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Message-ID: <63490asstr$1440486605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} Christan  Forgiveness
Lines: 494
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 2015 03:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 
Christan  Forgiveness
 
    The warmth from the afternoon  sun and the early spring day, displaying 
the beauty of  nature as the  flowers have started to rise up from the 
ground, showing the colored heads and  the scent in the air of rebirth, as I 
stroll along the road from the  Abbey.  My chores, in exchange for room and 
board completed and now  enjoying the stretch of my long legs as I prepared to 
work in the local tavern  as a bar maid or in Goodwife Taylor's home.  If 
lucky I will be able to do  both this afternoon and evening and make a little 
bit of money to  save.
    The town appearing in sight as I  top the last hill to join the main 
post road.  Watching as a group of women  and men appear coming in my 
direction, and pointing at me or past me as they  walk.  The sound of their voices 
an angry grabble of words.  Two men  rushing forward as I look at the angry 
faces of the women.  Each man  grabbing one of my arms and pulling me roughly 
forward to the slower group of  women.  The stern looks of these Christian 
women and men striking fear into  me.
    "There she is.  There is  that whore.  The young hussy.  The dummy 
girl."  There words  being shouted into my ears as I feel the pummeling of small 
fists and open palms  on my body and face.  Not able to protect myself from 
the onslaught of the  women as the men lead me into the town square and 
then to the local gaol.   The magistrate, small glasses pinched on his nose, 
looking down at me as the men  push me forward to fall at his feet.
    Starting to question the nature  of this treatment and silenced by his 
hand.  "You will get your chance  tomorrow to answer the charges lodged 
against you Missy Araminta.  Tonight  you will spend in the gaol so that you can 
do no further damage to this  community.  Take her inside."
The goaler, an old man charged with keeping the peace  and maintaining the 
town building.  Feeling his hand reaching to pull me up  from the ground, 
the and into the small building the served as the town  gaol.
    Still not sure what all the ado  is about; but seeing Goodwife Taylor's 
anger, knowing that it must have to do  with her husband.  Lecherous man 
that he is and the names that they called  me I can only imagine what he has 
said about me.
    Wanting so badly to ask someone  to explain to me what this is all 
about; but unable to ask.  Wishing I  might ask for a piece of paper and a pen 
that I might communicate with the  gaoler.  I have been dumb or speechless 
since birth.  The good sisters  at the Abbey had taken me under their wing and 
the Abbess has taken to teaching  me to read and write.
    As dumb as I am speech wise,  most of those in the town are not able to 
read or write.  I am dumb; but  smarter then them.
    Looking at the sparse room that  is the jail.  Two room really.  One 
for the gaoler to sit in and keep  watch, and one for the prisoner.  The outer 
room Spartan in that a small  table and two chairs and a bed with shelves 
holding various devices that I  really didn't want to know what they are for; 
but could guess at some.   Unlocking the door to the inner room and looking 
at the drunk in a corner of the  room, the gaoler strides to the man and 
shakes him awake and prods him from the  room.  Then with a look of apology, 
leads me into the barren space.   Wooden benches with worn blankets on them 
being the sitting and sleeping  areas.  A foul smelling bucket being the area 
for relieving  oneself.
    Tears in my eyes as I look  around the dim room.  The very small high 
windows, letting in a little  light.  Sparse would be an understatement in 
what the room was.  A  wooden walled prison with a dirty wooden floor.  Layers 
of grime covering  the boards as I walk to spot in the room away from the 
waste bucket and the  smell of vomit from where the drunk was lying.
    I suppose that I should be  grateful that the gaoler sent the drunk on 
his way and that I would not have to  share the room with the man.  Even 
though it is still a warm spring day, I  hold my arms clasped under my breasts, 
shivering with fear. 
    "I will bring you some supper  and water later."  His words following 
him out of the room as he pulls the  thick door shut and turns the key in the 
lock.
    In addition to being dumb, I am  also Catholic.  The town mostly of a 
strict Protestant sect and not very  tolerant to those not of their beliefs.  
The Abbey and a few others on the  outskirts of town the last bastions of 
Catholicism in the area.  Wondering  if I should get down on my knees to 
pray; but not even sure of what I need to  pray for deliverance from.
    Trying to relive what has  happened since I was in the town last 
evening.  Working in the tavern and  serving drinks and food to the customers and 
helping in the kitchen.  I  didn't upset anyone, or do anything that would 
have earned me the ire of  Goodwife Taylor, unless slapping her husband's 
hand away from my arse would be  an offense.  I did my job and then walked to 
the Abbey to see the Abbess  before she left on a short trip.  I saw her and 
a couple of other sisters  off in the morning, did my chores at the Abbey 
and came  here.  And now I am in jail.
    Delicately lifting up a blanket  from one of the wooden bench and 
shivering in disgust at how dirty it and the  bench are.  Shaking it carefully in 
the corner where the drunk was huddled  and then folding it on the bench 
after wiping it off carefully.  I will  need the blanket tonight when the damp 
air settles in after dark.   Wondering what is done for heat in this room 
when it is winter and extremely  cold.
    My supper of a hunk of cheese  and some hard bread and water, not 
filling or very nourishing; but at least the  cheese and bread were not moldy.  
The gaoler not saying a word to me, just  handing me the food and drink.  Not 
sure what his thoughts are he refused  to look me in the eyes.
    The small repast quickly  consumed and my next problem being the need 
to relieve myself.  Looking to  the door and the small window and then to the 
waste bucket in the one  corner.  Walking to the bucket and gagging as I 
look into it and see a  combination of piss and feces and vomit.  Retching 
quietly as I lifts my  skirts and hopefully balance over the bucket.  Legs 
spread apart, not  wanting to touch of even get near the filthy container.  
Leaning over to  look as I mash my skirts tight to my body.  Starting a slow 
stream to aim  and then slowly letting my stream of urine increase till I fee a 
sense of relief  and pride that I have not splattered myself with my piss.
    Looking at the small window in  the door, then using a hand to wipe the 
droplets of piss from my folds.   Licking the moisture from my hand.
    Sitting down on the edge of my  bench and watching as the sunlight from 
the windows dim to dark shadow and then  to almost total darkness as the 
sun has set.  Just a small flickering  around the door frame and door window.
    The soft sound of whispering  voices outside the gaol.  Then waking as 
I hear a door close and the sounds  of voices closer, on the other side of 
the cell door.  Standing up and  walking to the window, trying to see.  
Shadows flickering on the wall as I  hear feet come closer and the voices hushed 
as the lock turns in the  door. 
    Stepping back and watching as  the lantern leads the way into the room, 
chasing away the shadows of the dark  corners.  The gaoler stepping aside 
to let the women enter.  Counting  them as they fill the room.  Six stalwart 
pillars of the community.   Looking fearfully as they fan out in a half 
circle around me, stepping back till  the wall brushes my back. 
    "Don't worry, she can't call out  or scream good women."  Goodwife 
Taylor in the middle of the group,  stepping forward and slapping my face hard 
with her open palm.  Feeling the  sting and heat of her blow, as my head 
moves to the side.  The other women  closing in around me, as the door swings 
closed with a loud bang of  sound.
    Finding myself trapped in the  room with the six women.  Not soft 
women, but hard bitten women use to  working hard to do all of the chores of 
keeping a house and raising a  family.  Looking from one to another as I rub the 
still warm flesh of my  cheek.
    Startled as two women grab my  arms and pull me into the center of the 
room.  Goodwife Taylor moving close  and then slapping my face again and 
again.  Both cheeks burning with the  sting of her blows.  Tears forming in my 
eyes as I wordless protest with  the sounds of my dumbness.  Standing in 
front of these women as one step  behind me and unbuttons the back of my dress. 
 Then feeling the ones  holding my arms, pulling at the shoulders of my 
dress and slip it down my arms,  pushing it over my hips and down around my 
legs. 
    Held firmly as I try to kick out  at the women around me and find 
myself laying on my stomach on the floor as the  women pull and tug at the shift 
covering my body.  Feeling the cool   against my ass cheeks and back, as the 
shift is pulled over my head, stripping  my body.  The hose on my legs 
being rolled down and pulled off of my  feet.
    Feeling myself turned over on my  back as I look up at the women 
standing above me.  Goodwife Taylor sneering  as she surveys my body, looking from 
my head to my feet. 
    "Such a disgusting  trollop.  She has shaved off all of the hair 
between her legs.  For  sure she is the daemon's bride."  The women prodding at my 
body with their  leather shoes.  Feeling the rough surfaces against the 
soft breasts  and nipples, and the nudging of a foot against my bare pubes.  
"Look  at the whore aroused and looking for a man to seduce with her wicked  
charms."
    The other women nodding and  assenting as they pull me to my feet.  One 
finding a pulley and lowering a  chain from the ceiling.  The two rings old 
and rusty as they work them open  and then clamp them around my wrists.  
Feeling the strain of my body on my  shoulders as they hoist my arms high 
above my head.  The rusty iron biting  into the flesh of my wrists and hands.  
Standing on my tip toes as they  pull me to the ceiling like a slab of meat. 
    Spinning slowly as I feel the  first bite of a birch rod on my ass  
cheek.   Becoming dizzy and disoriented as I  lazily twirl with the added 
impetus of the rods on my flesh.  Mouth opening  and making small sounds of 
protest and failing to get their attention, kicking  out once again.  Hearing the 
satisfying grunt of pain and the curse as my  foot finds a stomach.  Paying 
for the kick with the strain added to my arms  as they burn with pain.  
Tears falling from my eyes as the women step back  and warily watch me.
    Get some ropes from the gaoler,  one of the women toppling a bench on 
its side and then on it top, upside  down.  Sliding it across the floor with 
a grating sound and underneath my  toes.  Watching as a woman returns with 
two ropes and they tie one to each  ankle and then pulling them through the 
legs of the bench to spread and secure  my legs from kicking out.
    Now held in place as the chain  is lowered so my feet are flat footed 
on the upturned bench.  The women  pulling the ends of the ankles ropes 
further apart, spreading my legs wide,  exposing the puffy flesh of my mound.
    Moaning softly and jerking as I  feel the first slap of a birch rod 
against my labia.  Then another making  my flesh jerk inward against the pull 
of the ropes and chains.  Not able to  escape the rough rods as they bruise 
and scratch the tender flesh.  Tears  pouring down my cheeks as I feel a 
sheen of sweat beading my body, in spite of  the night air being cool.  My mouth 
a parody as I scream in wordless pain,  barely a whisper of sound as the 
cruel birch rods, have found the marks of my  small sloping conical breasts 
and the hardening tips.
   "For shame on this spawn of  satan.  Look how her nipples are hardening 
as we beat them, she loves the  pain.  And look at her fat lips, her juices 
flowing out of her nasty  hole."  Not needing to look down to know that what 
the woman said is  true.
    Feeling my face flushing from  the embarrassment and humiliation of 
being naked and exposed to the jeering and  physical abuse of these crones.  
One of them inserting a birch rod to pry  at my cunny.  Exposing the swollen 
lips and the glistening of the walls to  the light of the lantern in the room.
    In spite of the pain and agony,  my shoulders feeling like they are 
dislocated, nipples and breasts torn flesh  with drops of blood oozing from the 
ripped flesh.  My cunny bruised and  swollen with the hard cuts of the 
birch rods.  Still my body is oozing my  juices, and knowing all to well that I 
am becoming highly excited by their  attention. 
    Even as they stop to rest their  arms, my body is still quivering and 
tensing.  So close to an orgasm, that  I never had before.........caused by 
pain and pleasure.  Sweat and drool  hanging from my chin to drip onto the 
lifted breasts, thrusting from my  chest.  The women resorting to slapping the 
small cones of flesh.   Their hands reaching in and tugging on the swollen 
tips of my aroused and  sensitive nipples.  Nails biting cruelly into the 
flesh and twisting and  tugging as my small mammory glands.
    Closing my eyes as I feel the  spasms inside of me building and then 
releasing in violent contractions of my  cunny.  The smell of sweat and the 
lantern, now mixing with the scent of my  aroused flesh.  My lower lips oozing 
my grease to coat the obscenely  swollen flesh with my nasty cum. 
    The comments of these christian  women, becoming more and more obscene 
as they comment on my bodily parts and  what I have done with them.  Shaking 
my head as one brave woman reaches  forward and shoves the handle of the 
bundle of birch rods, into my cunny.   The pointy tips pricking the delicate 
walls and drawing blood as she shoves it  further up my passage.  My body 
jerking to excape; but having no room to  move away from this bitty.  Her wrist 
fuck me with the bundle as if it was  a pricke.  The other laughing and 
commenting as my body jerks in pain and  terror as the woman works the bundle 
deeper.  Feeling the warm drip of my  blood on my abraided cunny lips and 
maybe even my pee, as I can now smell my  musk and urine.
    The widening puddle of my piss  touching the bottoms of my feet, as the 
gaoler looks in and then yells loudly at  them to stop.  "I told you not to 
do anything that will permanently scar  this girl."  His hand reaching to 
the woman with the brich rods and pulls  them savagely from my abused hole. 
    My head back as I yell long and  hard and barely a sound escapes my 
lips.  Sagging, head on my chest as they  continue to "tease" my body with the 
birch rods.  Leaving my arse mostly  clear of the welts that criss cross my 
back and chest and mound and  legs.
    Barely aware of them as I have  maybe passed out at some point.  My 
body having ridden a series of  orgasms.  Each one causing these God fearing 
woman to become more and more  obscene in their descriptions of what I have 
done with the Devil and many of  their men.  How I am a succubus and no male 
is safe from my nasty  body.
    At that, the women gather in a  circle away from me and two of them 
have gone out of the room, leaving the  others to slap at my body with the 
mostly ruined birch rods.  The floor  strewn with pieces of birch.
    Feeling my ankles untied and  much too weak to kick out at my 
tormentors.  Feeling the chains being  lowered till I am kneeling on the floor, 
supported by my raised bound  arms.  The bench being slid from underneath my 
knees and turned upright and  placed in front of me.
    "You Papist bitch, pray to your  god and you master the Serpent of 
Eden.  Tomorrow when you are found guilty  of your crimes, we will make sure 
that the Magistrate metes out the maximum  penalty."
    Awkwardly being bent forward  over the bench as they shove it against 
my stomach and force me back.  The  chains taken from my arms as I lie on the 
bench and two women are grasping my  wrists to keep me from rising.  Just 
laying head on the bench, no fight  left in me as I wait for them to finish 
with what they have planned for  me. 
    My whole body aching with the  bruises abrasions on my flesh and the 
raised welts and swollen  flesh.    Smelling my nasty body, adding to the 
smell of offal  and piss and vomit.   Now my sweat and piss and juices filling  
the room with a plenitude of scents.   
    Not even lifting my head as the  women pull my legs further apart and 
one reaches between them and squeezes my  sloppy and slippery folds.  The 
return of the two ladies not even causing  me to lift up my head, as I wait, 
kneeling in a puddle of my own  making.
    The wet touch of a nose on my  fevered cunny lips and the long swipe of 
a tongue against my fat lips jerking me  awake and aware, as the women in a 
circle, tighten on my arms to hold them  forward and another two have 
grasped my ankles keeping my legs  apart. 
    My body jerking and writhing as  the long wet tongue snakes into the 
wet folds of my womanhood.   Pulling as best my beaten body can to escape the 
taunting and tantalizing touch  of this beast.  The tapping of the impatient 
beast in the floorboards  behind me and then the feel of his slimey cock 
against my thighs, causing me to  try to break away from the women's grasp.  
The pointy tip finding my abused  hole after jabbing into my thighs a few 
times, then feeling the dog pricke as it  pushes easily into my sopping hole.
    The sharp nails digging out  furrows of flesh from my back and hips as 
he grasps my waist and pulls himself  deep into my cunny.  Filling me with 
his nasty pricke.  His arse  shaking in a fast tattoo of thrusts, as I feel 
his fetid breath on my neck and  the drool from his mouth coating my hair and 
back.
    Goodwife Taylor, kneeling in  front of me, grabbing my hair and looking 
into my eyes as the dog fucks away,  making me his bitch.  My whole body 
shaking as the huge mutt rocks the  bench.  The pain and humiliation in my 
eyes as Goodwife Taylor watches and  laughs as my body betrays me one more time 
and I cum on the dog  pricke.
    His knot jamming into the open  of my cunny, filling and stretching the 
delicate and tender flesh.  Tears  pouring from my eyes as I hear the growl 
and then whimper of the dog, as he  seeds his bitch.  My walls still 
clenching and squeezing as he turns away  from me and tries to pull his knot free 
from my hole.  Finally feeling the  burst of my opening spreading and the 
wet pop of his cock slipping out of my  puss.  The thin seed sliding from my 
cunt as my walls involuntarily  continue to clench, pushing out more of his 
seed to the floor.
    "You nasty godless slut.   Now you are a bitch to the Devil and his 
familar."  A smile and then  Goodwife Taylor hawking a glob of spittle into my 
open mouth and coating my  face.
    "Come ladies, we are done with  this worthless piece of offal."  The 
woman releasing my legs and arms,  pulling the bench from under me and then in 
their last  piece of torment, forcing my face into the puddle of  assorted 
fluids between my legs.
    Laying in the moisture half  conscious, till rays of sunshine fine 
their way into the room.  Pushing  myself up weakly from the floor and laying on 
the bench, as I survey the aches  and pains of my body.
    "I am sorry Missy."  The  gaoler is standing in the doorway of the open 
cell, a bucket of water in his  hand.  Looking up at him as he walks over 
to me and pours the cold water  over my back and body.  The shock to my 
system almost causing me to pass  out.  Then laying there as he rolls me onto my 
back and slowly pours the  rest of the bucket, up and down my body.  
    Shivering with the cold and the  shock, as I curl into a fetal 
position.  Pulling my legs to my chest and  rocking on the small bench.  Not caring 
that I am naked and he can, and is  looking at all of my body.  Just wanting 
to hide somewhere in my mind to  escape this horror.
    Hearing him emptying the waste  bucket and bringing in more bread and 
cheese and water for me.  Sitting on  the side of the bench as he feeds me 
and pours water slowly into my mouth.   Laying helpless against his body as 
his hand strokes my back and then my  front.  Taking liberties with my breasts 
and cunny.  Touching with no  resistance from me as I lay against his 
smelly body.
    Finally the man leaving to dress  as the Magistrate wants to see me in 
the town hall after lunch in the early  afternoon.
    The long hours of laying curled  up on the bench waiting for lunch, 
which the gaoler fed and watered me like an  domesticated animal and then had 
me kneel in front of him and suck on his sour  tasting cock that finally 
became semi-hard and leaked a some cum onto my  tongue.  The man patting my head 
and telling me I should use the waste  bucket before the trial.
    Wearing my shift and dress  again.  The seams pulled in spots, with the 
effort to undress me the  previous night.  The dress hiding most of the 
bruises on my body, except  for the swollen cheeks of my face.  Walking sorely 
to the town hall led  back the gaoler who had tied my hands behind me and a 
rope around my  neck.
    Hearing the jeers of the town  folk, the women and children all vocal as
 I follow meekly behind the  jailer.  My legs and pubic area screaming with 
pain with each step as I try  to carry my head high.  The indignities that 
the women subjected me to last  night, still fresh in my head, wondering if 
they did those things to me without  being tried; what will be my punishment 
if they find me guilty of yet unknown  charges.
  I can still smell the  nastiness of my body, in spite of the cold shower 
by the gaoler.  My body  bruised and turning color under my dress.  A 
slickness of leaking dog cum  on my labia and thighs as the swollen labia remind 
me with each step as they rub  on each other and my thighs, remind of the 
pain and this additional charge they  might make, if it had not been for them 
having me raped by the  beast.
    Walking into the meeting house  and seeing it full to standing room 
only as I am lead to stand in front of the  Magistrate as he continues 
shuffling papers importantly playing up his role as  keeper of justice.
    "Missy Aramintf, you are accused  of attempting to seduce and cause 
Goodman Taylor to sin against his wife and  fore sake his vows of faithfulness. 
 You are accused of sodomy and  attempted adultry on the night before last. 
 How do you  plead?"
    Looking at him and knowing I  can't speak I shrug my shoulders and then 
shake my head side to side.   Trying to indicate that I would like my hands 
untied so that I might write my  plea.  Know one understanding as I stand 
trembling unable to defend  myself.
    "I understand that you plead not  guilty, is that correct?"  Nodding my 
head in agreement and then remaining  standing as Goodwife Taylor, says she 
saw a girl looking like me running from  the grist mill late at night, when 
she went looking for her husband.  Then  Goodman Taylor testifying that he 
went out to relieve himself after leaving the  tavern and that I had lured 
him to the grist mill, where I seduced him into  letting me perform oral 
sexual relations on him and begged him to commit  adultry. 
    Shaking my head the whole time  as I hear the words, the mistaken 
identity by Goodwife Taylor and the lie by  Goodman Taylor.  Already I now know 
what happened.  Missy Claire had  been coming on to him, and I had rejected 
him after the tavern closed and then  left for the Abbey to spend the night 
on my knees there.  The Goodman and  Claire had been caught in the near dawn 
and she would look like me running  away.  My eyes pleading to have my hands 
free; but everyone seeming to  ignore me.  The Abbess and other nuns had 
seen me in the early morning  going about my chores at the Abbey and could 
vouch for my not being able to be  in town at that time.
    Looking around the room and not  seeing a kind face as they call for me 
to be found guilty.  The jeers again  drowning out the Magistrate as he 
calls for order.
    "Since none can vouch for you  Missy Araminta, I find you guilty of the 
crimes of sodomy and attempted  adultry.  Crimes against God and our town.  
You are hereby sentenced  to twenty four hours in the pillory.  And twenty 
public lashes, either  by the gaoler or Goodwife Taylor to be administered 
at the time of you being  displayed publicly."
    "I will not have anyone throwing  anything at Missy Araminta while she 
is confined.  Upon release, she will  work for Goodwife Taylor for a period 
of two weeks for free or if Missy Araminta  should choose not to, she will 
be banned from the jurisdiction of the town  forever.  Do you understand 
Missy Araminta?"
    Tears wetting my eyes as I look  around once again for someone to 
understand that I would like to write  something; but am totally ignored.  Head 
lowered as I am lead from the town  hall to the public square and thence to 
the pillory.   Watching as the  heavy wooden board is lifted off to expose 
the three holes, one for my head and  two, one each for my wrists.  Then 
untieing my hands and Goodwife Taylor  and another woman stripping my dress from 
my body and my hose and shoes.   Standing in the town square in just my 
shift.  Feeling the  heavy board lowered to complete the round holes and pinion 
me in a half standing  position, bend over forced to look ahead. 
    Looking up at the overcast sky  and the gray clouds looming in the 
distance, knowing that it is likely rain this  day and night.  The crowd 
shifting to the side as Goodwife Taylor raises my  shift in the back and pins the 
hem to the back of my shift.  Exposing the  naked cheeks of my arse.  The 
Magistrate watching from the town hall steps  as Goodwife Taylor takes the 
switch from the gaoler and using it to spread my  legs apart, then proceeding to 
administer the twenty lashes.
    Thankfully her arm must be a  little tired from the previous night, but 
she laid on with twenty heavy  strokes.  Most of them smacking with a 
resounding noise on the bare flesh  of my cheeks; but she snuck a few to the 
backs of my thighs and between my legs  to bite into the swollen flesh of my 
cunny. 
    Tears rimming my eyes with the  initial strokes and then once again 
feeling a wetness between my legs as the  pain send jolts of pleasure to my 
core.  My body jerking with the blows and  writhing slowly till when the 
twentieth stroke was given, I would have asked her  for a few more, that I might 
have cum and got some relief.  My insides  quivering with need as my shift is 
pulled down over my warm red welted ass  cheeks.
    Not able to look down; but  feeling my hard nipple points pressing into 
the material of my shift, attesting  as I am sure the Goodwife already 
knows, that I am excited.
    The gaoler chasing away a few  kids who had decided to throw some 
rotten fruit and vegetables.  None  hitting my head or face, but feeling them 
splattering my shift and feet with the  bad produce.
    A narrow ledge at the foot of  the pillory allows for a criminal to 
have their legs chained to the ledge or for  the penitent to be able to kneel 
to relieve some of the pressure of the long  hours incapacitated.
    My legs already sore from the  nighttime beating and slowly raising up 
to kneel in the notched grooves of the  ledge.  Trying to alternate standing 
and kneeling.  My legs becoming  aching with the strain no matter what 
choice I made.  As evening falls on  the small town and the gawkers are less and 
less till the town crier calls the  time and lights the lanterns outside of 
city hall.
    The tavern fairly quiet as I  half stand and can here the door opening 
and closing, and the laugher from  the small Inn.
    A bucket of water hanging on the  side of the pillory with a ladle, 
should anyone want to give me a drink of  water.  Other then the gaoler with 
his lump of bread and ladles of water,  not a soul giving me a kind word or 
gesture.   
    The ground between my feet being  wet, even before the drops of rain 
falling onto my body coating me with a sheen  of moisture.  The puddle of my 
waste now being diluted by the growing  puddle around the pillory.  The rain 
falling gentle I would guess, if not  for the face that in a short time is 
had wetted my shift and the thin material  is plastered to my body. 
    The rain chilling me as the  hours move on into the night and I hear a 
splashing in the puddles.   Not needing to know that it is someone, actually 
more then one someone,  approaching from behind.  The whispered voices and 
then the feeling of my  shift thrown up on my back.  Feeling the fingers of 
the probing hand  kneading the swollen flesh of my cunny lips and working in 
and out as I  wordlessly protest in silence.   The fingers soon replaced by 
and male  organ, quickly thrusting between my thighs and penetrating my 
opening.  The  hoarse grunting of the man behind me sawing in and out of my 
helpless  cunny.  Nothing overly long or thick; but with the soreness of my 
tissue  and the additional swelling, the pricke pushing my walls apart and 
delving into  me as I shift on my feet, not able to discourage the rapist.  
Quickly  hearing his grunts as he cums in my cunt.  His spent seed now giving 
some  lubrication to the passage and easing the entry to the next pricke into 
my  cunny.  How many different men fucked me from behind I don't know, other 
 then they came five times in my body. 
    I assumed it was the men from  the tavern, taking advantage of this 
opportunity.  Most likely some that I  had turned down.  My shift still on my 
back as rivulets of water slip down  my back and between my ass cheeks, 
wetting the small wrinkled hole and then  dripping to the elongated lips of my 
cunny.  Stamping my feet to keep blood  flow in them and prevent cramping.
    The next man stepping in front  of me and pinching my nose, shoves his 
foul tasting cock into my mouth.   Fucking my face like it was a woman's 
hole.  Gasping and choking as my  spittle flies from around my stretched lips 
as he finally shoot his thick cum  into my mouth and gulping for oxygen, I 
swallow the nasty goo.  Not seeing  anyone other then those who used my body 
for a vessel of release.  One more  in my mouth and two more in my pussy.  
And I think some young ones, taking  advantage to touch my cunny and breasts; 
but do nothing more.
    My legs cramping as I stand,  legs trembling from the strain, trying to 
support myself as I shiver from the  coldness creeping into my body.  
Looking up from a half dazed  consciousness, as I feel a warm leather blanket 
placed on my back and wrapped  around me, pushing back some of the chill.
    Then smelling the brandy, before  the goblet was offered to my lips.  
Tasting the brandy as it burns my mouth  and tongue and warms my insides. 
    Looking up gratefully as small  pieces of bread are offered to me and I 
slowly chew and swallow the  sustenance.  Feeling the warmth of the fingers 
as they caress my face, and  push the damp strands of hair away.  Looking 
up and just from the scent  knowing who my angel is.  The warm lips on my 
forehead as she dries my hair  and places a leather skull cap on it.  Then 
might feet lifted and one after  another, my shoes placed on my feet, taking 
them from the soggy puddle of mud  and water.
    No more men approaching me as my  guardian angel watches over me.  
Kneeling on the ledge and praying with  her.  Her voice so soft and soothing as 
I worship as best I can as she  recites the prayers out loud.  My head 
pressed to her, licking under the  raised habit.  Tasting the sweetness of my 
angel.  Hearing her prayers  turn to soft moans as my tongue slips into her wet 
folds.  Her hand guiding  my mouth as she does all of my learning at the 
Abbey. 
    My deliverance as she sits off  to the side waiting for the light of 
day, nursing me with her brandy and body  and spirit.  The Mother Superior, 
the Abbess is my alibi for the night of  the supposed infractions.  I was in 
her cell kneeling and adoring her with  my hands and mouth. 
    Goodwife Taylor coming in the  pouring rain at first light to see me 
and gloat.  And yes my punishment  will be cut short by the arrival of my 
savior.  My body has suffered many  indignities and the look on her face, 
revealing that she knows that I suffered  many more this past night.
    Guiding Goodwife Taylor to the  magistrates home and waking him to 
instruct the gaoler to free me.  The  look of distain on her face as the Abbess 
explains where I was that night and  morning and of all the sisters of the 
Abbey that can vouch for my  presence.  Despite the difference between 
Catholic and Protestant, the  Magistrate could not refute the words of the Sister 
Mother.
    A cart used for stores carried  me and the Abbess back to the mountain 
retreat and safety.  There after a  long warm bath, the Mother Superior 
herself nursed me to health......worshiping  at my grotto after all the male 
seed was washed from my  body.............
    
    
    
    
    
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