Church of Chains (10 page)

“What shall I do with you Number Three?” he asked.

“Fuck me Master!” she replied with no hesitation.

“And shall I whip you afterwards?”

Her hips were swaying desperately against him now and she tried to remember the words.

“Yes Master! Please whip me if you like, but for pity’s sake fuck me.”

Quite suddenly he rammed himself all the way in and pressed his hand hard against her clitoris at the same time. She screamed. And then screamed again, every time he rammed in so hard that he slapped his hips against her. Even the peaks of ecstasy she had scaled so far that evening were revealed as being only stepping stones towards other peaks. She cried, she begged for mercy, her hands scrabbled at the baize but the tidal wave of pleasure just went on and on building. He was going to kill her if he didn’t come soon she thought hazily. Time after time she felt the piston of his sex ram up into the tight cylinder of her arse and send electric shocks to every nerve in her body and meanwhile his hand worked brutally hard at her clitoris until she could hardly breathe under the constant barrage. And when her orgasm came it sent her arching up off the table as each muscle seemed to lock against its neighbour to keep her rigid while white-hot paths of light blazed through her brain. But at last she felt him come and heard his final roar as he rammed her one last time then withdrew from her.

She slumped forward and darkness closed over her.

When she came to, she found she had collapsed to the floor again. Slowly she hauled herself up into a sitting position and looked around her. The brothers were dressed again. She looked longingly at their uniforms of black trousers and white T-shirts with the red X on them. Now she knew what was under those clothes she wanted them all over again. She looked boldly at their faces, knowing it would probably get her punished but wanting them to know how grateful she was to them for having taken their pleasure with her. She froze in terror though when she saw Father Burton sitting quietly in an armchair over by the fireplace.

Hastily she looked down again.

She heard him rise from his seat and approach her. The hem of his dark blue robe and his shoes appeared in her field of vision. In a panic she wondered if she should kneel up or fling herself down at his feet. But it didn’t seem to matter; they were talking about her and as usual ignoring her.

“Well?” she heard the Father ask. “What is the verdict?”

“She’s good material Father,” one of the brothers replied, “very obedient and eager to please.”

“If she had any pride left, I think it’s been beaten out of her.” One of the others put in. “But she’ll need some training to rein herself in. She comes as often as it pleases her to.”

“That can be attended to. But you think we’ve got a little whore who can be trained to serve?” the Father asked again.

Paula was trembling. This was the culmination of the testing.

“I think,” it was the voice of the brother who had taken her last and most devastatingly, “I think that whatever she may have been before, she is certainly a hot little slave now who is ready to give pleasure to any man she is told to.”

Oh yes, Paula thought. All I want is to be told.

“Good. And of course it is our duty to direct her submissiveness in the ways of the Church. So we’ll let her be tested for a novice and see what we can make of her. Now did she incur any punishments tonight?”

“She spoke out of turn twice and was willing to accept a beating just so long as I fucked her Father.” The brother who had taken her last spoke again. There was general laughter which even Father Burton joined in with. He bent down and lifted her chin so that she looked up into his intense dark eyes. He looked at her for a long time and she felt he was looking right down into the depths of her soul where he could see how desperately she now wanted to be nothing.

“I think she understands,” he said finally, letting her go. “I will stay to see her beaten.”

“We thought the strap would do nicely Father.”

Paula heard Father Burton resume his seat while one of the brothers went to the cupboard again. She kept her eyes glued to the carpet until the brother came to stand right in front of her, a three foot, supple-looking leather strap hanging from one hand.

“Kneel up and then put your head down on the floor.” She did as she was told and knew what a sight she must be presenting to Father Burton. Her haunches stuck up into the air and between them the lips of her poor abused sex pouted towards him. He would probably be able to see how they were still full and open. In fact listening to the men discuss her had set her off again. And of course she was crusted with sperm from three men. As she moved she could feel it pulling at her skin, it must be caking her buttocks and inner thighs very obviously she thought. But then quite calmly she found herself thinking that they were bound to whip her there so the strap would probably get rid of it.

She pressed her forehead to the floor in front of the brother with the strap and folded her arms above her head. But that wasn’t good enough. He wanted them stretched wide apart. She obeyed and realised that this was a posture of complete submission in front of a man. And to add to the arousal which that thought set off, he placed a foot on the back of her neck.

“Give her four Brother,” Father Burton spoke.

The brother repeated her sentence to her adding, “And you’ll count them.”

Paula wished she could see herself. From where the brother was standing over her with the strap how tempting a target she must make. Her hips swelling out from her waist and the cleft of her buttocks giving him a perfect line to aim at in order to send the belt smacking down between her parted legs. She knew the pain would be excruciating and looked forward to suffering it in front of them to prove her submission.

She felt the brother’s weight shift on her neck as he raised the belt.

It made a loud swooshing noise in the air over her back and exploded all along the crease of her anus and that of her sex.

“Aagh!” She thought she had been ready but the weight of the leather and its width caught her totally by surprise. It didn’t single out any one part like a lash of a whip. It blasted the whole area. “One!” she managed to shriek.

Smack! “Oh God... Two!” She had to fight against the desire to shut her legs tight together. The second stroke had even reached right through and dug into the hair at her pubis.

Smack! “Aaah... Please! Three!” She didn’t know what she was begging for. Her fingers scrabbled at the carpet and her hips waggled desperately.

“Oh No!. . . I can’t . . “

Smack! “Aaah! God! Four! Please no more!” She cried and moaned under the brother’s foot. She was too tender and sore to repeat the orgasm of earlier, under the whip. But she balanced perfectly between the pleasure of abasing herself so utterly and the agony of the whipping. As soon as it stopped she wished it hadn’t.

The brother kept his foot on her neck while she writhed under it and Father Burton approached.

“I do not approve of profanity during a whipping. Bear that in mind next time Number Three.”

“I’m sorry Master!” Suddenly she was ashamed of the fuss she had made. Hadn’t these men taught her only today that this was her destiny, to be fucked or flogged and it didn’t matter which.

“I... I can take more if you want,” she stammered.

There was silence for a second. The foot came off her neck and Father Burton squatted down to lift her chin again. He stared intently at her once more. Paula struggled to blink back tears and meet his eyes.

“Your enthusiasm does you credit. But I think you’ve taken enough for one day.” He stood up, “However, there will be other days and perhaps I will take you up on that offer then.”

He turned and swept out.

Paula was hauled to her feet and helped back to her cell.

Chapter 12

She fought her way up from sleep which was so deep it was practically unconsciousness. Her eyes blinked open and slowly she began to recall the momentous events of the previous day. And as she did so, a comfortable warmth of well-being spread through her whole body. She knew exactly who and what she was now. And who she had really been all her life.

‘A hot little slave, ready to serve any man she is told to.’ That was what they had said she was last night. And how right they were.

Paula realised that she had kicked off her thin blanket in the night and now lay with her legs splayed, the cool air playing soothingly around her inner thighs, her sex and her anus. They still throbbed dully and she clung to that feeling as a further badge of her slavery. She had been whipped to an orgasm. She had masturbated openly in front of four of her masters who had then fucked her almost into oblivion and buggered her the rest of the way. And finally they had whipped her again while she knelt in complete submission at their feet.

But best of all she was going to become a novice and have the chance to go on serving the masters.

She stirred and stretched while a delicious tingle ran through her at these thoughts.

Brother Davis came to unchain her. He said nothing and she searched his face in vain for any expression. But as she climbed slowly to her feet and began to try and ease some of her stiffness, he told her that Father Burton had excused her from her breakfast beating and would allow her to work at the monastery for the morning. At the door of her cell he turned and gave her just the slightest of nods before leaving.

Paula’s heart sang. What greater sign of approval could a slave hope for?

She applied another copious layer of cream to her bottom and her inner thighs, working it gently into the livid areas where individual weals had crossed each other to produce whole patches of soreness. Lastly she smoothed it along her labia and felt its healing coolness on her tender membranes. They would soon be ready for use again.

At breakfast it felt very strange and lonely to be seated on her own while her companions queued up to be beaten. She had a ‘master’s eye view’ of obediently displayed buttocks being striped for the first time that day by the crop. The other girls glared at her as they straightened up and came to get their food. Paula longed to remind them that only yesterday she had taken an extra stroke and been publicly humiliated. Besides, the real truth was that she would rather have been taking her usual ration with them. She hadn’t liked being singled out yesterday and she liked it even less today. She knew that she belonged with them now and only wanted the same treatment they got. But the rule of silence was absolute.

While the rest of the group was harnessed for the fields, Paula was set to scrubbing down the table they ate at and carrying the empty bowls and leftovers to the kitchens. Sister Lavinia stood over her all the time and went with her.

It was the first time Paula had been into the house except to be taken to the Lounge. It was a hive of activity. Gaggles of initiates were hurrying in and out of rooms talking excitedly amongst themselves. As soon as they saw Sister Lavinia though, they quietened and went past with respectfully downcast eyes. And of course the brothers spread a wave of silence in front of them wherever they went.

In the kitchens, and under the watchful eye of Brother Gibson there were novices working at cleaning up from breakfast and preparing the lunch. Here there was only such conversation allowed as was needed for work, but even so there was an air of excitement which Paula could almost taste. Her own heart pounded at the thought that in only a few hours from now she would be allowed to work here. But what was everyone else’s excitement about? For the second time that day she found the rule of silence a real trial.

As she followed Sister Lavinia back towards her own familiar part of the monastery, Paula decided to accept whatever punishment it took, but she was going to have to ask what was going on. As it turned out though she didn’t have to.

When they reached a quiet corridor, Sister Lavinia stopped and turned.

“Alright. I can see you’re bursting to ask. I’ll give you two extra strokes tonight for being inquisitive and I’ll tell you.” She looked at Paula and smiled.

“Yes Sister. Thank you Sister,” Paula replied meekly.

“A new batch of sluts arrives tomorrow. Brother Davis and I will be collecting them tonight. But apart from that, the current novices will become initiates. However the real excitement is because every few months the initiates themselves have to move on, and they will be doing so in only a couple of days’ time.”

“Where do they move on to?” Paula forgot herself, “Sister... I mean.”

Sister Lavinia laughed. “When you become a novice my pretty little Number Three. You become available for use by us Sisters.” She reached out and ran a hand slowly down over one of Paula’s breasts, letting it linger at the nipple before tweaking it playfully. Paula shivered with pleasure. “And then I think I’ll punish you for that,” she went on, “some of the initiates move on to monasteries where they may be needed to serve, some go out into the world to serve the Church there. The rest are sold.”

Paula gaped at her and she laughed again, “Don’t look so shocked. The Church needs money to carry on its work and they are a very valuable resource. The Patriarch teaches us that though we must reform the world, we still have to live in it. And they will still serve in a way.”

“But...” Paula began.

“Enough now. As a novice you will see the sale, so be still and wait.”

Paula spent the afternoon back with her group, harnessed to a harrow and pulling her weight gladly. She took her extra two strokes of the crop at the evening meal and was grateful for having after all been excused the morning beating. Although a day’s rest and the cream had helped, she still writhed and swayed her hips under the lashes as they bit into the bruises left by the repeated whippings of the previous day. By the time she had taken the usual four she was gritting her teeth and sweating. For some reason the pleasure she had so recently found in her beatings deserted her. Although she was as glad as ever to proclaim her submission and bend over obediently, the fiery stinging didn’t trigger the responses at her belly and remained merely satisfying rather than exciting.

However, after the fourth lash Sister Lavinia leaned over her and grasped one of her breasts which was swaying under her as she fidgeted on her toes to absorb the stinging. Paula felt the cool hand close on her flesh and looked down to see it pull at the weight of it and then roll the nipple. She continued to stimulate it until it began to harden. Paula watched as it filled and stood out then sucked her breath in sharply when she saw and felt one of the Sister’s fingers hook itself into her ring.

“Remember what I said this morning. After tomorrow, I can have you whenever I want. Now you’re going to dance prettily for me aren’t you?”

“Yes Sister,” Paula whispered, her eyes fixed on the finger in her nipple ring. Sister Lavinia began to pull downwards, slowly but persistently. Paula whimpered as the tension increased and pain began to radiate out from the delicate flesh.

“Dance nicely now, or I’ll flay you every chance I get.”

Paula grimaced. “Yes Sister! I promise!”

The Sister let her go and stood up. She laid the crop along a line she had already traced in the smooth skin of Paula’s buttocks and moved it a little. Paula flinched, knowing that she was going to overlay the next lash and wanted her to know it. Her breast throbbed and suddenly she felt her belly begin to burn. Between her spread buttocks she knew her lips would be engorging and starting to peel open. That was all it took. A little considered cruelty and she would lap up whatever abuse was heaped on her.

She felt the crop lifted away and waited for the swishing sound it made as it descended. She heard it in time to lift herself up to meet it and gasp as the pain exploded redly. If only it was one of the brothers, she thought. But her body was responding anyway, she felt her lips quiver as Sister Lavinia laid the crop across the tops of her thighs for the last stroke and pressed it in so that the leather shaft caressed her labia. Paula’s breath hissed between her teeth as she steadied herself. She felt the pressure release as the crop was lifted again and then it sliced back down. Again Paula went up on her toes to meet it and embrace the burst of hot pain. She felt her juices start to flow in earnest but it was too late. She would just have to wait.

Slowly she stood up and rubbed her bottom, letting the other woman see her fingers trail languidly across the parallel lines scored in the soft pillows of her buttocks, and turned to smile over her shoulder. Sister Lavinia returned her smile briefly and then curtly ordered her to take her place at table.

They were woken as usual the next day but after breakfast were taken to the showers. To their amazement they found there was shampoo as well as soap. In addition they were given extra time by the brothers who watched them and Paula spent it lathering her long black hair and luxuriating in the hot water flowing into her face. Today there was plenty of time to enjoy the way her skin gleamed wetly and to work the soap properly into every crevice. She looked about her at similarly gleaming bodies, several of them with legs straddled and hands working gently between them. The brothers allowed them this exhibitionism. There would be no work in the fields today. Never again, if they behaved themselves.

They were given the usual towels to dry themselves but for today there was an extra one, and when they returned to their cells they found hair dryers had been plugged in along their corridor. There were simple chairs beside them and they helped each other in turn to blow-dry and brush their hair. Paula felt better for this simple luxury than she would have believed it possible to feel. If only there was a mirror!

But she found the faces of her companions went some way to providing one. The miserable band of scruffy sluts which had arrived here was gone. In its place was a group of lean and fit girls who looked at one another with real pride. They wore rings at their breasts and sexes, all of them carried the marks of the whip and the crop; they were slaves now. But as they carefully made the most of their hair Paula knew they were all more aware of their femininity than they had ever been in their lives.

They were also aware of their guards’ eyes on them and Paula found herself, along with the rest indulging in this uniquely female ritual. She tossed her mane of hair, fluffed it with her hands and reached up to brush it so that her breasts rose and swayed invitingly. Like the others, she did it far more than was strictly necessary.

Although there was complete silence, there was complete understanding. If the guards had chosen to take them into their cells and beat them or take them, they knew they would all have submitted gratefully. They were purified at last.