Olivia and the Dulcinites by Geoffrey Allen

Author:Geoffrey Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: damsel in distress, harsh discipline, perverted rituals, punishment and humiliation, victorian historical erotica, deviant nuns
Publisher: Chimera Books

Chapter Nine

The Abbess sat in her window having her hair combed by the Novitiate Mistress. Olivia was being escorted across the courtyard below them just as a waggon rumbled in to deliver supplies. Both women watched her disappear out of sight through the infirmary door.

'Is she coming along well?' asked the Abbess.

'Her progress is satisfactory. So far she has submitted to both whip and rack.'

'Willingly?'

'She is aware of her place within the order. But she needs watching.'

'How so?'

'I caught her in the scriptorium, leafing through the sacred books.'

The Abbess flashed an accusatory look at the Mistress. 'You let her loose in there?'

The Mistress laid down the comb. 'She saw nothing untoward. Even if she had, she would not have understood it. The little she saw of the books told her nothing too important.'

The Abbess calmed a little. 'Did you witness her on the rack?'

'I left that duty to Sister Letitia. I did hear the girl howl when she was whipped, but she is strong; she endured admirably.'

The Abbess nodded with approval.

'She persists in her demands to see you however - she still insists upon leaving.' The Mistress smiled. 'But a spell in the infirmary has put paid to that for a while.'

'I think it would be prudent if she did receive word from her friend,' said the Abbess thoughtfully. 'A telegram advising her to stay here for a while. Arrange for Sister Letitia to send one the next time she is on her rounds.' She picked up a hand-mirror and checked her beauty with satisfaction. 'Will the girl be ready for the ceremony?'

'I need a little more time to prepare her. The herbalist will take her through the next stage.'

'When she has been prepared you will inform me, of course. No one else is to touch her.

The Mistress shuffled uneasily. 'I'm afraid someone else already has, Reverend Mother.'

The face of the Abbess clouded. 'Who?'

'Walpurga.'

'It's always Walpurga, isn't it. Days to prepare and moments to wreck.'

'She is hot-blooded; she finds it difficult to control her urges. You know what gypsies are like; wild and tempestuous.'

The Abbess was not appeased. 'She can be as wild as she likes, but not with the new girl. I won't have her initiated between her thighs by anyone except me. I think Walpurga's urges need cooling. Have her put on the wheel, and then give her to those men.'

'Men? Which men?'

'The ones unloading that waggon. I counted at least four of them. They'll keep her out of mischief for a while.'

The Mistress bowed, smiled wickedly, and backed towards the door. 'I'll see to it at once.'

The Abbess called her back. 'Then go to the woodworker and tell her to carve me the most beautiful specimen she has ever created - a perfect replica.'

'At once, Reverend Mother.' And she was gone with a swish of her habit.

The Abbess waited until the footsteps faded and the door at the end of the corridor closed. She then rose and slipped her gown from her shoulders. It rustled, to the floor.

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