Latin Submission Read online

  'But you said to me you weren't a porteña.'

  'Ah, the pleasure and the pain. Maybe I'm more porteña than I told you. Maybe, Jonathan, like most of the city's inhabitants, I have a taste for the hypocrisy.'

  We both laughed easily.

  Andrea began to tell me about her childhood, speaking mainly in English, but occasionally she would slip back into her native language, making sure I had fully understood every detail that she related.

  'I told you I came from Cordoba: that is where my parents lived and where I grew up. But when I was fifteen I was sent away to a boarding school in the countryside, a very religious school run by nuns and priests. It was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles and miles of pampas.

  'At first I was terrified. The place was run like a prison. It was hundreds of years old, founded by some Christian brothers, although our teachers no longer knew what the meaning of Christianity was. They were cruel and heartless. Most of the girls there were orphans or they were abandoned. The priests and nuns could do whatever they wanted to them.

  'Every morning I had to get up at daybreak for matins, and after I would have to scrub and clean the cloisters before our school day began properly. We could be punished for anything: if our shoes were not polished, if a button was missing on our tunic, if our dormitory was untidy in the slightest way.'

  'Why did your parents send you there?' I asked, curious that Andrea, who had spoken kindly about her family, should have endured such a draconian adolescence.

  'It was a terrible time in Argentina. My parents had to flee the country for their lives. They left me in the charge of my uncle. They had no choice. He sent me to that horrible place. Being such a pious man, he thought I needed a religious education. He also thought it a way of hiding me away. Coward that he was, he did not want to be associated in any way with his sister or her husband while the military were still in power. He even changed my name, my papers, everything. Once I was there, and feeling he had done his Christian duty by his sister, he could completely ignore me. He never even wrote me. So, thanks to him, I was in exactly the same position as most of the other girls.

  'At first I hated that place. I rebelled, of course, but it was futile. They locked me in a dark room for a day; they beat me with a cane across my hand. So I behaved better. I could only tolerate my suffering because I knew that one day my parents would come back and take me away and I would leave the treacherous school forever.'

  Looking at her, I would never have imagined that the beautiful woman had suffered so much.

  'In the afternoon they would bring the bad girls into the school assembly to cane them before our eyes, as an example, to make us behave in the way that they wanted. We would all sit in rows: two hundred girls in neat navy blue uniforms, our eyes transfixed on the small raised stage where our teachers sat waiting for the girls to be called for their punishment.

  'Some girls could not stand to watch; they would shut their eyes tight and wait until the ordeal was over. But this could be worse, because inattentiveness was a crime, too, and any girl that did not watch could be summoned to the stage for a thrashing. I would glance around when the caning started and watch the terrified girls flinch with every cruel stroke of the cane, their mouths twisting in fear and disgust.

  'And then one day there was a new head teacher, a middle-aged priest, a cold distant man that nobody liked, not even the other teachers. He was cruel, very cruel. He was also handsome. Very virile-looking, very strong, with thick grey hair and beautiful blue eyes. You would never think that a man who looked like that could be so merciless.

  'The headmaster was responsible for disciplining us. I am sure that the other priests enjoyed caning the older girls too, but this priest, Father Stefano, loved it. You could see how he watched them; his eyes would widen and brighten when he brought the rod down hard, much harder than the others.

  'The girls tried not to scream but the pain was always too much. They could not help it, but the more they cried, the more he hit them. By the time he was finished, his face would be red and his breathing heavy. I could see from his eyes that he would like to hurt these girls more; he always seemed disappointed when there was nobody left for him to thrash.

  'I must have been about seventeen when he came to the school. Seeing such pleasure in his eyes made me very curious. There was a dramatic change in my attitude: I realised that it excited me to watch the girls being caned on the stage, to watch the priest lift the long stick above his head, to hear the swish through the air. I started to look forward to it. I felt my heart beat with each stroke; my skin would prickle as I listened to the muffled sobs of the supposed guilty, their hands raised straight to shoulder level, trembling in fear.

  'He began to obsess me. I would do bad things just to be one of the girls to be caned by him, but it was never enough. However hard I was caned, I craved more. I couldn't sleep at nights for thinking about Father Stefano, dreaming of his strong firm hands on my tender body, imagining the subtle and unsubtle ways he could punish me. Eventually I could bear it no longer: I devised a plan.

  'On Thursday evenings he heard confessions until eight o'clock. I made sure I was the last girl to go into him. I remember how my heart throbbed in my chest as I waited to see him. My palms were slicked with sweat and there was a terrible mingling of excitement and fear as I entered the confessional.

  'I said, "Father, I cannot fight my lust. I masturbate, Father. Every night when the others are asleep in the dormitory, I masturbate and masturbate. I have terrible dreams. I dream of men touching me. I dream of touching men. What can I do? I crave their flesh, their touch, their love!" I couldn't make out his face through the metal grill, but I could imagine his lascivious eyes boring into me.

  '"And how do you touch these men in your sinful dreams, Andrea?" he asked.

  '"I touch them between the legs, on their penna. I go down on my knees and lick them with my tongue. I kiss them, Father." I don't know why I said this, exactly. I suppose, because I had a good imagination and it was the most sinful thing that I could think of.

  '"And who are these men?" he asked.

  '"I don't know how to say this, Father - but it is you, Father, that I dream about. I cannot stop it. I dream of kissing you, there, Father."

  'I don't think the priest knew exactly what to do. He was not used to girls talking to him like this; confessions in the school were compulsory, but confessionals were rarely repositories of honesty. For a seventeen-year-old girl to confess that she masturbated about him must have excited the priest very much. I continued, "I think I must be punished, Father. I want to be punished, to make my soul pure for God."

  'There was a painfully long silence. He perfunctorily went through the process of advising me to think only pure thoughts; then, in mumbled Latin, he said the prayer of absolution.

  'When he was finished, I asked him: "And my penance, Father? What should my penance be?"

  '"Andrea, you must wait by my door," he said.

  'He took me to his little room. There was nothing much inside: a metal bed, a small desk, an oak wardrobe and two wooden chairs. A sacred heart picture hung on the wall above the headboard. It was a matter of pride that even the headmaster lived humbly.

  'At seventeen I was already very beautiful. My legs were long and slender, my breasts were big and firm. He examined me under the fading dusk light, his eyes roamed my body as I had seen him do a hundred times before when he was up on the stage, gently tapping a cane in his hand, anticipating his sadistic pleasure.

  'He placed the two chairs in the centre of the room, back to back, so they were half a metre apart. "You were right, girl, to come to me. We must drive the devil from your soul. I am going to punish you very hard to purge your evil mind of its sins. Now kneel on the chair."

  'I knelt as he instructed, resting my hands on the seat of the other chair. My back was now perfectly horizontal. I was facing the s
mall latticed window looking out onto the empty darkness of the sky. I turned my head to see him fetch the long wooden cane from behind the wardrobe.

  'He stood behind me, tapping the cane to his palm, taking in the view of my teenage body. What a wonderful sight I must have been for him! I wear a navy blue blouse over a white vest and a matching navy blue school skirt, my bottom pushing out the flimsy fabric.

  'He walk up to me and roughly lifted my skirt until it hung from around my waist. I was wearing little cotton panties. I hear his heavy breathing beside me, and smell a faint trace of communion wine on his lips. He was shaking a little. My panties were already wet. My heart was beating. I wanted him to start. The anticipation was good.

  'Suddenly he tugged my panties down my thighs. I felt his callused hands clasping my bottom as he crouched down, pulling the cheeks of my buttocks apart so he could look at the tiny hole of my anus.

  'He stood up. I hear the noise of the cane as he bent it between his strong hands, then swished it through the air. I was so wet. I was dying for my punishment. I hear another swish as he raised the cane behind him and brought it down onto my bare bottom with all the force he could muster.

  'It was such a beautiful feeling, that first sharp sting of pain sending my flesh tingling, the pain receding, then the swish of the cane in the air again and the hard clear sting as he tanned me again. It was so exhilarating to feel this cruel man's power, to submit to his iron will, to know that he could do anything he want with my body.

  'I did not make a sound, my teeth gritting, savouring every stroke on my naked flesh. Stroke followed stroke until the pain was so unbearable I thought that I was going to faint.

  '"Now, my wicked girl, we must cleanse your evil mouth. You must suffer for your sins," he said, his breathing heavy with his exertions.

  '"Yes, Father," I humbly replied as he stood in front of me, his crotch half a metre from my eyes. He unbuttoned his trousers to expose a huge erection, and took the thick rod in his hand.

  '"Do you know what to do, girl? You must take it in your mouth." He pulled down the foreskin to reveal his smooth dome and, holding my nape of the neck, he pushed his whole penis into my mouth. He was big - very big - and I was frightened that I would not be able to take it all, but he pushed into me, rocking my head back and forward. He did it harder and harder until I felt his creamy seed shoot inside my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. He held my head there until I had swallowed every drop.

  '"If you feel sinful again, you must come to me without delay," he said as he buttoned up his trousers.

  '"Father," I said, "there are others who need to be punished in the same way. I see them looking at you with lust. They should be thrashed, too." I could see his eyes light up as I spoke.

  '"You must bring them to me, then," he answered, "but remember, do not speak of your special punishment to anyone else, because then you are in danger of committing the sin of pride. Now go, Andrea."

  'The next assembly, my eyes scanned the hall, looking for girls as excited by what they saw as I had been. Lucila was the first. I recognised in her eyes the same intense passion, the same burning curiosity.

  'Lucila was a raven-haired beauty with a wonderful figure. She was my age, although she looked a little younger. To her friends she was kindness personified. Her teachers had never known such an obedient girl; but I could see that behind her innocent smile there was something darker, more complicated. I had seen how the bud of her mouth opened as she watched every stroke of the cane, how her trance-like eyes stared at the cruel priest.

  'After assembly finished I found her in her room and told her that Father Stefano wanted to see her after Sunday benediction, although I did not say why. She looked very worried but, behind her anxiety, I thought I could detect a certain raw excitement. I, myself, was elated to have my first victim.

  'The priest was waiting for us when we arrive the following Sunday, only this time there were three chairs in centre of the room. Father Stefano command us to sit down. He sat facing us.

  '"Lucila, I have heard stories about you," the priest began. Lucila looked shocked. Her eyes momentarily glanced into mine, sensing that I had in some way betrayed her. How lovely to meet those gorgeous brown eyes so startled by my trickery!

  '"What stories, Father Stefano?" Lucila ask in a wonderful imitation of innocence.

  '"Stories of sinfulness, of impure thoughts, of lust."

  '"I don't know what you mean, Father. I don't know who has told you..." She look at me again, this time imploringly. I could see she was starting to panic. In all the time that I had been in school, I had never known her get into trouble for anything.

  '"Never mind who has spoken to me. I want to know if you have impure thoughts," the priest continued, his voice hard, developing a cruel edge. I watched Lucila's ample chest trembling in fear.

  '"I never have any impure thoughts, Father," the girl said, her eyes pleading with the cleric.

  '"Don't lie to me, girl. It will be worse for you if you lie." The voice was so masterful, so callous. Father Stefano would have made a wonderful inquisitor. I could see Lucila's enormous brown eyes moistening. "Now, do you have any impure thoughts, thoughts about your body, about the sins of the flesh, about men or boys? Tell me the truth!" he continued, confusing her further by gently taking her perspiring hand in his own.

  'Lucila was weakening. She knew she have to say something. "Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a husband when I am older."

  '"Why?" the priest asked.

  '"To have children, to share my life with."

  '"To touch you?"

  '"To share..."

  '"To touch you?" he almost shouted at her. Lucila's voice were as moist as her eyes. Father Stefano was so intimidating, Lucila was so desperately frightened of him.

  '"Yes, Father..." The girl was on the verge of breaking down.

  '"To touch you where?" Lucila sat in front of the priest, her eyes looking downward. The priest lifted up her chin so she had to look into his face. "To touch you here?" Father Stefano asked, placing his firm hand on her tender breast, squeezing hard through the cotton of her blouse. "Or here?" He moved his hand lower down onto the seat of her chair, his palm disappearing under her skirt, making her jolt upright. Her hands were shaking with fear. "Tell me," he bellowed at her. "Tell me!"

  '"Yes, Father; yes," she said. She would have said anything to appease Father Stefano, so terrified was she of his cruel power. Lucila had no family. Her whole childhood had been spent in the school; the place was her life, her family, and it had formed in her an unquestioning obedience. She began to sob pitifully, burying her tears in her trembling hands.

  '"So you lie to me. You do have impure thoughts - and for that, Lucila, you must be punished. Stand up!" he order.

  'She stood up, pitifully whimpering, her whole body shaking in fear.

  '"Kneel on the chair!" he order again.

  'She stumbled onto the chair. Knowing what was going to happen, I also stood and placed the two chairs in the same position as before, as the priest cast his lusting eyes over Lucila's lovely body. Father Stefano let me organise Lucila so her bottom perched up on one chair and her hands rested on the seat of the other.

  'Lucila was so submissive, completely unresisting, her sad eyes brimming with tears. How delicious it was going to be watching Lucila not only try to withstand her fear and the pain that she was undoubtedly going to feel, but to resist the unwanted pleasure that her pain was going to bring her.

  'I stood behind the girl and witnessed the same ritual as I had experienced only a few days before. I see Father Stefano pull up the navy skirt, pull down the little cotton panties and then separate the cheeks of her bottom and stare at Lucila's anus. Only, this time, I could see his leering eyes as they feast on the tiny aperture in the centre of her wonderful bottom. I could watch Father Stefano as he retrieved the cane from behind the
wardrobe, swish it in the air, roughly move me aside and then bring it down across her rear. I see Lucila flinching with the exquisite pain, the flesh of her buttocks rippling with the stroke.

  'After several lashes he passed the cane to me, and told me to continue. Then he stood in front of the poor girl.

  '"Now, Lucila, your mouth must be purified." He undid his trousers and placed his huge penis between the girl's reluctant lips, at the same time pulling her navy blue blouse out from the waistband of her skirt and grabbing her nipples in both hands. He pinched them so hard that Lucila shrieked.

  'He looked at me, annoyed that I had not continued his ministrations. I brought the cane back as far as my outstretched arm could reach, before lashing the girl as hard as I can, her bottom already lined with the red marks of the priest's thrashing. As the cane landed on her bottom, the priest cruelly nipped the pinpoints of her breast, so the pain caused must have been very intense. I cannot tell you how excited I was at that moment, watching Lucila's reddened bottom, the jerking and twisting of her body, the rhythmic bobbing of her head.

  'I hit her again and again as the priest came to his climax, now pressing the submissive girl's head further onto his pole until, with a violent jerk, he ejaculated, his seed gushing into her mouth. I continued to whack her with the cane, as I hear Lucila gurgling on the stiff tool.

  'Slowly, Father Stefano withdrew his rod from her mouth and, as her face turned sideways as she gasped for air, I could see his seed dribbling down from her lip. Lucila was beyond tears. The cleric commanded the meek girl to stay exactly in the same position while he came to stand behind her, pushing me aside again as he did.