REDEMPTION Using the sins of Pride and Lust. She stood before his desk, dressed in the standard uniform of the school: a navy, pleated skirt, ending just above her knees, matching socks pulled up high, plain brown shoes, a crisp white blouse with a small tie down the front. Isabelle looked at the man in front of her. He had not looked up since she knocked on the opened door and announced her presence. He had simply motioned her to come in and close the door behind her, and she had hastily complied. Finally, Father Rick sat back in his chair, his gaze firm and unrelenting as he looked at the young woman who stood before him. Isabelle met his eyes, as she licked her lips nervously. Some would say he looked severe in his black suit and white collar, but not her. He looked so handsome to her. His voice brought her quickly out of her musings. "Do you have any idea why you're here in my office, Isabelle?" She anxiously shifted from foot to foot. Isabelle really did not know why she was here. She was a straight A student, top of her class. To be called into the Dean of Students' office was not a good thing. Usually Father Rick only dealt with the 'troubled' ones. "N-n-no, Sir. I do not." He stood up and walked around the desk to stand directly in front of her. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. She could sense the power beneath that suit. His muscles almost seemed to coil as if at any moment he would pounce. Isabelle felt a rush of heat in her body. Confused, not understanding its meaning, she lowered her head, unable to look at him. "I have been hearing some disturbing things about you, Isabelle," Father Rick said coolly. When she did not answer immediately, he continued, "Take off your underwear and hand it to me." Startled she looked up at him. She must have misunderstood. "I'm sorry, I thought you said..." "You heard me correctly. Do it." It was a command, not a request. Still, she hesitated. It was not proper for a young woman to be without her undergarments. He could not really mean... "Now." His tone was like a flick of a whip, harshly cutting through the otherwise silent room. Without another thought, she carefully reached up her skirt, leaving it as long as possible to cover her body, as she pulled down the cotton cloth panties and held it out for him. Without a word he took it and examined the inside. His fingers touched the crotch lining, and then rubbed them together under his nose, inhaling deeply. A frown marred his face. "It's wet." She didn't understand. Sometimes that happened. In fact, she could feel it happening now, as she shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Stop fidgeting and be still, Isabelle." He waited until she complied before continuing. "This is a very serious matter. Do you remember the seven deadly sins?" "Of course, Sir," Isabelle replied, her confidence somewhat restored. This she could do. "Greed, pride, sloth, gluttony, envy, wrath, and lust," she rhymed off automatically. "Ah, yes. Lust. You are lusting after someone, Isabelle. Your damp panties prove it." He looked at her thoughtfully, calculatingly even. Her face flushed a dull red. She shook her head in denial. He must not ever know. SLAM! Father Rick's hand smacked down on the desk. "Lying is also a sin, Isabelle." Her lower lip started to tremble, as she looked at his thunderous expression. "I am your priest, and it is about time you confessed your sins. Lust is one of the most serious of the sins, and easily seduces weak willed people. It must be confronted, and you must conquer it in order to secure your place in Heaven. It is wrong to lust after anyone." Isabelle's brain scrambled as she tried to divert him from his path. "What of when I marry? Is it wrong to lust after my husband after we are wed as well?" "Yes, Isabelle," Father Rick replied with confidence. "Even him. Lust is dangerous in all its forms. When the day comes you are wed, you will perform your wifely duties, only on the days sanctioned by the church. You will do so because you have to. Not because you want to. And most certainly not because you like it. Sex is not something that should be enjoyed. It is a matter of procreation only. To bring more people under our Lord's protection and guidance." "But, you are evading the issue at hand, Isabelle." Leaving her panties on his desk, he closed the distance between them; his hand gripped her upper arms tightly. She thought he was going to shake her, but instead he just eased her closer to him, so that her body was almost touching his. "Who is it you are lusting after?" She could not look at him. She knew she would disappoint him terribly. She strived to be perfect in the eyes of the Lord. Or maybe it was Father Rick's whom she was trying to impress. Either way, she had failed. She could feel the heat of his body and felt her breasts start to tingle. It was so strange to her, to be feeling like this. The bra she was wearing suddenly felt so tight, constricting her chest. It was distracting her, clouding her mind. Father Rick's thumbs gently stroked her forearms. "Your thoughts are confused, Isabelle. You need my guidance. Do not hide from me. Let me help you." "It is you." Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it seemed loud and harsh to her ears. Immediately Father Rick released her and took a step away. She looked up in alarm at loss of his touch, a small whimper escaping her lips. Father Rick looked at her, his expression veiled, as he sat on the edge of his desk. "To lust is a great sin, but to lust after a man of the cloth who has devoted himself to serving God...that, Isabelle, is a sin which will send you straight to the gates of Hell itself." Terrified, Isabelle took a step forward, her body trembling. "Please, you have to help me!" she begged him. She did not want to go to Hell. "I did not mean for it to happen. I try not to think about you like that..." "And yet you do." His words mocked her. Had she really tried? Would she spend all eternity burning in unimaginable pain just because she had wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him? She blinked rapidly, a single tear falling down her cheek. "Please...Father. You have to help me." Father Rick looked at her, his eyes filled with pity. "I try to help all of the children of God. But you must be willing to repent. You must be willing to do whatever I tell you to do to for penance. But first, and most importantly, we must assess how far this lust goes and vanquish it from your body. Can you do that for me, Isabelle?" Tears were flowing openly and freely down her face now. "Yes, Father. Anything. I will do anything." "Good. First I need to examine the extent of problem. Take off your clothes, Isabelle. All of them." Her first thought was to protest again. She had never stood naked before a man before. Never had she let one see her body and the secrets that she kept hidden between her legs. "But I thought that only my husband..." He cut her off. "You need to trust me, Isabelle. I am a follower of God. I only have your best interests at heart. I am only doing this for your own good." When she still hesitated he continued, "Of course, if you'd rather go to Hell...." "No!" Her whole being protested at the thought. So she reached down and took off her socks and shoes. Her hands moved to her skirt, but then she remembered the lack of underwear and instead moved to her blouse. Not that it would really matter, she was only delaying the inevitable. But the sense of shame filled her at the thought of baring herself for another, caused her to procrastinate. Her fingers shook as she slowly undid her buttons. One at a time her creamy flesh was exposed to his gaze. She glanced up at him, but his expression was unreadable. Again, stalling for time, she folded her blouse neatly and laid it on a chair. She turned her back to him, as she fumbled with her bra. The cool air hit her breasts and the tingling sensations increased. Isabelle looked down to watch in mortification as her nipples hardened. No, that shouldn't be happening. She was sure of it. A red-hot stab of shame flooded her being. Father Rick was right. She did need help. All that was left was her skirt. The zipper rasped loudly, as she pulled it down. It was about half way when it suddenly got stuck. She tugged harder on it, but it did not budge. Frustrated, she started to yank at the fabric. A pair of strong, warm hands closed around her hips, stilling her movements. Isabelle forgot to breathe. For a moment time stood still, as the heat of his hands warmed her body far more than anything else ever had. "Let me help you." His voice sounded deeper to her ears, husky almost. Was he talking about her zipper? Or the growing feelings inside her that she did not fully understand? She did not move a muscle, as she felt her skirt leave her body. She felt somehow detached, as if she were dreaming and this was not real. Automatically she stepped out of the garment, leaving her completely naked. She simply stood there, waiting. For what, she was not sure. All too soon Father Rick stepped out from behind her and was in front of her again. Immediately, her eyes widened as they flew to his hand. She knew that ruler. It had only been once, long ago, when she was a little girl and had snuck into the kitchen to take a cookie. Isabelle knew that it was wrong, but the cookies were so yummy, and she was sure no one would miss one. However, she had been caught and brought before Father Rick. He had spanked her mercilessly with that flexible piece of plastic until she had sobbed uncontrollably and swore that she would never, ever steal again. Isabelle dropped her head, her face flaming. Would he spank her again? Her body quivered at the thought. She had not thought of that incident in years, but suddenly it seemed very important, although the full significance of it she could not fathom. As she looked down, her gaze fell upon her erect nipples, causing a deeper shade of red to grace her cheeks. She saw the ruler, the short end of it coming slowly up under her left nipple, lifting it slightly. "Do you think this is proper?" Father Rick's voice was gentle, as if explaining some valuable piece of information to a small child. Isabelle's throat closed tightly, making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. So she simply shook her head. "It is a sign of your lust, Isabelle. Something which must be purged." Without warning, the ruler sliced through the air, the flat side landing firmly across her breast and nipple, eliciting a scream of pain from Isabelle. She took a step back, away from her tormentor, her chest aching painfully. "Do not retreat from me, girl," his voice was harsh now. She could sense the anger in him. "Face your fate and purge your sins." She let out a soft cry, as the ruler smacked across her sensitive peak again, but this time she did not back away. However, he seemed not to be pleased with her earlier transgression, for he repeatedly hit her over and over again, both breasts glowing red from the blows. Isabelle withstood the pain as long as she could, until finally she started to sob. She desperately wanted to beg him to stop but knew it would do no good. Father Rick had a reputation for being unrelenting. It was only as she started to shake that the ruler ebbed, and finally stopped. The girl could not look at him. She only hoped that he had finished what needed to be done, and she could leave. Never had she felt so humiliated in her entire life. She only wanted to run and hide. A pair of warm hands on her shoulder soothed her. "You are doing well, Isabelle." Those hands steered her, and she moved with them, not knowing where she was going and not caring. His fingers caressed her gently as he lead her, and she felt a warmth seep through her body once more. "Lie down on the table, Isabelle. I need to examine you, to see if this is working or if you are in need of more aid." She looked down at the glass coffee table in front of her. It was not long enough for her entire body and just wide enough to fit her from shoulder to shoulder. Without hesitation she laid down, feeling the coolness of the glass beneath her back and buttocks. She stared unseeingly at the ceiling above her, hoping this would soon be over, and she could leave. Her legs were pressed tightly together, the table supporting her head to the back of her knees. Her feet were touch the thin area rug on the floor, but it offered no warmth. Isabelle could hear some movement behind her but dared not look. She did not want to upset him further. Then Father Rick was above her, looking down, smiling kindly. She watched as he pulled the latex gloves over his fingers. She chewed her lower lip nervously. "Why are you wearing gloves?" Her voice was little more than a squeak, but she needed to know. The urge to get up and run out of the office, regardless of the fact she was naked, was strong. It took all her will to fight the panic inside her. "I am a priest of God. I cannot touch you with my flesh. That would be a sin, Isabelle." She nodded as if that made all the sense in the world, as he continued, "I am just going to have a quick look, and if all is well, you can leave. I will have completed the will of God and succeeded in my task to bring you back into His good graces." She lifted her head and watched, as the priest moved down to the other end of the table, kneeling in front of her legs. Isabelle pressed them more firmly together, suddenly very, very afraid. He only smiled at her. "Trust me, Isabelle. I am a man of integrity. A servant of God. I have helped countless girls just like you, and they have been better for it. I know what I am doing." Isabelle's heart started to race, as she felt his hands on her knees, slowly pushing them apart. She could not look; she simply could not. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping that it would soon be over. She tried to pretend she was somewhere else; that it wasn't happening to her. A beach. Yes, a nice warm beach, with the sun shining brightly down on her body. She could feel the cool air hit the hidden folds of her skin, made all the more potent by the wetness which had collected there. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her hands fisted forcefully at her sides, as she tried to still the nervous trembling in her legs. It would be over soon. "Isabelle," his voice whispered in her ear, making her practically jump. She had not realized he had moved, but Father Rick was now kneeling beside her head. Still not having found her voice, she only opened her eyes and looked at him. "You have grown considerably since the last time you were in my office. You have hair down there now," he gestured ever so slightly with his head in the direction of her hips, "and I cannot see. I will need to shave it off so that I may ascertain what is happening." "You have to...to.... shave?" Isabelle was shocked to the core. She could not believe it was happening. "But...but...." The other girls in the school would see. Their washing area was simply a collection of showerheads together in one large room. There was no privacy. They would ask what had happened. What would she tell them? Her face turned beet red. "There must be another way." She clutched his suit jacket in her hand, crushing the delicate garment in her fist. She knew she should not be touching him at all; it was forbidden. "Please...I will do anything you ask of me, but please, not that. Anything, Father." She couldn't let the other girls know her shameful secret. She could not let them know about the lust inside her, the sins that haunted her. She was an outstanding student. Others looked up to her. "Please," she begged him, her eyes pleading with him to have mercy. "It is the only way." His words sapped the strength out of her, as she let go of his jacket, her arm falling lifelessly across her chest. She winced as it made contact with her sore, aching breasts, and immediately let it roll off onto her abdomen. It was the only way. The only way. Only. A tear escaped, rolling silently down her cheek, as she nodded and looked up at the ceiling. His face came into her view, his eyes dark with something she had never seen before in them. "All will be well. You will see." He bent and gave a swift kiss to her forehead, before straightening and walking away from her. She could hear him rummaging around in his desk as he spoke. "I will need to bind you for this procedure, for your own good, Isabelle. I would hate for you to become agitated at any time and move, for then I may cut you with the razor. I have found in the past that this works much better. Remember God is watching. He knows everything, and He will know that you are trying, and He will forgive you for your past sins, Isabelle. Your place in Heaven is not yet lost. I can restore it, if you try, and you listen to me." He soon returned and knelt once more between her legs. For a moment he just surveyed the two heavy wing back chairs which were on either side of the table. Normally they were used for a private conference between two people. The table which she now way laying on was used to put papers and such things. Isabelle tried to picture how it would look in a normal setting, not with her displayed so prominently. It helped to calm her frazzled nerves. Her musings were interrupted as Father Rick took a hold of her knees once more, and slid her to the edge of the table, so her buttocks just slightly hung off the edge. He took hold of first one ankle, wrapping a rope around it and stretching it as far open as he could before adjusting the chair so that it stood beside the coffee table as he desired, and fastened the other end of the rope to it. Father Rick repeated the process on the other side. Through it all, Isabelle gazed at the ceiling. Never had she felt so utterly exposed in her life. She had never let another look at the hidden treasure between her legs. She kept that secret, a place for her future husband to one day explore. To be lying here like this, vulgarly displayed humiliated her as nothing else could have. She thought this was the worst. She was wrong. When he was finished with her legs, he came to stand at her head once more. "Give me your wrists, Isabelle." She looked up at him, confused. "But why? Surely my legs are enough. I..." "And if you become weak and try to stop me from my appointed task? You may attempt to sit up and thwart my purpose. I will save you, Isabelle, especially since it is clear that you cannot save yourself. You cannot be trusted in this. You have failed so utterly in the past." His voice was harsh and unforgiving, accusing her of the sins which she had committed. Without another word, she raised her hands to him, lacing her fingers together. "Good girl. You will see. I will rescue you from the gates of Hell." He reached over and picked up her tie, which was lying on top of her pile of clothes. Deftly, he wrapped it several times around her wrists and secured it to one of the table legs beneath her. "You will thank me for this one day, Isabelle." She was too stunned to say anything. It still felt so unreal. Like it was happening to someone else, and she was simply watching. Isabelle tugged on all her bonds, but found that Father Rick had done an excellent job, and she could not move at all. She saw the scissors in his hand, and for a moment felt a surge of panic. He was not intending to cut her, was he? That was not how one purged sins, was it? She opened her mouth to speak, when he held some of her hair in one hand, and cut it as short as possible with the other. Letting out a sigh of relief, Isabelle relaxed a little, feeling the knots in her stomach uncoil. She found herself drifting almost peacefully, letting him go about his work. This was not so bad. Until the unexpected coldness touched her. Instinctively she pulled against the bonds, more in shock than an attempt to escape. Father Rick made a tisking sound, which Isabelle knew was an 'I told you so.' He ignored her attempts at moving and concentrated on the task ahead of him, rubbing the shaving cream into her skin. A shiver ran down her spine as he touched her labia, working up a nice latter. Her breathing quickened. A vague thought that he should not be touching her so entered her mind. But he was wearing gloves. It was like going to the doctor. This was just a necessary procedure that needed to be done. Only...it seemed to be taking an awfully long time. She could feel a heat spread through her body, and Isabelle felt ashamed again. She really was a sinner, for she should not be enjoying his touch. He said not a word, as he intently went about his business, his goal the only thing in his mind. The razor was sharp, and glided easily over her tender skin. He was careful not to nick her, his strokes firm and smooth, full of confidence, as if he had done this many times before. Eventually he seemed satisfied with his work and took a soft towel to her, firmly wiping off the shaving cream. She saw him pick up a second towel, and he started to rub it over her skin again. This time it was gentle, lightly caressing her flesh. Isabelle sucked in a breath, suddenly unable to move even if she wanted to, as a delightful tingle spread over her body. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking at Father Rick. He was watching her intently. Her cheeks flamed again. He knew. He knew she was enjoying it. He removed the towel, his gaze dropping from her face to the mound that was now open, exposed to him. A shudder of fear ran through Isabelle. She felt so helpless, so vulnerable. Shame washed through her. She should never have contemplated naughty thoughts of Father Rick. She should never have wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. She was bad. Oh so bad. And she deserved this humiliation. This degradation: to be shaven and bared to a man's eyes. But especially this man. This holy man. Isabelle let her head drop back on the table and willed it to be over. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed. She prayed she would pass this test, be able to simply get up, and leave as soon as possible. She prayed no one else would see her like this. She prayed the ground would just open up and swallow her into its dark abyss. Gloved fingers moved to separate her inner labia, and she heard the sharp intake of his breath. That could not be good. "You're wet, Isabelle. Do you know what that means?" She could tell from the sound of his voice that it was bad, whatever it was. Her throat tightened, and she could not answer. "I need to assess just how bad the problem is. Hold still now." For a moment Isabelle pretended she was at the doctor, as Father Rick gently eased a finger inside her. He just put it inside, not moving it at all, and she let out a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad. It was just like being examined by a physician. Then his finger moved. It was stroking the inside of her flesh, caressing the tight walls that sheathed it. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She could only feel. Her whole body began to tremble, shaking with the effort not to enjoy these strange new sensations that were coursing through her body, as his fondling continued, and he eased a second finger inside her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" His tone was accusing, but Isabelle knew there was no point in denying it. She was sure he could see straight into her soul. "Yes, Father." "It is wrong, you know. You should not like it." "I know Father, but I cannot help it." SMACK! The impact of the blow made Isabelle jump in her bonds, pulling against the ropes that held her helpless. SMACK! The ruler descended again, on her inner thigh. All the while, his fingers continued with their delicious torture. "Please...stop." She didn't know if she meant the hitting or the touching. Perhaps it was both. But at the same time, a part of her cried in protest, wanting it to never end. "I will purge you of your sins. I will save you, Isabelle." The ruler descended mercilessly, blow after blow, until both her legs were bright red. Isabelle started to sob, as the pain became more and more intense. At the same time, something strange was happening to her body. Each touch of his fingers, deep inside her, became more pronounced. It was as if she had been blind before, and now she could see. Only this was feeling. She could feel his touch, like nothing else she had ever experienced. It was exquisite. Her whole body throbbed, pulsed with life. His blows were lighter now, but it mattered not. Her reddened flesh felt it the same as if he had used all of his strength. Her hips rose, up and down, as much as the rope would allow, in time with the striking ruler. "Isabelle, Isabelle. What am I going to do with you?" His thumb moved, brushing higher, along the outside of the swollen little mound of flesh. Isabelle screamed, her womb contracting violently, clamping down on the fingers inside her. Frightened by the intensity of what she was feeling, she knew she had to make him stop. Something was happening to her, something she could not control. It scared her, more than the thought of going to Hell. "Please...you have to stop. Please, Father. PLEASE!" "I cannot. Not until you have learned your lesson." Tears flowed down her cheeks even though the ruler had stopped. Now all that existed was the movement of his fingers and that of his thumb as it traced small circles, rubbing her over and over again. Her head tossed from side to side, as she ineffectively struggled in her bonds, desperate to get away before she embarrassed herself completely. Something bad was happening. She could feel it, the tension growing inside her. The urgency for...she was not sure what. But it was there, and she needed to make it stop. "I will do anything you ask of me, Father! Just stop...please, oh, please!" His only response was to move his fingers faster, as they drew back and thrust into her tight canal. "Oh, God, help me! Please, make him stop!" "That's it, Isabelle," Father Rick encouraged. "Pray to God. Pray for him to save your soul." The throbbing had become unbearable. A warmth started in her feet and slowly made its way up her legs, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. The fire licked at her flesh, consuming all her thoughts, until there was nothing left but its heat, warming her as nothing else ever had. Her hips rose off the table, although she did not consciously remember lifting them, as a scream was torn from her lips, and she was floating. The most delicious sensations filling her body, taking over, until nothing else mattered. Not her shaven pussy, not her sins, not the thought of going to Hell, and indeed, not even the thought of Father Rick. The world ceased to exist outside of what she was feeling. Never had she felt anything more wonderful in her entire life. She did not remember being untied, or even his hands as they compassionately dressed her in her clothes. It was only as his warm body enveloped her in a hug that Isabelle seemed to come back to herself. Father Rick held her gently in his arms. "You did well, Isabelle. Now you know the temptation of evil and what to avoid. I will help you. You will come to me every Monday, and we will work on this problem together, until you can control your emotions. I will save you, Isabelle. No matter what." Shaken and drained, Isabelle only nodded. He helped her up with a smile, and set her backpack over her shoulder, leading her to the door. "You did wonderfully. It was a great first step, Isabelle. Now, go and walk with the peace of God."
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