Chapter 3

Selma's phone call had been simple and explicit. Monique was to meet her at the crossroads near 'The Djinns' just after sunset. She also instructed her what to wear, and told her nothing else. It was all very mysterious and exciting to the girl as she kept the appointment and was picked up by Selma's limousine. The windows were tinted so that she was unable to see inside. Then the car door had opened almost of its own accord. When Monique bent down and peered within, Selma's unsmiling face emerged from the shadows.

"Get in, quickly," she ordered. "We're going to the convent of St. Germaine nearby."

Now Monique, wrapped in a black cape, her head covered with a little velvet hat from which a black veil hung, silently stared at the moonlit landscape rushing by the windows. Selma was at the wheel. She steered the hurtling automobile expertly through a labyrinth of thick pines. They rushed into a dark corridor between the trees and finally came to a halt in front of the imposing hulk of the monastery.

Monique looked around in nervous anticipation as she exited the car. The solemn silence of the place, sometimes pierced by the harsh cry of a nocturnal bird, was oppressive. She followed Selma to an ornately carven door. Her sponsor knocked four times, and shortly thereafter it swung open. A nun swathed entirely in black-Monique couldn't see her face or even determine the shapeliness of her form under the cumbersome robes-led them down a long stone corridor to a room that looked like a chapel. They crossed to the other side wordlessly and descended a flight of stairs to a small vaulted chamber. Selma freed herself from her cape and finally turned, smiling grimly, to Monique. "Remember what I promised, my dear. Things you have never seen before."

Monique nodded, too startled to do more than cast admiring glances at her companion. Selma wore a small ebony skirt, impeccably pleated, that clung to her voluptuous curves. A black cotton blouse seemed molded to her thrusting breasts, accentuating the peaks of her erect nipples. Silk stockings covered her long muscular legs. Her feet were sheathed in supple leather pumps.

Monique suddenly noticed that the nun had disappeared as Selma helped her to remove her cape.

The woman checked her attire and nodded approvingly. Except for the transparent black veil, Monique was naked beneath the cloak. Her breasts proudly jutted out, huge globes capped with dark cones. Her belly was a pale crescent in the dim light, the fleece on her mount a golden shadow that left the slit beneath in tempting darkness. A pair of black stockings ended at mid-thigh and accentuated the delights lying just above and between. Her feet were enclosed in bright, high-heeled shoes.

The door reopened and the nun reappeared, beckoning them to yet another corridor that ended at a massive door. She opened it with some effort, refusing assistance from the two women, and led them into a moderate-sized crypt. The monotonous drone of a psalm filled the air. At the other end of the room oil burned in little red glasses, casting a mystical light on a huge wooden cross rising from the stone floor. Leather bands hung from the arms of the cross.

Little by little, as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Monique could see wooden stalls on each side of the crypt. They were occupied by dark silhouettes; the only reflection came from shaven heads. Monks! A shiver of fear ran through Monique's body and she hesitated to go any further. Sensing this, Selma took her hand and murmured: "Don't be afraid, darling. You are going to know the greatest joys of love.. .real love.. .the love we adore."

Monique could now see piled on the ground near the cross rods and whips of all kinds. She began to pull against Selma, but already one of the monks was coming in her direction. He bent in front of her, blatantly scrutinizing her breasts and pussy, while Monique reddened with shame.

Then he took her by the hand. Selma went to sit in one of the stalls and became nothing but another shadow in that room full of shadows. Monique could feel the eyes of the shaven heads upon her, lustfully appraising her beauty, admiring her heaving tits and quivering buttocks. Excitement began to temper her fear, and she accentuated her undulations, moving her hips provocatively. The monk led her to a little red pillow on the ground in front of the cross. She was made to kneel upon it, facing the wooden frame.

"Pray now, my child," whispered the monk who had been her guide, bending her head with his hand.

She hid her face in her folded arms, but couldn't keep her outthrust rear from revealing, between her closed thighs, the slightly parted lips of her cunt and the red-gold reflections of the muted lights on her downy growth. From the pillow a strange intoxicating perfume rose. She could hear the monks singing their psalms, but suddenly the sound seemed to be emanating from the bottom of a deep well though the singers were near to her. Monique lifted her head at the sound of sandals stopping in front of her.

"Get up!" a deep voice ordered.

Slightly intoxicated by the fumes, Monique rose unsteadily to her feet. Before her stood a monk, tall and strong, looking at her strangely. His lips were full and sensuous, but his eyes were cold and cruel. Monique guessed him to be about forty years old. His robe was cinched tight by a rope at the waist. He led her to the other side of the room, to a sort of confession booth. It was a wooden panel of about four feet in height and the same in width. In its center was a window with a little gate.

The panel was separated from the wall by a space of about five feet, and held upright by rafters. On each side of the partition, leather bracelets were visible. The monk seized Monique, bent her forward, and tied her wrists, arms upright, to the leather manacles. She grabbed the sides of the panel for support, her legs tight together.

Another monk brought a flickering oil lamp and placed it right behind Monique's feet. Its unreal, eerie glow lit her ivory rump and cast her undulant shadow on the wall.

Then all the monks rose and drew close, arms crossed, arraying themselves behind her. Their eyes, riveted to the twin rotundities of her ass, shone with naked lust. Selma stood with them, also impregnated by the strange atmosphere of the place, and seemed both anxious and excited as the drama unfolded.

The monk who had been Monique's guide since her arrival in the room placed himself on the other side of the panel to which she was lashed. He was the superior of the convent. Then he began, in a low voice, to confess Monique. He asked a series of questions, each more audacious than the last, that demanded she reveal her entire history of sexual experience from puberty to the present time. She progressively had to admit all the audacities, all the outrages, and all the pleasures that her body had known. If she revealed when she had first taken a man's cock in her mouth, she was grilled until she admitted to doing it again and again with increasing pleasure. If she whispered that she had allowed the gardener at school to fuck her, the relentless interrogation continued until she told the extent of the violation and spoke of how many more times she'd allowed similar sport. She answered in a low voice, excited by her remembrances, tightening her legs together with each admission as if she were trying to tame the insatiable desires that rose unbidden inside her. Her discomfiture as she spoke often caused her to shift her weight from one leg to the other, thereby twisting her rump and setting her delicious buttocks to quivering. This caused a visible stir among the onlookers.

Finally the confessor emerged from behind the panel. He stood by Monique and spoke to the audience in a solemn voice: "Brothers, this penitent soul, offering herself in all her splendid nudity, has confessed all of her sins. Alas, her body has known more than love; it has known also those forbidden joys for which she must pay. Between her closed thighs and on the other side are apertures that have lost their purity and dispensed earthly pleasures. In your name I have decided to apply to that impious flesh the chastisement of our community. Brother Laurent and Brother Sebastian will assist me in that painful necessity. Now, my daughter," he intoned, turning to Monique, "show to this assembly the ignominious mouths..."

Monique felt her shame rush to her face. Shivering, she contracted her thighs and remained motionless. In the heavy silence of the room she heard one of the monks walk to the pile of pain-giving implements that lay near the cross. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that he returned with a thin and supple rod. He handed it to the superior. He flicked it through the air; it made a hissing whistle as it descended. She gritted her teeth, fear becoming immense, but recognized the thrill of anticipation and pleasure that mixed with it. A hushed sigh, and the rod kissed the supple curves of her ass. Monique jumped with surprise. The blow had barely touched her flesh and sent a tingle through her.

Already another stroke landed on her sensitive skin, stamping it with the pink imprint of its passage. This one was more painful as it crossed the cleft between her buttocks. It stung terribly and brought tears to Monique's eyes. She clenched her buttocks together, but didn't cry out. Then, quickly, four times, the whip lashed at her flesh. Now Monique moaned and sagged against the cross as the welts rose in scarlet profusion.

"Open yourself to us," the superior demanded. "Show us the fruit of your sin.

"No...no more..." Monique cried, "...I can't take anymore..."

Again the rod whistled, violently crushing the already swollen and throbbing flesh. The next stroke curled from underneath and found the sensitive outer fringes of her pussy despite her efforts to keep her legs closed.

"Spread!" the monk repeated in a voice like stone.

She hesitated just long enough for the superior to take her inaction as a sign of resistance. The whip crashed again and again up and down against her buttocks. She immediately parted her legs a bit and let the others see a hint of the taut pink lips under the golden hair.

With the top of the rod the monk brushed along her thighs and indicated with a tap that her legs must be spread more vigorously. But it took two more brutal blows to her ass cheeks, bringing a thin trickle of blood to the surface, to convince her to offer her most intimate parts to the unobstructed view of the staring multitude. She could feel their eyes on her flesh----on her pink jutting lips that were now damp and pearly-sheened from both perspiration and her inner juices; on her puckered asshole, whose numerous rapes and violations were easily imagined by the excited monks. Through the haze of fading pain Monique found in that exhibition a strong and savage sensuality that set her heart pounding.

A long moment went by like that, then Brother Laurent took the oil lamp and placed it behind the wooden panel. The light in the chamber was immediately dimmed, though not so much that anything remained unseen. Monique's white flesh seemed to glow in the near-darkness.

"Brothers," said the superior, "before we further chastise the flesh, give her the kiss of love, just as you see me do it now."

He knelt behind Monique, who felt his hot breath on her buttocks; then his lips contacted the delicate space between her cheeks. She could feel him against the inside curve of her ass, and the hard poke of his nose pressed against her. His hands were holding the front of her thighs and were pressing them passionately. Suddenly his tongue abandoned the sides of her crack and darted in the puckered and narrow mouth. She shuddered as he licked around her anus, while his roving fingers sought the moist haven of her slit from the front. For a moment she thought he was going to penetrate her cunt with those digits, but just as quickly he rose, caressing her pendulous tits and the erect nipples as he did so.

Then in turn, Brother Laurent knelt behind her and ministered to her as the superior had done, burying his mouth in her ass and letting his fingers wander in her velvety crotch. But unlike the one who had gone before, he rammed his fingers into her pussy before rising, letting them be coated with her fragrant musk.

In turn, twelve monks kissed her secret starfish-shaped mouth, and four of them allowed their tongue to slide further below and tease her dripping pussy. They also shamelessly squeezed her voluminous boobs, pinching her nipples until they jutted painfully from the unending attention.

Then it was Selma's turn. Not content to simply kneel and kiss the rearward portions that had been flagellated, she squatted beneath and between Monique's legs and raised her tongue to the girl's cunt. After what her ass had endured, Monique was almost glad to feel the whispery softness laying her starved love tunnel. Selma drilled there for awhile, licking first along the outer folds adorned with golden moss, then driving up into the slit itself and scouring the pink membranes that ached for equal treatment from the cock of a man.

One by one the monks had returned to their stalls. Monique could see their hands moving in the darkness, caressing the stiff shafts that throbbed beneath their robes. Brother Laurent retrieved the oil lamp and used it to light the way for the superior. He had released Monique and now led her to the cross that rose in the center of the room. She was placed with her back against the central column, her wrists linked together in the leather bracelets above her head. The veil was pulled from her and she now stood totally naked before them, her breasts heaving, the spun gold on her mount glinting in the dull light. Her ankles were spread and secured to other bracelets at the foot of the cross.

A new psalm resounded in the crypt. The lamp was placed at the proper distance to highlight Monique's every delectable proportion. Brother Sebastian placed himself on one side of the cross, and Brother Laurent took up position on the other. The superior sat between them in front of Monique, near the lamp. His gaze crawled over every inch of her, studying her long, smooth legs, the fleece between them, her flat belly, the swaying breasts, the erect nipples. Then the chant ceased and he rose.

"Now, my daughter, you will receive on your bosom the punishment that will erase from them the remembrance of the unholy contacts. You will try to show, under the kiss of the lash, the same submission that you have shown under our loving caresses. Brothers...

He sat down again as Brother Sebastian took up a little cat-o'-nine-tails made of strips of blue silk, each of them terminating in a tiny knot. All the lashes were knotted together at one end, forming a short handle.

Monique shuddered as the strips brushed the tips of her breasts. Already the silk was clinging to the ivory globes, molding itself to the luscious curves and caressing them in ways that were quite pleasurable. Her skin tingled as Brother Sebastian tickled her with the supple lashes, and gradually her tits became suffused with a strange warmth that radiated outward and enveloped her entire bosom. Her nipples strained to erect even more fully and were dark peaks in the middle of her paler aureoles.

Sometimes the lashes simply flicked across her nipplebuds, provoking in her breast and loins the most breathtaking sensations. But then the repetition of the gentle fustigation began to create a growing ache that soon blossomed into genuine pain. Monique started to moan, and by contractions of her torso, tried to avoid the shock of the silk strips on her boobs. For the monks it was a wonderful sight to see that voluptuous body twisting and writhing as if caught up in the throes of some pagan dance.

Monique expelled a sigh of relief when Brother Sebastian gave the cat-o'-nine-tails to Brother Laurent. But then her tormentor took up another whip, this one made of thin leather lashes. Immediately he resumed his treatment of her sore and swollen breasts with the harder whip, while Brother Sebastian alternated strokes with him with the silken strips.

A coarse cry escaped Monique's lips as the leather thongs bit her tender flesh. Again she tried to free herself, but tied as she was on the cross, she could only produce some side movements that were more provocative than protective. Another series of strokes across her nipples, and the gentler tickling between the twin mounds, tore louder cries from her throat. As the whipping continued, Monique's tits continued to redden and swell until she felt sure they-and her head-must burst from the incessant pressure. The fast pace created in her the impression of a continuous laceration, and her screams continued to match each brutal stroke.

When Brother Laurent laid down his silk tickler and took up another leather whip, Monique felt sure she was going to die under the atrocious flagellation that commenced. One of the monks was hitting her breasts from top to bottom, while the other worked from the opposite direction. It seemed to Monique, when she was fully conscious, that her breasts had been thrust between two huge leather presses. Any sensation of pleasure she might have experienced lasted for only moments. Brother Laurent stopped the flagellation, but Brother Sebastian kept flailing away at her boobs. If anything he was striking her even harder than before. The lashes were cruelly biting the tender, and yet hardened flesh of the turgid nipples, deepening them to a darker scarlet than the surrounding maltreated skin.

The superior replaced Brother Sebastian for a while, and landed a series of hard blows to Monique's flesh that made her whimper and writhe, much to the continued pleasure of the audience. They delighted in her agonies; their hands were in constant motion beneath their robes, flagellating themselves as Monique was punished. Then, suddenly, the whipping stopped, and the whistling sound of the descending rod was replaced with the panting of the girl and of the monks.

Again the superior came face to face with Monique, lifting her chin with his hand. He examined her tear-stained eyes and cheeks and smiled. Then he lifted his arm and, with all his strength, brought the lash crashing down on the nipple of her right breast. She was still hollering from the pain of that unexpected attack when the whip cracked across the other nipple. The blood rushed to the erect peak, making it even more delicate and painful.

By alternating his whipping of the nipples, the superior was able to extend the duration of the torture. To strike them simultaneously might have been too much for the weakened girl to bear. It was as if the nipples were pinched and pulled. Monique tried again and again to avoid, or at least lessen the shock, but always in vain. Her back came in contact with the wood of the cross, and at the same time the whip grabbed her tits. She cried, she screamed, she protested the painful caress, but the pitiless superior kept hitting her until he felt she on the verge of collapse. He stroked them twice more for good measure with all his force, then listened to Monique as she strove to recover her breath.

Then he lowered his head to the exposed and tortured globes. He kissed each one, remaining particularly on the hot, throbbing nipples. His tongue circled the darkened flesh, licking, caressing with velvety softness, even seeking the underside of her pendulous mounds. Already the two brothers who had been her chief tormentors were untying her ankles and turning her face against the cross. Her behind was thus offered to the eyes of the assemblage once again, a pale flower on two stems sheathed in black silk.

The superior was seated again. At his signal, Brother Sebastian took the silk whip again and quickly began to fustigate the delectable rump. Immediately the blood rose to just beneath the skin, eliciting in Monique the same feeling she'd experienced when they'd first whipped her breasts. Monique loved the voluptuous sensation, but already-as he had done before - the monk changed the silk whip for the leather one. At the first crack of the lashes on her ass, Monique pushed her belly against the wood of the cross.

But that didn't help her and the supple hide surrounded her buttocks in a stinging caress. The whip began to draw a mosaic of pink streaks, following closely the intimate contours of her rump and seeking the tantalizing gold-fringed lips that peeked occasionally from between her clenched thighs. The pain was extreme, and Monique squirmed and turned as much as she could to escape it, her tits flopping, her ass twisting.

The monks, their hands on the erect dicks beneath their frocks, stood admiring her with mouths agape. She was a beautiful doll of tortured ivory flesh whose contortions were the most pleasurable stimulant they could ever have imagined. Clearly piety was being forgotten. Selma did her utmost to contribute to the atmosphere of depravity in the crypt by sliding her hand under the robe of the monk seated next to her and taking hold of his massive tool. She began to pump the palpitating gland. When he tried to reciprocate and caress her naked thighs, she removed his hand impatiently. So he simply sat back and let her masturbate him slowly. She clenched his shaft tightly, enclosing it with her fist, and jerked the flesh up and down. Occasionally she let her hand slip down to the base of the pole and fondle the soft sac and its precious twin contents, then drew her fingers upward again to the velvety helmet, squeezing, pinching. The monk, meanwhile, was in ecstasy at this treatment, writhing and raising his hips to meet the strokes of the purposeful woman.

"You're going to come for me, aren't you?" she whispered huskily to him.

The monk nodded frantically, almost out of his head with the pleasurable sensations coursing through his cock. It stiffened more under her ministrations and swelled until the head was straining in her fist. Then the shaft began to jerk in her fist and gouts of thick, white cream spurted from the tip against the inside of the robe. Selma continued until she'd wrung every last drop of sperm from him, then she pumped him still more until he begged her to stop. Unheeding, she kept his cock in a death grip that wouldn't permit it to resume its normally flaccid state and jerked it until the monk nearly passed out. Finally, she released the shaft and, shrugging, she returned to observing the spectacle in front of her.

Monique continued to moan as Brother Laurent replaced Brother Sebastian at the cross. For a long while he continued the lashing of her tortured bottomcheeks. Sometimes he hit from the bottom up so that the strokes crashed at the joint of her crotch, opening her thighs under the surprise of pain. When that happened the lashes would insidiously penetrate the delicate grotto of her sex.

Gradually, when Monique felt she couldn't tolerate the pain any longer, a warmth began to grow in her ass, rising through her abdomen to her breast and face. Her desire to escape became inexplicably transfused with impetuous desire, an uncontrollable lust.

The superior then selected another whip with thinner lashes, and also hitting downwards, repeated this outrage at the joint of Monique's thighs. She turned her head and, seeing the look in his eyes, knew immediately what was expected of her. Hopelessly she tightened her thighs together; only when the whip had just streaked across her flesh would she relax her muscles.

The monk watched her efforts with a smile; he was an expert, and he knew that she would open her thighs when he wished it. For the present he was finding delectable the torture he administered at the base of her ass. The outcome was never in doubt. When the lashing began to be more violent, more intense - when he crisscrossed her buttocks with scarlet welts and undercut her in the cleft of her cheeks - Monique spread her thighs completely. The superior, who was awaiting exactly that, from then on began to hit her pussy one time out of every two strokes. The tips of the whip flicked along the folds of her cunt and reached the slit itself, intensifying her pain to an intolerable degree. Her muffled moans were now changed into a perpetual gargle as she was unable to escape the terrible treatment. The monk drew closer as he administered a particularly vicious cut to her pussy. Unheard by the others he whispered to her: "When I am finished whipping you, I am going to fuck you as you have never been fucked before. My cock will be buried to the hilt in your luscious pussy, while someone else's is rammed to the balls in your mouth." The semi-conscious girl was almost unaware of what he said, so great was the pain that he had inflicted.

As this took place Selma was burning with desire to, in turn, take up the whip and flagellate her young friend. She smiled as she thought that Monique, tonight, was paying to the monks the pleasure that she herself would take from Monique the next day. A sadistic joy filled her at the sound of the crack of the whip. The monk next to her tried again to slip his sweaty hand between her thighs. For a moment she contracted them, then she finally allowed him to caress her belly and the thatch of hair between her legs.

Monique, out of her mind, was hollering. The two assistants now were hitting her reddened buttocks without paying the least attention to her screams and supplications. The superior was also laying into her, systematically licking her cunt with violent downsweeps of the thin rod. Another more pitiful cry was the mark of the success of the fustigation. Finally she passed out.

When she came to her senses moments later, she was untied and her face was in contact with the drug-laced pillow. Its perfume - probably a base of opium and marijuana - soon calmed her pain and rendered her almost insensitive, while at the same time stimulating her desires.

With a couple of blows from the lashes the superior positioned her kneeling leaning forward, her knees far apart, again exhibiting her most intimate parts to the delight of the crowd. A new psalm was chanted as Monique's intoxication was deepened by the perfumes rising from the doped pillow.

Brother Laurent approached with a tray on which lay nozzles of different sizes, all with different diameters and all terminated by ivory rings. The superior chose one, dipped it in a container of vaseline on the tray, and held it up for all to see. It was about the size of a normally erect phallus, but the head was larger than a normal gland. The two monks helped Monique to place her arms above her head on a little bench in front of her; this helped to open her even more and reveal more of her upturned ass. The lamp was then placed between her feet behind her, putting in full light the contrast between the streaks that marked her buttocks and the furrow of her crack with its flower in the center.

The superior rose and stepped forward, then he kneeled in front of Monique's proferred ass. He kissed the buttocks and her cunt from underneath and placed the tip of the nozzle he held on the lips of her asshole. He pushed. Monique began to moan softly as the muscled flesh opened little by little under the steady pressure. The superior exerted more force and the length of the greased pole began to disappear in her distended cavity. Monique, shivering with pain and joy, relaxed in total acceptance of the penetration.

A deep sensuality took hold of her as the cool object was rammed up to the ivory ring into her burning insides.

The superior had a surprised smile on his face, amazed at the fact that the narrow sheath was accepting the huge nozzle so easily. He imagined the number of penetrations Monique's ass must have accepted before and excitedly imagined how his cock would feel once he lodged it in the depths of the girl's taut pussy. Stimulated now, he shuttled the nozzle three times in her asshole and then slowly removed it. Monique was left disappointed and lustful. But the cessation of activity was merely temporary. The superior turned to his flock:

"Brothers, now in turn, you must bow in front of this thing of pleasure and penetrate it three times with the emblem of purification."

As the others chanted their psalms, each monk came to kneel in front of Monique's rear end and kissed her buttocks and - many of them tried - her cunt, before fucking her with the dildo. Each of them had his own particular way to insert and move the object in her. Some were kind and allowed the pole to slide slowly through her distended flesh. Some others, more brutal, simply thrust the ivory rod into the narrow passage as hard as they could. But they all tried to reach under and find her cunt with their tongues, searching for the engorged clit and - those that found it - nibbling and sucking at it. Selma, like all the others, waited her turn to pay tribute to her young favorite. She treated her as brutally as some of the males, forcing the nozzle into her and rotating it around in her sheath as she penetrated the required three times. She left Monique to the next supplicant with the rod still lodged inside of her.

When they had all finished they retired to the stalls. The superior removed the juice-coated nozzle, his face and senses aflame. With a nod he silently instructed Brother Sebastian to turn Monique over so that she now faced him. He approached her, stood by her feet, and opened his robe. Monique, eyes fairly bulging from her head, saw in front of her a long and thick prick that bobbed in reflection of the mounting excitement of the man. The head, marked with creases, was slightly shining. The balls, heavy and dark under the bush of wiry hair, made it look more potent. He took Monique's hands as he began to walk toward her, attempting to push apart her legs.

"Spread your thighs!"

She stared him in the eyes and did as he asked. He came closer, his eyes fixed on hers, and stopped right in front of her, astraddle her bosom.

"I told you what was to come," he whispered.

Monique knew what was expected of her as her face was drawn closer to the monk's belly. She resisted for a moment, and the lash whistled down across her exposed pussy. She cried out and leaned lower until the cock was slapping her face. She kept her lips closed as the whip began to caress her hips and thighs, reviving the burning sensations of her flogging on the cross. Knowing she was beaten, and unable to stand the terrible pain, she surrendered completely. She brought her lips to the head of his cock and put her mouth on the purpling flesh.

The superior leaned his head back as Monique took as much of his cock as she could into her mouth. He could feel her sharp breathing and the sharp angles of her teeth on his shaft, and reveled in the low moan uttered by the now filled mouth. Brother Sebastian stopped his lashing and the room was silent except for the sound of Monique's intense sucking of the superior's dick.

Monique, her hands free, aware of the proximity of the lash, held herself close to the thighs of the man. With eyes closed, she licked the enormous dick that distended her cheeks. She could sense the pleasure she was giving him as his already enormous shaft and head thickened from her careful attentions. His balls slapped her chin as he thrust into her, aiding the motion supplied by her mouth. Anxious for his domination to be complete, he placed his hands on Monique's head and rammed his rod all the way down her throat. At the same time he began to come, spurting his hot and slightly acrid sperm into her in three violent gushes. Before he was done, he pulled slightly back so that the head was just inside her lips. He continued to pump until his thick cream oozed from the edges of Monique's mouth. Then he withdrew his shaft, allowing the girl to draw a gasping breath.

Thinking she was finished, Monique attempted to get up, but was quickly pushed back onto the cushion by the superior.

"Oh no," he cooed to her, "I told you I would not be satisfied until I'd driven my rod into the warmth of your sweet pussy, my dear. I want to fuck you.. .and I know you will beg me to do it." He raised a hand.

In horror, Monique saw Brother Sebastian come forward. In his hand he clutched a cat-o'-nine-tails, only these lashes ended in metal tips designed to cut the flesh.

Monique whimpered and drew back. "Fuck me," she pleaded, looking from him to the torture instrument. "Please fuck me."

He smiled and ordered three monks to hold her arms and legs. The two that held her ankles drew them wide apart so that she was widely exposed and completely available to him. Her moist slit shone in the dull light and the superior licked his lips at the sight of it. He stepped forward between her thighs as two more monks stood on each side of her head. Then the superior knelt down and suspended his dick in front of her pussy opening. The organ was still turgid and hard, even after the violent ejaculation that had just occurred.

He leaned forward and pressed the head against her taut folds. He stared at her as he began penetrating her cunt, stretching her flesh horribly because of the girth of his cock.

Monique's fear and excitement began to grow. Never had she been fucked by such an instrument; she thought she couldn't accommodate it. But the thick head gained entrance without too much difficulty, and she lay there pleasantly stuffed.

The superior hesitated a moment, relishing the sensations, then as he started to force his shaft inside her, he nodded to the two monks on either side of the girl. They stepped forward and opened their robes, revealing long, thin cocks that throbbed with desire. They pushed them forward until the velvety pink heads hovered just within reach of her mouth. As the superior fucked her, she was required to alternate licking and sucking the two pricks.

The huge cock in her pussy continued to slide into her canal, scouring every inch of her clutching membranes and sending the most delicious sensations through her. The superior, arching his back, panting with the effort, reared back at the hips and plunged forward, penetrating entirely. His balls contacted Monique's buttocks and his thick hair meshed with her golden muff.

Monique, her head throbbing, was wildly turning her head from side to side, taking first one cock into her mouth, and then accepting the other.

The superior was taking his time, enjoying the feel of her hot pussy, as he plunged into her again and again. The others that she sucked could not hold out quite so long. One of them shot off into her mouth, filling her throat with his salty flood. The other released his load against her face, spattering her cheeks and lips and hair with his come. She was still being fucked when two more monks - one of them Brother Laurent - took the places of those that just finished. Monique, intoxicated by the pleasure she experienced between her legs, closed her eyes and gobbled the pricks of the latest arrivals. Her sighs now mingled with those of the monks, one fucking and two being sucked. Brother Laurent freed himself from her throat after several minutes and slid his hands lower, crushing her tits and manipulating her nipples. Just then the cock in her mouth began to spurt, and the superior was again on the verge of releasing his ivory tide. She swallowed the first stream and luxuriated in the sensation of the second coating her innards as that thick piece of meat continued to pound into her. Finally satiated, the superior pulled himself from her. His prick came loose with a wet plop and he returned to his place in the stall.

Brother Laurent quickly shuffled forward and took the superior's place. His rod was thinner than the previous one and it slid more easily into her already greased pussy. After a few short pumps, the monk, victim of his too-long-contained desire, shot his burning liquor into Monique's belly.

Monique, excited again by the sudden attack coming so quickly on the heels of the last, was somewhat disappointed by its almost immediate conclusion. But this didn't last long as Brother Sebastian moved to the mouth of her gaping portal and lowered his ramrod for the penetration. In contrast to his heavy-handedness with the whip, he was almost gentle as his cockhead sank into her. He pushed the shaft in slowly, deeply, filling her with his hardness. As he did so he reached up and found her breasts with his fingers and began massaging her jutting nipples. His hips thrust forward and back in an increasingly rapid motion; Monique gave herself up to the sheer pleasure of it and relaxed completely. Soon his plunges and thrusts had her writhing her pelvis and clamping her legs around his back. He drove into her again and again until his body began to shake and he spewed his love juices into her belly. Her own rising cries announced to the monks that she was releasing her own passionate shower as she wrung the last drop of Brother Sebastian's ejaculation from him.

When the monk raised himself off her, the superior got up from his chair and said to Monique: "Now, my daughter, as the last act of your purification, you must obtain, in each stall and from each of the brethren, forgiveness for your sins.

He helped her up and guided her to where the monks were sitting awaiting her, drunk with pleasure and lust. Immediately two hands grabbed her boobs; hers sought the erect cock that rose from the dark robe like a pale flagpole. The man sucked passionately at her tits, licking her nipples and nibbling the very tips, while she lightly masturbated him. The hand that had slipped underneath to finger her cunt suddenly lifted her by the buttocks and turned her around, so that she was made to sit on the man's knees. His prick found her dripping slit and impaled her as she dropped her weight onto it. She rotated slowly, crushing her buttocks against his thighs. Then she rose up and down, fucking herself with the slim cock that was wedged inside of her. She wasn't close to coming when he began to blow his load in her pussy. She left him quickly and moved to the next stall. This monk penetrated her in one long stroke as she sat on his cock facing him. He sucked her tits at the same time as he pushed his hips forward and up into her, but he too lacked the self-discipline to make the act last sufficiently long for her to derive any pleasure from it. As he came in three shuddering spurts he nibbled her neck and let her go. She didn't even feel the penetration of the third one, so small was his flesh pole.

The seventh monk obliged her to kneel in front of him. He caressed her breasts and used them as a sheath for his throbbingly erect penis. He French-fucked her this way for a while, sliding his dick along the channel between her huge tits, then he grabbed Monique's head and forced her lips to his swollen cockhead. The turgid gland was hot to the touch; she licked it all around, paying equal attention to all parts. She worked her way down to the balls along the ridged underside of his shaft, sucking one and then the other into her mouth before returning to the pulsating cap. As she sucked at it his hot sperm began to fill her mouth. She swallowed frantically and managed to accept most of it; only a thin stream dribbled from her lips and coursed slowly down her chin.

The next two acted in concert: One buried himself in her pussy while the other fucked her ass. She could feel the two thick organs undulating inside her side by side, and she nearly came.. .but in the end they left her dissatisfied, both of them withdrawing from her so that they could ejaculate all over her belly, thighs, and buttocks.

She finally came to the last one - the monk who had so avidly sought Selma's attentions. He simply pushed her onto the floor, not even granting her the comfort of a pillow, and fucked her violently. He pumped into her again and again, rearing back until the tip of his cock was just inside her aching pussy, then ramming forward until his pubic bone met hers with a hard smack. He used her mercilessly beneath the gaze of the other satiated monks. He grasped her jouncing breasts and twisted them cruelly, bending forward from time to time to take the nipples between his teeth and worry them as a dog would a bone. Finally, as he neared orgasm, he withdrew from her and forced his dripping lance between her lips. He pulled her head forward until his entire length was lodged in her throat, then he began to come. She swallowed and swallowed until he was dry. Then he rose and left her spread-eagled on the floor.

Brother Laurent brought the oil lamp near to Monique's legs. Everyone could see the copious amounts of sperm oozing from her every orifice and pooling on all parts of her body and on the floor. Brother Sebastian came with a vase of water and a long pipe that ended in a tiny faucet. Brother Laurent took another large nozzle and affixed it to the end of the pipe. Monique was propped against the cross as the superior drew close.

"Brothers, your sister has now finished her penance. Let your psalms be a soothing sound while she receives the purification of the water..."

First he washed the fluids from her delicate slit, carefully stroking her mount with a soft cloth. Then he leaned over her so-often tortured ass and placed the nozzle against her hole. Monique was stabbed with pain as the huge bulb touched her and slowly began to penetrate her rear. Her breath came in ragged gasps as the rod finally disappeared within her. The superior then opened the faucet and the water descended in a steady stream from the vase. Monique began to undulate her ass as the water made her belly heavier and heavier. She tried to contract her muscles to stop the penetration of the water, but in vain. She tried to push outward, to expel the nozzle, but that was fruitless as well. Her sighs changed to cries of pain as the fluid bloated her.

The superior abruptly stopped the flow and motioned to Brother Sebastian. The monk approached, dangling an ivory ball from a long string held in one hand. They both leaned over Monique and popped the olive into her hole after removing the nozzle. The string was the only part of it visible after they made sure of its proper placement. Then they released the girl and turned her around so that she faced the brothers. Her belly was splendid in its nakedness, slightly protruding from the pressure of the water she held. They all contemplated her voluptuous form. The superior bent his head and put his ear to the flesh of her belly as if listening to the gargle of the water. When he was done, all the monks passed before her and repeated his action, caressing her thighs and breasts at the same time.

Selma was the last to approach her. Her eyes were shining and she stared at Monique fixedly. She was holding the leather whip in one hand. "Look," she said in a voice coarse with desire, "look at your belly.. .how beautiful it is. It is almost as if you were pregnant. Show your flesh to these men. Show it better than you have been. Show that it is alive. Dance for them.. .dance. . .dance...!" She lashed at Monique's buttocks with the rod. Monique jumped from the viciousness of the blow. The water rumbled within her belly. Three more blows whistled across her ass cheeks.

"Dance!" Selma demanded in a rage.

With a final moan, Monique obeyed. She lifted her arms above her head, thus raising her voluptuous breasts, and slowly emulated the gyrations of a belly dancer. To the monks it was indeed a delicious sight to see her tits bouncing and her swollen belly shaking in the half-darkness. The inflated flesh was flexing and relaxing, the navel opening and closing like a little mouth in its midst. Her pussy alternatingly was offered and denied at the joint of her thighs as she whirled around. Sometimes she would draw close to the salivating men and shake her voluminous globes. When it seemed she was tiring, Selma spurred her on with carefully placed strokes of the whip. But soon Monique lost all her strength and she stumbled, collapsing on the ground with an exhausted sob.

Selma turned her on her back and squatted over her head, lowering her eager pussy to the girl's lips. She reached under and fumbled in the pink flesh of her cunt, parting the lips, preparing the erect bud. Selma moaned and dropped onto Monique's mouth.

The monks greedily absorbed this scene. Monique, her eyes closed, began to lap at Selma's pussy. She locked her arms around the woman's rump and drove her tongue up into the taut slit. Selma's cries almost ceased to be human as Monique created an enormous suction in the secret folds of her body. She continued to dart in and out with the tip of her tongue, and nibbled at the quivering clitoris. At this Selma arched her back and panted like an animal. She ground her mound into Monique's face and raised and lowered her hips to accentuate the sensations she experienced. Finally she released the stream of her passion and collapsed in a nerveless heap. Monique lay unmoving as well, too exhausted to do anything but accept her fate. A moment later Selma rose to her feet and, after a last glance at Monique's prostrate form, returned to her stall.

Two monks assisted Monique to her feet, propping her on a high stool, thighs spread and elevated. One by one the monks came by and kissed her exposed breasts and pussy, and then left the room while the others were chanting a final psalm. Soon the only ones left in the room were Selma, Monique, and the superior. He bent his head and for a long time he caressed her belly, kissing and titillating it with the tip of his tongue. Then he came to the nipples and by a series of strokes and caresses he succeeded, however improbably, in exciting the girl once more. He then helped her from the stool, lowering her to the floor and onto her back. With his knees he spread her legs, and with his fingers separated the lips of her cunt. Taking Monique's hand, he placed her fingers on her love bud.

"Now, come in front of my eyes!" he commanded.

Before Selma could raise her whip to convince Monique to obey, Monique sighed and slowly began to masturbate herself. The superior seemed fascinated by the way her fingers brushed the crest of flesh, how the clit was getting thicker and more erect. He gently kissed her thighs, still contemplating her steady-motion as she sank one finger into her pussy. Her movements began to accelerate nervously, and she added another finger to the one that was goading her toward the precipice of pleasure. The superior could almost feel her excitement increasing, and see her passion rise. Her thighs were vibrating and her belly, filled as it was with the water, was swaying with the movement of the liquid. Then she sighed again and tremors agitated her entire body. The pace of the fingers accelerated again.., and now a little bit of sap was wetting them. Finally she cried out, her buttocks left the floor, and her body arched.

Soon after the superior led her gently to a corner by the confessional. He pulled a cord suspended from the ceiling and a bell rang somewhere in the shadowy recesses of the monastery. Soon the dim silhouette of a nun appeared in the chamber, and taking Monique by the hand led her to a nearby bathroom, where the ivory olive was finally removed from her ass and she was allowed to ease the tensions within her.

Afterward the nun returned her cape to her and helped her put it on, but not before she bent her head and sucked greedily at Monique's nipples. Monique was led back to the crypt where Selma and the superior awaited her. The monk opened her cape and devoured her nudity one last time. He showed the two women out through the dark corridors, assisting Monique who was at the end of her strength. As he left them at the door he muttered:

"Go in peace, little daughter, but return soon. You will always be welcome here and it will always be a virgin I lead to the gate..." So saying he kissed her hand.

Selma drove the car in silence, waiting until they were at the entrance to the villa before facing the exhausted girl.

"Are you angry?" murmured Monique. "And why did you take such an active part in the activities?"

Selma shrugged. "Jealousy perhaps. I arranged our little get-together with the best of intentions. I wanted to make this evening memorable for you. But when I saw those men with their cocks inside you..." Her voice trailed off. "But don't worry I've planned something for tomorrow that I don't doubt will make both of us feel a lot better. Call it a bit of 'revenge' if you will."

Monique shivered. "Tomorrow?" The memory of the evening's pain and indignities was still fresh in her mind. But so was the exquisite excitement and desire she'd felt. She knew she would do whatever Selma asked.