The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission in 43 chapters

[Eulalia]

Sassi, love the story and its pacing. If English is not your native language, I am even more impressed. Looking forward to more.

As a newbie here, I must say your depiction of the "grooming" by Siste Zita is deadly accurate. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse by a sexual sadist (from ages 8 thru 12) so I can verify both the the "kind, helpful friend" approach and the strict "perfection" discipline approach. It also rings true how Christa develops a submissive attitude in the face of the dominant behavior of Sister Zita. The same happened to me. Well Done!

I am curious. I have never been crucified nor been present at a crucifixion, but am interested in having the actual experience. Your details describing the pain of crucifixion feels very realistic, have you had the actual experience yourself or talk to the those who have?
Also, are you interested in receiving detailed feedback (i.e., critique) of the story? I am not a writer myself, but would be happy to provde it where I can.

Finally, an entirely selfish request to anyone reading this post. If you live anywhere in the United States, and have personally experienced a crucifixion or attended one, I would love talk with you via private message. I would like to find a active crucifixion group in the U.S. and join it. Right now, I am thinking through a safe method of self-crucifixion, having done many years of self-bondage. I did see thread about self-crucifixion here, but would appreciate any additional information you can give.

Well, so much for a first post. Hopefully many more to come. The cruxforum is impressive. Hats off to the Admin people.

Thanks for those words WXYZ13 - for your readiness to speak about your own dark experience
(I know you aren't alone here, there are others who've been through such things, or other trauma),
and for the compliment - we staff love the Forums and do all we can to make them a good place to be,
but the lively, friendly community you've found here is created by a whole lot of wonderful members
contributing and sharing their kinky enthusiasm!

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 24

Later, they went to church together and knelt in front of the cross to pray. Christa still had her hands tied behind her back. She knelt behind Sister Zita and dutifully addressed the prayers she had mastered.
After that did the nun remove her handcuffs. But not for long.

In the evening sister Zita took Christa to her room. There the nun took a rope out of her robe. Christa knew the rope. It was the rope with which the sister always tied her hands behind her back.
"Take your clothes off, girl!" ordered the nurse. Christa obeyed without contradiction. She pulled her simple summer dress over her head and hung it over a chair back. Naked, she stood in front of sister Zita.

"Turn around!" the nun demanded. "Cross your wrists behind your back!"
Obediently, Christa gave her arms back and crossed her wrists so that sister Zita could tie her up. How did she love this procedure! It was a great feeling to be tied up by the sister. She held reverently while her wrists were wrapped in rope. Sister Zita pulled the rope once between her wrists each time she tied her hands behind her back before making a finishing knot to make sure the girl could not free herself.

Not that Christa would have wanted. She loved it so much to be tied up. She did not want to be free. She wanted to be a defenseless prisoner of the sister, helplessly exposed to the whims of the nun. She wanted to be subjected. She wanted to submit.
Force me, Sister Zita, she thought with a pounding heart. Force me to surrender to you! You can demand everything from me!

After Christa was handcuffed, Sister Zita picked her up as if she were no more than a small child and carried her to the wide bed and laid her on it. Christa's heart beat faster. Like Mrs. Riefer! She thought. Just like Mrs. Riefer!
With one important difference: she was tied up! Oh, wonderful feeling!

Lying on the bed, Christa watched as Sister Zita undressed. She removed the veil and the nun's robe. She wore no underwear. Naked she stood in the middle of the room and looked down at Christa. Her intime parts were freshly shaved.

She looks like I imagined, Christa thought.
The nun was tall and sturdy. She was massive and broad, with the figure of a wrestler. She was massive but not fat. She had a bulging pelvis and big breasts that did not hang down a bit even though the woman was over forty.

Only in one Christa had guessed wrong: The nun had no long hair, which was braided into a braid. Sister Zita's hair was relatively short. She wore it, just like Christa, to a pageboy. The hair was just down to the shoulders. Christa's hair was black. That of sister Zita had a nut-brown color.

Christa saw the little piercing in the nun's lap flashing.
A nun with piercing, she thought to herself. I did not think that there was such a thing.
But hadn´t sister Zita talked of a ritual puncture of femininity? Christa could imagine how the sister lay with her legs spread on her back and let the piercing pierced by a colleague without anesthesia, so that she could really feel the pain. She herself had even done her piercing without anesthesia. And how she had enjoyed the sharp piercing pain that had shot through her lap!

Christa calmly looked up at the nun. She lay naked and tied up on the wide bed. She could do nothing but wait and see what sister Zita would do to her. She was ready for anything.

"Penitential girl!" said Sister Zita softly. Her eyes lit a fire as she looked at Christa's naked body. "Sweet little penitential girl!" She stepped closer and reached between Christa's legs. Very slowly, she let her right hand run along the inside of Christas right thigh, all the way down to the ankle. "You pretty barefoot cross-girl!" Whispered the sister. She raised Christa's right foot and kissed the sole. Then she kissed each toe's bottom one by one. Finally, she pressed Christa's bare foot into her lap and leaned against it.

"Brave barefoot penitent girl! Little barefoot princess! So humble and obedient! So dear! So naked! So beautiful! So sweet!" She pushed her cunt against Christas bare sole and rubbed against it.
Christa looked up at her ruler. She bent her toes, fondling the woman's cunt with it. Sister Zita groaned. Now Christa stroked and rubbed of her own accord with her bare foot sister Zitas cunt. Within half a minute, the nurse was slick and swollen down there.

She rode Christas foot with slow swinging movements of the pelvis and groaned.
"Dear little penitential girl," she gasped. "You sweet little one! Oh, how are you cute!"
Suddenly she took Christa's foot away. She lay down next to her in bed and began stroking her everywhere.
"My sweet little cross-girl," she said, stroking Christa's breasts. "What sweet breasts you have! What beautiful round hips! What a sweet little pussy!" She put her hand to Christa´s crotch and grabbed tight.

"Oh how are you so wet, my kitten!" Sister Zita masturbated Christa as she leaned over her and kissed her on the mouth. "What sweet lips you have, penitent, you! How cute you are!" Her movements became more energetic. She grabbed vigorously. She grabbed Christa everywhere.
Christa liked that. She gave herself up without resistance. She fully submitted to Sister Zita's desire. She liked being dominated by the bossy, powerful woman.

Sister Zita's fingers penetrated deep into Christa. They squeezed and rubbed. They slipped in and out. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow. But always bossy and rude. Always demanding and taking.
Christa began to sigh and groan under the firm hands of her controller.

"Penitentiary girl!", the sister gasped and kissed Christa wildly on the mouth while she worked her pussy with a hard hand. Christa passed away with pleasure. She gave herself up. Make with me what you want, sister! Take what you want! I give myself to you! Oh sister! Oooh sister!

She lolled under the big strong hands of the sister. She squirmed with pleasure. She was more than happy to be led into forced orgasm. When she came, she yelled sister's Zita's name and she burst into tears.

The nurse embraced her and hugged her tightly. She kissed Christa's face and her mouth. "Penitent girl! My little obedient penitent girl! I want you! I want to keep you as my little obedient slave! I want to capture you and never release you!"

Yes. Yes! Christa thought. Do it, sister! Make me your slave! I submit to you! You can freely dispose of me! Oh yes!

Sister Zita came over her. She came astride her face and pressed her hot and wet cunt in Christa´s face.
"Serve me, penitent girl!" She commanded in a commanding voice. "Come on! Lick me!"
Christa obeyed. Diligently she let her tongue play in Sister Zita's wet furrow. Full of contentment, she listened to the suppressed pleasurable sounds of the woman.

The nurse put her fingers in Christa's hair and gave her her pelvis.
"Yes. Yes! ", she gasped. "Oooh, you sweet little penitential girl! My little barefoot princess! What are you so cute! I can not let you go, you hear? I will keep you! I want you to become my obedient slave girl! I will crucify you every day and take you to my bed every night!"

Yes! Christa thought. Do it! Make me your slave, sister! Force me! I will not fight back! I will obey you unconditionally! For real!
She licked and kissed eagerly and listened to the whimpering and wheezing of the strong woman, forcing her to satisfy her. She felt humiliated and carried on hands at the same time. She loved sister Zita for her severity.

When the nurse came, she squeezed Christa's cheeks with her thighs. She squirmed and gasped over Christa. She let out small cries. Then she collapsed over Christa and rolled away from her. She hugged Christa and covered her face and breasts with kisses.
"My sweet little penitential girl!" she stammered. "My cross girl! My sweet little barefoot princess!" She held Christa by the arms. "I want to keep you, Christa! I want you to never leave! "

If you ask, I'll stay, Christa thought. You just have to order it. Then I obey! I do everything you want, sister!
At that moment, she did not think Sister Zita's wish was wishful thinking. In a few weeks, the other nuns would return to the convent and it would be over with Christa's gorgeous slave girl life.
But she did not want to think about that at the Moment.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 25

April 28, 2080:
The next morning, Christa awoke naked in a foreign bed with her hands tied behind her back. That was truly remarkable. She slept nude often, she loved that, but she had rarely woken up in a foreign bed in her life, and certainly never with hands tied behind her back.
She thought it was really exciting.

It did not last long. Sister Zita took her bondage off and sent her to one of the two bathrooms in the hallway. Christa made her morning toilet and came back to sister Zita in a fresh summer dress (in which she looked like an orphan girl in prison attire).

The nun had meanwhile prepared a breakfast. They had breakfast together. Afterwards, sister Zita took Christa to the monastery church. They knelt before the great crucifix and prayed. This time Christa had to kneel at the front and the sister knelt behind her.
Christa constantly looked at the lifelike body of Christ on the cross. Once her eyes fell on a small chrome bell on a small pedestal on the left hand. Christa and Sister Zita were reflected in the spotless bell and Christa saw that the nun was constantly looking at her bare feet. Yesterday I looked at her bare soles, today she looks at mine, she thought.

After praying, the two stood up. Christa was still looking to the cross.
"Do you like the crucifix?" Sister Zita stood next to Christa. "It's a nice cross. The body is created lifelike. However, the nailing of the hands is misrepresented. This is the case with almost all Christ representations."
"I know," said Christa. "The Jesus figure is nailed through the palms of his hands. That is not correct. If one were to nail a person by the palms of the hands on the horizontal crossbar, the hands could be torn open. In fact, the nails have been driven through the wrists."

"You are well informed," praised the sister. "However, it does not necessarily have to be the wrist." She grabbed Christa's right hand and turned her around, palm up. She pressed with her index finger on a point between the palm of your hand, where two lines crossed: "You can drive through the nails here, too. There is a tight band around the hand at this point. If you hit a nail through at this point, then the nailing will hold the body weight. It works, believe me."

Sister Zita gave Christa a little slap on the butt: "Talked enough! Now you are sweeping the church while I look at our monastery garden. I have to look for the vegetable shoots."She gave Christa a broom and left her alone.
Christa started to sweep out the church.

When she finished, Sister Zita came back and checked her work. Christa was already waiting for the nun to find something wrong at her work. She was not wrong. Sister Zita criticized a place just next to the entrance portal and ordered Christa to go to the Zita-chapel. There she led the girl into the next room.

Christa swallowed.
Oh God, she will not whip me to punishment!? Please do not!
Sister Zita took a padded stool and placed it under the chain that hung from the ceiling. She tied Christa´s hands behind her back and ordered her to kneel in front of the stool and lay her upper body on it. Christa obeyed.

The nurse tied an extra rope to Christa's handcuff and attached it to the the iron chain. Then she went to the crank on the wall and began to crank. The chain tightened and Christa's arms were pulled up. As a result, her upper body was pressed firmly on the stool. The nurse cranked until Christa's arms had pulled up painfully.

Then she went to Christa. She lifted the girl's skirt and laid it on Christas back. Now her bare butt was free. Sister Zita took the stick out of her robe.
"You´ll get twenty punches on your bare bottom as a punishment," she announced sternly. "You'll count aloud, girl! Do you understand?"
"Yes, sister," Christa replied bravely.

The sister stood sideways behind Christa. She took off and struck firmly on Christa's buttocks. There was a loud crack as the stick slapped the bare skin. Christa gasped loudly.
"One!" she gasped through her clenched teeth.
The next blow followed immediately, more firmly than the first.
"Two!" gasped Christa.

Sister Zita continued to beat her. Christa counted the blows with gasps. At some point, she burst into tears and she counted the blows, sobbing loudly. Blow by blow followed.
Christa sobbed loudly. It hurt terribly. Her butt covered with flaming red welts. Burning pain flowed like lava over her unprotected buttocks. Christa cried.

Sister Zita did not care at all. She gave Christa twenty solid blows on the buttocks. She showed no mercy, rather the strokes became more solid with time.
After Christa screamed in tears "Twenty!", the sister put the stick away.

She released Christa and helped her get up. Christa was still crying. Her butt burned with pain.
"Punishment must be!" the nun said sternly. "You understand that, girl?"
"Yes, sister Zita," Christa replied in tears. "Thanks for the punishment."

"Nice," said the nun. "Come with me, I want to show you something." She did not take the handcuffs from Christa. Christa followed the sister outside with hands tied behind her back. Zita led her to a cemetery behind a low wall.
"Here are all the sisters of the Order buried," said Sister Zita. At the very back there was a long row of tombs that looked particularly well-kept. "Here are our ancestors," said the nun. "I take special care of these graves. There are thirty-one graves."

Christa looked at the graves. They were well taken care of. Pansies bloomed on the freshly raked tombs. She stood still and looked. By now her tears had dried up. She thought about what Sister Zita had said. Because she had sobbed a little, she had not understood everything correctly. How did the sister say? "There are thirty-one graves." Did she say that? Christa thought she understood how Sister Zita said, "There are meanwhile thirty-one tombs".

But that did not make sense. They were old tombs, the tombs of the ancients. Zita had said it. How could it be "meanwhile thirty-one“? The ancestors died several centuries ago. There were thirty-one. There could not be more later on.

I did not hear right, Christa thought. Or sister Zita did not express herself correctly.
It did not matter. It was important that they now went to the Zita chapel, where the big cross was waiting for Christa. The nun freed Christa from her handcuff and ordered her to get on the cross.

She smiled down at Christa as she lay stretched out on the cross, ready to get moored. "And? How long today, penitent girl? How long do you want to repent?"
"Six hours, sister," Christa replied.
Sister Zita's smile widened: "Six hours? Exactly how you promised yesterday? You want to endure on the cross as long as our Lord was crucified? That's nice. Very beautiful! All right then!"

She strapped Christa to the cross. The girl kept reverently quiet as his wrists and ankles were trapped in the leather cuffs. The cross was cranked up. Christa rose. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling her crucifixion. It was the most beautiful feeling she had ever met. She loved it.

Six hours, she thought. Full six hours! That's going to be hard! I think that this time I can not stand it still and in humility. I'm afraid I'll start complaining at some point.
But she decided to defend herself and at least try to endure the long crucifixion reasonably quietly and humbly. She did not want to yelp in front of Sister Zita. No!

With a soft jolt the cross came to a halt. Sister Zita secured it. Then she came around the cross and knelt down in front of Christa. As she recited her prayers, she kept looking at Christa. She did not take her eyes off the naked body of the crucified girl for a second.

Christa hung silently on the cross and let herself be looked at. It pleased her that the sight of her defenseless body strapped to the cross aroused the nun. She was a bit ashamed and she even enjoyed that shame. She felt naughty and wild, defiant and at the same time humble and good. Her head was spinning wildly. The feelings changed in constant succession.

After the prayers, the nurse brought a water bottle and gave Christa a drink.
"Drink, girl! You will not get water for a few hours. I'm going to the city. I have to run errands. You will be alone for several hours. Do not worry, you'll be able to stand it." The nun's eyes lit up. "Because you have to, penitent girl! The cross will hold you. The cross will not let you go."

A few minutes later, Christa was alone in the chapel. Sister Zita had left.

 

[atzehes]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 23

Christa woke up because someone spitting ice-cold water over her face. She shook her head and tried to find to herself. She lay on the cross. It had been cranked down and lay flat on the pillars at the bottom of the chapel. Sister Zita leaned over her: "Are you back, girl?" She smiled. "You had stepped away for a while. That can happen when you had an orgasm under the garrot." Her smile widened:" You went off like a rocket, little one!"

Oh yes! Christa had gone up like a rocket! She had never experienced anything like it. She had shortness of breath had an endless multiple orgasm. She had almost died of lust. Now she understood why the French called the orgasm "le petit mort", the "little death."
We've got April 27, 2080, and I've just been strangled and came up endless, she thought. I felt like a Hovercar on full throttle. My turbines turned over and over.

Sister Zita opened the leather cuffs and helped Christa get up. She had to support Christa, because the girl was totally shaky on her feet. In the adjoining room, the nun hung the girl by the hands on the iron chain. Christa was more than happy with this. She was afraid that she would not be able to stand on her legs otherwise. She sank confidently into the bondage that held her upright, her arms stretched over her head.

Sister Zita had prepared warm water and washed her from head to toe, including her hair. She took her time. Finally she dried Christa with a soft towel.
"Now you're a clean, freshly washed girl again," the nun announced radiantly. "You were completely sweaty, kid. Now you're fresh and reborn."

That was exactly how Christa felt. Her arms ached from the four-hour crucifixion, her legs a bit too, but she was astonished not to have more pain. She had expected stronger after-effects. I could stand it, she thought with pride and with a little arousal. I endured four hours on the cross. It was hard, but I endured it, endured with humility and devotion.

Tomorrow I want more! I want the cross to conquer me. The cross should break my will. I want it this way!
As if Sister Zita had read her mind, she said, "Tomorrow longer, Christa?"
Christa nodded.
The nun smiled, "I would suggest six hours. So long did our Lord suffer on the cross. Will you take that on you, penitent girl?"
"Yes," Christa said simply.

"That's fine," said Sister Zita. She released Christa. "Kneel down, girl!"
Christa obeyed without contradiction. She dropped to her knees in front of the nun.
"Cross your wrists behind your back!" the nun ordered.
Christa obeyed.
"Thank you for the opportunity to repent!" ordered the sister.
"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to repent," Christa said in the tone of her heart. "Thank you for the crucifixion."

Sister Zita's voice got harder: "Stay on your knees! You will now show your gratitude in a different way, girl! Do you understand?"
"Yes, sister Zita," said Christa good-naturedly. She watched as the nurse lifted her robe in front. Sister Zita was barefoot to the navel - sort of. She wore no underwear under the nurses uniform. Christa saw that the nun was shaved. She was astonished. Intimate shaving with a nun? Not only that! She saw a small piercing in Sister Cita's clit, a piercing similar to that worn by Mrs. Riefer, her home economics teacher.

Sister Zita moved closer to Christa. She pushed her pelvis forward and pushed her genitals into Christa's face. "Show your gratitude, penitent girl!" she ordered in a stentor voice.
Christa showed gratitude. She began to work on her sister's pussy with her lips and tongue. She was stunned.
I kneel naked in front of a nun and lick her! she thought. A nun! A nun can be satisfied by me orally! No, that is certainly not chaste, dear sister Zita! Not a bit!

She listened to the moans of sister Zita. The nun pushed the pelvis into her face. She clenched her right hand in Christa's hair, while the left held up her robe to give Christa access to her most intimate place of her body.
"Oooh! Oooh, yes!" the nun groaned. "Oooh, yes! Keep it up, penitent girl! Be thankful! Be humble! Show true devotion! Oooh, yessss!" The woman's voice became a wheezing whimper.

Christa worked hard. She kissed and licked eagerly. She felt indescribably well. The sister's hand clawed at her hair pleased her. Also, the imperious tone with which the nun drove her. She really liked the pleasurable moaning and panting of sister Zita.
I serve her! thought Christa. I submit to her completely. I admit that she completely controls me. I am her slave. I have no free will anymore. I just want to obey.

While Christa caressed her sister's pussy with her tongue and lips, and tasted her salty arousal, she thought that she had always had such a submissive manner. That had started early. If the girls in the school had picked out one of them, then mutually bullied and mocked her, then Christa had always been happy if she was that girl. If the other girls mocked her, it had triggered strange and happy feelings in Christa.

And when, after school, the boys were chasing the girls and capturing them, it had caused Christa's heart pounding. She had fled and run away as fast as she could, but always hoping to be caught, whatever happened. Sometimes the boys just held their captives, but occasionally they had Christa - oh, glorious times! - tied to a tree. They had rummaged in her school bag to find sweets. If there were none, Christa had to pay off in a different way. She had to plead for mercy in a pleading voice and sometimes she had to kiss the boys, one after the other. How had she loved it!

You want me, Sister Zita! Christa thought as she licked the nun. She delected herself by the whimpering and wheezing of the woman. She dug her tongue in Sister Zita's cunt and sucked hard. The sister groaned. Then Christa licked and her teeth bit softly into Sister Zita's clit. The nun uttered a suppressed pleasure cry. Then she screamed louder. It sounded almost like yodelling.

Yes, you want me, sister! I know it! I'm sure! You can have me, sister Zita! At any time! You just have to make it. You have to take me. I will keep quiet. I will let you grant. I will surrender to you. I will completely submit to you. But you have to take me! Just like Mrs. Riefer! You have to take what you want! I can only wait quietly and obediently until you do it, sister!

She moved even closer to sister Zita. She pressed her mouth to the nun's pussy and licked eagerly. Sister Zita groaned and gasped. She whimpered in the highest tones. She uttered yodelling cries. Her pelvis twitched.
"Ooh! Ooooh! Penitent girl! Penitent girl!" she gasped. "Little sweet cross girl! Penitent girl! Submit! Show your gratitude! My sweet little penitent girrrrl! Oooh you ... sweet-and-sweetness's little penitent girrrl!"

With a cry the nun came. Her pelvis jerked violently and she clenched her hand hard in Christa's hair. "Penitent girl!" she gasped. "Cross girl! Oooh!"
Christa licked for a while, until the nun's orgasm subsided.

With a trembling sigh, the sister dropped to her knees before Christ, eyes closed.
"Cross girl! Ooh, sweet little penitential girl! "she sighed. She opened her eyes and looked at Christa. "You sweet little cross girl, you!" She kissed Christa on the mouth and hugged her and squeezed her. "Sweet little penitential girl", she said again and kissed Christa again and again.

At last the sister rose. "Get up, Christa! Get dressed! We want to go behind the house and end the day over coffee and cake."
Christa obeyed.

Fifteen minutes later, they sat behind the house and enjoyed coffee and cake. Christa wore her hands tied behind her back and sister Zita fed her with cake and gave her coffee to drink. The nun laughed and joked the whole time and kissed Christa again and again.

After dinner, she lifted Christa's bare feet into her lap and stroked them as she told the girl about the life in the monastery, as it had been before.
She talked about the boarding girls and the lessons. She said that the students were always barefoot in gymnastics. When the nurse giving the gym class fell ill, Sister Zita took her place.
Sometimes she raised Christa's bare feet to her mouth and kissed them. Again and again she called Christa her sweet little penitential girl.
Christa liked that.

Hello, Sassi!
Now that I've read 23 chapters of your great story, it's time to praise you once more for your really good narrative style and say something about it. In my opinion, your story lives especially from Christa's thoughts, which you describe down to the smallest detail, whereby you do not save with repetitions. That's what makes your story so authentic and realistic. - What else can a person condemned by crucifixion to immobility do other things than reflect? Since it is normal that their thoughts (what was and what could be) over and over again to deal with their fetish and to advanced time then on the crucifixion going to deal with more and more intense pain. There is enough time for that. - This kind of feelings, as well as Christa's character you communicate to the reader in a very vivid way. You can not escape the thrill of your story. The reader is right in the middle of it and is waiting impatiently for what's to come. So I puzzle: Does the fact of the three disappeared students for the progress of the story any supporting meaning? ... and: What does the increasingly brutal sister Zita do with Christa? Just submission or preparation for a very definite, final event? - I am very curious how things will continue.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 26

"Six hours!" Said Christa. She looked at the statue of Mary on the left side of the chapel: "Six hours! I have to endure six hours on the cross today. Will I be able to do that? Without howling, I mean. You have seen many before me on this cross, Mary, even those who were crucified for six hours. Did they cry? Did they whine? Did they beg for mercy? Have they begged to be taken off the cross? I have no idea.
The four hours yesterday were tough, but I withstood them. Because I had to. The cross forced me to. I like this constraint somehow. Is it a sin to like this compulsion? Do you know that?"

She leaned back against the cross. "Well ... I'll find out. Either way! Time will give me an answer to my question if I can stand it. " Christa looked down at her small feet on the pedestal. Today it was set as on the first days. Her legs were only slightly bent. This allowed her to support herself well. It would not be as exhausting and painful as the day before.
She hoped. Six hours was two hours more than four! That was a lot. Six hours. Half a day!

For a start, the crucifixion was fun. Christa enjoyed the feeling of being tied up and stretched on the cross. That she was naked gave her an extra kick. Nothing hurt yet. The strain in her arms and shoulders was pleasant. It felt good. Christa lounged on the cross. She felt good.

"Here I am," she said loudly into the empty chapel, "a poor schoolgirl who has to spend his weekly penance on the cross. I'm naked and anyone can look at me as I please."
But maybe it was a punishment? thought Christa. In her imagination, she saw herself as a boarding school girl crucified by the stern nuns as a punishment for disobedience and improper behavior.

Christa squirmed on the cross. She hung naked on that cross because she was a bad girl. She had been crucified for punishment. For six hours!
All girls of the boarding school had to go to the chapel after class and look at the naughty girl on the cross.

"Why the chapel?" Christa asked. "I'm crucified at boarding school where everyone can see me." In her mind's eye, a movie started. She was naked and publicly displayed in the entrance hall of the boarding school. Schoolgirls kept passing the cross. Everybody could see Christa. Everyone saw what happened to a naughty girl.

Some girls looked at Christa with compassion, but there were many who granted her the punishment. Sometimes they stood in small groups in front of the cross and taunted Christa. "You get what you deserve, you stupid goose!" exclaimed a girl full of venom. "Why were you so disobedient? You always have to rebel! You do not want to obey. Now you see where that ends!"

After some time, it became uncomfortable on the cross. Christa began to groan and moan. The girls mocked her for their whining. They mimicked Christa's weeping and poured out ridicule and derision on her. They stood in front of the cross and made faces and they laughed at Christa. They joked that Christa was naked and they were mean to her.

Poor Christa suffered agonies. She was helpless at the ridicule of the other schoolgirls. She was infinitely ashamed to hang naked in front of these nasty girls on the cross and defenseless to their mockery. And she was ashamed because she begged for mercy. She asked to be let down from the cross because it hurt so much. She suffered unimaginable.

Christa leaned back against the cross. What a nice fantasy! She would have liked to have experienced that as a schoolgirl. She had always dreamed of being tied up helplessly and dreamed of being tied to a cross. Really experiencing it was the most beautiful thing she could imagine. Once again she thanked the fate that had led her to the monastery of Obermurscheid.

And she thanked the fate that she had met Sister Zita at the monastery, a very special nun who interpreted the chastity law in her very own way.
When Christa thought of the domineering dominant woman, she felt a rush of arousal. How wonderfully strict the sister was! Alone to think of the nun, chilled her shiver on the back. When she thought about what the nun had done to her the night before in the wide bed, it tingled between Christa's legs.

"I hope she does it again tonight!" Christa whispered. She would love to indulge the nun, especially as she was tied up. "Do whatever you want with me, Sister Zita!" said Christa. "Proceed with me at will! I am at your disposal!"

Christa writhed moaning at the cross. She moaned in pleasure, but also because the pain began. She guessed she had been crucified for an hour.
"Let it hurt!" she said obediently. "That's part of it! I will endure it. I love it. It is nice."

The surroundings blurred in her mind's eye. Now Christa was no longer crucified in the small chapel. She hung in the entrance hall of the boarding school on the cross. She saw the schoolgirls running past downstairs. There was no loud running noise. No heels clacked on the polished floor, because all the girls were barefoot. They were not allowed to wear shoes.

Christa fantasized about different school uniforms. Sometimes the girls wore simple gray summer dresses like she did, then a skirt and a blouse. Sometimes the skirt was gray, then dark blue or dark red. The blouse was white, as white as the girls' bare feet. When they passed the cross, you could hear almost nothing, only sometimes the soft patch of bare soles on the stone floor.

Then the imagination changed in Christa's head. Now she was crucified in the Zita chapel and from time to time girls came by. They knelt down before Christ and prayed, looking at her as Sister Zita always did.
Once a girl got up after praying and came to the cross. She kissed Christas bare feet and made a sign of the cross with the right hand. Another girl gave Christa water to drink and then one came and climbed onto the stepladder and caught Christa between the legs.

"Oooh!" Christa squirmed on the cross. At the idea of beeing masturbated by a schoolgirl of the same age, she became horny. It began to tingle in her lap.
Christa groaned loudly. She hung helplessly agitated on the cross and could not be relieved. She thought of the dark discolored wooden knob in the second room in the main building, where Sister Zita performed her sexual retreat. Only too gladly she would have ridden on the wooden cone!

Christa squirmed on the cross. She danced back and forth and pushed the pelvis forward. It tingled and throbbed between her thighs. She was sweating.
"Sister Zita!" she sighed. "Ooh sister Zita! Please come! Grab between my legs! Please masturbate me! With your strong hand that can grab so tight!"

Christa passed away with pleasure, but she was helpless delivered to her growing araousal. Never she had been so aware of her own helplessness. She was helpless on the cross and had to endure both the pain and her lust. She could not redeem herself from either one or the other. She was completely dependent on Sister Zita.

"Sister Zita, please come!" moaned Christa. "Please take me! You can do with me what you want! Only please come and do it!" But nobody came. Christa knew for sure that she would have many hours in helplessness on the cross.

"When will sister Zita come back?", Christa asked the statue of the Mother of God. "Maria, do you know it? I'll turn crazy. I can not help it, that I'm so aroused. I'm so sorry. It is definitely not proper to groan in a church with lust and squirming in shackles sweating, but I can not help it! Not really!

I am as aroused as never before! I'm hanging naked on this cross and it hurts now. My arms hurt because they are stretched very hard. My shoulders hurt and my legs hurt too. They are quite shaky because I constantly lean on the pedestal and push myself up. But these pains are beautiful, Mother Mary! So beautiful!"

Christa danced a slow dance of pleasure on the cross. She moaned with delight. She groaned with pleasure. She loved to be tormented by the cross. She loved sister Zita for crucifying her and give her this pleasurable experience. She was full of gratitude.

"I'm suffering," Christa said to the statue of the Mother of God. "I'm suffering and I enjoy that. Can you understand that, Mother Mary? Can you understand that a young girl loves pain and humiliation? I would like to be free now. I would like to be released. But I will not be released. Shall I tell you a secret, Maria? That's what I like so much about the thing. That I wish to be redeemed and I do not receive salvation. I enjoy every minute of my magnificent captivity. It hurts so bad! So terribly! And yet it is beautiful! It's pretty awful and it's awfully nice! Please forgive me, Mother Mary!"

Sweat rinsed into Christa's eye. It burned. She could not do anything about it. She was hanging on the cross with her arms stretched out, helpless. She loved it.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 27

Christa looked down at herself. She saw her small firm breasts with the nipples upright, her ribs protruding and her stomach flat. Her eyes slid down her thighs to her feet, which looked very white in contrast to the dark brown leather bondage cuffs.

Christa had very light skin. She was one of those people who never really got a sun tan, even in midsummer, and it was only spring. April 2080. She planned to acquire the driving license for hover cars later this year. She did not want to be chauffeured by robotic taxis all the time. She wondered if a robotic taxi would have found its way to the old monastery of Obermurscheid. Those taxis were sometimes completely stupid.

She felt the tension in her arms and shoulders. She felt the cross. And she felt something else. What had sister Zita called it: she had to "puddle up". Christa groaned. She felt pressure of her full bladder. She did feel that for a while.

"I've only been on the cross for at least two hours," she said to the statue of Our Lady. "How can that be that I need to pee so much? Yesterday I was crucified for four hours and did not have to!"
She reared up and sank back into the handcuffs. "Yesterday I sweated, very much. There was not much liquid left to fill my bladder."

Was it so? But no! Sister Zita had given her plenty of water to drink. Why did she have to pee so urgent today? Christa pressed her thighs together. She tried to hold it.
That was nonsense, of course. At some point she had to let mother nature go its way, that was clear to her. She resisted for a while, but she knew she would lose this fight. At some point she had to let water.

Mother Maria smiled benevolently to her.
"Why are you fighting against it, my child," she said in a gentle voice. "You will not succeed. You do not mind. So just have to let it go. You can not get away of it."
"But if I make a puddle, sister Zita will see it when she comes back," Christa countered. "She can see the puddle. I do not think my pee will seep away in the stone floor."
She looked down. The polished stone slabs did not look like water could seep into it. If you wet cleaned this floor, then you had to pick up the mop to dry the floor.

"What should I do?" Christa asked. "Tell me, Mother Mary!"
Maria smiled her eternal kind smile. "Use your imagination, my child," she said softly. "Then it's easier for you. Maybe it will be fun then. Look! All the schoolgirls kneeling in the benches to pray. They see you. They can see everything. They see that you are naked and they will see exactly when you make a puddle."

"Ooh!" Christa groaned. She squirmed a little. She writhed with pleasure and at the same time with shame. She was in desperate need to urinate and down there three dozen schoolgirls were kneeling and watching. Christa got so much into this fantasy that she blushed.
She reared up. She pressed her thighs together. She would not be able to stop it for a long time.

The girls down there looked up at her. They did not miss the smallest detail. They would watch as Christa's lap opened its locks and a warm stream spurted from her cunt. What an idea! Dreadful! Nice! Nice terrible! Terribly nice!

Christa sank into the handcuffs. She opened her thighs as far as the bondage of her feet allowed.
"If you let it go, you'll probably wet your feet," Maria said softly. "Do you want the leather cuffs to get wet? That would be very uncomfortable. It would rub. You could get sore ankles."

"No!" Christa moaned. She did not want that.
How should I do it?
She pulled herself up on the cross and stretched her pelvis forward until her butt came off the upright post. It was hard to stay that way. Christa had to work hard. Her arms and legs began to tremble with the effort.
I have to hurry, otherwise I'll sink back to the upright and get wet.

Christa put her legs slightly apart. She pressed a bit. Then she felt her bladder open. Already it started. The mercury-like little feeling ran through her lap and then a finger-thick warm stream spurted out of her cunt. Her urine spurted into the chapel. The stream splashed loudly on the stone floor. It splashed. An expansive puddle quickly formed.

Christa let it go. Once she started, she could not stop it. It was good to relieve herself. At the same time, she fantasized that she was watched by three dozen girls in school uniform while she was urinating from the cross.

At some point, the finger-thick beam dried up out of her lap. It became a trickle and then nothing more came. Christa saw the big puddle in front of the cross.
I did that, she thought.
She returned to her imagination. Now the barefoot schoolgirls were kneeling down in the benches and looking up at her. Then the girls rose. In turn, each came forward to the cross. They walked barefoot through the puddle Christa had made and dropped to their knees in front of the cross. Every girl prayed a Lord's Prayer. Then she got up, kissed Christa's bare feet, and returned to his seat in the bench.

Christa had to smile when she imagined that. Of course, this had never happened in the Zita chapel, but certainly many a girl and one or two nuns had to pee on the cross. The puddle in front of the cross, which came from Christa, was not the first one.

Christa lolled on the cross. As she climbed, her bare butt rubbed against the wood.
Did girls from boarding school have been strapped to this cross? Could it be? Did the nuns occasionally crucify a schoolgirl?
I could imagine Sister Zita did that, Christa thought. She has this strange predisposition ...

She remembered something. Was the cross in the Zita Chapel perhaps the reason for closing the boarding school? The cross and what sister Zita did to young girls? She remembered the regret in her sister's voice when she said the boarding school had to close. Did not she say she had not been in the monastery for a long time?

Maybe just a year. Was that so? Four girls were gone. Without a trace, Sister Zita had said. Three disappeared during the first half of the school year, and the fourth towards the end of the school year.
But had these four girls really disappeared without a trace? What if it had been different? What if a nun with special preferences made advances to these girls? And she had gone too far?

It may have worked for one or the other, but not for everyone. Sister Zita really had special preferences! Especially the punishment of disobedient girls. What if the girls had packed their bags and gone? Of course, they had told at home what had happened to them at boarding school.

So what? Did the parents talk? Did they file charges?
"No!" Christa said. She looked at the Mother of God statue. "They DO NOT have! Because it was just unimaginable! It was a NUN! A nun does not do that. Nobody would have believed the girls."

Not only that! Even if the people had believed the girls in court, it would have been a huge scandal. The media had set upon the girls. They would have described everything in detail.
Christa saw the lurid headline in her imagination: "Four young girls abused by a nun in the most perverse way!"
That was bad enough, but there were also enough people who said, "They wanted that! They have participated! Who knows ... maybe these sluts even LIKED it really well?"
A horrible idea!

So the families of the girls had been silent. They had kept silence. But of course something leaked. It always did in such a case. Maybe more girls at home had confessed what sister Zita had done to them, maybe not. Maybe the rumors were enough.
Anyway, people wanted their daughters away from the convent school. More and more students were logged out, until the boarding school finally had to be closed.

Was it like this? Christa could well imagine. Because of the silence Sister Zitas name was not known. She had not been expelled from the Order because the other sisters knew nothing. But she had caused the closing of the boarding school with her behavior.

Maybe Zita's radar was not as sensitive as Christa had initially supposed. Maybe she had not realized good enough about whether a girl was so minded and willing to volunteer. Maybe the sister had gone too far with her obsession.

"Was that so?" Christa asked the statue of the Virgin. "Did that happen, Maria?"
The Blessed Mother just smiled at her silently. Her smile was kind, but she did not speak. Christa submissively sank into bondage.
"I'll never know," she said to Maria. "But honestly, if there was still a girls' boarding school, there would hardly have been an opportunity for me to be crucified, right? So it's fine the way it came."

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 28

Because Christa liked to be crucified. She loved it. Therefore, she was glad how it came. She enjoyed the cross and the pain it imposed on her. She found the pain arousing. She liked to endure it.

Christa thought again of the dark discolored wooden knob in the second room of the main building. It was out of reach for her. How she would like to walk the thing, would have stood up on her toes and put on the dark knob and then she could have been riding ... ride to orgasm.

She could not. She was strapped to this cross and condemned to hang on it until sister Zita freed her.
Sister Zita.
How long did she stay away? How many hours had passed? Christa had no real sense of time anymore.

It was not very far to the city. You took the narrow road that led away from the forest behind the monastery and after two kilometers you were there. On foot you might need half an hour. Christa reckoned: back and forth - an hour. Do errands? Maybe another hour. More hardly, right? It took two hours, a maximum of three, when the nurse took a lot of time.

"I have been crucified for four hours," Christa said into the chapel. "At least! Rather longer! Actually, it's probably already more than five hours. I can not completely orientate myself to the pain, because I can bear the cross more easily with each passing day. I can accept the pain and suffer silently.“

She moved on the cross. She had already reached the point where she could no longer help such movements. Whether she pushed herself up or let herself sink into the handcuffs, it hurt. The pain filled her completely.
But she liked that pain. She could endure it, if only because she could not get away on her own. Had she been able to do that, she would have given up long ago and climbed down from the cross. But she had to endure it.
The compulsion was arousing. It sweetened the pain she was suffering.

"When will sister Zita come back?" Christa asked. She turned to Our Lady, "How long does she need for her errands? It can not take that long, is it?"
An unpleasant idea spread in her head. She saw Sister Zita walking over a pedestrian crossing. A car driver who was not paying attention, hit her. The nurse came to the hospital ...

Christa felt goose bumps all over her body. What if this idea coincided with reality? So what? What if the nurse was in hospital for days?

"I can not get away!" Christa whispered dumbfounded. "I have no chance to free myself! If Sister Zita does not come, I'll be strapped to the cross until ..."
How long would she last? She would endure the pain, one way or the other. But how long could she get along without water? How long could she survive if nobody came?

In her imagination, she saw Sister Zita come to the monastery after two weeks in the hospital. There she found a naked corpse on the cross in the Zita chapel.
No! Christa thought. She was freezing cold. Please not!
But what could she do? The answer was: nothing!

She could scream for help until her vocal cords failed. Nobody would hear her. Soundproof, the nun had said. How could she know that?
Quite simply, you hang a nun naked on her hands, a second nun whips her mercilessly, and the third nun walks along the wall outside and listens. She does not hear anything.

"It is because of the high thick wall that surrounds the chapel with the extension," Christa said. "Plus the outer wall. This dampens all sounds. Not even if someone stands directly in front of the monastery, he can hear me!" Christa got into hard fear. She was close to panic. She had to calm herself down with all her power.

"I'm wrong! Sister Zita is okay. She is fine! She will come soon. She only spends a lot of time on her errands. She ..."
Suddenly she had an idea: "She's already here!"
Groaning, she sank into the handcuffs. "She is there! She has quietly slipped into the monastery and now she listens from outside, whether I moan or scream!"

She whispered, suspecting that Sister Zita was standing at the door of the chapel, listening. You can wait a long time, she thought defiantly. I'm not complaining! And I will not scream! I will endure it without crying!

Christa's courage was put to the test. Sister Zita did not come. Christa squirmed on the cross. She danced slowly on the wood. She was sweating. She suffered. She had to fight with all her strength against the rising tears. She did not want Sister Zita to find her on the cross as a whining crybaby.
But, god !, it was so hard to bear!

Six hours, a voice whispered in her head. Six hours, Christa! Six hours is a long time. An unbelievably long time! You can not get used to the pain of crucifixion. It is terrible because the pain increases with every minute you spend on the cross. Therefore, you simply can not stand the pain.

Christa endured it anyway. She could not help it. She suffered. She squirmed. She groaned. She was sweating. She made another puddle on the floor in front of the cross. And she was thirsty. That was a previously unknown pain. Her mouth was dry.
"Oh God, what would I give for a sip of water!" she said to the Mother of God. "Just a single sip!"
But she did not complain. She did not cry. She did not scream. She endured it quietly and devotedly. All she did was writhe and moan now and then.

When sister Zita suddenly came in by the door, Christa thought to hallucinate at first. When she saw the bottle in her sister's hand, Christa let go of relief.
"Oh sister Zita!" she called. "You do not believe how much thirst I have!"
The nun came to her, making a circle around the puddle on the floor, pushed the stepladder in front of the cross and came up to her.

"Drink, my child!" She held out the water bottle to Christa. Thankfully, Christa drank. For a moment she had thought she recognized a vicious glint in the nun's eyes. She had been frightened and believed the woman would refuse to give her water and delect herself from her agony.
But Sister Zita gave her to drink as much as she wanted. Christa emptied the bottle completely.

"Thank you sister," she breathed. "Thank you! I was so thirsty."
That she had thought for a while about where the nun was and whether something had happened to her, she concealed. She did not want to tell Sister Zita about her fear. Instead, she paused to hang on the cross and waited for the things to come.

As usual, Sister Zita cleared the stepladder and then knelt in front of the cross to pray long and hard. She looked at Christa unblinking.
Christa liked that. Since she had received water and she knew that sister Zita was back, she was fine. All fear had fallen away from her and she was feeling well.

Yes, she felt good. She was fine. She hung on the cross and endured the pain with a mixture of pride and humility. She endured it with joy.
I'm Christa Weber, the girl on the cross, she thought. I can bear it. I can endure six hours on the cross without crying or begging for mercy. I endure it calmly and devotedly.
Christa gave herself completely to her crucifixion. She felt the pain that filled her physically. Not only did the arms hurt, it hurt almost everywhere.

But Christa welcomed the pain. She felt very strange. The more it hurt, the better she felt. She felt like she was floating. She was sweating, and sometimes she writhed a little, but she could stand it without moaning or even complainig loudly.

Instead, she felt pride and joy and arousal. She was aroused and not too short. It felt like a rush to float in a universe of ekstasy on the cross, permeated with pain and torment. Christa was amazed. It was good. It was so good! She loved it.

She had read that masochists could become intoxicated by adding physical pain, but never experienced it. Now she experienced it and it was wonderful. She floated on the cross and was filled with joy and sweet devotion - and a great deal of arousal. She was so aroused that she became dripping wet in the crotch.

She looked down at Sister Zita, who was kneeling and praying in front of her. The nun kept looking at her. She did not keep her eyes off Christa's naked body. Christa smiled at the nun. How did she love Zita at this moment!

Thank you sister! Thank you for making this wonderful experience possible. Thank you for this special gift. You may crucify me as often and as long as you want. Again tomorrow! Tomorrow longer? Why not? If you want, you can decide how long I will suffer tomorrow. Eight hours? Or even ten? Did not you tell me about a nun who was even crucified for a whole day?

Do it! Crucify me for a whole day! I will bear it, in humility and joy, in modesty and full of pride. I can do it! Because the cross makes me! Once I'm strapped to the cross, I endure everything the cross imposes on me. Proceed with me as you wish, sister!

 

[Mark Kee]

Nice work! Enjoyed reading every part.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 29

Christa floated blissfully on the cross and let herself be looked at by sister Christa.
When she's done praying, she puts the stepladder in front of the cross and comes to me, she thought.
At the thought of how the nun would grab between her legs with a firm hand, the wetness between Christa's thighs intensified. Now she was actually dripping.

Please come to me soon, my beloved stern mistress!, she thought with longing. I surrender to you. Please touch me!

But sister Zita prayed. She prayed a long time this time. Otherwise, maybe ten minutes would have been enough for her, but Christa guessed that the nun had been praying for well over twenty minutes, maybe longer.
She kept it good on the cross and waited obediently until the nurse was finished and came to her.

Then - finally! - rose sister Zita. As usual, she knelt once more in front of the statue of Mary and prayed a little while longer. Christa looked at the nun's bare feet. She could see that sister Zita had been in the city. Her soles were jet black from barefoot walking in the city.

Finally, Sister Zita finished praying. She got up and looked at Christa on the cross. Christa waited obediently. She was looking forward to have Sister Zita's big, strong hand between her legs. Her lap was in flames in anticipation. Her pussy meowed loudly after the firm hand of the sister.

Christa was wet with sweat. She hung silently on the cross. She was exhausted from six hours of crucifixion and yet she felt caressed and cheerful. She felt reborn.
Come, sister! Take me! Take the naked cross girl! I´m offered you defenseless. You can do whatever you want with me.

But sister Zita did not want! Suddenly she turned without a word and strode to the exit door.
Christa stared after her in puzzlement. What was that? Why did Zita go away? She saw the nun open the door and disappear outside. Before she closed the door, she looked once more at Christa on the cross.
Christa could not interpret her look. It almost looked like the sister was mad at her.

She could not figure it out. The door closed and Christa was alone in the chapel. She was stunned. Why had the sister done that? And what did she think of letting her hang on the cross for even longer?
"It had been said: six hours," Christa whispered. She reared up to change her position on the cross. "Six hours and no longer!"

But was it longer than agreed? How could she know that? There was no clock in the chapel. She had no idea how long she had been crucified. Christa looked over at Maria: "Do you know how long I hang on the cross? I thought it was six hours. But maybe five hours are up and sister Zita will make me suffer for another hour. Shall I tell you something, Maria? I do not believe that! I firmly believe that my six hours are done! Zita deliberately lets me stew longer on the cross. But why? What have I done to make her so grim?"

Maria said nothing and gave Christa her kind smile. Christa thought hard.
"Do you know what?" she said to Maria. "I think she's angry because I could stand it so well. She has gone to town and expected to find a girl on the cross on her return, begging for mercy. She expected me to cry in tears to let me down. Instead I hung happily on the cross and felt really well! She do not like that. That's why she leaves me longer on the cross. To punish me! Because the crucifixion is good for me! That stupid buckle!"

Christa squirmed a little. She was still in that weird, dreamlike physical intoxication. Pain and arousal were one thing. She felt wonderful. The more it hurt, the happier she was."Let me hang on the cross!" she whispered rebelliously. She grinned. "She has no idea how good it is to me! Then I'll just suffer a little longer!"
She sank into the handcuffs and enjoyed the cross. She did it proudly. She did not feel humility. Not the smallest bit.

It took time for sister Zita to come back. Christa could not help feeling that the nun had not been away at all.
She stood outside the door, her ear pressed to the door, and listened, she thought. She has been waiting for me to cry and call for help. She wanted to hear me howling. Hah! I did not do anything like that! I endured it quietly!

The nun disappeared in the next room. She returned with a bucket of water and a mop. She quietly set about wiping Christa's puddle in front of the cross. She worked slowly and concentrated. She took her time. Sister Zita seemed to have all the time in the world.

She's waiting for me to beg for mercy, Christa thought. She wants to hear me whining. You can wait a long time! I do not implore! I do not even cry! I endure it in silence and patience! And the best part is: I enjoy it!

Sister Zita cleaned up the cleaning utensils. Then she came back to the chapel. She passed Christa and cranked the cross down. She untied Christa's shackles and made an imperious gesture: "Come along!" She ran ahead. Christa followed her.
What is she up to? she mused. She still looks grim. She'll think of something, how she can punish me. Every bet!

She heard Sister Zita muttering to herself. She understood only a few words. Christa thought she heard a phrase, "Sometimes you have to show girls who is in charge!" She was not sure, but thought the nurse had said that.

They went behind the main building to the carpet rod. Christa understood. Her penance was not over yet.
Sister Zita ordered her to hang herself on the pole. Christa obeyed without contradiction. As she hung on the carpet rod, her arms protested painfully. They had to hold Christa's weight for hours and now she was hanging by the arms again.

"Hold on!" snapped Sister Zita. "You won´t let go! You will hold on!"
"Yes, sister," said Christa. She held on tight. She was hanging on the carpet rod. Her feet dangled in the air almost a meter above the ground.
Sister Zita took the stick out of her robe. She lined up behind Christa and pulled out.

She hit Christa with the stick on the bare soles of her feet. There was a popping noise as the wooden stick hit her bare soles. Christa winced. She gasped loudly.
Already the next blow hit her unprotected soles. Christa clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. Sister Zita struck madly.

Christa gasped. God, that hurt! The sister hit as hard as she could. Again and again the stick hit Christa's bare feet. She had to use all her mastery so as not to put on her legs. It was almost impossible for her to dangle her feet. The blows hurt too much.
Sister Zita kept on beating. She hit with all severity.

But Christa did not cry. She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming.
I do not do you that favor! she thought in defiance. I do not cry and I do not scream! Hit me as hard as you want! I do not make a sound!

She heard the nun make an incredulous sound.
Hah! You stunned, huh? I'm not screaming! Hit me! Blow as long as you want!
Christa felt defiance and grim satisfaction. And not only that! The special feeling came back, the feeling of floating that she had finally experienced on the cross - the sweet ache of pain.

She hung silently on the carpet rod and let sister Zita hit her bare soles. And she liked it! Pain and pleasure mingled and pleasure was stronger than pain. The grander sister Zita slammed, the stronger was the intoxication in which Christa floated. She felt that she could stand it forever, as long as her hands held her securely on the pole.

She heard Sister Zita launch a repressed curse. The nun hit harder and harder. She wanted to make Christa scream. But Christa made no sound. She hung silently on the rod and had her feet whipped and she LOVED it!

At some point, sister Zita gave up. She stopped beating Christa.
"Go down!" she snarled.
Christa dropped. As her feet hit the grass, she almost fell to her knees. She stumbled slightly. Then she caught herself. She looked calmly at Sister Zita. The nun was sweating in the face from the exertion of flogging the little cross-girl.
Christa was satisfied. She had won the silent duel. She floated with happiness and contentment.

"Go take a shower!" the nun ordered sternly. "Then you come to my room! Naked! Do you understand?"
"Yes, sister Zita," said Christa good-naturedly. She ran to the main building. Her feet were throbbing with pain. But she was satisfied. She had won. Christa felt pride.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 30

Christa showered extensively. Later she dried off and dried her hair with the hair dryer. Then she toddled on bare soles and naked like Eve in Paradise to Sister Zita's room. She still felt a little bit rebellious and defiant, but she was ready to subjugate under the nun again in humility and obedience.

Sister Zita pulled the rope out of the robe: "Come here, girl! Hands back!"
Christa went to the nun and had her hands tied behind her back. The nurse gave her a slap on the bare buttocks: "Lie down in front of the bench!" On one wall stood a wooden pew without a knee pedestal. Christa ran and dropped to her knees. Then she lay on her back in front of the bench.

Sister Zita undressed. She took off the nun´s robe. Naked she came to Christa and took a seat on the bench. She raised her right foot over Christa's face. A black sole floated in front of Christas eyes.
"Show your obedience, penitential girl!" she said sternly.
Christa obeyed. She knew what she had to do. She began to lick Sister Cita's sole with her tongue.

"Continue! Come on, work!" the nun snarled. "Be diligent!"
Christa was diligent. She eagerly slid her tongue over the nun's bare sole. She licked eagerly. She licked the dirt off. Christa felt blessed. It was a wonderfully humiliating situation. She was tied up in front of the nun on the floor and had to lick her feet. It was wonderfully demeaning.
Christa licked hard.

She tasted street dirt. She licked with a quick tongue. Slowly the deep black disappeared and Sister Cita's sole became clean and rosy. At some point, the right foot of the nun was licked clean. She took it away and held out her left foot to Christa: "Lick clean, girl! Let's go! Show your obedience!"

Christa showed obedience. She eagerly licked Sister Zita's bare foot with her tongue. She licked the heel clean. She licked the balls of Zitas foot. She licked and sucked her toes.

Sister Zita lifted her already clean right foot and drove it between Christa's legs. She began to squeeze and rub Christa's pussy with her foot.
Christa had to suppress a groan. She opened her thighs so that the nun could get better access to her most private place. She got wet on the spot.

As she licked Sister Zita's left sole of her foot, Zitas right foot traced back and forth in Christa's slippery furrow, causing the girl to extreme arousal. The arousal made her lick even more eagerly. She gave herself to the delightful erotic stimulation and licked the sole of the sister humbly and obediently.

Christa licked and licked. The nun's sole had been licked clean, but Christa wanted Sister Zita's foot to rub up and down her wet furrow. She sensed that it would not take her much longer to reach the redeeming orgasm. That's why she licked on.

Sister Zita suddenly lifted her foot and examined the sole. She saw that everything was licked clean and took the right foot away from Christa's pussy. Christa had almost moaned in disappointment.
Carry on!, she wanted to call. Sister Zita, please do not stop!

Sister Zita dropped from the bench. She climbed over Christa and pressed her cunt on her mouth.
"Open your mouth!" she exclaimed in a commanding voice. "Come on! Open your mouth!"
Christa obeyed automatically.
"Drink from my well!" the nun commanded in a hard voice.

She let it go, right in Christa's mouth. Christa was completely taken by surprise. She could only obey and drank the warm, salty stream that poured into her open mouth. She swallowed the water from Sister Zita's well. She felt overwhelmed and raped, but she had to obey. She could not help it. It was a deeply humiliating feeling. It was absolute humiliation. She lay tied and defenseless on her back and the nun urinated in her mouth.

Christa was obedient. Christa swallowed. Christa drank. She allowed sister Zita to humiliate her to the utmost. She let go. She took it. She did not resist. All her resistance broke. She felt no more defiance and no pride. She was not a bit rebellious. Christa gave up. She submitted unconditionally. Christa drank.

When it was over, Sister Zita slid down until she was sitting on Christa's hips. She leaned down to look at Christa and look into her eyes. "Now you're humble and obedient, aren´t you, girl?"
"Yes, sister Zita," Christa answered. The nun kissed her on the mouth. Her tongue penetrated into Christa.

When the kiss ended, the nun looked down at Christa again: "Mmmm! I can taste the water from my well in your mouth, penitent girl." She slid back up until her cunt hovered over Christa's mouth and stretched out her genitals towards the bound girl: "Please me!"

Christa obeyed. Again she began to lick. This time she tasted no street dirt but sister Zitas salty arousal. She licked eagerly and sucked on the clitoris, which made the nun a loud cry of pleasure. Christa licked and kissed eagerly. She nibbled at Zitas clitoris and let the tongue play around the clitoris piercing.

Zita writhed and moaned over Christa. She whimpered and made small, uncontrolled screams. That fired Christa in addition. She licked and kissed and bit tenderly. She sucked and smacked and drove Zita crazy. She listened with pleasure to the lust sounds of the nun.

"Yes! Yes!" the sister gasped. "Yes, penitent girl! Yes! Oooh! Oooooh!"
Christa let her moan. Christa let her gasp. Christa made her whimper! Christa let her dance on her mouth. Finally, Sister Zita started to squeak aloud and then she came with a cry. She collapsed over Christa. "Penitentiary girl!" she stammered. "Oh my little barefoot princess! Oooh!"

She covered Christa's face with kisses. "My sweet little penitential girl! Ooh you dear, little thing! How are you so obedient!"

Finally she descended from Christa. She got dressed again. Then she brought everything for coffee and cake behind the house and took Christa with her. The girl was still naked and had her hands tied behind her back.
She had to sit naked on the folding chair and sister Zita fed her with cake and gave her coffee to drink.

Then they sat there again as usual. Sister Zita took Christas bare feet in the lap and stroked them.
“You have very small feet,"said Zita. "Like a real princess!“
Occasionally she lifted a foot to her mouth and kissed it. She kissed Christa's soles, the instep and the toes. Finally, Sister Zita took Christa on her lap. She hugged her and kissed her mouth. Her hand stroked Christas breasts.

"My little, good penitent girl," said Zita. Her hand stroked Christa's stomach and between her legs. Finally she grabbed on the right place. Christa willingly opened her thighs and gave her stern mistress access to her most intimate place. With relish, she gave herself to the sister's grabbing hand, which with a firm grip led her to a magnificent forced orgasm.
Christa looked at the nun all the time. Her eyes did not release the eyes of Sister Zita for a moment. When she came, she called Sister Zita's name. She was again humble and full of devotion.

 

[connoisseurs]

She heard a humming and rushing in the air. Then the whip slammed on her unprotected back

Just found

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 31

In the evening, the sister took Christa to her room. The girl had to strip naked and the nun tied her hands behind her back. Christa waited for the nun to take her in her arms and put her to bed, but that did not happen.

Instead, the nun bent down and pulled out the box under the bed Christa had seen there the first night. It was a wooden box nearly two meters long and eighty centimeters wide and just as high. The thing looked like a coffin, but Christa saw air holes at the top and sides.

She immediately knew what this box was for and she was not surprised when Sister Zita waved her over with an imperious gesture: "Come here!" She grabbed Christa roughly by the shoulder: "Go in that box!" Christa saw a folded blanket down in the long box, a cushion, so to speak.

Obediently she climbed into the box. The nurse told her to lie down. She got another rope. "Your feet!" Christa - lying on her back in the box - raised her legs. Sister Zita tied her feet together. Then she put Christa's legs back in the box. She closed the lid and Christa heard her lock it.

Then the nun pushed Christa in her narrow prison under the bed. Christa lay quietly in the box and listened. She heard Sister Zita putting things away for a while. After a few minutes, the nun went to bed. Christa was alone in the box - alone, naked and bound at hands and feet.

She did not know what to think. Anyway, she felt a great deal of disappointment that Sister Zita had locked her in this box instead of taking her to her bed. Christa had hoped for bondage sex in bed. She had wanted the sister's firm hand between her legs and the demanding kisses of Zita.

Instead, she lay naked and tied up in a box. Even if she had wanted, she was unable to touch herself because she had her hands tied behind her back.
Did Zita do that because she's still angry? Christa mused. She was angry because I survived the long crucifixion so lightly and happily. I noticed. She expected me to greet her in loud crying when she came back from the city and beg her in tears to release me. Instead, I was out of sheer delight on the cross. That probably pissed her on.

Therefore, I am now tied up in this box! Such an offended dump goat! I did not expect that from her. That's ... Christa searched for words in her mind. There were people who reacted that way. She had read about it, she did not know where. In a magazine about medicine? Or was it a novel? As much as she strained her brain, she did not find the answer. It was like looking for a word in the crossword puzzle. You have it in a sense on the tongue, but whenever you think you can get it, it escapes at the very last moment and you can not get it.

The strangest thing was that Christa felt it was very important to find that word. Because it was really important. Because …
Above, Christa heard the nun snoring softly.
"Because it involves a warning!" Christa whispered.

Was that so? Which warning? Before whom or before what? Why a warning? She did not understand. Surely she imagined that only because she felt uncomfortable. It was uncomfortable to be locked in the tight box. She could barely move. No wonder, when she got unpleasant thoughts.

The box is a warning! The thought came all of a sudden. Sure! Where had she got her head? The fact that she was locked in this box was the warning! And this warning came from sister Zita! You have rebelled, girl! You were not good! You disobeyed! You were a bad girl! I do not take bad girls in my bed! Bad girls I lock in the box overnight!

Right! That was it! Sister Zita had given her a shot in front of the bow. That was all.

I'm not the first, Christa thought. She has experience in educating girls to absolute obedience. She said it. I heard it. She said: "Sometimes I have to show you girls who is in charge!"
That´s it! She did not want to say it aloud. It slipped out of her. Or it was the other way around: She WANTED me to understand her mumbling! So that I go into myself and in the future not in the least rebellious! Because she hates that!

Christa lay quiet in the darkness, thinking about all these things. She figured she could not possibly fall asleep in the cramped box, but it was less than five minutes and she had stepped away.


April 29, 2080
The next morning, Christa woke up from the shock as the nun pulled out the box under the bed. She roughly lifted Christa and threw her onto the bed. There she took off her handcuffs and ankle cuffs and sent her to the morning toilet in the bathroom.

After breakfast, sister Zita took Christa aside.
"Today you will not be crucified," she said as she stroked Christa's hair. "Today I will repent! Do you understand?"
Christa nodded, "Yes, sister Zita." The sister hugged her, "I must repent to be purified. I need this penance!"

She gave Christa a kiss: "You have to help me, my child." Again she kissed Christa and looked at her afterwards. All severity had left her face. "Are you ready to help me to expiate?"
"Yes, sister Zita," Christa answered.

"You will crucify me, girl," began the nun. "I prepared everything. I'll repent on the cross for eight hours and, Christa: You're not going to set me free before eigtht hours are over! Do you understand?"
Christa nodded.
"That's very important," Zita explained. "No matter how much I implore or if I command you, you will not let me down from the cross!"
Christa shook her head. "No, sister. I wont."

"You can not do that either! No way!", Zita said seriously. "I want to atone, Christa! I MUST expiate, believe me! It is important! I need the repentance bitterly!"
Again, the nun hugged the girl and gave her a kiss.

"Before the crucifixion, I need an introduction to the ceremony," the nun said, "to prepare for the cross." She looked deeply into Christa's eyes. "You're going to whip me, girl!" She stroked Christa's hair: "Will you do that for me?"
Christa had to swallow. How humble Zita suddenly looked! "Yes, sister," she said bravely.
The nun took a pocket watch from her robe and handed it to Christa. "Put it in so you know when my time is up."

They went together to the chapel. There, sister Zita took off her clothes. She put her dress on the back of a pew. Then she threw herself naked as she was in front of the statue of Mary on her knees and prayed fervently to Mary.

"Forgive me, Mother Mary!" she pleaded. "Forgive me my sins and my missteps! Forgive me pride and arrogance! Forgive me bad habits and bad thoughts! Forgive me stubbornness and self-righteousness! Forgive a poor penitent sinner, Mother Mary!"
So it was for a quarter of an hour.

As the nun rose and turned, Christa saw that she was crying. She came to Christa: "Come now, my child. My repentance is due."
She led Christa into the next room. There was a thing that looked like a low, big table. Right and left and at the head end were leather cuffs, in which one could lock in wrists and ankles. Between the ankle cuffs a leather cushion was attached to the table.

"The place of preparation," said Sister Zita. "I'm flogged here. Then you'll strap me to the cross, crank it up, and let me atone for eight hours, Christa! Do you understand?"
Christa nodded.
The nun fetched something lying on the low, wide table: "You shall beat me with this!" It was a handle with a long, wide leather strap attached to it. It looked like a leather belt. She handed the belt whip to Christa: "Try it!"

Christa took the whip. She let it fly through the air on a trial basis. A whirring noise sounded.
"You have to strike tight, girl!" Sister Zita said. "You can not exercise restraint, you hear? Even if I start screaming, you have to keep going and strike powerfully! Do not spare me! I need those punches! You really have to punish me hard!"

The nun stepped to the shackle and lay naked on it. She lay on her back in such a way that her butt came to rest on the leather cushion. Then she stretched her arms over her head. "Now strap me, my child!"
Christa obeyed. She put the wrists of the sister in the handcuffs and closed the leather buckles. Zita spread her legs. Christa put her ankles right and left in the leather cuffs and tightened them.

Now sister Zita lay with her legs spread wide on her back. Her pelvis was pushed up by the leather cushion under her butt, so that her cunt was arched upwards.
"Now whip me!" Sister Zita demanded. Her voice trembled. "You will give me thirty-two blows between the legs! Thirty-two, do you hear? Not a less one! Thirty-two solid punches with the leather belt in my most intimate place! Then you let me tied up and spread for half an hour. After then will you crucify me!"

 

[old slave]

Will sweet Christa enjoy this part?

This old slave humbly waits for the answer.

 

[connoisseurs]

Will sweet Christa enjoy this part?

This old slave humbly waits for the answer.

I think the question is more if she is up to the task.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 32

"You can start now, my child," said the nurse. "I'm ready."
Christa picked up the whip. She climbed onto the plate, on which sister Zita lay forcibly spread on her back. She saw the nun's defenseless genitals in front of her as she stood over her upper body. Christa took measure. She stood up so that she could beat the sister with the belt whip on the pussy.

She paused for a moment and looked down. Sister Zita's genitals were completely defenseless before her, pushed up by the leather cushion under her buttocks. Christa knew how delicate and vulnerable a woman was at that part of her body. And now she should strike with a leather belt right there and with all her strength. Sister Zita had requested it.
Well then, she thought. She wants it that way, so she should get it.

Christa took measure. She took off and struck. The leather belt whirred buzzing through the air and hit with a shockingly loud bang exactly between Sister Zitas spread legs. It sounded almost like a pistol shot.
The sister winced. She reared up and produced a shrill scream. Christa jerked back. She had to catch the second blow in the middle of the air and pull out again, that was how scared she was.

But she hit again with all her strength. Again the nun screamed out loud. The third blow that kicked her unprotected cunt, the sister gave a muffled moan. Christa saw the sensitive flesh twitch under the belt. Every beat produced an audible bang.

She kept beating. She counted out loud so as not to get confused. She barely expected Sister Zita to know how she counted. Zita almost screamed at every beat. She reared up and tugged at her shackles. She bowed her back. She sobbed loudly.

At the first blow Christa had to overcome, but now she got going. She lashed the defenseless woman. She hit with all her strength. She liked it. As she slammed the leather thong over and over between Zita's legs, she listened to the nun's cries of pain. It was a great feeling to beat that tall, strong woman, make her scream and cry. Christa did not restrain herself. She did what Sister Zita had asked her to do: she whipped her hard.

Let's see if I can make her pee!, she thought. She hit harder. Zita writhed screaming in the shackles. She howled and screamed.

Chista felt a wild prickling in her lap. She could not stop beating Zita. As humble and submissive as she was, here and now it was over. How sweet it was to make sister Zita scream. She enjoyed it to the utmost to whip the naked bound woman. It was fun to beat the defenseless woman and to elicit a loud cry of pain with each stroke.

Christa kept pounding between the sister's spread legs. She listened to the cries of Zita. She saw the sensitive flesh of Zita's cunt shaking and twitching with every blow. She saw how Zita's pussy reddened and swelled under the belt slaps.
Zita screamed. She fidgeted in her shackles. She howled loudly. She writhed sweatily on the rack she was strapped to.

Christa gave all. She hit as hard as she could. She let Zita roar. The nun screamed her lungs out, but no matter how hard Christa slammed, she did not once plead for mercy. She did not implore Christa to stop the flogging. She only screamed in pain. And she did not pee as Christa had done during her flogging.

"Thirty-two!" One last time, Christa slammed the leather strap between Sister Zita's legs. The nun reared up screaming. Her flesh twitched. Then she sobbed loudly as she sank in the shackles. Christa stepped down from the rack. She put down the whip. She was breathing hard. The flogging of the sister had strained her.

While Zita was sobbing loudly sobbing on the rack, Christa left the room. She went to the Zita Chapel and looked at Mother Maria. Our Lady smiled benevolently towards her. Christa stepped in front of the statue. She could feel the cool stone floor under her bare soles and under her summer dress, that gray unadorned thing that looked like prison clothes, like a simple school uniform.

On the rack, bent over Sister Zita, she had felt the heat of the body under her skirt, the heat of the sweating body of a women writhing beneath the bite of the leather strap, which was mercilessly, the legs held in place by the fetters and forcibly spread. Behind her she heard Zita's sobs.

"I beat her," Christa whispered to the Mother of God statue. "I flogged her. I struck so hard that she screamed loudly. She wanted it that way! She ordered me. But it was fun. It made me crazy to whip that big strong woman who was so helplessly exposed to me."

Christa listened. The sobs in the next room had stopped. She brought out the pocket watch. It had been about five minutes since she had finished whipping Sister Zita. Christa went to the next room. Her bare feet made no noise on the smooth stone floor.

Zita lay still and surrendered on the rack, strapped at hands and feet, naked as God had created her. Christa looked at the woman's bound body. The body was tall and strong, broad and massive, but not a bit fat. Sister Zita had a wrestler body - just like her teacher Ms. Riefer. Now this big and strong body was tethered tightly on the low rack.

Christa came closer. She saw that the nun between her legs was red and swollen. The small clitoris piercing flashed silverish from reddened, sore whipped flesh.
Christa heard the quiet voice of her sister: "Our Lady, forgive me! Forgive me for my bad deeds! Holy Mother Mary, forgive me in your grace!" Then she lay quiet again.

Christa went to the bound woman. Sister Zita looked at her silently. She did not say anything. Christa was silent, too. She stepped up to the restraint frame between Zita's spread legs. She leaned forward, sank over the bound body, and kissed the sister's mouth.
She did it very gently, at first it was just a gentle touch of her lips. Then Christa opened her lips and let her tongue penetrated Zita. Gently but emphatically, she sought her way and was welcomed.

The kiss lasted a long time. Then Christa kissed and stroked the breasts of the bound woman. Zita made no sound. She let everything pass unnoticed. Christa worked her way down the sister, over her flat stomach to her lap. She gently stroked the inside of her spread thighs with her fingers. Zita still did not make a sound, but her breathing was faster now.

Christa worked her way up and down on Zita's thighs. She gently ran her fingertips over the sensitive skin. Finally she elicited a groan from the bound sister. Christa smiled. She dropped to her knees and approached the face of the openly presented cunt.
She saw the flesh reddened by the flogging. She felt heat rising from there.

Christa glanced at Zita's face. The nun had her eyes closed. Christa began to kiss the tender flesh between her spread thighs. Sister Zita's breath was much deeper and more hectic now. She tensed in her shackles. She groaned.

Christa began to lick. She ran her tongue up and down Zita's furrow. She sucked on the labia minora and clit. Her tongue played with the small clit piercing. Sometimes she gently sucked on the aroused flesh that was offered to her so open and unprotected.

Sister Zita was aroused. She gasped and groaned. She squirmed under Christas lips and tongue. Christa penetrated with her tongue deeper. She licked harder. Zita began to whimper. She moaned under Christa's caresses. Sometimes she gave small cries.
Christa moved on. She led the captive woman to the highest lust.

Zita became louder and louder. She squirmed with all her strength. She gasped and screamed with her mouth wide open. She started to stammer. She tore so tightly at the restraints she was fixing on the rack that it started creaking. She whimpered. She gasped. She screamed. She began to yodel.

Christa did not let her escape. Her lips and tongue worked eagerly. Busy as a bee sucking on a flower she sucked on Zita's plum. She nibbled and licked. Her tongue slid up and down diligently and played around the highly sensitive clitoris. Sister Zita's cries grew louder. Now she yodelled loudly. Her pleasurable sounds filled the room next to the chapel.

Christa let her yodel. Sometimes the touch of her lips and tongue softened and Zita's lust was slowed down. Then Christa started again fully and let the nun yodelled loudly. She deluded herself with the pleasure screams of her defenseless victim.
You are mine, she thought. I decide when you are allowed to come!

Cleverly she held out sister Zita. Again and again she managed to let the lust of the nun cool down a little bit. Zita squirmed groaning in her shackles. She whimpered. She stammered incoherent stuff. Christa became stronger again with her caresses. She became more importunate. Zita started yodelling aloud.

Finally Christa finished the pleasurable tortures of her helplessly bound victim. She let the tongue slide up and down faster. She increased the pressure on the aroused flesh of Zita and forced the nun to orgasm.
Zita yodelled in the highest tones. She tensed up in her shackles. She danced in the shackles and sang with pleasure.

Then she came with a cry. Her body tensed in the shackles. She screamed in pleasure. She arched her back and tensed in the shackles. She came in waves of pleasure, screaming, singing and yodelling.

Then she lay there panting and still giving off these singing tones. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling. Christa got up. She went to the chapel. A glance at the pocket watch showed her that Sister Zita had to remain in restraints for ten minutes.

 

[old slave]

Will sweet Christa enjoy this part?

She lashed the defenseless woman. She hit with all her strength. She liked it.

Christa surprised by her own feelings.

Methinks Zita might be even harder on Christa, though.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 33

After ten minutes Christa went to the next room to sister Zita. When she saw the naked woman lying helplessly stretched out there, she would have liked to start stimulating her again to bring her to orgasm. After that, it would have been nice to kneel over the sister's face and force her to repay the erotic caresses one to one.

But sister Zita wanted to be crucified for eight hours and time was pressing. So Christa set the nun free. She felt a quiet regret. She had no idea if she would ever see Zita again in such a helpless situation. She had liked to see the sister naked and shackled.

Sister Zita got up. She got up from the restraint frame. Then she knelt down in front of Christa and looked up at her humbly. "Thanks for the flogging," she said. There was no hardness or severity in her voice. That was not the voice that imperiously gave orders. The nurse bowed her head to the floor. She kissed Christa's bare feet.
"Thanks for the whipping," she repeated.

Finally she got up and went to the chapel. She went to the big wooden cross and lay down without hesitation. She stretched her body and spread her arms. Silently she waited for Christa to fasten her on the cross. Christa did it. Zita had already adjusted the cross to her size. Christa first fastened her sister's wrists to the horizontal crossbeam. Then she fixed the nun's feet.

Now Christa walked around the cross to the big iron crank. She started to turn. A small scraping sound sounded, then the cross began to rise. It was easy. The crank was easy to turn. Not long and the cross stood upright. It hit the stop with a small jerk and stopped. Christa saw the safety lever. She put it over so that the cross would not tilt backwards by itself.

Then she rounded the cross and looked at it. She had a living crucifix in front of her. She saw a large wooden cross on which hung a living woman. Sister Zita hovered over her, her feet in the hight of Christa's face. The sight had something sublime beautiful!

Christa could not get enough. Now she understood why Sister Zita had always looked so intensely when Christa was hanging on the cross. It was a nice sight. The nun was hanging on the cross, arms outstretched, knees slightly bent. She hung silently on the wood, a big, strong woman with a massive body.

Christa saw the hard spanned arms, the strained shoulders and the big breasts hovering over prominent ribs. Zita's stomach was pulled flat from being hung up. No trace of fat. Christa glanced over Zita's broad, rounded hips, then down her strong thighs to the nun's feet.

A truly beautiful sight! Only the new pedestal a little disturbed the sight of the whole thing. The wood was too light, Christa thought. You should have taken another kind of wood, she thought. It would look better if the wood had the same color as the rest of the cross.

She saw Sister Cita's clit piercing flashing out between the massive thighs where the sensitive flesh was still red from the flogging of the leather thong. She saw Sister Zita start to sweat. A thin film of sweat covered the naked woman's body on the cross.

Zita moaned softly. She moved on the cross. "Ah!" she said. "I'm atoning! I'm really repenting!" Her eyes lit up. "That's how it should be! I do as I deserve!"
She looked down at Christa with a mild smile. "My child," she said in a gentle voice. "How pretty you look, with a simple dress and bare feet, standing there in front of the cross! Only at the cross you look even more beautiful. Say: Do you love the cross?"

"Yes, sister Zita," Christa answered. "I love the cross with all my heart."
"That's fine," said the sister. Smiling, she looked down at Christa. "Can you imagine repenting forever, girl? Forever until you take into eternity?"
"Yes, sister," said Christa. She did not quite understand. Apparently the nun had wanted to know if she was ready to suffer the rest of her life on the cross daily.
With pleasure!, she thought. I can not imagine anything better!
The thought was arousing.

"You can leave me alone now if you want," said Sister Zita. "Please give me something to drink about every hour. The bottle can be found in the main building in the second bathroom. There you can take fresh water from the tap."

Christa turned to leave Zita alone. At the door she turned once more and looked at the living crucifix. She could not get enough of the naked body on the cross. The bulky nun hung from the leather cuffs tamed on the cross, beautiful in her helplessness.

Christa closed the door and left. She ran to the main building. She marched straight to the room with the room divider. Heart pounding, she approached the wooden post that loomed out of the ground. She looked up at the round wooden knob. Today she did not need to worry that Sister Zita would catch her if she tried it. Sister Zita was hanging in the chapel on the cross.

Christa already wanted to push over the turned knob, then she stopped. She took off the gray summer dress. Now she was stark naked. Yes it should be like that! All naked it was nicer! She went to the stake and leaned against it. The knob pressed against her mound. Christa put her feet a bit apart. She straightened on her toes and pushed her crotch over the post. Slowly she let herself sink. The wooden knob pressed from below into her vagina.

A bright tone flew from Christas lips. She felt the smooth wood penetrate her, as her soft flesh spread there. With a sigh, she sank on the soles of her feet. Now she carried the wood-knob inside her. It was a fantastic feeling. She was really aroused.

She jerked and squeezed a bit. The towering thing held her tight. It was awesome. Christa arched her arms backwards. She pretended that her hands were tied behind her back.
"I'm on sister Zita's pleasure post," she whispered. "I am tethered. I can not get away."The thought aroused her even more.

She turned on her own axis. Because she was wet, her cunt slid on the smooth wooden abutment without resistance. Again, a bright cry flew over Christa´s lips. She moved her pelvis. She swung it back and forth and to the side. The wooden cone squeezed and rubbed in her cunt. That felt so good that Christa had to moan loudly.

"I ride on Sister Zita's pleasure post," she said aloud. Why talk quietly? Nobody could stand outside the door and listen. The only other person in the monastery hung in the Zita chapel on the cross and could not get free.
"Ooooh!" Christa began to ride full of pleasure on the wooden dildo. "Ooh how wonderful!" she sang in a trembling voice. "Oooh!"

"Sister Zita, if you could see me like that! A naked girl who develops indecent feelings on this wooden pole! A naughty, disobedient girl, squirming with pleasure. Oooh! This is very unchaste, sister Zita! Listen? This girl is unseemly! It winds with lust! And how! Oooh!"

Christa rode with pleasure on the pole. She straightened up and let herself sink again. She jerked and shook her pelvis. She danced with joy on the stake. Again and again she uttered small lust cries. Oooh, how good that was! Ooooh, yeah! She had to think about the sister's question. „Can you imagine repenting forever, girl? Forever, until you enter into eternity?"

"Yes, sister Zita, I can do that!" Christa gasped. "I love to hang on the cross! I would really like to be crucified forever!" She squirmed on the stake. She exulted. She sang with pleasure and lust.

She imagined that Sister Zita meant her question in such a way that Christa actually repented forever on the cross. Forever! Christa fantasized a little movie in her head cinema.
She was strapped naked to the cross in the chapel, but she did not come free! Not after six hours and not after twelve! She had to hang on the cross forever!

Christa would be crucified permanently. She would never be allowed to get off the cross again. She would live a life of total dependence. Someone had to feed her. Someone had to wash her regularly, cut her fingernails and toenails. Brush her teeth. She would "puddle" several times a day, and the other ... well ... someone might be able to keep a bedpan under her in the morning.

Christa would never leave the cross again. She would never get away. Oh sweet, everlasting pain. She would get used to it. She would learn to sleep crucified at night. She could no longer shave herself intimate. Someone would use tweezers to simply rip off the regrowing pubic hairs until they no longer grow.

"Oooh! Ooooh! "Christa jerked wildly on the stake. The smooth wooden knob massaged her firm and arousing. She rode on the wood, shouting.
She saw information pages on the Internet in front of her inner eye. "Kloster Obermurscheid with the world-famous Zita-Kapelle. Visit Christa on the cross! Experience a living crucifix! Christa has been living on a cross for more than five years."

"Oh God! Yes. Yes!", Christa shouted. She squirmed on the stake. She passed away with lust. The performance was wonderful. She saw herself hanging in the chapel on the cross, naked and helpless. A guide explained everything. People stood and looked.

Maybe somebody would create a shallow hollow in the ground in front of the cross. There Christa could then "make a puddle". People would step barefoot in this puddle.
It was attributed to the water from the fountain of the cross girl healing powers ...

"Yes! Ooh yes!", cried Christa. She rode even wilder. Now she yodelled like sister Zita on the restraint frame. She hopped up and down on the wooden post, wiggling and shaking her hips.
"I want to repent forever on the cross!" she cried. "Do you hear me, sister Zita? I never want to get off the cross! I want to be crucified forever! At least for a year! One year on the cross, sister Zita!"

Christa came with an outcry. Her impaled body cramped, twitching with lust on the magnificent riding wood.
"Yes! Yes!", She sobbed. "Yes! Yes please! Ooooh!"
Then she sank down with a shaky sigh.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 34

"God, that was cool!" Christa said. She took several deep breaths. She was still standing over the wooden pole sticking out of the ground, as if held in place by the wooden dildo, which stuck in her pussy and widened her. She felt like a prisoner - a prisoner of a special kind.

"I can go away from it if I stand on my toes," she mused aloud. "But what if the stake was a bit higher?" She found herself standing there naked in her head cinema, her hands tied behind her back, and Sister Zita picked her up and slipped her over the post. The smooth wood penetrated her so deeply that Christa could not dismount, even when she straightened on her toes. A wonderful idea!

Christa dismounted from Sister Zita's wooden delight donor. She decided to spy on opportunities in the future where she could use the wonderful thing again. The ride had been fabulous. Of course, the wild fantasy in her mind had also heated up Christa.
She looked at the wooden knob on top of the top of the stake. He was dark, wet and slippery from her arousal.

"Maybe I'll come back to you later," Christa said to the stake. "I liked it." She put on her gray gown and left the room. Where should she go? She had several hours.
"Maybe I can go to the internet with my smartphone and do a bit of research on the monastery?"
But her things were still locked in the closet and Christa had no idea where the keys were.

She went to the room she had first cleaned, the room from whose window one could easily see the old pilgrim's way. She recognized a move far right. She took the binoculars out of the drawer and looked closer. She saw a lonely hiker with a backpack on his back walking along the pilgrimage path.

Christa put the binoculars back in place. She looked from above at the monastery. She saw the monastery church with its high tower.
"I could go to church and pray barefoot," she said. She had to grin. She could experience much more here in the monastery than just praying with bare feet in a church. "I can do that later in the chapel and look at sister Zita."

Christa left the room. She wandered around the building. This time she also went up to the second floor, where she had not been yet. "What this looks like! So ... " She was searching for a suitable word. The rooms were so far clean, but everything looked somehow ... "run down!"
Yes, that was the right term for it. It looked all run down. Just like in the closed houses that used to house the girls' boarding school and the school. Like you do not really care about everything. Were the nuns so careless?

"This is not cleaned properly," said Christa. She looked at the pocket watch. It was time to bring sister Zita water. She filled the water bottle at the tap and went to the chapel.
She found Zita sweating on the cross. She gave the nun plenty to drink. Then she made it like sister Zita: she knelt in front of the cross and prayed. She looked at the crucified woman.

The crucifixion seemed to be pretty hard for Sister Zita. She writhed slowly, moaning. She did not seem able to rest silently on the cross for a minute. The woman was sweating heavily. Small sweat streams ran down her naked body.

After a few minutes Christa rose and she left. She roamed the grounds of the monastery. When she arrived at the front of the two-winged gate that led to the pilgrim's path, she caught a glimpse of the hiker she had previously seen from the first-floor room. The man did not see her. Christa felt very lonely behind the monastery wall.

She visited the cemetery and the monastery garden, where salad, berries and vegetables grew. The garden also looked like there was not enough time to take care of it.
After a while Christa returned to the main building. She sneaked into the room again with Sister Zita's private pleasure donor. She undressed naked and slipped over the smooth wooden knob. Then she rode on the post once more, full of bliss.

"Who knows when I'll get back to that," she said as she put on her dress again. "Sister Zita is always around and watching me." She looked at the clock. Sister Zita. It had been almost two hours since she brought the nun water. Guiltily she ran to the bathroom to fill the bottle.

She stopped in front of the chapel. She put an ear to the door and listened. She heard Sister Zita moan. The nun gasped and whimpered loudly. She moaned loudly.
Christa opened the door. Sister Zita writhed trembling on the cross. She groaned and whimpered loudly.
"Oh God! I can not anymore!" She gasped. "I can not bear it anymore! It really does not work anymore!" She sobbed loudly. "God, that's too much!"

Christa moved forward through the passageway between the pews. She listened to the plaintive whimpering of the nun on the cross.
Three hours! she thought. She has just been crucified for three hours and gets so up! Quite miserable, I think! I did not even do that after six hours!
Christa felt a certain contempt for Sister Zita. How could she be so pathetic?

Then she was ashamed of the nasty feeling. Sister Zita was over forty and she was tall and massive. She weighed almost twice as much as Christa.
I'm just a stalk in the wind, she thought. I am small and petite. I do not weigh much. I can easily bear the cross. But Zita is tall and heavy. The weight that pulls on her arms and shoulders is much higher.

There was something else. The nun's arms were much more spread out than those of Christa when she hung on the cross. Sister Zita had the wrist cuffs fastened far out at the ends of the horizontal bar. As a result, her arms were pulled apart more cruelly.
She probably did that deliberately, thought Christa. To suffer even more! To repent even more!

She went to the cross, pushed the stepladder in front of it, got up, and gave Sister Zita a drink. The sister's face was covered in sweat. Zita drank in deep thirsty features.
"Thanks," she said. "Thanks for the water, girl." She moaned godly. "Ooh how I suffer! It's so terrible! I can not stand! I can not anymore!"
Tears came to her eyes. "Christa? Please, set me free!"

Christa shook her head. "No, sister Zita. You have expressly forbidden me to let you down before the time. I am sorry."
"But I can not bear it!" the nun cried desperately. "I can not stand it any longer, Christa! Please release me!"
Christa shook her head.

She kissed Sister Zita's mouth, at first gentle and tender, then more demanding. She flicked her tongue and forced the woman to grant her access.
Then she began to stroke Zita's big breasts. Immediately, the nipples of Zita straightened up. Christa kissed the breasts. Then she sucked on the nipples.

Sister Zita´s groaning took on a different tone. Now it was no longer a complaint, but a moan of pleasure and lust. Christa ran her right hand down Sister Zita's naked body to the warm, wet area between her thighs. She slid over agitated wetness and fingered the soft place and squeezed gently on the clitoris. Then she let her fingers penetrate Zita.

The nun groaned loudly. As Christas fingers began to dig softly down there, she uttered small cries. Her pelvis lifted from the upright pole and came to meet Christa's hand. Zita writhed in slow twitches on the knowing hand down there, making her whimper. She whimpered with arousement.

Yes, just moan! thought Christa, fiddling on. I know how it feels. It's heavenly and it's even nicer because you're tied up and can not do anything. You have to accept it. Oh, that's good!
She massaged Zitas cunt. The nun writhed sweating on her hand.

Christa worked eagerly on the sister. She did not give Zita time to rest. She brought her with a firm hand to the summit of pleasure. When Zita came, she screamed. She tensed on the cross and hit her head. Then she collapsed in her handcuffs. She smiled happily at Christa, but did not say a word.

Christa gave her a kiss and got off the stepladder. "See you later," she said and left the chapel.

 

[Deleted member 16639]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 35

Outside, Christa wondered if she should stop outside the chapel door to hear if Sister Zita would start to complain again. Then she decided to go to the main building to have something to eat. She found a piece of bread and in the fridge butter and strawberry jam. She made a sandwich and sat down at the desk in the office on the ground floor.

She looked at the papers lying on the table. There were reports of the garden - sowing dates and when the salad shoots had been planted - and letters from church organizations. Christa found material from the Salvation Army and letters from sisters who cared for poor children in the Third World.

Then she suddenly held a simple envelope in her hand. There the address of the monastery was noted.
"To sister Zita, in the monastery of Obermurscheid" stood on the envelope. Curiously Christa took the letter out of the envelope. It was unfair to read other people's mail, but she wanted to know what had been written to Sister Zita.

Christa read and she felt weird with every sentence she read. It was unreal. The letter came from Zita's superior and came from a monastery seventy kilometers away. The matron thanked Zita for keeping her position in Obermurscheid for eight years now. Unfortunately, the money for the necessary renovation of the monastery was again not approved, but the bishop had said that in two to three years, the funding for Obermurscheid could stand.

"As long as you have to hold alone in the monastery, dear sister," wrote the Mother Superior. "God willing, work on the buildings will begin in three years, and who knows, maybe in four or five years we can all return to our own monastery. Stay true and steadfast."

Greetings followed and then the letter was over. Christa read it again as she ate her jam bread. "She's alone in the monastery!" she said into the empty office. "For eight years! And she will stay here alone for years to come!"

She stared at the letter. She felt a pang in her heart.
"Why didn´t she ask if I wanted to stay with her?" Christa was disappointed. She did not understand why Zita had not made this offer.
"I would stay," she said. "Gladly even. I would be her willing and obedient slave. She could do anything with me! She knows that!“

She put the letter back in the envelope. "Why?" She finished her bread and left the room. "Why did she lie to me?" she whispered as she walked across the lawn towards the Zita Chapel. "Why did she say the other sisters would come back in a few weeks? She knew that she would be here alone for another three or four years! Why was she lying? Doesn´t she want me?"

"I could stay here in the monastery!" Christa whispered. "I could give up my apartment and move here. Then I would always be available to her. She could crucify me every day and use me as a working maid. She could tie me up and take me to bed with her. I would completely submit to her."

But the sister had said that in a few weeks the other nuns would return to Obermurscheid! Christa stood at the door to the chapel. Was the nun perhaps afraid of her own obsession? Was that it? Because sister Zita was obsessed in a certain way. It was not normal for a nun to commit herself to a young girl. Nuns did not have sex with young girls and they did not tie and beat girls.

Maybe she's worried she might loose control, Christa mused. Perhaps she fears that her instinct could become too strong. So she told the tale of the soon-to-be-returned nuns to be able to send me away for a while before she can be overwhelmed by her impulses. That's how it could be ...

Nevertheless, Christa felt a huge disappointment. She worshiped sister Zita. She wanted to submit to her unconditionally. She wanted to submit to the rules of the strict nun. She wanted to be an obedient slave girl, barefoot and dressed in a simple gray summer gown.
But sister Zita did not seem to want that, at least not for a long time.

"For a week or two, I'm good enough for her!" Christa whispered indignantly. "Then she sent me away! That's mean!"
Then she thought it over. Maybe the nun had said that with the other nuns only at the beginning to keep all options open. Maybe she had changed her mind by now? Maybe she wanted to keep Christa?

It also went up, since Christa helped with the cleaning. At least the main building of the monastery did not look so degenerate anymore.
I can help in the garden too, she thought, and I can look after the graves in the cemetery. She just has to let me do!

"What should I do?" asked Christa. "I can not ask her questions. I do not dare. She has to decide! Oh please keep me, sister Zita! You're welcome! You can do with me what you want! I submit to you unconditionally! You can always have me!"

She leaned against the door of the chapel and put her ear to the wood. Inside she heard soft whining. Carefully, she opened the door and looked inside. Sister Zita hung outstretched on the cross and whimpered. She breathed intermittently and made a low, never-ending whimpering sound. After a while she reared up. That seemed painful, because she screamed.

The nun slowly writhed at the cross. She whimpered constantly. Creeks of sweat ran down her naked body. She did not notice Christa.
"Mother Mary, forgive me in your mercy!" she groaned. "Please forgive my sins and release me!" Now she saw Christa standing by the door. She pulled herself up by the crossbar: "Christa! My dear penitent girl! Please come to me!" Christa walked through the chapel. She stopped in front of the cross. The nun looked pleadingly at her: "Christa, you have to let me down right now! Please set me free! "

Christa did nothing.
"Christa! Please!" the nun shouted.
Christa saw a puddle on the ground in front of her. She made sure not to step inside. She had wanted to kneel and pray, but she changed her mind. She went to the pews and knelt there in a bank. She looked up at Sister Zita, who whimpered on the cross, pleading with her to set her free.

Christa did not do anything like that. She grabbed herself between the legs and began to stimulate herself, but she did not take her eyes off the huge, powerful woman's body writhing beneath sweat streams on the cross. It was nice to secretly masturbate while watching Zita. To see the sister so helpless aroused Christa beyond measure.

But to the outside she seemed very calm. Nobody could see, that she just had the most beautiful sex with herself. Sister Zita could not see from the cross that Christa's hand was working in her lap.

Did she do that too? Christa wondered as she masturbated with relish. When she was kneeling in front of me and looking at me on the cross, she often had her hands in her nun's robe. Did she do it to herself while staring at me?

When Christa came, she made a great effort not to let it show. She knelt for a while in the pew. Then she got up and left. Sister Zita lamented after her. It was not until she was outside that she remembered that she had not given the nun anything to drink.

The next time Christa went to the chapel, she gave Sister Zita a drink. This time, the nun did not plead for premature departure from the cross. She hung silently on the beam and suffered. She thanked her for the water. The rest of her crucifixion was endured by Zita in silence. After the time came, Christa rolled down the cross and freed the sister.
"Thank you, my child," Zita said. "It's good that you've stuck to the given time. You were right, girl. "

Zita got to her feet: "I'm taking a shower. After that we want to make ourselves comfortable with coffee and cake, right? Come in half an hour behind the house."
She left, naked as she was. The discarded sisters robe carried her over her arm.

Christa got cleaning supplies and cleaned the puddle in front of the cross. When she tried to clear everything, she hit an iron bar leaning against the wall behind the cross. Clattering, the thing fell over. Christa heard a clinking. Startled, she spun around.

"Geez!" The pole had struck one of the chapel's high stained-glass windows and smashed part of a colorful mosaic. In the window gaped an opening as large as the diameter of a cleaning bucket. Shards were not on the ground. They had all flown outside when the window had burst.

Guiltily, Christa picked up the iron bar and put it back against the wall. She looked at the damage in the window. If you did not look closely, it was hardly noticeable. She decided not to tell Sister Zita at first. She feared the nun might get angry. Repairing such a window was certainly expensive and money was not there. She sneaked away, hoping the nurse would not notice the broken window.

 

[atzehes]

The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 35

Outside, Christa wondered if she should stop outside the chapel door to hear if Sister Zita would start to complain again. Then she decided to go to the main building to have something to eat. She found a piece of bread and in the fridge butter and strawberry jam. She made a sandwich and sat down at the desk in the office on the ground floor.

She looked at the papers lying on the table. There were reports of the garden - sowing dates and when the salad shoots had been planted - and letters from church organizations. Christa found material from the Salvation Army and letters from sisters who cared for poor children in the Third World.

Then she suddenly held a simple envelope in her hand. There the address of the monastery was noted.
"To sister Zita, in the monastery of Obermurscheid" stood on the envelope. Curiously Christa took the letter out of the envelope. It was unfair to read other people's mail, but she wanted to know what had been written to Sister Zita.

Christa read and she felt weird with every sentence she read. It was unreal. The letter came from Zita's superior and came from a monastery seventy kilometers away. The matron thanked Zita for keeping her position in Obermurscheid for eight years now. Unfortunately, the money for the necessary renovation of the monastery was again not approved, but the bishop had said that in two to three years, the funding for Obermurscheid could stand.

"As long as you have to hold alone in the monastery, dear sister," wrote the Mother Superior. "God willing, work on the buildings will begin in three years, and who knows, maybe in four or five years we can all return to our own monastery. Stay true and steadfast."

Greetings followed and then the letter was over. Christa read it again as she ate her jam bread. "She's alone in the monastery!" she said into the empty office. "For eight years! And she will stay here alone for years to come!"

She stared at the letter. She felt a pang in her heart.
"Why didn´t she ask if I wanted to stay with her?" Christa was disappointed. She did not understand why Zita had not made this offer.
"I would stay," she said. "Gladly even. I would be her willing and obedient slave. She could do anything with me! She knows that!“

She put the letter back in the envelope. "Why?" She finished her bread and left the room. "Why did she lie to me?" she whispered as she walked across the lawn towards the Zita Chapel. "Why did she say the other sisters would come back in a few weeks? She knew that she would be here alone for another three or four years! Why was she lying? Doesn´t she want me?"

"I could stay here in the monastery!" Christa whispered. "I could give up my apartment and move here. Then I would always be available to her. She could crucify me every day and use me as a working maid. She could tie me up and take me to bed with her. I would completely submit to her."

But the sister had said that in a few weeks the other nuns would return to Obermurscheid! Christa stood at the door to the chapel. Was the nun perhaps afraid of her own obsession? Was that it? Because sister Zita was obsessed in a certain way. It was not normal for a nun to commit herself to a young girl. Nuns did not have sex with young girls and they did not tie and beat girls.

Maybe she's worried she might loose control, Christa mused. Perhaps she fears that her instinct could become too strong. So she told the tale of the soon-to-be-returned nuns to be able to send me away for a while before she can be overwhelmed by her impulses. That's how it could be ...

Nevertheless, Christa felt a huge disappointment. She worshiped sister Zita. She wanted to submit to her unconditionally. She wanted to submit to the rules of the strict nun. She wanted to be an obedient slave girl, barefoot and dressed in a simple gray summer gown.
But sister Zita did not seem to want that, at least not for a long time.

"For a week or two, I'm good enough for her!" Christa whispered indignantly. "Then she sent me away! That's mean!"
Then she thought it over. Maybe the nun had said that with the other nuns only at the beginning to keep all options open. Maybe she had changed her mind by now? Maybe she wanted to keep Christa?

It also went up, since Christa helped with the cleaning. At least the main building of the monastery did not look so degenerate anymore.
I can help in the garden too, she thought, and I can look after the graves in the cemetery. She just has to let me do!

"What should I do?" asked Christa. "I can not ask her questions. I do not dare. She has to decide! Oh please keep me, sister Zita! You're welcome! You can do with me what you want! I submit to you unconditionally! You can always have me!"

She leaned against the door of the chapel and put her ear to the wood. Inside she heard soft whining. Carefully, she opened the door and looked inside. Sister Zita hung outstretched on the cross and whimpered. She breathed intermittently and made a low, never-ending whimpering sound. After a while she reared up. That seemed painful, because she screamed.

The nun slowly writhed at the cross. She whimpered constantly. Creeks of sweat ran down her naked body. She did not notice Christa.
"Mother Mary, forgive me in your mercy!" she groaned. "Please forgive my sins and release me!" Now she saw Christa standing by the door. She pulled herself up by the crossbar: "Christa! My dear penitent girl! Please come to me!" Christa walked through the chapel. She stopped in front of the cross. The nun looked pleadingly at her: "Christa, you have to let me down right now! Please set me free! "

Christa did nothing.
"Christa! Please!" the nun shouted.
Christa saw a puddle on the ground in front of her. She made sure not to step inside. She had wanted to kneel and pray, but she changed her mind. She went to the pews and knelt there in a bank. She looked up at Sister Zita, who whimpered on the cross, pleading with her to set her free.

Christa did not do anything like that. She grabbed herself between the legs and began to stimulate herself, but she did not take her eyes off the huge, powerful woman's body writhing beneath sweat streams on the cross. It was nice to secretly masturbate while watching Zita. To see the sister so helpless aroused Christa beyond measure.

But to the outside she seemed very calm. Nobody could see, that she just had the most beautiful sex with herself. Sister Zita could not see from the cross that Christa's hand was working in her lap.

Did she do that too? Christa wondered as she masturbated with relish. When she was kneeling in front of me and looking at me on the cross, she often had her hands in her nun's robe. Did she do it to herself while staring at me?

When Christa came, she made a great effort not to let it show. She knelt for a while in the pew. Then she got up and left. Sister Zita lamented after her. It was not until she was outside that she remembered that she had not given the nun anything to drink.

The next time Christa went to the chapel, she gave Sister Zita a drink. This time, the nun did not plead for premature departure from the cross. She hung silently on the beam and suffered. She thanked her for the water. The rest of her crucifixion was endured by Zita in silence. After the time came, Christa rolled down the cross and freed the sister.
"Thank you, my child," Zita said. "It's good that you've stuck to the given time. You were right, girl. "

Zita got to her feet: "I'm taking a shower. After that we want to make ourselves comfortable with coffee and cake, right? Come in half an hour behind the house."
She left, naked as she was. The discarded sisters robe carried her over her arm.

Christa got cleaning supplies and cleaned the puddle in front of the cross. When she tried to clear everything, she hit an iron bar leaning against the wall behind the cross. Clattering, the thing fell over. Christa heard a clinking. Startled, she spun around.

"Geez!" The pole had struck one of the chapel's high stained-glass windows and smashed part of a colorful mosaic. In the window gaped an opening as large as the diameter of a cleaning bucket. Shards were not on the ground. They had all flown outside when the window had burst.

Guiltily, Christa picked up the iron bar and put it back against the wall. She looked at the damage in the window. If you did not look closely, it was hardly noticeable. She decided not to tell Sister Zita at first. She feared the nun might get angry. Repairing such a window was certainly expensive and money was not there. She sneaked away, hoping the nurse would not notice the broken window.

Shit happens! ... But what consequences will that have for Christa?