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I forced myself to eat the dinner, almost too exhausted to lift the knife and fork. Shortly afterwards, dressed in a pair of Margaret’s deceased husband’s pyjamas, I was in bed in the spare room. I went to sleep almost immediately.I woke up suddenly. I was sister Helena, dressed in her habit, my face looking out between the blinkers of her deep-sided wimple. My mouth was stuffed with cloth and clamped shut with a scarf tightly wound around my head inside the wimple. My ankles and knees were tied together. My wrists and elbows were tied behind my back. Except for the gag, those restraints were hidden inside my nun’s habit. In front of me was an older nun. Instinctively I knew this was the Mother Superior. I was being held by a nun either side of me. I could only see part of their habits. The rest of them was hidden by the sides of my wimple.“sister Helena,” the Mother Superior said coldly, “you have broken our rule of silence. Of course you have nothing to say in your defence. You are. She opened a dresser drawer and retrieved a large baggy tee shirt. She lent forward and asked me to undo her suspender belt. I obliged and she unfastened her suspenders from her stocking tops and removed the belt. She then lifted each leg in turn and slid her stockings off - I was starting to get excited again, watching this display. She dropped the belt and stockings beside the bed and slipped the tee shirt over her head. She stood up and the material draped her body to just below her bum. Her cunt was just hidden and no more, and I expected her to get fresh panties and put them on, however, she just headed for the door dressed as she was."I'll make coffee and a couple of sandwiches," she advised over her shoulder as she went out the door.I lay there in the sunshine thinking about what was happening to me and how great it all was. I was dying to boast to someone, anyone, and to tell them all about it and how marvellous it all was but I realised that I could never tell anyone. I.
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