The Rules Of The Convent

by Kara Bryn

  The Rules Of The Convent

  By Kara Bryn

  Text copyright ©2016 Kara Bryn

  All Rights Reserved

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  The Rules Of The Convent

  "What did she do?" Sarah asked the nun beside her.

  "They found something," Sister Jessica replied, and then added ominously, "Something in her room. A forbidden… toy."

  Sarah's eyebrows raised, but she wasn't entirely sure what Sister Jessica meant. Still, she would see soon enough.

  She looked around at the other nuns. Sister Theresa, she who had transgressed, was standing alone in the centre of the cold stone chapter house, with every other member of the convent surrounding her in a wide circle. Theresa was staring shamefacedly at the floor. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, but she had been at the convent for over a year.

  The circle of nuns parted near the doorway to the chapter house and the Reverend Mother strode through the gap and towards Theresa. Sarah noticed that she was holding something; something about eight inches long, that looked like it was made out of rubber or plastic… and then Sarah gasped as she realised what it was. She had never seen one in real life before, neither the real thing nor the stand-in, but she was sure that the large piece of plastic in the Reverend Mother's hand was shaped like a giant phallus. She blushed at the thought of something like this being within the confines of the convent.

  The Reverend Mother stopped in front of Theresa and waited until she lifted her eyes to the object that she was holding between them.

  "Do you recognise this?" the Reverend Mother asked Theresa. Theresa nodded. "It was found in your room."

  A ripple of astonishment passed around the circle of nuns.

  "And you know such things are forbidden here?" Theresa nodded again. "That even thinking such thoughts should be confessed as a sin?" Theresa looked back down at the floor.

  "But I only-" she began to protest.

  "You only thought you'd open the door a crack, so the devil could peer through?" the Reverend Mother interrupted, "You thought just to give him a glimpse of your soft, tempting flesh, and hoped he'd be satisfied and would then leave you alone?"

  Sister Theresa's head dropped and she fought back the tears.

  "You know what your punishment will be, don't you?" the Reverend Mother asked her. Theresa nodded.

  "What will it be?" Sarah whispered the question to Jessica beside her. Jessica put her finger to her lips to quieten her companion: she'd find out soon enough, and she didn't want to draw the attention of the Reverend Mother when she was this angry.

  "Here," the Reverend Mother said and handed the toy to Theresa, "Let's see just how much satisfaction you can find from the tools of Satan. Let the other sisters see exactly what their missing out on by keeping to their vows of abstinence. Show us how wrong we are, and let us see if we envy you." She paused theatrically. "Let us see if we lust to join you in sin. Or let us see if we pity you, and can find it within our hearts to give you absolution."

  Theresa's face turned a bright shade of red and with both hands she hoisted the bottom of her habit up her legs. There were more gasps as a mound of hair between came into view. Theresa leant forwards and, carefully, she put the phallus between her legs. Sarah watched in shock as it slipped slowly inside of her.

  Theresa pressed a button on the base of the device and a faint buzzing noise could be heard. While Theresa held the toy with one hand and her habit was bundled around her waist with the other, Sarah watched as the phallus appeared to bend this way and that against its base. Sarah felt a tingling between her own legs, a tingling that grew as she saw the expression change on Theresa's face. Embarrassment was receding and her breathing was deepening and quickening.

  They circle of nuns watched in silence and the faint sound of buzzing was gradually being drowned out by the increasing noise of Theresa's deep breaths. Breaths became pants and, even in the cool room, Sarah could see the thin sheen of sweat on Theresa's face and her bare legs. She did, indeed, feel pity for the poor girl, and although she told herself it was pity for what she had allowed herself to be tempted by, in truth it was pity for the punishment that she was being given. Humility was at the core of the sisterhood, but humiliation should have no place.

  "Do you see what she has become?" the Reverend Mother said in a loud voice, "You see how the devil has taken control of her body? That she cannot even think about where she is, about the people who are watching her? She is barely able to stand. Does this look like something that we should allow into our lives? Into our bodies?"

  The nuns shook their heads and made vague murmurs of agreement.

  Theresa's pants became small, high-pitched yelps. Her body seemed to be pulsating in an intense rhythm. She sank to her knees, trying to soften her landing on the stone floor but unable to fully control her muscles. As her hips rocked back and forth whimpers and yelps escaped from her lips at a faster and faster pace, until the gaps between them disappeared and it became a single high pitched sound that increased in volume until it was almost a scream. She collapsed forwards onto her elbows, still whimpering as she tried to reach for the toy that was vibrating inside of her. She found the button to disable it and the buzzing noise stopped, as did the whimpering, but, in the quiet room, her panting was deafeningly loud.

  The Mother Reverend turned to the group, looking each of them in the eye in turn, searching for a sign that the lesson had been taught effectively. She found no dissent.

  "Sister Theresa: when you have finally flung the spirit of Satan from your body, dispose of that monstrosity and come to see me to beg for absolution."

  With that, the Reverend Mother turned and walked towards the room's only exit. The nuns parted to allow her through and then filed out behind her, their feet shuffling slowly on the ground. Sarah took a last look at Theresa, still huddled on the floor, the large, plastic phallus lying beside her, glistening in the dim light. She couldn't tell whether the woman was still panting or had begun sobbing, and she longed to walk over to her and comfort her. She felt pity for the poor girl, and she felt anger at the severe punishment the Reverend Mother had submitted her to. But she dared not speak out.

  Back in her room she sat in silence, alone with her thoughts. Sarah was barely nineteen years old, and she had only been with the convent for a few weeks. She was still getting used to the strict regime, and the Reverend Mother's harsh enforcement of the convent's rules. And even more, she was not yet used to the urges of her own body, and the need to suppress them if she was to live as a nun. She felt ashamed of the arousal she had felt as she watched Theresa squirm in the throes of ecstasy.

  She locked her door and went to her suitcase in the corner of the room. She unzipped it and reached inside, her fingers searching for the small compartment in the lid. She pulled out the object of her quest: a magazine that she had bought to occupy herself on the journey here.

  She opened it to the double-page spread that she had studied many times now. It was an article about dressing for the man in your life, how to tease him and to make sure that he never looked at another woman again. She had heard about the weaknesses of men, but many women seemed to desire them all the same, so was dressing to keep hold of one such a bad thing?

  The article was illustrated by a thin woman wearing black lace underwear and sto
ckings. She stood confidently, her eyes seemingly looking through the camera and directly into Sarah's.

  Sarah reached over and pulled her underwear drawer open. She pushed aside the pile of plain white cotton and, reaching far to the back, she pulled out a small paper bag. She placed the contents on her bed beside her.

  She didn't know why she'd bought them. Partly it was after seeing the article in the magazine, and partly it was as a last act of rebellion. She felt that she should own something like this before she gave it all up forever, even if no-one ever saw it.

  She laid the black stockings out on the bed along with the small, black lace panties and bra. A sudden impulse took hold of her and she lifted her habit over her head and heaped it on the bed. Her plain white underwear joined it.

  She slid her legs into the black panties and wrapped the bra around body. Carefully, she took the stockings out of their packet and rolled the first one onto her right toe. She'd worn tights before, but never stockings. Neither was allowed to be worn within the convent and, after seeing what had happened to Sister Theresa, she wondered if she would face punishment if even her possession of them was discovered.

  The stockings were smooth and sensuous as she slid them onto her legs. The slightly pinching of the elastic at the top of her thighs was a lovely, titillating feeling, and for a moment she forgot that she was a woman of vows and remembered that she was a vivacious nineteen year old.

  She held up the small table-top mirror, the only reflective surface she had, and angled it to look herself up and down. She slipped her feet into her black shoes to complete the picture, comparing it to the one in the magazine.

  She felt satisfied: she may not have the full, red lips, the dark eye make-up, or high heels, but her figure was just as good. She felt that, in another life, if she had a man then there would be no reason for him to look at anyone else. Still, that was in the realms of fantasy, and she wasn't exactly sure what the appeal of keeping a man was in any case.

  Sarah's reverie was broken by a sharp knock at the door.

  "Sister Sarah?" the voice from the other side called.

  Sarah suddenly panicked. At least she had remembered to lock the door: there was no way anyone could discover her like this.

  "Sarah?" the voice called again with another knock, "Are you in there? The Reverend Mother wants to see you right away."

  Sarah looked around: she couldn't keep the Reverend Mother waiting, not for the time it would take her to change back into her own underwear. Hurriedly, she pulled her habit over her head. She looked down: it was long enough that it covered her feet and hide her stockings. She bundled her white underwear up and pushed it back into the drawer.

  There was another urgent knock and another call. "Coming!" she said and jumped at the door.

  "You look very flushed," said Sister Jessica from the other side of the door, "What were you up to?"

  Sarah's cheeks began to burn. "I still had a few things to unpack," she said, concealing her actions within a truth, "And my suitcase is quite big and heavy." This, also, was not technically a lie, but it was irrelevant.

  "Well, come with me," Jessica said and led Sarah down the hallway.

  At the Reverend Mother's office Jessica knocked and waited to be called in. The pair of young nun filed in quietly and stood, waiting to be addressed.

  "Thank you, Sister Jessica," the Reverend Mother said, "You can leave us now."

  Sarah's fear rose as Jessica left the room. Was she being summoned here for punishment? Were secrets really discovered so rapidly here?

  "There's no need to be frightened of me," the Reverend Mother said, although her tone was anything but soft, "I'm not going to bite."

  Sarah relaxed a little, sensing that the conversation was not about her little secret. Nonetheless, being alone with the Reverend Mother was still a stressful experience for the young woman.

  "You've only been with us a few weeks, Sarah," the Reverend Mother continued, "And I don't believe we've assigned you many work duties yet?"

  "No, Reverend Mother," Sarah said meekly. The Reverend Mother smiled, but even her smile conveyed not an ounce of kindness.

  "Well, unfortunately, all of the best jobs have been taken. But I'm sure you'll have noticed that the founders of this convent, in their wisdom, have chosen a particularly dusty part of a particularly dry country to place us in."

  Sarah allowed herself a half-smile and a nod. But coming to Central America had appealed to her; to do some good in this part of the world, and to symbolise her rebirth.

  "And you'll have noticed, then, that we have a lot of plants and flowers hanging around to try to brighten things up."

  "I have, Reverend Mother." She almost commented on how beautiful she had found them but didn't want to over-step her place by making casual conversation.

  "Well, then, keeping them alive is the job I'd like to give to you." Sarah smiled and bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Oh, it's not too complicated: mainly watering them each day. Ask Sister Theresa: she'll used to do it and can pass on any further instructions."

  "Yes, Reverend Mother."

  "Now, you better get to afternoon prayer. We all need to pray after the ordeal that Sister Theresa put us through."

  Sarah bowed her head and left the room, feeling vast relief that she had been summoned for such a mundane reason. Watering the plants? It wasn't exactly what she'd thought a life of devotion would be, but it needed doing and she was happy to do it.

  She walked to the chapel and knelt in place for afternoon prayer. As she bent at the knees she paid special attention to keep her habit covering the backs of her heels lest the fabric of her sheer nylon stockings became exposed. Still, the prayer session passed without incident and, if anything, Sarah felt that consciousness of her predicament only enhanced her concentration. If it was possible to pray harder than usual, then she did so: for herself, for Sister Theresa and her error of judgement, and for the Reverend Mother, to ask for forgiveness for the way she had punished Theresa.

  Following prayer Sarah set herself about her newly assigned role. She found the watering cans and diligently watered each of the flower beds and all of the pots. She saw Theresa walking around the courtyard, but, after what she had witnessed from her that morning, she felt too ashamed on Theresa's behalf to approach her and ask about her full set of duties. Watering would be enough for today, and tomorrow she would find out what else her new job might entail. The plants weren't going to die overnight.

  As Sarah sat and ate dinner with the other nuns she felt a growing sense of confidence inside of her. Firstly, she now had a place in the convent, a purpose, even if it was the simplest of tasks. But secondly, she had a secret that none of them knew: that beneath her habit was a sexy, young woman in black lingerie and stockings; a woman who would be the object of desire of any man alive. The article had told her so. She smiled to herself.

  That evening, back in the privacy of her own room, she locked the door, pulled her habit over her head, and admired her figure in the mirror again. She wondered: was this what normal young women did? From the articles in the magazine, it seemed that everyone was dressing to impress the opposite sex, even if they couldn’t see it.

  Sarah's sleep that night was disturbed. She dreamt of herself in the convent. Only, instead of her habit, she was wearing her sexy black underwear and stockings and she had found some high heels like the girl in the magazine photo. And then, for a reason that made no sense, suddenly she was without her underwear, and she had to stand at the front of prayer in nothing but stockings and high heels.

  And then she was giving Holy Communion, with each nun in turn standing and walking towards her to take the body of Christ. But, instead of placing the communion wafer in their mouths she would place it between her own lips, and each Sister in turn would press their lips to hers and take their communion in a series of brief, or sometimes prolonged, kisses. As they leant towards her, the rough fabric of their habits rubbed against her breasts. And with each touch
and with each kiss her arousal would grow.

  And then, at the last, Sister Theresa came to take the communion, and they kissed, and Sarah gasped. Theresa knelt down before her and she held her hands as if in prayer and asked for forgiveness for her sins. Theresa took hold of Sarah's hand and kissed it as she pleaded, and with each kiss an electric shock was sent up Sarah's body. And then her hand was released and Theresa gripped Sarah's hips firmly, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh. Sarah tried to pull away but she was rooted to the spot.

  Theresa raised herself on her knees and then, without warning, she leant forwards and planted a kiss on Sarah's pelvis. It sent another, much larger jolt of electricity through the young girl's body and she tried to pull back. But another kiss followed, this time it was lower, and then another, and suddenly Sarah was yelping in the way that Theresa had yelped today, and even though Theresa had now stopped kissing her she was overwhelmed by wave upon wave of pleasure.

  She awoke in the throes of orgasm, her first for many months. She tugged at the thick blankets that were pressing down on her hard nipples and struggled to free herself, but she found that her struggles only increased the sensations inside of her. As the final spasm wracked her body, she finally gained freedom of movement and spread her arms and legs wide in contented relief.

  She lay there in silence, listening for any sign that her yelps had been more than just a dream. It was still dark and there was no sound of movement, and Sarah soon fell asleep again, sure that her very intense experience had remained within the bounds of her room.

  The next morning when she heard the alarm bell her first thought was of her dream. It was so intense and so… good. Was this really the kind of thing that the Reverend Mother thought was so bad? She rose and pulled open her underwear draw and reached for her white cotton. But instead, her sexy, black lingerie and stockings caught her eye and she thought to herself: why not? Perhaps she'd have the same dream again tonight. If so, then maybe even being caught would be worth it.