Simon Says - 1. Chapter 1

He was one of three lay Brothers who patrolled the corridors at night, all night. We called them the Chastity Committee—behind their backs. These brown robed Friars would pop into any one of our tiny cells at any hour; jerk back the blankets for a surprise flashlight inspection. Their charge was to make sure we remained pure.

Brother Simon was not much older than me, maybe 26. Those of us under his autocratic authority were 16 to 22.

Me? I had just turned 21.

Hardly a night would pass without him opening the door to my cell, a room no bigger than the length of my bed and maybe twice a wide: a six by six foot cubical at best. Often he found me sound asleep, or pretending to be, but if I had so much as a trace of an erection he would sake me—wake me, demanding to know what impure thoughts I was sharing with Satan.

Oh yes. We were required to sleep stark naked.

“None,” I would answer. “I was asleep, Brother Simon,” I would tell him without variation. “He would then peel me, take the tip of his wooden handled multi-stripped leather strap from his cassock and slap the glans of my penis hard enough that it caused me to gasp and my cock to throb.

“What filthy thoughts were you entertaining, Damien?” he’d demand to know, slapping my cockhead again with the supple rawhide strips.

“I really don’t know,” I’d repeat, sure the leather would strike my sensitive head again creating a more hardened muscle. Finally, I’d either made-up something, something I knew he wanted to hear, or level with him.

“I was thinking about being in the shower with the other seminarians—jealous of how big some of them are,” I said to him, with total honestly, this morning. “I can’t help it. They look so….”

With that he’d make me get out of bed and stand naked in front of him while he strapped the end of my unit repeatedly making it harder and harder with each contact. Then, without fail, Brother Simon would order me to kneel, where I would be at nose level with his cock, an erection that was sticking out of his robe, diamond hard.

“Your penance for those disgusting thoughts,” he’d say as if reading a proscribed prayer from a sacred book, “is to humble yourself before me. You are a filthy minded young man obviously unable to subdue the flesh as God requires of us. Here we fight fire with fire.”
He would have me draw back his uncircumcised foreskin. Then letting go of his manhood, his long dong would drop—drop directly onto my extended tongue and he would force it deep into my throat. As he pumped my face, he’d pray: “Oh God, save this sinner from the fires of hell. He lusts in his heart for men just as Paul forbade in his letter to the Romans. He looketh upon his brethren when they are naked wanting to make his sinful self like unto them. Rescue him dear God from Satan who has wrapped his impious thoughts around and through the mind of your lowly wretched servant, for without your mercy he will surely burn forever in the fires of hell.” My mind would oscillate between

Brother Simon’s potent prayer and his powerful penis.

“The only way to cure you of this lusting,” he would say, “is via prayer, and to make experiencing the large phallus painful and unpleasant.” With that, he’d shove himself deep into my larynx causing me to gag.

He stood with is hands on my head, the laying on of hands he called it, and pray out loud as I vigorously sucked his overgrown unit. “Lord God, bless this poor wretch as he receives my sanctified seed. May it, coming as it does from your Ordained Servant, disinfect him from within so that he may live a saintly life from this moment forth. Keep impure thoughts from his weak mind and make his heart holy as your grace helps him subdue his sinful flesh.” He continued his prayer until he exploded into my mouth. Then, he ordered me to swallow his seed as an act of contrition, humility, and obedience.

I’d use small wet towels to “purify his penis” from the sacrifice he had just made. As I had been instructed, I’d then slide his skin forward to cover his head. When I had finished, he’d pat my head like a dog which was my cue to bow down and kiss his feet thanking him out loud for being willing to share himself in my purification. If, when I finally stood again, I was flaccid, he’d permit me to return to my bed. If I was hard, the entire process would often start anew—or it might not.

One night he came in finding me with a huge throbbing erection. He walked out leaving the bedcovers jumbled below my hips. A minute later he returned with another seminarian in toe, one of those whom I admired in the shower so often. He had a massive but recently circumcised cock, one that when soft, dangled nearly a quarter of the way to his knees. When hard, like now, it stuck out straight like a baseball bat. We looked at each other, not knowing exactly what was going to happen, but because of past solo encounters with Brother Simon, we knew which body parts would be involved.

“You are both wretched sinners,” he snarled. “Both so focused on your penises that you can’t focus on our precious Lord. Now is the hour you will come to regret your sins with a painful submission to the authority vested in me over your miserably sinful lives. First, get on your knees while we pray for the salvation of your souls lest they be damned forever. Our bare knees fell to the grey concrete floor.

Naked we faced each other, Andrew and me, his massive cock nearly touching mine as we looked away from each other into Brother Simon’s large green eyes. “You can barely get your eyes off him,” Simon said to me. “I’m beginning to think you are nothing but a homosexual—a queer—an abomination in the sight of our previous Lord.” He was whispering, but he may as well have been screaming at us.

“Are you?” he asked. “Are you a homosexual? A queer?” He glared.

“I am not,” Andrew said emphatically.

“I don’t know, Brother Simon.” I had been taught that lying to a man of God was an unforgivable sin. “I don’t understand that much about it. I might be,” I admitted, trying to be totally candid.

“Have you ever had sex with a woman?” he asked looking from me to Andrew.

“Yes, Brother Simon, I have,” Andrew replied without hesitation, and without hesitation Brother Simon smashed the flat of his hand into Andrew’s face, yelling: “You rotten sinner.”

“I’ve confessed it, Brother Simon, and I believe that I am completely forgiven.”

“Not here are you forgiven. Not with me. That is an experience that will fester within you all your life, and so will the black mark on your immortal soul.” He slapped Andrew, again; this time across the other cheek.

“Is that what you were thinking about when I walked into your room?” the

Brother asked now holding his cedar handled strap in hand. “You were deep into the sin of lust, weren’t you, Andrew?”

“Yes, Brother Simon. I could not help it. Satan filled my head with images that I

couldn’t….”

The leather tassels slammed across Andrew’s back. “You wretched sinner,” he screamed and slashed out at him again.

“And you, Damien? With whom have you sinned?”

“I have never had sinful contact with a woman, Brother Simon,” I said, certain he would not be satisfied with that answer.

“But, you have had sex with males?”

“Only once. Before I entered the seminary, sir. I was asleep at winter camp when one of the other scouts crawled into my sleeping bag to keep warm.”

“And just how warm did you two Boy Scouts become?” He asked sarcastically.

“He began to manipulate my penis, and took my hand and put it on his. We pleasured each other, Brother Simon.”

“You mean you sinned with each other, the most detestable sin of the flesh. How often did you masturbate before you arrived here in God’s holy house?”

“At least daily, sir.” I confessed bowing my head. The leather whizzed through the air and landed on my back. It sounded like a firecracker and felt like the sting of a swarm of yellow jackets.

“And you, Andrew?”

“The same, sir.”

Again the strap crashed down, this time on his swollen penis.

The small room was boiling now with nervous sweat; the three of us highly tensioned. Andrew’s nine-inch cock was throbbing up and down as if he were trying to rid himself of his arousal but failing each time. My eyes would not look away as I licked my lips wanting my cock to be as big as his. Packing seven inches never seemed insignificant to me until I came here and saw so many young men, some as big as bison.

“So that Brother Damien knows the downside—the sinful danger—of having such a large organ, you are to enter him, Andrew. In order to cure him of this disgusting fixation, you are to thrust yourself into him dry and without preparation. He must associate this god-awful lust of his with the excruciating pain of your large penis stabbing him—like a butcher knife—without mercy.”

“Brother Simon. I’m not a queer. I can’t do that,” Andrew shouted. The words were barely out of his mouth when the whip crashed across his cock head and caused his circumcision scar to bleed just as it had when the knife was first taken to it. Andrew bolted to his knees and bent low with pain, his lips inches from the feet of his superior.

“Andrew, I do not care whether you are gay, straight, animal, mineral or vegetable. You are to do exactly as you are told. Do I make myself clear?” With those words, the multiple tailed whip striped Andrew’s bare back a half dozen times in rapid succession leaving visible red marks.

The young man cried, like a boy, begging for mercy, promising to keep his vows of submission and obedience.

I stood there watching this sadistic ritual of religious heritage, torn between wanting Andrew’s shaft to be a part of me, and terrified of the unbearable pain Brother

Simon predicted.

“Now you, Damien, bend over and grab your ankles.” Instantly, I did as I was told, fearing the sting of the whip. “Now waddle forward so your shoulders are against the wall. You’re going to need all the support you can get,” Brother Simon sneered as he stepped out of my way. I complied instantly, but was not spared. The strap snapped across my bare butt three times, the pain biting harder with each stroke. How did I come to be here, in a place like this that was supposed to be one of peace and love, spiritually uplifting?

“Okay, Andrew. Do it. Teach this sinner the truth about the curse of being overly endowed.” His cock was still bleeding, and without a condom I suddenly found myself petrified. I knew we’d all been tested twice for HIV/Aids and that both tests had to come back negative before we were allowed in here. But still. A bleeding oversized penis penetrating my virgin anus had to be medically unsound. Besides, there are other STD’s besides HIV, I thought.

“OUCH! Oh my God,” I shouted as the nine inch shaft plowed into me without warning, without lube, without preparation, and without concern. “OH GOD, please,” I begged for mercy. “Brother Simon, please make him stop.” Andrew’s blood began to act as a lubricant making the sliding motion slightly less abrasive. But still there was a burning level of raw friction.

Andrew was crying out loud as well, the pain for him on his recently butchered

unit was excruciating.

“He will stop when I order him too,” Brother Simon said, “…but not until then.

This is a lesson I want you both to remember for a long time to come.” Andrew’s penis

was massaging my prostate and the sensation became a mixture of pain and pleasure. My cock which has gone limp for a short time was rock hard again. I wondered how Andrew remained hard through this, not attracted to men, and in horrible pain himself. I could feel his pace quicken, his breathing, his urgency. Just as he was about to explode, Brother Simon ordered him to stop and withdraw. When he didn’t responded immediately, the whip came crashing down on his back and butt until he did.

Both of us were left on the very verge, but denied the release that might have made the ordeal…digestible? Is that the word I want?

“No matter how painful, it is far better that you be punished by me than the Almighty,” Simon smiled.

“Both of you, go to your bunks, and do not dare touch yourselves, am I clear,” Brother-superior shouted. “Am I clear? Answer me you miserable sinners!”

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered.

“Yes, Brother Simon,” Andrew echoed.

“You will remain uncovered until your male junk totally subsides. If I should enter your cells and find you aroused again—or, God forbid, traces of semen—you will be taken to the detention center for some serious and painful punishment. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Andrew replied quickly. I had heard he’d been brought there one or twice before and brutalized both times. Rumors circulated that that’s where Andrew had been ceremoniously circumcised while hanging from a cross and later threatened with castration by the Abbot himself.

“Yes, Brother,” I said prostrating my naked body on the thin foam rubber cover of

my concrete bunk. I watched Andrew depart.

Simon took the handle end of his riding crop and lifted my semi-flaccid penis. It was the first time I noticed it. It was carved in the shape of a 12-inch penis, looking for all the world to be circumcised. A closer look convinced me the image was of the foreskin pulled back and the frenulum fully in place. Starring at me like a mountain lion he placed the wooden handle under my cock and flipped it, causing it to bounce: “Don’t you ever let me catch you,” he sneered. Andrew turned and left the room, his waist-tied rosary beads banging against the door jam. A few minutes later I heard him in another cell, two or three doors down the corridor. “On your knees, sinner” he hollered.

The next morning when every one had left the gang shower except Andrew and me, we dared to look at each other: eyes, cocks, butts…and eyes again. We had been among the last to find vacant shower heads. Neither of us smiled but I could feel a palpable bond between us.

“Are you okay, Damien?” he finally asked, a gentleness in his voice I’d not heard before.

“Sore. How about you?”

“My cock hurts some bad, let me tell you. That’s one tight asshole you have.”

We both smiled and continued to rinse the soap from our bodies.

“We need to get the fuck out of here, Damien,” he whispered just loud enough that I could hear him over the freezing-cold running-water that dribbled out of the two shower heads.

“How? Where will be go?”

“I don’t know, but we need to think about it. This brutality is not going to stop,

and there is no way guys our age are going to prevent nocturnal erections one-hundred percent of the time.”

Andrew’s eye peered at my midsection as I peeled my skin to rinse myself completely. “I remember being able to do that,” he grimaced.

           

Later that afternoon, I found myself walking along a path in a grove of conifers between the monastery and The Big Sioux River, thinking about Andrew’s suggestion that we bolt. I was wearing what we euphemistically called our UPS brown wool habit—and as usual—nothing else but sandals. Looking around, I was sure I was alone. I lifted my robe and peed against a large pine tree.

“You just can’t keep your hands off that thing, can you, Damien?” I heard this voice say from somewhere to my right. I dropped the skirts of my robe, frightened it was

Brother Simon, but looking around, I saw no one. I took a few steps toward where the voice originated, but saw nothing. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. My heart stopped.

I turned.

Andrew was smiling.

“Gotcha!” he chuckled.

“Yeah you did,” I sighed feeling the tension float away. He put his hand on my

back. “Sorry, Damien. I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay, man. Glad to see you,” I said placing my hand on his elbow and giving it a squeeze.

“We need outta here, Damien. When a guy can’t even piss in the woods without

the fear of brutal reprisals, you know we’re in a bad place.”

“Have you spoken to anyone else about this?” I asked.

“Hell no! You’re the only one I trust, especially after last night. Sorry I hurt you.”

“Is your cock okay this afternoon?”

“No. Not exactly. It still bleeds occasionally. I’ve wrapped a hankie around it to soak up the excess blood when it does. But it is some soar, just like you are, I’m sure.” We were walking along the river bank. Andrew occasionally reached down to snatch a stone or rock to toss into the water. I was impressed by his throwing arm.

“We’ll need to latch onto some money if we’re gonna leave this place,” I said.

“I can get a few hundred from my folks if I can find a phone and a Western Union office.”

“Me too, I’m sure,” I echoed. “If we walk away dressed like this—and I don’t know what else we’d wear—we’ll need to buy some clothes first off.”

“Yeah, for sure. Nobody’s gonna hire guys wearing this stuff,” Andrew smiled spreading his open palms down the front of his cassock. He picked up a baseball size rock and pitched it into the middle of the fast moving current.

“I have a friend who lives in this neck of the woods somewhere—a guy I grew up with,” I said. “If he can’t put us up, maybe he can tell us where we can find a cheap place to stay for a while?”

“How far away is he?”

“Not sure. I’ve never figured out where Sioux Falls is from here.”

“We’re north, a little,” Andrew said. “About ten to fifteen-miles, I think. We

can walk it in four or five hours, faster if we had something besides these flimsy

sandals.”

The clarion chimed, telling the community it was time for the evening meal. We hiked back up the hill past the edge of the woods onto the manicured lawn that surrounded the Monastery. “Let’s meet after Mass tomorrow morning, but we’d best not sit together tonight,” Andrew said. “I don’t want Simple Simon to get any big ideas.”

After dinner and vespers I went to bed, tired from last night’s lack of sleep and a butthole that refused to chill. Sometime in the middle of the night I heard my door open, and felt the cool air on my body after the covers were pulled down to my knees. Mercifully, I did not have a hard-on, not even a trace, it having subsided about twenty-minutes earlier. Simon covered me up and left, but, minutes later I heard him getting on someone else’s case. I hoped it wasn’t Andrew’s.

In the predawn hours, I again stood stark naked outside the showers, waiting for a free space. The white and black tiled room could only accommodate a dozen at a time. Andrew was standing directly in front of me, gently soaping his privates, motivating his cock to grow, but still officially flaccid. That provocative action caused blood to rush into mine. He smiled, apparently knowing what he was doing to me. I looked away, at some of the others, each of these young men a sculptured work of beauty.

Standing there, fully aware of my responses to the visuals before me, I confessed to myself, for the first time, and without equivocation, that I was queer. The shocking reality just plunked itself down inside my skull, and I did not try to disavow it—not this time. Strange! I was stunned and yet calm, accepting it placidly, not feeling as horrid as the priests had warned. I had fought the notion for years, having worked myself squarely into denial. Now, Andrew and his shower mates, without laying a hand on me, or saying a word, unwittingly extricated me from my safe mental haven and dropped me squarely into the world of the Roman Catholic damned.

Andrew grabbed his towel, snapped my ass with it on his way out while using his other arm to invite me to take his place in the shower. We had not set a time or place to meet, so I had breakfast with the seventeen year old Simon had chastened last night. Cody told me what had happened to him in the middle of the night, and how fearful he was of it getting worse. He had been forced to suck the seed out of Simon as I had been, and had been beaten savagely about his back and butt, on his cock and balls. He knew, from having listened the night before, that I had suffered a similar fate and wondered what could be done about it.

“Pray,” I said. “Prayer is our only hope,” I told him, not wanting to share the embryonic idea Andrew and I were developing. With my dishes bussed, I made my way through the woods down to the river bank.

As I was rethinking my conversation with Cody, I heard footsteps mashing the fallen autumn leaves. I was afraid to turn around, but I hoped it was Andrew.

It was. “How did you fair last night?” He asked.

“Except for getting my sore butt snapped with a wet towel this morning, okay,” I smiled.

“Me too, but I still want outta here, Damien. This is bad business.”

I told him of Cody’s experience last night, but that I didn’t want to enlarge our club beyond the two of us. He didn’t either.

“We don’t own anything. We have no personal possessions inside the building except for our moneyless wallets and ID’s, and they are hanging on to them,” he pointed up the hill in the direction of the main building. The trees and topography prevented us from seeing the castle like structure from where we stood. “If we follow this river down steam, it will take us closer to Sioux Falls. At some point after we’re off church grounds, it will undoubtedly cross a highway, and from there we might be able to hitch a ride to the city.

“You mean you wanna go now?” I asked.

“It’s Sunday. We won’t be missed as fast as we would on a weekday when we’re expected to be in one class or another.”

“Lead the way, Andrew.” The words left my mouth before I knew what I’d said. I questioned our judgment, but understood we had no other viable option.

“Call me Drew,” will ya?”

Step by step along the rocky and tree lined shore we increased our space away from the Monastery and closer to the state’s biggest city. It was a sunny day with little wind, at least little here in the lowest part of the tree lined valley. Some of the hike was easy, like strolling on a sidewalk. Other places it was harder. Climbing over fallen trees while wearing a cassock is dicey, especially if the tree to too low to crawl under or too high to simply step over. In some places we walked on sand, others on stones and in yet others over large rocks. Constantly we were stopping to shake pebbles out of our sandals, but we continued to make progress. By the time we heard traffic noises, the sun was high

in the sky, telling us it was near noon, plus or minus.

Using cupped hands, we quenched our thrust from the cold running waters. Once

Andrew stopped, lifted his robe and took a leak. He turned to show me the wound on his cock while he examined it to see if there had been more bleeding.

“Some,” he said. “Not as much as yesterday or the day they circumcised me.”

“They did that to you in the detention center, didn’t they?” I asked.

“Hung me from a cross, and cut me freehand with no anesthetics. They gave me a vitamin K pill a couple of hours earlier to help with the clotting, said a bunch of prayers over me while one of them soaped me up real good. Then they filled my mouth with dry gauze and took a scalpel to it. I’ve never felt such pain, Damien. Never, especially when he excised my frenulum.”

“Tell me about it later, Drew.” I said feeling sick to my stomach, knowing if we were caught escaping it would surely happen to me. We climbed up the forty to fifty foot hill near the bridge that took a superhighway perpendicular to the Big Sioux. Looking west, we realized we had reached I-90, the main road from Boston to Seattle and a sign pointing to the intersection for the north-south highway, I-29. Looking to our left we saw another sign for the airport and an urban street called North Cliff Avenue. We headed that way, east, sure we’d find telephones inside the aerodrome.

Drew pointed to a jet on final approach to Joe Foss field’s runway 15.

Another hour and a half of hiking and we made our way into the passenger terminal building near the United Airlines ticket counter and found a bank of payphones. Drew called his father. I dialed my mother. Without getting graphic, I explained that I had left the Order, left by simply walking away with a friend who had also been abused, “…even worse than me.” I explained where we were and how we got there and what we were wearing. Without me asking, she offered to send $500 “right away.” Andrew’s father did the same. Suddenly we felt rich. A TSA officer told us of a Western Union outlet just outside the airport perimeter, on Route 115, the East Benson Road.

Drew and I walked over—another forty-minutes. My feet were sore but walking on pavement was easier than hiking over cold water and hard rock. The long distance call was made collect without need of money. Local calls required coin, so I had to wait until some money arrived before I called my friend. We were told it would be at least two hours until any authorization showed up on their computer and that assumed the funds were sent by the time we found the WU counter. The other problem we had was a total lack of identification. Our wallets, with drivers’ licenses and social security cards, were locked up inside the monastery.

Mercifully, the clerk did not ask for ID. Instead, he did ask each of us two personal questions: Mother’s maiden name and my city of birth. For Drew, it was his dog’s name and his father’s birthday. A few minutes later he returned and counted twenty-five $20 bills for each of us. I had worried that we’d be handed a check and unable to cash it without proper identification. We inquired about a shopping mall. He called a cab and while we waited and I called Kip, a guy who’d been a good neighbor buddy when we both lived back east. His mother answered, please to hear my voice. She told me Kip had his own place now, and gave me his cell phone number. By then a cab had made its over from the airport and the driver suggested the Empire Mall at I-29 and 41st. Dressed as we were, we continued to draw attention to ourselves as people looked at us, wondering from which dark age century we had escaped.

Just inside the main entrance, there was an island of pay phones and I dialed Kip again, successful on the second ring. He was jubilant to learn I was in Sioux Falls and asked when we could get together.

“You stay put, Brother Damien,” he chuckled after I told him our circumstances.

“I’ll be right there: fifteen-minutes—twenty—tops.”

I waited by the door while Andrew scoped-out the place looking for a clothing store. Actually, we wanted a K-Mart or something equally low end. We needed underwear and slacks, shoes and socks, shirts, handkerchiefs and jackets. Before Drew returned, Kip pounded through the big glass doors, arms wide open, a smile on his face—one bigger than Bolivia. He hugged me like I was his teddy bear, not letting go for well over a minute.

“I take it you know this guy and he’s not just mugging you,” Drew smiled tapping me on my shoulder. I introduced him and Kip. Walking in the middle, Kip put his arms around both of us and chaperoned us into a nearby eatery. “It’s on me,” he said.

“Kip, you don’t have to,” I protested unconvincingly.

“Brother Damien. Shut up. It’s my pleasure. You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you again—especially dressed like you are. Keep wearing that stuff, will ya. I’m sure it’ll become all the rage. Can you get those dresses in different colors?”

“What has it been, Kip? Three years, four?” I had forgotten how tight we’ve been as boys, but obviously he remembered well.

“Too fucking long. Where are you guys staying anyway?” he asked the sixty-four-dollar question.

“We were hoping you could direct us to something clean and cheap,” I answered.

“I can do that,” he said as the waiter pulled up along side our booth. “Order whatever you want. You dudes have gotta be starved after that march down here.

“So besides clothing, you guys have other issues, too, I bet. No ID, no jobs, no knowledge of the local area, no references—and damned little money, especially after

you’re done acquiring some threads.”

“So, you still glad to see us?” I asked realizing how astute Kip had become in the years since we’d ridden our bikes back and forth to school and played everything with each other; everything from baseball to doctor.

“Yes! Yes, I am Damien. And since you two don’t have any identification, you’re not gonna be staying in any South Dakota motel, so you’ll just have to stay with us. There’s a spare bedroom, but you guys are gonna have to bunk together. It’s a queen size, so you won’t be all over each other. Unless you wanna be?” He laughed and I suddenly felt nervous.

“Stay with US? You said?” I cocked my head and looked at him. “Are you

married, now?”

“Nooo!” He stopped and looked back and forth at us.

“I could tell you I have a roommate, Damien, but as kids we could never lie to each other. You remember the oaths we took down at the lake?” He paused to see if my recollection kicked in.

It did.

“I have a lover, a partner, and he makes me very very happy.”

I let out a long captured blast of carbon dioxide and smiled.

“Really?” I heard myself say. “Congratulations, Kip. I think we always wondered about each other during our teen years. When did you come out?”

“Shortly after we moved here. I met Chase at the gym, in the exercise room, on side-by-side treadmills. Before we finished our cool-downs we decided to go out for pizza and a beer of all things—and, as they say, the rest is history.

“You, Damien. What did you finally decide?”

I looked over at Drew who was starring at me with a fearsome intensity.

I’m sure my hesitation answered Kip’s question, but I turned to him and looked deeply into his piercing blue eyes. “I came to the conclusion this morning that I’m queer, Kip. I’ve been in denial, for God—and you—know how long, but watching this guy,” I elbowed Drew, “and the others shower, I realized how attracted I was to what I saw. I just couldn’t deny it any more—even to myself.”

“And you, Drew?” Kip asked as if he had a judicial right to know.

“Hmm,” he said looking at me. “Here I am, the straight guy, and I’m the one in the minority.”

“Deal with it,” Kip smiled brilliantly. “You gonna be okay sleeping with this faggot, or do I have to pull out our sofa bed?”

“We’ll give it a try, but if you hear me yelling rape…..”

“You’ll be on your own, Drew. Sorry ‘bout that ole boy,” Kip grinned again.

Drew smiled and through up his hands in mock surrender.

I felt a certain calm flow though me. The ability to fess-up to myself and now to both of these guys was an immense relief. The way Kip was able to maneuver this delicate subject into a casual friendly conversation created a comfort about life. Now, my only worry was sleeping with Drew. What kind of discipline, self-control, was that going to require? At least Simon would not be barging in to monitor us.

After eating and shopping, Kip drove us to his place, a large ranch style home between Sioux Falls and the Minnesota border on five-acres of very flat land. “I’d carry your luggage in, but you guys don’t have any.” We walked past the kitchen, a huge masterpiece of efficiency and beauty. The next room was the guest bedroom. “Make yourselves at home, gentlemen.”

“Kip you’re a godsend,” I reached out to shake his hand. He brushed it away, hugged me and planted a kiss—a quick beck—on my mouth.

“I’ll shake Drew’s hand since he’s straight and we don’t know each other so well—yet.”

After the bedroom door was closed, Andrew smiled and opened his arms. We hugged for a minute while he told me how thankful he was Kip was so hospitable.

“Yeah, especially since we managed to drop half our fortune on shoes and fiber.”

We shed our brown wool robes and stood naked when there was a knock on the door. “It’s me,” Kip said. Andrew turned his back while I opened the portal. Kip handed me a pair of scissors saying we’d need them in order to get the tags off our new threads. He looked me up and down.

“You look as great as ever, Damien,” he smiled, and snapped the scissors open and closed—as he rolled my foreskin between his thumb and index finger.

“Don’t even think it,” I said, taking the scissor from him and pasting a kiss on his cheek. Chuckling, he closed the door and left.

“You two do know each other rather well,” Drew said turning toward me, his cock still wrapped in a hankie like a hot dog in a roll.

“How’s that thing doing?” I asked looking at him undo the white clothe.

“Good thing I had this for our long walk,” he held up the blood soaked handkerchief. It would have been rawer than uncooked hamburger if that wool robe had been rubbing up against it all that time.”

I walked over to look at it. The scar had only half healed. There was still black and blue swelling and droplets of blood were plainly visible all around his giant unit.

“Even with underwear, I’d keep that monster-meat of yours wrapped-up,” I suggested turning to get dressed.

We walked into the living room. Kip’s “roommate” stood and introduced himself. “I’m Chase, Kip’s better-half,” he smiled beautifully. He was classic: tall, dark, handsome, hairy, a stomach slate flat, and from the outline of his package under his Speedos—hung.

“Glad you guys are staying with us,” he said taking turns shaking our hands. “Kip tells me great things about you, Damien.”

“Well, I’d like to hear all about that some time,” I replied as Kip bounced in from the kitchen.

“I see you’ve met the old, ugly, one of the family,” Kip glanced, grinning from me to Drew to Chase. Chase was probably four years older than Kip who was almost two years older than me.

“Nice catch, Kip,” I said.

“You guys are to make yourself at home. For some reason, we have three vehicles here so we can offer you use of the Acadia,” Chase said.

“Acadia?” Drew asked. “That a GMC SUV isn’t it; a rich guy’s overland boat. But, I suppose one needs a driver’s license even here in South Dakota?”

“Job hunting is the only real need we’ll have for wheels,” I replied.

“It’s up to you guys, but you might not have to do any job hunting,” Kip furrowed his forehead.

“And how’s that?” I asked. “You gonna keep us as hostages—your domestic

slaves?”

“Not the worst idea you’ve ever had, Damien, but we’ve got a few decent paying positions open at our little company that you dudes might want to consider.”

“Really,” Drew said smiling. “What kinda business do you guys have?

“Let’s sit down and we’ll lay it all out of you.”

Kip and Chase told us of their medical supply business where they acquired and warehoused thousands of different clinical and hospital products so they could ship them to customers on a moments notice. “We buy and sell everything from johnnies and surgical caps to scalpels and hot water bottles, and from bed pans to beds,” Chase said.

“We even sell circumcision clamps, Damien,” Kip said looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “We can supply you with the Gomco Clamp, the Smartklamp, the

Mogen or the Tara KLamp. Your choice, Damien, my dear friend.”

“Don’t listen to him, Damien. Kip is on my case, too—all the time, but the truth is he really loves it,” Chase winked.

“Do you have anything for sore feet,” I countered. Kip had teased me for years about my foreskin, and I had reciprocated poking fun at what I called his mutilated, abbreviated unit.

“Managing inventory, packaging and shipping, purchasing and accounting,

personnel and building maintenance are all people driven,” Kip changed the subject. “We deal with a lot of money and lots of fine fine clients so we need really dedicated people who are customer driven and good at heart; I mean people who understand that timeliness is everything in our business and in the lives of their patients.”

“How long have you boys been doing this?” I asked.

“We start our second year next month,” Chase answered looking at my partner.

“But, I have to tell you Drew, you’d be our token straight guy.”

“Swell,” Drew said. “So, I suppose my virginity will be a risk?” I knew he was joking.

“Only if you put it at risk,” Kip said. “We run a very legitimate business here, not a whore house. But, South Dakota does not have a sexual orientation rights law, so we can discriminate against self-righteous heteros all we want—and believe me we do. You’d be our first traditional staff member, Drew. One out of twenty-eight. Well, one out of thirty, if you two sign on with us.”

“Do you have any specific jobs in mind for us,” I asked.

“When we knew each other in our previous lives, you were into computers and numbers. We need someone to handle payables, receivables, cash receipts, cash disbursements and payroll. Drew, you’ve got to tell me where your interests lie, assuming I haven’t dissuaded you from considering us.”

“If I can sleep with this guy,” he pointed to me, “I’m sure I can work with you all, if you’ll have me? I’m handy with tools and I like building and fixing things, so if you’ve got something to do with building and grounds I’d love to hear about it. I’m no good at fixing vehicles though, but I’m sure I could learn,” Drew looked from Kip to Chase.

“It’s a three man department and the guy I’ve got heading it up now is really great, but he’s leaving to move back east in a few weeks. The other two are good guys but not department head material—at least not yet. So maybe you could be our BMOC in that arena?”

“Would the other two work for a straight guy?” Drew asked.

“Yes, but the only way they’d know of your baby-making orientation is if you tell

‘em,” Kip said. “We won’t make you to wear a T-shirt proclaiming your inferiority.” We

laughed.

“Look, why don’t we take you guys over the shop tomorrow, show you around, have you meet the group, and see what you think?” Chase suggested.

“Sounds good,” I replied looking at Drew. “And thank you for considering us.”

We watched TV for a couple of hours, chatting during the commercial breaks. Kip and Chase were cuddled on the sofa together while Drew and I sat comfortably in cushy chairs at opposite ends of the beautifully decorated room drinking their fine wine.

“Would you be offended if I went to bed? It’s been a tough day, physically and emotionally,” I said.

“Let me get some towels and things for you two,” Kip offered. The bath was off our bedroom negating the need to leave the room during the night.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind crawling under the covers, either,” Drew said after Kip showed us how the shower worked with its sexy brass and gold fixture. Chase came in with towels and soap, packaged tooth brushes, and a basket filled with toiletries and cosmetics, scents and an unopened roll of TP. He held up a jar of medicated cream. “You might want to rub this on your feet after that long walk in those stupid sandals,” he suggested.

Kip gave me a kiss on the cheek, and so did Chase. I thanked them for their hospitality. Drew shook hands with them both, expressing his gratitude as well.

“Nice people,” Drew said after they left. He sat down on the bed to take off his

shoes and socks. “I wonder if I can rub some of that cream on my dick,” he said sliding his pants and underpants down in a single movement. He removed the blood stained handkerchief from his flaccid penis and I could see how raw and sore tissue that was behind his corona. By this time, I’d folded my new garments and laid them on the chair and stood there before him—naked.

“It doesn’t say. Just don’t get any in your eyes,” I scanned the instructions. “Tell me Drew, how did they do that to you?”

“Free hand. I told you they hung me from a cross with leather straps.” He reached over and took my cock in his hand, stretching my foreskin. “He used a scalpel, forceps, and a four and one-half inch pair of Iris scissors. The bastard cut the top of my skin from the tip back toward my pubes a good two-inches. He called that a dorsal cut.” Drew illustrated with his longer finger going into the hole of my stretched skin and moving his fingers together and apart and together again, imitating scissors. “He then cut around on one side to the back of my cock and then the other side.” He ran his finger around the supple flesh in one direction and then the other. “After that, the agony really began when he cut my frenulum, that sweet spot that’s filled with nerve endings—or was.” Drew slid my foreskin back all the way, exposing my head and lifted my cock up so we could both view the ligament that connects the foreskin to that little valley on the backside of the cock head. Using his scissors motion again, he pretended to snip it. He fingered it in a circular motion—to illustrate how sensitive it was. As if I didn’t know.

He continued that movement, explaining about the sutures the circumciser applied after the cutting was done to bring the two folds of remaining skin together. “Normally they use four stitches ninety-degrees apart, but since mine was so big, he put in six at sixty-degree angles. They were the self-dissolving kind, catgut, or something.” He paused and looked closely at my cock. “This is making you hard,” he said slapping it sternly as a

way to remove his hand, remaining me of Brother Simon.

“Yeah. I’m kinda unaccustomed to having some heavy hung naked guy manhandle me that way.” I said as my cock got even harder and started to throb in front of him. His giant dick remained soft though it seemed a little inflated as compared to when he first shed his pants.

“Why don’t you go in the bathroom and take care of that,” Drew said mater-of-factly. “I’m gonna try a little of this cream.”

“You want me to do it for you?” I smiled, joking.

“If you want to,” Drew surprised me, flattening himself in the middle of the bed.

I unscrewed the top of the jar, put it down and decided to wash my hands. I fingered a small amount of the white pasty cream and began applying it gently.

“Tell me Drew. That night Simon made you fuck me, had all the stitches dissolved?”

“No. He’d come and exam me every night to see how the healing was progressing. At least that’s the reason Simon gave.”

“How did you get it up and stay so hard?” I asked applying the cream as gently as I could.

“This’ll sound weird,” he said. “But the whipping he gave my cock, it was just snappy enough to simulate it. Even though I’d been recently circumcised, the belt to my totally exposed head was some kind of a really weird turn-on. Besides, my head was super sensitive. Still is!”

“Really?” I asked applying another small amount of the cream hoping it would not create any negative reaction.

“That feels good,” he said. “Kinda numbing and soothing. You can use more if you want.” I covered the scarred area with a thick coat of the white paste like cream, and watched his giant cock react ever so slightly.

“Would you take a belt to the head of my cock?” I asked putting the lid back on the jar. “I’d like to know what it feels like.” I was lying. From my encounters with

Brother Simon, I knew exactly what it felt like, and I was fairly certain Drew recognized that, too.

“I suppose. If you want me to. I think I’ll need to gag you though so you don’t make noises that’ll cause Kip and Chase to wonder what’s goin’ on.”

I got up, took the leather belt out of my pants and got a sock out of the drawer and handed it to him.

“Lay down,” he said, his cock reacting yet a little more.

He peeled my foreskin and stuffed the sock in my mouth. With the tip of the belt, the last four inches or so, he snapped it against the head of my hardened rod, causing me to jolt and groan. “You like that, don’t you?” Drew asked as the strap stroked me again.

“Yes. Wow. I can see why you stiffened up the way you did.”

The belt struck me two more times and I could feel my scrotum begin to stir. I lifted my head off the pillow to see he was holding the base of my cock in one hand so he could position it for the strapping while keeping my foreskin withdrawn at the same time.

I also noticed Drew was rock hard.

“That’s beautiful,” I whispered as the belt smacked against my flesh again and

again.

“What? What’s beautiful?” he asked. “Your punishment?”

“Yeah. That, and your cock,” I said reaching down to fist his shaft without

touching his scar. It throbbed in my hand as soon as I touched it and I could tell he was thrilled.

“Gay boys need to be punished,” he whispered as the belt slammed a little harder on my cock head, and I exploded. He pulled my foreskin forward to capture as much of my spunk as he could. I reached over my head for the box of tissues and began soaking up my mess, cum keep in storage for months and months; the time I was forbidden from touching myself and forbidden release, though driven to the edge several times.

“Would you like me to reciprocate—to get you off, now?” I asked. “I can do it very gently so we don’t aggravate your wound.”

“You can try it if you want to…,” Drew replied, “…but this is the one and only time you and I are going to be involved like this. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I answered, using one hand to massage his balls and the other to softly stroke the lower half of his nine-inch cock. He began to groan and then to writhe. I increased my fondling ever so slightly. “You like punishing gay boys, don’t you Drew? Taking the strap to their sinful cocks?”

“OH—OH,” he said working to keep his voice down. “OH my God,” he cried as his semen spurted out of his meatus. With my lips engulfing the top half of his purple head, I absorbed every drop as it left his throbbing penis so it did not come in contact with his cream covered sore.

“OH,” he said once more and laid there, still and silent, for the longest time.

I blotted the last appearing drops of semen with the tissue, holding his shrinking scrotum in my other hand.

“Damien, you’re not going to mention this to anyone, are you?”

“I’m gonna tell everyone I meet how much you liked it,” I teased.

“I liked it more than I thought it would, but please. I’m feeling…. Well, I’m not sure how I’m feeling right now. But, I’d appreciate it if this, and what happened back in the monastery, could be just between us.”

“Count on it, Drew. What happens in South Dakota stays in South Dakota.” I kissed his forehead. He slid over to made room. We crawled under the covers, his wounded and softened penis wrapped in his hankie again.

“Like I said, Damien. This is not going to happen again. It was a one time deal just because of what came raining down on us in the last few days. Understood?”

“Yes, Drew. I understand. But thank you for sharing tonight. It meant a lot to me.”

Lying there, I thought about the extraordinary relationship Kip and Chase had created from the ashes of society and realized that it could be have been Kip and me if I hadn’t tried to bury myself—and my desires—in a monastery.

With sexual release behind me, the fear of being unable to control myself evaporated and I relaxed in the most comfortable of beds. I dosed off, but found myself in a dream about Drew. Somehow we had truly fallen in love, much like Kip and Chase, and the comfort we provided each other grew on many levels: mental and emotional, financial and psychological, physical and sexual. The mutual dependence, in my dream, had become the apex of our lives. At some point I knew it was a dream, but I did not

want to wake up. I did not want it to end, even though I knew I had to dial it down.

When I awoke—I don’t know what time it was, Drew had intertwined our fingers, giving them a squeeze.

“Thank you, Damien,” he whispered. “You are one very special guy.”

I rolled on my side to face him, surprised that he did the same. As if by some celestial switch we were suddenly in each other’s arm, bound tightly by biceps and triceps as the air from two sets of lungs made a noisy hasty escape.

Neither of us said another word, but the feeling—for me—of safety and security consumed me, coming at a time when it was so needed.

“Thank you, again, Drew,” I whispered. “You feel good. Very very good.”

“So do you, Damien.”

Not being aware I was doing it, my lips brushed against his. His big hand was behind my head, pushing my face into his.

Less than a minute later, I felt his warm tongue exploring my palate and his massive unit stabbing mine. I could feel him getting harder with each heartbeat.

“Are you sure you want to be doing this?” I asked when his mouth allowed mine sufficient freedom to speak.

“Right this minute,” he paused. “It’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Really, Damien! All of a sudden, I’m very very sure,” and he hugged me tighter, exactly as he had done in my dream.