Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Feature Writer: XP
Feature Title: MIRROR, MIRROR
Published: 01.04.2025
Story Codes: Erotic Horror, Blasphemy, Demon Sex, Rape, Sadism, Preternatural
Note from XP: This was inspired very loosely by the novel of “Through the Looking-Glass” written by Lewis Carroll and Alice’s adventures beyond the mirror.
SYNOPSIS OF “MIRROR, MIRROR”
We see our reflection, but what else do we see? Our world but in reverse. A reflection of the oppose. What lays inverted beyond the silvered surface? Could we exist in another place, an identical place, that looks familiar, but isn’t the same? What would that world be like?
Sister Alice’s life has been one of duty. In many ways, her commitment to the Abrahamic God gave her purpose, connection, and a strong sense of contribution. She lives a simple, uncomplicated, but rather dull existence. Was there more to life than this? When she looks into the mirror, what does she see? Who is that, looking back at her?
Imagine a day when all this changes. Does it all start with minor details, or something substantive? What if, like her namesake from Lewis Carroll, Alice found herself in a place that was familiar but totally unfamiliar? A place where the rules had changed. Where her beliefs and understanding had been turned upside-down. What would that be like?
CHARACTERS OF “MIRROR, MIRROR”
- Sister Alice (18) — our protagonist, a novice nun in the “Handmaidens Of The Precious Blood”
- Sisters Violet (16) and Fiona (17) — novice nuns in the “Handmaidens Of The Precious Blood”
- Prioress Genevieve de Veres (57) — Prioress of an order of Benedictine nuns, “Handmaidens Of The Precious Blood”
Mirror, Mirror
CHAPTER ONE — THE WORLD OF LIGHT (1,859 WORDS)
As a soft gleam the light does fall,
A tender glow, so pure, so small;
It whispers faith, and love’s embrace,
A virginal touch, a soul’s grace.
Chastity’s vow, in radiant beam,
It guides the heart, a holy dream.
Through misty veils and clouds above,
It lifts the heart to realms of love.
Sister Alice had returned to her modest bed chamber. It had been a long, hard day but still, Sister Alice had a spring in her youthful step and a smile on her pretty face.
The Prioress Genevieve de Veres was a stern woman in her fifties and seemed unpleased with the progress, she and her postulants, Sisters, Violet and Fiona, had made. A difficult woman, Alice surmised. They were all to become novice nuns serving in this remote medieval-style monastery. They were all to take their solemn views and join the Benedictine Order of the Handmaidens Of The Precious Blood. It was considered a great honor to be accepted. And though life was hard, it was said to be rewarding — doing the necessary work of the Lord.
“It will be hard at first, but you must learn to divest yourself of the vanities of this world,” the Prioress would scorn the young postulants, “You must detach yourself from family and friends, from material things, and even from memories of your previous life. In doing so, you make room for the love of our Lord in your heart.”
She had been the custodian of their monastery for many decades, and the Priory seemed to be a serious but respectful place. At eighteen, Sister Alice was no longer a postulant. She looked forward to the ritual that would begin her life of devotion.
There were moments when she missed the little luxuries of normal life, like being able to gossip to her friends. In the monastery, after vespers, there was only silence. She missed being able to brush her long auburn hair in front of the mirror or even to wear a little make-up. She knew it was a little frivolous, and in the monastery, there were no such things. Or so she thought.
She wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse to serve under Prioress Genevieve de Veres. She hadn’t yet taken her solemn vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Maybe it wasn’t too late to leave. But where would she go? Her family expected her to live a Holy life dedicated to the church.
xxxxx
It was past the midnight hour. Everything was quiet during vespers. Maybe it was closer to three in the morning. The moon was full. Its silvery light shone through her open window and across her bedchamber.
“C-come … to me …”
Sister Alice had heard a faint voice. It had awakened her from her deep, dreamless slumber. Sister Alice was by nature very curious. She wondered if it had been just the remnants of an awakening dream. She’d definitely heard something or someone. What could it be?
So, she got up, dressed only in a thin white shift. And though the stone floors could be cool to the touch, she braved the common corridor that linked all the nunnery bed chambers, in her bare feet. She’d brought an oil lamp to help illuminate the unfamiliar dark passageways.
The monastery was centuries old. Sister Alice and the other postulants had even got themselves lost a few times. Maybe she was more familiar after the few weeks of service but still, the twists and turns of the dark passages were rather like a maze, especially at night.
“Come … to me ..”
There it was again. That illusive sound. It did sound like a voice, more like a whisper. But, maybe it was just the wind? She followed it — hoping to find its eventual source.
Now she’d entered a part of the nunnery that she had never been before. She looked back over her shoulder in the darkness, momentarily unsure. In the passageway in front, she had found steps leading downwards. The darkness seemed to consume the lamp light. But still, she pressed on. Maybe she’d better give up this folly, she thought, and return to the safety of her cosy bed.
“Come … come … come …”
The sound caught her young ears again. It couldn’t be far. It did sound like a young voice. Maybe one of the other postulants was lost? She descended the steep spiral staircase and came to the door of the furnace room.
It wasn’t locked. It was ajar. Sister Alice pushed the door open and stepped inside. The light from her oil lamp illuminated the room beyond. There was nothing inside the chamber that gave any clue to the source of the eerie sound. Could have been the old furnace? The furnace was lit and glowed with an eerie red illumination? She didn’t think so.
There, against the far wall was a standing mirror. A mirror, on its own, wasn’t anything unusual, but in the monastery, vanity was discouraged. She thought there were no mirrors.
Impetuous still, Sister Alice moved in front of the mirror to see her reflection. What was she expecting? Of course, it was her reflection that appeared reddish from the furnace’s burning glow. The reflection looked back at her dressed in her plain, white shift, and bare feet. Her long auburn hair was tied in a ponytail. Her skin had turned so pale. She hadn’t seen herself in all the time she’d been at the monastery and seeing herself again felt rather novel.
There you are, she said to herself. Her reflection smiled back. The darkness seemed to envelop her. Reflected in the mirror behind her, she noticed there was a crucifix that hung on the opposite wall. The furnace room felt warm compared to the coldness of the corridors. She felt goosebumps — but not because of the temperature.
“Take it off …” said the whisper.
Sister Alice looked a little shocked. She could have sworn she’d heard a whisper.
“Yes-s-s … take it off …”
There it was again, that secretive voice. She placed the oil lamp upon the floor and looked at her-reddish-self in the mirror. Her reflection looked back at her. It seemed unnerving after weeks of seclusion, of self-denial and even self-loathing, of any form of vanity, to even dare to look upon herself. But she couldn’t help to look, almost captivated at her self-image standing so vulnerable in her thin white shift.
“Take it off,” said the whisper, “Show me how beautiful you are.”
Sister Alice found herself obeying the bizarre whisper. She blinked. Her nakedness was now on full display. She smiled. Her reflection smiled back. She seemed pleased with her nakedness. Her body was slight. Her breasts are small, almost pubescent. The soft down of her light auburn pubic hair just covered the tip of her mons.
Her reflection seemed emboldened by her compliance.
“See yourself … see how beautiful you are … see how delicious you are …”
Sister Alice frowned at the compliments, but her reflection just smiled back. She watched with a strange detachment as her hands wandered over her delicate skin. It felt like electricity. Her fingertips began to touch her neck, her clavicle, and then her naked breasts. Her soft hands cupped her small breast meat. They began to gently squeeze her sensitive nipples until they became hard little points against her moist palms.
“You’re so delightful … just look at you … you make me wet, just watching you …”
Sister Alice felt a growing dampness and heat glowing between her slightly parted legs. Not unpleasant. It just felt taboo. Vanity was wrong. She was about to take her vows. But still, she remained there, naked before her reflection. The warmth from between her narrow thighs only intensified at the thought of her mischief. Her fingers traced the shape of her stomach as they descended downwards towards the heat.
“You’re so gorgeous … just looking at you fills me with lust … I want you …”
Yes, thought Sister Alice, she felt horny. She watched her reflection parting her slick labia. Her clitoris was already erect, standing proud in front of the topmost part of her labia. Her reflection began to touch it, stroke it, press it, squeeze it, making her quiver and shudder most delightfully …
Stop! Stop! Stop! … Please … don’t stop!
“See how irresistible you are … how horny you feel … your cunt looks so wet and juicy …”
She watched her reflection begin to vulgarly finger herself. Her reflection pressed two fingers inside herself, moving them in and out in a distinctive fucking motion … she felt a burning pleasure building inside her groin …
“Yes, it feels good, doesn’t it? Fuck yourself … faster, do it faster … “
She watched her fingers moving faster and more urgently … sparks …
“Oh yes ..”
Sparks of pleasure quivered through her perineum … and just as the crescendo began to reach its peak, her reflection stopped. Sister Alice panted … she watched herself bringing her oily cunt-flavored fingers to her lips … tasting her sour and salty cunt juices. She stuck her tongue out, at her reflection, daring to lick her filthy fingers before immediately resuming to finger-fuck herself again.
Her reflection looked back at her daringly … lewdly … wantonly … lustfully … as she watched … unable to look away … mesmerised by her own self-lust.
“Masturbate! … Masturbate! … the joys of sin …Masturbate, like the dirty little whore you are … do it … make yourself cum on your fingers … it feels so good, doesn’t it … yes … cum, cum, cum …”
Her reflection stood wider. Opening her legs further, she thrust her hips back and forth. She was pressing four fingers of her left into her tight little cunt-hole, whilst rubbing her pronounced clitoris with her right — masturbating it like a penis. Her breath had become short and ragged as if there wasn’t enough air around her.
Her reflection’s face snarled back at her with evil intent. The pleasure was intense. Building up, faster and faster … she was almost at the point of no return … her oily, cunt juices spat from her angry fuck-hole over the mirror’s surface as her fingers moved in a blur of desperate motion.
“Fuck yer, do it, do it … cum over me … squirt your juices … I want you … I want you …”
Sister Alice bucked against her miscreant wet hand. Her cunt slime and girl cum sprayed angrily over the mirror’s reflective surface in front of her — distorting her reflection — even more, poured down her shaking legs, and over her bare feet. Was it her imagination but was the crucifix on the wall behind appeared to be inverted? She noticed it turn but couldn’t care less …
“Aaaarghhhhhh …” she groaned unabated watching her cum in the eerie light of the the furnace.
A distorted face appeared momentarily behind her cum-covered reflection. Did she imagine it? Was there someone else there watching her? She turned quickly to see, but there was nothing. Only silence and her rasping and ragged breath. Nobody was there.
She silently sighed in relief for not being seen in her trespass. She quickly gathered her shift and quietly returned to her bedchamber.
The mirror was still dripping with cunt juices. Her reflection watched her leave. It smiled. Sister Alice’s misadventures had only just begun.
xxxxx
CHAPTER TWO — THE WORLD OF DARK (1,879 WORDS)
But lo! The sensual dark does creep and crawl,
A shadowed hand, a wicked call;
Temptation’s voice, so sweet, so sly,
Leads souls to sin, to fall, to die.
In endless night, where echoes spin,
The chains of wickedness begin.
A chilling breath, a weight unseen,
The dark consumes where light had been.
Prioress Genevieve de Veres was an austere woman in her late fifties. Among her order of nuns, she had a secretive reputation for being unnecessarily cruel to her underlings — especially to the young postulants. Some found her punishments, which were often for seemingly minor offensives, to be unjust and unfair — but to the outside world, her nuns dared to say nothing except “Omnia bene,” (all is well).
“Divest yourself of the vanities of this world, I say,” the Prioress would scorn the young novices, “Detach yourself from family and friends, from material things, and even from memories of your previous life. In doing so, you make room for the love of our Lord in your heart.”
Sister Alice had heard those serious words many times. She hung her head low in shame as she stood before the Prioress. Guilt burned in her heart. The shame of sin was her cross. It seemed that her miscreant adventure with the hidden mirror in the furnace room had not gone unnoticed. Someone else had been there. An informant of such — maybe the old walls of the medieval-style monastery had preternatural eyes and ears of their own — somehow the Prioress knew and seemed unimpressed with Sister Alice’s waywardness.
“Your behaviour is aberrant,” the Prioress paced before the young nervous nun, “You know that this will not go unpunished. You’re supposed to set a positive example for the younger postulants to follow — instead, you behave like a perverted harlot — like a Jezebel …”
The Prioress held a small, firm leather strap in her hand. Sister Alice’s eyes widened. Yes, she’d heard about the Prioress’ punishments. There was no escaping the outcome. She could beg for leniency but it would not come — it never did — she’d seen other sisters humiliated and chastised through this awful process. She could only take solace in the fact that it would be over quickly and she’d never stand before another mirror ever again!
“Remove thy shift … face the crucifix … and bend over the prie-dieu,” ordered the Prioress, “Don’t clench … or your pain will be much worse. Do you understand?”
She nodded in obedience. Sister Alice didn’t understand. She stripped naked and knelt over the prie-dieu as the Prioress had ordered. The Prioress seemed to pause as she waited for the pain to come.
“Wickedness. Depravity. Wantoness,” said the Prioress, as if praying to herself.
Sister Alice felt the Prioress’ hand touch her naked backside gently. Her fingers lightly stroked her skin. Her fingers followed the curve of her bottom into the trench of her anus and down to the back of her vagina. Was this a test? Why didn’t she just get on with it? But the Prioress’ fingers danced lightly over the base of her vagina, making Sister Alice involuntarily begin to moisten. Suddenly she felt something small but irritating being pressed into her anal opening.
“It’s a small slice of raw ginger,” said the Prioress, “When inserted in your anus its juice can cause much discomfort. It will teach you a lesson, you’ll never forget — if you clench, the ginger fluids will irritate your bowels and amplify your suffering many times.”
Sister Alice, even without moving, could already feel the effect of the ginger juice. Instinctively, she knew she must not clench … even the smallest of movements felt very unpleasant.
“Wickedness!” moaned the Prioress.
WACK!
The Prioress brought the leather strap down across the delicate skin of her backside. The sharp stinging sensation made Sister Alice gasp — she involuntarily clenched her buttocks — and was instantly propelled into complete agony. The strap left a throbbing red mark but the ginger stung her insides.
“Depravity!” moaned the Prioress even louder.
WACK!
The Prioress hit her again. Pain on pain. The sharpness felt twice as bad as the first blow. Sister Alice’s legs were trembling from the pain. She bit into her lower lip to stop from crying out — but still, she couldn’t stop herself from clenching — the burning throb combined with her internal stinging sensation brought her to tears … she began to sob uncontrollably.
“Wantoness!” cried the Prioress.
WACK!
Her fingernails clung onto the edges of the prie-dieu with the intense pain — but it was just too much — her weak bladder gave way. Urine sprayed down between her thighs, adding insult to injury.
“You filthy whore!” cried the Prioress, though there seemed to be some satisfaction in her tone, as if the young nun’s sufferance, had been somehow rewarding to her, “Get dressed and get out!”
xxxxx
Sister Alice cried silently to herself. Her body hurt all over. Yes, vanity was considered a serious sin — but somehow the punishment didn’t seem to fit the crime. She sat on the edge of her straw-stuffed mattress and examined herself. There were reddish-purple marks across her bare bottom — the result of a severe whipping — her anus still throbbed from the figging.
Curiosity had been one of Sister Alice’s greatest strengths but also one of her greatest weaknesses. The crime of self-love had gained her the unwanted attention of the Prioress. It had been vanity that caused her to inflict the punishment upon the nun in a manner that Sister Alice didn’t quite understand — it was as if the Prioress had enjoyed it.
She wondered who had ratted on her. She remembered vaguely a face in the mirror that had been mottled and obscured by her sexual juices that had covered the mirror’s surface. Something bothered her about the unexplainable presence of the inverted crucifix — could this be the work of the devil? Was it the reddish glow of sexual temptation? Was it the bizarre perfume of her arousal mixed with the smell of burnt things? Why was the mirror there in the first place? It seemed so out of place.
In the quietness of the mirror, there seemed to have been a concentration of wickedness. Was it her voice talking to her or was it something unnatural that had inspired her to act out this bizarre behaviour? Sister Alice knew only a few things about evil. She remembered that the Prioress had said on many occasions that they all needed to be vigilant — to always be on their guard — that evil and wickedness were everywhere. And that the devil was a beast in the hunt of souls.
Had she experienced something unholy? Had the Prioress’ punishment put her back on the righteous path? So many questions … sleep finally took her … but even then the subconscious pain sparked like stabs of lightening against the inky blackness of the full moon sky … And her dream brought her back to the reddish glow of the unholy furnace room … she saw a young, pretty nun … not so dissimilar to herself standing naked before the mirror.
It was obvious from the girl’s dainty movements and her low moans that she was slowly masturbating in the dim reddish glow. Moving closer, Sister Alice saw the face of Sister Fiona — one of the postulants under her privy. Sister Fiona’s eyes seemed transfixed in her image reflected in the mirror and was obviously enjoying the sensation created through her sinfulness. Vanity was wrong, but the young nun’s naughty fingers seemed to be caught up in her own self-pleasuring.
Sister Alice had a clear view — as if she was standing right behind her. The scene before her seemed to take on an eerily erotic feeling. Looking beyond the masturbating nun, Sister Alice noticed that the reflection of the crucifix, on the rear wall, was definitely inverted — a sign of temptation — Wickedness. Depravity. Wantonness.
Without thinking, she began to realise that watching the postulant dance upon her eager fingers was affecting her too. A weird, duel arousal filled Sister Alice’s dreaming mind as if the masturbating girl’s movements — were masturbating her at the same moment.
“Faster …” whispered Sister Alice, “Yes, faster …”
Sisters Fiona seemed to respond to her deviant wishes, increasing their mutual pleasure. She could feel everything that the postulant was feeling. She felt the postulant’s grip, as she fondled her sensitive, ripe nipples. The postulant’s sopping wet cunt was her itchy cunt. She felt the postulant’s fingers gripping her clitoris and penetrating her dirty little anus.
”Fuck yourself! Yes! Do it … do it faster … more fingers … aarghhh …” demanded Sister Alice.
The young nun’s fingers seemed to animate at her command. Two fingers became three. Three became four. Soon it seemed that both were close to a mutual orgasm … rubbing even more urgently … the postulant pleasuring the both of them, towards a powerful orgasm … pleasure upon pleasure …
xxxxx
Sister Alice awake.
Her lucid dream still filled er mind. Her cunt was already itchy, wet, and open. In the silence of the night she began to touch herself as she imagined standing in the furnace room. It was as if the feeling was unstoppable — as if the penalty for this sinful crime no longer mattered. She immediately thought of the hungry mirror.
The enchanted mirror.
The voice that had encouraged her indiscretions — telling her to touch herself, to explore her self-lover, to masturbate in self-worship. Was it her own voice that had encouraged her to vulgarly perform for her own self-indulgence? Or was it the voyeur who obviously enjoyed her miscreant performance?
Her recent dream had been of duel pleasure … she couldn’t think of Sister Fiona in the same naive way … it was as if the two of them had somehow performed this sinful act in a strangely duality.
Lesbianism had never crossed her mind before. It just wasn’t something that she had ever imagined. She was, after all, to give herself to the Lord. Physical pleasure was not a consideration. Vanity and sexuality were to be put aside — to make room in her heart for the work of the Lord. But now she felt differently. She could imagine the sensation of two young women, touching each other in their private places. As she began to touch herself, she imagined it was the hands and fingers of Sister Fiona touching her.
The thought was powerful enough to bring her to the brink of orgasmic delight very quickly … but was she hesitating? Or maybe she was just playing with her thoughts … extending the wickedness of these sensations … holding herself at the very edge … not ready yet to bring on her orgasm?
Yes, her thoughts took her back to the whipping. She remembered how she trembled at the cruelty of the Prioress’ touch. It had felt unnecessarily lecherous. Deliberately sexual. Touching her in private places. Touching her cunt. Touching her anus. In her mind’s eye, she saw an insidious deliberateness in everything that had brought her to this point — was the dark magick of mirror the doing of Prioress? Was she some kind of a witch — and not a Sister of the Lord? Was she in league with the Devil?
”Aaarghhhhh …” groaned Sister Alice, no longer able to hold back the wantonness as her orgasmed made her tremble and shake like never before.
xxxxx
CHAPTER THREE — THE WORLD OF FIRE (2,235 WORDS)
And in the fire, a demon stirs,
A twisted form that snarls and blurs;
Evil’s breath, so harsh, so wild,
Pervertedness, a witch’s child.
It feeds on souls, it drinks their tears,
Turning pure hearts to endless fears.
In flames, the soul shall burn, shall writhe,
‘Til naught remains but ash and strife.
It had been over a week since her punishment. Sisters Alice had tried desperately to thrown herself back into her duties under the ever-watchful eye of the Prioress. But there had been the … Wickedness. Depravity. Wantonness. The three words had been branded into her mind. Her dreams only amplified the strangeness she now felt. She’d been masturbating herself frequently. Her fingers soaked in cunt juice. She’d felt an unnerving feeling of repression, guilt, self-loathing, and denial within the old creepy walls of the monastery. But that didn’t stop her — it seemed to only encourage her pervertedness. Her fantasies only multiplying and getting darker night after night — she didn’t feel Holy at all — quite the opposite.
”Sister Alice,” said Sister Fiona, “The Prioress has asked for you!”
She sounded as if she was hiding something — as if she was on the edge of breaking down.
”What is it?” asked Sister Alice.
The young postulant didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be hanging her wimple-covered head in shame.
“She didn’t say … she said that I was to fetch you and return immediately to the furnace room … oh, Sister …I did a shameful thing … I think she might have found out …”
”The furnace room? What … What did you do?” asked Sister Alice.
But Sister Alice already knew. The dream had been so vivid. It had felt so real … was it possible that it could have been real? She shivered at the intensity of the taboo pleasure. The young postulant looked terrified. Even now, in Sister Alice’s conscious state, she recalled every detail — every unholy sensation — it immediately made her moisten between her legs.
”We must go to her Holiness,” urged Sister Alice.
xxxxx
Sister Alice decented the spiral staircase and entered the furnace room with Sister Fiona in tow. Sister Alice was already aroused. The young postulant was shaking but Sister Alice pushed her forward through the open openway.
The furnace seemed to burn hotter and more furiously than Sister Alice remembered. She noticed the prie-dieu was positioned beneath the crucifix that was fixed, the right way up, on the wall opposite the strange standing mirror.
”Ah, Sister Alice,” said the austere Prioress, who completely ignored the cowling postulant, “It seems that one of your postulants cannot follow the rules of our monastery — what are the three rules?”
”Chastity. Poverty. Obedience,” replied Sister Alice obediently.
”Exactly. And what happens to those who disobey these rules?” asked the Prioress.
Sister Alice couldn’t help but notice the leather strap in the Prioress’ hand as she stood next to the furnace. The Prioress appeared to be angry. Sister Alice felt her cunt pur. Sister Alice’s eyes momentarily fell upon the prie-dieu. She remembered intensely the awful burning pain of the raw ginger dildo that had been pressed into her anus — its juices caused a horrible stinging pain. The Prioress noticed Sister Alice’s reaction and grinned.
”Undress,” she shouted at the young postulant, “Remove thy Holy robe that you don’t deserve to wear. Your behaviour is aberrant and unbecoming of one who seeks to pledge herself to the Lord!”
The postulant began to sob but complied with the Prioress’ order. Soon she was naked before Sister Alice and the Prioress. Sister Alice looked upon the body of her fellow postulant with a new kind of lust and sexual intent. Her eyes roamed over her naked flesh as she imagined touching her in ways that she knew were sinful and immoral.
“Kneel, face the crucifix on the rear wall. Bend over the prie-dieu. Do not turn around. Do not move until I tell you so. Do it now, you filthy little harlot! You think I wouldn’t find out what you did here the other night? You think I don’t know what goes on in every corner … every crevice … of this monastery? You’re a sinning bitch … and you must face the consequences.”
Sister Alice watched excitedly.
The sight of the naked young girl — so vulnerable— seemed to secretly stimulate her sexually. Her cunt was more than just moist. Sexual fluids flowed down the inside of her thighs. She pretended to see it was nothing other than a procedure — but that was far from the truth — she remembered her torment, and secretly wanted to watch the Prioress punish her fragile postulant. Yes, stick your dirty fingers into her precious virginity. Fuck her! She thought.
“Do you know why you are here?” asked the Prioress, turning to Sister Alice.
“She’s … my … responsibility ….” reluctantly replied Sister Alice.
As the words left her lips, she saw that she could take the fall for this — if she was careless.
“Exactly,” said the Prioress, “So, it’s your responsibility to carry out the punishment.”
The punishment? Sister Alice hadn’t seen that one coming. The Prioress handed her the thick leather strap. Sister Alice, for moment, wasn’t sure what to do. She felt secretly to blame for the young postulant’s misbehaviour. Her dreamy whispers had pushed the young girl as their mutual pleasure had taken them both over the top.
But it was just a dream.
It wasn’t even real. It couldn’t have been.
The Prioress pressed the instrument of punishment into her hand. She held up the small carved wedge of raw ginger as if ringing a little bell, shaking it before Sister Alice’s eyes.
”You know how this goes … And if you don’t beat her hard enough for her crimes … I will see to it that you get twice her punishment. Do you understand?”
Sister Alice understood perfectly.
”Wickedness. Depravity. Wantonness …” said Sister Alice under her breath.
The Prioress heard her.
Again the Prioress grinned at Sister Alice, with evil intent, as if to encourage her … Sister Alice looked down at her young postulant, in the reddish glow of the old furace, as she leant across the prie-dieu. She looked at herself in the mirror — her reflection looked back as if to say “Do as thy will, as it is the way of the Dark Lord!”
It felt almost surreal.
Sister Alice ran her fingers over the young girl’s bottom. As her feverish fingers traced the shape of her narrow buttocks, Sister Alice felt her vagina gushing with sexual arousal … she was soaked beneath her gown. She could even smell herself. A strong sourish pungency filled the furnace room. Her fingers found the young girl’s anus and pressed the raw ginger into her bowels.
Sister Fiona twitched awkwardly as the raw ginger began to bite into the delicate folds of her brown flower. The itchy ginger fluids mixed with her anal residues. She dared not turn around or complain — only small whimpers of discomfort escaped her lips.
”Good girl,” said the Prioress to Sister Alice, “You will go far if you obey me.”
The Prioress stood back out of the view of the young postulant, whose crying eyes faced the wall. The Prioress opened the front of her long, dark gown, under which she was completely naked. Sister Alice could see the Prioress’ vagina was open and wet … just like her own. The Prioress made it no secret before Sister Alice’s eyes as she began to masturbate herself.
”Wickedness!” cried Sister Alice.
WACK!
She brought the solid leather strap down hard against the delicate buttocks of her young postulant, who literally jerked forward against the hard wooden surface of the prayer table. The air seemed to have been knocked out of her from the veracity of the first blow. She’d clenched hard. Sister Alice instinctively knew how the tiny piece of ginger was worming its cruelty inside her bowels.
”Depravity!”
WACK!
The second blow was even harder. Her postulant was in serious distress. She’d never experienced anything remotely as torturous. Yet, for Sister Alice, it seemed to feel the opposite. It felt so arousing. Yes, she liked this sensation. Dealing with the punishment had brought her almost to orgasm without even touching herself. She panted — not from the exhaustion of administering the beating — but from the fervent delight she felt from her unnecessarily sadistic behaviour.
Sister Alice momentarily looked over her shoulder. The Prioress made it no secret that she was enjoying watching the cruelty too. She seemed to be pressing her thick wooden crucifix into her greedy, wet cunt. Masturbating with the inverted symbol of their faith.
”Wantonness!” cried Sister Alice.
WACK!
xxxxx
The punishment was finally over.
Sister Alice had lost count of the blows that she’d delivered upon her poor postulant. The furnace room stank of sour cunt juices. Sister Alice felt her legs almost give way from the power of her orgasm. The Prioress was leaning back against the wall as she licked her filthy, oily fingers, that had been fucking herself, whilst she watched her reluctant disciple perform her sadistic ritual.
The young postulant’s skin was criss-crossed with red marks, raw and broken in some places. Blood trickled down her flesh. She still lay crippled in pain over the prie-dieu. She didn’t move and the sobbing had stopped — it seemed that she’d passed out from the extreme abuse.
The Prioress walked over as if to inspect Sister Alice’s handiwork. She ran her finger over the thrashed skin of the postulant’s bottom and brought her bloody finger to her lips — tasting her blood as if it were a delicious delicacy.
“Undress,” ordered the Prioress.
Sister Alice thought the Prioress was unpleased with her. Did she intend to beat her again?
”You have much to learn about … them,” she said as she undressed herself too, “Wickedness. Depravity. Wantonness … they are the foundation of our beliefs.”
”I don’t understand.”
The Prioress pointed to the crucifix that now hung inverted above the unconscious postulant.
”I sense an inert power in you — the power of fire — that, like me, can be honed and developed … if you dare?” stated the Prioress, “Come, kneel between my legs and show me your fealty … and I will show you the fires of eternal pleasure … that only our Dark Lord can bring.”
Sister Alice did as she was told. Naked and shaken from her ordeal, She knelt before the wicked Prioress.
”By now you have realized that this place is not what it seems. The mirror. The vision. The pleasure. Your dreams … yes, I know about it all … I cannot tell you what it is — you must experience it for yourself — are you ready to take your vow? To bow down before the Dark Lord … and to join us … doing the Dark Lord’s bidding?”
”Yes,” Sister Alice answered.
”Masturbate before me … show me your devotion … kiss my vagina … and repeat after me … O Lord of the Abyss, thou who art crowned in flames, we, thy supplicants, do call upon thee.”
She repeated the Prioress’ prayer word for word and then lavished the Prioress’ ugly dank hole with open-mouth kisses. She could taste the sourish fluids excreted from her evil hole and felt the sticky heat rising from her throbbing loins.
“Let thy Wickedness rise from between our legs as your serpent uncoils, erect and prone,” continued the Prioress, “Grant us the depths of Depravity, that we may revel in the undoing of purity, and let Wantonness come forth in your true form.”
Sister Alice repeated the words, masturbating herself furiously. She leant closer to continue her cunnilingus. She felt the Prioress face-fucking her — pressing her oily cunt over her face as she held the back of her head, as the Prioress continued her dark chanting prayer.
“By thy fell name, we renounce the light and embrace the endless fires of chaos. Let your demons possess us, so that you may reign in Wickedness, Depravity, and Wantonness!”
Sister Alice repeated the words of her dark prayer.
The Prioress reached for an object that had gone unnoticed until that moment. A shiny black contraption that appeared to be phallic. The Prioress pressed one end of the contraption between her open labia. Double-end, with a kind of harness, the Prioress used it to secure the obscene device in place, half of its phallic length was now buried inside the Prioress’ dirty cunt-hole — the other stood outwards from her hips — a curved cock that made her look Baphometic.
”Bent over the postulant,” ordered the Prioress.
Alice did as she was told. Her cunt pressing against the backside of the unconscious Sister Fiona. The postulant’s body felt soft and sexy to the touch. Skin against skin. Unnatural desire coursed through her veins. Lust and desire. Alice looked back over her shoulder as the Prioress began to press the blunt tip of the strap-on against the rosebud of her anus — sodomy was to be the order of the fervent night.
The postulant’s blood seemed to be a kind of evil baptism. She rubbed it over her tits and clitoris. Then, using her bloody fingers, she continued the masturbate herself, as she felt the thick, ribbed dildo began to slowly penetrate her. Fire and blood. Was this what it meant to become a “Handmaiden Of The Precious Blood”?
“Hail the … Wickedness, Depravity, and Wantonness!” groaned the Prioress as she thrust the fake cock deeper into her willing new accomplice.
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THE END?
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