The Convent

As Ryan slowly came awake, three questions fought for the attention of his confused mind. Why the ache in his throat and groin? What was the delightful dream to which he was so keen to return? And where on earth was he, anyway?

After staring blankly around the unfamiliar and sparsely furnished room, he decided that the last of these was the most pressing. A few seconds' frantic cogitation gave him the answer. He was in the convent. The spooky one.

Along with his girlfriend Dana, he had arrived at their usual hotel the previous night after a long day's travel, only to discover there had been some kind of stuff-up. Not only was there no luxury suite waiting for them, they didn't have a booking at all - and with it being New Year's Eve, all the rooms were taken.

After berating Dana for her stupidity in not checking the arrangement, he demanded the hotel find them somewhere to stay. Two cowed receptionists later, he found a manager who didn't burst into tears when he pointed out her shortcomings, and actually had a solution: a convent nearby that could accommodate visitors in an emergency - which this clearly was.

The convent turned out to be in a Gothic mansion, at the end of a dimly lit road and surrounded by trees. As he crunched along the driveway, towards a large front door that opened with a creak straight out of a vintage horror film, Ryan reflected that there was nothing at all of the pretty seaside town they were supposed to be visiting. They could easily be in a different place - or another era.

His mood was not improved when he learnt that, being unmarried, he and Dana would have to stay in separate rooms - and that a strict 10pm curfew would stop them going out to see the fireworks at midnight.

When Dana tried to suggest that it was just one night, and the convent was "actually quite quaint," he gave her a piece of his mind, ignoring the disapproving looks of the stern looking nun who had admitted them. It was typical of his empty-headed girlfriend to try to see the bright side of such a lousy situation. If it wasn't for her unbelievable tits and legs, not to say her willingness to get on her knees whenever he felt like fucking her pouting mouth, he'd have dumped her months ago.

The one bright spot of a terrible evening was the two very pretty young novices who showed him to his room. He assumed they were novices because they wore white robes, in contrast to the senior nun's more traditional black. He was surprised though to see that they were wearing fairly heavy makeup. The noise their shoes made on the wooden floorboards also suggested they might have been in high heels, though the length of their robes made it difficult to see, But when he tried to talk to them, they shook their heads and gestured towards their mouths. Some kind of stupid vow of silence, no doubt, although that clearly didn't extend to the older nun.

As Ryan blinked his eyes now to adjust to the morning light streaming in through the single window set high in one wall of his cell-like bedroom, his mind kept returning to those two young nuns. Now why was that? Oh ... His jaw dropped open as the memory came flooding back.

It had been during the night. He had fallen asleep, then woken to find the bed sheets thrown back and one of the novices standing by his bed, holding an old-fashioned lantern. It wasn't the dim light that had woken him up, however, but the other young nun. The one whose lips were wrapped around his rapidly stiffening cock.

Ordinarily, Ryan would have had no hesitation in dealing with this situation. He'd have grabbed the girl's head and pressed it down until he was all the way down her throat. But he was so surprised that he simply gaped at the nun crouched over his groin, while he came to a full erection under her skilful ministration.

He opened his mouth to say something, but found it being covered by the girl who had been standing beside him, the lantern she had been holding now transferred to a small table. She kissed him fiercely, then drew back and, as he watched, unclipped her gown and slipped out of it.

He gasped at the girl's slim figure and smooth, chocolate coloured skin. She wore lacy white panties, white stockings attached to a matching garter belt, but nothing above the waist apart from the wimple that still covered her hair and neck. Her breasts were little more than bumps on her chest. Ordinarily, he had no time for flat-chested women. But he knew right away that he would make an exception for this girl - and for her companion, who he saw had similarly disrobed to reveal a lithe body that differed only in the paleness of her flesh.

As the white girl resumed her assault on his manhood, her darker companion took his unresisting hand and slipped a handcuff over his wrist, which she clicked into place and then connected, via a chain, to the iron bedhead. Unhurriedly, she walked around the bed, her shoes clattering on the polished floorboards (he'd been right about the heels). She cuffed his other wrist, then fastened his ankles in the same way, so that he was left spreadeagled, though not uncomfortably so.

He could have protested, perhaps should have, but he was too entranced at the spectacle enfolding before his disbelieving eyes - and at the increasingly urgent pressure being applied to his straining cock.

The two young nuns did not smile or show any pleasure in what they were doing. Nor did they make a sound. But they kept their eyes on him as they took turns to lick, stroke and swallow his meaty pole and the intensity of their stares was almost as much of a turn-on as what they were doing with their mouths.

It took very little time for Ryan to reach his climax, and when he did he came with a vigour that he couldn't recall experiencing for some years. But his two attendants were not finished. Ryan watched, entranced, as the pale one carefully dribbled some of the mouthful of cum she had collected onto her companion's tiny breasts, then licked it up again. A further load was deposited on her own barely larger boobs, for the other girl to collect.

As each nun's busy tongue flicked over the other girl's chest, he could see the nipples stiffening and their owners shuddering with pleasure - the first emotion they had displayed. By the time the novices had finished swapping and swallowing Ryan's spunk, he was already hard again - and they were back at work on his cock.

It took longer this time, but his eventual orgasm was very nearly as good as the first.

And after that ... he simply had no recollection. He must have fallen asleep, he supposed. But there didn't seem to be any sign of his night time companions. Perhaps he really had just dreamed it, he thought - until the realisation dawned that he was still handcuffed to the bed. So that part at least was real!

He shook the chains attached to the bed posts, but they seemed very securely fastened. "Hey," he called out, "let me the fuck out of these cuffs!"

Or rather, he tried to.

All that came out of his throat was a breath of air - there was no substance to the sound. He tried again, with the same result. He'd heard of other people losing their voice, but had never experienced it himself. What a rotten time to have it happen! He must have somehow caught a bad cold overnight - perhaps from those novice minxes who had so satisfactorily drained his balls. Well, that probably explained the sore throat and groin, anyway.

He tried rattling his chains, but the bed was very firmly fixed in place and he could not muster much of a sound. Nevertheless, within a few minutes he heard approaching footsteps and looked over to the door to see a black-clad nun enter his chamber.

She was not the one who had let him in last night. This was a somewhat younger woman, perhaps in her 40s, tall and with a face that might have been called handsome, were it not for the stern expression with which she was staring down at Ryan. The glitter in her eyes made him shiver, and not from the cold. He was all too conscious of his nakedness.

"Did you try to call for help?" she asked. Her voice was melodious, yet carried undertones of command. This was a woman, he knew instinctively, who expected to be obeyed. Well, she was about to be disappointed, he thought. But he contented himself with a curt nod, and contrived with one restrained hand to gesture towards his throat.

"So, you've discovered you can't," she stated flatly. "Call for help, I mean. But what you don't know is why. Or how long it's going to be before you talk again."

Ryan gaped at her, then tried once again to speak. Still nothing. The nun arched an eyebrow, but stayed silent. She held his gaze, until he shook his head and broke eye contact. She could almost see him thinking. Finally, he mouthed the question for which she had evidently been waiting. "Why?"

"Because," she articulated carefully, "our friend at the hotel identified you as someone badly in need of our special kind of, ah, corrective measures. Any doubt we might have had about the accuracy of that assessment disappeared within seconds of your arrival. So, we are going to take you in hand. As an initiate of the Blessed Order of Saint Pilarupta, you are going to learn that you cannot go through life treating the superior sex in the way that you do."

Ryan stared at her and then burst into what would have been a torrent of curses, if he could have mustered a sound. She ignored him and went on. "Your foul mouth is merely the first thing we've taken away. After Alice and Veronica put you to sleep last night, we gave you a series of injections that have paralysed your vocal cords - and everything else you need to make even the smallest sound."

A smile briefly touched her lips, though not her eyes. "Since you are doubtless less than enthusiastic about joining our order, we decided not to wait on a vow of silence. You will be voiceless for as long as we deem necessary. And that, I can assure you, may be a considerable time."

As Ryan tried again to hurl invective at her, she shook her head in mock sadness. "I should warn you that there's a nasty side effect of our treatment. You see, your vocal apparatus is quite important in helping you breathe. But if you want to risk asphyxiation, do by all means carry on, ah, wasting your breath."

Nodding in satisfaction at the stricken look this information had prompted, she carried on. "No doubt you're also thinking that at some point we're going to unchain you - and you'll have your chance to escape. As you'll see in due course, that may not be as easy as you think. But consider this. We have your phone, and we now control your bank accounts, email, social media, everything."

She shook her head reprovingly at his sceptical expression. "Please don't be fooled by the antiquated accommodation. Our organisation has some very advanced IT capabilities. As of" - she consulted her watch - "10 minutes ago you have resigned from your undemanding job at daddy's investment bank, announced your intention to live a more reclusive life, and donated a great deal of money to charity - money that will be used to pay for your re-education. And subsidise some of our other projects."

She sat down on the bed and brought her face close to his. Her voice was suddenly low and menacing. "And if you ever even think about trying to escape, just bear this in mind. We have some lovely footage of you corrupting poor Veronica and Alice in this very bed. They do look underage, don't they? And we'll have papers saying that they are, whether it's true or not. You'd be facing quite the prison sentence."

Her eyes narrowed. Ignoring his shocked expression, she went on. "Or, perhaps we might have Dana accuse you of rape? 'm sure we'll have little difficulty in getting her cooperation once we show her the delightful clips you keep of some of your previous sexual triumphs - or, should I say, the degrading acts you evidently enjoy getting women to perform. She's already agreed to take refuge with us. We have some very interesting plans for her."

That prompted another barrage of silent abuse. The nun laughed sardonically and stood up. "But I can see you're going to need some further lessons before you accept all this. Grace? Eliza? In here please."

Two younger nuns entered the room in response to the summons. Unlike the others Ryan had seen, they wore crimson robes and were much more stockily built - though as with the novices, their faces were caked with makeup.

"Let's make our new initiate a little less comfortable, shall we?" At this command one of the newcomers moved to one side of the bed, put her hands underneath Ryan's torso and lifted him a little way into the air, without much apparent effort. On the other side, her colleague pulled the mattress out from underneath him and then, having propped it against the wall, reached down to operate some kind of lever.

The nun holding Ryan released him and all of a sudden he was hanging spreadeagled from the chains attached to the bedheads, with no support underneath. A shriek tried to escape his lips as the cuffs bit into his wrists and ankles, but once again to no avail. There was a click from below him and all of a sudden that discomfort was forgotten as a myriad of sharp points pressed into his back and buttocks.

Involuntarily, he arched upwards, away from the stabbing pains and tried desperately to see what was beneath him. He had a brief glimpse of what looked like a bed of spikes, before he was once again resting on their hellish tips. Scrabbling furiously, he was able to get his hands on the chains attached to his wrists and mustered just enough force to hold himself up above the spikes.

The older nun peered down at him, gave a satisfied nod at Ryan's agonised expression, and then said: "I'll leave you to hang around for a while then. I'll be back to find out whether you're ready to cooperate - in due course. Sisters?"

The younger pair dutifully followed her as she swept out of the room. Ryan tried desperately to plead for help, but again could not produce a peep. Not, he reflected miserably, that it was likely anyone would come to his assistance, in this out of the way location. And if Dana had turned against him too ...

Tears welled up as he contemplated his predicament - before another soundless scream erupted as he relaxed his grip and his bare bottom was punctured once more. Desperately, he redoubled his efforts to hold himself up, but the strain was already beginning to tell on his shoulders and the less than impressive muscles in his arms. If only he'd taken gym work more seriously ...

For what felt like an hour, but was almost certainly much less than that, he fought to stay above the painful spikes over which he was suspended, until finally the door opened and his black-clad tormentor strode in. He almost fainted with relief, then had to arch up again to escape another burst of pointed agony.

"Ready to cooperate?" she asked lightly. Ryan nodded frantically. "Good," she said. She reached down beneath him and activated a mechanism which, although he could not be sure, withdrew the spikes. Gingerly, he let himself relax in his chains and was relieved to find nothing underneath him. But his joints still ached, the puncture wounds smarted, and now once again the cuffs were cutting into his ankles and wrists.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" asked the nun conversationally. "Would you like to be released?" Another nod. "And you'll do as I tell you?" More frantic agreement. "Very well then, you can start by pleasuring me."

Without waiting for any sign of assent, she loosened her robes and swung her long legs over his torso. He had the briefest moment to register that she was naked under her gown, apart from thigh-high boots, before she positioned herself over his head and squatted down. All light disappeared as she brought her quim down and ground it into his mouth and nose.

As if from a distance, he heard the nun say. "You get to rest when I'm satisfied, understand? And not before. So I suggest you get on with it."

He understood, but for a moment he stayed motionless, aghast at what he was being asked to do. He hated eating women out. He'd done it once, and vowed never again. As far he was concerned, cunnilingus was strictly for lesbians - and preferably for the entertainment of watching men.

But he wasn't being asked, was he? He had no choice, not if he wanted to keep the use of his joints. With what would have been a moan of despair if he'd been able to produce it, he began lapping at the nun's gash, using his tongue to find and probe the opening to her vagina.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to have too much hair, although what was there was wiry enough to irritate Ryan's nose and mouth. For a mercy, she was also fairly clean.

At first, he struggled to find either a rhythm or location that suited her. He wasn't helped by his fundamental ignorance of how women's genitals were laid out. She had to instruct him in how to find and stimulate her clitoris, reaching down from time to time to painfully rake her fingernails over his exposed nipples to get him to concentrate. But eventually he was rewarded - if that was the right term - by a tangy wetness seeping over his tongue and appreciative noises from above.

His jaw was now sore from holding it open and working so hard on licking the nun, and his mouth seemed to be full of little hairs. From time to time he also had to struggle to get air, as she shifted her weight and smothered his efforts to breathe. But the discomfort was almost welcome - anything to take his mind off the agony in his shoulders and the wounds he was sure were being opened up in his ankles and wrists.

Eventually, he felt an increase in the pressure on his face and he could tell from the shudders above and the sudden rush of fluid that the nun was coming. Doing his best to ignore the additional pressure on his joints as she ground her eager cunt into his mouth, he did his best to keep lapping away.

He waited for her to relax and lift herself off him, but was shocked when she simply kept going. For the next several minutes she mashed away at his mouth, shaking and moaning as the spasms of pleasure coursed through her. Ryan had no idea if she was having lots of orgasms, or just one long one. It wasn't as if he had any great experience of female pleasure, after all. He could only wait and pray for it to come to an end.

And finally it did - though it seemed to take an age for the nun to climb off him and then summon the two hulking servants to release him from his fetters and lower him to the ground. He was crying with relief by the time he was able to spread his weight over the cold floor and ease his trembling limbs.

Standing over his prostrate figure, the woman who had bound, threatened and used him dismissively prodded his limp penis with the toe of her boot. "I see you didn't get any pleasure of your own," she observed. "Not that I was expecting you to, of course. Not after the, ah, treatment you received last night."

Oh fuck, thought Ryan. That ache in his groin ... What had they done to him? But he had no time to spare for that depressing thought, not with the younger nuns hauling him to his feet, where he struggled to stand on shaky legs. His whole body felt as if he'd been through a wringer. He looked up finally to meet the senior nun's gaze.

"My name is Sister Mercy, by the way," she said. She chuckled at his expression. "Not my own choice, I can tell you. But since I'll be supervising your training, I'll leave you to decide just how much of a sense of irony those who named me may have had ... But first things first. Let's go and get you settled in, shall we?"

As Grace and Eliza led Ryan away, his tortured joints and muscles sent shoots of agony through his body. His mouth and chin were smeared with Sister Mercy's juices, there were puncture marks all over his back and bottom, and he was still naked. He could only wonder what further pain and indignities might be in store for him ...