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From the outside, the Convent of Lesba looked like a church, albeit a grim and imposing one, and so Felicia had expected that upon passing through the gates she would find herself in a building filled with wide, open spaces of worship and vaulted ceilings.

But if such places existed, there was no sign of them at first.  The gates of the convent led into a twisty maze of stone passages.  Few were well lit, and most were so narrow that two people could not have walked abreast.  There were no windows, and Felicia immediately began to feel claustrophobic and panicky.

Running was not an option, though.  The priest led Felicia and Kyra swiftly through the halls by the leashes attached to their tit rings, and the girls had to hurry just to keep up.  Their hands were still bound to their clit rings and it was clear that anything but total obedience would result in agonising pain to their feminine organs.  And so they followed, obediently, deeper into their new home.

“My name is Father Duradel,” said the priest, not slowing down as he spoke.  “You will not speak to me unless I ask you a question.  For the duration of your stay here – and afterwards, the duration of your life – you will understand that you are lower in status than any male, whether human or otherwise, and conduct yourselves accordingly.  You will do best here if you acknowledge that you are nothing but a life support system for your fuckholes.”

He did not seek their acknowledgement of this.  He merely led them onwards.  They occasionally passed small rooms, connected to the corridor by severe wooden doors, some of which were open.  In one room they saw a naked blonde girl.  Her belly bulged with the final trimester of pregnancy; milk was leaking from her swollen tits.  Her cunt was aimed towards the doorway and she was masturbating.

In another room, a naked redhead was violently bucking against a sculpted marble penis that protruded from the room’s wall.  She was bent at the waist, so the stone cock entered her pussy from behind.  Her large tits hung down towards the floor, and she was crying as she fucked the fake cock.  “I’m a whore,” Felicia heard the girl mutter.  “I’m a stupid whore.”

Finally they reached a large room.  The floor here was made of slippery tile.  Oddly shaped basins ringed the walls, and it took Felicia a moment to realise that they had come to a men’s toilets – a urinal, presumably for the convent’s priests.

“What are we doing here?” asked Felicia – or at least, she tried to.  She still had a heavy stud through her tongue, and her words only came out as incoherent slurring.

“This is an appropriate place to begin your new lives,” said Father Duradel.  “You may say farewell to your old ones by turning to each other, and telling your former girlfriend that you love her.  You may kiss her, too.”

The priest’s words were alarming.  Felicia was scared.  But she had not been allowed to express affection for Kyra since they left Cadeland, and she was grateful for this chance.  She turned to look at her girlfriend.

Blonde, nude, big-ttited, Kyra had looked like a sex-dream even at the best of times.  Now, with her tongue pierced, drooling a little, her nipples leashed and her hands cuffed, Felicia couldn’t help but think that Kyra looked more like an object – some kind of fuck-doll – than the girl she had fallen in love with.  But that didn’t change her heart.

“I love you, Kyra,” she said – although with the tongue stud, it came out as “I uvv wuu, Waa-waa.”

Kyra looked back at Felicia’s buxom brunette body, and reciprocated.  “I uv wuu, Le-luu-ya.”

The two girls kissed – a messy affair.  Still not used to their tongue studs, they mostly just slobbered over each other’s lips.

We are disgusting.  The thought came to Felicia unbidden, but it felt true all the same, as she felt her girlfriend’s drool drip from her chin.  Look at us – disgusting lesbian pigs.

“Very good,” said Father Duradel.  “Now you will have the honour of undergoing St Kitten’s Rite of Lesbian Hatred.”

Felicia wanted to know what that meant – she knew she didn’t like the sound of it – but it was clear Father Duradel intended to demonstrate, rather than explain.  

He removed the tit leashes from each girl.  It never occurred to either girl to run – they didn’t even know the way back to the entrance of the convent, after the maze-like procession of passageways.  He unclipped their cuffed hands from their clits – although he didn’t remove their cuffs.  Then he had the girls extend their tongues, and he removed their tongue studs, and replaced them with large rings.  

In the centre of the men’s urinals was a large raised stone dais, about the size of a queen bed.  He had the two girls lie on this, facing each other.  Felicia shivered – the stone was cold.

Gently, Father Duradel raised one of Kyra’s legs, and then worked the end of a long sausage of some thick, gelid material into her pussy.  Kyra winced, but submissively allowed him to do this.  Felicia couldn’t tell what the sausage was made of.  It was about a foot and a half long, and seemed to be both solid and flexible.  There was a thin ring of what looked like golden metal running around the centrepoint of the sausage.  Then it was her turn, and the other end of the sausage went into her own twat.  She moaned slightly.  She had never had an object like this in her cunt – never been penetrated by something larger than her own fingers – and she felt uncomfortably, sluttily full.  

The sausage now connected both girls.  Felicia discovered if she clenched her pussy, she could squeeze the sausage out of her – but the act of doing so forced it deeper into Kyra, who gasped and moaned at the intrusion.  A moment later, Felicia felt the sausage forcing its way back into her own fuckhole as Kyra exercised her own cunt muscles.

Father Duradel nodded, satisfied, then bent down.  He had thin but strong metal clips in his hand, and before the girls could react he had used these to connect their clitoris rings together, then their tit rings, before finally forcing the girls’ mouths open and clipping their tongues together.

Felicia panicked now.  She now realised she could no longer have her tongue fully inside her own mouth without pulling Kyra’s to its full extension, which made Kyra squeal – but having her town tongue pulled out of her mouth felt uncomfortable and unnatural.  She saw that if both girls just relaxed and accepted that their tongues would hang out of their mouths, they could both be somewhat comfortable – but Felicia simply couldn’t do it.  She kept instinctively trying to return her tongue to her mouth – which pulled on Kyra, and made Kyra struggle, and soon the girls were pressed lip to lip, in a desperate competitive kiss, each trying to gain control over their tongue and dominate the other girl.

Their bodies could no longer pull away from each other, either.  They were pinned together by their tits and clitoris, and the slightest attempt to escape the other girl produced agony for both.  Instead, they pressed as close as they could, mashing their breasts into each other’s bosom, to minimise accidental pain.

Father Duradel moved behind Kyra and put something into her hands – which were still cuffed behind her back.  Felicia only had a very limited field of view now, and couldn’t see what it was.  But soon after, he did the same to her.  He had given her a small box, with what felt like a button on top.

“The item I have given you is a simple clicker,” said Father Duradel.  “It will govern what will happen to you over the next fortnight.  If neither of you clicks the button, you will not be touched by men during the first two weeks of your education.”

Felicia was barely listening.  She was still warring to get her own tongue into her mouth.  Her eyes tried to convey to Kyra that she should simply submit, and let her tongue belong to Felicia’s mouth, and they could both be happy, but the silly girl kept fighting her.

“However,” said Father Duradel.  “Each time you click the button, you will sign your girlfriend up to receive three lashes of a leather belt to her tits or pussy, to be delivered by the priests some time during the next fortnight.  And for every ten clicks, your girlfriend will be raped once by a man.”

Felicia’s eyes widened.  That was horrid.  He couldn’t be serious, could he?  Felicia would never press the button, and neither would Kyra.

“You will remain in this position until one of you has convinced three men to ejaculate on you,” said Father Duradel.  “The girl who has three men ejaculate on her first will be the winner.  The loser will have the size of her udders permanently enlarged using the venom of the Dollmaker Wasp, to make her more sexually attractive to men in future.”

Felicia began to struggle against her bonds.  So did Kyra.  They had both heard of the Dollmaker Wasp.  It was a monster born of Arth-Keros’ primal Forest, driven to sting females in the breasts.  Its venom caused excruciating pain – while permanently inflating the woman’s breasts into round, jiggly, fake orbs.  The sting was said to be one of the most painful things a woman could experience.

“One last thing,” said Father Duradel.  “The object in your cunts is an Avandrian Struggle Cock – a product of Val Orithian witchcraft.  It is awakened by being inside an aroused rapehole.  Once it awakens, it emits a painful electrical shock from the gold ring at its centre every five minutes.  If the gold ring is not in contact with flesh, it instead discharges the shock from both of its ends.  Enjoy.”  And with that, he bent over the girls – and injected a syringe into each of their buttocks.

“A mild aphrodisiac,” he explained – and then left them there, bound on the stone altar in the middle of the men’s toilets.

It didn’t take long for the drug that Father Duradel had injected to do its work.  Felicia felt her pussy wetten – and judging by the blush on Kyra’s face, Kyra was feeling the same effects.  

As their pussies began to lubricate, the Struggle Cock “woke up” – and began to gyrate slightly, wiggling as if it were a living worm, deep inside each girl’s cock.

Felicia squealed into Kyra’s open mouth, and in pure, instinctive revulsion, she tried to squeeze it out of her.  The cock squirted partway out of her fuckhole as though it were greased – and pushed an equivalent distance up inside Felicia’s girlfriend.

Almost immediately, Kyra screamed into Felicia’s mouth.  Her body jerked and spasmed, and Felicia realised that the cruel device in their cunts had shocked her.  Then she heard another sound – a faint click.

Had Kyra just pressed the button on the clicker?  Had she just ordered Felicia to have her tits or cunt whipped?  Or had Felicia just imagined it?

She looked into Kyra’s eyes, and saw fear, desperation, arousal – but nothing to tell her one way or another if her girlfriend had just pressed the clicker.

But Kyra was betraying her in another way.  Slowly, inexorably, Kyra was forcing the Struggle Cock out of her own pussy, and back into Felicia’s.

Felicia clamped down her pussy muscles, and fought back.  She didn’t want the vile thing inside her.  The wiggling tip felt like an animal had its tongue deep in her snatch.  It was vile, repulsive – and yet disgustingly arousing.  She hated it.  She tried to force it out.

The cock squirted back and forth between their pussies – first penetrating up into Felicia’s womb, then sliding back out into Kyra, then back into Felicia.  Felicia moaned.  The cock was effectively fucking her, and their matched efforts to force it out were creating a delicious, powerful rhythm as it raped first one girl and then the other.

They were still battling for control of their tongues, too – an endless, slutty, tiring kiss.  Drool flowed freely from their mouths as they pulled at each other, lips locked together, eyes fixed on each other’s faces.

Five minutes passed, and this time when the shock came the midpoint of the Struggle Cock was inside Felicia.  She screamed as electric pain zapped through her groin.

And, without even thinking about it, she pressed the clicker.

She wanted Kyra to feel the same pain she was feeling.  She wanted to punish Kyra for not just accepting the cock in her cunt.  

The click was soft, almost inaudible.  Felicia thought if she was more careful she could press it without making any noise at all.

And then she realised it if was possible to press the clicker silently, Kyra might have done it already.  She looked into Kyra’s eyes, and saw suspicion and anger mixed with the lust and degradation.

Kyra had pressed the clicker more than once.  Felicia just knew it.  Quietly, she pressed her own clicker again.  She was just keeping it even.

They began to fight even harder over the struggle cock now, humping hard against each other’s groins to give them more ability to push the device further into the other girl’s twat.  Felicia experimented with deliberately pulling her cunt or tits away from Kyra – it hurt both girls, but Felicia would be ready for it, and Kyra wouldn’t, giving her the chance to pull her tongue into her mouth and push the cock into Kyra’s cunt while Kyra was surprised.  

And it worked – but then Kyra got wise to the idea, and began deliberately jerking at the tit and clit connections herself, and then both girls were in pain, neither able to stop without giving the other an advantage.

Men began to come into the toilets, and use them.  Felicia thought this was the most humiliating thing she could imagine – fuck-battling another nude girl on a stone slab while listening to the sounds of men pissing.  

After a while a man came over and began masturbating over the two girls.  When he ejaculated, his cum landed on Kyra’s face, and even as she watched Kyra flinch with humiliation and horror, she felt a surge of rage and jealousy.  How dare this man think Kyra was prettier than Felicia was?  The man had been standing behind Felicia and Felicia hadn’t been able to see him – had Kyra been making eyes at him?  Seducing him?  Encouraging him to cum on her?

The little slut.

Felicia deliberately pressed her clicker twice.

The next two cunt zaps went into Kyra, but Felicia took the one after that, and to her shame – and confusion – it made her orgasm.  She felt herself crying as she bucked – pulling at her tits and clit – and moaned into her girlfriend’s mouth.  Worse still, the orgasm made her cunt become loose and relaxed, and she ended up taking the next zap, and the one after that, before she rallied and forced the evil device back into Kyra.

Another man masturbated over them.  His cum landed on Felicia’s face.  Some of it dripped into the girls’ tongue-locked mouths.  They were tied, one and one.

Felicia wanted this to end.  She hated it.  She began trying to get the attention of the pissing men, looking at them as best she could, wiggling her body at them.  This caused more pain for Kyra, but Felicia no longer cared, and when Kyra started wiggling, trying to get her own male attention, Felicia knew she was justified.  

The next load of cum landed on Felicia’s naked feet, and she felt the sperm oozing between her toes.  She felt bizarrely, sluttily grateful to the anonymous man who had ejaculated on her – at least until, a few minutes later, another load splattered on Kyra’s face.

They were two and two now.  Felicia pressed her clicker a few more times.  How many times had she pressed it?  Had it been ten?  Had she sentenced her girlfriend to male rape?

Then the Struggle Cock shocked her twat again, and she no longer cared.  She clicked the button five more times.

Kyra was tiring, Felicia could see.  She was no longer fighting for her tongue.  Felicia’s tongue was mostly resting comfortably in her mouth now, and she could close her lips and suck on the end of Kyra’s tongue.  The Struggle Cock was spending more time in her girlfriend’s twat than in Felicia’s own, and soon Felicia felt she might be able to keep it there permanently.

A man loomed over the two girls.  “Do you want me to cum on you, cunts?” he asked.

Both girls found new strength, and made eager, incoherent sounds around their leashed tongues.  Felicia tried to wiggle her tits at the man.  Kyra aimed to wiggle her ass.  Both girls squealed at the resulting pain.

“Well, okay then!” said the man.  “I tell you what.  I’ll cum on the girl who presses her clicker the most times before I reach my orgasm.”  And the girls could hear him beginning to stroke his cock.

They looked at each other.  All that was necessary was for one girl to click their button once, and the other to stay silent.  The man would cum on one of them, and the ordeal would be over.

Surely Kyra understood that.  Didn’t she?  

So which one of them should click their button?

It should be Felicia.  Felicia hated fucking men much more than Kyra.  Kyra might be bisexual.  She had been eager enough to lick up that homeless man’s cum, on the night that had gotten them both in trouble.  Surely Kyra would come to the same conclusion.

But maybe Kyra would think it was Felicia’s fault they were here.  That Felicia had been the one who rejected the homeless man, who had been rude to him.

Of course she would.  The little bitch.

Felicia needed to take the lead.  Once she had shown the initiative, Kyra would back her play.

She clicked her button.  Loudly.

Kyra’s eyes widened with horror and betrayal, and it occurred to Felicia just now that possibly Kyra had *never* pressed her button, throughout their whole ideal, and had not realised that Felicia had ever pressed it.  

Kyra clicked her button.  Twice.

Felicia’s face darkened with rage.  She pulled Kyra’s tongue into her mouth, forced the Struggle Cock deep into Kyra’s vagina, and then clicked her own button, five times, very loudly.

Kyra started to cry, then.  Her salty tears flowed into Felicia’s open mouth.  And she clicked her button – once, twice, five times… ten times.

She had just doomed Felicia to be raped.  Deliberately.

There was only one thing to be done.  Felicia clicked her own button ten times.  And she pulled hard on her tits and cunt.  If Kyra was going to cry like a whiny, traitorous baby, then Felicia would *give* her something to cry about.

And after that, both girls were just clicking their buttons as fast as they could, wrestling and writhing and spitting in each other’s mouths.  Felicia felt herself orgasm somewhere in the pain and betrayal and hatred, and orgasmed again when she felt Kyra reach her own climax.  The little slut.  The little lesbian bitch.  

It must have been impossible for the man standing over them to pick a winner.  By the end of it, both girls had clicked their button over a hundred times each.  But he had to cum somewhere, and to Felicia’s immense relief he picked her, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her hair back, so that her mouth opened and he could cum directly onto her pierced, clamped tongue.  Felicia felt the cum flood her mouth, and heard Kyra begin to sob incoherently with fear and betrayal, and she couldn’t help but feel a proud flush of victory.

It was only afterwards – after Father Duradel had returned and unleashed both girls, and shepherded them to separate sparse, jail-like rooms with locked doors – that Felicia began to really think about what she had just done.  And what the future held for herself and her girlfriend.

And then the horror truly set in.


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