Menage (28 page)

From the door I watched him rummage through his walk-in wardrobe, muttering to himself until he found a dark grey suit bag. He held its hanger out to me.

I hesitated - to be difficult, perhaps, but also because I didn't yet know what I was getting into. My gaze drifted to his crotch. Beneath the black tracksuit, he was fully hard, standing out a clean ninety degrees from his belly. He wasn't shy about it, either. Even as I stared, he shifted his free hand to his erection, cupping it back against his body and giving it a hard, shaft-stretching pull. Whatever that suit bag held, it really blew his horn.

He thrust the bag closer. Take these clothes to the bathroom and put them on. Then come back and knock on the door.'

I couldn't resist his voice of authority, or the prospect of letting his horn blow me. I collected the hanger with two bent fingers and swung the bag over my shoulder. 'No problem,' I said. 'But do me a
favour
. Don't start without me.'

With a taunting leer, he treated his shaft to another tug. He stopped beneath the head and waved it at me through the cloth. 'Don't worry, Miss Kitty. I'm as hot to trot as you are.'

That stung my pride a bit, but it was true. My
quim
was swimming and my palms tingled with adrenalin. I could hardly wait to have it off with him. I prayed his game would be a short one. Knowing Sean, though, I expected he'd torture us both as long as he could.

In the privacy of the bathroom, I unzipped the suit bag. My eyes rounded. It held a Catholic schoolgirl's outfit: a prim white blouse, a pleated navy skirt and
twinset
, and short white socks with lacy hems. Everything, down to the utilitarian cotton bra, was my size. He hadn't bought these things for some nameless playmate. He'd bought them for me.

I didn't know whether to be flattered or amused. In any case, I wasn't too amused to dampen the virginal white panties as soon as I pulled them on.

All dressed and buttoned and tucked, I knocked on his closed bedroom door. After a moment, during which papers rustled, he told me to come in. His voice sounded strange - crisper than usual, but also kinder. Come in, Kathryn, he'd said, the way a teacher would.

A tiny shiver chilled the back of my neck. I opened the door. Sean sat behind his desk, flipping through a fat manila folder. He'd made good use of my absence. Not only had he turned the desk away from the wall, but a picture of a saint hung where his print of
Edvard
Munch's
The Scream used to be.

'Close the door behind you,' he said in that same soft-spoken manner. He rose slightly to scoot his chair back from the desk.

That's when I saw he was wearing a cassock and dog collar. Though I wasn't Catholic, the costume took me aback. Scenes from The Thorn Birds raced through my mind.

Sean made a very sexy priest.

He folded his hands on top of the open folder. Frown- ]
ing
gently, he shook his head at me. 'I've been receiving some
  
disturbing
  
reports
  
about
 
you,
  
Kathryn,
  
very disturbing,’

The words, the tone and manner in which they were spoken, had a strange effect on me. I put out a hand to catch the balance I'd unaccountably lost. I knew he'd attended boarding school, and - without being told - I knew that, once upon a time, someone must have spoken to him just like this.

I touched my soft navy
twinset
and studied the scuffs on my trainers. For a second I smelled blackboard chalk. I knew just who I was supposed to be: a misbehaving schoolgirl, a bit of a smart
alec
, but far from fearless -and normally a pet of the good father. He was a
favourite
of mine, too. Despite my rebellious nature, I didn't like disappointing him. 'How old are you now, Kathryn?' I thought for a moment. 'Sixteen.' 'Sixteen,' he repeated. Was it my imagination, or did his eyes linger on my breasts? 'I'd expect such
behaviour
from an ordinary sixteen-year-old, but not from a Saint Demeter's girl.'

Sweat prickled between my shoulder blades at his sad reproof. Oh, if only I'd been good. My mouth was dry. I bobbed in a curtsey I'd only seen on TV. The pleated skirt tickled my knees. 'I'm sure I can explain, Father.'

‘I don't see how. Sister Mary Francis says you've been inciting the other girls to lustful thoughts.'

My good intentions dissolved. 'Sister Mary Francis is a jealous hag!'

My passionate outburst inspired a smile that threatened, but did not destroy, the sober set of his mouth. Regretting the slip perhaps, he assumed a more lawyerly demeanor. 'Did you or did you not instruct both Ellen and Beth in
onanistic
practices?'

I stared blankly at him. He pursed his full, sensual lips. Not for the first time, I imagined how he'd kiss. Ellen and Beth said he wouldn't ever. He was a good priest, not the sort who caused a scandal and got sent to the back of beyond. That might be true, but it didn't explain the things I felt when he met my gaze in lectures, as if a current were surging between our deepest parts. In my daydreams, I told him the secret things I wanted, things I'd never heard of anyone wanting. He always understood. He was still young, he'd say. It was hard
i
give everything over to God. In my fantasies, he was afraid to touch me but once he started he couldn't stop. He made me his secret lover. I wasn't certain what that involved, but I knew I wanted it.

'Kate?' His frown deepened as if he sensed my thoughts. 'Did you teach your friends to pleasure themselves? Did you, in fact, crawl into their beds after lights-out and put your hands on their private parts?'

I hung my head. 'Yes, Father, but it was only to keep them from trying it with boys.'

His palms smacked the surface of his desk. My hand flew to my chest. The anger that darkened his handsome features seemed entirely real. 'Do not compound your sin by quibbling,' he shouted. 'And where on earth did you learn such a filthy habit, anyway?'

'From you, Father,’1 said, without pausing to think.

He goggled at me. 'How dare you even suggest -'

'But I saw you. Remember the day I left my hanky in your office, the one my
nanna
embroidered specially?
Iwent
back to get it, but I didn't know if you were there so I just opened the door a crack. You were standing by the window with the blinds
 
closed.
 
You had your cassock pulled up in front and your, your thing was in your hand. I couldn't believe how big and hard it was. I couldn't look away. It seemed so strange and beautiful - the way it moved, the way the veins wound around it, all blue and strong.'

I took one step closer to the desk. He stared at me with a mixture of fear and fascination, his mouth slack, his flush extending from clerical collar to hairline. He knew his future was on the line, and only I knew I'd never, ever hurt him - even if it meant abandoning all my dreams.

'You rubbed it with my hanky,' I said. 'You had my
nanna's
hanky in your hand and you rubbed it up and down your thing. The big knob at the end looked so red I thought it must hurt, but you were humming the way I do when they serve chocolate for dessert, so I thought you must like it.'

I did like it,' he whispered, a man in a dream.

'I thought so.' I leant on the edge of his blotter. Sweat glistened on his forehead and upper lip. My nostrils flared. Vocation or no, he could not quell the most primitive evidence of his maleness. I drank his scent in quick, shallow breaths. It dizzied me. My voice darkened. 'You'd been rubbing so long, I think you'd polished it,’ I said. "The part on the top was shiny. It looked so smooth, I wished I could put it in my mouth and suck it. Just as I was thinking that, you moaned my name and started rubbing faster. It made me feel all squirmy inside. "Kate," you said. "Katie, Katie, Kate." On the last "Kate" you made a face as if you were going to scream, but nothing came out - except down below, from the tip of your thing, a spurt of, of seed came jetting out. It made a noise when it hit the blinds. I guess you didn't want to make a mess because you shoved my hanky over the end. There must have been a lot, though, because some dribbled on the floor.

'I wanted to touch the little puddle. I'd never seen a man's seed before. I wondered what it felt like. Was it creamy or sticky? Was it still warm, and how would it taste? Things like that make me curious. I can't rest until I find out.'

Sean gasped like a fish out of water, too breathless to respond.

A little weak-kneed myself, I sat on the corner of his desk and hugged my waist. 'I got the idea to touch myself from you. You liked it so much I thought I would, too. I guess you know a girl's thing is really little, but it's between my legs right where yours is and it gets wet and slippery when I play with it. It feels good, but I've never felt what you seemed to be feeling. Beth was like I was, but Ellen was like you. Beth played with her breasts while I rubbed her
thingie
. It made these loud squishy noises. She got so excited at the end we had to put the pillow over her mouth so she wouldn't wake the others.'

Sean covered his face.

'I know priests aren't supposed to do it,' I continued. 'In fact, I know I'm not supposed to, either. But since I've already decided I'm going to, I may as well learn to do it right. I hoped you'd tell me what I'm doing wrong. There isn't anyone else I trust enough to ask.' Sean muttered something I couldn't hear. 'What?' I said.

He lifted his head. His lips were pressed together, the flesh around them pale. 'You're too curious for your own good.' His heavy-lidded gaze dropped to my breasts, long enough for me to be certain about it. 'And too grown up for your age. You tempt me just as you tempted Beth and Ellen - with your beauty and your spirit. You make everyone you meet long to possess you. I understand why you enjoy it, Katie, but it's a dangerous game.'

'I
  
didn't
  
mean
  
to
  
hurt
  
anyone,
  
Father.
  
I
  
only wondered -' 'Hush,' he said.

'But I love you, Father. I would never -' 'Hush,’ he repeated. He showed no awareness that I'd just spilt my deepest secret. He
steepled
his hands before his mouth. They were shaking.

I waited for him to collect himself. After a few deep breaths, he rolled his chair back until it hit the wall. He smoothed the black robe over his knees. The gesture drew my attention to his tented crotch. A small damp spot told me he must be naked under the cloth.

My sex fluttered with longing. Waiting for him to play out the drama took all my self-control. I almost wished he'd made this more of a caricature. I could feel the young priest's torment. I wanted him as much as if I truly were his backsliding pet.

'Come here,' he said, in a low, quavering tone. 'I think you need correction.'

'I do,’ I agreed and circled the desk to his side. 'Shall you beat it out of me, Father?' 'Is that what you want, Katie?'

The look we exchanged was eerily intimate. He seemed to see straight into my soul, or my character's soul. We
recognised
each other. Our desires were equally dark, our hopes equally tremulous. We were birds of a feather - whether we liked it or not.

'I believe I need it,’ I said. 'I believe it would do me good.'

What I really meant was: I know this is the only bridge you'll let me cross to get close to you.

'Very well.' He searched my eyes a moment longer. 'Come here and bend over my lap.'

He arranged me over his armless chair. Both my hands and feet touched the ground. He braced his legs to keep the chair pressed firmly to the wall. His thighs were warm, his erection hot. My shirt had ridden up and the damp spot over his cock met the skin under my navel. I allowed my weight to settle closer. A muscle twitched in his leg. He touched the hem of my pleated navy skirt.

As though reluctant to touch me, he lifted the skirt to my waist, folding it neatly as he went. He paused. 'You're almost too beautiful to spank.' The heat of his hand hovered an inch above my buttock. 'It must be done, however, and nothing must shield you from the blows.'

His fingers slipped under the waistband of my panties and slowly, slowly, he pulled them down my tingling curves. He could not avoid touching me then. The back of his fingers slid over my haunches and, after a moment, his thumbs joined them, gently following the crease where my buttocks met my thighs. I heard him groan as the panties dropped to my ankles.

'Like dove's breasts,’ he murmured, his hand hovering again. He swallowed hard. 'Prepare yourself, Kate.'

The blows began before I could, cracking upward on to the underside of my buttocks - brisk, quick smacks that stung just enough to make me squirm.

'Oh,’ I cried, wriggling forward until his erection prodded the curls of my fleece. 'Oh, Father, it hurts.' 'Be still,’ he ordered through gritted teeth, but he liked me where I was. He spanked me from the top now, lifting his hand high and driving it down, jolting me into his cock with every blow. The vibrations rippled through me to him and through my sex as well. My pussy felt huge and swollen, swollen tight like ripe, juicy plum. The blows were all the relief I had for my cravings. I began to lift myself in anticipation.