Binky

For a year I lied to myself that I wasn’t smoking a lot, just when I had a drink, between writing chapters of my book, and the odd ocassions when I felt I needed one, but not a lot, not a pack a day like my father used to smoke.  It was the one bad habit, my worst habit, that my new boyfriend Dino hated.  Dino had become my rock in many ways, the healthy one.  He worked as a personal trainer, that’s how we met, and he always told me he worked so hard that he didn’t want to poison himself, aside from a few drinks.  He’d give me this look when he walked in on me in the office or when I stepped out of a bar or some event we were at together to have one.  It all built up to this one day as I sat typing I could hear him in the other room playing videogames with his friend Kyle.  I went to take one out and realized I had a few left so with it between my lips I walked out to find them on the couch.

They were sat in diapers and t-shirts, controllers in their hands.  Their feet conspicuously off the floor.  Kyle looked up to me for a moment then looked back to the TV where he continued to play as he crinkled his nose.  Dino did the same but he also waved his hand back and forth in front of his and faked a cough.  “Sorry,” I said before I held it behind my back, “but I’m really onto something.  Would you run out and get me some smokes?”  Dino rolled his eyes.  Kyle whispered something in his ear.  They both laughed.  I wanted to ask what was so funny but stopped myself.  “How about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please,” I begged.

“Well, what do you think Kyle?”

“I think we could use some snacks.”

“So it’s a deal?”

“Hmmph,” Dino replied.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t like encouraging you to smoke.”

“You’re not encouraging me.  It’s more like I’m feeding a habit, one I had before we met, so it’s not like you should feel responsible.  I promise I’ll quit when I finish this book.”

I took out my wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.  I stepped into the room to handed it to him and they both chuckled.

“What’s going on guys?” I asked.

“You’re standing on lava Mr. Butters,” Kyle said.

“Oh is that all,” I replied, “well use the rest for snacks.”

Dino took the money and pocketed it.  He had his own cash, his own job, but it didn’t feel right for him to pay for my cigarettes and at least this way they’d get something at the corner store.  I walked out of the room and back to my office where I sat at my desk and began to type.  I barely heard them leave the apartment, for a little while the silence annoyed me so I took out my headphones and put on some music in the background to listen to while continued to type and smoke like a chimney.  I was really into it.  I had this hope of completing my first novel.  I typed away for hours, smoked all of my cigarettes and it was only when I ran out that I wondered when they’d return.  I picked up the box, crumpled it, dropped it on top of my basket next to my desk that was full of balls of paper, all of them previous incarnations and notes of what I was writing.

When the front door of the apartment was opened I looked up as if I had heard the greatest sound in the world.  It was Dino and he was alone.  He had bags in his hands.  I could smell food.  Like a hungry dog I went out to find him in the dining room with a bag of fast food in the middle and several bags in hand that he carried away into the living room before I could see what was in them.  He kept looking at me the entire time so I knew he was trying to keep a secret from me.  I opened the bag and took out a fry.  It was still hot.  He rejoined me and sat across the table from me.

Cigarettes were no longer on my mind.  I was hungry.  So we sat and ate, made small talk.  I asked him what happened to Kyle and he told me that he’d gone home.  I tried to talk to him about anything except for my smokes.  But when we finished eating, as I licked the congealed bun and meat from my teeth, washed it away with the cold, sweet pop I had that urge again.

“So um,” I said.

“Yes?”

“What did you buy?  Did you buy me anything?”

“Maybe,” he replied coyly.

“What is it?”

“It’s a little bit of a secret.”

“When do I get to find out?”

“Come in the living room and I’ll show you, but you have to behave yourself,” he said.

This was a bit of an unusual thing for him.  He wasn’t one for secrets, neither was I.  In fact honesty and sharing was the best thing we had together.  I felt like I could tell him anything.  I felt like he knew he could tell me anything.  We wouldn’t judge.  We wouldn’t condemn.  We’d try to figure it out.  The ‘behave yourself’ part though was especially unique.  Usually I was the one who liked to start games like this.  I loved to surprise him and I usually took control of things.  It was turning me on a little so I followed after him into the living room.  He motioned for me to stand between the coffee table and the TV.  This really would be a surprise, I thought.  The bags were down on the floor, partially hidden from sight.  But instead of opening them he pulled his phone from his pocket and set it down on the coffee table facing me.

“What’s going on?  What’d you buy me?”

“Before I show you, here’s the cigarettes you asked for-” -he pulled the pack out and held them up- “-but if you want them we make a deal first.  You have to sign this contract on my phone.  It’s to quit smoking, but it’s not just any contract.  There are rules.  And there are punishments if you break them.  Kyle and I thought it up while we were out shopping.  The first one is that while you’re smoking you have to be obedient to me.  I know it’s usually the other way around.  I know how much you like to be the dominant one.  I like it when you are.  But, I’m worried for your health.  If you sign, then this is your last pack.  After this we work to wean you off.”

“How obedient?  What do you have planned for me to be doing?  I’m not really into sex slave contracts.  I’m not just going to do everything.”

“I know.  It’ll be a negotiation, but trust me, I have a plan for you.”

“What if I don’t sign?”

“I’ll love you the same, but you have to go buy your own and you can’t have what’s in the bag.”

“Is it something fun?”

“Maybe,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Will I like it?”

“Possibly,” he said.

He was even more coy.  This was entertaining to him as I stood there in front of him at his mercy.  He had my cigarettes.  Yes, I could go buy them but I wanted one right then.  But more than anything I wanted to please him.  I wanted to stop even if it was only for him.  I shifted on my feet, tried to scratch at the back of one calf with my other foot.

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“You could read the contract and find out,” he answered.

I looked into his eyes.  There were written contracts between men, I thought, the best ones though in principle are an agreement between two people.  There shouldn’t be anything in there that I couldn’t live with, nothing to hold over me that would keep me in complete submission.   That wasn’t the deal in our relationship.  Often I took the dominant role in the bedroom and in life, he was like a guiding hand who reassured, questioned, and helped me plan, but this, handing over power to him.  It was embarrassing and thrilling at the same time.  I felt the sweat run down from my shoulders and pool at the small of my back.  Okay, I thought as I blew out an exasperated sigh and bent down to sign, but as I did I couldn’t really see the words.  He dropped the pack on the table.  I got down on my knees to examine it more closely.  He twirled the pack.  I scrolled to the bottom.  There was the space to sign my name.  I did it.  I licked my lips as I reached for the pack, but he pulled it away.

“What’s going on?”

He took back his phone, saved the file, and he had the biggest grin on his face.  He put the pack in his pocket as well, then he leaned down with his elbows on his knees and looked me in the eyes.

“Did you really think it was going to be that easy?”

“Well yeah,” I replied.  “Let me have just one.”

“Nope, not until afterwards.”

“After what?”

“We have some things to take care of as part of the contract.  These cigarettes, I decide when and how many you smoke.  That’s the first rule.  You really should have read the contract.”

“Wait, let me see it again,” I said.

“Nope, now it’s time for you to be obedient.”

“If I had known that I wouldn’t have signed.  Maybe I should just go and get my own.”

“And break your word?  We made a deal.”

“Hey look,” I said, “if I knew I wouldn’t get one or that you’d be the one in control I wouldn’t have done it.  You tricked me.”

“You tricked yourself, now, let’s get one thing clear.  I’m in control now.  You will do what I say, when I say, how I say, until you stop this filthy habit.  I’m going to hold you to it.  Didn’t I mention there would be punishments for disobedience?”

“But-”

He waved off my rebuttal and instead he picked up the bags from the floor and put them on the table in front of me.  He looked inside them and his grin gave way to giggling and laughter.  I was doomed, I thought as I lowered my head in regret.  But then I felt it, my erection, as I shifted a little I felt harder than I had been in a long time, so hard it parted the fly of my boxer briefs and was right up against my jeans and leaking.  The sensitive tip rubbed course material.

“Actually, let’s go to the bathroom first,” he said.  “But before we do I want you to stand up and strip off all your clothing.”

I let out a grunt and sigh as I got to my feet.  I looked up to him, then back down to my feet as I slowly unbuttoned my shirt.  Normally it was no big deal to be naked but this was the first time he was telling me to strip in such a dominant way.  If he did it other times it was seductive but this.  I felt my fingers tremble a little as I undid the buttons.  I didn’t know if it was the lack of nicotine or some genuine fear but I did it.  I pulled the flaps out of my jeans, pulled it from my shoulders, then dropped it on the floor.  Next was my belt.  I unfastened it, pulled it from the loops, dropped it.  I unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them.  My hard dick was right there.  He laughed a little, amused this was turning me on.  I tucked it away, pulled my jeans down and off, dropped them on the pile I was creating.  My socks, foot to foot, I took them off, let them fall.  Last was my underwear.

Being naked shouldn’t be so humiliating, I thought, we’ve screwed in every room.  He’s seen me naked so many times.  I’ve seen him naked.  We’ve chased each other around, well no, I’ve chased him around with our erections bouncing, but this was something different.  This wasn’t sex and I wasn’t in control.  I was stripping for him as he sat there fully clothed.  I put my thumbs in the waistband, began to pull the fabric down.  I felt it slip over my ass, tug at my hard dick and made it bob up and down, over my knees, down around my ankles, one foot out then the other and they were off.  I dropped them too.  I looked up to him.  He shook his head.

“Such a messy boy,” he said.  “You would never let me make such a mess with my clothes.”

“I didn’t know what to do with them,” I said apologetically, “please, I’ll just pick-”

“Don’t bother, not right now, that’ll be one of your punishments later.  Right now I want you in the bathroom.  You’ve been at your desk all day and need a bath.”

He led the way.  I walked behind him with my dick bobbing with each step, through the hallway, into the bathroom.  He sat on the edge of the tub and turned the spigot, hot water poured out.  He plugged the drain and looked to me.  Without realizing it I had began to stand like I was ashamed.  There I was in front of my long time boyfriend and I was ashamed.  He adjusted the water.

“While we’re waiting I want you to stand with your hands behind your head and your feet apart.  Smoking is a bad and filthy habit. You’ve been a bad boy, very naughty.  If you’re going to grow up to be a man we’re going to have to regress you first so that we can make sure you deserve your privileges.  The first thing we’re going to do while the tub fills up is we’re going to cut your hair.”

“Wait I-”

“Are you being disobedient?  You already have a punishment for leaving your clothes on the floor and making such a mess.  Do you want to add to it?”

“No sir,” I mumbled.

“What was that?”

“No sir,” I said in a louder, clearer voice.

“Good,” he replied, “now let’s get that shaver.”

Being shaved was the easy part, all of my body hair, from head to pubes to toe, all fell on the floor.  He turned off the water after it had filled partially, looked back to me, motioned with his head for me to step into it.  I sunk down on my knees first, my butt cheeks opened and barely touched the water.  As my body adapted I sunk down into it until I was comfortable and I looked up to see him with a hand towel and bar of soap.  This was new.  I hadn’t used bar soap in ages.  I figured he intended to give me a thorough scrubbing.  He lathered up the bar until suds ran down over his wrists, down his forearms, and all of the way to his elbows.

“Open,” he said.

I knew at once what he meant.  He wanted to stick the bar of soap in my mouth.  It was the punishment I hated the most as a child.  I could take a spanking but soap, bleh, it tasted so bad.   I clenched my jaw and shook my head.

“Open,” he repeated as he moved it closer to my face. He pressed it against my lips, forced them apart and into my teeth.  That felt worse.  I opened my mouth and he stuck it inside.  I closed without biting down.  He shook his head.

“You’re only making it worse on yourself.  Now I’m going to have to give you an additional punishment for that mouth of yours.  I thought soaping it would do the trick but no, you have to refuse, well, I guess I’m going to have to think up something else, maybe a second spanking.”

“But-” I tried to speak with a mouthful of soap, the suds went down my throat and I choked a little, tried to spit it out but he held it there.

I could feel it on my tongue, a thick gunk, and the way it dissolved, filled the spaces under my molars.  My instinct was the pull in my cheeks to stop it from spreading but all it did was cause the suds to run down my throat.  It hit my stomach and I felt the urge to spit it out but he held it there so I just closed my eyes, let it happen.  I could feel it inside of me.  But it wasn’t just the soap, it was the feeling of being naked in the tub to our apartment, shaved, my mind was reeling but more than anything I felt this anger but all I could do was cry.  He pulled the soap from my mouth, my lips sputtered and I tried to spit more out.  He took hold of the back of my head and pulled me to his shoulder.  I cried and cried into his neck.  For a moment I felt relief, felt normal, but then he touched me, he touched my chest, slid it down over my stomach and for the first time he touched my penis.  And it was hard.

“Good boy,” he said, “but do you still want a cigarette?”

“Yes,” I said.

He pulled away from me and looked at me with a cross glare.  He raised the bar of soap again.

“You’ve been smoking for so long it’s ruined your teeth and I’m afraid I’m going to have to wash it out again.”  I squealed in fear.  But he continued to hold the back of my head and slowly, deliberately he moved the bar towards me and into my mouth.  “From now on that’s yes sir,” he said, “do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said around the bar in my mouth.

He pulled it out.

“What was that?”

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Good, I think we’re done with this for now.  Now we can put it to its more popular and more favorite use, getting your body clean.”

He touched my chest again and for a moment my body recoiled until it realized it had no place to go and instead I just sat there as he washed me.  Face, chest, arm pits, stomach, he washed them twice before he made me get up on my knees.  He washed my thighs first, then he washed my balls and my hard dick, and just when I felt enthused to try and push back against his hand for more pleasure he spanked me lightly on the butt and I opened my eyes to see he had an amused smirk on his face.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said.

“Yeah, but normally I’m the one who washes you,” I said.

He spanked me again.

“Sir,” I spat out.

He spanked me again.

“I’m sorry sir, normally I’m the one who washes you sir,” I said.

“Better,” he replied, “I know it’ll take some getting used to.”

Next was the shampoo, but since I didn’t have much hair on my head it was easy to do.  I rested my bum on my ankles as he finished washing off the soap.  I smiled.  He smiled.  But I could feel it, the craving for a cigarette.  I looked down into the water, then back up with my best puppy dog eyes.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I want a smoke, like really bad.  It’s been a couple of hours, just one, please sir.”

“Okay, we can do that,” he said, “after I get your dried off.”

He told me to stand then took a towel from the cabinet.  He dried me thoroughly, then had me step out before he wrapped it around my waist.  I could feel the knot on my hip and looked around for more clothing.  He put one arm around my shoulder and ushered me out into the living room where he picked up a bag.  He pulled out a brand new pack of white briefs.

“I don’t wear those,” I said, “sir.”

“Well, it’s these or that towel,” he said.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“No more smoking inside.  For tonight I’ll let you smoke on the balcony, but in the future you’ll have to go down to the parking lot to do it.  And you’re not allowed to litter, you have to save your butts.”  He pulled out a small, pink box.  It was for jewelry but now I’d be using it to collect the filters.  I groaned at it before I really thought about it.  He smirked.  “Normally I wouldn’t use pink to embarrass someone but in this case it’ll be cute.”

“Cute sir?”

“Well, for me, now have you decided is it going to be briefs or the towel?”

“For the balcony?  People will see me.”

“No laws will be broken.  You still want that cigarette and you can’t smoke inside.”

“Okay, the towel,” I said.

Briefs were too form fitting, I thought as I looked down to the towel only to realize it was one of the thin white ones and I could clearly see my penis against the cloth.  I groaned and asked for briefs but he shook his head.  I watched as he opened the pack of cigarettes.  I loved that feeling, opening a fresh pack and the smell of them, something like fresh raisins.  He took one out, then he walked me over to the sliding door and out onto the balcony.  It had gotten dark outside, the sun had set and it was probably ten o’clock at night but there were still a few people around.  We lived in those apartment buildings with the parking underneath in stalls.  There was a lane between the buildings but people were always walking by as the basketball courts were very popular.  I looked to him and he placed it between my lips.

“Oops, I forgot the lighter,” he said.

I moaned and he smacked my bum before walking off to get one.  There I stood on the balcony in just a towel with an unlit cigarette between my lips as I listened carefully for anyone to walk in front.  He came back a few moments later.  He held up the lighter and lit it for me.  It was a welcome feeling and yet to be standing there as I was, no pack in hand, no lighter.  He had done everything, it felt so humiliating, but in the end I felt I’d do almost anything for a drag.  He watched me intently.

“I’d give anything for a dry martini,” I said.

And without really thinking about it I had slipped out of the role of being subordinate to him as we stood in the partial darkness.  It was only when a car turned the corner and I was briefly caught in headlights that I looked down over myself and remembered the towel I was wearing and I saw him.  He wasn’t just staring at me.  He was waiting.

“Sir,” I said.

“Too late,” he replied and took the cigarette from my mouth.

I watched as he stubbed it out on the banister then held out the pink box towards me.  I took it, opened it, then watched as he placed the cigarette inside.  He promptly closed it and took the box out of my hands.  I looked him in the eyes as best I could.  He stared back.

“It’s not fair,” I said.

“You’re killing yourself.  How’s that fair to me?”

“But-”

And that’s when things took an unexpected turn.  He snatched the towel from around my waist and before I knew it I was down over his lap.  There I was, one grown man over another grown man’s lap naked and full exposed to all of our neighbors, the towel on the grating floor.  He made sure I was in place before he laid into me with his hand.  He gave me several hard, sharp spanks.  It was enough to put me back in my place.

“Please sir,” I begged.

“Please sir what?”

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to be a brat.  I know what I’m doing is wrong.  Please sir, can we go inside for this?”

He stopped spanking me.  His hand settled on my bum.  I could feel his fingers linger in my crack as he massaged my flesh.  Normally it would be the other way around.  Often for some trivial but intentional offense, something that we had talked about in correcting his behavior, but there I was naked and exposed.  He swatted me a few more times but when I started to unintentionally get louder with each one he stopped and pulled me from his lap.  I stood in front of him, my hand went back to feel my butt and it was already beginning to warm.  But worse than anything was my dick because I had left it exposed so I tried to cover it with one hand as I continued to rub with the other.  He shook his head then stood and pulled me by the wrist inside our apartment.  He closed the sliding doors behind us but in a way it was worse because now the room was lit and there I stood naked in front of glass.  He quickly closed the blinds to the door but I could still feel it, this kind of ghost, this feeling that I had been exposed, not just me, not just my penis, my shaved body, but my behavior and that my boyfriend spanked me.  He smirked to me then motioned with his finger for me to follow him to the couch where he sat and patted his lap.  I stepped to him, lowered myself, and he pulled me into position.

His hand on my butt, he stroked the sore flesh, cupped the curve of it, let me know just how naked and vulnerable I was to him.  He pulled back his hand and I knew it was coming, high over his shoulder there would be no stopping it.  He spanked me the first time and I let out a grunt.  The pain was negligible.  I barely felt it.  He struck again, then again and again, each time the feeling lingered a little longer and it spread.  There were two patches of pain on my butt, one for each cheek, but the pain spread through my body too, from my toes to my fingertips.  I breathed this quick, shallow gasps as I groaned, the pressure of my chest on his lap, I could feel myself as this weight, especially when I kicked up my feet and began to squirm.

“Keep still,” he said.

I froze for a moment, held my breath, and he laid into me some more until my hands were clenched into tight balls and my toes curled up, then he stopped and he lay his soothing hand on my bum.  I hadn’t begun to cry but I could feel it there lingering in me, this pain, not just physical but emotional.  He rubbed my butt carefully, the feeling that had spread through my body came back to the one spot for a moment.  He took hold of my arm and pulled me up to my feet.  I knew my face was red, my eyes were watery.  I looked down to him as I instinctively reached back to rub my cheek with one hand.  He smirked at me.

“But first,” he reached into the bag and pulled out the last thing.  It was a pacifier.  He held it up for me to see before he opened the package.

“What’s that sir?”

“It’s your new pacifier.  Instead of cigarettes you’re going to be sucking on this.”

“But sir-”

“I’m going to plant your feet in the corner until you’ve calmed down and guess what, that’s only round one.  Do you understand me?”

“Round one?” I pleaded, “sir,” I eked out.

“Bend down and open up,” he said.

I did.  He put the pacifier between my lips.

“This is your binky,” he said.  I groaned.  “Well, you still have your dirty clothes on the floor and we forgot your towel outside.  Go ahead and pick up your clothes and put them on the coffee table.”

I stepped away from him to where my clothes were.  I squatted down, fully aware of my balls hanging loose between my thighs, my cheeks parted and cool air hit my butthole.  I felt it again, this pain, and for a moment tears leaked out.  I wiped them away with the back of my hand before I picked up my clothes and set them on the table.  He cleared his throat and I knew at once that I had made a mistake so I carefully folded them, then put them back into place.  He got up and moved behind me, put a hand on my head and brushed over my hair.

“It’s okay boy, I’ll allow you that one mistake, but know that I expect better of you next time.  Are you ready for your second cigarette?”

Already, I thought, but the truth is I really needed one, especially a full one, so I nodded.  He took hold of my ear, pulled me up, then walked me to the corner.  He took one from the pack and held it where the walls met, then he pulled me right to it so my nose held it in place.  He rubbed my butt, rubbed my shoulders, rubbed my head.  It was so humiliating.  I began to cry.  When I tried to wipe away the tears he stopped me and told me, “hands at your side or on your head.”  My cigarette was right there but I couldn’t just smoke it.  It wasn’t mine.  Instead I had this pacifier, this binky in my mouth.

He walked away.  I heard him move through the apartment for the next ten minutes or so.  He put my clothes away, tidied up something or other, put the bags from the store away, then I heard it.  He was in the kitchen and he opened a drawer, moved some cooking utensils around.  He was looking for something.  I breathed deep through my nose and held my breath.  He was getting the spoon.  We had only used it a few times, well I had used it on him, just a little game when we were in the kitchen, but I heard the drawer slam closed and I knew he had it and he was going to use it on me.  He began to whistle as he walked back into the living room.  He set it down behind me on the coffee table, the familiar sound of wood on wood.  He walked over to where I stood and told me to take the cigarette I was holding up so I did.  He placed a hand on my shoulder to usher me back out to the balcony.

There I was completely naked, my butt red, my face red, and crying a little.  He took the pacifier out of my mouth, then the cigarette from my fingers and placed it between my lips.  He lit it.  I took a long drag, welcomed the feel of it, the way it burned and tasted, plus the rush of it.  He pulled me to him as he sat on one of the two chairs out there.  The last time it had been down over his lap for a spanking but this time he was being kinder, gentler as he pulled me along and he sat me on his knee.  I could instantly feel the pain in my butt though it wasn’t so bad, it was almost negligible the way my thighs held most of my weight.  His hand went to the small of my back and I carefully blew the smoke away from him.  He rubbed up my spine to my shoulders in this soothing way so I just relaxed, my knees wide, my arm went around his shoulders behind his head.  His other hand ran up my thigh, over where my pubes used to be and to my stomach where he slowly stroked until I stopped crying.

This time he let me smoke the whole thing and after he stubbed it out, then placed it in the pink box before replaced the binky in my mouth.  He led me back inside with the towel in hand.  He gave it to me and told me to take it to the bathroom hamper so I said, “yes sir,” and I began to move when he took hold of my arm.  “And bring back the bath brush,” he said.  I swallowed hard at that.  But my feet moved on their own.  I walked to the bathroom, put the towel in the hamper, retrieved the bath brush from inside the medicine cabinet.  It wasn’t until I got back and I saw him sitting there that I remembered the wooden spoon and there it was on the coffee table in front of him.  I walked to him, handed him the brush.  He patted the cushion next to him which took me by surprise, but it meant I wasn’t going to be spanked right away so I sat.  He reached to me, rubbed the back of my head, then he placed his arm around my shoulders.

“Smoking is more than a bad habit,” he said, “it’s dangerous.  You know it isn’t safe right bud?”

He took out the pacifier, set it on the table.

“Yes sir,” I said.

“So we’re going to try and break you of that habit, but I can see that you have some other bad habits as well so we’re going to work on those too.  You know I care for you right and I only want what’s best for you?”

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Good, because this next part is going to be very painful.  I know you’re going to feel like giving up, it’s going to be unbearable at times, but it’s also going to be good for you.  You need this.  I know you’re usually the spanker instead of the spankee but it’s time we dealt with these issues.  Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I replied.

He moved his hand up to the back of my head again, turned my head to face his.  I looked him in the eyes and for a moment I could see a little bit of pain, but then he became stoic as he looked at me and I felt it.  I felt his connection to me.  There I sat completely naked, but we were two adults, and yet I felt this need within me.  I wanted it.  I wanted to change my ways.  I wanted to be spanked.  I wanted to feel that pain and that relief.  He rubbed the back of my head and I knew he wanted to ask me again if I understood.  Instinctively I began to speak.

“Please sir, I know it’ll be painful but I need this,” I said, “I need to feel it.  I’ve been doing things so wrong for a while now, not just the smoking but that’s the most important part.  I know it’s important for me to change my ways.  I want you to spank me.”

He reached over with his other hand and wiped away some of the spilled tears with is hand before he pulled me back over his lap.  He adjusted himself and put me in place so that it was easy to hold my arms out of the way.  I felt him shift, his hand high in the air.  He struck me with the hair brush.  It was different than his hand.  His hand gave a little to the shape of my butt, the hairbrush did not.  Each time it pushed into my cheeks it dented the flesh.  Just within a few strokes the pain radiated out again, up my spine all of the way to my hands, all of the way to my toes.  He struck all over my round cheeks until I thought I couldn’t take anymore.  I began to cry.  I squirmed and moaned but he held me in place.

Just as I was about to disassociate from it he stopped.  My head throbbed, my body ached.  He pulled me out from under his arm, pulled me to my feet.  My hands went to my butt as I danced from foot to foot I rubbed away until the pain was almost gone then I felt it again.  My little dick and balls bounced back and forth as I shifted to try and find some comfortable spot.  There was none.  He picked up the pacifier as he stood so I opened my mouth.  I bit down on it.

“Back to the corner,” he said as he pointed the way.

I felt snot leaking from my nose so I wiped it with the back of my hand as I walked, then I carefully used the palms to wipe away tears.  My jaw began to jitter.  I put my nose in the corner, let my hands fall to my sides.  All over my body my skin turned pink.  I could feel it, this warmth all over me, it was so intense.  He got up, walked to me.  For a moment I thought he would touch me to try and comfort me but he didn’t.  He just stood there.  He watched me sulk for a moment, then he walked away.  I was alone.  I knew I couldn’t move from that spot.  And he let me stay there that time until my muscles began to ache, which wasn’t that long, then he came back and got me.  He led me back over to the couch, took out binky and put it on the table, swapped it for the spoon.  He pulled me down over his lap, this time he told me to plant my hands firmly on the ground which tipped me at an angle so that my butt and my thighs were vulnerable.  The spoon was quick and sharp.  I could no longer feel him move too much just to hit me.  It was little, recurring spikes of pain in my flesh as if I had been stuck by a thorn.

Over his knee, my hands planted firmly on the floor, I was beginning to feel the pain in my butt cheeks and I was covered in sweat.  It was everywhere on me, even the crack of my butt and right down at my asshole.  He was really taking to whacking my butt.  I shook my head, balled my feet, any little thing to remind myself that I was in control of my body, but I knew I wasn’t because there I was naked with my little dick and balls hung loose as I was being spanked.  He controlled every bit of it too.  He would stop when he wanted, not me, it wasn’t my choice.  He meant to make me feel pain and I knew it.  He stopped and for a moment I thought it was over, but then he rubbed my flesh.

“Now for this next set I want you to say, ‘thank you sir, may I have another sir’ and we’re going to do that until I’ve felt you’ve had enough.”

“Yes sir,” I said.

He spanked me and when my response didn’t come fast enough he did it again and harder.

“Thank you sir, may I have another sir!”

“Good start, let’s see how long you can keep that up,” he replied.

And that was exactly it.  It was this seemingly unending cycle.  I knew he wanted me to keep saying it, again and again, no matter how much my arms ached, no matter how my thighs throbbed, no matter how much my butt hurt.  He wanted to break me.  So I just kept saying it over and over even when my mouth went dry, when the words barely escaped my throat, until I was crying and heaving so much I couldn’t even form the noises in my chest.

Tears fell from my face and down onto my hands.  He stopped and pulled me up to him.  I lay on him, my head on his shoulders as I wept and heaved until I was empty.  He held onto me through all of it.  He held onto me as I trembled and shook.  He took hold of the back of my head and whispered soothing sounds into my ear.  I didn’t want a cigarette ever again at that moment, not if that was the price I’d pay.  He held me even when I fell asleep.

Some time later, I’m not sure how long, I awoke to find myself on my side on the couch with my feet on his lap, a thin blanket over me.  I turned over and looked down to him.  He almost looked as if he’d been spanked too and I knew at once he felt this pain for me for what he’d done.  I couldn’t quite say it but as I moved to him, as I sat up he leaned to me and we kissed on the lips as he stroked my face. When he started to pull away I pulled him closer and down on top of me.  He laid fully clothed on me, a blanket between us as we kissed.   I pulled his shirt from him and he was quick to take off his pants as I wrapped the blanket around both of us and pulled him into me again.  I could feel my hard dick and his as well but neither of us wanted sex right then, we just wanted to hold each other.  We kissed until we got tired, then he rolled me onto my side again and pressed his body along mine.  We fell asleep together and for the first time in a long time I felt safe and happy, and I didn’t feel the need to smoke, at least not right then.

PIG - Pretty Important Guy

Pretty
Important
Guy

Content Advisory: Contains scenes of non-consent, humiliation, spanking, finger penetration, masturbation, ejaculation, and degradation.

Being a large man has its benefits and problems, but one of the benefits is most people move out of my way, especially smaller dudes. I don't push people around, far from it, but it's usually just easier for them to move, so when I rounded the corner in the locker room to find a short, college guy there I just expected him to move.

Instead he stood there and looked me in the eyes, not being one to back down I stared back until he poked me in the belly and broke into laughter. There I stood in my underwear, white t-shirt tucked into my briefs on my way to the shower and this little guy poked me.

"I'm sorry, you look too much like the dough boy," he said, "laugh for me."

But I just stood there, embarrassed and angered, my hands balled into fists, my face turned red, but I just stood there with my towel over my shoulder as I tried to not yell or punch him. He poked me again, laughed more. I stepped closer and got in his face.

"Little brats like you need a spanking, that's the problem of the youth today, no spankings, no corporal punishment, can't even grab hold of someone in case it goes on the internet."

"Who is going to give it to me? Not you dough boy, just look at you, I'd whoop your ass."

Our threats had been made and for a moment neither of us yielded, but then somehow he declared himself victor and walked away. I shrugged it off and mostly forgot about it.

A few days later when I was back at the gym and working out on the bench press when two figures stepped beside me. I looked up to see the young man, ready to exercise in gym shorts and tank top, he stood next to a tougher looking friend who had tattoos.

"My friend wants to talk to you," the young man said.

"Look, I don't want any trouble, just let it be," I said.

"Oh, he doesn't want trouble," they mocked.

I sat up, wiped the sweat from my brow and looked to them as they waited with crossed arms.

"Give me both of your names, I'm reporting you for harassment."

"Roger," the first one said.

"Elliot," the second replied.

"Wait right here then," I said as I stood.

Even just by a few feet away I was twice their size, but the second one, Elliot, had a look in his eyes so I tried to stare back. He bit his lip and puffed up his shoulders so I flexed my arms a little, the only muscle that's impressive for me.

"Whatever," he said, and they both walked away.

I stood confused, eventually I went back to my routine, when I finished I went back to the locker room. I stripped off my exercise clothes, put my towel over my shoulder, and I was headed to the showers when I heard that familiar giggle. The locker room was otherwise empty, one of those off times during the regular business day, and I just felt it, this panic in my shoulders I hadn't felt since I was a boy. I'd have to confront them both, right there, in my underwear at a public gym.

"Where you going fat boy?"

It was Elliot. The words stuck in me like pins. It even made me wince. I turned to see them. Roger was in shorts stained with sweat. Elliot stood there shirtless, his muscled chest covered in tattoos.

"No, I told you he's the dough boy," Roger replied.

"What is it? Are you a fat boy or a dough boy?"

"Neither, just leave me alone."

"That depends, are you going to move out of our way from now on?"

I turned and started to walk away.

"If I have to come after you I'm going to give you that spanking you threatened to give my friend yesterday. Now get back over here and deal with us like the men we are."

I turned and walked right up to them, yeah I was an old man standing in front of them in my underwear, but I'd stopped being embarrassed about my body. Elliot looked me up and down. Roger held back laughter.

"Do you think you're a tough guy?" Elliot asked, "because I'm tougher."

"Both of you deserve a spanking," I replied.

That's when I made my second big mistake. I tried to grab hold of Elliot. I don't even know what I'd do after, I just reached for him. That's when he grabbed my pinky and bent it back. I cried out in pain, tried to get away, but as I turned he twisted which brought me to my knees. I whimpered. They laughed.

"I could beat you up old man, give you a spanking, but I'm not going to-"

"Thank you," I pleaded as he still held my finger.

"-but that's as long as you do something for me."

"Anything," I said as I expected he wanted money.

"Anything?"

"Did dough boy just offer anything?"

He let go of my finger and I cradled it.

"Assume the position over this bench," he ordered.

I did. There I was at my gym in the locker room over a bench with my big ass stuck out and vulnerable. Roger took hold of the waistband and pulled the cloth snug over my cheeks. Elliot ran his pointer finger between them to let the cloth settle into my crack and let me know just how vulnerable I was. They both laughed then they both swatted me at the same time, one used his left hand, the other his right, both cheeks felt it.

It had been a long time since I had been spanked. At first it didn't feel like anything, just these flat hands that made this clapping sound, but as they continued to strike me, after the shock had worn off, I realized the pain built up. Not just in my butt, my hands and knees against the hard, tiled floor, my belly against the wooden bench.

One of them took hold of my underwear and pulled it to my knees. There I was on all fours, the fabric stretched between my open thighs, my little dick and shrunken balls hung down to feel the cool air. My cheeks slightly open, they continued to slap them, each hit affirmed their shape and size. My butt was no longer this extra part of me, this function, a tool, something between my legs and my back.

My butt was in pain and it was getting worse. They spanked every inch of soft flesh, each impact confirmed the shape, the size of my butt and its ability to absorb the blow. They spanked me until the skin felt warm and tingly, little points of pain that radiated through my body. They spanked me until I lost control of my muscles and they twitched and spasmed without my control. They turned that part of my body against me. And I began to cry.

Cold droplets leaked from between my eyelids and down to my lips. I could taste the saltiness of my tears, my nose became stuffy. I had lost control, not only of the situation, a situation I could have walked away from, but of myself. This ball of pain in my stomach that I had unknowingly been carrying around with me, this tight ball of fear, it was like the breeding ground for snakes, it wriggled and squirmed up through me into these howls of desperation. The two young men finally stopped and I fell into this quiet sob, fully aware of just how humiliated I had been, unable to run I just lay there.

Roger stepped in front of me and squatted down, took hold of the hair on my head to turn it and look me in the eyes. He wiped the tears from my face with his free hand then licked them from his fingers as he laughed at me. This big grin on his face he wiped up more tears then put his fingers to my lips. With one last grasp at my pride I tried to refuse.

"This finger is going in your hole boy," he said, "the only lubricants are your tears and your spit."

I opened my mouth but he didn't push in all of the way, no he touched my lips as if to confirm I had opened them just for him and his finger. He ran it along the shape, smooth across the bottom.  He played with that little bump in the middle of my top lip.

When he touched his finger to my tongue it was salty and bitter, I wanted to spit it out or bite down on it, but I knew I was too vulnerable, too defeated, so he pressed inside all of the way to my throat. That's when I realized he didn't just want the spit from my mouth but the mucous from my throat as I began to choke he held me in place by my hair.

Two fingers, his two fingers, across my tongue, back and forth until I felt like I was going to pass out from lack of air and exhaustion. He let go of my hair, pulled his fingers from my face, but I just laid there over the bench. He walked around behind me, put his finger between my butt cheeks, right to the hole, and he pressed into that ring of flesh, right into me, inside, all of the way to his last knuckle of his pointer finger.  Slowly he pulled out, for a moment I thought it was over, then he pushed two inside, the pointer and the middle, both went deep and wide, wider than anything I had ever stuck up there. Wider than my own finger, wider than a thermometer. I let out a whimper and he pulled out.

He was done with me. They were done with me. Or so I thought. Roger pulled me from the bench and let me fall to the floor on my side, then he rolled me onto my back where he sat on my chest and took hold of my nipples and pulled on my soft breasts.

"Squeal piggy, I want to hear you squeal."

This little piggy squealed. He twisted and pulled on my nipples and soft man boobs until the pain became something else, this inescapable force. He only stopped when he realized I had stopped reacting, then he slapped my face and commanded me to open my eyes, which I did. I looked up to see him, his small framed body sat upon me in victory. He pulled down the front of his shorts to show me his erect dick trapped by the jock, the bulbous head peaked out over the waistband. He looked into my eyes as he pulled the pouch down under his balls to show me just how big and stiff it was. He took hold of it, stroked it, with just a few movements of his hand he bucked his hips and warm, creamy ejaculate covered my face. Elliot stepped beside him and looked down at me, let a long string of spit descend from his lips to mine.

There I lay on my back, covered in their fluids, my stretched out underwear at my ankles, exhausted and gasping for air. Roger fed me his cum from my face, then stood and tucked his dick back inside his jock where he adjusted it before he pulled the front of his shorts up. He was done with me. They were done with me, but somehow, somewhere deep in my soul I knew I wanted more.

Junkyard Dog Part 01

When I got the opportunity to travel for my work I took it as I Iove driving and at first it was a bit of an adventure but after two days on the road in a row the motels feel meaningless, the car like a cell, drive all day every day.  So I always decided to take the adventures offered to me, go forth boldly, I told myself.  But no matter how much courage you have, no matter how much drive, life has a funny way of slowing things down and putting things in perspective.

At least that’s what I tried to tell myself when my car’s engine seized up in the middle of farm country and I had to pull to the side of the road.  There was this feeling of anger and disappointment.  Had it been preventable?  Was it a mistake on my mechanic’s part or myself?  When did I take it to the mechanic last?  How many miles had it been?  Was I pushing the car too much?  I popped the hood, got out, walked in front, opened it and stood there staring at mechanical parts and wires.  I knew the concept of how a car worked, even did an oil change or two with my father, but this was real work, greasy and dirty work.  I was dressed for the office.

My first call was to work to tell them I broke down.  My second call was to the company representatives I was supposed to meet that day to offer insurance policies.  After that it was the long, annoying call to my car service agency who took some notes then transferred me to a towing agency.  I was surprised when I got a young man’s voice on the phone, a young man who had that ring of sincerity.  I told him where I had broken down and gave him a description of my car and myself.  Then I waited.  I tried to do work, tried to think of things I needed to do, but there was so little to contemplate because I knew if I just adjusted my schedule a little there would be little inconvenience.

The tow truck pulled in behind me and I looked up into the rear view mirror.  Great, I thought, the rough world of blue collar workers.  I prepped myself for a heavy set, beer guzzling, old, and white man to waddle up to my car, bark a few orders, then take over as he towed my car back.  I’d have to sit in the cab and pretend like I didn’t exist just so he wouldn’t suspect me of being the gay deviant I am.  So when I looked in the side mirror and saw none of those things I was surprised.  He was handsome and young, with a head full of hair that bounced easily then settled into place with barely a stray.  I looked up through the window to him.  He had a handsome face, chestnut colored eyes.  He motioned for me to lower the window so I did.

He asked me what had happened and I told him.  We went through a few tests together, nothing got it to start, so he told me to wait in the cab while he did what he needed to do to tow it.  I collected my bag and my suitcase and did just that.  The cab was clean and new, barely smelled of anything, maybe leather.  There’s hope yet, I told myself, maybe I’m not stuck in the backwoods just yet.  He moved back and forth from the cab to outside as needed and in five minutes later we were on the road again, this time pulling my car.  And there was this kind of silence between us.

At first I felt like an alien, so constructed in my suit and tie, so put together.  Please have mercy on this soft salesman, I thought, I’m in a strange land and I don’t know anybody.  My sins are my own, I promise I won’t even look at anyone sexually.  I won’t have sex with anyone.  It’ll be like I was never here.  I said all of those things to myself and yet, well, I kept looking at him.  Because he was beautiful.  At first it was little glances, just to check out his boots, his jumpsuit, but then it was the little things like the name tag: Spike, and the bracelets of leather cord and fine chain with these little charms.  He wore three necklaces, a cross, a pentagram, and a class ring.  He had tattoos on his hands, his forearms, and his neck.  He had blemished his skin and yet I wanted to know where else they were.  Did he have them on his muscled chest?  Did he have them on his thighs?  Maybe one of those whimsical joke ones on his ass.  I bit my lip and tried to think of something else and yet there was nothing else and before I could stop myself I just started talking.  I told him about myself, about my schedule and my business, I told him about my apartment in the city and how I like to have cookouts on my deck next to my hot tub.

That was the final straw.  I thought I saw he had gotten bored, or at least tired of pretending to be interested and he had this half annoyed look on his face so I just shut up.  Why did I have to say anything about the hot tub, the deck, the apartment?  I should have kept my mouth shut and my stomach started to twist as I sat there.  He was going to overcharge me on principle alone, but now that I had told him how about my life he knew, or could guess how much money I have and he’d really have me.  I’d have to pay him anything just to get out of there.  Just shut up, I told myself.

“How much farther is it?”  I kicked myself on the insides for opening my mouth.

“Am I boring you mister?”

“What, oh no, it’s just, I’m nervous about how this will effect work and when I get nervous I talk a lot and when I talk a lot I say the wrong thing.”

“It’s just up the road here,” he said.

“Great,” I said, now just- “Do they let you work on cars with all of those bracelets and necklaces?”

I had done it.  I had said the one thing I was thinking.  I was sunk.  But he let out a laugh, ruffled his hair, then looked to me.

“Is that why you’ve been staring at me?”

There it was.  I had been staring at him, that’s why I kept talking, because if I talked that meant eye contact, the social practice of building a relationship with another person.  It was how I did my business, to notice the way others interact and mirror back, even change up, that interaction to get what I wanted from them, sell insurance.  I had this whole theory about it, social function, introduction, handshake, small talk, a joke, eye contact, and if the person seemed okay with it, especially if the other person started first, touching each other, those little gestures of a hand on the shoulder and forearm.  I did none of those things.  I had been staring at him, consuming him with my eyes.

“Yes,” I said coyly.

“See something you like?”

His question hit me square in the chest.  I sputtered and ran through the options of answers but I couldn’t think of one fast enough.  What kind of answer did he want?

“I know it’s weird but I’m kind of a collector of things.  It’s not necessarily something I believe so much as people I’ve known.  But don’t worry, I don’t work on cars.  I mean I know how but I’m more of the retriever guy.  Do this, get that, fetch a car, I’m more of a people person.”

“Oh,” I replied.

And I felt like at that moment I was sitting next to my doppelganger, a person just like me but with a different life.  He had the tattoos I always wanted.  He had the ability to work on cars.  He was beautiful and yet when people saw him they knew who and what he was.  When they saw me they saw a tool.  I had carefully tailored my image and yet there was nothing unique about me, my construction was to look like someone else.  I wanted to tell him right then but I saw the sign for garage and fell silent.  For once I had nothing to say as he pulled into the lot, drove to the office and told me to wait inside.  I got out with my bags and carried them in to find the craggily old man I had expected to get my car.  He looked me over, then sat and picked up some papers.

“So uhm,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“No I was just, I mean, I um, well, I think it’s Spike there, he just dropped me off and well, I came in here and I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk with you or wait for him, and well, I have to get back on the road.  You see I’m an insurance-“

“You’ll have to wait for Spike,” he said, “I’m going on a smoke break.”

He got up and walked out of the room.  “And fuck you very much,” I mumbled to myself as I looked around at the walls and noted the photographs of a sponsored baseball team as well as pictures of family, cutouts of cartoons from newspapers, and one trophy fish missing an eye.  I was about to laugh to myself when Spike came in through the door with a clipboard in his hand.  He told me that they’d have to look it over first and run some tests, then they’d give me the options.

“But the thing is, and I’m truly sorry for this, but we have a bunch of work that needs to be done today and well, you’ll probably have to stay the night.”

“What?”

“At a motel, is there one you prefer?”

“I don’t know the motels in the area, but something mid-level like a Cloud Nine or something, I don’t have a lot of money but I’m not sleeping with the fleas.”

“No, I understand,” he said.

“Now your car service company said something about a loaner car, but we ain’t got much like that.  I mean we have a few cars we loan to people but well, it’s just for people to use locally.  We don’t want to chase anybody down.”

“No, I can understand that,” I replied.

“Okay, well, unless you plan on driving around I guess I can take you to the hotel,” he said.  “Just let me get changed into some street clothes.”

“Sure,” I replied.

The rest of the journey was in silence, air conditioned silence in a two year old Cadillac.  I no longer looked at him.  I just sat there contemplating where I had gone wrong and I started to think about the mini-bar.  I could wreck a mini-bar right about then.  I’d start with the clears then move to the browns and- it was happening again.  No work, nothing to do, so my answer was to drink.  I shook off the notion and before I could stop myself I was talking again.

“Where do people go around here?  Are there any bars?”

“I didn’t think you’d be the bar type, well not local bars.”

“I know.  I should be drinking a martini and laughing about the stock market but-“

“No, I just meant, well, you seem like a stay at home guy,” he said.

“No, well, actually, I’m a stay at work kind of guy.  Because when I go home, when I’m alone, well, I drink, and things have been going really well for me recently.  I don’t want to fall down that rabbit hole.  So maybe if I go out-“

“Do you have any other clothes?”

I looked over myself.  My shoes wouldn’t survive a hay covered floor like I imagined the bars there had.  My tie would get too many looks.  And when I rolled my eyes when I asked about the wine and the bartender told me they have two kinds, red and white, well that would get me beat up.

“Nothing I can wear,” I said.

“Well, I’ll loan you some,” he said, “you’re about my size.”

“Actually, could we go somewhere and I could buy some?”

“No problem,” he replied.

He pulled into one of those chain dollar stores and we went inside together.  He showed me where the jeans were then we walked around the store and I got other things like junk food and even a paperback novel and playing cards.  We were walking around when he stopped in the pets section and went over to the bowls.  He squatted down and picked one up.

“Do you need a new bowl for your dog?” I asked.

“No, I’m thinking of adopting a new one,” he said, “pick out some chew toys you think a puppy might like.  I’ll pay for them.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I said, “company card.”

“Great,” he replied, “get a couple then.”

“This one looks cute,” I said taking one, a stuffed giraffe, from the metal rod, “and this one, and I like this one.”

“Nice,” he replied before taking his cell phone from his pocket.  He sent a quick text message then returned his attention to me and crossed his arms in playful thought.  “Do you know what you need if we’re going to the bar tonight?”

“We?”

“You need some boots, not expensive ones, and since I know how you feel about wearing other people’s clothes we should get some here.”

“Okay,” I said, and we walked to the boots section where he picked out a pair for me.  It felt weird following him around because I kept thinking about what other people thought.  These were the type of people I had left behind.  These were the people I had grown up with.  They didn’t like me.  And I didn’t like them.  But being with Spike somehow made it okay.  He had this charm about him that I thought would ease all contact between me and them.

I paid for everything and after I loaded the trunk he got a response text message from someone.  He laughed a little and looked to me as I got in the passenger seat.  “You won’t believe it,” he said, “I’ve got to pick up a dog crate for someone.  We’ll have to put it in the back seat.”

“Right now?”

“Do you mind?”

“No,” I said, “it’s fine.”

And yet I felt this nervousness as it felt like he was dragging me along through this town, farther and deeper into it than I would like, that I felt comfortable seeing.  He drove to the opposite side of town, down a dirt road and into the forest a little to a cabin.  The title of every horror movie about cabins and featuring cabins in the title flashed through my brain, and yet he got out and seemed so casual.  I looked around from the cage with the baying hound to the window where a candle burned.  This was just like where I grew up.  The front door opened and a young man stepped out, shirtless and barefoot, the jeans barely clung to his bare hips, no underwear.  His hair hadn’t been cut in years so it almost reached his shoulders in this shaggy half combed disorder.  He laughed and held out his arms for a hug as he walked to Spike.  They hugged, I heard flesh slap flesh for a moment before they stepped to me and I was introduced.  His name was Luke and they had been best friends for a long time, “since before our peckers had hair,” as Luke put it.  He led us to where the cage was, said he had just cleaned it and dried it, which it looked like he had, then I watched as they carried it to the car.  I just stood there with my hands in my pockets.  They had looked at each other, shrugged, then they did it.  And I just stood there.  

When I got back into the car I felt a bit of a dolt, you know one of those funny sounds The Three Stooges make when they are hit on their heads, well I felt like that as they loaded it in the backseat.  I could tell there was effort involved.  But when he got back into the car he didn’t say anything just drove on and took me to my motel.  When we pulled in front of the management office he pulled out his cell phone and looked at a message and laughed before telling me to go rent a room and he’d get my stuff.  He started to type as I left him. 

The hotel was the kind of place that had once been the five star local, the type of place that existed for large families to stay for the weekend while visiting the lake.  It was the type of place where people partied in the 70s with rails of coke and lots of polaroid pictures of naked antics.  And now the old timers worked hard to keep it running as best they could, the slow gathering of dirt and cracks were overlooked by their poor sight and sense of nostalgia.  The desk attendant was an old, bald man who chewed on an unlit cigar and talked out of the corner of his mouth.  He rented me a room easy enough but nothing was run through right away, they took an impression.  How the hell did they get away with this?  I might not see the charges for days, I stopped myself short of business advice, handed the guy my card, took the key, went outside and moved the car. 

The room was on the second floor, there was a wooden staircase on both sides of the front of the hotel, my room was on the second floor near the middle.  I was grateful that Spike helped me carry everything up and inside.  Just over the threshold I stopped to look around, the whole room was larger than my first apartment.  There was a lounge area, a dining area with bar, a small kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedroom doors.  The bedrooms themselves were actually separate from the hotel room.  Who would have thought some backwoods place would have spacious accommodations.  In the city a place like this would be a couple thousand dollars, especially with all of the space, but here, yeah, it was a little worn around the corners but it was still nice to have.

Spike set everything on the bed then sat and scratched behind his ear.  I wasn’t sure if he was going to stay or go as I thought he had done everything I needed and yet I liked having him there so I didn’t mind if he stayed.  He laughed and sent another message before looking up to me.

“Go get a shower,” he said, “we’re going out.”

“We’ll be irresistible,” I said.

“Every woman will want to dance with us and every guy will be jealous of us,” he said.

I went into the bathroom and closed the door, stripped, then got into the shower.  The warm water relaxed my muscles, the sound of the spray made me forget the sounds of the world.  There was no work, there were no clients, this was how life was supposed to be lived, well part of life.  I cleaned myself thoroughly, and by the time I stepped out and picked up a towel I felt like a tube, as if everything could pass through me.

When I stepped out of the bathroom I was surprised to see that not only was Spike still sitting there but that he had turned on many of the lights, got himself a drink, and turned on the television.  There were signs of life and it was a nice feeling even if he was a bit messy.  I cleaned up after him then went to my suitcase and opened it.  For a moment I remembered that I thought I had set the zipper towards the wall and away from the chair but this way I had to stand so that, so that Spike could see me in my towel.  I smirked at the thought and laughed it off as wishful thinking.

So I kept my butt towards him and just like I had done all of my life I went through the skilled art of keeping my towel wrapped around my waist while pulling on a pair of underwear.  It’s a tricky thing to do, especially so you don’t trip over yourself.  I did it with ease and even kept the towel wrapped around my waist as I pulled out the new pair of jeans.  That was trickier and I actually did almost fall over, the towel landed on the ground and I hopped around a little.  It was a funny sight.  You might have seen it online.  Anyway, I got them up and finished dressing, even down to the cowboy boots and flannel shirt, looked to Spike who sat doing something on his phone.

“Are we going?” I asked.

“In a minute,” he said.

I waited that minute and then we left the room.  We walked for a few feet and were descending to the landing between floors when he spoke up.  I was surprised and a little embarrassed by the topic.

“So you still wear tighty whities?  I would have thought it was silk boxers.”

“Not for me,” I replied.

“I’m not sure if I could handle being all held like that, but I guess when you’ve got a, you know, that it helps keep the little fella from banging around.”

“Little?”

“I saw what I saw.  That towel wasn’t doing much for you.”

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

When we got to the car I stopped but he kept walking.  I was partially insulted by making the joke in public but I wasn’t offended so I stood confused.  He got about five feet away and turned to me then motioned for me to follow and started to walk away again.  I ran a little to catch up and tried to walk in stride with him.

“Aren’t we taking the car?”

“Naw, this is the only bar in town, right next to the hotel so if people get too drunk they can just screw there.  That’s how my mom and dad met.  I was conceived in that very room.”

I saw what he was doing, making fun of the way I seemed to react to everyone in town.  And yet there was this kind of humor to it because I imagined it was hard for him too.  Was I the person who escaped?  Did he want to be me at some time in this life or like me?  Was I his failed dream?  Just go with the flow, I told myself.  And I walked along with him.  We arrived at this large country bar and grill that had two sides, one for fighting and one for fucking, no really, it was one for dining and one for drinking.  We ended up at the bar.  

One shot of bourbon and one beer each just to start the night.  The bar was crowded with people at the pool table, at the bar, at half of the tables.  All of them were eating so I knew it had to be the food.  A jukebox in the corner played loud Honky Tonk music, and I started to notice most of the people were in their fifties and sixties, dressed in their finest duds and reliving their youth.    

“So who you looking to take back to your room tonight?” he asked.

“What?” I asked, then it kind of caught up to me, “everyone here is over forty.”

“Aren’t you over forty?” he asked.

“Watch it, you know what I mean, they’re in their fifties… sixties?”

“It’s senior citizen night,” he said.

“Senior citizen night at a country bar, now I’ve seen everything,” I replied.

“Senior citizen night at the Tiger Fish Lake Country Club,” he corrected.

“Country club?” I asked but he didn’t respond and paused for a moment.  It was another of my ill assumptions, one of my judgements.

“Who are you looking for dudes or ladies?”

Dudes or ladies, was he trying to be subtle and ask my sexuality?  It was cute and I really wanted to say something.  I really wanted to tell him dudes and yet that fear of him suddenly turning on me, I pushed the thoughts from my mind and decided to have a little fun with him, test him.

“All these old people around I might just end up taking you back to my room and shagging the hell out of you,” I said.

“Get enough beers in me and we might just do that,” he replied. "But not with your little dick. I'd need a man hung like a horse, then I might consider it."

My eyes bulged at the thought of him taking dick. There was no way. Was there? Straight or gay we decided to drink and the more we drank and the more of his friends started dropping by and soon I was paying for a few guys.  But when the women got involved it got to be more fun.  I wasn’t just this closet homosexual.  I was one of the guys, drinking, and laughing.  That’s when I was asked to dance by one of the women.  I refused at first but eventually she dragged me and the rest of them up there.  So we did it.  We drank and laughed and told dirty jokes.

Line dancing was a lot of fun, and I made small talk with a few of the cowboys and their wives, even passed out my business card when they asked.  It was a party and we left there with this bond between us, this kind of rubber band feeling that we didn’t want to be too far away from each other, even when we took turns pissing in the back alley, it was casual.  We made it back to the room and moved to the couch.    We sat next to each other, both half drunk.  We looked into each other’s eyes and that’s when I felt his hand at my neck.  I knew his arm was back there but I didn’t expect his hand to gently touch my neck.  He ran his finger up the back of my head and felt the way it bristled.  Down was smooth but up, I could feel it and he could feel it, the way the hairs moved between his fingers it tickled both of us.  And I knew.  I knew he was going to kiss me.  I wanted it so bad.  He started to move and I closed my eyes.

The hand on the back of my neck, he pulled me into his lips and he kissed me.  I tried to kiss back but eventually I gave myself over to him and that’s when I felt his right hand on my crotch.  He undid my belt and unbuttoned my jeans and was about to reach into my underwear when I stopped him.

“I’m not-“

“Don’t worry about it, I saw your little pecker.  It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, unless you want to be embarrassed.  Do you boy?”

“Please,” I begged.

He moved over me for a moment, nose to nose, then he grabbed hold of my feet and took off my boots, my jeans, ripped open my flannel shirt and pulled it from my arms until I was in an undershirt and briefs.  He laughed at me and I looked up at him.

“Your skin is green,” he said, “don’t you know you’re supposed to wash flannel boy?  I’m going to have to give you a spanking and then a bath before we can have too much fun.”

A spanking and a bath?  But I didn’t have time to think because he took hold of my ear and pulled me from the couch, dragged me to the a full length closet mirror.  He stood behind me and made me look into it.  I saw us, our two bodies intertwined and he looked over my shoulder at the both of us as he grabbed my little pecker and my balls.  He bit my shoulder with a kiss.

“What are you?” he asked.

“I’m a boy,” I said.

“What kind of boy?”

“I’m a naughty boy,” I said.

“And what do naughty boys get?”

His hands went to my ass and he grabbed both cheeks.  I jumped a little and so did my dick.  It was poking out from my body and it looked tiny in the reflection, barely noticeable, until he took hold of it, separated the shaft from my balls and tucked it along my left thigh.  With his other hand he spanked me on my left cheek and bit my neck again.

“What are you boy and what do you deserve?”

“I’m a naughty boy and I deserve to be spanked,” I said.

He was quick after that confession to pull me by the hand to the bed where he placed a boot on the frame and held his knee in the air.  Actually over the knee, I thought, but it was too  late because he put me over it with ease and soon I was looking down at the floor, cut in half with just his thigh holding me in the air.  I let my hands fall down past my head as all of the blood rushed to it.  Just the feeling against my stomach hurt but when he brought down that first hand it caught me by surprise.  There was this sharp pain but it didn’t linger and for a moment I almost laughed it off until he spanked me the second time, then the third time, and he lit into me with a flurry of spanks.

There I was over this younger man’s knee in the air, my feet and hands unable to touch the ground, dressed only in briefs, blood rushed to my head, hands, and butt cheeks.  That pain began to build and throb, little nerves went out through me and back to my butt.  It was humiliating and embarrassing, but it was just what I had wanted.  And for a moment I felt relief, but that was only to pulled my underwear up between my cheeks so that he could get at the reddening flesh.  He spanked all over each cheek, from the top of the mound to the creases between my thighs.

The pain had this kind of ebb and flow.  It would concentrate in one area for a moment, my mind would be thinking of just that one spot and then it would move and go somewhere else, usually back to my butt.  He paused again, then set me down.  There were tears in my eyes and I hoped that the little game was over, at least for a little while, but he just rolled up his sleeves and secured them before hauling me back over his knee.  This time my little undies were dragged down over my thighs and hung for a moment at my ankles until I kicked them off because the pain, the feeling of humiliation.  I began to kick and scream as he beat my ass, not just cry, I sobbed and heaved over his knee.  No dignity, no feeling of self, he stood me back up and looked me in the eye.

“That’s how we do it around here city boy,” he said.

“I’m not a city boy,” I muttered.

He took hold of my dick, “You may have been born in the woods but you’re a city boy.  I saw it right away.  You’re soft, ain’t nothing wrong with that, but you’re not weak.  Oh no, soft things don’t break as easily as hard things do.” 

“You don’t think less of me?”

He wiped the tears from my cheeks, then pointed to the corner.  I looked for my briefs to see where they had gone and he was quick to slap me on the ass and tell me to focus on my punishment.  He walked me to the corner with a hand on my shoulder and placed me there.  Two walls meet, it’s a corner, and there I was buck naked with this country boy, this younger man, who had just spanked me and brought me to tears.  I shuttered and cried some more and when that feeling seemed to be gone, when I felt like it was over and he might just move on to something else, that’s when he took me by the ear and pulled me to the bed and across his lap.  

My hard dick on his thigh, one leg on either side, my cheeks parted as my dick was trapped there in view and easy access.  He lit me up again, a burst of spanking and I cried.  With every fiber of my being I cried and cried until the pain somehow became tolerable and I just stopped, that’s when he told me to get down on the floor and take off his boots.  I slid to the floor and took off each boot.

“Smell ‘em,” he said.

I did.  I smelled his feet.  And when he told me to take his socks off I did that too.  I licked them, I massaged them.  It didn’t matter when they were cleaned last.  I did it.  I licked his feet.  He took off his jeans and I went back at them.  Slowly he pulled me up his body to his crotch where his hard dick stood firm and through the little hole in his boxers.  It was twice the size of mine.  I started to move for it but he pushed me away.  I tried again.  He pushed me away.  We looked each other in the eyes and I knew this was his little game for me.

“Does puppy want a bone?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” I said.

He slapped me playfully across the face.

“That’s not how puppy’s speak.  Only bad puppies pretend to be boys.  You want my bone.  Are you a bad puppy and I do I need to spank you or are you going to speak for me?”

I barked.  It was a little yap, but I did it, then I did it again.  I barked and climbed with him farther onto the bed where he pulled me to his dick.  My lips to his balls but I didn’t open them, no he wanted obedience.  Not until he said lick, then I did it.  I licked, I sucked, I fondled.  He started to play with my hole, a dry finger at first, but he licked it and slowly each time shoved a little more into me until I knew how close he was and that soon he’d want the real thing.  He pulled me aside and to the mattress before he got behind me and to my surprise ate out my ass.  He didn’t just lick.  He didn’t just spit.  He ate.  His tongue penetrated me.  I wanted it so bad I reached back and pulled my cheeks apart.  He opened me so by the time he got up to his knees and stuck his dick against me I was ready for him.  He pushed inside to the balls, left it there for a moment as he kissed me over the shoulder.  He pulled it out, pulled away, but then he was on me again and in me.

My little dick rubbed between my thighs, slapped against my belly as he held onto me and he fucked me into the bed face first.  His hands pushed down on the small of my back and my knees went wide.  He thrust into me with power and determination, his hard dick was like steel, his hands felt like claws as he scratched up my back.  He had me.  My parted cherry red ass, I reached to feel his balls, feel his thighs.  He stuck it in deep.  I felt it.  That spasm as he filled my insides.  He took hold of my head and my shoulder and rolled me onto my back with his dick still inside me.  I looked up into his eyes and he put his hands down on either side of my head.  He leaned down slowly.  His lips brushed mine.

“What are you?”

Boy?  Puppy?  Did he want a quick thank you sir or a bark?  There was one good, honest answer that came from my heart.

“I’m yours,” I replied.