Atonement by Rollin Hand I have always liked thrillers. I read a lot of pulp fiction and I thought--I wonder if I can do that? So I decided to write a novel--for spanking enthusiasts. This is, therefore, a novel. It takes place in the same time period as CERTIFICATE OF CORRECTION and might be seen as loosely, a continuation of that story with some of the same characters. My namesake is an attorney, a sole practitioner in a small Ohio town.
Atonement Chapter 1 "He won't be back today. I don't know if he'll be in tomorrow, either." I heard this exchange just as I opened my office door. It was Jane, my secretary on the phone. She heard me and looked up, startled. I mouthed 'who?' and she said "just a minute" and put her on hold. "Her name is Jessica Mason. I don't like the sound of her voice. It's too sultry. She's probably selling something. I'm telling her you are not here." "Jane, put her through right now! We'll discuss this some more later." I shot her a sharp look and headed for the inner office. I picked up the phone. "This is Rollin Hand, can I help you?" "Oh, Mr. Hand, your secretary said you were out." Jane was right. It was a young sultry voice with a Southern flavor. "She was a little, ah, confused about my schedule. How can I help you?" "Yes, my name is Jessica Mason. You were referred to me by a friend of my step daughter Libby, an Allison Carter. They are sorority sisters at the university." Oh, yeah. Allison. It had been nearly 6 months now since the incident in St Johns
. The girls had finished out the year back at UVA. I had talked to Aunt Linnea and had received a card from Erin thanking me for my help. Allison had signed the card too with a note that suggested she'd like to see me if I ever came to Virginia. I had been too busy though. Harriet and I were exploring setting up a law practice. I wanted to stay in the US, she wanted the islands. It looked like we might compromise on Florida. "Allison is a fine young lady." "She speaks highly of you, Mr hand. Anyway I'm calling for my husband, Henry. Henry is a consulting engineer and an inventor. He has been working on an invention in secret, but Henry was contacted by a company that he does some work for, and they seem to know all about it. We don't know how. They want all the rights to it. Henry has patents pending, but that's a secret too. Henry wrote the patents himself. We need someone to advise us about this..." In years past I had once done IP work as it's now called--on the litigation side. I was a registered patent attorney and knew this stuff, but I hadn't touched a patent in years. Burned out on it early on. "I haven't done patent work in quite awhile Mrs Mason." "It's Jessica, and we know. But what we need now is someone to speak for us with this company, to negotiate." "Who is the company?" I asked. "They are called Corpun, Inc." This triggered a memory. Oh, yeah. They were one of the new breed of corporations getting into corrections. They made equipment and ran boot camps and prisons on behalf of states and counties on a contract basis. Now with the new emphasis on reeducation and corporal punishment for non-violent offenses, they were getting into the business of setting up and running correctional centers, as well as making "correctional devices". They were in a business competing with some big players, too. With every county and city flocking to embrace corporal punishment as an alternative to building prisons and jails, it was inevitable that companies like Gates Correctional and Nike Prison Industries would form. Gates Correctional was a spin off of one of the "Baby Bills" formed in the wake of the Microsoft breakup. Some wags called it "Microhard". I hadn't heard much about Corpun. "I might be willing to take this on, er, Jessica, but you didn't tell me--what is this invention that your husband made?" "Oh didn't I say, Mr Hand? It's a spanking machine." Why was I not surprised? It had to happen. A spanking machine. A limber strap and elbow grease were not good enough. Technology marches forward. "Well, Mrs Mason...er, Jessica, that is most intriguing, but I need a lot more information." "We know, Mr Hand..." "Call me Rollin." "Ok, Rollin. We would like for you to come to Charlottesville and see first hand. Henry teaches Electrical Engineering at the University. We live there. We'll pay your expenses, of course." I agreed. We talked about logistics for a few moments more. I would catch a plane to Reagan and hop a commuter to Charlottesville. That done, my attention turned to Jane. "Jane, I would like to speak with you--and bring your book." Her demerit book, that is. Since her first transgression that had led to the spanking in the office, we had agreed that she would keep a book. Errors would be noted and an accounting duly conducted each Friday afternoon at closing time. Oddly enough it was Jane who suggested this system. "I'd rather just have my fanny tanned to keep me focused than to have you mad at me, boss." I had told her if that's the way she wanted it, then...ok. Jane entered and stood at my desk, book in hand. She looked contrite. "You can write down 5, no, 10 demerits for almost costing me a client. You are not to make judgements about who will or won't be routed to me. The only screening you should do is get rid of the salemen and the ones I specifically tell you about. Sultry voice, indeed." Jane looked chagrined. "I'm sorry boss, but you're right, and 10 ticks it is," she said opening the book and making a note. "Ah boss, we should get started a little early today. It's been a bad week. I have 36 demerits with that 10." "36?" I said. That was a lot. That meant 36 stinging licks with an 18" ruler across Jane's nicely rounded rump, which would be quite bare at the time. I found the ruler to be perfect for the job. It was flexible and stingy and got the point across without bruising. Jane in fact, needed her Friday afternoon lickings. She had a boyfriend, Roger. But Roger was far too nice to give her what she craved, so I had become her surrogate disciplinarian. Roger, though, was the ultimate beneficiary of our correctional sessions. He probably wondered why he had such a passionate Jane on his hands on Friday evenings. "We'll shut down the phones at 4:30." Jane nodded and unconsciously smoothed the back of her skirt, perhaps in an attempt to reassure her cheeky butt that it wouldn't be so bad. The skirt was short and tight and emphasized the rounded swells of her delectable fanny. At 4:30 on the dot Jane appeared, book in hand. She opened it. "I recounted, boss. It's really 40, not 36. I'm, ah, ready for my correction now." I could see her hardened nipples through her blouse. Although Jane's spankings stung, she was powerfully aroused by them. It must be the act of submission to a commanding male, I theorized. Whatever it was, what was about to happen in that otherwise drab office on a sunny Friday afternoon when everyone else was thinking about weekend golf games, camping, or gardening. This was something Jane needed, no, craved. And she was going to get it. I put her in the corner and told her to lift her skirt. That took some tugging along with a delicious little shimmy. Her nicely rounded nates were covered by diaphonous black panties. A garter belt and hose, black of course, completed the set. I let her wait for a few moments while I finished up a thing or two, then I got up and dragged a chair over in front of my desk. I sat down and grabbed the ruler. "Let's get this over with, Jane. Come here." "Yes, boss." She approached from my left with mincing steps and stretched herself over my lap, naughty girl style. The view from my angle was breathtaking. But, there was work to be done. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips in response and I tugged them down. Her legs were straight, toes on the floor. Her hands supported her on the other side. This arched her buttocks beautifully. I knew that before we were done, her knees would buckle and she would drum her toes on the floor, squealing. I tapped her fanny with the ruler. She gave a little wriggle at the feel of the wooden ruler on the exposed flesh. "You understand what this is for, right?" I said, tapping the pertly presented seat as I spoke. "Yes boss--my mistakes--and this afternoon." "Especially this afternoon, Jane." I gripped the ruler. The ruler, it seems to me, is perfect for this. It is light, springy and delivers a satisfying thwack! The sensation for the receipient is a sharp sting, and a number of these merge into a hot glow, like you had backed into the campfire. Well, Jane was due for a roasting so I decided to get to it. Thwack!...thwack!...thwack!...whap!...whap!...I smacked the rippling cheeks with brisk wristy strokes. It didn't take long for Jane to become vocal. "Ow...yeow, boss...ooh....I'm sorry....I promise ....please, yeoch!" The spanking went on. I smacked her fanny with a steady rhythym. She drummed her toes on the carpet, making her ass jiggle as the swats rained down. I spanked from the crest of her sit spot to the juncture of buttocks and thighs. The early rectangular red bands caused by the ruler's impact merged into a tomato red glow. Toward the end her yelps became a steady chorus of "Ohh...ooh...ooh...ooh...ooh" as the ruler relentlessly thwacked down. She jerked and wriggled, but did not try to escape. Thwack!..38..thwack!...39...and thwack! 40. "There, can you behave now?" And I helped her to her feet. "Oooh...yes boss...ooh that really stung!" she said, rubbing her inflamed rear. "That's the idea." I felt better now, my annoyance at her conduct dissipated by the sound smacking of her bottom. However, another condition had popped up. "Er, boss," she said, eyeing my groin, which gave away my state of arousal, "do you want me to take care of that?" Part of our weekly ritual involved sex. Not always, and no fucking since she had started going out with Roger, but I would frequently relieve her manually and she liked fellatio. Sometimes there was both. "You may proceed," I said. She unzipped me and pulled out my hardened shaft. She caressed it for a moment, then, licking her lips took me into her mouth. The things she could do with her lips and tongue! I came in jolting spasms and she greedily swallowed every drop. "You?" I said. She shook her head. "I need to go. You know,... Roger. I'm having him over to my apartment for dinner." I knew. Lucky Roger. He won't know what hit him tonight. Yeah, she was going to literally have him for dinner in her state. Someday I was going to have to take the boy aside and explain his girlfriend to him, but then that would be the end of all this. Well,...maybe later. *************************************************************************** I arrived at Reagan and changed plans. I rented a car and drove down to Charlottesville. The area between Alexandria and Charlottesville is hilly, green, and pretty. Too scenic now, almost, for its bloody heritage. This is where the Civil War was fought. Manassas, Fredericksburg, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbour, The Wilderness. As I drove, I could imagine Lee and Jackson surveying the ground, picking the best spot for a fight. Henry Mason was in a fight of another sort, and Corpun was the agressor. I read the file before I got on the plane. Corpun claimed now that they, not Henry, owned the inventions and they wanted Henry to sign over his rights lock, stock and barrel. I followed the directions Jessica had given me. Henry lived on the outskirts of Charlottesville in an impressive antebellum mansion complete with white columns and a veranda. Not bad for a college prof. I half expected to see them sipping mint juleps as I drove up the circular driveway that wound around a fountain--complete with nymphs. Nor was I prepared for Jessica Mason. She was in her early 30's. Obviously Jessica was wife no. 2 and not Libby's mother. She was a tall, voluptuous woman with almond shaped green eyes and long flaming red hair, parted to one side and tucked under where it fell below her shoulders, like a 40's movie star. Veronica Lake with red hair. Or Julianne Moore maybe--only more voluptuous. I imagine she caused quite a stir at faculty teas. She answered the door in jodpurs that were skin tight across her curvy bottom. Her ample breasts strained the simple white cotton blouse she wore. The riding crop was a nice touch. She invited me in with that sultry Southern voice. "Thank you for coming Mr Hand, er Rollin. Henry is on the back porch." I followed the gentle sway of her jouncy rear as she led me to the porch. I was not prepared for Henry Mason. He was in his 60's, easily twice Jessica's age. Henry was was a robust bear of a man with close cropped gray hair. He walked with the aid of a walking stick as it seemed he had a limp on his left side. How did he handle the smoldering bundle of femininity that was Jessica? "It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Hand," he said warmly. " I trust you are not too tired from your trip." I assured him that I was fine. A few more pleasantries were exchanged and we got to the purpose of my trip. "I did some consulting work for Corpun. They make equipment for secure facilities like prisons. I designed mechanical-electrical systems and the software that ran them. Ah, things like automated locking systems, video surviellance, computer-controlled lockdown facilities, that sort of thing. I did this work for them, turned over the designs and thought that was that. Well, it wasn't. They came to me several weeks ago claiming that my discipline machines were theirs. "You see, I am also a free-lance inventor. Two events sparked my interest in conceiving what I believe is my most valuable invention, the one that Corpun now wants. The first is my beautiful wife here, Jessica." Jessica beamed. My observation was that there was genuine affection between them. "The second is the revolution in corrections that has occurred as a result of our political climate. When President Limbaugh and Vice President Schlesinger advocated a 'return to the woodshed' it struck a chord in the American psyche. As you know many state and local governments adopted corporal punishment for entire classes of non-violent offenses. School districts as well have adopted paddling policies to deal with misbehavior. One problem that I saw was that punishments mandated by the state should be impartially meted out, and...they should be the same for the same offense. Instead, what do we have? Some corrections officials wield strap or cane correctly, skillfully, some do not. Some are too severe while others too soft. Do you see my point?" I assured him that I did. "So I sensed a need. And I came up with a machine that dispenses discipline, fairly, efficiently, and most of all, uniformly. All of those convicted and sentenced will be treated the same. The machine has no emotions, no slow days, no lapses in attention or coordination. And it is highly effective as Jessica will testify," he said with a chuckle. Jessica blushed but flashed a naughty grin. I couldn't understand this. Did he test the machine on her? And did she like it? "I sense your puzzlement, Mr Hand, but all will be explained. Let me be frank. Before the accident that left me partially crippled and impaired in certain other departments, Jessica and I were avid, well, lifestylers. You may be more familiar with the term 'swinger'." I said I was. "Before my accident, Jessica and I were very active in this scene. My injury left me unable to... ah, perform as it were, so I set out to devise a machine that would take care of Jessica's needs--all of them. You see Jessica has a need for discipline as well as sex. Perhaps we should adjourn to my lab where I can show you." Jessica looked at Henry expectantly. He motioned in the direction of the door. "After you, my dear," said Henry gently but firmly. Jessica seemed flustered, her eyes wide, but I caught a trace of excitement there too. We followed her out of the room. I tried not to stare but I was mesmerized by the sway of her luscious hips, the ovals of her bottom straining the fabric of the tight jodpurs.
ATONEMENT Chapter 2 I followed them both to a locked door that led to the basement. "I have the key and I keep it on me at all times. No one comes in here without my permission," Henry explained as he unlocked the door. "Please follow me. Watch your step." It was a large basement. At one end was a workbench with tools, computers and test equipment. In the center of the room was a contraption fed by wires and hydraulic hoses. At the center was a low cube with a padded top and an inclined pad below the top on either side. A frame supported an upright enclosure attached to the right side of the bench next to the padded top, and from the enclosure an arm extended to the side. The arm had two swivel joints in it. I would have called them an "elbow" and a "wrist". To the rear of the apparatus was a console with a control panel and what were apparantly optical sensors of some kind pointed at the bench. On the wall several implements fitted with attachments hung on hooks. There were several paddles of various sizes and a few thin rods. "This is the junior model of my machine, " said Henry proudly. "As you can see the business part resembles an armless chair with a padded seat. The person to be punished lies across that padded top and is buckled in with straps. It's rather like being positioned across someone's lap. Think of it as a mechanical chair with an arm extending out of the chair back. The arm has two swivel joints and can move vertically as well as around an axis of rotation so that the angle of the striking implement can vary from up-down to 45 degrees to straight horizontal. Precision, fast release hydraulic cylinders and servos control the arm motion." Henry seated himself at the console and flipped some switches. A crt display flickered to life showing the back of the spanking bench. "Jessica, if you please, assume the position, my dear." "Oh, Henry, no not in front of..." "Right now dear," said Henry with a smile, but the tone of his voice said he meant it. "She overspent the credit card again," Henry explained turning to me, "so I guess a little demonstration is in order." Jessica shot us nervous smile and approached the bench. She lay across the bench thus presenting her gorgeous rump which spread and filled the CRT screen. Henry flipped another switch and Jessica's ass took on the appearance of a 3D topological image. Since she was partially bent at the waist, her bottom was nicely presented without being stretched taut. "The ah, target area is being scanned by a laser. This 3D representation will be loaded into memory. The mechanical arm is calibrated according to this image so that when the program is run, the strikes of the implement we choose are 100% accurate. The software accepts commands from this console here." Another screen displayed a windows-type interface with toolbars and dialog boxes. Henry continued, "We can program force--light, medium or hard--repitition rate--up to 4 spanks per second--, dwell time--like a fast smack and release, or, swat and hold it there for a few seconds, and combinations of all of the above. In fact I have devised several canned programs for different types of spankings. For example, a disciplinary paddling might call for 10 hard licks spaced evenly apart--maybe 20 seconds or so, with a medium dwell time. A brisk spanking for a minor offense might be 2 minutes of repetitive spanking with hard slow smacks alternating with lighter rapid flurries. In the production model the operator will be able to program his or her own. The arm is programmed to move both vertically and horizontally to cover the target area in a random fashion so that the implement does not always strike the same place or at the same angle." "Amazing," I said. But it was hard to concentrate on the technical stuff. My eyes were on Jessica's luscious rear. The fabric of the jodpurs was stretched tight across her magnificent behind and I could see the panty line of small triangular bikini panties through the material. "Now here," said Henry, rising, and gesturing toward the wall, "are implements that may be attached to the machine. Each one has a code that is entered and the software calibrates the machine specifically for its use. Ah, I think this will do," said Henry selecting a rectangular paddle made of some dark synthetic material. "This is a rather light springy composite, just the thing for correcting a naughty wife who overspends the credit card," he chuckled. The paddle clicked into a holder and locked into place. Henry patted Jessica's rear and drew a strap across the small of her back and buckled it. Another strap went across her legs. Her arms hung straight down gripping handgrips. Henry sat down at the console again. He pulled up a file that said "Discipline2.exe" and hit "enter". The machinery started to hum. The arm moved in and pressed the flat of the paddle firmly against Jessica's rump. She flinched at the contact. "It's automatically calibrating the servos with the laser rangefinder," said Henry. "The machine now knows the exact position and contour of Jessica's behind." A new screen sprang up, evidently a user interface. There were all sorts of controls, rather like a virtual CD player. Henry positioned the cursor over a green button. "Are you ready Jessica?" "Oh...yes darling, but please not too hard." "Only as you deserve, dear. Here we go." And Henry clicked the mouse. The arm pivoted smoothly back, then quick as a flash it rushed forward planting a hearty smack! on Jessica's tightly presented bottom. Jessica gasped. A second later it repeated. Smack! And again. Smack! And again. Smack! The paddle spanked Jessica's seat at two second intervals making dry smacking sounds as it popped against the generously full rounded contours of Jessica's rump. "Oooh, Henry, it's set too high! Ow...ow...ow!" "Maybe next time, sweetheart, you will watch the spending?" "Ow! Ouch! Yes, Henry," she squealed, trying to wriggle. The machine was certainly efficient...and smooth. It spanked with a fluid motion, very natural. And the spanks were spread around. The arm made continuous minor adjustments in position to randomly spank the entire surface area of Jessica's ass from the backs of her thighs to the crowns of her swelling cheeks. Her butt wobbled with the sharp impacts of the paddle even through the material of the jodpurs. Jessica had little room to wiggle, but she tried. After about 30 smacks, the machine stopped. Henry rose and unbuckled the straps allowing a flushed Jessica to rise and rub her bottom vigorously. "Well, what do you think, sir?" boomed Henry, his arm around Jessica, consoling her. "Er, very impressive, Henry. I can see the potential." "And that's not all," said Henry, who walked in his limping gait toward a larger structure hidden under a dropcloth. "Shall we show him your special machine, dear?" "Oh, Henry, I don't know...". Jessica was busily rubbing the lush contours of her seat. She was flustered but there was an underlying tremor of excitement in her voice. "Come now, Jessica, we must disclose all to Mr Hand if he is to help us." Henry pulled on a cable which lifted the dropcloth. Underneath was a similar machine, only larger. This one had a central padded bench to support the upper body. There were two kneeler pads separated by a V-shaped gap which would be between the legs. A rail supported a rectangular box and extended to the rear through the "V". The box apparantly slid along the rail. The top of the bench, right at the point where the pelvis would rest, had a small rounded pad with what looked like rubber nubbins on it. There were two towers housing the motors and servos, one on each side. Each had an arm. "Now darling, if you will disrobe, we can proceed." "Oh, Henry, please...it's so embarrassing." But even as she said it, Jessica's fingers toyed with the buttons on her blouse. "Jessica, you will strip immediately." Jessica shuddered at Henry's commanding tone and lowered her eyes. I had the feeling that this was a delicious game the two of them played from time to time for the benefit of themselves as well as for visitors. Jessica unbuttoned the blouse and took off her bra, freeing her tremelous breasts which were both high set and full. She unzipped the black boots on the side and stepped out of them. The jodpurs were next. She turned around to take her pants down. They were so tight she had to wiggle her hips a bit to tug them down. Sure enough she was wearing scanty bikini panties under the pants. She was lovely to behold. Long legs and a slender waist only emphasized the swelling cheeks of her sumptious rear end which was a hot pink as a result of the spanking. Clad only in the skimpy panties she turned to the front, her hands held demurely across her breasts hiding her nipples. "The panties too, Jessica. Everything." With a gasp that caught in her throat, Jessica obeyed her husband's command and slid the panties down, revealing red pubic hair. Then she stood with one hand attempting to shield her crotch and the other her breasts. Neither was hiding much. "Assume the position, Jessica." Jessica turned and I followed the lascivious undulations of her ass as she walked to the apparatus and knelt down on it, thrusting her hindquarters high in the air and spreading her legs apart. Henry drew straps across her back and the calves of her legs. She shivered at his touch as he patted her rump when he was done. Then Henry selected two implements from the wall. One appeared to be a leather paddle, oval in shape, the other was a slender wand. Henry fastened one to each arm of the machine. "You will notice now that with this machine Jessica's hands are not bound. They could be, but I allow my darling to use these controls for her own pleasure." What Henry indicated was a small console on the front of the bench with some knobs and buttons on it. "Where the first device is purely disciplinary, this version can give pleasure as well. First, however, Jessica's discipline is not yet finished." Henry sat at the console and operated the mouse. The machine hummed and the leather paddle arm moved back. Henry clicked again and the leather paddle began to deliver a rapid flurry of spanks to Jessica's jiggling ass, landing sometimes on opposite sides, sometimes on one side several times in a row. Jessica bucked and squealed. "Owwww! Henry! Please! Ow! Ow! Ow!" The paddle stopped and withdrew. The opposite arm which held a flexible switch or wand drew back. Swissh...whack! Swissh....whack! The arm whipped down on Jessica's reddened bottom cheeks at 10 second intervals. "Yeoww!...Ooooh!....Ahhh!...." Jessica yelped with each whippy stroke. As the machine continued the whipping, Henry turned to me, seemingly oblivious to his wife's distress. "You see, I could go for coffee and the machine would continue, thoroughly, relentlessly. The result--a well-punished miscreant. Don't you agree dear?" he said turning back to the beautiful penitent before him whose buttocks now sported a collection of fine red weals. Jessica had received maybe 20 licky strokes with the switch when Henry stopped it. "Now I want you to notice something. Jessica is breathing heavily and perspiring. She is also aroused as you can tell by looking between her legs. Don't be embarrassed, Jessica is quite the exhibitionist." Indeed, I could see the pouting folds of her vagina glistening with moisture. "Now I will turn the controls over to Jessica," said Henry, selecting a command from a dialog box. Jessica had pushed a button and a humming sound could be heard. "That is a vibrator in that small knob at the top of the bench under her pelvis," explained Henry as Jessica started to rock back and forth, moaning softly. "She can press her clitoris against that knob and control both frequency and intensity. If she wishes she can control the paddle or the switch as well." Just as he said this, Jessica pushed a button that caused the leather paddle to smack her behind sharply 6 times. She shuddered and groaned, and ground her mons against the knob writhing in a circular motion. She appeared to be in the throes of ecxtasy. She pushed another button and the purpose behind the strange box on the rail became apparant. A lid unhinged and slowly a life-sized dildo began to emerge. The 3d view on the monitor focussed on Jessica's moist slit. The dildo moved forward along its track until it was positioned at the entrance to her vagina. As it rose and slid forward, Jessica shifted herself slightly so that the hard member slid easily into her wet sheath. Jessica moaned and bucked her hips as the artificial penis began a reciprocating motion simulating a vigorous fucking. Jessica emitted animalistic noises and writhed in shameless arousal as the dildo and vibrator did their work. From time to time the paddle would deliver a flurry of smacks or the switch would descend. Jessica appeared lost in a sexual delierium. Spurred on by thwacks of the paddle and licks from the springy switch, Jessica willingly impaled herself on the pulsating dildo and rode it with a frenzied motion. The thrashing of her body, skewered on the implements of sweet torture signalled an approaching orgasm. When it came she screamed with pleasure as her body stiffened. When she stopped and slumped, limp, Henry shut off the machine. She was soaked in sweat. The dildo was covered in her juices and the musky odor of sex filled the room. "I have to monitor her. She would go all night. This machine is highly addictive, you see." I could see the problem--a pleasure machine that one could control. One could approach climax and call for application of the rod to slow things down, then build up again. Or program it for a light spanking to intensify the sexual sensations from the dildo and vibrator--or, the combinations were endless. Henry released Jessica and brought her a robe. We left her to compose herself and returned to Henry's study. "What I am puzzled about is how Corpun knew I even had this machine," he said shaking his head. "I certainly won't give it to them as they are demanding I do. I don't want to sell to them, but I might license them if the terms are good enough." "How did they find out? Who else knew about this but you and Jessica? Your daughter?" I inquired. "Libby? No, not her. She has no interest in my work. She's a sweet child but I am sad to say, somewhat flighty. She has never been the least bit curious about what lies in the basement. To her it's just daddy's stuffy old gadgets." "What about servants? Workmen?" "I never let anyone go down there. It's always locked." But I was thinking it might be interesting to talk to Libby. That could be arranged since Allison was her sorority sister. "I would like for you to talk to Corpun's lawyers," continued Henry. "See what they really want--buy me some time. And try to find out how they knew about my invention." I told Henry I would drive back to DC and arrange a meeting as soon as possible. I also told him that I would like to speak to his daughter. "Sometimes kids will tell another adult things that they would not tell a parent." Henry agreed with my assessment but added that he didn't think Libby knew anything. As I left to drive back, I chanced to look up. Behind a parted curtain was Jessica's face flashing me an inviting smile. Part of a shapely leg was visible below. I could only think, what a family! What could Libby be like?
Atonement Ch 3 I drove back to Washington that afternoon. Corpun's attorneys, Gropes and Ray, had an office on K street. I was slated to see them the next day. But first I wanted to see Libby, so I called Allison at the Kappa house at UVA. Allison came on the phone. She was genuinely excited to hear from me. She told me that Libby had left earlier on a camping trip and was not expected back until Monday. It was Thursday. That gave me a weekend to cool my heels if I wanted to see her. "But I'd like to see you," said Allison. "I have something I need to talk to you about. Can we meet tommorrow night? I'll drive up." That sounded mysterious, but I agreed. After all who wouldn't want to spend some time with Allison? She was a beautiful young woman with blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and a figure that was lush and promising. Abundant curves in all the right places. She projected sexuality, but with an aura of shy innocence that was an instant turn-on for any man who came within her orbit. And I was old enough to be her father. I told her sure, meet me in the bar of the Mayflower Hotel at 7:00. I'd be glad to help her any way I could. ***************************************************************** The next day I met with Martin J Creel, Corpun's attorney. "I know your record, Mr Hand, looked you up on Lexis---quite a few court victories for you a few years back in the national patent arena." "That was a long time ago," I said. "I have a much lower key practice now. I just do general practice, a little of this and a little of that." "Well let me be frank about this, then. Our position is that we own Henry Mason's invention. It was part of his work for my client, but after the contract was done he refused to sign the invention rights papers we had prepared." "It wasn't part of the deal," I countered, "and how did you even know about his invention, anyway?" Creel was indignant. "Are you suggesting some underhandedness by Corpun? I can assure you that those designs came into our hands voluntarily. Mason turned over discs with all the design information on them to our chief engineer. What he won't do now is assign the patents to us. We need those to go into production. Our customers, various state governments do not want to be faced with charges of patent infringement from Henry Mason." Something didn't sound right here, but I was more interested in the source of the design data. "Who is this engineer? Henry tells me the designs were secret." "It's all well documented. Oliver Brussard is Corpun's director of engineering." "Then I want to talk to Brussard." "He's on vacation in the Carribean. He's unavailable." Interesting...Creel knew exactly where he was. Conveniently out of town. "Then I think our meeting is at an end." Creel huffed about injunctions and litigation and made it sound as if Corpun was ready to go to war to secure the rights to Henry's invention. I needed to see Henry again, in view of Creel's allegations. I called Henry later from the hotel room. He told me he had given Brussard discs, but that they contained only data on the designs of the security systems he had made for Corpun. "The machines I showed you were not on those discs," he said emphatically. "Oliver Brussard is lying." So we had a mystery. How did Corpun get the designs? Why is Brussard so conveniently unavailable? Did someone close to Henry betray him? ************************************ I pondered this as I waited for Allison in the bar of the Mayflower. When she walked in, all male (and a few female) heads turned. She was wearing a little black cocktail dress that molded itself to every lovely curve of her body. The short hem showed off her beautifully sculpted legs and the top revealed a generous amount of cleavage. I stood up to greet her and she gave me big hug. "It's so great to see you again, Uncle Rollin...can I call you Uncle Rollin? I know you're Erin's uncle but after, well...everything I feel like you're mine too." She was gushing nervously. "Slow down there, Allison. Of course you can call me Uncle Rollin if you wish. And how is my favorite niece?" "She's fine. She sends her love." That was good to hear. After the harrowing ordeal these girls had gone through 6 months earlier, it was good to see that they had rebounded with no lasting trauma. After ordering drinks for us both I told her she could help me by telling me a few things about one of her sorority sisters, and I thanked her for recommending me to Henry Mason. She said she had to show me something first. She was a bit nervous. Could we go up to my room? I said "sure" and we proceeded to the elevators. When we got to my room I took off my jacket and turned to her. "Now what's all this about, Allison?" "It's this," she said handing me an envelope. "Go ahead. Open it and read it." The note purported to be from a Madeline Smythe, Student Advisor, history department. The note said: "To Whom It May Concern, This is to report that the scholastic performance of Ms Allison Carter has been substandard for this semester. She is currently carrying a 1.7 GPA and she stands to be on academic probation for the next term. I know Allison is capable of better work. In my opinion she has failed to apply herself and lacks self discipline. It is my strong recommendation that she receive a healthy dose of discipline to put her back on task. /s/ Madeline Smythe" "Well, Allison, I don't know what to say. Have your parents seen this?" "No and they wouldn't care. I feel so awful. It's like I can't get going. I'm lazy. I goof off a lot and can't seem to stop. The only good period I had was right there when we came back from the islands and then later. You know, after you gave Erin and me that spanking. I was industrious and I studied and worked hard all the rest of that term." She brushed the hair back from her eyes. She seemed about to cry. "Then last term started and I just slipped back. I just hate myself for it and sometimes I think someone should just...well, turn me over his knee and spank me good and hard." You know, sometimes it really is hard to tell. Was I being seduced? Did Allison really want punishment because of bad grades? I doubted that there was a Prof named Madeline Smythe, or if there was that she had written this. Not many English professors misspell "recommendation". I decided to play along. Obviously she had gone to some trouble to create this subterfuge, and whatever her motive, I could not think of a single good reason for refusing her. I put on a stern face. "This is very troubling Allison. And I can see the wisdom of your advisor's recommendation. Do you want me to do this? To give you the discipline you apparently need?" "Y-y-yes," Allison stammered, licking her lips and smoothing her dress with her hands. "Well, what should I do? Give you a good talking to? A fatherly lecture on the importance of your studies?" Allison took a deep breath, and lifted her head, steadying herself. "Yes, I think y-you should tell me how lax I've been in no uncertain terms. Go ahead, really chew me out." "Well, Allison, you are right. And I think it's high time. You do need discipline, just like your advisor says,...but... I can think of nothing better in this situation than a good sound spanking," I said, rising and unbuttoning the cuffs on my sleeves. "You're going to s-spank me?" said Allison breathlessly, eyes wide, as she watched me roll my sleeves up. "That's right. Scolding just won't make an impression. So...I suggest you get out of that dress, so it won't get wrinkled. You really need to be punished for wasting your time and your parent's money goofing around when you should be studying." "Y-yes, sir," she quavered, and unzipped the little dress in back. The zipper came down and she stepped out of it clad in a black bra and garter belt ensemble with wispy black panties. What a vision! Her breasts were full and strained the black bra. Her stomach was flat and her waist long and narrow. Her hips flared outwardly setting off the tiny waist. Her bottom was full and round without looking fat, but the cheeks were high-set and jutted back creating a distinct overhang where her upper thighs joined her hips. The legs were lean and finely sculpted, like a dancer's. She was clearly one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen--especially naked. I sat on the bed. "Come over here, Allison," I said crooking my finger. She walked to my right side with little mincing steps. I took her by the waist and put her over my knee. I adjusted her until her bottom was positioned uppermost and rested my right palm on the jouncy cheeks. "You are going to get a good sound spanking, Allison, and I hope it will teach you to apply yourself." "Ohh...yes Uncle Rollin, but not too hard, please?" "Come on now Allison, you need a good tanning that you will remember well into next term. I want you to think about this every time you are tempted to slack off." Allison just squirmed and emitted little mewling sounds in response. "Now lift up a little." Allison's body tensed. "W-why?" "You know why. These panties are coming down. Bare fanny spankings are so much more effective." Allison gave an embarrassed moan but lifted up and I slipped the panties down to her knee hollows. Her fully rounded seat was exposed to my gaze, twin white globes that quivered expectantly as I patted each chub, testing its resilience. Allison gave a little shiver at this intimate touch and wriggled slightly causing her beautiful nates to jiggle sexily. I started off with about 25 firm, deliberate smacks. Her fanny wobbled deliciously with each one. Red hand prints stood out against the stark whiteness of her lovely moons. She was silent except for low gasps and intakes of breath. I was worried about the sharp smacking sound of my hand on her derriere in the hotel room, but the sound from the TV helped mask it. I didn't say anything as I spanked, slowly, from cheek to cheek. I wanted her to just feel the heat gradually build up in her seat. She writhed around on my lap in response to the steady smack! smack! smack! of my descending palm. After about 25 spanks I stopped. "Are you learning a good lesson in applying yourself?" "Oooh...yesss, Uncle Rollin. Ah, it really stings," she said breathlessly. "Good. I don't want to have to do this next term." She gave a little shiver. "you'd come back and do this next term?" She looked at me over her shoulder with those big doe-shaped eyes. "Yes I would if you don't behave." I resumed her chastisement, this time a bit harder, with brisk sharp smacks that came in flurries. Six smacks and stop. Six spanks and stop. These spanks must have smarted because her wriggling became more animated. I imagined Henry's spanking machine and how effectively it had spanked Jessica. Allison started to wriggle more and her moaning became more pronounced, especially when I reached the end of a series of hard fast spanks. After about 3 or 4 minutes of this I rested my palm on her ass which was now a cherry red and hot to the touch. She was really feeling it now and my hand stung as well, but I wanted this to be memorable. I stated spanking again, this time with very hard spaced -apart smacks with my hand tensed and flat like a paddle. "Are you(smack!) going to (smack!) apply yourself?" Smack! smack! "Ow...ow...owee...yes Uncle Rollin," she yelped, twisting and bucking, but not really trying to escape. I decided that tears had to flow for this to be a real experience, so I stepped up the pace and the intensity. Allison struggled to control her yelps of pain. I think I got a little carried away because after a minute or two of intense spanking I heard her sobbing. "Ah...ah...I won't....I'll be good...wahhhh," she blubbed. That, I decided, was enough. "Ok, honey. It's over now. Here, get up," I said helping her rise. She stood there and let loose with a good cry, rubbing her flaming hindquarters. Then she put her arms around me and hugged me, oblivious to the fact that she was practically naked and that I had a raging hard-on. "Ohh...oh...woh...I'm sorry. I'll do better." "It's ok, Allison. You've been punished now and it's over. You start with a clean slate. The past is history." "(snif) I guess I can tell Ms Smythe I've had a good 'talking to' from my strict uncle," she said with the beginning of a smile. "I guess you could say that," I said. I was not about to poke a hole in her charade about the probably fictitious Ms Smythe. ******************************************************* I let Allison have the room while I went back down to the bar. When Allison had composed herself, she joined me. "I should have brought a pillow from the room," she said jokingly, but she winced as she sat down. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry Allison. You needed that." "Yes, I did, and I thank you for it...Uncle Rollin." She was breathing heavily and blushing. "Well..." I said, changing the subject, "Tell me about Libby Mason. What kind of person is she?" "Oh, Libby? She is a very sweet girl. Sort of...you know, ditsy, scatterbrained. I hated to see her get mixed up with that Trey and his church. Trey, that's her boyfriend. He's got her hooked on some weird church thing." "What church is that?" "They call themselves The Revelation Church of Atonement or something." Hmm...I had seen storefront operations in several metropolitan areas with a logo that had the words Revelation/Atonement in it. My memory was that it was hyped as some sort of counseling center, or self-improvement operation. "Do you know anything about it?" "No. Only that she's been going to these counseling sessions with Trey. She even tried to talk me into going when I mentioned how crummy I felt about doing so poorly. She said they would help me lose the guilt and feel better about myself." "What's Trey like?" "Oh, he's a rich kid--like me, spending Daddy's money. Maybe he feels guilty about it. He's got a mean streak though. I don't like him. He pressured her into going at first. But you know...she changed. She spouts this stuff about how great it is--how you can purge your guilt for all the bad things you've ever done, feel like a better person." "So where did she go this weekend?" "On a camping trip with Trey and Mary Beth Quinlan and Celeste Jensen. Trey was going to take them to West Virginia to Monogahela. Right around Sruce Knob." I knew the area. A remote part of the Eastern portion of the state, it was rugged, mountainous, and wild. I'd been there before, years ago. It was still isolated and the people who lived there clung to a way of life that had all but disappeared. Farmers who scratched a living out of the rough mountainous soil and the people who serviced them; these were the folks of Appalacia and small town America--God fearing, traditional, and sometimes hostile to outsiders. I bet that the strap and the switch still ruled in these homes, and that there were still a few real woodsheds standing. After dinner I reluctantly planned my goodbyes to Allison. She seemed reluctant to go. She said she left something in the room. As we took the elevator up, she told me how her fanny still smarted. "Oooh, it it feels so hot," she said, "but also kind of nice, like a hot glow. It'll probably hurt tomorrow." "Well, the idea is to remind you to work hard," I said, eyebrows raised. "You should remember every time you sit down for awhile." "Mmm, I will." We got to my room and went in. She made as if she were looking for something. "So what did you forget?" I said. "The note. You have to sign it." I didn't recall seeing that instruction. She stopped looking. "Oh, here it is. It was in my purse the whole time." "Allison, it doesn't say I have to sign the note, does it?" Allison blushed again, and stammered,"N-no. I-I just wanted to, er, thank you properly," she said shyly. Putting her arms around my neck she pulled me to her and gave me a kiss that was anything but the usual uncle-niece variety. She ground her hips against me and put her hand behind my neck, kissing me passionately. I responded by hugging her even more tightly, and I moved my hand down to lightly massage her satiny ass. She groaned and put her left leg in between mine rubbing it up and down against my swollen penis that was threatening to burst from my slacks. Allison broke off the kiss and dropped to her knees. She fumbled with my zipper but slid it down and she reached inside to grasp my hard cock. She pulled it out and stroked it, looking up at me with lust-filled eyes. Then I saw her face disappear and her head bob down on my engorged organ as she gobbled it into her mouth and started to suck greedily. She tongued the head while her fingers stroked my shaft. Then she ran her lips up and down it. I was about to burst. I pulled her head back and lifted her up. For the second time that night, I watched her strip out of that little black dress. I shucked the rest of my clothes. We tumbled into bed and I pulled her body against mine. The feel of her firm lush breasts against my chest was electric. I felt between her legs. The furry patch of hair was slippery wet and she moaned as my fingers massaged her clitoris, plunging occasionally into the hot depths of her womanhood. I parted her legs slid my rock hard penis to the lips of her vagina. She pushed forward as I thrust in. I was engulfed by hot tight wetness. I rolled her over to her back and started thrusting and withdrawing in a steady, slow motion. Each time I rammed it in until our pubic bones touched, held it there for a moment, then slid back. Then I sat back on my heels and gripping the lush buttocks I had so soundly spanked, pulled her into me, skewering her on my hard prick. She matched me thrust for thrust, thrashing about wildly. We came in a shuddering climax. Hers triggered mine. Her body went stiff and she arched her back, her vaginal walls constricting my cock. I could no longer hold off and spewed my seed inside her, pumping furiously until the spasms subsided. We lay in each other's arms for a time, spent, not saying anything. Then she said, "Ohh...I don't know what came over me, I...I..." I put my hand to her lips. "No, stop. We both wanted this. You are a grown woman, not a girl. Women have needs, it's ok." "It's...it's just that the boys I know, well, they're boys. I guess I'm attracted to someone older, like you." "Like I said, no need to explain." She stayed over. The next morning over breakfast we talked some more about the Church of Atonement. "There are these guys on campus, you know, recruiting. They wear white shirts and ties. The girls wear long dresses, like out of The Donna Reed show or something." "And Trey is one of these guys?" "Yeah, he got Libby to go to one of their centers. She kept going. After awhile she seemed, well, different. Fired up about it. We thought it was a phase." "Did Libby ever take Trey home to meet her parents?" "I think she did, and I guess they liked him. I know they went out there to this big party they had last month. Lots of my sorority sisters went. There were faculty there, of course." "Have you ever been to Libby's house?" "Yes it's beautiful." "Ever seen Prof Mason's workroom?" "No, Libby showed me where it was but said all his work was secret, and no one was allowed in there. She said ever since she was a kid, snooping in there was strictly forbidden. She said her dad used to scare her by saying he kept a spanking machine in there and that if she ever went in, it would trap her and spank her and nobody would be there to turn it off. To us it seemed like a big joke, but I almost think she believed it." So Libby was fascinated by her father's workroom, and ironically, the story told by a parent to scare a kid into obedience was true. But Libby didn't seem the type to steal from her dad. The interesting thing though was this church she was in. I felt that I needed to know more. "Do you want to do some field work for me?" Allison brightened. I was not going to shoo her off. I was going to put her to work. "Uh, sure. I'd love to help you, Uncle Rollin." "Ok, I'm working on Henry Mason's legal problem, but I need to know more about this church. I can't tell you why, it's confidential. But if you would go into one of their storefront operations and act like someone interested in them, it might help me a lot. I'm going to do the same thing. Then we will meet back here and compare notes at the end of the day. Ok?" We found church centers at two separate places, one in Georgetown, the other out Connecticut Ave, almost to Rockville. One more lingering kiss, a pat on her fanny and we were off.
Atonement Ch 4 The storefront office of The Revelation Church of Atonement was scrunched between an H&R Block and a Starbucks on upper Connecticut Ave. An attractive brunette in a long dress rose to greet me. "Hello, can I help you, Mr, ah..." "DeForest Doohan," I said with a weak smile. "Yes...Mr Doohan," she beamed, "how can we help you?" "I guess I want to know more about the Church," I said trying to look guilt-ridden. It wasn't hard. "Well, please have a seat here and let me tell you all about us. In the Bible the Book of Revelations makes clear that all must atone before the great coming..." Of who, I thought? Ghozer? It was weird right off the bat. She prattled on about the need to atone for past misdeeds and how the Church could help one achieve "cleansing". She talked about how we all carry this dread weight of guilt around. Things that began in childhood, some long forgotten, and that what we all lack is a means of purging that guilt. "...so through a series of guilt relief sessions with our trained Confessors you can begin to cleanse the awful load of bad feelings that you have carried since childhood. If you progress you may wish to join us at our communal retreat center. Our retreat center is located in beautiful natural surroundings..." It sounded like some goofy mix of Catholic confession, psychotherapy, new age religion and a 12 step group. "...you would meet with a counselor of our church, called a "Confessor" to talk about your past at first, then we can begin to map out a program for atoning for sins. We are all sinful, Mr Doohan, and..." "This retreat center, where is it?" I interrupted. "Uh...it's in Goshen, West Virginia, a really lovely spot..." Hmmm....Trey would have gone right through there with Libby and the two other girls on the way to Spruce Knob. I'd been to Goshen, a typical small farming town that was also the county seat. "...and our initial sessions are inexpensive, but you must go through this phase before you are eligible to attend one of our retreat seminars. We take all major credit cards." "Well, gee...I don't know. You say first I confess everything, then..." "Yes. You must empty yourself. Totally. Every bad thing you have ever done." "How many sessions does this take?" "Oh it can take several weeks, perhaps months, of soul searching, but the path to cleansing is not an easy one," she said with a serious tone. I nodded. "I can see that. Then at the retreat center, what happens there?" "It would not be good for us to jump ahead to that. You must be ready, first." "Ok, well, thanks. I don't know right now..." I said my voice trailing off. She smiled. "That's all right, Mr Doohan. Many are unsure at first. But do not wait too long 'for ye know not the day nor the hour'." "Uh...yeah, well, bye. And thanks." I gave her a wimpy wave and left. *************************************************************** I met Allison back at the hotel. She had gone to the church storefront in Georgetown. "...and they want me to come to this retreat center of theirs for a weekend and they'll pay for it. And they have openings now. She made it sound like some loving family or a sorority...to help me purge the guilt...and take care of me. I guess I came across as some lost waif. They wanted to take me in--like right now." I told Allison how different my story was. The whole thing made me more curious than ever. Let's see, a guy walks in and they want to have him sign up for expensive sessions with a "Confessor", then maybe somewhere down the line he goes to this retreat center, but a gorgeous babe like Allison strolls in and it's off to the retreat center right now. Then again, someone on the inside might be very useful. I knew I had to report back to Henry right away. Henry beat me to it. The phone rang. An excited Henry babbled breathlessly. "Rollin, thank God. Listen, something has happened to Libby. I got a call from Mary Beth's parents. The girls, as best I can piece it together are in...in jail." He was frantic with worry in his voice. "Slow down, Henry. In jail where?" "In Goshen, West Virginia." "What were they charged with?" "This is the unbelievable part. Soliciting for prostitution." That was unbelievable. Three college girls on a camping trip, stopping off in a small town to peddle their asses? "Look, Henry, I'm licensed in West Va. I'll get down there. In the meantime get some cash together. We'll need bail. Don't worry, this is all some gigantic misunderstanding. I'll sort it out." I said reluctant goodbyes to Allison and jumped in the car. It was late in the day and I probably couldn't do much until morning. The drive to Goshen took four hours. It was late when I got in. I remembered only cheap mom and pop motels from my salad days, but here was a brand new upscale lodge from a major chain. Odd for a town this size in the middle of nowhere. **************************************************************** The jail was a brand new concrete and glass building along the river south of town. In fact everything in the town looked brand new, like all of a sudden there had been an infusion of money. I opted for a small diner to have breakfast in, like one the locals might use. A friendly waitress with plastic rimmed glasses and big hair was not shy about telling me all about changes in the town. "Those church folk came in here and things really took off. Built a new high school, civic hall, and that park on the river. Real nice people. Keep to themselves, though. That compound of theirs is up on Panther Ridge, up where those DC people used to have summer cabins. Tore 'em all down, built that center. They've been good for the town though, so I guess the powers that be leave 'em alone to do their thing--whatever it is." "You been up there?" "Lord, no. You just can't go up there. It's guarded and everything." I considered this as I headed for the county lockup. The town seemed clean, bright and prosperous. Had building that retreat center pumped that much money into the economy? One thing was sure, if the attitude of my waitress that morning was any indication. The town liked the money that came from the Revelation Church of the Atonement and were content not to ask too many questions. At reception at the Pendleton County Correctional Center, I encountered a portly desk sergeant who seemed to be in charge. "I represent Libby Mason. I understand she is here in custody and has been charged with a crime. I'd like to see my client." "Well, I'd let you see her, young feller," he drawled, " but truth is, she ain't here." "I was told she was in custody." "She ain't here now. She was released from our custody." What the hell? "Released to whom?" "Them church people arranged it--took her out last night. Plea bargain deal. Her friends weren't so lucky. They were tried. Found guilty. Sentenced to 90 lashes each, the little pullets," he chuckled. "In fact, they get the first 30 this mornin'. It's quiet around here today, so I tell you what--you act as civilian witness--regs say we got to have one--and you can talk to 'em afterwards. If they feel like talkin' that is. I imagine all they gonna be doin' for awhile is cryin' their pretty eyes out. They're gonna get a right smart whippin' this morning." He shoved a form at me. "Fill this out, and we'll take you to the Corner--that's what we call it. They're going to carry out the sentence directly." I hastily filled out the form. "How are they to be punished? And when was this trial?" I said impatiently. This didn't sound like due process--though it was well known that in the wake of various states' corporal punishment initiatives--many out of the way places dispensed rough justice, without much regard for constitutional niceties. "Whoa there..er...Mr Hand," he said noting my name. "First off, the trial was held in special session two days ago. They had the public defender. They were found guilty. Second, what they get is the 5 tail cat--it's a whip with 5 thongs--we call it the "pussy cat", right across their bare little tails. Now here's Bobby Sue," he said, nodding to a hefty unifomed middle aged matron approaching the desk. "Take Mr Hand here to the witness viewing area in the Corner." "Come with me, Mr Hand." I walked with her down a corridor then out across an interior yard over toward a block-like structure in the corner of the yard. She chatted as we walked. "Yeah, can you believe it? These little madames comin' down here for the weekend and trying to pick up our men and lure them to sin. Well we have a cure for that--a red hot bottom, that's what. They'll think twice now before they ply their tricks in this county." "Ah, can I ask...if you know...what exactly was the evidence that they were, um, soliciting?" "Why, the complaint was made by Earl Judson, a fine upstanding man, a deacon at my church. They were out on the road thumbin' a ride and Earl picked 'em up. Next thing you know they want to do all kinds of things to Earl--for money. Well, Earl didn't take 'em where they was goin'. Brought them back here and told the sheriff. He locked them up so fast their heads was spinnin'. Now I think a good old fashioned whippin' will teach them a thing or two. Here we are. We call this the Corner. It's our disciplinary block." The Corner was a high ceilinged building, very utilitarian. There was a glass partition for spectators and some chairs. Inside the glass was a large chamber, maybe 30' by 40'. There were two fixtures that looked like a type of exercise apparatus. One was an inclined frame that was narrow, like an easel affixed to a vertical post. It had a pair of rails joined at the apex and flaring out toward the ground to about a foot apart. There was an adjustable padded crosspiece between the rails and what were buckling straps for wrists and ankles at appropriate heights. The other device was a low bench with a cylindrical bolster in the middle and a series of straps for securing a person face down. There were leather straps and multithonged whips of various lengths hanging from pegs on the wall. The room was obviously used as a storeroom, too. There were boxes and cartons of stuff all around along with building materials and rolls of carpeting stacked along one end. The lighting was incandescent which gave the interior the look of a gloomy shed, refitted for the grim purpose of punishment. I could hear voices approaching from a corridor at an opposite wall. They were frantic high-pitched voices and they were pleading and protesting. "Please no, we didn't do anything. This is a big mistake. WE didn't solicit anything...please believe me...that man...he is lying." "Yes, look, we were just on a camping trip...no please..." Two attractive girls, each about twenty or nineteen were hustled into the room on the arms of a matron in the garb of a sheriff's deputy. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs. They wore nothing but underwear, full cut white panties and white tank tops. Apparently they'd been prepared for the whipping back at their cells. One was tall with long light brown hair, the other was a short busty blonde with big blue eyes. Both were pretty. The brunette had long legs and was slim-waisted with narrow hips. The blonde was more voluptuous but had a pinched waist, wide flaring hips and athletic, almost stocky, legs. The girls quailed visibly and sagged at the knees when they saw the dull black padded whipping frame, now bathed in light from overhead spotlights, and the rack of implements on the wall. "Oh, no," wailed the blonde, "Oh my God...don't do this to us." The guards paid no attention. This was routine. Another day at the office. A man in a rumpled uniform entered, along with another female deputy and a tall athletic-looking younger woman dressed in a workout suit like a gym teacher's. She looked big and well-muscled, like she lifted weights. She had on shorts and a sleeveless blouse; sturdy Reeboks with good traction. She's the whipper, I thought. Yep, she walked over to the wall and studied the rack of flagellation devices, finally selecting a whip with several thin thongs about two feet long. She swished it around, testing its weight and flex. "Lori, you got the right whip?" said the uniformed man. "Sentence calls for the adult female correctional martinet." "Yes I do, sheriff. It's this one here," said the young woman in the gym garb. "Well then let's get started." Turning to the girls he said, "Mary Beth Quinlan and Celeste Jensen. You two have been convicted of soliciting for prostitution. The judge pronounced sentence, which in this county is 90 lashes and an order to stay out of the county for two years. We cannot give you all 90 lashes today. They will be given to you in intervals of 48 hrs. You will get the first 30 here and now." "But we didn't do anything...we were just walking--our ride left us," the brunette was pleading, the blonde nearly in tears. "Too late for that. The judge has spoken. Let's get on with it." Nodding to the brunette's matron he said, "Start with her, that's ah...Miss Quinlan." He looked at his Order to make sure. The matron said, "Come on honey. It'll be best if you cooperate--you could get your sentence increased. You don't want that, now." Protesting and shaking in fear, Mary Beth let herself be led over to the frame. Quickly and efficiently, as if this move had been practiced or performed many times, two matrons unlocked her cuffs, bent her forward and cuffed her wrists and ankles to the frame. Her body was extended along the frame at a 45 degree angle. One of the matrons reached underneath her and slid the crossbar along the frame until it rested right at her pelvic bone. This made her buttocks stick out from the frame. After the frame had been adjusted, the girl with the whip, Lori, nodded to Mary Beth's matron. She came up behind Mary Beth and hooked her fingers in the waistband of the panties the girl wore. Mary Beth shrieked in protest but the matron slid the flimsy garmet down to Mary Beth's knees. Her bare bottom and the backs of her thighs were now framed between the short tank top and the bunched up panties. Mary Beth was tall but had nicely rounded bottomcheeks. She shivered in fear and looked anxiously back over her shoulder at Lori with wide frightened eyes. Lori was positioning herself, measuring the distance so as to be able to strike properly with the multi-thonged whip. There were 5 thongs, thin, like bootlaces, and very supple. She pulled the strands through her fingers, drew back her arm, and with a smooth practiced motion brought the whip down square across the crowns of Mary Beth's buttocks. The nude bottom cheeks rippled at the impact. Mary Beth let out a screech. Whisssh....thwack! Another stroke raised livid red weals. Mary Beth yelled in anguish. Whooosh...swick! "Yeowww!....please, no! It hurts!" Whissh...swick! More red lines appeared across the pale bottom cheeks. Another shriek from Mary Beth. It took about 5 minutes to administer Mary Beth's whipping. The lashes were about 10 seconds apart, and each one was given with the full strength of Officer Lori's arm. Mary Beth tried to dance to avoid the whip but only ended up making her bottom jiggle lewdly. Thin red lines merged into a crimson, then nearly purple band of welts that ran from the top of her ass to the tops of her thighs. She wept with pain and embarassment. The lashing continued until all 30 strokes had been duly meted out. The matron released the straps. Mary Beth was crying profusely. She had to be held up by her guards who yanked her panties back up over her swollen rear. It hurt so much she could only touch herself gingerly. Now it was Celeste's turn. She appeared to almost swoon as the sheriff motioned for them to secure her to the frame. Celeste was a short blonde with her hair in a ponytail and bangs in front. She had muscular thighs which almost made her look stocky, but she had a narrow waist and a prominent bubble-shaped rear. Strapped to the frame, and bending slightly, her behind jutted back inviting the whip. Celeste yelped as her panties were jerked down around her knees baring her full white bottom. Lori assumed a businesslike stance to her left and, dipping her body for a windup drew the whip back and swooshed it down. It struck with the same dry thwack! The strands rebounded from Celeste's bouncing bottom. The nates rippled with impact and Celeste shrieked in pain. The young fit officer whipped Celeste with a will, determined to punish the pretty coed as severely as the law allowed. Lash after lash decorated Celeste's bounding fanny with thin red weals. Celeste squealed and wriggled as much as Mary Beth had, but Lori was unmoved. When the 30th lash had fallen, Celeste was taken down. Both girls continued to sob as they were led away. The female deputy that brought me in escorted me back to the desk. For the first time I noticed that she had different insignia on her uniform from that of the sheriff. I asked her about it. "Oh that's because this is a contract facility. I'm not part of the sheriff's office proper." "Who runs this facility?" "Well this here is the county lockup, work farm and correctional unit. I work for the outfit that runs it for the county--Corpun is the company name. Run a tight ship--like that Lori. She's not a deputy either. Works for Corpun. They trained her. Whew! And I can tell you I wouldn't want to be on the other end of one her whippin's. That gal is strong. I seen some tough women come through here sentenced to a whippin' or just a good strappin' for breaking rules and such...and she always leaves 'em blubbering and crying for mercy, their mommas or just about anything." That was interesting news. I now had to wonder if Corpun had something to do with Libby's arrest. An hour later I got to talk to Celeste and Mary Beth. They were allowed into an interview room. I told them who I was, and why I was there. They were frantic. "You've got to help us. Please. They're going to whip us again in two days! I couldn't stand it. God, it hurt like blazes and was so embarrassing," entreated Mary Beth. "Where are your parents?" I asked. "My mom is coming from California, but it took her awhile to get a flight," said Celeste. "My folks are in Italy," said Mary Beth, "and I hope they can get here and stop this thing. Can you do anything?" "Well tell me what happened." "It was Trey," began Mary Beth, " he left us--at that rest area. He just took off. I don't know why. Just drove off while we were in the bathroom. We couldn't believe it. So we finally decided we'd better hitch a ride back to town before it got dark. This guy picks us up. We thought he was nice, but he drove us straight to the police station and went in. Next thing we know the sheriff come out and arrests us all. Says we propositioned him. We couldn't believe it--like it was all some joke." Celeste broke in. "Yeah they brought us here and locked us up. Wouldn't let us make a call. We were screaming and hollering to be let out or to just make a phone call. They just told us we better behave or else." "We should have shut up, but we didn't. They took Libby to another cell by herself. We kept demanding to be let go. Then this beefy head guard and two other matrons come into our cell and grab us. They took us down the hall to this room. The head matron tells us she's gonna teach us a little lesson in obedience in her jail. She tells us to drop our pants. While they're watching we have to take down our pants and stand there with our bare behinds exposed. And all the time she's like, lecturing us." "Yeah," continued Celeste, "this head matron drags out a chair and sits down. They drug Mary Beth over to her and she flipped Mary Beth over her knee like she was a little kid." "It was horrible," said Mary Beth. "She pulled me over her lap and started spanking my bare bottom. It hurt! She just spanked and spanked. She must have hit me a hundred times! My butt was blazing. All the while she kept asking me if I was going to behave in her jail. I broke down and swore I would, but she just kept on smacking me. It hurt. I was wriggling, trying to get away. Then I just started crying. She finally let me up and they grabbed Celeste." "It was the same for me," admitted Celeste ruefully. "She put me across her knee like a ten year old and gave me a harder spanking with her hand than I think we got with paddles on initiation night. I was blubbering and crying and promising to be good. I couldn't help it--it stung so bad. After that we shut up. We didn't want a repeat of that, I can tell you!" "So you went to trial...what...on Saturday?" "Yes, but it was more like kangaroo court. We had this lawyer who did nothing and the judge believed this Earl...something or other...that we propositioned him! It was ludicrous!" exclaimed Mary Beth. "What about Libby?" "We didn't see her. We were told she plea bargained and was sent to some church halfway house." "The Church of Atonement?" "I think so," mused Celeste. Turning to Mary Beth she said, "Isn't that the church that Trey got her into? That kind of nutty thing about atonement for past sins?" "Yes--I think it was. They talked about it in the car, how you had done all these things--in past lives even--that had to be cleansed or something. It sounded like some mumbo jumbo to me. She and Trey were like a couple of enthusiastic kids about it. I didn't get it." "So Mr Hand can you help us? Please? If you don't we will be...w-whipped...again. God, in two days!" implored Mary Beth. "I'll do everything I can, girls. I suspect that I will have to try for Federal Habeus Corpus--I think the local system has been corrupted, but I don't know how or why yet. And I need to find Libby." "Please Mr Hand, whatever you can do," said Celeste imploringly. "Nothing ever hurt so bad and was so humiliating to boot as having my bare ass whipped like that--you just have no idea." She was right, I didn't. But I was going to find out, and much sooner than I would have liked.
Atonement Ch 5 Distractions. That was the problem. I hadn't found Libby yet, and I had committed to helping Mary Beth and Celeste escape a second painful whipping scheduled only 48 hours from now. I thought about calling Henry but decided to see first if I could confirm that Libby was indeed with the Church of Atonement, at, I suspected, its compound outside of Goshen. I got directions from the desk sergeant. "You head out of town past the old courthouse--just keep going 'til the hard road runs out near the old Lambeth place. You'll see the gate to the compound." I drove as he directed. The road dead-ended at a guardhouse of sorts up in what the natives call a "holler", a cove backed up against foothills. A road appeared to run straight up the creek up the mountain. Barbed wire was stung on both sides of the road. As I drove up, two men in paramilitary clothes were casually stationed next to a small hut. They didn't look particularly friendly. The whole thing was strange. Why did a religious compound need guards like this? Conversation with the guards turned out to be fruitless. They wouldn't let me in, give out any information, or call up anyone. I was at an impasse. I realized that what I needed to do was to secure a writ from the Federal Court in Elkins and have it served by US Marshals. Although I knew that threatening these guys with legal process was a useless exercise, I couldn't resist a parting shot as I drove away. "I'll be back guys--next time with a US marshal." One of them stared blankly. The other went into the hut and picked up a phone. I pulled over in a dirt pullout and called Henry's number on my cell phone. I got Jessica. Jessica filled me in on the latest development. "Henry got a call from Corpun's president, Al Laroche. He wants to deal. He said that they could have their lawyers contact the Church of Atonement and see if they can help. Henry was desperate. He said he'd sign anything if they could help him get Libby back safely. Laroche hinted that he could do that. Henry is on his way to DC." This whole thing stunk of fraud. "Look, Jessica, can you get in touch with Henry?" "He always calls in when he gets where he's going. He's not going to meet Laroche until tomorrow." "We need to call him and tell him not to sign anything. This whole thing is a setup. Someone set out to frame those girls on this stupid phoney solicitation charge and separate Libby from them, then use her as leverage. I'm sure of it. What I don't know is how or why this wacko church is involved. I also have these two other girls to worry about, which may have been part of the plan, a distraction to make everyone spin their wheels. I need to find the nearest Federal court. I know it sits in Elkins, and I'll get a Habeus writ for all three of them. Don't worry, I'll get them out. But Henry needs to sit tight. I believe Libby is safe." Jessica agreed. "But we need to hurry, Rollin. He's frantic." "That's what they want, Jessica." As I hung up the phone I was startled by a frantic hammering at my passenger side window. A young, attractive brunette clad in what looked like an old timey frock motioned to me. I rolled down the window. "PLease, you've got to help me. They will be coming soon. Let me in!" She looked like a refugee from Little House on the Prairie, except that her hair was matted and her skin was scratched up. She'd been bushwhacking through the brush, it looked like. I opened the door and she climbed in. "Go! Drive, please," she entreated, looking wildly over her shoulder behind us. I put it in gear and peeled out. When we hit the hard road she seemed to relax a little. She said her name was Christy Connor and she had been living in the commune of the Church of Atonement. She had run away, she said because she was to be punished and she was afraid. "I was ordered to go to the Punishment Hut. That's where they hand out the real punishments, not the light, ritual cleansing we all go through, but the real thing, for disobedience or disrespect." I wanted her to tell me more but decided to wait until she settled down and got herself cleaned up. I told her my problem and the time constraints on it. She said she'd gladly accompany me as far as Elkins--she just wanted to get as far from Goshen as possible. We stopped at a country store and I got her some jeans and a shirt to replace the dress. Then I spotted a motel and paid for a room so she could clean up and use the shower. The girl that emerged from the motel looked completely different from the scared, ragged fugitive who had pounded on my window. She was a slender girl and looked very fetching in tight jeans. She had long chestnut hair that hung well below her shoulders. Christy had a youthful face and large brown eyes that gave her this wild-eyed innocent look. She was a very pretty girl. And she wanted to talk. We got back on the road. I drove and listened to her story. "I thought the Church was what I needed. I went to a sermon given by the founder. Have you heard of him? Father Noah?" I shook my head. I'd never heard of this guy. "He is so moving, so charismatic... afterwards I just knew that he could provide direction to my life. I felt like I lacked direction and I just had these lingering guilt feelings about the way I was living my life, and he said we could all purge these feelings and be really happy and accepted for who we were. So I just thought, you know, I'd go to one of their centers and see. And they were so loving and forgiving--I mean even when I had confessed to all this bad stuff it was ok because I was going to atone and then it would leave forever. Do you see?" I didn't, but I nodded anyway and she went on. "I went through a few days of sessions with a counselor then in a group with others, and then they said I should join them at the commune. That it would be a new way of life. So I did. I wanted to live there--with them--like a family." "Well, what happened?" I said. "When I got there, everyone was real nice. I was put in a cabin with the novices. It was like summer camp. There were 6 other girls in my cabin and we had a leader, a woman named Betty who was sort of a housemother. We were in this group and there were 4 cabins in all built in a rectangular sort of arrangement with a little courtyard in the middle. That was the first thing I noticed--what was in the middle of the courtyard--it was a pair of old fashioned stocks, you know, like they put the Pilgrims in. It looked kind of scary but I didn't say anything. Betty explained to us that they believed very strongly in corporal punishment here--that it was all part of the 'penance', and that we as a cabin had to hold up our end of work details and such or we could get put in the pillory, as she called it, and get swats. Well that gave me a shock. But she also said that the punishments were not so bad--more embarrassing than anything else, sort of like a sorority initiation. She explained that as novices we were to be like children and that we would be seeking our 'inner child'. An important part of cleansing was to reconnect with that child and atone for the past. "Did you know that physical correction was going to be part of this experience?" I asked. "Yeah...I mean, I didn't know for sure, but it was hinted at. Reverend Noah talked about it in all of his talks. Like how we all were sinners and needed to experience actual physical correction to be properly cleansed. He also said nature had provided humans with the perfect place to experience punishment without any lasting harm and how it was just and proper for us to be treated like the children we were. So I knew, I guess, although they never really came out and said, that spankings were a part of it." I nodded. Christy continued. "There were four cabins with a girls' and a boys' section in each one. Everyone was young. We all seemed to be in our 20's or late teens. I found out later some of the novices were people who had been in jail and had agreed to come to the commune for counseling instead of being in jail. The other thing was that everyone seemed to be, well, attractive. I mean it was odd--like they had allowed only attractive people to be there. "I was there for nine weeks. It was sort of like a commune and bible camp. Girls wore these long dresses. Boys wore trousers or shorts and a white cotton shirt with a striped tie. The costume marked us as novices. At first all we did was hold group discussions. They had our files from before so they knew all about us. This was in between bible study and work chores. Two Counselors, a man and a woman, came in and conducted these 'sessions' I guess you'd call them. Their names were Stan and Lorna. They were older than us, in their 40's. Lorna was a very prim, somewhat large woman. She dressed like a schoolteacher or a librarian, you know, flowered dresses and sensible shoes. Stan was handsome, with sort of greying hair. Real down-to earth. He looked like he'd worked outdoors like a cowboy or a dock worker. The first week we just talked. The second week, wow, things got interesting." I interrupted her story. "Did you get to meet anyone named Libby, Libby Mason?" She shook her head. "I knew everybody in my part of the compound. Unless she used a false name..." she shrugged. Then she continued. "We sat around in a room and confessed to things we'd done and were never caught at or punished for. See, Rev Noah says that we aren't aware of it but there is all this horrid guilt and sin and it must be purged. So first we had to get it out--tell somebody--then make amends for our sinfulness. "That second week at the camp they stated going one by one and assigning penance. This girl named Shelly was first. She had admitted that when she was 11 she had set fire to her little brother's baseball card collection out of spite. She always felt bad about it. No one ever knew she did it. He kept it in this outdoor clubhouse. He thought one of the other kids had done it. Her parents were really mad and her dad said that whoever had done it should have had his pants pulled down for a good belt whipping. So Stan suggested that someone should play the role of her father and give her the belting she should have had way back then. The place got real quiet all of a sudden and we all looked at each other like, 'did we hear that right? Is Shelly going to get a spanking?' Then came the next surprise. Lorna asked us all how many belt licks did we think Shelly should get for burning her brother's collection. We were all shocked that the group was being asked to discuss this--I mean we were all shocked anyway that this was going to happen right in front of us, but we talked about it and decided that 15 good licks was what Shelly deserved. From Stan. "Then Stan and Lorna made Shelly come up front while Stan sat on this padded bench. He asked her if she was ready to atone. She was nervous and sort of stammered out a weak 'yes'. Then Lorna got this strap from a closet. It was about a foot long and 3" wide and had a wood handle. Stan guided Shelly over his lap face down and pulled up her dress in the back. We all had on nothing but sheer panties under the dresses. She screeched at having her panties exposed in front of everyone, but he just held her there, wriggling, her butt bouncing over his knee. But that was not all. Our eyes popped out at what came next. Stan said the belt licking had to be given on the bare. Shelly went stiff when she heard this and screamed 'no!' Then before she knew it, Stan rucked her panties down to her knees. So there she was, bare bottomed over Stan's lap, kicking and screaming. Then Lorna handed Stan the strap. He smacked her 15 times with that strap. I'll never forget the sight of her fanny jiggling each time it landed. It didn't look like he was hitting her hard, just enough to make it sting a little. She wriggled when he smacked her, and toward the end she kind of drummed her feet on the bench. She said later that at first it tingled, then it stung a bit but that when it was over her ass was hot and it actually felt good. She was embarrassed though--putting her big bare hiney on display like that. He even made her stand in the corner with her red ass showing while we talked about her punishment. "Sounds embarrassing," I said. "You say they didn't spank her very hard?" "No, and here is the strange part," she said, lowering her voice, "she told some of us later that it actually turned her on, like the heat in her seat made her horny. I'm not kidding...and it happened to the rest of us too. We all had our turn. David got a bare bottom spanking over Lorna's knee for telling lies. She spanked him with her hand for two or three minutes solid, smacking him real fast, but again the smacks weren't hard. But David's penis got hard. I saw it when he got up off her lap. "Let's see. Then Ann got a bare fanny switching--that's what she said her mother would have done if she'd known that it was Ann who broke her glass tabletop when she was 9. Another girl, Carrie, played the part of her mother and this time Ann confessed. We voted that Ann should get the switching so Lorna went out for a moment and came back in with a skinned very thin switch. In the meantime Ann had to take her pants off and get in the corner to wait--hind end on display. When Lorna came back in she made Ann stand in front of Carrie and go through the whole thing. She had to admit to breaking the table and even ask Carrie to give her the switching she deserved. She bent over Carrie's knee and Carrie slid her panties down. Then, at Lorna's direction, she switched Ann's bare butt with little rapid flicks till Ann was going Ow! Ow! and pleading she was sorry. "You said this made some people horny. Why did you mention that? Did they make you have sex?" " They didn't make us. In fact, at first you could be punished even for...ah..." "Masturbating?" She blushed, then nodded. "Yes. In fact Carrie herself got a spanking from Betty for...masturbating. Each cabin had a housemother like Betty who took care of us, but who had authority to punish, too. There was this padded low seat like an ottoman or something that was bolted like a fixture in the middle of the cabin. It was in this common area between the boys' and girls' sides. It was real solid. Betty told us it was the Seat of Atonement and that she would use it to correct us if we were naughty. So when she caught Carrie frigging herself she gathered us all together and made Carrie take her pants down and get across her knee. She gave her a good brisk spanking on her bare seat. It went on for a couple of minutes, and while she was spanking she scolded Carrie for rubbing herself that way. Carrie's bottom got pretty red and she was kicking and squirming. She said it was harder than what we got from Stan and Lorna. One of the boys, James got put across her knee when she found his, ah, jism on the bedsheets. He lied and tried to deny it at first but then he admitted it. She lectured him about then took his pants down and spanked him pretty hard for lying. " "So how did sexual activity figure into this?" "Yeah--that was the strange thing. I mean first they tell you you can't, then they tell you it is part of the forgiveness process that follows 'cleansing'. With these ritual punishments going on, everybody was getting pretty aroused watching, and being involved even. So basically they built up the tension over a couple of weeks. Then they would assign someone to 'comfort' you. If you got punished as part of atoning for something, they would give you a private room and send in someone they chose to comfort you. You could have them rub cold cream on your bottom or other things like that--or touching--or even sex. "What about this pillory thing? Did they use that?" "Yes, they did. That was different. It started out with weekly cleanliness inspections. There was a competition to see who had the cleanest cabin. They said that the losing cabin out of the four would have to choose two members who would take swats for all of them. Those two would be locked into the pillories and be spanked with a paddle ten times by two chosen from the winning cabin. We got it twice, and the last time we drew lots to see who got chosen to take the punishment, I got chosen. "Did it hurt?" "Whew! It sure did! A boy from cabin 3 gave me my 10 swats and he did not hold back. Let me tell you, 10 swats on your bare behind from a pinewood paddle is no joke--worse than a spanking from Betty, and a lot worse than the penance punishments from Stan and Lorna. Everybody came out and stood in a circle around the stocks. We had to put our hands and heads in these holes then they lowered the upper board and locked it. The stocks were about 4 feet high so we were bent over sticking our bottoms out. Then someone pinned my dress back. The boy who got to paddle me also got to lower my panties. Wow! now that was embarrassing! They smacked us both at the same time, with a long wait between licks, really drawing it out. I was stamping my feet and yelling bloody murder--that paddle stung like crazy." "Is that why you ran? Fear of more punishment?" "Y-yes." Suddenly she was crying. "I know I should have stayed. I mean I loved my cabin mates and Betty, but I was afraid. I was told that I had been chosen as a Handmaiden to escort a Confessor to an initiation ceremony and I refused." "So what? Why did you refuse? What is a Confessor?" "I heard things about it, like how you might have to have sex with a Confessor and they could punish you at any time or hand you over to the Lictors if you don't obey. We were taught that Confessors are very high spiritual beings who have achieved 'cleansing' and must be obeyed." "Whoa. Wait. Who are Lictors?" "They are like enforcers. They wear these, like, military uniforms and administer punishment in the Punishment Hut for serious crimes like disobedience and disrespect. When I said I wouldn't go, Betty told me I'd been ordered to the Punishment Hut. I was going, but on the way there I got really frightened and ran into the woods instead. I kept heading down the creek until I saw the road then I saw your car. I-I don't know...maybe I should go back. I deserve to be punished. The Confessors know what is best for us." What a crock. This girl had obviously been brainwashed into thinking these "Confessors", whoever the hell they were, were high priests with a direct link to The Almighty. "Look, Christy, you have to think this over. I'm not sure these people have your best interests at heart. Why don't you come as far as Elkins with me then call your friends or parents or somebody?" She nodded her assent, then tired from her ordeal, fell asleep.
Atonement Chapter 6 Elkins wasn't far as the crow flies, but the roads to get there would wind through the mountains. We might be able to make it by close of business. If not, I would call on the judge at his home. And why not? My ace in the hole was that he was a friend of mine. So I was feeling pretty good despite the circumstances as I headed for Elkins. If I'd been a little more alert, I might have noticed the big Ford Explorer tailing us. We stopped at a mom and pop diner along Rt 33 for a sandwich. As we came out and approached our car someone came up behind me quickly. I turned, but too late. I felt a sharp jab in my thigh like a needle. Then the lights went out. *********************************************************************** It was cool when I came to. And my arms hurt. That's understandable when you're hanging by your wrists from a rope which had been thrown over the branch of a tree. My eyes focused on a blonde woman in tight black leather pants standing in front of me. The seriousness of my predicament became clear as I saw what the blonde woman was holding in her hand. It was a carriage whip or signal whip of some kind. It had a single snake-like thong attached to a long flexible handle. She was idly flicking it from side to side. She looked vaguely familiar but in my drugged -out state I was having trouble putting it together. Then she spoke. "Wake up, wake up. I see my naughty, nosey boy is waking up from his nap." That voice. I'd heard it recently. What the hell? "Nice to see you again, Mr Hand." She smirked and brushed wispy strands of blonde hair to the side of her face. Then I knew. Yep. That's who it was. Anna Klochek. Women's head matron at the correctional center on St John's. I tried to speak but the words wouldn't come. "You seem to find yourself at odds with people who don't want to be bothered, Mr Hand. Making trouble. Interfering. So now my client would like for me to give you a message." "W-who?" I managed to croak. Anna just smiled. "Let's just say my client wants people to stop sticking their noses where they don't belong." Anna continued. "Now, these nice people asked me to deliver this message because I have a talent for such things. But first, your new friend Christy has something to tell you." I hadn't seen Christy, but now she walked into my field of view. The jeans and shirt were gone. She was wearing some kind of brief tunic, like a Roman slave or something. An attractive 40ish woman accompanied by two younger men in their twenties stood nearby. "Christy has something to say to you, Mr Hand." Turning to Christy she said, "Go ahead, Christy." Christy started hesitantly, "I-I apologize, Mr Hand. This is Sister Betty, the Matron in my cabin," as she spoke she indicated the woman. "I've talked to her and I've realized that running away was wrong. So I'm going back with them. I didn't mean to get you in trouble." Her eyes fluttered and she looked imploringly at Sister Betty. "Please don't hurt him. He didn't know." Betty spoke next. "Don't worry dear, Ms Anna won't hurt him. He is restrained so he won't interfere with your correction for this stunt. You know how worried we were. You could have been hurt." "Yes, Sister B-Betty," she said, eyes downcast. "I know I deserve to be punished for running away." "Yes, you do, child, and I am going to have to punish you right now in front of Mr Hand so he will see that you willingly accept your penance for this deed. Are you ready, Christy?" Christy nodded. "Then take off your tunic, dear, and come here." Betty had seated herself on a log and pulled from her purse what looked like a piece of stiff oval-shaped leather with a wooden handle. She cracked it several times against her palm. Christy almost jumped at the sound, but undid her sash and pulled the tunic over her head and dropped it to the ground. Then she took off the blouse. Reluctantly she approached Betty, clad only in white nylon panties and a skimpy bra. The slender lines of her body and legs merged with a plump and beguiling bottom, the white cheeks of which bulged out from the sides of the skimpy panties. "Now, Christy," said Betty, "you know the price of disobedience is atonement, don't you?" "Yes, Sister Betty," said Christy in a small voice. "And you were disobedient running away, weren't you?" "Yes...I'm sorry." "And do you freely accept your punishment, here in front of your brothers and sisters and this outsider?" "Yes, Betty." "Christy, you did a childish thing, running away like that. And so you are to receive a punishment that befits a child. So place yourself across my lap, girl. I'm going to spank you very soundly, just like any mother would do to a naughty child who ran away from home." "Yes, Betty...I'm s-sorry. I won't run away again." "All right then, get across my knee, child." Christy blushed and draped herself over Betty's knee. Betty pulled her over and adjusted her so that her bottom was poised in a jacknifed position over Betty's right thigh. Betty slowly dragged the little panties down, baring Christy's exquisitely shaped buttocks. Christy was trembling, fearful of the stinging pain to come. In spite of myself, I began to feel arousal from the scene being enacted before me. "Reach back with your hands, that's it, give me your wrists." Betty was leaving nothing to chance. She held Christy's wrists in a hard grip at the small of her back with her left hand. Christy was totally immobilized. Her nude fanny was vulnerably exposed to the smacker in Betty's hand which was rising to shoulder level. With her right hand she brough the leather sole down on Christy's right buttock cheek with a loud crack! that rang through the stillness of the forest. Betty spanked Christy with hard wrist-snapping strokes that hit alternate cheeks in a fast stinging barrage that had Christy gasping in pain and wriggling over Betty's knee. The spanks were delivered with a steady Crack! crack! crack! Blotches of pink turned red as the smacking continued until Christy's once pale fanny had been spanked to a cherry red. Christy wiggled her bottom, bouncing over the lap of the stern correctress, and fluttering her feet as much as the panties tucked at her kneehollows would permit. "Aren't you ashamed? Will you ever do this again?" lectured Betty as she cracked the sole down again and again on the bobbing seat writhing over her lap. "Ow! Ow! I'm sorry! I won't run away. I'm sorry...sorry!" wailed Christy in time to the harshly smacking leather. Betty gave the girl a good hard spanking--a very thorough punishment that, elicited tears, pleas for forgiveness, and promises of better behavior. It must have gone on for a good 5 minutes, the steady SMACK SMACK SMACK of the leather and Christy's mewling echoing through the sylvan glade. Betty eventually stopped though, breathing heavily with exertion. She helped Christy to her feet. Christy was gasping for breath, sobbing and rubbing her inflamed buttocks. "Now, Christy," said Betty, "there is one more thing." "Yes, Betty?" said Christy, sniffling. "Ordinarily you might wish to be comforted, but today, since your transgression has involved an outsider, it is only just that you apologize to him. Now, I think that your friend has become very uncomfortable. Do you know why?" Christy shook her head. "He has become aroused, very aroused, through witnessing your punishment. You will relieve his discomfort. Take off your panties and bra." Christy stared, wild-eyed, her mouth open. "B-but..." "Now, girl! Or do I have to ask Ms Anna if I can use her whip?" Tearfully, Christy complied. I spoke up. "You don't have to do anything you don't want, Christy. Leave these people. Come with me. They are a cult, a mind-control cult. Don't you see that?" "I'd keep it buttoned if I were you," said Anna Klochek. She whispered in my ear, "We have a little date after they leave, so be a good boy or mama will spank." This last admonishment was delivered with a pat to my backside. Christy obeyed Sister Betty and slipped off her bra and panties, naked now in front of us. She had smallish breasts but they were nicely shaped and her slender hips flared revealing her lush triangle. "Go and kneel at his feet, child," said Sister Betty, nodding toward me. Chisty did as she was told, kneeling in front of me. "Undo his belt and pull his pants down." Again Christy obeyed the directive. My slacks dropped to my ankles. I tugged on my ropes--pointless. "Now, Christy, reach into his shorts and pull out his manhood. It is nice and hard, child, from watching your correction and seeing your nakedness." This was true. My cock was stiff from the spectacle of poor Christy's ass smacking. Christy did not need to be told what to do next. She ran her fingers along the length of my cock, stroking and teasing. Gingerly she bent her head towards my glans and softly kissed the head, top, sides and underneath. Then forming her lips in an "O" she slowly slid it in about halfway before clamping her lips on it and drawing her mouth back. She repeated this move several times before gulping deeper, engulfing the entire lenghth of it in her tender mouth. Then she began swirling her tongue around the head. Waves of pleasure washed over me and I groaned. Involuntarily I started pumping my hips in time to her sucking movements. I couldn't stop it. Spastic jerks signalled my cumming and I erupted into Christy's mouth. She gurgled as I came and cum dripped out of her mouth, but she kept sucking and pumping her hand on my swollen shaft. Sister Betty told Christy she could get up and dress and that she had done a good job giving me pleasure. I saw Christy sigh with relief and gratitude when Sister Betty told her that she would not have to go to the Punishment Hut and that her punishment was finished. Christy dressed and she, Sister Betty and one of the young men walked down the trail, out of view. Anna Klochek turned to me whip in hand, a wicked smile on her lips. "Well, Mr Hand it's just you and me. Malcolm, go take a walk, will you? We have something to discuss." Malcolm smirked and followed in the direction the others had taken. "If you think for a minute that I believe that girl is acting of her own free will, you're mistaken," I said with more bravado than I felt. "I'd release me if I were you. Kidnapping is a Federal rap." "Oh, I don't think you'll be telling anyone about this little party in the woods," said Anna, "after all, you were a willing participant, at least according to Malcolm, Larry, and of course, little Christy herself. Now before I leave you in this serene forest clearing, I'm going to give you that message I told you about. Since you have been butting in where you are not wanted, I think it is only fitting that the message be delivered to that part of your body that does all that 'butting in'. Turn around, please." She said this last bit in an almost sing-songy voice. My guts froze. She was going to whip my ass like I was a schoolboy. "Now wait a minute," I sputtered. "You can't do this. This is criminal." "I can and I am going to. Now turn around and stick your tushy out nicely for me. You wouldn't want my whip to land on any delicate parts, now would you?" She approached me and I thought to kick but my feet were tied together. She grabbed my shoulders and spun me around then almost in one motion she slid her fingers into the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down. I was now nude from my ankles to my waist and all I could do was hop and heave my body back and forth. "Now, Mr Hand, I think we'll start with a nice dozen and see where that gets us." I only heard the whine of the whip--I could not see it. But I sure felt it--a streak of fire that exploded across my ass. I jumped. The whip sang through the still air again and I felt another searing stroke. The pain was quite unlike anything I'd ever felt. It was sheer, bloody agony. She must have given me twenty or thirty strokes. I don't know. I didn't even try to count. All I know is I was overwhelmed by pain that made me feel like my hind end was ablaze. I screamed for her to stop. She told me to scream all I wanted, that no one would hear. She told me she liked my screams, that it told her the message was getting through. When she stopped I was hoarse from yelling, and I was gasping for breath. I hurt so badly I couldn't think. I was afraid of going into shock. She came around to my front. "I told you mama would spank. Now, I hope you understand that some people just want to be left alone." "Where is Libby Mason?" I choked. "Libby Mason is where she wants to be, and if you ask me again I'll add about another twelve lashes or so. Your ass is pretty puffy and the skin might break if I have to work you over some more. So take my advice. Go home. You don't know what you are messing with...and the next time it could get rough." Her answer told me everything I needed to know. They were hiding Libby and she was important to them. Anna wasn't that smart. Up to then I was ready to believe this was all about helping Christy the runaway. Now I knew better. I slumped in my ropes and watched Anna stride off through the woods. It took me a long time working my wrists in the ropes, but I finally freed myself. I had trouble putting on my clothes as my backside was a swollen mass of pain. A path led from the clearing and about a half mile later it emerged on a hard road. My car was parked with the keys in it. That surprised me. After kidnapping, assault, and battery, what's a little grand theft auto? I surmised that they were confident that their "message" had been delivered. "This is insanity. You won't get away with this." I was almost shouting now, but there was no one there to hear me.
Atonement Chapter 7 I drove through the thickening twilight towards Elkins. The pain had subsided a bit, but it would be days before I could sit comfortably. That old admonishment, "you won't sit for a week!" resonated in my memory. I had had a "right smart ass whuppin'" as they say in W. Virginia. But I had bigger problems than the state of my tender backside. I still did not know exactly where Libby Mason was, and I had to waste time trying to help the girls. I was able to convince my friend the judge to issue the Habeus writ. The next day found me back in Goshen presenting the writ to the sheriff. It was timely. They were scheduled to be whipped again that day at 3pm. If they had scheduled it in the morning, I would have been too late. I could visualize Lori, the "executioner" warming up her arm, swishing the martinet with those thickly muscled shoulders, and the girls, their eyes wide with fear, bound to the frame, their tender behinds stuck out, bare and vulnerable. This time I really could sympathize since my own backside was welted and sore. By this time, though, the girls' parents had arrived and were hard at work on their own to secure their release. The combination of the federal writ and pressure brought to bear by angry parents was too much for prosecutor in Pendleton County and the remaining sentence was suspended. So now what? I needed help in the form of intelligence into the workings of the Revelation Church of Atonement . Then an idea came to me. There was a guy I knew in DC, William Wolfe. Bill and I had gone to school together. After undergrad, Bill had gone into the service where he had made his way into Naval intelligence. From there he was recruited by the CIA, but had left after a few years to form his own security firm in the DC area. We had talked over the years, and I had once extricated his teen-age daughter from a nasty situation involving underage drinking and vandalism. She had said she was only along for the ride. I believed her. She's a nice kid. Bill was happy to hear from me. And there was another surprise. "Rollin, I can't believe the timing on this. We are working for a company whose CEO has a daughter who has joined this Church of Atonement, and he's very concerned. His name is Dave Kraft and he believes his daughter Elaine has been brainwashed. At his request we have started an investigation. Come on up and meet with us and we'll share information." Bill had an office in Tyson's Corners. The name of the firm was JLO Security. "So what does JLO stand for?" We were sitting in Bill's office catching up with each other. "Not a damn thing," said Bill. "When Kim was little she went through a phase when all she would eat was Jello. I guess that memory stuck with me. How have you managed to stay unwed?" He asked, changing the subject. "Luck. Timing. The ones I wanted got away, and I escaped the ones mom warned me about." I shifted to the business at hand. "So this church--what do you know about them?" "Ah," said Bill, "not much now, but we will soon. Not a whole lot is publicly known and they have a reputation for silencing detractors. We have someone on the inside, a woman from our organization. She volunteered to go undercover to see if she could get a line on our client's daughter." "Where is she now?" "She has entered the Church's commune in Goshen--where you were turned away. She is posing as a novice, eager to go through their program, whatever it is. But here is the thing--we are using some brand new technology, small wireless fiber optic lens cameras and audio transducers. She took these in with her and can hide them all over the commune. They will actually be transmitting data continuously. So if our client's daughter is there, she will find her." I was astonished. "How long have you had this stuff?" "It's brand new in the civilian security market, the spooks have had it for some time." "What's this girl's name?" "Lisa Tallmadge, but under cover she is 'Cathy Riggs'. She came to us from a police department in Minnesota. A little green, she's only 24--and looks 19, by the way--but very bright." "Bill, I don't want to alarm you, but do you have any idea what these people do in there?" Bill didn't, so I told him. Everything that Christy Connor had told me. "Holy shit, Rollin. You are telling me that Lisa is very likely going to get her ass shellacked several times over." "There's more." I told him about my run-in with Anna Klochek, and the story of how I came to make her acquaintance. "Then we'd better get going. These people are seriously whacked. And that could be dangerous. That cult mentality lumps the world into two factions--us and the enemy. I was going to give Lisa a week to get in and get acclimated before we set up the monitoring station, but now it looks like we need to get going." "Where is the monitoring station?" I asked. "Oh, yeah, that's the thing. It has to be within about 400 yards of the subject. These tiny transmitters run for a long time but they don't have much range. This is a clandestine op, and we need to be in the field close by. It means infiltrating the property and setting up in the woods near the commune. We set up a dish, connect a laptop and start recording." ************************************************* The away team was me, Bill, a partner of Bill's named Jim Groves, and a woman named Wendy Savin. Wendy was an attractive blonde in her 30's, and was the field link tech and computer expert. She knew her stuff about the equipment and was pleasant to have around. She smiled a lot and had a dry wisecracking sense of humor. She wasn't very "outdoorsey" though, and I wondered how the camping out would go with her. She seemed willing to try though. Jim was the outdoor type. He would do the climbing and the close-in surveillance. He was an ex SWAT team cop and a veteran. The field link would transmit via satellite back to JLO. I called Henry and brought him up to speed. He agreed this needed to be done, since it seemed to provide a reasonable chance of finding his daughter. Once we had evidence of what was going on, we might get a court or the police to intervene. Still this aspect bothered me. There was no evidence of kidnapping. It appeared to be a religious cult that practiced corporal punishment rituals out of a sense of guilt. Sounded to me like my old Catholic grade school. The sex part didn't. We had never had that at Saint Alphonse's. No little eighth grade beauty had ever been appointed to "comfort" me after a paddywhacking from Sister Mary Josephine's trusty ruler. But there could be more. The Punishment Hut didn't sound very consensual and the thing Christy had said about "initiation" and being a "handmaiden" to a "Confessor" sounded ominous. I also got in touch with Jane and asked her to find out anything she could about Corpun and Noah Chrossman and the Revelation Church of Atonement. She promised to get right on it. "I wouldn't want you to think I was slacking off, boss. I would just dread the Friday reckoning when you got back if I had no results." I'll just bet you would, I thought, but I didn't say that. It had been awhile since I had gone backpacking, but once again I found myself laboring up a hill through a wooded ravine, keeping out of sight. We had entered from the opposite side of the property and were on our way up to a ridge which overlooked the commune from the South. Our plan was to climb trees to situate the dish antennas which were camoflaged. We set up tents and prepared for a long stay. There was no telling how long we would have to monitor to get something useful and didn't know how much of the commune Lisa had been able to cover. One option she had was the use of fiber optic hand held camera/ mic combination but this would require her to "spy" from a hidden location, a risky strategy. We hoped to iron out the details of the operation once we were in contact with Lisa. We opened up the link on a Wednesday evening. Lisa had been there since the previous Monday. She had picked a spot off a trail in the woods to speak with us directly. Otherwise the only way she could do it was in code in conversation with others. When we turned on the computer, we saw where the equipment had been placed. We could toggle between several different inputs and thereby monitor a number of spots in the compound. First we had a view of the common area inside Lisa's cabin. Then another scene showed the open courtyard outside and the ominous pillories. A third camera/mic combination went into a large room, a day room or classroom, we couldn't tell which. Yet another view was of a large ampitheater. We hadn't heard of this before. It was built into a hillside and covered, but was otherwise an open air structure. At the center was a stage with an upright wooden post on it. The post had an iron ring at its top. "It looks like a whipping post," marveled Wendy. I nodded. "Fits what we know so far. It's probably for some big ceremony." Wendy gaped. "Would they really use that?" She seemed fascinated. We could see groups of people moving through the field of view of the various scenes. We could also zoom the cameras to get closer. This was useful, especially with the ampitheater cam, because it had what appeared to be a major traffic area or crossroads in its far field of view. The first thing of note that we saw took place in the "classroom". A group of men and women entered and sat around in a circle. The women wore plain dark tunics over white blouses, the tunics hemmed above the knee and white knee socks. This made them look like Catholic schoolgirls although some were plainly in their 30's. The men wore dark trousers, crisp white shirts and striped ties. An older man and woman conducted a session that sounded like group therapy. Lisa was there, and from time to time she would cast glances at the camera. She looked nervous. The facilitators, who referred to themselves as Brother Robert and Sister Marian were leading a general discussion about the need for atonement when a pretty girl named Linda spoke up and shared how she had felt bad about drinking in college, how it had wrecked her grades. She had flunked out and felt like she had let her parents down. The discussion went around the room with everyone weighing in about Linda's failings and how they had done similar things. It looked and sounded like a 12 step meeting. Then the discussion apparently reached a turning point. "Sister" Marian said, "So Linda, are you prepared now to atone?" This was the big question. Each one of these participants would be asked to pick an incident about which they felt especially guilty, share it in group, have it discussed and dissected, and suggest their own way to pay the debt and relieve their guilt. "Y-yes, Sister, I am ready," quavered a nervous Linda. "How do you hope to atone, Linda?" asked Brother Robert. "W-well," said Linda, "my friend Emily came home drunk once after a date and her dad took off his belt and wh-whipped her. She told me about it later. He put her over the end of her bed the next morning and gave her a hard whipping across her u-underpants with a thick leather belt." Addressing the group now Brother Robert asked everyone if that punishment seemed fair. Some did, but most thought that she should get it bare. After all it was a long series of infractions, not just one. "I think, Linda, that it is time for you to experience the cleansing pain of correction for this sin. Are you prepared, sister?" asked Marian. She said, "I, uh, g-guess so." She was like a deer in the headlights. We watched as another surprise unfolded. "Who would be willing to play the part of Linda's father?" asked Brother Robert. "I will," said a rather clean cut, serious looking young man in his early 20's. So they were going to allow a fellow novice to act as disciplinarian--an interesting touch. Brother Robert addressed him. "So, Ethan, can you suggest how Linda's father should have dealt with her, and how you would assume that responsibility?" Ethan spoke right up. "I think Linda should have a sound whipping--with a leather strap. I will punish her, brother, for her own good." Heads nodded in approval, but beneath the formal sanctimonious posturing there was a palpable sense of excitement at the ritual about to unfold. Sister Marian spoke to Linda. "Do you accept Ethan's suggestion for your atonement, Linda?" Linda blushed and stammered, "I-I do, I guess..." "Very well," said Brother Robert. "There is a punishment strap hanging from a nail in the closet, Ethan. You may proceed." We watched the monitor, transfixed as Ethan retrieved a short leather strap dangling from a wooden handle. He apparently had decided to put her over his knee because he sat in an armless chair and motioned for her to approach. Linda looked very unsure of herself as she reluctantly edged towards Ethan, now seated with the strap held in his right hand. Gingerly she laid herself across Ethan's lap. With much ceremony he slowly lifted her skirt revealing a very attractive bottom clad in white full cut panties. Linda blushed as Ethan admonished her to hold onto the chair leg crosspieces. He asked her if she was ready and she stammered a reply indicating assent. Ethan slowly peeled down the white panties exposing a fully rounded white bottom. The panties came to rest at Linda's knee hollows. He hefted the strap and announced the sentence, 39 strokes. It was an astounding sight, an attractive, fully grown woman in a childish schoolgirl tunic suspended over the lap of a man close to her age, her bare bottom luridly exposed to the gaze of the dozen or so participants. Ethan raised his arm and brought the strap down with a sharp thwack! leaving a pink band right across the lower portion of her hind cheeks. Her twin moons wobbled with the impact, and she emitted a shocked gasp of pain. Thwack!...Thwack!...Thwack! The cracks of the strap came through loud and clear on the hidden mike. The others began to count the strokes, like it was a ritualistic chant. 7...8...9...they intoned as the strap continued to smack the redenning globes of Linda's fanny. Linda started to squirm. By 20 she was emitting groans of distress. By lick number 30 she was softly drumming her toes on the floor and the wriggling had become more pronounced. At the last few strokes her body arched backward and she tensed up and yelped as if it were all she could do to hold on and endure the shameful licking. The strap had colored her seat a bright red which stood out sharply against the whiteness of her lower back and thighs. Having delivered a very thorough smacking with the short strap, Ethan now gently lifted Linda and set her back on her feet. Linda's hands went immediately to her injured nether cheeks and she rubbed her bottom under the skirt which had fallen back down while shifting from foot to foot in obvious discomfort. "Congratulations, Sister Linda, you have taken a major step on the path toward total atonement," stated Brother Robert somewhat formally. "Everyone, let us rise and embrace our sister." Everyone stood up and one by one, each gave Linda a hug. Ethan was last. She approached him shyly but everyone clapped as she hugged her punisher. It seemed there were no hard feelings. As the meeting drew to a close a smiling Sister Marian asked Linda if she would like "comfort" from Ethan. She blushed demurely but accepted with a nod. Hand in hand Linda and Ethan headed for a back room. We were watching for Lisa's reaction and she turned toward the hidden camera and gave us a wink as if to say, "Get a load of that!" There was even more activity later on. The "housemother" was a woman known as Sister Edith. Sister Edith ran a tight ship. In front of the assembled household she announced that two of their company had failed to do properly assigned chores and had snuck off into the woods to avoid work instead. This was a serious offense. We watched as two of the young men in the group dragged out of a storage closet an apparatus with a padded top that looked like a half barrel on legs. Two women, both in their 20's were the culprits. They had long downcast looks on their faces as they endured a thorough scolding from Sister Edith. During the scolding we could see their eyes shifting apprehensively toward the ominous looking barrel apparatus. When the lecture was over Sister Edith retrieved a sturdy rectangular paddle of the school/fraternity variety which hung on the wall from a hook. Slapping the paddle smartly in her palm she pronounced sentence on the two delinquents. They were sentenced to 10 swats each. So, one at a time, in full view of the company, each woman lifted her skirts and bent over the barrel to take her ten licks. Each woman wore nothing but thin panties under the skirts. Joanne, a medium height brunette, was first. She leaned across the "barrel" and lifted her skirt to reveal a plump seat in panties that could not cover all of it. The lower part of her bottomcheeks bulged out of the leg bands on the side making her fanny almost bare. Sister Edith took her position, tapped Joanne's quivering seat a few times with the paddle, then methodically applied 10 hard smacks to the seat of each woman's panties. The crisp Smack! of the paddle hitting flesh and a screech of anguish defined each deliberate lick. The paddle was heavy and caused Joanne's ample fanny to flatten momentarily on impact before spring back into a fully rounded shape. The deliberate paddling caused much frantic wriggling and elicited fervent pleas for forgiveness. It was a serious punishment and Joanne's reaction told us she had been thoroughly chastised for the indescretion. A blonde named Anne was next and if anything she reacted more vociferously to the painful paddling. The steady Splat! Whap! Smack! made Anne wriggle shamelessly and beg forgiveness between yelps of pain. Twice she leapt up clutching her bottom and twice she had to be ordered to assume the position once again and present her bottom for correction. The treatment caused more than a few tears to flow and we could see the pained expressions afterward as both punished women rubbed their bottoms trying to ease the sting during the after-punishment lecture on obedience to the rules. We watched in amazement. Wendy just shook her head. "Oh my God, what has Lisa gotten herself into?" We all wondered that.
Atonement Chapter 8 The next morning there was activity in the classroom. The classes were mostly boring lectures on the Bible centered on the passages most relevant to the church's beliefs. But then there was a surprise test passed out by the instructor. It apparently caught several students unaware. After several minutes of frantic scribbling the papers were collected. The lesson continued as if nothing had happened. But that afternoon, a stern visaged instructor, a "Brother Oliver" read the names of several unfortunate individuals who had flunked the test. There were nervous glances all around, especially among those who had been on the list. There was some relief when the teacher announced that extra study assignments were to be given those who had not done well. This relief was tempered with the announcement that one of their company would be chosen to atone for the sins of all of them. This was a serious matter--botching a bible study test, and the unfortunate sacrifice would be publicly punished in front of them all. Brother Oliver produced a bowl with a number of colored stones in it. All were white except for one black stone. The 5 who had flunked the test were made to draw one at a time to see who would accept punishment for the group. The black stone was drawn by a voluptuous brunette named Dorothy. She gasped as the black stone was revealed. "You have been chosen to atone, Novice Dorothy. Your punishment will commence in full view of the assembly tonight. You will be punished by one of your own in this group of novices. Those 5 with the highest grades on the test will now draw to see who will administer 12 strokes of the razor strop to Dorothy this evening in the courtyard pillory." The task fell to David, one of the older men in the group of a class of about 50, probably the entire novice group from the compound of four cabins. We hadn't noticed it before but he was referring to a 15" strap attached to a wooden handle that hung from a hook on the wall of the classroom. Brother Oliver took it down and ceremonially handed it to David. "See that you lay on the strokes well, Novice David, so that your sister Dorothy will truly feel the righteous pain of correction." Dorothy's face was a mask of dismay. The strap looked very supple and heavy. Later, after supper, Lisa finally reported in. She had slipped off with a minicam/mic because when her image came up she was in some small enclosed area like a broom closet, a small light bulb hanging from a string the only light. "I can't talk long. We're supposed to assemble in the common courtyard at 6:30 to witness punishment. Did you see that? How they drew lots to see who would get it? That woman Dorothy's going to get a strapping. This is crazy here--these people are very strange. And Will, it's only a matter of time before they get to me. Everybody has to do this ritual atonement. My turn's coming." Even though she was on our side, I couldn't help but be intrigued by the prospect. Lisa was cute blonde with a curvy figure and I had to wonder what sort of story she would make up. After all, she couldn't blow her cover. Will spoke, " Lisa, we'll try to pull you out before it comes to that." Lisa looked at the camera and gave a little smile and a shrug. "Don't worry about it. I can take it. It's not so bad--the girls all say it doesn't hurt too much--except the paddle--that's a real stinger. Hurts like hell." Will continued, "But, have you found anybody? Is Elaine there?" Elaine was the daughter of Will's client. "I think so," said Lisa. I'm pretty sure she is in one of the other novice cabins. I think it's her but she cut her hair. You might be able to pick her out in the classroom because we all go together there." "Ok, we'll look harder, but with the camera position we see a lot of backs of heads and not much else." "Look," said Lisa, "I'll try to find her in a few minutes when we assemble and get her in the field of view. Look for us in front just past the pillory." "Also," said Bill, "Can you get a minicam in this place they call the Punishment Hut?" "That's risky," said Lisa with a shiver. "They take people there for serious infractions like blasphemy or fighting and stuff. What happens there is not these little paddywhackings. Anyone who is sent there is further along anyway, not a novice, I hope." "Show us where it is and we'll sneak in and plant one." "Ok" said Lisa. "I'll transmit the exact location next chance I get. Gotta go." Her screen went black. At 6:30 our attention was focused on the screen showing the courtyard with its pillory in the center. First the assembled group of the fifty or so novices emerged from the cabins and arranged themselves in four rows around the perimeter of the courtyard under the direction of their "housemothers". When all were in place Dorothy emerged from her cabin escorted by David strap in hand and another older woman who must have been one of her counselors. Dorothy was clad in a flowing white cotton nightgown. Waiting at the pillory was the teacher we had seen in the classroom wearing what looked like an old-time minister's frock and carrying a book that looked to be a bible. Dorothy was escorted to stand in front of the minister. "Novice Dorothy are you prepared to accept punishment on behalf of your wayward brothers and sisters in full view of this assembly?" Dorothy managed a squeaky "y-yes." She didn't look too certain about it. In fact, she looked more like a deer in the headlights--with nowhere to run. "Then let us proceed with a prayer before we chastise our sister," intoned the black clad leader. We heard some crazy mishmash of passages read from the "bible", and then the order was given to prepare Dorothy. The crosspiece of the pillory was lifted and Dorothy was made to bend over and place her head and hands in the half circle cut outs. The upper board was lowered and secured with pegs. Dorothy was bent over at an angle of slightly less than ninety degrees, but even so her haunches jutted obscenely, the twin globes of her bottom clearly outlined by the filmy material of the gown settling in her bottom cleft. There was a hush as Dorothy's gown was lifted to reveal the nude bottom beneath. The ends of the gown were secured with pins to the pillory. The fact that she was naked under the gown probably surprised no one. Dorothy had a prominent and shapely derriere. She was a voluptuous girl, short in stature with stocky legs but a narrow waist that emphasized the swelling bottom globes even more. The unveiling of Dorothy now complete, the minister addressed David. "Novice David you have been given the task to teach our sinful sister the error of her ways. See that you lay on twelve stripes hard and true." David nodded and stepped to the rear of the pillory. Taking a stance, he hefted the supple strap. Dorothy trembled vivibly as he prepared to administer the strokes. "I wish for you all to count the strokes as they are given," said the minister, addressing the assembly. "You may begin." David drew back, then his arm came down with a blur. The starp impacted Dorothy's fanny and it flattened momentarily. THWACK! "One," chanted the crowd. WHAP! "Two." "Ouch...unhh..." wailed Dorothy, trying to wiggle from side to side. THWACK! "Three" The strap cracked like a pistol shot against the wobbling seat. WHACK! "Four," continued the throng THWAP! "Yeowww....unhh....please. Oh it hurts!" Dorothy's shrill protest competed with the intonation of the stroke count, "Five". We were so wrapped up in watching this ritual strapping that we almost missed Lisa gesturing with her head to the woman next to her. Will saw it and pulled out the picture he had of an attractive long haired brunette of about 25. It was true she had cut her hair to a short bob, but the young woman standing there was indeed Elaine, the daughter of their client. She appeared glued to the spectacle, whether in excitement or trepidation, we could not tell. "Well, it's her," murmured Will as we watched in rapt fascination as David delivered smack after meaty smack to the defenseless rear cheeks of the unfortunate Dorothy. The strap left vivid rectangular bands of red that were now merging into an angry red mass. THWACK! "Nine," came the chant. They sounded almost excited, as if mesmerized by the lurid punishment spectacle. Dorothy was sobbing now. The humiliation and pain of the strapping had taken their toll. She wailed again as the tenth lick fell, wagging her bottom back and forth as much as the cruel pillory permitted. THWACK! "Oww....oh....ow," cried the sobbing girl. "Ten," came the count. WHAPPP! "Eleven," they chanted. THWACCKKK! came the final hard slap from the supple leather. "Yeoww....oh....ow...uhhh," bleated Dorothy as the final count of "twelve" was uttered by the assembly. Dorothy was writhing and crying, rising up and down on her toes, wiggling her red, swollen buttocks as if this would alleviate the awful sting imparted by the strap. The strapping completed, they unlocked the stocks and let Dorothy rise. The white gown fell back over her covering her backside. She sobbed quietly and could be seen gently rubbing what was surely a flaming bottom. The preacher addressed everyone and they all bowed their heads in prayer as he said something about true atonement having been achieved by Dorothy's suffering and how she was an inspiration to them all, having been whipped for the sins of others. We could see several in the crowd nodding seriously, eating it up. Then, David, her punisher, took her by the arm to lead her back in. Lisa cocked her head toward Elaine and approached her. As they dispersed for the evening, we could see them talking. We could expect to hear from Lisa later, it would appear. Throughout the day I had been watching Wendy's reactions to the disciplinary dramas being played out before our eyes. At times I could detect a shortness of breath and a genuine flush creeping up the back of her neck. And it was plain to see that the nipples of her breasts became, at times, hard and distended. I wondered if our voyeuristic interests in these proceedings were exciting to her. She was pretty in a cute way with her short curly blonde hair. She was not a supermodel, but she had a very nice figure, one that was perhaps a bit hippy given her sedentary lifestyle. But she looked very fetching in the tight jeans she wore that hugged her hips and rear like a second skin. It looked to me like watching all this was a sexual turn-on for her. I had to admit to some stiffness in my own pants, too. *********************************************** Based upon data supplied by Lisa, Bill and Jim thought they had located the infamous "Punishment Hut". The next morning they decided to scout it out using surveillance telescopes while Wendy and I continued monitoring the vid screens. Our attention turned to another group session. This time however, it was indeed Lisa who was the object of the group's focus. Her luck had run out. We watched, fascinated as "Cathy" nervously recounted some imagined (or maybe real) story about sneaking out to a forbidden party and smoking or drinking. She admitted lying about it, and added that she had never been caught. We thought she was laying it on a bit thick, but then she did not want to blow her cover. The group leaders asked her if she was ready to atone and purge the guilt of her lying and deceitfulness. Having told a story to stay in character, Lisa was caught, and had to nervously answer "yes" while casting worried glances at where she knew the camera was. Wendy and I looked at each other and shrugged. What could we do? If we came charging in like the cavalry, the whole thing was blown. "Cathy" was just going to have to grin and bear it. The group was sure that Cathy's burden would be lifted if she submitted to a good hard spanking from one of them as proxy for her mother or father. What Lisa didn't want was to be expected to have sex afterwards with one of the members so she opted to talk about how her mother was the disciplinarian in their family. The result of the communal thinking was that Meridith, one of the older female members of the novice group would punish Cathy. There was no help for it. Meridith sat on a chair and Cathy had to lift her skirts and lay across Meridith's lap. Some one handed Meridith a small paddle. Lisa tensed as Meridith drew down Lisa's panties to her knees exposing a pert and very sexy little rear end. No set number of spanks was announced. Instead the group leader brought out a timer and announced that it was set for 5 minutes. "A good hard spanking for a full five minutes should be a proper punishment for you, Cathy," she announced. To Meridith she said, "Make sure that you spank rapidly and hard, so she receives the full effect. It will not help her if you go lightly on her. It's for her own good. The cleansing pain of the paddle will wash away her guilt. Start the timer." Meridith heeded her words all to well. She brought the little paddle down with crisp hard swats that resounded off the walls and quickly reddened Lisa's bobbing fanny. The cute cheeks jiggled with every sharp spank. Spanking on alternate sides with less than a second between smacks, Meridith quickly reduced Lisa to the vision of a yelping wriggling teenager enduring a sound motherly spanking. It looked especially authentic since Lisa looked so young and Meridith was older. "God! Her bottom must really be stinging," said Wendy. "Look at how red her ass is getting." It was true. It did not take long for Lisa's spank spot to look like a pair of red glowing beacons. Her legs were fluttering uncontrollably straining against the panties down around her knees. "Oooh, I wonder what that feels like," breathed Wendy, obviously enthralled with the spectacle. The way she said it, it sounded like she'd like to trade places. The spanking seemed to go on and on. Lisa fluttered her legs and wriggled like an eel as the paddle imprinted its stinging lesson on Lisa's cute spank spot. It was a rapid-fire right-left-right-left spanking of her wobbling globes that must have stung atrociously. After awhile the mics were filled with the din of smack! splat! whap! sounds competing with Lisa's high pitched "Yow...ahh...ooh...nnhh...yeow...stop!...please!" When it finally stopped and Meredith let Lisa up she did what looked like an almost authentic war dance, hopping around from foot to foot and rubbing her inflamed bottom vigorously, her mouth open in shock at the amount of hot sting in her nether cheeks imparted by the little paddle. ******************************************************* We were so wrapped up in watching Lisa get her atonement spanking that I almost missed seeing Libby Mason walking through the amphitheater. I saw her out of the corner of my eyes and froze the screen before she disappeared from view. It was definitely her. With her were two older men and a young guy. One of the older men had a full head of white hair, a short beard, and wore a purple robe. Noah Chrossman himself. I recognized him from pictures. I guessed the younger guy was Trey, the boyfriend. I didn't know who the third guy was, but I had a hunch. I attached the frame captures to an email message and sent it to Jane with instructions. Meanwhile there was mail from Henry. Corpun thought they had made progress on finding Libby and they wanted to talk to both Henry and Jessica at The Greenbrier, a posh resort in Southern West Virginia. Henry and Jessica were on their way there. I could not reach them by phone. When Jane received my email, she called me back. "What do I do with this, boss?" "Get two things--search for photographs of all officers and board members of Corpun, and get their home addresses. Send them here ASAP." When I hung up, Wendy said, "She calls you boss? How cute. She sure seems determined to keep you happy. Very efficient." I told her how I maintained that efficiency just to see Wendy's reaction. Her eyes grew as big as saucers. "Are you kidding? You keep a log of her mistakes and punish her...ah...physically? And she wants it that way?" I explained the rather odd dynamic between us, leaving out the sex part, of course. Wendy licked her lips. "What do you actually do?" she asked. I explained how I usually just put her across my knee and spanked her soundly and how that seemed to set things right. Wendy was clearly intrigued, but our conversation was interrupted by the return of Bill and Jim. "We found the Punishment Hut," said Bill, "and another building right next to it with some strange machine inside. Take a look while we pull it up on the monitor." I wanted to know how they got inside undetected to install the bugs. "I was a spook, remember?" he said with a broad smile. "Anyway, it was not guarded." They switched inputs and two new views came up. The first was of a room with a high ceiling, bare walls and cement floor and several devices for restraint placed around the room. There were boxes painted on the floor connecting a square. Inside the square were several short boxes each with a T-bar coming up about a foot from the floor. On a far wall hung a variety of ominous looking implements-- paddles, straps, leather or rubber covered switches, I couldn't tell. In front of the painted square was a dias upon which rested a curved bench with five chairs where a tribunal might sit in judgment of the condemned. In the shadows to the back of the room was an apparatus that looked vaguely familiar--it was a copy of Henry's spanking machine. The other view was even more instructive. The machine Bill had described was also an attempt at a copy of Henry's spanking machine. It lacked a number of refinements. Noticeably it did not have the sexual attachments. There were packing boxes on the floor, as if the machine were being moved. "Can you zoom in on the slip on the side of the packing box?" I asked. "Sure," said Wendy. "Here. The image grew larger and came into focus." "Freeze that," I said. It was an address in Great Falls Virginia, but the remainder of it was blurred. I needed to get into that building for a closer look. I composed a hasty email to Jane and brought Bill up to speed. Given that I had to wait for data from Jane and that Bill had to wait for a message from Lisa, there was nothing much to be done, so we waited. After several frustrating hours of hearing nothing our wait came to an end. In the view of the Punishment Hut, we saw the doors open. Four novices were escorted inside by two men and two women wearing military looking garb. They were followed by five robed figures with cowls pulled over their heads to hide their faces. The leader of the female guard detail was Anna Klochek. The four novices were a red-haired woman of about 25 and a male of about the same age. The other two were Lisa Tallmadge and Elaine Kraft, and they looked terrified.
Atonement Chapter 9 Each of the four were made to stand on the small squares laid out like a diamond in the center of the large hut. The robed figures took seats behind a semicircular desk on a raised dias like some grim scene from the Inquisition. The figure in the center addressed the four. "Your devotion to the Church, novice sisters and brother, has been called into question. Therefore to ascend to the next level, you will have to prove yourselves worthy." We wondered what had happened. Had Lisa been found out? Had she tried to talk Elaine into leaving and had been overheard? Clearly it was Bill's objective to extricate Elaine from this cult, but all of us had known that given the psychology of an impressionable newcomer, Elaine might not want to leave. And we knew it would not help to go charging in. That could even backfire. All we could do was to watch the bizarre scene unfold on its own. His next command was startling in its simplicity and menace. "Disrobe. Completely." The four stood still like they were in shock. "You have heard the order of Confessor Steven," said Anna Klochek harshly. "Take off all your clothes. Immediately." This was a different attitude from the Church of Atonement. No longer a warm and fuzzy guilt remission or even a fair and just penalty for some minor transgression, this sounded like these novices were in for something serious. Confessor Steven. Well that meant that it wasn't Chrossman, the big cheese. I wondered where he was, and where Libby was, but it would have to wait. Looking at one another nervously, the four began to strip. The women were very attractive. Lisa was petite and athletic. Elaine was taller and long-waisted but had wide hips and nice legs. The redhead whose name I didn't know was slender and willowy with a smallish top but a full and round pouty derriere. The guy was handsome--brown curly hair, a medium build, maybe kind of thin. All of them clearly met the cult standard for attractiveness. Why did this cult accept only good looking people? After a few anxious moments of clothes being discarded, the four stood there naked and shivering. Under the gaze of the five hooded figures they stood there waiting and casting nervous glances about the room. The head "Confessor" then spoke, "Alicia Cole, you were discovered consorting with this young man, Curt Smoltz. This was forbidden except pursuant to a ritual atonement, novice sister. You were aware of this rule, were you not?" "I-I...er yes, sir," squeaked Alicia. "And you, novice brother," said the robed figure, turning to Curt, "you knew it was forbidden to touch a sister except as ordered by your house matron or your group facilitators." It was not a question. "Ah...well, we thought...," he started then sagged and gave up. "Yes, we knew the rule." "The pleasure that remits the necessary pain of atonement is for us and us alone to permit. By taking it upon yourselves to engage in these relations you have violated a strict rule of our order. You must be punished for this. Do you accept your just punishment for this infraction?" Both Curt and Alicia looked at each other for a moment then nodded. "Very well. Sister Anna will punish you properly as befits your offense. You will obey her without hesitation." Anna Klochek strode to the center of the room and spoke to the two. "Both of you, stand in front of those boxes with the T-bars. Do it now," she barked. "Quickly." Curt and Alicia walked up to the T-bars. They stepped into holes in the boxes. The way the T-bars were arranged, they faced each other, about 6 feet apart. "Sister" Klocheck's assistants slid a slat into the rear of each box effectively locking them in. Anna walked to the wall and selected a wooden paddle, about 18" long and 4" wide. It was made of some composite about a quarter of an inch thick. She walked behind Alicia who could only stand there, trembling. "Bend over and grab the bar, both of you" she ordered. They obeyed. Given the bar's height, they were bent at a 90 degree angle at the hips. "Look in each other's eyes now," commanded the blonde with the paddle. She tapped Alicia's seat with the paddle. It looked like she flinched. Then Anna drew her arm back and delivered a scorching swat to Alicia's tender bottom. The sound of the paddle landing on resilient bare female fanny was like a loud gunshot. Alicia's fanny wobbled with the impact and she screamed in pain. "Hold on to the bar," cautioned Anna, and she laid on another ferocious crack with the paddle. Alicia cried out again. At the third hard shot she let go and half stood up. "P-please, I can't... " she wailed. "You will," said Anna coldly. "Now BEND OVER!" A reluctant Alicia bent over, presenting her hindquarters to receive the kiss of the paddle once again. She gripped the bar tightly. Anna took carefully measured aim with the paddle and drew back her arm. The paddle whooshed through the air in an arc and landed flat across the crowns of Alicia's sit spot. CRACK! Her bottom wobbled and she let out a pitiful cry. The paddle whooshed again and landed with a loud SMACK! "Oh...oh....oh.." was all Alicia could bleat. Then the blonde mistress moved over to behind Curt and tapped his buttocks with the paddle. He jumped as he felt the touch of the wood. "Hold on. Look straight ahead--into her eyes, so she will see your pain." Curt gritted his teeth, steeling himself for the ordeal. She administered five hard shots to Curt's buttocks, spaced about ten seconds apart. Curt hissed and grunted in pain as each searing lick landed, but had the fortitude not to let go. His eyes, like those of Alicia had welled up with tears. Both Curt and Alicia were breathing heavily wincing with pain. Anna Klochek paced slowly back over to Alicia. She took her stance behind Alicia and to her right. Five more times the wicked paddle cracked down onto Alicia's ass-- now a flaming red. The girl was starting to cry now. She fought to hold onto the bar. Then Curt took five more hard licks. He hissed through his teeth at the awful sting of the hard paddle smacking his defenseless buttocks. Anna Klocheck walked between them. Their eyes followed her nervously. They dared not let go of the bar and remained bent over, their painfully reddened bare bottoms on lurid display. "You may rise," she told them. "Bring the frame," she said motioning to her assistants. The two other women moved smartly to do her bidding. From a storeroom in the back they wheeled into the center of the room a contraption that looked like a stepladder with padded crosspieces on both sides and braces between the two inclined frames that formed an A-shaped apparatus. "Secure them," she ordered, "and prepare a pleasure pad for the female." I saw one assistant smirk at this order. They unlocked the T-bars and brought the pair to the frame. Curt was secured straight up leaning along the inclined runners. I noticed that his penis was partly turgid and it bobbed as he moved. They secured Alicia to the frame and then brought in a padded crosspiece that had a stout looking rubber dildo secured to it, pointing straight up. Alicia's eyes grew wide as the guard positioned the rubber phallus at the entrance to her quim. There was some sort of internal slider mechanism on the ladder turned by a crank. As Anna Klochek turned the handle, the dildo slid into Alicia's pussy. She moaned, partly in embarrassment and partly in pleasure. The next command was even more electrifying. "Bend over Alicia, and take Curt's penis into your mouth. Do it now girl," she barked, noting Alicia's hesitation. Alicia looked around the room, wild eyed. "Take his cock in your mouth girl," Sister Anna barked. Alicia gingerly slid the glans of his penis between her lips. Curt visibly stiffened. "Now pleasure him," Anna commanded. Alicia started sucking on Curt's penis, running her lips up and down the shaft. At the same time she rocked her pelvis, impaling herself on the dildo and rubbing her clit against the rough textured base. We watched the scene completely enthralled. After paddling the two miscreants the mysterious robed figures were ordering them to do the very thing that got them into trouble. Alicia was giving Curt a noisy and vigorous blow job. Wet slurping sounds were clearly audible as was Curt's moaning as he involuntarily rocked his hips in time to Alicia's sucking. In the middle of all this, Anna Klochek nodded to her two assistants who walked over to the wall and selected a pair of leather plaited switches. They moved behind the pair bound to the frame. Curt and Alicia froze momentarily when they felt the tapered switches touch their tender bottoms. "No one told you to stop," said "Sister" Klochek. "You will now be switched and while you are being punished you will continue what you are doing. And...", she paused for effect, "the switching will not stop until you both reach climax." Alicia shuddered but resumed the slurping blow job with a renewed sense of urgency. Curt moaned and pumped his hips. Klochek's two female assistants drew back their arms. Swick! Swick! Swick! The licks from the switches fell rapidly--brisk wristy strokes that landed on both sets of squirming buttocks. Alicia screamed shrilly, and for a moment Curt's turgid cock popped out of her mouth and bobbed obscenely before Alicia could gather herself and resume. Curt's hips jerked each time the switch landed, forcing his shaft deeper into Alicia's mouth. She made glugging sounds and writhed on the upright dildo as the stinging whicks of the switch tortured her well-reddened fanny. The switching went on for several minutes. It must have been an exquisite torture for the pair, poised on the cusp of sexual climax while being whipped. Their movements grew more frantic until Curt moaned loudly and his whole body stiffened. We could see the spasms of climax making his body jerk like a puppet on a string. All the while Alicia pumped her hips shamelessly and sucked Curt's cock with abandon. She too stiffened and her body quivered spasmodically, jerking around on the impaling dildo. Anna commanded the whippers to stop. Both Alicia and Curt hung limply on the frame, totally spent. The "chief inquisitor" spoke. "Pleasure to soothe the pain of atonement is for we and we alone to decree. Do you now understand this?" Both Alicia and Curt managed a weak "yes". "Release them," he said, "and return them to their quarters." Another attendant released the pair from the frame and helped them get their clothes on. Without another word they were led out. Attention turned to Elaine and Lisa. "You have been overheard," said the cowled figure, "discussing erroneous doctrine, voicing doubts as to the authenticity of the word of Reverend Chrossman. You are leading each other astray." Lisa spoke up. "N-no, sir, we're not..we believe in the, ah, holy church doctrine. We..." "Silence, child. Do not deny these things. And you, novice Elaine, do you deny speaking about these things?" "Ah...you see, well we talked, and maybe..." "You see my children, and you are children in the eyes of the church, these thoughts, these doubts, talk of running away, it is the Evil One tempting you. Do you see that?" His voice was softer now, soothing. It was a tone of concern for their spiritual well-being. Lisa did not want to blow her cover. Maybe she needed more time to work on Elaine. But someone had heard something and reported them. She took a deep breath and said, "We are sorry sir, ah, Stephen and we..." "That is good child, for you can atone for your wayward thoughts, before this assembly, and return to your home in our midst. Do you accept the cleansing punishment of atonement, wayward sisters?" Lisa and Elaine looked at each other. Lisa knew there was no way out of this. We watched transfixed as she said "yes". "Your punishment will be different. We will use the machines. Bring two machines to the center of the square," said Stephen to Anna Klochek's two male assistants. So the machine was operative, I thought. The two moved to do his bidding and dragged a pair of machines into the square. I saw immediately it was not exact, but a near copy of Henry's machine. The machines consisted of a kneeling bench, like a leg curl bench in a health club, with an upright enclosure to one side. An arm extended from the enclosure. There was a console on the other side with electronic controls on it. It was lacking the monitor and the laser range finder. I surmised that it was a mechanical version of Henry's and lacked the sophisticated software. The girls eyed the strange contraptions fearfully. "For your penance you will be placed in the punishment machine until we feel you have made proper atonement. Hans and Jorge," said Stephen, addressing the two young men in the psuedo-military uniforms, "place these novices in the mnachine and fit them with the leather paddles as Sister Anna directs." The two men smiled, and procured the small leather oval paddles from hooks on the wall. One took Lisa by the arm and the other took Elaine. Before the girls could react, Hans and Jorge had taken them to the benches and had flipped the two naked girls face down across the padded surface. Pinioning each securely with a securing strap across the back and behind the knees, they inserted the paddles into sockets on the arms and waited for a command to begin. The flustered girls wriggled and twitched, their legs waving in the air. Hans and Jorge each fiddled with the controls. There was a whirring sound as the arms moved the paddles to press them squarely against the sweet spot on each girl's bottom. When the calibration had been finished, each man nodded to Anna. Anna produced an hourglass with sand in it and set it on a low table in front of the girls. "When I turn the glass over, start the machine. When the sands run out, you will stop it." Lisa and Elaine stared at the glass in alarm. We looked at each other with a grimace. There was a lot of sand in that hourglass. "You may begin," she said, flipping over the hourglass. Hans and Jorge each pushed a button. The machine began to make a whirring noise and each arm drew back. The articulated arms moved with surprising speed and fluidity and commenced a brisk smacking of the girls' fannies. The splat of leather on female behinds resounded through our monitors. Lisa had closed her eyes and was trying to endure her whacking stoically. Elaine was squirming and emitting little yelps. The paddles, I noticed did not look all that severe. The leather hit with a dull whop, which had the sound of a bedroom slipper. Still, it must have stung. It was certainly embarrassing for young women in their twenties to be secured nude across the pads to have their fannies smacked like children. And to be sure they were getting a good smacking. The paddles cracked down causing bottoms to jiggle and legs to flail. Elaine had the fuller bottom and the paddle caused definite ripples in the flesh when it struck. Lisa's fanny was smaller and more muscled, but it too was getting a sound tanning under the rapid fire barrage of smacks from the spanking machine. When the sand finally ran out 5 minutes later, both sets of bottomcheeks were a hot pink color. "You have both been prepared--now for your real punishment," said the chief inquisitor. "Fit the machines with number 2 switches." Elaine and Lisa reacted with startled surprise that the ordeal was not over. They craned their necks trying to see what Hans and Jorge were selecting from the wall. The men each took a thin rod made of some synthetic material. It could have been fiberglass or a hard whippy plastic. They locked these implements into the sockets on the machines, and went through the calibration routine again. "Now my little novices," said Anna with an evil smirk, "now you will discover what atonement is really all about." To the men she said, "Set it for three minutes on rapid automatic, intensity level 7." I didn't like the sound of that. Was 10 the highest? When the settings had been made she said, "All right. Begin." Lisa gritted her teeth. Elaine lowered her head. The machine arms pivoted and whipped the switches down. They landed with a crisp splat! against the girl's backsides. Then in the blink of an eye, whick! whick! whick! the switches fell hard and fast. The girls' reaction was immediate. "Ow...yow...hooo...make it stop...please, it hurts!" Both girls yelped and cried at the sudden fiery onslaught. They wiggled their backsides and kicked their legs as much as the straps would allow. It looked like the degree of pain imparted to their seats by the rapid switching was something they were totally unprepared for. Anna Klochek and the robed Confessors gazed on in stoney silence as the girls blubbered and pleaded for mercy. For three awful minutes the relentless machines whipped the wriggling buttocks of the unfortunate girls. Thin red lines merged into a mass of fiery welts as the switches' constant whick! whick! whick! traversed from the top of the thighs to past the crowns of their tender seats and then back down again. At three minutes the machines abruptly stopped. Lisa and Elaine were sobbing and crying in pain. "I trust you now see the error of your ways, my novice sisters. I hope we will not have to punish you in this way again." "Y-yes, sir. Oh no you won't," said Lisa. "Please let us go?" "After you have experienced a more personal touch," said Confessor Steven, smiling. The smarmy bastard, he was enjoying this. To Hans and Jorge he said, "Put them on the pleasure frame--use the deerskin floggers. Make them cum." Hans and Jorge lifted the blushing mortified girls to their feet. In the meantime, two sets of a different looking apparatus were being wheeled into place. Each looked like a frame with a waist high padded horizontal bar extending from an upright post. On the end was a black rubber penis and a series of nubs or ridges forward at the base of the dildo. Hans and Jorge led the girls to each frame and made them straddle the bar impaled on the dildoes. They then secured them lying lengthwise along the bar. Their hands were tied to the post. This put them in a bent over posture with the bar supporting their tummies and upper body while their bottoms arched out over the end of the bar, their feet touching the ground. In this posture they could raise and lower themselves on the phallic members and rub their clits against the little nubs. With wrists secured to the post and feet in manacles both girls awaited the whipping. Hans and Jorge under direction from Sister Klochek selected multi-thonged floggers from the wall and approached the bound novices who were tearfully looking over their shoulders. Perhaps it was the enforced nudity, perhaps it was the heat from the childish spanking or the heat from the switching, but both women were squirming and moving against the frames before even the first lash fell. I now understood. The whole idea had been to punish and to release sexual pleasure at the same time, to blend the two together so that a penitent could not tell where one ended and the other began. The command was given to commence the flogging and the whips fell at measured intervals. The thongs spread out across hot flushed bottoms that jerked at impact and bodies writhed against the padded frames. As the whipping continued both women began to rock their pelvises, humping the bar in an imitation of the love act, the delicious friction driving them toward orgasm, spurred on by the steady application of the lash. If they slowed down, a few lashes urged them to pleasure themselves against the bar. After several minutes the flogging was halted. Both bottoms were streaked with red and purple welts. Elaine and Lisa had squirmed furiously and it looked like both had come to climax at least once. When they were released, the end of each rubber phallus with its little nub was glistening with slick fluid where their pussies had been. "Now, novice sisters, you have been punished. Do you wish to return to your group homes to resume your communion with our order?" said Stephen. I was beginning to think of him as "Sir" Stephen at this point. Both girls managed a weak "yes", probably more from exhaustion brought on by the ordeal than anything else. In my mind we had another clue. The punishment hut was a place of punishment and a place of conditioning--conditioning to associate the pain of "atonement" with sexual pleasure. But to what end I wondered? I had to put aside my musings though. What I needed was a closer look at the machine in the other building. Was that one closer to Henry's final design? Had they replicated it? This time there was no help for it--I was going to have to go in. How to do it undetected, that was the question. As we watched the robed "elders" or "elite" or whatever they were exit the hut, a plan began to form.
Atonement Ch 10 What I had noticed was that the hooded robes worn by many of the residents of this odd commune made them seem anonymous. It was common see these robed figures walking from place to place within camera view like they were tourists. Sometimes they were accompanied by comely women (and sometimes by young men) in what appeared to be a short tunic, like a Hollywood version of a Roman slave costume. The robes were mostly a light gray, although a few were colored. It must be some indication of rank. Stephen, the inquisitor in the Punishment Hut, had worn green. Lisa was able to report to us the afternoon after her visit to the Punishment Hut. "I'm sleeping on my tummy, that's for sure. My ass is red as a beet and feels prickly," she said from her closet hiding place. "But are you ok?" asked Will. "That was some licking you took." "Yeah, I'm ok. It was really bad, though. I've never felt anything like that whipping in the machine with that switch. I would have done anything to make it stop. I guess you noticed it got rather sexual though." "We saw that." Lisa shook her head. "Ohmigod...Will, they put us on those...those...things. I came twice while it was happening. I don't know what to say." "It's ok--what about Elaine?" "She's actually kind of torn. She was ready to leave but now she thinks maybe she should stay. She says they are talking about some initiation ceremony and then she will be a Handmaiden." "What's a Handmaiden?" "I think it's those men and women in tunics who trot around after the Confessors and the Elite, the guys in the robes. I think they sort of serve them and maybe they are sexual partners...I'm not sure." "We're just going to have to pull her out. Make it look like she flew the coop on her own--you too," Will added. "I'm ready. Two spankings and a switching in two days. It's like I'm 12 again and mom's on the warpath. This is too intense for me." "Listen, Lisa, we need something. Rollin, the guy who came with us, wants to know if you can put your hands on one of those robes, and if you could make a key mold for the building in back of the Punishment Hut." Lisa said she thought she could. There was a communal laundry of sorts and lots of them were around. She could do the key in 15 seconds so the trick was not being noticed. She made arrangements with Will to have Elaine near the perimeter of the compound on some pretext. They would do an abduction there and send her back to her father. I hoped that he didn't plan on giving her a spanking when she got home. From the looks of it, she had enjoyed herself. I snuck through the woods with Jim and Will to an area near a path behind the cabins. I was fitted with a wireless mic so that anything anyone said to me would be transmitted back to camp and recorded. Sure enough, Lisa and Elaine were there. They couldn't risk a scene with Elaine. Before she even knew what was happening Jim had grabbed her from behind and inserted a syringe in her arm. She collapsed like a ton of bricks. As Jim put her in a fireman's carry, Lisa handed me a cowled robe, a grey one. Perfect. I could get to the building and examine the machine inside more closely by pretending to be one of the robed brethren. It would only take an hour and it was dark anyway so I'd be in and out before anyone caught on. After the rendezvous with Lisa, Will had given me a key made from an impression on a resin compound that Lisa had jammed into the lock. More high tech wizardry. I donned the robe and strolled back onto the grounds, heading in general for the Punishment Hut. The trick is to look like you know where you're going and what you are doing. I didn't want to look hesitant or confused, something that might prompt someone to be "helpful". I was in sight of the building when I was hailed by one of the "Lictors", the church's enforcement arm under the spartan direction of Ms Klochek. This particular woman, in the quasi-military garb of starched blouse, tan shorts and Sam Browne belt was accompanied by a quite lovely woman in one of the skimpy tunics worn by the Handmaidens. "I beg your pardon, Confessor...," she began, "but this Handmaiden, Sister Lynne is due for her weekly confession and penance. If you are not otherwise engaged could you see to her? You may use one of the cabins down the path from the Punishment Hut. I was supposed to take her to see Confessor Robert but he has been called away." Sister Lynne was a pretty and slender bottle blonde with long hair combed to one side and short bangs covering her forehead. She gave me a shy smile and clasped her hands in front of her demurely. She had terrific legs. There was no help for it, I had to play along. I could get inside one of these cabins, put Lynne in the corner or something for her "penance" and slip out to the locked building. "Of course, officer..." I read her name tag, "Cheryl". "That's Lictor Cheryl, Confessor. We are called Lictors here." "Yes, of course," I said, feeling like an idiot. But oddly, she seemed to accept my mistake and take it in stride. Were the Confessors not residents here, but visitors? Even so, you would think that as church elite they knew this stuff. She led the way down the path to a cabin and unlocked it, ushering us in. Inside was a room with a bed like a hotel room. But there were some extra features surely not found at Motel 6. There was a padded stool and a padded sawhorse, both with buckling straps and padded cuffs on the legs. Along the wall was a St Andrews cross and a sturdy straightbacked chair. A pair of manacles hung from the ceiling on a pulley and there was a low padded table with buckling straps attached to it. On hooks were a variety of paddles, floggers, straps and switches. On another table were various dildos and buttplugs along with jars and tubes of creams, lotions and gels. A guy and gal could have a fine old Saturday night in here. "I will leave you now with Sister Lynne," she said with a broad smile. "Give her a real penance, she has been a naughty girl." She left, closing the door behind her. I decided to try and fake it. "Sooo...Sister Lynne, you wish to confess to me?" "Oh yes, Confessor. But first, can I ask you something?" "Anything, ah, my child," I said in my best stentorian voice. "Promise me," she said in a low whisper, twisting her fingers together and licking her lips, "promise me you'll punish me hard. And then you'll...take me, make me do things. I'll do anything." I stepped back, stunned. Here was this attractive woman, in her early 20's I guessed, and she wanted to be punished. Hard, she said. I was trying to stay on task but I had to play a role here so as not to arouse suspicion. "
Ah, very well, Sister Lynne, what is that you've done and, uh, how many weeks has it been since your last confession?" My Catholic schoolboy conditioning was kicking in. Lynne took a big breath. "I-I've been...that is, I've p-pleasured myself. At night. When no one was looking. And I've been having terrible thoughts about...doing it." "I see," I countered gravely. "This is indeed serious. I an glad you have confided in me. We must, however, begin your penance. The cleansing pain of atonement will drive these evil thoughts and deeds away." I'd heard enough of the lingo so this sounded right. I figured to give her the good spanking she obviously wanted and then plan a hasty exit, so I walked over to the chair and moved it into the center of the room. "Stand at my side, Lynne," I said after seating myself. She moved obediently to my right side and stood, waiting. "Get across my knee, girl," I commanded. She hastened to obey, lowering herself face down over my thighs. After several days in the woods watching the proceedings in the commune, the contact of Lynne's soft body over my knee gave me an instant erection. The little tunic rode up the back of her thighs. She had very nice legs. I flipped the little tunic up, uncovering her seat. Her ass was beautiful. The twin cheeks jutted skyward, attractively contained by silky white tap pants. She had a very full bottom for a thin girl and the lower part of her bottom cheeks peeked out the bottom of the tap pants. "Are you ready, Sister Lynne," I said rubbing her hind cheeks in circles with my palm. She squirmed and moaned a breathless, "Yes, sir." I started spanking the chubby cheeks briskly, alternating sides. She moaned and rubbed her thighs together. Her ass was wonderfully soft and resilient. After about 25 or 30 swats, I stopped and moved my hand to the elastic waistband of the pretty tap pants. Her response was to lift her body slightly permitting me to slip the pants to her knees. Her bare bottom was gorgeous--well proportioned round globes that now bore tell-tale reddish handprints. I rubbed the splendid cheeks then resumed the chastisement spanking with a constant rhythm. Her response was to bob her ass up and down, almost as if seeking to meet my descending hand. The sound of the steady smack! smack! smack! of my palm filled the little cabin. After about a hundred good smacks her bottom was red, my palm was stinging and she was breathing heavily. I moved my hand down between her legs. As I suspected, her quim was slick with arousal. She stiffened as my fingers found her moist slit and she almost purred with pleasure as I manipulated her swollen clit. "Oh...oh...sir," she croaked, humping her mons against my hand. I kept it up for a few moments then stopped. "Is that what you felt Sister? Lust?" "Oh, yes, yes. Oh, it was wicked. I-I should be punished harder, sir." She was panting with desire. Obviously this was going to take longer than I thought. "Rise, Sister Lynne and remove your tunic," I said as I helped her up. She slid the flimsy garmet over her head. Underneath she was naked. Her breasts were not large but they were nicely shaped. Her nipples were hard nubs. Slim hips flared out from her narrow waist giving her a lithe figure that had curves in just the right places. I was playing to her needs, so I said, "Go to the wall and select an implement for me to punish you with." She walked to the wall, her delicious bottom swaying. She paused and looked, then selected an oval leather paddle. Returning, she knelt before me and presented the leather paddle on outstretched arms, palms up. "Please punish me, Confessor, so that I may atone and my guilt be relieved." I took the paddle. "Stand Sister and prostrate yourself across the stool." She rose and bent across the padded stool, gripping the legs, her feet about a foot apart. "You will count to twenty, Sister Lynne, and with each stroke you will feel the guilt melt away. They will be hard ones." "Oh...yes sir." She sounded eager. I tapped her seat with the paddle a few times to line it up and then hit her with it hard square across the center of her buttocks. The paddle landed with a loud Whap! Her ass cheeks jiggled. "Oooh, one sir" Whap! "Two, sir". Whap!..... I wielded the paddle smoothly, smacking her delightful bottom with steady strokes, spaced a second or two apart with a brief pause after each three. Her cheeks rippled as I hit, then rebounded. The lower summits of her jouncy ovals were becoming quite red and I imagined it was stinging some. Her counting was becoming a bit higher pitched. It was hard to tell if it was pain or lust. I was betting on lust. I finished the twenty and told her not to move. On the table was lifelike rubber penis. I smeared some lubricant on it and returned to Lynne still bent over. "Is this what you did?" I said, inserting the dildo into her vagina. "Oooo...yes sir," she moaned. I pistoned the phallus in and out while I held her body down over the stool with my left hand. She squirmed with pleasure. I increased the pace of my stroking and was rewarded when she went into humping spasms that could only mean orgasm. When she laid limp over the stool I stopped. She turned her face toward me. "Please, sir, let me pleasure you." Well, when in Rome... I sat in the chair and hoisted my robe up. She knelt between my legs and unzipped my fly. Reaching in, she pulled my painfully swollen member free and gingerly held it between her palms. She bent her head and took me into her mouth. Softly at first, then more vigorously, she swirled her tongue around the the shaft. I watched as she slid her lips back and forth along the plum-shaped head sending bolts of pure pleasure up and down my spine. When I thought I might lose it, I pulled her head back. "Up," I said hoarsely, pulling her to her feet. I knew that so far her punishment had not been that intense and that she craved more. I put her hands in the cuffs hanging from the ceiling and cranked the winch pulling her arms above her head. Next, I selected a black leather-covered switch hanging on the wall. She turned around to look over her shoulder as I first tested one then another switch. They each made a whining noise as I swished them through the air experimentally. I settled on a thin whippy one. She winced as I whipped it down in a sharp slashing motion testing its flex. It would do. "True atonement, Sister Lynne, calls for a degree of severity that you are not comfortable with. Do you understand this?" She nodded. She knew that up to now her "punishment" had been a nice fanny warming--an erotic interlude. But I had to act like I thought these Confessors would or she would mention it to someone else. I wasn't ready to have my cover blown just yet. "You will receive 9 strokes, Sister Lynne, and you will count each one. Are you ready?" "Y-yes, sir," she answered. "Very well. Lean over and present your buttocks, girl." She complied, hollowing out the small of her back so that her bottom jutted back, the red flushed hemispheres spreading out rounding themselves as if eagerly awaiting the whip. I decided these had to be firm. Swick! I brought the switch down square across the crowns of her pouting seat. She flinched and her knees bent a little. "Oh...one," she hissed. Swick! Another red line painted across her succulent rump. "Owww....two," was her response. At intervals of 10 -15 seconds I whipped her bottom with brisk strokes of the switch, trying to land each one evenly across the presented cheeks. She cried out. She sagged in her bonds. She sifted her weight from foot to foot vainly trying to alleviate the sting of the switch across her fanny. After 9 strokes had been administered her ass was striated with thin red weals. Judging by her cries, it had been an effective punishment. It was now time for comforting. Retaining the robe, I slipped off my pants. My cock was pointing straight out forming a tent in the robe. "Do you wish to be comforted, Sister?" I asked. I stood behind her, my body pressed against her hot ass, my hands reaching around tweaking the erect nipples. "Please," she croaked. There were condoms on the table. I slipped one on to my cock and moved behind her. I raised my robe and placed my hands on her hips. Then I bent my knees slightly and guided my hard shaft to the entrance of her vagina. When she felt the head of my knob seeking entry she shifted her body to accommodate me and I slid in. She was wonderfully tight, yet fully lubricated. I started thrusting my pelvis against the soft cheeks of her bottom. She hollowed her back even more and spread her legs. I thrust in deeper. She moaned. I tried to go slow but the friction of my cock in the tight tunnel of her quim was going to make me cum, so I picked up the pace. Having orgasmed once already she was sensitized to the sensation of being fucked and from the motion of her body and the sounds she made I knew she was close. We came together bucking and writhing furiously. I took her out of the cuffs and made her stand in the corner blindfolded. I told her not to move, that I would return in an hour. I figured that gave me enough time. After readjusting my clothes I was out the door, headed for the mysterious building next to the Punishment Hut.
Atonement Ch 11 I slipped out of the cabin leaving the delectable Lynne standing obediently in the corner rubbing a bright red fanny. The locked building wasn't far away and I managed to get there and get inside undetected. I flicked on a flashlight I had carried in my pants and swept it around the room. Henry's machine--as near as I could recall, nearly an exact copy, stood in the center of the room. And unlike the manual machines in the Punishment Hut, this one had all the features of the one at Henry's house. I realized that it may have been relatively easy to reverse-engineer the more mundane mechanical aspects of the machine. Hence the fully operational machines in the next building. But the electronics and software controls, that was different. It looked like they had tried, but couldn't make it work. I noted that it looked like the machine was being taken apart--or put back together. Pieces were in packing boxes that bore the blurry address label I had seen on the video. I noted the address, a street address in Great Falls, Va. Then it hit me. I began to have an idea as to why it was being shipped there. Time to go. I had what I needed. I exited by the door and locked it behind me. Heading down the path where I came in, I hoped to avoid any further encounters with Lictors, Confessors, Handmaidens and any other denizens of this wacky cult. No such luck. I saw one of my robed brethren coming my way. "Harry...Harry," he whispered urgently. "Is that you?" His hood covered his head, as did mine. I had to brazen it out, but noted that he didn't look or sound like he belonged here either. "Ah, no, I'm not Harry," I said. "Then who..." "Leonard Shatner," I said, extending my hand. "Pleased to meet you. I was just on my way..." "To the initiation? I'm going that way, too--- c'mon. You don't want to miss this," he chortled. "My name's Bob, by the way." I fell in with "Bob" heading toward the "initiation", whatever that was, and he started to talk. "Who were you with?" Before I could answer he forged ahead. "They gave me this chick named Helen. Let me tell you, she was one hot number---better even than Celeste who they gave me last month. Well, at ten grand a pop for a weekend they better be good. I think they have them conditioned or something. You wear one of these robes and do the spiel they tell you to and these horney babes will do anything." Abruptly switching subjects he blurted, "Hey, have you played Mountain Links down in Cherry Grove yet? Me and some of the 'brother Confessors' are going to try it Sunday. Gotta relax, y'know. Hey" he said, nudging my ribs, "playing father confessor to all these fucked up chicks is hard work." I allowed as how it was hard work, but I told him no, I hadn't made it down to the golf course yet. I wondered--was that included in the price as part of a weekend package deal? A couple of Handmaidens, probably a steak dinner, greens fees for 18 holes. Such a deal. At ten large they probably threw in a bucket of balls on the range and a Church of Atonement T-shirt for free. I had felt in my gut that this whole setup had stunk and now I knew. The Handmaidens were hand picked, probably naive but true believers, they really thought the path to redemption was in obedience to the commands of any robed "Confessor". Sell weekends at this commune to corporate fat cats and you have a nice little money maker. Let the rank and file think they're living in a religious utopia and make money off the deal. Now their interest in Henry's machines made more sense. Henry had said that Jessica was almost addicted to it. Addicted. That was the word he had used. It would be useful to this church to create a cadre of addicts like that. I could see we were headed for the ampitheatre. It must have been a commune-wide event. All kinds of people in all kinds of garb were filling the seats in the hollowed out hillside venue. On the stage in front were robed clerics wearing colored robes. There was also a group of uniformed Lictors. At the center of the stage was an upright whipping post. In front of the post were 3 heavy straight-backed chairs. I ditched "Bob" in the crowd and stood off to the side in the shadows to watch. A purple robed figure approached the lectern and proceeded to read from what I presumed was the Bible. A hush fell over the crowd. The passages were a mix of apocalypse and retribution, the kind of stuff the nuns used to use to scare the bejesus out of us. It all sounded so familiar, "Suffer in this life and be redeemed in the next." Seems like I heard that one a lot just before Sister Mary Josephine whopped me with the yardstick. Next, Lictors bearing torches brought in 3 initiates, two women and one man, all in their early or mid twenties and wearing long white robes. The initiates were stood in front of the lectern while the leader went through a ritual question and answer routine with them. When he was satisfied that they were ready to join the ranks of the true followers, he announced that their initiation would take them through the stages of their lives and that they would endure ritual atonement at each stage. Three Elders in colored robes seated themselves in the chairs. Two were men, one was a woman. The leader explained that first atonement must be experienced as a child would experience it and commanded them to remove their robes and prostrate themselves across the laps of the seated Elders. They were going to get a ritual public spanking, it looked like. Underneath the gowns they were completely naked. The three clambered over the knees of the Elders offering up their nude bottoms for correction. It came swiftly. The Elders were each armed with a short oval leather paddle like a shoe sole. The leader gave a signal to begin. They started to vigorously spank the buttocks of the initiates and the sound system picked up the staccato cracking of the paddles hitting the bare fannies of the trio. It went on for several minutes and the initiates looked like they felt it. I saw bodies stiffen and legs flutter in painful reaction to the repeated smacks from the little paddles. After what must have been 3 or 4 minutes, the leader signalled a stop and the initiates slumped over the laps of their tormentors, grateful that it was over. But it was far from over. The leader announced that adolescence was the next phase, and the three were told to bend over the backs of the chairs and clutch the seats. Their rear ends faced the audience. The same Elders were handed what looked like school paddles by the Lictors and the chief Elder announced that each initiate would receive ten swats, "Such as you should have experienced as a teenager". The swats were delivered slowly and deliberately. This time there was a definite audible reaction and several anguished yelps accompanied the paddling. Once again a cacophony cracks and pops, the characteristic dry sound of wood striking flesh, attested to the pain of the ordeal as the three were paddled like high school sophomores caught smoking in the bathroom. When the paddling was over, the chairs were taken away. Now everyone's attention was directed to the whipping post. And then none other than Anna Klochek bearing an evil looking multithonged whip walked onto the stage. She was dressed in tight black leather. The whip was a cat-o-nine tails with thongs that were at least two and a half feet long. The initiates could not keep their eyes off of the fearsome implement and the leather clad Ms Klochek seemed to regard them like cowering prey. This was obviously designed as an endurance-to-pain ritual. The buttocks of the three must be stinging like crazy and now they had the prospect of a whipping from this fearsome female Head Lictor in black leather. The leader announced that each of the initiates would receive 13 lashes. He turned to the three and asked if they were ready. They all answered that they were, but they did not sound as resolute as they had at the beginning. The first initiate was a well built girl in her mid 20's with shoulder length brown hair with a well defined waist and a prominent backside. Her hands were tied above her head and her feet were restrained with cuffs at the foot of the post. The black-clad Anna Klochek took a stance behind her and swept the thongs back above her shoulder. There was a hush as the whip swooshed through the air and fell with a loud thwack! The girl's bottom cheeks rippled and she cried out. The leader who had a staff in his hand thumped it on the stage and everyone chanted, "One." There was a minute's hesitation then, Swisshhh....thwack! "Ahhhh...", shrieked the girl at the post. Then thump! "Two", the crowd chanting again. The whipping fell into a rhythm, the cruel thongs exploding across the reddened buttocks of the penitent...the cry of anguish...the thump of the staff, and the mesmerized crowd chanting in unison. The cries grew more shrill as lash after lash was visited on the girl's welted buttocks. She writhed against the post, shamelessly wriggling her welted buttocks in tune to the whip, humping the post like it was a lover. It was a painful whipping, obviously designed to make the recipient feel like she had endured a serious right of passage. I scanned the crowd and noticed several robed figures, Confessors, sitting with scantily clad Handmaidens in abbreviated tunics. I was further surprised to see that a few were women, escorted by male---what? Handmen? They too wore short tunics and looked like Roman slaves from a gladiator movie. A few of the Hand...whatevers slipped to their knees and their heads disappeared beneath the robes of their Confessor escorts. I'd seen enough. It was time to get out while everyone else was enthralled with this ritual lashing spectacle. My mic had been back on since I had left the private cabin. I hoped it had picked this all up. I made it back to the path without incident and ditched the robe in a trash can. With some stumbling and bumbling in the dark, I made my way back. Wendy was waiting for me back at the camp. Will and Jim had left to return Elaine to her father. With the Lynne incident and my encounter with "Bob", not to mention the disappearance of "Cathy Riggs" and Elaine from the commune, I felt it was time to go. As soon as the initiation ceremony was finished, the cult leaders would tumble to the fact that something was going on. They might even start searching the woods. So we packed up what was left and got out. It was a hard trip down the mountain in the dark loaded with gear, but we got to the van and took off. I suggested we go North toward Winchester. I wanted to get out of Pendleton County as soon as possible. There was I was sure, an unholy alliance between the church and the sheriff's office there. Exhaustion set in near the Virginia border. I figured we were far enough away that they wouldn't find us, so Wendy and I crashed at a motel. When we awoke it was nearly dark again. We'd slept all day. We were both starved, so we went out to eat. We found a respectable looking diner and ordered some food. Then Wendy, who'd been quiet, finally piped up. "You know, I've never seen anything like what we just saw the last few days. I'm ashamed to admit it, but watching it was a turn on for me." I told her she wasn't alone, and that I'd known a few women who found spankings and related activity quite arousing. "And just how well did you know these women?" she said, arching her brows. I had previously told her about Jane, so I had to admit that with some of them it had "gotten Biblical". "So you're quite experienced in this area," she mused, toying with her food. "I've been around a little," I admitted. "Well I must say that it sounded like more than 'a little' with what's-her-name yesterday when you played father confessor." Uh-oh, I had left the mic on. She must have heard the whole thing. "I uh, had to play along, you know. That's the first rule--look and act like you belong." I knew how this spy business worked. "Mmmm. Of course. That's it. You had to play along," she said smugly. Then she switched gears. Eyeing me curiously she said, "Let's go back to our room. I want to see something." I shrugged, "Ok, let's go," wondering what she had in mind. But I had a pretty good idea. We had been in close quarters the last few days and were both aware that some chemistry had developed between us. The light banter had turned to flirting and it was starting to look like the flirting was turning to...yeah. When we got back to the room, she closed the door and turned on the TV. Then she faced me. "So what does it feel like?" she asked in a husky voice. She was rubbing her hands up and down her pants legs. Watching all the flagellatory activity on the monitors would have made Saint Therese's panties moist. Even if you're not into it, there is something atavistically sexual about a bare bottom whipping. "What does what feel like?" I said. "You know," she whispered with a coy smile. "A spanking. Like you gave to that girl Lynne?" Now it was my turn to grin. "Do you want to find out?" "Maybe. I don't know. It looked sexy. Nobody ever spanked me when I was a kid." "Well," I said, sitting on the bed, "only one way to find out. Come over here." She was breathing heavily, excited. "Not too hard, ok? I just want to see what it's like." I crooked my finger and patted my thighs. She gingerly laid over my lap, her jeans-clad bottom jutting up. I patted her bottom. "Before we get started, don't you have anything to atone for?" I said in my mock stentorian voice. She giggled, "I did show Billy Smithson my panties for a quarter in third grade." "Shocking!" I said, and gave her delightful rear a resounding smack! "Imagine--raising your dress and showing off your panties to a boy. This correction is long overdue." Smack! Another solid swat. "Oooh," she said. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! I gave her four swats quickly on alternating cheeks. "Hmmm...that actually feels nice." I said nothing but proceeded to smack her bottom with measured, deliberate smacks, not too fast, stopping frequently to rub it in. She practically purred at this treatment at first, then the sting started to build up. "Ohh...ow...mmm...ahh," she uttered, moving her hips around on my lap. I stopped after about fourty cracks. My hand was getting the worst of it. Time to up the ante. "Ok, stand up," I commanded. "Are we done?" She sounded disappointed. "Not by a long shot. Your pants are coming down. I'm wearing my hand out on the seat of these jeans." "Take down my pants?" she asked breathlessly. "Down your knees, Wendy. You want to know what a spanking is like--this is the way to find out." "But you'll see my bare hiney," she protested. "Yeah. Just like Billy Smithson," I shot back. I could see that she was playing, excited by the prospect. She thought for a moment, then slowly peeled down her jeans. Then she took them off completely and tossed them over on the bed. She looked positively delicious standing there in a tank top that ended above her navel and sheer french cut panties along with an especially youthful touch, white knee socks. "Back over again, Wendy," I said with a grin. She laid over my left thigh, her upper body on the bed. I put my right leg over the backs of her calves and pushed down on the small of her back making her bottom arch up over my left thigh. Her curvy fanny was perfectly positioned for a good spanking. The cheeks were fully exposed as her panties had pulled up into the deep cleft separating the twin moons leaving her all but bare. "Ok, Wendy, ready? Here we go--now this is a spanking." I rubbed my palm in wide circles on her bottom feeling the quivery flesh. Then smack! Smack! Crack! I brought my hand down in a series medium hard smacks right on the cheeky crowns of her bottom globes. Her fanny rippled delightfully as I spanked her with crisp cracks of my palm that had her squirming a bit and making little "ooh" and "ahhh" sounds. This went on for 100 smacks or so. Then I stopped and rubbed her ass sensuously, kneading the pinkened mounds. She was breathing heavily and shivered as my fingers slid gently along the gusset of her panties between her legs. "Oh, yessss," she hissed. I slid a finger through the elastic of a leg band into the moist warmth of her pussy. "Oh, Rollin, yes...mmmm," she moaned. "Lift up," I said. She lifted up and I yanked her panties down to her knees. "Are you prepared for atonement, my child?" I asked mockingly. "Oh, yes Father Rollin, punish me as I deserve." "Ok," I said plainly. Then I gave her a spanking she'd remember. I clamped my leg hard over hers and proceeded to baste her little backside good and proper. She bucked and squealed but did not try to escape as the smacks rained down turning her bottom a fiery red. I tanned her backside for three or four minutes without respite. "Oh, ow, ow,ow...this hurts...oh, God, it stings. Wow, ahhh...ahh." She carried on as I smacked her jiggling ass relentlessly. I figured she'd asked for the authentic experience, so I was going to give it to her. She bucked up and down and wriggled her fanny. She'd had enough. I slowed the pace down, this time interspersing the smacks with a lot of rubbing. Her moans changed to whimpers of arousal. "Nhhh...oh...yessss." She writhed in pleasure as I manipulated her. When I felt her response to be that of approaching climax I started smacking her bottom again. Crisp slow open-handed cracks. I punctuated these with a mock lecture. "Will you act like a lady now?" Smack! "Will you show your panties to boys?" Smack! Crack! "Oh...oh...nhhh," she responded. When I sensed she'd reached her limit of tolerance, I stopped and lifted her to her feet. As she stood her in front of me, I continued to rub her pussy while her hands found her flaming ass cheeks and began to rub. I sat back to enjoy the sight of little miss Wendy trying to ease the sting in her delectable derriere. She stopped rubbing and gave me a look that was nothing but lust. Then, she jumped on me, knocking me back on the bed. Grabbing the back of my neck she pulled my mouth to hers and kissed me passionately. Before I could even react she was at me like a wild woman. She yanked my clothes off and when had me naked and on my back, she straddled me, impaling herself on my upright and very stiff cock. Then she rode me, blissfully moaning as she pinched her own nipples through the fabric of her tank top. Not satisfied she tore it off, revealing very nicely shaped breasts. She was bucking up and down and arching forward, trying to scrape her clitoris against my shaft. The furious fucking couldn't last. She stiffened in climax and came, jerking around like a woman possessed. The next time we did it a lot slower. Me on top, she kneeling with me taking her from behind, like spoons--we tried a bunch of 'em. It was two hours before we were back on the road. As Wendy slept I had a chance to think of my next move.
Atonement Ch 12 I had an idea of what I needed to do. The first thing I did was to check in with Will at JLO. Elaine was back home and the family had hired a deprogrammer, but they also wanted the Church made accountable. He was happy to hear what we had recorded, especially my conversation with "Bob" which revealed that the whole setup was little more than high priced prostitution. I told him I needed somebody to watch Henry's house, and what to look for. I then gave him the Great Falls address and suggested that he stake it out using high powered telephoto lenses. This done, it was time to call Henry. Corpun had suggested that Henry and Jessica meet with them at The Greenbriar, a ritzy resort in West Virginia. They had promised to help find Libby and had intimated that they could reunite them there. The story was that they had suspected that Libby was in jail somewhere and that through their connections they could secure her release. In the meantime, they wanted to talk to Henry about sharing rights to his machine. Anyway, that was the story as Henry related it to me. "Bullshit," I said, when I got Henry on the line telling me this. "I know where Libby is, and so do they. She fell in with this Church of Atonement cult." "Sonofabitch!" He said. "I'm calling the police right now." I told Henry to calm down, that she was ok. "You'll get Libby back and screw both these Church bastards and Corpun, but we have to do it right. I'm going to give them some more rope and I think they'll hang themselves. Here is what I want you to do..." Henry listened to my plan and reluctantly agreed. It was all he could do not to run off and charge in like the cavalry, but I convinced him that Libby was in no danger. First I met with Will and outlined the plan. He agreed it should work, and set about to edit down several days worth of tape. Next, I called Jane. "Have you got that stuff I told you to look for?" "I sure did boss. And I found the names of the Board of Directors of the Church of Atonement/Revelation. See if any of these sound familiar: William St Cyr, Dr Gunter Klow, Jack Warren, A. de Granamour..." "Wait a minute--what do you mean 'A'...what's his name?" I asked. "That's all it says here, just 'A'." That's odd, I thought. "Ok, go on." "Uh, let's see...Kenneth Harding, Dr. Gerda Mundinger, Will Henry. That's it." The names didn't mean anything to me, but I was sure they'd be useful. "How about Corpun?" "They've registered with the SEC, you were right. They're going public and the Church is a big underwriter." "Can you fax me everything you've got on their board and the IPO? I especially need pictures. Home addresses, too." "Will do, boss. Uh, when are you coming back?" "Soon, I hope. A few more days." "'Cause, uh, I'm a little behind on that filing and..." "Well, it better be done when I get back, or you and I will be having a little talk," I said sternly. "Uh, yeah, ok boss. I'll get right on it." She sounded excited about it. I had to give the poor girl something to look forward to. The faxes arrived a few minutes later. I scanned the documents, looking at the photos. There it was. Paydirt. "Hello, Confessor Stephen," I said to myself, looking at one Oliver Brussard, VP Engineering of Corpun. And I'd have bet the ranch that the guy in the brief video shot with Libby, Noah Chrossman, and Anna Klochek was the president of the company, Al Laroche. Wearing a green robe as I recall. The SEC documents were also illuminating. They said Corpun held key patents in new "correctional devices" that would revolutionize corrections for juvenile and non-violent offenders. Translation--they planned to sell Henry's spanking machines to every county, city, village and township in America. As a major equity holder the Church would get rich, and it would use the special modified version to "train" new Handmaidens. Sweet. I made one last call and it was to Allison down in Charlottesville. I was sure she wanted to know that her sorority sisters were ok. She wasn't in, but I left the message that she could reach me at the Mayflower. ****************************************************************** The house in Great Falls was like a mini estate, set back on a long driveway, surrounded by forest. For a man of the cloth, the home of the right Rev Noah Chrossman amounted to pretty fancy digs. It had been relatively easy to establish that the Great Falls house belonged to Chrossman. Now all we had to do was wait. I felt sure that Corpun would make it's move soon. That being done, I checked into The Mayflower and collapsed. When I awoke my message light was blinking. Were things happening already? I went the voice mail delivery system. A woman had left a message. "Mr Hand, this is Madeline Smythe, I'm Allison Carter's faculty advisor. I'd like to meet with you if I could. I'm in DC today with a conference. If you can, please meet me downstairs in the lobby at 11:30. I'll be wearing a beige suit. Thank you." That was it. Sort of an English accent, hard to tell how old she was. Very matter-of-fact. Christ! There really was a Madeline Smythe. And she wanted to see me. Had Allison told her what had happened? That I had bared her behind and given her an over-the-knee spanking like she was twelve? This was not good. She could be mid 30-ish, maybe 40--probably a battle ax spinster ready to go on a tear about my brutalizing sweet little Allison. I decided I'd better meet her in the lobby. Get this over with. When I got off the elevator, the only person I saw standing around looking for someone was a very attractive brunette in a smartly tailored business suit that came up several inches above her knees. The tight skirt was showing off her shapely ass and gorgeous legs in killer high heels. She was carrying a briefcase and a long tube like the kind that hold engineering blueprints. She looked at me quizzically. "Mr Hand?" she asked. I nodded. "I'm Madeline Smythe." There was that faint English accent. She was young for a college professor. She couldn't have been much older than 28--30 max. And she was beautiful. "I'm Rollin Hand," I said flashing my most charming--I hoped--smile. "How do you do?" "Fine," she said, smiling back. "Allison told me a lot about you." Uh-oh, I thought. She's going to be loaded for bear. "All no good, I'm sure," I said, attempting a nonchalant chuckle. "So how can I help you Ms Smythe?" "Well," she began, "I'm here today for a conference--lectures on medieval history at the Smithsonian and I thought we could have a little chat about Allison." Here it comes. "Sure, how can I help?" We took two chairs and a table next to a window. "For awhile this semester Allison's grades were dropping quite steadily. I noticed a distinct drop in the quality of her work. It was sloppy, poorly thought out, late--when she handed things in at all. Then last week she had a paper due. When she handed it in I read it as one of the first I wanted to review. I was astonished. It was absolutely brilliant. First rate. It didn't seem like the work of the same girl. So I asked her about it and she said she'd been to see her friend's uncle. She told me that this 'Uncle Rollin' had sort of straightened her out and put her back on the right path." Madeline Smythe leaned forward and lowered her voice, looking me straight in the eye. "She told me what you did. So I thought I had to meet this 'Uncle Rollin' and find out more...about your, uh, methods. She did also say you were firm but very understanding and gracious." Yeah, but that wasn't the half of it. I hoped Allison had left a few things out. Hmmm...she was now blushing as she said this. But she was also smiling and seemed sincere. I was charmed. Was she flirting? So as we sat in the lobby, I told her about Allison's visit. Her eyes grew wider and wider as I described our "meeting". "I must say, Mr Hand, you certainly made an impression on her," she said. I noticed a shiver. Then I asked her about the note. "Yes, I did write such a note," she admitted. "I thought she needed a stern talking to from her parents or guardian. A jolly good lecture," she added for emphasis. "Well, she got more than that," I said dryly. Madeline Smythe nodded with a rueful grin. "I guess she did at that. I almost didn't believe it when she told me. A spanking--for a girl her age." Then she gathered herself. "Certainly such treatment was not uncommon in ages past. My own doctoral dissertation is in fact on the use of corporal punishment in the late middle ages and its acceptance in society both in the home and as an instrument of justice." Now it was my turn to be surprised. "What a topic. You are not a full professor?" "No," she said, "I have my masters but I'm in this country on an exchange. I'm from England. At the university I'm a grad student advisor and a teaching assistant. My dissertation will be due this Spring. This is part of what I wanted to talk to you about." She paused, then, "Allison told me about St John's."
That was interesting, but where was this going? "Ah, yes--a very traumatic experience." "Yes, and I understand that another girl was birched by the authorities." All very true, I said. I gave her my account, and added the part about the quaint custom we had witnessed--the condemned being made to cut her own birch switches the night before. She gulped. "Do you mind, Mr Hand, if we continue this discussion in a more private place?" I told her we could go to my room if that was all right. She said that was fine and we got up and headed for the elevator. I was really puzzled now, but Ms Smythe seemed to have made up her mind about something. When we got to the room she placed her things on the table and turned to me. "Mr Hand," she began. She was tense, formal now. "Please, it's Rollin. My father was Mr Hand." I smiled. She relaxed a bit. Brushed her hand through her long hair moving it to the side. "Ok, Rollin. As I said, my dissertation is on corporal punishment in the middle ages, all the way to the 17th century actually, and my research is not complete. I'm trying to convey what it must have been like for women in those times to be punished in ways that may seem to us as shameful as well as very painful. My research has revealed that villages and towns commonly prescribed the birch for young women for a variety of offenses, and that the punishment was administered to their, er, naked posteriors. It was called the 'lower discipline. 'Men got the so-called 'upper discipline', a flogging across the back. Most villages had a town square and a birching block. The miscreant would have to kneel over the block, have her drawers lowered or her skirts removed, and she would be given the prescribed number of strokes by some village official or constable, usually two or three dozen. Then she would be released." "I see. That's all very interesting but what does it have to do with me?" "As I said, I've researched this quite a bit, but I need to be able to write with authenticity. To tell the story of these women. You see, the UK is not like America. Your states have reinstituted corporal punishment for many offenses. We have not, but Parliament is considering it. My dissertation will bring home the shame and the pain, the terror these poor women felt when it was their turn over the block. To be led out in a thin muslin top and drawers to the jeers of the crowd, to be manhandled and tied face down, to have your drawers removed so that all could watch your bare bottom dance while it is whipped without mercy by a town constable..." She was really getting worked up here. It was like she had the floor in the House of Commons. "...so you see I want to describe this with accuracy. But, I feel that in order to properly describe what these women felt, I, well...I need to feel what it was like myself." There was an awkward silence. She smoothed her hands against her skirt waiting for my reaction. "You mean," I said incredulously, "you want..." "Allison said you could be trusted--that you were firm and kind and completely understanding about these things. There was no one I knew, no boyfriend. And even if I had one he might think me daft. Here," she said opening the tube, "this is a real birch. I made it myself." She drew out a sheaf of thin switches, about a dozen or so, tied with a ribbon. The switches were peeled of all leaves and buds and the whole rod was about two feet long. I gripped it by the handle. It was light and flexible. The tips of the switches fanned out at the end to a width of about 4". "Madeline, do you know what you are asking? A whipping with a birch rod like this would sting like blazes. It might leave weals and stripes. You won't sit comfortably for a week." Madeline attempted a nervous laugh. "That's what my father used to say before a good smackbottom." She rubbed her buns in mock distress for effect. A good smackbottom, huh? The thought of Madeline across a masculine knee enduring a good smackbottom was a juicy thought. "If you are sure..." I was hesitant, but this bizarre request was throwing my arousal state into high gear. "I am," she said, resolve in her voice. "I'm floored. I don't know what to say. But I tell you what. I'll do it. You say this is an essential part of your research. I believe you...and because of Allison you trusted me. So, how shall we begin?" "I-I wish to change first. May I use the loo?" "Be my guest." She went into the bathroom. Good God, the lady wants a birching. I couldn't believe it. Was there something in the water in Charlottesville? I decided to get comfortable so I took off my shirt, leaving me barechested in dark woolen slacks. I didn't look like a middle-ages town beadle, but hopefully the effect was close enough. Madeline emerged in a cotton top-- a vest or camisole I think they call it, and long white cotton drawers like pantalettes. "I wanted to look the part. What do you think?" "You look beautiful," I said. And she did. Her breasts strained the thin top. Her nipples were hard. The drawers were snug and her luscious derriere was plainly visible through the thin cotton. "I'm supposed to be a petty criminal, Rollin, so you must now take charge." She stood, hands at her side, awaiting my command. I pulled the pillows off the bed and stacked two of them at the foot. I held the rod across my body in both hands. Had to get into my role here. "Madeline Smythe, you have been convicted of petty theft and for this you will receive one doz--" Madeline quietly interrupted. "Two Dozen" "Two dozen strokes of the rod. To be delivered as lower discipline across your bared, er, bottom. Assume the position across the pillows." Madeline laid face down over the pillows causing her lovely nates to jut up nicely. She turned her head to the side and gripped the bedspread with her hands. Her toes dug into the carpet. Her ass, round and vulnerable was presented for punishment. One more thing. I laid the rod down and slid my fingers into the waistband of the drawers. She lifted a little and I eased the flimsy garment down baring her lovely moons. The pale globes were beautifully framed by the lowered pantalettes. I took a stance to her left and tapped her bottom with the switches. "This will hurt. Are you ready?" "Yes. I am. Go ahead, birch me like I was a village slut," she growled huskily. I swooshed the rod down and it whined through the air, striking with a dry hwickkk! sound. Her bottom globes flattened then sprang back with a wobble. She hissed, a sharp intake of breath through her teeth. Swissshhh...hwick! Her bottom danced again, another brief wobble. This time she emitted a little grunt like "hunnhh." Faint red lines appeared. Swish...thwick! "Oooohhh!" Swish...hwick! "Nhhh...ahhh!" I developed a cadence, the strokes coming about ten seconds apart. She mewled in pain. She bucked. She scissored her legs. More thin red lines appeared across her fanny. All the while I whipped the wobbling rounded globes with firm deliberate strokes. Swish...thwick! "Ow---hoooo." Swick! "Ow! Nunnnhhh." Right across the crowns of her lush sit spot. The birch whined again...and struck. "Oh! God that hurts. Whew!" She tensed and pressed her body into the pillows as each lash fell. I finished one dozen. Hwisshh...thwick! Number thirteen. "Owww! Ooh, ooh." She writhed, humping her hips up and down as if that could relieve her agony. It just made her buttocks jiggle lasciviously. More vocal now. Good thing I had the TV on. She was writhing now. I guess she did look like a 16th century peasant girl, bent over the block, buttocks bare and writhing from the judicious application of the birch on the lovely cheeks. The red lines had now diffused, making her ass a hot pink color. It would get hotter. I wondered if she could stay down and take it. I wanted to go easy on her, but I knew she did not want that. She wanted a real birching, so I laid the strokes on with deliberate firmness. The dry thwick! sound of the switches impacting jiggling female fanny was not especially loud, but it was sharp and distinct. By nineteen her behind was flaming red and she was gasping and clenching the bedclothes tight with every lick. It must be taking all her willpower, I thought, to keep from bolting upright and massaging her tortured bottom. I gave her the last five quickly, increasing the force of my stroke with each one. She practically came up off the bed. Thwick! Huick! Swish...whick! Whuck! Swick! "Oh...ow!...ah!...yeowwww!...yowwwww!" She screeched, lifting her upper body on her hands, throwing her head back, and pressing her pelvis down into the pillows.. "It's over. That's twenty-four, Madeline." "Oh, thank God," she moaned. She lay still for a moment then pushed herself up. She stood, eyes closed, gritting her teeth and rubbing her tender buttocks. "My God, that really stung! Oh!" "Do you have any cold cream? Perhaps that would help," I said anxiously. I detected some tears. "In my handbag," she said with a sniffle. I grabbed the jar in her bag and sat on the bed. "Here, lie over my knee." She nodded and prostrated herself over my left knee, her upper body on the bed. Her buttocks were hot to the touch and striated with thin lines, weals left by the switches. I put a generous dollop of cold cream on each cheek and gently rubbed it in. "Oh, oh, yes, that's better," she breathed. As I continued she relaxed and it began to look as though the pain were subsiding. "You know, that showed a great deal of fortitude to take that." "Thank you," she said, "and thank you for not backing off. I needed to really know, you know? Even though it hurt like Hades." "Whippings hurt," I said, the voice of experience. I continued to rub the cream in, kneading her buttocks in slow lazy circles. She made little noises, almost like purring. It wasn't deliberate but as my fingers spread the cream into the delicate fold between buttock and thigh, I felt something wet and slippery. Her sex wet and glistening with fluid. She gently humped her mound against my thigh as I rubbed. Then she parted her legs slightly. I let my fingers fall on the lips of her slick pussy. "Yes, please," she said in a small voice. I needed no further invitation. I slid my index finger into her hot canal and began to frig her gently. "Oh...oh...oh, yes," she panted as I touched the bud of her clitoris and gently massaged it. I kept this up, fingering her slit and rubbing her clitoris until her up and down motion signaled that she was approaching climax. She sensed it too and abruptly raised herself off my lap and slid to her knees in front of me. She quickly unzipped my fly and reached in, feeling for my cock. She deftly pulled it out and slid her lips around the head. She was an accomplished fellatrix. She sucked slurped and swirled her tongue around the glans causing jolts of pleasure to shoot up my spine. I allowed her to do this for a few minutes then pulled her head back. I lifted her to her feet and pulled off my trousers completely. When I sat back down on the bed I pulled her to me. She opened her legs and straddled me, my hard penis sliding into her hot sheath like a greased pole. When she had settled her weight into my lap we began to move together, rocking gently at first, then faster. In a short time we were bucking furiously. I held onto her hips she hugged me, mashing her breasts into my chest until after a few minutes we came in a blinding mutual orgasm that left us both limp and breathless. Afterward she said, "You must think me awful, but after that whipping I-I just..." I held up my hand. "No need to explain. It's a normal reaction. I don't know if you should include that in your dissertation, though." She smiled and nodded. Then she looked at the clock. "Oh my God, the lecture! Rollin, I have to go." I said it was ok, I'd see her later, that is, if she wanted to... She said yes, she'd like that very much, but that she had to go or she'd never get a seat. I advised her that she'd probably want to stand in the back anyway.
Atonement Ch 13 The next day, I got a call from Will. Our patience had paid off. They had taken the bait. Time to roll. I met Will at the park in Great Falls. He handed me a video tape. "You sure you want to do this?" I took the tape. "Just make sure you and Henry are at the front door when I give the signal. And make sure Jim has something like a mirror to flash when I wave my hand." "He'll be ready. He says that there has been a lot of coming and going recently," said Will opening up a laptop. He pulled up several image files. "We took these this morning." The pictures were of people exiting cars. Brussard and Laroche were in one car. In another picture Anna Klochek and Libby Mason got out of a car together. A second picture showed them walking. Anna had her arm around Libby's waist possessively and Libby's head leaned against the taller woman's shoulder. I looked at Will. "There's a complication I didn't anticipate, but it perhaps explains her motive." I had guessed that Libby had sold out her dad. Ever since I had seen the video capture of Libby at the commune, I had known Libby had not been kidnapped or mistreated because in that shot she had been wearing the psuedo military uniform of a Lictor. We came up on the back of the property through the dense forest that made the mini mansion so isolated and private. At the edge of a broad lawn I waited. With binoculars I could see the back of the house clearly. There was a patio surrounding a pool with outdoor chairs and a circular table with a big umbrella. The scene and furnishings were fairly typical of a wealthy man's country retreat--except for the whipping frame set up on the patio. Several people exited some French doors. There was Chrossman in a purple robe with red chevrons on it, the most ornate I had seen. There was Laroche and Brussard in green and a younger man in gray. Each man was accompanied by a pretty girl in Handmaiden garb, the brief Greek tunic made of some thin white diaphonous material. The scene reminded me of "Fire Maidens from Outer Space" and dozens of bad biblical epics. Then came Anna and Libby in their Lictor garb--tight stretch pants, black boots, a white blouse. Libby had a young woman by the arm and Anna led a young man along. Both were stark naked and their hands were bound behind them, wrist to elbow. Two male lictors followed carrying what looked like switches. The robed "brethren" seated themselves in deck chairs. Obviously, they were going to watch. Anna spoke to Libby and she seated herself on a sturdy wooden bench while Anna waited, holding each naked supplicant by the arm. Chrossman spoke to the two and they shook their heads, nodding reluctantly in assent. The woman was first. She was a petite blonde with a voluptuous figure. Libby tipped her over her lap until her fanny was poised right over Libby's left knee and her face was inches from the patio. Anna handed Libby what looked like a small oval paddle. She pressed it against the jutting globes of the young woman's seat for a moment, then she began to spank the woman. The spanks were sharp smacks delivered to alternate cheeks of the woman's behind in a steady tattoo. While she spanked, Libby held the woman's hands bound by a thong in the small of her back. After several minutes the penitent started to kick and squirm in obvious reaction to the heat being generated by the little paddle. Anna said something to Libby who nodded and concluded the chastisement with ten final smacks, delivered more forcefully and slowly. Each one elicited a shrill yelp from the woman. When it was over they lifted her up and led her off to the side. Then Anna led the young man to Libby's left side. The result of his having watched his partner's spanking was obvious. His hard cock was practically in Libby's face. Libby spoke to him, sharply it looked like, and took his hard member in her hand. His knees buckled slightly and he nodded sheepishly and answered her. It looked like he was trying to explain or make excuses. She shook her head and, pulling on his stiff member, hauled him face down across her knees. She gripped his hands where they were tied and proceeded to deliver a stinging spanking with the oval paddle. It went on for several minutes and she spanked his bottom rapidly and hard. He jerked and squirmed across her lap as she tanned his fanny quite thoroughly. The cracking sounds drifted across the lawn and we could hear his sputtered yelps of distress toward the end. She let him up. His cock was still hard. The two guards took the woman and untied her then led her over to the frame. It was a leaning frame with rails like an easel that met at an apex. There was a padded horizontal bar at pelvic height that made the woman's buttocks jut back lewdly when they fastened her ankles to the rails and her wrists to the apex. At Anna's direction a male Lictor handed Libby a switch. She swooshed it through the air then took a position behind the fettered blonde. Libby gave the blonde a wristy rapid-fire switching across her writhing buttocks that lasted for several minutes. We could hear the blonde squeal. Then Anna gave a command and she stopped. While the blonde writhed around on the frame, They took the man and secured him to the frame right behind the woman. He was pressed up against her backside, her buttocks mashed against his groin. In amazement we watched as Libby reached between his legs and guided his stiff penis into the woman's vagina. She arched her buttocks a little to make the angle right for insertion. He then straightened and drove himself up to the hilt as the blonde shuddered with apparent pleasure. At a command from Libby the couple began to fuck. The man drove his shaft into the woman in long slow strokes. She humped, pushing her buttocks back against him in response. Libby walked behind him with a switch in hand. If he sped up, she whipped him with the switch, one, two, three strokes. Then he'd slow down again. The torture was exquisite. If he got close to climax, he got his butt switched, but the long slow screw poised on the edge of climax was driving the couple out of their minds. When the blonde picked up the tempo of their humping, the man was powerless to stop her. He'd speed up and take a dozen licks right across the ass before he could slow down. All the time Anna was giving Libby direction. I now understood what was going on. It was a training session for Libby. They were going to make her a Lictor in the Church. Well, I thought, time to go. The writhing couple had finally been allowed to finish and their humping was building to a furious climax as I emerged from the forest. The man and woman both stiffened as they came together, bodies banging, sweating and moaning in the throes of orgasm. I clapped as I strode across the lawn. "Bravo! Bravo! Absolutely terrific!" I exhorted as I approached the seated spectators and participants. Brussard and Laroche looked at me, startled. Chrossman just looked like he'd eaten something disagreeable. "Who in the hell are you?" shouted an angry Chrossman. "This is private property and you're guilty of criminal trespass!" "I know who he is," fumed Anna. "He's a shyster lawyer who keeps sticking his nose into our business." "Nice to see you too again, Ms Klochek," I said with a smile, striding up onto the patio. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Rollin Hand. I'm an attorney. I represent Henry Mason." I turned to Libby. "Your dad's been awfully worried about you, Libby. It's good to see that you've just been out having fun." Libby gasped. "I don't care who you think you are," thundered Chrossman, "I'm going to have my security staff throw you out." Anna Klochek chimed in, "Please, Reverend Noah, let me interrogate him first. We're old friends." To me she said, "Didn't our previous talk make any impression Mister Hand? We must have another chat, it seems." Then she motioned to Frick and Frack, the beefy male Lictors. Laroche started to say something to Chrossman. He looked worried. I held up my hand as the two male Lictors started my way. "We're being watched, gentlemen. So let's all be polite." A light flashed from the trees as I waved. They stopped, unsure. Chrossman motioned for them to back off. "Now, I suggest we move inside. I know you have something that belongs to my client. I want to see it." "Why should we show you anything?" demanded Laroche. "Because," I said, holding up a video tape, "a lot of people would find the activities at the Church's Goshen commune very interesting." The three seated men conferred in low whispers. Laroche spoke up. "This is a civil matter, Mr Hand, involving Henry Mason's invention. We will see you in court." "Well, Mr Laroche, burglary is a criminal matter last time I looked. So is prostitution. It's punishable by flogging in Pendleton County. Did you know that? But of course you do--" I hit my head with the heel of my hand a la Steve Martin. "The jail there is a Corpun facility. Then there's ah," I said, ticking things off on my fingers, "fraud, kidnapping,...." I started towards the door. Chrossman rose to stop me. "You can't go in there." I pushed past him through the double French doors into a large bare room, almost like a ballroom. In the middle of the floor was the machine that I had seen at Henry's. Next to it was the one I had seen at the compound at Goshen. A young man of about 21 was at the console of the copy. Wires snaked from Henry's machine to the copy and code flashed on both monitors in a rapid sequence. A download was in progress. Chrossman folded his arms and glared at me. "Trey Brussard, I presume?" The kid looked up with a shocked expression on his face. I jerked the connecting cable out of its socket. The monitor went black. "Your dad is the mechanical engineer but you're the software guy, right? And you needed the code to make the copy run right." His expression betrayed him. I was right on the money. Trey looked at his dad for help. He held his palm up and shook his head. Laroche addressed me. "This is perfectly legal, Mr Hand. We were given permission to remove that machine by Mr Mason's daughter." "Really. That's convenient." I put my hand in my pocket and pressed the button on a tiny transmitter. "I wonder if Mr Mason would agree with you. By the way, you look ridiculous in that getup." Chrossman spoke up. "We had every reason to believe that Libby Mason was acting on her father's behalf," he huffed. I regarded Chrossman with a fixed stare. "Was that before or after Ms Klochek here seduced her?" I said jerking my head towards a fuming Anna Klochek. Libby just gaped at me. "What did they promise you, that you could be Anna's special assistant? Was today a little training session? And all you did was let them into the house to, ah, borrow the machine while stepmom and dad were being led on some wild goose chase looking for you." "I can assure you Ms Mason has chosen to join this Church and is a full member...," Chrossman started but I cut him off. "But Rev, she missed all the fun stuff, you know, spankings from the housemother with the rest of the novices, a session or two in the Punishment Hut, a couple of Handmaiden gigs with CEO's of big contributors--oh--and let's not forget The Big Initiation. Did she do all that? She was promoted to Lictor awful quickly." Chrossman appeared flustered--how could I know all that? From inside the house a doorbell rang. "Better answer it," I said. But someone must have opened it. The next thing I heard was Henry's booming voice as he and Jim and Will burst through the door. As he made his way into the room, cane thumping on the floor his eyes fell simultaneously on the machines and on Libby. "Libby! Thank God you're all right!" "I'm ok dad," she said sheepishly. "But we were worried sick. We thought you'd been kidnapped." "I'm really ok, dad, and I wasn't kidnapped. I thought it would be OK," she said anxiously, "Father Noah said your machine should be dedicated to the good of mankind, that it was immoral for you to keep it hidden and I..." "Then what...so who?" Henry started, confused. I stopped him. I explained the whole thing. How Libby had been seduced, first by the church, then by Anna Klochek. I could see Henry getting madder and madder, glaring at Anna Klochek, Laroche and Chrossman. I could also see that he was angry at Libby. "I know you're angry, Henry, but they did set out to seduce Libby, and after all, she's only a kid." That seemed to mollify Henry somewhat. "Let's go, Libby," he growled, taking his daughter's arm. "And you," he said to Laroche, "I'll see you in court." As Henry stormed out, I turned to Laroche and company. "Well, guys, let's pack this stuff up. We rented the truck by the hour. Oh, and you'd better let those two down out there." Everyone had forgotten about the couple at the whipping frame. Left alone, they were starting to go at it again. Must have been all the excitement. **************************************** Henry told me to come out later that evening. We had to map out our demands. And he alluded to another matter that required my attendance. I already had made an appointment for the next day to see Martin Creel, Corpun's lawyer. When I arrived, the crew hired by Will was unloading Henry's machine. Henry stood in the hallway, leaning on his cane. He looked tired. "It will be awhile before I get it put back together," he said, carefully watching the crew. "No telling how much they have screwed up the programming." He motioned to me. "We have several things to discuss. In my office." I followed Henry into a spacious study. Inside was a desk piled high with books, drawings and diagrams. He sat behind the desk, motioning for me to sit. "What do think our negotiating posture should be when we meet with Corpun tomorrow?" "That's easy. Their total capitulation on any rights to the invention, damages for various torts--I'd say about 5 million dollars. If you want to grant them a license it's up to you, but I'd go with an exclusive to Nike. We'll agree to no publicity. That's about it." "You think they'll pay that?" "Yes, I do. And by now they will have watched the tape I left on the coffee table. They'll pay." "Well, Rollin, let's hope you are correct. I must say, your efforts in my behalf have gone beyond the call of duty. You found my daughter and got my machine back. And you have exposed that nest of snakes called the Church of Atonement for what they really are. Do you think they'll insist on no publicity---why I'd like to expose those sons of..." "Henry, it's going to be one of those compromises none of us like, but if you want a settlement of this magnitude..." I left it hanging. I didn't like it either, but it was that or an ugly court fight with Henry's daughter dragged into it. "I'll do it. The last thing I want is Libby paraded around in court like some...some..." "I know, Henry. You have fought hard to protect her." "I did, but she's not going to get off scot free. We have a little appointment in the parlor. I want you to be there. You're entitled. You suffered because of her foolishness. Come with me." I followed Henry into the library. Jessica was there, seated in an armchair, waiting. Celeste and Mary Beth were there also. There was an armless chair in the middle of the room with a paddle lying on the seat. In a corner of the room there was a young woman standing with her back to us. It was Libby. She was wearing a dress, the kind a girl might wear to Sunday school, a sort of little girl's frock. Henry took a seat at his desk. He ignored Libby who had begun to fidgit when we came in. Libby, hearing us enter, whined from the corner, "Can I say something, daddy? It is ridiculous to make me stand here wearing this little girl dress--this is embarrassing. I'm not some little kid and--" "Silence!" Thundered Henry. "We will get to you in due course. For now you just stand there and think about all the trouble and grief you have caused everyone." Libby stamped her foot, but closed her mouth. "As I said, I will do this legal settlement so that Libby will not be made into some public spectacle." I nodded. Henry continued. "But that does not finish the matter. Celeste and Mary Beth, I know you were subjected to some very rough treatment personally and it pains me to know that Libby was the cause. So Libby is going to be punished. Here. Now." "Daddy!" wailed Libby, turning around. "Please, not in front of all these people!" "Why not Libby? Mary Beth and Celeste were whipped--whipped with a vicious martinet--all because of you. And what about Mr Hand? He found you and made it possible for me to extract you from a very dangerous situation." Then Henry addressed me. "Rollin, Mary Beth and Celeste, I need your assistance and frankly, justice demands it. I would like for the three of you to do something for me since I fear I'm unable to do it properly myself." We waited for him to finish. "I want you to give Libby a sound spanking. I mean a good one. With that paddle." Henry gestured toward the paddle lying across the seat of the chair. It was a rectangular paddle with a business end about 3"x 10" and made of some synthetic material. Libby really wailed. "Daddeeee! No!!" "Libby my child, you have this coming. These people suffered because of you, and it is they who should dole out your punishment." To Celeste and Mary Beth he said, "You two were whipped--how many lashes was it?" "Thirty," said Mary Beth through gritted teeth. Her arms were folded and her expression was serious. "And it hurt like bloody hell," added Celeste, glaring at Libby. Both girls were justifiably very angry at their sorority sister. "So now it is time to pay the piper for your reckless and foolish behavior, Libby. It was actually your sorority sisters here who suggested this. Apparently the sorority paddle is still in use in your organization, am I right?" Both girls nodded. "Pledges get paddled and members can too, upon a vote of the sisterhood," added Celeste. Henry continued. "So it is fitting, Libby. You will receive 30 licks from each of these people given to you however they want to do it. When I turn this over to them, you will obey their instructions, do you understand?" Libby pleaded, "Please, no, daddy, no. I'll do anything, just not that---please." "Libby, you are my darling daughter and I love you, but you must now accept that you must endure this punishment at the hands of the people you injured. So I don't want to hear another word until we are done here." Libby didn't say anything. She just shuffled her feet, looking at the floor. "Mary Beth, if you will, pick up the paddle--and use it." Mary Beth did not have to be told twice. She walked over to the chair and hefted the paddle. She moved it aside and said, "Come on Libby. Let's go. I want you to bend over right here. Hands on your knees." With a resigned sigh Libby approached the chair. She was a short girl, with closely cropped brown hair and a curvy figure. She was maybe a bit bottom heavy, but with her thin waist the shape was all the more alluring. She stood next to Mary Beth told her to lift her skirt and bend over. With a stifled groan Libby took the hem of her dress and lifted it. All Libby had on underneath were bikini panties that didn't cover much. The bent over posture thrust her bottom cheeks out making an attractive target for the paddle. Mary Beth took a stance to the side and measured her distance laying the paddle flat against Libby's nicely rounded ass. Libby flinched as she felt the cold blade of the paddle touch her nearly nude seat. Mary Beth drew back to deliver a full arm swing and brought the paddle down full force. The loud CRACK! flattened Libby's hind cheeks and she let out a yell. Mary Beth was determined. She placed crack after stinging crack on Libby's ample buttocks causing Libby to plead and wail. "You know, Libby
I pleaded with that woman not to whip me so hard , but she kept on anyway . So now you just grin and bare it, girl " "Oww!...oooh!...Mary Beth!....please...I didn't know!...Ow!..." At the end of the thirty licks, Libby was sobbing. Mary Beth, having finished, offered the paddle to Celeste who took it in a firm grip. Libby had risen and was rubbing her butt. "Please, oh, please, Celeste. I've had enough, c'mon..." But Celeste wasn't having any of it. "Back down Libby and stick it out. You're getting thirty from me good and hard." Celeste paddled her with sharp wristy smacks that came closer together. Her buttocks constantly jiggled under the barrage of smacks and she shuffled her feet. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" she cried under the stinging paddle swats. Celeste was not going easy. When she was done with her thirty she offered the paddle to me. I shook my head. I grabbed the chair that had been moved aside, spun it around and sat down. Libby was standing there, tears in her eyes rubbing her flaming ass. "I'm just going to use my hand, Libby, but I want you over my knee. This was a childish stunt and to me you have acted like a spoiled child. So you are going to get a good spanking from me." Henry nodded with approval. I glanced at Jessica and she flashed me a big smile back. "C'mon Libby, over my lap." I patted my legs. Libby approached me and lowered herself across my knee, bottoms up. I flipped back the little skirt and rested my hand on her bottom. It was hot. "You know, Libby, your friends were whipped nude, but they even let you keep your panties on. Well, I'm not." And I grabbed her panties and jerked them off down to her knees. She shrieked in protest. "You can't! No! Not bare, not bare!" "Yes he can, Libby," bellowed Henry. "Go ahead, Rollin. I want you to tan her little butt until it glows." I need no second invitation. The memory of Anna Klochek's whip came back to me and I proceeded to give Libby a bare butt tanning that I was sure she would remember for quite awhile. I smacked from one cheek of her curvy fanny to the other in a solid barrage of smacks that had Libby squealing and kicking her legs. Her ass was spanked to a flaming red, almost purple by the time I was through, and she was crying and blubbering and pleading for forgiveness. I stopped and looked at Henry again. He was smiling in satisfaction. I looked at Jessica. She was smiling with approval--and something else. It looked like desire to me. All Libby could do was sob "Yes, sir" to Henry's post spanking scolding. I took my leave, but not before Jessica had pulled me aside. "She needed that. She is spoiled and Henry put up with it for far too long." Then she stood back and eyed me curiously. She said, "My you give thorough spankings. I wouldn't want to be over your knee when you're angry." But you know, the way she said it, it sounded more like an invitation to do just that.
Atonement Chapter 14 and Conclusion The next morning Henry and I met with Martin Creel. Al Laroche was there--and looking very chagrined. So was a Church attorney. We laid out our demands. Laroche sputtered and fumed, but he knew the jig was up. Creel insisted on silence as I knew he would. Laroche begged Henry for a license under the patents. "It'll be a cold day in hell, Laroche," was all he said. When we got to the end, they agreed to pay. We also negotiated a settlement for Mary Beth and Celeste--again with no admission of any wrongdoing. Everyone was about to leave, anxiously, I thought. They wanted to get out before we thought of something else. "There's just one more little thing...." I said. "What?" huffed Creel. Their eyes widened as I explained it to them. But they talked about it for awhile and realized that it was in everyone's interest. Nothing personal, it was just good business to avoid some nasty publicity for the Church. ********************************************** I hung around Washington for a day or two, recuperating. Two days after our meeting, I made the trip back to Charlottesville. Jessica received me. She was wearing a ravishing purple dress that clung to every abundant curve. We made small talk while we waited for high noon. Between her lush figure, vibrant red hair and her deep green eyes, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. When the doorbell rang again, I answered it. An ashen-faced Anna Klochek stood in the doorway flanked by a pair of beefy men whom I guessed were Church security, if not Lictors. "Miss Klochek, welcome," I said smiling. "Come on in." She scowled but allowed herself to be led in by her escorts, each of whom gripped one arm. Apparently the Church was more interested in the settlement than it was in the discomfort to its head Lictor's fanny and had sent these boys along to insure her cooperation. "Ok, boys, Henry is waiting for us in his workshop downstairs. I know Anna here knows where it is, but if you'll just follow me..." I led them down to Henry's workshop. Henry had his large prototype machine reconstructed. He was fiddling with some adjustments on a new structure that had been added. On either side was a short post with a rotary head on top that was mounted on a sliding track to the rear of the bench. Each rotary head had a flexible rod stuck into a hole on the head. Each rod was about a foot long and at the end there was a 2 foot long single thong lash mounted to it. The lash was made of some kind of resilient rubbery material. It looked like a rat tail. "Ah, Miss Klocheck," said Henry, looking up as we entered. "We are pleased to have you here to help us test our newest feature." He pulled himself to his feet. "You know, I originally designed these machines for the juvenile market, but I had no idea that there would be an explosion in state laws mandating corporal punishment for everything from drunk driving to writing bad checks--for adults. And so I thought," Henry stuck a finger into the air for effect, "for this market a mere spanking machine is simply not sufficient. Adults should be whipped, not spanked like children, don't you agree? Adults need something that really drives the point home. So," he gestured to the twin rotary hubs with their ominous looking rod and whip attachments, "I developed this. As you can see these twin hubs rotate, pulling these flexible rods with lashes attached around in a circle at tremendous speed. The tip of each lash travels in an arc of 320 degrees before striking the target. There are right and left whips and they are timed to deliver a lash to the target area in alternate sequence. The heads move slightly in the vertical direction after each stroke so that the target area for the tip of the lash varies. The timing can be chosen so that strokes are delivered at variable intervals. My research has shown that a period of about 3-5 seconds between strokes is optimum. The prisoner has time to feel the full effect of a stroke before the next is given. So what do you think? I mean, you're the expert. This will really make a drunk driver think before getting behind the wheel of a car, right?" Anna's mouth was open and she figited nervously, looking from side to side--for a way out, no doubt. "In this version the impact area is the buttocks and the back of the thighs--the spot nature intended is still the best, eh?" Not hearing any comment, Henry went on, "the laser rangefinder is calibrated with the rotary heads which move on these tracks so that the ends of the whips land square across the buttocks of the miscreant. No wrapping around or anything like that--and by having two heads, full coverage of the target area is assured. Well, what do you think Miss Klochek," said Henry, positively beaming, "ready to take her for a spin?" She must have known that pleading was no use, but it didn't stop her. Her eyes held a genuine look of fear as she regarded the grim apparatus. "Look, this...this is unnecessary. You got what you wanted." "Ah, yes, Miss Klochek, but some things cannot be undone, can they? Just ask Mr Hand here." She looked my way, crestfallen. I smiled and shrugged. She kept trying. "I'm sorry. Really. They gave me a job to do." I turned to Henry. "I think that was Goering's defense at Nuremberg." Then back to Anna. "Anna, we go a long way back. I owe you for more than our little session in the woods." Anna started to protest again but Henry cut her off. "Well, we're wasting time," said Henry looking at his watch. "So if you will be so kind as to remove your pants..." "What?" said Anna. "Bare? You want me bare? No-- No. I won't do it." She struggled, realizing that in just a minute or two she would be strapped down and whipped by the machine. Henry gestured to the Church's security men who grabbed a sputtering Anna by her arms and marched her over to the padded support at the center of the machine. Ignoring her frantic protests they secured her face down and fastened buckling straps around her upper back and at the hollows of the knees. Since the padded top sloped slightly downward, the bend of her body forced her buttocks to arch up prominently. She was wearing tight tan pants that revealed the rounded shape of the globes of her bottom to perfection. She was tall and lithe but had a full and very feminine oval-shaped derriere. "Jessica, if you please, dear, pull the lady's pants down." "With pleasure, darling," said Jessica, smiling broadly as she rose and approached the frantic, struggling Anna. Anna protested loudly as Jessica reached underneath the firmly secured Miss Klochek to unfasten her pants. Having done so, she gripped both sides of the tight slacks and with much tugging and pulling peeled them and some silky white panties down over the rather attractive fanny that jutted so shamelessly over the whipping stool. As Anna choked in rage and indignation, Henry pulled up the program and enabled the range finder. After making a few more settings, he said: "Well, now is the moment of truth Miss Klochek. You are about to receive a very adult whipping of your derriere. It will hurt--a lot--but I guess you know all about that. You will receive 100 lashes, maximum intensity." Henry pushed a button and the machine began to hum. Henry finally abandonned his mock jocularity and practically biting his words off said, "And Miss Klochek--never, never, never come near me or my family again." At that last emphatic statement, Henry hit a button on the console and stood. The right hub rotated, gaining momentum. The whip followed the rod which bent under the mass of the whip's tail. As it came around, the rod straightened and the whip followed it in a flat arc making a sickening whining sound. The tip struck Anna Klochek's buttocks square across the crowns of the fatty cheeks with a sharp CRACK! "Arhhhh....ohhh God...nooo" screamed the struggling woman. She barely had time to catch her breath before CRACK!--the lash from the left side smacked across the wriggling fanny and elicited another pitious cry. Then CRACK! the right whip--whoosh...CRACK! the left. Every three or four seconds another whip crack decorated the jiggling mounds with a livid red weal. The speed of the whip was truly frightening. Having seen a few whippings lately I could tell that this one was special. As the whips cracked and smacked in their relentless precision, Anna shrieked and screamed in pain. "Yeoww...ow...ow...I can't stand it! Stop! Stop! PLease!" But Henry and everyone else just looked on at a wicked woman getting her just desserts. The whipping took about 6 minutes. We watched, grimly fascinated as the twin whips placed crack after stinging crack across the writhing buttocks. It must have been the longest six minutes of Anna Klochek's life. By the end she was hysterically pleading and blubbering for it to stop. Her ass was covered with a mass of lurid red and purple weals. The skin however, had not broken. Henry had confided to me that he was worried about this, but had chosen his materials carefully. His object--the infliction of maximum pain with minimal injury. It looked like the experiment was a success. With little fanfare Anna's attendants unstrapped her and pulled her to her feet. She wailed in pain as her pants were drawn up over her welted ass. We signed documents attesting to the satisfaction of the part of the deal and Ms Klochek was escorted away on unsteady legs. "I don't think you'll have to worry about her again," I said to Henry and Jessica after they had left. "Thanks to you, Rollin," boomed Henry heartily. "My machine gave her a right smart ass whuppin', wouldn't you say?" "It looked like it might have smarted a bit," I said with a chuckle. Serves her damn right, I thought, recalling the sting in my own tail as a result of Anna Klochek's tender mercies. "Well, I've got to go," said Henry abruptly. "I have to make a plane at Dulles. I'm headed to Portland to meet with Nike--I'll run any proposal by you, right?" I nodded. This was rather abrupt. "Good," he said. Then with a smile he added, "Jessica would like you to stay for lunch, wouldn't you dear?" "Absolutely," purred Jessica. "I want to thank Rollin personally for his help." "Good. Well, I'll be off then." And he picked up a bag and was out the door. ******************************* We ate in the solarium. The house was quiet. Everyone else was gone, it seemed. We ate in silence for a minute or two. Somewhere I could hear the ticking of a grandfather clock. Jessica broke the silence. "Libby told me more about the commune after she was punished, after you all had left. The poor child--I have been a friend to her you know. But she has been spoiled. Henry was right to put his foot down with her. God knows he does with me." "I imagine you want to avoid his new wrinkle--the whipping attachment, I mean." "Yes indeed," she said with a rueful smile. "I'll bet your Miss Klochek has trouble in the sitting department for awhile. From the way she screamed, I'd say it was pure punishment." "You mean not like your paddywhackings in the machine?" "No. Not like mine. Although Henry does not always allow me the use of the...other controls." "So it's not always fun." "No. I can be a hand full, Rollin." Her smile was flirtatious. "I need--sometimes I need a strong man to keep me in line...tamed. Sometimes what I need is...pure chastisement." She said it seriously. "I doubt seriously that you can be tamed, Jessica." She just fluttered her eyelids. With a sly smile she slid an envelope from beneath a plate and handed it to me. "Henry asked me to give this to you after he had left." I took it and opened it. It read: " Dear Rollin, I appreciate your fine work on my behalf and especially your efforts in locating Libby and bringing this matter to a successful conclusion. Before you take your leave, however, I wonder if you could perform for me one final task. Jessica has been extremely petulant of late. She has snapped at the staff, has drank too much, and was rude to some faculty wives at a recent University funtion. As is our custom I informed her that she must be dealt with for these infractions, but then Libby disappeared and this whole mess started. So before you leave I want you to act as my proxy--sort of in loco parentis--and give Jessica a good "seeing to". Take her to our "playroom" and use whatever means you deem appropriate to correct her for her misbehaviour. Spare the rod and spoil the wife, Henry " As I read she tilted her head and regarded me thoughtfully. "That was some licking you gave Libby. She said you spanked really hard. It stung like the devil--and you just used your hand on her backside." "Don't forget her sorority sisters--they used paddles before I stated. I was just driving home the lesson." I put down the letter. "Do you know what this says?" I asked. "No. Henry didn't tell me. He said it would be a surprise." I flipped it to her. "It is. Go on, you may want to read this." She picked it up and began to read. Her eyes grew wide as she scanned the page. "Oh, my. Henry. " she said, shocked. Her jaw dropped. "You're blushing," I observed. "I-I don't know what to say. Why, that Henry, he...that scheming bastard...I thought he'd..." Then she shook her head with a wry smile. Henry's little joke. A "gotcha". They'd laugh about it later. "You thought he'd leave you alone to have a little fun." "I didn't expect this...". She was flustered. It was a delicious game between them, apparently. I don't think Jessica knew about the letter. They had cooked up between them the idea that Henry would leave abruptly to clear the way for Jessica to have an adventurous afternoon romp. "So, Jessica, what shall we do?" I was enjoying this beautiful woman's consternation. Then she straightened. She'd made up her mind I guessed. "Well, it seems I'm in for it. I am a dutiful wife...and I suppose I've been a bit naughty." The sly smile was back. So, " she said, pushing her chair back and rising, "follow me to the playroom." I'd have followed her to Hades and back, I thought, as I walked behind her, taking in the mesmerizing sway of her jouncy bottom straining against the tight sheath dress. As she walked she pulled a pin from her hair and shook her head, causing her long red hair to fall, flowing around her shoulders. We entered a room off the hall. Jessica flipped on some lights. I whistled. There was apparatus that at first looked like exercise machines. Closer inspection revealed a different purpose. These benches and things were designed to hold someone down. There was a bar suspended from the ceiling--with manacles on it. Along the wall was a rack of implements of various designs. Jessica turned to me. "This room hasn't been used in a while. It was used a lot before Henry's accident." She twisted her hands together and bit her lower lip. "When we used to enter this room, I called Henry "Sir". So, ah...how do you want me...Sir?" "I'm thinking," I said as I took off my jacket and hung it on a hook. She watched me with growing interest as I took off my tie and rolled up my sleeves. I sat on a padded bench and crooked my finger. "Come here, Jessica." She walked to me with mincing steps. "Sir, what are you going to do?" It was a timid little girl voice. "I'm going to spank your bottom until it is red and hot and stinging. Drape yourself across my lap, Jessica. Good girl," I said as she gingerly lowered herself over my knee, giving me a terrific view of her generous cleavage in the process. I rested my hand on the gorgeous swell of her seat and rubbed the mounds through the thin fabric. She moaned softly, a pleasure moan. "Now let's see, snapping at the staff were you?" I continued the massage of the deliciously resilient rounds. "Yes, sir," said the small voice. "Very thoughtless of you. Lift up." She obliged, lifting her midsection. I slowly raised the veil of her dress exposing the lush and beautiful mounds of her exquisite derriere, clad in flimsy black lace panties and beautifully framed by a black garter belt and sheer black stockings. Her skin was pale--usually the case with redheads. I rubbed my hand on each cheek in turn in small circular movements. She shivered as my palm caressed her. "This spanking is for rudeness, as you no doubt deserve." I raised my palm and brought it down flat on the crown of her right bottom globe. A sharp Smack! echoed off the walls. A split second later I smacked her left cheek. The splat! smack! whap! my hand rose and fell in a rapid cadence smacking from one cheek to the next, sometimes across the deep crease partially hidden by the panties. She wriggled and fluttered her legs in reaction to the stinging assault. I wasn't really spanking hard, just rapidly, trying to build up a hot stinging sensation in her backside. It was working. "Oooh...oh...ah," she squeaked as my hand splatted down. The flesh of her bottom wobbled at each impact. After about 100 brisk smacks, I put my fingers in the elastic of the brief panties. "Time for a sound spanking on your bare fanny, Mrs Mason." She made a little moan. I think it was pleasure. I slid the panties down baring the lovely moons of her perfectly formed posterior. Her waist was tiny and her hips were full making the mounds of her buttocks the most gorgeous of sights. The cheeks were pink with faint hand prints. I slowed the pace down but spanked harder now. Each full bodied smack caused her cheeks to ripple at impact, but when I removed my hand they would spring back with a wobble, assuming their former deliciously rounded shape. She writhed and moaned softly as the chastisement continued. I landed spank after spank on her naughty sit spot. A hot red glow began to appear in her seat. I was determined to make it glow like a beacon. After a set of 50 or 60 such slow deliberate smacks, she was panting and writhing sensuously across my lap. It seemed like she was pushing her bottom up to meet my descending hand. My cock was getting hard with the friction as well as the sight of her lovely moons bouncing under the assault of my stinging palm. I decided to finish with a fast hard flurry. As I spanked wriggling fanny she uttered sounds of either protest or arousal. It was hard to tell the difference. "Oh...ah...ow...nhh...umm...yeow..." she mewled at the insistent smack! smack! smack! of my hand, which by now was stinging as much as her bottom, no doubt. I finished with ten extra hard ones that made her arch her back and drum the floor with her toes. "Can you act more kindly now?" I said resting my hand on a hot bottom cheek. "Ow...yes, sir...ooh". "Kneel between my legs." She knelt, her hands behind her now, rubbing to take the sting out. I grabbed her and kissed her deeply. Our tongues intertwined. She responded by putting her arms around my neck and pulling me to her and kissing me back passionately. I helped her to her feet. "I think it is time for you to strip, Jessica." "Yes, sir," she responded, and reached down gathering her hem. She pulled the dress over her head. Underneath she was wearing a lacy black bra and panties with the black garter belt and stockings. She stood her hands intertwined as if awaiting approval. I whistled. She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Not only was her figure ravishing, but the combined effect of her lustrous red hair and white skin was devastatingly sexy. As I took in the loveliness of the goddess awaiting my intentions I was almost speechless, but I managed to croak, "the bra and panties too." She unclasped the bra, letting it fall. Her breasts were proud and firm, the nipples small but hard from arousal. She slipped her panties down to reveal a furry nest of red hair at her pelvic triangle. "Legs apart," I said, "and put your hands behind your back." I cupped the firm breasts and let my fingers gently pinch the hard nipples. I reached in between her legs and guided my hand through the red curls to her slit. It was as I had suspected, sopping wet and slick with feminine arousal. She moaned and her knees buckled slightly as I frigged her slowly. She couldn't help but make little sounds, "nhh...oh...oh...mmm" as I manipulated her slick wetness. I kept it up for awhile but when I sensed a change in her response, signaling approaching climax, I stopped. I stood back. "Now, there is the matter of your drinking, Mrs Mason. What I want you to do is pick an implement from the wall for me to correct you with." She licked her lips. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were bright. "Yes sir," she said quietly and walked over to the wall. The roll of her pink bottom was intoxicating. She selected a short stiff leather paddle and presented it to me. I took her by the hand and let her to a padded stool. "Over the stool and grip the legs," I commanded. She complied. The position thrust out her seat because her legs bent slightly at the knees. I tapped her nates a few times with the paddle. "This is for drinking a bit too much, Jessica. Please restrain yourself in the future." I gave her about twenty vigorous smacks across jutting fanny and I spread them out. They sounded like pistol shots in the confines of the hard-walled room. The fig between her legs glistened with slick dew and her breathing was ragged. Each brisk whap! of the leather paddle evoked a sharp "Ouch!" She was feeling this one a little more. Her buttocks approached the hue of a brilliant red sunset and the color of her spank spot stood out in sharp contrast to the whiteness of her skin. I put the paddle down and stood behind her. Slipping my fingers into her juicy slit I rubbed the length of it paying special attention to her hardened little clit. She gasped and humped her hips in time to the reciprocating motion of my hand. Again I stopped. "Please, oh please!" she entreated. "Not yet, Mrs Mason. You must still be corrected for you behavior at the faculty tea." "Ohhh..." she moaned. I gripped her arm again and pulled her along toward a lowered bar on an overhead cable. Fastening her wrists to cuffs on the bar I walked over to a winch on the wall and raised her arms until her body was upright but not stretched. This time I selected the fustigatory implement. It was to be a multithonged deerskin flogger. It had about a dozen soft strands about 18" long on a foot long handle. I swished it as I approached. Her eyes followed the swishing leather thongs. I stood in front of her and wrapped my arm around her waist, mashing her body against mine. Then I gripped the back of her neck and pulling her mouth to mine, kissed her again--on the mouth, on the neck, all over her face. With my other hand I squeezed and fondled her hot nether cheeks, cupping and caressing each sumptuous globe in turn. She ground her pelvis against me trying to stimulate her sex. I was sure she could feel my hardened cock through my slacks. I broke our clinch and stepped behind her. She eyed me over her shoulder with anticipation as I ran the strands of the whip through my fingers. "One hundred lashes, Jessica. Look straight ahead and thrust your fanny out." She complied, hollowing the small of her back and making the lush cheeks bulge. I gave her ten hard lashes, one after another. Each lash bit into the rounded bottom and made it quiver. I stopped and went around to her side, once again running my fingers up and down the length of her slit. She bucked against my hand trying to get herself off. I stopped, resumed my position, and gave her another hard ten lashes. I alternated between whipping her magnificent ass and frigging her clit. By the time 100 lashes had been meted out, she was begging for release. I couldn't hold out much longer myself. I lowered the bar a bit and replaced the whip. "Bend way over, Jessica and spread your legs," I said huskily. She knew what was coming, and bent over, offering herself to me like a mare in heat. She heard the zip of my fly as I liberated my swollen penis. I let my pants drop and almost tore off my shirt. She gripped the bar and pushed her buttocks back as I guided the head of my shaft into her sopping pussy. As I slid in to the hilt she inhaled sharply. We didn't waste any time. I thrust my hips, slowly at first and then in a furious jackhammer motion. Both of us were too close to climax to even think about holding back. I held out as long as I could but when I felt her body shudder in climax I came in torrents. It seemed to last forever. The glorious tension we had built up was finally unleashed in a paroxism of intense orgasm. We finally disengaged. I uncuffed her and kissed her tenderly. She didn't say a word but took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We renewed our passion several more times. I even reheated her fanny with a little paddle she kept in a nightstand. By mid afternoon I was exhausted. **************************** I barely made my flight. It was late on Friday afternoon, but I decided to go into the office and read my mail before the weekend. It would be a laid back weekend, I decided. Maybe I'd take up golf. I was thinking about ol' Bob and the boys up on the ridge out of Goshen. What did he see in the game? You walk along and whack something round and white and defenseless with a stick--well come to think of it, maybe there was something to it. My woolgathering was interrupted by the realization that someone was there in my office. As I opened the door I was greeted by Jane. "Hi Boss," she chirped, "glad to see you back." Then she bit her lower lip. "What?" I said. "Uhh...it's Friday afternoon, boss. Here's my list--I didn't quite get that filing done. I guess I'm in for it, hunhh?" Omigod, I realized as she handed me the transgression list and my handy wooden ruler. There is just no rest for the weary. END
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