Saturday, June 15, 2013

Queen For a Day

© Guyspencer 2013
                                                              Queen For a Day

To us, they lived in a remote and impassible wilderness.  But they believed they lived in the center of the universe.  Their lush little valley isolated them from the rest of humanity.  Fortunately for them, they possessed nothing that the outside world valued, so the outside world ignored them.  Yes, they vaguely knew that people existed beyond their valley, but outsiders always brought violence or disease.  So outsiders were made unwelcome, violently so.

Since they knew of no other villages or cultures to distinguish themselves from, these people had no name for themselves or their little hamlet. So we’ll call them the “Village People”.  Naturally, the Village People had a culture, including a system of customs.  To outsiders, some of those customs might seem strange and primitive, perhaps even cruel or immoral.  But their customs worked for them and suited this tiny civilization.   

The village was ruled as a matriarchy.  The Queen was the absolute authority.  Her consort was a man chosen for certain special skills and respected as a teacher of those skills.     

One custom that seems almost universal across human cultures is some manner of “coming of age” ritual, especially for females.  The Village People had a rather unique custom to mark a girl’s transition from maidenhood to womanhood.  The translation from their language is “Queen one sun”, but we’ll call it “Queen for a day”.


Erga was a young maiden with a developing body, long legs and flawless dark skin.  There are no secrets in one room huts, so the basics of sex held little mystery to Erga.  Although no mystery, sex was forbidden to Erga as it was to all the village maidens. 

Since the moon had been making Erga bleed for two seasons now, the Queen judged her ripe for womanhood.  As a woman, she would have the right to choose a husband.  To mark her official transition, she would be made Queen for one day.  For that single sun-cycle the Queen’s consort would serve as her personal tutor into the mysteries of womanhood.  

On the appointed day, the Queen arose before sunrise.  Quietly and regally, she walked from the village and into the wilderness, leaving her consort alone in the royal hut.  Nobody knew where she went on these occasions, and none dared follow.  She would stay gone a full day,  reappearing the following morning to greet the village’s new woman.

The day before, Erga’s mother lovingly prepared her.  A long scrub in the stream, her hair deloused and plaited, her body ornamented, and her best loincloth prepared.

At sunrise, Erga’s mother escorted her to the Queen’s hut, and to the waiting consort.  The mother dutifully sang the customary chant to announce her daughter’s arrival, but there was a sadness etched on her face that any mother from any culture would understand.

As you would expect, Erga was simultaneously excited and frightened.  The details of her training inside the Royal hut were supposedly secret, but girls talk in any culture.  Besides, sounds escape the hut!  So she had an inkling of what to expect. She was resigned to pain, but had also heard hints of great delights.  Erga bit her lip as the animal skin that served as a door moved aside to allow her entrance.  She looked around, but her mother was gone.  She found herself alone with the consort in the privacy of the Royal hut.

To the Village People, the male’s role was primarily as hunters, workers, and fighters.  Also they existed to serve and to please their women, who were the heads of their households.  The Queen’s consort was the bravest and fiercest fighter of all, yet he treated Erga as gently as if she were a new born baby.  He removed her loincloth.  She was stiff with tension, so he used “medicine man” tricks to massage the hardness from her flesh.  She began to enjoy his ministrations.

A log served as a chair.  He sat and eased the naked maiden across his lap.  The Village People punish their children when they misbehave, so Erga was unhappily familiar with this position.  She tightened up again.  Again he massaged the tightness from her.  Working patiently, he started with her arms, and then her shoulders, and then down her back as far as her waist.  Then he moved down to her feet and patiently massaged his way up.  As she gradually relaxed, he felt her go limp and hang from his lap.

He urged her thighs open, then massaged her thigh muscles.  Moments later, Erga felt the first ever male touch to her womanhood.  It was the merest brush, seemingly accidental.  She caught her breath, shocked at the sensations that little touch had unleashed.

Now he worked on the big muscles of her buttocks, massaging away their nervous tension.  As he did so, his touches to her womanhood became more often and more frank.  She squirmed with awakening desire.  He smiled as he felt her intimate parts swell and detected the first lubrication.   
The Village People’s vocabulary was sufficient for the consort to express that there was some pain coming, but she should trust him and surrender herself to the experience.  Immediately, her buttock muscles tightened up again, and patiently he massaged out the tension before he blessed her taut, shapely bottom with the first mild spanks.

Alternately he spanked her bottom and massaged between her legs.  Erga squirmed and panted.  She wondered what was happening to her as her arousal built towards an unprecedented pinnacle.  As the spanks became firmer, Erga became more vocal.  Soon the hut rang with slapping noises and her squeals were clearly audible outside.  She kicked and shrieked her way through the hardest spanks.  With amazing delicacy, he continued massaging her aroused but delicate quim.  As she built towards her very first orgasm, Erga was simultaneously afraid that he would stop his ministrations, and afraid that he wouldn’t!  She had never felt this feeling before, had never even been allowed to masturbate, and now that it was finally happening she was afraid that she might explode, or perhaps some spirit would take over her uncontrollable body at this defenseless moment.   Erga screamed in release, writhing over the consort’s lap, her red bottom pumping and clenching fiercely. 

Never before had Erga connected the supposedly opposite concepts of pain and pleasure.  Now that her very first orgasm had happened in the midst of a spanking, the two were forever one!

She rolled off his lap, landing on the royal sleeping pallet.  She knew what was next, so she tensed up again.  She erroneously believed that the first time would hurt almost as much as childbirth, so was afraid.  The size of his erect organ reinforced her fear.  How could something that size possibly enter her tiny virgin opening?  But the consort was a master!  He cooed at her and again massaged the tension from her body.  As she relaxed, he gently stimulated her towards arousal.  A true professional at his art, he knew the value of relaxation, arousal, and lubrication.              

When the moment was right, he pushed firmly.  Her eyes widened as her body accommodated him.  It only hurt for a moment.

A few delicious minutes later, happily impaled on the Royal manhood, Erga became a woman and enjoyed the second orgasm of her young life.  

When she finally calmed down, they dressed each other.


Erga truly was “Queen for a day”.  That was a key part of the custom.  Today the consort would escort her around the village, and she would actually rule!  As she walked, people came from afar just to bow to her.  As custom demanded, all males turned their heads away from her to show their submissiveness.  Just like the real Queen, today she would make all decisions, settle any disputes, and dispense any justice.  Today, Erga’s word was truly law.  The only person she wasn’t allowed to rule over was the consort himself, and that was only because he was her teacher.  (Just to be safe, the true Queen had already ensured that no really important or irreversible decisions were likely to come before the girl!)

With her morning’s queenly duties done, Erga escorted the consort to her parent’s hut, where a special noon meal awaited.  Erga’s parents acted as gracious hosts to the temporary Queen and her temporary consort.  But still, Erga’s mother looked at her wistfully, knowing that her innocent daughter was forever gone.

As they left, the consort made a suggestion: If the Queen would like, they could make a detour to the royal hut for a bit more instruction.  Yes, the Queen would like that!  This time he demonstrated how another male organ can trigger an orgasm.  Half the village heard her shriek of release.          

That evening, the village enjoyed a huge feast and dance, but Erga and her consort retired early.  All night, they alternated between napping and mating.  Always gentle and careful, he demonstrated different positions and different techniques.  The Royal consort happily enjoyed the orgasmic benefits of his tuition, but like the professional he was, he ensured that Erga’s satisfaction and comfort always came first.  After all, his main function in the village was to break in every virgin correctly!  This assured the arrival of  future generations of villagers.

Just before the break of dawn, the consort awoke Erga from an unusually long nap.  It was time for a last-minute spanking.  She was reluctant, but the teacher insisted.  Over his lap the naked maiden went.

This time, the spanking was more intense, almost like a real punishment spanking.  Her dusky bottom bucked, heaved and colored  under the onslaught.  She cried loudly and deeply.  When he finally allowed her up, she hugged him furiously and sobbed out her hurt against his chest as he comforted her.  Gradually, almost imperceptibly, his “comforting” became more personal and distinctly erotic.  Soon they were back down on the pallet for one final furious shag.  As she came, she wrapped her legs around him, screamed, and dug her fingernails into his back.  It was a wonderful performance that left them both breathless.  Erga had learned again that pain and pleasure can mix wonderfully.

Meanwhile, the Queen had come strolling back into the village to reclaim her rule.  She smiled in approval as she heard her husband deliver his final carnal lesson to the village’s newest woman.

As he dressed Erga for the last time, he reverted to instructor mode, “Erga, the Gods have granted us only this one sun-cycle together.  I have lit a permanent fire in your loins, so you will forever crave satisfaction.  But it will never again come from me.  You must choose a husband and teach him to satisfy you as I have satisfied you.  After your marriage, bring him to me so I can teach you how to properly discipline him.”

Erga shyly emerged from the Royal hut to the applause of the Queen, a small crowd of well-wishers and a gaggle of hopeful future husbands.  The Royal hut had just given birth to a new woman.

Her special day over, the much-changed Erga started her new life as a real woman with a newly-stoked yearning in her loins.   

Soon there would be a new hut and a new family to produce the offspring necessary to assure the future of the village.

 Guyspencer Home Page
© Guyspencer 2013

Saturday, June 08, 2013

Appointment for Contrition, Part 10

© Guyspencer 2013

Appointment for Contrition, Part 10
 (A Husband is Chastised)

It was Wednesday morning, time for the weekly Ladies Circle meeting.  It was convened in the fellowship room, located in the church basement.  The fellowship room seemed long and narrow because space was taken by a line of small “Sunday school” classrooms along the length of the basement.   

In cheap folding chairs, the ladies sat in an arc around today’s facilitators, Pastor Lee and Sister March.  Today’s subject was unusually interesting to the group, involving plans for the confirmation of two girls who had recently come of age, and were to be declared adults and full members of the congregation.  Also. those girls must be presented with their new “truth gowns”, introduced to the Contrition Protocol, and inducted into the Ladies Circle.  Since this had never been done before, the group was treading new ground.  How should the church deal with the sensitive issue of private Contrition Appointments between unmarried ladies and their young unmarried Pastor?  What if spankings were required?   Was it OK for him to see the young ladies nude?  Would it start rumors?

Riveting as this subject was, an onlooker might notice some of the ladies seemed a bit distracted.  Certain of them glanced over their shoulders at a man sitting alone in the back of the room.  Some looks were hostile, some curious, but one lady, Sandy, gave him a concerned and loving look.  She caught his eye and favored him with a wry smile.  Sandy noticed that he was sweating, visibly nervous.   Sandy was vaguely worried that her husband, Earl, might bolt. 

Earl had good reason to be nervous.  Upstairs in the sanctuary there was another meeting scheduled shortly after this one.  It was to be an “ Intervention Gathering”, a public punishment session.  Earl was the person to be chastised.  

A few minutes before the end of the Ladies Circle meeting, Pastor Lee gave Sandy a significant nod.  With others watching knowingly, Sandy rose, walked back to her husband, and led him into one of the Sunday school rooms.  She locked the door behind them.  The two embraced, their nervous trembling mutual.  Finally the man spoke, “Don’t feel sorry for me honey, I deserve what I’m about to get for cheating on you.”

He continued with a choke, “Sandy, when this is over, when I’ve taken my punishment, can things be normal again between us?”

Squeezing a bit harder, Sandy replied, “Things already are normal between us, and they’ll only get better.  Today is about your contrition to the church members and to our God, but soon that will be over and then everything will return to normal.  Should we help each other get ready?

For the trip upstairs, Sandy would wear her white “truth” gown.  Since there was no equivalent male garment, it had been decided that Earl would wear a white bathrobe.  Since Earl was the first male to face an Intervention Gathering, some inventiveness was required.  It had also been decided that Sandy would accompany her husband to the altar, where she would have the honor of delivering the first warm-up spanks to her husband’s bottom.  

Alternately removing one item at a time, Sandy and Earl undressed each other.  Just a few weeks ago, this would have been unthinkable for the formerly sexually repressed Sandy, but a week spent at a Christian retreat entitled “Godly Sensuality for Couples” had helped her immensely.  Soon they were both naked.  As she had expected, Earl sported an erection solid as a steel rod.  Upstairs, in front of dozens of parishioners, mostly female, Earl would be expected to doff his robe for punishment.  This would never do!

Sandy had thought ahead, and had the solution.  Again, it was something unthinkable to her just a few weeks ago.   She had stashed a few items in a bag.  She fell to her knees before her turgid husband.  Even though he was already perfectly clean, she extracted a wet cloth from a plastic bag and used to wash Earl’s rigid member.  For the first time ever, she touched her tongue to his glans and then circled the tip of his penis several times.  Suddenly weak-kneed, Earl groaned in surprise and delight at this unexpected favor.  This was as far as Sandy was willing to go.  Not yet ready for full-on oral sex, she had another trick in her bag.  She opened a small bottle of massage oil left over from the retreat and drizzled some on her hands.  Guessing what was next and not trusting his legs, Earl backed into a corner to support himself.  With her warm, slick hands, Sandy inexpertly brought her husband to orgasm.   Earl enthusiastically spurted into the cloth that Sandy produced barely in time, sparing them an embarrassing cleanup job. 

Irreverently,  Earl wondered how many  wank jobs happen in Sunday school rooms.    The operation was successful.  At least temporarily, Earl was deflated.  They helped each other on with their robes.  Poor Earl’s nervousness had returned, he shook with fear.  Hand-in -hand, they walked upstairs to the waiting congregation and Earl’s corporal fate.
Pastor Lee blamed himself when he realized that he had been seeing Sandy at her contrition appointments, yet had missed the clues to her sexual problems and how unhappy they had been making her marriage.  Sandy had been raised in a strict family and in a church with conservative teachings about sexuality.  She had been taught to think of sex as “dirty”, and as a sacrificial “duty” of a wife.  Sex was only for procreation, never for recreation.  Sandy’s parents even slept in separate beds!

On her wedding day, Sandy had walked to the alter as a virgin in every sense of the word.  No man had ever gazed on her charms, let alone touch them!  Denied any satisfaction until after the wedding, Earl had married her on faith that a wedding ring was the key to sexual happiness with this beautiful young lady.  His optimism was misplaced.   As it turned out, for the first three years of their marriage, Earl seldom saw his wife naked.  She dressed in private or in the dark.  Sex was a quick and furtive duty, done under the sheets in a dark bedroom.  Sandy expected no enjoyment from the act, and the thrill soon wore off for poor Earl.  Earl stayed loyal at first, but eventually his eyes wandered.  The other ladies in the church had long noticed, and kept their distance from Earl.  Eventually Earl strayed, and almost immediately was caught.  Sandy did what she and Earl should have done years ago, she asked for help.  She took the problem to Reverend Lee.     

Reverend Lee’s first priority was to end Earl’s philandering and get the couple back together.  Punishment could come later.  Earl claimed his cheating days were over, but Dr. Lee felt that promise was worth little until he could be made happy in his union with Sandy.

After several counseling sessions designed to convince Sandy that sexuality in marriage was not only not “dirty” but was actually part of God’s plan for happy and secure family life, he sent them to the “Godly Sensuality for Couples” retreat.

The first days of the retreat had been difficult for both Earl and Sandy, but difficult for vastly different reasons.  Sandy was fighting against a lifetime of sexual repression, and was trying to change her ways by honestly participating in the group discussions, and by obediently tackling  the later “sensual assignments” in their private room.  Earl, on the other hand, found the “sensual assignments” highly stimulating, but was required to hold back and make no advances on Sandy beyond the “assignment”.  He found this very frustrating.  As the days went by, the “assignments” pushed Sandy’s limits further, and thus became more to Earl’s liking.

On day six, they had a huge breakthrough.  Earl was allowed to give Sandy a long massage, which became “personal” enough that he was able to bring Sandy to her first orgasm ever.  Her reaction astonished him.  For the first time ever, he found his wife naked and clinging to him passionately.  They did what came naturally.  For the first time ever, Earl felt truly married.

The final day was dedicated to “variations”.  They were sent to their room and told to select one of several role-play scenarios.  To Earl’s surprise, Sandy decided to be the “bad girl” while Earl played the part of “daddy”.  Earl pretended to scold her, removed her skirt and panties, and took her across his lap.  Sandy mind was filled with conflicting images.  Part of her enjoyed playing at being childlike again, part of her brain swirled with old issues from teen spankings, while a newly discovered part of her quickly became aroused!  The spanking was a mild affair, barely turning her bottom pink, but she writhed, kicked, and hunched.  Earl’s finger explored, and Sandy’s second orgasm quickly followed.  Just as Rome wasn’t built in a day, Sandy still hadn’t totally left her sexual repression behind her, but she was suddenly on her way to becoming a passionate wife and a budding spanking fan.        

It was only after it became clear that Earl and Sandy’s marriage was on the mend that Pastor brought up the subject of “contrition” in a joint counseling session.  “Earl, are you ready to accept full responsibility for your actions?  Are you ready to seek true forgiveness and accept a fair consequence for your betrayal of Sandy?”  Earl gulped.  Concern in her eyes, Sandy took his hand.  She could feel him tremble.  They both knew this would eventually come, they had even discussed it, but here was the true test of Earl’s resolve.

His voice shook when he finally answered, “Yes Pastor, I’m ready.  Would you like me to leave so that you and Sandy can discuss my punishment?”

Dr. Lee spoke kindly, “Yes Earl, that would be appropriate.”

Earl was aware that at least two other men on the congregation had felt the sting of Dr. Lee’s strap.  As he glumly left the office this was the verdict he expected.   Alone in the sanctuary, Earl had stewed alone for 20 minutes when he saw Sister March at the front door.   She greeted him distractedly, and then disappeared into the office.  It was clear to Earl that the three of them were now discussing his fate.  Perhaps Sister March was to restrain him while Dr. Lee applied the strap to his bared bottom?  Thinking of the possibilities, and fearing an immediate summons for punishment, Earl’s heart thumped. 

The reality turned out to be worse than anything Earl had imagined!     

After what seemed liked hours, Dr. Lee stuck his head out his office door and beaconed to Earl.  Feeling condemned, and with his buttocks cringing, Earl crept into the office.  Nobody offered him a chair, so he stood.  He tried to avoid all three sets of eyes, but he noticed tears on Sandy’s cheeks, and he saw Sister March’s mouth set in a thin white line.

Dr. Lee finally cleared his throat.  “Here’s the problem,” he began, “this isn’t just about you and Sandy.  It’s also about many of the female congregation members.   It seems that many of them feel that you have hit on them in the past, and others feel (rightly or wrongly) that you have improperly stared at them.  Further, many of them think of Sandy as a sister, so they take your betrayal of her very personally.”    

The Pastor allowed a few moments for this to sink in before dropping his bombshell, “So when problems have spread to the larger congregation, and when you need to show contrition to many members, we have a special way of dealing with that.”

Earl felt his mouth go dry. “You can’t mean... Oh no!  I thought that was just for the ladies.”   

“No” Dr. Lee corrected, “You will be the first male, but an Intervention Gathering is for any congregation member.  Nobody is exempt, not even myself or Sister March.”  Sister March squirmed at that last, but she didn’t contradict Dr. Lee.  On reflection, she could only agree. 

Pastor Lee led the four in prayer, asking for wisdom for the group and bravery for Earl.  Moments later, Earl agreed to submit himself to an Intervention Gathering.


So now you know why Earl and Sandy were wearing their gowns and walking arm-in-arm up the stairs to the waiting congregation in the church’s main sanctuary.  In the foyer, they met Sister March, who locked the front doors of the church, and motioned them down the central aisle.

They paused just outside the wide double sanctuary doors for a final snuggle and kiss.  Fortunately for Earl, there were only about three dozen parishioners in today’s congregation.  Since this was happening during working hours, the crowd was mostly female.  The only males were Dr. Lee and a sprinkling of retirees.  

Hand-in-hand, they started down the aisle towards the altar.  The effect was almost like a silent wedding march.  But this was no wedding!  Earl was about to receive his first spanking since his teens, and do so in public!  She could feel her man tremble, his breath came in gasps. 

One of the most difficult things about an Intervention Gathering is that it must be lead by the person being punished.  Nervously standing before the congregation, Earl spoke haltingly.  With Sandy standing next to him, he started by leading a prayer.  That done, he launched into a detailed listing of his sins along with a sincere apology to Sandy, to the congregation, and to his God.  Finally his talk drifted to an awkward halt.  Pausing, he drew a deep shuddering breath and asked “Are there any questions?”       

There were none.

 He drew another deep breath.  Sandy could have sworn that she could hear his heart beating in his chest.  “In that case, I will ask my wife to please prepare my bottom for your intervention.  Sister March may choose to add further preparation.  After that, I hope each of you will apply the paddle, and do so without mercy.  I am here because I fully deserve your intervention.  My wonderful wife has already forgiven me.  After your intervention, I pray that you will find it in your hearts to follow her example and to accept me back into the church family.”

“Sandy,” he asked, “will you please prepare me now?” 

At that, Earl unbuttoned his white terry bathrobe, and removed it.  Standing nude in front of the congregation, he folded the gown and laid it on the altar.  Sandy peeked  down just below Earl’s waist and was relieved to see no embarrassing protuberance.  Her “treatment” remained effective.

There was a chair waiting.  Earl put himself over its back, his bare bottom facing the parishioners.  A strategically aimed spotlight lit up his white buttocks.  Incidentally, the light illuminated a rear view of his male equipment, causing a few of the females to titter quietly, nudge, and look significantly at each other.  Well endowed, Earl hung amazingly low.  Having never seen another man to compare, Sandy was clueless about her good luck.

Sandy moved to Earl’s left and, to the best of her ability, started belaboring his bottom with hand spanks.  Her face showed determination, but she wasn’t a strong person and had never spanked before.  After two minutes of effort she was breathless, but had managed to barely color her husband’s bottom.  He braved this first part of his punishment with only a slight wriggle.  Clearly, it was time for Sister March to take over.

And take over she did!  She thanked Sandy for her efforts, before taking her place and pulling her paddle from a large pocket.  She motioned the congregation to line up against one wall, and then turned her attention to Earl’s bottom.  Using fast but medium-force spanks, she thoroughly reddened Earl’s bottom and thighs.  Long before she was done, poor Earl was howling and energetically dancing in place, imparting an interesting motion to his bottom and dangling parts.  Watching from a seat, Pastor Lee pursed his lips in sympathy for Earl.

By the time she was finished, Earl was loudly sobbing.  Without being asked, Sandy had moved to his front to hold his shoulders down.  

Earl was ready for the main event.    

Sister March turned to the congregation and gave her stock instructions.  “You each get one swat.  Make it hard, like this...”  She gave him a full-strength swat to the right buttock.  Earl jumped and screamed while Sandy held on for dear life.  “Don’t all hit in the same spot,” she continued, “Get his thighs also.  The thighs are tender, so that’s a good area for you folks with less strength.”

“Remember,” she said before handing the paddle to the first person in line, “We have a job to do!  This isn’t the moment for sympathy or compassion.  That, along with our forgiveness, he gets after we have given him the  memorable intervention he desperately  needs.  Make each swat count!”

The next few minutes were hell for Earl.  Each person in line accepted the paddle, took careful aim, and gave Earl’s bottom one mighty whack.  It wasn’t a large paddle, but 36 heartfelt swats can do a lot of damage to an already-red bottom.   Because there were so many spankers, the force, timing, and location of each swat was a very individual thing.  Therefore, Earl’s reaction to each swat varied considerably.  Sometimes he screeched, sometimes he merely bawled.  Twice he nearly broke away from Sandy’s hold, and Sister March had to assist. 

Finally it was over.  The last person raised the paddle high and brought it home with a magnificent “splat” to his beet-red and mottled bottom.  Earl shrieked one last time.  Sandy comforted her husband and then helped him with his robe while Sister March reminded the congregation that now was the time for “unconditional forgiveness”.  She was about to invite everyone to the front to express their forgiveness when Sandy touched her arm,  “Can I please speak first?”

Surprised, Sister March agreed, so Sandy spoke to the group, “Adultery is always wrong, so you were correct to chastise my husband.  Now I hope you will all forgive and forget so you can discover what a wonderful person he really is.”

She took a deep quivering breath, and then continued, “Just because my husband is guilty doesn’t make me totally innocent.  I haven’t been a good wife to Earl.  Perhaps you think I should be excused because of my upbringing or because of some mental issue, but I should have faced this problem years ago.  Therefore I will ask Earl to ‘take me in hand’, and punish me for that failure.  So in private, and after he has recovered from today I hope he will sp-sp-spank me, then surely the two of us can move on from there.”

His throbbing bottom forgotten, Earl stared at his wife in mute astonishment.  Suddenly he was gobsmacked by his luck.  His wife had always been beautiful, and now finally was learning to be sensuous, but today she suddenly showed a submissive streak.  He couldn’t wait to get her home! 

She paused again, tears in her eyes, before finishing her thought, “And perhaps I could have been more forthcoming with Pastor Lee in my Contrition Appointments.  I was always afraid that the topic of my sex life with Earl would come up, so I avoided it at all costs.  If Dr. Lee feels I’ve been dishonest, then he may decide on a reckoning.    If so, I will present my bottom for whatever consequence he decides on.”

Still seated, Pastor Lee nodded thoughtfully.

After a quick benediction, the congregation pressed to the front to express their forgiveness and to welcome Earl back into their good graces.

The Contrition Protocol had saved another marriage.


Now that the Contrition Protocol had healed yet another marriage in the young Pastor’s rapidly growing congregation, he had more time to daydream about those two young ladies.  The church’s rules were clear.  Today they were officially children and thus untouchable by any adult, but their coming confirmation would magically make them adults in the eyes of the church. 

The congregation was abuzz.  They understood well that the girls were about to become “fair game” for their young unmarried Pastor.   The word was that those young ladies were not only willing, but were likely to compete for his attention.  Were wedding bells finally in Pastor Lee’s future?

© Guyspencer 2013

Thou Shalt Not...

© Guyspencer 2013

                                                            Thou Shalt Not...

It was 1965 and it had been a long hot summer in Westland Texas.  Jane had hoped for employment, but summer jobs were scarce.  Therefore, it had been a boring summer and Jane had little spending money.  In a few weeks, she would start her last year of high school.  With little else to do, Jane enjoyed walking downtown to window shop.  The little town’s few storekeepers knew her and welcomed her.  Perhaps it was boredom that got her into trouble? 


Sixteen year-old Jane had never felt such guilt.  Returning the shoplifted bracelet had been a start down her road to redemption, but it would take more than that before she could forgive herself.  In her young life she had learned only one way do deal with this type of guilt, through her bare bottom.  To dissolve it would take a cleansing fire, a scorching sting applied to her bare rear until she was screeching, wailing and writhing with contrition.

Always before, punishment had happened automatically and passively because her parents always learned when she misbehaved, and always “took her in hand”.  But today was different.  Today her parents sat downstairs clueless.  

Poor Jane was caught in the cusp between two huge unthinkable acts.  One act, that theft, was irrevocably done.  The next act, facing her parents, was inevitable. The question was when and how would it happen?

She had committed her theft two days ago, a bracelet from Atkins Jewelry Shop.  Jane was a good girl, a girl with a solid “moral compass”, brought up in a conservative small town, in a strict church, by strict and loving parents.  Jane was a girl who lived by her “thou shalt nots”.  So it’s odd that she had given in to temptation.  But it’s no surprise that she was tormented by guilt for her shameful behavior.  That guilt had eaten on her until she had returned the item and tearfully confessed to the storekeeper. 

Yes, she knew the Ten Commandments by heart. And yes, she knew that the eighth commandment was “Thou shalt not steal.”  Further, she knew her parent’s standard punishment for any violation of the Ten Commandments: The hairbrush, on the bare bottom, witnessed by her family.

Now, she must do that other unprecedented and unthinkable act; she must go downstairs and confess her sin to her parents.  That would surely result in her punishment.     

When should she do it?  She stewed, she dithered.  Now, early evening, would be a good time, or she could wait until just before bedtime.  But what if she did neither?

She realized later that Mr. Atkins had just been trying to help.  Probably he would have just accepted the bracelet and let her off with a lecture.  But it was Jane who had insisted that she must tell her parents.  She must “make things right” with them, even though doubtless she would be punished.  Naturally, she didn’t give Mr. Atkins the details about her expected punishment!

When the man saw the torment in Jane’s eyes, he had decided to make the decision easy for her.  “Confess to your parents tonight without fail, because I will call them tomorrow to ensure you did.”    

So the die was cast.  If Jane didn’t confess tonight, things would only get worse for her tomorrow.  Still, Jane was terribly afraid that she would “chicken out.” She was afraid she would walk downstairs, see her parents, and fold.  Then, rather than confess, she might choke out something about (perhaps) the weather.   Then her life would be hell until Mr. Atkins’s phone call brought her world crashing down around her.

No!  She must confess tonight!  So Jane made a plan.  She would burn her bridges behind her, give herself no choice except to confront her parents and confess.  She started simply enough, by doing something so uncharacteristic that would make her mother ask why.  The start was simple, she simply stripped and took her evening shower early.  Normally she showered at bedtime, but today it was barely dark.  At minimum her mother would inquire why, and then mother would see the trouble in her eyes.

Jane lingered in the shower, telling herself that she needed to do an extra good job because she wouldn’t feel like taking another later.  Actually, she was delaying.  Finally, she turned off the water and dried off her slim body.

The shower over, Jane had burned one tiny bridge behind her.  That wasn’t so bad!  Now she just had to continue with the plan.

So with that step taken, Jane proceeded to burn a much larger bridge.

Jane had a special nightgown.  She kept it out of sight in the bottom drawer of her dresser.  It was a loose, airy, soft and comfortable garment that ended just above her knees.  It was a  garment that anybody should love, but Jane hated it.  She hated it because it was her punishment outfit, used because it kept her bottom modestly covered, yet convenient to spank.  Jane’s two brothers had nightshirts for the same purpose, and hated them for the same reason.

Normally Jane only donned that gown when her parents sent her to prepare for a spanking.  But today, wearing it was her idea.  Her eyes unfocused as she opened up that drawer.  She hoped that miraculously it would  be gone.  But no!  With a shudder, she unfolded the garment, pulled it over her head, and let it fall lightly over her developing body.

As soon as any family member saw her in that gown, there would be no turning back.  She would be forced to explain herself, and there was only one explanation.

Her heart pumping madly, Jane stood just inside her bedroom door.  She tried the doorknob, but her hands were too sweaty to turn it.  Finally it clicked and the door swung open.  She was sure that she would instantly be seen, but nobody was there.  She started for the living room and her parents.  Halfway there, she abruptly turned and scurried back to the safety of her bedroom.  There, she castigated herself for being a “wimp”.  Squaring her shoulders, she tried again.  This time she added one detail, she picked up the hairbrush from her dresser.  

Downstairs, she stood in the doorway of the living room.  Her parents sat watching the evening news but she was in their line of sight.  Finally mother noticed her middle child standing there.  (Mother can be forgiven for being slow on the uptake, none of her three children had ever volunteered for a spanking before.)  She immediately noted that Jane looked unhappy, and something was different, something important.  It finally dawned on her that Jane was wearing her punishment gown.

“That’s it,” Jane thought with mad butterflies capering in her stomach, “She’s noticed.  There’s no going back now.” 

“Gerald?”  She asked her husband, “Jane isn’t in trouble is she?”

“Not that I know of” Gerald replied.  Gerald looked at his daughter.  He noted the punishment gown, the hairbrush, the tears.  Yep!  That’s trouble!  He just didn’t know the specifics yet.  Eyes fixed on his daughter, he doused the television.     

In a kind voice he asked, “What’s going on honey?”

“Dad, mom,” she sobbed, “We need to talk.”

They listened, carefully and patiently.  They asked questions.  They weren’t screamers and there weren’t even any recriminations.  At least, none yet!  Sadly, Jane watched her father’s face darken when he had finally absorbed the full story. 

Mother chimed in, “So you weren’t caught?  You willingly confessed to Mr. Atkins and now you are willingly confessing to us?

“Close, but not exactly,” Jane admitted.  “Yes, I wasn’t caught.  I returned the bracelet because I couldn’t live with myself.  But Mr. Atkins said he will call you tomorrow.  So that sort of forced me to confess to you first.”

“And if Mr. Atkins hadn’t said that?” She asked with raised brows.

Jane replied with fresh tears. “I honestly don’t know mom.  I told Mr. Atkins that I wanted to tell you, but it’s hard.  Probably eventually...”

Gerald was a man who honestly hated to spank his children, yet it was a responsibility that he took very seriously when required.  He delivered a verdict, “It appears you have indeed earned a ‘commandment’ spanking.  Since you’ve brought your hairbrush, you apparently know the rules.  However, we need time to think, and time to talk to Mr. Atkins.  So no spanking until we have the facts straight.  We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

Jane was horrified at the prospect of waiting a whole day, and found herself in the strange position of begging for a spanking; “No Daddy, please!  Waiting would be torture.  I’ve told you the whole truth.  Honest!”

Mother came to the rescue, “Gerald, you’re correct.  We need the facts, and we must reflect and discuss this first.  But why wait?  Let’s call Mr. Atkins now.”

Jane nervously waited on the couch while her parents conferred privately in their bedroom.  Sam, Jane’s 19-year-old brother, a freshman at the local college, arrived home from a late class.  Seeing his sister’s glum look and correctly grasping the significance of her outfit and the hairbrush, he asked, “What’s up Sis?” 

She sobbed, “I did something really bad Sam, I shoplifted a bracelet at Atkins Jewelry Store.” 

He whistled, and then sat down beside her, a comforting arm around her shoulder.  He wanted to yell, “What were you thinking!” But instead tried a milder question, “So you got caught?”   

“No.” She shivered and then snuggled a bit, glad for her big brother’s comfort.  “I couldn’t stand the guilt, so I returned it.”

“So now you’re gonna get a ‘commandment’ spanking?”  Sam spoke with true concern and empathy in his voice.  Because he was still living at home and being supported by his parents, he was subject to the same rules as Jane.  Only months ago he had received his own “commandment” spanking.  He and his girlfriend had been caught au naturel in his bedroom.  Being conservative folk, their parents had a broad definition of the word “adultery”.  So Sam paid for violating the seventh commandment.  Clad only in his hated nightshirt, poor Sam had howled and bawled his way through an impressive bare-bottom hairbrush spanking as his siblings watched and hopefully learned.

Rumor was that Sam’s girlfriend received much the same treatment from her own parents.

Memories of Sam’s spanking multiplied the butterflies in Jane’s belly.  Finally, almost reluctantly, she answered her big brother’s question.  “I’m definitely getting it, but perhaps not tonight.  I’m petrified, but I hope they don’t make me wait!” 

In the comforting presence of her big brother, Jane told him everything.  Talking helped.

It was a full 30 minutes before her parents returned.  Not sure that he should be talking to Jane just now, Sam edged away. Seeing Sam, Gerald said, “Oh good, you’re home.  I was afraid we would have to wait for you.  Your sister is about to be spanked.”

On finally hearing her sentence, Jane found herself shaking. 

“Jane,” Gerald explained, “We found Mr. Atkins in the phonebook.  He backs up all you said.  Your mother and I have calmed down now, so there’s no reason to delay your spanking.”

Not sure what she was supposed to say, Jane just gawked stupidly.

It was mother who dropped the bombshell, “Mr. Atkins is a forgiving fellow.  He even tried to talk us out of spanking you.”

Jane was incredulous, “You told him?  Oh noooo!”   

She had a sudden, sickening thought, “You didn’t tell him...”

“That you are about to be spanked on your bare bottom? ...with a hairbrush?” Mother said helpfully.  “Yes Honey we did, we did it for you.  We wanted him to know that we take this very seriously and we especially want him to understand that you will never steal again and that you are a wonderful, trustworthy person.  Don’t worry!  He hasn’t told anyone about your theft, and he won’t blab about your spanking.”

Gerald turned the conversation around to business, “Go upstairs, find your little brother, and send him down here.” 

Mother chimed in, “Visit the bathroom and squeeze out whatever you can.  Save yourself a bit of embarrassment by taking off your panties privately.  Don’t delay!”

At the mention of these intimate details, Jane’s face blushed as red as the future hue of her bottom.  She was already bare under her gown, but there was no need to argue.

So she simply answered,  “Yes ma’am.”  And fled the room.

She found 13-year-old Frank in his room.  It was hard to find the words to tell him he should go downstairs to witness her bare bottom disgrace.  She finally croaked it out. 

With fresh tears in her eyes, she made the required bathroom trip.

Downstairs, the parents had arranged the scene carefully.  The curtains were closed.  For their own good, the boys needed to witness Jane’s punishment, but that didn’t mean that they needed an eyeful of Jane’s most intimate anatomy.  Jane was unlikely to control her legs while being spanked.  That kicking and splaying would reveal far more of Jane to the boy’s eyes than the parents wished.   So Gerald pointed the boys to the couch and positioned an armless chair so Jane’s bottom would be pointing away from them.  He sat down and tucked the hairbrush behind him.  Mother stood supportively next to her husband, ready to help restrain Jane.   

Gerald always insisted that he treated all of his children equally.  But he had a soft spot for his daughter, and his wife knew it well.  So they had talked and had agreed on the specifics of Jane’s coming punishment.  He hated this job, but had reluctantly agreed to “do it well”.

On wobbly legs, Jane entered the room and surveyed the grim tableau.  Automatically, she walked to her father.  She welcomed his hug, sinking gratefully into his arms and burying her wet face against his chest.  For several moments the room remained dead quiet except for Jane’s sniffles.

Finally Mother broke the silence with a short recap on why Jane was about to be punished, and then finished with, “This will be a ‘commandant’ punishment, which is why you are all here to witness.  Jane, tell us what commandment you violated.”

Father released the hug and held her at arms length so she could answer.  She sobbed it, “The eighth; thou shalt not steal.” 

Gerald took over, “Jane, we’re horrified that you gave in to temptation and stole something.  But still, we’re proud that you knew you had done wrong and decided to confess.  We are especially proud that you confessed even knowing the consequence you would face.”

Jane smiled shyly at the unexpected praise and nodded, displacing tears from her face.  One tear landed on the floor, the other on her father’s knee.

“Normally in a case like this we would keep you on restriction after your spanking until you were ready to be trusted again.  But you’ve demonstrated trust by confessing, so restriction won’t be necessary.  Understand?”

“Yes Sir.  Thank you mommy and dad.”

“Don’t thank me too much young lady!  The next few minutes will be difficult for everyone in the room, especially for you.”

“Y...yes sir.”

“How many times have I spanked you with this hairbrush Jane?”

“T...twice sir.” 

“Both of them were ‘commandment spankings’ right?”

“Yes sir, for lying.”

“Well you’re older now and should be more responsible.  Also, shoplifting is a crime, you could have ended up in court or even jail.  Therefore, today’s spanking will be much harder than those other two.  You won’t be on restriction, but your bottom will hurt for several days.”   

There was a long moment of silence as the father delayed the inevitable.  In a voice gruff with emotion he finally choked, “I love you sweetheart.  I honestly hate to do this to you.”

‘I know daddy, it’s OK.”

His hands went to the hem of her gown.  First he gathered all the excess material behind her.  She felt it tighten against her belly.  Then, taking care to not expose her, he tugged the hem up to mid-thigh.  “Over you get” he said as he guided her into place.   It was a practiced maneuver, calculated to facilitate exposing her entire rear while preserving her frontal modesty.  The boys owned punishment nightshirts for the same reason, and received the same consideration for their modesty.

Even though she had recently emptied her bladder, Jane had a sudden fear of piddling in her father’s lap.  Later she guessed that it was a combination of nerves and pressure against her bladder.  That momentary sensation was perhaps a blessing, because it distracted her mind from the humiliation of her unveiling.

Gerald raised the tail of her gown high, gathering the excess material just below the back of her neck.  Jane’s rear was bared from her shoulder blades down.  Aware of her exposure, she looked down, as if hiding her face made her less bare.  White-knuckled, she grabbed the chair legs. 

From his vantage point, which had been carefully selected with an eye toward’s Jane’s modesty, Sam had a view of the top of Jane’s head, the bunched cloth held firmly between her shoulder blades by father’s hand, the small of her back, and (most noticeably) two feminine mounds separated by a deep valley.

To Sam, Jane was a kid sister and so not a “girl” in the normal sense.  Therefore, he felt privately guilty to find himself reacting to the sight of her maturing bottom.  His blood pressure must have been elevated, because he could actually hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Frank was still slightly miffed at his older sister from a recent minor dispute.  He wasn’t delighted to see her in this position, but was at least ambivalent.  Mostly, he was glad it was her bottom on display this time and not his.
Jane looked up at her brothers.  In a lame attempt at bravado she gave them a forced grin, but all they saw was a scared little girl’s grimace.       

Looking down at her grip on the chair legs, Gerald spoke in a deceptively kindly voice, “That’s right Honey, hang on tight.  This is supposed to hurt, but the less you fight it the quicker it will be over.  Now say that commandment nice and loud.”

Addressing the space under the chair so she wouldn’t have to show her face, Jane recited, “Thou shalt not steal.” 

As she spoke, Gerald reached behind him and retrieved the brush.

For those few spankings where he used the hairbrush, Gerald’s normal technique was to start with a lengthy and thorough hand spanking of gradually increasing intensity.  Only then would he switch to the hairbrush for a vigorous and memorable, but relatively brief, finale. 

But today he had a painful surprise planned for his cherished daughter. 

Without warning he raised the brush high and then slammed it down into the fleshiest part of her right buttock.  Jane’s mind couldn’t process the unexpected sound.  But when the signals from a million outraged nerve endings reached her brain, Jane threw back her head and screamed.  Never before had she felt the astonishing power of a hairbrush on her unprepared bottom.

He paused, allowing her to get the full benefit of each stroke before adding another one.  Over the next two minutes, he gave her just three more of those devastating swats.  He placed one full-force swat on the top of each buttcheek, and one milder but still incredibly effective swat to each sit spot.  As the parents had expected, Jane took them badly.  After that third swat, Jane curled her legs up to protect her thighs.  Gently but firmly and without scolding, mother grabbed her ankles and held them down.

Gerald waited patiently while Jane, expecting more such blows, bawled loudly.

The boys watched soberly, sorry for their sister but knowing that Jane had earned her punishment.  Their parents never punished unfairly or over-severely, and so they trusted that they were doing the right thing.  They had watched open-mouthed as the hairbrush had flattened each buttock.  Each jiggled back into its proper shape, but with the addition of an angry red mark right in the center.  They could see Jane’s anguished reaction to those “sit spot” swats, but not the actual impact because the undercurve of her bottom was beyond their line-of-sight.     

Finally Jane seemed to register the pause.  Her bawling decayed to mere sobs and sniffles.

“For now,” Gerald announced, “that’s enough with the hairbrush.  Before we start again, let’s see if you still remember that commandment.”

He had to prompt her twice, but finally she squeaked out, “Thou shalt not steal.”

“Good,” Gerald said, “Now we will start your hand spanking.  That won’t be so hard, so mom will release your legs.  It’s OK to kick some, but don’t curl them up or we’ll have to restrain them again.  OK?”

Fearfully, Jane nodded her understanding.

Later, it would be the hairbrush that Jane would remember, but the hand spanking was actually the main part of her punishment.  Gerald never rushed that part, nor spanked severely.  He started with mild spanks that usually stung just enough to make the recipient wriggle uncomfortably as their bottom changed shades.  But Jane had already “lost her cool” and her bottom was already sore from those nasty brush strokes, so she cried loudly and struggled from the start.

From there, things only got worse for poor Jane as her father gradually increased the force of his spanks.

Sam and Frank watched their sister’s punishment as it slowly escalated in intensity.  They could clearly see her mounds roil, quiver, bounce and redden from their father’s slaps.  Jane twisted and kicked, adding whole new dimensions of motion to her bottom.  His spanks weren’t just to her bottom either.  When her legs kicked up into sight, they could see red splotches on her thighs.

Jane begged, sobbed, squealed and even bellowed as Gerald’s ministrations became more and more vigorous.  She didn’t remember reaching back, but was vaguely aware that her right hand had become trapped behind her, tight in her father’s grip. 

Gerald took his time, spanking with almost clinical precision.  He blanched a bit when her legs splayed, displaying anatomy he wasn’t comfortable seeing, but he doggedly continued his task until every square inch of her bottom was an even bright red and the girl showed signs of exhaustion. 

Finally Gerald paused and looked at his wife questioningly.  She frowned and inspected Jane’s bottom before nodding her approval.

No longer expecting a coherent response from Jane, Gerald looked at the boys.  “You boys are here to share Jane’s lesson.  I don’t ever want to give another spanking for theft.  Understand?”

Both boys readily agreed. 

“Also,” Gerald continued.  “You won’t mention this outside the house and you won’t tease your sister.  In fact, she needs your support. Don’t do anything to make it worse for her.”     

Both boys nodded earnestly.

By now, Jane had quieted a bit, so he turned his attention to her. “OK, we’re mostly done Jane, but I’m afraid the hard part is next.

While that news sank in, Gerald reached behind him to retrieve the brush.

Jane started begging, piteously and frantically.   “Noooo dadeee!  I learned my lesson already, Pleeassseeee!”

Gerald truly hated what he was about to do.  Mother restrained Jane’s legs as Gerald raised the hairbrush high.  His face a mask of sadness and determination, he went to work.

Soon Jane was screeching and bouncing to the rhythm of that busy hairbrush.  As usual, Gerald didn’t prolong this part.  He spanked her just enough to leave her bottom sore for a few days, and to instill a lifetime lesson.

And then it was over.

He flipped down the back of her gown, fully restoring her modesty.  He spoke gently and massaged her back until it seemed safe to allow her up for the inevitable spank-dance-rub.

The boys each hugged her, and then graciously disappeared, leaving the still distraught girl to the gentle ministrations of her loving parents.


With her punishment behind her, Jane slept well for the first time in several days.  Twice she woke up after she had rolled over and put pressure on her bottom, but she resumed sleep quickly.

She wasn’t on restriction, but still stayed home that day to recover from her ordeal.

About mid-morning the phone rang.  Mother answered it, and talked for a long time in a low voice.  After that she seemed a bit mysterious and unusually busy.  Taking a cut of meat from the freezer, she worked in the kitchen.  Eventually, wonderful smells informed Jane that her mother was preparing pot roast.   In this family, pot roast almost always meant that some honored guest was expected, often their Pastor and his wife.

Twice Jane asked who was coming, but each time her question was somehow deflected.  Giving up, Jane helped set the table.  That way, she learned that they were expecting only a single guest.

Father arrived home from work, and went off to shower before supper.  A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.  Mother called from the kitchen for Jane to answer it.  She opened the door and found herself red-faced and speechless.  It was Mr. Atkins!

It was an awkward moment for both of them, but finally Jane recovered enough to invite him in.  He looked at her with real concern on his face, “Can you forgive me Jane?”

She looked at him in honest confusion, “Forgive you for what?  You are the one who should be mad at me!”

“But I got you spanked,” he blurted, “I didn’t mean to do that.  You returned the bracelet.  That would have been good enough for me.”

“But it wouldn’t have been good enough for me,” Jane explained.  “I needed to make things right, even though it cost me the spanking.  You didn’t know that I would get spanked because I purposely didn’t tell you, so please don’t feel bad.”

He looked thoughtful, “I was hoping that’s what you would say.  There’s something I need to talk to you about.  Would after supper be OK?”

Jane had no idea why Mr. Atkins was there, nor what he wanted to talk about.  Did he think she still needed more punishment?

Supper was a tense affair for Jane.  She tried not to squirm, but her bottom still hurt.  Every time she squirmed, she could feel Mr. Atkins’ eyes on her.  She could have sat on a pillow, but she wasn’t going to do that in front of guests!    

After desert and small talk over coffee, Jane found herself alone with Mr. Atkins. 

She sat down a bit too hard, and Mr. Atkins noticed her wince.  He started to apologize again, but Jane politely stopped him, “Sir, can we please not talk about my spanking? 

He blushed.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve never been married, so I’ve never had a daughter.  This is all new to me...and a bit uncomfortable”

“Yes, I guess it’s uncomfortable for both of us,” Jane agreed.  “But I want you to know that I will never steal anything again, ever!  You can count on that, and I’m so sorry and so embarrassed at what I did.”

“That’s what your parents said last night before your...err...consequence...  Now that I’ve met you in your home, I can see that it’s true.  So that’s why we should talk.”

After a pause, he continued.  “You start your senior year soon.  Your parents say it’s OK for you to have a part time job as long as you keep your grades up.  Are you interested?”

Jane looked at him in wonder, “You want me?”

“Yes, because I need someone I can trust.  Eventually, it might even turn into a full time job.”

For the second time in 24 hours, Jane’s eyes filled with tears.

Naturally Jane accepted the job.  She fit in well from the start.  It would be a few years before she could even dream it possible, but eventually Jane became the manager, and later the proprietress of the Atkins Jewelry Store.

Just ask Jane, she will tell you; “Honesty might hurt your end, but in the end it always pays”.

© Guyspencer 2013