MSL-07 The Devil's Nun


FOREWORD

My Lord Wyndham's cock was at full mast, its bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip purple with 
passion, the piss slit gleaming with a pearl-like drop of his gism.

I marveled at his stoical ability to bear up under pain. After all, I had whipped him royally, 
as he deserved. His flesh was flayed, some of it hanging in ribbons.

But his native sexual predilections, so long indulged, would endure in the face of his being 
humiliated by a commoner, and a woman at that!

The woman whose virginity he had wrested from her, violently, at an early age.

It is said in some of the oriental manuscripts which I have read, as scrivener in Our Lady of 
the Sea's convent, that life is a circle.

If so, then the line that commenced my evil career, began at the point where I myself had 
now drawn it.

Once a pawn, prey to every whim of every man and woman, I had now become a power to
be reckoned with.

My Lord's method of reckoning was to achieve tumescence. His bloody flesh was now 
tainted with the rosy hue of passionate flush. I raised the heavy homespun of my nun's garb, 
fully intending to tell my numbers with all the alacrity with which I told my beads, at, I confess,
a most extortionate price!

Having imprisoned and tortured My Lord Wyndham, I now intended to wrest from him my
most beloved prize, my fleshy pleasure!

I knelt to the priapic god whom I adored, bobbing lewdly stretched out from the pubic 
forest in which it nested (not too often, I imagine) I grasped his great massive sword of flesh, 
feeling it throb violently where it nestled in the soft palm of my hand. I placed the gleaming, 
drooling tip of that fleshy snake, at the entrance of my dark and secret tunnel, and began to 
sit on it, causing the fleshy snake to slither, undulating, into my welcoming fuck channel.

I threw my head back, feeling my tight walls stretched by his monstrous fuck rod, feeling 
the pleasure, like a lowering thundercloud, rumble in my belly, seeking to unleash a storm 
which would inundate us both.

And who knew what lay at the end of the sexual strife in which I intended to engage My 
Lord Wyndham--perhaps my salvation, perhaps his ruin; ultimately some fatal consummation 
of our lewd, fleshy joining.

And I--I didn't care! As the passion grew in my bowels, overriding my usual mental acuity, 
possessing me like an incubus, a demon in my entrails!

I felt his massive prod, plumbing the depths of my womanhood, his huge shaft throbbing 
wildly against my suppurating walls, and I felt my snatch begin to suck on the fleshy pleasure 
pole invading my loins.


CHAPTER ONE

My name is Annette La Bruyere. I am she who is known as the Devil's Nun. And so, on 
perhaps my last night, I confess it. It is true. I have been the Devil's instrument.

I do not know all the evil I have done. A man (or woman--we, too act as well as are acted 
upon) does a deed in this twisted dark forest of a world, and like a stone plummeting into a 
deep, still pool, the ripples travel ever-wider in concentric circles.

So are my deeds. Great disturbances in this pool of life, great noises made by trampling 
beyond the carefully defined paths of this deep dark forest. I do not know how far my evil has 
traveled.

A monk stopped at the priory where I have lived, all these ten long years, from Germany, 
and he brought to the very source, the legend of my deeds.

I shudder to think how I rewarded him!

It is twilight. I am constrained to my cell, a narrow room of hewn stone, with nothing to 
grace it but the crucifix over my wooden table, and a narrow, hard cot, and the candle which 
bums, and which will burn all night, as I write my story.

I will secrete it in the wall behind my bed, to be found there, perhaps in distant times, to 
explain my life, perhaps to exonerate me from some of the evil effects of my action.

My cell is bare and cold. From the high, arched window, I can see nothing but an 
occasional pin-point of light. On the hill in the distance, heavily fringed by the forest, the 
castle of My Lord Wyndham stands, white and tall, like a priapic symbol etched in stone, 
thickly fringed by the pubic forest beneath it.

Yes, I am a nun who deals in sexual references. I am quite skilled sexually, and more 
knowledgeable than most doctors and priests who deal in their confessionals day in and day 
out, with the weaknesses of the flesh, confessed, purged, and committed again, on and on.

For so it must be. More powerful than the sword, more vaulting than the vain ambition of 
man as he strives for an ever-distant perfection, which may be unattainable, the demands of 
the flesh will be heard and acceded to.

Such is the condition of humanity!

Ah, but I ramble. I must tell my tale, forthrightly, and with courage.

I was born in the forest of Ardennes. My parents were gentle, upright folk. Shortly after my
birth, as if, even in my infancy I was an evil spirit cast upon the earth to blight it, my father was
killed in a hunting accident.

He was killed by My Lord Wyndham, Duke of Ardennes, Count of Malmedy, holder of land 
equal in worth to a king's ransom. My Lord Wyndham is a most accomplished hunter.

Unfortunately, my father, out chopping wood for his Lord, was in the way of My Lord 
Wyndham's hunter which was galloping vent-a-terre through the woods after a boar.

Two of My Lord's retainers brought the mangled body of my father home, dangling like a 
side of beef from between their horses. They dumped the body on my mother's doorstep, 
having inquired of passersby who the dead man was, and where his home was.

My mother let out a great shriek and fainted dead away. The neighbors told me they 
feared she was dead, so profound was her unconsciousness.

My father was buried in the old churchyard of St. Marie de Mare, right off the village 
square. I often visit there in my solitary wanderings, musing on the life I have led, the tortuous 
ways I have traveled.

Invariably my footsteps have led me to that simple graveyard, filled with the bones of my 
ancestors, and the friends of my father and mother. Peasants never live very long.

My mother regained consciousness several days after my father died. She never quite 
believed in his death, and the neighbors cared for her, while she cared for me.

She was not a particularly loving mother. She was always a stranger to me. But she was not
abusive, nor really cold, either. Just strange. Distant, always grieving, seemingly deprived of 
the sight or sound of laughter and joy, she lived her days doing her duty, uncomplaining, and 
mostly unutterably silent.

If we were poor, I could not say we were starving as some poor beggars. The neighbors 
took good care of us. When I was three, one of my mother's neighbors came to my mother's 
door.

"Madame Annette, it is time to take Little Annette to church school. My mother, carding 
wool at the fireplace, looked first at the neighbor, and then at me. She silently nodded.

"Go with Madame Claire, Annette," she said to me, in her vague, sweet way. I dropped the 
little ball of wool I was playing with, content to remain at my mother's feet, and toddled to 
Madame Claire.

Madame Claire and her daughter, Marie, were the wife and daughter of a prosperous 
farmer, who had been able to purchase both his freedom and a small plot of land.

I was particularly fond of Marie, who always laughed and sang like a lark. I, like my mother 
who bore me, and nurtured me, was grave, mostly silent, but I was drawn to the sweet, kind 
little girl like a moth to flame, wondering where my laughter was.

I had thought in my childish way, that some people were born laughing, and others were 
born to grieve. It did not occur to me that laughter is a quality born of living a certain way, or 
even a way of looking at life.

My mother never smiled and never sang, therefore, I never did.

And so began a new period in my life. I went to school every day, Monday through 
Saturday, from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon. And then I went home, to help
my mother and learn housekeeping.

I showed unusual promise, apparently, at my studies, and just as much skill with the 
housekeeping lessons my mother taught me.

And so I prospered until I was ten years old.

I woke up one morning at five, hearing the great rooster crowing from the Vervin farm. I 
started the fire in the fireplace, and put on the great pot for water.

Then I went to awaken my mother. She did not awaken at my light touch, nor my childish 
voice. I leaned over her, staring at her. In my childish heart was awakened the knowledge and 
the fear of death.

I ran to the street, seeking Tante Lisa, who lived next door to me. She came quickly at my 
bidding.

My mother was dead. She was laid to rest beside the father whom I had never known in 
the little country church yard.

For awhile, I lived with Tante Lisa. But she had eight children of her own to care for, and I 
was too much.

Contact was made with my grandparents, my father's parents, who lived in the woods in 
Ardennes, game keepers to My Lord Wyndham. They lived in great fear of the cruel, unfeeling 
lord who ran the castle and his country with a zealous husbandry that was harsh and jealous.

And so it was that I left the little town in which I was born, and went to live in the woods 
with my grandparents.

They were old and stem, but not unkindly. All the lessons I had learned stood me in good 
stead, since I did most of my grandmother's housekeeping.

Before I had left, the good parish priest had provided me with books, and reminded me to 
continue my lessons, since I had been graced with an ability to read and write which was 
singular among my class.

And so the days passed. I wondered at my ill fortune in losing a mother and father so 
young.

I was to wonder further even more, not too much later.

Six months after I had gone to live with my grandparents, my grandmother went after a 
chicken which had roosted in a cupboard which stood in one corner of the big room which 
was living room, dining room, and kitchen, not to mention entrance hall, a fact I appreciated 
in the dead of winter, when the room was perpetually cold and frequently filled with snow 
which blew in the chinks around the door, and the two windows which flanked it.

As she reached for the chicken, she knocked over the candle which stood on the lower 
shelf of the cupboard.

It was all over! The flame of the candle sputtered, but it did not go out. It caught at the dry
straw which covered the floor, and went up in a fiery whoosh that struck the fear of God and 
fire into me, which has lasted to this day.

I saw my grandmother, paralyzed with fear.

"Granny!" I cried, reaching for her just as the hem of her thin homespun gown caught on 
fire.

My grandmother screamed mightily as the cloth caught quickly. Soon her lower 
extremities were bathed in fire.

I dragged her with all the strength of my eleven years, out of the house and rolled her 
frantically in the snow.

My grandfather appeared in the clearing, just as the flames were starting to light up the 
windows.

I managed to put out the fire on my grandmother's robes, as my grandfather, who had 
been poaching, dropped the pheasant he had caught for our supper, and rushed into the 
house.

I ran to stop him.

"Stop, Grandfather, stop!"

"The donkey!" he cried, pushing me roughly to the snowy ground, and rushing into the 
flaming cabin.

It was only then that I heard the frantic braying of my grandfather's donkey, trapped in the
room. To my grandfather that beast of burden meant wood, fire, and food. He used it for 
everything.

I heard a great scream, and then a dull thud, and silence.

Whimpering, frantic with fear and anxiety, I ran to my grandmother. She was still, white 
and silent.

I recognized the stillness, having become all-too-familiar with it now. It was the same 
stillness that had enveloped my mother when I found her dead in her bed.

I did as I had learned from Tante Lisa, and bent my head down, pressing my ear to my 
grandmother's very still breast. There was no sound of a heartbeat.

I drew her fire-ravaged outer skirt up over her face, and turned at the sound of a great 
crash.

The roof of the cabin had fallen in.

My grandfather was dead in that inferno, and I was again homeless. I sat by the dead body
of my grandmother for the longest time, watching the fire die down, until the cabin was a 
scattered pile of flickering ashes, a black pit in the snow which surrounded it.

I became more and more frightened as the morning progressed into afternoon. The 
afternoon brought a chill wind which whipped through my poor, thin garments, leaving me 
blue-lipped and shaking. I had no outer cloak, and my poor clothes were haven for every 
biting wind which whipped around me.

No one came, nothing disturbed the stillness of the afternoon forest. The birds sang as 
before, the wind whispered in the bare boughs of the trees, nothing in that great, silent forest 
woke to wail the death of my grandparents, no one took note of the tragedy which had 
occurred.

Feeling lonely beyond my young belief, and isolated, I started to walk in the general 
direction in which I knew the town lay.

I had to get help to bury my grandmother, and the remains of my grandfather, if indeed 
there were any in the ashes. I would go to the village priest.

I was afraid to go to Tante Lisa. She had done so much for me already. I staggered along 
the path toward the edge of the woods. The trip by donkey cart had been long enough. By 
foot it was endless.

The early twilight was descending on the forest when I heard the sound of riders, and 
much laughter and raucous singing.

That would be the help I so eagerly sought! I waited by the edge of the road, eagerly 
seeking sight of the riders galloping swiftly toward me.

It was a party of hunters, and their day in the woods had been successful. Bags of game 
were slung on the saddles of most of the horsemen.

At the head of the party, was a rider who struck fear in my heart, the man whom I knew 
had killed my father, Lord Wyndham! But I had no time now to think of paltry personal 
grievances.

My grandparents lay lifeless and in need of burying, in the lord's woods. Surely the man 
would help me.

I rushed away from the sere bracken lining the road, and waved my arms.

"Please, My Lord, please help me!"

My Lord Wyndham pulled his richly caparisoned horse up short. The great black brute, 
with the white mane, tossed his head, and pawed the dirt road.

"Well, what have we here?" the duke called, holding up his hand to arrest the progress of 
the rest of his party.

It was then that I realized the man was drunk.

As a child of the village, I was not unfamiliar with the effects of drunkenness on men and 
women.

Commoners frequently got drunk when they had a few pence, and it was to be expected. 
Their lives were ones of unremitting toil, with little hope for advancement and prosperity.

The liquor, I knew, eased their troubled minds, and soothed their worries.

Naive as I was, it had not occurred to me that the nobility got drunk. I don't know why.

Perhaps I thought because their lives were so replete with all the wealth and goodness of 
the earth, they were immune to the effects of liquor, as they seemed to be immune to the 
ravages of all the disease that swept like an evil wind through the poor, decimating the towns 
and villages.

Perhaps I thought because they were so wealthy and gifted beyond the common man, I 
supposed that they did not partake of alcohol.

But the duke was drunk, decidedly inebriated.

He pulled his prancing horse up short, and stared down at my tear-streaked face.

I approached the warm body of his horse, placing my hand unwittingly on the animal's 
trembling flanks and looked up at the man.

"Please, your highness, my grandmother and grandfather...!" I stopped, my tears strangling
my words, as I realized the horror of my grandparents' death, and in the telling of it, let it 
wash over me with grief.

"Well, what about your grandparents, chit?" the man sneered down at me. There was fire 
in his eyes, a flame built of the liquor, and the excitement of the chase. I was too innocent to 
see the other fire that raged there, although I became uncomfortable at his steady, 
penetrating gaze.

"They are dead," I wept, covering my eyes with my hands.

"So, they are dead," he said. "What do you want me to do about it? A few less peasants, 
means more food for the rest, and maybe they will be well-fed enough to do an honest day's 
labor!"

At that callous remark, his retinue laughed raucously. I looked at him, dumbfounded at his 
indifference.

I was still too young to equate the man who had run over my father, and sent two of his 
retainers to dump his body on my mother's doorstep, with the depth of indifference and 
cruelty I was experiencing.

"Please, help them."

The duke laughed uproariously. "They are beyond help, chit. Don't you know that the dead
need nothing?"

"They need to be buried!" I cried, feeling a childish anger rise in my breast at the man's 
coldness.

"They will provide food for the hawks and vultures!" the duke answered. His gaze was still 
devouring me. I clutched at my loose, shabby, but neat robes, very disturbed by the man's 
sneering, casual appraisal of my body.

I was young and strong. My back was straight, my limbs firm and well shaped. My 
burgeoning breasts were full and high, my waist long and tapering. I promised to be a tall 
woman. My hips were firm, my legs strong and well-shaped from the years of labor.

The duke looked back at two of the nobles who had moved up to just behind him.

"She's a comely peon, considering how loutish most of them are, don't you think Lord 
Harley?"

"True. There seems to be some form of intelligence, playing about those snapping eyes of 
hers."

The duke reached down, and swooped me up on his horse, throwing me over the saddle 
in front of him.

"Let us see just how comely she is!" the duke cried, kicking his horse into a gallop.

I struggled in the saddle, held down by the duke's strong arm. But my struggles were in 
vain.

We galloped many miles into the woods, to a large lodge, situated on the edge of a 
clearing.

Here the duke reined up his horse, and threw me off, dismounting after me. I had 
struggled to my feet, meaning to run away, but the duke grabbed me and roughly propelled 
me toward the door of the lodge.

Hurrying up from behind him, one of his retainers opened the door of the hunting lodge, 
and I was catapulted into the room. I fell on the hard, oaken floor.

To the duke, this was a simple cabin. To me, it was a palace. It was high-ceilinged, the 
heavy oaken beams gleaming with wax. There was a fireplace that was almost as big as the 
small kitchen where my mother and I cooked our meals.

The windows were diamond-pained, and glistened with the light which was roaring in the 
fireplace.

The walls were hung with rare tapestries. Scattered around the huge room was very 
comfortable, elegantly carved furniture.

Against one wall, jutting out, was a long mahogany refectory table.

The duke reached down, and pulled me up by the collar of my simple garment. With one 
wrenching motion, he ripped the garment from my body, leaving me totally naked and 
exposed to the lascivious glances of his retinue.

I blushed fiercely and lowered my eyes, striving with my hands to cover my nakedness 
against the lewd glance of the nobility who had captured me.

I had been well-trained in the duties of a housewife. I knew when I was married, that my 
maidenhead on my marriage night would go to this very duke.

It was said that he had fathered over a hundred children in the village. But it was also said 
of him that he was stingy, and never provided, as other dukes did, for his offspring.

But I was not married. Indeed, I wondered, poor as my condition was, how suitable I was 
for any marriage.

I now knew what this man intended.

"N-no!" I cried, forgetting even my nakedness, as I turned to run. I ran pell-mell into the 
burly arms of one of the dukes attendants, who shoved me back into the threatening circle of 
eyes, which probed my nakedness.

The duke approached me, and grasping me by one arm, he led me toward the long 
refectory table. He threw me on top of it.

"Get me thongs!" he cried. I struggled vainly against the duke's powerful body. While he 
held me down, one of his attendants spread-eagled me, tying my legs to the ornately carved 
legs of the table.

My flailing arms were pulled over my head, and my wrists were tied with thongs to the 
legs on the oppose end of the table.

While the men laughed, taking gruesome pleasure in my discomfiture, the duke untied the
leather thongs which held his leather riding britches together, releasing his massive manhood.

I gasped when I saw the size and length of it. It was a long, fleshy pole, dripping with gism.
It throbbed as he approached the altar where he intended to sacrifice my virginity to his 
priapic lust.

I cried out in vain, my cries of agony eliciting only laughter in response, as the duke 
grasped my slender, strong thighs with his hands, and placed his massive cock head at the 
entrance to my virginal tunnel.

I gasped when I felt the massive flesh pressing into my tiny little hole. It was inconceivable 
that that massive weapon could penetrate my tiny little twat.

How little I knew then.

My mouth opened wide, in a soundless scream, as the duke thrust forward, bucking his 
hips against my pinioned fragile loins.

I felt my virginal cleft parted violently, the pain so sharp that it sucked my voice from me. I 
had neither voice nor breath to cry out my pain, as I felt his massive dork brutally stretching 
the walls of my love hole for the first time in my life!

I felt the duke's huge prick thrusting inward, until he hit the delicate membrane which 
protected my virginity.

"Hah!" he cried, apparently delighted. "The common chit is still a virgin!"

There was a great shout of laughter in the magnificently appointed hall, as the duke 
purveyed this information to his cohorts.

I wished I could have died for shame at that moment. My body naked and open to their 
violating gaze, my pink and gleaming cunt slit pried open by the duke, I felt shamed, 
humiliated, degraded.

"Now, how did that beauty escape freshening?" one of the duke's retainers asked, his 
laughter still echoing through the hall.

"I don't know," the duke replied. "Perhaps she was waiting all this time for me to do the 
honors."

With that, the duke thrust roughly into me, piercing the delicate band of flesh which 
signaled my maidenhood.

I found my voice, as a great pain shot through me from the ruptured membrane. I felt my 
blood rushing from the lacerated flesh, covering the duke's raging manhood as it thrust 
inward until it was buried to the hilt in my wounded womanhood.

My scream reverberated in my ears, melding obscenely with the raucous laughter and 
applause of the duke's retinue, as they encouraged his vile deed.

I felt his heavy, hairy balls pressing against my ass, the wiry hairs covering his fleshy globes
tickling my tender, never-touched flesh.

My hands clenched into fists, as I fought against the raging pain which had taken 
possession of my body. The fire of an unequalled rage filled my young body, an anger such as
I had never felt before, that this beast of a man, with every good fortune attending him, 
should so callously violate my virginity, rip it from me as if it were nothing.

The duke tossed his head like a rutting stallion, and pulled his great fuck shaft out of my 
lacerated twat, and then thrust it in again.

My abraded, flaming flesh rebelled against the rough treatment it was receiving from the 
piercing lance of the duke's prick. It sent wave after wave of pain rushing through me until I 
became quite light-headed, and faint.

My ears rang with the battering I was receiving from the duke's fleshy ram. Again and 
again, he plunged into the depths of my violated quim, grunting like a rutting pig.

The insane pounding of the duke's cock in and out of my cunt went on forever, it seemed 
to me. My flaming face turned pale with exhaustion and pain, and the shame ebbed from me, 
as well as the wish to die.

All I wanted, as I lay pinned to that table, beneath the lurid gaze of the duke's followers, 
pierced repeatedly by his great male sword, was vengeance. Vengeance, and the power to 
effect my retaliation. And the object of my vengeful rage was none other than the duke 
himself!

His massive, muscular hips humped into me again and again, his huge dork rubbing 
against the walls of my cunt.

The friction of his fleshy stalk against my tight and still-bleeding cunt walls created a 
strange sensation in me. I felt my body go taut under his humping loins, my muscles 
quivering, my cunt turning warm. It seemed to melt with the heat which was rising in it.

I felt the duke's cock lurch wildly in my cunt. It seemed to become more inflamed itself, 
and then I felt the first geyser of his steaming load of come pouring into my lacerated love 
tunnel.

The thick wads of steaming, frothing come churned around inside my secret womanhood, 
and drooled down the walls of my fleshy cave, soothing the aching membranes of my twat.

Again and again, the duke thrust into me, depositing the great liquid load of his balls in 
my bruised inner flesh. And each geyser of scum which shot into me soothed my wounds, and
built the fever, until my cunt felt like a raging inferno of lust.

My nipples puckered with the unaccustomed delight of orgasm. I felt my pussy begin to 
convulse wildly, the muscles clutching against the hard-hammering cock of the duke, as he 
deposited his load of liquid lust deep into my raging womb.

And then he gasped. His body trembled slightly, and a great sweat poured from his face. I 
felt his cock shrivel in my cunt.

That, too, was a strange sensation, feeling that hard, hot rod become soft until it popped 
out of my tight, drooling fuck tunnel.

He stood up, and shoved his massive fleshy snake into his leathern britches, and smiled at 
his retainers. He waved his arm in a munificent gesture, at my pinioned body.

"Help yourself, gentlemen," he said. "Boy!" he cried, to a young retainer, "bring wine, lots 
of it!"

The boy disappeared through a door in the back of the great lodge, and reappeared, 
carrying two great skins filled with an amber liquid. He also brought great silver chalices, and 
passed them around.

As one of the duke's retainers approached me, I watched, almost blinded with pain, rage 
and humiliation, as the young servant poured golden liquid from one of the massive skins, 
into the silver cups held up by the duke and his men.

The man who had approached me, stepped between my spread-eagled legs. He reached 
down and fondled my burgeoning boobs, tweaking the puckered nipples.

The sensation created by his calloused hands on my tit-flesh shot in little pleasurable 
ripples through my body. My cunt melted with the heat that was again rising in my body.

He released his massive dork from the confines of his britches, and placed his drooling 
cock head at the entrance to my much-abused cunt.

I gasped, as I felt him thrust inward, his massive fuck hammer stretching wide the walls of 
my womanhood for the second time.

My woman flesh stung from the recent abrasions of the duke's cock. I winced under the 
impact of this man's cock, which was as large as the duke's.

I closed my eyes, and resigned myself to the impact of the man's cock as he pistoned his 
cock in and out of my tiny cunt. My cunt walls rippled around the fleshy invader, and soon, 
the pain was replaced with that ponderous, inexplicable, pleasure which had taken possession 
of my body when the duke had fucked me.

I moaned, tossing my head from side to side on the hard table, fighting against the 
pleasure, which caused me to surrender to the unspeakable act which was being performed 
on me.

But my trials were not over.

I was raped repeatedly by each one of the duke's men. The duke waived any further use of
my body.

"She has been used, the slut, and therefore is not worthy of my attention any more," he 
said, turning to pat a great hunting hound which was cavorting around his feet.

He sat and drank his wine, and watched, amused, while I was degraded again and again by
his men.

I watched him through pain-fogged eyes, and nurtured the great anger which had heated 
my body. After awhile, my thoughts devolved around one thing so intensely, as to almost 
deprive my body of any sensation.

And that one point was vengeance, pure and simple. I must teach this man the pain of 
humiliation. He who sat, so tall and unflawed, and handsome, in that great carved leather and 
mahogany chair, one long, muscular leg swung over the arm of it, watching a common 
peasant being violated, had no doubt never been hurt, never had his authority assailed, nor 
his will questioned, must bow to my will.

As I look back on it now, in the cold confines of my cell, I wonder that a young, peasant, 
not, indeed, unlettered as most, but ignorant of the ways of the world, could have entertained
such hubris, as to plan vengeance, to call my wrath, upon the head of a nobleman.

But such is the way of the world.

The stars were long up and traveling in the blue-black sky, when I was released.

One of the duke's retainers threw my shabby garment at me. I clutched it, almost 
gratefully, as a servant opened the door, and I was thrown out into the bitter cold night.

I landed in the snow, shivering, and hastily drew on my homespun gown, grateful for its 
meager covering, which hid my shame.

I got up, wanting to put as much distance between me and the duke and his men as 
possible. I staggered for I know not how long, falling often. Finally, I fell across the road. I 
struggled to rise, knowing that I could be run over by any horseman or coach which passed 
this way.

But the ravages of my long hours of confinement, and the brutal assault perpetrated on 
my body, had taken its toll.

I believe now that the only reason I survived that nightmarish night, was the rage which 
burned deep in my young, ravaged breast. I believe that the heat of that rage saved me from 
the depredations of the bitter cold which assaulted my ill-clad body, and lent strength to my 
tottering feet, as I made my way through the wood, seeking the village many miles beyond my
grandparents' house.

I was now exhausted. My body ached and I could feel a fever upon me. I lay, almost 
delirious, feeling the bitter wind in my raging fever as a gentle breeze soothing my brow. I lost
consciousness for awhile, and when I awoke, my limbs were stiff.

I felt the warmth of life leaving my body. I struggled vainly to sit up but I was spent, weak, 
almost delirious with the fever.

In the distance, muted by the snow, I could hear the clop-clop of hooves. I listened closely,
and tried to call out. The very effort weakened me even further, and I fell against the 
winter-hard earth again.

In my semi-conscious state I heard the hooves come closer. I knew it was not the 
long-legged gait of a horse. It was probably a dray horse or a mule or donkey.

The hooves clopped ever-closer, and then they stopped. Too weak even to lift my head, I 
felt hands on my body, felt my prone body turned over.

"Heavenly saints!" I heard a gruff, quavering voice whisper. " 'Tis a mere slip of a girl!"

I saw through almost sightless eyes, the wizened old face of a peasant. The man picked me
up in his arms and flung me over the back of the donkey he had been riding.

I lay, rocked gently by the undulating motions of the donkey, across his withers, until I saw
the light change, and knew that dawn was coming. We seemed to be ascending a steep rocky 
path.

The man stopped his donkey, and I heard the clanging of a brass bell. Then I heard a gate 
creaking on rusty iron hinges.

"Sister, I'm sorry to disturb you. I found this girl on the road, half-dead with cold. Can you 
take her in?"

"Of course. Sister Anice!"

I heard footsteps, and then my limp abused body was gently carried I know not where. I 
slipped into total oblivion.

Vaguely, through the long sickness that followed, I would come to myself long enough to 
hear my voice raging and wailing. I would see faces peering over to look into mine, feel firm 
but gentle hands restraining me, as I tossed and turned, fighting I know not what.

Finally, I came to one dark night. I looked around the room. It was a cell. At first, it struck 
terror in my heart, the cold stone walls, the bare room, equipped only with a bed, a chair and 
a table.

Over the table, casting weird shadows on the wall from the flickering candle, hung a 
crucifix. This allayed my fears. I realized I was in a convent.

My eyes rested at the foot of the narrow cot in which I was lying. There, a plump, 
rosy-faced nun sat, nodding, her white plump hands still tangled in the beads she had been 
telling.

Her face looked so cheerful and warm and friendly, that I sighed, rolled over, and fell 
asleep.

I awoke with the sun streaming in on the bed, and the white cover. The plump little nun 
was gone. Leaning over me was a stern-faced woman. Behind her I could see a white-haired 
man, obviously a doctor judging from his robes.

"Good morning," the woman said.

"Good morning, your ladyship," I responded, feeling my voice weak and quavering in my 
throat. I looked at her frowning, trying to focus my eyes, which were still hazy with the 
torturous illness I had undergone.

The doctor came forward, and took my hand, feeling for my pulse.

"The fever has broken, My Lady," he said, bowing deferentially to the older woman. "She 
should be fine. Leave her in bed, and see that she has plenty of liquids and rest.

"I shall return on the morning to purge her of whatever bile remains."

The nun bowed to the doctor, and escorted him to the door. Then she returned and sat in 
the chair which was now placed at the side of the cot.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Do not speak. Rest!" she ordered, sternly but not harshly. "You are in the convent of Our 
Lady of the Sea."

"Ahh!" I sighed. I knew the place. It was at the top of the cliffs, giving onto the ocean. It 
was many miles away from the village where I had grown up, but everyone talked of it.

Young girls, spoiled for marriage, were sent there, usually the very rich noblemen's 
daughters, who had been discovered to have known men before they were betrothed, also 
the younger daughters of poorer noblemen were sent here, because there was no dowry for 
them to be given in a suitable marriage.

It was famous for its teaching facilities, and the luxury of its life style, since the noblemen 
endowed the daughters they sent here, with as much comfort as they could, and of course it 
belonged to the order when they died.

Hence it was a very wealthy priory.

I wondered at the journey I had taken! I must have traveled many miles out of my way that
wild, delirious night.

"I am Lady Leticia," the nun said. "I am the abbess of this convent."

"I am Annette de Bruyere," I said weakly.

"Shhh," the abbess said, with a hint of a smile on her face. "I know who you are, and how 
you arrived here. You told us all in your fever."

I threw my thin, weakened arms over my face for shame, and began to weep.

"Hush," the woman commanded. "Do not disturb yourself with the tragedy that has 
happened to you. Get well. Then we shall see, what we can do for you."

I looked at the woman gratefully. She passed her hand over my forehead, and closed my 
eyes. I turned my face to the wall and slept some more.

I was awakened by the plump little nun later in the day. I looked out of the window', and 
watched the light of the sun, which was low on the horizon. I had slept the day away.

The little nun's face was dimpled as she smiled at me.

"Feeling better?" she asked. She helped me to sit up, and drink from a silver goblet, such 
as the ones I had seen at the duke's lodge. It was a rich, highly spiced mulled wine. It warmed 
me and seemed to give me strength.

It was my first draught of liquor, and I found the effects to be heady and beneficial. I felt 
blood rush to my face as I finished off the wine.

"Thank you," I whispered.

The nun laid me down, and tucked the covers over me. "Rest," she said, patting my 
shoulder. "In the morning you will feel better. I am Sister Genevieve," she said, and then she 
giggled. "Most everyone calls me Jenny, though."

I smiled at her, deciding that I liked her. "I'm Annette," I said.

"Yes, I know," the little nun said, picking up her beads, and ticking them off in her hand.

"What did I say when I was delirious?" I asked.

"Oh, much, much! We were all properly horrified. But then, My Lord Wyndham is known 
for his debauched lifestyle. I'm here because of him," she finished, her dimples showing as she
tried to suppress a grin.

"You are?" I asked, trying to raise myself.

"Oh, please, don't disturb yourself," plump little nun exclaimed. "Please rest. I shall tell you 
the story when you are better. It isn't as horrendous as yours, although my father wouldn't 
admit to that. But I shall tell you a story...!"

Her little singing voice faded off, as she seemed to get lost in her reveries. I fell asleep 
again, awakening in the morning much refreshed.

The doctor was there, with the abbess, and I suddenly realized with a start, that he had 
said he would purge me.

My little heart danced in my breast, as I thought of the shame of exposing my secret parts 
once again to a man's gaze.

And the fact that the abbess was here to be witness to the act did not help my shame one 
bit!

The abbess pulled back the covers, and I realized how wasted my body was from my long 
illness.

"The doctor is going to purge you, Annette," the prioress said. She brought a stool, and a 
great pewter chamber pot and placed them beside the bed.

"You lean over this," she said, assisting me to my feet. I blushed for shame as I thought of 
the position in which I was going to be placed. The nun leaned me over the stool, and raised 
the cambric gown I was clothed in.

I hid my blushing face, as the doctor approached. He had a big goatskin bag, filled with 
liquid. From the bag a great piece of tubing descended, and at the end of the tubing, was a 
bulbous glass affair.

He parted my ass cheeks, and I felt the cold kiss of the glass against my ass.

At that moment, I think I would have rather been exposed to the lurid gaze of the duke's 
men. And in my spent brain, I couldn't decide what was more humiliating!

The doctor inserted the glass bulb, and then released the tube, which held the liquid 
contents of the bag back. I felt the liquid rushing into my asshole.

It was hot, but not uncomfortably so. I felt the warm liquid rushing into my bowels. I felt as
if my bowels were bloated and distended, as the contents flowed in.

Uncomfortable as that made me, I was even more shamefully aware of my exposed 
posterior, my rounded ass cheeks exposed to the gaze of the doctor. I dared not look to see 
what the sight was doing to him.

I did not want to encounter a look of lust from a man, at least not when I was helpless, and
subject to the whim of the man!

Finally, the contents of the bag were emptied into my ass hole.

"Very well, now sit down, and wait," the doctor ordered.

I got up off the stool over which the abbess had bent me, and sat down on it. I felt the 
liquid burbling in my guts, rolling warmly through my belly.

"Now, you must hold it until you cannot bear it anymore," the doctor said, taking my pulse
as he spoke. I refrained from looking at him, since I was embarrassed.

"I have placed herbs and healing medicines in the clyster bag, and I want them to take 
effect."

I sat there, my eyes lowered, feeling the pressure building in my bowels. The pressure was 
also affecting my cunt. I could feel the warmth rolling through my guts permeating my cunt, 
causing it to melt, as it had so errantly when the duke had raped me.

This reaction puzzled me. I did not will it. It just happened. I could feel my juices rolling out
of my love tunnel, and wondered at the perversity of my womanhood, that I could not control 
the reaction.

I squirmed in my seat, more uncomfortable with the itching in my pussy than with the 
pressure in my gut.

"Be patient," the abbess said, misinterpreting my squirming as the need to purge myself of
the liquid load which was rolling through my belly.

I was very grateful for her innocence! But in my mind came unbidden, the same sensations
which had rolled through me as I climaxed under the duke's pounding cock. I sat under the 
impersonal gaze of the doctor, and the abbess, and relived my rape at the hands of the 
debauched duke.

My pussy muscles contracted wildly, as the pressure increased. I restrained the impulse to 
squirm, and waited, concentrating on my errant cunt, and the lustful heat that was pulsing in 
its secret depths.

My stomach began to growl, protesting its unnatural burden. My impatience, as I began to
squirm had little to do, I must confess, with the enema I had been dosed with.

It had more to do with the demanding itch in my cunt. I squirmed again, surreptitiously, 
seeking to find ways to relieve the pressure in my cunt. The itch was maddening!

"Wait a while longer," the doctor ordered, noticing my squirming body. Again I lowered 
my eyes, and sighed. I folded my hands in a gesture of obedience on my lap, pressing my 
wasted fingers into my crotch, hoping to find release for the torment in my cunt in that 
manner.

But I couldn't reach in far enough, nor did I dare go further, for fear that the abbess and 
the doctor would divine my intent.

Finally, I looked up. The abbess nodded and smiled.

"Very good," the doctor said. "You may relieve yourself."

The chamber pot had been placed behind an ornately carved screen. I went behind the 
screen, and lifted my cambric gown and sat down on the pot.

As soon as I had sat, my hands sought my tingling clitoris. I rubbed my finger furiously 
over the inflamed little love button, as the contents of the enema started to stream from my 
asshole.

The combination of my finger on my clitoris, and the enormous release of pressure on my 
gut, brought on a resounding orgasm, more violent than the ones I had suffered against my 
will, when the duke and his cohorts had raped me.

My little ass bounced up and down on the chamber pot, as wave after wave of the enema 
washed from my ass hole, and wave after wave of cunt cream .poured from my convulsing 
little cunt.

My pussy tingled furiously as the last of the orgasm spread through me, leaving a warm 
afterglow that mixed somehow with the warm relief of the purging. I saw the abbess's hand 
reaching over the top of the screen.

She had a linen cloth in her hand, which was moist with warm water. I took the cloth, and 
wiped my sweating face first, and then wiped my bottom clean of the residue of the enema, 
and my orgasm.

My pussy was still drooling with the thick syrup of my passion juices. I felt marvelous!

I came from behind the screen, and the abbess tucked me back in bed.

"You will feel much better, now," the doctor said, again checking my pulse. "You may get 
up for a few hours a day, until you feel stronger. Don't place any excessive strain on her for a 
week or so, My Lady, until she has recovered her strength, and see that she has lots of rich 
foods, to build up her weight and strength."

"Yes, Doctor," the Abbess said, leaving the room with the doctor. A nun came in and 
removed the chamber pot which I had covered with the cloth.

And then I was left in solitude, to examine my womanhood, to find again the delicious 
impulses which had coursed through my body while I was being purged.

I found them quickly enough, and spent the day partially delirious with my sexual 
transports of pleasure.

The time passed pleasantly, and quickly.





CHAPTER TWO


The next several weeks passed peacefully. If the cells of the nuns were bare, nay, even stark, 
the public rooms on the first floor were luxurious.

I had never seen such ornate elegance in my life, nor, in my poverty had I ever conceived 
of such beauty.

The library was filled with many manuscripts and books. The dining hall was gorgeous, and
the food most dainty.

I felt as if I were living the life of a lady, as indeed I was, even if the wealth were shared, it 
was there to be had.

The gardens of the convent, even in the late winter, were lovely to walk in and enjoy the 
late winter sunshine.

Very slowly, I regained my strength. My body started to fill out again. I felt stronger, and I 
certainly felt at peace. The hours were regular, the regimen strict, but not repressive. There 
was ample opportunity for every recreation, and that included the secret pastime I had 
developed of giving myself pleasure at every opportunity.

It was as if that horrendous night had opened the floodgates for the tide of my 
womanhood.

It descended upon me powerfully, and my ripe cunt and flowering body demanded 
release.

After the second week, I asked if it were possible to examine the books in the library.

Lady Leticia, who was indeed a lady, the sixth daughter of a count, smiled.

"You will find manuscripts with fine illuminations," she said, "but if you are restless or 
bored, perhaps we can find occupations more suited to your intellect."

"But I would be pleased to help with the chores, Lady Leticia," I said. "However, my mind 
has been empty and devoid of stimulation, and I desire to learn."

"Ahh! Can you read?" she asked.

"Yes, My Lady," I said, looking at her puzzled.

"She can read?" Mother Sybil exclaimed. Mother Sybil was next in command in the priory, 
the reader during meals, who read from the scriptures and various inspirational texts.

"Yes, My Lady," I said, wondering at their surprise.

"We are surprised," Lady Leticia said. "How did a little peasant girl command the art of 
reading, when only three women in this convent, all from the nobility, can read? Can you 
write, too?"

"Yes, My Lady. The girls of our town learn at the church school. We learn to read and write 
and count."

"Count! You can count, too?" Mother Sybil exclaimed, looking up with great wonder on her
face.

"My Ladies," I said, distressed with their wonder, "A farmer's wife must keep accounts, and 
do the marketing, and sell the goods. She must know how to figure, and write up stock 
inventories, and keep the books. It is a necessary part of her education."

"Why, land sakes, child. I never thought of that! Noblemen's daughters would never have 
to learn such things, and of course, I never thought of it, but my father's stewards, and his 
chatelaines always did keep the books, and tally the records!" exclaimed Lady Leticia.

"But Mother Sybil," I exclaimed, "you can read."

"Ahh, but my child, I am an anomaly. I was tutored with my brothers at my father's 
behest."

"Oh, I see."

I stood there, wondering. I was learning more and more about the nobility every day. The 
patina of wonder attaching to them because of their great distance from the peasants, was 
slowly receding before the knowledge of how they lived.

"Oh, of course you may use the library," Lady Leticia said, smiling. "Perhaps you would like 
to assist Mother Sybil to read lessons during mealtime?"

"I would be happy to, My Lady," I exclaimed. "I would like to do something to earn my 
keep while I am here."

"My child, do not worry about your keep. You are gentle and tractable enough, and we are
happy to do the Lord's work by helping his troubled children."

"Lady Leticia, Mother Elaine is growing old and feeble. Perhaps she could help her with the
marketing."

"Ahh, yes, that would indeed solve a problem," Lady Leticia said, smiling at me.

"You run along, child. Take what you will from the library. I will trust you to treat the 
manuscripts with great care. They are a great portion of the wealth of this convent. And also 
see Mother Elaine in the kitchen. Tell her that you have come to be her good right hand. She 
will welcome the assistance, as shall we."

At the door of the abbess's office I turned suddenly, still puzzled.

"Lady Leticia, may I ask a question?"

"Please, child," the woman said.

"If you cannot read nor write, who writes your letters?"

"Scriveners," Lady Leticia said. "We dictate to learned men who are at our service for a fee."

"And how do you acquire your great knowledge of the world, and the great works of 
literature."

"Scriveners, and through the services of servants who have mastered the art of reading, 
and read to us while we embroider and do other fancy work with our hands."

I cocked my head to one side. "Oh!" I exclaimed.

Mother Sybil laughed. "Go along with you. I see we have a lot to learn about each other, 
and you shall be doing yeoman's service with your talent soon enough, when the word gets 
around that you can read. You will be lucky if you leave here with a voice, and I for one, shall 
be glad for assistance in the chore!"

And so a whole new life began for me. Mother Elaine, the daughter of an impoverished 
duke, was the other nun in the convent who could read. It was she who did the marketing and
kept the accounts.

She was indeed old and feeble, but cheerful and pleasant to work with. She welcomed my 
assistance, and put me to work immediately.

I was still too weak to make the trip to town, but I helped her with her account books for 
some of the morning. Her eyesight was failing, and she found it difficult to read.

Word did indeed get around about my talent, which to these gentlewomen, was 
marvelous. How strange, I thought, to think I was so impoverished and ignorant, when the 
nobility got such fine educations. It had never occurred to me that I would be a gold mine 
because I could read and write!

I was put to use immediately, and spent many delightful hours, reading the letters these 
women received from friends and relatives all over the world.

I learned the wonders of foreign countries, the delightful, and frequently titillating gossip 
from various courts around the world. I read great books of poetry, great tomes of science to 
all and sundry who would put me to use.

I was busy from morning until night.

Lady Leticia herself had a pile of letters waiting to be read to her! And I reveled in the 
doors that were opened to me, as I learned about this strange new world, where want did not 
exist, where privilege was assumed, and where old age was never feared because there was 
always money or means somewhere for comfort.

And I wrote until my poor little hand was tired and sore, so eager were these women to 
respond to those in the outside world whom they knew.

One day, Lady Leticia called me into her private study.

"Yes, Lady Leticia?" I said, as I stood inside her door.

"Come in, child. Sit down. I want to talk to you."

I sat in the ornately carved chair she pointed out to me.

"You are happy here?" she asked.

I smiled and nodded. The weeks had repaired the damage done to me by the duke's ill use
of me, and the illness which had followed it. I had filled out, and I could feel my old 
accustomed good health and energy coursing through my young body.

"Would you like to stay here?" the woman asked.

My eyes opened wide. "Here?" I asked, not believing my good fortune. "With all of you?"

Lady Leticia smiled. "We have need of you, if you wish to join our community," she said. 
"You are quick to learn, and you are much loved for your sweetness and peaceable 
disposition. You are quick to obey, and you work well with your fellow sisters.

"If you wish to remain here, you would be most welcome, if for no other reason than 
because we need your services as an accountant and scrivener. I assure you that your talents 
will give you quite a command of this priory. You may even find yourself at the head of a 
priory yourself some day. And that is, I assure you, a comfortable existence, as well as a 
rewarding one."

I nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak.

"Good. You will don the habit and be one of us," the nun said, rising.

That evening, Lady Jenny brought me the robes I would wear, starting in the morning.

She sat on my narrow cot, and smiled at me, her adorable dimples playing on her plump 
cheeks.

"You needn't think because you don the habit that you have given up the world for good. 
This isn't a strict order like the Benedictines, or the Franciscans, who take vows."

Lady Jenny giggled. "As a matter of fact, we seldom see a priest. Since we're not a formal 
order, we have services and all that, and get visited by priests who are traveling this way, but 
there's plenty of time and opportunity to pursue... other things."

Again she giggled.

"Like what things, Lady Jenny?" I asked.

"Oh, like the pleasures of the flesh." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

My face flushed with what she was suggesting.

"Even My Lord Wyndham comes a-calling occasionally," Lady Jenny said. At the sound of 
his detested name, I felt my gorge rise. I swallowed my bile, and gazed blandly at the lovely 
little nun.

I felt the old determination rise in me to seek vengeance for the wrong the man had done 
me, for the spoiled life and hopes he had inflicted on me. I had since heard other evil stories 
about the debauched noblemen, and every mention of his name curdled my blood, and fed 
the fires of my rage.

"And then, there are the townsmen, when you get to town. Occasionally, they come 
visiting here, too. Lady Solere has a lover from town, who crawls over the convent walls at 
least once a week."

I was astounded at the revelations that Lady Jenny was making to me! I thought that nuns 
were doomed to a life of chastity! Since I had no hopes of marriage, I had promised to take 
the veil, but Lady Jenny was opening my eyes still further, allowing me to peer into another 
secret crevice of this life, which far from being simple, was appearing to me in all its 
complications.

"Since you are to become one of us, I can tell you now," Lady Jenny said.

I suddenly remembered that Lady Jenny had promised to tell me about the manner in 
which Lord Wyndham had been responsible for her being put into the convent.

"You promised to tell me one day about your encounter with My Lord Wyndham," I said.

Lady Jenny got up from the bed, and went to the narrow, arched window.

"You can see his castle from here," she said. I went to the window, and looked through it. I 
could see the scattered farms and in the distance, the clumped houses, and the wall of the 
local village, the spire of the church dominating the cluster of houses. From the chimneys in 
the golden twilight, came the warm white clouds of smoke, as people busily prepared their 
evening meal, and relaxed around their hearths.

My eyes traveled from the town to the heavily wooded area. Lost somewhere in that sea of
trees, was my village. My eye traveled to the skyline, and rose with the mountain beyond the 
fringe of forest.

And then I saw it! I had never looked for it before, not thinking it was visible, but there in 
the distance, rising like a stone phallus stood the great towers of the duke's castle.

The setting sun bathed the white stone of which it was made, with a golden glow. It 
flashed off the window panes in little golden sparkles, like tinsel on a clown at a street fair.

It looked incomparably lovely, like a castle in some of the fairy tales that Tante Lisa used to
tell me.

It was as if that lovely sight solidified my determination to seek vengeance, and Lady Jenny
could be an avenue to that much longed-for goal.

Lady Jenny continued, her sweet, lisping voice conveying the information I wanted.

"They say his wife, who has been barren since they were married, has just conceived and is 
to deliver in December. They say that the duke is most happy. He has wanted a son for a long 
time."

"Oh? How is it that a man who is married has time to debauch himself among innocent 
peasants."

"Oh, it is the right of nobles to do as they wish with peasants. Peasants don't count... oh!"

Lady Jenny brought her hand to her mouth. She had been talking to be as an equal, and 
yet aeons of established custom separated her from me.

I smiled at her, and patted her lovely white shoulder. "It's all right, Lady Jenny. Do not 
disturb yourself. Please continue with your story."

Lady Jenny, still blushing, turned again to the window.

"They say that My Lady Wyndham came from Germany with a great dowery, to enhance 
the wealth of the duke," she said.

"Why do noblewomen have to have dowries?" I asked.

"Don't peasant women have to have dowries?" Lady Jenny asked.

"Our dowries are the housekeeping talents we learn. Some of the wealthier farms give 
dowries. One of the girls who went to our church school went to her husband with two cows 
and a pig," I said.

Lady Jenny raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realize that yeomen could collect such wealth. 
That is a considerable portion."

"The man acquired great wealth," I said.

"He purchased his freedom, and then he purchased his farm. He was a fine farmer. She, it 
is said, is a fine farmer's daughter."

"Ahh...!"

"Why is it, if you do not object to the question, Lady Jenny, that you did not get married. 
You are bonny and fine, and you have a fine upbringing."

Lady Jenny smiled at me.

"I could have gotten married, to one of the lesser landed gentry in my village, but I spoiled
myself for marriage. My Lord Wyndham and I... "

Lady Jenny's eyes traveled to the castle gleaming white and gold in the distance.

"Oh... ! That is such an impediment?"

"Is it not among the peasants?" Lady Jenny asked.

"No," I said, getting titillated by this talk, and feeling my cuntal juices beginning to run 
down my thighs. "That is, it's not supposed to be done before marriage, but with a duke's first 
night rights, most girls don't take it seriously, or else, they sleep with their fiances before they 
marry, so that he has the privilege of copping their cherries. But there are always men who are
willing to marry deflowered girls, if they are good, and talented, and not too promiscuous, it 
wouldn't do to marry a woman who ran away with the first passing peddler or street clown!" I 
exclaimed.

Lady Jenny laughed, and then she sighed. "Perhaps it is easier to live as a woman if you are
a peasant," she said.

Now it was my turn to laugh.

"I have always thought it was easier to live as a noblewoman, to have such wealth, to be 
able to do exactly as you please!"

"Oh, but Annette, this is not true! We cannot do as we please, not from the moment we 
are born! I remember watching young farmers sons and daughters, playing and running in a 
field one day during harvest, and even though a tan is considered vulgar, and these children 
were bare-headed and tanned, and bare-footed, and even though their clothes were shabby, I
envied them.

"Oh, my clothes were always splendid, and I rode in a great coach with the family coat of 
arms on it, and I was cosseted, and treated nicely, and paraded about, but after awhile, oh, 
Annette, I could have died of ennui!" Lady Jenny clasped her hands together, and then gazed 
at me.

"And you--you can read any time you want. If I get a letter, I have to wait until I can find 
someone to read it to me. It might be nice to have servants at your beck and call, but, well, it 
would be nice to do things for yourself for a change."

Our conversation was an education to me. I hadn't realized that there were burdens 
attendant on wealth!

"And then," she said, thoughtfully, her gaze again riveted to the fast fading castle, as night 
closed in upon us, "you are forgiven your sins so much more easily. If you make a mistake, and
get caught in the arms of a man, your worth is more than your maidenhead. Your men seem 
to value you more for what you can do. Our men seem to consider us as part of their personal
property, of value only insofar as they can claim us as their own! And that means that there 
must be blood on the sheets the morning after our weddings."

I walked up to Lady Jenny, and put my arms around her lovely, plump white shoulders.

She looked into my eyes.

"Poor Lady Jenny!" I exclaimed, sincerely pitying her. I realized what I had said, and backed
away from her, abashed.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," I said, blushing.

It was Lady Jenny's turn to put her arms around my shoulders. She kissed me soundly on 
the cheek, as the crystal bell sounded through the hall, signalling dinner.

"You are one of us now. You shall be my best friend. We shall tell each other everything, 
oh, there shall be no secrets between us. Do you agree?"

"I agree," I smiled, glad to have her friendship, and not forgetting for one moment, my 
object of vengeance.

My Lord Wyndham must be checked in his debauched path, and I wanted to do it!

We went to supper. I was to read the lesson for the evening. Although there was much 
opportunity for companionship and talk, talking was strictly forbidden before Matins and after
Vespers.

All talk was strictly forbidden during mealtimes, which we ate in silence.

The reader always ate alone, after the meal was finished, waited on by whoever was doing 
the serving of the meals for the week.

The chores were apportioned, I must admit, rather democratically, the only one exempt 
from menial tasks being Lady Leticia herself, who was abbess.

I had been told by everyone that I read beautifully. I had been strictly trained by the village
priest, who insisted that we finish one lesson with complete mastery of it before we learned 
another, and I discovered that I was, compared to the other two readers in the convent, very 
fluent.

Of course, the hours I spent poring over the manuscripts from the library, and reading the 
missives of the nuns, had also polished my ability to read.

And my writing! I had written so much, that I had developed a very fine script, most 
distinct, and graceful, which the nuns commented upon most favorably.

The lesson the abbess had picked for the evening was from St. Paul. St. Paul is not one of 
my more favorite apostles, I think because he inveighs against women so much.

But I read him as sincerely as I knew how, my voice the only sound in the room, with the 
exception of an occasional chink of silver against china.

When I had finished my reading, I was served my own supper. I had observed the manners
of the ladies of the convent carefully, and imitated them, so that my table manners were the 
same as theirs. I was pleased with this talent, although at one time, I would have considered it 
a superficial one and of no value.

When I had finished dinner, I went to the Compline service, after which we were all free to 
socialize as we pleased until Vespers, at which time silence was to reign in the great halls of 
the priory until after morning services.

Lady Solere was accomplished on the dulcimer, which was a sweet-sounding instrument.

She had approached me one evening asking if I would teach her to read.

"Oh, gladly, Lady Solere."

"And what would you like in exchange?" she asked.

"I? Why nothing, Lady Solere. I am happy to share whatever little I have with all of you."

"My dear," the great lady said, smiling at me, "you are most generous. Do not be too hasty
to demean your intellectual gifts. If you think of anything I can do for you, please do not 
hesitate to ask me."

Several nights later, I had heard her playing and singing. I was enthralled. I had been 
reading some verses to a group of nuns who were embroidering, and I faltered in my reading, 
to catch the sweet, sweet sounds I was hearing.

Mother Sybil laughed, and turned to Lady Solere.

"Me things, Lady Solere, that little Annette is enchanted with your musical gifts."

Lady Solere looked at me, and smiled. Her playing seemed to get louder and sweeter, as I 
continued to read, trying to match the cadences of the poetry to the rise and fall of her music.

When we were all filing to Vespers that evening, she approached me.

"Would you, perhaps, like to learn to play the dulcimer?"

I looked at her, thoroughly enchanted with the idea. I clasped my hands with joy.

"Oh, Lady Solere, do you think a rough peasant girl could learn to play such a lovely 
instrument?"

Lady Solere had smiled. "If a noblewoman can learn to read, I am quite sure a peasant girl 
can learn to play the dulcimer," she said.

I was to have a lesson that evening on the dulcimer. I had already learned two songs, and 
it pleased me to play them. She was now teaching me a third, more difficult song.

Mother Sybil was reading a new novel from a foreign author, which had just been 
translated. The crystal bell rang in the midst of our happy pursuits, and it was time for Vespers,
and then silence, and the sweet sleep of those who have no worries, nor any care beyond that 
of the day.

As I wended my way to my cell that evening, full of happiness, feeling safe and secure, I 
didn't realize that there would be precious little sleep for me that evening, and that I would be
started upon the course that would earn for me the awful sobriquet of "The Devil's Nun."





CHAPTER THREE


I bathed in my cell and donned my soft cambric nightgown, and, blowing out my candle, I 
went to look out my cell window.

There was no moon that night, so the countryside beneath the convent, situated high on a
plateau, was lost to my vision.

I gazed at the stars, twinkling in the cold black sky for a moment, and then curled up in my
hard bed.

The regular hours, the good food, the peace of mind, the feeling of being needed and 
wanted, had done wonders for my constitution and my mind.

I could have slept on a cement slab if I chose to! Almost as soon as my head touched the 
hard, solitary pillow on my bed, I was lost in a sweet sleep.

I was awakened with a start, by someone shaking me. I started up from my pillow, but 
there was a soft hand on my mouth, stifling my outcry of surprise.

A candle was held high, and I recognized Lady Jenny. She was clad in a soft woolen cloak 
over her white nightgown, and there were soft woolen boots on her feet.

She put a finger to her mouth, and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I know," she whispered, "that now that you are one of us, you will be loyal, and keep the 
secrets of this convent. Would you like to come with me, to see what happens in the night?"

I nodded my head, awed. What secrets was she going to reveal to me now. Lady Jenny's 
cheeks dimpled as she grinned a most naughty grin. Her eyes sparkled. She handed me my 
woolen cloak, and helped me to put on my soft woolen boots.

The cells had no fireplaces, and were therefore cold, as were most of the upper halls, 
although the bottom floors had fires going perpetually in the great fireplaces. The woolen 
boots, lined with down, and the cloaks were necessary appurtenances during the winter, and 
frequently during the summer also, on the cool nights when the wind penetrated the 
casements.

"Lady Solere," Lady Jenny said, providing me with some background to the horrors I was 
about to witness, and would soon partake in, "always punishes her lover for his carnal sins. He 
has visited her this evening. He even serviced Mother Eustacia as well as herself, and they are 
now punishing him."

I was puzzled, as we wended our way down the stone stairways, past the main floor to the 
series of cellars beneath the convent.

These cellars were so labyrinthine, that I, now truly a full-fledged assistant to Mother Elaine
in the marketing and storing and inventory-keeping, was still not familiar with all of them. 
They covered several levels in the stony plateau on which the convent was situated. I was 
familiar with some of the chambers through which Lady Jenny escorted me: the root cellar, 
where the mushrooms and radishes were grown, and the chives and herbs; the wine cellars 
filled with flask upon flask of rare old vintages; the storage cellars where the produce was 
kept, every item of which I knew practically by heart; the cellar where the harnesses and 
farming tools were stored; the cellar where the preserved fruits and vegetables were stored.

After that, I was in strange territory. Lady Jenny led me past corridors dripping with the 
earth's moisture, dank and dark. We passed a chamber with great indentations in the walls.

"What is this room?" I asked, hearing my whisper echo eerily through the chamber.

"This is the burial chamber," Lady Jenny said, pointing to the plaques which hung over the 
recesses.

I looked at the names, some of them with dates from hundreds of years before.

"Is this where the nuns are buried?" I asked.

"Only some of them. Many of us, our families claim us when we die, and we are buried in 
our family vaults. Many of these are women who have been disowned, or who have done 
things so terrible, that no one wants to acknowledge that they were ever alive.

"This is the name of a queen!" I whispered, excited.

"Oh, yes, the woman who betrayed her husband, and caused the downfall of France two 
centuries ago. I forget her name," said Lady Jenny, grinning at me.

"I was always an indifferent scholar," she confessed. "But I remember someone saying of 
her that she fucked a goat once!"

My jaw dropped. I was familiar with history, but I had never heard that fact about the 
much-maligned woman. I promised myself to look into the archives of the convent and 
discover what I could of its history.

The next three chambers on our course, which seemed to be always downward, were also 
burial chambers, each one signalling by some variation in style, a greater age.

I was frightened, and fascinated at the same time.

Finally, we reached a chamber at a great subterranean depth. There was a great oaken 
door set into the stone walls, with great brass hinges.

Lady Jenny put her finger to her mouth, cautioning silence, and pushed gently on the 
door. It gave easily, indicating much usage, and some care in the oiling of the great hinges.

The door opened onto a great vaulted chamber whose exact age must be lost in antiquity.
I have never found a record of the chamber's existence in the annals of the convent, nor can I 
place the date of it.

It was massive, and seemed to fade in the distance, as features on a landscape fade in the 
distance, when you are on a great plain looking outward. And it was incredibly high, its vaults 
disappearing into the darkness above me.

On one wall, to the left of me, was a monstrous fireplace, which was blazing. In front of 
this fireplace was a great stone block which must have weighed tons.

My gaze became riveted to this block. Spread-eagled upon it was a great bull of a man, of 
yeoman's proportions, deep and full through the chest, long and flat of belly, his arms and 
legs strongly muscled.

His body was covered thickly with black hair, which also covered his head in a thick, 
luxuriant mane.

His wrists and ankles were bound to the great stone block by iron manacles.

Dancing around him, nude, their dance lascivious, their very manner that of succubi, great 
female demons out to capture a man's soul, were Lady Solere and Mother Eustacia.

No one knew why Lady Solere was in the convent, although it was rumored that she had 
been put away for some great dark, unmentionable incident in her life.

Mother Eustacia was a gentlewoman from good family, who apparently had been caught 
at some unspeakable carnal act. No one would mention what it was.

The two women had magnificent bodies, as most of the nuns in the convent had. The 
regular hours, the good food, the reasonable apportionment of manual labor kept all of us fit 
and healthy.

Their breasts jiggled and danced with their lascivious movements. Both of them were 
wearing great, steel-studded leather belts, such as are worn by soldiers of the king, around 
their slender waists. There were leather anklets, also steel-studded on their legs, and bracelets 
of the same kind on their wrists.

This was all the clothing they wore. In the hands of both of them were long, lethal-looking 
leather whips, and as they danced, their hips undulating suggestively in and out, in a 
copulatory movement, they would land vicious blows on the body of the bound man.

Each time a blow would land on his body, now covered with livid red welts, which showed 
through the hair covering his massive body, his muscles would ripple and his corded tendons 
would show clearly.

As I watched, I suddenly realized that his huge cock, larger than anything I had ever seen, 
granting my limited, but still somewhat extensive experience with the duke and his retinue, 
was fully erect. It bobbed with his spastic motions, each time he was struck with the whips 
held by the merciless woman.

I watched the scene, hypnotized as a bird is by a preying snake, watched each motion 
unfold before me, as if in a lurid dream.

And as I watched, my cuntal juices flowed. I felt my pussy lips flower to ripeness, moist and
full and throbbing with a perverse passion, as the two naked nuns danced their obscene 
dance, and took their vicious pleasure of the captive man.

"You are lustful and evil," Lady Solere intoned, striking the man's belly.

"Ahhhh!" the man cried, his anguished voice echoing through the vaulted chamber. His 
body stiffened under the impact of the blow.

The room was so constructed that every sound came to our ears clearly. Lady Jenny, I 
noticed, had placed her candle carefully against one wall, away from the door through which 
we were staring.

As I watched, Mother Eustacia circled around to the man's face, which was twisted in 
agony. She got up on the stone block, on her knees, and worked herself over the man's face, 
straddling it, until her swollen pussy-lips, which gleamed redly and luridly in the firelight, was 
directly over the man's mouth.

"Eat it!" she commanded, her voice a lewd chant. She started to lower herself over the 
man's mouth.

I watched, feeling my own cunt twitch at the obscene vision passing before my eyes. The 
man's tongue flicked out, the red of his oral muscle matching the inflamed redness of Mother 
Eustacia's cunt meat.

I had never even conceived of such a thing as a man's mouth on a woman's privates, but 
as I watched I considered the possibilities for pleasure of such an action. They seemed to be 
limitless.

Mother Eustacia was now sitting almost squarely on the man's face, her hips rocking back 
and forth over his mouth.

Coming to me clearly through the vaulted chamber I could hear wet licking sounds, which 
were like physical blows to my belly, which was now a riot of lust.

I looked at Lady Jenny. Her chest heaved with her labored breathing which she was trying 
to check. I saw her pink tongue flick out to lick her lips. She swallowed hard.

So! I thought to myself, it is affecting her the same way. I lost some of my shame for the 
riot of lustful emotions which had taken possession of my body.

Lady Solere was still dancing around the man's body, flicking her heavy whip at the man's 
welted flesh.

She stopped at the foot of the stone block, where the man's feet were pinned to the stone.

I watched as she mounted the stone block, her soft white flesh gleaming in the lurid light 
from the fire. Her full, pendulous breasts jiggled with her movements, as she worked herself, 
on her knees, up to the man's burgeoning groin.

I swallowed hard as Lady Solere, slowly lowered herself on the man's massive prick.

"Ahh, wonderful!" she gasped, throwing her head back, as she worked her way downward. 
I watched, fascinated, as the man's cock slowly disappeared into the woman's cunt. The man's 
cock had completely disappeared, and all that was visible was his torso.

His head was buried in Mother Eustacia's apex of pleasure. She was rocking back and forth
rhythmically, her motions becoming more and more frenzied as the man's mouth drove her 
passion higher and higher.

I saw Lady,. Solere's buttocks start to jiggle as she moved up and down. Rhythmically, she 
bounced up and down the man's cock. I watched the massive ramrod appear momentarily, 
gleaming with the lady's juices, and then disappear, as the lady's buttocks slammed down 
onto her haunches, as her greedy cunt sucked in all of the mammoth prick of the man.

My own pussy was screaming for relief at this point, and judging from the raspy breathing 
of the Lady Jenny standing beside me, her cunt must have been just as inflamed.

We watched, fascinated as the two women rode the poor man to monumental orgasms. 
They signaled the onslaught of their climaxes by cries and groans. Their bodies moved with 
more frenzied motions, their flesh jiggling wildly as they bounced up and down, and rocked 
back and forth on the helpless man, taking their pleasure of him, instead of hoping for 
pleasure from his use of him.

As I watched, I suddenly realized that a woman may have power over a man; that she need
not be the perpetual victim.

These women were not subject to the sexual whims of the man, they were subjecting the 
man to their wills, and gaining enormous pleasure from the perverted acts they were 
performing.

They had whipped the man into subjection.

If I had been distressed about the life of its own that my own willful pussy seemed to 
possess, I suddenly realized that a man, too, often has no control over his own impulses, 
especially when they pertain to his sexual impulses.

This knowledge alone fascinated me, and sent my brain whirling with plans and ideas that 
were to prove, I think, fatal to me.

As surely as I was standing there, I was convinced that the helpless man servicing these 
two women, did not want to be in the state that provided them pleasure. And yet, he was a 
helpless victim, and he had been as constrained to do their bidding, as I had been constrained
to do the bidding of the duke, and his retinue, who had used me so shamelessly.

The very thought made my brain spin. And my cunt celebrated its new knowledge with a 
new intense activity.

The cold from the floor was beginning to seep through the down-lined woolen boots, but 
my cunt was on fire as it had never been on fire. The juices rolled down my soft white thighs, 
which soon became sticky with the thick, sweet, aromatic effluence of my passion.

I felt a smile of lust flickering across my mouth, as I stared at the grotesque, and strangely 
exciting scene which was unfolding before my eyes.

It was like some kind of strange, portentous dream that signals some important event in 
one's life, those dreams that herald a strange twist of fate, which frequently happen to people 
Tante Lisa had told me of a dream she had had, just before the last Great Plague. She had told
the priest who had correctly interpreted it for her. And it had come true! That was years before
I was born, but everyone said that the village had lost over half its population before the Great
Plague finally left to scourge some other hapless village.

"Ohhh, ahhhh!" Lady Solere cried. As I watched her movements became convulse. She was 
grinding her woman flesh into the man with a fury that was frightening to behold!

Mother Eustacia, too, was locked in the throes of the ecstatic sexual madness. My cunt 
quivered, and opened wide, making seemingly sucking motions on the air. It desired, I knew, 
to be solaced with a cock, or perhaps a mouth.

As I watched, my smile twisted to broader proportions on my face.

The man's hips had gone out of control. He was bucking his teeming loins up into Lady 
Solere's twisting, humping hips. He, too, had reached orgasm, it seemed.

The hinges of the manacles which bound his wrists and ankles to the cold stone rattled 
with his convulsive motions. I watched with unbridled lust as his muscles rippled with the 
massive outpouring of his manly juices, into Lady Solere's cunt.

With a great, guttural gasp, the Lady Solere's body jerked forward. It was trembling, the 
shivering visible even from the great distance at which I viewed her.

Her body fell forward, her breasts flattening out as they pressed into the man's heaving, 
hairy chest.

Mother Eustacia fell forward, leaning over Lady Solere's trembling back. Their naked flesh 
gleamed with sex sweat, and their bodies trembled with the after-effects of their passion.

I gazed at Lady Jenny. She was leaning against the door frame. Her mouth was parted, and
her breath hissed harshly from between her parted lips.

She saw my gaze, and again put her finger to her lips. Mother Eustacia and Lady Solere, 
rose from off the prostrate body of the man. His cock was still semi-erect and gleaming with 
the combined juices of his spilled seed, and Lady Solere's cunt cream.

The two women put on their nightgowns, and their woolen boots, and then covered their 
gowns with their woolen cloaks. They walked to a door at the side of the great fireplace, and 
disappeared through it.

I frowned at Lady Jenny, seeking an explanation for their departure.

"That's a secret staircase. It honeycombs this convent, twisting between the thick walls. It 
leads to many rooms and can be used for entrance or exit," Lady Jenny explained.

"At one time, it was used during the crusades, I believe," she continued. "They will leave 
him here all night, releasing him and letting him out that entrance at dawn, before Matins, so 
that he will not be discovered. In the meantime, we can have our fun."

Smiling, Lady Jenny took my hand, and we walked into the great hall. As we got closer to 
the fireplace, the warmth of the fire was welcome. I had become chilled to the bone standing 
outside in the dank corridor, although my fiery pussy had taken most of my attention, 
distracting from the rest of my chilled body.

As we walked into the room, I began to notice some of its features. There were great, 
polished brass plates on the walls. I walked up to one, catching the reflection of our 
movement into the room. I gasped.

A face stared out at me.

Lady Jenny laughed lightly, noticing my fascination.

"Have you never seen your face before?" she said.

I turned my gaze reluctantly from the image in the brass plate to Lady Jenny's face. I shook
my head, turning my gaze back to the image on the wall.

"You are quite lovely, you know," Lady Jenny murmured, fluffing my hair. It was a tawny 
yellow color that flashed with the flickering of the flames. My eyes were large, an iridescent 
blue, the irises circled with a darker blue. They were thickly fringed with dark lashes.

My face was heart-shaped, the chin clean-cut, my nose straight, my cheek bones high and 
regular. My mouth was soft and heart-shaped, my lower lip fuller than my upper lip.

I reached my hand up, and touched the image, which was partially obscured by my hand.

I turned again to stare, wonder-struck, at Lady Jenny.

"The rich always have mirrors. We know what we look like," Lady Jenny smiled.

"I always thought you were one of the prettiest women I had ever seen," I whispered.

Lady Jenny laughed at the implications, which I myself caught when I heard what I had 
said.

"And now you know how lovely you are!" she exclaimed. "Well, God made us both, and we
are both lovely. I will not deny you your beauty, as you have acknowledged mine," she said 
archly, taking me by the hand, and leading me over to the great stone block on which the 
man was pinioned.

His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be asleep. His features were rough-hewn and 
handsome. He had a full thick beard which was as black as the hair on his head, and as glossy. 
His mouth was full.

Lady Jenny stooped down and picked up the whip dropped by Lady Solere. With an 
expertise that awed me, she flicked it with deadly intent against the sole of the man's foot.

He started and raised his head. He frowned, but I saw the look of lust which flashed to life 
in his eyes. My eye traveled down his muscular body to his massive manhood.

It was jerking to tumescence again.

I wondered at the perversity of sexual appetite, to come so freely to life under any 
circumstance.

As I watched the massive cock spring to fullness, my own cunt gave of signals of a most 
demanding nature. I needed to be satisfied, and quickly! As I gazed at the man, Lady Jenny 
said to me, "well which part of him do you want?"

I looked at his full sensual mouth. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing rasped 
heavily in his throat.

Lady Jenny saw the direction of my gaze.

"Oh, good!" she cried. "I'm in the mood for a nice big piece of man meat to feed my 
hungry little twat."

With that, Lady Jenny lifted her voluminous white night gown, and got up on the stone 
slab. Her plump, pure white dimpled buttocks wiggled seductively as she worked her way past
the man's pinioned, powerful legs, to that burgeoning fleshy excrescence on which she had 
set her sights.

Trembling slightly with the thought of my wickedness, but driven by the great hunger in 
my cunt, I walked around to the man's head, and mounted the block.

Timidly, I put my hand out and ran my fingers through his fine, glossy thick hair. The sight 
and smell of him turned my blood to a boiling riot in my veins. Fascinated, feasting my eyes 
on my first sight of a naked man, I watched as Lady Jenny lowered her plump little mound, 
covered with strawberry blonde hair, over the man's massive, passion-empurpled cock head.

As I ran my fingers over the captive man's powerful chest and flat, hard belly, reveling in 
the strength of him combined with his helplessness, I watched his massive fuck muscle 
disappear slowly into the depths of Lady Jenny's eager, dripping twat.

I raised my own nightgown over my waist, inflamed by the knowledge that I was exposed 
to the man and that he had to do my bidding.

Little explosions of pleasure ripped through my cunt deliciously, as I straddled the man's 
handsome face. I looked down at him.

His dark, gleaming eyes were gazing up at the swollen pink, sticky-wet meat of my 
exposed womanhood. I watched as his thick, pink tongue flicked out, to lick his lips.

I felt my juices, hot and thick, gushing copiously from my tight little tunnel, as I lowered 
my woman meat over his face. I kept my eyes on the man's face, until it disappeared, covered 
by my thickly-furred tawny blonde muff, which I now knew matched the color of my hair.

"Ohhh!" I groaned, as I felt the soft moist pressure of his tongue pressing against my pink 
woman-meat: I thought I was going to faint from the pleasure which ripped through me, as I 
felt the first contact of a man's tongue with my twat.

The sensation was so intense as to be almost excruciating. In my pursuit of solitary 
pleasure, in my cell, I had learned many things about the seat of my sexual pleasure, and this 
man seemed to know everything I had learned.

The thick, moist tongue moved up to the little love button. He began to circle it with his 
tongue. His fleshy tongue aroused the little hard button, causing it to pop out of its fleshy 
little nest.

His tongue's contact with the hard little pleasure button sent sharp rills of ecstasy coursing
through my body.

I could feel my nipples puckering with pleasure beneath my thin nightgown. My blood 
pounded in my temples, and sent hot waves of bliss rippling through my body.

My cunt felt as if it were melting in a great thaw. The heat that emanated from it was 
intense.

Against the swollen, glistening flower-like folds of my womanly cleft, the man's heavy 
breathing blew moistly, each breath adding to the hot joy which had taken possession of my 
body.

The whole ambience of the great vaulted chamber, the lurid licking of the flames against 
the walls, the rapidly shifting areas of gloom and light, as the. fire in the massive fireplace rose
and fell, and the whimpering cries of ecstasy from my new-found friend, who was now rising 
and falling with a rapid rhythm on the man's cock, turned me into a mad woman.

Remembering the wild rocking rhythm of Mother Eustacia, as she sat on the man's face, I 
began to undulate my round ass cheeks back and forth. The man's mouth moved faster, more 
insistently on my swollen pink meat, and I, too, began to moan, as the pleasure became so 
intense, that it almost resembled pain.

My body turned taut with the pleasure which shook it in little convulsions. The rocking of 
my hips back and forth over the man's mouth became more frenzied, as his tongue worked its
unspeakably marvelous effect on my twat.

His tongue worked more and more furiously. He flattened his tongue out, and pried into 
every pink nook and cranny of my twat, causing the delicate pink flesh to tingle madly with 
the lurid pleasure. He tried to pry his huge oral organ into my teeming fuck channel. I could 
feel his tongue lapping up my steaming, rapidly flowing juices.

I threw my head back and closed my eyes, abandoning myself to the wild fleshy bliss 
which was rolling through me.

The man's tongue moved up my cunt lips again, circling my inflamed clitoris with an 
ever-increasing pressure, which caused my rocking motions on his face to become more and 
more abandoned.

My body was covered with sex sweat. I could feel it rolling down my back, covering my 
face. My thighs trembled with the bliss which seemed to bloat me, fill my head and fog my 
mind.

Lady Jenny's mewling little cries of pleasure were rising to a crescendo which pierced my 
own lust-besotted senses, and further heightened the intensity of the wild emotions which 
were piercing me.

I felt the man's mouth open wide. He covered my whole twat with it. I felt his mouth 
sucking on my swollen and throbbing twat, creating a delicious pressure that demanded 
release.

My belly contracted, and I jerked forward, bracing myself by placing my hands on his hard,
heaving, hairy belly. He moaned against my pussy. The vibrations of the moan shook me, as 
an earthquake shakes the ground.

"Aaahhh!" I cried. I felt the man's strong white teeth bite gently into my tingling clitoris, 
and I began to feel the spasms of climax taking possession of my little cunt.

My cuntal muscles began to contract heavily, each contraction sending a convulsive wave 
of hot ecstasy roaring through my whole body.

The man's mouth went wild on my twat, as my hips went out of my rational control. I 
ground them lasciviously into his hot, moist oral cavity, as his tongue wetly whipped my 
orgasm to a fierce pitch that caused my whole body to convulse.

Dimly, through my sensual writhing, I could hear Lady Jenny screaming.

"Aaaiieeeee!" I cried, as my own orgasm peaked. Beneath my hands, braced on the man's 
belly, another fleshy cataclysm was going on. I could feel his own muscles contracting and 
relaxing, feel the violent tremor of passion which possessed his body.

Beneath my soft palms, the man's hairy body became moist, as his pores released their 
streams of sex sweat, covering his body with a thin, gleaming patina of sex sweat.

The three of us were locked together, mindlessly, in the throes of a massive convulsion 
which caused us to rock back and forth, to heave wildly, as we were buffeted by the delicious 
delirium which possessed us.

"Ohhhh!" I moaned, my voice deep and guttural. The man's tongue continued to play 
around and around the inflamed love button. I felt him licking me clean of the thick syrup of 
my passion, as my body slowly relaxed from the mind-boggling orgasm which had consumed 
it.

I fell forward, my soft cheek landing on the hard pillow of his undulating belly.

The man continued to lick on my twat, until my clitoris, now incredibly sensitized, 
protested, and I pulled my twat away from his mouth.

I was trembling with the after-effects of my orgasm, as I raised myself off the man's 
mouth, and looked at Lady Jenny. The look on her face was one of sheer bliss, as if she had 
just witnessed a vision.

There was a soft, sensual smile playing around her full, sweet lips. She, too, raised herself 
from the man's dwindling sex organ. Her hair was dark and gleaming with the honey from her 
own snatch, as she got off the man.

The two of us stood facing each other, the smiles of sexual pleasure lighting our features.

I looked down at the man. He was covered with sweat, his chest rising and falling 
convulsively, as he strove to fill his lungs with air.

A sense of enormous power filled me as I stared at his prostrate body. His eyes were 
closed, as if in complete resignation.

"Let us go, Annette," the plump little nun said, walking toward the secret door. "There may
be others who wish to take advantage of the blacksmith."

"Is that what he is?" I asked, as we walked toward the little door, and went through it.

"Yes," she said. "Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed, rushing toward the entrance on the other 
side of the room. She came back, puffing, with the candle in her hand.

I was led up the narrow stairs. At every landing, there was a tiny door, and Lady Jenny 
explained to me where every one led.

It was, perhaps, considering my later career, a gentle beginning. It had been an awesome 
experience for me!





CHAPTER FOUR


During the next several weeks, I foreswore the pleasures of the library. Carefully and 
meticulously, I learned every inch of every corridor in that massive subterranean vault.

I studied all the names and dates on the plaques in the burial chambers for further 
research. I learned every twisting and turning of the chambers, many of which had been used 
for torture.

Some of the instruments I knew. Others I would have to discover the uses for.

The whole situation pleased me. I considered my quiet, orderly, virtually unassailable life as
a nun, in a convent where every want and need was provided for, and I considered the strange
twisting and turning of fate, which had led me to the knowledge of the secret dark doings in 
the convent.

Nothing was left to the imagination.

Once I had donned the robes, I was considered a member of the community, and I was a 
good listener. I became their official librarian and scrivener, seeking out information they 
needed, writing their most intimate letters to their most intimate friends. I kept my mouth 
closed, and listened carefully.

The only one who never dictated a letter to me was Lady Solere. And from her, I learned 
nothing, except that she was a sensualist of the first water, who indulged her appetites to the 
hilt. They were many and varied.

Like scavengers some of the younger nuns, such as Lady Jenny and myself, Lady 
Louise-Anne, and Mother Margeurite, followed her, and took advantage of her leavings.

The blacksmith, and such he was, as I discovered when I started to go to town to do the 
marketing, was not the only lover Lady Solere had.

She was also the confidante and bed-companion of many nobles, who would visit the 
convent in the dead of night.

I did not forget my intention to wreak vengeance on the head of My Lord Wyndham. I 
bided my time, listening to every word Lady Jenny told me about him, and extracting the last 
iota of meaning from the simplest facts.

He visited her several times a year, usually coming with two of his most trusted 
companions, who also desired to be serviced. Of course there were plenty in the convent who 
were most willing to do so.

Lady Jenny had asked me if, when he came again, I would be willing to join her in her 
lustful sexual rites. I agreed with alacrity, and made my plans.

I soon learned the uses of the various instruments of torture hanging from the walls.

When there were no men available, which was seldom, the nuns of the community would 
frequently gather together in one of the chambers for a night of venting their passions on 
each other.

Lady Jenny and I were almost always at these rites, unless we had so exhausted ourselves 
on a man the night before that we were too tired.

One night, just before the end of winter, three men scaled the walls of the convent. J was 
poring over an old manuscript which contained some of the history of the convent. It was late.
I heard the sound of iron grapples, the chink of metal against stone, and went to the window.

There are supposed to be no men in a convent. Therefore, if a convent is invaded, there is 
no protection for the ostensibly helpless women who live in it.

Those are merely the bare facts, as I have just informed you. With regard to the apparent 
helplessness of the women, that, too, is a myth. Even without the strength of a man, a 
woman's wiles are sufficient so that she can gain the upper hand quite readily.

When I saw the three men cautiously descending into the grounds of the convent, I 
grabbed my robe quickly, and walked down the hall to knock on Mother Sybil's cell door.

The rule was that under no circumstances but the direst emergency, was Lady Leticia to be 
disturbed in her slumber. Some of the younger nuns insisted that this was because Lady 
Leticia slept with the Devil every night. I scoffed such stories, but wondered at the implications
of them, having become acquainted with the nocturnal life of the convent!

Mother Sybil came quickly to the door, frowning.

"Mother Sybil!" I whispered, "I have just seen three men scale the convent wall. They are 
creeping through the garden now!"

Mother Sybil threw on her robe, and woolen boots, and we descended quickly to the main
floor. The chapel windows over looked the garden, and we went there.

The large room was quiet and secret-dark, redolent with the smell of beeswax candles. 
Mother Sybil and I went to one of the stained glass windows. She opened one of the windows 
by a little hinge, and we peered through.

The men were picking their way through the ornate shrubbery, negotiating the fountains 
and chairs which were set in the lovely garden, heading toward the kitchens.

"Good!" Mother Sybil whispered, "come quickly!" she said to me. We went through the 
chapel to one of the halls which led down to the subterranean chambers with which I thought 
I was thoroughly familiar.

I still had lessons to learn! Peering occasionally through the windows, to check on the 
progress of the stealthy intruders, Mother Sybil pressed a button behind a tapestry, which I 
knew covered one of the secret doors leading to the secret staircase which honeycombed the 
walls I had never noticed the button. I listened respectfully while Mother Sybil conveyed to me
the meaning of the little door behind the tapestry, not informing her that I already knew every
single inch of the passageway.

A small chink appeared where Mother Sybil pressed the button, and I could see an iron 
lever in the chink of stone which she had revealed.

"Now," she said, "go to the window, and tell me when the men approach the little statue 
of the dog. They must be within four feet of it, all of them!"

"Yes, Mother," I said, fascinated. I went to the narrow, arched window and peered through 
it, careful to keep myself hidden.

The men's progress was almost painfully slow, as they were being exceptionally cautious. 
Finally, I could see the three of them, grouped near the statue of the little dog, which was 
situated near the quadrant of the garden closest to the building itself.

"Now, Mother," I whispered.

Mother Sybil pulled the lever, with no apparent difficulty. I heard a muffled, grating sound,
and then a cry. I looked out the window, startled, just in time to see the three men disappear 
into a great hole in the ground.

I gasped.

"Have they fallen in?" Mother Sybil asked.

"Yes," I said, awed. Mother Sybil pulled the lever back to its original position, and before 
my very eyes, the hole in the earth closed up again.

"What was that?" I asked.

Mother Sybil smiled. "Just one of our little secrets, my dear," she said, walking toward the 
window to peer through it.

"Come, I will, show you. There are many such secrets in this convent, and perhaps it is time
for you to learn some of them."

She pulled the tapestry back, revealing the tiny door which I already knew. She opened it, 
and we went into the narrow stairway. We walked down the stairway to a door which I knew 
led out into the garden on the same side where the men had disappeared.

Bundling up against the chill night air, we walked out into the garden, and over to the 
statue. Mother Sybil knelt down, and I followed suit.

"This statue is really on hinges," Mother Sybil explained. "At one time it was a secret 
entrance and exit, during the Crusades when there was much persecution and bloodshed. 
Eventually, when this castle became a convent, it became a method for trapping intruders."

Mother Sybil pushed a little lever, which I discovered at the base of the statue. Again the 
ground opened, a most ingenious and clever device. I looked down into the hole.

Three terrified men were standing in a square chamber with sheer stone sides, and a stone
floor.

I was puzzled. I had never seen that chamber, or anything resembling it. From its position 
in the garden, my assumption was that it was near the wine cellar.

Again Mother Sybil pulled the lever, and the grating noise was heard as the hollow earth 
swallowed up the three men.

"Where is that room, Mother Sybil?" I asked.

"It is in a niche near the back of the wine cellar, where we keep the casks of ale. In that 
corner, you will find another lever like this, which releases one of those stone blocks. We shall 
send someone for the constable tomorrow, to take these men to jail for trespass and intended
robbery. Then you will see the lever. We will, of course, remove them before the constable 
comes. It would not do for outsiders to know the secrets of this convent."

Mother Sybil and I went back into the convent and to our rooms, but I couldn't sleep, so 
excited was I with the discovery.

After a certain length of time, to allow Mother Sybil to get back to bed, I again crept down
the corridor to Lady Jenny's room. I opened the door cautiously, and walked to her bed.

I tapped her gently on the shoulder. She awoke with a start, and smiled at me, as I sat on 
the edge of her cot.

"Did you know there was a secret chamber behind the ale casks?" I asked.

Lady Jenny sat up. "Of course I did! How stupid of me not to tell you. How did you 
discover it?"

I told her about the occurrence and Lady Jenny got out of bed swiftly.

"Oh, fun, fun, fun! Three of them did you say? Let us go, quickly, and awaken Lady Solere, 
and Mother Eustacia. Intruders don't happen very often."

With that, Lady Jenny threw her black robe around her shoulders and put on her woolen 
boots. We walked down the corridor to awaken Lady Solere and Mother Eustacia.

They came swiftly, Lady Solere gazing at me quizzically.

"It's all right, Lady Solere," said Lady Jenny. "She has already partaken of some of our 
nocturnal feasts.

"Ahh!" the Lady Solere smiled, grasping my shoulder warmly. "We cannot be too careful. 
We do not want to scandalize the delicate," she said, as we went down to the wine cellar.

"Before the constable picks these men up, they will be thoroughly chastised, and so 
terrorized that they will not dare to breathe a word of what happens this night!" Mother 
Eustacia said, as Lady Jenny pushed the lever which opened the stone wall to our view.

Inside, the three men were now huddled together on the floor, apparently sleeping.

Mother Eustacia, who was a singularly tall woman, easily topping the average height of 
most men, donned a black mask and gloved, and pulled her black woolen cape around her so 
that her nightie did not show. She looked imposing to one who knew her, like me.

She must have looked downright frightening, a vision of terror, to those who were not 
familiar with her warm, hearty ways.

From the same cache behind the lever where she had extracted the black mask and gloves,
she pulled out a whip, and several lengths of chain.

"Now it's your turn," Lady Solere said, turning to me and pointing to the cache. I reached 
in, and pulled out several more black leather masks and sets of gloves, and whips.

Each of us donned the same items of apparel, and armed with the whips and lengths of 
chain, we entered the room.

Before I ducked down to go through the tiny doorway, Lady Jenny tapped me on my 
shoulder, and put her finger to her lips, indicating silence.

We entered silently. One of the men started and backed into the stone wall, his eyes wide, 
his expression haggard, as he saw the four of us, black-garbed and silent, and armed.

"Wh-what do-do you w-want?" he wailed, his voice cracking under the strain of the fear he
felt.

"What did you want, entering this sacred precinct?" Mother Eustacia's voice sounded, at 
least an octave lower than her usual low voice.

"Nothing, nothing!" one of the other men said. "We'll leave. We won't ever come-come 
back. Please let us go!"

The third man just stared, open-mouthed, at the frightening apparition we must have 
made.

While I stayed still where I was, the other three woman strode forward silently.

Using the men's fear against them, they bound them with the chain, swiftly enough. 
Mother Eustacia produced from the voluminous folds of her cape three blindfolds, with which 
they covered the men's eyes.

Then they marched the men, staggering slightly from their sightlessness and the 
helplessness it must have created, out of the chamber.

Silently, Mother Eustacia indicated that I was to close the chamber off, which I did by 
pushing the lever. We led the men to the great vaulted chamber where I had first seen Lady 
Solere in action.

Silently, while I watched fascinated, the three women ripped off the clothing of the men, 
until they were nude before our lascivious gaze.

They were not bad-looking, any of them, and I felt the sweet riot starting in my snatch as I 
gazed upon them.

And they were so helpless! They were bound by chains, and blindfolded, and totally in our 
power. That sweet sense of transcendence which I had felt first with the bound blacksmith 
overtook me again.

I was delirious with the sexual havoc in my cunt! And it was my cunt which responded 
intensely to the intellectual realization of my power over them.

Without a word, Mother Eustacia, Lady Solere, and Lady Jenny led the three men to the 
massive stone block, before the fire.

There was room on that stone block, which traversed the whole length of the fireplace, 
about ten feet in front of it, for several men. The three of them were pushed onto the block, 
and manacled.

"Wha-what are you going to do to us?" one of the men asked in a quavering voice.

I looked at the three grinning, masked women, who remained absolutely silent. Mother 
Eustacia went to the wall, and removed a long, metal rod. This she placed in the fire, until the 
tip of it was flaming red.

She went to the first man on the block, and applied the tip of the rod to the man's nipple.

The manacles clanked as his body stiffened, and he screamed. My pussy juices were 
starting to flood out of me. Lady Jenny looked at me, and nodded. The other two women 
were busy picking their weapons, and I made haste to do the same.

I heard the man scream again, and I heard the sizzle of burning flesh, as Mother Eustacia 
applied the red hot iron to the man's other nipple. I was trying to decide between a pair of 
pincers, the effects of which, when heated, are remarkable, and a long, vicious looking whip.

I decided on the whip, since I had been practicing with it, and had acquired some 
expertise.

I went to the foot of the stone block and gazed at one of the men, and then looked at the 
other women.

Lady Solere smiled and nodded. By now, I understood that the rule was absolute silence. I 
smiled back at her, and flicked the whip, without touching the man's body, allowing the snap 
of it to register on his brain.

He winced, and broke out into a cold sweat. He began to struggle, vainly against the iron 
manacles which bound him to the cement. He would be an apt subject to practice what I had 
learned on!

I flicked the whip again, so that the tip of it curled delicately and then snapped straight 
out. It caught the man on his left nipple.

"Aaiieeee!" he screamed. His very toes curled inward. I smiled, and noted the approving 
look from Lady Solere, who was studying me.

Lady Solere proceeded to apply a thumb screw to the middle man, while Lady Jenny, with 
a pair of tiny pincers, started to pluck the hairs of his beard out, one by one.

I smiled with happy empathy at the ladies' perverse pleasures, which were so like mine, 
and flicked the whip again on the man I had chosen.

Again he stiffened and screamed, as the tip of the whip caught his right nipple. I wasn't 
wrong in my assessment. I had become fairly accomplished with the use of the whip.

I felt my own nipples puckering with a perverse pleasure as I applied the whip again, this 
time to the tip of the man's nose. A faint trickle of blood appeared, where the deadly tip of 
the whip unleashed its harsh power.

The room was now filled with the shrieks and screams of the tortured men, as the women 
plied their weapons with deadly effect.

I flicked my whip again, this time catching the man on the balls which were clearly visible 
between his spread-eagled legs.

His scream shot through my body like a physical force. The pain which I had inflicted on 
his scrotum unleashed a torrent of words from the man.

"Please, I'll do anything you say, noooo! Please... ahhhh!" My whip landed again on his full,
pendulous sacs. The manacles rattled wildly as the man struggled to free himself.

"Please, don't do this, please, noooo!" Again my whip landed, this time on the shaft of his 
penis, nestled in a thick forest of dark pubic hairs. My body was beginning to tremble with the
lurid excitement running through it.

His penis, now marred by a thick red welt where the whip had hit, surprisingly enough 
jerked, and stood up, thickening slightly.

I was amazed. I compared my situation, tied to a refectory table, raped by the duke, with 
the situation of this man, who was blindfolded and helpless.

Part of my shame that horrible day had been the pleasure that coursed through my 
helpless body when I didn't want it to, didn't want to consent to the unspeakable act of 
depravity which the duke had perpetrated on my helpless womanhood.

Our sexual natures are such that we have little rational control over them. This man was 
living proof that a man is just as vulnerable in this respect as a woman. And the knowledge of 
that only inflamed me to more frenzied activity.

With my passions boiling in me furiously, I raised the whip again, and again applied it, with
a minimum of damage to his precious male appendage, and with a maximum of pain.

I was learning the Devil's ways.

I watched his cock rise as I flicked the whip at it, the lashes causing great welts. Once I 
flicked it, wrapping the tip of it around the fleshy sword, and tugged on it.

It distended to even greater size, until it was perhaps about nine inches in length and very 
thick around. It became flushed with the blood which rushed to it, bloating it.

At the tip of his cock a pearly drop of pre-come appeared. I licked my Ups, having the 
perverse urge to taste it, to see what a man's seed tasted like in my mouth.

And why not, I thought to myself. If a man could taste and savor the juices from my cunt, 
as the blacksmith had done, why shouldn't I taste a man's come?

The thought persisted, as I turned my attention to the man's quivering belly. I had reduced
him to ashes, I thought. Where was his male pride now? Where was his strength, his power 
over me? All ashes!

I paused in my whipping to stare at the other women. They were staring at me, fascinated, 
perhaps, by my frenzy, by the charismatic sense of power that flushed me. I could feel my face 
flushed with the perverse passions which lent strength to my body, and a strange exaltation to
my mind.

I was exhilarated. Even the awed gaze of the women added to the sense I had of my own 
victory over circumstances, particularly over a man.

These men had come to prey on helpless women, and they had turned into the prey of 
those very women whose strength and resources they had dismissed, out-of-hand.

Oh, this was indeed poetic justice, I thought, my cunt running with the oily ambrosia of my
lust.

I smiled radiantly at my companions, who returned the greeting, and then applied 
themselves to the torture.

Lady Jenny had plucked half of the man's beard off his face with the tweezers she was 
wedding. Where his bare flesh showed, it was studded with tiny little bubbles of blood, and 
red and chapped.

Her eyes were lust-bright, and I marveled at her fortitude in withholding her gratification. I
could tell from the way she was looking at the man's mouth, what it was she wanted.

I saw Mother Eustace drop the red-hot rod she had used to torture the man on the end. 
And then I noted that his cock, too, was fully erect, and inflamed with lust.

Mother Eustacia raised the dark hem of the cloak, and then pulled her nightgown above 
her waist, revealing her soft, rounded ass buns, and her well shaped, strong thighs. She got up
on the stone block, and on her knees, worked her way up the pinioned legs of the man she 
had been torturing, until her gleaming cunt meat was positioned directly in front of the man's 
bobbing cock.

She grasped the thick pulsing man-meat in her soft white hand, and pointed the drooling 
tip of it at her cunt slit. I saw the head of the man's cock disappear into the fleshy cleft of her 
womanhood.

Mother Eustacia threw her head back. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, but not a 
word issued from her mouth. The rule of silence still reigned.

Lady Solere was also beside herself with lust. I could see her burgeoning breasts heaving 
under the cloak with her labored breathing. There was a thin patina of sex sweat on her lovely,
white brow.

The man whom she was torturing was moaning, his blindfolded head tossing from side to 
side on the hard stone block. His thumb was a bloody pulp from the thumb screw she had 
applied to it.

And his cock, too, was a raging, prurient rod, which bobbed lewdly. I saw the lovely 
posterior of Lady Solere, as she raised her garments above her waist, and straddled the man 
she had been torturing.

Lady Jenny was now rocking back and forth on the man's half-plucked face. Throughout 
the chamber came the fleshy, wet-sucking sounds of cocks rubbing back and forth on wet 
genitals, and one man's mouth on Lady Jenny's wet and teeming twat.

I dropped my whip, tired for the moment with my fiendish pleasure, and seeking gentler 
sport, if such sexual activity may be called. I, too, raised my garments above my waist, 
revealing my tawny twat, and my firm, rounded ass cheeks.

I got up on the stone block, gazing at my handiwork. The man's body was covered with 
welts.

There was blood clotted on the tip of his nose where I had applied the whip with such 
vicious effect.

Twin streams of blood issued from the man's nipples, where the tip of the whip had 
cleaved the pink, puckered flesh.

His hairy body was covered with red welts. All this was my work, mine! And the exhilaration
which roared through me caused my cunt to melt, the heavy aromatic syrup to roll copiously, 
greasing my cunt for the activity ahead.

I worked my way on my knees, almost ritualistically, up the man's legs to his pulsing prick. 
His male member was thick, and incredibly hard and stiff.

Without touching his man-meat, I wriggled my ass cheeks downward, until I felt the hot 
tip of his cock pressing on the dripping entrance to my fuck tunnel.

I gritted my teeth against the exquisite pleasure, which threatened to rip a scream from my
throat.

The sounds of sonorous, passion-laden breathing filled the room with a hissing sound, but
aside from the moans of the tortured men, there were no other sounds except the wet 
sucking noises of genitals against genitals, and mouth against genitals.

I wriggled downward, listening to the moaning man I had tortured, grunt. His body 
stiffened somewhat, as he felt the tight wet envelope of my cunt closing around his cock.

And I felt an even greater sense of victory, as I watched his cock disappear into my tight, 
pulsing pussy. Inch after inch of his thick, turgid rod, was buried in the deep cave of my 
woman flesh.

For the second time, I felt my power over a man. He was my thrall, my slave, mine to do 
with as I chose. And this was the vengeance I sought from the duke, to reverse position he 
had always been in, to teach him what it was like to be the victim, to be helpless before the 
awesome might of another's sexual desires.

And then I felt his hairy, bruised balls pressing against my quivering ass cheeks. I ground 
my muff into the hairy base of his prick, the pressure of my movements spreading the folds of 
my pink and wet inner flesh, releasing my clitoris from its fleshy sheath, to receive the full 
benefits of contact with this magnificent prick.

I started to bob up and down on the man, riding him furiously, as a man rides a 
scarcely-tamed stallion. I straddled the man's haunches as a man straddles a horse, and rode 
him. I wanted to ride him to death if possible.

That, I thought, would be the ultimate sexual experience. To kill a man by fucking him!





CHAPTER FIVE


As I look back on my career as the Devil's Nun, I realize that this night, when I was 
transported, almost as if possessed by a devil, beyond my wildest imagination, was the start of
my active participation in a career, which earned me such a reputation.

If the men did not know who perpetrated such foul deeds upon them, their imaginations 
were vivid enough to supply an answer.

They insisted that they had been possessed by succubi.

I felt like a female demon that night, as I slowly rode up and down the man's prick, 
twisting and turning, to feel every inch of my cunt caressed by his thick, hot man-flesh.

My cuntal muscles had gone crazy, sucking greedily on the man's cock, squeezing against 
his turgid shaft, massaging the flesh, which must have stung with excruciating pain from the 
welts I had left on it with the whip.

And yet, even in his pain, the helpless man whom I had made my slave, responded with a 
passion of his own which was singularly intense, as if the very pain had whipped his manhood 
to a fury.

As I rode , up and down his tumescent fuck tool, I could feel his cock distending to an 
incredible size in my cunt, stuffing me tightly.

The very stuffing sensation created a pressure which tool hold of my body. I became a 
mad woman on the man's cock, bouncing up and down, gyrating lasciviously and with 
complete abandon on the man's hard, hot prick.

There was no chance of discovery. There wasn't even a partner involved in the obscene act
I was performing. He was helpless and blindfolded. He could never point at me and say that I 
was the one who had possessed him that night.

The very knowledge of this anonymity further whetted my appetite. I cannot remember 
ever having felt such intense ecstasy before. My body became all cunt, and my cunt became a 
great gaping maw that sought to devour the cock which was piercing my womanhood.

The itching in my cunt grew to furious pitch, as I ground my body around and around on 
the man's cock.

I was not a passive victim. I was the victor, and the man's cock were my spoils of war. I 
took absolute and full advantage of my privilege.

The man's prick pulsed powerfully in my demanding pussy, as I rode up and down on his 
cock. As I slammed down into the hairy base of his cock, I ground my pussy lips around and 
around on the wiry pubic hairs, teasing my clitoris to an inflamed bliss, which traveled through
me, and caused my muscles to twitch violently.

The man's mouth opened, and a great bellow issued from it. His hips began to buck 
upward, slamming into my sucking snatch. I felt the tip of his cock plumping the depths of my
womb, slamming into it with such force that great waves of ecstasy rolled upward and 
outward, consuming my whole body.

Then I felt the geyser of his hot, thick gism pouring into me. It melded hotly with my 
frothing come juices, and rolled down my rippling fuck tunnel. I felt it drooling out of my 
stuffed hole.

I looked down, watching the man's massive cock appear, gleaming with our combined 
juices, and then disappear, as I swallowed it up again into my insatiable snatch.

His pubic hairs were thickly matted with the effluence of our lewd joining, our combined 
come cream, which rolled out of my tightly stuffed snatch and onto his teeming, bucking 
loins.

His buttocks slapped up and down on the stone slab, as I rode him into virtual oblivion. 
My cuntal muscles closed tightly around his spewing fuck rod, sucking more and more of the 
juices out of his balls.

I sucked in all of the liquid treasure of his manhood that it was humanly possible, wanting 
into the bargain, his blood as well.

My convulsing pussy muscles clutched greedily at the huge dork, plummeting in and out 
of my deep hole. Each rhythmic gripping at his cock caused him to grunt.

As my orgasm peaked, I closed my eyes, and threw my head back, clenching my teeth 
against the great scream which threatened to issue from my throat. Through my 
lust-befogged brain I could hear the strident sibilance of my breathing.

The convulsions rippled through my whole body, leaving behind a golden after-glow of 
well being and contentment, which stayed with me for a long time.

I kept bouncing up and down on the man's erect member, while he shot the last of his 
wad, feeling my own ecstatic spasms fading away into a pleasurable happiness, which relaxed 
my body and made it glow.

My eyes fluttered open, and I gazed at the blindfolded man. There was a fine tremor 
running through his powerfully-built body. A thin trickle of saliva issued from the corner of his
slack mouth.

His breathing was heavy, rasping. I could even see the pulse-beat of his heart against his 
chest, so violent was it in the wake of his orgasm. His dork shriveled slowly in my cunt, until 
finally, I got off it.

As I stood up, I felt our combined juices pouring out of my cunt, making my inner thighs 
sticky and wet. The feeling was incomparably sensual and satisfactory.

I looked at the other nuns.

Lady Jenny was lying across the torso of the tortured man in the middle. Lady Solere had 
arisen from off the man's cock. She was watching his cock turn flaccid. Mother Eustacia was 
still bouncing up and down on the cock of the man she had chosen for her particular object of
torture.

As I watched, her buttocks rippled with the contraction of her muscles, as she started to 
come. She bounced furiously up and down on the man's cock, her hips twisting and gyrating 
lasciviously around and around on the tumescent fuck tool.

The ecstasy rose in me again, as I gazed on Mother Eustacia's gorgeous, writhing body as 
she experienced her own orgasm. I marveled at her ability to remain silent.

As the three of us watched. Mother Eustacia's motions became spastic, violent, and her 
soft feminine secret flesh almost seemed to be beating the teeming loins of the man who was 
bucking under her.

Finally, even Mother Eustacia's gyrations subsided. With a great gasp, she rose off the 
man's rapidly dwindling cock, and lowered her garments.

Without a word, using only signs to each other, we removed the men from their shackles 
and led them, blindfolded, back to their cells. I picked up all of their clothing.

Mother Eustacia opened the secret panel which led into the small chamber, and we tossed 
the men in. I threw their clothes in after them.

Strangely exalted, I sought my cell and bed again. I fell almost instantly into a sound sleep.

After Matins the next day, Lady Leticia approached me.

"I understand, child, that you and Mother Sybil discovered intruders in the garden last 
night, and captured them."

"Yes, My Lady," I said. "They are trapped now in that chamber beneath the garden."

"Good. Will you go with Mother Sybil into town, and tell the constable to come and get 
the men?"

"Yes, My Lady," I said, going to fetch Mother Sybil.

Lady Leticia saw us to the great iron-grilled gate, which she opened.

"Are you sure you're all right to remove the men?" Mother Sybil asked.

Lady Leticia smiled. "Of course. You know what a strange effect that chamber has on 
intruders. They are always slightly deranged and very meek when we fetch them out of it. Also,
there is Mother Eustacia, who has the strength of an ox."

"Fine, Lady Leticia. We shall return shortly, then," Mother Sybil said.

I was by now used to the reactions of the townspeople to me. Clad simply, but in fine 
worsted cloaks, with fine leather boots, I knew I made an impressive sight.

The townspeople always bowed to me, and made way for me, as I rode into town on the 
finely caparisoned horse, which I rode to market.

We had the same effect as we rode into town on a different errand today.

"What did Lady Leticia mean when she said the men were slightly deranged?" I asked 
Mother Sybil.

Mother Sybil looked at me and frowned. "We do not know, really. Perhaps there is an evil 
spirit in that chamber, someone who died there. Lady Leticia has even suggested exorcising 
the room, but the priests who pass through here are very reluctant to do that, since the 
derangement appears to be simple enough and not violent.

"It's just that every time over the long years, that we capture an intruder, usually a thief 
after our silver or gold, we find them in a sorry state in the morning. Frequently they do 
damage to themselves, and mutilate themselves.

"And all of them tell frightful story of being possessed by demons or being taken carnally 
by succubi. Lady Leticia, and the head abbess before her, Lady Montrose, have forbidden any 
of the nuns to go near the room, except to lead the men out when we fetch the constable.

"However, since the chamber is a valuable aid in our self-defense, we cannot very well 
close it off, although Lady Leticia would like to do that."

"I see," I said, biting my lower Up. I had the impulse to laugh. And my pussy, on that 
leather saddle, was quivering outrageously. I was almost sorry to see the men go.

Word got around by the various channels, of my ardor in pursuing the chastisement of the
intruders, and that's when I first heard the name used, the Devil's Nun.

"Why you were indeed the Devil's own that night," Lady Jenny said, her eyes sparkling as 
she recalled the scene she had witnessed.

"You were so impassioned, so full of fire. I have never seen such power unleashed, and 
you! So sweet and so compliant, so willing to do what pleases! You were indeed a terror. Even 
Lady Solere, who is mistress of such arts, says it is so. She says you have a veritable native 
talent for such services, and she says you shall be a part of all our like ceremonies in the 
future."

I was not loathe to accept the honor.



* * *



My next several years passed uneventfully. Because of my literary talents, I became, with 
Mother Sybil, an invaluable assistant to Lady Leticia. I acquitted myself admirably in all the 
chores that were given me to do.

I studied assiduously, learning the rubric of the services, learning every inch of the 
convent, and all the customs and habits of centuries, which made up its culture.

I partook of many ceremonies, many sexual rites, as they occurred in the convent, and they
did frequently. The greatest mystery to me was Lady Solere, whose story I could not penetrate,
and whose wall of silence about her reasons for coming to the convent was impenetrable.

And yet, we became very good friends. She mastered to some degree the art of writing 
and reading, and I mastered the dulcimer. Since I did much of the marketing, now with the 
companionship of Mother Sybil, Lady Louise having died peacefully in her sleep that first 
spring I was there, I listened to the peasant songs, and added immeasurably to the repertoire 
of melody with which the two of us entertained the nuns in the evening.

Only once was I rebuked. I had learned a song from a young peasant girl, which I thought 
was delightful. In the song, a man was compared to a bull in spring, in a pasture full of cows.

It was bawdy, but I did not think it was evil in any way, just natural. When Lady Leticia first 
heard the song, I noticed a frown on her face. The other nuns laughed and clapped when I 
had finished it.

"My child," Lady Leticia said, as the last notes of the song faded away in the elegantly 
appointed parlor. "I know it is only your innocence that prevents you from understanding that
song, but it is bawdy, carnal. It is unbecoming to you in your station in life.

"I must beg you to forget that you ever learned it."

I blushed, and lowered my head. "I am sorry I have offended, Lady Leticia," I murmured.

After that, the song was sung in secret, and only when Lady Leticia was not present.

My Lord Wyndham visited the convent several times over the next few years. Time did not 
seem to work any effect on him. He seemed, indeed to be ageless.

At Lady Jenny's request, I was with him and his two retainers, along with another nun of 
Lady Jenny's choosing, when we engaged in a bawdy revelry that left nothing to the 
imagination.

As I suspected, my new life and my burgeoning womanhood had wrought such changes in
me that My Lord Wyndham did not recognize me at all. I doubt, however, that he would have 
recognized me, even if I had remained the same, and worn the same garment that I had on 
when he raped me, such was the depth of his callousness, his indifference to everyone.

One day, when he visited, and Lady Jenny had come to recruit me for one of his retainers, 
she asked who I would suggest as a third companion for the third retainer.

"Lady Anice usually does the honors," I said.

"Ahh, but her time of month is on her, so she is unable," said Lady Jenny.

"Well, what about Lady Solere?"

"Why, I never even thought of that. She would perhaps be most willing. Would you ask 
her?"

"I would be happy to," I replied, putting down my quill, and rising to go to the parlor, 
where I knew Lady Solere was embroidering.

I put the question to her, feeling sure she would answer.

She gazed at me for a moment, her tine, expressive black eyes steady on my face. And 
then they flamed with laughter. She emitted a loud barking kind of laughter, almost sardonic.

"I beg your pardon, Lady Solere, have I offended you?"

"No, Mother Annette, you have not. You have honored me. But I cannot accept your 
invitation." Lady Solere returned to her embroidery, her face devoid of any expression I could 
read and divine.

Her response puzzled me, and I went up to report it to Lady Jenny, who frowned.

"Hmmm, but that does not solve our problem of a partner for Lord Raoul," she replied.

"What about Mother Eustacia? She is perhaps three or four inches taller than My Lord 
Raoul, and probably twice as strong, but wouldn't that please him?" I asked.

Lady Jenny shook her head sadly. "The last time Mother Eustacia coupled with Lord Raoul, 
he claimed he couldn't walk nor have a lady for a week!"

I laughed. "Well, do you suppose I could service both of them?"

Lady Jenny laughed. "If My Lord St. Pierre does not mind sharing you, it is a possibility!"

The men arrived at their usual time, and in the usual way, through the secret back entrance
to the convent.

Lady Jenny broached the subject of My Lord Wyndharrt's retainers sharing me. They both 
laughed, thinking it would be good sport.

I must say, that My Lord Wyndham was more gallant with Lady Jenny than I had ever seen 
him, or heard of his being with any other lady. They got on well together.

And I got on very well with My Lord St. Pierre, and Lord Raoul. They were both very comely
men, and very witty.

In the back of the great torture chamber, to which Lord Wyndham had never been led, 
Lady Jenny not having Lady Solere's need to punish her men for carnal knowledge, was a 
large, richly appointed room, filled with downy couches, the walls covered with erotic 
tapestries.

It looked like the harem of some medieval potentate, and so indeed, according to my 
reading, it might once have been, as the Crusaders came back with their spoils of war, both 
human and otherwise. It is known that they captured many maidens of the heathen sect, and 
used them as sex slaves.

This room, I suspected, had once been used to hide them, and from here they were 
summoned, either to be sold to visiting nobles who took a fancy to them, or used by the 
masters of this castle-turned-convent.

I will not go into the history of this convent, since it is already recorded and extant in the 
archives of the horary. My task is to set down on paper, the new legend which I have created 
here, to fill out, as it were, the history of this ancient institution.

This was where those of us who indulged in carnal pursuits usually entertained our visitors.

As soon as Lady Jenny reached the room, she divested herself of her habit. I did likewise.

And the noblemen were not far behind. My Lords St. Pierre and Raoul were, as I said, 
comely men. Both of them were fully erect, their cocks bobbing furiously, sticking straight out 
from their bodies.

My Lord Wyndham had fallen into one of the deep couches with Lady Jenny. I heard her 
giggling turning to moaning, as the two lords whom I was about to service dickered between 
them about who should have which part of me.

"I say we each take both parts," Lord Raoul said laughing.

"But who gets which part first?" the Lord St. Pierre said.

I lay down on the deep, soft couch, enjoying my nakedness, and the anticipation which the
sight of the two tumescent pricks was giving me.

"I care not who gets which part of me," I said, "as long as you make your choices quickly. 
Why don't you draw straws?" I suggested.

Lord Raoul saved the day with an act of graciousness.

He bowed low to Lord St. Pierre. "I defer to seniority," he said. "You have first choice."

Lord St. Pierre laughed, and promptly mounted me, placing his prick eagerly at the 
entrance to my dripping twat. I raised my knees to accept his massive dork. I had always been 
fond of Lord St. Pierre's great cock, which was as talented as it was large.

From behind the tapestries which hid Lady Jenny and Lord Wyndham, I could hear grunts 
and groans, which provided an erotic counterpoint to my own growing pleasure.

Lord St. Pierre thrust mightily, and I felt his great, drooling, bulbous cock head entering my
tight little twat. I groaned with pleasure as I felt the massive fleshy bulb stretching my cuntal 
walls.

That first entering of a cock into my cunt was always an ever-new thrill, a sensation that I 
never ceased to marvel at.

For all my hatred of My Lord Wyndham for his violation of me, I often thought that I 
should thank him for the doors he opened in my life on sensual pleasure. I could say I was 
truly fortunate, truly wealthy, for I had the best of both worlds.

My Lord St. Pierre grunted, and began to thrust into me, his cock throbbing against my 
suppurating pussy walls. I felt his great man meat stretching. me, opening me to the ultimate 
pleasure in my life.

I closed my eyes, feeling a soft smile of sensuality spread my lips. My whole body quivered
with the pleasure of his cock in me.

My pleasure increased as I felt his great hairy fleshy orbs pressing against my ass cheeks. 
The feeling of his massive balls making contact with my soft ass flesh always produced a shiver
of excitement in my body. I knew that this was the beginning of a wild night of lust, and I was 
ready, primed, you might say, like a flintlock, ready to go off at a moment's notice.

Lord St. Pierre started to move in me. I opened my eyes to look at the juncture of our 
fleshy union. My eyes wandered over the twin hillocks of my breasts. I noted with amusement 
how my cherry-red nipples had puckered with the pleasure the lord was giving me.

My eyes swept past my burgeoning boobs, over my flat, quivering, soft white belly, to 
where my tawny blonde-covered muff was stuffed with the nobleman's prick.

As Lord St. Pierre bucked his hips into me, his thick, dark pubic hair meshed with my light, 
fine forest of down. The contrast of his dark hair against my light pubic hair was erotic to me 
in the extreme, and I never failed to feast my eyes on it with pleasure.

As his great muscular buttocks raised upward, drawing his great fleshy sword out of my 
cunt, I also feasted my eyes on the gleaming juices, which had greased his cock, making his 
rhythmic thrusting in and out of my cunt easy, and pleasurable.

I watched as his, great fuck stick disappeared, its great, gleaming length slowly sliding into
my tight, sucking snatch. It was as if my pussy had devoured his manhood.

I turned my gaze to Lord Raoul. He was standing at my head, his great rod throbbing with 
passion, smiling down at the sexual scene unfolding before him.

He was breathing heavily, I noticed, his lips parted and moist.

As I watched, he mounted the couch at my head squatting down on his muscular 
haunches, his cock throbbing just inches from my mouth.

I licked my lips with anticipation, watching lustfully the opaque gleaming drop of 
pre-come which was drooling from the tip of his piss slit.

I flicked my pink tongue out and snatched at the juices of his manhood, taking in the slimy
gob of juice and rolling it around on my tongue and then swallowing it.

I heard Lord Raoul moan. I saw him slowly lower his cock toward my waiting and eager 
mouth.

Lord St. Pierre was plowing through the wet, lush meadowland of my vagina, his cock 
leaving exquisite furrows of lustful bliss behind.

Yes, it was going to be a most enjoyable evening!

I didn't realize that it would also be the culmination of my long search to find a way of 
righting the wrong that had been done to me so long ago by the man rutting just a few feet 
away from me, with my best friend and confidante!

Vengeance!

That was all that was in my mind.





CHAPTER SIX


Lord Raoul's massive, dripping fuck prod came closer and closer to my mouth.

My pussy was being massaged delightfully by Lord St. Pierre's dork. Lord St. Pierre was a 
very fine nobleman, a recent retainer of My Lord Wyndham, which accounted for some of my 
partiality to him.

He had not been among the ignoble gentry who had so abused a little peasant girl. He 
was cultured and knowledgeable in the extreme, and very suave. He did everything with an 
easy grace that pleased me.

And he fucked me the same way. He took his time. His cock was indefatigable in its pursuit
of pleasure as well as in the giving of pleasure. I always enjoyed being his sexual companion.

He could make me feel like the finest lady, and at the same time make me react like the 
most wanton libertine.

While he was most reluctant to divulge his history, which I would have liked to learn, he 
was always interested in mine. Of course, beyond the barest essentials of the town of my birth,
and my familial history, I told him nothing.

For all the easy social intercourse I had established with My Lord Wyndham, thanks to 
Lady Jenny, I had never forgotten my anger and hatred of him, and I did not want to reveal 
my purposes to anyone, especially to one of his retainers, whose loyalty would then be called 
into question and tested.

As Lord St. Pierre was prying ever deeper into the fleshy cave of my womanhood, I opened
my mouth to receive Lord Raoul's cock.

My mouth closed around the bulbous, dripping head, and I began to suck on it.

"Oh, My Lady, how wonderful...!" the man moaned, as he felt my warm wet mouth close 
around his wondrous male rod.

I moaned against the hard, hot flesh, sucking it into my mouth slowly, inch by inch. 
Through half-closed eyes, I watched his face turn into a mask of unbridled lust as he 
surrendered to the pleasure which my mouth was affording him.

I kept on sucking on his cock, never losing sight or sense of the fact that Lord St. Pierre 
was plugging me deliciously with his massive male fuck rod.

I was of a mind to correct Lord Raoul's term of "Lady," since I wasn't of that breed and 
class. But this was not the time.

Naked, we are all the same flesh and blood, and rutting creatures while our sexuality is 
upon us. I presume that old age is made bearable by the memories of what we did in our 
youth.

Behind the tapestry, Lady Jenny was squealing. I could hear their bodies thrashing around 
on the coverlet, as the two of them suffered the exquisite ecstasy of their first sexual agony, 
locked in each others' arms.

Their noises and the knowledge of what they were doing only incited me to further riot.

I sucked all of Lord Raoul's cock into my mouth, feeling his massive shaft throbbing 
against the tight walls of my throat.

I inhaled deeply of the musky fragrance of his manhood. His pubic hairs tickled my nose 
and mouth, the itching just another pleasurable counterpoint in the growing music of my 
passion.

My body felt as if it were on fire, my blood boiling in my veins, threatening to consume 
me.

I felt my hips run out of control. I started to hump up ardently into My Lord St. Pierre's 
teeming loins, as he thrust into me.

His bucking hips were moving faster and faster, his strokes becoming deeper, harder, 
driving me to the consummation I so devoutly wished.

I ground my hips lasciviously into the hairy base of his cock, mashing my passion-swollen 
pink pussy lips into his wiry hairs.

I felt the life of his manhood pulsing, thrusting in me. I felt as if he were filling me with his 
manly strength as he fucked me with more and more frenzy.

Lord Raoul's cock was throbbing in my throat. I started to swallow frantically, sucking on 
the great hot shaft which was stuffing my mouth.

I started to bob my head up and down on his huge prick, my tongue going mad on the 
incredibly soft skin of his prick.

The sensual contrast between his soft, velvet soft skin, and the hardness which pulsed 
beneath the almost dainty flesh drove me delirious.

Through the pulsing of my blood in my ears, I could hear my own mouth making wet 
sucking noises, as I made love to Lord Raoul's cock, turning my mouth into a veritable suction 
chamber.

I pressed his huge cock between the roof of my mouth and my tongue, and began to 
massage it wetly.

Lord Raoul was not reluctant to respond. Arched over me, his thighs pressed against the 
sides of my head, he began to buck up and down, fucking my mouth.

The sensation was incredible. I was being stuffed in my cunt and in my mouth by two 
comely pricks, two great fleshy hunks of manhood were offering me their pleasure and their 
liquid treasure.

And I wanted it.

I started to suck more and more strongly on Lord Raoul's cock as I sensed the onset of 
Lord St. Pierre's orgasm.

I wanted to feel the both of them coming at once. I wanted to drown in their manly liquid 
offerings.

My body was convulsed with the hot waves of ecstasy which had taken possession of it.

My Lord St, Pierre raged and bucked in my cunt like a wild stallion, and over me, My Lord 
Raoul thrust his wild manhood into my eager mouth.

As the three of us rose to the great precipice of orgasm together, our rhythmic 
movements became harmonious.

As I thrust up onto the hairy loins of Lord St. Pierre, Lord Raoul rammed downward into 
my mouth, stretching my throat and filling my mouth with his great man meat.

The aroma of sex juices filled the ornate, luxurious room, as we thrust and bucked up into 
each other.

"Unhhh, ahhh!" My Lord St. Pierre cried out, his hips beginning to swivel around and 
around on my muff with increasing frenzy.

"Aaaaahhhhh!" cried Lord Raoul, the great yell sounding almost akin to a cry of pain.

As the men cried out, I felt their raging pricks ejaculate at the same time.

I felt Lord Raoul's cock spewing its massive load of thick, slimy come juice into my throat.

I felt the thick juices sliding in slimy streams down my throat and into my belly, and 
eagerly awaited blessing.

At the same time, my cunt became washed in the steaming, frothing juices from Lord St. 
Pierre's cock.

His great rod spewed quarts of thick, hot syrup into my waiting cunt. I could feel my cuntal
muscles clutching ardently at his hard-thrusting prick as it moved in and out of my tight, 
warm, wet fuck channel.

Each outward thrust occasioned another clutching spasm in my cunt, while each inward 
thrust sent a powerful wave of ecstasy rolling through my body.

My pores opened in sympathy with the almost monstrous pleasure which had taken hold 
of me, and my lovely, soft white body poured out its offering of sex sweat.

Over me, the two lords, also dripping sex sweat, rained their manly, odorous juices over 
my body.

The bed was wet and teeming with our juices, as we writhed together in the throes of our 
ecstasy.

I moaned against Lord Raoul's spurting cock as I felt it throbbing and lurching in my 
mouth.

Lord St. Pierre was grunting furiously, as he thrust inward again and again, seeking to 
plumb the most intimate depths of my teeming womanhood.

My body convulsed like a victim of St. Vitus' Dance, as I felt the ponderous rivulets of 
passion rolling hotly through me.

I wriggled and squirmed under the two humping men like a mad woman, feeling the 
orgasm peak to almost unbearable intensity, the searing hot waves of unleashed lust shaking 
my body to the core.

And then with a great sigh, My Lord St. Pierre thrust into me again, mashing my pussy lips 
against his great, wet, hairy groin.

I grunted as I accepted his last offering of gism into the depths of my womb.

At almost the same moment, My Lord Raoul, with a grunt spewed the last stream of scum 
into my throat.

I felt it slithering down my eager throat and into my momentarily satiated belly.

As the two men panted over me, regaining some of their composure after the sensual 
madness which had gripped us all, I felt my own orgasm slide slowly down the glass mountain
of lust, and I finally rested on the bed.

Lord Raoul pulled his cock out of my mouth, and Lord St. Pierre also pulled his cock out of 
my cunt.

The both men, panting and still trembling from the after-effects of their orgasms, lay down
beside me for awhile, resting for the next bout with pleasure.

"You are most exquisite, My Lady," said Lord Raoul.

"I beg to differ with you, My Lord," said I.

"I am no lady, but only a peasant girl, the daughter and granddaughter of peasants."

"You are still a lady!" cried Lord Raoul gallantly, tweaking one of my breasts, "and a most 
beautiful one at that."

"I concur," My Lord St. Pierre said, tweaking the other nipple. "Being a lady is not 
necessarily a matter of birth. It may well be a matter of sensitivity. You are a lady!" the Lord St. 
Pierre said stoutly.

I smiled, happy in their gallantry, and their consideration of me.

Lady Jenny walked around the curtain, which hid the couch on which she had been rutting 
with My Lord Wyndham, from our sight. She carried a goatskin of very rare vintage wine, one 
of the gifts of My Lord Wyndham.

She offered us the container, and we accepted gladly, happy to be revived by the warm 
spirits.

Lord Wyndham came around the portiere also, and the five of us sat on the couch, 
imbibing the wine, and talking idly.

"What are you going to do about your northern lands, sire?" Lord Raoul asked of Lord 
Wyndham.

"I have a missive from my agent there," said Lord Wyndham, pulling on the wine skin. "As 
soon as I find a scrivener who will read it to me, I will make a decision."

"A scrivener?" exclaimed Lady Jenny. "Why Mother Annette reads and writes."

The duke looked sharply at me and frowned.

"A peasant who reads and writes?"

"Peasants always read and write, My Lord," said Lord St. Pierre. "Your maids and 
chatelaines and stewards keep your books. The only reason they do not read your letters and 
journals is that you do not trust them enough with your personal affairs."

I was shocked at the outspokenness of the Lord St. Pierre, although his tone, as usual, was 
suave.

"Why should I trust a peasant with my personal affairs?" My Lord Wyndham exclaimed, 
obviously displeased at the inexplicable brashness of My Lord St. Pierre.

My Lord St. Pierre was unaffected by the irritation displayed by Lord Wyndham. He smiled. 
In the same bland tone he replied, "But My Lord Wyndham, we are all in the care of those 
peasants, who provide for our every need.

"At night when we sleep, our very lives are in their care. Whom do we trust if we do not 
trust our servants? Do we trust other nobles, who lust after our women, and covet our lands, 
and seek our titles to aggrandize their own estates?"

"Are you saying you are not trustworthy, My Lord St. Pierre?" Lord Wyndham demanded.

"Yes, My Lord," Lord St. Pierre said, smiling.

"Oh, folly!" laughed Lord Raoul, seeking to dispel the aura of tension which was now filling
the chamber, "you and your family are known for your honor. Why the very word is 
emblazoned on your escutcheon."

"Honor, my Lord Raoul, is a very relative thing," the Lord St. Pierre said, smiling.

My Lord Wyndham, after a moment's silence, laughed. His laughter was sardonic, harsh, 
and obviously insincere.

"You are an enigma, My Lord St. Pierre! An enigma. The most sterling light in any court you
attend, and my most amusing companion. I will say this for you. You are unusual, and brash, 
but you are never dull!"

"Thank you, My Lord," said Lord St. Pierre. I watched his face carefully. He, apparently, was, 
not one to take flattery or compliments seriously.

He appeared, for all his graciousness, to be totally unaffected by My Lord Wyndham's 
compliment, and yet I knew that Lord Wyndham's retainers would slavishly accommodate the 
duke, just for a glance of his haughty and very, very cold eyes, and consider that meager 
notice flattery of the highest sort.

The more I saw of My Lord St. Pierre, the more I liked him, was intrigued by him.

And he reminded me of someone. I could never quite place who it was. But every time I 
saw him, he evoked a response that I felt I had had before to someone, perhaps in my own 
distant past.

All those prior years now seemed foggy, almost unreal. The only reality was the horrible 
rape I had suffered at the hands of the duke and his retainers, and the great rage which had 
made me swear vengeance.

The duke was regarding me again, keenly. I was becoming most uncomfortable under his 
scrutiny, which was cold and haughty.

I blushed slightly, but maintained my composure, not wanting to succumb, nor be 
victimized by his arrogance.

My Lord St. Pierre's arm had slipped around my soft white shoulders, and he was kneading
one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, softly. I shivered, feeling the goose flesh 
rise, as the nipple tingled with excitement.

I felt my juices rise and flow from my tunnel, cascading warmly, thickly down my tight twat.

My Lord Wyndham abruptly got up, brushing off the soft hand of Lady Jenny, who had 
been cupping his genitals.

He went to his doublet, and extracted a thick letter, on which the seal had been broken.

"Read!" he commanded, throwing the letter into my naked lap.

I gazed at him steadily, with what I hoped was the right amount of scorn, not wanting him 
to think that I accepted his rudeness as my just due.

The more interesting reaction, however, was that of My Lord St. Pierre, whose body, 
pressed closely against mine, stiffened.

For the barest fraction of a second, his thumb and forefinger, kneading my cherry-red and 
puckered nipple, ceased in its gentle motion, his long, well-shaped elegant Fingers also 
stiffening against my flesh.

I assumed that My Lord St. Pierre had also been offended by the duke's boorishness.

With a discernible pause that the duke would take note of, and mark, I picked up the 
letter, opened it, and read it.

Of course my reading was intelligent and easy. I paused and stuttered over none of the 
terms, many of which were in Latin.

In the church school, the boys who were taught these courses, especially the younger sons
who were destined for the priesthood, would be taught their Latin and Greek lessons next to 
us, being taught our simple alphabets and counting.

I had, therefore, picked up a considerable Latin vocabulary, which years of poring over the 
tomes and manuscripts in the convent library had augmented and improved upon.

The duke listened to the missive, frowning. Frequently he stopped me, and asked me to 
repeat certain passages, containing more technical matter. Then he would hold up his hand, 
indicating that I be silent for a moment, while he contemplated the import of the passage.

"Good!" he would then said. "Continue!"

When I had finished reading the letter to his satisfaction, I returned it to him. He took it, 
folded it, and put it back in his doublet.

For several moments, he paced the chamber, frowning, his arms folded across his naked 
chest.

I was fascinated by his nude state, and the semi-erect condition of his cock, and the fact 
that he chose this rather inappropriate moment to contemplate his business affairs!

He finally turned his attention to Lady Jenny.

Holding out his hand to her, he said, "Come!"

Lady Jenny went with alacrity, behind the tapestries, to continue her night of sport with 
him.

I was left with my two gentlemen, both of whom had become very tumescent during the 
preceding reading.

I placed a hand on each of the burgeoning cocks, savoring the warm hot feel of them.

"Shall we change places?" My Lord Raoul suggested.

"But of course. Gentlemen's Agreement!" My Lord St. Pierre laughed, holding out his hand 
to Lord Raoul.

They shook hands on their agreement, and then spread my body out on the couch again.

My Lord Raoul gazed fondly at my pink and gleaming cunt cleft. He ran his hands 
appreciatively over my thighs, kneading gently the soft inner flesh of my upper thighs.

And then he placed his mouth at the entrance to my cunt.

Opening his mouth wide, he covered my snatch with his mouth, prying his tongue into my
deep and dripping tunnel.

"Mmmm...!" he moaned.

"Ahhhh!" I cried, grinding my pussy up into his generous and warm, wet mouth.

He raised his head, and smiled at me, licking my cunt juices off his lips.

"You have a most tasty twat, My Lady!" he exclaimed, as he moved up my body, to place 
his raging cock at the entrance to my cunt.

"Thank you, My Lord," said I, smiling. "I am pleased to please you."

"Aye, that you do!" he said.

I felt his bulbous drooling cock head plug the entrance to my deep fuck cavern. I couldn't 
wait for his cock to stuff me.

I boldly bucked my slender hips upward, impaling myself on the long fleshy nail of his 
manly rod.

My Lord St. Pierre was straddling my face. I reached up, running my hands over the backs 
of his slender, muscular thighs.

They were warm, the muscles rippling.

His cock bobbed above my face.

I could see the drop of pre-come glistening on the tip of his piss slit.

I most ardently wanted to taste that gism of his, to feel his cock plugging my throat.

"Give me your cock, My Lord," I begged him.

He smiled teasingly down on me. He squatted on his haunches, his cock still just maddenly
out of reach.

My Lord Raoul grunted and thrust. His massive peter dug deeply into the furrow of my 
fuck hole.

"Ahhh!" I gasped. I threw my legs up.

My Lord Raoul grasped them, and put them over his shoulders. He moved in more deeply,
his cock slithering into me like a sensuous snake slithers through wet grass on a warm day.

I felt its fleshy length creeping upward, stretching my cuntal walls.

The sensation was marvelous, and I reveled in it, momentarily.

Because of my legs on his shoulders, his cock was prying deeper into my warm wet cave 
than a cock had gone before.

I liked the position, and determined to use it again.

I turned my attention back to My Lord St. Pierre.

He had placed his hands on my breasts, and was kneading them, his cock still bobbing 
lewdly a few inches away from the reach of my mouth.

I raised myself to take his cock into my mouth, and he raised his hips, keeping the massive,
delicious fuck weapon just out of my reach.

I groaned, feeling my desire rise.

Lord Raoul had started to move in me, his cock slithering out, and then thrusting inward, 
powerfully.

My cunt was Stuffed as it had never been stuffed, and I started to buck my hips up onto 
his teeming, pleasure-giving loins, loving every minute of my submission to his fleshy 
instrument of pleasure.

My Lord St. Pierre laughed, as my groaning became more and more intense.

Finally, desperate, I reached up suddenly with my hand, and grasped his thick, pulsing 
cock, and pulled it toward my mouth.

I opened my mouth wide, as a drop of pre-come bled from the tip of it, and dropped into 
my waiting mouth.

"Mmmm!" I exclaimed, licking my lips as I swallowed the precious drop.

His come juice tasted good, warm and strong and musky, like himself. I felt my body grow 
warm and weak with the desire which filled it, bloated it.

I felt the need to come grow on me, as I placed his cock head in my mouth and began to 
suck on it.

Again as counterpoint to the lustful ritual in which I was indulging, I could hear the 
grunting and fierce groaning of Lady Jenny and Lord Wyndham beyond the curtain.

My Lord Raoul's cock was making wet sucking noises, as it plunged in and out of my fleshy
tunnel, churning up the juices that were flowing freely now, pouring out of my fuck hole, 
trickling between my ass crack, and pooling on the coverlet upon which we were rutting.

"Ohhh, Annette!" hissed Lord St. Pierre, as I started to suck in all of his massive schlong. I 
wanted desperately to feel his great. cock stretching wide the walls of my throat, as previously,
he had stretched the walls of my womanhood.

Of all the cocks I had experienced, My Lord St. Pierre's was the best, and my favorite.

His face became covered with a gleaming patina of sex sweat, as I sucked all of his cock 
into my mouth.

I felt his thick pubic forest brushing against my mouth, tickling my noise. I inhaled deeply 
of his musky male fragrance.

The scent of his loins was like an aphrodisiac to me, I began to tongue his shaft, running it 
round and round his throbbing fuck pole, pulling his cock out to the tip, trying to pry my 
tongue into his piss slit, and then sucking his whole cock into my throat again.

I set up a steady swallowing rhythm against his cock, sucking on the head, kneading it with
my throat muscles.

I watched him through half-closed eyes, fully half my pleasure comprising the pleasure I 
was giving him.

I realized at this moment, that both these men were helpless and at my command, and the
very thought raised the temperature of my blood to a raging fever that I would have to 
assuage at all costs.





CHAPTER SEVEN


And so the long, sweet night wore on.

I lost all track of time, as I surrendered again and again to the demands of the virile men 
who were servicing me as much as I was servicing them.

I remember Lord St. Pierre's cock, thrusting in and out of my throat.

I reached behind him, to cup his bobbing ass cheeks, savoring the feel of the rippling 
muscles, which contracted and relaxed, as he thrust in and out of my mouth.

My Lord Raoul was like a raging lion in heat. He thrust in and out of my cunt, sweetly 
abrading the walls of my pussy to a fire that rolled through me until I was screaming and 
writhing wildly under the two men.

My Lord St. Pierre pressed his hands into my undulating shoulders, pressing me to the 
bed, as he fucked my mouth, his cock lurching wildly against my throat.

My Lord Raoul, upon whose shoulders my slender, long, well-shaped legs rested, reached 
beneath me to knead my quivering ass cheeks, his fingers digging into the spongy flesh and 
providing even more pleasure.

I felt as if a great storm were raging in my gut. My cunt spewed its load of juices out of me
in great floods, which coated My Lord Raoul's cock and made the great fleshy sword gleam, as
he pulled out of my cunt, and then thrust inward again.

My saliva drooled out of my mouth, as I feasted on Lord St. Pierre's cock.

His piss slit was drooling more and more freely, as his passion mounted. I could feet the 
fever growing in his cock, felt the cock lurch and distend as he thrust into my mouth with 
greater strength and speed.

His sex sweat poured sweetly on my body like rain, mixing with my own juices and rolling 
onto the bed beneath us.

The room was redolent with the fragrance of our sex juices. I writhed and twisted furiously 
under the two men who were giving me such pleasure.

I felt my whole body and my mind open up. Behind my closed eyelids, great Hashes of 
light went off, like lightning in a summer storm, as my orgasm started to roll through me.

It was like a tidal wave, and we all came together.

The thrusting and grinding of my muff against Lord Raoul's hard-humping loins became 
frenzied, as my cuntal muscles began to spasm.

I screamed against Lord St. Pierre's cock.

"Ahhh!" he cried, unleashing a great stream of thick, frothing juice, which slithered down 
my gulping throat, and landed in my belly.

My thirsty throat drank up every single drop of Lord St. Pierre's come, as my thirsty cunt 
sucked on the cock spewing its load hotly into my vagina.

My body twisted and bucked, as my orgasm rose wildly, until I almost lost consciousness 
from the very intensity of the pleasure which rolled through me in searing waves.

Lord Raoul was crying like a great bellowing bull as he shot wad after delicious wad of his 
scum deep into my up-ended cunt.

Against his shoulders, my legs trembled with the pleasure which seemed to fill my whole 
body with light.

I was ecstatic and beside myself. I felt an enormous sense of power, an enormous sexual 
awakening dawning on me, as the two men gave me the last of their great loads of scum.

Both men collapsed suddenly, falling across my body, their own torsos heaving and 
sweating copiously with the after-effects of the great climaxes they had had.

I lay weak and panting, my cunt still convulsing around the rapidly softening intruder 
which had planted the tree of such delight in its tight, wet confines.

I felt like a flower garden, each part of my anatomy another rare breed which was 
beautiful, and sensually alive, and growing.

My Lord St. Pierre pulled his cock out of my mouth. I licked on it, cleaning off his juices, 
not wanting to release it, wanting more of it.

We lay in post-orgasmic bliss, writhing against each other's bodies.

Lady Jenny came around the curtains.

"I think we should part company. I have a feeling it is close to Matins time."

I had lost all sense of time, and didn't really care, but I rose reluctantly, and put on my 
habit.

We saw the three gentlemen out of the secret entrance, and went through the secret 
staircase to our cells.

There I washed, and fell onto my hard cot, falling instantly to sleep.

I could not have slept more than an hour before I awakened to the crystal bell summoning
us to prayers.

Far from being tired after the excesses of the previous night, I was exhilarated. I felt 
refreshed and happy.

After breakfast, it was necessary for me to take inventory of the stocks in the cellar, 
preparatory to marketing.

We had already planted the wheat and early com, and were hoping for a good harvest.

While I was down in the cellars, the Lady Solere came to me.

"Lady Leticia would like to see you," she said, her face suffused with an enigmatic smile.

"Is something the matter?" I asked, checking off the last of the stores.

"On the contrary, everything is quite well!" the Lady Solere said.

Again I cocked my head slightly, gazing at her quizzically. I could not understand this 
mysterious woman and it excited me to think there was a mystery in this convent that I could 
not fathom! So much was open to me now!

I went to Lady Leticia's study, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," I heard her gentle voice say.

I walked into the room, and was startled to see that she was not alone. My Lord Wyndham
was sitting in a chair beside her desk.

He did not rise, but bowed his head curtly.

"Mother Annette, I believe we have something of importance for you to do," said Lady 
Leticia, motioning me into a seat.

She turned to My Lord Wyndham. "Perhaps you would like to explain."

My Lord Wyndham shifted in his seat, his mouth slightly curled with contempt.

"I have a. daughter. She is now five years old, and quite beautiful. I keep her hidden 
assiduously from sight, as her beauty is such that I fear she will be stolen from me.

"Her mother died in childbirth. It is now time for her to be tutored. I wish her to learn how 
to read and write. I want her intellect and her accomplishments to equal her unparalleled 
beauty.

"It has come to my attention that you read and write, and play the dulcimer; that you have 
a reputation for learning and... err, gentility."

I had to refrain at great effort, the ironical smile which threatened to spread across my 
Ups, as he stumbled over this last word.

And I understood what an effort it cost him to even apply the word to the peasant whom 
he held in such scorn.

I said nothing, merely sat and waited, my hands folded in my lap, my fingers entwined in 
my beads.

"My daughter is fit for a king, and so I intend her career to be. I wish her to have every 
accomplishment known to man, that woman is capable of achieving. I have applied to the 
abbess, Lady Leticia, to permit you to come to be the governess of my child during her early 
years.

"Later, of course, I shall import scholars from all over the world to finish her education."

I looked at Lady Leticia. It was not unusual for the nuns to be farmed out for services they 
could render to various great families around the countryside. But I questioned my being an 
able tutor to a duchess, since I was a common peasant, after all!

"As you know, Mother Annette," Lady Leticia said, "we often serve the families of the great,
while maintaining in the outside world our commitment to our rules and our habit.

"But it is, of course, your choice as to whether you wish to go or not. My Lord Wyndham 
has expressed a desire for your talents, to tutor his daughter. You would be in a unique 
position to raise a God-like woman, to set her young soul on a proper path."

I nodded. "I will do whatever you think is best, Lady Leticia."

Lady Leticia smiled and turned to Lord Wyndham.

"As you can see, My Lord, Mother Annette is not only accomplished, she is 
sweet-tempered and pliable, a very good example for your daughter's emulation."

The duke rose.

"I will send my retainers at six this evening to transport you to my castle. Be ready at that 
time. I do not like to be kept waiting."

The duke left, and I sat all day with Mother Sybil and Lady Leticia, going over the accounts,
informing them what had been done, and what needed to be done.

"You will only be gone a few years, thank God!" Lady Leticia said, when we had finished. 
"I'm afraid you have made yourself very indispensable to this convent, Mother Annette, and it 
is only the consideration of the duke's beneficence in return for this favor, that I am allowing 
you to go."

"Perhaps I can return periodically, to assist you."

"I will speak to the duke about it, and see what can be done. Now go prepare yourself. The
sun sets low on the horizon, and I fear to keep the duke waiting."

I bowed low and left the study, to prepare myself for the long, long journey back to the 
country where I was born.

I had been a long five years, and I had been happy here.

The only reason I had determined to go to the castle of the duke was to effect my plan of 
vengeance.

Of course, Lady Jenny had informed me of the tragedy of this child's birth. The duke had 
wanted a son.

Instead, his wife had died giving birth to a daughter. It was said that the duke was looking 
high and low for another wife, that he still wished to have a male heir.

But he had, it was said, never found a wife to equal the incomparable beauty he had 
married.

Instead, he had doted on the little girl, who, it was said, was surpassingly beautiful, and 
unusually well-developed and intelligent for her age.

He hid her from the view of man and woman alike, and lavished on her every single luxury 
he could.

All this I had heard from Lady Jenny.

The nuns were gathered in the great entrance hall, as I came down with my trunk with my 
meager belongings in it.

Lady Jenny embraced me. My eyes filled with tears, as I returned her embrace and felt her 
kiss on my cheek.

I bowed low' before Lady Leticia.

"I grieve to leave behind this convent, and its lovely inhabitants who have become my 
companions and my family. I promise to acquit myself well of the task that has been imposed 
upon me."

"Well said," Lady Leticia said, placing her hands on my shoulders, and kissing both my 
cheeks.

"I take the place of your mother, and offer you God-speed and a safe and quick return to 
your home."

The rumble of coach wheels was heard, and then a great clanging of the gate bell.

Mother Eustacia ran out to answer it, swinging wide the great iron gate, to admit a 
magnificent coach and four into the yard. It pulled up before the entrance.

A lackey leaped down, and took my trunk up to the seat of the coach, as I bid a final 
farewell amidst a flurry of kisses and embraces.

I bowed before the enigmatic Lady Solere.

"Farewell for awhile, My Lady. I shall miss you," I said, smiling at her.

I was unprepared for the gentle sweep of her arms around my shoulders, and the most 
sincere kiss she planted on my soft, tear-stained cheek.

"And I shall miss you, Mother Annette. Hurry back to us," she said. In her eyes was a faint 
suggestion of tears.

I left quickly, overcome by the warmth of the farewell, and the obvious regret with which 
my fellow nuns parted with me.

I stopped short at the door of the coach. Holding the door open was none other than My 
Lord St. Pierre. He bowed low, an ironic smile on his face.

"Lord Armand St. Pierre, Count of Avranches, Domfront, and Fougeres, Knight of the Order
of the Star, and Chief Protocol Officer of His Majesty the King, at your service, Mother 
Annette."

I stepped in quickly, not wanting my shock and my pleasure to be noticed by my fellow 
nuns. My head was reeling at the list of titles he had thrown at me during his formal 
introduction. I had known him only as My Lord St. Pierre, and assumed that he was a minor 
noble attached to the court of the Duke Wyndham.

Apparently, his scope and political weight were more considerable than I had imagined.

Carefully refraining from looking at him, I gazed out the coach window, to wave a final 
farewell to the nuns. They congregated at the door, waving back, their white linen 
handkerchiefs making a gay spectacle against the gray walls of the great convent.

The vision receded as the coach pulled away, and we were traveling on the highway 
leading to the castle.

I surreptitiously wiped away a few tears, and then folded my hands in my lap.

"My Lady grieves at leaving the safe walls behind her?"

"Yes, My Lord," I said. The count offered me a flask containing wine.

I accepted it gratefully, and smiled at him for the first time. He looked handsome in his 
great velvet cloak, with the ribbons and medals of the various orders to which he belonged 
blazoned upon it.

"You are most impressive-looking, My Lord," I said, as he took a deep pull from the flask.

"Aye, regretfully. Unfortunately, the duke insisted that this be formally conducted."

"You object?"

"I most certainly do. Waving wealth in front of the hungry, and waving worldly 
achievements in front of a quiet order of nuns is not my way of being a man in the world!"

"Oh!" My inadequate reply was solely the result of not wanting to give away too many 
feelings, or plans about this trip. The plain fact of the matter was, however, that I was beside 
myself.

I planned to exact my vengeance as soon as possible, and return to the convent, to live 
out my days in quiet usefulness. And if I were caught at my vengeance, I would fulfill my 
promise to myself at all costs, anyway. I did not care what happened to me after I had 
accomplished my purpose. I was resigned, even to death, if it were necessary.

In spite of myself I smiled.

"May I know the meaning of the smile?"

"No, My Lord. It is not worth your time," I said.

"Ahh! You see what finery and decorations do? You were not wont to hide your thoughts 
from me, My Lady."

"My Lord, I think it will displease the duke, if he were to hear you call me lady."

"For the length of your stay at Wyndham Castle, you will be "My Lady" to all and sundry. 
That is the only title worthy of the governess of the duke's daughter. He is grooming her for a 
royal marriage."

"I pity the child," said I.

"And so do I--and all women born of landed gentry," the count replied. He looked out of 
the window, thoughtfully, a frown creasing his forehead.

The journey passed pleasantly, and quickly.

By early evening, we were at the duke's castle. As we passed through the woods, the count
pointed out the duke's hunting lodge. My heart had been panting in my breast, as we traveled
through familiar points which I knew.

"I know the place, My Lord," I said.

He raised his eyebrows and gazed at me quizzically. Since there was no explanation 
forthcoming from me, he refrained from commenting further.

The duke was at supper when we arrived. I was invited to sit at his table. I, Annette La 
Bruyere, to sit at a duke's table, with other noblemen! But I didn't dare refuse.

After supper, I met the child. She lived in one of the towers with a nurse. The suite was 
elaborate, luxurious beyond all my dreams, and even weighted down as the child was in her 
white satin brocaded gown, she was everything that rumor had painted her.

She was tall for her age, and spoke well. She had a natural grace, and appeared to be 
sweet and docile.

Her hair was a thick blue-black, with an incomparable sheen to it. It hung in gentle waves 
to her knees. Her skin was incredibly white, and her features were so perfect as to give the 
impression they were carved from alabaster.

Her eyes were like a doe's in shape, wide, thickly fringed with black lashes, and incredibly 
green, almost the shade of emerald.

I marveled at the perfection of her hands. They were pure white, and dimpled, her fingers 
long and tapering.

"She is exquisite, My Lord," I said, as I smiled at the beautiful creature now resting in her 
doting father's knee.

I never thought I would see a look of tenderness in the duke's face, but it was there now. 
His arms were fiercely protective as they surrounded the beautifully shaped body of the 
innocent five-year-old.

I had known a girl like that once, in my village. The duke's men had found her. She was 
only four, and they had raped her.

The little creature had gone mad, and remained mad for all the time I had lived in my 
village.

My heart froze in my breast, for I knew, now how to exact my vengeance, for me, and that 
other beautiful little girl!

I rebelled at the thought for a moment, and then steeled myself to it.

"She is not to be violated by the mean gaze of anyone!" the duke said, as he took the child
off his knee, and rose to go. "She has her own private park, where she may ride. It is covered 
by a high wall, and obscured by many trees. There she may exercise and take the fresh air.

"You will teach her everything you know. Your convent will be the recipient of a rich 
reward, and I shall give you everything you need to live comfortably."

I bowed to the nobleman.

"Put the little duchess to bed," I instructed the nurse. "I shall come for her quite early in 
the morning. Goodnight, My Lady," I said, bowing slightly to the incomparable lovely little girl.

She smiled at me, and went willingly with the nurse, while I repaired to my bed chambers 
which were down the hall in the same tower. The room was richly furnished, and comfortable. 
I found there every manner of book and manuscript I could want, both for my own edification,
and that of the child's.

But it was not the books I wanted that evening. It was quiet and solitude to plan my 
vengeance.

Very carefully, I laid out the course of the next several weeks.

I intended to hit swiftly, hard and effectively.

My plans solidified and took shape quickly, as I became thoroughly familiar, over the next 
few days, with the castle and its layout.

I plotted every move, became familiar with the courtiers who hung around the duke like 
moths around a flame, gaining their confidence, and their trust.

I set up a rigid schedule for the little duchess, a combination of fresh air and vigorous 
exercise, and good diet, mixed with hearty portions of intense study.

I forbade the child sweets. Her father over-indulged her in that respect. And I stripped her 
limbs of some of the overly ornate clothing that she wore, preferring that she dress simply, 
and have the free use of her limbs. While the duke initially questioned my decisions, the 
blooming child soon quieted him.

Formerly prone to nightmares, she soon started sleeping sweetly and deeply through the 
night. Whereas she was a victim of frequent stomach upsets and little fevers, these too. soon 
left her.

Her alabaster complexion improved, and so did her spirit. The duke soon left me to my 
own devices with the child, pleased with her progress in her lessons as well as the benefit 
accruing to her of the healthy regimen I had set up.

And soon the day came; the day on which I was going to devastate the duke. It came 
earlier than I expected, due to the confidences of one of the duke's retainers.

He had been talking about the sexual exploits of the band, and he mentioned a 
four-year-old child from my village whom, years ago, they had come upon and raped.

"God's blood, what I wouldn't give for another such creature as that!" he exclaimed.

"Why," I said, feeling my gorge rise, "I know such a child. A woodcutter's daughter who 
lives near here?"

"Where?" one of the retinue, sitting around the table after dinner said. The duke had 
already departed to go to some revel, attended by Lord St. Pierre and Lord Raoul.

"I shall, if you wish, bring her here," I said.

"We must be careful," the retainer said. I had recognized him early as one of my ravishers. 
"My Lord The Duke will want her first, and if My Lord St. Pierre is around, there will be no sport
at all. That man is a veritable monk in his habits."

I smiled, thinking of our wild nights at the convent. He had assiduously avoided me, 
proffering me a distant courtesy when we met, and nothing more.

"When is the duke next from home?" I asked.

"A week from Sunday he will go hunting for several days with a party of nobles from the 
countryside. Some of us will be left here, of course, to take care of the castle."

"Then see to it that you are left behind," I smiled.

My suggestion was met with a low, lewd chuckle from the throat of the retainer.

And so it happened that the following week the duke came to me.

"I am leaving tomorrow on a hunting party. I shall be back the following Wednesday. If 
there is anything you need, apply to the retainers I shall leave behind to guard the castle."

"I will, My Lord," I said.

I planned all my moves carefully, and watched the pieces, like a great puzzle fall neatly into
line.

No one in this castle had ever seen the little duchess. Her various nurses had described her
great beauty, but no one would know who it was they were violating, and I had so arranged it 
that the duke would come home just in time to see his own loyal retainers raping his own 
daughter!





CHAPTER EIGHT


The day I had marked for my final work dawned bright and clear. I took the child to her 
garden, where we rode for an hour. Then I fed her her breakfast.

She was to appear at my door in an hour for her first lesson of the day, and then she 
would eat luncheon.

The day passed in a torment for me, as I eagerly awaited the consummation of all my 
plans.

When her noon mealtime arrived, I fed her a potion I had made, which made her sleepy.

I excused her from her afternoon lessons, and left her in a stupor on my bed while I 
listened to the sounds of revelry from the duke's retainers left behind, as they caroused in the 
great hall.

Their sounds were louder than usual, as they anticipated the great event, the deflowering 
of a little virgin.

I looked down at the incredible beauty of the child sleeping on my bed. Again I was 
tempted to revoke my vow of vengeance. Again I hardened my heart against my softer 
feelings.

I awoke the child as the sun was going down. She was in a mindless stupor, due to the 
effects of the drug, and she would remain in the stupor for many hours.

I took off her richly embroidered gown, and put on a shabby wretched little garment that I
had taken from one of the little servants on the duke's estate.

Then I took the child down to the private gardens, and went out through the back gate, 
walking the child around to the front of the great castle, as if I had been approaching the 
castle from the forest.

I walked up to the massive door which led into the main hall where the sounds of revelry 
were loud, and rapped on the door with the great brass knocker.

It was opened by a little page, who gasped as he saw the radiant, if somnolent beauty who
stood beside me. He opened the door, and stepped aside to let me in.

I stood there, in my nun's garb, and watched the men as silence fell on the hall.

The retainer who had wished for such lewd, unspeakable sport, dropped his silver goblet 
and stepped forward. He looked from me to the child.

"You have spoken truth," he said to me. "She is fairer, even, than that child from the 
village."

With one violent wrenching movement, the retainer's great fists had ripped the garment 
from the child's body.

The child, still in a stupor, and not comprehending what was happening, whimpered 
slightly with fear, but was pliable enough as I relinquished her to the lewd and filthy hands of 
the duke's men.

And then I positioned myself in a corner of the room, while the retainer lifted up the 
marble white, perfect body of the lovely innocent, and laid her on the great long refectory 
table in the hall.

"What is the matter with her?" the retainer asked, turning to me.

"I have drugged her to make her more pliant," I said, folding my hands into the full sleeves
of my robe, taking it all in.

As I watched the retainer grunting, his great hands running over the child's nude body, my
own pussy set up a storm.

But I would satisfy that later. I had plans for the duke as well, if he survived the horror that 
would greet his eyes when he arrived.

I had told the men that he would be home in the morning, since he had delegated that 
authority to me, indeed, had frequently given me messages, and directives for his men, so 
trusted had I become.

With a great bellow of lust, the retainer spread the delicately shaped legs of the little 
creature, and plunged into her tiny little twat. I felt my pussy cream as I watched the little 
body stiffen, remembering my own sexual holocaust at the hands of these very men.

But in her drugged condition, the full impact, I knew, of the unspeakable horror, would 
never register.

Again she whimpered. Her beautiful little head tossed from side to side, as the retainer 
plunged in again, until his cock was buried deeply in her tiny, virginal little slit.

I watched, as her red blood seeped out, covering the hairy base of the retainer's cock.

The other retainers, had all removed their cocks from their britches, and were pumping on 
them. Their heavy, passion-bloated breathing sounded sonorous in the room, which had 
become so silent when I brought the creature in.

The retainer grunted, his muscular ass cheeks rippling with his inward assaults on the 
virginal creature.

In the distance, as the men began to grunt, and call out obscenities, urging the retainer on
in his filthy sexual rite, I heard the faint sound of a horn.

The duke was returning!

Like a mute, white sacrifice on the altar of some obscene Moloch, the child writhed and 
moaned from time to time, while the retainer shot his load into her.

He removed his thick, fat cock from her tiny little twat. I watched the blood gushing from 
her little cunt, saw it staining the massive prick of the man who had just stolen her virginity, 
and my own twat went wild.

He was replaced almost immediately by a second retainer, who grunting, went to work on 
the bleeding little body, his erect cock plunging into the tiny little twat, and pulling out, only 
to lunge inward again.

I heard the sound of horses, pulling up in the great yard, heard the shouted orders of the 
duke, which no one in the room heard, as he called for his grooms.

And then the great door opened, the duke's voice coming through loud and clear as he 
strode angrily into the room.

"Where the devil are my retainers? Go take care of the horses, you blighted, 
good-for-nothing dogs!"

There was a sudden, startled hush in the room, as the men, their cocks all exposed, turned 
to face the irate duke. His eyes widened, and his lips parted in a salacious grin as he spotted 
the white body of the child spread-eagled upon the table, her little cunt still impaled on the 
cock of one of his retainers.

"What is this!" he growled, as he strode forward, "you found a piece of peasant virginity, 
and you did not save her for me... Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!"

The shriek that issued from the duke's mouth was unreal, frightening, as he recognized his 
own daughter.

Behind him, his hunting party had appeared, with Lord St. Pierre and Lord Raoul the 
foremost among them.

The duke had drawn his sword, and with a violent rush, had thrust it through the body of 
the retainer who was fucking his own daughter.

The man stiffened, and fell, his cock, blood-stained and still erect, pulling out of the child's 
body as he fell.

"Kill them! Kill them all!" the duke shrieked in a high falsetto, as he rushed to the table, and
picked up the semi-conscious body of his daughter, cradling her in his arms. He eyes, wild, 
insane with grief traveled over her white beautiful, blood-stained body.

I rose in my seat, as the duke's retainers started to do battle with the men of the hunting 
party, who drew their swords to effect the duke's command.

The duke crouched, rocking his daughter in his arms, while a bloody pandemonium 
ensued in the great hall, whose floors were soon stained with blood.

I noted a singular exception to the tragedy I had engineered: My Lord St Pierre, his sword 
still sheathed, stood to the side of the hall, and watched, his face grave, his eyes traveling from
the duke, to the battling retainers.

The cleft in the duke's solid body of men would never be healed, and I smiled. I started to 
walk swiftly toward the duke, meaning to complete my work quickly.

I quickly ripped my nun's garment down, revealing one of my breasts, and lacerated the 
flesh slightly with my fingernail.

"My Lord," I whispered. The duke looked up at me with the eyes of a madman. "The man 
who wrested your daughter from me, and raped me, is hiding in your cellars. I saw him 
running that way as your party approached.

"Ahhh!" the duke cried, laying his daughter down, and throwing his cloak over her body. 
He brushed past me as if I did not exist, and headed for his cellars, where I wanted him to go.

I followed quickly after him, ignoring the bloody melee which was still going on in the 
great hall. There were, I noted, many bloody bodies lying on the floor. And over in the corner, 
near the still-open door, My Lord St. Pierre still stood.

Our eyes met, as I cast one last furtive glance over the room. I was startled at the keen, 
feral glance of the man's eyes, as he recognized me. There, I thought, may lie my doom, but 
not before I had wrested my final vengeance on the duke.

I followed the duke down the tortuous stairways into the cellars.

"That way!" I hissed, pointing to a chamber near the back of the great cellar. It was cut into
the cliff on which the castle had been built, and it was used for the more obscene revelries in 
which the duke engaged, not to mention for torture.

With his bloody sword still drawn, he rushed into the room. He uttered a great cry of rage 
and pain, as his leg became caught in the snare I had laid for him.

He fell forward struggling, his ankle crushed in the ragged steel jaws of the spring.

I walked in after him, shedding my nun's garb, until I stood before him, my body white, 
flawless and gleaming.

His eyes widened as I pulled off my cowl and wimple, and my tawny hair fell flaming down 
my back.

"Your daughter's virginity for mine!" I cried, exultant. "Your daughter's maidenhead for all 
the maidenheads you have wrested from all the innocent victims from my village!" I cried.

The count tried to reach for his sword. I kicked it out of the way, and quickly grasping one 
of his hands, I shackled it with the iron manacles which I had very carefully laid out the night 
before.

"Do you remember me, My Lord?" I cried, my voice hoarse with the excitement that 
coursed through me. I had now pinioned his other wrist, and ankle in manacles.

"My name is Annette La Bruyere!" I cried, my voice sounding like the trumpet of doom. 
"Five years ago, when I was ten years old, I met you and your noble party in the woods, near 
your hunting lodge. I begged you for help for my grandparents, who had died hideously in a 
great fire. My grandfather was your own gamekeeper, and you laughed at his tragedy.

"Then you abducted me and raped me, you first, and then the nobles who are now 
slaughtering each other up in the great hall. I have waited all these years to wrest a price for 
my stolen honor, and now I have almost finished. But you, too must pay. You, too, must feel 
the cutting edge of humiliation.

"You must know what it is to be buried beneath the scorn of a cruel heart, and you have 
caused my heart to be most cruel. You must know what it is to have to resign yourself to be 
the slave to the whims of someone more powerful than you.

"And I," I said, smiling, as I picked up a steel-tipped whip, "am now more powerful than 
you!"

The duke, with a great bellow of rage, frustration, and terror, struggled mightily, but even 
his strength was not equal to the iron bonds that held him, my victim at last!

I raised my shapely arm over my head, and brought the lash down searingly onto his belly.

He cried out in pain, as the steel barb on the tip of the whip cut through his flesh.

"How does it feel to be hurt?" I cried, as I raised my arm again. "How does it feel to be the 
victim of the lash you have so often applied to others? My Lord, you have killed my father, and
had his body dumped on my mother's doorstep. My mother died of grief. And you raped me. 
You have pillaged my village, made mock of the poverty of my people, have abducted them, 
used them for your own shameless ends.

"Now, feel the pain yourself. Expiate your sins, My Lord. They are many and great!"

I brought the lash down again. I felt the juices rise in my belly, felt my cunt melt with the 
passion which was ripping through me, as I drew his blood.

I whipped him furiously, flaying the flesh off his belly and legs, exposing bone and muscle 
in my great strength, born of the fury I felt.

His screams of rage, his bellows of execration turned into a weeping, bleating pleading, as 
the pain built in him, as he felt his skin being whipped from off his evil body.

But I left his cock intact. And as I whipped him, the demand for life which still remained 
strong in him, transformed his cock from a flaccid piece of flesh, into a raging rod of pulsing 
passion, as I knew it would.

I smiled, knowing well the sexual natures of all men. The duke, humiliated, beaten, helpless
and slave to my will, responded by getting an erection.

My cunt juices flowed hotly, streaming out of my insatiable hole, staining the soft inner 
flesh of my thighs.

I beat him to within an inch of his life, but I did not want to kill him. I wanted him to live 
and remember, as I would hopefully live, and remember for the rest of my days.

I dropped the whip, panting. My body was covered with sweat, from my labors and from 
the great, wild emotions which flooded through me.

I dropped down on my knees, between his bleeding legs, and grasped his massive, pulsing
pole. I straddled his flayed haunches, staining my legs with his blood, and placed his pulsing 
prick at the entrance to my warm and dripping hole.

"You had me once, My Lord. Now, I shall have you for my pleasure!" I cried. I sat down 
violently on his cock, feeling its massive width and length plowing through my cunt like a hot 
knife through butter.

I came immediately, my cuntal muscles gripping spastically at the massive fleshy intruder, 
as it snaked through my wet and willing twat.

But that was not enough. I started to hump up and down on his cock, feeling my cuntal 
muscles clutching at the great pulsing rod, feeling it massage the itching walls of my twat.

As his passion ran through his unwilling body, his wounds spurted blood in little streams, 
which only heightened the raging passion which had taken possession of my body.

I fucked him furiously, coming several times, violently, my juices streaming out of me like a
hot, frothing geyser, matting his pubic hairs, mingling with his blood which I had shed, and 
dripping to the cold stone floor, where the puddles formed rusty colored testaments to my 
final victory.

He grunted and groaned. I watched his great fists clench as he struggled against the 
orgasm which my cunt was sucking out of his unwilling balls.

And then I felt the hot frothing spurt of his gism flowing into my feverish twat, felt his 
juices flaming, mixing with my come cream, and flowing down, to add to the obscene liquid 
riot which was pooling beneath our teeming loins.

I rode him like a wild stallion, crying out my rage, and the lurid ecstasy which was racing 
through me, until with a great cry, he had shot the last of his wad violently into me.

He shuddered, and his cock, still throbbing, started to go flaccid in my womb.

I smiled and lifted my gleaming twat off his loins, and stood over him.

"So much for wreaking your will on your people, My Lord. Live and learn!" Naked, 
trembling, my body still consumed with a passionate heat, I turned to leave, meaning to 
depart from the castle immediately.

I gasped and stopped short in the hallway.

There stood My Lord St. Pierre, with the same impenetrable gaze. He had obviously 
watched the whole proceedings.

"Kill her!" I heard the duke behind me shriek.

I smiled and tossed my head at the count. I was prepared for anything. I stood before him 
in all my nakedness and pride and waited.

The count reached into his belt, and pulled out, not a knife or his sword, but a leathern 
pouch. He handed it to me.

Then he removed his great cloak, with its decorations.

"Put it on," he said, his voice low, and strangely husky. "Then leave here. Go back to your 
convent and wait. You will be lucky if you survive the deeds of this night. Go quickly! Take my 
charger from the yard, and fly!"

Astounded at his response, I ran to do his bidding. The sounds of cries and clashing steel 
reached me from the great hall, as I rushed into the yard, the cloak of the count wrapped 
tightly around me.

I got on his horse, and rode through the night, arriving in the convent just after Matins.

I said nothing to Lady Leticia, except that a great, horrible thing had happened, and I had 
been instructed by My Lord St. Pierre to return to the convent and to wait.

And so it is that I have sat here the whole day long, and into the night, waiting.

My candle gutters and goes out. In the distance I can see a thin band of red and gold, 
signaling dawn.

It will be soon, whatever my fate is. But I am joyous as I wait. My life is fulfilled.





EPILOGUE


As I was joyous before I finished my tale, so I am joyous still--and victorious.

I had laid down my quill and gone to the casement, to breathe in the lovely sweetness of 
dawn, perhaps for the last time.

The door opened suddenly. I turned around and faced Lady Solere.

"Come quickly. There is a coach waiting for you at the door of the convent. Leave 
everything behind but the clothes' on your back, for it belongs to the community."

I followed Lady Solere without a word, wondering just what my fate would be. Obviously, it
was to be fulfilled in secrecy, since it was still an hour until Matins.

I carried, clutched tightly at my girdle, the leather pouch which My Lord St. Pierre had 
handed me. It was heavy with gold pieces!

Lady Solere lifted the great bolt of the convent door, and the two of us stepped outside 
hastily.

There stood the great coach of My Lord St. Pierre, with his charger tied behind it.

"Get in, get in!" Lady Solere commanded harshly.

Once inside the coach, I discerned My Lord St. Pierre, grim-faced. He tapped on the roof of
the coach.

"Fly, my man, fly, and do not look back!"

The coach rumbled out of the yard, and onto the highway, heading far away from the 
convent, and the land where I was born.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"Hush! There will be time for talk later!"

Both Lady Solere, and Lord St. Pierre gazed anxiously out of the coach windows.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, signalling noontime, and Angelus, we were far, far 
away.

Both the count, and Lady Solere withdrew their watchful gaze from the windows, and 
relaxed.

"I believe we are home free!" the count said, patting the hand of Lady Solere.

I remained silent but bewildered.

"We owe you an explanation, and perhaps, an apology," Lady Solere said, smiling at me.

"My Lady?" I asked, my voice trembling.

And so I heard for the first time, the story of Lady Solere.

She was the sister of My Lord St. Pierre, a distant cousin of My Lord Wyndham.

On a visit to their castle, to which we were wending, Lord Wyndham had violated the 
hospitality of his host by raping the Lady Solere, and then defaming her name by bragging of 
the deed.

Lady Solere had been engaged to a courtier in the king's court, who disowned his fiancee, 
and had their contract voided.

Lady Solere had sworn vengeance, and applied for admission to the convent closest to My 
Lord Wyndham's lands. Her brother, too, had sworn to avenge his sister's honor.

Unfortunately, Lady Solere was more highly placed than the other noblewomen in the 
convent, and had difficulty gaining their confidence, as I had so readily gained the confidence 
of Lady Jenny.

Lady Solere had carried on her own pursuits, and watched and waited, knowing of the 
liaison between the Lady Guinevere, and the Lord Wyndham, and so it was her suggestion to 
her brother, to get me placed in the Lord Wyndham's home, to use me for their vengeful 
ends, since I of all the women in the convent knew the most about Lady Jenny, and therefore, 
about Lord Wyndham.

What they had not anticipated was my own need for vengeance. I had taken it, most 
appropriately, into my own hands, and done for them what they had so long sought.

Their long exile from their own home ended, their goal sought and won, they were most 
becomingly grateful to me.

I have become a lady-in-waiting to Lady Solere, with excellent prospects for marriage.


The End
