Gina met me outside the Immaculate Conception Church for the 11:00 AM Mass. That one was presided over by the youngest priest at that parish, Father Conte. He was about thirty-five, I’d guess.

We didn’t say much as we met outside, and then when we went in. We went to the section to the left in front of the pulpit, and sat about five rows back. Gina was wearing a dress and dark nylon stockings, while I had a white short-sleeved blouse and a light blue cotton skirt. My legs were covered with white stockings that went up to mid-thigh.

At Mass, I felt a dissonance that almost, but not quite, rivaled Alexander Portnoy’s. On one hand, I felt the holiness that seemed to exist inside the building, even if I doubted the literal truth of it that I once believed.

My thoughts were jumbled that day. Chloe, if there is a God or something else watching over you, you can’t hide your true nature. The other parishioners were surely thinking, Look at those two nice girls attending church together. They are an inspiration for our troubled youth of today.

They didn’t know that we were lovers, engaging in a Sapphic affair, even if we were also eventually looking for guys who would fondle and then have sex with us. And it wasn’t enough for me to be involved with only one girl or even two or three. I was starting to covet a fourth one.

The churchgoers couldn’t see the baddest of bad girl panties I had on, which was merely a white thong. I could feel my bare behind pressing through my skirt against the wooden pew seat. There was a twitch in my crotch as I imagined beautiful Antoinette doing everything possible with me. That made me squirm in my seat.

As I had thought before, most people probably couldn’t imagine the strong sexual feelings that girls had. Guys, yes; they were expected to be obsessed with their own horniness. Females were often assumed to be only concerned with the emotional, “romantic” side of love. I was learning that summer that the two sides were very much intertwined.

In one way, I was as out of control as Portnoy, and I imagined sneaking back to one of the Confessionals and masturbating in there. Yet I too was as conflicted as he was. A deeply planted part of my mind considered that all of my sins would be forgiven if I truly asked for my soul to be cleansed. When one has been raised with a religious background, some part of it always sticks with you, no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t.

Outside later, my friend said to me, “You know, Chloe, you certainly look virginal today.”

“Well, I am a virgin.”

Gina could be quite blunt at times. “Yeah? I’m sure your hymen was shredded to bits by your own hands a long time ago.”

I was flushed with anger at her. She noticed but didn’t apologize as she continued. “In some cultures, an intact hymen was considered a girl’s most valuable possession. They would require her to show a bloody crotch after her first time in the marital bed.”

“That’s extremely intrusive. I’m glad we don’t live in such a situation now.”

“It’s not a reliable indicator anyway. It’s a typical male delusion that they can control what we do. Besides, you are definitely not a virgin when it comes to other women.”

I didn’t want to get into digressions. “Look, I do have some things I’ve got to discuss with you. Right now would be great.”

“Oh, so church motivates you? Is this going to be some kind of confession?”

She could always read me quite well, but she was getting better at it even if I found it unnerving. “You could sort of say that.”

“I bet I know what some of it is about, broadly speaking. It’s a nice day. Let’s get something from a deli, and we can have lunch in the park.”

We did that on a couple of rocks that faced each other north of Gun Hill Road. They were just high enough that they were perfect as benches. I wasn’t that hungry, and I made small talk with my friend as she ate her sandwich. “We sat on another one of these once, during the summer. Weren’t these left behind by the glaciers?”

“I remember you asking me about that. No, look at the drill holes in these. You just pack dynamite in them and boom, you blow the rock apart.”

“We were further south that day, down in the woods.”

She could see me picking at my sandwich, but I wasn’t interested in it. She said, “Let’s put these away and we can finish them later. So what’s bugging you today?” We were sitting quite close, and she put her warm right hand on mine.  She said, “You can trust me, you know that.”

I pulled my courage together. “First of all, I did have Antoinette go with me for a meal that day she came into my bakery.”

“So you do like her. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s more than that. It’s that – well, I have a crush on her. It’s like I’m love-struck. It’s been faster than anything I’ve experienced before.”

Gina was trying to josh with me. “What, you don’t have enough female friends already?” She could read the expression on my face. “She is very pretty, even I’ve noticed her. I was going to invite her on an excursion with us soon, but you don’t have to go if it makes you uncomfortable.” She laughed. “Just call in sick that day.”

I smiled to show that I got the joke, but I was mostly faking it. “I’m lust-struck by her too. What is the difference between love and lust anyway?”

Gina was with me, so she had no qualms about revealing her intelligence. I’m sure at Evander, she would never mention such things with the other students. “If I may repeat a quote, ‘If they substituted the word 'Lust' for 'Love' in the popular songs, it would come nearer the truth.’ ”

She liked to play games of throwing out quotes and not mentioning who it was. “Okay, so who said that?”

“It was Sylvia Plath.”

I was never a Plath fan. Maybe it wasn’t a fair judgment, but she didn’t seem to push back enough against her circumstances. But certainly the world had changed a lot between 1963 and 1973.

I was already on my next topic. “You’ve heard what they do at St. Agatha’s Academy, don’t you? I mean what the nuns do to misbehaving girls at that place.”

St. Agatha’s was an all-female Catholic high school a few blocks away on the far side of the train tracks and the Parkway. Gina said, “Interesting how we’ve never talked about this. But, yeah, I’ve spoken to girls who attend that place. The nuns paddle the bare behinds of naughty students.”

“What do they do to deserve that?”

“Oh, the usual things. Being caught smoking is a big one. Talking back, an overall sassy attitude, poor grades, gossiping, and fighting with other students.”

“How about being caught masturbating in a restroom?”

“I can see how your mind works, but I’m not surprised. That probably happens too.” She was getting close to what was bothering me.

“How do they do it, I mean the punishment?”

“They bring them into a room with a sort of wooden trestle to bend over. Then it’s skirts up, panties down, and you better hold on and not try to get up. Ten to twenty swats with the wood on your backside is quite a strong motivator. Sometimes three or four bad chicks are lined up there. That’s about the capacity of the trestle.” She smiled. “It’s called the paddle room, obviously.”

“That seems kind of, I don’t know...” I was saying one thing and thinking another.

Gina didn’t miss much. “I know what you’re thinking of. Some girls have told me that they get aroused – sexually aroused – by the punishment. Some of them do indeed go into a girls’ room afterwards to whack off. Except, they’re so sore that they can’t sit down. They have to bend over again and do it from underneath.” She winked at me. “You wouldn’t be surprised that a hairbrush is quite effective for that purpose. In fact, I think some of the nuns enjoy it too. Underneath their pious exteriors, some of them are expressing their sadistic desires.”

“Could that really be true?”

“Sure, clergy porn goes back a long way. I’ve seen drawings of them spanking girls too. It’s not as intense among Protestants.” She was amused by something. “The Reformation took some of the kinky fun out of being a Christian.” Then she looked at me quite intently. “I think you’d like that done to you too, I mean the punishment. But it’s sort of like a feedback loop where the more you atone and get spanked for your misdeeds, the more you want to get disciplined again.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“You underestimate me. First of all, you’ve seen those magazines – they’re often from England – that Ritchie gets for us. And I admit I’ve had some first-hand experiences with this, my own secrets that even Jenny doesn’t know about. Certainly, I wouldn’t tell Nancy until I know her better.”

I was sure she was going to be honest about Ritchie finally, but instead she said, “I’m not even going to tell you, at least not right now.” Then she asked me about something. “You’ve had fantasies about this, I’m sure of it. Why don’t you tell me about them?”

I had things to tell her about, thoughts that I had kept to myself for weeks. “I had this idea of going back to Confession for the first time in years. Maybe I’d want Father Conte because he’s younger and might understand me better.”

“I’m not so sure about that. He doesn’t know you personally, right?”

“No, he doesn’t, but he’d know there was a young woman on the other side of the grate.”

“I think those guys like a good juicy story every now and then to make up for the boredom of listening to people – like kids – just going through the motions. So what would you tell him? That you are having affairs with your female friends and now you’d like to cheat on them with yet another one? That is not going to fly with him. He’ll probably chide you – a lot – and make you do a ton of penitence prayers.”

“It’s just a fantasy. One happened the first night I was stoned in my bedroom. I could imagine being in the booth and telling him everything.”

“Yeah, but the situation is certainly real enough. Did you expect to be forgiven?”

“Yes, but only if he recommends that I get a hard spanking first. Maybe not from him, but maybe there’s a nun somewhere. I even thought about you doing it.”

“Oh man, Chloe, you are quite a trip. You obviously came while imagining that. As I said about a feedback loop: You feel guilty, but you also want to feel pleasure while you indulge your fetish, let’s call it what it really is.”

My face felt warm with embarrassment, but I knew that Gina was going to have her say about this.

“It’s very common, based on all the magazines they sell. Don’t take this the wrong way, but we could call this ‘Mangano’s Complaint.’ ” She laughed at that but I didn’t. “Look, you can’t get you a reference to St. Agatha’s for a special session. But I can give you what you want, I know what to do with bad girls like you. In fact, come over to the basement in about a half-hour and I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Why do we have to do it that way?”

“Because the game-playing, the verbal side of it, is important. Every dominatrix knows that.” She placed her hand against the side of my face.

“I feel anxious about this.”

“We’ll have a safe word or phrase. You know what that is, right?”

“Sure, I remember that from our time with Ritchie. You used ‘tuna salad.’ ”

“Let’s use that again. It’s unmistakable, and I’ll remind you of it.” I thought she might reveal more insights about Richie, but she didn’t that time.

“So, you’ve been very bad Chloe, but I can make you into a good girl today if you wish. You don’t need the Church to intervene and complicate matters; this will be simple and direct. Meet me over there as I said. If you chicken out first, come over anyway so I’m not left hanging around wondering where you are.”

She examined me closely. “You look very tense. Take a deep breath and try to relax.”

“I’ve never done this kind of thing before. Maybe we should put this off to another day.”

“ ‘Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.’ Another Blake quote; I think I’ve used that one before.” She continued, “I have experience with that side of it, I mean being submissive, and I think you’ll find it to be very cathartic.” Sometimes she liked using hundred-dollar words like that.

“Who did it to you?”

“That’s still one of my secrets. I can tell you it was more than one person. Anyway, you can have a glass of wine over there to calm your nerves if you need it.”

Then she suddenly stood up. Before she left, she said, “Don’t worry, Ms. Pucci knows what girls like you need.”

I blurted out, “You like it too, I mean being dominant.”

“Of course, honey, that should be obvious.”

****

For the next half-hour, I wandered south along the riverbank, passing under the arch that lifted the roadway over the water. The now-forever silent trestle of the Third Avenue el was another level above that.

In a few minutes, I really needed to pee, so I went into the dense summer-time bushes and squatted down. We may not do it as openly as men do, but women will pee almost anywhere if necessary. I had heard about what Jenny had done during her messenger job if stuck in some far-flung part of New York. One of my favorite tales was how she had squatted in a niche under the 59th Street Bridge one sunny afternoon.

If it had been anybody but Gina, I don’t think I could have dealt with my nervousness. It wasn’t quite fear, but an odd sense of anticipation too, of facing the unknown.

Finally, I was walking around my own block a couple of times. Even though I was about five minutes early, I went downstairs and knocked on the door.

“Ms. Mangano?” Well, who else could it be? “Come on in; it’s not locked.”

I walked in and instinctively closed and locked the door. The overhead light was off, but Gina had turned on the table lamp we had salvaged. It was amazing the amount of usable stuff people would throw out and leave on the sidewalk.

She was sitting right in front of the sofa in an armless chair. She beckoned me to come closer. “However, just stand there in front of me. Ms. Pucci has to have a little talk with you.”

That was an indication of how that scene had been informally “scripted” by her. She was following some tropes appropriate for the occasion.

I did as I was told, and I stood there with my hands folded in front of me. She had a water tumbler half filled with wine on the floor next to her, and she offered it to me. “I said you could have a drink first if you wish. You can also have tuna salad if you want some of that.”

I liked how she had worked all of that into her opening statements. I also caught the drift that we would be on a last-name basis. That, I thought, must be some kind of dominatrix protocol.

“No, Ms. Pucci, I don’t like tuna, but I’ll have that drink.”

I didn’t sip it, but drank most of it down quite quickly. When I was done, I gave the glass back to her and she put it aside. I had heard about a scene in The Godfather where Michael gives a last drink to Carlo before he’s taken away.

You’re dramatizing things as usual. You’re going to be spanked, not strangled. Although the term whack had different meanings in these cases.

“Kneel down in front of me. Don’t look so ashamed, look me in the eye. You may have strayed from the straight path, but you can get back on it with my help.”

How is she coming up with this stuff? I knew she had read those magazines and she had also, when younger, been to “religious” instructions once per week like I had been. With her background, she could create the dialogue for this as if she were a screenwriter making up a scene in a movie.     

“I know, Ms. Pucci. What do you recommend for me?” I could be quite trite myself. The two of us should team up and write porno movies. Meanwhile, I had folded my hands in front of myself again.

“I think you know. I’m going to place you over my lap, face down, and I’m going to spank your bare behind. You should know that I’m going to be quite vigorous with you.” That sounded hackneyed too. “Then I’m going to take this hairbrush...” She had one on the floor. “And give you a few pops with it to finish you off.”

“How many am I going to get?”

“Just five or six, maybe. Enough to make a good final impression.”

She ran her right hand along my face and through my hair. “You’re going to be so much better, mentally and morally, after you have been corrected.” I giggled because that sounded so silly.

Gina took no notice of my mirth. “Are you ready? Then come over and get over my knees. Keep your feet on the floor, but try to get your hands down on the other side. The point is that your behind has to be up nice and high so I have a good target.”

If Gina hadn’t been the closest friend I’d ever had, and I hadn’t also experienced her body so intimately, I don’t think I could have handled the tension within myself. Yet I also had that odd sensation of looking forward to my punishment. You are about to find out how kinky you really are.

I remembered that this was one interest that Alex Portnoy didn’t have, either as a dominant or a submissive or, perhaps, both. I knew it couldn’t have been one of Roth’s kinks or he certainly would have included it.

I didn’t quite know what to do, so Gina helped me get into position. “Get comfortable, honey. Now let’s see what you’ve got on under there.”

She lifted my skirt up and draped it over my back. She pretended to be surprised. “My, my, wearing a thong to church. Ms. Mangano, do you think God can’t see what’s under your clothes?”

I joked to myself, he must be quite a dirty old man if he looks under ladies’ skirts. Meanwhile, my friend continued to chide me. She put her fingers into the waistband and pulled my thong off. “This has to come off, all the way off. I’m going to leave it on the floor where you can see it in your shame. We’ll have to get you a pair of regulation knickers later.”

I had forgotten what that term meant, but I could ask later when necessary. Meanwhile, I was aware of the air on my bare flesh and of Gina gazing at my body. Her left hand held me around my waist.

I said, “I feel kind of vulnerable right now.”

“Good, you should feel vulnerable. You’re going to be disciplined quite soundly.”

But the first thing she did was rub her right hand around my behind and then down the backs of my thighs. That felt very nice, and I said something like “oh.”

“Ms. Mangano, you have such a pert little bottom, and I can still see the outlines of your summer tan. It’s a pity that I have to strike you so firmly, but it has to be done.” She went through a litany of criticisms of me which, while mostly true, had never bothered her before.

“You’ve behaved deplorably. You are obsessed with sex, you whack off constantly. You’re always dropping your drawers for whatever girl interests you at the moment.” Yes, and one of them is you. “That’s got to stop. When I’m finished with you, all will be forgiven and forgotten, and your purity will be restored.”

I was amazed at the nonsense she was creating, but it reminded me of what I had been taught about Confession. This must be what they all say at St. Agatha’s too. Yet I did notice that my feelings were being hurt.

“Are you ready to take the consequences of your misdeeds?”

“I guess so.”

“You have do better than guess, because I’m going to start right now.”

I couldn’t see her very well, but she raised her arm way up and smacked each of my butt cheeks rather hard. Involuntarily, I said something like ‘ah-h” and wiggled around.

Gina said, “Still don’t want tuna salad? I can see the first pink handprints on your behind.”

I was defiant. “No tuna. I can take it.”

“All right then, let’s proceed.”

There was nothing tentative about what she did next. I was sure she had done that a number of times before. In fact, I had seen her do it with Ritchie.

She was very calm and deliberate, and she didn’t rush through my spanking. Each of her strokes was a moment or two apart, and she made each one count. I couldn’t help but grunt each time.

I noticed that it hurt, but yet, I liked it and didn’t like it at the same time. My behind was quickly warming up, and I could feel a sort of vibration within my hips that was spreading through my pelvis.

She said, “Please, try to keep still and not move around so much.” I hadn’t realized that I was squirming to that degree. Then she started talking further. “You deserve every bit of this, but I’ll teach you but good.” She stopped for a moment and rubbed me again. “You’re warming up quite well and those apples of yours are starting to get quite red.”

I giggled at that, but her hand came down on me again and cut off my sense of humor. Yet I was enjoying the whacking anyway, and I suddenly noticed how wet my pussy was becoming. At times, I was blurting out statements like, “Don’t stop, Ms. Pucci. I’ve been behaving so badly.”

“Oh, you’ve been very bad, you can be sure of that. In fact, it’s time to give you six strokes with the hairbrush. Get up first and take your skirt off. I need to have better access to you.” She picked at the top of my stockings. “I have to say, these things are really cute.”

It felt great to be bottomless, but the back of the brush was intense on my behind. Gina had to push down on my back to keep me in place. “Come on, baby, take your licks. We’re almost done.”

When she was finished, I jumped up and grabbed my backside in an attempt to comfort myself. Tears were running down my face. Gina said, “You took your first spanking very well. It’s corner time, or something like it.” She pointed to the armchair on the left. “Bend over and put your hands on the cushion. I want to see what I’ve done to you.”

While I was bent over, I could imagine those “spanking stars” from the cartoons I had seen in those magazines. They were bouncing around the invisible heat rays coming out of my body. Behind me, I heard Gina say, “Spread your legs a bit. I want to see what is going on with you.”

I knew what she meant. She got up and stood next to me. “Ms. Mangano, I see I’ve failed in my efforts. You’re dripping wet between your legs.”

“Well, you obviously are not surprised.”

“Don’t feel too bad; I’m in exactly the same condition. Stand up and face me.”

When I did, she saw that my face was still wet with tears. Somewhat facetiously, she said, “Oh, my sweet Chloe. Did I hurt you?”

“Yes, you did, but in a good way.”

We had a full-length mirror down there by that point. “Look at yourself and see what I’ve done.”

I went over and saw that my behind was a glowing dark pink. There were six darker spots where the brush had connected with my flesh. “You did a very thorough job.”  A moment later, we grabbed each other, and we started kissing each other’s faces.

“Those tears of yours taste so salty.” Then she stepped back a foot and raised the hem of her dress. Her dark stockings were held up with black straps and a garter. Those were covered with lacey black panties.

“Oh, so that’s what you wear to church?”

“Hey, I never said I was a good girl either, did I?”

“I was aware of my thong during the entire Mass. I was getting horny just sitting there.”

“So was I, baby. And what we just did made it more intense. Here, feel how wet I am down there.”

We sat on the couch, hugging and fondling each other. “Thank goodness, this cushion is soft enough that I can put my sore ass on it.” Then I said, “I know exactly how I want to do it. I want us to sixty-nine each other with me on top.”

“We’re never done that before; none of us have. It seems a bit tricky to accomplish.”

“I’ve done it, right here on this floor. Never mind who it was.” I think Gina knew it had to have been Nancy, but she didn’t ask any questions. I gave further instructions.

“Lie down on the floor and stick one of these throw pillows under your behind.”

“Why do you get to be on top?”

“Because it was my idea, and that’s what I’ve done before. Don’t worry, we can switch for the second time.”

“The second one? You are certainly ambitious.”

But I felt confident in what I was doing, and we enjoyed each other as much as we wanted. During the first one, Gina put her arms around my torso and spread her legs apart. She came first, and she wrapped her legs tightly around my head during her orgasm.

We had a very lusty afternoon that day.

*****

Later, the two of us were sprawled on the sofa, half-dressed, and each of us was having glasses of wine.

She commented, “Blake also said, ‘Every harlot was a virgin once.’ ”

“We’re not harlots.”

“We’re hardly virgins either.” She thought for a moment. “The Proverbs of Hell. ‘Every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints.’ So, fellow sinner, let’s go out for a walk. However...” She wagged her finger at me. “We’ll keep our panties in our bags and feel that delightful late summer air on our bodies.”

******    

The park was busy that afternoon. We walked under the Parkway and eventually came to an open area with a staircase that led up to the street.

I was feeling very springy in my step, with both my behind and my pussy tingling in different ways. In my bouncy mood, I grabbed and held Gina’s hand, something I almost never did in public. Oh my Gina, I love you so much.

That may have been a mistake, because we passed two guys, a bit older than we were, sitting on a bench. Some disturbing intuition struck both of us, and we dropped our hands and kept walking past them.

But it was too late, and one of them said as we passed, “Hey, how old are you two, anyway?”

Gina knew enough to keep walking, but she couldn’t resist a retort. “Too young for you, but old enough to know better.”

I was thinking, come on, let’s keep going, ignore them. Then one of them said, “I saw you holding hands. You must be lesbians.”

Anger is one of the seven deadly sins, and Gina was certainly capable of it. She stopped and faced them; she couldn’t let that go unanswered. “Yeah, and what parts of each other do you two guys hold?”

To my dismay, one of them stood up. Even though we are in a busy area, I felt fear for the first time. What he said was ominous. “You little twats, I know how to take care of your kind.”

We both grasped that this event was not merely humorous banter or flirting. Gina gamely responded. “You better not. I have a couple of boyfriends around here who would kick your asses.”

“You’re just making that up.”

“No, one of them is named Ritchie and he’s nearby. The other one is Dan, and he lives right here on Bainbridge.”

That was hyperbole, and I saw a flicker of doubt on our tormentor’s face. He didn’t seem worried, but he was losing interest in the threats he was implying. Had Gina and I been in a different place, we might have had more to worry about.

Instead, he said, “Go on, get out of my sight, right now.”

We didn’t need any further incentives, and we started walking south instead of going up the steps as we originally intended. Gina kept looking back and scowling, but I looked straight ahead.  

In a few more moments, I quietly said, “They wouldn’t beat us up. I mean, they’re a lot taller than we are. They wouldn’t want to look like cowards.”

Gina sighed. “Chloe, that’s not what they would do to us if they could get away with it, and you know it.”

Even though it was a bright day in the park, I felt a shiver of fear again. “Oh, I see now.” I didn’t mention that my lack of underwear under my clothes was not fun at that point. Rather, I felt more in jeopardy that way.

Gina said, “That’s why we need the Sisterhood, to watch each other’s backs. The more of us there are, the better it is. ” She explained further. “Women need to stop feeling afraid or depending on men to protect us. We need to do that for ourselves.”

I had never heard her make that so explicit before. I remembered how we had often traveled together over the summer, and how I had felt better having my friends with me.

After I had given it a moment of thought, I said, “There is a lot to learn at sixteen, isn’t there?”

“Kid, don’t worry; you’re doing great.”

****

St. Agatha’s is a fictional school, but there is an all-girls Catholic high school in that general area. All of the locations in Bronx Park mentioned here are based on real places.