THE CONVENT SPIRITS 3

The sound of many crows shouting at once poured through the open window of the east wing dormitory; sister Mittens had discovered there nest in the early hours of the morning and decided to play with them, needless to say the birds did not wish to be played with. Sr. Winifred stretched in the warm bed and drew a deep breath of the crisp, cold morning air; Clair yawned and opened her sleepy, green eyes.

For a moment the two girls found themselves lost in one another’s gaze, till Winifred smiled gently and rose to shut the window. The cold atmosphere nipped at her bare skin, giving her goosebumps, and at once she realized with horror that she had been sleeping naked. She instantly covered her beautiful brown nipples with her hands and stood nude before Sr. Clair, who stared open mouthed at Winifred’s petite, fairylike form. Neither one had any memory of the night before and no explanation for their state.

Finally Winnie sad down, sighed and said, “I suppose … we must have been having sex …”

“Why on earth would you suppose that? Why … we probably were hot last night, why else would the window be open?” said Clair nervously.

“I never shut the wretched thing,” was Winifred’s reply.

“Well … suppose we were then … having s-sex that is … neither of us remembers a thing … so we must have done it unknowingly.”

“I suppose you are right,” Winnie said at last. Sr. Clair sat beside her and put her arm around the distressed canoness.

“Sister Hilda probably served us some bad mushrooms … that’s all.”

Clair raised Winnie’s head and looked lovingly into her deep, hazel eyes. The two nuns held each other close and played with each other’s toes. At length Sr. Clair spoke again.

“Although … the thought of it is rather romantic … we would have been scissoring, me on top and you on bottom … I would have been kissing every one of your adorable toes as we—”

“Oh stop Clair … you’re making me wet!” Sr. Winifred exclaimed as she stood up suddenly.

“Whether or not we knew what we were doing … it is obvious that we both would have enjoyed it thoroughly … as such we must go to confession.”

“I suppose you are right Winnie … but … well for me it’s nothing, I was never mother Anne’s favorite … but you … why she praises your submissive … what do you think she will do to us?”

“I cannot say … sister …”

The nuns bathed and dressed for the day, all the while eyeing one another, wondering what they would be like naked and impassioned. Soon the time for confession came, Sr. Winifred walked briskly through the cobblestone courtyard towards St. Monica’s chapel, keeping her head down as her heart throbbed with mingled guilt, lust and anticipation. At last she drew a deep breath and opened the oaken doors and stepped into the wide, echoey nave. Someone was already confessing when she arrived so she sat down in the pews and began to quietly say her rosary. Every so often she heard a low slap … slap … from the confessional, followed by the Oou … Ouch! of the penitent. The sounds brought back memories of the previous morning, she began to drip and slowly her hand reached down towards her consecrated pussy as lewd thoughts rushed into her mind. Suddenly the confessional opened. Winifred gasped and stopped as out walked Sr. Clair, who quietly said: “we’re in for it this time sis” as they passed each other.

Sr. Winifred entered the confessional, crossed herself and began.

“Bless me mother for I have sinned, it has been three days since my last confession, these are my sins: this Sunday during mass I was tempted by an incubus from hell … and enjoyed it … that evening I and my sister pleasured ourselves … carnally … I am truly sorry for these and all the sins of my past life.”

Mo. Anne removed her glasses and stood silent a moment before saying, “My daughter, because you have given into your lusts and defiled your sister’s holy virginity I have no choice but to grant you the deepest penance I know … for the salvation of your soul -the almighty and merciful Lord grant you pardon and forgiveness of all your sins- you will wait here in the chapel.”

“Yes mother … Amen.”

Winifred went and knelt before the altar. She could hear Mo. Anne’s heels clacking against the stone floor as she left. The candles flickered and gave a sweet aroma to the cold chapel, Sr. Clair slouched in the front pews boredly and Winnie kept silent, meditating on her sins and wondering what penance the prioress had in store for them. Soon later she heard the clacking of heels echo once more through the nave.

Mo. Anne had come with two others, Sr. Catherine, a tall, black haired deaconess, and Sr. Elizabeth, a young, blonde acolyte who grew up in the abbey. Anne herself was a stern, pear shaped woman who was remarkably well preserved for her age in all except for her silver hair and her weak eyesight.

She brought the nervous sisters into a low room in one of the west wing towers near the abbey gates. There was a large bed with stocks at the end, a window overlooking the vast, forested landscape outside and large, oak chest. Sr. Elizabeth closed the door behind them and the moment they were alone Mo. Anne spoke:

“Sisters … the time of your penance is here … strip them.”

Winifred and Claire were stripped to their undergarments and bound upright on the bed, their feet placed in the stocks. Mo. Anne stooped to uncover Winnie’s tiny bare feet.

“Hmmm … plain grey polish … how modest of you sister,” she said, and gently brushed her nervous arches as she moved to Clair.

“T-thank you m-mother …” was the response.

But after pulling off Clair’s warm socks the prioress exclaimed, “a French pedicure? What excess! You really do disdain our order don’t you sister Clair? Girls, punish these shameless soles, one swat for every disobedient toe. And do not neglect sister Winifred for keeping her little secret!”

Sr. Catherine opened the chest to reveal a thin reed with which she struck the girl’s feet, once, twice, all the way till ten. By the end their pink soles were stinging acutely and a subtle sensation was building between their legs. Sr.’s Catherine and Elizabeth then knelt before the two girls’ feet and gently began to run their fingers over the bare arches. Winnie immediately erupted into fits of laughter, Clair tried to keep it in but soon Sr. Catherine wriggled one of her long fingers in between Clair’s toes and she could no longer resist.

Light, horribly sensitive sensations danced across their poor feet until at last they began to drip. Winifred especially felt every stroke of finger, brush or feather against her bare feet send electric pulses of pleasure which ran down her legs, impacting directly on her clit like lightning and reverberate through the walls of her pussy. Clair’s weakness had been discovered, and now Sr. Catherine sadistically focused every effort on her squirming toes, ordering her to spread them out while she traced in between each one.

Then, through the screams and fits of laughter, a darkness fell on the room. The orange moon rose on the horizon and a cold wind blew through the tower. Then Clair and Winifred saw towards the back of the room, a specter. It had the form of a man but an appearance like fog, illuminated by the rising moon. It climbed through the window and stood behind the prioress and her pawns and smiled. The ghost was handsome, tall and clean shaven, with a cock that stood erect and dripping as he stroked it, pleasured by the sight. The tortured nuns were hysterical with fear and tried to tell their prioress, but between the pleas for mercy and the uncontrollable laughter Mo. Anne would not hear them.

Soon the sight of stiff, dripping cock made Clair’s pussy throb with excitement, Winifred too was overtaken by lust. She knew she wanted him in her as she writhed and squirmed under her penance. Lewd thoughts came streaming into their minds, visions of themselves the night before, Winnie on her back as the specter before them thrust inside her, Clair kissing her possessed lips while the handsome apparition railed her pussy from behind. Sr. Winifred’s eyes rolled back and Clair threw her head back and grunted.

The tortured nuns found themselves lost in a dark, highly sensitive world of the mind. Nothing around but the two manic sisters and their spectral lover. Winifred was on her back, her mouth filled with a large, warm, loose object, the taste of which seemed to make her whole body surge with pleasure. Clair was stretched on top of her, their legs overlapping as their clits rubbed together, she was sucking on a long, salty shaft.

The ends of their feet burned with a hellish sensation that seemed to spur them on to deeper and deeper levels of lust and pleasure. As their feet writhed under their well deserved punishment their pussies squirmed against each other in the dark vision. Before long they realized that they were sucking on the specter’s cock and balls. The thought brought untold joy to the girls, Winnie swirled the two rolling testicles with her tongue, moaning into them as she gently stroked, Clair immediately began to thrust deep onto the phantom’s penis, feeling the tip slide down her throat and tickle all her nerves.

Nothing seemed more important at that moment than worshiping this spirit’s genitals. They longed to hold them in their mouths, worshiping forever as their pussies ground together. The sensations in their feet briefly stopped and the girls began to come to, but then a painful, burning feeling poured over their poor toes. Sr. Elizabeth was rubbing their soles with holy oil. The possessed sisters begged and squirmed but soon the tickling returned, and worse than ever as two hairbrushes were placed against their arches.

“Oh that must be hell sisters,” said Mo. Anne, “I can hear those bristles scratching against your penitent soles!”

A moment later and everything came to a halt. The specter disappeared through the window, leaving no trace, the fiery tickling ceased and the laughter diminished as the door to the room slowly opened. Mo. Faustina, the abbess, entered.

“It is a bit late for your penance-games, Mother Anne.”

“Mother Superior … we were just wrapping up,” said Anne bashfully.

“Very well … I’m not surprised you’re here sister Clair … but you sister Winifred? Oh well, it doesn’t really matter … the Lord accept your prayers and absolve you from your offences.”

And all said, ‘Amen’.

THE END OF CHAPTER THREE