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Title : Nun's Confession. Chapter 1: Flesh and Faith
Last Updated:
2025-08-30 05:08:21
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Craving Forbidden Pleasures Chapter 7: Devil at the Door
The cottage was small, but it was theirs. They had taken residence in the village when they left the convent. Lucien found work helping repair the village chapel, though he refused to wear a collar. The priest there, old and nearly blind, welcomed the help but didn’t ask questions. Emilia worked in the market garden behind the butcher’s shop, her hands always in the soil, her skirts always dusted with dirt.They did not speak of the past.Not openly.But it lingered in everything—how Lucien still rose before dawn and knelt in the empty room where an altar should have been. How Emilia kept her rosary on the windowsill, though she no longer touched it.Their love had changed. It was still passionate. Still consuming. But now layered with the slow, steady ache of reality.He came to her in the night, always wordless. His mouth found hers before sleep, his body hot and needing. They still made love like it might be their last night on earth. But afterward, he often turned away, silent.
Craving Forbidden Pleasures Chapter 6: A New Devotion
They left the convent at dawn, when the mist still clung to the hills like a secret.Lucien held her hand the entire way down the stone steps. He didn’t speak, didn’t pray—just stared straight ahead as though if he looked back, the guilt would consume him. Emilia walked beside him barefoot, her veil tucked beneath her arm, her body raw with ache and rebellion.Neither of them had anywhere to go.They simply… went.By nightfall, they found shelter in an abandoned rectory on the edge of a quiet village where no one asked questions and no one cared about collars or habits. It was crumbling, quiet, and cold.But it was theirs.Lucien built a fire in the hearth while Emilia stood at the window, her arms wrapped around her body. The world felt too wide, too loud. And yet for the first time in years, she could feel her breath fill her lungs without permission.She turned to him. “Do you regret it?”Lucien didn’t look up from the flames. “Only that I waited so long to touch you.”Her breath c
Craving Forbidden Pleasures Chapter 5The Reckoning of Faith
The morning after the garden, Emilia woke to silence.Not peace.But the heavy, suffocating kind of silence that hangs before a storm.She lay in her narrow cell, limbs still aching with pleasure, her skin marked by Lucien’s mouth and hands. But it wasn’t shame that made her tremble now—it was the sharp, gnawing edge of fear. Something had changed. The air in the convent no longer felt neutral. It pulsed with suspicion.She rose slowly, fingers tightening around her rosary. She hadn’t dared ask for forgiveness.Not after what she’d offered freely the night before.At the morning meal, no one met her eyes.Sister Agnes avoided the seat beside her. Sister Miriam whispered into her sleeve, glancing at her with narrowed eyes. Even the Mother Superior, normally stern but fair, watched Emilia with a sharpened gaze—silent, observant.Something had been seen. Something had been heard.She was sure of it now.After breakfast, Emilia fled to the sacristy, where the scent of oil and incense alwa
Craving Forbidden Pleasures Chapter 4: The Garden of Temptation
The convent bells tolled vespers, echoing across the fields and corridors like a sacred warning Emilia no longer heeded.She stood by the fountain in the inner cloister garden, the stone cool beneath her bare feet, her wimple discarded, her veil unworn. The evening breeze kissed her flushed skin, and still she burned.Since that morning in the grass, she had not slept.Not truly.Lucien haunted her dreams, her thoughts, her every breath. She could feel the echo of him inside her even now, a dull ache between her thighs that pulsed with memory. The garden—once her refuge—had become the site of her undoing. Her sins bloomed among the roses.She didn’t hear him approach. She never did anymore."You're not hiding well," Lucien murmured from behind her, voice low and dangerous.She turned slowly.He stood in his cassock, though it hung looser now, as if he, too, no longer wore the uniform of God with conviction. His collar was undone. His gaze devoured her.“I’m not hiding,” she replied, l
Craving Forbidden Pleasures Chapter 3: Saints and Sinners
Three days passed.Three days of silence and guilt, of stolen glances across the chapel, of hearing his voice in sermons that had once been a comfort but now were a slow kind of torture. They didn’t speak of what had happened—not in words. But every time their eyes met, the air between them sizzled with memory. Every brush of a sleeve in the cloister hallway, every moment in the same room, was a war between restraint and hunger.Sister Emilia’s sleep was restless. When she closed her eyes, she felt again the creak of the altar beneath her, the heat of his breath, the taste of his mouth. She could hear the way he had groaned her name into the quiet dark. And each time, she woke aching, her body already wet, her thighs pressed together in futile denial.On the third afternoon, she took refuge in the convent garden. The summer sun slanted through the branches of the old olive trees, scattering patches of gold across the grass. She sat on the worn stone bench near the fountain, beads of h
Craving Forbidden Pleasures Chapter 2: The Consecrated Sin
The chapel was a vault of shadows at midnight, hushed and unmoving, as though the world itself were holding its breath. The air was heavy with incense and the faint waxy sweetness of candles burning low on the altar. Their flames sputtered softly, sending thin ribbons of smoke upward, the wax bleeding in slow tears that pooled like molten sorrow at their base.Sister Emilia stood before the Virgin’s statue, her bare feet cold against the stone floor. She was not praying. She hadn’t prayed—not truly prayed—for days. Her lips still shaped the familiar words of her devotion when others were present, but her heart no longer dared to believe they would be heard. She had broken too much. She had surrendered to the one temptation she had sworn to resist, and instead of remorse cleansing her, it had only left her wanting more.Her hands were fists at her sides, the rosary she usually clutched lying forgotten in her cell. The pale light from the candles brushed her face, catching the glint of
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