Editing Sister of Nurgle (section)

==Chapter II==

Apphia stood on the verge of penetration. The head of her "organ of torment" pressed against the witch's anus. She hesitated to savor the anticipation of her upcoming pleasure and the witch's suffering. The anticipation alone was intoxicating. She was in control and at her whim she could brutally punish the Servitor, she was at Apphia's mercy. Apphia ran her fingers across the creamy skin, lightly toying with her sinfully red hair. The depraved thorns of her instrument would brutally rip through her flesh, a favored implement of punishment for the Adepta Sororitas.

A frantic knocking on the door brought her back to the present. It must be important, as her Sisters were under strict orders not to disturb, her unless it was dire; and she would feel little sympathy towards the incompetent fools who dared to disturb her otherwise. She would see to their punishment personally.

“''Come in.''”

Two fully-clad Sisters rushed into her quarters; they stood silent in the face of their superior. They had interrupted her and no comment would be made till Apphia questioned them.

“''Yes?''”

“''Sister Superior! We have to depart immediately. There have been reports of possible warp activity on the far side of the western continent!''”

Apphia sighed.

“''Ready the Sisters then, I will take nine with me. We shall leave in fifteen minutes.''”

She looked longingly at the virgin ass before her but she could enjoy it later. Apphia took off her harness, letting her robes slide to the floor and began to prep her armor. Her Servitor would stay as her mistress left her, on her knees, ready and waiting for Apphia's return. The armor of a Sister was a complex work of art and craftsmanship. Each piece was hand-formed and the amount of detail that went into its creation was astonishing. Symbols of her holy order, the noble Inquisition, purity seals and holy scripts adorned the armor showing her purity. As a Sister rose in rank, her armor grew in detail, the highest Sisters' armor were masterpieces; to look upon them was to see the glory of the Empire before them. The cool armor touched her warm flesh, the crafted armor fitting perfectly with her body.

She exited her rooms and made her way down the stairs on her way to the courtyard.
She did the final clasps and the powered armor fully sealed itself. She normally wore no helmet in battle, but in this hellhole she knew it would serve its purpose. She strode outside, past the lines of the frail sick, coughing and pallid. Nearby she saw the three Valkyries that had just landed and were waiting to carry her to battle. Before them stood nine of her best Sisters and twenty of the local defense force's finest Guardsmen, they were weak and pathetic, expendable amateurs. She walked into the command ship with her Sisters following, quickly strapping herself in, as the flight would take a while.

The long flight gave her mind time to wander.
Punishing the guilty was a pleasure and responsibility as a higher Sister. In the Adepta Sororitas, pleasure was never without pain though. Older Sisters eventually learned how to savor both equally. After they indulged themselves, new Sisters normally would go lightly on the lash, trying to minimize the pain. If they were caught, older Sisters showed them the error of their ways. Apphia had done her fair amount of punishing, but was never overly cruel about it.

She still remembered her first time seeing a public punishment; Apphia had been only a Sister at that time, almost finished with her training. A younger Sister had been overly indulgent in the last few weeks and had been skimping most of her punishment.

All Sisters were allowed to indulge in pleasure, but punishment always followed. Younger Sisters often formed temporary couples or simply participated in the many orgies. The "rules" were fairly lax. Some activities required certain "cleansing rituals", but most were fine. An ever-popular item in these events was a harnessed phallus as Sisters were forbidden the touch of a man. Sisters of the Adepta Sororitas swore to keep themselves pure for the Emperor, and nor were Sisters allowed to engage in activities that would limit their battle effectiveness. In addition, any activity that bore the taint of Chaos was punishable by torture, followed by death. Self-pleasure was somewhat looked down upon, especially when there were other Sisters around to join in, but it was still accepted. Older Sisters were forbidden to join in such orgies; they were supposed to be above such things. However, they "invited" younger Sisters to spend an evening with them. No one refused these offers; as it was a matter of bad taste and dishonoring an older Sister was never a good idea. To face the wrath of one of these Sisters was foolish, as an older Sister reserved the right to punish any younger Sister at the slightest break of tradition.

Once again, she remembered the young Sister who had overindulged herself. Lydia was her name and, from what Apphia had heard, she had refused a direct invitation from Canoness Commander Mara herself. A week later, when the Canoness was in her "red rage", Lydia was found too lightly punishing herself. The enraged Canoness had her bound and carried to the cloister for her punishment.

Mara was an older Sister, head of the small convent. Her body was well muscled and scarred from decades of constant warfare; she was satisfied and her expression showed it. She slowly made her way to the center of the courtyard, knowing each moment would be one of agony and uncertainty for Lydia, serving as prelude to what lay ahead.

The other Sisters had gathered around the courtyard. While in the convent, none wore armor, they were only clad in simple robes; several hundred Sisters trained and all of them were watching.

Lydia was bound, lying naked on the tiles in the blazing midday sun. She was still young, her body shapelier than the normal sister and her muscles not yet coming into full definition. Her normally cheerful and insolent face was wracked in fear and terror at what was going to happen. The faces of the Sisters that surrounded her were mixed; some shone with looks of joy, as they waited for what was coming next. Others wore looks of confusion, sharing with her the same uncertainty of what was to come next.

“''We are here for the punishment of this Sister. She has shown herself to be undevoted to the cause, but we shall give her a chance at redemption.''”

With that, Canoness Mara handed her a flail whip. Seven braided leather extensions flowed from the handle, each ending in a metal stud. The whip was designed to inflict greater pain than that normally caused by self-punishment. A cruel smile split the Canoness’ face.

"''You know what to do.''"

Already sobbing, Lydia grasped the whip and proceeded to punish herself. The strokes were clumsy and no blood was drawn. Noises of disapproval from her fellow Sisters followed each lackluster stroke.

Enraged, the Canoness knocked the whip out of her hand. Her battle-hardened strength was enough to cause the poor Sister to be knocked to the ground, her body smashing against the tiles. Her cries rung out through the cloister.

“''Bring my personal equipment, now!''”

The Canoness’s Servitors woke from dormancy and rushed off to retrieve her personal gear. These poor girls were conscripted from the nearby villages. Taken at a young age they were lobotomized and fitted with machinery so that they better performed their duty.

They returned with several large boxes, each showing the fine craftsmanship that was common in their order. Apphia struggled to get a better look as the crowd shifted restlessly and saw hungry looks of anticipation from some of the older Sisters; but this spectacle was new to her.

Mara lifted a large phallus from the first case. The size was many times bigger than what the other Sisters had ever used on her. There seemed to be some sort of design on the surface, Apphia strained for a better viewpoint. She raised her hand to her mouth (in astonishment). It was not a design; they were spikes, hooks, barbs and blades, irregularly jutting out. This was not toy of pleasure, but a wicked instrument of pain.

When Lydia saw the Canoness's tool, she screamed out and tried to struggle away. Wordlessly the Servitors grabbed hold of her. Her repeated struggles to escape were stopped by the machinery-enhanced muscles.

“''Gag her,''” said Mara as she slipped into the harness.

The second box was brought forth. Mara lifted her personal flail whip out and raised it above her, the inlaid metals catching the sun. From the end extended nine whips, each ending in a wickedly curved spike. Mara gave it a test. With a mighty crack she struck Lydia, her back was sliced open, blood dripping to the flat stones beneath.

“''I will give you one last chance, Sister Lydia, are you truly sorry for your sins?''”

The Servitors removed the gag, Lydia whimpered as she tried to respond.

“''Yes...Mother, I am...truly...sorry for my sins.''”

The sentence seemed to take much out of her and she resumed her sobbing.

“''Good. Then we shall start the healing.''”

A smile shone on Mara's face. Around her the other Sisters were getting excited, they did their best to conceal their pleasure. Though no punishment would be given for them enjoying the spectacle, discretion was always important. The older ones knew what was coming. The younger ones stared on in amazement.

“''Bring the holy promethium.''”

The large chalice was brought forth. Attendant Sisters carried the related items of purity.

Without warning Mara delivered three more strokes to Lydia. Her cries rang out through the convent. Her back was sliced while the sisters of the chalice were sprinkling cleansing drops of the holy promethium on her back. The pain increased and Lydia's screams grew more ragged.

While Lydia was still in shock, with blood weeping from the fresh wounds, Mara grabbed Lydia's firm rear and fully penetrated her womanhood. The brute strength of the Canoness forced the entire phallus in. Lydia screamed out, while the other Sisters watched.

Apphia was entranced by the spectacle unfolding before her, but she noticed some sisters were otherwise getting excited. She herself felt a trembling below; a wet spot began to show on her undergarments. As the blood splashed on to the tiles, Apphia began to appreciate the scene even more. The way Mara's phallus penetrated and ripped into Lydia's flesh was enthralling. Three more strokes of the whip soon followed the penetration, along with another blessing of promethium. It carried on in a similar fashion with the brutality increasing as the floor became slick with blood. Apphia began to notice more and more Sisters having wandering hands as it continued. She herself soon followed suit.

After one hour, Lydia was lying on the ground. She had stopped screaming out in pain long ago and had accepted her fate and only the faint whimpers and constant tears showed her true feelings. Mara smiled. Her older daughters had been aroused by this display and the younger ones had learned the penalty for disobedience. She would have wished to continue this in the dungeons below; where the order had assembled a large and interesting display of punishment tools. They were normally reserved for heretics and witches, but she still saw the look of complete defiance in Lydia's eyes. She would let her heal and wait; Lydia would be broken down. There was no doubt about it.

“''Carry her to the Hospitaller. She needs to recover.''”

The Servitors lifted Lydia's broken and bloodied body off the stained tiles.

Apphia drifted back into the present and leaned back in the seat. Her face flushed under her helmet as the memory of punishment filled her with joy. The engines droned on, it would be a long flight...