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The Wages of Sin-Part 2

Meredith's turn...
I recommend reading my story titled “The Wages of Sin-Part 1” first…

I had just delivered thirty with the belt across 18-year old Erica’s clothed buttocks for stealing wine from the church, and had experienced an erotic reaction the likes of which I had never had before. Now, I had turned to 19-year old Meredith, the instigator of today’s theft and previous others. I was still aroused from the punishment that I had administered to Erica, and Meredith clearly saw the bulging evidence.

“Well,” she said, “aren’t you going to ask me what my parents would have done had you ratted me out to them?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” I replied, “but sure, tell me yourself. Maybe I’ll be surprised.”

“They sure wouldn’t spank me, that’s for sure. In fact, they probably wouldn’t even believe you.”

“You forgot about the signed confession”

“Ah, but you forget,” she retorted, the smirk returning to her face, “you’ve agreed not to tell them since I signed the confession!”

“And you forget that as a condition of not telling them, and the police, that you agree to accept the punishment that I deem appropriate.”

“But what about Erica?” she stammered. “You punished her the same way that her father would have.”

“Ah, yes, but that was because I happened to agree with the punishment. Do you really think that you will get off with less, just because your parents are blind to your deeds and their culpability by lax discipline? Really?”

Now the nervous look returned to her face. “So what is my punishment? How will you determine it?”

“Well, for starters, at the very least I think that you should get what Erica got; thirty across the backside with my belt.”

“No way! There’s no fucking way you’re going to strap me!”

“Very well,” I said, as I picked up the phone, “our deal is off and I shall have to, as you say, ‘rat you out’. But you are correct, your parents probably won’t believe that their precious little girl did anything wrong. Which is why I am skipping them and calling the police directly. They can call your parents once they take you downtown to central booking.” I started dialing.

“Wait! No! Please don’t call!” she cried. “I’ll take the strapping. Just not thirty. Okay?”

“Over all, how many bottles did you steal?”

“Ten. Why?”

“And what Commandment is ‘Thou shalt not steal’?”

“The fifth. Why?”

“Because, I told you that there was no way that you were getting off with less than Erica. Since your parents’ discipline provides no metric, I am improvising. Ten bottles times five, the number of the Commandment you broke, seems appropriate. Thus you will not receive thirty strokes; you will get a full fifty. Now, please remove your alb and assume the position that Erica did.”

“No. I will not remove my alb and you will not hit me fifty times across the ass with that belt.”

“You will; and I will; or I call the police. You’ve got ten seconds to decide.”

“Okay, okay. Fifty, but I leave the alb on.”

“This is not a negotiation. Erica did not have the protection of the alb, and neither will you. Plus, I do not want to mark up the backside with my belt. Now, alb off, in position now, or all bets are off. Take it or leave it.” I didn’t add that I was hoping that she was also wearing tight pants.

Daggers shot from her eyes as she loosened the cincture from around her waist, unsnapped the alb at the shoulder, and let both them drop to the floor. I’m sure she meant it as an act of defiance, but I scarcely noticed as what I now saw before me was Meredith totally naked, but for her shoes; her breasts and trimmed bush in full view. This was much better than tight jeans. The erection that had faded during our discussion about her punishment began to find new life.

I took my time looking her over. She was about 5’4”, and was thin where she needed to be but full in her womanly areas. I judged her breasts to be a 34C, with no sag; riding firm and proud capped by two very erect nipples. Further down, her pubic mound, what I could see anyway, was covered with wispy blond hair that matched that on her head. She made no attempt to cover herself, but the look of defiance was gone. “Interesting choice to wear under a sacred garment,” I observed. “That explains the street clothes in the locker.”

“You know how hot it gets up on the Altar,” she explained.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “But for you, it is about to get hotter. Now, just as Erica, I want you to stand facing the wall, three feet back. Lean forward at the waist so that your hands are about three-quarters of the way up, and you are looking straight down to the middle of the space between your feet and the wall. You will count each stroke of my belt, and thank me after each. Your hands will not leave the wall, nor shall you kick. You will remain in position until I signal that your punishment is over. Understood?”

“Yeah. I got it,” was her insolent reply.

“What was that?”

“Yes, sir.” She said, a little more humbly as she assumed the position instructed.

“That’s better. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

I stood behind her, getting my first view of her firm, rounded ass; her tight athletic thighs. Such a tempting target. Unfortunately, she kept her legs together; and while I certainly had ulterior motives, I did not want to raise suspicion by reminding her that her legs were to be a foot apart. Thus I had only a faint view of her nether region. Regardless, I was now fully hard.

SWAK! The first slash streaked across both cheeks.

“Ow! Shit!” she screamed, as she jumped up and danced around.

“I said to not move. Now assume the position again.”

SWAK! Another raw stripe.

“Ow!” she yelled once again, as she reflexively reached back to rub her ass cheeks.

“This will not do! At this rate, we’ll be here all day. Stand facing the wall while I figure something out.”

I looked around the room, hoping for inspiration, stealing glances at Meredith’s buttocks and the two pink I had just raised. Suddenly, my eyes fixed on the perfect solution; a heavy, solid brass prie dieu, or prayer desk. I dragged it to the center of the room. Picking up the cincture that she had dropped to the floor, I said, “I want you to stand in front of the prie dieu, bend over it, and grab the sides near the kneeler.”

She just stood there, glaring.

“Now!” I barked. “Unless you want the fifty doubled.”

She quickly complied. Using the cincture she had dropped earlier, I tied her wrists to the sides on the desk. Which gave me a chance to get a better view of her breasts. I noted that her nipples were still hard. It took all my strength to keep from tweaking them.

I stood behind her. She kept her legs together, still limiting my view of her sex. But, the height of the desk was such that her rear was now better presented.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.” SWAK!

“Shit!” she yelled, as she kicked and bucked, nearly getting me in the kneecap.

“That won’t do! Spread your legs!”

Realizing now that she was out of options, she did; hardly resisting as I tied first one ankle, then the other to the outer sides of the desk. Now her pussy was exposed, as was her pucker. This was just getting better and better.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how many have you counted out so far?” I asked.

There was a pause. “None, sir.”

“Then we shall start over.” SWAK!

“Ow! One, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“That’s better.” SWAK!

“Shit! Two, sir. Thank you, sir.”

And on it went, each blow causing that same ripple effect that got me going with Erica, each blow depositing the deep pink stripe that I had imagined it would.

At ten I paused, as much to admire my handiwork as to take a rest. Plus, my erection, at full-time status, was uncomfortably trapped in my briefs and I needed to arrange a few things to ease the pressure. Meredith must have heard me draw my zipper down, as she tried to turn to see what was happening. “Don’t worry, “I said, “just arranging a few things. Are you ready for the next ten?”

“Yes, sir. But before you do, can you untie one hand so that I can rub my ass?”

“Not hardly,” I replied, “but I am more than happy to rub it for you.”

She thought for a minute, and then acquiesced. I placed my hand on her rear, and felt the heat and welts that I had caused. I caressed her young firm buttocks, squeezing them tenderly. I heard a soft moan, but was unsure if it was because Meredith was enjoying the attention, or just sore. I lightly ran a finger down the crack of her ass, the tip just brushing her rose-colored sphincter before pulling it out. It was then that I caught the first whiff of feminine arousal, and my hopes rose.

I went back to my position, and again asked, “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”


“Ouch! Eleven, sir. Thank you, sir.”


“Ouch! Twelve, sir. Thank you, sir.”


“Unh! Thirteen, sir. Thank you, sir.

At twenty, I paused again. Meredith’s creamy white bum was now covered with angry red welts. This time I did not ask; I ran my hand over them, feeling the heat being emitted from the raised flesh. Meredith groaned; and it did not sound like it was a pain reaction at all. It seemed as if she were trying to push back against my hand. Emboldened, I let my hand drift down to her labia, lightly brushing my fingers across their folds. Another moan; a stronger scent and definite moistness revealing her excited state. I again unzipped to adjust my “package”, and again she tried to turn to look. This time I let her take in the sight of my aroused manhood, though still clothed. She moaned again.

I paused and thought. This strapping was no longer about punishment for either of us. My cockhead was dripping with pre-cum. Her vagina was responding in kind. This was just as much about the sex as the pain. I came to a decision.


“Yes, sir.” SWAK!

But this time only half as hard. I still saw the new pink welt, still saw the erotic rippling of her cheeks as they absorbed the blow, only this time I was now able to focus on other things: the sway of her breasts, the change in the voicing from one of discomfort to one of sensuousness.

“Ooh! Twenty one, sir. Thank you, sir.”

SWAK! Again, a lighter touch.

“Ooh! Twenty two, sir. Thank you, sir.”

SWAK! This was working out much better.

“Aah! Twenty three, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Once again, I stopped upon reaching the decade mark of thirty. Examining her rear once more, I noticed that despite the lesser force, my belt had done a number on her flesh. I decided that maybe it was time to spare the rod.

“Do you have any hand lotion in your bag?”

“Yes, sir; why do you ask?”

“I think that when I sooth your tender this time, a little lotion might be appropriate.”

I went into her bag and took out the tube. Squirting a large dollop into my hand, I began to rub it over her backside; first one cheek, then the other. As earlier, she thrust back to meet my massaging. I ran a finger down the cleft of her lips. What was earlier moistness was now full wetness. Her sex had become swollen with need, the inner lips pushing out; her prominent clit now in full view due to her upturned position over the prayer desk. I inserted my finger into her hole, marveling at the warmth, the softness, and the tightness. I pushed in far enough to confirm that while she was no virgin, she was still quite “fresh”.

“Meredith, I believe that this part of your punishment is over. While you did receive the same amount of strokes as Erica, yours were on your bare and thus more severe. I believe that we should stop her.”

“But sir, I do deserve the full fifty strokes. I want the last twenty. It would not be right to not receive them.”

I paused, looking at the damage already done. Even a token twenty would probably cause her skin to split. “No,” I said, “I fear that twenty more with my belt across your ass would do significant scarring.”

“Well, sir, if not twenty strokes on the bare with your belt, maybe you could administer twenty strokes with something else, somewhere else. From what I saw, I think you have just the implement I need to complete the set.”

“Well,” I said, grasping full well what she was proposing and deciding to up the ante, “I must advise you that using anything other than the belt across your cheeks may warrant additional strokes to ‘equalize’ things. Twenty may not be enough to accomplish the results we are looking for. Is that acceptable?”

“If you can last that long sir, then I can take as many strokes as you think you can deliver.”

I stood behind her, gazing across the flesh being offered. Closer now, I once again ran a finger up her wet slit. She began to slowly move her hips, pushing back as she moaned. I poked her back door with a greased digit, and she moaned even louder. Applying more of the hand lotion, I pushed my thumb up her bung hole, then inserted my index finger into her tight, sopping cunt. Using my other hand, I diddled her clit as I sawed the inserted fingers in and out. Had she not been tied down, I’m not sure that I could have continued, as she bucked and shook; clearly relishing the stimulation to her sex and anus. Her orgasm was announced by a low, guttural growl. We were both panting.

I stood back again, watching her shiney juices flow down her milky thighs as I disrobed. My turgid member stood out, anticipating its role in what was to be served next upon this young girl. I proudly strode around to her face, giving her a good look at the tool that would administer as many strokes as I could. I slowly jacked it in her face, letting her see its full majesty; the large, purplish helmet atop eight inches of thick man-meat, pre-cum oozing from the slit atop.

“Are you ready?”

“Oh, god, yes!”

Standing to her rear, I inserted just the head into the opening of her vaginal canal. Grasping her hips, I said, “Don’t forget to count each stroke, and thank me.” Then I shoved as hard and fast and deep as I could. The tightness was almost virginal, the softness of the heat incredible. She grunted as I hit her cervix.

“Unh! Thirty one, sir. Thank you, sir!”

I withdrew almost completely out, then thrust home again. I could feel the contours of her tunnel walls on the corona of my circumcised spear as I again bottomed out.

“Oooh! Thirty two, sir. Thank you, sir!”

Another full length withdrawal, and then another jarring penetration. My balls slapped against her clit.

“Oh my! Thirty three, sir. Thank you, sir.”

At thirty five I remained buried deep, and leaned forward and around to grasp those lovely swaying tits that I had admired earlier. Palming them, with the erect nipples trapped between my fingers, I used them for leverage as I delivered five fast strokes so quickly that she could not count them out. I paused to see if she would try. Instead, she ground herself against me as much as she could while still restrained and told me that the counting was distracting her from reaching the “spiritual fulfillment” that she was certain I was trying to imbue.

I agreed by delivering another ten in hard, rapid succession; meanwhile mashing her titties as I squeezed her nipples even harder; bringing her over the edge in another grunting and thrashing of release. We were at fifty.

I now desperately needed to come. Releasing her breasts, I advised that I would now deliver the remaining strokes, and there would be no need to count. I again took hold of her hips. While I again withdrew to almost full length, my insertions were now quite measured. Meredith did her part, using her muscles to squeeze me as I slid in and out of her molten depths. At each insertion, I slapped her right cheek; at each withdrawal, her left. Meredith pushed back at each, such that I could not tell if it was the stimulation from the spanking or being impaled by my member that she carved more.

At twelve more, sixty two, I could last no longer. With one last thrust, I came hard; each contraction shooting a hot jet of my fluid into her glove-like recesses, the force clearly felt by her as much as I felt it in the depths of my groin. I ejaculated longer than I can ever recall. My nuts actually ached from the effort.

I leaned across her back again, exhausted, using the opportunity for one last feel of those firm young globes. Righting, I pulled out of her young cunt for the last time; a copious mixture of her fluids and mine gushing from her gaping hole, the lips at her portal pushed aside by the pummeling she had just received.

Untying her hands and feet, I asked if she was ready for her penance. As she stretched out the kinks from her confinement, she turned to me and said that she was. I took a kneeler cushion off the shelf and placed it before me. With a look of sudden realization in her eyes, she dropped before me, taking my semi-hard penis into her hand and proceeded to clean off our co-mingled juices with her tongue and mouth; tenderly caressing my sack as she went about her duty.

We dressed, Meredith having a bit of a time due to the pain still felt from my handiwork as she slipped her tight denim jeans over her red rear, unprotected by any underwear as she had worn a thong to church. “You know, sir, I have led an undisciplined life,” she said, as she buttoned her blouse. "I think that as a further part of my penance, I need to come under your guidance more often. I do have other areas that should not be spared the rod. You know, so that I do not become a spoiled child, and all.”

I smiled at my convert, pulled out the Acolyte schedule, and put her down for the last service every Sunday for the rest of the summer.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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