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There she sat, grey-haired and stern looking like always, in the middle of the long cherry-wood table on the dais, her lips barely able to contain that self-assured smile that annoyed me so much. Behind her hung the usual silly and perversely expensive depictions of tiny angels worshipping the Lord. Left and right of her, her fellow senior sisters in their black habits waited submissively for her signal to start the meal, now that the prayer was over, and I had to struggle to contain my giggles. “Are you crazy?” Sister Stella elbowed me in the ribs, outraged at what I had done. “What?” I asked, swallowing and crossing my arms. “She’s all talk. I don’t know how often she’s threatened to have me over her knees or whipped in front of the assembly. She’s never done it. She’ll never do it. So what’s the worst she can do? Order me to pray? Oh, silly me, I’m already doing that all day long.” Stella pouted and turned away, whispering something about eternal damnation, and all the other novice sisters tried to avoid looking at me too. It had to be any second now. “Holy Mother Mary!” The expected high-pitched scream of outrage was music to my ears. All heads swiveled to the head table. I took my time, knowing what I would see. My giggles finally escaped when I saw the deeply affronted face of Sister Angela as she held the penis-shaped potato, complete with balls, out in front of her. Gasps and muted shrieks filled the air. It was hilarious. It had taken me almost an hour to carve a whole bowl of potatoes into perfect, if a little undersized, penis renditions, boil them without breaking them or anyone noticing what I was doing, and to sneak them onto her plate. While chaos ensued all around, I congratulated myself. The noise died down with the same speed as a crimson flush rose in the Mother Superior’s face. “Who! Did! This?” she bellowed, and heads ducked everywhere around me. Everywhere, that is, but opposite me. Sister Linda, the bitch, sent me a devious little smirk, mouthing, “You’ll get it, this time,” then schooled her features into a face of innocence and slowly raised a hand. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let her catch me put itching powder in her panties. “I believe it was Sister Miranda, Mother Superior.” “What?” Suddenly, loud footsteps echoed in the dining hall, and a few seconds later, I felt a hand touch my shoulder and tighten painfully around it. “Sister Miranda.” The voice was sharp enough to cut steel. “What have you got to say for yourself? Did you commit this – this infamy?” I slowly stood up and turned around. With her almost six feet, the Mother Superior towered over my five feet four, and when she looked down at me with those sparkling eyes Küçükköy escort full of righteous fury, something deep inside me seemed to break free and a wicked, warm feeling spread through my body. I smiled sweetly at her, not the tiniest hint of subservience on my face, waited a few seconds until I could see impatience flicker over her lips and her eyes narrow, then declared with that self-same sweetness, “Yes, Mother Superior, it was me.” The ensuing silence was palpable. All color trailed from her face. “Why, I never…” Her breathing grew ragged. This time, I knew, I had managed to shake her unfailing countenance. So I pressed on. “Yes, it was just as hilarious as I had thought it would be.” It took her a few seconds to collect herself enough to speak. Her cheeks were flushed once more, and that flickering rage in her eyes was back a thousand fold. “Sister Miranda!” Her hand clutched the front of my plain white habit, and then I was pulled after her, across the hall and up the dais. “Mother Superior,” one of the elder sisters hissed at her, but she ignored her. My heart beat like mad. I was pushed against the back of her chair, then spun around so I was facing the hall, and the Mother’s vice-like grip on my shoulders held me in place. “It is an outrage!” Her voice echoed in the silent chamber. “Sister Miranda has time and time violated our convent’s rules and been tasked with labor and prayers, yet she fails to understand the severity of her transgressions. I am at a loss. Where have we failed you, child?” Child? I almost giggled. At twenty years, I was hardly a child. I mustered up some courage. “It’s because you’re all bark but no bite, Mother.” “Excuse me?” It got her attention. “Well, you keep dishing out empty threats all the time. It’s no wonder nobody takes you seriously.” The gasps all over the room were just too cute. “Shut up!” she shouted, enraged. “Or I promise you I’ll…” “Spank my naked bum in front of the assembly? Whip my arse in the courtyard? Bind my arms and legs and throw me into a growth of nettles?” I giggled “You already promised all that but failed to deliver.” This did it. With a mighty yank, my habit was pulled off me, turning the world dark for a second, and when I could look again, pale faces full of disbelief stared at me. “Yes!” I shouted inwardly and felt my nipples stiffen even more in the cool air, and my giggles could barely stay contained. It was mandatory to wear an underskirt and bra and chemise as well as the thin under-dress, grandma-styles panties and cotton stockings. Yet here I stood, naked but for a pair of knee-high socks, and only the back of the chair protected my Mecidiyeköy escort bayan shaven pussy from my fellow sister’s stares. “Holy Mother Mary!” The Mother once more exclaimed. But then her breath was hot in my ear. “Slut,” she whispered, and her hand wrapped around the back of my neck and pushed me forward. I had no choice but to bend over the chair’s backrest and catch my weight with my arms on the table’s edge. My tits dangled obscenely below me, and I saw some sisters cover their eyes – but others, especially among the younger ones, kept staring with fascination. I tried to remember all their faces. The backrest dug painfully into my tummy, but I gave it no heed. This was a fantasy that had played out in my mind over and over, ever since the Mother Superior had threatened me with that self-same punishment. And it came. I heard the loud slap echo in the silent hall before my bum noticed the fiery impact and my body rocked forward. Heat spread from where her hand had swatted my bum cheek. Slap. Again. And again. Like a rain of fire, swat after swat rained down on my shaking bum, each one hotter and more painful than the one before, and I loved it. My bum cheeks shook with every impact, and I wiggled them as good as I could while I whimpered. She caught the tops of my thighs, than sensitive spot that stung like hell, and my whimpers turned into pained cries. Tears rushed into my eyes and the heat spread all over my body. Like a demon possessed, she covered my backside with spanks that fell not even seconds apart. This was it. I felt my pussy juices dribble down my thighs and heard my cries get louder and louder. Then she stopped, and I heard her fight for air. She roughly pulled me back by my hair and the chair scraped over the floor with an ugly screech. “Have you had enough now?” she hissed, spittle flying and hitting me in the face. I licked my lips, taking in her flushed appearance, the glistening sheen of sweat on her forehead and her rumpled habit. “No, Mother Superior,” I purred, grinning through my tears, and when she took a surprised step back and looked at me from wide, startled eyes, I ran a hand through my folds and held up my glistening fingers, moaning, “but we’re off to a good start.” She froze. Seconds ticked by, and I could see disbelief war with rage in her face. Then her eyes alighted again, and I knew that I had won. “Sister Elizabeth, fetch the cane!” she hissed without taking her eyes off me, and the scraping of a chair close by told that the so addressed hurried to fulfill her order. “Sister Margaret, shackle her to the rack!” “But Mother…” a timid voice interjected. Escort Merter “No buts. Do it!” She looked beautiful, with all that rage in her face. Someone grabbed my hand and pulled me to the left side of the room. This was where the “rack” stood. Tales were told about past times, when insubordinate sisters supposedly had been bound there and whipped until they passed out. But nobody us novices had ever known by name, much less met, had been subjected to that kind of punishment. “Please,” a soft voice urged me, and I turned to look at its source. “Please apologize, I implore you, and tell her you’ll atone for your sins.” Sister Margaret was only ten years my senior and a very compassionate person. You could get away with everything with her, if you just appeared rueful. “No way,” I told her. “Let’s see what the Mother can dish out.” “I don’t understand you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She took my hand and wrapped a wide leather strap that was attached to a rough hemp rope around my wrist and buckled it tight. I thought I recognized a hint of flush on her cheeks – something I promised myself to check back on. My other hand was bound too, then both legs. “Please reconsider,” Margaret urged again, her voice pleading. “You have no idea…” I winked at her. “But I do.” I threw her a little kiss, and yes! She shyly looked away, and the pink on her cheeks deepened. I had spent hours adoring the rack and its simplistic beauty, dreaming of being bound there myself, legs and arms spread, helpless and lewd. Now Sister Margaret started to turn the large handle at its side, and the ropes picked up slack. Two turns more, and my legs were tugged apart. With each turn and its clicking sounds, my legs were spread further and my arms pulled towards the ceiling. Ten more, and my arms were extended straight upwards. Another one, and the pull there got so much that my feet left the floor. Click, click, click. The strain on my arms grew, and my legs were splayed out wide. Sister Margaret stepped back, her eyes misty. If the poor woman just knew the wicked carnal needs hidden inside me! Then the Mother Superior was in front of me, a wicked looking, two foot long cane in her hand. “This is your last chance,” she bellowed and made sure that my eyes noticed the implement of looming torture. “Do you repent your sins?” “Only that I didn’t think of adding some creamy white sauce to the potatoes,” I told her with a giggle, waggling my eyebrows and almost shouting with glee when her eyes narrowed to slits and her lips tightened. “Very well,” she told me, turning to our sisters. “Gracious Lord, let me be the implement for your justice and help us lead this sinful sister back onto the path of virtue and enlightenment. Forgive her sins and aid her through this painful ordeal, and bring her back to us purified.” She took a few steps, then, without further ado, I heard a swishing noise from behind, followed by a loud splat. My body arched, and a loud cry of pain was ripped from my throat.

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