Church of Chains (16 page)

At last she heard him groan and she held still for a second. He had his hands gripped on her hips and she could feel the handle of the riding crop rubbing on her skin there and the tip pressed against her ribs. But now it was lifted away and she licked her lips in anticipation.

“I’m going you ride you now you bitch!” His voice was hoarse with excitement.

“I’m going to fuck you and whip you at the same time. But you can come and you can scream all you like.”

He lashed down with the crop which caught her diagonally across her back and left a stripe of delicious pain stretching up from her lower ribs on one side to her shoulder on the other. But at the same time he slammed his pelvis against her and Paula felt him thrust even deeper inside her. Before she could even cry out in response to the first blow of crop and sex, the second was on her. Again the crop smacked across her back and again he drove into her with a force which set the flesh of her buttocks trembling. This time she cried out and lifted her head from the quilt to breathe in deeply. She could feel the fires beginning to rage out of control inside her. She had permission, and she was being fucked and whipped at the same time!

She screamed each time he lashed her and drove his sex into her. Frantically she shoved her hips back at him each time. She wanted him in deeper. She wanted the lash again. She got both, time after time it seemed. The livid pain across her writhing back joined with the molten cauldron boiling in her sex and she even heard herself begging him to go harder. And he did, until he was ramming into her so fast he couldn’t wield the crop any more and just grabbed her hips to brace himself. She reared up and yelled as she felt him begin his release inside her. He grabbed a handful of her hair to brace himself better and that triggered the final explosion. In a frenzy of pumping and writhing their orgasms burst over them and they fell sideways onto the bed, Brother Davis’s hand still clenched in Paula’s hair.

Back in the novices’ room, Paula lay face down on her bed while Linda rubbed cream into the weals left by the crop and the cane, and Paula told her that she had finally learned this ultimate obedience. She wouldn’t be going back to Solitary again. Caroline looked over the partition when she had finished.

“So how did you manage when you were on the game?” she asked.

Paula tensed immediately. It was so long since she had thought about her cover that the question caught her by surprise. She played for time.

“How do you mean?”

“You couldn’t go off like a bloody firework display with every punter. You wouldn’t last two days if you did. But up till now every time one of the masters lays a finger on you, you go off like there was no blue touch paper.”

Alarm bells were ringing in Paula’s mind. But Linda interrupted. “What’re you trying to say Caroline?”

She came round the partition to stand beside Paula’s bed. “All I’m saying is she’s a bloody funny one to be on the game at all. I mean who was your pimp? We were all with Lucky right?” She looked round at the other girls and there was a murmur of agreement, even from Linda who stood up and moved away from Paula. “So who were you with? You don’t look like one of us. You don’t even talk like one of us.”

“I didn’t have a pimp. I was on my own and I’d just started.” Paula tried to keep her voice calm and sat up to face Caroline.

“No. I don’t buy that. Lucky wouldn’t have stood for it. And how come you’re so sodding good at the kitchen work and dancing and all those things. You’re too posh to be a tart.”

“I’m no better than you!” Paula retorted hotly.

“Maybe not better, but you’re different. I don’t know what you were, but you weren’t one of us.”

Paula knew she had to stop this before it went any further. There was only one way, and even then she had to be very careful. She jumped to her feet and pushed Caroline hard so that she staggered back.

“Listen you stupid cow. I worked on my own right? Just because you were too thick to keep the money you...” It had the effect she wanted and she got no further. Caroline went for her. She had no science and Paula had to be careful to use none herself. Caroline leaped for her hair and yanked her head back so that they both fell onto Paula’s bed. Her fist slammed into Paula’s right breast and she gasped at the pain, but managed to bring her own fist round and into the other girl’s stomach. She heard her grunt and the grip slackened on her hair. Paula took advantage and turned the tables by grabbing hers and pulling her head back to get on top of her. But she wasn’t finished and as Paula straddled her she used the opportunity to bring her knee up into Paula’s groin. It was a telling blow and knocked the wind out of her, making her double over and loosen her grip on Caroline’s hair.

Now Caroline wriggled out from under her and began to rain blows down on Paula’s back as she curled protectively round her pain and tried to get her breath back. They were wild blows but hurt nonetheless. Suddenly Paula uncurled, flung her arms round Caroline’s waist and pushed, sending them both crashing onto the floor. Caroline clawed at her face but Paula grimly got a hold on one of her breasts and squeezed savagely, digging her nails into the soft flesh. She screamed and tried to pull away, but Paula followed and let fly with a well aimed uppercut which slammed up between her legs and into her sex. That knocked the fight out of her long enough for Paula to turn her over, straddle her back, get one of her arms twisted up behind her and then, holding that with one hand, reach round and get a forearm across Caroline’s throat and pull upward. She squatted across the naked back and for a second allowed herself to enjoy the helpless wriggling under her. Then she leaned forward and said, “If you work on your own. You learn how to look after yourself.” She released her hold, stood up and just had time to be puzzled by the looks of terror in the other girls’ eyes before she saw Brother Gibson.

They both spent three days in the Punishment Wing, in solitary confinement and were sentenced to ninety lashes.

Paula had had to blink back tears of dismay as she heard the sentence. Surely no-one could take that many? She had caught a glimpse of Caroline’s face as they were led out of Father Burton’s office. She too was pale and swallowing hard.

They were locked in different cells after repeated questioning had failed to drag from either of them the cause of the fight. They had stood before the Father’s desk in the ‘open’ position and he had lashed the fronts of their thighs and their breasts with a crop. When that had failed Brother Gibson had slapped them both hard across the face repeatedly.

Paula knew that gang loyalty would keep Caroline silent. The church had forged them into a unit and although Caroline had been beaten in a fight it had been done fair and square. The others might distrust her, but if there was to be any revenge; then they would do it themselves. For the moment she was safe. That only left the punishment to deal with.

She was tied face first against a stone wall with her arms and legs splayed. Her collar was chained so tightly to a ring slightly above her that she had to turn her face sideways. Her ankles and wrists were tied to rings with leather straps to keep her pressed hard against the stone and her labia rings were chained tightly to her ankles while her breasts were squashed painfully to the stone. She was taken down once a day for food and allowed to use a filthy pile of straw as a toilet. She was beaten three times a day by Father Burton. He used a very whippy cane and he used it across her shoulders and back as well as her buttocks and thighs. In silence he delivered ten lashes at a time, three times a day for three long days.

Paula learned something new while receiving the ninety lashes. Her reactions to being beaten depended on the sexual context. Father Burton entered her cell in his robe with his hood pulled up and the cowl hiding his face. He looked terrifyingly like a figure from the Inquisition. The cane he used hung by a short leather loop from a hook right beside Paula. It was no more than six inches from her outstretched right hand and she had no choice but to look at it during the long hours between beatings. But despite this cruelty she experienced nothing but pain throughout her ordeal. There was no stimulation; her body shrank in fear before the figure of Father Burton and before the prospect of the cane whistling across her defenceless flesh. And in her isolation and fear she could derive no pleasure at all.

After the very first lashing Paula thought she would die before she could complete her sentence. Just ten strokes had reduced her to whimpered pleas for mercy as her back seethed and boiled. And there were eighty lashes to go. Eighty! It was inconceivable! Under each beating she screamed until she was hoarse. And the agony grew worse each time, as new stripes were laid over old. She shook and trembled with exhaustion at the end of each lashing but had to watch helplessly as the Father’s hand replaced the cane. Then he left her, unable to do anything other than stare at it and contemplate the agony of her next instalment. By the end of the second day, even when she was taken down, she could hardly move for the pain. And there were still thirty lashes to go. It was a mountain she couldn’t climb.

On the third day she passed out halfway through the midday beating. She was left to come round in her own time. And when she blinked her way back to agonised consciousness, Father Burton stood exactly where he had stood before. And he carried on. Paula stared in wide-eyed horror at the cane when he left. There were ten more lashes to go, and she knew she couldn’t survive. She shook and trembled uncontrollably. A whole afternoon lay ahead of her in which she could only await an agony she didn’t think she could take.

On her final beating she begged him for mercy before he started. He listened to her pleas and promises in his usual silence, but when she had stuttered and sobbed her way to a halt; he began. She could hardly scream any more and simply cried as slashes of unbelievable agony ripped over her. He took a long time delivering that final ten, giving her plenty of time to recover before laying on the next lash. It extended her torture and made sure she stayed conscious. Towards the end, in the long pauses between lashes, she felt something warm slowly oozing over her buttocks and shoulders. She realised that the skin had split at last. And when he replaced the cane she could see that it was smeared with red.

They were released that night but only allowed to return to their quarters when they had mucked out their own cells. Paula saw that Caroline was filthy and bedraggled, her head hung down and there was no fight left in her. I must look the same, she thought, and she determined never to go through anything like that again. Briefly the girls’ eyes met and Paula could see that the same thought was in both their minds.

Back in the novices’ room, there was complete silence when they entered. The brother who had escorted them left them at the door. They had both had trouble walking up from the Punishment Wing. They were stiff and racked with pain, as well as being weak from hunger and exhaustion.

Paula looked down the length of the room at the showers. They were one of the most welcome sights she had ever seen and she began to limp towards them. At exactly the same time Caroline did as well. They glanced at each other and slowly exchanged rueful grins, then they helped each other along. There were gasps and cries from the others as they passed and the extent of their punishment became plain. They stood next to each other while hot water washed over them and helping hands soaped carefully over their cuts.

Linda gently rubbed cream into the lesser of Paula’s bruises when she finally eased herself down onto her bed. Nothing was said but Paula knew that although Caroline might have sown some seeds of distrust, it was a private matter; something between the members of the group. Both she and Caroline had kept faith despite the punishment.

It had cost her a lot but she had weathered the crisis.

Chapter 18

In the days that followed, the only concession made to the severity of the punishments which Paula and Caroline had suffered was that they were allowed extra rations at mealtimes to build their strength up again. They still had to take their four strokes of the tawse however.

News of the fact that they had been sentenced to ninety lashes must have gone round like wildfire Paula thought, and the dining room went silent at the first breakfast after their release. All the girls, including the initiates Paula noted, turned to look as Caroline with Paula behind her reached the sister on duty. Caroline stood hopefully in front of her for a second.

“What are you waiting for girl?” the sister asked coldly.

Paula saw Caroline’s shoulders slump. Slowly her hands fumbled her dress up to her hips and she bent over. The sister wasn’t satisfied and hiked the dress up farther to reveal the whole of her bottom. Paula heard a few stifled gasps from the initiates and for the first time wondered whether anyone had ever been sentenced to so many strokes of the cane. Caroline’s bottom was a network of narrow, livid ridges and in places there were long scabs beginning to form over the cuts. The sister flexed her tawse and Paula could see her considering where to lay her blows. Caroline’s hands were gripping the edges of the table so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Quite suddenly the sister lashed out and the tawse smacked across the middle of one buttock. Caroline let out an agonised screech and her back arched. The sister struck again on the other buttock and again Caroline screeched, but this time there was an audible sob at the end of it.

Paula swallowed hard. Caroline had come through everything she had and this was obviously just as bad as anything they had suffered to date. She felt tears come to her eyes. It wasn’t fair! They had had their punishment. Why were they being punished all over again? The answer was obvious really, she thought gloomily. It was so that the others could see, so that no-one would ever dare to do anything like it again. She was roused from her thoughts by the third smack of the tawse. The sister had hit lower down on the buttocks and Paula could see that it had overlaid a place where two strokes of the cane had already crossed. Caroline cried openly and then wailed as the fourth smack came down on a similar place on the other buttock. She stood up shakily and went to get her food, wiping at her eyes.

Paula felt the whole room’s attention now focus on her as she bent over and pulled her dress up. Like Caroline she gripped the edges of the table as hard as she could and gritted her teeth. The first stinging smack brought instant floods of tears to her eyes and it was all she could do not to scream. It revived all the agony of the caning and added its own distinctive broad sweep of fiery pain. The second one had her breath hissing out between her clenched teeth and her hips wriggling. The third and fourth simply made her scream with all her strength to try and dissipate the agony.

She, like Caroline was shaking and crying at the end. She wiped furiously at her eyes to try and see her way to where the food was. But once she had collected it and gone to her place, both she and Caroline had to stand up to eat.

As she ate Paula looked around at the other girls. Some of them were staring at her and Caroline with expressions of contempt. It was as if they were saying, ‘that’s what you get for being that stupid’. On the other hand some of the girls were looking at them with open admiration. Paula presumed that they were admiring the fact that the two of them had taken so many lashes. But underlying both reactions Paula could see the undercurrent of fear and awe at the devastating retribution which the masters had exacted.

For the next week, at the end of each meal, Paula and Caroline were made to strip and adopt the ‘open’ position by the door of the dining room so that all the others filed out past them and could get a good long look at their ravaged backs. Owing to the constant beatings with the tawse however, the damage to their buttocks was very slow to heal and it was nearly a fortnight before they could approach mealtimes without fear and trembling.