.   "Open", the command  eliciting an immediate response, her 
legs splaying as  wide as her bindings allowed.  Laughing softly, "no I 
want you mouth  open."  Sister Alana, opening her lips and feeling the soiled 
panties  shoved between them, tasting her juices on the padded crotch.  The 
panties  shoved into her mouth, stifling all protest.
    Then the man's fingers probing quickly at her pussy lips.  Two  fingers 
sliding along the crease of her slit.  Feeling the moisture and  heat of 
her walls as they press deeper.  Alana shirking back in the seat,  but her but 
quickly coming against the back of the seat, as the fingers drive  deeper 
into her wet tunnel.  Pressing on her walls, wiggling against them,  then 
stroking in hard movements into her pussy, firmly fucking her virgin  hole.  
Pushing past the already missing hymen.  His other hand rubbing  on her 
swollen clit, massaging it in slow circles.  Alana moaning into her  undergarment, 
tasting her need in the rag.  Feeling her legs quivering  shaking as the 
strain of her legs and arms ache with pain, her lower body aching  with 
pleasure of the hard fucking fingers.  Mewling with pleasure at the  finger rape, 
she feels her body shaking as her insides squeeze on the  fingers.  
Quivering and then spasming as her body gives release.   Cumming on his fingers.  
Body  flushed with the heat of her need,  juices leaking onto his fingers.  
    Feeling as he slides his fingers from  her slimy hole, then the 
moistness on her face as he wipes the juices on  her lips and under her nose.  The 
scent strong in the  air.  "That is what you are girl."  A slut, leaking 
your  juices, luring men with your nasty smell."
    "I will leave you my dear Lil  Girl.  You will wait five minutes after 
I leave before you turn  around."  Alana can hear the movement as he 
releases  her legs and then her arms.  Feel as he lifts the lock on her chest  and 
lets is pull on her nipples.  "Goodnight girl."  A shuffling of  movement 
and the creak of the heavy oak door announcing that he has departed the  dark 
chapel.  
    Not moving, counting softly to  herself  finally reaching 300.  
Reaching with sore arms to pulling the  black scarf from her eyes.  And spitting 
out the soggy panties into her  lap.  Seeing the flickering of the candles 
then looking down at her  breasts, seeing the clips on her nipples, golden and 
the small golden chain  dangling from each clip and then the small gold lock 
dangling heavily between  them.  Fingers reaching to her nipples, tears 
appearing as she touches them  and the aching pain.  Sliding her skirt down 
from her waist over her  nyloned legs.  buttoning her blouse and vest over her 
bruised and swollen  nipples.  Reaching with her hand to massage her wrists 
and then her  ankles.  Touching the ruined bra.  Lifting it up and holding 
it in  front of her, knowing that she is as ruined as the now useless  
garment. 
    Shakily rising from the pew,  gathering her belonging and former under 
garments, and weakly leaving the chapel  after a quick genuflect.  The sound 
of her sturdy shoes loud to her  ears.  Looking guiltily as she opened the h
eavy door,  Not seeing  anyone as she walked to the convent,
    Her hand rubbing the soreness of her  neck as she quickly walks the 
short distance..
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