The Abbey Farm Curse. Ch. 10.

The Abbey Farm Curse

Chapter Ten.

June and I made love, and I do mean made love, long into the night, with the result that we were late up. We didn't mind, we lazed around for the rest of the morning, ate an easy lunch of left over pasta and salad, and generally behaved like the couple of young lovers that we had already become. It's strange, isn't it; how sometimes two people can click together immediately they meet? I suppose it's the proverbial love at first sight, even though we first met in such bizarre circumstances. We were due at the farm for dinner, and we were so relaxed and easy going that we were almost late, but we managed to arrive precisely as the food was being served and I was able to introduce June to Angie and Willow as we all sat down for what I didn't expect would be an easy meal. A couple of glasses of wine helped break the ice, as did some nondescript and inconsequential chatter, but we knew that eventually we'd need to broach 'that' subject. It was a case of who would find an easy way to do it first.

'You know.' Began Angie, looking up abruptly. 'You're not at all what I thought an historian would be like, so I think we can talk to you.'

June smiled and nodded. 'Good. I was hoping you could.' She hesitated and then went on. 'I don't know if Gary's told you, but I know at first-hand what the abbey can do, and so, I believe, do you?' It was said as a question, intent on drawing Angie out.

Angie was still a little reticent. 'We know strange things happen here, is that what you mean?'

'Yes, the abbey makes you want to do things you wouldn't dream of anywhere else. Has it happened to you?'

'You know about that from your own experience?'

Willow snorted with exasperation. 'Look, will you two stop fencing? The point is.' She looked at June. 'We need to know that if we talk openly to you about what has happened we won't end up in the tabloid press. So if you tell us what it made you do, then we'll feel much happier about being frank with you.'

'Gary hasn't said anything to you?' June asked, diplomatically omitting to say I'd already been as frank with her as it was possible to be.

'No, he said you told him things in confidence and so he can't. So you tell us. We don't need details, but we need to know we're on the same wavelength.'

June looked thoughtful for a minute, then. 'All right.'

She took a deep breath. 'If I say to you that in one of the rooms upstairs in this house I've shared a double ended dildo with a woman while at the same time sucking her partner off, will it ease your minds?'

I'd watched and listened quietly, but I couldn't help exclaiming. 'You didn't tell me about that!'

'I can't tell you everything at once, can I?' June smiled a little bashfully. 'You know what this place is like, so don't imagine it was something I'd have done normally, but then, because of where it was I'm not ashamed of it either.'

'What's it like?' Asked Willow unexpectedly.

'What?'

'Sharing a dildo.'

'Good. Try it sometime if you're into girls.'

My cock was beginning to unfurl at a thought flitting through my mind, the thought of June and Willow together. Bizarrely, jealousy didn't come into it.

'She is,' Angie told June. 'And she's good at it, too.'

The comment brought a blush to Willow's cheeks and a giggle from June.

'Before we get side-tracked...'

I thought it was time to bring the conversation back to the subject in hand, and we spent the next hour with the girls telling June their take on what had happened. Once again she was the master of diplomacy, asking occasional questions, looking amazed at some things they said and nodding sagely at others, and never mentioning that she already knew most of what she was being told. Then, when we stopped talking she gazed at her shoes for a little while before starting to speak in her turn. We were all soon as relieved as I was at her non-judgemental attitude and, as we had hoped, her outsider's view brought a certain amount of clarity to things.

'It seems to me that the important people here are you and Gary,' she told Angie. 'Because nothing happens except when you're both there, and apart from the episode by the pool, nothing seems to happen unless you both climax. I don't know why, but it appears your orgasms opened the first window, although because it's still only happened a couple of times that might yet be coincidental, especially after what happened by that pool.'

She paused for a moment and Willow butted in.

'If it's just Gary and Angie who matter, then why do I feel so damn randy all the time?'

June nodded her understanding. 'It seems that everybody who has ever lived here has felt like that, and people like me who've just spent time here. I think you're just experiencing that, but Gary and Angie together seem to have a special influence here, that's why the time windows.'

'That makes sort of sense,' Willow agreed, 'and it's not an easy power to defy. In fact we think that episode by the pool was the answer to us resisting it the night before, so if that's the case it's certainly not all coincidental.'

They hadn't said anything about that to me, so obviously the girls been talking while I was away and coming to much the same conclusions as I had.

'Okay, then presuming it isn't a coincidence,' June went on, 'and I don't think it is either, then for some reason the abbey, or rather the land it's built on, is trying to tell the two of you something, but I don't know what that might be. It does seem that you're significant to it in some particular way. I do think that the site was probably originally dedicated to some ancient fertility deity, but somewhere along the way something happened to turn it from promoting natural pleasure and fertility to promoting gratification and depravity. I'd like to think you were shown the couple by the pool as proof that the site wasn't always so distorted, and the Celtic threesome as proof that sex was once fun here too. I sense that some kind of presence here wants to return it to that more innocent state. Maybe it thinks you and Gary are the ones who can do that, though I haven't a clue about why - or how.'

We all sat silently for a few minutes as everybody tried to absorb what we'd been told. Incredible as it might have sounded, it clearly made sense and wasn't far from what we had thought ourselves.

'So what shall we do?' asked Angie. 'I mean, how do we get to the bottom of it?'

'I don't know, but that pool seems significant, your second vision there probably came from about three thousand years ago when it was clearly venerated by the people who lived then.'

'Three thousand years?' Breathed Angie, incredulously.

'Yes, late Bronze Age. But it could be later, say two to two and a half thousand. That would be in the Iron Age, but they didn't stop making bronze simply because they discovered iron you know.'

'What about the other scene?' Willow asked her.

'That was almost certainly Iron Age, and Gary was probably right when he guessed it was about the time of the Roman invasion.'

'Why do you think it would be religiously important?' I asked her.

'I don't know, I've never seen it, and I've never looked properly at that patch of weeds where it was. Can we go and take a look at it?'

'Well, yes if it will help.'

'The truth is Gary,' she shrugged, 'that I don't know what will help, but it can't hurt, can it?'

'Unless it decides to give you a first-hand look at how it was in the Bronze Age.' Angie told her. 'That might help.'

There was a hint of derision in her tone, as if to say I don't need a lecture, I need a result. I was about to say something, but June ignored the sarcasm and answered seriously.

'I wouldn't mind that happening,' she responded, 'At least I'd know what you mean then, and yes, it might help.'

It was time to change tack. 'Come on then, let's go and take a look.'

We all trooped out into a lovely warm late spring evening, silent apart from nature's noises, and made our way over to where we had been before. Now we knew its origin, the unusual hollow was obviously the remains of a dried up pool, and I couldn't help but wonder if, somewhere under the nettles and weeds growing at its centre there lay still buried a beautiful bronze sword. The more mercenary part of my brain tucked the thought away for the future.

'Well, I can guess why the pool was special to the people of the Bronze Age,' June commented when she got there. 'I'd not thought of it before, but how many pools do you know that occur naturally at the top of a hill?'

'I can't think of any, apart from this one,' I answered. Strictly speaking it wasn't exactly at the top, but near enough.

'Exactly. They're not unknown, but they're rare. Most pools are formed at the bottom of hills by run-off, but you do get one or two that are fed by a spring or by a geological fault, and then they can be wherever the fault comes to the surface. This must be one, and I'd guess that alone would make it take on magical significance in ancient times.'

'But what meaning would its position near the church have?' Willow asked.

'Well, none directly. I would hazard a guess that the end of the ridge became endowed with religious importance and was looked on as a holy site in Bronze Age religion because of a sacred pool being here. Don't forget those standing stones you saw, with that grove planted around them. They would be there for a long time, until Christianity arrived probably, and Christianity often simply took over older sacred sites that it came across and turned them to its own use.

'That's it!' I exclaimed slamming the heel of my hand against my forehead.

'What is?' Angie asked the question for the three startled faces that gazed at me in consternation.

'Come on, I want to show you something.'

Without waiting I stood up and marched off towards the church ruin, eager to check on the thought that had jumped into my mind. There had been something about the pagan altar that had worried me when I'd seen it, and now I thought I knew what it was.

'Where are we going?' June asked, trotting to keep up.

'I want to look at something in the church.'

'Is that safe?' asked Willow, coming up alongside me.

'We'll soon find out.' Angie answered for her as we reached the empty doorway. 'What is it anyway?'

I walked across to the oversized altar and bent down to examine the stonework, immediately seeing what I suspected was true.

'You remember the grove with standing stones we saw in the Iron Age? The one June was just on about?'

'Yes.' Willow looked vaguely intrigued.

'Well come and look at this. Part of it is still here.'

All three followed me a little reluctantly and looked to where I was pointing.

'What?' asked Angie.

'Look at this altar. You remember the altar stone we saw in the Iron Age? Well it's still here, hidden inside the Christian one. I wonder why?'

I pointed to where some of the carvings had crumbled away at one corner, revealing how a thin skin of new stonework covering the ancient massive Druidic altar.

'So it is!' exclaimed June. 'That might be important. It might be the reason why this place is so sexually charged. In fact, more than might be, I'll lay odds on it.'

'You make it sound like a bloody battery,' Complained Angie, 'and anyway, that doesn't account for my bedroom.'

'Maybe not, but she could still be right,' Willow told Angie, 'and maybe it is a kind of battery, a battery storing sexual energy.'

'Okay, so why don't we sit ourselves down here then? If it is charged up that's bound to start something off, especially if you and I sit together.' Angie was looking at me as she spoke.

My first thought was of June, but she was nodding her encouragement.

'Yes, okay, why not?' I told her, heading for what was left of the north wall, figuring to sit in the day's fading sunlight. 'But we're not going to get horny with each other.'

'No, I don't expect us to,' She came to sit beside me. 'We'll just sit here and let the church do the rest.'

'If it wants to,' Willow put in, folding her long legs and placing herself elegantly alongside Angie.

'Yeah,' I agreed. 'We're not in charge of anything really, are we?'

June sat quietly down beside me and took my hand. I could feel her trembling slightly and her hand held mine just a little too hard.

'You all right?' I asked her.

'Yes, I'm fine.' She looked sheepishly at me with a self-conscious smile. 'I want something to happen, but I'm scared silly that it will.'

'Don't worry.' I squeezed her hand reassuringly. 'Probably nothing will, but even if it does it's more exciting than scary.'

She nodded her understanding and we all lapsed into silent waiting, wondering if we were all being silly waiting for something that wasn't going to happen and half hoping that it wouldn't anyway. For the next few minutes nothing happened except that June's grip on my hand loosened gradually and soon we were coming to the conclusion that the abbey wasn't going to play ball this time.

'How long are we going to sit here?' Angie asked, the impatience of youth showing through.

'Getting bored?' I asked her with a teasing smile.

'No, getting stiff.' She suddenly giggled. 'Although that's usually your problem when this place gets started, isn't it? Not that I going to complain about it, you understand, especially when the results are so nice.'

I was going to refute her observations, wondering how she could speak like that with June next to me, but the last few words of her remark had come as if from a distance. The sounds of nature surrounding us faded, our vision started to close and I realised we were on our way into the past once more. The bloody place must have been listening to us.

'Hang on June, stay with us, this is it.'

I just had time to caution her as my vision collapsed in on itself and the usual soft white noise overwhelmed my hearing. As I went under I hoped she had heard and understood my hasty warning.

We had begun in the ruined church and that's where we came to, except it was no longer derelict. We were still in a group but now by the south wall of the nave, and what a difference. Our vision cleared to find us standing in a blaze of candlelight surrounded by rich and glorious tapestries and gleaming woodwork. This was the church in its heyday, when the abbey had attracted the wealth of many patrons and wielded power over nearly half of Shropshire.

Apart from June, we'd all travelled back before and so we kind of knew what to expect, but to find ourselves suddenly standing in such a holy setting was very disconcerting. After a minute or so we began to get our collective nerve back and we stood staring about us at the former magnificence of what we only knew as broken down walls and a pile of old stonework, and I was glad to see that for all her earlier nervousness June was gazing about her with profound fascination and no sign of fear.

'My god, isn't it lovely?' Her voice carried a note of awe as she whispered her admiration for the old church. 'Just look at that carved screen, and all those wonderful paintings.'

The walls were covered in brightly coloured pictures depicting scenes from the scriptures, reminders of the rewards and retributions promised in the Bible. June was gazing around her now with eyes as shiny as a child's, pointing out the details that caught her attention. The fact of being transhipped centuries into the past hadn't fazed her at all, but then, she is an historian I suppose, if only in an amateur sense. I wondered fleetingly what a professional historian or archaeologist would give to have the same experience.

'Aren't they wonderful? There would have been no excuse for being bad then, with the penalty up on the wall in front of you every time you stood listening to a sermon. There's no pews you see, the congregation used to stand in those days -- or is it 'these days'?' She grinned happily at her own confusion. 'The only seats are those misericords in the chancel, and they're only for the monks to rest their bottoms on during night services.'

She was pointing through the rood screen to what looked like choir stalls with fold down wooden seats, each tipped back seat with a wooden lip at the front so that a monk might lean his behind on it while still standing for the service.

The screen door was open, but directly before it stood a large and heavy oak table, with a thickly embroidered altar cloth laid over its centre and two big brass candlesticks standing at each end with lighted candles in each. It was while we were looking at this that Willow suddenly noticed distant movement in front of the high altar.

'Look! We're not alone after all.' She pointed to the figure of a man in sumptuous and heavily embroidered ecclesiastical robes standing with his head bowed before the altar.

'I didn't think we would be.' Angie answered, still whispering automatically. 'We always get shown sex acts, and they're bloody difficult to do when nobody is there.'

'Alright, smarty pants,' I told her, chuckling at her scornful observation.

'Is it always like this?' Asked June. 'Not the banter. I mean, do you always find yourself on the side-lines?'

I hadn't thought of it before, but that was how it was. We were like so many spectators at a sports event, always watching, never participating. But that's how it had to be if our presence was purely transient.

'Pretty much,' I told her, 'we can't be seen, we can't change anything, and we can't interact with anyone 'cos we're not really here!'

'That's a bloody shame, isn't it?' Angie grinned lasciviously. 'It'd be good to find out if anything has changed sex-wise.'

That idea caught me on the hop. I thought I was pretty broadminded, but I'd never even considered that idea. But then again, three modern day women are quite enough -- if I ever get to bed Willow, that is.

'Angie!' I exclaimed, shocked by her suggestion.'

'So, who is that by the altar?' Angie asked, ignoring me and speaking to nobody in particular.

'I'm not sure,' June answered her. 'I'm not up on medieval vestments, but looking at those I'd guess he's pretty high up, and he's certainly not a monk, that is for sure. Probably a something like a bishop I would think.'

As she said that, the 'bishop' came forward through the door from the chancel to stand in the nave in front of the massive oak table, facing down the body of the church. Then he picked up a small bell that stood by one of the candlesticks and rang it, holding it high and putting on a rather severe and imperious look.

At his ring the door at the end of the church opened and four people stepped through, one tall elegantly dressed woman of around fifty years of age, and three young monks in brown habits acting as an escort, one either side of the woman and one walking behind. The last one carrying a bag made from sacking. They walked slowly forward across in front of us to about six feet from the table where they all stopped, the woman directly in front of the Bishop.

The woman spoke. 'I have come in answer to your summons, my Lord Bishop.'

So June was right, he was a bishop.

'Thank you Countess, but you had little choice having publicly admitted fornication with Sir Edmund.' The Bishop regarded her coldly.

'My god,' June exclaimed, whispering excitedly. 'She's the wife of an Earl. I wonder which one?'

'Countess, do you repent your sins and seek chastisement in order that you may be absolved?'

'I do, my lord, I am ready to accept your judgment.'

'Brother Mark and Brother Simon, make the Countess ready. Brother Edgar, prepare to administer punishment.'

We all stood at the side of the church looking in amazement at the scene unfolding before us. We knew, or I did at least, that the religious courts dealt with breaches of moral law instead of the King's Courts, but I don't think any of us, June included, thought punishment was meted out quite so summarily.

'I wonder what her sentence is,' Angie remarked, her eyes pinned to the five people around the table. We were soon to see.

One of the two monks who had entered beside her now moved to stand in front of her and began to unfasten her gown. Don't ask me to describe it, I wouldn't know a wimple from a kirtle, but I can say that it was deep red, full length, with full sleeves and was trimmed with white fur. She stood quietly and submissively, allowing him to undo what appeared to be some kind of small buttons down the front, until eventually it was open from top to bottom. The other monk of the two now took a hold on her collar and without more ado pulled it backwards and down, disrobing her instantly. She had been naked underneath it and now stood totally unclothed before the four men.

Taking an arm each the monks now walked her to the table until she stood with the top of her thighs pressed against it. She waited passively now while the pair walked around the table, leaning forward and holding out her hands to them so they could hold her from the other side, a move they followed through with so she ended standing bent at the waist face down on the table with her arms stretched out to each side. There they stood patiently holding the Countess prone over the table ready for her punishment.

It must be said that the Countess was extremely beautiful for her years. Yes, her hair was streaked with grey, but it was full and wavy with the sheen of good health, and her skin was likewise quite smooth and free of most of the blemishes and wrinkles of advancing years. I was surprised at her looks, having always thought of medieval centuries as being times of short and brutal lives with sickness and chronic poor health leaving bodies marked from a much earlier age than hers. She was a picture of vitality, a woman with an excellent figure, even if her belly wasn't quite washboard flat and her breasts did sit lower than they once must have. Even bent over in such an unbecoming position she was attractive. Let me put it this way -- I wouldn't have said no!

Meanwhile, during the time the two monks had spent bending the Countess over the table and the time I had spent ogling her, the third monk, Brother Edgar, was busy untangling a leather whip from his bag. This was not of a long bull whip type, nor was it quite a cat-o-nine-tails, for although it was of about the same length it had three thongs only. A whipping before the altar was clearly to be her penalty.

'My god,' Angie gasped. 'They're not actually going to do it, are they?'

'Oh yes, whipping for adultery or fornication was quite usual for convicted women,' June told her, 'but men usually got away with a reprimand because the church believed it was always the women who tempted the men.'

'You may begin.' The Bishop nodded in the direction of Brother Edgar.

Brother Edgar drew back his arm and the whip described a rapid arc before the three tails struck the Countess's back with a distinct thwack. The Countess gasped with the sudden pain.

Our group stood and watched silently as the whip rose and fell, first from one angle and then the other so her back and shoulders became crisscrossed with marks where the whip had fallen. The brother wasn't perhaps using all his strength in the strokes, but he was not holding back too much either. This was no token beating to follow the letter of the law, it was a proper chastisement and it was intended to hurt, regardless of his victim's rank. The Countess was pinned to the table by her two outstretched arms, but she was soon crying out at each stroke and twisting herself back and forth under the restraint, wriggling from the pain. At first she tried to stifle her cries, but with each stroke her gasps and cries became louder and less controlled until at last she was yelling in real anguish.

We looked on, brought to silence by the spectacle, wondering how long the flogging would last as nobody seemed to be counting the strokes, and concerned that the Countess might suffer real damage. Perhaps the brother was not entirely unaware of the possibility, for soon after he switched his attentions to her bottom, whipping her buttocks in the same crisscross manner.

'I didn't think they whipped people's bums!' exclaimed Willow in surprise.

'Nor did I, but they obviously did,' June remarked in answer.

The whip now fell rhythmically on each globe of the Countess's backside, making her yell and writhe at each stroke, gyrating her hips in an almost sensuous manner to try and get some relief for her tormented behind. We felt for her, suffering the punishment and humiliation of a very brutal age before our very modern eyes, but then it was Angie who first realised that not all was as it seemed.

'Look at her!' she exclaimed suddenly, 'she's getting turned on.'

Up until that point I don't think anybody else had looked at the scene in a sexual context, but now Angie had made the connection we could all see that the slow erotic rotations of the Countess's bottom were not primarily caused by pain, but by arousal. The woman was being stimulated by her flogging.

'My goodness!' exclaimed June, 'so it's just a put up job. It's nothing more than sadomasochistic role play. I should have realised.'

'Well, it certainly had me fooled,' I commented, 'and she certainly likes to play hard, look at her bottom!'

Her gentile bottom was now also glowing bright pink, crisscrossed with the darker red stripes caused by the whip and still Brother Edgar was laying on with a will. She must have been suffering genuine pain, even if it was an enjoyable pain.

At that moment, as if in answer to our thoughts, the Countess began to cry, deep sobs of hurt and humiliation punctuated by sharp cries of pain each time the whip landed. Tears began running down her face, streaking her cheeks with wet lines and making her eyes red and shiny. But all the time she swivelled her hips lasciviously, clearly enjoying and encouraging her tormentor's efforts.

'Christ. I'm not sure I can watch this,' Willow whispered to me.

'If it's too much for you, remember she wants it,' I replied, equally quietly.

'It's not that,' she told me, 'I'm worried because I'm getting fucking hot from just watching. Watching this is turning me on too.'

I looked at her dumbfounded.

'Yes, I know it's kinky, but it's turning me on rotten. Will you do it to me sometime?' She was still whispering, not wanting the others to hear her confession.

'If that's what you want,' I whispered back, conscious that my cock was beginning to raise its head again at the startling prospect of getting that close to Willow. I'm certainly not a devotee of S & M, but I couldn't help thinking that if it would get me into Willow's.... You know what I mean. The abbey was at work again.

'I do, but be gentle please; I don't know how much I can take, but it won't be very much.'

At that point our attention was drawn back to the scene before us by the Bishop, who having stood silently and unmoving in front of the table now put up his hand to stop the whipping.

'Countess. Now we have scourged the demon from your soul it is time to cleanse your body,' he told her sternly, 'we will now purify your openings with our own holy bodies. This will help prevent a return of your temptation. Please be mindful that we do not undertake this task lightly.'

The Countess was still lying face down across the table, sobbing from the flogging she had endured, but she looked up and thanked him tearfully.

'My Lord Bishop, I am truly grateful for your endeavours on my behalf.'

He moved closer to the table then reached down and lifted the hem of his vestments, bundling them up as he went until he stood naked below the waist, his cock standing out before him. She must have expected this, for she pushed her head out forward and opened her mouth ready to receive him. He stepped closer still and her lips closed around the head of his cock.

It would be wrong to say the Countess gave the Bishop a blow job, for that would imply movement on her part. Instead, still held down by the arms, she passively accepted his cock, keeping her head still as he fucked her mouth, thrusting in and out of her waiting lips with one hand entwined in her hair as if to guarantee her submission and the other holding his robes out of the way. At the same time behind her Brother Edgar had laid down his whip and stripped off his own monkish garb to stand completely naked, obviously waiting for his superior's permission before doing anything else. The Bishop nodded to him through half closed eyes and the monk moved forward in his turn to present his cock to her pussy from behind.

If there had been any doubt about the Countess's arousal, they were instantly dispelled as the monk entered her. He held her hips, but his cock slid deeply into her with no effort at all, and as he began to fuck her we could all clearly hear the wet sounds of one very slippery pussy.

She was now being well fucked from both ends, the two men gaining some kind of synchronization as they plunged into her, but it wasn't long before the Bishop began to lose his rhythm, pushing in out of her more and more erratically as his conclusion got nearer. He still had one hand gripping her head and he used that grip to steady himself, pulling on her hair as she swayed back and forth under the influence of his growing climax. Finally, as his climax struck he simply grabbed at her, thrust his cock as far into her mouth as he could, and let his balls empty into her throat, groaning and grunting all the time. There was no finesse about him, he simply came into her mouth, released her hair, pulled his softening cock from between her lips and turned away, allowing his vestments to fall into place of their own accord as he stumbled away jelly-legged to lean against the rood screen.

The two monks still holding the Countess's arms must have taken this as some form of signal, because they both now released her and disrobed, walking naked around the table and standing beside Brother Edgar, apparently to await their turn to fuck the Countess. Without the Bishop completing the spit roast Brother Edgar was free to thrust harder and deeper into the Countess's pussy, and he was now slamming his cock right up into her and ramming her hips into the edge of the table, while she simply grabbed at the far edge of the table and hung on, crying out now in passion as well as pain.

It was the Countess who came first, her red and tear streaked face distorting in a mixture of pain and pleasure, calling out repeatedly as she got closer, her words a mix of insult and enjoyment. 'Yes, you holy bastard, that's it, plough my furrow. God yes, you do it well and I thank you, now do it harder.'

Brother Edgar complied, fucking her so violently even the great oak table she was lying over was moved inch by inch across the floor of the church, the Countess's knuckles showing white in the candlelight as she held the table edge as tightly as she could.

'Yes, yes.' She gave a full throated yell. 'Yes, I'm coming, sow your seed.'

Then she erupted into orgasm, thrashing around beneath him, twisting her head from one side to the other and letting loose a stream of obscenities.

'Yes, fuck me, yes, yes, fill my cunt, fuck me harder, I've reached heaven.'

Her orgasm began to decline and she slumped across the table, spent and seemingly exhausted, but given no respite by Brother Edgar who was now following her command to 'sow his seed'. He was gripping her hips and leaning back to give himself maximum penetration, but still thrusting forcefully into her and groaning his release as he did so. Very soon he too was spent and was lying bent over her back, gasping and fighting for breath.

After a few moments he stepped back, his cock hanging limp and shiny between his legs, leaving the Countess still lying face down across the table. I wondered if this was a regular occurrence, or at least if this was not the first time she had been through the experience, for she seemed to know once more what was about to happen and started to rise from her prone position, holding out her hands. The two other monks now took hold of her, turned her around and flipped her over so she landed on her back along the table length instead of face down across it. She yelped with sudden discomfort as her tender back landed on the red and gold raised embroidery of the cloth, but she accepted the abrupt move without other protest.

They then pulled her along the table so her bottom was level with the side and pushed her legs back. Brother Edgar now came back to grab hold of one of the Countess's ankles while the monk named as Brother Mark took a hold of the other, holding her legs back and wide open between them and putting her on open display. She had remarkably long and shapely legs for a woman of her time and years and the sight of her with them held open in that way was quite stimulating and very erotic. But we stared mainly at her pussy, amazed at how much it gaped open from her arousal and from being fucked, and watching a little trickle of cum and pussy juice seeping from its entrance.

'My god. She really is horny, isn't she?' Angie sounded astounded and excited at the thought.

Brother Simon now purposefully moved in closer, making us smile by holding his cock straight out in front of him like a weapon, which I suppose it was, and as he positioned himself and spoiled our view we all moved to the side simultaneously and without a word spoken so we could continue to look at the Countess's pussy. The move was so synchronised I was tempted to call out the military order 'squad, two paces to the left, march!' but I satisfied myself with a tiny embarrassed smile and concentrated on what was happening before me.

There Brother Simon was feeding his cock into her, pushing it home forcefully so she was forced to throw her arms wide and grab hold of the edges of the table to stop herself being pushed backwards. She winced a little from the move, but that didn't stop her from encouraging her new partner.

'Yes, that's good; take me like the whore I am. I deserve it, I need it.' The Countess obviously enjoyed being extremely vocal while she was being fucked.

'Hurt me, split my womb, I care not, but fill me with your cream.'

'Good grief, no wonder the abbey got a bad reputation.' June voiced the thoughts of us all.

Brother Simon did as he was asked. He lasted only a very short time before, with a red face and knotted muscles, and accompanied by his partner repeating 'yes, yes, yes', he came inside her. His climax was a strong one, he rammed himself hard against her, making her cry out once more as her injured back was pushed along the table, his buttocks clenching repeatedly as he spurted his cum into her. As soon as he was eventually spent and drained he lay, like his predecessor, across the Countess's body for a few minutes, fighting to regain his breath and, if experience is anything to go by, trying to gauge if his visibly trembling legs would support his weight. When he did pull out and move away he left a pussy literally and obviously overfull and running with fluids, the increasing stream of slickness trickling from the entrance and pooling on the cloth.

Brothers Simon and Mark now exchanged places, Brother Simon taking a hold of the Countess's ankle and Brother Mark moving around to stand before her waiting pussy. His colleagues then looked at him questioningly and, on receiving his nod of assent, folded the Countess's legs right back, pressing her knees down on to her shoulders so her pelvis was rolled back to bring both her pussy and her arse into clear view.

I thought for a moment, and I'm sure the others did too; that he was intending to penetrate her anus, for her glistening wet back door was presented at exactly the right angle for him to fuck. But instead he found her pussy and plunged in deep and hard. She responded with a moan of pure pleasure and a barrage of obscenities.

'That's it. Deep and hard. Do not hold back; fuck my cunt as you would stab a Yorkist, fast and deep.'

In the background I heard June's excited whisper. 'It's the fifteenth century, the Wars of the Roses.' But right then I was far too interested in the 'what' rather than the 'when' to take the information on board.

The monk drew back and rammed in again harder.

'Yes, you bastard son of Satan, fuck me well, fill me, spill your seed inside me, do not stop until my hole is red and sore.'

The monk was very obviously very turned on, but his self-control was supreme, for he suddenly stopped moving and held his cock just inside the entrance to the Countess's vagina, moving himself to counter her own moves and keep himself stationary.

'Don't stop! Why are you stopping? I want fucking. You heard what my Lord Bishop said. I need my hole purifying with your seed.'

'My Lady,' the monk told her softly, his voice thick and tight with need. 'My Lord Bishop told you that you needed all your holes purifying, and so I must cleanse all of them.'

With that he withdrew and sought to find her anus with the tip of his cock. Our original thought had been correct after all and he had simply wanted to cover his cock in a mix of wet juices to act as lubrication.

'Oh no. You cannot mean to enter me there?'

His answer was a strong and relentless thrust that pushed through her sphincter and into her rectum. From where we stood we saw the entry clearly, saw her anus being pushed back into her body, stretching a little as it moved, until with an almost audible pop, it became open enough to admit his cock and regain its former position, but with the head of his penis inside it. The Countess screamed as he entered her, trying hard to move backwards out of reach, but held in place by the men to either side of her.

'Take it out, take it out,' she yelled at the top of her voice, 'you will tear me apart. I cannot take you in where all things should only depart. Take it out.'

The monk took no notice at all and, aided by his brethren, fucked the Countess there with the same vigour that his predecessors had fucked her pussy. For a while we all thought she genuinely hated it, but once again we were mistaken. It wasn't long before her moans once more became moans of enjoyment and she was back on the climb to orgasm.

'Those men should pray for forgiveness, and I hope they didn't get it.' Angie spoke angrily, mixing her tenses from the confusion of time differences. We looked at her for explanation. 'Well, fancy treating a woman like that, no matter who she's supposed to be.'

'Angie. She wants to be treated like that. It turns her on, you said so yourself,' June pointed out.

'I know,' Angie told her, sounding slightly foolish. 'But it's still not right to humiliate her that way, is it?'

'Yes! It is if that's what she wants.' It was plain from her look of irritation that Willow disagreed strongly with her, and remembering what she had said to me, I thought I knew why.

Perhaps the powers that control our trips through time heard our remarks and decided enough was enough, for that was when the church, with its glittering candlelight still illuminating the pornographic tableau, began to fade, our sight closing and hearing grew fainter, and we knew we were headed back to our own time. We would never know if she orgasmed once more or even if the monk succeeded in 'purifying' her third entrance.