The Girl’s Coming-Of-Age Ceremony

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© Guyspencer 2014

                                         The Girl’s Coming-Of-Age Ceremony


Immediately after the regular Sunday morning church service, the entire congregation of Faith Temple filed downstairs to the fellowship hall for a social and a potluck dinner.  Lots of churches occasionally have similar social affairs, so a visitor wouldn’t immediately notice anything odd.   Nothing odd that is, except for those three young ladies who are dressed in the white robes. 

Our imaginary visitor would quickly notice the congregation paying special attention to these girls.  Eventually, our visitor will surmise that the gathering is in their honor.  The girls are hugged, they get kissed on the cheek, they get congratulated and complimented, and they get offered unwanted advice from the older congregation members as the meal continues.  The girls look happy, but happy in a nervous, giddy, embarrassed, blushing-bride sort of way. 

If our visitor were to look at any of the young ladies directly, she would be liable to blush and turn away.  Our visitor has no way of knowing that the girls are embarrassed because they aren’t wearing panties under their robes, ...or anything else!

Potluck dinners are a wonderful invention.  It goes without saying that everybody enjoyed the meal, except that our visitor might notice that the girls in the white robes barely touched their food. 

By now, having received sufficient vibes that this is no normal church social, our intrepid yet fictional visitor will have his mental antennas fully extended.  Unfortunately, he won’t be allowed to satisfy his growing curiosity.  Once the dinner is over, he and any other non-members, will be politely invited to leave.

Our visitor has no way of knowing that the long-established tradition behind today’s ceremony is based on one simple unchallenged notion, the idea that a person should enter adulthood the same way he or she entered the world, naked and crying!   

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The girl’s robes are of opaque material.  They are intended to hide the girl’s flowering curves, but don’t always manage to do so.  They open down the front, but are securely closed by many buttons.  Some robes are bright and new; other robes, generations-old family heirlooms, are slightly yellowed.  That’s because some families cling to a charming tradition of using the same robe time and again as a special connection between generations. 

Faith Temple has one of these “coming-of-age” ceremonies once every three months to mark the passage of the congregation’s eligible offspring from childhood to adulthood.  The celebrations alternate.  Three months ago there was a similar celebration for boys, but today’s celebration is only for girls.  When the boys have their own coming-of-age service, they wear a similar robe.    


For these church potluck affairs the ladies try to outdo each other, each vying to bring the most delicious, the most talked-abut dish to the celebration.  The deserts are especially amazing.  When it’s over, there will be enough excess food to feed an army.  Later, the church ladies will serve it at the county old-age home, where the residents and even the staff will attack it like locusts.    

Finally, after everybody is stuffed and all have had their chance to greet the girls and offer their congratulations, the Pastor stood and tapped his spoon on a glass for attention, “My thanks and congratulations to the ladies for this wonderful feast.  We don’t want to keep these beautiful young ladies waiting, so let’s go upstairs for their coming-of-age ceremony.”

Then he politely dismissed the few non-member visitors who happened to be there.

Everybody left the fellowship hall, except for those three girls and one matronly lady who was left in charge of them.

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Upstairs, the members found that preparations had been completed in their absence.  The Pastor’s lectern had been moved aside, and everything cleared from the platform except for one solid armless chair.  The shades had been drawn for privacy.  The light was dim in the sanctuary, save for spotlights that lit the area around the chair.

All of the children gathered in the rear of the sanctuary, where they sat on the floor.  They would be allowed to watch only from that remote vantage.  Two mothers had been detailed to supervise them.

The rear rows of pews were filled with the congregation’s teens and pre-teens.  They would all be ardent observers.  Their interest came from obvious reasons, but also because they each would someday get their own chance to wear a white robe in front of the congregation.  Each of them dreamed of the day they too would become adults in the eyes of the church, yet dreaded the painful and embarrassing “coming-of-age” ceremony that makes that happen.

The girl’s immediate families sat in the front row of pews, with the adult members of the congregation filling the many rows of pews between them and the teenagers.  By unspoken agreement, unmarried men sat near the rear of that group to minimize the girl’s embarrassment.

Four dignified ushers started at the front of the church.  With one on each window aisle, and two in the center aisle, they slowly walked towards the rear of the sanctuary as they scanned every face in the audience to see that everybody belonged, and that everybody was sitting in their proper place.  Then they carefully checked that the foyer area was empty before securely locking the front doors to the church.  Finally two of them walked downstairs to see that all is secure, and to signal Sister Stewart to bring the first girl.

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Today those three girls will officially become adults.  They have been nervously waiting downstairs with Sister Stewart, the congregation’s unofficial matriarch.  Each girl had either recently turned 18, or was only weeks from her 18th birthday.  Each had been prepared over the last several months by attending a special “confirmation” Sunday school class which is taught by Pastor Chronister himself.

Nerves had an understandable effect on the girls.  All of them had to visit the lady’s room.  Two of them went to pee, but the other girl had to throw up! 

All about the same age, the girls were rather diverse in body type.  Nancy was a classic dark-haired beauty, tall, slim, regal and with a perfect face.  Susan was shorter and blond-haired, but best described as voluptuous and curvy.  Betty was red-haired and somewhat overweight, but was an otherwise beautiful girl with a delightful bubbly personality.

Earlier, Sister Stewart had asked the girls if they wanted to decide the order of their “inductions” themselves, or if they would like to draw lots.  The three girls conferred, managing to decide the issue among themselves with surprising ease.  It seemed that Susan desperately wanted to go first to “get it over with”, yet Nancy wanted to put off the inevitable as long as possible.  So that left Betty in the middle.

Leaving one of the ushers in charge of the other two girls, Sister Stewart took Susan by the arm and escorted her up the stairs to the foyer.  Peeking into the sanctuary, they saw the entire congregation on their feet, all watching for their appearance.  Sister Jones was the piano player that day.  When she saw them, she quickly sat down to play a slow march.  Sister Stewart and Susan slowly walked up the aisle.  The effect was much like a wedding march, but not so formal.  Their walk was unhurried.  As Susan passed the teens at the rear of the church, many managed to momentarily clasp her hand or pat her on the back encouragingly.  As she passed the adults, some aunts, uncles, and friends stepped into the aisle to offer a quick hug or a peck on the cheek. 

Finally they reached the head of the aisle, where Susan’s parents waited.  When Susan saw the tears in her mother’s eyes, she broke down too.  The music stopped and the congregation sat down to respect this poignant moment, played out in front of the entire church family.  Leaving Susan with her parents, Sister Stewart returned downstairs to her remaining two charges.

By now tearful himself, Susan’s father gave her one last squeeze and then sat down.  Susan’s mother took her by the hand.  The music played for a few bars as the mother led her daughter up the few stairs to the platform, and then to the waiting Pastor.  Then she stepped back several paces, leaving Susan and the Pastor standing together under the lights, and in front of the waiting chair.

Taking Susan’s hand but addressing the entire congregation, Pastor Chronister explained the purpose of the ceremony; as if the congregation didn’t already know!  “Before any of us joined our God-given natural family, we first had to go face the birth ordeal.  We entered the world naked and likely crying.  We can’t remember it happening, but the experience was probably as frightening and painful as it was momentous. Being reborn as an adult and being accepted into the church family is also a momentous event.  So we mark that important moment with this ‘coming-of-age’ ceremony.  Each inductee will arrive before you as a child, and then will be symbolically reborn as an adult and as a respected and cherished full member of our congregation.  Just as on the day of their first birth, they will arrive into their new status naked and with real tears in their eyes.”

He turned to Susan, “Susan, you needn’t feel overly embarrassed about appearing naked before your church family.  Modesty normally prevails here in church just as it does in your home, but we are all family here!  So an occasional glimpse of somebody’s God-given body is no sin and no disgrace.  Also the spanking you are about to receive has a purpose beyond its ‘rebirth’ symbolism.  It deals with all of the unpunished deeds and sins from your childhood and allows you to enter adulthood with a clean slate.”

Nervously, Susan nodded her understanding.

Then the Pastor wrapped an arm around Susan’s shoulder and began to talk to the congregation about her.  He shared a couple funny/embarrassing stories about her childhood, and then went on to talk about her accomplishments, her plans for her life, and her positive personality traits.  As he went on, Susan found herself relaxing.

Finally he asked in a formal voice, “Susan, do you wish to join the church family here at Faith Temple?”

In a shaky voice, Susan replied “Yes Sir, I do”.

He addressed the congregation, “Are you all willing to accept Susan as a member?”

The entire congregation responded, “YES!”

Then to Susan he said, “Then you may prepare yourself.”

Susan fumbled at the buttons of her robe.  Her mother stepped from the side, and started undoing her lower buttons as Susan started at the top and worked her way down.  Susan was slow, so they met somewhere above Susan’s navel.  Reluctantly, Susan shrugged off the robe and handed it to her mother.  Mother folded it over her arm and stepped back, leaving her daughter standing naked under the floodlights.

In the teen’s pews, virtually every boy found reason to lay something on his lap.  Not fooled, the girls smirked at each other.  On the floor behind the teens, the children had become totally quiet, awed by the unusual spectacle. The few unattached men could all be found open-mouthed with their hymnals or Sunday school literature strategically placed.  Even among the older married men, squirming and covered laps could be found.  The men’s wives looked at them sideways, but secretly expected to later reap certain carnal rewards from their husband’s stimulation.  

At Faith Temple, it wasn’t unusual for the maturing offspring of the members to date and to eventually marry.  Therefore, it was very possible that among that group of unmarried men, or among the older teens, Susan’s future husband was seeing her naked for the very first time!

As he waited for Susan to remove her robe, Pastor Chronister sat in his chair to watch the girl’s unveiling.  His first glimpse of the undraped girl confirmed what he had already known, Susan was a beautiful young lady!  Susan was large-bosomed, but her uncovered breasts stoutly defied gravity.  Although curvy in all of the correct places, Susan’s belly was relatively flat, and decorated right in the middle by a shallow bellybutton.  This led his eyes down to her lowest tresses, which he noted had been neatly trimmed.  Apparently the young lady liked to wear bikinis.         

Wrapped in a protective mental fog, this all seemed like a dream to Susan.  She just kept repeating to herself, “This isn’t really happening. This isn’t really happening”.  Objectively, she knew that everybody before her had survived the experience, so she would too.  She just had to get through it!

At a gesture from the Pastor, Susan obediently put herself across his lap.  As usual, he had turned the chair so that her bottom was pointed directly at the congregation.  Under the floodlights, Susan’s perfect bottom sparkled like a huge bifurcated jewel.  In the audience, over one hundred male mouths went dry.

Pastor Chronister wrapped his right arm around Susan’s narrow waist to restrain her, raised his right hand high, and then the sounds of the first spanks rang through the sanctuary.  Susan bucked and kicked, but the Pastor expertly kept her locked on his lap as his hand continued its relentless tattoo on her rapidly coloring bottom. 

Susan’s bottom was no longer a static work of art.  Individually, her nether globes rippled and flattened with each spank, only to pop back into their original delectable shape. As a pair, those same globes frantically wriggled in a desperate, albeit futile attempt to somehow escape the next blow.  In another dimension of change, her bottom rapidly changed color, reflecting the beam from those floodlights in fetchingly artful and ever-changing ways.

Susan’s tears came rapidly, there was no reason to hold them back.  She had vowed not to beg, but she saw nothing shameful in tears, or even in loud sobs or frank bawling. 

Susan had also made another silent vow, but this one didn’t turn out so well for her!  She had vowed to keep her feet down and her thighs tightly together.  But unfortunately her legs had other ideas.  So halfway through her spanking, poor Susan’s thighs flew wide apart, displaying her most personal charms to the rapt congregation.

When Pastor Chronister felt the moment was right, he increased both the force and the tempo of his spanks.  Susan’s sobs turned to loud bawling.  Then the Pastor finished the job by applying a quick coda of ten full-strength spanks to each cheek.  Susan’s bawling quickly escalated to a frantic wail, which easily filled the entire sanctuary and even penetrated downstairs to the fellowship hall, where it was easily heard by the two white-robed girls who were nervously and uneasily awaiting their own turns across the Pastor’s lap. 

Be it a male or female inductee across his lap, Pastor Chronister’s goal for these rite-of-passage spankings was always the same.  He always spanked until he felt that he had received a “total surrender”.  That meant, at minimum, genuine and complete loss of composure along with an impressively red bottom. 

On one hand the pastor was never fooled by “alligator tears’, but on the other hand, nobody had ever held out against him long enough to claim to have taken their “rite-of-passage” spanking stoically.
   
Although some boys and even the occasional girl had tried, Pastor Chronister had never been bested; his spankings always produced tears.  It was a matter of pride to him that he only spanked with his hand, never with an implement.  His spanking prowess earned the old man considerable respect among the congregation’s young people.          

In the case of Susan, the Pastor had no problems accomplishing his aim.   To be fair, it wasn’t a severe spanking, just enough to do the job.  The spanking over, he held the girl in place just long enough for her to regain a modicum of composure, if not dignity.  When he felt it safe, he helped her to her feet.  Still crying loudly, she danced and rubbed her bottom until she suddenly remembered where she was.  Then, embarrassed and rubbing the tears from her eyes, she quickly calmed down.

The Pastor stood, gently hugged her, and then turned her to face the congregation, “Faith Temple congregation, I want to present you with our newest adult and our newest esteemed member, Susan Parker.”

Susan blushed and smiled shyly as the entire congregation stood to applaud.

Susan’s mother reappeared to help her into her robe, and to escort her down to her family’s pew, where a pillow had mysteriously appeared to cushion her bottom.

Susan had made it.  She was now an adult!  Now she could date without restrictions, even marry, and was entitled to otherwise enjoy the freedoms that come with adulthood.

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Downstairs, the two remaining girls heard the applause, and knew its meaning.   Suddenly Betty’s heart rate accelerated.  She could hear her pulse in her ears!  Sister Stewart said something to her, but it just sounded like gibberish to the nervous girl.  The lady took Betty by the arm, and the girl meekly (perhaps numbly) allowed herself to be escorted upstairs to the foyer, and ultimately down the sanctuary’s center aisle to her oh-so-public fate.     

The procedure with Betty was exactly the same as with Susan, except that the Pastor left out the “explanation”.  He simply wrapped an arm around her and launched into to his talk about Betty’s childhood, her accomplishments, talents, aspirations, and positive qualities.  Then came her unveiling and her spanking.

At first Betty had seemed less responsive than Susan.  Pastor Chronister even had a fleeting fear that she might be the first inductee to balk in the middle of the ceremony.  In the end, she actually took her spanking better than Susan, even though it took extra spanks to bring her more commodious bottom to a proper all-over hue.

After a flesh-jiggling spank dance, the well-spanked girl’s tears had mostly stopped by the time she shyly accepted her applause from the congregation.   Her body again modestly covered, the new adult was escorted off the platform by her mother.

Now it was Nancy’s turn to be escorted to the platform.  Nancy responded quickly but rather mechanically to the usual routine until she was safely across the Pastor’s lap.  Then, compared to the other two, she took her spanking rather badly.  She shrieked, begged, and twisted enough to make Pastor Chronister pause the spanking to reposition her.  After her spanking, it took her noticeably longer than the others to regain her composure.   In fact, she was still sobbing as her mother took her down off the platform to join her family on the pew.

Later, Nancy would say that asking to go last had been a huge mistake.  By the time her turn had come, her reservoir of courage had been seriously depleted, and her nerves were frazzled.

Pastor Chronister purposely drew out his final prayer and the benediction to allow Nancy a bit of extra time to recover.

Finally, the congregation came to the last, most joyful, part of the church’s “coming-of-age” tradition, the greeting of the new inductees!  The congregation gathered around the three girls congratulating them, hugging them, and kissing them.  In their joy and relief, the girls soon forgot their sore bottoms.  Each girl received several envelopes with cash gifts and job offers to help smooth their transition to adult life.    

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Still standing on the platform, Pastor Chronister looked benevolently down on his congregation as they joyfully and loudly milled around the girls.  Church attendance was sometimes a problem for Faith Temple, sometimes dipping near 50% in the summer months.  Yet here it was a Sunday in July, and there had been nearly 100% attendance!

Charitably, the Pastor decided that the attraction must have been the pot luck dinner.
       

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