Nonne coquine et francaise se fait jouir au couvent avant la messe

“Sister Süreyya’s Sinner’s Confession”

The daylight peeked by the cracks within the outdated stone partitions, illuminating the mud particles dancing within the air. Sister Süreyya knelt earlier than the crucifix, her head bowed in prayer. But her thoughts was not centered on divine communion; as an alternative, it wandered to forbidden ideas, naughty fantasies that have been sinful and but, inexplicably thrilling.

As a nun of a secluded convent nestled within the French countryside, Süreyya had taken a vow of chastity. However, the extra she suppressed her carnal needs, the extra they consumed her. She would get up in the course of the night time, her physique aching for contact, her pores and skin screaming for pleasure. It was an inside battle she fought each day, a wrestle between her religion and her flesh.

One morning, as she ready for mass, Süreyya could not bear the heavy weight of her behavior any longer. With trembling arms, she unclasped her veil and let her wavy brunette hair cascade down her again. She gazed at her reflection within the small, tarnished mirror, and what she noticed was not a religious servant of God, however a younger lady with simmering needs.

Her fingers trailed down the curves of her physique, and she or he shivered on the sensation. “Süreyya, stop this,” she whispered, however her physique disobeyed. Her arms discovered their means beneath her lengthy black gown, and she or he gasped as she touched herself. “Oh, Jesus,” she moaned, now not praying however invoking His identify in pleasure.

Süreyya’s thoughts wandered to the intimate ideas she usually suppressed. Memories of her stepsister Lamia, their stolen kisses, and tender touches flooded her thoughts. Lamia had been her associate in crime, her confederate in revolt. Together, they’d explored one another’s our bodies, touching and tasting, studying the secrets and techniques of ecstasy.

As Süreyya’s fingers roamed her physique, she imagined it was Lamia touching her, caressing her, making her really feel alive. “Merde,” she cursed, a vulgar phrase slipping from her pious lips. She felt the forbidden thrill of blasphemy, the sinful pleasure of betraying her religion.

Süreyya’s respiration quickened as arousal consumed her. She might really feel the warmth constructing in her core, the wetness pooling between her thighs. Her fingers discovered their strategy to her most delicate spot, and she or he cried out as waves of delight coursed by her physique.

“Oh, mon Dieu, forgive me,” she whimpered, at the same time as she continued to pleasure herself. She might really feel her climax approaching, the stress constructing to an explosive crescendo.

With a remaining, determined cry, Süreyya reached her peak. Her physique convulsed with pleasure, and she or he collapsed to the ground, spent and panting. She lay there, bare and susceptible, the crucifix looming over her, a silent witness to her sin.

Tears streamed down Süreyya’s face because the disgrace crashed over her. She had betrayed her vows, betrayed her religion. She was a sinner, a whore masquerading as a nun. She felt soiled, unclean, dirty by her personal arms.

But at the same time as she wallowed in self-loathing, Süreyya knew she could not cease. Her need was too highly effective, too all-consuming. She was a slave to her personal lust, a prisoner of her flesh.

With a heavy coronary heart, Süreyya gathered her garments and commenced to decorate, getting ready for one more day of guilt and torment. She knew she ought to confess her sins, beg for forgiveness, however the considered admitting her disgrace out loud was an excessive amount of to bear.

As she exited the convent, Süreyya felt the burden of her sins on her shoulders. She was now not the pure and pious nun everybody thought she was. She was Süreyya, a sinner, a secret slut hidden behind a veil.

But at the same time as she walked to the chapel for mass, Süreyya knew that by dusk, she can be again in her room, her arms exploring her physique as soon as extra. It was a cycle of sin and guilt, pleasure and disgrace, and she or he was trapped in it, a prepared sufferer of her personal needs.

In the top, Süreyya knew she was damned. Damned for her sinful ideas, her filthy fantasies, her secret periods of self-pleasure. But at the same time as she stood earlier than the altar, her voice rising in prayer, she knew that deep down, within the darkest recesses of her soul, she wished to be damned.

She wished to be punished, to be cleansed of her sins by struggling. She wished to be saved from herself, from the demon of lust that possessed her. And so, she prayed for deliverance, at the same time as she knowingly extended her damnation.

It was a twisted contradiction, a prayer of guilt and need. But it was Süreyya’s secret, her hidden confession. And she would bear the burden of her sins in silence, a prepared martyr to the pleasures of the flesh.