Chapter 17: The Bishop

An hour later she still waited in her new room for the Bishop to arrive. She was full of trepidation, but convinced that she knew what was expected of her. The Bishop would want to touch her, and to have her suck his male organ, as Monsignor Flavin did. What she wondered was whether she could do it with a different man, and one as important as the Bishop. At least if her nerves were bad, he would see the reluctance he had asked for.

Afterwards, Molly expected, he would want to punish her, and she felt her nipples rise at the thought. She sat quite still, dressed in her Swiss wimple and her habit, but without anything beneath it.

The door opened and the Bishop walked in, closing it behind him. Molly was surprised to see him in a suit such as Monsignor Flavin usually wore, then realised that the only times she had seen him previously had been church ceremonial, when he would naturally have been wearing robes and a mitre. Suddenly she felt much happier about the next few hours; this wasn't a distant exalted figure, this was just an old man who was a friend of the Monsignor, and was no more frightening than he.

The Bishop took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door, looked round him, and sat on the bed at the foot end. Molly smiled at him, remained standing and waited quietly; she knew it was not her place to speak first.

"Good afternoon, my child," he said, "That was a lovely smile. I hope you will cooperate without causing a fuss. Now please remove your wimple."

"Is that proper, Sir?" she asked, beginning to get into the 'reluctance' game.

"It is an order, my child; do not question my orders or I shall have to punish you."

Slowly and carefully, she removed her wimple and shook out her hair.

'Monsignor Flavin was quite right, ' the Bishop thought, 'Her hair looks much nicer kept rather longer than the Convent would allow. The dark chestnut colouring shows off her fair skin nicely. I wonder if the rest of her is milk white, or if she has freckles?'

"Come and sit beside me, my child," he said, patting the bed.

Slowly and apparently hesitantly she sat as far away from him as she could.

"Nearer to me," he coaxed.

She moved next to him and he put an avuncular arm round her shoulders.

"Monsignor Flavin tells me that you are to take part in our arrangements to help priests in difficulties?" he asked.

She dropped her eyes and blushed as she whispered, "Yes, Sir."

Pulling her gently towards him, he cupped her breast gently with his other hand. She dabbed ineffectually at it, as though trying to push it away.

"Reluctant, my child? Or did the good Monsignor indicate that I would like that?"

She nodded, ambiguously, reasoning that he could take it as he wished; both were true.

"Very well," he said, releasing her, "Stand up and take that habit off. I wish to make sure that you can help a priest properly and adequately."

Realising that the time for both sham and real reluctance was over, she did as she was told, folding the garment carefully and putting it aside. The Bishop could scarcely believe his eyes as he watched her moving. The slight bounce of her breasts and the wonderfully curved bottom were, in his professional opinion, enough to tempt a saint. Certainly his manhood sprang to attention as the habit was lifted over her head, revealing that she was nude beneath it.

When she had folded the habit, Molly walked and stood as she had been taught, immediately in front of the Bishop, and well within arm's length. He reached out almost reverentially and stroked her hip. When she didn't move, his hand trailed across to her mons, with its sparse covering of dark brown hair. Again she made no move, since Monsignor Flavin always told her what he wanted.

"Do you not open for me?" asked the Bishop.

"Of course, Sir," she said, widening her knees to allow his hand to slip between her thighs, "but the Master always tells me what to do, and doesn't like me to do things unless he tells me. He says it is disobedient for me to do what I want."

"He is quite right, my child. Please sit on my knee."

As she did so, one hand went round her back and grasped her breast, pulling her to him. The other hand turned her head gently and he kissed her lips, pushing his tongue at her. Puzzled, she allowed it to enter her mouth, but did not respond. His free hand dropped into her lap and she readily opened her thighs to allow his exploring fingers into her crack.

Breaking off the kiss, he asked, "Has nobody taught you to kiss? I thought you and one of the Novices..."

"I've never kissed anyone like that before, Sir. I am an obedient child. I will do whatever you tell me."

He was about to follow this up when he realised that his questing fingers had come up against an intact hymen.

"What, exactly, do you and Monsignor Flavin do? Tell me everything, my child," he ordered.

Molly blushed very prettily, he thought as she whispered, "We touch each other until I shudder, and then I help him to empty himself, Sir."

Clearly the Monsignor had not included Anglo-Saxon terminology in his teachings.

"And how do you help him to do that, my child? With your hand?"

"Yes, Sir, at first. Then with my mouth."