“Count.” He said firmly. “One” she called out for him. He swung the paddle again this time marking a new area, “Two” again he hit her with...the paddle, always changing the area he hit “Three”, He continued to paddle her, as she counted higher between gasps, listening to it become harder and harder for her to focus on the number she was calling out; watching her lovely ass turn from white, to a tender pink, to watching deep shades of red streak across her flesh. After he was done bruising her. They met, of course, in the office."This is sacramental scotch, Mother Ursula." he said with a conspirational smile as he took a bottle of Grant's Best Procurable from his desk. "Would you care for a nightcap?" My goodness, Father Murphy. I didn't know there was such a thing," she replied with a matching smile. Then, although she knew that her tolerance for alcohol was very limited, she said, "I guess, since it's sacramental, I could have a small one."The nun sat on the desk and the priest sat. More

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