As the last stroke of the midnight bell rang out, Veronique heard the boots of the guards approaching along the stone passage outside her cell.

They were coming for her at last.

She lifted her bare skin from the cold stone floor with relief. She had been lying face down for hours, arms spread and ankles crossed, her nude body forming a cross as she prayed.

She stretched herself and rubbed her hands brusquely over her body to stimulate her circulation, then bent for the rough sacking gown they had left her and hastily covered her chilled nakedness. Earlier her sisters had stripped her, then washed and shaved her head and body entirely, finally leaving her alone to pray and prepare for her coming ordeal.

They had taken her habit and other clothes away with them.

She slipped her arms through the wide sleeves of the rough gown, then reached behind to tie the strings which held the back of the gown closed, finally wrapping her own knotted rope scourge around her waist and pulling it tight, as she had been shown.

She made her last obeisance to the crucifix on the wall, then turned to face the door of her cell.

The guards stamped to a halt outside her door and the bolt slide quietly back. The door swung inwards and an elderly Nun stood there with a curious expression on her deeply lined face. The guards stood aside respectfully as the Nun entered.

"Are you ready, my dear?" she asked softly.

"Yes Sister, I am ready." said Veronique.

"Very well. Bless you child. May God go with you." She patted Veronique's hand. "We have done all we can to prepare you for your new role, the rest is up to you."

Veronique reflected on the extra scourgings she had been forced to endure since she had accepted the Bishop's invitation to this very special role, and assumed correctly that they were part of the preparation.

"There are still many things I cannot tell you," went on the older nun. "Many things you will learn as you go along, but be sure you are doing God's work, even though you may not understand it at the time."

The elderly sister embraced Veronique then stepped back, indicating with a sweep of her hand that Veronique should now take up her position ahead of the four guards.

She began to walk forward, her paces perfectly in time with the steadily tolling bell.

The guards were rewarded by regular glimpses of her naked legs and buttocks as the gown swung open slightly at each step. It was more naked female flesh than most of them had ever seen before, and the effect of the display rapidly became evident.

They had all rehearsed this moment many times, timing their paces to perfection, but always stopping at the door of the chapel, never entering.

And Veronique had always been fully dressed in her habit before.

They walked slowly and steadily, keeping time with the bell, along the stone corridor towards the open door at the far end. All four guards were fascinated and aroused by the view that the innocent young nun was unknowingly presenting to them. All four knew she was completely naked underneath the rough sacking gown.

There was a warm glow of candlelight in the small, secret chapel beyond the threshold. The steady chant of the assembled monks within grew louder as she approached. She resisted the urge to increase her speed and hurry to the glory of her new duties.

She had little idea, however, of the specific nature of these duties.

The Bishop had simply asked her if she was prepared to serve the secret order of monks in a special way.

To bring them God's peace in their arduous labours.

It was, he assured her, a role offered to few. An honour. She had been specially selected for this honour. It would be a pity to refuse it. The Archbishop himself had watched her and selected her.

She had barely been able to conceal her joy.

To serve above and beyond the daily routine of her calling, to be selected as somehow more worthy. But no, she must not think like that. She must take no pride in her selection. It was God's will, no more. She must remain humble and obedient, merely a tool in God's great works.

She paused on the threshold of the chapel for one beat of the bell, then continued her measured pace alone. The guards were not permitted to enter the chapel this day. The massive doors slammed shut behind her.

Before her she saw the altar rail at which she must stop.

Beyond it, standing before the altar in a semi-circle, were the other five nuns who served here. She was to make up the six, replacing one who's service had ended.

Veronique was amazed to see that each of her new sisters was fully clad in a strange, plain dark red habit which she did not recognise, and all five wore their hair long and free.

No head covering and long hair were something totally alien to Veronique. Her own head, like the rest of her body, was completely shaven.

Each sister held a length of pure white rope coiled in her hands.

On either side of her the pews were filled with monks, kneeling and chanting in time with the bell. Their heads were covered and there was no sign of rank. All wore exactly the same deep red robes. Unusually, their hoods were raised and their faces hidden.

Before the altar rail there was another rail which blocked the aisle. A sturdy, flat topped rail at waist height.

As Veronique passed the halfway mark the chanting increased in volume and intensity. Veronique was completely caught up in the occasion. The honour they did her with this special service was overwhelming. She felt special, though she knew she shouldn't.

She took the last step on her short but momentous journey. She had timed it to perfection, stopping on the stroke of the bell with her flat stomach just touching the first rail.

The chanting stopped.

The bell continued.

A high tenor voice sang a line in a language Veronique didn't understand. Her five new sisters stepped forward. Two stood either side of her, one took a position behind.

Another line rang out from the tenor.

Her arms were gently but firmly extended, while the nun behind her began to push her forward, bending her over the first rail. Bending with her, her sister used her own body to force Veronique's body downwards until Veronique's chest was resting on the actual altar rail, her head beyond it and her breasts hanging free, her nipples brushing the scratchy sackcloth as she breathed.

Her head and chest, and her freely hanging breasts, invaded the holy space usually only entered by Priests.

She could hear the nun holding her down whispering prayers as the other four began binding her arms to the altar rail. They began at her shoulders and steadily worked outwards, lacing her arms to the altar rail, rendering them totally immoveable. They left her hands free to move, then turned their attentions to her ankles. Without haste, her four new sisters spread her ankles wide and roped them securely to the legs of the rail over which she was now bent helplessly.