The Imp of the Perverse

Her defeated moan as the bouquet of her menses rose around them was fetching. He placed his hand against her bare bottom, feeling her crying in its quivers.

He was pleased with her submission—as horrible as this was for her, she didn't struggle or squirm.

"Ten and Eight?" he asked her

"T-t-t-Ten and Nine," blubbered out in humiliated misery.

"Good girl," he praised her. She hadn't lied about her age to spare a stroke! He revised his opinion of her upwards.

She was as tender as he'd expected. He could have broken her resolve to take the spanking easily—but he didn't. He paused to let her recover her composure before delivering the next slap. Her cries resounded in the study. They were far from the first. Both his wife's and daughter's yelps were well embedded in the walls.

The leak of red down a thigh drew a new tenor of moans from the girl. He was tempted to wipe it—but he let it stay. Punishing could be a messy business. It would not be a new thing if his trousers were slightly stained.

The room hung with the hints of her scent as she sobbed softly in the corner, her soiled panties around her ankles, her hands holding up her hem to show off her buttocks.

Mary, the house wardess appeared in the doorway, either drawn by her cries or, possibly more likely, lurking as she delivered his tea should she require intervention.

"Lord Grummurand," she announced herself. "I can take possession of this one and send for some candles to mute her scent." (He heard the intended soft cry of humiliated outrage from Maya at this.)

"Aye. Shepherd her back to her bed. She's earned the rest." Mary took the sobbing girl shuffling out of the study.

"And I need no thanking for the discipline," he called out after her, forestalling whichever girl would be sent to tend to his cock which had, yes, hardened during his punishment of the serving girl.

If he was still troubled by it, Nartha would have that wifely duty when he came to bed.

THE ROAD TO THE ABBEY - ELENI

When she was free, she could traverse a forest from end-to-end in minutes, traveling amid the roots of the trees that served her as a highway invisible to mankind. She could join a river and flow with it, feeling its connections all the way down to the oceans. Now, she sat, pouting, in the human carriage-contraption on her way out to some sort of punishment-facility.

Quassi had seen fit to remove her chastity belt for the excursion. "You're going to have to learn to control yourself," the girl had said, taking it off her. As much as she hated it, being without it was trying in a different way.

The girl could have ordered her not to indulge her needs—yes. But a geas, even a powerful one, such as was on her, worked best when its commands were limited or specific. Perhaps the girl knew that. Perhaps she just actually intended Eleni to police herself and the gnawing ugly biological snap of a whip that her sex drove her to assuage.

So now she looked glumly out the carriage window, which bumped along a human road, terribly aware of the constant, irritating demands of her sex. Where before the presence of the belt had made the region irritatingly off limits, now the possibility that she could get at it plagued her even more!

"So you can actually speak with animals?" Quassi seemed intent on interrogating her as to her spirit-nature.

"Yes, mistress," she said. "Although they do not speak like people. They have . . . opinions in the way of their species. Dogs think 'dog things.' Horses think 'horse things'—their speech is in its way simpler or more straightforward than human speech."

The girl had cannily instructed Eleni to answer truthfully and in sufficient detail, thus ensuring that Eleni could not simply give an answer that sounded plausible.

"So, the horses? Do they have a view on your captivity?"

Ugh! "They think I deserve it, mistress," she grumbled. "They understand punishment and think I am disobedient by nature."

She blushed sourly as her mistress laughed at this.

The carriage bumped along.

"Are you keeping the journal?" Mistress-Quassi asked.

"Yes, mistress," Eleni said reluctantly. Oh, no!! Was she going to ask to see it now??

Quassi saw her expression and stifled howls of laughter!Oh!! Eleni was far too much fun!

"You are under punishment, darling girl," Quassi reminded her.

"I can hardly forget it!" The Dryad said petulantly.

"So—either have a . . . mild . . . punishment over my lap—or give me the journal for my reading and questions. Your choice."

Ugh! Ugh! OH! She watched the Dryad struggle with the choice. Then, reluctantly, she drew her skirts up.

"Take them off entirely," said Quassi.

Grrr! Eleni looked balefully at her mistress as she removed the dress. She made to fold it to the side. But—

"Let me see—you've wet right through it!" Quassi was looking at the damp oval where the lubrication from her constant frustration had soaked through. She was rewarded with a humiliated cry from the girl and watching the nature spirit cover her face!

"Panties too. They must be a swamp, girl!" Quassi scolded. She'd been taught by the best. The girl was awash in shame and tears—her nipples were also quite erect, Quassi noted.

She patted her lap. "Over my lap, Eleni!"

If not for the compulsion, she wasn't sure the girl could have managed it. She moaned and pressed her face into the padded bench.

"Spread thighs," Quassi chirped. The nature spirit did, but with a deep groan of protest.

Quassi wanted a look at the girl's inner labia. Apparently, a beast of a punishment mistress had drawn a discipline bow through her lips! Quassi couldn't imagine how that must have hurt! The poor girl had been unable to walk or sit or even close her legs for the entire journey back.

Looking at the flesh now, despite its greenish hue, she could see it had healed most of the way. The irritated, dark chafe-mark was still visible, running up to her clitoris. She mentally rebuked her father for not taking the girl directly to a physician! Yes, the girl was due quite a bit of punishment—but that mark and the indignity that came with it! OH!

She poked around, carefully, aware from the girl's squirms and soft complaints that the spirit could feel her examination oh her intimate spaces.

She adjusted the girl for a spanking. "I think of you," she told the nature spirit across her lap, "Like a naughty little sister—"

That got an unexpected howl of indignation!

"I'm over two hundred years!" The girl cried, obviously beyond her wit's end. Quassi grinned! She'd found one of those soft spots her order-trained teachers, and keepers, and den mothers had always found in her! She remembered with savage clarity the little tweaks and pokes, they had used to test her self-control! How she had been provoked to fail in screaming fits of fury that had led to light chastisement that had been all the more unbearable for being seen clearly by her as her own failure to show proper submission!

"So that should be over two-hundred spanks then!"

The distraught nature spirit howled. "Please, Mistress!"

Quassi started with the application of a slow sharp spanking—She decided she would spend the rest of the ride meting it out, but not to break the girl. No, she spent most of the remaining ride, between spanks, experimenting with different gazes on the girl's anus.

THE PUNISHMENT ABBEY - ELENI

I lay over my mistress' lap, feeling each slap against my bare bottom and, on top of that, the shifting of her gaze, clearly with different intents, on my most shameful place. She got her cries of affront out of me and the equines drawing the carriage, with their sharp ears, laughed the entire way in spectrums humans could not hear.

I was in the most foul of moods when we passed through an outer wall with a high gate that indicated we had arrived at the punishment abbey. I greatly feared Miss Quassi would walk me out naked—but she produced a thin, pale punishment shift that I pulled over my head. It came down to my thighs.

The abbey was an imposing structure: gray stone with a bell tower at the top and a door that looked too small in the bleak face.

There were several large old trees in the front yard and moss hung from them. I could sense the formal judgment in them. The ground was well shaded with patterns of light and dark filtering through the branches. There were two large statues flanking the path up to the door.

A boy and girl, both naked, kneeling, heads hung, their hands behind their backs. Repentance on the boy's block. Contriteness on the girl's. The stone figures, about double the size of a human, knelt in shallow bowls filled with water. Under the light filtering down, the water became a bit of a mirror that showed the great attention to detail in their sexes.

The wall surrounded the abbey and to either side of the imposing building were walls with gates in them. I could hear whimpers from the gate to the right and my nethers clenched as I felt the soil-song of unusual plants.

A young, slightly plump woman with golden hair and one of the acolytes' white robes—but with pink filigree instead of gold came bustling out of the garden to the right with a broad smile. I was gripping my mistress' arm in some fear. This was not a good place to be under punishment!

"Our wood-spirit and . . . her minder?" the acolyte asked as she stood before us. Her welcoming smile did nothing to put me at ease.

"Quassi Grummurand, Miss," said my mistress giving her a curtsey. "This is Eleni, a dryad judicial slave." While I did not like being referred to as a judicial slave, it was at least accurate and better than being called a 'wood spirit.' I kept my gaze down.

"Oh! My! A daughter of the castle-lord?" The woman gushed. "I had not realized we were receiving royalty!"

Quassi grinned. "Technically, I believe Eleni is a part of our family—which would make her royalty as well." I admit to being astonished at this. Was Quassi challenging this senior acolyte on her own ground!?

The woman laughed roundly, though, not seeming at all put out. "So it is, in its way, Quassi. I am Miss Kessna! May I show you in? We've quarters for Eleni—but I'll have to have some drawn up for you."

"I'd like to inspect her quarters as well," Quassi said. "If I may."

"Of course! It is my understanding our dryad is under punishment?"

"She is," my mistress confirmed.

"As such, her quarters will be less comfortable than yours. I assume that is acceptable?"

"Very. I just wish to see them for myself."

The woman nodded.

"I am in charge of both arrivals and the punishment gardens—we have some of our unfortunates enjoying them right now! Why don't we get Eleni situated and then you can freshen yourself after the road."

I noted that for a nature-spirit under punishment there would apparently be no 'freshening' involved. Still, I had Quassi take my arm and calmly lead me following Miss Kessna into the punishment garden.

There were three girls and a boy—The girls were on all fours, working in the overgrowth. The 'punishment' garden had an unpleasant smell to it of rotting fruit. Other than a white, polished stone path—that none of the unfortunates touched, the ground was a muddy foul-smelling mess. Odd plants sprouted from it—nettles, strange flowers.

I could hear their soil songs and they chilled and fascinated me! The humans who had cultivated this garden had used their art—yes—but subtly. The plants had been bred and mixed with unclean in a shockingly masterful fashion to make them entities of punishment.

The girls wore full leather body suits. I am sure they were uncomfortable even in the cool air. The suits were fashioned with oval holes around their sexes and a large hole for their bare buttocks. Their breasts were likewise exposed to the garden. The boots they wore had short chains to the thighs such that they could not stand. A cross bar meant they could not close their legs either. Chains held their wrists near their shoulders as they crawled.

They were caked with mud and grime and clouds of small insects swarmed around their sexes and anuses. They had baskets—placed at a small distance from where they crawled. Each in a different color. They were hunting for flowers. Pretty—but reeking of a girl's unwashed sex.

Where they found one, she would carefully pluck it and then race back to her basket with the flower's stem in her mouth. Once she spit it in—I could tell how they punished the girls with their tastes—they would race back, looking for another.

"They're in a competition," Observed my mistress.

"Yes, well, somewhat. The unfortunate with the least flowers will have an additional punishment and join the hunt tomorrow. They are tasked to get sixty flowers and for each flower they fall short, they will have a lash at dinner."

"Ohh. Awful!"

"It is meant to be a lesson they shall never wish to repeat," Miss Kessna said, smiling at her group.

I watched them crawl through nettles and ivies that tormented their exposed skin.

A girl squirmed energetically, crying out hoarsely as she tried to get under a bush to collect one of the flowers. Her sex was buried in a patch of purple nettles. Another yelped as if stung—the exposed flesh of her buttock had brushed a growth and it left discolored marks on her skin.

The last unfortunate seemed to have given up on the challenge, face down in the mud, quivering in tears as the flies and gnats crawled ceaselessly on her exposed sex. Another acolyte in the same pink-trimmed robes crouched by her, speaking softly.

The one boy wasn't involved in the game. He stood naked, feet in the muck, his hands shackled behind his back. They had placed him in front of a fountain—itself old and moss covered—and a vine bearing vivid red trumpet flowers crawled along the stone sculpture and one of the flowers had been positioned to cover his erect cock.

I gasped at what I saw: although concealed by the flower, I could detect the pistil of it penetrating his urethra and pumping its venom into him. His scrotum was swollen below his cock and I could see orange "veins" creeping around his buttocks and out from his anus.

He bucked slightly, whimpering.

"What's it doing?" My mistress asked.

"Can she say?" the woman asked.

"It's . . . fucking him," I said softly.

"Yes! It is 'pollinating' inside him. In addition to a terrible itches he will be unable to scrach—in his cock, in his scrotum, and in his anus—he will be flooded with female humors! It's quite distressing for boys. He will get to feel bloated and even suffer some cramps—but, in a few weeks, he will pass a seed—as large as a man's fist."

My mistress was dumbstruck. I could feel the intent of the plant: its seedlings germinating in this tender host. His karmic debt fueling it as he strains to push it out, like a large, smooth egg. The humiliation he will feel nourishing it.

"I'm glad I avoided joining the order," my mistress said.

"Oh," laughed Miss Kessna, "We get acolytes from across the land! You have to be very badly behaved to be sent to us!"

If I had told myself I was kept in a cell when I was at castle Ormally, it was because I had not yet been put in a cell.

My "chambers" were an uncomfortable cot, a dark, narrow stone closet with a squat toilet outside in the center of several such cells—one I would need permission to use—and would use in front of everyone. Positioned near it was a pillory-like device with a shaft driven wheel lined with floggers: a spanking engine.

There was a chart showing which prisoners had eaten their gruel—breakfast and lunch were served to us in the main hall. Dinner came here in a bowl. Which had dutifully emptied their water-skins, and which prisoners had moved their bowels.

"If you can't do it in front of the guards—and the other girls—don't worry. We'll take care of any such resistance!"

"If you leave them unattended, aren't you concerned—" My mistress started as the bitch removed even my punishment shift and I felt her eyes on every private crevice of my body.

"Oh—let her! There are mucks in the foundations!"

Quassi made a face. "Eleni—" she said warningly—but my mistress did not command me to abstain from distribution. I threw myself on the cot, and sobbed.

I knew I was one of many who had done exactly the same.

THE ABESS'S TABLE - QUASSI

The second floor of the abbey looked much like the school rooms in her girl's college had. Rows of writing desks and chalkboards. Various furniture for posting rule-breakers. Hung paddles or tawses near the front as a constant reminder to those in the seats that sitting comfortably was a privilege for those under punishment.

The room they were preparing for her was fairly spare but looked comfortable compared to the awful cell for Eleni. She worried for the girl. This place was surely meant to be horrible, but had her father known about that!?

"You're worried for your girl?" guessed Miss Kessna.

"She has little experience controlling herself. I had planned to keep her under observation—not feed her to a muck in that dismal place."

"New arrivals often find themselves wearing a muck within the first week or so—and then never again thereafter . . . or rarely. It is a good training technique. We have belts if you'd prefer though—although those are also punishment devices."

Quassi pondered this.

"I'm to take you to see the abbess," she said, leading Quassi up a spiral stair. There were long "work house" like wings jutting out from the far side of the abbey. "That's where the acolytes and unfortunates sleep, mostly. The old structure here is for study and lectures. I'll take you to see some of the other trial spaces."

Quassi had to admit she was curious.

"What gets an acolyte sent here?" She asked.

"There are a few different things—theft from the order in significant quantities. Mostly, though? Abuse of penitents."

"There . . . is such a thing?" Quassi was surprised to hear it.

"There is! Punishments are carefully managed. It may not seem like it to those in our care—but yes: if an acolyte is uncaring or actually malicious with a penitent they can be sent here."

"I see," she said.

"Through here."

The Abess's antechamber showed various proctoresses of the early order in various states of penance. Quassi was surprised to see a girl in the orders' robes being taken by a stag-headed human, her naked legs spread obscenely wide and white spend in literal torrents dripping out around the cock in her sex and running down the stone bed like a small grotesque waterfall.

She waited in the octagonal room lined with couches until a bell rang and one of the sides slid, opened by some mechanism, to the abbess' chamber.

It was dark and she could see benches where acolytes could sit. Dust flurries were visible in the lines of light slanting through high windows. At the back of the twin rows of benches sat the abbess.

"Come closer girl," said the voice. Quassi came slowly down the aisle. "Yes—that's it," the woman coaxed.

She was obese. That was Quassi's first thought—but it didn't last: no, something was far more wrong than that.

The abbess was a fat woman—if she were stand, she would be some 8 or 9 feet tall! she sat on a throne and Quassi wasn't sure if she wore clothes.

Her skin, the bulge of her huge belly and . . . six swollen breasts, shone in the dim light. She had the coloration of a cow—white with black patches. Her breasts did have an udder like appearance to them. She had several chins.

Her legs were spread so that her sex rested down in a hole like a toilet's but Quassi could tell there was something beneath her. Looking in the gloom, she could see another pair of legs, looking small by comparison, spread open behind the abbess. A girl was on her back, her face under the abbess' sex!

Quassi froze.