Email: Wolfpek
Pilgrims Perils
Chapter 1 - The Stocks
ByWolfpek
Email: Wolfpek
Disclaimer: The story contains themes of male on male nonconsensual sex. The author in no way condones rape or torture. This is a fantasy only. If these themes do not interest you, or you are under eighteen you have no business reading this. If they are of interest to you as an adult reader, then please enjoy: Wolfpek
The work of God's servants is never done. Even in our lawful New World settlement, the devil is at work.
I see him hard at work as I gaze out upon the sinful faces of my little congregation.
In the haughty sneer of Goody Warren, the slothful nodding head of Alderman Gilbert, and then there was him. The Word teaches us that the devil appears as an angel of light. Those words were never more true than in the person of the unrepentant Nathaniel Alden. Proud, boastful and vain, he merrily authored even more sins too numerous to name. The worst of these is that he willfully tempted innocent members of my flock to lascivious thoughts, and perhaps even lewd actions.
Even as I bestowed the word of our Lord upon our congregation I watched him staring openly at my own dear niece; Abigail. Even though she kept her eyes demurely downcast, she must have felt the rough azure caress of those cornflower eyes.
It was true he was considered a hero in the community. His uncommon bravery and skill in the wars with the native population had made him far too cocky. He took up space in that humble pew as if he were a king on the throne. His mighty legs spread wide, allowing a clear outline of his long thick manhood displayed by his indecently snug breeches. The collar on his shirt "accidentally" left open to the center of his broad chest revealing a sliver of smooth sun-burnished flesh.
I had seen him at work in the fields, many times, from my study, his shirt cast off from the heat. Flaunting his sinewy torso, sculpted like a pagan idol from hard labor, allowing exposure to bake his skin as savage brown as the heathen Indians. He stopped occasionally to brush back the soft boyish hair, the same sun-burned colour as the wheat he toiled over, from his stern sweating brow
This golden mane was the only soft or boyish feature left to him. Its deceptive innocence belied the square stubbled jaw, broad shoulders, and sinful nature of the first flowering of full blown, prideful manhood.
His disregard for common decency, made me short of breathe and caused my voice to quiver.
The very thought of this young lion, prowling through my fields, flagrantly half naked, his broad flat chest crowned by pert, small red nipples. His tight breeches riding so shamefully low upon his slender hips as to reveal the hint of the curve which flared from the small of his back just before the ripe hard haunches which the threadbare cloth strained to cover, made my knees shake in righteous anger. So much so that I had to grasp the pulpit with my wet palms to steady myself as I stared at that large obscene member resting on his meaty thigh, under the taught threadbare cloth and that patch of flesh at the base of his tender neck mocking me as it peeked from the parted collar.
He was like a wild animal, and for his own good, he must be tamed, and brought back to the flock.
Thank the good Lord that, as His faithful minister, I am the law in our humble settlement, and when the young buck was apprehended leaving my niece's chambers with her locket around his neck,
Some even had the audacity to suggest this was a gift. Even the selfless Abigail offered to swear that had visited her, but I could not allow her to sacrifice her reputation out of charity for this ruffian. She was a virtuous maid. She would never have allowed such a viral youth into her chambers un-chaperoned, much less given him a token of affection
I heard his loutish friends snigger behind my back at the suggestion of such a conquest.
But the Lord is the law here, and I am His voice
I was able to dispense the proper justice to bring this wayward youth back to the path of righteousness.
Our proud young lion would have a night in the stocks!
Old Tobias Milton had been charged with the task of guarding the prisoner, but I couldn't let doddering poor old soul risk his fragile health out alone in the night air.
Our little village was quiet and respectable, and I determined to check in on our young ruffian from time to time to ensure he would come to no harm.
He strode to the stocks like a conquering hero, winking and waiving to his friends, as if this were a small price to pay for his prowess over a good Christian maiden, even nodding politely to the constable before allowing his thick arms and neck to the embrace of the stocks. As he bent the tight breeches hugged the massive globes of his buttocks, outlining each sphere in the gloaming light
I returned to my study for a light supper and prayer for the endangered soul of my wayward sheep, but I found I had no appetite, and so I knelt to pray, but found myself unable. It was him!
Could be be guilty of witchcraft as well?
He was sending his spirit to me, and muddling my prayerful meditation with images of those twin granite curves, and those heavily muscled arms enclosed in thier wooden bonds. Did he struggle as he sent his demon to interrupt my conversation with the Almighty
My mouth went dry as I considered this possibility. I swallowed hard
No! This was not possible. He was guilty of youthful indiscretions, but surely not clever enough to dabble in sorcery.
Concerned for his safety, I rushed down to the square. He was alone, a still and solitary figure imprisoned in the moonlight.
The pale light outlined his big powerful haunches bent defenselessly toward my protective gaze.
As he hung in that tortuous position, his shirt had hiked up, and his breeched had fallen lower upon the hips. I could see the serpentine grace of his flat quivering stomach, and the line that separated it from the lean hips. I counted each vertebrae of his sinewy back bone, framed by the indentation of muscle flowing down, yes, to the very top of the cleft between those ripe mounds
My suspicions had been correct.
It was witchcraft!
This reprobate was sending out his spirits to tempt me.... me. a man of unquestioned virtue with that hint of bare bronzed flesh into an unnatural lust.
He sighed in pain and stretched his aching muscles.
The vein in my forehead began to throb with rage at this young devil's audacity, to think he could entice me to corruption with those broad shoulders and mighty thighs, undulating in exhausted torment.
He must be stopped before he tempts a less stalwart spirit.
It is fortunate that I had the forethought to bring a rag and some rope. Some parishioners might not understand the steps that I must take to save their souls.
He did not hear me approach from behind, so by the time he was able to protest, his cries were stifled into a gag wrapped tightly into his mouth with the rope.
I could begin the holy labor of exorcism undisturbed.
As I secured the gag, my groin rested in the deep cleft between his meaty buttocks, as hard as New Hampshire granite. He tried to tempt my by pretending to struggle and so rubbing them against me, but my resolve was equally as hard.
The devil was strong within this one. It was my duty to find it and wrestle it from this poor misguided youth as Jacob had the angel.
I hiked up his shirt further and felt for where it may be hiding, by placing my hands upon each heaving pectoral, so vast and thick with muscled that my scholars hands could not fully cup them, while I endeavored to hold him still, by pressing my hips more firmly against his writhing buttocks.
I found that the pain of pinching his tender nipples seemed to shock him into stillness.
I continued my search along the ribs, and down to his flat quivering belly. I could count the strange muscles lined his stomach with my fingers. They jumped under my soft exploration, and down to his groin. There it was. The demon which possessed him and used him to torment the whole village, grown so large I could barley get my hand around it, but how to get it out.
I tried milking it from those nipples, but this only caused him to choke on his gag.
I looked down at his sweat soaked back. The muscles, like wings, so wide, and then again, so narrow as they tapered, down to those alabaster spheres always taunting and tempting me. My own member had become a swollen steel righteous weapon
I had it!
I would force the demon out of him!
I yanked the homespun down to his ankles. he bucked like the wild stallion that he was, but to no avail. He was held fast.
Like a pair ripe, juicy peaches, so smooth and vulnerable, and yet such a powerful instrument of temptation, even I had to struggle to resist
This was for his own good. The young rake would suffer horribly but such was the price of salvation
I tried to offer him some comfort by kissing along his spine to let him know I was with him in this fight, but he still resisted.
My resolve and his exhaustion together won out and I speared deep into the heart of the demon hidden deep within his secret centre.
Every muscle in his body seemed to tense against the violence of the assault, and then lay limp.
I could make out a soft piteous moan from underneath his gag.
The demon was stubborn and clever, making the soft snug interior of his violated hole a luxuriantly pleasurable home for my manhood, but I would not be distracted.
I pounded even harder at my opponent, while I worked furiously to milk it from his rugged victim's nipples and cock.
I pulled hard on his testicles lest the imp try to find a hiding place there.
His gruff moans, grew louder, as did the rapid slapping of my hips against the smooth cool flesh of his rump. I feared this might wake a neighbor, but was too frenzied in my zeal to care
Until finally I could sense a new tension of his stomach and groin. Deep within my own belly the Almighty ignited a righteous fire that burned through me and exploded into the depths of his bowels destroying the evil lodged inside. I could feel it squirting out into my hand.
I pulled out of him and watched the thick white goo of the demon seep out of his ruined hole
He hung limp, swooning from the exertion of his ordeal. I ran my hand, like a loving father, along the wide muscles of his back, and cupped a firm buttock, a bit more oozed from him. I used the cloth from his gag to wipe his seed from my hand, and then the sweat from his brow.
I dressed him and returned to my chambers. praise be, secure in the knowledge that through suffering I had brought this brave young lion salvation
Next page