Punishment
It wasn't the inhabitants of Briarcliff that had disturbed you, but rather your duties. As a nun, you had been taught to live a pious life. You prayed before each meal and before you went to bed every night. But not even your prayers could save you from this place, where hauntings weren't just part of fiction anymore. Every creak in the floorboards made you jump. What if one of the patients had escaped from their rooms and managed to find a knife to enact their revenge upon you? Despite not having been at Briarcliff for even a fortnight, you had become one of the most reviled nuns in the institution. Sister Jude had made you perform unspeakable duties that never ceased to haunt you in your dreams. You had become increasingly paranoid over your time here at Briarcliff. You couldn't blame a patient if they had wanted to kill you—you deserved it for abusing God's creations so ruthlessly.
You believed that prayer and the scripture would save those who were slipping down the slope to being damned, but Sister Jude did not quite agree with you. She held the firm belief that the patients of Briarcliff were too far gone to be saved by the Holy Book alone, and required more intensive reform. She claimed to follow Monsignor Timothy Howard's three P's: productivity, prayer and purification—the tonic for the diseased mind. But nowhere in those three P's were the words pain and punishment. She saw each crack of her riding crops and canes as a blessing for all those who strayed off the path to heaven. You wished that you could see eye to eye with her, but in the end you had to give up in defeat as Sister Jude was too a child of God, who was sent to earth to spread his love. She had the most authority of all of the nuns at Briarcliff, and you therefore had to come to accept her methods, not matter how much you disagreed with them.
You could still remember a thick riding crop of Sister Jude's in your hand, your sweaty palms gripping its rough leather handle. The patient trembled against the Sister's desk, begging for mercy. You didn't quite understand why Sister Jude had wanted you, of all of the nuns, to punish this pour soul for its indiscretion, but you knew that you must do it, or you would face this form of severe punishment yourself. You could still see the patient's face grow pale in your mind's eye, beads of sweat forming against his skin as you whipped has buttocks.
"Whip him, don't pet him! This is punishment for his sins, (Name)," Sister Jude spoke harshly toward you.
"Yes, Sister," you replied quietly, your hands trembling from this daunting task. You whipped him harder, and closed your eyes as you did so. You attempted to block out the sounds of the cracking whip and his screams, but failed. He sounded like he was drowning in a sea of pain, and you wished that the punishment would end soon.
"Twenty more lashes," she spat when she saw that you had frozen. "And open your eyes. You should be pleased to be beating the sins out of him, to be making him a purer being. You are saving his soul with each whipping, (Name)." She licked her lips as she watched you carefully. Taking her necklace into her hand, she pressed her fist into her chest in a poor attempt to calm her racing heart. Each move you made caused her heart to race and sublime bolts of electricity to course through her veins.
No matter how you wanted to apologize to this man, you couldn't. You kept on whipping him, each strike sharp and deliberate. Sister Jude would not accept anything less. You watched Sister Jude as she closed her eyes and exhaled a breathy whine. You felt something stir in your nether regions that you refused to acknowledge. Your underwear grew wet as you watched the blonde nun slip further into euphoria. When she opened her eyes, you turned your head away and lowered it in shame.
"Good, keep going. That's it." Her voice was deep, and had you not been so deliberately naïve at the time, you would have recognized it as dangerously deep, saturated with a want that you had long ago forced yourself to forget.
As you lay in your bed, you felt your undergarments grow wet. You felt restless and could not sleep. Rubbing your thighs together in frustration, you threw the bed covers that had suddenly grown too warm off of yourself. You trailed a hand down your neck, picturing Sister Jude in your mind, her hand becoming yours. You could see her blonde hair shimmering, and her beautiful eyes staring at you. Oh dear God, it had been ages since you had felt a feeling as compelling as this, and how it needed to be satiated! It was like a monster that grew and grew the more she fed it. The insatiable beast refused to leave you be!
"Jude," you breathed, your hands wandering lower down your body. They reached the softness of your breasts, and you squeezed them lightly. You wondered for a brief moment—was the Almighty watching you now? But you quickly become lost in the fire that continued to overtake your body, swallowing you whole in its flames. Your lips let a moan escape from your mouth, no longer able to contain your arousal. Only then when you had let this unholy sound escape your virgin lips had you admitted to yourself that you were experiencing pure, unadulterated lust—and for a woman! Your sins grew with each passing moment as your hands dared to venture further down your body, finally slipping beneath your demure, white slip.
So utterly consumed by arousal, you failed to notice Sister Jude open the door of your room and walk into your room. She had come that night into your room, for a reason she wished she could deny. She couldn't shake the images of your heaving breasts as you bent leaned over her desk, so ashamed of lashing a patient. She couldn't shake how you looked at her, your eyes pleading to her to allow you to stop. Thoughts of you had consumed her so fully that she could no longer deny how she needed you, your skin, and your body. She couldn't believe her eyes. She stood against the wall, her eyes drinking up the carnal sight. At first, she refrained from speaking, her tongue preoccupied as it was licking her own lips. She heard you moan her name, and oh Lord, how sweet it sounded from your cherubic lips. She felt her heartbeat race the moment you had spoken her name, and now she knew, without a doubt, that you wanted her too. She felt her folds moisten the more she watched you, and became lost in the vision before her. Only when she saw you slide your hands further down your thighs, nearing your sacred mound, did she speak. "(Name)!" she shouted sternly, her voice not betraying her in that moment.
You jumped from your bed in terror, your breasts giggling once your bottom settled onto the bed, your legs folded in front of you. Sister Jude's core clenched, her eyes never leaving the outline of your breasts. Trembling, you stared at Sister Jude. "Forgive me, for I have sinned," you told her boldly, noticing the blush upon her fair cheeks.
"Compose yourself, and in the slip which you have sinned, come to my office. I will give you no more than five minutes to come to my office. If you are any later, your punishment will be more severe." She briskly walked out of your room, her head held high.
You stood from your bed, shaking like a brittle leaf in a cold autumn wind. Would she take a riding crop and punish you for the unholy acts you had performed? What if she removed you from this institution completely? But, then you remembered the look of lust pooling in her eyes as she had watched you bolt up from your bed, and you knew, much to your pleasure, that Sister Jude would punish you liberally tonight. There were no words for how slick your folds had grown at the thought.
You arrived at her office seven minutes after Sister Jude had left your room, deliberately making yourself two minutes late for your appointed time. When you opened the door, you walked in with an air of confidence. "I do hope I'm not too late, Sister," you breathed, your voice heavy with arousal.
"Only two minutes, but no matter. We will start off by you taking your pick from my collection." She opened a large, dark brown armoire to reveal approximately a dozen riding crops. "Pick your poison," she whispered into your ear when you had finally reached her.
Goosebumps dotted your warm skin; her proximity to you caused you to shiver in spite of how warm she made you feel. You spied a thick riding crop with slight grooves on its surface. It was still lacquered beautifully, showing minimal wear, causing you to think that Sister Jude used this one for special occasions only. You picked that one, and held it in your hands for a moment, licking your lips as you finally passed it to her.
Losing control of her patience, she grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to her desk, shoving you on top of it. "I should have listened to the others, when they told me about your past. You were a wicked little harlot, weren't you? Even a life of chastity dedicated to God couldn't save you. But maybe I can beat salvation into you, you naughty little thing." Her voice was like thick molasses, sweet but dark, and oh so addictive.
"Then save me sister," you replied, moving your hands to the hem of your slip which was just below your knees.
She hit your hands with the riding crop, and then leaned it against her desk. Her hands, confidently without trembling, traveled to the hem of your slip. They lingered there for a moment, her fingers brushing up against the back of your knees, before moving the slip up your thighs and then to your hips at an agonizingly slow pace. She slid a finger over the edge of your panties. When you moved your hips down against her desk, arching your back slightly, she grinned. A warmth spread throughout her body, her core feeling with a want, a need—a lust—that overtook her fully and swiftly. She pulled the band of your underwear back as far is it could go and watched it snap back. She let out a nearly indiscernible throaty moan as you yelped at the sharp pain. Finally removing your underwear, she could see the red mark from the band that she had made.
This was foreplay like you had never known before. You were on edge, waiting for the moment you could finally be allowed to jump off, but were only given teasings. Every touch of her hands against your skin felt exhilarating to you, and oh Lord, how you needed more. You craved Sister Jude like she was a divine wine whose taste you felt you needed to survive.
"Twenty lashes for the indecency of your actions, ten lashes for the vile thoughts you had allowed to fester in your mind, ten lashes for being late" Sister Jude began, taking the riding crop into her hand once more and sliding it across your bare buttocks. "And ten lashes for moaning my name," she husked. "And if you dare to make a noise, I will punish you in a way you could never imagine."
The lashings began, and you savored each one. She spared you no mercy in her actions. You counted each lashing in your mind both in pleasure and in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from moaning out. Your lips hit the desk on the thirtieth lash, bruising upon its hardness; you imagined that it was the Sister's lips who were bruising your own. Your hands which you had placed above your head curled into tights fists, your finger nails digging deep into your palms.
"Obedience like this is a virtue," Sister Jude spoke, lashing you harder than ever, "Where has your obedience to God fled? Where is your loyalty?" She stopped for a moment, and took each cheek of your ass into separate hands. Her thumbs brutally rubbed circles into your reddened ass. "Where is your shame?"
"Oh, Sister Jude," you whined out in a half-moan that you could no longer suppress. You bit your tongue immediately after speaking those words—her name—so lasciviously, feeling that you had betrayed your mistress.
The riding crop cracked sharply against you, Sister Jude deciding now was the time to continue with your punishment. When you had endured the final lash, your knees buckled beneath you and you fell onto the ground. You rolled onto you back, your chest rising and falling with each of breath of yours, and looked up at Jude who gazed at you licentiously.
She kneeled onto the ground and caressed your face. Your hair was haloed around your head as lay there, waiting expectantly for her next move. She refused to give you immediate satisfaction. "What did I tell you about moaning?" She slapped you hard across the face then, "Humility has been lost to you." Her hand trailed down your body and snaked under your slip. Her hand rested on your thigh, just beneath your dripping wet mound.
"Please, Sister, allow me release," you pleaded; your eyes brimmed with tears from the painful need in your core.
She cupped her hand over your pussy, and you bucked your hips, "You wanton whore," she spat at you, her face nearing yours. Her lips were just above yours, and you anticipated the kiss that you had so long waited for. She closed her eyes, picturing the softness of your lips upon hers, yet she never neared her lips any closer to yours. But, Sister Jude was cruel in her teasing and denied this too to you, "You pray for sexual release instead of forgiveness." Her lips brushed against your chin, and you both let out quiet moans.
"I pray for the salvation only you can give me," you replied, closing your eyes at the sensation of her hot breath against your face. "Punish me."
She pulled you toward her, the both of you now lying on your sides. One of her hands rested on your hips, while the other stayed firmly pressed to your pussy. "Your punishment," she started, passing her index finger over your folds, "is no release tonight." She removed her hands from you, and stood up, watching you groveling on the floor drowning in a pool of need. She returned the riding crop to its place in the armoire without looking at you. "Return to your bedchambers and pray for another chance for redemption."
You left the room, stumbling over your own feet, still weak from the pulsation of your nerves which still felt like they were being poked by the hot flame that was dubbed Sister Jude. And you knew when you had exited the room that this would not be your last punishment from her. Oh no, this was only the prelude of a vast symphony that needed to be written.
Screw God and the writings of the Holy Bible. In all of the religious delusions that you had been fed, you had learned only one thing—sinning was the lifeblood and the defining force of the human race. You were not a pious nun, or a woman of God, but a mere human being who sinned, who lusted. And Sister Jude, in her actions of that night, when she had taken a morbid pleasure in punishing you in such an erotic manner, had proven that she was a human who sinned, who lusted. And God be damned, you would continue to sin with her and for her.
Sister Jude removed her stark uniform, folding it and setting it neatly in a drawer to be washed in the morning. She was left in her red, silk slip which highlighted her bust with lace. Leaning against the wall, she took her cross necklace into her hand and breathed out a heavy breath. That night, she pleasured herself for the first time in years, bringing herself to orgasm time after time to thoughts of you. Her last thought before falling asleep, beads of sweet covering her body, was that she could barely wait for the next encounter with you. It had been her servitude to God that had stopped her from further purging herself of all the holiness she had taken years to gain. But she knew that God would not stop her the next time, or the time after that, and the time after that.
A/N: So… Thoughts? Comments? Maybe even Follows/Favorites? I'm thinking of continuing this. And it'll only become dirtier with each chapter.
Song I listened to while writing this: Richard Einhorn-Pater Noster: www. youtube watch?v=sp1UgS044cA