A Strict Seduction

by Maria Del Rey

  Todd was beaming, a look of pure satisfaction on his face. He walked over and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I hear you’ve had a good day,’ he reported excitedly.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, suddenly feeling sick with guilt.

  ‘I’d say that you and Elaine have obviously got a good future with us,’ Jack told him.

  Amanda smiled. She put her arms on my shoulders and kissed me on the back of the neck. ‘We knew you would,’ she whispered.

  I swallowed hard and turned to Todd. He grinned. ‘It’s okay,’ he told me, ‘Jack says you passed with flying colours.’

  Amanda kissed me once more, on the lips this time, and her hand slipped under my dress to find that my pussy was still wet with desire.

  Training

  I had almost resigned myself to failure when I came across him sitting alone in a first class compartment. He looked up at me and smiled before I had time to fix my hair or anything, but as soon as I saw him I knew he was going to be the one. The train was rattling along, shaking from side to side as it picked up speed, making me feel a bit unsteady in my high heels. I struggled with the door to the compartment, hoping that the state of my hair and the way I was being thrown around by the train didn’t give him the wrong impression. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was drunk.

  I heaved my case into the compartment and slid the door behind me, taking one last look in the corridor and glad to find it deserted. When I turned I found him with his face stuck in a book, reading it with the kind of fixed expression that you have to really try hard to achieve. He was deliberately ignoring me, doing his best to make me disappear, and the thought of it made me shiver with excitement. I got a good look at him; blond wavy hair, powerful build, clean-shaven, quite good looking behind his glasses.

  I stepped into the carriage proper, pulling my case in with me. His baggage was in the rack above him, so I turned to the seat opposite and heaved my case up. I stretched, really pushing the case up, standing on tiptoe to get the extra leverage. The reflection in the window was perfect: my short skirt had risen up, revealing the marble white skin at the top of my thighs, the black band of my stockings, the lacy suspenders, my backside pressed out enticingly. The case seemed to be stuck, or rather I pretended it was stuck, so that I held the position for as long as possible, pushing up and down, my skirt riding higher and higher.

  He turned to look in the window. I saw his eyes scan the crystal clear reflection, travelling from my knees, up a full length of thigh, over my tight round backside, pausing at my breasts, the nipples poking against my tight red top, and finally stopping at my face. Our eyes met, and for a moment I saw the hesitation, the sheer confusion in his baby blue eyes, then he turned away. The case slid into place and I relaxed, exhaling heavily, as if the effort had worn me out.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ he said conversationally, as I sat down opposite him.

  ‘Yes, it’s lovely isn’t it,’ I agreed, flashing him the sort of cold smile that I normally reserved for Jehovah’s Witnesses or insurance salesman.

  He nodded, then stuck his nose back into his book, reading my smile the way it was intended to be read. I sat back in my seat, leaned my head back against the wall and exhaled heavily once more. My knees were crossed, and from where he sat I knew he could get an eyeful of my long stockinged legs. I was balancing my foot on the high heel, surreptitiously pulling my skirt a little higher. Sure enough, I caught him glancing up from his book, his eyes feasting on my thighs then furtively returning to the book.

  ‘You’re a priest aren’t you?’ I said suddenly, though with a dog-collar, cassock, battered leather satchel and devotional book in hand he could hardly be anything else.

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ he smiled patronisingly, giving me a ‘what do you want, bimbo’, kind of look.

  ‘You help people, don’t you, Father?’ I asked, making it sound as much like a demand as a question. My face was hard, my red lips glistening sexily, my eyes burning with a kind of fierce intensity. I was a lady with attitude, and I wanted him to know it.

  ‘Yes… yes I do. Though you don’t have to call me Father,’ he said, taking off his glasses to get a better look at me.

  ‘I want to call you Father,’ I insisted. ‘And you help anyone, right?’

  He hesitated, but I wanted an answer, I was looking straight into those lovely blue eyes and I knew that he was hooked. ‘If we can,’ he agreed, his voice slow and soft, very thoughtful, very mature. I sighed, he sounded so strong, as if he were a million years old and not some young man of flesh and blood and still not thirty years old.

  ‘Will you help me, Father?’ I asked softly, turning round slightly, so that my skirt was pulled back several inches, the stocking top completely exposed, the breeze passing through the carriage grazing the smooth skin of my thigh.

  ‘If I can,’ he agreed, his eyes homing in on my thighs. He looked up from the bare flesh and our eyes met, his face flushed red, the colour burning on his pale skin. I felt the pleasure pulse through me, but on the surface I remained calm, pretended not to notice his embarrassment, nor the fact that he couldn’t keep his eyes off my legs.

  ‘This is a sort of confession, Father,’ I started, putting my face in my hands, guiltily.

  ‘But this isn’t a confessional…’ he interrupted.

  ‘But I need this!’ I cried, looking up at him with an expression of purest pain and anguish. My eyes were already wet with tears, I saw him through a blur, looking quite alarmed.

  ‘As you wish… my child,’ he stuttered.

  Again I sighed, the excitement growing inside me, making my pussy begin to throb deliciously. ‘There’s something inside me, Father. Something that makes me think evil thoughts and do sinful things. It’s inside me Father, and I can’t help myself… Something shameless…’

  ‘I see, my child,’ he whispered, raising his eyebrows and fixing me with a look that had me squirming. ‘What sort of sinful thoughts and deeds?’

  I hid my smile by taking my head in my hands, bending low to hide my pretend shame. He was hooked, and now came the interesting bit. I uncrossed my legs, put them down straight, very modestly, side by side, but with my skirt pulled right back. He could see nearly all of my legs, he could see the white flesh of my thighs on both sides, and he was certainly enjoying the view.

  ‘Everything you can think of, Father. Not just sinful thoughts about having sex with men I know. I’m ashamed to say it, Father, but I fantasise about making love to complete strangers, to men I have never met before and will never meet again.’

  ‘I see,’ he nodded. ‘And do you act upon these sinful impulses?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ I whispered, turning away from him. I caught sight of him in the window, the dirty glass acting as a perfect mirror. He was leaning forward, listening intently, but not intently enough. ‘There are other things too, Father,’ I added, realising that boring old promiscuity was not going to do it for him.

  ‘Other things? Other sins of the flesh?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ I half sobbed. ‘Other sins of the flesh. In my mind I dream of other women, Father. I desire sexual contact with other women. I dream of lying naked in their arms, of being touched by feminine fingers, of being kissed by feminine lips. I dream these things and my body grows hot, I grow restless, unable to cope unless I touch myself. Is it wrong, Father?’

  ‘It is very wrong,’ he decided, and that made me feel even more excited. I loved being told I was doing wrong, it seemed to trigger a signal deep in my sex. I was wet, I could feel my pussy growing deliciously moist. ‘Do you act on these desires?’

  Was that it? Did the idea of two women getting off on each other ring any bells for him? ‘Yes, Father… I have made love to other women too. I know it’s wrong, I tell myself I shouldn’t but then the desire is too strong. I let myself be seduced. I enjoy the feel of another women p
utting her hand under my skirt. I enjoy her fingers stroking my thighs, of touching me everywhere. And Father, I have allowed myself to be seduced by two women together. They made love to me, sharing me… I’m so ashamed…’

  ‘Two women together?’ he repeated, his face growing red. The idea seemed to appeal to him. He was leaning closer to me, his eyes fixed on my body, hands together under his chin. He looked good enough to eat.

  ‘Yes, Father, on a number of occasions. I couldn’t help myself. I met one of them at a health club. She came up to me in the showers and began to soap my naked body. The feel of the hot water coursing down my skin and the feel of her fingers on my back soon had me aching with desire. Her fingers touched my breasts as if by accident, but then I responded, I touched her back. Soon we were making love under the jets of water, kissing, sucking, touching each other. I wanted to resist but couldn’t.’

  ‘And the other woman?’ he asked hotly, sounding rather strained. He crossed his legs, and I cursed the fact that he was wearing a cassock, I couldn’t see the size of his erection. Almost there, I told myself.

  ‘We made love until I’d climaxed, and then she called to her friend. I was still feeling dazed, it had been a very violent orgasm, and I hardly knew what was going on. Before I knew it I was making love with the second woman, she was exploring my naked body under the rushing water. They took it in turns, making love to me several times. After that they took me whenever they felt like it. They would call me up and tell me to be a certain place at a certain time and I would go. Sometimes they made love to me in turn, sometimes it was all three of us together.’

  ‘I see,’ he said, shifting round, trying to make himself more comfortable. ‘You say they took you whenever they wanted. Surely it is correct to say whenever you wanted.’

  ‘Are you blaming me, Father?’ I asked, sounding appalled by the suggestion. ‘I was weak, they took advantage of me. I couldn’t resist, they only had to caress my body, touch me in my feminine places, and I was at their mercy.’

  ‘So there was an element of coercion involved? They forced you?’ he asked excitedly.

  Bang! That was the key. ‘Yes, Father,’ I said, and it took all my willpower to keep that miserable tone. ‘They forced me, much as I didn’t want to. And sometimes if I wasn’t good they would punish me.’

  He coughed, his eyes bulging dangerously. ‘Punish?’ he managed to ask, straining to catch his breath and appear calm.

  ‘Yes, Father. On many occasions they physically punished me. It hurts even to talk about it.’

  ‘Then it is good that you talk about it,’ he insisted. ‘If you bottle it all up then it does no good.’

  ‘They would punish me like a naughty girl, Father. One of them would pull my knickers down and bend me over her knee. I’d beg her not to chastise me, but it wouldn’t do any good. She would pull up my skirt and then spank me several times on the bare bottom. It hurt me so much I’d scream and sob, but that only made her more determined.’

  ‘How did she punish you? With her hand? A slipper?’

  ‘It started with her hand. But then she moved on to using the flat side of a hairbrush. She would smack me until my bottom was red hot. I could see myself in the mirror. By the end of a session my bottom would be patterned red and pink, all over my buttocks and at the top of my thighs, and even on my breasts sometimes.’

  ‘Would you have to display yourself?’ he asked eagerly.

  Display myself? I didn’t know what that meant, but I could tell from his eager expression that it was important to him. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, Father.’

  ‘Did she make you stand in a corner, displaying your chastised posterior?’

  ‘Yes, yes. She would make me stand in a corner, holding up my skirt so that she and her friend could admire by smarting backside. It was so humiliating, Father. But the worst of it was that I enjoyed the humiliation, I enjoyed being spanked. Afterwards they would fuck me like a whore, and I’d have the most intense orgasms of my life. I loved being degraded by those two women.’

  He said nothing, his posture matched my own, he was leaning forward, face hidden in his hands. I could see his hands were shaking, and the colour had drained completely from his face. Outside it was raining, the world speeding past was a liquid blur. Had he read Freud, I wondered. Did the symbolism of speeding trains mean anything to him?

  ‘Will you help me, Father,’ I pleaded.

  ‘What can I do, my child? Do you seek forgiveness for these wanton sins?’

  ‘More than forgiveness, Father. I know I have sinned and I need to be punished, I need to suffer for all the wrongs I’ve done,’ I said evenly, the excitement pulsing in my veins making it harder and harder to control myself.

  ‘Punishment?’

  Our eyes met and I saw the doubt expressed there. ‘Yes, Father. Punish me.’ I fell forward, to my knees, in front of him. He tried to sit back but I buried my face in his lap, pressing my tits against his thighs. My face brushed against his prick, it’s divine hardness buried in the thick vestments that were a mark of his ministry.

  ‘As you wish, my child,’ he whispered, his voice quivering, ready to crack. I sat up on my knees and rolled my skirt up, revealing completely my black stockings and suspenders. He sat back and I bent over his lap, lifting my backside up as high as possible. My panties were soaked through, the dark patch between my thighs clearly visible. He pulled my knickers down and I felt the breeze brush between my thighs.

  The first smack sounded so unreal, a high pitched slap of skin on skin that was almost drowned out by the rattle of the train. If the sound was unreal then the sharp dagger of pain that shot through me wasn’t. It stung, but the pain was turned to pleasure, the red imprint of his hand connecting to the delicious excitement in my pussy. He spanked me several times, long hard strokes, moving from buttock to buttock, rouging my skin and building layer upon layer of exquisite pleasure.

  ‘I’ve been a bad girl, so very bad,’ I cried, wishing he would verbally chastise me as well as physically.

  ‘So very bad,’ he repeated breathlessly. ‘And now you are being spanked for it.’

  The heat on my backside was delicious in itself, but I wanted more than just a sound spanking. ‘But, Father,’ I cried, ‘this is how those sinful women treated me. It’s the same pleasure I feel, you must show me how wrong I’ve been…’

  ‘How child? How?’

  I passed my hand over his lap, found his prick and squeezed it lovingly. We said nothing, we understood. I slipped from his lap and knelt against the seat where I’d been sitting earlier, my backside raised, smarting painfully, the juices from my pussy running down my stockings.

  It took a second, but when I turned round I saw him standing over me, his prick red and hard in his hand. I arched my back, opened my aching pussy with my fingers, then guided his cock deep inside. The pleasure pierced me. I climaxed immediately, my cry filling the compartment. He thrust forward, fucking me quickly, filling me with his lovely hardness. He was inexperienced, his rhythm rough and ready, violent, passionate. I climaxed again, enjoying the feel of his cool body against my burning backside.

  His cry was muted, as if at the moment of his orgasm he remembered himself. He filled me with thick cream then withdrew quickly. I fixed my clothes slowly, slipping my panties off and stuffing them into my bag. He was already nosing through his book, his ashen face turned away from me, lips quivering tearfully.

  We remained silent until the train drew slowly into the station. I reached for the bag. The skirt rose up and I knew he was looking at my uncovered backside, still stinging red.

  ‘You know, Father,’ I said, smiling guiltily. ‘I tell a lot of lies.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘All that stuff about the other women, it wasn’t true,’ I admitted.

  ‘But why… for what reason?’ he mumble
d, looking askance.

  ‘My real sin is seducing men of the cloth. Nothing turns me on more than sex with a young priest.’

  The look of pain and confusion on his young face was pitiful. I sort of shrugged, grabbed my bag, and went to the door. I turned, saw him still looking lost. I stepped out onto the platform then turned back.

  ‘It’s all right, Father,’ I assured him, putting my head back into the train. ‘You’re the sixth priest I’ve seduced this way. The others enjoyed it as much as you did.’

  I watched him fall back into his seat, burying his head in his hands. He looked so sexy then, I almost climbed back into the train.

  Assignment

  Felicity arrived promptly at three that afternoon, just as had been agreed previously. She was good like that, Clive could not fault her there. In many ways she had been the perfect secretary: attentive, hard working, punctual, very good at her job in every conceivable way. Damn it, she’d even had the right degree of sexiness, and she knew how to charm clients, that too could not be denied. Perhaps that should have been a clue, the fact that she was so perfect in every respect…

  ‘I hope I’m not late,’ she remarked with a smile when he opened the door to her. She knew she wasn’t late and was making a point of it, but he could forgive her the small conceits.

  ‘No, you’re right on time, as usual,’ he said, making way for her. She was wearing a smart business suit of short skirt, white blouse and matching jacket. The eye was drawn naturally towards her, to her long silky smooth legs, the pale tan of her flesh contrasting to the darkness of her clothes. She liked to look good, that was obvious, and as always she had done a perfect job.

  He showed her the way through the house and up the stairs to his office, aware of the way she was looking around with unconcealed interest. It was the first time she’d been to the house, and of course she was curious to see her employer’s house. The office was the largest room in the house, on the first floor overlooking the garden, and beyond that the woods. Though functional it was a bit more relaxed than his other office, though it was still a working office and not a den for him to hide away in.