The Nun's Vow To The Devil

Surprise, Surprise

He froze for a split second, his eyebrow arching in surprise, like he'd expected whimpers, tears of being forced to do what she didn't want.

But I was not what he was expecting. Then that smirk returned, slower this time. "Wow, you surprise me every single time, palomita. All this... caused by the drug? So needy... and wanting." He reached for the side table, picking up small silver clips that glinted under the low light.

"What are those?" I asked, but my tone was curious now, edged with defiance, my body arching toward him without permission.

He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned over me, pinching one n****e between his fingers first, rolling it until I moaned, loud and unashamed. Then he attached the clip, the sharp bite sending fire through my chest, pleasure and pain twisting together until I couldn't tell them apart.

I thrashed against the ropes, my back bowing off the table, a cry escaping my lips. "Oh God—"

He clipped the other n****e just as quickly, the dual sensation making stars explode behind my eyes. My p***y throbbed harder, a deep, pulsing need that had me spreading my legs wider without thinking, juices slicking my thighs as I writhed.

He stepped back, eyes fixed on my spread legs, on the wetness glistening there, exposed through the underwear's slit. "Look at you," he said, his voice rougher now. "Thrashing like a demon. Begging without words. You make me feel like a pastor delivering you from your sins."

"Aren't you suppose to touch me then, priest?" I heard myself say, the words spilling out fierce and demanding, that hidden part of me taking over completely. "Or are you all talk? Sitting there with your whiskey like you don't want this as bad as I do."

He chuckled then, low and dark, setting the glass down and pulling something else from the side table—a small vial or tube, I couldn't see clearly, my vision were all hazy. He walked toward me, unhurried, twisting it open with a soft pop that echoed in the room.

"What... are you doing?" I struggled to say, my voice husky, body still thrashing from the clips' bite and the drug's fire.

He sipped his whiskey once more, savoring it, then set it aside. “You wanted me to touch you, I am only fulfilling your wishes," he replied simply.

Before I could process, I felt it.

A cool, smooth object pressing at my entrance, then shoving inside, tight and stretching, the intrusion painful at first making me wince, I closed my eyes and felt it settle inside my hole.

My toes clenched, I bit my lips to bite back the overwhelming sweetness that filled my core, my hips bucked, unsure if it was agony or ecstasy ripping through me, tears springing to my eyes.

Then another cool thing—smaller, vibrating maybe? pressed firmly against my c**t, the pressure making my whole body seize.

I froze, my inner thighs shaking, sounds of wetness filled the room. The aroma of s*x filling the atmosphere. I felt…I…I don't know…how I…I clenched my fists, my eyes rolled up.

Amd for the first time in year. I cursed. “f**k!”

It came out of me from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through my veins.

He pulled up a chair right beside the table, settling into it like he was watching a show. His eyes never left mine, even as the sensations built, wave after wave.

"You... you enjoy this," I gasped, tears streaming down my cheeks now, mixing pain and need and that fierce, taunting fire inside me.

He didn't say a word. Just watched, letting the tears flow, his smirk deepening as my body betrayed every secret I had left.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

My breath hitched. "What... what are you doing?"

He didn't answer. His thumb moved across the screen. A second later the thing inside me—the cool, unyielding intruder—hummed to life.

Low at first. A gentle buzz that made my inner walls flutter.

I jerked against the ropes, a startled moan ripping out of me. "Oh…"

He tapped again.

The vibration climbed, stronger, deeper, pressing right against that spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids. My hips snapped up off the table without permission. My breasts shaking, and with each shake the clamps pulled against the sensitive numbs.

"Too much," I whimpered, but my voice cracked into something needy. "Please—"

Another tap.

It dropped low again, teasing, barely there.

I sobbed in frustration, hips rolling uselessly, trying to find the rhythm he'd just stolen away. "Don't—don't play with me like that—"

He tilted his head, eyes locked on my face, then on the way my body arched and writhed. One more tap.

High again. The vibrations pulsed in waves now—up, down, up, down—building me higher each time, then yanking me back before I could reach the peak of highest pleasure.

I was thrashing, ropes biting into my wrists, n*****s throbbing under the clips, c**t swollen and pulsing against the second toy he'd pressed there. Wetness leaked out around the intrusion inside me, slicking my thighs, the table, everything.

"Please," I begged, the word torn out of me. "Please let me—let me come—"

He watched for one long, endless second.

Then he tapped once more.

The vibration surged faster than before.

My whole body seized.

My legs now high up, opened wider. The vibrations rubbing my inner walls, my clits. I bit my lips as my core tightened. Goosebumps filling my skin.

And a scream ripped from my throat as the orgasm crashed through me. My thighs shook uncontrollably, muscles locking, hips bucking so hard the table creaked. Wave after wave tore through me until I was sobbing with it, pleasure so sharp it hurt, tears streaming sideways into my hair.

When it finally crested and started to ebb, I collapsed back against the table, chest heaving, body limp and trembling.

The vibration... stopped.

Completely.

I blinked through wet lashes, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He was gone.

The chair empty. The whiskey glass abandoned on the side table. The room suddenly huge and cold without him in it.

I was alone.

Spread open on the table, legs still parted, toys still inside and against me—silent now, but my body still twitching with aftershocks. The ropes held my wrists high. I couldn't reach down. Couldn't cover myself. Couldn't even close my thighs properly.

Shame rushed in like ice water.

Hot tears welled up again, different this time. Not from pleasure. Not from pain. From the sudden, crushing emptiness.

"Why..." The word cracked out of me, small and broken. "Why..."

I pulled at the ropes, uselessly. My voice rose. "Why did you leave me like this?!"

Nothing answered.

The toys sat inside me, mocking me with their stillness. My c**t throbbed dully, oversensitive, aching for more even as humiliation burned through every inch of skin.

"You f*****g coward," I whispered at the empty room, voice shaking. "Too ashamed to touch a virgin? Too scared to finish what you started?"

The words echoed back at me.

I screamed then—raw, furious, ashamed. "Come back! You bastard, come back and finish it!"

My body shook with sobs. The orgasm still lingered in my muscles, a cruel afterglow that made every twitch feel like betrayal. I was dripping, exposed, used, and abandoned.

And the worst part?

Part of me, that dark, taunting part that had taunted him earlier–wanted him to come back.

Wanted him to see me like this.

Wanted him to touch me.

I closed my eyes tight, tears slipping free, and hated myself more than I ever had.

The room stayed silent.

He didn't come back.