1. Dave in trouble
I am in trouble. In fact, if I am not in prison very soon I shall be very surprised.
It all started when I met this young guy at a local gay sauna. I noticed him in the shower block and thought ‘He’s nice’. When he went into the steam room, I thought I’d try my luck. Now I’m no teenager, over 40 now, if I’m quite honest and he looked about half my age. Still, I’ve got a really good body, equipment I’m proud of and even if I’m no oil painting, I’m not a bad catch. In the half light, I thought, he may be willing to play with an old lion.
In fact, he responded quite readily to my tentative brush against his thigh. I felt an enquiring palm stroking my buttocks. It turned out that he preferred guys older than himself and anyway, he was 28; some thirteen years younger than me. We played the usual games in one of the cubicles and left at the same time. He asked if he could see me again and gave me his name (Steve) and mobile number. I was pleased! We did meet up a couple of times at my flat and I introduced him to what we call the DO’s – the drop outs. That’s the name me and my two mates have called ourselves for the last three years or so.
That all started one New Year’s Eve when I came across these two blokes in a pub. I was alone, they looked depressed, so we kind of teamed up. We drunk quite a lot and ended up at Andy’s. He was the older of the two, a big, strong Scot in his mid 40s, thick eyebrows and grey sideburns. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t argue with and would be really stupid if you tried to mess with him. He was fairly quiet, though his friend Matt made up for it. He was also well built and very agile and probably ten years younger than Andy. It was Matt who suggested we play cards, though Andy seemed a little reserved when strip poker was suggested. Matt gabbled on about often playing and not to be so daft. So we played.
Matt was very soon stark naked. He had drunk too much to think straight, but I really didn’t mind. I enjoyed his progress to nudity and the revelation of a very nice body and a lovely, cut dick. To my surprise, he dealt himself in again and explained, ‘Now we start with the forfeits’. Andy was clearly uneasy. ‘Maybe Tom won’t want to do forfeits’.
‘He’s in no danger – he’s still got his shirt on.’
Matt lost again and because I won that round, apparently I had to name the forfeit. I asked what sort of things they usually demanded of each other.
Andy began to say it didn’t matter and forget it, but Matt was determined. He broke in: ‘You could make me suck your dick or bend over while you gave me six of the best.’
I grinned. I was beginning to suspect I had got really lucky with my choice of new friends. Now I knew it. ‘OK I said’, taking my belt off, ‘Bend over that table.’ I gave him six smart blows with my belt, which he took without complaint.
‘Shall we play on?’ I asked.
***
We had a couple of group therapy sessions together. Steve just revelled in the active friendship of three older guys and a lot of spunk flowed when we four got together.
Then a couple of months back, he asked if we could do him a really big favour. There was a guy he worked with who was also gay and enjoyed the rough stuff. He wanted to get him a real special kissogram for his 30th birthday. This was the deal. Tom (Steve’s mate) was a quality controller with the local water board. Steve had checked. On his birthday he would visit a testing room, built into the dam of a reservoir in the hills where he would be due at 3 pm. It was a bit remote and he would be alone. Apparently there were plenty of pipes and tables where a bit of restraint could take place. Three total strangers, dressed in very little and locking themselves in with him would be a birthday present to die for.
Matt works shifts, Andy runs his own transport firm and I could take a day’s leave. No problem. We agreed to do it. It would be a good laugh. We planned it all very carefully.
We saw the van drive up from our vantage point behind the hedge. A guy got out and unlocked the gates, walked onto the parapet and went through a doorway. We waited a few minutes, then, dressed only in white shorts and trainers we burst into the control room. (Actually, I had kept my jacket on, it was quite cool. I dropped it in a corner as we entered.) We couldn’t see much at first; it was a dark room and the sun was bright outside. We swung straight into action. We had agreed that high speed surprise was the order of the day.
He had his back to us, but spun round when he heard the commotion; we were calling ‘Surprise, surprise, Tom. Happy birthday!’ He looked staggered, which is what we had expected, but we didn’t give him any chance to respond, we were on him. His hands were very quickly cuffed behind his back and a gag tied round his mouth. He struggled, but soon saw that it was futile. Hands began to run over his body, very discretely, well at first anyway, gradually exploring, loosening clothing and massaging. Before long, his shirt was over his head and down the other side to rest on his handcuffs, his trousers were round his ankles and Matt’s hand was inside his briefs threatening imminent contact with his nearest and dearest. Andy and I were doing our bit, but it was Matt that put one arm around his shoulders and took his cock into custody with his other hand.
Andy removed the cuffs, but tied his wrists to the pipes that ran along the wall.
It wasn’t long before his briefs joined his trousers and he was totally exposed. Andy pushed a desk between him and the wall; I fixed his ankles to the legs of the desk so that he was stretched out and helpless. To emphasise the point, I planted a good slap on his rear. The guy winced and made an angry noise. Matt continued to fondle his jewels and finally knelt beside him, giving him a really nice blow job. It wasn’t long before he was pointing the way ahead like an old fashioned sign post.
By now, we had all stripped completely and I began to pay special attention to his rear. I stroked and fingered. He still played coy and pulled away as far as he could. I decided on direct action, grasped his thighs with both hands and put my mouth to his rear end. I proceeded to give him the best rimming I knew how; it was his birthday, after all. He had a perfect arse; two lovely buns and a sweet, clean hole. Groans and grunts from the service Matt and I were giving him reassured me that he was flying with us. I pulled a condom out of my shorts pocket together with some lube and enjoyed the ritual of slow and deliberate penetration. Not that it was easy. He wriggled as much as he could. Steve told us he would play hard to get, so I rewarded him with some good, old-fashioned slaps and a vice like grip on his groins. I had my own way, I conquered him. As I penetrated him, he cried out through the gag and for a while I remained motionless, then I relaxed and enjoyed. Soon we would take that gag off. First, he needed to know the total submission of being fucked without any chance of protest or stopping the action. A few short, tentative strokes, my knob pulling at his anus without coming out, followed by a steady, smooth cruise the full length of his tunnel. This was bliss! He was so nice! A bit tight, perhaps, but soon I was pumping him like a train. After a couple of minutes Andy, who didn’t have a great deal of direct action at this point asked me, ‘Dave, are you going to keep that sweet arse to yourself all afternoon?’
I grinned, withdrew and handed him a fresh condom.
So we were all consumed with the task of pleasuring our customer when there was a tap on the door. Steve said he would join us after the first few minutes, so I unbolted the door and let him in. I was grinning, but he looked anxious. His gaze shot straight past me to the table where the prisoner was being serviced. The colour drained from his face. ‘That’s not Tom’ he whispered urgently.
‘Bloody Hell’ was all I could reply. Steve bolted. I turned back to the scene. The other two were looking up, sensing something was wrong.
I spoke to the guy. ‘Look mate, we’ve made a really big booboo, right? I’m really sorry. It was a bad case of mistaken identity. Sorry.’ That was when, for the first time, I got a good look at his face. This was no thirty year old: nearer forty five I should have said.
‘What the fucking hell are we going to do?’ It was Andy. ‘We can’t leave him tied up like this, but we can’t let him go.’
My suggestion was to untie his left hand, so that he could work himself free. This would give us time to scarper. So that is what we did. It wasn’t until I was safely in my own flat that I remembered my jacket. I had left it in the dam testing room. Worse, I kept my firm’s i/d card in the pocket with my name on it.
Soon, very soon the police will come.
2. The next day…
I got very little sleep during the night. It has been almost impossible to concentrate at work today; I expect the police every moment.
But two days passed and – nothing. What was going on? Andy, Matt and I talked to each other endlessly, mainly by phone, trying to work out the best course of action, but we couldn’t agree. Basically, we just had to wait.
The waiting ended on the third day. I was on the factory floor when the message came. There was a tannoy announcement. Would I go to the personnel office at once? I wanted to run, but in my guts I knew that was futile. With a heavy heart and a real fear that I might shit myself I went to the personnel office.
‘Hi Dave. A Mr Johnson waiting for you in the interview room. He said it was urgent.’
Presumably a detective who hadn’t revealed his business. With a trembling hand and heavy heart I opened the door. It was him. The guy I raped earlier in the week. I stared at him like a transfixed rabbit and just stood there.
After some seconds he spoke. ‘Aren’t you coming in? Shut the door and sit down’. Meekly, with a bowed head, I obeyed. I sat in dejection, staring at the floor. For an age we sat in silence. I tried to think. I knew something was wrong, it should have been the police, but my brain just wouldn’t work.
He had a large briefcase with him. He opened it, took out my jacket and laid it on the table beside us.
‘I imagine you won’t deny this is yours?’ He spoke in a flat voice. What the hell was he going to do?
I tried to speak. No words would come. All I could produce was a high pitched grunt. I nodded, but kept my head bowed. I just daren’t look at him.
Another long silence. Then, in that same flat, emotionless voice: ‘Trespass, false imprisonment with GBH, rape.’
I couldn’t take any more. I put my hands over my face and sobbed. At last I could speak.
‘Sorry’. I kept repeating the word. ‘I’m so sorry’.
Eventually I regained control and for the first time since we met that afternoon, I looked at him. ‘I really am so sorry. It was a terrible mistake. We were so bloody stupid’ I spat the words out in self condemnation. ‘I don’t know what I can possibly do.’
‘In the unlikely event that you one day find yourself in my position, what would advise me to do?’
The question shocked me. How can I tell a man I have viciously raped to have mercy on me? Again, after a long silence: ‘Well, I deserve to be punished. It ought to be a police matter. But..’ I couldn’t go on.
‘But you hope that I don’t go to the police.’
Once more I broke down into sobs, my head in my hands.
I heard a movement as he stood up. ‘Well, I haven’t been to the police yet.’ He emphasised the last word. ‘Perhaps you could suggest why I shouldn’t.’
‘I deserve serious punishment, but if you can think of any way I can pay for what I did without the police being involved; I’ll do anything for you.’
‘That’s what I wanted to hear.’ His tone changed. It was more business like. ‘You need to collect your two mates and we will find somewhere to talk. I have a few ideas in mind.’
I agreed to bring Matt and Andy to a hotel room he had booked for Monday evening. They would come. None of us had any choice, I reckoned.
3. The Manager speaks out
I could never have imagined the complications that would occur when I simply agreed to do a friend a favour. Tom’s Abbott’s father visited me one evening and told me he wanted to give his son a surprise 30th birthday present. Tom is a mad keen United supporter; they were playing away that evening and to get to the match they would need to leave by 2.30. Could I arrange Tom a few hours off work and make it a total surprise? Tom’s a good lad and an excellent worker. I looked at his schedule. Someone would have to cover the High Dam check. It was a long drive and took all afternoon. I made the excuse that from time to time a good manager should check up on his staff, told Tom to take the afternoon off and cleared my own schedule for a trip to the hills.
It was a warm, spring day and I was really enjoying myself. I went into the testing room, left the door open behind me to let the sunshine stream in. I was just finishing up…
Suddenly there was a sound behind me. The door closed and three powerful looking guys wearing nothing but very brief sports shorts came storming over to me shouting ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘Surprise’. I was certainly surprised!
It didn’t take a degree in logic to work out what had happened, but before I had chance to enlighten them, they were on top of me. I struggled at first, but it was hopeless. My hands were forced behind my back and a tape stuck over my mouth.
It took me some time to understand what they had in mind. There was nothing of value here to steal. I suppose they could have emptied the dam, but it was low anyway. If they wanted to rob me, why didn’t they just do it and go?
It was when the one they called Matt began to stroke my shoulders, unbutton my shirt and explore inside, going all the way down inside my trousers as far as my pubic hair that I guessed what was going to happen. Well, the details, no. I could never have imaged that.
I suppose it shocked me to realise that this was actually for Tom. I knew he wasn’t married, but he never let on he was gay – if he was.
My shirt was pulled back, my trousers dropped and three pairs of hands began to stroke, pummel and push. It was Matt who first crossed the boundary of decency. He put an arm round my shoulder, forcing me to lean back onto him, while his spare hand closed over my genitals. At this stage, I still had my briefs on, but I was mortified. No man had ever done anything like this since we were at junior school arsing around in the playground.
Someone released my hands and I hoped it was over. How wrong can you be! I was stripped naked, my hands were tied above my head to some pipes and a table was thrust in front of me. One of them attached my ankles to the table legs (though I did manage to give him a good kick in the ribs for his trouble). I was hooked up, star shape and helpless.
One of them slapped my rear with his hand. Of course I jumped and grunted out a protest. For my troubles, I got a few more. Matt’s hands now took full charge of my genitals, stroking them and softly massaging. Inevitably there was a response. But the treachery of my erection was in complete contrast to my mood. Given that kind of treatment and I guess any guy’s cock will respond. But I was angry – and most of all, very embarrassed.
From behind there was more movement. My buttocks were being massaged and then a finger lightly traced out the space between. I jumped again as it touched my anus. Then it changed. I felt a gentle, experimental touch in the same area, but it wasn’t a finger. I nearly died of shock when I realised it was also wet and warm. Someone was exploring my rear with his tongue! He held my thighs firmly with both of his hands. I couldn’t escape, but however angry I was, neither could I deny that this felt good! He probed into my hole. I knew I ought to feel disgust, but the sensation was pure electricity. His lips got into the action. He sucked and probed at the same time. My half erection became a full salute. Matt renewed his attention. I felt his lips and tongue around my bell. Despite myself, I was willing him to give me a blow job. He needed no encouragement. His lips, tongue and mouth worshipped my member in a delightful way. I felt my whole length slide into his throat. Compared with any other oral sex that I had enjoyed, this was the tops. It was a new dimension. My mind raced. Out of my anger and embarrassment I had stumbled into a new land that I didn’t know existed.
There was a development from behind. I saw a condom wrapper fall to the floor and realised what was about to happen. My buttocks were pulled apart, some cool ointment rubbed around my hole and I felt the end of a full bodied penis touching it.
I resisted. I struggled and wriggled. The aggressor murmured, ‘OK my boy, come to Daddy, you know you want it.’ In the end, I lost the battle. With my pelvis wedged against the table and two big hands holding me down, the invasion took place. I was totally virginal in this area; he was big and excited. My whole body convulsed with the pain. I broke out in a sweat and felt sick. For a few moments he stopped and whispered what I suppose he thought were comforting and encouraging words. Slowly he pressed his advantage. I felt a great lump of concrete filling my rectum. It was Hell. Yes, the pain eased, but I didn’t enjoy it at all. He began a rhythm which built up. He grunted his approval and was obviously having a good time.
At last the third guy, the Scot, told him it was his turn and they prepared to change over. My only thought was, ‘He is one hell of a big man. I wonder how big his member is? Will I need to be hospitalised afterwards?’
As it happened, I was saved by an unexpected turn of events. There was a knock at the door. My heart leapt. Would I be rescued? One of them went to the door and opened it. The new arrival was obviously expected and not thrown by the fact that he was met by a naked man. Although I could turn my head to see him, he was standing with his back to bright sunlight and I had little idea of what he looked like. The one thing I did notice was that he wore green and white trainers. There was a hurried, urgent, whispered conversation, which I could not hear and the door shut again. The visitor had gone.
My three attackers left me and huddled by the door for a discussion. At last the one who had raped me spoke up.
‘Sorry mate, we’ve made a terrible mistake. It’s a matter of mistaken identity. I’m really sorry.’
They untied my left hand, put those ridiculous shorts back on and fled. During this time, I got a good look at them all. I would recognise them again.
It took me a while to get free. My first thought was to have them arrested and prosecuted. They could go down for a long time. Then I saw a problem. If this all comes out and it gets around that this had been set up for Tom, I would be outing the poor bloke, who never gave any inkling of his sexuality. What would that do for his family, his friends, his place among United supporters? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was in complete ignorance of what might have happened if he hadn’t gone to the match.
This was a problem. I massaged my sore arse for a while and finished getting dressed. Then I noticed the jacket behind the door. One of them had left it. I went through the pockets and found a personnel card: ‘David Wilson, quality controller, Jefferson and Smith’s.’
‘I’ve got you’, I shouted out in triumph.
4. Judgement beckons
Before I was back in the office, I had made a few decisions. First, I would handle this myself. There was the matter of Tom’s reputation, but in any case, however bloody stupid they had been even I saw that it was a genuine mistake. Perhaps Tom would have enjoyed it: it was meant for him, after all.
I decided to let them sweat for a couple of days, then I would visit Jefferson and Smith’s.
I asked at the desk if it would be possible to see Mr. Wilson without an appointment, making some excuse about being in the area and having a cancellation elsewhere. I heard the request go out on the speakers and waited.
After a minute or two, the door opened and there he was! As he saw me, he froze. His jaw sagged and the colour drained from his face. There was fear in his eyes.
I spoke quietly and very deliberately. ‘You’d better come in and sit down.’
Like a zombie, he obeyed. The door swung shut behind him. He sat opposite me, some four feet away and stared at the carpet between us. I played him. No need to hurry. After maybe half a minute I noticed that he was trembling. I decided to pile on the pressure. I took his jacket out of my briefcase and laid it on the table beside him. He glanced at it and covered his face with his hands. I spoke a catalogue of his offences that day, ending in rape. I have to confess I was enjoying myself. He was far more my prisoner than I had been his at the dam.
I paused for another twenty seconds, but before I spoke again he made a reply. He began to whimper, then sob and finally howl his eyes out. His head was still in his hands and his whole body was convulsing. I watched in fascination. He was trapped and he was sorry. Oh yes he was sorry, but I had already decided that wouldn’t be enough. I should want much more than that. After all he was probably only sorry that he was in trouble, not for the way I had suffered.
It took him perhaps five minutes to regain control. He paused, took out a handkerchief, dried his face and blew his nose.
For the first time he looked into my face. ‘I’m sorry’ he blurted out. He had lost control and was at the point of total surrender. Tears began to flow again. His head dropped into his hands as the sobbing resumed, though this time only for a matter of half a minute.
After that, he took hold of himself, settled down and with trembling, stuttering speech tried to make amends.
‘Look I’m really, really, very, very sorry. I know it sounds bizarre, but we were doing a favour for a friend. A guy called Tom should’ve been there, not you. Believe it or not it was all innocent.’ He stopped and hung his head.
I replied, still very deliberately and slowly. ‘So you were on your way to attack an innocent man at his place of work and while he was on duty? And you planned to rape him and cause him GBH? Will that be your defence in court?’
He looked up at me in panic. ‘Please, no. Look I’ll do anything. Please deal with me yourself, don’t go to the police.’
I stood, told him to be at a certain hotel where I had booked a room, at eight o’clock the following Monday with his two accomplices. If they were not all there the police would know the full story within the hour. Without another word, I left him.
My next task was to work out how this was arranged. Who was the mysterious visitor during my ordeal? Someone who knew where Tom would normally be and when. An inside job? Probably. I decided to make an impromptu inspection of the whole plant the next day. It didn’t take long for me to find those trainers. They were quite distinctive. The owner’s name was Steven Vickers. He had been with us for about three years, but hadn’t got a reputation for reliability. Frankly, he could be immature and this escapade, though more serious than other occasions when he had got into hot water, was typical of his style. I sent for him after lunch.
I got his file out while I waited for him. He knocked respectfully, waited to be told to come in and sat down at the other side of the desk.
‘Hello, Steven, thanks for coming. How are things with you?’
‘Yes, great, thanks.’ I wondered if he had heard from Dave and his friends since last night.
‘Only there have been a few bumps in the road, haven’t there?’
He didn’t answer. He was beginning to get agitated. You could tell it from his body language.
‘You had the day off yesterday. Do anything interesting?’
He shuffled uncomfortably. I think he suspected the game was up, but would hold out until it was hopeless. ‘Just some family business, nothing important.’ He mumbled.
‘That’s odd,’ I tried to sound casual: ‘I thought I saw you up at High Dam in the afternoon.’
‘No, no,’ he replied, rather too eagerly, ‘I wasn’t there.’ He looked uncomfortable. I waited, while the blush spread over his whole face.
I spoke softly. ‘You were wearing those trainers when you came to the testing room door. I recognise them.’
He blustered for a moment, then swallowed hard. He surrendered.
‘What – um – what are you going to do with me?’
‘I haven’t decided yet. Perhaps we can discuss it at the end of the day. Report back here at 5.30.’ That was a full half hour after knocking off time. It would be an interesting test.
5. The affair concludes
I have to confess I spent a lot of the afternoon anticipating the interview. Somehow I felt good. He was at my mercy – though I wasn’t too sure what to do with him. Once more, he arrived exactly on time and sat meekly in front of me.
I looked at him leisurely. He began to get uncomfortable.
‘Well. Here’s an interesting situation. How are we going to resolve it?’
He cleared his throat. ‘Basically, I should take the rap. I set it up. Tom knows nothing about it and he’d be very embarrassed. The other guys – well they were stooges and I let them down badly.’ He paused and stared at his hands. Again I studied him. Fresh faced, short dark hair, boyish. It’s strange how certain things affect you; I noticed the space between his eyebrows. They were fairly thick, but very sparse where they met. I felt a kind of warming to him. There was something about his eyes. Even in present circumstances, they were warm and inviting. I would like to get to know him more. I felt oddly affectionate towards my prisoner.
‘Well, I believe everyone should take his own punishment. What should happen in your case?’
‘Please, sir; please don’t go to the police. I know I deserve it, but it would do a lot of damage to a lot of people, not least Tom. Very few people know about him.’
‘But you do.’ I interrupted him. This time he really did blush, but said nothing.
‘Are you and Tom – involved?’
‘No, no. Well. We occasionally get together.’
‘And you’d rather he was protected.’
He nodded.
‘So how do I deal with you?’
It was quite some time before he spoke. I waited, in no hurry.
‘I can only think of one thing. I suppose you would call it direct action. I deserve a good thrashing.’
I was stunned. This was the last thing I expected. I paused and reflected. Somewhat old fashioned, probably quite illegal, but it had something to commend it. Something inside me began to stir; something I didn’t know existed; something that really surprised me; something calling from a deeper, darker side of my nature. I began to feel an interest in having this attractive young man in my power and at my mercy. Yes, I would love to give him a good thrashing. At length I replied to his suggestion. ‘And what would be the practicalities?’
He was surprisingly ready with his reply. ‘You would have to do it yourself. You could use your hand or an instrument, like a cane perhaps. You would do it until you felt satisfied that I was really sorry or you felt I had paid for what I did.’
‘And if I agree, where and when would this take place?’
‘Maybe over several sessions. The first could be here and now. There’s no-one else in this building at this time. There’s only your car in the car park and I know you usually lock up when you work late. If you’re willing, I am.’
Things were moving very fast. Something was happening I didn’t really understand. A kind of agreement was being worked out that I shouldn’t really want – but I did want it.
‘OK’ I spoke deliberately and stood up. ‘Let’s do it.’
I don’t think he expected me to agree so quickly. Nevertheless, he rose to the occasion. He dropped his trousers, bent over my desk and waited.
As I saw his white boxer shorts and bare legs and realised he was submitting to me, waiting for me to make his arse smart, I was hungry to get started.
I gave him a tentative slap on his buttocks. He jumped, but it could not have hurt much. So I tried again, harder and followed with a few more. An idea occurred to me. I slipped my belt off and double it over. Then I whacked him with it, fairly hard. For the first time, he winced. That had hurt him. So he got some more. I didn’t put everything I had got into it, but he could have no doubt that he had been spanked. I went on for a few minutes.
‘OK that’s enough for now.’
He stood and pulled his trousers up.
‘Sir, you’ve been very kind to me. You were kind to agree not to go to the police, but I think you should decide how much more I need. If you like you could come over to my place tomorrow at lunchtime, my folks are away and you could do a proper job.’
And then it was all over. He left. And I had a lot to think about.
I couldn’t stop going over what had happened and wanting more. I dreamed about new, forbidden actions. A window had opened in my life that I hadn’t dreamed existed. Perhaps I had always denied it. Anyway, when we arrived at his home the next day I was eager to continue with his discipline.
He took me straight into his bedroom. On the bed he had laid out a belt, a few canes, a hair brush and a table tennis bat.
‘I suggest we get straight on with it.’ He was quite business like. This had been planned and organised. ‘It would probably be best if you sat on the bed and put me over your knee to start with.’
I was too new to this to realise that he was really wanting to be spanked like a naughty boy by his Dad. It also surprised me when he stripped naked in front of me with the comment, ‘Let’s do this properly.’
He positioned himself on me, his head and shoulders on the bed, but his midriff on my lap. This was almost too much for me. I felt great waves of intoxication surging through my brain. I was not ready for sight of those buttocks inches from my face: it was sheer beauty. His body was firm and well developed; this was fantastic. I put my left hand on his hip and rested my right hand on those buttocks. Expecting him at any moment to leap to his feet and shout ‘Pervert!’ I gently massaged the area. He didn’t move.
‘Ready?’
‘Yes, I’m ready. Don’t be afraid to give it to me hard, I deserve it.’
I started with the belt. Again I doubled it up and gave him a few quick lashes. At each he reacted, but made absolutely no protest. Red wheals were beginning to appear on his unfortunate flesh. But this wasn’t the easiest position for me.
‘Can you get up for a moment?’ As he stood, I had the briefest of opportunities to notice that he was excited. He had a nice tool and it was fully engorged.
I parted my legs so that he lay over my left leg. Now I had more freedom for action. I also felt the length of his hard pressed against my groin.
I took the hairbrush, the parent’s traditional friend and started laying into him. This time it was fast and furious. He began to whimper, then give sharp cries of pain. I took control of myself and stopped. I was panting. I put my right leg round his legs and held him down Now my own erection was pressing into his left thigh. He could not mistake it. I gave him a breathing space.
‘Do you want me to carry on?’
‘Yeh, yeh – I need it.’
I took a cane. It was quite thick, but very supple. I gave him a smart whack with it. He yelped, but stayed for more. So he got more. I took this phase more deliberately, giving him time to prepare for the next stroke. Each time he cried out and then began moaning between the strokes. His buns were bright red and bruised. I couldn’t carry on much longer. One last blow, with all my force. He shouted out and started sobbing. I just gave in and did what my soul was crying out to do. I pulled him up and turned him so that he was sitting on my lap with my arms around him, like a child in my arms. He settled at once. I pulled him further on to me so that I could stroke his wounded flesh. He relaxed and lay heavily on my chest. Madness took over. His erection was still raging and now fully in my view. My hand moved gently round from behind and took it prisoner. He twitched slightly, then hugged me tightly. I don’t know how long we maintained that position. The Third World War was raging in my brain. Everything I had been and lived for was being up-ended. I should not be doing this!! But I wanted it so badly!
After a while he stretched, gently pushed me back onto the bed and straddled me. Somehow it was just natural to put my arms round him. We lay like this for another glorious age. Our members were pressing against each other; I no longer tried to hide it. He began to squirm and rock, to bring even more stimulation to both. I just groaned with pleasure.
Then he started to unbutton my shirt. I knew I needed to be naked with him. Urgently, I helped him and I felt the thrill of his manly flesh the length of my own. He began to kiss my neck, then gradually work down my chest. He played with the hair that enjoys that address and thoroughly wetted it, but only in passing. He explored my navel. My breaths came in gasps. He continued. He found new hair to dampen, but then his hands joined in. I cannot tell the depth of desire, nor the thrill of achievement when I felt my member surrendered to him. Both hands clasped me firmly, yet respectfully and the tip of his tongue so cautiously began to converse with my tip. Before long he had my whole cock (and I’m well hung) deep in his throat. In fact his nose jammed up against my pubic bone. I was calling out in ecstasy. I had come here as his master and disciplinarian, but he was in charge now. I would do anything he wanted!
Very soon I learned what he wanted. He reached over and took something from a drawer. I realised it was a condom. He was fitting it onto my penis!
He massaged the rubber with lube (and that was another sensation to die for!) and knelt up on the bed beside me.
‘Come on baby, let’s ride!’
I had never done this before and for a moment wondered if I would make a good job of it. I needn’t have wondered. With a little bit of pressure, I slipped in as though we were designed for each other.
‘Right in, baby!’ he called. I obeyed.
‘Now let’s glide down onto the sheets.’ He told me to let him put his legs together.
Very naturally, I squeezed his between mine. My hands slipped under his body and I clutched his shoulders. Then I began a lovely ride. It was the best sex I had ever had. I cruised along that road, but then the beat rose with the temperature. Finally I came, with great gushes of relief. He felt incredibly lovely, there in my arms, trapped between my legs, enjoying the deep fulfilment of mutual desire.
***
The three musketeers were there on time. To my amusement, they had dressed up as thought they were going for a job interview. I dealt with them quite quickly. A judge would probably give them ten years for their crimes. I would make it five. But they would serve that five where I chose. Nervously they all agreed. I have a friend who works for a group of charities in East Africa. He is always looking for workers, drivers, handymen, whatever. The experience would be good for them. They were basically a bunch of clowns that needed to grow up.
And in any case, I didn’t want them around as a distraction to Steve as he taught me the delights of man-love. One older guy in his pack was quite enough.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.