The Clown and the Nun

The clown smiled, the movement cracking the dead white paint around his wide, red mouth. Blue eyes twinkled wickedly as he looked upon the sight before him.

Kneeling on the bare, dirty concrete was a postulant nun, hair covered in a veil, skirt rucked up around her thighs, generous breasts straining at the plain blouse and cardigan she wore. The moon, shining through broken, stained windows high above, showed a pale, tear-streaked face, and shone on trembling hands clutching a rosary.

He took two steps forward, bringing himself from the shadows into the light, and her personal space. She gasped, then recoiled as she took him in. He knew his makeup (wide, humourless red grin, pale, pale skin and blackened eyes) sparked fear in most people, but she seemed to shrink in on herself as he watched. He dropped into a crouch, one hand resting on his barbed-wire-wrapped baseball bat, and reached out to touch her damp cheek.

Recoiling, she closed her eyes, and began to whisper The Rosary. "Hail Mary, full of grace, The Lord is with thee..."

He gave a dark chuckle. "That's not going to work on me, darling. Why don't you open your eyes and talk to me?"

"Demon!" she cried.

"Oh no, I'm all man," he replied. "Shall I show you?"

Eyes wide with alarm, she shuffled back on her knees. He stood, casting his shadow across her. "How about you lose the veil, sweetheart?"

"Do I have a choice?" She asked.

"You always have a choice,"

She thought for a moment, then released the rosary and raised her hands to the veil. She pulled it off and crumpled it in her lap, looking down modestly.

He was surprised to see grey in her short hair; she didn't look old enough! He watched her bosom rise as she drew in a shuddering breath, then came to a quick decision. He held his hand towards her. "Stand up,"

She raised her chin and grasped his hand and stood. She was almost as tall as he was, and her wide eyes met his questioningly.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

"I haven't decided yet. Let's start with your name."

"I gave up my name when I joined The Order," she said. "Call me what you like."

He grinned. "How about...Pet?"

She looked at him with confusion. "Pet?"

"Yes...Pet."

He pulled her closer. Her breasts brushed against his tattered motley, and he dropped his free hand to her wide hips. "Chin up, Pet," he told her, and when she obeyed, he kissed her. She was stiff with fright, but as his lips moved on hers, she began to soften beneath him.

He pulled back, observing the red smears around her mouth. It pleased him to see his mark on her, and he considered other, darker ways he could mark her up. He lifted a hand to her chin and tugged it gently. "Open up," he said. "Do I need to give you instructions all the time?"

For the first time, an expression other than fear crossed her face. "I haven't always been in The Order," she snapped. "I do know how to kiss!"

"Well, kiss me, then!" he answered, and took her mouth again. This time, she kissed him back, and when he slid his tongue into her mouth, she opened for him. He licked her tongue, and she shuddered once more, but he was certain it was with desire, rather than continued fear.

This time when he pulled back, her gaze was clouded and her lips swollen. She looked at him, waiting.

"Lose the clothes, Pet," he said.

She raised her hands to her cardigan, unfastening the four buttons before shrugging it off. It fell to the filthy floor. She paused.

"Now the blouse,"

This took longer, as the buttons were small and fiddly. When the blouse hung open, he looked at her. Her breasts were encased in an old-fashioned, full-coverage bra, the almost armour-plated kind. It was, oddly, incredibly arousing, and he felt himself growing hard beneath his motley. She shook the blouse off, making her breasts jiggle in their confines. Her hands moved behind her to the fastening of the skirt without him needing to tell her.

When it slid to the floor, it was his turn to draw in a breath.

She stood before him in sensible shoes and underwear, but covering her legs were torn tights. Something about the ladders and holes in the fragile fabric made his brain whirl with dark desire.

She reached up to the row of hooks fastening her bra at the front, but he held up a staying hand.

"Stop. I want to do this."

Obediently, she dropped her hands, and he dropped his bat on the floor. He reached out to her, and slid a finger behind the placket of her bra. Her flesh was warm and damp, and he could detect the scent of her. As she wore no perfume, it was clean musk with a slight overlay of fading fear. With his other hand, her slowly slid the first hook free, and her breathing picked up. He released the second, third and fourth. The final hook almost groaned with the strain of containing her large breasts by itself, and, looking into her eyes, he undid it.

She moaned quietly.

Looking down, he peeled the cups of her bra apart and whistled. Her breasts hung, heavy and full, with taut, erect nipples. She was turned on. "Oh, Pet..." he said.

She brought her hands up, as if to cover herself, and he slapped them away. "None of that, I want to look at you!" She dropped them again, and stood quietly.

He reached forward, and ran a single finger around her left nipple. It tightened further, and he stroked the crinkled skin with a smile. She shuddered. He pinched the nipple, hard. "Oh!" she gasped.

He was fully hard by now, his cock full and wanting. He brought his other hand up, and matched the actions of the first. Her eyes closed and she leaned into his grasp. Ducking down, he sucked a nipple into his mouth and tongued it, revelling in her unconscious response to him. He switched sides, sucking her nipples to tightly furled points, then stopped to admire his handiwork. Her nipples stood, red and proud and wet.

Her hands still hung beside her, curled into tight fists, so he reached out and brought them to his chest. "Touch me," he said, pulling back and standing straight.

She looked into his eyes as she outlined his shoulders with her hands. Shaking slightly, she ran them down his arms, then in, towards his stomach. He returned to teasing her breasts.

"I don't understand," she said quietly. "I should by rights be terrified, fighting you tooth and nail, but all I want is for you to keep touching me!"

"I like that plan," he said. "Take your shoes off."

She toed them off, holding his forearms for balance.

"Now. Kneel."

Still holding his forearms, she slid to her knees and looked up at him expectantly.

"Do you know how to suck cock as well as you kiss, Pet?" he asked. She nodded. He silently cheered, shoved his tattered, bi-coloured trousers down his thighs, and pulled his top up. His cock reared up, already ruddy and weeping. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. He palmed himself. "Suck me,"

She shuffled closer, the faint sound of shredding nylon in the air. Stretching her neck, she extended her tongue and licked a broad stripe up his hot length. He hummed his approval. She swirled her tongue around his tip, then stuck it into his slit. Pleasure trickled down his spine, and he thrust slightly. Opening her mouth, she engulfed his tip, slid her mouth down until her nose was pressed against his groin, then swallowed.

He swallowed a curse. "What kind of nun are you?!"

She pulled off with a pop and smiled slyly up at him. "The kind who knows how to blow clowns?"

"For fuck's sake, Pet, don't stop!" he said, and she sucked him down again. She gagged and drooled as he hit the back of her throat, and she backed off to spit on him. She brought her hands up, one curled around his shaft, the other cradling his balls. Moving them in tandem, she sucked his tip again, the hot suction of her mouth a mind-blowing torment. For endless, delirious minutes she continued, until he felt his orgasm building and pulled her off.

"Stop...stop..." He reached down and pulled her up again, mashing his mouth onto hers, tasting his own flavour in her mouth. She returned his kiss with passion this time, pressing herself against him. The feel of her pantyhose against his hardness made his mind blank with pleasure. Pulling back, he spun her around, then plastered himself against her back, biting her where her neck curved into her shoulder.

She made an inhuman noise and pressed her ample backside onto his cock. "Do that again, please..."

He gladly complied, this time also kneading her breasts. She shook all over, little cries spilling from her lips. He ran a hand down her torso, over her tights, and between her legs: her wetness was obvious and abundant, even through her knickers. He cupped his hand and pressed in and up, the heel of his hand rubbing her swollen clit, and she unravelled in his arms, crying loudly.

Once she calmed, he took his hand from her breast to her throat and squeezed gently, feeling her breath against his palm. "Bend over, Pet," he told her.

She obeyed with arousing speed, folding at the waist, palms on her shins. This had the happy effect of shoving her bum further into him, and he ground against her briefly before stepping back, and looking down.

Her knickers were soaked, her thighs wet with arousal.

Suddenly, he felt feral. He kicked her legs apart, reaching between them to tear a hole in the crotch of her tights, before pulling her wet knickers to the side. He took his cock in hand and shoved roughly, fully, into the welcoming clasp of her pussy. They both cried out, and as he hilted himself she pushed back. His groin came up against her buttocks, the soft flesh welcoming him. He pulled back with a little more control, and pushed in once more.

"Oh, God," she whimpered. " Please, I need more! Fuck me!"

Happily, he obliged, sawing in and out of her pussy with manic glee. Watching her unravel, listening to her screams and pleas, turned him on like nothing before. Again, he felt his orgasm building, and again he held himself back. He pulled out, and shoved three fingers into her, curling them and pumping roughly. She came with a cry and a gush, soaking his hand.

He stroked a hand down her back, gentling and calming her as she came off the high. He noted with satisfaction that her back and neck were also marked with streaks of his face paint. She folded to her knees, and crumpled forward, panting. He crouched behind her.

After a long, quiet while, she straightened up, and he came to his feet, walking around to her front. He was still hard, his poor, aching cock weeping copious pre-cum, and he stroked himself as she looked up at him.

"I'm going to cum on you, Pet," he told her. "Where do you want it?"

She settled back on her heels, and spread her knees, then stunned him by offering her breasts up to him. "On my tits," she said. "Please."

He looked down at her face, streaked with passion, her earlier tears, and his facepaint. At her wide, full mouth, and then down at her plumply presented breasts. His grip on his cock tightened, his movements sped up, and he felt his crisis barreling down on him. This time, he let it, and it sparked down his spine, into his balls, boiling into his cock, and he erupted, cum spurting from his tip and painting her with creamy white ropes. Spunk slid down her tits, and pooled in her cleavage, and he shook with the force of his orgasm.

She still knelt there, eyes bright even as she dripped with cum, holding position and waiting for his direction.

When the ability to think returned to him, he pulled his trousers up, covering his sensitive cock, and dropped to his knees in front of her. He took her mouth in a deep, gentle kiss, which she returned. When he pulled back, he gazed into her eyes. She smiled.

"Next time, can we play Princess and Black Knight?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "I don't know how easy it'd be to get a blow job in a suit of armour!"