Spanking In The Convent: Strict Nun Spanks Naughty Novice
Summary:
Novice Magdalena is sitting at the window in St. Mary’s Convent instead of doing her work. Mother Superior Agnes catches her, takes her to a small cell, lays her across her knee, and spanks her bare bottom until it glows bright red.
Sexy Novice Sits At The Window And Daydreams
The bell for morning prayers had long since faded, and St. Mary’s Convent had settled into its strict, rhythmic daily routine.
In the long main corridor, two older sisters scraped their brooms over the stone floor while, from the kitchen, the dull clatter of pewter cups could be heard. Outside, the fog hung heavy over the snow-covered garden, and pale winter light streamed through the high windows.
Mother Superior Agnes walked at a measured pace along the open arcade. Beneath her black wool habit, not a single fold moved out of place. In her right hand, she held the heavy rosary, occasionally letting it slide quietly between her fingers.
At the far end of the corridor, in the niche by the tall windows, sat Magdalena—the youngest novice in the house, 21 years old. Loose golden strands peeked from beneath her white veil.
Her hands rested in her lap, her feet crossed carelessly as she gazed out at the snow-covered apple trees. The work she was meant to be doing—scrubbing the washroom—lay completely neglected.
Sister Ruth, sweeping the floor nearby, cast her a disapproving glance. “You know the Mother Superior mustn’t see you like this,” she hissed as she passed.
“Just for a moment,” Magdalena whispered back, not taking her eyes off the garden. She was daydreaming of the boy from the neighboring farm she’d glimpsed weeks ago—in her mind, he was standing out there now, shirt open, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Novice Magdalena.” The Mother Superior’s voice cut into her thoughts like a sharp knife.
Magdalena startled, leapt from the sill, and quickly curtsied. “Mother Superior… I… I was only—”
“Silence.” Agnes’s step was quiet, but the faint rasp of wool announced her approach. She stopped in front of the girl, looking her up and down with stern eyes. “For weeks I have warned you to approach your duties with humility and diligence. Yet you drift like a loose leaf in the wind.”
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Magdalena dropped her gaze, biting her lower lip. Her fingers fidgeted at the hem of her coarse linen apron.
Agnes’s voice dropped lower still. “It seems a clear, painful reminder of obedience is needed.” She turned slightly and made a brief hand gesture toward the small cell nearby. “Come.”
Strict Nun Takes Novice Into The Cell
Magdalena’s heart thudded, but she obeyed. Her steps echoed dully on the cold stone floor as Sister Ruth watched from the corner of her eye. It was a silent, private triumph for the older nun, who had long claimed that Magdalena had too much imagination and too little discipline.
The cell lay apart, behind a heavy wooden door. Inside, there was only a plain wooden table, a stool, and a narrow bed. The only light came from a small round window, casting a dim patch onto the floor.
Agnes closed the door behind them slowly, almost ceremoniously. “Remove your apron.” Her tone allowed no argument.
Hesitating, Magdalena untied the coarse linen apron and laid it folded on the bed. Beneath it she wore the simple grey underdress of thick linen, stiff with every movement.
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Agnes sat on the stool. “Here.” Magdalena took a small step closer, her feet reluctant.
“Now, child.” Agnes seized her wrist and firmly drew her between her knees. In one smooth movement, she bent Magdalena over her lap so that her upper body hung down on one side and her legs on the other.
The coarse fabric of the habit scratched Magdalena’s cheek; her breath misted against the dark wool.
“We shall see if your stubbornness holds when your seat is aflame,” Agnes said softly, almost reverently.
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Spanking In The Convent: Nun Lowers Cheeky Lady’s Underpants
With both hands, the Mother Superior took hold of the hem of the grey underdress and slowly pushed it up over Magdalena’s hips. Cold air swept over the novice’s pale thighs.
Beneath came plain white linen drawers, loosely tied at the back. With a quick pull, Agnes untied the strings. The linen slackened and slipped down to Magdalena’s knees.
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Two pale, round cheeks now lay bare in the light from the small window. Agnes ran her palm over the smooth skin, testing, almost like a craftswoman inspecting a tool before use. Magdalena wriggled and let out a small, shamed sound.
“Be still.” Agnes placed her left hand firmly on the girl’s back, holding her down securely.
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Mother Superior Spanks Young Woman’s Bare Bottom
Then she raised her right hand and brought the first sharp smack down onto the right cheek. The sharp sound cracked through the small cell.
Magdalena jerked, her feet thudding against the floor. Before she could catch her breath, the next smack landed on the left cheek.
Agnes kept a steady rhythm—smack, smack, smack—her palm striking skin firmly and without mercy. The once-pale flesh quickly turned rosy, then a deeper red.
Magdalena clenched her teeth, but after a dozen blows, a short cry escaped her. The heat spread, each strike pressing her further into the Mother Superior’s lap.
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“Kicking at me, child?” Agnes tightened her grip, locking Magdalena’s waist as her hand fell again and again—smack, smack, smack—alternating left, right, with occasional double blows to the same spot that left a burning ache behind.
Magdalena’s legs kicked helplessly, the white linen around her knees fluttering. Her hips lifted instinctively, only to be pressed firmly back down.
“This is the discipline a defiant novice requires,” Agnes murmured, more to herself than to the girl. Her hand did not tire until Magdalena’s entire bottom glowed a deep red, like embers beneath the muted daylight.
Cheeky Girl Works With Her Bottom Burning
When at last she stopped, Magdalena lay breathless, fingers clutching the leg of the stool. Agnes ran her palm over the hot cheeks, inspecting her work. “So. Let this remain with you when you feel like dreaming instead of working.”
Slowly she let the underdress fall back into place, pulled up the loose drawers, and tied them. Then she helped Magdalena to her feet. The girl stood unsteady, cheeks flushed—not only on her face.
“Go now to the washroom. And if I find you dreaming at the window again…” Agnes left the sentence hanging, but the look in Magdalena’s eyes showed the message was understood.
Magdalena curtsied deeply, murmured a hoarse “Yes, Mother Superior,” and left, the burning under her clothing like an indelible seal.
In the washroom, she knelt immediately to her work. The cold water in the wooden tub sloshed as she dipped the coarse scrubbing brush. Each time she bent forward, the fabric of her drawers stretched over her sore bottom, making it throb like fresh coals.
Twice Sister Ruth came by, pausing to glance at Magdalena’s lowered head in silence. The third time, Ruth bent down and whispered, “Have you learned that dreaming has no place in here?”
Magdalena dared not look up. “Yes, Sister.”
“Good. Then scrub on.” Ruth walked away, leaving only the rasp of the brush on the stone floor and the steady, insistent throb beneath Magdalena’s underdress.
That day, the window in the corridor was nothing but a grey shadow to her. The garden remained empty—and the memory of Agnes’s hand stayed warm, burning, and inescapable.
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