Church of Chains by Sean O'Kane Read Free Book Online Page B

her thigh.
    The fourth lash moved higher and wrapped round her waist, the tip of the lash must have cut into the soft skin of the lower stomach as it made the girl writhe and twist desperately before counting in an anguished yelp.
    Paula couldn’t take her eyes off the slim form as its struggles increased under the steady punishment. At times the hips were twisted so far round as the girl tried to spin away from the previous lash that the next one cracked home on ribs and belly.
    These were much harsher whips than Paula had seen before and by the seventh lash the girl was heavily marked and screaming continually. The sister moved close in front of her to make sure she was still counting. After the ninth lash she held her hand up.
    “No count!” Father Burton announced calmly. “Repeat the stroke!”
    Paula knew she should be horrified at this cold cruelty, but found that instead she was horribly fascinated. How much could a girl take? What other refinements could these men come up with to prove their complete mastery over the girls?
    The ninth lash was duly repeated. It was delivered low down, where the buttocks joined the thighs. The girl shrieked and managed a count before slumping in her chains.
    The sister stepped forward and held something to the girl’s face. It must be smelling salts, Paula thought as the girl struggled back to consciousness.
    Quite deliberately the punishment continued. Slowly the lashes were applied farther and farther up the girl’s back which arched in agony as she tried to press herself against the upright post of the T, her body making futile attempts to escape the pain.
    The fifteenth lash must have cracked around her ribs far enough up for the braided leather to have curled across her breast. She arched and twisted in silent anguish before slumping once again. And again she was revived to suffer the last six lashes, capable now only of hoarse yells at each crack of the whip, exhausted writhing and whispered counts.
    When at last it was over, Paula swallowed, suddenly aware that she had been so riveted to the scene in front of her that she had hardly breathed and her heart was hammering. The girl crawled away from the post on all fours and was ignored. Paula’s eyes followed her though; unable to tear themselves from the sight of the dark lines snaking almost right round the body. It was as if the whip had been searching for the intimate places where previously Paula might only have thought of a lover reaching. In some of the places though, the harsh caresses of the whip had split her skin. Paula watched her until she collapsed by the wall and a bucket of water was thrown over her. The water cascaded off, tinged pink from where she had bled.
    In the meantime the second girl had taken her place at the whipping post. She was condemned to only ten lashes for some trivial misdemeanour and took them stolidly enough. She was a more heavily built girl and only the final three lashes brought cries from her.
    The first two victims had been novices, but the third was an initiate. They were the more senior girls and allowed the white dresses which Paula had seen that morning. She stood accused of failing to obey one of the sisters properly. Father Burton sentenced her to fifteen lashes. But as she was senior, he decreed that she was to be turned round at the post.
    A murmur went round the watching girls. Paula glanced about her and saw an unmistakable look of excitement on the faces behind her. Maybe they were just glad it wasn’t them out there, she thought, but she knew her own reactions went deeper than that.
    The girl was tied with her back to the post, her arms pulled painfully back and out which left her breasts and the full expanse of her belly terribly exposed to the whips. But she faced her coming torture with a bold, almost challenging expression. In fact Paula could almost have sworn that she smiled at one of the men before the first lash cracked across the bush of hair at her pubis and