Master of Two: Nascent Love (5 page)

Mary buried her face deeply in Ami’s slit
and moved her hands to the girl’s bottom, spreading the cheeks and
fingering the outer edges of Amiko’s innocent asshole. There had
been little penetration of the young woman’s orifices to that
point, and she was tight as could be.

The fingers rimming her anus were enough to
send Amiko over the edge, and she cried out softly, praising God
for his mercy and generosity.

The two held each other close for quite some
time, their simple unsophisticated pleasures enough.

“You must be a good girl when you are away,
Amiko,” Mary reminded the slender young woman.

“Yes, Sister.”

“I have heard the voice of one of God’s
angels, telling me how we may be redeemed for all of our carnal
sins together.”

Amiko came to one elbow and watched Mary’s
face intently, perhaps eagerly. “A penance, Sister?”

Mary nodded. “Yes, the final one before you
go. I hope God will protect you in your new life.”

“If it is the will of God, then I am His
servant,” Amiko confirmed.

“Even as an adult, you are so young,” Mary
pointed out, sitting up. “Go to my bag and bring back the flogger
to me. We shall begin our penance.”

“Yes, Sister,” Ami said, hurrying to do as
she was bid, her breasts bobbing prettily as she rushed. Within
moments she returned with the cruel horsehair flogger she’d come to
know and respect.

“Kneel and hide your face from the anger of
God,” Mary ordered.

Amiko obeyed, as Mary moved to stand beside
her where she knelt with her face pressed to the floor.

“Do you wish to be forgiven for your evil
carnality?”

“Yes! Pray God forgive me!”

“How can you make yourself worthy of his
forgiveness, sinner?”

“By suffering! By humbling myself before
him!”

“Now roll to your back, sinner, and open
your legs. Show God the depth of your depravity! Pray for
forgiveness!” Mary watched, raising her voice heavenward, praying
for Amiko’s salvation. “God, this unworthy sinner kneels before
You! See how she suffers in Your name in order to be redeemed! Take
pity upon her, Lord!” The horsehair flogger was immediately applied
to Ami’s most vulnerable, exposed areas—her pussy and nipples.
"Forgive her, Lord, for she is weak!” Mary cried, as the flogger
struck the penitent’s right nipple, leaving pink streaks of pain
behind. “Forgive her, Lord, for she is foolish!” she cried, as the
flogger struck Ami’s cunt, causing her bottom to rise up from the
agony. “Forgive her, Lord, for she is repentant!” was the third cry
as the flogger struck at the left nipple, matching those streaks
with the right. This litany was repeated over and over, until
Amiko’s screams crescendoed and her body pulsed with orgasmic
bliss. Her sweet pussy and nipples were bright red, oozing lymph
where the skin had been scraped raw.

That was Mary’s signal that God had granted
Ami forgiveness through the abnegation of her flesh. The nun bowed
her head and caught her breath “Remember, Amiko, that your
virginity belongs to Christ. Do not give it to someone
unworthy.”

Ami’s tear-stained face turned toward her
lover-confessor. “Yes, Sister,” she whispered brokenly. “I’ll give
it in His name.”

“Pray for me, Amiko,” was all Mary managed
to say before her throat constricted with a sob.

Amiko rose to her knees, trembling though
she was, and folded her hands in prayer, mouthing her rosary
silently, and begging for God to forgive Sister Mary Thomas for her
carnal sins.

After several minutes, Mary moved, this time
to lie upon her back as Amiko had done, spreading her knees. She
looked to Amiko, desperation on her face. “Please, Amiko, my sweet,
sweet friend. I can only ask this of you once. I know it is foreign
to your nature, but I beg of you to help me touch the hand of God
as you have done. Please, Ami, take the flogger and show me the
way.”

Hesitantly, Amiko reached for the
instrument, its weight and size distinctly odd in her small hand.
She sought approval from Mary silently with her eyes.

“Do it, Ami. Please.”

Crying pitifully, and praying aloud, Amiko
began to do the task she’d been asked to do by her one and only
friend. Each time she tried to stop, Mary would grind out between
her tightly gritted teeth, “More, Ami. The rapture has not come to
me yet.”

And so she would apply the flogger to Mary’s
breasts and pussy another few times, not always hitting the targets
she intended as the fog of her tears overcame her again and again.
Mary finally whispered, “Stop,” and Amiko threw down the flogger
and buried her face in the pillows on her sleeping mat, hysterical
at what she’d done. Mary’s nipples were welted deeply, her pussy
oozing from a thousand tiny cuts. She had not achieved the state of
forgiveness. Again, God had not seen fit to accept her penance and
grant her redemption.

Mary threw the huge black habit over her
broken body quietly, grimly, and gathered up her things. “God go
with you, my dear,” she said softly from the doorway.

Amiko couldn’t even bring herself out of her
morass of self-loathing long enough to tell her dearest friend
good-bye.

* * *

Amiko’s trunks had long-since been delivered
to a storage facility which was holding them for her arrival in
Paris. Weariness warred with the excitement of being in a new city
as she came off the plane. She had only one small bag, carried onto
the plane with her, and so went directly to Customs, avoiding the
other 300 jostling travelers who had deplaned with her. Once
through customs, she stood at the exit doors of the terminal and
eagerly sniffed at the Parisian air.

Paris! Finally, to be away from the convent,
away from confinement and poverty.

She turned to hail a cab and was nearly
felled by a man moving quickly through the throngs. Her purse, the
only link between her and her new life as a student at the
Sorbonne, left with the thug at a much greater rate than he had
approached. Screaming, cursing, pleading, Amiko ran after the thief
to no consequence. Suddenly, a large man came out of the crowd
ahead and stuck out a beefy arm to halt the criminal.

Amiko’s papers, her small funds, addresses,
proof of scholarship, everything that her life hinged upon was
saved by this one act of heroism. To say that she was grateful to
the man was a gross understatement. Innocently, she praised the big
man who introduced himself as Marc Maroten. Ami further explained
her circumstances to him, telling him in her academic French, that
she had only just arrived in Paris for the first time and would be
seeking lodging near the University. Classes were due to start in
three weeks. Did he know of a modest boarding house she might find
near there?

Marc had immediately offered the lovely
nineteen-year-old a suite in his home. He told her that he was a
bachelor living in an old house that was really too big for him
alone and yet was too valuable to be sold at the current market
prices.

Over lunch, fascination for the man easily
overcame Amiko’s reticence to take such offers from strangers. He
was large, but muscular, and well-groomed, with a dark beard and
moustache and deep, deep brown eyes. His smile was engaging, and
his sense of humor was universal. As it turned out, he owned an
import/export business in Paris and had done considerable business
in Japan. The smattering of Japanese he’d picked up worked into the
conversation to help Amiko’s French.

In time, her fascination for Marc grew
beyond her ability to restrain her curiosity. Staying in his home
was comfortable, and though he was often busy and away, whenever he
was home he was affectionate and teased her in ways she’d never
experienced before. At first shy, Amiko learned accidentally that
her nudity brought her greater attention from the big man, drawing
his eyes as she walked from the bathroom to her bedroom one
afternoon when she thought he was out. She’d gone beet red with
embarrassment that time, but couldn’t seem to help herself and
found herself seeking more opportunities to tease his gaze toward
her.

He, too, began to allow her to see him nude.
When it first happened, a blush suffused her entire body, but Ami
could not turn her eyes away. Never before had she seen a man like
that, and the differences between their genders caused her flesh to
tighten and her breath to catch. A few days later, he asked her to
come scrub his back in the bathtub, and that same tightness cloaked
her along with the irresistible entrancement.

As she scrubbed his wide back, she’d taken
note of the firm texture of his skin, the paleness of her hands
against his olive tones. Gently, he asked her to remove her
clothing so that he, too, might admire her beauty. Caught in the
act of admiring him so openly, Amiko was compelled to comply to his
request. She peeled off her clothing and again knelt by the tub to
touch him with soap and washcloth.

His eyes held hers intently, as slowly, he
reached forward to touch a hard-pointed nipple. Her gasp seemed to
encourage him to further touches. Amiko’s body responded to the
familiar and yet new sensations his large, hard fingers brought
about, and there was clear evidence of his desire for her. Her eyes
widened and went immediately to his.

Wordlessly, he moved her soapy hand from his
shoulder to his raging hard-on. At first she resisted, knowing it
was sinful, knowing that it wasn’t right in God’s eyes. But he held
her hand in place on him, teaching her the stroking rhythm he
enjoyed despite her weak attempts to withdraw her hand. His
excitement wasn’t only written largely with his cock, it was also
potently clear on his face and in his eyes. Amiko found that
incredibly intoxicating—that she could produce such a reaction in
him was amazing and she wanted more!

There was little resistance left in her.
Amiko had to encourage him to take her further, faster as his hands
moved back to her breasts. Kneading, pinching, finding her
vulnerable to the pain/pleasure principle, he brought her over the
edge with a resounding climax. Gasping with reaction, her body
still shuddering its release, he lifted her by her narrow waist and
brought her into the tub to lie atop his body.

As his large, hard tool began to prod her
virgin interior, a tiny panic overtook Amiko. She struggled,
pleading with him to let her go, and striking his chest and face
with her fists until he caught her hands and held her still. He
simply held her there, not impaling her further until her panic
deserted her in favor of the sweet roughness of his palm stroking
her bottom. He murmured calming words, tender loving phrases
generously sprinkled with soft vulgarities which excited her
further.

Becoming more comfortable with her body
pressed so intimately to his, Amiko raised her bottom against his
palm, only vaguely aware that she was doing so. Several times, she
forced his palm to greater pressure on her soft flesh. She moaned
with delight as he tentatively tried a single wet spank.
Encouraged, he applied a few more, then reached between her legs to
the center of her excitement.

Whispering in her ear, he raised her hips
slightly, sliding his engorged cock along her slit as she arched
backward. She felt lithe and young, the blood-filled head of Marc’s
prick popping up between her virgin cunt lips and then out again
along her clit. Slowly, slowly, he lowered her on his phallus,
halting at the presence of the hymen. He murmured questions about
her innocence, establishing her lack of experience. And although
she was embarrassed by her carnal need and lack of sophistication
and became suddenly shy, she wanted to encourage him.

She complained in a moan of it hurting to
have him stretching her, and he made her admit, teasing her
unmercifully as he took things slowly, that she enjoyed the pain
and craved his cock. Soon enough she admitted her sinful lust and
begged him to stop teasing her. He hesitated. Amiko squirmed
against him, whispering the words for “more” and “please,” in
French. Warning her of the searing pain she might expect, he pulled
her down forcefully onto his large endowment, and she screamed and
thrashed against him, even while her body naturally drew him in
further and further.

A few drops of virgin blood stained the
water as she rocked against him, and not long after, she accepted
Marc’s seed and found her own stunning release.

Amiko stayed with Marc for two years,
learning his way of doing things and experiencing the sensations he
gifted to her. The first thing he taught her was contraception,
which was a practice Amiko knew went counter to the Church’s
teachings. She was not struck dead by God, though, so maybe it
wasn’t so bad as she’d been taught. Very soon after, Marc taught
her about the heightened delight of a man’s strong fingers on her
nipples. The harsh pressure gave her an electric jolt directly down
to her core.

His tongue on her sweet pussy wasn’t
anything like Sister Mary’s. His was relentless, never allowing her
to squirm away, no matter how intense the sensations, no matter how
many times she came with earth-shattering force. His hands on her
slender hips were strong when he tilted her bottom upward and took
her from behind.

The sounds and smells, the rampant heat of
his cock, were all highly intoxicating and she never tired of them,
constantly wanted more. She was always wet, always ready.

Near the end of their second year, he
started teaching her the positions of submission. It delighted her
no end to get down on her knees and kiss his feet. She knew
obeisance from her experience in the convent. It was comfortable
and familiar, and besides, she truly was worshipful of Marc. He had
given her so many moments of great pleasure; it was the least she
could do to give him the servitude he deserved.

Each day, she went off to school and he to
work, but at night, as the glittering lights of Paris came to life
around them, so too would their secret life awaken.