(Kinky nuns are a BDSM staple and with good reason. Prepare to meet Sister Elizabeth. Her methods are unorthodox but you will submit or face eternal damnation.)

At the sound of her footfall, his body tenses. It’s a reflex, his muscles tightening in expectation. He’s heard the stories, has forced himself to come here, and now it will begin.

Outside the door, he hears her pause, imagines red polished fingernails, pale hands encircling the handle. He’s sure he hears her breathe and he shivers as though her lips were on his neck.

“Andrew,” the door opens and Sister Elizabeth stands in the doorway, the flickering light of the candles only partially illuminating her face. A black skirt clings to her hips, her heels are vertiginous spikes. Stockings, scarlet lips, hair which brushes the curve of her breasts. Has she deliberately left undone the top button of her crisp white shirt? Surely a woman of the church wouldn’t choose to expose such creamy skin. He looks away.

Sister Elizabeth glides across the floor, sits opposite him, her skirt stretched tight over crossed legs. Perhaps there’s a flash of stocking, a suspender digging into submissively soft flesh, but he can’t be sure. Her eyes are fixed on his.

“Before we begin,” she says. “I need to be sure you understand. My methods are unconventional, but they get results. I can help you, but only if you trust me, only if you are willing to follow my instructions exactly.”

He nods, forces himself to speak. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I need help. I’m willing to you whatever you tell me.”

“I believe confession is most powerful when accompanied by mortification of the flesh,” she says and her lips gleam. He imagines sliding his tongue into her mouth but checks himself, her domination is absolute.

“Come with me,” she stretches out a hand and her fingertips brush his chest.

“Remove your trousers and shirt,” she tells him, her face impassive, and when he’s done, she raises his hands over his head and he finds himself bound above a bed, blindfolded, unable to move.

“Sanctification,” she whispers in his ear, and the smell of her is so close. “Your sinful nature must be tamed.”

Standing in darkness, he feels something brush against him, knows the hardness of his cock must be visible through his shorts. A sin. She gives a little laugh, her hand grazes his erection momentarily.

“Such weakness,” her nails scratch his back and he cries out but is silenced by her tongue.

“Only through the subjugation of your body will you be cleansed,” her hand is pulling down his shorts. He feels his legs kicked roughly apart. Something cold and wet glides down his back and between his buttocks. She bites his neck, wraps cool fingers around his cock, slides a finger into his anus.

He struggles against his restraints but the pleasure is intense. Somehow, she has removed her clothes and he feels breasts against his back, the tickle of pubic hair. Her hand is stroking his cock and soon it will be over. And then the confession will begin…