The Convent of Sanctified Souls [ss]

The Convent of Sanctified Souls




	“Boy, get in here!” bellowed the plump friar.  He stood at the altar of a small, dim chapel, carefully pouring a measure of sacred herbs into a silver burner.  The friar wiped his fingers off on the sides of his vestments.  It was late, and a long day’s work kept his thin beard slick with sweat.

	“Where are you?” he called again.  The friar turned as the door opened and a young boy in too-large robes scampered in.  Tomas was new to the clergy, only a few years into his training, and was still struggling to keep up with the rigorous standards of the God Emperor’s Most Holy Ecclesiarchy.  The old man of the cloth shook his head and sighed.  “Tomas,” he said, “you were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

	“I’m sorry, Friar Horst,” said the boy, breathless.  “Sister Agonia was having me scrub down the main hall.”

	Horst frowned.  “What did you do this time?”

	“I, uh, dropped the oil can while refilling the lamps in the cloister.”  Tomas was staring at his toes and had his hands behind his back.  There were dark splotches at his knees.

	Friar Horst sighed again.  Sister Agonia, that is, Sister Superior Agonia, was the commanding officer of the Sororitas detachment stationed at the Convent of Sanctified Souls, a small outpost home to a few members of the church and a squad of battle sisters.  Since her arrival six months earlier, she had made a reputation as a real hard ass.  Rumors circulated that she once served as a Mistress of Redemption for her order before being promoted to her current position.  After dealing with a pile of infraction reports she had submitted that was taller than he was, he could certainly believe it.

	“Well, you’ll have to be more carefully from now on, won’t you?”  Tomas nodded vigorously and Friar Horst smiled.  The boy may be clumsy, but he had a good heart.  “But late is late,” he said, nodding sagely.  “You know how the Sisters get when the nightly weapons consecrations are late.”

	Tomas’s eyes grew wide and Horst could see fear ghost across them.

	“I’ve already consecrated the incense,” he said, “so all you need to do is walk the brazier around the armory and anoint each piece with a drop of this.”  He held up a bottle of holy water.

	Tomas took the sacred tools with reverence, gently as he could.  Horst frowned, if he held them too delicately he’d probably drop them.

	“Wait,” said the boy.  “I’m going alone?”  His eyes were bright with apprehension and surprise.

	“I’ve held you by the hand long enough, I think,” said the old friar.  "Just take your time and do your best.”  He patted the boy on the shoulder.  “When you’re done, return those to the altar and head to bed.”

	“Yes, Friar.”  Tomas was glowing with pride.  “I won’t let you down!”  He spun around and promptly lost his grip on the incense burner, fumbling to keep it from hitting the ground.  Friar Horst winced as the boy looked up at him with a sheepish grin.

	“I know you won’t,” he said.  “Just be careful and take your time.”

	Tomas bobbed his head yes and hurried out of the chapel.  Friar Horst watched him leave with a sad little smile.

	“The Emperor protects.”



	Tomas’s first obstacle was the armory door.  With the brazier in one hand and the holy water in the other, he had no way of opening it.  Glancing from side to side to make sure no one was watching, he wrapped the chain of the burner around his neck.  He placed his hand on the actuator icon, allowing it to scan his palm.  After chanting the correct litany of activation, the door hissed open on pneumatic hinges.  The boy quickly returned the burner to its proper position and, glancing around to look for witnesses, hurried inside.

	A little strangely, the luminators had been left on.  One of the techpriests must have known he was running late and kept them activated.  He moved over to an arming bench and placed his tools on the surface.  Tomas was just starting to search his pockets for his lighting stick when he froze, hearing movement deeper down the hall.

	The whirring of machine parts and the stomping of heavy feet told him the servitors were active, but the deep breathing and strained grunts were entirely a different matter.  Nervously, he crouched low and eased his way towards the noise, careful not to make any noise.  He found a rack of power armor and ducked behind it.  Slowly, he raised his eye above the lip.

	Two servitors were struggling to force a black bodyglove to fasten behind the back of a tall woman sitting on another bench, facing the other direction.  She was grasping on servitor by the shoulder and was pressing her arm into a sleeve with the other.

	“Push, Emperor damn you!” she grunted.

	Tomas started, recognizing the voice.  It was Sister Superior Agonia.  He let out a gasp as he bumped the rack, knocking a gauntlet to the floor.

	Sister Agonia shot to her feet, a bolt pistol suddenly in her hand.  She swept it across the room, searching for a target while the servitors stood idle, confused by her non-standard movements and waiting for orders.  The battle sister caught sight of Tomas fumbling to grab up the armored glove and snapped the weapon in his direction.

	“Stand and indentify!” she commanded.

	Tomas hopped to his feet, flinching as the pistol tracked his movements.  “It’s only me,” he said, raising his hands high in surrender.  He gulped.  The battle sister’s aim was steady as he saw her squint, trying to place him.  He gulped again.  In her haste, part of the bodysuit had been pulled down, revealing a heavy breast.  There were several lines and dashed crisscrossing her skin, the telltale signs of old battle scars.  To his sight, it seemed like she was still wobbling a little…

	“Novice Tomas,” she said after a few moments.  “Explain yourself.”  She made no move to cover herself, but neither did she lower her weapon.

	“I-I’m here to anoint the weapons…” His voice caught in his throat and the words barely came out.

	“Without the friar?”  Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

	“He, he said I was ready to try it myself, Sister Superior.”

	Her foot slid forward and she realigned her aim, pointing directly between his eyes.  “Without incense?  Without holy water?”

	Tomoas opened his mouth.

	“I can see through your lies, boy,” she said, cutting him off.  “You’re nothing more than a filthy sneak-peek!”  Her thick lips curled into a contemptuous sneer.  “A little pervert like you, why, I should put one through your face right now!”

	He saw her finger tensing on the trigger and started to hyperventilate.  Seeing the way his eyes grew wide with terror, she dropped the pistol to her side and just shook her head.

	“Pathetic,” she said.  “Absolutely pathetic.”  She fixed him with a hard stare.  “Scrawny little rodent like isn’t worth a bolt round.”  Disgust.  That was the only way to describe her face.  Complete and utter disgust.

	His eyes fell to the bolt pistol, then slowly raised back up to her face.  Tomas’s eyes lingered on her ample breast.  He couldn’t help notice the large nipple, a delicate golden brown, or the way her skin bulged a little where the bodysuit still clung to it.  The boy gulped again.


	Following his gaze, she spread her arms wide.

	“Like what you see, pervert?” she asked sarcastically.  “Get enough of a view back there?”  She started to walk towards him, slowly.  “Like a better look, pervert?”

	Tomas was frozen to the floor.  He had never been so scared in his life.  His eyes darted back the way he came, only for the sister to dart forwards and clamp her hand around his throat.  She lifted him onto his toes and started to squeeze.

	Chocking and desperate, he flailed an arm back towards the blast door.  The warrior woman’s eyes quickly flashed in that direction.  They went back to him.  After a second, her head turned that way as well.

	Her grip loosened and he fell to the floor.

	Sitting there on the bench were the unlit brazier and the silver bottle of consecrated water.  Sister Superior Agonia frowned, then looked down at Tomas.  He was massaging his throat, chocking and gasping for air.  Tears were welling in his eyes.

	“Oh,” she said.  He looked up at her, eyes still overflowing with fear.

	“Oh,” she repeated.  The battle sister shifter her weight awkwardly.  She looked down at her body and pulled up her bodysuit to cover herself as best she could.

	If he wasn’t still in rather bad pain, Tomas might have found the image of the meanest woman in the Emperor’s good graces standing half naked and embarrassed to be hilarious.  Now, he was too started by the fact that she was leaning over and pulling him up by the arm to notice.

	She shifted him over the bench and let him catch his breath, gently patting his back every now and then.  After about five or six minutes his breathing went back to normal and his eyes stopped watering.

	“It seems,” she said, slowly.  “It seems I owe you and apology.”  She made the word sound like a slur.

	His head wiped around and he stared at her wide eyed, mouth falling open.  Never, not in a million, billion years, would he have ever imagined that Sister Superior Agonia would ever, EVER apologize about anything.  Least of all to him.

	She glared at him and he twisted his head, staring dead ahead and not daring to breathe.

	An awkward silence draped over them like a blanket.  The servitors stood idle behind them, pops and whirs cutting through the silence at irregular intervals.

	Sister Agonia looked back down the hall, glancing at the burner and holy water.

	“The nightly consecrations,” she said, “should have been completed some time ago.”

	Tomas flushed, gripping his robe with both hands and squeezing hard.

	“I, uh, I was-“

	“No excuses, novice.  You had a duty and you failed to accomplish it.”

	“But I was scrubbing-“

	“What did I just say about excuses?”  Her voice was firm, but still far softer than he was used too.  He closed his mouth with a little pop and kept staring forward.  They were close and the sister’s arm was brushing against his.  It was very distracting.

	“The way I see it…” her voice trailed off as though she was making up her mind about something.  “The way I see it, that makes us even.”

	Tomas tensed, unsure if he had heard correctly.

	“Sister?”

	“Listen, novice,” her voice was sharp again, “here’s the deal: help me get this damn armor on and we’ll never speak of this again.  Even given the circumstances,” she glanced at him, “you shouldn’t have been peeking.”

	Not trusting his own voice, Tomas simply bobbed his head up and down.

	“Good,” said Agonia, hopping to her feet.  “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

	Agonia moved back to her former seat and sat down in between the servitors, waving them away.  She wriggled a finger, calling Tomas closer.  He stepped forward slowly, trying hard not to stare at her bare back.  She was tall and well built, but had enough to her that she looked soft instead of bulky or hard.  Tomas was a little sad to see so many splotches of raised, white skin.  The battle sister must have seen many hardships during her life.

	“Um, what would you like me to do?”

	“It’s this damn bodyglove,” she said, sounding annoyed at having to explain.  “If I can just get into this tight piece of shit (Tomas gasped at the profanity) then the servitors can attach the fibre-bundles and armor plates.”  She looked over her shoulder.  “I just need you to help me get it on.”

	“Um… how do I do that?”  Tomas felt himself begin to sweat; the battle sister had slipped everything above her waist out of the bodysuit and was stretching her arms and back.  He could hear a few pops and snaps as her bones creaked.

	Agonia pointed lazily towards a brass can on a shelf.  “Use that oil,” she said.  “The servitor’s aren’t dexterous enough to apply it.  That, and the metal hands.”

	Tomas glanced at the cyborg’s claws and clamps and silently agreed.  He hurried over to the shelf and picked up the can, suddenly quite aware that the sister was now behind him.  And she was sitting topless.  He imagined two of those breasts just hanging there and-

	“I’m sorry for barging in on you,” he said, forcing his mind to think of something different.  He started to shuffle backwards.  “I, eh, I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”

	“I don’t have to explain myself to you, novice.”  That was the sharp voice he was used to.

	He turned, stuttering out an apology, then tripped over a cable.  Tomas slid and tripped, landing hard in her lap.  He lifted himself up and bumped his head against something soft and warm.  The novice’s face moved up and the sister’s breast slid across his face.  Startled, he tried to push himself off of her, only then realizing his hands were pressing against her thighs.

	Like a grox in the headlights, he looked up at her face.  Agonia’s eyes were huge and the expression on her face was simple shock, as if she couldn’t conceive of what had just happened.  Tomas dropped his head and looked right at the floor.

	Sister Agonia started to laugh; a deep, hearty chuckle that resonated across the armory.  She slapped her thigh and didn’t stop until she started to wheeze from lack of breath.

	“Y-you, ha, you r-really are, ha ha, a, ha, clumsy, heh, clumsy little guy, ha, aren’t you?” Her tears were all but watering as she patted him on the head.  She actually smiled, just a little.

	“I-I’m sorry Sister Superior…”  Tomas couldn’t bring himself to look at her face.

	“It’s fine, fine,” she told him, composing herself once more.  “Just get to work.”

	Tomas shuffled back behind her and unstoppered the brass can.  Then he held it up and made a realization.  “Um, Sister?”

	“Novice?”

	“What is it you want me to do, exactly?”

	“Hmm?  Simple, just oil me up a bit so I can slide in.”  Her tone was so matter-of-fact that Tomas took a second to realize what she said.

	“O-oil you up?” he asked, all but choking on the words.  “Why do I have to?”

	“We’ve already been over the servitors’ metal hands, haven’t we?”  she sounded annoyed.

	“No,” he began, “well, yes.  But shouldn’t, um, shouldn’t you do it?”

	“Novice…”

	“Yes, Sister Superior?”

	“I will tell you this one more time,” she said, pausing for a moment.  “Don’t. EVER. Question. Me.”

	Suddenly he realized that was effectively arguing with a Sister Superior of the Adepta Sororitas.  He quickly spilled some of the oil into his hand and then pressed them up against her bare back.  Though her skin was soft and warm to his touch, he could feel thick, taut muscles underneath.  As his hands rubbed across her they would cross over bumpy, raised scar tissue and he would hesitate slightly.  His breathing quickened at the closeness between them.

	“That’s good,” she told him.  “Keep going.”

	Encouraged, he poured a small measure of oil right about her neck and kneaded it down and outwards from her spine.  She flexed and twisted a little under his fingers, occasionally giving off a satisfied grunt or light moan.  Tomas’s hands were small against her wide shoulders, and it took him time lather it completely.
	When he was done, she held out her left arm, keeping it raised until he realized what she wanted and moved to take care of it as well.  He dripped a line from her shoulder to his wrist and took her in both hands, pinching her biceps between them and carefully stroking up and down to make sure he covered her all the way around.  Tomas kept his head bowed, trying not to glance at her front in case she thought he was peeking again.  His heart was beating faster than it had when she was pointing a gun at him.

	“You’re pretty good at this,” she said.  Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be relaxing.

	“Thank you, Sister Superior.”  His head went back to staring at the ground and he focused his attention on finishing her arm.  “I think it’s because of all the scrubbing I do.”

	“You do tend to get a lot of practice,” she admitted, chuckling quietly to herself.  Agonia wriggled her fingers when reached them, gently wrapping them around his.  She laughed again when he pulled back in surprise.  “Other side, now.”  She held her right arm up and flexed.

	“Ah, yes.  Yes, ma’am.”  The air was thick with the scent of oil and he sneezed while moving over to continue.

	“Emperor bless you,” said Sister Agonia as he placed his hands on her.  Somehow, her words and the simple phrase were less reflexive than they were for most people.  She seemed to really mean it.  That made him smile, just a little.

	“Thank you, Sister,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.  His fingers were used to the scars by now, but he still hesitated at a large, splotchy mass that went up most of the length of her arm.  Hoping she hadn’t noticed, praying not to have caused her embarrassment, he overcompensated and began to rub with a desperate quickness.

	“Got that one from a genestealer on my first mission,” she said proudly.  Tomas paused, unsure of himself, but continued as when she nodded.  “That was a good one,” she said.  “Close range kill, barely a meter.  The body kept coming at me and its blood chewed right through my armor.”  Her head was raised upwards and her voice was taking on a nostalgic tone.

	She glanced over at him.

	“Take off those robes,” she said.

	Tomas jumped back a little.  “What?!”

	“You don’t want to get oil all over it, do you?” she asked, quiet amused.  “That stuff is a bitch to scrub out.”

	He looked down at his hands and noticed the grim beginning to highlight the hem of his sleeves.

	“Besides,” she continued, “It’s hot in here.”

	Reluctantly, he pulled off the novice’s robe and placed it carefully to the side; noticing to his annoyance that his already oil-covered fingers were staining it in the process.  He shrugged, then got back to work on her arm, slathering more oil over his hand.

	She was right, it was rather hot in the armory; he hadn’t really noticed how sweaty he had become, but he was actually dripping onto the floor.  Then again, he was now standing in nothing but his shorts, alone in a room with a shirtless woman.  His pace redoubled as he realized he was finished with her back and arms.

	“Sister,” he said, “Um… I think I’m done.”

	“Think again, novice.”  She readjusted her seating motioned him closer.  “The front is always the hardest to get in with,” she said.

	He opened his mouth to protest, but caught sight of her giving him a bit of a warning glare.  Realizing there was no use protesting, he sighed and lathered up his hand again.  Tomas placed the oil can next to the Sister and paused.  His arms weren’t long enough to reach around both sides of her and there was no way he could gather up the courage to walk around to her front.

	“Um, Sister?”

	“Hmm?” she said. “Oh, here you go.”  Agonia raised her arm up and let him scooch around under and around her.

	Tomas screwed his eyes shut gingerly places his hand on Agonia’s stomach.  He started shaking all over, unable to move.

	“Don’t be shy,” she said.  “Just get to work.”

	She placed her hand over his and started to guide if around lower chest and belly, snatching up the oil and pouring to over their entwined fingers.  Together, they worked it over her warm skin, kneading the oil deep into her muscles.  As she pulled his arm to her far side, Tomas’s face pressed against her, sliding gently with the oil.  She stifled a giggle when he gulped down his nervousness.

	Agonia let her arms fall, pulling him closer.  She let go of his hand and poured more oil over it.

	“Time to go higher, novice.”

	He opened his eyes and stared at his trembling hand, holding it in front of his face.  It glistened in the torchlight.  Slowly, fearful, he glanced upward.  Her round, heavy breasts filled his view and the trembling worked its way into the rest of his body.

	Agonia squeezed him reassuringly as she empty a generous measure of the can over her chest.  In moments, her body heat caused it to run and rip down.  Droplets began to pepper the floor.

	“Don’t waste it, novice,” she said in a soothing whisper.

	His breathing became an erratic mess, but he pushed his hand upwards.  Tomas’s palm pressed into the soft flesh, amazed at how he seemed to sink into it.  He hefted it up and down once or twice, in his wonderment trying to get a feel for it.

	“Shouldn’t you be rubbing?” asked Agonia, smiling at his reaction.

	Gulping down his apprehension and trying not to think about the way his own body was tingling, Tomas began to work his way around the underside of her right breast.  He was amazed at its warmth and weight, and the way it wobbled and shifted when his hand passed across.  The young novice couldn’t help but retract his fingers into a gentle squeeze now and then, but the sister didn’t seem to mind.  If anything, she appeared to be enjoying the way his slick hand wound over and around her so gently.

	The soft flesh shifted side to side as he rubbed and lathered the oil over it.  He brought his hand inward and swiped across the point where her breast met her chest and he started as the sister tensed.

	“God Emperor,” she breathed, “right there.”

	Encouraged, he slicked his hand back and forth over that point.  She leaned back and his hand was engulfed between her muscled chest and the soft heat of her cleavage.  His fingers became terribly hot as he continued the motion.

	“I can’t even begin to tell you how good that feels,” said Sister Agonia.

	He pushed his body forward until his own chest was pressing against her back.  Tomas had to stretch out his arm to keep working upward.  His hand, already becoming wrinkled from the oil and sweat, crested the middle of her mound and his palm passed right over her nipple.

	Reflexively he squeezed, amazed to find it rather hard and pointy, like it was cold.  Realizing what he had just done he tried to pull back, only for Agonia’s hand to smother his again, pushing it deeper into her.

	Her palm closed over his and she rocked it around, gently easing him into it as his fingers started to twirl all over.  With their skin pushed together across his arm and over his chest, he could feel her breathing quicken and her heartbeat do so as well.  Agonia released his hand and let him pinch down on her nipple.  He was growing to love the way her whole breast followed wherever he pulled at it.

	A jolt passed down his spine as he felt her hand brush against his thigh.  The pace of his rubbing increased as her hand eased upwards.  He pressed his face against the side of her chest, desperately seeking the warmth.  Agonia’s fingers gently swept over the front of his boxer shorts and began to trace the outline of his bulging groin.  Tomas had already noticed himself stiffening, much to his embarrassed shock, but now couldn’t help but to prey she would do what he thought she was about to.

	Agonia placed her ring and index fingers on each side of his shaft, then used her middle to tickle along its length as if coxing it to keep growing.  He pressed himself into her hand without really knowing what he was doing.  Enticed, rubbed forward with her palm, she covered him completely.  Tomas doubled in size under her touch, and in moments he had stopped all movement except to press himself closer into her body. The tip of his penis just barely started to crest the band of his shorts.

	“Don’t forget,” she said, gently taking his hand and guiding it downward, “you still have work to do…”

	Tomas’s eyes crew wide as his fingers brushed against the rim of her bodysuit, still wound around her waist.  He looked up at her and she nodded.  Pressing his hand against her skin, he slid it past the band of fibres.  She flinched as the tip of his finger touched a warm wetness, but before he could pull his hand back she grabbed his wrist and pushed it further down.

	His hand was surrounded by a thick, gooey mess of flesh and heat.  Tomas spread his fingers out wide and, her hand still forcing his where she wanted it to go, started to brush his palm up and down faster and faster.  Agonia squeezed down on his groin painfully and began to alternately tense and relax rapidly.  Tomas started to discern the feeling of a shape, a sort of slit with folds of skin on each side, under his hand.

	Agonia twisted her grip on him so she could stroke his shaft gently under his shorts.  He began to twitch under her attentive caress, then flinched as a finger caught in a little hole.  Agonia gasped, her while body contorting, and told him to keep going.  Finding the hole once more, he pressed his finger in and started to wiggle it around.  She lifted her hand off him as he kept slicking it around her groin, moving her own up to her breast where she stated to knead into it.  Hard.

	Soon she was pressing her pelvis into his hand as vigorously as he was grinding into hers.

	“More fingers,” she commanded.

	He pressed another into her, then another.  The slopping splotch of his pumping in and out filled the armory.  The servitors simply watched, idle.

	Tomas’s breath became a frantic mess as his body tightened and he squeezed himself against her.  All of a sudden she stopped stroking him and pulled his hand away from her, pushing him away.  Desperate, he tried to push back up against her, but she nudged him aside.

	She leaned forward and rose off the bench, placing hands on each side of the bodyglove at her waist.  Slipping her thumbs into the material, she slowly slid it down, down to her knees.  As she sat back down she slid her rump back and over the side of the bench.  She kept herself hunched over, and he stared at the pair of pale white buttocks hovering in front of him.

	Large and well rounded, the ample cheeks lacked the network of scar tissue that pepper the rest of her body.  They rose and fell with her breathing and he eyes were drawn to the crack between them.  Under a tiny, round anus her labia were turning a rosy red.  The swelling lips were dripping with oil and thick goo that dripped to the floor, forming a collection of miniature puddles.  With painful slowness, her left hand reached around and gently pressed against her cheek.  Her middle finger brushed, oh so briefly, against the puffy little ring of her bum, then squeezed into the meat of her buttock with the rest of her fingers.

	Together, they slid it aside, completely exposing her to his longing gaze.

	Tentatively, he took a step forward and drew a hand towards her lips.  His heart felt as though it would break out of his chest and a dull roar pounded in his ears.  Tomas felt himself start to choke up as his finger nail just barely dabbed against her.

	In an instant she snatched up his hand and pulled him closer.  She grabbed him by both hips and pressed him against her.  He felt himself twitching as the warm liquid soaked into his shorts.  Tomas threw his hands around her, trying to grasp them across her chest.  The novice started to grind his pelvis into her, glorying in the wet sloshing sound and the burning heat pouring over his penis and down his inner thighs.

	Pressing them into his skin, Sister Agonia used her thumbs to stretch his shorts outwards at the band.  She shimmied it down, exposing his hips.  A second more and his bare buttocks were flashing.  She took a second to slide a palm over one, squeezing appreciatively.

	As Tomas pumped forward, grinding himself between her lips, his erect member caught on the band of his trousers.  He gasped as it rubbed painfully against his head, but let out a sigh of pleasure as Agonia flicked it forward and allowed him to spring outwards.

	His shorts fell down to his ankles as his moist erection slid up and down between the Sister’s buttocks.  Giggling a little, she used one hand to press him back then gathered him up in the other.  Pumping him up and down for a moment, she had to push back to keep him from pushing up against her again.  She eased the shaft to a horizontal alignment and pointed it in between his dripping labia.

	Then she let him go.

	He shot forth like a lasbolt, slapping against her with a wet crack as his shaft slid past her lips.  Tomas gasped as the heat inside her swallowed him whole.  His hands clawed frantically at her hips trying to pull closer to her body.  The juices dripping out of Agonia splotched down his balls and ran down his leg.

	Impatient, she pushed back with her ass, forcing him off her.  He slammed back with the same desperation as before and finally caught on.  Firmly grasping her by the hips, he pulled back and rocked forward.  He pulled back again, too far this time, and jerked towards her several times before he slid into her again.

	Eventually he found is rhythm and was humping forward and back like a wild beast.  He closed his eyes and buried his face in her back, pumping all the while.  Through her warm flesh he felt the rapid pulse of her heartbeat.  Almost without thinking, he tried to match that beat with his thrusting.

	Agonia grabbed up her breasts in both hands and squeezed hard, her nails digging into the soft skin painfully. He wasn’t getting far into her, but his movements were so rapid and unfailing that her whole sex began to burn with a delicious numbing pleasure.  She lifted her left breast to her mouth and flicked her tongue over the rigid nipple.  Her other hand dropped down and she began to massage her nerve, using the oil covering her body to lend her probing fingers greater speed.

	She felt an intensity building up deep inside her.  Her fingers were swiping side to side over her clitoris as fast as she could get them to move.  Through the walls of her vagina she felt his throbbing erection begin to spasm and twitch.  Moaning in anticipation, she bit down on her nipple, switching her grip to pinch the other and twist at the same time.

	With a gasp she felt her head go numb as the pressure forced its way outwards.  Muscles aflame and spasming in ecstasy, a hot jet of vaginal juices sprayed out, covering Tomas in a sticky wave.  As she clenched down on him, he too climaxed.  Yelling out incoherently he pressed himself as close to her as he could.  He was grinding so hard it was as if he was trying to shove through her, rather than into her.

	The novice’s testicles tightened, contracting upwards as he began to pump his own fluids back into her.  As Agonia felt the heat of his ejaculation, her arms shot around and slapped against his buttocks on each side.  She squeezed down and pulled him closer.

	Tomas stood there; sweat and bodily fluids dripping off him like rain and her bent forwards, breathing long, labored breaths.  After a long wait, their bodies sticking together as their sweat mixed and began to dry, the battle sister loosed her grip of his ass and let him slid out of her.

	His legs trembled beneath him and eventually gave out.  Tomas collapsed into a pile on the floor.  He sat there, panting.

	Taking a second to stretch her back and arms, Agonia stood.  The motion caught Tomas’s eye and he raised his head just in time to see the Sister bend over at the waist, peeling the rest of her bodysuit down her legs.

	Tomas’s vision and mind were consumed by the vision of her ample rear standing out and alone.  She was still soaking wet, and even as he watched a trickle of thick, white goo was starting to drip out of the pink of her vagina.  He could see her hole gaping, ever so slightly, and still twitching.

	He watched as she stood, kicking the bodysuit to the side, and turned around.  Even after she was facing him, her large breasts continued to move, carried on by momentum.  They were separated by the bench.  Tomas pushed himself up, propping up against his arms.  He smiled at the sister looming above him.

	“Can you stand?” she asked.  There was still a dripping coming from between her legs.

	“I think so,” he said.  Trying to suit action to words, he grabbed hold of the metal bench and pulled.  He was nearing a crouching position when she reached over and scooped him up, lifting from under his armpits.

	Even without her power armor, Sister Superior Agonia was a strong woman.  Tomas felt rather frail and foolish being lifted, naked, into the air.  She placed him on the bench, then turned him so a leg was on either side.

	Agonia moved over and straddled the seat herself, facing him.

	He sat there, facing the panting battle sister and not even bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at her chest.  Now that he had the chance to see them both clearly, they really were quite lovely.  And big.  Something primal inside him wanted to latch on to those golden brown nipples and suck until they fell off.

	He felt his penis begin to stir.

	“It’s good to be young, isn’t it?” she said, reaching towards him and wrapping her fingers, one at a time, around the shaft.  Agonia squeezed him playfully.  “Just about ready for another go?”

	She gave him just enough time nod once before placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back against the bench.  Agonia shimmied closer, trailing a line of slippery juice on the seat under her.  The sister leaned forward and let her breasts brush against the tip of his rapidly hardening penis.

	“Do you like them?”

	He nodded up and down rapidly.

	“Then I’ve got quite the treat for you,” she said.  With that, Agonia leaned even further towards him and clasped her cleavage together with both hands.

	Slowly at first, but with building speed, she began to lift and drop her chest, smothering his penis in the tight gap.  For Tomas, the sensation was completely different form the sex had had only moments before.  Instead of the twitching mass of wet folds pulling him deeper in, her breasts were a silky heat that seemed not to end.  Between the lubrication of the oil and her rapid pace, it felt to Tomas as if his dick was riding along an endless tunnel smooth delight.

	His back arced as the sister changed her technique, alternately thrusting one breast up and the other down.  The twisting sensation sent spasms up his spine.  Soon his hands were running through his hair and he was trying not to cry out.

	Just when she judged his hardness to be at its peak, she let go of her breasts and let them fall aside.  Tomas glanced up to see Agonia, mouth open wide, dropping her head down as if swallowing him.  Her lips were kissing the base of his penis when they closed in.  Inside her mouth, Agonia’s tongue was wrapping around his shaft, wriggling like a thing alive as it tried to taste every scrap of him.

	“God Emperor,” said Tomas, letting his head fall back.  He had no words to describe the this feeling.

	Her eyes were dancing as Agonia began to life her head up, slowly.  The sister’s lips tightened around his shaft as she rose.  Her tongue became even more frantic as it tried to whirlpool around his head before she reached the top with her lips.  With a little wet pop, she was off.

	For a moment she waited, gently stroking him up and down with her hand.  Agonia leaned forward and gave him a long, wet lick that started at his balls and ended with a delightful little swirl around the head.  The fingers of her other hand were inching towards her own groin as she swallowed him again.

	This time she dropped the effort of going slow and quickly bobbed her head up and down.  She placed her tongue in just the right way that each time she went down it would rub all along the length of her taste buds.  As she bobbed up and he moved out, she’d spread it wide and pull at the sides.

	Agonia pulled at Tomas’s arm and drew it to the top of her head, directing him to grab on.  He did so, grasping a tuft of hair with both hands.  She redoubled her pace and soon he was pulling on her hair like a lifeline.  His breath became a rapid huffing and he was starting to get light headed.

	As he began to pull, she pushed two fingers in between her dripping lips and forced them into her vagina.  She crooked them and started to rub them against that special spot she loved so much.  Soon she was moaning herself, and the vibrations were rolling from her mouth onto Tomas’s dick.

	The sound of her hand, sloshing in and out between her legs, made Tomas squeeze even harder.  He started to buck upwards into her mouth, struggling to match the rapid rhythm she was setting.

	Her free hand reached up and clawed at his chest.  The nails bit in, but not too painfully, as she drew them down.  Soon he was crisscrossed with nearly as many puffy read lines as she was of fading white scars.

	It didn’t take long after that for Tomas’s dick to start twitching again.  His back arced again and his whole body wriggled in her mouth.  She slipped her hand under him and began to draw her nails down the length of his spine.

	He bucked up a final time and she held him in the air, placing her palm under his bum and sucking at his dick like it was the cure for death.

	To him, it was more like she was drawing his soul out as she sucked his cum straight out and down her throat.  He hardly even realized his body was pumping it out at all.

	Even after he was finished and she let him drop back to the now sweat-drenched bench, she kept her mouth over him.  Her tongue sloshed from side to side, gathering up ever last trace of his orgasm.  She tweaked his testicles as though asking for more.

	Once she had decided he was completely finished, she raised her head and made a big show of swallowing the residue left in her mouth.  She raised her hand from between her legs and placed each finger in her mouth, one after the other, and licked them clean.

	He opened his mouth to speak, but she just leaned closer and pressed her lips against his.  After a second’s hesitation, he returned the gesture; clasping a hand around her head and pulling their faced together.  He felt her tongue brush along his front teeth, then she detached.

	“I think that’s enough for one night,” she said, leaning down to gather up the bodysuit.

	Tomas was tired, but after a moment he got up too.  Now that it was all over, he was sheepish and shy all over again.  He kept his eyes to the ground, until she had tied a nightgown around her body, then slipped his own robes back over his head.

	She ordered the servitors to finish cleaning.  Tomas had forgotten they were even there.

	“Novice,” she said, turning back to the boy.

	“Uh, yes?”  He said, then saw her raised eyebrow.  “Yes, Sister Superior?”

	Her mouth briefly twitched into a smile, before her old, stern expression reasserted itself.

	“You did well,” she began, “but this never happened.  Understand?”

	His eyes were wide as he answered.  “Uh, yes Sister Superior.”

	“Good,” she said, turning back towards the door.  "I was planning of giving my girls a surprise inspection, but" she waved in the general direction of their mess, "I don't think tonight will work out.  Now, finish the consecration rights and head to bed.”  She began to walk briskly to the door.

	Tomas had to sidestep as one of the servitors passed by, replacing the gauntlet he had dropped earlier.  He noticed the nameplate on the armor rack.

	“Sister Superior?” he called.

	“Yes, novice?”

	“This is Sister Desdemona’s armor…”

	Agonia was nearly at the door, but turned back and watched him.

	“Yours is down there,” he pointed towards an alcove further down the line.  His voice trailed off.  The Sister Superior was a head and shoulders taller than petite little Desdemona.

	“You’re a clever boy, you know that?”  That smile was back on her face.  “Much clever to be scrubbing floors into the wee hours of the night.”

	Something clicked in Tomas’s head and his eyes widened.

	Agonia placed her palm on the scanner and let it read her palm.

	“Yes, much too clever,” she said.  “Tomorrow I’m going to put in a request for a new equerry.  I need someone to send messages, fetch my evening meals, and polish my gear.”

	Tomas shuffled from side to side.  He was very sticky underneath his robe.

	“You might want to be prepared to move your things into the cubby-room next to my quarters.”  She walked out the door.  It closed behind her with a pneumatic hiss.