For A Few Dollars More... (RI & Hahvoc)

Our Holy Mother of the All Saints High sat in a hollow, falling off from the road into what had once been a pleasant meadow all covered with daisies. Now there's a parking lot, filled with vehicles and buses, with a rather massive school seated back from it. Rising gothic architecture adorned with crosses, stained glass windows, and, above the entryway, Jesus on the cross, looking down with a smile upon all who passed through those doors. The bell had just rung, ending the final period, and students were rushing to their buses or milling about, waiting for friends or other modes of transportation to take them home.

The Principal's Office took up the entirety of the top third floor. Large and spacious, it also hosted the faculty lounge, though it lay empty. Teachers typically wanted to leave as fast as students did. Outside the office proper, adjacent to the lounge, a rather severe woman typing neatly away at a keyboard was just finishing up her work. The intercom upon her desk buzzed, and she reached to press the button labeled 'talk'.

"Yes, Father Alistair?"

"Please inform Sister McKay to report to my office. Then you may leave."

"Yes, Father Alistair."

Father Alec Alistair watched as the secretary went to fetch the teacher, a slight smile forming on his dark pink lips. It had been years since he had actually exercised the "Father" in his title, having left his congregation to take the post of principal here, and it was fair to say that he had fallen from grace. It was too tempting to take advantage of his position, given the uniforms the girls were required to wear here. Still, he had only done so in extreme circumstances, such as the one that lay upon his desk now.

Rising from his seat, he planted his powerful, large hands on either side of the manila envelope. His frock was slightly wrinkled, the black fading into a dull gray. Salt-and-pepper hair framed his face, hanging down to his shoulders, which he swatted out of his hazel eyes, studying the pictures. Though thirty years of age, he still held the powerful build of his youth, though it had gone slightly to seed; broad shoulders slightly drooped, muscles not quite as firm, six-pack abs starting to drift. Still physically fit, but not as fit as he could be.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sister McKay, you have been very naughty."

Tucking the pictures back into the envelope, Father Alistair threw the envelope into the left-hand drawer and took his seat once more, awaiting the arrival of his next morsel.

"Come in and close the door behind you," Father Alistair said, sitting upright in the chair and adjusting the collar of the frock. It felt like a noose sometimes - usually right before he sinned. There was something to that, he thought briefly. Rising from the seat, placing both hands upon the desk again to assist his ascent, his eyes moved casually across Sister McKay's body. Oh, yes.

He gestured to the high-backed, stiff seat that sat on the opposite side of the large mahogany desk. "Have a seat, Sister. We have much to discuss, and you should be comfortable." The left corner of his lips lifted in a faint smile, a smile that had, at one time, been reassuring, but now only spoke of lechery, as the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

His eyes drifted across her legs as they crossed, the half-smile growing slightly as he did so. Moving his eyes back up along her body, and finally to her face, he lifted his hands from the desk and moved around to the side, facing her at a diagonal, one hand resting atop the desk scant inches from the drawer that held the envelope.

"Would you say that you are devout, Sister?" he asked in the Preacher voice - a low, smooth voice that held the power to enrapture an entire congregation. "Would you say you uphold the values that we try to instill in the students that come through your classroom?"

"I beg to differ, Sister McKay."

The hand slid off the desk, opened the drawer and secured the envelope. He tossed the brown envelope onto the desk, the pictures within tumbling to the opening. A single finger slid one picture out, a rather professional-looking picture that showed her on her knees in an alley in front of a large man. Setting that picture to the side, he drew another out, this one of her with her back against the wall, skirt hiked up. That one went to the opposite side of the folder. And another, and another, and another. Each one showing a more lewd position than the last.

"As do these pictures," he finally stated, fixing his eyes upon hers. "What do you propose we do about this, Sister?"

"I only want to know why you felt you couldn't come to me with this, Sister," the Father said as he eased down into his seat. Hands clasped together atop the desk, his eyes were fixed firmly upon her face now, his own severe, yet friendly, comforting. The face of a priest taking confession.

"Why didn't you come to me if you were having money problems, my child, rather than subjecting yourself to this? You know I am here to help my flock." His lips curved into a slow smile, washing the lecherousness from his face, making him look a little younger. "You could have appealed to me for help."

"Very well. Unless you want these pictures," his hand drifted out to indicate them once more, "to become public knowledge, then you will report to this office at 9 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning, Sister McKay." Gone was the friendly smile, gone was the preacher face. His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke, his body stiffened, his voice becoming authoritative.

"Don't be even one minute late. You're dismissed." With that, he began to gather up the pictures and put them back in the envelope, not even sparing a glance at her as he replaced the envelope in the drawer, closing it and turning the key to lock it, placing the key in his pocket.

A low chuckle went through his throat as the door slammed. Oh, he was going to have fun with her. As the office actually doubled as a living space - and since he typically only went home on weekends that didn't have anything scheduled, as it was more than two hours away - the Father shaved, bathed, and readied the office for the next day. Oh, yes, he was going to have a great deal of fun with her.

"Come in," he answered in reply to the knock.

The office had changed, somewhat. The curtains were drawn over the windows, creating a muted, yellow light that drifted through the office. The desk was clear of all papers, lamp, even his nameplate, showing the dark-stained mahogany top that had several long scratches in it. Heavy steel rings, typically hidden by the light cover, were set into each corner of the desk's top, as well as the two front bottom corners.

He sat in the chair behind the desk, dressed in the faded frock as always, his salt-and-pepper hair combed back severely. His eyes studied her as she entered, his face set into a neutral expression. One hand drifted out from the clasp before his chest, pointing at a spot before the desk, where the high-backed, stiff chair had once sat.

"Stand there and remove your overgarments, and place them on the top of my desk, if you please, Sister McKay." His voice soft, commanding.

His hand settled upon the top of the garments that were laid upon his desk, dropping them into the same drawer that contained the manila envelope. He didn't close it just yet, his eyes admiring her body, his tongue darting out across his lips for a brief moment - a singular sign of lust, desire, that melted away back into the expressionless mask. Another had formed in the severe black breeches, but it was hidden beneath the desk for now.

His hand raised, making a slow, circular motion. "Turn in a circle. Slowly. Let me see all of you, Selene." Already, his mind raced through the several things he could do to her in the singular hour they had, but his amusement would come most from when he sent her back off to teach her class.

His eyes followed the curves of her body as she turned, drawing in a slow, silent breath through his teeth. None of the students that passed through his office had quite ripe bodies such as this, lush figures that he wanted to sink his fingers, teeth and lash into so strongly. His face had returned to the mask by the time she finished turning, using one hand to lightly stroke his chin as he studied her.

"Since you've only a little time before your class begins, we won't get much done this morning. Remove your panties and give them to me, Selene, and then come right here." He scooted the rolling chair back slightly, pointing to a spot just beneath the desk that would force her onto her knees.

His eyes followed her every movement, though the rest of him didn't move in the slightest as he watched her display. It would have been unprofessional to reach out and smack her exposed ass when she bent over, after all. He took the panties from her with a slight nod, allowing a smirk to dance across his lips. Spirited. It'd be fun to break her of that, but that would come later.

With the panties in hand, he pulled open a separate drawer, right beneath the one holding her clothes, and dropped them into it. He wouldn't be giving those back to her, unlike the rest of her clothes. He had something much more splendid in mind to go beneath her skirt.

As she settled down beneath the desk, he rolled the chair until he was right in front of her. "We'll start off simple," he said simply. With this position, she was mostly hidden beneath the desk, concealed by the back of the desk and his body. One hand drifted down to unclasp the single button holding his pants together, tugging them downward along with the black boxers beneath, freeing his manhood from its painful confinement. It jumped into the air, erect and thick, the head of it bumping against her nose on its way up. Uncut, the engorged purple head at the end of the eight inch length glistened slightly with moisture.

"I'm sure you've been in this position before, Sister McKay. You know precisely what is expected of you."

His lips curved in a slow smile, his eyes moving downward to watch her. One hand extended, fingers sliding into her hair, curling slightly within her hair as she began her teasing against his cock. He said nothing about the method she used, his shaft slowly twitching, throbbing against her tongue as she teased it. His breathing became audible, however, and he believed her claims that she'd been doing it for years. She was excellent at it, much better than he'd had in quite some time.

The fingers in her hair tightened as it went on, still saying nothing, letting her take her time. The ordering would come later - once she was thoroughly engrossed in her work.

His fingers tightened hard in her hair as her mouth closed around the head, lips parting in a brief, muted groan at the feeling of the warmth of her mouth enveloping him, sending jolts straight up his spine. He strangled the urge to buck his hips to get him deeper inside her as she moved down along his length, again, allowing her to take her time and get into it.

Her tongue sent electric coursing through his body, and she was rewarded with another soft moan as she enveloped him completely, his shaft twitching slightly inside of her mouth, the heavy veins running through the base pulsing hungrily. He fully intended to make her work for this; while the guys who paid her for the same service were probably just looking to get off, he was looking for more. She'd have to use all of her skill over the course of the hour to finish him.