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The Competition

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Suddenly, I'm afraid , my body is entirely shivering !!!​
I'll be soon hardly whipped and nailed to a cross like Jesus !!!
Why was I accepting this fate, this competition ??? !!!​
Could I stay proud till the last moment , could I really support those awful pains ??? !!!​

:eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek::eek:

Messaline Crucified 002red.jpg​
 
messaline said:
Suddenly, I'm afraid , my body is entirely shivering !!!​
I'll be soon hardly whipped and nailed to a cross like Jesus !!!
Why was I accepting this fate, this competition ??? !!!​
Could I stay proud till the last moment , could I really support those awful pains ??? !!!​

Click to expand...

A strange man visits Messaline just before her presentation. He studies her and takes a drink. Messaline believes his eyes have already undressed her...
tree suave.jpg
"You look nervous, Messaline. That is no way to score points. This is not that much different from your tours of Anjou."

"It is entirely different! This time I will be nailed to a cross, raised, and hang from it until I am dead!"

"Yet it will be the same. Your beautiful body will be displayed on a cross and you will look marvelous...
plans messa's panic jpeg.jpg
...Now go and make France proud!!!"
 

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thehangingtree said:
You did well Barbara...

Perhaps your shoulders should have been back a bit more. That would have thrust your lovely breasts more pronouncedly. I am sure Messa will do so...
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this is not the Miss America contest Tree... this is serious!
 
Celticvirgin said:
:very_hot: Barb yet again manages to get her female audience excited.... I mean this is brill!!! And now Messaline too. Roisin is locked naked in her cage wishing she was good enough to be a novice. She sees the girls and dreams. Then Sr Hilda walks down the stairs. She is in a fowl humour for some reason???
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Ahh yes, Roisin got left behind ... unless ... Hilda brought her along?:rolleyes:
 
I'm sure that His Eminence is a very, very content man, and that your sins are well and truly absolved! :rolleyes:

I think this is definitely turning out to be one of your best, Barb! :)

:goodjob: (Shame there's not one that says Great Job!)
 
messaline said:
But, in this case, would it be an Alliance ? Alas, it seems that it will be a "competition "....:D
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well, we'll agree on encouraging each other
till we've outstripped l'anglaise ;) :devil:

Barbaria1 said:
11. It was very early in the morning, still dark out, when she kissed me on the nose and said, "Wake up sleepyhead, it's time. The carriage will be here shortly."

I stretched lazily and rolled over on my side, propping my head on one hand to watch her dress. With fascination, I followed the leading edge of Sister Kathleen's habit as it cascaded over head and shoulders, caught momentarily on the tips of her wobbling breasts, and then slipped enticingly down the gentle curve of her spine to gather just above that adorable pair of dimples over her ass cheeks before finally tumbling over her hips and gliding down her legs.

She turned, caught me looking, and threw my woolen novice's shift over my head. "Get up!" she ordered, laughing gaily.

A short time later the entire Cruxton Abbey team had assembled outside the Abbey gates to stand shivering in the dark, waiting for the carriage, which was late, to pick them up. I watched my breath condense into little white vapory clouds in the cold late-November air, shuffled my feet restlessly and tried not to feel too apprehensive about the coming day. Precisely at daybreak the carriage pulled up, driver decked out in bright red livery, the Cardinal's coat-of-arms emblazoned on its shiny lacquered side. We clambered in for the jolting three mile ride to Cruxton town.

Along the way, I suddenly asked, "What about my cross?"

"Sent on ahead, dear Barbara, don't worry,“ chuckled Ethelbert, adding, "Oh, by the way, I heard that there definitely will be a Scottish entry in this year's Competition: Crosshageul Abbey. It's located somewhere in the godforsaken wilds of the far north. And my sources say that the Abbess Ailsa will be presenting a very fine young novice called Eulalia."

Digesting this new piece of intelligence, we rode in silence, lost in our thoughts, until the Abbess finally asked, "any word on the identity of the fourth Abbey team?"

"No, it's a mystery," said Ethelbert, "but we shall know in good time, of that we can be sure."

We arrived safely, if not shaken by the poor roads, and were taken directly to our quarters just off the Cathedral charter house. Told that the Cardinal was nearly ready for the formal "presentation" of the Competition novices and that Cruxton Abbey was to go first, we rushed to get me ready.

I stripped naked, and stood still while Sister Kathleen and the Abbess tied my small loincloth, with the emblem of the Abbey stitched to the front, around my narrow hips. The short white semi-sheer shift was removed from its wrapping, but before I could put it on, Sister Kathleen had to fuss over brushing a little color on my cheekbones and eyes; and then much to my surprise she began smearing rouge over my pink areolae and tumescent nipples, which quickly became hard and erect as she brushed her fingers back and forth over them.

I sucked in my breath.

"You do want his randy Eminence to notice them, don't you?" she said to me teasingly.

Then came the shift, and finally a black velvety cloak was placed over my shoulders and secured at my throat with a gold broach.

"You are ready, my dear," beamed the Abbess.

"And not a moment too soon," said Ethelbert, "the Cardinal is waiting"

An aide arrived to lead us down a corridor to the door of the chapter house. We entered. I began to tremble. Sister Kathleen squeezed my hand to steady me. At the far end of the chamber sat the Cardinal in a high-backed throne-like chair, dressed all in red, surrounded by bishops and clergymen of various ranks and descriptions. Sister Kathleen and the rest of my team were escorted off to one side.

The Abbess and I were invited to approach the dais. We went forward. The Abbess bowed low and said, "Your Eminence, may I present our young novice Barbara, who willingly and most humbly wishes to relive the passion of our Savior and Lord for the glory of her Abbey and the Church on high." On cue I went down on one knee, tossed my hair back away from my face as Sister Kathleen had taught me to do, bent forward and kissed his proffered hand.

"Rise", he said.

I did, and as I rose I looked him squarely in the eye as Sister Kathleen had also taught me to do. He had a very fleshy, pock-marked face, with heavy jowls and a double chin. But his eyes, dark and piercing, held my own in a magnetic way that I had never experienced before.

"Remove your cloak," he ordered.

My hand went to the broach at my neck to release the cloak, which slid from my shoulders and fell to the floor. I stood silently before him dressed in only my thin white shift.

His eyes moved immediately to my breasts and darkened nipples, clearly visible through and pressing out against the clingy light fabric. A trace of a smile crossed his fat face. Slowly he reached out with both hands and raised the front of my shift up and over my breasts, pressing it over my shoulders and against my neck with a series of little pats until it stayed there. He cupped my breasts, one in each hand, as though he was weighing them. He jiggled them, opened his hands and let them fall. Then he repeated this, again and again.

I did my best to keep my composure. Rather than react, I studied the bald patch on the top of his head. I became suddenly aware of how short he was, marveled at the richness of his fine bright red robes, and surveyed the intent faces of his entourage, all with their eyes glued on me.

The Cardinal eventually stepped back and circled round me, appraisingly, hand on his chin, golden rings on his fingers gleaming in the bright morning sunlight streaming through the chamber's high side windows.

He came back around in front of me and fixed my eyes again with his commanding stare. I felt a tug on the loincloth tie at my right hip and then at the left. I felt the cloth fall away, sliding down between my thighs, exposing me.

He looked down, frowned, looked closer and then laughed at the sight of my bush neatly trimmed in the shape of a cross ... another of Sister Kathleen's little ploys calculated to win points … I had a feeling it worked, but resisted the temptation to turn my head and grin at her over on the sidelines.

He circled around me a second time, stopping to lift the back of my shift and inspect my tight little bottom. Then he returned to stand in front of me. He leaned in as if to closely inspect my right nipple. I could see beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. His right hand shot down suddenly to clamp down over my mound, his stubby middle finger forcing its way between my lips and pushing up and in with such force that I rose up on my toes and gasped.

That seemed to please him. He removed his hand, wiped his finger on his sleeve, reached out, gently lowered the front of my shift back in place, turned and returned to his seat. It occurred to me that the members of his entourage curiously had not moved a muscle through the entire proceeding.

Settled on his throne again, the Cardinal raised his heavily ringed hand vaguely in my direction, fixed me with his eyes once again, and released a torrent of words absolving me of my sins and blessing the miracle of faith that I was about to perform that day.

"What rubbish," I thought to myself, but bowed reverently, scooped up my loincloth and cloak as graciously as I could, and backed away … the Abbess back pedaling in place alongside me.

As the Cardinal engaged in conversation with members of his entourage, perhaps to award me my points, the Abbess and I joined the rest of our team at the left side of the chamber.

"How did I do?" I whispered to Sister Kathleen."

"Not bad," she replied, "watch now; let's see if the French have any tricks up their sleeves.

I turned to watch, as the chapter house doors swung open to admit the French team from Mont St. Michel, led by its Abbess and the young novice, Messaline.


TO BE CONTINUED
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mmm - white smoke from the convent chimney,
habemus Barbaria!
 
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Eulalia said:
well, we'll agree on encouraging each other
till we've outstripped l'anglaise ;) :devil:
Click to expand...

ganging up :confused: ... no fair!!! :eek:

mmm - white smoke from the convent chimney,
habemus Barbaria!
Click to expand...

thank you, thank you ... but premature ... the French are always formidable ... and a Franco-Scottish alliance, oh dear ... but wait, there is a fourth competitor yet to be revealed ... will she tip the balance another way? Stay tuned everyone.
 
Eulalia said:
well, we'll agree on encouraging each other
till we've outstripped l'anglaise ;) :devil:
Click to expand...
Barbaria1 said:
and a Franco-Scottish alliance,
Click to expand...
Hum, encouraging, perhaps but no Alliance !
Like was saying the Legate Arnaud Amaury during the Beziers'sack ( France,war against Cathares 1209) :
"Kill all of them , God will recognize one's own !"....
... we can say : "Nailed all of them and the Cardinal will recognize one's own !" .....:devil:
 
messaline said:
Hum, encouraging, perhaps but no Alliance !
Like was saying the Legate Arnaud Amaury during the Beziers'sack ( France,war against Cathares 1209) :
"Kill all of them , God will recognize one's own !"....
... we can say : "Nailed all of them and the Cardinal will recognize one's own !" .....:devil:
Click to expand...

De_Gaulle-OWI.jpg Sounds like the French prefer to go it alone ... so be it then. ;)
 
The Mount St Michel Abbey 'staff doesn't want, in any case, to trouble the competition !!!

We want to say : the best do win !!!! (even if it's not our novice Messaline ; she's prepared for the eventuality of beeing loser...:devil:)
 
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messaline said:
The Mount St Michel Abbey 'staff doesn't want, in any case, to trouble the competition !!!

We want to say : the best do win !!!! (even if it's not our novice Messaline ; she's prepared for the eventuality of beeing loser...:devil:)
Click to expand...

that's the spirit ... sportsmanship above all ... let the competition begin! :)
 

12. The doors to the Chapter house flew open and the French team from Mont St. Michel Abbey blew in like the wind ... with the Abbess Claudine in the vanguard, followed by the novice Messaline, and the others fanned out in a swept-wing formation behind.

All eyes in the chamber were glued to Messaline, the much heralded young novice whom Ethelbert's covert intelligence gathering told him was everyone's favorite to win the competition.

I knew in an instant ... the moment I saw her ... that she was a force to be reckoned with. To begin with she was stunningly beautiful ... blonde hair with dark highlights; a sculptured face with high cheekbones, sensuous mouth, and perfect complexion; and a lithe figure that featured proud high breasts, a slim waist, and eye-catching legs blessed with full firm thighs and sleekly tapered calves.

But the attraction was more than physical; there was also something both magnetic and alluring about her bearing. Here was a young woman ... a very young woman ... who simply exuded confidence in the way she carried herself and looked out upon the world. As I watched her approach the dais, I saw something captivating in her eyes … captivating in the way they commanded attention; in the way they spoke of attitude, assuredness and pride. Unlike me, here was someone who never doubted, never needed to ask why.

For a moment my view was disrupted by the members of her team sidling past mine to take their place on the sideline. As the French nun, who like our Hilda was the team’s obvious whipster, passed in front of me I edged out my foot, tripping her and causing her to stumble into the monk in front of her. She turned to look at me, face contorted in surprise and anger, then continued on, glancing back once or twice more.

Sister Kathleen punched me in the shoulder and grinned, before reproaching me with a hissed, "That's not helpful, Barbara!"

Meanwhile, Messaline had stepped right up to the Cardinal, ignoring her Abbess and not waiting for an invitation, and unfastened her royal blue cloak, letting it fall, and haughtily confronting his Eminence straight on, widening her stance, placing hands on hips, and shaking her head and hair in an almost diffident way.

Leaning toward me, Sister Kathleen, whispered in my ear, “See, she is challenging him … not defying him, mind you … she hopes to intrigue him, pull him into her spider’s web, ensure that she is the most central object of his attention … a very clever strategy … she is good!”

Obviously surprised and seemingly uncertain, the Cardinal regarded her closely, his eyes fixated on her shift, which had been carefully altered and arranged so that the cut of the hem drifted down from just below the crown of her left hip to dance lightly over the fullness of her upper thigh on the right, barely masking the tiny white triangle of her loincloth while highlighting the shapeliness of her long legs.

Then his fleshy, pock-marked face broke into a lascivious smile. He rose from his chair, and circled her in his customary fashion, hand stroking his chin as he ogled her. But as he reached out for her, she neatly anticipated his move, shifting her hips to meet his touch, and then brazenly held out her hand for him to kiss!

He stopped, flummoxed, staring at her proffered hand, clearly unaccustomed to anything but silent obsequiousness in his presence. Then he bowed and kissed her hand!

She sniffed, withdrew her hand, reached down to the hem of her shift and lifted it slowly, teasingly, to her chin … then whipped it off over her head with a flourish. Tossing her head and hair again, she looked at him with clear eyes and completed her little performance by slowly reaching down with both hands to slide her loincloth down onto her thighs.

The Cardinal backpedaled, nearly losing his balance, then plopped himself down in his chair, wiped his brow, and then holding his hand aloft and vaguely in her direction, he mumbled his way through the same absolution of sin and blessing rigmarole that he had used on me.

I was sure I detected a smirk or two among his normally stone-faced entourage.

Without a word, Messaline stooped gracefully to gather up her shift and cloak from the floor, threw them over her arm, turned on her heel, and with perfect poise strode purposely and confidently to the back of the chamber, reaching back with a free hand to slide her loincloth back up, first left and then right, over her undulating ass cheeks and gently swaying hips.

I looked at Sister Kathleen, and she at me. “How do you think she did?” I asked.

“We just got beat by a French pro,” Kathleen replied ruefully, “we are going to need to step it up in the next round to keep up with the likes of her.”

Just then, Ethelbert came up behind us and tapped us on our shoulders. “We now know the identity of the other team … I just heard,” he whispered excitedly. "It’s a little known English Abbey, known as Threepwood, and home of the Little Sisters of Perpetual Crucifixion. They are next on his Eminence’s “presentation” agenda. The novice is called Thessela."

TO BE CONTINUED

credit to Siss for extensive plotting and writing assistance on this one.
 
Barbaria1 said:
12. The doors to the Chapter house flew open and the French team from Mont St. Michel Abbey blew in like the wind ... with the Abbess Claudine in the vanguard, followed by the novice Messaline, and the others fanned out in a swept-wing formation behind.

All eyes in the chamber were glued to Messaline, the much heralded young novice whom Ethelbert's covert intelligence gathering told him was everyone's favorite to win the competition.

I knew in an instant ... the moment I saw her ... that she was a force to be reckoned with. To begin with she was stunningly beautiful ... blonde hair with dark highlights; a sculptured face with high cheekbones, sensuous mouth, and perfect complexion; and a lithe figure that featured proud high breasts, a slim waist, and eye-catching legs blessed with full firm thighs and sleekly tapered calves.

But the attraction was more than physical; there was also something both magnetic and alluring about her bearing. Here was a young woman ... a very young woman ... who simply exuded confidence in the way she carried herself and looked out upon the world. As I watched her approach the dais, I saw something captivating in her eyes … captivating in the way they commanded attention; in the way they spoke of attitude, assuredness and pride. Unlike me, here was someone who never doubted, never needed to ask why.

For a moment my view was disrupted by the members of her team sidling past mine to take their place on the sideline. As the French nun, who like our Hilda was the team’s obvious whipster, passed in front of me I edged out my foot, tripping her and causing her to stumble into the monk in front of her. She turned to look at me, face contorted in surprise and anger, then continued on, glancing back once or twice more.

Sister Kathleen punched me in the shoulder and grinned, before reproaching me with a hissed, "That's not helpful, Barbara!"

Meanwhile, Messaline had stepped right up to the Cardinal, ignoring her Abbess and not waiting for an invitation, and unfastened her royal blue cloak, letting it fall, and haughtily confronting his Eminence straight on, widening her stance, placing hands on hips, and shaking her head and hair in an almost diffident way.

Leaning toward me, Sister Kathleen, whispered in my ear, “See, she is challenging him … not defying him, mind you … she hopes to intrigue him, pull him into her spider’s web, ensure that she is the most central object of his attention … a very clever strategy … she is good!”

Obviously surprised and seemingly uncertain, the Cardinal regarded her closely, his eyes fixated on her shift, which had been carefully altered and arranged so that the cut of the hem drifted down from just below the crown of her left hip to dance lightly over the fullness of her upper thigh on the right, barely masking the tiny white triangle of her loincloth while highlighting the shapeliness of her long legs.

Then his fleshy, pock-marked face broke into a lascivious smile. He rose from his chair, and circled her in his customary fashion, hand stroking his chin as he ogled her. But as he reached out for her, she neatly anticipated his move, shifting her hips to meet his touch, and then brazenly held out her hand for him to kiss!

He stopped, flummoxed, staring at her proffered hand, clearly unaccustomed to anything but silent obsequiousness in his presence. Then he bowed and kissed her hand!

She sniffed, withdrew her hand, reached down to the hem of her shift and lifted it slowly, teasingly, to her chin … then whipped it off over her head with a flourish. Tossing her head and hair again, she looked at him with clear eyes and completed her little performance by slowly reaching down with both hands to slide her loincloth down onto her thighs.

The Cardinal backpedaled, nearly losing his balance, then plopped himself down in his chair, wiped his brow, and then holding his hand aloft and vaguely in her direction, he mumbled his way through the same absolution of sin and blessing rigmarole that he had used on me.

I was sure I detected a smirk or two among his normally stone-faced entourage.

Without a word, Messaline stooped gracefully to gather up her shift and cloak from the floor, threw them over her arm, turned on her heel, and with perfect poise strode purposely and confidently to the back of the chamber, reaching back with a free hand to slide her loincloth back up, first left and then right, over her undulating ass cheeks and gently swaying hips.

I looked at Sister Kathleen, and she at me. “How do you think she did?” I asked.

“We just got beat by a French pro,” Kathleen replied ruefully, “we are going to need to step it up in the next round to keep up with the likes of her.”

Just then, Ethelbert came up behind us and tapped us on our shoulders. “We now know the identity of the other team … I just heard,” he whispered excitedly. "It’s a little known English Abbey, known as Threepwood, and home of the Little Sisters of Perpetual Crucifixion. They are next on his Eminence’s “presentation” agenda. The novice is called Thessala."

TO BE CONTINUED
Click to expand...
Ooooh this is just so much fun!!!! Should be an Olympic sport!!!! More please!!!!!
 
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