 |
|||
|
|
The Institute of Advanced Sexuality - Chapter 12
" My confessor, that is what I was to call him from then on, gestured that I should remove my cloak. I did not feel at all comfortable about exposing my body to both him and the young man. This was odd since being nude among those who came to visit Madame and her husband did not give me the same feeling. Madame had taken great pains to make sure that I would do exactly what the priest requested of me. There was no way to avoid pain and suffering by resisting, and yet there probably would be an equal amount of pain and suffering distributed by the priest before I left his presence. I took a deep breath and opened the clasp on my cloak to reveal my naked body. The priest's eyes appeared to glow at the sight of what I had revealed. However it was the reaction of the young man that frightened me even more. He took a step towards me and then almost as if an invisible hand had reached out, stopped abruptly in his tracks. The old priest made that rumbling sound that passed for laughter and I could see the color rise in the young man's face. I knew that trouble with him was inevitable, and steeled myself for it. "
"The priest made me turn around very slowly so that they could get a good look at my bare body and the marks from yesterday's confession. My confessor was pleasantly surprised that most of the marks were in the process of disappearing even after only a day. Looking up at his assistant, who is what I presumed he was, the priest directed him to begin the process of fixing my body to the ornate fixture. I knew it was futile to resist, so I made no movements to hinder him in fulfilling his task. He treated me as if I was an inanimate object, which was totally unexpected. Soon I found myself in a kneeling position, my lower legs strapped tightly against the smooth, polished wood that gleamed in the candle light from the fixture that stood nearby. My breasts rested on a wooden plank while my arms were pulled to the sides and fastened to the fixture with more straps. I gasped and strained against my bonds when the assistant pinched my bottom to check my restraints. They both laughed at my reaction to his test. He nodded to the priest and my confession began. "
" He had the chair moved so he faced me, his face now loomed up before me and I could smell his breath. I couldn't help noticing that his eyes strayed to my breasts as he spoke about my sins and the demon that lived within me. There was nothing I could say in response to his words. This did not sit well with him and he nodded to his assistant who had taken up a position behind me. The first blow was unexpected. It split my bottom at the center running from one side to the other. Unlike the strap wielded by my confessor previously, this was a much different sensation and had a much more powerful force behind it. I blinked at the tears that sprang from the corners of my eyes, and then a second blow followed, only an inch or so higher than the first. The pain was intense and I struggled to free myself from the straps that held me fast to the wooden fixture. The priest leaned even closer to me and I felt as if his tongue could lick away the tears that were running down my cheeks. Still another stoke was dealt to me by the young man, and this time I screamed from the pain. I could feel the blisters forming across my bottom from these three terrible lashes. Now the verbal probing began and it was a lengthy and most painful process. "
" I was made to confess to various sexual transgressions as the priest described them. His assistant helped the process along by applying stroke after stroke to my blistered rump, making sure that the tip of whatever he was using now and then invaded the crevice between my plump cheeks that soon felt as if they were on fire. It seemed as if the older my confessed sex partner, the more intense was the beating my bare body underwent. By now the young man was whipping the backs of my legs and on one particular occasion he managed to stripe the soles of my feet with one quick stroke that brought a harsh shriek from my hoarse throat. Finally the priest called a halt to the proceedings so he could investigate whether the demon still remained hidden inside my body. His fingers intruded into my private places and came away dry as dust, much to my relief. That did not sit well with my confessor who was certain that the demon had merely moved to another secret place where it would wait out the storm. Things became even more stressing once the priest admitted that the usual places were empty of the demon's spore. "
" He and his assistant discussed what to do to me next as if I were merely a piece of furniture, rather than a person. However they soon were whispering back and forth and laughing like conspirators. I had no idea what they were planning to do to me next, but it was quick in coming. Without warning the young man came into view and I finally saw what he had been using, a cane. I'd seen what this implement could do to a woman's flesh, but until now I had avoided it. He brought this terrible weapon down in an arc that ended with it flattening my bare breasts just above the pink nipples. I lost control of my bladder, which angered him, and so my poor breasts received a series of cruel strokes that left them covered with lines of blistered flesh. The last blow felt as if the cane had torn the nipples from their moorings. The pain was so intense that I brought up my breakfast that infuriated them both. The priest made a call to someone in the mansion, and soon one of the kitchen workers arrived with a bucket and cleaned up my mess to the satisfaction of my tormentors. During the entire time she never looked at me, acting as if I wasn't even in the room despite the fact that she had to touch my person on occasion to rid it of some of the vomit that congealed on my skin. I was strangely relieved when she finally left the room. "
" I immediately regretted my impatience over her leaving. My confessor was still quite angry at my behavior and decided to have me further punished by his assistant. I was horrified to realize that my welted bosom was to be the target once more. He took his time and made sure I did not escape this torture by fainting. The priest informed me that I was to receive ten of the best on my tits for my impertinent attitude toward the holy sacrament of confession. I had very little idea of what he was saying, but each vicious blow embedded his words into my brain. The young man seemed to be enjoying his task, even teasing me by feigning a stroke, only to stop its flight only inches from my badly bruised and quite swollen breasts. I was on the verge of passing out when the priest stopped him from doing further damage to my poor budding breasts. "
" There remained still more and it was quick in coming. I felt the young man's hands on my hips, holding them steady. I wanted to not believe what he planned, but he proved my instincts to be correct. The sound of a zipper opening was too familiar for me to avoid readying myself for an intrusion that would involve more than just a few fingers. His hands gripped my hips once more and this time I felt his cock attempting to open my rear entrance. My mind was whirling with questions. What was I to do? Should I merely accept my fate and hope it passed quickly and without any pain? Should I resist, and by that action convince the priest to call a halt to what this young man had planned for me? Before I could come to any conclusion, he solved my questioning by thrusting himself through my weakened defenses and into one of my private places. There was not too much pain, just enough to let me know that I was resisting to a degree and paying a price for my efforts. What happened next was not new to me and so it is not worth describing in any detail. "
" Afterward I offered no resistance when the straps were loosed and I was made to bend backwards so that the front portion of my bare body was now available for punishment. I started crying when the young man pushed the tip of his cane into my secret place and kept increasing the pressure to force it further and further into my birth canal. I began pleading that if he continued; I would not be able to bear children in the future. That brought loud laughter from the pair. The tip of the cane was removed and the straps retightened to hold my bare body in this new position, one that made many of my most vulnerable parts easily accessible for the cane or any other whipping implement they chose. "
" This fixture was an amazing piece of wood, able to bend my body into the type of position that the old priest wanted. I was now arched with my legs parted sufficiently so that the insides of my thighs as well as my puss could be whipped with that cruel cane. I was to discover to my dismay that the young one would revisit my welted, bleeding breasts and turn them into twin pulsating lumps of raw meat that would immobilize me for the better part of a week. However even that would not protect me from further brutality from this team of fiends. By the time I was ready to leave the mansion and emigrate to the northern wilderness, almost every part of my body had been whipped to a frothy mass of throbbing flesh. I recall taking fifty of the best over a period of some hours while friends of Madame and her husband drifted in and out of the area in which my naked body was being brutalized. What stands out the most from that particular event was that the Madame herself came and watched dispassionately as the last five strokes were delivered to my bleeding bottom that was so swollen that the skin burst in spots. "
" I was unconscious by the time the priest decreed that further efforts to drive out the demon from my bleeding body had to be put aside until I was well enough to continue making my confession. I remained bed ridden for three days before Madame decided I was strong enough to resume confessing my sins to the old priest and his assistant, who turned out to be a priest as well. During this period of calm there was opportunity to develop a litany of sins to confess to my two tormentors. They seemed to enjoy hearing me agree that I was possessed by a demon who lived deep in my puss, but who could migrate from one place to another in my body depending upon what was being done to find it. The young priest, his name was Damon, used the cane and other implements to drive the demon from one spot to another. The old priest now played an active role in the struggle by inserting his entire hand into my puss and moving it the length of my birth canal to make certain that the beast was not hiding somewhere in that tight tube of flesh and sinfulness. "
" They gave me no rest. When I wasn't being whipped, Damon was using my entryways fore and aft. For a young priest, he had a good knowledge of my secret spots and used every one to his advantage, but the demon always seemed to be one step ahead of him. An old woman made an appearance at least twice during one of my confessions to make sure that the demon was unable to impregnate me. The foul mixture she used caused me more pain than all but one or two ferocious beatings I took from the young priest. I quickly learned that as long as he was whipping my bottom or thighs to tatters, I was safe from his stiff prick. As soon as the cane started whistling through the air on its way to my swollen, sore puss, I steeled myself for another type of beating, one that left my insides feeling as or more sore than the opening to my secret place. Worse still was his discovery of just how sensitive my underarms were. It took him some time before he learned to make me scream to the heavens and implore his god as well as any others I could name to save me from this agony. Once my last secret was brought to light, I belonged to them and would do anything to avoid the pain they could create within me. It was this final defeat that allowed them to negotiate with Madame and her husband for my eternal services as they so described my servitude. This done I joined them in traveling by ship to the strange land across the ocean that I had never seen. "
(To be continued - jethro jodhpur)
|
|
|