Father Ellard didn’t speak of the incident when he returned from the chapel, nor in the days that followed. He was friendly enough, and Lia soon settled into the new routine, cooking his food and cleaning the hut and the chapel, sweeping the floors and scattering fresh straw, and dusting the pulpit and pews. She ventured no further than the well in the square, for the villagers gave her suspicious looks and whispered behind her back – perhaps because she was a foreigner, or possibly it was her clothing. Father Ellard had given her a smock to wear, though she guessed it had once belonged to a child, for it was very snug about her breasts and hips, and reached barely halfway down her thighs.
Still, she was tolerably happy, and certainly most thankful to be out of the soldiers’ clutches. She slept on a pile of straw in the lean-to, and one night, a week or so after her arrival, she heard a noise and turned to see a shadow looming over her.
‘Do not be afraid, my child,’ he murmured as she shrank back in alarm.
Father Ellard joined her under the blanket and was soon running his hands over her, and his lips also. He sucked her nipples, then moved lower to lick her sex, so expertly that she was obliged to revise her opinion on how many women he had lain with. He brought her to a shuddering climax in this way, and when she’d rested she repaid him in kind, sucking his cock slowly, delaying his orgasm for as long as possible. He eventually erupted in her mouth, she kept him there and drank him dry, and wasn’t altogether surprised when he began to berate himself for his weakness.
‘Be still, father,’ she said sadly, rising from the straw mattress. ‘Be still. I’ll fetch the vinegar.’
Chapter Twenty-two
Two days later Father Ellard received word that Bishop Lothar would be passing through the village on his way south. It threw him into a panic for, as he explained to Lia, the bishop, though a most devout man, was something of a tyrant and an absolute stickler for detail. The chapel was cleaned from top to bottom and all the woodwork polished with beeswax and buffed until it shone. Father Ellard’s robe was washed and the frayed edges stitched, and the hut made spic and span, for the bishop would break his journey in the village and would naturally wish to sleep under a roof.
Bishop Lothar arrived the very next day on a two-wheeled cart drawn by a mule. The beast was led by the tallest man Lia had ever set eyes upon, with huge hands and feet and a massive frame. He was a monk by the name of Bruno, and he carried a stout oak staff as tall as himself. They were informed that he was the bishop’s clerk, servant and bodyguard all rolled into one.
‘A man of God, even one of such high renown as myself, has need of a personal guard in these evil times,’ the bishop explained as he stretched his limbs after clambering down from the cart, ‘and who better than a fellow servant of the Lord? The countryside may be full of thieves and cutthroats, but one look at brother Bruno here and that staff of his, and even the fiercest scoundrel will think twice about molesting us.’
He looked down his thin nose at Lia, and Father Ellard hastily explained her presence and the manner of her arrival in the village. Though somewhat severe and proud in his bearing, the bishop certainly seemed a pious man, for after the introductions he went straight to the chapel where he remained on his knees in silent prayer for quite some time. After that he returned to Ellard’s hut and demanded a meal, which Lia duly cooked and served.
‘It is a strange coincidence that your housekeeper is newly arrived from Attland,’ he said as he ate, ‘for I travel to that country even now. Though I cannot disclose the details of my mission, suffice it to say I carry important dispatches from no less a person than Archbishop Agramant.
‘But now to business. The archbishop has tasked me – in addition to my secret mission – to conduct a survey of church finances on my journey. You will therefore disclose all income and expenditure for the past twelve months to brother Bruno, who will write it down. I, in the meantime, will take this young woman into the chapel for confession, for I am certain she must have many sins burdening her conscience.’
With no more ado he finished his meal, belched and patted his rotund belly, then stood and led Lia out of the hut and across to the chapel. Once inside he reminded her she was in God’s house, and warned her of the terrible consequences of lying, or even failing to tell the whole truth. He then proceeded to question her on her intimate relations with men, and with women also once Lia, in her desire for complete redemption, admitted to it. He insisted she disclose even the smallest detail, saying she could not receive absolution without it, and so Lia, blushing with shame, proceeded to tell him everything she’d done with Durwin, Jarold, Stig, Holmann, Velda, Elfrida, Prince Baran, Karl, Gunther, Willem, Osric, a dozen archers, Hadwin, Tormod, a score or more men-at- arms, and finally Tilda. She made no mention of Father Ellard, thinking that the little priest would surely get into trouble; and in any case it was a long enough list without him. An embarrassingly long list, in fact, and one of which she was far from proud.
When she was done Bishop Lothar stared long and hard at her. ‘You are keeping something from me, I’m sure of it,’ he said, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Tell me the rest or your soul is damned, you hear me? Damned!’
Quailing, she told him what Father Ellard had done to her, at which he jumped to his feet scowling furiously. He caught hold of her arm and hauled her back to the little priest’s hut.
‘Is it true?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Have you lain with this girl?’
Father Ellard hung his head in shame. ‘I have, my lord bishop.’
‘And afterwards you washed her private parts in vinegar? Why would you do such a thing, I ask myself?’
‘I wished to purge my seed from her,’ the little priest said with a sigh, ‘to cleanse her physically, and also spiritually. The pain, you understand—’
‘Pain?’ the bishop snapped. ‘Pain, you say? Good father, it will take more than vinegar to drive out the devil from a female who’s had more lovers than all the whores of Babylon put together! If you wished to know about pain you should have come to me. Bruno, fetch the clamps!’
The clamps turned out to be a series of devices made of wood and iron. There were four in total, one of which was considerably larger than the rest. This, Lia soon learned, was the breast clamp, and it consisted of two stout pieces of wood, curved somewhat to fit around the ribs, and joined with iron screws at each end. She was made to strip and sit on a chair, whereupon Bruno fitted her with the clamp, smiling faintly all the while and handling her breasts with a confidence that spoke of much practice. The lower piece of wood went under her breasts and the upper piece on top, then Bishop Lothar tightened the screws using a long key he kept on a chain around his neck. He wound it slowly, watching her face, and as the pressure increased she grimaced and gasped, causing the bishop to nod with satisfaction.
‘Her beasts are tender,’ he said. ‘See how she feels it already, and the tightening barely started. She’ll suffer greatly before too long, mark my words.’
He spoke the truth. As he continued to turn the screws – first one then the other, a fraction at a time – the pain increased sharply until it was all she could do to keep her hands behind her back where she’d been ordered to place them.
‘Please,’ she groaned, ‘no more, I beg you.’
Bishop Lothar paused long enough to prod the fleshy areas of her breasts that swelled out beyond the clamp. ‘You can stand a great deal more yet,’ he assured her, ‘never fear.’
He continued to tighten the fiendish device, and Lia began to wail. Her willpower broke and her hands rose to stop him, but Bruno caught her wrists and held her fast in an iron grip.
‘Normally such rebellion would result in another full turn of the screws by way of punishment,’ the bishop said sternly, ‘but I will forego it this time as this is merely a demonstration for Father Ellard’s benefit. You would be well advised to exercise better control in future, however.’
His words sent a chill down her spine, for it sounded as if he had long-term plans for her. But how could that be? Surely he couldn’t intend to take her with him?
‘This, then,’ he said, turning to the little priest, ‘is the breast clamp. I will now remove it in order to demonstrate the two nipple clamps. It is possible to fit all three simultaneously, in theory at least, though it is hardly ideal. As you can see, her breasts are at present distended to a considerable degree, so much so that the nipple clamps have little to bite on.’
He used the key once more, but this time to release the screws. Lia gasped in relief as the pressure eased, but her respite was to prove woefully brief, for Bruno produced the nipple clamps. They were a pair of identical devices that looked like miniature versions of the breast clamp, but with one important difference: the contact faces of the breast clamp were simply smooth, polished wood, whereas the jaws of the nipple clamps carried rows of small, blunt, iron teeth.
Bruno pinched her right nipple and pulled it to stretch her breast, then fitted the clamp in such a way that the whole of her aureole was inside the jaws. Using the same key, Bishop Lothar then tightened the device until it gripped her nipple firmly. Bruno then fitted the second clamp to her left nipple, and it in turn was tightened.
‘I call this the start position,’ Lothar said to Ellard. ‘As yet she is in no pain to speak of, though we will shortly remedy that, and the pain will be more acute than previously. Also, as you saw, the jaws of the nipple clamps are fitted with iron studs to further increase her suffering. Understand, my son, that these particular devices are not to be taken lightly. I’m told that Lord Torkel’s own torturer uses implements identical to these to extract confessions from the most recalcitrant of females. Watch now, as I put her to the trial.’
He began to tighten the screws, slowly and meticulously, alternating left and right. Bruno stood behind her and held her arms from the start, and Lia knew this was going to be bad. She closed her eyes and felt the pain build inexorably in her nipples, growing ever fiercer. She moaned and writhed in Bruno’s grip, and still the pain grew until it was no longer bearable. She was screaming miserably, trying desperately to twist free of those huge hands, but to no avail. And then the pain fell away and she slumped in the chair, exhausted and weeping.
‘I took her perhaps halfway that time,’ she heard Lothar say. ‘Much more is possible if one has the time and the inclination. Now I’ll show you the genital clamp. As you can see the principle is much the same, though the form is slightly different. As with the nipple clamps it is fitted with iron studs, though these are somewhat more pointed.’
Through tears Lia saw that the jaws of this final device curved to form a small circle. Bruno fitted it, and even before Lothar tightened the screws she was gasping as the sharp teeth sank into her flesh. As the bishop turned the key she squealed and her thighs snapped shut, trapping his hand.
‘It is usually necessary to tie the penitent securely to a ladder or frame of some sort in order to fit this device,’ Lothar said. ‘As there are three of us, however, we should be able to manage. Bruno, let the good father here take her arms while you spread her legs. Yours is the easier task, Father Ellard, though you will need to hold her tightly. The genital clamp has a fearsome bite, and she will fight to be free of it with every ounce of her strength.’
Ellard nodded and took his place behind her. He looked most unhappy, as he had since her torture started, but Lia knew he would not defy the bishop in this or in any other matter. He grasped her arms just above the elbow and gripped her tightly. Bruno knelt beside her, put his big hands on her knees, and opened her legs.
‘You should not fight this,’ Lothar said, addressing Lia directly. ‘You should welcome it, for pain will help rid you of the demons that plague your soul. Rejoice in your suffering, my child, for through it you will find salvation.’
He began to tighten the screws, and once again he was proved right. Lia did indeed struggle with all her might to be free, but to no avail. The men holding her were up to the task and neither her frantic struggles, nor her screams, nor her pleas for mercy diverted them from their duty. And then, at the height of her suffering, Lothar ordered them to release her. They did so, and Lia clawed desperately at the thing between her legs, only to find she couldn’t shift it. Pulling only caused the teeth to bite in deeper, increasing her agony, and she couldn’t undo it without the key Lothar clutched in his hand. So urgently did she long for release she almost snatched at it, though surely that would avail her little with three men to restrain her.
‘Listen to me,’ Lothar said calmly. ‘Are you listening, my child?’
She nodded, knowing her only hope lay in the man’s mercy. He was regarding her keenly, as a scholar might observe a rare and peculiar creature that had come to his notice.
‘It is in my power to make you wear this thing for an hour, or even a whole day,’ he said, ‘do you understand?’
‘Yes, my lord bishop,’ she whispered, appalled at the thought.
‘I could make you wear it for a week, or a month, or the rest of your life… though perhaps that would be less than a month, for the pain would rob you of sleep and of appetite, and would even take away your will to live. If you wish to be rid of it you must yield to me, and yield utterly. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she did. But if yielding meant agreeing with everything he said and obeying his every command, she would do it. Without question, she would do it.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Slide forward on the chair and open your legs. Keep them open no matter what occurs.’
She moved her buttocks forward, and the clamp slid off the chair seat and dangled freely. Lothar took hold of it and waggled it from side to side, causing the teeth to tug at her agonised flesh. She whined through clenched teeth and prayed fervently to Saint Ivar for the strength to bear it. And as before when she prayed with all her heart, the good saint heard and reached down to her, so that she was able to keep her legs open despite the appalling pain.
‘That is better,’ Lothar said. ‘You’re beginning to learn. Stay like that while I have a word with Father Ellard.’
He took the priest outside and Lia heard them murmuring together, though she couldn’t make out the words. Bruno moved behind her and reached down to cup her breasts. He squeezed them, but such was the pain between her legs she barely felt it in spite of his great strength. Then the other two came back and Bruno hastily withdrew his hands. Bishop Lothar regarded her for a while, then took out his key and removed the clamp. There was a moment during the process when the pain actually increased, though she didn’t know why, but finally she was free of the terrible device, though not of its lingering effects.
‘I have agreed with the good priest here that you will accompany me on my journey,’ the bishop said. ‘You should be thankful, my child, for there will be countless opportunities for you to seek redemption along the way. Does the prospect of ultimate salvation please you?’
‘Yes, my lord bishop,’ she whispered, knowing that was what he wanted to hear, and wishing only to appease him. She was in the hands of a monster, of that she had no doubt; and though he was taking her home, to Attland, she derived precious little comfort from the prospect. The journey so far had been bad enough, but the remainder was likely to prove more dreadful still.
Chapter Twenty-three
The bishop was not an early riser, and it was the middle of the morning before they said their goodbyes to Father Ellard, who looked intensely sad to see Lia go, and started out on their journey. Bruno lent Lia his cloak to wear, her tight smock being thoroughly unsuitable for a bishop’s attendant, and though she wore nothing beneath it she felt perfectly at ease. She’d recently spent so much time naked in the company of strangers that wearing a cloak seemed a treat. And an even greater treat awaited her, for when Bruno lifted her onto the cart seat next to Lothar, she realised w
ith astonishment that she wasn’t expected to walk. But her delight was short-lived, for the bishop immediately produced the genital clamp and told her to lift her cloak.
Lia’s heart sank, yet she dare not disobey. She raised the hem of her cloak and spread her knees, and the bishop fitted the clamp to her sex. He didn’t tighten it anywhere near as much as before, thankfully, and though she was certainly in discomfort, she couldn’t truthfully call it pain… at least, not at the start. But as they moved off she became aware that worse was in store, for the track was rough and full of potholes, so that the cart bumped and jolted constantly, causing the clamp to shake and her discomfort to increase accordingly. She squeezed her thighs together to trap the device, and was relieved to find it helped greatly. Her new master noticed the ploy, however, and it was clear he was having none of it.
‘Open your legs this instant,’ he ordered her sharply. ‘Have you forgotten that pain is necessary for your salvation?’
She did as he commanded, for the key around his neck gave him absolute control over her. She could be in agony within seconds if he had a mind to make her suffer, and she knew he was fully capable of that. So she sat with head bowed and knees apart, enduring the mounting discomfort in silence.
At midday they reached the edge of the forest and Lothar called a halt. Bruno helped his master down from the cart, but Lia was left to her own devices. It was a slow operation, for the pain between her legs had grown steadily as the morning wore on, and now the least movement was misery. She’d hoped the bishop would remove the clamp when they stopped, but he gave no sign of it, sending her instead into the forest to gather firewood, her subsequent progress slow and laborious.
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