Deathless Discipline

ballad she vaguely recognized as from the 80's. “Sister Christian, oh the time has come…”
She craned her neck and saw Frank wink at her. She laughed and gave him a thumbs up.
* * *
This was the first time he'd ever cracked the normally aloof cocktail waitress, Nanette. He'd been hot for her since she first started working at the club a year ago, but she'd never given him the time of day. For some reason tonight she was sending out the signals, though. It had been his perfect luck that their costumes were coordinated. She was truly wearing the hell out of hers—there had been other girls dressed in Catholic school uniforms that night, but none could hold a candle to her. She had the perfect body for it—petite with a small waist and shapely legs, and big, natural breasts. He'd watched her all night, carrying trays loaded with martinis and cosmopolitans, tossing her long glossy brown hair as she moved smoothly through the pumping crowd without spilling a drink.
Believing there's a window of opportunity for such things, he had a plan for hanging out with her when the club closed. She was sitting at the bar sipping on her shift drink, which boded well. If she had somewhere to be, she'd have already taken off with the rest of the employees. He finished loading his drums into his van and walked back in.
“Play a game of pool, Dom?” he asked the club owner, hoping to have a reason to be allowed to stick around after hours.
Dom looked at his wife Kate. “Nah, I should get her to bed,” he said. Kate was pregnant and was often exhausted by the end of a night on stage.
“No, I want to stay, Dom, please? Just for a little while?”
Dom smiled at her indulgently. “All right, then,” he said and led the way back to the pool room. As he'd hoped, the rest of them wandered back as well: Fox and his boy-toy of the night, Jimmie, and Kate and Nanette. He pulled off his clerical robe, glad to be rid of the cumbersome costume. It had been a fun idea, but it had been way too hot for playing drums all night.
Dom trounced him at pool so he suggested a game of doubles, knowing Kate wasn't the world's best pool player and wanting to engage Nanette.
“Did you like your song?” Kate asked Nanette as she broke.
She smiled. “You guys can pull just about any song out of your asses, can't you? Who sings that, anyway?” she was looking at him with her sparkling brown eyes.
“Night Ranger,” he said. “It's a classic.”
She snorted. “A classic. Right. I see you took off your costume. Was the outfit becoming too hot for you, Father?” she asked teasingly, before continuing, “Did you go to a Catholic school, Frank?”
He shook his head and grinned. “Nope. What about you, Mary Catherine?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Mmm… ever get caned by Mother Superior?”
She giggled. “No, there was no caning when I went to school. But they did teach us not to masturbate.”
This was good—she was talking sex. She was definitely still throwing out the signals.
“I'd give twenty bucks to see a Catholic spanking here tonight. Come on, Mary Catherine disciplined by Father Frank,” Fox said, throwing a twenty out on the table.
He sent a telepathic thank you to Fox, who must have guessed his agenda. Nanette looked tweaked by the suggestion, her nipples poking through her bra and the thin tight t-shirt that was driving him crazy.
Dom pulled out another $20 bill. “I'll put another twenty on that,” he said, winking at her. Frank could see the indecision on her face. He picked up the bills and snapped them in her face. “Forty bucks for forty spanks.”
“Panties down!” Jimmie called out.
“No way,” she said. “I am not pulling my panties down in front of my boss,” she said, throwing a look at Dom.
“Does that mean you'd do it with your panties up?” he asked in a low, teasing voice, meant only for her.
She flushed, but after a moment's hesitation took the money with a haughty snap of her wrist, folding it and putting it into the band of her white thigh-high socks. “All right, Father Frankie. Hit me with your best shot.”
* * *
She'd always had a streak of exhibitionist in her. She was the type of girl who flashed her tits for beads at Mardi Gras. Or popped up on the dance box to pretend she was making out with a girl just to hear the crowd scream. Bending over the pool table now, with her skirt flipped up and the whoops of encouragement from her audience, she spread her fingers on the green felt and rolled her hips back to present her ass.
“Count them, Mary Catherine,” Frank said in a soft, dangerous voice.
She gulped and wondered what she had gotten herself into—she didn't know Frank that well, for one thing, and despite her penchant for performing, being on display was suddenly a little overwhelming. A shiver of anticipation ran through her and then Frank slapped her ass hard enough to make her jump and give a little shriek. She recovered herself quickly. “One, Father Frank. May I have another?” she asked sweetly, wanting to put on a good show.
He slapped again, harder. “Ow! Two, Father Frank—God pray for your soul.”
The on-lookers laughed.
Smack. “Ah! Three.” Smack. “Ooh! Four. Five. Ouch!”
“I'm sorry, Mary Elizabeth, but you've been a bad girl,” he said, smacking away.
“I thought it was Mary Catherine,” she said, looking over her shoulder with a smirk.
“Never. Contradict. Father. Frank,” he said firmly, punctuating each word with a hard spank as she yelped and jumped.
“I'm sorry, Father Frank.” The burn was spreading exponentially across her butt cheeks, making it hard to focus.
“You forgot to count, we're starting over.”
“That's not fair!”
“Is it fair?” he demanded of their audience.
“Uh huh.”
“Oh yeah, that's fair.”
“She wasn't counting.”
Damn the peanut gallery. She looked over and saw Kate sitting on Dom's lap, looking flushed. His hand was between