Forgive Us Our Sins

Jane waited in the hall outside the room on a cold wooden bench. It was 1860 and a cold day for the summer. The wind howled outside the church annexe in which she sat. This was to be her first birching as most girls never did anything to deserve such a severe punishment... but she had. It was a Sunday. She'd attended church that morning with her family, but had stayed behind, alone. Everyone, knew of course, what was going to happen to her, what was in her near future. The shame of that alone was almost too much to bear.

She had already undressed herself, as instructed by her father. All that remained on her body were her black shoes and her long black socks. Her Sunday dress and petticoat lay neatly folded beside her. He, the Reverend, knew she was there, waiting.

Enter!' he said loudly from within the room.

She opened the large, heavy door and walked slowly into the room. Stopping just before the reverend, Mr Cotts. The cold air chilled her skin as she clasped her arms together across her body to afford herself a little protection from the cold, and his eyes. Instinctively she held her legs tightly together. Apart from her long socks and a large pink bow in her hair, all her body was bare before him.

Nervously, she looked around. The room was dark and dingy but for the shaft of light shining in through the very high window... specks of dust danced excitedly in it. She knew this room well. In front of her was a desk, which was usually used by a teacher. The chairs beside it, used by children who were there every Sunday morning. Now, a little later in the day, the only occupants were him and her, and she was there for her punishment! She felt his eyes on her as she stood a few feet in front of him.

She'd only briefly glanced at him as she'd entered the room. Shame and fright preventing her from looking further. He stood upright and straight a few feet in front of her. Fully dressed in a suit and coat. He held the birch in both his hands. She'd only ever heard of this instrument. Now, she dared not look at it too much.

She deserved the birching. She deserved it because what she did was so terrible. So filled with shame was she that the only resolution could be pain. Only then could she move on, soothe her wounds and put it behind her.

This man, who was more than twice her age, was a friend of her father's. Jane knew him quite well; he'd conducted all the family weddings and christenings and always came to family events. The man who ate with her and her family was now going to beat her. How would she ever look at him again?

She did not know what his instructions were, only that she was to comply with all aspects of her punishment until it was over. No doubt this man relished his task, though he didn't show it in his face.

'Arms at your sides, Girl,' he said sternly.

'Now, walk over to the desk, kneel on the stool and bend right forward over the desk.'

He watched her edge towards the desk... slowly, keeping her legs together and very aware of her breasts swaying slightly as she moved forward. She kneeled on the stool of the desk as he said, still keeping her legs close together. She didn't want him to see her most intimate parts if at all possible. He didn't move, just watched quietly as she placed her body over the desk. It was cold and dusty and she could see herself getting dirty already.

Silence followed... and continued. She couldn't see him now, although she hadn't heard him move. He must still be have been watching her.

Her mind wandered to why she had ended up here. Certainly, she was deserving of this punishment. Stealing is one of the most terrible things a person can do! Even worse, to steal from your own family! But how she had coveted the crimson hat in the window of the only clothing store in town. How she had no way of ever having enough money to buy it.

Then she heard him move, his highly polished shoes making loud steps against the wooden floor. He got close and she could feel his presence right behind her. So frightened was she, so humiliated before him. Her body quivering as he watched, endlessly.

Finally the Reverend spoke. His voice loud and clear in that extremely quiet room.

'Jane, you are here today because you have been caught stealing from your father's wallet. Stealing is one of the most severe of sins and for this you will be punished with the birch. Are you ready to comply with your punishment?'

Jane managed to utter 'Yes Sir,' and gripped the edge of the desk. Holding her body tight against it. Her legs squeezed tight so he wouldn't see her intimate parts. She braced herself for the first stroke.

Reverend Cotts, moved slightly to the side of the girl and raised the birch. Using great force he whipped Jane hard across the buttocks. So unaccustomed was he to birching girls, he found it quite difficult to prevent his arousal.

Jane yelped loudly as the birch hit her. A moment passed and the stinging in her bottom got infinitely worse.

'There will be twelve strokes in total Jane,' said the reverend. ''Let's see how well you maintain your position during the final strokes!'.

Cruelly, he delivered nine more strokes with very little time between each one for Jane to recover. Tears fell onto that dusty desk upon which she lay. She'd started to cry after five or six strokes of the birch and now, at the tenth stroke, she was sobbing uncontrollably... but still she held on, determined to reach the end of her punishment and return to her family with head held a little higher than before.

The reverend used all the strength he had to inflict the final two strokes of the birch onto Jane's then very sore and red bottom. She screamed out into the room. The desk beneath her coated in tears, saliva and sweat. Finally, it was over.

'Stand up Jane... your punishment is over. You have absolved the sin of stealing. Return to your family and pray you don't ever fall into such temptation again!'

Jane eased herself off the desk and looked up at him. Her face as red as her bottom and her arms, once again covering her breasts.

'Thank you, Sir,' said Jane before she left the room to return to her clothes in the hallway outside. Once alone, she felt her bottom with her hands. It was very tender to the touch and minute fragments of twigs were sticking onto it. She was incredibly sore, and her clothes over it simply made it feel worse.

Thankful it was over, though, she made her way out of the annexe and towards her home.