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Webb's Wonderful Web - Book 3 The War! – So far 
By Yotna El'toub  (MC,FF,MF,MM,Alien,SF)

With thanks to my proofreaders Esu and Scorpiocat, for their humour and friendship.
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Inspired by Lost Boys first competition and dedicated to the LB and his work.
WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit language of an adult nature and should be read only by those of a legal age to do so. If you are a minor or object to stories of an adult nature, LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the author is 18+ please abide to your own local laws. Please note and understand the content codes for this story.
 
The characters portrayed in this story are just that, characters in my story.  Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental and unintentional. The characters and situations portrayed are pure fantasy; the author is keen to state that in reality adult sexuality should remain only in the adult world. Please do not allow or cause this story to fall in to the hands of minors.

© Yotna El'toub 2004
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Chapter 1: Under siege

Dave yawned and lent back against the wooden shell of his stall ‘Shit things are sure slow in here today’. His half closed eyes watched a fly slowly buzz across the space of the shopping centre, its intention clear. Sure enough, the fly settled on the plump strawberries that filled the punnets at the front of his stall. One swift grab and the fly was trapped in Dave’s fist, he smiled ‘You have to be faster than that to catch out Dave Green’ he thought in triumph. But the high was short lived, the fly was duly squashed, and tedium descended once more.

Ella and Tina walked through the quiet centre, relieved to have so few competitors for the first of the summer sales. Ella turned nimbly on her heels and scooted into Prada, Tina, as always, followed in her friends wake; she knew Ella had a nose for the bargains, it was wise to let her sniff them out. 

Sure enough the girls were soon standing in front of a row of designer dresses, spring season wear for sure, but there were some very tempting clothes on offer. The dull thump of a rap song plugged away in the background, unwatched, MTV gyrated on the panel display behind them.

“Ella, we can’t afford to even look at these!” Tina whispered.  

“Who said anything about paying for them?” Ella smiled.

Tina felt the butterflies tapping against her lower stomach; she loved that feeling – the excitement - when Ella took control.

“Ella! You can’t, you’ll be caught, they are very security conscious here” Tina warned her friend half-heartedly.

“No I can’t, but with my help – you can!” Ella giggled softly.

“Me no! I couldn’t…” Tina’s eyes widened.

“Listen I’ve got a plan – it’s easy really!” Ella soothed.

Tina felt the rush, almost sexual, sweep over her; Tina bent her head to listen to her friend’s idea.

Soon Tina was walking towards the changing room with three dresses and Ella’s carrier bag. Her legs trembled, her mind fixed on the adrenaline rush.

“Three items, cubicle four please, madam” chimed the prissy assistant. Tina smiled nervously and disappeared into the indicated booth.

Once inside, she started to snip off the labels, and position them in the same places on the market bought copies. Soon only the security tags remained securely fastened to the expensive dresses. Tina carefully placed each one into Ella’s carrier bag, and then hung the copies onto the shops hangers. Her heart pounding, Tina drew back the curtain and strode out, replacing the three fakes on the rack before the self-assured assistant.

“Thank you madam, I am sorry they were not to your taste,” she said, with an insincere smile.

Tina was certain she heard a sneer in the practiced cultured tones but ignored it, and headed towards the front of the store. Suddenly all hell broke out - sirens screamed and red lights in the ceiling blinked furiously! Immediately Tina felt a hand close around her upper arm, she glanced into the eyes of the store detective; her heart missed a beat, and then two more.

“No need to panic madam, but we need to clear the shop, fire alarm – please go out through the fire doors over there and make your way to the right out into the esplanade” He advised in a calming voice.

Tina glanced around for Ella, the hesitation earning her a swift rebuke.

“Now madam, this is not a drill!”

Tina raced for the exit and out into the safe hallway, she emerged shaken and confused. A sudden whooping sound behind her made Tina jump.

“Tine it worked, it worked!” Ella cried, dancing around the confused teenager.

“What? Move away Ella, there’s a fire in the store!” Tina gasped.

“No there’s not, silly! Just a smoke bomb I set off,” Ella paused for breath, “No detectors on the fire doors, see?”

“Oh you silly bitch, you frightened me – so much,” breathed Tina in relief.

Ella giggled.

“I can see that, you’ve peed yourself girl!” Ella pointed to the dark stain on the crotch of Tina’s jeans.

“Oh that, that’s not pee…” Tina stopped mid-sentence, and then blushed deeply.

“You dirty bugger, it gets you going doesn’t it? Is that why you are always up for it? Ella grinned at her befuddled friend.

At that moment the store detective emerged from the fire doors.

“You two!” he shouted.

Ella and Tina froze.

“Move away from the fire doors right away, we need room for emergency access!” 

The girls moved away willingly, and kept on moving. They left the mounting crescendo of lights and sirens far behind them.

“So Miss sarcastic, are you saying our brush with the law there did nothing for your pulse?” asked an inquisitive Tina.

“It frightened the shit out of me - but it didn’t turn me on, you are just plain weird, Tine!” Ella smiled, trying to broker the peace.

“Well sod you Ella Fisher, so what if I gets a buzz; you got your precious clothes – didn’t you! Tina grumbled.

“Look I’m sorry, look - I’ll get you some of those strawberries and some cream – pretty please – I’m sorry,” Ella appealed to her friend’s sweet tooth.

“Um, alright then you’re forgiven then; but you have to feed them to me – like I’m a queen” Tina smiled, sheer devilment crossing her pretty features.

“Oh, well OK if it’ll make you happy,” agreed a downtrodden Ella, “but I get to keep all the clothes, deal?”

“Deal” agreed Tina.

The girls laughed, and walked off towards the stall, arm in arm.

Dave Green perked up, ‘This is more like it’ he though as he directed his best salesman’s smile at the approaching girls.

“Ladies, Dave Green’s the name, Green by name but not by nature” Dave winked.

“Yeah, sure, whatever – punnet of strawberries, and some cream!” Ella sighed.

“Strawberries, yes me dear picked by me own fair hand this mornin’, but no cream sorry; can’t keep it cool enough in this place!” Dave replied.

“Forget it then, dork – no cream no sale!” snarled Ella.

“No, don’t be mean to Dave, I’ll make do with just strawberries Ella” Tina cooed.

“OK then Romeo, big punnet of strawberries for my friend” Ella nodded.

“Sure, £2.85 please, madam”

“That’s a bit steep isn’t it” Ella protested.

Tina fidgeted, and nudged Ella hard in the side; grudgingly Ella paid Dave.

“And 15 pence change, madam” Dave offered.

“Keep it Davey boy, I’m sure you need it more than me” sneered Ella.

Dave shook his head as the girls walked away, ‘God, I’d like to show you a thing or two, you cheeky beggar’ he fumed in silence.

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Malcolm marched along the line of cars with military precision, he tutted at the tardiness of others. So far this morning he had booked 30 or so cars, and it was getting worse – what the hell was wrong with these people.
They got into that place and lost all sense of reality, buying their crap, and ignoring the rules.

“Idiot, damn idiots” Malcolm muttered into his much-loved black organiser, as he booked yet another offender.

Rules were important to Malcolm, rules and procedures, he had learnt in the Army how they could save your life. The memory of his Army days brought him to a sudden halt in his stride. Twenty years, twenty years of loyal service, and now this – a car park attendant for imbeciles!

His sullen reminiscing was brought to a shattering end, as a teenaged boy raced up to him on his BMX, raised two fingers and shouted coarsely.

“Malcolm the poofter, Malcolm the poofter – can’t catch my arse Gaylord!” screeched the spotty youth.

Stoical Malcolm ignored the pathetic teasing, he had put up with it all through his military career, one way and another. Malcolm was not gay, he was controlled, abstinent – it’s what mother would have expected of him. 

He sighed deeply, part of him was convinced he had been born on the wrong planet; he wasn’t like them, the pointers, the teasers, the absent minded. No he had a purpose, and that purpose was to end the chaos, to bring control and discipline to the world. Years ago he forgot about the world, deciding he could only bring it to himself and his life – it was his religion! 

Malcolm glanced down at his watch 10:44, time for a coffee; a minute marching and he would arrive at the café at 10:45 – precisely on time – excellent!

He stepped from his ordered world, into the chaos of Central Milton Keynes. He hated this place, garish adverts, and suggestive clothes – depravity. Malcolm upped his pace to a brisk double time, and stared resolutely ahead - ignoring all temptation. He rounded the corner toward the café and stopped. He let out a strangled cry – not believing his own eyes!

Three firemen, in a very unsuitable state of dress, ran after a screaming woman. Malcolm noted the woman was quite sensibly dressed, well apart from the large breast that flopped from side to side as she ran, billowing up the remnants of her tattered blouse. She ran straight up to Malcolm, gripped him tightly, and thrust her unwelcome naked breast into his serge uniform.

“Help me they’re beasts!” she gasped, trying in vain to pull together the flaps of her torn Prada blouse.

“Madam, control yourself I will sort out any unpleasantness; these men are fellow professionals” Malcolm stated coldly.

He strode confidently towards the front-runner in the group.

“Now see here chaps…”

The blow sent Malcolm reeling; his head struck the marbled floor with a sickening crack. The world swam around him, he blinked and almost blacked out; he fought back against the darkness and won. Struggling up on one elbow, he swung his head unsteadily following his attackers. They were gaining on the panicked woman; she disappeared like a frightened rabbit around the corner to the right. Her attackers paused, fighting for breath. ‘Good on her, she’ll get away’ Malcolm thought hazily.

Then for the second time in a few minutes he witnessed the unthinkable. The woman returned around the corner, now both breasts were exposed, and she caressed them in a most lewd way. Suggestively she licked her lips, as she walked towards the breathless fire crew. 

She knelt before the tallest one, a wiry lad of twenty or so, unzipped him and sank his erect member into her welcoming mouth. Her hands were not idle either; each one snaked into the fly of the other firemen and freed their organs, masturbating them wildly.

This was outrageous, they couldn’t do that here – this was a family venue! Innocents could be degraded – it was his duty to intervene. Ignoring the nausea and pain Malcolm struggled to his feet and made his way towards the fornicating group. It took him some time to traverse the short distance, and Malcolm arrived just in time for one of the firemen to release his steaming load. It hit Malcolm in the chest, stringing dripping whiteness all over the cherished serge jacket.

Malcolm saw red! He launched a feverish attack at the orgasmic man. Savagely beating him back from the floozy, she still entertained the others. 

The sheer brutality of Malcolm’s attack sent the injured fireman running for cover. A furious Malcolm dashed after him. Malcolm turned the corner and stopped dead!

 An entire shop front glowed with colourful swirling TV screens. Forty years of restraint broke in an instant. Unknown desire flooded every fibre of Malcolm’s being; he turned back and walked to the kneeling woman.

His hand rummaged under her skirt and pulled aside the sodden panties. In a second he was in her up to the hilt, he gasped at his pleasure - and moved on to a new phase of life. Order was gone – chaos ruled.

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Dave was marginally less bored; he stood arms folded, watching one teenage girl feed strawberries docilely to another. He idly wondered about their relationship, the blonde one seemed OK, but under the thrall of the raven-haired bitch. 

But the feeding was the other way round, the pale Irish looking girl fed the berries to the slim blond one, odd – but who was he to judge? Finally bored of their antics his eyes drifted to the big screen on the concourse, shit even that was boring – some sort of news conference. As Dave watched the display momentarily blanked and was filled by a mass of swirling colours. 

His eyes locked onto the screen, until a flitting distraction entered his peripheral vision. His hand flashed out with practiced ease and captured the unwary fly. ‘Nice try fly, but you got to be better than that to beat Dave Green’ he smiled grimly at his thought. He crushed the squirming life in his hand with some satisfaction. Then, Dave glanced back up at the girls on the bench opposite, and his mouth fell open, wide open - the casual observer would have thought he was trying to catch flies.

The image burning into his irises was lurid; the dark-haired girl was crushing the remaining strawberries onto the blonde’s small chest. Already the juices had soaked through the thin cotton, and defined the outline of the underlying nipples in a rich, red contrast. As he stared the diligent pale girl slipped a hand under the hem of the tee shirt to access her partner more intimately. Dave’s erection stirred in his boxer shorts, pressing the circumcised tip against his zip.

The show went on uninterrupted by Dave’s burgeoning interest, the raven-haired girl started to lick the sticky juice from her friend’s pert breasts. She took care to savour the tips, encouraging them to full ripeness. Dave decided the he could risk moving closer; they seemed oblivious of his voyeurism, so consumed were they by their intense Sapphic lust.

Dave walked forward; as he did his pronounced limp betrayed his condition. His eyes were fixed on the girls, a pale hand slipped from the blonde’s tee shirt and nestled securely down the front of her tight denim jeans – she bucked against the invisible squirming fingers. His mouth went dry, Dave shut it and swallowed, but no spit came.

He finally stopped walking just inches away from the teenage lovers.  A pale hand extended, and slapped his face, momentarily turning it back to the big screen. His eyes drank in the flowing colours, his mind faded – only sensation remained.

Blank eyes continued to stare at the screen, long after the swirling mass had disappeared, and the normal coverage resumed. No one listened to the broadcast; all were too involved in their private sexual worlds. Dave swung his head back to gaze blindly into the pale blue eyes of the blonde girl; they had lost their sparkle since he last looked in them. It mattered not.

His mind was only locked onto the sensations her tongue gave him, as it travelled the considerable length of his bursting erection. Dave Green was beaten.

It was a shame that no one in the shopping centre listened to this broadcast, it would have explained a lot.

“One more question for the Minister” the aide asked.

“Nigel Titfer, The Times, so Minister these reports we have of random outbreaks of wanton behaviour are exaggerated in your opinion” the journalist asked.

“Absolutely, sensationalism of the worst kind. We are talking about a few occurrences of sexual hysteria. Clearly of concern, but hardly earth shattering” the Minister answered, curtly. 

“So the rumours of crazed people is so much baloney, right! And what about the queues of people heading for Porton Down, Minister – What’s all that about? Eh, Eh!” an unidentified voice shouted.

“Merely a few affected souls heading for the treatment centre as they have been advised. Really please curb your imaginations!” the minister paused “In fact Mr Jonas will brief you about that situation – Mr Jonas…”

An anonymous official stood and walked to the microphone.

“As of 10:00 hours we have implemented martial law, purely as a precaution to control any panic caused by excessive media speculation…” Mr Jonas’s voice was drowned by the general hubbub.

One voice rose in protest.

“Nigel Titfer, Martial law! What are you holding back? This is unacceptable, in all my years…”

Mr Jonas’s voice barked out, cutting off all dissent in an instant.

“The video you are about to watch will explain the restrictions to be placed on the media.”

“It’s got to be pretty persuasive to stop me reporting what I want to on this,” shouted an anonymous voice.

The Minister stood, the grey irises of his eyes narrowed into slits, his smile was positively reptilian.

“Oh it is persuasive, I assure you it issss!”

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Chapter 2: A perfect setting

Sister Rosemary looked over the rims of her half-moon spectacles; her smiling eyes took in the early morning vista. The neat lawn rolled away from her lace trimmed French windows, perfectly framed by the luxurious growth of the early summer flowers. Unhurriedly she sipped her tea, and glanced at the ancient Grandmother clock 6:23. Rosemary sighed in satisfaction; soon it would be her favourite prayer of the day – a full hour of private time with the lord.

An impolite rap disturbed her reverie.

“Enter” she called.

A diminutive form struggled into the room, swinging back the solid oaken door.

“Guest Mistress I must protest! Yet again the visitors have not risen, and they were absent from lauds. They must abide by our practices surely?”

“Good morning, Sister Pamela” Rosemary replied.

“Oh yes, good morning Sister Rosemary, I forgot my manners – but those people…” Pamela was interrupted in full flow.

“Are my guests, they are in need and I have offered them sanctuary – It is the Carmelite tradition. Pamela, would you have me turn them away? Am I to cast the ladies out and let them face the terror they described, alone?”

“No but, we have rules, and responsibilities! They must be enforced!” Pamela retorted.

“Indeed, and if you do not return to your cell, you will be late for private prayer” Sister Rosemary flicked her head towards the ticking clock.

The minute hand trembled and then flicked once more.

“I take my leave, but this subject is not closed mistress!”

Sister Rosemary stood as the door closed with a comforting click; she walked over to her prayer cushion and knelt. Behind her the Grandmother clock chimed the half hour. Rosemary’s eyes closed and the silent communication began. Her thoughts concentrated on her recent visitor ‘Dear Lord, please grant the holy peace of mind and the grace to understand others within Sister Pamela’s heart…’

A few doors away Sister Pamela knelt, her head bowed, her lips mouthing an almost silent prayer.

“…and to Sister Rosemary grant the wisdom of the Lord, let her see the devil and all his works; for truly they are amongst us now.”

Quidenham monastery fell back into its old routine, silence descended upon the age-old hall as the dutiful offered their prayers. But none, other than Rosemary, prayed for the visitors ensconced in Peace Cottage, which was a pity; it may even have helped.

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Alice was the first to stir, disturbed by something - she sat bolt upright, spilling the feminine hand that had snuggled between her breasts.

“Damon, Damon what was that!” she asked urgently.

A lithe body rolled over, throwing back the covers and displaying her womanly figure.

“Will you stop calling me that? If the Sisters hear they will definitely get spooked! Its Mona now, can you remember? Mona!”  Mona’s voice was terse.

“Mona, I sorry, I’m still getting used to the shape-shifting. Anyway I heard something – outside” Alice apologised.

Mona looked at her outsized wristwatch 6:41 ‘The nuns will be a – praying’. Without stopping to dress Mona skipped to the door, unlocked it and slid out into the misty garden. In seconds she was back, her frame heaving with barely suppressed giggles.

“A hedgehog Alice, we were almost compromised by a Gul’nathan hedgehog. Unless they can shape shift better than us – we have little to fear!” Mona gave in to guffaws of laughter.

The sight of Mona’s tight nipples bouncing seductively before her tempered Alice’s annoyance, her passion soared. Alice’s eyes widened to drink in Mona’s succulent body.

“I do believe you prefer me as a girl?” Mona asked provocatively, pouting her lips slightly.

“I prefer you as a shape-shifter, that’s for sure!” Alice giggled.

Mona launched herself onto Alice’s half reclined form.

“Why you cheeky madam, I’ll show you…” Mona sniggered as she tickle-teased Alice’s soft stomach.

“Can’t you two keep it down? You have woken Sali and me now! God damn this place, early morning freaks!” Gerry shouted in her usual dawn grump.

“Stop complaining and come here Gerry, I want you!” Sali muttered urgently.

Gerry grinned and snuggled up to Sali; she paused and then whispered into the close shell-like ear that peaked out of the smooth white hair.

“Transform to Silas, I want something to fill me this morning – under the covers no one will know”  

“Oh sure, no flash to give us away, pull the covers down tight…” Sali whispered back

Gerry pressed her wet lips down onto the soft mound beneath her splayed thighs. From nowhere the organ rose, skewering Gerry, expanding to stretch her to her full capacity. She ground her clitoris against the base of Silas’s shaft, and marvelled at how quickly she could be awake - if she really needed to. Seconds later Gerry peaked for the first time, filling the room with her soft cries and waking all her slumbering sisters.

Peace cottage resounded with the hallowed worship of sexuality. The emotions of the C’phu joined and sent their prayer for salvation out - to an unlistening universe.

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Georgie whistled as she strode down the deserted road, her body swayed as she walked; the bundle of papers under her arm an encumbrance to a normal gait. Georgie felt at one with the world, and at last at one with herself.  She had found sex, and it had liberated her from being an ungainly teenager; Georgie was now a woman. Silently she watched the cotton wool clouds skate across the mid-morning sky. The wind was getting up, ‘may be a storm is brewing’ she mused. Georgie hastened her pace, and lost her grip on the topmost paper, it fluttered from her grip and spread its sheets across the road.

“Oh shit!”

Georgie raced after the windswept newsprint, picking up the errant sheets as quickly as she could. Finally she stooped to pick up the last page.

“Parp! Parp!” a loud car horn blared at Georgie’s stooped form.

Georgie jumped, her hair a tousled mass of dark curls, her eyes wide with fright.

The blond youngster driving the car grinned from ear-to-ear, before raising his hand in the customary two-fingered salute.

Georgie responded in kind, her fright turning first to mirth, and then to muted interest ‘He’s quite a hunk’ she thought. She felt the urge to control him, the hunger rose from her loins, but too late. Georgie swung her head; her glowing eyes followed the speeding Land Rover. If only he had looked back. Georgie sighed and shrugged, she folded the disorganised paper and was just about to shove it with the rest when a headline caught her eye. 

Georgie’s blood ran cold, it had started, Silas had to see this! Georgie ran past the Vikings mound and turned right into the road sign posted ‘Quidenham Hall’. On she ran towards the fens, her speeding legs gobbling up the yards to the Monastery. She raced across the road and dived to the right, into the ordered grounds of the ancient hall. 

“Stop that at once, this is a place of worship, not a race track!” Sister Pamela barked.

“Sorry Sister but I must get these papers to…” Georgie started.

“Papers, trash more like, how dare you bring this into our Lady’s house” Sister Pamela jabbed an outstretched finger towards the amply endowed page three girl.

Georgie froze, her bundle of papers fell, and the already tattered newspaper billowed into the grounds. As Georgie stared in horror at her crime, a young nun raced around the courtyard retrieving the scattered sheets.

Sister Pamela lowered her face to Georgie’s - the threat hung for a second and then burst into a diatribe.

“Now I have grounds for getting you ejected, you and your friends. All you have said is bunkum! Irreligious cults, brain-washing people into sin; I’ve never heard such nonsense, this is an impure country, but we the catholic sisters pray for the sinners – they need no more. They certainly don’t need your sort or your smutty stories!”

The young nun raced up to Sister Pamela, red faced and puffing.

“Sister, phew, Sister read this!”

Pamela extended a hand and plucked the article from the nun’s hands, she handled it as if it were diseased. Her scowl fell, then her eyebrows raised, finally she thrust the paper into Georgie’s hands.

“You had better take this to your ‘colleagues’, I need to talk to the Mother Superior” Sister Pamela announced, before turning and sweeping back towards the main hall.

Georgie stammered her thanks to the unknown nun.

“I only did as I saw was right, nothing more” the shame faced nun replied.

“What’s your name?” Georgie asked.

“I am Jennifer, Novice Jennifer – Now excuse me I must attend sext, um, our midday prayers, goodbye” Jennifer’s voice faded as she scurried away.

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Sali sat in the library with the rest of the group waiting for the Mother Superior. The room was hushed; all awaited the news they feared most, the news of their ejection from the Monastery. Finally lunch ended and the Mother Superior entered the room, her face was grave. Silently the nun moved to a spare chair and sat.

“I have been in lengthy discussion over lunch with the Sisters, they have now retired for their siesta, as I should have done. However the situation is serious, my period of rest can wait!”

“I meant, no offence – I’m so sorry,” Georgie blurted out.

“And child you have caused none, no - you have done the right thing. We live sheltered from the world, but we cannot be sheltered from this evil. Our devotion to Carmel leads us into a life of prayer and contemplation, we believe in the transforming power of prayer. But this is an abomination; Satan is at work in our chosen country. I can not ignore this, how may we the Carmelite Nuns be of assistance?”

“You can provide us shelter, that will be help enough while we gather our resources. To become any more involved would be too dangerous. Think of our quest in your prayers” Replied Sali, her face relaxing.

“But people are being perverted by these misguided fools, these devil worshippers. It is my holy duty to defend the weak against Satan” 

“And so you will, using your beliefs, not ours. Pray for us, transform us – give us the strength to win!” Alice responded.

“Then it is agreed, as you are doing gods work you may stay amongst us as long as necessary. We shall give you succour in your hour of need” the Mother Superior smiled warmly at the assembled women.

The library door burst open and an enraged Sister Pamela entered, waving an afternoon edition.

“It’s all lies! The papers have retracted it all. There never was any orgy in a shopping centre. There are no queues of perverts going for treatment. It is lies! Throw them out!”

The Mother Superior studied the paper that Sister Pamela delivered her with a great flourish.

“It is as you said it would be” the Mother Superior muttered.

“See, now throw them out!” barked Sister Pamela.

“No Sister, I cannot! When I first talked with Sali she warned me of this – the cultists have infiltrated our establishment at the highest level. Here is the proof! The whole-hearted suppression of press freedom, you and the other Sisters will do all you can to support and help our honoured guests. We will pray for them at vespers, matins and compline, do you understand?”

“Yes Mother, I will tell the Sisters, excuse me” 

Sister Pamela cast an ill-tempered glance at Sali and Alice, before stalking away from the gathering.

“It is almost time for afternoon prayer, my children - you will be in mine, my blessings on your endeavour” 

Once the Mother Superior left the planning began, desperate planning – there was little time.

---------------------

Georgie couldn’t settle, partly it was the events of the day mixed with the fear that welled up inside her. This was not the whole of it though, the boredom of being here butted uncomfortably to the adrenalin. The Sisters were now at compline, the last prayers of the day and then – lights out! Bedtime at 9:30, she hadn’t gone to bed that early since her childhood – this place was such a bore! Georgie slipped out of Peace Cottage unseen, she would just wander around – and see if there was a way out to the village without being observed.

Slowly she made her way along the cloisters, keeping to the shadows. Then it started, the one thing she hadn’t thought of – Alice was having sex. Alice was having sex and Georgie was feeling every touch, every caress – her legs turned to jelly under her. The desire was so strong; it bent her over, her hands clutching her fluttering stomach. 

Georgie tried to straighten up and let out a low moan, her eyes struggled to focus, and god, it had never been this strong before. Images of the guy from the car floated into her mind, he stood naked before her, his bloated penis jutting proudly before him. She slid a hand down the front of her jeans to stifle the rampant pulsing. She was aware of someone’s concern.

“Are you alright, what’s wrong? You look awful – look come in here, I’ll help you”

Georgie allowed herself to be dragged through a narrow doorway, and there she flopped onto a low hard bed. Through her mist of desire she could hear the sound of water, a cloth being wrung out. The shock of the cold flannel on her forehead snapped her eyes open, at close quarters she gazed up into the face above her. It was Sister Jennifer, but she was odd, her face shone with an odd cast, a distinctive glow.

The reason for the glow dawned on Georgie just too late, it was her, her eyes – she mustn’t seduce a nun! Her good intentions faded to nothing - as soon as Jennifer’s lips touched hers – Georgie melted. Her hands grasped the black material covering Jennifer’s breasts and caressed feeling the virginal nipples burst into ripe buds. The cell door swung open, and framed in the opening was a scowling Sister Pamela.

“I’ll have you both thrown out of here for this heresy,” she snarled.

Sister Pamela walked up behind Sister Jennifer’s bent body.

“Rome and the bible specifically deem such behaviour as one of the ultimate sins. Your souls will burn in hell!”

Sister Jennifer jumped when she felt the older nun’s hands on the flesh of her calves, slowly; purposefully the hands crept upwards – separating Jennifer’s shaking legs.

“I will watch the demons turn the spit while you scream. Your torment will be endless!”

The confident hands swiftly pulled aside the damp gusset of Sister Jennifer’s rough bloomers. Two resolute fingers slid stiffly into the girl’s deep wetness. Jennifer gasped, and her urgent tongue re-sought Georgie’s.

“You will be punished, I will flay you with my bare hands – Oh… yes!” 

Sister Pamela rubbed the front of her gown against Sister Jennifer’s upturned behind. She could feel its stiff coarseness against her burning mound.

“What are you doing to me… I have never… Ohhh!” groaned Sister Jennifer.

Sister Pamela’s thumb pushed against the resistant ring of Jennifer’s sphincter, the muscle opened and welcomed the invader into its pungent depths. Jennifer wiggled brushing her bursting clitoris on the older nun’s knuckles – she felt her first orgasm building, and then overwhelming her.

“That’s it, love my hand, love my hand like I do!” Sister Pamela grunted.

Georgie opened her eyes and stared at the two orgiastic nuns’ - her eyes widened in disbelief. Sister Pamela had both her hands fully inserted into quivering, gasping vagina’s – both Jennifer’s, and her own. Georgie’s thoughts tumbled ‘Now she’s done that before!’

So began the transformation of the Sisters of Quidenham, from the Carmelite community - to the holy army of C’phu.

Story so far…

Book Three of the WWW Trilogy

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Foot Notes ©Yotna El'toub 2004
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I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my only payment for my work. Please address comments to Yotna.eltoub@hushmail.com
 
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