Abbey Habits

“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.

Sister Mary raised her arm once more and her body convulsed as she began to sweep the leather flail onto her breasts. She criss-crossed her white skin with thin red weals, first one way then the other. This caused her already swollen curves to throb even more, a throb answered by the now insistent pulse emanating from the lips between her legs, lips that she knew were sticky with her own juices. She was close now, close to achieving release; the pain of her chastised flesh transmuting into wonderful pleasure. Soon she would not be able to help herself.

Briefly she wondered if Abigail would learn the lesson as she had learnt it two short years ago, but then other more urgent demands began to assail her nerve endings.

Abigail watched as Mary lowered the target of the martinet until the thong ends were striking her flat stomach. Then they fell lower still until they were beating at the curly hairs joining her legs, at the swollen lips that peeked out at both of them.

Abigail’s breath was coming in short gasps, she was loosing control, One hand crept between her own hot thighs, the other moved up to cup an aching breast. She was close but not as close as the Sister.

Mary beat herself harder, feeling her nub of desire bulging, soon, she knew it would be very soon. Her hips were thrusting, meeting the delicious sting of the many tongued martinet. She could feel the wave coming, drawing up its power. She fell to her knees as it broke. Release washed over her, sweet orgasm ripped through the pain. Unaware that she was screaming, Mary howled her release.

***************************

Quickly though she had to gather her wits; now was the time when Abigail would be most malleable, now was the time for Abigail’s test.

Mary could see the other girl’s arousal; indeed, it had added to her own. That would make her task easier. Mother Superior was right. Abigail was ready to join their order. Now she had to prove it.

“Do you still wish to remain in the Abbey?” She asked, her voice barely recovered from her exertions.

Abigail was startled by the question. Her hand fell away from her breast as she too tried to gather her thoughts. She took her time to reply. When she began to speak it was as if the last barrier between them had lifted. “Yes.” She said. “Yes Sister Mary, I wish to stay and learn more.”

“And how can I be sure of this? Already you have let us down.” Mary replied.

Suddenly Abigail knew that this was her test. The wrong answer now and she would have to leave whether she wanted to or not. She chose her words carefully. “Sister. I am sorry that I absconded from the Abbey. I did it only because of the feelings that had arisen within me regarding my friendship with you. The Public House was a place where Gay people go, and Friday night was an all woman night; but I learned then that it was not other women that I wanted. It was you.”

She paused, hoping that Mary would speak.

Abigail could no longer meet her eyes.

Eventually though, Mary’s silence forced her to continue. They both knew that there was more to come. “I say this not to excuse my behaviour, merely to explain that I have learned my lesson. I wish to stay, and will do anything to prove it.”

“Strip.” Said Mary.

“What..?” Said Abigail.

“Strip. Now. Or leave” came the firm response.

Abigail rose and just as Mary had done before her took of her gown, folding it neatly into a little pile.

When she was naked she could feel Mary gazing at her body. The thought was not anything like as appalling as once it might have been. She had enjoyed Mary’s nudity; now she enjoyed returning the favour.

“Stand with your legs apart and with you hands on your head.” Abigail did so. “Look at me.”

It was an effort to raise her eyes from the floor. When she did so she found Mary looking at her body. Slowly Mary moved towards Abigail.

There was a determination about her that Abigail feared. She feared it and she needed it all at the same time.

The first touch of Mary’s fingers was nothing like what she had imagined. Her fingers were warm and soft, teasing her nipples into full hardness. Abigail bit her lip. Then Mary put the handle of the Martinet between Abigail’s legs, rubbing her gently with the warm leather.

Abigail gasped. As Mary kept up her wrist action Abigail could not help but to slowly thrust herself onto the welcome intruder. On and further on.

“Oh” She said. “Oh please..”

Mary continued to caress and manipulate Abigail’s willing body. Then she stepped a little closer and whispered into her ear. “Do you deserve to be punished?”

Abigail thrust herself harder on to the leather pole. “Mmm” She said.

“Say it.” Said Sister Mary.

“Mmm. Yes.” Replied Abigail, aware of her own wetness on the leather, her stiff teat in anothers’ fingers. “Punish me. I too must do a penance. I deserve it.”

Mary thrust a little harder with the martinet, pulled back her free hand and slapped Abigail’s breasts once and then twice. Instantly the slapped nipples grew harder, her flesh suffusing with the rush of blood.

“Oh,..Oh God.” Said Abigail.

“It is not God that we worship here.” Said Mary.

“It is flesh. It is my flesh and your flesh. Are we not also known as The Forbidden Sisters?”

“Yes.” Said Abigail, but she was not really answering Mary’s question. Her body required an answer of it’s own. “Please..” She continued, and her hips remained thrusting, harder now, more demanding.

Carefully Mary took one of Abigail’s nipples between her fingers. She squeezed. She knew that Abigail was close. A little more pain mixed into the pleasure was required. She squeezed a little harder and saw a frown crease the younger woman’s brow. Still the thrusting continued. As did the squeezing.

"Oh..yes.” Said Abigail, her breath hot on Mary’s face. “Yes, ..please” She said.

Mary spoke into her ear. “I’m going to whip you girl. I’m going to whip you and then I’m going to make you lick me. It’s going to be a very long night.”

Abigail couldn’t help it. Her pulse quickened as dark images filled her mind. It was too much.

She came all over Mary’s thrusting fingers, gasping hot desire into her shoulder Everything she had ever wanted had just come true.

*************************

In the morning the Abbess found them wrapped in each others arms. Each of their bodies bore the marks of the night’s exertions. She was pleased. It was not every day that her order found a novice like Abigail, or like Mary. They were to be nurtured and trained.

Eventually Abigail, like Mary, might become a fully fledged Sister of the Order of Forbidden Indulgence. Perhaps even an Abbess, who knows? Soon it would be time to take a hand herself in Abigail’s education. She licked her lips at the thought.