The enormous main hall of Crowhurst Castle glowed with the light of massed ranks of candles, gaslight, and the radiance of the flames from the huge fireplace. Polished woodwork, brass, and silver gleamed warmly, as did the bare skin of the thirteen naked women gathered before the man who stood before the huge ornate mantelpiece. Cornelius Crowhurst studied his twelve disciples in satisfaction. They were some of the most beautiful women in England, and they were devoted to him, body and soul, as they were about to prove.

Standing beside Crowhurst, Kirsten was equally as naked as the other women, but she was not a disciple or believer in Crowhurst's power and teachings. To her mind, she was something much better. She was his sexual slave. Her slavery was a voluntary one, but she was effectively bound to him by her own will as she would have been by a steel collar and chains. She was deeply submissive, and her submission fulfilled a great aching need inside of her. In general, Crowhurst was kind or at least polite to her, even though his anger and his whims could be very cruel, both physically and emotionally, which she differentiated from the punishments she received because it aroused him and gave him pleasure. She viewed such sexual inflictions as being perfectly within his rights as her master, and though she did not enjoy being hurt, she did enjoy being of service to him, and that enabled her to endure his carefully measured torments with equanimity, and even a degree of happiness. Now she was going to watch some of the other women being punished.

To be precise, punishment was not an accurate description since they had done nothing wrong and they felt no disquiet. Indeed, all of them faced the prospect of being the recipient of severe pain, and being used sexually in a manner that was unconventional to say the least, with joyful anticipation. The Master required it and it would purify their spirit, so they were willing to give of themselves gladly. They had witnessed for themselves the miracles that their pain and suffering could produce in the Master's hands, and like all true believers, that was reason enough. They were willing to die for him because he promised an eternity of joy and spiritual comfort to those who wholly gave of themselves.

The Gatherings - that was what Crowhurst called them - which were really punishment sessions were organised based upon a schedule and roster developed by Crowhurst. In general this meant a session once a week or at most once a fortnight if other matters intervened. If a disciple was ill or still in too much pain to participate, they were allowed to exchange their times with another who volunteered to take her place. It was an amazing affirmation of their devotion that every fit disciple always raised their hand when volunteers were called for.

"My beloved Disciples! I welcome each and every one of you to today's Gathering. Prepare to renew your devotion to our cause, and to be yourselves renewed." Crowhurst raised his hands to the level of his shoulders, palms upwards in blessing. His eyes closed in concentration, and he heard all of them gasp in wonder as a sensation of warmth and contentment entered their nude bodies, dispelling any feelings of cold or discomfort they might have been feeling.

In addition, each of the women felt a different warmth. It was as if a strong but gentle hand had lovingly touched them between their thighs and cupped their breasts. Several bit their lip in order not to cry out in lustful desire.