It was in early spring that the Holy Inquisition was despatched to the convent of Saint Dulcinea. More than forty men-at-arms toiled up the steep track that led to the convent walls. Only with great difficulty could the waggon follow at their rear. As they drew nearer a strange sound came from the waggon to the windows above; a sound not unlike the clattering of cutlery or the rattling of chains.
'What do they want with us?' asked a pretty nun of not more than twenty summers. She stood beside the Abbess, a woman ten or fifteen years her senior. Both watched the men below preparing to batter down the great oak door.
'They have come to punish us,' the Abbess replied grimly. 'And to turn us out of our convent.
The throat of the young nun contracted with fear. 'But why would they punish us? And why—?'
'Because we are Dulcinites. Because we believe in and worship the pleasures of the flesh.'
Both women were naked, and had just risen from the bed they had been sharing. The crumpled and damp sheets bore witness to a session of relentless and passionate lovemaking.
And so it was throughout the convent; nuns rising from shared beds and listening in wonderment and trepidation to the hollow, mournful booming of the battering ram, which soon climaxed with a sharp cracking of splintering wood.
The men-at-arms streamed through the shattered door and into the quadrangle. Behind them followed the waggon. The Abbess knew what it contained.
Some of the convent's plate and coin had been deliberately left for the Inquisition. But the greater part, along with the sacred books, had been hidden in a cart and covered with the carcass of a rotting sheep. The stench would keep the men-at-arms away - the Abbess hoped.
Are those the instruments of our punishment?' the young nun asked.
The Abbess nodded gravely as the waggon was unloaded and the instruments carried down the steps that led to the crypt. She looked down upon the nuns who were assembling timidly in the quadrangle. Many had not even the time to dress properly and stood shivering in their shifts. Those foolish enough to take refuge in their cells were quickly discovered and dragged screaming to join their companions.
The Abbess turned the young nun towards her and they kissed tenderly. Outside in the corridor the vile curses and heavy tramp of booted feet drew nearer. The fingers of the Abbess dug deep into the firmly clenched buttocks of her lover. 'They are coming for us,' she whispered, and then pulled away.
The young nun snatched up her habit and threw it over her head. The Abbess covered herself with a blanket and together they made their way to the quadrangle. Already the nuns were filing down the steps of the crypt.
Robert of Gaunt, the Inquisitor, ordered the nuns to gather at the far end of the room where they could watch the instruments of punishment being assembled. He had chosen wisely, for the crypt was devoid of any windows and lighted with nothing more luminous than a few guttering candles. In the half-light and eerie silence, broken only by hammering and nailing, the construction of the instruments took shape. Filled with curious horror the nuns clutched each other as a huge wooden frame was erected. It was a giant 'T', standing about eight feet tall. The crossbar, fitted with chains and rings at each end, was not fixed rigidly to the top of the vertical, but was able to rotate a full turn.
When the hammering and nailing had ceased the Inquisitor approached the Abbess. Without speaking he gripped the blanket and ripped it from her shoulders. She was tall for a woman, taller than the Inquisitor, even in bare feet. The hair at her fork glistened with a velvet sheen, a perfect triangle that followed the crease of her thighs and settled under the pit of her stomach in a gorgeous concave.
'I have no desire to harm you,' he said, standing so close her nipples almost touched his armoured chest. 'Indeed, you can put an end to these torments before they even begin. Open your heart and tell me the whereabouts of your plate, and I will consider this trial over. Then you can all go your way in peace.'
'I shall not tell you.'
A step nearer and her nipples stiffened against his cold armour. Then in a loud voice that brooked no argument he commanded the nuns to strip naked. Gasps of horror escaped their lips. It was unheard of that a nun should strip in front of a man - let alone men. They tugged their habits tighter about them. Those who had not the time to put on their habits and were clothed only in their under-garments hid themselves further into the gloom.
'Is it necessary that my Sisters take off their clothes?' asked the Abbess firmly.
'Very necessary,' he assured her. 'Do you think I intend to flog them through all that cloth? A woman is much better served for a whip on her bare hinds.'
The nuns looked at him beseechingly, but he was adamant. Any argument was futile.
Slowly and with trembling fingers they began to disrobe. Mindful that the greedy eyes of the soldiers were watching their every move, they first removed their head-dresses and then, more reluctantly, the cumbersome habits. Stripped down to their shifts they made one last appeal for clemency. But none came. It was all part of the procedure that those facing interrogation should be naked, for in that state they would feel utterly vulnerable and defenceless; less likely to resist and more likely to cooperate. They raised their shifts an inch at a time, gathering them in folds at the knees. Shapely white legs gradually revealed themselves, and then bellies and breasts, until each and every girl stood as required.
For some considerable time the men-at-arms marvelled at the nuns' youth and beauty. Some were tall and long legged. Others were shorter but no less shapely. Some were pert breasted, others much more full. It was not surprising that under the lustful glare of the men they each hung their heads in shame.
Not so the Abbess, who stood with her head held high. Resigned to her fate she remained perfectly composed. The Inquisitor again asked the whereabouts of the plate. Again she refused.
'Very well. You leave me little choice but to make use of the instruments.'
'I am not frightened of that,' she replied bravely.
A wolfish grin spread across his lean face. 'You may not be frightened, but your Sisters are. See how they huddle together like sheep.'
There was no denying that. At the mere mention of the contraptions the nuns had closed together, more fearful of impending punishment than their own nakedness. Many had broken into a cold sweat which trickled in rivulets between their breasts and over their bellies and into the fringes of their pubic hair. The youngest, the lover of the Abbess, had wet herself, and stood paralysed in the puddle forming at her feet.
'You will select two of your Sisters as an example to the rest, and also as proof of my sincerity and your disobedience. Now choose.'
A terrible wailing and sobbing arose. The Abbess remained silent.
'If you do not make your choice immediately I shall have them all whipped,' he added flatly.
It was not an easy choice for the Abbess to make, for none of the Sisters knew where the plate and coin were hidden. She had to decide whether seeing her Sisters cruelly flogged was worth her silence. The small amount set by would remain hidden until she judged the punishment severe enough to loosen her tongue. If she surrendered too readily it would arouse the Inquisitor's suspicions. There was no alternative but to subject her Sisters to the whip. 'Sister Ruth and Sister Catherine.'
The chosen nuns stepped timidly from the darkened huddle and into the candlelight. They were amongst the tallest of the assembly, of equal height, build and weight. The Abbess had chosen them because their voluptuous bodies could withstand the severest of beatings.
'Before they are whipped I am required by law to carry out an inspection. A mere formality, but one with which I must comply.'
So saying, the Inquisitor stepped forward. The envy on the faces of his men could not be disguised as he closed his hand around the breasts of the dark-haired girl. He squeezed gently at first, as he might with a lover or nervous virgin, thumbing her nipples and gently increasing the pressure. Then, much to the horror of all and sundry he bent his head to the cupped breast and bit the aroused nipple. Catherine grit her teeth, but refused to cry out.
'You have been trained well,' he complimented. He lightly patted her bare bottom, the strength increasing until hard slaps reverberated around the dingy cellar. She visibly winced, but remained silent. 'A pair of firm buttocks,' he observed. 'I wonder if your legs are as well constructed.'
He slapped her flanks and hams, progressing steadily down her thighs and paying great attention to the insides where experience had taught him women were at their most sensitive. He was not disappointed, for the gritted teeth parted and she uttered a low moan. The moan became a harsh grunt as his hand strayed to her pudenda, the fingers slipping deftly inside her parted slit.
'As I thought,' he announced coldly. 'The girl is wet.'
The nuns watched with abject terror as he fingered her, worming his hand deep into her groin, his wrist blatantly twisting back and forth. When his hand was withdrawn, soaked with her juice, he used it to slap the backs of her knees and calves, returning to her hips, belly, and lastly her breasts. He struck left and right, making the orbs swing and dance and all the while arousing her nipples to greater erection.
'The sargeant may have the honour of inspecting the other,' he said, indicating Ruth.
She was not of such strong mettle as her companion, and when the sargeant came forward her hands flew to cover the join of her thighs, as well they might. He advanced upon her with three long strides. The lust in his eyes alone made her tremble.
'Take your hands away from there,' he rasped, and before the poor girl could comply he slapped her forearms. 'Put your hands on your head - and keep them there!'
He was built like an ox, and beneath the stubble on his chin ran a deep, livid scar; a knife wound. The eyes were grey and cruel. He grabbed her breasts with both hands and squeezed until tears flowed down her cheeks. The nipples he pinched and twisted, his teeth crushed the teats amid sobs of pain. Neither were his slaps gentle. The flat of his hands hit over her ribcage and hips. Her bottom blazed red, as did the tops of her thighs. She was crying and shaking her head, but he was relentless. He slapped her bottom with the full strength of his hand, making her jolt forward in agony. As a finale he attempted to repeat the actions of his master by inserting a finger inside her, but to his chagrin was ordered away.
'The girl has been satisfactorily examined,' said the Inquisitor in a rare fit of leniency. 'Now take them both to the frame.'
The two chosen nuns were positioned beneath and at either end of the crossbar. They stood to attention as instructed, with their arms by their sides and legs firmly together. Beautiful in their symmetry, they watched breathlessly as the men-at-arms took up the candelabrum and brought them close, illuminating their naked bodies.
Catherine was ordered to place her hands in front of her while a pair of shackles was fetched. These were fitted around her wrists, and when the attending soldier was satisfied that they were tightly secured and there was no possibility of her hands sliding free, he fastened a length of chain to them. He then reached up and passed the chain through the ring at the end of the crossbar, and left the loose end to dangle down to her waist.
When satisfied, he moved to Ruth, who dutifully placed her hands at her front. Her nipples, breasts and bottom were still smarting from the bites and slaps of the sargeant, and in the candlelight took on a reddish golden hue.
'Lie on the floor,' the Inquisitor instructed. 'On your back with your knees drawn to your chest.'
Although obviously baffled, she obeyed, lying directly beneath the end of the crossbar, her knees drawn up and resting on her breasts. Another man-at-arms knelt at her bottom, and with the same precision as his comrade he produced a pair of iron shackles and locked them tightly around her ankles. A similar length of chain was fastened to them, and passed up and through the ring at the opposite end of the wooden span. This was then left dangling like the first.
Leaving the nuns for a moment, the Inquisitor ordered the sargeant to bring forward the modes of punishment. He took one of them and listened with a triumphant sneer to the gasps of horror coming from the naked assembly who were now herded closer to the frame. The whip was not a single length of leather, but half a dozen strips knotted in their middle and at their ends. Carefully, almost lovingly, he passed the knotted ends over the belly of the nun prostrated on the flagstones. The same light touch was applied to her standing companion, the knotted ends draped over her shoulders so that they touched upon her nipples.
'This is for you,' the Inquisitor whispered, loud enough for all to hear.
While Catherine stood open-mouthed in terror, he displayed the other mode of punishment; a rod, which he flicked over the nipples of the prostrated Ruth. The rod was in fact a plaited leather cord, but so thick it took on the appearance of a cane or stout stick. At its end it tapered to a strand no thicker than the little finger of a child.
'And now we are ready to begin,' he announced.
A man-at-arms stepped from the shadows and took hold of the chain that hung behind Catherine. It rattled through the ring in the crossbar, and her arms slowly lifted until they stretched as if she were reaching for the ceiling. She squealed when, with a sudden tug, she was up on tiptoe. Another rattle of the links lifted her toes just clear of the floor. While she hung there - every muscle in her legs, torso and arms straining from the weight - the chain was fastened around the crossbar.
'Now the other,' ordered the Inquisitor.
The same procedure was followed, except that Ruth was hauled up by her ankles until her head hovered an inch or so over the flags. Her arms flopped down onto the floor, but were quickly gathered, pinioned behind her back, and fastened at the wrist with iron cuffs. A perfect balance had been achieved at either end of the crossbar; a pair of scales equally weighted.
The Inquisitor turned to face the Abbess. With the rod he struck her flanks. It was not a severe blow, but hard enough to leave a mark and make her cry out.
'I shall give you one last chance to reveal the whereabouts of your gold. You will answer directly, and if it is brought before me without delay not a single blow shall be struck. I promise you of that. Now speak!'
The Abbess stared past him at the frame. The naked bodies of her Sisters glowed in the candlelight. Their flesh glistened with sweat. Their faces were masks of anguish. For a moment it seemed as if she would break, but with dogged determination she shook her head and turned away.
The Inquisitor sighed. 'As you wish, Reverend Mother.' He handed the whip to the sargeant and tossed the rod to the nearest man-at-arms. The nuns hanging from the frame would now be flogged, and in so doing the true purpose of the frame would at last be revealed.
The sargeant, being superior in rank to the soldier, was the first to strike. He stood behind Catherine and a little to the left. He did not hit her at once but hesitated, getting the measure of the heavy whip; its length and weight; where he intended to strike first; which part of her body would cause her the greatest suffering.
The Abbess stared at the Inquisitor with glazed hatred. At a barely perceptible nod of his menacing head the whip whistled through the heavy air.
The crack of leather on flesh was like a bolt of lightning. The thongs spread upon impact, catching Catherine square across her buttocks, covering every inch of the cheeks. Gritting her teeth, she steeled herself against the searing pain, determined to resist. Her body tensed, the muscles turned to iron, and when the next blow fell viciously across her back she screamed and jolted forwards. The multitudinous shock of the thongs sent her legs flaying. Propelled by her writhing weight the crossbar started to move, and as it did so the rod fell on the buttocks of Ruth with the same force as the whip that had landed on Catherine.
If Catherine had screamed, Ruth howled like one demented; a high-pitched howl which pierced the ears of the watching nuns. So frantic were her attempts to avoid the next blow she twisted and turned by the ankles.
'Her thighs, strike her thighs!'
The soldier obeyed his commander, as at the same time the whip fell on the backs of Catherine's knees. Both women broke into a desperate writhing, far greater than before. Their thrashing legs and hips sent the crossbar furiously squeaking around, and when it halted it was to position Ruth for the whip and Catherine for the rod. Thus they would both feel the wrath of each tormenting weapon.
Catherine was brave and proud; but her resistance was short-lived. The heavy plaited leather landed with a smack across her full breasts, the aim delivered so perfectly that each nipple was crushed under its stinging weight. She held her breath until the next blow cut into her stretched belly. The air rushed from her lungs and she too span on her chain.
The whip caught Ruth on her buttocks, and with such violence she almost bent double. Her back arched, lifting her head away from the floor. Her body was sent swinging crazily through the air, and the crossbar repeated its terrible journey. It creaked to a stop and both women were now back where they had started.
The flogging stopped for a moment while the Inquisitor offered the Abbess another chance to put an end to their sufferings. She refused, judging he would be suspicious of such a hasty capitulation.
It mattered not to the Inquisitor. Time was on his side. If necessary he would have the women flogged raw.
'Lay on the lashes slowly,' he said to the soldiers. 'If the Abbess is so sure that her Sisters can take it I want them to feel every lash. Whip the bitches senseless.'
The soldiers shrugged as if to say it was all the same to them. From that moment on each blow was carefully aimed to inflict the maximum of pain. They took their time, prolonging the punishment. They paused for rest and refreshed themselves from flagons of wine, while the poor nuns were left hanging by their chains.
As the punishment continued those men who remained idle sidled up to the gathered nuns and steered them to the darkest corners of the crypt. The outnumbered nuns had little choice but to comply; the sight of their whipped sisters made them fearful to resist.
Despite instinctive pleas for mercy, they were taken in a variety of positions, the favourite and the one which offered the easiest of access to their groins was to bend them over the wine barrels.
Neither did the men spare mouths or bottom-holes. Now that all control was lost it seemed anything was fair game.
The Abbess, powerless to prevent what was in effect the wholesale violation of her convent, sat on a step with her head in her hands. She was unaware of the men behind her. A hand lighted on each shoulder, and she looked up into the face of the Inquisitor. There was no anger in his countenance, just an expression of tired impatience. Behind him hung the exhausted Catherine and Ruth.
'They took their punishment well,' he conceded. 'I wonder if the rest of your Sisters will display as much courage.'
The Abbess stared up into his heartless eyes. 'You mean to flog the remainder of my Sisters?'
'I shall have the whole convent flogged unless you tell me what I want to know.'
She looked down at the dusty flagstones. 'The plate is in the well.'
'You see. You could tell me after all. What a pity you did not do so earlier. It would have saved you so much anguish, not to mention the sufferings of your Sisters.' He waved a hand and a soldier immediately disappeared to find the well and the hidden treasure.
Catherine and Ruth were taken down from the cruel apparatus. They had fainted and lay supine on the flagstones, their breasts heaving as if in heavy slumber. The Abbess would have gone to them, but the men whose hands still rested on her shoulders forbade her to move.
When the soldier returned with the plate the Inquisitor seemed satisfied.
'Will you let us be now?' asked the Abbess.
'But of course after you have fulfilled your duty.'
'My duty? Have I not given you what you wanted? And have my Sisters not suffered in the process?'
'Indeed. Now it is only you who remains to be punished.'
'Me? Why me?'
'Because you have been disobedient, and because you have put me to a great deal of unnecessary trouble.'
The Abbess looked at the frame. 'You're going to whip me.'
'Not necessarily. It all depends on how cooperative you are.'
'But, I have given you everything.'
The Inquisitor chuckled. 'Not quite.'
A look of terrible realisation crept across her face. 'Surely, you don't mean...'
He was already unbuckling his breeches. The armour would be too much trouble to take off, and besides, he wanted to be back in the town before nightfall. 'Kindly bend over that barrel,' he said.
She looked to the barrel he indicated. The two soldiers guided her to it. A long sigh escaped her lips and slowly, without any emotion, she lowered herself over the wood as though about to be beheaded. Someone grabbed her ankles and pulled them over the flags, not stopping until her legs were stretched fully open.
The Inquisitor, with his perverse sense of humour and love of irony, ordered two of the nuns to come forward. 'You may have the honour of holding your Reverend Mother still while I give her what she should have had in the first place,' he remarked dryly.
The barrel was perfect for the taking of a woman. Its natural shape enabled it to rock steadily back and forth while he penetrated her, the nuns holding her shoulders would prevent her from rolling too far over its curve.
While he amused himself at her rear the final insult was delivered. In pure horror the nuns gathering around to witness the soiling of their Abbess watched as the sergeant aimed his organ into her open mouth.
Sometime later, after the convent had been looted and the cruel instruments dismantled and loaded back aboard the waggon, the Abbess and her nuns were told to leave, taking only what they could carry. The Inquisitor did not object when the Abbess requested the cart and the rotting sheep carcass to sustain them on their journey.
In single file they set off across the plain, heading for the distant hills. The two whipped nuns rode in the cart, the carcass having been jettisoned as soon as the Inquisition was well out of sight. The rest of the nuns traipsed dejectedly behind.
'Where shall we go?' It was the young lover of the Abbess who ventured to break the depressed silence after some hours of travelling.
The Abbess shielded her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. She could make out a castle on the horizon, a ruin, long abandoned in the plague and where few ventured. 'That shall be our new home.'
The young nun followed her gaze. 'Will we be safe there?'
'We shall be safe and free to continue our order. And as we grow old fresh nuns will take our place, gathered from those unwary enough to stray into our path. We shall not pass away, but will practice our pleasures of the flesh, each generation to the next, getting stronger as the years unfold.'