Epilogue - Back in the convent

You eventually make it back to the convent. The other sisters were terribly worried about you and were so sorry they had left without you. They asked what the stains were but your said somebody accidentally spilled something over you, which was a permutation on the truth. However soon life slipped back to the normal routine of prayer, charity and devotion.

The next time you sat in the confessional booth the Bishop was taking confessions and you pulled up the resolve to tell him your sinful acts. You explained it, he wanted to know exactly what had happened and down to minute details. Retelling the story, saying how their fingers felt, how their manhoods penetrated you and the salty taste of their semen. It stirred up feelings like it did when you were there. Hot, sinful sensations.

The Bishop seemed to be so shocked by your confession he spent the latter half of it groaning and grunting, you are sure that it was just because you were thinking about it but the sounds were reminiscent of the sounds the men made whilst in the booth.

When you got back to your cell you couldn't get the feelings to uncoil from you and in a moment of weakness you let your own fingers try to satisfy yourself. And with practice you soon found yourself in joyful bliss. You confessed to the Bishop again, and he wanted to know what happened again, even asking your to describe the time in that horrid booth again. Each time the thoughts making you hotter and hotter. The confessions taking longer and longer.

When routinely cooking a handle broke from a pan. The handle was thick, stout and wooden and you only put the pan in the bin and hid the handle in your cell, using it to simulate the sensation of a man inside you. The Bishop was quite keen to hear about how your use the handle on yourself and what sinful thoughts run through your mind as you 'fuck' yourself.

A dozen or so confessions in, with them getting closer together and sometimes taking up to an hour you couldn't help yourself. Your fingers pressing against your 'pussy' through your skirts. Dragging them up your legs and toying with your own holes as you described the feeling of having a man spurt his load into your mouth. How disgusting and degrading it was, how terrible and sinful. You came so hard in the booth you're surprised the Bishop didn't say anything.

So every week you go into the booth. Every week you recant your terrible sins. Every week you furiously masturbate whilst whilst giving your own 'Gloryhole confession.'

Fin