Nessaia, Cleric of Satqiel

Crack!

The flogger hit Nessaia's ass again, the new sting melting into the persistent pain that lingered in both cheeks. Bent over the metal bench with her hands gripping the edge, Nessaia grit her teeth as the flogger connected with her sore ass again and again. She wouldn't make a sound, she told herself. She wouldn't give the old bitch the satisfaction.

Crack!

"That's twenty for your thievery," Mother Cara said. "And now ten for your defiance."

The flogger came down again. Once, twice, thrice. A helpless rage bubbled in Nessaia's chest. How was this just? One hundred beggars fed, and she was being punished? No one had told her that that sum of gold was to be spent on a banquet for the baron. Mother Cara had been furious when she heard where the money had gone, but why? She had just been doing what, she believed, the Church was called to do. She had just been trying to help.

And this was what she got for it.

The final strike came down, and Nessaia wept silently into the bench. The rage left her when it was all over, leaving her cold and empty and sore. Mother Cara had just set aside the flogger when the cellar door creaked open. Father Desmond stepped inside, his usual self-satisfied smirk on his face. She quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She wouldn't show weakness to Father Desmond. The man was drawn to it, like a wolf to an injured sheep.

"I hate to see you down here again, Nessaia," Father Desmond purred. "Really, why is obedience the only virtue you struggle with? To think what an asset you could be to the Church and the gods themselves if you would only just behave."

He stepped behind her, and Nessaia moved to stand. Instead Father Desmond grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her down, pressing her face against the bench. He was strong, at least stronger than his lanky frame let on. She could feel his clothed erection pressing against her. It made the bile rise in her throat.

“Lay there a moment longer. Think about how lucky you are, that Mother Cara and I are so gracious. Especially with the Bishop here. You should be thankful we did not toss you out naked on the streets for this embarrassment."

Bishop Thaddeus had come to them just a week prior, all the way from Aelling. The Cathedral City was second only to the capital in size and grandeur, and the heart of their faith within Miroa. Bishop Thaddeus had been sent, he said, to inspect their grounds and peruse their collection of relics and ancient scriptures. Their church in Dawnveld was small, but it was old, and stuffed to the rafters with history. Nessaia had only seen him once or twice since his arrival, but he seemed a quiet and humble man. Not at all cut from the same cloth as Father Desmond.

Father Desmond brought his hand down for a quick smack! of her ass before releasing her. Nessaia wanted to wheel around and smack him back across his weaselly face, but she tamped down the new flare of rage and wept instead. Before Father Desmond could torment her any further, a young acolyte named Mirelda knocked twice before entering the cellar. Nessaia knew her as a meek but kind girl, one Father Desmond loved to prey on. She looked to be in distress, the red waves of her hair framing her face as she looked wildly about between Mother Cara, Nessaia, and Father Desmond.

"Leave us," Father Desmond snapped. “This is of no concern to you."

"Bishop Thaddeus wants to see her," Mirri practically whimpered. She never could stand up to Father Desmond, or anyone for that matter. "He asked me to get her for him..."

"Out!"

Mirri scampered away, just as quickly as she came. The next thing Nessaia knew, her robes had been tossed on top of her, the cloth haphazardly covering what little of her shame it could.

"Dress yourself and get out of my sight," Father Desmond growled. "What the Bishop would want with the likes of you, I haven't the faintest."

He stalked away, and Mother Cara shortly after him. Nessaia laid there in silence, until she was satisfied that they were truly gone.