Female Domination — April 24, 2012 3:57 pm

Fixing Wicked Men

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Here is a story I wrote for a lifestyle domme in England called Mistress Paris French. She asked me to write her a hot story about cruel nuns doing bad things to evil men. This is what I came up with

Sister Angel was no angel. She was in fact the very devil; a fiend in a habit. She thought of herself as a dark angel – doing God’s work in the convent up there high on the mountaintop. “His work can be done in many ways and does he not talk of punishing the wrongdoer?” This would be Sister Angel’s usual lesson to her novice sister, Dominique. Sister Angel’s job in the convent was to train the initiates in the rights of the order; The Holy Order of Punishment.

It was founded in the middle ages when goodness was rewarded in heaven and sin punished here on earth. Punishment of wrongdoers was the work of the righteous – or so thought the order. So though Sister Angel and there were few people has good as her in the art of punishing the wicked.

“How do we reach the wicked so that they can be punished? Asked the naïve Dominique. She was a mere 17 year-old farm girl: broad thighs, strong arms and cold blue eyes. Sister Angel thought she would make a very successful nun – especially in their order, which revered the whip, the rack and the nipple screws, as much as any religious emblem. Dominique’s question was a good one – how to reach the wicked? How to bring them back into the church and back into the convent so that their expiation of sin could begin at the skilful hands of Sister

Angel and her novices.

“We lure them here – they are men and it is not difficult”, said Angel with a laugh. “But how to lure them to a convent? The wicked do not seek repentance usually?” said Dominique Angel smiled – a cool, tight-lipped smile. “We use traditional methods to lure the wicked. and there is nothing more effective than the lure of a woman.” Dominique adjusted her habit and pursed a dry lip: “The lure of a woman?”

“Yes that is your role as a novitiate. You are to dress as what the world calls a slut. Short skirt, stockings, boots and low-cut blouse. You have good breasts and a very seductive smile. We shall equip you with all you need to go into the town and lure a man here.” Dominique found this hard to believe. Had she left her farm to join a convent only to be dressed as a whore – a lure to wicked men? Yes. That is exactly what she had to do. And she was going to be very good at it.

Within a week, she would lure two of the wickedest men in town; they would be snared into the convent, locked in the cells and given a punishing regime by Sister Angel. They would repent or die – in fact they would do both.

Sister Dominique had joined the convent to devote herself to God not to dress up as a whore and lure men, however wicked, into the realm of pain and chastisement. She could see though that the convent’s mission was to bring evildoers back along the righteous path. If that path sometimes went some strange and crooked ways, then so be it. Sister Angel, the chief tormentress of the wicked ones, had brought Dominique’s clothes for her first foray back into the world of sin.

As she put on the boots, adjusted the stockings around her strong thighs, painted on the bright red lipstick, adjusted her leather low-cut top to show a more than ample cleavage, she thought, ‘Yes sister, you are a sexy whore – men will not resist your charms.’ She felt like the spider in the web as she set out for the nearby town.

Her mission was to meet a certain David Webber. According to Sister Angel, who knew a lot about sinners, Webber was an A1 bastard, an associate of hell. He ran a local charity apparently raising money for sick children. In fact, it was a scam – he pocketed any funds raised by hard-working local people, and plonked it in his own bank account.

Sister Angel has a good network of informers and spies. They knew what Webber was up to, where he put the ill-gotten loot and even which bank was holding on to the stolen money which should have gone to alleviating the misery of very ill children not lining the pockets of this arrogant smooth-talking bastard. What they didn’t know was his bank account details and pin numbers. That was Sister Angel’s job.

She would punish the slimy evil shit until he cried out for forgiveness, until every child he had robbed could hear his screams. Then she would get his pin number and bank account. She would withdraw the money and put it in its rightful place.

The first part of the plan went well. Sister Dominique dressed as a beguiling temptress had made an appointment to see Webber in his office. She was going to ‘offer her services’ as a fundraiser an wanted David to show her the ropes. Webber was a handsome public school type – in looks rather like a Hugh Grant, same age, same floppy hair, doe eyes and charming but affected shy mannerism. He had that butter-wouldn’t-melt innocent look and a rather athletic body that Sister Angel thought ideal for beating and scourging. She imagined he had a smooth tanned body, quite slim, hairless and toned.

That required some special tortures including hot irons and nail

removers. She had read a lot about medieval inquisitors and wanted to try out a new technique for her – a thousand pins. This was apparently a very painful torture involving placing small pins just under the skin in hundreds of places.

The beauty was that each pin in itself was little more than a, well, a pinprick. But added up, they did something to the nervous system which put the whole lot on red alert. Placed in the correct way, every movement of the body, even involuntary ones, could lead to unbearably painful electric shock-like impulses. It was impossible to keep still enough not to feel the pains. Sister Angel planned to keep Webber like a pin board for up to 24 hours. And that was just the start.

This was the fate waiting for David Webber if he succumbed to the lure of Sister Dominique. As a womanizer and a man whose brain was in the stem of his penis, he would not, could not, resist.

As Dominique knocked on his office door, she knew that his torments were just a few hours away. She was right. He took one look at that young woman, his eyes scanning her body from leather boots, short skirt, leather top, swelling breasts and gorgeous pouting lips and he was hooked.

“Please sit down here,” said Webber in his plummy voice. He had arranged a chair opposite his so that he could watch her as she sat down and crossed those lovely legs. She made sure as she did so that he caught a glimpse her stocking tops and the milky-whiteness of her thighs above them. “How can I help?” he gulped.

“I want to help you raise funds and would like you to meet a friend of mine who has some good ideas,” she said convincingly.

“Well, if your friend is as pretty as you, how can I resist?”, he snorted.

“My friend is a nun. She would like to meet you and me and discuss an idea she has that will transform your dealings with the sick young people.”

“A nun? Well – I won’t ask what a pretty – sexy – girl like you is doing with the nuns but it sounds interesting. What do I need to do?” What he wanted to do was fuck her and spill his foul seeds all over those gorgeous tits..

“Come up to the convent with me and meet Sister Angel. She has something for you.”

“Sister Angel? She sounds angelic.” Webber’s joke was pathetic but Dominique played along. She laughed – but inwardly not at his joke but the thought that in a short time, this piece of slime would be suffering, taken to a land of pain and punishment.

“Come with me then..I have a car. Let’s go now, we can get it over with and maybe …well I am free tonight”. Dominique’s come-on fooled Webber and he nodded approval, took her arm and walked with her to the car. Within moments they were heading to the hills, towards the convent. She allowed him to fondle and flirt with her – after all it would only make his forthcoming punishment more satisfying. At last they reached the gates of the nunnery. Webber was too taken with

Dominique’s boots to see the sign over the gate, ‘Order of Punishment’. He was too distracted to notice that as they entered the convent grounds, the gates shut behind him. There was no way out, no way back except through repentance. And repent he would. Or be broken.

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