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@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ BLAZING BAPTISTS (c)1995 by AV Systems, Inc.@END_FILE_ID.DIZ Chapter 1: Monday Morning Framed in the multipane window of Dr. Fenwick's study, the view is prettier than a painting. Indiana farms framed by split rail fences built by God-fearing people certify the order of Jefferson County and Middleburg's First Baptist Church is the benchmark. Monday morning is a quiet time in a pastor's office. A day alone, no secretary, he can reflect on the week that was and the one to be, but wonders why young Mrs. Brown wanted to see him privately? The strain in her voice was clear. His favorite parishioner; he married the young beauty to Gordon Brown III, second son of a landed squire. Teaching Sunday School brilliantly to teenagers, who love her dearly, youthful, beautiful and poised; she is perfect. Cloaked by farms guarded by Sycamore sentries, Middle- burg is served by covered bridges. But, on this day in 1957 things look very modern through the window of Dr. Fenwick's office when young Mrs. Brown's new Chevrolet Bel Air pulls into the parking lot. She emerges from the car a vision of loveliness in a full skirt and white blouse. The cute rounded collar makes her look more like an English school girl than a middlewest- ern matron. She wears a broad white hat that all but covers her lovely face. Elizabeth is never without a pair of fashionable pumps with high heels clicking curtly on the curved walk, she struts to his office in a cadence of seem- ing confidence. He opens the carved wooden door. "Good morning my dear." he says with more than perfunc- tory politeness. She flashes a smile, but on her face are lines of concern only a pastor can see. "Please, come in and sit down, my dear." Wordless, she enters the office alighting on a chair before his desk. Crossing her lovely legs and twirling one pump restlessly, she perches pensive- ly. He closes the door and takes his seat. "How is marriage my dear?" he asks brightly. Her cheeks flush; she responds, "It's not quite what I imagined, but..." She draws a deep breath and stares at the his old fraternity paddle hanging on the wall. More a trophy of college days than a tool of his trade, he has put it to use but a few times and most recently when one of Elizabeth's students uttered the "F" word in her class. Had something of this sort happened again? Dr. Fenwick let the moment fix. The paneled office, graced with cases of religious and philosophical tomes fea- turs an alter with Jesus on the cross starring down in his death agony. With bronze blood oozing from carved wounds, he documents the Christian passion for pain. As music is the arrangement of sound to produce an emotional response, then religious sculpture is the creation of symbols for power. She looks down for a moment, then up at Dr. Fenwick, "I hope you won't think me inappropriately curious, but I wonder of the way you paddled Donney Miller, the day he, well..." "Oh yes." he interrupts to avoid direct reference to Donney's sinful utterance. Mrs. Brown brought him directly to the sanctuary office and on her complaint alone, Dr. Fenwick inflicted severe corporal punishment. "Do you have doubt, Elizabeth?" "Oh no! It happened! And, you were right, but why did you ask me to leave the room?" He blushes. Surprised to feel warm cheeks at 40, but courage carries him through. Struck with the bloom of Elizabeth's youthful womanhood, he can only roam over the curves of her cheeks, chin and it's dimple. Her's is the loveliest face in the county and here she is in the morning light of a new day, in a new week, asking a question he strains to answer. "Elizabeth," he begins with difficulty, "we do that sort of thing... uh, bareback..." He is clearly embar- rassed to say the paddle is applied to naked flesh. "This is really not a discussion on which we have to delve, Mrs. Brown. Is it?" he says reminding her of her position. She drops her gaze to her foot and draws a breath as she twirls her pointy pump, directing him away from his point, but Dr. Fenwick savors the seconds when he can stare at her fine, long leg, perfect ankle and artfully curved shoe. The moment freezes until leaves flutter in a rush of spring air telling of a coming storm. Hanging from a single peg, emblazoned with the symbols "TKE," the old paddle hangs in repose tellin of wood grain memorialized in stain and shellac. How could anything so beautiful have as it's only purpose the delivery of pain? "Tau Kappa Epsilon" she proclaims, breaking the moment. Her mind has been as busy as his has been blank. While he ponders the space where his feelings founder, she gathers strength in the darkness she seeks to illuminate. "Yes," he responds with a smile, "my old fraternity. Probably the greatest days of my life." He grins only for a moment, but quickly adds, "Save those of my marriage. Poor Mildred..." His eyes drop. "We all miss her so..." consoles Elizabeth. "She was such a fine woman. And, to go that way..." "She is with God..." intones Dr. Fenwick. "Could I hold it?" she asks. Dr. Fenwick is surprised, but without question rises to take the board from the wall and hands it to the fair Eliza- beth. "This will be the first time I've taken it from the wall without using it. Perhaps I shouldn't break tradition." Her eyebrows rise. Then she smiles slightly and blinks, but says nothing, clearing her throat. "What is your interest, Elizabeth?" he asks. "Dr. Fenwick," she begins. "When Donney uttered that word in my Sunday school class, I thought I would die!" She pets the paddle as if it were a cat and continues, "But then, with one spanking you made him a new person. He's been wonderful since. Is it a miracle?" "That is a good question, Elizabeth. A fair question indeed." Dr. Fenwick sits back in his armchair to ponder, putting his fingers together not in prayer but in thought, defining a sphere in space as if he were holding a crystal ball. "Is it a miracle? I can only say if spanking is suffi- ciently severe, they seem... Yes, they see the light of God!" He looks up in revelation as the young woman contin- ues to pet the paddle. "Of what is it made?" she asked pleasantly. "Oh this is ash. A very tough wood." "Its so smooth..." she coos. "Not on the receiving end." "What does it feel like?" Well, it's difficult to explain, easy to demonstrate, but painful to appreciate." he smiles, but now his curiosi- ty is rising, along with a new warmth in his genitals. "What do you really seek?" he asks. She runs her long fingers over the paddle and says, "I think it is here, Dr. Fenwick." she sucks a deep breath. "I believe it is right here... The miracle you achieved in paddling Donney Miller is one I need now." "You have another candidate for spanking?" "Yes." she looks down for a moment. "And who would that be? Someone who has been bad in Sunday School?" "Not someone who has been bad, but someone taken by the Devil." "The Devil?" "Dr. Fenwick," she blurts, "it's me! I need this! Please rid me of Satan!" She looks down and covers her face with both hands, but then as she starts to cry, the paddle falls to the floor. Dr. Fenwick rises from his chair to pick it up and as he holds it in his right hand, touches her on the shoulder with his left. "Tell me what you mean, my dear." he orders. She lifts her blushing face and begins to explain. "When Gordon fell in love with me I knew I didn't really love him. I liked him a lot, but he is such a boy and..." "Are you going to tell that you favor his older brother Tod?" "Oh Dr. Fenwick!" she exclaimed, "Does it show?" "Not really my dear, but old preachers are intuitive and..." "You're not an old preacher, Dr. Fenwick." "Well, I'm 40 and I'm a widower. I feel old, but we're not discussing me." "I love Tod, but he has never married, and I don't think he ever will. He's, well, different." "Tod is very sophisticated." "Yes, he wants to go to New York to become a hairdress- er, but his father won't hear of it. He wants Tod to learn the family business, swine husbandry." "So you thought you would eventually fall in love with Gordon?" "Oh yes, I did and I will, but I have to get Tod out of my system. The Devil is in me. Please Dr. Fenwick, help me! Spank the devil out of me!" "Elizabeth, my dear, you've done no wrong and I don't think the paddle will solve your problem." he says as he places it on the desk and returns to his seat. "Let some time pass. Have a baby with Gordon, then you'll turn to him with all the love God will give you." "Pastor," she sobs, "Gordon is sterile. He had mumps as a child and perhaps that is why I want Tod so much. He could give me a baby!" Dr. Fenwick sees the young woman's dilemma. She has become obsessed with Tod sinfully. "My dear," he begins, "I think we should go to God for guidance. Let us retire to the sanctuary and kneel before the alter." The rectory office had been an architectural after- thought and the hall to the main sanctuary is narrow,long and winding to a door just behind the pulpit. He opens the door and leads the way to the altar where they kneel before white shrine featuring Jesus on the Cross. "Dear God give us direction. Elizabeth is deeply trou- bled and has asked for a way to deal with her problems. Please God, give us a sign." He is silent and Elizabeth closes her eyes. Then he looks on her loveliness. There on her knees, her head bowed and eyes closed, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, he can only wonder what could be troubling this incredible creature of God's creation. The collar gracing her long neck and cravat give her a school girls aura, but she is a woman. Her skirt is full, virtual- ly in bloom, and from it jut her long legs and pure white pumps with slim high heels. Dr. Fenwick is very erect. In the distance a thunderstorm blasts a lightning bolt to earth and they feel it in their stomachs and knees. "Oh God!" she exclaims, "I that's it!" Her voice is like a bell ringing in his brain. "Yes!" he agrees. Now he will oblige her. Elizabeth will be paddled! Paddled severely. The Devil be damned! Elizabeth opens her eyes and turns to Pastor Fenwick. "Please Dr. Fenwick, help me." "God has spoken, Elizabeth, and I will..." "Oh thank you." she exclaims with great warmth. Somewhat surprised by the quick resolution of the issue, Dr. Fenwick finds it necessary to remain on his knees for a while so he chatters while he tries to gain control of his genitalia. "Elizabeth," he begins, "we have to proceed carefully as we want to be discreet and serve God." "Oh yes, Dr. Fenwick." she says with great reverence. Her relief and anticipation are clear. "I feel better already..." He has administered a few paddlings to miscreant boys in the congregation, but this would be his first female and he has to think it through. "When do you want to do this?" he asks gingerly, biding for time. "Now." she replies without hesitation. "Gordon is gone for a few days and I'll be alone." "All right." he gulps, rising and giving her his hand. In silence they return down the dark hall to his of- fice, closing the doors behind them. He locks the reception room door and says, "Wait out here, Elizabeth. I want you to pray and I need to prepare." She smiles and sits. Back in his office Dr. Fenwick improvises preparations for an exorcistic paddling as the thunderstorm builds. He places a heavy straight-backed chair in front of the wall facing Jesus on the Cross. Christ would look down on the proceedings. Then he ties two purple sash cords to the side arms just below the seat. He retires to his desk where he makes notes and rehearses what he will say during the ritu- al. It is all very important if it is going to be effective and have the proper prayerful tone. Meanwhile back in the reception room Elizabeth watches the old church clock click off the seconds and minutes while lightning blasts outside. The anticipation is almost more than she can bear. She thinks of poor Donney Miller scream- ing and wondering if it will really hurt that much. Still, she wants the devil out of her and it worked so well with Donney, but now she is scared and feels like running! If she left he would not think ill of her. "He'll never mention it." she whispers. But her purse is in the office! Was this God's way of seeing to it that she would be pad- dled? Surely, it is a sign. She wants to rid herself of the Devil's urge to have sex with her brother-in-law Tod. But then she remembers the way Donney Miller sounded when he got ten swats. "Oh my!" she says aloud. The pleading and moaning, but Donney changed from the town bad boy to one of the best boys and found freedom in discipline. "Praise the Lord." she whispers. Her eyes rise to the cross on the wall where Christ hangs on nails. "He died on the cross for me." she intones. Pain is part of Christianity and hers will be tiny compared to His. She will be better for it. She will be released. "How long will he be?" she wonders as the thunder and lightning continue. "Thinking about it is worse than getting it." she remembers having heard and now she's having an anxiety attack. She can't run. Her legs are like rubber and she wonders if she can even walk. Her heart is pounding. The wall clock in Pastor Fenwick's office shows 9:30 AM. The chime makes one "bong" and the doorknob begins to turn. Elizabeth feels the terror of every junior high school bad boy about to "to get it." She cannot stand, but he offers his hand and as she rises says, "Pastor Fenwick, I want to apologize for having made this necessary." "Thank you my dear." He responds. "Come inside." She enters the office and looks at the paddle, now waiting on the chair. Her eyes are like saucers. She is virtually limp and he leads her to the chair, putting her hands on the top. She is trembling. "Let us pray." he intones. "Jesus, guide us and help us rid our beloved Elizabeth of the devil within. Let her see the light. The light of your love." With that he turns to her and says, "Elizabeth, bend over the chair and grab the sides just above the seat." Without a word she bends over it, grabbing the sidearms and in a moment he ties her wrists with the improvized sash cords. "Pastor," she asks, "may I kiss the paddle." He lifts the board to her lips, she leaves a greasy imprint on the shellacked surface. "Oh Jesus," she said, "drive this devil from me." Without a word Reverend Fenwick raises her skirt and throws it up and over her buttocks. She draws a deep breath and utters "Oh!" "Take ten deep breaths, my dear." he orders in a firm voice. She gulps and takes two, saying, "Oh Pastor, I..." "Continue. Don't look back." he orders as he touches the blade to her buttocks to take aim. There will be no backing out now and she pants in anticipation as the sky rumbles as rain begins to fall in sheets. Suddenly another bolt of lightning crashes to earth. As she draws a breath he admires her long legs graced by garter straps and seamed nylons. The tall pumps give her legs perfect curves. She is magnificent and he feels great forces rising within. She takes the tenth breath and he raises the board from her buttocks. "Don't look." he orders, "Straight down and think about why you are here. Now you want Tod and that is a sin." He swings the paddle back and quickly it flashes through the air on its way to: "SPLAT!" It strikes and Elizabeth is surprised to feel only great pressure, no pain! Then her stunned buttocks rebound and overwhelmed nerves come to life. The stinging starts. "Oh!" she draws a breath. "Jesus is the Lord!" he yells and draws back. "SPLAT!" Now there is no wait for stinging. Her heels leave the floor as she rises on her toes and cries, "Ahooooo....." "Out Satan, out from this good Christian!" as lightning crashes near the church. "SPLAT!" "Ahhhhhh!...." she wails as the third blow lands. "Praise the Lord!" he sings and pulls back again. "SPLAT!" "Ahhooo..." she screams and chokes, but no one hears her in the roar of the storm. She gasps and sobs as he pauses for a moment, yelling, "Go down the path to judge- ment. Go to the Lord, he sees you and all your sins. Pray to him!" and he takes a mighty backswing. "Oh God, please stop!" she yells, but... "SPLAT!" The fifth blow lands squarely on her flaming fanny and she can only moan, "Ohhh..." as tears gush from her face and mucous runs from her nose as she gags. "Come to Jesus!" he intones. "SPLAT!" The sixth swat strikes her now brilliant red buttocks and she once again rises on her toes, lifting her heels up and outward. "Ahooo..." she moans like a copulating cat. Reverend Fenwick is silent. Now he only wants to finish the job as thunder continues and lightning crashes ever closer. "SPLAT!" The seventh swat brings only a moan and a great quiver- ing. Elizabeth is incoherent, crying and drooling. "God will forgive you, Elizabeth." he says solemnly. "SPLAT!" The eighth swat lands squarely on her buttocks, but now they are beginning to undulate strangely and she yells another "Ahooo..." He pauses and she manages to yell, "I see it... I see it..." "SPLAT!" The paddle strikes for the ninth time and she can only utter "Ahhhh...." "Praise the Lord!" he yells as he draws back for what would be the last time and... "SPLAT!" "Come to Jesus!" he yells, but Elizabeth jerks upward and shits. Excrement lands with a great "plop" on the hardwood floor and she cries, "Oh God. I see the light! I see Him..." Pastor Fenwick is astounded and kneels down to untie her, taking her in his arms. She is quivering. "Use my bathroom." he orders and she wobbles to the door sobbing. She goes behind it and her crying continues as Dr. Fenwick scrapes the turd from the floor with a dust- pan. In ten minutes she emerges fairly well composed, but when she returns to the office wearing sunglasses and her hat. "Pastor, I don't know how to thank you, but it stings so much I think I'll feel it forever." "I'll walk you to the car." he offers, grabbing an umbrella from the rack. They leave the office between showers and she "clops" down the stairs and the arched walkway to the parking lot. "Oh God," she exclaims, "it hurts! Pastor, you have no idea." He opens her car door and she sits very gingerly, then drives away slowly. Mortimer Fenwick returns to the office, drops into his chair, sits for a long time, not thinking, but wondering what is all means. He knows his world has changed, and changed profoundly as the storm thunders on. After an hour of listening to nature he wanders to the parsonage, exhaust- ed as only a man can be having done God's work. ------------------------------------------- If you wish to receive this novel as a series of emailed chapters, email your request to: avsystem@rain.org