Act Your Age - Out to Eat

Shane, a directionless 20 year old living with his parents and attending community college, is sitting on his porch one lazy day when he spots Grant a new next door neighbor.  Grant is handsome, older, and successful.  Shane is attracted to the older man, wants to start a relationship but Grant has just gotten out of a long-term relationship with a man and isn’t ready for commitment. 

Worse, he sees Shane as too young, too impulsive, and misbehaved, but when Shane won’t give up Grant challenges him to a little discipline.

Out of habit I took my phone from my pocket as we sat down at the dinner table.  Grant seemed to be distracted by the restaurant, the menu, and we hadn’t talked for a while so I just thought I’d pass the time.  I thumbed through my programs and found a game I liked so I started it.  My eyes were on the screen when the waitress came to our table and I didn’t even look up.

“What will it be?”

“I’ll have a cola,” I said.  “I don’t care which brand.”

“And for you?”

“I’ll have a coffee,” he said.  “Thank you.”

She walked away and I heard him clear his throat, but I didn’t look up.  I continued with my game even when she returned though I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was setting down both drinks.  I heard him say, “thank you” and I echoed the sentiments.  She paused a moment but he signaled to her that we needed more time.

“That was very rude,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“You were rude to the waitress,” he said.

I paused the game and looked over at him.  I could tell he was serious so I looked for the waitress.  Had she been there I would have apologized and thanked her more sincerely but she was gone.  I looked back to him as he picked up the menu, but when he seemed distracted again I returned to my game.

“Do you know what you’re having?” he asked.

“Just a burger and fries,” I said.

He didn’t respond and my score was getting higher so I focused my energy on the game.  Finally he closed the menu and sat back, drank from his coffee, then put it back down.  I thought to drink from my soda but didn’t want to pause again.  I felt him begin to stare at me and I thought about my parents who got annoyed with me always playing some game and I thought to stop, put it away, and apologize but it felt too good to be lost in that digital world and I didn’t like the idea of passing the time.  I didn’t like small talk and idle conversation.

“Do you feel up for dessert?” he asked.  “They have a sundae here that looks pretty good.”

“That’s just the advertisement,” I said.  It felt like I was talking to my parents and the next words out of my mouth were what I would have said to them, not what I should have said to him.  “Don’t bother me, I’ve got a really high score.”

I regretted the words right after I spoke them so I apologized but continued to play.  He crossed his arms and I thought about stopping but I didn’t want to concede, not now, not over this.  When the waitress returned he sat up but I stayed focused.

“I’ll have the steak salad.  He’ll have the hamburger and fries with a side of Ranch dressing.  And can we get some chicken wings for an appetizer?”

“Mild or hot?” she asked.

“Hot,” he said.

“If that’s everything just let me go place your order.  You shouldn’t have long to wait for the appetizers.  I’ll be back shortly.”

“Thank you,” he said.

She walked away and he took another sip from his coffee before setting it back down.  This time he leaned across the table to me.  I knew it was serious.  I felt a jolt in the middle of my spine that struck out into my gut and I could feel it clench.

“When we get home you have a lesson to learn about some manners,” he said.

I paused the game and looked at him.  He was serious.  I knew exactly how he would teach me that lesson.  My ass clenched, the chair felt more solid, but everything else was flying away from me in all directions until there were just his eyes, steady in a mask of seriousness.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry.  I was just playing my game.”

“Too late,” he said.

“Aw, come on,” I said.

He shook his head and leaned back.  It was over.  I knew what was going to happen when we left the restaurant.  I knew what was going to happen when we got home.  I turned off the game and set my phone down on the table.  I looked to make sure no one else was around, especially the waitress.

“Can we talk about this?” I asked.

“You don’t want to talk,” he said.  “You’d rather be playing that game.”

I looked to it.  Even at that point it was still appealing, some escape from what I was feeling, some escape from my future, but I stopped myself from picking it back up.

“Look I was just distracting myself.  It’s so boring and I knew you’d order for me.”

“That’s a poor excuse,” he said.  “You were rude to the waitress.  You didn’t even thank her the last time she was at the table.”  He paused when she got close and asked if everything was all right, which he said it was as he looked to her, but then returned his gaze to me.  “She’s not someone to ignore.  She works hard and she doesn’t deserve the way you treated her.”

“I’ll apologize,” I said.

“What about me?” he asked.

I looked to the game.

“I’ll put it away,” I said.

“Too late,” he said.

He reached across the table and picked up my phone.  I was too late.  I hadn’t acted fast enough.  I watched him turn it off, then put it in his pocket.  It was my phone.  I paid for it myself.  I wanted it back.  I wanted the game back.  I looked around to see if anyone else had seen what he did, but no one was paying attention to us.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “but I need my phone back.”

“I’ll give it to you at the end of the night,” he said.

“That’s not fair.  It’s mine.”

“And you were being rude,” he replied.

“Just give it back,” I said.

“No,” he said.

I sat back and crossed my arms.  I knew I was only making it worse for myself but I was angry, and worse I knew there was nothing I could do about it.  I knew he was right but I didn’t like the feeling.  He could be very thorough with his punishment, at least a spanking, maybe wash out my mouth.  I began to pout though I worried I was only raising the stakes.  Did I just elevate from over the knee with the hand to something else?  Would he use the brush or worse?  Would I get the belt?

We waited like that until she came with the chicken wings.  The smell of them instantly reminded me of how hungry I was and when she set them down in the middle of the table with two plates it felt like it was bringing us back together.  I knew he had ordered them for the both of us but something in me made me want to resist.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Everything is fine,” he said.

“Do you want other types of dressing?”

“No, this is fine,” he answered.

“Well, enjoy,” she said before leaving.

“Sit up and have a chicken wing,” he said.

“No,” I replied.  I regretted that it made me sound petty.

I watched him put a few wings on his plate, then begin to eat.  The wings looked delicious and they smelled great but thinking about being punished later made me not want to participate.  I looked away.

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment?”

I didn’t answer.

“You have what you have coming anyway.  You might as well enjoy the food.  Come on, sit up and eat something.”

I looked to him.  It felt as if he was pleading with me now.  I decided to take pity on him and sat up, took a wing and cup of dressing.  There were lots of other people around us talking.  Their ambient sound somehow made me forget for a moment so I started eating, but maybe it was just to blend in with them, not signify to them something was wrong.  We split the bowl and cleaned our fingers with naps that had been left for us.  It wasn’t long after that our entrees arrived.

Half way through the burger, as I was feeling full, I remembered that as pleasant as it was there was still going to be pain afterwards.  I might forget.  I might even convince myself that I could get him to forget but I knew he wouldn’t.  I could take him out drinking.  I could tell him my life story until he was bored, but it wouldn’t be enough.  We’d still be in that room.  He’d still sit on that chair.  I’d still be over his lap with my pants and underwear down around my ankles.

“Any dessert?” she asked.

“I’ll have the sundae.  Maybe I can talk him into a few bites,” he said.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He began to eat.  I wanted that sugary taste, just a little to ease my stomach.  He saw my interest and pushed the extra spoon across the table.  I sat up again, took the spoon, then leaned over the table to the dish as he offered it.  I took a spoonful, put it in my mouth, but suddenly it tasted bitter instead of sweet.  Despite the feeling I cleaned the spoon, set it back down and motioned I didn’t want anymore.

“Don’t like it?” he asked.

“No,” I said.


******

As soon as I sat down in the car everything about me changed.  I was angrier.  He still had my phone.  He was still going to punish me.  Everything I ate suddenly felt twice as large in my stomach and I still had half of a burger in a take home container.

“Just give me back my phone and when we get back I’ll just go to my place.  I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“Were you rude to the waitress?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Were you rude to me?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Did you continue to be rude through the whole meal?”

It was that threat of a spanking that had ruined.  No, not a threat, a promise, the promise of being punished.  It was his fault.  No, it was my fault.  I knew I had no ground but I didn’t want to compromise.  I didn’t want to surrender.  I had everything I was going to get coming to me.

“Just take me home,” I said.

“Do you really want to end this?  You’ve been making so many improvements.”

I sighed.

“I don’t want to end this.  I just, after everything today.  I guess I wasn’t in a good mood and playing games helps me.  I just wanted, I don’t know, to feel better.”

“But you didn’t.  That game didn’t improve anything.  You could have talked to me.  You could have said something but instead you chose to escape and when I called you on it you just ignored me.”

“I didn’t ignore you,” I said.

“Yes, you did.  Now, if we are going to continue this then I want you to slip your pants and your underwear down right now and get over my lap.”

I looked him in the eye.  It was dark.  We were in the back of the parking lot.  There wasn’t anyone else around.  It was unlikely someone would see me, but hear me?  They might just hear me if he gave me a good spanking.  I wanted to refuse.  I wanted to get spanked.  It was a mixture of feelings that made me want to strike out in anger and cry at the same time.

I unbuckled my belt, put my thumbs in the waistband of my pants and underwear, the dress slacks and white briefs he had picked out for me to go job hunting.  I pushed them down, all of the way to my ankles, felt the leather on my bare ass for a moment before he signaled for me to lay across his lap.  I looked out but no one was around, not even a  sound in the parking lot.  I got up, knees on the space in the middle of the bench seat, hands out towards the door.  I worked myself into position until my ass was vulnerable.

He swatted me a few times.  Everything I had felt all day, my feeling of anger, my feeling of regret, my embarrassment felt like it was in my bones.  The pain began to build, but it was familiar despite his force.  The pain held in my cheeks, each strike felt like it went through my body then back again to those two points, those two soft, round globes.  I swear it wasn’t the pain though that cause me to cry at first.  It was everything else.  I finally had some way to release myself, some place where I could be weak.

I sobbed quietly into my forearms and he paused for a moment, shifted me a little, then continued.  I cried as he spanked me.  Me over his lap in his car and in a parking lot.  We were so vulnerable.  I was so vulnerable and yet with him I felt safe.  One cheek then the other in a rhythm that echoed in the enclosed space until my sobs got louder.

It was a struggle to not scream, to bring attention neither of us wanted, but I did it, though the sound of him hitting my ass wasn’t much quieter.  It ringed in my ears as I cried everything out over his thighs.  It felt good to have done it.  I felt relieved.  I felt empty in some satisfying way. 

Finally, I begged him to stop which he did.  I felt my shirt halfway up my back.  All emotion was gone from me.  I felt my pants and underwear around my ankles which had become locked around each other.  My cock and balls smashed against his leg.  I felt as if I had gone through a great darkness only to return to my body in that car. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Get up,” he said.

Once I had the strength I pushed myself up from his lap and back to my seat where I sat for a moment and yelped in pain only to reach for my pants and underwear and drag them up over my red, bruised butt.  When I sat back down I leaned onto the door, shifted as far as I could on one end of a cheek.

“What lesson did you learn?”

“To be more respectful to you and to other people.  I won’t play my games at the dinner table when we’re out to eat.”

“And?”

The question caught me off guard at first as I wiped the tears away from my eyes.  I felt my face was red, possibly as red as my ass, snot clogged my nose.  It felt like everything was trying to leave my body, even me.  I thought for a moment about what had happened, then I remembered what he had told me in the car.

“That I should talk to you and tell you what I’m feeling instead of distracting myself.”

“Good,” he said.  “Now buckle up.”

It hurt to shift when I did, but I managed to do it without crying or yelling, but once it was in place I went back to the farthest part of skin I could.  It barely felt better than my whole ass but it was something.

We drove back in silence.  I fell asleep by the time we got there, but awoke when he pulled into the driveway.  He parked the car, turned off the headlights and ignition, undid his seat belt.  I watched him get out, go the house door, unlock it and open it.  I thought for a moment he would forget about me, but then I saw him headed back to the car.   I moved away from the door before he opened it.  He reached down, undid my seatbelt, then put his arm around my back, under my thighs, and lifted me out.  I felt safe and warm in his arms.  He carried me inside to the bathroom where he set me on my feet.  I leaned against the counter and he started the water before going back and closing the main door. 

When he got back to me he turned me a little, undid my shirt, my belt buckle was all ready open, so he undid my pants and helped me out of them.  He stripped me down, put his hand on my shoulder and led me over to the tub where I stepped inside and lowered myself into the water.  I positioned myself on the least amount of my ass possible, leaned back into the tub to decrease the weight. 

He waited until the water was past my navel before he turned it off.  It felt strangely rewarding after such a punishment but then again there had been two parts to my day.  There had been one part where I worked really hard and had been successful and another when I had failed miserably.

At his urging I leaned forward and he slowly did my back.  There was barely any feeling in my ass, just small twinges.  When I was clean he helped me out and dried me off, hugged me, then sent me on my way to the bed.  I walked as best I could, trying not to stretch anything too far, but I listened to him getting into the shower.

I wanted to go back and be with him.  I wanted to be in the shower.  I wanted to help bathe him, but I knew I was too tired.  I made my way to the bed where I got in face down and closed my eyes.  I fell asleep before he got out but I woke to him at the side of the bed and I rolled onto my side.  He got in behind me, moved up close and kissed me on the neck just behind my ear before I fell asleep again.

Hazed on the Farm Pt 3

“Open up and say aw,” Grady said.

John opened his mouth, tried to ready himself for what he was afraid Grady might do, which is stick his dick inside, but he didn’t.  Instead Grady shoved John’s underwear in his mouth.

“Do you like that?  Bet you can really taste the cum and piss stains.”

Grady smiled down at him before ruffling his hair, then stepping back to appreciate his prize.  John felt his balls and dick between his thighs, the way his feet pressed up into his buttocks, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Get over there and put your back to the dresser,” Grady said.

John looked over to the wall and the dresser.  It wouldn’t be much of a space, though no one would see him from the doorway.  They’d have to step into the room.  He crawled over to where Grady pointed and sat against the side of the dresser with one leg under the other letting the second one stick straight out.  He waited as Grady retrieved something from his desk, a roll of black tape.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Grady said.

John looked up to him, to his crotch where he saw an erection.  Grady bent over, pulled out some tape, then stuck it to John’s lips, cheek, down around his neck, and back up to keep the gag in place.

“Knees up,” Grady said.

John raised his knees obediently, felt the cool air on his asshole and the way his balls sunk down between his thighs.  What had he gotten himself into?

“Hands down below your thighs,” Grady ordered.

John did that too.  He wasn’t surprised when Grady taped his wrists together down under his thighs.  Next was his knees, and finally his ankles.  John groaned and being rendered immobile but let his chin sink against his chest in defeat. 

Grady collected his underwear from the desk, stuck them in the hamper, got a new pair out as well as a pair of jeans.  He pulled them both on as he stared at John who didn’t move.  He then went to the window and looked out.

“My father’s still working on his bike so we have some time to kill,” he said.

He went back to his desk and retrieved a sketchpad and pencil, then went to his bed where he sat to use his thigh for an easil, looked over at John.  He opened the pad, looked through the images, finally stopped on a blank piece. 

“I’m thinking about giving you a bigger dick, let it hang down a little.”

John looked to him with anger in his eyes.

“I’m just messing around with you.  It’s average, probably.”

John looked back to his knees and the tape that held them together.  It wasn’t long after that when there was a knock on the bedroom door. 

“What is it?” Grady asked.

“I’m going out to the bar with your mother.  You two behave yourselves.”

“Can John stay over?”

“Yeah sure,” his father replied. 

He pushed open the door and Grady sat up, put his feet over the bed.  When he thought his father would step in further he crossed to him to block him from entering.

“What are you two going to do?”

“I thought we’d go camping,” Grady said.

“That’s a good idea.  Where is he anyway?”

“He uh, went for a walk.  He said he had to make a phone call.”

“Good luck with the reception we get out here,” his father said.  “Well, I’m off, so don’t make a mess of the place and make sure you pack everything you need.  It might get cold tonight.”

“Do you mind if we drink some of your beer?” Grady asked.

“Just leave me one for the morning in case I need the hair of the dog,” his father said.

“Thanks dad,” Grady said.

“All right then,” his father said before walking away. 

Grady listened to the man move back through the house, waited until he heard his motorcycle start, and then he moved to John.  He squatted down in front of his friend.

“We’re going to have a nice time,” he said.

John grunted into his gag and Grady playfully tapped him on the cheek.

“Do you know how they castrate a bull?”

John grunted into the gag.

“I’ll show you,” he replied before turning away and going to his desk.  There he opened a drawer and took out a long piece of rope.  John watched in horror as his friend walked back over to him, reached down under his thighs.  He took hold around the base of John’s cock and under his balls, secured them with a tight grip, then began to wrap thick rope around the area until it was secure.  He gave a tug and John groaned in pain.

“This isn’t really how it’s done but close,” Grady said.  “Does it hurt?”

John nodded as sweat broke out on his forehead.

Part 1 / Part 2

Spank Men (Slash Fiction)

“When you were a boy, what would your father have done?”

Don’s voice had the familiar, stern quality that it usually did when he was trying to teach an important lesson.  It was flat, unemotional, but not robotic.  It was unsympathetic, had the strength of a man who would see something through to the end.

“What?” Pete asked.

He looked to the closed door, then across the desk to Don who stared at him.  He felt like he was being pulled out of time, that there was some connection between them.  They were both going somewhere, someplace that was dark, someplace few other men went.  Maybe men in the army, or criminals, a conspiracy against the social norms, but they weren’t criminals and Pete had never served in the army.  It was new to him, yet it had traces of things from his past, things he would rather forget.

Don got up from his chair and walked around the desk.  The action broke Pete from his reverie and made him look up to the man.  Though he wasn’t his direct boss Don was superior to him.  He could fire the man and Roger would support it.  Pete swallowed and rubbed his hand on his pants to ready himself, though he wasn’t sure what would happen.  He watched Don step in his direction, face him, and lean back against the hardwood top.

“If you misbehaved, embarrassed yourself and your father when you were a boy, what would have been done?”

“I don’t know Don,” Pete said.  “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“It’s too late.  It’s all ready happening.  You have two choices.  You can walk out of this office, collect your things, and leave this building, or you can stay.”

Pete looked again to the door.  He wanted to leave, but he needed to stay.  No one would respect him if he left.  His wife wouldn’t understand.  There would be no pity from his parents, no sympathy from his coworkers.  He would be alone.  As distant as everyone could be in his life it wouldn’t be like that, but worse.  He had been given two options, but maybe there was a third.  He looked back to Don, made his most pathetic, desperate face, and looked him in the eyes.

“I’m very sorry for what happened in there.  I know I shouldn’t pitch my own copy and I know that I’m in accounts and you’re in creative, but I felt like it was such a good idea.  They didn’t like what you presented and I felt like I had to say something.  I was afraid they were going to leave.”

“Let me stop you right there,” Don said.  “You’re right, our jobs are different, but it wasn’t just about getting them to stay.  You wanted to best me.  You wanted to embarrass me, and you did, but you also embarrassed yourself and this agency.  So I say again, if you had done that when you were a boy what would have been done?”

Pete looked down to the floor.

“The answer isn’t down there,” Don said.

“I’m sorry.  I’m really sorry.”

“Answer me Pete or I will throw you out of this office personally.”

There was no getting around it.  He knew what Don wanted him to say.  It was a childhood lesson.  If you did something wrong... No, he told himself, not that easy.  I’m a grown man.  He’s a grown man.  He might be older, and I might just be out of college, but still, there are rules.  An adult punishment should be garnished wages, a demotion, or maybe a lecture, something that wounded his pride a little, but something he could walk away from at least.

“Are you going to answer me?”

“I’d be punished,” Pete muttered.

“I didn’t hear you,” Don said.

“I’d be punished,” Pete said louder and more clearly, though he still looked away to his hands and his knees, the end of the desk.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.  Look up at me and say it.”

Pete looked up into the man’s eyes again, but there was no comfort there, only remorseless duty.  He broke the gaze and looked at the man’s lips instead, his chin.

“I’d be punished,” Pete said.

Don took a deep breath and relaxed a little, rolled up his sleeves.  He crossed his arms, made himself comfortable.

“How would you be punished?”

“What?”

“When you were a boy, how would you be punished?”

“I’d be spanked,” Pete said.

Don held his chin up, flexed his brow.  His ears raised.

“What do you think you deserve after your little show in presentation?”

“You don’t mean,” Pete said.

“Why not?  You acted like a child.  You tried to take over the presentation with your own ideas.  You all but threw a temper tantrum when I tried to get it back on course.  You have no respect for me or this business.”

“That’s not true,” Pete said.

“I know what you think.  It’s not respect.  You have need.  You have want.  You have ambition and you have prospects.  A bigger office, a bigger desk, more power, and more money but you don’t have respect.  I’m going to teach you respect.”

Pete didn’t move.  He was frozen.  He felt his breath leave him and he wasn’t sure if it would ever return.  Everything was wrong.  This wasn’t an adult thing.  This wasn’t a professional thing.  It was personal.  It was vengeance.  It was humiliating and embarrassing.  He opened his mouth and his breath returned to him but he still couldn’t speak.

“Stand up,” Don said.

Pete shook his head.

“Stand up,” Don repeated.

Pete felt strong in his ability, his conviction to not move.  He wouldn’t make it easy, his boss, Don’s boss, everyone would hear about this.  He’d fight him.  He’d struggle.

“Either stand up and take what you have coming or leave,” Don said.  “You can still do that.”

“I’m not leaving,” Pete said.

“Then stand up,” Don replied.

Pete shot up from his seat.  His back and arms betrayed his brain.  His knees felt weak but he forced himself to not fall down, to not run.  He looked to Don who remained motionless.

“Take off your jacket and put it on the chair,” Don said.

Maybe this would be worse for Don than himself, Pete thought.  Maybe there could be something to use against him.  Maybe he could file a lawsuit.  He clenched his jaw.  He still couldn’t look the man in the eye but he thought he was ready for him.  He wouldn’t obey, this would have to be difficult.

Don moved, slid closer and reached out to Pete’s shoulders, took hold of the jacket cloth.  With an easy motion he had Pete’s jacket down his arms, pulled it from around his back, and then tossed it on the chair behind him.  Pete felt his face warm.  One good swing, he thought, one good swing and maybe I can stun him, but there was no room to do it.  They were too close.  He could feel Don’s breath.  It was warm and it smelled of whiskey. 

There was a long pause and somehow he thought it was over, but then Don took hold of his tie and undid it, pulled the long cloth from around his neck, tossed it on the chair as well.  Pete was frozen.  Don took hold of his belt buckle, undid the tight leather, loosened it, then un-tucked Pete’s shirt.  Pete closed his eyes when he saw Don’s hands move up towards his neck, his face.  He felt Don take hold of his collar button and unfasten it.

Methodically he worked down the shirt one button at a time until it opened.  His white undershirt was there but he was almost half undressed.  Don pushed the shirt off and dropped it on top his other clothes.  Pete opened his eyes.  He looked down to his own white undershirt, then to Don’s hands as they moved to the front of Pete’s pants.

“Are you going to strip me naked?”

“Should I?  I removed your shirt because I didn’t want it to get wet from the crying.”

Crying?  Pete clenched his jaw again.  It was a trick question.  Don clearly had intentions of something.  It all felt so ridiculous, so out of control.  It wasn’t like either men and yet they were there and it was happening.  He readied himself for the unbuttoning, the opening of his fly, but it didn’t happen.  Instead Don pulled, began to step away, and brought Pete with him around the corner of the desk and to his office chair where he sat and pulled Pete down into him, pulled his head down almost to his lap, but then to his hip.  He put his left arm around Pete’s side and held tight.

“I hope you learn something from this,” Don said.

The first hit reminded Pete of someone hitting a carpet and he barely felt it.  Maybe this won’t be so bad, he told himself.  The second hit wasn’t much worse as his pants protected him.  Don continued for several more until finally the pain was beginning to collect in Pete’s cheeks.  It was a dull ache that felt like it was driven into his butt each time and stayed longer with each hit.  Pete counted to twelve and when he felt Don had stopped he let out a breath.  It was over, he told himself.

“Stand up,” Don said.

Pete did as he was told.  Somehow his chest hurt more than his rear, his pride was a little worn, but it was something he could live with if it stopped there.  He looked down to Don who stared up at him.  They made eye contact.  Pete couldn’t help but smirk.  He had been punished, it wasn’t effective, and there was nothing more to be done.  There were no tears after all.

Don grabbed hold of the waist of his pants again, slid his fingers to the button and undid it.  He opened Pete’s fly and loosened his pants to let them fall down around his thighs.  Pete furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head.  The smirk was gone.  It was replaced by worry.

Don pulled him back down.  Pete’s chest across the man’s lap made a deep, oppressive feeling in his lungs, but that wasn’t the worst of it.  The worst of it was his ass which stuck out into the air with only his thin boxers to protect it.  Don shifted him a little to get a full swing at his buttocks.  One.  Two.  Three, and Pete sucked air.  The pain wasn’t negligible anymore.  Four, and he exhaled.  Five, he gripped the arm rest.  Six, and he wanted it to be over.  Seven, he didn’t know how much more he could take.  Eight, that was too much but it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.  Nine, and he only had three more to go until it was the same number as last time.  Ten, he let out a moan.

Just block it out, he told himself, it’s more than half over.  Eleven, his arm swung back impulsively to try and cover his exposed bottom.  Don took hold of his wrist, pinned it to Pete’s back.  Twelve, it should be over.  Thirteen, that’s an unlucky number.  Fourteen, it had to stop.  It was just a hand, but Don was working him methodically.  He had a goal, a way of doing this, as if he had done this before, or learned from someone. 

The spanking became more intense and Pete soon lost count of the number of strikes.  The worst part though still seemed to be not the pain but the feeling of being vulnerable.  He hated the way Don’s hand began to cup over each cheek when it hit until he began to expect a rhythm.  His eyes began to water.  Pete told himself it was the humiliation, the vulnerability, not the actual pain itself.  He thought it was over several times until he felt Don stop, take hold of the waist band of his underwear, slip it down over his reddened, burning skin.  He felt the fabric, the tightness at his thighs, his knees and the backs of his calves, and then completely loose around his ankles along with his pants.

Don shifted him until his feet left the floor.  Pete put his feet together.  He felt another spank, and another spank.  His feet pressed against each other until one slipped over the other, his ankles were locked.  He was completely at Don’s mercy.  He was essentially naked, despite his undershirt.  His cock and balls were bare.  His ass was exposed.  He felt the part of his butt and the way Don’s fingers lay in the cleft each time he spanked his left cheek.

The pain was worse.  It wasn’t just humiliation.  It was the pain, the unending, unsympathetic, remorseless pain.  Pete balled his fists.  He began to cry.  His neck gave out.  His head lowered.  There was only the sound of spanking and crying.  Each hit was firm and complete.  Each sob was low and desperate.

Finally it felt like his ass was completely ruined and Don stopped, took hold of his victim, helped him get to his feet.  Pete tried to cover himself, then thought of his butt, and tried to reach for it but Don stopped him before he rose to his feet.  He took hold of Pete’s shoulder and turned him to the desk, motioned for him to lean down, assume the position.  Pete did.  His hands were flat.  His feet were flat.  His shirt just over the top of his ass felt like a line drawn in the sand.  What does that even mean?

Pete saw Don shift next to him, this time it was his own belt buckle.  He watched in horror as Don removed his belt, double it over, and finally snapped the leather together.  He’s enjoying this, Pete thought.  He saw the way the belt moved, but noticed Don held it by the buckle so at least there was that.  He looked away, leaned down to offer his buttocks.  He felt his balls and dick loose from his body.  He readied himself.  It felt more imminent when Don raised Pete’s shirt up his back. 

Just get this over with, Pete thought.  He expected another series of painful hits to his butt.  He was ready to sacrifice that all ready tenderized piece of flesh.  He was surprised when the belt hit the backs of his thighs instead.  Don was quicker with the blows.  Pete leaned down over the wooden top, exposing himself, his thighs more unintentionally.  He felt a nerve, a muscle, break in his butt and it began to spasm uncontrollably, next it was his thighs.  He instinctively tried to raise a foot but found them trapped together so he could barely get it an inch off the ground.  One then the other, never sure which would feel the worst pain.  It didn’t help with the feeling of being hit.  It helped because it gave him some little sense of control.

Pete’s sobs became wails of uninhibited pain, remorse, and eventually desperate, childlike anguish.  He screamed out and he didn’t care who heard him.  He let himself go until he shrieked and moaned.  He had been reduced.  He had been humbled.  Don stopped.  He put his belt back around his waist, one little piece at a time, until he buckled it.  Pete could barely move.

After it was done, after Pete had been thoroughly spanked, all pride, all anger, and all emotion beaten from him Don pulled him to his feet.  Pete reached back to his buttocks with both hands and took hold of them.  He felt a heat back there he had never felt before, not even from his father or mother.  It didn’t matter that his underwear was down, his limp dick stuck out crudely from under his shirt, that his balls were tight.  It didn’t matter that Don saw him as a completely humiliated young man.  It was his ass.  it felt so raw and vulnerable, more so than before he had been spanked.  It was a feeling in his skin, but also in his brain.  There was no past and no future.  There was only the feeling of present.  There was only his ass, his hands, and the tears streaming down his face.

“Shuffle over to the corner and wait for me,” Don said with a point of his finger.

Luckily the corner wasn’t far, not the other end of the room, no it was near his desk.  Pete turned and shuffled to where Don had pointed.  It was a punishment his parents had also used.

“Nose in the corner,” Don said before lighting a cigarette.

Pete moved as close as he could.  His nose right to the corner, his feet at awkward angles, but his hands still on his burning rump.

“Hands on top of your head,” Don said.

Pete obeyed.  His hands went to the top of his head without really thinking about it.  The motion raised his shirt up his back to expose his buttocks.  It hung more loosely, not fully touching his back.

“Don’t move.  I have to make some calls,” Don said.

Pete stared at the corner, closed his eyes for a moment but when he felt weakness as if his legs would buckle he opened them again and took a deep breath.  He listened as Don picked up his receiver and asked for an outside line.  Pete recognized the name but tried to not think about it.  The conversation was friendly but generic, a meeting time was set.  Don then hung up and relayed the information to his secretary through the intercom and asked for another person to be called.  He made a series of calls after that, all of them about the same.  It was almost forty-five minutes later when he stopped and opened a folder on his desk.  He read it over intently for a long time before finally looking to Pete who hadn’t moved.

“Take off your shoes, pants, and underwear.”

Pete did so awkwardly, trying to stay up as best he could, keep his nose in the corner.  At one point he almost fell but stopped himself.  It was a humorous sight as his body moved in spasms, his balls swung loosely down between his thighs that were red and marked.  Don got up, walked to him, and stopped a few inches from his back when he was finished.  He took Pete’s clothing, then put a hand on his shoulder.

“Come over to the couch and lay down,” he said.

Pete turned with Don’s hand still on him and walked to the couch where he didn’t even bother to sit.  It would hurt too much.  He went face first down to the soft cushions, his cock and balls got uncomfortably smashed against his thighs in the process but he didn’t dare move because he was afraid he’d feel another swat.

“I’ll be back.  Go ahead and sleep, I’ll make sure no one bothers you and no one is looking for you.  You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Pete closed his eyes.  He felt like he could sleep despite having just woken a few hours prior.  He listened as Don set his clothes on the chair, then left the office.  He wanted the darkness, the comfort, but his ass stung.  He reached back one tentative hand, but stopped himself when he realized he hadn’t actually seen Don leave.  What if it was a trick?  He brought his hand back up to his chest and listened a little longer.  The feeling got worse and having not heard anymore noise he decided to look. 

Don wasn’t there.  The door was closed.  He saw his clothing on the chair and for a moment he thought about getting dressed and leaving.  He thought about running away, not even going home, just leaving.  He had some money, some skills.  He could start over, but that idea felt ridiculous.  No, he wouldn’t be able to make it out there, he told himself, then laughed at his own proposal. 

He slept for several hours, undisturbed by the workings of the office, the responsibility of his own job.  When he awoke it was to the sound of Don entering his office.  He looked to the man instinctively, then away.  He had seen something in the man’s hands but didn’t dare to ask. 

“Come over here.”

Pete pushed himself up, crossed to where Don stood.  He saw white fabric in the man’s hands.  He swallowed at what could be next.  Don dropped several pairs of white briefs on the desk.

“I got these from the store room but from now on you have to buy your own.  I’m going to do random inspections to make sure you are wearing them.”

“Why?”

“Because after today, for a while, you aren’t a man.  You’re more like a boy.  These are boy’s underwear.  They’re your size.  You’re not going to be able to sit down and everyday when you get dressed, every time you use the restroom, when you go to bed at night, you will feel them there and know that you are wearing them because I told you to do it.  It will remind you of the lesson you learned today.  Hopefully it will keep you in line without us having to repeat this.”

“Okay,” Pete said.

“Everyone is out to lunch.  Go to the restroom and wash off your face, go get something to eat, and get back to work.”

Pete looked to his own clothes on the chair.  It felt silly to ask but he didn’t want to anger Don more.

“May I?” he asked.

“You may,” Don said.

Hazed on the Farm Pt 2

They watched the rest of the movie without talking much between them.  John couldn’t get the thought of paddling out of his mind.  It kept coming back to him at the commercial breaks when there was no narrative to distract him.  He wanted to say something but Grady seemed to have forgotten about it despite his interest, and despite watching the clip several times.  Perhaps it was the presence of his father in the house, John thought.

When the movie ended they changed the channel to something else.  John was beginning to feel comfortable sitting there in just his underwear when Grady’s father walked into the room.  The presence of the man made him sit up, take note of what his crotch looked like and if there was any visible sign of arousal. 

“Your mother wants to go out tonight so I’m going to meet her,” he said.  “I’m taking my bike so I’m going out to get it ready.”

Grady looked over his shoulder to his father as he left the room, then looked to John and grinned.  John thought to say something but couldn’t think of anything so he decided to excuse himself. 

“I have to use the restroom,” he said.

“TMI, I don’t need an announcement.  Unless you want me to go with you?”

“Fuck off,” John said before he got to his feet. 

He looked down at Grady and decided he shouldn’t walk past him, shouldn’t make himself vulnerable.  He turned and moved around his side of the couch, walked behind Grady, through the house to the bathroom.  He closed and locked the door behind himself and went to the toilet.  It was easy to tuck his underwear under his balls.  The sound of his urine hitting the bowl seemed the loudest he had ever heard it.  He noted the color, a sign of his hydration, and flushed before he put down the lid and went to the mirror.  He saw his reflection and shook his head.  He told himself that he looked foolish in just a pair of white briefs, especially the way it formed around his cock and balls.  The white color added to the definition.  He was thankful there weren’t any visible stains.  He decided that he would go back out and put on his jeans.

He went to the bathroom door, unlocked it, opened it, and turned off the light.  The house was quiet.  He couldn’t hear the television.  He walked back to the living room and was surprised to find Grady still sitting.  He looked to the end of the couch to where he left his jeans but they were gone.

“Where are my pants?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Grady answered.

“Give them back.”

Grady raised his hands and said, “Search me but I don’t have them.”

“Very funny,” John said.

“Actually it is,” Grady replied.

“I want them back.  I want to leave.”

“But we were having fun.  My parents are going out.”

“I know,” John said.

“What if I told you that I have a game in mind?”

“Like what?”

“A competition,” Grady said.

“What kind of competition?”

Grady held up a wooden spoon.

“What’s that for?” John asked.

“Shove it up your ass,” Grady said.  “What do you think?”

John balled his fist.

“It’s for a spanking competition, the loser has to stay in his underwear the rest of the night.”

“And the winner?”

“Gets his jeans back,” Grady answered.

John thought about trying to fight him, making him submit until he gave up the jeans and his shirt, or else maybe stealing some clothes from Grady’s room, but he stopped himself.  The idea of a spanking competition sounded interesting.  It was the thing he had been thinking about while they watched the rest of the movie.  It would be a test of his endurance for pain and a chance to give Grady a few swats.

“I’ll do it but when?”

“Right now, up in my room,” Grady said.

“But your father?”

“He’s playing with his bike.  That could take hours, plus I can see him from my window upstairs.  We can check to see him working.”

“I don’t know.  We’d make a lot of noise.”

“What about something else?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Come with me,” Grady said.

Grady jumped to his feet and walked past John who turned and followed after him.  At the stairs he couldn’t help but look up at Grady’s ass, the stretched fabric was almost transparent.  When he felt a stir of feeling he looked away.  At the top of the stairs Grady turned on his friend, ushered him back to his bedroom, and inside where he locked the bedroom door.

“If you don’t want to play a spanking game, and you want it to be quiet, then we could have a jerk off competition.”

“What?”

“Lots of guys do it.  We lay down next to each other on the bed with something to catch our cum and we see who can do it the fastest.”

“I don’t know,” John said.

“The slowest?”

“Doesn’t that sound kind of gay?”

“Only if we jerk each other off,” Grady said.

“This is getting kind of weird,” John said.

“Let’s up the stakes.  Loser has to do whatever the winner wants for the rest of the night without question.”

Grady moved to his desk and set the wooden spoon down.  John looked him over, then looked away before making eye contact.  That was a big stake, but then he thought of having Grady under his will and it excited him.  He thought about taking the spoon to him, bossing him around, making him grovel.  He was pretty horny and felt he could get one off easily. 

“Okay,” John said.

“Great, let’s get to it.”

They moved to the foot of the bed, faced away from it.  Grady placed his thumbs in the band of his own underwear, pushed them down, then stepped out of them.  He tossed the material onto his desk chair.  John wasn’t ready for such a move.  He decided to keep his underwear on.  They were nearly shoulder to shoulder.  Grady sat first and John followed.  Grady slid back and John followed.  Grady lay back and John followed.

“On the count of three,” Grady said.

John reached into his own underwear.  Grady took hold of his own dick with one hand and his balls with the other.  Grady counted to three and they both began to jerk as fast and hard as they could.  John felt himself straining against his underwear easily whereas Grady’s dick stood up in the air.  They looked down over their stomachs to their crotches and their hands.  John was shocked to see the size of Grady’s engorged dick. 

“I’m a grower not a shower,” Grady said.

“You don’t brag about it,” John replied.

“Yeah, well, focus on your own dick,” Grady said.

John closed his eyes and continued to work himself.  The sensations were familiar to the ones he felt in his own bed before going to sleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about daylight, being in someone else’s room, and Grady’s father outside.  He lost focus and let out a groan of frustration as he felt himself soften.  He tried to think about other things, erotic things, but he could only think about where he was and Grady’s dick.  He thought about the head of it.

“I’m almost there,” Grady said.  “Better hurry up.”

John opened his eyes to see Grady stroking himself in long motions before aiming his dick back up at himself.  Grady stiffened in the bed, raised up his ass from the cover, and began to shoot ejaculate up over his body.  The first shot went the farthest to hit the pillows, the next on Grady’s face, down his neck, his chest, and finally oozed out of the end and into his pubic hair.  Grady relaxed on the bed but John felt himself still ready to orgasm and began to stroke some more.  Grady reached out and put his hand down over John’s to stop him.

“You don’t get to orgasm,” Grady said.

“What?”

“You took too long.”

“Please, I hate having blue balls.”

Grady raised up his hand and brought it back down in a hard slap to John’s crotch.  John pulled his hand from his underwear in frustration, let it lay on his chest.  He thought it was over but then Grady raised up his hand and brought it down a second time, hit him more squarely on the balls and made John cry out in pain.

“What was that for?”

“To remind you of the competition and that you’re now my bitch.”

John started to turn away but Grady rolled onto his side and stopped him.  He pulled John back to the bed.  They looked up at the ceiling.

“Your first task is to clean me up.”

“What?”

“I’d have you lick it up but I don’t think you’re ready for that so I’ll let you use a towel.  They’re in the bathroom downstairs.  I’d hurry up before my father comes back inside.”

John got up to his feet.  His dick still straining against the fabric.  He walked to the door, thought to ask for some jeans but decided he was lucky to still be wearing his underwear.

“Don’t take too long and don’t jerk yourself off, that thing better still be hard when you get back.”

John unlocked the door, stepped out from the room, and broke into a run.  He took the steps easily though his cock bounced when he did.  He listened for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, then dashed for the bathroom.  He got a few towels and ran back as quick as he could.  When he got the bottom of the steps he thought he heard the front door open so he ran as fast as he could back up to the second floor.  He got to the bedroom door and was surprised to find it closed, and locked.

“Please hurry up and let me inside.  Your father is downstairs,” John whispered.

Grady unlocked the door, opened it a crack.

“Give me your underwear,” he said.

“What?”

Grady held out his hand.  John listened for more sounds in the house, decided he couldn’t risk being caught and that he couldn’t determine if his father was headed upstairs, or what he would do if he saw him.  He slipped off his underwear and handed them over.

“Get down on your knees,” Grady said.

John looked around again but decided he was naked and at Grady’s mercy so he slunk down to his knees.  Grady opened the door and John shuffled inside.

Part 1 / Part 3

Hazed on the Farm Pt. 1

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