Church of Chains (13 page)

“Now lick again,” he said, “and all of it this time.”

She knew immediately what he meant. His legs were open and the nearly flaccid sex dangled between them. She turned herself and crawled towards him.

She began by licking and kissing his inner thighs, running her tongue nearly up to his scrotum but stopping just short and then starting again. Moving from right to left and back again, she tasted his sour sweat-soaked skin. Whenever she came closest to his groin she got the sharp smell of urine again, mixed with the musk of his emissions and his overall aroma of unwashed body.

Gratitude flooded over her each time this happened, he was giving her the opportunity to abase herself utterly and she waited patiently for the order she knew would come. At last he lay back with a sigh of contentment. “You know what I want,” he said simply.

“Yes Master,” she replied and moved closer to him to allow her mouth to explore further. She caressed his scrotum first. To start with it was wrinkled and slack but as her tongue lapped obediently around his balls and toyed gently with them, she felt it start to tighten and saw his member begin to straighten and fill, jerking erect once more. But he didn’t want her there, not yet. She ducked her head and ran her tongue along the ridge behind the scrotum which led to his anus. His smell filled her nostrils now. Her lips and tongue encountered the matted hair which coated the insides of his buttocks. She probed between them, using her hands to lift and open his legs to get her head further under him. She shifted closer again and then her questing tongue flicked out once more and at last found the puckered opening of his anus. She heard him moan and she licked eagerly at the salty, earthy tasting entrance. Lost in a delirium of submission she pushed again and felt the entrance open to her tongue and she pushed it in to the dark passage. Her own excitement mounted as he arched his back and moaned again. She paused for a second to lick her lips and lubricate her tongue better, then pushed it up deep into his anus again, twisting her head round to get as much penetration as she could. Her tongue was aching now and saliva was running down her face but then she felt his hand in her hair and he pulled her off.

“Get me a fag,” he said breathlessly. She was kneeling back between his legs and panting herself, she could feel her sex lips quivering with arousal as she looked at his throbbing erection. His command puzzled her and she looked at him blankly.

“Get me a fag and light it you daft bitch.” He sat up and swung a hand back as if to slap her. She slipped hurriedly off the bed and found the cigarettes. Fumbling in her haste she extracted one and lit it, coughing on the acrid smoke.

“Give it here,” he told her, “and then get back to work.” She gave it to him and climbed back onto the bed. “You’ll find out what I want with this in due course.” He waved the cigarette, “But now I want you there.” He pointed at his erection.

Still dazzled and thrilled by her degradation, Paula bent down to take him into her mouth. She felt an extra surge of warmth in her belly as she did so. What did he have in store?

She kept her bottom raised in the air as she sucked at him to give herself a better angle to work from. It let her slide her mouth well down his shaft and she could taste an exciting mixture of sperm, her own juices and her own anal musk, from where he had buggered her. To have that shaft which had speared into her sex and her backside finally erupt in her mouth was going to make her come herself, she was sure. She could feel the heat in her sex and wondered if she could get one hand down there to masturbate with while he spurted into her mouth. But then she found out what he intended to do with the cigarette.

“Keep your arse up good and high,” he told her. She was right down on him and feeling him at the back of her throat, but now he sat up over her and she had to turn her head sideways to get him in because of his stomach. But she kept on working at him; there was the salty taste of his seed at his slit. He would come soon, but before he did he reached over her and she felt the heat of the cigarette in the cleft of her buttocks. It stung and burned at the tender skin on the inner sides of them. She wriggled her hips desperately and gave a muffled shriek of protest around her gag of flesh. He lifted it away slightly and she felt one hand reach further down to the crack of her sex. The other pushed her head firmly down. He was going to burn her! She thought he had done everything to her but now, while he came in her mouth he was going to burn her! A wild excitement raged through her, and she moved her head urgently on him. And as she felt his member swell and the pulses begin to run through it, she settled herself so that her legs were farther open and the tender lips of her sex offered up to this new torment. He began to spurt into her mouth and she heard him gasp just before a lightning bolt of pain lanced through her as he ground the burning cigarette into the very crack between her lips. She was so moist that it just had time to send one stupendous burst of pain through her before it was extinguished. But it was enough to tip her over the edge. She writhed and tried to cry out as she came but choked on his fluid as it pumped into her. His hand held her head down and she spluttered helplessly while her stomach and sex rippled and shook, as every nerve in her body seemed to overload at the same time.

When he finally let her go she curled up, coughing, gasping and nursing her sex with both hands. It hurt terribly now the orgasm had passed and she rocked herself and groaned.

He got off the bed and dressed calmly. Then without a word or a backward glance he went to the door and knocked. It opened almost immediately and then he was gone.

Chapter 15

In the minutes which followed, Paula slowly sat up and took stock. The pain at her sex had subsided to an angry kind of tingling and she opened her legs wide to have a look. Bending over herself she opened her labia and even found that she used her rings for ease. There was some redness, but nothing which looked too bad. She noted how closely the lines of the whip lay to her lips and felt a surge of warmth at the memory of the pain. She shook her head in amused despair at her own depravity.

For once no-one seemed to be in a hurry to make her go anywhere or do anything so she walked into the bathroom to find some cold water for the burn. She found a flannel and after wetting it she held it pressed between her thighs. She also found a bottle of mouthwash. But her main discovery was a mirror. It was a small one mounted over the basin but Paula was able to look at herself for the first time in weeks. She found her face was thinner, but if anything that made her better looking she felt. Her hair was a mess and she raked it back with her fingers. She looked at herself again. It wasn’t the face of a victim she decided. She may have been whipped, buggered and now even burned; she may have been ordered to lick and kiss every orifice of that awful man, and had obeyed. But her face was that of a woman who has explored every inch of her own sensuality. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips still soft and full. She smiled at her reflection—proud and wanton, then shook her hair out and allowed the tip of her tongue to appear teasingly between her lips.

“Bring on the next test, brothers,” she told her reflection. But just then she heard the bedroom door open and suddenly all her confidence vanished and she hurried back.

It was Brother Davis.

“Open,” he ordered her, and she snapped into position. She shivered as he ran his fingers over the welts on her breasts and stomach but he ignored her and bent to look at her thighs. He traced the marks where the lash had curled round her and finally let his hand run along her labia. She winced as it passed over her burn mark.

“What did he do there?” Brother Davis asked.

“Burned me with a cigarette Master.”

“Were you good and moist at the time?”

“Yes Master.”

“Then you’ll be fine soon enough.” He straightened up and tilted her chin to look into her eyes. “He said you were very good after a whipping.”

“Thank you Master.”

For the second time he smiled openly. “How you do love the whip Number Three,” he said.

She smiled back shyly. “Yes Master.”

He became serious again. “You all did well. There are ten criminals on their way to a monastery now, quite willingly. They may have been in prison but they’re all the type to re-offend. But once we’ve got them...” he gave an ironic smile, “they won’t. Of course we could have abducted them but it’s so much easier if we use these little honeypots.” He tapped her sex lightly. “Then they walk into the trap of their own accord.”

He turned away and told Paula to follow him. She obeyed, but her thoughts were in turmoil. Her past life had made a most unwelcome intrusion. Honeypot.

She had come full circle. So where did she go from here?

The other girls were waiting in the corridor and when they were all assembled, they were marched off to their new quarters.

They were now to be housed on the first floor of a wing of the house itself. And outside the door of their room, Father Burton was waiting for them. He had a large book open in front of him and before they entered the room they were asked their names and he recorded them. She was no longer Number Three; she was Paula again. There was one more ritual to be observed, their metal collars were unlocked and removed. All of them flexed and rubbed their necks as the weight and constriction were removed. They were all fitted instead with soft leather collars which buckled on. Almost literally light-headed Paula entered her new quarters.

They were to live in a long room with all ten beds standing along one wall. Opposite them were washbasins, and above those was one long mirror. At the far end of the room were toilets and showers, all of them open but no-one cared. It was a room, not a cell. The beds were arranged in pairs with five-foot high wooden partitions between each pair. Paula wasn’t surprised to see from the rings and chains that they would be imprisoned at night, but felt comfortable with that. She wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep in freedom anymore.

But best of all they were allowed to talk. At last they found out each other’s names and as they crowded in front of the mirror they caught up on weeks of forbidden chat. Mainly it was that day’s events which occupied them however. The mirror was big enough to reflect them all from head to waist and they compared the marks of the various whips which had been used on them, turning and twisting to look at breasts, backs and buttocks. It was the first time that Paula or any of them had seen their own bodies so clearly in the aftermath of a beating. They were all fascinated and Paula could see that same pride which shone in her own eyes, reflected in nine other pairs. There were jars of the same cream they had used in the cells and they all helped one another rub it into their cuts and bruises. The girl who had caused trouble on their first day and whose name was Caroline, now helped Paula by attending to the marks of the cane on her buttocks, and she returned the favour by helping her reach weals which stretched across her shoulders and down her back.

It was only later that night, just before she fell asleep, when Paula realised that only a few weeks before, she and these girls would have been on opposite sides of the law. They had despised and hated each other. But now they were her companions and she had stronger links with them than with anyone else in the world. They were links that had been forged in pain and which now held them together in the pride of total submission.

Sister Helen, a slender brunette who moved with the grace of a dancer came in and gave them their clothes. The shifts may have been simple but they were well enough cut to fit each girl’s figure snugly and they fell on them with cries of delight. Paula found the sensation of cloth against her skin very strange for some time but also found herself looking forward to having something to remove before the next man required the use of her body.

Later they were taken to the main dining room. It was a huge panelled room with a long top table at which the brothers and sisters ate. Then there were shorter tables set at right angles for the novices and initiates. The sister on duty stood at one end of the serving counter. Paula learned that they would no longer have to repeat their submission out loud but they would still be beaten. However a tawse rather than a crop was used.

When it was her turn Paula laid her upper body down on the table, as she had seen the others do and hitched up the short dress to bare her buttocks. The tawse made a satisfying smack as it landed on her and she felt a wide swathe of heat spread over her cheek, mingled with a sharper stinging. Each girl got two on each cheek. Back in their room the girls found that it left wide red patches with white stripes like finger marks within them. But it was less severe than the crop and left the buttocks clear to take a lot more if required.

While she ate Paula watched the initiates take their beatings and envied the elegance with which they were able to do it. The short, slightly flared skirts of their dresses were very easily flicked up as each girl bent over. And she noticed how their heeled shoes emphasised the length of their legs curving up gracefully into the swell of their taut buttocks. She watched entranced as the tawse slapped down and sent little ripples running through the flesh.

The sight gave her the answer to her earlier uncertainty about what the future held for her now she had come full circle.

She wanted to be an initiate. She wanted to wear that uniform.