Abbey of Saint Gall

An anti-masturbation device was taken out of a drawer. It was a phallic leather pouch with spikes on it, which made it impossible to grasp the penis. Dean Philippe moved the torso of the hunched over Dmitri away. Dmitri lethargically yielded. Dean Philippe rustled through Dmitri's pubic hair to pull out the fleshy, pale penis. He pulled the leather pouch over it. A leather string was run around the penis twice and tied to keep it in place. An opening at the tip of the pouch would allow urine to come out.

Dmitri was to fast for ten years to atone. Dean Philippe lead the congregation of monks out of the storage shed to join the Sext, the mess recited at the sixth hour of daylight, noon. Dmitri hurried to pull over his robe and follow the pious monks. The chapel was warm from the daylight. The cold harsh winter climate waned finally. The trees outside the chapel threw shadow patterns on the stained windows, making their colorful play with light even more engaging. Occasionally, a patch of sunlight moved onto Bernard's hand. The bright light was tingling his skin in a wonderful way. The sun patches would leave and Bernard would wait for them to return, while the lector continued his Latin recitation.

The following lunch filled the refectory with monks, who were eager to eat their simple meal. To follow their vow of poverty, the food was grain based with a little meat, unless one was fasting. Today a porridge of oatmeal served as their sole nutrition. Thick serving spoonful loads were shaken on the plates of the monks. With enough chewing, the starches break down into sweet sugars.

Bernard did not have a plate today. He patiently waited for a monk to finish his meal. He would humbly ask, if he could clear his plate. Then, he'd rapidly scratch his fork back and force on the plate to recover any oatmeal slurry that had stuck to the plate. When another monk generously left over a spoonful of oatmeal, he would insist that the monk finish his meal, because accepting their generosity would invalidate his penance. Dmitri was standing in the corner, as he was unable to sit with the fresh skin cuts.

When the kitchen monks collected the dishes to wash them, Dean Philippe collected the monks from the earlier punishment. He prepared them to leave for the village. Bernard walked ahead of Dean Philippe holding up the banner of the abbey. The banner was hanging down from a large and heavy wooden stick. The coat of arms for the Abbey of Saint Gall was a walking black bear with a red tongue on a yellow background. The other monks followed.

There was a little wooden bridge over the creek to cross from the abbey land to the land of the village. Technically, the village was property of the abbey, yet the local villagers' resistance often left them extra leeway. The word quickly spread that Dean Philippe was walking into the village. He was feared by the villagers. They knew his history.

Dean Philippe was the second son to a noble man. As the second son, he would inherit nothing. Only the first born son would become the next lord. Even before the transfer of power, when his father was still alive, he had to be removed from the court. His tyrannical escapades caused a great deal of commotion. His father bought Philippe the position of dean at the distant abbey to ensure his well being and distance. At the time, many leadership positions in the church were filled by extra children of noble people. In the wildest and most feverish dreams, a regular peasant could not expect to work his way from a lowly monk to become the pope.

The village had two story tall buildings that were finished and painted with much pride. The low angle roofs accumulated much snow in winter. The layer of snow would serve as further isolation from the cold. Brown-green wood shingles covered the roofs. White painted facades with wood porches lined the street, until the path became narrower towards the center of the village. Near the village center, the houses stood side by side with no more space for little gardens and porches.

Dean Philippe stopped in front of the house of the black smith. The wall was missing in front of the metal working place, so that the intense heat of the fire could more freely escape outside. A band of villagers lead by the mayor faced the monastery congregation. The mayor had a red ribbon sideways over his shoulder to signify his high office. The young lads and older gray hairs behind the mayor were holding sticks in their hands. Their faces were grim.

"Dean Philippe, what brings you into the village?"

"It is a matter of the Church. Do not dare interfering. Helen has been poisoned by an evil spirit. Make her come out and surrender to the Church's exorcism."

"She looked fine to me earlier today. What is your evidence?"

"Fine, we shall hold a court of justice. Let my monks bring her out."

The monks except for Philippe, who firmly faced the mayor, and Bernard, who held the wavering church banner, stormed into the building. They pushed away the scared father. The noise of a table moving over the wood floor was heard in the building. A young woman screaming for help was heard. A minute later, the first monk appeared out of the blacksmith's house with Helen. His hand grabbed her neck and pushed her in front of him. The young girl was in her early twenties. Curly blond hair fell over her shoulders. Her bosom was ripe as a pregnant hog's. She was barefoot.

"The method of justice is this peace of bread and this peace of cheese. A monk will write the holy prayer on the piece of bread. Then, Helen has to swallow the bread and cheese whole. If an evil spirit possesses her, the spirit will make her choke. The spirit will try to fight against taking in the bread with the holy inscription."

A monk drew the holy prayer on the piece of bread with an ink quill. The bread was wrapped around the lump of cheese. A cross was placed under her right foot. Her father was allowed to hold another cross over her head. Then, two monks held the helpless Helen. Another monk forced open her jaw and stuffed the food inside of her. He put the palm of his hand over her mouth to keep the food inside. Helen slowly chewed with her face hidden under the hand of the monk, except for her wide open eyes with fear.

The villagers were silent. Dean Philippe told the monk to pinch Helen's nose, so that she was forced to swallow. Helen kept chewing a few times without her breath to liquefy the lump of food in her mouth. Yet, her face ran pale and she had to swallow. She attempted and the large lump made her choke. The fear had dried up her spit.

The villagers were tense. They were considering standing up for their own, yet afraid of the power of the church. Dean Philippe seized the moment, grabbed Helen and swiftly turned around. The monks followed him. The villagers followed the monk. One of the villagers threw a hunk of bread at Dean Philippe's head. He turned around shortly, yet realized that making out the culprit in the crowd was impossible. The villagers stopped at the bridge, the boundary of the village. All they could see was the congregation disappearing with Helen into the dormitory of the abbey.

Dean Philippe took Helen into his room. The monks were ordered to stand guard outside. Bernard heard physical struggle inside of the room. Helen's screams and begging alternated. Skin hitting skin was heard. Bernard assumed that the evil spirit was fighting against the dean. When silence settled in, Bernard assumed the exorcism to be over soon.

The door flew open. The naked Helen ran out of the room. Her boobs were heaving. Her butt cheeks were squeezing tight alternately as she ran down the hall. She spat out a wad of white that was too large and sticky for spit. Two monks ran after her. Before she could reach the stairway, the first monk wrapped his arms around her and fell on top of her naked body. The second monk flung himself on top of the pile. Only her bare foot was visible under the brown robes. The foot twisted and moved around to indicate her struggle against the two male monks.

The monks took their waist bands off to tie them around her wrists and ankles. Then, they heaved her onto their shoulders and carried her back into the Dean Philippe's room. Dean Philippe only appeared shortly in the door frame to receive the bound Helen back. He left his room punctually for the Nones, the three o'clock mess. Barnard could quickly peak into the room and saw the naked Helen lying on the bed with the linen sheets. Philippe said to let her go, she had repented.

The chapel was filled with monks that were tired from beginning work early. A heavy mood hung in the group. The monotone Latin liturgy was pierced by flashing images of the naked Helen running down the hallway. Memories of the way her hips swayed penetrated Bernard's thoughts. He struggled to repress the memories of the juicy calves. The worst was his fantasy about what it felt to be the two monks that had tackled her. He imagined her naked body, boobs, hips, back, hands, and arms rubbing against the monks. He imagined their hips, penises, and faces rubbing against her body. He imagined the deep animal like connection the souls had in their struggle. He felt turned on. He felt deeply sick about himself getting turned on at all, let alone a poor helpless woman that is abused. Deep guilt settled into Bernard's heart. He wanted to have his body disappear. The more he tried pushing away those thoughts, the thicker they grew in his head.

By the end of the mess, Bernard was tormenting with guilt and desire. He impatiently endured the slow shuffle of the monks leaving the chapel. Near the exit, he picked up a flogger from the desk that had implements of penance. He began walking towards his cell. The tails of the flogger were folded over the handle. He held them in his hand stiffly as he kept walking. Some of the monks took notice of the sign of sin. Other monks were used to the common self punishment in the abbey.

In his cell of bare rock walls, he took his robe off. He wrapped it around his waste, so that his back was exposed. He kneeled on the hard cold floor. He closed his eyes. His hands were resting with the flogger in his lap. In front of him was the bible. He recited the Latin scripture. A flash of Helen's pink nipple flashed into his mind. It was the moment that she had opened the Philippe's door and froze for a second to seize up the hallway in front of her. Bernard had clearly seen her rosy right nipple. Now, he flogged himself hard on the back. The back muscle spasmed tight from the sharp pain. A moment later, Bernard relaxed and resumed an upright position. He focused on reciting the scripture again.

His reading arrived at a dull listing of family lineage. A whole page of names described the off spring and grand children. Bernard's mind wandered to Helen's spit filled with a white wad. He had looked at it on the floor closer. It was cum. Had Dean Philippe put his penis into his mouth? Or, had the masturbatory cum of Dmitri actually manifested in Helen? He thought of his own cum in the morning. He wondered if Katherine had mystically received the wad of his cum in her mouth. He wondered if Katherine would have spat his cum wad out or recognized him and swallowed. Swoosh, swoosh, he flogged himself until the image of Katherine and Helen vanished.

The point of a flogger was to be relatively mild and avoid drawing blood, at least at first. As the sunlight started waning, the blood was tripping from the flogger as he retrieved it from the blows. He succumbed to the exhaustion and fell unconscious. When the daylight had completely disappeared, the noise and commotion outside roused him. He carefully cleaned the flogger to avoid infecting the next monk, who would use it. He returned the scripture book. Then, he walked out to the front of the chapel.

The monks were in disarray pacing amongst each other. A raucous mob from the village was screaming for them on the other side of the bridge. As far as Bernard could tell, a man and a woman were held captive at the front of the mob. Dean Philippe was at the edge of the monks. He faced a way to hide the fear tearing across his face. Dean Philippe gripped the bible firmer that he was holding and turned around to sternly face the monks. Without saying a word, he walked through the middle of them towards the mob of villagers. The monks tentatively followed him falling into organized rows of two.

From the monastery side of the bridge, he boomed at the crowd to tell him about the raucous. The disorganized screams of the villagers painted the picture that they had caught the man and the woman committing adultery. Neither of them was married. They had been sneaking into a shed together. Yet, the crowd was unsure, if he had managed to penetrate the girl. He was guilty for sure. Yet, if the girl was untouched by the rape, she would be innocent. However, if he had soiled her virginity, she was to be punished equally.

Dean Philippe's judgment was quick. The man was to be tortured and killed by exposure. He was to be buried up to his neck in front of the monastery. Thus, he would be exposed to the elements, rain, sun, animals until he would eventually die of dehydration and starvation. However, the girl needed to be tried. She would be tied and thrown into a deep swimming hole in the creek. If she floated, she was guilty. If she sank like a normal person, her innocence would be proved.

The crowd calmed down with the plan established. The monks relaxed knowing that the village was not out to lynch them. The man and the woman were pushed across the bridge into the strong arms of the monks. A group of five monks took the man to dig a hole for him. Dean Philippe took the woman and led her in front of the monks up the creek. The villagers followed on the other side of the creek. Their lanterns lighted up the night. The monks walked unaided through the darkness.

The side of the creek entered the forest. The path beaten by common usage grew increasingly rockier. Large smooth boulders made the two groups walk like a snake towards their goal. A pale grey sheer rock wall showed the entrance of the gorge. The monks were climbing along narrow rock shelves about twenty feet above the water. The village mob climbed the top of the other side to about fifty feet. The groups moved slowly as each member had to individually find good footing and steady themselves with hands in cracks off the wall.

They came to the bend of the gorge. Here the creek was loudly gurgling beneath them. The bend made the water go in a little circle. The circle had carved a deep hole into the granite rock. Young teenagers would climb the wall here and jump down into the depth. The monks were standing in a long line along the rocky ledge. The villagers were high above them carefully observing the procession. The steep walls of the gorge kept the light of the night sky out.

Dean Philippe tied the woman, who was too scared to move for she may slip and fall onto the rocks beneath and die instantly. He used two waist bands from monks behind him to tie her hands behind her back and her ankles. He'd wrap a few loops of waist band around the wrist. Then, he'd wrap waistband across the rope loops in between the hands to tighten the grip of the rope. The woman looked at the villagers above and the dark monk figures behind her. That moment, Bernard could see the face of the woman. It was Katherine!

After a short prayer, Dean Philippe single handedly tossed Katherine down into the gorge. He threw her spot in the middle of the gorge, where the water was deepest to avoid hitting the bottom. As the water closed over her body, splashes flew high into the air. Rings of waves rang against the waves of the current. There was nothing for a second or two. Katherine's body reappeared at the surface as she was struggling for her live and gulp of air. The water was raging in tumult around her, as she could only wiggle her body violently. Shortly, her head disappeared under the pitch black surface.

The men started discussing, how long they had to wait for her body to be under. Some men worried that it may be a ruse and she was swimming under to full them. They suggested waiting until her strength waned, because she may float back up. Others were concerned about letting an innocent young woman die. Yet, others suggested that should she drown innocently, she would be richly rewarded in heaven. Thus, saving her would deprive her of the bounty.

In a lapse of reason, Bernard jumped after her. He had been one of those young lads spending the summer to find the best rocks to dive from. He had perfected making his body large to slow his speed even in shallow water. The cold water awakened him. He reached the stand still point of the dive. It was a moment of peace under water. Then, he pushed up to the surface. He paddled hard to Katherine's last spot and submerged looking for her.

The crowd was divided among supporters cheering for Katherine's rescue and justice vigilante's demanding Bernard's death. Another monk jumped after Bernard, yet he resurfaced violently screaming about a fracture leg. An enraged villager threw a rock down to the water. The rock hit wall before hitting the water. The clunk of the rock echoed through the gorge.

Bernard reached his hands around in the dark cold water. He could see nothing. It seemed almost futile. He kept reaching. His lungs emptied. He believed in another second and reached somewhere else. He fought for another second and dived a little lower. He didn't want to live unless he would feel Katherine. He dived a little left and reached. His hand found a piece of wet fabric. He pulled on it until there was more fabric to pull on. The next time he reached for a grab of fabric, his hand collided with Katherine's soft body. He wrapped his arms around her belly and pulled her up to the air.

She did not breathe. So, he pulled her body against his body and swam backward to the shallow. Some villagers had returned to the mouth of the gorge and were now scrambling up the bottom of the gorge to reach him. Once Bernard's feet got hold of the sandy floor, she stood up. He pulled her face close to his. His shivering cold lips wrapped around her mouth. The water made her face wet and smooth, as if Katherine were ten years younger. He blew air into her. She awoke in his arms. He removed her bonds.

They ran further up the gorge. The villagers from the mouth of the gorge pursued them hard. Their foot steps and calls echoed up the gorge. Katherine's long wet dress made climbing over the rocks hard. Big boulders filled the gorge with the creek gushing in and around them. Bernard knew that ahead was a birch tree with long roots that reached down to the floor of the gorge. The roots were perfect handholds to escape it. Only a few of the teenagers knew about it, because only the daring scrambled this far into the gorge during their summer frolicking.

Katherine and Bernard were panting hard. They were hot from the physical work and shivering from the cold wet clothes. Adrenaline was running through their blood. They inhaled strong and clear. The gnarled root of the birch tree was next to them. Bernard sent Katherine to climb first. That way, he could move her feet from one foot hold into the next. If one knew all the little hidden crooks, it was rather easy to climb up the sheer granite wall.

They were half-way up, when the villagers appeared with their lanterns. The crowd was mad from the hardship of scrambling over the rocks at night. They had all bumped their feet and scratched their hands. They wanted revenge for their little pains. They scrambled straight past the two. The two were holding onto the birch tree root. Bernard held Katherine's calf. Water dripped down from their clothes. Their muscles were shaking from holding their weight on the same foot without moving. The fear and mild hypothermia stole away their thoughts as they waited for the villagers to appear further away.