Church of Chains by Sean O'Kane

she stiffened as if an electric shock had gone through her. She counted the strokes of her punishment in a clear voice despite her gasps and screams.
    As they watched the heavy cords of the whips bite into and then fall away from her breasts, it seemed incredible that she held onto consciousness until the tenth lash despite her body’s frantic attempts to twist away from each blast of pain. Again the smelling salts brought her round and she made it through without passing out again. But like the first girl she collapsed when she was taken down and had to crawl away to be doused in water.
    When the punishments were over, Paula felt as if she had been through an emotional wringer. She was horrified, excited and exhausted all at the same time.
    The last thing she saw as they were marched back indoors was the whipping post being put away. The three girls who had been flogged at it were now struggling to lift the upright out of the hole into which it had been sunk, and carry it away to its storage place.
    As someone who believed in authority and order, Paula couldn’t help feeling admiration for how thoroughly the Church of Ultimate Purification set about its work.
     

 

     
     

    Chapter 5
     
     
    Paula’s group stood in front of their cells. For the first time both their wrists and ankles were free, although the collars and restraints stayed on. But no thought of anything other than the release of exhausted sleep was on their minds as they listened to Brother Davis.
    He told them that they would remain naked until they attained the rank of novice, at which time they would be allowed to wear a simple brown shift. They would have no name until then either; they would wear the number of their cell instead, which would be clipped to their collars on an inscribed disc. One of the brothers passed along the line attaching them. Paula’s number was three; she could feel no outrage at this further humiliation only a resigned acceptance of the Church’s remorseless programme of suppression.
    She did however groan when he told them that numbers one, two and three, were required in the house before they would be allowed to sleep. Numbly she watched as the other girls were put in their cells and chained for the night, then the three who had been picked were marched off with two of the brothers keeping watch. There was the small relief of having the simple liberty to move her hands now, and she tried to look around her as they went. She thought they passed the door of the Punishment Wing but the maze of passages and the number of turns they made soon became too much to remember. At last they arrived in front of a closed door and were halted. The door was opened by one of the sisters. She was a tall, dark-haired woman and as Paula looked at her she was surprised to see that the plunging neckline of her blouse, which revealed the smooth skin of her cleavage, also revealed the stripes of a whipping. But the woman herself carried a whip. Clearly the hierarchy of the monastery was complicated and Paula found her tiredness dropping away to be replaced by curiosity.
    The brothers left them and the woman took over, leading them through carpeted passages which were lined with items of antique furniture and pictures.
    She took them up a huge staircase and then stopped in front of another door.
    “You will all be called on to serve in the Lounge regularly,” she told them. “We women do not merely pay lip service...” she smiled at her own joke, “to the teachings of the Church. Here you will be tested on everything you will be taught. Here you will serve your masters.”
    She opened the door and Paula saw that here indeed were the masters and here was the future they had in store for her.
    The room was luxuriously appointed. The carpet was a deep crimson, large leather armchairs were grouped around tables and the walls were covered in bookshelves. At the far end was a kind of bar, from which some of the initiates were serving wine. The