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. British English spellings are used throughout. Troll comments will be deleted with extreme prejudice.

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The pain-punishment of Alice's nightly self-pleasure had become something she could no longer live without, and she was determined not to go a day without experiencing it. While it had begun as a way of assuaging her guilt, ensuring that she paid the penance of Hellfire even whilst she experienced the rapture of the sins of the flesh, she realised now that the burn was an integral part of her pleasure. Now, the thought of touching herself without such cleansing pain felt somehow empty, almost as though she had been cheated of her due. Whether Father Edmund's firm hand had taught her to associate agony with ecstasy or if she had always had such an inclination, she might never know. But she wouldn't change it for anything. It felt so good, so right, she believed that it must surely be God's will.

Although she hoped that Edmund, an advocate of self-flagellation, might approve of her own administration of the chilli liniment he instructed her to make, she was not confident enough of that outcome to tell him what she was doing. Deep down, she believed that he would likely demand that she abstain from the act, rather than continue giving in to temptation and be punished for it. This left her in a rather precarious situation.

The jar of liniment was very nearly empty.

Alice tried her best to be a good and dutiful ward, and in recent days, Edmund had found no reason to punish her. She had, however, undergone her weekly Sunday Scourgings that he had instigated to ensure that she paid unwavering attention in church. This, he considered to be more an ongoing lesson than a punishment session.

Every Sunday without fail, her poor, vulnerable cheeks had been striped most thoroughly with his plaited leather whip, after which Edmund made her sit for the interminably long sermons with only the scratchy wool of her Sunday dress between her bare bottom and the hard wooden pew. Like most God-fearing young women, she did not wear any undergarment aside from her thin cotton shift because it was considered quite scandalous to wear any fabric so close to one's private areas. On Sundays, she was not even allowed to wear this thin barrier, which would have brought her some comfort from the unforgiving fibres that continued to punish her ravaged flesh long after the whipping had ended.

However, she was ever mindful that should he ask her to bring the pot and find it empty, that would be a conversation that would highly likely add to her woes. There was only one thing for it; she was going to have to make some more before he discovered her nightly activities.

Now, this was easier said than done as the chillies only grew in the exotic hothouse up at the manor, and she wasn't allowed out unsupervised. However, providence smiled on her that very day, and Alice took this as a sign of divine intervention.

'Mr Thatcher, as you know, has been ailing for some time, and I've just had word that he is asking for me,' Father Edmund proclaimed as he donned his cloak and hat. 'Gather your things quickly, girl. I may have need of you.'

Alice did not immediately rise from her mending beside the fire. Instead, she curled further into herself, looking up at him with a most pitiful countenance. 'As you wish, Father,' she croaked out, moving unsteadily as if to rise, then, clutching her head in a manner she felt was surely worthy of any playhouse stage, collapsing back to her chair.

'Alice, child! What ails you?' Instead of his usually stern demeanour, Edmund looked most concerned as he stroked her hair back from her warm forehead. Sitting cosily by the fire had served her well.

'Oh, Father. I am beset with pains and chills into my very bones. But of course, I will come with you to help tend to your flock,' she offered up, coughing weakly.

'I will not hear of it, child! A cough like that could carry off Mr Thatcher in an instant. No, I must insist that you stay abed today to rest.' Edmund really was quite strict, and Alice couldn't deny that this always gave her a little thrill.

'As you say, Father. I'm sure I'll be much improved by the time you return home.' Alice looked down at her clasped hands to hide her small smile of triumph.

As soon as she heard Father Edmund's mare trotting briskly down the lane, Alice was up and out of the house, quickly walking the half mile across the fields to the kitchen of the big house to ask again for chillies for Father Edmund. Thankfully, Cook did not question her, although Alice blanched when she remarked that Father Edmund would find them especially efficacious as they had just taken receipt of a new plant, a gift from a guest who had recently returned from South America, and that this variety was renowned for its especially fiery properties.

Chillies carefully wrapped in her pocket, she was making her way back when she happened by the forge and caught a glimpse of Seth Blackstone pounding red hot metal at his anvil. Shirtless, with a sheen of sweat highlighting the cording of his muscles in the light of the forge fire, he cut an impressive figure. She couldn't see his face from the door of the smithy, but she feasted her eyes on the expanse of his broad back, the curve of his backside, and the way his thick thighs filled out his leather britches.

She knew it was a sin to look upon him with lustful thoughts, but in her apron, she had exactly what she needed to atone. Surely this too must be part of some divine plan. She would allow herself a few minutes to look upon this man, this angel sent from Heaven itself, before going home to prepare the means of her own punishment. Slipping into the smithy, she tucked herself out of sight, and not a moment too soon, as a maid entered bearing a mug of ale.

Seth turned, exposing his heavily furred chest to her greedy eyes, and grinned at the maid.

'Well, now here's a sight for sore eyes. I've worked up quite a thirst, and along comes an angel of mercy to quench it.' He winked as she giggled prettily and looked up at him from under her lashes.

'Oh, Seth, you always did have a silver tongue.' The maid shamelessly ran her fingers along his muscular bicep. 'At least, that's what the village girls say,' she smirked up at him provocatively, and his grin widened.

'Come now, Flora. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be listening to such gossip.' Flora raised her eyes to him, unsure for a moment if she was being chastised. 'Happen you should decide for yourself!'

Downing the mug of ale before wiping his lips on the back of his hand, he belched approvingly and pulled Flora to him with one thick arm around her waist and kissed her enthusiastically. He trailed his full lips down her neck into the décolletage of her bodice, with her giggling and playfully batting him away in a show of mock outrage as his scratchy beard left a blush on her tender skin.

Taking hold of Flora's hips as he backed her against his work bench, he hoisted her onto its scarred surface. Pushing aside the tools of his trade, he gathered her skirts around her waist, revealing woollen stockings tied with pink silk ribbons.

'Flora, you saucy minx! Did you wear these ribbons for me?' Looking down at what he had unwrapped, he smiled broadly. 'I like them very well.'

Falling to his knees on the dirt floor, he kissed up her thighs smiling up at her, looking very much like the barn cat when he was about to devour a plump mouse. 'Such a good girl to give me a gift. And now you shall get your reward.' And with that, he pushed his broad shoulders between her thighs, opening her widely to his gaze, and then set to work, licking, sucking, and feasting at her tender folds like a man starved.

Alice was rapt. She had never witnessed such an erotic show, and she could not take her eyes off the scene before her. Seth was... tasting that girl right there in front of her, his eager tongue in her most shameful of places. She had never imagined that such a thing was possible, but now that she saw it, now she'd heard the wanton moaning that was coming from the prostate girl, seeing the way that she tugged at Seth's damp hair, grinding her hips into his face as though she couldn't get enough, Alice realised that she could very much imagine how good it felt. And she wanted to feel it for herself.

From her hidden position behind him, she could see every inch of the girl's womanhood, her spread petals flushed a deep pink, glistening slickly from Seth's tongue and her copious honey. Alice had never even seen her own secret places, let alone those of another woman. She wondered if she looked like that. Was that what Edmund had seen when he caught her with her fingers between her thighs? When he punished her folds? She flushed a deep crimson at the thought but found herself even more aroused by the accompanying shame.

And now the girl was coming, moaning throatily, and thrashing about as she forced Seth's face harder between her legs. He had freed her ample breasts from her tight bodice, and they were currently overspilling his large, powerful hands as he gripped them hard, almost as though he was afraid she would buck him off.

Finally spent, Flora quieted, and Seth pulled back, his beard dripping with her essence as he licked his lips appreciatively and wiped his face on her rumpled underskirts.

'I reckon you liked that, love. Now, how about you give me a kiss for my troubles?' As the maid pushed herself, somewhat unsteadily, to sitting, he gestured down to his straining britches and began to unlace them.

Propping herself on her elbows and making no move to cover her modesty, she smirked saucily and ran her fingers down to her swollen folds. 'Oh, I think I can do better than that. I'd wager you know how to give a maid pleasure without putting a babe in her.' Spreading her legs wider and resting her heels on the table, she continued, 'You can tumble me if you like, as long as you have a care not to plant your seed.'

Seth stilled for a moment, 'Oh no, Flora, my girl, I'll not be falling for the Parson's mousetrap. I'll be saving my tupping for the good girl that I'll marry.' At the sight of her fallen expression, her lips pursed in a moue of disappointment, he relented. 'I suppose I could go round the back door,' he smirked, 'as befits a man of my station.'

Flora seemed to be considering his offer, although what he meant by this, Alice had not the first idea.

'You know I'll make it good for you,' he said cajolingly. 'I've had no complaints.'

'Well, as I don't listen to idle gossip, I'll be the judge of that.' She flopped back down and pulled her knees to her chest. 'About your work then, I don't have all day!' she retorted haughtily.

'Saucy trollop!' he laughed, slapping her fleshy buttock, then finished unbracing his britches and pulled out his impressive staff.

Alice had fantasised about what Seth had hidden inside his britches since that day in church she had been caught looking. But even her overactive imagination had not conjured the full measure of such an impressive tool. The shaft was thick and heavily veined with a ruddy crown and a thick pelt of dark hair at its base. Beneath this, she could see a heavy sac, which she could only imagine was filled with his virile seed. Father Edmund was not nearly as well-endowed as the man before her, and yet she had found herself having to swallow several times to accept all of his essence.

She could only imagine how much such a large, well-formed specimen as the blacksmith had to offer. Her mouth watered, and it was all she could do not to slip her hand under her skirts. However, she steeled herself to resist such a temptation -- she did not have her salve. She could not afford to get caught, so she just pressed her thighs together in an ineffectual attempt to soothe the ache.

And yet, the maid was showing no signs of offering her mouth to ease him. And when Seth spat on his hand and rubbed it along his man flesh then spat again and rubbed it into her back hole, Alice's eyes widened. He couldn't! Surely, he wouldn't attempt to force his member into her forbidden hole? That was beyond depraved! And yet, there he was, rubbing that thick, flushed crown against her tightly closed freckle. It was never going to fit, surely he could see that? But the man was diligent, and with several more fingerfuls of spit, hands pulling her cheeks apart, and the girl huffing and panting as though she was whelping a litter of pups, he managed to get the head inside her, quickly followed by the shaft.

What followed was a carnal rutting more fit for the beasts of the field than a lovers' tryst. Seth's britches were now mid-thigh, and she could very much appreciate the way his firm buttocks flexed with every sharp thrust of his hips. The girl had moved her hand down and was diddling her clit quite roughly as she was ploughed, and it did not take long before both were coming lustily to a chorus of groans and cries. It was lucky for them that the door was shut, and that the smithy was far from the main house, or they'd both be facing the lord's wrath.

As the couple lay locked together in the aftermath, Alice knew she must take her leave. She needed to get home to make fresh liniment before Edmund realised she was missing. But more than that, the need to relive what she had just seen, to imagine herself in the lucky girl's position receiving Seth's skilful tonguing, then his thick member into her tiny punishment hole, all the while rubbing the fiery ointment into her aching bud, was almost too much to bear. Slipping from the barn, she ran the whole way home and was relieved to find that Edmund had not yet returned.

Now that she knew the recipe, the liniment was not hard to make, and within 30 minutes she had a fresh pot cooling, hidden from sight under her bed. The new chillies had made her eyes water most grievously, and her fingers had tingled and stung where the juice touched her skin, but this was clearly what she needed after witnessing such unabashed wickedness earlier.

She couldn't wait.

---

When Edmund returned home later that evening, his thoughts were on the parishioner to whom he'd had to administer the last rights. It was a blessing, he mused, that George Thatcher would no longer suffer and had returned to God's arms. Would that we could all have such a peaceful passing, with our family around us. Family. A wife, children, and grandchildren. None of whom he himself had to comfort him in his dotage. Who would mourn his passing when it was his time to meet the Almighty? His thoughts turned to Alice.

As he entered the parlour, he realised that she was no longer sitting where he had left her by the fire. Poor Alice, who was so unwell this morning. How could he have left her to suffer unaided all day? What if she had been calling for him, all alone in her time of need?

Hearing a cry from the bedroom, he cursed himself and ran to her door, bursting in to find her lying limply in her tangled covers. Her sweaty skin was reddened, a flush covered her cheeks, throat and chest, and her clothing was dishevelled. Her plump, reddened lips were slightly open as she panted, and her eyes were glassy as she looked at him with a sleepy, satisfied smile on her face.

The poor girl was clearly fevered, but through her suffering, she'd seen he was home and was comforted by his presence.

'It's alright now, child, I am here.'

---

Father Edmund coming in immediately after her tumultuous orgasm, which had blazed through her whole body and left her boneless and sated, was so close to disaster it had made the whole experience that much more exhilarating. She'd fallen asleep quickly, with him stroking her hair and cooling her flushed face and neck with a damp cloth. It felt so lovely to be taken care of, and she really couldn't have been more content.

That is, until many hours later when she woke from such a nightmare that there was no going back to sleep. She'd been in the clutches of a devil, who'd held her down and lapped at her folds with his fiery tongue, then scorched her punishment hole with his glowing hot shaft. It was the wages of the sin she'd earned today by not confessing.

She'd been generous with her use of the burning ointment, and she had certainly found the intense suffering it produced to be 'most efficacious' as the cook had suggested, but she had deceived her guardian and accepted Edmund's kindness and care when she didn't deserve it. She had been lusting after another man, even thinking that perhaps she could be the good girl that Seth was saving himself for.

She felt wretched. Until she could confess her sins and properly atone for them, there would be no more rest for her, and she would live in fear for her immortal soul.

And so it was that once again, she found herself trembling in the hallway outside Edmund's study, awaiting a reckoning.

Raising her hand to the dark wood, she knocked and readied herself for what was to come.

---

Edmund had been lying awake in his narrow cot. However, it was not the discomfort of the meagre mattress, a worldly consideration that he chose to rise above. Instead, it was concerns about his delectable young ward, Alice. Whenever he thought of her, which was more often than he thought was probably healthy, he was pulled from pillar to post by the angel and devil on his shoulders. The angel beseeched him to keep an authoritative distance from the impressionable young thing. Punish her and guide her with an impassive hand. However, the devil whispered of her delectable sweetness, and like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, he knew that she was ripe and ready to be plucked. Oh, the ways in which he wanted to pluck her.

It was on the horns of this dilemma, which had his hand reaching for his impressively stiff cock, that he heard the tentative knock on his door. It seemed that he was not the only one awake at this hour.

Lighting the candle, he rose from his bed, adjusting his nightgown to hide his tumescence, which had in no way abated at the knowledge that Alice had willingly come to his bedchamber in the middle of the night. Opening the heavy door, he looked down at the girl, shivering in her thin night rail.

There was silence for a moment, Alice clearly waiting for him to speak, for an instruction to come in, for him to take control. When he did not, letting her stew in anxiety, she eventually plucked up the courage to announce her intentions.

'Forgive me for awakening you at this late hour, Father,' she ventured. When he still did not speak, but just raised an eyebrow in question, she continued, 'I find my soul burdened and in need of guidance.'

With a serious countenance, he nodded his acquiescence, gesturing her towards the kneeler that had become a regular feature in her visits to his study.

Seeing how the thin cotton clung to the tips of her chilled nipples, he was again tempted to take full advantage of his position; however, she had been most unwell only the previous day and he felt compelled to nurture and protect her, even from his own baser nature.

'What new wickedness burdens you this night? It seems that you have much to confess to me of late. Have my lessons not had the desired effect of leading you to the path of righteousness?' he asked darkly. While he loved that she came to him for forgiveness for her every lustful thought, it would not do to let her know how much pleasure it gave him.