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The Christian Discipline Diaries
Dominic Smithers
Sunday March 10th, 1996
Before Church
After the incredible stresses and strains of yesterday I woke up this morning feeling totally wasted. And so did my pecker. I and it had done triple duty on Saturday and we were both worn out. I hoped that the morning would be quiet and the afternoon, if not quiet would at least not be insane. My wife Suzie was up and bustling earlier than usual. She seemed unusually chipper considering she had her ass beaten to a pulp yesterday and was brutally fucked twice. She was bustling and hustling, got the girls up and dressed, cooked a big breakfast and had everything ready for Church fifteen minutes early. Women, I will never understand them. Their hidden reserves of energy. Their ability to thrive in adversity. I do have to admit that she looked devastatingly pretty in her new yellow dress. And her white stockings. Which I knew were held up by a lacy white garter belt innocent of underwear. I wish that we could blow off Church this morning. I would send the kids off somewhere, rip off Suzie’s and fuck her brains out, probably right on the living room floor. But duty calls.
For several months now Henry Fisher, our Pastor, has been talking with me about taking on a larger role in the Church. Since he started the Church Chastisements about a year ago there has been a quiet but steady buzz around old Holiness Bible Church. These sessions on Sunday afternoons are closed to all but the participants ,all of whom are what are called “Strict Observance” members of the Church. This means that they take the strictest literal interpretation of the Bible. Particularly about the running of the Home and the place of the Wife and Children. In practical terms these are the folks where the man wears the pants in the Family. Originally when I heard about Strict Observance I thought it was a lot of backwoods hooey. But Henry helped me to understand how my Family was drifting and how Strict Observance could get it back on track. Yesterday was the crisis day when Suzie accepted Submission, Obedience and Discipline from the Lord, our Pastor and her Husband. There’s not a lot of theory to Strict Observance just a lot of common country sense. Today we will attend our first Church Chastisement. My Wife will exhibit the fruits of her chastisement. And I will take a new step forward in the Church.
Ever since Holiness Bible Church started Sunday Church Chastisements, the Pastor’s Wife Martha has been meting out punishment to the Wives and adolescent Daughters subjected to Discipline. As the ranks of the Strict Observers at Holiness have grown, the number and range of Chastisements have grown. The Pastor feels that a stronger hand is needed to supplement Martha’s. Not that she doesn’t go about her work with enthusiasm. Besides, she is frequently in need of Chastisement. And although in the bosom of her Home she can be Chastised by her Husband, the public Chastisements should never be given by your Husband. This is all laid out in a set of pamphlets by a famous Evangelical minister Rev. Norcod. So I am to become the Co-Disciplinarian for the Church. Actually sort of an assistant Pastor. That’s why yesterday was a sort of test for me as well as for Suzie. Could I do what was needed to be done, firmly and exactingly, carrying out Pastor Henry’s instructions regardless of how I felt or thought. I guess I passed. I did what I had to do. And this afternoon I will do what I have to do.
Sunday March 10th, 1996
Sunday Services
Boy, what a difference a day makes. I am much more fully aware of the excitement that Strict Observance has brought to our little country Evangelical Church. For instance, now that I know the significance of those two little buttons on the backs of the Women’s dresses. It makes all the difference to know that they are observant of S.O.D.. I stand around before Services and survey the congregation looking for the Women and Girls that belong to Strictly Observing Families. I begin to realize that it is more than those two little buttons that set them apart. They are more modestly dressed than the nonobservant women and carry themselves more demurely with downcast eyes. But somehow they are also livelier, and yes, sexier. They seem to stand taller, and even stick their breasts out at you. They look you in the eye and you know that under that dress they have no undergarments on other than a shift and a garter belt. Perhaps they are flaunting that fact, and the probable existence of a set of bruised buttocks and a sore pussy. Then maybe I have changed. My Wife, Suzie, is certainly changed overnight. She is more vivacious. There are a whole bunch of women that flock to her this morning. Actually the ones she is attracting are Women, they are all Strict Observers.
My Girls are different. They are not the wild hellions they usually are. Especially the youngest, Sophie the ‘Brat’. I think that it is more than they got the ‘walloping of their life’ yesterday. They are wearing dresses for once. And they are aware that their Mother has changed. I will have to see how long this lasts. I have posted up in their room a Daily Diary for each of them. Each day they will be graded in conduct, chores and studies. On Saturday the scores will be toted up and Home Chastisements issued. We will see how much forward thinking and accountability can be programmed into this bunch of blond volcanoes.
As we are settling into our seats just prior to the start of services I contemplate what the aura about the Observant Women. It is sexual. Their modesty of dress cannot disguise that they are more sexual than the nonobservant women whose bodies are much more exposed to the everyday glance. The dresses disguise their bodies but in doing so set them apart. These Women are dedicated to satisfying their Husbands above and beyond what is usually expected. They Submit their bodies and they are Obedient. If they fall short, and generally they do, they Submit to Discipline. And their Discipline exposes their bodies during Chastisement. Maybe that’s why already they are looking at me differently. They know that someday soon they may have to expose the most private parts of their bodies to my gaze and to my implements of Chastisement. I think that they get a bit of a buzz out of that too. I know that just thinking about it givesS me a hard on.
I look around the room at the Women with the dual buttons on the backs of their dresses and I think of what lurks under those modest blouses and skirts, beneath those dresses. I wonder how many are wearing panties this morning. I know that suzie isn’t. The Observant Women are younger, more of them are pregnant. They tend to have more Daughters than sons. I think about the females, Wives and adolescent Daughters scheduled for Church Chastisements today and scan the congregation for them. Not too many great bodies in that bunch. Marsha Carpenter is thin as a switch and Carol Jefferson is fat as a hog. But Marsha’s 15 year old Daughter Ashley is blooming and Mary Stewart although short has a nice body. Those could be interesting to watch. And then there is Martha. Martha who thinks that yesterday I raped her. Well, technically I guess she is right but actually I was standing in the place of her Husband. Not that I didn’t really really, really, enjoy it. Right now Martha doesn’t realize that her Chastisement for the weekend didn’t end yesterday. That new pillory that Peter Stewart just finished is going to be dedicated today by serving for Martha Fisher’s Bondage. And I will wield the implement of Chastisement.
Sunday March 10th, 1996
After the Public Church Service
Well, now is the time to get down to work. Four to be Sternly Chastised by Martha. And Martha to be Sternly Chastised by me. I considered Mary Stewart, Mrs. Carpenter and her Daughter and Carol Jefferson as appetizers to be delivered before the main course. Mary was a disappointment. She was much closer in age to Suzie and was junior to my Wife. In high school I only remembered her as a snot nose whiney spoiled kid. I was hoping that she would show a little something while under Martha’s correction. She is still a whiney kid who screamed under minor discipline, peed and fainted. I suspect that she is going to become one of Martha’s ‘special projects’. Marsha’s Daughter Ashley shows promise. Already she has a better body than her Mother (which is not saying much) and she took the light discipline that Martha dished out well. I will keep my eye on her in the coming months. I found Marsha herself intriguing. Outside of Martha herself, I had never seen a Woman turned on by being beaten. Martha obviously read Marsha like a book. The first twelve strokes, delivered across the buttocks, were pure pleasure. The second twelve, delivered to the vulva, were pure pain. It will be fun to watch the relationship between these two develop. Carol is a boring cow. Beat her, she takes it. Beat her some more. She takes it. Unless she loses some weight, she is likely to be a chore. And all though out it all, Henry read aloud from the Bible, scriptural passages relating the woes and chastisements of this life.
While I was watching Martha beat the thundering herd of local talent, I was also studying the furniture upon which Martha would be Chastised. Peter Jefferson, a local carpenter, had constructed the pillory. Probably from general plans that the Pastor had given him. The pillory was basically a pair of posts affixed to a base. Between the posts were a set of crosspieces. Between these crosspieces were pinioned
the neck and wrists of the female being disciplined. This served to fasten her, bent over at a 90 degree angle with her head restrained in the forward position looking down and her bottom exposed to the rear. I could see how this apparatus offered a great deal more flexibility compared to the carpenter’s horse. In the case of this particular pillory the uprights were 4 x 4 lumber attached to pair of 2 x 4 feet. At the very bottom a 2 x 4 crosspiece connected the uprights. About three feet up, a second, fixed, cross piece further connected the uprights. Both crosspieces were fastened to the uprights with tennon and mortise joints. Into the upper edge of the middle, 2 x 6 crosspiece were cut three semicircular holes. One in the center was designed to accommodate the head. The two to either side would hold the wrists. Routed into the 4 x 4 uprights was a channel in which slid up and down, another 2 x 6 crosspiece. The lower edge of this crosspiece had three semicircular cuts which complete the holes that held the neck and wrists. This is your basic pillory. What made this pillory unique was that it was built for a midget. Normally a pillory traps its victim in a standing up position. This pillory held its victim in a bent over position, bent over at the waist. This would be hell on the lower back of the victim. I wondered why it had been built this way.
Soon enough, the switching of the preliminary entertainers was over and the main act was to begin. Henry sent Martha to the back to strip and urinate. It was obvious that the word had spread that Martha was to be the center attraction. Everybody knew but Martha. When she came back up to the front she was pale and shaken. Henry and I fastened her into the pillory and Henry went into the closet and got the triple switch. This implement greatly impressed the peasants. That and the thoroughly ‘prepared’ condition of Martha. Honestly her backside looked like hamburger. It was that bad. Her breasts were also beaten black and blue and had bite marks that were open sores. She was hardly a pretty site. When she was bent over and bound in the pillory, it was obvious that her pussy had suffered the worst punishment of all. It was extremely swollen and oozing blood. Frankly I thought that our minute audience of Jeffersons, Carpenters and Stewarts were appalled at the prospect of the upcoming performance. To say nothing of Martha.
Martha was now bound before me and I swished the long triple switch of crepe myrtle back and forth. This was truly a formidable weapon. I knew that given the bruised condition of Martha’s backside this could be a rather bloody undertaking. I looked at Henry and he nodded. I stood at the left side of Martha and I planted the first three strokes of the switch squarely across her ass cheeks. Three things were obvious from the start. She knew what was coming. She understood the consequences of what was about to happen. And three, she was not going to show that the brutal whipping she was about to endure was rending her psyche. Although her body jumped and twitched under the lash of the switch, she never uttered a word. After three I moved over to her right side and gave her another three strokes. After six hits, eighteen wands had sliced into her bruised backside. The switch had cut into the swollen tissues of her buttocks to an alarming degree. There were at least a dozen cuts in her backside, all of which were beginning to bleed. Frankly, I myself was appalled. I took a good look at her buttocks and noticed that there were shreds of tissue waving in the breeze by the sides of the cuts that the switches had made. Her ass was actually coming apart in front of my eyes. I felt deep remorse at inflicting such damage on what to me was always the most beautiful woman I had known. However, I looked over at Henry and he nodded, indicating to me that I should continue with Martha’s beating.
In the meantime, Marsha Carpenter and Carol Jefferson had gone ballistic. They were literally jumping up and down protesting at what I was doing to Martha’s bottom. Henry dealt with them by making them strip and kneel before the congregation, together with Mary who was just getting back on their feet. That made it obvious that if they didn’t behave they were next in line for the pillory. Their asses sent them the message that more strokes were not a good idea. They made a fascinating tit collection kneeling there. Tall Marsha with small tits and a bad sag problem, short perky Mary with a fine set of breasts, and finally bovine Carol with her industrial strength mammary glands. Some day we will have to line them up and put the switch to all of their tities. But now back to work
After about a five minute pause for Martha to take a breather and for me to wipe her blood off my switches, I administered the second set of six lashes with the triple birch. By this point I think that Martha was a little bit out of her head with the pain. Although she was still conscious and her body still reacted to each blow with a jerk, she didn’t even grunt when I hit her. After a total of twelve strokes I walk around to the front of the pillory. Although she was still conscious her eyes were glazed. She was clearly out of it and I was amazed that she had neither pissed nor shat. I took the leather pad from her mouth. She was no longer at risk of biting her mouth.
Eventually she began to recover. The first sign of life was when I began to swab her behind with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. Her body tensed and she moaned. When I swabbed her labia, which had taken the tip of a stroke or two and were beginning to bleed, she started shouting at me. “You rotten bastard, I’ll get you for this” was about all I could decipher. A lot of thanks for my attempts to repair her battered posterior.
Sunday March 10th, 1996
Triple Treat: Up the Ass, Into the Cunt and In the Mouth
What happened next was under the direction of Henry. It was, after all, his Wife.
First, Henry started off by sodomizing his Wife. That’s an act that I have never gotten off on. However in these matters Henry is the boss. Then he moved up to Martha’s front end and made her give him head. Hey! I can get off on that and frequently have. After he vacated the rear, he indicated that I should fuck her cunt from the rear. Again, I can live with that.
A long time ago I realized that I was not the most sophisticated individual in matters sexual. It doesn’t bother me. That’s why I go with the flow. You would be amazed how far that has gotten me. It does not bother me if Henry says, “Fuck this bitch.” I will do it and not be amazed. I do not ponder matters theological. That is why I am a happy man. Besides, Martha was a good lay. This time I took her doggy style from the rear. She tried the same clench your pussy trick on me that she did the last time. It didn’t work any better this time than last. If it can be believed, my dick was even harder today than it was yesterday. This was undoubtedly due to me standing around for an hour watching four women disrobe and get their heinies blistered by Martha. I have to admit that I found Mary’s hysterics a particular turn on, particularly when they stripped her of her red dress after they took her off the horse. I was further aroused by the sight of Martha’s bruised and bitten tits when she undressed prior to being pilloried and beaten. My lust reached a peak as I scourged her ass. The site of drops of blood on her light pastel blue stockings was overwhelming. So I was hot to trot when Henry gave me the OK. I spread her pussy’s lips with my fingers and thrust in with a shout. Then I grabbed her tits and squeezed as hard as I could. Her scream was muffled because Henry’s dick was in her mouth. I had a horrible case of lover’s nuts having sustained an erection over the last hour and a half. I wouldn’t last long, particularly with the way she was clenching the muscles around her vagina. Thrust, thrust, thrust and then KABOOM! It weren’t fancy loving but I shot and shot and shot. Some day I will have to actually go to bed with this bitch and make love to her. It could be an interesting idea.
After I screwed Martha from behind, Henry was still fucking her face. Everything was going OK until she bit him. And I mean bit him hard enough that he bled all over. For the first time in the year that I have known him I saw Henry get mad. He turned red in the face and through clenched teeth he hissed, “Bitch, I warned you not to do that. I told you not to do that. You are going to really pay for this.” The look he had on his face certainly scared me. With his pecker clenched in his right hand, he went to the back of the Church and fumbled around the closet until he found a first aid kit. I went back and asked if I could help. He said nothing but continued to fumble because his hands were shaking so bad. Finally he said, “Could you give me a hand.” He was still purple in the face when I swabbed his dick with the rubbing alcohol but then he started to relax a little. The bite marks were deep and I suggested that he might need to get the wound sutured. “No” he said. So I put some triple antibiotic cream on the cuts, put a telfa pad on each side of his penis and secured them with some tape. “Pastor” I said, “you are going to be out of commission for some time.” “Don’t worry about it” he replied.
We walked up to the front of the Church and he slowly put his shorts and pants back on. All this time Martha had said nothing. Henry looked around and finally found the triple switch. It was a pity because Martha’s buttocks and thighs had finally stopped bleeding. He said to me, “I think it would be a good time for you to leave, Dominic”. He was in no shape to reason with or even argue with. It would make no sense to tell him that his Wife was in no shape for a further whipping. It would have done no good, Henry knew what he was going to do. As I closed the door Martha screamed for the first time. I think he hit right across the vulva with the switch. She screamed twice more by the time I got to my red pickup truck, which was parked a hundred yards away by their house. It was a high-pitched scream like a rabbit makes when you hit it in the hindquarters with a 22 long rifle round. I could still faintly hear her screaming when I got to the road.
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