“You’ve been in my office fourteen times this year, Amy.” SMACK! “And you’ve said an act of contrition for each blow.” SMACK! “And yet you’re still running around like whore of Babylon aren’t you?”
I would have screamed when he grabbed my hair, pulling my head back as he growled this last, but my voice was gone. I thought the Father had gone crazy.
“What will it take to get through to you, girl?” He shook my head, back and forth, and I looked at him with wild eyes. His whole body pressed me against the desk, the weight of him incredible, and I gasped for breath. “This thing is useless with you!” He threw the paddle and it clattered on the marble floor. “Your sins are of the flesh. Perhaps you need a lesson in that.”
He let me go and I collapsed on the desk, feeling tears stinging my eyes, rolling down my cheeks, although I fought them.
“Perhaps…” His voice had turned thoughtful, and I chanced a puzzled glance back over my shoulder just in time to see his hand coming down toward my ass.
SMACK! The solid sound of flesh on flesh filled the room, and he did it again.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I cried out, trying to wiggle away, but he grabbed my hips, pulling my panties down to my knees, and kept going, a steady rhythm, over and over.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“Please Father!” I sobbed. I’d forgotten all about hiding my pain, my fear-and I was afraid now. He was crazed, mad, and I didn’t have any idea what he might do.
“Please, I’m sorry! I’ve sinned, I’ve sinned, I’m sorry… sorry for having… offended…
Thee… owwwww!”
His hands spread my legs wide, pressing my thighs open and my eyes widened in panic and a dawning horror. “Sins of the flesh,” he muttered, and I felt his body pressing, his robes lifting, parted, and the heat of his crotch against the stinging, reddened globes of my ass.
“Father, please!” He grabbed my hair again, and I sobbed when he shoved his cock into me, the final humiliation.
“You need a good lesson,” he grunted, thrusting deep. I whimpered, unable to believe this was happening, that a priest had just impaled me across his desk and was now beginning to fuck me. I’d been fucked before—I loved it—but this? This was a horror, an abomination, a…
“A good… hard… lesson!” Each word was punctuated by a thrust, and his hands found his way underneath me to grab my breasts through my blouse, shoving it aside and tearing off a button to reach under my bra and squeeze my flesh.
“The paddle doesn’t work.” He gasped when he felt my nipples hardening.
“Maybe you need a lesson from the holy staff!”
“Oh god,” I moaned as he pounded me harder, his fingers squeezing both of my nipples, sending hot shocks down to my pussy. I was wet-God help me, I was wet, and his cock was pumping fast, his thighs spreading mine wide, driving me toward the deepest sin I’d ever known.
He’d gone crazy, and I was going crazy right along with him. My cunt was on fire, my nipples burned, and I knew we were both going to hell, but I didn’t care. Father
Hamilton groaned when I squeezed my pussy around his cock, arching, fucking him back.
“You’re a bad girl!” He smacked my ass, hard, and I jumped, the sensation vibrating through me. “Bad!” SMACK! “Bad!” SMACK!
“Fuck!” I cried, spreading wider, wanting more. “Yes!”
“Ahhhhhhhh, God, forgive us all!” He groaned, grinding his hips into mine, and I trembled beneath, feeling my climax coming and unable to stop it. I was beaten, broken, humiliated, and completely at his mercy as I writhed in my own pleasure on the desk while he fucked me senseless. I didn’t have time to think or breathe or speak when he grabbed me again by the hair and shoved me down to my knees on the floor.
“You will be penitent!” He insisted, shoving his cock deep into my throat with a low groan. I gagged, but I took it, hearing him whisper, “I am your bread and wine,” just before throwing his head back and letting go. My mouth flooded with cum and I choked, swallowing, tears streaming down my face as I took it all, every last bit, looking up wide-eyes at this priest, this man I didn’t know anymore, wearing black robes and a white collar.
He moved away from me then, leaving me gasping on my dirty knees, mascara streaked down my cheeks, blouse torn open, pussy dripping. His robes fell back into place and he leaned against the desk, breathing hard, composing himself.
Finally, he waved his hand toward the door, not looking at me, “Go.” I stood on shaky legs, wobbling toward the door, when I heard him say, “You will return tomorrow for further punishment. We aren’t done yet.”
No. No we weren’t done, I discovered. Not by a long shot. Father Hamilton’s punishment went on and on, until I thought I would die from the pleasure and the pain, and my only fear was that it might end. But it didn’t. Thank you God, it didn’t.
He continued to punish me, not sparing the rod, every single day for the rest of the year.
IN THE BARN
My brother masturbated in the barn, way up high in the loft, lying alone in the soft, clean hay we shoveled down for Da to feed the animals. I didn’t understand at first, what he was doing. I think he would have heard me, that first time I climbed up the ladder, ready to tell him that Ma needed a hand moving something in the kitchen, if he hadn’t been about to make a mess. I saw him, lying down, black hat tossed aside, head cocked at a funny angle, and at first I panicked, thinking he was hurt. But then I heard his fast, labored breathing, saw his hand moving between his legs, and knew he was holding onto his privates.
But what could he be doing to them?
I stood frozen on the ladder, eyes wide, as his hand moved faster and faster, like lightning, up and down. He gave out a soft moan, his hips bucked up, and I stared, shocked, as thick, white streams shot over his fist, up onto his bare belly, where he’d pulled up his shirt.
I knew it was a sin. I couldn’t be anything but. Instead of confronting him that first time, I snuck down the ladder as quiet as I could. I told Ma I didn’t feel well-and no, I didn’t find Eli in the barn, I said-and went to my room, which was really mine and Sarah’s and Becca’s together.
I felt sick, remembering what I saw, but I was curious, too. What could he have been doing with himself like that? The sounds he made were sort of like he was in pain…but why would he be hurting himself? And at the end, the shock of the liquid shooting from his privates…it wasn’t pee. I knew what that looked like. My little brother, Isaac, had peed on me enough during diaper changes for me to know that.
I lay there a long time, feeling funny down low in my belly, playing the scene over and over in my head. That’s when I decided to watch Eli, to see if he did it again. It was the next afternoon he disappeared from the side of the house where Da had him stacking wood. I was hanging laundry, and saw him head to the barn, so I followed.
This time, I saw it all, from beginning to end. I peeked over the top of the ladder to watch, even untying and taking off my white cap-a sin in and of itself-hoping the darkness of the barn would hide me, and let my brown hair blend into my surroundings.
If he looked over, he would only see that-the top of my head and my wide eyes. I watched him lie back in the hay, unfasten his pants, start touching his privates.
It was soft at first-a small snake in a nest of hair-but the more he touched it, the bigger it got. I stared, aghast, when it stood straight up, more than double its original size. Eli licked his palm, calloused from hard work, and wrapped his fist around the length, moving his hand up and down, just like the day before.
His breath came faster and faster-and so did mine. That funny feeling was back in my belly, low down, cradled in my pelvis. Something ached there, throbbed, like a tooth does, only it wasn’t a hurtin’ sort of agony, but a delicious kind. I wanted more of it.