Exhibitionist Diary: Sunday 18th November 2018

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Running is really hard work! And not at all sexy! I need more sports bras.

I was only following an NHS podcast and there’s hardly any running involved, with lots of walking in between, but my legs ache now. I was out early(ish) for Sunday and there were other runners about (and they were actually running), and when I got back I had a shower and then ended up collapsing on the sofa and just lay there, naked and tired and watching a Sunday morning cooking programme.

I hadn’t pulled the curtains so when I finally got around to moving I peered out of the window and saw my neighbours opposite. I had to crawl out of the front room so they couldn’t see me! Which is silly, since it’s my own flat: why can’t I be naked in it if I want?

Anyway, I made a decision today: now I knew Matthew was unavailable, I would flirt with him as freely as if he were my best and gayest friend who would never in a million years be interested. It would be good practice.

Exhibitionist Diary: Saturday 17th November 2018

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Retail therapy might be the best cure for a lovesick heart (and it’s not like I was even that hot on Matthew anyway), but shopping for running shoes really isn’t it. I was in trousers and a top and no underwear and they asked me to go on a treadmill to check my gait and recommend the right trainers for me. I’ve never been on a treadmill before and as well as hanging on for half of it my boobs were bouncing everywhere. There are times when underwear really makes a lot of sense.

Anyway, between those and leggings and running tops I came away about three hundred pounds poorer. I’ll go out and try the new gear tomorrow, I promise.

Exhibitionist Diary: Friday 16th November 2018

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I ended up going out to get lunch with Matthew. It wasn’t on purpose, we just left the office at the same time. I was feeling suddenly brave so I asked him if he was coming out for a drink this evening. I felt a bit sick when he told me he was going to meet his fiancée. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend and just said “ok, another time,” in a very pathetic way.

I didn’t go out for a drink either and I was surprised I was actually disappointed when I got home. I think I ate too much chocolate.

More Naked Than Nude

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“Sarah nodded, determined not to shed a tear despite the unbridled anger directed at her. She realised, there and then, that she hated the Reverend Mother, and she hated her methods, and that, no matter what, she resolved that she would not be cowed...

Sarah nodded, determined not to shed a tear despite the unbridled anger directed at her. She realised, there and then, that she hated the Reverend Mother, and she hated her methods, and that, no matter what, she resolved that she would not be cowed by her. She might obey, while the Reverend Mother had all the power, but that did not mean she was defeated. Three days naked in a convent was humiliating, but she could just about survive it.

That evening Sarah discovered a downside of her punishment: in her unclothed state, nobody would sit near her at the dinner table, or talk to her as they walked to prayer. Being ostracised was worse than being naked. At prayer she crouched, ashamed of herself, at the back of the room, begging for forgiveness because she knew that she had done wrong. Yet still, as she had after Sister Theresa’s punishment, she begged for forgiveness for the Reverend Mother, because she felt the Reverend Mother needed it even more than she did.

Sarah prayed some more within the solitude of her own room and, slipping off her stockings, she went to bed, her mind dwelling on how such a small lapse had gotten her into such deep trouble.

Read the rest of the story in The Rules of the Convent