Note

   This is a fragment of a story I'll be incorporating into a work in
progress.  At the moment I'm using it to sort out how to save and post to
the archives via email.  The public WiFi I was using now has the ASSTR site
blocked by filters.

   Disclaimer

   This is a work of fiction.  If you have trouble with the boundary
between fact and fantasy, don't read it.  If non-consensual sex between
adult men and a young boy freaks you out, don't read it.  Do not under any
circumstances forward this file to anyone that hasn't specifically
requested it.  In case you haven't figured it out yet this is intended as
*adult* entertainment.  Do not allow it to be accessed by minors.  If you
have inadvertently downloaded it in a jurisdiction where such material
isn't legal please delete it immediately.  Do not re-post in whole or in
part without this notice.  Do not repost on any "for profit" site without
my specific written permission.  Copyright 2011 by Lizard69.

   Caught (Mb) by Lizard69



   Father Lindquest checked his watch as he peeked out of the confessional.
There were only three people waiting and it was almost five o'clock so he
got up and threw the latch on the front door to lock behind those leaving
before he went back to hearing confessions.  He didn't inflict heavy
penance, and there wasn't any actual requirement to pray *here*, so it
didn't surprise him later when the click of the front door latch echoed
through the empty church as the final parishioner entered the other side of
the confessional.

   Normally he tried not to pay much attention to who was waiting but this
kid had caught his eye.  Red headed, maybe twelve or thirteen but so thin
he could be a couple of years younger.  Mostly though it was a blend of
fear and resignation that gave him an almost haunted look.  He listened as
the kid settled in waiting for the familiar formula he'd heard so many
times.  This time it was so different and at the same time so familiar he
couldn't have been more stunned if a gun went off.

   "Bless me father for I have dick breath and my asshole hurts.  My last
confession was before I started letting perverts fuck me.  I'd like to be
forgiven but I'll understand if that can't happen." The silence dragged out
until the kid spoke again.  "Father?  Are you there?  Did you hear me?"

   Peter Lindquest had heard many things in his years of listening to
confessions.  This was far from the first time the words of a penitent had
struck a chord with his own particular weakness.  Never before had he been
so tempted to act on what he heard.  "Gods' forgiveness is there for all
who ask my son.  Why would you think it might not be there for you"?

   "Partly because I'm not sure it was a sin or not my sin anyway.  The
first couple of times it happened I didn't have any choice.  This time was
different.  I knew he was going to do it to some kid.  I could have walked
away.  Then I thought about what it was like for me, the first time.  The
only way I could stop him from doing it to some other kid, maybe even a
really little kid, was to let him do it to me instead.  After we went
somewhere private, I found out the only way I could make myself go through
with it was to pretend that he'd beat me up and do it anyway if I didn't
let him.  So I guess he sort of forced me, but I went there knowing what
would happen and I didn't ask him to stop.

   "Maybe God could forgive that.  He probably forgives people for doing
worse stuff.  They told us in Sunday school that if you think about
something you did wrong, and you're sorry you did it, and you ask God to
forgive you, He will.  Even if you're weak and stupid and keep making the
same mistake over and over, as long you're sorry and want to do better He
will keep forgiving you.  But what if you're not sorry?  What if you think
about what you did and you know it's wrong, but instead of feeling sorry
your dick gets hard and all you can think about is doing it again?"

   "That is a problem my son.  No matter what penance I give you, without
remorse there is no absolution.  It isn't easy to confess these things. 
You must feel some remorse and want to return to a state of grace or you
wouldn't be here."

   "Yes Father, but...  The first time was the worst.  He caught me doing
something really terrible.  It doesn't matter what.  I don't do that
anymore.  Then he caught me jacking off.  Instead of making me stop he made
me cum, harder than I ever did before.  When he was done he told me to meet
him at this place I go when I want to be alone.  I laid in bed for hours
thinking about it.  There's no way I could actually go there.  I tried to
imagine what he might do and started to cry when I realized my cock was
hard as a rock.  I went there, and...  well...  it was worse than anything
I could imagine.  Since then he made me do it other places.  Now he's even
starting to make me do it with other perverts."

   "That's terrible!"

   "That isn't the worst.  I...  Uh...  I'm sort of starting to like it. 
I'm not a homo.  Doing it is really sick and creepy.  Some of it hurts. 
All of it is super embarrassing.  But...  it's still sex...  sort of.  I
cum harder than I do by myself.  Sometimes now when I'm jacking off I'm not
thinking about girls.  If anyone found out, well..., I probably wouldn't
die but living around here wouldn't be much fun anymore."

   "My son, listen very carefully.  I'm a priest.  I do the Lords work. 
That is my profession, my calling.  I'm also a man, as weak and sinful as
any other.  I cannot revile the men who have sexually abused you because I
share their affliction.  It is tempting, more tempting than you can
imagine, to offer you a path to absolution that starts with allowing me to
do things you'll regret.  No matter how great my personal failings I cannot
pervert my calling to that extent.  There is also no way I can grant
absolution for a sin you have not committed, or haven't committed yet.  If
you told me you intended to lie or steal something I couldn't absolve you
before the act.  If somebody forced you to lie or steal I couldn't absolve
you because without volition, without choice, there is no sin.  So, I'm
going to ask you to return at whatever time you feel remorse for an act you
have voluntarily committed."

   The boy was hardly three steps from the confessional when Father
Lindquest stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.  "I've already locked
the main door.  Come with me and I'll let you out the side."

   The steps leading down to that door were inside instead of outdoors like
the main entrance, and continued past the landing.  They went down another
flight, past the basement level before the boy asked what was going on. 
Only after pushing the kid into a boiler room and pulling the heavy fire
door closed behind them did the priest answer.

   "There's something here I think you'd like to see.  This church is old,
close to a century.  The boiler is gas fired now but when it was originally
installed it was coal fed.  On Sundays one of the deacons would stoke it.
During the week the altar boys took turns keeping it running just enough to
keep the pipes from freezing.  There's room on the right to walk around to
the back."

   Behind the boiler was a sort of shop area, dimly lit by a bulb on a cord
hanging from the ceiling.  The priest grabbed a heavy flashlight off the
workbench and pointed it at the back of the boiler.  At first all the boy
saw was a huge round plate, black and dusty.  Then he noticed that more
than half of it was covered with rows of short scratches about a quarter
inch long, mostly in groups of four with a diagonal strike through them. 
Spaced out at random spots were pairs of letters, like initials, breaking
up the rows of tally marks.

   "When I first saw this I thought it was a record left by the altar boys
who had stoked the boiler over the years.  Only if that was it there didn't
seem to be nearly enough initials or tally marks.  It was those initials
that gave me a clue.  See the KH right at the top?  Those are the initials
of the pastor of this congregation at the time the church was built.  The
others follow in sequence.  There are a few gaps but most of the priests
who have served here over the years left their mark.  The question is, why
here?  What were they counting that was important enough to keep track of
but only worth scratching on the back of the boiler?  Why wasn't there
something in the church register?"

   "I won't bore you with how long it took or the mountain of old records I
searched through.  I finally found the explanation in a letter of
resignation one of the grounds keepers submitted many years ago.  He said
he could tolerate and forgive priests for not being perfect although the
act he'd interrupted was the most disgusting thing it had ever been his
misfortune to witness.  Men of the cloth should be held to a higher
standard.  What he could not abide was having to work in a place they had
chosen to practice their wickedness, and being forbidden to paint over the
marks they'd made to commemorate their sins.  In his opinion the priest
involved should face legal as well as spiritual punishment for what he was
doing to that child.  Regardless, he was going to honor the boys request to
keep the incident confidential.  There was no reason to add public
humiliation to what he had already suffered."

   "So kid, what do you think he was doing to the boy?"

   "Fucking him?"

   "There's no way to be certain, but that's what I'd bet.  Either that or
something worse."

   "But..."

   "But what?"

   "There must be hundreds of marks."

   "More than a thousand, almost two, it's been a long time."

   "That's what I mean.  Why didn't anyone tell?"

   "I'm sure some of them did, at least they told their parents.  A few of
these priests transferred on short notice.  Neither the kids nor their
parents wanted to get the cops involved.  Most of the kids just quit being
altar boys without giving the real reason.  Some of them, there's no way of
knowing how many, kept quiet because they didn't want anyone finding out
that they liked it.  What's your name?"

   "John, some people call me Johnny but I like John better."

   "OK, John.  How many times have you made that embarrassing confession?"

   "Uh, Two counting today."

   "How many priests have fucked you?"
   "None yet." 

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