From the Top Shelf - Under a Mediterranean Sun, conclusion

Last week we watched Maria being caned by her priest because she couldn't keep away from the boys of the village. Is it now her mother's turn for penance?

Maria's exit left Elena Solari alone with Don Stefano. They exchanged a brief word about the girl and the desirability of getting her marriage arranged as soon as possible, but that was not the reason Signora Solari had stayed behind. She would not wish to disclose the fact to her daughter, but Elena had a penance of her own to do. The priest's cane had not yet finished its work.

Don Stefano gave a muttered instruction and Elena went to re-lock the door. At 35 she remained a very attractive woman, a somewhat more mature version of her daughter, but with face still handsome, shoulder-length hair still glossily chestnut, and ripe breasts and buttocks still taut and firm. A ripe and responsive body which, it seemed, could not always be controlled and kept strictly for the sanctity of the marriage bed. It was that implacably burning sun, Don Stefano told himself, forever heating up a woman's loins. That pagan sun and the Devil.

In Elena Solari's case - her most recent case - it was a tourist she had chanced to meet on a country road. An American who, without any great difficulty it seemed, had been able to persuade the 35 year old matron to walk with him to some nearby woods and there engage in the act of sexual intercourse.

As she now stood in front of him in the little room Don Stefano made Elena repeat all the details - what the man had done, what she had done, the precise position they had adopted for their illicit coupling. Unblinking eyes on the scarlet-faced woman, the priest felt his blood stirring. The Devil never slept. When he had got the last detail out of her he told Elena to take all her clothes off.

Hands at the bodice of her knee-length blue dress, unbuttoning, the dress then lifted up over her head and off. The white petticoat, worn in spite of the heat on Sundays and for visits such as this, was removed in similar manner. There remained only tight white cotton knickers and black, self-supporting stockings, like her daughter's, plus a white nylon bra enclosing her full creamy breasts. Elena hesitated, glancing at the priest, then slid down her knickers before unclipping and removing her bra. She now stood naked apart from stockings and shoes, full, firm rosy-nippled breasts pointing at the priest.

Eyes firmly fixed on the nude body, on the jutting breasts and the thickly tufted mons veneris, Don Stefano delivered his homily - on the sin of adultery and fornication. Elena heard it as she had heard it before, standing straight and still, hands at her sides. She tried to concentrate but she was thinking now of the American greedily thrusting hard into her - and then of Don Stefano's cane which would shortly be searing her bottom, as it had Maria's. The priest's voice droned on.

He finally stopped and rose from his chair...and half hypnotised by the droning voice in the still air, Elena nonetheless moved forward and bent her nude body over the seat of the chair..just as her daughter had done earlier. She lay waiting..one minute..two..and then the cane was slicing through the air.

CRACK!!

Elena gave a gasping grunt as her daughter had done. The first stroke always came as a desperate shock. After the first you were, to a certain extent ready, on the right wavelength, but the first was always murder.

The strokes followed in a regular cadence. Elena was ready now but each one nonetheless knocked the breath from her lungs. Don Stefano was in fearsome form today. She remembered her daughter's desperate tears. Elena, with more experience, had more control but the pain was indeed ferocious. He gave her 10, like Maria.

Elena stood, face scarlet, pulse pounding, the ten strokes on her ripe bottom and thighs now swollen purpling welts. She gave a sharp intake of breath as the priest ran his hand over them. He muttered something and Elena briskly assented. Yes Father, she would never sin again. In fact, she was at this moment wet between her legs, her body stimulated by the cane in spite of the pain, ready and eager for sex. The priest's hand continued to stroke Elena's inflamed flesh..and she was shocked to find herself wondering if he had an erection.

Outside the molten sun was high in the cloudless sky, its brightness washing out colour, reducing things to black and dazzling white. Elena was used to the heat but now in her aroused state it felt almost unbearable. While she waited for the bus, a man stood at the bus stop and seemed to sense the state she was in. He rubbed up against her, his hand rubbing and stroking her hot bottom. With difficulty she forced herself to move away.

Once at home she grabbed her husband, Franco, and pulled him into the bedroom. Without speaking she locked the door then pulled him down on the bed on top of her. They made love, Elena with that fierce desperation which the cane always induced in her, though she was careful to ensure that her husband did not get a look at the state of her backside.

Afterwards Franco asked about Maria. Fastening his trousers he said, "Well, this time she's been punished enough."

That's some consolation.