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On they went down the hall to the dormitory showers. She was being held in the aspirant’s wing, but none of the girls were in sight. Only Kalquorians were present, their features lit with delighted smiles as they caught sight of Doljen forcing her along the route. More offers of assistance greeted her. Tongues peeked out to wet lips.
That oddly exciting scent of cinnamon, everywhere.
Cries issued from the end of the hall. The young women under her care, their voices raised. But they didn’t cry for help. Nor from fear.
They called out in pleasure. Rapture. Bliss.
Bernadette gasped. The corruption had already begun. The Kalquorians were defiling the nuns and aspirants, teaching them the sins of the body. Successfully, from the sounds of it.
“Bastards!”
“They aren’t as stubborn as you, my lovely. Come along now. Unless you’re dragging your feet because you enjoy giving my crewmates a show?”
She snarled in fury, especially since they approached another pair of guards who called compliments and offers to bathe her, along with other activities. But she did hurry faster toward the showers. She was at a run when they reached the door, Doljen laughing behind her.
She turned difficult again once they were inside. Her obstinacy resulted in him shoving her to a stall. Once there, he looked her over.
“Your scent is stronger. You’re giving me suspicions about your inclinations, Bernadette. I need to investigate.”
He pushed her against the wall, still pinning her wrists at the base of her spine. He grasped her thigh and pulled it to expose her sex to his scrutiny. He bent to inspect her, ignoring her infuriated yells and struggles.
“As I suspected,” he murmured when she paused in her shouting to catch her breath. “Your clit is swollen. Parading before appreciative men excited you.”
His grip on her thigh moved up. His thumb rubbed the wetness there, the proof of his assertion. Bernadette froze, her thoughts tumbling over themselves.
His touch was a bare inch from her womanhood. The evidence of her sin glistened before him. Her sex throbbed with the excitement she’d fought to ignore as he’d forced her past a gauntlet of men, their gazes so hot and wanting, she’d felt as if they’d physically caressed her.
“Bernadette.” Doljen’s voice was low, sensual silk as he continued to stroke so very near where her pulse pounded. “You enjoyed displaying yourself.”
“No,” she choked. Prophets, his lips were inches from her sex again. She could sense his breath on her, teasing her with a hint of what it would feel like if he actually touched herthere. His thumb, drawing circles so close to that heated place…
“Yes. Here is the proof of what you wish to deny; your nature as a woman who deserves to be cherished. Loved. Brought to rapture so intense that it leaves you screaming.”
She squeezed her eyes closed to shut him out. It was impossible, however. His touch couldn’t be denied. His exhales grew louder, their warmth balmy on her clitoris and nether lips. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew he ogled her, witnessing her wet and trembling for him.
She knew at that instant he’d take her. There, in the shower, he’d press himself inside her, her wetness an invitation to sin. He’d fill her with his lust, then with his seed, debasing her. Theworst of it was, a piece of her wanted it. Try as she might to deny it, there was a devouring need within for him to spoil her purity.
He released her leg, allowing her foot to descend to the tiled floor. His knowing smile greeted her startled gaze as he straightened to tower over her.
He pressed the shower’s temperature setting, told the computer her name. The water came on at her preferred warmth, splattering her as he urged her into its stream, avoiding it for the most part.
“Wash.” He tossed her a cloth from the stack on a nearby shelf.
When she began to turn from him to show him her back only, he barked for her to face front. She would have defied him, but she feared he’d put his hands on her again. She feared the traitorous portion of her would crumble her resolve.
She wiped herself over with the soapy cloth, her movements clumsy at first. His gaze followed everywhere the cloth went.
On display for him, she was aware once more of her sex throbbing. Was she indeed some kind of warped exhibitionist?
No. She was Sister Bernadette, the terror of the aspirants. She wouldn’t give in to feminine weakness. Especially before a Kalquorian.
Her movements became more assured as she found her strength once more. Defiance reasserted itself, and when she reached her feet, drawing her legs up in turn to rub between her toes, she was meeting Doljen’s amusement with her grim stare.
“Done,” she snapped, throwing the cloth at him.
“You missed a few spots,” he said, tossing it back. “Breasts, pussy, and ass. Wash.”
She’d avoided doing so for fear of what he might do if he saw her touching those places. His gaze…no. She mustn’t.
