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Reform School: A Nun?s Story

Jill Crokett?s

Reform School: Memoirs of a Nun

Chapter 1

In 1999 I received a telephone call from a man who introduced himself as an attorney calling from San Francisco, in America. The only unusual thing about the call, other than the fact that I had never heard of him, was the fact that I live in the town of Dubbo, in Australia, several hours drive west of Sydney.

My father?s side of the family has lived here in New South Wales for generations, but on my mother?s side my grandfather was from the Midwestern American state of Indiana, emigrating to New South Wales as a young man in the 1930s.? He had four brothers, none of whom I ever met, and a sister, who I met just twice, the first time being when she visited my grandfather during a trip to Australia in 1973.? At the time I was sixteen, she would then have been about sixty.

?I remember my great aunt Veronica as an independent, intelligent woman who seemed to behave in a manner younger than her years. She owned her own business, a private employment agency in San Francisco, with another woman partner.? The employment agency had apparently grown to become quite successful, contracting with the hordes of young Americans swarming westward into the city in the heady? days of the 1960s and 70?s.? My grandfather told me that his sister Veronica had been a nun for many years, eventually leaving the convent in the late 1950?s.? She had never married.?

Other than her visit in 1973, the only other time I saw my great-aunt Veronica was at my grandfather?s funeral ten years later, in 1983. She was the only one of granddad?s American relatives to attend, and in fact she was still the only one any of us had ever met. After the funeral Veronica stayed on in Dubbo for over a week, doing tea with gramp?s relatives and enduring a weekend trip to Sydney with me in my rusty old 1969 Holden.? I distinctly remember that, for a woman of seventy, she was quite fun to talk to, and she even invited me, more than once, to visit her in California sometime.? I never did.

The substance of the call from San Francisco in 1999 was surprising to me, given that I had only spent time with my great aunt on two occasions.? Somehow, despite our limited contact, I must have impressed Veronica on some level.? The man calling from San Francisco told me that my grandfather?s sister, who had no children, had included her Australian grand-niece in her will.

Veronica left the primary asset of her modest estate, her beautiful single-family home in the city?s Mission district, which she had purchased with her business partner for next to nothing in 1966, to the niece of her late business partner. What the 87-year-old matron had left me, the lawyer said, was the contents of a single, small safe deposit box.

My trans-Pacific journey to retrieve the contents of the box was uneventful, but opening it, as I stood alone in a small quiet office off the lobby of a swank San Francisco bank, was unforgetful. Enclosed in the long, short tin box I found seven certificates of deposit of varying maturity dates, each worth roughly between $20,000 and $40,000.? Under them was a thick, yellowing envelope containing a stack of old United States Savings Bonds, together worth about $20,000. ?Beneath the yellowing envelope was a carefully folded document , neatly typed on white stationary with an old ribbon-style typewriter.? I told everyone about the money right away. It has taken me seven years to find the courage to reveal the content of the neatly typed document I found at the bottom of the tin box that foggy morning. As reluctant as I am to release the following document, I feel obligated to do what my great aunt wanted done following her death.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Veronica Smelts???? San Francisco, Calif.???? Nov. 10, 1978

As I reflect back on my 65 years, a little more than 25 of which I spent as a nun in the Order of the Sisters of St. Michael of the Angels, I look back from the perspective of the social changes brought by those years, changes that shaped both my personal life and society in general, and I feel it is important to record the history of my formative experiences as a young nun in the 1930s, as well my experiences as an established sister of my order in the 1940s and 50?s.

This, my personal testimony of those times, is given in light of the changes in social and religious thought that has evolved since that rather dark era. While I feel it is important for me to tell my story, it is a story which I am only comfortable telling after I am gone. It is all very true.

In the summer of 1934 I knelt humbly yet proudly on the cool marble floor in the chapel of our order?s motherhouse in Chicago and professed to the Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to my Superiors, dedicating my life to the Order of the Sisters of St. Michael of the Angels.?

For two years I had prepared for that special day by serving as a novice there at the order?s reform school and main convent, or motherhouse, in Chicago. On taking my permanent vows as a nun that day, I also took a new name.? My heart swelled with pride as the bishop laid his hands on my head and proclaimed me ?Sister Vincent? before my parents, brothers, and fellow nuns.

My mother and father, who had traveled from our farm in rural Indiana to be there that day, looked on as their only daughter, bathed in the multicolored light of the chapel?s stained-glass windows, dedicated her life to the service of those youth who were most urgently in need of God?s guidance and unending love. Their daughter had become a nun.?

My father, though he never told me so directly, was disappointed with my choice. My mother on the other hand, a devout, strong-willed woman who had successfully raised five God-fearing sons, was proud of my decision. She felt, as I did, that my chosen vocation would allow me to help make the world a better place. As I look back on that day I regret that I never told her that she had been my inspiration. Growing up I had watched her persuasive, caring hands guide my brothers through the difficult challenges of youth at a time when other boys, less guided, would have fallen astray.?

My chosen religious order, the Sisters of St. Michael of the Angels, was founded in the shadows of the youth-filled sweatshops of the late 19th century. It was a time when parents, often with no understanding or control over human reproduction, were blessed with many mouths to feed. Overpopulated orphanages frequently ejected incorrigible boys as young as 12 or 13, forcing them to fend for themselves on the streets of large cities. Government social programs for delinquent teens did not exist at that time.?

If caught stealing, courts of the day offered these youth only adult justice for their crimes. To combat this inequity, many young males found security in criminal association, and gangs of incorrigible teenage boys roamed the streets vandalizing, stealing, intimidating, and extorting, often with impunity.

The dedicated sisters of St. Michael?s established their first reform school in a donated building in Chicago in 1888.? Boys from 13 to 16 years old, who were found to be unmanageable by either their parents or their orphanage, were chronic runaways, or had been arrested for an adult crime and sent by the court, were taken in by the sisters.? The novel new religious order grew rapidly on a philosophy of behavioral reform for incorrigible boys through the application of strict corporal discipline.? It should be noted that the mission of the founding sisters was not just to keep troubled boys out of adult prisons, but to reform their character as well, returning them to society as law abiding, productive Christians.? Needless to say, it was a most challenging mission.

As new reformatories opened in other cities, additional sisters, mostly women from strict, religious, Midwestern farm families, volunteered to join the order.? These new nuns were trained in the judicious administration of strict discipline, and by the early 1930s, reform schools were being operated by the Order in nine large American cities. Social service programs for misguided youth were rare at the time, and the sisters often received direct referrals from the courts, gaining the praise of judges and civic leaders, both Protestant and Catholic alike, who believed that our order of nuns offered the best hope for reforming criminalized youth.

My parents were happy that my first assignment was to the sisters? reformatory in Indianapolis. There they could visit me on the occasionally weekend, driving in from the family farm near Jeffersonville. In Indianapolis I would undergo training which would prepare me to become an Assistant Director of Discipline at one of the order?s other reformatories. Sister Joseph, the Director of Discipline in Indianapolis, would be my Superior, schooling me in both the application of disciplinary procedures and the administration of a disciplinary office.

I was told by the Mother Superior in Chicago that, after two or three years of training under Sister Joseph and her Assistant, Sister Anne, in Indianapolis, she was confidant I would be able to take on my own assignment as an Assistant Director of Discipline at one of the Order?s other reformatories. As I left her office, a confidant 21-year-old excited about the adventure of my first assignment, Mother Superior presented me with a light hearted departing gift; a narrow hardwood paddle with the seal of our religious order on it.

Sister Joseph was a stout 57-year-old, rather serious woman of Irish parentage who had thick arms and always spoke with an air of authority, regardless of whether she were addressing a teenage boy, a parent, or a fellow sister. Under her habit she wore her stiff, graying hair in a tight bun rather than cutting it short as most of the other sisters did. A thick, compact woman, of about five foot three, Sister Joseph wore the same dark-gray, floor length habit that all the sisters wore, but hers, due to her thickness, seemed more fitted, causing her large bosoms to visibly jiggle when she stroked away at a boy?s bottom.

Sister Joe, as we called her behind her back, had a very direct, matter of fact manner about her, and her personality seemed to exuded a silent dominance over a room whenever she entered. She was a natural disciplinarian. She had entered the convent as a girl of eighteen in the early, developing years of the order, just before the turn of the century, rising over the years to a position of authority.? She sincerely seemed to relish that authority.? I later learned that three years earlier Sister Joseph had turned down an appointment to the honored position of Mother Superior of the order?s Cleveland convent in order to keep her position as Director of Discipline in Indianapolis.

At times I felt that, even for a nun in charge of discipline, Sister Joseph could be quite strict. She firmly believed that sparing the rod would spoil the child, a verse which she often quoted to a boy as she took down his trousers.? She totally savored in breaking a boy?s will, often waiting until he broke down and cried, pleading ?please, please stop, I can?t take any more sister!? before applying her firmest, fastest strokes.? She definitely loved hearing a bad boy cry, and if they were sent to her office, they did.

Sister Joseph took special zeal in punishing a boy in front of several other females, such as a small gathering of fellow nuns, or, such as on the infrequent occasion when a boy might be remanded to the reformatory by possibly not only his mother, but an accompanying aunt, grandmother, or other matronly family member.?

?Mature women,? she once said in her slight Irish brogue, ?are more inclined to appreciate the fine maternal art of discipline and control.?? She once told me a story about a reformatory boy she?d caught masturbating with a stolen dirty magazine in a linen storage room.? She proudly boasted that she waited until visiting day, and then, in her office, severely paddled the boy in front of his visiting mother, aunt, grandmother, and older teenage sister.

?Making that boy drop his trousers in front four females gave him a temporary lesson in humility, but making him squeal in front of them as I reddened his bottom helped keep him in line for years? she said, adding with a rare smile ?Sister Vincent, I may have well saved him from prison.?

------------------------------------------------------------------

Coming soon in Chapter Two of Jill Crokett?s Reform School: Memoir of a Nun things heat up as disciplinarian-in-training Sr. Vincent sits in on several of Sr. Joseph?s severe punishments, witnesses a circumcision without anesthesia, and is coerced by Sr. Joseph to undergo the required annual medical examination by the school?s visiting doctor. In the meantime please enjoy one of Ms. Crokett?s other popular stories on this site, including:

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives one of the Top 25 Overall Most Popular stories on this site

Diary of a Nazi Rape Squad hugely popular new story with regular updates posted

Or, read another story about female domination of young males in Jill Crokett?s Sex Secrets Men Never Hear

For the complete selection of Jill Crokett?s stories simply click the back button on your browser, then double click on the author?s name next to this story?s title

You can write Ms. Crokett at [email protected]

Jill Crokett?s

Reform School: Memoirs of a Nun

Chapter 1

In 1999 I received a telephone call from a man who introduced himself as an attorney calling from San Francisco, in America. The only unusual thing about the call, other than the fact that I had never heard of him, was the fact that I live in the town of Dubbo, in Australia, several hours drive west of Sydney.

My father?s side of the family has lived here in New South Wales for generations, but on my mother?s side my grandfather was from the Midwestern American state of Indiana, emigrating to New South Wales as a young man in the 1930s.? He had four brothers, none of whom I ever met, and a sister, who I met just twice, the first time being when she visited my grandfather during a trip to Australia in 1973.? At the time I was sixteen, she would then have been about sixty.

?I remember my great aunt Veronica as an independent, intelligent woman who seemed to behave in a manner younger than her years. She owned her own business, a private employment agency in San Francisco, with another woman partner.? The employment agency had apparently grown to become quite successful, contracting with the hordes of young Americans swarming westward into the city in the heady? days of the 1960s and 70?s.? My grandfather told me that his sister Veronica had been a nun for many years, eventually leaving the convent in the late 1950?s.? She had never married.?

Other than her visit in 1973, the only other time I saw my great-aunt Veronica was at my grandfather?s funeral ten years later, in 1983. She was the only one of granddad?s American relatives to attend, and in fact she was still the only one any of us had ever met. After the funeral Veronica stayed on in Dubbo for over a week, doing tea with gramp?s relatives and enduring a weekend trip to Sydney with me in my rusty old 1969 Holden.? I distinctly remember that, for a woman of seventy, she was quite fun to talk to, and she even invited me, more than once, to visit her in California sometime.? I never did.

The substance of the call from San Francisco in 1999 was surprising to me, given that I had only spent time with my great aunt on two occasions.? Somehow, despite our limited contact, I must have impressed Veronica on some level.? The man calling from San Francisco told me that my grandfather?s sister, who had no children, had included her Australian grand-niece in her will.

Veronica left the primary asset of her modest estate, her beautiful single-family home in the city?s Mission district, which she had purchased with her business partner for next to nothing in 1966, to the niece of her late business partner. What the 87-year-old matron had left me, the lawyer said, was the contents of a single, small safe deposit box.

My trans-Pacific journey to retrieve the contents of the box was uneventful, but opening it, as I stood alone in a small quiet office off the lobby of a swank San Francisco bank, was unforgetful. Enclosed in the long, short tin box I found seven certificates of deposit of varying maturity dates, each worth roughly between $20,000 and $40,000.? Under them was a thick, yellowing envelope containing a stack of old United States Savings Bonds, together worth about $20,000. ?Beneath the yellowing envelope was a carefully folded document , neatly typed on white stationary with an old ribbon-style typewriter.? I told everyone about the money right away. It has taken me seven years to find the courage to reveal the content of the neatly typed document I found at the bottom of the tin box that foggy morning. As reluctant as I am to release the following document, I feel obligated to do what my great aunt wanted done following her death.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Veronica Smelts???? San Francisco, Calif.???? Nov. 10, 1978

As I reflect back on my 65 years, a little more than 25 of which I spent as a nun in the Order of the Sisters of St. Michael of the Angels, I look back from the perspective of the social changes brought by those years, changes that shaped both my personal life and society in general, and I feel it is important to record the history of my formative experiences as a young nun in the 1930s, as well my experiences as an established sister of my order in the 1940s and 50?s.

This, my personal testimony of those times, is given in light of the changes in social and religious thought that has evolved since that rather dark era. While I feel it is important for me to tell my story, it is a story which I am only comfortable telling after I am gone. It is all very true.

In the summer of 1934 I knelt humbly yet proudly on the cool marble floor in the chapel of our order?s motherhouse in Chicago and professed to the Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to my Superiors, dedicating my life to the Order of the Sisters of St. Michael of the Angels.?

For two years I had prepared for that special day by serving as a novice there at the order?s reform school and main convent, or motherhouse, in Chicago. On taking my permanent vows as a nun that day, I also took a new name.? My heart swelled with pride as the bishop laid his hands on my head and proclaimed me ?Sister Vincent? before my parents, brothers, and fellow nuns.

My mother and father, who had traveled from our farm in rural Indiana to be there that day, looked on as their only daughter, bathed in the multicolored light of the chapel?s stained-glass windows, dedicated her life to the service of those youth who were most urgently in need of God?s guidance and unending love. Their daughter had become a nun.?

My father, though he never told me so directly, was disappointed with my choice. My mother on the other hand, a devout, strong-willed woman who had successfully raised five God-fearing sons, was proud of my decision. She felt, as I did, that my chosen vocation would allow me to help make the world a better place. As I look back on that day I regret that I never told her that she had been my inspiration. Growing up I had watched her persuasive, caring hands guide my brothers through the difficult challenges of youth at a time when other boys, less guided, would have fallen astray.?

My chosen religious order, the Sisters of St. Michael of the Angels, was founded in the shadows of the youth-filled sweatshops of the late 19^th century. It was a time when parents, often with no understanding or control over human reproduction, were blessed with many mouths to feed. Overpopulated orphanages frequently ejected incorrigible boys as young as 12 or 13, forcing them to fend for themselves on the streets of large cities. Government social programs for delinquent teens did not exist at that time.?

If caught stealing, courts of the day offered these youth only adult justice for their crimes. To combat this inequity, many young males found security in criminal association, and gangs of incorrigible teenage boys roamed the streets vandalizing, stealing, intimidating, and extorting, often with impunity.

The dedicated sisters of St. Michael?s established their first reform school in a donated building in Chicago in 1888.? Boys from 13 to 16 years old, who were found to be unmanageable by either their parents or their orphanage, were chronic runaways, or had been arrested for an adult crime and sent by the court, were taken in by the sisters.? The novel new religious order grew rapidly on a philosophy of behavioral reform for incorrigible boys through the application of strict corporal discipline.? It should be noted that the mission of the founding sisters was not just to keep troubled boys out of adult prisons, but to reform their character as well, returning them to society as law abiding, productive Christians.? Needless to say, it was a most challenging mission.

As new reformatories opened in other cities, additional sisters, mostly women from strict, religious, Midwestern farm families, volunteered to join the order.? These new nuns were trained in the judicious administration of strict discipline, and by the early 1930s, reform schools were being operated by the Order in nine large American cities. Social service programs for misguided youth were rare at the time, and the sisters often received direct referrals from the courts, gaining the praise of judges and civic leaders, both Protestant and Catholic alike, who believed that our order of nuns offered the best hope for reforming criminalized youth.

My parents were happy that my first assignment was to the sisters? reformatory in Indianapolis. There they could visit me on the occasionally weekend, driving in from the family farm near Jeffersonville. In Indianapolis I would undergo training which would prepare me to become an Assistant Director of Discipline at one of the order?s other reformatories. Sister Joseph, the Director of Discipline in Indianapolis, would be my Superior, schooling me in both the application of disciplinary procedures and the administration of a disciplinary office.

I was told by the Mother Superior in Chicago that, after two or three years of training under Sister Joseph and her Assistant, Sister Anne, in Indianapolis, she was confidant I would be able to take on my own assignment as an Assistant Director of Discipline at one of the Order?s other reformatories. As I left her office, a confidant 21-year-old excited about the adventure of my first assignment, Mother Superior presented me with a light hearted departing gift; a narrow hardwood paddle with the seal of our religious order on it.

Sister Joseph was a stout 57-year-old, rather serious woman of Irish parentage who had thick arms and always spoke with an air of authority, regardless of whether she were addressing a teenage boy, a parent, or a fellow sister. Under her habit she wore her stiff, graying hair in a tight bun rather than cutting it short as most of the other sisters did. A thick, compact woman, of about five foot three, Sister Joseph wore the same dark-gray, floor length habit that all the sisters wore, but hers, due to her thickness, seemed more fitted, causing her large bosoms to visibly jiggle when she stroked away at a boy?s bottom.

Sister Joe, as we called her behind her back, had a very direct, matter of fact manner about her, and her personality seemed to exuded a silent dominance over a room whenever she entered. She was a natural disciplinarian. She had entered the convent as a girl of eighteen in the early, developing years of the order, just before the turn of the century, rising over the years to a position of authority.? She sincerely seemed to relish that authority.? I later learned that three years earlier Sister Joseph had turned down an appointment to the honored position of Mother Superior of the order?s Cleveland convent in order to keep her position as Director of Discipline in Indianapolis.

At times I felt that, even for a nun in charge of discipline, Sister Joseph could be quite strict. She firmly believed that sparing the rod would spoil the child, a verse which she often quoted to a boy as she took down his trousers.? She totally savored in breaking a boy?s will, often waiting until he broke down and cried, pleading ?please, please stop, I can?t take any more sister!? before applying her firmest, fastest strokes.? She definitely loved hearing a bad boy cry, and if they were sent to her office, they did.

Sister Joseph took special zeal in punishing a boy in front of several other females, such as a small gathering of fellow nuns, or, such as on the infrequent occasion when a boy might be remanded to the reformatory by possibly not only his mother, but an accompanying aunt, grandmother, or other matronly family member.?

?Mature women,? she once said in her slight Irish brogue, ?are more inclined to appreciate the fine maternal art of discipline and control.?? She once told me a story about a reformatory boy she?d caught masturbating with a stolen dirty magazine in a linen storage room.? She proudly boasted that she waited until visiting day, and then, in her office, severely paddled the boy in front of his visiting mother, aunt, grandmother, and older teenage sister.

?Making that boy drop his trousers in front four females gave him a temporary lesson in humility, but making him squeal in front of them as I reddened his bottom helped keep him in line for years? she said, adding with a rare smile ?Sister Vincent, I may have well saved him from prison.?

------------------------------------------------------------------

Coming soon in Chapter Two of Jill Crokett?s Reform School: Memoir of a Nun things heat up as disciplinarian-in-training Sr. Vincent sits in on several of Sr. Joseph?s severe punishments, witnesses a circumcision without anesthesia, and is coerced by Sr. Joseph to undergo the required annual medical examination by the school?s visiting doctor. In the meantime please enjoy one of Ms. Crokett?s other popular stories on this site, including:

Execution of the Terrorist Housewives one of the Top 25 Overall Most Popular stories on this site

Diary of a Nazi Rape Squad hugely popular new story with regular updates posted

Or, read another story about female domination of young males in Jill Crokett?s Sex Secrets Men Never Hear

For the complete selection of Jill Crokett?s stories simply click the back button on your browser, then double click on the author?s name next to this story?s title

You can write Ms. Crokett at [email protected]

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----------------------- MEMOIRS OF A Woman of Pleasure. LETTER THE SECOND Part-3 “What shall I say? my emotions of fear and surprise were instantly subdued by those of the pleasure I bespoke in great presence of mind from the turn this adventure might take. He seemed to me no other than a pitying angel, dropt out of the clouds: for he was young and perfectly handsome, which was more than even I had asked for, man, in general, being all that my utmost desires had pointed at. I thought then I...

Fanny Hill Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure Letter the Second Part4

----------------------- MEMOIRS OF A Woman of Pleasure. LETTER THE SECOND Part-4 As soon as he was off, I ran to her, and sitting down on the couch by her, rais’d her head, which she declined gently, and hung on my bosom, to hide her blushes and confusion at what had passed, till by degrees she re-composed herself, and accepted of a restorative glass of wine from my spark, who had left me to fetch it to her, whilst her own was readjusting his affaire and buttoning up; after which he led...

Fanny Hill Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure Letter the Second Part5

MEMOIRS OF A Woman of Pleasure. LETTER THE SECOND PART-5 As it was an inviolable law for every gallant to keep to his partner, for the night especially, and even till he relinquished possession over to the community, in order to preserve a pleasing property, and to avoid the disgusts and indelicacy of another arrangement, the company, after a short refection of biscuits and wine, tea and chocolate, served in at now about one in the morning, broke up, and went off in pairs. Mrs. Cole had...

Fanny Hill Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure Letter the Second Part6

MEMOIRS OF A Woman of Pleasure. PART 6 Whilst I was chaffering for the fruit I wanted, I observed myself followed by a young gentleman, whose rich dress first attracted my notice; for the rest, he had nothing remarkable in his person, except that he was pale, thin-made, and ventured himself upon legs rather of the slenderest. Easy was it to perceive, without seeming to perceive it, that it was me he wanted to be at; and keeping his eyes fixed on me, till he came to the same basket that I...

Janes Initiation by a Strict Nun

Janes Initiation by a Strict NunThe blonde bombshell bounded up the steps to St. Monica's School forGirls. Her unusually large breasts bouncing up and down and side-to-sidelike small cantaloupes trapped in a bra. Her petite frame and figure wereidentical to Jenna, except her breasts were even LARGER than Jenna's. Withan easy pull she opened the large heavy wooden front door to the school andwalked in.Her firm tight ass swayed easily from side-to-side and each step caused hershort navy mini to...

Seduced by a Nun

“Ah there is a Nun to see you my lord,” Carruthers my butler intoned one morning while I was reading quietly in my library. “A Nun Carruthers, A Nun?” I queried. “Quite so sir, dressed in a black habit as is their habit, with a white surplice,” he elaborated. “I know what a Nun looks like, sort of an elongated Penguin with longer legs, but what does she want with me?” I enquired. “A delicate matter she informs me, my lord.” he explained. “Well give her a guinea and send her hence,” I...

Reform School TutorChapter 8 Nearly killed

My relationship with Paul improved slightly over the coming weeks but was never more than cordial. I refused to call him Mr. Manning as that would give him a degree of superiority and after the first week he stopped referring to me as Miss Lewis. He also stopped sending students to me for the strap but several times I reprimanded a student for lack of effort or some other minor misdeed without being told. I'm not sure if he appreciated it, but I wasn't castigated for it. However, an...

Reform School TutorChapter 5 Further problems

"NO! Don't do it. It's unfair, it's unjust!" I screamed as the principal prepared to thrash Kate with the strap. A hand over my mouth temporarily silenced me and others kept me in my chair. My turn would be next and in a way, it was my fault we were both getting punished; I rebelled against Paul's bullying but he'd twisted it so I was in the wrong. A month at the reform school and I was getting on well and fitted in with the other staff and the students. My arse still showed the cane...

Reform School

"Is this really necessary?" I said to my parents "Yes, reform school is the only answer, we're sorry" I watched the car drive of until it was out of sight. The principal of the school told me that the head of my dormitory would escort me to my bed and get me settled in. "Well, I don't even have to ask why you were sent here and by your clothes alone I can see you are a tomboy" said the head of my dorm (Tegan) "I know exactly were to put you". She had allocated me to a bed in the corner and...

Lesbian

Reform School TutorChapter 2 Abed with Kate

"She didn't take her punishment very well, Paul." Through my tears and the noise of my crying, I didn't see or hear David enter the room. My body began shaking with fear again. Kate cuddled me and I calmed a little. "Not surprising Sir, that was a harsh punishment for a woman to take." "She committed a similar crime to you so, in all fairness, she had to have the same punishment. You know we try to keep things equal for boys and girls in this establishment." "That doesn't take...

The Fat Lady and the Nun

I stood in the shower the next morning, hard as a rock, stroking myself thinking about the blubber monster’s asshole and how she squeezed my cock to a ball-wrenching orgasm. I wondered what sick sexual punishment I was going to receive at the hands of this mysterious “Betty.” I drove to the fat lady’s apartment as instructed at about 10, and saw the behemoth pouring herself into their car. “About fucking time you got here,” she said as I walked over to them. “Get in. We’ve got something a...

Fetish

A Housewifes Memoirs Part One

"Hello, Mrs. Patterson. Please sit down. May I call you Laura?” he politely asked. She just smiled without objecting."We're so glad you came in for an interview today, Laura. You should know that it is important that if you choose to work here, you need to be totally satisfied with us as we are of hiring you. It's a two way street, if you see what I mean."Laura nodded as if she knew what he meant. "Of course, Mr. Stellers," she said. "It's like working at Walmart where they call the hired help...

Wife Lovers

A young novice nun

Angela wasn’t even allowed to call herself a sister – not technically speaking. At sixteen she was only in her second year of the novitiate, a trainee nun who had to bob her head to the full-fledged sisters when she met them in the corridors of the convent or when they entered the classroom at the start of a lesson. If she thought of herself as Sister Angela, it was because her vocation to the order was so strong and certain within her, and she was so completely sure that when she...

SOFI ndash THE NAKED NUN

INTRODUCTION:Now essentially naked, I stood before the bamboo gate to the nun’s compound. I wasn’t sure how long I have been here, but I was sure it was at least several hours. It wasn’t that I was being ignored. To the contrary. Upon my arrival, I rang the large bell attached to the side of the gate’s archway support. An older nun exited the building inside and spoke to me through the gate. This nun was nearly naked except for her veil, sandals on her feet, a very thin, nearly sheer, white...

JOKE Tricking a nun

A hippie gets onto a bus and sits next to a nun in the front seat. The hippie looks over and asks the nun if she would have sex with him. The nun, surprised by the question, politely declines and gets off at the next stop. When the bus starts again, the bus driver says to the hippie, "If you want, I can tell you how you can get that nun to have sex with you." The hippie of course says that he'd love to know, so the bus driver tells him that every Tuesday evening at midnight the nun goes to the...

The Nun

I was a nun for 12 years before I finally left and discovered my true self -- my true sexual self. I was raised Catholic and pushed into religious life from a young age by my strict Catholic parents. I went to Mass and attended parochial schools my whole life. I never had a real date -- only a quick kiss from a boy after he walked me home from a dance -- a 15 second peck on the lips, no tongue. By the time I graduated from St. Margaret's H.S. Academy, it was pretty well decided I'd become a...

Incredible Sex With A Nun

Hi dear ISS voracious readers, This is my first sex story I am gonna present u, not my first sex…lol… I am a doctor, my name is shoban babu, 29 years, well built, muscular, fair complexion boy, I am from Tamilnadu, Salem district, this Is a real story, while I was pursuing a job in Bangalore private hospital, it is a Christian institution… I worked in medicine department, on the first day of joining I visited the medical department HOD, asst professors and staffs in the ward and finally went...

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 4 Threes Company

This is a continuation of the series ‘Memoirs of a Bisexual.’ I recommend reading the first 3 installments to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. Thanksgiving break came and went. Jeff and I never really spoke about that night at his parents’ house, but it wasn’t awkward between us, either. We acted like we always did, like best friends. We never had the opportunity to do it again, but I know it was on our minds. At least mine, anyway. So back to school we went. I got back...

Memoirs of the Kosmetics Killer Entry 6 and 7 Final

I was rather guilt ridden for a while after what I did to my pretty young and unsuspecting step niece. For a while, I tried to stop having dark thoughts about beautiful dead women but in the end, I could not control my lust. Two months after my step niece was drowned, I began to notice a very beautiful teacher working in a school nearby. She was beautiful in every way , sexy and graceful. She always dressed in a proper yet sexy manner which fuelled my desire for her all the more. For several...

Memoirs of long ago

Memoirs of a past that had some great times in it, this is a true story that happened to me in the early 1970s so I am showing my age now. I married young, just 19 and my wife was 17, we married as was the standard of the time, because she was pregnant, a man did not run away like they do today, he stayed and faced his responsibilities. I was already working for a large department of government and held a secure position so income to support us was not a problem and by the time I was 21 had...

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 8 Another Chocolate Chip in the Cookie

This is a continuation of the series ‘Memoirs of a Bisexual.’ I recommend reading chapters 1-7 to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. Chapter 8 Spring Break was upon us and I was temporarily living with Felecia. Something happened with the plumbing in the bathroom of my apartment and the maintenance people had to tear into some walls to fix it. So instead of sharing the other bathroom with my two roommates, Felecia said I could stay with her until everything was fixed. She...

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 3 What a Long Strange Trip Its Been

This is the 3rd installment of the series“Memoirs of a Bisexual.” I recommend reading the first 2 chapters to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline of the story. This story is based on true events. Thanksgiving break was finally here. I was home from school for a week and I couldn’t wait to hang out with my best friend, Jeff. He had been looking forward to us hanging out, as well. He had surprised me with tickets to see the Pink Floyd laser show and 2 hits of LSD! Wow! What a...

Memoirs Of A Bisexual Chapter 2 Cunnulingus and Pink Floyd

This is the 2nd installment of the series, “Memoirs of a Bisexual.’ I recommend reading Chapter 1 “The Sexual Revolution” to get up to speed with Chapter 2, which is the immediate continuation of the story. The next morning we all woke up in a rush. Layla and Amanda were freaking out because they were late for class. So there was no mention of the wild night before. Just rush, rush, rush. In fact, there was not much talking at all. Jeff and I dropped the girls off at their dorm then decided...

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 7 An Unexpected Surprise

This is a continuation of the series ‘Memoirs of a Bisexual.’ I recommend reading chapters 1-6 to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. The following is based on true events. I returned to school from Winter Break a few days before classes started. I always like to get there a few days before the start of a new quarter so I can learn where my new classes are and plan my route through campus. The University of Georgia is a big campus, so the more I know on the first day of...

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 5 Fuck Buddies

I recommend reading ‘Memoirs of a Bisexual: Chapters 1-4’ to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. This story is based on true events. Fuck Buddy: n. A sex partner to whom you have no special attachment. A person you occasionally have sex with who is not your significant other. Chapter 5: It was about noon when Felecia came knocking on the door. She gave her signature 2 knocks, then walked right in. I just got back from an 8am class and was cleaning up the kitchen. ‘Hey,...

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 6 No Holes Barred

This is a continuation of the series ‘Memoirs of a Bisexual.’ I recommend reading chapters 1-5 to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. The following story is based on true events. Chapter 6: Winter Break started and we were off from school for almost a month. Felecia went home to Louisiana for the holidays. I went back to my hometown and got a part time job bartending at a local restaurant. I needed the extra money for Christmas. I was excited because Jeff had lined up an...

A Housewifes Memoirs Part Two

My husband has been in Europe for the last month on business, so for me it's been a busy time here at home. I haven't been able to get back to my computer until now, although I've been pretty active in the bedroom.I've been with Ricky, Tom, Frank, Stan, Jack, Edyth, and Maurice. They were mostly ordinary clients, nothing special. Stan wanted to talk about his new business more than he wanted sex. Tom was from out of town and had the impression an escort would show him around town. I told him I...

Cheating

Memoirs of an Evil Genius

(Author's note: Remember to customise your name if you don't want everyone to call you John Doe) (Moderator's note: Please feel free to add chapters to any threads. I'm pretty easygoing when it comes to moderation) As the future ruler of the world it behooves me, John Doe, to write these memoirs of my inevitable rise to power so that those who follow might know the unsurpassed genius of your benevolent lord and master. I therefore begin these notes on the eve of my first test of the device that...

Memoirs of a Mad Scientist

It had started as soon as Watson and Crick discovered the first accurate model of DNA in 1953. The idea of genetically engineering new and different creatures had filled… certain members of the human condition with wonderful and strange ideas. It was simple. We wanted to play God. Of course, we could only do so much on our own. Funding scientists through small shell companies, we hastened the completion of the Human Genome Project, completed in 2003, and, to be honest, stole a lot of...

Memoirs Chapter Five

The first year, Mr. and Mrs. Dogmeyer couldn't keep their hands off each other. It was sex morning, noon and night. On a late December morning, I was out shoveling the driveway. It had snowed heavily the night before. I had to get to work before noon to interview a college girl who was looking for work. We had a lot of turnover at the restaurants because most of our wait staff was college kids. There was always somebody applying for work. Finished with the driveway, I walked into the kitchen...

Group Sex

Memoirs Chapter Four

Emma was pregnant. I thought it was mine. Emma's pregnancy was the third shoe to drop after losing Molly, my girlfriend, and losing my job. Molly never found out about me and Emma. If she had, we would have parted much earlier. Emma was one of the college girls I had photographed before Molly and I split. Molly dumped me because Deede couldn't keep her mouth shut about our little "dalliance," as Molly put it. Emma, however, did keep our secret and just wanted to feel whole again. Emma meant...

Straight Sex

Memoirs Chapter Three

During the first few months back home in Bloomington, I sailed in uncharted waters. I had no clear direction and spent the days aimlessly trying to find a clear path in life. Civilian life was a struggle. I was accustomed to being scheduled and told what to do in the army. Now I had to find my own way. Jack, the wheeler and dealer, had sold me a fancy Leica camera back in German. It was such a great bargain, I bought it but had no idea how to use it. The camera seemed to me to be a nice...

Straight Sex

Memoirs Chapter Two

I had another year of active duty to serve in the Army after returning from Germany. As I said, it was my winter of discontent. I missed Hilda so much I fell into fits of deep depression. I couldn't even think of being with another woman, at least at first. My job as a chef in the army made me the butt of good natured jokes around the barracks. "Hey, Cookie," they'd say, "When are you gonna serve us a real meal instead that crap you call food?" I'd smile and ask if they were referring to our...

Straight Sex

Tales from the Salacious Memoirs The Old Gal

As always, a true story from my salacious memoirs. This one is from the early '00s. Enjoy!I met Carla online several years ago in an AOL chatroom for locals that was hosted by another friend of mine for whom I'd done many computer repairs. Carla had asked some computer-related questions in the room and as the room's resident IT guru I chimed in to answer them. We eventually began chatting one-on-one after 30 minutes or so in order to keep from monopolizing the group chat. She told me she was 56...

Memoirs of long ago

Memoirs of a past that had some great times in it, this is a true story that happened to me in the early 1970s so I am showing my age now.I married young, just 19 and my wife was 17, we married as was the standard of the time, because she was pregnant, a man did not run away like they do today, he stayed and faced his responsibilities.I was already working for a large department of government and held a secure position so income to support us was not a problem and by the time I was 21 had...

MANDYrsquoS STORY Memoirs of a TV slut

MANDY’S STORY(Memoirs of a T.V. slut) Introduction Chapter 1 -Early feelings. Chapter 2 -Evenings in and nights out. Chapter 3 -A slut in the making. Chapter 4 -Bizarre encounters. Chapter 5 -The Club. Chapter 6 -A working holiday in Amsterdam. (Fantasy) Chapter 7 -A video star is born. (Fantasy) Chapter 8 -Out in the wilds with Uncle John.INTRODUCTIONMy name is Mandy. I’m a transvestite with a bit of a tale to tell. In fact I’ve had so many adventures had I’ve decided to share them with...

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 10 Cumming Full Circle

Chapter 10 It was the end of the school year. It was a Wednesday and Jeff was already coming up that night for the weekend parties. There was one more day of exams, but Felecia and I were finished for the summer. Jeff had wrapped up the previous week at his school. It was about ten in the morning and Jeff wouldn't arrive until around three or four in the afternoon. I was bored so I picked up the phone and called Felecia to see what she was up to. The phone rang a few times, then she finally...

Bisexual

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 8 Another Chocolate Chip in the Cookie

This is a continuation of the series "Memoirs of a Bisexual." I recommend reading chapters 1-7 to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. Chapter 8 Spring Break was upon us and I was temporarily living with Felecia. Something happened with the plumbing in the bathroom of my apartment and the maintenance people had to tear into some walls to fix it. So instead of sharing the other bathroom with my two roommates, Felecia said I could stay with her until everything was fixed. She is...

Group Sex

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 7 An Unexpected Surprise

This is a continuation of the series "Memoirs of a Bisexual." I recommend reading chapters 1-6 to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. The following is based on true events.I returned to school from Winter Break a few days before classes started. I always like to get there a few days before the start of a new quarter so I can learn where my new classes are and plan my route through campus. The University of Georgia is a big campus, so the more I know on the first day of...

Bisexual

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 6 No Holes Barred

This is a continuation of the series "Memoirs of a Bisexual." I recommend reading chapters 1-5 to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. The following story is based on true events.Chapter 6: Winter Break started and we were off from school for almost a month. Felecia went home to Louisiana for the holidays. I went back to my hometown and got a part time job bartending at a local restaurant. I needed the extra money for Christmas. I was excited because Jeff had lined up an...

Bisexual

Memoirs of a Bisexual Chapter 5 Fuck Buddies

I recommend reading "Memoirs of a Bisexual: Chapters 1-4" to familiarize yourself with the characters and timeline. This story is based on true events. Fuck Buddy: n. A sex partner to whom you have no special attachment. A person you occasionally have sex with who is not your significant other. Chapter 5: It was about noon when Felecia came knocking on the door. She gave her signature 2 knocks, then walked right in. I just got back from an 8am class and was cleaning up the kitchen. "Hey,...

Bisexual

Rachel moments memoirs of my cousin sister Part 1

Rachel moments: memoirs of my cousin sister Part 1Rachel – my best friend, my confidante, my cousin sister. Rachel and I were born 4 months apart, and we grew up together – spending some of our most pivotal moments together. When we were young enough so we were still close, but not so young that I don’t remember those times – Rachel was the first sexual experience I had. We were sitting in the Jacuzzi together when Rachel got out to shower. I continued sitting when to my surprise, Rachel got...

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