Raped nuns in chains

Начало книги

Sister Bernice awoke gasping, her pillow drenched with sweat, the sheet under her churning ass slimy with the juices that were bubbling out of her spasm-wracked cunt. She shimmied her thighs together and moaned feverishly in the electrically charged atmosphere of her convent bedroom as the lightning flashed again and again outside and the thunder roared like a demon. But thank God for the thunder, she thought.

Thank God the thunder was drowning out her pained groans. At least tonight none of the other sisters would hear her in her shameful misery.

As the lightning slapped her again with its hellish blue light, as the thunder rattled the rain-battered windowpanes, Sister Bernice arched up one last time, her eyes rolling back from the intensity of her spasm. "Oh, God, oh, my."

She fell back at last, the autumn dampness, chilling her, and she groped in the darkness alongside her bed for the bedsheets and her nightgown. Unable to find the gown – she might have hurled it across the room during her sleeping fit – she drew the sheets up over her nakedness and sighed.

Читать дальше →