Sins and Saviors

The last bells of the school day had tolled, and 18-year-old Fiona listened as giggles and girlish taunts filled and left the hallways of St. Martin's. She sighed, scowling at her classmates as she restlessly shifted on the Disciplinarian's wooden bench, the one she had been snapped at to sit on by Sister Cecilia. Her ear still smarted from being dragged by it, and Fiona rubbed it absentmindly as she waited for the lecture she knew was coming.

She made a brief attempt to pull her skirt down further... she had hemmed it shorter than code, another reason she was sitting here. Failing that, she sprawled out over half the bench, admiring how the plaid skirt flattened her rounded tummy. Might as well make the best of the situation and try to look as sultry as possible, she figured. Maybe she could flirt her way out of this one.

Fiona was a good student... or had been for the last 3 years. She had tried to be good this year... just... certain things had gotten in the way. First it was her sister, a very close confidante, who had gone away as an AIDS worker to Nigeria. Then, it was the pressure of selecting colleges... senior year had pushed Fiona into a mess of paperwork and essay writing. It was also the pressure of her body curving and filling out... her large breasts and round ass had been subject to some teasing from the other students.

She could blame it on thousands of things... but... it was really the thoughts she tried to push out of her head. Dirty thoughts, brought about by her Catholic history class... fantasies about flagellation and pain, angry priests and stern nuns who would teach her discipline. She stayed awake at night imagining herself bound to the Catherine wheel, or raped by barbarians when she would not yield to them. She wanted to be taken. She felt throbbing between her legs as she prayed, and felt ashamed, insomnia claiming her as the guilt stabbed at her conscience. One assignment was left undone, then another, and it quickly added up until it was too much to catch up on. Then, it was daydreaming in class... finally, a burst of rebelliousness led her to shorten her skirts.

It was all over then. She began snapping at her parents, at the nuns. She fell further and further into her secret lusts, and began touching herself, rubbing her clit as she dreamt of cruel hands, forcing her to deny God, punishing her with her refusal. Today, she had been passing notes in class to her best friend about her interest in one of the boys at the neighboring school, citing all the sinful things she had done with him. The note had been intercepted by Sister Cecilia, and she had been led to Father Lucian's bench in disgrace.

She pouted and kicked the bench leg. Like these nuns had ever had someone interested in them! All this nonsense about "thou shalt not" this, that, and the other thing was a drag, and Fiona didn't see how any of it did any good. She wasn't doing anything wrong. It was just wrong to get caught, apparently. She rolled her eyes, recalling the speech about how she would end up pregnant and shaming her family at the rate she was going. Blah blah blah, thought Fiona, people do this stuff all the time and don't get pregnant. And she knew to use a condom, anyway, though her parents had never told her. They figured thick girls didn't get laid, Fiona thought bitterly. As the clock ticked the minutes by, and the wooden door stood, silent and forbidding, she closed her eyes, abandoning her thoughts to daydream again...

She imagined she was Saint Agatha, at the mercy of the evil the magistrate Quinctianus. His eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure as she struggled against her bonds. She thought she caught a glint in his hand- something sharp.

"In spite of your crimes, I allow you your life," he growled, his foul breath in her ear, "and all I ask for in exchange is your body, and yet you refuse me?"

She spat at him. "I will not go against my vows, for you, for anyone!"

His hand crept across her face, grabbing her dark hair and pulling her neck back. She felt cool steel against her throat and gasped inadvertently. "So you prefer it rough, eh? Is that why you refused customers at the brothel, they were too soft for your tastes? I can remedy that, wench!"

The knife pressed into her skin, and she felt it break- but she would not cry. "God save you for what you do!" Agatha gasped. "You know not what consequences you shall receive!"

He laughed heartily, letting the knife rip into her skin, down, down, tearing the bodice from her dress. Her skin sang, and blood began to well up where the blade had been. "I prefer to have my pleasures here, now! You God offers nothing for me." His lips came closer to her nipple, and she turned her head away...

The door opened with a bang. "Fiona!" Father Lucian barked. "Wasn't daydreaming exactly what got you in trouble in the first place?"

Fiona opened one eye, then another. "Sorry, Father," she purred, her brown eyes meeting his and then looking down coyly. Father Lucian was often whispered about amongst the girls, a strict man well known for his paddlings, with a small paunchy belly and a few graying hairs. Many a girl's ass had been reddened by his hand, and it was whispered that he enjoyed a little too well the punishments he got to inflict. Fiona's heart skipped a beat; she had never had cause to meet him before, but where fear was expected, now she only felt a strange excitement. The throbbing began, and she flushed a little. His hair was trimmed severely, and his piercing green eyes were known for extracting a confession from the most unrepentant of souls. They pierced her now, but she met them defiantly, daring him to make her repent. He was not much taller than her, perhaps six feet- she began to wonder if he could punish her at all. He didn't seem quite so tough.

"Hmph," he grunted, looking her over disdainfully and gesturing, "Come in, my child, we have much to discuss." His eyes seemed both lustful and disgusted, making her feel naked and dirty; though she was trying to be rebellious, she had to look away. She was sure he could see into her thoughts, into her imaginings, and wondered what he thought. Like it mattered! She ignored those thoughts and stood, smoothing her plaid skirt down around her thighs. With a toss of her short hair, she entered his office.

"Sit," Father Lucian said gruffly, indicating a chair as he moved around to sit behind the desk. Fiona felt small- the desk was grand, the room large and Spartan. She lounged in the wooden chair casually as he glared at her from behind the desk.

"I hear," he began, his voice quiet and angry, "that you have been slacking in your studies, Fiona McLear. Sister Cecilia is beside herself, and says she can do nothing with you, that you are more likely to be seen staring out the window than studying your bible. She says you're disrupting her class with mouthy comments, and even passing inappropriate notes! Not at all how we would expect an 18 year old girl to behave! Is this so?"

She gave a dramatic sigh, crossing her legs and letting the skirt slide over her knees to mid-thigh. She loved her thighs... they were juicy and pale, inviting the crack of a ruler. "Yeeessss....," she said, head cocked to one side, "but I can explain..."

"Enough!" he roared, standing, his hand smacking the desk and shaking his pens. Fiona jumped back a little, startled. "There is no explanation needed! You have been told that your attention is mandatory, and this disobedience is not acceptable. I will not let this insolence go unpunished- the rest of the girls talk, I know. Allow one to stray and the rest follow after, urging on chaos and destruction and tarnishing the reputation of this school!"

Fiona rolled her eyes and laughed. "Oh, whatever, Father! These girls are like sheep, they're too afraid to stray from the herd. They should be put in kennels after their classes and kept as pets, for they'll never survive on their own."

Father Lucian's lips tightened for a moment, then, much to Fiona's surprise, he laughed shortly. "Kennels, eh?" he said, his mouth smiling wickedly and his eyes narrowing. "I think you are more the type for that, eh? A lion amongst sheep!" He stood then, undoing his belt thoughtfully and coming over to where she sat. He bent over next to her til his mouth was barely touching her ear. "But," he murmured, "I think I might have a way to tame you and put you back on the path of Christ. Lions lay with the lambs, you know... Reach out your hands, my child, palms upright."

Fiona's mind raced. Her hands? What could he do with them? She was expecting to be smacked with the belt, for sure, but he wanted her hands. This would be easy, easier than she expected. She was almost disappointed as she reached out in front of her.

The belt whipped her palms, hard, and she gasped in pain and shock. In a flash, he wrapped it around her wrists, tightly, so she could not escape the bonds. "So, my child, you wish to tempt the devil?" he breathed against her cheek, "The devil knows what to do with girls like you." Deftly he buckled the belt, leaving the end free. Fiona looked at him, unsure, but the fear passed quickly and was replaced with a sneer. He merely smiled, removing his coat.

"I think I'll be making myself comfortable... I hope you don't mind, Miss McLear," and he dropped the coat to the floor. "Punishment takes a lot out of a person, and you're in need, I hear, of a long session."

Fiona laughed. "What can you possibly do? Corporal punishment has guidelines, you know. I can report you to the authorities."

He was quiet then, his eyes thoughtful. "You could. And what would you say? That Father Lucian was merciless, his punishment unfit? You were innocent?"

"Yes," she said, eyes flashing, "and I can say that you raped me."

He chuckled. "Ah, my child," he said, a vicious glint in his eye, "I suspect you won't do anything of the type."

"Why not?"

He grabbed her by her black hair, lifting and then shoving her to the floor. Fiona cried out as her forearms hit, unable to catch herself as she fell. "Because, you little slut," he growled dangerously, "you want this. You crave it. The devil dances in your blood- do you think I can't tell?"

Fiona was silent.

"Tell me to let you go. Tell me you don't lie awake nights, dreaming of the ancient days of saintdom, thinking about sewing thorns into your clothes, whipping yourself like some sort of martyr!"

She sagged, then. He knew. She didn't know how he knew, but he knew. He had read her mind. She was dirty, filthy, and God must hate her for the things she thought of. Then, she stiffened. How dare he? How dare he presume? He didn't know her! She could withstand his worst. She righted herself until she was kneeling and spat in his face. In a low voice, Fiona growled, "Prove it."

The gauntlet was thrown. Father Lucian was pleased. It had been a long time since he had gotten to savor the tears of a brat. Too long.

His arm flew and he slapped her face, throwing her to the ground. "Prove it, you say? Oh, I shall. By the end of this session, you will be weeping for me to remove the devil from your soul, wretched girl!" He flipped up her skirt, exposing her black cotton panties. "Oho," he sneered, "look who's too good to wear the standard white! Do you try to be as provocative as possible? It doesn't impress anyone, you know." His hand grabbed her face, now streaked with startled tears. "Is that why you do it? To impress people?"

She sniffled a bit, and snarled "I don't need to impress anyone, old man! I wear them because I like them!"

He went to his desk, opening a drawer and removing something she couldn't quite see. The room was silent... until a small *click* disturbed the tranquility, and Fiona began to breath heavily, ready to scream. "Don't.... move...." he hissed, and she felt cold steel. It was like her fantasy... but now that she had it, she wasn't sure if she wanted it anymore.

It was too late- the panties fell to the floor, and her pussy was confronted with cool air. Father Lucian had cut her panties off her. This did not bode well. Fiona began to scream.

"Oh, my, a noisy little wildcat, hmm? Too bad all the students are home and can't help you! Ah well, in case, can't have the nuns worried-" and he picked up her panties. "Ah, wet, I see? Do you wear black panties so when your filthy cunt drips all over them, it's incredibly obvious?" He took a deep whiff, smiled, and balled them up, shoving them into her mouth. "That quiets you right down, doesn't it, my child?"

His hands began to smooth over her round ass. "Beautiful.... too bad we have to redden it so, isn't it? Ah, but with skin so pale, you'll have the marks for quite some time. That will help you remember respect, won't it, dear? But the floor is hardly the proper place for such punishment," and he picked her up, pushing her over a chair instead and clipping the loose end of the belt to a hook on the seat. She silently, sullenly observed how easily he moved her- she was tall, and not light, so he had to be wiry under that shirt. Fiona began to wonder how smart her decision to be mouthy was.

Her skirt was flipped over her ass again, and something was wrapped around her eyes, surrounding her with darkness. The she began to panic... not knowing what was about to happen started to terrify her. She heard some rustling, and then, suddenly... WHACK! A hand smacked her ass and she yelped, muffled by her panties.

"I believe you need 20 such smacks, don't you, my dear? Make you pliable and willing, and then, perhaps, we can exorcise those demons inside." WHACK! WHACK! The blows hit one cheek, then the other, slow at first, then faster, until she saw white behind her eyes. Fiona never knew a hand could cause so much pain. Father Lucian showed no mercy, instead enjoying the tears that soaked through the blindfold and fell, forming a puddle on the floor.

She soon lost count of the smacks. There were more than twenty, she was sure, and she hated herself for feeling so hot inside. The throbbing was worse than before, and while she wanted desperately to cover her pussy, she couldn't, and she was humiliated. She hoped he couldn't see how aroused she was getting. Her hopes were futile.

"Ah! So the schoolgirl slut likes punishment, does she? Perhaps the spanking was too lenient- perhaps something rougher would fit the bill!" She felt something sear into her skin, and she tried to scream and couldn't. Fiona felt drops form and flow, down, down, droplets forming rivulets and circling her pussy with a gasp- cold water. It was ice he was using, icing the reddened skin. It felt like a burn, and then was so cold, too cold! But she could not protest, could not get away. Father Lucian shoved the last part of the cube into her pussy and she wept.

There was nothing for a long while. It felt like days to Fiona, tied up there, blind and helpless. She heard nothing, and wildly wondered if he had left her. Would she be found like this tomorrow by the nuns? What would she say? How would she explain to her parents?

There was a sharp pain that ripped against her thighs, those creamy, white thighs. She bit her tongue and screamed, useless though it was. There was another, another, too many, too much! Fiona was overwhelmed, and it felt like he was cutting her to ribbons. Each stroke felt like it was placed right next to the one before, leaving nothing untouched. She sobbed, and hated him passionately. It continued. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it ceased, and the gag was removed. The blindfold was next, and as she blinked, Father Lucian's eyes came into focus. He looked furious, grabbing her hair and forcing her eyes to his.

"You little whore- I read the note Sister Cecilia caught you with. So you've been slutting around with boys, have you?"

Somewhere, under the pain, there was still one little spark, one last defiance. She scowled, and retorted, "What business is it of yours, you pervert? You get off on schoolgirls?"

There was a sharp intake of breath. She regretted it as soon as she said it, and winced, sinking against the chair for support. What had she done?

"Well," he said between clenched teeth, "We'll have to check you for virginity then, won't we?" He forced her legs apart, tying them to the legs of the chair, and she began to fight against her bonds, frightened. Was he going to rape her after all?

He spat on her pussy lips then. She wriggled, and growled under her breath, but it was useless. She moaned, a little turned on and hating her body for it. Fiona prayed that God would save her, unlike other martyrs, BEFORE the raping and torture.

God didn't answer.

Roughly he slid one finger into her pussy, marveling at how tight she was in spite of her transgressions... and noticing with secret satisfaction how wet she was, as well. Sister Cecilia had been right- this girl needed the punishment, as much as he needed to give them. God, he knew, had put him on this earth to be sure the girls in his care would be submissive and meek, as the Bible told them to be. Too many women were independent, anymore, and didn't respect their men. Father Lucian believed the desires raging through him were just confirmation of his divine duty to keep the girls in their place, and teach them to respect men as their protectors. Fiona McLear, he reckoned, pushing his finger in a bit deeper and hearing her gasp, had been needing this reminder for quite some time. Her wet cunt was proof that his punishment was necessary, that she had the devil in her soul.

His resolve strengthened, he thrust another finger into her and listened to her moan. Her pussy clamped around his fingered like a vice, and he wondered how it was possible for her to be as wild as she claimed in her note. Fiona's words came back to him, dirty, explicit talk of wanting some boy to tie her up, to have his way with her, fucking her hard and fiercely. She claimed she had done this before, bragging about her debauchery as though it was something to be proud of. But she had seemed truly afraid when he bound her, and was tight, too tight for such rough treatment. He swore he brushed against a hymen... untouched. He pulled the fingers out of her, and grabbed her face, smearing her juices onto her face as she whimpered.

"For such a little slut, you seem pretty tight. Are you lying to your friends, trying to make yourself sound more wild than you are, Miss McLear? You better start explaining!"

The floodgates opened, and she began to sob. "Yes," she cried brokenly, "oh yes, I've been so bad! I don't know what came over me, Father, I don't, I just... I've had these fantasies, and I had to get them out of my head..."

He glared down at her tear-streaked face, green fire in his eyes. "Fantasies? You have fantasies of this, eh? You need to be put in your place? Is that the cause of your disobedience?"

"Yes, oh, yes! Please, Father... help me! I don't want to be bad...it's just... so hard... I don't want to go to Hell!" She hung her head, her pride gone.

He stood, hiding the righteous gleam in his eyes. At last, he could truly exercise his skills! "Yes, my child... I will help you," he soothed her, his mind racing as he came up with a plan. "But it will hurt. It may hurt terribly, but you will feel such relief when it is over. It must be intense, for the devil is deep within you. Will you trust me?"

She nodded, and sank into the chair.

One finger slipped into her pussy, then two... he stroked them back and forth, building her up. He had to get her ready, for the process of ripping the demons out from within her was a difficult endeavor. It was not for her good or his that he get her aroused, he reasoned, but for the good of her treacherous body, so it would accept what he needed to do more readily. Father Lucian rotated his fingers, stroking the inner walls of her pussy firmly, watching her intently as she struggled against her bonds and tried to pull him deeper. Knowing he had to break the hymen, he rubbed her clit with his thumb, rubbing slowly at first, then faster, faster... when she began to spasm, he thrust firmly into her cunt, and she cried out, her pussy clamping around his fingers tightly as she came.