The convent library was a place that tended to attract as many devotees of debauch as it did of knowledge. Syncletia had also fully experienced the erotic charge of confession, and had left the chapel in as cum-splattered a state as fitted with her sexual inclinations about the act.
She hoped none of the novices had been too affected by her exertions in the confessional booth. They were far from raw youths, but there had been occasions where some of the more eager acolytes had required a spell in the infirmary to recuperate properly after sampling Syncletia’s voracious sexual power. Some of these had been known to declare that they had been transported to another realm, exulting in religious visions as they had to have their brows mopped by patient sisters as they writhed in delirious pleasure after experiencing Syncletia’s talents with her mouth, or having stuffed her tight, slick pussy or known the pleasures of the constricting passage of her rectum. Instances were catalogued where the novices experiencing these devotional raptures stayed as hard as iron bars, their brawny, overstimulated penises ejaculating helplessly every fifteen minutes for days on end. No remedy could be found except to wait out the fever, some of the more deeply affected acolytes having to be determinedly milked of their sticky seed as the poor aspirants raved, rolling eyed, and rictus-grinned about Christ, Syncletia, stolen gospels, and a mysterious whore. Some called her a ‘priestess’ whore, some called her a ‘princess’ whore – sometimes the words were indistinguishable.
It was all very strange, but the fever-brained rantings of these simultaneously broken and exultant novices added a layer of mystery and sacred intrigue to Syncletia herself that her preternatural sexual talents did nothing to belie. It was not only novices that had succumbed either. The Abbess had sent Syncletia away with a flea in her ear following an embarrassing scenario where she had been designated to orally pleasure and extract the spunk of an older and distinguished legate that was visiting the Convent as a measure to allow him to relax after his journey. Eight hours and five pints of heavy, thick, white potent churchman cum that had sprayed out of his cock and all over Syncletia, the walls, floor, windows and ceiling of his nicely appointed room later, the legate had needed to take to his bed for the entirety of his stay in order to recuperate, and, it was rumoured, was later struck from his position after being rendered impotent thereafter.
Perhaps Father Lucius would start to vary his disposition towards harsh penance for Syncletia. Or perhaps, in setting her devotional tasks that meant she could whirl through the whole Convent in no time, he was testing her somewhat. Either way, Syncletia wasn’t going to start being a good girl if she was going to be rewarded with twelve cocks a time.
Confession was close to heaven for Syncletia as any sacrament could transport her. The smell of incense was as likely to make her cream whatever decadent, barely-there panties she was wearing as that of spunk or girlcum, wrapped up as it was with associations of her unfulfillable inclinations to be an avatar of Christ’s love, detailing her exploits, and being charged with penance that would sate her ferocious sexual hunger. With all that said the library was equally as hallowed a place to her.
The gorgeous tattooed bimbo nun slut opened the heavy door and stepped inside the library. Virtually naked in her tiny black slingshot, she strode on her boots into the main chamber, the split sides showing off her strong, smooth quad muscles, her huge round spherical buttocks rolling behind her on each step.
There were quite a few rooms to the library, depending on the type of resource one wished to view. The main chamber was the largest, with a large open space in the centre, where desks were set out in rows for study, and tiers of floors on either side where reference books could be located. Mid-morning sunlight was now filtering through slats in the vaulted ceiling, and a few scholarly-minded souls were scattered about the place.
Ball-gags, or other silencing equipment, was mandatory. A large variety of that particular apparatus hung on a stand at the entrance. Syncletia selected a gag that had the appearance of a huge pair of pouting bimbo lips with a large hole in the centre of them that held her mouth open appropriately, just in case someone felt the need to skullfuck her while she was on the way to Faustus. In tandem with the half mask that obscured the top half of her face, she was almost completely disguised. Though no-one could see Syncletia’s statuesque, sinful, fuckdoll body striding around and fail to recognise it. Fitting in on around her head, she prowled through the rows of tables, as sleek and predatory as any panther, her absolutely massive tits jutting forwards, the monster, spherically-shaped globes jutting out the tiny straps of her back slingshot.
On the first desk she passed two novices were tearing into a nun, double-penetrating her in the pussy and ass. As she approached, all Syncletia could see were a broad pair of pumping buttocks and two, hugely erect, distended members both sawing into the smooth, leaking holes of a Sister of Christ. A brutally administered double-penetration, the desk shook and thumped beneath the trio as the novice on top hammered his monster pussy-missile into the sloppy cunt of the nun, spreading her legs wide as he fucked her. Syncletia could hardly resist closing her hand around the flapping pair of balls that clapped against the nun’s pussy as he passed, squeezing and stroking with practiced style to ensure he barked a muffled shout in surprise into his ballgag as he loosed his load into the slut, his whole body shuddering at the climax, the slut nun getting nailed throwing her legs upwards and extending them, black stripper sandals kicking out as Syncletia walked past.
Syncletia decided not to count the orgasm she had stimulated as counting towards her penance, since technically Lucius had told her to please a ‘cock’, and she hadn’t so much as touched the novice’s fuckstick.
The next table featured more two on one action. Two novices were putting the finishing touches to a massive double facial of a nun, who Syncletia recognised as Sister Harmony. Known for her passivity, sister Harmony was reading, the tome open in front of her on the desk as a pair naked, monstercocked acolytes wiped the drooling tips of their dripping, throbbing, post-orgasmic monster schlongs on her flowing PVC wimple from either side. Harmony’s ballgag was inserted, her bimbo lips plump around it, and her perfect, deep and even bronze tan was speckled with pearly splattering of semen that bejewelled her face, her large eyes sparkling in devotion in the midst of the irregular patterning of semen that clung to it. There were thick splashes observable in her blonde tresses sticking out from the back of the shiny black headgear, and a rope of semen swinging from her chin that was stubbornly attached, which danced but somehow never dislodged itself, despite the odd blobs that dripped elsewhere from her chin onto her enormous naked boobs that sat just on the table.
Syncletia passed by the remainder of the devout, and went into the next chamber of the library, where older, more sacred, and more arcane texts were to be found.
