Meet the Monsignor

The Monsignor looked up from his paperwork and took a moment to assess me. He was a slight man with a sharp nose and piercing eyes. He was dressed in black vestments with a white collar, which stood out starkly against his tanned skin. He had a look that suggested he'd seen everything and was unimpressed by most of it. He looked me up and down, then turned to the blonde. "What is this?" he asked, his voice carrying the authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed.

Sister Angela, as I learned she was called, immediately fell to her knees beside the desk but spoke with surprising confidence. "This man entered the chapel and tried to claim me. I believe he may be useful to you."

The Monsignor's eyes narrowed slightly, but the flicker of a smile played on his lips. "Ah, so you have the instincts of a shepherd," he said, his voice filled with approval. "The Lord does indeed look upon you with favor."

Sister Angela's cheeks flushed at the praise, and her eyes gleamed with something akin to desire as they met mine. Without warning, her body began to convulse as if hit by an invisible ****. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and a soft, guttural moan escaped her lips. Her knees pressed harder into the cold tile floor, and her hands gripped the edge of the Monsignor's desk. It took a moment for me to realize she was having an orgasm, not from physical contact but from the power of his words. Her whole being seemed to pulse with the ecstasy of his approval. It was a sight both erotic and unsettling.

When she had regained her composure, the Monsignor turned his sharp gaze to me.