Zekiel Felcher, Pastor Zeke to his 100-strong congregation of the Church of the Holy Retribution, was a tall, severe-looking man of sixty-two years. As he drove down the hard, bumpy dirt road in his 1956 4-door Plymouth sedan, he nodded dutifully to the parishioners, unmindful of the dust his vehicle stirred as he raced by. Normally on the Sabbath he would walk to church with Lillian, his wife of 40-odd years, and their 17 year old daughter, Mary. The four- mile walk was, according to him, comfort to the heart and soul. However, on this particular Sunday, Pastor Zeke needed to get to the church ahead of his congregation.
As Scripture clearly stated, at least those passages to which Holy Retribution members ascribed, the third Sabbath of each month was Cleansing Day, and the occasion required preparation. But events had conspired against him. Both family and parish duties had prevented him from readying things the night before, and now he had to rush to put things in order. Hurrying about always put Pastor Zeke into an especially foul mood.
Pastor Zeke pulled up behind the small white church hidden among the trees and parked in the place reserved for him. He left the car and hastily walked to the backdoor. Flipping through his ring of keys, he found the one he wanted, and rattled the key into the lock. The door squeaked as the preacher pushed it open.
Reaching inside to the left of the door, he found the lightswitch and flipped on the hallway lights. He then stepped inside, checking to make sure the door locked behind him.
From the hallway he made his way with determined steps to the closet directly behind the pulpit. He found the key for it, and after unlocking it, stood on his toes to gather up the red cloth neatly folded on the top shelf. Pastor Zeke then searched his key ring for the smallest key he had, and when he located it, he stooped down and unlocked the chest on the floor of the closet. He rummaged through the contents of the chest until he had locked all four shackles. From the back wall of the closet he removed two instruments from their hooks, a black wooden paddle with the pattern of a cross cut in it and a tawse.
Pastor Zeke locked up and set about preparing for Cleansing Day.
The entire congregation that had been quietly buzzing for the last fifteen minutes, rose to its feet at the first sound of the door behind the pulpit opening. In silence, the austere leader of the Church of the Holy Retribution walked to his place before his flock.
"May God be with each of you, brothers and sisters," their spiritual leader bellowed, rattling the chandeliers.
"And with you Brother Felcher," answered the congregation.
The holy man stood mentally taking attendance and checking each missing parishioner off against a ledger firmly etched in his mind. There would be retribution for those not accounted for.
"Today," began the man of cloth, "is Cleansing Day, the day that those who have strayed from the flock are returned to the fold. It is a glorious day for God has given us this day to cleanse the sinners among us so that they might be saved and returned to righteousness.
"Today two lost souls will come before us and ask to receive God's retribution so as to be cleansed in His eyes. God is Love, and in His eternal wisdom, He has made it possible for His children, children who have temporarily wandered from the flock, to renew His love on Cleansing Day."
"Praise God and his mercy," responded the assembly.
"Brother William Matthews, step before God and his people."
As the last words were spoken, the door to the right of the altar opened, and a boy of about eight, dressed in a white robe, was escorted to the side of Pastor Zeke, who had stepped down to the raised altar, by a church elder. It was obvious by the way the boy shook, that he was frightened.
Placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, the preacher spoke. "Brother William, tell God and the congregation why you stand before them."
"I have . . . I have come before God . . . before God. . ." The boy trembled both in fear of what lie ahead and with dread of how it might be worse for him if he failed to say things just as he was instructed. ". . . and His people to ask that I be cleaned . . . cleansed of my sins so that . . . so that I can . . . may be again pure in . . . in His eyes."
"I called my little Sister Sheila bad names."
"And who stands before God as His instrument of cleansing?" asked the pastor, looking into the gathering without seeing.
"I do. His father," answered a small, stocky man in the front row. As he stood and walked to the front, the young girl beside him gloated.
"Prepare to be cleansed," Pastor Zeke announced as much to the parish as to the boy. As the boy pulled the small bench end-wise toward the congregation, his father was given the paddle and sat on the bench. His son stood, his back to the flock, and waited.
Pastor Zeke walked behind the boy and raised the back of his robe, tying it in place. He then walked in front of the boy, reached under his robe, and unhooked his belt, releasing his slacks, which then fell to the floor. Last, the trembling boys underpants were pulled down, now exposing his bare bottom to the congregation. They sat silently.
Walking to the side, the pastor announced, "Five."
The boy then took the few steps necessary to reach his father, and draped himself across his lap, his exposed bottom raised for all to see.
Crack! The paddle landed noisily across the small boy's defenceless bottom, and he immediately cried like a baby. Crack! The boy's butt rocked from the impact, and his howls filled the room. Crack! The paddle landed with greater impact, lifting the child up, his kicking legs having sent his slacks and underpants flying. Crack! The boy's ass was now totally red and his father was having trouble holding him in place. Crack! The final swat brought the boy to uncontrollable sobbing as he moved violently around on his father's lap.
Pastor Zeke took the crying child from his father's lap and walked him to the left of the altar where he was expected to stand, bottom still exposed, for the remainder of the service. While this was being done, the father moved the bench back and placed the paddle on the on it.
"Sister Shirley Anderson, step before God and his people."
The door to the right of the altar opened, and a young woman of about twenty, her red hair spilling over her shoulders onto the white robe she wore, was escorted to the side of Pastor Zeke, who had returned to the center. Even in the robe she was obviously shapely, and the expression on her face revealed defiance.
Placing his hand on the woman's shoulder, the preacher spoke. "Sister Shirley, tell God and the congregation why you stand before them."
"I have come before God and His people to ask that I be cleansed of my sins so that I may be again pure in His eyes," she stated without emotion. The assembly mumbled their disapproval of this woman's lack of contrition. But they'd seen it before in those who had never before been cleansed. The miracle of the Cleansing would erase her sinful blemish.
"And who stands before God as His instrument of cleansing?" asked the pastor, looking into the gathering without seeing.
"I do. Her husband," answered the tall, dark haired man in the front row. He stood and walked to the front.
"Prepare to be cleansed," Pastor Zeke announced. The young woman turned from the congregation and walked to the center prayer bar.
She bent and grabbed a hold of each of the grips placed in such a way as to position her for her cleansing. As she did so, the husband was given the tawse. He positioned himself to the left of his wife while Pastor Zeke finished preparing his wife for her salvation. First he locked the bent woman's wrists to the handgrips, and then, being careful that she was positioned properly, secured her ankles in the shackles bolted to the floor. Once he was satisfied that he had her positioned correctly, legs spread and bottom raised suitably, Pastor Zeke walked behind the sinner.
The preacher pulled up the back of the robe, revealing that the young woman wore only panties beneath it. Her bottom responded to its exposure by pulling in slightly. Pastor Zeke tied the robe in place and stepped back to examine his work. He was in no hurry for the cleansing to commence. He was well aware that the preparation was as important as the actual flogging. As he looked upon Sister Shirley's panty-covered bottom, he mentally noted how nicely developed it was. He envied her husband as the young woman wiggled her bottom at the assembly, in anticipation or contempt it was not clear. God's servant cleared the covetous thoughts from his head and slowly drew Sister Shirley's panties down her shapely thighs, past her knees, and let them slide to her ankles. Pastor Zeke was not insensible to the soft contours of the healthy woman's ass or the fine orangish down that peeked out from between her outspread thighs. Ready, he stood to her right.
"10," announced the man of God. His attention then returned to the young woman's bared bottom.
Her husband shifted his feet, assuming a position conducive to his wife's cleansing, and as he did so, Sister Shirley ever-so slightly shifted her exposed bottom uneasily.
Shirley had broken God's law. Wes was very angry for what she had done. He really didn't want to hurt her, but she had to be brought back to the path of righteousness. He viewed their marriage vows as a sacred covenant with God; it was now his duty as her husband to help bring her to repentance before she was forever condemned to hell.
As he lifted the tawse to strike her for the first time, he noticed her head turned toward him and the pleading look on her face that seemed to say, "Please, let's get this over with quickly". Wes complied with his lovely wife's wishes by bringing the raised tawse sharply down on her bare bottom. Shirley jumped violently and screamed instinctively as the instrument stung both of her taut ass cheeks. The pain was beyond anything she'd ever felt or imagined, and as the initial searing pain subsided, suddenly all she could think of was getting herself free from the restraints. The curves of her buttocks shifted and quaked provocatively from the effort.
At the sight of the raw-appearing welt left on his wife's alluringly quivering bottom, God's avenging angel continued his appointed task of bringing Shirley to repentance with heightened fervour. He was determined to make the tawse bite into the soft, white flesh of Shirley full, rounded bottom. Whack! Whack! The tawse cut into the helplessly outstretched ass of the weeping woman first in one direction and then the other. The pain was so excruciating that only her restraints prevented her from falling to her knees. Whack! Wes answered her shrieks with another forceful lash across both of her now red-streaked cheeks as they jolted from side to side uncontrollably in a fruitless attempt to avoid the burning cut of the torturous tawse.
"Owwwww! Oh my God, please stop! Please!", she begged.
"Suffering is good for the soul", counselled Pastor Zeke. "Cleanse her spirit, Lord. Free this woman of her iniquity".
As Wes placed his hands on Shirley's hips to steady her bottom, he felt the hot crescents of her shining, welt-covered bottom. For the first time he felt God'd presence in the form of a stirring in his groin. He praised his God and let fall another sharp blow. He grew harder as a fresh welt appeared on the lower portion of each of his wife's cheeks. The cut across those tenderest portion of her ass made the sinner writhe in even greater misery.
Again Wes brought down the tawse in quick succession. Swish. Crack! Yeoww! Swish. Crack! Yeoww! Swish! Crack! Yeoww! It was clear to the mesmerized assembly that they were witnessing a miracle. Wes, Shirley and God in holy communion
"Please forgive me, please forgive me, I will never do it again" screamed the young sinner, lost in a frenzied religious experience. Her bottom moved about in a lively dance to unheard music.
Wes knew he had to seal her promise with his final blows. He was going to drive the point home that he was in control and she would obey! The swelling in his groin told him this was all as God had planned. "Women be subject to your husbands as Adam is subject to God", Wes recited softly as he once again lashed at Sister Shirley's tortured ass. Crimson droplets of blood appeared for the first time along a severe-looking welt, a divine tear shed for God's perfect love.
Pastor Zeke nodded to Wes, indicating that he was about to deliver the tenth and final blow. Wes was determined to finish the Cleansing on a high note. Her upper thighs, he noticed, were unmarked. He directed his last lacerating blow for her alabaster, untouched thighs.
"Oh my God, Wesley," she screamed in defeat, "please forgive me." "Forgive me, God," she prayed as a fierce welt appeared across her otherwise milky thighs. Shirley knew she had to give into God's laws, it was the only way for her to be with Wes in heaven. It was the only way to avoid His wrath. She bowed her head and fell silent in final submission.
Pastor Zeke stepped forward and gestured toward Shirley's red, welt-stricken bottom and beseeched the congregation to pray, "Let us all praise God for the repentance this cleansing has brought!" The room fell silent.
"Now Wesley, it is up to you to anoint your humbled wife with the the Lord's nectar. That which she soiled you must now purge of all impurities as God intended. Has God filled you with His spirit so that you may fulfil his will?"
"Reveal God's wonder so that we, your brothers and sisters, may bear witness to the Lord's omnipotence."
As instructed, Wes unzipped his slacks and allowed his stiff member to stand as testimony to God's word. Those in the first four rows could attest to the Lord's power, confirmed by the thick, blue veins that stood out along Wes' elongated staff. The church air was filled with electricity.
"Before Sister Shirley's flesh can be purged of the taint of another man's seed, she must pay tribute to that by which she can be cleansed." Pastor Zeke then walked to the silent victim and unshackled her bonds. With his steadying assistance, the young wife wobbled into position, kneeling before her husband. Needing no further instructions, Shirley placed her mouth over the tip of Wes' blood-engorged penis. Her moist lips and spittle lubricated his manhood as her right hand paid homage to its lengthy shaft.
As the dutiful young woman prepared her husband for the final stage of her cleansing, Pastor Zeke quietly moved the bench in place.
"Oh my God," Wes groaned as his wife's mouth made his rod grow in size and rigidity. As if his moan was an answer to prophesy, Shirley released Wes' erect penis. It sprang from between her wet lips, and as she turned and placed her hands down on the bench, Wes was close behind, ready to part her thighs with his hands. He stabbed anxiously between her legs until finally the tip of his stem met with the pink, damp opening of her sex.
His initial thrust was met with an answering thrust of her lacerated bottom. Wes shuttered as he slid into her to the hilt. He felt his wife squeeze down on his hard tool of purification. He grabbed her hips and began wildly plunging his erection in and out of her.
"Ahhh," Shirley gasped as her husband's penis banged at her drooling orifice. "Ohhh, Wesley," she screamed as she wiggled her bottom in concert with the darting of his staff. "Wesley!"
It was a race to the finish. Slap. Slap. Slap. Wes' flesh slapped wetly against Shirley's sweating cheeks. "Oh, honey . . . Oh, honey. . . Oh, honey," the young woman, lost in passion, whimpered as she tried to keep her vessel moving as rapidly as were her husband's increasingly violent strokes. The assembly was mesmerized by the glorious sight of husband and wife, joined as God intended.
"Ahgr . . ." Wesley suddenly came with a force that only Shirley could appreciate. His juice gushed into her pulsating canal in dual jets, and then quickly the Holy Spirit departed from him.
Shirley's welt-streaked ass, however, was still actively gyrating, trying, along with her throbbing slit, to resurrect her husband's retreating member. It was an exercise in futility, for as she continued to shake her bottom enticingly, his soft, lethargic penis slipped out of her.
While his young wife continued thrashing in a plea to have her passionate appetite satisfied, Wes stepped back, his limp tool dangling spiritlessly before him. Pastor Zeke stepped forward, and like a cymbalist puncuating the end of a musical composition, forcefully placed one final stripe across the now-saved ass of Sister Shirley Anderson. Wwwwhapp! The leather tawse slapped wetly across the reddened hemispheres of her quivering flesh.
"Aaaaaaaaaughhh!", she howled as unimaginable, burning pain mingled simultaneously with the glorious pleasure of a monumental orgasm. Shirley sank to her knees and thanked her God for leading her to this new vision of His magnificent wisdom.
Pastor Zeke allowed Shirley a moment to commune with her maker and then he lifted her to her feet and led her to the far corner of the room to stand beside the young boy whose own bare bottom continued to bear witness to God's love.
"Praise the Lord, another saved soul!", he exclaimed. Sister Shirley leant heavily forward, heedless of the manner in which her raw bottom was displayed to the congregation. At that moment, her thoughts centered elsewhere.