The Book of Lucia, Chapter II - Oblatio Incendia

[Lightman]

The corridors felt longer than they had any right to be.

Madeline moved through them with measured steps, her pace unhurried, though not without intent. The directions she had been given to this clandestine area had been clear enough in theory, yet in practice they unfolded into a winding path that seemed almost deliberately circuitous. Each turn revealed another stretch, another quiet passage, another door that was not the one she sought. It was as though the arena itself had chosen to test her patience before she ever reached her opponent. She did not mind. There was a certain value in the walk.

Madeline moved with a deliberate, unhurried grace. Her long brunette locks cascaded down her back, a natural wave catching the infrequent, dim overhead lighting.

, as ever, reflected the striking fusion she maintained between grace and dominance. Elegance and purpose. Thin crisscrossed straps framed her décolletage, a delicate contrast to the raw power coiled within her toned form. The magenta rose upon her form stood as a quiet declaration of identity, while the interplay of dark fabric and exposed skin spoke of both confidence and control. Nothing about her was accidental. Every detail, every line, carried intention. She walked as though she belonged here, because she did.

Her emerald gaze drifted across the sparse surroundings, though her thoughts were far from the walls that enclosed her. Instead, they lingered on Sister Chastity. Someone, Madeline would admit, she’d proved rather difficult to place. A puzzle that Madeline had not yet properly engaged with. Frustration didn’t colour her thoughts, however, but curiosity.

Since their encounter earlier, she had found herself turning the woman over in her mind, searching for something solid to grasp. Yet Chastity remained elusive. An enigma wrapped in stillness, offering words that hinted at depth while revealing very little of substance. It was not merely her demeanour. It was also the absence of anything tangible to study. That being, how does she fight?

It was funny how Madeline hadn’t considered this during their first meeting. No matches of note. No clear demonstration of skill. Nothing. Madeline’s lips pressed together slightly as she turned another corner. The records, if they existed at all beyond Chastity’s role as one of Lucia’s vocal supporters, were blank pages concerning her physical prowess. There was no footage of matches, no history of confrontations that might hint at her style or strengths, which was highly unusual in the brutally transparent world of LAW.

Her mind moved through what little she did know. Chastity had spoken of shared talents. Of pleasure. Of understanding that particular language, which defined so much of their division. While flattering, it was only one aspect of a far broader discipline. Hentai in LAW was not so singular a craft. Those who rely upon a single strength rarely find themselves enduring for long. There were always other elements. Strength. Strategy. Endurance. Adaptability. Even those who leaned heavily into their carnal appeal possessed something else to support it. Prudence, from what little had been glimpsed, carried a physical presence that spoke clearly enough. Brute force and unwavering loyalty. Lucia, for all her…miraculous theatrics, had demonstrated moments that could not be dismissed outright. Serpentine cunning and surprising resilience.

Chastity, however, remained an unanswered question. A shroud of self-imposed mist.

And yet, the English Rose knew one thing. Chastity was confident. She carried herself as if she already knew the outcome. That, more than anything, held her interest. Confidence without evidence could be foolish. Or it could be something else entirely. Something hidden. Something waiting.

Though she supposes that is what tonight is for.

Another turn, and at last, the corridor opened into something more definitive. The door stood before her. It was unremarkable at first glance, yet there was an unmistakable sense that this was the place. The journey had led here with a quiet certainty, as though all the winding paths had been guiding her towards this singular point. Madeline came to a stop, her hand resting lightly against the handle.

“For your sake…” she said softly, her voice carrying a calm, deliberate edge. “…I do hope you offer more than words.” There was a brief pause. Then, without hesitation, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

[BlackAkuma]

Sister Chastity was praying.

Or, at the least, that was what she seemed to be doing. Madeline would open to the door to find the woman in silent repose, on her knees, head bowed and fists clasped. She was still as stone, and made no movement when the door opened and a cold wind tore across the room. Her hair bristled, but little else. She might as well have been in her own world. A strange state to be in before a hentai match. Though not so strange when you consider her surroundings.

The room was made to resemble the absolute last thing anyone would expect to find in the bowels of the LAW arena - namely, a church, or a bedroom styled to resemble one. The walls were rough, weathered stone, greying with age, and several stained-glass windows adorned them. Though they weren’t anywhere near the edge of the arena and it was well into the night, a queer light shone through them, imitating the sun’s glow and casting them all in a haunting, eerie light. The floor was wooden and bare, and it creaked with every little step, echoing through the space.

And then there was the bed. Wide and expansive, it lay at the far end of the room. The sheets were white satin, fresh and clean, and there was more than enough room for two women to wrestle, tussle, and engage in more vigorous pursuits. Two long, golden candelabras rested on either side of it, with red wax dripping to the floor.

On the wall beside them were various instruments of pain and pleasure. Ropes. Whips. Floggers. A cane. A paddle, gleaming with a thick lacquer. Crude instruments, fitting for the scenery.

And, finally, above the bed, an old, rugged wooden cross. It tied everything together well.

Someone had gone through a great deal of trouble to set this all up, and had spared no expense. Who would be that someone? A fine question. Though not one Sister Chastity would answer, at least not without prodding.

The room was not the only surprise, either. In the time they had parted, Sister Chastity had made some changes to her wardrobe, as well, moving from her oddly revealing nun habit to something more

, though Madeline would only be able to see it if she came along the side, with the great shawl covering her back. A more sensual version of her attire, putting her fine, creamy skin on display, as if she were begging for it to be touched. Perhaps that wasn’t too far from the truth.

”On time. As befits a lady.” Sister Chastity kept her eyes closed. ”A few moments longer, is all I ask. You will not be long in your waiting.” She tilted her head towards the space beside her. ”Unless, of course, you would like to join me?”

[Lightman]

At first glance, the room did not surprise Madeline. In truth, it aligned rather neatly with what she had expected. LAW had never been shy about indulgence, nor about spectacle, and she herself had worked closely with designers to craft an environment suited to her own tastes. She understood the care that went into such construction. The deliberate placement of every object, the subtle manipulation of light and texture, the quiet insistence that a space should evoke something more than mere function. Madeline, ever the aesthete, could still appreciate the finer details.

The towering, rough-hewn stone walls, the stained-glass windows admitting an otherworldly glow despite the late hour, the heavy, creaking wooden floor, all coalesced into a scene of striking, if unsettling, beauty. Beneath her feet, the floor answered each step with a soft creak, as though acknowledging her presence. The atmosphere was heavy with intent, caught somewhere between reverence and something far less sacred. It was an environment that would not look out of place within the deepest recesses of a high-end BDSM dungeon, designed to delight those with a particular penchant for such things. For an audience with specific predilections, this would undoubtedly prove a most satisfying tableau.

The only things missing, Madeline mused, were a grand pipe organ and a dutiful congregation, though she suspected Chastity’s interest in voyeurism was not entirely out of the question.

Madeline’s gaze drifted towards the bed at the far end, then to the implements that adorned the walls nearby. Ropes. Whips. Instruments that spoke of control, of sensation, of boundaries meant to be tested rather than observed. A curious blend, she’d thought. Devotion and indulgence intertwined. These, too, provided another clue as to the nature of the match to come. Or perhaps they were merely props, mere dressing to set a specific mood. One could never be entirely certain with Sister Chastity.

Her attention lingered for a moment longer before she turned away, the soft shift of her bare heels echoing lightly as she moved. When she faced Chastity once more, who was still in her posed devotion, her gaze settled with a more deliberate focus. The change in attire had not gone unnoticed.

Where once there had been concealment, now there was suggestion. Fabric that revealed more than it hid, contours that spoke of softness and strength in equal measure. Though it’s still evocative of her order, it has transformed into something more revealing and sensual, one that shamelessly displays the creamy expanse of her skin. Chastity’s form carried a fullness that was not without purpose. Voluptuous, her curves flowing, undeniably soft in places, yet Madeline suspected a deceptive strength lay beneath the surface. Her biceps, though not exaggerated, hinted at a power that would demand respect. There’s weight there, but also structure, one that implied more than her mere appearance. Strength beneath softness. Potential concealed beneath presentation. It was, in its own way, fitting.

The question of that underlying strength remained, and Madeline intended to discover the answer soon enough.

When Chastity spoke, offering her invitation, Madeline’s expression did not shift. “I shall pass.” She replied calmly. “Faith, I find, is best left to those who require it.” That wasn’t said out of mockery. Only certainty. Rather than approach further, she turned once more, making her way towards the bed with the same measured grace that had carried her through the corridors. The satin sheets caught the light as she reached them, pristine and inviting in their own quiet fashion. Madeline seated herself at the edge, crossing one leg over the other with effortless poise. The magenta rose on her hip seemed to bloom in the eerie light.

[BlackAkuma]

Sister Chastity made no moves as Madeline approached. Against most, this would’ve been a foolish thing, showing her body to a foe, practically begging to be taken advantage of. But if the nun was the least bit worried about her vulnerable position, she didn’t show it. She didn’t answer her opponent’s words at first, but instead kept her place and continued to pray, whispering under her breath.

It was hauntingly quiet within the room - you would never guess that they were in the middl of an arena filled with thousands of people. Every once in a while, if you strained your ears, you might hear the distant tremors of a raucous cheer, but it was otherwise as quiet as you would expect such a place to be. Even so, Sister Chastity’s words scarcely echoed through the room.

”...for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.”

Sister Chastity opened her eyes - her glittering, tourmaline eyes - and found Madeline again. She stayed kneeling, but took a moment to look the woman over her, savoring the look of her as she sat there on the bed, in all her regal splendor. It was a look that Madeline was no doubt well accustomed to, as hungry eyes enjoyed the fullness of her fulsome form, but Sister Chastity’s eyes took unexpected detours. In particular, they lingered on the roses, elegantly woven into her garments, and seemed taken with them above all else.

Once she had drunk deep of Madeline’s form, Sister Chastity rose and took a moment to stretch, standing at her full height for a moment and even rising on the balls of her feet. ”We all require faith. Children need faith in their parents. Politicians crave it for those who would cast a vote for them. Even you had some faith in coming to this room, that I had not set some crude trap for you, that this was not a ruse to soften you for Lucia. Elsewise, why would you come?”

Sister Chastity leaned forward, just close enough to inhale and take in Madeline’s scent, a sensation that brought out a shuddering sigh. ”Wonderful. Now,” She turned about and sat on the bed beside her foe, crossing her legs in much the same manner, casual as you please. ”The rules of this match are simple. You and I are locked in this room, and you must escape. To do so, you must find a key that I have hidden. How you do so is up to you, but I suspect a cursory search will avail you little. I am exceedingly skilled at hiding things.”

Sister Chastity’s hand reached over, cautious at first, before her palm found Madeline’s bared thigh and began a slow, subtle caress. Enjoying the sensation, but also prodding and squeezing, as if testing for firmness.

”That is your goal. Mine is a touch more complicated.” She leaned in, bringing her lips close to Madeline’s ear, as if sharing a secret. ”I must make you confess. To admit your wickedness before the Lord and beg his mercy. Once I have done that, I not only claim the victory, but your body as well. For as long as you’re within these walls, you will remain my prisoner. An experience you will not find altogether unpleasing, I suspect.”

Sister Chastity shifted to her side, getting more comfortable, as her hand began to venture further up Madeline’s leg, venturing forth into more interesting lands. ”A simple enough game, and one that affords us the time to grow more acquainted with one another, you will find. Shall we begin?”

[Lightman]

Madeline had once been told that silence could be a weapon. It had come from her father; in those earlier years, she seldom chose to dwell upon now. He had spoken of how absence could unsettle more effectively than presence, how leaving space unfilled would compel others to rush in and reveal more than they intended. It was a lesson she had carried with her, even as much else had been discarded.

So she sat, composed and patient, allowing the quiet to stretch. Those most comfortable with silence are often the ones who have the least to prove. Her gaze remained fixed upon Chastity, though she made no move to interrupt the woman’s devotions. There was no urgency in her posture, no sign of impatience. Time, in this moment, belonged entirely to them. And Madeline had no intention of wasting it.

When Chastity finally stirred, when her eyes opened and that peculiar scrutiny began, Madeline did not shift beneath it. She was accustomed to being observed, to being admired, to being studied. Yet there was something different in the nun’s gaze. Something that lingered not upon the obvious, but upon the details. It did not unsettle her. It intrigued her.

“An interesting conclusion.” Madeline replied evenly, once Chastity had risen and begun to speak. “Though I suspect you give faith rather more credit than it is due.”

She adjusted her posture slightly upon the bed, her expression thoughtful rather than dismissive. “As for why I came…” she continued, her tone calm, “If this were a trap, then it would simply mean you had chosen a more direct method of achieving what you desire.” Her eyes held Chastity’s, unwavering. “And I would expect nothing less.”

There was a quiet certainty in her words, an acceptance rather than a challenge. “If you had intended to weaken me, then that only affirms what I already require of any opponent. That they do all within their power to succeed.” A faint tilt of her head followed. “Anything less would be rather disappointing.”

When the rules were laid out, Madeline listened with careful attention. A key. An escape. A confession. Simple, on the surface. Though simplicity, she knew, often concealed layers beneath. The asymmetry of it held a certain appeal. It demanded adaptability. Awareness. A willingness to engage on more than one level. Her lips curved faintly. “I see.” she murmured. “A test of mind as much as body.”

She did not recoil when Chastity’s hand found her thigh. The contact was noted, acknowledged, but not resisted. Instead, Madeline allowed it, her composure unbroken as she regarded the woman beside her. “How bold.” she remarked quietly. “Though I wonder whether you seek to distract, or simply to understand.” Her voice carried no tension, only curiosity. “As for confession…” she continued, her gaze sharpening just slightly, “…you may find that I am not so easily persuaded.”

The air between them seemed to shift, subtle yet unmistakable. When Chastity asked if they should begin, Madeline did not answer. Not with words, at least.

Instead, her hand rose with deliberate precision, fingers threading into Chastity’s head and shawl as she drew her closer. There was no hesitation in the motion, no uncertainty. It was controlled, assured. And then she closed the distance.

Her lips met Chastity’s in a deep, deliberate kiss, firm enough to establish intent, yet measured in its execution. Tongue darting in between to force entrance past those lips. It was not merely an indulgence. It was a statement. A declaration that the game had already begun.

[BlackAkuma]

”Why not both?”

”She’s coming in a bit weak on the main mic. See if you can’t subtly switch over to mic 3, that’s closer.”

”As for you being easily persuaded, well…

”She’s about to say a line, focus on her face, focus on her face.”

”I would have it no other way. Nothing easy is worth having.”

”Okay, switch to camera 2. Get a good look at Madeline’s breasts. Closer. Closer…there, that’s good. Stick with that one, then switch to the overhead if they start kissing. Just watch out for the wideshots, that shawl-habit-thing keeps getting in the way. Anyone got a bottle of water?”[/color]

Junichiro Itagaki, LAW’s associate producer, thought he was fairly good at his job. He had to be - LAW made for a volatile environment. A lot of clashing egos, and the ones offscreen could often be more explosive than those on. His job was a simple one, on paper.

For him, it was all about presentation, putting the wrestlers in the best light so that the audience could appreciate them fully. But even the simplest job could be rife with complications, and his was lousy with them.

In particular, he hated these private matches that were becoming so commonplace these days. They might have seemed easier to do on paper, since they involved only a handful of cameras in a small room, but in practice they were a pain to shoot. He had so little to work with, only a few angles to draw on to make this seem like a competent production. If they went in the exact wrong places, the shots could be more or he might miss them altogether. There was no crowd to work off, no reaction shots to get. If he had his way, he would nix them altogether.

But, if he had that option, he wouldn’t start today. Not with Sister Chastity and Madeline Christiansen. While he had initially balked at being given this match to work with out of the blue, now he found himself oddly transfixed by the two women, and for a man as inundated by sex as he was, this was no mean feat. He look on with his crew in the production booth, surrounded by glowing screens on all sides, he couldn't help but feel a stirring below.

His cameras drew closer now as the action ramped up and the two women made first contact. It was Madeline who took the initiative now, but if Sister Chastity had any problem with her forwardness, she didn’t show any such notion.

Sister Chastity accepted Madeline’s lips with an odd familiarity, the sort of comfort that only comes from comfortable lovers. A tongue slipped out to meet the Briton’s then dipped back, only to slip out a playful tease, as if she needed coaxing to reciprocate. She mewled in her opponent’s mouth, a sweet and pliant sound, somewhere between a whimper and a purr.

Arms came around Madeline’s next, and she began to fall back, pulling her opponent on top of her as she went. Her lips came away from the kiss, but only so she could breathe and place peck along her cheek, dabbing at her skin. ”Now who’s being bold.” There was that dark chuckle again. ”Now who is being bold? It is almost as if you have found something worth craving in me.”

[Lightman]

Sister Chastity had claimed, earlier in the day, that she possessed the same talents as Madeline. It was a statement that had lingered since. Madeline didn’t dismiss it, nor did she accept it, but set it aside later for further examination.

And now, with the quiet glow of candlelight dancing across stone and satin, Madeline found herself finally in a position to test that claim. There was a certain intimacy to the setting that might have felt almost romantic, were it not for the context. A church that was not a church. A bed that was not simply a bed. A contest dressed in devotion.

“I was curious.” Madeline said softly, her lips brushing against Chastity’s once more. “Well. Whether that was confidence or curiosity speaking.” The kiss resumed, unhurried, deliberate. Chastity did not resist. That, in itself, was telling.

There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty in her response. Instead, she met Madeline with a familiarity that suggested experience rather than pretence. It was not aggressive, nor was it passive. Something in between. A quiet exchange that carried its own intent beneath the surface.

Madeline allowed herself to lean into it, her body following as Chastity shifted back.

“I never said boldness was a fault.” The Englishwoman whispered back, trading secrets, her breath warm against her opponent’s lips before closing the distance again.

As Chastity reclined, drawing her down, Madeline followed without hesitation. Their forms met fully now, the layered fabrics doing little to obscure the heat that began to build between them. There was a weight to the contact, a presence that was impossible to ignore. Softness pressed against strength, contours aligning in ways that spoke less of coincidence and more of design.

Madeline adjusted herself subtly. Her thighs slid into place against Chastity’s legs, pressing inward with measured intent. The shift was not abrupt, but purposeful, guiding rather than forcing. There was a method in it. A slow application of pressure that tested response as much as it asserted control.

Her lips wandered then, leaving the mouth to trace a softer path. A gentle brush along the cheek. A fleeting touch at the jaw. Each contact light, deliberate, exploratory rather than indulgent. She lingered just long enough to make her presence known before moving again, drawing a quiet line upwards towards the ear.

“Pray tell...” Madeline murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “…does it trouble you…”

She paused, her lips hovering close, her emerald gaze lifting to meet Chastity’s cerulean crystals.

“…to find that you may have encountered something worth desiring?”

The question hung between them, as steady as her gaze. Madeline did not look away. She held that contact, that silent exchange, as though searching for something deeper beneath the surface.

[BlackAkuma]

Some lovers were in a hurry when they hit, especially in hentai matches. Understandable, really. This was a competition, after all, and it wasn’t like you were given extra points for taking your time to get an orgasm. Sex-wrestling, by its very nature, encouraged efficiency, and so many of their fellow hentai wrestlers came at things in a sloppier, taciturn manner. None of the foreplay. None of the teasing.

Madeline and Sister Chastity, however, seemed to be a different sort. To watch them now, as the Briton flowed over her opponent with an intimate familiarity and unwavering confidence, you would be forgiven for not even knowing this was supposed to be a match. There was no animosity, no frayed purposes. They were of one mind at this moment.

Madeline would find no resistance in her approach, as Sister Chastity eagerly awaited her touch. Hands ran along her back, sliding along the thin fabrics and treasuring every bit of skin they could find. Inevitably, her attention went lower and lower still, until a curious, groping hand latched onto her backside and dug in with a possessive squeeze, as her legs spread wide and invited Madeline, giving her all the access she could want.

Their eyes met once again and locked in with a sort of magnetism, as if an invisible force held them in place. The room was slightly cold, just under the regular temperature, but their bodies did an excellent job of providing whatever heat was lacking, creating a smoldering heat between them.

”And now you pray.” There was the barest hint of a laugh there, but it gave way to a sigh as ground against Madeline’s hips. ”It troubles me not. Not in the slightest.” Her arms came up to cradle Madeline’s neck, holding her with a sweet affection, as her every word poured heat over the woman’s face.

Sister Chastity’s legs wrapped their way around Madeline’s waist and pulled them together for an even tighter embrace. Incessant. Strong. Possessive, even. Muscle was beginning to emerge from those legs, gradually emerging, steel slipping from the silks. ”Such a high opinion of yourself, though.” She leaned in for a quick kiss on the lips, the barest touch, daring her foe to take so much more. “Is that your sin, Madeline? Pride”

[Lightman]

“Well, what do you know.” Madeline chuckled. “Perhaps there can be miracles.”

Knowing how to pleasure and having that competitive mindset. It was no simple thing striking that delicate balance. Madeline had seen both extremes often enough to recognise them on sight. Those who gave themselves wholly to pleasure could be intoxicating in their way, capable of drawing the mind away from all distractions, reducing the world to sensation alone. Yet they so often lacked the will to seize control, too willing to yield, too content to please rather than conquer. Others stood at the opposite end, driven, relentless, treating intimacy as little more than a means to an end. Effective, perhaps, but hollow. Mechanical. There was no artistry in it, no understanding. The finest among them understood both.

And as Sister Chastity’s legs coiled around her waist, drawing her in with a firm, insistent pull, Madeline began to suspect she was dealing with precisely that sort.

A soft breath escaped her lips at the tightening pressure, more reflex than alarm. Her body responded at once, not with resistance, but with adjustment. Years of training did not abandon her in moments like these. Her posture shifted subtly, her hips angling just enough to prevent the hold from settling into its most punishing form. One knee edged slightly forward along the mattress, creating the faintest disruption in alignment. It was not a break, not yet, but it was the beginning of one.

She allowed herself a quiet, knowing smile, and her hands moved with purpose. One settled lightly against Chastity’s side, fingers tracing along the curve of her waist before pressing in just enough to test the tension there. The other drifted lower, not to pry, but to feel. To understand. The strength in those legs was real; that much was certain. There was structure beneath the softness, a coiled firmness that spoke of discipline rather than indulgence.

Madeline shifted again, almost imperceptibly. Her hips rolled a fraction to one side, creating space where there had been none, while her upper body leaned forward just enough to redistribute the pressure. It was a slow unravelling, patient rather than forceful. A novice might have struggled, might have panicked at the tightening embrace. Madeline simply adapted.

Her gaze never left Chastity’s. “Pride?” Madeline echoed softly, the word resting easily on her tongue. There was no offence in her expression. If anything, there was a trace of amusement.“I take pride in what I have built.” The English Rose continued, her voice calm, assured. “In what I have endured to stand where I do now. That is not sin. That is acknowledgement.”

Her fingers traced a slow path upward again, deliberate, unhurried, as though the conversation and the contest were one and the same.“A parent takes pride in their child. A craftswoman in her work. Would you condemn them the same way?”

Another subtle shift of her hips followed, easing the pressure just a fraction more. “And I find it interesting…” she added, her lips drawing closer once more, her tone softening into something almost intimate. “…that you would choose the one sin that carries virtue within it.” Madeline’s smile lingered, faint but unmistakable. “It says rather more than you intended, I think.”

[BlackAkuma]

”She’s doing it again.” Prudence let out a long, haggard sigh as she watched the match from her iPhone screen. ”She’s doing her creepy seductress thing.”

She and Lucia had found themselves a private corner of the LAW arena to hold up for a little while, as they waited for Chastity and Madeline to have their match. Sister Lucia had been eager to go back home after her little Sermon on the Mount, but Prudence had to remind their diminutive leader that they’d all driven their in her car, and she didn’t relish the thought of taking back to back trips to this place in a single night. She also didn’t relish the thought of traveling back with Sister Chastity alone. Being alone with Sister Chastity was generally a bad idea.

They would wait.

While they did, Sister Prudence figured they might as well watch the match, if you could even call whatever they were doing that in the first place. So far, there hadn't even been any actual moves, just lots of pretty talk. Small wonder these two got along so well - Chastity and the rose-bitch were both talkers.

Sister Lucia came over to get a better look as Sister Prudence leaned against the wall, but the height difference made it awkward, especially when she had the belt on her shoulder. She refused to let the damned thing go. She was 66% the woman bathed with it. Let me see, let me-” Sister Lucia stood on her tiptoes for a better view, and immediately blushed. ”Oh, already? Wasting little time, I see.”

That would depend on your definition of wasting time, Sister Prudence supposed. They were exactly ripping clothes off each, but they had clearly skipped past the teasing and courting phases of the match. Madeline was on top, Sister Chastity was beneath, they were kissing and grinding and promising of so much more to come. An intimate, carnal moment.

To the untrained eye. Sister Prudence had been here before. She knew what those legs around Madeline’s chest meant. She knew where this was going. For anyone else, she might have had some small measure of sympathy. For Madeline, she hoped her ribs broke.

That was very much on the cards. As Madeline spoke, Sister Chastity adjusted her legs, pulling in tight to eliminate the space her adversary had created. Her breathing quickened and the sinews of her legs began to emerge, thickening with each passing second. She was taking away space, but giving none back. She was hardening.

But none of that strain showed on her face. She remained calm, aloof, detached, as if her head was a separate entity from the rest of her body. ”True enough, but the pride you speak of is earned. You say it is warranted, but I have doubts, beloved” She canted her head to the side, as if to get a better angle at Madeline’s eyes. ”It is time we put my mind at ease.”

Now, down came the jaws. Sister Chastity’s legs rippled with an implacable, implausible power, grinding down at Madeline’s core like a steel press. The arms around her neck grew taut as well, as they brought their lips together for a kiss that straddled the border between passion and violence, a wild embrace that gave almost as much pain as it did pleasure.