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Subject: Corrective Measures (Mg, pedo, con, Inter, Oral)
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Date: Sun, 06 Mar 2005 20:39:59 +0000
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Corrective Measures (Mg, pedo, con, Inter, Oral)
by Inno Cencelost
It was the turn of the century, and the sun shone brightly on the communities
of the new world. Precious metals, the enslavement of the indigenous population,
hard work, and devotion to church had rained down an almost unimagined wealth
on the colonies.
In a large community in one of those colonies, a horse and carriage clacked
its way through a big gate into a large courtyard. A handsome man and very
beautiful young woman emerged.
Upstairs on the second floor, Father Ramirez waved his permission to the
pledge assigned to him as an aide and watched as the robed assistant opened
the doors to his spacious receiving room, inviting the man and woman in.
They bowed appropriately, and when invited with a wave of his hand, sat themselves
into the two big wooden arm chairs in front of his desk, eyeing each other
nervously.
"Father Ramirez," the man said, his voice creaking anxiously, as if asking
permission to speak, to state his reason for requesting time with the holy
father.
Father Ramirez spoke first, seeking to ease the man s obvious discomfort.
"Mr. Spanza," he began slowly. "You are a good man. You and your fine family
bring honor and wealth to this community and to this church with your hard
work and your dedication to spiritual health. There is no need for you to
feel discomfort here. Speak."
The man swallowed, and looked for reassurance from his wife, who nodded to
him.
"Father," he began. "We try very hard to follow the teachings of the church,
my wife and I."
"Yes," Father Ramirez said, nodding.
"But," the man continued, looking once again to his wife for reassurance.
"It's our daughter."
The man's voice trailed off at the end.
"What?" Father Ramirez asked, his head tilting quizzically. "What is it?"
The man could not look up.
"She's not right," he said sheepishly. "We've tried so hard."
Once more, the man's voice trailed off. The woman finished his thought.
"Father," she said, displaying much more conviction than her husband. "It's
like she's possessed."
Father Ramirez looked up quickly as his aide, who was still standing by the
big doors into the room, coughed and shifted nervously on his feet. It was
not forbidden for a woman to speak in a situation such as this, but it was
certainly uncommon, and it was usually by invitation. The old priest looked
at the woman, as if noticing her for the first time.
She was a handsome young woman, who carried with her, an old-world beauty
and a fine grace. Her eyes dropped quickly as the priest looked into them.
The priest looked at her fine dress, the intricate lace bows in her hair,
the extravagant necklace. He had seen her type before, a little too aware
of her beauty, a little too inclined to employ it.
"It does seem so Father," the man spoke again, rescuing his wife from her
own boldness.
The priest's face took on a new, deep seriousness as he looked back at the
man.
"Speak of it," he instructed.
Mr. Spanza told the priest of the family's torment.
A daughter, a young daughter, even now only 11, had become an impossible
burden on the man and his wife. She was, he said, a very clever child, but
she was cursed with an unbecomingly bold, precocious and mischievous demeanour.
"Father," the man said. "She knows better, but she refuses to behave. She
challenges us constantly."
"Hmmm," Father Ramirez murmured, nodding.
"And Father," he continued. "She refuses to embrace the church."
The old priest sighed and lowered his eyes, nodding his understanding.
They spoke at length, the priest asking specific questions about the girl's
behavior. Finally, he gave the man and woman his answer.
"You are good people," he began. "You do not deserve this burden. We will
help you."
The priest told the couple he would personally oversee the girl's proper
education within the walls of the compound.
"Bring her here today. We will see if there is anything that can be done.
She can alternate, spending a week here, and then a week in your home, until
there is some improvement."
They thanked him profusely as they bowed and were ushered out of the receiving
room by his aide. When they had gone he spoke to the aspiring young priest.
"Let's try and help this family," he said. "Spiritual instruction, but not
too heavy of a regimen. She is still a child. Give her a chance to relax
and play as well. Let her be happy here."
Father Ramirez thought that kindness and teaching would be the answer.
He had actually forgotten about the girl, busying himself with more important
matters of the church, until three days later when his aide spoke of her.
"She is a bundle your holiness," his assistant said.
The priest looked up questioningly.
"The Spanza girl," the aide explained. "She is spirited, and quite boisterous.
She has charmed each of her teachers that is certain, but she does not seem
inclined to embrace her lessons."
"Hmmm," the priest murmured, remembering his conversation with the young
couple. "I'd like to meet this girl. Send her up after evening meal."
At 8 pm, there was a soft knock on the door to his ante room. His aide stepped
through the doorway, nodded, ushered a little girl inside, then left and
closed the door.
He watched her struggle to understand, her hands nervously and submissively
clasped behind her back. She was tall and slim, a raven-haired girl with
the potential for her mother's grace clearly visible. She was appropriately
dressed in a simple young girl's frock that fell to a point half way between
her knees and her ankles.
"Come here child," he said, motioning for her to walk over to him.
He watched the girl walk nervously toward him, her eyes bouncing around the
room trying to find something of comfort. She looked at him as she approached
and their eyes met momentarily. She stopped in front of him and bowed her
head.
The priest murmured softly as he looked the young girl up and down. She was
a vision of angelic loveliness, her girlish face already showing the signs
of incredible feminine beauty, her thick, wavy black hair loosely pulled
back and tied behind her head. Even her stance, her legs together, her hands
clasped behind her back, her head slightly bowed, contributed to the visual
affect. He could not imagine a more perfectly packaged illustration of innocent,
youthful femininity. Surely this lovely child could not be the little vixen
he had heard so much about.
"Now child, what is this I hear about you not accepting your lessons?" the
old priest asked.
At first she showed her fear of speaking freely in front of the priest, politely
giving him one-word answers, refusing to meet his gaze. They spoke for several
minutes before the girl finally began to open up. Then, as it became apparent
that her boldness was not triggering an admonition or lecture from the priest,
the girl became bolder, bringing her hands around in front, even letting
her eyes meet his occasionally.
Her answers told the story. Her parents, she said, were overly protective
and didn't let her do anything. Her lessons, she said, were boring.
"You need to understand that your dedication to your studies and your devotion
to your parents are part of your commitment to the church," the priest said.
Her bold answer spoke a reckless admission.
"I don't believe in the church Father," she said with a cockiness that cut
deep.
"Don't even think such things," the priest said loudly, reaching out to grab
her wrist, pulling her closer.
There was shock in her eyes.
"Something is burning inside you," the priest said as his eyes looked deeply
into hers, his voice displaying his deep conviction and some anger
With his free hand, he reached up run his finger tips over the softness of
her cheek, watching her tremble nervously, unsure of herself in the presence
of the old priest, the embodiment of power.
He watched her gasp lightly as his finger tips moved in a little circle over
her cheek, then slipped into her hair, moving back to curl around behind
her ear. The girl's eyes closed as his finger tips tenderly played their
way down onto her neck, running along the line of the high collar on her
frock. She was responding to him.
"I thought so," the priest said to himself with some satisfaction.
His fingers continued to slide along the bare skin of her neck as he watched
her breath quicken.
She was like a ripe fruit in his fingers, waiting to be picked. He struggled
with himself. Could he do it? It was one thing to engage in these things
with the little half-naked native children. The sun-baked children of the
forest made wonderful bedwarmers and he loved to indulge himself with them.
But this, the soft white, cultured, old-world child of a parishioner, a rich
and influential parishioner, this he had never done.
"Father," she gasped softly, her eyes still closed, expressing her nervous
anxiety.
He remembered his commitment to the girl's parents to personally see to her
salvation. Well he had discovered the source of the problem, and there was
only one path that could lead to a solution. He had to stoke the fire burning
inside the little wench, and confront her with it.
His hand dropped down toward her knees, grasped a fistful of her frock, and
quickly lifted it.
"Father?" the girl gasped, her eyes opening wide, shocked by the swiftness
and power of his action, and by the boldness of his hand.
The priest's hand quickly flipped up the girl's frock and tucked underneath,
seeking, and finding the string ties at the waist of her undergarment. His
other hand squeezed her wrist hard as she struggled momentarily to move away
from his bold advances.
"Don't move," he instructed her, looking into her eyes. "I know what's going
on inside you."
The young girl stood obediently, trembling, her eyes wide in disbelief as
the priest untied her undergarment, pulled the material down in back and
in front so that it lay in a ring around the top of her young legs, then
tucked two big fingers between her naked thighs and pressed them up against
her girlhood.
"Oh, Father?" the girl gasped in complete surprise. "Father, what are you
doing?"
"I know what the source of your problem is," the priest said, feeling her
body jerk involuntarily in response to the movement of his fingers between
her young thighs. "Don't try to hide it from me."
"Oh, Oh, please father," the girl gasped as her body responded to him, trembling
gently. "You shouldn't."
"We shall see about that," he said. "Don't fight it. Let it come."
He watched her eyes close as his fingers found the rhythm that worked for
her. He let go of her wrist and watched it fall to her side. With his right
hand now free, he moved it across her chest, finding nothing of shape. His
fingers quickly undid the buttons on her frock, from her neck to her waist,
and pulled the material open to see the flat chest and tiny pink nipples
of a child. His hand then quickly lifted the bottom of her smock up so he
could watch his fingers play between her thighs and see her down there.
She was hairless, soft, tiny, and not opened up at all.
His eyes traveled up her naked chest to look into her face. He watched her
and felt her respond to his practiced fingers, as she brazenly pumped her
hips in time with the rhythm of his caresses between her thighs. He honestly
did not believe he had ever seen it in one so young. But here it was in front
of him, the erotic awakening of the hungry heart of a blossoming, fertile,
young woman, burning brightly in the soft, undeveloped, unprepared body of
a very beautiful, very young, girl.
It was understandable that her parents had been unable to control it, or
even to understand it, and it was good that they brought her to him.
Moving quickly, the priest knelt down on the floor in front of her, pulled
her frock down and off, pushed her undergarments down, and bade her step
out of them, which the girl did willingly.
He pushed her naked to her knees, put her underpants on her head, pulled
them down so that they covered her eyes, and lay her down on the thick carpet.
"Father?" she asked nervously. "What are you going to do?"
"Don't worry child," he said, calming her, as he positioned her young body
on the floor beside him, her head facing his lap. "I am fulfilling a promise
to your parents and seeing to your education."
Very quickly, the priest flipped up the material of his robe with one hand
as he resumed his gentle massage of her girlhood with the other. He undid
the slip tie on his own undergarments and pulled them open, freeing himself.
He turned onto his side to face her, watching and feeling her eager body
respond once more to his deft fingers between her thighs, bringing her quickly
back to arousal.
Looking down he saw her young mouth slightly open, gasping. Such a pretty
little mouth. He inched himself forward, closer, then very gently, he touched
her young lips with the very tip, watching her jerk at the surprise contact.
"Don't be shy child," he reassured her. "You will learn to love this. Touch
it now. Kiss it."
The priest gently pushed his big head forward once more, and watched it swell
as she obediently pursed her lips and kissed it for him.
"That's it child," he said softly, applying a very subtle pressure to the
back of her head with his hand. "Now open up. Come on, open up."
The priest smiled as he watched the young girl gasp and part her lips for
him. He applied a little more pressure to the back of her head and very gently
pushed his hips slightly forward, clearly indicating his intention. She gasped
once more and opened her mouth.
"Wider now," he coaxed her. "Open up there child."
Moving a fraction of an inch at a time, the old priest maneuvered more and
more of the head of his big hard cock into the beautiful little mouth of
the 11-year-old child, until finally it popped inside and lay there embraced
in soft, wet warmth, the girl's lips wrapped tightly in a big wide circle
around the top of his hard shaft.
If Father Ramirez had one lusty passion in the bag of faults that all men
carry with them, it was that he absolutely loved to watch the head of his
cock disappear into the willing, open mouth of a girl child. How many times
had he watched it happen? How many of those little brown girls of the forest
had tasted his manhood, and felt it swell up big and hard inside their mouths?
How many of them, in their eagerness to please him, had looked passively
and contentedly up into his eyes as they sucked his big cock for him? He
couldn't even begin to guess. But it never ceased to amaze him how easy and
uncomplicated of a task it was to accomplish.
There was something special about this one though. The very beautiful, very
naked, soft white, cultured child of a colonist, with the lovely face and
undeveloped body of a little girl, and the burning passions of a little vixen
in heat. As he looked down at her face, at her lovely and graceful lips open
wide for him, wrapped in a big O around the top of his shaft, the head of
his cock swelled up inside her mouth, prompting a muffled whimper from her.
"There you go," he said softly as his fingers worked their magic between
her thighs, causing her nostrils to flare, and soft whimpers to escape from
her throat. "Now you need to suck it child. You are going to take my nectar.
You are going to suck it from me like it is your mother's milk. And it will
be your salvation child."
He watched the naked little raven-haired beauty tremble as she listened to
his words. He smiled as he saw her pull in her cheeks and suck obediently
on the head of his big cock, as his fingers continued to play with the soft
lips and tiny nub of her little girlhood, expertly bringing on her rising
passions.
With his free hand, the old priest reached down to the hard shaft of his
cock, pumping it, bringing himself along.
He could sense it building her, feeling her moving in a telltale rhythm,
her young hips pumping lightly, rubbing herself over his fingers, her little
mouth sucking on him, her body jerking involuntarily. He worked on her, his
fingers flirting with her arousal, nurturing it, making her whimper softly.
He timed it perfectly. Just as her body vibrated in the first wave of her
release, he let go of his big cock, held her head tight and pumped the first
burst of his hot nectar into her young mouth, spraying the back of her throat.
He watched her jump in surprise, and then react instinctively, swallowing
just in time to accept another spray of hot cum from his big cock into her
little mouth.
Her release overtook her like a freight train as she quickly swallowed again,
so that by time he was pumping his third hot flush of cum into her mouth,
she was breathing in through her nose and applying a full suck on the head
of his cock. His hot fluid exploded into her mouth, almost overcoming her.
One little drop managed to squeeze out around the tight seal of her lips
on his shaft, but she took the rest, and swallowed it, moaning loudly as
her body shook in the final throes of her own release.
The priest sighed and pulled his softening organ from her mouth, letting
her lay back on the floor. She was still trembling.
"Thank you Father," the girl whispered.
"Now I think we understand each other, yes?" the priest asked her.
"Yes Father," she answered softly.
"Good," he replied. "Now you must pay more attention to your studies, and
learn to follow the wisdom of your parents. Do you understand?"
"Yes Father," she answered.
"And I will continue to give you what you need to keep this thing burning
inside you under control," he added.
"Yes Father," she said, her young tongue coming out to find the salty wetness
on her lips where the one little drop of his cum escaped from her mouth.
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