Whipping Girl

by Aishling Morgan

‘Perhaps your are not quite so very dull after all, or at least, no duller than the next Supplicant. Tell me, does Sister Verena call you to her rooms at night?’

  ‘No, Elder Sister Aspasia.’

  ‘No, I am surprised…but then, you are in the same dormitory as the Tesserette d’Ortaise, are you not?’

  ‘Yes, Elder Sister Aspasia. I am her whipping girl, Elder Sister Aspasia.’

  ‘And frequently whipped I’m sure, on her behalf and your own. So you have not been called to a Sister, or another Elder?’

  ‘No, Elder Sister Aspasia.’

  ‘I see. Come into my study. No, as you are, on your knees.’

  Lalage obeyed, crawling after Elder Sister Aspasia, into the study, where a great oak desk stood, placed to catch the light from the windows. Elder Sister Aspasia, sat in the finely carved chair behind it, which she pushed back. Lalage swallowed as the nun began to lift her robes. The silk stockings came on show, then bare thigh, and the richly grown mound of the woman’s quim.

  ‘Crawl in beneath the desk,’ Elder Sister Aspasia ordered.

  Lalage crawled into the little space, backwards, to leave her looking directly at Elder Sister Aspasia’s quim, with the pink centre showing wet among the hair. The nun moved the chair closer, took hold of the strap at Lalage’s forehead, and tugged. Lalage came forward, her face pulled in, close, between Elder Sister Aspasia’s thighs, until her nose met the soft, furry mound of the nun’s sex. Taking Lalage’s head strap, Elder Sister Aspasia fixed it around her waist like a belt. Her head trapped, Lalage could do nothing, only kneel in meek acceptance of her fate, moving as the Elder Sister moved while the straps at either side of the head basket were fixed in place around the nun’s thighs.

  Fixed in place, Lalage found herself entirely helpless, the straps holding her tight to Elder Sister Aspasia’s quim, smothering her in hairy flesh, so that every breath was rich with the smell of sex. She was forced to shuffle back as Elder Sister Aspasia pulled in the chair, until she was right under the desk, with her whipped bottom sticking out behind.

  ‘You will apply your tongue when ordered,’ Elder Sister Aspasia’s voice came from above Lalage. ‘Are you positioned correctly?’

  Lalage managed a muffled reply through her mouthful of hair and flesh.

  ‘Lick a little,’ Elder Sister Aspasia ordered.

  Reluctantly, Lalage opened her mouth, to burrow her tongue between the fleshy folds of Elder Sister Aspasia’s quim and find the clitoris. Reasoning that the sooner she made the nun come the sooner she would be released, she began to flick her tongue tip on the little firm bud of flesh. Elder Sister Aspasia gave a pleased sigh, then spoke.

  ‘Enough, for now.’

  Lalage stopped licking. She waited, expecting Elder Sister Aspasia to order her to start once more. Nothing happened, until she heard the scratch of the nun’s quill once more. Severe consternation rose up in her head, making her feel as if she was choking. She was trapped, face to quim, an erotic degradation which was making her urgent for sex despite herself, yet the woman who was treating her so cruelly had gone back to work!

  An hour bell struck, then a quarter, and still Elder Sister Aspasia ignored Lalage completely, save to occasionally adjust her position in the chair, to drag Lalage’s head with her. At first Lalage felt she was being deliberately tormented, but slowly she came to the realisation that her own feelings meant nothing, and that she was there purely for Elder Sister Aspasia’s amusement and convenience.

  Fresh embarrassment and consternation came with a knock on the door. Elder Sister Aspasia called for the newcomer to enter, and greeted her casually, equal to equal, implying another Elder Sister. Names were not exchanged, and Lalage was ignored utterly as the two women swapped pleasantries and remarks on the weather and the progress of the crops. At last the other woman sat down, in a position which Lalage knew provided a prime view of her spread bottom cheeks and the rude details between.

  ‘A different bottom than last week, if I am not mistaken,’ the newcomer remarked casually. ‘A new girl?’

  ‘Yes,’ Elder Sister Aspasia replied. ‘A little thing called Lalage, one of Sister Verena’s girls.’

  ‘I see you’ve caned her.’

  ‘Yes, but she is moderately obedient, at least after a few cuts, and not entirely stupid, but a slut and a sodomite.’

  ‘A harlot?’

  ‘Probably. Certainly she must be tested.’

  The other woman responded with a knowing laugh. Elder Sister Aspasia adjusted herself, pressing her quim more firmly into Lalage’s face. Thinking her attention was wanted, Lalage began to lick, but was rewarded with a cuff on one ear.

  ‘As I say, a slut,’ Elder Sister Aspasia remarked. ‘Among the others, there is a southern girl, Sabina, who I am convinced is a natural harlot. Sister Tryphena assures me that she juices at the least touch and sometimes comes under the strap.’

  ‘A harlot indeed, fortunate. Two then. Yet both Sister Hope and Sister Morna ask for two, and I myself could accommodate three without difficulty. May I see the lists?’

  Lalage heard the faint rustle of parchment before the newcomer spoke again.

  ‘What of this one, Sanchia? Three times pilloried?’

  ‘She is not a clear case. Her fault is wilfulness, while she has a remarkable resistance to pain and seems altogether immune to humiliation. She arouses well, but all in all I feel she would be better in training as a Salvatora. There is another as well, among Sister Verena’s girls, one Benedicta, and two among Sister Hodierna’s; Easter, a great fat beast you may have noticed, and another whose name I do not immediately recall.’

  ‘A fair intake, if all pass through training. Good Salvatoras will always be needed. Yes, four is good. Six or seven harlots is a lot to hope for, as we all realise.’

  ‘We must put more to the test.’

  Uncomfortable, Lalage moved a little, her lips rubbing Elder Sister Aspasia’s quim. The nun spoke.

  ‘Excuse me a moment, my little pet is over eager.’

  She pushed her chair back a little, dragging Lalage abruptly forward. An instant later a heavy cuff caught the side of Lalage’s head, filling it with sparks.’

  Keep still, you little slut,’ Elder Sister Aspasia ordered. ‘I will tell you when I am ready.’

  ‘A harlot, for certain,’ the other woman remarked. ‘So, do we have any of true potential?’

  ‘Many are diligent, but most through simple fear. Fortunately only three are truly pious. Two are with Sister Hawise, one is with Sister Verena. Armigel, Grainne and Coralie are their names, all candidates for the library or chapel office, I would imagine. There is Basilie, with Sister Hodierna, who is intelligent, and might go far. Otherwise, I would not care to say.’

  ‘A shame. Not an exceptional year then. Another thing, Father Glauter wants a new girl.’

  ‘Another?’

  ‘He says their muscles grow slack after a while.’

  ‘A while? He had the last one for less than a week! Ysemay her name was, I think. Still, after being so vigorously sodomised I imagine there is a greater chance of her being harlot material. I will send him this one, when I have finished with her, as she is a sodomite anyway.’

  ‘He wants a virgin. He was most particular…an anal virgin, by nature. The man is a pig.’

  ‘Just so. I am glad old Father Broumus preferred boys.’

  ‘I also. Still, we must do our best to provide. There is a stupid one, Rosabel, who would probably think it an honour.’

  ‘I’ll have her sent then. Has she a good bottom?’

  ‘Plump, yet firm, certainly ripe. To his taste I think.’

  ‘Excellent. We must give our best attention to the harlots.’

  ‘I shall.’

  ‘I thank you. I am sure we will not be disappointed. That is a fine sight, it must be said. Will you make her lick?’

  ‘If it pleases you. Lalage, to your task.’

  Lalage immediately began to lick. Elder Sister Aspasia chuckl
ed, then sighed.

  ‘She is learning,’ the other woman remarked. ‘May I?’

  ‘Pray do.’

  Lalage jumped to a sudden, stinging pain, the flick of a quirt, full between her open buttocks, to make her jump.

  ‘Make her come, you little slut!’ the woman behind her crowed. ‘When you do, the whipping stops!’

  Both women laughed, and the quirt caught Lalage’s bottom once more, the sting hitting an existing welt, to make her gasp into her fleshy mouthful. She licked harder, struggling to concentrate as the whip struck again, and again, each hit making her jump and breaking her rhythm. Soon tears of frustration were welling up in her eyes, yet she struggled to do her best, and to ignore the responses of her own body. It failed, the woman behind her crowing in delight.

  ‘Look, Aspasia, she’s winking at me! How funny! Do you think she will come?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Elder Sister Aspasia answered hoarsely. ‘I will, certainly.’

  The other woman went quiet, but flicked the quirt in again, catching Lalage’s quim, full across the lips. Lalage squealed into Elder Sister Aspasia’s sex, but went straight back to licking, determined to make the nun come, and soon, both to end her pain and to prevent her from disgracing herself. Again the whip struck, and she felt a little jolt of intense pleasure, close to orgasm. In desperation, she put her hand to the nun’s body, slipping a finger tip into the tiny hole at the centre of the nun’s hymen. Elder Sister Aspasia moaned. Lalage pushed another finger in, to tickle the nun’s juice slick anus. The whip caught her sex again, and again her reaction was as much pleasure as pain, but Aspasia was coming, with a low moan as her muscles clenched in Lalage’s face. At once the whipping stopped, allowing Lalage to concentrate on bringing Elder Sister Aspasia to climax. Only when her head was pulled away did Lalage stop.

  ‘Might I borrow her?’ the other woman demanded immediately. ‘The scent of cunt has aroused me.’

  ‘Pray do. A moment.’

  Elder Sister Aspasia reached down to adjust the straps holding Lalage’s head in place. With the last open, Lalage sucked in a great breath of air, the first not reeking of aroused quim for an hour or so. Elder Sister Aspasia stayed in place, forcing her to crawl backwards, bottom first, until she was almost touching the other woman before she could turn.

  The woman was big, and already had her thighs spread and her robe up, revealing a fat quim, well grown with a rank tangle of black hair. Lalage moved closer, to be taken firmly by the hair and pulled in without ceremony. She began to lick immediately, drawing a sigh of pleasure from the fat nun, then a remark.

  ‘She is obedient indeed! You might almost think she likes it. Well, my little slut, do you?’

  She had tugged Lalage’s head back by the hair.

  ‘I am honoured, Elder Sister,’ Lalage managed.

  The fat nun laughed and pulled Lalage’s head back into place.

  ‘You have taught her well. Yes, slut, just so…feed well, then on my bump when I order it.’

  Both nuns went quiet, so that Lalage could hear the slurping noises of her own tongue as she fed on the bulbous, musky quim. Her own sex was growing ever more excited, and the urge to touch rising again, but she held back, struggling not to give in, and unsure of the reaction to a display of wantonness on her part. Neither demanded it, and by the time the order came to lick the fat nun’s clitoris, Lalage’s juice was running down the insides of her thighs.

  The woman’s clitoris was big, a bulge of pearly flesh the size of a finger tip. Immediately Lalage began to lick it the big woman twitched, then again. Lalage licked harder, sensing the approach of orgasm. It came, an instant later, the woman’s fat quim pulsing, then, entirely unexpectedly, releasing a squirt of fluid full into Lalage’s mouth. She jerked back in shock, only to catch the rest in one eye and across her cheek, leaving her gasping and spluttering on the floor, with juice running down her face as the two women laughed at her.

  Not daring to look up, Lalage wiped the moustache of quim cream from around her mouth and what she could of the pungent fluid from her face. Both Elder Sisters watched her in frank amusement. Wary of the fat woman’s quirt, Lalage crawled into the corner. The nuns went back to their conversation as if Lalage did not exist.

  ‘What of accommodation?’ Elder Sister Aspasia asked. ‘If demand is so high, might we not need another house?’

  ‘I am in two minds on this. We must ask Mother Radegund’s opinion.’

  ‘She will provide wise advice, certainly. Are there further matters?’

  ‘No, that is all. Until next week then. Blessed be the Lord.’

  ‘Blessed be the Lord.’

  The fat woman rose, leaving without the slightest attention for the girl who had just licked her to orgasm. Elder Sister Aspasia went back to her papers, frowning as she made a series of marks against a list of names, and spending a while gazing thoughtfully out of the window before speaking to Lalage.

  ‘That, my little pet, was Elder Sister Amicia, a woman I suspect you will come to know quite well.’

  ‘How so, Elder Sister Aspasia?’ Lalage asked.

  Elder Sister Aspasia merely chuckled, and pushed her quill back into the ink well before speaking again.

  ‘So, a morning in the head basket, a little work with your tongue and a touch of discipline. Let me see how you are. Spread your thighs.’

  Lalage obeyed, opening her knees wide to show off her quim. She could feel how wet she was, and how swollen, and felt the blood rise to her face as Elder Sister Aspasia’s mouth turned up into a knowing smile. Lalage hung her head.

  ‘I am ashamed, Elder Sister.’

  ‘So you should be, but I doubt your shame is strong enough. Let me see.’

  Elder Sister Aspasia rose, to walk into the living room. Lalage heard the creak of the chest from which the head basket had been taken, and a moment later the nun returned, with another leather device, two broad sheaves, joined close and each set with a buckle and strap. The nun walked to Lalage.

  ‘This is to stop you abusing yourself. Put your hands behind your back.’

  Lalage obeyed, despite her consternation, and shame at the realisation that Elder Sister Aspasia had so easily guessed her intentions. Her arms were fixed in place, tight behind her back, joined at the wrists to prevent her from getting to her quim, or using her hands in any way at all. Once secured, Elder Sister Aspasia took the lead and led Lalage into the small bare room to secure her to the wall.

  ‘It is my place to understand sluts like yourself,’ Elder Sister Aspasia stated. ‘It is my responsibility to guide you through your time as Supplicants, and to assist in seeing that you receive the correct training as a Novice. Self-abuse is unthinkable for a Supplicant, or should be. Its prevalence is a disgrace to St Quay. Indeed, there is some debate among the Blessed Mothers as to whether it is better to risk the sin and administer stern penance for malefactors, or simply for all Supplicants to sleep with their hands tied, and so avoid the sin altogether. What is your opinion on this?’

  ‘I would not presume to have one, Elder Sister Aspasia,’ Lalage answered.

  ‘A good answer. Perhaps we shall make something of you yet…but I doubt it.’

  The Elder Sister turned away without another word. Presently Lalage heard the door close and once more she was left to her thoughts.

  The afternoon passed slowly, time marked by the slow shifting of the patterns of light on the boards and the carpet of Elder Sister Aspasia’s bedroom, and by the bells of the nunnery. After a while, Lalage lay down in the hope of sleep. She was tired, but also sore, and it would not come easily. Instead, the conversation between the two Elder Sisters kept going through her mind as she tried to understand what had been said.

  She seemed to have been branded a harlot, for having been sodomised and also because she was easily aroused. Yet there were no harlots in the nunnery. The idea was an absurdity. Also, what were the implications of being branded a harlot? Why was it fortunate that Sabina was also one? Why did the
nuns hope to find six or seven? According to church doctrine, the opposite was true. The idea of a girl chosen to become a bride of the Lord being branded as a harlot representing utter disgrace, not merely for the girl, but for the nunnery which had given her shelter.

  Perhaps more puzzling still, why was it fortunate that of the fifty or so Supplicants, only three could be considered truly pious? Again, it seemed the exact opposite of what the church should desire. That four girls should be chosen for training as Salvatoras at least made sense, none of the rest did at all.

  She woke confused and scared, from a dream in which her head had been caught in the mouth of a great black goat as it prepared to penetrate her. It took a moment for her sense of panic to subside, before she realised where she was, and why her head was constricted. Shaking herself, she sat up.

  Her body was wet with sweat, her trapped arms hurt, the head basket was uncomfortable, and her mouth was full of vile tasting fluid. She spat into the pot, then climbed awkwardly onto it to relieve herself. There was no sign of Elder Sister Aspasia, and Lalage spent a while stretching her aching limbs and moving her arms to relieve the pain, before once more lying down.

  When the next bell went it was to signal the hour of the evening meal. She immediately felt hungry, and her thirst grew suddenly stronger. There was neither water, nor food, and she began to wonder if she was being deliberately deprived, or whether the omission was due to simple indifference.

  Moving close to the door, she found that she could see the decanter from which Elder Sister Aspasia had poured her noon drink. It tempted, but she could do nothing, bringing gratitude for being kept from sin, and immediate irritation at the feeling. She moved back, resentment warring with the desire to adopt the humble acceptance appropriate to her status.

  The door clicked. Quickly Lalage adopted a kneeling position. Elder Sister Aspasia appeared, briefly as she passed into her study, only to emerge once more and pour herself a generous glass from the decanter. Again she disappeared, and presently could be heard singing softly to herself as she enjoyed her drink. Lalage waited, her need for attention growing stronger by the moment, even if it was only to have her head clamped back between the nun’s thighs, anything if it gave her an opportunity to beg a drink without risking punishment.