Church of Chains

by Sean O'Kane

  “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 corrid
or, 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.

  Chapter 13

  They were lined up outside their cells for the last time. But for the first time in weeks they were chained together as they had been in their early days, with a chain running between their legs and fastening to their wrist restraints behind them.

  “You’re going before Father Burton, and you’ll have to prove to him that you’re purified and ready to serve the Church, so you’ll come before him in chains. If you let us down, then pray to God for help. Now move!” The brother in charge cracked his whip around the legs of the girl leading and suddenly the mood of excitement turned to one of apprehension.

  They were turned to face their right and told to walk. It took a little practice and a few painful jerks of the chain before they got back into the swing of keeping in step. Paula couldn’t help feeling a slight pang as they left their cell corridor for the last time. She had been reborn here, and reborn as someone she would never have dreamed that she really was.

  They marched through corridors which were now familiar, past their dining room and the Punishment Wing but then they were turned to their left and taken into the courtyard. And here they saw Brother Davis and Sister Lavinia returning from a mission to pick up the next intake of girls off the street. There was the white van which Paula had almost forgotte
n, its doors were open and the girls were being taken out.

  The van must have been farther a field this time because it had returned much later in the morning than it had when they had arrived. Paula’s group was told to halt and they were allowed to see the huddled line of bewildered girls, gagged and cuffed, just as they themselves had been, take their first look around them. Paula exchanged knowing grins with her companions, she knew they were thinking the same as her; that they would love to be on hand to watch this lot get their first taste of real discipline and hear them squeal.

  They were allowed to watch until Brother Davis had herded them to the Pen and then they were taken on into the house itself. They entered by a large, imposing door through which they had never been before and found themselves at the back of the main hall

  Normally they either went down from here to the small chapel for prayers or, in the evening they were taken upstairs to the Lounge. But today they were taken down a long passage on the ground floor and at last ushered into a huge drawing room with a vaulted stone ceiling. Here they were halted once again. They were unchained from each other but their hands were kept locked together behind them. Their guards had them kneel down and shuffle on their knees until they were face to face with the wall on the left of the room. Paula could smell the faintly musty odour of old stone as her face touched it and felt its cold strike into her breasts as they too made contact. In front of, and slightly above each girl was an iron ring from which hung two slender chains and Paula noted that each chain had an alligator clip at each end.

  They were told to part their thighs and one of the brothers began to run another chain along the line. It was anchored to a further ring set at one end of the line and at the height of their loins. He set about passing it through both of the rings which hung from each girl’s labia. He took his time and repaid them for their flirtatiousness earlier. He let his fingers stray as he reached round each of them and parted their lips to stroke and flick at each clitoris until he had made it erect and eager for more. Then he moved on leaving the girl to moan quietly and contemplate an arousal for which there was no fulfilment.