The following FICTIONAL story was inspired by a recent dinner party I attended while in good ol' gay Hudson.
I walked into the confessional booth of the priest known as "Father Spank". Joe told me that he gives the best discipline. I always fantasized about a spanking, especially from a priest.
I sat down, he opened the screen. I looked through, and there was a strange light coming from the other side.
"Forgive me father for I have sinned..." I don't remember saying that since I was twelve.
"Uh, huh," said the voice, a little disinterested. I thought I heard typing.
"Um...Joe sent me..." That was the 'password'. He would know now what I really wanted.
The priest laughed, "Oh, Joe! How is that old whore! Such a bottom! Hung like a horse, but ya know, not the prettiest filly in the stable..."
I peered through the grate and saw the computer screen.
"Hey," I said, "are you on MANHUNT, Father?"
"Yep. Wi Fi. It's great!
"Father, you cruise Manhunt while listening to confessionals?"
"No, no, no...not always....sometimes I'm on DLIST. C'mon let's go. Listen, I have some last rites to do this evening...we have to get this over and done BEFORE the guy dies, OK?"
We both got out of the confessional and walked down through the long, quiet, solemn, church.
As we passed the altar, the priest looked at me, and said, "Did you douche?"
"Nice to know...." He raised his eyebrows, and we continued walking.
"We can't do this in the rectory", he said to me "too much noise. I got this little log cabin in Claverack, on like five-six acres...PERFECT for this type of stuff."
We got in his car, a huge SUV, that sits about eight, and drove to Claverack.
Once we got inside the cabin, the Father removed his robes. He was very cute, square jaw, Italian, with hairy forearms. And I noticed that this black pants fit him PERFECTLY, as if they were specially designed just for him. The fit showed off his big dick - and his balls - it was amazing. It was odd, I thought I almost bought a pair like those in a store in Lauderdale last summer...
"So, what'll it be?" he asked me, "The anal rosary beads? The ten inch rubber crucifix?"
"Um...just the spanking please..." I answered. I started to undress. The entire scene, though a little odd, was turning me on.
"OK. You know, I was in Home Depot the other day. They had this great little, gas pot-bellied stove for the rectory - vent free. It's usually $400, but it was on-sale for a hundred."
After he said that, he looked at the wicker basket with the black velvet lining next to me.
Joe warned me about this part. I hesitated.
"It'll be tax deductible," said the priest.
"OK, OK..." I said. I took one hundred dollars cash out of my pocket and put it into the basket. I had my pants around my ankles, I was hard, and I was thinking about my accountant, all at the same time.
The priest looked at the cash and nodded his approval, "Do you want the altar boy costume? I could throw that in..."
"No...I'm OK. Let's just get on with it..."
"I'll write you a receipt later and mail it out..."
"Yeah, that's fine - let's just focus on the spanking right now, please, Father!" I was getting irritated.
"Well, it looks like someone DOES want a spanking!"
With that, he grabbed my arm and flung me over his knee, pulled down my underwear and started slapping me.
After a few strokes, I realized, he was hitting me like a big nellie queen!
"Um, you can do it a little harder, you know..." I said.
He tried some more. I just layed there and rolled my eyes...this was nothing. It's as if I was getting spanked by a twelve-year-old girl!
I got up.
"Listen, I don't think that this is working out." I reached for the cash in the basket, but he was quick, and pulled it away.
"Sorry," said the priest "ALL sales are FINAL!"
"Fine. Mail me the receipt."
"Don't you think it's wrong, I mean, you're a priest! It's sacrilegious what you're doing here!
"Girrrrl," the priest said, "Holy Wars, the Spanish Inquisition, the Pope's silence during the Nazi Holocaust of the Jews, do you really think THIS matters? Puh-leeze....Prostitution? It's in the Bible! Those stained glass windows don't clean themselves, ya know what I'm talking about?"
"I'm going to report you to the Bishop!"
"HER? Babydoll, listen. You're over 18, you got nothing on me. A gay priest? Big fucking deal! That news is OLD, bitch! It's SO three hundred years ago!"
With that, I walked out, slammed the door, and started my long walk from Claverack, back to Hudson....