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St. Domina A BDSM Story by Harley
Grant Chapter 3: Day of Rest I awoke to discover a paper had been slid under my door. Titled, “Sunday at St. Domina’s” it explained that Sunday was a true day of rest and that no work was imposed on the nuns on this day. Worship was a joy, not a duty, and it explained the worship schedule for the day. There was a note about morning prayer. It said, “On Sunday, in keeping with it being a day of rest, the ritual flogging portion of the liturgy is voluntary and no one need feel guilty or uncomfortable about omitting it.” OK. Glad to know that. I went down to the sanctuary and was directed by signs into a side chapel. There, a semi circle of chairs were assembled around a small altar. Each chair had a prie dieu in front of it; obviously kneeling was to be a part of the service. I selected a chair to one side and knelt on the step of the prie due and began to pray. A few minutes before 6:30, the Novice Mistress came in and sat in one of the leader chairs. A minute later another nun, older, came and sat opposite the Novice Mistress. I was to learn later that she was the Subabbess. Finally, at the utter stroke of 6:30am, the Abbess came in and sat directly behind the altar. Why was I not surprised by her precise timing? She stood, asked us to rise also by a gesture and began the service. It was about what I expected, the chanting of psalms. I heard another male voice and saw it was the guy from last night, the one who’d been eyeing the cute nuns. Eyeing them openly, I should say, since I was doing the same thing, but covertly. He was singing loudly, making his deeper voice heard over the higher-pitched voices of the nuns. I was singing also, but keeping an appropriate level. There were psalms, times of silent meditation where most of the nuns and I kneeled. The man and a few older nuns did not. Near the end of the service, the Abbess rose and invited all who wished to partake in the ritual flogging to come forward making a line. I saw most of the nuns rise and form themselves into a line. The first six nuns came around the altar and knelt in front of it, two at the front, two at the back, one on each side. Each leaned forward and rested their heads on the altar, putting their arms out over their heads. The three nuns leading the service each took up a flogger. They stood in a row, each behind one of the nuns at the altar. They, in unison, swung and stuck the nun in front of them. Three strokes they delivered to each nun, then all three moved one person to the right and began again. So an individual nun at the altar would get three from the first worship leader, three from the second, three from the third. After a nun got her set of strokes, she remained at the altar a moment, then got up. The first nun in line took her place. I was halfway back in line, the only one of the men to have joined the line. I too, took the place of a nun who had been flogged, resting my head forward on the altar. I could feel the residual heat from the previous person who’d been there. I drifted into relaxation and soon felt the sudden impact of the first stroke. One, two, three, pause. And one, two three from the second leader. Another pause, and one, two and the final stroke. I breathed a time or two, got up and left. Like other nuns, I kissed the altar when I left. Back to my seat, I again mediated. The experience of sharing this flogging with the assembly brought me so close to all of them. I could feel the strokes on me, and through them feel what others felt when the blows hit them. After service, I went outside. The paper under my door had explained that Sunday was literally a day to rest, to feel totally unobligated to do anything. I was feeling like I ‘should’ study, so therefore, I should just let it go for one day. I went for a walk around the grounds. The convent had upwards of a thousand acres of land. It was a mixture of lightly wooded areas, small open spaces and a few densely wooded areas as well. It was low hills and I knew that they boasted over three miles of walking paths. I’d noticed also that the map of their grounds didn’t include over half their actual land. It wasn’t obvious, but the walking paths only covered the front half of their land; half was just a blank space on the map. I just wandered aimlessly at first, the paths were well maintained, the air was warm and it was great to be outdoors. I just listened to the birds, the movement of the air and took it all in. I felt the stress leaving, except that the events of the last evening and this morning had left me with a delightful anticipation of the days to come. I found myself drifting to the far end of the grounds. I could see now that the main house was on the south portion of their land, a little towards the east of center. Their walking paths were to the west and edging to the north. But the area behind the main house and to the north and east had no trails. The woods got thicker in that area, and I thought that some of the trees and vegetation looked planted and not natural. Given all I knew about the place, I began to wonder at what secret things existed in that deep woods. I walked farther north, edging my way around to the east. But once you got off the path there was a thicker and thicker tangle of vines, low shrubs and the like. While the rest of the grounds were immaculately kept, these looked wild. I heard some movement, the branches being knocked about. I stepped back toward the path a few paces and moved behind a tree. A man emerged from the vegetation. It was the same guy I’d been noticing, the one at worship who’d been annoying. He saw me, “God damn, you are not going to believe what’s in there.” He threw off the last vines clinging to him, and came toward me. His eyes were bright, with a wild look to them, his shirt had become all sweaty and wrinkled. “The bitches who run this place are stone crazy, man!” He took a breath. “They got a nude woman tied out on the grass and are whipping the shit out of her. Fuck.” How should I reply? “Let’s go see?” “Can I get whipped?” “Do you want to be whipped, too?” I said, “Damn.” “No shit. This is just a fucking whore house, and I am going to get me some of that nun nookey.” “How you going to do that?” “Shit, I’m going to find me a good one and just do it, fuck!” He was clearly wound up. “You think they will do it?” I was trying to play along and sound just crude enough. “Oh hell, they’re all up for it. Got to be dyke shit going on here but fuck that. I got just the one, too, that cute fucking little blond curvy one I saw at dinner last night. Damn.” “Where do you think she is?” “Hell man, I don’t know, but I’m going to go around the front. That’s where the good shit is. I’m just going to go right up and say I need some ministering to me! Hahaha.” “Well, I hope it works out. I think they might not just be up for it.” “Fuck, I figure I’ll tell em’ I’ll put a twenty in the offering plate. How bout that? Twenty for a blow job for Jesus! Forty for the full pounding, maybe.” I was really beginning to hate this guy. But should I tell the nuns about his threat? We exchanged some more talk like this and he puffed off toward the main house. I tried to keep walking but my mind just wasn’t up for it any more. I decided to go back to my room. I had a couple of non-religious books with me, maybe that would resettle my mind. Once I got back I remembered the paper that had been slid under my door. There had been a hand written note on it. “If you are having trouble doing nothing, you may find room 027 to be of interest. From 3pm to midnight.” It was not three, so I sat down to read. I lost track of time, and it was dinner before I knew it. Then I came back, still upset by the man I’d met. I saw the note again and decided that I should take advantage of it. I descended toward the basement, and this time when I got to the doorway, the guest mistress didn’t wait, but smiled at me, and buzzed me through. Down the stairs into the basement I went for the second time. 027 was at the other end. It was a small room with unusual furnishings. There was a table with a nun sitting there reading a book. All the walls of the room were covered in heavy drapes. It appeared that at the back of the room, there was a hallway going off to one side. She put down her book and looked at me. When I didn’t immediately say anything, she said, “first time?” I nodded. “Oh sorry, I should have known. Well, Sunday is our day of rest, but most of us find it very hard to actually do nothing. We find distractions to keep us from really thinking about doing nothing. So we have a facility here to assist in the process. We have a series of rooms, each with a cage in it. Spending time in the cage, there is nothing to do, nothing at all. You cannot find distractions in your environment and the rooms are very quiet. For you, we’d start with a larger cage, and after you’ve spent some time in it, go progressively smaller.” “Of course, this is all totally voluntary and you only go as far as you find comfortable. Would you like to try?” She smiled, very friendly. I said I did, and she brightened and got up and asked me to follow. We went to the back of the room and into the hall. There was a bench with a row of pegs high on the wall. Three held habits of nuns. “You may undress here. Clothes are also a distraction. You can undress as much as you want, but as a favor to me, you could keep your shorts on.” I looked at her. Was this some sort of insult? She looked down at her feet for a second. “It’s my weakness. I like men and their, ah, equipment. You would save me from temptation.” I smiled and nodded. I took off my cloths and hung them on an empty peg. I left my shorts on. She took me across the hall. In a small room, open at the front was a square, wooden cage. It was totally solid, no windows or bars. It was about four feet square, with a wide opening in front. She went ahead of me and opened the door. “In this first stage, you get in and I lock the door. You will see and hear nothing, but you have plenty of room to move. As you are a beginner, I won’t keep you in for very long, just a few minutes. I don’t tell you the exact length, because then you tend to count the time and that defeats the whole thing. But it’s not long.” I nodded and bent over and got inside. “Are you ready?” “Yes, go ahead.” She shut the door and I heard a clasp clicking shut and then a second clasp lower down. I was totally in the dark, I couldn’t see anything. I could kneel, sit, lie curled up. I explored the room for a bit, then, found a comfortable spot and just tried to listen to my breathing. Indeed there was nothing to do. At first it’s agitating, then it is calming as you realize that you are free of tasks and duties, indeed, forced to be free from them. It wasn’t very long before I heard her returning and she opened the door. She motioned me out. As I was getting out, she said softly, “How was it?” “Good. Almost too short, not that I want to go for hours.” She beamed. “The novice Mistress said you were serious about this. It’s so wonderful. Here, let’s go to number two.” Number two was across the hall in a similar room. This cage was only about three feet on a side. Again she opened the door. “This is actually the last time, or almost the last time I’ll talk to you, so the transitions will not be upsetting to the calm you are accumulating. Each time the cage gets more restrictive. But each stage is voluntary, and if you do not want to go further, just tell me when you get out. There is no problem. It’s Sunday, nothing is an obligation.” I got in this cage and it did feel smaller, the experience was different and more confining, even though I could still certainly move. Again I was put in darkness and I began to get into the experience of deeply letting go. After number two came a cage that was really only about as wide as my shoulders and really did restrict me to more or less one posture. After that was a cage that forced me to sit on a chair. When the door was closed an obstruction pushed up against my chest and forced me to stay sitting on the chair without moving very much. Then came a tiny box of a cage that I entered from the top and forced my knees up against my chest. Surely this must be the last one? No, there was another. This was a long thing like a coffin almost. I got in, lay on my back, and the lid came down. I heard a puff of air and a rubber bladder came down out of the roof and pressed against me, molding itself to my body. It kept me from moving at all. I nearly fell asleep in this, the confinement was so peaceful. When I got out, she led me deeper into the hallway. In this room was a three-sided wooden box with a bench in it. There was no top, but the box appeared to have some things protruding from the walls, as best I could see in the dim light. She motioned to me to sit, and I turned around and sat on the bench. Something seemed to be pressing against my ankles and neck. She went to the side and returned with two little boxes, open on one side. Each of these went over one of my feet. I saw that in addition to one open side there was semi-circular cut out on one side adjacent to the open one. She put one over my foot, the opening combining with a another semi-circular depression in a piece of wood behind my ankle. The box snapped into place and my left foot was secured in its own little cage. I could wiggle my toes, but not really move my ankle. She did the same for my other foot. She next brought two smaller versions of the little boxes with their openings. She indicated a narrow shelf that ran along one side of the big box. I could see that I should extend my left arm and rest it on the shelf. When I did, my wrist fit over another piece of wood with a little cut-out in it. One of the little boxes clicked into place and now my wrist and hand were in their one little box, my arm resting on the shelf. I couldn’t move the arm much. She did the right arm in the same way. I was beginning to figure out this cage. But she was only beginning. She returned with a single box, this one rather big and with two cut-outs, on opposite sides of the open side. This fit over my chest, clicked into place on either side and now I couldn’t push my chest forward. I could still wiggle my legs from side to side but her next attachment took that away. A length of wood was fitted between my legs, clicking into the front of the shelf I was sitting on. This served as a knee spreader, pushing my legs apart. She came in close. “Next time, we’ll arrange for one of the lesbian nuns to be on duty. We have all sorts of gadgets to cage up your cock.” She kissed my forehead, her warm, clean smell mixing with the weaker scent of the wood work. She retrieved yet another piece of wood, this a flat board with a cut-out in the middle of one side. This she slid into a slot on either side at neck level and it came forward, fixing my head in a stock. She reached around and swung the front side of the box in place. When it shut, it held the neck stock piece in place. Now my body below the neck was in its own box. Was this it? No, more was yet to come. She came back with another box of wood, this had four sides but no top or bottom. This she lowered in place around my head. I could see only a few inches in front of me, and just barely see over the top of the box. That would also be taken away, for she went around back, and lifted a large lid that was hinged to the back top of the box. This went up and over and down, providing a roof for my head cage and cutting out all my light. I heard a couple of latches clicking in, obviously securing the lid. Now I was totally confined. The confinement of my head, not in a skin-tight mask, but in a small box was a totally different effect. It felt more confining, more restrictive and even frightening. But of course, I could do nothing, and that was the point. Again I tried to relax. Was this the last box? What could top this, I wondered. What a two days this had turned out to be! I already wanted to come back again, and I had five more days to go on this visit. I tried to let go, tried to breath, tried to relax. I flexed my toes and fingers, but just tried to release everything. My cock had gone hard at the close approach of the nun, but I had returned to a relaxed state. I think I was in this one a little longer. At any rate, it felt that way before I thought I heard the latches being undone, and the lid being lifted. As she was undoing all the wooden bondage she said, “I’m sorry I must apologize for talking again.” Her voice was very peaceful, low and gentle. Listening to it was like bobbing on gentle waves. “It’s OK, go ahead.” I let my voice go liquid and gentle, matching hers. “There is one final cage, but it is very different. Harder, much harder, but not in a physical way. In this one, you have room, but the door is unlocked.” I looked a question at her. “You have to decide how much time you want to spend. In all the cages up to now, you weren’t really free to decide how long you were going to be in it. You could always think that you were being forced to goof off. Now you will have to take responsibility for the decision to do nothing. Some get so guilty they leave in a minute.” I nodded, again impressed by the wisdom of this place. I stood up and she motioned me further down to the end of the hallway to the final room. “The best experience happens when the one meditating has no guilt about keeping anyone waiting. All the other nuns are gone now so I’m going to leave you with this cage. You can stay as long as you like or as short. There is no one on this floor, so just leave when you are ready.” The final cage was again about four feet on a side. The door had no locks or latches. I turned to her. “Thank you, thank you so much.” I meant it; this had been another wonderful step in the journey. She bowed to me. “Stay as long, or as short, as you like.” And she turned and walked away. I watched her retreating form for a second, then got into the cage.
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