The First Book of the Merciful Nun

"Some of your visitors will want to finger you over this chair," he explained, "I don't want you being disobedient to any of them. Some may want to punish you over this chair, or even enter you. Some will want to use this hole also. Of course, most of them will want to play with you on the bed," he explained, "But I thought you should be told of all the variations."

As he left her new accommodation, Monsignor Flavin said, "By the way, the Bishop will call to see you in an hour or so. He has expressed a wish that you wear your habit for the meeting, but be naked beneath it. Apparently he has always fantasised about taking advantage of an innocent nun, so you could, perhaps, help him by appearing a little reluctant?"

After he had left, she looked in the drawers of the dressing table. As she expected there was a knout there, but she was surprised to see handcuffs, and various lengths of soft rope, and more puzzlingly, a statue of a man's penis which was rather larger than Monsignor Flavin's. A whippy cane, such as she had not felt since her school days completed the inventory.

In the wardrobe were three outfits. One was a dress such as her mother might have worn, the second was a longer dress which would reach the floor if she wore it, but which seemed to be missing its upper section. There was nothing to go over her arms and shoulders, and at the back it would scarcely come higher than her waist. The third one puzzled her the most. It was black, but very thin. The skirt was only a few inches deep; the blouse was even thinner than the skirt and she could clearly see her hand, even through two layers of it. There was a tiny white lace edged apron to go with it.

In the wardrobe drawer she found some thin silk drawers, and some stockings. These also were silk and had garters apparently sewn on to them. They too were very thin, and she thought they would be no good to keep her warm. Then the penny dropped and she blushed. Wearing the blouse, the short skirt, the little apron and the stockings, she would be completely dressed, while at the same time every detail of her body would be visible to anyone else in the room. These were a harlot's clothes.

***

Chapter 17 The Bishop

An hour later she still waited in her new room for the Bishop to arrive. She was full of trepidation, but convinced that she knew what was expected of her. The Bishop would want to touch her, and to have her suck his male organ, as Monsignor Flavin did. What she wondered was whether she could do it with a different man, and one as important as the Bishop. At least if her nerves were bad, he would see the reluctance he had asked for.

Afterwards, Molly expected, he would want to punish her, and she felt her nipples rise at the thought. She sat quite still, dressed in her Swiss wimple and her habit, but without anything beneath it.

The door opened and the Bishop walked in, closing it behind him. Molly was surprised to see him in a suit such as Monsignor Flavin usually wore, then realised that the only times she had seen him previously had been church ceremonial, when he would naturally have been wearing robes and a mitre. Suddenly she felt much happier about the next few hours; this wasn't a distant exalted figure, this was just an old man who was a friend of the Monsignor, and was no more frightening than he.

The Bishop took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door, looked round him, and sat on the bed at the foot end. Molly smiled at him, remained standing and waited quietly; she knew it was not her place to speak first.

"Good afternoon, my child," he said, "That was a lovely smile. I hope you will cooperate without causing a fuss. Now please remove your wimple."

"Is that proper, Sir?" she asked, beginning to get into the 'reluctance' game.

"It is an order, my child; do not question my orders or I shall have to punish you."

Slowly and carefully, she removed her wimple and shook out her hair.

'Monsignor Flavin was quite right,' the Bishop thought, 'Her hair looks much nicer kept rather longer than the Convent would allow. The dark chestnut colouring shows off her fair skin nicely. I wonder if the rest of her is milk white, or if she has freckles?'

"Come and sit beside me, my child," he said, patting the bed.

Slowly and apparently hesitantly she sat as far away from him as she could.

"Nearer to me," he coaxed.

She moved next to him and he put an avuncular arm round her shoulders.

"Monsignor Flavin tells me that you are to take part in our arrangements to help priests in difficulties?" he asked.

She dropped her eyes and blushed as she whispered, "Yes, Sir."

Pulling her gently towards him, he cupped her breast gently with his other hand. She dabbed ineffectually at it, as though trying to push it away.

"Reluctant, my child? Or did the good Monsignor indicate that I would like that?"

She nodded, ambiguously, reasoning that he could take it as he wished; both were true.

"Very well," he said, releasing her, "Stand up and take that habit off. I wish to make sure that you can help a priest properly and adequately."

Realising that the time for both sham and real reluctance was over, she did as she was told, folding the garment carefully and putting it aside. The Bishop could scarcely believe his eyes as he watched her moving. The slight bounce of her breasts and the wonderfully curved bottom were, in his professional opinion, enough to tempt a saint. Certainly his manhood sprang to attention as the habit was lifted over her head, revealing that she was nude beneath it.

When she had folded the habit, Molly walked and stood as she had been taught, immediately in front of the Bishop, and well within arm's length. He reached out almost reverentially and stroked her hip. When she didn't move, his hand trailed across to her mons, with its sparse covering of dark brown hair. Again she made no move, since Monsignor Flavin always told her what he wanted.

"Do you not open for me?" asked the Bishop.

"Of course, Sir," she said, widening her knees to allow his hand to slip between her thighs, "but the Master always tells me what to do, and doesn't like me to do things unless he tells me. He says it is disobedient for me to do what I want."

"He is quite right, my child. Please sit on my knee."

As she did so, one hand went round her back and grasped her breast, pulling her to him. The other hand turned her head gently and he kissed her lips, pushing his tongue at her. Puzzled, she allowed it to enter her mouth, but did not respond. His free hand dropped into her lap and she readily opened her thighs to allow his exploring fingers into her crack.

Breaking off the kiss, he asked, "Has nobody taught you to kiss? I thought you and one of the Novices ..."

"I've never kissed anyone like that before, Sir. I am an obedient child. I will do whatever you tell me."

He was about to follow this up when he realised that his questing fingers had come up against an intact hymen.

"What, exactly, do you and Monsignor Flavin do? Tell me everything, my child," he ordered.

Molly blushed very prettily, he thought as she whispered, "We touch each other until I shudder, and then I help him to empty himself, Sir."

Clearly the Monsignor had not included Anglo-Saxon terminology in his teachings.

"And how do you help him to do that, my child? With your hand?"

"Yes, Sir, at first. Then with my mouth."

The Bishop seriously thought he would have a spontaneous emission for the first time in forty years as she said that, and he had a mental picture of this virgin nun, in her habit, kneeling before the Monsignor, sucking his prick as an act of devotion. Not for the first time, he was glad he had chosen the Church as a career, and even more glad that he was not burdened with the weight of any particular beliefs or scruples.

"Neither he, nor any other man has emptied himself where my hand is now?" he pressed her.

She looked astonished as she said, "Oh, no, Sir. That would be mortal sin, to do that."

This presented the Bishop with a problem. Would the young nun satisfy the randier clergy, and help avoid scandals with parishioners, if all she would give was a blow job? There was a more pressing problem. How was he to fuck this virgin if she was convinced that she should not let anyone have her?

Still exciting her vagina with his finger, and stroking her clitoris absent-mindedly, he pondered this problem. He scarcely noticed her moans getting louder until he realised she was about to fall off his knee. Taking his hand away from her eager body, he lifted her off his knee and deposited her on the bed, where she lay on her back with her knees wide apart. He applied himself to exciting her further, and his success was measured, in his own mind at least, by her legs lifting off the bed and her toes stretching up to point high in the air. He paused long enough for her to start to come down from the brink of an orgasm and she chuckled throatily as she realised what he was doing. Each time, he started again until she was on the brink, and then paused again. The fourth time he paused he was too late, and she threshed about on the bed and screamed in the frenzy of her orgasm.

When she had calmed she sat up and said what was obviously a well-coached line, "I was naughty, wasn't I, when I shuddered?"

'I've never heard it called that before,' he thought, smiling inwardly, 'but she certainly does tremble and shudder as she comes.'

"Yes, my child, you were," he replied, not wanting to upset the routine.

Then he tried the stratagem he had thought up to get past her vows.

"What is the ring you wear?" he asked.

"It signifies my vows, and that I am a Bride of Christ and cannot ever marry a man," she replied, wondering why the Bishop, who had presided at the profession of vows of several of the nuns, did not know this.

"Yes, my child, and I am Christ's representative in this diocese, so I have the privilege of representing him at the consummation of his relationship with his brides. Did the Mother Superior not explain this?"

"No, Sir."

She looked very, very doubtful. That cheered him up; she hadn't dismissed his argument for the clap-trap it was. The advantages of a diocese full of ignorant young women never ceased to please him, even though preferment to Archbishop had passed him by the previous year when a much younger man had been appointed. He removed his trousers quickly and stood before her clad in shirt and socks.

"Well it is so. Now I order you to lie down again, and open and lift your legs as you were before."

This was the moment of truth. If she obeyed, he was in, and so were all the priests who wanted her. There was an urgent need as the previous Merciful Nun was now seven months pregnant and if nothing was done soon there would be scandals of the first order in some parishes.

He was much relieved to see her sink on the bed and dutifully open herself. The inner labia were glistening from her orgasm, so he need not waste time on foreplay or lubrication. He lowered himself between her legs, brought the head of his penis to the mouth of her vagina and pushed, hard.

In he went, to the hilt in a single stroke, and he wondered if he had been mistaken about her maidenhead. Her screams he took as his due, either for the pain or for the pleasure he was bringing her. Gathering himself he pumped vigorously in and out of her hot tight entrance for almost a minute before his penis exploded in an orgasm of mind-shattering intensity.

As his manhood shrivelled, he rolled off her and heard her whimpering, "No, please, no, no."

He noted with satisfaction the blood on her thighs, and he wiped his penis on the nearest thing to hand, which was the hem of her habit.

When she had recovered her composure, she saw him standing over her, with his trousers on again. Suddenly she burst into tears, and he had a grave foreboding of trouble ahead. He resolved to bully and bluster his way out of it.

"Stop crying and tell me; what is the matter?" he snapped.

"I was very naughty, wasn't I? I said 'no' when you stopped. I just wanted to go on and on, and that was thinking of myself first," she sobbed.

"That is true, my child," he replied, trying not to let the relief sound in his voice.

"And so you will punish me a lot, won't you? At least twelve strokes of the knout?" she asked.

The Bishop had not had two erections in one day for years, but he could have hung weights on it at this moment. The woman was asking him to flog her with a flail!

"At least," he replied, remembering, and now understanding, why Monsignor Flavin had asked him not to damage her.

***

Chapter 18 Punishment

Molly rose naked from the bed, watched closely by the Bishop as her movements made her breasts move in interesting and arousing ways. She then knelt beside the bed with her torso resting on the mattress and her back and buttocks perfectly presented for punishment.

For some moments the Bishop surveyed the bare flesh of his victim and tried to decide where and how to inflict the maximum of pain with the minimum of damage. He knew Monsignor Flavin needed to press this Merciful Nun into regular service very soon, so she must not be harmed by him. Nevertheless he intended to enjoy himself as fully as may be, and planning the pain was almost as pleasant as inflicting it.

She flinched as his hand rested on the shoulder-blade for a moment before tracing the line of her spine downwards until it rested on her buttock. The sensation of her warm skin and the palpable shiver of fear under his hand was very pleasant, the Bishop thought. Then he lifted the hand away from the oh-so-tempting flesh and determined that he must scourge this temptation from his mind. Naturally the physical scourging would be of her flesh, rather than his own, since it was her flesh which tempted him.

He looked again at the curve of her buttocks and marvelled at the smooth skin of her lower back. Presented like this, with the breasts and face hidden in the mattress, it could be the back and bottom of a fifteen year old girl. The thought made him even harder and he determined that her punishment for tempting him thus would be made appropriate for the temptress; a young woman might be scourged with a knout for tempting him with her smile and breasts, and orgasms, but young girls who were naughty were spanked with the bare hand.

SLAP!

Barely had the decision been made than he found his hand moving swiftly through the air and into contact with that delicious curving bare arse. The imprint of his hand was red on the white flesh as he lifted it high in the air.

Molly cried out at the blow, more in surprise than pain. She had been preparing herself for the multiple strands of the knout landing the bare flesh of her buttocks. There would have been some warning from the sound of the instrument as it tore through the air on the downward stroke, but his hand had made no noise at all.

SLAP!

The second blow made a similar mark on the other cheek.

'If he is just going to spank me, then that isn't much of a punishment,' she thought, remembering the spankings she had endured as a child.

SLAP!

SLAP!

SLAP!

SLAP!

Spanking this behind was not very satisfying after a few blows, the Bishop found. The woman was not crying as a child would cry, but rather enduring a punishment which, while not pleasant, was not too painful to suffer in silence. Since she insisted on being a woman, he would treat her as such. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn to the dressing table drawer and take up the knout. Deep down, Molly knew she was sinful and needed to be punished, and now she felt a rising excitement as the moment approached.

The multiple strands of the knout whistled through the air and landed exactly where he planned, close together on the fleshy upper edge of her buttocks. The skin turned deep red as the air was filled with the loudest scream of pain she had managed to emit that day.

Time and again the knout fell until Molly could scream no more and her throat felt as sore as her private parts. Finally the Bishop stopped and surveyed his handiwork. Her back, bum and upper thighs were red raw, but he noted to his satisfaction that the skin was not broken once. Then he saw that the mattress beneath the woman was wet, and he realised that this was a mixture of his semen and her excitement.

Unable to resist any longer, the Bishop fairly tore his trousers off and plunged deep into the sobbing woman's body. His weight and the chafing of his clothing on her bruised and smarting flesh caused a fresh outburst of pitiful cries, which inflamed him the more. Her private parts were also very sore from his first defloration of her, and added to her general pain and discomfort. He pumped in and out of her vagina dementedly, quickly releasing his second emission of semen deep into her body.

After the Bishop left, Molly remained face down on the bed for some minutes. Eventually she dragged herself to her feet and had a long bath, which felt sinful, but, she reasoned, everything which happened in this room was becase she was Molly, whose very nature was sinful.

'Sister Lucia,' she remind herself, 'has no reason to feel guilty about anything Molly does.'

After her bath, she dressed quickly in her habit, with underwear, and went out into the corridor and was, once again, Sister Lucia. She made her way to her own cell and there she spent more than two hours on her knees praying for Molly's immortal soul. The split in her own mind between the two personalities was now almost complete.

***

Chapter 19 Visitor

For the next three days life followed its usual routine. Sister Lucia rose early, said her own Divine Offices at the appointed hours, washed, ate her meals, and spent the rest of her time in silent prayer and contemplation. Almost every day she visited Monsignor Flavin whose use of her had not changed. In many ways she was, she supposed, happier here, without any distractions, than she had been in the Convent.

On the fourth morning after the Bishop's visit, with Molly firmly hidden in the back of her mind, Monsignor Flavin again came to Sister Lucia's cell and informed her that a visitor would be with her in an hour. He escorted her to Molly's room where he had her strip before him so that he could check that her back was completely recovered from the Bishop's attentions. He also thrust two fingers into her private parts and seemed satisfied that she did not wince at the intrusion. His next order was for her to kneel and suck him, swallowing his offering. As she rose, still naked, from performing this duty, Molly was in total control, and noticed that she was wet and ready between her legs.

"What shall I wear, Master?" she asked, with more assurance and willingness than he had noticed previously.

"Oh, the clothes are there on the bed," he said, and left her alone.

He would have preferred to stay and watch this lovely creature dress herself in the simple clothes he had laid out for her, brassière and drawers in plain white cotton, a thin slip and a respectable woman's dress. As he went back to his room he hoped that this visit would pass off well, as on the success of this depended the rest of her time here. He had no other 'student' in the College, or in view, who was anywhere near ready to entertain the randy priests who were his clientele, and Gertrude, her heavily pregnant predecessor, was about to return to the Convent whence she came.

Molly went into the bathroom and washed, being careful not to excite herself too much in the process. It would never do if she shuddered before the visitor came. She was feeling both trepidation and excitement. Trepidation that she might not please the visitor, and excitement that she was to help this man with his problems. She dressed quickly and sat quietly waiting, her thoughts untroubled by any worries about the morality of her actions. Molly knew that Sister Lucia would take care of that aspect for her, later.