Church of Chains (20 page)

Margaret was covered in sweat, her hair was soaked and matted, her gleaming body heaved with sobs and gasps of agony and the aftershocks of ecstasy, but Lavinia noted the small nod of complete agreement when she laid out her plans for her. Then she slackened off the tension slightly and left her for the night.

The next morning Lavinia began by coating a huge dildo with a special cream which would irritate and burn the tender membranes of her rectum. She pushed it roughly up into the tight anal entrance, and then shoved again until it was fully embedded in the body. Almost immediately, Margaret began to buck and squeal. Lavinia had quite a struggle to move her back to her chains and tie her so that she could constrict the bases of her breasts with straps. But she had time to recover and watch as Margaret writhed and arched under the twin torments, screaming till she was hoarse. At last the breasts were just in the right state for her to begin, an angry and congested purple colour. She used the crop on them again. And when she had finished she decided that it was time to apply the final touch. Margaret was beyond words now, a limp and savagely marked figure hanging in chains. It would take only Lavinia’s last cruelty to make her feel that she had been well enough punished. Two of the brothers came to help and the three of them mounted Margaret on her back on an X shaped table, whose arms supported her limbs and trunk but left her head hanging down and her sex available between her wide-spread legs. The sight of Margaret’s devastated body and her own panted admission as she was tied down that if she was whipped as hard as she deserved to be this time she would confess, had both men eagerly erect. They positioned themselves one at her head and one at her crotch.

“Beat me and fuck me hard! Hard as you can... I need it...” Margaret gasped, lost in a delirium of humiliation and submission, as she saw what was in store for her. She managed one last shriek as Lavinia began, but then could make no more noise.

Lavinia stood beside her exposed crotch, stomach and cruelly striped breasts and wielded a heavy crop in a steady rhythm of Swoosh! Crack! Margaret’s body bucked wildly at each impact but one of the brothers had rammed his erection into her gaping mouth while the other had pushed himself deep into the moistness of her vagina. In a parody of passion the body on the table shook and rippled under the triple impacts of the two men thrusting and the whip lashing across her. Lavinia had counted only ten lashes before one final spasm ran through Margaret, bowing her tortured body up off the table and locking it rigid for a long second while the men both released themselves into her and pumped their hips mercilessly at her helpless form and she passed out.

As was her custom, Lavinia had worked naked. Now the sight of Margaret’s final torture had her breathing hard as her stomach rippled and churned with need. Her left hand made its way down to her crotch and she gazed longingly at the men.

“Brothers, I must confess too. I harboured thoughts of delaying her confession so that I could enjoy myself, while the Patriarch waited.”

The brothers smiled at her. And while Margaret lay unconscious they put her in the ankle pillory, one which Paula had never experienced, it spread the victim’s legs to a joint cracking extent. But before they hauled her up they tied her hands behind her and anchored her wrists to a chain which was mounted in the centre of the beam of the pillory, and then they shortened it.

As a result, when she was hoisted up, Lavinia’s body was bent back in a taut bow as she hung head down. They pulled her up to a height where her mouth was available for use, and while she sucked eagerly on one brother, the other plied the whip on her stretched stomach and breasts. But once the brother who was using her mouth began to thrust into her to achieve his release the other shifted his target and lashed Lavinia between her legs, bringing the whip slamming down onto her open lips and fetching muffled squeals of agonised ecstasy from her as she drank in the spend which flooded her throat.

Then the men changed places and repeated the process, laying on another ten lashes after the second dose.

And when Lavinia had shrieked and shuddered her way through forty lashes they let her down and released her to lie in a delighted and sweat-soaked heap beside her victim who still hadn’t stirred.

Some minutes after the men had left, Lavinia climbed slowly to her feet and dressed, then she held smelling salts under Margaret’s nose till she came round, huddled on the floor.

“Now then Margaret my little bitch. Crawl to me and lick me or I might put the gag back and carry on.”

Finally Margaret shook her head.

“No, no more,” she groaned. “Not yet.” She crawled to her new mistress and kneeling up painfully began to lick at Lavinia’s crotch, while she held her skirt up. Margaret put her tongue out as far as she could licking at the livid traces of the whip and passionately tasting the juices which were seeping from the vulva and licking at the hardened clitoris until Lavinia groaned in delight.

Lavinia stroked her matted hair while she worked; “Now we both know what we like, don’t we Margaret?”

Margaret broke off long enough to whisper, “Yes, mistress.”

And when she had at last satisfied her, Lavinia let her confess everything and there was a lot that even Paula didn’t know, involving corruption and perjury apart from blackmail.

Paula sat in her chair by the infirmary window and gazed down longingly over the courtyard. They had put bars up at the window and the door was locked and guarded, but she was mending fast and wanted only to be back in the monastery again. But she never would be, she knew that now. She was different from the others after all. She could see Caroline and the rest of her group, wearing the longed-for white dresses of the initiates now. She herself was kept naked until the Patriarch decided what to do with her.

She heard the bolts on the outside of the door being pulled back and the key turning in the lock. The Patriarch entered and Paula immediately stood and adopted the respectful pose she had been taught. As always he moved with economical grace and the bearing of one born to power and crossed the room to stand in front of her.

“In the Inner Circle Paula, you kneel with your legs apart and your hands clasped behind your head.”

She obeyed even before the meaning of his words had sunk in. But when it did she couldn’t help looking up in disbelieving joy. He was smiling at her and she bathed in the warmth of it.

“With a little help from Sister Lavinia the woman called Margaret has unburdened herself of her sins. Of which there were many. You were right on all counts... She responded well to Sister Lavinia and is making good progress. Father Burton has high hopes of her. Now you may stand and show me how your marks are healing.”

She stood and turned full circle so that he could see how the bruises were fading and how the cuts were healing without scarring. When she faced him again he ran a hand slowly across the smooth curves of her breasts and let his fingers trail across the sensitive flesh of the nipples. Paula felt her chest go so tight she could hardly breathe. Her breasts felt taut and full while her nipples sprang out hard and red almost at once. She could hardly believe that at long last her Master was touching her.

“You are very beautiful Paula. And the Church needs the services of beautiful women.”

His index finger was tracing a line down between her breasts and across her stomach. She could make no reply.

“Kneel down,” he told her.

She knelt in front of him and at his command opened his clothes to free his sex. It wasn’t fully erect; the hood of soft skin still covered the head. Very gently she leaned forward and let her tongue probe. To her delight she felt him begin to stiffen immediately and as she closed her lips over the top of the member she felt the foreskin peel back and the head emerge. It throbbed and grew in her mouth until it filled her to capacity and still it grew until she had to stretch her lips to their fullest extent before he was fully erect and her cheeks puffed out as she fought to contain his massive sex. When she took her mouth away to run her tongue down the shaft she was thrilled at the length and size of it. She let her lips and tongue kiss and caress the huge purple head until it shone with her saliva, her hand gripped the shaft and she relished the iron hard strength and power of his erection. And as she sank her head over the tip once again, her darting tongue tasted the salty pearls of his fluid which were beginning to appear at the slit. She began the rhythmical movements of her head, up and down which would bring him to his climax. She could hardly wait until she felt the force and volume of his come, she was sure it would be awesome as he spurted himself into her. And at last when she felt the pulses begin to run through the huge member and felt it swell even more she pushed down further still, until she felt him at the back of her throat. But she was too desperate with hunger for the taste of his sperm to care. The floods which finally erupted into her satisfied even her appetites, spurt after spurt slamming against the back of her throat and joyfully she swallowed time and again until she had gathered every last drop.

As soon as he withdrew from her he told her to undress him and by the time she had, exploring him with her mouth at every opportunity, running her tongue across the broad and muscular chest, letting it delve deep between his legs and in between the hard curves of his buttocks, he was erect again. He took her on the bed and Paula moaned in almost a delirium when she felt his fingers part her lips and begin to toy with an already throbbing clitoris and then push up into her flooding vagina which was trembling with longing. Then at last she felt his huge erection push into her, spreading her lips and seeming to rub every nerve in her channel to the very point of explosive release.

When he reached full penetration he stopped for a second and smiled down at her before beginning his withdrawal and then thrusting in again.

There was no need for any words now. All that needed to be said had been said on the platform while Paula was undergoing her worst torture.

They understood each other perfectly; the ruthless master and the woman born to serve him.

Paula arched her back in yearning for him to start and wrapped her arms tightly round his back. Then he began. Thrust after thrust rammed into her quivering sex and her body surrendered to a series of silent detonations which ripped her senses apart and filled her brain with whirling patterns of ecstasy. She hardly felt him reach his climax; the ones he drove her to were so shattering. But when Paula at last lay quiet and content, still quivering and feeling little ripples and spasms run through her, her Master cupped her left buttock in one hand and told her he would have her branded there.

She was taken to his private residence, a huge house in the Midlands, staffed by the Inner Circle. It had extensive cellars which had been converted to dungeons which shamed the ones at the monastery. Paula saw every conceivable device for discipline on display, but each room was comfortably furnished and carpeted for the comfort of those who would watch. The day after her arrival she was tied face down on a table like the one on which she had been ringed. Beside it a white-hot brazier glowed. From the coals Paula’s Master took the incandescent iron, forged in the shape of the X and held it firmly down onto the flesh of her left buttock which sizzled and bubbled. As she arched against her bonds, Paula just had time to smell her own flesh roasting before she passed out.

Two weeks later she returned to her own flat. A car came for her and she was delighted to see Brother Davis driving. The farther they got from the Patriarch’s house however and the nearer they got to her own, the more Paula became depressed. She had to go back into the world for a while. There was a cover story to be put about, questions to be answered, but she had to do it on her own. And she had been so used to being with others so intimately for so long. At the Patriarch’s house, on the rare occasions when he didn’t want her, she had slept with the others, even Maria. Now her clothes felt constricting and uncomfortable, especially her bra.

And against the fabric of the seat she could feel the brand on her buttock; a symbol of comfort on the one hand but also a reminder of where she really belonged. When he had seen her off the Patriarch had assured her that when it was safe for her to return, he would contact her. Until then she had to operate on her own and make no attempt to contact him.

When Brother Davis dropped her off outside the flat which she had left so long ago he tried to encourage her.

“The call will come Paula. You can rely on that.” She was grateful for his attempt to cheer her up.

The days which followed were grey and lifeless. She felt lost and adrift, she had no desire to be independent again; quite the reverse.

Mainly her time was taken up with debriefing. She and the Patriarch had decided on a story which would account for Margaret Barfield remaining undercover for the next two months; she was gathering evidence against the Church, having used her trusted status within it to secure Paula’s release. Paula’s story was that she and the others had only been encouraged towards a reformed lifestyle. While her brand had been healing, she and her master had rehearsed details day after day until she was word perfect. The debriefing was conducted for ten days by a hard-faced inspector from another division and by a female inspector from a division in the north, Laura Patterson. She gave Paula the hardest time, picking over details, time after time until she wanted to scream.

On a Friday afternoon they finally thanked Paula for her patience and thoroughness, said that there might be a commendation for the way she had handled the situation she had found herself in and that that would be all.