The Convent School; Or, Early Experiences of a Young Flagellant
any suspicions he might entertain.
“My daughter, I must consult our Superior. Yours is such a serious
case, and I beg that you will go into the vestry, by the door behind
this box, and wait a few minutes, till I bring you his decision,” said
Father Francisco.
I was all of a tremble, my face felt hot with blushes of shame and I
longed to hide from observation for a few minutes, so I readily went
into the vestry, as he had requested. It was a bare scantily furnished
room, with a few chairs, a writing table covered with papers, and some
priests’ frocks and vestments hanging round the walls.
Presently the old priest who had accosted me on my first entering the
church, came to conduct me to Father Francisco’s room, but instead of
that, I found myself in the cell of a convent, with the door locked
behind me.
The worst fears assailed my frightened mind; I sank on my knees,
calling on God and my husband to release me, crying and stamping in
impotent rage by turns; this must have lasted an hour or two. Then a
little wicket was opened in the door, and the same old priest told me
to calm myself, for Father Francisco and the Superior were praying to
the Holy Mother to direct them what penance to impose upon such a
sinner, and that I must remain where I was till next day, when, he
added, “no doubt you will be restored to your loving husband, as pure
in mind and spirit as when you first took your marriage vows.”
I was going to implore him to allay the Earl’s anxiety on my behalf,
but he assured me they had sent to his lordship to say that I was
doing penance for some hours in their convent, and quickly closed the
_guichet_, so that I was again left alone.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
Chapter IV.
_The Penance_
Two nuns supplied me with refreshment, made me up a bed on the floor,
and I really had nothing to complain of as to treatment that first
night, still, something seemed to assure me that I really was a
prisoner, and should not so easily get out of the convent. My hope
was, that the Earl would speedily insist upon my speedy release,
(little dreaming at the moment that he was the instigator of my
detention, and had actually acted as confessor in the assumed name of
Father Francisco.)
My anxiety was greatly increased the next day, when hour after hour
passed, and still no communication from the Confessor or Superior, the
nuns who brought me in breakfast and dinner were silent to all my
enquiries or offers of bribes if they would help me get out of the
place.
My watch had stopped for want of a key, but about seven o’clock in the
evening, as near as I could guess, the old priest opened the door, and
beckoned me to follow him. My heart suddenly recovered its courage,
and I braced up my nerves to bear the severest penance; we passed
along several passages, and at last opening a door, he motioned me to
enter. There, sitting before a small table, which had a bible and
crucifix upon it, sat a rather young priest, about the same age as my
husband, but with a close shaven face and crown (the Earl had heavy
whiskers and moustache, I had never seen him otherwise), and he
struck me as being very like Francis about the nose and eyes, still,
no suspicion that it could really be him came into my mind.
“Daughter Lucille, Lady Ellington,” said the seated Confessor, as the
other locked the door behind me, “In answer to prayer, the Holy Mother
has inspired us to grant you absolution, only after the most severe
personal chastisement and humiliations we can possibly inflict upon
you. Then, you will return to your confiding loving husband, purified
of your adulterous sins, but for all that, he will still, and for the
rest of his life, wear the horns of a cuckolded husband, which is his
punishment for teaching you such lascivious ideas; it is an awful sin
to so abandon yourselves to lust, and your unfaithfulness is the
providential punishment he so well deserves.”
My face and neck were suffused with the blushes of burning shame, as
my eyes fell beneath his ardent gaze, besides something instinctively
told me that both Father Francisco and his coadjutor were enjoying the
sight of my confusion.
“Now please divest yourself of everything you have on, except corset,
chemise and drawers, whilst I prepare this scourger for the
chastisement of your wicked sensual flesh, and my brother here will
get that rope in order, ready to tie up your hands above your head.”
I scarcely knew how I got my dress and skirts off, as my hands
trembled so, and the idea of stripping before two men, even if they
were priests, was so distressing to my sense of modesty, but, somehow
or other, I was soon standing up, with my skirts on the floor, about
my heels, and my last under petticoat tucked up under my corset.
Father Francisco confronted me, scourge in hand, and pointing with his
finger to my drawers in front, roughly ordered me to open them, and
show where I had admitted my lover, when in the act of committing
adultery.
“Open it, you wicked woman. I must see the seat of lust itself!”
He flourished his scourge so, and gave me two such terrible cuts round
my buttocks, that I was compelled to obey his immodest and shameful
order, and the moment I had done so, he produced a pair of scissors
and denuded me of nearly all the dark, silky chevelure I took such
delight in viewing in the glass, when ever I dressed myself, or just
got out of my morning bath.
“I suppose you were so excited and wanton, when Lord Dunwich embraced
you, that you shewed him everything, even your nakedness, as the Bible
calls it; did you blush then, as you pretend to do now, Lucille?” he
asked.
My surprise and indignation almost choked me, so that I was unable to
speak, and he gave me a heavy slap with his hand on my bottom, saying,
“So you will not answer, and think I am behaving shamefully, do you?
It’s nothing to what you will have to submit to presently, Lady
Ellington; turn round and open your legs, and stoop forward this
instant, or I will flog the very life out of you!”
His rude hand was passed under my bottom, between my legs, and as I
covered my face with my hands, I could feel his fingers invade every
secret spot in turn, even to forcing a digit up the fundamental
orifice, which is always so tight and difficult of entrance, saying,
as he did so: “Did you let him go there, or has your husband ever
sodomised your bum-hole? Ha! Ha! How modest we are now. Speak; say if
you ever allowed any one to put his prick in your arse?”
I cannot recollect all he said or questioned me about, but his words
and actions were every moment more and more coarse and obscene, on
purpose to add to my humiliation.
“Here, Father Anthony,” he continued, addressing the old priest,
“where is your godemiche? That’s the thing to draw all the wantonness
out of her lustful body. It is well furnished with good stiff
bristles?”
Father Anthony.—“It’s a new one, same as we always keep in stock to
subdue the fleshly lusts of these lascivious female sinners, and never
used before, but I must tie her up.”
The rope, which hung from a pulley in the ceiling, was tied tightly
round my wrists, bringing both hands together; then he pulled it as
hard as possible till I could barely touch the floor with my feet, and
all my weight was upon my arms and the muscles of my back.
“That’s it, exactly,” chuckled Francisco. “Now, my dear Lucille, Lady
Ellington I ought to say, you will really enjoy the insertion of this
jolly dildoe up your cunt, and it is full of a delightful injection,
with which it will spend in response to your emission of pleasure.”
“Ah! No! No! Oh pray don’t treat me with such brutality,” I screamed,
in horror, when I saw the huge red-headed thing, with its shaft
springing from a bed of bristles, fixed round the balls so as to prick
the cunt at every insertion, besides its length and thickness seemed
quite terrible to contemplate. “I am quite content to submit to your
penance of scourging and whipping, but oh, oh, have mercy, and put
that thing out of my sight.”
Father Francisco.—“Look, you need not be so frightened. I shall
lubricate it well with perfumed oil to make it enter you easily,
besides I will put some on your cunt and bottom.” Suiting his actions
to his word, and oiling my privates profusely, especially my
bottom-hole, which he lubricated till he could easily work two fingers
in at once.
It was dreadfully disgusting, but still his frigging my bottom was
rather exciting, and he could tell or guess my feelings, as he went on
to say, “I see you like it, but the dildoe will make you plunge and
spend with delight.”
He then took up my legs; one under each arm, and stood between them,
so they were wide apart, and Father Anthony, his face plainly showing
how he delighted in the task, proceed to force his godemiche into me,
opening the lips of my cunt with his fingers till the head was fairly
in, then ruthlessly shove, shove, shove, till, “Ah! Ah! Oh!
Ah—r—r—r—re!” I screamed in dreadful pain, as the sharp bristles ran
into the tender surroundings of my pussey. “Ah! Ah! Oh, my God!” I
screamed plunging and writhing in my agony, his eyes glared into mine
with a fiendish delight, only equalled by the look of his companion,
who held my legs like a vice, and encouraged him to fuck the wanton
woman till she had had enough to keep her out of adultery for a long
time to come.
Presently Father Francisco, digging his nails into the flesh of my
legs, said excitedly, “See, see, she’s coming. The gluey spend is
glistening on your dildoe. Now, now, shoot it into her; let her enjoy
it!”
In a moment I felt the hot gush of the contents of the godemiche. It
rather relieved me for a moment or two, but oh, oh, my dear, even
after this long lapse of time, I can never forget the agony of that
moment. The whole of my body seemed filled with liquid fire, for they
had filled the dildoe with some infernal decoction on purpose to ruin
my health, and destroy all chance of my ever enjoying the sweets of
love again. Such I know was their intent, for they taunted me with it
at the time; but although I never quite recovered from the shock to my
system, and feel even now that it was the original cause of my
premature decay, they did not succeed in depriving me of all sensual
desire or feelings for the future.
I fainted, but they never let me down, and when at last I began to
recover consciousness Father Francisco was using his scourge most
unmercifully on my buttocks, the drawers being open, and the naked
flesh exposed to every cut.
“I thought this would bring her round”, exclaimed he. “See, Father
Anthony, her eyes are opening, it will soon make her forget the
dildoe fucking, she did enjoy that, did she not, Anthony? But she’ll
be a long time before she has such pleasure again. Ha! Ha! Ha!!! how
lovely she is getting, see her wriggle from the pain of every cut. Ah,
Lucille, dear Lady Ellington, what intense delight the sight of your
agony is to us.”
By this time either he was tired, or he thought a little respite would
enable me to bear more presently, so dropping the scourge on the floor
he left me still suspended, whilst himself and assistant sat down and
gloated over the sight of my suspended figure and blood-stained
bottom, with their hands under their frocks, and I verily believe now
they were frigging themselves.
After about ten minutes Father Francisco again approached, scourge in
hand, whilst the elder priest gave me a few drops of cordial, and held
some pungent salts under my nose to refresh me a little. “That will
do,” said the former, “stand back, Father Anthony. Now, now, you
wicked, wanton, lustful young woman, did you wish your husband dead
when having connexion with Lord Dunwich? Why don’t you answer? Were