“You’ve been a very wicked boy, Brother Francis,” Nanny Ashtoreth chides in a soft tenor.
She spanks the bare flesh of Brother Francis’s plump bottom with sharp swats of her open palm. The gardener is laid out across the her lap, shifting uncomfortably. His trousers and pants are puddled on the floor atop his shoes and tartan socks. The nanny had clicked her tongue at his failure to neatly fold the clothing, adding it to her mental punishment tally.
It’s a sound spanking, brisk slaps echoing loudly in the room. Each smack a blossom of warm, stinging pain. Brother Francis’s cock, already rigid, is trapped between his stomach and Ashtoreth’s rough wool skirt.
“I saw you leering at me this afternoon, you rogue!” She lectures, slowing her pace but still delivering a burning spank now and then for emphasis. “You just couldn’t help but stare while I was bending over to pick up toys in the garden, could you? You vile little lecher!”
Nanny spanks the lower, fleshy curve of the gardener’s ample buttocks, and he kicks his legs out, pushing against the floor in an attempt to dive over and off.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Nanny Ashtoreth easily repositions them and lands a tremendous smack right in the middle of his bottom. “We aren’t nearly finished. You’ve been such a naughty boy! You thought you’d get a nice peek at my backside, didn’t you? Well, turnabout is fair play. Now I’m the one getting a full view at your naughty bare bum!”
The gardener's pale bottom reddens quickly under the attention of her hand. He’s panting, sweating, writhing. The skin of his backside hot and tingling. Each spank thrumming through his body. With every spank, his cock is scraped against the coarse fabric with a spark of pleasure-pain.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” She asks.
“I’m sorry!” Brother Francis gasps. He’s twisting his hips in a futile attempt to escape the continued onslaught of ruthless smacks. Nanny Ashtoreth never misses the target. “I didn’t mean nothing by it, Ma’am! I swear!”
“Oooh, what a nasty, foul little beast you are! What do you deserve, Brother Francis?”
“To be punished, Ma’am!”
“That’s right, Brother Francis. And how should dirty, sinful boys be spanked?”
“On their bare bottoms!” he squeaks out.
Nanny hums, pleased with his answer. But she doesn’t relent, continuing to spank every inch of the naughty gardener’s bottom over and over.
“My goodness, Brother Francis, just look at how your bottom wobbles when I spank it! Have you been sneaking into the biscuit tin after everyone’s in bed, you greedy little thing?”
“No, Nanny Ashtoreth!”
“I’ll need to keep an eye out. Should I catch you at it, I’ll take a wooden spoon to your bottom right there in the kitchen!”
As if to demonstrate that promise, she spanks harder. She even directs some of those extra hard spanks to the vulnerable backs of his thighs! Brother Francis wails and drums his feet in complaint.
After his entire backside is a nice cherry red, Nanny pauses. She gently rubs her soft hand over the good Brother’s enflamed buttocks. He whimpers in protest when she pulls his right cheek to the side, spreading him open.
“Why, Brother Francis, it looks like your naughty little crease is still all white. We can’t have that . . . ”
Using one hand to spread his buttocks apart, Nanny Ashtoreth spanks along the tender skin on both sides of his anus. The poor gardener stiffens and squeals throughout her evil thoroughness. She even stretches him extra wide and lands several sharp pops right on his arsehole! Oh, how he shrieks at that!
“Brother Francis,” Nanny says, voice scandalized. “I do believe your nasty little cock is leaking all over my good skirt!”
He whimpers, desperate now. “Please . . . ”
Nanny Ashtoreth shakes her head. “I suppose such a willful little boy can’t be cured of his wanton desires from only one good spanking. Very well, go ahead then.”
With much relief, Brother Francis grinds his cock against her thigh, the reddened flesh of his hefty bottom quivering as he humps himself off over her lap. He achieves a delightfully painful chafing rub, chasing his orgasm with lewd grunts and moans. She begins to spank him again, for good measure.
“You really are a little beast! You deserve to be spanked like this every day, don’t you, Brother Francis? Then every time you look my way and start to imagine what’s up my skirt – ” her voice lowers a pitch, sultry and suggestive, “wondering whether I’m wearing any knickers or if my cunny is nice and wet – then your sore bottom will remind you to stop those lustful thoughts right in their tracks!”
The good brother’s mouth falls open with a shameless moan and he spills all over her good skirt.
“Filthy,” she whispers, smiling. "My filthy little beast."