Atonement Ch 8
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 bretheren 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 bhind 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 receipient 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. Eying 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.
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