Purity

Disclaimer:

Please read and take note. This work explores themes of power imbalance, older man/younger woman, corporal discipline, and the corruption of Christian traditions in a historical context. Please do not read this story if you find such themes offensive, distasteful, or upsetting. Also, understand this is a work of fiction directly from the creative mind of a fellow human being and is freely offered up for the enjoyment of those who would like it. Troll comments will be deleted with extreme prejudice.

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Alice Brewer was a good girl. At least, she thought she was, deep down. Although recently, she had felt herself be tempted most wickedly by impure thoughts and the sin of self-pleasure, for which she knew she must be punished. However, she had always done her best to be a virtuous and dutiful daughter to her father, Silas Brewer, who had once had some standing in the village as the local publican before losing his wife. After succumbing to his own ale, he first lost his livelihood, then their home and nothing she could say or do could reverse this decline. Alice had pleaded for him to stop, begging local hostelries to refuse her father entry, but he was lost to his pain. Eventually, he could stand her interference no longer and gladly handed her off to the parish church under the guardianship of Father Edmund Hardwick.

As always, when Father Edmund preached his weekly sermon, Alice sat in the front row under his watchful eye, dressed in her scratchy Sunday dress. She tried to listen dutifully, but she had heard this sermon several times across the week as he insisted she sit for his recitals and therefore found her attention wandering.

Today, her gaze was caught by how the light played through the stained glass and how this refracted on the worn limestone walls and the polished oak pews that she had diligently buffed to a high shine only that morning. She followed the light until it fell upon a scuffed boot, up a muscular calf and thigh, and journeyed further north until she reached the chiselled chin of Seth Blackstone, the local farrier. She saw the corner of his lip twitch up before she met his gaze and realized, with horror that she had been caught! His broad grin and cheeky wink were enough to make her jerk her eyes front, her face flaming.

But the ruggedly handsome blacksmith wasn't the only one who had caught her looking. The furious gaze of her guardian speared her from the pulpit, and she knew she had just bought herself a world of trouble.

After the service, Alice stood beside the stern clergyman as he spoke to his parishioners. Instead of smiling and greeting them as usual, she was silent, eyes downcast. Her feet shifted restlessly as though they wanted to turn tail and run all of their own volition. Desperate not to make eye contact with Seth Blackstone as he passed, her eyes instead alighted on his tight breeches, rekindling the fire in her cheeks and neck. This did not go unnoticed by her guardian, and Alice knew she had only made things worse for herself.

When the last of the parishioners left, her guardian grasped her arm firmly, and he quickly strode home, almost dragging her in his wake. Alice stumbled and struggled to keep up, not wanting to further enflame him with her tardiness, but his legs were so much longer than hers and her Sunday slippers were not well suited to the rough gravel path.

Instead of the parlour, he brought Alice to his study -- the room where he composed his sermons, prayed, and slept in a small austere cot in the corner of the room. Edmund Hardwick did not believe in bodily comfort, affording himself only a narrow straw-stuffed mattress over wooden slats and a thin woollen blanket.

She eyed his

prie-dieu

warily. She remembered how it had been used when she had first, hesitatingly, admitted her secret shame of where her fingers wandered when the lights were out. She shivered in anticipation of how he might punish her today.

Although, was that shiver purely fear of her punishment, or was it something more? She knew that lying compounded one's sin, so she tried to be as honest as possible, especially with herself. Yes, the whipping had hurt -- she remembered how the knotted leather strand wrapped around her soft flesh like stinging insects, and after, opening her mouth to feel the hot, heavy length of flesh and receive the blessing of his essence had been quite a shock to her innocent mind. However, did she not then take to her bed and commit the self-same sin she for which she had just atoned? Not once, but several times over the long, lust-filled night that followed, even going so far as to grind her punished bottom into the rough blanket on her bed while she did so to add to her excitement.

She had, and secretly, she yearned to do it again.

'And so, child. You find yourself once again within these walls in need of confession.' He closed the door, and walked towards her, cornering her against the dark wood. 'What do you have to say for yourself?' he asked, his voice filled with righteous anger.

Alice swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Surely, it was no sin to be distracted? To accidentally catch the eye of another man? But, even if that were so, she knew that the throb between her legs when Seth had grinned at her, the rush of wetness evoked by the wink, were sins of the flesh. She had lusted after him in church and again when her gaze had alighted on the bulge in his tight britches. Before, she would not have known what she was seeing, but now she couldn't help but picture his fleshy staff and wonder how it would feel upon her tongue.

'Well, girl? It would behove you not to keep me waiting.'

'I'm sorry, Father. My mind was wandering.' She blushed again, remembering to where her mind had wandered. 'I was distracted when I should have been paying attention to your words.'

'Indeed,' he clipped out sharply. 'My words are a cautionary tale for all, especially a young woman such as yourself who is too easily led down the devil's decadent path to lustful pleasure.'

Her blush only deepened at the accuracy of his words. She was indeed a willing victim of wickedness. It felt so good, and she did not seem to have the strength to deny herself, no matter how much she tried to remember his stern warnings. At least, she thought, he punished her thoroughly after each infraction, and indeed this must wipe clean her sin. In fact, she was quite content with this arrangement.

She knew what came next. She must show him that she understood her sin and her need to be punished. Dropping to her knees at his feet, she bowed her head. 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.'

Whether he knew her sin was once more one of lustful thought and deed, or whether he believed she was atoning for her inattentiveness, she knew not and she was not brave enough to illuminate him.

Lifting her eyes to his, she continued, 'Please punish me so that I may be forgiven.'

Reading his expression was difficult. At first it looked like surprised satisfaction, then possibly smouldering greed, but this was quickly schooled into an authoritative sternness.

'Rest assured, my child, that whenever you require stern correction, when you have strayed from the path of righteousness, I shall be there to restore you to God's good grace.' He allowed her a benevolent smile. 'No matter how much it pains me to whip you back into shape, I will do so without hesitation with the knowledge that this is what your soul so desperately needs. Is that not so, child?'

'Yes, Father.' She truly had found her home here.

Taking his proffered hand, she gracefully rose to her feet and began to strip without any prompting from him. With each layer she shed, she felt lighter, happier to be that much closer to her punishment and his forgiveness. Seeing the approval in his eyes, she removed the last stitch of clothing, then folded it neatly before walking around to his bed to retrieve the scourge from its place on his wall. Returning to stand before him, she knelt again and offered it up to him.

'Please, Father, do not spare my flesh in your task to cast out the devil.'

'Of course, my child. Before this day is out, you will once more be pure and free of the guilt that burdens you.'

With her hand in his, she walked once more to the back of the

prie-dieu

and draped herself over it, holding herself on tiptoe to offer up the pale rounds of her unmarked buttocks to his lash.

As the first stroke fell, the sound was loud in the small, closed room, but her quiet gasp was not unnoticed by the one who wielded the tool. Her thighs trembled, but she held her position and the punishment continued.

By the tenth stroke, her bottom was on fire. The fronds of the whip had covered the pale expanse, turning it a striped red. The cruel knots had wrapped around the under curve of her cheeks, and that tender flesh was stinging with the angry bites. However, the increasing burn was starting to work its way to her forbidden folds, and these were becoming slippery with excitement. She could feel the slick slide of her petals as she moved her legs restlessly with each stroke and felt the hard nub of her clit throb in answer. Wanting more, she shuffled her legs further apart and arched her back even further.

Whether Father Edmund knew what she needed or whether the position naturally channelled the whip's path, there followed a stinging volley of hard slaps that whipped and stung her tender core. The strands slapped wetly against the swollen flesh, eliciting moans for the first time. However, despite the volume and pitch of her cries, her legs did not close. In fact, they inched ever further apart, spreading the outer petals much wider and opening her tender inner pinkness to receive its fair share of the punishment. After all, she thought, this most excitable flesh was what kept leading her astray, so surely it deserved to feel the full measure of her punishment.

Eventually, when the pain of her whipping overtook the excitement it was inducing, her quiet tears turned to genuine sobs of contrition, and Edmund finally stopped. He laid his leather whip, now damp from his sweat and her feminine honey, across the small of her back and put both hands on her well-punished cheeks, grasping firmly and parting them to see how red and welted her puffy folds had become.

He smiled, satisfied. 'Now, child. Do you believe that you have sufficiently atoned for your sin, or do you require further punishment?' He looked down at her tear-stained face as she twisted awkwardly towards him, his hands still on her striped flanks, his rough thumbs caressing the raised lines.

'I feel properly chastened.' She forced a watery smile. 'Thank you, Father.'

'Then you may rise and walk to the wooden stool in the corner, where you may sit and read from the Bible until bedtime.'

Sit on her oh, so tender bottom? Not allowed to escape to her room to tend to her throbbing clit until bedtime? That was surely crueller than the flogging! She had to change his mind.

'Please, Father, could I not atone in another way?' As he raised one eyebrow, she looked down at his robes and then back up, her expression beseeching.

'Ah, I understand. You wish to receive the communion to truly feel absolved of sin?' His gaze darkened, and her heart rate increased.

'Yes, Father. I feel as though I am not truly forgiven until I have made my penance.' Seeing his approval, she rose stiffly, hissing as the movement agitated the welts, then walked around, and knelt on the structure's padded kneeler.

Looking up at him, she licked, then parted, her full lips offering up the soft, wet cushion of her tongue to his aching flesh. If anything, it was thicker than she remembered, already salty with his essence and throbbing in the hot haven of her mouth. This time, she was not caught unawares, and she embraced her task, sucking eagerly on the staff of flesh, running her tongue along the veined underside and around the head, relishing his groans of pleasure. When he fisted her hair and started muttering the Lord's prayer under his breath, she redoubled her efforts, clutching handfuls of his raised vestments and pulling herself deeper onto his shaft, relishing the burn as she forced the thick head into her throat.

His final Amen was a long, drawn-out salutation of ecstasy, praising God for creating such a devoted penitent, and she swallowed his copious offering reverently. She wanted to please him as much as she craved his forgiveness, and knowing she had done both settled Alice's soul.

Looking dishevelled and well-satisfied, he looked down at her and stroked her cheek affectionately. 'Do you think you will pay proper attention in church next Sunday? Perhaps we should schedule a Sunday Scourging every week, so when you sit on the hard wooden pew, your sore bottom will act as a reminder should your mind start to wander?' He raised his eyebrow in question.

'Yes, Father,' She looked down, a little smile playing on her lips.

Putting himself back to rights, he dismissed her to bed without supper. She gathered her clothing but did not redress, instead choosing to lie on top of her scratchy blanket, igniting her stinging welts, relishing the burn. Spreading her bent knees as widely as possible, she could wait no longer. Both hands between her thighs, she set to work, desperately stoking the fires between her legs in the hope of soothing the ache that her strict guardian had instilled.

Although she hissed with pain as she touched her abused clit and inner petals, the torment added to her pleasure, and it didn't take long for the arousal to overwhelm her. Forgetting to muffle her moans, she rocked her hips to grind her swollen nub against the heel of her hand while pumping two fingers into her slippery hole.

The scratch of the blanket against her punished bottom, the harsh grind of her hand against her clit, the sloppy squelch of her fingers stretching out her virgin channel, were all too much. She had never before been so excited, and she knew that this would be the best orgasm she had ever experienced.

Her hammering pulse made her lightheaded, but her heart nearly stopped when the door slammed open and crashed against the wall. Silhouetted in the doorway, loomed Alice's guardian.

'What in the name of God, do you think you are doing, girl?' he thundered.

Her fingers flew from her folds, spraying juice across her belly as she slammed her thighs closed and desperately tried to cover her breasts from her guardian's furious gaze.

'You dare to compound your sin immediately after receiving absolution?'

Blinking back tears of mortification and fear at his tone, she crawled up the bed, attempting to pull the blankets around her, but as he stalked towards her, she froze like a rabbit in the sight of a hawk.

'I see now that I underestimated your wickedness. You clearly need a much firmer hand to pull you back from the very gates of Hell.'

As he bound her wrists to the stout wooden headboard, she shook her head wildly, her tears cascading down her cheeks, although in her heart she knew he was right. She could not be trusted. She simply did not have the willpower to deny her carnal urges and, although she feared his wrath, she was relieved that the responsibility of her purity had been taken from her.

'I am too disappointed in you to punish you further tonight. Tomorrow, you will have an appointment in my study, and I will inform you of what your shameful behaviour has earned you.'

And with that, he closed the door, plunging her once again into darkness. Her wet thighs rubbed impotently together, in no way relieving the throbbing ache in her clit that would plague her for the remainder of the long night.

And she knew two things.

That she deserved every moment of her torment.

And that she would receive much, much worse on the morrow.