Sister Regina sat rigidly behind the large oak desk, her bony hands folded neatly in front of her. Her piercing blue eyes stared unblinking as Monica shuffled nervously into the office, eyes downcast.
The room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on the corner of the desk. Heavy burgundy drapes blocked out the mid-morning sun, giving the room a gloomy, oppressive feel. The walls were lined with bookshelves full of thick, leather-bound books and various Catholic iconography. A large carved crucifix hung prominently behind the headmistress's head.
"Sit," Sister Regina said curtly, her voice sharp.
Monica quickly took a seat in the hard wooden chair across from the desk, smoothing her plaid skirt and keeping her eyes fixed on her clenched hands in her lap. She could feel the nun's harsh gaze burning into her.
"Ms. Hess, would you care to explain why Mr. O'Reilly caught you behind the gymnasium smoking a cigarette during your lunch break?" The nun's words were slow and deliberate, each one clipped.
Monica's stomach churned with anxiety. She had hoped she could sneak a quick smoke without getting caught. Just one cigarette to help calm her nerves after a stressful morning.
"I...I just...it was only one..." she stammered.
"One what?" The nun interrupted. "One infraction of school rules? One sin? Speak up, girl."
Monica swallowed hard. Her mouth felt dry. "One cigarette, Sister."
"Mm," Sister Regina murmured, a look of disappointment on her stony face. She sighed heavily. "Monica, as you well know, smoking is strictly prohibited for all students per the school code of conduct. Not only does it pose a health hazard, but it reflects poorly on the standards of this institution."
Monica nodded meekly, her cheeks burning in shame.
"This is especially disappointing behavior coming from you," the headmistress continued. "You have always been an exemplary student. A role model. Chair of the honor society. Captain of the debate team." She shook her head. "And now here you are, sullying your reputation and good name over a foolish moment of teenage rebellion."
Tears pricked Monica's eyes. The nun was right. She had jeopardized everything she had worked for over something so stupid. Her parents would be so disappointed if they found out. They were so proud of her accomplishments.
"I'm sorry, Sister," she choked out. "It won't happen again."
Sister Regina was silent for a long moment, staring at Monica with a mixture of anger and pity. Finally she spoke, her voice low but firm.
"Sorry does not absolve you of consequences. As you well know, we have zero tolerance for such transgressions here."
Monica nodded, the lump in her throat growing. She thought of her perfect 4.0 GPA, her spotless disciplinary record. How a single mistake could tarnish everything.
"Please, Sister," she pleaded desperately. "Don't call my parents. I can't have this on my record. I'll do whatever it takes to make amends."
The headmistress arched one sharp eyebrow. "Whatever it takes, you say?"
Monica hesitated then gave another meek nod, dreading whatever punishment would come next.
"Very well. Your parents will remain ignorant of your disgusting vice," Sister Regina said coolly. "But you will report here every day after school for the next two weeks to organize and catalog the library archives as penance."
Relief washed over Monica. She could handle some filing and sorting as punishment.
"Thank you, Sister. I promise it won't happen agai-"
"Oh we are not done yet, child," the nun interrupted, a cryptic glint in her eye.
She slowly rose from her desk, her robes rustling softly as she stood. With quiet, almost predatory grace she moved around and sat on the edge of the desk directly in front of Monica, the young girl forced to crane her neck to meet the tall nun's gaze from inches away.
Sister Regina looked down at her, taking in the pretty face framed by flowing auburn curls. The full lips still stained cherry red from the smudged lipstick Monica had hastily wiped away. Lingering scent of smoke mixing with sweet youthful perfume.
"Pretty young girls have always needed extra vigilance and discipline, to curb their sinful natures," the nun said softly, almost tenderly. She reached out one hand to delicately tilt Monica's chin up.
"Please Sister, I've learned my lesson," Monica said nervously, trying to pull away from the woman's touch. But the nun's grip was surprisingly strong. Like a craftsman admiring a stone block, preparing to shape it.
"Oh we have only just begun, child," Sister Regina purred. Her fingers pressed slightly into Monica's soft cheek. "When the soul is weak, the body must be made to suffer, so the spirit may grow stronger."
Monica's eyes went wide with fear, her breath quickening.
"Turn around and place your hands flat upon my desk," the headmistress commanded. "It's time I remind you of the virtues of piety and obedience."
Monica hesitated only a moment before silently complying, tears flowing down her cheeks. She stared down at the polished oak desk, littered with stray papers and religious texts. Her fingers trembled against the hard wood.
"Lift your skirt, girl."
Monica numbly complied.
She flinched as she heard the telling swish of fabric behind her.