This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18 years old or over.
Joyce was a willowy Irish catholic and a mixture of adventurousness and naivety. We had met when I worked in Dublin and she had returned to Wales with me to a cottage in Pembrokeshire, surrounded by old woodland at the end of a quarter of a mile of earth track.
I was working long hours, subcontracting to the local farmers, and would return home most evenings dog tired but we were both young and so sex was frequent, if a little predictable. If I tried anything unusual, she would be pleasantly accommodating but would seldom be overly enthusiastic. The height of passion was usually for her to cry don’t stop just as I was at the point of no return and a few strokes away from stopping. Sex was pleasant but nothing to set the world ablaze.
One Friday I had finished early and headed for the bath. As I opened the bathroom door, she was stooping over the bath, wrapped in a towel, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. She was blushing furiously from underneath the towel wrapped around her wet hair. I started dropping my work clothes into the washing basket.
I knew that the ancient water heater would not support two baths of water, so I slipped gratefully into the water she had vacated and topped it up with the hot water that remained- not as much as I had expected. The bathroom was pleasantly warm as she washed the grime from my back. Soon she had abandoned her towel and started gently soaping and fondling me.
We tumbled into the bedroom and without any foreplay I thrust slowly into her. As the swollen end of my prick moved passed her pussy lips I was engulfed by her sweet, firm wetness She must have been on a hair trigger because as I slid in, her internal muscles started to spasm and flutter, gripping me wetly. The wet slapping sounds rapidly increased in speed and volume as my body, still wet from the bath, dragged me, and thrust her towards a shuddering, grinding, liquid orgasm.
I looked across at her, tangled in the sheets. “So did you enjoy your bath?”
She looked away and muttered something. I guessed that she had made her bath had been more fun than usual- hence her hair trigger reaction.
“Were you having impure thoughts?” I gently teased.
She was quite for a while then said in a low voice, “I get so confused. All day I have erotic thoughts, I used to confess to a priest and do penance, but not for anything like this. The penance did make me feel better though,” she finished shyly.
The cooker timer rang from the kitchen and Joyce jumped out of bed and pulled on her clothes. When I followed several minutes later, she was putting dinner on the table, with a bottle of wine. I ate dinner in a quite post-coital glow, absently thinking about catholic guilt. Joyce was quiet but looked as if she was waiting for something.
“What?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” she replied as she cleared the table.
“Do you want to go to confession?”
“No; I couldn’t tell anyone else, and a priest would have a fit. He could hardly just tell me to say 20 Hail Marys. He would insist that we stopped”
I moved to the armchair, she came back into the room, and swallowed a large mouthful of wine. I held out my hand and she knelt beside me.
“How long has it been since your last confession?” I asked quietly. She looked at me quizzically. “Do you have impure thoughts?” I continued.
After a long silence, she replied in a low voice “Do you mean ‘forgive me for I have sinned’?”
“Tell me what you think about”
After a long pause she continued, “I think about what we do in bed, and it makes me excited. It also makes me feel guilty and that makes me more excited. That makes me feel wicked”
Listening to her made me feel excited and she was breathing with rapid shallow breaths.
I took a risk.
“I think that you are confused, you talk about what we do. I know that you mean ‘what you do with your boyfriend, not with me’. try thinking of me as your confessor.”
She looked up startled, so I told her to close her eyes and keep them closed. I Talked to her quietly reminding her that she had not been to confession for a long time. “You need to tell me what you think about.”
She was quite for several seconds and then in a quiet voice started to tell me about her thoughts. Remembering that her boyfriend stroked her breasts. She paused.
“Does he stroke your nipples?” I asked, “Tell me about what you remember.”
“He strokes and rolls them in his fingers, when he does, I feel it in my belly, and lower down.”
“What else, do you think about him doing with your breasts?”
“He squeezes my nipples and flicks them with his fingertips; it hurts a bit, but I like that as well.” Then in a low whisper, “Sometimes I want him to squeeze harder.”
“I think that this confessing makes you excited.”
“No,” she murmured.
“I think that your nipples are hard and aching now. Take of your shirt slowly so that they have a chance to soften.”
I knew that making her remove it slowly would have the opposite effect and as she undid the buttons and the shirt slid off her arms, her nipples were prominent through her thin bra.
“Tuck the top of your bra under your breasts. I need to be able to check on them.” Her bra was now more like a showgirl’s platform bra. She clasped her hands in front of her, like a penitent. She shuffled towards me on her knees, and I gently squeezed both nipples. She groaned softly.
“I want you to answer truthfully at all times, do you understand?”
“Yes Sir, I mean Dave, I mean father,” she looked flustered.
“Are you wet between your legs?”
“No.” She hesitated. “I don’t know- maybe”
I softly told her to stand up, turn away from me, and take off her jeans. As she stood wearing only her underwear I ran my fingers softly along her back, across the waist band of her panties, across her belly and returned to the back. I gripped the back of the waistband and firmly and slowly pulled upwards. She groaned again. I held her hips and gently turned her to face me. I took the front of her panties between finger and thumb to make the crotch into a soft rope and then eased the front of the waistband up higher, way above her hips. The lips eased out, swollen, each side of the thin material. I told her to kneel again and, with the fingers of one hand I stroked her swollen labia beside the bunched fabric of her panties. Fingers from the other hand were alternately squeezing and slowly releasing first one nipple, then the other. Her dark eyes were wide open, gazing at me but focused somewhere outside the room
“I think that as penance for your wayward thought about your breasts, they should be punished. Go and fetch that wooden school ruler and bring it back to me.” She slowly stood up, walked over to the old desk and after rummaging through a drawer, walked back towards me. She looked uncertain, and shy again, hugging her chest to hide her exposed nipples.
“You look beautiful,” I reminded her, “Hold the ruler in your teeth and take your bra off. Now clasp your hands behind your neck, elbows back, be proud of your body. Kneel back here between my legs”
She shuffled forward, almost touching me. “Knees further apart, elbows right back.”
I took the ruler from her teeth and gently tapped her right nipple. It was so engorged that it made a distinct sound through the ruler. Even though it was a gentle tap, she jumped violently and involuntarily brought her elbows forward. She saw my disapproving look and immediately pushed them back again. I tapped the left nipple and she groaned and jerked but kept her elbows back and pushed her breast out towards me. I smacked the ruler to the side of her right nipple and then immediately to the side of the left one. She jerked spasmodically both times. I then repeated the smack to the other side of both nipples. Her breath was catching in her throat.
I then moved the edge of the wooden ruler between her breasts, down the centre of her belly, over the bunched elastic of her panties and very gently and slowly dragged it along the centre cleft of her swollen lips. She tried to sink down onto it, but a sharp upward flick brought a shallow gasp, and she knelt up higher again.
“How many smacks on your breasts do you think will be sufficient?” I asked, “Five each?”
“Mmm, yes, I suppose”
I explained that I wanted her to hold them up by the nipples. If she let go, I would add an extra two smacks. She gripped them and lifted them slightly. I told her that I wanted them much higher. When her firm breasts were elongated away from her ribcage, I swatted the underside of each and then waited for her breath to calm a little. I struck again, slightly harder and to the side of her fingers which were now gripping so tightly that I saw the knuckles whiten. Now the other side of her fingers, harder again. Her breathing was hard, as if she had been running. I slid the ruler down across her belly again and gently tapped her nubbin, which was visible through her moist panties. Once, twice three, four times. Each tap brought a sharp intake of breath and a small spasm.
“One more on each breast.” I reminded her. “Hands behind your neck again. I am going to hit the nipple, are you ready?”
“Mm.”
“Keep your elbows back.”
I cupped her sex with my left hand but brought the ruler sharply across the right nipple. She yelped and sank down onto my hand. I slowly brushed her labia which were still swollen outside the crutch of her bunched panties.
“Please,” she whispered
“Please what?”
“The final one; the last smack; please now.”
I flicked her left nipple very hard. She gasped and sunk down hard onto my hand and ground her hips round and round. She gripped her nipples again and pinched them as she ground harder against my hand.
“Fingers off,” I said loudly “hands behind you.” I beat a tattoo of raps on her nipples. She pushed her breasts towards me and sank harder onto my hand
I stopped.
“Please, please, please,” she mewed.
“This is your penance,” I reminded her. “Confess what you were thinking about in the bath,” I said firmly.
After a pause she started to talk in a low monotone. “I was thinking about when I take you in my mouth. I feel so wicked. You make me want to do everything. I don’t know if it’s a sin, I suppose it must be. I love to feel you inside me, anywhere, everywhere.”
I had started gently slapping the inside of her thighs with my open palm and was working slowly upward. As my fingers brushed her labia it was obvious that she had become even more swollen. I gripped each lip between my finger and thumb and slowly pulled them further apart so that the fabric of her panties rode deeper into the cleft. She was gyrating her hips slowly.
I spoke softly, “You are supposed to be confessing but you are enjoying this aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m wicked.”
“What do you think is a suitable penance?”
“If Mother Superior had known my thoughts, she would have chastised me with a leather strap. If she knew what I enjoy with you, God knows what she would have done.”
“Bring me a glass of wine and then bend over the back of that armchair.”
She poured the wine unsteadily and concentrated hard on not spilling any as she walked toward me. She looked to be dreaming as she handed me the glass. I held the wine to her lips and slowly tipped it until she had drunk most of the glass. I looked at the chair and she walked towards it, stood behind and bent over the back. She gave a little gasp as the chill of the old leather touched her belly. I walked to the front of the chair and pulled her arms straight along the padded arms of the chair until her hands could grip the front edge.
“Don’t let go.”
I walked behind her and saw that her legs were trembling slightly. Her bottom was the highest part as her head was near the chair seat.
“Move your legs apart- wider- wider.”
I ran my hand along her legs, from knees, slowly up and across her buttocks. Her breath was jagged, and she was moaning softly. I readjusted her panties again, pulling them still tighter into her crack and stretching her labia very firmly. I took off my belt and wrapped it around my fist so that it was only about a foot long. I trailed it across her buttocks, and she gasped as the leather brushed over her swollen labia. My erection was painful, but I was surprised how calm my voice was as I asked her how many strokes, she thought, she deserved. I was stunned at her mumbled reply
“I don’t know how many I need deserve.”
I swung the short strap across her bottom, and she jumped, gasped, and sighed. I stroked her labia with my fingers until her breathing become steady and swung the strap again, harder.
She bucked, writhed, and groaned “Oh God.”
I slipped my fingers under the rope of her panty crutch, and she wriggled to push my fingers further into the wetness. I took my fingers away and brought the strap down again. She gasped again and bent her knees slightly, which separated her buttocks even further. I pulled her panties down enough to allow my hand to slide between her legs and hold her wet, swollen purse. With my hand in place, I pulled them down further and edged her knees together enough to let me remove them. She was crouched, wriggling on my hand with her knees still bent.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
“Mm.”
“This is supposed to be punishment, a penance.” I slipped out of my trousers and walked around the chair. As she saw my erection, she pushed her head forward as I knelt on the chair. The coolness of her saliva was both soothing and stimulating. I took both nipples between my thumbs and fingers and gradually increased the pressure. She groaned deep in her throat, which sent low frequency vibrations along my shaft. I squeezed very hard, and her bottom bucked across the back of the chair. I slid one hand along her spine, dipped one finger in her wet quimm, and then tapped on the rim to her bum.
“Please, not there,” she mumbled throatily. I pushed myself deeper into her mouth and the rim opened slowly and closed around my finger. I pulled my finger back slightly and then increased the pressure again. It slid deeper and her internal muscles fluttered.
I pulled out of her mouth and said mock sternly “What else do you have to confess?”
“I gave myself an enema with the shower hose today. I’m wicked.”
Despite having come before dinner, I was ready to explode again. I slid into her mouth and when my prick was wet again, I walked behind her and pushed it against her bum. It was too tight, so I dipped once in and out of her quim. As I pulled out, she moaned “No.”
I pushed against her bum, and it opened slightly. I said, “I’m going to spank you here” and I placed my hand on her buttock. Her bum tightened again. I slapped hard, she jerked and then opened, and the head of my prick slipped in. She gripped again and I felt as though an electric current was running from the head of my prick, though my balls to the base of my spine. She relaxed and I pushed in again, deeper. I reached around her to grip her nipples again and she lurched back to push me deeper. One of her hands was between her legs and she started thrashing around. As I thrust deeper into her and came, she wailed, “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”
I slid out of her, walked to her face, and pushed into her mouth. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but you love it.”
She nodded her head and sucked me greedily as I deflated.
“You didn’t keep your hands on the chair, did you?” I asked.
She shook her head. I could see that she was still very aroused, and I was amazed to find another erection starting.
She nodded as I said, “I think that we need to do something to keep you in order while you do your penance. Go and find me something for me to restrain you with.”
She scampered into the bedroom, and I could hear her rummaging in cupboards. I hunted around and found a handful of clothes pegs. She returned with and old sheet, which she started to tear into strips. I asked her if she had thought about this before and she just nodded her head.
I tied her elbows together behind her with one of the torn strips of sheet. This pushed her shoulders and breasts forward. I ran my tongue around both nipples and rolled them between my fingers. As I blew on the saliva, she shuddered, and goose pimples sprang up across her breasts. I pulled one nipple firmly toward me and as she bent forward to ease the pressure, I shook my head and she leant back against the pull, elongating her breasts and pulling the nipple very taut. I opened a clothes peg and slowly released it onto the stretched nipple, close to the puckered aureole. I let go and she took a deep breath and held it as the spring pressure took hold. She seemed to be fascinated as I repeated this with the other breast and again, she held her breath when I let the spring peg close.
I put a cushion on the low table and helped her to kneel on it. As she leant forward to take me in her mouth again, she leant forward with her back arched to ease the pressure of her bound elbows. Her breasts were pushed out with the clothes pegs standing out from her nipples. I flicked the pegs and she jerked and groaned but tapped the tip of her tongue gently into the eye of my penis. Her groans vibrated through me, and I could feel them in my balls. I tapped the pegs repeatedly and every time she jumped and gasped. I pulled out of her mouth and her head followed me, reluctant to let me from her mouth.
I placed a second cushion on the table and said, “Kneel up with your knees spread wide.” She did it immediately. I eased the cushions to the front corners of the table, and she shuffled with them. I knelt in front of her and softly sucked her clit. I put my thumbs above her pubic bone and stretched the skin upwards, making her clit stand out further. She was moaning softly and continuously; slowly rolling her head from side to side; her hips gently gyrating. I reached up and slowly twisted the pegs on her nipples; she pushed her hips forward towards me. I blew onto the wet, swollen bud and I realised that she was moaning incomprehensively.
“Too nice, no more, so bad, don’t stop.”
I slowly and firmly pulled one of the labia and then slowly released a peg onto it, close to her clit. She merely gave a soft grunt. I repeated with the other labia and then added two more to each. As she swayed her hips, they swayed and rippled between her legs. The weight of the pegs kept her lips apart and I moved the fingers of one hand between her legs as though drumming on the underside of a table. The outside two fingers made the pegs softly rattle together while the inside two fingers were gently tapping and slapping in the wetness between. I looked up at her and saw her eyes closed with her mouth slightly open and a peaceful, ecstatic smile.
“Have you been punished enough?” I asked her quietly. She shook her head. “Then stand up and serve me another glass of wine.”
She carefully moved her knees together and stepped off the table and turned away from me so that I could untie her elbows. Instead, I kissed her neck and cupped her breasts, which made her stretch like a cat. I flicked the pegs on her breasts and on her labia. She just smiled. I tugged at those on her nipples she groaned softly. I put my finger in her mouth and she suckled it. I ran my hand down her back into the cleft of her buttocks and slid the wet finger into her rim of her bum. She sank slowly onto it. She had become totally wanton and shameless.
I finally untied her arms and she walked erect and slow to the bottle and returned with it to fill my glass. She knelt and placed the glass on her outstretched hand for me. She looked into my eyes and said simply, “I want to be good for you.”
I sat and watched her as I sipped. After several minutes, I beckoned her towards me, and she knelt between my legs again. I opened the peg on her right nipple, and she gasped and squirmed as the blood returned and it swelled hard. I flicked it with my fingernail and each time she gasped. I felt between her legs and the pegs there were damp. I freed the other nipple and flicked it even harder. I pulled her head into my lap, and she sunk me deep into her mouth. I reached for the belt and brought it down across her right buttock. She hardly reacted. I swung again harder and again. I heard it rattle the pegs in her labia and realised that I had aimed badly. She screamed, deep in her throat and arched her back. After a few seconds she relaxed again, hollowed her back and her bottom pushed out.
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I swung again and she bucked and buried me deep in her throat. I took hold of her hair and stood up, pulling her to her feet. I bent her over the arm of the chair and pushed her legs apart with my foot. Then with one hand in her hair and the belt raised, I stopped. She held her breath and whimpered slightly.
“Please,” she said
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me hard.”
“Later; but only if you promise to tell me your fantasies when I ask you.”
“I promise.”
I slowly spanked her with the belt. I hit as close as I could to the top of her thighs. Sometimes I hit the pegs, sometimes I hit the softness between the pegs and had to wait until she recovered. I stopped and let her suck me. I used two inches of the belt to slap her breasts around the nipples. Sometimes I hit the nipple which was already sore an over-sensitised and then had to wait for her to recover. Sometimes I slipped into her and made her squeeze without coming. Usually, she could not stop herself because she was having almost continuous orgasms. She slowly sucked me. I slid alternately into her tight bum and then into her soft wet quim. At some stage, she pulled off the pegs and winced. I drove harder.
It seemed like hours later that I woke up in bed. Joyce was sitting looking at me quizzically, so I smiled and said, “Before next Friday’s confession, I want you to shave off all of your body hair.”
She smiled and said, “I might need to confess before then, I have had wicked thoughts about all sorts of things. Shall I make a cup of tea love?”