Saturday, April 07, 2012

Appointment for Contrition, Part 4


© Guyspencer 2012

Appointment for Contrition, Part 4 

Over a the next few months, bit by bit, the “Contrition Protocol” was born in Sister March’s living room. 

For the next several evenings after Dr. Lee’s first spanking, they excitedly talked and planned.  They already had agreed on what they wanted to accomplish, now they needed a plan of action.  Ultimately they decided to start by forming a “women’s circle” group, which would meet at the church weekly.  They would do everything possible to make the meetings pleasant and fruitful, and to encourage 100% attendance.  The individual counseling sessions would spring from the group meetings.  First they would encourage individual sessions only with those few who needed help the worst, but then eventually all members would be involved.  Punishments would be gradually introduced only when (or if) they would be beneficial in each case.

“We need to counsel our members until they see their own role in causing their troubles,” the young Pastor explained, “they must be contrite and yearn for change before we can help them.”

Sister March’s face lit up, “Contrite, I like that concept.  Let’s call them ‘Contrition’ Meetings.”

And so their plan had a name, “Contrition”.  Later, Sister March came to call the whole scheme the “Contrition Protocol”, but Dr. Lee thought that a bit pretentious.  He usually called it simply “Contrition.”  Since the individual counseling sessions would be scheduled in advance, he called them “Contrition Appointments”.  

They wasted little time organizing the “Ladies Circle” meetings.  They were lunchtime on Wednesdays, and soon became very popular.  More than 90% of the female congregation was there every week.
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Meanwhile, both Sister March and Dr. Lee were laying the foundations for what was to come.  Dr. Lee spent considerable time preparing for each Ladies Circle meeting.  He wanted each meeting to be vibrant and interesting to maintain attendance, but he also wanted to lead the ladies towards introspection.  Also, in preparation for his imminent role as counselor, he was reviewing his seminary school psychology texts. 

Sister March also did her part to prepare Dr. Lee.  As she had expected, one spanking didn’t solve all of young Dr. Lee’s issues.  This was valuable experience, because together they were learning the limits of spanking as a behavior modification tool.  The immediate effect of Dr. Lee’s first spanking was to reduce his sex drive, reduce his guilt, and make him much less likely to actually engage in sex.  However, that reduction in his sex drive disappeared almost as soon as the sting did.  After all, sex drive comes from the “hard wired” part of a man’s brain, and so resists change.  However, the other two effects were much longer lasting.

On a weekly basis, they continued those odd “Counseling” sessions where Dr. Lee unburdened himself to Sister March. Sometimes those sessions ended with Dr. Lee back across Sister March’s lap, but usually not.  “Just in case” the Young Pastor always wore those same pajamas so they could be easily doffed.  (It was probably those white pajamas that later triggered the idea of the white “Truth” gowns.) Fortunately, those spankings served to assuage the Pastor’s feelings of guilt, and made him think twice before jumping into bed with any other women.

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Other preparations continued:
One day she told him, “Soon it will be your turn to spank me.  When that happens I don’t know how I will react, but I want you to spank me hard regardless.  Having been recently spanked, you have some idea how long and how hard a spanking is supposed to be, so I trust you.  Use just your hand, but spank my bottom bright red and make me cry!  If I beg you to stop, ignore me and do your job.  Understand?”

Surprised, the young man said “What if I injure you?”

“Bottoms are tough, there’s really little chance of that.  Like I said, I trust you.”

He started to protest, but seeing her mouth tighten into a firm, stubborn line, he shyly nodded agreement.

Dr. Lee honestly never thought of Sister March in a sexual way, but he couldn’t help but wonder; in what state of dress or undress would she be in for her spanking?
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One evening about a week later, Sister March asked Dr. Lee if he could spare time to give her a “counseling session”.  They agreed to meet in the living room at nine.

Promptly at nine, Dr. Lee strode into the living room to find Sister March.  They sat down, shared a prayer, and started to talk.  Sister March was wearing a housecoat, but that wasn’t unusual for her.

After some preliminary conversation, Sister March started talking about guilt, and then steered the conversation to some shameful events in her past.  As the conversation continued, she managed to dredge up some old feelings of genuine guilt and shed real tears.  Smoothly taking his cue, Dr. Lee started talking about forgiveness and salvation and how someone should express true remorse and through some act of contrition seek the inspiration and strength to truly change their lives.

“I can help with that,” he said, “help you down the path of contrition.  God’s forgiveness is infinite, but self-forgiveness is less certain.  You could accept a real consequence to help expunge your guilt so you can get on with your life and on with God’s work.  I’m suggesting that you simply humble yourself enough to submit to an intervention, it would be a moderate spanking”.

She looked at him with big eyes, playing a part. “Will it hurt?”

“Yes Sister March.  God’s forgiveness is between him and you, but the best path to your self-forgiveness is to suffer a real consequence.  So yes, you must suffer.  Also you may find the process embarrassing, but at least it will be private; just us and God.”

She looked down, and then nodded solemnly, significantly. 

“And so you are truly contrite, truly ready for change and truly ready to accept your consequence?”

“Yes Pastor”

“Then stand Sister March.”

When she obeyed, Dr. Lee took the same chair that Sister March had previously used to spank him.  He motioned for her to come to him.

Unsure what (if anything) Sister March planned to bare, he purposely left his instructions vague. “Prepare yourself, and then prostrate yourself across my lap.”

His heart skipped several beats as her fingers went to the buttons on her housecoat.  She started at the top, and then worked her way down.  Halfway down, he could clearly see that she was braless.  Button number 6, revealed her navel.  The next button exposed a triangle of hair.  She shrugged off the garment and stood before him naked.

Sister March was old enough to be his mother.  He had expected to see sagging flesh and fragile parchment skin.  Instead, he saw a vision of amazingly preserved, albeit mature, femininity. Her moderately-sized breasts still mostly defied gravity.  Her belly, through self-discipline, good diet and fortunate genes, was still mostly flat.  Her hips were rounded and flattered the rest of her full figure.  With a sigh, she lowered herself across his lap, and onto his erection.  Then it became obvious that Sister March’s state of preservation extended to her bottom.  It appeared to be full, firm, round, and remarkably spankable. 

The young Pastor blushed, knowing that she couldn’t possibly have missed feeling his erection.

Sister March did indeed feel the lump, and was vaguely complimented, but she had other matters on her mind just then.  Even though she had purposely instigated this whole situation, her guilty mood and the tears she had summoned were quite real, as was the spanking she was poised to receive.  Her last spanking had been over a decade ago, at the hands of her departed husband.  Even though she knew she was a free and eligible woman, and even though men had offered, she hadn’t dated since her husband’s death.  This position, lying naked across this young man’s lap, was suddenly igniting embers that had been quite cold for the last several years.  She knew that it would never be with Dr. Lee, but suddenly she found herself yearning for intimate male companionship.

The first spank, soundly delivered to the apex of her right buttock brought her mind back to the business-at-hand.  Her mouth formed an “O” when the sting registered, and her right leg gave a little surprised kick.  Seconds later, her left buttock had a similar meeting with the Pastor’s open hand.  That caused the lady to twist her bottom away from her young Pastor.  His first lesson learned, he stopped for just a moment to urge her back into position and to wrap his left arm firmly around her waist.  She found this new snug closeness comforting at first, but it wasn’t lost on her that he had pinned her down and made her helpless, made her a mere passenger on the runaway bus that was her imminent butt-reddening.

The Pastor looked in wonder at the twin orbs, each now decorated by one red handprint.  He decided the handprints looked lonely and needed company, so Sister March’s spanking started in earnest.  As she had earlier vowed to herself, Sister March took her punishment in silence for as long as possible.  She feared that the gentle Pastor would stop too soon if she gave vent to her feelings, so she bit her lip and concentrated on holding still while the spanks rained down on her unprotected bottom.  Also, to keep from distracting the young man with an impromptu gynecological display, she tried to keep her legs firmly together.  She eventually failed on both accounts.

Naturally, there were many thoughts and sensations buzzing through the Pastor’s head.  For the rest of his life he would remember the sight of that bottom turning colors, deforming with each spank, wiggling, jiggling, and then impossibly popping back into its God-given male-enticing shape.  He was surprised at the sting in his spanking hand, and naturally, he wondered what Sister March was feeling.  To his shame, her increasingly urgent movements stimulated that certain part of him that betrayed his prurient interest.

He delivered the spanking in a firm and measured fashion.  In due course, he felt the lady stiffen, and then gradually start to struggle.  Against her will, her right hand set off on a mission to deflect some of the blows from her stinging bottom.  He stopped momentarily.  With gentle words, he persuaded her to place the errant hand onto her back so he could safely restrain it.

Steeling himself, he started again, distinctly harder and faster than before.  In a voice several octaves higher than usual she squealed “No, no, nooooooo.”  Those were the last intelligible words she spoke until several minutes later.  As the spanking continued, the lady squealed, shrieked, and then finally dissolved into genuine tears.  Her sobbing nonplussed him, quickly sabotaging his resolve.  The spanking trailed off.  Dr. Lee sat there, rubbing the lady’s back, looking at her red bottom and feeling like a bully. 

When she regained her composure, he released her, and then helped her back to her feet, averting his gaze from her nakedness.  She reached back ruefully to rub the sting from her bottom, and pranced just a bit.  Quickly he stood, grabbed her housecoat, and draped it over her shoulders to hide her nakedness.  She actually managed a smile.  He started to apologize for hurting her, but she quickly touched his lips to stop him.

“You did just fine!  There’s nothing to apologize for.  We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”  With that, the lady retreated to her bedroom for the evening.   
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Sister March lay on her bed, face down. The spanking had awakened notions and urges that she had previously assumed were forever in her past.  She tried to picture the last man who had spanked her, her late husband.  Try as she might, she couldn’t summon his face.  It was both sad and liberating to discover that his ghost was truly gone.  She had genuinely loved the man, and had always been faithful to him,  But for the first time since her marriage at 18, she felt like a free woman.

With a new interest, her thoughts turned to the two widowers in the congregation.  Both had individually expressed interest in her, but she had put them off.  Bob was a sweet guy.  She imagined him here in her bedroom taking care of her and somehow trying to doctor her sore bottom.  That was interesting, but not interesting enough. 

Henry was quite different from gentle Bob.  Henry was an impressive, masterful guy, a retired police sergeant who was used to getting his way.  She imagined herself, panties down, squirming across Henry’s lap as he spanked her red.  She squeezed her bottom to bring back some of the sting.  It had been ages since she had last pleasured herself, but one never forgets how.  Her hand slipped down past her belly to find its mark. It just seemed like the thing to do.

She slept the sleep of the dead.  It was the best night’s sleep she had enjoyed in years.  Was it the spanking or the climax?  She couldn’t decide.  Lazing in bed, she thought of the pastor.  She was still determined to allow him to practice spanking her, but it would only get more painful after last night’s session.  Last night’s spanking had ended too soon.  Further, the Pastor’s technique would surely improve with practice and with the tips she intended to provide.  Each time it would be embarrassing for him to see her expose her body and then see her undignified display as she thrashed, kicked, shrieked, begged, and cried real tears.  Still, she saw this as a unique opportunity to do God’s work. Further, she hadn’t mentioned to him yet, but he also would need some practice with a paddle, and eventually a strap.  The paddle and strap would hurt much worse!  Later her bottom would throb and take days to heal.  She told herself that this would be her unique sacrifice for the good of the congregation.

When she finally crawled out of bed, much later than usual, she walked out of her bedroom expecting to be alone in the house.  It was past time for the Pastor to be in his office, but instead she found him nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen with a worried look on his face.  He stood as soon as he spied her, “Sister March, are you OK?”

“I’m just fine,” she replied in a hearty voice.  Softer she asked, “Are you still worried that you hurt me?” 

She could tell by the look on his face that it was true.  Then she got an audacious idea.  It would embarrass them both, but it would set his heart at ease.  Turning her back to him, she bent down to undo the bottom few buttons on her housecoat.  She bent over, hiked her housecoat, and mooned the startled young man.  To his surprise, her bottom was unmarked.  It had fully recovered overnight.

“See?” she said, “I wasn’t going to bring this up until this evening, but you actually stopped that spanking two or three minutes too soon.  Next time, I’m sure you’ll do a better job.”

His face red from blushing, he heaved a sigh of relief.

“I would never have asked you for that peek Sister March, but I appreciate it.  I feel better now.  I was really feeling like a bully.”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t see it.” She remarked airily, “You had a good close look at it last night, and you still need practice, so you’ll be seeing more of it soon.”

The man blushed even more.
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That evening, and thereafter the evening after each of Sister March’s spankings, they held sort of a “debriefing” to discuss each spanking.  Also Sister March offered tips, such as the location of especially sensitive spots.  She always made it clear that she fully expected him to try out this new knowledge on her own bottom at their next session! 

Dr. Lee took the opportunity to ask if their spankings really needed to be given in the nude.  Sister March was adamant on that point.  “First, you need to actually see the bottom you are spanking for safety reasons, and also to be sure you are doing a good job.  But just as important are the psychological reasons.  Being nude symbolizes that the person has given up all control and is offering herself for correction with nothing held back.  Also, it’s a symbol of truth and openness, because nothing is hidden.” 

“Besides,” she said, “We’re all adults.  By now we all know the shapes God made our male and female bodies into.  It would be different if we were talking about disciplining children.”

After a moment’s thought, Dr. Lee could only agree.

So over the next few weeks, Sister March loaned her bottom for three more hand spankings.  Dr. Lee did a much better job on the second one, but overdid it a bit on the third attempt, leaving bruises.  She gave her bottom two weeks rest before presenting it to Dr. Lee for his last hand spanking practice.  After she recovered, she pronounced that one perfect!  Now she still had to convince him to “qualify” with a paddle, and then a strap, but that could come later.  She honestly wasn’t looking forward to feeling those implements, and knew that they would do some temporary damage to her bottom, but she knew it would soon be necessary
Over this time, Dr. Lee continued to unburden himself to Sister March in weekly “counseling sessions”.  He was showing improvement!  Only one more session ended up with Dr. Lee over Sister March’s lap.

Meanwhile, the “Contrition Protocol” was gradually being introduced to a willing and growing group of ladies.  They did it in a truly democratic way.  Each element of the Protocol was introduced through a careful “guided discussion” where the Pastor cleverly led to group to a pre-ordained conclusion.  Then they would vote, always seeming to vote the way he had intended, and to do so unanimously. Sister March helped by planting ideas in the ladies’ minds whenever she got the chance.   If nothing else, the young Pastor was persuasive.  At the end, the ladies thought everything was their own idea!  Attendance at the Ladies Circle meetings themselves, started out as “optional”, then became “highly suggested” and then finally was voted to be mandatory for all adult female members.  Likewise, the individual consoling meetings were at first offered only to a few special cases, but were now open to all members of the Ladies Circle, and became known as “Contrition Appointments.”  The ladies didn’t know it yet, but soon they would unanimously vote to make them mandatory.

No mention had yet been made of spanking any congregation members, but that would happen soon! 


© Guyspencer 2012

1 Comments:

Anonymous Ordalie said...

"she managed to dredge up some old feelings of genuine guilt"
IMO, dredge up is not an accurate word here, we all have feelings of guilt lurking in our minds or even beetling over us, and the older we are the more numerous they are.
We can't forgive ourselves and when we die it'll be with an awful load of unsaid and unforgiven guilt.

6:15 AM, August 27, 2012  

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