This is the third and final part, of my story 'My First Spanking, In The Beginning, so you may wish to read the first two before you start on this.
A knock on my door and there was Father White, hugging me and asking how I was feeling.
"Oh so much better, Father, thanks to you."
And so I was, it was the morning after my 'illness' and my lovely friend Father White bathing me. After he had left last night, I had a gorgeously enjoyable time masturbating myself, thinking about Father White and the wonderful bath he had given me.
I had woken up with the previous day's memories still providing tingles throughout my body, the memory of Father White's fingers probing me, his lovely soapy hands all over every inch of my body and here he now was, to see how I was doing.
I had bathed and dressed, a vest and a short skirt, white panties and bra, and there was Father White in his regulation black suit and clerical collar. He was 72, he wasn't what you might call good looking, he had a little paunch and a balding head, but to me, he was incredibly handsome. With his arm around my shoulder, as though I still needed assistance from my weakening 'illness', we walked to the kitchen, putting the kettle on for a cup of tea, which was always first on the schedule when Father White visited.
It was a lovely morning; the warmth of the morning sun was sufficiently warming to require the lounge windows to be open wide, letting a mild balmy breeze cool things a little.
As we sat side by side on the couch, it seemed like our idle chatter was masking certainly what I was still thinking about, and I wonder if Father White was still thinking about it too.
Since yesterday my mind had played my bath over and over again. Every soapy detail was revisited, then revisited again. Did he really wash me? Did he really have his hands and fingers everywhere? Our rather limited small talk this morning was telling me that it was still uppermost in both of our minds.
"Well young lady, I think it's high time we got back to business, would you like to assume the position?"
It took a second or two for my brain to figure out what exactly he was talking about. I was, in my mind, still replaying his soapy hands on me, but gosh yes, he means a spanking.
"Sorry Father, I was miles away," well I was actually about 4 metres away in the bathtub, or my mind was anyway. But what a nice way to start the day, getting my little bum spanked by this lovely man.
I stood up, unfastened my skirt, stepped out of it and placed it on the arm of the couch. 'Ooh, I think a bare bum spanking this morning' I was thinking, 'let's hope he takes his time with it'. And with that, I pulled my panties down and stepped out of them, placing them on top of my skirt.
Every time I've been naked, or semi-naked like this in front of Father White, my whole body tingles. I feel the resultant moistness at the uppermost part of my thighs gradually begin to sexily lubricate me. I stood in front of him ready for my spanking, still in my top, but now naked from the waist down. I'm sure I could feel the very beginnings of a very slow trickle of my wetness emerge from within, no doubt making my pubic hair glisten slightly. I liked having a little pubic hair, I keep it shortish and neat, and when I masturbate myself, I like the feel of my hair as my fingers delve. I also enjoyed standing in front of Father White with my vagina on show. Was he looking at it? Was he remembering how it felt when he washed it?
"Assume the position please Emily," his words woke me from my daydream and placing my hands on his thighs to steady myself, I positioned my body across his lap. His hand resting on my bare bum to steady me into position. Mm that hand on my bare bum, it never ceased to be enjoyable. As I settled myself, I opened my legs a little more than was probably required, but hey I was in this position to enjoy myself.
Father White seemed to have developed a routine since he started spanking me. It would begin with his hand just resting on my bare bum as he reminded me about God's goodness.
"Jesus saves us from our sins by his word, through which he calls sinners to repentance."
Those words had become the norm as he would begin to spank me, and would remind me that Father White was doing this to help keep me on the right path in life. That would always make me feel a little guilty, he was doing this in God's name, and in a way, I was taking advantage of his goodness.
That internal debate I was having with myself, however, had begun to diminish over the past weeks, as I was increasingly getting the impression that Father White was enjoying spanking me too.
The hard smack of his hand on my bare bum brought me back to the here and now once again. 'Ouch, that one hurt' I was thinking, but the gentle stroking of my bum cheeks after the smack soothed the pain but increased the tingling between my legs. 'Gosh I hope I'm not dripping on his trouser leg' I was thinking, how embarrassing. I will have to take a quick glance as I get up after the twelfth.
The second and then the third were just as hard, I could begin to feel the stinging now and that numbness, but it felt wonderful nonetheless.
Successive smacks were making me squirm on his lap. Incredibly enjoyable, but stinging and painful nonetheless. Ooh, I so loved my bare bum being spanked.
We were soon up to the twelfth, ending all too soon really, but twelve was the number 'dad' had indicated, and twelve it was. The last smack echoed around the room and as his grip on me relaxed, I eased myself up off his lap. My hands instinctively going to my burning bum cheeks, ouch they hurt. I half turned from Father White as he sat there.
"Is it red?" I asked, showing him my bare bum and the results of his handiwork.
"It's quite red today, yes," he said as he cupped and stroked each cheek with his right hand.
I so loved the feel of his hand on my bum, the gentleness and tenderness after the hard spanking. My mind suddenly darted back, 'quickly check his trouser leg,' and as he continued to survey his efforts, a quick unobtrusive glance showed a definite sign of my having been there. Gosh, how embarrassing, maybe he hadn't spotted it, maybe it will seep in and not leave a mark. Or maybe he enjoyed that, maybe he liked the fact that him spanking my bum had made my vagina leak.
Any which way, as he settled himself back into the couch, I stepped into my panties and then my skirt, fastening the fastener as I offered Father White another cup of tea.
"I won't this morning thank you, Emily, I have a busy schedule today, but I'll stop by later this evening to see how you're feeling if that's ok?"
I had virtually forgotten my 'illness', so had to quickly turn on my 'gradually recovering patient' look.
"Of course Father, let me give you my spare front door key though, just in case I'm asleep, don't bother knocking just come in, it's fine."
And with that, I took the spare key out of my lounge unit drawer and handed it to him as he rose to depart.
"If I see you sleeping, I'll creep out again, you need your sleep after being so unwell," and with that and a hug goodbye, he was gone.
My bum was still burning from the spanking and I needed to poo. As I sat on the toilet, my mind was wandering, still full of the pleasure of such a lovely spanking, my bum cheeks pressed down on the toilet seat were reminding me how tender they were now feeling.
As my bum finished what it was doing, I was having further thoughts about Father White and his visit tonight. Wiping my bum, it suddenly came to me, 'what if...?' Yes, that was it; my devious mind was in planning mode once again. It was suddenly running ahead so quickly that I had to bring myself back to the real world again. After several wipes, a flush of the loo, panties up, skirt back in place and over to the sink to wash my hands, my mind started up again. Yes, a plan was being formed, that's what I'm going to do.
The day seemed to drag by, lunch of a salad seemed rather bland, my mind was elsewhere, he would be back in a few hours.
Would I really be brave enough to do this? How shall I arrange things? There were so many questions I was asking myself, but if it all went to plan, how exciting and enjoyable could this be.
Father White had told me a few days ago that he was being re-assigned to another parish in the north. Apparently, the Priest there had died suddenly and they needed a calming and experienced Priest to step in almost immediately. I was incredibly sad when he told me; I was going to miss him immensely. It wasn't just the spanking I was going to miss, it was him. He had become such a lovely friend. I had enjoyed getting to know him, enjoyed our closeness, and even though there was nothing openly sexual in our friendship, he had still seen and touched parts of me that no man had done before.
If he was leaving soon, then let there be no further barriers to his last few visits. I had formulated a plan in my mind now. He had my spare key, I'd told him to just come straight in. Yes, my mind was set. I'm going to do it, what the heck. If he rushes off, never to return, then so be it, it will be sad to lose him, but as my lovely Grandma always says 'you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.'
He'd indicated that he would return in the evening, and by his normal routine that would be about 8.30 pm. It could vary slightly, but he was a creature of habit and I would have put money on two or three minutes either side of 8.30.
It was now just after 6 pm, so a quick bath. I looked at myself naked in the bathroom mirror as the water ran, filling my tub. I looked ok, my nails were all short, I don't wear garishly coloured nail varnish, I'm not into bright colours or long nails, just a neatly manicured nail and some natural lacquer, just to make them a little shinier than normal. My pubic hair was fine, neat and tidy. I've never been a very hairy person anyway, I shave under my arms and they're always hairless. I got my legs 'sugared' a few times a couple of years ago for my sixteenth birthday and the very fine light hair I used to get on my legs had virtually disappeared, so everything is smooth and silky.
The warm water felt lovely as I lay back in the tub, the coconut bath oils were doing their work, and my skin was feeling soft and sexy. I could quite easily have laid there and drifted off into a wonderfully sexy warm watery doze, but I needed to concentrate. I washed my hair, not as sexily as Father White had yesterday admittedly, but a routine wash. After rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I grabbed the towel I'd rested on the edge of the bath and proceeded to dry. A few minutes later with the towel neatly encasing my hair in a towel turban, I started my normal body washing routine.
