Karen Florence (12)
"Lucifer, what the hell is going on here?"
A red-haired nun stood demanding answers of me, her gaze and her voice cold as frost. For all the dry, suffocating weight in the room, her own condition was something close to farce. Like an insect pinned to a board, she wore cold, heavy manacles at her wrists and shackles at her ankles, and the habit that was meant to proclaim her modesty and purity had been cut away precisely where it should have covered her — stripped of its purpose entirely. As a result, her nipples, pale pink as cherry blossoms, and her utterly bare pussy were left on display.
Neither undressed nor dressed, she looked more lewd and shameless than any common whore.
"I asked you what happened here."
Even presenting herself in such a mortifying state, she had not lost her composure. Strong self-esteem, or sheer stubborn pride? It might have been simple bravado. But whichever it was, Karen Florence was, at her core, a resilient woman. And Rihardt delighted in nothing so much as breaking resilient women and defiling what was left of them. There was scum in this world, and then there was him.
"Answer me!"
Karen's shout hammered at my eardrums — like the snarl of some great beast nursing a deep wound. Though, come to think of it, the two of them weren't so very different. Both, after all, had been hurt.
It's only natural she's furious with me.
I understood her anger. I could even sympathize with it. Which was exactly why I deigned to answer a question I ordinarily would have ignored.
"You've been taken captive, Miss Karen Florence. By Young Master Rihardt."
"Captive? What reason would Rihardt even have to take me?"
Well now — did she need a reason? If indulging Rihardt's twisted hobbies counted as a reason, then reason enough. It pained me to see her still trying to trust him, even now, even here.
"You really ought to learn to read people better."
"Don't talk down to me like that."
"I never have."
Lip caught between her teeth, Karen Florence glared at me without blinking, and her gaze was positively scalding. If a look could carry heat, everything those eyes touched would have melted on the spot. My head would be the first thing to go, of course. That was how vividly her hot, clinging emotions burned through her.
When I narrowed the distance between us, Karen shrank back with naked disgust. She seemed to have remembered what I had done to her — how I had sucked and lapped between her legs until she came to.
"Don't come any closer."
So naturally, I was repaid with venomous contempt. I had earned that reaction honestly, so I couldn't even call it unfair. It stung all the same.
Straining to hold down the tangle of feelings churning in me as my relationship with Karen crumbled to pieces, I answered her.
"From this moment on, I'm going to train you, Karen. In my own way."
"Train? I'm not a beast, you idiot."
Perhaps it was the nun in her. Her lewd imagination was woefully impoverished. Training isn't reserved for livestock, you know. People are animals too, when you get right down to it.
"There's a saying: what cannot be avoided may as well be enjoyed. So please — feel free to enjoy yourself in your own way."
"You have some nerve, talking so glibly out of that abominable mouth."
Tell me about it.
I closed the last of the distance and pressed myself against her slender body. Warmth bled into me from her skin.
"Ugh."
Tense at my movement, Karen Florence stopped breathing and looked up at me. Had she noticed her own cowering? As if to push back against it, the words came spilling out of her, fast and sharp.
"Does deceiving an innocent person please you that much? Ha, it must have been hilarious, right? How much of a laughingstock was I — the fool who believed every last word of your lies? You should have just sneered at me behind my back. Then at least I wouldn't have to feel this wretched! Why did you have to flaunt your little love affair right in front of my eyes? Did it gall you so much that I wanted Rihardt's affection? Was that it? Did you just have to put me in my place?"
Karen's enraged cry was, seen one way, nothing short of desperate. I didn't bother to argue. Whatever excuses I spouted, nothing would lend legitimacy to what I was about to do to her.
Using the fixtures in the room, I wound the chains binding her limbs a notch tighter. A precaution against any struggling Karen might attempt.
"Why are you keeping your mouth shut? Say something — an excuse, a jab, anything at all!"
I'm sorry. An apology made only inside my own head would never reach her. And still — I'm sorry.
Rihardt, silent until then, finally spoke.
"Karen."
A faint light kindled in the hollow of Karen Florence's eyes. A vague hope, it seemed — that perhaps he might yet fix all of this. Foolish girl. Hadn't I told her? Rihardt was the one who had her taken.
"If you happen to struggle and hurt my Lucy in the process, you won't enjoy what follows."
Rihardt wielded his words with true mischief, jabbing at Karen precisely where it would sting most. Her crimson eyes flickered with jealousy and hatred.
"Aha. So what you're telling me is to fight back and hurt that precious Lucy of yours, then."
As if this training weren't treacherous enough already, it now promised to get worse. I glared at Rihardt with open disapproval. He met my gaze and smiled with his eyes alone. Thanks ever so much, you bastard.
"So, Lucy, when exactly do you intend to begin? I'm getting tired of waiting."
"I was about to, without being told."
Whew. I drew one steady breath and curled my fingers closed, leaving only my index and middle extended. Licking and sucking at Karen's sensitive places with my tongue was one pleasure, but fingers made effective instruments of arousal as well. Lubricant wasn't strictly necessary. Karen's groin was already slick with my saliva mingled with the juices seeping from her own sex.
With my slender index and middle fingers, I carefully delved into her small crevice. Her slit, which had lain sealed in a neat line, clamped stickily around them. Had she truly never touched herself, even once? Her tiny opening barely managed to swallow two fingers — fully lubricated as she was, no less. And even that was only because my fingers happened to run slender. Had it been Rihardt's, two would have been out of the question; his ring finger alone, at most, would have been her limit.
I moved with care, mindful that my somewhat long nails not scrape her inner walls.
Squelch, shlick, shlurp, squelch. Lewd, unashamedly wet sounds rang through the basement. Perhaps because the room was sealed, they carried with startling, shameless clarity.
"Hiihn!"
Karen's face was twisted in a scowl, as if the sensations revolted her. True to her defiant temperament, she tried from time to time to struggle — but I had adjusted the chains in advance, and it amounted to no more than limp, futile thrashing. In exchange, perhaps, a voice thick with resentment and lament battered at my ears.
"Only moments agoo, I actually thought, hh, we couhld be friends... how patheti-hick... of me..."
Why, I wondered. Her contempt stirred small ripples in my heart. Small ripples only, though — they would settle soon enough. I probed Karen's groin a little more roughly.
"Ahhk! Huhk!"
Bit by bit, her voice had begun to carry a subtly lascivious timbre — was she starting to feel it? It was around then that I decided I could afford to push harder.
Hm?
When I tried to press my fingers deeper, they caught against her hymen. Force past it here, and it might tear.
I'll need my fingers to be slicker.
For anyone else, this degree of wetness would have been plenty. But Karen's petite frame came with a correspondingly narrow opening; she needed to be wetter still. In my old life I'd have reached for the lube I kept on hand, but this was the Middle Ages. No such convenience existed here. Spit would have to serve in its place.
I drew my hand out briefly and slipped my index and middle fingers into my mouth. Perhaps because they were the fingers that had been stirring Karen's pussy, they tasted tangy and briny at once. Then, drenched in saliva, they plunged back into her opening — pushing in, parting her. Still tight, but better than before.
"Hnngh!?"
And of course, her reactions had grown that much more sensual in turn. What must it feel like, I wondered — to have another person's fingers burrow into your body uninvited? Filthy, no doubt. Karen's face, already flushed, flared crimson as though it had caught fire, and out spilled heated breaths that sounded, strangely, alluring. Perhaps my careful ministrations during the dozen-odd minutes she had been unconscious had borne fruit. Engorged and dark with blood, her sex had grown exquisitely sensitive to even the smallest stimulation.
As I toyed with Karen's pussy, teasing and tormenting it, Rihardt's words drifted back to me. He had advised me to clear his passing mark — meaning this was, in its way, a test. An assignment. What would it take to earn that grade? I looked down at Karen, who flung fervent hostility up at me even as she moaned.
Rihardt loved breaking other people's convictions. The straighter and sturdier the will, the better he liked it — the very reason he was so gratuitously cruel, so fond of inflicting pain: cruelty bent a will all the more easily. But was Karen Florence the sort of person to buckle beneath mere pain? From what I'd heard, the order's battle nuns endured brutal training; surely among it was conditioning to withstand agony. By what means, then, could I bend Karen Florence's will and earn my passing mark?
Ah — of course. The thread of an answer came together.