‘Gladly,’ Sabina answered.
‘You intend to steal wine?’ Rosabel asked. ‘To get drunk?’
‘It is common sense,’ Benedicta stated firmly, ‘and I for one intend to reserve a bottle for tomorrow. The Service of Initiation is four hours in length, and includes a sermon on the importance of retaining Humility as Novices from Father Glauter.’
‘Common sense indeed,’ Sanchia agreed.
* * *
Lalage awoke to the feel of a hand on her shoulder and a stern command.
‘Up!’
Her eyes came open, fear welling up, and confusion, her mind still hazy with sleep. Two tall figures knelt by her pallet, both robed in black. Two more stood across the room, beside Benedicta. Outside it was pitch black.
‘Sisters, I…’ she managed, only to fall silent as strong fingers took a pinch of her cheek.
‘Up!’ the order was repeated.
The Salvatora pulled at Lalage’s cheek, forcing her to rise. Fresh light showed as Lucilla’s door came open, to outline the slender figure of the Tesserette in black against yellow, with Corisande behind.
‘What is this? How dare you disturb my sleep?’ Lucilla demanded.
A Salvatora turned to face her.
‘This is a matter of discipline, Tesserette d’Ortaise, and no concern of yours.’
Anger flared in Lucilla’s eyes, but she hesitated, losing her moment as Lalage and Benedicta were hustled from the room. Confused and scared, Lalage tried to hang back, only to be urged on her way with a vicious flick of a quirt. Stumbling in the poor light, they were marched down stairs, along one corridor, then another, to a high, dark door set in the end of a passage. One of the Salvatoras moved forward, to unlock the door, and they were urged through, into a low, long cellar, with thick arches stretching away into the gloom.
With the Salvatoras gripping their arms, they were hurried forward, to where several other nuns stood, Sister Verena, the other two Junior Preceptresses, Hodierna and Hawise, Elder Sister Aspasia and several Salvatoras. There were other girls too, both Sabina and Sanchia, Rosabel, also Ysemay, who Lalage remembered as one of Father Glauter’s girls. Six others she knew less well completed the group, each naked, each seriously apprehensive as they eyed each other, the nuns, and the line of devices ranged along the centre of the cellar.
There were six. In form like children’s rocking horses, but of black iron, and made grotesque by the absence of heads. More grotesque still, a thick phallus of polished wood rose up from the saddle of each. The carving of these was horribly lifelike, the fat heads and heavily veined shafts reminding her of Father Glauter’s peculiarly ugly cock. Each had a scrotum as well, a bulging, wrinkled sac, sticking out towards the horses’ necks. Lalage could only stare, and imagine the pain as her virgin quim settled onto a huge, wooden cock, which she was certain would be her fate. Rosabel found the courage to voice the same fear.
‘Our…our virginity is to be taken?’ she managed.
‘Stupid girl!’ Sister Verena snapped, and caught Rosabel a powerful cuff across the head. ‘The phallus goes into your anus.’
‘Why?’ Ysemay croaked.
‘Silence!’ Sister Verena stormed. ‘Unless, that is, you wish to go onto the horse with a dozen new cane cuts decorating your fat backside. You will be told what to do, and there is no need for questions. Take this, grease your arse.’
She had reached into her robe, to pull out a large clay pot. Ysemay took it with an expression of digust, and twisted off the top to reveal a thick, yellow grease.
‘You’ll do it well if you have any sense.’ Sister Hawise said, raising a brief laugh from her colleagues, ‘or maybe you won’t need to, if what we hear of Father Glauter and yourself is half true!’
Ysemay responded with a numb nod, and dipped her finger into the grease, to draw out a large blob. Passing the pot to Rosabel, she reached back, pushing out her bottom as her hand went between her cheeks. There was a wet sound as her finger went up her bottom. For an instant the expression on her face softened as she began to ease her passage.
‘Six of you, grease yourselves, and on the horses,’ Elder Sister Aspasia ordered, breaking off a conversation with one of the Salvatoras. ‘Ysemay, Rosabel…Epiphany, Benedicta, Ginevra, Meliora. You others, watch as they ride, one behind each.’
She caught Rosabel’s already heavily marked behind a cut with her quirt as she came close, sending the plump girl into a peculiar hopping dance as she struggled for balance with one finger still up her bottom. For a moment Aspasia’s tiny mouth curved up into a cruel smile, before she spoke again.
‘You twelve are the least of the least, those who have reacted to castigation not with the humility and holy joy appropriate, but with lewd response, who have sinned without repentance, who have failed in even the simplest things. You are nothing, less than the beasts of the field, for they know not what they do. Yet in our love for you, and in the hope of bringing you pure to the Lord, we allow a final chance. Those who, through prayer and the contemplation of their sins, remain aloof from the temptations of their bodies in this test, will be accepted for Initiation, and into whatever scheme of training is deemed appropriate. Those who fail will have proved themselves no more than harlots. They will be shamed, and sent out from St Quay, never to know the joys of union with our Lord.’
Lalage glanced around, noting with a sinking feeling that all the girls were also among the prettiest of the Supplicants. All her old fears came back, stronger than before, thinking not just of the disgrace of expulsion, but whether it might be a lie to cover a worse fate.
‘Mount up!’ Elder Sister Aspasia ordered. ‘Come, come, what are you waiting for? Epiphany, why do you hesitate, by all accounts you have had your finger up your arse before, and more besides!’
Epiphany looked down in shame, but stuck her finger firmly up her bottom and began to wriggle it around to grease herself properly. Elder Sister Aspasia chuckled and cracked the quirt against the rich black skin of Meliora’s bottom, making her jump and squeal.
‘Mount up, I said!’ she repeated. ‘Come, aren’t you glad for a chance to fill your arses? You others, into line!’
Lalage moved quickly as a Salvatora stepped towards her, behind the nearest horse, onto which Rosabel was climbing. The Salvatora hit her with the cane anyway, twice, before moving on to push Sanchia into place behind Benedicta.
In front of Lalage, Rosabel had straddled the horse, settling so that the phallus reared up behind her, a grotesque sight against the fat, pale moon of her rump. She looked back, apprehension writ large on her soft, pretty face as she lifted her bottom. Lalage winced as the bulbous cock head pushed between Rosabel’s big, fleshy cheeks.
Reaching back, the fat girl pulled her buttocks apart, to show off her anus, the ring already tight around the wooden cock head. Rosabel’s sex was visible too, the plump pink lips puffy with arousal, the centre wet, the clitoris a milky bump among the folds of flesh. Lalage sighed as she realised that once penetrated, Rosabel’s quim would be pressed firmly to the wrinkled wooden surface of the scrotum.
Rosabel settled a little, her anus stretching wider on the cock head, then stopped, panting in reaction. Lalage bit her lip in both sympathy and apprehension for her own bottom hole, as the phallus was considerably larger than anything she had been made to accommodate. Rosabel was not the only reluctant one, but Ysemay was doing it, her anus opening easily, spreading to the fat wooden head of the phallus and taking in the full, thick length of the shaft with a long squelch. Settled, she wriggled her bottom into place, clearly far from uncomfortable.
‘Come on, up with those cocks!’ Elder Sister Aspasia called. ‘A dozen of the cane to any girl not properly on her phallus on the count of ten.’
Immediately the girls’ reluctance vanished. Rosabel grunted and the cock head was in, leaving her anus a taut pink ring on the shaft, which slid slowly up into her body as she let her weight settle. As her huge bottom spread over the saddle of the horse, Lalage
heard her whisper a prayer.
Ginevra had also succeeded, her neat white bottom fully penetrated, with the phallus clearly visible in her straining anus as she sat, bolt upright, on her horse. Meliora was also nearly there, riding on the phallus as if taking a man in sodomy. Her ring showed coal black around the shaft of her phallus as she settled. A line of vivid pink rectal flesh appeared as she rose to pull out some grease, and disappeared again as she settled, each thrust working the phallus deeper into her rectum. As Elder Sister Aspasia reached eight, Meliora finished, and Epiphany an instant later, with a gasp of pain as she forced herself to take the last inch. Only Benedicta was left, her face set in pain, her bottom hole stretched wide, but not even the head of her phallus inside her.
‘…ten,’ Elder Sister Aspasia stated. ‘What is this? Do not tell me that big, strong Benedicta can not even accommodate a little dildo in her bottom?’
‘Mercy, Elder Sister Aspasia, I beg you!’ Benedicta sobbed. ‘I can not take it!’
Elder Sister Aspasia reached out, to take a firm hold on Benedicta’s hips and pull her down. Benedicta screamed and began to babble.
‘No…please…mercy…I will tear…have mercy, please…’
Sister Verena had come close, and peered in at Benedicta’s straining bottom hole before speaking.
‘Yes, she is telling the truth. Her capacity is poor. A shame, as she juices so well, but Elder Sister Amicia would not thank us.’
‘Very well,’ Elder Sister Aspasia answered. ‘You may climb down, Benedicta. Go to the Salvatoras.’
Utter relief showed on Benedicta’s face as she dismounted, her anus closing slowly as the phallus left it. She was grimacing, and waddling a little as she went to the black-robed nuns. They took her arms, forcing her to bend. She said nothing, bracing herself as one lifted a cane, and only gasping as the vicious implement was lashed down across her buttocks. The twelve strokes were given in a swift, merciless rhythm, leaving Benedicta gasping and stamping a foot for a moment before she recovered herself.
‘Etta, take her to your Hall,’ Elder Sister Aspasia ordered, ‘and see that Mother Keturah is informed.’
‘Immediately, Elder Sister Aspasia,’ the Salvatora answered, Lalage only then realising that it was Sister Etta.
She also realised the import of Elder Sister Aspasia’s words, that Benedicta was to be trained as a Salvatora after all, simply because she had been unable to accommodate the big phallus up her bottom. Her anus twitched and her apprehension grew abruptly stronger as the implications sank in. Lalage watched as Benedicta was led away, glad for her friend, but afraid for herself.
‘Proceed,’ Elder Sister Aspasia stated, nodding to the remaining Salvatoras. ‘One hundred motions, in time, I wish an even test.’
Five of the black-hooded nuns moved forward, each to take the headless neck of a rocking horse. At a nod from Elder Sister Aspasia, each Salvatora pulled down on the neck of her horse, setting it into motion, and grinding the wooden scrotum against the rider’s quim. Rosabel gasped, the others held silence, but their expressions betrayed their emotions, consternation and despair as they felt the polished ridges bump over the most sensitive flesh of their bodies, each clearly guessing the consequences of orgasm.
The Salvatoras quickly increased their pace, until all five girls were bouncing and shivering on the cocks in their bottom holes, gasping too, and clutching at the horses’ necks. Soon the girls’ mouths had begun to grow slack, Rosabel with drool running out over her bottom lip. Their eyes became hooded, their nipples erect, their skin flushed, and still the five Salvatoras rocked the horses, to an even, merciless rhythm.
‘Hold your mind in prayer!’ Elder Sister Hodierna urged. ‘Ignore the stimulation of the cunnus! This is a sensation sent to try you! You must resist!’
‘Silence, Sister,’ Elder Sister Aspasia chided immediately. ‘The triumph over sin is a struggle to be fought alone.’
‘You lost then,’ Sanchia whispered from the side of her mouth. ‘Oh Lord, look!’
‘Silence!’ Sister Verena snapped, and an instant later her quirt smacked down across Sanchia’s bottom.
Sanchia barely flinched, her eyes on Rosabel, as were everyone else’s. The fat girl was coming, and lost to everything but her pleasure. Her eyes were closed in bliss, her mouth wide, with a long ribbon of spittle running down from her lower lip. Her huge breasts were bouncing on her chest, the nipples engorged, and less to the motion of the horse than to her own frantic bucking. She was clutching the horse’s neck, and bouncing and squirming her great, fat bottom on the intruding phallus in a desperate effort to sodomise herself and rub her quim at the same time.
The display was so utterly wanton that Lalage found herself wanting to masturbate as she watched, while her nipples had gone rigid and the juice from her sex was running freely down between her thighs. She closed her eyes, determined not to look, only to open them again as Rosabel went into a series of pig-like squeals, coming in abandoned ecstasy.
‘A slut as well as a fat glutton,’ Elder Sister Aspasia remarked as Rosabel slumped gasping onto the neck of the horse. ‘Increase the rhythm, Sisters.’
The Salvatora controlling Rosabel’s rocking horse had stopped. The others had never paused nor slowed, and now began to rock faster. Ysemay responded with a despairing groan. Ginevra set up a pitiable whimpering. Meliora set her face in stony determination. Epiphany was mumbling prayers.
The next orgasm came suddenly. Ginevra’s whimpering grew suddenly louder. Her head lolled forward, her expression showing utter despair, then sudden ecstasy as she threw her head back. She screamed, damning the Lord, the Order, and finally Elder Sister Aspasia as a witch and a torturer, then breaking off into grunts and wordless babbling as she went into climax, rubbing her own quim on the ridged balls, just as Rosabel had done.
‘Just another slut, after all,’ Sister Hodierna commented. ‘I had thought she might succeed.’
‘Not I,’ Elder Sister Aspasia replied, ‘the state of her cunt ever gave the lie to her pose of modesty, and Ginevra, you need not think those words of blasphemy forgotten, I…but we have another, Sisters.’
It was Ysemay, who had gone into the same lewd, bottom wriggling routine that had come before Rosabel’s orgasm, making the phallus move in her rectum even as she rubbed herself on the balls in helpless ecstasy. She was already coming, in a series of little, panting gasps, her dignity completely lost as she pleasured herself, even when the Salvatora had let go of the horse. The other Salvatoras had stopped too, and Lalage realised that the hundred motions were complete, and that Ysemay had come close to holding off.
‘Three of six,’ Elder Sister Aspasia remarked, ‘and much as I had expected. Climb off now. Meliora, Epiphany, you at least have a measure of decency, though the Lord knows, little enough. Return to your dormitories and think on your coming initiation. Rosabel, Ysemay, Ginevra, wait to the side.’
‘Thank you, Elder Sister Aspasia,’ Epiphany managed as she began to lift herself.
Lalage watched as the five girls dismounted, pulling their bottoms up with sticky sucking noises followed by two loud farts. All five were waddling badly as they dispersed, Meliora also clutching her bottom, with her face set in acute embarrassment as she threw a final glance back over her shoulder.
‘You six, grease your bottoms and mount up,’ Elder Sister Aspasia ordered.
The girl at the end of the line, Asenath, picked up the jar of grease, making a face as she pushed her finger into it. Lalage swallowed hard. Her inner thighs were wet with cunt juice, her need to masturbate strong in her head, and she had not even mounted the phallus. To her side, Sabina was biting a knuckle as she waited to grease her bottom, while her skin was flushed and her nipples were hard. To the other side, Sanchia looked calmer, but she two had stiff nipples, and the distinctive scent of her quim rose up above the general reek of aroused female.
Sabina took the pot, passing it to Lalage before she reached back to grease her bottom hole. Lalage took i
t, scooping out a generous amount with two fingers before passing the pot on. Pushing out her bottom, she slapped the grease between her cheeks, finding her anus immediately receptive, the muscle opening to take both fingers without difficulty. Briefly, she worked her fingers in and out of her bottom, determined not to excite herself unnecessarily, and so at least retain more dignity than Rosabel.
‘Come now, girls, onto the horses with you!’ Elder Sister Aspasia urged, no longer even troubling to try and hide the glee in her voice.
Lalage stepped forward, put a foot onto the base of the iron horse and swung herself into the saddle. Her leg brushed the phallus, still slimy with Rosabel’s juices, and as she settled herself she found it pressed into her bottom cleft and realised it was also still warm from the heat of her friend’s rectum. Sabina had mounted beside her, and already had her bottom poised over the phallus, with her face set in concentration as she tried to accommodate it. Lalage followed suit, rising until the thick bulb of the head was pressed to her hole. Trying to tell herself that the phallus was not really so very much larger than Father Glauter’s cock, she closed her eyes, letting her greasy bottom hole spread slowly on the smooth wood.
Her ring began to open, easily at first, but quickly tight around the fat plug of wood. She set her teeth, forcing herself to relax, and lowered herself a little more. Again her ring began to spread, opening wide as the bulbous tip pushed into her body, until a sudden, sharp stab of pain made her stop. Her breath escaped through her teeth in a hiss, and one of her calf muscles began to twitch uncontrollably. She paused, mumbling prayers under her breath. Suddenly Sister Verena’s voice sounded from behind her.
‘I will have no pretence from you, my little sodomite. I think we both know that you can take the phallus without difficulty.’
‘No…’ Lalage managed as the Sister’s bony hands fastened on her hips.
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