The Sisterhood Of Equos

by IronHawk
- do not use without the artist/author's permission.


"What is this place?" mumbled Lucy weakly. "Feels like... I've been here... a week..."

Her head lolled, the incense fumes already making her groggy. Lucy did little to resist as Sister Cestia helped her a short distance from where she had been shackled, only to gently place her wrists in another set of chains, this one in the centre of the dim, stone room.

"Two weeks, actually," smiled Cestia. "This is the penitarium. Those wishing to join our order spend a period of decision here. As do those of our sisters who need time to comtemplate their bond with the goddess."

The girls hanging in shackles from the silent walls were in various degrees of undress, some on their feet, one or two suspended, dangling above the floor.

"Of course, some need more intensive contemplation than others."

Lucy tried to shake her head. "But I'm not a sister. And I don't want to join you. Me? In one of those weird outfits, running around righting wrongs, and stuff...? Huh..."

"You misunderstand, sister - we have already accepted you into our order. You are even now wearing the vestments of your rank!"

"Wearing... but you've got me naked apart from these stupid boots..."

"The boots are your vestments."

"That's ridiculous... I've never seen any of you wearing..."

And then she realised. But the intoxicating fumes formed a fog that her shock could not quite penetrate. She was only faintly aware of the clopping on stone of two more sisters approaching.

Sister Celia gave Lucy's hair a gentle stroke as the hooded initiates, those strange metal bars clasped in their mouths as always, set down two buckets of slopping oil.

"Sister Ophelia is a Whisperer, and Sister Remy is a Chastiser," Celia said. "They are the two ranks who specialise in taking care of the sisters of your kind. You'll be seeing a lot of them, I should think. But for now, they are here to numb you for the final ritual. I look forward to seeing you again!"

Sister Cestia stalked away before Lucy could say anything else, and without further ceremony the two initiates gently began scooping their mysterious oils onto Lucy's skin. The addling incense seemed to concentrate the soft moans of the shackled girls on the walls, the gentle clacks of the initiates' teeth against their mouthpieces, and above all, their liquid touch gliding over her skin. Swimming in the events of the last few minutes, it was all too much for Lucy's frayed senses. Blissful confusion carried her mind away.