The Spanking Agency Ch. 03

"Cocks, Vicar," she whispered, "Big juicy penises. Huge dribbling dicks with balls full of thick creamy spunk. Massive ding dongs thrusting hard into my tight little pussy. It's all I can think about. Being fucked by gigantic Willie's in either hole until they fill me with their wicked seed. I am so ashamed, Sir. Whatever am I supposed to do? Sister Myrtle thinks I should be flogged naked and have such evil thoughts beaten and whipped out of me. Help me, Vicar, you're my only hope!"

Reginald stared round-eyed and open-mouthed as her words ran around inside his head with bells ringing behind them. Oh. My. Word. She was pitch perfect and was hitting every beat within his soul. Good God Almighty. He was going to welt her poor little arse like there was no tomorrow if it was the last thing he did.

"Uhuh," he stuttered lamely, "And are these thoughts unbidden?"

"They are, Vicar," she nodded, "The sex between my legs speaks more to me than the sense between my ears. I am so ashamed of these feelings, for they are sins of the flesh and they need to be driven out before they consume my soul. I need you to take me in hand and do whatever it is that needs to be done," Her eyes fell again on the cane, "I think you have the means to do that in your possession."

"The cane?" he asked as he pointed it at her menacingly, "Are you willing to take a severe whipping across your bare arse?" He felt himself start slightly at his choice vocabulary. No matter. They were both in the moment and the stage was theirs.

"I am."

Reginald got to his feet and tapped the front of his desk, "Then let us begin, Sister Catherine. Prostrate yourself before God and raise your tunic for the caning you so obviously deserve.

*

Her caning by the Vicar was as intense as she had expected.

By the seventh stroke, they had both found her unspoken limits in the amount of pain that she could handle and the strength of each stroke she could take. Both were amazed at the resilience of her rump and the way it always came back for more.

The first strokes of the rattan had been carefully administered. Reginald was always attentive to the length of swing and how deep the bite as he delivered each stroke. Number One was a sighter; a way to measure the arc and where it would land across her backside. Once he understood the lay of the land, he could now judge and test the strength of her tolerance in tune with her desires. The caning was as exhilarating as he'd hoped for. More than anything, he hoped she was feeling exactly the same.

THERWICK!

Catherine hunched forward on the desk as the wood wrapped itself around her shanks and bit deeply into her flesh before rebounding away like a rejected spitting serpent. Almost immediately, she could feel the crimson welt swell up in its wake as the pain rose in her rear. He was laying each one on harder than the last and she yelled out loud stamping her feet as the pain washed all over her.

"OOoof, Vicar!" she gasped as her sore arse did a wiggle and a dance, "Jeepers, that one REALLY stings a LOT!!"

"Are you alright to keep going?" asked Reginald, "Remember your safe word if you've had enough now. I may be a Vicar but I'm not a sadist."

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine. How many was that?"

"We're up to nine."

Catherine reached up and pulled away a stray strand of hair that had escaped her cowl. Nine? Was that all? Her bum felt huge. Immense. Like she had sat in a bucket full of ants as she winced at the throbbing sting pulsing in and around her crotch. Good God. Her sex was aching like mad in the most delightful way with her pussy dripping like a hot tap on heat.

"Twenty-four," she gasped as she turned her head to her left to look at him standing there with the cane wobbling in his grip, "Two dozen. Since this is both our first times, let's make it one to remember. Just as hard as the last one. Cane my fat arse for me, Vicar."

Her punisher nodded. What an amazing lady! What an absolute trooper to let him do this to her even though he suspected it was more for her benefit than his. But who was he to deny such a willing companion? He raised the cane again. "Now then, Sister Catherine," he said firmly, "About those huge cocks you keep dreaming about.."

SWOOSH!!

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOWCHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

*

"Are you alright, Catherine?" asked Reginald as he opened the cupboard behind his desk and put the well-used cane away in its safe place, "I may have been a little over-enthusiastic when applying the rod to your rear."

She gave her head a shake. "No, no, I'm fine," she grimaced with a smile, "I always knew my arse was as tough as an old boot. She can take a good hiding and still come back for more without much fuss. I just have to be sensible about it that's all. I've got a big pot of cold cream at home that'll ease the sting," She ran her fingers up and down each growing welt, "Heck, those feel amazing. For someone who says they haven't done it before you've done a pretty good job. Slapping my cheeks first helped a lot I think. Sort of got the motor running and warmed up. I'll say one thing, Vicar, I'll always remember this first time as an Agency girl."

She glanced over at her first customer as she stood there grasping the front of her tunic above her waist to leave her hairy wet pussy on display for all to see. She smiled knowingly to herself as she saw him taking furtive glances at her dark thatch as he sat fiddling with himself behind his desk. Catherine knew he hadn't chosen any "special extras" but the devil on her right shoulder whispered in her ear and naughty thoughts began to swirl in the ether.

"Do you want me to take care of that for you, Vicar?" she asked him.

Reginald jumped like he'd been caught with his hand in the pickle jar as he tried not to stare at the woman's oh so inviting sex. What? What did she just ask him? Take care of what? His thing? Uh. No. Well, maybe. He frowned to himself. Don't be stupid. You're a Vicar. A man of the cloth. An upright pillar of the community.

He felt his cock throbbing in his pants. Then again, who would know? Who would find out? Who would say anything? No one, that's who. He swallowed hard. Do it. Ask her to do it. For him. For them both. What's a little fuck between friends?

He glanced at the Cross on the wall as she walked around his desk to stand in front of him still holding her skirt above her waist.

"I suck a mean cock, Reginald, " she smiled as he sat there staring at her heated crotch, "And I have a wet pussy needing to be filled. Take your pick."

The Vicar couldn't speak but licked his lips as he reached forward and held her hips before laying this wonderful lady down on her back across his desk. He slowly began to remove his trousers and underpants to leave his rigid prick weeping in his hand as he moved between her spread thighs and aimed his penis at her liquid hole.

Forgive me, Father, for I am about to fuck.

*

Epilogue.

There was a knock on his study door.

The Vicar looked up to see his housekeeper peek her head around and smile nervously at him. What was this? He raised a hand and urged her to come in. "Mable, my dear, what can I do for you this fine FINE day!" he smiled brightly. The Winter sun was shining in through the latticed window and he was full of the joys of Spring which made him smile wider.

His housekeeper came and stood before him with a most peculiar look on her pleasant face. Reginald looked up at her wondering why she seemed so hesitant. "Are you alright?" he asked, feeling suddenly concerned.

Mable nodded and gulped. "Why didn't you tell me?" she said quietly.

He frowned. "I beg your pardon?" he replied looking non-plussed. What on earth was wrong with Mrs. Proops? Had something happened? The Vicar stared as his housekeeper leaned over his desk and picked up the set of house keys in front of him. "Is there something wrong?"

Mable didn't say anything but walked around behind his chair to the main cupboard and inserted a key into the lock. With a click, she slowly opened it and reached in.

Reginald froze in his seat. What was she doing? Only he had access to that cupboard and knew what was kept inside as she well knew. He just sat there and watched as she came back around his desk to stand in front of him. In her hands, she was holding the cane.

"Er, I ah," he mumbled turning a deeper shade of pink, "I can explain. I think." he blustered as he tried to think of a good reason to have a cane in his study.

His housekeeper shook her head and placed a finger to her lips. "Shhhhhhh," she whispered, "I know."

To his utter shock and amazement, Mable turned around and raised her skirts to reveal a fine pair of black-stockinged legs with matching suspenders framing a large pear-shaped bottom minus a pair of knickers. He felt his mouth drop open in sheer befuddlement and sudden appreciation. He was lost for words.

Mable peeked at him over her shoulder and smiled to herself at the look on the Vicars face. She did know. She now knew all about his little secrets and urges. The games he liked to play and how she very much wanted to be a part of them. She bent forward slightly sticking her firm arse out for his attention.

"I think I've been a bad girl, Vicar," she teased, giving her bum a little wiggle, "Do you know anyone who might like to take it in hand and give it a good thrashing with this bendy cane?" She stepped back and plonked her read end on the desk in front of him, "And not just the cane. I quite like being spanked and strapped with all sorts of lovely things too."

The Vicar gave himself a shake. WHAT? He sat staring at his housekeepers squished posterior as it twitched in front of him. SERIOUSLY? Good. God. Almighty. Christmas had come early. God bless you, Mrs. Proops!

"I can think of nothing I'd rather do, Mable," he replied passionately as he looked up at her, "What an absolutely splendid woman you are. It will be my absolute pleasure, my dear. And most assuredly yours too."

He came around the desk and they both fell into each other's arms and hugged tightly before he kissed her lightly on her lips.

Mable stood on tippy-toe and whispered in his ear. "I suck a mean cock given half the chance, Vicar," she sexily promised him, "Do you want me to do that for you and the other nasty and naughty things as well?" She stepped back and laughed at the look on his face. It was a face of shock, surprise, bewilderment, and dawning delight. Her Vicar looked like he was going to burst with happiness.

She glanced over his shoulder at the Cross on the wall and thanked God she had forgotten her keys. She had realized she had left them on the hall table and had gone back to get them only to discover the Vicar was entertaining a rather unusual guest as she peeked through the study door keyhole to watch the drama unfold before her rapt attention. Some lady from some sort of Agency or other the lady had said. Maybe she should make inquiries in the future.

No matter. This was now. After all these years it was just her and her Vicar.

Life was perfect.

**

The end of part 3.

Coming soon: The Spanking Agency part 4: Girl Talk.