Paula Cheever is a policewoman taking part in a sting operation to catch prostitutes, but she is picked up by a religious order who are intent on cleaning up the streets. Immediately she realises they are very dangerous and that she must keep her identity a secret - but that means she must go through the Church's terrifying rituals of purification. And as she does so she meets the Patriarch - the man she must learn to call her Master if she is to survive.
This is THE book that made Silver Moon a recognised brand in the UK High St. bookstores when it first went into paperback. Now in 2015 the sequel Chains of Devotion has just been published by Fiction4All.
“She spoke out of turn twice and was willing to accept a beating just so long as I fucked her, Father.” The brother who had taken her last spoke again. There was general laughter which even Father Burton joined in with. He bent down and lifted her chin so that she looked up into his intense dark eyes. He looked at her for a long time and she felt he was looking right down into the depths of her soul where he could see how desperately she now wanted to be nothing.
“I think she understands,” he said finally, letting her go. “I will stay to see her beaten.”
“We thought the strap would do nicely Father.”
Paula heard Father Burton resume his seat while one of the brothers went to the cupboard again. She kept her eyes glued to the carpet until the brother came to stand right in front of her, a three foot, supple-looking leather strap hanging from one hand.
“Kneel up and then put your head down on the floor.” She did as she was told and knew what a sight she must be presenting to Father Burton. Her haunches stuck up into the air and between them the lips of her poor abused sex pouted towards him. He would probably be able to see how they were still full and open. In fact listening to the men discuss her had set her off again. And of course she was crusted with sperm from three men. As she moved she could feel it pulling at her skin, it must be caking her buttocks and inner thighs very obviously she thought. But then quite calmly she found herself thinking that they were bound to whip her there so the strap would probably get rid of it.
She pressed her forehead to the floor in front of the brother with the strap and folded her arms above her head. But that wasn’t good enough. He wanted them stretched wide apart. She obeyed and realised that this was a posture of complete submission in front of a man. And to add to the arousal which that thought set off, he placed a foot on the back of her neck.
“Give her four Brother,” Father Burton spoke.
The brother repeated her sentence to her adding, “And you’ll count them.”
Paula wished she could see herself. From where the brother was standing over her with the strap how tempting a target she must make. Her hips swelling out from her waist and the cleft of her buttocks giving him a perfect line to aim at in order to send the belt smacking down between her parted legs. She knew the pain would be excruciating and looked forward to suffering it in front of them to prove her submission.
She felt the brother’s weight shift on her neck as he raised the belt.
It made a loud swooshing noise in the air over her back and exploded all along the crease of her anus and that of her sex.
“Aagh!” She thought she had been ready but the weight of the leather and its width caught her totally by surprise. It didn’t single out any one part like a lash of a whip. It blasted the whole area. “One!” she managed to shriek.
Smack! “Oh God... Two!” She had to fight against the desire to shut her legs tight together. The second stroke had even reached right through and dug into the hair at her pubis.
Smack! “Aaah... Please! Three!” She didn’t know what she was begging for. Her fingers scrabbled at the carpet and her hips waggled desperately.
“Oh No!. . . I can’t . . “
Smack! “Aaah! God! Four! Please no more!” She cried and moaned under the brother’s foot. She was too tender and sore to repeat the orgasm of earlier, under the whip. But she balanced perfectly between the pleasure of abasing herself so utterly and the agony of the whipping. As soon as it stopped she wished it hadn’t.
The brother kept his foot on her neck while she writhed under it and Father Burton approached.
“I do not approve of profanity during a whipping. Bear that in mind next time Number Three.”
“I’m sorry Master!” Suddenly she was ashamed of the fuss she had made. Hadn’t these men taught her only today that this was her destiny, to be fucked or flogged and it didn’t matter which.
“I... I can take more if you want,” she stammered.
There was silence for a second. The foot came off her neck and Father Burton squatted down to lift her chin again. He stared intently at her once more. Paula struggled to blink back tears and meet his eyes.
“Your enthusiasm does you credit. But I think you’ve taken enough for one day.” He stood up, “However, there will be other days and perhaps I will take you up on that offer then.”
He turned and swept out.
Paula was hauled to her feet and helped back to her cell.