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

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Sassi said:
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.
Click to expand...
As always - lack of communication is the greatest danger for a relationship.
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 36

This time Christa was not tied up during coffee and cake. She could serve herself. Sister Zita reached a good dose. She was in a great mood and spoke without ceasing. She listed what they would do in the following days.
"We have to take care of the vegetable garden," she said happily. "One more month and the first strawberries are ripe. We will make jam. There's nothing like homemade jam."

I will not be here until then, Christa thought. Or has she changed her mind and keeps me? May I stay? Oh I want so much!

Sister Zita lifted Christa's legs and laid the girls bare feet in her lap. She caressed Christas feet tenderly and kissed them occasionally. Christa kept devoutly and let the nun do it. All the while, she waited for Sister Zita to ask her if she would stay with her for the following years. But she waited in vain.

In the evening, the sister took Christa to her bed. She had to strip naked and the nun tied her hands on her back with a rope. Christa enjoyed the bondage. She loved it when the nun made her helpless with the rope and she had to accept everything Zita did to her. The woman picked her up and put her at the foot of the bed.

Zita also undressed naked. She came to Christa at bed. She took a pillow and put it under her butt. Then she put her arms under her back, so she lay there as if her hands were tied behind her like Christa's. She spread her thighs and put her feet right and left on the bed, so that her naked lap was openly presented.

Christa did not know at first what Zita expected of her. She could not satisfy the nun with her mouth. If she knelt between the woman's open thighs and leaned forward to reach her cunt with her mouth, she would tip forward because she could not support herself because of her bound hands.

In order to reach Sister Zita's genitals with her bound hands, she had to turn around and slip awkwardly between the woman's splayed thighs.
What does she want from me? Christa thought.

Zita looked at her. "Penitentiary girl," she said hoarsely. "Barefoot penitent girl. Use your bare feet, my child! Your little pretty princess feet!"
Christa understood. She stretched out her right leg. Her bare foot touched the nun between her legs. She put down her foot and squeezed and rubbed gently. Zita groaned.

Christa ran her foot over Zita's gap. She rubbed up and down. She felt the slippery heat there between Zitas open thighs and began rubbing. She pressed her heel into the cleft and pressed and jerked.
Sister Zita began to gasp. She whimpered. She wound her under Christa's rubbing foot.

"Oooh!" She shouted in a shaky voice. "Ooh little barefoot penitent girl! Ooh! Yes! Be barefoot! Kick me with your bare feet!"
Christa kicked her. Not hard. Only gentle. She let her foot rhythmically patter on Zita's cunt. Then she squeezed into the gap and let her foot glide up and down on the damp, aroused flesh.

Zita squirmed. She spread her legs as if she wanted to split in the middle. She whimpered loudly. She gasped. She let out small cries.
Christa started digging her wet toes in sister Zita's cunt. She let her toes glide over the clit and then she penetrated with her narrow foot in Zita and pushed again and again.

The sister began to yodel. She writhed on the bed like a bucking horse. She stammered choppy sentences. "Penitent girl! Ooh you sweet little penitential girl with pretty bare feet! My little sweet barefoot penitent girl! Kick me with your tender little feet! Ooh penitent girl! Barefoot girl! Pilgrim girl!"

The woman rode on Christa's foot. She wriggled and squirmed. She was sweating. Her big breasts surged. She gasped and screamed. She yodelled so loudly that the walls of the room threw back a distorted echo.

Christa kicked and rubbed eagerly. She let her bare foot slide up and down on Sister Zitas cunt. She squeezed her heel shaking into the heated wet crack. She was diligently digging her toes and she kept invading the woman. Zita whimpered in the highest tones. It almost sounded like cries of pain.

"Penitentiary girl!" she called again and again. "Oooh, my sweet little obedient penitent girl with her bare feet! Kick me with your pretty little feet pilgrim girl! Come on! Kick me! With your bare feet!"
Then she came. She reared up and shouted loudly. Her whole body trembled, a flesh-mountain in ecstatic arousal. Christa shook her foot until Zita's orgasm subsided. Then she pulled her leg back.

Zita lay sobbing on her back. She gasped and sighed. Then she pulled her arms out from under her back. She sat up, lunged at Christa and grabbed her with her thick wrestler arms. "Penitentiary girl!" she exclaimed exuberantly. "My sweet good little penitential girl! Oh how obedient and servant you are!"

She hugged Christa, pressing her face between her big heavy breasts. Then she fucked Christa with her hand. She took her so hard that it almost hurt. She took possession and shook powerful and bossy. "Thou shalt be mine, penitent girl!" the nun gasped. "Mine! Do you hear? I want to keep you forever!"She fucked Christa recklessly. Christa gasped and groaned.
"Want to keep you!" the sister repeated. "You should forever be on the cross! Do you understand, Pilgrim Girl?"
"Yes, sister," Christa blurted as the great woman's hand raked and shook between her thighs. Christa squirmed with pleasure. "Yes! Yes sister Zita!"

"I want you to suffer!" the nun exclaimed. Her voice was hoarse with arousal. "I want to see you suffer on the cross! I want to see how you do true repentance! Are you ready for that?"
"Yes, sister!", cried Christa. She was happy. Zita wanted to keep her. The nun would completely subjugate her and make her her personal slave. Christa would be crucified every day in the following years. She was overjoyed.

The nun roughly squeezed. She aroused Christa with sheer force. She overpowered Christa. She raped her.
Christa squirmed under the imperious hand that completely dominated her. She gave herself up.
"Do whatever you want with me, Sister Zita!" she exclaimed. "Do it! Do whatever you want! Proceed with me at will! I submit!"

Now it was said. She had said it aloud.
"Penitentiary girl!", shouted Zita and fucked Christa even harder. "My little repentant pilgrim girl! Are you ready for absolute submission?"
"Yes, sister!", cried Christa.
"Are you ready to take on any pain on the cross?"
"Yes Sister! Yes!"

"I'll make you suffer, penitent!" gasped Zita. "I'll make you atone!" She was sweating with arousal as she powerfully led Christa to orgasm with her hand and finally forced her to climax.
When Christa came, she screamed loudly. "I submit!" she screamed. "Do whatever you want with me, sister! I submit!"

Later, she was handcuffed in the arms of the strong woman, who now dominated her completely. Christa's heart beat with joy. It had become reality! Zita would keep her. She would go to the convent and be the obedient submissive slave of the sister for all those years, until the convent was reopened.

If that would ever be the case! Zita told her that she had great doubts. As she held Christa in her thick, strong arms and covered her face with kisses, she said that the Mother Superior once again wrote her a letter. But such letters arrived with beautiful regularity every year.

Christa was satisfied. This meant a span of many years that she could stay in the convent with sister Zita, as a barefoot humble slave girl.
Christa passed away with happiness.
 
Sassi said:
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 36

This time Christa was not tied up during coffee and cake. She could serve herself. Sister Zita reached a good dose. She was in a great mood and spoke without ceasing. She listed what they would do in the following days.
"We have to take care of the vegetable garden," she said happily. "One more month and the first strawberries are ripe. We will make jam. There's nothing like homemade jam."

I will not be here until then, Christa thought. Or has she changed her mind and keeps me? May I stay? Oh I want so much!

Sister Zita lifted Christa's legs and laid the girls bare feet in her lap. She caressed Christas feet tenderly and kissed them occasionally. Christa kept devoutly and let the nun do it. All the while, she waited for Sister Zita to ask her if she would stay with her for the following years. But she waited in vain.

In the evening, the sister took Christa to her bed. She had to strip naked and the nun tied her hands on her back with a rope. Christa enjoyed the bondage. She loved it when the nun made her helpless with the rope and she had to accept everything Zita did to her. The woman picked her up and put her at the foot of the bed.

Zita also undressed naked. She came to Christa at bed. She took a pillow and put it under her butt. Then she put her arms under her back, so she lay there as if her hands were tied behind her like Christa's. She spread her thighs and put her feet right and left on the bed, so that her naked lap was openly presented.

Christa did not know at first what Zita expected of her. She could not satisfy the nun with her mouth. If she knelt between the woman's open thighs and leaned forward to reach her cunt with her mouth, she would tip forward because she could not support herself because of her bound hands.

In order to reach Sister Zita's genitals with her bound hands, she had to turn around and slip awkwardly between the woman's splayed thighs.
What does she want from me? Christa thought.

Zita looked at her. "Penitentiary girl," she said hoarsely. "Barefoot penitent girl. Use your bare feet, my child! Your little pretty princess feet!"
Christa understood. She stretched out her right leg. Her bare foot touched the nun between her legs. She put down her foot and squeezed and rubbed gently. Zita groaned.

Christa ran her foot over Zita's gap. She rubbed up and down. She felt the slippery heat there between Zitas open thighs and began rubbing. She pressed her heel into the cleft and pressed and jerked.
Sister Zita began to gasp. She whimpered. She wound her under Christa's rubbing foot.

"Oooh!" She shouted in a shaky voice. "Ooh little barefoot penitent girl! Ooh! Yes! Be barefoot! Kick me with your bare feet!"
Christa kicked her. Not hard. Only gentle. She let her foot rhythmically patter on Zita's cunt. Then she squeezed into the gap and let her foot glide up and down on the damp, aroused flesh.

Zita squirmed. She spread her legs as if she wanted to split in the middle. She whimpered loudly. She gasped. She let out small cries.
Christa started digging her wet toes in sister Zita's cunt. She let her toes glide over the clit and then she penetrated with her narrow foot in Zita and pushed again and again.

The sister began to yodel. She writhed on the bed like a bucking horse. She stammered choppy sentences. "Penitent girl! Ooh you sweet little penitential girl with pretty bare feet! My little sweet barefoot penitent girl! Kick me with your tender little feet! Ooh penitent girl! Barefoot girl! Pilgrim girl!"

The woman rode on Christa's foot. She wriggled and squirmed. She was sweating. Her big breasts surged. She gasped and screamed. She yodelled so loudly that the walls of the room threw back a distorted echo.

Christa kicked and rubbed eagerly. She let her bare foot slide up and down on Sister Zitas cunt. She squeezed her heel shaking into the heated wet crack. She was diligently digging her toes and she kept invading the woman. Zita whimpered in the highest tones. It almost sounded like cries of pain.

"Penitentiary girl!" she called again and again. "Oooh, my sweet little obedient penitent girl with her bare feet! Kick me with your pretty little feet pilgrim girl! Come on! Kick me! With your bare feet!"
Then she came. She reared up and shouted loudly. Her whole body trembled, a flesh-mountain in ecstatic arousal. Christa shook her foot until Zita's orgasm subsided. Then she pulled her leg back.

Zita lay sobbing on her back. She gasped and sighed. Then she pulled her arms out from under her back. She sat up, lunged at Christa and grabbed her with her thick wrestler arms. "Penitentiary girl!" she exclaimed exuberantly. "My sweet good little penitential girl! Oh how obedient and servant you are!"

She hugged Christa, pressing her face between her big heavy breasts. Then she fucked Christa with her hand. She took her so hard that it almost hurt. She took possession and shook powerful and bossy. "Thou shalt be mine, penitent girl!" the nun gasped. "Mine! Do you hear? I want to keep you forever!"She fucked Christa recklessly. Christa gasped and groaned.
"Want to keep you!" the sister repeated. "You should forever be on the cross! Do you understand, Pilgrim Girl?"
"Yes, sister," Christa blurted as the great woman's hand raked and shook between her thighs. Christa squirmed with pleasure. "Yes! Yes sister Zita!"

"I want you to suffer!" the nun exclaimed. Her voice was hoarse with arousal. "I want to see you suffer on the cross! I want to see how you do true repentance! Are you ready for that?"
"Yes, sister!", cried Christa. She was happy. Zita wanted to keep her. The nun would completely subjugate her and make her her personal slave. Christa would be crucified every day in the following years. She was overjoyed.

The nun roughly squeezed. She aroused Christa with sheer force. She overpowered Christa. She raped her.
Christa squirmed under the imperious hand that completely dominated her. She gave herself up.
"Do whatever you want with me, Sister Zita!" she exclaimed. "Do it! Do whatever you want! Proceed with me at will! I submit!"

Now it was said. She had said it aloud.
"Penitentiary girl!", shouted Zita and fucked Christa even harder. "My little repentant pilgrim girl! Are you ready for absolute submission?"
"Yes, sister!", cried Christa.
"Are you ready to take on any pain on the cross?"
"Yes Sister! Yes!"

"I'll make you suffer, penitent!" gasped Zita. "I'll make you atone!" She was sweating with arousal as she powerfully led Christa to orgasm with her hand and finally forced her to climax.
When Christa came, she screamed loudly. "I submit!" she screamed. "Do whatever you want with me, sister! I submit!"

Later, she was handcuffed in the arms of the strong woman, who now dominated her completely. Christa's heart beat with joy. It had become reality! Zita would keep her. She would go to the convent and be the obedient submissive slave of the sister for all those years, until the convent was reopened.

If that would ever be the case! Zita told her that she had great doubts. As she held Christa in her thick, strong arms and covered her face with kisses, she said that the Mother Superior once again wrote her a letter. But such letters arrived with beautiful regularity every year.

Christa was satisfied. This meant a span of many years that she could stay in the convent with sister Zita, as a barefoot humble slave girl.
Christa passed away with happiness.
Click to expand...

Be careful what you wish for...
5922a6f0e7afba428e55b6fa9c4c5696.jpg
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 37

30 April 2080:
When Christa awoke the following morning, naked and with her hands tied behind her in Sister Zita's bed, she was still blessed. She was allowed to stay! The sister would keep her in the monastery. Christa died of bliss. She would be the humblest and most docile slave girl of all time. She would obey Sister Zita and do whatever the nun could think of. She was ready to endure everything. If need be, even an occasional flogging.

Zita untied Christa's hands and sent her to the morning toilet. After she finished, Christa put on a fresh stint dress and went to her master.
They had breakfast together. Then they went outside. The nun led Christa to the chapel. Christa followed well.

At the door of the chapel sister Zita stopped. She looked at Christa. "Are you still ready for absolute submission, girl?"
Christa nodded, "Yes, sister."
"Are you ready to take on any pain on the cross?"
"Yes, sister," said Christa humbly. "Proceed with me at will. I submit."

"I'll make you suffer, penitent girl," said the nun. She hugged Christa and kissed her heartfelt.
"Do whatever you want with me, sister," Christa said humbly. "Do me whatever you want. I am your obedient servant."

"You sweet little thing!" Sister Zita said and kissed Christa again. She opened the door of the chapel. "Come now, my child. The cross is waiting for you."
Christa went to the chapel with the nun.

She immediately saw that something was different. It took a moment for her to figure it out. The bondage! The leather cuffs were gone. Instead, ropes were tied around the bars of the cross. The ends of the ropes were open - ready to pick up and bind wrists and ankles. They were located exactly in the middle between two holes, where otherwise the threaded bolts of the leather restraints were pushed through.

Christa stared at the ropes. She recoiled. She did not like the sight. The ropes looked kind of bad. The ropes looked like snakes of pale moonlight. To look at the things gave her a ungood feeling in the stomach.

"What´s up?", Sister Zita asked kindly. She floated to the cross on bare soles and pointed to the ropes: "No leather cuffs today, Christa. Ropes will keep you on the cross." She came to Christa: "Consider it as a rite of initiation. You shall be bound on the cross, held by ropes on the beams. Do not worry, you will not wear the ropes for long. It's just an exam, my child. You show your consent to submission."

Zita stroked Christas cheek: "You still want to stay here?"
"Yes, sister," Christa replied.
"Forever?" The nun asked.
"Yes, sister," said Christa. "Tomorrow is May 1," said the nun. "You could then sign a contract that seals your submission. A detailed slave contract that makes you my maid and demands from you everlasting obedience and humble devotion."

Zita hugged Christa and kissed her. Then she looked at the girl with bright eyes: "Do you want that, Christa?"
"Yes, sister," Christa answered. "That's what I want. I want to be your obedient slave girl."
"Then take off your clothes and get on the cross!" said Sister Zita. "With this you can show your obedience."

Christa took off her dress. She still had a strange feeling. She did not like the ropes. They were very thin. They could cut into her wrists and cause injury there, bruising the tendons and ligaments. Christa did not like being tied to the cross with these thin ropes. She was afraid of it. But she had no choice. She had to obey Sister Zita if she wanted to stay in the monastery and become a slave girl.

"You will not wear the ropes for long," Zita had said. Perhaps she could bear it for a short time without causing physical damage?
She looked at sister Zita: "The ropes? How long …?"
The nun smiled pleasantly at her: "Not long, my child. Only a short time. It's nothing but an exam. You show that you are ready to submit to true penance."

All right, Christa thought. If it's only for a short time ... Naked she walked to the cross and lay down on it. She stretched out and spread her arms.
"That's fine, my child," the nun said gently. "I'm fastening you now, girl. Keep still!"

Christa kept still, but it was hard for her. She watched as Sister Zita put her right wrist on the rope tied to the right side of the crossbeam. It had once been wrapped around the beam and then a knot had been made. There on the knot was her wrist now. The nun grabbed the two protruding pieces of rope, led them over Christas wrist, pulled tight and made a double knot over the joint.

How does she want to get this hard little knot open later? Christa mused. That is impossible! She probably has to cut me off with a knife after my crucifixion.
She pulled on the bondage. The thin rope cruelly cut her wrist.
How will it be if my whole body weight hangs on this?, she thought. If only that works!

Sister Zita circled the cross and tied Christa's left hand the same way. Then she turned to Christa's feet. Christa raised her head and watched. Sister Zita wrapped the overhanging ends twice around Christa's ankles. Then she pulled the rope between her ankles before making a small, hard double knot.

Christa tested the bondage. It held. She could not pull her hands or feet out of the rope loops. She was tied to the cross. But could these thin ropes keep her on the cross? Christa had some doubts.

Sister Zita smiled down at her. Then she turned and walked to the door that led to the next room.
What is coming now? Christa wondered. It's getting weirder than weird!

The sister came back. She carried something in both hands. Christa heard a soft metallic click. Zita came to the cross. When Christa saw what the nun was holding in her hands, she became icy cold. Her whole body covered with goose bumps and her stomach contracted into a small hot ball.

Sister Zita had a hammer in one hand and four long nails in the other.
 
Sassi said:
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 37

30 April 2080:
When Christa awoke the following morning, naked and with her hands tied behind her in Sister Zita's bed, she was still blessed. She was allowed to stay! The sister would keep her in the monastery. Christa died of bliss. She would be the humblest and most docile slave girl of all time. She would obey Sister Zita and do whatever the nun could think of. She was ready to endure everything. If need be, even an occasional flogging.

Zita untied Christa's hands and sent her to the morning toilet. After she finished, Christa put on a fresh stint dress and went to her master.
They had breakfast together. Then they went outside. The nun led Christa to the chapel. Christa followed well.

At the door of the chapel sister Zita stopped. She looked at Christa. "Are you still ready for absolute submission, girl?"
Christa nodded, "Yes, sister."
"Are you ready to take on any pain on the cross?"
"Yes, sister," said Christa humbly. "Proceed with me at will. I submit."

"I'll make you suffer, penitent girl," said the nun. She hugged Christa and kissed her heartfelt.
"Do whatever you want with me, sister," Christa said humbly. "Do me whatever you want. I am your obedient servant."

"You sweet little thing!" Sister Zita said and kissed Christa again. She opened the door of the chapel. "Come now, my child. The cross is waiting for you."
Christa went to the chapel with the nun.

She immediately saw that something was different. It took a moment for her to figure it out. The bondage! The leather cuffs were gone. Instead, ropes were tied around the bars of the cross. The ends of the ropes were open - ready to pick up and bind wrists and ankles. They were located exactly in the middle between two holes, where otherwise the threaded bolts of the leather restraints were pushed through.

Christa stared at the ropes. She recoiled. She did not like the sight. The ropes looked kind of bad. The ropes looked like snakes of pale moonlight. To look at the things gave her a ungood feeling in the stomach.

"What´s up?", Sister Zita asked kindly. She floated to the cross on bare soles and pointed to the ropes: "No leather cuffs today, Christa. Ropes will keep you on the cross." She came to Christa: "Consider it as a rite of initiation. You shall be bound on the cross, held by ropes on the beams. Do not worry, you will not wear the ropes for long. It's just an exam, my child. You show your consent to submission."

Zita stroked Christas cheek: "You still want to stay here?"
"Yes, sister," Christa replied.
"Forever?" The nun asked.
"Yes, sister," said Christa. "Tomorrow is May 1," said the nun. "You could then sign a contract that seals your submission. A detailed slave contract that makes you my maid and demands from you everlasting obedience and humble devotion."

Zita hugged Christa and kissed her. Then she looked at the girl with bright eyes: "Do you want that, Christa?"
"Yes, sister," Christa answered. "That's what I want. I want to be your obedient slave girl."
"Then take off your clothes and get on the cross!" said Sister Zita. "With this you can show your obedience."

Christa took off her dress. She still had a strange feeling. She did not like the ropes. They were very thin. They could cut into her wrists and cause injury there, bruising the tendons and ligaments. Christa did not like being tied to the cross with these thin ropes. She was afraid of it. But she had no choice. She had to obey Sister Zita if she wanted to stay in the monastery and become a slave girl.

"You will not wear the ropes for long," Zita had said. Perhaps she could bear it for a short time without causing physical damage?
She looked at sister Zita: "The ropes? How long …?"
The nun smiled pleasantly at her: "Not long, my child. Only a short time. It's nothing but an exam. You show that you are ready to submit to true penance."

All right, Christa thought. If it's only for a short time ... Naked she walked to the cross and lay down on it. She stretched out and spread her arms.
"That's fine, my child," the nun said gently. "I'm fastening you now, girl. Keep still!"

Christa kept still, but it was hard for her. She watched as Sister Zita put her right wrist on the rope tied to the right side of the crossbeam. It had once been wrapped around the beam and then a knot had been made. There on the knot was her wrist now. The nun grabbed the two protruding pieces of rope, led them over Christas wrist, pulled tight and made a double knot over the joint.

How does she want to get this hard little knot open later? Christa mused. That is impossible! She probably has to cut me off with a knife after my crucifixion.
She pulled on the bondage. The thin rope cruelly cut her wrist.
How will it be if my whole body weight hangs on this?, she thought. If only that works!

Sister Zita circled the cross and tied Christa's left hand the same way. Then she turned to Christa's feet. Christa raised her head and watched. Sister Zita wrapped the overhanging ends twice around Christa's ankles. Then she pulled the rope between her ankles before making a small, hard double knot.

Christa tested the bondage. It held. She could not pull her hands or feet out of the rope loops. She was tied to the cross. But could these thin ropes keep her on the cross? Christa had some doubts.

Sister Zita smiled down at her. Then she turned and walked to the door that led to the next room.
What is coming now? Christa wondered. It's getting weirder than weird!

The sister came back. She carried something in both hands. Christa heard a soft metallic click. Zita came to the cross. When Christa saw what the nun was holding in her hands, she became icy cold. Her whole body covered with goose bumps and her stomach contracted into a small hot ball.

Sister Zita had a hammer in one hand and four long nails in the other.
Click to expand...
The final crucifixion! I guessed it at the moment when the disappeared boarding girls were mentioned.
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 38

Christa's eyes widened. A gasp flew over her lips. Her heart started to beat.
No! she thought. No! This can not be true! I have to be wrong! I did not look right! That just can not be true!

But Sister Zita floated on her bare feet through the chapel to the cross where Christa was helplessly tied, and the hammer and the nails were still in her hands. The nun wore a fine smile on her face. Without haste she came to Christa.

"Sister! Sister Zita!" Christa stammered. "What are you doing? Please, do not do that!"
The nun leaned over the girl on the cross: "The day has come, my child. Today you will truly repent. You will follow our Lord in full consequence and repent on the cross." Zita smiled: "I know you want it!"

Christa shook her head. She was freezing cold. She was sick with fear.
"No, sister Zita!" she called. "Not that! Do not do that! Let me go! Free me!"
"But not at all!" the nun said unctuously. "You will now experience what it is like to show true penitence. All the crucifixions with the leather cuffs were only preparation for that one day, my child."

She put the nails on the cross, one each beside Christa's hands and two at her feet. Christa panicked. "Sister Zita, listen! I do not want that! y penitence doesn´t go that far!"
"That doesn´t matter, little one," said the nun. "You know the cross. It will demand the necessary penitence as well as humility and devotion. That's why you're tied up. So you can not shy away at the last moment. The ropes should help you become one with the cross."

Christas panic increased. "No!" she screamed, pulling on the ropes that held her on the cross. "I do not want to do that! Sister Zita I want to repent! For all time! But in a way that leaves me alive! I do not wanna die!"
"We all have to die," said the nun sincerely. "So do you, my child. Your time has come. You will do the highest possible penance and go to our Lord. Amen!"

Christa started to cry. "Oh please, sister Zita! Please do not do this to me! I am still so young! I do not want to die!" She started to stammer. She explained to the nun that she wanted to stay with her to repent on the cross every day, for the sins of humanity, but please not die! She wanted to live to atone for the sins of the world.

Sister Zita picked up a nail - it was the one who was lying next to Christa's right hand.
"Thou shalt not atone for the sins of the world!" she said in a hard voice. A terrible fire burned in her eyes. "Thou shalt repent for your OWN sins!"
She set the nail on Christa's right hand exactly where she had described it to her some time ago: right between the balls of her hands.

Christa watched in horror as she felt the tip of the nail searching for the right spot. It was a big iron carpenter nail fifteen inches long and almost a centimeter thick. She could not believe what she saw. It was too unreal.
She felt like she was in a bad dream. At any moment, she expected to wake up in her bed. But this was not a bad dream, she knew that. She was scared like never before in her life.

"Sister Zita, do not do that! Please, if you nail me, you´ll kill me!"
"Death is part of life," said the nun. She smiled at Christa, with that terrible fire in her eyes, and Christa recognized the madness in those eyes that she had looked at so often when she was hanging naked on the cross. Sister Zita raised the hammer.
"No!" Christa screamed.
"Yes!" said the nun in a hard voice. Then she struck.

Nothing had prepared Christa for this pain. She not only heard the hammer blow, she felt it! She felt the nail penetrate deep into her hand, piercing her hand with several hammer blows.
She screamed. Christa screamed like on a spit.
Sister Zita did not mind her screaming. She drove the carpenter's nail through Christa's hand, and as the tip of the nail struck the wood under her hand, she fetched it further and hammered the nail into the crossbar, blow by blow.

Christa screamed with all her might. She screamed in pain and fear. She was frightened. Cold horror had seized her. She felt dread. This was real. That was not a bad dream she would wake up from. Christa screamed.

Zita hit one last time. Christa felt the tremendous pain as her hand was pressed hard on the wood. The sister circled the cross and moved to the other side of Christa, where the next nail was already waiting to be hit through her left hand.

Christa was frightened. She begged and stammered on and on. She asked Sister Zita in tears not to do so. Everything, really everything she wanted to do, so that she was spared this kind of penance. Christa promised everything. She whined, she stammered, she begged and pleaded.
It did not help. Sister Zita did not stop.

She picked up the nail and set it on Christa's left hand. Again the girl felt with the tip of the nail searching for the right place between the palm of her hand.
Christa tried to pull her hand away, but the rope around her wrist held her hand iron-hard. There was no escape.
"No!" she screamed. "No!"

The hammer came down and drove the nail with a single punch through Christas hand. Christa roared. She reared up. She bowed her back. With firm blows, the nun drove the nail into the wood. Christa felt her hand pressed against the beam. A final blow and the hand was permanently attached to the wood.

Through a veil of tears she saw the nun walking to her feet. Zita picked up a nail and set the point on Christa's right foot, right in the middle of the foot. She raised the hammer and struck.
Christa reared up, howling. She heard the hamming of the hammer on the nail, a quiet tick-tick and she felt the iron driving through her flesh. She felt the nail tip hit her sensitive sole - from the inside!

A blow and the nail pierced from the inside through the sole of the foot. It came out from behind the balls of in the middle of the foot. Such insane pain ran through her that Christa was writhing on the cross and roared. She shook her head. She pulled with all her strength on the ropes that held her. She howled and screamed.

Below, in her foot, the faint tick-tick became a loud Tock-Tock, as sister Zita struck the carpenter's nail with firm blows into the wood of the foot rest.

A new pedestal, Christa thought incoherently. A brand new one! It is clear! She has to build a new pedestal each time she captures a new victim! Otherwise you would see the holes from the nails and the blood!

She felt the last nail put on her left foot. Zita struck. Christa screamed.
The iron nail drove through Christas foot, then pierced the wood beneath. Christa felt the vibrations of the hammer blow all over her body - but most of all in her nailed hands and feet. She gave a long cry. She passed away in fear. She was nailed! She was nailed to the cross! Sister Zita hit nailed her on the cross!

The last nail was in place. Sister Zita put away the hammer. She took a small, sharp kitchen knife and began to cut the ropes that had held Christa on the cross. They were no longer necessary. The nails were holding Christa now, the terrible nails!

Christa saw the nun smile. Nothing human was of that smile. It was not the smile that sister Zita had given her when she looked at Christa on the cross. It was not the smile she had given Christa when she stroked her bare feet at the coffee table. It was the smile of madness!

"I told you, you will not wear the ropes for long," said the nun. Still burning in her eyes this terrible fire. She held up the broken ropes: "You do not need them anymore!" She threw them carelessly aside.

Christa lay naked on the cross. She was sweating with fear, but at the same time she was cold with horror. She was scared like never before in life.
"Sister Zita, please do not!" she pleaded, knowing well that it was pointless. She could read it in her sister's eyes. Pure madness blazed in those eyes.

Christa tried to defend herself against her shackles, only that she no longer wore any kind of shackles. She was neither tied to the cross with ropes nor strapped to the cross with leather cuffs. She was nailed! Four long carpenter's nails held her on the cross. One could not be more firmly and definitively connected to the cross.

As Christa moved, she found that she could turn her nailed hands on the nails. Her feet also had a little freedom of movement in this regard. It was a joke - but a bad one.
She kept talking in panic to the nun. She pleaded. She begged. She humbled herself deeply. She felt no shame about it. She was too scared. She was scared to death.

It did not matter to the nun. She smiled her new cruel smile as she looked down at Christa.
"I'll crank you up now, girl," she said smiling, "so you can repent."
 
Sassi said:
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 38

Christa's eyes widened. A gasp flew over her lips. Her heart started to beat.
No! she thought. No! This can not be true! I have to be wrong! I did not look right! That just can not be true!

But Sister Zita floated on her bare feet through the chapel to the cross where Christa was helplessly tied, and the hammer and the nails were still in her hands. The nun wore a fine smile on her face. Without haste she came to Christa.

"Sister! Sister Zita!" Christa stammered. "What are you doing? Please, do not do that!"
The nun leaned over the girl on the cross: "The day has come, my child. Today you will truly repent. You will follow our Lord in full consequence and repent on the cross." Zita smiled: "I know you want it!"

Christa shook her head. She was freezing cold. She was sick with fear.
"No, sister Zita!" she called. "Not that! Do not do that! Let me go! Free me!"
"But not at all!" the nun said unctuously. "You will now experience what it is like to show true penitence. All the crucifixions with the leather cuffs were only preparation for that one day, my child."

She put the nails on the cross, one each beside Christa's hands and two at her feet. Christa panicked. "Sister Zita, listen! I do not want that! y penitence doesn´t go that far!"
"That doesn´t matter, little one," said the nun. "You know the cross. It will demand the necessary penitence as well as humility and devotion. That's why you're tied up. So you can not shy away at the last moment. The ropes should help you become one with the cross."

Christas panic increased. "No!" she screamed, pulling on the ropes that held her on the cross. "I do not want to do that! Sister Zita I want to repent! For all time! But in a way that leaves me alive! I do not wanna die!"
"We all have to die," said the nun sincerely. "So do you, my child. Your time has come. You will do the highest possible penance and go to our Lord. Amen!"

Christa started to cry. "Oh please, sister Zita! Please do not do this to me! I am still so young! I do not want to die!" She started to stammer. She explained to the nun that she wanted to stay with her to repent on the cross every day, for the sins of humanity, but please not die! She wanted to live to atone for the sins of the world.

Sister Zita picked up a nail - it was the one who was lying next to Christa's right hand.
"Thou shalt not atone for the sins of the world!" she said in a hard voice. A terrible fire burned in her eyes. "Thou shalt repent for your OWN sins!"
She set the nail on Christa's right hand exactly where she had described it to her some time ago: right between the balls of her hands.

Christa watched in horror as she felt the tip of the nail searching for the right spot. It was a big iron carpenter nail fifteen inches long and almost a centimeter thick. She could not believe what she saw. It was too unreal.
She felt like she was in a bad dream. At any moment, she expected to wake up in her bed. But this was not a bad dream, she knew that. She was scared like never before in her life.

"Sister Zita, do not do that! Please, if you nail me, you´ll kill me!"
"Death is part of life," said the nun. She smiled at Christa, with that terrible fire in her eyes, and Christa recognized the madness in those eyes that she had looked at so often when she was hanging naked on the cross. Sister Zita raised the hammer.
"No!" Christa screamed.
"Yes!" said the nun in a hard voice. Then she struck.

Nothing had prepared Christa for this pain. She not only heard the hammer blow, she felt it! She felt the nail penetrate deep into her hand, piercing her hand with several hammer blows.
She screamed. Christa screamed like on a spit.
Sister Zita did not mind her screaming. She drove the carpenter's nail through Christa's hand, and as the tip of the nail struck the wood under her hand, she fetched it further and hammered the nail into the crossbar, blow by blow.

Christa screamed with all her might. She screamed in pain and fear. She was frightened. Cold horror had seized her. She felt dread. This was real. That was not a bad dream she would wake up from. Christa screamed.

Zita hit one last time. Christa felt the tremendous pain as her hand was pressed hard on the wood. The sister circled the cross and moved to the other side of Christa, where the next nail was already waiting to be hit through her left hand.

Christa was frightened. She begged and stammered on and on. She asked Sister Zita in tears not to do so. Everything, really everything she wanted to do, so that she was spared this kind of penance. Christa promised everything. She whined, she stammered, she begged and pleaded.
It did not help. Sister Zita did not stop.

She picked up the nail and set it on Christa's left hand. Again the girl felt with the tip of the nail searching for the right place between the palm of her hand.
Christa tried to pull her hand away, but the rope around her wrist held her hand iron-hard. There was no escape.
"No!" she screamed. "No!"

The hammer came down and drove the nail with a single punch through Christas hand. Christa roared. She reared up. She bowed her back. With firm blows, the nun drove the nail into the wood. Christa felt her hand pressed against the beam. A final blow and the hand was permanently attached to the wood.

Through a veil of tears she saw the nun walking to her feet. Zita picked up a nail and set the point on Christa's right foot, right in the middle of the foot. She raised the hammer and struck.
Christa reared up, howling. She heard the hamming of the hammer on the nail, a quiet tick-tick and she felt the iron driving through her flesh. She felt the nail tip hit her sensitive sole - from the inside!

A blow and the nail pierced from the inside through the sole of the foot. It came out from behind the balls of in the middle of the foot. Such insane pain ran through her that Christa was writhing on the cross and roared. She shook her head. She pulled with all her strength on the ropes that held her. She howled and screamed.

Below, in her foot, the faint tick-tick became a loud Tock-Tock, as sister Zita struck the carpenter's nail with firm blows into the wood of the foot rest.

A new pedestal, Christa thought incoherently. A brand new one! It is clear! She has to build a new pedestal each time she captures a new victim! Otherwise you would see the holes from the nails and the blood!

She felt the last nail put on her left foot. Zita struck. Christa screamed.
The iron nail drove through Christas foot, then pierced the wood beneath. Christa felt the vibrations of the hammer blow all over her body - but most of all in her nailed hands and feet. She gave a long cry. She passed away in fear. She was nailed! She was nailed to the cross! Sister Zita hit nailed her on the cross!

The last nail was in place. Sister Zita put away the hammer. She took a small, sharp kitchen knife and began to cut the ropes that had held Christa on the cross. They were no longer necessary. The nails were holding Christa now, the terrible nails!

Christa saw the nun smile. Nothing human was of that smile. It was not the smile that sister Zita had given her when she looked at Christa on the cross. It was not the smile she had given Christa when she stroked her bare feet at the coffee table. It was the smile of madness!

"I told you, you will not wear the ropes for long," said the nun. Still burning in her eyes this terrible fire. She held up the broken ropes: "You do not need them anymore!" She threw them carelessly aside.

Christa lay naked on the cross. She was sweating with fear, but at the same time she was cold with horror. She was scared like never before in life.
"Sister Zita, please do not!" she pleaded, knowing well that it was pointless. She could read it in her sister's eyes. Pure madness blazed in those eyes.

Christa tried to defend herself against her shackles, only that she no longer wore any kind of shackles. She was neither tied to the cross with ropes nor strapped to the cross with leather cuffs. She was nailed! Four long carpenter's nails held her on the cross. One could not be more firmly and definitively connected to the cross.

As Christa moved, she found that she could turn her nailed hands on the nails. Her feet also had a little freedom of movement in this regard. It was a joke - but a bad one.
She kept talking in panic to the nun. She pleaded. She begged. She humbled herself deeply. She felt no shame about it. She was too scared. She was scared to death.

It did not matter to the nun. She smiled her new cruel smile as she looked down at Christa.
"I'll crank you up now, girl," she said smiling, "so you can repent."
Click to expand...
Things went wrong, Christa! You better should have listened to your warning inner voice! Now it is too late and final!
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 39

Christa lay trembling on the cross. Her hands and feet ached terribly, but she knew that was no comparison to what she was about to feel. She heard the familiar screeching as the nurse began to crank up the cross. Christa felt the cross rise. She got up with him.
She begged and pleaded non-stop. She could not help it. She implored Sister Zita not to do that to her.

The nun gave nothing to Christ's supplications. She cranked up the cross. Slowly it straightened up and took Christa, who was nailed to it, with it.
As more weight hung on her nailed hands, the pain rose immensely.
Then the cross stood upright. It struck gently against the stopper. This striking made Christa's body tug on the nails. She screamed as if on a spit.

Then she gasped, panting. The pain was so strong that it almost took her breath away. She gasped like a fish in the dry. Fiery lances of pain flooded through her hands and feet. Christa started screaming. She could not help but scream. She screamed as if on a spit. She howled like an animal.

"No! No!" Christa howled. "I can not bear that! I can not stand it! Not a minute longer! set me free! I can not stand it a single minute longer! Take me off!" Although this aggravated the pain, she squirmed with all her strength on the cross. She could not prevent it. She had no control over her body.
She writhed on the nails, screaming. The pain was so great that she lost control and emptied her bladder. It was bubbling wildly out of her lap as she danced on the cross. Christa screamed.

"Stop!" she yelled. "Stop, sister! Crank down the cross! For God's sake, I can not stand that! Let me down!" She writhed at the cross, screaming.
Sister Zita put the safety lever over. Then she stepped in front of the cross. She looked up at Christa with shining eyes.
"Now you are doing true penance, girl," she said unctuously. "Now you follow our Lord Jesus Christ."

"No!" Christa screamed. "I can not! Take me off, sister! Set me free!" She was terrified and afraid. She was shaking. Her body twisted against her will in the futile attempt to avoid the horrible pain. But that only added to the agony.
Below stood Sister Zita, watching her with interest as she writhed in ecstasies of pain on the cross.

Christa screamed. She cried without ceasing. She pleaded. She begged for her life. She humbled herself deeply.
"Please sister Zita," she whimpered, "please let me be crucified. Yes, let me repent, but please-please drop me off after a few hours, yes? I want to atone, but when my time comes, release me, okay? You don´t need to be scared. I do not reveal anything. I will not say a word. You just have to drop me off on the old pilgrimage and call an ambulance anonymously."

The hover ambulance would take Christa by the quickest route to the nearest clinic, where she would be placed in an automated robotic doc unit that would cure her in a day or two. Probably no physical damage would be left behind.

"Please sister, tell me you'll release me in a few hours!" Christa begged. She was not ashamed of her miserable whining. She was much too scared and too much in pain. She felt like a victim under the heaviest torture. She wanted to say everything that Sister Zita wanted to hear.
"Please tell me that you will release me, sister!" Christa pleaded again.

"But girl!" Sister Zita spoke as if she spoke mildly to an unreasonable child. "You wanted it yourself."
"Not to die!" Christa shouted. She squirmed at the cross. Streams of sweat ran down her nude tortured body.

The nun smiled her ghastly smile, that fake smile that looked even more awful with the terrible glow in her eyes: "But girl, that's part of it, if you do it right! You wanted to atone. I asked you: are you ready to take on any pain on the cross? And you answered: Yes, sister. Proceed with me at will. I submit."

The nun looked at Christa sternly. "Do not say, that would not be true! You yourself have repeatedly told me that I can do whatever I want with you. You said you would take the heaviest penance."
She opened her arms: "And now see! I gave you this opportunity! Now you can do true penance! You should rejoice, instead of howling loudly, I should let you down."

Zita shook her head. "No, no, girl! That's out of the question! You stay nailed and repent! You asked for it!"
"But do not die!" Christa howled. She writhed in pain convulsions. She could not keep still for a moment. Her body danced in ecstasies of pain on the cross. "Please, dear dear sister Zita! I want to repent, but please-please do not let me die!"

"You stay on the cross until your penitence is over!" Zita shouted. "Until you go to our Lord, girl! That's why you were nailed. Get used to it! Do not be so upset! Endure it with dignity! Gratefully accept the pain and show yourself worthy! You have to endure it either way."

She stepped back, careful not to step into the puddle Christa had made in her plight. Then she knelt down and began to pray. After a while, her hands disappeared under her robe.
"My sweet little penitential girl," she said. "How beautiful you look in your torment. You were already a beautiful sight before, but how much lovelier makes you the real and true pain of a true crucifixion. Nothing is more beautiful than a nailed girl like you! How cute your little petite princess feet look with nails! So cute!"

Christa saw the barely perceptible movement under her sister's robe. She realized that Zita grabbed between her thighs and stimulated herself. Sister Zita masturbated at the sight of the girl nailed to the cross. She was aroused by the sight.

She wanted that! thought Christa. From the beginning! She wanted to nail me to the cross!She felt nothing but pain, fear and infinite remorse.
Why had she come to this monastery? Why had not she hiked to Rheinbeuern? There was also a beautiful church where she could pray barefoot.
Instead, she was trapped in the monastery of Obermurscheid by a psychopath.

"You girls are so beautiful when you realize what is happening to you," said the nun. "So beautiful in your pure, pure pain! Isn´t it a pleasure to follow the Lord? Isn´t it the most beautiful thing on earth that you can imagine?
I, sister Zita, make this a gift. I will lead you to true penance!"

Christa saw the terrible fire blazing in the nun's eyes and she knew that Zita was crazy. She had fallen into the trap of a psychopathic monster. Christa understood that she would not leave the cross alive this time. She was scared to death. Although she knew it was useless, she continued to plead for mercy on the monster, kneeling down in front of the cross and masturbating at the sight of a nailed girl. She could not help it.

At some point, sister Zita got up. She turned and left the chapel. Christa was alone with pain, regret and dread. Never had she regretted something so much.
Why did I come here? she asked herself over and over again. Why didn´t I go somewhere else?

And most importantly, why did not she run away when she realized that sister Zita obviously had very odd likes? She had the feeling from the beginning that the nun was not right inside her head!

When she struck my hands unjustifiably for the first time, I should have noticed that she is not normal! It's not normal for a nun to do that! I should not have come back the next day!

But Christa had gone to the monastery again. Because she had that predisposition. She was a masochist and she loved having to submit. Zita had quickly recognized and tested how far she could go with her. That's how she lured Christa into the trap.

Christa did not move so wild anymore. She was hanging relatively still. Only sometimes did she rear up. She made a permanent whimper, a whimper that occasionally increased to loud screaming as the pain became unbearable. Actually, it was always unbearable.

Christa turned her head. She looked at her right hand, the hand that had first been nailed to the cross. Around the nail head, a ring of dark blood had formed. A gossamer trickle of bright red blood ran down her arm and flowed down her ribs to her hips.
Christa looked down. She saw the huge nails in her small, white feet. There, too, was dark blood around the heads of the nails, and two thin rivulets of lighter blood ran to her toes. A little blood dripped off the toes.
Down in front of the cross was a tiny puddle of blood no bigger than a palm.

The nails clog the wounds and block the blood flow. She had read that. A crucified man did not die from blood loss. Although it blew at the beginning, when the nails were hit, but then the blood soon stopped.

It would take a long time, Christa knew that. She had read about that, too. There were eyewitness accounts from the time of the ancient Romans, which said that a crucified person could survive on the cross for several days if she was given enough to drink. It could take three or even four days for death to release the poor victim. As Christa remembered, she began to cry aloud.
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 40

Christa hung trembling on the nails. Frenzied pains raged in her nailed hands, coming from the tremendous pull on her arms. She tried to lessen the tension by kicking her feet on the pedestal and pushing herself up with her legs.
That gave her unbearable pain in her feet as well. Especially the places where the nails had pierced the sensitive soles of the feet hurt terribly. And it didn´t soften the hard pull on the arms not really.

Christa was so fixed on the cross that her body was stretched and she could do almost nothing against it. She could not keep still. She had stopped screaming loudly, she was too pumped out to roar, but she whined incessantly. She gave a steady, low howl and whine. She did not manage to suppress that. She was in such pain that she had to moan. Such pain could not be taken proudly and silently without making a sound.

Christa could not say what was worse: the horrible pain or the fear of death. She was sick with fear. She feared - in the truest sense of the word - to death. That's why she cried without ceasing. She was terrified.

At first she did not realize that sister Zita had come back. The nun stood at the door of the chapel and looked at Christa with interest. When she realized that Christa had become aware of her, she floated forward to the cross. She put the stepladder in front of the cross, climbed up and gave Christa water to drink.

Christa drank. She was thirsty. She was sweating badly.
"Thanks," she said afterwards. "Thank you, sister Zita." She could not help it. She had to be good and nice. She had to! Because she hoped, contrary to expectations, still to be released. If the sister wanted to tell her that she would be saved after a few hours! Oh, what a relief that would be! Not having to die! The fear of death would go away!

I'll endure the pain, Christa thought. If only I know that I do not have to die!
Zita got a sponge and washed her sweaty face with it. Then she came up to Christa and stroked her cheek. She kissed Christa's mouth, gently at first, then her tongue searched her way.
Christa let her do it. She did not dare to resist. She did not dare. She was too scared. She wanted to be obedient. She hoped to temper the nun, though she knew that Zita would grant her no mercy.

Zita was crazy. You could see that. Christa saw the terrible fire blazing in the nun's eyes. Nevertheless, she made love to Zita. The cross forced her to do so. She could not help but humble herself altogether, in the miserable little hope of getting away with it.

Zita kissed her extensively. Then she smiled at Christa. "Nothing tastes as sweet as the kisses of a crucified girl," she said. "You are so beautiful in your pain! How sweet you are!" She began to breathe harder. "I want you to be sweet to me!" She stepped off the stepladder and took off her robe.

Naked, she stood in front of the cross. This time, she was not paying any attention to be standing in the puddle Christa had made. She pushed aside the stepladder and pulled something out of a dark corner, a frame painters use to paint house walls. It went up several steps to a wooden platform. On one side there was a railing. There were small rolls down below. This thing had never been in the chapel before. Christa remembered seeing it in the boardinghouse.

Zita rolled the rack in front of the cross. She climbed up and stood naked in front of Christa's face. She reached down and grabbed Christa's thick hair.
"Show me that you are humbly, pilgrim girl!" she commanded in a commanding voice. "Show your obedience! Be sweet to me!" She stretched her pelvis so that her cunt floated right in front of Christa's face.

Christa obeyed. She could not help it. The fear forced her to do so. She began to satisfy Sister Zita with her mouth. She licked and kissed the nun between her thighs.
"Yes! Oooh, yeah!", the sister gasped and stretched out her genitals to Christa. "Yes, penitent girl! Yes! Please me! Be sweet to me! Yes!"

Christa licked eagerly. She could not help but obey Zita unconditionally. She was not ashamed to humble herself like that. She hoped heartbroken that her obedience might perhaps bring her pity on the part of the sister. So she aroused the nun according to all the rules of art. She made sister Zita whimper and gasp.

"Yeah!", whimpered Zita. "Ooh penitent girl! Go on! Work diligently for my satisfaction! Obey, nail girl! Serve your mistress, you sweet thing dancing on nails! Oooh!"
The nun gasped and whimpered. Her screams became louder and louder. She did not put up any restraint. She yodelled with lust.

Christa hung trembling in pain on the nails and licked the nun who pressed her cunt in her face. She worked eagerly like a child who wants to please his parents. She wanted to please Sister Zita so that she would free her from her torments. She could not help but to please the sister.

"Penitent girl! Cross girl! Lick me! Lick hard!", Zita stammered in high arousal. She squirmed with lust. "Yes! Yeah!" she stammered. She whimpered with delight. "Serve obedience, nail girl! Serve! Submit, nailed girl! Yes! Yes!"

Sister Zita came with an animalish outcry. She pulled so hard on Christa's hair that her head was pulled back and forth. Christa screamed in pain as Zita screamed in delight. The nun came violently. She tipped backwards and would have fallen off the rack if the railing had not held her. "Ooooh!" she groaned. "You sweet obedient nail girl!"

It took a while for Zita to come back. Then she moved the scaffolding aside and picked up the small stepladder. She came up to Christa, who was trembling with pain on her nails.
"What are you a cute crucifix!", The nun kissed crying Christa on the mouth. "That sweet little strawberry mouth!" she said, still a little caught in the ecstasy of the fading orgasm. "Ooh, that sweet girl's mouth!" She kissed Christa heartily.

"Sister Zita," Christa said in a shaky voice. "Please, sister Zita, can we do it the way you said? That I follow our Lord Jesus?" Her voice took on a pleading undertone. "Our Lord was nailed to the cross for six hours. Could we keep it that way, Sister Zita? Six hours in the humble following of our Lord Jesus Christ?"

Christa waited for the sister's answer. For a moment, it almost looked as if Zita was seriously considering the proposal. She smiled at Christa.
"Like Jesus Christ," said Christa, as humbly as possible. "Like our Lord. Six hours on the cross."
As Zita's smile widened, she gained hope. Maybe she came out of this thing alive.

"Sister Zita?" said Christa. She tried not to squirm on the cross, though she was half insane in pain. "Six hours? Okay? Like our Lord Jesus Christ?"
Sister Zita still smiled benignly when she said No.

"Why not?" Christa asked desperately.
"Because you are a bad girl!" said the nun in a hard voice. "Because you are unchaste! That's why! You have to pay for your actions!" The nun reached between Christa's legs. "Wet! You are soaking wet down there! Even now! You wind with lust on the cross! Because you like it! Then enjoy it instead of complaining!"

"No, sister Zita!" Christa said desperately. "That's not arousal. It's because of the pain I have to endure! If a girl is in great pain, she will get wet."

"Dumbspeak!", called sister Zita. She began to fuck Christa with the hand. "You're wet because you're horny, you bad girl!" She gripped with her hand as she always did.
Christa was stunned. She could not believe it, but she actually felt a rush of arousal. Although it caused extra pain, she opened her thighs a bit to give Zita better access down there.

She cried in pain and yet her pelvis began to dance on Sister Zita's hand. Christa gasped. The nun grabbed harder and forced her to orgasm. It came fast and swept over Christa's tortured body like a tornado.

"See!" the nun called. Her eyes blazed with anger. "Do you see how you wind with lust? You roll like a cat on the cross! You bad girl! You are full of uncean feelings and thoughts! You have just come! At the cross! This is absolutely unchaste! You are a bad girl!"

"You are all bad girls!", Zita shouted that it was echoing in the chapel. "You are bad and spoiled to the core! You have to redeem yourself from your unchastity! I took a vow before Mother Mary to redeem one hundred of you before I also want to make the ultimate penance. The girl number 101 shall nail me to the cross. Then, nailed like our Lord Jesus Christ, I want to do true repentance and die on the cross for my sins.

But first I bring to one hundred of you girls salvation! One hundred of you I will lead to the path of true repentance. Thirty-one have already gone that way and you follow them, girl! I tell you! You follow them!"

Zita got off the stepladder. She set it aside and looked up at Christa, who was trembling on the cross: "I'm going now. I'm busy. I have to dig your grave!"
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 41

Christa was left alone. She cried like a little child who lost her mother. Now she knew she had no chance to survive. Sister Zita was crazy. The woman was a psychopath!
One hundred! thought Christa. She wants to kill a hundred girls!

In her mind's eye, she saw the nun lurking for years to come, like a fat spider in her web. Now she knew why the convent looked so degenerate: Sister Zita had been here alone for years, failing to keep everything clean. Probably also because she spent much of the day lurking at the window on the first floor in the office and watching the old pilgrimage with binoculars.

Whenever she saw a promising victim along the way, she hurried down and opened the gates in the monastery wall. She set a trap for the girl who used the old pilgrimage path, into which she fumbled innocently.
Those who are lurking most of the day could not take care of the monastery. That's why everything was so neglected.

The graves! she thought. The thirty-one graves! So I understood her correctly when she mumbled that it was now thirty-one. She opened the old graves and buried the victims there!

Christa squirmed. The pain increased with every minute she hung on the cross. She had started whimpering again and again. She howled like a dog.
One hundred! she thought. She swore to kill a hundred girls on the cross! Thirty-one have already fallen victim to her!

The four boarding school girls were the first! These girls did not run away. They had died here in the chapel on the same cross where Christa writhed in agony. Zita had selected these girls from the schoolgirl crowd. She had made them advances, and if a girl agreed, she had started her cruel game with her just as she had with Christa.

A schoolgirl had dreamed of being tied up. She had arousing feelings when beaten and suppressed. She had felt arousal when humiliated and mistreated. She had enjoyed being strapped to a cross. With soft leather cuffs.

And at some point this girl had found herself nailed to the cross! Nailed with huge iron carpenter's nails! Didn´t anyone hear her screams? Zita had said that the chapel was as good as soundproof. Nobody could hear a girl scream. That's what she said when she flogged Christa. That may be true of people standing outside the walls of the monastery, but within the walls?

Maybe she gagged those girls, Christa thought. She felt icy horror. She was sick with fear. She gagged her so nobody could hear her screams. And because she was the only one who had the keys to the Zita chapel, nobody else looked there when the girls disappeared.

She could imagine how it had ended. The sisters searched for the missing girls in the whole monastery area. Zita acted like to look in the chapel. Then she came out and locked the door in the wall behind which lay the chapel.
"There is nobody in the chapel or in the next room," she announced. "I looked everywhere."

Therefore, everybody searched the girls outside the monastery, while in truth they were hanging helplessly in the Zita chapel on the cross and died a horrible death.
As soon as a victim was dead, sister Zita had opened one of the very old graves at night and secretly buried the body there. She took care of these graves. Nothing was noticeable. Fresh earth on it and plant new flowers. Nobody noticed that.
Dogs could have tracked the dead bodies, but because everyone thought the girls had run away, they did not search on the monastery grounds with dogs.

Four girls had disappeared during a school year, murdered by a psychopathic monster in nun's habit. Had the boarding school not been closed, there would have been more victims among the schoolgirls.

So, however, Sister Zita, the cruel killer, had lost her potential victims. The boarding school closed and she had no girls left to kill.

Chance came to her aid. When the nuns left the monastery, Sister Zita stayed there. She had probably suggested this to her superior herself. From then on, nothing stood in the way. She prepared her trap and waited for victims.

Thirty-one! thought Christa. Thirty-one girls in nine years. Four schoolgirls in the last year of school, which took place at the boarding school, and twenty-seven girls, who ran into their own ruin on the old pilgrim's path. Twenty-seven girls in eight years! There are a total of thirty-two girls with me who died on the cross!

Thirty-two! Sister Zita had demanded of Christa just as many blows, administered with the leather strap between the legs. Thirty-two! And she wanted to nail another sixty-eight girls on the cross in order to keep her vow taken in the madness! She wanted to continue killing until one hundred girls were dead.

And then? Would she really get herself nailed to the cross and die in the end, as a penance for her misdeeds? Zita was a psychopath. She could easily construct a threadbare reason why she could continue to murder innocent girls. Psychopaths could do something like that. They lived in their own world with their own perverted laws.

Did not Zita say that the Mother Superior sent her a letter every year suggesting that the old cloister of Obermurscheid could be repaired? It would probably never happen. There was no money for it. And so the insane nun would continue to lure innocent victims into her perfidious trap. The monster would continue to kill for all eternity until it died or it was accidentally tracked down.

One thing was for sure: there was no chance for Christa to get away alive. She would die on this cross. She would wind herself on the wood hour after hour. She would scream and cry. She would beg the monster for mercy until the last moment, knowing that there would be no mercy for her.
And then she would die, after hours or days.

Three days, Christa thought. It can take up to three days!
She reared herself up with a cry. Then she squirmed at the cross, howling like an animal.
She felt pain explosions in her pierced hands and pain lances in her nailed feet. She gasped and screamed. She squirmed. She shrieked with pain and horror.
She could not stop screaming.
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 42

She's crazy! Thought Christa. This woman is absolutely crazy! And I'm helpless at the mercy! Nobody will miss me. I have unsubscribed at the Pension Waldmüller. Nobody will ask questions. It may take weeks before I'm missed!

Christa collapsed on the cross. She whimpered without pause. The impossible pain filled her completely. There was no escape, no matter how she moved. Also, keeping still did not help. It always hurt. She writhed in a universe of anguish.

The hours dragged on. Every second felt like an eternity to Christa. The pain drove her insane. She whimpered and sobbed. She howled and screamed. She trembled uncontrollably. She squirmed at the cross.
Each time Sister Zita came to give her water, she implored the nun for mercy. She could not help it. She begged for her life, although she knew that Zita did not want her to be pleaded.

"Please let me down, sister!" Christa pleaded in tears. "It hurts so bad! I can not stand it anymore! Not really! Please-please let me down!"
"I do not think so!", Zita said. Her eyes blazed with anger. "Did you let ME down when I begged you, you little bitch? No!"
"But you ordered me not to release you!" Christa cried desperately.
"I ordered you to let me down!" the nun screamed. "But you did not show any sympathy!" Christa did not know what to say. No matter what she said, the nurse turned every word in her mouth.

"You girls are so little grateful that I allow you to do true repentance!" shouted Zita. "Instead of being worthy, you yell and howl and complain! Where is your humility now, Christa Weber? Tell me! How miserable you little bitches are! Did Jesus complain? No! He accepted his destiny in humility and devotion!"

The sister stood in front of the cross and stared at Christa angrily. "Your sluts with your piercings without anesthesia! You just did that to make yourself horny! Because that's how you are! You are horny and lustful! You are unchaste and spoiled to the core! You filthy girls!
You have seduced me to sin! Looked at me with your big eyes! You have tendered to me! Full of lust you have begged for sinful things! You've been writhing full of lasciviousness on the cross! Shamelessly, you showed your naked body and made me do sinful things!"

Zita paced up and down in front of the cross. She waved her hands. "Look at you, you rotten bastard! Even now, where you are nailed, you writhe voluptuously on the cross to arouse me with your indecent naked body! You are all the same! You can not get enough of sin and corruption! You are little whores! You are indecent sluts!

Your pussy is constantly mewing. Hardly ever since you moved naked, you become slick and swollen between your legs. Then you present your naked body in rutting contortions to seduce me into sin! You are shameless!

You are all the same, Christa! You are just like the others! I have to protect you from yourself! I have to save you! I have to force yourself to repent!"

The nun pointed at Christa: "Now you're doing true penance, girl! Now you are paying for your sinful behavior!"
Suddenly, all anger escaped Sister Zita's face. An almost supernatural smile played on her lips. She looked at Christa with bright eyes: "And how beautiful you girls are when I force you to do real and true repentance! How good your nails suit you! How sweet you are in your pure, real pain!"

The nun came closer. "So sweet! How wonderful it is to look at your sweaty naked body, penitent girl! These little hands with the blinking nails in it! And those little, delicate princess feet, adorned with nails! They look so cute!" She bowed her head and kissed Christa's toes.When she raised her head, she had blood on her lips. It looked like smeared lipstick.

"I can not let you down, Christa!" Zita spoke in a soft voice. Her eyes took on a dreamy expression. "I would not do you a favor. Because you love it! In truth, you have always longed for it! You MUST atone! Because you are a totally sinful girl! Only the penance on the cross can save you! I allow you this all-encompassing repentance! You should be grateful to me instead of howling and moaning! You disappoint me, Christa! For real!"

The nun turned and walked to the door.
"Please do not let me die!" Christa called after her. "Please do not, sister Zita! Please release me!"
Zita turned at the door. "No!", she spoke in a hard voice. "You remain crucified! You have to suffer for your sins! You are full of sin! And you are to pay for these sins!"
Without another word she left.

Christa collapsed crying. She squirmed, sobbing loudly on the cross. The pain had become so terrible that she began to wish for death. She would not leave the cross alive anyway. She knew that. She would only suffer senselessly. The pain was unbearable.

She turned her head and looked at the statue of Mother Mary.
"Mother Mary," she said in a fragile voice. "Is it true? Is Zita right? Do I suffer on the cross because I'm sinful? Did I sin? What have I done? I can not help it, that I have these dreams! I loved being tied up and I've always dreamed of being crucified. Not nailed! I did not want to die in terrible agony! I just wanted to be tied up? And I love submitting. Am I bad because it upsets me when I'm hurt a little? Am I a sinner?"

Then Christa heard a gentle voice: "Have you ever harmed anyone for your erotic dreams, my child?" Our Lady smiled kindly. "No. You have not hurt or treated anyone badly. You can not do anything for your disposition. It is important that you did not hurt anyone. You did not hurt anyone. So you did not sin.
But that one who did this to you, that one who is tempted to cruelly kill young girls, is a sinner and she will find her just punishment."

Christa hung very still on the cross. Despite all the pain she was very calm.
"Mother Mary," she said. "Is it sinful if I ask you for salvation from the agony? I really can not stand it anymore! I have been nailed since this morning and it is now afternoon. How long will the torture last? Until tomorrow? Or even longer?"
Tears ran down her cheeks. "I do not want to suffer anymore! Can you please redeem me, Mary? I know, one should not bring about one's own death. That's a sin. But I can not do it anymore!"

"Then call for help," said Mary in her soft voice. "See, the window is open. Nobody was out in the woods this morning. But now we have afternoon. Call for help, Christa! Just for help! For how did the Lord speak? Ask and it will be given to you."

Christa looked to the other side of the chapel. She saw the broken window. The nun had not noticed that part of the leaded glass had broken out. In the window, a hole was as big as the diameter of a cleaning bucket.

No one heard me scream this morning, Christa thought. There was nobody in the forest. But now maybe! She reared up on the cross. She took a deep breath. Then she began to scream with all her might.
"Help! Help! I am murdered! Save me! Call the police! I am trapped in the Zita chapel and should perish here! Help! Help!" Again and again she screamed the words as loud as she could.

After a while, sister Zita came to the chapel. She stood in front of the cross and looked at Christa with a grin.
"Oh, what what are you blithely!" she sneered. She imitated the movements of Christa's body twisting in ecstasies of pain on the cross. She mimicked Christa's cries for help: "Heeelp! To Help-Help-Help! Heeeeelp meeeee!Heeelp moooo! Heeeeelp meooow!"
So she scoffed. She danced around in a circle in front of the cross like Rumpelstiltskin and shouted for help. In between she turned to giggles. "Help-Help-Kelp-Melp-Help!"
She cackled and hopped around in a circle. "Help, oh help tralalaaa!"

Suddenly she froze. Her eyes widened. Christa saw how icy terror came into those eyes, in which madness had previously worn off. Sister Zita turned her head from right to left. She listened. Then she turned and ran away as if pursued by a thousand devils.

Christa continued to call for help. She screamed with all her strength. She did not give up.

Then suddenly there were people in the chapel. She recognized uniforms. Police. She looked in disbelieving eyes. "Help me! Please help me!" she pleaded. "The sister wants to kill me!" As if in a dream, Christa felt the cross drop down. Oh, wonderful moment, when the pain subsided! Then people in white clothes were around her.
"Robo-doc!", She heard from afar. "Injection! Damn, where is the medical hovercar?! Don´t care! Send a Robo-Helicopter!"

Then it was dark around Christa. She did not hear anything anymore.
 
The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 43

When Christa woke up, she lay in an automatic robo-doc unit. A nurse told her that Robo-Doc had done a great job and that she was completely recovered. As usual, however, she would have to spend two more days recovering and observing, undergoing three body scans a day, trying to determine if the repaired body cells did not cause cell proliferation. This happened very rarely, but had to be monitored. After forty-eight hours of no finding, one patient was healed.

Christa moved into a small single room and lay in a freshly made bed. There she was visited by two police officers. Zita was dead, they told her. She had fled to the church and had jumped down from the church tower.

Meanwhile, Christa had made a story for herself because she did not want to tell that she had lived with sister Zita for some days. She claimed to have been on a hike on the old pilgrim road. Sister Zita invited her to the monastery and had let her visit the old monastery church. Then she invited Christa for coffee and cake. Christa had drunk the coffee and she was blacked out.

When she awoke, she found herself lying naked on a cross, handcuffed to the beams on her hands and feet.
"Then she nailed me," Christa reported. "She talked a lot of crazy stuff about unchaste and sinful young girls, to whom she must bring salvation by repentance on the cross."
She told everything that sister Zita had said, even about the graves and that she wanted to murder one hundred girls, before she intended to judge herself.

The police knew the graves. Thirty-one bodies had been found.
"You should be number thirty-two," one of the officers said. "She already threw your backpack into the grave. The sister lived alone in the monastery of Obermurscheid and lured young girls to ruin if she found a chance. The bodies were exhumed and the computer-controlled cell scanners could identify them all. It were missing persons from eight years and four young schoolgirls who visited the monastery's boarding school nine years ago.
The nun opened old graves and buried the bodies there. You almost all shared the same fate, Christa! A hiker on the old pilgrim's path heard your screams and alarmed the police."

Christa looked up at the officers: "Will ... have you said anything to the press?"
"Only the dates of the dead girls and this insane person in nun's habit. We were able to keep your name out. You will not be bothered when you leave the clinic the day after tomorrow." Christa was relieved. That sounded really good.

The police officers left and left her alone. She would like to come over in two days on the spot and sign her statement and authenticate by Iris scan, then she could go her way.
"Go my way," murmured Christa, when she was alone in the room. "Can I ever do that again? After experiencing THAT?" She felt anxious and small as a mouse. "Can I ever again trust a person unconditionally after Zita has abused this trust in the most abominable?"

She had to think of her cousin Melanie. Melanie was in an association where people rode on real horses. They did not ride on robot horses in the sports arenas but on tamed animals out in the open air! It happened occasionally that a rider crashed, because animals could not intercept such a fall like computer-controlled robotic horses.

"If you fall down, there is an iron rule," Melanie had said. "IMMEDIATELY back on the horse! Otherwise the fear eats you up and it is over with the cavalry! "

„Back on horseback," murmured Christa. "Can I do that?" She fetched her small handheld computer, which was lying on the nightstand next to the hospital bed, and typed in something. The computer spit out the address. Christa smiled. "I still have more than two weeks vacation," she said. More than enough time for a nice ride. "



Epilogue:
Simone Riefer stowed the cleaning supplies. She was done with window cleaning. She decided to read a book. She did not need to prepare lessons. She was an old hand in the business and had been a home economics teacher so long that she was no stranger to the new school she was teaching.

It rang at the front door. "Who is that!" Simone did not expect anyone and the parcel courier should have been there two hours ago. Who likes to be on the doorstep? Simone went to the door and opened. Outside stood a small, petite girl of eighteen with black hair.

"Hello, Mrs. Riefer," the girl said nicely. "May I come in?"
Simone recognized the little girl immediately. It was Christa Weber, a graduating girl at her previous school. She felt her pulse rise. Oh yes, she knew this girl!

She invited Christa with a gesture to enter and closed the front door behind her. She saw that the girl was carrying a small backpack. At the top, a rope stuck out from under the clasp. Simone was surprised. Had Christa gone under the climbers?

Then she looked down and saw that the girl was wearing no shoes. Christa was barefoot. Christa stood and looked up at Simone. "Mrs. Riefer?" She asked softly.
"Yes, Christa?"
The little girl dropped to her knees in one graceful motion. She looked up at her with wide eyes that Simone felt her heartbeat rise: "Mrs. Riefer, I trust you. I trust you with all my heart."


THE END
 
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