The Convent Pt. 04

The anger and hurt welled up inside Ryan. His hands balled up into fists - or as close to fists as he could make with nails as long as they now were. His mouth opened to voice his outrage.

"Don't!"

As quietly as it was spoken, the word hit Ryan like a whiplash. The nun's amiable expression had vanished and the steel in her voice reminded him that, for all she may have seemed the "nice one," she was still very much a member of the organisation that had ruthlessly and efficiently detained and transformed him. And, it seemed, burnt all his bridges behind him as well.

"Before you say or do anything stupid, just remember we can incapacitate you any time we wish." She gave the control on her signet ring a meaningful tap.

"And you can't even begin to know all the ways we can control you. If you don't believe me, try walking out of that door and going anywhere we don't want you to go." She gestured at the hotel entrance, but his eyes remained locked on her compelling gaze. "Or try telling someone anything we really don't want you to say."

Her expression softened just a fraction. "Now, are you going to remember your training and keep doing what you're told? Or am I just going to leave you in agony while I decide what the most amusing punishment would be?

Ryan's anger collapsed, as if all the air had been sucked out of a balloon.

"Yes sister," he replied, the quiet and submissive tone making it crystal clear which question he was answering. "I'm sorry sister."

"I'm not," she said bluntly. "This was a lesson you had to learn. And you wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't be having this conversation, if the Order didn't think your training and discipline weren't strong enough. Now, before we go up to our room and get you ready, I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

She leaned in to him and spoke very quietly, even though nobody else was in earshot.

"There are two ways to become a sister of our Order, and they both involve a choice. You can be invited, like Sister Felicity, in which case you choose to say yes - and you can also choose to leave whenever you like." She flicked her fingers, miming the act of walking away.

"Or you can be trained. In which case there's still a choice, because if the training is too tough, you can decide to serve us in other ways. But our servants are with us for life. Those who rise to the sisterhood through training will, at some point, be allowed to leave - if they wish. And if they have shown sufficient devotion. Do you think you can be devoted, Amanda?"

He didn't have to think about the answer, it was programmed into him so deeply now that he could no more resist her authority than cut off one of his own limbs.

"Yes sister," he responded meekly, dropping his head to end even the semblance of defiance. Inside, a part of him was still struggling - hating what had been done to him, plotting the next opportunity to break free. But even that part had decided that now was not the time.

As he followed Sister Chastity into the lift, his thoughts were already turning to what lay ahead. She had said he would have to get ready - but for what?

Up in the room, two surprises were waiting. One was the sight of a wardrobe full of clothes. They must, he realised have been there already, since the four of them had brought no luggage. The other was the sight of Agnes, clad in black lingerie rather than the white set she had put on at the convent - and getting ready to don a black robe.

Ryan's gaze swivelled to Sister Patience, who was helping her to dress. The irascible nun wasted no time in answering his unspoken question.

"No, you idiot, she is not being elevated to the sisterhood. And neither are you. This is just a... costume."

As Agnes put on the robe, he could see that it was different to the ones worn by the two senior nuns. It was made of a much coarser and cheaper material, there was no embroidery on it - and it had Velcro strips that allowed it to be opened and closed at the front. Plus, it was only just over half the usual length, with a short skirt that left most of Agnes' nylon clad legs visible.

In short order, Ryan was wearing one of his own, with the same lingerie. A sheer black slip that hid virtually nothing of his breasts, a black G-string that left his buttocks bare, and stay up black stockings. They were paired with black shoes with platform soles and even higher heels than the ones he'd been wearing when he arrived.

The headdress was also different. Rather than concealing his hair completely, like the ones he was used to wearing at the convent, this one sat on top, allowing his long, wavy black tresses (which seemed to him to have grown at an artificially fast rate during his time In captivity) to cascade down to his shoulders and frame his artfully painted face.

With some adjustments to his makeup, including a much bolder shade of red on his lips (a suggestion by Sister Chastity that he had to agree went better with the new outfit) and an even brighter coating for his fingernails, he was ready to go.

He had to admit, admiring his reflection in the wardrobe mirror, that he had never looked sexier. Not, he added to himself with a quick mental qualification, that he wanted to look sexy. But if that was what it took to make the senior nuns happy, and preserve his chances of getting away from them, then he would try his best.

To his surprise, he and Agnes, who was looking even more stunning than usual, especially with her blonde ringlets on display, were forced to wait while the other nuns changed into street clothes - the first time he seen any of the senior members of the Order in anything but habits or whatever underwear they favoured.

They both put on dark business wear, leaving nothing to show of their religious affiliations, but also calling little attention to themselves - with the possible exception of Sister Chastity's long, shapely legs, admirably displayed by the cut of her skirt, and accentuated by the elegance of her shoes. Ryan realised for perhaps the first time that she was a very attractive woman, as good looking in her way as his former girlfriend.

He was more than a little worried about the prospect about being seen on the streets in his current outfit, especially without the thrill of possible freedom to insulate him from his anxieties. But instead of going out onto the busy thoroughfare at the front of the hotel, the two nuns led Agnes and him out into a quiet back alley.

Just a few minutes later, they were outside a nondescript door at the back of an older building which had the air of a disused warehouse. The contrast with the gleaming architecture of the high class hotel they had just left was striking.

Sister Chastity, who was quite clearly the leader of the expedition, nodded to her older colleague. Sister Patience glowered at her but dutifully pressed a button besides the door. She waited five seconds then pressed it again, repeatedly. The door eventually opened to reveal a towering figure, a man with a battered countenance in a tuxedo that barely covered his hulking frame. He had security written all over him.

"All right, all right," he grumbled. His eyes slid past the two women and then alighted with a gleam on Agnes and Ryan. He snickered as their eyes dropped rather than meet his, then spoke in a low rumble.

"Boss is waiting for you. He said the crowd's getting nicely warmed up. Your girls had better be able to dance."

He ran an appreciative eye over the "girls" in question and grinned. "Not that I reckon they need to, myself. Not looking like that."

"The girls," said Sister Chastity coldly, "will do just fine. Now show us where we need to go, please."

As they followed the bouncer down a series of dimly lit corridors, Ryan was oblivious to his surroundings - and only his rigid self-discipline kept him from trying to run screaming in the opposite direction.

Because he knew now exactly what he was going to have to do. And if he had glanced at Agnes, he would have seen that she did too. The only difference was that her apprehension was written all over her face, while Ryan's features were as wooden as ever.

Clearly, they would be performing in front of a crowd. And it was not hard to work out what kind of "dancing" would be expected - because they had been forced to practise it at the convent for the past few weeks.

Ryan had thought that having the novices do striptease routines and learn how to gyrate next to and around a pole was just one more unsubtle way of ramming home the Order's core philosophy. That to fully appreciate the subjugation of women, the least deserving men - and he had long since accepted he fell into that category - must truly experience life as a woman.

And not just as any woman, but as the male ideal of female beauty, complete with makeup, lingerie and impossibly high heels. All while being subjected to sexual abuse by those holding power over them.

But now, the practices took on a very different character. As did the way the novices had been forced to dance in pairs, grind their bodies together and fondle one another. It was not just another form of demeaning treatment, but a rehearsal. For something they would actually have to do in front of a room full of people. A room full of men, he was almost certain.

And it could be no coincidence that he and Agnes had been by far the most accomplished performers - and the ones most often asked to reprise their displays for the private amusement of the senior nuns.

At the thought of what he was about to do, panic welled up inside Ryan. He stopped suddenly and, as the others turned round to look at him, said the first thing that came into his head. "Bathroom!" Sister Chastity narrowed her eyes. "I, um, I need to... to take a break."

"Me too," chipped in Agnes quickly. Sister Patience gave an exasperated snort, but her colleague nodded her acquiescence.

The bouncer said: "There's one just here - if you don't mind using the men's. Otherwise there's one in the dressing room, but that's generally pretty busy, what with the other girls and all."

"This one's fine," said Sister Chastity. "But quickly please, ladies."

Agnes nodded, grabbed Ryan's hand and pulled him into the toilet, which was old, cracked and with a smell that mixed stale urine and used condoms. It was truly disgusting. But Agnes paid it no heed. "What's up Mandy?" she asked anxiously. "You look terrible!"

Her use of the diminutive, which she only ever called him when they were alone, was usually something he found simultaneously cute and infuriating. It was a mark of his distress that he didn't even notice it.

"I don't think I can do it," he replied, trying to stop his voice from cracking, sensing that he was just seconds from bursting into sobs. "Dance, I mean. Not in front of... them."

To his surprise, she actually scoffed.

"You - not be able to do something? No, that can't be right! You're the strong one, the one who never cracks. The one who's best at everything. Makeup, walking, dancing. Even..." - she gave a shy smile - "making me cum."

She reached up and stroked his face, her expression turning sombre once again. "Look, I'm not sure I can get through this without you. Please?"

For just a second, he felt tears brimming. But instead of letting them flow, he took a deep breath, then bent his head to kiss the beautiful blonde novice, gently so that their lipstick would not smudge.

As he lifted his mouth from hers, he nodded and said: "We'll get through it together, okay?" She squeezed his hand in response.

"All right," he continued, "we'd better go and face the music. Or maybe turn our back on it." She giggled at that and he forced himself to smile back. "But first, I really do need to pee..."

A few minutes later, the four nuns were shown into an office. A well-dressed man in perhaps his forties rose from behind a desk to greet them. "Sisters!" he said expansively. "Good to see you again."

His smile was that of a shark. A dangerous man, Ryan thought, one he would have run a mile to avoid even in his former life. He couldn't repress an involuntary shiver as the man's gaze fell on him and then Agnes. Their appearance prompted an appreciative whistle. "Wow, these are the best yet."

"That's why our fee has gone up," said Sister Chastity coolly. "And If your patrons are as satisfied as I expect them to be, we'll be wanting a bonus."

The man's eyebrows raised, but the smile didn't budge.

"Is that so? Well, we'll have to see. Jacob?" This was to the bouncer. "Please escort these lovely ladies to the dressing room. Amber will let them know what to do. Oh wait though, we'll need their names."

He cocked his head in Agnes' direction. "What's yours, honey?"

She answered him in a small voice. He shook his head dismissively. "No, that won't do. You can be... Angel. Suits you, yeah? And how about you?"

Ryan swallowed. "I'm A-... I mean, Mandy."

He wasn't sure why he chose to use that name and he was careful not to look at Sister Chastity to see her reaction, though he heard Sister Patience give a snort of disapproval.

But the club owner, or whoever he was, clearly felt differently. "Mandy, huh? Yeah, we can work with that. Okay then, off you go."

Ryan and Agnes were taken to a dressing room crowded with scantily dressed women and introduced to Amber, who turned out to be a busty redhead in a skimpy gold bikini.

"Well now," she drawled, "aren't you just the cuties? You done this shit before?" She jerked a thumb towards one end of the room, where a open doorway led to a flight of stairs. Through the entrance came the sound of pumping music and a chorus of cheers and catcalls.

"Um, yes," said Ryan hesitantly. "Or at least, we know how to dance and get our clothes off. In front of people too. But not..."

He made an effort to pull himself together. "So what kind of crowd do you get here?"

"Businessmen mostly," replied Amber. "They're not too bad, especially lunchtimes like this. It can get a lot more feral at night. Anyway, you can go up and watch for a while if you like. When it's your turn, you get three songs, right? Say about fifteen minutes all up. Everything comes off except your panties. And if you're up to touching each other, do it, yeah? Cos they really love that..."

It proved to be far less daunting than Ryan had feared. Part of that was the lights, which were so bright they made it hard to see much of the crowd, who seemed to be mainly a bunch of men in suits. Unlike the crowds through which Ryan had moved earlier, nobody seemed to be masked.

The volume of the music helped too, allowing him to focus on what he and Agnes were doing and tuning out the cries and comments from the audience. The height of the stage also meant too he was in no danger of being touched, especially with bouncers stationed on either side. It was easier than he thought to discard the robe and then the slip, baring his breasts to wild applause.

Most of all, he found that he could just concentrate on enjoying the sight of Agnes (or Angel as she had been announced) as she too disrobed, and the feel of her body as he danced with her.

There was no way he could tune out the reaction of the crowd when he first fondled her budding breasts and then ran his tongue over them, all while still grinding to the throbbing beat. The cheer was so loud that he thought the roof was going to lift off. But he could still revel in the immediate sensation of her nipples hardening under his tongue, sense her gasps of delight and enjoy the feel of her crotch as she ground it against his.

Best of all was sensing the moment when the trembling he had felt in her from the moment they took the stage started to change from fear to arousal.

At the convent, they had always been aware of their audience. It hadn't stopped them from getting turned on when they danced together, but they had chosen to ignore it - or at least not to do anything too overt about it. But here, isolated from the baying crowd by the glare and the pounding music, they somehow felt more free to express their feelings.

It wasn't a surprise then when Ryan felt Agnes grab his hand, guide it around to her bottom, and then pull aside the thin strip of fabric that was all that lay between his fingers and her asshole. He lifted his busy mouth away from her breasts, brought it to her ear, and half-asked, half-shouted: "How many fingers do you want?"

Her head whipped around. The smile she had been mechanically displaying for the benefit of the audience had become the nearest to a wolfish grin he had ever seen her give. "As many as you can fit!" she called, fighting to be heard.

That did startle him, but as always, he refused to let it show. He simply nodded his acquiescence and added: "Okay, but I want it too, so be sure to leave time, yeah?"

Her answer was to give him a lingering kiss, prompting another surge in the decibel level, and then squat down, pulling him with her.

It took him a moment to figure out what she had in mind, but when he did, he knelt down behind her, knees splayed wide. As Agnes started raising and lowering her bottom, he began thrusting his pelvis up and down in time with her rhythm, grabbing her to steady himself.

To the audience, it looked like he was pretending to fuck her. But what they couldn't see was that the fingers of the hand that was grabbing her bottom were sliding into her tight hole.

It wasn't easy without proper lubrication. But he used a combination of the sweat on their smooth, hairless bodies and some discreetly harvested saliva to moisten his digits and get them inside her tight hole. He had never put more than two inside her before, but he found it easier than he would have expected to slip a third one in.

In no time at all, she was impaling herself on his hand. He was just beginning to wonder if he should attempt a fourth fingers when his stimulation did its work and she came - or at least got as close as the Order's physical and chemical restraints would allow. Despite how it must have felt, she went to great trouble to fake a more satisfying orgasm for the benefit of the watching men.

Then it was his turn, as they swapped places. The third song was already halfway through as he felt her hands open him up. Her fingers were greasy and it took him a moment to wonder how. Then, with a thrill, he realised that she must have coated her hand in the small amount of spunk that had leaked into her panties when she reached her "climax."

The thought of having her juices inside of him was such a turn-on that he reached his own frustrated orgasm in under a minute, before he had time to wonder whether she might try to slip her whole fist into an asshole loosened by months of being fucked by huge strapons.

When the song ended, they exited to huge applause. Amber, who had been watching from backstage, was clearly impressed. "Wow," she said, "you girls really got it on! Told you they'd like it. That wasn't an act though, am I right?"

Ryan looked at Agnes, who giggled. "Well, we do sleep together..."

Amber gave a nod. "Yeah, thought so. I'm kinda the same, always put a lot more effort in with the ones I'm already fucking. Plus the ones I want to fuck, of course... Oh wow, now look at that!"

This last comment was directed to something on the screen of the iPad she was holding. "You two sure are popular."

"How do you mean?" asked Ryan, who was in the process of putting the discarded parts of his costume back on.

"I mean," said Amber, "that you girls are about to be very busy indeed." When neither Ryan or Agnes showed any signs of comprehension, she added: "The private shows? Wait, didn't they tell you about those?" The two novices shook their heads.

"Huh. Well, it's not complicated. Any guy who wants to can ask for a private show - you put on a performance just for him, in a private room. Or any woman, but we don't get a lot of those. Fun when it happens though..." She gave a dreamy smile.