Feature Writer: Cheeslord
Feature Title: THE ABBESS 3
Published: 09.08.2025
Story Codes: Erotic Horror
Synopsis: Demonic possession of nuns, human sacrifice, weight gain.
Author’s Notes: The Abbess: (Chapter 3 of 9)
The Abbess 3
The inner circle was convened. Food and drink were hastily laid out and as the afternoon turned to evening it was reported that the witchfinder had indeed left the Abbey, heading back down the road to Newcrofte. The conversation was understandably dominated by his visit.
“Fear not, sister,” assured Lyre, “The witchfinders army are a spent force, discredited in the eyes of the aristocracy. They command no political power these days. A word in the ear of the local lords should see that they are brought into line.”
“But this man is insane!” Emelda protested, “I do not trust him to obey the edicts of any lord. The very thought of him coming into my chambers again … oh! He must be stopped. He must be kept out. He must not be allowed to interfere with what we are doing here!”
Her plump legs closed tight together beneath the table as if fearing some imaginary violation.
“Those accursed witchfinders have destroyed hundreds of our most valuable …” Emelda paused, and shook her head for a moment, confused as to what she was thinking, “I mean they have wasted valuable resources on the pointless persecution of innocent women!”
“He is an ignorant fool,” said Creed, in between mouthfuls of steak, “He plainly has no idea of the workings of a successful establishment if he dares to find fault with us. We would assuredly all be living in caves and wearing rags if we were forced to live by the overly austere edicts such killjoys set out.”
“I was unavoidably detained at the time,” Horslip spoke up, involuntarily caressing herself beneath the table, “But it is plain that he does not respect our supreme authority, even in our own halls! Such insulting behaviour! We cannot tolerate this … this violation of our sanctity, sisters!”
She distractedly drew a small leather whip from her sleeve — not large enough to be considered her eponymous horsewhip by any means, but she did firmly believe in having the tools of chastisement close to hand should she see an infraction of her precious rules — and repeatedly tapped it against her lips as she thought.
“Abbess, my methods are sufficient to keep order amongst the sisterhood, but to deal with a man, especially a strong and lawless rogue such as this, we should set other men at our command. I propose we recruit a guarding force to protect our delicate innocence from the depredations of this chaotic world.”
“Agreed,” added Creed, who had moved on to desert in the meantime and was munching and slurping enthusiastically between words, “It was something I had meant to raise earlier, but our treasury is swollen with gold. It is our most precious lifeblood, and must be protected at all costs. Every brigand in the kingdom would surely come to seize a share if they discovered that it was but lightly guarded.”
“Oh yes — having some big, strong men around to protect our … sweet virginity would be most agreeable, sisters. I support this idea with my whole heart!” That was DeLor, following her encouragement with a smile that suggested that perhaps her sweet virginity was not her primary interest in having mercenaries on the grounds.
“Agreed, sisters. We must move swiftly with this. Lyre, you have the connections we need, how soon can you have us protected?” asked the Abbess.
“Hmmm … there is a mercenary company camped near Newcrofte I believe. Veterans of the crusades. The Legion of Blood, I recall their name is. Their reputation is … mixed, but I believe that our influence amongst noble houses and potential clients will give us a degree of control over them. I can have an emissary out here by tomorrow to negotiate.”
“Good, do so! Nothing must threaten our beautiful Abbey, especially on the brink of our great works of expansion and growth”
The Abbess referred of course to the coming construction works of the new wing, but also the increased intake of nuns to populate it, not to mention an ambitious program to expand their political influence spearheaded by Sister Lyre and her Propagandi acolytes.
“Now that the matter of our security is settled, let us turn to the reasons for this unwelcome interference in the first place. What became of my predecessor’s possessions?” she turned to Creed.
“Oh, there was nothing of great value amongst them. Apart from what you took while you used her quarters, Abbess, it was largely thrown out,” Creed drained her wine glass and fumbled to refill it from one of several bottles on the table, “Of course, there was her private library. Since we turned her room over to act as a storeroom that has been largely ignored. There could be something in there, I suppose.”
Despite having first dibs on Assumpta’s possessions, Emelda had disappointingly also found nothing of value. A small key, a few wretched oddments long thrown away, a plain wooden cross on a chain, that Emelda had accidentally dropped down the privy. A sudden sense of urgency gripped her out of nowhere.
“Sisters, we must find this item at once. We can brook no delay with dark forces at work outside these walls. To the library!”
Despite some grumbling from the sisters about having to get up from their cozy meal, and a five-minute session of hastily gobbling down the remaining deserts and wine to give them the energy, the nuns finally arose. Slipping their bright, pure, loose-fitting habits over the more exotic dresses they habitually wore to inner circle meetings, they walked the short distance to the old Abbess’s quarters.
As stated by Creed, the furniture in her bedroom had been removed and replaced by crates, boxes, spare lumber, tools not currently in use, bales of fabric, crates of preserved foodstuffs — the normal stores and provisions of the nunnery. On the far side though was a small door, unlocked, leading to the Abbess’s private library and office. Emelda had been too busy to investigate this in the days following the old Abbess’s death, having little interest in books in the first place. Later it had slipped her mind as she became increasingly obsessed with her grand plans for improving the Abbey. Now, somehow, the small room called to her. She knew that it must be here amongst the dust and old tomes.
With all five of the sisters in the room, all of them fairly plump by now (apart from Creed who was almost spherical), it was crowded and soon became warm as five large bodies stooped and searched the shelves and cupboards. Mostly the contents were bible translations and religious texts, with a few tomes on practical topics such as animal husbandry, crop rotation and dressmaking. All exceedingly dull to Emelda’s eye, especially the bibles which she avoided entirely. Probably a good idea to have these books removed and destroyed later, to increase the available storage space, she thought.
After about ten minutes of searching, by which time the sisters were increasingly becoming grumpy and tired from the unusual amount of physical work, Emelda spotted something noteworthy. Behind a row of boring volumes of theology, an alcove had been made in the wall by removing some of the bricks. Concealed in this was a large metal box, protected from casual observation.
“Sisters! This is it, I am certain,” she pronounced, and indeed something about the plain black box made her feel as though she needed to have it, “Fetch it to my room, at once! I shall study this personally and determine its value this very night.”
The box proved uncomfortably heavy, and the Sisters Superior had to round up a few brawny novices to do the fetching and carrying. Eventually it was set upon a grand desk in the Abbess’ quarters. The nuns, even her inner circle, were all dismissed for the night, and finally Emelda was alone with the box. Firstly, she locked the door to her room.
Unlike her predecessor Emelda firmly believed in the sanctity of locks as a tool for maintaining good order, and she sported a large bunch of keys, giving her access, and the ability to deny access to others, to a great many of the important rooms of the Abbey. She felt a certain degree of tremulous intimacy as she secured her door tonight, as though she were locking herself in with a secret lover for an evening of debauchery.
Her fire had been burning throughout the day, and her room felt cloyingly warm. She removed her habit, and the red velvet dress she had been wearing beneath it, revealing lacy, figure-hugging underwear sister DeLor had gifted her from her contacts in Paris. She took a moment to admire her figure in the full-length mirror she had installed. My but she had put on some weight in the last months. Her belly now overhung the tops of her thighs by some margin, round and firm-yet-soft from her recent meal.
Her bottom ballooned out behind her, deliciously formed cheeks seemingly possessing their own gravity and orbits as she walked. Best of all her breasts were now huge, swollen with recent growth. She felt their weight with her chubby hands. Amazing that such thin layers of lacy fabric could hold back such impressive heft and size. Truly, she was growing to keep pace with the Abbey’s expansion, which was fitting as its head and the embodiment of its spirit. Taloned hands caressed her rump and the underside of her girth, gently moving down to stroke her sex as the great horned head leaned in to tenderly kiss her.
Emelda snapped out of her trance. She must be more tired than she thought; she had been on the brink of a waking dream. The box — that was the focus of her attention. She would give it a cursory investigation before retiring for the night to ruminate on her discoveries.
The plain dark metal of its construction was locked with a small keyhole. Fortunately, the key she had found long ago in the old Abbess’s possessions was close at hand in a drawer. It fit perfectly and the front and top of the box hinged open to reveal … a row of dissimilar books, occupying most of the space within.
For a moment, the Abbess almost felt disappointment that this was all the treasure that the box contained, but then she was struck by the certainty that these were far from the mundane volumes her predecessor usually frequented. She took one out, an inexplicable eagerness to her movements. It was bound in an unfamiliar pale leather, and while old had plainly been valued highly at some time from the decorative gilding that was now heavily worn, and the rare red ink used for much of the text within.
The language was very ancient and difficult to read, lapsing into entirely alien languages at times, and ostensibly written and annotated by different hands. There were pictures however, and from what she could determine of it, the book was full of lore that would be considered extremely forbidden. Sorceries, the use of magics, spells and curses. This was plainly a book of pagan witchcraft, and presumably authentic given the concern shown for it by the witchfinder.
Why had he lodged it here instead of destroying it? Presumably for purposes of knowing the secrets of his quarry. Where would be safer than in the holy halls of the Abbey, surrounded by the pure and the chaste? Occasionally consulted by the witchfinders to find information on what might constitute a sign of true witchcraft. Even in the witchfinders’ own strongholds the temptation of such things could sway their weaker minds. The Abbess skimmed through the other books in the collection.
Each one was unique, some bound in leather, some in wood or in a scaly hide which she could not recognise. One was simply clad in sheets of dark iron bound with heavy clasps. The books spoke of the ways of demons, of blasphemous rituals granting great boons at terrible prices. Of the means to contact the dead, inflict crippling misfortunes upon the innocent, to bend minds to the will of those who would dare to wield such tools. These books were power, in its purest form.
No wonder the Abbess had spoken of their temptation. It was a good thing that they were now in her keeping, with her supreme will and devotion to greatness, she was sure she would be immune to such lures. If only the old fool had told her the truth about these earlier. She could have handled the witchfinder, convinced him that she was as worthy a keeper as her predecessor.
Now that he had taken against her though — he surely would try and take them from her. Even – and the thought made her horrified — destroy them! Knowledge must be preserved, even if very slightly profane. She scooped up some of the books in her well-padded arms, hugging then to her ample bosom, relishing the feel of their different covers on her skin.
She would see that no harm came to them, and that they were kept out of HIS grubby, unworthy hands. In turn, they would teach her. There would be no harm in learning the secrets of the books, she thought – her breathing becoming heavy at the prospect — as long as she did not use them. Perhaps even some tiny use of them might be justified, if it served the Glory of the Abbey. She was sure she had the strength of will to control the dark powers and bend them to good use. And besides, nobody would know. What is done in the shadows may as well not have happened, and does not count to anything, she thought happily to herself.
A soft knock at her chamber door caused her to yelp involuntarily, dropping some of the books to the floor. She stood up, carefully retrieving the precious tomes and putting them on her desk. The knock repeated insistently as she nervously clad herself in a purple silken dressing gown of great value.
“Who calls on me at this hour?” she managed.
Surely he had not returned? Somehow she doubted he would knock softly if he did, but nonetheless her heart fluttered with fear. The precious books were exposed and she was certain now that he must not get them. They were hers!
Fortunately the reply was a much softer, feminine tone with a French accent that placed it at once.
“It is I, Sister DeLor. Please let me into your chamber.”
The Abbess complied, the key still being in the inside of the lock. DeLor entered flanked by six of her Sensuari, all bearing items and with their hoods drawn up so that their faces were almost concealed.
“What are you …” Emelda began, locking the door behind them hastily, before DeLor cut her off.
“Look at you! Working every hour of the night in the service of all of us.”
She gestured to encompass the books on Emelda’s desk, her reading lamp making it obvious what she had been studying.
“You have had a terrible shock today, that nasty man, and we have done nothing to soothe your pain. I cannot stand by while you grind yourself to the bone sister. Come, and let us take care of you.”
She pulled a golden tassel dangling from a seam in her habit, as did all of her acolytes as though on an unspoken command. Immediately, all their outer clothing fell to the floor, revealing them to be clad in the most skimpy and sensuous undergarments that Emelda had ever imagined, much less seen. Warm scents of oil and perfume wafted through the room at this sudden disrobing. Jewellery glinted multicoloured rainbow hues in the light of the lamps and candles in the chamber. The acolytes walked to surround the Abbess, their hips rolling erotically as they came.
“Sister DeLor! I am —“
“Sssshhh … I will not hear of it!” her soft, seductive voice somehow cut across Emelda’s louder protests, “Now you come to bed and relax. You have not been paying attention to the needs of your body, but we will help you.”
Emelda allowed the sisters to escort her to her bed, where they expertly removed her gown and undergarments as they laid her down, one on each side supporting her large breasts as she settled, others fetching pre-warmed oils from the bowls they had carried. Starting with her extremities and working in, they gently oiled and massaged her flesh, their work accompanied by soothing murmurs, giggles and kisses.
Sister DeLor stood above them, observing their work, encouraging them with kisses and strokes of her own. Emelda allowed herself to relax — DeLor was right; she worked so hard for the good of others. She deserved a little treat once in a while, and besides, there was no hint of sinfulness here — they were all women, after all. All sisters of an excellent and high order.
All perfectly pure and innocent. The growing feelings of pleasure arcing through her body, the lovely sensation of pressure growing between her legs, deep within the base of her belly, these were only…ooohhhhh! As the gently massaging hands, the plump lips and tongues, the lustful murmurs and groans of her sisters worked their way up her arms and legs, reaching her breasts, her mouth, the tops of her thighs, Emelda abandoned herself to blissful sensation, the raging buildup of ecstasy within her too strong to permit complex thoughts.
“Yes! Oh, sisters, SISTERS!” she moaned.
“Oh no! What is this? It will not do!” DeLor reached down to stroke Emelda’s moist labia, “We must not have any hairy hair down there! Sisters …”
With a snap of her fingers she directed the Sensuari acolytes. Two of them immediately switched to the use of other implements which they had brought with them, presumably in anticipation. With practised efficiency they shaved and delicately began to wax the Abbess. So skilled were they in the art that she barely felt any pain.
“Hush, hush, patience my glorious Abbess” DeLor leaned over and whispered to her as Emelda rocked and moaned, seeking greater pleasure, “Let us make your body perfect, first.”
Bringing her head down above the Abbess from the side, her plush and brightly painted lips opened and pressed lovingly into the open mouth of her superior, hot tongue pushing into Emelda’s throat, spreading the taste of sugar and fine wine as it danced with her own. Emelda shuddered at the sheer ecstasy, reaching up and embracing DeLor’s voluptuous body, pulling her against her own softness.
Everything felt so incredibly pleasant … it couldn’t in any way be sinful — she wouldn’t even consider the possibility! As the acolytes finished their cleansing task below and resumed their pleasuring, Emelda’s moans and the involuntary rocking of her hips increased in intensity. Two of the Sensuari gently opened her thighs further, pushing both their heads up into the space between.
Tongues and lips caressed her clitoris in alternation with dipping down to lick deeply within her vagina. Skilled fingers added their gentle rubbing to the growing, strengthening orgasmic waves, as each girl removed their necklace, which consisted of large balls of various sizes chained together, one in silver, one in gold.
Lubricating them with kisses and the slick fluids of her lust, each necklace was slowly eased into her, one ball at a time, one filling the sacred portal of her sex, licked and fondled as the sisters worked, and one being pressed down beneath to gently force its way in between those massive buttocks and through her tight sphincter. As each ball was pushed inside her, the next one always just slightly larger than the last, there was a new gasp from the Abbess and her moaning and rocking increased.
Up by the Abbess’ head, DeLor continued her deep kisses with growing fervour. As a former prostitute she prided herself on her ability to remain in control during even the most passionate sex. Orgies, bestiality, bondage…even when her body was wracked with the most extreme of pleasures, she retained enough awareness to direct the festivities according to her plans and desires.
Something was different tonight however. She felt something in the room, a sense of malevolent, wicked exultation and unholy lust that she had not encountered even in the darkest brothels of Paris. She found herself involuntarily slipping her fingers into her own thin, skimpy, bejewelled undergarments, pressing into her exquisitely polished and oiled centre, and it almost felt as if other hands were caressing her body as well. Hands and arms and a tongue that radiated a dark, corrupted, hot energy into her flesh. It filled her with a wild ecstasy that she had not known for years. She loved it so much!
“Oh, yes! More! More! MORE!”
She pulled her lips from Emelda for a few moments to entreat whatever madness was in the air tonight to drive her to greater excess. She stifled a squeal of glee with Emelda’s lips as the sensations redoubled, pressing in all around her body, filling her with a feeling of sick, twisted evil that simultaneously engorged her with unspeakable pleasure.
Both women rocked and moaned together, lips engaged, breath coming in hot, intense bursts through their nostrils, clinging on tight as multiple waves of orgasmic pressure rippled through them until eventually they could stand it no more — their mouths flew apart as both cried out in one voice a yell of climatic triumph, coming together over and over until exhaustion took them and they collapsed in a heap of warm, elegant flesh.
Floating above the exhausted nuns, watching as the remaining Sensuari acolytes finished each other off while their mistresses slept, Septuthiroth was pleased. Not only had he regained his strength since the draining encounter with the witchfinder, but he had thickened and bolstered his dark grasp on the Abbey.
Not that free love played into his hands intrinsically, but to perform it deceptively, to break vows of chastity in secret and then to deceive the self as well as others about it, that was … nourishing to him. Despite this, there was more work to do. He could not risk his enemies returning before he was fully prepared.
The Abbess had served him well this day — and night — but he had one more thing he needed to do to her now, to push her further along the road he needed her to take. Transforming himself into an ethereal serpent, he wormed his way into her mind, sending dark thoughts into her dreams.
THE END OF CHAPTER THREE