Rough wood scraped the nipples of her bare titties. As the young nun slowly regained consciousness, it felt like splinters were being driven into the tops of her thighs and tits. Her body was arched at the waist into a half of a circle with most of the weight on her stomach. Nothing seemed natural. Neither her hands nor feet were on the ground, but both felt completely bound. She tugged at them and nowhere gained an inch of slack. All that she managed was to increase the push on her abdomen and heighten the pricking of her tits.
Slowly she opened her eyes. She was draped over some kind of wooden barrel, her wrists bound by chains to the floor.
She tugged with her feet. They, too, were clamped into place. The bite of iron cuffs into her ankles made her quickly stop the painful attempt.
The barrel was three feet in length with her wrists and ankles bound near the ends. It wasn't stressful for her arms, but it forced her legs wide apart. Her position on the barrel left her ass hanging high and open, with the cool air of the dungeon playing along the inside of her thighs and across her exposed asshole and cunt.
The new position frightened her even more than she had been before. At least when she had been chained to the floor, she had been able to see what was happening around her, but now all she was aware of was the shuffling of bare feet on the stone floor somewhere to her rear.
Suddenly a line of intense fire ignited across her bare ass cheeks. Burning agony streaked from one cheek to the other and Mary Celeste screaned from the pain of her ass. Then another trail was seared across her naked hips, crossing the first one at a thirtydegree angle. She felt as if she had been branded with a fiery "X" on her ass. A whoosh in the air behind her, followed by another searing mark told her what was happening. Someone was behind her, lashing her exposed ass with a whip.
The knowledge didn't help diminish the pain. If anything, it heightened her fear. The only other time she had ever been whipped had been with a cane by the mother superior at the convent during her novitiate for being caught fingering her pussy one long and lonely night. That time she had barely been able to walk for days, and the searing marks on her ass had burned for hours long after the beating was through.
"Oh, please don't!" the young sister wailed as another line of fire cut across her tortured ass cheeks after the whip had cut through the air.
Her protests seemed to increase the blows rather than slow them, and the whip rained down upon her red-streaked skin. Each lash was new agony for her already-abused ass, and the louder she screamed in pain, the closer the rain of fire seemed to come. With tears streaking from her eyes, Mary Celeste bit down on her lower lip and slowly choked back her shrieking protests.
The whip fell still. Somewhere waiting where she could not see were new thunder and lightning to torture her.
When the storm broke over her again, the location had moved. Now it was the backs of her creamy thighs that exploded as the whip found new, uninarked skin. The lash walked down her legs, forming a ladder of seared marks into her flesh until Mary Celeste burned from the top of her ass clear down to her toes.
Then it stopped again, as the tortured sister sobbed, tears flowing down her cheeks to stain the raiment of her religion that still clutched underneath her chin. Then the shuffle of bare feet on the stone at her side told her that her abuser was about to show his face.
Luke showed her even more. He was still naked and his lean body towered over her upraised eyes. His enormous cock still raged long and hard as it had been before he had stuffed it down her throat. Apparently the blood that engorged his prick was stimulated by that the whip had left on her ass.
"Welcome back," he giggled evilly at the distraught nun. "You fell asleep on us while I was still fucking your throat and I don't think that's very nice." He waved the black buggy whip under her nose to make his point. "Anymore sleeping on duty and I'll have to try out each of these things. There's at least twenty or thirty of them hanging there on the wall."
"Please don't," Sister Mary Celeste whined pitifully, her ass and legs still hurting as if on fire.
"You don't like it then," Luke laughed, popping the shaft of the whip down into the palm of his hand. "I was afraid that maybe you had grown to love the taste of the whip on your bare ass. I've heard stories about what goes on in those convents and I've always figured they were true. What else but a bunch of masochistic lesbians would consider locking themselves up where they couldn't get any prick?"
"No," Mary Celeste protested, but thoughts and memories were trying to crowd themselves into her mind.
His accusation came too close to what she had feared somewhere in the back of her mind for so long, and just enough had actually happened at the convent to lend some reality to those fears. She, herself, had entered the sisterhood of cloth as an escape from the guilt of having sucked her own father's prick, but doubts remained with her about the motivation of some of her sisters, particularly those who had been in the order for years and seemed to seek out positions of authority over the young novices. Even the actions of her own mother superior and some of her teachers had left her very much in doubt.
One night in particular burned in her mind, brought back by the accusation of the lewd man who threatened her and by the pain now coursing through her own ass and legs.
It had been less than a week after her own beating. All of the young initiates were tiered in seats on one side of the largest meeting room of the convent, called from their nightly prayers in their own cells to watch the punishment of Sister Beatrice. She was perhaps the youngest of the young, a meek girl who appeared to Mary Celeste to have been barely mature enough to be seeing the last of her years of mandatory school.
As soon as the gray novice robe of the frightened Sister Beatrice was pulled from her body, a hush fell over the crowd.
She was naked except for the mantle of her habit. Beneath the robe, there had been nothing, not even the coarse cotton panties and bra the novices had been given to wear. Naked, she looked as small as a bird quivering on her knees in front of the towering black-clad mother superior. Pale, thin legs held her upright on her knees on the stone floor, and skinny adolescent arms hung loosely by her side as if denied he opportunity to cover her nakedness.
The tits on her girlish chest were little more than small mounds, barely more than upturned teacups of trembling flesh tipped by immature nipples. The trunk of her body was almost straight – no womaniy curves had begun to form there – and the cunt hair below her stomach was barely more than a wisp of brown through which the lips of her pussy mound could be seen.
A cranking sound had reluctantly pulled Mary Celeste's eyes away from that captivating vertical gash and she saw a heavy horizontal wooden beam slowly being lowered from the ceiling. Two heavy metal clamps dangled from its middle at the end of short chains, and, as the other novices watched, two of the older nuns moved to the center of the room and lifted the frightened Sister Beatrice upward to clamp her hands into the irons. Then her feet were locked into two others bolted to the floor almost a yard apart. Then the cranking sound renewed and the beam was slightly raised, pulling the naked immature novice nun six inches into the air.
The sound of turning chains stopped and a hush filled the room. Not even the sound of one breath could be heard. For long seconds, everyone was still all eyes feasting on the naked titties, pussy, and ass of the painfully stretched young girl in the center of the room.
Then movement. The mother superior rustled in her traditional black habit over to a small table while the two older sisters reached up and stripped the veil and mantle from Sister Beatrice's head. Brown hair, the color of that which lightly brushed her pussy, was revealed, but it was cropped close to her head. Less than a half-inch remained of the long tresses that had fallen to the center of her back the day she had entered the convent. It made her look even more naked and vulnerable, a quivering, shaking form suspended in chains, awaiting a punishment that all of them knew would be brutal.
The two older nuns faded to the side as the mother superior returned to face the young girl. The leader of the young nuns moved like a threatening dark cloud, and in her right hand was a wicked-looking black riding crop that none of the novices had tasted before.
"Look upon her," the older woman said, lifting the whip high into the air as she addressed the rest of the crowd. "See the way of extreme repentance that is necessary for the sin of defiance and disobedience! Know that the path leads here for those who do not follow the orders of your mother superior and the nuns who assist her in teaching!"
With a quick move that swirled her robe, the mother superior swept behind the chained girl and whacked the riding crop sharply across the upper part of the naked back. The whip cut the air with a whistle that could be heard from the seats, and it smaked into Sister Beatrice's back with a wet crack. An angry red line traced across her pale skin beneath the shoulder blades, reaching from one of her sides to the other.
"Aeeil!" Beatrice screamed and thrashed nakedly in chains. The muscles in her hips and shoulders knotted as she strained to twist herself away from the pain. But the iron clamps dug into wrists and ankles and, already, the chains were pulled tight. All that the girl managed to do was spread more pain to her arms and legs.
The riding crop whistled again and cut a crimson path across the back of the young girl's waist. Her entfre body arched away from the blow, her stomach thrusting outward to lift shaking titties high into the air. The riding crop whisked again through the air and slashed the boyish assheeks, and this time the slightly furred cunt was thrown forward with her hips.
Beatrice wailed with each cascading blow, still twisting against the cuffs and chains until the skin of her wrists and ankles turned an angry red. Her ass was now a criss-cross of welts and her back was marked in a pattern of plaid. As the blows continued, they seemed to get harder, as if the mother superior was becoming more excited with each blow. Each time she lashed the naked flesh of her young charge, her arm lifted high into the air to increase the bite of the whip.
The backs of Beatrice's thighs were now being battered, beaten until they were scarlet with darker red lines that showed where the whip had landed. First both thighs together were lashed, then each one separately with the tip straying dangerously close to the spread asshole and cunt of the young girl.
Finally it happened. As if aimed, the very tip of the riding crop slaped against the underside of the lips of the pussy gash as the shaft struck the bottom of one hip. Everyone in the room had been waiting for it to happen, and, when it did, there was a large collective gasp.
"Aee!" the young girl screamed, her entire body going as stiff as an iron rail.
Mary Celeste's pussy clenched tightly, as if it too had been struck. Juice poured out of her young cunt and greased the outer cunt lips, wetting the faint hair beneath her robe. Her panties were so wet that she thought she might have pissed sitting there watching the brutal scene.
Again the whip landed, this time on the underside of the other hip, but still with the tip snapping into the young nun's cunt. The screams that ripped through the air of the convent were like those from a sinner burning in Hell, and, with each new slash against the tortured pussy, the shrieks increased.
All of the young novices were stirring uncomfortably in their seats around Mary Celeste, so no one wonid notice that she was rubbing her confmed cunt and ass roughiy against the wooden bench. Her own pussy felt on fire, just like the girl's in chains, and she felt like she, too, was tasting the bite of the whip. Her panties were a sopping niess from pussy cream that continued to flow from her cunt, but her eyes and mind were so locked onto the tortured, naked girl in front of her, that she never questioned why. Her own body felt as if it was popping back and forth between the benches and the chains, and that part of the blows were landing on her own flaming cunt. Each time the tip of the riding crop bit into Beatrice's tortured cunt, Mary Celeste's pussy clenched.
Whack!
The tip of the riding crop smacked into the brown rosebud of Beatrice's puckered asshole. Mary Celeste saw the crop land, and her own shitter clutched as if trying to hold back a flood. If even the narrowest pencil had been jammed up the opening, it would have been crushed as if in a vise.
Whack!
The tender asshole of the young nun was shocked again. Mary Celeste gasped. The blow had been so brutal that the tip of the whip almost penetrated Beatrice's tight little shitter. This time the riding crop was slow to come back, probing at the brown asshole before it was returned to the air. The mother superior leaned to her right and slashed again, this time with the crop almost vertical.
The crop smashed in on the tortured female body, following the crack of her ass. The shaft smacked across the shithole while the tip landed wetly into the young girl's cunt. The end disappeared into Beatrice's wet, pain-swollen pussy lips, and it was several seconds before the mother superior dragged it out. The tip glistened with pussy juices that had been tortured out of the young girl and left a glistening strip when it was dragged across the cheeks of her ass.
For a minute, Mary Celeste thought the beating of the sobbing, naked nun was finally over. The mother superior walked around in front of the chained girl and seemed to study the exposed tits and cunt. Then she stepped back.
"It's not complete!" the older woman proclaimed as she lifted the whip into the air again.
Sister Beatrice tensed in horror now that she could see the instrument of her torture and she watched it with bulging eyes as it whistled toward her tits. Her scream choked off into a gurgle as a crimson line was etched into the young nun's titty flesh. Both of the immature mounds caught the taste of the whip and jerked crazily from its shocking kiss.
Mary Celeste's hands unconsciously sought her own tits. Beneath the robe and bra, her fingers could feel the distended nipples where they poked outward swollen and firm. She rubbed them through the gray cloth as if trying to push away the pain from the lashed titties she watched. Then, suddenly, she was aware of what she was doing, and quickly glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.
No one was looking her way, but Sister Mary Celeste was still startled by what she saw. Her reaction had been a common one. Almost half of the young girls in novice gray around her had at least one hand on their own tits. A few hands were in laps with the gray robe bunched up tightly between legs as those novices rubbed their pussies through the cloth as if that could somehow soothe the pain of the tortured young girl.
The sound of the continued beating pulled her eyes back to the center of the room. Beatrice's immature tits were now a cross-hatch of angry red, and welts had begun to grow on her stomach. Mary Celeste's right hand sought her own abdomen, rubbing where the blows now rained on Beatrice, as her left hand stayed with her tits. And, as the whip turned and began to beat into Beatrice's almost-hairless cunt, Mary Celeste's right hand bunched her robe and began to stroke the source of her own torture. Even the robe was now wet from her spreading fuck juices, but so was the girl's next to her. It felt right – it was the only way she knew to share the torture of the young girl.
Mary Celeste didn't remember the blows ever ceasing, or what happened much after them. All around her, hands were stroking as her own hand rubbed her tit and cunt. All eyes were still locked to the flashing whip as it beat into the young girl's pussy, but whether it stopped there or continued on, her own aching cunt didn't let her know. All she remembered was finally being led from the room, her cunt feeling almost raw beneath robe and panties.
If that was all that happened that night, perhaps she could have put it aside and dampened any fears or doubts with the belief that it had all been in sympathy with the tortured girl. The mother superior could have remained just a figure of authority who had adrninistered a beating, and there would have been no further uncertainty about what her true motives had been.
It hadn't ended, however, with just that on that night. And it was what followed that caused her rapist's words to burn so deeply.