Saturday, 7 January 2023

At the convent (M/FF story)

When I first looked through my files and found a story about a guy being a nude model in a convent, I found the idea so silly I wanted  to delete it unpublished. However, re-reading it, I found myself loving the way I had written it. Hence why I'm posting it here.

"So you're James," the woman told me as I entered her office. "The model? I'm Sister Stephanie." We shook hands, and I sat down in the chair opposite her. My employer turned out to be a blonde in her mid-twenties, with a friendly smile. "You seem confused," she said.

"I'd say unsettled, but that's splitting hairs. Point is, it's my first time working in a convent," I told her. "Not a lot of business here for someone in my line of work."

"Some of the younger nuns are taking up painting," she told me. "They're getting quite good at it, but... painting flowers and fruit gets DULL after a while. If you know what I mean."

"Moving on to painting people, that's natural enough. But they told me you were looking for a nude model. Is that true?"

She nodded. "Does that bother you?"

"Not at all, I've done this kind of work before. It's just... getting my cock out in a convent sounds like the highlight of a drunken story, not a day's honest work."

She blushed as she looked down at the paper, refusing to look me in the eye. "They warned us you were a very direct person."

"Sweetheart, you're going to be looking at it. Why does it matter if I talk about it?"

She blushed even redder, and didn't even seem to notice that she was holding her documents upside down. She was cuter when she was blushing, I noticed. She should do it more often.


Going into a room full of nuns, stepping unto a podium, and taking your clothes off is one of those things that make you wonder whether you're actually awake or not. It sounds like a dream, or the beginning of a joke, or something. But dream or not, I am a professional, and do my job.

Being an art model sounds to some people like an easy way of making money. You just stand there for a few hours and watch the money rolling in. You don't have to do anything! Of course, the reality is somewhat different. Doing nothing is a lot harder than it sounds. You have to stand motionless for hours, which is really quite unnatural. Most people move around slightly – they shift position, get more comfortable, stretch, a million little things that a model is not supposed to do. You need a great deal of patience and an iron will. I have both. Also, it's useful to look good. Models with beer bellies are not exactly in high demand. Luckily, I look great.

The work was four hours a day, five days in a row. By the third day, I'd realized that Stephanie spent a lot more time in the room than she needed to. She claimed she was there to keep an eye on the girls, but her eyes were usually on something quite different. My employer was turning out to be a rather naughty little minx. Of course, most of the girls had hungry eyes. Not a lot of nude men in a convent.


It was on the fourth day it happened. There was a loud commotion outside the door, and in stepped a tall woman in her mid-thirties, bright red hair, and an angry scowl on her face. From the way she was dressed, and the manner in which the other nuns bowed, I guessed she was an authority in the convent. It seemed my friend Stephanie didn't have the necessary authorization to do this, after all.

I stood there calmly as the girls were chased out of the room. I've found that the stupidest thing a nude model can do if the modelling is interrupted, is run for their clothes or try to cover themselves up. That suggests that you have done something wrong, that you have something to hide. I'd accepted a job, and I'd performed it to the best of my ability. There is no shame in that.

By now, everyone had left the room apart from me, Sister Stephanie, and the red-headed woman, whom I learnt was called Lucy. Apparently, she was the Mother Superior. I'd gotten dressed, and Lucy had told us to follow her into her office. Stephanie was fidgeting, even shivering a little. It was clear she was in a world of trouble.

Lucy sat down at her desk, and asked me to explain what I was doing there. I did so, and she tapped her finger against the table. "Do you have anything to add to this, Stephanie?" The girl shook her head, blushing again. Still adorable, I noted.

"Mister Brooks," she said, looking at me. "You're mostly innocent in this affair. You neglected to check that your employer had the authority to employ you, but that's a forgivable lapse of judgement. Especially since I know how you can make up for it."

She looked over at Stephanie. "Stephanie, YOUR sins are, I'm afraid, rather more severe. Undermining my authority? Arranging a show like this? Inviting SIN into this convent?" I should feel insulted at being described like that, but I didn't really care. Stephanie, however, was looking at the floor, and I could see tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked so vulnerable. I wanted to hold her, to tell her that everything was going to be all right, but I had a feeling that wouldn't go down so well with the Mother Superior.

"You know what's going to happen, right?" Lucy asked strictly. Stephanie nodded. "Mister Brooks," she said, looking at me again. I told you I had a way for you to be absolved of your sins. This is it. Stephanie needs to be punished, and I was wondering if you'd do the honours."

"What do you mean, 'punished'?" I asked.

"I want you to take her over your knee and spank her."

At that point, I'd thought that nothing could surprise me further, but I was proven wrong. I stared at her, searching for any clue that she was kidding, but came up empty. This day had officially taken a weird turn. I hadn't known that a day where you took your clothes off in a convent COULD take a weird turn, but it had. "I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly? You want me to take this young woman over my lap and spank her? Did I accidentally wander into Castle Anthrax?" Lucy gave me a blank look, and I realized that she was not a Monty Python fan.

"If you won't do it, I will perform the task myself," Lucy told me. "Make your choice."

I looked over at Stephanie. She looked scared about what was about to happen, but that was no wonder. She caught my eye, and gave a slight nod. I realized that she'd rather be punished by me than by Lucy. And if I'm perfectly honest, part of me wanted to have this cute girl's bottom over my lap. "I'll do it," I told Lucy.

"Good. You may sit in that chair." She nodded towards a straight-backed chair in the corner. "I will stay and make sure nothing... INDECENT goes on. You may begin whenever you're ready."

I moved the chair to the middle of the room and sat down. Stephanie moved to my right, standing by my knee and raising her robe, before lowering herself over my lap. Her bottom was poking up, and I realized that she'd done this before. More than once.

I rested my hand on the bottom in front of me. She was wearing a pair of modest white panties. I considered lowering them, but decided not to. If Lucy wanted them lowered, I had no doubt she'd tell me, and if she didn't, I would just offend her.

Stephanie had buried her face in her hands, already crying from the shame of it all and fear of what was to come. Part of me hated myself for causing her more pain than she already felt. The rest of me said, 'Go for it'.

I brought my hand hard down on the quivering cheeks in front of me, and she arched her back, letting out a little yelp, followed by more as my hand continued to strike her bottom. I'd never spanked anyone before, but I seemed to be having an effect.

Her cheeks jiggled under my hand as I struck them, again and again, her body jerking in tune with the smacks. I glanced over at Lucy, who seemed to be impressed with my handiwork: she was grinning to herself, and doing a bad job of concealing it.

Before long, Stephanie's bottom was bright pink, and hot to the touch. I looked over at Lucy, who waved her hand. "Keep going, Mister Brooks. She's not been punished nearly enough yet. I want that bottom to be bright red before you're done. In fact," she said, "I think you can lower those panties now."

"Mother Superior!" Stephanie said. "Please! He'll see..." She stopped, too embarrassed to continue.

"Considering what you've gotten HIM to display, to the entire convent no less, I think it's only fair. Mister Brooks?"

Stephanie gave me the most pleading look I have ever seen, but I placed my thumbs in the waistband of her panties, lowering them to her knees, revealing one of the more well-shaped bottoms I have seen. A flawless derrière, the only downside being a fair amount of pink handprints spread over it.

Stephanie cried out as I continued the spanking. She was sobbing now, and as I placed a few extra hard smacks to her sit spots, she reached a hand back to protect herself. Without slowing down, I grabbed it with my other hand, holding her hand gently, but firmly away.

"Very good, Mister Brooks," Lucy said, grinning from her chair. "You're a natural."

Something seemed odd about our dear Mother Superior. That grin on her face wasn't the smile of someone seeing justice being served. I had first thought it was the sadistic glee at other people's pain that's so common in high positions all over the world, but upon further reflection, I discovered it wasn't. It was something more basic. And her eyes – glazed over, as if she was very deep in thought.

But those considerations could wait. My focus should be with the crying girl over my lap.

By now, her bottom was bright red. I decided it was enough, so I stopped spanking and started rubbing, gently trying to relieve some of the sting. It took some time for Stephanie to notice, but when she did, she shot me a thankful glance.

I helped her to her feet, and gave her a hug, patting her back as she cried into my shirt. I didn't know what the Mother Superior would think of this, but I didn't really care.

"You may go back to your room," she told the girl once she'd calmed down a bit. "One of the girls will be up later with some ointment. And I really hope you've learned your lesson today. I'd hate to see this happen again." I concluded that our dear Lucy was not, in fact, a very good liar. Stephanie left us, rubbing her sore rear through her long robes, which concealed everything. I briefly wondered how many girls here sported red rears to match hers.

"Very well. You may go, Mister Brooks," Lucy said, returning to her documents. She looked up again a few seconds later when she realized I hadn't moved an inch. "Can I help you with something?"

"You know, you're a sadistic little lady, taking as much pleasure as you do in their punishment," I said. Deliberately provoking her, but if I was right, there could be only one outcome.

I'd realized what Lucy had been thinking of when she watched me spank Stephanie. The glazed look and the grin told me her imagination was running wild, and the obvious assumption was that she was imagining herself taking part in the spanking. But which part was she playing? My part, with Stephanie's bare bottom over her lap and at her mercy? Or Stephanie's?

Of course, if she wanted Stephanie over her lap, she would have spanked her herself. Which meant the conclusion was clear. Over the years, I've learnt that some girls want to be in the hands and at the mercy of a big, strong man, and I had a feeling Lucy was part of that group.

"Excuse me?" she said, staring at me.

"You heard me. You don't do this for them. You do this for YOU. Spanking excites you. But what you're doing, is not ok. You're the naughtiest woman in this entire convent."

No outrage, no shouting, but a whole lot of blushing. If there had been any doubt about my conclusion, there was none left now. "And even if I was, which I'm not, what would you do about it?"

"I would bare that little bottom of yours and spank it bright red," I told her. "And I will."

She straightened her back, blushing like crazy, but trying to appear threatening. It was adorable to watch. "You wouldn't dare!"

I stepped over to the desk, pulling her to her feet. She tried to back away, but I grabbed her wrist, pulling her over my lap as I sat down in her chair. "This is completely unacceptable!" she yelled, but she didn't actually struggle, making it easy for me to lift her robe. Underneath, she was wearing a black pair of fairly immodest panties. One set of rules for everyone else, one set for her, and this didn't surprise me the least.

"Cute panties," I told her, causing her to blush even more. "Too bad they have to go."

I lowered them, placing my hand on her bare bottom. One of the cutest backsides I'd laid eyes on. If I knew there were this many cute bottoms in a convent, I'd have visited one sooner.

I started spanking, and she cried out as my hand landed. It was clear that she wasn't as used to being over someone's knee as Stephanie was. A shame. I had no doubt it would have improved her.

"Ow! That hurts!" she yelped.

"It's a spanking, dear. It's supposed to."

She tried to reach back, but I grabbed her hand. She tried to struggle free, but I was stronger. She kicked her legs; it was clear that the spanking had been a lot less painful in her mind than in real life.

"Enjoying yourself?" I said as I concentrated on her sit spots. I could see her growing wetter and wetter, and she'd already stained my jeans. I didn't care, though.

"No!" she said, pouting.

"I'm not an expert, but I'm pretty sure lying is a breach of the Commandments. If you lie to me again, I'll take off my belt."

"No! Please, your hand hurts more than enough!" she howled.

"Are you going to tell me the truth, then?"

"Yes! Ow! Yes, I'm enjoying myself!"

"Good to know," I said, grinning.

She cried and moaned in pain and pleasure as her bottom turned pink, then red, under my hand. When I was satisfied that her pleas were earnest, I lifted her up, sitting her down on my lap.

"Did that satisfy your spanking itch?"

"And then some," she said, rubbing her throbbing bottom. "Can I...." She swallowed. "Can I have a hug?"

I grinned, and gathered her in my arms. "Off course, my dear." I hugged her for a while, then helped her to her feet.

I handed her my card. "Why don't you call me the next time you get too big for your britches, and I'll sort you out."

"I will," she said.

I expected her to call me sooner or later, but I was a bit surprised that it only took a week.

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Hiatus

 I've recently had wrist surgery, which makes it hard to type. This blog is going on hiatus for a few weeks.