Read Online Our Daily Bred (paranormal breeding sex) by Scarlett Skyes - Free Book Online Page A

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