The next night after vespers, I slipped through the shadows of the abbey like the sinner I had become. My habit felt heavier than usual, the fabric brushing against my still-sensitive n*****s and the dried c*m Father Dominic had left on my thighs.
I knocked softly on the heavy oak door to his private chambers.
“Enter, Sister Elena.”
His voice alone made my p***y clench.
Father Dominic stood in the center of the room wearing only his black cassock, open at the front. The sight of his muscular chest and that massive, already-hard c**k made fresh shame flood my cheeks.
“Lock the door, child,” he commanded. “And remove your habit. Slowly. I want to watch God’s bride strip for her priest.”
My hands trembled as I obeyed. “This is blasphemy, Father… We’re desecrating our vows. I’m supposed
