Piggie Plumpkins encounters the Femcan Convent.
Episode 6
The next order of business in the Daughters of Devourment’s plans for Plumpkins’ salvation was, of course, his Welcoming Ceremony. He soon found himself draped over “The Salvation Horse”--a wooden fixture resembling a large saddle stand, constructed like an oak barrel cut in half and mounted on four sturdy legs.
This spectacle was set upon a sunken stage centered within the Inquisition Arena and surrounded by opulent leather stadium seating, providing excellent viewing and sumptuous comfort for all observers. At the head of the stage was the Inquisitrix Pulpit, an imposing leather upholstered podium from which an ardent Inquisitrix could comfortably conduct ruthless interrogations and pronounce merciless sentences in complete luxury.
Sister Ravenousetta, assisted by the two nuns who had first met Plumpkins at the train station, secured him snugly upon the wooden fixture facing belly downward across the staves. They cinched with all their strength several broad, heavy-duty leather straps over his lard laden torso--blubbery lobes of fat bulging out between them--so suffocatingly tight as to deny him even the slightest of squirms.
By contrast, the chains shackling his wrists and ankles to each wooden leg were provided with enough slack to permit his pudgy limbs plenty of flailing room--so as to allow for some comically futile struggling to entertain the crowd. The enormous globular cheeks of his rotund buttocks were positioned up high, completely exposed and quivering defenselessly.
Sister Ravenousetta and her assisting nuns left the stage just as the audience began to file in. A chorus of enthusiastic oohs and aahs met Plumpkins’ ears as the spectators caught sight of his predicament. The various sisters, novitiates and guests all found their seats and eagerly tittered with anticipation. The bully girls were grouped right down in front and had an outstanding view.
The Inquisitrix Counsel then arrived and took their positions within a luxuriant viewing box behind and above the Inquisitrix Pulpit. Prioress Painette was accompanied by her fellow counsel members Mother Superior Sufferella and Abbess Aggonee. Grand Inquisitrix Dominique sat sternly amongst the Inquisitrix Counsel members, patiently waiting her turn. Plumpkins would soon be falling firmly into her and the Confessional Coven’s clutches--after the Welcoming Ceremony had run it’s course…
Applause rang out as Sister Ravenousetta and her assistants returned upon the stage, ready to administer Plumpkins’ welcome. They had traded their nun habits for torturess togs, resembling those of the mannequins in the Hall of Salivation--thigh high spiked heel boots topped by classic style widely flared black leather jodhpurs, and waist clinching leather bustiers with exposed cleavages spilling out to join bare shoulders and upper arms.
Their outfits were accessorized with leather gloves reaching high above the elbows and sinister spike bejeweled leather executionatrix cowls tightly covering the top half of their heads. Each had braided ponytails trailing behind, reaching far down their backs. It turns out that Sister Ravenousetta was a dark brunette, while her colleagues were strawberry blonde and dishwater blonde respectively.
One of the nuns carefully positioned a mirror on a small stand in front of Plumpkins’ direct line of sight, to provide him an excellent rearward view of the merciless assault about to rain down upon his hind quarters. Each nun then armed herself with a brine soaked rattan cane, which she conspicuously flexed and swung about to limber up for the impending festivity.
Sister Ravenousetta stood directly behind Plumpkins in direct alignment with his butt-crack, while her two companions took positions beside each buttock cheek. They all raised their canes high and held them poised overhead. At a signal from the Prioress, the cruel instruments were wielded down upon Plumpkins’ tender flesh with endless rapid fire full strength strokes!
A profuse crop of brilliant crimson welts erupted from his rump sides, while Sister Ravenousetta’s unerring aim landed wicked two handed blows exactly upon Plumpkins’ anus and taint--each time producing a high pitched scream from him that was a real crowd-pleaser!
Plumpkins’ arms and legs jangled his shackle chains with wild spasmodic gyrations, sounding like jingle-bells on a horse--much to the delight of the audience! The raucous cheers and rowdy hoots of the bully girls could be heard well above the voices of everyone else--they were having the absolute time of their young lives!
The torrent of torment didn't relent until Plumpkins’ entire backside had become one enormous blazing blister--only then did the Prioress nod with satisfaction that the sinner had been sufficiently welcomed. She turned to Grand Inquisitrix Dominique “The penitent is now at your disposal.”
The Grand Inquisitrix took her place at the pulpit. She stood in all her magnificent goddess like glory and glowered down at the sobbing Plumpkins without a trace of pity. “You have dared to defile a shrine of our most holy Saintress with your libidinous lascivious lechery! The traditions of our Order provide a fitting punishment for just such lustful lewdness as yours--The Kisses of Saintress Severina!” A slight nod of her beautifully formed chin was all it took to set the wheels of calamity into motion for poor Plumpkins .
The Confessional Coven emerged onto the stage clad in spectacularly fierce dungeon garb that looked absolutely demonic! Superbly tailored red leather catsuits that hugged every curve and tall red spiked heel boots--and everything sprouting sharp spiked studs from every possible square inch. Their full hood-masks, also red leather and stud bespiked, featured two very large spikes placed just like devil horns. It was as if the Grand Inquisitrix were a malevolent sorceress summoning up a squad of diabolic demonesses straight from the depths of Hell itself--all they lacked were bat-like wings and pointed tails!
A large wheeled cart loaded with various equipment and articles for torture--including an enormous iron cauldron brimming with glowing coals--was rolled on stage by their crew of assistant nuns, who then began pumping the embers with enormous bellows until they were bright orange.
The High Torturess pulled out a large cherry red branding iron shaped into two interlocking S’s standing for “Saintress Severena.” It was embellished with a dozen three inch long spikes projecting out from the face of the letters. She displayed it right up close to Plumpkins’ sobbing eyes, making him wince with a start from the sudden incandescent heat source. The iron lingered there before him, close enough to shrivel his eyelashes.
Plumpkins reflexively jerked away, then caught sight of the High Torturess smirking down at him. He suddenly stopped whimpering as cold terror gripped him--her eyes possessed a soulless inhumanity and cruel evilness exceeding anything ever possible even in his wildest nightmares!
He bellowed out a heart-rending “NOOOOO--PLEASE NOOOOO!!!” and struggled against his shackles with the frantic panic of a drowning swimmer. Satisfied by Plumpkins’ reaction, the High Torturess raised her heat wave shimmering toy and spat upon it--the glob instantly vaporized with a loud pop! She gave a soft chuckle and casually strolled next to his trembling left butt-cheek.
She carefully positioned herself so as to be able to watch Plumpkins’ face in the conveniently placed mirror and brought the torture utensil to bear--slowly. This was not going to be the quick singe of a cowpoke efficiently branding a steer--but a long lingering affair administered by someone who very much loved her job…
The smokey scent of roasting, delectably well marbled meat erupted as the branding iron’s spikes sizzled deeper, ever deeper, into Plumpkins’ vigorously spasming flesh--his melting fat formed streaming drips. Every fiber of his being emitted as loud and distressing a chorus of piercing screams as any creature suffering unendurable pain has ever managed to cry out in agony!
Only after the branding iron’s face had pressed against his skin long enough to ensure the S letter prints were well burnt-in, did the High Torturess relent and finally withdraw the still glowing implement. Plumpkins’ sobbing groans were drowned out by the audience rising from their seats to give a standing ovation as they admired the fresh, still smoking brand mark on him.
As everyone reseated themselves, a gasp of delight arose when they noticed the High Torturess’ apprentice removing an additional branding iron from the coals. It was fashioned similarly to the first, but in the shape of two interlocking D’s for “Daughters of Devourment.”
Plumpkins’ craned his neck to see what was happening and gave out a howl of horror when he saw! “NOOOOOOOO--NOOOOOOOO--NOOOOOOOO!!!” His arms and legs wildly gyrated in utter futility as the apprentice--grinning ear to ear--implacably approached with her awful appurtenance at the ready.
Sister Ravenousetta was standing on the stage’s sideline, next to where the bully girls were seated, casually resting her elbow atop the low surrounding wall as she watched. “Excellent application of torture theory!” She nodded her head approvingly and leaned closer to the youngest bully girl. “See how much more the sinner is terrified when he has already experienced a dose of an upcoming torture?”
This time, Plumpkins’ right buttock was the target as the young apprentice happily applied her tool of torment with the same loving care and artful skill as her mistress.
The combined pain of the previous branding and this new assault completely overwhelmed Plumpkins. Instead of screaming and struggling, he stretched his arms and legs out stiff like a squashed toad and gave the most pitiful, heartrending bawl of despair that ever resounded within the callous walls of a torture chamber.
The audience was both startled and delighted, erupting into boisterous cheering! The bully girls were rolling in the aisles, laughing till their sides hurt--but everyone’s joy suddenly turned to disappointment when Plumpkins wilted into a faint.
A stone-faced Grand Inquisitrix Dominique, who was still all business as she looked on unsmilingly during the proceedings, signaled one of the assistant nuns to place smelling salts under Plumpkins’ nose. He awoke with a sputtering gasp, regained full consciousness and wailed with renewed distress.
At this point, the Whip Mistress and her apprentice sauntered up to Plumpkins. Each held a heavy mace-and-chain flail, hefted with both hands. She proudly dangled her weapon before his bewildered eyes. It was a handcrafted affair of her own design, based on the Teutonic Kettenmorgenstern or “chain morning star.” Attached to the thick wooded handle were a half dozen thin chains with small spiked iron balls at the ends.
Plumpkins was utterly astonished--first that his punishment session wasn’t over, and second that such an outlandish implement was going to be employed to continue it! The two whipstresses strolled back next to his smoldering rump and took positions on each side to await the signal from the Grand Inquisitrix.
Stretching his head up as far as possible, Plumpkins managed to catch the eyes of Grand Inquisitrix Dominique. She looked like an avenging angel--glaring down at him in all her terrible beauty with hands firmly on her hips. He gave her a beseeching look--but she was in a punitive mood and completely unmoved. She then nodded for her minions to proceed…
To be continued…
