Service Provider Ch. 14-23

She collapsed in a heap on the slick floor, her lovely face lying in a puddle of cum, mouth slackly open, tongue protruding, clamped black nipples half-submerged in more cum, the asperigal extending from her naked cunt between the pussy weights. At least the weights were no longer torturing her, although the labia clamps were. Incredulous, he noticed her long tongue twitching back and forth in the cum. Even unconscious, she wanted more, even if it was from the floor. He decided to shoot a few additional photos. After all, she was the best he'd ever had, a true acolyte of the sacred ceremony he called corporal mortification. It had been worth waiting all these years and pushing to be transferred back to this parish.

He wondered whether the lessons of this one-time mortification would wear off. For the sake of her soul, he'd better conduct a more severe second session with her soon, inducting her into even harsher tests to prove her lasting devotion. In the meantime, he would order her to communion on a regular basis, and to a resumption of mid-week confession as well.

Enjoy Chapter Fifteen soon, wherein Janice chaperones at the Ansonia autumn dance.

Chapter Fifteen -- Dance chaperone

In October, Janice was invited to be a chaperone at the high school dance. When she told Matt, her son at college, that she didn't have anything appropriate to wear, he said he'd take care of it. The afternoon of the dance, she found a beautiful box on her bed containing an unusual and expensive dress. After donning stockings and garter belt, she put on the tight top and skirt, reveling in the luxurious fabric. Thin horizontal strips of black leather ribbing crossed the top, attached with small loops. Two were above and two below her breasts, one circled her waist at the top of her hips, two wrapped her biceps, and the last pair encircled her wrists. Each leather band covered a zipper, so the entire top could be deconstructed. To the unsuspecting, the design looked intriguing and stylish. To those who had been serviced by slave Janice, the outfit looked like bondage wear. In fact, Matt, her son and master, had purchased it from a high-end designer of bondage clothing. But when Janice thanked him and asked where he'd found the outfit, he was evasive, not wanting her to know its SM origin.

At the dance, held in the decorated and darkened gym, everything was going fine until she noticed two of the boys who had fucked her senseless and treated her so crudely at the Vice-Chancellor's pool party. Standing near a wall on the edge of the dance floor, sipping a spiked punch provided for the few adults, Janis blushed royally, averting their eyes in shame at the disgusting memories. But the boys, Denny and Merrill, walked over to her. They greeted her teasingly or mockingly and she murmured uncomfortable replies. To her chagrin, they maneuvered themselves next to her, complimenting her on the unique dress.

"Those bands across your tits look just like the rawhide strips the Vice-Chancellor bound you with at the pool," Denny said.

Janice was stunned by his crude directness. "Please boys, I'm chaperoning tonight. Don't talk about the pool party here!" Merrill had placed his hand on her rear, caressing it through the dress. "Merrill, stop doing that right away!" she snapped.

"Why should I?" he said, as Denny opened the horizontal zipper covered by the leather belt at the top of her ass. "After all, you're dressed in a slut's outfit." Janice actually jumped when she felt both their hands on the bare flesh of her lower back. "Stop that!" she whispered, taking another drink when they, emboldened, moved lower. Merrill inserted a finger between her ass cheeks and began stroking her crack. Thank God it's so dark in here, Janice thought, her pussy responding to Merrill's long, bony finger.

Thankfully, the Headmaster, who was also chaperoning, arrived, and sent the boys away. As he asked whether the evening was proceeding calmly, she placed her hands behind her and closed the zipper. She said that even on her patrols outside in the moonlight behind the gym, she'd seen no problems with alcohol or drugs.

"Tell me, Janice, are those leather bands adjustable?"

"Why, I don't know. . . I'm not sure," she replied, flustered. "It's the first time I'm wearing this dress. Now that you mention it, yes, I suppose they are." She drank more.

"I see. . . Interesting." The Headmaster continued on his rounds. As soon as he left, the band began a slow dance and the lights dimmed even more. Jeremy strode up to Janice, holding out his arms.

"Dance with me." It was a command, not an invitation.

"Jeremy, no, I'm chaperoning."

"You can do a better job of chaperoning by moving around the dance floor and seeing everything." He took her wrists and pulled her onto the floor. The boy held her much closer than she felt comfortable. But she had to admit he was tall, good-looking, a good dancer, and was wearing an attractive cologne. She rested her head on his shoulder, dreamily, forgetting her role as chaperone. With his left hand pressing her back into him, Jeremy used his right hand to deftly open the zipper underneath the band across her chest and pull down the fabric. Her breasts sprang free between two bands. Panicked, she instinctively pulled back, a move that would have had disastrous consequences. But Jeremy had the foresight to keep her pressed into his chest.

"How dare you?" she asked, seething.

"Be quiet," he ordered, or I'll expose your ass next." He reached his hand up between them and twisted her nipple. A jolt surged to her cunt and he felt her hot breath in his ear. She pressed her body against his in order to hide her breasts. He thought the slut was trying to hump in public. She felt his boner hardening into her groin but was not aware that Jeremy was subtly maneuvering her toward the edge of the crowd. Thank goodness for the dim light, she thought, her pussy juice streaking the bare thighs above her stockings.

The moment the song ended, he zipped shut her dress and, holding her biceps forcefully, marched her off the gym floor down a corridor to the dark coatroom. He led her to the rear and was pulling a dozen coats off their hangars and throwing them on the floor when Reed arrived. Reed unzipped her top all the way around so her big breasts and back were both exposed. He unzipped the skirt and it dropped to the floor, leaving her nude from the belly down. There were two parts of her still clothed: from her neck to her breasts and between her breasts and belly.

Jeremy pushed her onto her hands and knees. "Please, please don't cum on my head or face or ass or back," she begged. "Just this once. I have to go back in there and chaperone." The boys grunted. Reed removed four clamps, the kind to hold slacks or skirts, from two hangers and applied them to her nipples and labia. She uttered a long "Uggghhhh!" from the intense pain of the metal.

After appreciating her beautiful skin against the pile of black overcoats, they fucked her mouth and cunt. Before unloading, Reed tried to pull out of her mouth, but she held onto his cock and deep-throated him as he climaxed so he couldn't spray her face or hair. Jeremy would have shot off on her ass and back to spite her, but her cunt muscles excited him so quickly he lost control and erupted in her hole.

When they were finished, they collapsed alongside her and smoked cigarettes as she fingered herself to completion, silently calling herself a debased cum slut who would fuck boys at their own school, where she could be discovered at any moment. Reluctantly, they removed the four clamps, dressed and left. After they'd returned to the dance and she'd pieced her dress back together, she also returned to the dance, where she promptly downed a glass of the spiked punch. The Headmaster found her there.

"Janice, come with me when I patrol the grounds."

"Yes sir."

Although not a full moon, the moonlight outside was substantial. They had reached the rear of the building and were passing an open seating area with a metal fence when the Headmaster pushed her back against the railing. He held her arms outstretched and bound her leather wrist straps to the fence, cinching the straps so tightly above and below her breasts that a "Whoof!" of air escaped her. He inserted a large ball into her mouth and secured it by removing the strap around her belly, placing it over the ball and fastening the ends to the fence. He unzipped the same sections as the boys had and enjoyed her bare flesh in the moonlight. Her eyes widened as he reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket, removed a tawse and struck her breasts and pussy repeatedly. He then fucked her savagely, slashing her breasts. On the tenth strike she repeatedly slammed her body into the fence as she climaxed. He pulled out and came all over her mound.

In a hurry, he untied one wrist, restored his pants and continued his patrol, leaving her hanging there in the cool night. Dazedly, she untied the strap holding her head against the fence and liberated her other wrist. With no tissues or handkerchief, she scooped the Headmaster's jizz off her belly and sucked it off her fingers till she was relatively clean. For the second time in a half hour, she reassembled her dress and headed for the ladies room.

However, Matt and Lauren were standing at the main entrance to get some air. She tried to ignore them, looking away. As she was standing in the ladies room, redoing her makeup and hair, Lauren entered and informed her how disappointed Matt was with her appearance. Lauren conveyed a specific message: Janice's punishment would begin that night. She was to be tied all night, standing and spreadeagled, adorned with heavy weights, and briefly suspended. She would be whipped into the wee hours and, if she were lucky, fucked in the ass while standing.

Janice returned to her role as chaperone. The time passed with agonizing slowness as she imagined her approaching discipline session. She kept wondering which whip Matt would use -- the single- or multiple-strand -- and how heavy the weights would be. She kept looking for the remaining boys from the pool party, but she never encountered them.

Upon her arrival home, she realized her night had only begun. Being fucked by two boys and one man was the preamble to a long session of abuse at the hands of her son. She lost count of how many times she came in the early hours of the morning, her dripping body filled with a vibrator and butt plug, fresh welts lying vertically outside her weighted labia, the expensive leather bands hanging in tatters.

Around the corner: The Father deepens Janice's contrition as a servant of the faith via communion and confession. Also, Janice has a surprise encounter after confession.

Chapter Sixteen — Communion & Confession

Janice's body healed rapidly over the next couple of weeks, although she remained continually turned on by mentally reviewing how she'd been manipulated at the school dance into servicing the boys and the Headmaster. She also thought about the intense "cleansing" which Father Hood had administered, almost twenty years after her powerful attraction to him as a cockteasing teenager. Three weeks after that first session with the punishing priest, Janice received a message ordering her to appear again in a week. For the duration of that fourth week, she was frequently distracted and excited, wondering whether she would experience any new "mortifications."

Dutifully, she had resumed attending mass every Sunday. As instructed in another message from the Father, she went to early mass on Monday at 6 am, the least crowded, so she could sit in the first pew. She clothed herself according to his orders, wearing stockings but no bra or panties. Her blouse was not the luridly revealing one she had to wear when around Matthew. The Father always took a little longer administering communion to her than to the other parishioners.

The first week, following his written instructions, she knelt and clandestinely thrust her breasts through the openings in the communion railing, ashamed at what a submissive slut she was. Yet she could not disobey the Father. He positioned his thighs outside them and squeezed brutally until her mouth gasped open, whereupon he administered the wafer and wine. Instead of reciting the traditional prayer with her, he would intone whispered words in his husky voice about how proud he was of her, how beautiful she looked when receiving "mortification," how he looked forward to teaching her through more suffering.

Once a week, she also appeared, as commanded, for confession, making sure to be the last parishioner of the day. These lengthy sessions occurred at twilight, when the church was deserted. For her first visit, Father Hood removed the heavy metal screen upon entering the confessional booth. As instructed, she was already sitting on the other side, wearing a tight blouse and short skirt as she had almost twenty years ago.

She began describing, in graphic detail, the scenes from which he had not seen photos. While she was describing distended nipples, a dripping pussy, breast and pussy whippings, or being covered in cum, he made her open her blouse, drop her skirt and panties and spread her legs. After telling her to twist and pull her nipples and insert multiple fingers into her cunt, he condemned her desires and the bodily feelings they evoked as disgusting, while humiliating her as much as possible. "Standard acts of contrition would be useless for a sluttish woman such as yourself, Janice. Only stringent measures can help you."

He ordered her to turn and back up until her naked ass cheeks rested on the wood partition, whereupon he savagely cropped her tight globes with five blows from a quirt. She gasped from the pain but did not break position.

After instructing her to position her chair against the wooden partition, she knelt on the chair and he pulled her by the nipples through the opening between them, forcing her naked breasts onto the wooden shelf. After applying another half-dozen merciless cuts to the top of her breasts, he positioned his veinous cock in her face. He milked her sore breasts with his large, rough hands as he fucked her mouth until his "holy oil" filled her mouth to overflowing and she climaxed from finger-fucking herself. Despite her best efforts to gulp down his spend, thick strands of cum lay on the shelf, so she licked the wood until it was clean. The Father ordered her to be at mass again Sunday morning. Emerging from the confessional, she was grateful that the dim church was deserted so that nobody could see her shamed and flushed face.

At her second communion, he surreptitiously pinched, twisted and pulled her right nipple with his left hand while holding the communion goblet and tray in his right hand. She was so aroused by this humiliation in public that she ran to the women's room, removed a dildo from her bag, and pumped herself to orgasm in one of the stalls.

Before the second confession commenced, she stripped to her stockings and heels prior to the Father's arrival in the booth. As previously instructed, she sat on the chair and rested her legs on the extreme edges of the partition's shelf. He entered and absorbed the sight of his parishioner-sub, legs spread so wide he could see moisture at the entrance to her bare cunt. She fingered her cunt while describing the depraved gangbangs in which she'd participated, and how much she missed her son's guidance and authority. The Father handed her an asperigal and jacked himself off into a chalice as he watched her plunge the device in and out of her cunt. She bucked up and down in an orgasm so forceful that her chair keeled over, leaving her collapsed on the floor but unhurt.

He told her to get up and kneel on the chair with her head in the opening between them and lick—not drink—his hot spend out of the chalice, like a cat. Emerging from the confessional, she thought she saw an older man watching her from the distant shadows of the church, but she couldn't be sure and left in a different direction from where he was standing.

For the third communion, making sure he stood so close that nobody could see, he whispered to her to place her hand over her skirt at her groin and squeeze and pull her clit. When she hesitated to do this debased act while surrounded by parishioners, he warned that her delay would be punished in her next confession. She acquiesced and teased her large clit till he dismissed her.

In Janice's third confession, she said in a low voice what a bad mother and bad Catholic she was, how she deserved pain for contrition, and begged for guidance in her repentance. After discarding her blouse and skirt, she knelt on the chair as he tied cords onto her nipples and fastened the ends to the metal dividing screen, which was resting ajar on the wooden divider. He ordered her to coat a finger in an ornamental vial of his semen and insert it into her ass. Her eyes opened in fear as he slowly lowered the heavy screen, telling her to finger fuck her asshole as the thick nipples elongated, bearing the full weight of the heavy screen, until the striped breasts were stretched unmercifully.

His cock emerged from his habit and, after dipping it into the vial of sperm, he masturbated, paying special attention to the huge purple head. She shut her eyes and grimaced from the breast pain, the only sounds being her finger squishing in and out of her ass and his hand rubbing up and down on his phallus. Soon he grunted, spewing his cum onto the tops of her distorted breasts, and she came as well. He untied the nipple cords and she gasped with relief. Despite her protests, and as a final humiliation, he ordered her to button the tight white blouse over her drenched breasts, immediately making the thin fabric transparent as it conformed to her cum-covered chest. Walking out of the church's side door, despite the darkness of early evening, she felt incredibly degraded, knowing that she looked as if she'd just participated in a wet t-shirt contest.

Emerging from the church courtyard, the sidewalk was deserted except for, to her horror, a much older man with a cane. He stood on the sidewalk at the exact place where the church path emerged, as if he'd been stationed there by Father Hood expressly to shame her. He looked familiar and she wondered if he was the shadowed figure she'd seen after her last confession. The codger gawked at her sticky blouse, far beyond what the lowest whore would appear in public. Janice froze since he was blocking the route to her car.

Despite the cane, he crossed the few feet between them in a flash and, with surprising strength, pushed her a few feet back into the courtyard and against the rough stone wall. Although short, he was wiry and full of energy. Up close, she realized it was Mr. Dugan, a neighbor from the same block on which she lived. She had no knowledge of the session Matt had arranged with Lauren, Tom and Mr. Dugan.

With a demented gleam in his eyes, Dugan said, "Don't move or cry, you cheap slut." He raised the handle of his cane to the top button of her sticky blouse and with one savage motion, tore straight down, ripping off the buttons. "I saw you that morning when I walked past, naked in your kitchen window, on display like a hooker in a whorehouse window." The fact that a neighbor had seen her whipped and nude body lashed to the kitchen stool, covered with oil and cum, made her docile with shame. He stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth to prevent her from yelling, pulled two extra-large paper clips out of a jacket pocket, pried them apart and closed one over each blouse-covered nipple, the sore nipples which had been tortured only minutes before in the confessional. Her knees buckled from the fierce pain.

He yanked open his zipper and pulled out a thin, wizened cock. "I bet you can't live without being treated like a tart." Mortified by what was happening, she was incredibly turned on despite herself. He shoved the skirt hem into her leather belt, exposing her bare pussy to the cool evening air. He opened a third paper clip. She automatically widened her legs and thrust her pelvis forward, flashing back to the self-torture she'd administered almost twenty years ago, when she'd forced the safety pins from her plaid skirt over her slick lips, as Father Hood watched in a state of stunned excitement. Dugan closed the paper clip on her hood, causing her to whimper with pain so intense she ground her back into the wall with such force that it began to abrade her blouse.