The Birching of Susan

Father Antonius smiled warmly at the attractive young woman entering the church. As she walked towards him the sound of her footsteps against the hard stone floor echoed in the rafters one step at a time until she stood immediately before him. Her soft brown eyes looked sad as she spoke to the handsome young priest “Father, I need you to hear my confession.” The young woman’s voice was nervous yet clear, her accent suggesting a hint of the West Country seldom heard in this London suburb.

Father Antonius had never seen the young woman before, such a request from a non-parishioner was unusual. The church though was empty, so typical of the pattern which had developed during the 1980s, and the young woman seemed very troubled. He asked her name “My name is Susan” she said. Father Antonius felt inwardly embarrassed, he found Susan captivating and attractive, the trilby hat worn at a slant, the faded denim jeans, well-worn t-shirt and the shabby sheepskin coat created an air of mystery about her, a non-conformist, perhaps a kind of nomad.


For a young priest already troubled by his own waning faith he felt a fraud but he knew that he could not deny Susan the Sacrament of Penance. Father Antonius guided the young woman to the Confessional Booth and as they both seated themselves within their compartments Father Antonius leaned back resting his head against the centuries old oak structure of the booth, his eyes directed to the small mesh panel which would allow him to hear Susan’s voice and she his. In truth, confession meant little to him, his faith was all but gone but if it helped those who felt they had offloaded their sins then it could do no harm.

Father Antonius doubted Susan’s confession would be any different from others he had heard ‘Forgive me father for I have sinned’ or ‘Forgive me Father for I have taken something which didn’t belong to me’. ‘Forgive me Father for I have spoken unkindly of another’ He had heard and yawned through such confessions countless times but as he invited Susan to begin her confession he sat upright at her words. “Forgive me Father for I am a perverted girl, I crave corporal punishment and become sexually aroused when my bare buttocks are spanked and caned”.

Father Antonius was thankful for the privacy of the booth, being a priest afforded no protection from natural desires and as his manhood rose visibly beneath his robes he struggled to keep his composure. “M-m-my dear Susan,“ he stuttered “this is a delicate matter and you will need to tell me more if I am to help you”. “Well Father, for many years I have found pleasure in corporal punishment, I was slippered and caned many times at school for being so naughty and although I hated it at first I somehow grew to enjoy it, crave it even. As I got a little older I began looking at pictures and reading stories in spanking magazines and then punishing myself like the girls in them. I would spank myself on the bottom with my hand, use things like ping-pong bats, hairbrushes, belts, canes anything I could find that would make my bottom sting and hurt and I would play with myself while I did this. “Play with yourself, how do you mean?” interjected Father Antonius feigning an almost disapproving tone.

Susan coughed a little, as if clearing her throat in embarrassment, “Well Father, I’d put my fingers inside myself, get myself wet and excited and sometimes when I’d finished the spanking I’d find things like candles, carrots and other things of suitable shape and size and put them into my holes”. Father Antonius gasped, this was unlike any confession he had heard before, “Please tell me girl that you have left these ways behind you, if you have, forgiveness will be yours for you have harmed no one else.”
“That I cannot do Father, as I have got older I have found many men and also women prepared to punish me for mutual pleasure. I have felt the sting of their palm, the lick of the strap and the bite of the cane upon my bare buttocks many times and each time I find myself wanting more and impatient for the next time my behind will be bared and presented for such punishment”. Susan sounded distressed “Please help me Father I feel so guilty and I so want to change my ways.”

Father Antonius pondered for a while before saying anything, “Susan, I believe I can help you but it won’t be easy,” Susan leaned forward and put her face close to the mesh partition “Just tell me what I have to do and I will do it, anything, absolutely anything I just so want to be a good person and rid myself of these appalling desires,” her voice displayed her troubled mind and she was clearly close to tears.
“Well Susan, I believe that to provide you with a cure you must be taken beyond your limits, taught to despise corporal punishment, to hate the pain it inflicts and to recognise it as an evil. Your desires are unusual dear girl but not unique and I recall some while ago hearing about a young woman similar to you, she was cured by being taken beyond her limits, humiliated in the process.”

Susan pushed her face even closer to the mesh partition “Does that mean that you will punish me Father, take away these evil thoughts?” Father Antonius peered through the mesh, he could just about make out the outline of Susan’s lovely head and the shape of the unusual hat which sat upon it “If you wish for me to help you, you must come with me to the presbytery so that we can begin your cure.”

Father Antonius led the way through the rear door of the church and took Susan along the narrow tree-lined path which led to the presbytery. The presbytery was a magnificent old stone building seemingly frozen in time and as they entered its door Father Antonius turned to the girl “We will be alone here, my housekeeper has gone for the day”. Susan was visibly nervous as she was guided to the drawing room, the musty smell filled her nostrils, so reminiscent of other church buildings she had been in. “I will leave you for a few moments as I have something to prepare, you may pray for forgiveness while I’m gone”.

Father Antonius left Susan and hurried out to the garden shed. He knew that the gardener had been preparing to make fencing using hazel twigs, but the arrival of Susan now gave a different destiny to five of the twigs. A large collection of the twigs had been left soaking in water to keep them supple and workable. Father Antonius carefully selected five sturdy twigs a little over three feet in length and began binding them together with strong tape. He had recently read a newspaper article about the birches used in the Isle of Man and how they were made and was satisfied that with the twigs securely bound he had constructed the ideal instrument of correction with which to begin Susan’s therapy.

Unable to resist testing his handiwork, Father Antonius vigorously swished the ‘birch’ through the air a number of times before returning to the presbytery. Opening the door to the drawing room he saw Susan kneeling before the fireplace above which hung a simple wooden cross. She had removed her coat whilst in prayer and Father Antonius could not help but allow his eyes to focus on her shapely behind so magnificently packaged within her tight fitting denim jeans. Aware of his presence, Susan slowly turned her head, her eyes immediately transfixed on the birch.

Rising to her feet Susan turned to face Father Antonius before asking “Am I to be birched Father?” Father Antonius lowered his head, he felt uncomfortable with what he was about to propose “Indeed Susan, you are to receive a thorough birching on your naked buttocks, in fact you will need to remove all of your clothes and present yourself in the garden beneath the heavens just as God created you”.

Father Antonius half expected the young woman to refuse, change her mind perhaps and maybe run off never to be seen again, but such was Susan’s desire to be cured that she was true to her word and would accept whatever method the priest proposed for her. Slowly removing her clothing Susan stood in nothing more than her socks. Father Antonius felt embarrassed, he had desires like any other man and the sight of this beautiful young woman presented nude, tormented his very soul, but he knew what must be done.”You may replace your shoes Susan, there is no need for you to risk injury to your feet in the garden during the punishment and you must replace your hat for a purpose which will soon become clear”.

Susan did as instructed and following a simple gesture from the young priest she nervously made her way into the garden. As Father Antonius followed her he could not resist savouring the sight of her magnificent naked behind as it rolled so provocatively with each step she took.

Despite its location the garden was surprisingly private, high walls and ample trees shielded this small space from public view. Susan was guided toward the small garden bench upon which Father Antonius had spent many an hour reading in solitude, not just the literature of his profession but also his secret collection of Janus and other spanking magazines which he kept securely hidden beneath the floor of the garden shed. Today though, the bench would serve a different purpose, a purpose soon revealed as Susan was instructed to bend over its back firmly clutching the brim of her hat in order to avoid any temptation to protect her bottom with her hands.

“You’re now going to receive twelve strokes of the birch Susan,” announced the priest, his voice containing an almost apologetic tone “this is going to be as painful for me as it will be for you. Are you prepared dear girl?” Susan turned her head to look at Father Antonius, her eyes darting between his solemn face and the implement of correction clutched in his hand. “I’m ready Father, I deserve to be punished.”

Father Antonius offered the birch to the centre of Susan’s buttocks before drawing it back and delivering the first resounding stroke upon her smooth naked cheeks. The moisture held in the twigs from their soaking added greater weight and flexibility to the birch and following a momentary delay, the force of the impact exploded in Susan’s bottom beyond anything she had encountered before. Susan tried to remain stoic and as the second stroke bit hard into her cheeks she gritted her teeth and exhaled loudly as she tightened the grip on the brim of her hat “AAH! AAH!” her only utterance. As the next few strokes further challenged her endurance Susan pressed her belly into the back of the bench in an effort to divert the agony away from her buttocks.”OOH! Dear God, OOH!”

The pain of the birch was truly beyond even the most severe canings she had received and her behind began to feel like it had been immersed in boiling water. As the seventh stroke landed squarely across the centre of her bottom Susan cried out “EEEEOWCH,OW-OW-OW!” and almost buckled. Father Antonius paused for a moment and studied Susan’s rear, the once smooth and creamy white cheeks were now embossed with the bite of the birch, small swellings, red lines and a vivid mottled pattern were testimony to the effectiveness of the implement. The inquisitive nature of the hazel had created a few stray marks on the tops of her thighs and into the valley between her cheeks.

To this point of the punishment, Father Antonius had said nothing, just concentrating on his aim and the thrust of impact “Five more strokes to go, are you ready?” he questioned. This brief period of respite had been welcomed by Susan and as she fidgeted to reposition herself she replied, “Yes, I’m ready Father, I deserve this show me no mercy”. Father Antonius smiled inwardly and again offered the birch to Susan’s bottom, the strokes she had received so far had taken their toll on the lower, fleshier part of her buttocks and Father Antonius was determined to now add colour to the upper portions.

Drawing back the birch once more, he delivered the eighth stroke higher than the previous ones. The whistle of the birch through the air and the sound of the twigs cascading together as they met their target left little doubt as to the agony which engulfed Susan’s behind. “OW-OW-OW OH, DEAR JESUS!” yelled Susan and as the next stroke landed on almost the same spot. Susan contorted wildly, tugging her hat even further down her head and shrieking “OUCH! OUCH!.. OH MY POOR BUM! ....OH!.... OH!....OH!” while dancing wildly from foot to foot. The tenth stroke was placed across the same target area and as the flesh of the upper part of Susan’s buttocks blossomed in colour and texture to blend with the lower portions it was all she could do to keep a grip on her hat.

Father Antonius adjusted his aim to complete the punishment by reigniting the fire in the lower part of her bottom. Susan was by now sobbing and tears ran down her pretty face, composure was nay impossible. The penultimate stroke was delivered to her bottom in line with her anus causing Susan to all but climb over the back of the bench, the sound as the birch struck her young, feminine flesh generating a kind of erotic percussion against her skin. “AAH! OH! GAW! OH IT BURNS!....IT REALLY BURNS!“ squealed Susan .

As Susan settled back in position Father Antonius addressed her bottom with the birch for the final time, his secret interest in spanking magazines had taught him that by tradition the final stroke should be the hardest and as he drew back the birch as far as his arm would reach he delivered a stroke to the centre of Susan’s buttocks which felt to the girl as though a red hot poker had been laid across her rear. Susan bucked and twisted, her anguish near unbearable,
but with the birching over the priest allowed her to rub her bottom. Clasping both buttocks, Susan began frantically rubbing the now rugged terrain of her once smooth cheeks. “Father it hurts so much, my bottom feels like it’s on fire.” she sobbed. Father Antonius smiled sympathetically at the girl and reached forward to take her arm. “We’ll return indoors where you can recover from your ordeal, your acceptance of this punishment is to your credit.”

As they made their way back to the drawing room the pain of her near roasted bottom caused Susan to walk awkwardly and she was glad of the young priest’s grip on her arm to steady her, her bottom too painful to consider offering it to a chair. As they entered the drawing room, Susan chose to stand as she accepted the offer of coffee. As Father Antonius went off to make the coffee Susan examined her bottom in a mirror which hung from the wall.

As Father Antonius returned he asked the girl why she had not replaced her clothes. Susan said nothing, but simply stepped forward and took the two mugs from his hands, placing them on the nearby table before standing directly in front of him and looking into the handsome young priest’s eyes. “Father Antonius, I wish to reward you for what you have done for me today, just remain still and permit me this gesture".

Father Antonius kept perfectly still, entering the priesthood had robbed him of many of life’s experiences but at this moment in time his natural instincts left him in no doubt of Susan’s intentions. Susan knelt at the priest’s feet and cast aside her hat before slowly lifting his robes at the front and lowering his undergarments enough to guide his rapidly growing manhood into her warm and succulent mouth. Father Antonius may have lost his faith, but right now he knew that on Earth at least, Heaven really does exist.