Taming the Duchess de Montfort Ch. 04

A scraping noise caused her to open her eyes, and she saw two men lifting a table. As they moved the table closer, the young nun noticed something that started her heart pounding in her chest. The top had a raised lip all around the edge, and a hole at one end that looked like a drain. As she realized the terrifying implications of such an arrangement her knees started to tremble and she thought she would faint again.

As they slid the table between the posts, hands lifted Sister Dominique and placed her on the surface. She was lying flat, her arms still bound to the posts on either side, while the six brutes stood around the table and studied the helpless naked captive before them. She pressed her knees together, clenching her thighs tightly. When one of the men placed a bucket under the drain, and another brought over a tray on which lay several steel blades that appeared to be razors, she began to cry. All her imaginings and prayers had been the idealized fantasies of a sheltered young girl. Now that she was confronted with the possibility that she was about to suffer a martyr's fate, perhaps horribly butchered for these monsters' amusement, her courage began to waiver. No longer sure of how much pain she could endure, she prayed that her death would come quickly lest she falter and renounce her faith.

Expecting the worst, the pretty blue-eyed nun was not prepared for what happened next. A man approached the table holding a mug in one hand and a shaving brush in the other. He stirred the brush around in the cup and brought it out covered in thick lather, which he shook onto her belly, right over her navel. She jumped at the feeling, causing her pretty breasts to bounce and jiggle. Then he stroked the brush over her middle, spreading the lather.

Suddenly someone grabbed her ankles and held them down, while another man with a brush began to spread lather on her legs. Soon four men were working on her with soapy brushes, spreading the wet foam over her tingling skin. She was puzzled and wondered why they were doing this.

Sister Dominique had been prepared for torture and pain, but she hadn't expected the soft prickling feeling of the shaving brushes. The men used the wet fur of the brushes to stroke and stimulate her skin, as they covered the puzzled nun with shaving soap from her neck to her ankles. They lingered over every inch, covering her torso as well as her arms and legs, and the tickling when they coated her underarms was maddening. When the furry bristles caressed her nipples she could not suppress a whimper, and they spent long minutes stimulating the sensitive tips of her breasts.

The man holding her ankles then spread her legs wide apart, and although she resisted, it was useless. Her thighs parted, and her virgin sex was revealed to the buccaneers. The young woman's silky pubic fur was sparse and did not fully cover the lips of her sex, so the men could clearly see the tight slit between her legs. They spread the soap on the insides of her soft thighs, working their way closer to her untouched womanhood. When the soapy brush touched her pussy she gasped at the sensation. Two men were using brushes on her crotch, one of them stroking the crease where the soft skin of her inner thigh met the outer lips of her virgin pussy, while the other gently spread the foam on her labia. When the lips were thoroughly lathered, they used the tips of the bristles on the center of her pussy, stroking up and down along the tight slit. At the same time, the two others were stroking their brushes over her hard nipples and puckered aureoles.

The unwelcome stimulation combined with the deep shame she felt at being exposed to the eyes of these men caused confused feelings in the pretty sister. Despite her desire to resist, the innocent girl's pussy began to respond against her will. As the inner lips filled with blood they began to swell and blossom open, revealing the moist pink interior. The rosy flesh of her sweet pussy glistened with her reluctant wetness, and the men could see the tight virgin entrance and the delicate little clit peeking out from the tender folds at the top of her slit.

While the two continued to hold her legs apart, the other four put down the brushes and took up the razors. Attached to the side of the table was a leather strap, and one-by-one they honed their blades. Terrified and puzzled, Sister Dominique looked up at their cruel faces and said in a whisper,

"Wha...what are you going to do?"

"We are going to shave you, darling. It's part of the preparation," answered the one-eyed leader.

"Preparation? Preparation for what? I beg you to let me know what fate you intend for me, sir," she pleaded. "You should know my faith is strong and I will endure any suffering for my devotion to the Lord."

"Ah, my darling, your faith is of no concern to me, I assure you. You are going to be trained as a slave and sold at the market in Port Royal," he said.

"Slave? Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed. This was not what she expected at all; to be sold into slavery was not a martyr's fate. "But...why...why...?" she stammered as she looked down at her bound, lathered body, unable to find the words.

"Why the shaving?" Hutton prompted.

Dominique nodded.

"A properly trained and prepared sex slave must have all her hair removed. The buyers want to see that you are clean and pure," he said.

Dominique's mouth opened, but a pitiful croak was the only sound she could manage in response. The men in the room burst out laughing at the poor girl's shock on learning her fate.

"What did you think when you saw those other women? Wasn't it obvious what they were being trained for?" the Captain said.

"Non...non...je ne savais!" she gasped, lapsing into her native tongue.

"Well, maybe you didn't know, but now you do," he laughed.

"Je ne peux le faire! Pas moi!"

"On the contrary, my girl, you can and you will do it. That was the agreement we had. If you fight me, we will return to the convent and choose other sisters to suffer for you," warned the buccaneer.

Dominique was horrified at the revelation. This was worse than what she had imagined, worse than the physical pain she was prepared to endure. She expected to be tortured for her faith, to be tested by God through martyrdom. But to become a sex slave, to spend her life in lascivious debauchery was a fate worse than death. She would rather die a pure woman, devoted to God and her calling, than surrender her body to lust. But that choice was not open to her, because under no circumstances could she end her own life, and if she did not go willingly, if she tried to fight these demons, they would return and hurt the other sisters. The whole meaning of her sacrifice had been to save the convent.

Then it began to dawn on her that this was the sacrifice that God had chosen her for. It had been presumptuous of her to assume that she could know God's will. Why did her calling have to be physical torture? This path was one of even greater suffering, a fate worse than torture, worse than death. She would suffer not a few hours of excruciating pain followed by sweet death, but months or even years of sacrifice and humiliation for her faith. To save the convent she would be subjected to a life of degradation and defilement, but it was a sacrifice she must make for God. She could not begin to imagine the torment she would endure, the unspeakable debasement of her body for the love of God.

"So be it," Sister Dominique said, resigned. "You may possess my body, but you will never own my soul. That belongs to God."

Hutton picked up a razor and said to her, "If I were you I would stay very still now. If you move you may get that pretty skin cut, and we wouldn't want that, would we, darling?"

As the group of men looked down at the bound girl, her lovely naked body covered in lather, three others took up razors. Slowly and deliberately they began to scrape away the soap, removing her already sparse body hair at the same time. Two of them methodically stroked the sharp blades along the front of her legs, then lifted her feet into the air and applied more lather to the backs. At the same time the other two shaved under her arms, then proceeded to remove the rest of the lather from her arms and torso. They even used the razors to clean off her tender breasts, although there was no hair to remove there. But the necessity for her to remain absolutely still and passively submit to the procedure reinforced her subservient role.

Finally they were ready to shave her most intimate area, her virgin pussy. The French girl whimpered as they held her legs wide apart and back, and very carefully Hutton began to remove her pubic hair. He worked on her mound and then down along the plump lips, pulling and stretching the skin as needed and stimulating the captive nun against her will.

Sister Dominique was confused by the feelings she was experiencing. The disgrace of being naked and having her body shaved in front of these men should have disgusted her, but instead she felt strange stirrings. It was almost like the feelings she had when she prayed in her special way, almost like the feelings before she had one of her 'ecstasies'.

When Hutton finished shaving her sex one of the men took a sponge from a bucket of clear water and began to wipe her down. The soapy water ran off her smooth skin and down the drain at the end of the table. When she was washed clean, the chains that bound her arms to the posts were unhooked and they turned her over. She lay face down on the shaving table as the men repeated the humiliating process on her back and bottom cheeks, despite the fact that there were hardly any hairs on those areas.

When they finished, and again rinsed her clean, a cloth was used to pat her dry. Lying face down while they tended to her, she almost forgot that she was a captive, destined for a fate worse than death; she began to feel as though she were being pampered and coddled. This delusion was quickly dispelled when her hips were grasped and pulled up, so that she was on her knees, her bottom in the air, her hands gripping the front edge of the table and the side of her face resting on the surface. It was the same position she had assumed many times on the floor of the chapel when at prayers, a posture she had always associated with pious devotion. Now she found herself in the same position of total humility, but this time she was naked, her most private parts shaved and completely exposed to the evil men who held her life in their hands. Only the fact that her cowl had fallen across her face and she was unable to see them made it a bit more bearable for her as she murmured Hail Mary's to herself.

Her shame became overwhelming when Hutton grasped one of her bottom cheeks in each hand and spread them apart, exposing not only her shaved pussy but also her tight, puckered bottom hole to their gazes. Then he placed one thumb on each of her hairless plump pussy lips and pulled her open, revealing the wet center of her womanhood. The buccaneers could see her delicate little clit peeking from its fleshy hood, and the tight hole of her untouched cunt.

"She is indeed a virgin," said the Captain, pulling her hole open harder and showing them the fragile hymen that protected the entrance to her body. The kneeling nun whimpered with the humiliation. The rude use of her body made Sister Dominique realize that this was in fact the suffering she had been chosen to endure.

Men, she couldn't tell how many, began running their hands over her shaved behind, pulling open her pussy lips, touching her tight ass pucker. She was being made to endure this demonic debasement of her body, was being tested by God, to see what she was willing to suffer for His love.

That test became stronger when one of the men brushed his finger over her erect little clit. She suddenly knew for certain that this was God's will, that she was doing the right thing, because at that moment the young nun knew that she might be touched by an ecstasy. She was breathing harder and squeezing her belly tightly, just as she did in her special prayers.

But suddenly her path was interrupted when the man stopped rubbing her button, and instead smacked his hand down hard on her ripe, round ass cheek. She could not suppress a shriek, and another when he smacked her other cheek harder. Dominique was praying as fast as she could, not for God to save her from this horrible fate, but thanking Him for choosing her for this task.

The men were running their hands over her raised behind as if checking the quality of their work, squeezing great handfuls of her flesh, and repeatedly smacking her bottom until it was deep rosy red. Her shaved pussy lips were coated with her copious juices, which were smeared over the insides of her silken thighs.

Light suddenly flooded her face as Hutton pulled her cowl aside. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring up into the faces of the worst group of outlaws that she could ever have dreamt up - truly selected by the Lord to wring from her the most glorious and holy torment.

The Captain stood over the prostrate sister, who looked up with tears in her blue eyes. In his hand he held an object she knew well, its familiarity almost affording her some comfort. It was a votive candle, just like the hundreds Sister Dominique had lit in the convent. This one was already lit, but she knew it could not be for any holy purpose. Her fears were confirmed when he held the candle high over her deeply arched back and slowly tipped it over, allowing the molten wax to drip onto her smooth skin. It was hot enough to cause her considerable discomfort, yet not hot enough to burn her.

"Oh please, stop. It hurts! Please stop, this is a sacrilege," whimpered the kneeling girl.

He ignored her cries and continued to drip the wax onto her back, moving down until the hot droplets were falling on her round, raised ass cheeks.

"Oh, God, no! Not there, it hurts, it hurts!"

Although she loudly protested both the torment and the blasphemy, the men could clearly see that her shaved slit was filling with even more of her virgin juices.

By the time he finished the torture, the wax had hardened, and since all traces of hair had been removed from her body, the solid wax was easily pulled away. Underneath, the skin of her back and bottom was undamaged, but was bright pink from the heat and extremely sensitive.

Hutton pulled her to a sitting position and removed the cowl from her head and neck. The pretty dark-haired young woman was even more beautiful with her cowl off. Her hair was short, having been cut to the length of a woman's finger when she took her vows. Her startled expression revealed her deep blue eyes, a striking contrast to her jet-black hair. Now she was completely naked, devoid of any covering to her body at all, not even the finest of downy hair.

Leather manacles were buckled onto her ankles before they lifted her from the table and placed her on her feet. Once again they fastened her chained wrists to the posts on either side, this time spreading her legs and chaining them to the base of the posts. Her arms were pulled tight and her thighs were wide open, causing her shaved and wet sex to be plainly visible to the evil bandits.

The table was removed and a rug was brought in and unrolled. It was of the finest Persian workmanship, worth a small fortune if the pirates were to sell it at Port Royal. But it might draw too much attention to them, being unique and easily identifiable, so it remained on board. Onto this base were tossed numerous tasseled silk pillows of all hues. Sister Dominique stood in her bonds, helpless to prevent the next test God had for her.

She was surprised when the door to the room opened and a man entered leading a young woman. She was about the same age as Dominique, and she too was naked, keeping her gaze cast down. The nun was startled to see faint red lines all over her body, on her back, thighs, and even her large firm breasts. Dominique saw that her wrists bore restraints similar to her own, and were fastened together behind her back. She had lovely auburn hair and when she raised her face and looked at Dominique, the nun saw striking green eyes. The girl was wearing a leather collar, with a steel ring from which ran a slender silver chain.

Dominique's gaze traced the silver line that sparkled in the lamplight to its other end - attached to a ring in the girl's nipple! The ring ran through from one side to the other - clearly this poor thing had had her nipple pierced, no doubt by these savages. Seeing the girl's pierced breast was another sign to the eager nun. In her special prayers she had imagined that the men who would torture her would pierce her nipples, and she realized that it had been a vision granted to her by God, a foreshadowing of what would really happen.

The man who led the girl into the room then barked at her, "On your knees, slave!" and she struggled to her knees on the cushions, an awkward task with her hands bound, but for which she was offered no help by any of the men staring at her. When she was settled, Hutton walked up to her and turned her face to Dominique.

"This is Therese. She was a Duchess, and soon you will see how she has become a most proficient sex slave. In case you have any notions of resisting, or you think you can no longer bear your fate, be assured that it will make no difference whatsoever," he explained casually. "She resisted repeatedly, and each time she was disciplined. You will notice that some of that 'discipline' has left marks on her lovely skin. Those red streaks are almost gone, though. You should have seen the welts they came from."

The men in the room laughed raucously, but the girl merely kept her head down.

"But finally she broke, as will you if you resist."

But Sister Dominique knew that she had to resist. That was God's test for her. She must resist until they can find no other torture for her. Then they would exhaust themselves trying to break her will, but her faith would win them over.

One of the men stepped up to the kneeling woman and looked down at her. He untied the rope holding up his ragged trousers and they dropped to the deck. At first Sister Dominique did not know what she was seeing. Dangling from the man's lower belly was what looked at first to the innocent girl to be a tail. It was right on a level with the Duchess's face, and the man simply said,

"Now you will see how a slave girl sucks a man's cock."

A Cock! Is that what they called it? Dominique knew of the existence of penises, but the only ones she had ever seen were on the little boys who ran about naked in the village near the convent. Is this what happens when they become men? Dominique was shocked and horrified by the realization. Then she realized that meant that every one of these men, and all the crew she had seen up on deck, had similar ornamentation. She was contemplating the implications when she was shocked back to the moment by the sight of the woman leaning forward and licking the man's organ. Truly this was the most horrendous and cruel torture that Dominique had ever imagined; forced to take one of those outsized and disgusting things in her mouth! Dominique tried to prepare herself for the inevitable moment when she, too, would be forced to commit such an unspeakable act.

Therese, this Duchess, had taken the end of the man's cock in her mouth and was sucking on it. Unbelievably it had become much larger even than before. It stuck straight out in front of him, connecting his hips to the slave girl's mouth. She was plunging her face over the stiff rod, driving it to the back of her throat. Saliva drooled from her lips and dripped from her chin. Dominique watched it drop onto the girl's large, shaking breasts and hard, erect nipples, once again drawing her attention to the ring in the slave's pierced breast. Dominique tried to imagine what it would feel like to have her own nipples pierced, and she expected she would soon know.