Bless Me Father

Sister Mary Jean closed the door of the confessional and knelt demurely, waiting for the window behind the screen to open. When it was, the twenty-five year old nun spoke softly but clearly, “Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it has been a week since my last confession.”

The deep male voice replied, “What do you have to confess?”
“I had impure thoughts five times.”
“Is that all?”
“I also pleasured myself the same number of times.”
“Anything else?”
“No, Father.”

The priest said some prayers in Latin and announced that in order for her to be forgiven, she would need to do penance.

“Yes, Father.”
“The first thing is to say 50 Hail Marys.”
“Yes, Father.”
“And report to the Rectory dungeon at precisely 8 PM.”

She could feel her cheeks redden as she took a few moments to compose herself, but she responded submissively,” Yes Father.”

Heading back to the convent after saying the first part of her penance, Sister Mary Jean looked at her watch. It was 7:30; she had a half hour. Father Demery was a stickler for punctuality. She’d already eaten dinner and said her evening prayers, so she didn’t see any reason for her to be late. Nevertheless, she quietly walked quickly to the convent, entered her room, stripped off the navy-blue habit, removed her underwear, and donned the habit again. She remembered how furious Father Demery became the last time when she left her panties on underneath.

At precisely the right time the nun knocked on the basement door of the rectory. A few moments later, the male servant opened the door. The man was in his mid-thirties, she guessed. His slender build reminded her of the typical butler she used to see in old movies. He was a good head taller than her 5′ 5″ stature, with bushy eyebrows matching his pitch black hair that was combed straight back. What really ate at her, though, was the sarcastic smirk that appeared across his face- like he knew the reason for her visit. At least he was polite when he ushered her in, informing her that Father Demery would be right down and that she should know what to do. Graciously thanking the servant, she entered the little room the priest called his dungeon. She was glad the man had left her alone, and she made sure she heard his footsteps ascending the stairs to the main floor. When she heard the door close, she immediately removed the habit, dropped it on the floor and knelt obediently on the throw-rug, leaned back, placed her palms down on the shiny wooden floor behind her, and opened her thighs to their widest position. This is the position Father Demery demanded that she assume during these encounters. He wanted to be able to see her openly, with nothing hidden. Her heart raced when she heard his footsteps descending the carpeted steps. Her nerves were crawling up her back, because she recalled how sternly he’d punished her before for being in an improper position.

“Very good, sister,” he complimented. ” I see that session on the spanking horse improved your forgetfulness.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You’re still a fucking slut, though, aren’t you?” Sister Mary Jean had been all through this in previous sessions with Father Demery, and she knew it was best to agree with him. “Come on sister, stop stalling! You’re a fucking slut who deserves to be punished, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Let me guess sister, during these impure thoughts, you were thinking about having a man fuck you, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, Father.”
“And then you used your vibrator to finish it?”
“Yes, Father.”
“And this occurred five times. Isn’t that right, slut?”
“Yes, Father.”

Walking around the naked wide-open form of Sister Mary Jean, Father Demery’s own human instincts arose quickly under his black alb. Giving in to temptation, he reached down, grabbed a handful of her short brown hair and held her head so that her face pointed toward the ceiling. Stepping over her, he straddled her face and unbuttoned the front of his priestly vestment, allowing his hard cock free.

Touching the tip to her closed, pinkish lips, he issued one order, “Open slut!” Having tasted this priest’s cock in previous encounters, she willingly parted them. “Ah yes! Lick it slut!”

Obeying, she licked all around the head, then down the shaft to his balls. Licking one sensitive orb, then the other, she knew the priest was in heaven. She pleased him further by taking both balls in her mouth. His low moans inspired her to lick her way back up his shaft to the head. Lowering her lips around his pulsating pole, she took the entire length in her soft mouth, balls deep. She felt him grab her hair, so he could withdraw his cock so that only the head was still inside. That’s when the randy priest began fucking her mouth repeatedly. She knew he was about to blow his top, and sure enough, a geyser of cum came gushing into her mouth, as she swallowed furiously.

It took Father Demery a while to recover, but when he did, he looked down at Sister Mary Jean. “You do have some penance still coming.”

Leaving the naked nun in her spread position, the black-robed priest ambled over to where whips, paddles, and various forms of discipline implements hung. Reaching up, he took down a riding crop, which was black, about four feet long with a thin handle and flat, rawhide piece attached to the business end. Resolutely, he walked back and gazed down at his prey, allowing her to see the instrument that would deliver the rest of her penance. He heard her gasp when he laid the hard, flat piece against the inside of her right thigh.

“Beg me to whip you, slut!” He demanded.
She gulped. “Please whip me, Father.”
Holding the handle firmly, he raised the crop high and brought it down with a loud thwap, causing an immediate shriek and a red splotch.
Then laying the end of the crop against her other thigh, his voice seethed, “You fucking slut!” And again, he raised the crop, holding it backhanded, and slashed it viciously against the white thigh.
Another shriek burst from her lips, as tears began to form.
“Don’t close your thighs, sister, or else you will get extra!” From personal experience the sister knew he meant what he said.
Then laying the hard piece of the crop next to the red splotch on the inside of her right thigh, he admonished her. “Remember this, you slut, the next time you have your mind on a man’s cock!”Raising the crop again, he slammed it down hard.
Her shriek became sobs as tears ran down her face, and when he matched that one with one to the other thigh, full-fledged wails filled the room.
“One more,” he said. Moving the head of the crop to the juncture between her legs, he held the handle steady. He waited thirty seconds. Then raising the crop and with one continuous motion, he whacked her wide-open pussy. The excruciating pain shot right through her being. Her shriek, to be sure, could’ve been heard on the upper floor of the manse. Bending completely over so that her forehead was touching the floor, she sobbed in a full cry.
Ambling over to hang up the crop, Father Demery felt no mercy for her at all. Stoically, he walked toward the steps that lead to the main part of the rectory. Standing on the first step, he looked down at the still bawling nun.

“See you next time slut!
“Yes, Father,” she answered into the floor.

Then she smiled. She’d gotten what she wanted. These sessions with Father Demery always cleansed her of her sins.


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