Taming the Duchess de Montfort Ch. 04

ONE: The Convent of the Sisters of Blessed Charity

Sister Dominique was preparing for her morning prayers. The devout young woman always found prayer an intense experience, often losing herself in the joy of giving herself to God. But occasionally, on days when she was especially blessed, it became something even greater.

When she came to prayer this morning she had had a feeling that this might be one of those days. It had been several weeks since the last time she had been transported into what she thought of as 'her ecstasy'. If God wanted her to have the experience today he would let her know. It was sinful to wish for it, selfish and prideful. She would seek forgiveness for such thoughts at confession.

Anne-Marie de Beaulieux had come to the Sisters of Blessed Charity from her home in the south of France. Her family was wealthy and had noble roots, but Anne-Marie had had the misfortune to be born the youngest of one son and four girls. As a result the prospects for Anne-Marie to marry well were close to nil, in spite of the fact that she was a very pretty girl, with jet-black hair and deep blue eyes. With most of the land going to her brother, the family fortune would be stretched extremely thin to provide two, or maybe three, dowries. There was simply nothing left for Anne-Marie. The best thing for her, and for her family honor, was to enter the Sisterhood and give her life to the Church.

At an early age Anne-Marie was sent to the Sisters of Blessed Charity, where she was raised and educated by the nuns. In addition to her native French, she was taught proficiency in Spanish and English. Everyone knew that she was going to be a nun herself, and when she finally achieved this honor, and the name Sister Dominique, Mother Superior told her that she had been selected to travel to the New World to join the mission in Panama. Only nineteen years old, Sister Dominique was a bit frightened at the prospect of going to the unknown lands across the ocean, but she was obedient and was grateful for the opportunity to serve God and the Church.

When she knelt on the chapel floor, the young nun arranged her robe so that her bare knees were in contact with the hard, cold stone. She avoided any comfort, even the slight cushion that her robe would provide as she moved smoothly through the rosary, then on to her special prayers.

As she prayed, Sister Dominique began to concentrate on her favorite subject, the suffering of martyrs. She knew that God chose only the most deserving for the divine glory of ultimate personal sacrifice, but she hoped that the circumstances that had led her to a life in the Church indicated that she was on the right path. She prayed that the Lord would some day select her for that honor, though she sometimes despaired of the hope, and feared that it might be denied to her because she had the effrontery to want it.

She asked that if the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, could find some special use for her, anything at all, that He would allow her the chance to serve Him. She knew that she was undeserving, that there were others, even in this convent, far more worthy than she was. But she was ready now. No suffering was too great; she would endure anything for her faith and asked only to be given the opportunity to demonstrate it.

As sometimes happened at this point in her prayers, the young nun's thoughts began to drift toward scenes of martyrdom. In these reveries she saw herself chosen to make the ultimate sacrifice, enduring unimaginable suffering, so that she could demonstrate her faith and so that others could be saved. She kept several such scenes in her memories to which she would return often, adding more details each time.

In her favorite fantasy she imagined that she lived in a village where she helped the sick. One day a band of outlaws rode in to plunder the village and to slaughter anyone who stood in their way. In the central square the bandits erected stakes to which they bound a dozen helpless villagers, young men and woman. Some of the women were mothers with small children, and the men were fathers with families to support and protect. The leader of the outlaws announced that he would torture and kill the captives unless the village turned over all their food and anything of value to the raiders. The helpless people quickly complied; bringing several wagons filled with sacks of grain, smoked hams and dried sausages. On top were a few meager items made of silver and a small bag containing whatever coins they could gather.

"Is this all?" demanded the bandit chief.

"Please, sir, this is all we have. We are a poor village, we beg you to have pity," pleaded the town elder.

"What about that church?" the villain said, pointing to their pathetic little chapel. "What's in there?" He knew that such impoverished settlements often placed whatever wealth they possessed in the church.

"Please, sir. That is our house of worship, the Lord's house," begged the old man. "What is in there belongs to God."

The chief drew his sword and placed the point at the throat of one of the bound young women. Dominique recognized her and remembered that she had an infant child.

"I will run my blade through this girl's throat if you do not bring me whatever is in that church by the time I count to ten," he said calmly.

To emphasize the seriousness of his words he prodded the girl's pale flesh with the tip of his sword, causing the villagers to gasp and cry out as a trickle of blood ran down her neck. If her husband hadn't also been bound to a stake he would have rushed forward and undoubtedly would have gotten himself killed.

"One...Two...Three..." he counted as two people ran into the tiny chapel.

Before he got to 'seven' they emerged carrying the poor box and a large silver crucifix. They placed the box on the ground by his feet, and rested the crucifix on top.

"Well, not much better," he grumbled. "You were going to hide this from me, were you?"

"Please, Excellency, we did not think you would want the crucifix," said the old man.

"Why not, fool? Do you imagine that I give a dog's carcass for your filthy church?"

The old man stood there helpless, not sure what the angry bandit might do next.

"This is still a miserable offering. It's not enough, and you need to be taught a lesson about lying to me."

"Please, sir, we did not intend to deceive. It was an honest mistake."

"Silence, insect!" barked the fearsome outlaw. "We will take this pile of shit, but we will also take this woman," he said, pointing to the young mother with his sword.

"No, please, I beg you in the name of the Blessed Virgin, spare her!"

"Not unless you have something else to offer," said the chief.

It was at this point in Dominique's fantasy that she always rose to her calling. In her mind she stepped forward and said,

"Please, sir. Take me. You may do what you will with me, but spare this woman. She is mother to a small child."

In spite of her sheltered upbringing, the young nun was aware that she was considered quite pretty. She took no pride in that, but always hoped that there was some way she could use it in the service of the Lord.

"Hmm," he considered the offer as he studied her. "I suppose you'll do just as well. All right, bring her along," he said to his men.

"Sir, I beg you," Dominique implored the bandit, "could you be merciful and leave the crucifix? It is all these people have."

He paused a moment as he considered her request.

"All right, my dear. Here's what I'll do. I will leave the crucifix, but in exchange you must be made to suffer for the amusement of my men."

On the floor of the convent chapel the kneeling nun hung her head as she imagined herself in the village bowing her head in surrender to the bandit chief.

As the scene unfolds in her mind, Dominique imagines herself in the bandit camp naked and with her arms bound over her head to a tree branch. The men take turns beating her with hickory switches until her body is covered with welts. They pay particular attention to her tender breasts, whipping the firm mounds repeatedly. They torture her mercilessly, using needles to pierce her delicate nipples, branding her on the belly and bottom with hot irons. She imagines that they demand that she renounce her faith, but no matter what torment she suffers she remains faithful. They place her on the ground and forcefully spread her legs. Her most secret and private place is exposed to their evil eyes, and they proceed to touch her there. Still she keeps her faith. They whip her between the legs, but she does not falter. Though still a virgin and innocent as to the ways of a man and a woman, she imagines that they would force themselves on her but she would never waver in her faith.

In the chapel, Sister Dominique was completely immersed in the fantasy. No longer aware of her surroundings, her body was trembling as the dream bandits raped and beat her. The innocent virgin did not understand the significance of the moisture building between her legs, even as her juices began to trickle down her bare thighs to leave tiny puddles on the cold stone by her knees. The imagined tortures increased, her sacrifice for the villagers and her faith driving her to a state of complete bliss. Imagining herself resisting the bandits' attempts to force themselves into her body, she squeezed her legs together tightly, rhythmically clenching her thighs. She placed her hands between her legs, tightly pressing on her womanhood to protect it from the menacing bandits. The images of torture flooded her mind as she repeatedly pressed on her drenched sex, the hard nipples of her breasts rubbing against the rough cloth of the linen shift she wore beneath her robe.

The pretty nun imagined the fiends entering her body, forcing themselves into her sex and even into her bottom as she pressed harder to stop them. Suddenly Sister Dominique was transported into that state of religious ecstasy she craved. Her body vibrated, her breasts shook under her robe as she reached a glorious climax. Gasping and trembling she fell to the floor, her hands still pressed between her thighs.

She lay there panting for several minutes, until her breathing returned to normal, then she got back on her knees and prayed. She thanked the Lord for choosing to bring her another 'ecstasy', which she was certain was a special gift from God to reward her for her faith.

Sister Dominique rose from her morning prayers in a state of near exhaustion, and returned to her cell to wash herself. The young nun knew these ecstasies caused her to perspire, but the amount of moisture she always found between her thighs was a puzzle to her. She regarded this as another sign of the special nature of her gift. She dried herself and put her habit back on, and returned to her chores.

Nearly a week passed and Sister Dominique's thoughts were beginning once again to turn to her special prayers. She found herself frequently lost in the dreams now. She was beginning her afternoon prayers when she heard a commotion outside the chapel. Looking through the narrow window she saw a shocking sight. Men! Men were in the convent! And they were not local people; these men looked bestial and frightening.

Dominique put her hand to her mouth to silence a scream when she saw the men pulling some of the sisters over to the center of the cloister. One of the women was being physically dragged, struggling to get free. Finally, four of the younger sisters lay on the ground, cowering before a circle of what Dominique could only imagine must be pirates. The young French nun also realized that the men had selected four of the prettiest girls.

Four large men pulled the nuns to their feet, each pirate standing behind a girl and holding her firmly by her upper arms. A man came forward and used a long knife to cut down the front of each sister's habit and shift, then spread the ruined garments open to expose the poor sisters' shameful nakedness to the band of men. Dominique knew she should look away, but she couldn't, especially when other men came forward and began to touch the sisters' naked flesh, squeezing their breasts, pinching their nipples, thrusting their hands between the horrified girls' thighs. After a few minutes of this degrading abuse, a man with a patch over one eye gestured for the others to stop. He looked at the sisters' terrified faces and turned to the windows of the convent, where women were helplessly watching.

"You have five minutes to bring me a woman who we will take with us," he announced. "She will come willingly, and you will not see her again. If you do not, we will begin by amusing ourselves with these girls, and I assure you we will take our time and it will be painful." He paused to let them consider that. "Then we will pick four more, and so on until either we have used up all the sisters, or you bring us an offering of one sister who will become our property."

The Mother Superior ran forward, falling to her knees in front of the horrible brute.

"S'il vous plait, monsieur," she begged, "have pity. We have done you no harm. Take anything you want, but please don't hurt the sisters."

"Then give us one to take," he replied.

"In the name of the Blessed Virgin, that is too much to ask. We cannot choose one of our own to sacrifice."

There was an outdoor communal bread oven in the yard, and the man walked over to it and opened the door to the firebox. Even in the sunlight, Therese could see the red glow of the fire. He lifted the iron rod that was used as a poker and thrust it into the hot coals. When he withdrew it the end was glowing red. The pirate leader walked over to one of the young sisters and held the red-hot iron a foot from the end of her trembling, naked breast.

"You have one minute left," he said, and moved the iron closer to the terrified girl's quivering flesh.

"Oh Lord, I know this is a sign," Dominique gasped. "God is showing me my path; the path I knew He meant for me."

Dominique ran from the chapel and into the courtyard. She stopped suddenly when she got close enough to the men to see how big they really were. They were dirty, tattooed and scarred. They were the most frightening people Sister Dominique had ever seen.

"This is the moment," the young nun thought. "I am being tested to see if my prayers were sincere."

All the pirates were looking in her direction. She opened her mouth, and at first no sound came out. Again she tried, and only produced a squeak.

"Out with it, girl. What do you have for us?"

Suddenly Dominique found her voice and spoke in a loud clear tone, "Me! Take me and spare these sisters, I beg of you!"

"No! Dominique, you don't have to do this," cried Mother Superior.

The one-eyed man walked over to her and stood, towering over the frightened woman. He turned her chin up to examine her face, then opened her mouth to inspect her teeth. It was then that Dominique saw that he had a long scar across his face from his brow to his chin.

"You're certainly fair enough in the face, girl. But we need to have more to go on. Take off your habit!" The watching women gasped at the horror unfolding before them.

"No, please!" pleaded the Mother Superior, still on her knees.

"Quiet, you old cow!" he snapped.

Mortified, but determined to live up to her promises to God, Sister Dominique opened the ties at her neck and let the robe drop.

"All of it," the beast commanded.

She untied the ribbon at the neck of her shift, and the white linen fell to the dusty ground. The trembling girl stood naked before them, wearing only her cowl. Her breasts were shapely and firm, but not exceptionally large. A slight disadvantage, since buyers generally paid more for women with very large busts. But her body was lovely, beautifully curved, with a tiny waist and full, round hips.

"Turn around," he ordered.

When she did he smiled at the sight of her bottom. It was delightfully round and firm, with the kind of generous proportions for which buyers would also pay a premium.

"All right, you'll do. Put your robe back on and let's go."

When she reached for the shift the pirate chief said, "Just the robe sister, don't waste time with the underwear."

While she tied the top of her robe, sisters from all around were pleading, "Please, don't take her."

"In the name of The Blessed Virgin, please let her go!"

But it fell on deaf ears. The men released the captive sisters, who immediately pulled their torn habits around themselves and helped Mother Superior to her feet. Then the men walked from the convent, one of them carrying Sister Dominique over his shoulder. She was not struggling, but the women could see that her eyes were closed and she was praying, her rosary clenched in her hand. They prayed too, as they watched her disappear from sight.

TWO: Aboard The Fortune Hunter

Less than an hour later the raiding party was boarding the Fortune Hunter with their prize. Sister Dominique clutched her rosary and continued to pray silently as the crew eyed her, the men not bothered in the slightest that this captive was a nun. If anything they found it even more stimulating knowing what would happen to her. Although she could not hear what they were saying, she saw the men making comments to each other and smiling. Her captors led her across the deck to a hatchway. They lifted the hatch and led her down the ladder to the lower deck, where they took her past the rooms that contained other female captives. They took their time, allowing her to see the women and hear their pleas.

The young nun fainted twice while being shown the bound women. This was far beyond anything that she had ever imagined in her dreams. She was horrified not only by the severe ways in which the poor girls were restrained, but by the obscene sexual degradations that were being imposed on them. When she heard some of them begging to be allowed to 'come', she hadn't a clue what that meant, but she assumed it had something to do with being set free.

She was taken to a large room, perhaps their refectory, she thought, with meager light from a few portholes. They placed her standing up between two posts. While one of the men lit several lamps around the room two men attached leather manacles to her wrists and chained her hands to the posts, her arms out to the sides, but left her legs unbound.

In the better light she looked at the faces of the six men standing around her, evil beasts all of them, and felt a sudden surge of panic.

"Please, have mercy. I am a holy sister doing God's work," she pleaded in desperation.

But she saw not a glimmer of pity in their hard, cold stares. She was terrified, but at the same time she felt a strange sense of peace, knowing that God had finally answered her prayers. She knew she would live up to this calling, to be a martyr for her faith. Whatever happened now, her sacrifice had saved the other sisters.

One of the men stepped closer to the captive nun, and stood in front of her for a minute without saying or doing anything. She wondered what they planned for her, the uncertainty preying on her mind. When his hands moved toward her neck, she instinctively cringed and tried to withdraw. The man grasped the neck of her robe in both hands and pulled, easily ripping the fabric apart all the way down to the bottom. He spread the torn garment open, baring her nakedness to the staring men. As soon as the air hit her skin her pink nipples began to harden and pucker. She squeezed her thighs together, as if to protect her virgin sex from their gazes.

She expected the man to touch her body, but instead he drew his dagger. When she saw the long blade, Dominique whimpered, afraid he was going to use it on her. Instead he used the knife to cut through the sleeves of her robe, and soon the shreds of her garment fell to the floor leaving the poor girl standing naked before them, wearing only the nun's cowl on her head. Sister Dominique had never been naked in front of a man, and now this was the second time today that strange men stared at her unclothed body. She closed her eyes, the shame almost too much to bear.