Atonement Ch 10
What I had noticed was that the hooded robes worn by many of the residents of
this odd commune made them seem anonymous. It was common see these robed figures
walking from place to place within camera view like they were tourists.
Sometimes they were accompanied by comely women (and sometimes by young men) in
what appeared to be a short tunic, like a Hollywood version of a Roman slave
costume. The robes were mostly a light gray, although a few were colored. It
must be some indication of rank. Stephen, the inquisitor in the Punishment Hut,
had worn green.
Lisa was able to report to us the afternoon after her visit to the Punishment
Hut. "I'm sleeping on my tummy, that's for sure. My ass is red as a beet and
feels prickly," she said from her closet hiding place.
"But are you ok?" asked Will. "That was some licking you took."
"Yeah, I'm ok. It was really bad, though. I've never felt anything like that
whipping in the machine with that switch. I would have done anything to make it
stop. I guess you noticed it got rather sexual though."
"We saw that."
Lisa shook her head. "Ohmigod...Will, they put us on those...those...things. I
came twice while it was happening. I don't know what to say."
"It's ok--what about Elaine?"
"She's actually kind of torn. She was ready to leave but now she thinks maybe
she should stay. She says they are talking about some initiation ceremony and
then she will be a Handmaiden."
"What's a Handmaiden?"
"I think it's those men and women in tunics who trot around after the Confessors
and the Elite, the guys in the robes. I think they sort of serve them and maybe
they are sexual partners...I'm not sure."
"We're just going to have to pull her out. Make it look like she flew the coop
on her own--you too," Will added.
"I'm ready. Two spankings and a switching in two days. It's like I'm 12 again
and mom's on the warpath. This is too intense for me."
"Listen, Lisa, we need something. Rollin, the guy who came with us, wants to
know if you can put your hands on one of those robes, and if you could make a
key mold for the building in back of the Punishment Hut."
Lisa said she thought she could. There was a communal laundry of sorts and lots
of them were around. She could do the key in 15 seconds so the trick was not
being noticed. She made arrangements with Will to have Elaine near the perimeter
of the compound on some pretext. They would do an abduction there and send her
back to her father. I hoped that he didn't plan on giving her a spanking when
she got home. From the looks of it, she had enjoyed herself.
I snuck through the woods with Jim and Will to an area near a path behind the
cabins. I was fitted with a wireless mic so that anything anyone said to me
would be transmitted back to camp and recorded. Sure enough, Lisa and Elaine
were there. They couldn't risk a scene with Elaine. Before she even knew what
was happening Jim had grabbed her from behind and inserted a syringe in her arm.
She collapsed like a ton of bricks. As Jim put her in a fireman's carry, Lisa
handed me a cowled robe, a grey one. Perfect. I could get to the building and
examine the machine inside more closely by pretending to be one of the robed
brethren. It would only take an hour and it was dark anyway so I'd be in and out
before anyone caught on. After the rendezvous with Lisa, Will had given me a key
made from an impression on a resin compound that Lisa had jammed into the lock.
More high tech wizardry.
I donned the robe and strolled back onto the grounds, heading in general for the
Punishment Hut. The trick is to look like you know where you're going and what
you are doing. I didn't want to look hesitant or confused, something that might
prompt someone to be "helpful". I was in sight of the building when I was hailed
by one of the "Lictors", the church's enforcement arm under the spartan
direction of Ms Klochek. This particular woman, in the quasi-military garb of
starched blouse, tan shorts and Sam Browne belt was accompanied by a quite
lovely woman in one of the skimpy tunics worn by the Handmaidens.
"I beg your pardon, Confessor...," she began, "but this Handmaiden, Sister Lynne
is due for her weekly confession and penance. If you are not otherwise engaged
could you see to her? You may use one of the cabins down the path from the
Punishment Hut. I was supposed to take her to see Confessor Robert but he has
been called away."
Sister Lynne was a pretty and slender bottle blonde with long hair combed to one
side and short bangs covering her forehead. She gave me a shy smile and clasped
her hands in front of her demurely. She had terrific legs. There was no help for
it, I had to play along. I could get inside one of these cabins, put Lynne in
the corner or something for her "penance" and slip out to the locked building.
"Of course, officer..." I read her name tag, "Cheryl".
"That's Lictor Cheryl, Confessor. We are called Lictors here."
"Yes, of course," I said, feeling like an idiot. But oddly, she seemed to accept
my mistake and take it in stride. Were the Confessors not residents here, but
visitors? Even so, you would think that as church elite they knew this stuff.
She led the way down the path to a cabin and unlocked it, ushering us in. Inside
was a room with a bed like a hotel room. But there were some extra features
surely not found at Motel 6. There was a padded stool and a padded sawhorse,
both with buckling straps and padded cuffs on the legs. Along the wall was a St
Andrews cross and a sturdy straightbacked chair. A pair of manacles hung from
the ceiling on a pulley and there was a low padded table with buckling straps
attached to it. On hooks were a variety of paddles, floggers, straps and
switches. On another table were various dildos and buttplugs along with jars and
tubes of creams, lotions and gels. A guy and gal could have a fine old Saturday
night in here.
"I will leave you now with Sister Lynne," she said with a broad smile. "Give her
a real penance, she has been a naughty girl." She left, closing the door behind
her. I decided to try and fake it.
"Sooo...Sister Lynne, you wish to confess to me?"
"Oh yes, Confessor. But first, can I ask you something?"
"Anything, ah, my child," I said in my best stentorian voice.
"Promise me," she said in a low whisper, twisting her fingers together and
licking her lips, "promise me you'll punish me hard. And then you'll...take me,
make me do things. I'll do anything."
I stepped back, stunned. Here was this attractive woman, in her early 20's I
guessed, and she wanted to be punished. Hard, she said. I was trying to stay on
task but I had to play a role here so as not to arouse suspicion.
" Ah, very well, Sister Lynne, what is that you've done and, uh, how many
weeks has it been since your last confession?" My Catholic schoolboy
conditioning was kicking in.
Lynne took a big breath. "I-I've been...that is, I've p-pleasured myself. At
night. When no one was looking. And I've been having terrible thoughts
about...doing it."
"I see," I countered gravely. "This is indeed serious. I an glad you have
confided in me. We must, however, begin your penance. The cleansing pain of
atonement will drive these evil thoughts and deeds away." I'd heard enough of
the lingo so this sounded right. I figured to give her the good spanking she
obviously wanted and then plan a hasty exit, so I walked over to the chair and
moved it into the center of the room.
"Stand at my side, Lynne," I said after seating myself. She moved obediently to
my right side and stood, waiting. "Get across my knee, girl," I commanded. She
hastened to obey, lowering herself face down over my thighs. After several days
in the woods watching the proceedings in the commune, the contact of Lynne's
soft body over my knee gave me an instant erection. The little tunic rode up the
back of her thighs. She had very nice legs. I flipped the little tunic up,
uncovering her seat. Her ass was beautiful. The twin cheeks jutted skyward,
attractively contained by silky white tap pants. She had a very full bottom for
a thin girl and the lower part of her bottom cheeks peeked out the bottom of the
tap pants.
"Are you ready, Sister Lynne," I said rubbing her hind cheeks in circles with my
palm. She squirmed and moaned a breathless, "Yes, sir."
I started spanking the chubby cheeks briskly, alternating sides. She moaned and
rubbed her thighs together. Her ass was wonderfully soft and resilient. After
about 25 or 30 swats, I stopped and moved my hand to the elastic waistband of
the pretty tap pants. Her response was to lift her body slightly permitting me
to slip the pants to her knees. Her bare bottom was gorgeous--well proportioned
round globes that now bore tell-tale reddish handprints. I rubbed the splendid
cheeks then resumed the chastisement spanking with a constant rhythm. Her
response was to bob her ass up and down, almost as if seeking to meet my
descending hand. The sound of the steady smack! smack! smack! of my palm filled
the little cabin. After about a hundred good smacks her bottom was red, my palm
was stinging and she was breathing heavily. I moved my hand down between her
legs. As I suspected, her quim was slick with arousal. She stiffened as my
fingers found her moist slit and she almost purred with pleasure as I
manipulated her swollen clit.
"Oh...oh...sir," she croaked, humping her mons against my hand. I kept it up for
a few moments then stopped.
"Is that what you felt Sister? Lust?"
"Oh, yes, yes. Oh, it was wicked. I-I should be punished harder, sir." She was
panting with desire. Obviously this was going to take longer than I thought.
"Rise, Sister Lynne and remove your tunic," I said as I helped her up. She slid
the flimsy garmet over her head. Underneath she was naked. Her breasts were not
large but they were nicely shaped. Her nipples were hard nubs. Slim hips flared
out from her narrow waist giving her a lithe figure that had curves in just the
right places.
I was playing to her needs, so I said, "Go to the wall and select an implement
for me to punish you with."
She walked to the wall, her delicious bottom swaying. She paused and looked,
then selected an oval leather paddle. Returning, she knelt before me and
presented the leather paddle on outstretched arms, palms up. "Please punish me,
Confessor, so that I may atone and my guilt be relieved."
I took the paddle. "Stand Sister and prostrate yourself across the stool."
She rose and bent across the padded stool, gripping the legs, her feet about a
foot apart. "You will count to twenty, Sister Lynne, and with each stroke you
will feel the guilt melt away. They will be hard ones."
"Oh...yes sir." She sounded eager.
I tapped her seat with the paddle a few times to line it up and then hit her
with it hard square across the center of her buttocks. The paddle landed with a
loud Whap! Her ass cheeks jiggled. "Oooh, one sir" Whap! "Two, sir". Whap!.....
I wielded the paddle smoothly, smacking her delightful bottom with steady
strokes, spaced a second or two apart with a brief pause after each three. Her
cheeks rippled as I hit, then rebounded. The lower summits of her jouncy ovals
were becoming quite red and I imagined it was stinging some. Her counting was
becoming a bit higher pitched. It was hard to tell if it was pain or lust. I was
betting on lust.
I finished the twenty and told her not to move. On the table was lifelike rubber
penis. I smeared some lubricant on it and returned to Lynne still bent over. "Is
this what you did?" I said, inserting the dildo into her vagina.
"Oooo...yes sir," she moaned. I pistoned the phallus in and out while I held her
body down over the stool with my left hand. She squirmed with pleasure. I
increased the pace of my stroking and was rewarded when she went into humping
spasms that could only mean orgasm. When she laid limp over the stool I stopped.
She turned her face toward me. "Please, sir, let me pleasure you."
Well, when in Rome...
I sat in the chair and hoisted my robe up. She knelt between my legs and
unzipped my fly. Reaching in, she pulled my painfully swollen member free and
gingerly held it between her palms. She bent her head and took me into her
mouth. Softly at first, then more vigorously, she swirled her tongue around the
the shaft. I watched as she slid her lips back and forth along the plum-shaped
head sending bolts of pure pleasure up and down my spine. When I thought I might
lose it, I pulled her head back.
"Up," I said hoarsely, pulling her to her feet. I knew that so far her
punishment had not been that intense and that she craved more. I put her hands
in the cuffs hanging from the ceiling and cranked the winch pulling her arms
above her head. Next, I selected a black leather-covered switch hanging on the
wall. She turned around to look over her shoulder as I first tested one then
another switch. They each made a whining noise as I swished them through the air
experimentally. I settled on a thin whippy one. She winced as I whipped it down
in a sharp slashing motion testing its flex. It would do.
"True atonement, Sister Lynne, calls for a degree of severity that you are not
comfortable with. Do you understand this?" She nodded. She knew that up to now
her "punishment" had been a nice fanny warming--an erotic interlude. But I had
to act like I thought these Confessors would or she would mention it to someone
else. I wasn't ready to have my cover blown just yet.
"You will receive 9 strokes, Sister Lynne, and you will count each one. Are you
ready?"
"Y-yes, sir," she answered.
"Very well. Lean over and present your buttocks, girl." She complied, hollowing
out the small of her back so that her bottom jutted back, the red flushed
hemispheres spreading out rounding themselves as if eagerly awaiting the whip. I
decided these had to be firm. Swick! I brought the switch down square across the
crowns of her pouting seat. She flinched and her knees bent a little.
"Oh...one," she hissed. Swick! Another red line painted across her succulent
rump. "Owww....two," was her response. At intervals of 10 -15 seconds I whipped
her bottom with brisk strokes of the switch, trying to land each one evenly
across the presented cheeks. She cried out. She sagged in her bonds. She sifted
her weight from foot to foot vainly trying to alleviate the sting of the switch
across her fanny.
After 9 strokes had been administered her ass was striated with thin red weals.
Judging by her cries, it had been an effective punishment. It was now time for
comforting. Retaining the robe, I slipped off my pants. My cock was pointing
straight out forming a tent in the robe. "Do you wish to be comforted, Sister?"
I asked. I stood behind her, my body pressed against her hot ass, my hands
reaching around tweaking the erect nipples. "Please," she croaked. There were
condoms on the table. I slipped one on to my cock and moved behind her. I raised
my robe and placed my hands on her hips. Then I bent my knees slightly and
guided my hard shaft to the entrance of her vagina. When she felt the head of my
knob seeking entry she shifted her body to accommodate me and I slid in. She was
wonderfully tight, yet fully lubricated. I started thrusting my pelvis against
the soft cheeks of her bottom. She hollowed her back even more and spread her
legs. I thrust in deeper. She moaned. I tried to go slow but the friction of my
cock in the tight tunnel of her quim was going to make me cum, so I picked up
the pace. Having orgasmed once already she was sensitized to the sensation of
being fucked and from the motion of her body and the sounds she made I knew she
was close. We came together bucking and writhing furiously.
I took her out of the cuffs and made her stand in the corner blindfolded. I told
her not to move, that I would return in an hour. I figured that gave me enough
time. After readjusting my clothes I was out the door, headed for the mysterious
building next to the Punishment Hut.
