The salon buzzes near the faculty. Saturday pay day rush. Scissors flash. I wield them like weapons. Modern woman. Strong. Independent. Cutting hair, teasing clients. Philippe slumps in the chair. Lumberjack. Flannel shirt. Three-month beard. Eyes devour my cleavage. Fiery red hair. Green-blue eyes. Dream thighs. Killer tits defying gravity. I lean close. Perfume hits him. Flesh brushes. He hardens. Always. But I shut him down. ‘Behave yourself!’ My line. Every time. He leaves horny. Jerks off to me. Pathetic. But today? Game changes.
Brigitte? That’s me. Fake sick. Angine lie. Claire quit. Salon empties. He’s last. Alone with me. The boss coiffeuse. We banter. Nun bursts in. Sœur Amélie. Young. Hot. Wasted in habit. Begs for Vatican cash. I laugh inside. Philippe crude. ‘How much for a blowjob?’ She flees. Outraged. Perfect setup. I whisper plan. ‘She’s naive. Prays nightly chapel. Rent bishop robes. Trick her. Fornicate hygienic. Confess free.’ He bites. Hard. Hope gleams. Idiot.
Dropping the Mask
Night pulses. City hums distant. Chapel looms. Candles flicker. Phallic glow. Shadows thick. I kneel. Habit flows. Naïve novice mask. Secret Heroine mutates. Day heroine sheds. Pulsions roar. Heart pounds. Adrenaline spikes. Control mine. Always was. Door creaks. He enters. Violet bishop robes. Lumberjack bulk. Fake Ottawa bishop. Voice gravel. ‘Pray, sister.’ I play dumb. Eyes wide. Vow of abstinence? ‘Hard,’ he growls. Cock hard. I feign shock. ‘What’s hard, Monsignor?’ Power throbs. My trap snaps.
He lunges. Hands grip habit. Lifts. No panties. Poor family tale. Bullshit. Bare ass glows. Globes perfect. Firm. He kneads. Rough palms. Tender flesh yields. I moan soft. ‘Caress well, Monsignor.’ Inside, fire builds. Five minutes. Endless. His face drops. Nose sniffs. Clean. Soapy fresh. Tongue laps cheeks. Wet trails. Index hums. Circles anus. Tight rosebud. Dips in. Twists. Chatters. ‘Tickles!’ I gasp. He grins. ‘Preparing you, child.’ Tongue replaces. Agile. Probes deep. Rim walls. I squirm. Hips buck. Unholy writhe. Adrenaline floods. City rhythm fades. Only this. Power.
Ultimate Power Reveal
‘Ready?’ I purr. He frees beast. Thick cock. Purple glans swollen. Veins pulse. Approaches hole. Pushes. Smooth glide. Lubed perfect. No resistance. In. Deep. Stretches rectum. Fills void. He thrusts. In-out. Rhythm builds. Savage. Lumberjack power. But mine deeper. Grips him. Milks shaft. Waves crash. Intensity cinematic. Gland batters. Pleasure rips. ‘Oh God, so good!’ I cry. Joy bursts. He swells. Erupts. Hot jets flood bowels. Cum coats. Warm gush. Bliss peaks. Body quakes.
He pulls out. Smug. Drops robes. Reveals. ‘Fooled you! Philippe the lumberjack. From salon!’ Shock twists face. I rise. Torch flares. Chapel lights. Habit falls. Fiery red hair tumbles. My face. Brigitte’s smirk. ‘Fooled you worse. I’m the coiffeuse.’ His jaw drops. World crumbles. I stand tall. Ass dripping his seed. Power absolute. Dominated his soul. Used his cock. For my fire.
Dawn breaks. Salon waits. Scissors sharp. Normalcy slips on. Mother? No. Heroine pure. Secret burns. Stronger. Unmatched. They see stylist. I know truth. Wild pulse hidden. Controls all.