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Amanda did not become a nun out of any sense of religious duty or the feeling of having been called. No, Amanda became a nun to avoid the expectation that she should marry.
A woman of her class and social standing simply must marry. The sons of family friends had been eyed as potential matches from the day she was born and it was an inevitability that she would marry an heir to a nice fortune and her status and wealth would be secured.
A good future was mapped out for her, one that many women of a lower standing could only dream of and yet she didn’t want it. There was no version of her life where she could imagine being happy with a man. So, she chose the only route out that didn’t destroy her and her family’s reputation. The convent.
The convent spared her and her family the shame of having an unwed daughter and the social ruin that would’ve come from rejecting the proposals of multiple eligible men. Instead, she got to be seen as noble and pious, sacrificing a future with a husband and babies to devote herself to God.
Amanda had envisioned the convent as a place where her sexuality could never be questioned because she wasn’t supposed to have one. But the convent proved to be a place full of like-minded women in the same situation. Rather than be desexed and above such worldly desires, she found herself surrounded by temptation.
“We’ll be caught,” Amanda whispers in haste as Brune reaches beneath her white coif to free a strand of white-blonde hair.
“Mother Superior wants me to spend time alone with you to see how you’re settling in.” There’s a wicked glint in Brune’s eye that leaves Amanda with the impression that she agreed to be a novice mistress precisely to engineer scenarios like this.
“So do you like it here?” Brune asks.
“Yes, of course.”
Brune begins to remove Amanda’s veil and when Amanda doesn’t stop her, she continues by removing the coif and wimple and casting them to the floor. She runs the back of her hand down Amanda’s cheek and stops at her neck. Lightly to start with, Brune kisses and sucks on Amanda’s neck. “And do you like it here?”
“Yes,” Amanda says, almost buckling at the knees. She bunches up the fabric of her tunic in her fists to keep from crying out. Yes, she’s really going to like it here.