Service Provider Ch. 14-23

Chapter Fifteen — Daddy and the Father

At 9:00 pm on a sweltering Saturday night, Janice and Jay, her father, entered the Rectory by the side door and went upstairs to Father Hood's private apartments. She'd had little sleep the night before, worrying excitedly about what the next night's scene would entail.

The Father let them in and the three entered his spacious living room. The priest told the teen girl to make three double vodkas with ice. She served the cocktails and kneeled as instructed on a low, oversized ottoman between the two men, perspiring through her new, long-sleeve, high-necked white blouse. She pulled the loose skirt up to mid-thigh, exposing her spread thighs. Thirsty and hot, they all drank deeply. She had been told to buy the shameful top at a slutty boutique. The thin fabric was wispy enough with its loose weave to be luridly sheer, yet was even more lewd by being a size too small.

"Daddy, why are you and the Father going to punish me?" she asked innocently. "I've been good all week, haven't I?" she added, tauntingly. It was true. Jay squirmed in his seat and looked at Father Hood for an answer.

"Because it's only a matter of time before you commit another transgression," the priest answered smoothly. "We're simply being proactive. And school discipline is best administered with the cooperation and participation of a parent. Wouldn't you agree, Jay?"

Janice's father nodded his assent, trying not to stare at his daughter's tits, pressing against the thin, sweat-soaked blouse. "Let's proceed," the Father said. "Remove the skirt." Janice undid the waist and, glancing back and forth between the two men, unwrapped the skirt and slowly pulled it away, revealing too-small sheer panties that only accentuated her newly shaved, bulging pussy lips and sweating clit hood. All three drank, Janice more than the men.

"Now the blouse," said the priest. Knowing her power over them, the tease slowly unbuttoned the damp top and pulled it off her shoulders, baring the breasts forced into the small bra. She sauntered in her three-inch heels over to the bar, where she poured herself another big drink, but without ice, and returned to the ottoman, spreading her thighs as widely as possible.

The priest picked up a pitcher at the bar, crossed to her and poured a stream of fresh white jizz into her tumbler. They all stared at the hot spunk as it sank to the bottom of glass and disseminated into the chilled vodka. "This is a new concoction I've developed just for you, Janice." He poured in enough so that the cum formed a peak above the surface." Jay realized how incredibly degrading this was to her. "Lick it off," the priest said.

Stunned with the humiliating command, Janice was frozen until the priest reached into a pocket of his cassock and slammed a studded black leather tawse into her left tit. While her mouth gaped in shocked pain, he struck the other breast. Before he could return to the first tit for another blow, Janice licked the mound of semen off the surface of the alcohol. "Now show your father." The submissive girl turned to Jay and opened her thick lips, showing him her wide mouth filled with a huge lake of cum. Jay was disgusted, but also out of his mind with excitement.

The priest stepped back. "Jay, restrain her." Jay stood in front of his kneeling teen as she held out her hands, joined at the wrist. He tied them together with a leather strap and fastened it to a heavy metal hook above the ottoman, tightening it until she groaned from the stress on her stretched arms and shoulders. But finally she had them, together at the same time.

Chapter Sixteen — Reunion and a Self-Administered Test

Something was knocking painfully loud on the left side of the door. The hitting switched to the right side. Janice opened her eyes. She was staring down at her thighs, spread wide on a black wrought-iron chair, the legs immobilized on the outside. At first she thought her legs must be heavy as lead, then she realized her ankles must be fastened. Both her breasts ached. The knocking had been slaps applied to first her left and then the right breast to awaken her.

The memory flooded back. For a couple of weeks she'd felt strangely restless, thinking about the church and Father Hood. Finally the urge or call became too strong to resist. She thought it would be put to rest by going to church. Unconsciously, she wore an outfit similar to the school uniform in which she'd first seduced the priest: a tight white blouse and short plaid skirt. There was no service, but the organist was practicing. She sat in the last pew of the empty church, remembering her brief but intense experiences with Father Hood, the most magnetic and sensuous man she'd ever encountered.

Quickly she fell into a reverie, eyes closed, the organ music helping her drift off. She played out their lurid scenes together, unaware that she'd raised her skirt with one hand and slipped the other into the front opening of her blouse.

Unbeknownst to her, a tall figure stood in the shadows of a nave with a perfect view of the sluttish woman, fondling herself in a pew. Her breasts strained against the thin white blouse. It was obvious she wore a black bra underneath. He was pleased that she was still wearing a short skirt and heels, although it was hardly a demure outfit for churchgoing. She looked ten years younger than her age. And now she was sacrilegiously openly squeezing and twisting her nipples with her left hand while the right plunged in and out of her pussy.

By the time that the organ reached a crescendo, Janice was cumming. When she returned to reality, she opened her eyes, horrified to realize she'd been pleasuring herself in plain view in God's house. Feeling increasingly frustrated and resentful at the father's transfer out of her life so many years ago, she stood abruptly to leave. A little dizzy from standing abruptly after a cum, she turned around and almost bumped into a priest. Her head tilted up to his face. When she saw Hood's grim face and intense eyes looking down at her, she fainted away.

The Father swiftly caught her and swept up Janice in his massive arms. Her skirt slid off her thighs and bunched at her waist. His right arm supported her naked thighs, burning hot in his hand. She wore white panties, the same color as in school issue so long ago. But this pair was skimpy, sheer, and sopping. He carried her to his office, shutting the heavy door behind him and depositing her in the chair in front of his desk. He tied her arms behind the back of the chair so she would not fall over and bound her ankles to chair rungs on the outside.

She looked even better than he remembered or imagined she'd look. Her lustrous black hair was shorter than before, and she'd lost any baby fat she'd had as a teenager. He gasped at the sight of her big tits, at the dark aureole and huge nipples, which looked thicker and more prominent than he recalled. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like her breasts and nipples were larger due to childbirth. And her thick cunt lips were definitely longer, by at least a half-inch. That happened only as a result of training.

She raised her head and stared into his eyes. "Father," she said hoarsely, "I have sinned."

"Yes, my daughter, that is why we are both here together. Here, have some brandy to revive you." A large crystal brandy snifter stood on the edge of the desk, in front of her. He grabbed a handful of her short hair and tilted back her head. She swallowed two large mouthfuls.

"Mmm, that's good," she said gratefully, licking her lips, the taste and scent of the brandy mixing with another smell that made her involuntarily lick her lips. She examined her body. Her black bra had been opened and was dangling on both sides of her breasts. Metal washers had been forced down to the base of her nipples and clit, which had been generously lubricated with cum that dripped down to her thighs. The panties had also been removed so that two erasers could be inserted into her cunt. Large safety pins were squeezing her labia. She shuddered with pleasure. It was like they were picking up exactly where they'd left off in the past.

"Yes, it's expensive. Very smooth," he agreed.

"Why have you tied me?" she asked.

"You fainted. I had to make sure you didn't fall out of the chair and hurt yourself."

"Oh. . . How long have you been in town?"

"For years I have tried to transfer back here."

"To be with your family?" she said.

"No. To finish your penitence." Janice shuddered. "I have been back for a couple of weeks, but was too busy to contact you. Busy learning about you and preparing a special, unused room in the rectory for your punishment. But I knew you would sense my presence and come here."

"Learning about me? Special room? What do you mean?"

"The Headmaster has filled me in on your willingness as a good mother to help your son's college admission." Janice colored with shame, her nipples hardening. "He and I have known each other since college. Here, drink more." He lifted the snifter to her mouth and she drank.

"Except that I am not a good mother. On the contrary."

"I have been friends with the Vice Chancellor since grade school, so he has also been most helpful and descriptive." She flushed even more, her head hanging, squirming with embarrassment in her bonds. "He is talented and stern, but even he cannot give you what you need, only I can. The special room? It is a place for your contrition and discipline. It has taken time to design and outfit with instruments, devices that are equal to your. . . capacity, your appetite, for sinning."

Janice's head shot up. Her cunt shuddered. "What kind of instruments?"

"All in good time. Tell me about your marriage."

"There's so little to tell. He was an okay guy, but he was weak, indecisive, plain, boring. I had a few relationships afterward, but they were all disappointing and brief. And they all took time away from my son. For that, I've been a bad mother."

"How is your son? Does he also think you're a bad mother?" the Father inquired.

"Matthew's doing well in college, thank you," she said proudly. "And he is strict with me, which I respect and admire. The opposite of his father."

"Strict in what way?" he asked directly, even though he knew the answer. Perspiration appeared on her forehead as she flushed with humiliation. But Janice felt her cunt juicing.

"I exercise at lest two hours a day, six days a week. I'm actually much more fit and weigh less than I did when we. . . when I was a teen. I'm even fitter than I was a few months ago."

"Yes, you look extremely well, and many years younger than your age." But she knew he wanted her confession.

"Please give me another drink." The Father gave her a healthy swallow. "Matthew is the man in the house and he controls me. He doesn't let things go. . . he disciplines my bad behavior, regularly." The priest waited silently. "Umm, he even whips, canes or flogs me," she said in a whisper. There was a long pause; the silence was oppressive.

"For example, on graduation night, I had the first encounter in years with a man. I was drunk. Matthew disapproved because I was drunk and didn't even know the guy."

"What did you do with this total stranger?"

"I. . . I gave him head." Silence. "I went down on him, I sucked him off, I blew him. Matthew said that I was acting like a drunken slut and must suffer the consequences."

"Which were?" Hood asked, eyebrow arching and cock hardening.

"Matthew removed my skirt, pulled down my panties, and spanked me." There was no sound or movement in the room. "With a wooden kitchen tool."

The Father was aware that she was describing the least lurid of all her son's discipline sessions, but he chose not to press the matter.

"The remainder of the preparatory work requires time and effort. If I am to complete the room and we are to proceed, I must have proof of your good faith."

"Of course, Father," she vowed contritely. "Whatever you decide."

"Then I decide that you are to administer a self-punishment." Her eyes widened. "That is, a self-flagellation."

"But Father," she protested in a humiliated panic, "I've never done such a thing."

"That's exactly why I'm here," he stated in a self-evident tone, opening the center drawer of his desk, removing a two-foot flogger with a rectangular piece of leather at the tip, and placing it on the desk in front of her.

"Do you mean now?" she croaked.

In reply, he stood and untied her hands from behind the chair. Immediately, she reached for the snifter and drank several times.

"What will you have me do?" she muttered, her breathing deepening. She swayed ever so slightly from all the brandy. She also noticed that he shifted in his chair and adjusted his cassock. They both shared the same thought, that all these years of waiting had finally borne fruit.

"You are to whip your breasts. And because you voiced an objection, you are to flog your nipples as well. At the same time, you must punish your pussy. Why do you shave yourself?"

She finished the double portion in the snifter. "Matthew says being shaved is a sign of my submissive status. Also, that my labial lips are unusually thick and long, and they show more prominently without any hair. He insists my lips be stretched even longer, and it's easier to apply clamps, chains and weights when I'm bald there." They also show wetly, the Father thought to himself.

"Your lips look longer than I remember? Is that correct?"

"Yes, Father, when Matthew is here, he makes sure they're clamped and weighted every day. They've extended at least a half, maybe three-quarters of an inch since I became obedient to Matthew."

The Father opened a closet door and removed a two-foot shaft of wood that he fitted into the edge of his desk. It sloped down. She lifted herself up a couple of inches so that its flat base could rest across the seat of her chair. She'd never seen anything like it.

He draped the white panties over the wooden shaft as a shameful symbol of her subservience. The priest crossed to a chest, unlocked a drawer and returned with two dildos that he attached to the seat of the chair. One for her cunt, the other anal. The priest plugged in the electric cords that dangled from each.

"I imagine you've never see these before. It's a new design. The exterior is pliable rubber or plastic that stretches. The shafts extend to almost double their length."

Janice was amazed—and transfixed. "Please give me more brandy," she begged.

The father refilled her glass. She drank while he untied her ankles and greased the dildos until they were dripping. He shoved the panties into her mouth. "Begin," he ordered.

Using her long, strong legs for leverage, she raised herself several inches and gasped as she lowered herself onto the dildos. Knowing that the Father would brook no half measures, Janice held the flogger far away and swung it across her body into the side of her left breast. She grunted in pain, waited ten seconds and slashed the tit flesh on the top, then the inside, leaving the bottom for last.

Father Hood turned on the switches to the lowest setting and she yelled in amazed pleasure as, without her having to move, the one dildo extended itself up her cunt and retracted, whereupon the second invaded her ass. They continued to alternate. The sensation was so novel that she resumed the flogging even more strenuously on her right breast. The Father watched as welt marks appeared on her left breast. Apparently the dildos were well designed, according to Janice's groans and the sheen of sweat on her tight stomach.

"Pull the hood off your clit and strike it," he commanded. She grabbed the thick covering and pushed it aside, revealing the glinting washer, for a tentative hit directly on her fat clit. She moaned, more in pleasure than pain. "Harder," he directed, turning the dildo speed to medium. The thrusting dicks impelled her to a much harder blow on the second stroke to her clit. "Again." She struck a third hit.

"Turn over the flogger." She rotated the device and fear showed across her face: the opposite side was studded with a dozen metal pinpricks emerging from inside the leather. "Do it, or I'll do it even harder than you."

She began whipping her breasts again, screaming into the panty gag, humping her pelvis on the ceaselessly thrusting dildos. Her strokes became fewer and more erratic as her orgasm approached. All she could focus on was her ass and cunt. She held out the flogger to him, her eyes pathetically pleading that he take over. He yanked the flogger out of her hand, turned the dildo mechanism to high, gripped a sweat-soaked nipple and jerked it outward till she screamed. Holding the thick black nipple only by the tip, he slashed the studded tip of the flogger into the outstretched nipple.

Janice was lost in the pounding dildos as the searing pain erupted in her abused nipple. It spurred her obsession to cum. The Father attacked her other nipple and turned the dildos to their highest setting. Dementedly delirious, her head whipped around furiously, sweat flying, the father spread her clit hood and repeatedly smashed the studs into her bloated clit. As the metal spikes struck her inflamed clit, the priest's submissive began a series of climaxes so intense and violent that they were frightening to watch.

A minute later, she collapsed backward as the priest raised his Cossack and sprayed her down with a torrent of semen, completely drenching her slack face and taking special aim at the burning breasts covered with red microdots from the vicious flogger's impact. He jetted onto her mound and the luridly inflamed clit, milking the last spurts along her slack forearms and the fronts of her sweaty thighs.

When Janice opened her eyes, she reveled in the shocking power of her multiple orgasms and then remembered the degrading acts of self-abuse she'd committed. The office was empty. She stared down at her breasts and their throbbing nipples, but her tits were so covered in cum she couldn't detect any visible damage. She pushed up shakily, her drenched cunt and grasping asshole reluctantly releasing the dildos, which had returned to their original, compacted size. She stared at her pussy, her clit aching. She opened her mouth and the panties slowly slid out onto the floor.

She staggered over to a closed door. Sure enough, it was a washroom, but there were no tissues, towels, paper towels or toilet paper with which to clean herself. The bastard had removed everything. She was glad he'd ruined her panties so they could not cause even more distress to her whipped clit. Unbelievably, his semen coated her seemingly everywhere, torso and limbs. She scraped it off her face, arms and thighs, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of the delicious cream. Then she fastened the skirt around her sticky thighs and put on the bra, moaning as the tight fit pressured her sore nipples and beaten breasts. At least the jizz covering them insulated the bra fabric from the flesh. It wasn't easy to pull on the blouse, considering how sticky were her arms and chest.

A note on the desk said, "You have passed the test of sincerity and obedience. 11 pm, Sat, 10 days from now, Rectory."

Knowing she must smell like a cum bucket, she carefully opened the office door by a crack and peered into the dim, deserted corridor. Relieved, she slunk out the door, walking briskly but quietly until she found a little-used door to the outside. En route home in her car, her facial expressions were torn by conflicting emotions: reuniting with the man she'd obsessed over for years, fear of the ironclad hold he had on her, excitement at the devastating orgasms, and overwhelming shame at the debased punishment she'd willingly imposed on her tits and pussy. If this degrading, pain-filled scene had been proof of her "goodwill," then what could the main session possibly be like? In reponse, her cunt fluttered.