Megan O'Reilly was just thrilled when she heard Father Ryan's voice on the phone. Since the death of her husband, she had come to trust and appreciate him, and the concern he showed for her and her 4 sons and 2 daughters. Father Ryan told her that he was calling because the church was once again in need of new altar boys. As the boys in the parish grew up, they tended to become involved in sports and other things, rather than the church. He asked if Michael, her oldest son, who had just turned 10, could become an altar boy? She knew that it would be hard for her to get him to church so often, as she had to work at the aircraft factory to support her kids, now that her beloved Tim was gone. Whenever she thought of that fateful day, when the dark blue 1940 Chevrolet sedan with US NAVY on the door pulled up in front of the house, and the chaplain and Navy Captain walked up the steps to tell her, she found that she could not control the tears in her eyes.
Father Ryan, suspecting that her hesitation might be because of the distance that her family lived from the church, and the logistics of bringing Michael to service, volunteered to allow him to stay over in the Parish house, which was next to the church, and run by two elderly nuns. With that thought, she readily agreed, and set up a time next week for Michael to meet with Father Ryan after school.
When she told Michael of the plans, he was both happy, and sad. He felt like he was the "man of the family", even though he was just 10 years old, and enjoyed when his mother would read to him, and tuck him in at night. And, he reasoned, most "men of the family" don't spend time over their mother's lap while their bare backsides are set on fire. All in all, he agreed that this might be a good idea, especially when Father Ryan said that he would help him with his homework, and would even pay him to do chores around the church.
Saturday morning found him at the church, suitcase in hand, as he was to be trained most of Saturday, and would help serve Mass on Sunday, at 4 services. Father Ryan impressed on him the seriousness of the service, and told him that although he would allow humor most places, that Michael was honor bound to not joke around, like he had a reputation of doing, while he was at church. Michael agreed, and turned his little cherubic face up to Father Ryan, his blonde hair covering one of his bright blue eyes, and smiled. At noon time, they took a break, and went to the house, where Sister Emily and Sister Mary had set out lunch for them. Although Michael had seen them at church, he had never met them. His day went well, and he was asked by Father Ryan to help hold some things for the Saturday night Mass. He wasn't officially an altar boy yet, but he could put on a robe and stand around holding things while the others served. He noticed how one boy, Aaron, who he thought was about 12 or 13, seemed very nervous, and actually dropped some of the things he was supposed to be holding. After Mass, the boys went to the Sacristy to take off their robes, when the other boy, Jack, said to Aaron that he didn't envy him any. Then, with a laugh, he left the room. Michael was still waiting for Father Ryan to come in, to see if he needed anything else. Father came in, and Michael could see that his face was almost bright red. He walked up to Aaron, and told him how stupid it was to drop those things. Then, his voice raised, and he began a whole list of Aaron's faults, ending with a comment about going over the the house. Michael didn't know why Father was so mad, but he did know enough to keep his mouth shut, as the three headed to the home. Once there, Father Ryan told Sister Mary that she would need to keep dinner warm, as he and Aaron were going to the basement. She said "tsk" and looked at Aaron long and hard, finally saying something about knowing better, and how his family would be disappointed with his conduct. At that point, Aaron started crying! Father told him that he would have to think about calling Aaron's dad, based upon how he (Aaron) handled himself during his PUNISHMENT (!)
Michael had never even thought of punishment. He wondered what father would do, and why Aaron had tears rolling down his face, and was mumbling apologies to Father, as he was gently pushed toward an unmarked door in the kitchen. Father opened the door, and turned on a light, being followed by the now shaking young boy. Michael was left alone in the room, and didn't know exactly what to do. Soon, he heard a muffled cracking sound, and what seemed to be a muffled cry. Now with all of his younger siblings, and based on his own experience, he was aware of what a "Crack" followed by a cry meant. His curiosity getting the best of him, he checked around again for anyone, and silently slid down the stairs, always at the ready to sneak back up, at the slightest indication that somebody had seen him. He reached the basement, and followed his ears around the corner, walking around a huge gravity feed type furnace. When he snuch a peek around the furnace, his heart stopped, and he let out an audible gasp.
There, in the light, he could see Father Ryan, his back to him, holding a floppy piece of leather, which was cut at the end, into 3 different pieces, reminding Michael of a hand, or fingers. Father was swinging the strap down on the bare, red butt of the crying Aaron, who was hanging with his hands around the neck of Sister Mary, who was bent over at the waist. In bending, she had forced Aaron's backside out, where it waited for the strap. Aaron was crying, and attempting to move his bottom out of the way, but he could not escape the wrath of the strap. Michael watched in fascination as the strap smashed into the boy's buttocks, leaving a white mark which bisected his cheeks. He seemed to himp up and down on poor Sister Mary's back, in an attempt to ease the pain. Michael could see Aaron's bag, with its two large "eggs" between his legs. Father struck several more times, until Aaron's behiind was bright red. When told that they were finished, Sister Mary let the boy down, and he immediately put both hands on his butt, and danced around and around, his little boy pee pee jumping up and down as he jumped! Michael was scared, and fascinated. He rubbed his hands over his own backside, wondering what Father's strap would feel like. Surely if would hurt more than Mom's hand, or occassionally Dad's belt? He was scared, and also somewhat excited, as he felt his own little penis firm up inside his pants.
Not wanting them to know he had been spying, he snuck back upstairs, checking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being seen, when he ran right into the other sister, who was standing at the head of the stairs, watching him. Grabbing him by the arm, she spun him around, smacked his butt with her hand, and pushed him ahead of her down the stairs, Michael was so scared, he did not know what to do. He wanted to run, but could not. Father was putting the strap on a hook, and Aaron had pulled up his pants, although he was still crying heavily, when Michael was pushed into the light. Sister told Father what she had seen, as Michael stood with his head hanging down. Father asked Michael if he had been spying, and he admitted he had. He was asked if he had permission to watch Aaron's spanking, and he had to say no. Father said how disappointed he was. He asked the others to leave them alone. The two sisters went first, followed by Aaron, who had both hands on the seat of his jeans.
Father sat on a wooden chair, and asked Michael to come to him, which he did. He then looked at Michael, and asked him if he understood that what he had done was naughty. Michael said that he did, and hung his head in shame. Father asked him if he knew what happens to naughty boys, and Michael said barely audibly "yes". Father asked him what exactly happened. Michael said that they were punished. Father asked him if he thought he should be punished, and he said yes, in an even lower voice. Father told him that he was happy that he knew right from wrong, and that he would not use the strap on him. Michael looked up, tears in his little blue eyes, and in a hopeful voice asked if he could go upstairs. Father told him not just yet, that they had some unpleasant things to do first. With that, Michael put his hands on his jeans seat, and stared at the priest. Father reached out, and undid his belt, and the top button of his jeans. Then, he unzipped them, and told Michael to turn around. Michael felt hands on the side of his jeans, and felt them fall to the ground. Father lifted him up onto his lap, and pulled the jeans off of his feet, then stood him back up, still facing away. Father stared for a moment at the little boy bottom encased in the worn white briefs. He traced his finger around the two holes in the seat, and then slowly placed his hands in the elastic, and ever so slowly pulled the elastic out, and gently lowered the boy's underpants. The top of the boy's butt crack showed, as the pants were drawn lower. Eventually, then were down all the way, and the priest shoved them down, and again pulled the young boy up onto his lap, as he reached down and removed the briefs from around the boy's shoes. He stared at the boy's little circumcised penis, as it stuck straight out in all its 3 inches of glory. It was as thin as a pencil, with an unusually large head. Standing the boy back up, he again ran his hand over the boy's bottom, running his fingers over the crease at the top of his thighs, and finally gently pulling his cheeks apart, and inspecting his suprisingly pink little hole.
Slowly, he turned the boy, and pulled him up over his lap, forcing him down over his left leg, as he held him in place with his right leg. The fullness of the boys' cheeks and the tight way he was clenching them together gave way as he was pushed down, causing his butt cheeks to open, revealing both his hole, and little bag. Father rested his hand on the boy's right cheek, and suddenly raised it, bringing it down on the center of the cheek, pressing home the blow, by pushing down and not letting up the pressure. Michael's body shot up, as he gurgled out a gasp. He was starting to cry as the priest followed through on his left (inside) cheek. He could see color forming in the middle of the boy's bottom, and the crying told him that the boy was feeling his correction. Moving his hand ever lower, he repeated his strokes, varing only the timing, as he worked his way down both sides, and back up again. By now, Michael was sobbing, tears puddling on the floor, his hands touching the floor, his bottom given up to the punishment, no longer tight, just a flacid, separated little boy butt, redder than it had ever been, radiating heat, with little white hairs showing near the opening to the boy's anus, due to the contrasting red color.
Moving the boy's legs further apart, the priest now let his hand find, and smack the inside of the boy's cheeks, right down the crack, onto, and past the little hole. Stroke upon stroke landed, none terribly hard, but the cumilative effect causing the boy to raise up again, in pain and fear.
Rubbing the burning butt up and down, Father finally lifted Michael up, and stood him in front of him. The boy had tears which were flowing down his face. He had mucus running from his nose, red eyes, and bright red ears which mirrored the color in his little bottom. Father watched as the little boy kneaded his butt cheeks in an effort to ease the pain. He noticed that the previously stiff penis was now nothing more than a little red head against the little boy's bag.
Handing Michael his pants, he told him to get dressed, and come up to dinner when he was able.
Michael stood, hands on butt, tears in eyes, as he watched the priest leave, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into.