The Good Girl

It was September 5th, the first day of her senior year, 5 am. Morgana Felicity Avingone, or Morgan for short, had turned 18 just a week earlier and awoke in a drowsy state that normally accompanies 5am. It was still warm out and as she stretched attempting to open her eyes to greet the morning sun, her pajamas pulled against her supple young body. She smiled, knowing what day it was and turning off the alarm that she so gently arose to. It was time for a quick swim before school. It always woke her up that much quicker.

Morgan was the single daughter of Michael and Mary Avingone, a French/Mediterranean descent 3rd generation American family, whom were of old money, and made lucky choices in the stocks for placing their money. She had slipped out of her bed, pajamas and into her suit quickly, sliding down to the fitness level of the dormitory. Her fitting one piece bathing suit showed off her body well, and rubbed lightly under her knee length robe, it was the tightest piece of clothing that she had. It was always a little cooler in the dorms at night, the headmistress saw to that, keeping the dorms well maintained with an expensive environmental system. No matter what time of year it was it was always 63 degrees at night and 72 degrees during the day. Morgan's parents were well to do in the community and in life, and had sent her away to the same boarding school her mother had attended, which happened to be located in northern New Jersey. As her classmates slept in their beds ticking off the few more moments they had until their own alarms would go off, Morgan quietly crept past them down the stairs to the pool outside. She always said a little prayer of thanks for being there as she past them.

100 quick laps before she had to be at morning service and meal. Morgan loved to swim, almost as much as she loved to pray. Her parents had seen to her having a good fitness program every day of her life since she started swimming back when she was 4 years old. They also saw to her modesty, morals and beliefs to be in line with the highest catholic standards; Questioningly tolerant, silently bigotus, and unquestioningly modest. They were reinforced by her daily services at boarding school, only to be refreshed by Morgan's own resolve. She dove into the water as she does every morning thinking to herself the Hail Mary.

She would repeat the Hail Mary and the Lord's Prayer every morning and had done so since she first discovered her body. Morgan was both prideful of her looks and ashamed of the lust that escaped from between her legs every night. Like clockwork, since she was old enough to realize she was female, she masturbated nightly, woke every morning at 5am and swam her repentance for the previous night's sin. Every night she would succumb to her body's lust, dipping her fingers past the point of no return that was the elastic of her waist band, past the forest of her dark mound of pussy hair, and diving into the burning, soaked flesh that was her pussy. Morgan tried as she could to quell the scorpion of her sex, but every night when she was alone it would return to torment her to sleep. So ashamed of herself, she would always bite the pillows, her tongue, her lip anything she could find, to stiffel her moans from her roommate, as she could never let it escape that her closeness to god was tainted by the sin of lust.

Each stroke in the morning, the water's caress against her skin, as she prayed into her blue confessional, would remind her of how she fell into the devil's grip the night before. As soon as she would close the door to her small room, she would pull at the firm nipples atop her full heaving breasts, caress her soft taught skin, and bite at her tongue to stifle her whorish moans. Morgan pushed faster into the water, as she felt herself being turned on yet again by the thoughts that coursed through her mind. Screaming into the water "Hail MARY FULL OF GRACE...*gasp*... THE LORD IS WITH YOU...*gasp*... BLESSED ART THOU..." but it went on like this until she began to loose count of her strokes, her laps, even the time she spent in the water. Her thoughts were torn between the pleasure she gave herself and her self-inflicted modesty. Night after night she would wet the sheets of her bed by orgasming over and over again until her lust was satiated by exhaustion, fingering her flaming cunt for two sometimes three hours a night, and spending the morning in repentance with her the pool and God.

"GIVE US THIS DAY... ooohhhhhhhh...." She moaned as she came, the water's fast flow stimulating her clit just enough despite the bathing suit and thick hair that surrounded her denied sex. She tried to catch her breath but the waves of pleasure were washing against her as her own current caught up to her and washed against her back.

"Morgan, don't be late for early bell now it's nearly 6am, you still got to eat breakfast!" "Thanks Delilah, I'm done now..." Morgan hadn't noticed that she had swam nearly 3 kilometers this morning in her feverent rush. Pulling herself out of the pool, her toned legs carried her well back up to her room where she showered and put on her uniform for school. The sounds of alarms had invaded the stone walls to her room as he pulled up the white cotton panties over her still burning pussy, trying desperately to ignore it's cries to be touched. The broad fabric C cups of her bra pulled her breasts tightly back against her chest, pushing her erect nipples back into her own soft flesh. Firm and taut, it slightly pained her every time she put the bra on, but pain she felt was just a part of her redemption. Over that her blouse and stockings came, covering more of her shapely body, so young and already so fit. Next came the long skirt and penny loafer shoes. She particularly liked the skirt, and prided herself for how long and thick the material was, every year she sought the longest heaviest material, and even one year lengthened her skirt to cover up her legs. It always came past down to the mid calf, and unruffled it was nearly a full meter and a half of material. It hid her figure well. As Morgan sat before her mirror braiding her long dark hair back into it's familiar thick ponytail, she smiled at herself, smiling at her modest appearance and her lack of need for makeup. Her morning routine had finally calmed the familiar cries of sexual gratification she so scorned in her life, and she happily came down the stairs to the kitchen where mother superior and the other girls were finishing breakfast.

"You did it again didn't you Morgan?"

"Shush you, I won't dare speak of it."

"Oh I heard you last night..."

"Delilah, you didn't!" Morgan exclaimed, blessing herself with the sign of the cross as she began to dive herself back into prayer.

"Oh will you stop it morgan, I didn't hear anything. I don't know what it is your hiding, but whatever it is I hope it's worth all the praying and laps in the pool."

"Now that's just not nice, you know I like my privacy." Morgan looked up at her friend with disdain. To everyone observing it was directed towards her friend's petty joke. To Morgan it was directed to a more local target.

"I know I know." Delilah had taken a quick bite of her dry toast and smiled towards her best friend. Delilah and Morgan had met only when each had come to stay at the boarding school. They were the best of friends, but you could never have more polar opposites. Delilah's short red hair always had too much product in it, enough to impale small birds and insects, which found attraction in the chemically induced sweet scent. Despite the myriad of punishments and penances that Delilah had to undergo, she still was a wild child at heart. Speaking her mind about all sorts of subjects, openly questioning the doctrine of the church; the Headmistress thought it would be a good idea to have her room with the most devout of young ladies, and thus Morgan and Delilah became good friends.

It would be their influence on one another that would change their lives forever.

"So I'm sneaking out tonight and I want you to come."

"Delilah, No! You know we aren't allowed out of the dorms without a chaperone."

"Yeah but this time I've got a full proof plan, we will be back before anyone notices."

"We can't sneak out after 10pm bed check, that's just lying."

"Oh so you are a quick one aren't you, and here I was thinking you didn't have a mind for this sort of thing."

"Delilah, stop it. I won't go through with it." One of the nuns walked by with her watchful eye gazing over the two young ladies, Delilah smiled and curtsied a bit in her seat. She loved so to incite the suspicions of the women she called their 'captures.'

"Listen, it's for our own good, how can we know what the true path of God is if we don't try a little bit of everything."

"Because it's wrong, Delilah, and doing bad things leads to a life of sin and away from God."

"But, God gave us free will didn't he?"

"Yes," Morgan felt her friend was right, but sipped her unsweetened black tea with closed eyes.

"And it's God's will to exercise that free will, right?"

"Yes..., what's your point."

"My point is that it's not much of a free willed choice if we don't know all the choices we have."

"I'm not breaking any rules though, the semester just started." Morgan and Delilah sat in silence for a few moments, as Priest Joseph Guarda, a traveling missionary from a third world country approached the pulpit, to welcome the students to a new year of school

"I didn't want to have to do this to you, but you leave me no choice then." Delilah leaned in closer to her friend, her warm breath washing over Morgan's ear. Everyone else had already stood up, at the request of Priest Guarda, but as Morgan attempted to rise with her fellow students a soft hand from her best friend landed on her thigh pinning her to the seat.

"If you don't I'll tell the head mistress that you've been ever so distressed every night that you lock yourself up and don't come out till morning."

Morgan could feel her pussy soak right into her panties, a wetness that wouldn't fade during the day unless she took action soon. She secretly cursed herself but knew she had to give in, and get away from Delilah soon. The hand on her thigh felt so wrong, her confusions came rushing back to her, and she panicked for a way to stop the ocean of lust that was being guided by doubt's controlling staff. "Alright... I'll do it... but if we get in trouble I'm going to say you threatened me, and so help me we won't be friends any more... " Morgan bit her lip, and Delilah knew that all it ever took to get Morgan past her doubts was just the slightest little touch.

The two quickly stood and joined the rest of the congregation in the Lord's Prayer.

***

As soon as the morning meal's prayer was finished, Morgan quickly stole away from everyone else and locked herself I the bathroom. Her cunt was burning with desire, and she knew she wouldn't be able to get through the day. Hiking up the heavy material of her skirt, and not even wasting the time to sit nor pull her panties down neatly, she thrust the material aside and shoved three fingers past the fur that surrounded her twat. Fingering herself furiously, her young deft hands had not taken the time to find their way to her clit, but instead were pistoning in and out of her throbbing hole, the hair around her pussy matted with the wetness from the initial gush.

Morgan's teeth were pressing into her tongue this time, she needed pain to stifle the moans. She bit fairly hard, trying to keep herself from giving in completely to her lust. Her fingers were soaked, and the small puddle beneath her spread legs as she held herself up on the wall of the bathroom stall was growing. Each drop, fell away from her as did her resolve. A tear ran down her cheek as she could hear herself release throaty whorish moans, her fingers moving rapidly within her milking her cunt for all the sex it could deliver. She looked up at the florescent light in the ceiling, throwing herself into the pain of her lips and the stretching that her fingers so roughly forced into her caused.

Her eyes welled with tears as she thanked God for her orgasm, expanding the puddle at her feet and soaking her socks down to her penny loafers as her wetness trailed down her leggings. Then she cursed herself and begged for forgiveness as she fell upon her knees, knowing she had succumbed to the lust yet again. The heavy cotton of her skirt sopped up some of the cum she had just covered the floor in and her hands did nothing but direct the tears from her eyes to her blouse. Pulling her hands away from her sobbing eyes she realized her fingers were covered in blood and the tears began again.

"I'm nothing more than a heathen." She sobbed to herself in the mirror trying to wash the red spots away from her hands, tears mixing with the water washing her sins away.

It was around this time that the Gym Teacher, a Miss Argento, whom everyone called Miss A for short had overheard the sobbing coming from the wash room. It was about an hour before her first class of the day, and Miss A had plenty of time before she needed to be there, so she investigated. Miss A opened the door to see Morgan frantically washing her hands in the sink, seeing the last remnants of red wash down the drain.

"Is everything ok, Morgan?"

"Everything is just fine Coach A. I just had a little cut that's all."

"Well let me see, I can't have my star swimmer injured now, or out of the lists at the beginning of the season because of an infection." Morgan thought about it and wiped her face again, raising her right hand to her coach's eye level. "See it's already closed up, it was just a little scratch."

"That was a lot of blood to be just a little scratch." Miss A, knew Morgan's body well, she had made sure to keep it in top shape for four years. She looked over the hand and held it up with a little smile, knowing that something was still amiss. As Morgan took her hand back, Miss A noticed the small puddle on the floor and the red that seemed mixed with the clear liquid, "Are you having womanly issues."

"Yes, that's it Coach A, you caught me." Morgan tried to smile, which wasn't too had since her coach just gave her the excuse she needed to hide her secret. "My period just started, and I wasn't ready for it, I kinda freaked out. You know I hate the sight of blood."

"Well, if you don't have a pad come by my office and I'll be more than happy to give you one, ok, I'll let you finish up here and I'll let maintenance know they need to clean the floor. Nothing to worry about, it's not a Cardinal Sin to have a little loss of self control sometimes."

"Ok, Coach, but I've got plenty back at my dorm. Thank, you." Morgan punctuated it with a smile, trying to hide her shame at nearly being caught. As Miss A left the room, Morgan had already begun chastising herself, cursing her vagina, and wishing she hadn't been born. It was like this almost every day. As soon as she was turned on, even in the slightest she would have to run away to the bathroom or somewhere private and get it back under control. She hated herself for it and continued to curse herself as she snuck back to her dorm room, trying to keep from the noticing eye of her class mates.

"Dammit, Dammit, DAMMIT" She spoke aloud sitting at her desk in the room. She locked herself back in the tiny bedroom and removed her soiled clothes. Sitting naked on her bed she began to sob once more. Morgan felt she hadn't been punished enough, and that Miss A's near discovery of her secret was a sign from God that she was too careless again. She had to be punished once more, or the demon may escape again. She slowly opened the drawer of her night table, and removed a 15 inch, metric and standard, old wooden ruler. She held it in her hands as an Athame to a Priestess, for it held just as much power.

Whenever Morgan slipped up, or was almost discovered, she felt she needed to be punished, corporally. She always felt it was in addition to the penance she served every morning, the good grades she fought so hard for, and her skill at swimming, all things she did to serve God better. Delilah's teasing earlier that morning had already made her consider the additional punishment, but Miss A's intrusion closed the deal. "Ten swats, for my weakness."

Stripping back to the nude, she released her breasts from their prison, and stood wearing only the dark hair on her head, still back behind her in a long thick pony tail, the hair over her vagina, the leggings over her mid thigh, and the penny loafers at her feet. Morgan made sure to lock the door, and sat on the edge of her bed, spreading her thighs wide. She had found a small bundled pair of socks and placed it between her teeth as she looked at herself in the mirror across from her bed and then up to the crucifix over that. The first swat of the ruler came down across her thigh.

"One, forgive me God." She moaned into the sock, tears welling up in her eyes once more, as she had felt her breasts and pussy swell with the sight of her own naked body. The pain flooded out from the strike to her thigh, and she knew the redness would dissipate by the time she had practice that evening.

"TWO, forgive me God." The next swat came again, and she stared at her body, ashamed of her lack of control as she watched her pussy flood the sheets beneath her again. The thick bush from before beginning to show signs of catching the fluid that flowed from the lips between her legs.

"Three, Forgive me God." Another moan and another flood, two swats to either thigh, and now a swat to her near perfect left breast. The pain radiating out, cleared her mind of the lust, as her nipples were straining against her chest, they were so hard.

"Four, forgive Me God." She slapped the long ruler to her other breast, breathing heavily now, as her pulse rocketed up another notch. Her focus was intense and she thought the look of herself in the mirror was begging for the lust to leave her. Morgan didn't realize her eyes were begging for the next swat.

Her gaze broke with it'self as her eyes rolled back into her head, moaning into the sock gag, "Five, forgive me LORD." The latest attack was against her taut abs, as her pussy soaked and her heavy breaths drew her nipples against the cool air of the tiny bedroom. The crisp forced air was a gentle caress against her engorged tits, as the next swat came down across her clit, sending Morgan into a pain spiral, her mind mixing all of her thoughts into one pleasurable moment that streaked tears from her eyes, moans from her throat, and a forceful gush from her sex.

"Six, FORGIVE ME LORD!" She finally mustered past her tears as she dropped the gag from her mouth and drew deeply into her breath. Her holy relic, came down across her clit once again. So distressed from her deep rooted confusion, Morgan slid to her knees before the mirror, looking at the whore that lived within her body. Morgan couldn't have possibly realized that with each slap of the ruler she wasn't exorcising the harlot demon she thought she was, she was bringing herself to orgasm each time. The carpet, bed sheets, shower stalls, toilet bowls, and serenely clean water of the pool, had always taken pity upon her and hid well the evidence of her body's pleasure at her pain.

Incoherently, she continued to orgasm, taking every last ounce of her will to stifle the moans that escaped her throat. Morgan kept them held within her cheeks, as the tears reached her swelling breasts, red from the onslaught, just passing by on their way to her thighs, which of course were still sensitive to the touch from their chastisement. Ten, forceful orgasms in quick succession, and her body could take no more, she felt her sex satiated finally, and crawl away from her mind.

Catching her breath Morgan stood up and undid the ponytail, beginning to brush it out, as she glanced at the clock. "Fifteen minutes till class... I'd ... better get... ready..." She continued to pant as she brushed out the long dark hair that was wet with sweat. She picked up the ruler, lying dormant on the floor by the round wet patch of carpet where she had disciplined herself and re-placed it in the drawer, accompanied by only two other objects. A small black book and a silver and gold pen. She picked the two up, both were going away presents from her mother and father, for her to write down the experiences she had at Boarding school. Instead were a column for dates, a column for times, and a column for a number. Each in sequence one after the other. She flipped through the pages until she found the entry from only two weeks prior, and began to write beneath it.