Renate: The Bride of Christ

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Part 1 – Renate: The Novice

I.

The morning after her initiation found Renate in a strange bed. She was very, very sore. The bedsheets were sticky with horse semen and even her hair was matted with it. Her body was still mostly covered in silver paint, her marriage dress. She willed herself out of bed with some difficulty and made her way to the adjacent toilet. Her bowels let loose a flood of horse semen and more dripped out of her cunt. Worse, she had a massive headache due to the chicha liquor she had been given throughout the night. She staggered her way to the window. It was close to noon, she could tell. The nuns were coming out of midday services. Several looked quite bedraggled, she could tell, even the young novices. Some held their heads due to the hangover and more than a few staggered to a corner to vomit when they stepped into the sunny courtyard. The celebratory orgy on her initiation had been quite a bacchanal and Renate was amazed that even nymphomaniacs could regret their lust.

“Well, you survived,” said Sister Severa. “These are my chambers, Renate. I brought you in when dusk was approaching and confess that I molested you repeatedly. But you were dead to the world, child.”

“My head hurts like it never has before, Sister,” grimaced Renate. “I am very sore and can barely walk. I am sorry I missed noontime mass.”

“Aye, that you did, and matins too,” laughed Sister Severa. “Most of us barely managed to attend. Now I do believe I have something to help you get over your hangover.”

At that point Renate turned green and could not help rush to the toilet there to empty her stomach. She was amazed at the amount of horse semen she vomited. How many horses had she blown last night she wondered? Then she staggered back to Sister Severa’s alcove.

“I am sorry, Sister Severa,” blurted out Renate.

“Feeling better? You certainly drank a lot of horse semen last night,” smiled the nun handing her a goblet. “Drink this. No, it is not horse semen. It should make you feel better. Just trust me on it.”

“Oh God, I don’t know if I should!” laughed Renate who was getting an inkling of the nuns’ expertise in jungle pharmacopeia. Who knows what it contained! But nonetheless Renate drank the contents in one swoop. It was very bitter.

“That should steady your stomach. Also, chew this,” offered Sister Severa offering her some leaves. “Do not spit it, keep it like a wad in your mouth.”

This Renate did. She felt a sudden rush and her head cleared.

“What is this, Sister?”

“Coca leaves. It helps you keep going. The Indians chew it and so do we when we are on jungle treks.”

Renate was indeed now feeling much better.

“How do you feel, Renate?”

“Better than when I woke up, Sister,” admitted Renate.

“Can you walk?”

“Only with some help. I am very sore as I said,” winced Renate holding on to her crotch.

The nun bade her to come closer and examined Renate’s bare cunt carefully.

“Well, it is a bit distended. The horses’ pounded you mercilessly. For a moment I thought you were going to Jesus. But I guess it is not your time yet, Renate.”

“Sister, how many horses did I take last night?”

Sister Serena smirked. “Well, counting the first two when you said your vows, there were four more you took on through the night, Renate. And Fiona had three more come in your mouth.”

“Oh God, no wonder I am sore!”

“The record taken vaginally in a wedding night is eight horses, Renate. But it is only seven if you count only initiates that survived,” smiled Sister Severa. “Ever since we do not let initiates take more than four horses vaginally in their wedding night. After all, we want to hold a wedding not a wake. Here, this will help.”

The nun stuffed a wad of coca leaves up Renate’s cunt.

“It should deaden the pain a bit,” laughed the nun. “Keep your hands in your crotch to keep them from slipping out.”

“Could I not wear some panties or something to keep it in place, Sister?”

“No, you are to stay nude, that is your vow, remember?” explained Sister Serena. “Of course we let you wear panties and pads when your moon days happen. No one objects. However, note that you will mate with horses even then. Do you understand?”

Renate winced at the thought. “I suppose so. I will be a good bride of Christ.”

Are you hungry now, Renate?”

“Yes,” admitted Renate who, much to her surprise, actually felt some hunger.

The nun sat down on a chair and had Renate sit on her lap.

“Spit the wad and keep one hand in your crotch to keep the coca wad inside your cunt,” admonished Sister Serena.

Then she grabbed her generous breasts and offered Renate a nipple.

“Drink Renate. I have not been milked today,” offered Sister Serena. “My breasts ache. They are very full.”

Renate looked at the large nipple offered and smiled. The aureole was very large and dark. She willingly opened her mouth and proceeded to suck on the nun’s nipples. Sister Serena in turn caressed her lovingly and gently inserted a finger, then two more, into Renate’s anus.

Renate nursed on the nun’s breasts eagerly. A sensation of love filled her (helped probably by the coca leaves that were anesthetizing her soreness). Being an introvert she could not help but meditate on her joy as she sucked the nun’s breasts and drank the rich, sweet, milk that flowed so generously into her mouth.

How many times, Renate remembered, she had examined a particularly attractive female patient and had felt a stirring of lust at the sight of her breasts? But now she was free to express her sexuality and was not being punished by society for doing so. In fact, she was openly accepted by these women and encouraged to make love constantly, to them and to horses (albeit in the name of a marital duty to Jesus).

No, thought Renate, there was no way she would ever go back to “normal” society. There was nothing obscene in what she did, she told herself. It was the outside world, with is hypocritical morals, which was unnatural! And what was more natural than for a woman to crave a large horse cock or another woman’s lovely breasts? My body and their body are here to give me pleasure, concluded Renate. And she would extract the last iota out of it before she died. Besides, Sister Severa’s milk was delicious.

“Thank you,” said Renate having emptied Sister Severa’s breasts and she meant it sincerely.

The nun smiled. Her fingers still rested inside Renate’s anus.

“I just hope you keep it down and don’t puke it,” said Sister Severa kissing her. “The morning after the initiation is very important in the life of a novice. It is then that you realize fully what it means to be a bride of Jesus and the sistership we all share. Now come with me. This day is not yet over and you will never forget it, as long as you live, Renate.”

Sister Serena helped her stand up. As instructed, Renate kept her hands on her crotch to keep the coca was inside her and Sister Serena steadied her by holding on to one of her arms.

“I ask you again, Renate, do you trust me?”

“Yes, Sister Serena,” answered Renate, this time without the least hesitation.

Whatever was in store for her, she knew, she would submit willingly to it. There was no going back anymore for Renate. If the nun ordered her at that point to take a horse member all the way to the balls she knew she would not hesitate to open her legs for it to be done.

*****

II. Renate Takes the Mask

Sister Serena took Renate through several corridors until they stood outside a heavy door. As the nun opened the door Renate could hear some moaning and a mechanical whirr.

On a table the blond novice, Celina, laid on belly. A heavily tattooed nun was inscribing geometric designs into the young novice’s butt. The brunette novice, Sylvia had her hand up Celina’s cunt. Celina was moaning continuously and it was not clear if from pain, pleasure, or both.

“This is Sister Amanda, Renate, our tattooist,” explained Sister Severa. “Do as she tells you.”

Renate knelt in front of Sister Amanda and kissed her pubes, the expected measure of respect all novices had to give to a nun. Sister Amanda, Renate noticed, had flames tattooed in her crotch. The nun nodded satisfied at Renate’s homage.

“Enough for today, Celina,” instructed Sister Amanda patting the blonde woman on her butt.

Sylvia removed her hand from Celina’s cunt. The blond novice stood up and winced.

“Damn! It hurts a lot!” she said to Renate. “Oh well, you will soon find out.”

“We combine pain with pleasure, hoping to unite both sensations so that you welcome either indistinctively,” explained Sister Amanda. “Sylvia is my apprentice and will replace me when I take Jesus fully. She will provide the pleasure, Renate.”

Renate noticed that Sylvia indeed had almost her torso finished. Like all the nuns she was covered with elegant geometric designs.

“I thought we were going to finish my torso today,” protested Celina.

“Patience, dear,” admonished Sister Amanda. “I don’t want you to overdose with Koro. Now go ahead and try and overcome it and hopefully you won’t puke too much.”

“We use Koro juice for ink,” explained Sylvia. “It hurts more than normal tattoo ink. It also has an alkaloid.”

“Yes! I am quite high!” laughed Celina. “And horny! Ohmigod! I need a horse!”

“The ink loses power over time,” continued Sylvia, “but you might get nauseous while the bodysuit is being applied. Another side effect is that it keeps you very horny.”

“How much time does the effect last?” asked Renate intrigued.

“The first three years you wear your bodysuit you are pretty high most of the time,” explained Sister Amanda.

“Euphoric, in fact,” added Sylvia, “plus, basically, you are in heat.”

“Well, not as much as with the red poppy,” laughed Sister Severa. “And yes, Renate, I know what you are thinking, that human females do not go into heat. But we are basically just another mammal, or so I am told. And the Koro has such side effect.”

“You better go lie down, Celina,” advised Sister Amanda. “You don’t have to attend the rosary today.”

“I will take her with me,” announced Sister Severa. “I think I can do something to satisfy her libido.”

She then took hold of the blond novice –who was now laughing rather maniacally and masturbating shamelessly—and led her away.

Sister Amanda took Renate’s hand and led her next to a window.

“Now, child, I was honored to drink horse semen from your cunt last night,” explained Sister Amanda. “But I am afraid that I did not get to appreciate your body as much as I would like to.”

“The silver paint has to come off,” noted Sylvia.

Renate had still most of her body covered in the silver paint of her wedding ceremony.

“You are right, her wedding paint must come off first,” agreed Sister Amanda. “Let us wash her Sylvia.”

“And there is no need to numb your pussy anymore if I am to make you come,” said Sylvia as she coaxed the wad of coca leaves out of Renate’s vagina.

The two women led Renate to an open terrace. Sister Amanda sent off Sylvia for soaps, brushes, and hot water. While the novice returned she touched Renate all over gently caressing every inch, it seemed, of her skin. Renate understood that the tattoo artist was learning the nuances of her skin and let her do as she pleased. Pretty soon Sylvia returned and both women set about to washing off the remaining silver paint off Renate’s body.

Renate stood in the sun receiving the admiring gazes of both women.

“She is beautiful!” exclaimed Sister Amanda. “A goddess!”

“Only Mariah has as shapely a body,” pointed out Sylvia.

“Mariah has a lovely and shapely butt, probably because she is a mix of all the bloods in Brazil: European, African, and Indian,” noted Amanda, “but I am told you are French, right, Renate? I had never seen such curves in a European woman, let alone such a lovely butt.”

“Very much a mare’s!” laughed Sylvia caressing her bum.

“Oui,” agreed Renate actually blushing. “I used to model in the nude for art classes in Paris.”

“Indeed!” said Sister Amanda. “Your body is then a God given blessing and it is proper that you will never cover it from now on. Now, child, do you understand why you are here?”

Renate looked at both women’s face.

“Everyone seems to be wearing a mask tattooed on their face,” she noted. “I suppose you would start the bodysuit, such I will get to wear, with the facial tattooing. It is probably the most problematic.”

“Indeed it is,” agreed Sister Amanda. “And yes, we start off with it. You understand then that it signifies your total commitment to this life?”

“You really can never go back to the polite society once you have it placed in your face,” warned Sylvia.

“Plus, it advertises that you are a Naked Sister of Mary Magdalene even more than you going around nude and making love to horses in public,” said Sister Amanda.

The thought of doing just that stoked Renate’s lust and steeled her determination. Yes, she knew, she wanted to go out nude, in public, in the streets, and let herself be fucked by a horse in front of a multitude. And if it required her face be tattooed she would not mind it.

“I understand,” replied Renate in a low voice turned husky by lust. “I won’t ever go back to my old life. Do my face. Let’s get it done with. I am willing. Where do you want me?”

Sister Amanda gently took Renate by the hand and led her to a chair. Sylvia and the nun strapped her torso and limbs down. A padded surface acted as a headrest. Then the women placed a strap across her forehead to keep her face in place firmly against the headrest. Finally they pushed a leather bit into her mouth and tied its ends to the headrest to further immobilize her face.

“This keeps you from biting off your tongue,” explained Sister Amanda.

Then Sister Amanda checked and rechecked every fastening carefully, making sure Renate could not move at all.

Renate’s legs were wide open, kept thus by a spread bar to which her ankles were secured. Sylvia knelt between Renate’s legs and pressed her lips to her cunt. Sylvia looked at her fixedly from between her crotch. Renate stared back. She knew it would be a means of confounding her body with both pain and pleasure and managed to nod as much as she could in gratitude. Sylvia reached for Renate’s hands and held them tightly.

Sister Amanda placed some latex gloves and daubed a substance in Renate’s face. A local analgesic, thought Renate, feeling her face go numb. How much it would help Renate would soon know.

“Koro can be very traumatic the first time,” explained Amanda in a soothing voice. “I don’t want you dying of shock, Renate. Don’t worry, child, I have lost count of the times I have put on the mask in a novice. Believe me, this is something you will never forget as long as you live.”

The nun’s reassuring manner, Sylvia’s loving ministrations, and the anesthetic calmed down Renate, whose pulse until then had been racing. She sensed she was in the hands of an expert. That the nun was about her own age and still called her “child” did not bother her. She knew she had a lot to learn and the nun’s gentleness was soothing. The nun carefully caressed her now numb face running a finger along the lines of her eyebrows and then marking an imaginary line that crossed her face horizontally from ear to ear.

“Such a beauty…” said the nun with a faint measure of regret.

Indeed it was at that point that the enormity of what she was about to do hit Renate. The nun knew this. Her words and tone had been chosen with care to induce just such reaction.

“One last time, dear child, I know you cannot talk,” said Sister Amanda talking to her gently, “if you wish to stop the procedure, just blink twice. If you want me to go on, just blink once. Again, twice for no and once for yes. Take your time and decide.”

Renate took a deep breath. She could blink twice and would probably be allowed to leave the convent at that point. Fiona herself had told her that no one was coerced into staying. The house in Matto Grosso Avenue was awaiting her and an also opportunity to resume her career. Surely there were large dogs available in Brazil. Finding a knot to tie to would not be a problem, she knew. And likely she could come to the convent, Renate hoped, every once in a while to make love to Fiona and a horse. Surely the nun loved her enough to forgive her weakness. After a while, Renate blinked. Once.

“Yes it is then,” said Sister Amanda in a gentle voice. “Novice Renate, I will now apply your mask. Wear it proudly as a sign of your membership in this order.”

Then nun crossed herself and then blessed Renate. Then nun then set about to prepare her equipment. She showed Renate a vial marked Koro and then she poured a small amount into a dish. It was a rich, very black, ink and its odor was not unpleasant.

Meanwhile, Sylvia’s ministrations to Renate’s cunt increased. Sylvia was very, very, talented in the art of woman loving. Renate knew she was building up to a large orgasm. And Sylvia, concentrated on the fluids and movements of Renate’s cunt, could sense it too. Renate gripped Sylvia’s hand hard, willing and encouraging her to continue.

Eventually Renate’s torso arched as much as the straps holding her would allow. Sylvia drank eagerly the woman juices (and horse semen) that now flowed abundantly out of Renate’s cunt and her tongue probed its innards and sensed the contractions of her orgasm. Sister Amanda, who was monitoring it all carefully chose this point to apply the needle to Renate’s face for the first time. Renate bit hard into the leather bit at the first touch of the needle and could not help letting out an animal groan of pain. Neither Sister Amanda nor Sylvia interrupted their ministrations and ignored her cries. If anything, Sister Amanda took care to retighten the restraints as she saw fit.

The more her body anguished the more Renate endured a curious phenomenon. A portion of her mind detached itself from her body, perhaps unwillingly and as a survival mechanism to keep her sanity, and she contemplated what was occurring with a clinical interest. Yes, she could hear her own shrieking and moaning. But it did not seem to matter at all. No, she realized, neither Sister Amanda nor Sylvia were exercising power over her. She was doing this all to herself, of her own volition, it was, she thought, a means of empowering herself. In that sense Renate even felt a measure of pride in the torture she was enduring.

If anyone was exercising power over her will it was Fiona, said a voice that intruded into her mind. Yes, agreed Renate, she was doing it all in a good measure to please Fiona. How she wished then that it was Fiona who knelt between her legs licking her cunt instead of Sylvia! And then, and only then, did Renate feel a measure of regret. But no, she told herself with insistence, if she did this it was her own choosing. That she loved Fiona was only incidental. After all, she had not known of Fiona when she stood in that Berlin stage willing to be ruptured by the stallion. This was her body, to own and degrade if need be as long as she managed to extract the most pleasure possible from it until the day she willingly “went to Christ”. And if getting the mask insured that from now on she would be drinking horse semen from Fiona’s cunt and getting fucked constantly by horses all the better.

The tattooing did not cease for what seemed a long time. Neither did Sylvia’s ministrations on Renate’s cunt. Perhaps Renate’s body had gotten accustomed to the pain. And certainly there were now alkaloids from the koro ink racing through her veins, having been absorbed through her dermis. Renate was well versed in the effects of endorphins for she had seen men wounded hideously who seemed to await triage calmly. A curious lassitude enveloped her now, a resignation to her fate, and her body lay unmoving, her breathing calm and undisturbed, pain and pleasure confounded, while Sylvia’s sweet tongue and the tattooing needle pierced her.

Indeed, thought Renate, these women knew how to confound a body and make pain and pleasure undistinguishable. No wonder they “went to Christ” so willingly, she thought. After years of this life it would be hard to tell where pain ended and pleasure started. Or viceversa, laughed to herself Renate. Maybe they were really the same. What a wonderful realm she was entering! What mysteries was her body revealing to her! Anyway, who cared, laughed Renate to herself. But she could not help but wonder then if she would feel as contented and die peacefully when the head of the horse penis rested inside her chest, right behind her breasts. The thought triggered the onset of another orgasm. This caused her to actually pass out, exhausted from coming so many times. How long she had blacked out, Renate did not know.

Then she woke up when she felt the straps holding her being undone and realized that Sylvia was no longer licking her cunt. She felt herself coming down from another orgasm. Her body had kept on coming even though she had passed out.

“It is done, Renate,” announced Sister Amanda.

“Oh Jesus,” said Renate. She wondered if the orgasmic tremors in her cunt would ever cease.

Sylvia stood in front of her smiling lasciviously and licking her lips. Sister Amanda was gently caressing her brow and pressing a gauze to remove loose ink from Renate’s face. Though Renate’s face was on fire she actually felt euphoric. It was the alkaloid effects of the koro she knew plus the overload of pain and pleasure she had undergone.

“She has stopped coming, I think,” said Sister Amanda.

“About time,” smirked Sylvia. “Any more orgasms and she would have had a heart attack.”

“That is how it should be,” smiled Sister Amanda.

Renate took the hand mirror that Sister Amanda passed her.

“Look child,” said Sister Amanda gently.

Renate could not help hesitating for a brief moment. But then she looked at her new face. A very black mask covered from her eyebrows down to a horizontal line that crossed from ear to ear and crossed the tip of her nose. Even the eyelids were tattooed, which seemed amazing to Renate and testified to Sister Amanda’s skill. The result was both lovely and savage looking. She trembled involuntarily. The creature staring back at her was no longer human. It was the face of a bacchante, a woman given entirely to lust, without any regard for society’s mores. Renate stared at herself for long minutes. Try as she could she could not find a measure of regret in her thoughts. Her only regret, she realized, was that she had not known of the Naked Sisters of Mary Magdalene years before. Gently, Sister Amanda took the mirror off her hands.

“It is hard to accept your new face, I know. It blew my mind when I first saw myself,” laughed Sylvia. “But you really look lovely, Renate.”

“Help her stand up slowly, Sylvia,” directed Sister Amanda. “And keep an eye on her. Koro is unpredictable.”

“Hang on to me, Renate,” cautioned Sylvia. “You are probably as high as a kite and horny as a mare in heat right now.”

“Kiss me you two,” begged Renate plaintively, “just kiss me.”

And this the two women did, locking their lips with Renate in long passionate kisses.

*****

III. Renate in Heat

Sylvia helped Renate back to the novice’s quarters and laid her on her bunk. Renate was moaning and writhing and holding on to her crotch. Her vagina could not stop quavering in a spontaneous orgasm.

“How is she?” asked Celina.

“I think she is in heat, because of the Koro,” explained Sylvia. “But if she comes more she will have a stroke, I think.”

“Well, it is always like that when we get the mask,” agreed Celina. “I could not stop coming for hours afterwards. Koro is always hard to take the first time.”

“Yes, but Renate is no spring chicken,” pointed out Sylvia with concern. “I myself was only 18 when I took the mask and I doubt that you were older.”

Renate writhed caressing her pubes and her body. She was no longer rational. Her cunt was dripping wet.

Sister Severa swore when she saw Renate thus.

“Damn! We need to keep her from coming or she is going to go mad!” cried Sister Severa.

“Can we tie her down?” suggested Sylvia.

“Or better yet, let’s take her to the stable and let her take a horse now,” said Celina.

“No, way!” replied Sister Severa. “She would push herself unto the shaft and rupture herself.”

“So?” shrugged Celina. “She can be with Christ then.”

“Fiona would be mad, I can assure you,” snarled Sister Severa. “You two would be the next to take the shaft fully and I would be right behind you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to go to Christ soon anyway?” asked Celina.

“Yes, in three weeks, you little cunt, and until then I intend to enjoy every last minute of life!” roared Sister Severa. “Damn! Why was I saddled with this raging nymphomaniac in my last days?”

“How about we give her a cold shower?” offered Sylvia.

“Would hardly faze her, I think. Her pussy is out of control,” said Sister Severa. “I heard it happens. If the situation becomes permanent she will orgasm with any small stimulus. Even a simple caress will induce it. Believe it or not, but it can be hell on earth for the one afflicted with it.”

“Is there anything at all that can be done?” asked Celina.

Sister Severa shook her head. “I will be right back. Make sure she does not hurt herself! Don’t let her near any broom handles! Her body belongs to the order. She cannot commit suicide unless we deem it the best.”

The two young novices were at loss about what to do to calm Renate down. By this time Renate was furiously fisting herself.

“Let’s grab on to her arms,” said Celina, “before she ruptures herself with her fist.”

The two nuns then motioned other novices to help her grab on to Renate who was by this time actually foaming by the mouth and screaming all wide eyed. She cursed them when they made her remove her fist from her cunt.

Sister Severa showed up with an injection and plunged it into Renate. Slowly, Renate’s frenzied movements slowed down. Soon she was snoring.

“Nothing like an opium compound,” smiled Sister Severa. “Calms the nuts right away!”

“Do we just let her be?” asked Sylvia.

“No, take her to Fiona’s quarters,” ordered Sister Severa.

“But…” said Celina in protest. Very few dared enter the Mother Superior’s quarters.

“Don’t question the Mother Superior’s orders, Celina,” said Sister Severa frostily. “She just told me to get Renate to her bed immediately. The Mother Superior knows how hard Koro juice can affect the ones that take the mask. I will warn her of the kind of virago Renate has become. Maybe she will have her ruptured and set her at peace. And you all better be willing to help in that case, understand?”

The two young women paled at the thought of what they would be asked to do.

The novices used Renate’s cot as a stretcher and took her to Fiona’s quarters. The mother superior was there and observed wordlessly as the novices placed the sleeping Renate on her bed. Sister Severa quietly explained the state Renate was in. Fiona thanked them all and bade them to leave her alone with Renate.

Fiona sat next to Renate. Her hands caressed Renate’s body. The sleeping woman shuddered at the touch and a steady stream of woman fluids came out of her cunt. She was still coming, in her sleep. Fiona pressed her mouth to Renate’s cunt and tasted the women fluids coming out so abundantly. Then the Mother Superior stood and contemplated the sleeping Renate repeatedly going over and over her prostrate figure. Fiona could not get enough of Renate’s beauty, which seemed specially enhanced seeing her nude and in the throes of orgasm. Indeed Renate’s nipples were engorged and erect and her labia were tumescent, both signs of arousal. Then Fiona’s hands held Renate’s face and she stared admiringly at the mask she now bore tracing the boundaries of the mask. It did not detract from Renate’s beauty, she thought. In fact, she felt it actually enhanced it. She gently planted a kiss on the sleeping Renate’s mouth.

“What a savage looking beauty you have become, Renate, my love. If you lost your mind because of the Koro I will regret it very much, my dear,” said Fiona sitting down again next to the sleeping Renate. “You would not be the first novice to which it happens. Koro juice is very tricky and affects all women differently. A few it drives mad, I know, just like the red poppy does, and they become ‘in heat’ so to speak. The difference is that the red poppy is taken willingly, prior to going to Christ. Maybe your body’s response is because you are in your thirties and not a teenager like the other novices. You, being a doctor, could probably explain it better. But alas, you might no longer be coherent after this. What a shame!”

Now Fiona took hold of one of Renate’s feet and kissed them gently as she continued talking to the sleeping Renate.

“Anyway, dear, you are in heat and that is how God wills it, I guess. There is no treatment possible then to calm Koro induced nymphomania, I am afraid. Most of us undergo hell the first few hours after getting the mask and then the orgasms stop on their own. But your body just wants to keep coming and coming. We could strap you down and let you orgasm to death while I lick your cunt until you die. Again, it has been done. I personally would not hesitate to die in that manner. Eventually your heart gives out or you have a stroke from coming continually. No woman can withstand that loving torture for long, at least not with her mind intact. But in your case I think you would deserve to take a horse penis all the way to the balls. I can arrange that. And I think you would not regret it, even if you were not in heat. And I swear I will not live one single day afterwards. I will go myself to Christ right behind you. I love you too much to stay alive once you die.”

Fiona tweaked Renate’s nipples. Her body actually arched and she moaned.

“Perhaps you will think it an act of mercy to help you go to Christ,” continued Fiona. “I really wish it weren’t so. Besides, you have such a lovely body! Then again, I wonder if we could have you torsified, that is, remove your limbs, in preparation to make you into a living sheath and be put out to pasture stuck on a horse penis in a bellyrider cradle. Wouldn’t that be fun? You know, we could keep you anesthetized and haul you off to Bahia. There is a doctor willing to operate on you as long as the price is right. I will gladly use convent funds. And I can assure you we won’t let these lovely legs of yours go to waste. But no, it would require several months for your stumps to heal, I know. We cannot keep you anesthetized that long. I know you would be enthusiastic about becoming a torso and being put out to pasture. I mean, who wouldn’t? I am actually considering becoming a torso myself. But for all I know you will orgasm to death much before. Alas, it is a nice thought, being complete helpless and stuck onto a horse penis, don’t you think, dear?”

Fiona then stood up and looked through her pantry. There were several massive dildos awaiting. For a moment her hands reached for one, thinking of ramming it into Renate’s cunt. But no, she stopped herself. This could probably seal her lover’s fate and fry forever her mind. She looked around, setting aside whips, spiked collars, ball gags, and all manner of cruel restraints until she found a black bottle. She smelt the contents. It was vile. The cara leaf juice, she knew, was not only good for curing the mange, she laughed, but also was reputed to calm down nymphomaniacs. Or so some claimed. Fiona doubted a cure existed for such affliction, not that she would take it herself if offered. There was always a remote chance that it would work. She gently pressed Renate’s lips to the bottle and made her drink. Renate gagged but did get the liquid down. Then she slowly fell into a deep sleep. Fiona did not know how much was due to the opium and how much to the cara leaf juice.

Fiona caressed Renate’s naked body lovingly. Renate was indeed magnificent. Such body, thought Fiona, should never have worn clothes. The nun could not help herself. She pressed her mouth to Renate’s nipples and sucked on them. There was a moan from Renate’s lips. Perhaps Fiona’s words and caresses had penetrated her opium induced haze. But Fiona was not sure nor could she vouch that the moan signaled Renate’s agreement to go to Christ or be torsified or whether she was no longer sane enough to agree to anything. And Fiona did indeed need surety of some kind given that she did love Renate. Fiona therefore reached for her rosary and started praying.

A few hours later Fiona woke up. She was curled up next to the sleeping Renate. It was past midnight. A steady monsoon rain was falling outside and a cold burst of wind had entered the Mother Superior’s quarters. Fiona stood up and closed the window overlooking the convent’s main courtyard. She placed a light blanket on her bed and curled up next to Renate. Fiona held Renate’s head against her chest and she caressed her brow quietly.

Renate’s change of breathing pace let Fiona she had woken up. For a while the two women did not say a word. Renate opened her eyes slightly. Her hands grabbed on to Fiona’s torso.

“Just sleep, love,” murmured Fiona. “Everything will be OK.”

“I never have had someone show so much love to me before as you did this night,” whispered Renate.

“Hush, go to sleep,” admonished the Mother Superior.

“No, I heard everything you said, Fiona. My body was asleep but my mind was wide awake. I heard you say how you would send me to Christ and then do so yourself. I tried hard to plead with you to do so, to help me be rupture or to become a torso. Whatever pleased you or you wished to command me to do I was ready to do. But I could not talk. The words would not form in my mouth.”

“That was due to the injection Sister Severa gave you, Renate,” said Fiona. “Now, the question is whether you have control of your body once again.”

“I am not really sure.”

“I see,” agreed Fiona. “Just try to sleep for now, Renate. If we made love it would be too risky given your present state.”

“You mean I could start coming again without control?”

“Most likely, yes,” explained Fiona. “I gave you something to help calm done your libido.”

“It tasted horrible!”

“At least you are coherent for now,” said Fiona. “I will have Sister Francisca, the apothecary, cook up another batch of cara juice. It might restore your balance. Then again, I don’t want you to go frigid on me. We must be careful in titrating the dose. Now we know better and we will make sure all novices that take the mask drink some before the procedure.”

“I doubt anything will ever cure my nymphomania!” laughed Renate.

Then the convent bells started sounding.

“It is the matins call,” said Fiona. “I must go, Renate.”

“I should go with you!” pleaded Renate. “Please! I cannot be left alone! I am afraid!”

Fiona hesitated for a moment.

“Fine then,” agreed Fiona. “Listen, after services you will start training to raise your threshold of pain. It will make matters easier if you have to go to Christ. Do you understand, Renate?”

Renate nodded, trusting Fiona implicitly. And holding hands the two naked women headed to the morning service.

*****

IV Pain

Renate pressed her mouth against the cunt of the tall, gauzy, gray eyed nun and paid the homage expected. Her name was Sister Sandra, so told her Fiona. Renate noticed that the Sister Sandra had heavy gauge rings piercing her outer labia and a cruel looking one actually pierced her clitoris and had distended it. It looked, thought Renate, like a small penis.

“Sister Sandra is an expert in administering pain, Renate,” explained Fiona.

“Has she been whipped lately?” asked Sister Sandra.

“Not that I am aware of,” replied Fiona. “Have you ever been whipped Renate?”

“No, Mother Superior, never,” said Renate and she actually blushed.

Fiona bend over. “Show her, Sandra.”

“Come, Novice Renate,” ordered Sister Sandra. “Look at the Mother Superior’s butt and back carefully. What do you notice?”

Renate looked carefully.

“There are faint white lines in the skin,” noted Renate. “At least in those portions of her body not covered by Koro ink.”

“The Mother Superior,” explained Sister Sandra, “is eager to go to Christ. To do this she must raise her pain threshold. Just three days ago I whipped her mercilessly. Her flesh was cut. She was covered in blood. Yet, as you can see, there is no major scarring left.”

Renate stared at the nuns with some undisguised incredulity.

“That is all true, Renate,” said Fiona. “There are herbs in the jungle whose effects seem miraculous. One such salve was applied to me after my whipping. Don’t worry, your beautiful body will not be disfigured, Renate.”

Renate fell to her knees in front of both women.

“If you wish my body to be disfigured or even dismembered, Mother Superior, it is yours for the taking.”

“Not yet, Renate,” admonished Fiona. “All in good time. Sister Sandra, she is all yours. Make sure she suffers but don’t kill her, for now. Hopefully pain will help her get her uterine furor under control. And do apply the salve. She is too beautiful to disfigure.”

Sister Sandra bade two novices to come forward and prepare Renate. They led to where a thick metal pole stood. Renate straddled the tip and this was slowly raised by some mechanism until its tip entered her. Renate moaned. It was such a relief to be penetrated. If only, she thought, it were a horse’s penis and it were driven deeper.

Then the novices spread her arms and legs so that most of her weight rested on the metal pole. A spreader bar kept her legs wide open. The arms were tied such that try as she would Renate would not be able to drive her torso further down onto the metal pole.

“I know you want to drive yourself down, child,” said Sister Sandra inspecting the arrangements so far.

“Yes, Sister Sandra,” moaned Renate. “I can’t help it. I want it all in! I want it to skewer me and come out through my mouth!”

“That is not to be, I am afraid,” replied Sister Sandra sternly. “Remember your vows? Your body belongs to the order. We will do with it as we please. It is not for you to decide when to rupture yourself, understand? And, of course, you are not to come either unless I give you permission. Is that clear?”

Renate hardly could keep her libido in check at that point but she managed to blurt out that she understood.

A ball gag was then placed on Renate’s mouth. One of the novices approached holding a tray. On it rested a thin, silver, metal pole, perhaps 40 cm. long, with a razor sharp tip.

“Hold her steady,” ordered Sister Sandra and the two novices grabbed Renate’s torso firmly.

The nun then kissed the side of Renate’s left breast. She then slowly pierced it with the thin pole. Renate whimpered and a tremor shook her. A rivulet of blood began to stream out of the pierced breast.

“Very firm,” noted Sister Sandra with satisfaction.

She continued pushing the pole through Renate’s breast until the tip first bulged her flesh and then burst at the other end of the breast. Then the nun kissed her right breast and proceeded to drive the tip into it.

Renate was in agony. Her eyes had been shut tightly so far. But she willed herself to open them. Standing a few meters away, masturbating, stood Fiona. Renate tried to fix her sight on the Mother Superior. Fiona in turn looked at her intently, her face a feral mask of lust.

It felt like a triumph to Renate when the cruel shaft emerged out of her right breast. She stared at Fiona proudly and her eyes glistened brilliantly. She had been skewered through. And the pain seemed to overcome the orgasm building in her loins. Sister Sandra actually smiled at her handiwork. Fiona moaned softly, having reached climax. The ends of the shaft were then tied and looped around a crossbar atop Renate. The two novices pulled on the ropes at the behest of Sister Sandra, cruelly stretching Renate’s breasts upward and causing her to moan in pain. But now she would not be able to drive herself down onto the pole stuck inside her cunt.

Satisfied, Sister Sandra then selected a cruel whip from the ones hanging on the wall. She dipped it in a bucket of saltwater one of her novices held. Sister Sandra swirled it around a few times. Then she started to whip Renate’s back and buttocks mercilessly.

After a while Sister Sandra stood back to contemplate her handiwork. Renate was covered in her own blood and sweat. Cruel cuts marked her back and buttocks. Sister Sandra looked up at Fiona briefly. The Mother Superior bade her continue and kept masturbating. More punishment ensued. Finally Fiona signaled that enough punishment had been inflicted.

The two novices carefully undid Renate’s restraints and pulled her torso off the pole. Renate lost consciousness then. The novices placed her on a stretcher.

“She managed to push herself down some nonetheless,” pointed out Sister Sandra. “Her cunt is also bleeding.”

“Is she ruptured?” asked Fiona.

“I don’t know,” admitted Sister Sandra.

“Very well, take her to the infirmary. If she is ruptured, let me know,” explained Fiona. “We will take her to a horse to finish her suffering then. But if she is intact, do make sure you apply the salve. I don’t want her body disfigured.”

A few hours later Renate was taken back to the novice’s quarters. Renate had her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t cover her,” instructed Sister Severa. “Let her lie on her belly while her back heals.”

Once the nun left, Celina placed a cup of chicha on Renate’s lips.

“Thank you,” said Renate.

“Any regrets so far?” smirked Sylvia.

“You got to be kidding me,” replied Renate sardonically. “It has only been a few days since I said my vows. I got fucked by God knows how many horses on my wedding night. Then I had my face tattooed and started coming uncontrollably. Then my breasts got skewered and I was almost whipped to death. Oh Jesus! Talk about a lifestyle change! But no, I have no regrets! None! I love it!”

“Good girl,” laughed Sylvia. “Besides, no one said marrying Christ would be a bed of roses.”

“You think you can control your cunt now?” asked Celina.

“I doubt it. Maybe. The pain really helped, I suppose. My mind was driven in all directions. My body did not know how to react. But, to tell the truth, I no longer care,” admitted Renate. “Truth is I actually came several times as I was being whipped and that made Sister Sandra even more merciless for she had not given me permission to do so. God knows I wanted to drive myself down onto the pole they stuck in my cunt.”

“That is the best thing you can say,” said Sylvia kissing her. “You are learning. We are to let our body enjoy whatever pain and pleasure comes our way, embracing both fully. We live life to the fullest.”

“Well, the Mother Superior certainly enjoyed my torture,” laughed Renate. “She was jerking off all the time.”

“Then the Mother Superior showed you great honor, Renate,” advised Sylvia. “You should be proud.”

Renate nodded. “God knows why but I think I am. I don’t know if my body will ever be right again. I could feel the flesh tearing.”

“Don’t worry, Renate,” said Celina applying more salve to her back and buttocks. “We have plenty of salve. We novices always keep a stash. In a few days your back will heal and there will hardly be any scars to show. Sister Sandra has us whipped at least once a week. You get used to it.”

“And even get to look forward to having it done,” laughed Sylvia. “Even the Mother Superior enjoys being whipped frequently.”

And that was the last thing Renate heard before falling into a deep, exhausted, sleep.

*****

V. At the Infirmary

Two weeks had passed since Renate’s initiation. She healed swiftly. Yes, she realized, her uncontrollable orgasming had ceased. Pain had done the trick. She had been whipped twice more. She looked forward to it now. The pain had overloaded her body’s ability to react and, thankfully without becoming catatonic, her body had, in a way, “reset” itself.

The convent assigned Renate to work in the infirmary. It was a natural choice. And Renate got to enjoy working alongside Sister Francisca, the apothecary, and learning from her. Every morning, after matins, she would report to her, kneel in front of the nun, and kiss her pubes. At that point, Sister Francisca an early riser who usually mated before matins with a horse, would be leaking horse semen which Renate eagerly drank.

“Have you been mated to a horse today, Renate?” asked Sister Francisca while Renate cleansed her pubes with her tongue.

“Two days ago I did, Sister Francisca,” admitted Renate.

“I see. It is about time you did again. Your cunt must learn to accommodate a horse and the only way to do so is to mate as often as you can with one. After all, it is also your marital duty.”

“I believe Sister Severa will make one available for me tonight,” explained Renate. “I intend to be a good wife to Christ.”

“Excellent!” smiled Sister Francisca. “Now, tell me, Renate, besides blue stain, cara, yerba dura, coconut oil, and Koro, what else are we low on?

Renate stood up. Her face glistened with the nun’s fluids and the horse semen that had leaked out.
She opened the infirmary’s cabinets. Renate had first of all devoted herself to inventorying the infirmary’s supplies.

“We could use some sulpha powder, gauzes, alcohol, and more equipment,” pointed out Renate.

“Equipment? Such as?”

“Forceps for one,” explained Renate. “I am forced to open the women with my fingers when I examine their vaginas. Also, a scalpel could come in handy in case I have to operate on someone.”

“If they are ruptured we help them go to Jesus, Renate.”

“I know,” admitted Renate who dreaded the day she would see such a case, “but what if they have a burst appendix or a simple sty I could drain? One of our novices got ingrown toenail and I had to operate on her with a switchblade. I need some proper tools, Sister Francisca.”

“I see,” admitted the nun. “I am afraid instruments are not available locally. We will have to order them. Make me a list.”

“Yes, Sister Francisca.”

“As for the rest of the supplies, I will go down to the market in Recife this afternoon,” said Sister Francisca. “I want you to come with me. You need some time out of the convent. And it would be good if you mated with your horse while I shop for the supplies.”

Renate could not help pale. She had looked forward to the day she would venture out naked from the convent and mate with her horse openly in the street. But now that day had come and she could not help but be nervous about the idea.

“Is there a problem, Renate?” asked Sister Francisca smiling.

“No, Sister Francisca, none,” managed to reply Renate.

“You are a novice of the Naked Sisters of Mary Magdalene, Renate,” reminded her Sister Francisca. “It is proper that you let the world see you naked and making love to your horse. It is our calling.”

“I won’t let the order down,” said Renate meekly.

“I know it is not easy the first time you show yourself nude on the street,” laughed Sister Francisca. “But the locals all understand. Now, the sun can be merciless. You are quite fair and I don’t want you blistering with sunburn. I suggest you use whatever coconut oil we have left to cover your skin.”

“Coconut oil, good idea,” replied Renate.

“Now sit on my lap and nurse my breasts, Renate dear. They are about to burst,” said Sister Francisca as she sat down on a chair and bade Renate to come forth.

Eventually the bells rang for the noontime service. Renate was very nervous and very aroused as the time approached for her first venture naked into the streets of Recife. She could, in fact, not help but masturbate during the noontime service. This did not raise an eyebrow, many of the other novices and nuns did so openly during mass.

“Renate?” said a familiar voice.

Renate turned. Next to her stood Fiona.

“Mother Superior,” said Renate falling to her knees and kissing the nun’s pubes.

“Come with me, dear,” ordered Fiona taking her by the hand.

The two women entered the Mother Superior’s quarters.

“Sit down, my love,” bade her Fiona as she rummaged in her cabinet.

“I had not seen you in many days, Mother Superior,” dared say Renate trying to sound as respectful as possible.

Fiona smiled. On her hand was a dark bottle.

“Please, we are alone,” said Fiona planting her lips on Renate’s and giving her a long kiss. “You don’t have to ‘Mother Superior’ me here. Now, tell me, how are you doing? And I mean mentally, of course.”

“My runaway libido seems under control,” replied Renate trying to be as medically precise as possible. “I have not spontaneously orgasmed so far. Nonetheless, I feel I am barely in control at this point, as if the torture could start again any moment.”

“Take another swig of cara juice then,” said Fiona offering her the bottle. “Just a sip, mind you, I don’t want you going frigid on me.

This Renate did, taking precisely one sip as instructed.

“I don’t think my nymphomania will ever be cured,” laughed Renate. “Perhaps controlled, but not cured.”

“I saw you rubbing yourself most enthusiastically during noontime mass,” smiled Fiona. “Keep the bottle. If you feel you are losing control, take a swig.”

“Sister Francisca is taking me to Recife today,” explained Renate. “It will be my first nude outing. And she wants me to mate with the horse.”

“Oh Jesus!” laughed Fiona. “Your first nude outing and first public mating! Listen, Renate, I will not take no for an answer. Take Plata with you. He is my personal horse. I have been using Rapido and Plata’s balls are about to burst. I know, he is thicker than most. But I am sure you can handle it.”

To show her gratitude for the honor Fiona was giving her, Renata fell to her knees and pressed her mouth to Fiona’s pubes in adoration. Renate was becoming very skilled in woman loving since she performed cunninlingus on about a dozen different women every day (and even more did on her). Thus Fiona was promptly brought to orgasm.

“Stand up, my love,” noted Fiona giving her a hand. The nun gazed on Renate admiringly. “I see your tattooing is coming along.”

Indeed Renate’s butt and most of her torso was now decorated with intricate geometric patterns.

“I only lack your ‘boots’,” said Renate pointing to Fiona’s legs. “All the nuns and a few of the novices wear them.”

Indeed, a couple of centimeters above the nun’s knees and down to her feet every inch of her flesh was blackened and tattooed.

“Ah, yes, my riding ‘boots’ as you call them,” smiled Fiona. “Sit on my lap, my love, and empty my breasts while I tell you about these boots.”

Renate pressed her lips to Fiona’s left breast and began feeding. Fiona meanwhile probed Renate’s wet cunt.

“The ‘boots’ signify that the wearer is an accomplished bellyrider, a woman that can steer her horse from underneath it. Most likely you will start your bellyriding training soon. Tradition requires your other tattooing be done first. There is a story and significance in the bodysuit you will wear and I should tell it to you so you can wear it with pride.”

Renate looked up at the nun as she nursed, as if coaxing her to go on.

“The great popes of the Renaissance and afterwards, all noted perverts, had protected our order. We had convents mainly in southern Italy and Sicily, where the weather favors nudity. The Reformation Wars changed the attitude of the church towards us. A few forward looking mother superiors thought it wise to emigrate to the new world and so we soon had two convents, one in Bahia and one here, in Recife. These places were newly founded and far away from civilization. We were safe and we could thrive and we did.”

Renate squeezed the breast to extract the last drop. Fiona was obviously aroused for her nipples were engorged.

“Ah, yes, God, that feels good. Anyway, one day a great unrest started in the jungle. Traders and settlers and missionaries were attacked by the tribes. The colonial governor, the viceroy, send expeditions to chastise the tribes. Very few men returned. The jungle, you will soon know, is challenging, to say the least. Anyway, it was then that our mother superiors offered to send nuns into the jungle to appease the tribes. It sounds mad, I know, but the offer was not refused. Perhaps the authorities thought it would be the way to get rid of us.”

Renate changed breasts. Fiona was caressing her brow and pressing her head against her chest as she explained in a voice turned husky due to her arousal.

“To everyone’s surprise, after almost a year, the first nuns sent in returned. They came back laden with herbs and wise in jungle lore. You see, Renate, the nun’s nudity was their shield. We went not clad in armor and with swords in our hands. We were not aggressive or arrogant. We were nude just like the jungle folk. And we trekked the jungle with respect and learned humbly from the Indian shamans who welcomed and taught us. Furthermore, we did not proselytize or sought to impose the Christian religion on the tribes. We listened respectfully and did not mind paying respect to the jungle gods equally. And yes, if someone inquired about Christ, we explained that we were his brides and we made love to him in the guise of our pack horses. Ouch! Don’t bite the nipple! What was I saying? Ah yes, these Indian folks did not know horses then and were terrified of them at first. Yet when we saw how our nuns would mate willingly with these beasts their fright vanished and their respect for us increased. Surely, we were extraordinary women if we could take such huge members! But no, we were not goddesses. That we could die was evident when one of our sisters ruptured while being mated. As a result, the jungle folk calmed down and the troubles ceased. Thus, when the missionaries returned into the jungle our treks had made their task easier. In fact, the Brazilian church had to grudgingly tolerate our existence even though we were being eradicated in Europe. And it so happened that the nuns came back covered in body paint and wearing the designs of the Xingu tribes which we wore as a sign of respect to their traditions. We decided then to have these designs permanently tattooed on our bodies. And we used Koro ink because it last a lifetime without fading and is brighter though it hurts even more than regular ink. As for the ‘boots’, as you call them, are just a way of distinguishing those who have mastered the art of horse loving, the bellyriders.”

“I can’t wait to start my bellyriding training,” smiled Renate having emptied Fiona’s breasts. “I want to wear those boots!”

Fiona laughed. “You will soon find out that bellyriding is very painful and traumatic at first. You pay a price to earn these boots, dear. But enough for now. Go, Renate, find Sister Francisca and get your naked butt down to Recife and fuck Plata hard in front of a crowd. Enjoy! It is as it should be, my love.”

 

Continued on the next page (link below).

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