by C. M. Knox
Gasping, he forced the fingers in, straining to open around them. His legs spasmed in the air unsupported, pushing his body weight up into the encircling barrier of Father Burke's arm, and bit by bit, with excruciating slowness, his ass swallowed his fingers.
Burke raised the paddle to land a blow, but he stopped at the defiant joy on Justin's face. The youth was daring him to hit, like this was a contest of wills, like the young man could best him by simply taking everything he could dish out. Well, so be it then. It was a contest the priest would win. Time to surprise Justin.
He fingered the paddle in his hand thoughtfully. It was a hefty thing, the polished handle easily thicker than the wide end of a pool cue, curved into a hand-fitting series of bumps and indents that undulated down the shaft of it and broke up the even line.
It was also perfectly smooth. Perfect, really.
“I'm not sure paddling will suffice for this offense, Justin,” he mused, gratified by the youth's suddenly guarded expression. “You've clearly gone... a bit beyond the pale.”
He turned the handle between his fingers, jabbed it into the bruise he'd left on Justin's left cheek, enjoying the way the little troublemaker winced under the impact.
“Put your hands over your head,” he ordered, and the youth had no choice but to comply, settling his palms on his head like he was being searched. His cock bobbed obscenely in the air in time with the panting breaths that rocked Justin's hard little abs, but Father Burke ignored them, pressing the handle delicately into the hard line of Justin's taint and rolling down it. “Let's see just how hungry that sinful hole of yours is.”
The paddle handle sank home into Justin so fast the youth clenched and spasmed, rocking violently in his lap... but he didn't dare move his hands, and the pressure of Burke's arm where it wrapped under Justin's knee forced him into this bent position, didn't let him flinch down to force the intruder back out. The priest twisted it viciously, savoring the little gasp of pain and surprise the motion wrenched out of Justin's throat before the youth could clamp it down.
He realized he was enjoying this. Loving it, really. And the more Justin fought him, the more he tried to prove he could withstand whatever Father Burke could dish out, the more he loved it.
“Do you want me to stop, Justin?” he murmured, doling out the words like favors. “All you have to do is ask. Say, please, Father Burke. It hurts too much. I can't take it anymore. Beg me, and I'll take mercy on you. Be... lenient.” He twisted the handle again, forced it in another inch. The bulb of a carved wooden knob disappeared roughly into Justin's ass even as the youth wriggled away from it, his eyes watering.
“I won't,” Justin gasped, some part of his defiance fighting back against the compliant way his body was opening to the priest, like it had always longed for this brutal touch. “I... unghh. I'll take... take my punishment like a man.”
“Good boy,” Father Burke soothed, his free hand curling up to stroke Justin's chest affectionately, cradling the youth in until Justin's breath warmed the fabric of his shirt clutching the youth like a filthy pietá. “Good, good boy. And I have such punishments to give you.”
He pushed the paddle in further, not quite violently but utterly without mercy, forcing it in whether Justin could unclench around it or not. The boy moaned against his chest, saliva dampening his shirt as the wood sank home, finally scraping ruthlessly up against his prostate.
His cock jumped, and this time the precum came shooting out, a little squirt of fluid that sprang up in the air and landed wetly between his nipples. Father Burke leaned in unthinkingly, his tongue running up against Justin's skin, tasting the faint salty flavor of sweat and ejaculate, moving on to enfold a pert nipple between his lips.
Justin moaned desperately, struggling to hold still, but his nipple hardened instantly between Father Burke's teeth. “You taste like sin,” he told the youth, then tugged on it with his teeth, forcing Justin to move with him, enjoying the way the lithe body contorted in his lap.
The paddle was embedded in Justin now, the handle sunk in all the way to where it flared out into the flat pad of the hitting surface, sticking out of him like an obscene tail. Father Burke tapped it experimentally, making the boy in his lap gasp again as the paddle shifted inside him. He slapped it with his palm, making it sway back and forth violently, and Justin moaned miserably, helplessly grinding his hips up into the air as if that would give his dripping cock the attention he so obviously craved.
Father Burke stroked the paddle, feeling the place where it merged with Justin's flesh, the tight link where Justin's hole strained to maintain the thick presence inside it. He let his hand drift up, finally, exploring the feel of Justin's body, feeling the smooth fragile skin of his scrotum. He pressed down lightly on a testicle, and Justin's defiance deserted him again.
“Oh...” he moaned, fear covering his face for a fraction of a second. His hands moved down to interrupt the priest, but he slammed them back up over his head, as if hoping Father Burke hadn't noticed.
“Sensitive, are they?” Father Burke taunted, rolling one those ripe balls around in his fingers. Justin was already panting, looking down at his balls like he was afraid the priest was going to rip them off.
He squeezed it, very carefully, testing the reaction. Justin whimpered and sank back, his hips flexing involuntarily inward, the paddle scraping against the armrest and forcing its way into a new angle in his ass, making him stop the motion instantly and freeze, quivering.
He squeezed again, just as gently, but the effect was enormous. He wrapped both of them up in his big hand, buried his fingertips into the place where scrotum met groin, tugged insistently on them. Justin was weak in his arms, whimpering involuntarily.
“Whose balls are these, Justin?” he asked, conversationally. “Yours?”
“Yes,” Justin gasped, and Father Burke tugged again, harder this time.
“Are you sure?” he asked the gasping teen. “Are you sure they don't belong to me?”
“I'm not your slave!” Justin spat, and the priest had no choice but to punish him again, mashing the heel of his palm into the tender flesh until Justin moaned defeat and clutched at his hand, forgetting the order to keep his arms up.
“Whose are they?” he insisted, unrelenting, ignoring the interference from Justin's scrabbling hands.
Justin's cock was surging, gouts of precum splattering up onto his chest, enough that Father Burke had to study it closer to be sure it wasn't actual semen.
“Still want to take it like a man?” he asked, letting the pressure on the youth's scrotum relent.
Justin took a deep breath. Slowly, resolutely, he raised his arms again, planted palms against the top of his head.
“Yes, Father Burke,” he said, decisively, almost tauntingly. “I'm a sinner. I deserve to be punished.”
Father Burke smiled down at him. He traced Justin's jaw with a rough finger, slapped the boy's face affectionately. “Yes you are,” he said simply. “You're a very bad young man.” He cupped Justin's balls gently. “But it's good of you to admit it.”
He rolled them between his fingers, admiring the way Justin clamped down on his responses, biting back moans of pleasure or pain or both.
Justin was totally unprepared for it, when Father Burke took some crucial step and closed his hand around his shaft, working the skin up and down. The priest slid his foreskin up, pulled it back down again, staring at it with clinical fascination – but for Justin the sensation was unbearably strong, coupled with the rough grind of the paddle buried deep in his ass and after the abuse his balls had just been through.
He bucked helplessly against the hand, moaning recklessly loud. He didn't care about anything just then, the only thing in the world that mattered was the sweet clutch of the priest's hand wrapped around him, in that place that no one but him had ever touched.
The priest stopped moving it, his hand holding still and level in space, and Justin bucked into it as best he could.
“I'll be very
annoyed with you if you come, Justin,” Father Burke warned, and Justin hesitated, his hips slowing their frantic pace. “Very annoyed. I fear the punishment would be... most severe.”
Justin thought about it, keeping himself still with effort. He glanced down at the priest's hand, just covering the tip of his cock, a little drip of precum rolling over his fingers. He looked up at Father Burke, and that paternal expression of disapproval wakened the defiance in him again.
He rolled his hips up, staring rebelliously into Father Burke's eyes. Rolled his hips down again. His cock slid wetly between the priest's motionless fingers.
“If you come, Justin,” Father Burke said softly, “it won't be a paddle I put inside you, to punish you.”
He rolled faster, a slow and steady motion, letting Burke's hand move all the way down to the base, all the way up almost past the tip. Again.
“And it won't be gentle.”
Justin could feel the familiar warning signs rising, the tightness in his balls, the way every nerve in his cock seemed hyper-aware of every slight contact made with Father Burke's grip.
“I'm a sinner, Father,” he grated out, bucking faster, his mind made up. He thrust up into the waiting hand, pounding up at it as best he could at the awkward angle, the paddle handle flapping excitingly up and down in his ass. “I deserve to be... oh God, Father, I'm... I'm...”
Father Burke's hand spasmed around him, feeling the surge come pouring up through his thick young cock, and then spunk was flying out of him, covering his chest with gobs of white fluid, speckling the priest's shirt. A shot landed on his cheek, trickled down it like a tear. He never broke eye contact, daring the priest to stop him, but Father Burke just let him buck.
His hand stroked down around Justin, wringing a few last drops out of the youth. He couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or pleased. Burke bent down and licked the bit of white off Justin's face, rolled it over in his tongue. There was no mistaking this for precum.
He shook his head. “Well, that's done it, Justin,” he said, trying to disguise his excitement. From the way Justin was looking at him, though, the youth was more than a little aware of the hard swell of Father Burke's erection, where it pressed into his damp back. “I have no choice but to punish you further.”
“Yes,” Justin breathed, a hint of irony darkening his tone. “I've been very bad, Father.”
Burke pushed the come-soaked teen off his lap, sending him sprawling across the floor, and stood. “Bend over the desk,” he ordered. Justin obeyed instantly, scrambling to his feet and leaning down over the table in a familiar pose, his bruised ass up and waiting. The paddle waved at Father Burke invitingly, beckoning him into the tight heat it occupied.
Justin braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the thrust, but Father Burke took his time. The priest pulled the paddle out in increments, the curves of the finger-rests popping out of him one by one until it finally emerged completely, and Justin willed himself to relax for the inevitable onslaught... but when it didn't come, he mewled with involuntary fear. He could feel his stretched hole starting to retract, closing up again, and Father Burke was letting it happen.
He heard a zipper come open, and then the priest's hands were on him, kneading into the bruises the spanking had left with vicious familiar ease, like Father Burke knew exactly where to twist and push to send little rills of pain swirling up Justin's spine. He wriggled, willing the priest to get on with it, wanting to finally feel the punishing presence of cock opening his virgin hole... but the Father still didn't push in.
Instead, he ran his hands up Justin's hips, around to the front of his torso. The priest's cock slid up between his legs, and Justin felt a spasm of fear. Suddenly the priest's jab about Justin's impressive-by-most-standards size made sense; Father Burke was easily thicker than the paddle handle had been, and although it was impossible to tell his length from this position, when the priest leaned up to slather his hands in the come that covered Justin's chest, the cock easily slid up far enough to push past his thighs and slide up against the underside of his penis.
The priest let him feel that immensity – let him stew on what he'd done, and just how bad the punishment would be – as he slicked Justin's hole with his own semen, working it in just enough to smooth the entry. He pulled back, slapped his meaty immensity against Justin's poor bruised buttock, and worked the rest of Justin's mess onto himself, lubricating.
Justin was moaning by the time the priest was good and ready, his ass puckering out hungrily, suicidally brave. He was desperate to feel that length sink into him, to feel Father Burke stabbing into his insides as relentlessly as he'd paddled Justin's ass, dominating him with the power of his body.
Justin knew, instinctively, that if the priest did it, if he was going to own Justin as thoroughly as that massive fuckstick promised he could... he knew that he would lose, and lose hard, and the priest would own him forever. It would not be surrender, Justin would not let himself surrender, not really. He needed to be conquered.
The same thought had struck Father Burke, and when he entered, he did it like an invading army. Justin had been loosened considerably by the paddle, its little motions and arches helping him to relax and accept its girth into him... but it was nowhere near enough to prepare him for Father Burke burying his huge cock into his hole in one long, relentless push, splitting him open so hard that tears sprang to his eyes and he screamed helplessly into balled-up fists.
The priest didn't let him relax into it. The second his pubes brushed up against Justin's hole he withdrew again, slamming back in with cruel force. He fucked all his irritation into Justin, all the headaches the troublemaker had caused him, all the hours of conferences with teachers and janitors, all the frustrated attempts at outreach.
The delinquent's cries were quickly turning from pain to ecstasy beneath him as pain and pleasure mixed, thrusting back to meet him each time he sank home into the almost-painfully-tight confines of Justin's most private, sacred place. He grabbed compliant hips and yanked the youth back onto him, forced Justin's legs apart to sink as deep as possible into him with each stroke, relishing the feeling of total power over this young man who'd been a thorn in his side for so long.
On impulse he reached out, brought his hand down hard on the welts left by the paddle. It felt different, skin on skin contact. More... intimate. He did it again, timing it with the motion of his hips, savoring the way Justin clamped down involuntarily around him under the double impact, making it even harder on himself.
“Take it,” grunted Father Burke. “Take every inch, you cock-hungry little slut. I want to hear you scream.” The boy's ragged breathing turned into a low moan when Father Burke reached down and grabbed a handful of hair, pressing Justin's face hard into the desk.
“F-Father,” Justin cried out, desperately. “I- I- it's coming again, I'm going to-”
“Don't you dare,” warned the priest, even as he ground his cock up against Justin's waiting prostate as hard as he could manage. “You come again, and I'll have to fill your tight virgin ass with spunk to teach you a lesson.” He dragged the boy upright by the hair and reached around, squeezed Justin's nuts in his hand while the youth spasmed and moaned against his chest, impaled on him. Justin's cock waved and pulsed like a living thing over the surface of the desk, shaking in time with the tugs on his balls. “These belong to me now, you spill when I tell you to.”
Justin screamed desperately, clenching every muscle in his body, but Father Burke mercilessly jammed into him again and it was all over. His balls jumped inside the confines of the priest's clutching hand and then semen came shooting out of him again, wave after powerful wave of come flinging themselves out into obscene patterns across the priest's hardwood desk.
“I'm sorry,” he moaned helplessly as the priest bent him back over, grinding his face and chest into the mess he'd made, pounding into his ass even harder than before until Justin's legs were trembling from the force of it. “I tried not to, it just felt
so good...”
“You'll... take it...” Father Burke grunted out, panting from the effort of maintaining this brutal pace. “You... little delinquent... I'm going to... fill your tight little... virgin hole...”
“Do it,” begged Justin. “Do it, please, punish me, Father Burke, I'm so... bad...”
The priest grunted and slammed into him, and then something deep within Justin's ass slammed in even farther, great gouts of come breeding up into him again and again while Father Burke held him pinned to the desk, forcing his moaning face into the come-stained wood while the priest ground mindlessly into him in endless brutal short thrusts.
When he finally pulled out, Father Burke's cock brought a trail of spunk with it, a thread of fluid that connected them even after his huge member had pulled out of Justin's clenching hole. Come dribbled down the inside of Justin's thigh, a tiny echo of the memento the priest had deposited deep in that private heat that now belonged, wholly and irrevocably, only to him.
Father Burke zipped up, tucking his shirt back into place, and slapped Justin's abused ass one last time. “I think you've been punished enough for today,” he said, watching the youth pant weakly in his position spread limp over the desk. “I absolve you.”
“Yes, Father Burke,” Justin said softly. He stood stiffly, slid his pants back on with ginger care. “Thank you, Father Burke.” His eyes were shining with something that wasn't quite love and wasn't quite submission.
Father Burke had never wanted to kiss anyone so badly. He stopped himself, licked his lips instead. “Go forth and sin no more,” he instructed, and a bare hint of rebellion crossed Justin's face.
“And if I do sin more?” he challenged, though his tone was subservient.
