She's playing with herself

Even the dim light of the bedroom I can see Alison's body rocking slowly on the bed. She is naked and beautiful with her hand working away at the cleft between her legs. In spite of the fact that my young tenant is clearly awake, she doesn't seem to have noticed my arrival as her eyes are closed and the pace of her gentle movement doesn't change. She appears to be in the midst of an erotic fantasy as she strokes herself, and her lips are mouthing soft pleas as she works away at her clit.

“... Please ... I don't know what you want … I've never been with a man … ” I sounds at first like she is reliving that fateful night with Dick, but as she goes on I realize it's a different scenario. “No I can't … I can't … Oh please, not with a pagan like you… it's too big … too big for my virgin body ...” Her legs squeeze together the young woman rocks back and forth on her bed as her fingers work more and more frantically between her thighs, but just as you think she is going to cum her body stiffens and with a whimper of frustration her hand grips the sheets in a fistful of cotton.

Alison's eyes slowly open and she lets out a startled shriek of surprise at finding a bare-chested man standing in her bedroom.

“It's OK, Angel, I thought I heard you cry out.” I lie as I move slowly into her bedroom, “were you having a nightmare?”

“Mr. P!” Alison reaches for a sheet to cover herself, “You can't be in here!”

“It's OK, Honey.” I assure her as I sit on the bed and gently brush her sweaty forehead with my palm. “You feel warm, do you have a fever?”

“No Mr. P, I'm fine, really.” She gasps as my hand moves from her brow to cup her cheek and ear. The caress might be the touch of a person caring for a patient, but it wasn't and neither of us thought for a second that it was. Especially when I brushed the corner of her mouth with the calloused ball of my thumb.

“Tell me about your dream, Alison.” My voice is low, but there is a strength to it that I learned from years of teaching.

“I can't.” Alison gasps softly, “It's too embarrassing.”

“You can tell me.” I whisper, “You can tell me every nasty detail.” My fingers tighten just a little in her hair and I tilt her head back so it is in the same position it was when I first came in the room. “You were a maiden?” I prompt her.

“Yes, I was one of the hundreds of virgins who traveled with Ursula on her pilgrimage, when they were taken by the Huns.”

“That sounds terrifying, were you very young?” I ask carefully, although it is hard to be patient when I know she is naked and horny under the sheets.

“Yes, young and pure, sworn to chastity like the princess I was accompanying.” Her eyes open slightly and she asks me if I was familiar with the story of St. Ursula.

“No Angel,” Adventist are not big on saints, “but I'm assuming it doesn't end well for her and her companions.”

“The church histories tell that Ursula became a saint when she was martyred by the pagan leader of the Huns, and all her attendants who refused to submit were slaughtered with her.” Her breathing quickens and I see her eyes half-close again. “But I don't think those marauding barbarians would waste that kind of opportunity, do you?”

“It doesn't sound likely, does it?” I press even closer to Alison as she lies covered only by the thin sheet. “What do you think happened to all those beautiful young maidens?”

“They'd be given to the warriors who conquered the city as prizes to deflower.” I see Alison's legs close tightly together. “Even as a sheltered high school student, I knew that's what would happen, I'd lie in bed at night imagining what it would be like for a girl my age to be given to a Hun war leader two or three times older to use for his perverse pleasures.”

“And you never told anyone about this until now?” I ask, more than a little surprised by how deep this naïve young woman's submissive nature went. Even after how she described her relationship with Dick I didn't quite understand, but I now am beginning to see that from her first sexual awakening this tormented preacher's daughter has been excited by fantasies of control and domination. My fingers trail slowly down over the damp skin under her hair and wrap gently around her neck to feel the pulse of her blood as it rushes through her veins.

“Who could I tell?” she asks, placing one small hand on mine encircling her throat arching her back slightly to lift small hills in the sheet with her firm tits. “My mother? The Sisters at St. T's?” Her eyes meet mine with sudden intensity as she squeezes my fingers so they dig into her flesh. “I learned early on that I'm a sinner and a whore; it's no wonder that God is punishing me like this.”