Kurt was sick of having such a fucking slob for a roommate. Everywhere he turned, there was chaos. Dirty dishes in the sink. Stinky, smelly socks on the living room floor. If Kurt didn't do the vacuuming himself, it would never get done. And he didn't even want to think about that nasty bathroom. Sure, Kurt had his own private bathroom in his master bedroom, but the main bathroom that his roommate used was always a pig sty.
It was particularly frustrating because Greg was for the most part a really nice guy. And cute. Greg was beyond cute, really. He was adorable. In fact, it was probably for this reason alone that Kurt had let his guard down and taken the kid on as a roommate. Sure, he was motivated in part by the financial benefit. Greg paid monthly rent and had to contribute money for groceries and utilities, and Greg was pretty reliable in that sense. There'd been a couple times when he was late a day or two on the rent due to the way his paydays happened to fall. But the thing that had swayed Kurt toward his final decision to take Greg in as a boarder was that sweet, innocent smile of his. He had wavy blond hair and piercing blue eyes, not to mention a tight little swimmer's build that he liked to show off.
"Dude, listen. I gotta talk to you about something," Kurt said. He was standing in the doorway of Greg's bedroom, scanning the mess, his mouth falling open in shocked disbelief. The room looked as if a cyclone had hit.
"Sure man," Greg said. He was sitting on his bed, wearing only underwear and holding a video game controller in his hand. He didn't look up to meet Kurt's gaze because that would have required he tear his eyes away from the TV screen, which of course was not gonna happen in the middle of a game.
Kurt cleared his throat, waiting impatiently.
Greg hit the pause button and placed the controller on the bed beside him. "Sorry man," he said. A lock of his blond hair swept down over his eye, and he tossed his head back just slightly to clear his field of vision. "What's up?"
"My parents are stopping by tomorrow, and I need the house cleaned."
Greg smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure man, no problem. I'll tidy up a bit."
"A bit?" Kurt said. He looked around the room, disgusted by the stacks of dirty dishes and silverware. Cereal bowls, glasses, plates with leftover spaghetti sauce and macaroni and cheese. "Dude, this room should be condemned. Look at all these nasty dishes that've been in here for God knows how long. And the clothes... I mean, come on. Do you ever do laundry? And it stinks!"
Greg chuckled, unfazed. "I know... I been meaning to clean this up. I promise I'll get to it later today-or tomorrow morning."
"Today!" Kurt demanded. "And the bathroom too."
Greg made a face. "But I'm in the middle of a competition..."
"Today!" Kurt repeated. "There's no way you'll have time tomorrow morning. Look, I have to work a twelve hour shift at the hospital tonight. I won't be here to babysit you, but when I come home in the morning, this place better be clean. I'll only have about three hours to sleep and get myself cleaned up in the before my folks get here."
"Okay, man... I'll get right on it."
"Good. I'm headed out then. I got the living room and kitchen already taken care of. Just don't mess em up, and concentrate on getting your room and bathroom done."
Again, Greg nodded. "Got it, dude. Not a problem... you can count on me." And then he smiled. That smile of his was so innocent and so charming, that Kurt was completely disarmed.
"All right. Bye."
As soon as Greg heard the front door close, he got up and stumbled to the living room. He picked up the remote control for the stereo and cranked it to high, then made his way to the kitchen. He pulled out a half gallon container of orange juice from the fridge, tipped it up to his mouth and took a huge swig directly from the carton.
Man, that Kurt was a pain sometimes. Nice enough guy, but he was so fucking anal about everything. Yeah, well whatever. He'd have plenty of time later to get the cleaning bullshit done. For now, though, he had the place all to himself.
He stepped over to the counter where his phone was plugged in. Picking it up, he called his friend Tyler. "Dude, what's up? Hey, wanna come over?"
Within a half hour the house was swarming with college aged kids, all ready to party. And party they did. Someone brought a keg, and later they got pizza. By eleven o'clock that night everyone was trashed, and the keg was nearly empty. This didn't stop them, though. One of the guys volunteered to get more beer and they decided to start a game of quarter bounce.
By three in the morning, Greg and Ty were curled up together on Greg's single bed. Ty had just finished sucking him off, and Greg was pretty wasted. "Dude, that was awesome," he whispered.
"You're the one who's awesome," Ty said, slurring his words.
"Hey man, we gotta get up early and clean this place up before my roommate gets home. He's gonna kill me."
"Sure, man," Ty said, yawning. "No problem."
Greg pulled the co-ed into his arms, squeezing him tightly against his chest. "Cool," he said, and that was the last he remembered before dozing off to sleep.
Kurt loved his job, but the twelve hour shifts were ridiculous. It made absolutely no sense that the industry responsible for providing health care services to the general population cared so little about the health of its own employees. In almost every other line of work, hourly wage employees were not expected to work more than eight hours per day, and on the rare occasions they had to, they were heavily compensated. Kurt was an RN, and was very proud of the fact that he'd gotten his degree and landed a position at the county's biggest hospital. But there were days-like today-he questioned his choices.
Third shift was actually his favorite to work. There were fewer doctors around, and most of the patients were asleep. Of course he still seemed to run his ass off, and he seldom took a sit-down break. He worked from 8pm til 8am the next morning. He was relieved to have had the chat with his roommate Greg, because he was in no mood to face a mess at home. He was tired and wanted to take a quick shower and get at least three hours sleep before his parents arrived around noon.
Kurt's mom had always been a homemaker. His father had owned a hardware store all of Kurt's life. He ended up selling it when Kurt was in high school after a huge retail chain moved into the area. Those mega-stores were bad news for the small business owners. There was just no way that his dad could compete, so he sold the business and went to work for the mega store as a "consultant". He provided customers expert advice on their home repair products and didn't have the stress of managing his own business. He was now in his sixties, but Kurt wondered if his dad would ever retire. Yeah, he'd defected to the enemy but it was like the ole saying, "If you can't beat em, join em."
The parents only came for a visit every few months, and Kurt wanted everything to go smoothly. He knew his mom fretted and worried over him, so he strove to give the impression that everything was under control. He'd come out to them a couple years prior, and they didn't take it too well. They were old school, and Kurt realized that it was best to just leave things unsaid. His mom and dad didn't ask personal questions, and he didn't volunteer anything.
It was kind of obvious that his mom really hoped all that talk of homosexuality was merely a phase. She always dropped hints about wanting him to settle down with a nice girl and give her some grandkids. When Kurt turned thirty last year, his mom had a conversation with him, warning him that time was running out. He didn't have the heart to remind her that he was gay and never would get married. He resigned himself to the reality that his parents were just never going to accept him for who he was. Their only way of coping was to shroud themselves in denial.
Well, it'd be okay. He just had to get through the day. They would visit for a while at the house and then go out for dinner. By nightfall they'd be on their way back home and Kurt wouldn't have to worry about them for at least a couple months. He heaved a sigh of relief, remembering that he'd talked to Greg and the house wouldn't be an issue. He pulled into the driveway, yawning as he did so, and wondered why there was a strange car parked behind Greg's. Maybe the kid had a friend stay over. Kurt wondered if it was a male or female friend-that'd be interesting to find out.
When he pushed open the front door, the first thing he noticed was the overpowering stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke that assaulted his nose. His jaw came unhinged as he scanned the living room in shocked disbelief. Holy fuck! It looked as if a herd of elephants had stampeded his home. Empty plastic cups were strewn across the floor. A huge plant was tipped on its side and potting soil was all over his recently-shampooed carpet. Pizza boxes and paper plates were everywhere. The sofa cushions were God-knows-where. In a word, the place was trashed.
"Greg! You son of a bitch!" he began screaming.
The living room was in bad shape, but it did not begin to prepare him for what he was to find in the kitchen. Pizza slices had been dropped on the linoleum floor and beer had been spilled on the counter. Half the contents of the refrigerator were strewn across the countertops, and the sink was full of dirty dishes. A couple plates had been used as ashtrays which explained the stench of cigarettes.
"God damn it, Greg!" he shouted, storming down the hallway toward his bedroom. He hurled the bedroom door open, still screaming at the top of his lungs. "What the fuck is going on?"
Greg, who was lying in bed with his arms wrapped another naked guy, jumped up, startled. With his mouth agape, he stared at Kurt for a moment. "Dude, you're home early."
Kurt was so pissed he could barely formulate words. "What the hell went on here last night? This whole place is trashed!"
"Oh man, sorry bout that. Had a few friends over, but Josh and me are gonna clean everything up. We already decided to get up early..."
"It's already after eight o'clock and my parents will be here in about three hours!"
Greg's friend had pulled the covers over his head and rolled over, apparently uninterested in the argument. "Chill out, man... I'm getting in the shower, then I'll get the place tidied up."
"TIDIED UP?? Greg, this place is utterly fucking trashed. It would take a bulldozer to tidy it up! And we have three fucking hours!"
Greg reached down and grabbed a pair of underwear from the floor, pulling them on, then stood up and stretched. He stepped over to Kurt and slapped him on the shoulder. "You need to mellow out, man. You're gonna give yourself a flippin heart attack. Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up.
"I'll be back in a minute... gotta piss like a racehorse." And then he left.
Kurt stared down at the kid in the bed-Josh, or whatever his name was-and shook his head disgustedly. He turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He stormed out to the kitchen and began picking up the mess. For the next hour, he worked non-stop, his blood pressure at a record-high level.
He heard activity in the living room, Greg running the vacuum. There was water running in the bathroom. Apparently the boys had started helping in the cleaning effort. Kurt was too angry to speak to either of them, and after another hour, things were finally at least beginning to look presentable. Kurt got out air freshener and liberally sprayed it throughout the living room and kitchen. He lit candles, and wiped down all the tables and countertops with disinfectant.
At 11:15, he finally headed for his bathroom where he planned to take a shower. He about hurled when he discovered someone had vomited all over the toilet and floor. He ran to the hall closet and found an old towel which he used to wipe it up and then used bathroom cleaner to disinfect. At last he was ready for his shower.
It was ten minutes before noon when he was finally cleaned and dressed. He yawned as he stumbled out toward his kitchen. Greg's door was closed. He stopped and knocked. He waited a few seconds-no answer. He peaked inside. The room was still a mess but the guys were gone. He closed the door. With any luck, his mom wouldn't look in there. He checked the bathroom. Surprisingly it looked and smelled clean.
He grabbed a soda from the kitchen and plopped himself in a living room chair and waited until his parents arrived fifteen minutes later.
Greg and Josh laughed as they sped away from the house that morning. "Dude, you were right. Your roommate's really fucking anal."
"Ah... well, he'll get over it. He's just like that. I told him I'd have the house clean but overslept. I just could not fuckin wake up...and my head still feels like shit. Like it's about to explode or something."
"Dude, you should just move out of there. I mean come on, that's crazy that you let that guy scream at you like that. I'd 've told him to go fuck himself."
"Nah," Greg said. "Dude, it's like I kind of deserved it. And ya know, Kurt's really a nice guy. He hardly charges me anything for living there and usually he's pretty cool. I'll just kiss his ass for the next few days and it'll be all right."
"You got the hots for him or something?" Josh asked. "I mean, he is kinda cute."
Greg shrugged. "I'd tap that. But seriously, I'm probably not his type. He'll probably hook up with a doctor or lawyer or something... not an art student like me."
"Never know," Josh said, popping a piece of gum in his mouth. He was driving and Greg was riding shotgun. He held out the gum packet, offering some to his passenger.
Greg shook his head. "Maybe I should make a peace offering or something."
"You mean like offer him head or something?"
"Might be just what he needs... or a good fuck. You think he's top or bottom?"
"He'd be a bottom by the time you got done with him," Josh said, laughing.
Greg looked out the window, feeling his crotch tightening as he thought about it. "Hm, I wouldn't care either way. I'm flexible." He smiled to himself, envisioning Kurt naked.
"Let's just go to my place," Josh suggested. "You can stay there a couple days and let your doctor-boy cool off a bit."
"He's not a doctor. He's a nurse."
"Whatever. Looked like a doctor to me...and you already said you wanted to be his patient."
Greg laughed, "True dat. Okay, you're probably right. I'll just avoid him til he's calmed down."
A few days later, Saturday morning, Kurt got up early. He had the next three days off and looked forward to his extended weekend. That was the nice thing about working the twelve hour shifts; it gave him blocks of time off. He usually worked four days on, three off.
At 7am, Kurt new that Greg would be in bed for a few more hours. That gave him plenty of time to get everything ready. He'd spent the entire week preparing the garage and gathering all the equipment he'd need. He smiled evilly as he thought about the details of his plan. By the end of the weekend, his pretty little roommate wouldn't be blowing him off any longer. Kurt planned to teach him all about the importance of following the rules and respecting authority.
After having a cup of coffee and a bagel, Kurt went out to the garage to double check everything. He scanned the room, rubbing his crotch as he did so. It sure came in handy having a friend who worked on the Renaissance Fair. Kurt grinned as he stared at the pillory that had been placed in the middle of the room. He could picture it all in his mind, how the kid would look with his smooth bare ass sticking out while his arms and neck were locked securely in the stocks.
When he got back inside, he heard water running in the bathroom. Greg was awake. Kurt's heart beat with anticipation. He'd have to catch him by surprise. As he stood outside the bathroom door, he reached into his pocket and removed the pair of handcuffs he'd gotten. A few seconds later the door opened, and Greg stepped out.
Kurt jumped into action, shoving the boy hard against the wall. Startled, he cried out, and Kurt quickly grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back. The kid was a lot smaller than him, and it wasn't difficult to overpower him. Kurt's cock throbbed as the metal clasp of the handcuff clicked into place.
"Hey!" Greg protested. His voice was still groggy, having just woken up. "Dude! Let me go! What're you doing?"
"Shut up!" Kurt demanded. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a blindfold, wrapping it securely around his prisoner's eyes.
"Now just a minute!" Greg objected. "Dude, if you wanna get kinky, hey I'm game... but this shit's kinda scarin me. I'm not ready..."
"I said shut the fuck up!" Kurt screamed into his ear. "This isn't a game. Do as you're told, and you won't get hurt."
Greg started to laugh. "Dude, you're turning me on..."
Kurt spun the kid around and slapped him across the face. "I said, SHUT UP!" He reached down and grabbed Greg's nutsac. He was only wearing boxer briefs. Kurt squeezed them hard and didn't let up until he heard his prisoner whimper.
"Owww!"
Kurt slapped him again, this time a little harder. "I have a gag. If you don't shut your trap, I'll use it. Greg's body stiffened and he grew quiet. Maybe he was starting to take this a little more seriously. "Good. From this point forward, you will speak only when spoken to, and you will address me as 'sir'. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!" Greg said enthusiastically. He was grinning as he did so. Well, perhaps he didn't quite take it as seriously as Kurt had hoped, but that'd change soon enough.
"Now, come with me," Kurt ordered. He grabbed his prisoner by the arm and led him down the long hallway toward the exit. He opened the garage door and guided Greg down the steps. The kid walked tentatively, his bare feet probably realizing the shock of the cold pavement. Kurt led the boy over to the platform which contained the stocks and told him to step up. He pushed him up close to the wooden frame and then spread his legs apart, lining them up with the restraints.
"Stay!" he ordered. "Don't move a muscle." This was working out to his advantage. Greg apparently did think this was some kind of sex game and was being fairly cooperative. Kurt knelt down and attached his prisoner's ankles with the restraints.
He then stood up and pushed Greg's upper body forward. He lowered the boy's head into the stocks, bending him slightly at the waist and resting his neck against the half-circle opening. Reaching down, he raised a bar that extended from the middle of the pillory and rested against Greg's abdomen. This prevented him from thrusting his pelvis forward and kept his ass sticking out, completely exposed.
"Wait!" Greg said. "What is this? What are you doing?"
"Shut up!" Kurt said. "You gotta trust me..."
Greg's body was tense for a moment. Even if he decided to fight, Kurt knew he'd eventually overpower the kid. His legs were already secured and his arms were cuffed behind his back. If he cooperated, though, things would go much smoother.
"Yes, sir," Greg said after a pause. Kurt looked down and saw the kid's hardon in his boxer briefs. The domination was apparently turning him on.
Quickly Kurt unlocked the handcuffs, grabbing hold of the boy's wrists and pulling them around his body. He positioned them so that his arms were in the appropriate slots. Without further warning, he reached up and pulled down the bar that fit perfectly around his prisoner's neck and wrists, and he locked it snugly in place.
Kurt stepped back and examined his handiwork. He smiled and rubbed his crotch. "Well, how's it feel, slut boy? Comfortable?" When Greg didn't immediately respond, he slapped his ass. "I asked you a question, boy!"
"No, sir!" Greg yelped. "To be honest, sir... this is starting to freak me out."
Kurt laughed. "You'll get used to it," he said. "You're gonna be there awhile."
"Kurt!" Greg protested, "Dude, wait... you're scaring me."
He again slapped the boy's ass cheeks hard with his palm. "What'd I say to call me, bitch?"
"Sir! Sir! Look... I'm sorry. Hey, can you maybe let me out and we can talk about this... establish a safeword or something. Ya know. I'm into it, I swear... but not like this." Kurt could see the kid was starting to panic, pulling hard against his restraints.
"Greg, this isn't a game. This is your punishment, and there won't be a safe word. Least not for this part of it... Bottom line is that you're being disciplined, and I don't give a fuck if you're scared or not. You're supposed to be scared."
"Punishment? For what?"
"Oh... for being such a slop. For disrespecting me and my rules. For throwing a big ass party this week and trashing the house when you knew my folks were coming."
"Man, I said I was sorry. Please, Kurt! I even helped clean it up..."
"Shut the fuck up!" Kurt screamed. "I'm tired of your excuses. You'll take your punishment like a man or you'll get the fuck out of my house. Those are the options."
Greg waiting a few seconds before replying. "Dude, are you saying if I agree to move out, you'll let me out of this thing?"
Kurt took a deep breath, thinking about the situation. "Yeah, I'll give you the choice. If you wanna pack up and get the fuck out today, I'll release you. But then I never wanna see your sorry face again."
"But... I don't want to leave...sir."
"So...?"
This time Greg sighed. "Okay, okay...I'll take the punishment."
"Very good," Kurt said, rubbing his hands together. "Wise decision. Okay, now let me explain how this is gonna work. In front of you is a table that has several instruments on it. When I take off your blindfold, you're gonna look them over and pick one. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Greg said.
Kurt stepped up on the platform and slipped off Greg's blindfold. Blinking a few times, he raised his head to look at the table which was positioned a few feet in front of him. His eyes grew wide and he gulped as he took in the sight: a long fraternity paddle with holes in it, a leather strop, a cattail whip, and a cane.
"Fuck," he whispered.
"Huh?" Kurt said. "What'd you say, boy?"
"I...I...uh...SIR!"
Kurt grinned as he stared down at his defenseless prisoner. Greg was a sight for sore eyes, bent over like that with his ass sticking out and his neck and wrists locked securely in the stocks. The way that his ankles were restrained prevented him from repositioning himself at all for comfort.
"Well, I guess if you don't want to choose the weapon, I'll do it for you."
"No!" Greg blurted out. "I'll choose. Um. Well... I guess the paddle."
Kurt smiled broadly. "I see. And why, may I ask did you choose that over, say, the strop?"
"I don't know!" Greg said. His voice was high pitched, probably from fear. "I just know I don't want the whip, and I sure as hell don't want the fuckin cane!"
"Hm, well we'll have to see if you live to regret your decision." Kurt stepped off the platform and walked over to the corner. He knew Greg could still see him. "Because now that we've determined the method of discipline, we have to decide how much."
"What do ya mean?" Greg said. "You mean, how many swats?"
Kurt nodded. "Precisely. I've been giving this whole thing a lot of thought. Just how much is too much? And how much is not enough?"
"Ten!" Greg suggested. "Ten swats..."
Kurt shook his head and laughed. "You are such a funny, funny boy. You think ten measly swats with a wooden paddle is gonna make up for all the headache you've put me through since you moved in here? All the filthy, nasty, rank socks and underwear you've left lying around? All the trash and junk you manage to spread all over the house? All the disgusting, putrid stench that wafts out of your bathroom every time I walk by? Hah! What a fuckin joke! Ten swats!" Kurt burst into laughter.
Greg's face was now beet red. "What then...sir?"
Kurt bent over and picked up a laundry basket that was stored in the corner. Dangling off the rim of the basket was a pair of latex gloves. Kurt snapped them onto his hands after setting the basket on the table in front of Greg.
"I took the liberty of collecting a few things over the past few days. Now mind you, these are all things I gathered after we cleaned the house the day my parents were here. Do any of these things look familiar to you?" The basket contained a pile of what appeared to be dirty clothes.
"Yeah. Or I mean, yes, Sir. It looks like socks and underwear..."
Kurt nodded. "Among other things," he clarified. "Let's see what we have here. He reached in and pulled out a filthy sock. It was an athletic sock, originally white, but the sole looked almost black. It was no surprise. Greg's bedroom floor didn't look like it'd ever been vacuumed since the day he moved in. It was no wonder his socks were so disgusting. "Of course you left this on the floor in the living room. How many swats would you say this is worth?"
"Uh...I don't know...sir. One?"
"One, huh? Okay, well let's make a rule. If the article is something you'd be willing to put in your mouth, I'll give you one swat. If you refuse to take it in your mouth and suck on it for at least ten seconds, then it's worth three swats. If you won't even allow it near your nose, it's worth five."
"No way!" Greg protested, pulling against the restraints. "That's not fair!"
Kurt made a tsking sound with his tongue and shook his head. "Dude, do you really think you're in a position here where you have much bargaining power? We can cooperate and do this together, or I'll just count up all these items, multiply the count by five, and start whakin ya."
"Come on, man! Please! How about twenty?"
"Twenty swats," Kurt said. "You think by the time we count up this laundry we'll have a number less than twenty? You know if you're willing to suck on some of these socks and underwear, you can really reduce your swat count."
"I won't do it!" he cried.
"Hmm, okay, then let's count em. One, two, three...." Kurt pulled each item out of the basket and placed it on the table. In total there were fifteen items. "Okay... so there are fifteen items, and you say you won't suck any of them for ten seconds?"
"No!" Greg shouted.
"All right. So fifteen times five is...seventy-five?"
"Please, no!" Greg cried.
"Of course if you're willing to sniff each one of them, then you could get that number down to forty-five. Three times fifteen is forty-five, right?"
"All right! I'll sniff them... but I'm not sucking on any rank socks!"
"Or underwear? I see some of these have skid marks in em."
"No way!"
Kurt laughed. "I'll tell ya what. I'll let you sniff each one of them. If there are any you're willing to suck on after sniffing them, you can reduce your swats. Let's do these in increments of five. We'll go through the first five items and then I'll deliver your swats, and maybe that will help you decide how you want to continue."
"Sir... can't you just swat me twenty times and let me blow you? Can't we work out a bargain like that?"
"Now that you mention it," Kurt said. "A blowjob would be nice... but we'll talk about that after the punishment." He picked up one of the filthy socks and stepped up to the platform. He held it under Greg's nose, who quickly made a face and closed his eyes. "Sniff it," Kurt ordered. "Take a nice big wiff!" He shoved it closer to the kid's face, grinding it into his nostrils.
"Oh God!" he screamed. "That shit's nasty!"
"Oh but I know. I know exactly how nasty it is.. because you leave it lying around my house every fuckin day! So you tell me, mouth or extra swats?"
"Swats!" he cried.
"Okay... so that's three. Let's move on." He picked up the next item, a pair of underwear. "Found these in the bathroom," Kurt said. "Good God, just how long do you wear a pair of undies anyway. These are disgusting!" He shoved them in Greg's face.
"Yuck!" he screamed and started to wretch.
Kurt laughed. "Should I go get a bucket?" he asked. "Gonna toss your cookies?"
"Swats!" Greg screamed. "I'll take the swats! Just get em the fuck away from me!"
Kurt tossed them back in the basket. "Okay... so we're up to six." He went through the next three items, and got exactly the same result each time. "Hmm, so we start with fifteen," Kurt surmised. He stepped over to the table and picked up the paddle. "Oh wait! We can't have this... you still have your panties on!"
Kurt stepped over to the bench against the wall and pulled out a drawer. "This ought a do the trick," he said, holding up what looked to be a large hunting knife.
"Wait! What're you doing with that thing?" Greg asked.
Kurt moved closer to him, holding the knife up. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you...unless you don't hold still and I accidentally slip." He placed the paddle down on the platform and grabbed hold of the leg of Greg's underwear. He slid the knife in, the blade pressed flat against Greg's smooth ass cheek. He could see Greg tense us, and he smiled, holding the knife in place a few seconds longer than he needed. Quickly he twisted the knife, stabbing the cotton fabric of the underwear with the blade as he pulled the knife outward. It rended the fabric easily. He slid the blade all the way up to the waistband, which he had to pull out slightly with his other hand in order to slice through it with the sharp blade. He then repeated his action on the other leg of the underwear until at last they fell off.
"Very nice," Kurt observed, taking in the sight of his roommate's bare ass for the first time. "You really do have a nice little bubble butt," he complimented him. "But it's just so pale. Kurt stepped up on the platform behind his prisoner and ran the palm of his hand across Greg's exposed ass cheeks.
As he drew his arm back, raising the paddle into a swing position, he felt his heartbeat quicken. His own cock was throbbing in anticipation. "Count em out for me, bitch boy," he commanded as he swung the paddle forcefully, connecting dead-center in the middle of the two perfect globes. The whooshing noise the paddle made as it swept through the air, followed by the loud crack of the hard wood against the prisoner's soft flesh, was the most magnificent sound Kurt had ever heard. Hearing the sudden cry of his victim as Greg's body jerked reflexively was merely an added bonus.
"One!" Greg shouted. "...Sir."
Kurt laughed evilly. "One down, fourteen to go," he said. "And that's only the first round."
Whoosh! Whack! He delivered the second blow.
"Two, sir!" Greg's muscles had tightened already, and his voice was strained.
Whoosh! Whack!
"Three, sir!" He sounded as if on the verge of tears, and Kurt noticed his ass was already reddening. He wound up for the next blow.
Whoosh! Whack!
"Aaahhh!" He jerked against his restraints, trying futilely to thrust his pelvis forward, to reposition himself in some way to respond to the pain. He was trapped, though, unable to move even slightly.
"Call it out, bitch, or the count starts over," Kurt sadistically threatened.
"Four, sir!"
Kurt's cock throbbed in his scrub pants as he saw the boy stretched on the pillory, his body now beginning to sweat and his ass cheeks turning bright red. Kurt reeled back his arm once more and delivered the fifth blow, harder than ever.
"Oh God! AAAAAHHHH! Fi-eye-ive Sir!"
"Fuck yeah," Kurt said, rubbing his hardon. "And you still have ten more swats!"
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He delivered the next three in succession.
"Please sir! Oh God, Kurt... puh-leez stop!" Greg begged him.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
"Noooo! I'm begging you!" He was jerking frantically, trying to pull his arms and legs free.
"You have four more, you little wimp," Kurt said flatly. "Quit your bawling and take it like a man!"
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
At this point the kid was sobbing, his ass cheeks beginning to turn purple. Kurt stepped off the platform and walked around to the front of the pillory. The kid's face was streaked with sweat and tears as he looked up at him, using his big, round eyes to plead for mercy.
"Okay, that completes the first round," Kurt said casually. "We still have ten more articles of clothing on the table. If you refuse to sniff them, that'll be fifty more swats. If you do sniff them, that'll be thirty. If you suck on them, then it's only ten."
"Sir, I can't! I can't suck those nasty things. If you put them in my mouth, I'll puke!"
"All right," Kurt said, thinking about it for a minute. "I'll make you a deal. I'll show you mercy, but you have to compromise with me."
"Anything!" he pleaded. "I'll do anything you say!"
"Okay, here is the deal. If you agree to suck on one item from the clothes pile, I'll reduce your swats to ten. But you also have to keep your bedroom and bathroom spotless for the next month, do all your laundry, do all the vacuuming, all the dishes, and wash and wax my car once a week."
"Yes! I'll do it... oh please."
"I'm not done yet," Kurt said. "And you have to blow me...whenever I want."
"Yes!" he cried, without even stopping to think about it.
Kurt smiled smugly. "Well, that was almost a little too easy. But there's still some nasty shit left in this pile."
"Can I pick out the item, sir?" Greg pleaded.
Kurt shook his head rapidly back and forth. "Oh no, no, no.... you silly boy. Of course you don't get to pick out the item. I will select the item, and then I'm gonna stuff it in your mouth and beat your ass ten more times while you suck on it. That way I don't have to listen to you whine like a fuckin baby."
Greg looked up at him, staring him in the eyes. "Please, Kurt... can't we take a break?"
"Shut up," Kurt said calmly. "One more word and the deals off. I'll just gag ya and beat your ass til my arm gets tired. That could be hours from now."
The kid looked up at him, terrified.
"Okay, what the fuck is this?" Still wearing the latex gloves, he reached down and picked up a crusty athletic sock. The sole was nearly pitch black. "What'd you do, wear this sock for a week without washing it? Looks like you walked around in the mud or something." Greg stared at it, wide eyed, as Kurt dangled it in the air before his face. "It's pretty fuckin rank, too," Kurt said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "I think this will work nicely."
The past few days had gone very well for Greg. He'd felt like such a jerk that day he let Kurt down, and even though Kurt was annoying and anal at times, Greg really respected the guy. That's why he'd made such an effort to try making it up to his landlord-roommate.
If Greg were to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd always admired Kurt. His physical appearance alone was admirable. At thirty he was in great shape, and Greg had always had a thing for older men. Greg loved Kurt's dark features. His close-cropped jet black hair and dark brown eyes were incredibly sexy, and he had a fantastic upper body.
Yeah, he'd known since the day he moved in that Kurt was a hottie, and he'd had his share of fantasies about what the two of them could do together. As Greg lay in bed at night, there were times he'd jack off thinking about his roommate. Although he'd seen him shirtless a few times, he'd never gotten a glimpse of the dude's cock, but the fact that he often wore those scrubs made it easy to tell when he was aroused.
Greg imagined what it'd be like to be on his knees servicing that big boner of Kurt's. He thought about how bossy the guy got when he was pissed, and Greg fantasized about him being like that during sex. He bet Kurt was a really wild fuck. He'd undoubtedly be very dominant and aggressive, and that turned Greg on.
Most of the dudes Greg went out with were twinks like himself, but this wasn't the kind of guy that he really wanted. He wanted someone more stable and mature. He wanted a man who had his act together, who could give him security and something more than just a hot scene in the bedroom. He doubted very much that any of his feelings about Kurt were reciprocal. It was kind of obvious that Kurt didn't even like him that much. Well, truthfully, Greg couldn't blame him. He'd been pretty lazy and had taken Kurt's generosity for granted. Kurt didn't even charge him that much for rent. The least Greg should do would be to keep his room clean and help with the housework.
So when Greg got home that week, he resolved to do better. He didn't leave messes in the kitchen and living room. He picked up his towels from the bathroom and tried to keep it relatively clean. He still needed to tackle his bedroom, but for now he'd just try to remember to keep the door shut so Kurt didn't have to see-or smell-it.
On Saturday morning when he stumbled out of bed, he had to piss like a motherfucker. He looked around his trashed room and decided that would be his project for the day. After he was fully awake, he'd get it cleaned up. He stumbled across the hall and into the bathroom to relieve himself. When he was done, he stepped back into the hall and was suddenly assaulted. Kurt grabbed him from behind and thrust him against the wall.
At first Greg was startled and confused, but as soon as it became apparent that Kurt wanted to get a little kinky, Greg began to get turned on. The handcuffs and blindfold were fuckin rad. He'd never have suspected Kurt would be that kind of guy, but Greg liked it. As excited as he was at the time, being cuffed and blindfolded by his dream lover and led down a long hallway to face a destiny he was oblivious to, Greg was also a little bit nervous. It was hard for him to decipher whether Kurt was genuinely pissed at him or if this was all just a hot scene.
When the blindfold was removed and he found himself locked in a pillory, Greg started to realize that this was not all fun and games. Kurt was dead serious, and the thing that was really scary is that he seemed to really enjoy being mean. Greg had seen Kurt upset before, but he never imagined him to be sadistic. It was when Kurt threatened to evict him that Greg fully realized how angry Kurt really was.
Greg had never thought of himself as someone who enjoyed pain. Sure, he'd done some kinky stuff before. He dated a guy once that liked using nipple clamps and he'd done some playful spanking on occasion. But he'd never really thought of doing a bondage scene where someone was locked up in a set of Medieval stocks-especially not when that someone was him!
Surprisingly, the scene turned him on. When he saw Kurt pick up that paddle and slap it against his palm, Greg's cock began to harden. It was crazy. He was totally defenseless. The holes in which his neck and wrists were trapped afforded him no mobility whatsoever. He couldn't budge, and so as his raging hardon throbbed in his boxer briefs, he didn't even have the ability to reach down and touch himself. When Kurt then used the big knife to cut his underpants to shreds, Greg was utterly exposed. It was humiliating, having his roommate see him boned like that, defenseless and totally at his mercy.
The first three swats weren't so bad, but after that point, it became unbearable. He'd never felt anything like it. His ass was literally on fire, and that stinging didn't even have a chance to subside before the next blow was delivered. It was stupid of Greg to even try to free himself or pull against his restraints. He knew he was trapped, but he began to panic. The pain was so excruciating that he couldn't help himself. He began to jerk his arms and legs, trying to pull free.
Once the first round of spankings was complete, Greg realized he'd better come up with a different strategy. He was already exhausted and his wrists and ankles were raw. He was sweating profusely, and his arms and legs ached. Worst of all, his ass was inflamed in a way he'd never imagined possible. Thank God he'd chosen the paddle and not the strop or the cane.
When Kurt held up the nasty sock in front of Greg's face, he bit his lip nervously and began to shake his head. "Dude, please! I can't do it. It'll make me puke." Why hadn't he cleaned his room sooner? If he'd just done so, Kurt never would have found all those filthy clothes lying all over the floor.
"Open!" Kurt said, as he stepped closer.
"Wait, please... Kurt, please just listen to me."
"We worked out a deal. Open your fuckin mouth now, or the whole thing's off. You can either take your fifty swats or get the fuck out of here."
"Can we use a different one? Can we use one of your socks...?"
Kurt lowered the sock and stared at his captive for a moment. "Hmm," he said, as if thinking. "You'd rather suck on one of my socks than your own?"
"Yes, sir!" Greg pleaded.
"One of these socks here that I've been wearing all morning? Walking around in them on this dirty cement garage floor?"
"Yes, sir!" Greg said, now whimpering. "Please..."
"Why? Cause you know they won't be as dirty as these disgusting things?"
Well, that was a big part of it, Greg had to admit. But that wasn't the only reason. The idea of Kurt's sweaty, soiled socks in his mouth didn't seem to gross him out as much for some reason. In fact, it kind of excited him. "That's not it," Greg said. "Yeah, they're probably not as dirty, but even if they are, they're your socks, and they've been on your feet."
Kurt burst into laughter. He stepped to the side a bit and glanced down. "Holy shit, you're rock hard thinking about it!"
Greg's face suddenly felt like it was about as red as his ass.
"You are a little bitch," Kurt said. "You're a nasty little bitch. You wanna worship my feet and suck on my rank, sweaty socks while I beat your ass. Don't ya boy?"
"Yes, sir," Greg confessed, looking down at the ground shamefully.
After a moment, Greg heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Kurt removing his socks, one at a time. He held them up and looked at them. "Eww," he said as he examined the soiled soles. "This is what you want in your mouth?"
"Yes, sir...please!"
Kurt held them up to Greg's nose. "Sniff em. Get a good whiff." Obediently Greg inhaled. They weren't half as bad as what he knew his own crusty sock would have been. "Open!" Kurt commanded, and then stuffed both socks into his prisoner's gaping mouth.
At first it wasn't so bad. All Greg could taste was the cotton fabric, but after a moment when they began to absorb his saliva, the foot odor began to flood his mouth. "How's it taste?" Kurt said, laughing.
Greg could only mumble a response.
Kurt then stepped back and removed his shirt, pulling it over his head. He was apparently beginning to work up a sweat. He stepped around the pillory and resumed his position on the platform. Greg knew what was coming and closed his eyes tightly in anticipation. His entire body was tense, and he felt the tug of the ankle restraints, stretching his hamstrings as he thrust his abdomen into the bar that pressed against it. He heard Kurt raise the paddle, then the whooshing sound. He bit hard on the socks in his mouth as the weapon cracked against his vulnerable ass cheeks.
Greg moaned loudly into his gag. He took a deep breath through his nose and braced himself again. Whack! Over and over, the blows were delivered. Kurt wasted no time with this round, which actually was a blessing. Although it was excruciatingly painful, Greg wanted it just to be over. On the eighth swat, he didn't think he could go on. Sweat and tears poured down his cheeks.
"Nine!" Kurt shouted as he whacked him again, then quickly delivered the final blow.
Greg's body was shaking, in shock from the assault. He'd never felt such excruciating pain, and it was only a total of twenty-five swats. He had no idea how some people were capable of enduring floggings and canings. Merely at the hands of a paddle, Greg had been reduced to a pathetic, broken crybaby.
In spite of it all, he remained rock hard. His ass was on fire. Every muscle in his body was screaming. He felt demoralized and defeated. Yet he was aroused like never before. He just lay there, slumped over in his restrained position, the sock gag still in his mouth and tears still streaming down his cheeks.
Kurt stepped around the pillory and placed the paddle on the table. "Fuck!" he said.
Greg opened his mouth and spit out the gag. "Sir..." he whimpered. "Thank you. Thank you for not kicking me out. Thank you for giving me another chance... for punishing me!"
Kurt reached up and unlatched the hook that held the bar in place over Greg's head. He lifted it up then stepped around onto the platform once more. As Greg felt Kurt pull him upright, he turned to the bigger man and wrapped his limp arms around his neck. Greg sobbed as he buried his face in Kurt's bare, muscular chest. For some reason, Kurt allowed it. Greg felt him wrap his arms around him and hold him, giving Greg as much time as he needed.
Yes, the pain had been horrendous--probably the worst thing Greg had ever experienced-but this was not the cause of his emotion. The remorseful feelings the boy experienced were a result of his humiliation. He felt as if he had utterly failed the one person he admired most. Yet he also felt relief and gratitude. He was glad it was over, that he'd paid his dues and endured his punishment. Of this he could be proud, and he was thankful Kurt had given him a chance, rather than just discarding him.
Kurt leaned over and unlatched the restraints on the boy's ankles. As soon as Kurt stood back up, Greg lowered himself to his knees. "Please Master," he said, "let me serve you."
To be continued.