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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In the days that followed her punishment, Alice found herself reliving Edmund's thrilling, painful mastery over her. She revelled in the marks that he had left on her normally milk-white skin, contorting herself while standing on her bed to view them in the candlelight reflecting off her darkened window. She found that pressing on the raised welts while rubbing the chilli liniment into her clit was guaranteed to bring her to a quick and explosive climax, and she indulged in this guilty pleasure nightly.

She couldn't stop her mind wandering to the candle phallus he'd had her carve, a loving recreation of Seth Blackstone's impressive member, albeit at a slightly reduced scale. The single touch of it against her slick folds before her guardian had put a sharp stop to its progress had been heavenly. Edmund had threatened to display the phallus on his bedroom wall (the temptation of having it on hers obviously too great), as a reminder to her of how it could be used to torment her punishment hole. However, when he realised that having another man's member above his bed was unseemly for a respected man of the cloth, he chose instead to lock it in the pantry, along with all the other candles, lest she take it upon herself to carve another tool for her self-pleasure.

With her thoughts so much on Seth's manhood, it was perhaps little wonder that she could not stop thinking about how his actual cock could make her feel. And not just his thick staff, but also his skilful tongue that had worked such magic between the maid's legs. Edmund's insistence that she re-enact his tonguing using the chilli salve to liberally stroke her most tender folds, while initially agonising, did turn into a most pleasurable burn, but this was no substitute for the real thing.

And now that the idea had taken hold, the devil on her shoulder whispered of all the delicious delights she had yet to experience until Alice was decided that she would not rest until she had sampled all the pleasures that the burly blacksmith could offer her. If she could also prove to him that she could be the perfect wife he had been looking for, so much the better. She knew that what happened in the marriage bed was sanctified by God, indeed it was her duty to please her husband, and she wished above all things to be free to do just that. As often, in as many exciting ways, as possible.

As luck would have it, the annual Hocktide festival, which was held on the Monday and Tuesday of the second week after Easter, was nearly upon them. Such festivities were a welcome break from the austerity of Lent, especially in Edmund's house, where he took the practice of self-denial, fasting, abstinence, and mortifying the flesh very seriously. Having had to bend for her Sunday Scourgings without allowing herself any relief from the throbbing this inevitably engendered, the only concession towards self-denial that she allowed herself, was hard for her to bear, but she had tried to do so with stoicism and obedience.

As was customary, pies and pastries were baked, and ale brewed for the festivities to raise monies for the church. Alice would be baking her own apple pies and would be required to collect offerings from around the village for the fayre that would be taking place on the village green. This gave her the perfect opportunity to visit Seth and show him what a good wife she would make.

The following day, as three of her large, golden pies sat cooling by the kitchen window, it was no great task to wrap the smaller pie she had made for Seth in a muslin cloth and tuck it, still warm, into her apron. Feeling the heat rising at the apex of her thighs while she walked the half mile to the smithy, it was unclear how much was due to the freshly baked pie and how much the anticipation of what Seth might do in his gratitude. Flora had merely brought him a mug of ale and was pleasured enthusiastically, whereas she had gone to considerable trouble to bake and decorate the piecrust with little pastry hearts. Surely, her reward would be all the sweeter?

Arriving at the smithy, Alice boldly pushed open the door and took a moment to admire the man at work. He truly was a paragon of manhood, and she was mesmerised by the beads of sweat that trickled down the planes of his muscled back. Her mouth watered as she wondered how they would taste if she were to chase them with her tongue.

As the breeze reached the man, he turned, his face breaking into a broad grin as he spied her lurking in the doorway.

'Well, now, hello there, lass. Alice, isn't it? From the rectory? I didn't think that Father Hardwick let you out anywhere on your own.' Quenching the red hot metal he'd been working in the barrel by his side, the angry hiss brought her out of her reverie, and she froze, her courage ebbing as he moved towards her. 'What can I do for a pretty girl like you today?'

Alice blushed deeply, inordinately pleased that he thought her pretty.

Moving past her to close the forge door, he ushered her towards the glow of the fire, the main source of light in the shadowy space.

Trying to recreate the practised flirtation she'd seen from Flora, she smiled at him as she reached both hands into the pocket of her apron.

'I... have something to give you,' she ventured. Seeing the curious tilt of his raised eyebrow, she continued. 'Something I've saved especially for you.'

'You have, have you lass? You always were a good girl, weren't you?' She blushed again, nodding. 'And now you've got something you'd like to give me?' He eyed her hands deep in the pocket of her apron with approval.

Seeing that she had captured his interest, she gained confidence, smiling coquettishly as she continued, 'I thought you might like a taste?'

'Oh, yes, I most assuredly do want to taste what you've saved for me, sweet Alice,' he agreed, and, sitting on the edge of his workbench, he tucked one thick finger under the waistband of her apron and slowly pulled her towards him, smirking playfully as the small distance disappeared.

With her hands now trapped between them as she stood between his thighs, she could feel the hard press of his arousal and gasped as she looked into his hooded eyes; eyes that were now opening in surprise as the warmth of the pie heated his crotch.

'Now, that's a very needy quim you have there, lass! 'Tis hotter than the forge fire betwixt your thighs!' he chuckled as he grabbed her hips and pulled her even closer.

Pulling back, she released her trapped hands and brought out the slightly battered pie. The sweet filling has started to soak the soft cloth and the smell of spices fragranced the air.

Crestfallen, she offered up the sticky bundle. 'I wanted to give you a taste of what I could offer you, but now it's ruined, and you won't want to sample it.'

'Oh, no, lass. I want to taste it very much.' His blown pupils and hungry grin confirmed his claim, and yet his hands tightened on her hips rather than taking the ruined pie. 'You've made my mouth water, lass.'

It was all Alice could do to set the pie down before he had a hand in her hair as he dragged her mouth to his for a lusty kiss. All fantasies she had had about how her first kiss would feel were nothing to the way his mouth took control of hers. While his beard tickled her most delightfully, his lips were surprisingly soft, and, at her gasp, his tongue made itself at home, dancing with her own in a way that was both devilish and divine. So caught up in the kiss was she that she was unaware he had unlaced her bodice until she felt a breeze kiss her breast, and oh, how had she lived her whole life without his strong, calloused hands upon her?

Before she knew it, she was laid back on the workbench, both breasts freed from her bodice and her skirts up around her waist. His weight was still upon her as his kisses continued to drive her mad with lust. Surely, this was the very pinnacle of pleasure?

She whined in disappointment as he pulled away, leaving her drawing in great gulps of heated air as he straightened and looked down at her with a smug smile to see how mindless she had become from his kisses alone.

'Now, what's this about me tasting the sweet treat you've saved for me?' He winked as he dropped to his knees and stroked her glistening inner thighs.

The first swipe of his tongue between her folds had her keening with pleasure, and her hands involuntarily buried themselves in his shaggy hair, dragging him to where she needed him most.

He chuckled wetly, 'Easy kitten. It's too good a job to rush, lass.'

'But I need...' she moaned as he sucked her aching clit between his lips.

'Oh, yeah, I know what you need, girl,' he laughed as he did it again.

Panting, she tried to focus on making words. She had to make him understand.

'I need... to taste you, too.' She had been dreaming about how he would fill her mouth since that first day in church, and the carved phallus was a poor substitute. Besides, how could she impress upon him that she was his perfect bride if she could not demonstrate all she had to offer?

At first, Alice couldn't understand what Seth was saying as she had her thighs wrapped so tightly about his face. However, as he pushed them apart and back to her chest to free himself, she was able to see that by his wolfish grin that her words gained his full attention.

He stood to his full height, beard dripping with her honey and his hands on her thighs nigh on folding her in half. 'Well, they do say that turnabout is fair play,' and with that, her whole world was turned upside down as he spun her on the worn bench. Now, naked from the waist down, her splayed legs were halfway up the forge wall, and her head was hanging off the table in front of him, hair brushing the dusty floor at his feet.

'Well now, lass, that's most generous of you. Bringing me a taste then offering me a whole feast,' he chuckled, taking in her jiggling breasts and glistening sex, 'It'd be rude not to return the favour.' And with that, he deftly unbraced his britches and fisted his thick prick, giving it a few leisurely tugs. With his cockstaff so close to her face, she could smell his sweat and musk and see how red and angry it looked. She was almost scared now as it was so large and so threateningly close but the need to taste him overrode her fear, and she opened her mouth to welcome him inside.

'That's my girl,' he groaned, as he eased the heavy weight of him inside. If she'd had breath to do so, she would have sighed happily because, at that moment, she truly was his girl. 'Wider now, sweetheart, I've quite a bit more to give you.' And, indeed, he did, as he continued to feed her his thick meat until it brushed the back of her throat, making her choke.

Holding her down gently but firmly, with a large hand between her breasts, he pulled back, murmuring, 'Deep breath now, love,' before forcing the full length down her slender throat. Alice's shocked gurgle was soon replaced with a muffled mewl of pleasure as Seth bent over her to feast, once again, on her heated flesh.

Alice's hands, flailing for something, anything, to ground herself, grasped the blacksmith's muscled arse, and she hung on for dear life as he pumped rhythmically into her tight throat. As he pulled out, allowing her to take a desperate sip of breath, bubbling strings of saliva cascaded down her cheeks into her hair, and she felt herself to be very debauched indeed. The animal growls of pleasure that she felt rumbling in her sex as Seth rutted her mouth excited her beyond reason, and she thrashed against his hold on her thighs as he sucked hard on her throbbing clit. Dear Lord in Heaven, she was going to come so hard she felt she would surely pass out. Just one... more...

But then Seth jerked back, his cock pulled roughly from her throat, and she cried out at the agony of its loss.

'How. Dare. You! Unhand my ward this very instant!'

And while Seth did his best to comply, he was too far gone to withhold the ropes of hot, salty seed as he released himself all over her face, hair, and breasts. Choking for another reason, Alice struggled to right herself and found herself looking at an enraged Edmund, bearing down upon them like an avenging angel.

Denied and defiled, Alice tried desperately to rid herself of the ocean of Seth's spend using her dishevelled underskirts. All this seemed to do was highlight how the musky essence limned her skin with a pearlescent sheen in the light from the forge while exposing the flush of the beard rash on her soft underbelly and the ripeness of her swollen, juicy quim which was still fluttering from the aftermath of her ruined orgasm.

'Father.. I..' She faltered into silence. What could she say? It was abundantly clear what she had been doing, and she could hardly suggest that she had been taken advantage of. Indeed, it was she who had set out to seduce Seth, and rather effectively too.

Seth, while easily twice the size of the priest, was standing sheepishly in front of Edmund, eyes downcast in the face of the older man's righteous anger.

Alice realised, with a sinking feeling of icy dread that doused the remaining ardour in her blood, that he would not be coming to her rescue.

---

Looking past the blacksmith, Edmund's eyes focussed on Alice, who had done her best to set her clothing to rights but was still the very image of a well-tumbled trollop. However, instead of the sleepy satisfaction one might expect from such a union, her eyes were wide with fear and trepidation as she waited for him to pass sentence.

'You realise what this means, I trust?'

At this ominous declaration, both parties looked understandably anxious, although maybe for different reasons. The man, perchance, thought he'd be strongarmed into wedlock for corrupting his young ward. As though he'd allow this oaf the honour of taking such a girl to wed! That would never happen. He could, however, make a case to the Bishop that he be banished to work for some obscure monastic order. Something to consider if he continued to sniff after his ward. The girl, however, was probably fearfully imagining what punishment he could devise to justly reward her for her sinful behaviour. And well she might.

'You,' he pointed an accusing finger at the cowering girl, 'have two choices. Firstly, you can submit yourself to public justice. You will strip to your shift and be locked in the pillory in the village square for the remainder of the day, whereupon you can face the judgement of the parish as they see how far you have fallen from grace.'

Alice's face blanched and she looked at him beseechingly, 'Please not that, Father. Anything but that.'

While Edmund was aware she had a taste for humiliation, whether she knew it or not, he believed that she would not enjoy the shame of everyone knowing how she had debauched herself with Blackstone. This was not his option of choice either, truth be told. It reflected badly on him that he, a respected man of God, could not control the girl under his own roof, and he much preferred taking things into his own hands. No, she wouldn't be punished publicly in such a way.

'I see that this does not appeal to you, girl. Then, all that is left is for you to be disciplined privately, right here and now.' The girl looked relieved and nodded vehemently. 'It will, however, need to be especially severe to make up for the fact that you are not making a public confession.' The look of relief faded, and Edmund smirked cruelly. Good. It would not do to show mercy for such a serious violation of his trust, let alone the divine laws of common decency.

'And you,' he pointed to Blackstone, 'also have two choices.' The man swallowed audibly, glancing at Alice and then immediately away. 'Firstly, you may take responsibility for corrupting this innocent girl and take the whipping upon yourself.' For such a strong man, he didn't appear to be keen to offer himself up for this option. 'Or, if you feel that the sin rests firmly with my ward, you may administer the thrashing yourself.' At that, the man's face brightened, and it seemed to take Blackstone considerable effort for him to quash his grin and look suitably serious.

'Well, Father, now you come to mention it, the fact of the matter was that the girl came to me and offered her virtues quite freely. Happen a whipping would go a long way to setting her back on the path of virtue.' Alice's wounded glare appeared to have no effect on the man who was now drawing himself up to his full height, confidence restored now he was no longer in the line of fire.

'So be it.' Edmund declared.

There were many interesting items in the smithy that could be used to chastise a wayward girl, and Edmund found himself quite spoiled for choice. As Blackstone was also the local farrier, there were leather straps and riding crops as well as a variety of metal implements and tools which he felt were too harsh for the girl's fair skin. The wood for the fire included kindling twigs that could be bundled into a birch rod, but a cursory glance showed that these were not long or supple enough to do a decent job. A thought for another day, perhaps.

If this were a chastisement for a lesser misdemeanour, then he felt a riding crop would have done the job. However, this shocking coupling was no spontaneous act of passion. Instead, it had taken careful forward planning and wilful deception, and that called for an altogether more memorable implement.

Choosing a study carriage whip, he had Blackstone drape his leather apron over the anvil - it wouldn't do to chill the girl as she was being warmed up, now would it? The whip would leave satisfyingly dark welts that would last for over a week and would give Alice much to think on in the days to come. He would leave it up to Blackstone to decide how many she deserved, but he supposed half a dozen would make a strong case for changing her wicked ways.

Alice had watched in horror as the scene of her punishment was set, and she stood looking from one man to the other, her arms hugging her slender body as though this could protect her from what was to come.

'Strip, girl and assume the position for your strokes.' When Alice didn't move to obey, seemingly frozen in place, he continued, 'This is what you begged for, is it not? It is not too late to change your mind and have you bend for the...'

'No, please, Father,' she begged as she began to disrobe hurriedly, 'allow me to make my penance with you.' His member, already partially aroused from the scene he had witnessed, now twitched with interest as he recalled how she customarily made her penance.

Whether Alice knew that she would not be allowed to wear her shift, or if she was just keen show him her contrition, she did not stop until she had stripped off every stitch of clothing. Then, sucking in a breath of courage, she approached the anvil with reluctant steps, like a condemned soul walking to the scaffold, draping herself over the worn leather covering.

Blackstone picked up the carriage whip and whisked it through the air a couple of times, making Alice stiffen and glance behind her in trepidation, before positioning himself a fair distance from her vulnerable nates to ensure a good swing. Edmund, meanwhile, crouched in front of her and held both her hands firmly in his.