Now that she had found her old friend Flora, Olivia was thrown into even worse confusion. She had run away from London hoping to start a new life, but all her plans had been thwarted. She did not want to stay in the convent, and she did not want to go crawling back to Rupert. Suddenly she felt more isolated and adrift than at any other time in her life. Perhaps fate had designed it that way. Perhaps she had always been destined to enter the convent of saint Dulcinea, and all her life had been but a preparation for that moment - the moment she was dreading.
'Come in,' she called absently in response to the knock at her door.
Flora entered and placed a bundle on the end of the cot, her face radiant. "Tis time,' she beamed, taking Olivia's hand and guiding her to her feet.
'Am I to be naked?'
Flora's smile widened. 'Of course not.' She indicated the bundle. 'See, I've brought your ceremonial robe.'
She unfolded the bundle and joyfully held up the contents. It was virginal white and virtually transparent, full-length and embroidered at the edges with symbols and codes which were meaningless to Olivia. She carefully lifted the diaphanous material and dropped it neatly over Olivia's head. It shimmered and nestled snugly over her statuesque contours. Flora then picked up a black cord from the bundle and wound it tightly around Olivia's waist before knotting it at the front. Then she kissed her friend lightly on both cheeks.
'Look at yourself in the mirror. See how wonderful you are.'
The robe was beautifully crafted out of silk, shining and clinging. Her breasts stood out clearly, revealing their firm outline and dark teats. When she moved the material clung like a sleek skin.
'Sit on the stool,' said Flora, moving behind the breathtaking vision. 'I must do your hair now'
'Where are the older nuns?' Olivia asked suddenly as she sat before the mirror. She could see Flora was taken aback by the unexpected question - she had touched a nerve.
Flora parted Olivia's hair in the middle and brushed until the tresses shone. 'Older nuns?' she replied at last, as though with little interest or understanding.
'Yes. Apart from the Abbess and the Mistress and Sister Lupa there doesn't seem to be a woman in here over thirty. Where are the older ones?'
Flora said nothing as she brushed all the more vigorously. 'Where do they go?' Olivia persisted, feeling uneasy at Flora's obvious reluctance to comment.
'You really do ask a lot of questions, my treasure.' She tied an embroidered band around Olivia's forehead, using the reflection to adjust it between eyebrows and fringe. Then she reached down and allowed herself the luxury of holding those glorious breasts for a few seconds, watching her own lucky hands in the mirror, before straightening the robe a fraction so that it opened to reveal the deep cleavage and swept out to the tips of Olivia's shoulders.
'Come - it is time to go.'
Flora led her charge through the dim and empty corridors of the convent to the chapel. Outside the great doors Olivia managed to stop her.
'Why won't you tell me about the older nuns?' she asked. 'There must be some here.'
'You will learn all there is to know in due course,' Flora told her firmly. 'In the meantime, hold your tongue and do exactly as you're told.'
She opened the chapel doors and pushed her dangerously inquisitive young friend inside.
At first Olivia couldn't see anything for the dense incense swirling in clouds from tripods positioned all around the walls. For the past two days after her strange encounter with Flora she had tried to imagine what sort of procedure the ceremony would take. She had imagined it to be like a normal church service; the nuns kneeling and chanting from their prayer books and the Abbess reading from one of the illustrated manuscripts. She had never, however, contemplated a scene like that which greeted her slowly adjusting eyes.
The macabre tableau was lit by torches which sent fantastic shadows dancing grotesquely over the frescos and revealed the white nakedness of the nuns, eyes blazing and bodies quivering with sexual tension. They stood in two lines leading to the altar, an avenue of taut buttocks and erect nipples bathed in sweat. At the end of the avenue, on the raised platform before the altar, stood the Abbess. She was dressed in a shimmering red gown that intimately hugged her curves. Olivia could just about see her through the swirling incense.
The Abbess reached out with both hands and beckoned her forward. She did not want to go. Her feet would not move. Flora gave a gentle prod in the small of her back, and she slowly and reluctantly walked along the writhing human corridor. The naked figures glowed and shimmied in the orange light. Their arms and fingers twisted and snatched, but none touched her.
At the foot of the altar she halted and hesitated, not really knowing what to do next. She was greatly relieved to find Flora still with her.
To Olivia's right, and previously unseen by her, stood the Mistress. She held a silk cushion upon which were balanced a short stout whip and a cane. The Abbess stared deeply into Olivia's wide eyes and nodded once. Immediately Sister Lupa appeared from an archway to Olivia's left, guiding Sister Alysoun to the altar rail. Sister Alysoun wore a blue silk robe that draped from her shoulders right down to the floor. She looked vacant, her eyes soulless. Olivia wanted to ask if she was all right, but knew better than to do such a thing.
Another barely noticeable nod from the Abbess and Sister Lupa, standing behind her charge, reached around and unbuttoned the neck of the blue gown. The frenzied chaos from the congregation suddenly ceased as she peeled it away and revealed Sister Alysoun in breathtaking nudity. A silence hung over the chapel for some moments, and then, as if upon a signal, the chaos resumed.
Olivia was utterly bewildered. She had assumed it was she who would be stripped. Why was Sister Alysoun involved? What on earth was going to happen next? Her attention was drawn back to the Abbess who was raising her arms towards the ceiling.
'Olivia Holland,' the Abbess announced in a clear, powerful voice. Again the congregation fell quiet and listened to their leader with absolute adoration. 'Since your arrival within our sacred walls you have been disobedient, disrespectful—'
'I have not,' protested Olivia.
'Silence!' stormed the Mistress at the outrageous outburst.
'Thank you, Mistress,' said the Abbess, and then started again with a clear look in her eyes that a second interruption would most certainly not be tolerated. 'Since your arrival within our sacred walls you have been disobedient, disrespectful, and generally problematic. Lastly, of course, you committed the greatest of sins by trying to leave us without permission.'
'I've been punished for that.'
'I won't tell you again!' hissed the Mistress.
'Yes, Olivia Holland, you have been punished for that,' continued the Abbess smoothly, 'but you have not been cleansed.'
Poor Olivia was dumbstruck. What on earth was occurring?
'You may speak now,' the Abbess prompted. 'Have you anything to say for yourself?'
Olivia had nothing to say. These women were going to do exactly as they wished with her, no matter what she said. She shook her head.
'Very well - we shall begin. Choose, Olivia Holland.'
'I'm sorry?'
'You must choose whether to use the whip or the cane.'
'What must I use them for?'
The Abbess looked with annoyance at the Mistress. 'Does the foolish girl mean to try my patience?'
The Mistress stepped forward and handed the cushion to Flora. 'I apologise for her misguided behaviour, Abbess. Allow me.' She turned to Olivia. 'Sister Alysoun has been found guilty of gross neglect, the consequence of which was your foolish and temporary absence from our order. To safeguard against further transgressions she must be punished. You will see to it. And once the punishment has been concluded you may consider yourself cleansed, and therefore pure.'
Olivia looked at the emotionless face of Sister Alysoun. 'This is unfair,' she uttered. 'Sister Alysoun has done nothing against me.'
'Nonsense,' said the Mistress. 'What about your torture in the punishment room?'
'But that has nothing to do with this.'
'Perhaps. But you should have thought of that before you selfishly ran off. You should have considered the ramifications of your actions upon those you left behind. It is the rule that when a Sister transgresses by attempting to leave without permission - and it doesn't happen often - those left behind and considered responsible through negligence shall pay.'
'Please... this is ridiculous...' This was emotional blackmail of the worst kind; that someone innocent should suffer because of her wrongdoing, and that she should have to select the mode of punishment and administer it herself.
'Sister Lupa,' said the Mistress. 'To the altar rail please.'
The herbalist guided the passive Sister Alysoun down to kneel on a waiting footstool. She pushed her shoulders forward until her flat stomach rested over the rail and her bottom was lifted high.
'Abbess,' whispered a humble Olivia, 'I would rather take the punishment myself. This is not fair.'
'Perhaps not,' said the Abbess without compassion, 'but you will learn your lesson well. Now, please commence without further delay.'
Olivia eyed the ominous looking implements lying on the cushion, and decided the cane looked the lesser of two undoubted evils. She held it gingerly in her fingers. It quivered as she approached the rail. She bent and whispering to Sister Alysoun, 'I'm sorry. I would give anything not to do this.'
Sister Alysoun said nothing. She just stared at the floor.
'Twelve strokes,' commanded the Abbess.
Olivia looked at the bare buttocks waiting for the first strike. They were neat and pale and vulnerable.
The congregation waited in silence...
A muffled grunt betrayed the scorching pain felt from the first blow. Olivia's stomach churned at the sight of the reddening welt delivered from her own hand. It ran from cheek to cheek. Only where it crossed the narrow cleft was the flesh unmarked.
'Again,' demanded the Mistress.
Olivia hated the bespectacled woman with an intensity never before felt. She swept the cane into Sister Alysoun again. But it wasn't the Sister she was thrashing; it was the Mistress. Her victim rocked forward on the rail under the heavy assault. The next blow was for the Abbess. Olivia was swept along within an all-consuming fury. All she could see was the poor bottom and the cane. All she could feel was hatred for the Abbess and the Mistress. Flora too; she was no longer Olivia's friend. She had lured her to this place.
'Enough!' announced the Abbess.
Olivia struck again. Through a red haze she could see nothing but Flora's damned face.
'Enough, I said!'
Olivia's arm swept down again, but was snatched by the Mistress and halted before it could inflict yet more damage. The cane dropped from her limp fingers and clattered to the stone floor. Sister Alysoun sobbed quietly over the rail.
'Take a good look, Olivia Holland,' ordered the Abbess. 'See what misery you have inflicted on your fellow.'
'Not I,' she protested. 'You ordered this cruelty.'
'And so I shall again if you continue to flout the rules of this convent.' She ran her fingers back through her shock of long auburn hair. Her breasts lifted enticingly and Olivia saw the erect nipples send shimmering darts through the red silk. The diaphanous material moulded itself to her elegant hips and clung to her shapely thighs and calves. She was intentionally preening herself before Olivia, and Olivia couldn't deny she was an incredibly sensuous woman. 'This part of the ceremony is over,' she announced dramatically 'You are cleansed of your past transgressions, Olivia Holland.'
From somewhere rose the steady low beat of a drum. A flute joined it, its haunting tune drifting through the swirling gloom. The heady incense wafting from the tripods reduced the naked congregation to a wraithlike mass of gyrating and embracing limbs.
The Abbess stepped down to Olivia and took her hand. Now a different atmosphere prevailed. 'Sister Lupa will prepare you,' she breathed, and kissed Olivia delicately on the lips.
Sister Lupa put her arms around Olivia's shoulders and steered her to an alcove behind the altar. She opened a waiting glass jar containing a sweetly perfumed ointment. 'An oil made from bergamot and lavender,' she informed without being asked. 'To make you feel at ease... and receptive.'
'Receptive?' Olivia asked cautiously, watching the herbalist coat her fingers with a little of the ointment.
'Don't worry,' she whispered comfortingly. 'Just relax and abandon yourself to the coming pleasures. You are a very lucky girl.' She touched her lubricated fingertips gently to the base of Olivia's throat, and allowed them to glide down into her cleavage. The aroma was reassuring as the warm ointment was rubbed into her flesh. The fingertips swept outwards in slowly increasing circles until they slipped beneath the white silk and coated Olivia's already erect nipples. She shuddered and moaned softly. The excitement sparked deep in the pit of her stomach.
'Lucky?' her voice could barely be heard.
'Hush...' Sister Lupa coaxed gently. 'Don't talk any more...'
Olivia tried to resist the wonderful sensations permeating her breasts and nipples. Her heart beat steadily faster, a persistent throbbing that reverberated through her chest. Gradually the sounds from the chapel evaporated. Olivia's head span. Her attention was glued to Sister Lupa and her wonderful fingers. 'Kiss me...' she couldn't prevent herself from sobbing. 'Please, kiss my nipples...'
The herbalist needed no second invitation. Without hesitation she lowered her head and pressed her lips over the white silk where each delicious bud strained from within. She urged Olivia back against the alcove wall, peeled aside the material and drew an exposed and swollen nipple into her mouth. She flicked her tongue over the tip and nibbled it between her pearly teeth. Olivia inhaled deeply, and her breasts swelled against Sister Lupa's hot face.
'Ooh...' she moaned, and cupped the back of the herbalist's head to pull her closer and to force yet more of her aching breast into the tantalising mouth. Her back and bottom squirmed against the cold wall. 'Oh... what are you doing to me?'
By way of an answer Sister Lupa merely cupped and lifted both breasts and sucked on the unattended nipple. The air was heavy with sexual expectation.
'That wicked potion...' complained Olivia, without conviction.
Sister Lupa reached blindly, found the jar, and coated her fingers again. Unseen fumblings, and Olivia felt the silk whispering up her legs. The industrious mouth and tongue never left her nipples. She held her breath. The excitement threatened to burst forth from her chest. Her feet shuffled a little further apart. When the material was gathered around her waist the slick fingers and palm roamed over her thighs and belly. They slipped around and into the valley between her trembling buttocks. A finger pressed and teased over her private entrance, and then returned to coat her wet labia with the wonderful ointment.
'I shall come...' Olivia sighed. 'If you keep doing such lovely things to me I shall come.' Her head lolled to one side and through glazed and hooded eyes she saw in the chapel a writhing carpet of nuns making love to each other. 'What's happening to me?' she pleaded. 'I need you to make love to me, Sister Lupa. And I need you to make me come.'
As though from the depths of a dream Olivia saw the chapel doors opening through the haze. A recumbent figure was brought in on a sledge to the accompaniment of manic adoration from the congregation.
'The moment has arrived.' Sister Lupa kissed her. 'You are well prepared.' Olivia was enflamed. Her brain pounded to the mayhem all around as the herbalist left the dress in its state of disarray and led her back out and stood with her beside the Abbess.
It took a large group of nuns to lift the marble figure from the sledge and up onto the altar. Olivia gazed upon it with a comfortable sense of serenity. It was obscene - yet beautiful. From its groin there reared a large and lifelike phallus. Her legs quaked and her belly knotted at the promise of it. Its stomach was flat, and where there should have been a broad and masculine chest there rose a pair of beautiful breasts tipped with erect nipples. Olivia wasn't at all shocked; the figure possessed a magical sexual magnetism. The peaceful face was of a woman, wondrously carved with long flowing hair. Olivia knew it was an image of the Abbess who had saved the order from extinction all those centuries ago.
'Sister Lupa,' said the Abbess, 'if you would be so kind.'
Sister Lupa stepped forward with the same glass jar and coated the phallus generously with the sweet ointment. Olivia could hear the slick sound of the herbalist's fingers working up and down the inanimate length and over the flawless helmet. When the herbalist stepped away the phallus glistened proudly.
'Olivia Holland...' announced the Abbess over the noise of the throng. 'Step forward, Olivia Holland...'
The Mistress took Olivia's arm and guided her unsteadily to the prostrate idol. Greased hands and arms snaked around and mauled her legs and breasts and face and hair. She swooned and shuddered as the hands lifted her. She protested not as they carried and positioned her above the vertical and waiting phallus. Her legs were eased open. Disembodied fingers pinched and prodded and poked. She stared down with wide eyes and hot pink cheeks. Her hair, glossed with ointment and perspiration, stuck to her forehead, throat and shoulders. Her breasts and thighs glistened. 'Please...' she looked at the Abbess and whimpered, but even Olivia didn't know whether it was a plea for mercy or a request to be lowered and filled.
The Abbess stared deeply with amber eyes, searching Olivia's very soul, and then nodded. Hands on her shoulders bore gently down. The tip of the unmoving phallus nudged Olivia's labia.
'Ahhh... it's too big!' she breathed.
'Wine,' ordered the Abbess. 'Give her some wine.'
Sister Lupa instantly fetched a jug and raised the lip for Olivia to drink. She swallowed greedily and the rich red liquid spilled out over her chest. It trickled down between her breasts, over her ribs and stomach, and around her tummy-button to her pubes. The warm liquid relaxed her further. Hands forced her further down the slippery column.
'I can't do it,' she wailed, more out of frustrated disappointment than trepidation.
'You can,' urged the Abbess
Olivia caught her breath and froze. The downward pressure increased. She relaxed as much as possible, and then to her immense relief and delight her buttocks settled down on the cold thighs. Olivia swayed dreamily with the marble penis buried deep inside her wonderfully stretched vagina. 'I'm finished,' she sobbed. Reaching forward blindly she clutched the rising breasts to steady herself. The nipples prodded into her palms. She remained thus for several uninterrupted minutes, gasping and groaning.
Olivia opened her eyes and through salty tears saw the Abbess sitting on the face of the idol. Her red dress was also tied up around her waist and off her shoulders to reveal her delicious breasts. She seductively ground her hips and writhed on the marble features whilst staring at Olivia the whole time. Her erect nipples pointed invitingly at Olivia, and she longed to feel them in her mouth.
The Abbess leaned forward and embraced her tightly. Their greased breasts swayed and caressed together. Unseen by Olivia the Mistress gathered the whip and awaited the signal. She was caught off guard. The thongs cut across her buttocks. Her shriek of shock and pain was smothered by the long kiss from the Abbess.
'Do not fight it, Olivia Holland,' she panted and held the impaled girl tighter. 'Concentrate on the energy inside you. The whip is only to enhance the pleasure. Watch me.' The whip lashed into her own bottom. The soft flesh lifted slightly off the enigmatic face. Her expression clearly reflected the undiluted ecstasy coursing through her body. The amber eyes flashed from both pain and pleasure.
At that moment Olivia knew beyond doubt. She was here. The exquisite vision that had floated down from the heavens of the infirmary ceiling to make beautiful love to her was here now - holding her.
The whip fell again, but Olivia no longer felt the scorching pain. She gazed through a cloud of pleasure at the mass of nuns. They danced and gyrated. Wine was flowing and the flute and drum were increasing in tempo. Whips slashed and buttocks quivered. Some of the nuns now wore large penises strapped around their hips. They were making love like men. Olivia spied Flora, who was plunging just such a penis into poor Sister Alysoun. The girl was on her back and Flora bucked and stabbed between her legs, but despite her recent punishment Sister Alysoun clutched feverishly at her lover's buttocks and urged her to greater efforts. She whispered encouragement and winced with obvious delight as Flora set up a frantic pace.
Warm lips fastened onto Olivia's nipples and brought her back to the Abbess. She ran her fingers through the lustrous auburn hair and held the Abbess close to her breast. Fingers searched between her thighs and found her clitoris. Olivia's passions overwhelmed her. The whip fell again and again. Olivia rose to meet it. The column stretched her and the fingers strummed her erect bud. She could resist no longer. With a loud whimper she buried her face in the sweet-smelling hair and erupted into orgasm. Her whole body shuddered, and then she fell limp, breathing deeply.
The Abbess kissed her affectionately. 'Stay as you are for a while, Sister Olivia. Allow the pleasures to sooth your mind and body.'
'Sister Olivia?' she sighed. 'Is it all over?'
'Almost. You have done well. I always knew you were special, Olivia.'
'Was it necessary to have me flogged?'
'Pain before pleasure,' the Abbess reminded her.
'Spiritus Licentia Copulatum,' Olivia murmured dreamily. She looked around at the tableau of satiated bodies. The air was thick with sweat and heady feminine odour. Incense still drifted from the tripods.
As Flora and Sister Lupa helped the Abbess down from the altar the congregation slowly stirred and drifted into a fairly loose line. One by one they approached the rail, knelt and drank from a chalice held by the Mistress. Flora and Sister Lupa returned and lifted Olivia from the column of marble. Her limbs ached and she flinched as her stiff legs straightened and gingerly took the weight. Once the last nun had taken a sip from the chalice and returned down the aisle Olivia was helped forward. She knelt and drank. The refreshing liquid tasted faintly of mint and poppy seed. It cleared her head well.
Olivia stood. Rather appropriately the white gown loosened around her hips and rustled down to cover her legs once again. Flora lifted it back into place on her shoulders and hid her breasts. She then led her to the alcove where Sister Lupa had taken her during the ceremony.
As Olivia watched a nun entered through the chapel doors. She was fully clothed in a habit, and with head bowed made her way directly up the aisle to the Mistress. She knelt, and as she looked up and raised her hands for the chalice Olivia realised she had never previously noticed her around the convent. She also noticed she was a little older than her sisters; still extremely attractive, but perhaps in her early thirties.
'Who is she?' Olivia asked of Flora, but before the reply came the truth struck her like a thunderbolt. Her earlier questions were just about to be answered. This nun was indeed older than the others, and Olivia had the distinct impression she was preparing to leave the order.
'Where did she come from?' she asked. 'I don't recognise her.'
'You won't,' whispered Flora. 'She's been kept in solitary confinement since your arrival here.'
'But why? What's she done wrong?'
'She's done nothing wrong.'
'So what will happen to her?'
Flora smiled. 'You are her replacement, Olivia. It is her time to retire from the order.'
'Retire?'
'She must go now and help provide earnings for the convent.'
'And how will she do that?'
Flora smiled again. 'You have much to learn Olivia. You are so naive.'
Suddenly the truth dawned. 'You mean... she's going to sell her body?'
'Yes, I do mean that.'
Olivia couldn't believe what she was hearing. She watched the nun rise and the Mistress kiss both her cheeks as the meaning of Flora's words sank in. 'But - but I haven't seen any men visiting the convent,' she stammered.
Flora chuckled. 'Of course you haven't. The entrance to that part of the building is not through the gate, but through an outer door which is always locked.'
So that was it! Once each nun was considered too old for the order they were despatched to an internal brothel to help finance the upkeep of the convent, thereby making room for the next young innocent to stumble into the web and take her place.
There were a hundred questions rattling around in Olivia's head, but as she opened her mouth to utter the first of them the Abbess looked at Flora and then turned to leave the chapel. 'Go to her quarters, Olivia,' said Flora. 'Tonight you belong to the Abbess. Be sure to please her well.'