I'd worked in the garden with the girl for over an hour. She'd told me that her name was Juliet, but would say no more. She was nervous, anxious, and I reckoned that a mixture of fear and shyness had gripped her. And no doubt the lesbian act she'd been forced to commit had traumatized her. I have to admit that having another girl's tongue in my vagina, licking inside my bottom, had shocked me. I couldn't get the thought out of my head, the girl's tongue entering my vaginal canal, slipping deep into my rectum. What had she thought about the crude act? What did I think?
There was no sign of the Mother Superior, and I again wondered what was going on as I pulled the weeds between the rows of lettuces. Juliet worked quietly, hardly glancing at me when I tried to make conversation. This was only her second day at the nunnery, and she'd already been through hell. She wasn't strong, I knew as I watched her, the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. At least I was positive, determined to escape. I dreaded to think how Juliet would react to the monk, his sexual abuse.
"You, girl," the Mother Superior called from an open window. "Sister Juliet. Report to my study this instant."
As the girl wandered across the garden, I knew that she was in trouble. Did the monk want her? Was he going to take her young body and pleasure himself? Shuddering as I thought about the hell she was about to endure, I knew that there was nothing I could do. She was on her own, as I had been. I was about to carry on with the weeding when I thought I heard a noise and looked at the bushes at the far end of the garden. Hoping that it was the young man, I was surprised to see Elizabeth's face peering out of the bushes. She was beckoning me with her finger, pointing to the orchard, and I assumed that she wanted to meet me in the secret clearing. Leaving the trowel in the ground, I glanced at the open window before scurrying away. The Mother would soon be busy with Juliet, I knew as I slipped through the orchard. Busy sexually abusing her naked body with the evil monk.
"Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked as I slipped into the bushes and sat beside her.
"I will be when I get out of this place," I replied. "I think something's going on."
"You're right," she whispered. "Some people have arrived."
"People?"
"Several men. They're in the Mother's study."
"Who are they?" I asked hopefully. Had they come to rescue us? "What do they want?"
"Don't get too excited, Mary. I don't know what they want, but I did hear one of them saying something about the dungeon."
"Perhaps they're here to..."
"Mary, I think they're here to use the dungeon."
"Use it? What do you mean?"
"To use us."
"Oh," I sighed, hanging my head.
"I may be completely wrong. I certainly hope so. I only heard a few words, probably out of context."
"Right, I'm not staying here for a minute longer," I said assertively. "There's a hosepipe in the greenhouse. I'm going to find some sort of hook and throw the hose over the wall and use it like a rope. Are you with me?"
"Mary, I really don't think..."
"No? OK, I'll go alone."
Leaving the bushes, I headed straight for the greenhouse. There was no way I was going to endure crude sexual abuse at the hands of several men. Dragging the hose out of the greenhouse, I realized that I didn't care about the Mother Superior. In my determination to escape, I was oblivious to my surroundings as I raced through the grounds. Hoping there were trees the other side of the wall I tied the end of the hose into a loop. Throwing the loop several times, only to have the hose come tumbling down on me, I finally caught something the other side of the wall. Pulling on the hose, I grinned. I'd done it. But now came the difficult part.
Ripping my wimple off, I grabbed the hose and began inching my feet up the rough bricks. The barbed wire running along the top of the wall was the least of my worries. Once at the top, a few cuts would be well worth the small price to pat for freedom. Climbing the wall was far easier than I'd thought. Fortunately, I was slim and lightweight, easily reaching the top within a minute or so. Clambering over the barbed wire, I looked down at the ground on the other side of the wall. It was quite a jump, but I made it. Climbing to my feet, I grabbed the hose and pulled it over the wall. I'd been lucky; the loop I'd made had fallen over the branch of a tree. Perhaps there was a God.
"I've done it," I beamed, wondering which way to run. Heading into the trees and trying to determine my direction, I was sure that I'd come across the lane. My habit would be a give away, but I'd steal some washing from a clothesline. Perhaps I should travel across country and... I was free, and that was all that mattered. I'd only ventured about twenty yards into the trees when I came across another wall. Thinking that the farm must have been the other side, I followed the wall for some hundred yards. I could hear a car in the lane, and new that I didn't have far to go as I trampled through the undergrowth.
Finally sitting on the ground to rest, I became confused. Surely, there weren't two walls surrounding the nunnery? The second wall was as high as the first, but again no trees overhung it. Plodding on between the two walls, I finally decided to go back and get the hosepipe. There was no way over the second wall, apart from using the hose as a rope. Imaging myself swinging from the hose like Tarzan, I reached the spot where I thought I'd landed but couldn't see the hose. Tramping on, there was no sign of the hose, and I thought that I must have got lost.
Knowing that I'd soon be missed, I walked on, praying for a way out. The wall had to end. I knew that I'd eventually reach the gates to the nunnery, and hoped that I'd find a way out there. Again, I heard a car driving somewhere, but couldn't determine the direction. The lane was so near, freedom so close. After walking for a good twenty minutes I sat down to rest again. Not only was I confused, but completely lost. Without the hosepipe, I couldn't even get back into the nunnery, let alone escape over the second wall. Fearful that I might be trapped between the two walls for days on end, I again plodded through the undergrowth.
"The gates," I murmured as the two walls closed in and joined like the bow of a boat. Looking up at the wrought iron gates towering high above the fusion of the walls, my heart sank. There was nothing I could do, no way out. Feeling thirsty in the heat of the day, I thought about the young man. He'd got into the grounds of the nunnery. But how the hell had he managed it? Climbing a tree, ripping my habit in the process, I peered over the outer wall. I could see the lane, and wondered whether I'd manage to flag a car down. Turning, I looked over the inner wall across the grounds to the building. The Mother Superior standing at the foot of the steps outside the main entrance, I hurriedly descended the tree.
She'd be looking for me, I was sure as I headed away from the gates and made my way through the trees. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do. Trapped between the walls with no escape, I wondered whether the Mother would have guessed where I was and sent the monk to look for me. The last thing I wanted was to come face to face with the evil man. There again, I couldn't stay trapped forever.
Walking for about half an hour, further than I'd been before, I finally came across a ladder resting against the inner wall. "So that's how he got in," I smiled, trying to move the ladder. Looking up, I could see that it was chained to the wall. There was no way I could take it across to the outer wall. My mind in turmoil, I climbed to the top and looked across the grounds at the rear of the nunnery. Despondency setting in, I sighed. I'd have to go back, I knew. Thirsty and hungry, I decided to return to the nunnery and plan my escape properly. Clambering over the barbed wire, ripping my habit again, I jumped to the ground. Resting by a clump of bushes, I wondered how the young man had managed to scale the outer wall. He probably had another ladder, but how did he scale the wall when leaving the grounds?
"Enjoy your little escapade?" the monk asked as he rounded the bushes and looked down at me.
"Escapade?" I frowned, determined to show strength. "I've been working in the garden and..."
"You've been over the wall."
"The wall? I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about. I've been working in the garden. I came here because I..."
"You'd better come with me," he said, an evil glint in his dark eyes.
"No, I think not," I returned. "You can go to hell."
"She still hasn't learned her lesson," the Mother said, joining the man. "Get her into the dungeon. We'll see how she likes the chair."
Yanking me to my feet, the man dragged me through the grounds to the building. Wondering what the woman had meant by the chair, I knew that I was in serious trouble this time. They must have seen me leaping down from the wall. I should have... on reflection, I should have planned my escape properly. Had I waited until dusk... even then I'd have been trapped between the walls. But at least I now knew that there were two walls. If nothing else, I'd learned something. The next time I attempted to escape, I'd take some food and drink, ensure that I could survive. The next time, I'd make it over the second wall.
Dragged through the chapel and down the stone steps, I was thrown to the dungeon floor by the monk. I gazed in horror at a wooden contraption in the centre of the room. With a high back and a padded headrest, it resembled an electric chair. There were leather straps, ropes, hinged sections... the chair should have been in a torture chamber, not a... this was a torture chamber. Tearing my habit from my trembling body as I squirmed on the filthy floor, the monk threw the garment aside and hauled me up by my hair. Forced to sit in the chair, I caught the Mother's gaze as she stood in the doorway. She was evil. There was no doubt about it. The monk running a leather strap around my waist, I again swore to have my revenge. They'd both pay dearly for all they'd forced me to endure.
Moving a lever, the back of the chair reclining until I was almost prostrate, the monk lay my legs on two narrow planks of wood protruding from beneath the seat. Tying my ankles to the ends of the planks, he chuckled as he moved my feet apart and then together again. The planks working like scissors, my legs could be opened or closed - the swollen lips of my vaginal crack either gaping or pressed together. Pulling my arms down by the sides of the chair, he cuffed my wrists to the metal frame. Completely defenceless, I watched him work another lever, my knees bending as the centres of the hinged planks rose.
He could place my naked body in virtually any position he wished. My vaginal entrance gaping, my knees pressing against my breasts, my thighs spread with my legs out straight... the evil man had uninhibited access to my sex holes. Moving behind the chair, he turned a handle, the padded rest beneath my head moving down until I was staring up side down at the Mother Superior. I wasn't uncomfortable as she walked around the chair to my feet, but extremely humiliated as my captors gazed at my blatantly exposed vaginal entrance. Feeling fingers toying between my fleshy sex lips as the evil pair mumbled something to each other, I tried to raise my head to see what they were doing.
"Shave her," the woman said, leaving the room.
"With pleasure," the monk chuckled, reaching to the ceiling and pulling two thin chains down. Securing the metal clips at the ends of the chains to my erect nipples, he turned a handle on the wall. "This is what I like," he laughed, the chains tightening, my brown milk teats painfully distending. "I just love teenage girls with very long nipples."
"Please, no," I whimpered, my areolae rising into taut cones of flesh.
"Do you know why she wants you shaved?" he asked, standing by my side. "I'll tell you why. You're to be used as an example. The novice nuns will be shown exactly what will happen to them if they dare to misbehave. One by one, they'll be brought down to the dungeon to look at you."
Lifting his habit, he stood behind my head with his heavy balls brushing my face. The shaft of his erect penis rising above my mouth, I knew that I was going to have to swallow his sperm. I began to wonder whether there'd ever be an end to the debauchery, but realized that it had barely started as he fully retracted his foreskin. My head almost upside down, he pressed the silky plum of his penis hard against my closed lips. I had to allow him access to my mouth, I knew as I parted my lips and licked the slit of his glans. His balls resting against my eyes, he pushed his knob into my wet mouth, breathing heavily in his illicit pleasure as he fully impaled me. My lips enveloping the root of his penis, his pubic curls tickling my chin, he withdrew his solid shaft and thrust into me again.
"You're a good mouth-fuck," he chuckled, pulling on the two chains hanging from the ceiling, my sore nipples painfully stretching. "When I've spunked down your throat, I have a little job for you," he said mysteriously. "It'll be our little secret. The Mother Superior knows nothing about my little money making venture, and that's that way I want it to stay."
I was sure I'd not be able to swallow properly with my head upside down. When his sperm came, I'd probably choke. But he'd done this to me when I'd been over the millstone, my head upside down, his sperm gushing into my mouth. As he increased his rhythm, his swollen glans repeatedly engulfed by my full lips and driving to the back of my throat, I prayed for him to come quickly. Wondering what the job was that he had for me, I coughed and spluttered as my mouth filled with his salty semen.
"Yes," he breathed, his sperm pumping into my mouth, running in rivers up my nose, over my cheeks and stinging my eyes. I could feel his male liquid matting my blonde hair as my mouth overflowed. I was nothing more than a piece of meat to be used and abused, to bring the evil man sexual pleasure. Had he no compassion? He probably thought no more of me than he did an animal. He was treating me worse than one would treat a dog. Perhaps that's how he saw me, as a dog.
"Go, I needed that," he murmured, his sperm-dripping glans leaving my mouth as he released the nipple clamps. Turning handles and moving levers, he adjusted the chair until I was sitting upright. My arms by the sides of the chair, my knees bent with my feet just clear of the floor, he wheeled the chair through the door. I couldn't wipe away the sperm running down my cheeks, dripping from my chin and splattering the naked mounds of my breasts. My eyes stinging, I again wondered what the job was that he had for me. Something evil, crude, I was sure.
Pushing me into another room at the far end of the corridor, he positioned the chair against the wall with my legs pushed into a low alcove. I couldn't work out what the idea was as I sat with my sperm-dripping face only two inches from the wood-panelled wall. He was unable to get to my pussy or my bottom, and I began to wonder whether this was a form of solitary confinement.
"Right," he said, moving about behind me. "We're just in time." Sliding a panel back, he moved my head forward, my face fitting into an oval hole in the wooden wall. I was looking into what appeared to be a confession box, my face about two feet above the floor. As he fixed a strap behind my head, my face pressed into the oval hole, I realized that I couldn't move. I heard him leave the room and close the door. A heavy bolt sliding across, only silence filling my ears, I knew that I was alone in the room.
After about ten minutes, the heavy velvet curtain on the far side of the confession box moved aside. A young man entered the box and drew the curtain across, my face level with his knees as he stood before me. I soon discovered what the idea was as he knelt down and unzipped his trousers. His solid penis hovering before my wide eyes, he fully retracted his foreskin and pressed his purple glans hard against my pursed lips. Again I had no choice; I knew as I parted my lips and allowed him to push his silky-smooth knob into my mouth. Choice had been taken from me, along with my anal virginity, my self-worth, my femininity...
"Use your tongue, you filthy whore-bitch," he hissed, withdrawing his penis until my full lips enveloped his swollen glans. Snaking my wet tongue over the silky-smooth surface of his huge organ, I pondered on the monk's words. He was obviously making money on the side. If the Mother Superior knew nothing about this, then I had something on him. Blackmail? No, I daren't risk it. Besides, I didn't plan to be around for much longer so it didn't matter what the monk got up to.
The man came quickly; his sperm gushing into my mouth, flooding down my chin as he rocked his hips and emptied his balls. How many more men were waiting to defile me? I wondered as I did my best to swallow the milky product of his orgasm. How much was the monk charging them to mouth-fuck me? I was an unpaid prostitute, an unwilling whore. Once I was free, I'd tell the police about the nunnery, the evil monk and the so-called Mother Superior. My mouth brimming with sperm, I wondered how such things could happen in a nunnery in the middle of a beautiful English county. A far a few hundred yards away, a village down the lane... all were oblivious to the debauchery concealed within the bowels of the nunnery.
As the man slipped his spent penis out of my mouth and zipped his trousers, I licked my wet lips and watched him leave through the curtain. A face pushed through an oval hole in the wood panelling, a female mouth waiting to be fucked and spermed... never had I felt such degradation. An idea coming to mind, I decided not to make another escape attempt. I'd be better off hiding somewhere, get Elizabeth to bring me food and water. The Mother would assume that I'd escaped and panic. I'd leave my wimple at the foot of the wall; perhaps find a rope or another hosepipe to make them believe that I'd made it over.
Another man entering the confession box and kneeling before my face, I instinctively opened my mouth as he hauled his erect penis out of his trousers. I watched him rolling his foreskin back and forth over his purple plum, waiting for his to slip his penis into my mouth. Watching his glans appear and disappear as he masturbated, I wondered whether he intended to shoot his sperm over my face. I was naive as to the fantasies of men. I'd never seen a man masturbate before, let alone with his swollen glans only inches from my face.
His sperm came quickly, raining over my face, splattering my nose, my cheeks and mouth. I watched the white liquid leaving his slit in long thin strands, moving as in slow motion through the air and landing on my tongue. Why had I pushed my tongue out? I tasted salt as the mother-of-pearl liquid bathed my tongue, hung from my sperm-glossed lips and dropped to the floor. Finally pushing his orgasming glans deep into my mouth, he gasped as I sucked hard, swallowing the last of his sperm as he shuddered in his ecstasy. He withdrew too soon; before I'd sucked him dry, lapped up the spilled liquid running down his veined shaft.
What was I becoming? Was the taste of male orgasmic fluid waking sleeping desires within me? No, I wouldn't let it happen. I'd fight the unfamiliar craving. I didn't want men mouth-fucking me, sperming over my face, down my throat. It wasn't me. There was someone else inside my head, goading me, enticing me. Lucifer? Watching the white liquid dribbling from the man's slit as he squeezed the root of his organ and ran his hand along his shaft, I felt my womb contract. I missed Chris. Where was he? Who was he with? I should never have allowed my stepfather to split us up. I missed my mother. Trying to drag my thoughts away from the unknown man's penis, his sperm, I again pondered on hiding somewhere in the nunnery.
I could wreak havoc, cause trouble from my hiding place. Sneaking out at night I could trash the kitchens, wreck the garden, the greenhouse. I wasn't a vandal, I wasn't malicious by nature. But I was very angry. My teenage body had been my temple, shared only with one man in the name of love. Now, my temple had been unceremoniously pulled to the ground, desecrated, destroyed for ever, stripped bare. Watching the second man leaving the confession box, his sperm running down my flushed face, I again wondered whether there was a God. If there was, then He'd fucked me. I shouldn't have been thinking those terrible thoughts, but that was the way my mind was working. God had fucked my life, fucked my childhood, fucked my expectations... fucked my faith. My father gone when I was too young to understand, replaced by an evil man, a hypocrite who'd cast me into the clutches of the Mother Superior... she was the Devil incarnate. Where the hell was my God now?
I felt like I'd lost a child. A child I'd known from birth, nurtured, held close in the dark of the night, lulled to sleep, loved, cherished, treasured... the child had gone, for the time being. I used to dream of my father, his homecoming, his arms around me, his gushing love spilling over me. And now, in my teens, my stepfather had thrown me into the dungeon where the seed of strangers gushed and spilled over me. But the child was still there, living somewhere deep inside. One day, we'd be reunited. I'd be reunited with myself.
"Fuck," I breathed. The expletive had never left my mind and tumbled from my lips before. I'd never sworn, never been bad. Perhaps I should have been bad. Perhaps I should have fucked and sworn and stolen and smoked and got drunk and... but I couldn't have changed myself. I was me, for what I was worth. Worthless. Another man slipping through the heavy velvet curtain and kneeling before me, I felt like a goddess. Men came to me, came unto me, knelt before me. Men came in me.
"Suck it, baby," he murmured, his blue eyes staring down at me as he unzipped his jeans.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"You don't need to know my name," he grinned. "All you need to do is suck the spunk out of my knob."
"You live in the village, don't you?" I smiled.
"I might," he replied coldly.
"I'll find you," I hissed. "I'll seek you out. And destroy you."
"I've paid good money for this, so stop ranting and do it," he returned, pressing the globe of his purple knob hard against my sperm-wet lips.
I sucked him into my mouth, savouring the salty taste of his penis-plum, breathing in the scent of his pubic hairs as he let out a rush of breath. He was no better than the rest, no better no worse. Were all men evil? I wondered. Given the opportunity, would any man force his penis into a girl's mouth? Money had changed hands, and now sperm was to flow. I knew that he was from the village; I knew where to find him when the opportunity came for me to vent my anger on those who'd abused me. When the time came for revenge.
Wondering where the monk was as I suckled the man's knob, I made my plans. The nunnery was old, several hundred years old. There'd be places to hide, nooks and crannies, secret passages. Where did the Mother Superior sleep? I'd find her room, sneak up to her bedside in the dead of the night and... and what? As the young man pushed his knob further into my mouth, gasping his expletives as I sucked hard on his swollen plumb, I swore to kill him. Not murder him, but kill him with my mind. It was possible, I knew. The power of thought, the power of the mind. Voodoo? Maybe.
When I was young, my father used to take me to church. He wasn't a fanatically religious freak, unlike my stepfather. He was a good man, trying to do the right thing, the Christian thing. Sandwiched between my parents, I'd listened intently to the vicar. He'd talk about the dead, communicating with the dead. It was possible, he'd said so. But, allegedly, according to the gospel of someone or other, the practice was denounced by God. Thou shalt not... thou shalt not fucking what? Thou shalt not fucking do this. Thou shalt not fucking do that. Expletives were roaming my mind, stalking me like starving rats. Thou shalt not fucking swear. I felt like swearing, like getting pissed, smoking and fucking... fucking? I had to take a grip on myself, I knew as the young man mouth-fucked me. I couldn't let myself go, slip into depression, into the unknown depths of my subconscious. The child might have gone, but the dream still held me.
Sperm flooding my mouth, I once again swallowed the orgasmic gushing from a man's penis, taking the fruits of man's loins deep into the very core of my young body. With every knob thrust into my young body, with every seed planted within me, my thirst for revenge grew. As I swallowed the milky-white liquid, I thought of murder. A knife, lunged, twisted, gouging, blood spilling... but no. I was strong of mind. I didn't need to kill. I was positive, strong - unlike Juliet. Poor Juliet. Had she been fucked by the monk? She was too young, the mounds of her breasts barely developed, the lips of her vagina adorned with newly-grown pubic hair. Would she kill? She should never have been in a place such as the nunnery, she should never have... but she was there, suffering, enduring... suffer little children.
As the man shuddered his last wicked shudder and withdrew his spent knob from my mouth, I looked up at him, stared into the blue pools of his glazed eyes. I saw only satisfaction reflected there. No remorse, no regret, no compassion, no mercy... the day would soon come when he'd beg for compassion, for mercy, for the help of God. Zipping his jeans, he left the confession box, the box of sin, and pulled the curtain across behind him. He'd gone, come and gone, and I again wondered how many more men there were queuing to mouth-fuck me.
"OK," a voice from behind me murmured. The strap holding my head to the wall released, I moved back and turned my head. The monk was grinning, a triumphant grin, the grin of a man who'd made some money. As he released my naked body, freeing me from the chair of sin, I climbed to my feet and staggered on my crumpling legs. The taste of sperm lingered on my tongue, reminding me of the mouth-fucking. I hated myself for what I'd done. Opening the door, the monk ordered me to return to the dungeon and get my habit. He'd finished with me, used and abused me to earn his illicit earnings and was now tossing me aside like an unwanted rag doll. A broken toy, a discarded plaything.
For the first time since I'd arrived at the nunnery, I felt real anger. I'd controlled myself, my emotions, throughout the sexual abuse, the whipping, the stripping of my anal virginity, the mouth-fucking... but now? Now, I had no control over my actions. Noticing a bamboo cane standing in the corner of the room, I watched the monk turn his back and walk through the door. Grabbing the cane, I followed him into the corridor. Now was the time to attack, I knew, but... managing to take control, I placed the cane on the floor. Uncontrolled anger would be my demise.
"Dress and get out of here," he said, turning as I followed him into the dungeon.
"I thought you were going to shave me," I murmured. I didn't know why I'd said that.
"You want to be shaved?" he asked, his eyes wide.
"I used to shave regularly," I lied, wondering what I was trying to do.
"Really?" he grinned. "What else are you into?"
"I could show you a thing or two. But not here."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there are people around. The Mother Superior is always lurking. Do you live here, in the nunnery?"
"No, I don't. I suppose I could take you to... no, I'd better not."
"When you want some real sex, take me to your place," I grinned, donning my ripped habit.
"The Mother's away for a day or two soon. Maybe I'll... I'm not stupid, Mary. You're trying to get in with me, aren't you?"
"Not at all. I just thought that..."
"You're not here to think. You're here to be fucked. Now, get out of here."
As I left the dungeon and made my way up the stone steps, I wondered whether I could get in with the monk. If he took me to his house, which was probably in the village, I'd stand a good chance of escaping. Pondering on my idea of hiding, I left the chapel and looked up at the darkening sky. Dusk was falling; the time had come to make my plans, leave clues as to my supposed escape. I had to find a place to hide, see Elizabeth and arrange for her to bring me food and drink... although I was hungry, having only had breakfast, I was determined to put my plan into action. By the morning, the Mother Superior and the monk would believe that I'd made it over the wall.