Chapter Four
THE JOCK STRAP Part 2. Penitential Punishment
"Brother James SJ is a teacher at a Catholic boarding school and is exactly what you'd expect a Jesuit to be - tall, lean, severe, fearsomely intellectual and tortured by sex. His vows of celibacy mean, as far as he is concerned, that he must not only forswear the sexual act but that even thinking about sex is a sin. An erection therefore is the work of the devil and masturbation is damnation. As the poor sod is a paederast, his work among young lads in his care is daily torture. He tries to discipline himself by means of mortifying the flesh - self flagellation and bondage, but as he is also a masochist this only heightens his sinful arousal, a condition which merits harsher acts of self discipline, which in turn heightens his sexual need and so on in a vicious spiral until he either has a wet dream or, worse still, actually masturbates. At this point his need for penance and punishment is so great that he comes to me "for help"!
"By coincidence, I'd had a letter from him, begging to "be allowed to make a pilgrimage of penance" to me, as he so quaintly expresses it, on the very morning of the day of the police rugger match. So, having literally beaten the fuck out of Mike, I quickly saw the potential of the soiled jock strap. I sealed the soggy thing in a plastic bag and posted it to Br. James telling him that as an act of penance he was to wear it continuously for the next six days until I was ready to receive him and that this would prevent him from 'interfering with himself'. Naturally, I had no doubt that it would have the effect of keeping him a state a near - permanent sexual arousal so that by the time he came to me he would be in a state of gibbering need.
"On his arrival I ordered him to strip off his cassock and interrogated him about his sexual peccadilloes, especially whether he had indeed worn the jock continuously and had refrained from handling himself. Miserably, he said he had. 'So, you have been able to quell your sinful urges' I stated. Even more miserably he moaned that no, he had not, that he had been tortured by "unholy lusts" and begged me to help him by means of imposing "the harshest corrective discipline". I cupped my hand under his crotch pouch and found that not only was he tumescent but that the pouch was soaked with lubricant pre-cum. This was exactly as I expected for I have never known a man produce fuck-juice as freely as he and I had no doubt that the jock would have been virtually continuously wet for days. Nevertheless,I pretended to be outraged by this evidence of his uncontrolled and shameful carnality and made him squirm under a tirade of abuse. Cringeing, he begged me to take him to the punishment room "to purge his guilt". (Don't you just love the language of these religious fanatics? But I'm very happy to manipulate it to serve my own ends!)
"As usual, he was wearing a long strap high round his chest. This crossed on his back and came up under the armpits, very tight, to buckle at the back of his neck. The effect would be to force one into a round shouldered stoop to ease the pressure, but needless to say it was a matter of pride to a Jesuitical fanatic to maintain a rigidly upright posture at all times, no matter how harshly the strap bit into the flesh. Apparently he had put it on at the same time as the jock strap and had worn it continuously too. To remove it was not so much a question of taking it off as of peeling it out of his flesh, leaving an ugly red weal.
"Usually I would double it in half and wrap it once around my knuckles which still left a loop over two feet long - a pretty vicious implement - but this time I stretched it taut between my hands at shoulder height so he could see, and slowly twisted one end round and round until it would twist no more. Then I swiftly brought both ends together so that it twirled on itself to make a single twist of double thickness leather. He watched with a sort of fascinated horror, knowing exactly what I was doing, knowing that the twisted strap would always present a mixture of doubled flat and doubled edge as it impacted on his body and that the force and weight of flat and edge would be the same but concentrated into a much smaller surface area where the edges struck . . .
"Nor did I wind it once about my fist. I held it up before his eyes and let it hang, nearly two an a half feet of twined rawhide strap. I nodded solemnly and without a word he folded his arms across his chest like a true penitent, dropped to his knees and, bowing his head low, offered the whole length of his lean, muscular back to the lash. I flogged him with vigour and severity. "Mea culpa" he moaned, "mea maxima culpa" as the leather scarred his back. No question of tying him down like Mike. He needed to submit himself voluntarily to the lash. However, he is always much less keen to perform the next act of penitential self abnegation - to suck me off. This he really hates but knows he must do and that I'll just go on beating him until he does.
"When at last he had satisfied me, I made him stand while I stripped the jock from his loins. It was soaked with fuck-slime and a long bright string of it dribbled from his cock. I made him lie on his back while I tied ropes round his ankles and hoiked him up to the meat hooks in the roof beam until only his head and shoulders remained on the floor, his hands firmly bound behind his back. His legs were splayed wide apart so that his genitalia were blatantly displayed in a way that must have been acutely distressing to a man who spent so much energy trying to deny his sexual nature. More to the point, it left him conveniently exposed and vulnerable to my attentions.
"With ostentatious show I pulled on a pair of bright yellow household rubber gloves to underline that I was going to work on an obscene and disgusting area of his body. The gloves made it a bit difficult to fix the straps and buckles of the cock harnesses and to knot the leather boot laces round his balls with precision, but a bit of awkward fumbling between his legs was no bad thing. He yelped and whimpered and pleaded most satisfyingly as I worked, but his rigidly erect cock and copious dribble told a different story . . . especially when I forced in the butt plug. Finally I grasped his cock in my rubber-clad fist and slowly jerked him off, ensuring that his spunk spurted straight down into his face. I smeared it over his face and chest and made him lick his semen off the glove - the ultimate degradation. He was a bit reluctant to do this, but when you are helpless with your legs in the air, you are wide open to persuasion. 'Let this be a lesson to you to abjure the dirty sins of the flesh' I told him sternly. Then I released the bonds and made him don his cassock over his beaten and defiled nakedness and sent him out into the night with the admonition to "go forth and sin no more".
"So, there is no actual Jesuit semen on the jock - but it has been liberally marinaded in lots and lots of sweat and sin and suffering and seepage. Think on that when you come to put it on - but not yet.
"There is one more man's smell in it, and I want you to know about him too.