Abbess's New Dog
Copyright© 2026 by Thomas Spencer
Chapter 4
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Transferred to the isolated Abbey of Sainte-Croix, young Nun Éloïse expects a life of prayer and quiet devotion. Instead, she falls into the clutches of the powerful and seductive Abbess Isolde - a secret dominatrix who rules the nunnery with iron discipline and insatiable lust. What begins as confusing touches and humiliating "exercises" quickly escalates into brutal spankings, strapon training, pet play, and total sexual surrender. Éloïse's innocent body is stretched, used, and broken until sh
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa ft/ft Fa/ft Fa ft Mult Teenagers Blackmail Coercion NonConsensual Rape Reluctant Romantic Slavery Lesbian BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Gang Bang Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Analingus First Fisting Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Squirting Voyeurism AI Generated
I stumbled back through the darkened cloister to my cell, slight tears still glistening in my blue eyes. My bare buttocks throbbed with every step, the skin hot and deeply marked from the many firm strokes of Mother Isolde’s paddle. She had continued the punishment at length that night, her significantly stronger hands delivering stroke after deliberate stroke until my wide hips and thick buttocks burned without mercy. When it was finally over, she had pulled my habit back up with surprising gentleness, bent down, and kissed my forehead. “Remember, child,” she had said quietly, her red hair framing her authoritative face, “obeying is not a choice here. I was kind tonight. Next time will not be so merciful.” Her piercing blue eyes had held mine until I nodded, trembling from head to toe.
The heavy wooden door of my cell closed behind me with a soft thud. I sat carefully on the edge of my simple pallet, wincing sharply as my sore, wide hips pressed against the thin mattress. I hugged a coarse pillow tightly to my chest, trying to steady my breathing and push away the lingering sting. The pressure of it against my full DD breasts and thin waist sent an unexpected jolt through my core. My garments felt strangely sticky and damp against my vagina. Confused and still sniffling softly, I lifted the habit and removed my undergarments completely. A clear, sticky fluid was leaking steadily from between my legs, coating my inner thighs and the folds of my most private place. It did not look or smell like pee. Shame burned hot across my olive cheeks—what was happening to my innocent body?
I hugged the pillow again, tighter this time, pressing it firmly between my thick thighs. The queer feeling returned immediately, stronger and more insistent, spreading a deep warmth from my sore buttocks up through my thin waist and into my core. It was irresistible, too overwhelming to think clearly or stop. My wide hips shifted instinctively. I ground against the rough fabric, the coarse material rubbing directly against my swollen, leaking folds. A soft “Mmm...” escaped my lips as the friction sent sparks racing through me.
The sensation built slowly but relentlessly. I rocked my hips in small circles, then longer strokes, the pillow growing slick beneath me with my fluids. “Ahh...” The queer feeling intensified, making my full breasts heave and my nipples harden against the loosened habit. I pressed down harder, riding the pillow with increasing urgency, my thick buttocks clenching and releasing as I moved. “Uhhhn...” The sound was low and drawn out, the pleasure deepening with every roll of my wide hips. Images from the punishment flooded my mind unbidden—Mother Isolde’s tall, commanding five-foot-eleven frame in her black habit, her strong hand tangled firmly in my chestnut hair, pressing my cheek to the table as the paddle struck again and again.