Church of Chains (4 page)

Swish! Smack!

“Three!” There had been a gasp this time before the count. The lash had landed low down on the buttocks and Paula could imagine how it must have snapped round and bitten into the front of her thigh.

The fourth lash moved higher and wrapped round her waist, the tip of the lash must have cut into the soft skin of the lower stomach as it made the girl writhe and twist desperately before counting in an anguished yelp.

Paula couldn’t take her eyes off the slim form as its struggles increased under the steady punishment. At times the hips were twisted so far round as the girl tried to spin away from the previous lash that the next one cracked home on ribs and belly.

These were much harsher whips than Paula had seen before and by the seventh lash the girl was heavily marked and screaming continually. The sister moved close in front of her to make sure she was still counting. After the ninth lash she held her hand up.

“No count!” Father Burton announced calmly. “Repeat the stroke!”

Paula knew she should be horrified at this cold cruelty, but found that instead she was horribly fascinated. How much could a girl take? What other refinements could these men come up with to prove their complete mastery over the girls?

The ninth lash was duly repeated. It was delivered low down, where the buttocks joined the thighs. The girl shrieked and managed a count before slumping in her chains.

The sister stepped forward and held something to the girl’s face. It must be smelling salts, Paula thought as the girl struggled back to consciousness.

Quite deliberately the punishment continued. Slowly the lashes were applied farther and farther up the girl’s back which arched in agony as she tried to press herself against the upright post of the T, her body making futile attempts to escape the pain.

The fifteenth lash must have cracked around her ribs far enough up for the braided leather to have curled across her breast. She arched and twisted in silent anguish before slumping once again. And again she was revived to suffer the last six lashes, capable now only of hoarse yells at each crack of the whip, exhausted writhing and whispered counts.

When at last it was over, Paula swallowed, suddenly aware that she had been so riveted to the scene in front of her that she had hardly breathed and her heart was hammering. The girl crawled away from the post on all fours and was ignored. Paula’s eyes followed her though; unable to tear themselves from the sight of the dark lines snaking almost right round the body. It was as if the whip had been searching for the intimate places where previously Paula might only have thought of a lover reaching. In some of the places though, the harsh caresses of the whip had split her skin. Paula watched her until she collapsed by the wall and a bucket of water was thrown over her. The water cascaded off, tinged pink from where she had bled.

In the meantime the second girl had taken her place at the whipping post. She was condemned to only ten lashes for some trivial misdemeanour and took them stolidly enough. She was a more heavily built girl and only the final three lashes brought cries from her.

The first two victims had been novices, but the third was an initiate. They were the more senior girls and allowed the white dresses which Paula had seen that morning. She stood accused of failing to obey one of the sisters properly. Father Burton sentenced her to fifteen lashes. But as she was senior, he decreed that she was to be turned round at the post.

A murmur went round the watching girls. Paula glanced about her and saw an unmistakable look of excitement on the faces behind her. Maybe they were just glad it wasn’t them out there, she thought, but she knew her own reactions went deeper than that.

The girl was tied with her back to the post, her arms pulled painfully back and out which left her breasts and the full expanse of her belly terribly exposed to the whips. But she faced her coming torture with a bold, almost challenging expression. In fact Paula could almost have sworn that she smiled at one of the men before the first lash cracked across the bush of hair at her pubis and she stiffened as if an electric shock had gone through her. She counted the strokes of her punishment in a clear voice despite her gasps and screams.

As they watched the heavy cords of the whips bite into and then fall away from her breasts, it seemed incredible that she held onto consciousness until the tenth lash despite her body’s frantic attempts to twist away from each blast of pain. Again the smelling salts brought her round and she made it through without passing out again. But like the first girl she collapsed when she was taken down and had to crawl away to be doused in water.

When the punishments were over, Paula felt as if she had been through an emotional wringer. She was horrified, excited and exhausted all at the same time.

The last thing she saw as they were marched back indoors was the whipping post being put away. The three girls who had been flogged at it were now struggling to lift the upright out of the hole into which it had been sunk, and carry it away to its storage place.

As someone who believed in authority and order, Paula couldn’t help feeling admiration for how thoroughly the Church of Ultimate Purification set about its work.

Chapter 5

Paula’s group stood in front of their cells. For the first time both their wrists and ankles were free, although the collars and restraints stayed on. But no thought of anything other than the release of exhausted sleep was on their minds as they listened to Brother Davis.

He told them that they would remain naked until they attained the rank of novice, at which time they would be allowed to wear a simple brown shift. They would have no name until then either; they would wear the number of their cell instead, which would be clipped to their collars on an inscribed disc. One of the brothers passed along the line attaching them. Paula’s number was three; she could feel no outrage at this further humiliation only a resigned acceptance of the Church’s remorseless programme of suppression.

She did however groan when he told them that numbers one, two and three, were required in the house before they would be allowed to sleep. Numbly she watched as the other girls were put in their cells and chained for the night, then the three who had been picked were marched off with two of the brothers keeping watch. There was the small relief of having the simple liberty to move her hands now, and she tried to look around her as they went. She thought they passed the door of the Punishment Wing but the maze of passages and the number of turns they made soon became too much to remember. At last they arrived in front of a closed door and were halted. The door was opened by one of the sisters. She was a tall, dark-haired woman and as Paula looked at her she was surprised to see that the plunging neckline of her blouse, which revealed the smooth skin of her cleavage, also revealed the stripes of a whipping. But the woman herself carried a whip. Clearly the hierarchy of the monastery was complicated and Paula found her tiredness dropping away to be replaced by curiosity.

The brothers left them and the woman took over, leading them through carpeted passages which were lined with items of antique furniture and pictures.

She took them up a huge staircase and then stopped in front of another door.

“You will all be called on to serve in the Lounge regularly,” she told them. “We women do not merely pay lip service...” she smiled at her own joke, “to the teachings of the Church. Here you will be tested on everything you will be taught. Here you will serve your masters.”

She opened the door and Paula saw that here indeed were the masters and here was the future they had in store for her.

The room was luxuriously appointed. The carpet was a deep crimson, large leather armchairs were grouped around tables and the walls were covered in bookshelves. At the far end was a kind of bar, from which some of the initiates were serving wine. The brothers, some thirty of them Paula thought were sitting and relaxing. Some were playing cards, some smoked and some were fondling the girls. Dotted amongst the men were the sisters, who appeared to be treated as equals. In the centre of the floor stood two girls. As they were naked, Paula had no way of gauging their rank but she gaped at them. They stood back to back with their legs spread wide apart and their anklets chained to eyebolts the floor. Their forearms were folded and bound together behind their backs, with the added refinement that a leather strap had been looped tight in their hair and pulled taut before being tied off to the bonds on their arms. Their heads were thus forced back onto each other’s shoulder and they had no choice but to stare at the ceiling. Paula took all this in and let her gaze move down over the rings at their nipples until she saw their sexes and then she shuddered. Each lip of the sex was pierced by a ring and each ring had a taut chain attached which ran down to the wide-spread ankles where it was clipped onto the restraints. The labia were wrenched wide open and stretched. In a motionless tableau the two girls stood, helplessly offering up their breasts and sexes to whoever wanted to casually enjoy them.

The sister gave them a moment to look around then chivvied them over to the bar. Here she gave them small aprons which barely covered their own sexes and really only served to tempt hands to lift them and explore, as Paula found out. A silver tray with delicate chains attached to the bottom was fastened to each girl’s right wrist and they were simply ordered to serve.

As soon as Paula’s tray was attached she saw a man beckon her over. Her heart sank, it was the brother who had said he would have her himself. Fortunately he was fully engaged with one of the initiates for the moment. She was curled in his lap, her white dress hiked up over her naked hips. As Paula approached she saw that one of his hands was exploring deep in her sex. The girl’s arms were wrapped around his neck and her tongue flicked teasingly at face and neck. He told Paula to fetch him wine and she returned to the bar, pouring him a glass and then placing it carefully on her tray to carry back. When she returned Brother Davis had joined him and as soon as Paula bent over to place the glass on the table, she felt his hand run over her buttocks and then slide between her thighs. She felt her blood begin to pound as she recalled how arrogantly he had taken her earlier and then remembered herself just in time to open her legs wider for his foraging fingers.

“She’s a classy bitch alright,” Davis said, as his fingers parted her lips and began to find their way up into her. “She’s got a bit to learn with her mouth though.”

His companion laughed. “Then let her see how it should be done,” he said.

He took his hand out of the girl on his lap, who moaned as he did so. “On your knees and give this one a lesson,” he ordered. With no hesitation she slid down in front of him and began to undo his trousers. He smiled up at Paula and held out his fingers which glistened from the juices of the girl who was now beginning to run her tongue slowly up and down the shaft of his erection.

“Clean them,” he told her. Paula felt Davis’s eyes on her and knew the whip wasn’t far away. She bent over and took the fingers into her mouth, running her tongue around them and getting her first taste of another girl’s arousal. It was pungent and musky, not unpleasant she was surprised to find and certainly better than another beating.

They made her stay and watch while the initiate took a long time swirling her tongue around the tip of the brother’s member, dipping her head every now and then to let him find the depths of her throat and then returning to patient licks and kisses until finally he pushed his pelvis forward and grabbed a handful of her hair. All the time Brother Davis kept his hand working at Paula, ignoring her clitoris but pushing his hand into her vagina and then withdrawing. She found at last that she could no longer resist the inevitable excitement deep in her belly and felt herself begin to moisten. She was helpless, a captive; there was nothing she could do about it so nothing was her fault. They were the only law here and she had to accept it.

Through half-closed eyes she saw Davis’s companion begin to buck and thrust into the girl’s mouth and Paula knew that she herself was moaning even as he cried out and spurted himself into her throat and Davis’s hand allowed her nowhere to hide her pleasure.

For what seemed like hours Paula and her two companions were kept busy, scurrying back and forth. She lost count of the hands which stroked her buttocks and pushed casually into her sex, not caring whether they excited her or not, only interested in the pleasure it gave them. And under so many anonymous hands, she herself became anonymous. She was simply a body to be used, and she submitted quietly when one of the brothers who had been fondling her ordered her to kneel in front of one of the chairs. She offered him her buttocks and opened her legs immediately, recognising him as one of the men who had administered the punishments. The leather of the chair was cool and smooth under her body as she pressed her breasts down onto it. The brother who wanted her had been idly rummaging his fingers inside her for some minutes and his member now slipped easily into her wet vagina. The constant handling of her breasts and sex had left Paula in an almost permanent state of arousal, and now at last her impatient channel was filled and she felt it eagerly gripping the shaft as it pushed into her and began to steadily ream her out. Bright shafts of pure pleasure lanced through her every time it rammed in, never had she experienced anything so intense. But then never had she been so aroused for so long, so constantly and arrogantly handled, so frightened and so abused. The fires in her belly grew and she gasped in delight when she heard his body slap against hers and his member seemed to penetrate to the neck of her womb. Urgently, she moved her hips against his thrusts and ground hard against him when he pressed in. She was just as helpless impaled on his sex as if she had been tied for his whip. And that thought made her moan as his thrusts became harder and faster. It was her second rape and she was building towards a devastating climax, surges of primal joy making her cry out as she juddered and writhed under the assault of the sex which was piercing her so ruthlessly.

Suddenly her hair was grabbed and her head pulled painfully far back. She found herself staring up at Davis who regarded her coolly as she undulated and writhed, finally crying out joyfully as she felt her climax break over her and the man’s seed flood into her. Davis didn’t let her go until the man had withdrawn and she moaned again as he left her empty. He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re a whore alright. I wasn’t sure for a while, but you’re a whore right enough,” he said and let her head fall back.

Dazed from her orgasm and petrified to learn how close she had been to disaster she got to her feet and resumed her duties. She felt the semen begin to trickle down her thighs as she served more wine to a table where one of the sisters was sitting. She got a ringing smack on her buttocks from her.

“Wipe yourself you slut. Why d’you think you’ve got an apron?” she said.

Without even thinking about it, Paula opened her legs in the middle of the room and did as she was told, pushing the cloth back between her thighs and wiping it along the groove of her sex, pressing it in hard to soak up the sticky emission. She was acting the part of a complete whore and doing it well, she told herself. She lost count from then on of how many men took her, but was grateful they all wanted her sex rather than her mouth.

Each of the men drove her to an orgasm, and the harder they drove her the more she came. Totally beyond caring for anything except the next brutal assault from hands or cocks she tottered from table to table, burning and sore. But time and again she knelt, straddled a lap or bent over a table. She heard the amused comments as she moaned and sighed out her climaxes. The tiny apron became sticky and crusted with semen as she wiped herself with it after each man had finished. And when it seemed that she would surely collapse from exhaustion, the games began. The two girls held imprisoned in the centre of the room having been ignored all night now became the centre of attention. Paula watched as two of the initiates were singled out. Each initiate knelt in front of a girl and at a signal from one of the men began to lick at the wrenched open sexes before them. The object was to see which initiate could get her girl to climax first. They played the best of three, laughing as the wretched prisoners moaned and writhed futilely in their restraints while the tongues of the kneeling girls flicked and probed, licked and rasped. Paula had never seen a woman having sex with another woman, but she was so tired she couldn’t be shocked, just glad of the rest it gave her aching body. But as each of the prisoners came to a shuddering climax, then relaxed back into their chains while the relentless assault of the tongues continued, Paula was amazed to find her own sex quivering and spasming in sympathy with the ones being so expertly teased into repeated orgasms.

After one of the girls had stretched rigid, shuddered and screamed at the third orgasm the game was over. And now Paula and her companions became the centre of attention, and while the brothers and sisters cheered and laughed they were ridden round the room. Freed of their trays they crawled on all fours while various brothers rode on their backs and spurred them on with their heels kicking at the girls’ thighs. They rode them until they collapsed, their hands and knees burning from the carpet. One of the sisters stood over them as they lay huddled and gasping on the floor and plied her crop a few times but although they stirred and moaned they couldn’t go on. Paula let the pain rip across her bottom and thighs. It was worth it just to lie down.

Reluctantly the game was abandoned and they were left to lie where they had collapsed. At long last Paula heard people begin to drift away and a man’s shoe prodded her in the ribs. He told them to get up and slowly they staggered to their feet. The girls in the centre of the room had been taken down and had gone. The brother who had made them get up now took them back to their cells. In the corridor outside the Lounge, Paula saw several of the brothers entering what must have been their rooms. Some of them were taking sisters with them but the initiates had gone. Staggering with weariness they made the long walk back.

Once in their cells their wrists were locked to their collars and their collars chained to the wall.

Paula slept immediately.