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Copyright 2003 by Rod Harden All rights reserved |
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"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession."
The woman made the sign of the cross then knelt silently for a moment. She held hands in front of her, palm to palm, fingertips pointed heavenward, and chewed her lip nervously. "Go ahead, my child." "Well, I- I've been having more impure thoughts, Father." "I see." "I just can't seem to help myself." "Tell me about these thoughts." "But, Father, they're so... so... I just don't think I can." "It will help if you to speak your wicked thoughts aloud. Get them out of your head and into the open." "Oh." Again, silence fell upon the penitent. Angela fidgeted for a moment, then pressed her hands together once more. Though thirty four years old, she was dressed like a First Communion girl in a white satin dress, white veil, and white gloves. Her glistening white paten leather shoes looked as moist as her white cotton panties had already become. "Well," she began, "sometimes at work, and I'm in a meeting-" "Don't talk in generalities, my dear. Tell me a specific instance. Tell me about the last time these thoughts came to you." "All right, Father. It was two days ago. My boss, Steve, called the whole accounting department together. About ten minutes into the meeting, while someone else was talking, I noticed him staring at my chest." "Your boss?" "Yes, Father." "And this angered you?" "Well, I- I guess it should have, but it didn't. I kind of like it when men notice me that way. In fact it got me daydreaming." "Tell me about this daydream." "If you say so. As he - my boss, that is - stared at my chest, I imagined him interrupting the meeting. I pictured him standing and pointing at me. He said, 'I've just been sitting here studying Angela's chest for the last ten minutes, and I for one want to see her tits.' In my daydream I pretended to be shocked, but was secretly excited. There were murmurs of agreement all around the table. Even the other women. Everyone started saying, 'Yes, Angela, show us your tits.'" "What happened then, my child?" "Well, Father, with everyone demanding to see my tits, I figured all I could do was stand and take off my blouse. So I did. In reality I was wearing a bra, but in my daydream I wasn't. All I had to do was unbutton a few buttons and I was totally exposed. Steve smiled and said they were just as nice as he imagined. My tits, that is. Then he said, 'I want to fondle them, too, Angela, so come over here by me.'" "And you did this also? In this daydream of yours?" "Oh, yes, Father! How could I refuse my boss? I went and stood next him, and let him squeeze me and pinch me. And while he was doing that, Jeff, one of my colleagues, said, 'I'd like a piece of that when you're done.' So Steve got in a few last squeezes and told me to take myself over to Jeff." "How did you feel about all of this, young lady?" "Father, it was so humiliating and degrading. And yet I..." Angela's voice trailed off into an extended sigh. Her breathing grew increasingly rapid and shallow. "I was so aroused by it. I mean, it was all just in my imagination, but it felt so real, so vivid." "Did the daydream end then?" "No, Father. I pictured myself going from one person to the next and having my bare breasts fondled and played with by everyone in the room. I was passed down the line like a sign-in sheet. And after everybody had a turn with me, Steve told me to refill his coffee. He said I had to leave my blouse open while I went, so everyone in the whole office would see me. And I did that, too. Even though I'm one of the head accountants, I went to fetch him coffee, half naked in front of the whole office." "These thoughts of yours are truly vile, my child." "I know, Father! I'm so ashamed. And that's not even the worst of it. The daydream excited me so much, I actually moaned a bit in the real meeting. The people next to me looked at me, as if they thought I wasn't feeling well." "Your sexual arousal at such depraved thoughts shows how much of a sinner you are." "I know I am, Father." "Your penance for this sin will be severe." "Yes, Father, I understand."
Act of Contrition
He paused as though considering her fate.
"Stand up, my child," he said presently. "Your penance shall begin at once. Hold out your hands. That's right."
On the floor beside his chair lay several coils of rope and a roll of duct tape. He reached down for one of the coils and began wrapping it around her wrists.
"Father, must you bind me?"
"I wouldn't do it if it weren't necessary, young lady. Do you think I'm enjoying this?"
"Of course not, Father. I meant no disrespect."
"I'm sure you didn't." He sat back and regarded her. "You must now remove your panties, my dear."
"But, Father, my hands..."
"You can manage, I'm sure."
"Yes, Father."
The hem of Angela's dress fell just below her knees. She reached down and raised it up slowly, revealing her plump yet toned thighs inch by inch. With the material bunched up around her hips, she grasped the waistband of her panties and began pulling down. But her bound wrists prevented her from reaching behind her to guide the elastic over the curve of her ass. Instead she could only wiggle and sway while tugging at the front and trying to keep the dress from falling. It was an awkward, embarrassing process.
She glanced at her confessor. He was smiling, his eyes riveted on her display. She noticed his nostrils flare as his hand began stroking the lump in his lap.
At last, the damp undergarment fell to floor.
"Continue holding your dress up," he said, looking serious again.
"Yes, Father."
Angela flushed when she saw him reach for another coil of rope. Her drenched pussy tingled, exposed to the chill of the air. He folded the length of cord in half, then reached under her dress, pulling the rope around her waist. He held the loop in front and slipped the loose ends through it. Angling the cord downward, he carefully guided it between her nether lips, then up in back, dividing her ass cheeks. He pulled it snug and knotted it tight.
Angela gasped as the double thickness of rope pressed into her engorged sex. She waited for him to signal her before dropping her dress again, then smoothed the material out. It was impossible to tell from the outside what lay beneath.
"Point your fingers up in prayer again."
She did so while he picked up the roll of tape. He tore off a length and wrapped it around her outstretched fingers, wedding them tip to tip. Then he stood and led her to a low, square table.
"On your knees, up on the table," he said, patting the tabletop. "Now sit back on your heels."
She knelt as he told her, elevated about eighteen inches upon the table as though on a display stand. He stood behind her and tapped the inside of her calves until she spread her legs to the very edges of the table.
Then he grasped her right ankle. She moaned at his touch and pressed her taped hands against her pussy, rubbing the rope into the renewed gush of arousal. She felt rope snare her ankle. He cinched the cord then took hold of her left ankle. She tried moving her right foot, but it was now anchored at the corner.
Soon, her left ankle was secured to the other corner. She was still rubbing herself vigorously when Ted lightly slapped her hands away from body.
"Enough of that wickedness," he scolded.
She glanced up at her husband. In his black trousers, black shirt, and stiff white collar, he made the perfect priest. He continued to scowl down at her for a moment, before allowing the hint of a smile to escape his gaze.
"Lean forward, young lady," he said. "That's it. Keep going. I've got you, don't worry."
With plenty of help from Ted, she leaned down until her face pressed against the tabletop. The motion raised her ass into the air. Her bound hands rested under her body, reaching between her legs toward her tethered ankles.
From behind her, Ted grabbed her wrists. He pulled them back as far as he could then anchored them in place. Angela sucked raspy gasps of air as she wiggled and tested her bonds. Her forced crouch was far from comfortable, yet she was comforted by the inescapable grip of rope.
Closing her eyes, she imagined Ted standing behind her, watching her, becoming more and more aroused by her helplessness. Suddenly, he flipped up her dress. She could almost see her obscenely upraised ass, split by cord and inviting its punishment.
"It's time, now, Angela."
"Yes, Father. Please."
"Say your Act of Contrition, my child."
"O my God, I am heartily sorry-"
She got only that far before Ted's palm landed the first blow with a loud smack!
"Ow! - For having offended Thee-" she continued.
Again his hand crashed down upon her bare bottom.
"Oh!- And I detest all- Ouch! - All my sins, because- Ooh! - I dread the loss of- Ow!- Of heaven, and the pains of- Ow, shit! Of hell!..."
Ted sped up the spanking until Angela could barely get a single word out between smacks.
"But most of all," she continued, grunting and weeping between words as her spanking continued. "Because they offend Thee, my- God! Damn it! Who are all good - Ungh! - and deserving - Ow, ow, OW! - of all my love." The last few lines were little more than gibberish mixed with choked-back sobs.
Whack! The final blow fell louder and harder than all the rest.
"AMEN!" she screamed.
Her ass felt ablaze with the sting of the spanking. She felt the warmth as though a heat lamp hovered just above her punished flesh. As she sniffed back her tears, she felt another source of heat, a burning shaft, between her thighs.
Ted pumped his rigid cock along the rope that still bisected her cunt. She felt new pressure on the rope from above until it suddenly loosened and fell away, and she realized he had cut it. She was now totally open, available.
His first thrust into her was slow and steady, as though he were savoring each fraction of an inch. The lengthy stroke made his shaft seem impossibly long. When he finally bottomed out, he paused there, grinding himself into her and kneading her ass with his strong fingers.
He withdrew and thrust again, a little quicker. Gradually he sped up, building a long crescendo to a thundering fortissimo. She renewed her prayer, now shortened to a repeating chant of, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" Delirious with pleasure, she ascended to the cradle of the divine.
The ecstasy lasted a moment of forever.
Later, as she snuggled against Ted in bed, he patted her damp hair out of her face and kissed her. He smiled lovingly.
"Were you really thinking all that at the meeting the other day?" he asked.
"Uh huh."
"Funny, but I don't remember the little moan."
"Well, silly," she said, laughing, "you were actually paying attention!"
Act of Contrition |