by Layla Wolfe
“I understand I’ve been bad. Have I sinned?”
“Oh boy, have you sinned,” I said whole-heartedly, tapping his wrist with the handcuff. Obediently, he held his wrists out like a man about to be arrested. Snapping on the cuffs, I led him to the headboard and tossed him butt-first onto the mattress, where he bounced. “You’ve been a bad, naughty boy, hanging out with those hooligans.”
He chuckled. “Hooligans.”
“I know what those boys are up to. Reading girlie magazines, looking at girl’s breasts, fucking.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Fucking? We wished.”
He wasn’t taking me seriously enough, so I took something from my shorts pocket and kneeled between his outspread thighs. I grabbed his erection fully in my palm, squeezing it salaciously. “I know what you boys have been doing with these big cocks.”
Rising to the task, Fremont gyrated his hips, pressing his penis into my palm. “I’m the only one with the big cock around there.”
How arrogant of him! Even knowing he was, partially, playing a game, that was a damned egotistical thing to say. Even if it was true.
My anger wasn’t phony now as I whipped his belt buckle apart. The buttons of his 501s popped apart easily, being under such stress as they were. “You think you’re just so smart,” I said through clenched teeth. I truly did not like being defied. I yanked his jeans down over his knees and pulled off his boots. “You think you’re the wittiest boy around. I’ll have you crying for mercy.”
Fremont wasn’t fazed. Part of me was stimulated that he looked forward to being “punished.” Part of me was angered that it didn’t give him the slightest pause for thought. I whipped one pant leg over his foot, leaving him nearly naked and helpless. Now that was a sight that gratified me. “You boys and your circle jerks. You do that all the time? Mutual masturbation?”
“Only when we’re horny,” he panted. Yes, he was so aroused his penis was twitching. And then he grinned, lopsided. “Which is all the time.”
“That’s it,” I growled, finally displaying the leather cock ring I’d specially been carrying around in my shorts pocket. “You see this? This is for bad boys who don’t cooperate with me.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered. I couldn’t tell if he was excited or afraid. I hoped a bit of both.
That the cock ring had metal spikes was just for show. I lifted his heavy, thick penis and wrapped the leather tightly, perhaps half a snap tighter than I should have. I wanted to see that cock bulging, purple, straining, dying for release. When my Dom side came out like this, I was a bit of a tyrant, and now I slapped that cock.
“There,” I said decisively. “How does that feel now?”
Fremont gasped when I slapped him again. “Good,” he choked. Still, he kept his legs splayed, a sign of acceptance.
I knew what would make more impact. I grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer and drizzled it over the hard penis. When I swiped it a few times in my fist, he exhaled and lolled his head back on a rubbery neck, rolling it against the headboard.
But I was just lubing up the penis. Grabbing the cuffs by the chain between them, I forced his wrists to the back of his neck. Now he looked properly submissive, and when I slapped his hard-on, it bounced painfully like a metronome, constricted by the cock ring at the base.
“How is that? Can you admit it hurts or are you going to pretend you’re too manly for pain?”
“Feels good,” he ground out between slaps.
When I swiped his ballsac for a few seconds, he relaxed and sighed like a contented dog. But when I grasped the sack in the O I made between thumb and forefinger and slapped, he winced.
“Ow! Oh, God,” he allowed.
“That’s better.” I pinched the full sack, flicked my fingernails against the sensitive skin, slapped each ball in turn. “Now will you admit you masturbated your friends? You can tell me. Confession is good for the soul.”
“I did!” Fremont gasped, and I wondered if the story would be true or not. “We talked about girls and their boobs, and we all got hard, Finally, one guy whipped it out and started jacking it.”
I gripped his penis at the base, my mouth actually watering to sink it down my throat. How I wished we would’ve done that as teenagers. We were way too cool, aloof, standoffish. Too macho. We heard that Jewish kids circle jerked all the time, which made me wonder if Fremont’s story was true. Well, a storyline for our drama or not, it was damned juicy.
“Who grabbed his dick first?”
“Another kid did. I was dying to, but I thought I was straight and full of machismo. So, I watched them. The kid being jacked was going out of his mind, but everyone encouraged him to stroke the kid, so he did. It was funny”—he gasped again, when I struck his penis too hard, unintentionally this time—“because both kids were on the verge of coming right away, but they had to concentrate on satisfying the other. I could tell it was difficult to get their minds off their own dicks.”
I couldn’t fucking take it. I must’ve been weaker than those kids, because abruptly I got to my knees and grasped Fremont by the shoulders. Yanking his torso off the headboard, I dragged him to his knees too and flipped him around, so his hot, bare ass was nestled against my erection. I wrapped an arm around his chest to plaster his skin to me.
Chewing on his earlobe, I whispered, “God, I love you.” I snaked a hand down between us to squeeze his luscious ass.
Had things ever been this good for me? Never, no. My assignment as rector of the Colorado River Indian Reservation was the ultimate in fulfillment. I drifted to sleep at night knowing I’d done good. And I was in love with the man whose ass I was about to spank.
Fremont squirmed against me. “I love you too, you fucking priest.”
FREMONT
It was too good to be fucking true. My fantasy had come to flesh. Noel, clad in his black robes, was slapping the hell out of my dick. I was helplessly cuffed, submissive, unable to do a damn thing about it, even if I’d wanted to.
What man wouldn’t want to be in my position?
Though covered by at least two layers of fabric, I could feel the ridge of his hard-on pressing into my butt crack. I clenched and unclenched reflexively, craving to be filled by that holy penis. With my cuffed wrists at the back of my neck, all I could do was wriggle my ass against him, knowing that would inflame him even more.
And honestly, the stricture of the cock ring was pure ecstasy. At first, it hurt. I almost cried out and asked him to loosen it.
Then I realized that wasn’t part of our game. My part was to take it all, no matter what Noel dished out, even if I grimaced and cringed. My role was to take the pain, to take it to the point where it turned into ecstasy.
And that’s what happened with the cock ring.
The more Noel slapped my cock, the more he caused it to bounce up and down, the more purple it turned, the veins standing out in sharp relief, the more pleasure I derived. It sounds strange, but I relaxed into it, and soon I felt a joyous, semi-orgasmic thrill spread though my groin. It hurt again when he slapped my balls. He didn’t spare the rod, that was for sure. But the more he pinched, smacked, and tortured my cock and balls, the less sure I was I wasn’t going to squirt in his fucking face.
All I could do was gyrate my hips to show my pleasure. Once in a while he’d grasp ahold of my cock and squeeze, and jizz flooded up the underside. I felt more than saw several crystalline drops spurt from my slit, and I wondered how close he was to bending over and taking me in his mouth.
But no. That wasn’t part of this torture game.
He wasn’t going to let me have my own satisfaction until he’d had his, and when he jerked me to my knees and roughly turned me around, so our torsos were spooned together, my prick bobbed and quivered to imagine him fucking me like this. Helpless, submissive. A defenseless vessel for his superior masculinity.
Did he satisfy my cock, bobbing and straining just inches from his hand? Of course not. That was part of his twisted plan.
Now he gripped the chain between the cuffs and raised my hands over my head. He slid the chain over a bedpost so I was really and truly shackled. I arched my back to offer my ass to him, but all he did was feel it with his palm as though he were a sculptor deciding which shape he preferred. Then,
SMACK.
SMACK.
SMACK.
And these were not tiny, tentative little slaps either. These were full-on smacks such as you’d give to an adult you wished to punish severely.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” I uttered with each spank.
It struck me, this was the exact same position Kelly had discovered me in with my fake cop. Cockringed, handcuffed, facedown, on the mattress, ass in the air, being spanked.
What goes around comes around.
Except Noel wasn’t pretending.
He truly was an ordained priest, and it was no accident I’d asked him to wear his cassock to the deck building today instead of his cleric shirt.
I nudged him in the right direction. “I’ve confessed my sins with the other boys! Is this my penance?” I spread my knees a bit farther apart in the hopes he’d slap my balls as well.
“Do you confess to Almighty God, to his Church, and to me, that you have sinned by your own fault in thought, word, and deed, especially in mutually masturbating those boys?”
I remembered the liturgy. “For these and all other sins which I cannot now remember, I am truly sorry.”
Noel stepped up his spanking, though. Apparently, my penance wasn’t good enough. “But you’ve not confessed how you masturbated another boy. You just said you watched.”
I grinned, knowing I’d have to confess the juiciest part of the story. “But I did nothing.”
SMACK. “I know you did. You’re a nasty, dirty little boy.”
“I did nothing! I swear I just watched!”
SMACK. The hot redness spread out from my glutes, tightening my balls, going up my abdomen. My cock was so primed, droplets of jizz were dripping from it. I’d never seen it so purple. “Confess, boy! Or your penance will be much worse!”
“There is nothing to—Ow!”
He finally did what I longed for. He smacked my balls. The pain/pleasure was so intense I nearly blacked out. The wall in front of me went dark for a split second as all my senses were drawn into my scrotum. Really, he didn’t slap me that hard. I was just in a state of heightened awareness, almost floating out of my body, yet feeling it to the nth power at the same time.
“Okay, okay! I’ll tell you about pulling that other boy’s dick!” Noel’s hand slowed down, fondling my sac now, urging more jizz to spurt up the length of my cock.
His mouth was close to my ear, his hard-on obvious under his cassock. “Okay then. Did you grab his dick first?”
I honestly couldn’t remember. I wanted the story to be as truthful as possible, because that always made for a better scene. Panting heatedly now, I related, “After the first couple of boys ejaculated, we were all kind of shame-faced. But I took mine out, because I wanted the others to admire it. I knew it was the biggest of them all.” That part, arrogant as it sounds, was true. I never missed an opportunity as a kid to shower after gym class.
As I hoped, Noel’s massaging hand went straight to my dick. Now that I was confessing, he was kind, encouraging. He masturbated me much as that other boy had. I could feel him with his other hand fumbling under his cassock for the fly of his shorts. “I’ll bet you did, you twisted boy. This dick is something to be admired. Mouthwatering. Long. Thick. And how did the boys react?”
“One of them whipped his out too. It was like he wanted to have a contest. Back then it was macho if you came fast, right? We both started jacking our own dicks. But the other boys said that wasn’t fair. We had to do it like the first two boys had, so we were sort of embarrassed as we reached for each other’s tools.”
“But you wanted it, right?”
“Oh, of course I did. I didn’t have the slightest inkling back then I was gay. I was that far removed from my own personhood. And for these and all other sins which I can’t now remember, I am truly sorry!”
Noel remembered to be stern. He had flung his cassock over his shoulder and taken his shorts down to his knees, and his delectable, juicy dong slapped up against my ass. He murmured, “By His authority committed to me, I absolve you from all your sins. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen,” I added, as he gripped and slapped my poor cock again.
“Confess,” he growled.
“I beat his meat. I used the precum at the slit to grease up his rod. He was so overwhelmed he barely remembered to beat mine. He just gripped my meat while I whaled away on him. I even talked dirty, the way straight boys would. ‘Think of Sue Blackwell’s tits,’ stuff like that. ‘You’ll come in thirty seconds thinking of Marcy Dupree’s rack.’ The other boys encouraged us. ‘Come on, Jason, let’s see you splatter that fag.’ We pretended to think the others were fags. All the boys except ourselves were fags, of course.”
“Did you like handling his rod?” Noel had three fingers slick with lube pressed to my asshole. He tickled the puckered hole, rubbed his fingertips erotically in circles, but he didn’t penetrate me, no matter how heavily I arched my back and pressed my ass against his bare erection.
“Of course. But I couldn’t let on. I just had to make out like I was trying to win the race. It even occurred to me to drop to my knees and suck it into my mouth. Boy, that would shock everyone. They’d probably go for it, too, because everyone was so horny. But I didn’t. I’d be branded a fag forever if I did that, even if it was only to win a race.”
“Ah,” Noel groaned, sliding first one and then two fingers up my channel, up to his knuckles. He tickled the sleek inner walls, agonizingly inches from my most sensitive gland. “You are a terrible, naughty boy who loves being handled. Admit it. May God in his love enlighten your heart, that you may remember in truth all your sins. Admit it.”
“Oh, I know I’m sinful,” I said, almost proudly. How I wished I could reach behind myself and handle his meat! I loved nothing more than gulping down his nice, hot load, but perhaps I would enjoy it more if he fucked me while I was handcuffed. “I’ve been naughty, naughty, taking pleasure in jerking off that other boy. I even talked to him, encouraging him. “Cumon Jason, cumon Jason, you know you want to splatter me with your spunk. Show all these other boys what a big load you’ve got, Jason.’”
“Ah.” Swiftly, Noel replaced his fingers with his cock. We didn’t fuck too often, so I was still tight as a drum, and I knew he liked that. One inch, two inches, three. He fucked me in tiny little increments, his hips shuddering. “My sweet boy.”
It was my chance to turn the tables, now that he was at my mercy. “You like that, don’t you, Father? You like screwing other men up the ass.”
“Ahhh . . . What’s not to like, boy?” He slapped my chafed, red ass. “A meaty ass beckoning me, a tight bum, a long thick penis just dying to be abused . . . “To punctuate this, he slapped my poor tortured cock.
“Oh Lord, your penis is too big for me.” I praised him, knowing he liked that. “I can’t take it all, Father.”
“Shut up and let me fuck you, brat. Finish telling me about Jason.”
I took to rubbing my poor dick against the headboard. Good thing it was a new bed and not splintery. Noel joined in by grasping my dick at the base and helping me rub the jizz off against the polished wood. He massaged my testicles like they were a cat’s head. “Well, Jason lost it very fast. He forgot to do anything other than cling to my big cock as I whacked him off.”
“How far did he ejaculate?” Noel sounded in a trance now, his cockhead coming dangerously close to my p-spot. He fucked me with big, swinging motions of his hips, and I craned my head over my shoulder to watch. His eyes were closed, his mouth slack, his Adam’s apple working above his white dog collar. That lucky sonofabitch. He had everything he wanted. Wait, so did I.
“Oh, he
squirted on my face, on my throat. Everyone roared with approval, and I kept jacking. Now he forgot my dick altogether. I took my own dick into my spare hand and jacked. I came in seconds, Father. Seconds. I got my revenge because I shot him straight in the eye. You know how much that hurts.”
But instead of laughing along with me, Noel just groaned, low and animal-like in the pit of his stomach. He made short humping strokes to avoid my prostate, to draw out the penis torture. I responded by fucking him back. On his every upstroke, I’d arch my back and shove my butt against him.
“Oh—oh—oh—oh—”
It was getting to him, this dance. And on a few chance lunges, his cockhead massaged my p-spot. There. Just as in the story I told, I went off like a rocket. His hand wasn’t even on my cock when I started spurting. He fucked my hole with abandon now, sliding past my gland with every thrust.
Maybe it was my muscles clenching his cock, but he soon grasped my dick again. Now he beat my meat swiftly, as though he, too, were running a race. His cockhead exploded past my gland as he pounded his load deep inside me. As for myself, I baptized my headboard with the biggest splash of jizz I’d ever known.
“My boy, my boy,” Noel kept murmuring, one arm wrapped around me tightly. He jerked and spasmed inside me for a long time, thumbing my corona, milking every last drop of juice from me.
We kneeled, plastered together, panting, for a long time. I didn’t want Noel to pull out. I consciously clenched at his dick with my glutes, making him gasp every time. Our sweat pasted us together, and I rolled my head onto my shoulder to look at him. He kissed me, and I grappled with his cassock in my fist. So fucking holy. Sin is beneficial, but all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well . . .
“I was just writing next Sunday’s sermon,” Noel murmured against my mouth. “The amount of guilt we hold is tied to the premeditated manner we cause others pain. This is your key to the definition of sin, and how to move past it.”
“That’s good,” I sighed. “I often cause hurt without knowing I am or meaning to. People come up to me offended by something offhand I did.”
