Atonement Ch 4
The storefront office of The Revelation Church of Atonement was scrunched
between an H&R Block and a Starbucks on upper Connecticut Ave. An attractive
brunette in a long dress rose to greet me.
"Hello, can I help you, Mr, ah..."
"DeForest Doohan," I said with a weak smile.
"Yes...Mr Doohan," she beamed, "how can we help you?"
"I guess I want to know more about the Church," I said trying to look
guilt-ridden. It wasn't hard.
"Well, please have a seat here and let me tell you all about us. In the Bible
the Book of Revelations makes clear that all must atone before the great
coming..."
Of who, I thought? Ghozer? It was weird right off the bat. She prattled on about
the need to atone for past misdeeds and how the Church could help one achieve
"cleansing". She talked about how we all carry this dread weight of guilt
around. Things that began in childhood, some long forgotten, and that what we
all lack is a means of purging that guilt.
"...so through a series of guilt relief sessions with our trained Confessors you
can begin to cleanse the awful load of bad feelings that you have carried since
childhood. If you progress you may wish to join us at our communal retreat
center. Our retreat center is located in beautiful natural surroundings..."
It sounded like some goofy mix of Catholic confession, psychotherapy, new age
religion and a 12 step group.
"...you would meet with a counselor of our church, called a "Confessor" to talk
about your past at first, then we can begin to map out a program for atoning for
sins. We are all sinful, Mr Doohan, and..."
"This retreat center, where is it?" I interrupted.
"Uh...it's in Goshen, West Virginia, a really lovely spot..."
Hmmm....Trey would have gone right through there with Libby and the two other
girls on the way to Spruce Knob. I'd been to Goshen, a typical small farming
town that was also the county seat.
"...and our initial sessions are inexpensive, but you must go through this phase
before you are eligible to attend one of our retreat seminars. We take all major
credit cards."
"Well, gee...I don't know. You say first I confess everything, then..."
"Yes. You must empty yourself. Totally. Every bad thing you have ever done."
"How many sessions does this take?"
"Oh it can take several weeks, perhaps months, of soul searching, but the path
to cleansing is not an easy one," she said with a serious tone.
I nodded. "I can see that. Then at the retreat center, what happens there?"
"It would not be good for us to jump ahead to that. You must be ready, first."
"Ok, well, thanks. I don't know right now..." I said my voice trailing off.
She smiled. "That's all right, Mr Doohan. Many are unsure at first. But do not
wait too long 'for ye know not the day nor the hour'."
"Uh...yeah, well, bye. And thanks." I gave her a wimpy wave and left.
***************************************************************
I met Allison back at the hotel. She had gone to the church storefront in
Georgetown.
"...and they want me to come to this retreat center of theirs for a weekend and
they'll pay for it. And they have openings now. She made it sound like some
loving family or a sorority...to help me purge the guilt...and take care of me.
I guess I came across as some lost waif. They wanted to take me in--like right
now."
I told Allison how different my story was. The whole thing made me more curious
than ever. Let's see, a guy walks in and they want to have him sign up for
expensive sessions with a "Confessor", then maybe somewhere down the line he
goes to this retreat center, but a gorgeous babe like Allison strolls in and
it's off to the retreat center right now. Then again, someone on the inside
might be very useful. I knew I had to report back to Henry right away.
Henry beat me to it. The phone rang. An excited Henry babbled breathlessly.
"Rollin, thank God. Listen, something has happened to Libby. I got a call from
Mary Beth's parents. The girls, as best I can piece it together are in...in
jail." He was frantic with worry in his voice.
"Slow down, Henry. In jail where?"
"In Goshen, West Virginia."
"What were they charged with?"
"This is the unbelievable part. Soliciting for prostitution."
That was unbelievable. Three college girls on a camping trip, stopping off in a
small town to peddle their asses?
"Look, Henry, I'm licensed in West Va. I'll get down there. In the meantime get
some cash together. We'll need bail. Don't worry, this is all some gigantic
misunderstanding. I'll sort it out."
I said reluctant goodbyes to Allison and jumped in the car. It was late in the
day and I probably couldn't do much until morning. The drive to Goshen took four
hours. It was late when I got in. I remembered only cheap mom and pop motels
from my salad days, but here was a brand new upscale lodge from a major chain.
Odd for a town this size in the middle of nowhere.
****************************************************************
The jail was a brand new concrete and glass building along the river south of
town. In fact everything in the town looked brand new, like all of a sudden
there had been an infusion of money. I opted for a small diner to have breakfast
in, like one the locals might use. A friendly waitress with plastic rimmed
glasses and big hair was not shy about telling me all about changes in the town.
"Those church folk came in here and things really took off. Built a new high
school, civic hall, and that park on the river. Real nice people. Keep to
themselves, though. That compound of theirs is up on Panther Ridge, up where
those DC people used to have summer cabins. Tore 'em all down, built that
center. They've been good for the town though, so I guess the powers that be
leave 'em alone to do their thing--whatever it is."
"You been up there?"
"Lord, no. You just can't go up there. It's guarded and everything."
I considered this as I headed for the county lockup. The town seemed clean,
bright and prosperous. Had building that retreat center pumped that much money
into the economy? One thing was sure, if the attitude of my waitress that
morning was any indication. The town liked the money that came from the
Revelation Church of the Atonement and were content not to ask too many
questions.
At reception at the Pendleton County Correctional Center, I encountered a portly
desk sergeant who seemed to be in charge.
"I represent Libby Mason. I understand she is here in custody and has been
charged with a crime. I'd like to see my client."
"Well, I'd let you see her, young feller," he drawled, " but truth is, she ain't
here."
"I was told she was in custody."
"She ain't here now. She was released from our custody."
What the hell? "Released to whom?"
"Them church people arranged it--took her out last night. Plea bargain deal. Her
friends weren't so lucky. They were tried. Found guilty. Sentenced to 90 lashes
each, the little pullets," he chuckled. "In fact, they get the first 30 this
mornin'. It's quiet around here today, so I tell you what--you act as civilian
witness--regs say we got to have one--and you can talk to 'em afterwards. If
they feel like talkin' that is. I imagine all they gonna be doin' for awhile is
cryin' their pretty eyes out. They're gonna get a right smart whippin' this
morning." He shoved a form at me. "Fill this out, and we'll take you to the
Corner--that's what we call it. They're going to carry out the sentence
directly."
I hastily filled out the form. "How are they to be punished? And when was this
trial?" I said impatiently. This didn't sound like due process--though it was
well known that in the wake of various states' corporal punishment
initiatives--many out of the way places dispensed rough justice, without much
regard for constitutional niceties.
"Whoa there..er...Mr Hand," he said noting my name. "First off, the trial was
held in special session two days ago. They had the public defender. They were
found guilty. Second, what they get is the 5 tail cat--it's a whip with 5
thongs--we call it the "pussy cat", right across their bare little tails. Now
here's Bobby Sue," he said, nodding to a hefty unifomed middle aged matron
approaching the desk. "Take Mr Hand here to the witness viewing area in the
Corner."
"Come with me, Mr Hand." I walked with her down a corridor then out across an
interior yard over toward a block-like structure in the corner of the yard. She
chatted as we walked.
"Yeah, can you believe it? These little madames comin' down here for the weekend
and trying to pick up our men and lure them to sin. Well we have a cure for
that--a red hot bottom, that's what. They'll think twice now before they ply
their tricks in this county."
"Ah, can I ask...if you know...what exactly was the evidence that they were, um,
soliciting?"
"Why, the complaint was made by Earl Judson, a fine upstanding man, a deacon at
my church. They were out on the road thumbin' a ride and Earl picked 'em up.
Next thing you know they want to do all kinds of things to Earl--for money.
Well, Earl didn't take 'em where they was goin'. Brought them back here and told
the sheriff. He locked them up so fast their heads was spinnin'. Now I think a
good old fashioned whippin' will teach them a thing or two. Here we are. We call
this the Corner. It's our disciplinary block."
The Corner was a high ceilinged building, very utilitarian. There was a glass
partition for spectators and some chairs. Inside the glass was a large chamber,
maybe 30' by 40'. There were two fixtures that looked like a type of exercise
apparatus. One was an inclined frame that was narrow, like an easel affixed to a
vertical post. It had a pair of rails joined at the apex and flaring out toward
the ground to about a foot apart. There was an adjustable padded crosspiece
between the rails and what were buckling straps for wrists and ankles at
appropriate heights. The other device was a low bench with a cylindrical bolster
in the middle and a series of straps for securing a person face down. There were
leather straps and multithonged whips of various lengths hanging from pegs on
the wall. The room was obviously used as a storeroom, too. There were boxes and
cartons of stuff all around along with building materials and rolls of carpeting
stacked along one end. The lighting was incandescent which gave the interior the
look of a gloomy shed, refitted for the grim purpose of punishment.
I could hear voices approaching from a corridor at an opposite wall. They were
frantic high-pitched voices and they were pleading and protesting.
"Please no, we didn't do anything. This is a big mistake. WE didn't solicit
anything...please believe me...that man...he is lying."
"Yes, look, we were just on a camping trip...no please..."
Two attractive girls, each about twenty or nineteen were hustled into the room
on the arms of a matron in the garb of a sheriff's deputy. Their hands were
cuffed behind their backs. They wore nothing but underwear, full cut white
panties and white tank tops. Apparently they'd been prepared for the whipping
back at their cells. One was tall with long light brown hair, the other was a
short busty blonde with big blue eyes. Both were pretty. The brunette had long
legs and was slim-waisted with narrow hips. The blonde was more voluptuous but
had a pinched waist, wide flaring hips and athletic, almost stocky, legs.
The girls quailed visibly and sagged at the knees when they saw the dull black
padded whipping frame, now bathed in light from overhead spotlights, and the
rack of implements on the wall.
"Oh, no," wailed the blonde, "Oh my God...don't do this to us."
The guards paid no attention. This was routine. Another day at the office.
A man in a rumpled uniform entered, along with another female deputy and a tall
athletic-looking younger woman dressed in a workout suit like a gym teacher's.
She looked big and well-muscled, like she lifted weights. She had on shorts and
a sleeveless blouse; sturdy Reeboks with good traction. She's the whipper, I
thought. Yep, she walked over to the wall and studied the rack of flagellation
devices, finally selecting a whip with several thin thongs about two feet long.
She swished it around, testing its weight and flex.
"Lori, you got the right whip?" said the uniformed man. "Sentence calls for the
adult female correctional martinet."
"Yes I do, sheriff. It's this one here," said the young woman in the gym garb.
"Well then let's get started." Turning to the girls he said, "Mary Beth Quinlan
and Celeste Jensen. You two have been convicted of soliciting for prostitution.
The judge pronounced sentence, which in this county is 90 lashes and an order to
stay out of the county for two years. We cannot give you all 90 lashes today.
They will be given to you in intervals of 48 hrs. You will get the first 30 here
and now."
"But we didn't do anything...we were just walking--our ride left us," the
brunette was pleading, the blonde nearly in tears.
"Too late for that. The judge has spoken. Let's get on with it." Nodding to the
brunette's matron he said, "Start with her, that's ah...Miss Quinlan." He looked
at his Order to make sure.
The matron said, "Come on honey. It'll be best if you cooperate--you could get
your sentence increased. You don't want that, now."
Protesting and shaking in fear, Mary Beth let herself be led over to the frame.
Quickly and efficiently, as if this move had been practiced or performed many
times, two matrons unlocked her cuffs, bent her forward and cuffed her wrists
and ankles to the frame. Her body was extended along the frame at a 45 degree
angle. One of the matrons reached underneath her and slid the crossbar along the
frame until it rested right at her pelvic bone. This made her buttocks stick out
from the frame. After the frame had been adjusted, the girl with the whip, Lori,
nodded to Mary Beth's matron. She came up behind Mary Beth and hooked her
fingers in the waistband of the panties the girl wore. Mary Beth shrieked in
protest but the matron slid the flimsy garmet down to Mary Beth's knees. Her
bare bottom and the backs of her thighs were now framed between the short tank
top and the bunched up panties.
Mary Beth was tall but had nicely rounded bottomcheeks. She shivered in fear and
looked anxiously back over her shoulder at Lori with wide frightened eyes. Lori
was positioning herself, measuring the distance so as to be able to strike
properly with the multi-thonged whip. There were 5 thongs, thin, like bootlaces,
and very supple. She pulled the strands through her fingers, drew back her arm,
and with a smooth practiced motion brought the whip down square across the
crowns of Mary Beth's buttocks. The nude bottom cheeks rippled at the impact.
Mary Beth let out a screech.
Whisssh....thwack! Another stroke raised livid red weals. Mary Beth yelled in
anguish.
Whooosh...swick! "Yeowww!....please, no! It hurts!"
Whissh...swick! More red lines appeared across the pale bottom cheeks. Another
shriek from Mary Beth.
It took about 5 minutes to administer Mary Beth's whipping. The lashes were
about 10 seconds apart, and each one was given with the full strength of Officer
Lori's arm. Mary Beth tried to dance to avoid the whip but only ended up making
her bottom jiggle lewdly. Thin red lines merged into a crimson, then nearly
purple band of welts that ran from the top of her ass to the tops of her thighs.
She wept with pain and embarassment. The lashing continued until all 30 strokes
had been duly meted out.
The matron released the straps. Mary Beth was crying profusely. She had to be
held up by her guards who yanked her panties back up over her swollen rear. It
hurt so much she could only touch herself gingerly.
Now it was Celeste's turn. She appeared to almost swoon as the sheriff motioned
for them to secure her to the frame. Celeste was a short blonde with her hair in
a ponytail and bangs in front. She had muscular thighs which almost made her
look stocky, but she had a narrow waist and a prominent bubble-shaped rear.
Strapped to the frame, and bending slightly, her behind jutted back inviting the
whip.
Celeste yelped as her panties were jerked down around her knees baring her full
white bottom. Lori assumed a businesslike stance to her left and, dipping her
body for a windup drew the whip back and swooshed it down. It struck with the
same dry thwack! The strands rebounded from Celeste's bouncing bottom. The nates
rippled with impact and Celeste shrieked in pain.
The young fit officer whipped Celeste with a will, determined to punish the
pretty coed as severely as the law allowed. Lash after lash decorated Celeste's
bounding fanny with thin red weals. Celeste squealed and wriggled as much as
Mary Beth had, but Lori was unmoved. When the 30th lash had fallen, Celeste was
taken down. Both girls continued to sob as they were led away.
The female deputy that brought me in escorted me back to the desk. For the first
time I noticed that she had different insignia on her uniform from that of the
sheriff. I asked her about it.
"Oh that's because this is a contract facility. I'm not part of the sheriff's
office proper."
"Who runs this facility?"
"Well this here is the county lockup, work farm and correctional unit. I work
for the outfit that runs it for the county--Corpun is the company name. Run a
tight ship--like that Lori. She's not a deputy either. Works for Corpun. They
trained her. Whew! And I can tell you I wouldn't want to be on the other end of
one her whippin's. That gal is strong. I seen some tough women come through here
sentenced to a whippin' or just a good strappin' for breaking rules and
such...and she always leaves 'em blubbering and crying for mercy, their mommas
or just about anything."
That was interesting news. I now had to wonder if Corpun had something to do
with Libby's arrest. An hour later I got to talk to Celeste and Mary Beth. They
were allowed into an interview room. I told them who I was, and why I was there.
They were frantic.
"You've got to help us. Please. They're going to whip us again in two days! I
couldn't stand it. God, it hurt like blazes and was so embarrassing," entreated
Mary Beth.
"Where are your parents?" I asked.
"My mom is coming from California, but it took her awhile to get a flight," said
Celeste.
"My folks are in Italy," said Mary Beth, "and I hope they can get here and stop
this thing. Can you do anything?"
"Well tell me what happened."
"It was Trey," began Mary Beth, " he left us--at that rest area. He just took
off. I don't know why. Just drove off while we were in the bathroom. We couldn't
believe it. So we finally decided we'd better hitch a ride back to town before
it got dark. This guy picks us up. We thought he was nice, but he drove us
straight to the police station and went in. Next thing we know the sheriff come
out and arrests us all. Says we propositioned him. We couldn't believe it--like
it was all some joke."
Celeste broke in. "Yeah they brought us here and locked us up. Wouldn't let us
make a call. We were screaming and hollering to be let out or to just make a
phone call. They just told us we better behave or else."
"We should have shut up, but we didn't. They took Libby to another cell by
herself. We kept demanding to be let go. Then this beefy head guard and two
other matrons come into our cell and grab us. They took us down the hall to this
room. The head matron tells us she's gonna teach us a little lesson in obedience
in her jail. She tells us to drop our pants. While they're watching we have to
take down our pants and stand there with our bare behinds exposed. And all the
time she's like, lecturing us."
"Yeah," continued Celeste, "this head matron drags out a chair and sits down.
They drug Mary Beth over to her and she flipped Mary Beth over her knee like she
was a little kid."
"It was horrible," said Mary Beth. "She pulled me over her lap and started
spanking my bare bottom. It hurt! She just spanked and spanked. She must have
hit me a hundred times! My butt was blazing. All the while she kept asking me if
I was going to behave in her jail. I broke down and swore I would, but she just
kept on smacking me. It hurt. I was wriggling, trying to get away. Then I just
started crying. She finally let me up and they grabbed Celeste."
"It was the same for me," admitted Celeste ruefully. "She put me across her knee
like a ten year old and gave me a harder spanking with her hand than I think we
got with paddles on initiation night. I was blubbering and crying and promising
to be good. I couldn't help it--it stung so bad. After that we shut up. We
didn't want a repeat of that, I can tell you!"
"So you went to trial...what...on Saturday?"
"Yes, but it was more like kangaroo court. We had this lawyer who did nothing
and the judge believed this Earl...something or other...that we propositioned
him! It was ludicrous!" exclaimed Mary Beth.
"What about Libby?"
"We didn't see her. We were told she plea bargained and was sent to some church
halfway house."
"The Church of Atonement?"
"I think so," mused Celeste. Turning to Mary Beth she said, "Isn't that the
church that Trey got her into? That kind of nutty thing about atonement for past
sins?"
"Yes--I think it was. They talked about it in the car, how you had done all
these things--in past lives even--that had to be cleansed or something. It
sounded like some mumbo jumbo to me. She and Trey were like a couple of
enthusiastic kids about it. I didn't get it."
"So Mr Hand can you help us? Please? If you don't we will
be...w-whipped...again. God, in two days!" implored Mary Beth.
"I'll do everything I can, girls. I suspect that I will have to try for Federal
Habeus Corpus--I think the local system has been corrupted, but I don't know how
or why yet. And I need to find Libby."
"Please Mr Hand, whatever you can do," said Celeste imploringly. "Nothing ever
hurt so bad and was so humiliating to boot as having my bare ass whipped like
that--you just have no idea."
She was right, I didn't. But I was going to find out, and much sooner than I
would have liked.
