Atonement Ch 11
I slipped out of the cabin leaving the delectable Lynne standing obediently in
the corner rubbing a bright red fanny. The locked building wasn't far away and I
managed to get there and get inside undetected. I flicked on a flashlight I had
carried in my pants and swept it around the room. Henry's machine--as near as I
could recall, nearly an exact copy, stood in the center of the room. And unlike
the manual machines in the Punishment Hut, this one had all the features of the
one at Henry's house. I realized that it may have been relatively easy to
reverse-engineer the more mundane mechanical aspects of the machine. Hence the
fully operational machines in the next building. But the electronics and
software controls, that was different. It looked like they had tried, but
couldn't make it work.
I noted that it looked like the machine was being taken apart--or put back
together. Pieces were in packing boxes that bore the blurry address label I had
seen on the video. I noted the address, a street address in Great Falls, Va.
Then it hit me. I began to have an idea as to why it was being shipped there.
Time to go. I had what I needed. I exited by the door and locked it behind me.
Heading down the path where I came in, I hoped to avoid any further encounters
with Lictors, Confessors, Handmaidens and any other denizens of this wacky cult.
No such luck. I saw one of my robed brethren coming my way.
"Harry...Harry," he whispered urgently. "Is that you?" His hood covered his
head, as did mine.
I had to brazen it out, but noted that he didn't look or sound like he belonged
here either. "Ah, no, I'm not Harry," I said.
"Then who..."
"Leonard Shatner," I said, extending my hand. "Pleased to meet you. I was just
on my way..."
"To the initiation? I'm going that way, too--- c'mon. You don't want to miss
this," he chortled. "My name's Bob, by the way."
I fell in with "Bob" heading toward the "initiation", whatever that was, and he
started to talk. "Who were you with?" Before I could answer he forged ahead.
"They gave me this chick named Helen. Let me tell you, she was one hot
number---better even than Celeste who they gave me last month. Well, at ten
grand a pop for a weekend they better be good. I think they have them
conditioned or something. You wear one of these robes and do the spiel they tell
you to and these horney babes will do anything." Abruptly switching subjects he
blurted, "Hey, have you played Mountain Links down in Cherry Grove yet? Me and
some of the 'brother Confessors' are going to try it Sunday. Gotta relax,
y'know. Hey" he said, nudging my ribs, "playing father confessor to all these
fucked up chicks is hard work."
I allowed as how it was hard work, but I told him no, I hadn't made it down to
the golf course yet. I wondered--was that included in the price as part of a
weekend package deal? A couple of Handmaidens, probably a steak dinner, greens
fees for 18 holes. Such a deal. At ten large they probably threw in a bucket of
balls on the range and a Church of Atonement T-shirt for free.
I had felt in my gut that this whole setup had stunk and now I knew. The
Handmaidens were hand picked, probably naive but true believers, they really
thought the path to redemption was in obedience to the commands of any robed
"Confessor". Sell weekends at this commune to corporate fat cats and you have a
nice little money maker. Let the rank and file think they're living in a
religious utopia and make money off the deal.
Now their interest in Henry's machines made more sense. Henry had said that
Jessica was almost addicted to it. Addicted. That was the word he had used. It
would be useful to this church to create a cadre of addicts like that.
I could see we were headed for the ampitheatre. It must have been a commune-wide
event. All kinds of people in all kinds of garb were filling the seats in the
hollowed out hillside venue. On the stage in front were robed clerics wearing
colored robes. There was also a group of uniformed Lictors. At the center of the
stage was an upright whipping post. In front of the post were 3 heavy
straight-backed chairs. I ditched "Bob" in the crowd and stood off to the side
in the shadows to watch.
A purple robed figure approached the lectern and proceeded to read from what I
presumed was the Bible. A hush fell over the crowd. The passages were a mix of
apocalypse and retribution, the kind of stuff the nuns used to use to scare the
bejesus out of us. It all sounded so familiar, "Suffer in this life and be
redeemed in the next." Seems like I heard that one a lot just before Sister Mary
Josephine whopped me with the yardstick. Next, Lictors bearing torches brought
in 3 initiates, two women and one man, all in their early or mid twenties and
wearing long white robes. The initiates were stood in front of the lectern while
the leader went through a ritual question and answer routine with them. When he
was satisfied that they were ready to join the ranks of the true followers, he
announced that their initiation would take them through the stages of their
lives and that they would endure ritual atonement at each stage.
Three Elders in colored robes seated themselves in the chairs. Two were men, one
was a woman. The leader explained that first atonement must be experienced as a
child would experience it and commanded them to remove their robes and prostrate
themselves across the laps of the seated Elders. They were going to get a ritual
public spanking, it looked like. Underneath the gowns they were completely
naked. The three clambered over the knees of the Elders offering up their nude
bottoms for correction. It came swiftly. The Elders were each armed with a short
oval leather paddle like a shoe sole. The leader gave a signal to begin. They
started to vigorously spank the buttocks of the initiates and the sound system
picked up the staccato cracking of the paddles hitting the bare fannies of the
trio. It went on for several minutes and the initiates looked like they felt it.
I saw bodies stiffen and legs flutter in painful reaction to the repeated smacks
from the little paddles. After what must have been 3 or 4 minutes, the leader
signalled a stop and the initiates slumped over the laps of their tormentors,
grateful that it was over.
But it was far from over. The leader announced that adolescence was the next
phase, and the three were told to bend over the backs of the chairs and clutch
the seats. Their rear ends faced the audience. The same Elders were handed what
looked like school paddles by the Lictors and the chief Elder announced that
each initiate would receive ten swats, "Such as you should have experienced as a
teenager".
The swats were delivered slowly and deliberately. This time there was a definite
audible reaction and several anguished yelps accompanied the paddling. Once
again a cacophony cracks and pops, the characteristic dry sound of wood striking
flesh, attested to the pain of the ordeal as the three were paddled like high
school sophomores caught smoking in the bathroom. When the paddling was over,
the chairs were taken away. Now everyone's attention was directed to the
whipping post. And then none other than Anna Klochek bearing an evil looking
multithonged whip walked onto the stage.
She was dressed in tight black leather. The whip was a cat-o-nine tails with
thongs that were at least two and a half feet long. The initiates could not keep
their eyes off of the fearsome implement and the leather clad Ms Klochek seemed
to regard them like cowering prey. This was obviously designed as an
endurance-to-pain ritual. The buttocks of the three must be stinging like crazy
and now they had the prospect of a whipping from this fearsome female Head
Lictor in black leather.
The leader announced that each of the initiates would receive 13 lashes. He
turned to the three and asked if they were ready. They all answered that they
were, but they did not sound as resolute as they had at the beginning.
The first initiate was a well built girl in her mid 20's with shoulder length
brown hair with a well defined waist and a prominent backside. Her hands were
tied above her head and her feet were restrained with cuffs at the foot of the
post. The black-clad Anna Klochek took a stance behind her and swept the thongs
back above her shoulder. There was a hush as the whip swooshed through the air
and fell with a loud thwack! The girl's bottom cheeks rippled and she cried out.
The leader who had a staff in his hand thumped it on the stage and everyone
chanted, "One."
There was a minute's hesitation then, Swisshhh....thwack!
"Ahhhh...", shrieked the girl at the post.
Then thump! "Two", the crowd chanting again.
The whipping fell into a rhythm, the cruel thongs exploding across the reddened
buttocks of the penitent...the cry of anguish...the thump of the staff, and the
mesmerized crowd chanting in unison. The cries grew more shrill as lash after
lash was visited on the girl's welted buttocks. She writhed against the post,
shamelessly wriggling her welted buttocks in tune to the whip, humping the post
like it was a lover. It was a painful whipping, obviously designed to make the
recipient feel like she had endured a serious right of passage.
I scanned the crowd and noticed several robed figures, Confessors, sitting with
scantily clad Handmaidens in abbreviated tunics. I was further surprised to see
that a few were women, escorted by male---what? Handmen? They too wore short
tunics and looked like Roman slaves from a gladiator movie. A few of the
Hand...whatevers slipped to their knees and their heads disappeared beneath the
robes of their Confessor escorts.
I'd seen enough. It was time to get out while everyone else was enthralled with
this ritual lashing spectacle. My mic had been back on since I had left the
private cabin. I hoped it had picked this all up. I made it back to the path
without incident and ditched the robe in a trash can. With some stumbling and
bumbling in the dark, I made my way back.
Wendy was waiting for me back at the camp. Will and Jim had left to return
Elaine to her father. With the Lynne incident and my encounter with "Bob", not
to mention the disappearance of "Cathy Riggs" and Elaine from the commune, I
felt it was time to go. As soon as the initiation ceremony was finished, the
cult leaders would tumble to the fact that something was going on. They might
even start searching the woods. So we packed up what was left and got out.
It was a hard trip down the mountain in the dark loaded with gear, but we got to
the van and took off. I suggested we go North toward Winchester. I wanted to get
out of Pendleton County as soon as possible. There was I was sure, an unholy
alliance between the church and the sheriff's office there.
Exhaustion set in near the Virginia border. I figured we were far enough away
that they wouldn't find us, so Wendy and I crashed at a motel. When we awoke it
was nearly dark again. We'd slept all day. We were both starved, so we went out
to eat. We found a respectable looking diner and ordered some food. Then Wendy,
who'd been quiet, finally piped up.
"You know, I've never seen anything like what we just saw the last few days. I'm
ashamed to admit it, but watching it was a turn on for me."
I told her she wasn't alone, and that I'd known a few women who found spankings
and related activity quite arousing.
"And just how well did you know these women?" she said, arching her brows.
I had previously told her about Jane, so I had to admit that with some of them
it had "gotten Biblical".
"So you're quite experienced in this area," she mused, toying with her food.
"I've been around a little," I admitted.
"Well I must say that it sounded like more than 'a little' with what's-her-name
yesterday when you played father confessor."
Uh-oh, I had left the mic on. She must have heard the whole thing. "I uh, had to
play along, you know. That's the first rule--look and act like you belong." I
knew how this spy business worked.
"Mmmm. Of course. That's it. You had to play along," she said smugly. Then she
switched gears. Eyeing me curiously she said, "Let's go back to our room. I want
to see something."
I shrugged, "Ok, let's go," wondering what she had in mind. But I had a pretty
good idea. We had been in close quarters the last few days and were both aware
that some chemistry had developed between us. The light banter had turned to
flirting and it was starting to look like the flirting was turning to...yeah.
When we got back to the room, she closed the door and turned on the TV. Then she
faced me. "So what does it feel like?" she asked in a husky voice. She was
rubbing her hands up and down her pants legs. Watching all the flagellatory
activity on the monitors would have made Saint Therese's panties moist. Even if
you're not into it, there is something atavistically sexual about a bare bottom
whipping.
"What does what feel like?" I said.
"You know," she whispered with a coy smile. "A spanking. Like you gave to that
girl Lynne?"
Now it was my turn to grin. "Do you want to find out?"
"Maybe. I don't know. It looked sexy. Nobody ever spanked me when I was a kid."
"Well," I said, sitting on the bed, "only one way to find out. Come over here."
She was breathing heavily, excited. "Not too hard, ok? I just want to see what
it's like." I crooked my finger and patted my thighs. She gingerly laid over my
lap, her jeans-clad bottom jutting up. I patted her bottom. "Before we get
started, don't you have anything to atone for?" I said in my mock stentorian
voice.
She giggled, "I did show Billy Smithson my panties for a quarter in third
grade."
"Shocking!" I said, and gave her delightful rear a resounding smack!
"Imagine--raising your dress and showing off your panties to a boy. This
correction is long overdue." Smack! Another solid swat.
"Oooh," she said.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! I gave her four swats quickly on alternating cheeks.
"Hmmm...that actually feels nice."
I said nothing but proceeded to smack her bottom with measured, deliberate
smacks, not too fast, stopping frequently to rub it in. She practically purred
at this treatment at first, then the sting started to build up.
"Ohh...ow...mmm...ahh," she uttered, moving her hips around on my lap. I stopped
after about fourty cracks. My hand was getting the worst of it. Time to up the
ante.
"Ok, stand up," I commanded.
"Are we done?" She sounded disappointed.
"Not by a long shot. Your pants are coming down. I'm wearing my hand out on the
seat of these jeans."
"Take down my pants?" she asked breathlessly.
"Down your knees, Wendy. You want to know what a spanking is like--this is the
way to find out."
"But you'll see my bare hiney," she protested.
"Yeah. Just like Billy Smithson," I shot back. I could see that she was playing,
excited by the prospect.
She thought for a moment, then slowly peeled down her jeans. Then she took them
off completely and tossed them over on the bed. She looked positively delicious
standing there in a tank top that ended above her navel and sheer french cut
panties along with an especially youthful touch, white knee socks.
"Back over again, Wendy," I said with a grin. She laid over my left thigh, her
upper body on the bed. I put my right leg over the backs of her calves and
pushed down on the small of her back making her bottom arch up over my left
thigh. Her curvy fanny was perfectly positioned for a good spanking. The cheeks
were fully exposed as her panties had pulled up into the deep cleft separating
the twin moons leaving her all but bare. "Ok, Wendy, ready? Here we go--now this
is a spanking."
I rubbed my palm in wide circles on her bottom feeling the quivery flesh. Then
smack! Smack! Crack! I brought my hand down in a series medium hard smacks right
on the cheeky crowns of her bottom globes. Her fanny rippled delightfully as I
spanked her with crisp cracks of my palm that had her squirming a bit and making
little "ooh" and "ahhh" sounds. This went on for 100 smacks or so. Then I
stopped and rubbed her ass sensuously, kneading the pinkened mounds. She was
breathing heavily and shivered as my fingers slid gently along the gusset of her
panties between her legs. "Oh, yessss," she hissed. I slid a finger through the
elastic of a leg band into the moist warmth of her pussy.
"Oh, Rollin, yes...mmmm," she moaned.
"Lift up," I said. She lifted up and I yanked her panties down to her knees.
"Are you prepared for atonement, my child?" I asked mockingly.
"Oh, yes Father Rollin, punish me as I deserve."
"Ok," I said plainly. Then I gave her a spanking she'd remember. I clamped my
leg hard over hers and proceeded to baste her little backside good and proper.
She bucked and squealed but did not try to escape as the smacks rained down
turning her bottom a fiery red. I tanned her backside for three or four minutes
without respite.
"Oh, ow, ow,ow...this hurts...oh, God, it stings. Wow, ahhh...ahh." She carried
on as I smacked her jiggling ass relentlessly. I figured she'd asked for the
authentic experience, so I was going to give it to her. She bucked up and down
and wriggled her fanny.
She'd had enough. I slowed the pace down, this time interspersing the smacks
with a lot of rubbing. Her moans changed to whimpers of arousal.
"Nhhh...oh...yessss." She writhed in pleasure as I manipulated her. When I felt
her response to be that of approaching climax I started smacking her bottom
again. Crisp slow open-handed cracks. I punctuated these with a mock lecture.
"Will you act like a lady now?" Smack! "Will you show your panties to boys?"
Smack! Crack!
"Oh...oh...nhhh," she responded. When I sensed she'd reached her limit of
tolerance, I stopped and lifted her to her feet. As she stood her in front of
me, I continued to rub her pussy while her hands found her flaming ass cheeks
and began to rub. I sat back to enjoy the sight of little miss Wendy trying to
ease the sting in her delectable derriere.
She stopped rubbing and gave me a look that was nothing but lust. Then, she
jumped on me, knocking me back on the bed. Grabbing the back of my neck she
pulled my mouth to hers and kissed me passionately. Before I could even react
she was at me like a wild woman. She yanked my clothes off and when had me naked
and on my back, she straddled me, impaling herself on my upright and very stiff
cock. Then she rode me, blissfully moaning as she pinched her own nipples
through the fabric of her tank top. Not satisfied she tore it off, revealing
very nicely shaped breasts. She was bucking up and down and arching forward,
trying to scrape her clitoris against my shaft. The furious fucking couldn't
last. She stiffened in climax and came, jerking around like a woman possessed.
The next time we did it a lot slower. Me on top, she kneeling with me taking her
from behind, like spoons--we tried a bunch of 'em. It was two hours before we
were back on the road. As Wendy slept I had a chance to think of my next move.
