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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Sometime later, the fire had died down in the grate and in his wayward ward's recently punished bottom, if the stilling of her frantically waggling rear end was any indication. Edmund put down his now-empty glass of wine, appropriated from his altar supplies, and rose, straightening his vestments as he strode out to the kitchen.
On finding the small glass jar of liniment that Alice had made for him that morning, he returned to the naked girl, still braced against the corner of his room, her chilled breasts and nose pressed against the uncomfortable plasterwork. Her slim, pale, wrists remained bound at the small of her back, directly above the glowing swell of her red bottom. He had to admit, she made a beautiful sight, especially as she turned her damp, reddened eyes up to him, awaiting her next instruction.
With his warm, strong hands on her upper arms, he helped her to stand and led her back to the fire. He admired her chilled nipples as they stood out pertly from her small breasts, and noted that goose pimples covered her upper body from standing in the drafty corner, despite the heat emitted by her well-roasted behind.
Feeling somewhat solicitous of her small, cold body, he pulled her onto his lap and reached around her to unbind her wrists before rubbing the circulation back into them. He enjoyed the way she relaxed against him, obviously thinking her punishment was over. Edwin indulgently luxuriated in the feel of the soft, naked flash draped across his hard, clothed body. As a man of God, he had been focussed on his theological studies and later, the needs of his thriving parish. He had not thought to take a wife, believing that such an indulgence into his baser instincts might distract him from his higher purpose. However, at this moment, he could see that the right woman could well provide succour in what had been quite a lonely existence.
However, this was not the time for either of them to be distracted from their purpose. His was to ensure that this impressionable young woman did not stray into wickedness and hers was to submit and accept his firm guidance.
'Alice, I need you to stand up and kneel at my
prie-dieu
.' She tensed when he spoke but rose without complaint. He imagined that she knew what was coming and was reassured that he hadn't instructed her to bend over it. Such a thought was premature and unfounded; however, if it gave her some comfort, he wouldn't disabuse her of it until she was in position.
Once she had knelt in place, she looked up at him and smiled shyly, moistening her lips as though in anticipation. When he made no move to lift his robes, the smile faltered.
'I believe, girl, that you have fallen into a pattern of behaviour that needs to be broken. You succumb to wickedness, then are punished, and return immediately to the same lustful behaviour that you were punished for. Is this correct?' He looked at her sternly, single dark eyebrow raised.
She looked down, ashamed. 'Yes, Father. I... try to be good, I try to think virtuous thoughts and remember my lessons, but I... keep being tempted back.' Her voice caught on a little sob, 'I find myself too weak to deny myself what I so desperately crave.' Looking at him beseechingly, tears in her eyes, she echoed what she'd first asked of him, 'Please, Father, help me.'
And he knew then that he'd failed her. She'd asked for help, and he'd only done half the job. He'd punished her for her sins, but he had not helped her to resist sinning again. In fact, he wondered if, in some way, he had enticed her to sin further. Thankfully, he had realised in time and would rectify this right now.
Cupping her tear-streaked face in one hand he stroked her soft cheek and gentled his voice. 'I understand, child, and I will give you the help you need.'
Her face lit up, and he knew this was precisely what she was crying out for. 'The pleasure you feel when you are tempted into sin is what is making it so hard for you. I will ensure that you don't feel this pleasure, and this will give you the strength to resist.' At that, she looked a little hesitant, but he was resolved to see this through.
Reaching into his pocket, he took out the jar of liniment she had made earlier.
'Do you remember the fire that the ginger lit when it was lodged in your tight little punishment hole?' He chuckled at the look on her face. 'Well, of course you do. That's not a lesson you'll forget quickly, is it, girl?' She shifted uneasily on the kneeler, clearly not liking one bit where this was going. 'Well, the chillies you prepared earlier are a good ten times hotter, and they are going to burn away any pleasure you may have felt when naughty fingers stray where they shouldn't.'
'Oh, please, Father, I don't think I could bear it.' She looked up at him, wide eyes damp and lips trembling. 'Could you not use ginger instead? It burned so hot; I know it would help me to stay pure.'
'No, child. You have confessed that the pleasure is so great that would not be enough to deter you. We need to really give you a taste of the fiery pits of Hell which await your immortal soul if you do not desist in your wicked ways.' She gave a small moan of terror at his words.
'Now, as it is your greedy little fingers that have been poisoning your very soul with sin, it will be those same fingers that administer the fiery antidote. Dip them into the salve and apply it to those areas that tingle and throb and incite you to wickedness.'
