Chapter 6: Sins Of The Flesh

Then it was Heather herself who suggested that some tuition in singing techniques would not come amiss. She had realised that she actually had a good voice, and that money could be made as a singer; furthermore, a trained voice would be more saleable than an untrained one.

It was some weeks into the singing lessons when Father Reilly's self restraint finally snapped.

"There's something wrong here," he commented, "You are not breathing at the right times in the song."

"I can't just keep on singing without breathing," she pointed out.

"Don't be pert with me, miss," Father Reilly admonished, "You will have to take off your top so that I can check your breathing," continued the priest, keeping his voice as matter-of-fact as he could.

Heather looked very uncertain, but he simply reached out and started to unbutton her blouse.

He was not disappointed; as he opened her upper garment it revealed small firm breasts, pert and cheeky nipples which were quickly hardening in the cold air, and huge pale pink areolae. Heather was obviously worried by this, but she reasoned that as a priest he would not do anything wrong. In fact the sight of her bare breasts was both a pleasure and a torment to the young man. He did not touch her, but contented himself with the vision of perfect breasts which her singing half naked gave him.

After this first time Father Reilly kept his desires in check for many weeks, only demanding that she strip a very few times. As these occasions multiplied Heather became accustomed to being partly naked before him and would instantly strip off her blouse whenever he asked.

It was because Father Reilly lost his temper with her that they moved on to further intimacies. He had asked her to learn a Mozart's Ave Verum Corpus at home, so that they could start to rehearse it ready for the Easter services. When she came for her private lesson she was not ready; she had simply not managed to find the time to learn it.

"What punishment do they use at school for disobedient children who have not done their homework properly?" the priest asked sternly, knowing full well the answer.

She paused for a moment before answering very quietly, "The cane, Father."

"Speak up!" he snapped.

"The cane, Father," she repeated, only a little louder.

"Then I shall do the same," he decided, suppressing his excitement as best he could.

"But I'm not a school child any more, Father. I'm eighteen years old and a grown woman."

The priest was unmoved by this argument.

"Remove your underwear."

She didn't move.

"Come on," he snapped, "Caning is always on the bare bottom, isn't it?"

"I don't ... don't know," she started sobbing quietly, "I was never caned."

"Well it is," he declared, "or are you going to argue about that as well?"

Very reluctantly she lifted her skirt and gripped the waist band of her underwear. As her knickers were slowly, and very reluctantly pushed down her long pale thighs a sweet little mound covered in silky dark hair came into view.

"There, that wasn't too hard was it?" he said as he led her to the sofa, "Bend over the arm of that chair and it will soon be over," he ordered, and after a small hesitation she lay as instructed.

"Lift your skirt," he ordered.

Slowly and very reluctantly she bared her behind to his view.

Father Reilly contemplated the soft curved white buttocks for a moment, and then struck them with his cane. He had to restrain himself from hitting her anything like as hard as he would have liked, but she was unused to physical punishment and burst into tears. This presented the opportunity he had hoped for and he took the beautiful naked body into his arms and comforted her. Heather was so shaken by the pain in her bottom that she didn't notice the hands stroking her hair, her back, her buttocks, and as she collected her thoughts and rose to dress herself, trailing across her breasts.

After she had gathered herself together and adjusted her dress, Father Reilly said, "Now, go home and learn the piece properly. I'm sure someone in your household can play the piano?"

"Yes, Father. My mother plays."

"Well, ask her to accompany you as you practice it. And if I were you, I wouldn't mention the punishment, or you will be in trouble at home as well," he admonished.

"Yes, Father," said Heather meekly, knowing full well that if she mentioned being in any kind of disfavour at church she would certainly be punished at home as well, for disgracing the family.

As she walked home she could not fathom why she felt so happy, in spite of the pain in her rear end. In truth, she was just happy to be noticed for herself, and not merely taken for granted as a useful pair of hands in a household which had seven children in it, ranging from her own eighteen years down to little Jamie who was four.

Much to the priest's surprise Heather arrived promptly the following week for her next lesson, and was note perfect on the Mozart. More perplexing was that she knocked the music stand over several times, and Father Reilly could have sworn it was deliberate on at least one occasion. The third time she rose from collecting the sheets of music from the floor she moved to stand in front of the Priest with her head hanging in shame.

"I'm sorry, Father, and ... and ... and..." her voice tailed off.

"And what?" snapped the Priest, hardly daring to hope.

"And ... and I expect you will punish me again for my clumsiness," she mumbled, quickly adding, "But only smacks, not the cane, please Father. I wasn't bad enough for the cane. I learnt my music, didn't I?"

"Over my knee, if you please," he said, and was surprised at the alacrity with which she moved to the prescribed position.

Settling herself comfortably across his knee, she asked, "Do I raise my skirts, Father?"

"If you please."

SMACK.

His hand descended on the knicker-covered arse cheek further from his body, eliciting a small squeak and a wriggle from the pupil. Father Reilly was somewhat embarrassed that his prick enjoyed the pressure of the wriggling young woman on his lip.