Church of Chains (3 page)

The girl began to scream in earnest now but no-one paid any attention. Two brothers selected whips furnished with a score of lashes about two feet long and placed themselves in front of and behind their victim who was now writhing frantically.

“Beat her until she attains the silence of submission,” Father Burton said calmly.

The girl spat the vilest stream of abuse at him that Paula had ever heard from a female but then the punishment began.

Unhurriedly and keeping to a steady rhythm the brothers laid on the lashes. Because of the weight of the whips’ cords each impact made the girl’s body swing helplessly. She grunted at each heavy, smacking impact and tried in vain to twist and shield herself. At first her body only swung a little and for a long time she kept up her tirade. But slowly it faded into screams as the whips cracked down relentlessly leaving welts across her breasts and stomach, back and buttocks. Her body began to swing in larger arcs now. Paula tried to count the lashes but winced and lost track at about thirty when the whips began to lash the opened sex, leaving red marks on the insides of the thighs which became more and more livid as the punishment went on. Paula felt her stomach churn at the thought of those lashes slamming into the soft flesh of a female sex, mashing the labia against the delicate skin within and biting up between the buttocks to sting at the secret opening of the anus. At first the girl tried to get her hands up to shield herself but the remorseless beating sapped her energy and soon she was hanging helplessly again. At last the screams became pleas for mercy and then the girl, who was swinging like a pendulum now from one bout of pain to the next, was only whimpering, and finally there was silence. One of the men lowered her to the ground where she lay in a motionless heap. A bucket of cold water was thrown over her and she spluttered and stirred.

Hauling her up by her arms and dragging her on her knees, two of the men brought her to Father Burton. He bent down and grabbed a handful of hair, yanking her limp head back until she was staring up at him.

“You have no rights here. And the only law is God’s law, before which you stand condemned. Understand? Now be still and obey or you will return here for further correction.”

Father Burton smiled grimly as the girl managed a tiny nod. “Display her outside the cells for the rest of the day,” he continued to the brothers and they dragged her away.

Now Father Burton turned his attention to the terrified group who had witnessed the savagery of the punishment. He smiled bleakly. “Welcome to the Purification Class.”

Chapter 3

“You are here to be punished and reformed,” Father Burton went on. “Or as we prefer, rescued and redeemed. By your vile actions you have reduced men whom God decreed to be your masters, to the status of paying customers. You have taken what God gave you freely and made men pay for it. And the lure of the money involved in your filthy trade has brought lawlessness and sin onto the streets.

“Here you will be purified. You will be returned to your true selves and find again the joy of giving yourselves freely to your masters. And you will find joy in discovering how many ways you can please them. But you will suffer. Because it is only through suffering that true purification and redemption can be gained.

“All over the country our beloved Patriarch is setting up monasteries like this which will purify all those parts of our society which have become corrupt. We are but a small piece of a truly great plan.”

Paula watched in horror as a look of reforming zeal came over the Father’s face.

“But we will play our part! We will take you, and more like you, and turn you into decent women worthy of serving your men!”

In less than a day Paula had been abducted, chained, abused and beaten. But now she was really frightened. He meant every word he said and her only hope now lay in going so deep undercover that she forgot what she really was. All she could do was survive until help arrived.

“You are the lowest of the low within this monastery,” Father Burton went on. “When you have proved your worth—and only when you have proved it—you will be considered for the rank of novice. From there you will begin the long climb towards the rank of sister which is the highest honour, bar only one, to which a woman may aspire. And one day you may have the honour of meeting The Patriarch himself.” Father Burton stopped and swept his piercing gaze over his cowering audience. “You will call all men Master from now on, and serve them with your bodies and souls. Take them away Brother Davis.”

He turned abruptly on his heel and swept out.

Once again they were formed up in a line and driven back through the corridors, tormented by the whips cracking around their calves and thighs. Sometimes they passed one or two of the girls in white who stood aside and grinned as their sweating, struggling line passed by.

Eventually they reached their cells. Full-length iron barred doors fronted a row of tiny rooms on their left. On their right was a pillory. And facing the wall, bent over slightly so that her head and wrists were imprisoned by it, was the girl who had been whipped. Paula and the other girls stared. She was sobbing and her heaving back was covered by zigzagging welts which ran across her buttocks and thighs as well.

Brother Davis gave them time to take in the sight and let their panting subside then his assistants pushed each of them to stand against a door with their backs to it. He stood before them and in front of the girl in the pillory. He raised a hand and delivered two resounding blows to the quivering buttocks behind him. The fleshy smacks echoed and the girl shrieked and writhed.

“You’ll all suffer worse than this before we’re done with you. So get used to it. Remember the Father’s words; you’re here to discover how to truly please those whom God has made your masters.”

He landed yet another smack on the tormented girl behind him and grinned at her cry of pain.

“That pleases me. Do you understand?”

There was silence.

“I said, ‘Do you understand?’”

There was an uncertain chorus of murmurs, and then the whips of all three brothers went to work. One of them was standing beside Paula and she caught the worst of it. He swung at her naked and thrust-forward breasts, getting in a full-blooded lash before she could turn away. It was unlike any pain she had experienced up till then. A fierce trail of white heat shot through her leaving her helplessly gasping for breath and open for a second lash which cracked across her nipples. She screamed and spun round pressing herself against the bars, bruising the soft skin of her breasts again. She heard the whips being plied all up and down the line, each swish and crack being answered by shrieks and screams.

Just as suddenly as it had started; it stopped.

“Turn round,” Brother Davis ordered.

Slowly they all did so.

“I asked you a question. I expect a proper answer. I asked if you understood.”

This time there was a hesitant chorus of “Yes Master.”

Brother Davis nodded grimly.

They were each pushed roughly into their cells and their training harnesses taken off. Once a long loop of chain from a ring in the wall had been padlocked onto their collars, their arms were untied. Paula had to stand beside her hard little bed until all the girls were tethered and then she was allowed to lie down.

She lay for a moment conscious only of her nakedness and how the marks of the whip chafed on the rough blanket under her. The thought that she had been whipped went round and round in her head. It was scarcely credible. Only a few hours ago she had been a competent, independent woman and a police officer. Now she was a chained and naked captive at the mercy of brutal men who had hung her in chains, casually opened the most intimate parts of her body, made her perform oral sex and had whipped her. Her heart skipped a beat at the very thought of that outrage. She heard again how the lashes hissed through the air and how they cracked down on vulnerable female flesh. Her hand traced the welt left by the last lash she had suffered. It ran across her breasts and her nipples still ached and throbbed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Brother Davis. He opened her door and stepped into the tiny room. He said nothing but simply undressed. It had only been a matter of time, Paula thought, before it came to this. She watched him in silence and saw that he was muscular and lean. In particular she noted the broad shoulders and powerful chest, it was no wonder the whip hurt as much as it did when he swung it. His sex was fully erect already and this time Paula could see it clearly. How on earth had she managed to get him into her mouth at all? The shaft was thick and long, sticking up proudly from the thatch of dark hair at its base. Its head was huge and gleaming, she could almost taste it again just looking at it.

He came to stand over her and looked down thoughtfully. “Let’s see if you fuck any better than you suck.”

His words jerked Paula back to the very real danger of her position. To be a prostitute in these men’s hands was bad enough, to be a spy and at their mercy was unthinkable. She had to forget WPC Cheever; she was Paula the slut, the tart now. She fucked for a living.

She put her hands by her sides and opened her legs. He nodded and then knelt on the bed, astride her. His strong hands reached down and took hold of her breasts.

“Good big tits. I like that,” he said, and began to knead them, squeezing them and pulling them hard. Then he switched his attentions to her nipples and Paula gritted her teeth to prevent herself from crying out as he pulled hard at them as well and rolled them between thumb and forefinger. He revived the burning pain of the whip and kept on until at last he made her gasp and moan. Then he slapped them. Paula’s eyes opened wide with shock as he did it again, left and then right. The smacks echoed off the stone walls and she cried out again as he slapped for the third time, much harder and she felt the weight of her breast flesh sway across her chest.

Davis grinned as he lowered himself down onto her. “Nice hard nipples too. They’ll look good under the whip.”

To her dismay she realised that he was right, she could feel the tightness in her breasts now. And then his hand went down to her sex. His fingers roughly parted her lips and he felt his way up into her. She desperately tried to pretend that she was used to this, that men took her body for their pleasure every day. She opened her legs further and he began to toy with her clitoris. He was brutally rough, rubbing at it and flicking it then feeling up into her vagina again. She could feel his breath on her cheek, his weight was crushing her breasts and his hand went on and on playing with her. And at last, just as it had earlier, her body began to respond as though it had been bludgeoned into submission. Paula moaned as she felt herself moisten and a fire start deep in her belly. Davis felt her juices begin to flow over his fingers and he laughed softly. He shifted his position on her and Paula raised her hips to offer herself to his sex. It was what a good professional would do, she told herself and gave a throaty gasp as she felt him push into her and fill her passage. He began to move slowly inside her and she could feel her body try and grip his shaft. Suddenly he withdrew until only the head of his rigid member was inside her. Instinctively she arched her back and reached down to hold his hips and stop him from slipping out.

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 given 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.