PUNISHMENT AND CONFESSION

The next thing I knew I was outside the chapel door - heavy oak with a huge twisted iron handle. I was still tied to the wheelchair, now wearing a blue smock unbuttoned down the front. My breasts were exposed. As I looked down, beyond my achingly hard nipples, I could see at the tops of my open thighs the dark shadow in the cleft of my shaved cunt.

I looked around for Caroline but she was nowhere to be seen. I felt alone and exposed.

The heavy door opened with a creak. I tried to draw my legs together but realised they were tied at the knees to the sides of the wheelchair.

A man’s face peered around the door. His yellow eyes were barely visible between his half closed eyelids; he had several days’ growth of beard and was bald. He looked me up and down and grinned. His teeth were yellow, like his eyes.

‘I’ve been waiting for you. You’re the one that needs to recant aren’t you? You’re the one who can’t start her treatment until she renounces her sins and asks for forgiveness, aren’t you? I have read your report. From what I’ve seen, I cannot recall having to deal with anyone who has sunk so low. Your confession will be hard to take.’

He swung the door fully open. A heady waft of sweet smelling incense filled my nostrils and an accompanying wave of heaving nausea made me swallow hard. I sat bound in the wheelchair, unable to move, staring ahead, not knowing what to do. I heard giggling behind me. Suddenly the wheelchair lurched forward as unseen hands pushed it forward into the darkness beyond.

Shafts of light broke in through jagged breaks in the green, red and blue stained glass windows. As I was pushed forward, a brilliant white shaft broke through a gap and dazzled me. It fractured the face of a dark cloaked figure depicted bending above a pale young girl dressed in white. I felt penetrated by the shining blast of light - it was as though it burned my skin. I shrank back.

I was quickly pushed down an aisle between dark wooden pews to an ornate altar rail. Beyond this, a table with a cloth and candlesticks was surrounded by shabby pictures of the Virgin Mary and in the centre a huge depiction of the crucified Jesus.

The man who had let me in stood behind the rail - he was the priest. He wore a black cassock buttoned down the front, a black tightly woven fascia tied tightly around his waist, and a black shoulder cape. His yellow squinting eyes stared hard at me - he seemed to be assessing me, working out what to do with me. I already felt ashamed - half naked, bound to the wheelchair, confused and trembling with fear - and his stare made it worse. I felt a shamed victim - powerless, unable to control my life, no longer knowing anything about my destiny except that it was in the hands of another.

‘And what have your sins been, my child? It will be difficult for me to hear, I know, but as a servant of Christ, I must bear it. Tell me.’

I stared at him unable to answer. I didn’t know what to say.

‘Do not hold back. It is useless to resist the power of God. I shall have your repentance whether you resist or not. It is within you, I know, and it will be released. Do not hold back. It is pointless.’

‘I don’t...’

He nodded his head, encouraging me to continue.

‘I don’t know what...’

He continued nodding, but it was no good. I couldn’t find the words. I started shaking. I was filled with unfocussed dread. My mind was in turmoil. I couldn’t understand what I was doing here - what was going on.

‘Ah, my child, I see you are fearful. Your fear is confusing your thoughts. It is common. But you are on the brink of salvation.’ He addressed whoever was behind me. Release her! She will kneel before me! Let her repentance begin!’

The giggling voices came closer. Female hands reached around and released my wrists. A woman’s back came into view as she crawled alongside the wheelchair. She started to untie the tapes around my ankles. She stretched out fully - she was naked, slim and perfectly formed. She turned her square shoulders and the points of her spine were picked out like islands. She looked up at me and grinned. She was one of the women who had held me in their teeth as I had been inspected by Dr Collins. Her white teeth were long and pointed. Redness was smeared across her lips and the surface of her top teeth. I couldn’t make out whether it was her lipstick or whether it was blood. The thought that it was blood made me shiver. Perhaps it was mine! I looked at my wrists to see if they were cut - to see if there were teeth marks where she might have bitten in and bled me. I felt ridiculous. She smiled again then crawled back out of sight behind me. I shivered again.

Another woman came into view on the other side. She was on her back, naked like the first. She pushed herself forward, slithering on her shoulder blades until she was at my feet. As she moved her elbows her chest rose and fell and her small breasts pulled against her ribcage. Her dark pink nipples were hard and prominent. She grinned. I could tell that it was blood this time - its darkness, its consistency, the way it dripped from the points of her sharp teeth and ran over her bottom lip. Yes, I could tell by the way she looked at me that she was smeared with my blood. She undid the rope at my ankles, slowly and carefully. She pulled herself up and started kissing my ankle, running her tongue along the indentation made by the tight rope. I felt the sharp, seemingly serrated edges of her teeth against my skin. She drew herself up higher, running her wet mouth along the side of my calf and onto my knee. She stopped and looked up at me; she fixed me with a penetrating stare. She opened her mouth wide. I could see her rosy tongue inside, the blackness beyond it, and the circle of red tinged teeth around it. She looked away and started dropping her mouth towards my skin. It got closer. I wanted to pull away but I couldn’t move.

She was almost touching me when suddenly she turned. Her face changed. She was no longer following her desires - lazily, as though she was in control of her own life - now she was acting through fear of a greater power, threatened, dreading the domineering force of another. Suddenly, a hand was around her throat, clenched tight, causing her eyes to bulge, open wide and stare ahead in fear.

‘Leave her!’ a man’s voice commanded. ‘Leave her!’

The hand released its grip. The woman twisted around and her face fell heavily against the floor. She coughed and choked and held her hands against her throat as if their contact would somehow allow her to breathe again. Spit and blood dribbled from her lips, ran onto the floor and smeared her cheek. I looked down at her, feeling pity for this woman who, only a few moments ago, had been threatening me with her staring eyes and snarling teeth, putting me in fear of unknown terrors all the more frightening because of their lack of substance.

Abruptly, without warning, and by unseen hands around her ankles or feet, she was snatched backwards and out of my sight. There was a heavy thud and a blubbering groan. I imagined the hands of the man gripping tightly around her ankles, yanking her back, hauling her body upwards, flinging it in a half circle and hurling it away. I pictured her, slumped in a crooked heap, gasping for breath, confused, fearful and wondering how she could make amends to her angry master.

The priest beckoned me.

‘Yes, come to the altar. It is here you will earn your salvation. It is here you will recant the evil deeds which have manifested themselves so readily in your wayward body. It is here, before God, where you will bring out the devil which has ruled your life and brought you to this misery.’

I looked at my wrists and ankles. I was free! I leant forward to stand up but straightway held back, fearful I would be forced back into captivity. He beckoned me again. I stood up and this time walked slowly towards the altar rail.

‘Here, my child. Kneel.’

I got down on my knees and brought my hands together - he did not instruct me, I just did it. The tips of my fingers came against my lips. I kissed them softly and looked up to the image of the crucified Christ that hung behind the altar. The shaft of light still emanated from the shattered face of the bent figure. I screwed up my eyes against its glare. I knew I had to speak. I heard myself starting to confess.

‘I have to confess, Father, I know it.’

‘Yes, my child. Do not hold back. Admit the evil which is inside you. Recant the deeds that have led you down this terrible path.’

‘There is something in my mind, I cannot hold it back - ‘

‘Do not hold it back! That is what is causing the pressure inside you. Admit your sins, my child! Now is the time!’

‘Father, I will not hold back. I have the picture - ‘

‘Good! Good! Let the Lord share your vision!’

‘I see myself in the past, Father. I am at a table. There are guests, mostly men. He is there- at the head. He is sucking at a breast of chicken. I am watching from downcast eyes. I am giggling and he scowls at me. I know I shouldn’t have done it.’

‘Continue, my child. Already, I can hear it is part of your evil path. Maybe at the very start of your journey into sinfulness?’

‘Perhaps he thought I was being insolent. Perhaps I was. “A spanking for you, my girl!” he shouted out, just like that, in front of everyone. I went red with embarrassment as he bellowed at me. It was terrible! “Come here! Here! Come and stand by me! Your disrespect cannot be tolerated!”

‘I was shaking with fear. I got up from the table. Everyone’s eyes were on me. It was as though their stares were burning into my skin. “Here!” he shouted pointing to his side. “It is the only place where I can count on you to behave; where you are close enough for me to punish you!”

‘I stood beside him and hung my head. I was shaking all over by now. I clasped my hands in front of me and bit my lips. I was like a child at school. I looked up at him, hoping he would wave his hand and let me return to my seat. But this had never happened before - not like this, in front of so may people - and really I knew there was only worse ahead.

‘“Here, girl!” he shouted angrily.

‘He turned sideways on his chair and smacked his hand on his knee.

‘“Here! Across my knee! I will show you and our guests how I punish bad behaviour. You will not make a fool of me again. Your reddened bottom will remind you of that. And it will show our guests that I have not allowed such insolence, not at my table.”

‘I stepped forward nervously.

‘“Yes, here!” he shouted angrily. “Where you have bent before!”

‘I stumbled slightly as I bent down. I heard the guests laughing. I imagined them pointing at me - mocking me. I didn’t dare look up at them.

‘I had hardly started to bend over when he grabbed me and pulled me down. His hand pressed heavily against my back as he forced me down hard against his knees. I felt blood running to my head as it dropped below the level of the table top. My hair hung down across my face. Through its strands I could see the legs of the guests - some stretched out, some drawn up, some kicking and fidgeting with excitement. One man was rubbing his hand between his legs. I saw the growing erection of his bulging cock pressing against the material of his trousers. He started pulling down the zip.

‘The pressure of the hand against the small of my back increased. I was firmly pinned down. I kicked my legs hopelessly.

‘I felt my skirt being lifted. I knew everyone was looking at my bottom. I could imagine their craning necks and leering faces.

‘“Good and round!” he shouted.

‘He laughed and the guests joined in as helplessly I stared down the lines of legs beneath the table.

‘“Now, let’s all see what there is beneath these flimsy panties. Let my guests see the smooth skin that awaits my caressing hand.”

‘I felt his fingers inside the top edge of the waistband of my sheer white panties - I had chosen them specially to go with my pink skirt. I felt overcome with shame as they were revealed. I felt heat across my skin and the sudden coolness of the air as he peeled my panties down. They stayed up at the front, where I was squeezed against his knees, but he pulled the back down, snatching it a couple of times until my bottom was fully revealed. My face went red again. It was terrible. The tension of the gusset pulled at the flesh of my cunt. I knew it was moist. I knew it was hot. The pressure was painful. I wriggled to try and free it and he pressed his hand harder against the small of my back.

‘“And so pale!” he shouted out to the guests. “I don’t think we can tolerate that, can we? That wouldn’t be right would it?”

‘The guests roared their eager assent. “No! No! No!”

‘It seemed ages before anything happened. I stared between the legs under the table. Everything seemed silent - expectant, unknown, filled with a terrible foreboding. The man’s cock was now fully in view. He held it in his hand. It was stiff. I could see the veins throbbing along its shaft. I had never seen anything like it before. He ran his hand up it and its swollen end hardened and deepened in colour. I had a sudden image of it being in my mouth! In my mouth! I couldn’t believe what I was thinking!

‘Suddenly the breath was knocked from me. I did not shout out - the surprise, the violence of the blow was too great to allow me to react. His hand smacked down on my bottom again - flat, noisy, hurtful. Inside I shrieked, but no noise came from my lips. I stared down the lines of legs. The man was pulling his grasping hand quicker up and down the stiff shaft of his bulging cock.’

‘What next, my child?’ asked the priest. ‘Did the punishment continue? You must tell me.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘And was it hard to bear?’

‘I did not think I could bear it, Father. I thought I was going to die.’

‘Tell me, child, describe your sinfulness. Describe everything.’

‘I had hardly got my breath back when his hand came down again. It slapped noisily against my exposed bottom. It stung so much. It was sharp and burning. It penetrated me - stinging fire shooting through my nerves. That’s what it was like - flames; burning scorching flames. My mouth was wide open but still I had not screamed. It was as though all the pain was building up inside me, and I couldn’t let it out. Each time he smacked me, each time his punishing hand came down, each time I heard the smacking slap, I absorbed more pain, more stinging, more hurt. But each time it fell on my reddening skin, it just filled me, packed me full of suffering, plugged me up with anguish that could never escape. I know I was stretching my legs out, that they were tight. I know my buttocks were clenched. I know I was gripping his ankles - just for something to hold onto. And I know I was watching the man’s hand pulling harder and faster on his heavy throbbing cock.’

‘What did you think about?’ asked the priest, as he placed his hand on my bowed head. ‘As you were being punished, what did you think?’

‘The pain, Father, the exposure, the embarrassment, and the man’s cock - yes, the man’s cock, especially that. I admit it. I couldn’t get it out of my mind - the picture in my head of holding it in my mouth. That was all I could see in my mind. My lips pulled tightly around its pulsating veins, feeling them pounding. The idea of my tongue lapping against it, feeling its heat, sucking at it - that delectable swollen head - and drawing it against the back of my throat, was all I could think of. Oh, Father, it was terrible! And still I hadn’t screamed. Still I was stuffed full of it all.’

‘Continue, my child. Let it all come out.’

‘I thought I couldn’t stand any more of it. Spit was running from my mouth. I saw it dribbling down, sticking to my hair then running onto the floor. I stared down at the frothing sticky pool. He pressed my back harder and the smacking noise filled my head. Suddenly, without any warning, I screamed. It was more than just a scream - it was a yelping howl, like a wild animal. Spit sprayed from my mouth. “No! No! No!” I yelled. “Please! No! Please!” I begged. But he did not stop. I screamed even louder. I begged even more, and the spit splattered from my mouth in a foaming torrent, but it was only when he decided to end it did the punishment stop.

‘It was as though the whole world had gone silent. I felt the slackening pressure against my back as he lifted his pinioning hand away. The tension eased from my legs. I flopped limply over his knees. My bottom was burning. It was as though a fire had been lit deep inside me and it was consuming my whole body.

‘Slowly I heard the chatter of the guests coming back into my mind. The sense of embarrassment returned. He pushed me from his knees as though discarding something disgusting. I slumped on the floor. Tears were flooding from my eyes. He pushed his foot into my side and I rolled onto my back. My panties were now down as far as the middle of my thighs. My cunt was exposed. I felt distraught and completely humiliated.’

‘What next, my child?’ asked the priest. ‘That was not the end was it?’

‘No, Father, it was not. He kicked at me angrily. “You are not fit to sit with us!” he shouted. “Go and stand in the corner! There you can ponder your punishment. Go! Stand in the corner! We will all watch you walk to the wall in remorse, and when you face it we will judge whether you are truly repentant.”

‘I got up. Instinctively I started to pull up my panties but he told me to leave them where they were. “They will be a sign of your misbehaviour,” he said. I had never felt so humiliated.

‘I stood facing the wall, staring at it blankness, not daring to turn around, wondering what would happen to me next.’

‘And what did happen?’ asked the priest, now smoothing his hand softly across the top of my head and the back of my neck.

‘I don’t know how long I stood there - it seemed an eternity. It was not the first time he had made me do this - it was a regular punishment but never in front of people like this, never being degraded so publicly. I stood with my hands together in front of my naked cunt. I knew my bottom was red. I knew everyone could see it, and could see my humiliation. I knew my cunt was wet.’

‘You admit it, my child. You were finding pleasure in your punishment!’

‘Yes, Father. I knew it then, as I know it now. I must confess, I even feel the heat growing in me again as I tell the story. I wanted him to keep me there, in the corner. So much, I wanted it. I didn’t want to be released - ever. The longer I stood there - the longer I was forced to repent - the more my cunt moistened, the more I felt the pleasure from the burning pain in my bottom, the more I was thrilled by the mocking voices of the guests, and the more my mind filled with the images of the man’s cock. I felt myself dribbling but did not dare raise my hand and wipe the spit away in case I was seen. And yet, if I was, I thought, I would be punished more!’

‘Go on, my child, go on.’

‘In the end, he ordered me back to my seat. I went only slowly, now savouring the mocking glances of the guests, the humiliating exposure of my cunt, the degradation of my panties still pulled down around the tops of my thighs. It was a delectable walk of shame. Every slow stride squeezed the flesh of my cunt and brought with it shivers of penetrating joy.’

The priest took his hand from my head. It was as though a weight had been lifted.

‘Kiss the altar bar, my child. Now, look up at the picture of our Lord and spread out your arms along the rail as though you are, like him on the cross.’

I did as he instructed. I was a penitent, at last beginning the process of personal salvation from the evil which had stalked me for so long.

‘Now finish your story, my child. Release the tension that is within you.’

‘I walked along the length of the table and took my seat again. I squeezed in between two of the guests and pulled my chair forward. The seat was cold against my bottom. The flesh of my cunt, still wet with its moisture, squashed against the cold surface. It was like the chilling flame of ice to me - the shock of the coldness, the hard surface, the degradation, all conspired to set off a new burning of desire that started in the flesh of my cunt and spread like a fiery storm throughout my whole body.

‘I sat between the guests, my head hung down in shame. I saw straightaway that the man on my right was the man with his stiff cock in his hand. He grinned at me and turned slightly to show me what he was doing.’

‘Yes, my child, what then?’ asked the priest as he put his face down to mine. ‘What happened then?’

‘Father. I felt disgusted with myself. I wriggled my bottom on the hard cold seat of the chair. The flesh of my cunt squeezed against it and I felt the slipperiness of the moisture that was running from its hot centre. I swallowed hard. I picked up a knife from the table and straightway dropped it on the floor. “Sorry,” I said, feigning regret for something I had done on purpose. “Sorry.” I pretended to be flustered and bent down to reach the knife. I could just touch it and so I kicked it further away. “Sorry,” I said again, getting off the chair and kneeling to get under the table.’

‘Yes, my child, go on.’

‘As soon as I was under the table I leant my face towards the bulging end of the cock in the man’s hand. I felt its heat. I opened my mouth and licked out my tongue. I tasted it even before I touched it then it was in! At last, it was in my hungry mouth! I slurped on it. I dribbled frothing spit along its length, I sucked at it, I let my teeth grip the shaft, I closed my eyes and fed on it. I just wanted to consume it.

‘I knew I was kneeling in front of him, looking up at him, sucking on his throbbing hot cock, but I don’t know for how long. All I know was that I was thinking of nothing else, tasting nothing else, and smelling nothing else. I felt the swelling in the shaft as his semen started to well up its length. I tasted its salty tang as it erupted from the tip, and I felt the gluey liquid slipping down my throat as I swallowed on it hungrily. I hardly noticed being dragged out from beneath the table. I hardly noticed being hauled up in front of him again, and I hardly noticed them tying me down as he took off his belt and started lashing me with its hard strapping edge.

‘I felt the surge of ecstasy starting in me as the first blow fell but I held it back. As the cutting belt flailed me, as they held my arms wide and tore at my clothing, I held it back. I shuddered as it fought against me, as it struggled to escape captivity. Semen dripped from my mouth. I tried to roll over on my back so that the lashing strap would fall fully across my cunt, but they held me face down so that he could thrash me as hard as he wanted and until he was satisfied I could take no more. Only then, when he dropped the strap to the ground and stood back, did I finally let it go. I threw my head back and screamed. I went rigid as I yelped in ecstasy. My eyes bulged and spit flew from my mouth as, at last, my body was overcome by an orgasm so strong and lasting that it ended only when everything went black and I slumped to the ground unconscious.’

There was a pause.

I waited for the priest to speak, for him to tell me that my sins had been forgiven, that my being here, at Pacific Heights, was all a dreadful mistake. I waited to be told I was free.

At last he spoke.

‘You are insatiable, my child. You are a sinful demon. I can see you are not ready for any redemption I can offer. Christ sheds tears of pain for your sinfulness. I can do nothing for you. You will be taken from here for treatment, only after you have been cleansed can you return, and even then I can only hope there will be forgiveness for you.’

I felt my arms being held out wide. It was the two women, stretching me out, digging their long nailed fingertips deeply into my skin. I looked up at the picture of the crucified Christ. I imagined his tears falling onto my suffering prostrate body. I felt a fresh surge of heat in my cunt.

The sharp talons of the women’s nails dug deeper. I stared up at the limp figure of Christ, my shoulder blades stretched, my neck bent backwards, my nipples throbbing.

Suddenly, there was an unseen hand pulling at the waistband of my panties. It ripped them down in one quick yank. I pulled myself up as much as I could against the restraining hand at my wrists. The material of the gusset of my panties pulled harshly at the soft flesh of my cunt. The pain increased the heat I felt in my crack. Another yank of the material brought another surge of pain. I bit my lips as a rush of heat passed over me like a sudden tropical wind.

I knew it was a belt of some sort - perhaps the priest’s black fascia that had been tied around his waist? It lashed across my buttocks and I screamed. The next one caught me on the hips as it flicked around before being snatched away. I heard him grunting with the effort as he brought it down again and I raised my bottom up to it, waiting eagerly to receive the next, hoping that it would be harder, more painful, more searing.

I stared at the altar. The candlesticks glittered beneath the flickering light of the spluttering candles. I was hypnotised by their light as one after another the cutting blows came down on my upturned naked buttocks. I saw contorted images of the women who held me reflected in the shiny silver surfaces of the candlesticks. I saw how tightly they restrained me, how eager they were to stretch me out for punishment. I saw their grinning faces, their exposed teeth and the smearing redness of blood across their chins. Suddenly, I saw another figure - fleeting, like a phantom, dark and shadowy, moving behind them, stretching his arm up high behind me. I could not see his face - it was as though it was obliterated like the face of the figure in the broken stained glass window. Another blow came down and I saw it was him - this faceless man - who was dealing out my punishment. I tried to convince myself that it was the priest - I was more comfortable with the thought that it was, but I knew it was not. No, it was not the priest. It was the man in the dark striped suit!

I opened my eyes and found myself again outside the chapel door. It was cobweb covered, bolted and chained. I was naked. I shivered with cold. I banged on the door as much in a gesture of hopelessness as anything else. Suddenly, the chains fell from it and the heavy bolt drew back by itself. It opened with a creak. There was no one inside. I called out. There was no reply. I walked up to the altar and dropped to my knees. I looked up at the crucified figure of Christ. The candles spluttered - threatening to go out. I smelled incense. I saw a shadow of something in the darkness. It looked like a hand - just a hand, no form with it, no body, no figure.

The hand drifted behind the altar. The candles spluttered more. I was filled with fear. I bit hard on my lips. For a moment, I thought the figure of Christ moved. The hand appeared in front of me. It slapped my face - suddenly, without any warning, for no reason. I reeled back and dropped to my hands and knees. The hand moved around me in silence. I looked behind me. It hovered above my bottom. I knew what I wanted.

‘Punish me,’ I said. ‘As hard as possible. Make me cry. Make me scream. Make me plead for more. Punish me.’

I closed my eyes and dropped my face to the ground. I started licking the stone floor as the hand came down across my bottom. I kept licking as it thrashed me hard. I did not move. I only tightened a little more each time I felt the contact of the punishing dismembered hand.

I do not know how long it went on. I was licking in a pool of my own spit as it continued. Even when I toppled onto my side, I turned my face and kept licking. I felt like a punished animal sipping at its bowl. I felt myself judder a few times - heavy, quaking jolts - but I was not sure if it was ecstasy or agony. I held my breath for a long while and when I breathed in again it felt like it would never end - I thought I would explode. All the time, the hand thrashed me - for my sins, for my bliss, for my need for more.

It did not seem to end - there was no moment when I realised it had stopped - all I knew was that I was crawling back along the corridor outside the chapel. Every one of my nerve endings was on fire, spit ran from my mouth, and every time I brought my knee forward it squeezed my cunt and I was sent into another shock of delight. I felt completely dissipated, completely degraded, completely overcome with pleasure.

It was night. I was still on my hands and knees leaning against the side of the corridor. I heard a voice.

‘Syra? What are you doing here? Let me help you up. Oh dear, you do look in a state. What have you been doing?’

I tried to speak but nothing came out.

Caroline draped my arm over her shoulder.

I tried again.

‘It was just a hand,’ I whimpered. ‘Just a hand. It thrashed me. Just a hand.’

The sunrise projected sharp red talons of light through the high windows in the corridor.

Caroline did not reply. I looked at her face. It was paler than usual. She looked afraid. I felt her fear and suddenly, as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

I felt myself drop to the ground. Again, I felt the smacking hand against my bottom. I saw the altar with the candlesticks and the picture of the crucified Christ. One of his tears dripped onto my open lips. I licked at its saltiness. No, it had not yet ended. My punishment was still going on!