by Tessa Valmur
As she crouched down before the chest and surveyed its offerings, she reflected on how distant her time as a British Secret Service Agent now seemed. Hadn't she learnt at last, that chapter of her life was closed and that now all she needed to focus on was her life here at Shrevra? Her mind went back over how she was now taken on a regular basis by the novice monks to their dormitory and made to serve them.
Of course sometimes she rebelled and she knew what the result would be. Hands grasping her ankles and wrists, the men pulling her down over a bench or perhaps dragging her to the floor. It excited her, the feeling of struggling against so many pairs of hands. Knowing that she could win herself a few moments' reprieve before they overwhelmed her. Her pussy would be wet and aching with anticipation as they held her forcibly down. She would deliberately continue to writhe and twist, making them keep a ruthlessly hard grip on her perspiration soaked limbs. Her heart would be hammering from exertion and eager expectation as her thighs were drawn wider apart. She would cry out, telling them to stop, begging them to leave her alone, fully aware of what this would lead to. Always they seemed to have a ball-gag to hand. A shiny sphere of firm red rubber that filled her mouth completely. She would groan and cry out as the ball settled snugly between her widely stretched jaws and its strap was fastened at her nape. The men would look down at her baleful eyes and they would smile. She would shake her head, begging them to let her go. Her pleading excited them. Then once gagged, her muffled groaning would excite them even more.
By then, she'd be aching for what was to come and she had to fight down the urge not to thrust her arse up invitingly. When the first cock thrust into her, she was already so aroused that it would find her pussy wet with anticipation.
She stared into the chest then glanced back over her shoulder at where Vanessa hung by her arms. The gag whilst stopping her from making any coherent objection to what was done to her had left her able to cry out as each of the girls had taken their turn at punishing her. A girdle had been strapped around her loins that had two massive phalluses: stitched sheaths of leather tightly filled and each far larger than man size. The girls had eagerly inserted them into Vanessa's writhing body then fastened the girdle tightly around her hips. One of the girls had clipped weights to her nipples and another had taken a candle from the altar and dripped wax across her breasts. By now, she was in a pitiful state and Zoe felt a momentary pang of sympathy for her. Still, if she faltered, she would be courting punishment herself.
She took a long coil of fine rope from the bottom of the chest and walked slowly back to where Vanessa was held. The young blonde girl being blindfolded had no way of knowing what was about to befall her next. Well, Zoe told herself, the time had come to repay Auda's little tart for all the torment she'd inflicted upon her. And she'd never know just what Zoe had done to her!
Zoe looped the rope around one of Vanessa's luscious breasts and drew the slipknot tight. The hemp rope was waxed and slid smoothly tighter and tighter, until it drew the mound of soft flesh in at its base and the breast hung down, its heaviness accentuated. Vanessa groaned plaintively through the two rods that held her jaws wide.
Zoe drew the rope tight and began to repeatedly loop it around her victim's breast, drawing it so tight each time that Vanessa writhed madly, shaking her head and gurgling in protest through the gag. She then dealt with her other breast in similar fashion before stepping back to regard her handiwork with an air of satisfaction.
The Colonel stepped forward and regarded Vanessa with an air of satisfaction. Zoe had been the last girl to punish the new arrival and now all the girls stood together in a respectful semi-circle awaiting their next order. For a moment the only sound was that of Vanessa's strained breathing and plaintive whimpering.
'We shall leave her like that for a while to contemplate all that she has learnt,' the Colonel announced. 'Well done girls, everyone go back to your work apart from Zoe. You can come with me'
The Colonel's private quarters were located on the top floor of the main residential hall of the monastery complex. The views were stunning, his collection of Far Eastern artefacts amazing, his furnishings - a blend of western and eastern - opulent and decadent. Zoe was led into the apartment on a collar and leash by one of the younger monks. Her arms were drawn behind her back, her wrists bound with a slim cord and she could feel it cutting into her skin. She stood obediently still while the Colonel poured himself a drink and lit a cigarette. After studying the view as if seeing it for the first time, he turned and regarded her. Slowly he allowed himself to smile; something rare by his standards and Zoe felt it more disconcerting than his usual angry glare.
'They say you're a British Secret Service agent. You don't look like one; but then looks can be deceiving.'
Zoe said nothing as the man circled her, eyeing her up and down critically.
'You don't look very British. More Mediterranean, I would hazard.'
The man sifted Zoe's dark hair through the fingers of one hand then ran his hand down her bare arm and lightly brushed the back of it over the swell of her right breast.
'I'm half Spanish,' Zoe said, glancing up at the man and surprised to see him nod and smile in response.
'You're a pretty young lady. And fairly subservient too, from what I hear. Well, the question is how subservient do you really like to be?'
'I don't understand...' Zoe stammered, her gaze following the man as he circled her.
'All the girls who are here learn to enjoy their suffering - up to one degree or another. I know a little of what you've been through Miss Farquerson and it seems to me that you have great potential. Very great potential...'
Zoe said nothing in reply but her heart was hammering with excitement. She could still clearly remember the day she'd fallen foul of Stonefield and Mosafa; the heady rush of sexual arousal as she had been taken to the basement of the Arab's tower and tortured. The delicious feeling of helplessness as the two Arab youths had tethered her then punished her. Now she felt like that again and her body ached at the thought of receiving some new experience in punishment, something even more severe than anything she'd been put through up till now.
The Colonel swung away from her and walked back to where he'd left his drink. Zoe watched him pick up the glass, the ice cubes tinkling. He took a slow mouthful and nodded to the monk who stood holding Zoe by the leash.
'Take her to the gallery.'
Zoe was led through into another room, an unfurnished room with a polished wood floor and whose windows were screened by paper blinds that let in light but kept the room screened from any watching eyes on the outside. The array of smooth wooden poles and gleaming white ropes made Zoe falter in her tracks even as her pulse quickened in eagerness at the thought of being bound again. It was always the same; fear of the pain that she loved because it made her so aroused.
'Please... don't...' she stammered.
'If you start protesting, you'll only make things worse for yourself. Do you want that?'
'No...'Zoe shook her head.
'I think Brother Simon, the horizontal pole for her,' the Colonel announced, as matter-of-factly as if he was choosing clothes for her, as he lightly patted Zoe's exposed rump.
The monk led her across to where a four-foot pole hung suspended from a rope at each end. The collar was unfastened from her throat and discarded and the monk told Zoe to kneel. She did as she as instructed.
'Hold your arms out and back behind you.'
Zoe obeyed. The cool length of the pole came to rest against her back just below her shoulder-blades.
'Now lower your arms so they're the other side of the pole.'
Zoe did as she was told, glancing as she responded at the Colonel who stood watching, his drink still in hand, smoke curling from the cigarette he held.
'Brother Simon is our most accomplished rope binder. He understands perfectly the limits of stress and discomfort that the human body can be put under.'
As the Colonel spoke the monk was drawing a rope aroun
d Zoe's chest close under her generous breasts. She glanced down to see him wrapping each end repeatedly around the pole at either side of her and then the ends of the rope were drawn back across her chest just above her breasts. They were then pulled together behind her and knotted at her back just above where the pole pressed against her. Zoe felt the first stirrings of panic as she knew she was now held against the pole. She forced herself to keep calm. There was no point in resisting, she reminded herself, she had no choice. Already her pussy felt moist with arousal and she knew that the more intense the punishment the more exquisite would be her orgasm when it finally came.
'I have to say Miss Farquerson, other girls have objected to such treatment and occasionally it has been necessary for Brother Simon to receive the assistance of several of our brotherhood at this stage of the proceedings.'
'There's hardly any point in trying to escape whatever you've got planned for me, is there?' Zoe replied tersely, momentarily alarmed at the thought that these men might suddenly guess just how much she got off on being treated like this and then what would they do to her!
'Precisely. Very perceptive of you,' the Colonel smiled whilst Zoe grimaced as the monk tightened and knotted another rope around her arms just above her elbows. Experimentally she tried to flex her arms and her first assumption was confirmed - her arms were now secured; she was held to the pole. The second rope was tied below where the first was bound around the pole and this meant it was now impossible for her to extricate herself from the pole.
Zoe remained kneeling and passive as the monk took another rope and bound it in a figure of eight around her wrists. She glanced up at the Colonel and saw his cotton trousers bulging at the crotch as he watched her. She glared at him but said nothing. Why give him the satisfaction? She told herself.
'Feeling nice and comfortable, Miss Farquerson?'
Zoe ignored the Colonel's jibe as the monk took a fresh rope and drew it tightly around her waist. Sure, the ropes were tight but they didn't hurt, the now familiar sensation was in truth delicious, but she'd never admit that to them. The monk wrapped the rope again around her waist and drew it even tighter.
'Uhh...' Zoe sighed obligingly as if in acute discomfort and saw the gleam of satisfaction in the monk's eye. Again the rope was drawn around her waist before both ends were then wrapped around her arms. As the rope was pulled tighter Zoe's arms were drawn closely against the small of her back and glancing down she could see her waist tightly cinched.
'No tighter... please...' she begged, knowing full well such pleading would delight the man stood watching.
The Colonel smiled with satisfaction and stepped in front of Zoe. He flicked a few loose strands of her blonde hair clear of her face then lifted her chin with one finger.
'My dear, Brother Simon has hardly begun, so save your begging for later.'
'No more, please...' Zoe shook her head, looking up imploringly at the man who stood over her.
'Hush now... wriggling will only add to your discomfort.'
While the Colonel spoke the monk forced his fingers under the rope where it dug into her stomach. Zoe glanced down to watch him then secure another rope with a slipknot to the waist rope. Pulling his fingers clear, the rope snapped back tightly against her panting stomach.
Zoe stared, mesmerised as the monk, with practised ease, made a succession of knots in another rope and then tied one end of the rope to the rope around her waist. The knotted rope was then left dangling down between her legs. He fastened two separate ropes around both her ankles. These ropes were then stretched up and over the wooden pole and as they were pulled taut, Zoe's feet then calves were lifted clear of the floor.
'Oww... going to fall forwards...no...'
But she didn't fall forwards. The ropes holding her to the pole prevented that. She was left though with only her knees touching the floor.
'If I use a second pole Colonel we can suspend her fully.'
'Do it.'
'No... please don't...'
Another wooden pole was placed against Zoe's ankles at the backs of her legs, which were then bound to it.
'Now the fun begins,' announced the Colonel as the monk reached for the knotted rope that hung from her waist. Suddenly Zoe knew what the rope was for and why every few inches it had been made into knots.
'No...'
Zoe shook her head in protest as the rope was drawn tightly down. The monk parted the lips of her sex with one hand and drew the rope tight, the knots sinking deeply into the folds of soft flesh.
'No! Uhh...'
The rope was drawn up behind her, the tension increased and then it was knotted fast around the rope that cinched her waist. The knots of rope biting deeply into her sex, Zoe was left writhing wildly while the Colonel and the monk regarded her with an air of cruel satisfaction.
'How do you feel now, Miss Farquerson?'
Zoe glared at the man regarding her with such obvious malicious amusement. The muscles in her legs and arms ached. Her breasts felt acutely vulnerable, the ropes close around them accentuating their defencelessness. Her waist was bound so tightly she was forced to take just shallow breaths and these now were coming fast as her adrenaline increased as she sensed now her torture was really about to begin. The tormenting agony of the hard knots of rope pressing into her pussy was like an itch she couldn't scratch! How long would she have to wait before this man decided to whip her or fuck her? Zoe struggled against the ropes, all too aware of how pleased the men were with her performance.
'Raise the other pole please, Brother Simon.'
Zoe watched helplessly as the monk fed the ropes bound to the other pole through wooden rings fastened to the ceiling. As the ropes were pulled tight, Zoe's ankles were lifted higher, then her knees were abruptly drawn out from under her and she was left dangling a foot or so above the floor.
'Can't bear it... stop it! Let me down!'
Zoe shook her head, tears running down her cheeks, her hair dangling over her face obscuring her view as she was left suspended and struggling hopelessly.
'Her breasts look most enchanting now don't they?'
'Yes, Colonel.'
Zoe was gasping and panting hard, her aching body now brought to an even greater point of torment. The rope buried in her pussy now goaded her even more and though her tousled hair brushed the floor, it remained frustratingly just out of reach.
'She'll not suffer any permanent injury I trust, Brother Simon?'
'None at all Colonel.'
'Fetch my cane would you?'
'Certainly, Colonel.'
'No... please!'
Zoe tried to look up to make eye contact with her tormentor but her hair kept her view obscured. The perspiration was pouring off her body, the agony of the ropes seemed unbearable but there was no escape and she knew she would be shown no mercy - yet.
'I suppose you think your plight couldn't possibly get any worse.'
The cane lightly struck her left thigh as the question was posed. Zoe shook her head and managed to answer without bursting into tears again.
'No... I know it could be worse,' she gasped.
'How right you are.'
The cane flicked against her ribcage, a little harder this time.
'Of course, it could be much worse couldn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Can you imagine how much worse?'
The cane struck her left breast. Zoe yelped in alarm. The stinging sensation making her eyes smart but she still managed to answer.
'I think so...'
'Yes, I believe you probably can imagine how much worse things can get.'
The cane hit her left arm across her taut bicep making Zoe jerk and before she could stop herself she blurted out:
'Please, don't make it any worse for me! Please!'
'Had enough then have we?'
The stinging pain of another cane strike to her right breast made her howl the answer.
'Yes! Yes!'
'So if you don't suffer any more than you ar
e now, you'll be content?'
'Yes...yes...' Zoe sobbed, unable to control her tears now.
'Well Brother Simon, if I understand her correctly, Miss Farquerson would be pleased to be left the way she is.'
'That is what she said, Colonel.'
Zoe struggled to lift her head and groaned with dismay as she heard what the two men said. Surely now they'd untie her, take her down and give her some new and equally exquisite punishment?
'But you can't leave me like this!' she blurted.
'But my dear girl, you just said you were content to be left like this. Are you changing your mind?'
The cane snapped down hard close under Zoe's right breast making her cry out.
'Well? Do you want more attention given to you? Are you aching to feel the cane against your soft skin as well as the bite of the hard ropes?'
The cane cracked across her rump making her howl. What was she to do? The piquant bite of the cane was making her pussy ache deliciously but the ropes from which she dangled really were starting to hurt
'Let me down! Please! Whip me, do anything to me! Just let me down first... I can't take anymore!'
Chapter Twelve
Vanessa knocked and waited nervously, her heart hammering. It was the first time that she had been ordered to serve the Colonel. It had been a month since she'd arrived at Shrevra and a month since she'd last seen Zoe. During that time she'd never been left wanting for sexual stimulation: the merest act of misbehaviour would assure her of some swift punishment from the monks. Their discipline brought her as much pleasure as pain, though she was careful to conceal the fact. What worried Vanessa though was the thought that she might stick at Shrevra forever. Whilst playing the submissive was now already in her nature, she was damned if she would be made to stay in the place for much longer serving these men. Compared with serving her past hedonistic masters, the austere life at Shrevra really felt like a prison sentence.
