Author's Note: It has been awhile since I've written something different than a short book or focusing on a long book like Wings of Light. Anyway here's pretty smutty and dirty one-shot for all people who're suckers for Nunsignor, besides priest kink. If you don't feel utterly comfortable and priest kink isn't your thing, consequently, just don't read this one-shot! I'm not recommending it for everyone, in case, it's not my responsibility how do you feel afterwards except the piece of work and the mental stamina. Last but not least, I hope you like and enjoy it! 

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Like every patient with nothing left after herself, Judy was destined to spend the rest of her days, committed against her will behind the lifeless, dull walls of the mental hospital for criminally insane. Nothing left as a piece of memory or remarkable paraphernalia to use or retrieve. They could be already donated to the church. From her make-up supplies which were a few and rakish up to her Holy Bible with leather, stable cover. Furthermore, no family member or somebody else from her inner circle could mourn over her death.

Only God was by her side in the toughest times even during the tribulations as a patient with the disheveled appearance, losing its luster and genuine golden color of her lion mane of unkempt silver-gilded tresses, piling up on her shoulders and framing her round, feebly full profile with unrealistically palish skin tone after not exposing her skin to natural sunlight or any kind of a light at least. God supervised her, judged her actions and decisions by weighing them on scales, determining which side leant more.

For her own surprise while innocently sitting on the tattered sofa in the common room, the Monsignor during his double check in the common room, in case, if certain inmates were missing in the corner of his stark, studious eye and delivering the austere message to his closest person in the whole madhouse, who was nothing than a madwoman he wanted to see her in his office within an hour without mentioning the reason and explaining himself what were his intentions of the call.

The Bostonian could wonder yet what his intentions to require her presence within an hour at his office are and what exactly his motives are. Misbehaviour. Ruckus, pulsating in the common room or somewhere else. Not taking her regular medicine which muddled her mind and losing her true sanity. He had something to tell her exceedingly and she'd be the sole person, knowing his little secret or his recently accomplished goal. Judy could still picturing the scenarios, playing in her jaded mind and their dynamic play and his stern, nonchalantly velvety voice tingling her ears with the most mellow, eloquent tune as a morning birdsong, whilst spelled each syllable and word with eloquence. Eloquence and smoothness in his utterance, ideally illustrating his academic nature.

As soon as the blonde rapped on the love of her life's office door, awaiting agitatedly his response until a velvety with British lilt voice accented on the simple exclaimation, instantly accepting the invited guest at his office:

"Yes? Come in!"

Once the doorknob was steadily held by a petite, pallid hand with sufficient firmness when the feminine, docile footsteps echoed against the concerted flooring after stepping inside her former boss's office, lifting his studious, glassy gawk from the newspaper by rolling it as a scroll with his pristinely strong fingers, snatching his pair of copper Helvetica bold eyeglasses from his parchment with light-heavy wrinkles complexion.

"Monsignor, ya wanted to see me!" The precision in her arrival wasn't amusing at all for the man of the cloth, fixing his collar and the last background noise that clang was the door slam, sending crude waves to the man of the cloth's ears, tingling notorious tunes.He personally knew perfectly Jude in person as an ex-coworker of his and most of all, an employee. The blonde was the most diligent co-worker of his, known for her brilliant intelligence, creativity, authority, benevolent nature and doubtless responsibility, poured in her hard work. Moreover, it's been awhile since she's stepped in her former boss's office.

"Just take a seat, Jude!" The manipulation of his ushering mammoth, alabaster hand indicating the free seat on the chair against his hardwood desk was sufficiently welcoming, polite, demonstrating his professionalism and gentlemanly nature, whilst the blonde was approaching the desk, her front ivory, still firm for her age teeth nibbled on her lower chapped, roseate lip, reluctant to suppress his imminent, unpredictable intentions and his honeyed, calm voice, chanting galore of angelic anthems.

Once her bony with mildly perfectly normal for her feminine anatomy as a map stretch marks rear dropped on the wooden, cherry wood chair and crossing her legs femininely, her fidgety fingers were idly perched on her lap.

"I'd like to know what makes ya to call me over yar office an hour ago, Father!" Her Boston lilt accented her rhetorical inquiry, fixating her hazelish-brown orbs, glimmering childlike inquisitiveness on the British compatriot's youthfully unblemished, vibrant chocolate brown orbs. Vaguely friendly smile crawled on the British compatriot's pale-pinkish, soft as satin lips. The pale, mid-winter daylight light filtered the austere office, bathing the both adults' exposed fleshes with natural light, fertilizing them. Further, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer didn't want to violate with the love of her life's goodwill and posing excessive in its quantity questions per a few seconds as if her distraction played a crucial role in her ignorance and missing the essential even secondary information's assimilation and recension.

"Well, do you remember when we're business partners just before your removal from your position and clerical possessions, Jude?" The velvety undertones, highlighting the older woman's first name sent shivers and paroxysm down her frail skeleton. Mirth at the recollected prominent memories during her nunnery and her partnership with the British aristocrat brightened her unnaturally pallid, porcelain complexion and saturating flames flickered her alight caramel brown pools with the warmest, the most eye-catching caramel brown.

"I-I do, Timothy!" The mirth didn't left her face at all. Cherry, ingenous blush touched her chubby, well-carved by God's hands with feminine flesh and blood cheeks with fragility. In the meanwhile, the younger man scanned with his pair of cocoa brown embers his rare bird from head to toes especially transifixing his utter focus on her round profile especially the outstanding blush that distracted him with the merriment.

The suddenness of the silence froze the both victims as the priest surveyed in a scrutiny his recent visitor's body language and manners. His stare evacuated her self-confidence magically even when she opted to sort her mind and formulate her impending thoughts in an outspoken constructed utterance.

The blush and idiotic smiles which every time were bravely worn on the former pious holy woman's porcelain, alabaster complexion as armor were read fuzzily. Whether she was pleased with his presence platonically or on the contrary, cagging inside her arcanely intensifying feelings and impure, explicit thoughts of the devotional member of the clergy, fogging her ocean of thoughts.

"What were you exactly thinking of me?" All of a sudden, Timothy lifted up from his seat by ambling up to the blonde. His gravely posed question with deep, hoarse voice tingled angelic hymns in Jude's sensitive, petite ears especially when their proximity was less than a couple of inches, his rear perching on the top of the hardwood desk. The mirth fell off from the former holy woman's face, suckling on her lower lip, reluctant to resist the urge to conceal the hints of nervousness and his domineering humor. "Not just as a business partner." His coffee brown embers attempted to read the older lady's smile, eyes and blush with an ease.

"That yar friendly, open-minded, hardworking and well-educated!" As the older lady listed the prominent personality traits, readily noting and articulating, goofy smile blossomed across her rosy-coloured, chapped lips until a smug grin, loomed on Timothy's still fresh, young-looking face. Wicked, inward giggle escaped his lips, solely distinctive for him at Jude's failure to deliver the answer on the question which he already knew by heart its true response. "But I can't tell ya right away my secrets."

"Don't worry about this one, Jude!" When she felt the aspiring Monsignor's colossal, smooth hand clawing her dainty shoulder as the former nun's epidermis was mapped in electrifying goosebumps, plaguing her train of thoughts after longing for a long time to feel the man of the cloth's lethally smooth, gentle touch on any body part didn't mop off her smile from her lips. "I know right away what you're exactly thinking of and you just can't get away once the deepest secrets hop off your mouth." Suddenly his clawed hand manipulated the former sleazy nightclub singer's knees perching down on the cold, cemented flooring of the office, her petite frame, sitting on her own knees with scarcely an inch proximity dividing them. Her pallid face was already against his hard crotch even remarkably bulging through his loosen trousers, tight enough to contour the hard manhood and his genuine masculinity. Meanwhile, his long pristine fingers reached for her halo ringlet of unkempt silver-gilt curls, playing with them and admiring its endless softness. "Stay on your knees, Jude! That's just the beginning." His honeyed whisper chanted eloquent, elating birdsong from the wee hours in the morning, paroxysm and warmness swamping the pit of her stomach until it plummeted downward, plaguing her lower abdomen and the untouched areas by a reprenstative of the opposite sex. The sharpness of Timothy's British lilt punctured the last sentence as a command whilst the older woman's eyes widened in shock and bemusement.

Shock, stinging her eyelids widely opened for witnessing for first time or the fewest times when her former boss could show his true colors as a leader and most of all, demonstrating his domineering side. Bemusement how his command could grant consequences and an embarrassing, arcane silence which was durable for a minute solely, in fact, what the British compatriot's recent intentions were didn't show any hints of keeping his vow unbroken for long and seeking God's guidance to clean the mess of his unblemished deeds and already broken vows. Her heart sunk in oblivion.

Furthermore, the Bostonian has never allowed any reprenstative of the opposite sex to manipulate her mentally and physically even bundle her violently in another inescapable, pitch-black chaos all over again just like in her past life as a promiscuous jazz nightclub singer except the British compatriot was the one of a kind man whose touches and delicate words as played flute stings with its cradling fingers were yearned for a long time. Anyway that was just Timothy Howard. The man of her dreams, in spite of the betrayal after building a stable friendship for years, cusping between business and true friendship, between platonicism and romance.

"Timothy, yar breaking a vow! You're a priest and I'm just a-" All of a sudden, the younger man cut her off curtly whilst one of his hands stilled on her long honey mop of curls, whilst his solely free hand's fingers slithered down to his slacks' zip to unzip them and unbuckle its stubborn belt until it no longer secured his abdomen-clad charcoal black trousers. The sound of unzipping and unbuckled belt spoke the language of trouble.

"Sh, shh, Jude! I want you to confess what exactly burdens you." Scornful giggle clicked the roof of her mouth when his fingers slithered from her long golden hair downward to her chin, tilting her head to meet his piercing, brutally honest chocolate brown embers, igniting the fieriest gaze. "Or rather what's on your mind, because don't make me to speak it out loud what I've read in your pretending to be the goody two shoes, guiltless child's eyes that look at me." What the former religious sister of the church didn't want the love of her life was to read her mind momentarily and leak every fragment of her impure thoughts. Judy felt so vulnerable, small and weak under Timothy's gaze. The further background sounds, playing in the foreground of the old, dilapidating madhouse were oblivious for them.

"If ya don't tell me what are yar intentions, ya don't have any clue what I'm capable of." After his trousers dropped its legs down to his ankles, exposing nothing else than his plain boxers, hugging his bulge and his top along with the clerical collar, a deep breath flushed her chest shortly before her retaliation. "You don't even understand what are you doing now except menacing your career and everything you worked so hard to be up to here, besides humiliating me."

"Who are you talking to right now?" Suddenly the British aristocrat snapped at Jude, resonance vibrating in his throat, quirking his eyebrow whilst Jude's instincts after he thrusted his member, donned in his underwear to contact her chapped, naturally roseate lips. They grazed the cotton boxers' fabric, feeling the erected crotch urging her to remove his boxers' waistband from his abdomen until it springs up freely and having the ultimate freedom to tease it. How long it has been when she craved this to happen, although being aware of the consequences? Her immense experience with men, who brought her trouble in general were the bricks of the built experience with the sexual pleasures. She knew what she was exactly doing. "Who is it you think you see? Do you know what trouble it will bring us? Even if I ignored the consequences and dedicated to the desires and needs, you won't believe me until we experience and feel it." In the interval, the blonde's slim, long as piano keys fingers lazily reached for the boxers' waistband by snatching them slowly and steadily from his long legs. "I know what do you exactly want Jude and I just want to feel-"

"To feel once the desires even as a priest and when God can only judge ya?" Meantime, Timothy managed a humble, agreeable nod.

"Exactly! I'm still wondering why the priests and nuns are just forbidden from these unholy acts though by judging the Greek mythology, therefore the Gods and Goddesses weren't flawless and didn't keep their vows at all. Briefly, they're like everybody of us. Making mistakes, breaking their vows and they allowed themselves to delve in the unholy ocean of lust and the desires." Even when unsacred words were formulating the utterance, generous searing powder of violently with sanguine blush powdered the holy man's cheeks, sweltering heat crawled underneath his facial skin, eyeing the patient's slow, covetable motion nonetheless. The notion of lust, desire and sensuality's spells, casted on the curse of took vows and the celestial sensation of feeling and experiencing through the dynamic roller coaster of wishes and impulses. "For example, as a nun, I bet you have thought of me every night and doing this to yourself!" The unscared words were a third wheel, limping in the beginning of his tongue until his slacks pooled his ankles. At the moment, Jude's fingers sultrily mounted slowly and delicately from his calves up to his just sprung up, freshly erected member. "Holy Jesus!" The Monsignor choked, swallowing hard until his cocoa brown orbs stung widened in speechlessness. Her naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips were wrapped around the member's head, whilst her fingers teased and worked technically on the stiffness, her tongue whirling and twirling the precum, when her mouth swallowed its length. Little did the Bostonian know how big it could be the Monsignor's untouched, vulnerable by its anatomy's sensitivity manhood.

"Mmmm! I didn't know yar going to be that huge, Monsignor!" She mumbled, whereas her only free hand that was teasing its stiffness shifted its attention to the testicles, cupping them and massaging them slowly and steadily. In the meanwhile, the British aristocrat grabbed with balled fists the long gilt mop of unruly tresses, aiding her to tease him. Hedonistic, quiet moans and groans lingering on his tongue, unable to control himself anymore. He thrust his hips vigorously, increasing its pace of his member. The foreign feeling sonly became his second nature and he easened its muster, despite as a member of the clergy, his purity and virginity along with his goals were more important to raise in the highest tiers in the diocese.

"Jude!" Breathy mewl dripped from his mouth, cocking back his head, incapable of resisting the patient Succubus's abilities, judging her experience. Syllables lurched in the back of his throat and transfixing his ogle on the former sister of the church teasing and pleasuring him. "I'm not ready yet."

"For what aren't ya ready, Timothy? To come in my mouth?" Afterwards the pop sound of her lips unwrapping around his member by releasing it and her fingers admiring its length, peppering with tender, feather kisses all over it and licking slowly, gently with her tongue tip until her wet tongue peaked to his cock head, salivating it and supervising his facial expressions. The louder moans and groans echoed in the austere office.

"So as you think I'm not ready yet, is that part of your fantasies?"

"Mhm!"

Within a couple of thrusts and bucking hips, suddenly his mouth-watering semen was planted in the corners of Judy's mouth, licking greedily her lips after releasing its cock from her mouth and emitting husky chuckle. The salty cum that laced her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue, flickered vehemently her caramel brown pools with the most vibrant caramel and elation dancing rhythmically across her lips and irises.Throaty purr of satisfaction escaped the middle-aged woman's lips, savoring its salty juices of the cum and blatantly swallowing them.

They were like the curious children of God and its very first creations, made of flesh and blood. Adam and Eve. The punishment playing the major role of the serpent, tempting the both first creations to savor from the forbidden fruit.

"I knew it how impure were your thoughts are and I can clearly see it, thanks to your blushes and smiles!" Meanwhile, Timothy gingerly heaved Jude from the cemented flooring as her back was turned to its owner, bending against the hardwood bureau, nibbling on her lower plump lip pensively, attentively as she was all ears. "One of your secrets finally leaked but you shall promise me this stays between us as a little secret, right?"

"Mhm!" In the interim, the low humming in approval parted the older woman's lips until she felt her still drop-dead gorgeous, leanly long legs were already bared after the ambitious Monsignor lifted its rigidly shapeless patient gown's hem up to her rear, exposing her dainty, cherub buttocks with its cotton oyster-white panties securing her already drenched folds. Moreover Timothy muffled a content groan at the sight of the stark legs and buttocks, swallowing hard and opting to recollect his mind. "But I've always had impure thoughts of you." Despite the blunt confession, the holy priest lifted up his mammoth, veiny hand, seconds before the smack across the buttocks, trying his best the slap to not leave welts and bruises all over her rear, biting his tongue surreptiously. "Jesus Christ!" That was actually part of my fantasies too." Solely audible for her the whisper curled upon her lips, flinching at the first slap, contacting her bum.

"That's very," After the second smack across her bum, the man of the cloth's strawberry-coloured tongue conjugated a reprimand though the Bostonian scarcely felt any sensation of pain, surging her frail skeleton after being already putting herself in the patients' shoes for her crude punishments with the canes. "That's very filthy and that's why you deserve to be punished for your sins, Jude!" Within a couple of slaps, he traced gingerly, featherly the sanguine traces of his tads fingers all over her small buttocks, admiring its peachy shape and softness, carving the former woman of the cloth's ass cheeks. "Wasn't that part of your fantasies?"

"Anything where we're sinning in the name of our desires." Judy muffled whimper, whilst her ass cheeks ached for his delicate, gentleman touch and the coarse, masochistic smacks and hedonistic indulgence towards the pain she coveted to reflect her call to arms of her kinky nature. "And in the name of the Lord." Suddenly Jude felt her panties being yanked down to her knees, weak at Timothy's pristine, childlike curious fondle, prickling her whole figure with electrized goosebumps, bristling and mirroring the true nature of the sensation which the former licentious jazz nightclub singer was succumbed by nobody else than the other men. What it struck her first was the different patterns of authorative nature, dividing Timothy and her one-night stand lovers in her past life before nunnery. The one-night stand lovers, craving to taste her flesh and juices after swiftly, savagely discarding in a swift, careless motion her attires unlike the clergyman. "Oh God! Right there." Breathy, guttural moan almost died on her tongue tip when she felt the priest's fingers rubbing on circles the mauve swollen bud of nerves clumsily sluggish, whereas one of her elvish, creamy hands cupped her firm, round breast, palming its erected nipple, pebbled by the crudely common chilly climate, dwelling as an uninvited guest behind the dull walls of Briarcliff. "Quicker!" Persistent reprimand, emphasized in a sharp tone commanded the inexperienced holy man to increase rapidly the pace of his fingers, kneading on circles the erected clit though noting his lack of confidence after flapping its feather, grandiose divinely golden wings of self-esteem from his toned chest. In the meantime, his still hard, veiny and stiff member poked her bare, silky inner thigh. Sending immediate sensations of infernal hunger for his cock to fill her core's barrens and contracting its core walls with his hardness.

At the moment, the Bostonian increased the pace of her rutting hips, maneuvering to ride Timothy's fingers that lingered on her erected clit until his fingers slipped at her entrance, commencing with slow thrusts until they escalated to ferociously swifter.

"Oh sweet Jesus! I'm sure ya would love to taste my juices, Father! Isn't that true at all?" Wicked, diabolic whisper wasn't suppressed by the former member of the church, biting her lower lip, failing to muffle the shrilling feminine, steamy moans and groans. Satisfied gasp surged from the top of Timothy's lungs. "Yar once holy whore's now in yar office for the punishment I've always desired." Her tongue crafted the strong language which was a blasphemy with fever, contaminating the breathy syllables. "Yar doing not just a good job. A splendid job with the repenting soul." Complacent, dark grin opened her mouth, unable to catch her breath until he slipped out his fingers from her core and licking the salty, sticky juices complacently, baptizing his fingertips and heaving a heavy sigh just before positioning his hard crotch at her entrance. "Father, I've a question!"

"I'm listening." After the blatant, impulsive popping sound of wrapping his pale-pinkish, damp lips around his fingertips and devouring slowly but surely, he darted his coffee brown irises to her without averting promptly, he mumbled calmly.

"What do ya think about all this? Don't ya just like it?"

"I-I do like it." The stutter stifled a girlishly coy, amused giggle from the older woman, raising an arch of her dark, thin eyebrow.

"Yar lying to me. By judging yar face and by the way you sounded, I'm certain you love it." Her tongue clicked in the scoff, his delicate, veiny hands spread her buttocks, giving him a better access to position his manhood. "Don't ever forget the lie is also a sin!" Sassy emphasis taunted the British compatriot's boyish, sheepish snigger. "But I have never seen yar other side like before."

"I have showed it."

"Yeah but like a few times only! And yar currently showing it."

"The rules must be followed and the repenting souls should be got in the right track before being out of the light and God's sight!"

"That's what I'm talking about, Monsignor!" All of a sudden, the British compatriot leaned against his rare bird, his warm, minty breath fanning lightly her earlobe and her side profile before starting with the painful, slow thrusts. "Urm, I have seen ya like a couple of times being sternly domineering as if ya sincerely stick to the discipline and strictness." The corner of her hazelish-brown eye, she held his lewd stare.

"That's true! And it's high time for repentance." In the interval, he commenced to thrust inside her with the possibly slowest pace, whispering past her ear sensually, electroshocking her satin flesh with his words in low voice.

"Holy shit! Yar still hard. Isn't that again for me, Father?" What it mesmerized was Timothy didn't withdraw his parchment, youthful complexion from her earlobe until his solely free hand reached for her swan neck, curling his long, strong fingers around the palish, sleek skin of her neck, choking her.

"You guessed correctly!" Within a couple of thrusts, subsequently the pain subdued in the void, filled with ecstatic moans and groans, sailing in the office's background and pleasure, numbing their binds and whirlpool of thoughts. "And now just spit it out, Jude!" He insisted the blonde to begin with the prayers.

"Forgive me Father for I've sinned," The grasp of the curled fingers circa her throat managed to tighten, chocking in her mid-sentence, bucking her thighs vehemently and steadily.

"And let's pray together!"

Within series of thrusts along with the symphony of moans and groans, sweeter than angelic hymns and louder than a prayer, their climaxes were approaching until he planted his seed inside her and unplugging his hard crotch from her entrance, reciting in a mumble the prayer together after she put on back her panties, guarding her rear and the rigidly shapeless patient gown's hem flared across her round, well-carved knees and getting from his desk.

The punishment was the sweetest forbidden fruit to be savored by the devotional member of the church by punishing the repentant soul for its sins, unlocking her devilishly Jekyll and Hyde side in a jiffy.

And the austere, welcoming office of Monsignor Timothy Howard was numbed by the silence, the eloquently high-pitched birdsongs, encircling the old asylum in the wee hours of the afternoon and the desperate bewails of patients whirling and twirling in a chaotic vortex all over the grand façade.