Feature Writer: Jacqueline Jillinghoff /
Feature Title: THE SAINT AGNES PASSION 7 /
Story Codes: Mf, f/f, F/f, Drunk/Drugged, FF, FDom, Spanking, Oriental, First, WS, Voyeurism /
Copyright: © 2013 by Jacqueline Jillinghoff
Synopsis: Catholic school does something to a girl / It is Holy Week at Saint Agnes Academy, and Kristen, a freshman, is struggling to keep a lid on her most sinful thoughts. Sister Patrice, her religion instructor, discovers her weakness, and together they find a way to confront temptation /

 

The Saint Agnes Passion

Chapter 7

“Wake up, little girl.”

Strong fingers pinched her chin. Kristen tried to shake them off, but they only gripped harder, raising her head. Her eyes flickered open. Sister Saint Augustine was standing in front of her, her face up close. Her expression was neither kind nor angry — just blank, clinical. It was the lack of emotion that frightened Kristen even more than the fact that she couldn’t move.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Sister asked.

She tried to say all, right, but it came out muffled. Something round and hard filled her mouth. She couldn’t close her teeth.

“What was that?”

“What’s going on?” Kristen asked, but it came out, “Uh-ss oh-ee uh?”

“Sorry, but we must take precautions. Things might get loud. You might be more comfortable if you stood up straight.”

Gradually, as sleep wore off, she became aware her shoulders hurt. Her arms were stretched above her, strapped to the ends of what seemed to be a large wooden X, and as she hung by her full weight, they felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Her waist was strapped to the center of the X, her ankles to the low ends, with her feet flat on the floor. She pushed up, locking her knees, and the stress went away.

“Eh ee O,” Kristen demanded.

“Let you go? We’re just getting started, precious. Welcome to our Good Friday service. Here you will have a taste — a very small taste — of the sufferings Our Lord went through for your sake.”

She held up in Kristen’s face an evil-looking flyswatter, a stiff black wand with a black, heart-shaped slat at the end. Then she lowered it out of sight and smacked the insides of Kristen’s naked thighs —

“Father — Son … and Holy Spirit.”

She smacked Kristen’s naked pussy, hard.

“Nggahhh!” Tears sprang into the girl’s eyes. She bit down on the thing in her mouth. “Uh-eezh!” she said, trying to say “Please.”

With the edge of the black heart, Sister traced a figure-eight about Kristen’s titties. Lightly, she tapped the girl’s nipples, which grew hard from fear. At last, she raised the stick, as though preparing to deliver a blow. Kristen recoiled, but she had nowhere to go. She pulled at her straps.

“Uh-eezh, uh-eezh, uh-eezh,” she repeated, more quietly each time.

Sister only grinned and tapped Kristen’s cheek.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can’t risk leaving any marks on my spotless lamb. But we do have a substitute.”

She stepped aside, and Kristen understood why she couldn’t talk. Sister Patrice, naked, and hanging by her wrists on a pair of chains, was gagged with a red ball strapped to her face. Kristen must have been gagged in the same way.

The cuffs on Sister’s wrists were leather, with a trim of fur puffed about the edges, and tiny silver locks that fastened the chains to silver rings. Her ankles and thighs were tied with tightly seamed layers of rope, expertly knotted. The chains were too short to let her stand: only her toes touched the floor. She twisted in her shackles, slowly, like a sack of flour. The pain must have been awful, but when their eyes met, Kristen saw only resignation.

And the room. Where was it? A squat drum of pitted gray stones, only a foot higher than Kristen’s outstretched arms. Twilight pressed against a trinity of lancet windows, placed evenly about the circle, that cut the walls from floor to ceiling. On both sides of each window, paschal candles stood burning in brass sticks, and as the day faded, their glow grew continually on Patty’s nude body.

Sure. They were at the top of tower, in a surplus room this school’s bonehead architect couldn’t get rid of and couldn’t find a use for. It was good for nothing but storing a few old student desks, and Auggie’s chamber of horrors.

God, she was such a cunt.

“I’m not as bad as I seem,” she said, as if she knew what Kristen was thinking. “My servants are always happy when they leave.”

She laid her whip on a table beside the cross and picked up a couple of gadgets. She held one up to Kristen’s face. It as copper clamp with ridged rubber tips, like something you’d get in a hardware store. She poked the other against Kristen’s tit. The spring was so tight it resisted her fingers: to bend it, she had to squeeze the levers in her fist. Then, just as the jaws widened to their fullest extent, she let go, and the thing snapped shut on Kristen’s nipple.

“Aghhh!”

“Oh, does that hurt?”

“Ugnh!”

“Yes it does.” She pulled the clamp off, but not before stretching Kristen’s titty as far as it would go.

“But these aren’t for you. They’re for your girlfriend.”

She limped back and, slipping the clamps up from below, placed one behind each of Patty’s fluffy pink nipples. The pressure puffed them up like balloons and turned the tiny bumps around them to garnet. Auggie gave Patty’s tits a wobble, testing the grip, and Patty moaned through her gag — with pleasure, Kristen thought.

“And now your other end,” Auggie said.

She chose another gadget from the table. Kristen’s couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. It was shaped kind of like the ace of spades, with a round base and a tapering head, but it was bright green. Auggie squeezed goo all over it from a tube she also kept on the table.

“You see, everything must be done just so,” she said as she smeared the gel over the plastic. “Nadab and Abihu were consumed with fire because they didn’t follow our Lord’s instructions to the letter. It’s a painstaking process, but I’m sure the good Lord will be pleased with our sacrifice.”

She went back to Patty and swiveled her around on her tiptoes. Kristen understood now what was happening. Sister Patrice had such a full, shapely ass, and Auggie was about to violate it. She angled the blunt end of the green plug into the shadow-line between the hemispheres. “Relax, dear,” she said, and pushed. The lube did its work: when she took her hand away, the green base clung to Patty’s open buttocks. Patty moaned again, and this time there was no mistaking what it meant.

“She does love that,” Auggie said. “But we’ve saved the best for last.”

She went back to the table and picked up yet another device. This one looked like a microphone, but the head was solid rubber.

“This is for you,” Auggie said. She brought it over, with two long strands of rope, the same kind of Patty was tied with. Methodically, she tied the microphone to the inside of Kristen’s thigh, so high up the rubber head jutted against her pussy.

“That should do it,” she said.

She snapped a switch on the mike. It began to buzz, softly, and in an instant, waves of pleasure swept through Kristen’s body in every direction. She resisted, staring defiantly into Auggie’s eyes, determined not to be controlled. But Auggie had time, and a fallback plan.

“More?” she asked.

Reaching down, she clicked the switch again. The buzzing got louder. Kristen thrashed her hips, trying to shake the thing off, but the ropes were too strong. The head only seemed to push harder against her clitty. She kept up her furious look for an eternity, but even eternity must end, and she knew she must surrender. It just felt too fucking good. Her eyes rolled into her head. She fell limp, sustained only by the straps around her wrists. And she awaited the inevitable.

“That’s better,” she heard Auggie say.

When she could see again, Auggie already had her whip in her hand and had raised it over Patty’s head.

“Ah, you’re back with us,” she said to Kristen. “Watch closely. This is what happens to all sinful whores.”

The whip whistled though the air and landed with a whap on Patty’s ass.

“Say it,” Auggie said. “‘I am a sinful whore.'”

The words came out broken and muffled, but Kristen understood them. The whip whistled again, and still again, and cherry stains appeared on Patty’s ass, like kisses from a misshapen mouth. With each blow she begged, but it was impossible to tell whether she was begging for the punishment to stop or to continue. It was hard to care anymore, anyway. The cries grew distant as the buzzing expanded in Kristen’s head, and she herself began to rave. Her throat burned with the strain, and an endless, rattling orgasm possessed her like the demons of the Gerasene. She had become the swine, leaping into the sea.

Click.

The buzzing didn’t stop. It only simmered down. The softer vibrations were soothing, in a way, but the crisis had passed. Kristen hung exhausted on the cross.

“Let that be a lesson,” Auggie said. “You will not take my sub from me. If you want her, you will submit to me as well. And I trust you won’t say anything to anyone about this, since you’d also have to tell on Sister Patrice.”

Keys clinked, and raising her head with an effort, Kristen saw Auggie unlock Sister Patrice’s chains. Sister fell on her face, her legs folded beneath her. The base of the butt plug stared up at Kristen like a blank green eye, as though Sister Patrice was looking at the world through her ass.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Auggie said. “Think it over.”

She went out of sight behind the cross, and down a curling flight of stairs. A door below clapped shut.

It was a long time before Sister Patrice reached behind and undid her gag.

“I’m coming,” she said. “I’ll free you.”

She sat up and unfastened the clamps, which left ragged red bite marks on her tits. She couldn’t stand with her ankles and thighs bound, and so she crawled to the cross, where she loosened the straps at Kristen’s feet. Then she hauled herself up, and when she could balance, their bodies pressed together, she reached up and undid the wrist straps. Kristen fell forward when Sister unbuckled the strap at her waist, and they tumbled to the floor.

The freeing of her body released her emotions: she wept as Sister Patrice pulled the ball from her mouth, but she despised all offers of comfort. Her own body had betrayed her. Sister Patrice had betrayed her even more.

“God damn you!” she cried.

“Darling—”

“God damn you to fucking hell!” She broke free of Sister’s arms and scuttled away on her ass, kicking with her heels. “You let her do it! You told her about us and you fucking let her do it.”

“She said she’d tell,” Sister said feebly.

They sat in silence. Sister’s eyes were cast down. A tear fell to her ravaged breast.

Kristen, unmoved, turned her attention to the buzzing thing on her leg, which had become a distraction. It was surprisingly easy to untie. Auggie had used some kind of clever slipknot. The coils melted away with a tug. She stopped crying and stood up.

“I never would have told,” she said. “I never would have admitted anything.”

She clicked the vibrator off.

“I saw you, y’know — right before I passed out. You looked like an angel. And I was so happy, I thought you were going to save me. You were going to carry me away. But you didn’t.”

“I need to be punished.”

“No you don’t,” Kristen said. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“It is against the law.”

“I don’t care about the law. It’s my body. I can give it to anybody I want. And I’m not sharing you with that crazy bitch. If you think being with me is wrong, and you gotta let her beat you for it, you can fuck off. — Where are my clothes?”

Sister gestured toward a low shelf on the table.

They said nothing more as Kristen got dressed. She left Sister Patrice in the candlelight, naked and shivering.

But she took the vibrator.

THE END OF CHAPTER SEVEN