Dominant Nuns

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Copyright Oggbashan September 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

The house seemed like a bargain. It was solid, in our town centre, close to all facilities, with three bedrooms, extensive cellars, a reasonable sized garden and off road parking for about four cars. The obvious downside was that it was in the conservation area and locally listed. Repairing and maintaining it would be more expensive than a modern house outside the conservation area, but I couldn't afford those, not yet. Maybe I might be able to in two or three years if my career progressed, but I needed somewhere to live now.

If I had rented I wouldn't have the money to buy because local rental costs were so high. I had an inheritance from a great-aunt that would just cover the purchase cost which was fortunate because nobody would offer a mortgage on it. I would need a bank loan for the other expenses but could probably pay that off in three years and be a freehold owner of a useful property.

I discounted the other warning against it even though the estate agent was very clear about it, surprisingly direct. The house was supposed to be haunted and several sales had fallen through because of the ghosts.

The owners, who had inherited from an elderly bachelor uncle, had reduced the price significantly because of the haunting. At the reduced price I could just afford it. The old bachelor, the last occupant, had frequently said that he liked having resident ghosts.

I didn't believe in ghosts and I had never met anyone who had actually encountered them but since the old boy hadn't seemed bothered by them, I didn't see that I would be. I hoped that it could be a home for me and my on and off girlfriend, Sasha.

I liked the address: The Nunnery, Nunnery Street. The Nunnery was the only address in the short street, completely occupying one side. The other side was a blank wall, the side of a large store. The Nunnery had double yellow lines allowing free access to my off road parking. The other side was marked parking bays.

It had never been a real Nunnery. It wasn't old enough. What it had been was a brothel until it was struck by lightning in the 1860s. The roof had collapsed, killing the four women who had been sleeping on the upper floor. The roof had been repaired and the building had been used as a clothing factory until the 1940s when the old boy had bought it and converted it into a house. He had installed lightning conductors on the high chimneys and although it had been struck by lightning when he was resident, there had been no damage.

During my first night in the Nunnery I was visited by the four ghosts. Whether I was dreaming or not I don't know, but the four women seemed to sit on the edge of my bed, looking very solid and very attractive. They wanted the house used by a couple who would have sex and that they could join in. I wasn't sure. The four ghosts hugged me to their breasts almost falling out of their Victorian style evening gowns and my doubts disappeared in very desirable flesh swamping me.

The ghosts had revealed that Sasha wanted me as much as I wanted her. She had been doubtful because I had been still living with my parents, Now I had a home of my own she was much more interested and willing. I had asked Sasha to marry me. She accepted promptly. Now, after our honeymoon we have moved into The Nunnery.

Cecily was the most prominent ghost, the most talkative and demonstrative one. One Sunday evening, while Sasha and I had collapsed, exhausted, into bed after a hard day installing kitchen units and appliances, Cecily knocked on the bedroom door before walking through it.

"I can see you are tired," Cecily announced, watching our faces fall because Cecily's appearance usually led to us being persuaded into energetic sex, "and useless for any of my games tonight, so I've come to tell you a bedtime story. It's a ghost story, of course, because all the participants are long dead even if they still visit to haunt The Nunnery from time to time."

Cecily vanished temporarily, re-materialising naked underneath us in the bed. She pulled our bodies so that we were lying face to face on her torso. Her arms wrapped around us.

We relaxed. Resting our heads on Cecily's large breasts was very comfortable even if in our imagination she seemed more like a giantess than human size, and her breasts impossibly large even for a giantess.

"Are you comfortable?"

We were. Cecily's breasts adapted to her mood. Tonight they were soft, warm and cuddly, very suitable resting places for tired humans. Our two heads were both comfortable in her massive cleavage. She waggled a finger. The bedside light switched itself off. We knew that Cecily would no longer be visible. Creating an illusion of solid flesh took effort from her. In the dark we could still feel as if she was solid, but if there was light we wouldn't see anything of her.

"Then I'll begin. As you know, The Nunnery was a gentlemen's club and I was one of the staff. The club members were selected very carefully because the club's activities had to be discreet. In those days it was acceptable for a gentleman to visit a high class bordello, but he should not talk about it. The Nunnery was much more than a brothel. It was a club with political and business connections.

The members had agreed that nothing experienced, seen or talked about here was to be mentioned outside the premises. Remarkably there were very few breaches of that rule and those few were for good reasons.

The existing members were very choosy about who could become a member. One black ball would bar someone. But even that wasn't enough. A member could enjoy the facilities and the attentions of the staff, but they would also discuss private and really secret matters, make deals, plans, even plots. However well a member or members might know a potential member socially, they didn't know how he might react under pressure. Could he keep a secret was the important question.

The owners and staff decided that prospective members would have to pass an initiation test. Tonight's story is about one prospective member's ordeal.

You, Ralph, have the part of the prospective member."

"Me?" I asked. "I'm tired, exhausted, worn out..."

"That won't matter, Ralph" Cecily replied. "All the activity will be in your head, not your body. This is a ghost story, not real life. Sasha will have a role too. I'll use your names, not the names the real people had. Are you ready? Then I'll begin."

I felt myself as a nineteenth century gentleman who had just arrived in his carriage under the portico at the front door of The Nunnery. I was greeted by a formally dressed man who looked like a Butler. I knew that he wasn't. He was Johnson, The Nunnery's resident manager. He was wearing a badge on his chest that read 'Johnson'. He waved a hand. A footman came forward to take my hat, cape, gloves and cane.

"Come this way, Mister Ralph, please," Johnson said.

I followed him through the front door. The large entrance hall was imposing but we turned right through an inconspicuous door set into the wall of the short passage between the door and the hall. Beyond it we descended a short staircase to the basement level and Johnson ushered me into a plainly decorated room. The only furniture was a wooden table and four chairs. Johnson pulled out a chair for me to sit on. He sat down on the other side of the table.

As the modern Ralph this seemed very odd. I was aware of my body resting on Cecily with Sasha snug against me. I was also sitting on a hard chair in a basement room facing someone who had been dead for over one hundred and sixty years. I felt Cecily's hand stroking my hair.

"Live it," Cecily whispered. "Believe you are there, then. You're not and nothing that seems to happen can affect the real you. But if you live it, you'll enjoy yourself -- eventually."

I wasn't sure about that word eventually. But I trusted Cecily. I let myself experience being in that basement room. Johnson reached into a drawer on his side of the table. He produced a wooden label attached to a silver chain.

"Mister Ralph," he said, "this is your badge as a potential member of The Nunnery. You will wear it at all times."

He turned the label over. It read 'Postulant'.

"All our members wear a badge around their necks whenever they are here. That badge shows their first name or their assumed name. Even if they are known and recognised by other members they are NEVER to be addressed by anything other than the name on that badge, not their real name, nor any title. If you become a member you will be Ralph, or whatever assumed name you choose. Never Mister Ralph, nor Lord Ralph, nor anything but an unadorned Ralph. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Johnson. I understand that. I'm Ralph."

"No. You're not. You might be, in time. What does your badge say?"

"Postulant."

"And that's what you are, and how you will be addressed. You haven't earned a name at The Nunnery yet. You are 'Postulant'."

"If you say so."

"I do. It is important that you tell no one your name. While you are here yet not a member you are nothing but Postulant. You have to keep your own name a secret. I know your real name, your title, and many things about you but I will not reveal any of that to the members. Those who have proposed you obviously know. The committee knows. But if you are accepted they will never mention anything about your real identity."

Johnson handed the badge and chain to me. I hung it around my neck so that the label 'Postulant' was clearly visible.

"There are several parts to the acceptance process for potential members, Postulant. The first is to agree to keep your own name secret and while here be just Postulant. The second is to keep yet another secret. In itself it is a meaningless sentence. That sentence is "The sheep are swimming the mountain". You must not tell anyone what the secret sentence is. Anyone. Do you understand that, Postulant?"

"Yes, Johnson. I understand that, even if not the sentence."

"It is deliberately meaningless. You would not say it in a normal conversation. The third part is to assume the clothing of a postulant. Your present clothing is in some way an indication of your wealth and status. As a postulant in The Nunnery you have no belongings and no status. You are the lowest of the low, trying to become qualified to become a member of the order of The Nunnery. I will leave you shortly. You will be joined by the teacher of the novices who will explain what a postulant has to do to become the next higher stage, a novice. It is vital that you remember that you must keep the two secrets, your real name and that meaningless statement.

When the door closes behind me, please strip yourself naked, including your shoes, hang your postulant badge around your neck, and stand at the table with your back to the door. The teacher of novices will be with you in about ten minutes. Oh, and one last warning. You must not leave this lower level of The Nunnery unless you are escorted. Do not climb any stairs!"

Johnson left me, shutting the door. I stripped myself hurriedly, folding my clothes as neatly as I could on a chair. My valet would have folded them much better. I stood at the table and waited. I was cold.

The door opened behind me. I shivered in the draught.

"Turn around Postulant," a female voice ordered.

I turned. There was a young woman dressed as a Nun, in black and white clothing with her head covered. I had an instant erection that I covered with my hands. She might be dressed as a nun, but no nun I had ever seen had such a tight fitting uniform. Her breasts were prominent under her clothing. The black rope belt around her waist showed that she was very curvaceous. Her badge said 'Cecily'.

"Don't hide that! Postulants come here to use that, if accepted. Show me!"

Reluctantly I pulled my hands aside.

"That's better, Postulant. You're saluting me as you should. I'm the teacher of novices but you're not yet a novice. You should dress as a Postulant. Put your badge on the table until you are dressed."

Only then did I notice she had a mass of material draped over one arm. She placed it on the table.

My erection became painful as she helped me to dress. She pulled a long shift down my body that covered me from shoulders to ankles. She added a grey sleeveless tunic that was nearly as long and a white tabard that fell to my knees. She tied a natural colour manila rope around my waist.

"That unbleached rope shows your status as a postulant. If you become a novice it will be changed for a white one. Only nuns wear a black rope belt, Postulant."

I became more excited as she fitted my headdress which was a close-fitting white hood laced at the back. The hood covered my head but left and oval opening around my mouth nose and eyes. Her hands around my head were soft and delicate. Her perfume was delicious. She wasn't a nun in a regular order. She was too obviously a very sexy young lady.

"Put your badge back on."

I hung it around my next with the label showing.

"Thank you. You are not allowed to speak until I say you can. You should keep your head lowered, your eyes down, and move at a decorous pace. I will make sure you do all of that."

She dropped to my feet and tied rope around one ankle before tying it to the other with only a short piece between. When she dropped my uniform dress that restraint was hidden.

She pulled my tabard aside, crossed my wrists in front of me before tying them together and to the rope around my waist. She replaced the tabard. My tied wrists were as hidden as my impeded ankles.

"To make sure you do not break the rule about speaking I'm going to fit a training aid, Postulant. Open your mouth."

She pushed a padded gag into my mouth. It was pear-shaped and attached to a wide cloth scarf. She knotted the scarf behind my head. The gag swelled as the moisture in my mouth met it. It wasn't uncomfortable but very effective at filling my mouth.

"Now your head veil..."

She covered the white hood with a large starched cloth. I couldn't look to either side, blinkered like a horse. I could only see straight ahead. If I turned my head I was looking at the inside of the headdress. The back of that was laced to the top of my tunic's neck. There was a pair of cords lying across the centre seam. The teacher of novices pulled those cords forwards and down in front of me.

"Bow your head," she ordered.

I bent my head forward. She tied the cords to the rope around my waist. I couldn't lift my head from the bent position. The top and side of the starched cloth prevented me from looking anywhere except at the ground a couple of feet in front of me. I would have to walk very carefully because I would be unable to see any obstacles until I was on top of them.

"Kneel, Postulant," she ordered.

That was difficult. She had to lift part of my nun's habit so that I could kneel down. My vision was even more restricted as my head was lower. I could see less than a foot in front of my splayed skirts.

"Stay like that, Postulant, not that you have much choice. I'll leave you. In a few minutes I'll send a novice to you. Her task is the next part of your initiation. You should do everything she tells you to do."

Her hand caressed the top of my headdress, almost like a blessing.

"I hope I will see you later. If I do, you'll be ready for the next stage. Good luck -- and keep silent."

Silent? Gagged as I was I had no choice. I remained kneeling, studying the flagstone which was all I could see.

I heard the door open and soft footsteps.

"Hello, Postulant. I'm the novice sent to take you further."

I recognised that voice. It was my Sasha.

"You can't see much, but you can see these..."

The lower part of a grey habit covered the flagstone. She moved forward and a very attractive cleavage filled my vision. She pressed on my head. I toppled forward, unable to help myself, and my nose was between her breasts. She hugged me tightly, so tightly that my nostrils were flattened by soft breasts. She held me for a few seconds before letting me breathe again.

"You've met me. Now stand up and we'll move on."

Sasha had to help me to stand up. She swung her white rope belt to the back of her waist and tied the loose end to the front of the natural coloured rope around my waist. I could see her badge labelling her as 'Sasha'.

"You have to follow my bum," she said, "that way you won't bump into anything except me. Come on."

All I could see was Sasha's tightly outlined buttocks swaying as she walked. We left the room and went along the corridor into another room. Sasha stopped. The top of my head gently impacted against the back of her headdress.

"Here you assume the position for praying. You might need to pray for help if you are going to succeed."

Sasha untied her rope from me before releasing the cords pulling my head down.

"Keep your head down!" she ordered. "Kneel!"

Again I needed help to kneel. I heard her drag something heavy across the floor. A wooden base came into my limited view.

"I'm going to untie your arms. When I have, drop them to your sides. I will move them into the correct positions. Just let me do that."

She untied my wrists. I dropped them to my sides. If I hadn't been gagged silent I might have yelped with the pain of the returning circulation.

"Shuffle forward and rest your knees on the base. I'll guide your head with my hands."

I moved forward and lifted my knees one by one into grooves wide enough to accept my bent legs. Sasha pulled my chin upwards slightly. I could see a thick wooden pillar. She moved my head so that my neck was resting in a semi-circle cut out of the top of the wooden device.

She took each arm one by one and pulled them to the sides of the pillar where she locked my wrists in place. The restraints were enough to prevent me removing my hands but were not tight. She locked similar restraints around my ankles. I was now secured to that wooden structure. Although my head and neck weren't fastened, the other restraints meant I could only move my head an inch or so away from the wood.

"I'm going to strip everything off your head, Postulant. Remember! Stay silent."

Sasha took my headdress off, unbuckled the strap holding the gag, gently eased the sodden gag out of my mouth and finally unlaced and removed my hood. I could see her clearly. She was wearing a grey habit that was cut low to reveal most of her breasts. She had a close-fitting white hood like the one she had just taken off me, but no starched headdress. She was smiling at me.

I looked at the wooden structure I was clamped to. It seemed to be a high-seated chair. My face was in the centre of the front of the seat.

"I know you can tell what this chair is for, Postulant," Sasha said. "You are positioned exactly right to eat a novice, and that's what you will do very shortly. If you don't want to, or if you want to stop the initiation process, which has the same result, all you have to do is say your name or the secret sentence. You are still supposed to remain silent, but if you break that now, unless you reveal a secret, all that will happen is you will be punished, possibly like this..."

Sasha picked up the hood she had taken off me and covered my mouth and nose. She pressed hard. I couldn't pull away as she stopped my breathing. She held the hood in place for no more than a few seconds, long enough to make me aware that I was helpless.

"Before you eat me I have to explain something about this Gentleman's Club. You might think it is run by the gentlemen. It isn't. It is run by the female staff, the nuns and novices. It was the idea of the founder members, who of course are gentlemen. If gentlemen ran the club, we nuns and novices would be little more than common prostitutes available to the club members. But if we women run the club and decide which member might receive sexual favours from us, we are not prostitutes but independent ladies. We have to be wooed and persuaded to offer sex. We can punish members for lack of respect and we ultimately have a veto or the power to expel a member who doesn't obey us."