Purity and Punishment Ch. 03

The confessions are usually pretty lame: Wearing make-up or feeling funny while watching Justin Bieber but occasionally you get a juicy one and that's a good guide to who might succumb to my charms. I see Peter, tall, thin, serious, awkwardly raising his hand and I feel a bit sick: it's unusual for one of the boys to confess anything. Surely he's not going to own up to that blowjob I gave him behind the church hall, is he?

"Yes Peter?" Grayling beams a patronising smile as though she's talking to a particularly stupid child.

"I have a confession to make," Peter blurts out, "I," he shoots a glance my way, "I masturbated yesterday." There's a shocked intake of breath from some of the Ringers. Grayling's line: Masturbation is a sin, same as sex. Fiona's making a theatrical show of fanning herself with her hands, pulling shocked expressions at anyone who'll look her way. I want to slap her right across her stupid little doll face. Poor Peter knows what's coming and so do the rest of us.

"You know what you have to do then, Peter," Grayling hisses from her pinched little mouth.

"Yes, Miss Grayling," Peter nods. He gets up and slowly walks across the room to face the portrait of Jesus. "Dear Lord and Father, I confess, I am sorry that I have defiled the body you gave me with this sinful act of wickedness. I will atone for my sin and I beg that you forgive me."

"Six," hisses Grayling as Peter opens the cupboard under the portrait of Jesus. He gets out a short length of cane, about a metre, with a leather handle wrapped around one end. "Turn to face us," says Grayling and Peter turns around to face the group, the cane held in one hand. "When you are ready, Peter," says Grayling in an eerily flat tone.

"I atone for my sins and I beg forgiveness," says Peter, swinging his arm around his back. He shoots me a glance and then winces as the cane lands hard on his bottom. Most of the boys know how to fake a good thrashing without hurting themselves too much but it looks like Peter's really going to go for it.

"Again," snaps Grayling.

"I atone for my sins," says Peter and brings the cane down upon himself. Again he looks my way: I can't bear to watch this, Peter's eyes are deep and sorrowful like Christ on the cross. Again and again Grayling makes him thrash himself.

Fucking hell, Peter: just for one blowjob? You're not going to survive this world with that sort of guilt-complex. I'd like to run up, snatch the cane from him, bring it down across Grayling's face or her plump little arse but it wouldn't save Peter, he's on his own up there. I look away. Was this really my fault? Poor boy just wasn't ready. I'd find him and apologize afterwards but I'm sure he won't come near me now. A shame, I had big plans for him.

Camilla gives my hand a little squeeze. She might be pretty icy, Camilla, but she's not made of stone and she knows I'm feeling bad about Peter.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by Fiona squawking, "Miss Grayling! Maxille and Camilla..." she checks herself, "Maxille grabbed hold of Camilla's hand!" She knows better than to implicate Camilla: you don't fuck with blue blood.

"Maxille Stone, get up here at once!" screeches Grayling. Shit, not tonight, not in front of Ashley. Grayling will kick me out if I give her the barest excuse. I'm pretty sure it's only the thought of getting at Dad's money that keeps me in The Ring. Calm, Maxi, calm. Take your punishment, keep it low key, sit back down.

"Miss Grayling, it was just a gesture of friendship. We were shocked by Peter's confession," I say. I feel really bad saying this and I try to shoot Peter a reassuring glance but he's staring, stone-faced, out of the window.

"I know what you were up to, you dirty, dirty girl," she pronounces the word 'dirty' really oddly like she's enjoying the taste of it in her mouth. I don't want to argue any more, I should just take a punishment to get this over with as quickly as possible: the longer the Ringers see me standing up here being chastised for being a dirty girl, the more chance of them figuring they weren't the only ones seduced by me and Camilla.

I'm uneasy though; Grayling's clearly had her suspicions about me for a long time, why's she choosing tonight to call me out on something as minor as hand-holding? I'd better take whatever punishment she's got lined up: surely it's just going to be a few Hail-Marys or a slap on the wrist. I step over to her.

"Miss Grayling?" I say in my best dumb innocent voice.

"Bend over my knee," she orders.

"But Miss Grayling..."

"Do as I say!" she barks. Everyone's staring with rapt attention; it's been a few weeks since she's given out a spanking so they're all silently baying for blood: everyone secretly loves a bout of ritual humiliation; it's the closest most of this lot get to sex. I bend over Grayling's knee, cautiously as though she's a cactus.

"Head down! Hands on the floor!" she orders and pushes my head down so that I slip helplessly onto her thigh. I can hear her heart beating with excitement at the humiliation she's about to dole out. "Bottom in the air," she says and I awkwardly try to push my bum up while keeping my head down, trying to stop my little schoolgirl shoes from sliding on the floor.

Camilla warned me about the spankings when she brought me to The Ring, how Grayling would pick out one of the girls whenever she needed to let off steam. I close my eyes and wait for the worst.

Grayling lifts up my skirt over my back and pulls the little white cotton panties down to my ankles. I try not to give her the pleasure of feeling me shiver but I can feel the cold of the draughty church hall on my bum. The room is silent apart from the hum of the fluorescent lighting.

"Fiona, will you come up and help me here?" My eyes open in shock. This is a new one, Grayling getting Fiona in on the punishment. Fiona leaps up, delighted to score brownie points with Grayling and add to my humiliation.

"Maxille, you are a reckless, foolish little girl. You may not care if you fall into a life of sin but you should think about the effect your careless behaviour will have on others," she pauses here, the strongest rebuke she dare aim at Camilla, who's sitting poker-faced. "It may be just hand-holding today but it can lead to...all sorts of unpleasantness! Now say you are sorry!"

Grayling is sat side on, making me face the crowd. At least they can't see my pussy peaking between my legs. I hope I'm not blushing too much. They're all staring at me: Little Molly who I taught to eat pussy in the boathouse at Camilla's, Michael who loved to suck on my nipples. They all know what a naughty girl I am and they're all more or less keen to see me get my punishment. Even Camilla's biting her lip, trying not to laugh, only Peter's still looking out the window.

"I'm sorry," I say and with this Grayling lands a slap on my bum. It hurts but in a weird, warm tingling sort of way, like a warm, dull ache spreading out from around her hand. If I wasn't being humiliated in front of everyone, I might even enjoy it a bit.

The next spanking is Fiona's, lighter but more stinging, she's inexperienced at this and she's slapping at my bum instead of bringing it down hard like Grayling. "I'm sorry," I say. Then Grayling. Then Fiona again.

"Wicked little hussy!"

SLAP

"I'm sorry,"

"Dirty little slut!"

SLAP

"I'm sorry,"

"Jezebel!"

It seems like forever, spanking me sore up under the bright lights in front of everyone. My bottom must be going bright pink. I say I'm sorry again and again until my voice is hoarse but I won't cry, I won't let them do that to me. It's hard though, they've got one cheek each and they're working in tandem to keep the pain up.

Grayling knows what she's doing, landing on the exact same place, just as the pain from the previous blow is starting to spread. Fiona's worked up a bit of technique now too but what really hurts is that I've let that silly little bitch get one over on me: knowing how much she must be enjoying my humiliation.

After the fifteenth or sixteenth blow, I think I might crack, I'm biting my tongue to hold back the tears. Grayling's really getting into it, I can hear her gasping for breath, heart pounding away and I want to beg them to stop but then I notice something: Ashley's looking at me, not at my face, but leaning to one side, trying to look at my poor pink bum. Her eyes are dilated, dark and round. I start to have an idea.