by C. M. Knox
The Complete
Unrepentant
C.M. Knox
CONTENTS
Part I – Good Boy
Part II – Sinner
Part III – Born Again
copyright 2012 C.M. Knox. all rights reserved
smashwords edition
Good Boy
Hauled in front of the Headmaster, again.
Justin sat on the benches in the familiar hallway, the hard wood as ageless and permanent as the Academy even as Justin himself had grown and outgrown the hallowed institution. There was a time, in the distant past, when a trip here would have filled him with fear and awe, when the big cherrywood door of the Headmaster's office was an imposing threat of punishment.
Not anymore. The pilgrimage to Father Burke's office had become routine, climbing up from monthly to weekly. Ever since his 18th birthday party, when he'd hidden caches of silly string and cherry bombs all over the Academy grounds and goaded the younger students into all-out vandal warfare, he seemed to spend more time on these hard wooden benches than in the equally-uncomfortable half-desks that St. Kilda's Academy for College Preparations seemed to consider appropriate furniture for growing minds.
Father Burke didn't bother with pomp. When he decided Justin had been stewing in the hallway long enough, the priest just opened the door, shook his head, and waved the youth into the office.
Burke wasn't a large man, and Justin could still remember when he'd first realized he was looking down at the priest, that day he'd been called into this same office and he'd decided he was done with lies.
The priest fit well into this majestic office, into its dusty corners and dark shelves, framed oil paintings of saints looking uncaringly down from their perches between narrow windows. He fit into the Academy in a way Justin didn't, in a way maybe Justin never had.
“Again, Justin?” Burke sighed, combing his fingers through dark hair just barely tinged with grey, a sign of age that Justin secretly considered a private triumph. Ever since he'd become old enough to buy cigarettes and porn, those flecks of silver in the priest's hair seemed to spread on a weekly basis.
“I was horny,” Justin tossed out, defiant. “Would you rather I jerk it in the dorms?”
“No, I... Justin, the library? Really?”
“Just give me detention or whatever,” the youth mumbled, feeling a sudden slight hint of shame. He'd been in the Father's favorite nook, maybe even hoping the priest would catch him, hoping he could give the older man a shock. Instead it had been one of the nuns, sweet old Sister Charlotte who had once given him a plate of fig cookies as a reward for helping her sweep out the nave.
She'd taken one look at him, spread out shirtless in the big armchair with his legs splayed and pants around his ankles, working his cock eagerly with a Men's Health spread out on the armrest, his taut young body catching the light to show off the curves and bulges of lean muscles he'd spent hours in the gym building into just the right shape. She'd rolled her eyes and dragged him straight down to the Father.
Father Burke shook his head sadly. “I think we're past that now,” he said. “Detention doesn't seem to affect you. What happened to you, Justin? You used to be such a good boy.”
Justin glared up at him. “I'm a man,” he said, defiantly. “Have been for months now. Or did you already forget about my birthday party?”
A flash of annoyance flickered on Burke's face before the priest could stamp it out, and Justin felt a gleeful spike of vindication. The priest was hard to rile.
Burke stood, drawing in all the power of dignity his office could command. “I think it's time we end this charade, you little shit.” He pulled an envelope out of the neat stack of papers on the corner of his desk, opened it slowly. He passed the contents over. “You're a bully and a troublemaker, and I'm through playing games with you.”
Justin's uncertain smile faded instantly. It was the will, the piece of paper that shaped his entire life.
“I hereby bequeath my entire fortune to my beloved nephew Justin,” Burke quoted. “On the day of his graduation from St. Kilda's Academy.” He grinned at Justin with a sadistic pleasure the youth had never seen on the Headmaster's face before. “What do you suppose happens to all that money if you don't graduate at all?”
“Fuck you,” Justin spat. “That's my money, and you know it.”
“Your Aunt Josephine was most clear that you were to obtain a Catholic education. How are we to educate you if you continue to run roughshod over all rules of common sense and decency?”
Fear bloomed behind Justin's eyes as he realized just how much the priest was enjoying this. He'd driven the older man almost to the breaking point, and now Burke had exactly the right tool for his revenge. “That's all my money,” he pointed out, uncertainly. “That's everything. If you take it...”
“I'm not taking anything from you,” Burke smiled. “If we lose you as a student, the funds simply vanish into the legal system. Believe me, Justin, I'd much rather see you graduate, and we have nothing to gain from losing you as a student. But we simply can't let this kind of behavior go unpunished. So I'll give you a choice. Either I expel you, right now... or we do this the old-fashioned way.”
Justin eyed the priest warily, sensing the trap that had closed around him. “You wouldn't dare,” he said, disbelieving.
“Stand up,” Father Burke commanded. “Bend over my desk.” He was already opening the big cabinet in the corner, pulling out a tool Justin had never once seen in action. Nobody had, not since Father Burke had replaced cranky Sister Meriope back when Justin was still an invisible fifth grader, seven years earlier.
Justin hesitated. The priest weighed the paddle in his hand, fixing him with an expression of regret that was totally incongruous with the dancing glee behind Burke's eyes. “It's this or expulsion,” he said gravely. “Your choice, Justin.”
The lanky youth stood stiffly, inched closer to the big desk.
“Unfasten your pants and lower them to your knees, if you would,” Father Burke instructed.
Justin glared hate at the priest, but he had to obey. He ripped the buttons on his fly open with defiant sharp moves, refusing to turn away, and yanked pants and briefs down in one violent motion that sent his meaty cock swinging pendulously between lean thighs. “You gonna hit me, Father?” he dared.
“Yes, Justin, I'm going to hit you,” Father Burke said. The priest was resolutely maintaining eye contact, but Justin felt a flash of vindication at the priest's obvious urge to glance down at him, to take a good long look at the man's body his former student had grown. “Bend over the desk.”
Justin's forearms hit the desk, his tall body bending at a right angle over it. His pert little ass raised up into the air, totally exposed, a perfect curve of pale flesh with the faintest scattering of soft dark hair over it, clustering in thicker to mark the place where his body turned in on itself and hiding the tight hollow of his most private place under the short curls.
Burke steeled himself. It had been a long time since he'd been this close to temptation, and the sight of this thorn-in-his-side little troublemaker bent over his desk, submissive for now but defiantly staring back at him... He had to fight down the urge to stroke that softness, to run his fingers over the lines of Justin's body and bury himself in that waiting deepness.
“Are you gonna hit me or lick me, you old queer?” Justin sneered.
“Watch your mouth,” Father Burke warned mildly, and brought the paddle down hard on Justin's ass. The boy yelped and flinched into the desk involuntarily, glancing back at him with that delicious hint of fear at the pain.
He rolled the paddle in his h
and meditatively, studying the pink bruise raising on the pale skin of Justin's ass, then brought it down again, harder this time. The boy stiffened, his hands shooting across the desk to clutch the edge of the wood with white-knuckled grips.
“You've been bad, Justin,” he said, and slapped him a third time. The lanky youth grunted and pressed himself into the table, trying to avoid a blow he couldn't possibly escape. “Very bad. The vandalism, the pornography, masturbating all over the school, leaving naked photos of yourself on the staff computer – yes, I know that was you, even if you did crop out your head. So hungry for attention.”
The paddle struck home again, far harder, a fat welt rising on Justin's skin while the youth struggled to stay still and quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He had been pulling the blows, unsure how to use the instrument, but he lashed out harder now, twisting his arm into it and battering hard on the waiting flesh.
“Well, you've got it now, you little shit, you horny little prick. Is this what you wanted?”
Justin was crying involuntarily, tears of pain leaking down his face and dripping onto the table, but the last thing he wanted was for Father Burke to stop. He could feel his cock grinding uncomfortably against the desk, harder than he'd ever felt it before, drops of precum shaking out of it each time the priest landed another punishing blow against his ass. He fought to maintain control, thinking unsexy thoughts, trying desperately to get the swelling subside, but it was a losing battle.
“I hate you!” he gritted out, buying time. “You pathetic old man!”
Father Burke laid into him, a blow so strong it numbed his entire ass for a second before the blood rushed, painful heat spreading all down the curve. The desk jumped back with the force of it, pulling Justin forward and making him step forward to move with it, catching himself awkwardly.
His legs spread with the motion and Burke paused, transfixed by the sight of Justin's tight hole flexing, flanked on either side by the reddening shapes of bruises from his paddle. He'd never looked at Justin this way before – he'd never seen the student as an adult, as a man. But Justin had grown, and the lithe body splayed out before him now was unmistakably full-grown and masculine.
The youth whimpered, his cocky attitude gone. He was making no move to cover himself, just spread-eagled out against Father Burke's desk with his pants around his ankles and his bruised ass sticking up in the air.
The priest couldn't help himself. “Your shirt's getting in the way,” he said, his voice catching ever so slightly. “Remove it.”
Justin hesitated, but he didn't talk back, and Burke gave a predatory grin at the youth's back when he reluctantly began to unbutton the uniform. He was taking his time, and Father Burke quickly lost patience, reaching down around the sides of the sprawled youth's torso and ripping the shirt open, sending buttons flying across his desk.
“Now,” he warned, and Justin scrambled to obey, flinging the shirt off quickly enough that his bare ass grazed along the front of Burke's trousers as he shifted.
Justin's back was all smooth lines, muscles tensing and relaxing in flinching motions as he moved against the desk and resumed his grip on the edge.
“Does that hurt?” Father Burke murmured, tracing the outline of the bruises on Justin's ass. The boy winced at the contact, but didn't dare pull away.
“Yes,” he whispered, as the priest cupped a meaty buttock in his hand, brushing his thumb across the welt.
“Yes, Father Burke,” Burke corrected.
“Yes, Father Burke,” Justin echoed, though there was a trill of mockery in his voice.
“Do you – have anything else to confess?” Burke asked, caressing Justin's abused ass, unable to stop himself from touching.
When he didn't immediately say no, Burke knew he had him. “Well...” Justin said.
“Tell me,” the priest commanded.
The priest had both hands on Justin now, squeezing the cheeks of his ass and pushing them together, pulling them apart. His tight little hole winked in and out of view, tensing and relaxing invitingly.
“I touch myself sometimes,” Justin admitted, as Father Burke's hands drifted up his body, exploring the small of his back and tracing around again down slim hips to slide curiously down the back of his thighs.
“I'm aware,” said Father Burke drily. He pulled back, realizing what his hands were doing, and plucked the paddle up again.
“Not just... my cock,” Justin said. “Sometimes, I...”
It had been years since he'd let anyone see him so unsure of himself. Long ago, as a child, Justin had been eager to seek help – but adult-Justin, the surly teenager he'd become, the rebellious man – that Justin was far too proud. Father Burke was awakening something in him, though, stripping the rebellious outside away as easily as his clothing and exposing the meek young man inside, forcing him to cave into submission.
He glanced back at the priest. Father Burke was smirking at him, self-satisfaction and victory painted over his face. He had his young enemy spread out helpless before him, utterly exposed, wholly in his power. And he was loving it.
“Look at you,” Father Burke breathed, and Justin cursed the craven part of him that had betrayed him, had let the priest claim him like that. “Admitting your wrongdoings, like a lost puppy. I own you, don't I, Justin?”
A flash of hate rose in him. But a weight was lifting from him, at the same time. Burke was looking at him with something else, too, something Justin had never seen before – a mixture of lust and desire and a burgeoning wonder that snaked seductively right through him.
He tried to resist the emotion, tried to resist the urge. But he couldn't help it. Part of him wanted so badly to please Father Burke, to make that look of ownership and desire permanent, that it forced truth out of him.
Deep down, Justin knew he deserved to be punished.
“Show me,” Father Burke commanded. “Show me what you do.”
“I... I can't,” Justin stammered. “Not at this angle. I do it on my back.”
“Then you'd better turn over then, hadn't you?” The priest put a hand out on his ass, stopping him. “No, wait. Not on the desk.” He moved away, settled himself into a massive scoop-sided armchair in the corner. “Come here, where I can reach you.”
Justin looked over, the blood rushing to his cheeks. He was still painfully hard, fluid dripping out of him and streaking against the side of the desk. Father Burke was looking at him expectantly, gesturing at the armchair.
Does he want me to..?
“In my lap, Justin,” Father Burke ordered. “Now.”
Justin covered his hardness with his hands and shuffled over with his pants around his ankles. When he hesitated, Burke yanked him off his feet, arranging himself into position so his back was resting on the priest's strong legs, his shoulders cradled in one arm while the other slid the paddle up into the gap behind his knees, easing his ass up into the air.
“I think you'd better take these off, hmm?” Burke observed, tugging at the pants with the blade of the paddle.
He had no choice. Blushing with humiliation, he reached down quickly and pulled the pants over his ankles. The motion sent his cock shooting up into the air straight as an arrow, swiveling obscenely in the air with every move as he worked the pants off.
Before he could cover himself again, Father Burke had the paddle slapped up firmly against it, pushing Justin's hardness down against his stomach and letting it flop up again to point at the ceiling.
“Is this what you were hiding?” he asked, giving it a playful little slap with the paddle. He started instinctively at the impact, his back rubbing into the priests' lap. “This sad little thing?”
Justin was quite large – he could wrap both hands around the shaft and the head would still poke out through the top, and it was too thick to close his fingers around completely – but hearing the priest emasculate him like that seemed to make his meaty cock desperate to live up to Father Burke's expectations, hardening even further and twitching
for attention. It swelled eagerly under Burke's disdain, little drops of precum forming and sliding down his shaft as humiliation crept up Justin's face.
The youth tried to cover himself again, but Burke slapped him lightly on the wrist with the paddle. “No,” he ordered. “Enough dawdling. Show me this terrible thing that you do, so I can punish you appropriately for it.”
Justin looked up into his eyes, searching for a way out, but his new master was resolute. Finally, reluctantly, he had no choice but to reach down, to ease his hand through the tangle of pubic hair and down further, pressing against his taint. Down further, further, until finally his fingertips were brushing the tight ring of muscle around his hole, teasing it open.
“Do it!” snapped Father Burke, and, gasping, Justin slid the first finger in.
The paddle snapped against his ass, biting into it so unexpectedly that his finger popped back out.
“Is that all?” Father Burke prompted. Justin glared up at him, a hint of defiance creeping back into him. What did Father Burke know about anything?
“No,” he said, feeling a flash of guilty pleasure. As humiliating as this was, he was going to relish the shock on the priest's face when he saw just how far Justin could go.
He stroked his hand down around his cock, slicking it with the precum that was still streaking copiously from between the lips on the end of the swollen head. He tried again, sliding the finger in easily, joints popping in one after the other until he was buried to the knuckle.
Justin stopped Father Burke's punishment with a hint of a smile, letting him know he wasn't done yet. He worked the finger back out, added a second. His ass pulled open, squeezing tight around his fingers but relaxing with practiced ease around the invasion.
Father Burke licked his lips when he saw the third digit disappear into Justin's hole, still holding the paddle as he let the back of his hand graze up against Justin's and guide the boy, moving in tandem with him as Justin carefully lined up the fourth finger.
The was as far as Justin had ever been able to go, and usually it was only possible after a lot of careful buildup, stretching himself bit by bit until his ass could take that increasingly difficult thickness – and he'd never been able to get all four fingers in past the second joint. But with Father Burke staring down at him with that mixture of disgust, awe and lust – he wanted badly to shock the man, to show him just how naughty Justin could really be.
