Lucre

With his sticky seed dribbling down your cheek and splattered on your wimple you see a set of folded notes drop through the hole into your little den of iniquity.

"More than I'm sure you're normally paid for a quick blowjob but you're good, and that edging thing you did at the end was blissful ****."

You pick up the notes. There are several twenties but you don't want to count it out, you already know its more than you've collected some days of fundraising for twelve hours and you've just collected it in perhaps twelve minutes. More than that though you know you've just been paid for sexual activity. You are now a whore. You were raised by the convent since you were eight and it is the only life you know or can remember, the only thing you can ever remember wanting to be was a Sister but slumped on the floor with the ejaculate of two man on your face you feel as if you must have failed somehow.

You hear the man leave and pray for guidance. What would your Lord have of you? Is this what he wants of you?