It’s pathetic, really, that my parents still control me at eighteen years old. Instead of partying with my friends the summer before freshman year of college, I’m stuck in a bus packed full of thirteen to nineteen year old Bible Fuckers singing praise songs. Okay, it’s not that I have something against Christians. I really don’t. There are some that are cool, like the ones who respect differences and don’t take everything...

In the ancient town of Bethlehem, under the watchful gaze of the crescent moon, a warm breeze carried the scent of the nearby olive groves. The town was abuzz with anticipation for the upcoming census. The streets teemed with travelers, and the inns were filled to capacity. The only place that offered respite, a quiet refuge, was the humble stable behind the town's small chapel. Mary, a young maiden of 18 summers, her rad...

"Bet you didn't expect me." Kat had taken a one hour detour to get here. It was just something on her list, and long overdue. Today was as good a day as any. "To be honest, no. Who are you again?" "Ha ha." He smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She frowned. He looked more or less like she remembered him, but not exactly. Handsome, sure, just...sadder. That was probably to be expected. She had been feeling down lately...

Prologue: Mahmuda Begum was a thirty-year old Muslim woman born in Afghanistan but eventually arrived and settled in the United Kingdom when she was a baby. She had been married to her husband Nasser who was eight years older than her at the age of eighteen. Although their marriage was now up to twelve years, it had not been a particularly happy one. In their last twelve years of marriage, Mahmuda couldn't conceive a chil...

Valeria was a fallen angel exiled to earth after disobeying the commands of God. She was kind, and meek, and always tried to fulfill her duties as an angel. However, God believed her to be disobedient and banished her to earth to reflect on her imperfections and weaknesses. The only thing Valeria wanted was to be a good and obedient angel. She spent every moment on earth pacing the church pews reflecting on her time as an...

Anne pressed the thorn into her palm until a bloom of blood pooled like a fallen raindrop in the lined land of her soft, satin-skinned hand. She breathed a small clandestine sigh of exquisite pleasure. This esoteric joy was what she called ‘the bright pain’. It made her sweat in her delicate places. It was her nightly ritual, as she sat on the sofa near the crackling fireplace in her bed chambers. As the night yawned deep...

He wore a paisley shirt. The nun watched as he ate his hot dog  And as he took one bite, squirted mustard all over himself He swore loudly as if his voice was just loud Unable to whisper The nun fingered her prayer beads under her habit,   The other hand moving a fork around a plate of salad.  She watched as he grabbed a page of  the newspaper he was reading to  wipe pathetically  At his paisley shirt.   Our father who ar...

Fahima Begum sat in front of her bedside mirror unable to concentrate as she struggled to fix her hijab properly. Lately, her mind had been plagued by doubts and sinful thoughts that no married Pakistani woman should have, and yet there they were. Fahima had been married to her husband, Ali, for fifteen years now, whilst it was a good marriage it was missing something. In fifteen years of marriage, Fahima and Ali had not...

  “Oh yeah, cunt!” he muttered under his breath. “Yeah, hot fucking cunt!” he continued, ogling the juicy specimen of beauty displaying herself to his lustful eyes. Her pussy was indeed beautiful – pink and delicate, with a finely-crafted blond landing-strip, held open by a pair of painted fingers, so that he could gaze into its hot, wet, steamy depths. He stroked his cock in anticipation, feeling his shaft stiffen and gr...