The Christian Discipline Diaries

The Christian Discipline Diaries

Suzzane Smithers

Saturday March 9th, 1996 – I Must Write a Diary About My Disciplining

I am ordered to write this Diary of my Chastisements.  There are two parts to my learning Discipline.  One is the Chastisements I receive.  The other is writing about them in this Diary.  I have never written a diary before.  I have never been very good in school or writing.  But my Pastor and my Husband have ordered me to look at my life and decide if I want to be a good wife.  I guess I have been bad.  I have failed as a wife and a mother.  I must change my life.  I started already today with my Chastisement.  I can’t go to bed until I have written my Diary into the computer.  My Chastisement seemed severe to me.  It was the most terrible beating I have ever had in my life.  And my mom used to give me some real “ass whuppin’s”. But my Pastor tells me I only had a Moderate Chastisement.  That is one which is the lightest kind that counts.  But my bottom is so sore and purple and bruised that when my Husband had Sexual Congress with me it hurt so bad I screamed.

I write into this computer.  I write what I did today, right and wrong.  I write how my Chastisements happened and how my Chastisements feels. Then I print out what I write.  Tomorrow, my Husband Domnic reads it and makes changes in red ink.  He will point out where I have missed something that I was supposed to write.  Then I enter the changes and print it out again.  When I am finished I will punch holes in the paper and put it into a 3 ring binder.  I will keep what I write each day.  Each day I will first write about what happened in the past.  Second I will write about what happened that day.  Third I will write about what is about to happen. I will look on what I have done, be sorry for what I have done wrong and I will try to be better.  I have filled out my Record and punched the holes in it and put it into my binder. 

I do not want to go to hell.  I do not want my daughters to go to hell.  I have frequently been bad and I have tried to be better.  I have not done very well at being better.  My daughters are starting to take after me and be bad.  I want us all to go to heaven.  I will do what my Husband and Pastor order.  I will try and be like Martha, my Pastor’s wife.  I will try and not be like Shannon my sister who is a Whore.  I will bear the pain and I will also teach my Daughters to bear the pain.

Morning, March 1996 – A Start to The Change of Christ

My husband Dominic and I met this morning, Saturday, with our Pastor Henry and his wife Martha.  We met at their house rather than at the Church.  I now realize that my Husband has been meeting with Pastor Henry for some time.  My Husband has been trying to figure out how to correct what has been going wrong with our marriage. My Husband has been working to figure out how to control my bad behavior and the increasingly bad behavior of our three daughters, Sarah, Samantha and Sophie.  Right now I do admit that the behavior of our three daughters has been getting worse and worse.  What I have been struggling with is that I have been behaving so badly.  I didn’t think I was.  I certainly didn’t think I was behaving so badly to deserve being stripped, tied down and beaten.  I didn’t know that in our Church all good Husbands did this to their Wives.  This morning was the crisis in my life.  My Husband, my Pastor and his wife my best friend Martha confronted me with my bad behavior, the results of this bad behavior on my daughters and the way to change this by way of Christ-Like Submission, Obedience, and Discipline.  I have accepted Christ’s mandate and as St. Paul ordered in his Letter I will be submissive to my husband.  This morning I underwent my first Chastisement. 

In a bit I will describe in detail my first Chastisement.  It shook me real up.  I had never been given anything like a Chastisement by my Husband.  The closest I ever came to this was a buck naked whipping with a switch my mother gave me.  But that was really nothing like a Chastisement.

This evening I had a second Chastisement at the pleasure of my Husband and master.  In terms of damage it was just about as severe as what I got this morning.  But, it wasn’t anywhere as bad because by this evening I knew what was coming.  Tonight I was sore and bruised when it started and real sore and even bleeding a little when it finished but I didn’t lose control once.  But first I must write about this morning.

Morning, March 9th, 1996 – A Meeting with the Pastor

My family belongs to the Holiness Church.  Really the Holiness Church is one of the Strict Observance Bible Churches which are part of the Evangelical Churches of Christ.  This means that we are Fundamentalists and Brethren.   We are what folks in a big city like Houston or Dallas would look down their noses at.  They think we are a “Bunch of Poor White Trash Holy Rollers”.  This means that we are out in the piney woods about a two-hour drive from the big city and about ten miles from the big US highway that goes through East Texas on its way to Lufkin, Tyler and Texarkana.  The Holiness Church SOBECOC has been my family’s church for about as long as there has been my family.  It is by the side of the Farm to Market road that goes between Bocadoches and Wyler.  The church is surrounded by big old pine trees that must be 80 feet tall and a hundred years old.  The church is about half way between the two towns and there isn’t a house within a mile of the church.  It is made of wood and doesn’t have a steeple but it does have high pointed windows with clear panes and green shutters.  We holiness folks like things real plain and simple.  No stained glass, no organ, no steeple.  Inside there is just a floor made of old growth, long leaf yellow pine and waxed four times a year, and a bunch of wooden folding chairs.  Up in front there is a simple wooden pulpit and hung from the wall a simple wooden cross and that is about it.  Except for the big closet in the front where they store the chairs and hymn books and all sorts of junk.  The church must be over 125 years old and was built after the War of Northern Aggression when the first church building was burned by the Yankees.  It was only about 10 years ago that they finally brought electricity into the church.  We are hoping to replace the outhouses with flush toilets later this year.  But you can bet that there will never be no air conditioning or none of that fancy city stuff. 

The Pastor and his wife live in a small frame house about 500 feet behind the church and deeper in the woods.  The drive from the Church to the Parsonage is lined with giant Hackberry trees.  Yes the Parson’s house is painted white and has green shutters.  In fact just about everything is painted white and has green shutters.  I love their house because it is surrounded by big old live oak trees and has a big porch that goes around three sides of the house.  No matter how hot it gets, it is always cooler sitting on that porch.  The house is even older than the church because the Yankees didn’t burn it.  I knew the old Pastor or rather my mother did and I can always remember sitting on that porch.  The new Pastor works across the street from Dominic in Bocadoches.  He works for feed and seed store and my Dom works for the Ford dealer.  His wife Martha is a homebody like me but she doesn’t have any children so she does all kind of things for the Church.

This morning Dom and I drove out to the Church after dropping off the girls at their best girlfriends house for the day.  Like I said earlier, Dom and I have been having a lot of trouble lately, arguing, mostly about the girls.  Last Sunday, after services, Pastor Henry said we should come over after breakfast on Saturday and he and Martha would talk with us.  I love Martha who is so beautiful and always so nice.  They sat us down in the parlor which is my favorite room in the house.  Martha and Henry are simple folks, from northern Mississippi.  The parlor has a oak floor and white walls with white lace curtains.  There are just 5 low back maple chairs, two maple end tables with lamps and a pretty large maple coffee table.  Lastly there was a beautiful old burled walnut chifarobe with a center door and mirror.  No sofa or stuffed chairs or a bunch of clutter.  And the prettiest pictures on the walls.  Just plain and simple like Pastor Henry and Martha.  I was feeling pretty low and was wearing a old pair of jeans and a sleeveless yellow top and old tennis shoes with my dishwater blond hair clipped into a pony tail.  Dominic, as usual was better dressed and had on a pair of slacks and a light blue oxford cloth button down shirt.  But Martha was the one who really looked great.  She was modestly dressed in deep blue but the outfit was really eye catching.  The dress had a high neckline, three quarter sleeves and the hem was well below the knee but it clung to her in the sexiest way.  And she had on navy blue high heels and dark blue nylons that looked terrific.  She must be ten years older than I am but her breasts are full and shapely and men often look at her in that way that you know they are thinking dirty thoughts.  As I walked in I asked her why she was so dressed up and she said that in the afternoon she was going shopping all the way into Cleveland which is about an hour away.  I sat next to her feeling dumpy and Henry and Dominic sat across the room.  It was a hot day for March but then we don’t have much of a spring here in East Texas.

Pastor Henry started off by picking up the Bible from the coffee table and reading.  He read from the Old Testament about the duties of a wife and mother.  Then he read from the New Testament about what Paul had to say about a wife submitting to her husband.  Thing got real quiet and I started to cry.  Then Martha said to me, “I believe what the Good Book says and I owe my husband three things.  Submission, I Submit to him at all times.  Obedience, I Obey whatever he commands.  And Discipline, I lovingly accept whatever Discipline he imposes on me.  I have done this since they day my father placed me into Henry’s hands.”  At this point she walked over to him and knelt before him absolutely straightly.  Now I really started to cry because she was so unlike poor me who is always causing problems.  Pastor Henry then said, “Martha you are beautiful but willful.  Your father raised you properly and I have followed his instructions.  Are you prepared to offer and example to poor sinful Suzzanne here of what is expected of a good Christian wife in our Church?”  Martha bowed her head, held out her hands, crossed in front of her and nodded affirmation.  Pastor Henry got up and walked over to me.  He placed the Bible on my head with his hands on top and said “Suzzane receive the instruction of the Holy Spirit.  May the lessons of the Book flow into you through the example of Sister Martha.  She speaks not but the voice of her humble Submission, wordless immediate Obedience and adherence to Discipline thunder forth.” He then went over to the chifarobe and opened the door, removed some things, put one of them under his arm and went back over to the kneeling Martha.  Then I saw, puzzled that what he had in his hands was a fancy braided rope, mostly dark blue but with some yellow threads.  He used the rope to tie her hands in a complicated knot, first wrapping the rope around her wrists, then wrapping the rope around the coils holding her wrists in such a way as to tighten the coils and finally ties the two ends together.  “I have lashed your wrists to symbolize that you are bound to me.  Your silence is witness to your submission and this lashing is witness to your obedience.  Now stand up.”  With a wry smile Martha now stood.  She seemed to be quite proud of herself and her bound wrists and I could have sworn that she thrust her chest out to make her breasts more prominent.

March 9th, 1996, 9:30 AM – Martha is to Be Chastised

I looked from Martha to my husband Dominic.  He seemed to be without surprise as if he knew exactly what was to happen.  The Pastor Henry said “Dominic, you need to take command of your family.  Unfortunately, your wife has neglected the Discipline of your daughters and has become a slovenly slattern.  Are you willing to learn how a Christian father Disciplines his Family.”  Dom rose, nodded, and said “I will”.  Henry then said, “Martha are you willing to be the model of wifely Christian Discipline for our poor sinful Sister Suzzane”.  Martha nodded her head. Then Pastor Henry continued “Dominic, Saturday is the day of preparation for the Lord’s day.  This is the day when your family should examine their behavior before you and take Chastisement for their errors.  Martha has examined her behavior, confessed to me her Master her errors and is ready to accept my Discipline.  I wish for you, Suzzanne’s husband to see how a proper wife practices her Discipline so that you can teach Suzzanne Discipline.  Martha, do you agree with this?”  Martha nodded and Henry continued “Wife, prepare yourself for your Chastisement”.

Mid Morning, March 9th, 1996 – I View Martha’s Chastisement

At this point I was staring in disbelief.  Earlier I had felt bad because I was such a failure as a wife and mother and here I was watching the woman I most admire, silent, fettered, and agreeing to accept a, what’s this about, a Chastisement!  I was shocked but there was also a bit of a thrill going through me.  What was going to happen to this beautiful and proud woman.  She turned to face me, looked me directly in the eye and almost a bit defiantly stuck her breasts out even further.  Then with her hands bound before her she reached down, grabbed the front hem of the skirt of her dress and pulled it up to just below her breasts.  I almost fell off my chair.  Pastor Henry said to my Husband “Dominic, lift up Martha’s slip in the back”. My Husband promptly lifted up the nylon slip, starting with the lacy hem and gathering up the shiny white fabric as he went.  When he had it up to the waist, Pastor Henry said “You will notice two ribbons attached to the inside of the slip at the waist.  These have button holes on their free ends.  Button these ribbons to the cloth covered buttons you see on the back of Martha’s dress just below the color.”   At that point I began to understand at least a little of what was going on.  Martha’s dress had a couple of button high on the back and her full slip had a set of tabs on the inside so that the entire back of the dress and slip could be gathered well above the waist and hitched up.  That dress that I so admired was specifically rigged for spanking.  I also now realized that Martha didn’t have and panties on.  Her stockings were not pantyhose but were the old fashioned kind of nylons and were held up by a white garter belt.  She was going to be Disciplined right in front of me as an example of what a proper wife should be.  Once again she looked me directly in the eye and once again smiled.

I also finally figured out what Pastor Henry had under his arm.  It was a strap or belt.  Pastor Henry then said “Martha, turn around and assume the first position”.  The lady I so admired promptly turned away from me, precisely placed her high heel-shod feet about two feet apart, and touched the fingertips of her bound hands to the floor in front of her.  At this point she was bent over about 8 feet away from where I was sitting and I realized that I could, from my position, clearly see here genital region.  I realized from the smooth condition of her labia that she truly had never delivered a child and indeed still had the fourchette of an adolescent girl.  This juvenile impression was further strengthened because she had removed all the hair from her bottom.  I must have gasped because her smile became even broader.  Pastor Henry said, “Martha your Chastisement is to be 12 strokes.  As you know, after each you will thank Mr. Smithers and nicely ask for the next stroke giving its number.  If you remove your fingertips from the floor, that stroke will be repeated.” 

He handed the strap to Dom and I had a chance to get a good look at it.  It was dark brown leather, about one quarter of an inch thick, about two and a half inches across and at least two feet long.  The strap was attached to a wooden handle.  This comprised a formidable weapon, not as light as even the heaviest belt I had ever seen.  I had experienced more than my fair share of spankings from my mother as a child and early adolescent.  Some of them were hasty, angry “whuppings” spurred by some particularly nasty bit of behavior, whaling away with what ever came to mom’s hand.  But others were more calculating, with my mother setting a time for Chastisement, usually right before bedtime.  That way there was the apprehension, which made things worse.  There was the humiliation of changing into bedclothes, usually pajama tops or a summer nightgown so that the bottom was more easily bared.  Lastly there was the selection of the instrument, a belt or a freshly cut switch.  But no belt I ever felt looked anything like that leather strap.  I shuddered at the thought of how it must feel.  It looked like it was heavy enough to pack a wallop but supple enough so that it could curl around a buttock or thigh and deliver that nasty terminal slap. 

Dom walked around and stood just behind at to the left of the stretched over Martha.  “Unfasten her garter belt” Pastor Henry instructed Dominic.  My husband complied, undoing the three hook and eyes in the back and letting the white undergarment hang down across the front of Martha’s knees.  This left Martha’s posterior completely bare from the small of her back where her dress and slip were gathered and fastened to the middle of her thighs where her dark blue stockings started.  I was amazed at how white the dark haired Martha’s behind and upper thighs were!  I am a “dirty blond” and I don’t think that my skin is that white.  Must be that she never goes swimming or sunbathing.  As I stared at here backside I began to notice some faint “black and blue” marks.  It looks like she must have taken a “licking” a couple of weeks ago and although the blue and yellow had faded greatly, they were not completely gone.  With the beating about to begin I found myself becoming strangely excited.  The last “ass whupping” I had witnessed was a decade ago when my mom punished Shannon and me for fooling around with boys.  The sexual nature of our offenses, being made to strip completely naked for the whipping, and the use of a switch on our breasts and privates in addition to our butts gave that Chastisement a sexual thrill.  But that was nothing like this.  This was much more formal, more controlled.  The sexual overtone was amplified by the presence of the men, and Martha’s being partially clothed.  Yes, I was finding this sexually arousing.

Pastor Henry said “the first stroke should be placed right in the center of Martha’s behind”.  Dom raised and extended his arm backward, and then swung forward striking her ass with a resounding slap.  Martha started forward a bit but her fingertips never left the floor.  Before she had a chance to say something Pastor Henry quickly stated “I don’t think that the stroke was sufficiently forceful.  Martha, do you think Mr. Smithers could have done better than that?  Nod yes or shake no.”  Martha nodded her head up and down.  She thought that Dominic could have hit her harder!  I was amazed because already both of Martha’s buttocks were marked with a two and a half inch wide red band stretching from left to right and curling around the right hip almost to the front.  There was even a bit of a welt beginning to form where the edge of the strap met the skin.  I shudder to think what this “insufficiently forceful” slap must have felt like.  I’ll bet that that one stroke tortured more skin area than five of the fiercest “whupps” my mom my mom ever gave me.  Making the pain even worse had to be the position that Martha had assumed.  Bent over so severely stretched the skin of her buttocks tightly giving the blow added sting.  “Let us repeat the first stroke with a little more sting shall we” prompted my Pastor.

Dominic took a better wind up this time and really put some right shoulder into it.  CRACK!  Martha really rocked forward this time, barely keeping here balance.  She choked and gasped and eventually croaked out “Thank you Mr. Smithers.”  She took as deep a breath as she could and then said hoarsely,  “Please give me stroke number two.”  That one must have really hurt.  Despite the skin being tightly stretched by the extreme bending, I saw the strap indent the skin of Martha’s butt by at least an inch.  Pastor Henry commented “I think that you now have the basic stroke force down pat.  Don’t you agree Martha?”  From my position behind her I could see a couple of tears rolling out of her eyes and streaming downward across her forehead.  Martha nodded her head in agreement that Dom was now using enough force.  Henry now prompted “You may continue.  The second stroke should strike the lower part of the buttock just above where the panty crease would normally be.”  Dom wound up and delivered a strike right across the fattiest part of Martha’s butt, directly on top of her asshole.  WHACK!  Again Martha gasped and started forward and a bit to the left as the strap struck her butt and curled around the right hip.  But again she still managed to keep her balance.  After a couple of breaths to recover she gave the sign to continue “Thank you Mr. Smithers, please give me number three”.  “The third stroke should strike the upper part of the buttock, Dominic” suggested Pastor Henry.  My husband had to adjust his swing because Martha’s bent over position put the upper part of her behind in a relatively level position.  To properly spank that part of her butt, the strap would have to come directly downward.  And so it did, rocking  Martha forward and down.  Her fingertips crumpled and her hands splayed outward, keeping her from falling forward.  Between her spread knees I could catch a glimpse of her face and see that it was turning red.  “Thank you Mr. Smithers, please give me stroke number four” Martha manage to get out.  “The fourth stroke should spank the upper thighs” encouraged Henry.  Again, Dominic adjusted his stance and delivered a blow just above the tops of Martha’s blue nylon stockings.  Again the tail of the strap wrapped around smartly, this time actually ending up striking the front of her thighs.  I now understood why the garter belt had been unhooked and dropped down.  If it was still up the leather strap would have struck the elastic suspender possibly tearing the skin when the metal adjustment clip was driven in.  As it was Martha was having a hard enough time keeping her composure and balance.  “Thank you Mr. Smithers.  Please give me number five”.

Because of the width and length of the strap, four blows were sufficient to cover almost three quarters of Martha’s behind with red marks.  The red started at the top of her buttocks and continues down to the thighs.  Since the strokes had not overlapped, there was some white in between the areas where the strap had made contact but even those areas were picking up a red reactive flare.    At this point Pastor Henry instructed my husband to move to Martha’s right side.  “Now you will get a chance to practice your backhand stroke” he cheerfully advised Dom.  “Step back and take a few practice swings.  You will want to get the swing of it.”  Dominic took the advice and enjoyed seeing how close to Martha’s right thigh he could backhand swing the strap.  This also gave me a better look at Martha than the glimpses I was catching when my husband was applying the strap to her backside.  Martha was hanging in there, red faced and teary.  However, with my improved view I noticed that she had spread her knees more widely than at first.  The lips of her pussy were swelling and I could have almost sworn that they were glistening a bit.  Martha took the break in the action to recover a bit of her composure, taking deep breaths in and out.

Soon enough Dominic stepped back in.  Hauling the strap in his hand back across his chest and to his left side, he wound up and delivered a resounding smack right across the center of Martha’s ass, curling around her left thigh.  I really thought she was going to start up and take her fingertips off the floor that time but she hung on.  “Thank you Mr. Smithers, please give me stroke number six” came out of her clenched teeth.  Again the backhand swing and the strap struck lower and right over the anus.  Martha gasped and hissed but hung on.  Finally Martha said “Thank you Mr. Smithers, number seven please”.  This was the high buttock, downward shot and once again her fingertips slipped and she palmed the floor.  A bit slower came the “Thank you, please number eight”.  The stroke to the upper thighs broke her concentration and the fingers came up off the floor as she partially straightened up.  “Ut, Ut, Ut” remarked Pastor Henry quickly, “number eight must be repeated because contact of fingers and floor was broken”.  My husband wound up his backhand and delivered a solid smack again across the backs of the thighs just below what would have been the panty line if Martha had been wearing panties that morning.  Somehow Martha managed to hang on and hoarsely whisper “Thank you Mr. Smithers, please give me number nine”.  “Time to re-arrange things again” interjected Pastor Henry.  Dom, move around to Martha’s front.  The spanks should come down from over her back with the tail of the strap striking her thighs just above the stocking tops.

Dominic moved around and now stood in front of Martha.  Now my view would be totally unobstructed.  I realized that I was getting really turned on.  I became acutely conscious that I was starting to ooze vaginal secretions.  My nipples were also swollen.  I wasn’t the only one.  As my husband stood in front of Martha and practices a few downward swings I noticed a remarkable distention of the front of his pants.  It looked like Martha was getting quite turned on.  He knees were now quite widely spread and I could see vaginal juices starting to run down the inner part of her thighs all the way to her stocking tops.  The swelling of her labia was now very pronounced and her thighs were so spread that I could see a tumescent clitoris beginning to peak out at me.  I couldn’t get a clear view of Pastor Henry’s pants front but I’ll bet you beans to bacon that he also had a hard on.

THWACK!  Dominic had stopped practice swings and had applied a smack of the strap to Martha’s left butt cheek and upper thigh.  A groan escaped her lips but she managed to get out “Thank you, number ten please”.  Quickly another blow spanked her right buttock and thigh.  Now she was quivering and shaking.  With great effort Martha hissed “Thank you Mr. Smithers, please give me swat number 11”.  Back to the left ass and thigh my husband went.  He realized that although it was awkward standing near Martha’s head and delivering blows from up above downward, the strap made continuous contact along almost all of its length.  For my part, I loved this position because it gave me such a great view of all of Martha.  Martha was also showing the effect of the strapping.  Her wrists and forearms were really starting to shake.  There was virtually no white left on her thighs and backside.  Three cycles of swats ensured that virtually every square inch of skin got coverage.  Over half of her buttocks had gotten hit at least three times with the heavy leather strap and those areas were bright red beginning to turn red-purple.  In places there were little red spots where minute blood vessels under the skin had broken.  After taking four deep breaths Martha managed to get out “Thanks Mr. Smithers, please give me the twelfth and last stroke”.  And so he did, landing a blow on that part of the right butt cheek and upper thigh that had the least bruised flesh.

“ARRGH, ARRGH, ARRGH” wailed Martha and her fingertips came up off the floor.  “No No No, Not” went Henry.  “Mr. Smithers will have to repeat the stroke.”  This time my husband went for the crease between the cheeks before Martha had a chance to reset her fingertips to the floor stance.  That and the fact that she has moved her feet to a wide stance and spread her knees meant that the blow curled around with the tip of the strap landing squarely on her swollen labia.  Martha started to choke and gag.  “I think that the last stroke of the stap properly finished the job” chortled Henry and Dom began to look a little ill at ease.  “I have to admit that that last slap was as well done as any I have laid on” said the Pastor consolingly.  Martha was now standing with her hands on her knees, read faced and trembling.  “Very good dear” said her husband.  “You will finish your Chastisement by remaining in that position for 15 minutes.  Dom, why don’t you and Suzzane go to the kitchen and have a cup of coffee to pass that time.  Perhaps you can have a bit of a talk”.