I knelt on the hard, stone floor, a rosary wrapped around my hand as I spoke softly, hushed Hail Mary’s as I slid one bead, then another. Each prayer moved a bead, each bead taking me a step closer to salvation. I focused on a spot on the floor just in front of me, the stone jutting up in just such a way to make a slight shadow, contrast against the otherwise grey.

The door opened behind me and I heard the hushed plea of the Mother Superior. “Please, Father, she has been praying of sixteen hours. Surely she has found redemption.”

There was no reply. I hadn’t expected one, nor had I expected an early pardon from the punishment still to come. Other nuns moved to stand on either side of me, eyes not focusing on me, but near me, waiting on commands.

“Remove her robe”

They obeyed, each moving to gather a shoulder of the black robe that covered me, exposing me completely to the room for a few moments before a wool blanket was placed in my arms. A leather wrapped rod was held before my lips and I opened my mouth enough to feel it press back, against each side of my mouth.

“Bite down.” A whispered, worried voice. I obliged.

The room was perfectly silent, my heartbeat was all I could hear as I waited, inhaling through my nose as the scent of leather rose around me.

A hiss in the air was all the warning I received before the impact of pain seared through my back. Hot, harsh, jolting pain that made me jump. My hand tightened around the rosary, knuckles going white as the beads bit into my palm. Yet no sound slipped from me as I knelt patiently on the floor, waiting for the next.

It came, cutting into the skin on my back and causing my entire body to tense as the pain lashed through me, echoing up and over my spine, radiating out as I bit harder on the leather rod. I could taste it now, sharp and supple as my tongue moved over it. I wanted to turn the rod, to move it to a more gratifying position, but I knew that would gain me more punishment.

Another crack against my back, but this one caused me to moan with the sensation. Still painful, still achingly sharp on my back before it tingled over me, settling between my thighs and creating a heat that contrasted with the coolness of the air.

Another. I felt my nipples harden, pressing into the scratching wool of the blanket as I found to keep the need from welling up inside of me, fought to put a look of pain on my face. The pain sang over my nerves, bringing life to them and reaching the core of me.

Again. Moisture began to replace the heat between my thighs as I closed my eyes, pressing them so tightly closed that I could pretend that I wasn’t surrounded by the group of nuns. I hadn’t been on my knees for hours seeking forgiveness for a sin I would commit again and again. I was far from the cloister, far from the forgiveness I sought.

I lost count after that, each sharp crack of the cane along my back, buttocks and thighs creating the worst pain imaginable, followed by the need for more, the craving to feel deeper things, forbidden things. I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, slick between my thighs, and panting hard when I felt the comforting softness of the robe slip back onto my shoulders.

The nuns on each side of me lifted by the shoulder and brought me to my feet. If not for their support, I would not have stayed there, my legs cramped and numb from kneeling for so long. New sharp shards of pain echoed through my calves as blood flow finally returned. The limping helped with the charade that I was properly punished and repentant.

I was deposited into my room. I had enough strength to lift a hand and pull the habit from my head, letting it drop to the floor as I shifted my shoulders and felt the robe slide from me. I shuddered at the sensation of my long hair flowing over the ache of my skin. I exhaled as I fell to the twin sized bed, face first, and felt my breasts crushed beneath my body weight. The air of the room caressed the welts on my back, chilled the moisture between my thighs, and softly held me as I closed my eyes, hoping for sleep.

I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes when I heard the door open, but rather remained on the bed, my rosary still gripped in my hand as I smiled at what sins I would discover tonight.

Who chooses right from wrong? Who determines an ethical dilemma versus an ethical lapse?

Okay, it might be a stretch for Civil War day, but I wasn't interested in war. Let's make love instead. Forbidden and sacrilegious, if you're brave enough.

Limits: Animals, vore, scat, and other bathroom activities.

Kinks: Corrupting the religious, punishment, and crucifixes.

Yes, I'm aware I need Jesus. Are you aware of how much?