Neighbor Kid's Buddy
(Shane's View of the Story)
by ds elliot
The story of discipline and punishment -- responsibilities and consequences.
All rights reserved. This story may not be distributed on or linked to any other sites including pay sites without the express permission of the author.
Copyright 2004.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between two young men. This is a story of forced sexual contact and discovery. If you are not of legal age in your area to read stories of this nature or if you are offended by stories of this nature, please navigate to another site and stop reading now.
I would appreciate your comments, suggestions, and constructive criticisms. You can contact the author at: dselliot28@yahoo.com
my thoughts about this experience....
It's true. He made me the man I am today. When you think about where I was just three years ago, it really is an amazing feat. I never could have made the changes I needed to make without his help, guidance, direction, consequences, and rewards. He made me see what I was, and what I could be. No one had ever taken the time to paint me a clear picture of where I was headed back then. It's not because my parents didn't try. I just wasn't interested in listening to them. For some I reason I couldn't see it for myself until he made it crystal clear to me. He was right. I was a mess back when this all started. I was lazy, self centered, rude, mean, irresponsible, and self destructive. I really was only steps away from serious problems. I thought my biggest problem when this all started was that I could end up getting kicked out of my house. The bigger problem that I couldn't see or didn't care to see was just how close I was to serious jail time and a life of crime and punishment. Truth be told I was damn lucky I hadn't spent more than a couple nights in jail to that point. I'd been questioned by the police on more than a few occasions for vandalism and theft, but to that point I hadn't been caught. It really was only a matter of time, but I didn't care and didn't realize how close I was to being an inmate in one of the state prisons and really fucking up my life.
This story starts when I was about to be kicked out of my parent's home, but I want to take you back to when I first met him. I'd been messing around over at my buddies place. My buddy told me that he'd worked for his neighbor doing yard work the previous two days. The work didn't appeal to me as much as the cash my buddy had in his pocket. The guy paid him $10.00 an hour. My buddy had $150.00 in his pocket. That might not seem like a big deal to you, but at 15 that was a huge sum of money. I wanted some of that for myself and told my buddy. I got to work for the guy the following weekend. He paid us cash each day when we finished. I couldn't wait to go back. The guy was really cool. He fed us lunch and had tons of soda for us while we worked. He was a good guy. I really liked him. The neat part about him is that he worked right along with us. One other cool thing was the backhoe he had that first weekend. He let both of us drive it around the yard. We got to dig up plants and small trees and level the dirt. At 15 it is pretty cool to drive anything, and that little thing was the best. My buddy and I talked about that for days.
I don't know what made my buddy and I decide to spy on his neighbor. Probably it was just natural curiosity. We both talked about him not having a girlfriend or ever seeing any women at his house. I don't know if we suspected he was gay at that point or not. I guess we just wanted to know more. A few weeks after he put in the hot tub we saw him kissing a guy. He didn't know we were watching. My buddy and I wanted to see him do more as we both commented to each other how sick it was to be kissing a guy. We didn't see anything more than the kissing, but we let our imaginations run wild with thoughts of what was happening inside the house next door. I was probably 17 or 18 at the time we learned he was gay. Our favorite past time was making jokes about him. I don't know what started that behavior, but I suspect it was partly me being a loud mouthed jerk, male bravado, and an effort to distance myself from the guy. Just two years before I bragged about how much I liked the guy and how cool he was. I didn't want anyone to think I was a fag too. Our crude jokes escalated to loud and rude comments about fags whenever we'd see he was entertaining outside. By that point my buddy and I spent most of our time smoking weed and drinking so while we knew what we were saying, we really didn't give a shit. Who cared what the fag neighbor thought. Who cared if we embarrassed the fag neighbor. We obviously didn't care that we probably embarrassed ourselves more. We didn't see it that way. In some ways I suppose we were egging him on -- trying to get a reaction out of him. He just ignored us and our comments. If it had come down to a fight I thought my buddy and I could take him easy -- two on one. Either of us alone would likely have gotten the shit beat out of us because he was bigger than both of us. That was another weird thing back then. I had a stereotype picture in my head of what gays looked like. It sure as hell wasn't a picture of him. He was strong, well built, well muscled. The picture I had was of this limp- wristed hair dresser or something... I don't know. This guy was a contradiction. He looked all man and acted all man. I thought fags were pansies. If I'd have taken the time to think about it I probably would have kept my mouth shut, but I didn't think. I didn't think about anything more then where the next beer or bowl was coming from or which bitch I'd fuck next.
My buddy got into trouble with the cops at his 18th birthday party. We were celebrating both our birthdays though I'd turned 18 four months earlier. We had a party for my birthday too, but we used any excuse to throw party. It was loud and out of control, but that's what parties were supposed to be. To out way of thinking it wasn't a good party until the cops came to bust it up. The cops did come. My drunken buddy takes a swing at one of the cops... stupid move. He spent the rest of that night and the next two days in jail because it was the weekend. The rest of us viewed him as our hero -- railing against the system and the authority figures. If I could have managed a sober thought maybe I'd have seen it as a warning of worse things to come for both of us.
What was I like? What was I into back then? I thought I was the coolest thing to walk the planet. I was hot shit. No one messed with me. I talked the talk and staggered the walk. I wasted my senior year. I don't think I ever went to school -- when I actually did go -- without being stoned or drunk. I was a bully. I picked on anyone who didn't meet my standards, as long as they were smaller than me. I stole shit to buy booze and weed. I vandalized the school and houses and cars and buses just because I could. I had no respect for anyone or anything -- including myself though I couldn't see that at the time. I really liked to humiliate the weaker kids at school by saying shit about them loudly in a crowed area. I hassled the fags and the geeks without mercy. It seemed to me like God put them there for my amusement. I enjoyed the pain I inflicted when I messed with them verbally and physically. There was no greater reward back then than making some guy to cry. And girls... girls were just holes to fuck. I started rumors -- bad rumors -- about lots of them. If they didn't put out for me, I made sure everyone thought they did. If they did put out for me, I'd use them for my pleasure until they didn't interest me anymore. Then I'd make sure there was some nasty rumor going around about them too. It was all a game. I thought I was invincible... untouchable...
Nearly six months after by buddy's run in with the cops at our party, he finally had his day in court. It wasn't a good day for him. He got some jail time and a fine. He didn't have a choice about the jail time because they took him right from the court to serve that. The fine was another matter. He didn't have the money for it, and he didn't have a means to get the money. His parents weren't going to bail him out of this mess. He mysteriously got the money he needed to pay the fine by the deadline. I questioned him to find out where he got it. He didn't say much, but finally told me that he did a job for his neighbor. After more questions about what he did for the guy, my buddy told me that he had to strip for the guy... get naked so the guy could look at his body. I figured a fag would do that so it didn't seem out of the question to me. I congratulated my buddy for screwing the fag out of the money. My buddy wasn't so hyped about his score. I didn't really think about it. If I had thought about it, I would have realized that more was likely involved.
I was on my way home from a party one morning when my problems came to a head. I took my moms car because mine was out of gas. She didn't know that I took it but figured it out when the car wasn't there and neither was I. On the drive home I somehow hit the curb and then a tree that was about three feet from the road. The whole front fender was crumpled. The wheel was on it's side. The windshield was cracked where I smacked my head. The car looked like shit. No one was hurt except for a knot on my forehead. No one was really around to see the accident since it was a bit of a rural road -- houses were far apart out here where I lived. I walked the rest of the way home. I just wanted to pass out in my bed, but the arguing started the second I walked in the door. My mom was late for work thanks to me, and she was pissed. Our yelling woke my dad so now the both of them were yelling at me. I was a tough guy who didn't take that shit from anyone. I slammed shit around and yelled back at them. When I couldn't yell anymore, I went to my basement room and crashed. When I woke up that afternoon I had my most sober thoughts of the day. I realized that I'd fucked up pretty bad. My dad cornered me in the kitchen when I came upstairs to find something to eat. He didn't yell at me, but he did tell me that I had to get a job immediately and that I had to pay the $1,000.00 insurance deductible. He gave me three weeks to pay them the money. If I didn't have the money by then he wanted me out of the house. I walked away from him. Bullshit! That's what I thought. There was no way they'd kick me out. I partied again that night and didn't come home for two days. I thought that would give them time to cool off and come to their senses. When I got home there were empty boxes in my room. A couple of days later my mom had some of my things packed in the boxes.
For the first time I took their threat seriously. I tried to talk with them that weekend, but they didn't relent. If I didn't have the money in two weeks now, I was out of the house for good. This was fucked! I'd had jobs before, but none of them paid over minimum wage. There was no way to make that much money in two weeks. Jobs and I didn't get along anyway. They were a lot like school... they got in the way of my parties or my sleep. I'd work for a while then just not show up again. I remembered how my buddy got his money so figured I go get some from his neighbor too. My buddy had to strip for the guy and got $200.00. I'd strip for the guy and maybe let him touch my dick. That had to be worth a grand. When I had made up my mind to get some easy money, I went to see the guy. I had to walk nearly a mile to his place because my car was taken away so my mom had transportation. I told him what I needed and finally what I'd do for the money. I figured he'd jump at the chance to see me naked and touch my dick. I just knew I'd be walking out with my money before the night was over. It didn't go down like I expected.
He told me what I'd have to do to get the money. Be a slave for him? Let him fuck my ass? Was he fucking nuts? I was like 'no fucking way, man'. I ain't gay, and I ain't letting you beat the shit out of me. I sure as hell ain't letting you fuck me. Then he told me about my life and the direction I was headed. Maybe it was because I was sober and rested that I actually listened and thought about what he said. At the time I couldn't help remember back to when I first met him. I really liked this guy. I guess I respected him. What he said about my lifestyle and my behavior and attitudes really started to sink in. I don't mean that I came to any great decisions to change my life or anything, but I did see how others looked at me. I did realize that what he was saying was true. I didn't admit it, but I knew what he was telling me was the truth. I tried to make him feel guilty for making me homeless by not helping me. That brought a longer talk about responsibility and consequences for my actions. This guy wasn't lecturing me or yelling at me. He was just telling me the God-awful truth -- a truth I didn't want to hear, and I truth I certainly didn't want to accept as fact.
I walked back home. I couldn't help replaying in my mind all of the things he said to me. I grudgingly admitted to myself that he was right about everything. I was completely self centered. I didn't care about anything or anyone. I didn't show any respect for anyone -- not even my buddy or his family because I'd stolen shit from them too. I didn't have a job and couldn't keep one. I did live to drink, get high, and fuck. I used people and didn't care about them at all. I had no skills at all. I only graduated high school because they didn't want to deal with me for another year. I didn't have a direction. I didn't have any ambition. I didn't have any drive. I didn't ever consider the consequences of my actions. I never took responsibility for any of the things I did or said. When he brought up the rude and crude comments and jokes my buddy and I use to make when he was outside or entertaining outside were a perfect example. I didn't think at all about how he felt or what his friends thought about me. I didn't mean to offend the guy. He was good to me. I liked him. I kept asking myself why I was such a loser. I kept trying to think about what I should do next.
I didn't sleep much that night because my head was full of thoughts and the very real consequence to wrecking the car. Most of my stuff was packed in the boxes. I called everyone I knew the next day to see if I could crash at their places. No one had a place for me. A couple of the girls I thought would let me crash at their places just laughed at me for even having the nerve to ask after how I treated them. I cried that night for the first time I could remember in years. The consequences of my poor choices and bad judgment and attitudes were sinking in. The only way I could see to keep a roof over my head was to do what he wanted. I cried as the reality of what he told me I'd be doing started to sink in.
I went back to his place to agree to the deal he laid out. He added a few things, but it didn't matter at that point. I took his offer. He told me when to report back to his place. The thoughts of what I'd endure played over and over in my head. I'm not sure when I knew it, but at some point before I reported to his house I knew two things. The first was that he would make me feel pain, but he wouldn't hurt me. I don't know if that makes sense to you, but I just knew that it would be bad but not impossible to tolerate. I wanted to prove to him that I could take what he dished out. I wanted to prove to him that I was better than he thought. I wanted to prove that I could do whatever he told me to do. I respected him, and I respected his judgment. I wanted to make him proud of me. I wanted him to like me again. The other thing I knew was that if I didn't learn anything from this guy then I'd likely never learn. This guy had made something for himself. He owned his own home. He took a run down house and made it nice. He worked hard for what he had. He wasn't afraid of the work. People liked him. He got respect from the other neighbors. No one cared that he was gay. He was a good guy. He helped people when they needed it -- loaning tools or even helping them use the tools he had to fix things. I knew that this man could teach me about consequences and responsibility. I understood some of that would come in the form of a bad beating. I'd never been beaten before. I'd been in a few fights -- gotten hit a few times, but I'm never been beaten. I probably deserved what he would dish out. That doesn't mean I was looking forward to any of this, but I had come to the conclusion that it was my fault for where I was in life. I had no one to blame but myself.
I arrived at his house about 15 minutes early. I sat on the front steps trying to get the balls to ring the bell. I had some fears -- mostly a fear of failure. I had some insecurities too, but I didn't have any doubts. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it would be the hardest thing I'd ever done. Somewhere very deep inside I knew that I could do it. I knew I could do this for myself, and I knew I could make him proud of me. I stood up and rang the bell.
He was friendly and polite when he greeted me. We sat in the kitchen while he went over the requirements again for me. My mouth was so dry. I didn't think I'd be able to talk. When he offered me a coke I guzzled it down. We went down to the basement. I hadn't been down here before. He told me to strip, and I did. I was immediately aware of my nakedness and vulnerability at that moment. My whole body shook as I stood there in front of him completely naked while he was still fully dressed. Instantly I knew my place. I cringed when the door locked us in the room. The room was eerily quiet. The dim bare light bulbs added to the creepiness of the room. It looked like a torture chamber. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and I only had toast then. I was certain I would have tossed my cookies as the fear enveloped me and seeped into my mind. The chains from the ceiling and the whip barely illuminated on the table freaked me. The dirty twin bed on the far wall signaled this would be my 'home' for the next two days.
My first task was to make my dick hard. I hadn't had sex in over a week. I couldn't think about anything else but this weekend and what led me to this point. Sex was the last thing on my mind. I played with myself for a long time before I finally got hard. He watched me the whole time. It was embarrassing to be doing this in front of someone, especially a guy. My body shook when he first touched me. I was certain he would inflict pain in my balls by hitting them or something, but he didn't. He played with me until I was damn near ready to shoot, but then he told me I couldn't. I could feel my dick twitching in time with my racing heartbeat. The nipple clamps hurt when he affixed them, but I think it hurt more when he removed them. I undressed him. I really had never taken the time to look at another guy's body until now. I saw his muscles. I saw his clear, clean skin. I could smell the scent of a man. I'd never noticed that about myself. I wondered if I had that musky, sexual odor. His ass was firm. His legs were solid and looked powerful... so did his arms and chest. I knew he could break me in half if he really wanted to do that. I compared our bodies. I was soft all over. I once had some tone and definition to my body, but those days were long gone now. Where he had a six-pack, I had the start of a beer gut. Where his ass was firm and muscled, mine was flabby like jello. Where he stood tall and proud, I slouched. As I knelt down in front of him I knew what would be next. Before that part started I couldn't help but notice his equipment. His dick and balls were bigger than mine. They weren't that much bigger, but they looked like they belonged to a man. Mine seemed more like a little boy's. He made me suck it. I knew this would happen, but I suppose I thought he'd fuck my face. He didn't. He made me do the work. I knew he was going to cum in my mouth. I knew he would make me swallow it. I knew that because that is what I would have done. He didn't care about what I wanted because I never cared about what anyone wanted. He was showing me who I was.
Being chained to the ceiling and floor was the most helpless I'd ever felt. We both knew the punishment that was about to start wasn't for anything I'd done wrong since I arrived. This punishment was for past things. Forty sounded like a lot, but at the same time it didn't seem like too much. When the blows started raining down on my shoulders and back, I knew I would do anything to avoid this outcome. It felt as though a fire had started at my shoulders and was progressing down my back, over my ass, and to the upper part of my thighs. I was crying and grunting and groaning at the end of the first twenty. When the second twenty started back at my shoulders I was yelling out the pain I felt. I couldn't see the damage, but it felt like my skin had been ripped off. I was weak with pain. I'd been stretched and my limbs spread apart. I couldn't have remained upright without the chains. I was crying like a baby when he unhooked me. I collapsed on the floor -- sobbing. He helped me up. He walked me around to get the muscles to work. Then he put ointment on my backside. It didn't stop the pain, but it did ease it some. More importantly were the words of encouragement he said as he applied the ointment. He was pleased and proud. I'd made him feel that! He told me I did good.
The order came to spread my legs as I laid face down on the bed. I knew what was coming. I wanted another chance to make him proud of me. I wanted him to praise me for my efforts again. Laying on my back caused me to wince with pain. Pulling my knees to my chest stretched the muscles and skin over my ass and thighs. It hurt. I was breathing hard. I was trying to relax and give up control to him. I felt his dick on my hole. He encouraged me to relax. He told me to push out as I felt him pushing in. He told me what to expect -- pain at first but then pleasure. I don't think I believed it at the time, but I trusted him. I wanted to believe him. It did hurt at first. It was more painful than the beating, but amazingly the pain subsided. He slowly eased himself inside of me -- like he was waiting for me to take more of him. I knew when he was all the way in because I could feel his cooler skin against my inflamed ass. It was soothing and comforting. I recalled the only time I'd butt fucked a chick. She was this overweight girl from school. My buddy and I used her all night. When I decided to fuck he ass, I just plowed all the way in. She was begging me to take it out, but I just laughed at her. I fucked her ass hard. She cried the whole time. I didn't give a shit. My concern was that I got off. It never extended to my partner's needs. If the chick didn't get off it was her problem. He'd started long, slow strokes in and out of my ass. In a strange way it felt good. I wasn't in pain, and I wasn't crying. When he started to jack my dick I was surprised that I got hard. I was even more surprised when he was getting me close. He reminded me that I had to wait until he said I could cum. He brought me so damn close a couple of times before he told me I could cum. It was almost like a command I couldn't ignore. When he said I could cum, I could feel my balls pull tight and my body tense. I shot hard. I felt my ass clamp down on his dick. When it relaxed some he slammed into my. I could tell he was cumming too. He praised me after his orgasm. He told me he was proud of me. He told me I just might be a real man after all.
When he slip out of me I felt disconnected from him. It wasn't a bad experience. The beating was far worse. He had me lick my own cum from his fingers. I'd never tasted cum before. It wasn't like I expected. He shot in my mouth earlier, but I didn't taste it then. I lost it that time. I couldn't keep it down. I don't think it was the cum as much as it was nerves. I didn't have that reaction this time. I sucked his dick clean for him. I wanted to do a good job. I wanted his praise again. He gave it generously. I slept chained to the bed. Despite the pain I still felt, I somehow felt more comfortable than I could remember. I thought of my accomplishments this night. I thought about the fact that I'd made him proud of me -- that I'd pleased him.
I served him Saturday and Sunday. I didn't mind at all. I had a purpose. That purpose was to make him happy. My reward was his praise. I did get another beating that weekend. He offered me the chance to take it without the restraints. I knew that he wanted me to try, and I was quick to take the chance. My ass was still painfully sore from the first beating. This was to be 20 lashes to my ass. It took only a couple of blows before my ass was on fire with pain. By the tenth I wasn't able to hold still and keep my ass in the air where he wanted it. By the 15th I asked to be chained because I knew I was subconsciously trying to avoid the blows. He let me bend over the chair for the final five. I hated myself for not being able to meet his expectations. I felt like I'd let him down. Instead of more lashes to my ass for not doing what he had instructed me to do, he praised me for my efforts to keep my ass still and in the air for him. I wanted to hug him when he told me that. He walked me around and applied more ointment to my very sore ass.
The second time he fucked me was so much easier than the first. I knew what to expect, and I wanted the chance to show him that I could. The result was that I shot so hard I thought my balls were going to be launched out of my dick. I'd never had such a powerful orgasm before.
When it was over, he handed me an envelope with the money we agreed upon. As I was ready to leave I reached for his hand to shake it. I thanked him. What I didn't tell him is that he gave me more than the money that weekend. Walking home I thought about the weekend. I decided that I would make an effort to do what I should have been doing all along. I was going to be a man... take responsibility for my own life and suffer the consequences for any stupid mistakes I made along the way. My parents were pleased that I brought them the money. I knew they needed it. We didn't have a lot, For them to come up with that much would have meant working more shifts for both of them.
Monday morning I was very sore. I took aspirin and slept most of the day and night. Tuesday I made myself get an early start at job hunting. I filled out as many applications as I could in the day. I continued my search each day. I hadn't found anything yet, but I was out there trying. I got a good feeling inside knowing he would be proud of me for my efforts. I found myself at his home that next weekend. I wanted to tell him that I had learned the lessons he taught me the previous weekend. I wanted to hear his praise. He listened and spoke to me like an adult. He never treated me badly. At first he treated my like the puck-ass brat that I was, but he related to me differently as I behaved differently. He asked how my back was doing. I told him that it didn't sting anymore, but that I couldn't see it to know what it looked like. He told me to take off my shirt, and I did immediately. When he asked about my ass, I took my shoes and pants off. It was still pink, but the welts were gone. When I turned to face him I was hard. I don't know why that was for sure, but I suspect it was a combination of having not cum since I was last here and wanting to connect with him on that deeper, more personal level. I don't know if he was trying to teach me that or not, but I did learn that you can't get closer to someone you love than inviting them inside of you. He told me he wanted to shave my pubes. I readily agreed. I didn't have all that much body hair anyway so it wasn't a big loss. When he finished I couldn't believe how much bigger my dick looked. It seemed to stand out more. He put the cock ring back in place. I hadn't taken it off since he put it one me a week ago Friday night.
When he told me he wanted to fuck me, I said good cause I needed to cum too. He smiled at me as I started to take his clothes off. In his family room I laid on my back and pulled my knees to my chest. He put on a condom and lubed his dick and my ass. It was a little difficult getting it inside me, but I wanted him there so when I did open to him he slid all the way in. I just felt at home with him. I'd never been more comfortable -- like I'd found a place where I belonged. When he finally told me I could cum, I'd been begging for at least five minutes. He hammered my ass hard, and I started to cum. I felt so much relief as my dick pumped out cum. He was always so tender after he got off. He said kind things, soothing things, tender things. I lived for his praise.
I'd been sitting on his steps for over three hours when he finally got home the next Friday night. He was slightly buzzed when he climbed the steps. He asked me to come inside. I told him that I'd made a big mistake this past week. I partied all Tuesday night and missed an interview Wednesday morning. I was nearly in tears as I told him my sad tale. I didn't want him to hate me. I wanted him to help me. I asked him for help. I promised to do whatever he said. I pleaded with him to let me stay with him. He told me we'd talk about it in the morning. He told me to get into his bed with him. I stripped and climbed in. He did fuck me that night. It was just fucking. He needed to get off. I didn't mind at all. I didn't feel used or taken advantage of in the least. I allowed him inside me. When he was finished he pulled me in close to his body. He wrapped his arm over my chest. I felt safe and secure. I knew then that he would give me the help I wanted.
I retold my tale of the previous week. I asked him to allow me to say with him because I needed what he could provide. I needed to learn self discipline and self control. I needed to have severe consequences when I screwed up. I needed to be praised when I did well and punished when I didn't. I'd never found anyone else who did for me what he did. I didn't have bad parents. They worked their asses off to give us a decent life, but they didn't have time to monitor me each and every day. I didn't want to be a slave, but I did want him to teach me... to train me to... to help me reach my potential. Don't get the wrong idea here. I didn't want to be punished. The thought of a beating terrified me, but I needed to know that was what would come my way if I didn't do my best. I wanted to please this man. I wanted him to be proud of me so that I could be proud of myself.
He agreed to help me and set down a list of rules that I would have to abide by each and every day. None of his rules were unreasonable. He helped me make my choices. Once I made the choice then it was my responsibility to follow through. If I failed, there was punishment waiting. There would be credit given to me for effort. If I tried my hardest and still failed, I was encouraged to try again. I wasn't allowed to just simply give up. No one ever made me stick with something until a successful end. Now I wouldn't have an excuse.
I went home, put my packed boxes in my car, and told my parents I was moving in with a friend. When I got back to his house, I brought my things inside. He went through the boxes with me. Items he didn't think appropriate to my new life were put back into the boxes. All of my punk clothes were left in boxes to be stored in the basement. I didn't have much left. Any personal items -- toys he called them -- were taken away. I would have use of them only when I deserved them. Because of my failings last week I didn't deserved any of my toys. I agreed with all of his decisions.
After dinner we discussed appropriate punishment for my failures last week. He listed each mistake for me. Where I only saw one, missing the interview, he saw several. First I was hanging with the wrong people. Second I was drinking and smoking weed. Third I stayed up too late when I had an commitment the next morning. Fourth I didn't get up in time to get to the interview. Fifth I didn't bother to call the place to let them know I wasn't coming to the interview. Sixth I then wasted all of Wednesday and most of Thursday being hung over. Seventh I didn't go out looking for work either of those days. It all made sense to me. I had to make serious changes -- more changes than I originally thought. We discussed punishment for my failings. He believe the punishment should be severe. I couldn't disagree with him. He suggested 100 lashes with the strap. I told him that I thought 60 lashes would be fair. I also told him that I didn't think I could take 100 lashes, but I was willing to take whatever he decided was appropriate. He settled on 60. Since I was already naked I just needed to go down stairs. It was a difficult walk, almost like the walk to the gallows. I knew what was waiting for me at the end of the walk. I didn't want the beating, but it was something I deserved. There was a six foot table in the punishment room. He gave me the option of laying on the table or being chained. I picked the table thinking it would be more comfortable. Nothing is comfortable when the strap started to fall on my back. He worked like before -- from my shoulders to my upper thighs. The first time was painful. The second time was even more painful. The third time was sheer hell. I was begging and pleading for the beating to stop. He didn't let up. When it was over he allowed me to calm myself on the table. I was a crying and blubbering mess. When I had been calm for a while, he put the pain ointment on my back, ass, and thighs. It didn't seem to take any of the pain away. He didn't fuck me this time, but he did comfort me. He helped me to stand then put me in bed for the night.
We went shopping for things he thought were needed. He got free weights and a bench with attachments. I was to start a daily workout regime. Later when we were home, he downloaded and printed a program for me that told me what I had to do each session. He'd planned out the first six weeks. While he did that I brought the weights and bench and attachments into the basement and set them up outside the punishment room. I told him when I was finished, and he came to check my work. He was pleased and congratulated me on a fine job. I was smiling through the pain on my backside. He also bought me a pair of work boots and a package of heavy socks. I was starting a construction job later that week.
Over dinner we went over the daily routine. I would be living in the spare bedroom down the hall from his bedroom. I wouldn't be doing all the housework, but I would be helping with the chores doing at least half of the work that needed to be done in and around the house. When I did get my paychecks I would bring them to him. If I needed anything I had to ask him for it. He would decided if I needed the item or not. I had to be up early enough to get to work on time. I couldn't be late. I had a set time to be home each evening. I could only go to and from work. Any other stops were prohibited without prior permission. I could work late, but if I did I had to call to let him know how late I would be. Entertainment was a daily news program on TV and reading. I had to pick two areas that interested me. Each week we picked books in those areas for me to read and study. I wanted to learn about wiring houses. I thought I might want to be an electrician. I also wanted to learn more about carpentry. He expected me to be naked in the house in the beginning. Getting to wear clothes in the house was a reward he would give when it was earned. I also had to report my own bad behavior. If I didn't give the job 100% all day, every day, I would be punished for lazy behavior. If I didn't follow directions I would be punished. Punishment was the strap or the loss of toys and privileges I'd earned. If I failed to report on myself and he learn of bad behavior from my boss, the punishment would be double. I wasn't allowed to drink or smoke weed. I couldn't have sex with anyone. I could only cum when he said I could. I couldn't hang with any of my old friends. I could talk to my buddy next door as long as it didn't cause me to not get my chores done in a timely manner. I wasn't permitted to go to his house. Basically I was confined to the house and the yard without prior permission.
It sounded strict, but that was what I needed. Those guys I hung with really weren't friends. We partied together, but we didn't really mean anything to each other at all. I'd already told him more personal things than I ever told anyone else -- even my best friend. None of the guys I hung with had anything I wanted anymore. I liked the party scene, but it was time for that period of my life to end. I didn't want to be a fuck up for the rest of my life. I really wanted to make something of myself. He could help me get there.
Life was good. I worked hard at my job. When I recounted the days events for him, he praised me for my successes and counseled me when I needed guidance. Punishment was reasonable when it was applied -- always proportionate to the offense. Most all of the time I decided what the punishment would be. After a few months together he felt I had earned the right to wear clothes around the house. I thought I would really like that, but it wasn't as big a deal to me when it came. I found that I often followed the old routine of staying naked when I finished my after-work shower. About that same time I got a raise and a promotion at work. I was feeling pretty good about myself. I'd never stayed at any other job long enough to collect more than a few paychecks so this was a real big deal to me. He was also aware of the importance and praised me for my hard work and accomplishment. He was very proud of me. I suppose I got a bit of a swelled head over it. I knew I was being cockier than I had been -- smart-ass comments and things like that. He told me I needed to cool my jets, but the message was too slow to sink in for some reason. He decided I needed to be taken down a peg or two. He told me I would be the naked houseboy at a Saturday night poker party.
He'd never made me be naked in front of anyone but him. Now he wanted me naked for a whole night with four strangers in the house. I balked at the idea. I threw what was a childish temper tantrum at best. He escorted me to the punishment room a few hours before the guests were to arrive. He told me what my duties would be and what to expect. I was scared since I knew the guys coming to play poker were his gay friends. I'd actually met all of them before at one time or another. When he first told me what I'd be doing, it was simply serving beverages and snacks. Now he told me I would be there for them to play with. They could touch me wherever they wanted -- fondly my dick and balls and ass. No one could fuck me and I didn't have to do anything to them or for them, but he expected me to get hard and let the guys keep me hard all night. I was mortified. He told me to grab on to an overhead beam in the punishment room. When I was dangling from the beam he applied 15 hard swats with the paddle to my ass. When I was standing again I quickly agreed to follow his instructions for the night. Before we went upstairs he inserted the butt plug in my ass. I hadn't had that in me for a long time. It was humiliating to have it in me. I hated that little toy, but I didn't argue. Upstairs he handed me a tissue to dry my eyes. He reminded me to always stand with my legs spread to give the guys access to my stuff and to do what was asked unless it was something I'd told him not to do. He told me to get hard, and I started to pump my dick. He reminded me that I wasn't to cum until all the guests were gone. I was fully hard when I answered the door for the first guest.
The guys didn't waste any time playing with my stuff. I was kept hard from 8:00 to after 1:00 in the morning. I had to recount for the group the reason for my red ass. One of the guys pulled my plug out and put it back in. I was humiliated and embarrassed that evening, and the result was that I wasn't at all cocky anymore. By the time everyone left for the night, I was hornier than a tomcat in heat. As I was finishing cleaning up, he came into the kitchen to see if I needed any help. I told him I did. He asked what he could do to help me. I told him I needed him to fuck me bad. He fucked me good. I came so damn hard it hurt. That was the first time I asked him for sex. I instigated sex from time to time when I needed to get off, but I'd never come right out and asked for it.
I was back on track... more humble and less cocky. I continued to learn and grow. I was doing more around the house, and I found that I wasn't waiting to be told what needed to be done. I was deciding chore priorities. By the end of the year I was making most of the decisions around the house and most of my own choices. I would go to him for help if I needed it, but I knew what to do most of the time. It was good to have my choices confirmed by him. It was good to know I was on the right track.
After about a year living with him, I met a woman who had just started working at the construction office. I really liked her. I talked with him about her. I asked if he thought I was ready to try a relationship outside of ours. He told me it was a good idea as long as I took it slow and didn't rush into anything. He told me he would help me. I felt better and more confident when he told me that. I agreed to listed to him and follow his instructions even if I didn't like them. I asked her out. I had a great time with her. I had permission to kiss her good night but nothing more. I couldn't go inside her place. I could only give her a good night kiss for the first three dates. After that he felt I was ready for a little bit more. I could make out with her, but I couldn't remove any of her clothing or touch her below the waist. It was damn hard to comply with that limitation, but I did. I was so damn horny when I got home. I recounted the date and my feelings. I asked his permission to jack off. He told me to strip and get to it. I hadn't cum without him inside me in over a year. I wondered if I could even cum, but I was too worked up to wait. I stripped and sat on the sofa and jacked off in front of him. I busted a nut in about five minutes.
He explained why I had to wait for sex with this woman. He wanted me to learn about her before sex was introduced into the mix. He wanted me to respect her as a person before sex. He wanted me to wait until I felt more for her than simple sexual arousal. Debbie and I did lots of things I'd never done before with a woman. We walked in the park. We went to the library together. We watched movies. I invited her to the house often. We cooked dinner together. I learned what she thought and how she felt. I listened to her opinions and explained mine. He was the only person I related to so intensely until I got to know Debbie. She didn't replace him. The relationship Debbie and I shared was so much different. He was my mentor, a father figure, a big brother, a taskmaster, a trusted friend, a companion, a confessor. She was a woman I liked a lot for so many reasons. For the first time I respected a woman. For the first time I was putting sex on the back burner. Debbie was a friend and companion in a much different way -- like the difference between hard and soft.
I talked with him nearly daily about Debbie. I discussed my feelings for her. By discussing them with him I watched them grow and develop over time. It was an amazing transformation as the relationship evolved. I talked about sex a lot during that time. It seemed I was always horny, but I learned self restraint. It was likely one of the best lessons he taught me. Had I been the old me I would have tried to screw her on the first date. If she wasn't interested, I wouldn't have asked her out again, but I would have made sure I told all the guys that I'd banged her. If she did put out on the first date, I would have screwed her until someone else came along. I never would have gotten to know her. I wouldn't have taken the time. It was great in so many ways.
We'd been dating for four months I think when I asked if he didn't think it time to introduce sex or at least let me ask her if it was something she wanted with me. He told me it was time to consider it. He thought I was ready for the next step. The news had me very excited. I bounced around the house like a windup toy. It was all I could think about, and all I could talk about. We'd been in our rooms for about an hour when I couldn't stand it anymore. I walked into his room and told him that I really needed to cum. He told me I could masturbate. I told him I would prefer to have him inside me. He invited me into his bed. We had a wonderfully slow buildup to a ball busting cum. After we separated he pulled me to him and told me that once I had sex with Debbie he wouldn't be having sex with me. I asked him why. He told me that I needed to be faithful to her, and I didn't need the complication of sex with two people. I understood what he was saying, but I wanted him to know that he could still have my body to satisfy his needs. I wanted him to be happy and satisfied too. He explained further that I was ready to embark on the next phase of my life. He felt that I had learned most of the lessons I needed to know, but that I didn't seem to need the daily attention I did in the beginning. He told me that soon I would be ready to move on -- get my own place. He believed I could make my own choices and make the right ones for me. Hearing him say that gave me more confidence than I'd ever known. If he believed I was ready, then I would believe it too.
I turned around to face him in the bed. I rested my head on his chest. I told him that I couldn't thank him enough for what he did for me. I told him I had no regrets about any part of the experience. I told him he was more than my best and closest friend. I told him that when I did leave I would always come back to see him and talk about major choices. I told him I loved him. I'd never said that to anyone aside from my parents, and the last time I told them that I was probably ten years old. I really did love him. He told me he loved me too. He told me he hoped I would come back often -- even if I just wanted to shoot the shit or hang out. He said his door was always open to me. He held me tight. It felt so good to be in house and in his care. I was secure and safe with him, but he taught me how to take care of myself. He gave me so much. I kissed him on the cheek. He kissed my forehead as I rested my head on his chest. I knew inside that I was prepared to deal with all that awaited me when I started out on my own, but I wasn't ready to leave quite yet.
Debbie and I did have sex. It was damn good! I'd never been happier. When I saw him next, I told him every detail. I hadn't kept anything a secret from him since I moved in. Now wasn't the time to start. I was bubbling over with excitement. I wanted to tell the world... I had to tell him. Debbie and I continued to date. I had decided that it was time for me to get my own place. When I discussed it with him, he told me we'd go house hunting that weekend. We looked for two weeks before I found a place I really liked. It needed some work, but it was a solid house with a good roof and a large yard. The real estate agent who showed us the house told us what she thought would be a fair offer. I pulled him aside to tell him that I didn't think I could afford the house. It sounded like so much money to me. Long story short, the offer was accepted. When it came to the down payment, he showed me my bank account. He had faithfully deposited every check since my first one. The only money ever withdrawn was for items I actually needed. I had more than enough for a down payment and some furniture. I grabbed him and danced him all around the house. I felt like I'd just been given the best present in the world.
I wouldn't have minded if he'd taken every penny I'd earned. I owed him that much and more. He didn't take any of it though. He saved it. He taught me one more lesson. He was indeed the greatest!
So that brings me to where I am today. Debbie and I did get married. He was my best man. He will always be the best man. We've been married for nearly two years now. The best news is that Debbie is pregnant with our first child. We know it will be a boy, and we know we'll name our son after him.
Thanks for reading my story.
Please share your comments and constructive criticisms with me at: dselliot28@yahoo.com
Please try my other stories on Nifty...
"College Life" in the 'college' section - last updated May 1.
"Walk in the Park" in the 'beginnings' section - last updated April 19.
"Confusion Rains" in the 'high school' section -- last updated May 18
Thanks for reading my submissions!
Peace and Love.
ds elliot