The bugler stood alone, his instrument to his lips as he fought back the emotions of
a bloody year to play the last post. Before him stood the mighty pillar of the Cenotaph.
Assembled royalty, government, military forces and the general public all stood in respect
and in total silence as the eerie sound echoed around the square. It was the eleventh of
November.
“They’re playing the last post,” said Charles.
“I know, I can hear it,” said Rachael from the bedroom. “When are you going to untie
me?”
“When you have learned your lesson.”
“Sorry, Master Charles, I really do mean I am sorry. Now, will you let me out of
this fucking thing?”
“Not yet. Oh that’s good media stuff. The camera has just panned across the general
public and there is a little boy there who is crying.”
“Look, will you let me out of this fucking contraption? I am a Master too, and I
have certain rights.”
“No. You have a certain duty as the first ever female Master of The Iscarions to
lead your fellow sisters into the path of release, and to do that you have to subjugate
yourself to me, the leader of The Iscarions. When this ceremony is over I will come and
see to you.”
“But I wanted to watch it.”
“I know. The point of stopping you from seeing it is to make you more earnestly
desire to reach the goal of your life.”
“You mean – release?”
“Exactly. Now, not another word for fifteen minutes.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, the credits for the Cenotaph transmission started to run and
Charles stood up. He picked up the flogger that had been sitting on the sofa beside him,
stretched his naked body and looked for a moment at his erection – a state of arousal
brought on by the knowledge of what was waiting for him in the bedroom.
He entered the bedroom and smiled wickedly at Rachael. Rachael had spent the last
hour strapped to a cross. Not a cross like the one they supposedly crucified the founder
of the Christian church on but a cross in the shape of an “X”. The bottom legs of the “X”
were secured with brackets to a base that stood on the bedroom floor. Rachael was totally
naked and strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross. Her legs were splayed wide apart leaving her
shaved sex open and exposed. Here arms were tied to the upper cross arms, leaving her
totally vulnerable. Her breasts looked pink and her nipples rosy and stiff, the results of
her earlier flogging at the hand of her lover and Master, Charles.
“Shall I call Hendon in to help me?” Said Charles as he entered the room.
“No, no, no.” Rachael’s eyes were wide.
“Then I will flog you myself,” said Charles. With that he played the flogger up the
inside of Rachael’s legs, making her gasp with anticipation. When the flogger started to
stroke her sex, Rachael groaned. As Charles started to whip her sex with the straps of the
flogger, Rachael groaned more loudly, then she arched her back as the orgasm approached
and then, with a loud gasp, she squirted her ejaculation onto the mat beneath the cross.
“Oh God, that is so good!” She cried out as Charles continued to play the flogger
directly onto her swollen, sensitive labia. “Ah, oooh, oh yes, harder, harder, please
harder,” she pleaded as her body responded with intense arousal to the flogging. When the
straps caressed her clitoris she arched her back again and a further squirt of liquid shot
out of her body.
“Oh, by God, that is sooooooooooo EXCELLENT!” Rachael screamed as she climaxed
again.
“Now,” said Charles, “it is time to really punish you for disobeying me. I told you
not to go and look for the chest on your own and you disobeyed me. I knew you would.”
“Yes, Charles, I’m sorry.” Said Rachael as her orgasm subsided. “It was stupid, and
I’m sorry.”
“You could have placed the whole of The Iscarions in jeopardy by doing what you
did.”
“I know, but I was careful to make sure I wasn’t followed and it was pitch dark
apart from the moon.”
“We have fucked up on tracks and hills like the one you went to, so who says another
couple weren’t doing likewise? Also, you were followed and watched, by Peter. Thank God at
least he is on our side. What if some priest or catholic henchman had followed you? You’d
be dead and the evidence taken once for all time. And, for all we know the contents of the
chest could be much more than what we think they are. We have a security protocol handed
down through the ages and one that Javier, before his untimely demise, instilled into me.
There is no excuse for what you tried to do.”
“I know, but I really did look round and there was no one.”
“Apart from Peter, who stayed well back and just kept an eye on you. The point is
you disobeyed me and you have to be punished. Have you opened it yet? How did you know it
was where it was? That was not the place where we went before?”
“I know. I found a map with a letter that told me to trust no one but to go and
search for the casket on my own. And in answer to your question, no I haven’t opened it
yet, but it matches the description in the docket I got from Javier’s bank deposit box and
it was at exactly the right co-ordinates, so it HAS to be the evidence we have searched
for.”
“Yes, probably, but until you have been properly punished I have no intention of
letting Hendon or anyone else examine it.”
The box stood on the floor not four feet in front of Rachael. It was a smallish box
with a semi-circular shaped lid that fastened to the box with clips and a couple of fairly
heavy padlocks.
“What I don’t understand is how you managed to get it back here on your own.”
“I didn’t,” said Rachael, biting her lip suddenly as her secret was out.
“Who helped you then?”
“I took Dawn with me. She was around and I needed an extra pair of hands.”
“Peter didn’t mention there were two of you. Does she KNOW what this IS?” Charles
raised his voice in anger. Actually he was pissed off that he hadn’t been in on the
excavation and present at the dig to make the decisions. He’d spent the afternoon and
evening in a meeting and training a couple of the noviciates. So he knew he only had
himself to blame, but Rachael had broken the rules. Thank God for Master Peter, not that
Charles believed in God any more. At least the man’s own initiative had made things a
little safer; or so it seemed.
“No, she just thinks it is another one of our tests as sisters and she was only too
glad when I told her it would help her on her path of discovery.”
“We will hold a meeting of the whole order next Thursday to open this chest and see
what is inside. At the same meeting you and Dawn will be suitably chastised for your
disobedience. Having said that, if you are right then we are looking at the casket that
contains the final proof that the Catholic Church and Christianity have lied for over two
millennia. Now, how shall I conclude your punishment?”
Charles scratched his head for a moment.
“I think we will wait for the order meeting. Now, I am going to let you off this
contraption and as a thank-you for being so lenient to you, you will make sure I am
satisfied before we go and have lunch.”
Ten minutes later, Charles lay on the bed and Rachael, having already sucked his
cock with great desire, straddled him as she raised and then lowered her sex on his rigid
phallus. As she did so, he kneaded her breasts, two pink orbs that had been flogged
straight after he had tied her to the “X” an hour or more earlier.
After five minutes of riding her Master, Rachael felt his cock twitch deep in her
body, and as Charles groaned, she felt the warm jet of semen as it squirted five times
into her.
When Charles had stopped groaning and putting any effort into his orgasm, Rachael
climbed off him and tenderly sucked his cock until it was devoid of any residual semen.
“I wish I was a vampire,” she said as they lay beside each other.
“Why?”
“Oh, I like the taste of a man,” she laughed.
“But vampires like blood, and you’ve never tasted any of my blood.”
“Do they?” She asked quizzically.
“Yes, of course they do, everyone knows that blood is what gives a vampire its life
force.”
“Ah, but everyone also knows Jesus Christ died on the cross for the salvation of
mankind, don’t they? Except, we know different and we are about to prove it.”
“Fair enough but that doesn’t alter the facts about vampires.”
“Ever read Dracula?”
“Yes, a long time ago.”
“Well read it again. The life force for a female vampire is not blood but semen, and
lots of it,” said Rachael with a dead serious expression on her face.
“You’re having me on?” Charles turned to face her.
“No I’m not. Obviously in the Victorian era of Bram Stoker, they could not mention
such things so everyone assumed it is blood, but if you read the work closely you will
find out it is semen.”
“Okay, I’ll read it again, but I’ll bet you’re wrong.”
“I’m not,” said Rachael. “Just like you are not wrong in believing the sacred
evidence is in that chest and it is going to destroy a lot of people’s belief systems.”
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