First story I've posted here- would love to get feedback.
The Garden of Cocks
Margret Baker pulled the bell cord outside the cathedral, then waited. After a minute, she was going to pull it again, when the heavy oak door creaked open.
“Yes, my dear? How can the Sisters of Penitence help you?” asked the surprisingly young, smiling nun behind the door. She didn’t wear the habit, just a simple brown dress, and her curly brown hair shone in the sun. She barely looked thirty and her smile was radiant. A thin silver cross hung around her neck.
“Well, um, Sister.” Margret stammered. “I came… to see the Garden.”
“Really, dear?” The sister looked her over and Margret blushed. They both knew what the Garden contained. “And what is your name?”
“Margret, you look a little young to go into the Garden. Do your parents know you’re here?”
“Yes, sister, I guarantee they do. And please, I’ve made three days journey from my village to be here. By foot.”
“Well! A pilgrimage!” the nun laughed. “Come in then. Any one old enough to make such a pilgrimage is old enough to enter. My name is Sister Beatrix. I will show you around.”
Margret stepped inside and marveled at the height of the roof as Beatrix closed and barred the door.
“Have you ever seen a Cathedral before, Margret?”
“No, Sister. Most of the farmhouses in our village are made of mud, even mine. The mayor lives in one made of wood, but it’s only two stories. How did such a place ever get built?”
“Workers from Rome came,” Beatrix said, looking at the high ceilings herself, taking a deep breath. “It took them five years of hard labor, cutting rock, lifting it five stories high to put the top on. Some of the sisters helped, too, with the inside decorations. But it was worth it, for the work we can do here." She took another deep breath. "Come, let me take your traveling cloak.”
As Beatrix hung Margret’s cloak on a hook, the young girl gasped. The sister turned and saw her looking at the marble statue that stood in the center of the entryway.
It was of a strong woman, her curly hair flowing in the wind, holding a shield up in a defiant pose, her gaze challenging all who came through the front door. From the front, only above her eyes and below her shins could be seen around the shield. From the side, where Margret stood now, one could see that the woman was naked from head to toe. Every muscle on her body was defined, strong but unmistakably feminine.
Margret stood transfixed by the marble goddess.
“This statue reminds the sisters here that we are the only defense this area has against the Devil’s corruption," Beatrix said. "We must stand fast, be their shield, when temptation arises.”
Margret gulped, looking at the firm, full marble breasts and round, tensed buttocks. The nipples and vaginal lips had all been lovingly craved in perfect realism.
“But… she’s naked! Isn’t that… wrong?”
“Dear, God didn’t make such beauty as the female form so that we would close our eyes to it. It is only wrong if it incites lustful thoughts in men. And even then, those thoughts can sometimes be of use in the service of the Almighty.”
Beatrix watched Margret continue to stare, then said, “Go ahead and touch it. Everybody does.”
The younger girl reached out and put a shaking hand on the statue’s lower back. It felt strong, almost alive. She stepped closer and found her hand drifting, until she was cupping the statue’s prominent naked ass.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sister!”
“Don’t be, dear. It is said that the artist carved her so that no matter where one puts their hand, it would always be drawn to her rear. An attribute he saw in the model, apparently.”
“This was based on a real person?”
“Of course, dear. And the sculptor captured her very well, I think. Unfortunately, he became so obsessed with her afterwards that he had to spend a few months as the first male guest in our Garden. To purify himself of such lustful thoughts towards an unmarried woman. Now, would you like to continue?”
“Yes, Sister,” Margret said, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from the beautiful statue.
They walked down a little hallway lit with stained glass windows, the sister in the lead.
“How much do you know about the Garden, and why it exists?”
“I know all dangerous criminals are still sent to the Magistrate in Oxney,” Margret said. “Murders, cattle thieves, traitors to the crown and such. But their prisons were getting full, so the petty criminals in the county are now sent here instead.”
“That is part of it,” Beatrix said, nodding. “But we sisters and our Garden serve another function, one an unfeeling prison cannot give the wayward man.” She stopped outside another heavy door and looked at the girl. “To give penitence. Do you understand this word?”
Margret nodded. “To make one truly regret their wrongdoing.”
“Exactly, dear. Keep that in mind when you see what’s behind this door. Remove your shoes and clean your feet, please, to enter the Garden.”
Margret slipped her shoes off, and washed her feet in the basin of warm water left next to the door for that purpose. She saw that Beatrix made no similar motion, and suddenly realized the nun had been barefoot the entire time. And that the hem of the nun’s dress stopped three inches above the floor, with a red velvet stripe running all around its lower edge.
That’s an odd fashion
, Margret thought. Must be popular in Rome.
Margret’s own dress was a simple white smock that ended at her knees. Her father had always said showing her calves so blatantly would get her into trouble one day. I wonder what he thinks now!
“Ready?” Beatrix asked. Margret nodded, and Beatrix opened the door to reveal a large, airy room with almost a hundred cock sprouting from the floor, evenly planted like corn in a garden.
Margret blinked, looked again. Yes, it was true! Hard penises sprang from the wooden floor like daisies! She gasped, holding her hands in front of her mouth.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Beatrix asked. “Come, let me show you how the Garden works.” She walked forward to the first penis, jutting up out of a hole 10 feet from the door. As she stopped and turned back to Margret, the hem of her dress swished over the erect cock, and Margret heard a small moan from beneath her feet.
“Are the men trapped down there?” the young girl gasped.
“No, dear! Not permanently! Think of wooden doors in a house. But instead of putting them in walls, we put them into the floor. Below each door is a man, resting on a soft blanket. And of course, we cut a hole in the door just big enough for their instruments of penitence to stick out. After their instruments are pulled through, we stuff the edges of the hole with silk, so they cannot pull them back out. And to prevent splinters.”
As Beatrix explained the hole and the silk, she used her bare toes to outline it for Margret, and to give the jutting balls a small nudge. Another moan sounded below Margret’s feet.
“But why don’t the men just open the door from their side and get up?” she asked.
“Their hands are belted very securely to their waist.”
“So they can’t do anything to stop you from touching them?” Margret realized in amazement.
“Not a thing! They must lie there and endure whatever is done to them.” Beatrix raised a foot and used her insole to bat at the vertical cock, then rubbed the head with her toes, and finally put the lightest bit of pressure on the full, purple balls. The floor beneath them wailed in agony. “See?”
“My girlfriends always told me that men liked having women touch them there. Isn’t this pleasurable for them?”
“For the first hour or so they are in the Garden, perhaps it is a lurid fantasy come true,” Beatrix said. “But God, in his infinite wisdom, designed men such that their greatest pleasure becomes their greatest agony, if applied correctly.”
She used her toes on the twitching cock head again. It was now slick with pre-cum. “By the second day of being underfoot without any release, most men beg for mercy. Unfortunately, the minimum stay in the Garden is thirty days.” The wood beneath Margret’s feet shook with moans.
“You don’t release them for a month? How do they eat?”
“Oh, Margret,” the nun laughed, “not that kind of release! No, each man is let out for one hour each morning and night, to use the toilet and bathe, to be exercised in the courtyard and eat a filling meal, all under our strict supervision. Their lunch is poured directly into their mouth through the grate you are standing over right now.”
Margret looked down, to see an iron grate with holes in it the size of her thumb and a man’s squirming face below it. She squealed and jumped to the side, holding her smock close to her legs.
“He was looking up my dress the whole time!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, Sister!”
Beatrix laughed again. “Margret, remember what I told you! Our purpose here is penitence, to make them regret their actions. Do you see this?” She rubbed her toes over the balls in front of her, showing their tightness and fullness.
“This is fifteen days of regret, built up in the area most likely to occupy a man’s mind. The more we can fill it with dirty thoughts, the faster Timothy here will truly regret short-changing customers in his bakery for years. So your actions have helped us. In fact, that is the mission of the Garden. Look around, see what the other sisters are doing.”
Margret did, and saw five nuns enter the room from a side door, heading to a door on the other side. They walked in a line following each other, and their leader took them in a curving path, so that their hems would brush over as many stiff cocks as possible before reaching the other door. Each erect penis wobbled and twitched after the passing, like a tree being shaken by the wind.
“That’s why your hems are like that!” Margret said. “And the soft lining at the end-“
“Specially chosen to give fleeting pleasure,” Beatrix said, doing a twirl. Her velvet lining made Timothy cry in frustration as it tickled his shaft. “We sewed them on ourselves, after Sister Johanna had the idea."
"And the sisters walk through the Garden a lot?"
"It is the center of the Cathedral," Beatrix replied. "You must cross it to get to any other part! But look over there- when sisters relax in here, they can be more direct in their teasing.”
Margret followed Beatrix's finger and saw a young blond nun sitting back in a chair, her brown dress tucked up to her knees. Her feet feet and calves were slowly manipulating one leaking cock sticking out from the floor, while her dangling hand held a feather, which she was languidly stroking over a different set of jutting balls. In her other hand, she was reading a Bible.
Beatrix and Margret walked up to her, and Margret watched Beatrix’s dress brush over each cock in the row as they approached. The men, she realized, were laid out in regular rows, close side to side, but six feet apart head to foot to make room for the rest of their bodies. Margret looked at the four doors leading to the Garden, and started plotting paths she would take between them, to encounter the most penises possible.
“What are you reading to them, Sister Gwen?” Beatrix asked.
“The Song of Solomon, Sister Beatrix.”
“Excellent choice. Carry on. But make sure to rotate before you leave. Mr. Johnson confessed to me last night that he particularly enjoys your feather.”
“Really?” Gwen laughed. “Well, then I must certainly not disappoint!” She stood to turn her chair and Margret swear she heard Mr. Johnson sigh in relief as his foot torment disappeared. Right before he began wailing as Sister Gwen applied her feather to his cock head with full attention.
Margret started feeling flush in her chest and between her legs, watching Gwen smile as the floor shook violently beneath them. But no matter how he struggled, the trapped cock and balls stayed perfectly exposed and available for the nun to torment from any angle she wished. Which she was still doing as Beatrix led Margret away a minute later.
“But not all is fun and games, Margret. There is a lot of work in keeping this Garden clean and functional. See, Sister Sarah is giving the flowers their daily bath.”
They came up to a nun on her knees with a bucket of soapy water and rags next to her.
“So many sisters’ feet touch each flower each day,” Beatrix explained, “that they must all be cleaned once a day. For their own good.”
Margret watched in wide-eyed amazement as the nun soaped her hands in the bucket, then grabbed the penis in front of her directly with her hands, vigorously lathering the soap in. She cleaned it the same way Margret would clean a cucumber on the farm: fast, full strokes from tip to base and back again. But every trip, Sarah gave the cock head a twist with her soapy fingers. The floor began shaking beneath them.
“Don’t you do it, Mr. Wimbly,” Sister Sarah said, never slowing down in her stroking. “It would be extremely naughty of you if you did! Hold back! Find the strength to resist temptation! Don't you do it!”
The floor screamed and cum started spurting out between Sarah’s fingers. Margret could not take her eyes away as gobs and gobs of the white fluid splattered on the floor.
“Mr Wimbly!” Sarah chided, still stroking him. “You barely held out one minute! I’m going to ask all the sisters to pay special attention to you tomorrow! You have a lot of self-control to learn!”
Beatrix stifled a laugh, patted Sarah on the shoulder and led Margret away.
After they were out of Sarah’s hearing, Margret pulled on Beatrix's sleeve.
“I thought they weren’t supposed to get any releases!” she said. “Shouldn't we have stopped Sister Sarah before she made that mistake?”
Beatrix just smiled at her, then leaned in so that she could whisper without the men overhearing.
“Our flowers are washed, vigorously, by hand, every single day. If the hand maiden ‘accidentally’ gives them a release the fifth day they are here, how much hope do they have before their washing on day six? And every time they are washed for the rest of their stay?”
“No, Margret, Sister Sarah acted perfectly. We arrange for each guest to have some type of ‘accident’ about every month or two, just to send their false hopes sky high every time they are touched. Well, every guest except for one. Come.”
They went to the center of the room and a larger cock straining skyward there. Unlike all the other men which had white silk to keep the hole from scratching them, this one’s silk was purple.
When she was a few steps away, Sister Beatrix hiked her dress hem above her knees. Then, in an obviously well-practiced motion, she planted one instep against his cock from the side and used her other to slowly grind the penis against her planted ankle and shin.
"Below you is my favorite guest in our Garden," Sister Beatrix told Margret, as she stood on one foot and continued to manipulate the already dripping hard-on. "Todd O'Connor, a young lad of just eighteen short years who committed the most heinous act I can imagine: stealing from the tithe basket!"
Margret noticed that even as Beatrix seemed to be talking to her, the conversation she was having with Todd was much more complex. The Sister's strokes changed from three fast to three slow, from stroking to rolling to grinding, from using her shin to rub his head to using her ankle or toes. It was a masterwork of penis handling, and Beatrix was doing it all without breaking conversation or eye contact.
"And can you believe that dear Todd had grown up in a boys' school, never even feeling the touch of a woman, before being caught and sent to us? So that every sensation we put him through is like a new torment that he has never imagined?"
"That's... incredible," Margret whispered, staring at the symphony Beatrix was playing on Todd's cock. It looked just like Mr. Wimbly's had before he had exploded- veins full, twitching, begging for release. Its entire length was slick with pre-cum which poured from the head. But Beatrix seemed to know the perfect combination of strokes and pinches which would keep him from going over the edge. It was incredible!
"Yes, it is a rare chance," Beatrix said, now using her soft sole to slowly, lovingly stroke Todd's cock against her smooth calf. She looked up, at the stained glass windows in the roof. "So the Sisters and I came to a decision. And we put purple silk around his cock to remind us of that decision. That Todd O'Connor would not have spill his seed, not even have accidental release, for one entire year."
Todd cried out. Margret dropped to her knees to look in the grate. His face was in agony.
"A year!" the girl gasped. "Can he survive that long?"
"We don't know. We've never taken a man that far. But, with the grace of God, we shall find out in ten months, won't we, Todd?"
"Please!" he cried. "Please! No more! I said I was sorry! It was just a few silver pieces! I'll never do it again!"
"I know you won't," Beatrix said. "But our job is to see that you will not even think about it again. And that takes longer."
"It wasn't even my idea! I met this woman, and she told me if I gave her silver, she would take me down to the river!"
"See?" Beatrix said to Margret. "It always comes back to lustful thoughts. We have to make sure Todd remembers our lessons the next time he is tempted by a loose woman. That is why we put him in the center of the room, the highest traffic area. So that he would learn the fastest..."
The Sister closed her eyes and gave him a few more long strokes. Then she sighed in pleasure and released his cock, returning to two feet.
"Do you wish to try it?"
Margret was shocked. "What? Me? Now?"
"Because of his nature, Todd is much more... responsive than any other flower here. We use him to train all the Sisters new to the Garden."
Margret looked through the grate, at the begging face below.
"Please! Don't!" he whispered.
"Yes, Sister, I've love to try it," she said, getting up with a smile.
As Beatrix watched, Margret approached the cock and balls with one foot, and gently rubbed her toes against his balls. When they didn't bite her, she pushed harder, feeling them under her feet. Then she gingerly rubbed a few toes against his vertical shaft. Todd moaned.
Then she stood on one foot as she had seen Beatrix do, trying to rub the cock into her left calf with her right. Her balance gave out almost immediately, and Margret's flailing hand found the Sister's strong back for support. It was only after she had steadied that Margret noticed her hand was now resting on directly on Beatrix's rock hard butt.
"Oh, I'm sorry Sister!" She moved to pull away, but the Sister stopped her.
"Don't worry, dear," Beatrix laughed. "It seems to happen to everyone." She placed her hand on Margret's, to make the grip firm. "But you're trying a very advanced move right away; use me for balance for a bit."
With her hand resting on the Sister's upper butt, Margret raised a foot again and pressed the quivering cock against her other foot. She rolled and stroked it, closing her eyes to revel in the feelings. The twitching of his cock between her feet seemed to ride directly up her legs to the flesh between her hips. She felt her heart race faster and licked her lips. Then she realized where she was and her eyes flew open.
"Enjoyable, isn't it?" Beatrix asked. "Doing the Holy Church's work?" Margret nodded, and was more than a little sad as the Sister helped her off of Todd's cock.
Standing with all four of their feet just inches from the tormented boy's penis, Beatrix leaned in close to Margret, to whisper again. "Honestly, he was only supposed to stay one month, but Todd has become such a favorite of all the sisters that we could not let him go! The five coppers we pay Miranda each month to lure young men down to the river has paid off most handsomely!"
Margret gulped, as she realized the full meaning of the words.
"Sister," she whispered. "Do doing such things to the men here ever make you think... un-pure thoughts?"
"Only if you do not allow yourself release, Margret. In his wisdom, God also designed women to be cleansed after they achieve the very ecstasy that we deny the men."
"But how do you do that, if none of you can be married?"
"The Holy Vatican has only written that nuns cannot lay with men, Margret. We have our ways."
Margret gulped again. Beatrix stepped back. "Come, that concludes the tour of the
Garden. If you'd like, we can give you a meal before you set off back home."
Margret didn't move, looking down at the floor.
"Sister? I want to ask you... Is there any way I could... stay..."
"Here?" Beatrix finished for her. "We always welcome new women to the nunnery, but I do not want to deceive you, Margret. It is not all tending the Garden. Much of our time is spent making meals, mending clothes or doing dishes. And church services take up time, too."
"That sounds just like my old life at home, Sister. But without the Garden to look forward to at the end."
"If that's the case, I can see about adding you, as a provisional trainee-"
Margret used both feet to launch herself into a hug with Beatrix. "Thank you Sister!"
"Okay, okay dear. You're welcome," Beatrix said, peeling Margret's hands off her butt again. "Let me notify the bursar and we'll see about finding you a room."
"Thank you!" Margret looked around at the room, at the life that soon would be hers. She could not stop grinning. "Oh, and can I ask, Sister, do you have any guests in the Garden named Jonah Flint or Harry Baker, Jr.?"
"Yes, they are together, over in that corner. Why do you ask?"
"No reason! I'll be right back!"
Margret ran to the quiet corner, her bare feet dancing on the smooth wood. She looked at the names on the floor until she found the two cocks, sticking out of the floor at half mast. She went to her knees between them.
"Hello boys!" she said into the grates. "Enjoying your stay?"
"Margie!" Jonah cried. "What are you doing here?"
"I told you I'd see you like this one day, Jonah! Ever since I caught you and Harry spying on me as I bathed in the lake."
"Margie, please! Tell them the truth! We only did that once! They gave us a month for every time you said we looked at you!"
"I may have fibbed a little, but I know you thought about doing it much more than just once, didn't you? And guess what? I'm going to live here now, so I can help teach you and Harry during your, hard, hard sentence."
Margret giggled. Jonah's penis was still soft, but Harry's had gotten rock hard. She scooted over to the other grate.
"Oh, Harry, I knew you thought of me that way! You're my cousin for god's sake! I always felt your eyes watching me, as I changed."
"Then why did you change in front of me so many times?" Harry whined.
Margret stood up, over Harry's hard cock.
"I think," she said, lightly running a toe over his balls, "it was a sign from God. He wanted all three of us to be here in the Garden. Together."
"Friends of yours?" Sister Beatrix said, moving to take up a place over Jonah's soft penis.
She began rolling it around between her insoles, forcing it harder heartbeat by heartbeat.
"Yes, Sister," Margret said, suddenly embarrassed but recovering. "They were from my village. They were boorish and rude to all the young girls in town."
Beatrix smiled. "Well, we shall correct them, with God's help." She had Jonah hard now, and took up her one-footed stroking as she had done to Todd. Jonah cried out. Margret began teasing Harry's penis less expertly with her insole.
"They've only been here five days," Beatrix said, reading the notes on their doors. She looked at Margret significantly. "All their hand washings have been clean
"In that case, would you mind, Sister, changing their silk to purple? They were very
rude to the girls in the village."
"That's sounds fine, Margret. And I think I'll move them next to Todd, in the center of the room," Beatrix said, while Jonah weeped softly from her unceasing torment. "This area doesn't get enough foot traffic for two young boys to learn very quickly."
"Thank you, Sister!"
"Please, call be Beatrix."
The older woman extended her hand, and Margret took it. They spent the morning that way, Sister Beatrix using the two boys to teach Sister Margret her first lesson about growing flowers in the Garden of Cocks.