Unlocking My Private Locker: Seducing the Monk to Save Us All
I’ve kept this locked in my private vault for years. That night in the auberge’s dim back room, October 20, 2036, I cracked it open. Heart pounding like a drum. The conspirators—Yvane, Melisse, Gael, L-O, Uncle Armand—huddled in my cramped bedroom. Briefing tight. ‘Go now,’ L-O whispered over the phone. Frère Habib’s routine: prayers, then porn at midnight. His weakness. My bait.
Adrenaline surged. Skin prickled. I slipped into the oversized nightshirt they gave me. Sleeveless, three sizes too big. Gaping at the chest. No bra. Nipples hardened in the cool air—Yvane’s fingers tweaking them just right. Culotte blanche, cotton simple. Legs bare. I felt exposed already. Vulnerable. Powerful. Knocked on his door. ‘It’s Brigide, mon frère. I need you.’ Voice trembling for real.
Opening the Floodgates
He opened. Eyes porcine, sweaty brow. Djellaba hiding his gut. I threw myself at his feet. Arms around his thick legs. Nightshirt rode up. Small tits pressed against his thighs. Face inches from his crotch. Felt his cock twitch under the fabric. Recoil. Pulled me up. Hand clammy. Led me to the bed. Sat close. Too close. Thigh against thigh.
‘Tell me your nightmare,’ he purred. Hand on mine. Guided it to his inner thigh. Heat radiating. I played innocent. ‘I was naked. Hot between my legs. River flowing.’ Heart racing for show. Real too. His fingers crept. Placed my palm near his hardening bulge. ‘Feel your heart,’ I said. Pulled his hand to my chest. He groped over fabric. Then under. Palm rough on my small breast. Thumb circling nipple. Hard pebble now. ‘Tell more,’ he breathed.
‘Devil with forked tail. Slid it between my thighs. Into my… sex.’ Sobbed. He hugged me. Belly squishing my torso. Hand kneading tit. ‘Purification ritual.’ Stood. ‘Lift your shirt.’ Hesitated. Legs first. Slim, boyish. Stopped at thighs. ‘Higher.’ Culotte exposed. ‘Remove it.’ Eyes shut. Slid down slow. Folded neat. Placed aside. Knees clamped. Hiding my bushy slit.
Sealing the Secret Shut
‘Open.’ Legs parted. Cool air on lips. Pink, slightly parted. His gaze devoured. ‘Divine.’ Knelt between. Hands gripped thighs. Spread me wide. Fingers slimy. Pried labia. Dry at first. ‘What—’ ‘Purify you, slut.’ Mouth dove in. Tongue wet, insistent. Lapped clit. Sucked lips. I froze. Plan screaming. His breath hot. Stubble scraping inner thighs. Cock tenting nightshirt. Small, mushroom head straining.
Panic hit. His hands pinned mine. Tongue probing deeper. Sloppy. Invasive. Body betrayed—wetness seeping. But no. ‘AU SECOURS! HE’S RAPING ME!’ Screamed. He lunged to gag. Door burst. Gael yanked him off. Slammed wall. I flew into Gael’s arms. Sobs real. Then whispered, lips on his neck, ‘We got him.’ Laughter bubbled. His arms strong. First real thrill beyond the act.
They dragged Habib away. L-O and Armand rough. Evidence locked: his porn vids of young girls, tonight’s footage. Neutralized. Village safe. My secret sealed back. Lightness washed over. Body hummed. Nipples still peaked. Cunt slick. Not from him—from power. Control. The rush of sharing now, years later, floods back. Adrenaline pure. No regrets. Just satisfaction. Vault clicks shut. Lighter. Free.
