by Victor Bruno
A tall blonde girl came into the Refectory. She wore a pale blue habit and, like the other girl was bare-footed. Piet wondered what they had underneath. As if sensing his thoughts, the Abbess said: “Novices wear nothing but that habit.” That knowledge excited Piet. There had only to be a flurry of wind, or if they bent over, then they would be completely exposed. “Anselm and Martha do not appear to be here,” said the Abbess. “I’ll take you to their quarters.”
She took Piet through a cloister and down a passageway covered in some kind of soft, rubberised material. Down another passageway lined with heavy, Norman-style wooden doors. A novice in a white habit approached and curtsied nervously to the Abbess as she passed. Piet already sensed that this was a strictly regimental establishment. The Abbess knocked on one of the doors which was quickly unlatched. They entered.
A man in his early thirties, wearing a purple habit greeted them, smiling. There was a young, fair-haired woman lounging in an armchair, also wearing a purple habit. “Brother Anselm and Sister Martha,” introduced the Abbess.
“How do you do?” said Piet, feeling just a shade awkward.
“Er... how do you do?” said Brother Anselm.
“This is Beatrix’s Guardian,” said the Abbess, not entirely correctly. “I’ll leave you three to discuss her progress. And her future.”
(In his office, Piet had stopped wanking. He was just, for the time being, mulling over his first visit to the Nunnery.)
The Abbess left the room which was pleasantly furnished, even if in a rather old-fashioned style. The windows were tall, Gothic-styled. Sister Martha rose and moved elegantly across the room. “I expect you are a little tired after your journey, Mr. Lanners. Would you care for refreshments?”
“That would be pleasant... yes, thank you,” said Piet.
“We can offer you wine or Cognac.”
“Cognac would be fine,” said Piet.
“Please be seated, Mr. Lanners,” invited Brother Anselm. Piet sank into a deep armchair and took a well-filled balloon glass of brandy. It was all very pleasant. These two seemed more relaxing than the Abbot and the Abbess.
“And how is Beatrix getting on?” enquired Piet.
“She is not fitting too easily into our regime,” said Sister Martha. “As I told you in my reports.”
“Yes... yes ...” nodded Piet.
“The girls are sent here,” said Brother Anselm, “as Novices, for contemplation, rehabilitation and relaxation. Beatrix is not taking kindly to the relaxation side of things.”
“It is largely of a sexual nature,” said Sister Martha casually, sipping a glass of Green Chartreuse.
Piet felt his nerves tingle. “Ah yes, so Madame Vosges led me to believe.”
“You see,” said Brother Anselm, “a Novice will have had plenty of academic training with Madame Vosges, here we prepare her for the physical side of life. Show her how to please others and, in good time, please herself.”
“In short,” said Sister Martha, “she is taught how to use her body to give maximum pleasure to all concerned. The reactions of our Novices to our methods varies, naturally. Beatrix is one who, at this stage, is not as co-operative as we would wish.”
“I see,” nodded Piet “and what do you do about that?”
“We continue to train her,” said Brother Anselm.
“And discipline her,” added Sister Martha.
“Ahh... yes... discipline,” said Piet. “Is it as strict as at Madame Vosges’ School?”
“I should well imagine it is,” replied Sister Martha with a faint smile.”
“You mentioned Beatrix had been paddled and birched.”
“Yes, those are normal methods of applying discipline here,” said Brother Anselm.
“Where is Beatrix now?” asked Piet.
“Doing penance,” replied Brother Anselm.
“And what does that mean exactly?”
“Penance varies,” stated Sister Martha. “There are various degrees. Beatrix’s penance is a quite simple one. She is kneeling in her cell for a period of two hours, at the end of which time, she will receive six strokes of the paddle.”
“That is for offences committed earlier today,” said Brother Anselm.
“What offences were those?”
“We are at a stage of introducing Beatrix to oral sex. She does not find it altogether to her liking,” said Sister Martha.
“A passing phase, of course,” said Brother Anselm with a little smile. “I have known girls who took weeks to be persuaded to take a cock in their mouth... but ended up really keen little gobblers.”
Piet was not perturbed by this sexual frankness. He had hoped for it and was excited by it.
“Has she... well... er... has she ...” began Piet.
“Been fucked?” asked Sister Martha. “Oh yes... but she did not accept that voluntarily. Not many of them do.”
“We think it right,” said Brother Anselm, “that Novices should be made to understand they are here for sexual training. A good fucking brings that home to them.”
“I am sure it does,” smiled Piet. “Did you give it to her?”
“I and several of my colleagues have enjoyed her. She has a good body and, when she has learned how to use it properly, she will be a really splendid addition to the Nunnery.”
“Her period of penance is very nearly up,” said Sister Martha. “Would you like to go down and see Beatrix, Mr. Lanners?”
“Yes, I would indeed,” nodded Piet. They all rose and he followed the purple-robed figures from the chamber.
They entered another part of the Nunnery and came to a long corridor lined on each side with heavy wooden doors. “These are the Novices’ cells,” explained Brother Anselm. “Here they live and sleep and are, to some extent, trained.”
They came to a door marked number fifty six and entered without knocking. Brother Anselm put his finger to his lips to indicate Piet should stay silent. The cell did not look like a cell at all. It was warm and quite comfortably furnished. There was a small barred window high up on the wall and on one side of the cell stood what looked like a slim version of a gym vaulting horse. It had a rounded brown leather top and was supported by four wooden legs set at a slight angle. This, Piet realised with a thrill of pleasure, must be a Punishment Block. This was at once confirmed when, looking up, he saw a paddle hanging from a hook on the wall and, standing in a canister of water, a birch. He could only assume each cell was similarly equipped.
Beatrix kneeling in her short white habit, did not turn her head or move. Her hands were placed submissively on top of her head.
“You have had ample time to reflect on your wilful disobedience, Beatrix, yes,” asked Brother Anselm.
“Yes, Brother,” answered Beatrix in a low, frightened voice.
“Have you anything to say?”
“I... I’m sorry, Brother. It... is so difficult for me ...”
“Difficulties are made to be overcome,” said Sister Martha, taking down the paddle from the wall. Piet saw that it was shaped very much like a squash racket whilst the head of it had something of the appearance of a table tennis bat, but rather larger. The head was, in fact, composed of a rounded piece of very hard ebony wood covered on each side by rubber surfaces almost a quarter of an inch thick. This was attached to quite a long handle. It was not a rigid handle for it was made of leather plaited round a hard core of thick wire. It ended with a rubber grip. The composition of the handle lent it a certain flexibility. Not too much but just enough to impart extra zip to the speed of the paddle head. As every Novice knew, it hurt considerably when applied with modest force and it hurt excruciatingly when applied with full power.
“How many did you decree as a penance, Brother Anselm?” enquired Sister Martha.
“Just six,” replied Brother Ans
elm. A little moan came from Beatrix.
“I think, shortly,” said Sister Martha, “we shall have to start stepping up on that.”
“Agreed,” nodded Brother Anselm. “But, of course, there may be improvement.”
“Let us hope so,” said Sister Martha, with an evil little smile. “Raise your habit, Beatrix,” she ordered. Piet’s nerves were tingling. This was exactly the sort of thing he had hoped for. Beatrix delayed only fractionally in obeying the order. She had been well trained at Madame Vosges’ School and she was continuing to be trained. The beautifully rounded curves of the girl’s bottom were at once exposed and even more so when the next order came. “Forehead to the floor.” Beatrix bent forward placing a palm flat down on each side of her head. Piet gazed with mounting lust at the girlish charms displayed to him. She belongs to ME, he thought.
Piet noticed that the buttock cheeks did not have the pristine creaminess of former days but were lumpier and a little mottled in places, presumably the result of previous punishment.
“It pains me,” said Sister Martha, “to have to make you do penance so often, but the remedy is entirely in your hands.” Piet saw Beatrix’s buttocks give a little twitch. Then Sister Martha swung the paddle down firmly but not, Piet observed, with maximum force. It fell over the right buttock cheek.
Sssppplllaaa... aaatttttt!
A circular splodge of red appeared over the cheek and Beatrix jerked up with a gasp, but went down again almost immediately. The paddle swung and fell again, this time on the left buttock cheek.
Sssppplllaaa... aaatttttt!
A similar red splodge, a similar reaction from Beatrix. The girl, reflected Piet would have been well hardened up by Madame Vosges so that she could take such punishment. It was probably preferable to be paddled by Sister Martha than to be caned by Madame Vosges. Not pleasant but preferable.
Twice more the paddle fell with similar force... once on the right cheek, once on the left. Brother Anselm was looking on with a benign expression of innocence on his features. Beatrix gasped and jerked up but, by and large, maintained her posture. I wonder if I would be able to do the same if I were getting the paddle, Piet asked himself. Probably not. But then, Beatrix had had far, far more experience of pain than he had.
The final two strokes were laid on with considerably more force and, moreover, they were falling where the paddle had fallen before. Beatrix yelped loudly and, momentarily, her hands flew back to clasp her burning cheeks.
“Hands away,” snapped Sister Martha. Beatrix assumed her former position, palms to the floor. Both buttock cheeks were glowing red.
“This afternoon, Beatrix,” said Brother Anselm, “we will repeat the relaxation discipline of yesterday... when you showed considerable lack of co-operation. I hope I do not have to order another, and more severe penance.” The girl shuddered. “Now, Beatrix, I have a little surprise for you. Kneel up and turn round.”
Beatrix did so and first puzzlement, then fear, then shame, then excitement ran over her agitated features. Piet tried to look casual, tried to smile.
“Nunkie!” cried Beatrix (it had been her favourite name for him when she was much younger) “Oh Nunkie... ooohhhh... ooohhhh... you’ve come for me... at last... oohh thank God!” The girl stood up and hurled herself at Piet who accepted her into his arms, enjoying the delicious softness of her young body. She seemed to have forgotten that he had once raped her... several times. She was simply overwhelmed by his re-appearance after such a long time. “Ooohhhh... take me away... now... NOW... from this awful place... they’re doing such terrible things to me!”
Poor dear, thought Piet, what a shock the girl was in for! Sister Martha and Brother Anselm looked on complacently.
Piet released himself from the girl’s clasp and pushed her away. “I am afraid you are making a grave mistake, Beatrix,” he said coldly. “I have not come to take you away but am merely here to see how you are progressing.”
A look of disbelieving horror spread over Beatrix’s face. “Oh no... OOOHHHH... No... OOOO!” she gasped. It seemed to Piet that the girl was recalling that he had raped her.
“Not only did I arrange to have you sent here, to the Nunnery, but I also arranged for you to attend Madame Vosges’ excellent establishment ...”
“OOOOHHHHHH... GOD... NO... NOO... OOOO!” Beatrix’s mouth was sagging open and she was shaking her head in utter disbelief as the full horror of what was being said was borne in upon her. “You d-didn’t... you couldn’t... you COULDN’T... it... it’s too inhuman... and... and... to your own niece ...”
“I’m afraid I did,” said Piet unconsolingly. “It seemed the safest thing to do after what happened between us.”
Revulsion at the memory of that spread over Beatrix’s features. Piet saw fury and hate flare momentarily in the girl’s blue eyes. Then that faded... back to dull despair.
“Y-You... d-devil... YOU MONSTER!” The words burst from Beatrix.
“Show more respect for your uncle,” snapped Sister Martha.
Beatrix was backing away, now trembling uncontrollably. “You... w-watched me being p-paddled... you did nothing... it... it’s unbelievable ...” she gasped.
Piet smiled. He was enjoying himself. It was he who was primarily responsible for all her sufferings. “It’s true,” said Piet. He smiled again. “Once,” he went on, “I had the very great pleasure of watching you get a very good caning from Madame Vosges. You didn’t know she has a false mirror looking into her Study, did you? But she has. She made that beautiful bottom of yours squirm well and truly.”
Beatrix covered her face with her hands and sobbed bitterly. Her fate had been bad enough before but now... now... to know that her uncle was responsible for it. And that he revelled in it! He was nothing more than a vile, sadistic beast! He had made her a prisoner for life in a world of unremitting suffering and total degradation.
“I have not been all that impressed by your reactions to this visit by your uncle,” said Brother Anselm. “You have been most disrespectful.”
“Indeed,” agreed Sister Martha.
“Accordingly, you will undergo another hour’s penance ...” said Brother Anselm.
At the end of which,” chimed in Sister Martha, “you will receive a further six strokes of the paddle.”
“Ooohhhh... nnnnooooo!” wailed the sobbing Beatrix.
“Resume your position, Beatrix,” ordered Brother Anselm firmly.
Beatrix hesitated, doubtless inhibited by her uncle’s presence. “Unless,” said Sister Martha. “you’d like to get another taste of the birch ...”
“NOOOOO... OOOO!” squealed Beatrix in terror. Brother Anselm smiled faintly at Piet. They watched as Beatrix walked uncertainly to her former position and knelt. The threat of the birch had been adequately effective.
“Head to the floor,” said Brother Anselm. Piet watched the short white habit ride up to expose half of the girl’ bottom. Sister Martha pulled it higher so that the whole of the reddened buttocks could be seen. Beatrix moaned, shoulders heaving with her continuing sobs. “You will remain in that position for the whole hour,” continued Brother Anselm, “to contemplate what is coming to you.”
Piet saw a kind of quivering ripple of dread over Beatrix’s curving flesh. Then he turned and followed the two purple-clad figures from the cell.
***
The three of them relaxed in Brother Anselm’s quarters. Piet wondered if there was any sexual relationship between him and Sister Martha. She was certainly most attractive. Still, with all these young Novices about, perhaps he hadn’t got the time or the energy!
Consuming a bottle of some excellent local wine, they chatted. Finally, Piet was asked the question he had hoped for. “Will you be staying overnight?” enquired Sister Martha.
“I rather thought I would,” replied Piet, trying not to look too hap
py.
Brother Anselm nodded. “Possibly you might like to... er... well... see what progress your niece is making yourself?”
“Well... yes... why not?” Piet’s nerves were tingling pleasantly.
“Matters can be arranged so that she won’t give you any trouble,” said Sister Martha. It reminded him of what Madame Vosges had said concerning Tricia when she had been laid on for him at the School.
“That’s fine,” said Piet. “You are most kind.”
“Our pleasure,” smiled Sister Martha. And smiled wickedly.
***
An hour later the three were back in Beatrix’s cell. She had not moved but she could be seen shuddering. At once Sister Martha took down the paddle. Then she handed it to Piet. “As it was you she was so insulting to, Mr. Lanners, perhaps you would be so good as to make her pay penance.”
Piet was startled and delighted. A lovely, curvaceous, rosy-hued bottom awaited him. He was going to lay three hard strokes across each swelling, gibbous cheek. Beatrix had begun to sob again. She realised what was about to happen. Oh the hideous shame of it!
The paddle felt good in Piet’s hand as he moved into position. Momentarily he thought of what was going to happen later on that night... then he swept the paddle down over the right buttock cheek.
Sssssppppllllaaaa... aaatttttt!
Oh what a lovely sound! Oh what a lovely squirming motion! Beatrix’s gasping-yelp of pain was loud. Only long experience of pain enabled her to maintain her bending posture.
Again! On the left buttock cheek. “Ooowwww... aaahhh... owww ...” cried Beatrix despairingly. Piet licked his lips with sadistic delight. It was a superb bottom to deal with. It was more shapely than that of Tricia, whom he had had the pleasure of caning.
(In his office, re-living the memories of paddling Beatrix, Piet had started wanking again. Slowly but steadily)
