When I was 15, my nan was taken seriously ill, so my mum travelled to her bedside with my dad. As it was in school time, they felt that I should stay at home. Normally I would have gone to my Aunt Brenda but she too was on her way to see my nan, so it was decided that I should stay with my best friend Roger and his parents, while Aunt Brenda’s daughter Sarah was also sent to stay with her best friend.
I arrived at Roger’s house at the end of school day on a Friday. His mum soon settled me in and everything went well until the Sunday morning. Mr and Mrs Webb were both very religious and attended a church service in the next town. They both dressed formally and Roger and I were put in our school uniforms.
We arrived at the church – which was really a old hall which had been converted – and I admired Roger’s mum as I walked behind her into the hall. She was short, with flowing brown hair, perfectly permed, and wearing a blue skirt and top.
We sat in the second row and the service began. It was not a traditional-style service, more like a community type church with its own format. There were hymns, though, and I could not resist changing some of the words as we sang. At this, Roger looked at me with a worried face and his mum looked daggers at me. I failed to heed the warning signs, though, and continued larking about, until Mrs Webb had finally had enough. She grabbed me, marched me into a side room and lectured me before smacking the backs of my thighs several times. She then escorted me, feeling very embarrassed, back to my place in church.
At the end of the service, I noticed Roger’s mum talking intently to three other ladies. Roger whispered that I was in big trouble now. I was about to ask him why but didn’t get chance as his mum returned. She spoked to her husband, who then left the church with Roger.
Mrs Webb grabbed me once more and took me back into the side room. There, she calmly told me that I was to be punished for my misbehaviour. After several minutes, the three ladies she had been speaking to came into the room. Mrs Webb told me that they were church elders and they were going to administer and witness my punishment. I was very scared, though at this point unsure as to exactly what my punishment would be.
One of the ladies then opened a locked cupboard and removed a long, straight rod from it, like a school cane without the curved handle. She then turned towards me and said: “Right, young man – you are to receive eight strokes of the cane!” I began to plead with her. I told her she had no right to punish me, as I wasn’t a member of her church. She replied: “You’re in God’s house now and subject to his rules, and correction will be applied.”
Realising there was no way out of it, I agreed to accept the punishment. One of the other ladies placed a stool in the middle of the room and then sat in the corner, and Mrs Webb and the other lady joined her.
Then the lady holding the cane said: “Take off all your clothes, then bend over the stool.” I was now horrified. I again protested but the lady just smiled and said it was the church’s rule that all punishments were administered with the recipient naked.
I stripped slowly and very reluctantly, as you can imagine. When I got to my underpants, I felt myself blush deeply as I realised that despite my predicament, my penis was slowly but surely swelling into an erection. I quickly yanked off my pants, bent over obediently and awaited my fate.
I felt the rod being placed against my bare buttocks, then it was quickly whipped down hard on my bum. The elder repeated the dose seven more times very hard, causing my bum to burn furiously. The lady then told me to stand and face all four ladies – she gave me one more lecture and finished with a prayer. Finally, I was told to get dressed.
Mrs Webb walked me home slowly, then told me to go to my room until lunch. I obeyed and once there, I became aware that my dick was rock hard. I couldn’t resist the temptation to lower my pants again and begin wanking myself off. Luckily, I was not disturbed and had cleaned up and made myself decent when Mrs Webb called me down for lunch. All was clearly forgiven and forgotten – it was as if nothing had happened, except for my constant fidgeting as I sat on my sore, itchy bottom.
Still, I was very relieved when Mum returned several days later to take me home. Mrs Webb told Mum about my caning and she agreed that I had deserved my punishment. Fortunately for me, Mum didn’t think it necessary to add to it when she got me home, and to my utter relief I never returned to that church again.