MY Confession To Rev. John

I was in my first year of graduate school. There was a requirement that we do a 9-month counseling practicum. I was assigned to an affiliated church camp for young male repeat offenders ages eighteen to twenty who had committed nonviolent criminal offenses.

The courts selected this particular group of offenders because they presented problems for the criminal justice system. They were past the age where they would be under the auspices of the juvenile justice system and were in the adult probation system. But all were facing probation revocation, which meant jail or prison time. So this was a second and last chance alternative.

In addition to learning respect for the law and social responsibility, the young men had real-world opportunities to learn skilled trades, earn a GED, study for college entrance exams and apply for college admission. Upon completing the program, hopefully, they will now become responsible and productive citizens. In addition, upon successful completion, their criminal records were deleted by the court.

In charge was fifty-year-old Reverend John, who was uniquely qualified. Before his ordination, he served in the military, was in combat, and worked ten years in civilian law enforcement. Reverend John was an imposing figure. He was a big, fit, and muscular man who could present himself in a stern, uncompromising manner or as a deeply caring and compassionate man depending upon the circumstances at the time.

The camp was a boot camp, educational facility, and church camp. We dressed all alike, cotton shorts and T-shirts with the camp’s logo in warmer months and sweatshirts and sweatpants in colder months to promote cohesiveness.

The camp had strict rules and violations that resulted in various disciplinary methods, including loss of privileges, writing essays, being assigned extra chores, physical exercise, group confrontation, and corporal punishment when deemed necessary. In the case of serious violations, Reverend John could transfer jurisdiction back to the court for incarceration.

My job was to provide individual and group counseling and address rule violations. I would then escort the resident to Reverend John’s cabin, consult with him, and he would decide the appropriate discipline.

Corporal punishment was rare. Residents were free to decline corporal punishment and chose instead to be returned to the criminal justice system, an option that no one selected. However, I was required to be present when it was to be employed.

Reverend John was a firm believer that paddling was a last resort but did serve a useful purpose. However, he believed it should give the violator plenty of time to consider his misbehavior.

He used a medium-weight ash paddle that produced severe stinging and burning but would not cause bruising during a prolonged paddling.

Reverend John ordered the miscreant to remove his shorts or sweat pants during the punishment. He would then administer the paddling on the standard-issue white cotton briefs.

Afterward, Reverend John would lower the young men’s briefs in the back to check that their buttocks were sufficiently red but not bruised. What followed was corner time with their red bottoms still exposed to give them time to consider their behavior.

The young men returned to their dormitory with their briefs still lowered so others saw their red buttocks and would know the price they had paid for their “sins.” Also adding an element of public humiliation.

It was not uncommon for young men to have visible erections and sometimes wet spots on the front of their briefs, which became even more apparent after corner time. Observing their discomfort during the paddling and corner time was a delightful and unexpected perk of my job.

While a strict disciplinarian, Reverend John was a very amiable fellow, well-liked by residents and staff. He and I got along very well. He and I would often dine together in his cabin, sip good brandy, and engage in conversation on various topics in the evenings.

On weekends most of the staff were off-campus, and Saturday afternoons were a free time for the residents.

An altercation broke out between a slightly built eighteen-year-old named Johnson and a much larger nineteen-year-old named Williams, who was a bit of a bully.

Johnson had given Williams the finger and told him to fuck himself. Williams retaliated by throwing Johnson down to the ground, yanking off his shorts and underwear, and slapping his bare buttocks in front of some other residents. He further humiliated Johnson by making him remain outside bare below the waist.

Word of this incident got to Reverend John. Williams came to Reverend John’s cabin. I was present.

Initially, Williams tried to downplay the incident saying he thought it was funny and did Johnson no harm.

After a brief discussion with Reverend John Williams knew that this assault was a grave offense that wanted expulsion from the camp and returned to the court’s custody. Williams would face two years in prison. However, he tearfully pleaded for this not to happen.

Overall he had a good record, and I did not want to see him expelled and advocated strongly for Williams.

After lengthy consideration, Reverend John told Williams he had a choice. He could either be expelled or submit to a prolonged paddling on his bare buttocks, after which he would be sent outside bare below the waist and apologize to Johnson and the other residents.

Given that Williams felt it was funny, he would have an opportunity to reassess his opinion.

Williams would remain that way the rest of the day, so all could see the price he paid to discourage other such incidents. Reverend John asked my opinion, and I told him it seemed to be an appropriate punishment that fit the crime. Desperately wanting to avoid prison, Williams agreed.

Before being paddled, young Mr. Williams had to stand at attention bare below the waist while Reverend John questioned and lectured him about his conduct. Naturally, Williams did not find this funny.

Perhaps as a result of fear, feelings of vulnerability are maybe adrenaline. Williams stood at attention with an erection the entire time. He was highly humiliated and embarrassed, becoming tearful. Reverend John made no mention of Williams’s state of arousal. I found myself enjoying his predicament immensely.

During Mr. Williams’ punishment, I was mesmerized as I watched his adorable butt go from white to pink to brilliant shiny red, undulating while listening to his pleas and then sobs.

I stood where I could also observe Williams’ cock and balls bouncing up and down with each swat. Then, still hard, his cock began to drip pre-cum.

I glanced out the window during the paddling and saw that Johnson and the other residents were waiting outside Reverend John’s cabin. While they couldn’t see in, they could certainly hear what was happening.

After being paddled, Williams turned around and faced us. He was crying, his cock was fully erect, and he had a long stream of clear pre-cum dripping to the floor.

Williams was escorted out of the cabin by Reverend John to begin his apology tour.

Williams had not expected everyone to be standing right outside. Reverend Johnson addressed the group, Make sure that Mr. Williams remains bare the remainder of the day.

As Williams walked off with his peers, I heard laughter. Everyone took note of his bright red butt and hard dripping cock.

I had empathy for his humiliation. When I was eighteen and paddled by the couch after gym class, I ejaculated and had to take off my gym shorts and jockstrap in front of all my classmates. By the end of the day, everyone knew what had happened.

Reverend John came back in, went to his desk, poured two brandies, and told me to have a seat.

He sat across from me and looked me in the eyes, saying, “I’m distraught, and I need to know why you were fondling yourself during his punishment.”

I told him I didn’t do that. He said, “Please don’t lie to me. I could see your reflection in the glass picture frame.” He continued saying, “You still have a visible erection and like to know how it is that you have a wet spot on the front of your shorts. What do you have on underneath them?”

I looked down, and he was right. I admitted that I wasn’t wearing underwear and that I rarely did.

There was no anger in his voice. Instead, he said to me, “No, lies. I want to hear from you what this is all about. Did you want to be the person who paddled him?”

Reverend John was the kind of person to whom you wanted to be truthful. So, I answered him truthfully. I said, “No, I did not want to paddle him. I wanted to be the one who got paddled.”

I thought he would be shocked or disgusted, but he wasn’t. Instead, he wanted to know why I would like that. I told him that it was because of various things that happened while growing up. He smiled warmly and said, “Please tell me about those things.”

I told him it probably started with Mr. Harris. I told him about being spanked and paddled when he caught me in the yard with no pants on and how it caused me to become sexually aroused.

Reverend John asked, “Did he do anything else?” After paddling me, I admitted that Mr. Harris put his fingers in my butt, which caused me to ejaculate.

I felt an overwhelming need to confess to Reverend John. So I took a couple of sips of brandy and told him all about things that I had done over the past several years.

I told him about my BDSM play with a black guy named Jerome. About my encounter with Jamaal, a black gangster, and what had happened to me after I had asked Jamaal’s sister for a blowjob.

I related how I had been blackmailed and pressured by Lester, an associate of Jamaal, and was used as his white sex toy until I moved. I also told him about my experience as a “Boy Toy” for a motorcycle club.

After hearing the details, he remarked, “Those were some pretty wild and kinky experiences. “Did you enjoy them?” I told him that I did. Then, he asked if I still engaged in that kind of play, and I told him I wasn’t.

He asked, “Do you miss it?” Then, remarking, “Judging from your reaction to Mr. Williams paddling, such things sexually arouse you.”

I couldn’t believe I was sharing this information with him, but it felt good and natural. Reverend John said, “So would you like me to paddle you?”

He shocked me. That’s when I noticed he was smiling and had an erection. Then, finally, it dawned on me that he liked what he had heard.

Things were moving too fast. Frankly, I was stunned at Reverend John’s response. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this, but I wanted it.

Some time passed before I answered him, and then I said, “Yes, please, I would like that.”

He told me, “I’m not so sure you will like it, but I know I will. I liked paddling Mr. Williams, and now after what you told me, I will definitely like paddling you.” He stood up, took a sip of his brandy, and said, “Get your shorts off.” I obeyed Reverend John.

When I removed my shorts, I was fully erect. Reverend Joh took charge. He reached out and took hold of my erect cock, saying, “That’s a good start.” Then, still holding on to my cock he walked me over to his desk and bent me over.

While paddling me, Reverend John admitted that on those occasions when he administered corporal punishment, he experienced sexual pleasure and arousal. But I guess I was too caught up in my feelings to notice.

He said he was enjoying himself while paddling me. He was treating me no differently than he treated Williams. My reaction was identical to Williams’ response.

He was right about one thing: the ash paddle had a hell of a sting and burn. I was moaning and getting into it, and by this time, my cock was rock hard and dripping, the fact that he remarked on.

I didn’t cry like Williams, but my eyes were misty, and my butt was on fire. He told me to remain in place. I obeyed. Then Reverend John surprised me.

He said, “Now I have a confession to make to you. I read a sexually explicit novel about a priest who paddled his students’ bare bottoms and then sodomized them. If I recall, they called it buggering.”

He continued, “That mental image has always stuck in my mind. Whenever I see a bare red bottom, I think how nice it would be to put my dick in it, feel its warmth and dominate its owner. You told me that in the past, men had sodomized you. I would very much like to do it right now. Would that be okay?”

I told him I would like that very much. After getting some lotion, he gave me a proper ending to my discipline session, with both of us ejaculating almost simultaneously.

After we cleaned up, he suggested that we have some more brandy and dinner. Reverend John was in charge, saying that you will remain pants off in line with Mr. Williams’ punishment. He chuckled, “I wonder what the guys are doing to Williams.”

He put me over his lap and spanked me several more times, nor had he had his fill of buggering. Only this time, he used my mouth to make him hard.

At the end of the evening, he said, “Now we have something to look forward to on Saturdays.”

I heard unsubstantiated rumors that the guys told Williams he could either voluntarily get butt fucked by Johnson or forcibly butt fucked by all residents. The story also had it that he wisely opted for Johnson. I don’t know if it was true, but I never saw any more bullying behavior on Williams’s part.

We functioned, as usual, six days a week, but Saturdays became our special day.

Reverend John’s only requirement was that our sessions also served a useful disciplinary purpose.

I was required to confess any inappropriate conduct or misbehavior I committed during the week. Offenses included:
Being lax in my professional duties.
Wasting time or procrastinating.
Not being attentive enough to the resident’s needs.
Skipping daily chapel.
Violation of camp rules.
I always fantasized about being called to the “headmaster’s office, and I knew what was coming.

Reverend John took his role as my disciplinarian quite seriously. As I mentioned earlier, he could be quite stern and intimidating when he chose to be. I stood before him, pants off, and recited every professional shortcoming, inappropriate or unproductive behavior, and all violations of camp rules.

I would have to explain why I had engaged in such conduct, why it was wrong, and what steps I would take to make the necessary corrections. It was never a pleasant experience.

He would then announce what my punishment would be. Usually, he would use his paddle for my corporal punishment, but he introduced a leather strap, cane, or switches on some occasions.

It was real disciplinary punishment. Reverend John did nothing to make it erotic or sensual, leaving that aspect to my private thoughts. It would be untrue to say that he did not enjoy his role as my disciplinarian; he most certainly did. But he also wanted to make me a better person and clinician.

I often hoped the punishment would stop, but it always continued until Reverend John felt I had learned my lesson. I don’t believe I cried, but I always was misty-eyed and apologized profusely during my punishment. Reverend John would then bugger my red and sore butt and order corner time.

After completing my punishment, he introduced the pleasurable erotic play. I found this arrangement entirely satisfactory and look forward to it.

He learned from an ex-cop who handled camp security that I had smoked a joint with two residents on one occasion. He was incensed and dealt with all three of us severely. We walked back to the dormitory with red butts on display. In my case, that wasn’t all that was on display. I regretted not wearing underwear.

It was good that the residents saw that no one was exempt from the rules. It wasn’t very comfortable during the walk seeing the reactions of the residents and staff. I also had to contend with unending ribbing from everyone. All unanimously agreed that Reverand John gave me what I deserved,

Reverend John never said so, but I suspected he was pretty pleased with his handling of my infraction. Young Mr. Williams told me he was delighted. I did note the residents were more responsive to my counseling.

After my practicum was over, I would drive up to the camp every few weeks on Saturdays to spend the weekend. I enjoyed our talks as well as the brandy and dinner.

I also always brought a list of behaviors I was not proud of, and he always thoroughly addressed them. The drive home was always uncomfortable.

Eventually, Reverend John transferred to a church out-of-state, and we went our separate ways, but I never forgot our sessions. He did make me a better man and a better clinician. I hope Reverend John found another young man to mentor.