After vespers, confession. Always. Every night, confession. And in that confession box the novice laid bare his soul. Each fall when the new recruits arrived the experienced confessors worked the fresh stream like fly fishermen in a spring brook.

“I have sinned against my own flesh” whispered the voice. It was an opening not to be forgone.

“And how has that happened?” replied the disembodied voice softly from the dark side of the box.

“I indulged my fleshly lust in my cell last night before sleeping,” came the reply.

“A common enough weakness, brother, and easily taken by Satan to his advantage.”
Of the three sine qua non–poverty, obedience, chastity–it was the latter two that proved the bane of most novices.

“I repent of my sin and desire expiation.”

“Did you do this alone? Or . . . was another present and participating in this debauchery?” The old confessor knew from experience the questions to ask.

“There . . . there . . . there was another,” the novice confessed rather reluctantly. He hardly wanted to draw another into this. “It was my own fault, not another's. I bear the guilt for both of us.”

“Indulgence of the flesh may be expiated by mortification of the flesh,” the confessor replied. “Come to the office of the sanctuary sacristy tonight at 8:00 pm. And you will bring your accomplice to make his own confession. We shall undertake a remedy of mortification at that time and you both will remain up till morning prayers doing penance in the kitchen tonight. Anything else you need to confess?”

Silence.

“If not, you are dismissed.”

This was not the first time this novice had confessed his inability to contain his libido, and, thought the wise confessor, it likely would not be his last. He saw too much of himself in this young novice. And, he knew, he still had not stifled his own lustful desires and acts despite twenty years of trying. Already he had begun to think past the coming vespers and felt the stirring in his own flesh. He would likely be making his own confession in due time to the oblate and that was yet another complication he tried to push away from the lust always treading at the edges of his mind.

Sitting in the sacristy office, the old monk pulled down a well worn copy of the Rules of the Community and began to read. “Listen carefully, my son, to the master's instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart. This is advice from a father who loves you; welcome it, and faithfully put it into practice.” So began the slim volume; then, before moving to the meat of the rules a knock on the door interrupted Brother Caleb's reading.

“Enter.” The old monk laid his copy of the rules aside and looked up to see the two novices timidly enter, close the thick oak door, and stand before the desk, eyes to the marble floor. Heavy dark brown robes flowed to mid-calf, sandals insulated their feet from the cold marble below, hoods covered the shaved heads.

The monk turned the Rules of the Order round and slowly pushed it across the desk. “Remember this?” he asked softly. “I believe you both have memorized it and taken your preliminary vows to live in poverty, to obey, and to live in chastity. It seems you are able to keep the first vow since you have no choice; the latter two, unfortunately, seem to be a recurring problem for you. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”

The two novices remained standing before the desk, eyes cast down, faces partially hidden by the cowls on the robes. Their silence provided no defense; they were now at the mercy of the court and in this court they knew there would be swift and certain punishment with precious little mercy.

“There is more,” the old monk continued. “Brother Gabriel has complained about both of you lacking a true spirit of humility and obedience. Seems you like to make smart remarks sotto voce when asked to do some of the menial jobs that are yours to accomplish. Brother Gabriel is not the only one to complain. So we shall deal here with more than a bit of randy boy time together, though that alone will earn you a punishment you will remember the next time temptation comes calling. You both need to learn not only self-control of your sexual urges; you need to learn humility and obedience as well. And I will be your instructor in these virtues. You will begin by removing your robes, putting them on the hooks by the door, remove your sandals as well and then stand before me as you came into this world.”

The two novices shed their robes, hung them on large wooden pegs by the door, put their sandals on the floor beneath the robes, then returned to stand before their instructor naked as the day they were born. Eyes once again caste down to the floor, arms at their sides, naked, and quivering a bit on the inside at what would soon be coming their way.

“Let us address the obedience and humility first. We will work on chastity later. Show me what the two of you did to assuage your lust last night.” Humiliation would set the foundation for an encounter with the novice master not soon to be forgotten.

Neither of the novices moved, neither had the courage to look up to meet the monk's eyes, neither said a word; both faces flushed a deep, convicting scarlet.

“I see. Is there something about the word obey that you do not understand? Or are you so modest suddenly that you have lost your ability to pleasure one another? Let me see if I can motivate you to begin to obey when you are given an order. Novice Joseph, step forward, bend across the desk.”

Joseph did as ordered. He stepped forward, bent full across the big oak desk, spread his feet for balance, grabbed hold of he edge right under the old monk's gaze, and waited. He had been in this position before and knew well what was coming his way.

“A good beginning, Joseph.” The monk rose from his chair. “And you, Michael, will go over to the closet to the right of where your robes hang and bring me the leather strap hanging on the back of the closet door.”

Michael padded over to the closet, opened the dark oak door, and took the strap down from a peg near the top of the door. It was supple, thick, well worn, with a short wood handle, and about three feet in length. Michael could not help but notice a rattan cane hanging from a hook on the side of the closet. He handed the strap to the monk and resumed his spot standing on the cold marble facing the desk and saw Joseph splayed across the desk, his buttocks quivering in anticipation of a whipping. This was the third time since he took his preliminary vows in the fall that Joseph had found himself over the novice master's desk for a thrashing. It was the first time there would be a witness to his punishment.

The old monk raised the well oiled strap high over his shoulder and lashed it down hard across the young novice's buttocks. The loud crack of the strap on bared flesh echoed off the walls startling Michael. Joseph groaned but made no move to avoid a second, harder lash with the strap. Four more followed, each separated from the last to leave a dark purple stripe about an inch wide from hip to hip. Then the novice master returned to his chair and Joseph stood up next to Michael. Michael's penis had betrayed him, hardening to jut out fully stiff as the two stood, eyes down side by side.

“Let's start again. Time for you both to be humbled. Show me what the two of you were up to last night as you forsook your vow of chastity and sought to sate your lust with one another.”

Lesson learned from six wicked lashes with the strap, Joseph turned and wrapped his hand around Michael's erection and began to stroke it slowly. His own cock now began to rise to a regal eight inches and Michael returned Joseph's attention by taking Joseph's erection in hand and gently pumping it. As humiliating as this was both were still erotically engaged and soon enough the dewdrops began to appear at the tip of each as they masturbated each other. Joseph had his eyes on Michael's prize; Michael still had his eyes on that wicked strap lying on the desk. Neither was quite sure whether what was to come next.

“And then what happened?” the old monk inquired as he watched these two walking the fine line of being humiliated yet feeling that euphoria of sexual pleasure. He would have these two on their knees and pleading soon enough. But first this. He knew there was more to see, and now were both in obedience mode.

Michael turned to face Joseph and dropped to his knees to kneel on the hard, cold marble. He took Joseph's erection to his lips and wrapped his hands around Joseph's buttocks feeling both the heat and the thin welts from the six lashes with the strap. Soon enough Joseph yielded to Michael's lips and began to gently thrust forward, then gasped as Michael pulled back and let Joseph empty himself out onto the floor. For a long minute neither moved, Joseph standing there weak kneed, Michael kneeling below him. Now the humiliation of what they had just done began to flood within each. Revulsion brought a wave of nausea rising in Joseph's belly.

“Have you finished yet? Or is there more to what happened last night? I will have complete obedience from both of you.”

Michael rose from the floor, his cock still hard and dripping. Joseph returned to bend across the desk and Michael slid up behind him slipping his cock into the crack between Joseph's well whipped buttocks. And though he did not penetrate Joseph, Michael masturbated himself thrusting up and down in Joseph's crack till he shot his own cream out in full. Their shame now complete the two novices remained in place, heads bowed, silent before Brother Caleb.

The old monk stood, walked over to the bookshelves, and returned to his desk with a Bible. “Deuteronomy 25, verse two: 'If the wicked man be worthy to be beaten, . . . according to his fault . . . forty stripes he may be given and not exceed.” So each of you shall receive the Biblical standard of forty minus one, thirty-nine lashes. And each of you will report to the scullery after your punishment to volunteer to work through the night to help prepare tomorrow's meals. That should give you time to meditate on both your sins and your punishment. Joseph, you will remain across the desk and receive thirty-three remaining lashes. Michael, you will come round this side, take hold of Joseph's arms to hold him in place for his punishment.“

The time to mortify the flesh had arrived. Brother Caleb took the strap from the desk and traded places with Michael while Joseph still lay face down across the desk, Michael's white cream running from the top to the bottom of his crack. When Brother Caleb raised the strap to begin Joseph's punishment Michael closed his eyes and leaned down to pin Joseph's shoulders to the desk. The crack of the strap echoed again off the walls.

“Open your eyes, Michael. You need to see the results of your sin, my boy. And soon enough you will be trading places with your lover here and feel the effects yourself!”

Michael obeyed quickly and watched as the strap rose and fell and rose and fell another thirty times. Halfway through the whipping Brother Caleb changed sides and began again to lay the strap across Joseph's back as he worked his way down across the buttocks and finally across the upper thighs. Thirty-three times the strap slashed down leaving a dark red stripe and Joseph's groans had become stifled squeals of searing pain. It was, as Brother Caleb had warned, a whipping Joseph would remember the next time he was tempted to entice another novice to join him in lust.

“You may rise, Joseph, and trade places with your amicus.”

Slowly Joseph raised himself up, the searing heat of the thirty-nine stripes making each movement painful. As he moved round the desk and Michael took his place he could not help but notice Michael's cock had risen to full erection once again. Even the dread of what was to come apparently had not shocked his lust into submission. Michael stretched himself across the desk, Joseph pinned his shoulders down, and Brother Caleb began to lay on the thirty-nine stripes. It took less than the first dozen to have the novice pleading and wailing for mercy. None was forthcoming.

“You may rise now Michael,” Brother Caleb said as he handed the strap to Joseph. “And you may put this back on the hook.”

The two subdued novices stood before the big oak desk and felt the pain of the whipping with the strap continue to rise as they stood there.

“Now you will report to the kitchen and volunteer to work through the night till Matins. And you will put in a full day as usual in class, at work, and at services tomorrow. Pax Vobiscum.”

The two novices donned their robes and sandals and quickly retreated from the scene of their humiliation and mortification. Almost as soon as the door closed behind them Brother Caleb stood, his own robed tented out quite prominently, and left the sacristy office to seek out his own superior and confessor.

“Enter,” came the deep voice from within the oblate's richly appointed office. Brother Caleb entered, stood before the oblate's desk, then knelt.

“I have come to make my confession, Brother,” he said softly.

As Brother Caleb knelt on the cold marble before the desk the oblate rose, went to a closet, and returned with a rattan cane in hand. He laid the cane on the desk and again took his place in the deep leather covered chair behind it. Brother Caleb removed his robe, bowed till his forehead touched the marble, and began.

“I have sinned against my own flesh and others'” he intoned, “and desire to atone for my sin and to change my lust filled ways.”

The oblate picked up the cane and ran it through his hands as he listened to the same litany he had heard many times before. And he felt his own flesh begin to stir as he looked at the naked, kneeling monk who would soon enough be stretched over the desk for a flogging with the cane and a lesson in subservience after the punishment. Poverty they shared; obedience also; chastity would have to wait yet again.

Nota bene: sumus quod sumus.