teared apart

religious!illi who was raised in a strict, staunch catholic family. church service every sunday morning, bible study twice a week. a thoroughly annotated bible on her bedside, carried on her person at all times like armor.

religious!illi who started to feel unnatural thoughts about women as a teenager, notions that scared her. twisting her stomach into confused knots of lust and disgust. her girlhood companions are obsessed with ideas of marriage, boys, motherhood and replicating the perfect nuclear family each of them were born into… but not illi.

religious!illi who prays nightly before bed, a rosary wrapped about her fingers like an anchor, asking for god to listen to her, begging him to rid her of these thoughts that plague her; the tightness in her chest when she sees a woman’s nude form, the wet warmth that forms between her legs that follows, the desire to dip her fingers down and down.

religious!illi feeling too ashamed to touch herself and give into her carnal desires, despite how it plagues her mind more and more every day. she prays more intensely until her pale knees are bruised from kneeling against the hardwood of her bedroom floor.

religious!illi’s perverse mind racing after spending the day at the local pool in the peak of summertime, in the company of a throng of girls in scantily clad bathing suits and bikinis that leave very little to the imagination; soaked in sweat, tanning oil that glistens in the sun, body mist of all scents that tickle illi’s nose as they walk past. their tits bouncing as they walk to and from the pool, the contour of their cunts viable through the sodden material. fuck.

religious!illi’s resolve shattering as she slips her panties carefully down her ankles in the dead of night, trembling fingers exploring the wet warmth between her legs. a feeling of electric zip through her heaving form when she brushes her thumb against her fat clit, engorged and sensitive and needy.

religious!illi finding a rhythm as she’s exploring her neglected cunt, swimming in those depraved thoughts that has haunted her. ignoring years of teachings, because what could be so sinful about pleasure? illi’s two fingers pressing hard against her clit, moving in a circular motion as a wave of warmth flushes throughout her belly. bucking her hips up for more, feeling her hole leaking, craving something some knows but cannot reach.

religious!illi grinding against her pillow when she figures out her fingers alone aren’t enough to sate her illicit cravings, so close yet so far, unable to chase the distance of her pleasure. angling the flat of the pillow below her leaking cunt, moving her hips in exploratory, unsure notions waiting for it to catch. and it does. illi’s fat clit finding friction, keeping the pillow still with one white-knuckled hand as the other covers her mouth to stop the dirty sounds from coming out. dragging and bouncing and squeezing her legs together to retain the heat, until she finds explosive release all over the fabric—like a door marked ‘do not enter’ has finally been unlocked.

religious!illi’s post-nut clarity. praying extra hard the following morning, asking god to forgive her for her indulgence… but not before putting her pillow to her nose and inhaling, taking in her own scent and it going straight to her cunt.

religious!illi attending bible study soaked between her legs, sneaking off to the bathroom to play with herself. pulling her sodden, white panties to the side and exposing her cunt to the cold air. a shiver is sent through her. her clit is huge, almost like a small cock. she imagines a pretty girl sucking on it, teasing an orgasm out of her. illi spits onto her fingers and fucks herself, her tight cunt contacting around her digits as she lets her desires consume her. the sounds fill the room, wet slaps and chirps that escape illi’s mouth as she bites down onto the metallic taste of her tongue.

religious!illi buying her first porno magazine from a gas station outside of town. the hood of her jacket pulled up over her head, shakily handing the clerk $5 and immediately stuffing the magazine into her book bag and leaving before he can give her her change back. waiting until the house had gone quiet to tentatively unzip her bag and remove the magazine from the back, a woman’s large breasts splashed across the cover.

religious!illi fucking herself to these images all night long. bouncing on her palm, torturing her clit, as she flips the pages. girls in various positions, in various states of undress, baring themselves to her. when illi switches to her pillow, she tries to envision it’s a girl below her instead.

religious!illi who finds a catalog at the end of the magazine. advertising various toys, most of which are large and phallic shaped. but there’s something that catches illi’s attention.. a set of beads, the description stating they’re meant to be inserted into the vagina and slowly pulled out. illi inhales deeply, the idea coming to her as she looks to her bedside table—her rosary beads rested there, inviting.

religious!illi who stuffs her rosary beads into her cunt. the beads are made of glass and gemstone, the chain is metal. the cold rolls against the tight walls of her cunt. stuffing herself until only the crucifix is hanging from her wet hole. she can’t help but stare down at it, how fucking pretty it is. god may damn her to hell for this, but she doesn’t care.

religious!illi slowly pulling the rosary beads out of her cunt, so slowly. the beads are permeated, glistening in the moonlight. illi isn’t done, dragging the crucifix against the tip of her clit. the pleasure isn’t great, but the cold is enough to send a wave over her.

religious!illi who comes home from bible study one evening to her mother, father and their priest sat at the kitchen table, with her porno magazine in the centre of it. the shame, like hitting her head against a brick wall. her father calls her perversion disgusting, her mother hangs her head in shame, begging to know how she failed her.

religious!illi who promises, pleads to be forgiven. crying through her tears that she can change, that she needs help and will do anything. in that moment she feels dirty, if she scrubbed her skin until it was raw and pink and bleeding she’d still feel trapped in this cage of degenerate lust. even now her cunt is pulsing, begging for attention.

religious!illi who feels somewhat at peace when the priest suggests becoming a nun, seeking penitence for this sickness of her mind and devoting her life to god.

﹙ ♰ ﹚

nun!illi who spends the following few years in reflection, pushing away these thoughts and desires to stop them from consuming her. her life at the convent is peaceful and regimented, her routine is strict enough that she has little time to think or feel. early morning prayers, days full of mission work. illi tries to never be left alone.

nun!illi who never touches her cunt, knowing if she does she won’t be able to stop. there’s a perpetual wetness and want she cannot let herself give into.

nun!illi who thinks she’ll be okay here, until you join the convent. fresh-faced, innocent looking. shapeless underneath your habit, but your face… it has permeated into her mind. your smile, the gleam of your eyes in the sunlight. you figure sister illi is just nervous when she introduces herself, she’s unable to meet your eyes. you do not notice the rogue piece of hair peaking from your veil until her hand reaches out to tuck it back into place, her hand rests on your face for a moment too long before she snatches it back.

nun!illi whose needs grow too large at times, like a monster clawing at her conscience. at times she thinks you’re the devil, or a test sent from god. a temptation made for her alone. she’s overwhelmed by want, to release. her prayers become longer, more thoughtful, more desperate. albeit her thoughts always lead back to you. you, you, you.

nun!illi who flagellates herself before bed. the whip is of knotted leather, searing her flesh as she hits herself. across her back, her breasts. she’s more brutal between her legs, leaving small lacerations on her thighs. occasionally one of the knots drags across her cunt, catching her clit and the euphoria burns.

nun!illi allowing herself moments of freedom to imagine, to think of you. reaching her hands beneath her slip to fondle her pillowy tits, wondering how big yours are. asking herself what your pussy looks like, would your clit be engorged like hers or would she have to spread your pussy open to find it? what sounds do you make when she fucks you with her fingers? would you let her whip your pussy, too? god, she’s a filthy fucking whore.

nun!illi becoming obsessed with you, finding subtle ways to be in close proximity to you. sitting next to you in the chapel during morning prayer, asking to walk in the garden together after breakfast, sitting next to you at dinner. illi breathing in your scent, memorizing the way you smile and laugh, scraps of information to lock away in her wank bank for later.

nun!illi and you being roomed next to each other, and the walls are.. thin. you wake in the middle of the night to breathless sounds from your fellow sister’s room. at first you’re concerned, worried she may be sick and pressing your ear curiously against the wall separating you to get a better listen. you hear the bitten-back moans, the soft slaps, the sounds of fabric rutting. you have all taken vows of celibacy, but you are all still temptations of the flesh. you decide you’ll say an extra prayer for her the following morning, unbeknownst to the fact illi is saying a prayer of her own for you as she rides out her orgasm.

nun!illi inviting you to her room after everyone else has gone to bed to say extra prayers together. you figure she could use the help and distraction, given her struggles and perversions, and accept the invitation. but this prayer session was anything but.

nun!illi who opens up to you about her thoughts and desires, the images and wants that plague her every thought. you sit and listen, because what else can you do? she doesn’t seem sad, or ashamed. she speaks matter-of-factly, unable to meet your gaze. not because she’s embarrassed, but she doesn’t want to soak her panties more than they are in your presence. it’s clear she needs a friend, someone who will not judge. you put it upon yourself to be that friend. oh, what a mistake..

nun!illi who pours her perverse thoughts onto you, using you as an outlet. this is apart of her plan… so innocent and kind you are, helping her out like this, unaware how she’s slowly corrupting you mind. you go to bed thinking of her desires, your prayers are laced with them. your poor sister, stricken by immoral and unnatural thoughts. it’s fucking contagious.

nun!illi who knows you touched yourself last night. you’re not as quiet as you think, the walls are thin on both sides. those little, choked sounds you make. fuck.

nun!illi pondering during morning prayer in the chapel, knelt beside you, what you were thinking about as you fucked yourself. she hopes it was her. your guilt is poignant, still praying even after the rest of your sisters have left to break their fast. but not illi, no. aware of well the chapel carries sound, illi speaks in a whisper. you expect her to ask if you’re okay, remind you breakfast is soon. she asks, “are you wet, sister y/n?”

nun!illi who feels the heat radiate from you, pooling at your cheeks. you are, you’re soaking. it’s all her fault, all those dirty thoughts she shared with you. you’re corrupted just like her. you can’t look directly at her, you focus your gaze on the alter, begging for forgiveness. you don’t hear god, only illi as she whispers to you.

nun!illi’s words that come off as commands to your fragile mind. illi telling you she’ll guide you through it, you can do it together, here. god will forgive you, he has to. the sound of rustling fabric fills the chapel as you both lift up your habits above your knees, illi telling you to wet your fingers on your tongue and dip them between your legs.

nun!illi and you fingerfucking yourselves in the chapel, the illicit sounds of muffled pleasure and wet slapping ought to make the building cave in and crush you. you both know your sisters are at breakfast, they won’t hear you. no one will hear you. so you ride your palm earnestly, chasing your pleasure miles ahead. you feel illi’s thigh brushing against words, look up a moment to see her face buried in the crook of her arm to muffle her mewling. it feels like forever before you both finish simultaneously.

nun!illi who visits your room that evening unannounced. you didn’t invite her, but the eyes you gave her all day—glazed over with desperation—is all the invitation she needed. you lie in bed, heart in your throat and your fingers gripping your rosary, waiting for the inevitable.

nun!illi wasting no time after locking the door behind her. descending next to you onto the bed and pressing her lips onto yours. she’s able to make out your shape much easier in your nightdress, the buds of your nipples on display through the airy white fabric. eager hands explore every inch of you, you lay there like a ragdoll, wanting to feel it all. you’re illi’s, you feel your virgin cunt leaking for her as she paws at you.

nun!illi who positions herself between your thighs. in truth, she’s never done this before, but she’s thought about it so much that she’s an expect. dreamed about it, fucked herself about it. her ghostly white complexion is flushed pink, taking a few enduring moments to analyze your perfect cunt before taking a long, languorous lick. it’s better than your fingers, better than anything in the world.

nun!illi who rubs circles on your clit with her thumb as she fucks you with her fingers, her words like velvet. “such a dirty whore, y/n.. so soaked f’me,” bobbing her head down to take a long, indulgent suck on your engorged clit. bathing in your pleasure, your rosary tangled about your fingers as they cover your mouth to stop too much sound coming out.

nun!illi who snatches the rosary from your grasp, to your shock, and begins dragging the crucifix pendant up and down your cunt. the edges collecting your arousal, so cold it sends a quiver up your spine. illi teasing the beads against your hole, pushing them in one by one. you mewl in protest, this feels too unholy. illi silences you by kissing you, slipping her tongue into your mother and you can taste yourself. moaning into her mouth as more of the glass beads slide into your needy cunt.

nun!illi admiring your stuffed cunt, holding your thighs open so you’re completely open and bare. arousal leaking from your hole, smeared across your thighs. the crucifix hanging out of your cunt, all soaked and blasphemous and beautiful. you buck your hips up needily, your clit throbbing from neglect.

nun!illi sucking your clit, looking up at you through long, dark lashes, as she slowly pulls the rosary from your cunt. you feel her breath against your nakedness as your toes curl, lolling your head against the pillows. you’re so wet the rosary doesn’t need much convincing to come out, the sodden beads a pile before your hole.

nun!illi taking the beads in her mouth, curling her tongue about every bead to collect the globes of your arousal that coat them. none of you must go to waste. you watch breathlessly, your legs still spread and exposed. wanting, leaking.

nun!illi tossing the rosary aside carelessly, crawling on top of you. bodies flush, running warm. she coaxes your mouth open, you’re awaiting a kiss.. but she lets her spit drip into your mouth, rubbing down your throat and smearing across your pretty lips. you poke your tongue out, collecting it all.

nun!illi who falls asleep soundless beside you, contented and fulfilled. but you cannot sleep.. unable to process all that occurred tonight. watching the clock tick on, waiting for first light to filter through the curtains so you can usher illi back to her room.