The names, characters, places and events in this story are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. All characters are over the age of 18. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Spanked in Church Ch. 10.
The evening was made for doing nothing so that's what they were doing. John Leandro was sitting with his eyes closed and his feet up on the porch railing. In his hand was an ice-cold beer. Drifting through his mind were the spankings he'd given young Prezlea-Lynn a few days before and then how she'd let him -- even encouraged him -- to take her roughly from behind. As he reminisced, he felt his cock grow larger and stiffer and he idly wondered what it would be like to take his supposed wife, Laura, that way. How good a fuck would she be? He guessed that he'd never find out but he had the very ample charms of Prezlea-Lynn herself to enjoy.
Next to him on the old wooden porch sat his supposed wife, Laura Schulten, herself. She closed her fashion magazine and lay it down on a little side table. Like John, she was an undercover ATF agent who was meant to get close to a very strange pastor and gather intel on his probable gunrunning activities so they could close him down. But it seemed that without submitting herself to a very public and humiliating spanking in Deacon Jedediah Stearns's church they would have no chance of getting close enough as the Deacon only trusted those men who fully committed themselves to his teachings. There was no way that she was going to endure that. She was a modern, liberal, independent woman and she could never debase herself that way like some of the women in the Church of the Loving Holy Rebuke. There had to be some other way of getting the information needed and submitting it to the ATF's Philadelphia office. She shifted in her seat and became aware that there was a slight tingling between her legs at the thought of having to actually subject herself to being spanked by a strong man's firm hand. She tried to push that foolish thought out of her mind.
"John, have you got a minute?" asked Laura.
He swung his feet down from the railing and looked over at her, putting thoughts of Prezlea-Lynn's well-tanned ass away.
"Sure," he said.
Leandro took in the scene. Beyond their small front yard was their suburban street off Boyd Avenue in the small town of West Union deep in southern Ohio. It was a pleasant place seemingly little touched by the troubles of the modern world. There was the back and fro whirring of a lawnmower, a group of small children were playing their version of tag combined with a ball; two women were standing and chatting a few doors down. Further away was the muted background roar of the freeway. Above, skies darkening to indigo in the east showed night was drawing in. The air smelled clean with a hint of pine from a nearby stand.
"I really don't want to be spanked in public. Surely there's some other way we can nail this guy?"
"I don't know. It seems that is how his followers show their loyalty and devotion to him."
"Well, we'll have to come up with something else soon," Laura said.
"It will have to be quick." Taking another swallow of his coke, Leandro turned to his colleague. "Listen, I respect your feelings but consider this, Laura. We both know that gun violence is devastating America's inner cities and most of those guns are obtained illegally. And think what the narcotraficantes are doing in Mexico and Central America. We've seen the photos and videos of what the cartels do and that they kill thousands of people down there. Let alone torturing women. And they mostly do it with guns smuggled down from the states by people like Deacon Stearns."
Leandro paused for breath. He was passionate on the subject and that was why he'd joined ATF in the first place.
"And you won't even take a little hand spanking to try and reduce the flow of weapons? Really? Are you that sensitive? You regard your feelings as being worth more than preventing other women getting raped, tortured and killed? And, don't forget, once this assignment is over we'll probably never see each other again except occasionally at conferences, maybe. I know you intend to go to the head office in DC while I want to be based on the border as that's where the real work is. You'll never ever see West Union again. And Stearns will be in a cell in a Supermax for the rest of his life."
Laura paused for thought. She knew John Leandro was making good points but it wasn't him who would be bent over, bare-assed, her privates on display, getting spanked in public. It would be her. She was about to speak when a Chevy truck pulled up outside their home and a young couple got out the cab. They looked about the street for a moment before spotting Laura and John sitting in the evening shade on their porch. The couple waved and walked up the cement path. John and Laura recognized them from church services.
The man was reasonably tall standing just under six foot. He had a square jaw line covered with designer stubble and a long nose. He wore a green plaid shirt and clean blue jeans. The woman with him had long blond hair tied in a loose ponytail. She had beautiful bright blue eyes above a straight nose and full lips. Her floral print sundress hinted at a trim, athletic body with firm breasts. John glanced over from the approaching couple to Laura. He took in Laura's beauty from her light brown hair with auburn tints to her clear gray eyes and lips now pursed in puzzlement. Glancing down he thought that Laura's boobs were definitely larger than this woman's, although he'd never seen them in the flesh.
By now the couple stood at the bottom of the few steps leading up to the porch.
"Hi, I'm Sam Wolford and this is my fiance, Cora Miller," the man said. He had a local accent and a friendly smile. "We brought these and thought we'd stop by. If we're not disturbing you?"
He held up a six-pack while Cora showed some home made cookies.
"You're very welcome," Leandro told them. "C'mon up."
He fetched out a couple more chairs while Laura brought out some glasses and plates. Sam cracked a few beers and handed them over. They talked about the weather, their jobs, and the chances of the Cincinnati Bengals for the upcoming season as well as the local high school team.
"You've been coming to our church the last few weeks," Sam said at last. "And you gave that Prezlea-Lynn a dam' good whuppin Sunday. It was noticed by the Deacon and those who count."
"She needed it. She's so slow at the till," Cora chipped in. "Like she doesn't want to be bothered."
"That's all changing. She's getting herself a new attitude," Leandro said with a grin.
"Do you run a tight ship at home, too? That Laura here knows who the head of the household is?" Sam asked.
"What! If you mean does he beat me, then no! We're equals here," Laura said with a touch of anger in her voice.
Cora looked over and took another bite of her cookie without saying anything. She dropped her eyes to her lap.
