Story of Tj: Part Xxv - Hero of the Day


by Paul Frey <Frey769@hotmail.com>

Mr Jackson drove to a motel and checked us in. He hadn´t said a word to me since the parking lot. I was too tired to care by now. I just hoped he´d give me some of that bread before I hit the sack and that I´d be spared from any consequences of the Conway Adventure.

We got an ordinary motel room, colourless, sparsely furnished, smelling of loneliness and detergents. I was allowed another fourth of the bread and washed it down with two bottles of mineral water. Mr Jackson had a cheeseburger with fries and the smell of it filled the room. He kept his silence. After the meal he ordered me into the shower and gave me 10 minutes there, all by myself, which was like a hot trip to paradise. Mr Jackson was in and out of the bathroom all the time, though. When he opened the door and told me time was up I quickly dried myself and reached for my clothes, only to find they weren´t there. I swept the towel round my hips and went into the room, apprehensively.

Mr Jackson was in the chair by the window, holding a dogwhip in his right hand.

"Over here, Jennings", he said, pointing in front of him. I obeyed. I didn´t understand why he was about to whip me but I sure hoped he would explain it. "Drop the towel." I did, feeling very awkward. I had half a stiffie on from the hot shower, and it became obvious without the weight of the towel, and embarrassment on top of that.

"I´ve given this some serious thinking", he said. "You´ve done well today. Mr Pescoe was a piece of cake, the Simkins were tougher and the Conways even more so. You got it together quite nicely in the end. Still, you ran off, you took the liberty of making a speech in which you praised yourself to be independent and in charge of your life and you stole mr Conway´s wallet." I immediately blushed. I´d been sure he hadn´t noticed. "Where did you put it? Get it out and give it to me."

"I don´t have it, sir. I dropped it in a bush. I didn´t steal it to keep it, sir."

"To teach them a lesson, no doubt?"

"Yes, sir."

"You´re not in a position where you´re allowed to teach anybody anything, Jennings. You´re the one who´s getting taught. Now, I want you to remember this by giving you fifteen cuts of the crop, and you´re going to get them over my knee, because your behaviour was very childish and children get spanked this way. It will be very uncomfortable for you in a double sense, and I hope this will straighten you out for tomorrow."

"Permission to speak, sir?"

Mr Jackson sighed and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"For the love of god, Jennings, can´t you just bend over and take it? What´s up now?"

"Sir, I did my best at the Conway´s. I asked for your help but you told me to figure it out on my own. Sir, I don´t think it´s fair I´m getting punished for that."

"Questioning my judgement just rendered you another five. Now, put the towel over my knees and position yourself. I want your ass as far up as possible and your legs straight."

I did what he told me to. I was still blushing and very embarrassed. When I bent down over his knee I had to place my dick against his right leg, and adjusting myself into position made it harden from the friction. I reluctantly could accept being punished but I prayed that pain would take care of my unruly willie. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on keeping my balance, having to support my bodyweight with my hands on the floor.

"I have no patience to go through the one, sir – thank you, sir-routine tonight. I´ll give you the twenty and when I´m done, I expect you to thank me and then go stand in the corner by your bed for twenty minutes, your face to the wall and hands on your back but off your ass. Clear enough, TJ?"

"Yes, sir."

"OK. Here you are. And give a thorough thought to what I told you while you´re having it."

I don´t know what´s worst. Getting the strokes one by one with a pause in between hurts very much, as the pain of each is allowed to follow it´s whole curve and you´re forced to feel every inch of it. You´re able to relieve some of it by concentrating on the present and the ritual in itself helps to ride it out. Getting serial whipped gives you no opportunity to compose yourself and the pain is more intense, but on the other hand it´s a quicker business. One way or another, it´s pure torment. I tried to lay still and just endure, but soon enough I couldn´t keep from wriggling and squirming, and despite the pain my _c_o_c_k_ grew harder all the time, mixing pain and lust into an unholy brew. I felt like a freak. I couldn´t keep myself from rubbing and pressing down against his leg even more than the crop caused me to, and in the middle of my suffering, gasping from the pain, I could feel my whole body getting ready to unload.

Now, I´m not a four second guy. I´ve never been, and I used to be very happy about it, as were my girlfriends. This time I wasn´t as happy. When the 20th stroke striped my ass I was on the verge of hitting the ceiling and had counted on not being noticed, and maybe the cum would disappear into the towel, and maybe pigs can fly as lightly as mosquitos, but the beating stopped there and I had to stop, too. I lay prostrate over his knee, panting and shivering, ass scorched and throbbing, and still I was hornier than ever.

"You still with me, TJ?"

"Yes, sir", I got out in a very strained voice. "Thank you, sir".

"Allright. Get up and go stand in the corner. I´ll tell you when you´re done."

I moved backwards, nearly squatting once I got away from him, trying to hide my condition but I knew I was only prolonging the humiliation. My face was hotter than my ass when I got up on my feet, exposing my gleaming, dripping, treacherous dick, walking stiffly to the corner and feeling relieved to turn my front to the wall. I ached to jack it off. Not being able to was a far worse punishment than the whipping. Behind me, mr Jackson was sighing again, then the chair creaked and I heard him walking across the room, opening and closing the bathroom door.

I immediately started working violently and got off in no time in an intense, golden red, deep wave of primitive force and lust, reinforced by my smarting, tender ass. I nearly fainted from it, riding on the aftermath for ever and ever, having to lean my forehead against the wall not to lose my balance. Cum was running down the wall in the corner of my shame and pleasure. I didn´t care. I´d figure something out later.

"Feeling better, TJ?"

Mr Jackson´s voice startled me. I could have guessed all along, but my brain was only recently reconnected.

"I´m sorry, sir", I said hoarsely. "It just happened."

The towel landed on my shoulder.

"Clean up, for _f_u_c_k_´s sake. And then you´ll remain in the corner for forty minutes from now on, hands on your back."

Once I had my hands on my back pain regained hold of me, and I also felt very ashamed for a while, knowing mr Jackson could watch my striped blazing bottom all the time and think of how I tossed off with him present. I´d seen pictures of small kids standing like this, with their red little asses bare and their hands on their backs, shamefully glancing over their shoulders with tears streaming down their cheeks. I thought of the cruelty of being spanked by the ones who are supposed to care for you and love you, being put over their knees and submitted to pain and disgrace and then having to stand alone in a corner without any comfort, or even worse, to sit on a stool or a potty. I recalled little Chris Simkin, one square parent spanking his tiny butt, the other square putting ointment on it to ease the pain the first one had caused. Both of it had to make him feel lousy. I was better off, then. This was part of mr Jackson´s job and he did it for a living, not putting any personal feelings into it. He made it sound as if now and then but I supposed that was just his way of keeping gloom away. Some _f_u_c_k_ing job. I wondered what he told his wife and kids about it. Please, baby, give me a back rub, I´m aching from whipping asses all day. Maybe he whipped his wife, too. He no doubt did it to his kids. Maybe they had to work the thank-you-sir routine, too.

Eventually my forty minutes were up and I was told to sit down on the bed. I did, keeping my eyes on the carpet. An ugly wall-to-wall, flower patterned in dull colours. Mr Jackson was standing at the foot of the bed.

"What´s the purpose of self discipline?" he asked.

"Following rules, sir", I said without hesitating.

"Right, TJ. Anything else?"

"Getting things done properly, sir."

"Good. Go on."

I pretended I was thinking really hard for a while.

"Controlling your emotions, sir," I finally said, bracing myself for the lecture to come.

"Even better. That´s the most important reason to discipline yourself. Why?"

"Because emotions lead you astray, sir".

"Very poetically expressed, TJ. I´m surprised you know the answer, though. You only seem to control them when you have no other choice. So, TJ, if I tell you to stand in the corner with your hands on your back, and I leave the room, how are you supposed to act?"

"I´m supposed to keep standing in the corner with my hands on my back, sir."

"Because?"

"Because I´m being disciplined for something I´ve done wrong, sir, and it´s all the same if you´re present or not." God, I really hated this.

"So why do you think I told you to go stand in the corner?"

"To think things over, I guess, sir. To feel ashamed. To feel the pain all the way and not be able to distract myself or forget what happened, sir."

"Weren´t you, though? What do you call that masturbation of yours, then?"

"Sir, I´m very sorry. I just...."

"....didn´t care about controlling yourself. You just let go at first impulse. And cut the sorry sir hypocrisy. The only thing you´re sorry about is being caught redhanded. You enjoyed every pull and every second of it, and you´d do it again tomorrow. Small wonder people don´t trust you. You´ve never done anything that´s been imposed on you if you weren´t supervised all the time. And still, at eighteen years of age, you think you can erase everything by saying you´re sorry. This won´t do, TJ."

He went back to the chair and sat down. I stayed where I was, not even turning my head. I was about to get another painful reminder on my poor naked ass in a moment, and tomorrow I had to sit on the bike and people´s furniture for the better part of the day.

"Permission to speak, sir?"

"Just spill it, TJ. There´s nothing you can say that I haven´t heard before. A bunch of _f_u_c_k_ing lying rascals, all of you. You´d make stones cry. So, TJ, tell me why wanking was the only option possible this time. And if you say you´re sorry one more time, I ´ll make sure you have your punishment doubled back home. Probably won´t lead to any improvement, though. Obviously you´re not smart enough to understand what this is all about."

"Sir, I just wanted to say that you´re right about me. I´ve never had to control myself. I just did what I wanted to all the time and let others do the boring stuff. You´re right about the trust thing, too, sir. I just can´t seem to get anything right, sir. I always screw things up in the end. Or the beginning, or the _f_u_c_k_ing middle of it. I´m a _f_u_c_k_ing loser. I know you´ve done a lot to make me understand, sir, but I just don´t get it. In my mind I do, but it comes out all wrong." I could hear my voice getting thicker. Not now. Fight it back. Stupid _f_u_c_k_ing jellyfish.

"Cute, Jennings. For a moment, you nearly had me right up your alley, thinking that maybe you are beginning to get it. And maybe you will, but as long as you keep letting responsibility bounce off your back and onto someone else´s, you´re still a loser. A _f_u_c_k_ing loser, as you pointed out for yourself." Mr Jackson paused, and again I braced myself. "Allright, TJ. It´s half past eleven and we have another busy day tomorrow. Get over here and stand in front of me."

I did.

Rape my mind and destroy my feelings

Don´t tell me what to do

I don´t care now, cause I´m on my side

And I can see through you....

But I couldn´t. I was expecting another thrashing. I didn´t expect him to order me to wank in front of him. It really shocked me. I just stared at him, as if it would make any more sense if he repeated what he just said.

"TJ, I´m tired and my patience is running really, really low. Do as you´re told. If you keep standing there looking like a question mark for one more second, I´ll whip you and then you´ll have to wank anyway. I´m offering you an easy deal."

So I got about it rather awkwardly at first, like I´d never done it before, and I hadn´t, not like this. My _c_o_c_k_ was as cheerful as ever, though, and soon responded to the familiar feel of my hand. After a while I started enjoying it a bit. What the _f_u_c_k_, mr Jackson was just another guy, he´d done this a thousand times, he´d probably seen a lot of guys do it, too. Despite the absurdity of the situation I was approaching the finishing line almost as fast as if he hadn´t been there, watching. I´d been living in celibacy for too long to be particular.

"And stop there!"

I stopped but still held on to my joy stick, and that´s when he ordered me to turn around and place my hands on my back. I most reluctantly did. Then I felt the cold from the cuffs and the annoying click as they clamped shut.

"Turn back and face me."

When I did, he put a thing around the root of my dick and tightened it. I´d seen something like it before in a _s_e_x_ shop, a gadget used by old softies to maintain at least a feeble erection. Maybe mr Jackson wasn´t such a stud after all. Anyway it didn´t take much imagination to understand what he was aiming at. He told me to go lie down on my bed and I did.

"I´m setting the alarm for 2 a. m.", he said, pulling the covers over me. "You have plenty of time to figure out different techniques to put up with a ready-to-burst penis. You´re still able to rub it against the sheets, but I wouldn´t recommend it. If you get off during the night or get out of bed you´ll be punished. And you don´t want to know how. G´night, TJ:"

"Good night, sir", I said, utterly humiliated.

At first, there was just the lovely itch and the longing to ease it, but as time went by the itch was gradually replaced by a dull, throbbing pain. I tried rolling over on my belly but that only made it worse. I glanced at the alarm clock, turned so I could see it. It was 0.49. Mr Jackson was soundly asleep. I didn´t dare to wake him up. I got rid of the covers in hope that the chilly air would relieve some of the ache, but no gain. My dick was like a steel rod. The next hour I spent enduring the growing torment, chewing my pillow, praying to God to let time fly swiftly and please not let me be permanently damaged.

At 2 a. m., the alarm buzzed. Mr Jackson turned the lights on and came over to me. He stood there for a while, silently watching as I tried to let on I mastered the pain. Then he got me out of bed, uncuffed me and pushed me into the bathroom, where he put me in the shower cabin, removed the gadget and ordered me to wank again. I have to tell it was no pleasure whatsoever. He made me go all the way and it was like pulling a tooth without any anaesthetic, only worse. He then gave me a brief cold shower, threw me a towel and said good night all over, going to bed and leaving me there, disgraced and shivering.

I got some rest that night but woke up a couple of times from nightmares, and I had trouble going back to sleep each time. When the alarm went on again at seven, I was as tired as I´d been the night before. Mr Jackson went to get himself some breakfast, chaining me to the plumbing behind the toilet. I had my bread and water in the nude, sitting on my aching bottom on the seat. My dick seemed allright by now but I felt sick thinking of what I´d been put through.


More stories by Paul Frey