Saint Flora

  St. Flora dreamed of being stripped and whipped, but this was
  2035. Their was no need for suffering martyrs. There was an end
  to war and desease. Equality and peace reigned.
  Her vision of esctasies were troubling to her psychiatrist.
  "I want to be given over to shamfull slavery." she confessed.
  The Saint would tenderly caresss astonished vistors, while only
  wearing a g-string. "Bestow upon me your torments, let me bow
  in humiliation." she entreated her guess. A voice spoke to her,
  "Let their polution burst upon you!"
  Bound, hanging upside down, she cried out, "No, no; I ask not to
  be released; increase my torment exert all you can upon me!"
  A feeble old man came upon her in prayer. She lay naked over a
  barrell reading Holy Scripture. Hestitating and perplexed, lest he be
  tossed about sinfully. The old man mounted his trembling limbs upon
  her bare ass.
  "Oh! Stout staff!" she exclaimed, "You have found my prescious flower!"
  She dreamed astradle a rocket to distance worlds, "Let all the stars of
  Heaven open me." They swarmed around her as hideous insects buzzzing
  and stinging her tender skin. "Take me up with thee and let me ride upon
  thy bristled backs!" she gagged.
  It was descided by adjudication that St. Flora was quite mad.
  Her voice spoke to her, "You are the sweetest flower I have cut."


  :)