by Sean O'Kane
He laughed again. “I think a few tastes of the whip have done wonders for you,” he whispered. Paula couldn’t pretend any more. She was being raped but she didn’t care. She just wanted the release which she knew was coming at any moment. He rammed himself back into her, sinking in up to the hilt and making her cry out. He did it again and again. Her arms were wrapped tight around his broad back now and her legs frantically gripped his thighs. Waves of pure sensual joy began to flood over Paula and she urged him on. Brother Davis began to grunt with effort as his pelvis smacked against her. Frantically she snapped her hips up to meet his thrusts and drive him in even deeper. And at last she felt the waves break, sweeping her away, aware only of his cry of ecstasy and his seed spurting into her.
He rolled off her before she had even stopped panting and shaking under him and dressed quickly.
When he stepped out into the corridor he shouted to all of them.
“Get some rest sluts. You’re going to need it!” Then he left without even looking at her.
Paula lay dazed and sweating. It was the most devastating orgasm she had ever had and it had been with a brutal man who had insulted her body and hurt her at every turn. Paula closed her eyes in despair. Her first day of captivity wasn’t even over yet and already she felt a million miles away from the person she had been.
Chapter 4
They were woken by Sister Lavinia running a riding crop along the bars of their cells.
“All of you up. Use the toilets and stand by beds!” she yelled.
Paula found her chain was long enough but realised that as the doors were the full width of the cells there was no privacy. Davis’s semen had dried and crusted on her thighs, she longed for a shower. The brothers re-appeared and unlocked the doors while Paula was still sitting. The one who unlocked her door lingered and smiled at her while she wiped herself, knowing that nothing could be hidden from him.
“Brother Davis tells me you’re a nice tight little piece. I think I’ll try you myself later on, we don’t get many come in like that,” he said.
As she stood up, shame and fear making her tremble, he entered and bound her forearms behind her back again and released her collar from the chain. But at least there was no training harness. When they all stood outside their cells again and the girl had at last been released from the pillory, Brother Davis told them that the harnesses would be reserved for wearing after a punishment. They would be taken for their evening meal now, he said.
At a walking pace this time they were led to a small room with a plain wooden dining table in the middle. At one end stood Sister Lavinia. At the far end there were steaming pots of food with thick slices of bread beside them and a pile of bowls. The smell was delicious. Paula couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten and her mouth watered instantly.
They were lined up along one wall and Paula could see that all the girls were staring hungrily at the food. But Sister Lavinia pulled a bench away from one wall and set it by the table, then she stood beside it and flexed her riding crop. Paula’s heart fell. She was sure they weren’t going to be allowed to eat just yet. And the Sister’s words confirmed her worst fears.
“Before you may eat you will come to me and say, ‘I am grateful for my rescue. I submit myself completely to the rules laid down by the Patriarch.’ You will then be beaten and allowed to eat.”
There was stunned silence as her words sank in. Paula stole glances to her right and left. She saw the others swallowing as fear and hunger fought for control. The choice was stark; either submit or starve, and from what she had seen of the Church she had no doubt that if they didn’t submit they wouldn’t eat. To her own surprise she stepped forward.
Brother Davis untied her arms and told her to approach Sister Lavinia.
“Mealtime beatings are routine. We leave them to the sisters,” he told them all.
Paula did as she was told and faced Sister Lavinia.
“I am grateful for my rescue. I submit myself completely to the rules laid down by the Patriarch.”
She was amazed at how easily the outrageous words came to her. But after all, she told herself, she had to survive somehow.
“Bend over the bench,” Sister Lavinia told her. She was made to straddle it and then bend down to place her hands on the seat. Paula was acutely aware of how she was exposing herself to the eager gazes of the brothers and could feel the soft lips of her sex pushing back blatantly towards the audience. The crop tapped impatiently at the insides of her thighs and Paula realised she was being asked to display herself even more by opening her legs wider. Would Brother Davis be able to see the remains of his ejaculation still on her skin? She altered her stance and then cried out in shock as the first cut of the crop whistled in. It was a much sharper pain than the whip and she went up on tiptoe and wriggled her hips to try and disperse the intensity of it. The second cut made her draw her breath in with a hiss between clenched teeth and she danced on her toes. The Sister gave her time to settle down before she delivered the third and fourth cuts which left her gasping and blinded with tears, but at least she was able to walk stiffly to the food, help herself and at last, eat.
Paula was amazed at how good the food was, a thick warming stew which put new life into her and made the stinging pain in her buttocks recede a little. As she ate she watched the others gradually succumb. A halting procession of girls approached the bench and bent over. She was amazed at the variety in the size and shape of buttock which was presented and found herself fascinated by the way the soft flesh rippled and the bodies jerked under the stinging cracks of the crop. Some of the girls were plainly overweight and it bit wickedly into the pillows of flesh. At one point she looked away from the scene to find that Brother Davis was staring at her from where he lounged against a wall. He grinned knowingly and she looked down at her plate hurriedly. The next time she looked up she was amazed to see that he was standing beside Sister Lavinia with one hand inside her blouse massaging a breast while one poor girl remained bent over waiting for her beating.
The last girl to give in was the one who had been suspended and whipped earlier. Paula could see her bottom lip trembling as she approached the sister. In a very small voice she said the words and bent over. The other girls went quiet, waiting to see if there would be any allowance made for the livid stripes she already carried. Paula bet there wouldn’t be.
The girl was tall and her buttocks stretched into tight curves when she bent over. From where Paula sat she could clearly see the lips of her sex nestling in the hollow at the top of her thighs. With a tightening in her chest she saw the stripes from the earlier whipping running across flesh which was now being exposed for further punishment.
Paula found she had stopped eating and was staring, spellbound at this display of control by their captors. No-one forced her down; they didn’t need to. They had subdued and manipulated her so completely that she was volunteering to suffer this time. In silence they all watched as the crop hissed through the air and smacked down regardless. Once again the girl shrieked in agony and after two strokes begged for mercy. Sister Lavinia told her there would be none and delivered the last two lashes just as hard. The girl cried openly as she limped over to the food. Very gingerly she sat down and tried to eat. Watching her Paula was shocked to find herself wondering how much easier her job as a policewoman would have been if she had been able to mete out such treatment. She reckoned the brothers would have no more trouble from her.
When they had all eaten they were formed up in a line and chained together. This time their wrist restraints were simply clipped together behind their backs. But a link of a long chain was clipped to the rings of the restraints worn by the girl at the head of the line and then passed between the legs of the girl behind her, looped through and around the steel rings of her restraints and then through the legs of the girl behind her. This was repeated all along the line until the chain was finally attached to the last girl. There was a space of four feet between each girl but once they were giv
en the order to march it became very clear that they would all have to stay in step to avoid painful tightenings of the chain. Paula concentrated grimly on the legs of the girl ahead of her and matched her pace carefully. Unfortunately the girl behind her was not as quick a learner as she was and Paula got some agonising jerks on the chain as she got too far behind or stumbled. The chain would tighten, pull her hands back from her body and yank at the length of chain running from the girl ahead of her. That chain in turn would snap up between her sex lips and cause her to wince in pain while having a knock-on effect up the line.
After a painful few minutes they all began to realise the importance of staying in step and the cries of protest and pain became less frequent. Paula had been concentrating so hard that it came as a surprise to find that they had been led out into the courtyard and were now ordered to a halt.
She looked around in amazement. Never had she seen so much naked female flesh. Every girl in the monastery had to be there she thought. They stood in neat rows with one of the brothers in attendance on each row. In the centre of the huge courtyard there now stood a T shaped whipping post and beside it stood Father Burton.
Brother Davis came down their line. “The Church requires healthy minds in healthy bodies,” he said, “so we attend to both. When Father Burton gives the signal you will run and you will keep running until I tell you to stop. As you are new arrivals you will run in chains.”
Paula groaned. Just walking had been hard enough!
Suddenly there was a shrill blast from a whistle. It was the signal and the three brothers in attendance on their line immediately began plying their whips. Paula was next to last in line and caught several lashes around her calves.
Obediently she lifted her knees and tried to trot in step with the girl ahead of her. This time if any of them made a mistake it resulted in much fiercer jerks on the chain and for several minutes there were cries of pain all up and down the line as they struggled to organise themselves while the whips curled maddeningly around their legs.
At last though they managed to settle into a rhythm and the crack of the whip came less often. Paula had always worked out two or three times a week apart from swimming and running, and once the chain had stopped cutting up into the tender flesh between her thighs she was able to look around. All the girls were running. They formed an orderly line around the perimeter of the courtyard. The brothers stood on the inside of the line to make sure they ran the whole way round. Paula had never seen so many breasts bouncing so vigorously or so many naked female thighs and buttocks all quivering with effort as the girls pounded the earth grimly while their masters’ whips sang and cracked in the air. Sometimes the crack was of leather on skin if one girl was thought to be flagging.
And it was fatigue that now became the main enemy. Some of the girls in Paula’s line had obviously never run so far in their lives. By the end of the second circuit she could hear their breath rasping and their pace began to slow. The whips began to torment them again. Their line alone had brothers jogging comfortably alongside them and now they started spurring them on in earnest. Paula could hear her companions gasping and crying, and then the girl behind her fell. There was a massive pull on the chain anchored at her wrists and she had to stop. There was no time to brace herself before the chain to the girl in front tautened violently. Paula screamed in agony as the harsh steel chain bit into the softness of her sex and so did the next girl on and the next, until the whole line was stationary. Roughly the faller was pulled to her feet and taken out of the line. Then the rest of them were whipped up again.
Three more times that was repeated before five circuits had been completed and they were allowed to stop. They stood panting and sweating with their heads hanging. The four girls who had fallen were kneeling by a wall and Brother Davis promised them extra sessions of exercise until they could keep up. The rest of the girls did five more circuits before they too were allowed to stop.
They were given time to get their breaths back before the next ritual took place.
“Form up for punishment!” Father Burton shouted. Immediately the girls all formed into two rows and stood with their legs apart and hands behind their backs. Paula’s group were prodded and pushed to the front and made to kneel down. They found they were directly in front of the whipping post. Paula sensed a curious atmosphere around her, half fear and half excitement. Suddenly the door to the Pen was opened and a line of three girls was led out by a sister. They were chained together by their collars. When they stood in front of Father Burton he read in a clear voice from a clipboard in his hand.
“Novice April Anderson. Failure to please a Master sufficiently, second offence. Twenty lashes.”
A sound like a cross between a sigh and a groan rose from the watching girls. But one of the brothers only had to turn slightly and it stopped. The girl, a blonde with a slender boyish figure, was unchained and led by a brother to the post. Her arms were raised and spread along the cross bar of the T and her wrists fastened to the chains which hung from it. Her body was pale and vulnerable, the long line of her back curving out gracefully at the waist to her hips and tight little buttocks. Her back was facing the audience and her fair hair hung down it. The brother who had chained her pushed it forward over her shoulders. Then he stood back and flicked out the long whip he held. On the other side of the girl a second brother did the same.
Paula felt that strange surge again that she had felt in the dining room. Here was a helplessly exposed female about to suffer a prolonged flogging but she hadn’t struggled or protested in any way. The control these men had was absolute.
She felt again the tightening in her chest as she anticipated the whipping she was about to witness.
“Stand by,” Father Burton said to the sister who had led out the victims. Then he turned to the two brothers by the whipping post. “You may begin,” he said.
They took it in turns, one laying on a lash from the left, one following it up from the right. As an added refinement which made Paula’s pulse race with its sheer cruelty, the victim was made to count the lashes she received.
As with the whipping administered in the dungeon earlier, the men took their time. They set up a steady rhythm which allowed the girl to count the last lash and prepare for the next one.
Swish! Crack!
“One!” The count came in a steady voice but they had all seen how the body had jerked against the post as the whip had curled round her buttocks and bitten into her hip.
Swish! Crack!
“Two!” From the right this time. Again the girl jerked convulsively but counted steadily.
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.