Story from Uniform Girls 38.
Mortification of the flesh
A black-vestured and hooded figure glides across the polished wood floor. Glides but not silently for below the all-enveloping black robes there are white court shoes, with quite high heels. These shoes strike an inconsistent, somewhat jarring note, both visually and in their inevitable clatter on the wooden floor. The shoes of course make evident that the figure is female, though the robe disguises any detail as to shape or form. The hooded head is bowed but the face that can possibly be glimpsed is young. Young and good-looking: a pretty young woman.
On the clattering high heels she crosses the floor to the heavy oak door. Knocks and enters. To go and stand submissively before the desk behind which sits a similarly black-robed and hooded figure. A stern-eyed man. He says something to her and she nods. Her eyes downcast, not meeting the gaze of the man at the desk. Her hands which have been crossed in front of her within the folds of the enveloping garment now go to her sides. Taking hold of the skirt to her robe she begins to pull it up. To show shapely bare legs above the white high heels. Pretty knees. The curvingly feminine thighs that are equally bare. The robe is raised further. Up to her waist.
* * *
'It's a retreat,' Anne Harling tells her husband. 'A spiritual retreat. You go to get a, you know, spiritual recharge.'
Graham and Anne Harling are in their sitting room having a pre-dinner drink. He gives her a disbelieving look.
Anne flushes. 'Don't be cynical. Everyone needs that now and then. Or you can pray – for world peace or something. Anything. Anyway I told Charlotte...'
This afternoon Anne has told her friend Charlotte that yes, she definitely does want to.
Anne Harling is 21, three years younger than Graham, a nice-looking blonde and of course she doesn't have a job. Anne wanted to get one when they were married a year ago but Graham said she didn't need to work and he would rather she was just a housewife, looking after him and their house. The other reason although he didn't like to spell it out was that Graham didn't like the thought of Anne being too independent. At work, with male colleagues: well you heard things, didn't you? Frisky young married women. Graham didn't really think Anne would – but he could have these rather nasty visions of her being persuaded by some persuasive male colleague. To be friendly. To fuck him in other words. Graham didn't really imagine she would but he just felt happier with Anne at home. And she didn't need to work.
But now this business. This bee that Anne had got in her bonnet, this retreat. It was a ridiculous idea and naturally Graham didn't want her to get involved in such a ridiculous thing. Of course the reason Anne was interested was that she had too much free time on her hands. Graham could see that. May be he should have let her get a job.
'What do you do on this retreat?' he asks.
Anne doesn't have too clear an idea. Charlotte wasn't all that specific. 'Oh you know. Contemplation. Eating pure and simple food, or fasting. And discipline. Bodily discipline and spiritual discipline.'
'Bodily discipline?' Graham's voice is scornful. 'What does that mean?'
Anne is not too sure. Charlotte used those terms. 'Well I'll be able to tell you all the details when I come back.'
Graham eyes her. He doesn't want Anne going on a spiritual retreat alone. 'Maybe I'll come too then. You said there were men there.'
Anne shakes her head. She did know that. Charlotte had been quite clear about that. 'But not husbands and wives. That would defeat the object. I mean, being spiritual.' She moves over to sit next to him. Smiling coyly. 'It's spiritual, darling.'
* * *
The girl in the black habit and white heels has the robe now completely up round her waist. To reveal a pair of brief lace-edged white knickers as her only undergarment. The brief knickers contain, or partially contain, quite ripe but nonetheless firm and shapely bottom-cheeks: and at the front the bulge of a thrusting mons veneris. The ripish bottom is being caressed by the hand of the black-garbed man. Who has got up from his desk to stand next to her. To get his hand on the girl's bottom evidently. He is talking to her in a low voice.
'You spoke to her yesterday, Carlotta? And she is definitely persuaded?'
'Yes Master.' Yes, Charlotte Greenway or Novice Carlotta as she is known here has spoken again to her friend Anna Harling who has confirmed that she will come for a stay at St Alwyn's retreat. To undergo Novitiate training.
'Good. Very good.' The hand of Master Nicholas grips the shapely bottom appreciatively.
As always he is very keen to recruit young female Novices. Both for his own pleasure and because they are necessary to keep St Alwyn's as a viable concern. There is of course no greater pleasure than training a young woman in the ways of penitence and fleshy rigours. In particular perhaps a young married woman who in the world outside is routinely knowing the lusts of the flesh; is regularly submitting her soft and tender body to sinful pleasure. But there is the other reason too: which is that beautiful young female Novitiates will attract men visitors. Who are prepared to pay substantially for a stay on retreat – if they are in the company of submissive and beautiful young female Novices.
'You have done well, my daughter. We will look forward to that with pleasure. Showing a young woman the way of righteousness is always a spiritual pleasure. But now we must see to yourself. Your own sins of the flesh, Novice Carlotta.'
Charlotte shivers. She knows what is coming and she shivers. With fear, excitement, anticipation. She hates the cane but at the same time it turns her on. It also turns her on to think that Anne Harling will be getting it. Anne doesn't know this of course. Not yet. Anne who is really so innocent and perhaps a bit prudish but at the same time is eager to know about things, about life. And of course that awful prig Graham who doesn't want her to do anything. What if he knew what was in store for his darling Anne?
Charlotte is told to bend herself over the Master's desk. Heart pounding, she does so. She has been visiting St Alwyn's for two months now, weekends mostly but once a whole week. Charlotte has been caned in all that time but the feeling is always the same: the feeling when you prepare yourself, when you lie over the desk. With knickers lowered. To submit yourself to the Master's will. To his whippy rattan cane. Or when alternatively you have to lie on top of the desk, on your back. Your knickers again lowered and your legs breath-takingly now up in the air. That feeling: your skin tingling; sweating with fear... and excitement.
The Master is pulling down her knickers. Simon doesn't know of course. About this. About any of it. Charlotte's Simon who is not a prig like Graham Harling but nonetheless Charlotte clearly couldn't tell him. About what actually happens at St Alwyn's. Spiritual exercises. Contemplation. That is that she says. Without going into a lot of detail. The same as she has told Anne. Simon seems to accept it. Because for one thing of course he can't guess that Charlotte cold be turned on by this sort of thing.
Sweet Jesus. Her bottom with that sizzling, burning feeling. Red Hot. And also that swimmy feeling between her thighs. She's getting red hot there too.
Writhing her hips, her stricken bottom. She'll have to tell Anne... to be careful Graham doesn't see her bottom. The marks...
How many is that? It's usually six. And as she's been good, getting him Anne, there shouldn't be more than that. Except of course that if she expects no more because of that... she could get an extra couple. To teach her a lesson.
Charlotte anyway doesn't know how many she's had. You can't keep count. They hurt so much but at the same time... they get you going. She must have had six though. Because her bottom is really killing her. And also... she's almost coming. She's on the very brink. So that when his hand... or something else... goes there... she'll go off like a Roman Candle.
* * *
'I'm going this weekend.' Anne says. 'Friday afternoon. I'll be back late on Sunday. You can also go for the week but I'm just going for the weekend. I'll be going for eight weekends in succession.'
Graham explodes. 'Eight weekends! You can't! That's ridiculous.'
They are getting ready for bed. It is Thursday now which means tomorrow Anne won't be here. Because of this mad idea – which she's got from that Charlotte Greenway whom Graham heartily detests.
'You can't get anywhere in just one weekend.' Anne's a really lovely girl.
Graham tries to argue with Anne. The whole weekend! And eight successive weekends! It's impossible. He would like to forbid her from going but doesn't feel he can do that. It's all down to dreadful Charlotte Greenway of course. But also his own fault, not letting Anne have a job.
In bed and reluctantly forced to accept that Anne is going for this weekend at last, Graham tries to get more details. Of what they actually do at this retreat. But Anne can't oblige apart from repeating the somewhat vague things Charlotte has told her. There is one item of hard fact she could give Graham but she doesn't. He would probably think it was silly. What they wear. Charlotte has told her that. They wear a kind of nun's outfit. Black robes and hood. The Master and Brothers wear that sort of thing too of course.
Graham though he is annoyed with Anne also wants to make love to her. Wants to fuck her. Well he won't be able to tomorrow night or Saturday, Anne will be away, in some little monastic cell a hundred miles off. There are men at this place. Men on retreat and also the resident monks or whatever they are. Graham doesn't feel too keen about that aspect, though of course they are bound to be wimpy types. Although even wimpy types can be interested in pretty women.
The whole thing is very annoying, upsetting, and perhaps because of that Graham has a very intense erection. With the thought of those men he feels like something he doesn't always want. Perhaps subconsciously to demonstrate to himself his masculinity, his ownership of Anne. He wants her to suck him. The desire for it is suddenly very powerful. Mixed in with the desire are disturbing images, glimpses, in his head of Anne sucking other men. They are very unpleasant but powerful also. All adding up to this sudden great need for it.
Once she realises what he wants Anne is willing enough. She can guess at Graham's special need. He is possessive and doesn't want her to go. So he wants this special thing to demonstrate that she is his. Anne can guess this and accepts it. She accepts therefore his jutting organ. Taking it in her mouth.
But you can't win. Anne is doing it, sucking Graham, giving marvellous sensual pleasure. But into Graham's mind comes the thought: Anne could do it. He pictures it: all those wimpy men coming one by one into her little cell.
* * *
A little cell at St Alwyn's. It is one of the cells provided for male Visitors so although it is small it is adequately furnished. A bed, an armchair and table, a selection of books in the bookcase. The Visitor occupant however is not at this moment interested in literature but rather in the black-clad Novice who has come in to him some 15 minutes earlier. It is Charlotte or Novice Carlotta as she is here.
She is across the lap of the brown-robed Visitor. Spread face-down over his lap and with her black habit pulled up round her waist. Charlotte again has only the skimpy pair of white briefs underneath and they are once more pulled down about her knees. The Visitor is spanking her bared bottom. And fondling it. The two activities going hand in hand. A series of sharp smacks... and then his hand caressing the hot cheeks, the backs of her pretty thighs. And in between the thighs. Charlotte is alternately yelping and groaning. This combined treatment is certainly getting to her. She is in a sexually aroused state. Because what is happening is a very powerful stimulant for Charlotte. Sharp corporal chastisement of her bottom plus the knowing fingers between her legs, at her pussy. This sort of thing... always makes her go off like a bomb.
The brown-garbed Visitor has heard of the new Novice. As have all the other regular Visitors. A lovely girl, new and untrained, starting next weekend, on Friday. They are of course all eager to see her. To have a hand in her early training. A new and untried young woman is such an exciting prospect. New girls are always awaited with the keenest excitement. So there is bound to be a full house of Visitors next weekend. Not that the other girls, the ones who are now more or less regular, are not also a major attractant. Girls like Charlotte.
'Is she a hot one?' the Visitor with three lingers inside Charlotte asks. 'Is she going to like it as much as our hot Carlotta?'
Charlotte replies only with a gurgling groan. She doesn't know. Charlotte has never discussed things with Anne. Though quite possibly Anne would be keen if led into it by an expert. Someone different from that Graham of course. Led into the full pleasures of chastisement and sexual arousal. There are experts at St Alwyn's of course. The Master. And the Brothers. Not to mention various of the regular Visitors. All very keen to put a new and pretty girl through the hoops.
Charlotte comes with a high-pitched screech. Jerking and rolling her hips like a cat in heat. Her companion pushes her off of his lap. 'My word Carlotta. What sinful writhings. We'll have to have something for that. Eh? A nice touch of the cane.'
Charlotte gives a sharp cry, the cane is dreadful when she's just come. Utterly devastating. But... Novices above all things must be obedient. Submissive to whatever is decreed for them. She goes to get over the arm of the chair. Hoisting up her robes again.
* * *
Novice Anne wide-eyed, dry-mouthed. Scared, but it's an exciting scaredness. She didn't know what to expect because Charlotte wouldn't tell her. Now... She is in the black outfit: gown and hood. Nothing else, nothing underneath except a brief pair of knickers. So she can feel the coarse stuff of the gown against her soft flesh, against her sensitive nipples. Her legs are bare too underneath. On her feet are the white high-heeled courts that Charlotte told her to bring.
Anne has put these things on, as instructed, in the scantly-furnished little cell and now here is the Master again. Master Nicholas who a short while ago welcomed her to St Alwyn's. He is seated on the simple wooden chair as she stands before him. He is questioning her. Right away he is questioning her on intimate matters. Sexual matters.
His eyes stare at her with an intense, almost hypnotic gaze. Anne looks away, his eyes are too disconcerting, but he tell her to look at him, look at his eyes and not turn her gaze away. He tell her Novices to come to learn humility and discipline and obedience. His eyes bore into her. The first lesson in obedience is to answer with complete truth. Does she understand that?
Anne mumbles a 'Yes Master.' He starts the questioning again. This time, with the threat of those eyes, she has to answer. Questions she doesn't want to answer. Her naked body perspiring slightly under the prickly black gown and the hood which reveals only her face. Her face that is flushed as she answers a reluctant 'Yes Master' to his question: is she ever unfaithful to her husband? Anne has to tell him, face scarlet. About Mr Ponbridge, the retired man who comes round to do jobs in the garden. Mr Ponbridge who has intercourse with Anne. Fucks her. On his twice weekly visits. Why does she let him? Anne doesn't really know except that one day, after she made him some coffee, he managed to persuade her. And after that...
'That will certainly require a Penance, Novice Anne. A series of Penances. And now tell me about your husband. Your relations with sour husband. I presume sexual relations are continuing. In spite of Mr Ponbridge. Tell me about them.'
The Master has pulled Anne closer. His hand is now on her bottom. Outside the black robe but stroking the cheeks of her bottom. Anne is shaking. The hand and also what she has just been forced to tell. Anne now... the Master wants to know everything about her and Graham. She hadn't anticipated that there would be any of this. This sort of confession. She is being forced to tell exactly what she and Graham do. Last night... She wouldn't tell but the feeling that she can't lie, even by omission, is too powerful. She forces the words out. He makes her tell it in detail. Sucking Graham.
It is another example of course of the lusts of the flesh. Indicative possibly of an overweening appetite. To curb this the cane will be necessary. Does Anne understand that? A severe caning to moderate this lustful craving. In fact a series of severe canings.
As Anne is told this the Master's hand has lifted her robe. At the back. Sliding his hand up the backs of her bare legs. Up the backs of her likewise bare thighs to the brief little knickers. His fingers groping. Does she understand? And in humility accept? The chastisement of her tender flesh.
'Y... Yes... Master.' The words popping out as the Master's hand gropes her.
'Good. We will do that... in a few moments. We will begin the chastisement. But first of all another Penance. In view of the particular lustful act that you have described...'
The Master is forcing her down. In front of him. Anne realises she is to kneel, on the bare wood floor. In front of the Master. He is pulling up his own robe. Under which, like her own, there is very little. In Master Nicholas's case just himself it seems... A little gasp as she sees it. As it comes clear of the yanked up robe. Then he is pulling her forward. Anne's head, face, forward. And she knows what she has to do. The lustful act. It is to be repeated.
'A Penance,' the Master murmurs.