. . . CONTINUED FROM PART 1
Shane Hanrahan, new personal trainer to up-and-coming artist Kevin, has been employing old-fashioned discipline to help motivate the latter. But Kevin, who is recovering from a relationship with an abusive boyfriend (God, this is sounding just like a daytime soap, isn't it?) gets a fit of the giggles and when an annoyed Shane appears to be about to hit him he reacts with undisguised terror. Now read on . . .
The effect on Shane was extraordinary. You'd have thought it was him that had been hit. His face went white under the tan and he looked sick, physically sick.
I stared in amazement.
"Christ," he said disgustedly. "You didn't think I was going to hit you, did you ?"
I twisted my head to look down at my bruised backside, and then back at him. I never said a word, but he blushed.
"Yeah, but that's different. I'll spank you if I think you need it - and you did, believe me. But I've never had anyone look at me like that - and I don't want anyone to look at me like that again. Not with terror in their eyes."
"I - I'm sorry," I said at last. "It brought back bad memories."
"You used to get beaten up ?"
"I - things - my former partner used to - and my dad, when I was little, sometimes. Mostly he hit my mum, but if we got in the way . . . And with Robert it was just the same in the end, the not knowing, the wondering what would set him off, walking around on eggshells. And I just couldn't - it was - it was . . . " and about that point I ran out of words, and somehow I was in his arms, with my head on his shoulder, crying my eyes out. And one of those big, strong hands was stroking my hair while the other patted my shoulders and he made soothing noises like you do to a small child : "Shsh, shsh, it's all right, it's all right Kevin mate, no worries now."
"Oh God, " I said finally, "whad bust you dhink ob be ?" Well, all that crying had kind of stuffed me up. I made an effort to stand up and he let go of me, almost with reluctance. "I'b a derrible wimp, aren'd I ?"
"You don't have to be macho to be strong," he said simply. "And you got rid of this - Robert, was it ? - in the end, so there must be some strength in there." I smiled weakly, but I was terribly embarassed. I mean the guy was the next thing to a total stranger, and we seemed to have gone through a whole opera's worth of emotions.
I think he must have been embarassed too - for God's sake the guy was probably straight, and here he was with some weepy queen breaking down in his arms. Anyway, in the old tabloid journalist's parlance he made his excuses and left.
I went and washed my face, and went and sat down. And got up again, smartish. With all the excitment I'd almost forgotten that I'd had a really thorough spanking. I went and got that pack of frozen peas, and sat down, very cautiously this time, cursing Shane Hanrahan and all his works under my breath. The utter officious managing bastard. How dare he ? I hated him, really hated him. And yet, although the memory of those hands on my bum was still vivid in my memory (and vividly marked on my arse, too), somehow it was the same hands stroking my hair that left a more vivid image.
I sighed. I didn't expect I'd see him again. It must all have been really embarassing for him, although I supposed that eventually it would become a funny anecdote to tell people at dinner parties, or mates down the pub, or whatever.
But the next day (after sleeping on my stomach, I might add) I got up early just in case. Eight o'clock came and went, so that was it. No show.
"Just as well," I said to myself aloud (Oh God, now I was talking to myself. I'd have to get a cat or something). "I couldn't be doing with himat all."
The bell went.
"What are you looking so happy about ?" said Shane, surprised.
"Am I ? Oh nothing, really, nothing at all. It's just such a lovely day, isn't it."
"It's raining," he pointed out.
"Is it ? I'm sure it will brighten up later. Come in then."
Shaking his head in bewilderment he followed me in.
"Would you like a cup of coffee ?" I asked. Jesus, why was I gushing like a schoolgirl on a first date ? I didn'tlikethe guy. In fact, I reminded myself sternly, you absolutely detest him.
"Er, er no, thank you. Shouldn't really take on a fluid load just before working out. Either of us," he added firmly, taking my mug off me and putting down on the breakfast bar. "I'll have ot speak to you about your diet later, but let's get into the warm-up exercises first."
"OK," I said, looking back a bit reluctantly at that mug of freshly brewed Sumatran Blue Lingtong. And we started. It wasn't as bad as yesterday - well, let's face it, what could have been ? - but it wasn't exactly joy unbounded, either. And Shaun was -well, a bit odd, very brusque and businesslike. After a few minutes the penny dropped that he didn't want to give up this job, probably owed Daniel a favour, but at the same time was uncomfortable being around a gay man. So he was trying his best to keep it cool and professional, although I did notice a twisted little half-smile when he made me sit down on the hard wooden floor to do sit-ups, and I couldn't keep from wincing. I still had a crop of little blue bruises and finger outlines right across my backside - I knew, because I'd checked that morning when I got out of the shower.
By the time we finished and did a warm-down set I was red-faced and sweating but I did feel a certain glow, part physical, partly psychological at achieving more than I would have dreamed I could. He handed me a diet sheet and told me to look through it, and then he was off, before I could even ask him if he wanted that coffee now. I felt a bit put out about that, actually.
The next two days were exactly the same, and by the end of the week I was getting more than a little pissed off by it. Thursday night I put his ridiculous diet sheet in the bin and went out for a curry with an old friend. No, an oldfemalefriend, as it happens, not that it's any of your business, and we spent the night agreeing how ghastly men were, if only some of them weren't so cute as well.
So I wasn't at my best on Friday morning when he arrived, and I was bit cool with him, to be honest, which I think rather took him aback because I'd been nice as pie during the week, just in case. Of course after last night's heavy meal I made really heavy weather of the exercises too, even the easy ones I'd been sailing though earlier on in the week.
"What is the matter with you this morning ?" he snapped at last. "You know you can do better than that. Come on, another five."
"I can't," I groaned. "It's all the chicken makanwalla and rogan josh I had last night."
"That's really fatty food," he complained. "You should be following that diet sheet I gave you -plenty of raw fruit and vegetables, protein in moderation, not a lot of fat."
"Oh give me a break," I exploded. He pursed his lips.
"Weighing scales," he said. This was part of the routine: regular weight monitoring. Of course, after last night's little escapade I was five pounds heavier.
"That is not on," he said. "I see that I'll have to supply a little motivation in that area too."
"Oh, now wait," I said, backing away. If he thought I was going to lie there and take another spanking from him, the big homophobic lunk, he had another think coming. At least provided I could get to the bathroom and lock the door before he . . .
"Ouch, that hurts," I complained as he lunged and grabbed my wrists. "Get off me !"
"It won't be your wrists that hurt in minute," he promised grimly.
"No ! Oww ! Let me go !" But despite my struggles he knelt down, pulling me across his thighs and locking me into position. I might just as well have co-operated for all the good it did me - his arms were like steel hawsers. I had no strength to resist him. I felt his hand in the back of my shorts.
"No. Please." The last word came out more plaintively than I'd intended. He sniffed, and my shorts came down to mid thigh, baring my still slightly bruised bum for his eyes.
"Now, you're going to co-operate about the diet from now on, aren't you ?" he said.
"Yes, yes, of course I am," I agreed. I would have agreed to anything at that moment.
"Good. And just to make sure you remember. . ."
WHACK ! Owoo, that hurt. WHACK. WHACK. WHACK. WHACK. WHACK. He settled into a rhythm, his palm striking full force against my unprotected cheeks. By the time he had finished my backside was extremely hot and sore, but somehow I had the distinct impresion that his heart wasn't in it: it certainly wasn't anything like as bad as the first time.
He let me go, and I hastily pulled up my shorts.
"You get off on this," I said crossly.
"I'm just doing my job," he replied, equally crossly. "If you would put a bit of effort into it, I wouldn't have to."
"Ooh, get her. You sound like my mother, darling."
"And don't do that !"
"What ?" I enquired, all wide-eyed innocence.
"You know -flouncelike that." Well, I tell you, I roared with laughter. I mean, flounce, indeed. Who the hell says flounce ? But of course I should have figured that camping it up would get on his nerves. So naturally, I did it all the more. Not only did I flounce, I minced, sashayed, wiggled, giggled, and generally was positively girlish. Because if he didn't like poofs I was determined to remind him that most certainly was one, and tough on him. And he got shorter and shorter with me for the rest of the session, but of course, I was very careful to put every bit of effort I could into actually doing the exercises, and so what could he do ? Nothing, except simmer quietly.
Then I made my fatal slip. I just got a wee bit carried away with giving him a hard time, and well, yes, I suppose I did get a bit lippy. 'Boneheaded breeders' was just a phrase too far.
I found myself on the floor, pinned down in a wrestling hold.
"You have to push it, don't you ?" he roared, his face inches from mine. "You just have to push at the envelope. No wonder people want to beat you up - it's not them, it's because you're impossible !"
I opened my mouth to say that that was a bit of a low blow and he silenced me, quickly and effectively, by fastening his mouth over mine and giving me a kiss that _d_a_m_n_ed near sucked my tonsils out.
When I recovered from my stunned surprise, I found myself responding with an enthusiasm that surprised me. My goodness, that kiss nearly killed me with oxygen starvation, and the way his lips and tongue worked over mine I thought he was going to chew half my face off. My hands worked their way down his back to slip into his shorts and discover cheeks as hard and firm as wood. Meanwhile my own shorts were coming down for the second time that day, those big spade-shaped hands caressing and squeezing the arse they had so recently been setting ablaze.
With frenzied haste we tore our remaining clothes off and began a frantic exploration of one another's naked bodies with hands, lips, and tongues. He was beautifully defined, his body bronzed and covered in wiry golden hair, his prick not as long as some I've had but thick and rock hard, jumping with the rapid beating of his heart and already drooling a thin stream of clear pre-come. I knew I wanted him in me, buried in the heart of me.
I whispered in his ear, my urgency answering his, and he lifted me bodily and carried me up the stairs to the sleeping platform, my legs wrapped around his waist, the tip of his prick nuzzling against me as we moved, my own rampant erection pressed tight against his hot body. We fell onto the bed and I fumbled for the condoms and lube, hastily unrolled a rubber over his stiff member then passed him the lubricant and rolled onto my stomach. His finger probed at my anus and I arched in helpless pleasure as it slid in, feeling the cool slickness of the lube. A second finger probed me deliciously, before they both withdrew. I made a faint sound of disappointment.
"Patience," he whispered. Hurriedly he slathered more lube onto his swollen _d_i_c_k_. Then I felt it: the tip of his manhood resting against my arsehole. I almost came on the spot with excitement. In contrast to our earlier, almost convulsive moves, now he was slow and patient, entering me gently, giving my arse time to adjust to his thickness. I could feel the sphincter stretching to accomodate him. He thrust a little more, a moment of pain and then a pause, and then finally slid all the way in. I felt as I always feel with a man's _c_o_c_k_ right inside me: warm and fulfilled.
He kissed me again, kissed the back of my neck, my ears and my throat, and I purred with pleasure. Then he withdrew about half his length and began thrusting, and I began trying to match my movements to his, lifting my arse as he thrust so that the massive _c_o_c_k_ head ground deep into me, his weight and strength pushing me back down into the bed each time, grinding my own _c_o_c_k_ against the bedclothes. I was ready to come . . . I was coming. I could feel my muscles convulsing in waves around the meat sheathed deep inside me, felt him gasp and shudder as my reaction pushed him past the point of no return and he exploded in his own convulsive orgasm, his hands tightening on my upper arms with a strength that would leave bruises the next day. I didn't care, I was in ecstasy. I like _s_e_x_. I like getting _f_u_c_k_ed, but it's never been this good. Not the first time.
Our breathing gradually slowed as we laid there, still locked together. Finally he withdrew his softening but still respectably sized _c_o_c_k_ from me and removed the condom carefully. Then he pulled away with a groan, and sat on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands in an attitude of utter despair.
"W-what's the matter ?" I asked, brought back down to earth with a bump. Oh God, don't tell me that he's a closet case who'll blame me for seducing him. Or he already has a jealous boyfriend.
"I'm really sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."
"Why ? I mean I wanted it, that must have been obvious. And so did you."
"I've been wanting it since the first day !" he burst out. "You're impossible, but I've never met anyone like you. I fancied you like crazy, that's why I had to try so hard not to show it. It was sheer hell trying to be 'hands off' when I was torn between spanking you silly and _f_u_c_k_ing you silly. "
"Now you've done both," I pointed out with a grin. "So what's the problem ?"
"I can't ! I mean I shouldn't. I'm your trainer. It's not professional !"
"That's it ? That's your big problem ?"
"I. don't. screw. my. clients." he ground out. I could hear the full stop after each word.
I shook my head, laughing.
"My dear boy," I said. "I have the solution to your problem."
"What ?"
"Resign the job."
He looked shocked for a moment, then hung his head.
"Yeah, I suppose I don't blame you," he said. "I'll get my things on the way out. Don't worry, I'll let Danny know it was my fault it didn't work out, maybe he'll be able to get you someone else."
"Well, like you said, you can't screw your clients," I said sternly.
He nodded sadly.
"But you could train your boyfriend," I added.
"What ?"
"Come on, we're great together. I want you. I think I want you to be part of my life."
A stupid grin began to spread across his face.
"You mean . . ."
"What did you think I meant ?" I said.
"You little beaut !" he cried, and then we were in each others' arms again. I was sore, flushed, sweaty, and higher than a kite, without chemical assistance. I was happy, I realised. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so happy.
"You realise that if I am going to keep on training you you have to take it seriously, boyfriend or no boyfriend ?" he murmured, as we came up for air.
"I'll be good," I said.
"Now that's stretching belief," he laughed.
"OK, then I give you full permission to spank me as often and as hard as necessary when I'm not good."
"You realise what you're saying ? I'll hold you to it," he warned.
And he has, too. Beware of promises made in the first flush of love, they can come back to haunt you, and my bottom has the marks to prove it. But I've learned - not to exactly enjoy the spankings themselves, because they _d_a_m_n_ed well hurt, especially when he takes a fancy to introduce me to the paddle, or to demonstrate that there are other uses for a belt than holding up your trousers -but to relish his strength, his dominance, his refusal to accept anything less than the best from me.
I also have a 32 inch waist again, and I wouldn't change the big lunk for anything, not even to take that ridiculously smug expression off Daniel's face every time we meet and he congratulates himself on how successful his matchmaking was. In fact we're off down to Daniel's for the weekend, and unless I get a move on, I think it's going to be an uncomfortable ride down there for me.
Oh Shane, there you are. I'm just coming, honestly, as soon as I finish this . . . OW !