Chapter 8

My journey back to AD833 had been for the most part an enjoyable romp with many young nubile females of willing attitudes. It was a fact, however, that I had not been successful in finding a female who was willing to sacrifice herself for me out of true love. It was a fitting outcome because I had spent my adult life in the twentieth century as a wanton slut using men for my personal pleasure and giving them nothing in return except my sexual favors which had no value to me at all.

I most certainly had my fill of the regrets and shame of my past conduct and I was filled with contrition for my transgressions. That sense of recrimination did me no good in my present situation because my search for a suitable female's loving sacrifice was not even close to successful conclusion. The enjoyment of busting open a number of juicy cherries in my role as the lord of the manor was exciting but I realized the necessity of determined control over the female's physical features made them more my fear-laden subjects rather than adoring lovers and loyal partners.

It seemed to me that I was truly on the road to hell because I had no plan to fulfill the requirements set down for my admission into heavenly bliss. I did my best not to transgress against the "Cosmic Design" and all of my peccadillos were understandable expressions of the culture and needs of that time in history.

My Drusilla and Hilda certainly granted all of my kinky requests willingly and with positive attitudes but I knew instinctively that they were only biding their time with little interest in making our coupling a lifetime affair. None of the giggling young things that were sent to me for their deflowerment had expressed undying love or even hinted at a sense of attachment that would save me from my terrible destination.

The time was drawing close for me to conclude the experiment in AD833 and it was beginning to look like the guardians of the gates to paradise had played a cosmic trick on me in giving the semblance of hope.

I was scheduled to visit a place on my manor that was reputed to be the site of a major miracle and drew pilgrims from all over the Continent to view and touch the blessed stones that the "Virgin of the Spring" had stepped on with her sainted feet. It was a good political move because the local peasantry had emotional attachment to the legend and they much appreciated any high-up acknowledgement of the powerful effects of the presence of the site in their region. I had the benefit of hindsight to know that this particular "sight" was not significant in later history with emphasis being placed on more favorably received "miracles" in other locations. Still, it wouldn't hurt to curry some favor with the locals because I was still to a large extent an outsider appointed by the court.

The place was under the authority of a small order of French sisters who had taken vows of poverty and chastity but under the flexible rules of the church both areas were subject to loopholes and different interpretations. I was informed that the convent area was filled with "good" nuns and some "bad" nuns. The "bad" nuns were reputed to be adept in anal sports and they seemed to prefer the company of women over men. Sometimes the "good" nuns were forced to either watch or participate in their depravities but they would quickly go to the priest to get shriven of their sins even if they were guiltless in the inception of the wrong.

During the evening hours of our overnight visit to the shrine, I was invited to a display of the "bad" nun's anal games and I was deep in my cups as the wine produced by the nuns was decidedly superior to the wines at court. I watched intently as one of the nuns took a black laborer's huge cock into her rear portal in a startling display of sphincter stretching rarely seen in such environs.

I was seriously thinking of joining in the festivities since the "bad" nuns seemed extraordinarily receptive to taking cocks all the way up without protest.

The scene became a little chaotic when two young nuns in their sleeping gowns were dragged in by a cohort of "bad" nuns for the participants to exercise their posteriors. I was told that both of the girls were "novitiates" who had not yet taken their vows but that they were both virgins and came from "good families". The one in the front was put over a wooden barrel and her robes were pushed up exposing her bare flanks for the onlookers. An ugly looking blacksmith addressed her flanks and bounced his impressive hardness on her soft female flesh. I was right in front of the girl and saw her lips moving as she recited her prayers praying for forgiveness even though she could not possibly be considered complicit. Her mouth formed a perfect "O" of surprise as she was entered rudely from behind. The laughter was echoing off the walls of the stone basement. Above the sounds of the cackling amusement the nun's mortified whimpers were in unison with the meaty sounds of the blacksmith's muscular legs slamming into her defenseless buttocks.