A Dress Code Warning

Exiting the chapel, Syncletia wobbled her way down the plain halls of the convent, her asscheeks undulating around the crucifix plugging her asshole, each roll of bronzed flesh sending her short PVC leather skirt swishing, the spikes of her platform heels leaving a sticky trail of small cum-pools in her wake with each long stride. The sinful sister's puffy jizz-frosted lips pulled upwards into a quietly reverential — or lustily prideful, depending on how one gauged the gleam in her cerulean eyes — smile as she made her way towards the convent library, the slowly cooling ejaculate cascading down her cleavage and plastered across her body evidence of her prodigious morning worshipfulness. Her tongue darted out to slurp up another strand of gelatinous spunk bestowed upon her by Father Lucius and the brothers as she strode in the direction of the library.

"Sister Syncletia." A cold voice rang out in the quiet halls from behind, waylaying her in her tracks. The statuesque nun pivoted reflexively on a heel to face the voice. "Sister Superior Yvette", Syncletia acknowledged softly, tilting her chin downward in a respectful nod. Before her stood one of the convent's three seniormost overseers, ranked just below the Mother Prioress and the church's attached priesthood. Sister Superior Yvette was another post-Christfall bombshell, like the rest of the order's members, though she stood roughly a head shorter than Syncletia even in platform heels, and lacked some of her powerful muscle tone. A leather-strapped harness criss-crossed her torso, framing a massive pair of boobs that thrust out before her by nearly a foot; heavy-gauge black metal rings pierced each broad brown saucer-sized aureolae, the weights stretching insistently at her thumb-thick nipples. The older nun's high Asiatic cheekbones were partially masked by the frame of her wimple, whose leather completely encased the sides and back of her head, with only a short forelock of glossy black bangs emerging from beneath, the upper straps of her torso harness buckling into the bottom collar of the wimple, framing the cavernous canyon of her cleavage. A narrow black thong emblazoned with a white cross barely covered Yvette's plump cuntlips and swollen mound, while gothic tattoos curled around her swollen brown buttocks. Black leather sleeves encased the entirety of her arms up to the shoulder blade, each sleeve again buckled into her torso harness and studded at the shoulders with large iron D-rings; matching anchors clanked at the ankles of her high-heeled boots with each stride as she approached. At her side, Sister Superior Yvette's ever-present wrist-thick disciplinary rod switched restlessly in a white-gloved hand.

Her other hand shot out to grasp a tight handful of Syncletia's cum-clotted blonde upcut; despite their difference in heights, Sister Superior Yvette had no hesitation in administering to any of her charges. "You've misplaced your wimple, my chit." As she spoke her other hand tipped at the wrist, bringing the cold studded end of her disciplinary rod up to smack lightly to rest between Syncletia's recently-fucked bare cuntlips. "Your forgiveness, Sister Superior," the bimbo nun gasped softly, "Father Lucius and some of the brethren fucked it loose during my morning confession and I was too cum-drunk to think to recover it afterwards."

Sister Superior Yvette's firm hand released Syncletia's hair and slid down to cup the arc of her jawline, thumb probing her pouting lips, which automatically parted to suck wetly on the cool leather-clad digit. The older nun's darkly eye-shadowed gaze surveyed the drying streams of spunk dripping down Syncletia's throat and plastered across her mega-bimbofied body. "Your congregational spirit is beyond reproach as always, sister. But you must uphold your vows of immodesty." The thick studs at the end of her disciplinary rod rubbed slowly against the partially parted folds of Syncletia's glistening slit as Yvette rolled the instrument carefully in her opposite hand.