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Dawn of Dusk - Part 2: Nun - Chapter 9a: Pilgrimage: Leaving home

© 2009 - 2020 Nameless

Eventually the night ended, but not nearly quickly enough and yet all too soon. I could hear noises in the room above us for a while before the door was finally unbarred and opened. Several gray robes came down the stairs, one of them carried a lamp. The others untied our legs and pointed at the stairs. I struggled to my feet, limbs trembling with fatigue and weakness. I whimpered in pain, my chest hurt as much as it had yesterday and the slightest motion made the wire-like wool rub against it painfully. It was a struggle to climb the stairs with my legs so weak but I managed it.

There were two benches with bowls on them. We were told to kneel there. I almost fell over when I tried to kneel, but a gray robed sister caught me. She whispered in my ear, "Don't do that again. If you spill the food none of you will get anything." The bowl in front of me contained an unpleasant smelling watery gruel.

When we were all in position we we had to lower our faces to the ground while one of the gray sisters said a lengthy prayer, thanking god and the saints for the bounty they had provided for us. Then we were told to eat.

One of the girls complained about the food, but not for long. One of the gray sisters held her and another gagged her. They used a wooden ball with a hole, through which a piece of rope was threaded. They forced the ball into her mouth and tied the rope behind her neck, muffling her protests and screams. Then the left her. The anger quickly faded from her eyes. She stared despondently at the bowl of food in front of her and began to cry.

The food didn't taste any better than it smelled, but I ate it anyway, I was hungry and knew I could not afford to refuse any food. With my paws tied at my back I had to lap it up like an animal. At least with my snout I had a slightly easier time of it than the humans. As bad as the food was, I would have eaten a lot more if it had been offered; I was still very hungry when the bowl was empty so I licked it clean as best as I could.

When everybody had finished eating we were led outside one by one to relieve ourselves. After we returned, we had to kneel in two neat rows and were told to wait. The gray sisters took the bowls away and put the benches back against the wall. One remained to watch us while we waited. We waited for a long while, a bell, if not more. I could hear kitchen noises from the back of the house, so they were probably preparing breakfast for the others. After a while I could hear noises from above us, it sounded as if the people using the rooms above the hall were just now getting up.

We waited some more and finally one of the superior sisters came in, together with several gray robes. Flanked by two gray robes she stood in front of us. She clapped her hands and said, "Now we pray. We will recite the litany of faith. To show humility and to show that they are unworthy, sinners always keep their face pressed to the floor while praying. Do that!" I bent forward, since my arms were still tied at the back, I hit my face on the ground. "Sinners, you speak the responses."

Then she began, "Holy Mother Juanita, show us the way to redeem our sins. Let us cleanse our souls through work and prayer. Guide us to heaven through hardship and pain."

"Holy Mother Juanita guide us."

"Holy Uriel, command us to serve you. Give us work to show our worth. Bless our efforts if you find them pleasing."

"Holy Uriel command us."

"Holy Gabriel, judge our worth. Judge our work and our prayers. If it pleases you, judge us worthy to enter heaven at the end of our days."

"Holy Gabriel judge us."

And so on and on. The list went on and on, asking the blessings and such from the most powerful archangel to the least saint. Less than halfway through I could feel every grain of wood from the floor as it cut into my forehead. After what seemed like an eternity the list was finally done. After a final prayer to Mother Juanita we were told to return to a normal kneeling position. With some difficulty I managed it.

At the superior sister's command, two gray robes urged the girl who had protested about the food to crawl to the superior sister. They forced her head forward, pressing her face down on the sister's feet. After a minute they removed the gag but didn't allow her to lift her head from the floor.

"Sinner, are you sorry you refused to break your fast?"

"Yes, superior sister."

The white sister raised one foot, placed it on the head and ground the face into the floor. After a long moment she returned the foot to the floor. "Try again."

"This worthless sinner is terribly sorry she refused her food."

"Much better. Does such behavior merit correction?"

"Yes, superior sister."

"Do you ask for correction and encouragement?"

"This sinner begs to be encouraged to better herself."

"Good. Ten strokes with the ruler should be enough for the first offense. You count and beg." The gray sisters freed the bottom of the robe from her legs and lifted it, exposing her rear.

Another gray robe brought the ruler (a piece of wood, about four foot long and two wide) and presented it to the superior sister who took it, swished it through the air a few times and took her position next to the unfortunate girl. After a few moments she asked, "Well?"

"This sinner begs for the cane. One, please."

She brought the ruler down hard, the fleshy slap sounded terribly loud. The girl squealed in pain and an angry red welt ran across her buttocks. After a few moments she managed to say, "Two, please." The next fleshy slap was just as loud as the first but the girl managed to keep her scream of pain contained a little better. The last requests for 'encouragement' were all but unintelligible, but she managed to choke them out. When the punishment was done, the gray sisters pulled her robe back down and forced her to sit. My butt cheeks twitched in sympathy, suddenly I was glad to be kneeling, sitting must be hurting her terribly.

The superior sister gave some commands to the gray robes and left. A gray robe approached me, took the flaps of the hood and tied them together, blindfolding me; the same was done to the others. Then we waited some more.

Eventually things began to happen. I heard people walking around the room. Somebody said quietly, "Come." took my right arm and helped me stand up. I was led outside, I could not see much, but I could see the sunlight and feel the difference between the wooden floor and the paved street outside. I had to bend forward until my throat touched a wooden board. My arms were untied and pulled forward until my wrists touched the wood as well. A moment later another piece of wood was lowered onto my neck and arms and I was locked into stocks or, as I soon found out, a kind of yoke. The back of the robe was unlaced, split in two and the two halves were tied together in front of my chest, exposing my back. And the lowest flap in front of my face was untied, giving them access to my mouth. A wooden bit was shoved into my mouth, gagging me.

A minute later the yoke trembled and jerked as another girl was locked into it next to me. Several more sinners were locked into another yoke; I could hear and feel it as that other yoke was somehow connected to ours. After some more waiting a male voice cried, "Forward you mules!" A moment later the bit jerked my head back painfully and I heard the crack of a whip. I set my feet and started pulling. All too soon the whip found my back, leaving a painfully burning strip. Slowly the wagon started moving.

The driver directed us with shouts, jerks of the bridle and the whip as if we were draft animals not people. God's mules, indeed. The wagon we had to pull was heavy and soon I could tell that we were going in a northerly direction. Not because I could see much of anything, but by simple deduction. The land east of the harbor was flat while the northern part of the city was built on a rise and the road we were on was uphill. I could hear the noise of people around us and the shouts of soldiers clearing the way for us.

After a while we reached the Marsh Gate. I felt and heard the change from the paved streets to the wooden drawbridge and then the gravel road outside. The noises of the city faded behind us and I wondered if I would ever see my home or my family again. The first part of the road was easy as it descended from the rise to the flat ground below.

After that it became a lot harder to pull the wagon. And the gravel road hurt my feet as I could not see anything and had no chance to avoid sharp stones or potholes. Unpleasant as it was for me, it must have been a lot worse for my human sisters as the skin on their feet was a lot softer than the leathery pads on mine. And I was used to walking barefoot, while few humans were. I stumbled occasionally but the yoke caught me. My mates stumbled just as often and every time one of them did, I was jerked around; my own stumbles could not have been any more pleasant for them.

I had no idea how many people were in our little procession, but I could hear several soldiers marching ahead of us and horses riding alongside and in front of us. I think there were more people following the wagon, perhaps even a second wagon, but I couldn't be sure.

It wasn't long before I was grateful that the back of my robe was open. Sure, it exposed my back to the whip, but the air was already hot and stuffy, with the back closed it would have been unbearable. The yoke forced me to walk hunched over which was exhausting and hurt my back, but at least that helped to keep the rough fabric away from the wound on my chest. The chastity belt was likely not designed to hurt us, but it didn't fit me all that well and walking chafed the insides of my crotch and thighs badly. When I stumbled badly once and the metal teeth bit into my soft flesh. I could smell blood and feel it trickle down my legs. I thanked the gods that the bleeding seemed to stop after a while.

After an eternity we stopped. I had no idea how long it had been, my best guess would be about two bells, but I was exhausted. The bridle bit was removed and I was allowed to drink from a waterskin. Way too little, barely two mouthfuls. Not nearly enough to quench my thirst, barely enough to take off the worst edge. The bit was replaced quickly. They let us rest for a few minutes and then the cracks of the whip spurred us onward once more.

We trudged on for a long time. It got hotter and hotter and the air got unpleasantly muggy. From the sounds and smells we were on the marsh road and probably already on the causeway. It might have been marginally bearable had I been given enough water to drink. If I could have, I would have drunk gallons in this heat. The driver became dissatisfied with our pace and used the whip more and more. At first this spurred us on a little but it didn't take long until we were all so exhausted we simply couldn't walk any faster, no matter how much encouragement we received. I put one foot in front of the other, to tired even to think.

Eventually a rest was called, we pulled the wagon to the side of the road and stopped. Had I not been locked into the yoke I would have fallen over from exhaustion. The girl next to me was unhitched and a minute later it was my turn. The yoke was opened and I would have fallen had somebody (probably a gray robed sister) not supported me. My hands were tied together at the wrist cuffs before I knew what was happening.

The two led me away from the wagon, told me to kneel and helped me me down. I sank to the floor gratefully, my legs were trembling with fatigue and my feet hurt terribly. I was grateful for the much needed rest, though I would have really needed to drink something. I was very unhappy when the back of the robe was closed and laced up. The robe was way too hot to wear on such a warm day, let alone when working hard. Also the scratchy material hurt the tenderized skin on my back. But I didn't protest, the memory of the girl who had complained about the morning meal was all too fresh in my mind.

Hands clapped and a voice commanded, "You sinners, forward on all four." I did as instructed. Moments later I heard hammering and after a while somebody hammered a peg into the ground between my wrists, fixing my hands in place.

The voice commanded, "Sinners, do not eat until I tell you to." Soon the hood of my robe was unlaced and pulled back. On the ground in front of me stood a bowl. The contents looked more like swamp water than anything edible and didn't smell much better than the marsh. Still, my stomach started to grumble and my mouth watered, or it would have had it not been totally dry.

The wait was pure torture. The soldiers, I counted six of them plus a leader, and the nuns, one white robe with a narrow yellow sash and three gray robes ate their meal. Probably the driver did as well, but I couldn't see him, he must have stayed with the wagon which was behind me. We didn't get permission to eat until they were almost finished. As bad as the watery gruel was and as humiliating the way we had to eat was, I lapped it up with gusto. Even the jeering and abuse the soldiers hurled our way didn't faze me much. As somebody said, hunger is the best cook. The bowl was empty all too soon, long before my hunger and thirst were even close to slacked.

The superior sister clapped her hands and declared, "Time for prayer." I remembered in time that I was supposed to press my face onto the ground for this. Several girls who did not do that on their own were reminded by the gray sisters with a ruler. The superior sister thanked the holy powers for providing a the bounty on which we had feasted. Well, the food she had eaten had no doubt been decent enough, but what we sinners had to eat... most farmers would have not dared to feed that to their swine. Then she began reciting the litany and we had to provide the responses. It seemed that we were in a bit of a hurry, because she cut the litany short halfway through.

The gray sisters began preparing us for the march. First I was allowed to lift my face from the ground so they could lace up the hood. There was a short pause, presumably while they removed the empty bowls (maybe they even cleaned them). Then the peg was pulled out of the ground and I could return to a kneeling position. At last we were led to the wagon. Somebody else had to pull it this time. The cuffs on my wrists were untied for a moment only to be tied to a rope which hung from to a pole sticking out of the side of the wagon.

"Forward, mules!" The whip cracked and the wagon began to move. So, perforce, did I.

On the plus side, I didn't have to pull the wagon and I didn't get feel the whip; on the minus side, my robe was laced up tightly and the heat was unbearable. I had a hard time deciding which was better, or rather, which was less horrible. It didn't take all that long before I was so exhausted it took all my willpower just to set one foot in front of the other. I stumbled once and was dragged along for several paces before I could pull myself up and get back on my feet, hurting my shins badly.

The heat became worse and worse as the day wore on. With my fur I'm somewhat more affected by hot weather than most humans (from what I can tell), but with the heavy woolen robe my fur probably didn't make that much difference. My fur had been itching for a while but that got worse and worse, almost driving me insane.

We rested three times in the afternoon and got more water than in the morning, but I doubt that was because of any sense of mercy but from simple necessity, any less and many of us would have passed out. As it was, I was surprised that I managed to stay on my feet.

The sun was close to setting when we reached the village at the end of the causeway. I couldn't really see much with the flaps of the hood closed but I could at least determine the level of light outside and make out big things like a house at the side of the road. If I moved my head around carefully, I could even catch glimpses of the world around us through the slit between the flaps. But I did not dare to move my head too much as I had felt the whip more than once when I did.

The sounds of the marsh faded and were replaced by those of a village; I could hear people around us, some wondered about our group. From what I could tell, a number of soldiers were patrolling in the street, a necessity given that the celestials had only captured the area a short while ago.

The wagon turned sharply into the yard of an inn and stopped. I heard the soldiers leave, presumably to head towards the taproom. I heard the girls who had pulled the wagon being unhitched and led away. Then came the sounds of hammering. Soon it was my turn, I was untied from the wagon, carried as much as led away. I had to go down on all four and the cuffs around my wrists were affixed to the ground with a peg.

When we sinners were all in position they simply left. Somebody was probably watching us, but I couldn't be sure. The (enforced) rest was welcome, but I was painfully thirsty and hungry. We waited for a long time. I could hear people outside and every now and then somebody walked across the yard. Some of their comments seemed to be directed our way, but apart from that we were ignored. My best guess was that we had to wait until the sisters were finished with their own dinner.

Suddenly I heard the gray sisters walk around me. After a while I felt hands untie the front of my robe. A hand reached inside and I almost screamed when a hand touched the brand on my left breast. She covered the wound with a salve and then tied up the robe once more.

Something was put in front of me and moments later I could smell food. Real food, it smelled wonderful, it might even be warm. My stomach growled desperately, but I had to wait until the hood was untied.

One of the sisters commanded, "Sinners, you do not eat before you get permission. Remember it, from now on this rule is in effect."

After a while my hood was untied and pulled back. In front of me sat a bowl of, well, it looked like a mix of stew and gruel, but it did have some vegetables in it and maybe even a tiny bit of meat. My mouth watered in anticipation but under the watchful gaze of the sisters I didn't dare to start without permission. I was pretty certain I would be punished it if I did, and they would probably take away the food as well.

After a few minutes the superior sister came, stood in front of us and declared, "Now we pray. Give the responses." I groaned but lowered my face to the ground. She began, "Holy Mother Juanita, show us the way to redeem our sins. Let us cleanse our souls through work and prayer. Guide us to heaven through hardship and pain."

"Holy Mother Juanita guide us."

"Holy Uriel, command us to serve you. Give us work to show our worth. Bless our efforts if you find them pleasing."

"Holy Uriel command us."

The litany went on and on. It was pure torture, I was so hungry and my mouth was so dry that speaking hurt and the wonderful smell of food filled my nose. My feet still hurt and my fur itched terribly. But I had to speak, the gray sisters walked among us and used their rulers to 'encourage' anyone who did not,

After the litany was finally over the superior sister thanked God and the saints for the bounty they had provided to us at length before we were finally given permission to eat. By then the sky was almost dark. A single torch provided what little light there was. By now the watery food was cold. As I knew it would be, there was way too little of it and the bowl was empty and licked clean long before my hunger was satisfied.

While we had been eating, they had brought a stool for the superior sister, so she could sit. The gray sisters removed the empty bowls and carried them into the inn. "I am Superior Sister Michelle." One could easily hear the capital letters when she said that and also when the gray sisters addressed her. "It is my duty to accompany you to the cloister where you will you will be instructed and, Saint's willing, prove your worth and become full members of the Holy Order of Mother Juanita. It is my duty to provide spiritual guidance, to teach you the rules of our order, to help you find the road to redemption, to encourage you to better yourself and, when you require it, help you correct your mistakes. You will address me as 'Superior Sister' and you will only speak when given permission. Is that understood?"

I nodded as did the others. When all of us had indicated our understanding, she went on, "As members of the Holy Order of Mother Juanita you have been given the opportunity to serve. Serving her betters is the highest honor a woman can aspire to. Through tireless service can she cleanse her soul of her sins. In your cases the sins are especially heavy. You will be called up to serve in many ways, some pleasant, others not. Do not be discouraged by the later; the more unpleasant or humiliating the services you are asked to provide, the better you can learn by performing them and the more of your sins it will clean off your soiled soul. Your sins have stained your soul deeply, erasing them will be painful. The harder you scrub your skin, the more dirt can you wash off, so it is with your soul. Do you feel honored to have been given this opportunity to serve?"

One of the gray robed sisters standing behind sister Michelle mimicked being hung, reminding us what might happen if we did not pretend to be suitably 'honored'. All of us nodded vigorously. I'm pretty sure I could speak for all of us if I said that none of us really felt honored, but we all felt that admitting it would be a mistake, most likely the last one we would ever make.

"At first you will mostly serve within the order, to learn our rules, of our faith and to prove your faith and worth. Later on you may be asked to serve other masters and to spread the word of our faith. There is one very important rule that you must never forget. When you have served any master who is not part of our order, you do not talk about what you did in his or her service to anyone else. What happens stays between the two of you and the saints and you will take it to your grave. Should you feel the need to gossip about the private doings of any master you served, remember this: you do not need a tongue to serve. Do you understand?"

I nodded, horrified. She let that sink in for a long moment and then went on, "If you feel that you are asked to perform acts of indecency or feel that you are required serve in improper ways, you may inform a superior in the order or a priest and you will be given other duties. But you may only tell him or her that you had to serve in inappropriate ways, you will not tell them any details about your service unless they command you to speak. You will not even talk about your service in a confession. But until you ask for a different duty, you serve your master to the best of your ability. Refusing a task is a grave sin, no matter what is asked. Unless your master asks anything clearly sinful or heretical. But that should never happen as you will only be assigned to serve masters whose faith and piety is beyond reproach."

She went on and on about the supposed 'joys' of serving. I felt like gagging but nodded at the right spots as I didn't want to incur any more unpleasant 'encouragements' than necessary. I mean, really, the best a female can aspire to is to be a good slave for a male? I'd laugh if it wasn't so sad (and if I were not sure that I would receive a harsh punishment for it).

Eventually she finished, most likely more because she wanted to go to bed than because she had run out of material to 'enlighten' us about. "I think that's it for today. Any questions?"

"Senior sister, may I ask something?" Uh-oh. I could tell right away that this was not a good idea. That girl obviously had no experience reading people or situations.

"Yes, or course."

"Will we be allowed to bathe or wash?"

"No. You are god's mules, it will rain on you eventually. If God intended you to be clean, he would have made it so you didn't get dirty. A little grime never hurt anybody."

"If we are mules... even a horse gets rubbed down after a hard day."

"So you want to be rubbed down?"

"Um... yes." A little too late she seemed to realize that this might not have been a good idea.

"Very well." Sister Michelle turned to the gray robed sisters and gave them instructions in a voice that was too low to overhear. Two of them went to free the stupid girl and escort her to the superior sister. The third one had fetched a rope from the wagon, which was tied to the rings on her wrist cuffs. They threw the rope over a supporting beam that came out of the wall not far from the torch and pulled her arms up until she stood almost on tiptoes. They tied the rope off.

They had also fetched another pillory like board, this one about three foot long, which they locked around her ankles, forcing her legs apart. They untied the belt, rolled up the robe and tied it up around her neck, leaving her completely naked.

Two of the gray sisters began to brush her down with the stiff brushes normally intended for horses. She gasped, begged for mercy and then screamed when her breasts were assaulted by the rough bristles. The third gray sister must have waited for just that. As soon as she opened her mouth wide a gag was shoved into it and tied around her neck. We watched in horror as the two 'brushed' her and her muffled screams filled our ears. At some point I realized that several soldiers had entered the yard earlier and were enjoying the spectacle. And the view of her bare backside.

The two worked her over for a long time. They paid especially close attention to the sensitive spot between her legs and the insides of her thighs; and the breasts, of course. When they were done her skin was crisscrossed by bright red lines, or rather, there were the occasional small spots where it was not bright red. I could smell blood. After a while her muffled screams had become pained wheezes and then even that had stopped. She hung limp, passed out from pain or close to it.

They untied her robe and tied it around her body once more. He feeble protests were ignored, of course. I didn't even want to know how painful the rough fabric would feel on her tortured skin. They let her down, two of them had to drag her back to her place where they lowered her into a kneeling position.

"Does anybody else want to be brushed down?" We all shook our heads vigorously. "Then we will pray and then you mules can sleep in the stable. Or does any of you desire better lodging?" Again we shook our heads. The prayer was thankfully short. Then she left, leaving us in the care of her underlinings.

They freed three girls, hiked up the bottom of their robes, took them to the midden heap to relieve themselves and them escorted them to the stable. A few minutes later they repeated this with the next three girls. I was in the third group. In the stable I saw the girls lying there, three in each stall. The ropes that connected their wrists were tied to the a big ring in back of the stall.

They pulled the hood over my head and tied the flaps closed. We had to crawl into the stall and they tied the rope to the wall. The rope was so short that my arms hung in the air. They also pulled the strap at the bottom of the robe tight, tying my ankles together.

Once they had left, I snuggled up to the girl in the middle. The day had been hot, but the air had cooled considerably since then and the ground in the stall was hard, cold and damp. There was hardly any straw on the ground and what little was there smelled unpleasant. I could not find a comfortable position in the cramped stall but I was so exhausted that I fell asleep quickly anyway.

I was woken by a kick in the rear; not a really hard kick, but enough to hurt and to wake me instantly. I was cold and my whole body hurt from sleeping in this cramped position. My neck was stiff and hurt. I groaned in protest and pain, from the sounds around me the others were not much better off. The girls from the first stall were led outside.

Soon it was our turn. My legs were untied, the handcuff was untied from the wall and we were told to stand up. They hiked up our robes and led us to the midden heap to relieve ourselves. As far as I could tell, it was still dark. Then we had to go down on all four in the yard. The cuffs on my wrists were affixed to the ground with a peg and my ankles were tied together. I did my best to work the kinks out of my cramped muscles but I didn't dare to move too much. Soon we were all assembled and then we had to wait for a long while.

They brought our breakfast. Bowls with lukewarm gruel were placed in front of us, at least the food smelled much better what we had received the day before. Our hoods were untied and pulled back only so we could grind our faces into the ground while one of the sisters said a lengthy prayer. Then we finally got permission to lap up the watery gruel. It tasted better than what we received before, not by much, but I was too hungry and thirsty not to lick up every last bit.

When I was finished a gray sister closed the flaps of my hood once more and removed the bowl. Again we had to wait for a long time until the superior sister had woken and broken her fast. Eventually she entered the yard for the morning prayer. My hood was untied and pulled back just so I would get my face instead of the robe dirty during the prayer.

"Holy Mother Juanita, show us the way to redeem our sins. Let us cleanse our souls through work and prayer. Guide us to heaven through hardship and pain."

"Holy Mother Juanita guide us."

"Holy Uriel, command us to serve you. Give us work to show our worth. Bless our efforts if you find them pleasing."

"Holy Uriel command us."

The by now familiar litany went on and on.

When it was finally done, we were blindfolded once more. After a short wait we were hitched to the wagon. I was tied to the yoke and the back of my robe opened up. A few minutes later we were ready. "Forward, mules!" The whip cracked and I put my shoulders to the yoke. We left the stable yard, turned into the main road and soon left the village behind. At first I was cold but now that the sun was up the temperature rose quickly. The exertion warmed me as well, so it didn't take long before I started to sweat (that is my paws and feet, I don't sweat much where my skin is covered by fur). My fur began itching worse than the day before. The wound on my chest still hurt, but less than it had the day before.

Apart from the fact that we crossed open farmland and passed the occasional village the day went much like the day before. After a short rest mid-morning we continued until noon. We were fed and changed places; after the noon rest I walked next to the wagon once again.

It was late afternoon when we crossed the bridge over the river that defined the border between Irnqua and Tukis. At least usually, for now the Tukans had conquered this area. I could hear that from the soldiers, they sounded relieved to be back home. On the other side of the bridge was a small town where we stopped for the day.

I could not see much, but I remembered a lot from the tales of the travelers who had stopped at our inn. Since most merchants passing through Savan took this road I had heard it described many times. The river was the traditional boundary, but occasionally the Tukans would invade and try to annex the land between the river and the marsh. So far they had been kicked out every time. Further north of the river were mountains. The mountains were likely the reason for the early stop, there was little point in starting up the pass so late in the day.

The wagon turned into the yard of another inn and stopped. We were unhitched and staked out in the yard, much as before. After a short wait our blindfolds were removed so we could pray with the superior sister. After the seemingly endless litany she gave another long speech about our duty to serve. I nodded at the right places. One point she was insistent about was the need to serve willingly and the need to prove that willingness by serving whenever the opportunity presented itself.

When she was done we were given a cup of water and then we were blindfolded once more. After a while one of the sisters pulled up my robe for a moment and put some healing salve on the brand.

I was tired and exhausted, but not quite as much as I had been the day before, mostly because had stopped so early. I had a lot of time to think while I waited. About Dar, about my desire for revenge and such matters. The very idea of volunteering to serve as little more than a slave was anathema to me. But, as I thought about it, I realized that I might have to do just that. Quite obviously they did not trust us to behave and kept us well under control, tied up continuously and blindfolded most of the time. Unless and until I advanced through the ranks far enough to be allowed to serve without continuous supervision I would likely not find a chance to escape.

So, as distasteful as I found it, I decided that I had no choice but to pretend to become their perfect little toy and volunteer for extra duties no matter how unpleasant. The fact that I was a fur would not make gaining their trust any easier. They had not said anything about it, but I had yet to meet a supporter of the celestials who didn't consider us to be less than humans, liable to give in to our animal nature and perform sinful acts. Advancing though the ranks would be an uphill struggle.

I had a long time to think about this. Then the gray sisters were back and untied the top flap of my hood, so I could see out through the narrow slit; they did the same to the others as well. A few minutes later the sister Michelle stood in front of us and declared, "I need one volunteer." No other explanation, no idea what was required of us.

In the sudden silence my heart pounded thunderously. On the second try I managed to say, "This sinner wishes to serve."

"Who?"

I nodded, "This sinner wishes to serve, superior sister."

She looked at me and gestured. One of the gray sisters pulled the peg out of the ground and loosened the strap around my ankles enough so I could get up with her assistance. With small mincing steps, the strap didn't allow more, I approached the superior sister.

She untied the flaps and pushed my hood back. I think she was a bit surprised to see a fur, not a human. Of course, had she paid attention before, she might have seen my paws or feet. She considered me for a long moment and asked once more, "You wish to serve?"

"This sinner wishes to serve."

"Very well." She turned to the gray sister and said, "I have my volunteer." We waited while they blindfolded the others again. While the gray sisters blindfolded the other sinners, sister Michelle put my hood back up and closed the lower flaps, leaving me a narrow slit to look out of. She tied the short rope that connected my handcuffs around the ring on the belt of my robe.

She tied a short rope to the metal ring at the front of my collar, using it as a leash. She turned slowly and began walking back towards the inn, and I followed her. Thankfully she walked slowly, so I could keep up. Hobbled by the rope woven into the hem of the robe I could only make very short steps. Climbing up the stairs was torturous, I could barely move my feet high enough to climb the steps, even so it took two steps for each stair. Had my feet been restricted any further I would have had to try hopping to get up a stair.

She unlocked the door of her room and we entered. She closed the door again, led me to the corner and told me to stand there, facing the walls. She rummaged around the room. While she did, she gave me instructions, "Sinner, we are going to visit Master Gabe, a merchant and a man of great piety. He is an important pillar of the community and has aided our order on occasion. You may be asked to serve him while we are there. You will do whatever he asks of you. Doing any less would be considered a great sin. Do you understand?"

I nodded, "This sinner understands and will do anything that is asked of her." Call me cynical, but I thought that I had a very good idea what was going to be asked of me.

"You will not speak about it to anybody afterwards. What you do when you are called to serve is between you, your master and the saints. Treat it with the same confidentiality as if you were a priest and took his confession. Do you understood?"

"This sinner understands, Superior Sister." Then I quoted her speech from the day before, "The wagging tongue goes to hell. If it is not cut free it will drag her owner down with it." If I had to treat it as a confession, the penalty for speaking would be severe enough that I didn't even want to think about it.

"Very good. Do not forget." She added, "You will address him as 'master' while you serve." A few minutes later she was ready and we left the room. Climbing down the stairs was even worse than ascending them had been. Somehow I managed it without breaking my neck. At least sister Michelle seemed to understand that I could not move any faster and she didn't try to hurry me too much. But she didn't try to help me either, even though I could have managed the stairs a lot faster with just a little help.

When we exited the inn we were joined by one of the gray sisters and a soldier. Sister Michelle handed the leash to the gray robe. The soldier offered her his arm and they started walking. The gray sister followed and I struggled to keep up. We walked down the road to the town center and turned into a smaller side road. Along the way the superior sister greeted and blessed several passersby. Eventually we reached the house. It stood on top of a small hill and was surrounded by a high wall. The house was more a mansion than a simple house. Whoever this 'Master Gabe' was, he was obviously a very wealthy man.

A servant opened the gate only moments after the soldier knocked; he must have been waiting there. We entered and walked down the short tiled path to the house. I struggled up the stairs and another servant opened the door for us. We passed through a small antechamber, wiped our feet (or shoes) on a doormat and passed through a second door. The entrance hall was large, two stories high and lavishly decorated. The doorknobs and the handrails of the staircase were covered with gold and colorful stones.

I had never seen its like, at least not in a private home. The house seemed like something out of a story. I had visited most of the beautiful temples in Savan and the big merchant guild hall, which was lavishly decorated. The baron's castle likely had a hall like this as well, but a normal citizen rarely got to visit that. Soft carpets covered the floor and tapestries covered the walls.

A servant entered from a side door. The gray sister handed the leash back to sister Michelle and then she and the soldier followed the servant. A minute later the master of the house descended the staircase in the company of a female, his wife as I soon learned. They both wore fine and obviously expensive clothes. Hers, while made of fine cloth, looked almost like the robes of the superior sister. On a chain she wore the symbol of Anita, a pair of cherries. As far as I could tell they were made of colored glass or maybe even precious stones. As best as I could tell, the wife, while not young any more, was quite a bit younger than her husband. She had likely been very beautiful in her youth. The husband was fat, old and rather ugly. Even the finest clothing could do little to change that.

They greeted Sister Michelle warmly, they had obviously met her before. They mostly ignored me, apart from looking in my direction for a few moments, the wife with distaste and the husband with rather poorly hidden lust. Master Gabe offered his arm to the sister and they ascended the stairs. He left his wife behind to follow with me. I struggled up the stairs, almost tripping several times, she pulled at the leash continuously to try and make me move faster but she did not help me in any way.

At the top of the stairs we walked down a richly decorated corridor and entered a room that was, if anything, still more richly decorated. Master Gabe sat in an upholstered chair. It looked positively, even sinfully, comfortable. There were several more such chairs in the room, but sister Michelle sat facing our host on a simple wooden stool. The wife left me standing behind the superior sister and sat down next to her husband on another simple stool.

They chatted for a while, sister Michelle told him about her trip and the new recruits, by which she meant us. I just watched them in silence. I got the feeling that our host was not particularly interested in the conversation, but that he chatted with my superior because it was expected of him. Unless I read him completely wrong he couldn't wait for her to leave so he could get to the what he was really interested in: me. And from expression on her face, his wife knew it as well. He drank wine while the two women drank water.

Eventually the superior sister came to the heart of the matter. She complimented him on his piety and told him about some additions they hoped to be able to make to the temple at their cloister. Then she asked him to instruct me on the joys of serving as a follower of Mother Juanita. Of course he agreed. He could hardly contain his impatience while they talked a bit more and then the two women left to visit the chapel and pray.

When the door had closed behind them, he motioned for me to approach. At his urging I walked forward until my shins touched the chair he sat in. He undid the flaps and pushed back the hood. He studied my face for a moment. This close I could smell his excitement rising. Apart from that he smelled very unpleasant. Like many followers of the celestials I had met he seemed to wash or bathe only rarely and preferred to use a lot of perfume to cover up the stench. Suddenly I was almost glad that my stomach was empty.

"What are you?"

"A gray squirrel, master."

"Nice." From his tone he didn't really care about it all that much. He had asked out of idle curiosity. He felt up my body, squeezing my rear and breasts. I hissed in pain when his fingers dug into the wound on my left breast. He seemed a little disappointed by my less than ample bosom. "Why did you join the sisters?"

After a moment's thought I decided not to tell the real truth, "I was a slut and a whore, lifting my tail for any interested male. I was offered the chance to join the sisters to redeem myself."

"A slut, he-he. So you like to feel a male inside you."

"Yes, master." I lowered my head, pretending to be ashamed.

"And you want to save your soul? Do you wish to be taught the errors of your sinful ways?"

"Yes, master."

"Very good." He stood up and I stepped back. He pointed at the stool where his wife had sat and commanded, "Kneel there. I'll help you." He held my arms to steady me while I climbed on the stool and knelt on it. With my feet restrained it was difficult and I hurt my shins. I only had to kneel there for a few moments so he could loosen the strap that restrained my feet without having to bend down.

"Follow me." He took the leash and I followed him out of the room. We walked down the corridor to a small staircase (probably normally used by the servants). We went down to the main floor where he took a glow-stone and lit it. We went down another level to the cellar. At the end of the short corridor was a heavy wooden door which he unlocked. We entered the room behind it. It was mostly empty but, unlike the corridor, had a wooden floor.

It was obviously a 'play-room': there was a sturdy oaken table with several attachment points to which a rope could be tied. Chains and ropes hung from the ceiling and there were shelves with coiled ropes, whips and various leather items. There was a closed cupboard containing, most likely, similar items. He locked and barred the door behind us and turned to me.

"Hm-mm, how shall we punish you? A slut and a whore... Well?" He looked at me questioningly.

"This sinner has no idea, Master. Please guide her."

"Let's see what you have." He motioned me closer. When I stood before him, he hiked up the hem of the robe and pulled it up until he could tie the rope that usually hobbled my feet to the collar, exposing my body below the belt. He touched my shoulders, indicating that I should turn around, so I did. His hands squeezed my bare buttocks, "Hm-mm," he sounded pleased. After a few minutes he added, "That ass just begs to be spanked. Don't you think so, my pretty?"

"Yes, Master."

He continued squeezing my buttocks and thighs for a few minutes. While I found him rather unpleasant, and his fingers hurt, the attention did arouse me somewhat. I did not try to fight it; for one whatever he planned for me would be easier to bear if I enjoyed it, even if only a little, and second, someone like him usually enjoyed wringing arousal, if not actual pleasure, from the female. If he expected and wanted me to be a slut, so he could feel superior to me, let him.

He stopped feeling me up and began to prepare me for his pleasure. He turned me back to face him and untied the rope that connected my handcuff to the belt. He had me turn around and lift my arms to my neck and tied the cuffs around my wrists to the ring at the back of the collar. He untied the flaps of the hood and pushed the hood back. "Stand there, facing the table." I walked forward until I my thighs rested against the middle of the longer side of the table.

"Lift your left leg and rest the foot on the table." I did and he fastened a leather cuff around the ankle (he tied it closed with the end of a rope that disappeared under the table) and then I put the foot back on the floor. We repeated this for the right leg. He walked to the short side of the table, pulled up a stool and sat down. He reached under the table and began turning a crank. The ropes tied to the ankle cuffs tightened and pulled my legs forward and apart, mostly to the side. He didn't stop until my feet were at least five foot apart. The muscles on the inside of my thighs were beginning to strain unpleasantly.

He stood up and came to stand in front of me, "Lie on the table." I bent forward until my body rested on the table. He tied the leash to the table, leaving me completely helpless. He pulled the hood over my head, practically blindfolding me. I heard him walk around the table until he stood next to my exposed rear. He spent the next few minutes feeling up my buttocks and thighs. His hand slid between my legs, but it didn't try to enter my slit, I was still wearing the chastity belt and he likely didn't want to risk hurting his finger on the sharp metal teeth. "Dripping wet. You really are a slut, aren't you?"

"Yes, master." I did my best to sound humiliated, rather than angry, which I was.

"Well, well. We'll get you back on the straight and narrow in no time. You may ask for it now. Count and beg. Stop when you feel that you have learned your lesson."

Uh-oh. It's never a good idea when you have to decide when to stop, too early, at least for him, and he'll find a reason to turn it against you, so you usually have to go much further than necessary. No help for it, now, of course. "Yes, master. Punish this sinner, please. One, please." His hand came down on hard my left cheek and I grunted in pain.

"Two, please." The hand came down on the right cheek. "Three, please." And so on. Soon my rump and thighs were burning. Thankfully the individual strokes were not all that painful, at least compared to those of a cane, but the pain added up and my skin got more sensitive with every spank.

"Fifty, please." I was panting and beginning to be a little dizzy from the pain and heat. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves and asked, "Please guide this sinner, master. Is this enough to punish such a worthless slut?"

He considered this for a moment. "Ten more should do it."

"Yes, master. Thank you. Fifty-one, please." And then we were finally done. I forced myself to say, "Thank you, master. This worthless slut thanks you for guiding her back to the true way."

He stepped around to my head, pushed back the hood. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. I couldn't see him clearly as my eyes were full of tears. I did notice that he had put on leather gloves, likely so he could spank me hard without straining the skin on his hands. "Well, my pet, are you thirsty?"

With his crotch only inches from my head and his other hand on his belt it took me only moments to figure out what he meant. Yuck! At first I wanted to refuse, but then I thought better of it. One, he seemed to want to do this and I was in no position to refuse him if he insisted. Second, I really was very thirsty, more like scorched dry. Assuming the sisters wouldn't suddenly give us a lot more to drink I couldn't afford to refuse any drop of liquid if I wanted to survive the next few days. "Yes, master, This slut is very thirsty."

He fetched something from the shelf and held it in front of my face. "Open your mouth." It was a metal ring about two inches across with several leather straps connected to it. I opened my mouth obediently and he shoved the ring between my teeth. One of the straps went behind my neck, one under my chin and the third over my snout. He pulled them uncomfortably tight. The whole thing didn't fit my head all that well, but it was obviously designed for somebody with a snout (the strap at the top was not long enough that it could have gone over the head of a human). When the ring gag was securely fastened in place, he pulled the hood over my head and tied the upper flaps closed, leaving just the lower flap open to give him access to my mouth.

I heard my master undo the belt and a few moments later his male sword, well, dagger at best, was shoved into my mouth. He tasted and smelled so bad I almost gagged. I was actually relieved when he started to piss down my throat. It didn't taste good, but compared to the rest of his male parts... at least it was fresh. Bad as it tasted, I actually felt better after drinking. Most of my thirst had been slacked.

He pulled out of my mouth and commanded, "Lick." I did as instructed. Yuck! I tried to cover his slowly growing sword with as much spit as I could. I didn't know what other plans he had for me, but considering the position I was in (tied across the table with my ass high in the air) and the fact that the chastity belt made using my flower unlikely (unless he knew a spell to unlock the belt) I tried to take as few chances as possible. When he was hard, he shoved a piece of wood, or whatever it was, it had no taste I could determine, into my mouth. I felt a brief flash of heat from the ring and the cock-shaped item seemed to meld with it.

While I tried to figure out what he had used to gag me, he had walked around the table. I felt his hands on my hips. A moment later the tip of his cock touched my tailhole. I screamed in pain when he forced himself into me. As he began pumping in and out of me, my muscles relaxed quickly and the pain receded. At least he wasn't all that big or I might have shat blood for days. But my ass and hips began to hurt terribly, the ass because it was still tender from the earlier spanking and the hips because they were slammed into the hard wood of the table with every thrust.

I was completely helpless. The way he had tied me to the table didn't even allow me to brace myself. I could barely move my head let alone any other part of my body. In spite of the pain, my helplessness and the feeling of male flesh inside me aroused me. Though not nearly enough to enjoy myself. I felt him shoot his load up my rear long before I would have been ready to come. He pulled out, wiped his stick on my rear and thighs a few times and walked around the table once more.

He pulled the gag out of my muzzle and shoved his soiled stick into me. The taste gagged me and I tasted bile rise up my throat, had there been anything in my stomach, I would have puked. "Clean me." Distasteful as it was, I had little choice but to obey; not doing so would simply prolong the issue and would most likely incur extra punishment. I had to force myself to touch my tongue to the soiled stick in my mouth.

I felt wrung out and not the good kind of wrung out. My whole body seemed to hurt. Eventually he was satisfied with my attempts to lick him clean and he pulled his (now a little less) stinky stick out of my mouth. He buttoned up his breeches, then he untied the leash from the table and told me to stand up. It hurt to move, especially all the muscles from my belly to my back and down to the knees hurt from the strain. Still, after a few tries I managed to get upright. I almost overbalanced and fell on my back, somehow I managed to catch myself.

My master released the crank and I could move my legs back together at last. He untied the handcuff from the back of my neck, let me lower my hands and tied them to the belt once more. He opened the flaps of my hood long enough to remove the ring gag and then closed them once more, this time leaving me a slit to see. At his command I lifted first one and then the other leg up on the table so he could remove the leather cuffs. He gave my tortured buttocks a last squeeze and then untied the hem of the robe from the collar and let it drop down to cover my lower body once more.

My master took the end of the leash, unbarred and unlocked the door and led me up the stairs. Luckily he had not bothered (remembered, or more likely, been too lazy) to tighten the strap around my legs. As weak as I felt, I don't know if I would have been able to climb the stairs with my legs restrained. We went up to the upper floor and into the bedroom. I had to stand in the corner, facing the wall while he cleaned himself up a little more and changed his clothes. I would have killed for a bit of water to rinse out my mouth, but I didn't dare to ask.

I hear my master ring a bell. A few moments later the door opened and somebody entered and asked, "Yes, Sir? What do you require?"

"Is the dinner ready?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Inform my wife and our guest that we shall eat in ten minutes. This pelt can serve as the tray today, John."

"Yes, my lord." The servant took my leash and commanded, "Come." John was a middle aged human, in fine clothes. He seemed to be the butler or such. I followed him downstairs and along a narrow corridor to the kitchen. Once in the kitchen he released my leash. He clapped his hands and announced, "The master wishes dinner to start in a few minutes. Miffa, this sinner will serve as tray today, get her ready." The last was addressed at a female feline who was sitting on the lap of the soldier who had accompanied us. Apart from her there were two more servants, a dog and a weasel, both young and female, who were busy with cooking.

The feline away put the spoon she had been holding and stood up. "Yes, sir." The butler left without another word, presumably to find the wife. The feline approached me, sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "You visited the cellar with the master." It wasn't really a question, but I nodded. This close I could smell the scents of sex on her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had entertained the soldier only recently.

She untied my wrists from the belt and then she filled a wooden cup from a jug of water and handed it to me. She pointed at a bucket, "You can spit the water in there." From that it wasn't difficult to tell that her (inofficial) duties required her to visit that cellar room with her master. Likely the other two shared that unpleasant duty, all three female furs were young and attractive.

I whispered, "Thank you." and went where she had directed me. I rinsed my mouth twice, spitting out the water and drank the rest.

"Come." She led me outside, down the narrow corridor and out of the house. She pointed at the outhouse and I used it. Then we returned to the kitchen.

She instructed, "Hold your arms like this." I mirrored her stance, holding my arms with the palms up. She placed a large tray on my arms and paws. "Can you carry that with food on it without spilling anything?"

I nodded. When she looked a bit dubious, I explained, "I was a tavern wench until I had to join the sisters."

"That's good. The master gets really angry if we spill his food. If you do, he'll probably ask the sisters be allowed to punish you. Do you want to spend the whole night in the cellar?" I shook my head. She gave me a wan smile and placed the water jug on the tray, "Walk around the table." I did as instructed. She seemed pleased and removed first the jug and then the tray. "No need to tire you any more than needed, you will have to hold the tray for a long time."

We waited for a few minutes until the butler poked his head into the kitchen and commanded, "Bring the soup." The female put the tray on my arms and a covered bowl and a basket with white bread on the tray. The bowl was made of gleaming metal, maybe even silver, and looked really expensive. I followed the butler down the narrow passage to the dinning room. At the long table sat just three persons, the master at the head with the wife and sister Michelle flanking him. I had to stand holding the tray while the butler ladled out the soup. Then I had to step back and wait while they ate, in case any of them should want seconds.

The wonderful smell of the food filled my nose, making my stomach rumble in protest. I had not eaten since noon and even then I received so little food I had been still been hungry when I finished that scant meal. Standing there with the smell in my nose was pure torture. After a while I was sent back to the kitchen to bring the next course. They let me rest my arms for a few moments before the tray was placed on them once more and I returned to the dining room. The dinner seemed to last forever and my stomach felt like an angry empty hole.

I brought the deserts and the butler served them. Then, to my surprise, he put the plates with the rest of the deserts on a small side table and dismissed me to the kitchen. Having finished their work, the servants were eating. The soldier and the gray sister, who had come to the kitchen once dinner started, had eaten before. Miffa, the feline, who seemed to be the leader among the furs, got up, removed the tray from my tired hands (I'm used to serving food, but standing with my arms motionless for more than a bell with barely minutes of rest had been extremely unpleasant). She pointed at an empty place at the table, "Sit." She placed a bowl, cup and spoon in front of me. She undid the flaps and pulled back my hood and sat down.

The weasel filled the bowl with stew and poured water into the cup. Miffa looked at me and said, "Eat." I smiled and nodded to them, trying to show my gratitude without speaking. I noticed the gray sister looking at me. I bowed my head and murmured nonsense, pretending to pray, that seemed to please her. Then I picked up the spoon and began to eat. The stew was quite good, easily superior to anything I had eaten in the last few days. Maybe stew was not exactly correct, at least it had not started out as a stew. The servants had taken the leftover soup, chopped up the other leftovers and mixed everything up. It tasted a little weird, as the various courses had been spiced very differently, but it was tasty enough.

The weasel refilled the cup before it was empty. When the bowl was empty, she asked if I wanted more. I looked at the gray sister, unsure if I dared to ask for more. The weasel noticed the byplay and refilled the bowl without waiting for an answer. The gray sister didn't look happy about it, but she couldn't well stop me, just today the superior sister had said that it was a sin to refuse the bounty one was given. When the bowl was empty again, I refused a third refill, which seemed to please the gray sister. My stomach felt full for the first time in what felt like forever. I could have eaten more, but I didn't want to provoke them, after all, they could easily cut my rations tomorrow if they thought I had eaten too much today.

The butler poked his head in and announced that it was time for us to leave. The gray sister pulled the hood over my head and closed the flaps, leaving me just a slit to look out of. She tied my wrists to the belt and then she took hold of the leash and we left the kitchen.

In the entrance hall we met our hosts and sister Michelle, "Ah, there they are. Sister Michelle, I must say it was a real pleasure to instruct this poor sinner and guide on the way to salvation." Yeah, right.

"Saints be praised. I thank you for your selfless efforts to support the faith."

"It's my duty and my pleasure, sister. I heard you will be passing through Marenbruk."

"Yes, my lord."

He pulled a folded and sealed paper out of a pocket and offered it to sister Michelle, "Then I had a small request: could you deliver this to my factor in Marenbruk."

She smiled, bowed and took the offered paper, "Of course, my lord."

"Thank you. And now I must bid you good night." They said their farewells and we left. The soldier carried a torch to light the way.

On the way back I wondered at the business with the letter. After a bit the coin dropped. "Andariel's tits!" I could hardly believe it, behind all the piety (or the facade thereof) they followed Andariel: Sister Michelle might pretend not to know what I had done when I was alone with this Master Gabe, but I doubted that she was this stupid. They had sold my services to him. Neither of them had touched any money, but I would have bet my tail that the letter contained instructions to pay them in some way.

We returned to the inn, where the other sinners were still waiting out in the yard. Sister Michelle led me to the front of the rows of kneeling sinners. Our hoods were pulled back. She turned to me and said, "Sinner, you have served well today. This token will indicated this, displaying for all that you have started on the road to redemption." She held up a tiny patch of white material. She touched the patch to my breast below the symbol of Mother Juanita and murmured a short prayer. I grunted in pain, suddenly the spot burned almost as bad as the brand had but the pain faded in moments.

"Return to your sisters now." A gray robe led me to the end of the first row, untied my wrists from the belt. I knelt and she hammered a peg into the ground and tied my wrists to that.

"Now we pray." I lowered my face to the ground and we went through the familiar liturgy. Then it was time for us to sleep. We were led to the midden heap and then to the stable. Just like the day before, we had to sleep in the stalls, three girls in each stall.

I got to sleep in the middle, which was considerably warmer as there were warm bodies on both sides of me. Otherwise it was just as uncomfortable as the day before. It took me a while to fall asleep since I was not as exhausted as I had been the day before.

The next day began much like the one before. We were woken with a kick and led outside to relieve ourselves. Then we were staked down in the yard and a bowl with watery gruel was placed under our nose. It was surprisingly full. We had to wait until the lengthy morning prayer was complete before we were allowed to eat. Then we waited a while more until it was time to start out.

From what I could tell, we started out earlier than the day before. I was locked into the yoke and a short while later the driver cracked his whip and I put my back into it and the wagon creaked forward. Once again the chill that had settled in my bones during the night was quickly dispelled by the exertion of pulling the heavy wagon. The work soon became a lot harder than it had been up to now. Almost as soon as we left the city proper the road began to go uphill. I did not think that the road was very steep, but even a gentle incline made the wagon a lot harder to pull.

The driver allowed us to walk a little slower than before, but not much and soon he became quite liberal in the use of the whip to keep us moving. They did allow us to rest more frequently, perhaps once every bell, and we received a bit of water during every rest, but even that was barely enough to keep us from passing out.

Our pace slowed as we became more exhausted and the road became steeper. I doubt that I was the only one who had to be carried as much as led to my assigned place when we were released from the yoke for the midday break. The gruel we received was just as bad as it had been before, but there was more of it. I doubted that this was from any kind of mercy, but a necessity to keep us from passing out from hunger.

The break was over much too soon and we changed places with the other slaves so I got to walk after the wagon now. But not for long. The road became steeper and steeper, curved more and then the curves were replaced by switchbacks. During the first break my paws were cuffed behind my back and the rear of my robe opened.

After that I had to help pull the wagon. The gray sisters watched us and made sure the rope between my cuffs and the wagon was taut. Whenever it was not taut enough to suit them I (and the others around me) got to feel the ruler until we pulled hard enough.

The rest of the afternoon soon became a haze of exhaustion. The rests became more and more frequent, but even with those I was surprised that I managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other without passing out.

As best as I could tell, it was late afternoon when we reached the apex of the pass and a short while later the inn. We pulled the wagon into a shed and then we were unhitched, given a bit of water and then staked down in the yard. My whole body hurt and my limbs trembled with exhaustion.

They left us alone for a while (though I was sure someone was watching us) and then a gray sister (they switched off every now and then) led us in prayer and we had to recite the litany twice. And then Superior Sister Michelle (presumably after having refreshed herself) gave us another long sermon on the joys of service and to teach and remind us about our duties. Most of it was a repeat from before, but every now and then we learned new things.

After that we received a little water and had to recite the litany yet again. By now the sun was close to setting and then we were finally fed. Like before we had to suffer through a lengthy prayer before we got permission to eat. Then we had to recite the litany for a fourth time before we were allowed to use the facilities (such as they were) and then we were taken to the stable for the night.

It was still rather early, the sun was definitely still up, but I was so exhausted that I fell asleep quickly.