Suitably attired, Syncletia left her cell, closing the door behind her and making her way down the dormitory corridor. It was still quite early and there weren’t any of her sisters about yet, with the strip lighting of the corridor giving way to the pale daylight seeping through the large window at the end of the corridor. Syncletia had heard tell of churches, monasteries, and convents in the pre-Christfall that were constructed of hard carved oak, or blocks of heavy medieval stone. Imposing structures yet with little about them that could be called comfortable. This one did not have the gravitas of those places of old, where the church – the old church – wielded significant power, and commanded huge resources, but the aseptic plaster walls and concrete floors still gave it an ascetic dimension. The overall effect was, as with Sycletia’s austere diet, one which stimulated her senses, and allowed her imagination to overpower the uninspiring co-ordinates of her surroundings. Devotion, for The Nuns, was not merely physical. Their minds too were continually pushing at barriers and transcending their earthly confines.
Syncletia hoped to reach Confession ahead of any of her Sisters, but as she hurried to The Booth and descended the stairs and crossed the lower hallway, she could see a glimpse of a form of worship that appeared to have taken all night and which was now apparently reaching its conclusion. There were rooms situated off this corridor that were preserved for communal worship, and one was currently occupied.
Though a half-open doorway, Syncletia saw one of her sisters, kneeling at the foot of a rumpled, satin-sheeted bed, a large cross mounted on the wall behind the bedstead caught in a backwash of dim lamplight. The doorway was open enough for Syncletia to witness the final moments of a pussy-lubricating diorama that made her instinctively dip her finger between her lips as she saw it. The sister in question, a Nun two or three years her senior called Lymara, was administering the final touches to a carnal sacrament, accompanied by a pair of Priests.
Lymara was clad in the vestiges of what was originally a more complete devotional attire which was not so very different to what Syncletia herself was wearing. Mostly it fitted the Nun aesthetic of shiny vinyl and skintight latex, preferably black.
She was wearing a pair of black, shiny latex stockings that sheathed her long legs completely as she kneeled at the foot of the bed, her chest upthrurst and back arched. The material was absolutely skintight and encased the entirety of both of her legs, each slender, long, shapely limb sporting shiny black vinyl stripper sandals with platform soles and what looked to be at least six-inch stiletto heels, which were buckled at her heel. A black, crotchless, shiny pair of bikini style bottoms, with little bows tied over her succulent, curvy hips, revealed her glistening pussy lips through the gaping slit. A thick, slowly emerging cord of gluey white spunk was emerging from Lymara’s cunt, the gooey rope of viscous fluid roping between her slender legs and connecting her glistening slit to the prayer mat beneath her. Above this, a black PVC corset was clasped around her slender midriff, but the garment was cut away at the bust, so that Lymara’s absolutely massive knockers jutted out of her torso, a pair of spherical, head-sized orbs that protruded out underneath her chin. She was wearing a shiny black choker around her neck with a silver cross dangling from it, and also had on matching vinyl latex gloves on which went all the way up her arms; these were fingerless. Rounding off Lymara’s slutty fetish Nun outfit was her version of a wimple: a glossy black hood with a hole at the top through which her hair appeared in a flowing plume of thick tresses, the garment encasing her neck the sides of her face.
Syncletia paused as she passed the doorway and lingered as Lymara caught her eye. An unbelievable slut with an extraordinary fuckdoll body, Lymara was framed on each side by a pair of Priests that Syncletia knew quite well: Brother Adam and Brother Isaac. Nuns and Priests both occupied different wings in the same institution, but regularly engaged in acts of devotion together, so pretty much all of them knew each other intimately.
So far as Syncletia was concerned, she was already very well-acquainted with the massive turgid fucksticks that her co-religionists were sporting, having been comprehensively spitroasted by the Brothers on a variety of occasions. Adam and Isaac liked to worship together, a fact which delighted many of the Nuns. Like all the post-Christfall generation, Adam and Isaac were curse-blessed with incredibly powerful physiques and near-superhuman masculine potency that far exceeded the capacities of the pre-fall humans, and with their training, devotion and spiritual exercise, were approaching the apex of what was believed to be possible so far as male sexual capabilities went. Each of the Priests was a solid-gold stud, which the way in which both their hulkingly sized, incredibly brawny, vascularly bloated and muscularly inflated pair of meat-missiles attested.
Presently, both Priests were putting the final touches to their pumping out a sticky dual horseload of thick, gooey spunk all over Lymara’s face, shiny hood, and tanned, gleaming, protruding tits, which added to the mess that that had already splattered into her cunt. Adam and Isaac, their two giant, meaty, and glistening prongs glinting in the lights as each of them, craning up on their tiptoes, firmly wrung their monstercocks with their clinching hands, sliding their fingers down their rigid fourteen-inch lengths to squeeze the final ropes of spunk all over Lymara. Syncletia looked at the way that the two boiling loads had mixed together to make a splattering, plastered mess on the smiling Nun, who opened her mouth further and stuck her tongue out, letting a molten welter of glistening cum cascade over her jaw that slithered down between her massive tits and then slowed to a dribble that stuck to her chin and dangled there.
On Isaac’s side, there were several laces of thick, dangling, gooey semen that roped from the underside of the Priest’s mammoth pillar of flesh, including, after Isaac had taken his hand away and let it fall to his side, one gelatinous rope, clumped with sticky, pearly globules, that extended from the gleaming purple crown that divided into two, one more heavily weighted cum-cord attached to Lymara’s chin and the other creamy string stuck to her eyebrow. Lymara was splattered with several ropes of gooey spunk that were distributed over her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead and eyes, with streaks weighing heavily in the blonde hair that burst in a plume from the hood, with Adam flicking the last of his load into her face from the other side with a practised up and down swipe of his brawny cum-pump.
