“Father Tim?” came the tentative reply.“Father Tim has been transferred. I’m Father Edward.”“Do you know where he went?” Her voice was d...ep, husky, that of a middle-aged woman.“I’m afraid not. I can hear your confession if you’d like.”"Well, if you really want to,” she said as she launched into a litany of sins, most of them carnal in nature. I must admit, I did find her confession titillating. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has only been a week since my last confession. I have been. The was waiting for me on the bed, resting on a large bath towel, the spreader bar. Guiding me and still pulling me by the end of my cock, M made me put in a prostration position on the bed, head down, buttocks raised, arms under my stomach. My ankles were connected at each end of the bar and my wrists in the middle. I was well exposed, buttocks open, to my mistress's hammer. M asked me to count out loud the number of blows indicating that each cry would automatically be repeated, the blow. More

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