The Maartens Method

The Maartens Method

Saturday afternoon.

The Reverend Nigel Green flinched as the bulbous head of the strap-on began to nudge the opening of his anus. His Mother-in-law always liked to penetrate him with her dildo as part of a discipline session; as she put it, "to put him in his place."

Nigel looked at the large mirror at the side of the bed. He could see and feel the soft touch of Pamela's black leather opera gloves on his back as she gently guided her black latex penis into him. He looked so pale and vulnerable against the shiny black leather attire of his Mother-in-law. Forcing himself to relax Nigel felt the shaft of the rubber cock slowly enter him under pressure from her hips. Nigel looked at his Mother-in-law again. At fifty-two years old Pamela Tarrant was in her prime. She stood five feet ten inches in her highly polished black leather stiletto heeled thigh boots. Her sheer black nylons were held taut by a black leather garter belt over which she had fastened her latex strap-on. The long gloves reached almost to Pamela's shoulders but her firm breasts, nipples erect, were exposed.

Pamela Tarrant was not what you would describe as conventionally beautiful but she had a powerful and undeniable presence. Her mouth was rather wide to be perfect and her lips, coated with shiny, dark red lipstick, perhaps slightly too pronounced. Pamela's nose was aquiline and long but she had high cheekbones and dark green eyes and her face was framed by an immaculately coiffed head of grey hair. Completing her look that afternoon, with a detail of which Nigel was only too aware, in her right glove Pamela held a thin punishment cane.

Nigel's anus slowly yielded under the pressure from Pamela's strap-on and her dildo began to penetrate deeper. Pamela would never rush this stage. She understood well that the anus was a very delicate part of the male anatomy and easily damaged. More important than that, Pamela very much enjoyed prolonging the process of entering her son-in-law, deliberately drawing out and emphasising the humiliation that Nigel always felt at being taken from behind.

Finally, after ten minutes of being probed, Nigel felt the tops of his Mother-in-law's shiny thighboots pressing against the back of his legs. Pamela's dildo was now fully accommodated by his anus. The young man's bottom was bright red and very sore from the long spanking he had just received and Pamela's leather boots chafed against the tender skin. Nigel closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the pain through his bottom but at the same time enjoying the sensation of the thick rubber phallus filling him and pressing on his prostate. Then Nigel's eyes blinked open as Pamela gave his leg a sharp tap with her cane.

"Pay attention young man!" said Pamela, swishing her cane menacingly. "I'm going to give you a nice, hard fucking. You will then thank me for it and for your spanking by getting on your knees and licking my lovely high-heeled boots to a high shine. If I am satisfied with your work, you will spend the rest of the afternoon bringing me to orgasm with your tongue. If not, I'll cane you. Understand?"

"Yes Madam."

*****

Sometimes Nigel felt his life had become a sexual fantasy. He often reflected on how it had come to this. Not that he was complaining of course, far from it.

Everything had begun quite innocently.

Nigel was a priest. He had had a conventional middle-class upbringing and education and had realised quite early that he had a vocation for the church. He had attended theological college and been ordained and given a small parish in the home counties.

Nigel had met his wife Julie early on in his curacy. Their courtship had been slow but not long and all the correct procedures had been observed. Both Julie and Nigel had been virgins when they married.

The marriage was barely six months old when Julie had been offered a secondment by her company. It was a promotion and an opportunity to work for six months in the United States. Julie had at first resisted the move, feeling that it was too early in the marriage to be separated from her husband. Nigel had been of the same opinion. But both had been persuaded by Pamela, Julie's mother, that she ought to go. The secondment was too good an opportunity to pass up, argued Pamela. And it was, after all, only for six months.

Rather than have Nigel live alone, Pamela had suggested he take a room in her house. After all, she pointed out, the church was much closer to her home and it would save him driving every day. Added to which, Pamela added, she would be only too happy to get to know her son-in-law a little better. Pamela had been widowed over five years before. She had a large house and would enjoy the company.

It all sounded so reasonable, so sensible. And it was, up to a point.

The Reverend Nigel Green had always been a little in awe of his Mother-in-law. She was a confident, assertive woman who knew her own mind and wasn't afraid to speak it. Pamela no longer worked but had been for many years a psychiatric therapist at a local, private clinic. Nigel assumed that was where she had developed her direct, almost controlling manner. Nigel hadn't spent much time with his Mother-in-law but, if he was honest with himself, he was fascinated by her and more than a little attracted.

Nigel had a secret. Although a committed Christian, he was both a fetishist and a sexual submissive. As far back as he could remember he had been fascinated by dominant, fetish-clad, older ladies. Of course, Nigel had never thought of confessing these perverse desires to his wife, Julie or to anyone else. He doubted whether he ever would. He was certain that Julie would be shocked and appalled by learning about his fantasies. Plus, there was his profession. Nigel doubted that many of his, mainly older congregation, would be comfortable with a priest who imagined himself being spanked and caned.

Nigel's sex life with Julie was enjoyable, if unadventurous. He felt certain that it would most likely remain so. His fetishes and submissive tendencies were satisfied through the odd furtive exploration of the web followed by the usual exercise. Nigel was certain that that was how such activity would remain: covert and solitary.

It wasn't proper for a priest to have such feelings. They were against the teachings of the church. Nigel knew that. But he also knew, instinctively, that they were part of him and unlikely to disappear, at least not before his libido faded with age. He had resigned himself to living a life in which only part of his sexuality would be expressed. On the surface Nigel would be a priest and a good one with a normal, conventional sex life.

Or so he thought.

*****

Julie's secondment changed everything. Nigel, encouraged by Julie, agreed to move in with his Mother-in-law. At first, all was normal. Nigel enjoyed his meals with Pamela. Their conversations were cordial, polite and conventional. His Mother-in-law showed no sign of wishing to be other than a convivial housemate. Nigel relaxed, thinking the six months would pass quickly.

But after ten days things took an unexpected turn.

Nigel had written his sermon, as usual, on the Saturday afternoon. Pamela had been out lunching with friends. He would deliver the sermon the following day. After writing and printing it, Nigel had decided to indulge himself in a little 'browsing'. What harm could it do, he thought. He 'browsed' and then relieved but then had closed his laptop and read.

On the following Monday, while he was visiting some parishioners, Pamela, for reasons which were still unclear to Nigel, had decided, as she put it, to 'tidy' his room. Her tidying had for some reason involved looking at his browsing history. Pamela had discovered his visit to "Leather Governess", a site which, in the words of the introduction, "catered for naughty boys in need of discipline" and featured on its front page a photograph of a stern, mature lady in a leather skirt and high heels, flexing a school cane.

Whether Pamela had had any inkling of her son-in-law's predilections before her discovery Nigel never knew for certain. She had given him a few lingering looks but nothing more. However, when he returned from work that evening his computer was sitting on the coffee table, open to a series of images that left nothing to the imagination.

Pamela wasted no time in confronting her son-in-law.

"Well," said Pamela, gesturing toward the screen, "what is this?"

Nigel had nothing to say. He was struck dumb. His mouth had gone dry, his face was red and his eyes flitted nervously, trying to find something, anything other than the images, on which to focus. "Well?" Pamela repeated.

"I don't know," stuttered Nigel, timidly. "I don't know what to say."

"I'm sure you don't." Pamela paused. "Does Julie know about... this?" Pamela pointed to the computer.

"No. No. She doesn't."

"Well, at least that's one thing," said Pamela, shaking her head.

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" pleaded Nigel.

"I don't know," replied Pamela. "I'm shocked, horrified, appalled. How long have you been married? A year? Not even that. Poor dear." The older woman's voice trailed into the ether. "And that's not to mention the Bishop. What would he make of this? What would the Diocese Committee have to say?"

"Look," said Nigel hurriedly. "I'll stop. I'll throw the computer away. Never buy another." He paused, red faced, and looked at the floor. "But Julie doesn't have to know, surely?" Vistas of shame and embarrassment opened up before him.

"And your parents?" continued Pamela. "Do they have any idea?"

"No. No. None at all. They'd be horrified. You wouldn't... tell them, would you?"

"I'm not sure. At the moment I'm not sure what to do, or think."

Nigel said nothing. He continued to stare at his feet, hoping that there might be some way out of the mess he had got himself into.

After what seemed like an age Pamela broke the silence. "I'm afraid I cannot simply ignore this Nigel. That is simply not possible. I have to say at this moment I'm tempted to throw you out of my house and write to Julie, to your parents and to the Diocese. The only thing preventing me from doing so is the hurt that it would cause to Julie. You insist she knows nothing of these... urges of yours."

"Nothing."

Pamela took a deep breath. "I shan't do anything this evening. I don't want to act in haste and then regret it. I shall sleep on it, if I can sleep, and we will talk again in the morning. In the meantime, I suggest you go to your room and take a good hard look at yourself."

*****

Nigel did as he was told. He had no supper that evening, food being the last thing on his mind. When he woke after a fitful night it was nearly nine o'clock. For a moment he smiled as he noticed the sun streaming through a gap in the curtains. Then the events of the previous evening came crowding back.

Pamela was already eating her breakfast when Nigel came downstairs. He joined her at the kitchen table and poured himself a cup of tea. Neither said anything or made eye contact for a few minutes. Then Pamela broke the silence.

"I have given your situation some thought," she said. "And I remain convinced that your behaviour cannot simply be ignored. However, mindful of Julie's feelings, for the moment I have decided not to inform her about your sexual proclivities. It would upset her and I am afraid she would want to return immediately to try to sort things out. That would be a pity. So, somewhat reluctantly, I have decided that the nature of your indiscretions will remain, for the time being, a matter just between the two of us."

"However," Pamela continued swiftly, "as I said, I am afraid that I cannot allow things to stay as they are. As Julie's mother I feel compelled to protect her interests. I think you mentioned yesterday that you wanted to change your behaviour. Were you serious about that?"

"Yes, very much," Nigel eagerly grasped the straw being offered to him.

"You genuinely wish to rid yourself of these perverse feelings?"

"Absolutely."

"In which case," said Pamela, "there may be a way forward."

Pamela paused, lit a cigarette and stood, leaning against a worktop. "You know that I used to work at the Maartens Institute, a private psychiatric clinic."

"Yes," replied Nigel.

"In my last ten years at the Maartens I was in charge of the psycho-sexual ward. I dealt with very difficult patients, almost always males, whose sexual problems were long established and deep seated. You understand?"

"I think so."

"Towards the end of my time at the we were starting to make progress with such patients by using a new kind of therapy. The treatment was based on very rigid control of their sexual activity, involving the use of chastity devices. These were instruments that prevented the patients from masturbating, masturbation being invariably the sole outlet for their sexual satisfaction." Pamela looked directly at Nigel. "As I am sure you are aware."

"The devices were fitted around the patient's penis and locked in place. They allowed the patient to urinate and to wash but prevented erection and therefore masturbation to orgasm. I left before the effectiveness of this treatment could be completely vindicated; however, I hear from my ex-colleagues that remarkable results were and are still being achieved. Patients who were considered incurable were suddenly able to modify their behaviour. A few, though admittedly very few, were even discharged from the Institute."

Nigel suddenly had a strange feeling about the direction the conversation was taking.

"I suggest that in return for me not informing Julie or your parents, or the Diocese about your perverse sexual fantasies, you agree to a course of therapy, administered by me, using the Maartens Method. You will not need to attend the clinic in person so will be able to continue your work as a priest. But you will be under my care and under my supervision 24/7. The treatment will be specifically designed to help you change your behaviour. Again, this is what you have told me you wish to do, correct?"

"Well, yes but."

"But what?"

"Well, it seems..."

"It really is quite simple Nigel. Either you agree to what I am proposing and we work together over the next six months to cure you of these unfortunate urges before Julie returns, or you leave my house this morning and I telephone Julie and inform her that her marriage isn't the perfect relationship she supposes. Which is it to be?" Pamela's gaze was implacable.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Nigel asked, his eyes cast downwards.

"On the contrary Nigel, my dear, you have a very clear choice. I'm certainly not forcing you to accept the therapy. In fact, there is a lot of evidence to suggest that positive results are only obtained when the patient undergoes treatment willingly. It is entirely up to you."

"And you would use one of these devices?"

"Yes, the device is the cornerstone of the treatment."

"How long would I have to keep it on?"

"That would depend on how much progress you make. If you demonstrate that you are gaining self-control over your perversions then the device may be removed for certain periods. On the other hand, if you show that your resolve is weak then, for your own sake, it would remain."

"And you would have the key?"

"Yes."

"What else is involved?"

Pamela shook her head. "I don't think it would help to go into the detail of the therapy at this point. What I need from you now is a straightforward yes or no to the principle. If you accept, we will move forward. If not, then we can end this conversation right now. However, I have to warn you, once you agree to the therapy and the device is fitted, there will be no turning back. I will take photographs and video to be forwarded to those concerned if you renege on the agreement."

Nigel took a deep breath then looked up at his Mother-in-law. "Yes, I agree to have the treatment."

"Good," replied Pamela, smiling for the first time that morning. "I am certain you have made the right decision."

*****