Offering Up my Suffering

My day has been dominated by a malfunctioning bra. Who thought it would be a good idea to put metal in underwear? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m as much a fan of the ‘boobs aloft’ Wonderbra profile as I expect you are. And it does mean my tits enter the room several seconds before I do (now if only I could train them to report back on any potential hazards). But I finally lost all sense of reason in Waterstones and ripped out the under-wiring – in the ladies, not in the middle of Military History – heaving a huge sigh of relief as my puppies nestled back down on my rib cage and went to sleep.

And that would be where that anecdote ended if I didn’t live with an evil doctor who insisted on examining my angry red welts and prescribing a rigorous regime of baby oil massages and a protein-rich diet of spunk as the only hope of a cure, “With the possible exception of the all-naked, flagellatory pilgrimage to Lourdes, and I’m saving that up for a special occasion.” This is actually a very bad mixture of things to be prescribed and a last-minute oily slither meant that most of the spunk went up my nose, which stings like heck.

D: Tsk! Now you’re going to have to do it again, you silly girl. But not for at least twenty minutes, if that’s alright with you love.

L: OK, tell me more about the all-naked flagell…flag…thing you said.

D: It’s pretty much as described really Lucy. When I say all-naked, I should perhaps clarify that only you would be naked.

L: And the flagel-thingy?

D: That would be an appropriate punishment for your sins.

L: Would you be administering that?

D: Not on my own. Any nuns we encounter on the way could have a go while I had a little sit down.”

L: Would these be nymphomaniac 18 year old nuns who are entirely naked beneath their scratchy habits.

D; Yes, they could take their habits off but I’d make them keep their wimples on.

L: I’d have made a good nymphomaniac nun, don’t you think?”

D: Right up to the point you got walled up alive in the cellar of the convent for being a familiar of the devil.

L: But that wouldn’t have been for ages. Inquisitors would have chained me up and threatened me with white hot burning brands for ages before they got round to walling me up.

D: That’s true. And I imagine they’d have thrown you in a pit of some kind to be scurried over in the dark by rats at some point.

L: I don’t think I’d like that.

D: In fairness Lucy, I don’t think you’re meant to like any of it.

L: If you were an inquisitor with a white hot burning brand, where would you apply it?

D: (thinks for a bit) Here. And then here.

L: (wide eyed) Oh!

D: If you were a naked nymphomaniac nun in a wimple, do you think you’d like that?

L: What you’re doing now, with your fingers? Yes, I think I’d like that. If I were a nymphomaniac. Which I’m not.

D: You know, it might not take the full twenty minutes before we have another go…

L: (raises eyebrow)

D: Don’t get over-excited, it’s just a prophecy of things to come, not a resurrection.

L: Would it help if I confessed some of my sins?

D: Possibly. Start with the ones you’ve committed with your fellow novices…

Comments

[Vespe]

Ah that's funny, so it is.