"Oh, heck !" she muttered between her perfect teeth. Why did the office have to be on the first flipping floor ? Climbing Mount Everest would be easier AND less painful.
Best get on.
Best get on.
Dolly looked up from her desk as the door to the office opened and in walked, rather stiffly the youngest member of the Agency.
Catherine Turner had barely turned eighteen when she had presented herself with the nine other ladies for the interview.
Even Molly was surprised at the young looking woman. "Are you sure you're eighteen?" she had asked.
"Cross my heart Miss Malone." she had replied with wide eyed innocence. As things turned out, Cathy Turner was a seasoned pro of the red bummed brigade.
Dolly smiled with amusement at the memory. She got to her feet and came around her desk as the younger woman stood in the middle of the floor with an "I'm in agony.!!" grimace on her screwed up face. Dolly wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.
"Sweetheart, are you alright?"
Cathy nodded. "Ooooh Dolly, I would be if I had someone else's bum...cor mine doesn't half sting!" she whistled in reply.
Dolly laughed. "Rather you than me flower. Here sit yourself down and I'll make us a nice cup of tea, hmmm"
Cathy shook her head, her red shoulder length hair flying. "Sit, you must be joking Dolly!!" she grunted, wobbling stiffly to the small couch in the corner. "Not with the state of my arse, ....bloody cane!!"
Dolly smiled at her friends childish petulance. All show of course. Dolly knew all about Miss Turner's little quirks and kinks."Well dear, you did say you liked to take a caning didn't you hmmm?"
Cathy turned and slowly settled her bum on the soft seat. "OW. Flipping OW, I bet that silly bugger has drawn blood, I tell you Dolly he didn't half lay into my arse. OW hmmmmm, ahhh, that's better. Just throbbing a bit now."
Dolly giggled at the comical sight of the jack-in-the-box easing her arse down on the padded couch like an aeroplane having a bumpy landing. Serves her right!! Dolly poured them both a hot cup of tea and brought it over to where Cathy sat still wincing at the sting. "So, come on then, tell your Auntie Dolly all about it, I want every juicy detail mind." grinned Dolly over the rim of her cup.
Cathy reached forward and picked up her cup from the coffee-table. "Nosey," she smiled, but continued on. "Well I guess it went like this......"
"He wants a WHAT?"
Molly had smiled at the befuddled young woman. She nodded. "That's what he wants Cathy."
Cathy, still a little shocked spread her arms wide in helpless amusement. "But...but a.a.a...NUN?"
Molly shrugged as Dolly came in with the details.
"What sort of kinky bugger would want to cane a nun?"
Dolly looked at the customers request. "Sez here...requirements, personal preferences Caning. Wants to role-play as well with a younger girl dressed as a nun. See, there you go."
"Our's is not the reason to ask why. Our's is the reason to supply." smiled Molly.
Cathy stuck out her bottom lip. "Suppose so, what's his name?"
Dolly checked. "Butterworth, a Mr Derek Butterworth, aged fifty-two lives just off Station road so its not far to travel."
"Hmmm, suppose I could. But a real proper caning!" thought Cathy, feeling that familiar tingle and those little goose bumps beginning to rise. "Alright, I'm game, I'll take this 'un." she sighed.
Molly clapped her hands. "Good girl, the appointments for any time this afternoon," she turned to her secretary. "Go and fetch the cane Dolly, better make it the thin, whippy one."
Five minutes later, Cathy Turner was about to leave carrying her extra special little bundle curled in her shopping bag.
"By the way Cathy." called Molly.
Cathy stopped, holding the office door open.
Molly eased herself down to perch her rather fine bum on the edge of the desk. "Did Dolly tell you that he's a priest." she grinned.
A little while later...
Sister Catherine knocked on the white door to the study.
Then a muffled "come in".
Taking a deep breath, she clicked open the door and went inside for her punishment.
Father Butterworth was a big bear of a man with a huge bald dome and a white bushy moustache and whiskers.
"He looks a bit like Captain Birdseye!" gulped Cathy in surprise when he had first opened the door. Mr Fish-Fingers the caner. He'd invited her in and they'd sat and had a bit of a chat over a cup of tea and chocolate biscuit. As she relaxed, she found herself liking the man with his limpid blue eyes. He seemed kind, sincere and was ever so polite. "Why on earth does he want to cane my bum?" she wondered.
One thing Cathy Turner was not and that was slow in coming forward. "So Mr...er Father..er," she began, before she ran out of steam.
He smiled and patted her hand. "Just call me Derek for now....until we play our little game."
Oh. Right. Little game. She felt her bum cheeks clench in nervous anticipation as they always did whenever the cane was about to pay a visit. "Okey-dokey, Derek, wh..why er a nun?" she lisped in a hurry, feeling herself blush at her inane question.
"Ahhh!" he sighed sitting back on his leather settee. He reached up to pull his beard, the skin around his eyes crinkling merrily as he considered her question. Why indeed. "Well my dear, its because a long time ago, in a place far, far away...."
Cathy couldn't stop scratching. Itchy. The nun's costume was so flipping itchy. As for the plain, white, split-bottomed bloomers. Gawd. She stood fidgeting before the Father's desk.
Father Butterworth was sitting forward with both elbows resting on the mahogany wood and his face was cupped in his huge hands contemplating the rather tasty morsel before him. Dressed to perfection, she WAS absolutely perfect. Her fiery red hair was hidden beneath her black cowl and her frumpy gown was exactly as he remembered from his time long ago when he was brought up by the Sisters of Oxford. He frowned at the memory, his bushy white brows meeting in the middle of his forehead to resemble an hairy albino caterpillar.
Memories of his childhood as an orphan.
Painful memories of Sister Mary and her willow.
Staring at the young girl from the Agency, he knew that she wasn't Sister Mary but dressed as she was it was close enough. Payback time for the Sisters of Mercy. With a deep sigh, he sat back. "So Sister Catherine, I hear you've been in trouble again?"
Cathy looked up while fiddling with the tassel which hung around her middle. She shook her head. "Who me Father?" she gulped. "No Father not me."
He drummed his fingers on the desk. "That's not what I heard Sister, Mother Anna was very explicit in relation to your conduct." he rumbled.
Cathy felt herself going weak at the knee's. She always did when her submissive character began to emerge. "Mother Anna?" Father Butterworth got to his feet and came around his desk, sitting his rather intimidating frame on the edge. Cathy took an involuntary step back. "Bloody hell, he's going to whip my arse raw is this bugger!" she shivered inside. Now that she knew why he wanted to cane her, a quiet acceptance had overcome her.
He was purging his soul.
"Father, no, no...NOO!!!!" she cried as she felt him reach down to lift her habit as she leaned over his desk.
"Quiet girl. I said a caning on the bare you deserve and a caning on the bare you are going to get.!!" he scolded her.
She turned back to face away from him as he gathered the cloth and hauled it up and over her back leaving her downstairs dressed only in her wafer thin bloomers. "I'm...I'm soooorrrrrrrrryyyyy Father, I didn't mean to call Sister Wendy a frustrated old hag...really I didn't" she whimpered.
Father Butterworth stepped back contemplating the girl whose legs wouldn't stop dancing. He glanced to the heavens. "Forgive me Lord for I am about to commit a sin."
A draft of cold air made Cathy shiver as it whistled through the gap of her gaping open underwear.
Father Butterworth, with a deft hand had undone the seat buttons and spread wide the cloth to reveal her rather plump, beautiful and alabaster bottom. He stuck his finger in his dog collar, letting some of the steam out. This young madam had a very sculptured bum. Nice and big and white. He rubbed his jaw. A fat bum.
Fat bum's can take a hard caning without to much fuss. He glanced up as his ornate timepiece chimed three bells. Best get a move on. "Did you bring the stick Sister Catherine?"
He watched her hooded head nod.
"M..my bag, its in my bag." came a whispered reply.
A fine specimen. Long, thin and very bendy. Just the thing for dealing out a thorough punishment to naughty nubile nun's. With a swish, he lashed it through the air.
Cathy, hearing the oh-so familiar sound of a singing cane gave a little shriek.
He turned to her and removed his black jacket. "Now my girl, this will teach you not to go around calling Sister Wendy an ugly old hag....even if she is." he smiled, rolling up his right shirt sleeve.
"But, but...but I DIDN'T Father!!" she squeaked. Urp. Confession time was over.
With surprising grace, he danced to her left side and with one swift backward motion and a "Twelve Sister Catherine...count them all or you'll get more!!" He laid in the first cut of the cane.
The thin bamboo sank deep into her hindquarters driving her up on tippy-toe as the wood drew its fiery, poker-hot line across both of her fat arse cheeks. "YYYYYYYEEEEEEOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW"Cathy bent upwards on rigid arms as she waggled and wobbled her bum trying to run away from the awful sting. She nearly forgot to count but remembered just in time."OOoooooh OOOOONNNEEEE Father." she whistled through clenched teeth. She dropped her head and stared at her mahogany reflection in the table-top. "Flipping heck that fucking hurt!!" she writhed inside. Her bum had started its dance and wouldn't stop for a whole bloody week until the weal's faded and the bruises had disappeared.
She had barely recovered from the first delivery when "AAAAggggghhhhhh..T...T..TWWO Fathaaaagh." She shook her head, feeling the sweat running down her back. "Jezzuuus H. Christ. My poor bum!!" sang her mind. Even after only two cuts of the cane, her whole backside felt as if it was on fire. They must have really given him some stick when he was little. Now he was getting his own back - via her bum in a roundabout sort of way.
"Why the hell do I love the cane so much?" she muttered to herself.
Father Butterworth was mightily impressed with this young lady's stoicism.She had endured eleven hard strokes of the worst type of caning and still lay over his desk. Only one more to go.
He intended for this last one to ease his mind and soul, to bury those nights when he had lain awake with the other boys in the dormitory listening as the Sisters metered out their summary justice to one of their own. He had snuck out once along the hall to the strange sounds echoing in the night.
Peeking through the key-hole, he had gasped at the candle-lit sight of naked women.
Deriving pleasure from the pain of the willow.
He shook his head. Twas a long time ago, far, far way. He looked down at the weeping girl. Not a Sister. Ever since he had spied in on the scenes of flagellation and female loving, the urge to punish one of them had nagged at him over his advancing years. He thought his dark, secret fantasy would never be fulfilled. Until the moment he had been clearing away some rubbish left lying behind his church.
It had been folded in one of the split bags. At first he was shocked, but then his eyes fell on the woman who was on the front cover. In her hand was a crook handled cane.
It was a torn issue of Adult Monthly News........dated the 23rd.
Sister Catherine turned her head and looked at the man of God.
"L...last one F..Father?" she asked as her tears began to fall.
He nodded. "Last one Catherine." he smiled.
She started to turn and prepare when he spoke.
She glanced back over her shoulder.
Cathy picked up her cup and took another sip, her mouth dry from telling the story of her visit with Father Butterworth.
Dolly shook her head. "That's so...wonderful what you did, you must have really helped him get over what happened to him when he was a boy." She reached over and hugged the younger woman.
At that moment Molly walked in from her office. "So...we seem to have another satisfied customer on our books. Just had a call." she smiled.
Cathy looked up. "Oh...Father Butterworth?" she asked.
"Thanking the Agency for their good deed."
Cathy got up. "I'm glad he's happy, he was ever so nice to me. He even rubbed cream on my sore bum." she winced, picking up her coat and making to leave.
Molly and Dolly stood watching as she buttoned up her coat. Molly shook her head. "At least with him, you didn't have to provide our extra special service!" she laughed.
Cathy turned and pressed a finger to her lips. "Ur, well....." she stuttered, her pretty face blushing brightly.
Molly was shocked. "You mean?"
Dolly was stunned. "But...but he's..he's a..... you know!!"
Cathy licked her lips.
The bemused duo, as if on cue gasped.
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