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Mary Stafford
"Lean over the desk." Mary commanded and Father John didn't hesitate to obey, his erection almost fully revived.
The cane whistled through the air as she wielded the first blow, his buttocks clenching when it struck his tender flesh, leaving a bright red welt. "You're a naughty one, you are" Mary said as she smoothed her fingers gently over the mark. "It's my duty, you see." She raised the cane and struck again.
Father John moaned softly. "Not a sound! This is what you deserve." Mary's hand played across the priest's ass, yet again. Caressing the welts she was placing there.
Swoosh!
He flinched, his erection throbbing. "No, no. We can't have that, Father." Mary's voice was low and husky, an aching deep inside her puss growing to match his more than obvious arousal. "You'll not soon forget this indiscretion."
She rubbed the pattern of raised weals that was developing on the priest's posterior, feeling their heat and soothing the sting almost tenderly. It was her duty to discipline him, but there was still more to come.
Mary continued for ten strokes -- the sharp swish of the cane cutting through the air alternated by the sound of her voice, gently reprimanding as she smoothed her hand over its latest mark. Finished at last, she bade him rise.
"Now, Father" she said sternly. "Now I will show you where you should deposit that mess instead of on my clothing."
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I saw weird stuff in that place last night. Weird, strange, sick, twisted, eerie, godless, evil stuff. And I want in. ~Homer Simpson
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