Chapter 96 One month with the Mafia boss: Day nine
2:13 a.m
Abandoned Convent of St. Agnes, outskirts of the city
The old stone church stands alone on a hill, swallowed by ivy and decades of silence.
Moonlight spills through broken stained-glass windows, painting the nave in fractured reds and blues.
Dust floats like ash in the cold air. The only sounds are Nyra’s bare feet on the flagstones and the soft clink of the chain attached to her collar.
Kazimir leads her down the center aisle on that chain, short, deliberate steps, like a dark bride walking to her own unholy wedding.
She is naked except for the platinum collar and sheer black lace veil that brushes her hips.
Her nipples are hard from the chill and from the way he’s been teasing her all night, slow licks in the car, fingers inside her but never enough to let her come.
The altar waits at the far end, ancient oak, scarred by time and neglect.
Tall black church candles flicker in iron candelabras, wax already dripping like blood.
A velvet cushion has been placed in the center.
Kazimir stops at the steps.
“Up,” he says.
Nyra climbs the three stone steps and kneels on the cushion, facing the ruined crucifix above.
The veil pools around her thighs. Cold air kisses her wet cunt.
He circles her slowly, shedding his black coat, rolling his sleeves.
In the candlelight his ink looks alive, saints weeping, demons laughing.
“Confess,” he murmurs, voice echoing off the vaulted stone. “Tell your sins to God while I take what’s mine.”
He produces a long beeswax candle, thick, blood-red and lights it from one of the candelabras. Wax pools instantly at the tip.
Nyra’s breath shakes. “I’ve been wicked,” she whispers to the empty crucifix. “I’ve let a devil fuck me every night. I’ve begged for it. I’ve come screaming his name instead of Yours.”
Kazimir tips the candle.
The first drop lands between her shoulder blades, scalding her.
She gasps, arches. Another drop on the curve of her spine. Another lower, tracing each vertebra until she’s trembling.
He works methodically, painting her back in crimson trails that harden into raised lines.
Every drop makes her cunt clench harder, makes more slick drip down her thighs onto the sacred velvet.
When her back is a canvas of wax, he moves to her front.
He lifts the veil, drapes it over her head like a mockery of modesty, then drips wax across her breasts, slowly circles around each nipple until they’re encased in red, then one direct hit on each peak that makes her cry out.
He sets the candle down, still burning, and pushes her forward until she’s on all fours on the altar, ass high, face pressed to the cushion.
The wax cracks with every movement.
From his pocket he pulls heavy silver rosary beads large and cold. He trails it down her spine, over the wax, between her cheeks.
“Count,” he orders.
The first bead presses against her asshole, no lube but her own dripping arousal.
He pushes it in slowly. Nyra moans, pushes back.
“One,” she gasps.
He works the entire string inside her, ten beads, each one a stretch, a burn, a filthy prayer until only the crucifix dangles against her clit.
“Ohhhh fuck…master, this is so good and don't stop” she cried out. She could feel herself on cloud nine.
Then he kneels behind her and eats her like communion, his tongue lapping at her cunt, tugging gently on the rosary so the beads shift inside her ass.
Her legs almost turned jelly as ecstacy covered her whole body.
She comes fast and hard, sobbing into the altar cloth, body shaking so violently that wax flakes off her skin.
“Fucking God, I'm coming. Ohhhh I could feel my pussy throbbing, don't stop let me come…fuck” she moaned out shamelessly.
He rises, frees his cock, and enters her in one brutal thrust. “So sweet,” he muttered as he entered.
The rosary sways with every slam of his hips, the crucifix slapping her clit rhythmically.
He fucks her across the altar, slow, deep strokes that drag over every nerve, then sudden savage pounding that rattles the candelabras.
Wax melts and re-hardens on her skin. Candlelight flickers over their joined bodies like hellfire.
He pulls the rosary out bead by bead while he fucks her, each pop making her clench around his cock until he’s growling.
When the last bead leaves her, he replaces it with two thick fingers in her ass, stretching her open while his cock reams her cunt.
Nyra comes again, screaming blasphemy into the empty church, squirting over his balls and the ancient wood.
Kazimir follows with a low, animal sound, spilling deep inside her, grinding through every pulse.
After, he blows out every candle but one. In the near-dark he gathers her into his arms, peels the cooled wax from her skin in long, gentle strips, kissing each red mark he reveals.
He carries her to the old confession booth in the side chapel, two narrow compartments separated by a carved lattice screen.
He sits her on his lap in the priest’s side, veil still over her hair, and slides into her again, slow, reverent, face-to-face.
They fuck like that for hours, whispered filth through the screen when he moves her to the penitent side, then back to his lap when she can’t stay quiet.
The single candle burns lower and lower.
When it finally gutters out, leaving them in total darkness, he holds her close and murmurs against her temple:
“Nine days of sin, malyshka. Twenty-one left to damn us both completely.”
“It will get more brutal, you can opt out if you can't handle it anymore.”
“If you want a break, you can tell me. It seems your body is getting tired”, he said with his deep voice almost making Nyra come.
“Just fuck me anyhow you want it…I want some cool cash and you fuck me good too” she smiled.
“You slut…you only know how to fuck for money right?”
Nyra’s answer is to clench around him, pull him deeper, and whisper the only prayer she knows anymore:
“More.”
Outside, dawn creeps through the broken windows, turning the ruined altar rose-gold.
Inside, the devil keeps his saint.