Chapter 5: Insertion

Convent of Saint Amara – Midnight

The convent was quiet, deep in the night. The stone walls felt cold, and the few candles in the hallway cast long, shaky shadows. All the sisters were asleep, dreaming of their prayers and duties.

All but one.

Sister Emilie  lay in her narrow bed, too restless to sleep. Her thin nightgown was already twisted around her. She'd told the others she needed extra candles to read her holy books in the dark. She'd said her eyes weren't very good.

It wasn't a total lie. Her eyes did fail her, but not for reading. They failed her when she saw pictures in her mind: hands touching, mouths, and feelings that weren't allowed in a convent. These pictures wouldn't leave her alone.

The candles weren't really for reading.

Three now glowed beside her bed, making her skin look golden. Her thighs shone. Her nightgown was pushed up to her waist, showing her bare hips. Her breasts rose and fell quickly under the thin fabric, her nipples hard in the cool air, waiting.

She reached for the thickest candle.

It was still warm. A little bit of wax still felt slick at its bottom. She ran her tongue around the tip, then kissed it softly. She whispered a secret, a sin, that only God and the shadows could hear.

Her legs opened wide. Her fingers teased herself open first, then she gently pushed the candle's tip against where she ached.

It slid in slowly.

A gasp escaped her lips. The thick wax stretched her, little by little, until she felt it beating deep inside her. Her hips lifted and rolled. Her hand moved, pushing the candle in and out of her wetness, faster and faster. Her breathing became quick and rough. Her mouth opened in soft moans that filled the quiet room.

Sister Emilie  was lost. She was pure need, pure want, a rebel wrapped in white cotton and candlelight.

She didn’t hear the soft creak of her door.

She didn’t see the dark shape standing in the doorway.

Abbess Agatha stood still, not moving. Her body was tight as she watched what was happening. Her mouth opened a little, but no sound came out. First came a shock, like a cold splash—but then something much hotter. Something that curled deep in her stomach and burned.

She should have turned away.

She didn't.

Her hand slowly reached down. She lifted the edge of her black nun's robe, sliding her fingers under the thick fabric, past her underwear, to the hot, aching spot between her legs. Wet. Already slick. Already giving her away.

Her fingers found her clitoris and rubbed in circles.

Sister Emilie  was moaning louder now, her back arching. The candle went deeper with each push. Her body twisted, her moans sinful, desperate, beautifully dirty. Her pleasure filled the room like perfume.

Abbess Agatha leaned against the doorframe, her eyes half-closed, her breath catching. Her fingers moved faster, matching Sister Emilie ’s rhythm. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Her own desire was flowing through her. Shame twisted in her chest as her pleasure grew.

Sister Emilie  came first.

Her cry was loud, a long, shaking sound of release that echoed off the stone walls. Her thighs trembled. Her back arched high. Her body squeezed the candle as her orgasm took over her like a storm. She fell back onto the bed, breathing hard, glowing, completely undone.

And that was all it took.

Abbess Agatha's own orgasm hit her a second later—silent, but just as strong. Her knees shook. Her lips parted as her body trembled. Her fingers were slick with her own release. She leaned against the wall, trying not to fall down.

Then...

She pulled herself together.

She took her hand away. Fixed her robes. Wiped her fingers quickly on her sleeve. She stepped into the room as if she had just walked in.

“Sister Emilie !”

The young nun gasped, her eyes wide with fear when she saw she wasn't alone.

She scrambled to pull her nightgown down. The candle lay wet and used beside her on the bed. “Mother Abbess—I—I didn’t mean—I didn’t know you were—”

Abbess Agatha’s face showed perfect shock and strictness. Only a faint blush on her cheeks and a shine in her eyes showed anything more.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, her voice cool and sharp.

Sister Emilie  covered her face, shaking with shame. “I’m sorry. I tried to stop—I swear—I just…”

Abbess Agatha walked across the room, her steps steady and calm. She sat on the edge of the bed, close to Sister Emilie ’s bare thighs. Her fingers brushed the warm sheets where the candle had been.

“You shamed yourself… with this?”

Sister Emilie  nodded, tears quietly running down her cheeks.

Abbess Agatha picked up the candle and looked at it. The end still glistened faintly with Sister Emilie ’s wetness.

“Do you understand how deep this sin is?” she murmured, almost too softly.

Sister Emilie  sniffled, her voice a whisper. “I didn’t know what else to do. I feel… trapped. I need to feel something. Anything.”

Abbess Agatha's gaze stayed on Sister Emilie 's face. Her chest rose and fell too quickly. She carefully put the candle back down.

“This will not go unpunished,” she said finally, standing from the bed. Her voice was firm, though it shook a little. “I’ll return tomorrow night. You and I will speak of this again. And if you cannot fight this temptation... then I will have to teach you discipline.”

She turned to leave.

But just before stepping into the hall, she looked back. Her voice was softer now, darker.

“Wash the sheets, Sister  Emilie . I'll bring the candles.”

To be continued…