The storm moved against the convent walls with all the powers of God. Lecherous sheets of rain doused young women in white to see the flesh underneath, while the ravenous wind tried to unclothe them. The cold delighted in running its fingertips up long skirts, long legs, shuddering breasts and hardened nipples. The tempest cared nothing for the sanctity of this place as it chased virgins round the courtyard. But at last its passion peaked and was spent. Leaving the ravaged maidens to catch their breath.
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