I heard a dog bark in the distance. A chink of light came around the edge of the blind as the sun rose for the start of another day. As it climbed a little more, patterns of light danced on the wall until a single strong beam was cast on the wooden crucifix that hung directly opposite the end of my bed.
Another day! But this was no ordinary day -- it was the dawn of my fiftieth birthday; a day that had been long coming and would, no doubt, soon pass. For more than a decade, I had dreaded today. I did not often consider my own mortality, but my father, who spent much of his working life planning a long and happy retirement, passed before reaching his sixtieth birthday -- and I wonder if this is to be my last decade too.
I had long since stopped attending church, but I had treasured the crucifix since adolescence. It had been given to me by our family priest on my thirteenth birthday, but it had a secret that had stayed with it for all those years, never once told by me. As I lay in my bed, watching the sunbeam play on the bronze figure of Christ, I could not help but to think back to that day when I became a teenager.
--------------------------
The service had ended and Father Ignatius had said goodbye to the last of the faithful few who still came to a weekday Mass. Andrew, the altar boy, was tidying up the sanctuary -- so many little chores -- the cruets to be returned to their place in the vestry; the silverware to be cleaned and put back in the safe; the Altar Missal to be reset -- the ribbon markers moved to next week's readings; and the Priest's vestments to be hung and returned to their closet once he disrobed. Andrew moved around quietly -- he had been an altar boy since he was five and had started to carry the incense boat. Today, he turned thirteen -- so there was a sense of urgency in completing the chores. School was out for the summer, and so he had the rest of the day to himself. Maybe a bike ride somewhere or perhaps take a fishing rod down to the pond and see if anything would surrender to a carefully baited hook?
Sister Mary was sat quietly in the front pew. She had grown up in the parish, and so many people had found it hard to adjust to seeing her back. Everyone knew her as Tammy -- but now she was Sister Mary. Tammy had been a mischievous, fun loving girl. She was in her early twenties now, but she had a little 'reputation'. She was what was known as an "early developer" and by the age of twelve or thirteen had developed an ample bosom that attracted the attention of the boys in school, and, if truth were told, a few of their fathers too. Mothers warned sons that she was "not a good girl", which only fired up even more interest. After she left school, Tammy seemed to develop an interest in older men. She would wear clothes that accentuated her bust and her behind. Low cut tops, short skirts and fishnet stockings were common choices for Tammy. But now, Sister Mary was visiting. She had been away at the convent for a little over a year, and now those assets -- a faint memory for so many men in the parish -- were hidden under a white wimple and black veil, concealing a full head of long curly brown hair. And who knew what secrets were hidden under that long black habit? Perhaps Father Ignatius did?
Andrew sat quietly polishing silver in the corner of the vestry, hidden from view by a curtain that divided the room. Voices could be heard approaching, and the door opened. Andrew immediately recognized both voices -- Father Ignatius and Tammy, Sister Mary, came into the vestry.
"It's been a while" Andrew heard the Priest say "I've missed our little meetings"
"Yes, Father" the Nun replied, in a soft and submissive tone "but I'm ready to submit to your punishment for going away"
Andrew saw the old Priest move the Bishop's Throne to the center of the room. The Bishop's Throne was a large heavy oak chair used to seat visiting ecclesiastical dignitaries -- like when the Bishop or Arch Deacon came to officiate at the annual Confirmation service. It was hard for the old man to move the chair -- but something stopped Andrew from jumping to his feet and offering to help. He sat, transfixed on the scene unfolding on the other side of the curtain. Very quietly -- hoping not be seen or heard.
Father Ignatius removed the first of his vestments, and threw the green chasuble onto the table. Next, he removed the matching stole, and as custom demanded, he kissed the cross embroidered in the center and folding it carefully, placed it on top of the chasuble. Then he untied the girdle -- a soft white rope with tasseled ends -- he showed it to Sister Mary, who was standing quietly watch the Priest disrobe. He smiled, and her eyes fell to the floor. He placed the girdle on the oak chair.
The alb fell loose and he pulled it over his head. Crisp, white linen that rustled as it moved. And now the priest was left standing in his black cassock. Sister Mary raised her eyes and looked at the thirty-three buttons down the front. She reached to his waist, and started to unbutton those from the waist to the ground. She reached a hand inside the cassock, and determined that he was naked, at least from his waist down. The Priest took the Nun's arm and led her to the center of the room, so that she was standing facing the back of the oak Throne.
"Are you ready and willing?" he said softly "you have been a bad girl" Sister Mary nodded, but chose to say nothing.
"I asked if you were ready and willing to accept your punishment -- answer me, girl!" he said sternly.
"Yes, Father" she said quietly "I think I am ready"
Father Ignatius bent her forward over the throne. He took her right hand and placed it firmly on the right arm of the throne, then took her left hand and placed it on the left arm of the throne. He reached for the girdle, and deftly tied each wrist to the chair. No more the Nun, she was replaced by the eager slut that had been Tammy.
