Whipping Girl

by Aishling Morgan

  ‘Shut up! One more Axiom, Corisande, and you will serve as the chamberpot tonight.’

  Corisande went quiet, hanging her head in submission. Lucilla’s face was set in an angry frown as she walked to the window and after a long moment staring out across St Quay she turned and spoke heatedly.

  ‘I think the old pervert picks on my girls deliberately. It is bad enough with Babbles, who likes things up her bottom, but Butterball!’

  ‘You frequently stick things up her bottom,’ Benedicta pointed out.

  ‘Exactly!’ Lucilla stormed. ‘She is my girl, to use as I please. I don’t want some lecherous old pig with his dirty cock up her arse!’

  ‘What is to be done?’ Lalage asked. ‘He is a man of great influence, and takes girls as he pleases. Our Prioress, I believe, is beholden to him in some way.’

  ‘By nature,’ Lucilla answered. ‘He is her link to the Cardinal, and so the Pontiff, thus ensuring the privileges of the order. A few sodomised girls are a small price to pay. After all, it is not as if it is her bottom up which his cock is stuck. As to what is to be done, I must speak to him, perhaps point out my uncle’s position on chastity for the priesthood, which is that sodomy is only acceptable in extremis. He likes to make you suck too, doesn’t he Babbles?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lalage admitted.

  ‘So that’s a charge of paganism on top of incontinence. Doubtless the Quaestors would have plenty to say about that.’

  ‘Also about my behaviour, and Coralie’s if she has already been sodomised,’ Lalage pointed out. ‘Sins of the body reflect equally upon both parties, and he is sure to cite us as temptresses.’

  ‘True,’ Lucilla grunted, ‘maybe a polite request then…’

  ‘If you go to him alone,’ Nest pointed out, ‘he may take you, and sodomise you too.’

  ‘He wouldn’t dare!’ Lucilla exclaimed. ‘He would like to, be sure of it, the way his eyes move over my body when we meet, but he would never…Still, stranger things have happened. No, Babbles, you know him best. You must go to him, and hint, gently, at my displeasure. Be tactful, and for the Lord’s sake don’t let him know we’re lovers…’

  ‘Lady Lucilla,’ Lalage interrupted, ‘does it truly matter if Father Glauter sodomised Coralie? After all, he does me, and you have never…’

  ‘Why,’ Lucilla laughed, ‘I do believe you are jealous, Babbles! How amusing! There is a difference, Babbles, between yourself and little Butterball. She is pious, you are a slut. Her bottom is virgin…save to my fingers…and the occasional handle or piece of fruit admittedly. You had been sodomised by more farm boys than you can remember, before you ever came here. Besides, it amuses me to think of you with Father Glauter puffing and blowing away on your back as he sodomises you, while for Coralie I feel sympathy.’

  ‘Why so?’ Lalage demanded.

  Lucilla merely shrugged, then went on.

  ‘So, off you go, and phrase your words carefully. Hint perhaps that when he can have his pick of over fifty Supplicants it is foolish to choose the single one who might cause him to end up on the plumbatae or in an iron maiden. Include yourself in the stricture if you like, but for all your protests, I get the impression you are not entirely averse to his attentions.’

  Lalage felt the blood rise to her face, but said nothing. Lucilla clearly expected her to go, Benedicta also, while for all her jealousy, she too felt sorry for Coralie. With a heavy sigh she turned for the door, her bottom hole twitching in anticipation of what was likely to happen to her.

  She hurried to the Father’s house, only to find that she was too late. Coralie had already been sodomised, and freshly. Even as the wordless servitor hurried her in Father Glauter was dropping his robe. Coralie lay limp over the bolster, her chubby bottom raised and spread, her anus still pulsing, so that as Lalage watched, a bubble formed in the thick sperm coating the little open hole, grew and popped.

  ‘You are a little late if you were hoping for the same treatment, Lalage,’ Father Glauter chuckled.

  ‘I…I wished to speak, Blessed Father,’ Lalage answered, ‘on a matter of some importance.’

  ‘You, a Supplicant, have a matter of importance to discuss?’ he responded in disbelief.

  ‘I bear a message from the Tesserette d’Ortaise,’ Lalage explained.

  The priest’s eyebrows rose a fraction, but he made two last adjustments to his robe before speaking again.

  ‘I see. Well, my presumptuous little sodomite, it can hardly be more important than the meeting I must host within a few minutes. Out with it then.’

  ‘The Tesserette d’Ortaise,’ Lalage began carefully, ‘feels that you are perhaps unaware of Coralie’s position as her maid.’

  ‘Her maid?’ Glauter demanded. ‘I thought the other one…Nest, was her maid?’

  ‘Nest also, Blessed Father,’ Lalage answered.

  ‘How many maids does the wretched girl need?’ the Priest demanded. ‘Oh very well, I understand what is being said. A shame, because she is so tight, but then there is but a month to Supplication and I need a Novice for the altar. I’ll have you tonight then, instead, so for now, lick up that mess, and swallow it down, I want no stains on my bed.’

  He nodded casually to the sticky mess between Coralie’s buttocks, and walked from the room, shutting the door behind him. Lalage turned to her friend, her mouth falling slowly open as she watched the sperm ooze from Coralie’s anus. Not daring to disobey, she climbed onto the bed with a sigh, to kneel between her friend’s open thighs. Coralie stayed still, neither offering herself, nor withholding.

  ‘Coralie?’ Lalage asked in concern.

  Coralie merely moaned, a low sound of utter despair. Lalage smiled weakly to herself, recognising Coralie’s response to sexual arousal. With a sigh of her own, she went down, pressing her face between the firm, fat buttocks. Her tongue came out, and into the sperm pool. She winced at the slimy texture and the strong mixture of male and salt on her tongue, but quickly began to lap the puddle of thick, creamy come from the open ring of Coralie’s bottom hole.

  As always with Father Glauter, there was plenty, and more bubbled from Coralie’s anus even as Lalage licked. Lalage swallowed, licked again, only to see yet more oozing out as she drew back a little. With a deep, resigned sigh, she put her lips to the sloppy little hole and began to suck out the sperm, swallowing as her mouth filled, then again, and lastly poking her tongue up the wet, loose little hole to clean out the inside. At that, Coralie finally responded, pushing up her bottom, to encourage Lalage to lick at her sperm soiled quim. Lalage obliged, lapping come from the shallow pit of Coralie’s virgin hole and from between the fleshy little lips before turning her attention to the clitoris. Coralie moaned again, but this time with abandoned lust. Lalage pushed her face well in, her senses swimming with the scent of male sperm and her friend’s body. Coralie began to come, her fat little bottom tightening in Lalage’s face. Her anus contracted hard, to squeeze out yet more sperm over Lalage’s nose. She cried out, in ecstasy, calling Lalage’s name, over and over, only for the words to change, to those of a prayer for forgiveness.

  Lalage sat back, silent, knowing that it was pointless to try and lift Coralie from her guilt-ridden misery. For a moment she considered masturbating, but the thought of Father Glauter and the whipping she would undoubtedly get for pleasuring herself deterred her. So she sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for Coralie to stop sulking.

  She had hardly settled herself when the bell chimed. Voices sounded, first that of a man, presumably Father Glauter’s servitor, then others, female. Intrigued, Lalage jumped down from the bed to put her eye to the keyhole. Father Glauter could be seen, pouring pale amber Cortado from a decanter into three glasses. The glasses full, he held one out and a second individual appeared, the Prioress, then, as the three seated themselves, a third, Mother Radegund.

  ‘I fear that I have news of concern,’ the Priest began immediately. ‘I learn from his Eminence that a Quaestor is to be sent to the nunnery, the Blessed F
ather Urian Thane.’

  ‘Thane?’ the Prioress answered. ‘He is senior in the order. This is poor news.’

  ‘Poor indeed, Blessed Mother. The Cardinal was quite clear, but knows nothing of the reasons for the visit.’

  ‘I thank you, Blessed Father,’ the Prioress stated, ‘as usual, you earn what we provide many times over. Probably the visit is random, or some jealous rumour may have reached the Pontiff’s ear, but we must prepare for every eventuality, and present him with a face of absolute purity. For one thing our dedication to poverty is questionable…’

  Father Glauter gave a light laugh, echoed by Mother Radegund. Lalage pressed closer to the keyhole, ignoring Coralie, who was tugging urgently on her shoulder. The Prioress continued to speak.

  ‘…replace the gold plate in chapel with pewter. Tapestries, carpets, curtains; all such are to be put in store, save those of religious significance. I feel we may risk those artistic items donated to us, but they must be presented with less ostentation. We must also appear more frugal in our meals.’

  She paused to sniff and sip at her glass of Cortado, then sighed and went on.

  ‘Then there is the matter of piety. We must enforce our rules to the letter. Hoods are to be worn raised at all time. We must impose the rule of silence properly, we have been far too lax. Supplicants are to go naked, excepting only Scholars. Increase Pillory, so each set is full every day, and have the girls’ heads shaved as an additional punishment. What do we know of this Thane’s character?’

  ‘He is said to be cold rather than cruel,’ Father Glauter answered. ‘and a fanatic for exactitude. If all is in order we need fear nothing.’

  ‘Then all must be in order. Mother Radegund, what of our ledgers?’

  ‘He will find that they balance exactly,’ Mother Radegund answered, ‘should he trouble to inspect them.’

  ‘He will,’ Father Glauter assured them. ‘He is known for his precise manner not only in matters of religion.’

  ‘What of Supplication?’ Mother Radegund asked.

  ‘It must proceed as normal,’ the Prioress stated. ‘To do otherwise would be to arouse suspicion. Besides, with demand so high, we dare not risk our ability to provide. I imagine Thane will be staying at the palace, Blessed Father?’

  ‘He will,’ Glauter answered.

  ‘Then what needs to be done will be completed late at night. Should questions arise, we need merely say that the girls have been sent to one of our remoter farms. I doubt any such questions will arise, our Supplicants being the last matter a Quaestor would think to deal with.’

  Father Glauter gave a light laugh.

  * * *

  It was another month before the arrival of the Quaestor, on the day before the Rite of Supplication. Lalage saw him first in chapel, then at the subsequent Pillory. He was a small man, his body invisible, save for the occasional glimpse of a great hooked nose or deep set, burning eyes beneath the hood of his purple robe. Father Glauter, and even the Prioress treated him with a wary respect bordering on fear. His reaction was entirely neutral, speaking only when necessary, and then quietly and with few words.

  Lalage, like every other Supplicant, was stark naked, and shivering slightly in the cool morning air, with goose-pimples on her skin and her nipples erect. Ten girls hung in the pillory, forlorn and miserable with their heads shaved bald. Seven of them had their faces smeared with dung, drawing out the ritual. It was also conducted in absolute silence save for the formal words, the cries of the beaten girls, and the clang and squash of the dung bucket. The enforcement of the rule of silence had already been made plain, with the entire queue at ablutions made to touch their toes for a dose of the quirt. Lalage’s cuts stung bitterly, and she held her tongue then, and for the rest of the day. Not until they were in dormitory together that evening did they dare to talk.

  ‘He is the Quaestor, the man in purple we saw?’ Nest asked.

  ‘Yes, and senior enough to pass judgement on the Cardinal himself,’ Lucilla answered. ‘That is the Blessed Father Urian Thane. He is said to be high in the Order of St Aidan, perhaps even a Prefect.’

  ‘Does not his robe dictate his rank?’ Nest asked.

  ‘Not entirely,’ Lucilla explained. ‘Two robes only are used among the Order of St Aidan, purple for the Elders, white with a border of purple for the remainder, known as Journeymen.’

  ‘Why would such a man come here, to a simple nunnery?’ Benedicta asked.

  ‘Who knows? Perhaps he is seeking out heretical opinion,’ Coralie suggested. ‘Sometimes I have heard the nuns blaspheme, and…’

  ‘This is not a simple nunnery,’ Lucilla pointed out. ‘Our Lady of St Quay is the wealthiest Order of all. Possibly they are felt to have become too worldly, or too influential. Still, it is little enough to us. You, as mere Supplicants, are by nature sinful, yet curable. Short of some blatant act of sacrilege or heresy, nothing you do will be of interest to him. What it does mean, is that the magpies will be walking on egg shells, and none keen to draw attention to herself, which gives us a chance to enjoy ourselves.’

  ‘Surely the opposite,’ Lalage said doubtfully. ‘When I overheard the Blessed Mother Berengaria Aesu, she stated that rules would be tightened, with silence enforced, punishments at full rigour, and Pillory full each morning, as it has been. They will be on the look out for misbehaviour.’

  ‘The rules have been tightened, yes,’ Lucilla agreed, ‘which means more time and effort on the part of the magpies in enforcing them, thus less time spent…’

  She broke off as the door opened. Novice Corisande appeared, looking worried, and carrying a cane.

  ‘Silence at once, all of you!’ she snapped out, struggling for a tone of command. ‘The first girl who speaks will receive twelve of the cane!’

  ‘Will she?’ Lucilla queried. ‘Is it not more a question of you getting a bare arse whipping from Sister Verena if we’re not well behaved, and of Verena in turn catching it from Elder Sister Aspasia?’

  ‘No,’ Novice Corisande answered. ‘Silence is sacred, so says the Blessed Bulla, and our own Blessed Mother, Berengaria Aesu has decided, in her love for us…’

  ‘Because she fears an accusation of impiety from Quaestor Thane,’ Lucilla interrupted.

  ‘No,’ Novice Corisande insisted, ‘because it is the rule of the Order. Now, tonight there will be no talking, and I really mean that. Silence is to be enforced most strictly. Lalage, touch your toes, it is necessary to remind the Tesserette of the need for obedience.’

  ‘Don’t trouble yourself, Babbles,’ Lucilla yawned.

  ‘Tesserette, please!’ Corisande whined. ‘I must enforce the rules, or I will be caned. Besides, tomorrow is Supplication, the most important day of your lives, and…’

  ‘Tomorrow is indeed Supplication,’ Lucilla interrupted, ‘after which I shall be alone with you here for months before I find myself with a new group of naïve little godlings. As for you four, you will be Novices, training for whatever tedious roles will occupy the rest of your lives.’

  ‘Lady Lucilla, please…’ Corisande tried. ‘I shall send for the Salvatoras…’

  ‘Sister Verena has hinted that I am to be trained as a Salvatora,’ Benedicta stated proudly, ignoring the Novice.

  ‘Fitting, no doubt,’ Lucilla answered her. ‘You have the height, the strength, and more brain than some, although the Lord knows little enough is required. Who knows, maybe you will become an Elder Sister in time, even fill Mother Keturah’s shoes. Nest, I suspect, is for the farms. Coralie, we know, will be an altar girl in chapel, close to Father Glauter, so that the old goat may sodomise her at his convenience.’

  Coralie immediately went scarlet and hid her face in her hands.

  ‘What of you, Lady Lucilla, how many more years do you intend to study?’ Lalage asked.

  ‘Intend to study?’ Lucilla echoed. ‘What makes you think I have any choice in the matter? Ha! Left to my own devices I would never have come within the place! No, I remain here until m
y father finds some suitable Princeling for me to marry, doubtless some drooling half-wit or an illiterate ape from the north. That is my fate, Lalage, perhaps not so very different from your own.’

  ‘My own?’ Lalage said. ‘Yes, what would you say? I am truly no better then a harlot?’

  ‘No!’ Lucilla laughed. ‘You are worse! But do not fear, they will simply put you on a farm, along with little Mouse, tending pigs or goats as you live out a life of pious drudgery.’

  ‘To provide for the Order is a humble but worthy vocation,’ Nest stated. ‘I would be glad to take whatever role I am allotted, be it…’

  ‘No doubt,’ Lucilla cut in, ‘but for tonight we should celebrate. We shall go out to the tower room, where we can take our pleasure without fear of interference, perhaps with a few bottles of wine…’

  ‘Lady Lucilla, I can not permit this!’ Corisande objected.

  ‘Why so? Come with us. Stop being so dour for once.’

  ‘It is unthinkable! I am an Initiate of this Order, Tesserette. Now, you will do as you are told, or I must fetch the Salvatoras.’

  She had moved towards the door, but found her way blocked by Benedicta. Fear showed in her face, and she backed away immediately, only to bump into Lucilla, who took her firmly around the waist, trapping her arms.

  ‘Tie her, Benedicta,’ Lucilla ordered. ‘Lalage, help.’

  Lalage hesitated, but Benedicta had already ducked down, to take hold of the struggling Novice’s legs.

  ‘No!’ Corisande squealed. ‘You must not…you can not! You…’

  Her protests turned to muffled squeals as Lucilla jammed a handful of hood into her mouth.

  ‘Will you help me!?’ Benedicta demanded of Lalage. ‘Pull off her stockings as I hold her legs!’

  ‘This is foolish!’ Coralie squealed as Lalage ducked down. ‘We’ll be on Pillory for a week, we’ll…’

  She went abruptly quiet, staring in horror as Benedicta and Lalage grappled with Corisande’s frantically kicking legs. One long woollen stocking was pulled off, and the other, leaving the Novice with her robe pushed up far enough to show the furry bush of her sex as Lalage twisted a stocking into place, around Corisande’s knees. It was tied off, and Lucilla let go. Corisande fell to the ground with a grunt, and the next instant her arms had been twisted behind her back, for Benedicta to tie the second stocking into place. Lucilla picked up the cane. Corisande rolled to protect her bottom, her eyes wide with fear.