Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Three Step-Uncles Want Me (The Alcatraz Brothers): Kabanata 131 - Kabanata 140

"You poor thing." She whispered, leaning forward and closing her eyes. "Your needy scent is just heavenly."Her fingers pushed against my slit, and I felt the wet cotton shift as she moved them gently up and down."Didn't you like watching?"I didn't respond. I was too fucking horny.She licked along my inner thigh and I shuddered, dropping flat on my back as I lifted my knees.She helped guide my bare feet to the edge of the bed, and I felt her hot breath along my other thigh, and her fingers pulled at my panties, moving them to one side instead of taking them off."Oh wow." I said softly.My voice seemed loud in the quiet room, and I felt her tongue push into my hole and begin to lick up and down along my lips.Her fingers slid over my clitoris, and I grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread and raised my head, surprised at the speed of my approaching orgasm."You need this so badly." Sister Catherine said. "Just let it happen my dear."I felt her fingers begin to push into me, while her t

I froze, terror rushing through me. Father Roman’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp, commanding. His lips moved, no sound but a clear order: "Answer, her."I swallowed, my voice strangled, but forced steady. “Sister…”“I’ll be right back,” she said from beyond the door. “I need to meet with the Mother Superior now. I’ll come with a few more sisters to help.”Her steps faded. Silence fell like a curtain.His grip on me did not loosen.In fact, it tightened.I gasped, caught in his hold. His face was so close I felt the heat of his breath against my lips. He leaned in until the barest space remained, and then—Our mouths crashed.It was not soft. It was not tender. It was fire, fierce and unyielding. His kiss claimed me like a brand, and mine returned, desperate, frantic, helpless. My back struck the wall with a dull thud, pain sparking through me, but I didn’t pull away. His hands roamed, fierce, and mine clawed back at him as though I wanted to tear him into myself.He knocked the wind out

I couldn’t steady my breath when I left Sister Grace. Her words clung to me, her touch still alive on my skin. Every step down the hallway felt uneven, like I was walking in two worlds at once. One where I was meant to be a faithful sister, and another where my body was no longer mine, but a trembling instrument of desire.Her voice haunted me: discipline, obedience, humility. Each word sounded so pious, but under her tone it felt like a command that had nothing to do with prayer and everything to do with surrender.I pressed my palms together as I walked, trying to still myself, but they shook. My lips formed prayers without voice, empty words meant to cage a hunger that had grown too bold.I didn’t make it far before an older nun called to me. Sister Agnes, her face lined, her eyes dim but gentle. She carried a wooden box in her hands, small but heavy, and she stopped me with a kind smile.“Elsa, take this to Father Roman’s room, will you?”The name struck me like lightning. My brea

The scent of him was still on my skin.It was a foolish, frantic thought, one that had haunted me from the moment I’d slipped from Father Roman’s room and back into the cold silence of the convent at night. I had scrubbed myself raw in the dim light of the communal washroom, the water stinging against the tender marks his hands and mouth had left on me. I had changed into a fresh habit, the rough wool a familiar penance against my clean skin. Yet, as I had finally collapsed onto my narrow cot, the memory of his weight, his taste, the shattered sound of his release, had followed me into a deep, exhausted sleep. Fuck, it was good.Now, the afternoon sun slanted through the high window of our dormitory, painting a guilty gold on the floor. I was still groggy, my body feeling heavy and used, when the door opened. I had slept through the morning and ignored the morning prayers.The air changed. Two figures filled the doorway: Mother Superior, a tall, severe silhouette against the light, an

The transition from the cavernous, echoing hall was like stepping from a primal sea onto the shores of a more refined, yet no less sinful, paradise. This new room was smaller, intimate, its opulence a stark contrast to the raw stone of the orgy room. Damask wallpaper in a deep crimson swallowed the sound of moans, transforming them into a hushed, luxurious symphony. Thick, Persian carpets cushioned our bare feet, and the air hung heavy with the mingled scents of expensive perfume, spilled wine, and the unmistakable, musky tang of sex. People were everywhere, draped over velvet chaises, leaning against mahogany bookshelves, their bodies glistening in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. A nun with magnificent, grape-like clusters in her hands giggled as a priest plucked one from between her bare breasts, his mouth closing over the fruit and her nipple in one greedy motion. In another corner, a sister was bent over a gilded chair, her habit pushed up to her waist as a man behind her f