“Mother Superior had you removed from the Convent because you were found indulging in
the sins of the flesh, specifically sexual sins. You had, she was certain, indulged
before. When you had first enjoyed sexual stimulation by someone else, after you took
your vows, and had not been caught, or been struck down by the wrath of Our Lord, what did
you think?”
“I … I …it was so nice. I wondered how it could be wrong.”
“And did you confess your sin?”
“N-No, sir,” her voice was very quiet as she admitted that.
“Thank you for your honesty. We shall get on splendidly if you continue to be
honest with me, and to obey your vow of obedience. You won’t have the chance to disobey
the vow of poverty, since you will have nothing which is your own. Even the habit you are
wearing belongs to the College and can be withdrawn at any time,” said her teacher, “And
speaking of poverty, I see you are still wearing the ring you were given at the time you
professed your vows. Please remove it and I will have it returned to the Convent, whose
property it is.”
Sister Lucia removed the ring with much anguish, as it seemed the last link with her
status as a nun.
“Don’t worry, I’ll see you get a College replacement, but of course it will not have
been blessed in the same way,” the Monsignor reassured her, “Much as the habit you are now
wearing, it will preserve the memory of being in the Convent, and the illusion of being
decently dressed, while not actually signifying the substance.”
The dazed Sister really did not understand this at all. The difference between one
habit and another was completely lost on her, but she did hope that she would be allowed
another ring; her finger felt very odd without it.
Monsignor Flavin rose from his chair and came round the desk to stand beside Sister
Lucia, his hand brushing her cheek in a very familiar way. This was the first time a man
had touched her at all since she was a small child.
“I can see we will get on very well,” he said, “As long as you remember that I am
your Master now, and it is to me that you owe the obedience you formerly showed to the
Mother Superior.”
“I’ll try to obey, sir,” the nun offered.
“Good, good,” he replied, “Stand still.”
With that he lifted the winged Swiss wimple from her hair, leaving her head bare.
The dark hair, cut very short, contrasted with her fair complexion. When she had been in
the College for a while and the hair had grown, she would be very popular indeed, he
surmised.
“You must let your hair grow for a while, and then we’ll have it shaped a little,”
he said, to her utter amazement.
He moved behind her and growled in her ear, “Stand still now. Remember you must
obey.”
His hands snaked round her waist as he stood behind her, and cupped her breasts.
Immediately she broke away from his grasp and turned to face him, tears coming into her
eyes.
“Reverend Father, you must not …”
“I shall do as I please, and you will obey,” he interrupted, “You will not tell me
what I must or must not do. You will address me as Master.””
He walked back behind the desk and sat down.
“You disobeyed my order to stand still. Is that another vow you wish to abjure? I
believe the Reverend Mother explained what would happen if you failed to grasp the chance
this College offers you. You would be put out on the streets of Dublin, almost naked,
barefoot, penniless, homeless and excommunicate. Is that what you want?”
“No, Master,” she whispered.
“I imagine you believe that allowing me to touch your breasts would break your vow
of chastity?”
Sister Lucia did not reply, merely hanging her head. She knew it was a trap, if she
said no, she was condemned for disobedience, and if she said yes, she was condemned for
valuing her already broken vow of chastity above her vow of obedience to his orders.
“Answer me!”
“Master … no man has ever touched me like that,” she prevaricated, “I was …
startled.”
“Come here, beside me,” he ordered.
Sister Lucia moved round the desk, acutely aware of what was to come next.
Monsignor Flavin held out his hand, palm up, just above her waist level.
“Lean forwards until your breast rests on my hand,” he said quietly.
Sister Lucia knew that the only other choice was impossible. Thrown out on the
streets of Dublin in January with no home, money, or clothing, she would be lucky to live
through the freezing night; if she did live it would only be as the servant or toy of
some ruffian. She leant forward carefully, until her left breast was resting on his
hand.
“Better,” he said, “Go back to where you were, in front of the desk.”
Sister Lucia breathed a sigh of relief and did as she was told.
Chapter 13 – Self-Correction
Her relief was short-lived as the Monsignor took a knout from a drawer in his desk and
offered it to her.
“This is what you will use to purge yourself of any sins you may feel you have
committed, Sister. Here it replaces confession; when you believe you have purged
yourself sufficiently, you are absolved of the sins you have remembered, just as if you
had confessed them and performed the penance set by the priest,” he said.
She took the whip and looked at. She had never seen its like before, It consisted
of a tapering bundle of leather thongs about three feet long; clearly the user could
flagellate her own back with ease. Sister Lucia was not aware that this was a gentle
version of the device; more earnest penitents would use the same whip, but with each
thong twisted with wire and hardened, so that its use would mangle the flesh.
“Do you have any sins unconfessed, Sister?” came the quiet question.
“Oh yes, Master,” she replied, “You know I have.”
“Very well then. You may commence to purge them now.”
“Here? In front of you, Master?” she asked, uncertain.
“Of course, child. I need to know that you are using this scourge properly. You
have never seen one before,” it wasn’t a question.
Sister Lucia took the knout in her right hand and lashed it over her left shoulder on to
her back. She did feel it land, but it didn’t really hurt.
“Sister Lucia,” Monsignor Flavin’s voice was full of tender solicitude, “You will have to
strike much harder than that. Moreover it is a time-honoured tradition that scourging is
applied to bare flesh.”
“You mean I am to …” her voice trailed off.
“My child, I do not say this for my own satisfaction,” he lied, “but for the sake of
your immortal soul. Here at the College of Correction and Redemption we have seen many
souls at risk. Many have been saved from eternal damnation, but only by obedience and
humility. Do cease your questioning of every order you are given, my child, I beg of you,
for your soul’s sake.”
Sister Lucia hesitated for only a moment before slowly removing her habit. She had never
in her life stripped herself naked before another person, not even as a very small child.
Even her lover, Marie, had had to remove Sister Lucia’s clothes herself.
When she was naked, the Monsignor had to fight hard to control himself. This young
nun had a body that would have tempted a saint, had there been such a one remotely near
the College. Unpromising though her birth and upbringing had been, the end result was
definitely worth looking at, and more. Much as he wanted to do so, he dared not fondle
that body just yet. There was much groundwork to be done first.
Not looking at the priest, but keeping her eyes firmly on the floor in front of her,
Sister Lucia lifted the knout high again. Monsignor Flavin could not tear his eyes from
the way her right breast lofted and bounced slightly, the pink nipple rigid from cold and
embarrassment. She let fly with the knout, putting all her strength into it, and screamed
in pain as the thongs bit into the flesh of her back, the tips of several of them snapping
viciously into the soft skin of her upper buttocks. She crumpled to her knees and dropped
the knout. Never in her life had she known such pain.
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