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A tattoo of black roses spread from where the word “catharsis” was inscribed on her breastbone in an antique script. “It seems so long ago” began Kristina in a voice that was incongruously aristocratic “but it came to me just before Easter, when I was still Sister Kristina at the convent of St Theodota. For some weeks I had felt compelled to intensify my mortifications; I felt that I was approaching some sort of vision - the revelation of a mystery”. Alone in her cell Sister Kristina lit candles at either end of the narrow shelf over her cot. She shook out the match and disposed of it. Bathed in their yellow glow she unfastened her black habit, stripped it off and laid it neatly on the cot. Naked save for her veil and a cruel, barbed cilice wrapped tightly around her waist and under her crotch, she knelt at the worn prayer stool and closed her eyes. After a long period of silent meditation, she took a knotted scourge from under the stool and kissed it. Then, bracing herself with her left hand she arched her back, set her knees wide apart, and swung the scourge with all her force over her shoulder into her back and buttocks. She repeated this five couple times at long intervals, gasping for breath at each stroke, and then switched the scourge to her left hand. Now, the knotted thongs cut across the crimson welts already standing out on Kristina’s freckled skin and her breathing became ragged and interspersed with low groans of agony. Her naked body twisted and writhed, making the wicked barbs of the cilice cut into soft flesh - vividly red drops of blood fell from her groin onto the stone flags - until she fell forward, the veil covering her eyes, and lashed herself with what strength remained to her. Her back and arse glistened slick with blood when the indian pain finally overwhelmed her and she sprawled on the floor in a dead faint. “That was when the vision came to me” she told Katya, her eyes fixed on her ebony fingernails and heavy, silver rings. “I had often meditated on the martyrdom sexy of our own St Theodota, and as I passed out my thoughts had been of her courage under the whip, on the rack and at the bite of the iron combs. But it was revealed to me that her death had been very different to the story in the manuscript”. She looked up with a smile as wicked as it was startling, “It was not the religious ecstasy I had been expecting”. The procurator was waiting on the marble steps outside the Temple of the Emperors with his Svitavian guardsmen when Kristina was led in chains to face him, a small crowd of curious citizens following her from the barracks to the forum. They halted before him. “So, girlfriend this is the Nazarene, Theodota” he proclaimed. “This is the woman who will die sooner than sacrifice to the Divine Caesars”. Kristina stood defiantly before him, dirty and bedraggled in a torn and crumpled tunic. The procurator took a broadsword from one of his guards and held the point to her white throat. He moved close and loomed over her. “It will not be a soldier’s death at sword-point for you if you refuse this final chance” he told her “but something much more painful and prolonged”. “I know it” said Kristina, loudly for all to hear. “And I must refuse to offer the sacrifice”. She lifted her manacled hands to the neck of her tunic and tore at it, ripping the unbleached linen apart so that it fell away from girl her, leaving her standing as a naked offering on the temple steps. “I am to be the victim of Vid, and Vid is jealous” she announced. At this, the crowd gathered excitedly around her, all speaking at once. The guards looked from man to man, disturbed, and a white-bearded warrior in splendid helm and armour took the procurator by the elbow to mutter urgently into his ear. He listened carefully to the veteran guardsman’s words, and then held his hands up to command silence. “So be it” he cried. “The law is satisfied that Theodota dies. And the law has no quarrel with Divine Vid”. I'd suck it.... Just before he got to the end, Ms. Jenkins rushed around the corner and girlfriend almost ran him over. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and his responded despite the awful circumstances. Trinity was known for being a hot zone for drugs and prostitution but Rose had no experience or schooling for something better. *”Want me to fire that up?” Ryan told me that one indian of the guys had renamed the parties as the OON Parties. I couldn't think. “I’ve purchased a rather large piece of government surplus ground in Utah,” Plato said. I felt every eye on me as I walked up to my locker. I slid my hand from her shoulder, into the water, and down along the crest of her couple naked back. Her smile was infectious, I was grinning as wide as she when I sexy girl asked “Is that your first time too?” I needed to know. “Right ladies; eggs in and I’ll be back in a minute with mine in as well.” “Yeah, so what?” I asked.