A few days later, Maria Clare led the young novitiate down the dark curving steps that led to the more remote catacombs beneath the convent. It was a place the young novitiate had been warned never to enter. Now within the bowels of that deserted section they entered a large room that appeared to have been a place of recent activity. There were candles and oil lamps though only one lamp was lit. A few pillows were strewn on the floor and soft rugs made the place seem almost livable.
Maria Clare led the way down a dark passage beyond and paused before a heavy wooden door banded with iron straps. A small window at eye heigth had a small iron grillwork across it.
“It is time that you were acquainted with a more secret portion of our holy order,” said Maria Clare.
“It is frightening down here,” said the novitiate.
The older woman opened the heavy cell door and sheilding the lighted candle with her hand, entered the dark place that had the peculiar though familure odor of one of the outbuildings. “Certainly, it stinks,” thought Rachael. She inhaled the fetid odors of human piss and shit.
The room contained a hard, wooden bunk with but a single blanket. In the corner, a half full, wooden bucket held stale piss and soft, floating turds. “The Good Mother does her monthly penance here,” explained Maria Clare. The lone occupant of that dreary cell wore a solitary, short, loose garment that failed to completely drape her enormous buttocks. The Mother Superior knelt before a panel mural that covered what might have once been a doorway.
The life size painting, on wood, depicted a naked man though there was a circular hole cut out at the groin. Throughout the year a three dimentional, oiled, erect wooden phallus filled that space where the genitals should be. On special holy days, that opening was filled with the earthly equipment of the Holy Father‘s flesh to be adored and laved by the kisses of a holy sister of the inner circle, those qualified to be in the presence of the true organ of all creation.
Now, through that hole was threaded a long, round piece of what looked to be shriveled flesh. It hung limply against the wood and appeared to have recently be immerced in something wet. The moisture still shone on it.
The nearly naked woman turned to them and wiped a drop of spittle and something thicker, slick and milky, from her lips. “Sister Maria Clare, you have arrived to complete my abasement?”
“If I may be so permitted, oh Holy Mother.” The good nun genuflected before the older woman who remained on her knees.
“I see you have brought the novitiate to begin her initiation in our most holy rites.”
“I have, Most Holy Mother.”
“Does she recognize the object hanging limply before me?”
Maria Clare turned to the younger woman. “You may address the The Good Mother. Do you recognize the object?”
The girl shook her head. She moved closer. “Never have I seen such a soft, ugly thing.”
“You may touch it,” said The Good Mother, “but gently.”
The girl lifted the flesh with her fingers and thought she heard a deep moan or a groan from beyond the thin wood partition. “It seems almost alive,” said the girl.
“It contained some life before I drained it,” said The Good Mother. “It is still attached to a lower life form on the other side.”
“What in heavens’s name can it be?”
“It is that, that differs men’s anatomies from our own,” said The Good Mother. “That limpness, when lost, is named a prick.”
“Surely it is most strange.”
“It is now useless. The drained brother has suffered his pennance beyond the wall,” explained The Good Mother, “as I have suffered mine here. With my holy mouth, I tongued and teased his instrument. I milked his seed until his sturdy weapon droops harmlessly, as you now see it.”
“You have done well, Holy Mother.” said the nun.
“Now I must pay for my venery,” said the older woman. “Lead me from this abomination and that worthless man flesh. Bathe me and lay upon my bounteous buns many applications of the strap I so richly deserve.” Maria Clare helped the older woman from her knees and led her from the cell down the cold, damp corridor to a room where warm springs steamed and bubbled to overflowing in a large stone depression suitable for half a dozen to bathe. She helped the The Good Mother rid herself of her filthy rags.
Rachael watched the garment fall from her massive form to reveal the holy woman’s nakedness. Her large, well formed teats sagged heavily. Her waist, though thick, was not unseemly. The bulging hams of her meaty buttocks were emormous but tightly packed and smooth. In the front, The good Mother displayed in that secret place, where others grew manycurls, a clam as completely hairless as a babe’s crotch. Rachael gasped at a gaping slit that owned no consealment from prying eyes.
The Abbess stood and asked of the younger of her two attendants. “Is this not the largest ass you have set your innocent eyes upon?” The Good Mother slapped her huge buttocks. “And not so badly formed for a woman of my years if I may say so.”
“Quite lovely,” said the novitiate. “I have not been privy to the viewing of many, but surely your bum is the most magnificently rounded my eyes have beheld.”
“In your limited experience, I venture that is true,” said The Good Mother. “But Sister Maria Clare will assure you that there is not a larger arse in the convent.”
“That cannot be denied,” confirmed Maria Clare.
“Now,” said the The Good Mother. “Divest yourselves of your habits and aid me in my ablutions.” Maria Clare immediately shed her habit and seeing the Good Sister doing so, Rachael, the lusty lass, had little compunction in becoming quite naked as well. Soon, in the steaming water, the Good Nun and the noviate laved the naked person of the Abbess, the Mother Superior herself, touching and soaping each crack and crevice, every rounded surface of the huge ass cheeks and the pendulate, large nippled breasts hanging weightily from her chest.
Above all, what most fascinated the little novitiate,kneeling before the older woman was the shorn mount at the juncture of The Good Mother’s enormous thighs. With all evidence of hairy growth removed, the plump inner lips protruded beyond the outer ones and and the deep crack lay oprn, totally pink and vulnerable. Most startling was the small, stiff object protruding from the uper part of the The Good Mother’s slit, an object closely resembling in size and shape of an item Rachael once viewed projecting between the legs of a boy babe except this member did not have the attendant pouch created for the holding the male jewels.
The Good Mother, notcing the young woman’s facination with the object, spoke. “Have you not seen one so large,” she asked proudly.
“I have not,” replied the girl. “As you observe, I have nothing similar, nor does the good sister Maria Clare.”
“Oh you have one. Though quite small it is, no doubt, quite sensitive. Mine, I assure you, is a wonder. The good sister can tell you there is none larger among all the sisters.”
Rachael looked to her companion. “It is true? You have viewed the hidden charms of all those who live in this convent?”
“An so, in time, shall you,” assured The Good Mother. “We hide our charms only from men and their brutish ways. Amongst the sisters, we conceal nothing.”
“Tis truly a wonder,” said the girl. “I am so ignorant in the ways of the world.”
