Children of the Church 1: Children Of The Church
  by Nap
  
  copyright 2002 by Nap, all rights reserved
  
  * * * * *
  Note  This story is a fantasy for adults only.  The
  author utterly condemns any form of actual abuse  
  physical, sexual, psychological and emotional   to any
  person of any age. 
  * * * * *
  
  The Reverend Daniel Shore, Vicar of Wormsford St
  Cuthbert, took as his text the injunction "He who spares
  the rod hates his own son [or daughter]", but rather than
  preach a sermon, he had decided to give a practical
  demonstration.  Accordingly, he called to the front of
  the church his own four children, Matthew, Marcia, Lucy
  and Jonathan, aged respectively, 13, 12, 11, and 10.  The
  four had not had any warning of this sudden rise to
  prominence, and looked embarrassed and bewildered as they
  went before the congregation of the parish church of the
  remote English village. 
  
  "Friends, you see standing before you my own beloved
  children.  Like all youngsters their moral behaviour is
  not always as my wife and I would wish, and having their
  welfare and ultimate salvation at the centre of our
  being, we wield the rod of correction with a heavy heart,
  but an equally heavy hand."
  
  While the minister spoke these pious words, the
  congregation eyed the four unfortunate children presented
  to them.  As was to be expected, all were well turned out
  for the service.  Ten-year-old Jon, who had a cheekily
  round freckled face and a mop of light brown hair, was
  wearing smart shorts, shirt and tie.  Lucy's shoulder
  length, honey blonde hair framed her pretty, fine
  featured face.  She wore a blue dress boldly patterned
  with bright flowers.  Her twelve-year-old sister, Marcia,
  was a tall, bespectacled girl, proud and prim, and
  looking every inch the minister's daughter. Her dark
  brown hair hung in two tidy plaits and even now she
  viewed the congregation with a snooty, supercilious
  stare.  She was dressed in a trim white blouse with a
  bow, a burgundy skirt and white knee high socks.  Lastly,
  the teenage Matthew, had his thick dark hair brushed
  neatly across his head and, as there was a girl named
  Rowena in the congregation he had particularly wanted to
  impress, he had dressed with care in a well ironed shirt,
  tie and sharply pressed long trousers.
  
  The vicar's voice droned on and the children, like the
  rest of the congregation, largely ignored his words until
  he came to, "...and so you four children shall now strip
  to your underwear."  Gasps, giggles and growls of
  approval greeted these words as the congregation suddenly
  woke up. The four children were horrified.  Surely their
  father could not intend them to undress in front of all
  these people who they had to meet every day?  He did.
  
  With obvious reluctance the four began to take their
  clothes off.  Both boys loosened their ties.  Lucy
  started to take off her dress and Marcia unbuttoned her
  blouse.  Among the congregation necks were craned and
  twisted.  Many children stood to get a better view and
  some of the younger ones tried climbing on the pews,
  though most were crossly pulled down by their embarrassed
  parents.  The boys took off their shirts and unzipped
  their flies.  Lucy hauled her dress over her head and
  stood in pink panties and top.   Marcia reluctantly
  removed her blouse and even more unwillingly unhooked her
  skirt.  The boys had to take off their shoes to get their
  trousers over their feet.  They both stood in their
  underpants, one patterned with sharks and the other with
  stripes.  Red faced Marcia stepped out of her skirt.  She
  was wearing pure white bra and panties.
  
  The Vicar of Wormsford St Cuthbert was ranting on about
  the Ten Commandments and which of them his various
  children had broken.  No one was listening, but
  presumably murder and adultery were not on his list. 
  Everyone in the church was far more interested in the
  half clad kids and what ever was going to happen to them
  next.
  
  The minister walked back and forth behind his four
  children who remained miserably facing the blatant stare
  of the congregation. He patrolled a few times as he
  continued to list their sins of commission and omission. 
  He paused in his speech as he stopped behind little Jon. 
  He stooped slightly, gripped his youngest child's
  underpants and briskly drew them down to the little boy's
  knees.  More gasps, giggles and growls of approval.  The
  lad turned bright red and clapped his hands his hands
  over his miniature willy and balls.
  
  "Hands on your head," his dad commanded callously.  His
  face burning, the boy obeyed, revealing his immature
  genitalia to the watching crowd.  The father moved on to
  his younger daughter.  He whisked the little top over the
  small girl's head.  She had just the bumpy beginnings of
  breasts on her chest and her tummy retained its childish
  rotundity.  Nonetheless, she was old enough not to want
  to show her upper body in public.  Worse was to come,
  though, as her father quickly pulled her pink panties
  down her legs.  There was not much to see between the
  little girl's thighs, but the congregation made sure they
  got a good look at what there was and Lucy's slightly
  bulging, bald vulva was examined keenly.
  
  Marcia's heart was hammering with anxious anticipation as
  she sensed her father shift to her.  She felt his fingers
  unhook her bra strap and with remarkable dexterity he
  slipped it from her shoulders.  Marcia had cute little
  breasts, firm and pointed with prominent, dark pink
  nipples.  They had only recently grown and she was
  understandably proud of their development, but not so
  full of pride that she wished to display them to the
  whole village as she was now doing.  She was aware of her
  father's hands taking hold of the elasticised waistband
  of her panties.  "Nooo!" she wailed as her knickers were
  lowered to her ankles.  Around the vertical slit between
  her long thighs was a fine fringe of curly pubic hair. 
  Marcia twisted and turned trying to hide herself with her
  own legs.
  
  "Stand still with your hands on your head," ordered her
  stern father.
  
  The vicar moved on to his oldest offspring.  He grasped
  his son's underpants and hauled them down.  The boy
  squirmed with embarrassment.  He was at the beginning of
  puberty and his penis had lengthened considerably of
  late, but as yet he had no pubic hair as some of his
  friends did.  He was not only ashamed to be exposed, but
  feared that he would be seen as immature for his age.  In
  fact the audience admired his long, circumcised penis and
  did not give the matter a thought.
  
  The Vicar of Wormsford St Cuthbert walked around to stand
  at the front of his congregation, but kept to the side of
  his children so as not to spoil the view of the
  parishioners.  The two boys and two girls stood with
  their hands on their heads and their underwear at various
  heights around their legs.  He seemed pleased enough with
  matters, but then said, "Now take off everything else you
  are wearing."
  
  The children busied themselves removing shoes, socks and
  underpants.  When this humiliating task was completed
  they stood as before.  But their father was far from
  pleased.
  
  "Matthew, you are wearing a watch.  Marcia, you still
  have on your glasses and hair bands.  Lucy, you have a
  bead bracelet on your wrist."
  
  The three oldest children took off the offending articles
  and then their father turned again to his congregation:
  
  "Now we can see these children as the Good Lord made them
  without worldly frills and fancies.  They are naked in
  their sinfulness before Him and before us all, and in
  this state of nature they shall be properly chastised for
  their sins according to God's Holy Word!"
  
  Many in the congregation murmured a pious "Amen", but
  Colonel Dashforth forgot himself enough to shout an
  enthusiastic "Hear! Hear!" and was shushed by his wife.
  
  "But first they shall show every side of themselves,
  hiding nothing, just as we must show every side of
  ourselves to Almighty God, hiding nothing from Him,"
  continued the vicar.
  
  The embarrassed children were now obliged to turn slowly
  around so that the congregation could examine their young
  bodies.  How those at the back wished they had sat at the
  front!  Those who did have the best view saw a sturdy ten
  year old boy with a cheeky little bottom that just ached
  to be spanked.  Next to him, his eleven-year-old sister's
  slender body had milk-white skin and a jutting little
  rear.  Moving on, the twelve-year-old's hips had recently
  broadened and a fresh layer of fat beneath the pale skin
  had filled and rounded her bottom.  And lastly, the
  athletic thirteen-year-old boy's well muscled cheeks
  stood out firmly.
       
  The Reverend Daniel Shore fetched a chair and placed it
  side on to the congregation next to where his four
  children stood.  He selected ten-year-old Jon by gripping
  the little lad's ear and marching him the few steps to
  the seat.  The minister sat and pulled his young son face
  down over his knees so that the boy's bottom was towards
  the congregation.  The other three children, still facing
  the public, turned their heads to watch their sibling
  being spanked.  And spanked he was!  The minister raised
  his hand high and brought it down hard.  How many times? 
  Was anyone counting?  The staccato smacks rang around the
  old stone church like gunfire.  Jonathan yelled and
  kicked his legs almost from the first, entertaining the
  viewers in the pews no end.  His three watching siblings
  were not so pleased.  Whatever the littlest one of them
  got, the others were sure to get more.  The little boy's
  bottom went, pink   red   crimson, but the spanking went
  on until at last the merciful father dropped his heated
  son onto the cold flagstones of the floor.
  
  The sobbing child was led by the ear back to his place in
  the line and little Lucy was chosen to take his place
  across her father's knees.  Lucy's small bottom was
  narrow, but surprisingly prominent.  Her father's hand
  stretched right across both cheeks, but he slapped hard
  all over, sides as well as top.   Lucy behaved much as
  her brother had, kicking her long, slender legs and
  yelling her pretty little head off.  Like him her
  squirming bottom opened enough to reveal her puckered bum
  hole, but whereas he had shown his scrotum between his
  stretching thighs, Lucy showed a little slit like a
  miniature replica bottom.  Once Lucy's buttocks were
  highly coloured, she too was dumped on the stone floor
  before being led back to join her brothers as her sister
  was taken by the ear to the seat of correction.
  
  Marcia had watched her little brother and sister getting
  soundly spanked and the apprehension of her own
  punishment was making her sob already.  Her previously
  neat hair now hung like a straggly  shawl over her
  shoulders.  She went over her father's knees with moan of
  misery and promises of repentance.  Neither  benefited
  her as the Reverend Daniel Shore raised his hand and
  began to spank his pubertal daughter's fat little bottom. 
  How poor Marcia kicked and struggled!  How she wept and
  wailed!  What entertainment she gave the people in the
  pews.  What fun it was to see the priggish twelve year
  old utterly naked and having her bottom soundly spanked
  while she wriggled wildly and threw her legs about
  without concern for the intimate views she gave her
  audience, until at last she was discarded onto the
  flagstones.
  
  Finally, once Marcia was returned to the minister's
  flock, it was the turn of Matthew.  The teenage lad tried
  to be brave as he was led towards the chair, but his long
  hairless cock swung as his knees wobbled.  He went across
  his father's knees knowing that his tough exterior pose
  hid the true terror inside.  He was not so much
  frightened of the pain   bad though he knew that would be
    but the humiliating exhibition he was about to make of
  himself.  Matthew was a sporty lad, and so well used to
  the bumps and bruises of the rugby and soccer fields, but
  the sustained spanking of his boyishly muscular cheeks by
  his father's heavy hand soon had him contorting his body
  in agony as the burning pain spread through his buttocks. 
  His strong legs flailed the air and before long the
  congregation had the chance to compare his developing bag
  of balls with his young brother's immature sac.  And, try
  as he might, the growing lad could not contain his yells
    still shamefully high pitched   as the spanking went on
  and on.  After a horribly long time, Matthew too was
  dumped on the cold floor.
  
  Once again the Reverend Daniel Shore made his children
  show themselves from every side to the enthusiastic
  congregation.  Most of the parents were now so fascinated
  by what was going on before their astonished eyes that
  they had ceased to notice their own kids were clambering
  on the pews to get a better view of their unfortunate
  schoolfellows.  These four crying children rotated slowly
  showing off every side of their bare bodies while the
  public compared the redness of their bottoms and how the
  depth of colour related their ages and physical
  development.  Meanwhile, their father returned to the
  pulpit where he continued to rant about sin and
  retribution to the deaf ears of his congregation. 
  However, when the Reverend Daniel Shore produced a curly-
  handled length of whippy rattan from behind the
  panelling, the non-listeners sat up and took notice.
  
  "The Bible speaks to us of a rod, and so this must be the
  major implement of correction for our recalcitrant
  children," he boomed wrathfully.  "Thus, by way of
  further example, I shall now thrash my own unruly
  offspring with this cane."
  
  With these words the minister descended the steps from
  his high and mighty pulpit to the level of a stern father
  confronting his own naughty kids.  These watched his doom
  laden approach with wide and wet eyed misery as he cut
  the air with a swish and a whoosh.  He placed the chair
  so that the seat was now towards the congregation and
  said to his youngest child:
  
  "Jonathan, you shall approach this chair and rest your
  forearms on either side of the seat, gripping the
  backrest with your hands.  You shall then put your head
  on the seat between your arms.  Make sure you keep your
  legs straight."
  
  The little boy took up this position, which he had on
  occasion assumed before, though then always in the
  privacy of the vicarage.  His bottom was now bent, with
  the skin tightly stretched, towards the audience.  His
  father announced.  "I shall give this boy six strokes of
  the rod."
  
  The vicar swung his arm and the cane whistled down to
  land with a sharp CRACK across the boy's tight bottom. 
  Jonathan yelled loudly as the stick struck his already
  hot sore bottom.  For an instant a white line appeared on
  the red skin but this was immediately replaced by a
  purple-red weal across the small cheeks.  Five more times
  the cane sang down.  Five more times came the sound of
  stick striking skin.  Five more times the boy screamed in
  pain as five more red lines sprang upon his tender flesh.
  
  Jonathan was replaced at the chair by his sister Lucy. 
  She assumed the same position with which she too was all
  too familiar.  "This girl," her father announced, as
  though she had nothing to do with him, "was to have
  received eight strokes of the rod.  However, because she
  failed to remove all she was wearing when instructed to
  do so, but deliberately kept on a gaudy bracelet, I shall
  add one stroke more."
  
  So for little Lucy the cane whistled down nine times,
  completely covering her tiny bottom with weals while she
  cried and stamped her feet, but it was remarkable that at
  no time did she leave go of the chair back or bend her
  knees to dodge the full force of a blow.  Clearly these
  were well trained children.
  
  Marcia was next to approach the chair.  She seemed almost
  to have forgotten her humiliating state of public nudity
  in her fear of physical punishment.  She bent and
  stretched her broad bottom for a beating.  Her father
  pronounced sentence, "This girl was to have been given
  ten strokes of the rod for her sins, but as she did not
  take off her glasses or hair bands I shall increase this
  to twelve."
  
  So a dozen times the cane cut across the priggish
  schoolgirl's already inflamed cheeks   except this was a
  baker's dozen as her father was dissatisfied with one
  stroke, claiming his daughter had tried to pull her
  bottom forward at the crucial moment of impact, and so
  had another whack.  By the time he had finished his
  bawling daughter's bottom was a mass of swelling ridges,
  some of which crossed.
  
  When Marcia was allowed to join the other two caned
  children to cavort around clutching their well-wealed
  bottoms, it was the turn of Matthew.  But now the
  Reverend Daniel Shore had new reason for outrage. 
  Whether it was from the heat generated by his own
  spanking; or the sight of his siblings being caned;  or
  the nervous tension created by the imminence of his own
  thrashing; but Matthew's circumcised cock slowly raised
  its bulbous head and stretched a few inches closer to the
  hammer-beamed roof of the medieval church
  
  "What is this?" demanded his father, painfully tapping
  the offending erection with his cane.  "How dare you be
  in such a state within the house of God!"
  
  Half the congregation guiltily squirmed on their pews at
  this denunciation as nearly all the males in the church
  from eight to eighty-eight - and below and beyond - had a
  similar stiffness hidden in their trousers.
  
  The poor boy marched towards the seat with his stiff cock
  wagging like a wand in front of him.  He wished the
  flagstones would slide apart and the earth swallow him
  up.  Whatever would pretty Rowena think of him now?  He
  bent over like his brother and sisters and his father
  said, "This boy was to have had twelve strokes, plus
  three for not removing his watch, but to this I now add
  another five because of his disgraceful lack of control."
  
  Twenty!  Even Colonel Dashforth flinched at this,
  remembering his own beatings at Eton.  But it was to be. 
  The strokes were delivered by the resolute arm of the
  Reverend Daniel Shore in blocks of five strokes and long
  before the end Matthew was howling loudly, all thoughts
  of trying to impress the lovely Rowena by his courage at
  least banished from his mind by the severity of the pain. 
  Curiously, when Matthew was allowed up at last and was
  able to hop, skip and jump around the church yelling loud
  enough to awaken the dead in the churchyard beyond, his
  erection had not diminished one little bit.
  
  After the children's bawling had been reduced to mere
  sobs, the congregation sang a final hymn   "All Things
  Bright and Beautiful"   and received the blessing from
  the vicar along with the injunction to follow his
  example.  The people streamed outside to the watery
  spring sunshine.  There a shock awaited some of the
  juvenile part of the churchgoers who had so enjoyed that
  day's service.
  
  "Just wait till I get you home," announced a mother to
  her sons of ten and twelve.
  
  "You are going to be feeling my hairbrush on your little
  bottom." another promised her eight-year old daughter.
  
  "I wonder where we can get a cane like the vicar's?"
  mused a husband to his wife while their three children  
  a thirteen-year-old girl and boys of eleven and nine  
  looked at each other in shocked disbelief.
  
  There were a few dissenting voices of course. 
  "Shocking!" and "Disgraceful!" were heard here and there,
  but the majority seemed to support the vicar's stance on
  spanking.  Some, indeed, took his example absolutely to
  heart.
  
  One mother quickly stripped her children, snapped a
  switch from the hedge and whipped her eleven-year-old son
  while her naked nine-year-old daughter stood by shivering
  with cold and fear.
  
  A burly father tucked his seven-year-old daughter under
  his left arm, pushed up her skirt and pulled down her
  knickers.  Then he spanked her bare bottom as he walked
  home while she screamed and kicked and her mother looked
  on approvingly.
  
  A struggling fourteen-year-old girl stood in the grip of
  her father while her mother calmly removed her skirt and
  then took off her tights and panties to leave her bare
  from the waist down with the promise of plenty of
  spanking to come.
  
  And finally there was Rowena Dashforth, in the care of
  her grandparents while her own mother and father were
  abroad.  What was to happen to her?