“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned…” As Simon’s confession begins, it soon becomes obvious that penance will require more
than a few hail, Mary!
Simon squirmed restlessly in the back of the church. With his hymn book open on his lap, his mind was elsewhere. He was finding it impossible to concentrate on the words, much less their meaning. His fellow parishioners raised their voices in praise of the Savior while Simon adjusted the tightness in his crotch. He felt the hardness in his trousers advertising his guilt.
Outside the gothic-style church, the rain beat relentlessly against the stone masonry, sounding like pebbles tossed randomly against the stained glass windows. In the distance, he could hear the thunder rolling in, making its way toward the church; the preceding flashes of light bathed the stained glass saints in an eerie glow. Father Bryan’s eyes focused on Simon, aware of his guilt and his secret passions. Penance for Simon was long overdue.
Father Bryan smiled benignly at his attentive flock. He was well aware of the dashing figure he presented at the altar. Behind him, a seven-foot crucifix reinforced his power, giving him the validity he so desperately needed. He raised his fist above his head to drive home the hardened edge of his sermon. No one sensed his distraction. His eyes swept over the pious faces falling on Simon, huddled alone in the back pew. He knew the difficulty of Simon’s struggle to hide his impatience with what seemed like an unusually long sermon. The poor lad must have sinned grievously to be this impatient this soon.
Father Bryan could feel the familiar stirrings whenever he thought of Simon. He decided to make an early end to his sermon. The priest said his goodbyes to his parishioners, shaking hands and smiling as he ushered them hurriedly through the massive oak doors and out into waiting cars and the rain.
Simon, apprehensive and quiet, walked down the aisle, taking his place in the first pew. There he knelt quietly and waited for the sound of the closing of the large oak doors. That would be the signal that they were alone at last.
Father Bryan locked the doors, turned, and walked briskly down the aisle. He did not acknowledge Simon as he passed the kneeling parishioner. The young man would receive all of his attention when the time was right. Straight and tall, he stood. With his legs astride, he raised his arms above his head and muttered a silent prayer. The thunder and lightning added weight to his presence at the altar.
Simon felt his heart swell and his muscles tighten at the veneration he felt for the holy man. He reveled in the slight twinges of fear that gnawed at his stomach.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned grievously, and I must serve penance.” Softly as Simon spoke, his words seemed to echo off the walls of the empty church.
The Father instructed him to rise from his kneeling position. Simon got to his feet, quickly and quietly and removed his clothing. After folding his clothes carefully and placing them on the bench, he immediately took a kneeling position in the aisle facing the altar. This was not a new ritual to them. Simon knew what was required of him even before the priest spoke to him.
Father Bryan busied himself with a formally concealed walnut chest that he produced from behind the altar; only he had the key. Only he and Simon were familiar with its contents. After carefully folding the altar cloth that had covered the chest, he slipped his key into the lock.
Simon crawled to the altar steps and bowed his head low. His closely cropped afro was cut into a fade, displaying the shaved words ‘In God’ on the back of his head. As he knelt, beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead, further accenting his youthful, innocent beauty. Father Bryan’s long tapered fingers ran over Simon’s head, tracing the lean muscles down Simon’s back. Leaning forward, he let his nails scrape over the crevice of Simon’s butt cheeks.
“And what have we done to bring down God’s wrath and pity this week, young Simon?” The priest inquired while fondling the leather riding crop from his chest of toys.
“There was a young man on the train. I talked to him and convinced him to come home with me,” Simon murmured, his cock already responding to the illicit memory.
“Do continue…” Father Bryan’s foot pushed against the back of Simon’s head, forcing his face to the floor and his quivering ass to raise high. Father Bryan could see the boy’s dark asshole, and the mere sight made his dick hard.
“He was beautiful, Father. His body was that of a swimmer; his cock was thick and uncut. He wanted to fuck me, sir.”
Simon winced as the first of several blows struck his bare back. Like machine-gun fire, the priest rained down blow after blow over Simon’s upturned buttocks. Father Bryan brought down his crop repeatedly against Simon’s body, trembling with pleasure as his cock rubbed against his trousers beneath his priestly robes.
“And did he? Did he fuck you, boy? If you don’t tell me, it will be harder for you later. .. “
Father Bryan wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead. Simon’s cock glistened shamelessly with precum as he pressed his palms hard against the aisle, his lips puckered against the hard wooden floor.
“I could not refuse him, Father; I opened my ass to him willingly, sir. He spat into his hand and rubbed his spit across my asshole. His tongue licked my butthole inside and out, and then … “
Simon was desperate to play with his cock, but knew that it was against the rules, so he struggled to control his unbearable lust.
The idea that someone other than himself had violated that perfect asshole enraged the priest.
“You are a wicked boy, Simon. A special penance is called for.”
The Priest appeared to be deep in thought as he packed away his riding crop. He momentarily dipped his finger into the thin trail of blood across Simon’s back. The boy could bleed for a short while. He walked to the back of the altar and returned carrying a folding chair to the foot of the crucifix. Digging once more into the filled chest, he extracted a lengthy coil of rope that he looped around the middle of the heavy crucifix dominating the altar.
“Continue with your filthy story of lust and sodomy, you wicked boy.”
Excitement caught in his throat, forcing his words to come out as a raspy whisper. Pulling Simon to his feet, he walked him over to stand before the crucifix. He helped him up the chair and stretched Simon’s arms against the length of the wooden beams.
“He rimmed me so magnificently, sir. His tongue moved in and out of my ass so smoothly and quickly. It felt as though he were fucking me with his tongue. I admit that I lusted hungrily for his cock… “
Simon grimaced slightly while his arms were bound securely to the cross. Father Bryan bound Simon’s feet as well until he was certain that Simon no longer needed the support of the flimsy wooden chair. As Simon hung suspended on the cross, Father Bryan could feel the rush of blood in his cock, his balls threatening to explode without any physical help from him.
Simon’s cock throbbed with hunger and palpitated with passion. His body dripped with sweat, giving him a glow that seemed to separate him from all mortal men. His body shimmered against the candlelight. Comfortable with the blasphemous reproduction of the crucifixion, Simon continued his story.
“He pulled my… ass cheeks apart and pushed his cock inside me, sir. He felt so big at first that I didn’t think that I could take it. But he pushed it all inside me. All the time, his hand held my cock and jerked it back and forth. I almost came right there on the spot.”
Despite the erotic and pleasing memory, tears streamed down Simon’s face, and his body shook with his tearful sobs. He had sinned dreadfully.
Simon thought of the penance he would have to serve, and his cock stiffened almost painfully in anticipation. The priest could be dangerously creative.
Father Bryan took hold of Simon’s cock and rubbed it gently between his two hands, kneading and squeezing its masthead until his hands were moist with precum and sweat. Gradually, his hands moved to caress Simon’s testicles. Father Bryan searched for a candle from the altar. Holding the flame near Simon’s balls, he passed the candle back and forth, softening the protective skin of the ball sac.
The heat caused Simon’s testicles to roll lazily in their sac. Taking Simon’s balls in his hands, he felt the smoothness of their rotation. Eventually, he dripped some of the wax onto Simon’s cockhead, watching it roll and harden down the stiffened shaft.
The roll of thunder burst over the church, effectively drowning out Simon’s plaintive moans. Louder and louder, he cried out, twisting against the nylon rope that cut sharply into his wrists. His heart beat rapidly as his lust and discomfort grew. He struggled to continue his tale of woe.
“He really started fucking my ass. I mean, he was like an animal jamming his oversized prick into me. I was getting sore and asked him to stop, but he only spread my cheeks further apart and fucked me even deeper and harder. I decided I should help him to cum so he would stop.
“I moved my ass back and forth, my muscles tightening around his cock, encouraging him to blast his load as deep as he could into me!”
The whole situation made Simon short of breath, and he badly wanted to relieve the tension in his cock, especially his tortured balls. Father Bryan climbed onto the chair, holding the blazing candle teasingly close to Simon. He smiled wantonly as he tilted the candle against Simon’s cock and stomach.
The candle sizzled brightly each time it tilted forward. Splashes of white wax dotted Simon’s belly. The wax made abstract patterns across his chest, hardening against his nipples.
Father Bryan rubbed his cock through his robes. The satin felt great against his throbbing cock once released from inside his pants.
“It felt so good to have that stiff prick in my ass were it not for the soreness. But when he stopped, he swung me around and forced me to take his cock in my mouth.”
Simon’s attention was diverted as Father Bryan placed an 8″ by 12″ plywood board under his balls. His cock, which had momentarily lost its hardness, laid over his heated scrotum.
Father Bryan bounced Simon’s balls in his hands, moving the candle back and forth across the surface until he was sure that they softened enough for his purpose. The lightning and thunder raged on outside.
“He was as brutal with my mouth as he had been with my ass. He held my head and guided his cock in and out of my mouth. He held my head tightly so I couldn’t escape. He pressed his dirty cock against the back of my throat and only released me when I started to gag and vomit!”
Simon could barely see clearly because of the sweat that burned at the corners of his eyes. But he could make out the shadowy outline of the leather case. Father Bryan opened it and removed a small tack hammer and ten tiny gold nails.
Inexplicably, his cock rose with sudden inspiration and a previously unknown depth of hardness.
Anticipation set Simon’s heart to pounding erratically. The throbbing in his temples banged like drums in his ears. Had his little lapse been deserving of such penance? He reproached himself for questioning the judgment of his priest. This was another transgression that he would have to do penance for.
“He let me beat my dick until I was close to coming … and then he blasted his full load against the back of my throat… I was choking, but he only held me tighter. ..I shot a full load onto the floor, Father. He knelt beside me, forcing my head to the floor, and then he made me lick up my entire jizz load!”
Father Bryan interrupted Simon’s lewd tale when he gathered a pinch of his scrotum. Dabbing a bit of alcohol on a patch, he took one of the small tacks, carefully positioned it, and drove it quickly through Simon’s skin.
Simon’s head banged back against the wooden beam in a sudden wave of agony bordering on exquisite pain. He wallowed in the full sensation of agony sweeping rapidly through his body.
The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Yet after the initial shock, the pain settled into a dull throb. He never realized he could feel such torment and ecstasy all at once.
When he opened his eyes, he could just make out the shadowy form of Father Bryan. The priest patted Simon’s forehead with a cool, damp cloth that felt like a fresh spring against Simon’s face. The cool affections of Father Bryan replaced the broiling heat and stinging sweat.
The blood rushed through Simon’s pampered cock. Ribbons of translucent semen dripped lazily in a stream from his uncut cock. With the hammering of each nail through his scrotum, he experienced a different level of pain, followed by a numbing, yet indescribable, ecstasy.
Eventually, his cock stopped losing strength and grew more defiant with each pinch of his ball sac being nailed to the wood. By the time Father Bryan administered the tenth nail, the sexual tension had become too much for Simon. Afraid he would rip out the nails in his eagerness to please, he arched his back against the cross. The feeling grew from deep within his gut.
Father Bryan stepped back, aware of the intensity building within Simon. It had never been so evident on his face before as now.
The howl started from his stomach, climbing over his rapidly beating heart, and worked its way past his throat. When he found his voice, the scream came from every vein in his body with a delicious passion. His cock achieved a strength that displayed itself in expanded girth. His ball swelled with rapture to fuel the coming explosion. His juices flowed from him, first in a stream and then as luscious gobs of off-white cream. His life fluids jettisoned against the priestly robes of Father Bryan, like softly thrown mud pies.
The spectacle was too much for Father Bryan. Leaning against the podium, he gave himself over to an utter feeling of deliverance. He frantically lifted his robes and grasped his hard cock between callused fingers. His moans were not enough to drown out the continued shouts of Simon’s joy.
Several minutes passed before the church swallowed up the ravishing sounds of uncontrolled and forbidden delivery. Outside, the storm raged on, the rain relentless in its pursuit of dominance over the night.
Simon finally relaxed, letting his body go limp against the restraints, letting contentment take over him. His arms ached, and his cock throbbed in the aftermath. The pain in his balls was nothing but a faint throbbing memory accompanying the exhaustion he felt.
Bryan knelt before Simon; his hands rubbed up and down the sweltering thighs of the hanging symbol of his degradation. He dropped casually to the ground. Touching his lips to Simon’s feet, he brushed his lips over the boy’s instep before kissing Simon’s feet, so beautiful they were, so soft, so small.
“Forgive me, for I have sinned,” screamed the priest!
Simon listened to the faltering words of the priest. The thunder rolled ominously closer. The lightning lit up the church’s interior, giving the stained glass saints the appearance of artificial movement. The lightning flashed several more times before setting its light on Father Bryan’s face. The inner light shone over him as his body tensed against his endless lust.
Simon looked over the prone figure of his priest, blessing him in his heart. Penance, like confession, had proved to be good for the soul and so very satisfying for the spirit.
Author: Cain Berlinger
Photo Credit: DRUMMER Archives