The torment of sister Mary

CHAPTER TWO

"Sister, we need more stamps for the campaign mail."

Sister Mary Theresa looked up from a stack of papers lying neatly in front of her. It had been a long day. Mother Superior was somewhat upset because of the long hours the four nuns had been putting in at this campaign office. But Church policy hadn't expressly forbidden political activity as long as it wasn't disruptive to either the community or the faith. This office was perfect, Sister Mary Theresa had thought. Although sponsored by a senator running for re-election shortly, the drive here was for a cleaning up of air pollution there in Los Angeles.

"I don't know if we have enough in the budget," she said, looking sadly at a slightly young nun sitting behind a typewriter. They had done so well up to this point, running a successful campaign with the minimum of staff and equipment. But Sister Mary Theresa knew they couldn't keep on this way without more money. And support didn't come often enough in the form of money.

"What a shame, Sister Mary Theresa!" the younger nun said, pushing away from the typewriter and sighing. "We've come such a long way, and to think we're being stopped by lack of stamps."

"Sister Georgiana and Sister Clarissa are out now trying to raise funds at UCLA. Sister Georgiana goes there for class, and she thought… well, maybe she was too hopeful," Sister Mary Theresa said, correcting herself, feeling depression weigh her down. The campaign had been going so well, well enough to take her mind off that terrible evening when she'd done that awful thing to her body. Still she hadn't been able to bring herself to confess her guilt. She was living in sin, multiplying her sin by taking communion with the other sisters while she had this blot on her soul.

"I hope something comes in. We have to get the public more interested in this. It's becoming hard to breathe here."

Sister Mary Dominic was right. Their convent was just off Adams Boulevard, near the center of downtown Los Angeles. Too often the young nuns peered from their windows and saw the sky gradually turn a brownish yellow as the morning slipped by. A sagging economy and demand for cheaper fuel had turned the government's head away from supervising pollutant offenders.

"We can pray, Sister," she said, going back to addressing the envelopes. The two women busied themselves for the next hour, not hearing the door to the office open slowly.

Sitting behind her desk, Sister Mary Theresa had been thinking once again about that night when she stuck her fingers into her swampy pussy and toyed with herself. Oh, how could she be thinking of something that foul, that filthy right here in the campaign office? Guilty inhibition should be guiding her now. But once again her sexuality was getting the better of her.

The woman's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the slamming of the front door. Sister Mary Theresa jerked her head up. Men, four of them, wearing green military style clothing, strode into the office. Two stood by the door holding something. Only after several seconds ticked by did the young nun realize those objects were semiautomatic rifles!

"Oh, God, Sister Mary Theresa!" the young nun screamed, holding her fingers to her mouth as two of the men strode across the tiny office toward her.

"Fuckin' nuns. Told you," the tall dark-haired commando muttered, sweeping the top of her desk clean with his free hand. A service revolver was gripped tightly in the other hand.

"What are you doing here?" Sister Mary Theresa finally managed to get out. She felt terror shoot through her veins as the ruggedly handsome ringleader moved around her desk.

"Tell your friend not to open her mouth and she ain't gonna get hurt," the first man said.

Sister Mary Theresa motioned to the terrified nun to keep quiet while she tried to collect her thoughts. They looked like marines standing there. Two remained at the door, holding their rifles tightly to their bodies after locking the door and puffing the blinds shut both over the windows and front door. Were they thieves, radicals? If she hadn't known better, the nun would have thought they'd come straight from a war movie.

"I think we're okay for now. Told you it'd be a cinch," the first commando said, relaxing a little. He shovcd his revolver in his field trousers and smiled down at Sister Mary Theresa. The frightened nun felt a strange flash of something other than fear take hold of her body. His black eyes flickered with excitement and fury. The man's animalistic power both terrified and attracted the confused woman. No, no, I must remain in control, she told herself, holding onto the front edge of the desk for support. She had to have something tangible pressing against her. This situation was dreamlike in its ferocious intensity. The woman needed to take hold of something to remind herself of reality.

"Who are you?" she stammered out.

"My name's Tolbo… Jack Tolbo. But name's ain't important now," he said, sneering at her.

"We gonna wait 'til it gets dark?" one of the men at the door said.

Dark? Sister Mary Theresa thought of the two other nuns. Soon they'd be coming through that door, victims of these men. She started to explain about the other two when Jack slapped her across the face.

The suddenness of the blow paralyzed the young nun. She fell to one side, her hands grappling desperately for support. Sister Mary Dominic screamed, then pressed her fingers tightly to her mouth as the other nun slipped to the floor.

"I ain't no Catholic, honey, so don't think you're gonna hide behind some fancy hocus pocus. Rick, anybody doin' anything out there?"

One of the men at the window shook his head from side to side, his eyes still peering through the slats of the closed blinds.

"Who are you?" Sister Mary Theresa repeated, holding her head with one hand. It throbbed from the force of the blow. She could still feel his fingers against her check as she climbed back onto the chair and steadied herself.

"Told you, name's Jack. The group?" he continued, smiling cruelly down at the terrified nun. Jack's eyes narrowed as he inhaled sharply, his chest puffing out. "The Democratic Liberation Front."

Sister Mary Theresa racked her mind, trying to think where she'd heard that name before. Of all the off-beat terrorist groups crawling over this planet that one didn't strike a familiar note.

Her thoughts were interrupted by sharp laughter. It was the second gunman at the window, his face temporarily wrinkled up in laughter.

"Okay," Jack said, jerking his head toward the window. The gunman stopped laughing and went back to surveillance.

"Hey, two more of 'em coming down the street," Rick said.

"Christ, like roaches," Jack muttered. "Unlock the door."

"There's just four of us here, I swear," Sister Mary Theresa said in a quavering voice.

"Okay, back against the door," Jack whispered.

The men moved out of sight while the two nuns sat paralyzed with fear. In a moment it was all over. The door opened, two nuns stepped inside, stopping as they saw Sister Mary Theresa raise her hand in warning. A brief scuffle followed, marked by screams and slaps. Soon the two entering nuns were helpless. Jack told the terrified holy women to move out the rear entrance.

"We're goin' to your place. We been scoutin' it out all week. It's gonna be one hell of a hideout," Jack said as Rick moved cautiously into the alley and checked for police. He unlocked the rear door of the blue Chevy van when he felt it was safe.

"Inside!"

Sister Mary Theresa was first to climb in, screaming when she saw a large black and white German shepherd standing by the driver's seat.

"He ain't gonna hurtcha… if you don't yell," Rick said with a grin.

On the way to the convent, the nuns learned these men tried to assassinate a Spanish official in downtown Los Angeles. They had failed, but were planning to try again in a few days. For the moment they had to find a safe place near the Spanish consulate. The nuns' convent presented an ideal place of refuge from the police. The political office had been on the escape route from the hit spot.

"How many inside?" Jack asked as the van rolled up behind the massive three-story Gothic building. The church was just across the street. How good and comforting it looked now!

"Eight. It's a small order," Sister Mary Theresa confessed.

"Okay," he said tensely, glancing at his watch. Rick moved the van cautiously along the alleyway, stopping at the rear door of the convent.

"You stash the van where we agreed. Me, Rico and Joe'll take the place. Don't think we'll have any problems. And when we get inside, you can tell your fuckin' Mother Superior, or whatever the hell she is, I don't give a fuck about shootin' nuns, understand?"

Sister Mary Theresa nodded her head up and down rapidly. The operation was fast. The four nuns were shoved roughly from the van and nearly thrown into the back of the convent. Three nuns were in the kitchen cooking when the assault began. There were screams that ended quickly when Jack and Rico painted the automatic rifles at their heads. In minutes the men, had subdued the women, breaking them up into groups of three and herding them into separate rooms.

"I want this one for a while," Jack said, wiping his thick sensuous lips with the back of his right hand.

Sister Mary Theresa leaned against Mother Superior, holding the older woman's trembling hand with hers.

"Give me strength, Mother. Pray for me," the young nun whispered. She was shivering as Jack stared hotly at her. The other men were grinning from ear to car, their rifles dangling from their armpits. Jack smirked at the young nun, touching one leg with the tip of his weapon and laughing as she jumped and shuddered. The cold metal made the woman's flesh crawl.

"Take solace in our Lord, Sister," Mother Superior whispered back, kissing the woman gently on the forehead.

"Upstairs," Rico growled, shoving the older woman roughly between the shoulders.

She stumbled, nearly falling to the floor. Sister Mary Dominic screamed with the other nuns as they watched this unspeakable act of disrespect.

"No, don't, don't do this to me," Sister Mary Theresa begged as Jack took her by one arm and led her down the long corridor.

"Any of these yours?" he asked as they marched swiftly past several opened doors.

"No, upstairs. Please, don't," she repeated confusedly.

"Ain't never fucked a nun before," Jack said, stopping in front of one door, peering in, then shoving the young woman inside. "There's a first time for everything," he said, kicking the door shut.

Sister Mary Theresa stood in the middle of the bare room. It was furnished as simply as hers. An iron post single bed was pushed against one whitewashed wall. A dresser stood opposite it. A small throw rug lay in the middle of the tiny cubicle while a crucifix hung just above the dresser.

Jack slipped the rifle's shoulder strap off his arm and lay the weapon down against the dresser. Pulling his green shirt out from his trousers, he unbuttoned the sleeves, staring strangely at the trembling young nun.

"What… oh, God, don't, I'm a nun! You can't do this to me," she said, shaking her head back and forth. He was going to… to have… relations with her. What did the boys call it? Fucking! Yes, he was going to fuck her!

The young nun backed away from Jack until she felt the edge of the bed pressing against the backs of her legs. Oh, if only there was school today! But it was a spring holiday. No one would be coming into the convent for another four days!

"You a virgin?" he asked, laughing derisively before Sister Mary Theresa could register her indignation at that kind of question.

He unbuckled the long black leather belt, then unfastened the top button of his trousers. Sister Mary Theresa's eyes raced down between his legs and saw the bulge in his crotch. It was just as in her dreams. The young terrified nun was feeling excitement, curiosity, all the things that would send her straight to hell if she gave into them. She had to resist for her soul and her body.

"No, I won't," she whispered, clenching her teeth, and turning away from the young man.

"You're hot, baby. I can tell. You ain't got no business being a nun. Not like them other women of ice out there," Jack whispered.

His words were like fire to her brain. She felt dizzy, confused. Before she had a chance to respond, Jack was all over her, his body pressing hard against hers. Sister Mary Theresa cried out, twisting as best she could in his grip. At times she managed to free one arm and tried to scratch her nails against his face. Jack only laughed, knocking her hand roughly away and slap ping her.

"I like a cunt who fights," he commented crudely.

"No, stop, stop!"

There were tearing sounds. The nuns of Sister Mary Theresa's order no longer wore the full-dress wimple and habit of medieval time. But still the garments were in full keeping with conservative modesty. Now the woman felt her clothes being torn from her body. First the small veil fell from her hair, followed by the long black dress. Jack was breathing hard, rubbing his groin against her crotch while stripping the screaming nun of her clothes.

"Always wondered if nuns wore black panties," he said, finally tearing the last of her garment from her hips.

Sister Mary Theresa shoved herself back, temporarily breaking away from the commando mercenary. His shirt was completely opened now, revealing a hairy, broad chest banded with well-developed muscles. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her tits and pussy. She felt so naked even though her bra and panties were stills intact.

"You're gonna be one hell of a tight fuck, baby," he said, his voice quavering with excitement.

The woman's eyes widened as she watched him take one end of his belt and pull it from the trouser loops. Jack held the buckled end like a whip, doubling the belt and tapping the looped end rhythmically against one thigh.

"Please, oh, no, please," she said in a tight little whisper.

But Jack only smiled, his eyes wide with excitement. The veins leading to his knuckles stood out while his chest glistened with sweat.

"I got an idea you like a little rough stuff. All you fuckin' Catholics got somethin' about penance and all that shit. Some buddies of mine told me all about it. Even caught a couple of nuns actin' freaky with whips."

With that he shoved her back, sending the young nun toppling backward onto the small bed. Sister Mary Theresa let out a pant, catching herself with both arms pulled back. She tried to scramble back up. But Jack moved to the edge of the bed and held the belt up menacingly. With a whimper the young woman scooted back, covering her face protectively with one hand while clutching the wrinkled top sheet with the other.

"Little whore, little hypocrite," be muttered.

"No, no, no!" she whimpered. Tears oozed from her eyes. "Don't do this!"

Jack hesitated with the belt, his eyes moving slowly over the woman's body. He stared at her tits pressing hard against the black bra, at the few dark curls peeping around the elastic leg bands of her modest black panties. He was enjoying watching this woman tremble under him.

Sister Mary Theresa cried out one more time. Then Jack swung the belt, the thick leather sizzling through the air. It seemed to hiss as it slashed across one thigh with a loud crash.

The young nun screamed, her body jerking to one side while the injured leg kicked out at the commando. It hurt so badly! It was as if someone had touched her thigh with dry ice, then followed up with a red-hot poker! She rubbed the sore spot with one hand, looking up pleadingly at the young man.

"Over on your ass," he said with a growl.

Sister Mary Theresa had no choice. At least she'd be able to protect her tits and pussy from the belt.

Jack studied her firm, well-rounded ass, then reached down, curling his fingers around the elastic waistband of her panties. Sister Mary Theresa groaned into the pillow, pressing her fingers into the soft down as she felt him pulling down her panties. Her face reddened with shame. He was stripping her, tearing the last remnant of modesty and pride from her body, and all under the calm gaze of Christ on the cross!

"Oh, God, please help your handmaiden," Sister Mary Theresa prayed with a whisper.

With a tearing sound the panties came free. No God, the sobbing nun realized, would come to her aid now.