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Sisterhood of Sin -- 1 -- The Punishment

Our heroine is called upon to punish her protégé.
It was just a silly love story that I published on a smutty amateur erotica website, and it all went horribly wrong. It was based largely on the real-life redemption of my marriage, after infidelity almost ended it. But I used too much of my real life. Too many damning details made it traceable back to me, and now there is Hell to pay.

My name is Marie, and if you haven't read the twelve parts of the Last Wives Club story, that's okay. I will briefly re-introduce the main characters and attempt to supply whatever background is required to provide consistency. For the sake of those who read the story of how I salvaged my marriage by embarking on a life that my French Catholic upbringing would call debauchery, I will retake the name of the heroine, Catherine Geroux, but that isn't her only name. Her alias for sisterhood business is Mrs. Cate Blanc.

The sisterhood is a secret society of women dedicated to keeping foolish men (and women) from causing TEOTWAWKI, The End Of The World As We Know It, basically, the collapse of civilization. It operates by creating reasons to remain in stable family relationships and wielding the influence that it gains through its members and their husbands to produce socio-economic stability. That probably sounds all high and mighty, but we do it for selfish reasons. We can't trust men to protect us and our children.

The sisterhood is so secret, that each of us only knows a few sister members by real name or sight. Much of our business is conducted online by aliases. I was recruited by Kyra Cardinal. That's the alias of my old college roommate. During my recruitment, she became my first female lover. Kyra and I are both now age 41.

The recruitment bound my husband and me into a new marital arrangement that we call a re-nuptual agreement. The sisterhood operates by opening our marriages and thus obligating our husbands to economic cooperation with the sisterhood. In other words, spouses liberate each other sexually in return for ongoing commitment to the care and raising of our children and to the shared prosperity of each other and the sisterhood. We mutually allow and, if we wish, participate in extra-marital sex within the sisterhood's community of re-nupped couples. We also invest our savings and influence our employers in ways that are beneficial to our families and to the sisterhood.

Kyra introduced me into a system that the sisterhood uses to make our open marriages safer. We keep our husbands and ourselves sexually satisfied by trading, buying, or selling 'favors' among sisters. Those who choose to, become 'gifts' for an evening to husbands of sisters who want to make sure that their husband's extramarital affairs are kept within the security of the sisterhood. I have served as gift and I have sent gifts to my husband.

The money exchanged is usually 'no questions asked' money. Each sister has a personal online account where she manages the money she earns in the NQA balance. It's real money. She can access it using a special credit card. Her sponsor will see the expense and if she determines that it is worthy, cover it from the sisterhood treasury. If it's just ordinary favor trading, or some purchase unrelated to sisterhood business, it comes out of the NQA balance.

I recruited Claire Emerald, who became my second female lover. Claire is much more sexually experienced than me, probably even more than Kyra, and that's saying something. She is now aged 32, and has subsequently had to flee from her husband, because he could not tolerate the terms of their re-nuptual agreement.

I have been a member of the sisterhood for just over two years and have earned a position on the local Red Council. A Red Council is a regional group lead by someone who has attained at least a red card. Our leader is Liz, Kyra's sister-in-law. I do not know if she has a red card or something higher.

Our cards are ordinary credit cards, but they are blank. When read by a card reader, clerks seem prone to giving us the VIP treatment. I don't know why. When I asked why, Kyra, our region's financial wizard, said only, "Need to know." Kyra has a red card. I have a white card, one level down from red. Before the dissolution of her marriage, Claire had a blue card, one level below white. Below the blue card is the tan card, the lowest level and the max likely level of many of the sisterhood's members.

As a result of Claire's divorce-with-cause, she was allowed to remain in the sisterhood, in a covert capacity, and with a black card to replace her blue card. As I am her primary sponsor, I had the need to know and that is how I learned of the black card sisters. Her secondary sponsor, my sponsor Kyra, previously had the need to know about Claire in order to back me. But now that Claire has a black card sponsor overseeing her covert work, she was removed from Kyra's purview without explanation.

I was under orders not to tell Kyra what happened to Claire, which bothered me, but Kyra had no need to know about the existence of the black card sisters. Unbeknownst to me, she was the only one on the Red Council who was unaware of them. She was also the one who could best piece together my identity from reading my Last Wives Club story. It had all the relevant details, including the one-night stands we each had with the other's husband, at each other's request.

I begin this story with imagined conversations about me and the Last Wives Club story that I submitted to the erotic stories website. I have to imagine the conversations, because I was not present. The first begins with the ring of one the sisterhood's secret cell phones. 


"Hello, Mrs. Cardinal."

"I'm sending you an email. Check out the link in it. Read all twelve of them. I'm sure you'll want to have a conference call tonight. I think it will be obvious that it should be the whole group, except Marie. It should also be obvious who else you should invite. If what I read is true, you've got some explaining to do."

"Well hello, Kyra. Nice to hear from you. What the fuck are you talking about? All twelve of what? And why are you taking that tone with me? Have you forgotten that I'm in charge of this council? Just because you married my asshole brother, that doesn't give you..."

"Dammit, Liz. They're stories, chapters, episodes, I don't know what to call them. They're about us. Just read them. I'll be ready for our usual time. It's beyond our wildest dreams, or maybe that should be nightmares. I'm not sure which."

"You know you can send a URL in a text message."

"Email is encrypted. Read now. Talk later."

This next imaginary conversation is a tele-conference.


"Are we all here? Except Marie Blanc of course, or should I say Cate?"

"Kyra Cardinal, in."

"Barbie Malibu, in."

"Bethany Riviera is on with the one you asked for. I confirmed what you suspected, Liz."

"Margo Wren, here, and I'm just bursting with curiosity."

"Ladies, please welcome Claire Emerald. The newest member of the Red Council."

"What the fuck, Liz?"

"Need to know, Kyra. We'll talk later. So, I assume you all read the stories. Let me preface this by saying that our systems are tight and we see no real risk to us from this unsettling exposure. It may even help us increase recruitment. Thoughts? Margo?"

"Welcome, Claire. Liz, this is amazing. Thousands of people have viewed her stories. Can you believe all the horndogs on that site?"

"Welcome, Claire. Maybe it was just a few people opening the page thousands of times, Margo."

"Thanks for the welcomes. I don't think so, Barb. If so, they would have friction burns on their uglies. I agree with Margo."

"Maybe they're mostly men."

"Probably, Beth. She didn't have many women among her friends, but she got a few positive comments from women and at least one woman is following her."

"What's that mean, Liz? Is that like following on Twitter?"

"Well I assume it means they get email notice when she writes a new story. Can you check on that, Claire?"

"I can already confirm it. Following an author means you get an email when a new story goes up. But even if they're mostly men, she's getting to some women."

"And that's what we've been hoping for. We need a safe way to make it easier for good potential recruits to find us. There are risks with that. We'll have to screen harder for infiltrators."

"How did we find this?"

"Welcome, Claire. Please don't think that I oppose your addition to the council. My... Liz just surprises me sometimes. Anyway, one of our accountants from overseas saw it. She's in Oz. She said it steamed up her screen. These stories are read by English speakers all over the world. She got suspicious and sent it to me because the chapters are set here in the Midwest. She thought all the Red Councils should know about it, starting with ours."

"Thanks, Kyra. I'm intrigued about what it could do for us. I've been thinking we could find some way to use a website for recruitment, Liz. If we could develop a way for them to apply online, this might be a way to get that URL out there."

"Maybe, Barb. I've forwarded the link so the other Red Councils will see it, and I've requested their thoughts on it. In the meantime, I think we should find a way to punish her for this."

"Punish her? I wouldn't have recommended that she submit these stories to the site if I thought you would punish her."

"Relax Claire. We're not as serious as those East Coast bitches. She said she needs new material. Let's give her some."

"Good idea, Kyra. How kinky is she?"

"What do you mean, Liz?"

"Well, I was thinking of my old sorority initiation rites. We had the pledges do some raunchy sexual stuff."

"I see. I have to tell you. She has surprised me every step of the way. And she obviously has a good imagination. I knew she could write, but not like this. I don't mind saying that I had some chafing after I read those stories. I'm just sorry that I had to read them all at once. I would have enjoyed them more if I read one a day. I think she'll play well with us, if you're thinking some kind of trial or ordeal. And she did mention a coven of witches in one of her stories, maybe a ritual setting like the induction ceremonies. And she thought I might be serious about training videos."

"But we're not all... oriented that way, are we?"

"Does it matter how we are oriented, Barb? She's the one getting the punishment. I'm not... I like men, but I could have fun if she's having fun, too."

"What does that mean, Beth?"

"Um, I do have this thing for spanking bare bottoms. It doesn't have to be a man's. And I wouldn't mind witnessing whatever else you do to her, as long as I don't have to, um... lick her."

"Me, neither. But I can witness. It's not like we haven't all seen her come before. We've seen the video feeds from Gabe's."

"I'm with Margo and Bethany. No licking for me."

"Okay, Barb. That's three lickers, one spanker and two voyeurs."

"I can do more than watch. I can spank too. Just not... But you, Liz? I... didn't know."

"It was a lesbian sorority, Margo. Lambda Rho."

"AKA, Delta Eta Delta."

"Snicker all you want, Kyra. If half of what she wrote about you is true, you're one to talk."

"Easy, Liz. It's just what the boys called that house. I think they were just jealous. I didn't know you were a member. And what Marie wrote about me was all too accurate. But I don't really mind. At least she didn't use our real names or mention that my boobs are saggy. She even lied in her profile. She's my age."

"And she didn't use our real locations. She did a pretty good job of concealment."

"And she made me seem prettier than I am. And she didn't mention that I have feet as long as water skis."

"Do you really have those tattoos, Claire?"

"Um, I have tattoos in those places, but they're not what she said they are."

"Ladies, we're getting off track here. Kyra, can you set something up?"

"Sure. There's a big room in my basement that would make a good dungeon. The billiards table would make a good altar. Or maybe I can find something more special."

"I know what you need, there's a special table..."

"It sounds like you have the right experience for this, Claire. Can you help Kyra?"

"Absolutely. Don't worry, Ma'am. We'll cook something up."

Those conversations are the way I imagine the events I'm about to reveal were initiated. What comes next is how I get the painful experiences that will lead to more stories.


"Hello, Mrs. Cardinal." I'm not expecting this call from her, so I'm surprised that her name appeared on my cell phone, but it isn't too extraordinary. We haven't spoken directly in weeks. Mostly we text.

"Hello, Mrs. Blanc. How's your weekend looking?"

"The whole weekend?"

"Most of it. We can have you back on Sunday by five PM."

"Can't do it. The twins have a soccer game at ten AM on Saturday. It will be over at noon."

"Can you get to the airport by two? It's important."

"That's doable. Where am I going."


"What do I need to bring?"

"Your mask and trenchcoat."

"Oh? Uh, okay."

"I'll see you when you get here."

"Bye, Ky."

This is very strange. She sounded nervous and she hung up so quickly that she probably didn't hear me say goodbye. There was no idle chat from my best friend. No nothing. Just the facts, Ma'am. Just the facts. History tells me that she's upset about something.

Of course I wonder what it could mean. Of course I also wonder where it will lead. I've been with the sisterhood for almost two years. My family is doing incredibly well as a result. Our fourteen year old daughter Maddie is off at boarding school, a luxury we could never have considered without my new connections. She seems happy there. Thank God that Harry Potter made boarding schools cool. My twin boys are hoping we'll send them to one and we're trying to find one. Dan and I are looking forward to having our evenings alone once they're gone. Don't get me wrong. I love my kids. But we have money now, and they have independent spirits. And frankly, I have taken on enough sisterhood work that I'm running the risk of burnout.

At least my duties as Claire's sponsor have diminished greatly. She rarely charges anything to her card. She's made so much money that she spends her own when she wants something. She's taken large chunks of her NQA money out of her account and invested it in various places around the world. She's keeping a low profile here in the US, living well but avoiding the appearance of living too well. Considering all the bartering we do without paying the appropriate taxes, that's a skill that we all have to learn, but it's harder for the black card sisters, having only one on-the-books career to draw an aura of legitimacy from.

Gabe, the man who almost got away from us when his wife died, got the CEO position as a result of our help. He appears to be slowly falling in love with the new wife that I helped him find, a volunteer from the ranks of the black card sisters, and his stepdaughters have a new baby brother. I meet with him about once a month, but only have sex with him about half of those. He is my only other regular male lover.

Most correspondence with Kyra is via email or text, now. I'm glad that I will soon be seeing her, but since she said, 'we can have you back', I wonder whether there will be much time for just the two of us to be alone together.

Things are very good between Dan and I. The months since the night I gifted myself to him have been the best since we married. Our sex life still suffers during the week, when my energy level is lowest, but we make up for it on the weekends. He won't interfere with this trip, though. He knows that sisterhood business comes first and he accepts that graciously. The sisterhood has helped his career as well as mine.

So my lovers are all good with me, as far as I know. Kyra meets me at the airport when I fly in. She's quiet and doesn't want to answer any questions. Then she finally says, "Liz is adding Claire to the Red Council."

Then it strikes me. Claire has not been mentioned in any of the Red Council meetings. She's been a black card sister since the night we rescued her. She dropped off Kyra's screen and when Kyra asked about her, all I could say was, "Need to know."

"Ah, so now you had a need to know. I'm sorry I had to keep secrets from you."

"I know, Cath. I just took the second oath. I'm in the loop now. I suspected something like that when you weren't alarmed over Claire's disappearance from my screen. When you offered matchmaking services to Gabe, it seemed pretty obvious that there were sisters I didn't know about."

"You heard about that?"

"I heard it as you said it." She smiles a sexy little smirk and says, "I got to watch, too. That was hot."

"Oh god, Ky. How many witnesses were there?"

"Just the Red Council, as far as I know. We all liked it, and we're all very grateful that you harpooned that whale."

"Geez, you make it sound so predatory. It's not like we're eating him. He's richer and happier than he was."

Knowing that these women had all seen me fuck Gabe should bother me, but it doesn't really. I already knew that Bethany listened. It's part of her job as my security escort. And I knew there were cameras in his house. We spy on our men. She probably watched on her tablet as she sat in her minivan. Margo, Barbie, and Liz aren't lovers, but I think of them as good friends and if they liked watching, I don't have a problem with knowing that I gave them a good show. I get a disturbing little warm feeling in my pussy thinking about it.

"So what's this little shindig tonight?"

"It's an induction ceremony for Claire, into the council."

"How come I didn't get one?"

"Well, you did. Liz and I took you to dinner. It's not always easy to get all of us together in the same place. Tonight is kind of special."


"Yep. We'll be back up to full strength. We've been down since Mrs. Nixon and Mrs. Cleveland uh, departed prematurely."

She means they died. Mrs. Cleveland did anyway. Mrs. Nixon is a new alias for me.

"Who was Mrs. Nixon?"

"Gabe's late wife, Theresa MacAdams."

"Oh. So seven is full strength?"

"Traditionally yes. You'll be wearing your mask, because you're her sponsor. Her... other sponsor took care of getting her here."

By 'other sponsor' she means Bethany. She's only just learned that Margo and Bethany are also black card sisters.

I know that I've got some memory of the number seven being significant for something. I'm thinking of the occult, like the seventh seal, or the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter or something. Then it hits me. I seem to remember something from a horror story about certain covens having seven members. I bet that sisters, maybe even entire Red Councils of the past, were sometimes accused of witchcraft.

When we get to the house, Kyra asks me to quickly change into my trenchcoat and mask because Claire is due to arrive soon. I strip, wash up, touch up my makeup, and dress as quickly as I can. I don't want to be under-prepared. Kyra helps me with my mask and then takes me down to a room in the basement. She's wearing a bathrobe, hose, and heels, and I suspect that she will probably just throw a burqa on for the induction ceremony.

She guides me into a room and then, before I realize what's happening, she steps back out and closes the door behind. I hear some clicking noises that sound like locks being closed. I test the door and sure enough, it's locked.

After a few minutes, I hear smacking noises. They sound like hands against bare flesh. I start counting them, realizing that I may have missed one or two before thinking of that. I get to six and there's a pause, then they start again. With the thirteenth smack I hear a woman's voice say "Ow!". It sounds like Claire's voice. There's another pause, and the spanking starts again. Seven more smacks, twenty total now, or more likely 21. I hear cries of pain each time now.

It is clearly Claire getting a bare bottom spanking. I recall when I was spanked as a child. It was never like this. After a pause, the spanking starts again. Seven more, and again seven more. Either thirty-four or thirty-five total. Claire is clearly in tears now. I hear the locks click on the door. It opens easily when I try it this time, so I leave the room and see a light coming from a room at the end of a long hall. I glimpse a woman wearing a black burqa stepping into the room and moving to the side. We've adopted the US military's slang for such women. BMOs, Black Moving Objects, are what we become for some of our anonymous activities, especially ceremonies.

I'm shaking as I walk down the hall. I look inside and see Claire, standing naked and facing away from me. Her ass is bright red. BMOs are standing all around her, except between me and her. They are swaying slightly as I hear the sound of jungle drums, played at a low volume. I rush to comfort her and hear the door close behind me.

"Stop!" It's Liz's voice and it carries such a tone of authority that I stop before I reach poor Claire.

"Thank you for joining us, Mrs. Blanc. Mrs. Emerald has earned a punishment and it must be completed before she can join us. It's your turn. Please sit in the chair."

I hesitate, but Claire looks over at me and says, "It's okay, Cathy. I had the chance to refuse, it's not as bad as it seems." Then she actually winks at me. She's enjoying this and she wants me to participate.

"May I know why she is being punished?"

"You will be told that later. All you need to know is that she accepts it willingly."

I wonder what consequences she was threatened with. From what she has told me of her past, I think it wouldn't take much to get her to accept a spanking.

I sit in the chair and she drapes herself over me, her ass at an angle where a good swing of my strong arm will impact it perfectly, right in the meaty part of each buttock. Five BMOs surround us and start to sway with the beat of the drums. I think I should hurry to spare Claire from the strain of bearing the weight of her upper body on her arms, but her ass looks so tender that I begin to rub it, hoping to ease her pain. I feel her nectar as it oozes down her thigh and it quickly becomes obvious that her pussy is very wet. She had hinted about this side of her nature in past conversations. It was something she reserved for female lovers, not something she ever let Mick, her ex-husband, do.

"Start on the left and alternate. That will even them out. Seven smacks." Liz seems anxious to get this over with.

I raise my hand and smack her square on the left cheek. She gives a very satisfying, "Ow!", but then whispers, "Harder."

I spank her again on the right cheek and she again cries out, but again requests a harder smack. My hand is already stinging, but I give her a third. This time after a brief outburst, she says, "Good".

I deliver each remaining smack just as firmly. After the seventh, my hand is really stinging and I would swear she is only one or two smacks away from orgasm. She actually seems disappointed as she stands up, but one of the BMOs, the um, widest one, hands her a whip. It looks like a cat-o-nine-tails, but I do a quick count and there are only seven individual beaded strands. It wasn't made that way. Two strands were cut.

Claire looks perplexed. Liz, the sister who handed the whip to her says, "Seven times seven. You are the seventh. You must give them to yourself."

Claire actually looks happy at the prospect of whipping herself in front of us. "Um, is there a particular way I must do this?"

"No, just make sure it's seven times, and make sure it's as hard as you deserve."

"May I ask the assistance of my sponsor?"


"Mrs. Blanc, would you please assist me?"

"Of course, dear."

Claire walks over to a rug that I hadn't even noticed. I suddenly take note of the entire room. There are candles lit all around, so many that I would call the room brightly lit. The only electric light in the entire room is the small red light that indicates that the CD player is on. The rug is round, but when I look close, I see that it has a pentagram in the middle, a five pointed star that I recall is sometimes an occult symbol for Satan!

She lays on the rug, with her head at one point of the pentacle. Her arms and legs align with the other points. "Please, stand by my head and hold my feet up."

I stand with my feet on both sides of her face. She smiles as she looks up, but I can't see her eyes. She's looking up under my coat at my nakedness. I lean over and grab her ankles when she raises them. The sound of the drums is having an effect on me. I begin to sway.

"Wider, please. A little more. More. That's good. Step back a little. Perfect."

I can't imagine what she's going to do in this position. Her legs are spread pretty wide, her knees are slightly bent. She brings the whip back over her head. It suddenly swishes between my knees, barely brushing the hem of my trenchcoat. Her wrist flicks just before the handle of the whip smacks down hard on her mound and the seven strips of rawhide wrap around her pussy, barely fanning out as they bring the beads at their ends into her flesh, all but one onto her left buttock.

I watch in amazement as she rubs the handle of the whip, right where the strands emerge from it, against her clit.

"Ohhhhhh. One."

It's clear that she had hit herself harder than I hit her, but as she pulls the whip back, I'm entranced by the glistening lips of her pussy. Again, she flails herself, changing the angle only slightly to land this blow on her right side. She rubs her clit each time and counts each stroke. I feel my juices start down one leg as I watch.

With the sixth blow, she comes, but instead of rubbing the whip handle against her clit, she quickly pulls back and lands the final blow, right down the center, and with such force that she yelps. She continues rubbing her pussy with the whip handle as she writhes on the floor. I release her ankles and glance around at my swaying sisters and see that all of them have at least one hand drawn inside their clothing. I'm the only one present who isn't pleasuring herself. As if they are mesmerized, they continue swaying. One of them suddenly gasps as she comes. It is the short one, Bethany.

The others suddenly become aware of me looking at them. I help Claire to her feet. She gives me a hug and my hand strays down to caress her bottom. "Thank you, Cathy."

"Perhaps you could tell me what you were being punished for."

Claire looks frightened and says only, "I'm sorry. I..."

Liz interrupts, "No! That will be explained in due course. We have other business to attend to. Margo?"

Margo's hand moves out from inside her burqa. She is clutching a white card, which she gives to me, saying only, "For Claire." I realize that, as with Margo, Claire is going to be given whichever color of card she needs to accomplish her assignments. This card probably only ceremonially represents a promotion in rank and privilege.

Liz speaks again. "Claire Emerald. Your punishment is complete, although it hardly seems honest to call it a punishment."

Several of the other women snicker at this.

"Since members of the Red Council must have at least a white card, your sponsor has something to give to you."

Claire turns to me and she has never looked more beautiful to me. She is naked, her face is tear-streaked, her eyes are reddened, she is sweaty, and her hair is a mess, but she is proud and happy and flushed with afterglow from her orgasm.

"Claire Emerald, I am so proud of you. Congratulations and welcome to the Red Council." I give her the card and kiss her on the lips.

"You may dress now, Claire." Liz turns to me and says, "You asked about the reason for her punishment. Is she not the friend who encouraged you to publish those tawdry stories about us on that smutty website?"

I look around and see all my sisters looking straight at me, even Claire as she pulls her burqa down over her face. I realize that I'm caught in a trap.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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