Purity had been at St Katarina’s, the exclusive finishing school in the Swiss Alps, for two weeks and she was aged just 18 when her classmates began to talk about the Ritual.
Purity had been at St Katarina’s, the exclusive finishing school in the Swiss Alps, for two weeks and she was aged just 18 when her classmates began to talk about the Ritual. The house had originally been built as the private mansion of Guner Von Bang, a German arms manufacturer, and he was reputed to have a number of rather esoteric leisure interests which he indulged in his large basement. The Ritual was an ordeal undergone by every new girl to prove her worth and it involved spending an extended time down in the dark, dank basement.
So, just after breakfast, one Saturday morning, Purity and some other girls sneaked through the low, arched door which led to the spiral staircase leading down into the depths. One girl was carrying a sports bag and Purity had been told that, in order to pass the Ritual, she needed to show total obedience to whatever instructions she was given.
The cellar had worn flagstones on the floor and the low ceilings were arched like a church. In the main area, large items had been covered with dustsheets which hid their form and purpose and set into the walls were small alcoves behind locked iron grills with the keys in the locks. Overhead was a winch, obviously operated by the rusty iron chain which hung down from a pulley and hooked onto a wall mounting. Iron rings had been bolted into the walls, ceiling and floor at apparently random points. The few weak electric lights on the wall were probably a late addition and there were still iron sconces on the walls, some with stubby candles.
The place was cold and smelt of old stone and fear. The small group stood just outside one of the alcoves and Melanie, who seemed to be in charge, told Purity to undress. The girls had all seen each other naked in showers and dorms but undressing in this cold, unfriendly space was an uncomfortable experience. Purity stripped off her woolen jumper exposing her little white bra and then she kicked off her canvas shoes and removed her jeans leaving her in white ankle socks and horrible, white school pants. Pretty underwear was not permitted at St Kat’s lest it encourage impure thoughts. Purity had been hoping that she would be allowed to retain her underwear but the girls circled around her kept staring and obviously expecting more. She humiliated girl tried pleading.
“What if the boilerman comes in and sees me?”
She was brusquely told that a different set of steps led to the boiler room and that, if the old boilerman did chance to see her young body, it would make his week so she should think of it as doing charity work.
So off came her underwear including socks and she stood completely naked on the cold stone. Immediately her wrists were drawn behind her and bound with rope from the sports bag. More rope went around her slim waist so that she was obliged to keep her bound wrists tight against her back. Her own jumper was pulled down over her head as an impromptu hood and then she felt cold fingers between her legs making her emit a little shriek. The fingers continued to stroke, rub and then press on her thighs to force them further apart. The hand withdrew and another took its place and fingers began to circle her sensitive little love bud making it impossible for her to suppress her groans or to keep still.
It soon became obvious that every girl present was to take her turn at masturbating their victim and Purity became embarrassingly wet as fingers intruded between her intimate folds and began to feel around her tiny inner cavity.
This continued for some time as the bound and hooded girl simply had to endure her ordeal and her cries echoed off the old stone walls. Her delicate breasts and rock hard nipples did not escape what, in any other setting, would have been flagrant sexual assault. Purity’s temperature had shot up and it was becoming quite an effort just to remain upright and to keep her breathing at least partly under control.
When, after what seemed an age, it finished Purity, still hooded by her jumper, slumped backwards against the bars of the alcove. She felt, drained, exhausted and totally humiliated. The cellar was noisy with giggling girls and with them debating which one of them had been most effective in bringing their victim to her final howling orgasm.
Purity heard the click of the old key being turned in the lock and then unseen hands dragged her away from the grill and made her walk a few steps. There seemed to be hands all over her naked body as she was pushed off her wobbly feet and onto her face on the hard floor although she could feel the prickling of the school blanket which must have been placed on the floor. Quite roughly, her ankles were dragged together and bound tightly and then her knees were bent as her ankles were pulled back towards her bound wrists and bound to them, leaving her hogtied and pretty much immobile.
She heard the clang of the grill being closed and the click of the lock.
“We’ll send the boilerman in to free you in a while.”
And then she was alone in the cold and silence. That last line must have been a bluff mustn’t it? Surely they would never carry it through, would they?
She struggled and writhed against her bonds but there was no “give” in the ropes at all. Her mind was still half sedated by the endorphins produced in her orgasm and she felt sleepy.
Purity was jerked into full wakefulness by the sound of the key turning in the lock and, suddenly, her jumper was pulled from her head. Looking upwards, the helpless girl could hardly believe her eyes – did not want to believe her eyes.
She was looking at the skinny figure of Axel Grees who did odd jobs around the school. He was aged about the same as the girls, lived in the village and was never known to speak. He wore his usual dark, stained boiler suit.
He gave her a horrible, leering grin and then went back to the main area outside the alcove. He left the grill open and, by twisting on her blanket, Purity had a view of him going around the wall mounted sconces and lighting the candles. There was then a harsh scratching and rattling as he hauled on the chain making the hook of the winch descend. When that was done, he stood looking around and then returned to the door where he snapped off the light switch leaving the cellar in dim, flickering orange candle light.
In this Gothic scene, Axel came back to Purity and dragged her blanket, with her on it, towards the place where the winch hook hung down. The blanket slid over the stone floor quite easily and Purity, still hogtied, could do nothing at all.
He produced a very ugly knife from somewhere about his person and cut the bonds on her ankles as if they were butter then he pulled down the winch and hooked it to the rope between her wrists. Purity made protests but Axel gave no sign of having heard; could he be deaf as well as mute?
The youth cut the rope from her waist and hauled on the chain so that the hook ascended and, if Purity did not want her arms wrenched from their sockets, she had to struggle to her feet and bend over as her arms rose behind her. Then he secured the chain leaving her bent at the waist and staring at her feet with her arms straining behind her back. Looking through the curtain of her own hair gave an imperfect view but she saw his feet as he slowly walked around his prey. She could not put that wicked knife out of her mind.
The first time that he touched her skin, her whole body spasmed as if in electric shock. His hand was on her slim arm and it slid up and down enjoying the smoothness of the skin. Then the touch moved around her shoulder and his other hand was on her other arm. He enjoyed unfettered access to his victim as his hands randomly caressed her face and back and then slid down around her buttocks and up underneath her bent body to feel her breasts. Purity was wriggling now and protesting loudly. She was calling him names and yelling at him to let her go but he made no response.
Somehow, his lack of response made the ordeal more terrifying because it made her attacker less human. She felt as if some monster was playing with her as if she were the toy of a wild animal which had no concept of decency or empathy. A wild beast is driven entirely by its base instincts and will do whatever it feels like doing in the moment.
To her horror she felt a damp touch on her back and knew that it could only be his tongue. He was licking up and down the expanse of her back and enjoying the taste of her skin. Then she saw his face come down to the level of her own and his pink tongue curled out. She froze as he began to lick her cheek. Purity had read in the cheaper form of novels about helpless heroines being frozen in terror but she never associated the sensation with real life. She felt as if her heart and lungs had seized up but presumably they were still working. Purity half wished that she could faint so that she would not have to endure what was being done to her but, it seems, a good swoon never comes when you want one.
Her nostrils were full of the reek of his spittle which was beginning to coat her entire body as he licked her arms then, kneeling, he put his tongue to one foot and slowly worked right up the leg moving around as he did so to ensure that he tasted as much leg as possible instead of just a straight line from foot to….. When she was certain that his tongue must reach her labia, he went to her other foot and began again the process of working upwards.
This time, he placed himself between her feet and his questing tongue did begin working from front to back underneath her body. Then his fingers were probing where, sometime earlier, her classmates had been. Purity could not think of anything more disgusting so why was her body responding to his unwelcome stimulation?
He was exerting more energy now, rubbing quite hard and much more rapidly until his fingers were frigging in and out and she could hear her intimate lips making that moist, squelchy sound. Fluid was tickling her legs as it ran down – his saliva? Her juices? Probably both.
He pulled away far too rapidly. This was not an experienced male who knew how to satisfy a woman but then, satisfying her had probably not entered his head. She almost screamed for him to finish the job but she bit the words back because, with that knife, the word “finish” had very unpleasant echoes.
The boy was standing now and he began again walking around her as if studying a specimen in a cage. The tip of a finger would touch her face, her lips or her shoulder and every slight touch was terrifying as she feared what may follow. There was no point in screaming as no-one would hear but she was genuinely afraid of making any loud, sudden noises lest he may panic and do something irrevocable.
He was now standing in front of her but far enough away that she had a clear view instead of just a view of his shoes which she would have had if he had been close. She saw him take the knife out of the front of his boilersuit. He must have had a sheath against his chest which he could reach by undoing one of the buttons down his front. The blade looked about a foot long and it said very loudly inside her head, “Butcher’s Knife”.
Slowly, he advanced upon her and she was shaking her head in a silent plea for mercy. He went out of her view behind her and she felt a sudden pull as he grabbed a small shank of her hair and sliced with the blade. He came back into her view clutching some of her hair in his hand; he stuffed his trophy inside his clothing before moving behind her again then she felt a pull on her arms and was suddenly free as the rope binding her wrists came away.
Purity immediately fell forward landing in an ungainly little pink heap upon the floor and a plastic carrier bag was dumped down beside her. As she lay there, Axel was switching on the electric lights and extinguishing the candles. When he was finished, he stood in front of her, waving “bye bye” much as would a toddler and then he left her alone.
It took Purity a while to recover her mind and the ability to move but when she managed to sit up, she opened the carrier bag and immediately smelt the distinctive reek of semen. Looking into the bag she found the clothes which her classmates had taken with them and it was very clear that the unpleasant smell was coming from her knickers. It was obvious what Axel had been doing.
Slowly, she began to dress but nothing could make her put on those spoiled pants which she left in the bag and carried it upstairs with her. Purity found her way to her dorm where she curled up on her small bed and, after a while, became aware of a friend holding her and telling her that she had passed her ordeal.