A Pastoral Romance

I'm not sure what I expected, when I first entered the church. It was nothing but a whim really; I hadn't been since childhood, and was mildly curious.

But things changed fast after I first saw him. I had expectations, all right.

He seemed too young to be a pastor, not fitting with my image of what one should look like. A warm smiling face, kind eyes. He dressed formally, in full robes, but managed to look somehow inviting and open. I always pictured pastors being dour, cold, with empty eyes. This man was anything but that. There was vulnerability, and sweetness, and something else – a certain proclivity I could almost smell on him. I wasn't sure at first, but the longer I sat and waited the more sure I was.

He launched into his sermon, and I sat back and enjoyed. He seemed slightly nervous but also eager, and genuinely interested in his own words. His speech flowed over me, and I relaxed back, not taking in the content so much as watching him. His body language showed enthusiasm, along with a touch of nerves, and there was something in the tilt of his shoulders that suggested that secret inclination I had sensed at the beginning. Something there that belied the authority suggested by his robes – a secret desire he didn't realize was written across his face to an experienced observer.

The sermon ended with on a rousing note, not in the sleepy drone I had remembered from childhood. Once the service is over, I got up and followed the throng of people leaving, but held back. He was standing near the door, alone, and at that moment I went over to introduce myself.

I walked up to him, smiled, and offered my hand.

"Hello Pastor. I'm new here. My name's Jennifer."

He smiled back tentatively.

"Pastor Wacheski. Pleased you could join us." He stuttered slightly with nerves and as I kept holding his hand for an extended moment and looked up at him, I saw him starting to blush. Perfect.

"Pastor," I lowered my voice so he had to move in closer to hear me. "There's something that's been on my mind recently, and I was wondering – I don't know much about the Lutheran faith, but do you listen to confessions?" I finally let go of his hand, observing with secret pleasure that he was bright red. He collected himself, and then spoke.

"Well, the Lutheran church doesn't usually do Confession the way the Catholics do it. You might have noticed in the service that we had a general confession and absolution. But if someone has something that really bothers them, we'd probably be in a private setting, either in my office or in the sanctuary of the church."

I frowned.

"I'd rather have some privacy. Is it at all possible to meet with you in your office?" He agreed, although once more the stutter came out and I could sense his nervousness. I told him I was busy until the evening, and asked if he'd still be around at five. There was a long pause; I suspected he was not usually at work at such times, but then he agreed.

I enjoyed a leisurely day, and headed home to give myself lots of time to change into my outfit for my confession. I put on a gently fitted black shirt which buttoned up the front, with no bra beneath. A long slim cut skirt in black leather, elegant and falling demurely to my knee, but with a slit up the back to allow for easy movement. Black holdup stockings with wide lace bands, and a black satin g-string. I finished up the outfit with shiny black knee-high boots, my warm wool coat, and a pair of exquisite red leather gloves that came up to my elbows. Perfectly appropriate for a cold winter's day.

I arrived at the church promptly at five that evening and he let me in. He had changed out of his robes and was wearing black slacks and a plain dark shirt with a clerical collar. He seemed more approachable, less official then before, which suited my purpose perfectly. I noticed no one else seemed to be around, which fit perfectly with my intention.

He led me to his office, which was in the basement of the church. As he ushered me in, I saw a side sofa and headed immediately to it. I didn't want him moving behind his desk for what I have in mind. He followed me, first taking my coat and hanging it up, then as I sat down on he took a seat a cautious distance away.

I let him take the lead, and we started by saying a prayer together. I watched him behind my lowered eyelids as he prayed; he was touchingly sincere as he said the words. Once the prayer was over, I looked down, playing with the long gloves I hadn't yet removed, then decided to begin.

"I hope this won't shock you too much. And it does concern my job, somewhat. I could lose my job over this, if anyone found out." I glanced up briefly after speaking. He smiled reassuringly.

"At no time does anything that is said here leave here. As a pastor, I would not divulge any sin confessed here to anyone else."

I took a deep breath and began.

"Well you see, Pastor, I have a little situation at my office. I just started a new job here, and one of the perks is my assistant. He's great, really eager to please, but the situation – well, it's gotten a bit out of hand." I paused, looked at him long enough to make him blush again, then continued.

"I don't know exactly how it started. I'd had a hard day, and he came in with my coffee and spilled it all over my desk." I paused. "I don't usually lose my temper, but I'd been working on a proposal for over an hour and he'd ruined it. Not only that, but he'd gotten coffee all down my legs and over my shoe, and it was hot. So, I yelled at him to clean it up. He ran for some paper towels, then immediately dropped to his knees and started clean it. And then he looked up at me, I could see this look in his eyes, and I knew what he wanted me to do. So I told him to lick it up, off the desk."

Pastor Wacheski was staring at me, then suddenly realized what he was doing and averted his eyes. I continued.

"He did as I asked. After he'd cleaned the desk, I grabbed him by his tie and pulled him down onto his knees on the floor. I told him to lick my shoes clean, and he did."

I paused, and he stirred uneasily, crossing and uncrossing his legs.

"Then, I ordered him to lick it off my stockings. I was wearing sheer black stockings, like the ones I'm wearing now." I extended a leg to show him.

He was getting hard now – I could see it through his trousers, but he still couldn't be sure I'd seen it. I decided to push him, just a little.

"I keep worrying about being overheard, Pastor. Would you close the door, please?" it wasn't so much an entreaty as a command, my voice pitched low and authoritative. He was absolutely crimson and I know if he could think of any reason to refuse, he would, but he was speechless. He slowly got up, then turned quickly to try to hide the straining bulge in his pants, and closed the door. He turned and walked back fast, sitting down hurriedly, but I wasn't going to let him get away that easily.

I looked him right in the eyes, leaned forward, placed my hand firmly on his erection, and asked "and what is this?" in a stern tone. He looked mortified, but he didn't tell me to stop. At that moment the balance of power had swayed completely over to me, and my lips curved into a smile of triumph.

I squeezed my hand around his cock, feeling it get even harder. He looked away from me and squirmed, but I wouldn't accept that.

"Look at me," I said. "And sit still."

He raised his eyes to mine and I saw so many emotions flashing through them; shame, fear, lust and a slow burning, long buried hope. He mumbled something, and I frowned.

"You will address me clearly. As Ma'am. Is that understood?"

His voice shook, but he managed to say "yes, Ma'am," without even a trace of a stutter. I smiled and stroked his face gently, the soft leather of my gloves sliding gently over his skin.

"That's very good," I say. "Now, I want you to know something. I know what you want. What you need. I've known since I first saw you. Do you trust me to give it to you? Because if you do, you'll need to give yourself over to me. Completely."

I kept stroking his face and smiled at him, giving him time to think. His eyes were wide, a little startled, but very aware. He was quiet for a long time and I let him think, still caressing him gently. Finally he spoke, his voice very soft but unmistakable "Yes, Ma'am."

I removed my hand from his face and smiled. "Good." Then I stood up and stared at him. "Now. Take your clothes off."

I could see he wasn't expecting this.

"Right here?" he asked and I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulled him off the couch and pushed him down on his knees. He was stronger than me, of course, but he didn't resist for a second.

"Now," I said. "I won't tell you twice. Take your clothes off."

He stayed rigid and trembling for a minute, than I saw the muscles in his neck start to relax as he prepared to obey. He slowly removed his shirt, then unbuckled his pants. He paused then, unable to go through with it.

"Give me your belt," I said to him and he unthreaded it from his pants and handed it to me almost automatically, so glad to have a task that didn't expose himself further to me. It was only after I was holding it in my hands and stroking the heavy leather of it he realized what I could do with it.

I moved closer to him, swinging the belt menacingly, and ordered him once more to undress. This time, he complied; clumsily wriggling out of his pants, a difficult task while on his knees. He stared up at me, naked but for his boxers, mutely begging me with his eyes to not make him strip entirely. But I was merciless.

I started walking him around him, gently running the leather belt over his back and sides, and ordered him softly to remove his boxers. He hesitated and I smacked him very lightly with the belt, on his back, and felt a secret warm rush of pleasure as he winced. I smacked him once more and he finally broke down and removed them.

Now he was completely naked in front of me, vulnerable and exposed. His skin was pale and lovely, and as I ran my gloved fingers over it I saw him shiver.

I continued to stroke him, using both the belt and my gloved fingers to stroke him. I traced down his torso, over his thighs, and felt him tremble. I took his cock gently in my right hand, and started stroking it, softly at first, then pumping it more firmly. He moaned and arched his back slightly. I stopped for a second and he whispered "please," almost under his breath. I smiled, told him to keep still, and continued stroking, gently sliding my hand up and down, starting to feel the heat of him through the leather.

I increased the speed of my hand and he moaned and thrust into my hand and suddenly I saw a bead of precum form on the top of his cock. He squirmed against my hand and a drop of it rolled down my glove. I immediately pulled away, slapped his face lightly but firmly with the belt, and showed him the glove. "Look what you've done," I said quietly. "You've made a mess on my glove. Because you disobeyed me and moved without permission. Now clean it."

I held my gloved hand inches from his face and for a second he looked confused, and then understanding overtook him. He moved forward an inch and tentatively licked the glove. "That's very good," I said, and he gained confidence, carefully licking his own precum off the glove, then as I slid one finger into his mouth, sucking at it gently. His eyes closed and he looked oddly peaceful. I stroked his face with my free fingers, then gently pulled my hand free.

"Now, it's time for your punishment," I proclaimed. His eyes snapped open and widened with fear. I stroked his face to reassure him, than stood up in front of him. "You don't need to be afraid," I told him. "I'm taking care of you. But I can't have you being disobedient. This is for your own good, do you understand?" He murmured "Yes, Ma'am" and stayed still, head bowed, waiting.

I placed one booted foot onto his knee, not resting much weight, just enough to balance myself. He stayed still, eyes focused on my leg, afraid to move, then looked up at me tentatively. "Worship it," I said, and he looked puzzled for a second. Then he tentatively reached one hand out to stroke my calf through the leather of my boot and I purred with pleasure. I reached one hand behind his neck and pushed his head down gently and he started to kiss my boot, tentatively at first, then increasingly with urgency and enthusiasm as I praised him for his efforts. Soon he was licking all the way from the heel of the boot to the top where it met the gossamer fabric of my stocking.

"Remove my boot," I said and his hands gently reached up for the zipper, pulled it down, and carefully pulled the boot off my foot, one hand staying firm and secure on my leg to ensure I kept my balance. Then I pulled my skirt up, exposing the top of my stocking. He stared, enrapt, and then his hand slid up my leg, magnetically drawn by the smooth pale bare flesh above the deep lace band. I slapped his hand and reprimanded him sharply and he cringed back, abashed. "Never without my permission," I growled. "Now stay still, watch, and learn."

I carefully unsnapped the garters in front of him, letting him see how the tricky little fasteners worked up close. Once I'd undone them I ordered him to remove my stocking and pull it slowly down my leg and over my foot. He handed it to me once he'd finished and I stroked his head and smiled at him in approval.

I changed legs and gave him the other one, telling him to remove my boot. He did so quickly and efficiently. "Now my stocking," I told him. He tried hard but his hands were clumsy on the little snaps. Finally he had them figured out and with trembling hands pulled down the second stocking and handed it to me.

"Well done, my toy," I said and he smiled up at me. "Now one last thing," I hiked my skirt up even higher, reached for my panties, and pulled them down, then stepped carefully out of them. He was close enough to see and smell my pussy as I did this and I grinned as his eyes remain riveted until I gently smoothed my skirt down.

"Now, do you know what I'm going to use these for?" He shook his head. "Open your mouth," I said, and watched the awareness dawn. However, he knew better than to protest, and opened his mouth immediately. I stuffed the panties in it, and used one stocking to wrap around his head and tie it firmly in place. I ordered him to put his hands behind his back, and as he complied I quickly tied them with my second stocking. Then, I gently but firmly grabbed the back of his neck, and pushed him down so he was bent over on his hands and knees with his face softly resting on the ground.

I stood over him for a second, bending slightly to stroke his back. Then I placed my left hand gently on his shoulder to steady him, and brought my gloved hand down with force onto his bare ass. He flinched just a bit, and I stroked him and reassured him for a second before spanking again.

I started spanking with a steady rhythm, not too hard at first, giving him time to grow accustomed to the sensation. His ass began to redden slightly, and I smiled in satisfaction as I saw the soft red blush growing. I decided that my leather gloves were inhibiting my sensation so I paused and pulled them off, than returned to my task, enjoying the feel of his bare skin under my hands. I trailed my fingers gently his neck and back with my left hand, and continued spanking with the right hand, enjoying the contrast of the warmer skin under the spanking hand.

I progressed gradually, my blows getting harder and harder, until finally he was whimpering and squirming, trying desperately to keep still, but unused to dealing with the intensity of the stinging pain I rained down on him. I relented and slowed down, stroking the bright red flesh, soothing him, giving small light spanks that were more like pats, my other hand massaging his shoulders, reassuring him all the while that he had done well, and had pleased me. I felt his body starting to relax.

I reached forward and undid the gag. He took several deep breaths as I rubbed his shoulders and neck with both hands, letting him take in more oxygen. I asked him how he felt and he glanced up at me shyly, with a hesitant smile. I could see his pupils were slightly dilated, but he was coherent enough to reply.

"I'm not sure Ma'am. I feel good. But there's more to it, more that I can't describe." His brow furrowed for a second as if he's trying to gather the words, then he shakes his head. I told him he had done well and stroked his hair, and he relaxed and leaned into my leg.

We stayed like this for a few minutes, enjoying the new-found closeness, but I could feel desire starting to intrude into my mind and body and I knew what I needed. I gave him one final pat, then untied his hands, and ordered him to crawl across the room to his desk, get into the leg space and wait for me there.

He moved slowly but steadily, looking so determined and focused on meeting this goal that I had to smile. I walked behind him, smacking his ass gently to ensure he kept his pace consistent, until we arrived at the desk. He crawled underneath and turned to face me, looking for all the world like a shy wild animal peeping out of its burrow. I sat down on his desk chair and pulled it in close enough so his head was almost resting on my knees.

"Do you know what I require of you now?" I asked him. He looked nervous, and dropped his eyes. "Look at me, my toy," I said and he made an effort and raised his eyes. "Answer me," I sais.

He blushed and whispered, "I'm not sure, Ma'am."

I strokde his hair as I continued to gaze at him steadily. "Take a guess, then," I said, and then I shifted in the chair, pushed my skirt up so it was raised around my waist, and slowly opened my legs. "You're an intelligent creature. I think you can make a good guess."

His blush deepened to scarlet and he was trying not to stare at my pussy, open and wet and welcoming. "Do you want me to lick..." he stammers, then can't say the word.

"My pussy," I said. "That's right, I want you to lick my pussy. You want to please me, don't you?"

"Yes Ma'am" he said, but his voice was uncertain. "I'm just...well, Ma'am, I'm not very experienced. I don't want to disappoint you."

I leaned forward and with both hands I cradled his head in my hands, then looked down at him as my thumbs caressed his face. "That's all right, my sweet toy" I said. "I'll show you exactly what to do. I'll teach you how to pleasure me." I saw the look of relief in his eyes, and also a flicker of slow-burning desire. "Now, watch and learn," I said.

I reached down with one hand and spread my pussy lips gently open, then took the index finger of my other hand and started slowly tracing. I showed him the way I liked my inner lips caressed, how to coax out the small hungry bud of my clitoris, how stroking over and around it make me moan out loud. I asked him to give me his hand and when he did I used it to stroke myself, holding it like an instrument that I could play upon for my own pleasure, taking his fingers and rubbing, pressing, circling until I was writhing in my seat. I saw his eyes open wide with shocked pleasure as I took his index finger and slid it deep inside myself, and when I ordered him to insert a second finger and use them together he immediately complied. I told him to keep using his fingers in the same rhythm, then I pulled his head forward and whispered "follow my fingers with your tongue" as I traced slow lazy circles over my clit.

He was hesitant at first but as he heard my moans and whispers of encouragement he grew bolder and more innovative. I reached down with one foot and started pressing it against his cock, gratified to feel it hard and swelling against me as I rubbed it. Soon he was no longer following my lead but experimenting, learning the taste and feel of me as well as what drove my pleasure. My moans were getting louder and I ordered him to go faster and harder and he complied, my good obedient toy, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm until I finally exploded in total abandon against his eager mouth and fingers. My back arched, I scream, and I grabbed the back of his head hard and forcde him in as I writhed against his face, lost to pleasure.