Hi all!

This is a oneshot porny excuse to avoid a term paper featuring priest!Cas (with some personality traits from Levi!Cas and God!Cas) and human!Meg where Meg is a student at a Catholic School and Father Novack needs to teach her a lesson.

Feedback appreciated, also I have another account where I post actual stories as opposed to oneshot smut so if you want to check it out message me.

Thanks!

Miss Meg Masters was held up in detention ... again. Today she had clicked her pen too loudly, scoffed at Father Novack's dedication to Hamlet, and forgot her homework on the bus. As punishment, she stayed after class an hour late, copying words from the dictionary to her notebook. Father Novack sat at his desk, glasses perched at the end of his nose, going through paperwork and occasionally glancing at his pupil. Meg's eyes darted to the clock, which clicked ever slower the closer to four o'clock it it became.

She caught Father Novack looking at her and she shrank back into her work, blushing and glaring angrily. She had been spending more and more afternoons in this stuffy classroom, however her behavior had never been a problem before. She didn't understand how copying superfluous words from an ancient dictionary would cure her antsy habits, but she knew not to challenge Father Novack's decision. He was a man of little patience, and even less humor. Of late, his tolerance levels had dwindled to single digits, and Meg seemed to be on the receiving end of most - if not all of - his stresses.

She pulled on the sleeves of her sweatshirt, stubbornly avoiding his gaze once more. The clock struck four, the bell rang and Meg almost bolted up to Father Novack's desk. She handed him the notebook.

"Until tomorrow Miss Masters." He said, not looking at her.

"Goodnight, Father Novack." She sneered, bowing her head in a manner mocking respectfulness. Meg turned her heels and matched out the door, heading home.

Father Novack was a jerk, she decided. Granted, copying is not the most terrible sentence ever, but there was something in his eyes when he decided to act on his thoughts. A sort of shallow ... madness. An unpredictability that could turn into something her mother warned her about. She passed the main office, empty as usual. It was a small private school, the staff usually left at 3 with the student body. If the janitors did their job efficiently, they were gone by 3:30. Yep, you were only here this late if you were in detention. Which was usually just her and sometimes this kid Crowley in 5th grade who had a thing for fire. Father Novack was also the detention officer. Whatever, it was a small school, each teacher had two duties.

It hadn't gone unnoticed that she was - more often then not - the only one in Father Novack's detentions. That his eyes lingered on her generous backside when she would sharpen a pencil or go out the door. That she would be called on for answers she didn't know and then humiliated in front of the class. That he deliberately ignored her to irritate her, goad her into her temper. Not only was she too embarrassed to report it, but she also had no proof to her discomfort, nor did it seem that odd. Curvaceous women had to deal with that all the time, right? She was just growing into her body thats all.

The next morning she arrived late. Her mother drove her to school and they got stuck behind a tractor. Needless to say, she was given detention again. At three o'clock she went to Father Novack's classroom, he greeted her and she started copying.

As she started the mindless task, she mused on the Father. He was certainly a very attractive man, trim, wiry, nice face. Maybe 30. His eyes were a beautiful blue, he had dark stubble and his hair stuck up as if he didn't comb it when he got up in the morning. He was deceptively strong, she had witnessed him breaking up more then one serious fights in the lunchroom. He was very smart, he could quote Shakespeare and do trigonometry equations in his head. So why become a priest, and teach at a catholic school in the middle of nowhere?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cleared throat.

"Miss Masters, how versed are you in the student handbook?" asked Father Novack quietly.

"Not very, Father." she admitted.

"I notice that this is the 14th time this semester you have received detention." He looked at his computer pointedly, almost amusedly.

"Is it, sir?"She was almost proud of herself, this did not go unnoticed by the Father.

"Yes" he stared at her, his eyes intense "you'll find in the school rules that, at 15 penalties - teachers are asked to take more drastic tactics in punishment."

"Oh, I didn't know that." she said honestly

"Evidently. I think it would be in your best interests to be on you best behavior for the next two weeks until the semester is over."

"I agree, thanks." she went to return to her work.

"Then you can resume your charming childish antics when you return from winter break."

She couldn't tell if he was making a joke or not, but before she could decide on a response, he was already buried in his books. The rest of the detention passed in silence until four. Meg took her notebook up to father Novack's desk, wished him a good evening and left.

The next day passed without any hiccups, so did the day after that. On Friday morning Meg Masters slept in. Her alarm didn't go off and she ran, out of breath, into class a full hour and a half late. Father Novack closed the book he was reading aloud with a snap, looking angry.

"Detention, Miss Masters. Please take your seat."

"But-"

"Miss Masters."

"It wasn't on purpose!"

"Seat. Now. If you please."

Meg stormed to her desk and slammed her books down. Her classmates ignored her as she settled into her seat mumbling about injustices. Father Novack opened his book and continued reading.

"'Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.-Soft you now!The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remember'd!' Mr. Milligan, what does Hamlet mean when he says this?"

Adam shifted in his seat. "Um. He thinks people who fear death are cowards, and that when you over think your actions they don't carry the original purpose. Also he wants Ophelia to forgive his sins."

"Ah yes, Ophelia." mused Father Novack. He placed the book down and began to pace leisurely in front of the chalk-board. "A wicked temptress. One could argue that she is the sole reason Hamlet did not commit suicide. He says he loved her in a a way that 40,000 people with all their hearts could not, yet to his friends he says man delights not me, nay nor women either. He sends her love letters and then says that she's better suited for a brothel. She, in turn, is obedient to her father, her brother and Hamlet. Laertes. Brother to Ophelia, you'll recall in Act 1 he warns her of intimacy with Hamlet. Is it really for her best interests? After all, a deflowered woman before marriage is damaged goods. However... the words he chooses are so painfully erotic, meant to instill fear upon her - however could it be that he wants her to himself? Miss Masters."

"Yes." she sighed.

"Do you believe that Ophelia's madness is brought on by true obedience, or that the obedience drew out her madness?"

"I believe that she's a fictional character so how should I know if a made up girl didn't even know herself?" Meg shrugged, with a smug look on her face.

Father Novack paused, mid-pace. He fixed her with an intrigued gaze and walked slowly up the isle to her desk, a grin tugging at the corner of his full lips.

"A very insightful answer Miss Masters. However your attitude leaves something to be desired. Would you care to rephrase?"

"Not particularly."

"Perhaps you cannot identify with Ophelia because you have never had to be obedient. I recommend 'The Taming of the Shrew' for your Christmas Break reading list."

There was an 'oooh' from the class and a couple giggles. Meg blushed and settled farther into her seat.

Later, the bell rang for lunch and before Meg could navigate through the swarm Father Novack called her back.

"Miss Masters, a word please."

Meg rolled her eyes, waved to her friends and waltzed back to his desk. He waited until the room was empty to start speaking.

"Miss Masters, why were you late for my class today?"

"I slept in, my alarm didn't go off."

"Why did you challenge me when you walked into class?"

"I felt that the sentence was unfair."

He paused for a moment. Then he stood, walled over to the window and gazed across the grounds lost in thought.

"I am a man of God, Miss Masters. I like to feel connected with him. I see him in myself sometimes. God, a being of great power and knowledge, asks only two things of his children." Father Novack took the meter stick which was holding up the window in his hands, and let the glass pane drop with a solid bang. "Love and obedience." He rolled the ruler between his fingers, looking intently at it, as if it held all the mysteries of the universe.

"Put your hands on my desk, Miss Masters." He ordered.

"Excuse me?"

"Now. Please." Meg placed her palms down on the wood cautiously.

"I haven't had to do this since I taught 2nd graders." Novack muttered to himself.

"Do what?" She asked nervously, eyeing the ruler. He couldn't do what she thought he was about to .

"Lift your skirt."

"Now wait a minute-"

"Now Miss Masters."

"No way, I won't." In one swift movement Father Novack had crossed the room, wound his fist in her hair, forced her flat against the desk and jerked her skirt up to her waist. A sharp slap echoed through the room.

"10"

Smack.

"9"

Smack

"8"

Meg Masters' face burned with humiliation, frozen in complete shock, her eyes watered from pain and embarrassment, and Father Novack didn't skip a beat. His deep voice rumbled remorselessly as he counted down the spanks.

"2"

Smack

"1"

Smack.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Out of the corner of her eye, Meg thought she saw the Father start make a motion, as if to sooth her burning backside with a caress, but he thought better of it. He disentangled his fingers from her hair backed away allowing her to get up. He returned to his desk as if nothing happened. She stood, her spine straight as a pencil, righted her skirt, and stalked out of the room.

"Enjoy your lunch, Miss Masters." he called. She shut the door on him with a sharp snap. Meg ran to the bathroom, locked herself in a stall and held her head in her hands. Her face was burning. How could he? That had to be against school rules. Her ass was on fire, it itched and was so sore she could barely sit. She felt strange, lightheaded. Although it was painful, there was something else she couldn't quite pinpoint. 'Now Miss Masters.' Smack. She relived it in her head. His rough hands in her hair, the feeling. His voice. Her nipples hardened painfully under her blouse. Oh no. She had heard about this. Fetishes. But she was a virgin. How could virgins have fetishes? It didn't seem logical. She mulled this over until the lunch bell rang and everyone went back to class. She walked back in a daze to Father Novack's classroom and thanked God her seat was in the way back.

At the end of the day, she came from Gym at three o'clock, ready to copy the dictionary but Father Novack wasn't there. Relieved, she debated on whether or not to just run home or risk a weeks worth of detention. She decided to wait 5 minutes before going home. After the 5 minutes was up, she collected her books and started for the door but it was opened from the other side while her hand was on the knob.

"Not skipping detention are we, Miss Masters?"

"No, I-"

"Sit." Meg went back to her seat, sitting on her sweatshirt and started copying. Father Novack put down his books and supplies on his desk. The hour passed in silence. Meg couldn't concentrate. She was writhing in conflict - whether to report him - who to report him to - and how to explain that she was held down and spanked at 18 by a priest, without it ruining her life. At the end of the hour, Meg closed her notebook and walked up to his desk where she placed it on the pile in the corner.

"Thank you." he said, not looking up from his work.

Meg gathered up her books in her bag and went to the door.

Except that it was locked.

"Hey, padre."

"Yes?" He said, still immersed n his research.

"Could you unlock the door?"

"Oh, yes of course." He stood up and blocked her escape, literally almost pinning her against the door as he fumbled with the keys. She felt his breath on her neck and repressed a shudder. There was no way she could duck out under his arm without being conspicuous. He still had not unlocked the door, he also seemed to have stopped making efforts to. Suddenly, his hands were on her hips and she was being pulled softly so her back touched his chest. He snaked his arms around her waist and hissed in her ear.

"Today, when I spanked you-"

"Hey-" she squirmed, dropping her bag, trying to loosen his grip - but his hands kept moving and she couldn't get good footing.

"I noticed something."

"Let me go-"

"A little wet spot-"

"Let go of me!"

"Right in the middle of those pretty white panties." She froze.

"So?"

"That got me curious, on whether or not you found the pain pleasurable, the dominance, maybe my appearance? Something to cause that little wet spot." he crooned mercilessly into her ear, his fingers raking across her abdomen. She tried to pry his hands off but he way too strong.

"So I'm going to do a little experiment." He put his weight on her, pressing her into the door. He kissed her neck and held up the key just out of reach. "I'm going to touch you, Miss Masters." he breathed. "I'm going to test you. If you are pure, when I reach into your panties you will be dry as a bone, I will admit I was mistaken, give you the keys and you can go on your merry way." Meg would not have thought it impossible, but he leaned in even closer.

"However if I touch your virgin cunt and you are showing any signs of lust, I will punish you for such a sin." She struggled as hard as she could, kicking and punching but it was no use. "Ah ah ah, and teach you obedience." he added and doubled his force. He grabbed her hair and held her still, then, with agonizing slowness, he slid his hand down her stomach, the valley between her hips and traced his finger delicately at the hem of her skirt. She gulped.

"I'll report you." She gasped through gritted teeth. "I'll report you for harassment and molestation. Let me go and I'll forget the whole thing. I was never here."

He laughed. "No." he whispered and pushed his hand down her skirt. Her breathing became ragged, from fear and possibly a fraction of anticipation. She felt as if her knees would come out from under her. To her horror she felt something hard pressing against her the small of her back, a sizable bulge in the good Father's trousers. She whimpered, he shushed her in a way that would be comforting in any other context. His finger glided down her slit and her heart sank into her stomach. She was in very very very deep trouble. She could feel the chuckle in his chest and he closed any space left between them.
"My my my" he hummed mischievously. "What to do, what to do. You are positively dripping."

He rubbed ferociously without warning. Meg let out a wild gasp, her toes curled in her shoes, to shocked to cry out. He jerked her head back, exposing her neck and grazed his teeth across the delicate flesh. Then stopped just as suddenly as he started. Meg's hands were braced against the door but Father Novack took them both in his hand, forced them behind her back, and with the other, doubled his grip on Meg's hair. He ground his hips into her, breathing heavily. Her breasts were almost painfully smooshed against the hard wood door, she could feel her ribcage with every breath. She tried to get her breathing under control.

"Miss Masters," his lips brushed the sensitive skin behind her ear, "in the next several hours, I will make you gasp," he trailed kisses down her neck with each word "cry, beg, scream, pass out, and" he kissed her shoulder which had somehow been freed from the blouse, and put his cheek against hers, "forget everything but my existence." She felt him grin dangerously against her face, his corse stubble scratching her jaw. "You will lose yourself, and learn total obedience. I promise. I will make you." He squeezed her arms forcefully.

Meg stayed silent, biting her lip against any sounds that might escape. He whipped her around angrily, slamming her back into the door, her arms pinned between them. "From this point on you will only address me as Sir. You will answer me when I ask you a question, honestly and immediately. You will obey me when I order you to do something, without questioning me or challenging me. Do you understand?"

"Yes." she sneered, setting her jaw defiantly. He pulled her hair roughly, jerking her head back.

"Yes, sir." she hissed. He smiled wickedly, his blue eyes flashing as if consumed by flames. Slowly, deliberately, Father Novack traced his fingers up her leg, toyed at the elastic of her panties, and teased her inner thigh. Meg had almost shut down. She had no clever sass to get her out of this, no idea what to do and no hope of being heard in a deserted school building out in the middle of farm land. Father Novack turned her head to she face him, and he watched her expression as he intimately devoured her with his expert fingers.

Her eyes froze open. She was sweating with the effort to remain expressionless, but her furrowed brow and clenching jaw were all the tell he needed. With two fingers he slid the length of her pussy, back and forth, to and fro, slowly building a pressure. He carefully rolled her swollen clit between his thumb and forefinger and she gasped a little before regaining her composure. He quickened the pace, adding figure eights and circles to his pattern but always to and fro. He watched her become more and more tense, her hands involuntarily gripping his shirt for support, he pushed his knee between her legs, forcing them apart.

"You like this?" He said, gliding his nose up her jaw. She shook her head, swallowing hard.

"Speak up." He crooned, nibbling at the space between her jaw and earlobe.

"No, sir." she stammered. He abruptly flipped her again, so she was facing to door, her cheek banged painfully against the hard surface.

"That's a lie, Meg." He hissed. He twisted her breast harshly, scraping the exposed skin with his fingernails. She cried out.

"Shh, hush." He resumed his ministrations to her wet pussy - only this time - he moved much faster. It hurt and burned. She jerked wildly against him but he immobilized her with his weight. "I'm going to make you cum, Meg Masters."

Meg let out a gasp followed by a strangled groan. "I'm going to make you cum over and over until you're just a quibbling puddle on the floor. And when every nerve is alive on your body, when a single touch would send you into an earth shattering orgasm, I'm going to fuck you the living hell out of you." He shoved fingers into her opening hard and strong, flicking her clit with his thumb. He was now completely supporting her weight as she was unable to support her body any longer, pounding her ruthlessly with his digits. Tears rolled down Meg's face. She couldn't get enough air into her lungs between her cries. Something hot and dangerous was building in her belly.

"Stop, please, no, i can't, ha."

"Oh, I'm just getting started." Once again he spun her over, spreading her legs wide and this time she held onto his shirt for dear life. He attacked her gash, his whole arm jerking with the effort. He grabbed her throat, and forced her to look at him. Her eyeliner left dark smudges down her face, her hair was plastered to her face in sweat. And then he slowed, looking at her tenderly, stroking her sex like it was a new born kitten. She tried to get her breath under control as he gently glided his finger in and out of her den, murmuring words of comfort. He rolled her clit with his thumb, kissing her forehead. Soon her breathing became labored.

"Do you like that?" He breathed, kissing her softly on the lips, brushing her hair off her face. She didn't answer so he tightened his grip threateningly on her hair. She shuddered.

"Y-yes." she muttered

"Yes what?" he asked quietly, an animalistic glow coming from somewhere deep in his eyes.

"Yes, s-sir"

"Do you want me to stop?" her hips bucked slightly before she answered.

"No sir."

"You little slut." he grinned. She convulsed around his fingers. He started moving in for the kill, rubbing, rolling, sliding, pushing, soon Meg was downright panting, her breath rolling subtly over her vocal cords.

"Look at me." he ordered.

She did, her mouth open, eyes hooded, unable to do anything, but there was still a rebelliousness in her eyes. They slid to the floor Meg's weight dragging them down. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand. He kissed her neck, collarbone, the hollow of her throat and then her mouth. He began unbuttoning her pressed white shirt, breathing her in, stopping as soon as her bra was exposed. He grasped her left breast, kneading it. She moaned into his mouth, he grinned and nipped at her lower lip. He moved his hand down her body, barely touching her, trailing little patterns.

He turned her over, the cool tile floor giving her goosebumps on the skin it touched and he hiked up her shirt. He pulled the bra strap so it slapped her skin, she cried out. Father Novack loomed over her, grabbing her ass possessively, and licked the length of her spine from the top of her neck to her hips. She gladly suffered beneath him, shuddering. He lay on top of her, grinding his hips against her, reaching around under her bra and caressed both her breasts in his calloused palms. He watched her hands ball up, white at the knuckles against the floor. Her stubborn efforts were amusing to him.

Meg's face was flushed, she couldn't seem to focus on anything except Father Novack and his hands. She felt him shift his weight and pry her legs apart with his knees. Her breathing hitched, his hot breath smelled like honey and vanilla when it blew the hair next to her face.

"Don't be shy Miss Masters." he warned. He slid his hand down across her belly button, hot against her cool flesh and he cupped her twat greedily. She felt her hips rise against her permission to give him access, grinding once against his belt. It did not go unnoticed. He giggled puckishly, pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling and massaging. She cried out. Hot jolts seemed to be coursing through her veins to a steady building force in her belly. Something very big and scary was happening and she did not know how this man was doing it to her. She felt as if her privates had a heartbeat the size of a whale. Everything was so sensitive.

He slid his finger into her, increasing that force. She bucked and spasmed, scratching pathetically against the tile. He clutched her tit, his fingers leaving lines of fire in their wake – he whispered sweet humiliating nothings in her ear, his sweet breath hot on her skin 'You little slut, you like this, don't you?' 'Mewling kitten.' 'You're mine.' 'Does it hurt you? Your pride? That you can be so pathetic as to quiver at the merest brush of my hand?' - his thin fingers causing unbearable pulses and volcanic heat in her neither regions. And then, when she thought it had hit a plateau - she started to moan. Long drawn-out high shaking sounds that she couldn't control, ravaging her throat. She could almost feel the smug triumph radiating out of the man on top of her. He sped up, causing her to rock and twitch against him.

"Do you like this?" he growled, yanking her up against him.

"Yesssiirr aaah." she gasped.

"Do you want me to stop?" he teased, slowing his pace tauntingly.

"No. Sir. Pleeease. Don't. Stahh, stahh." she huffed her breath causing a dull fog on the white tiled floor.

"Say that you're mine." he murmured.

"Sir, please."

"Say it."

"Ohhh I'm yours, sir." her voice caught in her throat.

"Say that you're my little slut." he commanded.

"Ahhm you're. I'm your little. S-s-sllut sirrr."

Suddenly, he pulled back and she found herself sitting - splayed in his lap, unable to close the knees as they were caught around his crossed legs. He crushed her against his chest, bit the base of her neck, twisted her breast violently and ferociously finger fucked her until she was screaming.

"Say you want me!" he growled.

"SIR, AH FATHER PLEASE, AH AHH AHHH!"

Meg felt something break inside of her. She shrieked, rocking, jerking wildly against his grip, crying, gasping, rasping profanities, shuddering and then all the energy in her was gone. She slumped exhausted in Father Novack's arms. He cradled her, murmuring, coaxing out small spasms with his touches and leaving kiss marks over the love bite in her shoulder. They were both still fully dressed. The Father looked impeccable, his shirt was a little wrinkled from her sweaty hands but otherwise gave no indication of the tidal wave he had just caused in the young girl.

Meg however, with her bra-ed breasts bulging out of the top of her half un-buttoned shirt, sweat making it stick semi-see-through to her heaving torso, her red plaid skirt hoisted around her waist, her knee high socks stretched and at odd heights, her hair tousled, matted around her head and her black eye-liner smudged down her cheeks - she looked as if she had barely survived a tidal wave. Her eyes were closed, her breathing heavy and ragged. The Father pinched her clit, she cried out pitiably, doubling over, her ass pressing the bulge in Father Novack's pants. He pulled her back, fondling her breast tenderly in his palm.

Soon Meg's breathing became satisfied and slow. She sank into Father Novack's chest, on the verge of sleep. Father Novack, shifted her so she would be more comfortable, cupped her face and turned her head towards him. She blinked blearily at him. He smiled softly at her for a moment and the his lips spread to the point where is was a real cheshire grin. He squeezed her tit, pinching her nipple sharply causing her to hiss in protest. Father Novack gripped her tightly, cupping her sex roughly. She squirmed.

"Now," he whispered vengefully "don't you dare think for one moment that we are anywhere near finished for the day, my dear."