(Old draft, outdated by now)

Claires first poetry answer:

Your heart’s desire is clear and true,

In every line, your regrets come through.

Yet in the night where our fates align,

I answer your plea with a definite NEIN

…

Hunters answer:

…

Claire answer:

In the quiet shadows, where penance is sought,

I felt your remorse, in actions you brought.

Your lewd touch and tongue, both vivid and bold,

Wove a tale of regret in the night’s quiet fold.

Through your fervent pleas and the dark, hidden play,

I sensed the depth of your remorseful sway

….

Hunter:

In the quiet of the ruins, where shadows lie,

A hunter pens a note with a gentle sigh.

His hand, though eager, writes with care,

A request wrapped in words laid bare.

Dearest Lady, in the wall so tight,

I’ve watched you there, a tempting sight.

With reverence deep, I come to plea,

A humble request from me to thee.

Your curves have called me, silent and clear,

In dreams, your form is ever near.

May I, with respect and tender grace,

Explore your depths, in this hidden place?

I ask not to ****, nor to intrude,

But with a heart sincere and mood subdued.

If it pleases you to grant this quest,

In shadows' embrace, may I find my rest?

In writing this, my hope is pure,

To share a moment that we may endure.

With your consent, my desire aligned,

I await your answer, gentle and kind

Claire:

I cannot yield what’s held so dear,

Yet in this space where we draw near,

If you wish, in the place you’ve kissed,

I may permit a touch of this.

With bashful heart and cheeks aglow,

I offer this as a place to go.

In shadows deep where secrets hide,

Let’s fulfill our needs with no more pride.

With a blush and a sigh, this I concede,

A different pleasure, a different need.

In the ruins where secrets reside,

Our bodies may meet, where shadows hide.

A request so daring, in shadows steep,

To take me where you’ve ventured deep,

In the very place your lips explored,

An act I’ll permit, though my heart’s implored.

So here’s my answer, though it’s slight,

I can’t give all, but I’ll indulge tonight,

In the realms where you’ve softly licked,

I’ll yield to you, in passion’s pick

Narrator:

The nun, in chains of stone’s design,

Faced darkness with a choice divine.

Her spirit fought, yet could not flee,

So she gave more than one could see.

Her sacred oath, her heart’s true plea,

To keep her vow, she bent the knee.

The hunter came, with hunger bright,

Each darkened eve, their secret rite.

She trembled there, her faith undone,

Her body yielded, the night begun.

Yet still she clung to vows so tight,

Though wronged in ways that turned to night.

A final act, in shadow’s thrall,

She chose to break, but not her all.

Her other veil, in darkness deep,

A sacrifice, her heart to keep.

For in that act, though deeply pained,

Her vow remained, though harshly strained.

She offered all in hope of grace,

A twisted dance in hidden place.

In silent night, the wall bore witness,

To rituals of forbidden fitness.

Her sacred vow, though sorely tried,

Met sacrifice where passion’s tied.

(Giving herself to the hunter instead of some monster or Bastard had been the choice she made before departure.)

I can’t say what had overcome me to make that decision that night but as I reread his poetry before leaving a sense or longing come over me.

Atleast he was an honest pervert and asked for consent.

I could still remember that night vividly as he clearly had alot of pent up passion to relieve and he did so repeatedly and intensely.

I had a slightly awkward gait for the next two days as my ass felt thourally sore.

Definitely never going to fuck a poet ever again, a skilled tongue was treacherous after all.

I had worn those slutty panties during the last night and left them behind for him.

I still can’t believe I let him fuck my ass.