“Abigail.” Said Mother Superior.
“You are a novitiate who has spent almost a month within our community. You were sent here so that we might assess your potential to become a member of our ancient and secret order. Yet you were seen last Friday frequenting a Public House and have confessed as much.”
She paused. “I find your stated desire to remain within our walls and to complete your training difficult to believe.”
Abigail pressed herself further into the hard parquet flooring. She was laying face down on the floor, arms outstretched. Her white robes bunched around her body. She wanted to say something to excuse her guilt but knew that now was not the time.
Mother Superior turned to the other person lying next to Abigail. To the ungodly the only difference between the two prostrate figures would seem to be the colour of their robes.
“Sister Mary.” She continued, “As one of our younger members it was your responsibility to act as moral guardian to this young woman. In that respect you have singularly failed.”
Mother Superior paused again, mulling over the respective characters of her charges. Problems like these were all too common these days. She sighed, youngsters today! Still she had hoped for better from both of these young women.
Indeed, she expected more because of their own previous good behaviour. Finally she made up her mind. A test of character, yes. Something that would sort the wheat from the chaff.
“Sister,” she said. “You will spend a night of penance in the lower vault, where you will scourge yourself of your guilt in this matter.”
“Thank-you, Mother Superior”, said Sister Mary, her soft voice almost lost against the floor.
“Who will be witness to my penance?”
“It will be Abigail.” Came the swift response.
The Abbess continued, “Abigail, since you are still only a novice you will not be aware that any penance carried out by our Sisterhood must be observed by a fellow Sister. Novices are not usually permitted such.....insights. In your case you will observe Sister Mary performing her penance and in the morning we will see if you still wish to remain within our community.”
“Thank-you, Mother Superior.” Said Abigail, her voice betraying the fact that she did not really understand what all this meant. She was just grateful to get some sort of chance to prove herself.
She heard rather than saw Mother Superior leave the room and waited until she heard Sister Mary move before getting up herself. It surprised Abigail to see a flustered blush in the other woman’s face but Mary ignored the unasked question in Abigail’s eyes, indicating only that she should follow on behind.
It was after evensong when Abigail followed Sister Mary into the bowels of the Abbey. There they met, once more, the Mother Superior.
Abigail had never been allowed to visit this area before and after some twisting and turning down narrow corridors was quite lost. Eventually the Abbess unlocked a thick oaken door and ushered the two women through it. Abigail jumped when the door slammed shut behind them and began to feel trapped when she heard the key turn in the lock.
Now she and Mary were quite alone.
The lower vault was a large room; two walls were bare and sparsely decorated. All along one side the wall had many candles burning on shelves and wall sconces. They gave off more than enough light to see by and enough heat to make the room one of the warmest in the Abbey. Along the final wall was a table with a Bible upon it; but it was not the good book that caught Abigail’s eye.
Next to it was something she recognised only from a description she had once read. It was a martinet, the French version of a cat o’ nine tails - all thin leather thongs and sturdy leather wrapped handle. She was shocked to note that the handle had been carefully carved to resemble a man’s erect penis. Or at least what, in this company, she imagined an erect penis to look like.
Abigail was suddenly very wary of what was about to happen in this room and turned quickly to the door; but she stopped her flight as Sister Mary spoke.
“The door is locked. It will be opened again in the morning. No-one would hear you if you were to call out, but you have nothing to fear. It is I who will pay the price for your willfulness, I who will perform the penance. You are here only as a witness.”
Abigail watched the graceful economy of movement with which the Sister moved, placing a square cushion at one end of the room and indicating that this was where she, the novice, should kneel. Already she felt uncomfortable in the other woman’s presence; before she had absconded they had been close, friends almost. Feelings had been released in her young heart that she had not understood or been able to give a name.
Being locked in this room, alone with Mary, had brought these unnamed desires back to the forefront of her mind. With considerable effort Abigail stifled the urge to speak, instead following the indicated ritual and kneeling on the carefully placed cushion.
Part of her discomfort was the knowledge that whatever Mary was about to endure it was because of Abigail’s behaviour. Mainly though, it was fuelled by her feelings for Sister Mary, feelings that she knew were labeled unnatural by some, and forbidden by many.
Abigail’s reverie was halted by her realisation that she had better watch what was going on and further shattered as Sister Mary began to disrobe. Startled she began to speak, “What are you...” She said, but was interrupted by her mentor.
“Silence.” Mary commanded, and continued, “Abigail, you are here to observe, and if I know the Mother, you are here to learn something of yourself. My penance is your test. For the moment you will be silent while I prepare myself.”
Mary went back to undressing, not stopping until she was naked. It was the first time Abigail had seen her hair, which while cut short was pretty and complemented the colouring of her eyes and skin.
With her last garment removed and neatly folded Mary placed them in a pile on the floor. Then the Sister crossed to the table and reverently grasped the handle of the leather martinet. She clasped it to her breast and to Abigail’s' eyes appeared to kiss the end of it. Then Mary padded on soft feet to the other end of the room, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.
Other eyes, Abigail’s eyes, were fixed on the naked body of the other woman. This was almost too much. Even her wildest imaginings had not prepared her for the sight that now greeted her.
Now she could see the firm upright breasts of the young woman, the lithe muscles and the curves of her natural beauty, all of which had previously been hidden behind her long robes.
Sister Mary stood with her back to the young novice. She held her feet apart, her arms out to the sides and then, with a grace that spoke of experience began to whip herself with the thongs of the martinet.
She started with her arms and moved on to her legs, from her ankles upwards, methodically covering every inch of bared flesh.
As she rhythmically slapped her own skin, so it changed colour, reddening as blood rushed around her body. Her breathing changed also; always controlled; yet it was possible for Abigail to see the rising effort that went into that control.
Sister Mary and the whip were almost dancing with each other, and the longer the dance went on the more physical and spiritual effort it cost.
Abigail had heard about such things, especially within the old church, but had never seen anything like this. Her own response, though, was not what she would have expected. She could see the beauty of the other woman’s sacrifice and began to feel in awe of the changes she was observing.
Deep within Abigail was drawn to Mary's self-chastisement and a part of her began to enjoy the spectacle. She was sure that she was here to learn, and now she could feel herself on the cusp of a secret worth knowing.
Sister Mary now began to flick the long strands of the whip onto her own back and then down onto the curve of her buttocks. Here self control obviously became more difficult. Abigail could read her pain. Then she thought she could see something else, some other feeling rippling through Mary’s body. She wasn’t sure, but the gasp that escaped through Mary’s clenched teeth spoke of more that one emotion.
There was certainly more than one emotion coursing through Abigail. On one hand she was absorbed in the other woman, and in the other woman’s body. On the other, a warm pulse was tingling from between her legs, the sort of pulse that could normally only be dealt with by a long furtive rub after the lights went out.
All of this was topped by the knowledge that it should be her standing there taking this punishment, it should be her pale white cheeks feeling the sting of the leather.
Sister Mary turned to face the kneeling woman. Abigail noticed the light sheen of sweat that now began to glisten on her candle-lit skin and the intense focus of her eyes. Then she could not help seeing the erect state of Mary’s nipples. They were tense, blood filled with desire.
Abigail felt her own breasts tingle and grow in response. She began to find her robes uncomfortably hot. In her mind she put a name to her hidden feelings and groaned aloud with her acknowledged desire for the other woman.
She wanted those stiff teats in her mouth, wanted her own burgeoning nipples mouthed in return; and more. Abigail now knew that she wanted much, much, more.
