I'll Have Nun of That!

I heard a dog bark in the distance. A chink of light came around the edge of the blind as the sun rose for the start of another day. As it climbed a little more, patterns of light danced on the wall until a single strong beam was cast on the wooden crucifix that hung directly opposite the end of my bed.

Another day! But this was no ordinary day -- it was the dawn of my fiftieth birthday; a day that had been long coming and would, no doubt, soon pass. For more than a decade, I had dreaded today. I did not often consider my own mortality, but my father, who spent much of his working life planning a long and happy retirement, passed before reaching his sixtieth birthday -- and I wonder if this is to be my last decade too.

I had long since stopped attending church, but I had treasured the crucifix since adolescence. It had been given to me by our family priest on my thirteenth birthday, but it had a secret that had stayed with it for all those years, never once told by me. As I lay in my bed, watching the sunbeam play on the bronze figure of Christ, I could not help but to think back to that day when I became a teenager.

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The service had ended and Father Ignatius had said goodbye to the last of the faithful few who still came to a weekday Mass. Andrew, the altar boy, was tidying up the sanctuary -- so many little chores -- the cruets to be returned to their place in the vestry; the silverware to be cleaned and put back in the safe; the Altar Missal to be reset -- the ribbon markers moved to next week's readings; and the Priest's vestments to be hung and returned to their closet once he disrobed. Andrew moved around quietly -- he had been an altar boy since he was five and had started to carry the incense boat. Today, he turned thirteen -- so there was a sense of urgency in completing the chores. School was out for the summer, and so he had the rest of the day to himself. Maybe a bike ride somewhere or perhaps take a fishing rod down to the pond and see if anything would surrender to a carefully baited hook?

Sister Mary was sat quietly in the front pew. She had grown up in the parish, and so many people had found it hard to adjust to seeing her back. Everyone knew her as Tammy -- but now she was Sister Mary. Tammy had been a mischievous, fun loving girl. She was in her early twenties now, but she had a little 'reputation'. She was what was known as an "early developer" and by the age of twelve or thirteen had developed an ample bosom that attracted the attention of the boys in school, and, if truth were told, a few of their fathers too. Mothers warned sons that she was "not a good girl", which only fired up even more interest. After she left school, Tammy seemed to develop an interest in older men. She would wear clothes that accentuated her bust and her behind. Low cut tops, short skirts and fishnet stockings were common choices for Tammy. But now, Sister Mary was visiting. She had been away at the convent for a little over a year, and now those assets -- a faint memory for so many men in the parish -- were hidden under a white wimple and black veil, concealing a full head of long curly brown hair. And who knew what secrets were hidden under that long black habit? Perhaps Father Ignatius did?

Andrew sat quietly polishing silver in the corner of the vestry, hidden from view by a curtain that divided the room. Voices could be heard approaching, and the door opened. Andrew immediately recognized both voices -- Father Ignatius and Tammy, Sister Mary, came into the vestry.

"It's been a while" Andrew heard the Priest say "I've missed our little meetings"

"Yes, Father" the Nun replied, in a soft and submissive tone "but I'm ready to submit to your punishment for going away"

Andrew saw the old Priest move the Bishop's Throne to the center of the room. The Bishop's Throne was a large heavy oak chair used to seat visiting ecclesiastical dignitaries -- like when the Bishop or Arch Deacon came to officiate at the annual Confirmation service. It was hard for the old man to move the chair -- but something stopped Andrew from jumping to his feet and offering to help. He sat, transfixed on the scene unfolding on the other side of the curtain. Very quietly -- hoping not be seen or heard.

Father Ignatius removed the first of his vestments, and threw the green chasuble onto the table. Next, he removed the matching stole, and as custom demanded, he kissed the cross embroidered in the center and folding it carefully, placed it on top of the chasuble. Then he untied the girdle -- a soft white rope with tasseled ends -- he showed it to Sister Mary, who was standing quietly watch the Priest disrobe. He smiled, and her eyes fell to the floor. He placed the girdle on the oak chair.

The alb fell loose and he pulled it over his head. Crisp, white linen that rustled as it moved. And now the priest was left standing in his black cassock. Sister Mary raised her eyes and looked at the thirty-three buttons down the front. She reached to his waist, and started to unbutton those from the waist to the ground. She reached a hand inside the cassock, and determined that he was naked, at least from his waist down. The Priest took the Nun's arm and led her to the center of the room, so that she was standing facing the back of the oak Throne.

"Are you ready and willing?" he said softly "you have been a bad girl" Sister Mary nodded, but chose to say nothing.

"I asked if you were ready and willing to accept your punishment -- answer me, girl!" he said sternly.

"Yes, Father" she said quietly "I think I am ready"

Father Ignatius bent her forward over the throne. He took her right hand and placed it firmly on the right arm of the throne, then took her left hand and placed it on the left arm of the throne. He reached for the girdle, and deftly tied each wrist to the chair. No more the Nun, she was replaced by the eager slut that had been Tammy.

The priest reached to the floor and took hold of the hem of the Nun's habit. He lifted it swiftly, pulling it over her head, limiting her view of the room.

Under the habit, the priest was perhaps a little surprised to find fishnet tights, and no other underwear. Memories of Tammy's delicious ass flooded back to him -- even though it had been more than a year since his hand had last been firmly placed on those cheeks, he knew just how much she yearned for more instruction at his hand.

"How bad have you been while you have been away? Tell me!" the Priest instructed.

"Father" she replied "I have been so bad. I have had bad thoughts and I have often played with myself in the middle of the night. I have made myself cum again and again, and I have often thought of doing bad things with the other nuns." Before the words were out of her mouth, she felt his hand plant firmly on her ass. It took a moment for the sensation to reach her brain -- but instinctively she bit her lip in order to stifle the desire to cry out. A second strike quickly followed the first, and she could not contain herself.

"Father" she cried "I've been so bad. I'm sorry"

"Did I ask you to speak?" the Priest responded "Speak only when spoken to!"

"Yes, Father"

Further spanking continued. The white globes of her ass started to glow pink. The sounds of a bare hand on a barely clad ass filled the room. And Andrew had forgotten about the silver, forgotten about the bike ride, forgotten about fishing. He had never seen anything quite like this.

The priest was tiring -- his strokes were slowing and it was clear that his hand was beginning to feel the effects of his efforts. He allowed his hand to caress the glowing cheeks. He reached between her legs and could feel that her cunt was exuding juices that were a measure of her delight.

"Have you been sufficiently punished for your sins, my child?" he asked.

"No, Father, I haven't. I have been so bad"

I had been hanging on the wall of the vestry for several years and a silent witness to so many things that had occurred in that room. Father Ignatius had brought me back from a trip to Jerusalem. I had been hand made from ancient olive wood by a local craftsman. The figure of Christ was cast in bronze, which had developed a hue while I hung there.

Suddenly, the Priest reached up and lifted me from my nail. Before I realized his intention, I found myself the most unlikely of paddles. Who uses a crucifix as a paddle? An elderly priest spanking a young novice nun perhaps?

Tammy squealed each time my substance met her flesh. She tried to be silent, but my broad arms and the added weight of the cast figure made it very difficult. The pinkness soon became a reddening.

The old Priest took hold of the waist of the fishnet tights, and pulled them down. He ran his finger down the crack between her cheeks until he found her moist pussy. His other hand went into the opening of his unbuttoned cassock and took hold of his now erect member.

"You want this in you?" he demanded

"I do, Father, I do" came the reply.

Andrew took his chance and slipped out of the side door of the vestry, hoping that both Priest and Nun were so engrossed in each other's pleasure that his movement would be undetected. Andrew sat outside in the July sun thinking about his recent experience. A short while later, he saw Sister Mary leaving by the main church door, and heading down the path. She paused momentarily to straighten her habit and adjust her veil.

Father Ignatius was about to leave too when he noticed that the vestry door was open. He looked out and saw that Andrew was still sitting on one of the tombstones in the Churchyard. He walked over and sat next to Andrew.

Andrew wasn't sure how to begin a conversation. "It's my birthday today" he stammered "I'm thirteen, you know"

"How long have you been out here?" asked the Priest.

"Since I finished my chores" lied the altar boy "I was wondering whether to go fishing or take a bike ride somewhere"

"I have something for you, come with me" said the Priest.

The two returned to the Vestry, and the Priest handed me to the boy.

"I think that it is time for you to give this crucifix a home" he said "I carried it back from the Holy Land but it needs a new place now. Will you care for it like I have?"

Andrew took me in his hands and noted my odor -- I smelled of Tammy -- Andrew liked that.

"Take it home" said the Priest "It will remind you of the day you became a teenager -- the first step to becoming a man. Remember, you can always come to me if you have any questions about manhood"

Andrew walked home, carefully carrying me. He placed me on a nail on the wall across from the end of his bed.

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It's been thirty seven years since that old Priest gave me that crucifix. I have not seen him for years and I am sure that he has probably gone to meet his Maker. Tammy, Sister Mary, went back to the convent but I later heard that she had not completed the novitiate period and had gone to live overseas.

That morning in the vestry came to mind many times through my teenage years, as I pleasured myself while remembering Tammy's quivering flesh receiving a paddling with my crucifix.

As I became old enough to embark on my own sexual adventures, a good spanking became a regular part of my interaction with the subbie women that crossed my path.

Now fifty, single, and still clinging to that last object that did so much to form my adult sexual interests, I wonder if I will ever have the balls to take it down from the wall and use it as the Priest did on that memorable birthday?