The Convent School; Or, Early Experiences of a Young Flagellant
his parts more pleasing to your sensuality? Is he better furnished
than your husband? Speak up; confess all your wickedness! Did no sense
of shame shock you in the midst of your enjoyment with that fellow,
eh?”
Every question brought a scathing cut with it, breaking the weals and
drawing fresh blood at every stroke, but I really was so ashamed I
knew not how to answer, and my tongue was useless except for moans or
cries of pain, and notwithstanding all their degrading and cruel
treatment I felt it was fully deserved by me.
“Won’t you speak? won’t you confess your sorrow for your sin?” he
continued. “Are you really so lost to all sense of shame as to be
hardened against repentance? This must be whipped, yes, whipped out of
you, even if it nearly costs your life!”
Just then Father Anthony loosed the rope a little, so that I could
shrink further from the blows of the scourge, till I was driven up to
the wall, where I stood on tiptoe with my hands drawn up over my head,
and my back bending as much as possible to avoid the terrible shower
of blows with which he was cutting up my buttocks still more and more.
Crimson with shame, tears flowing in torrents from my starting eyes, I
moaned, cried and implored for mercy, protesting in a broken voice,
“That ever since my husband had renewed his kindness to me I had been
very, very sad and ashamed of myself for what I had done, and only his
former neglect had caused me to throw myself into the arms of a
handsome man to whom I was under great obligations for protecting me
when I escaped from the Ursuline Convent.”
“Ha, then, you are that Lucille who insulted Lady Superior, I heard
all about it at the time!” he went on furiously. “Now you shall be
punished for that too,” seizing my left leg and lifting it up, so
that he could cut freely under my thighs, on my sore cunny, and every
tenderest spot he could think of, whilst old Father Anthony was
rubbing his hands in delight at the sight.
My agony was so intense that I could only gasp and sigh, strength I
had none, he seemed beside himself with rage, but at last dropped his
scourge, and throwing open his frock in front I could feel his rampant
pego thrusting towards my mount, and am sure he spent on my drawers
outside before he could get into me; this he soon effected, and taking
my buttocks up in his strong embrace, he fucked furiously, swaying me
about with my arms still tied up by the rope; but I forgot all that,
his motions within me took away all feeling of pain, and I believe
much as I loathed him and felt humiliated by all his dreadful
treatment that I actually spent copiously when I felt his hot sperm
shooting into and soothing my overheated cunt.
He was so overcome that Father Anthony seeing he was about to fall,
released me, or loosened the rope so that we sank down together on the
floor, and laid almost motionless for a few minutes, till the old
priest, taking up a scourge, began to whip us both unmercifully, and
made Francisco get up. This was the end for that time, but I was
ordered to prepare for a final penance in a day or two’s time.
[Decoration]
[Decoration]
Chapter V.
_The Last Scène and Denouement._
They kept me in the same chamber, where I had been so outraged, the
two nuns nursing,—bathing my bruises, and using soothing injections to
allay the inflammations of my privates, till, on the third day, they
said I was so far recovered that my Confessors might finish the
prescribed penance, adding, with a malicious smile, “we saw everything
last time, and so we shall now, through our peepholes; how delicious
the sight was last time, and we had such frigging and dildoe fucks
after it was all over.”
Having said this, they speedily disappeared and I was left to await my
fate in trembling anxiety; I was hot and cold by turns, as the
recollection of all the humiliating and painful incidents of the other
day came back so vividly to my mind, and in imagination I seemed to
suffer all my tortures over again.
This did not last long, although you may be sure it seemed long enough
to me in my state of apprehension. A key was turned in the lock, and
the door creaked on its hinges; my persecuting confessors again stood
before me in reality, with quite a sardonic expression of anticipated
pleasure on their faces; no trace of pity could I find on either
visage, nothing but gloating sensuality seemed to animate the ardent
looks with which they regarded me for some moments.
The hateful Francisco was the first to address me, a smile of terrible
meaning playing round his mouth, showing his pearly white teeth to
such perfection that I was again strongly reminded of my husband.
“Lady Ellington, I hope, has had good time for reflection upon the
heinousness of her sins, particularly those in contravention of her
marriage vows; wantonness is as nothing compared to that. What has the
penitent Lucille to say? Has her chastisement made her feel the pangs
of real remorse?” he said, whisking a scourge before my face.
I was too frightened to speak; face, neck and bosom, I could feel,
were in a burning heat, whilst my eyes could not meet his, for
something more than shame instinctively told me what I might have to
suffer at his hands.
“No sign of repentance here, Father Anthony; she must be stripped
naked at once. Do you hear, Lucille? Strip—strip—strip at once, or it
will be much the worse for you!” he said with rough ferocity.
Both priests helped me to undress, and in their impetuous haste almost
tore the clothes off my back, at the same time taking all sorts of
disgusting liberties, and keeping me in a continued state of
confusion, at last when nothing was left but my chemise to remove,
they suddenly tied the rope round my left ancle, and in an instant I
found myself suspended head downwards, with the right leg kicking in
the air, and screaming piteously for mercy.
“Secure her wrists to the rings in the floor,” said Francisco, “and
then help me to whip the seat of lust till she is a little more
repentant.”
The elder priest speedily effected this, and then both of them with
scourges commenced to whip me most mercilessly, aiming their
relentless cuts between my legs so as to cut the lips of my cunt and
round my bottom-hole at every blow; now and then the cruel thongs
would wind round the upper part of my thighs, or on to my mount; my
cries were heartrending, as each blow seemed to re-open all my old
cuts and bruises. “Ah! Ah—r—r—re! Oh! Oh!! will you never have pity,
and believe me sorry for my faults?” I screamed or moaned, and gasped
out the words in intense agony.
“So you begin to repent a little under the lash, do you, Lucille, are
you really sorry for having wronged Lord Ellington, is it your mind or
your cunt that is most filled with remorse? How you seem to writhe,
and how prettily we are making it look for you, the trickling blood is
delightful to see as it flows in drops and rills over your back and
belly!” His questions were spoken slowly as he seemed to enjoy the
pleasure of my intense suffering, and two or three of his cuts were
over the tender surface of my belly or right across the navel.
“Scream away, you sensual woman, why don’t you implore the Holy Virgin
to have pity and forgive you, we are only carrying out her commands,
are we not Father Francisco?” hissed out old Anthony, as he continued
to scourge my back and sides, and every now and then aimed a fearful
blow right down my lacerated cunny. Again they would stop for a
little, and ask me jeeringly, “about my feeling of remorse, would I
indulge in such obscenity with my husband again, or keep from adultery
in future?”
I was almost too far gone to do more than moan, and Father Anthony
suggested that I ought to be well lashed over my neck, shoulders, and
bosom, to make me speak out, but the other seeing how exhausted I
really was, restrained his mad fury, and then after waiting a little
one of them would give me a terrible cut, and ask the other to see the
beautiful effects of it as I swayed about in agony; this was done
again and again, till after a time the scourges were thrown aside, and
the rope being lowered I was allowed to lay on the floor for a little
while, and some cordial was again administered to refresh me, my
tormentors sitting down and frigging themselves openly before my face,
till in the act of spending they would stand over me so that I might
be thoroughly humiliated by having all their spendings drop on my
face, neck, or head, as I was still secured to the floor by my wrists.
Presently, at a sign from Francisco, his companion hoisted me up by
the ancle again, and did it so tightly that I was frightfully
stretched by my arms and leg; which were drawn as painfully tight as
he could make it, the fastenings cutting into the flesh so that I bear
the marks to this very day, I could see that Francisco was again
preparing his godemiche with oil, but he did not put any upon my
person.
Horrified at the sight, I begged and implored them in the most piteous
manner not to degrade me again with that disgusting instrument,
promising to pay the Church any amount for absolution rather than
endure it again.
“Too late, too late, your repentance is not sincere, besides, the
other day we saw with our eyes how your lascivious nature responded to
the thrusts of this thing in your cunt, now I am going to degrade
your bottom-hole by inserting it there, however painful the operation
may prove,” saying which he seized, and held my left leg under his
arm, and standing close to my body at once proceeded to carry out his
infernal idea of ravishing my anus. Lacerated, bleeding, and sore as
my bottom was at the least touch, and regardless of my piercing
shrieks, he forced the oily head of the india rubber thing quite into
my tightly contracted bum-hole, the pain was intense, as it seemed to
rend the lining tissue of the anal canal in its passage, and the
bristles round its root added, if possible, still more to the
intensity of my suffering.
I believe, that giving one long shriek of agony, I lost consciousness
for a time, but only to awake and find them laughing and jeering at my
sufferings, as the one worked his dildoe in my bottom, whilst the
other had thrust two or three fingers up my blood-stained and wounded
cunt. It is quite indescribable what I felt at this outrage, the
accumulation of shame, agony and horror so overpowered my exhausted
nature, that I went off again into such a death-like swoon, that they
really feared I was dead, and made haste to let me down as well as
apply strong restoratives.
My hands were still retained in the rings on the floor, and the
godemiche was left sticking in my bottom, the spasmodic contractions
of the sphincter muscle holding it as in a vice, whilst the pulsations
of the violated passage behind were still awfully painful. All this
was apparent to me as I slowly came to myself once more, and could see
the excited looks of my cruel Confessors, who proceeded to sprinkle me
with cold water, and use a large sponge for the purpose of both
refreshing me and allowing them to gloat over the extent of my hurts.
This lasted a little while, then I was made to get up on my hands and
knees, facing Francisco, who then opened his frock, so as to show me
the excited state of his prick, at the same time, with a malicious
look of fiendish joy, he asked me, “If I should not like to suck such
a delightful sweetmeat?” Then seeing my look of intense disgust, he
burst into a rage, saying, “Oh! So you mean to insult me as you did
the Lady Superior of the Ursulines, do you, Lucille? You may think I
am disgusting and nasty, or I smell strong as she did, and I may tell
you, to make you relish it still more, that scarcely an hour ago it