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Penance or Purgatory? As a practising Catholic, the daily dilemma. Until yesterday.
After the office, I’d address my lascivious thoughts of the women there. I had my little ‘collection’ – hair shirts, a lightweight five-tailed ‘discipline,’ and others. Dissatisfied with Hail Mary’s and the like, I’d mop up the blood with an old towel. Perhaps I was a little … odd?
Last week, whilst photocopying, I bumped into Maureen, a clerk. Manly-looking but big breasted, wearing a tight purple jumper.
“D’you have many to do?” she’d asked.
“Just a few invoices.”
She noticed me assessing her bust and I blushed furiously.
“Are you Catholic by any chance?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not, but I’ve sinned. And I need to be punished.”
Shocked, I nevertheless saw opportunity. “You can come to my place … if you like….”
We discussed punishment. Consequently, my new ‘pride and joy’ arrived yesterday – a seven tailed metal ‘discipline,’ ‘handmade by Italian nuns.’
We laid into each other until we were both bleeding profusely.
I fell on the bed. Removing her bra, she collapsed on top of me. I decided then I’d had enough of Catholicism to last me a lifetime but I could live with S&M.
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