1. The Passion of Agnes Part 5


    Date: 11/23/2015, Categories: Lesbian, Author: Audrey_X, Rating: 5, Source: LushStories

    calling, hands primly folded in her lap, as if she had all the time in the world. I don’t know what sort of first impression Clarissa, the Abbess I mean, made on you Sister Agnes but as for me…(and here she sighed deeply) I must say I have never met anyone like her. Grimaldus whistled under his breath when he saw her. Her plain nuns habit never manages to suppress what Nature has so lavishly endowed her with, don’t you agree?” Here we both giggled like old friends. I was glad to note her naughty sense of humor. She noticed me right away and I quailed shyly under her appraisal. She hadn’t expected me and I could see an impromptu calculation taking place in the depths of her smoldering eyes. I know I blushed. I sensed that she approved of me somehow. The men said little in response to her inquiries about me, simply saying they’d picked up an extra whore on the way. She commanded the Sauvois’ in a voice smooth as velvet yet harsh as the cry of an owl. The couple met all of her little demands, and a whole host of them there were, with the utmost celerity, as if she were the true owner of the Inn! They fairly quaked in her presence. Clarissa led us into the great hall, the couple looking very anxious and unhappy but nonetheless servile. We entered and a shout of approval went up from Beautoix, who was feeling better now, and his ruffians. Entering last I saw five enchanting women, generously built and alluring, holding salvers on which were choice wines and jeweled goblets. They ...
    wore nothing but nuns coifs and crucifixes round the neck. I was shocked that they would blaspheme so merely for erotic savour. They were undeniably beautiful; I had never seen a womans nudity apart from my own. But I no longer felt sorry for the fate of these who, along with me, were to be slaves to some Mongol or Moghul or Sultan, seeing clearly now that they were simply harlots and the so-called Abbess nothing but a procuress, albeit a truly charismatic one. Under the Abbess’ supervision M. Sauvois spread a great feast. The whore nuns were to be our servants. I could hardly believe my eyes or my nose as dish upon succulent dish appeared at table: roasted capons, pickled duck eggs, suckling pig with thyme and mushrooms, leeks with almond milk, cinnamon and roses, a fried chicken dressed with capers and oysters. Bottle upon bottle of fine wine. Even at Christmas I never knew such a bounty. My stomach growled. If there was any lingering reserve with these men, any slight pique at having to deal with a powerful assertive woman, it vanished at the enticements of the table and the flesh. They fell to greedily. The women poured the wine and submitted coquettishly, squealing and giggling, to being roughly handled, smacked and pinched. Clarissa laughed as if in camaraderie with these boors, a laugh as limpid and cold as a mountain stream. Her confidence, nay her total superiority, was never in doubt. Could it ever be? Even these men were disarmed by her and, despite the perfidy in ...
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