Your eyes are looking down, your face hidden behind your curls. I lift your face softly and kiss your lips. I whisper in your ear, "You have been bad..." I feel your knees buckle as you slump against me before regaining composure. I know you are instantly aroused by the knowledge you will be punished but are wondering how the act will manifest itself. I grab your hair in my hand and tighten my grip, applying enough pressure to give you a tingle in the scalp and to let you know that struggle is. The minister, we learned, took a light rig when he went out to the smaller churches in his parish and lived with various of his fellow believers.Finding that he would return in a day to preach at the stone church on Sunday, we visited the nearby tavern and enjoyed some good ale and pleasant company, although all the local trollops were busy with their regulars, a typical Saturday. Sunday morning, we cleaned ourselves up and went to church, perhaps the only time I did so during the whole war.. More

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