Sins of the Sect

Sins of the Sect
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ISBN:  9781780804309
Author:  B. A. Bradbury
Word Count:  76,320
Format:  eBook

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BondmaidenBondmaiden
Planet of PainPlanet of Pain
Debbie's DilemmaDebbie's Dilemma

The man steps forward, cane in hand. A dozen strokes is a modest sentence by Griffield Hall standards, but that doesn't mean his victim has an easy time of it. Walter is remorseless, delivering a series of powerful strokes that whistle through the air and hit her bottom with a resounding thwack!
   With eyes shut tight and fists clenched she takes the cruel blows one by one. Though she trembles violently throughout her arms don't budge from her sides. It's an impressive display of self-control, especially from a nervous soul like Ruth.
   Walter clearly doesn't believe in hurrying, for the strokes are spaced a good thirty seconds apart. In between he walks slowly up and down, po-faced, occasionally stroking Ruth's buttocks to assess the damage, or merely standing with head bowed as if deep in thought. It all looks rather pretentious to me, a caricature of the disciplinarian in action.

Pretty young Debbie has disappeared, lured away from home by members of the innocently named Healed Hearts Foundation. Rumours abound that the secretive organisation deals harshly with young women, coercing them into acts of submission and subjecting them to humiliating public punishments in order to secure their compliance.

Debbie's beautiful and curvacious sister, Kate, desperately worried for her sibling's safety, infiltrates the organisation, but the wouldbe rescuer soon finds herself trapped. Obliged to perform sexual acts and made to submit to cane, strap and paddle, Kate begins to despair as events spiral out of control. Can she save herself as well as Debbie, or are the two young women doomed to a life of humiliation and submission?

'This is Ruth,' Walter says. 'She's sentenced to six strokes of the cane for leaving the bathroom light on.'
   We're in the cellar, a dingy and slightly fusty room with bare brick walls and a concrete floor. The place is empty apart from some old wooden furniture stacked at one end - a table with a split in the top and two straight-backed chairs, both with missing seats.
   There are four of us including the girl; a slender, nervous redhead who shivers as she stands before us, trying as best she can to cover her nakedness with her arms. Quinn beckons her forward. She hesitates, then approaches him with jerky steps. He takes hold of her wrists and moves her arms out to her sides. Her breasts are small with pale nipples. The cloud of ginger hair beneath her flat belly is dense and fluffy.
   'Beautiful bush, Ruthie,' Quinn observes with a smile.
   He puts his hand between her legs and rubs her there. Ruth whimpers and rolls her eyes in dismay. I can only sympathise with the girl's predicament, knowing from bitter experience how mortifying it is to be groped in public by strangers. It's plain to see Ruth isn't coping at all well, as she's shaking badly and seems on the point of rebelling.
   'Stand still, girl,' Walter snaps.
   Ruth freezes. Quinn continues to rub her, beaming all the while. After a minute or so his hand moves up over her ribs to her breasts. He teases her nipples in turn, rolling them under his thumb. Finally he spins her around to examine her narrow buttocks. I see the marks of an earlier beating; a few faded stripes, almost gone, with one somewhat more distinct than the rest. Quinn obviously recognises them too, for he traces along them with his fingertip.
   'Your last punishment was fairly recent, I see,' he says. 'Six strokes, am I right?'
   The girl nods but doesn't enlighten us further. That task falls to Walter, who seems to take a certain relish in describing her shortcomings.
   'Ruth's problem is she just doesn't listen, Mr Quinn,' he says. 'This is her third punishment this month for leaving the lights on. You can talk till you're blue in the face, but it makes not a scrap of difference. She'd try the patience of a saint, quite honestly.'
   Ruth still has her back to Quinn. He places his hands on her slender hips in a manner that seems almost proprietorial. 'I know what you mean, Mr Bateman,' he says. 'There's a girl at Rugby who's exactly the same: Jessica, her name is. It just goes in one ear and out the other. We're at our wits end, I tell you.'
   I glare at him, but he chooses to ignore me. I suppose I should be grateful he didn't call this mythical nincompoop Kathryn.
   'So it's six strokes again, is it?' he says. 'I believe that's what you said.'
   'That's right,' Walter says. 'Six is our standard punishment for leaving a light on.'
   'I see,' Quinn says. 'I'm beginning to suspect that's where the problem lies. How about using a geometric progression instead?'
   Walter just stares at him blankly, obviously having no idea what he's talking about. He's not alone. 'Er... sorry?' he says.
   'A geometric progression. Six strokes for the first offence, twelve for the second, eighteen for the third, and so on ad infinitum. Martyn and I find it an excellent deterrent. You must have considered it, surely?'
   'Well, no. I can't say we have, truthfully.'
   'You see the advantages though, I'm sure.' Quinn is still holding his captive's hips and now gives them a gentle shake. 'Ruth here knows she'll get six of the best if she leaves the light on, but she keeps doing it anyway. That tells us we need a bigger disincentive. If the number of strokes keeps rising she's sure to get the message in time, isn't she? It's simple human nature.'
   'I see,' Walter says. 'So you think we should give her twelve, not six?'
   'Got it in one. And the next time it'll be eighteen and the time after that twenty-four. Escalation, in other words.'
   Walter nods slowly. From the look in his eyes I can tell he's liking the sound of this. I feel even more sorry for young Ruth now as Quinn's just made her life a living hell - unless his strategy works and she remembers to switch the damn lights off.
   'We'll do that then,' Walter says. 'A dozen it is.'
   Ruth moans faintly at this doubling of her punishment, but doesn't attempt to challenge the summary judgment. Mild and inoffensive though the refuge leader may appear it's clear he rules here with a rod of iron.
   'Now for the demonstration I promised,' Quinn says. 'We've started already, in fact, by insisting the victim strip naked for her punishment. That's step one. Step two is touching her in an intimate manner, which is called the Penetration Procedure, for obvious reasons. You can use one or more fingers, or even your whole fist if the victim can take it. Experience and common sense are the best guides here. I'll stick to one finger on this occasion, seeing as how it's Ruthie's first time.'
   He spins the girl around to face him once more, his left hand moving up to grip her shoulder while his right slides down to her groin. There's a pause, then Ruth wails softly and lifts up onto her tiptoes as Quinn's finger slips inside her. His smile turns into a salacious grin.
   'The Penetration Procedure is broken down into separate steps,' he continues, 'or phases, as we like to call them. This is phase one: Initiation.'
   Walter moves in for a closer look, his cheeks slightly flushed as he stares at Ruth's groin.
   Quinn's hand begins to move up and down. 'Phase two,' he says. 'Consolidation.'
   Ruth moans as he frigs her, but makes no attempt to stop him. She holds her arms rigidly by her sides, fists tightly clenched, her anxiety so manifest I feel like hugging her and whispering that everything will be fine. I daren't do any such thing, of course, though I do try to catch her eye, thinking an encouraging smile might help a little. My efforts are wasted, as her full attention is on Quinn and what he's doing to her.
   Walter's tongue licks over his lips. 'Interesting,' he murmurs.
   'The Consolidation phase generally lasts from five to ten minutes,' Quinn explains, 'though it can be extended at need. Close observation of the victim's reactions will tell you when it's time to stop. The longest Consolidation I ever undertook was forty-two minutes, though admittedly the subject on that occasion was exceptionally stubborn.'
   That's when I realise the whole thing is complete and utter twaddle; he's making it up as he goes along. I'm embarrassed not to have cottoned on sooner.
   Quinn continues to work Ruth as the minutes tick by, his hand jigging up and down rapidly. He clearly has strength and stamina in abundance as he shows no sign of tiring. I'd love to just walk out and leave him to it, but I know that's not going to happen. Jess would do it for sure, but she's a lot braver than me. Quinn insists on my presence - making me watch is all part of the fun, I guess - so here I stay.
   At first Ruth is shivering with fear, but after a while a strange thing happens; her knees part and her hips start to rock. Though she's still moaning they're no longer moans of dismay but of something else entirely. I can hardly believe what I'm seeing and hearing. To turn her around in this way is astonishing enough, but to do it in so short a time is little short of miraculous.
   Having achieved his objective, namely his victim's arousal, Quinn takes his hand away. The disappointment in the girl's face is plain to see.
   'On to phase three,' he says. 'We call this Resolution. You have the cane handy?'
   'Yes indeed,' Walter says.
   'Excellent. I'll tell you when to start. Brisk strokes, if you please.'
   'Of course.'
   'As for you, Ruth,' Quinn says, 'I want you to keep as still as possible while Mr Bateman is caning you, all right? Prove to us what a brave girl you are.'
   'She understands about not moving, Mr Quinn,' Walter says proudly. 'It's something we insist on here at York.'
   'I never doubted that for a minute.'
   Quinn pushes his finger into Ruth's vagina once more. Her face lights up briefly as she's no doubt expecting another frigging, but Quinn's hand remains motionless. I see him take a firm grip on her shoulder with his left hand.
   'Kindly proceed with the punishment, Mr Bateman,' he says.
   The man steps forward, cane in hand. A dozen strokes is a modest sentence by Griffield Hall standards, but that doesn't mean his victim has an easy time of it. Walter is remorseless, delivering a series of powerful strokes that whistle through the air and hit her bottom with a resounding thwack!
   She bears them astonishingly well, I have to say. With eyes shut tight and fists clenched she takes the cruel blows one by one. Though she trembles violently throughout her arms don't budge from her sides. It's an impressive display of self-control, especially from a nervous soul like Ruth.
   She remains impaled on Quinn's finger throughout. He grins as he watches her face, clearly relishing her distress. As for me, I'm suffering the usual attack of guilt, knowing my presence is putting extra pressure on the girl.
   Walter clearly doesn't believe in hurrying, for the strokes are spaced a good thirty seconds apart. In between he walks slowly up and down, po-faced, occasionally stroking Ruth's buttocks to assess the damage, or merely standing with head bowed as if deep in thought. It all looks rather pretentious to me, a caricature of the disciplinarian in action.
   The punishment seems to take forever. With the final stroke duly delivered Walter moves away. Quinn maintains his grip on Ruth's shoulder as he works his finger inside her once more. Her pale cheeks flush and she starts to pant as her hips resume their coital thrusting.
   Quinn shows no signs of stopping. I can't believe he intends bringing her all the way to climax in front of Walter and me, but as her movements become increasingly fervent I'm less and less confident of that. In the end he brings her perilously close, then releases her suddenly and steps back. Her forlorn cry and the desolate look on her face say it all. I feel truly sorry for the girl, for it's a dreadfully cruel trick he's played on her. As if that wasn't bad enough he rubs salt in the wound by laughing in her face as she stands trembling before him. When Walter gives her leave to go she flees the room in tears.
   Quinn puts on a serious expression and turns to his partner in crime. 'I don't know about you, Walter, but I'm very pleased with the way that went. Obviously Ruth wasn't too happy, but that's the whole point, isn't it? A little degradation now will pay dividends in the long run, believe me.'
   'Oh, I do!' Walter says. 'You've convinced me of that, Mr Quinn.'
   From the glint in his eye and the flush on his face it's clear he's seen the light. Walter is now a true believer, as the women here will soon find out to their cost.

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