Church of Chains Read online

  After some minutes she rose shakily to her feet and Davis approached her. He ran his hands slowly over her gleaming breasts, tweaking and twisting the nipples painfully. Paula moaned.

  “Open your legs slut,” he said.

  Lost in her misery she didn’t respond in time. She heard a swishing noise and a red-hot blaze of pain exploded across the front of her thighs. Once again she screamed and instinctively turned herself away from the pain. But immediately there was another swish and crack and the pain ripped across her buttocks. Paula pressed herself desperately against the cold tiles as four more lashes were laid on. She screamed as each lash sent spears of hot pain searing through her. Brother Davis repeated his command and this time Paula hurriedly turned and obeyed. She gritted her teeth as the man’s fingers explored her. He pulled open her labia and thrust his fingers roughly up into her vagina which was only lubricated by the water. She gasped and winced as he invaded her, probing deeply at first and then lingering at the nub of her clitoris, stroking, rubbing and circling it. She had closed her eyes to try and shield herself from the shame but as he continued to work on her she opened them to find him studying her face. He was staring hard at her, calm and dispassionate, as if she was some sort of laboratory animal. She closed her eyes hurriedly again. Paula’s body was a blaze of pain even as she was shivering with cold. But to her dismay, as the stimulation went on patiently, minute after minute, she felt herself begin to respond with a moist warmth deep in the pit of her stomach, she was sure she was becoming wet with juices as the pain and pleasure mingled in ways she had never experienced. At last she couldn’t help whimpering and felt that that was the greatest humiliation of all. Brother Davis laughed and withdrew his hand but stared at her thoughtfully. Paula hung her head to avoid his penetrating gaze.

  “She’s either new on the game or very classy to be on the streets. But yet she does a lousy blow job.”

  He put one hand under her chin and lifted her face. “You’re an odd one alright,” he said. Paula panicked for a moment but one of the other men came to her rescue.

  “Don’t knock it Brother. It’ll be a nice change to have a tight little pussy like that to train.”

  Davis smiled and released her. “True enough. Anyway we’ve got work to do.”

  Paula was pushed unceremoniously into the next room where two more of the brothers were waiting. They ordered her against a wall, spreadeagled, and dried her with rough towels taking every opportunity to explore her body as they did so. They passed admiring comments on her breasts, her long thighs and the unusual tightness of her vagina. Once again she found her most secret places being plundered and explored by casual and brutal fingers. But Paula suffered in silence; she was learning.

  When they had finished they put her into what they called a training harness. This consisted of a leather strap clipped onto the ring of her collar and running down to her crotch. Mounted on it were two large phalluses and as the men pulled the strap harshly back between her legs the first phallus pushed imperiously into her vagina causing her to gasp with shock as it pushed her lips apart and thrust up into her. The second did the same with her anus. She couldn’t help giving a little yelp as the rod penetrated the virgin passage and spread the tender tissues. She had never been penetrated there before today, but this was already the second time. The strap was then pulled up tightly, making her cry out again, and the men laugh. Then the strap was buckled to the back of a thick belt which itself buckled tight around her waist. Lastly she was told to fold her arms behind her and her forearms and wrists were bound together. This pulled her shoulders back and pushed out her breasts invitingly. She was told to sit on one of the plain wooden chairs which stood in two rows and faced a small stage at one end of the room, rather like a small classroom. In an ungainly kind of waddle, which the harness forced on her she went to a seat. Her companions were sitting already and Paula noted that Brother Davis had been making free use of his whip on most of them as well. Although they were ungagged, no-one even thought of talking. The dildos pushed up painfully inside her and she found herself squirming in discomfort, as were several other girls.

  At last all ten were present and Brother Davis mounted the stage.

  “You are scum” he said simply. “You are not yet ready to be even novices. You will earn that privilege and Father Burton will now address you and tell you why you are here and what is expected of you.”

  A door at the side of the stage opened and a tall figure in a head-to-toe hooded robe, of the same midnight blue the Sisters wore, entered. Emblazoned on the chest was the red X again. The hood was pulled back and Paula saw a hawk-like face, deeply lined, dark eyed and very impressive. The man was probably in his early fifties she thought, but fit and strong to judge by the confidence with which he held himself.

  “I am Father Burton, Master of this monastery of the Church of Ultimate Purification.”

  Suddenly one of the captives, a tall girl with short black hair interrupted.

  “You’re a bunch of fucking shits! You can’t do this! I know my rights, it’s against the law!”

  Paula groaned inwardly. She knew the type, the barrack room lawyer. Catch them red handed and they would sit in the station all night and swear that black was white. And they knew their rights, oh yes they knew them alright. But this one was too stupid to see that here they were at the mercy of people who considered they had none at all.

  One of the men made a move towards her but Father Burton waved him back and let the girl rant on until she had run out of steam.

  “Bring the whole class to the Punishment Wing,” he said quietly, and left the stage.

  They were lined up in a stone-flagged corridor and made to trot. The brothers’ whips flicked constantly at their legs. Their breasts bounced and the phalluses shifted inside them. They were driven mercilessly onwards making innumerable right and left turns until at last they stopped, panting for breath outside a heavy wooden door. Paula’s large breasts were aching from all the unfettered jiggling and bouncing about.

  The door was opened by another one of the brothers, and they were ushered into a dungeon. It was stone walled and the only window was small, heavily barred and high up. The walls were covered with racks of whips crops and canes, together with chains and restraints of all kinds. There were hoods and cruel looking steel masks. The ceiling was festooned with chains which hung down from hooks embedded in it. The girls looked round in wide-eyed terror.

  As the loud-mouthed girl was separated off and the rest were herded against one wall, they saw that in the centre of the room a strange looking device was already hooked up to two chains. It consisted of a thick metal bar about three feet long attached by several sturdy straps to soft leather boots at each end. The girl was forced, screaming and swearing to the floor where the boots were put on her. They stretched nearly to her knees and were laced up tightly. Her arms were freed and she struck out ineffectually as her harness was calmly removed. Then one of the brothers began to turn a crank handle on one wall and to the onlookers’ horror she was lifted by her feet until her head hung some four feet off the ground, her arms hanging helplessly down and her legs spread wide apart. Paula could now appreciate the design of the boots; attached by so many straps to the bar they would distribute the weight so that there was no interruption of the blood supply. She could hang there for a long time.

  The girl began to scream in earnest now but no-one paid any attention. Two brothers selected whips furnished with a score of lashes about two feet long and placed themselves in front of and behind their victim who was now writhing frantically.

  “Beat her until she attains the silence of submission,” Father Burton said calmly.

  The girl spat the vilest stream of abuse at him that Paula had ever heard from a female but then the punishment began.

  Unhurriedly and keeping to a steady rhythm the brothers laid on the lashes. Because of the weight of the whips’ cords each impact made the girl’s body swing helplessly. She grunted at each heav
y, smacking impact and tried in vain to twist and shield herself. At first her body only swung a little and for a long time she kept up her tirade. But slowly it faded into screams as the whips cracked down relentlessly leaving welts across her breasts and stomach, back and buttocks. Her body began to swing in larger arcs now. Paula tried to count the lashes but winced and lost track at about thirty when the whips began to lash the opened sex, leaving red marks on the insides of the thighs which became more and more livid as the punishment went on. Paula felt her stomach churn at the thought of those lashes slamming into the soft flesh of a female sex, mashing the labia against the delicate skin within and biting up between the buttocks to sting at the secret opening of the anus. At first the girl tried to get her hands up to shield herself but the remorseless beating sapped her energy and soon she was hanging helplessly again. At last the screams became pleas for mercy and then the girl, who was swinging like a pendulum now from one bout of pain to the next, was only whimpering, and finally there was silence. One of the men lowered her to the ground where she lay in a motionless heap. A bucket of cold water was thrown over her and she spluttered and stirred.

  Hauling her up by her arms and dragging her on her knees, two of the men brought her to Father Burton. He bent down and grabbed a handful of hair, yanking her limp head back until she was staring up at him.

  “You have no rights here. And the only law is God’s law, before which you stand condemned. Understand? Now be still and obey or you will return here for further correction.”

  Father Burton smiled grimly as the girl managed a tiny nod. “Display her outside the cells for the rest of the day,” he continued to the brothers and they dragged her away.

  Now Father Burton turned his attention to the terrified group who had witnessed the savagery of the punishment. He smiled bleakly. “Welcome to the Purification Class.”

  Chapter 3

  “You are here to be punished and reformed,” Father Burton went on. “Or as we prefer, rescued and redeemed. By your vile actions you have reduced men whom God decreed to be your masters, to the status of paying customers. You have taken what God gave you freely and made men pay for it. And the lure of the money involved in your filthy trade has brought lawlessness and sin onto the streets.

  “Here you will be purified. You will be returned to your true selves and find again the joy of giving yourselves freely to your masters. And you will find joy in discovering how many ways you can please them. But you will suffer. Because it is only through suffering that true purification and redemption can be gained.

  “All over the country our beloved Patriarch is setting up monasteries like this which will purify all those parts of our society which have become corrupt. We are but a small piece of a truly great plan.”

  Paula watched in horror as a look of reforming zeal came over the Father’s face.

  “But we will play our part! We will take you, and more like you, and turn you into decent women worthy of serving your men!”

  In less than a day Paula had been abducted, chained, abused and beaten. But now she was really frightened. He meant every word he said and her only hope now lay in going so deep undercover that she forgot what she really was. All she could do was survive until help arrived.

  “You are the lowest of the low within this monastery,” Father Burton went on. “When you have proved your worth—and only when you have proved it—you will be considered for the rank of novice. From there you will begin the long climb towards the rank of sister which is the highest honour, bar only one, to which a woman may aspire. And one day you may have the honour of meeting The Patriarch himself.” Father Burton stopped and swept his piercing gaze over his cowering audience. “You will call all men Master from now on, and serve them with your bodies and souls. Take them away Brother Davis.”

  He turned abruptly on his heel and swept out.

  Once again they were formed up in a line and driven back through the corridors, tormented by the whips cracking around their calves and thighs. Sometimes they passed one or two of the girls in white who stood aside and grinned as their sweating, struggling line passed by.

  Eventually they reached their cells. Full-length iron barred doors fronted a row of tiny rooms on their left. On their right was a pillory. And facing the wall, bent over slightly so that her head and wrists were imprisoned by it, was the girl who had been whipped. Paula and the other girls stared. She was sobbing and her heaving back was covered by zigzagging welts which ran across her buttocks and thighs as well.

  Brother Davis gave them time to take in the sight and let their panting subside then his assistants pushed each of them to stand against a door with their backs to it. He stood before them and in front of the girl in the pillory. He raised a hand and delivered two resounding blows to the quivering buttocks behind him. The fleshy smacks echoed and the girl shrieked and writhed.

  “You’ll all suffer worse than this before we’re done with you. So get used to it. Remember the Father’s words; you’re here to discover how to truly please those whom God has made your masters.”

  He landed yet another smack on the tormented girl behind him and grinned at her cry of pain.

  “That pleases me. Do you understand?”

  There was silence.

  “I said, ‘Do you understand?’”

  There was an uncertain chorus of murmurs, and then the whips of all three brothers went to work. One of them was standing beside Paula and she caught the worst of it. He swung at her naked and thrust-forward breasts, getting in a full-blooded lash before she could turn away. It was unlike any pain she had experienced up till then. A fierce trail of white heat shot through her leaving her helplessly gasping for breath and open for a second lash which cracked across her nipples. She screamed and spun round pressing herself against the bars, bruising the soft skin of her breasts again. She heard the whips being plied all up and down the line, each swish and crack being answered by shrieks and screams.

  Just as suddenly as it had started; it stopped.

  “Turn round,” Brother Davis ordered.

  Slowly they all did so.

  “I asked you a question. I expect a proper answer. I asked if you understood.”

  This time there was a hesitant chorus of “Yes Master.”

  Brother Davis nodded grimly.

  They were each pushed roughly into their cells and their training harnesses taken off. Once a long loop of chain from a ring in the wall had been padlocked onto their collars, their arms were untied. Paula had to stand beside her hard little bed until all the girls were tethered and then she was allowed to lie down.

  She lay for a moment conscious only of her nakedness and how the marks of the whip chafed on the rough blanket under her. The thought that she had been whipped went round and round in her head. It was scarcely credible. Only a few hours ago she had been a competent, independent woman and a police officer. Now she was a chained and naked captive at the mercy of brutal men who had hung her in chains, casually opened the most intimate parts of her body, made her perform oral sex and had whipped her. Her heart skipped a beat at the very thought of that outrage. She heard again how the lashes hissed through the air and how they cracked down on vulnerable female flesh. Her hand traced the welt left by the last lash she had suffered. It ran across her breasts and her nipples still ached and throbbed.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Brother Davis. He opened her door and stepped into the tiny room. He said nothing but simply undressed. It had only been a matter of time, Paula thought, before it came to this. She watched him in silence and saw that he was muscular and lean. In particular she noted the broad shoulders and powerful chest, it was no wonder the whip hurt as much as it did when he swung it. His sex was fully erect already and this time Paula could see it clearly. How on earth had she managed to get him into her mouth at all? The shaft was thick and long, sticking up proudly from the thatch of dark hair at its base. Its head was huge and gleaming, she could almost taste it again just looking at it.
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  He came to stand over her and looked down thoughtfully. “Let’s see if you fuck any better than you suck.”

  His words jerked Paula back to the very real danger of her position. To be a prostitute in these men’s hands was bad enough, to be a spy and at their mercy was unthinkable. She had to forget WPC Cheever; she was Paula the slut, the tart now. She fucked for a living.

  She put her hands by her sides and opened her legs. He nodded and then knelt on the bed, astride her. His strong hands reached down and took hold of her breasts.

  “Good big tits. I like that,” he said, and began to knead them, squeezing them and pulling them hard. Then he switched his attentions to her nipples and Paula gritted her teeth to prevent herself from crying out as he pulled hard at them as well and rolled them between thumb and forefinger. He revived the burning pain of the whip and kept on until at last he made her gasp and moan. Then he slapped them. Paula’s eyes opened wide with shock as he did it again, left and then right. The smacks echoed off the stone walls and she cried out again as he slapped for the third time, much harder and she felt the weight of her breast flesh sway across her chest.

  Davis grinned as he lowered himself down onto her. “Nice hard nipples too. They’ll look good under the whip.”

  To her dismay she realised that he was right, she could feel the tightness in her breasts now. And then his hand went down to her sex. His fingers roughly parted her lips and he felt his way up into her. She desperately tried to pretend that she was used to this, that men took her body for their pleasure every day. She opened her legs further and he began to toy with her clitoris. He was brutally rough, rubbing at it and flicking it then feeling up into her vagina again. She could feel his breath on her cheek, his weight was crushing her breasts and his hand went on and on playing with her. And at last, just as it had earlier, her body began to respond as though it had been bludgeoned into submission. Paula moaned as she felt herself moisten and a fire start deep in her belly. Davis felt her juices begin to flow over his fingers and he laughed softly. He shifted his position on her and Paula raised her hips to offer herself to his sex. It was what a good professional would do, she told herself and gave a throaty gasp as she felt him push into her and fill her passage. He began to move slowly inside her and she could feel her body try and grip his shaft. Suddenly he withdrew until only the head of his rigid member was inside her. Instinctively she arched her back and reached down to hold his hips and stop him from slipping out.