Saturday, 20 September 2014

A Moral Education

CORK 1969

It was a boring Tuesday afternoon, at St.Thomas school for boys. A boredom that Kevin Clary was determined to break, as the unofficial class joker he saw it as his duty, and this week he had a secret. A secret that would throw Father Morgan's moral education class into disarray, and cause more trouble than Kevin could ever imagine.
The whole idea of a man in a dress, with a vow of celibacy coming into to school, to educate fourteen-year olds on sexual relationships had always seemed strange to Kevin.
Then again middle age virgins, giving sexual advice to the girls was just as odd though the only advice the nuns ever handed out was - keep your legs crossed, and your drawers on.
So today Kevin decided to embarrass the young priest, and now he had a question to do that.
As always, Father Morgan started the class off by informing the boys if they had any questions, any questions at all just to ask. Now was Kevin's moment, his hand shot straight up.

"Father, I was wondering if you could tell me, why does my sister and her friend Claire, frig each other off?"

The class gasped almost as one voice; the priest glared at him.
"Get out into that corridor now!"

As Kevin stood outside, he began to doubt the wisdom of his question. Then upon seeing the incandescent priest coming towards him, he knew he was in deep trouble. Deep trouble, unless he could deflect the trouble elsewhere, elsewhere being upon his sister.
As Father Thomas marched him down to the head's office, by way of pulling him by his ear, Kevin formulated his tale of woe.
Once in the office Kevin told the head, and the still fuming young priest, about all the ructions in his aunt's house last Sunday morning.

It would seem his sister Amy, and her friend Claire, both student nurses, had been out on the town last Saturday night. It was too late for Claire to get home as she lived over the other side of Cork: so she stayed the night, sharing Amy's bed, not such an unusual thing. Only on this occasion, whether it had been one-half too many of the black stuff or a port and lemon over the top. Whatever it was, something had made the girls a little more boisterous than normal.
When the two girls had got into bed, and started talking about the lads they had been with in the pub, one thing led to another, and they experimented with a little mutual masturbation. The only trouble with this was Amy's aunt walking in and caught them both, then all hell broke loose, and Kevin heard it all.

Now Cork in 1969 was not a place big on gay rights, not that either girl was even gay, drunk maybe, but gay, no.
The shocked and the now well stirred, head and priest both knew that something had to be done about the situation. It was time to make a call to Monsignor O'Hanlon, the chaplain of the nursing college; Kevin's snowball had started its descent, and was gaining both size and momentum. Although, poor Amy and Claire were still none the wiser of today's unfolding events.
The Monsignor called the shop where Kevin's aunt worked, and asked for her to call into see him. Of course, this was not so much as a request, as an order, such was the power of the church in those days.
After aunt Patricia had explained, how she had been taking care of Amy, and Kevin for the last four years and that, for the most part, Amy was a good girl, as modern nineteen-year olds go.

The Monsignor pointed out that the church had the means to deal with this sort of thing. All it would take would be the signing of a few forms. Now, for all that Patricia had often threatened Amy with the Magdalene Laundries, it had never been more than a bogeyman type of threat, a threat that she could never carry out.

The Monsignor smiled to himself.

"Well perhaps, I could take care of things," He said, and Patricia nodded, keen to keep her niece at liberty. "we both know this sort of behaviour cannot go unchecked."

So that is how the two student nurses both ended up making their way down to the chaplains office at six o'clock that Tuesday night.

Now what was about to ensue, had caused a couple of problems for the Monsignor. The matron had declared that this was a hospital problem, and as such fell onto her to sort out. The matron had herself said on a couple of occasions.

"I'm not above putting a slipper across a student's arse, when needs be!".

The Monsignor though was adamant that this fell under his jurisdiction of spirituality, and morality. As in all cases in Eire, the church won out.
Also, the Monsignor was familiar with both girls; Amy the slightly built girl with dark blond hair and Claire the black haired, almost black-eyed girl with a more rounded figure. Yes, he was going to have fun with them, lots of fun, his soldier was already starting to stand to attention at the idea of what was to come.

As the girls made their way to the office, Claire said.
"I wonder what this is all about, fancy being called to see the Monsignor, eh?"

Amy said nothing, just continued in silence, a deep sickly feeling in her stomach. Maybe the weekends events had been too much for her aunt, maybe that was the straw that broke the camel's back. How many times had she heard her aunt say,"any more of that hussy behaviour, and it's off to the Magdalene's for you."

What would happen then, as aunt Patricia and her brother Kevin were her only living relatives, she would be stuck there till she was twenty-six. Seven years of cold baths, and discipline from the nuns, and who would want to marry an ex-Magdalene girl? Even leaving at twenty-six would only be if Kevin came for her when he was twenty-one, if not she could be in there till, till the day she died.
Amy could feel tears welling up inside her, a life sentence, just for a bit of what was no more than, girlish foolery!

When they entered the room, Amy almost burst into tears of joy, as she saw the strap and the cane lying on the Monsignors table.
Claire, on the other hand, was shocked to see these scholarly instruments of correction, her eyes flew around the room, then looking at Amy, she realised why they were there, their secret was out.

"Well girls I expect you know why you have been called here?"Asked the Monsignor, and both girls glumly nodded.

"Good that saves my having to interrogate you both, about your lewd and unnatural behavior. Now better to my first reaction, after hearing about what went on, I have been persuaded to deal with this myself, here and now. To help cleanse the soul, I plan to punish the body. You will both receive six with the strap across you hands. Three on each hand, to remind you what your fingers are NOT for. Then you will both receive six strokes of the cane across your bare bottoms, to teach you of your moral laxness."

"Please Father you can't cane our bare's just...just not right..not at our age." Cried Claire.

"At your age? You are still in the eyes of the law children, twenty-one before you are adults; also, the humiliation of having your bottoms bared will be a further lesson to you. If I had my way the punishment would take place in front of the whole student body, as a lesson for everyone, so think yourselves lucky that it will take place in the privacy of this office." He replied picking the strap up from his desk. "I think as you have so much to say for yourself, we will start with you Claire."

Now neither girl was a stranger to corporal punishment, as in Eire in the nineteen sixties, it was applied liberally both, in the home and at school. So Claire knew from her schooldays, what was expected of her. She held her right hand out, her left hand supporting her forearm from underneath. The Monsignor adjusted the height of Claire's hand with little taps of the strap till it was at the optimum position; Claire closed her eyes tightly shut.
Then she felt it, like a firebrand across her fingers, as she screamed out, and automatically thrust her burning hand into her left armpit, this was so much worse than school.

"That's one Claire, hand out again please, we don't have all night." By the time Claire received her sixth stroke of the strap, tears were running down both cheeks, and her fingers felt three times their normal size. The Monsignor's aim was accurate; each stroke landed square across her fingers; she could barely move them, the pain was so bad.

"Right girls swap places."

As they changed places, Amy saw the look of despair in her friend's eyes. For all that Amy was glad that this is as far as it would go, it didn't lessen the dread in her.

"Handout, please Amy."

Shaking she put her hand out in the time honoured tradition.
The first blow fell, it was so much worse than at school, the difference being it was a male dishing it out, and also, it was the fingers, not the palm that was taking the belting.
By stroke three, like her pal before her, she was also in tears, though bearing it a little more stoically, than Claire had. Swapping hands was the worst part; she could hardly grip her forearm, of course, that was the idea, to teach them to keep their fingers under control. At last it was all over, well at least half over, of course, the worst was still to come.
The Monsignor pulled his chair out from behind his desk, and then proceeded to pull out of his pocket a little sweet tin, and sat down on his chair.

"Right Claire over here, please."

Claire moved towards him, in no hurry to get there. Upon reaching him, she just said.

"Please Father, we've learned our lesson."

"Perhaps you have my child, but the punishment is still to do."
With that, he grabbed hold of her uniform dress at the front and lifted it clear up over her hips.
Then opening his little tin, he pulled out a couple of safety pins and pinned it up. Roughly turning her around, he then did the same at the back. Amy could see the embarrassment on her friend's face as she stood in front of her, bare belly showing above the waistband of her black woolly tights. Amy wanted to hug her friend, and give her some support, but she knew that would be out of the question, and she also knew, that, in a couple of minutes, they would again be swapping places.
Then with no word of warning, the Monsignor grabbed at the waistband and quickly lowered both Claire's tights, and knickers in one deft movement. Claire burst into tears again as her black pubic triangle came into Amy's View.

"Right Claire over my desk, please that's right tummy right down, arch your back a little, I want your bot right up."

Amy watched as her friend got into position, bent over, legs clamped tight together.

"No, not like that Claire, feet wide apart, as wide as your tights will let you;  I don't want you to lose your balance."

As Claire spread her legs, her sex came into full view under her rounded bottom cheeks. Amy could feel the tears running down her face as she knew in a couple of minutes that this would be the view that she would be offering up.
Without a word of warning the cane lashed down across Claire's naked bottom.

"Jesus, ye fff......! Sorry, father." Cried out the miserable Claire, as she jumped up, desperately rubbing her bottom.

"Any more blasphemy and it will be extra strokes, and you must stay in place."

Claire retook her place over the desk.

WHOOSH! Again the cane fell onto her, again she jumped up, this time rubbing her bottom and hopping from foot to foot. Turning to face them both, this time not caring that her luxuriant black bush was again on display.

"Please father I can't take anymore.PLEASE!"

Claire's antics were proving to be a problem to the Monsignor; he toyed with the idea of getting Amy to hold Claire's hands, to keep her in place. Then he had a much more entertaining idea, at least entertaining for him.
He sat back down on the chair and motioned for Claire to stand by his side. Leaning forward so she could actually feel his hot, heavy breath on her sex, he started to unbuckle her flat black shoes. After taking each shoe off her, he then removed her tights, and knickers completely, he then stood up, and moved the chair into the middle of the room, much to the two nurses confusion.

"Right Claire, I would like you to lie back across the chair, resting your lower back on the seat."

Claire struggled to get in place, and keep her balance.
"Amy will you move around the other side, one leg either side of you friends head."

Still in a state of confusion, Amy followed the clerics instructions. Now Amy's uniform dress was covering her friend's face.

"What I would like you to do Amy, is hold your friend's ankles, to help her keep still."

He then took hold of Claire's feet, and lifted them high up, so Amy could grab her ankles, but as well as lifting them, he parted her legs, so her lower body was now in an obscene V shape. No doubt Amy thought giving the monsignor a view that only a woman's husband or her doctor should ever have.

Amy's mind was in a whirl; the whole room now seemed to be holding an erotic charge. As the Monsignor picked up the cane, he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at her friend's sex, from where Amy stood it looked like an open oyster, from his viewpoint he would be able to see the pearl in the shell also.
For the first time, Amy saw him for the man he was, and not just a cleric. Quite handsome, in a stately way, late forties, or early fifties, jet black hair now greying around the temples, quite slim, and fit for his years.
Standing there, holding Claire's ankles, whilst feeling her friend's face against her inner thighs, as she struggles to keep a balance on the seat. Knowing in a couple of minutes that she too will be feeling the same pain and humiliation. All these emotions were sending waves of alternating, fear, and elation through her psyche.

The Monsignor knew he would have to act swiftly. He could tell the two young student nurses could not hold this position for long, and as he stared down at the virginal (presumably) girl in front of him, he knew he had to act, and he longed to take his hardness in hand, but that will have to wait.
He struck.
He struck quickly, so quickly that Claire was still reacting to the first of the four remaining strokes as the fourth one fell upon her. Amy could feel Claire's head shaking back, and forth, her face, and her tears, hitting off both of Amy's still covered thighs.

Dropping the cane to the floor, he grabbed Claire's legs, and to Amy's mind, gently helped the inconsolable girl back to her feet, upon giving her a hankie for her tears he led her to the rear of the room.
Amy swallowed hard; her time had come. The Monsignor sat back upon the seat and fished out four more safety pins out from his little sweet tin.

"I wonder if he always carries that with him," Amy thought to herself as she found herself walking unbiddenly to his side.

As before the uniform dress was lifted high above the uniform tights. He then made a move to he shoes and stopped.

"Amy, do you think you will be able to hold the position across the desk?" He asked as Amy nodded vigorously.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Father, I'm sure."She replied as she didn't want to be in the position that Claire had ended up in; also, knowing how seeing her friend's punishment had effected her; she didn't want the priest to see her wanton dampness. She stood before him knees shaking in fear?
Or excitement?
She now really didn't know which.
With out a further word, he pulled down her tights, and knickers, in again one, fail swoop. Amy wondered how many times he had had to do that movement, to become so accomplished at it.
Without any instruction, she took up her place across the desk; grabbing hard at the side, her swollen sausage fingers pained at the grip, but she knew she must hold on.

Stroke one.

The impact came first, which was bad enough,then the heat started to emanate from the target area, but she didn't call out.

Stroke two.

She remembered talking to a boy, of her age, when they were both at school, she asked what a caning was like.

"Ah, it's nothing, I can take six standing on me head, no doubt about that." The liar, she thought but still did not call out.

Stroke three.

This time a gasp of pain from her, as she looked at her knuckles going white as she held on, she was now looking through a sea of tears.
Stroke four, stroke five, stroke six.
All landed in quick succession, but don't think for a moment they were any less hard than the previous three, they weren't. As the sixth one landed, she jumped up in pain and shouted out, between the sobs. Like Claire, she also hopped from one foot to the other, oblivious to her nudity, more concerned about stamping out the pain.
After allowing both girl's time to compose themselves, the Monsignor spoke.

"I hope that has been a lesson well learned. For the next seven days, each morning, before you start work upon the wards, I want you at the college hospital chapel; where you will then, both do a full stations of the cross."

Both girls nodded glumly.

"Now I want you both to kneel over there by the door, and reflect for ten minutes, on the foolishness that brought you here."

It was going to be a long ten minutes for all three of them, as now the Monsignor's little soldier, still at attention, desperately needed some attention.


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