Chapter 7
Sister Grace suddenly awoke, not knowing where she was. Her eyes were open, but still there was not a sliver or trace of light anywhere that she could see.
She was in some room in the dungeon, deep underground.
Her face smelled of dried pussy juices, and, when she pushed herself erect on the rock floor, the core of her ass still ached. Her ass ring was almost raw from the terrible cornholing, and her belly ached. The nipple of her right tit still pounded where it had been torn, but the pain of the slash marks had died some from the cold.
The wall was cold and slimy, and she found a place that the water ran thinly toward the floor. There was algae there that was so thick that it stank, and the floor beneath her feet was slippery. She followed it in the dark until she ran solidly into another wall. She hadn't been able to see it at all, and she had been too preoccupied with the feel and the stink of the algae to even sense its nearness.
Her nose ached from where she had bashed it into the stone as she walked, and her free hand crept up to see if there was blood. There wasn't any in spite of its feeling broken.
Eight-nine-ten steps and her right hand found another wall. Perhaps in this one she would find the door.
On surer and drier ground now, Sister Grace stepped out, confident that her leading hand would keep her from trouble. But after fewer than ten steps, the wall at her side suddenly vanished, and she lurched out to try to find out where she was. Nothing. Both hands waved frantically in the air. One foot lifted as she tilted, then all of her balance was gone. It was as if she was tumbling and spinning in mid-air and she had no idea which direction was up or down.
Suddenly she felt as if she was falling, and she jerked back to the right. But when she thought she might be standing erect, she kept on falling down.
"Ummph!" The air blasted out of her lungs as she tumbled heavily to the stone floor.
Her right arm was pinned beneath her and bent so awkwardly that she thought it might be broken. Slivers of pain dashed to her shoulders as she twisted the arm free. She relaxed. Then she stiffened. She had no idea where she was.
Which way was the wall? she thought desperately, not realizing that one must lay in all directions. She needed to get back where she had fallen to keep the room set in her mind.
Using her toes, she scooted forward slightly, chafing her tits against the rough floor. Now she didn't even care about the torn nipple, so desperate she was to escape this place.
Grace whimpered in primordial fear. The fear felt like a wild animal trying to tear out of her belly and chest. And just when she thought she couldn't fight it any more, her fingers found vertical stone. Quickly she was on hands and knees, scampering to the wall as if it were safety and home.
But she had no idea whether she had returned to the same wall. Cautiously, she turned to the right and began feeling her way down the stone. Her shin cracked hard against something and she toppled forward, falling face down on the carved niche of a bench. This time there was no question of blood, for she could feel it run down her leg.
Four right turns at connecting corners and she found her way back to the bench. But she still hadn't found the door that she sought.
The way out of this blackness had to be through the wide fracture of the wall.
It took her only a minute to reach it, confident now that nothing was in the way.
She sat on the floor, feeling across the opening. About four feet of the wall was gone. Bracing herself on one side of the opening with a hand and on the other side with her feet, she lay on her stomach and reached in.
There was nothing there for her to either feel or see. If it was the only way out, she would just have to stand up and try it.
There was a slight uphill grade as she used her left hand to follow the corridor. The stone beneath her feet had given way to dirt. All of that encouraged her as she slowly crept along. If there was any freedom, it would lay upward and the dirt made her wonder if she was out from under the monastery.
Her hand found the wood of a door. A heavy metal handle was there and she found it in the darkness, leaning down onto it to try to force the door open. A heavy metal click sounded in the lock, but something else was barring her way. No matter how hard she pushed it, the door wouldn't open, and she remained caught sightless in the corridor.
"If someone is in there, please help me!" Sister Grace cried as she pounded on the face of the door.
A scraping sound came through from the other side of the portal, but no effort was made to open it and let her through.
"Please help me!" she pleaded, rubbing her hands over the old splintering wood.
Shards from the door bore into her skin, but Grace didn't even notice. One hand closed and slammed into a panel, and her fist exploded with pain. She groaned and gripped it in her other fingers and stumbled back across the dirty hall.
Then there was a loud bang in front of her, and the air pressure changed in the tunnel. She sensed something attacking her, and she threw her arms tightly around her body. She was hit like a linebacker hits a quarterback, and rammed back into the stone. The back of her head snapped painfully into the rock and she started sliding down. Hairy arms grabbed around her, and the creature clutched her close. Both of them hit the dirt of the floor, and Sister Grace was twisted onto her stomach.
"Oh, God!" she shrieked and scrambled to her hands and knees.
A heavy body threw itself against her as a long arm wrapped around her stomach. Calluses on the hands were raised from the knuckles and scraped against her skin. Long fingernails almost like talons sliced her flesh.
"Mary, Mother of God, what's happening!" she screamed, not knowing whether what had her was man or beast.
A hard cock was mashed into her cunt from behind, and felt as big as that of a horse. It penetrated her quickly and buried itself against the back of her cunt pit.
His hair-covered chest fell on her back, and the thing started to grunt and fuck. A leathery face with scratchy beard banged against her shoulder. She could smell the thing's rotting breath pouring over her shoulder against her cheek. She almost threw up from the fetid air, but the cock pounding in her cunt distracted her.
The cock wasn't even straight. It had such a bend in it that it scraped roughly against that side of her cunt walls when it was more than halfway in. Bumps along the shaft that felt like warts tortured the opening of her pussy.
The arm around her middle kept her suspended in place. The hard cock was hammering into her just like an animal would fuck her, or like some raging, raping demon from Hell. Sister Grace could only hope that her attacker was a man.
"Ung! Ung! Ung!" it growled as it thrust into her, beating bruises into the depths of her pit. Both hands lifted to rake at her tits, the long fingernails scratching away skin.
Sister Grace could almost feel the dirt of its body. The smell was atrocious, even worse than his breath.
"Don't fuck me!" she wailed, feeling as if she was being torn up inside.
The penetration of its knobby, warty, crooked cock was made even worse by her not being able to see who or what was plunging it home.
"Father in Heaven, take me!" she screamed, willing to die to get away from this thing.
But no miracle occurred to rescue the young nun, as she continued to be brutally fucked.
Claws tore at her tits, then rough palms cupped and covered the whole mounds. The nipples scraped against the calloused skin, and the cock drilled home once again. Wetness exploded into her cunt as cum burst through the raping prick. Again and again it pumped into her like it had been saved for decades for just this chance. Jism pumped out of her hole around the penetrating cock and ran down the backs of her legs.
A horse couldn't have shot more cum into her pussy, as it ran clear down to the floor.
Suddenly she was released. She slammed into the dirt of the floor. Again, her nose was smashed against her face, and this time started to bleed.
Her fall ripped her away from the cock. It popped out of her wet cunt with a wet fart. Then there was scurrying again, and the large wooden door slammed shut.
Tears streaked the dust on Sister Grace's face. She lay with her mouth and nose in the dirt of the floor. Her ragged breaths sucked grit into her teeth and across her dry tongue. Once again she prayed for deliverance, wanting to die rather than move.
After long minutes she pushed herself to her knees. The blood that had run had coagulated around the dirt on her flesh. Never had she felt so filthy, both inside and out.
She crawled over and felt along the black wall. She had to find the door to make sure she wasn't turned around and headed back to the cell. She found the wood, pushed herself wearily to her feet, and set off climbing the incline again.
The wall turned, went another twenty feet, then turned again. She was looking at a faint light. She realized that she was finally seeing at least a slight glimmer, and she began to hurry ahead.
Her hands burst through the blackened screen at the end of the tunnel and her body tumbled behind. Sister Grace emerged, with arms and legs flailing, from an opening at the top of the wall in the torture room of the dungeon. She was fifteen feet above the floor and twisting through the air on the way down.
But it was hot water that she found instead of stone as she plunged into a large open vat. Her head went under with her body and she gasped in hot water. The heat enveloped her and felt as if it was scalding her skin. She fought to the surface, then jammed her feet downward until she touched the bottom of the vat. The soles and the bottom of her toes burned at the metallic touch. There was a fire beneath the vat to heat the water.
She screamed, all of her skin turning red, even though the water wasn't hot enough to boil. Frantically she sought for a way out, then splashed over and hooked her arms over the rim of the vat. Slowly and painfully, she levered her way upward until she could look out into the dim room.
"I'm glad you could join us, Sister," Father Furst said sadistically, standing with his clenched fists driven into the tops of his hips. "The mother superior and I have just finished getting things ready for you."
Grace struggled to get out of the vat, but was too exhausted.
"Help me," she begged pitifully to the two robed figures.
"Oh, we'll get you out," Sister Beth said, a wicked smile twisting her lips. "There's too many things for you to still learn to let you just boil away."
Only the will to survive kept Sister Grace from sinking back into the hot water.
"And by the way," Father Furst finally added, "I hope you had a chance to say hello to Brother Sebastian on the way up. With all the decades he's spent down there in the darkness, I'm sure that he appreciated it."