Bride of Christ

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Claire’s parents had not really wanted her to enter the convent. They had not been blessed with other children and had hoped that at least she might marry a local boy and provide care for them in their old age. They carried on hoping for a long time but in their hearts they had known since she was eight years old and they found her found praying at the convent gates instead of gathering the eggs from their small holding on the edge of the forest that they had lost her. On her eighteenth birthday Claire left the small wooden hut for the last time and walked up the dusty path to the abbey gates. Her parents stood and watched their little girl go but she didn’t look back.

Most novitiates found convent life hard, at least at first, but Claire took to it like a duck to water. She was happy to feel hungry, cold and tired because that reminded her of Our Lord’s Passion and made her feel close to Him. Indeed at times the Mother Superior would make Claire sit down and eat a bowl of soup, or take a rest from the heaviest gardening work, for fear that she would go too far and cause herself to become seriously ill. After a while though, mortification of the flesh was not enough for Claire and she began to seek other ways to bring her truly close to Our Lord. After spending her days working hard on the land she would spend her nights on her knees in the church, praying that God would send her a sign of what she should do to please him more.

One particularly cold winter’s night Claire decided to forgo her supper with the other nuns and went straight to the abbey’s undercroft to begin her nightly prayer vigil. For days she had grown more and more troubled, feeling that she was being called to do something for Christ but did not know what. Lighting two candles and placing them at the foot of the crucifix, she knelt and prayed for God to speak to her and show her the way. At first she was aware of the cold in her bones and the hunger in her belly but as she prayed the almanbahis adresi fatigue and pain began to wash away. It was perhaps only minutes or possibly hours later when she was stirred from her fit of religious ecstasy by a sound. At first she was too transported to respond but it came again and again until she was forced to hear it. It was the sound of weeping.

Looking up in the direction of the sound, Claire saw two tears run down the Christ statue’s face. She stared, uncertain of what she had seen. Then the statue spoke.

‘Help me Claire’.

She rose from the cold stone floor and went towards the crucifix. Tentatively she reached out and put her hand on the statue’s foot. It was not chilled marble. It was warm flesh. ‘Oh, My Lord’ cried Claire, falling prostrate in front of her Saviour.

‘Come to me my child. Help me.’

Trembling, she rose and looked again into His face. There she saw what she must do.

Carefully, she bent to His feet and pulled on the nails driven through them. They slipped easily out of His flesh, followed by a trickle of blood. Claire put her lips to the wounds and gently licked the blood away. Next she reached high above her head and pulled out the nails in His hands, first one, then the other. He staggered slightly as she freed him from the cross and she caught Him in her arms. ‘Sweet Sister’, he murmured as his lips brushed against her face. Together, they sank to the floor. Claire barely knew what she was doing. She was at the height of her religious passion but also conscious of feeling a passion of quite a different kind. Seeing the blood on his forehead she leant forward and gently took the crown of thorns from his head. Again she kissed and licked his wounds until the blood was gone.

Claire looked into the eyes of the man sitting in front of her, her Saviour, and knew what God had been calling her to do. Christ was a man with a man’s needs. Had he not loved Mary of Magdalene almanbahis adres and made a child with her? Surely her calling was to see to her Lord’s physical needs as well as his spiritual ones.

She was afraid but happy. Grateful to be given this chance to serve. Trembling, she reached up and undid the wimple that tightly enclosed her face and head. Her long hair had all been cut off when she entered the nunnery but now it was a mass of soft curls around her face. In order to mortify the flesh and feel the cold winter air she wore nothing under her robe and it took only a second to reach down to the hem and pull it up over her head. Then she was naked in front of Him. Wordlessly He took her hand and pulled her down to the floor alongside Him. She had no experience whatsoever but felt she was being guided from without as she took His face in her hands and kissed Him. She felt a sharp spurt of fire shoot through her body as He kissed her back. She began to roam His body with her hands, running them down over his bare chest, gently caressing the wound in His side and then loosening the loin cloth tied around his waist. What she found there was new to her but she instinctively squirmed her body down His to lick and suck on it. After a time she felt strong hands pulling her back up. He embraced her and turned her on her back. For a time He stood over her, drinking in her body with His eyes. She was astonished at the way she felt. Her, an untouched, naive young girl feeling this intense heat of longing and need. Since she was a tiny child she had not even been naked in the presence of her own mother and now here she was stripped and spread eagled on the floor with a man and his manhood towering over her.

Gently, He lay down with her and began to kiss her, first on the lips, then moving down to her firm young breasts. Her nipples were harder than they’d been even in the freezing fields outside. When He took one in His mouth she almost almanbahis adres screamed the sensation was so intense. She felt His fingers stroking her belly, getting lower and lower until they were brushing against her sex. Only very occasionally in the darkness of her bed had she touched herself there, feeling the pleasure but knowing it was a sin. This felt like no sin at all. How could it possibly be a sin to pleasure her Lord?

His fingers found her moist opening and He placed first one finger, then two inside her. She moaned and pushed herself against Him. He shifted over onto her body and stroked her moistness with the tip of His manhood. She could barely contain her passion and as He thrust Himself inside her she let out a howl of ecstasy. He rode her and rode her, she matching Him stroke for stroke with the rocking of her hips. As He finally let out a huge groan of passion she felt an incredible heat spread from her belly to the top of her head and the tips of her toes. Sated, they lay together, locked in a holy embrace.

The Mother Superior found Claire the next morning. By the time they got her to the infirmary her parents had been sent for, as they thought she could live only a few hours more at most. In her delirium she said some very strange things but the Mother Superior advised the nun acting as nurse not to repeat them to anyone. Wicked women had been burned at the stake for less. The Mother did go back to the undercroft, just to check, but found the Christ statue cold as stone and securely nailed to the cross as he always had been.

Against all the odds, Claire regained her health but it was decided that she was not cut out for abbey life so she returned home with her parents. A month later, she married a fine young chap from the next village who swore to treat her well and indeed did so for the rest of their long and happy life together. Their first baby was born a little less than eight months after their marriage. He was a strong and healthy babe and didn’t look like the sickly little things sometimes born to village women before their time. But no-one thought about it too much, given that there couldn’t be any other explanation.

Though the Mother Superior did keep an eye on him as he grew up.

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