"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been...a long time since my last confession."
"Be specific, my child. How long has it been?"
Theresa glanced away for a moment, furrowing her brows.
"My last confession was maybe...a week before my eighteenth birthday. So...a few months ago."
James nodded in understanding.
"And what sins do you have to confess?"
"Well...I've taken the Lord's name in vain. A lot, actually. I've disrespected my parents and siblings. I've...lied to some people. Nothing big, just little lies, but they're lies anyway."
He nodded again, this time encouragingly.
"Uh...I've also been mean to people, and unkind, and uncharitable. Didn't share things I should've or could've shared. Talked behind people's backs. Gossiping a little bit, stuff like that. I try not to but it's super easy sometimes."
He stroked his chin contemplatively. After a deep breath, she pressed on.
"Um...I've had some...impure thoughts, you know, about boys, about doing things with them..."
Those confessions provoked embarrassment. A heat crept up her neck, accompanied by a slight blush. She started to squirm, her mind moving to those thoughts she had just confessed to. Across the desk, his eyes flickered from her face to her legs. Her own peek down showed her skirt riding up, showing off more of her thighs, the pale flesh available for ogling. When she looked back up, he had managed to do the same, their gazes meeting, both aware of what he had been looking at but neither deigning to acknowledge it.
"Any more sins to confess?" he managed to ask.
She bit her lip, the heat reaching her cheeks, the blush deepening.
"I've...touched myself. Often. Is...is that a sin?"
His eyes did not move from hers. She forced herself to keep up her gaze as well.
"That would depend. On the context."
"Context?"
He nodded.
"It would depend on why you were touching yourself, perhaps where you were when you did. What you were thinking about. Had you been thinking, for example, about a married man, that would be a sin. Coveting a neighbor's spouse."
She bit her lip again, the blush by now reigning over her face.
"What about if I had been thinking about a priest?"
His eyes widened but he recovered quickly.
"That could be considered a sin. Although it would depend further on if you have plans to act on the thought."
She shifted in the chair, her thighs rubbing together, arousal following the blush.
"Any more sins to confess?"
She thought for a second, and then shook her head.
"No, Father."
"Very well then. For your penance, say seven 'Hail Mary's, seven 'Our Father's, and six 'Glory Be's. Twenty prayers in all."
"And...is that all?"
He leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes on her, those dark brown orbs difficult to read.
"That depends as well."
His eyes flickered once again to her legs. She found herself wanting to spread them just a little, to reward that daring. But she did not, only blushing a bit hotter, more arousal surfacing amid the heat.
"On what?"
His eyes returned to hers, a certain strange interest appearing in them.
"Are you truly sorry for what you've confessed?"
She frowned.
"I am."
"Remember now: confession only works if you're truly sorry. If you hope, and will try, to not repeat the same sin."
"I am, I'm truly sorry."
His eyes did not leave hers. A steeliness joined the strange interest.
"Sometimes we confess sins we're not truly sorry for, because we think the act of confessing is what cleanses us. It's not. Only by the grace of God can we be cleansed."
She nodded.
"And some people confess sins but in their hearts accept that they will commit those same sins soon."
She nodded again.
"For example, sins of lust are often confessed, but then committed again. You just confessed to having impure thoughts about a priest. Of course, they might arise unbidden, or you might choose to summon them. If it's the latter...do you imagine you will do so again anytime soon?"
The arousal spread steadily, her body aflame. She swallowed nervously.
"I...don't know."
His eyes narrowed.
"If you're not able to answer more confidently, then perhaps you weren't truly sorry to begin with."
"I am, Father, I'm sorry, I swear it."
He did not answer, only looking back at her, eyes still narrowed.
A brief silence fell in his office, the uncertainty of the moment making her squirm more.
And then a dangerous gleam arose in his eyes.
"Perhaps in this case...more is required than penitential prayers."
She frowned, still uncertain of his intentions. The blush on her face refused to calm.
"Come here," the priest said firmly, beckoning her over with a crooked finger.
She stood, immediately conscious of his eyes flickering to her legs as her skirt rustled to her movements. His eyes returned to her face, but took their time moseying along her figure, adding to her arousal. She padded around the desk, stopping next to his chair. A small smile tugged at his mouth. He eased his chair back and gestured for her to step into the space between it and the desk.
When she slipped into that space, facing away from him, she heard the chair slide back further. Footsteps clicked on the floor, and then he sidled up next to her. His eyes were on her again. She shuddered at the way he studied her, those dark brown orbs boring perceptively into her.
"I've come to learn," he began, speaking softer now, almost seductively, "that not every member of my flock is the same. What works for one might not for another. It's an important lesson for any priest to learn. This, I believe, is one of those cases. Given what you've told me, something special might be in order to make sure you truly repent."
She bit her lip.
"Like what?"
He nodded to the desk.
"Bend over."
Her eyes widened.
"But, Father..."
"Sometimes strange measures are required for the truly obscene among us, my child. Now...bend over."
The last two words jettisoned the softer, gentler tones of the rest of the sentences, displaying a stern sharpness that did not brook even the slightest defiance. She bent over quickly, feeling her arousal mount higher as her skirt rode up, showing off more of her thighs. Her cheek came to rest on the wood of the desk, that coolness contrasting with the heat overwhelming her body. She let her arms stretch out, her fingers curling around the forward edge of the desk.
A hand landed on the small of her back.
"Good girl."
She cooed at the praise despite her embarrassment and uncertainty.
Another hand began to tug her skirt up.
"Wait!" she squealed, jerking in surprise. "What're you doing?"
The hand on the small of her back pressed down pointedly.
"I think it's better to take an alternative tack with you. Trust me."
She shook her head but otherwise stayed still. Her arousal increased dangerously as her skirt was tugged up further, revealing not just the pale swathes of her upper thighs, but also her panties, the red fabric the only defense between her swiftly slickening sex and his attention.
"This doesn't seem very...priestly."
He did not answer. Although she could not see him, she was aware of his gaze on her, specifically on her ass, the pert cheeks on display.
"Twenty prayers," he said simply.
She nodded, a shudder washing over her.
"And twenty spanks."
She mewled, a stronger shudder following.
"Twenty?"
"Yes. Twenty."
She did not move, keeping herself bent over before him, trembling at the promise of oncoming punishment.
"Count them out."
His voice had switched again from soft to firm.
"Yes, Father."
There was silence behind her for a few seconds.
The first smack landed hard, echoing loudly in the quiet office.
Her squeal bled into a word.
"One!"
His other hand stroked at the small of her back, providing a soothing counterpoint to the sudden burn.
The second smack came just as hard, striking the other cheek.
"Two!"
Three more followed in quick succession, her squeals counting them out. The other hand rubbed in circles. The last squeal trailed into a sob, the burn at her ass adding to the misery in that sound.
"Good girl," he praised her again, squeezing her ass.
Her thighs rubbed together, wetness gathered between them. She peered over her shoulder, and moaned at his gaze, those dark eyes staring at her ass, admiring its lush plumpness. His hand was up in the air, waiting to strike.
It descended swiftly.
"Six!"
Three more strikes landed, his rhythm keeping her off balance. Her voice rang out in his office, unsteadily keeping count, filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. She squirmed, setting her ass cheeks to a light jiggling she knew he had his eyes on, more wetness slicking her sex.
The tenth strike slapped down.
"Ten!"
Her cry bled into a whine, and she bucked mindlessly.
"Good girl," he murmured, rubbing over her ass and lower back, his other hand underneath her blouse, directly on her skin.
A brief silence fell in the office. Her squirming continued under his watchful gaze.
"Halfway there."
She nodded meekly, peeking over her shoulder again. His eyes met hers, a brow quirking up as if expecting her to speak.
