by Bryan Caine
Slightly built, she looked sweet and peaceful in her black habit, and the face that beamed from the head covering was gentle and caring. She beckoned to Belinda, who tethered the horse by the trough and approached.
‘Please enter,’ said the nun sweetly. ‘Someone will care for your horse shortly.’
As Belinda passed through the solid door she was surprised to find so much light inside, due to the building being constructed around an open central courtyard with a latticed roof to help cool the heat of the day. There were cloisters around the perimeter and various rooms between the cloisters and the main walls. The room at the far end appeared to be the chapel itself as it was larger than the rest and was ornately decorated. Belinda noticed there was a distinct lack of religious symbols, but thought little of it. An enormously long table took up a lot of the stone-flagged courtyard, and there were many other nuns at work there. Some were scrubbing the floor, some were preparing vegetables at the table, and others were sewing or washing clothes. They whispered quietly to each other, and an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity pervaded the scene. For a second Belinda thought that if it were not for her family commitments she could have happily ended her journey right there.
The nuns appeared not to notice her arrival, until her escort addressed them in a crystal clear voice.
‘Sisters, we have a visitor.’
At that they all stopped what they were doing and excitedly gathered around Belinda. They were all of about her age and beautiful, but again Belinda saw little significance in this. She was amused rather than alarmed when they started stroking her body and hair with murmurs of admiration. They felt the silky blouse and the rich wool of her long skirt, and whilst there was nothing improper in their attentions, Belinda was more than a little flustered to find that the situation and the gentle contact was beginning to arouse her. She would not have felt so much at ease had they been men, of course. But they were all very sweet and gentle, and Belinda felt relaxed and at peace.
Suddenly the cooing and touching stopped as an imperious voice boomed, ‘I see we have been blessed with a guest.’
All the nuns turned and looked towards the chapel, where a large and older nun stood. She too was dressed in the same traditional black and white habit, but her higher rank was symbolised by a string of large rosary beads hanging around her neck and an enormous starched headpiece that projected in every direction. Belinda detected that the other nuns held her in a high degree of awe.
‘You are called?’ she asked Belinda, with a hint of a Spanish accent within a voice that was rich and deep.
‘No, no,’ Belinda replied hurriedly. ‘I’ve just crossed the desert and I hoped I might be allowed some rest and shelter here before moving on. My horse and I are quite exhausted.’
The gathered nuns giggled like excitable schoolgirls at this silly answer.
‘No, my child,’ said the dominant nun. ‘I meant, what are you called? What is your name?’
Belinda blushed deeply with embarrassment at her mistake as she told her.
‘Do you wish to sojourn with us a while, Belinda?’ the nun enquired.
‘Yes please, sister,’ she replied meekly, a little overawed by the woman’s presence.
There was a gasp from the nuns and one of them whispered sharply to Belinda, ‘Salmacis! The name is Salmacis!’
Belinda’s blush went from crimson to purple. ‘Sorry – Salmacis,’ she corrected the error in little more than a whisper. ‘I didn’t know that was your name.’
‘Do not worry child,’ smiled the nun called Salmacis. ‘We all make mistakes from time to time. That is, after all, why most of us are here.’ She clapped her hands sharply. ‘Sister Maria! Sister Dolores! Show our guest to a cell and make her feel at home. I will speak with you later, Belinda.’
The nun who had brought her into the convent and another one-stepped forward as the others drifted away, some with barely concealed disappointment. Obviously it would have been more fun to settle a visitor in than return to their chores.
As Salmacis swept away into another room beside the chapel Sisters Maria and Dolores guided Belinda to a small side room, which was indeed a cell. It was windowless and bare, with just a single narrow bed of rough wood covered with a thin blanket. The only light filtered from the central courtyard via a small barred window set in the door.
Once the door was closed the two nuns surprised Belinda by giggling and tickling her under the arms and on the back of the neck. In the half-light Belinda laughed at such good-natured fun, and didn’t resist when the banter resulted in her being pushed down until she was lying back on the bed. The skirt rucked-up and nimble fingers raced over her stomach and up and down her legs from booted ankle to knee. Belinda, not too sure about all this but wanting to be polite, tried to tickle them in return but they were too fast for her and kept skipping back out of range. After a few minutes she stopped trying and simply lay on her back smiling up at the sisters. The three of them were slightly out of breath, and a strange electricity suddenly filled the tiny room. The laughter subsided and the smiles faded. Each of them knew what was to happen next. Sisters Maria and Dolores moved in close again, but this time their twinkling eyes had a glint of desire and intent in them. It was a look that Belinda recognised, but instead of being alarmed she found her heart thumping with suppressed excitement. The two nuns knelt beside the bed as though preparing to pray.
She did not resist when the resumed tickles turned to sensual caresses on her legs. As before, they worked their way beneath the skirt from her ankles to her knees, but this time they continued their journey as they intently watched her for any reaction. Sister Dolores eased Belinda’s thighs apart and then cupped her vulva in her cool palm. She smiled slightly at Belinda’s tiny gasp of pleasure, and pressed a little harder. At the same time Sister Maria undid Belinda’s blouse and slipped her hands inside the silk to squeeze both her breasts. Though totally taken aback at this unexpected development Belinda smiled her sheepish encouragement, and urged her aching breasts up into the waiting hands. She suddenly stiffened and sighed, and Sister Maria licked her lips and watched avidly as her colleague’s hidden hands started to work beneath the skirt.
Just as Belinda was beginning to think she was about to embarrass herself by coming in front of two such devout young ladies, the hands between her legs disappeared. She could not deny her deep disappointment. But they quickly returned at the hem of the skirt and began to fold it back. First her shapely calves were exposed, then her perfect thighs, and then the skirt was raised above her waist to show her full glory; her gentle fold peeping from its nest of chestnut hair. All three females sighed heavily as Maria bent to suck Belinda’s nearest nipple into her mouth and Dolores stroked the damp chestnut curls with a strong middle finger. Once again Belinda soared towards her orgasm, and once again she was denied as the two nuns released her and swapped places. Dolores rolled Belinda’s nipples between her fingers and thumbs whilst Maria bent low again to run the tip of her tongue up and down between Belinda’s sex-lips until she was writhing ecstatically on the bed. She was loving the gentle female attention. Men had the advantage of possessing penises, but they all seemed to be so cruel. Some women were cruel too, she reminded herself, but nonetheless there was a tenderness about females in general that was appealing to her more and more.
Once again, and when she was least expecting it, the hands and mouth left her and the two nuns straightened up. They both gripped their habits and raised their eyebrows.
‘Yes…’ pleaded Belinda softly in answer to their silent question. ‘Please…’ She could not resist touching herself between her thighs as the habits slowly rustled higher and higher. Their thighs were like porcelain, and the tension had Belinda breathing deeply as the black garments approached crotch level. Feeling almost faint with excitement she held her orgasm back, ready to let it explode as soon as the erotic vision of the nuns’ vaginas came into view.
To Belinda’s eternal shame the only explosion that did come was caused by the cell door crashing open to reveal, framed in the doorway, a furious-looking Salmacis.
That evening at sunset the mortified Belinda was taken from her cell and delivered to Salmacis. The austere nun was sitting on a wooden throne in the room next to the chapel, which appeared to be there for private worship. Sisters Maria and Dolores were standing at each side of the throne, their heads bowed in shame.
‘You may leave us,’ Salmacis said to the nun who had collected Belinda. The door closed and the domineering nun sat studying Belinda for a long and unsettling period. ‘Are you ashamed of yourself, Belinda Hopeworth?’ she finally asked.
‘Why should I be?’ replied Belinda defiantly.
‘Because you enter our home,’ her tone was strong but calm, ‘and within minutes you are frolicking with two of my sisters.’
‘They started it.’
Sister Maria looked up. ‘That is not true, dear Salmacis—’
‘Silence!’ snapped the nun, raising her hands. ‘I will not have such bickering in my house!’
Belinda had nothing further to say. She fiddled uncomfortably with the front of her skirt.
‘Kneel,’ ordered Salmacis with undeniable authority. Belinda was about to ask why she should do anything she was told, when she decided it would probably be better to appease her quickly and then get away as soon as she was able. She knelt just in front of the nun’s knees with her head bowed. From beneath her eyelashes she saw the knees part. ‘Come closer…’ she heard. She hesitated a moment, and then shuffled forward until surprisingly sturdy thighs gripped her sides. Her breasts squashed against the seat of the throne and hands lay her head on the lap against which she was tightly pinned.
‘You know you must be punished for your wantonness, don’t you?’ came the rich voice. So should the two nuns, thought Belinda, they started it all. She tried to respond but the hands held her head firmly, and when they sensed her resistance subsiding they gently stroked her hair. ‘It is for your own good.’ The voice was almost hypnotic. Belinda breathed deeply and relaxed. She sensed movement, and then felt her skirt being raised. The still air was cool on her thighs and bottom. She knew what to expect, and clenched Salmacis’ habit in readiness.
With the first blow she jerked forward and her breasts squashed into the apex of Salmacis’ thighs. What had hit her she knew not, but the pain was terrible. The second strike dragged a scream from her lungs. From their rapid delivery she guessed that both nuns were beating her with individual implements. Tears sprung from her tightly clenched eyes and dampened the habit beneath her flushed cheek. The blows continued, and all the time the hands caressed her hair. The bizarre contrast between affection and brutality made her emotions spin. She gripped the habit even tighter in her fists until the colour drained from her knuckles.
Gradually, through waves of conflicting emotions, Belinda became aware of a tiny swelling beneath her cheek. What it could be she had no idea, but the size and pressure was definitely increasing steadily. So distracted was she by it that she did not realise the punishment had ceased until she heard Salmacis dismiss the two nuns in a tone charged with emotion. The door opened and closed for the second time, and the room was left still and quiet.
‘Belinda,’ Salmacis whispered, ‘we are alone.’ The pressure of the thighs increased and the hands left her hair. ‘We have a few moments together before I must take evening chapel.’
Belinda didn’t know what to expect next, and decided it would be safest to remain curled up and quiet. The heat from the lump beneath the habit was getting stronger against her face. She became aware of the black habit being tugged up.
‘Although you are a promiscuous sinner,’ continued Salmacis, ‘I will allow you to rest in my house for tonight.’ The habit inched higher. ‘But I expect you to be gone by first light.’
‘Thank you,’ whispered Belinda into the dense fabric.
‘And in return you will now show your gratitude. I have little time, so make haste.’
‘But what do you want of me?’
Suddenly the habit was tugged away and a relatively small but stiffly erect penis sprang against her lips. Belinda shrieked with horror, but a hand instantly clamped over her mouth to silence her. As she relaxed slightly the hand cautiously released its hold, but the hairy thighs maintained their embrace.
‘Do not be alarmed!’ hissed the freak as he cupped her cheeks and stared into her wide eyes. ‘Yes – I am a man! And because I need to dress as a woman I have been pilloried and run out of more towns than you could ever imagine!’
Belinda couldn’t speak. Never before in her life had she seen or heard of such a thing.
‘My nuns know what I am – and they still love me.’ Once Salmacis could see she wasn’t going to scream or struggle he continued. ‘I see in your eyes great compassion, Belinda.’ One hand slipped furtively to the back of her head and pressed so gently she barely noticed. ‘I sensed it the instant I first set eyes on you. Do not forsake me out of ignorance. Do not forsake me like all the others.’ As Belinda continued to stare confusedly up into the hypnotic eyes the other hand gripped the base of the rigid cock and aimed it at her slightly parted lips. ‘Do not reject me, Belinda…’
The pressure increased further and Belinda’s astonished face sank until her nose nestled in thick curly hair. Her mouth was filled with stiff flesh and his male musk invaded her nostrils.
‘That feels good, child,’ croaked Salmacis as he lifted and lowered her head. ‘Use your feminine magic on me. Prove to me your compassion – time is short.’
Utterly bewildered, Belinda sucked and licked instinctively. The room was now filled with her wet sounds and his heavy panting. Her face was lifted and lowered time and time again. Her lips slid tightly up and down the shaft, and little pools of saliva dribbled down to his balls.
From next door came the muted sounds of the young nuns gathering in the chapel for evening service.
‘You are doing well, child… you will soon be rewarded.’ With that he pushed her back onto her haunches and grappled frantically with the buttons of her blouse. She knelt without emotion as he tugged and pulled at her. When open he ripped the blouse free from her skirt, pulled her forward roughly, and moulded her perspiring breasts around his standing erection. ‘Now…’ he hissed, his bloodshot eyes bulging demonically. ‘Here comes your reward for having faith in me… I shall anoint you.’ He stabbed his hips at her a few times and then spat his seed into her cleavage. A second barrage spattered her throat and chin, from where it dripped back onto her sensitive breasts. His thighs almost squeezed the very breath from her lungs as he arched and quelled a scream of undiluted passion. Belinda knelt, unmoving and devoid of feeling, as he used his deflating penis to smooth his cream over her breasts and nipples.
Gradually Salmacis subsided into the throne and regained his composure. He arrogantly wiped his small penis on her silk blouse and straightened his habit as though nothing had happened between them at all. ‘Very good. You may return to your cell. You will find soap and water and food there.’ He grinned sardonically. ‘Never let it be said that we at the Convent of the Sisters of Little Mercy are not hospitable.’ Belinda stood and walked to the door without a word. As she opened it Salmacis casually called after her, ‘Remember, you are to be gone before first light. And if you tell any one of what has gone this evening I will know and will personally hunt you down and kill you.’
Chapter Thirteen
Belinda was drowning, caught in a fast current flowing between sheer rock walls, just thirty minutes after leaving the irregular convent.
She had emerged into the approaching dawn unhindered by any of the nuns, and was annoyed to see that her horse was still where she had tethered it by the well, in spite of the nun’s promise that someone would attend to it. She picked up a dry rock and hurled it at the white
wall in anger and frustration. It crumbled ineffectively into dust upon impact.
Using the rising sun as a navigational aid, she had found that she did not need to return to the main trail that she had followed across Death Valley, but could continue her journey by following the track alongside a river gorge. She knew she needed to be on the other side of that tight ravine, and was pleased to see a small bridge just ahead.
Halfway across the span, with the foaming water flowing briskly twenty feet below, the horse suddenly whinnied and reared up. Belinda too gave a shriek as she saw a coiled snake immediately ahead, its head raised and its hideous rattle vibrating threateningly. The panic-stricken horse tried to turn on the tight bridge as it reared, and before she could react Belinda found herself sliding off its back over the parapet and into the torrent below.
Now she cursed the heavy riding skirt as its weight kept dragging her down every time she fought her way to the surface to gulp some air. Her boots didn’t help either, and the confusion and spinning of her body made it impossible for her to get rid of those hindrances.
She knew she was finally about to die when she felt an iron-like hand thrust between her thighs and grip her crotch. Another clamped onto her left breast and twisted agonisingly. They could not be real, just a deadly delirium caused by lack of air and too much water, and she emitted a terrified sob. Even in her last moments her imagination was subjecting her to one final abuse. Just as she prepared to release her slim grasp on life itself she was hauled to the surface and dragged against the side of a large canoe. The hands adjusted their position and supported her under the arms, and she looked up into the beaming face of a giant with a mass of shocking red hair. The freezing water swamped her again and she fought to breathe as an identical but slightly smaller giant joined the other and beamed down, before they effortlessly dragged her over the side of the vessel and spilled her into the bottom. She lay coughing and spluttering for some time, gasping to fill her burning lungs and not daring to believe that she had really been saved.