The frame was righted and to his surprise the chains supporting his arms were freed from the ratchet. The metal sleeves were slid down the frame and pegged such that they could not be slid back up, then the chain was tightened slowly as strong but gentle hands pressed on his shoulders pushing him down into a kneeling position. The chains were tightened until his arms were now stretched down behind him almost connecting with his ankles, his knees resting on leather hassocks. As he adjusted to this new position he felt a gentle pressure between his buttocks and another slicked object apparently attached to some sort of frame was gently pushed forward so that he could not kneel slackly but had to remain upright or else impale himself further on the protrusion behind him.

The monks now queued up and one by one regardless of age, took their turn to stroke and tease his chained body into arousal to gently suck his manhood enjoying the sweetness of his pre-cum as again and again he was brought to edge. Angelo’s mind was being as blown as his cock. The effort of kneeling upright was exhausting and the constant ministrations to his engorged organ caused him to pump his hips which in turn caused the dildo he was hooked upon to slide over his sensitised prostate causing further paroxysms of sensation that threatened to send him over the edge.

How long this went on for he had no idea but his nuts ached and his tits felt licked/stroked raw, but still they had not allowed him to come.

Suddenly it all stopped and all eyes turned to the Seigneur who rose and handed a written instruction to two of the larger brothers wearing the slit robes. Angelo recognised one as the co-torturer from his first visit. He also noticed a puzzled frown cross the young face of his bearded assailant, the violet-eyes taking on a look of concern as if this were not a part of the established game plan. A cold feeling clenched in Angelo’s belly and he wondered if he should, perhaps, be worrying a little more.

The two brothers returned carrying a similar item to the strange barrel with springs Angelo had investigated earlier. Once again it was a small barrel, or tun, laid horizontally on two sturdy trestle legs. This was placed half way between Angelo still chained, kneeling to the frame; and the high backed chair previously occupied by the head of the order, with one flat end pointing to the chair and the other towards Angelo. The fleece of a sheep was placed face up over the barrel and then another placed atop that, face down, to create a padded leather surface. Angelo suspected he knew what was about to happen but waited in silence as did the members of the now silent community gathered around him.

To Angelo’s surprise and to that of most others present, the two burly figures both of whom had grizzled beards and shaved heads, took stance not next to Angelo but behind the young monk who had been the primary actor during his first visit. ‘Violet-eyes’ glanced nervously towards his superior, who ignored him and nodded to the waiting henchmen. Gently but with firm deliberate actions, the young acolyte was stripped of his robe. One man held his arms from behind whilst the cincture was untied and the slit sided robe was slipped over his head.

Angelo was fascinated to see the figure over which he had fantasised standing naked before him. As the two grizzled men continued to hold an arm each, they gently ran their free hands down the torso of the slighter man, gently teasing his exposed nipples and taking turns to handle his junk. The young monk was blushing furiously, clearly in a state of arousal and confusion and even greater embarrassment having his body revealed and abused thus, before the eyes of the entire community. Angelo caught a glance in his direction, and if anything the look of flaming shame was even deeper. A dispassionate part of Angelo’s mind considered the naked man’s body and thought the young monk had nothing to be ashamed of; a young gymnast’s body with broad shoulders a deep chest, tight abs and slender hips, strong thighs and well shaped calves; reasonably well hung and as he was turned towards the barrel... an ass to die for! Angelo jumped at his own reaction, but ... Hot Damn! The guy had a bubble-butt you could rest a brick on, and even if Angelo was cerebrally surprised at his own thoughts, his carnal instinct recognised what it liked and his cock jumped in appreciation!

The naked man was made to lie across the barrel, head to Angelo’s right, arms bent, hands gripping the rims of the barrel, his magnificent butt raised into the air and his already excited and dripping cock and balls hanging down as his legs were left feet spread, supporting his weight on the floor. Silence descended once more, and despite the evident shame on the young guy’s face, Angelo was amazed by the submission and the dignity with which he bore this treatment. The leader of the order stepped forward and rolling up his sleeves to reveal pale but wiry, muscular arms, he brought his right hand down with a stinging slap onto the prone man’s buttocks. The sound echoed around the room and the body jerked but did not rise. A red welt in the shape of the Prior’s fingers already showed on the pert pale flesh.

As Angelo watched in growing excitement, the perfect butt was brought to a flaming rosy glow more intense even than the flushed face of the younger man receiving this punishment. At times the Prior would stop to squeeze the man’s testicles and gently tease a hand down the back of the guy’s cock, collecting the juice he found their either to lick at or to lubricate the organ itself causing the victim to writhe in ecstasy but never to stand, or to speak. Angelo could feel the heat rising in his own genitalia as he watched this spectacle, the blood throbbing into his cock at the sight of this minister of his own torture submitting to another.

The gathered monks watched in silence ‘all eyes’ on the perfect rump being repeatedly spanked and stroked; even the caresses now causing a jolt as the tenderised flesh reacted to the lightest touch. “All eyes”, that is, except the Prior and his two henchmen. The green eyes never wavered as they watched Angelo’s face; watching with satisfaction, the growing signs of desire they saw there.

So engrossed in what he was watching, Angelo was startled when he felt the shackles at his wrists and ankles being released and two sets of strong arms helped him upright, massaging his shoulders and knees until he felt able to stand. He was nudged forward until he stood opposite the Prior, the shivering form of the young monk between them. Still gazing into Angelo’s eyes, the older man brought his hand once more down across the muscled posterior in a stinging slap; the sterterous breathing and swallowed gasps indicating how close the victim was to orgasm. With a nod to Angelo, the Prior indicated with his hand that Angelo was to continue the action.

Swallowing against a dry mouth, Angelo first placed his hand gently onto the welted flesh, stroking it and marvelling at the heat rising from the stricken man. The young monk turned and looked at Angelo flushed with shame but also with a pleading look that gave Angelo a huge erotic thrill. He raised his hand and brought it sharply down across the rosy ass-cheeks. The young man closed his eyes and moaned in his throat. Angelo spanked again and again. The younger man’s fist came up to his mouth and he bit on a knuckle; his eyes closed stifling a groan.

As Angelo prepared to swipe down once more, his hand was stayed by the Prior, who shook his head and instead dipped his hand in a bowl of the milky lubricant and anointed Angelo’s streaming cock and then gently lubricated the quivering pucker of the submissive young monk. The intent was clear; mind and body already on the edge, Angelo needed no second invitation. A distant corner of his mind was watching his own actions in disbelief. Six months ago, no not even six; two months ago what he was about to do would have seemed impossible, but he wanted it now and he prepared himself.

The prone man before him had turned on the barrel to look him in the eyes, one foot still on the ground one leg raised and bent, toes curling, the hands still gripping the rims of the barrel. Angelo rested the engorged head of his slicked cock against the moist sphincter of the man before him. He rested his hands on the hot pert, quivering buttocks and slowly eased his hips forward. Trying to be gentle he slowly pushed the flared head through the tight yet slippery sphincter; the sensation on his massively aroused tool was deliciously hot and firm. He was trying to resist too fast a motion as he was not sure how long he would last and had started a trembling slide into the man, when he felt and heard the hard hot crack of a slap across his own exposed butt. In reflex he shoved into the man beneath him who groaned, so he pulled back only to feel another hot strike across his muscled glutes, forcing him in reflex to plunge back in, he tried to set up a steady rhythm despite the stinging spanks to his own butt and slowly, although fully cognizant of the growing heat, managed to bring his rhythm under control, as the now rhythmic spanking raised him to new heights of arousal.

Suddenly there was a deep low moan from the man beneath him and he felt a series of long quivering spasms pulsing around his cock and felt the splash of warm fluid down his legs and feet. The urge could not now be denied and with an animal roar, Angelo ploughed his raging hard-on into the groaning man and collapsed over him, face pressed into his back, as his juice pumped out of him and he finally came, the excessive flow spurting out around his engorged member as he continued to pump himself into the naked man beneath him in weakening spasms until exhausted he lay, face resting sideways on the back below him, his eyes glazed, looking out at a sea of enraptured ageing faces. For a moment he rested there, staring out in incomprehension then as memory resurged, a familiar cloying odour came to him and as he was about to struggle the cloth covered his face and he knew no more...

...he started awake, once more in the garden. He looked about, the sun was low in the sky and the garden was empty. Angelo rose unsteadily to his feet his whole body ached with a mixture of warmth and soreness. How long either of the sessions he had undergone had lasted he had no idea. He jogged over to the now closed door, which as he suspected was locked. The jogging had caused an ache in his free-hanging nuts and he sagged back, leaning against the studded door, feeling its warmth and roughness against his flesh, clutching his violated genitals. The fiery ache in his butt from the pounding by dildo had eased to dull warmth and despite his discomfort, he felt a powerful urge to masturbate as he remembered the feel of the device pulsing in and out of him. Is that what it would feel like to be fucked? He remembered the sensation of entering another man... not just any man... Is that what it had felt like for him?

As he stood pondering these thoughts, a piece of paper fluttered down before him. He snatched at it and spun out of the arch to search the windows above. A shutter was swiftly closing and he stopped himself from calling out. He knew it would not help. Instead, he unfolded the page. It was torn from a copy of that day’s regional newspaper, on one side was local news about a spate of thefts in the town and an incident involving a bus and a taxi; on the other side in one corner was an advertisement that had been circled in red felt-tip:

Written underneath it in the same red felt-tip pen were the words:

You WILL apply!

...and that was how his adventures began.
Ferdy 2014
(Inspired by the artworks of Franco)