Feature Writer: Cheeslord
Feature Title: THE ABBESS 2
Published: 09.08.2025
Story Codes: Erotic Horror
Synopsis: Demonic possession of nuns, human sacrifice, weight gain.
Author’s Notes: The Abbess: (Chapter 2 of 9)
The Abbess 2
Following her ascension to the rank of Abbess, Emelda wasted no time in reorganising the operation of the Abbey. Tithes were increased to the highest levels allowed by the Church. Ambitious projects of expansion were launched. New sisters who shared Emelda’s vision were promoted to positions she had created in order to improve the growth of the establishment.
Younger, more ambitious sisters, ones that were eager to please the Abbess and so could be moulded by her to be yet greater assets. Assets such as sister Horslip, a strict disciplinarian who knew that physical punishment was the only way to ensure good order amongst the nuns.
She was in charge of maintaining standards amongst the lower ranking sisters (Emelda had expanded the system of ranks and levels of privilege considerably — after all there should be some rewards for those more dedicated to the Abbey — this would encourage ambition and accomplishment) and recruited an elite team of assistants with the same viewpoint, scrutinising the lesser nuns for any infractions of the rules, which were dealt with in sister Horslip’s chamber of correction.
It was with great pleasure that the Abbess noticed an improvement in standards of appearance and behaviour, as well as respect afforded to herself and the other senior nuns, with sister Horslip maintaining a stern eye on everyone.
In order for the Abbey to continue to grow, a constant stream of incoming wealth was required. This was the domain of sister Creed. A disgraced young noblewoman sent off to join the nunnery after a scandal, she had an aptitude for numbers and a natural knack for discovering all the ways in which the Abbey’s devoted sisterhood could make a little money on the side.
After all, thought the Abbess, what was good for the glory of the Abbey was justifiable, especially if the deeds were secret and did not distract from the Abbey’s reputation. Production and sale of relics and scrolls netted a modest income from pilgrims and the gullible and pious lay people. More money was to be made by brokering arrangements with wealthy houses. In some cases, special services from the sisters might be required. In others, positions in the Abbey might be bought with a suitable donation. In all cases profit was made by the Abbey and its coffers became replete with gold.
Brokering some of the more elaborate arrangements with the wealthy and powerful necessitated another expansion of Emelda’s precious inner circle. Sister Lyre, one of the aforesaid women from a noble house who willingly bought her position, placed herself in the role of speaker for the Abbey. With connections across the length and breadth of the country, and beyond, she helped to spread the reputation and good name of St Arissa’s.
With a skilled ear for her audience, she and her team of acolytes could both propagate its image as a high holy place amongst the masses, and simultaneously its notoriety as a place of great opportunity and potential for other activities amongst the elite. Not to mention making sure any negative stories about the Abbey were debunked as fabricated and did not damage its growing glory. Sometimes those spreading such stories also turned out to not be real, at least not going forwards.
At the request of sister Lyre and Sister Creed, another member of the ‘Sisters Superior’ was recruited. Sister DeLor had once been one of the most renowned prostitutes in France, but the sheer power of the Abbey – and certainly not bags of coin – had caused her to repent of her ways, or at least ensure that they were used only for good now, such as training certain novices who showed potential for the services to the Abbey that could be bought by the nobility (and the senior priesthood in some cases).
Emelda found that she had no great qualms about allowing a limited degree of prostitution amongst the nuns – after all, they were sacrificing their virtue for the greater good of the Abbey, so it was noble work, and besides, she thought, nuns were intrinsically virgins in the eyes of … of … of the people, so what they did in secret did not count.
These four Sisters Superior, each heading their individual groups of personal acolytes, the ordos Disciplinari, Acquisitari, Propagandi and Sensuari, together with the Abbess herself formed the inner circle, and they would meet often to plan and discuss the growing power of the Abbey. They found that their most productive meetings occurred in the late evenings over large meals with copious wine — after all, the decisions they made were of critical importance and they needed to be well fed and relaxed.
They were usually held in the Abbess’s personal chambers, much expanded now from the crude rooms she had inherited from her predecessor, and with her own personal kitchen and staff to wait on them. The inner circle felt no need to always wear their formal robes for these meetings — there should be some privileges for those who worked so tirelessly in the service of the order after all, and all transgressions could be negated with indulgences that Emelda was easily able to purchase with the larger coffers that the Abbey had these days.
Luxurious dresses were ordered by the Sisters Superior, some ostentatious, some (especially those worn by sister DeLor) more remarkable for their skimpy and revelatory nature. Another improvement of her regime over the old, in Emelda’s eyes, was that the senior nuns were all much younger and more physically attractive than before. Sister DeLor was tall, blond, and incredibly voluptuous as suited her former profession.
Her voice was smooth and French-accented, and Emelda was certain she could arouse even a stone with it. Sister Lyre was similar, only slightly slimmer, her hair just a little darker, her voice charming and urbane as she told of the Abbeys growing reputation and what was being said about it, and its Abbess, in the corridors and chambers of the ruling classes. Sister Creed was by contrast slightly shorter and somewhat rotund, with long brown hair she often wore in pigtails. She had an earthly practicality to her, a sharp mind, and was the keenest of the inner circle to indulge in excess eating and drinking at their meetings.
Sister Horslip was taller, and of a build that would in more modern times come to be described as ‘thicc’, with jet black hair and a stern yet well-proportioned face. Despite the strict behaviour that she enforced in the Abbey as a whole to the lesser nuns, amongst equals she was surprisingly relaxed, and freely talked with DeLor about her sexual exploits late in the evening when the wine had flowed.
In fact, in a change that the Abbess was particularly proud of, many of their acolytes and senior nuns in other positions were also more attractive now, as well as more assertive, with the old, the deformed, the humble being relegated to hard graft cleaning and growing food. This did cause some resentment amongst the nuns at the bottom of the order. Sisters Horsewhip, Greed, Liar and The Whore they named the Sisters Superior, though not when they felt they might hear.
There was another present at these meetings as the circle talked, ate and drank late into the night and schemed the expansion of their glorious Abbey. Unseen by them, Septuthiroth, his spirit form now able to manifest in the material world as his influence grew, alternated between coiling around Emelda, whispering dark ideas into her ear, and passing amongst the others, tempting and tainting as he went, for he had coloured Emelda’s choices of her assistants, picked those he knew were already on the path to darkness, those who would be amenable to his subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) corruptions.
Increasingly he was finding he did not even need to try with the Abbess herself – Emelda was thinking of new wickednesses of her own devising, spinning her own veils of self-deception to cosset and protect herself from the truth. It was unheard of for a demon to feel affection for their prey, but he did feel at least a certain satisfaction in her aptitudes for building an ever-greater monument to the dark powers — almost a demon herself.
As the Abbey expanded, so too did the Abbess and her inner circle, as the almost nightly meetings over full platters and goblets began to take their toll in the form of a subtle increase in the softness and roundness of their flesh. By contrast, the religious aspect of the life seemed to wither and decline.
Prayers were performed only perfunctorily and with little or no enforcement. At grand assemblies and ceremonies, things were arranged by rote without any thought for what the rituals stood for. Sermons by the Abbess or her Sisters Superior tended to be largely boasts about the Abbey’s great material success, or exhortations for the sisterhood to strive for further greatness, and contained little wisdom or reference to God.
Emelda was alone in her chambers, looking over the plans for a new expansion of the Abbey’s structure, that would double its size, when the visitor came. The new designs, drawn up by an expensive architect, included an inner sanctum high above the ground where the Abbess and her trusted inner circle would dwell, along with the treasury, a private kitchen, and several other rooms of unique design that the Abbess had demanded. She was not sure herself of their purpose, but they would be useful for future expansion (Septuthiroth knew their function and was confident that the Abbess would enjoy their use, when his plans came to fruition).
Her study was interrupted by a junior sister, announcing the presence of a visitor. “A Man, Abbess,” was all the description she could get from her.
“Show him in at once,” Emelda commanded.
Nobody had announced their intention to visit today. Perhaps it would be some nobleman or a high member of the clergy interested in an arrangement. Emelda loved talking with the rich and powerful, there was so much greatness that could be achieved by siphoning off just a little of their wealth, gaining just a little power over them, in each interaction. Sister Lyre’s endless diplomacy sometimes led to visitors coming unannounced to follow up on whispers and rumours of what could be obtained at the Abbey. She rotated in her chair to face the door – it was not worth lifting her increasingly ample frame from its comfort unless the visitor carried sufficient importance in her eyes.
The man who entered the chamber plainly was not a man of wealth. Clad in dark leathers and a well-worn cape, his face was heavily weather-beaten and of an indeterminate — but certainly not young – age. He had a broad brimmed black hat which he carried respectfully in one hand now, high boots and — Emelda’s insides clenched at the sight — both a longsword and substantial looking crossbow hung from his belt, as well as a book and other less obvious implements. An ivory crucifix was affixed to an iron chain around his neck.
The Abbess jumped to her feet with a start. Aside from his obviously being a man who dealt in violence, something else about him disturbed her greatly. He bore no source of light and was dressed darkly, but something about him made the room around him seem brighter somehow. It hurt her eyes, and she involuntarily took a step backwards.
“Ah, so you must be the new Abbess,” he pressed forwards to start the conversation in the face of her slightly stunned hesitancy, “My name is witchfinder sergeant Absalom Black, at your service. I take it you are well?”
She retreated another step.
“Yes! Perfectly well, thankyou!” she stuttered.
She felt very threatened by this man, even though he had offered her no quarrel. There was something about him that she simply detested, but she could not say what it was. She desired him to go, for his presence to be taken from her at once, and she simply couldn’t bring herself to consider why this was the case.
In the space where mortals cannot see, the demon lord Septuthiroth snarled in anger and fear. He could see the strong faith and righteousness this man possessed as a blinding light that disoriented and weakened him, reducing his power to influence the mortal world. His dark plans here had not yet reached fruition.
The powers of wickedness and sin here were not yet secure, not yet strong enough to withstand a good and true soul such as this. He must not be thwarted when there was so much potential here to do more; his precious corruption must not be revealed or expunged. Even his normally strong connection to the Abbess was disrupted by the visitor’s presence. She felt this too, as the source of her confidence and delusions began to ebb within her. Nonetheless, Septuthiroth did what he could to urge her to resist.
“May I ask the reason for your visit?” the Abbess demanded coldly, “I was busy with important works for the expansion of the Abbey.”
“Ah, yes. You have certainly … changed things … since poor Assumpta’s death. I was unfortunately detained on other business at the time, or I would have come at once to pay my respects. I take it she is interred in the grounds?”
“Of course … she lies in the West garden. I am sure one of the sisters could —“
“Among the wild grasses? A shame, I always felt she deserved a tomb. She was a good woman. A true servant of the Lord.”
An almost imperceptible flinch crossed Emelda’s face.
“If that is your only —“
“No. I have other business here. Abbess Assumpta held some items in her possession on my behalf. I am here to ensure that they are still safe. I take it that she told you of this before she passed on?”
“No, not at all!” Emelda’s voice rose an octave.
She began to perspire from more than the warmth of the day.
“Her death was sudden and unexpected!”
“How unfortunate. The items I seek will no doubt be amongst her possessions. Where are these now stored?”
His tone was increasing in stridence, as though daring her to refuse to answer.
Emelda backed off another step as the witchfinder advanced. Her ample buttocks brushed against a sideboard behind her. She trembled again.
“Uh … her possessions were taken away … they were stored …”
Emelda could not think clearly. His presence disturbed her in ways she refused to acknowledge. Some inner voice however told her that it would be most unwise to allow him to find the items he sought. They must have some hidden value.
“Stored in our deep vaults. It is difficult to retrieve them on such rude notice. If you could return in a week, mayhap I could have some of the sisters —“
“No! I sense something is afoot here, Abbess. You have no deep vaults, due to the soil being unsuitable for such excavation. You will take me to the possessions I seek now, lest my patience wears thin. He stepped forwards one more pace, his left hand meaningfully resting on the pommel of his sword.
“No!” Emelda squirmed before him, sweating and trembling with fear as she desperately tried to cling on to her authority, “You cannot! I am the Abbess! My word is law here — you have no jurisdiction! This is a house of … of …”
“Of whom, Abbess? Of God? Of Jesus and the Holy Spirit? Whom do you serve? Speak!”
His words were like hammer blows to her. Her replies choked in her throat. The only response she could make was something between a bestial snarl and a squeak. Foam flecked her lips. The witchfinder reached for his crucifix slowly.
Before he could take any further action however, the door behind him opened suddenly. Three more nuns came in. The Abbess was relieved to recognise sister Lyre, followed by sisters DeLor and Creed.
“Abbess, we have a request …” Lyre began, before she took in the drama playing out before her.
“Ah, a noble member of the witchfinders army, I guess from your apparel,” she stated, mixing just enough contempt and sarcasm into her tone to keep it infinitesimally below the threshold for an overt insult. “May I ask your business with our most holy Abbess?”
Buoyed by the arrival of her allies, Emelda did her best to regain her composure.
“Sisters, this is witchfinder sergeant Black. He has come to pay his respects to the former Abbess. He was just leaving,” she said with an increasing edge to her voice.
A calculating look came over Black’s face for a moment, as though he was debating the outcome if he were to use force on all four of the nuns to achieve his goals. However close his decision was, in the end he decided to exercise discretion.
“Indeed. I shall go and pay my respects to your late sister’s mortal remains and then leave. However, on the other matter we discussed, I shall return before long. I suggest you ensure that all is ready when we do. May the blessing of the living Lord be upon you always,” he said as he strode from the room, soliciting one final wince from Emelda.
“Oh, sweet sister!” DeLor rushed forwards to comfort her with an embrace far more sensual than could be strictly attributed to sisterly compassion. “What has happened here! What did he do to you?”
“Oh, DeLor! It was terrible! He is a wicked man and threatened me. He threatens us all, and our work here. Please summon sister Horslip. And my chefs. And lock the door until they arrive! I don’t trust him to be gone at all!”
Still shaken, the Abbess staggered to a cabinet and retrieved a bottle of strong brandy, swigging half of it at once to steady her nerves before sitting down on a comfortable, well-padded chair, breathing heavily.
Septuthiroth felt his control returning as Emelda recovered from the shock of the confrontation with the witchfinder. It was fortunate indeed that her inner circle had responded to his desperate summons in the nick of time. Nonetheless, the accursed enemy had plainly learned more of his plans than he would like from the confrontation.
This Absalom Black fellow would be back, and with greater determination. Septuthiroth needed to accelerate his schemes, to fortify his position here before the enemy organised a counterattack. Caressing the Abbess with invisible limbs and pouring praise into her ear inaudible her conscious mind, he began to steer her along a more direct path to his goals.
THE END OF CHAPTER TWO