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Strict Leather Gates of Hell

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Javert knew it had been a bad idea from the start. To begin with, the people at the post office were notoriously nosy. All it would take was for the package to get torn while in the mail, and the whole town would know that the Inspector had ordered a leather chastity device faster than you could say pervert.

Which had probably been part of the appeal, if he was to be honest.

He shifted slightly, feeling the weight of his cock straining against the rings. And that was part of the problem too, wasn't it -- that he couldn't just leave the thing at home, saving it for his rare nights off. No, he had to wear it to work, walk around all day and deal with everything from petty criminals to neighbour spats with his dick straining under his clothes, trapped like a con in a straightjacket.

That was all well and good. Having to stand here in the mayor's office, with those huge brown eyes on him -- now that was a different matter altogether. Especially given the nature of his errand.

He cleared his throat. "Sir, there is something I should confess."

A slight raise of eyebrows. "What is it, Javert?"

What a horrible day this was. Yes, it had been a relief of sorts to find out that Madeleine was not in fact a criminal. His relief paled against his guilt, however, and the immense sense of failure was not helping.

"I, uh." His prick chafed against its trappings; mentally he cursed himself for having put the device on that morning. "You have been gravely offended, sir."

"Me?" Madeleine said in disbelief. "By whom?"

"By myself, sir."

Madeleine looked even more disbelieving, if such a thing was possible. "You?"

His dick gave a twitch at that look. So innocent and wary all at once. God damn it. That was what had got him into this trouble to begin with, wasn't it? That he just couldn't keep his eyes off the mayor.

"Yes, sir." As he shifted, the cloth of his underpants scraped against the swollen head of his cock, and he had to grit his teeth against his own groan. "I mistook you for a criminal and I made some false reports. It's really not forgivable. You should dismiss me, sir."

"A criminal?"

The mayor's voice had grown a bit fainter, as if halfway stuck in his throat. Javert had to look down, or there might be an accident. God damn, but the last thing he needed to think of right now was Madeleine's throat, what it might look like underneath his collar, if there would be a tattoo on it --

"A convict, sir, called Jean Valjean." His dick twitched again at the sound of the name spoken aloud, and Javert cursed it silently, eyes still on the floor. "There were various -- things -- about you that reminded me of him."

Too many things -- but had he seen them, or merely wanted to see them? After Madeleine had saved an old man's life, lifting a car without help, Javert's suspicions had been roused for real. Sadly, they were not the only thing that had been roused. He really could have lived without the raging boner that had been plaguing him for months now.

One sleepless night, after tossing and turning for a while, he'd got up and turned on his computer, meaning to look over tomorrow's reports. For some reason he'd had the idea to type the words "how to control your boner" into the search field.

And there it was. Put your penis in purgatory with the Gates of Hell!

Well. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Anyway," he said roughly. "It had been on my mind for some time. After the incident with the prostitute, I was angry and I finally told Paris about my suspicions. Today..."

He took a deep breath, hoping the memory of Chabouillet's angry email would help to calm his erection. It did not.

"Today I was informed that I'd been mistaken."

"I'm glad you realise it," Madeleine said softly. Javert ventured a glance. The mayor was staring into space, as if mentally recounting all the times he'd witnessed Javert making a fool of himself -- and Jesus Christ, that thought should not be arousing, but the way his dick pulsated against its restrains suggested otherwise.

He cleared his throat. "I'd been mistaken, because they've found the real Jean Valjean."

That earned him a sharp look. "What are you saying?"

"They found him. There's going to be a court case in Arras -- I've been called as a witness, in fact. I'm going there tonight."

"I see," Madeleine said, for some reason looking troubled. No doubt he was feeling sorry for Valjean; after all, the mayor was soft on crime, Javert thought grimly. Then he checked himself. He of all people was not in a position to criticise the mayor, not after his own fiasco.

Some long seconds went past. The mayor studied his hands, frowning. Was he considering appropriate punishments for Javert? The thought sent a shiver down his spine and into his aching cock. He himself had asked to be dismissed, but perhaps Madeleine had other ideas. Perhaps he'd realised long ago what a pervert Javert was. Perhaps he'd force Javert to expose himself in all his depravity, make him unbutton his coat and reveal his trapped dick where it strained in its cage, hungry to be touched...

The silence went on. At length he cleared his throat again, and the mayor's gaze snapped towards him. "Javert?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but you still need to dismiss me." Or punish me, he thought, but perhaps it was better to let the mayor come up with that possibility himself.

"Oh, that." The mayor shook his head, still looking strangely troubled. "You were only doing your job. Please, Javert. Return to work."

Javert had the distinct feeling this was not going to plan. "But sir," he insisted, all too aware of his cock throbbing impatiently against the leather. "I shouldn't be let off so easily. That would be unfair. I don't deserve to be a policeman after this. I can get another job, maybe in the service industry --"

Madeleine held up his hand; then, rising to his feet, extended it to Javert. Javert stared at it dumbly. After a moment, Madeleine let his hand fall. Another silence arose.

"Please," Madeleine repeated at last. "No more talk of dismissal. Return to work."

It was hardly Javert's place to disobey; yet he couldn't help feeling disappointed as he closed the office door behind him. Maybe he'd gone about it all wrong. The mayor probably didn't want to deal with having to replace him. If he'd asked to be punished after all, that would have left more options open.

Damn it.

He checked his watch -- still lots of time left before he had to leave -- and, with a furtive glance around the hallway, made for the gents. Once safely inside a stall, he unbuttoned his coat and got out his imprisoned dick with a sigh of relief.

With the other hand, he fished out a piece of paper from his pocket. The printed-out email from Chabouillet contained language far stronger than Monsieur Madeleine ever would have used; even so, Javert's imagination wasn't that poor.

If the mayor couldn't get the job done, at least he could take his own punishment in hand. With a groan Javert let his head fall back against the bathroom stall, his failure fresh in his mind and before his eyes, and allowed the rest of him to follow his dick into Purgatory.