#aelius.txt

Now his muscles must work to hold this half-kneeling, half seated position.

I could have had him roll his trousers up, but it's easier to just remove them entirely in this instance. That way, the head of a large, silicone cock can rest between his thighs, its wide base suctioned to the floor. Gently, I'd nudge its tip just against the entrance of his cunt. With that, I'd leave him to it, trusting his lesson to be learned.

As the shuddering muscles of his thighs grow fatigued, he finds himself sinking further down onto the toy, forced to take its slow, deep stretch as his strength flags.I should hope to return to find him seated, the entire length buried inside his cunt, full to his very limit. The deep, overwhelming ache of being so stuffed serves as useful of a mortification of the flesh as his bruised knees.

And the soreness will be a good reminder in the coming days.

finally you get your chance to slip into the other side of that dark box and you immediately hear his labored breathing through the screen. it's impressive, how he's kept his composure.

"You'll have to forgive me, Father," as you begin to dial the vibrations up and listen to him struggle

Penance, in the form of a chastity belt. He'll always wear it during services, locked up tight under his cassock to remind him of his vow and keep his more distracting thoughts at bay.

I personally will keep track of the key, lest he be tempted.

He came to me not quite lost. Misguided, perhaps. Respectful enough of our differing truths, but he granted no credence to the guidance I'd hoped to provide.

Invitations to discussion were often turned away with a polite smile and a careful redirection, his hands fidgeting with his coat sleeves. This I paid no mind. He was not the first and would not be the last to cast doubt upon us.

There are times, every now and again, when a challenge presents itself. When the Lord asks that we share His glory even with those that believe themselves undeserving. And he would be mine. My chance to prove my efficacy and earn my divine reward from our Savior.

My words, though, fell upon a closed heart. He was a man of practical matters, and met my advances first with pleasantries and then with disdain, and thusly I sought a more direct approach.

I have him now, alone in the hall that serves the good people. The door is locked. He questions me at first, and then grows fearful. He thinks I don't recognize the way he looks at other men. How, once in a while, he looks at me. His fear turns to anger as I close in on him, pressing his back to the pulpit. His hands tighten into fists.

You won't swing on me, boy. You're in my home.

After a tense moment, he seems to recognize this, and the burning in his eyes gives way to mortified understanding.

Better. We'll make a saint of you yet.

Of course, I tell him as I trail a hand down the front of his shirt. The first step on this righteous path is to confess that which you are guilty of.

I tug his shirt free of his trousers, a hand planted squarely on his chest to keep him in place. The air must be cold, and he shivers as it touches his skin. I touch lower, ghosting my fingertips over his belt, his lower stomach. His lip curls in equal parts fear and disgust as I palm at his hardening cock through his trousers.

As I suspected. His face is mutinous and I feel his breathing hitch under my palm. Lust.

Well, out with it then. The only way I can absolve you of this sin is if you tell me. I'll even make it easier.

He's wordless, knuckles whitening on the edges of the pulpit as I work a hand into his trousers and press my fingertips against him. Slow, torturous circles as he pants and glares, humiliated and horrified and aroused.

I smile.