Read Our Daily Bred (paranormal breeding sex) Online

Authors: Scarlett Skyes

Tags: #girl, #god, #school, #paranormal, #supernatural, #priest, #catholic, #swimming, #breeding, #conception, #schoolgirl, #restraint, #impregnation, #bred, #immaculate

Our Daily Bred (paranormal breeding sex)

BOOK: Our Daily Bred (paranormal breeding sex)
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Our Daily Bred

Scarlett Skyes

 

Published by Scarlett Skyes at
Smashwords

 

Copyright 2012 Scarlett Skyes

 

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Author's note: All characters depicted
in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Learning how to be a nun was
nothing like I expected it to be. Everything had happened in a blur
ever since Father Hanson and his small group of nuns had toured
several Catholic schools in my area on a recruitment drive earlier
in the year. I’ll never forget the day they came to our school and
set up a desk in a spare office for girls to sign up to their
preparatory course for nuns.

Their visit was announced in the
middle of lots of other notices first thing in the morning. Most of
the other girls didn’t seem to pay any attention to our teacher at
all but I knew I’d be going to that office and signing up at the
first opportunity. I was raised in a strictly religious home and
I’d only ever dreamed of doing two things with my life. My secret
ambition, the one my parents wouldn’t approve of, was to swim
competitively. I was good at it, some of my friends had even
remarked that I seemed to spend as much time in the water as I did
on dry land. My other dream was to become a nun and do anything the
Lord wished of me.

Despite my enthusiasm I almost
missed them completely, I had a really busy day and it was only
during my swim that I realised they would be leaving soon. I cut my
swim short and raced through getting changed. In my haste I dropped
my bra in a big puddle of water in the changing room and was faced
with a dilemma. No bra, or wet bra? Before panic set in I decided
to go with no bra as the material of our shirts was reasonably
thick, but would probably be see-through if wet. The day was almost
over anyway so if I was careful after visiting Father Hanson nobody
would notice.

I ran through the hallways of
our school, praying that they hadn’t left yet. Having no bra on
meant my larger than average breasts bounced and swayed with every
step. Looking over my shoulder and from side to side as I ran I saw
nobody and so supported my chest with my hands, I remember being
surprised at just how difficult it was to run at pace without a bra
on.

Coming around a corner at speed
I ran directly into Mr. Murdax, my math teacher. I bounced off him
and fell to the ground, sliding across the polished floor. I
noticed his eyes dip down between my legs as my skirt flew up and
my legs parted in my vain attempts to regain some semblance of
balance. I thanked God that it had been my bra and not my panties
that had fallen in the puddle back in the changing rooms.

I quickly closed my legs and
regained my feet.

“Just what do you think you’re
doing, Miss. Callaghan?” he asked, his voice betraying the fact
that he was still getting over the shock of being careered into and
the view of my pristine white panties between my toned legs.

“Sorry Mr. Murdax, I just
realised I was running out of time to speak with Father Hanson
before he leaves.”

Mr. Murdax gave a mysteriously
knowing smile and let me go without any further delay or
punishment. It was quite confusing, both I and several other girls
had received detentions from him for much less than that but I
wasn’t about to question his uncharacteristic leniency. I thanked
him and continued as fast as I could without having to resort to
giving myself a hand-bra again.

At last I was outside the
office, which had a piece of paper stuck to it confirming I had the
right room. I took a moment to catch my breath and smooth down my
skirt, I wanted to make sure I gave the right impression when they
met me. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting from Father
Hanson but I had certainly been anticipating an old priest. Don’t
get me wrong, he was old like about thirty, but I’d definitely
thought he would be really old like Mr. Murdax, in his fifties or
something.

I answered all their questions
to the best of my ability, though I must admit I was somewhat
distracted by Father Hanson’s warm smile, which made him look even
younger than he was. He was one of the most handsome men I’d ever
seen, I wasn’t sure whether I was seeing him through rose coloured
glasses because of him being a man of God, that’s just how I
felt.

It was only when I left the room
and looked down at myself that I noticed not one but two buttons of
my shirt were undone. I flushed a deep red, wondering if they’d
come undone during my collision with Mr. Murdax, or if I hadn’t
done them up properly when I was rushing to get dressed in the
first place. Either way I was absolutely devastated, no doubt they
were going to report me to the principal and then it was only a
matter of time until they contacted my parents. I was almost ready
to die of shame as I hurriedly fastened the buttons and walked to
my last class of the day.

I had been planning on telling
my parents about Father Hanson and the preparatory course that very
night but as I was convinced I’d accidentally flashed him and the
two nuns present I didn’t say anything for several weeks. I was
expecting the sword of Damocles to drop at any moment, even though
I prayed for forgiveness, so it was a nice surprise to receive a
letter of acceptance and some forms to fill out in the mail near
the end of the school year. I guessed that my shirt must not have
gaped open noticeably, or they were all so holy and pure that they
only looked at my face. Thank God!

So that’s how I found myself in
Father Hanson’s preparatory course for nuns, an intensive two years
of living away from home at a special boarding school learning
everything needed to commit yourself to the Lord forever. Much of
it was exactly as you would imagine, lots of bible study, lots of
lessons about the problems nuns had come up against in the past and
the best way of tackling these problems within the faith, things
like that.

Every Sunday we all listened
with rapt attention to Father Hanson’s amazing sermons. I’d never
heard any other priest explain things so well and so movingly, I
often found myself carried away by the power of his words and
sometimes missed the cues to kneel or respond. Though none of my
fellow hopeful-nuns noticed, I knew God would and prayed for his
forgiveness.

All that was pretty normal but
what wasn’t normal was the school itself. My old school was a
peasant’s hovel compared to this. It had everything including, to
my joy, a full sized swimming pool, saunas, health spas and plenty
of things to do for entertainment. I really thought things would be
somewhat more Spartan given that there were no fees for the course
and the life of a nun isn’t often associated with luxury and
abundance but neither I nor anybody else seemed to openly question
it, so I got used to it after a while.

Another thing that wasn’t normal
was the small community that seemed to be attached to the school.
Obviously boarding schools have staff for cooking, cleaning,
keeping the grounds and so on but there were a huge number of young
kids on the expansive property. I’m not entirely sure where they
all slept but they didn’t seem to keep to any school schedule. When
they weren’t standing straight and still listening to something
Father Hanson was telling them they were running around almost
wild.

It was a really strange sight
when Father Hanson was addressing a group of them. They stood in
rows silently watching and listening. It reminded me almost of a
military formation. I very rarely overheard anything he told them
but he always seemed to end any of his speeches with ‘Our time is
at hand, my children’ or some similar variation. I’d never seen
such concentration from kids like that before but I rationalised it
by comparing my own responses to his sermons, he was a master
orator and I supposed it was only natural that people younger than
me would pick up on that too.

Perhaps the strangest of all
were the daily inspections that Father Hanson personally conducted
on, as far as I could tell, every single girl in the course. Each
morning, as soon as we were showered, dressed and had eaten, we
were to line up in our huge dorm rooms at the foot of our beds and
stand up straight as he walked through and looked at each of us
carefully. Every time he walked past and looked into my eyes I felt
like he was staring straight into my soul but he never said
anything to me.

Every inspection he would choose
somewhere between two and five girls for some kind of private
meeting. They would never speak about those meetings afterwards but
they always looked kind of preoccupied and after a few weeks almost
all of them would drop out of the course, even girls I knew were
doing really well and had wanted to be nuns with all their hearts.
Our numbers never dwindled though as almost every girl that dropped
out seemed to be replaced, some by girls that were apparently
returning to the course after some kind of leave of absence, some
by girls that were coming to the course for the first time.

Because of the dropouts that
occurred after the meetings I guessed that he only chose those
girls who he thought were not cut out to be nuns and had a serious
talk with them. He was such a perceptive man of God that I
convinced myself he was even able to see the doubt in those girls I
thought wanted to be nuns so bad, which is why they ended up
leaving. I was so sure of my path in life that I didn’t think he
would ever choose me during one of his inspections, so it came as a
huge shock when he did.

I stared straight ahead as usual
while I stood at the foot of my bed listening to his heavy
footsteps echoing in the dorm room, pausing by each girl before
moving on. Once again, as he had been countless times before, he
halted in front of me and stared into my soul but this time he said
my name.

“Tania Callaghan.”

I had no choice but to join the
two girls and the two nuns already following him on this particular
inspection, pausing by each of the other girls until at last he was
finished, without selecting anybody else. Wordlessly we all
followed Father Hanson to the small waiting room outside his
office. We three girls were told to wait there until we were called
in, the nuns followed Father Hanson.

I sat there panicking as I
waited, wondering what could be said in these meetings that caused
every single girl to drop out of the course. I was crestfallen, I
wanted to be a nun so much and also there was the shame of telling
my parents how I couldn’t make it. I was almost in tears and so
lost in my own thoughts that the nun had to call my name several
times before I realised I was being spoken to. With a last glance
at the other two girls, who looked as anxious as I felt, I stood
and walked through the door to Father Hanson’s office.

Father Hanson was sitting behind
his desk and when he saw me he favoured me with one of his warm
smiles, immediately helping to put my nerves at ease.

“Ah, Tania, I’ve been looking
forward to meeting with you.” he said.

“Er... you have?” I replied,
somewhat confused.

“Yes, of course. You sound
surprised by that.”

“Well... it’s just that I
thought you only met with girls who weren’t cut out to be nuns,
they always seem to drop out after you meet with them.”

“I see, and you think you’ve got
what it takes to follow the path of God no matter where it may
lead?”

“Yes, Father, I love God!” I
blurted out, then blushed, realising how corny I sounded.

Father Hanson leaned back in his
chair, tented his fingers together and studied me quietly. I felt
even more blood rush to my face as my blush deepened. Finally he
spoke again.

“You know, Tania, I’m not so
sure your heart is really in it. I’m told you spend several hours
every day in the swimming pool, training hard as if you wanted your
life to go somewhere else, as if you were, quite literally,
swimming away from life as a nun.”

“No! That’s not it at all! I...
I’ll quit swimming and concentrate more on my studies, I promise!”
I felt my panic returning in full force, I was sure he was going to
ask me to leave and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes
already.

Father Hanson stood and slowly
walked around the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he
made a bit of a show out of inspecting the books on his bookshelf
and the pictures on his wall. I was staring down at my lap, only
seeing him out of the corner of my eyes until he was behind me.

BOOK: Our Daily Bred (paranormal breeding sex)
12.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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