The Trials of Pauline Ch. 09

The dependence of Miss Angelica on flagellation came as a revelation to Polly. It seemed that the whole college was a school for discipline and correction. It was late one evening, when Polly realised that she had left a book in the chapel near the confessional earlier that evening, that she first became aware of Miss Angelica's addiction.

It was a warm dark night. Everyone would be in their dormitories finishing off home-work or reading. Polly ran swiftly in her nightdress to the chapel. Others would think that she had gone to the toilet. But when Polly entered the small chapel by the small side door, it felt scary. Dark grotesque shadows were thrown against the stone walls from the moon shining coldly through the windows. She cringed with uneasiness.

Her breathing stopped with suspense and apprehension. She thought she had heard voices! Polly strained her ears. There were the sounds again! Polly thought she recognised the voice of Miss Angelica. No, it couldn't be. It held a curious whimpering tone, completely alien to the principal's usual dominant nature. But it was.

'What's she doing here at this time?' Polly wondered. Creeping stealthily nearer, she realised that Miss Angelica was kneeling at the confessional. Polly's first reaction was to leave quickly and silently. But curiosity overtook her intentions. What on earth could the Sister have to confess about, she wondered? She crept still nearer, dodging behind the large columns. Now she was near enough to hear properly.

'You are so domineering. I must confess to you. Forgive me, father, and punish me for my sins.'

'Tell me about them, sister, so that I can decide the level of punishment you deserve.'

Father Emmanuel!

'Today I pushed a pupil over my knees and punished her. And I experienced carnal thoughts during the act.'

Miss Angelica was knelt upright on a hassock before the confessional box. Her prim, iron-grey hair was fastened in its usual bun at the back of her head. Her hands were clasped behind her back.

'What did you do?' came the muffled response from behind the curtain.

'The young lady's bloomers were stained with a lustful discharge, so I lowered them to examine her genitals with lewd intentions. The sight of her young soft vulva roused my wicked thoughts. I am unable to resist yielding to them.'

'What else?'

'Unable to stay my curiosity, I told the young lady that it was necessary for me to examine her innocence by testing the gap with my fingers to see if her juices were running?'

'And were they?'

'Indeed, father.'

'Describe what you saw.'

'She is a ginger-haired girl, looking younger than her eighteen years. The growth of hair round her genitals was sparse. She had small, but delightful inner labia. They were a delicate pink and a little wrinkled. They peeked shyly from the narrow gash of pale folds. Damp with her juices.'

'Did you see the secret entrance to her sanctuary?'

'I did. It was puckered and damp with her sweet nectar.'

'Only damp? Not wet?'

'My caresses encouraged the syrup to seep more freely. I could smell her young odour. Fresh and sweet. Then I accused the girl of having carnal thoughts.'

'Did she agree?'

'Yes. Although red from embarrassment, she said she was thinking of being felt by a young, handsome stranger. Then I whipped her cruelly for having such thoughts.'

'What was the girl's response?'

'She wept bitterly. Begged forgiveness. The pain was awful for her. So I bent over her to kiss her tender stripes and lick her wounds. I tasted the juices of Eve.'

'In such a virgin, sister?'

'Indeed, father. The devil wastes no time in burrowing into our young women. I thought it my duty to lick away those signs of wickedness. Her loins squirmed. She whimpered until I felt her groin in the throes of her modest orgasm. Then I sat her up and kissed her, made her promise not to say anything, and sent her back to her dormitory. She thanked me for correcting her and bringing her peace of mind.'

'Was this the same girl as before, or a different one?'

'This was the same Olive.'

'And did your own juices bubble up whilst you toyed with her's?'

'They did, father. Copiously! I had need to calm my wicked thoughts by use of the altar candle I keep in my room for such emergencies.'

'Sister, I think your story was told me partly to inflame my own passions as well as to confess to your own lewdness. You have succeeded in raising the devil's head in me. You must then douse his anger.'

'I will, father. If that is your will.'

'It is! But first, you must be punished. The flames of hell must be flogged out of you. You must be chastened thoroughly. There must be no mercy given. Come into the chancel.'

Polly watched Miss Angelica go into the chancel, through the wide arch. The pupils already spoke of wicked salacious acts between the principal and the father. But Polly thought it was all speculative rumour. Now she would find out for herself. She crept up to behind the pillar to watch the proceedings.

To her astonishment, the chancel was lit only with red and yellow flickering lights. Like flames. There, standing to one side, was Father Emmanuel flexing a long thin cane. Miss Angelica was standing in profile, her head bowed.

'Remove your habit,' he barked.

As Miss Angelica slowly undid the buttons and cord, allowing the black garment to fall to the floor, the father unpinned her hair-bun. The locks fell in a torrent down her back to her waist. Polly gasped inwardly. Beneath the habit Miss Angelica was naked!

Perhaps she had come already prepared for the punishment, leaving unnecessary garments behind. Her large buttocks jutted proudly with a full, weighty overhang. The waist was thick, the wide, swollen belly supporting two pendulous breasts resting on it. Large saucer-like areolae with peaks of nipples resembling walnuts. The hips were stout, her thighs muscular and bulky.

Flashing red and yellow lights gave her body the appearance of being consumed in flames. A single spot mounted on the floor was trained on the inner fork of her hips.

'Raise your arms and grasp the rings.' Miss Angelica reached up to grip two sturdy iron rings suspended from the high ceiling, turning to face Polly as she did. Her eyes opened wide at the arm-pits, covered in thick coarse hair.

'Open your legs, devil-witch.' He kicked her calves apart from behind her. 'Angelica,' he blurted, 'your own hell is inhabited by demons, stoking the fires of lust in your own loins.' He reached between her thighs and sank his fingers deep and rough into her genitals.

'There!' he cried, reaching over her shoulder to push the sticky fingers in front of her face. The Principal's fissure, now open for inspection, fascinated Polly, illuminated by the single spot. Plump and swollen, framed in thick, wiry hair, the tousled curls soaked with her plentiful juices. Her fat wrinkled inner lips dangled, like large, dark testicles, from her vulva throbbing as though gasping for breath.

'We need to flog the devils out of your furnace, Angelica. They are busy stoking the fires deep inside even as we speak, the lava of hell pouring from the abyss. The cane, I think! The cane! We must flog it out of you.'

Moving to one side of her, Father Emmanuel struck the long cane across the buttocks with a sickening thwack. It sank deep into the flesh. Miss Angelica grunted loud with the sudden pain. The body recoiled, buttocks and breasts shuddering obscenely. Several more ferocious thwacks followed, beating the quivering cheeks without mercy. Father Emmanuel bellowed at her.

'Your mind is filled with evil thoughts. With wicked thoughts of lust and sex. They must be thrashed out of you. You must be chastised.'

Once again, Father Emmanuel raised the willow cane high, bringing it down with an almighty slash across the wide expanse of white buttocks. There came a stifled scream of pain, the loins lurched and bucked. Another slash brought up another angry weal. Slash! Slash! Slash! The cheeks were beaten remorselessly as they jolted and recoiled to more throaty screams of pain. The red stripes swelled up in long crimson weals.

The fat folds of flesh between her ample thighs oozed forth yet more juices. Then Father Emmanuel paused, stood to one side of the heaving, sobbing body, considering his next line of attack. He was determined to thrash her to submission.

'Flog me hard, father,' she begged.

Snatching up a leather strap, Father Emmanuel aimed a blow across the suspended breasts. They swung with the sudden onslaught. As Miss Angelica recoiled against the excruciating blows, her breath taken away by the force of the blow. More slashes into the heavy pendulous meat sent the bags of flesh juddering and swaying, the skin rising in angry-looking ridges of crimson.

The victim was howling with burning pain. Her loins on fire. Oozing, dripping hot lava onto the drooping lips.

'Now, kneel down!' Father Emmanuel barked. Miss Angelica sank onto her trembling knees, buttocks thrust out. Her wrists were soon hand-cuffed to the legs of the altar. Polly had not before noticed the fixtures on the legs, but realised they were usually hidden by the altar cloth, which reached the ground.

Father Emmanuel returned to his station to the side of Miss Angelica's shaking bottom, blistered with sore blotches, where he took up the cane once more. Aiming the willow cane carefully at the cleft between the cheeks, with a faint whistle through the air, the cane slashed across the tender lips, sending up a spray of honey. Miss Angelica shrieked in terrible pain as the thin cane inflicted blows on her most sensitive lips.

'No more, I beg. No more! I am punished enough.'

'I shall now extinguish the flames, sister. Your great healer is ready to enter the furnace of hell to quench it with holy water! And she is ready to receive it.'

'No!' bellowed Miss Angelica, struggling. But Father Emmanuel was a strong man. He had twisted her arms painfully behind her, forcing her against the edge of the altar in front of her. Her struggles were in vain.

'The only true healer of the tormented spirit,' the Father gasped. 'Receive its blessing, sinful woman.'

Polly expected to see him penetrate the hot gash with his rampant penis. But no! He snatched up a thick wooden cross from its stand on the altar. It was about thirty centimetres long, constructed from oak with a rounded end.

'Oh, no, Father!'

Father Emmanuel thrust the thick cross deep into Miss Angelica's gaping entrance. She screamed out in agony as the heavy oak bar was forced in, stretching the bruised lips, as far as the cross piece would allow. He rammed it in and out harshly, pitilessly.

'Overpower the devil. Harrow and torture the demons. Draw out the fires of hell and extinguish the flames of lustful desire.'

Angelica roared in her agony! But her stout body soon responded to the carnal act. The groans turned to moans and whinnying sounds. Pumping the cross in and out, Father Emmanuel slapped the lacerated buttocks with his other hand, sending shards of pain throughout Miss Angela's belly.

She no longer heard his demands. She no longer cared. Her mind blotted out everything except the feeling within her loins. Her exhilaration grew, burning loins trembling with hot delight. Thighs shook. Buttocks fluttered. She was fast climbing to the peak of agonising delight.

Holding the cross deep inside the passage, Father Emmanuel pushed his face into the gap, pressing his stiff tongue into the wet forest of hair, searching for the other opening. He found it! As he thrust the stiffened tongue as far as he could into the back passage, Miss Angelica jolted her body as her orgasm swept through her like a wild torrent, swilling through her body, loins trembling, legs of jelly, head flaying from side to side.

It was true that Father Emmanuel had enjoyed the merciless flogging of the Principal with open mouth and a bursting manhood. No longer able to contain himself, he moved behind her thighs, lifting his cassock. Removing the dildo, he took hold of his shaft, aimed it at her gaping vulva and thrust hard between her wet, delicate lips, deep into the vagina. She groaned with despair.

Grasping hold of the coils of grey hair to steady his action, the Father plunged hard and fast, gasping and grunting with effort. The excitement spiralled, his loins tensed, dragging at his groin. He tugged cruelly on the hair as he thudded into her, pulling his victim's head back, her lips drawn back in a snarl of pain. Suddenly, his scalding seed gushed turbulently into the heaving mass of shaking flesh.

'Receive my blessing,' he cried with joy. 'Hallelujah!'

Miss Angelica's head collapsed to the floor, moaning loudly, vagina filled with thick sperm, her buttocks and breasts lacerated with read weals. Father Emmanuel released her wrists. She threw herself round his legs in supplication.

'Thank you father,' she gasped. 'I feel calmer. I feel scourged of the devil. Let me lie at your feet in worship.' Miss Angelica pushed up his cassock to kiss and lick his sticky, softening penis and testicles. She felt great joy and happiness in the service of this mighty master.

'And, in return, you have drawn his vile seed from my loins, now let us both rest a while.'

Polly, aroused by the carnal sight, found herself manipulating her own clitoris wildly. She was moaning to herself in anguish, twisting her buttocks erratically. But Polly could not hold back her groans. Miss Angelica stiffened at the faint uncontrolled whimper.

'What's that? Is someone there?

Polly held her breath. Father Emmanuel stood and walked out into the chapel. There, in the darkness, he found Polly crouching. The white of her dress gave her away. He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her roughly to her feet.

'What are you doing here? How long have you been crouched there?' His voice was angry and threatening.

'Please, father,' Polly whined, 'just now. I came for a book I left here at prayer.'

Sister Angelica, now dressed again in her black habit appeared in the doorway. The red and yellow flame-effect was gone. Just the pale light from a single bulb shone in the chancel. She peered into the intruder's face.

'It's Polly! Have you been snooping? Tell the truth.'

'No, miss. I came for the book I left behind.'

'What did you see?'

The question was spat out. Polly paused.

'Tell me!' Miss Angelica slapped Polly hard across the left cheek. A stinging crack which snapped her head to one side. Then a second smack on the other cheek snapped it the other way. Polly was blinded for a few seconds by the severity of the blows. She was too taken aback to cry.

'Nothing miss! I was searching for my book.' Polly's eyes were rolling with fear, her cheeks colouring red.

The principal and the father exchanged significant glances. He nodded. She took Polly by the arm, gripping tight.

'Come in here, Polly. You must be punished for being out of bounds. And let me tell you that if I hear any suggestion at all that you have been telling others about interrupting my confession, you will be whipped to within an inch of your life. Do you understand?'

Polly nodded. 'Yes, miss,' she muttered, barely audible. Polly was shaking with apprehension.

'Let this be a foretaste of what you can expect.' The Principal had a reputation for savage punishment. But, when Father Emmanuel rolled up his sleeve, Polly realised that it was he who would correct her. The principal pushed Polly across her lap, lifting the night-dress above Polly's waist, exposing her gleaming white buttocks.

With cassock hanging loose Polly was able to catch sight of Father Emmanuel's straining shaft. She gazed at it, imagining that she was across her father's lap. Father Emmanuel's eyes were glued to the plump mound of inviting flesh, soft and warm, between Polly's slightly parted thighs. The agitation in his loins was almost unbearable! He was desperate to spray into this gorgeous young female.

With the open palm of his large hand, Polly was smacked hard on both cheeks. They coloured quickly. Red blotches raised on the pale flesh. After several hard slaps, he paused for breath. Then, he took over with the cane. The stinging blows jerked Polly's cheeks. They bit deep with a burning pang. Her stinging loins sang with a scalding agony. She moaned loudly, squirming her thighs. Tears welled up in her eyes.

As though unable to control herself, Polly grasped the erect cock for comfort. She imagined it was her father. Beneath his cassock, she squeezed Father Emmanuel's hard penis!

'Oh, father!' she gasped.

The burning in her loins was encouraging her flow of honey before his covetous eyes. To the lustful Father, the young folds of Polly's flesh were electrifying, her grip clenching and unclenching on his cock. It was hard as iron. Then, to both his exhilaration and surprise, he experienced a second ejaculation, his hand raining blows on those young perfect cheeks. His offering dribbled over Polly's fist.

Too aroused to stop at this, Polly moaned in anguish, twisting her buttocks erratically. Without thinking, the flood in her hand was rubbed into the softening flesh which had released it. The gathering tension in Polly's groin tightened and tightened. Then it snapped with a great relief.

'Father! Father!' Polly screamed with ecstatic release, the surprised Father Emmanuel's penis now drooping between his thighs. He stopped the beating, believing the girl to be crying out for God's mercy. Polly's buttocks were bruised and split.

'Let that be a lesson, young lady,' Father Emmanuel spoke sternly, though embarrassed by the stains showing at the front of his cassock.

Polly returned to her dormitory determined not to repeat anything of what she saw to the others. But she secretly determined to visit the chapel the following week.

But, the following week the chapel doors had all been locked. More care had been taken to ensure that Miss Angelica's confessions were made in private.

But Polly now had the ultimate weapon for blackmail, should it ever be necessary.