Midnight Express to SaviorbyPhoenix Arrow©
Public Redistribution: Only for personal, nonprofit use. Short Summary: A Stripper finds herself repenting to a Nun in a lowly subway car!
Please, if you are under the age of 18, don't read this material. Just wait a few years and you'll be all good and legal for this kind of stuff. Now for the rest of you, Enjoy!
Why is she looking at me?
Can she tell? Can she see through my coat and know what I wear beneath it?
No, it's impossible.
But is it?
Gosh I sure hope it's my imagination.
But there she did it again. Yes I am sure of it now. She's judging me, I just know it.
What makes her so much better? That she can sit smugly in an empty subway car looking down at me.
I'm just as good as she is!
No, not really.
She's a Nun, a woman of the faith.
Still how can she tell I just got off work?
Is the smell of smoke and alcohol that strong?
It must be, she couldn't possibly see my outfit beneath these cloths.
But she knows, I just know it. The way she keeps looking at me from time to time, with that look of lowly pity.....and disgust.
Well what the hell does she want from me? Not everyone can be as good as she is! Not every one can be righteous and sinless. I have to pay the bills somehow.
Besides, what's it too her that I do what I do? She doesn't know the hours I put in the gym, toning my body to perfection. She doesn't know how it's like performing before a bunch of salivating men. Its hard work. Why should she care what its all for?
But she does care. She surely pity's me for using my body and not my mind. How loving of her. But that's where her love ends, I'm sure of it.
In her eyes I'm nothing but a snake, a heathen snake. She's seen right through my thick coat, into my soul and seen the stripper inside.
But what does she want me to do about it? Take off my coat? Reveal who I am with out shame? I have no shame. So what if I'm a stripper? A woman who dances nude for paying men. I'm not trying to hid a thing.
Still why do I wear the coat then? If she already knows who I am, why do I try to hid it from her? That's what she must be thinking. She probably laughs at me for hiding what I am.
I do suppose there's no use wearing it any more. She assuredly knows what I wear beneath it. No reason to hide what she must already know, that I'm a stripper.
Fine, I'll remove it. Then maybe she can shut up and stop staring at me.
Did her eyes just grow wide? Yes they did! But I thought she knew. I thought she could tell what I was already wearing. Well now she knows for sure. What other reasons could I have for wearing 5 inch heels, a micro skirt, and skin tight top? No doubt I just confirmed her suspicions of me.
Should I put the coat back on? No, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm a stripper, a shameful, shameful stripper.
Look at her, she thinks even lower of me now. I can see it in her disapproving eyes. She's no longer looking at my face, but at the spectacle I call cloths.
She detests them I can tell. No self-respecting woman would ever be caught wearing these. Only a woman who was a tramp, a slut. A woman whose only worth is as a sexual object for men to slobber over.
That's what I am and she knows it.
But what can I do about it? I am what I am.
Can't she just stop looking and leave me alone. I'll never be as good as her. I'm just a stripper, and that's all I ever will be. I'll even prove it to her. I'll strip right here and show her how I shake my tits and flaunty my hairless pussy!
No no no. This is a woman of faith. Of respect. She would never want to see my sinful displays.
But there is another look in her eyes. It's a look of compassion, of understanding.
Maybe she does want me to take off these cloths. Remove the symbols of my profession. Cast them away in hopes for something better.
Oh I so want her to accept me. To look at me in a higher light. Perhaps if I just....
The expression on her face hasn't changed yet. She has to know I just undid the clasp of my top. Does she want me to let it fall free? Why wont she let me know? Why is she only sitting there, staring at me.
I let it fall.
Nothing, just staring.
The cold night air hardening my nipples. Gosh she must think I enjoy this, that I'm a slut even here before her. But surely she knows how cold the air is? But she's looking at my left breast. I know what she see, my nipple ring. Yes, she does think I'm a slut.
I hook the tops of my skirt. Still not a change in her face.
There they go, off as well.
Gosh are those plastic seats cold.
Now will she accept me? Will this be enough?
But where is she looking now? At my thong? Take that off too? Why? I must wear something. What if someone else comes in? I can hear people in the other sub car.
But I must. I have to shed the remaining part of my filth. This woman commands it.
The black garment pools around my heels. I kick them off as well, completely exposed to this pious woman.
I resist the urge to cover my sex and breasts with my hands. She has seen through to my soul, surely she cares nothing for my sinful curves.
I can see her looking between my legs, at my shaved cunt. How disappointed she must be. Here she thought she was helping a woman, but I'm nothing but a girl. A girl with a hairless pussy. I did it for the job, where men like girls shaved. But to her I am still a little girl with a bald pussy.
But will she still help me? Will she still forgive me? I look at her face but still I see nothing. No change. Does she accept me yet? I do not know. What else must I do? I have stripped my cloths, the symbol of my degradation! What else is there to do? Can't she see the tears forming in my eyes?
Now her eyes are down cast, looking at the floor. Yes, that's what she must want. She wants me to kneel before her, to announce my repentance and beg for her acceptance.
My knees touch the cold metal of the sub car, where thousands of feet have undoubtedly stepped before. I am completely naked, presenting myself humbly to my nun, my savior.
At first I can only look down, unworthy to look at someone so superior. But finally I look up into her eyes. Nothing, no change in her face. We just continue to stare into each other's eyes.
Maybe she wants me to ask her something. Beg for her acceptance. Yes, I should beg. I open my mouth to speak.
But I can't. What if she says no? What if she rejects me and cast me away like the useless rubbish that I know I am.
I can't help it. I break down and sob.
Quickly in a desperate last attempt to save myself I lower my head to her shoes and kiss them.
Over and over I cover them in pleading kisses as tears roll down my eyes and loud sobs echo off the subway car walls.
Suddenly I feel a hand grab hold of my chin.
It is her.
She ever so gently lifts my head until we are again looking into each other's eyes.
Tears are still rolling down my face as I whisper 'Please!'
My heart leaps as she smiles and gently shakes her head. Then moves forward to kiss my forehead.
It has happened. She's finally accepted me. She no longer sees me as the slut stripper I was but as a little girl begging for forgiveness and love.
The train begins to slow as she gently lifts me to my feet and covers my naked body again with my coat.
We exit the car together, hand in hand. My purse and clothes still on the seat left behind.
I don't know where she's taking me, but it's probably to her convent. There they know how to deal with girls like me.
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