Punishment for a Masturbator

The proud and manly flesh swelled as the young man, in first month of his nineteenth year, rubbed his Peter up and down. In the full bloom of tumescence his member was a testament to Venus herself, carved not out of marble from the quarries of Old Rome, but of flesh. Oh what a glorious feeling it was as images of the female bosom filled his imagination! The other boys had told him about frigging and knew it was wrong, but now in the first blush of manhood, he could not help himself.

In the darkness -- both literal and in the more figurative sense of his act, he moved his errant and sinful hand faster and faster in fervent anticipation of that moment when his seed would burst forth like the eruption of Vesuvius and cover the inside of his bed linens with its telltale milky and glutinous fluid.

So enraptured was he of this shameful act, my dear reader, that he was unaware of the door to his room opening and a silent and dark figure that glided to the side of bed.

Unaware, that is, until the mistress of the house -- for that is who the shadowy figure was of course, looking on her young charge now so rapturously occupied by his sinful act of self pollution -- pulled, with a great and righteous flourish his bed coverings off of him, exposing his shame. There it bobbed in the air, a pale, venous and throbbing agent of the Beast himself. A viscous and clear liquid covered the head, glistening in the light of her lamp. She knew, from years of dealing with obstinate and uncouth youth, exactly what the young man had been doing and the passions that moved him. Still this knowledge this did not temper her fury -- if anything, it added to it. This boy would learn, as all the others had, the penalty for such contemptible and disgusting pursuits of fleshy pleasure. The flesh would most certainly pay a terrible price.

"You horrible, vile boy. What do you think you are doing?" she cried.

The young man could only stammer in terrified response, but pity for him, his unyielding and florid Peter was articulate only in the language of its carnal appetites and it took this most inopportune time to speak. You see, the images of boobies with their bright pink nipples had so taken the imagination of the lad and he was so far along on his path to perdition and ruin that, even as he removed his naughty hand, his Peter twitched once and the slit eye opened and sent a voluminous quantity of the nectar of his loins high into the air. Oh, as cruel fate would have it, the ejecta found its apogee and like Icarus of old, began its fall to earth crashing not to ruin upon the ground, but upon the lace that covered the left breast of the mistress.

A preternatural calm overtook the mistress and time ceased its incessant running, coming to a stop, standing still in the quiet of the room. It was quite the tableau: the shamed and frightened young man, his hardness jutting into the air and the stained woman, standing as quietly as a bust in a mausoleum as a fearsome fury radiated from her. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. Perhaps, she was, my dear reader, speaking only for her own benefit.

"I see. For you, my dear boy, for you, it shall be the mustard. Yes, the mustard."

She then smiled the most cruel of smiles and in a louder voice said, "Wait here. In your present, shameful state. I shall return. I shall return with the mustard."

The mustard poultice. Now, lest you not be schooled in the ways of this frightful and terrible chastisement, pray let me enlighten you. Let me tell you of the preparations the mistress took while the poor boy awaited his punishment.

For this punishment, this distasteful yet necessary chore, the mistress of the house was compelled to call upon the services of kitchen maid. This servant was startled to be awoken from the grip of Morpheus, but complied with the commands of the mistress of the house without question or complaint. A young maiden, the kitchen maid was a step above a scullery maid and was in her nineteenth year, with dark hair and eyes not yet dulled by the vagrancies of advanced years.

We next find the two women in the kitchen of the house, as the ingredients of the young man's punishment were thus:

Several ounces of bran, a spoonful of salt and a generous spoonful of Doctor Robert's flower of mustard seed. With respect to the culinary provenance of these items, it did make a certain sense that the kitchen maid would be called to service. But beyond this merely functional matter, the mistress of the house knew the young man's shame would be increased ten-fold by the presence of the lovely specimen of weaker sex. But, dear reader, it was his weakness that she must deal with now.

The kitchen maid put a kettle to boil as the mistress visited the laundry. From the linen closet she procured several pieces of flannel, some calico and a piece fine muslin cloth. She then cut several strips of a thick canvas so that she might bind the miscreant to his bed of shame. He must be immobilized to receive the full corrective measure of his chastisement! And receive it he shall.

Before returning to the kitchen she went to the bedroom and tied the now shaking and naked young man with the canvas, securing him as though a trussed bird in a butcher's shop. Still the serpent bobbed erect, jutting upward in all of its obscene glory. In the silence, the mistress knelt on the bed, bent over and gently took it into her mouth, tasting the lust of youth. It was over in a moment and shortly she returned to the preparations in the kitchen.

Upon the instructions of the mistress, the kitchen maid prepared the poultice that would soon be applied to the offending young man.

She put the bran atop a pan of boiling water such that it absorbed the heat. The mistress opened the stove and added another stick to the fire and the maid stirred the salt into the now very hot bran. She then, using a wooden spatula, spread the scalding and thick mixture over a piece of calico, to a depth of an inch or so. Once this was done, she wrapped the calico into a neat, disciplined package slightly larger than the young man's genitals. Oh, how hot it was. The kitchen maid was surprised at the touch that burned her fingers.

Next, they prepared the irritant. The kitchen maid soaked a piece of the flannel in the boiling water and covered it with a thick coating of the mustard flower. This was then covered by the fine muslin from the laundry.

The kitchen made looked at her mistress and asked a question. "Will this hurt the young master?"

"Yes my dear. It will hurt him very, very much. He will think he is dying."

A sense joy filled the young woman as she put the steaming poultice and hot mustard soaked cloth onto a china plate.

The two women returned to the young man bearing their evil gifts of chastisement. His eyes opened wide at the sight of the comely young maiden and her steaming plate. He did not have long to wonder of his fate.

The mistress went about her obligations with a startling efficiency. First she stretched his still erect penis against his young and sinful body. Next, she covered the root of his evil with his scrotal sac and then wrapped the mustard flannel, gauze side down, around the shamed boy's genitals. This was then covered by the hot poultice -- the bran having retained the heat of the boiling water -- and everything was wrapped in tidy package as though she had just put a nappy on an infant.

The heat of the poultice agitated and activated the mustard.

Whereupon commenced upon the fleshy shroud covering young man's testes and his proud phallus a burning....an inferno like that of the very fires of Hades itself. The evil of his transgression was being burned out of the very essence of his sin. It was being burned out of his once-proud Peter.

His stoic demeanor gave way almost immediately to cries of anguish. Far too soon for the pleasure of the mistress. She frowned in displeasure and scolded him, "Sacrifices to Venus such as yours will lead you straight in to the mad-house my boy!"

The kitchen maid tried not to smile. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from doing so.

The face of the young miscreant twisted and bloomed red in pain.

He screamed. It was fire and true to the word of the mistress to the kitchen maid he thought, or rather wished, for death to take him from his suffering.

The mistress continued her verbal corrections, contempt and moral fury filling her voice, "Moreover, your wanton and lascivious onanism is nothing but a filthy and sinful habit and I shall not have your bestiality in my house."

Her words were distant such was the young man's agony. She touched the stain upon her breast before continuing.

"Wretched, wretched boy! I daresay you will feel the cane before I am done with you," the mistress said looking down at her suffering charge.

In normal circumstances, such a pronouncement would have filled the young man with dread, but all of his thoughts were consumed by the burning pain caused by the evil mustard. Oh, how his Peter throbbed in an adamantine conflagration of abject misery and contrition. Never again would he allow the urges of his baser self to overrule the angels of his higher nature. This he promised to all that was holy and good. He would be pure in deed, body and spirit. Pure in deed, body and spirit.

He did not realize he was crying these words aloud, screaming them in point of fact, until he saw, through his red and tearing eyes, the mistress smile.

"Pure in deed, body in spirit!" continuing to yell, he pulled against his bonds, attempting to be the Phoenix rising from the ashes, attempting to fly out of pain into purity.

"Yes, to be sure," she said, "the cane tomorrow, in front of the entire household."

The Phoenix did not hear her.

Had he the power of clairvoyance to see beyond the starched white apron of the kitchen maid, the lad might have noticed the flush of her bosom, and the two pink rosebuds, the crowning glory of her womanly breasts, harden into little nubbins of desire and lust.

The mistress felt a warm trickle, a tear of Venus herself, slide down her thigh.

She took the kitchen maid in hand saying, "We shall take our leave now and return it the morrow. At that point, you shall be released from your bounds and the mustard poultice shall be removed from your penis and testes."

And with the passing of her sentence, she reached down and grabbed the wet and hot cloth covering the preparation that had so agonized the poor fellow. She reached around such that she was holding the entirety of his maleness in her two hands and squeezed with all of her strength and might.

"That, my dear boy is for my nightshirt," she whispered.

Later that night as the poor boy lay bound to his bed, she made her way from her small cot in the servant's quarters and up the back stair to his room. He tossed and turned in his bed, the mustard poultice still wrapped in place, his arms and legs still bound. She crawled into the small bed. Lying next to the young master of the house in the dark, her small, feminine fingers, callused from the chopping of beats, carrots and the work of the kitchen, make their way down to her tiny wet cunny. The kitchen maid wanted him to hear her soft moans of pleasure as the embers about his loins smoldered.

END