INTRODUCTION:
Chad Preston: His name really says it all. He's a yuppie--rich, young, rich, handsome, oh yes, rich. He has the world on a string and enjoys only the finest, including the services of Jimmy and Peter, the best masseurs in the most prestigious health club in town.
Chad is an "arbitrager"--he plays the stock market always on the very edge of success or failure. Occasionally. he even strays over the edge of legality. His personal fortune depends on knowing secrets and keeping anyone else from knowing them. The rumor of a firm merging, a new product, or even a significant personnel change can affect the price of the stock, and can mean millions to Chad.
CHAPTER ONE
Chad entered the health club and walked confidently toward the reception desk. He was conscious of the stares his 30-year old body commanded. He was in great shape, and knew it. His three-timesweekly workouts kept him lean and tight. Today, however, he wasn't going to have his usual workout. In fact, he carried a briefcase, not his gym bag.
He was surprised to see Peter standing behind a reception desk. In his early twenties, a gorgeous looking young man with a hint of Hispanic ancestry, Peter was one of the two masseurs who worked on him regularly. As usual, he was dressed in the club "uniform": short, tight, dark blue shorts and a light blue tee shirt. The emphasis is on "short" and "tight."
"Peter! Good morning," Chad greeted his "boy." "What are you doing at the desk? Where's Mark?"
"Good morning, Mr. Preston. Mark's home sick, sir; I'm filling in for him, but Jimmy and I will give you your rubdown--as always," Peter reassured his client. "We wouldn't allow anyone else to work on that body, sir. Just go into the room and get ready. Jimmy will begin, and I'll be in directly."
"OK. Don't be long, hear?"
"No, sir," Peter said eagerly. "I wouldn't dream of it." Peter continued more softly, just to himself, "What I dream of is his _c_o_c_k_ in my ass. If only he knew."
Chad passed through the member's only door and walked down the long hall past the handball courts and into one of the two massage room. As usual, it was brightly lighted and starkly furnished: a massage table, a dresser containing towels, oils, etc. a clothes rack and a bar stool.
He crossed to the clothed rack, set his briefcase down, sat on the bar stool and removed shoed and socks. He removed and hung up his jacket, tie, and shirt. He dropped his pants slowly, stretching, and hung them up. Standing there in a tee shirt and jockey shorts, he stretched and twisted to "get the kinks out."
Chad crossed to the dresser, picked up a towel and tossed it on the table. He took off his underwear and put it on top of his shoes and socks. He sat down on the table, locked his hands behind his neck, and stretched again. He laid down on the table and arranged the towel, still folded, on his lower back. It was only there for effect, not to cover his ass. He had a right to be proud of his firm ass. He took pains to keep it in shape, and keep it lightly tanned. And he liked nothing more than to see younger men drool over it as they massaged the firm buttock muscles.
Jimmy entered. He was a tall, lanky, young man about Peter's age. Where Peter was somewhat Hispanic, Jimmy was definitely Aryan, maybe even Nordic--Chad hadn't asked but Jimmy could easily have Swedish blood. He was dressed like Peter, in the "uniform" which included white socks and low cut tennis shoed.
Chad greeted Jimmy and ask what kind of a rubdown he wanted. "The usual, as always," Chad told him, somewhat redundantly. To himself, he added, "At least to start with."
Jimmy crossed to the dresser and got a bottle of oil. He went around to the far side of the table and slowly and sensually poured a thin stream down the entire length of Chad's back, massaging the oil into Chad's back. Working quickly, he spread it out all over and then went back to work it in.
"Ummm... that feels good," Chad murmured.
"You seem really tense, Mr. Preston. Are things OK?" Jimmy asked.
Chad said nothing. This is it, he thought to himself. I'll give him enough rope to hand himself. Jimmy worked his hands lower. He picked up the oil and dribbled a thin stream across Chad's buttocks and into the crack. He began to massage and separate them, kneading them with his hands.
"Is it work?" Jimmy asked again.
"Is what work?"
"The tension," Jimmy replied. "Is it from working? How's your job going?"
Chad shifted on the table, but kept his voice carefully neutral as he asked, "Why do you ask about my job? What business is it of yours?"
Jimmy became very nervous and highly defensive: "Uh... Uh, I mean... The tension! You were tense, sir. I wanted to make you feel at ease. That's all, really, sir."
Chad sat up and swung his legs around to face Jimmy. "If 'that's all, sir,' then why are you so nervous about it?" he asked.
Jimmy denied being nervous, but Chad pressed him, "Yeah. Nervous. Like you know you did something wrong and you think I may have found out."
Again, Jimmy denied his nervousness and further denied doing anything wrong at all. Three times Chad asked if he Jimmy had done wrong; three times Jimmy denied it.
Chad swung off the table and planted his face a few inched away from Jimmy's. Jimmy moved back, but Chad followed maintaining the close distance. He put his hand around Jimmy's shoulder and grabbed his neck, holding him in position. "You mean to tell me," Chad began in a low and menacing tone, "that you do not ask your clients about their business so you can sell that inside information to their competitors. Is that what you're trying to make me believe?"
"Yes, sir. I mean no, sir. I mean no, sir," Jimmy stammered. "I don't do that and yes, sir, I want you to believe it."
"Well I don't believe it, boy!" Chad stated flatly. "I know that's what you and Peter--I haven't forgotten him--that's what you two have been doing. And I'm _d_a_m_n_ well going to prove it."
Jimmy was defiant: "No way, sir. You can't prove it."
Chad asked if he couldn't prove it because Jimmy didn't do it or because Jimmy thought he hid the evidence. Jimmy replied that he didn't do it; there was nothing to prove. While he was talking, Peter entered the room, wiping his hands on a towel. He stopped to listen to the two men.
"I know you did it," Peter heard Chad saying. "You two have systematically sold information you got in this very room to your clients' competitors. I'm first going to give the evidence to your boss--you'll lose your jobs. But you won't go hungry. I'll give the evidence to the authorities as well--they feed you regularly in jail! Not well, but regularly."
Peter hurried across to the men and grabbed Chad's arm. "Please, sir, please! Don't do that. We're sorry; it won't happen again." Then Peter got an idea. If he could get Chad on their side, the problem would disappear. "I mean it will but... but... ummm... you will get it... free!"
Chad smiled, "You mean you and Jimmy will continue to get information from your clients while massaging them and, instead of selling it to their competitors, you will give that information to me. Right?"
"Right, sir...," Peter began but stopped with a grunt as Jimmy elbowed him in the ribs.
"asshole!" Jimmy glared at Peter.
"What the hell was that for," Peter snarled.
"Because, _f_u_c_k_head," explained Jimmy, "he was bluffing. He didn't have any evidence."
While the boys were arguing, Chad crossed to the clothed rack. He reached into his pant's pocket, and pulled out a pocket tape recorder. He crossed back to the boys and shook it under their noses.
Chad told them that Jimmy was right; he had no hard evidence. But now, thanks to Peter's cowardly admission and Jimmy chewing Peter out for admitting it, he has their confession on tape. Their jobs are history. "But don't worry," he said with a wicked grin, "you will still eat: not well, but regularly..." he leaned forward and, in a terrible whisper, spoke the last two words: "in jail!"
"There's two of us, sir," Jimmy began with a strange calm in his voice. "We could take that tape."
Chad reached across and grabbed Jimmy by the hair. "Don't _f_u_c_k_ with me, boy! Better people than you have tried it, men! Touch me; I yell; and your boss will hear this tape earlier than either of us planned. Got that?"
"Sir, please. I'm sorry; I didn't think...." Jimmy began.
"_d_a_m_n_ right you didn't," Chad agreed. "But you better get your head out of your ass and start thinking now, boy. You don't get any more warnings. One more mistake--just one--and I flatten you."
The boys pleaded with Chad. They needed their jobs, they said. They promised to do "ANYthing" to keep the tape out of their employer's hands. Chad agreed that "maybe" their boss didn't have to hear the tape. The boys fell all over themselves to thank him.
"Don't thank me yet," Chad warned. "I only said 'maybe.' But you said 'anything.' Did you mean that, did you really mean anything?"
The boys agreed that they meant it. Anything, Absolutely anything, without limits. They didn't know fully what it would entail or they wouldn't have been so quick to agree. They were soon to find out.
"First," Chad began, outlining the conditions, "I don't pay for massages any more. Three a week, for free, from now on. Right?"
The boys were happy to hear so easy a condition. "Yes, sir! No problem at all Mr. Preston," they assured him. After all, it was the health club's money. They would just falsify the records and all they would lose would be Chad's tips. It was an easy price to pay.
"That's only first," Chad warned them. "Second, you're going to quit this _s_h_i_t_, here and now. Not another secret, not another sale."
Peter agreed so quickly that Chad suspected them of lying. "I mean it," Chad said. "I don't want to hear even a rumor of any activity even close to this, understand?"
Jimmy smirked: "We understand. You won't 'hear' anything."
Chad knew full well what Jimmy meant. "That wise-ass remark is going to cost you, boy," he said to himself.
"Now we come to number three," Chad said out loud. "I saved the best for last: You're going to get punished."
Peter was scared before he even found out what the punishment was: "But, sir!" he protested. "We said we're sorry. We will stop. Really. Not matter what Jimmy says, we won't do it. Not again."
"I believe you, boy," Chad told Peter. "You aren't going to get punished for what you won't do in the future. You're going to get punished what you did do in the past."
Peter protested that Chad promised not to tell anyone. Chad agreed: He wasn't going to tell anyone; he was going to take care of the punishment all by himself. Peter was almost in tears when he asked Chad what was going to happen.
"It's easy, boy," Chad replied with a smile and a friendly tone. "I'm going to strip you and Jimmy naked and give you each the worst ass whipping you've ever had in your life. And I'm going to do it right now."
"No _f_u_c_k_ing way!" Jimmy shouted, interrupting. "Nobody spanks me! We're leaving and taking that tape with us and you're getting dressed and getting outta' here--now."
"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy," Chad began, shaking his head in mock sadness. "You poor misguided lad. You aren't going anywhere. You're staying here and getting spanked. On the bare ass. With my hand. And a belt." Suddenly, he raised his voice and almost growled. "And maybe even worse if you give me any more _s_h_i_t_!"
Chad immediately lowered his voice. "And I'll tell you why you're going to take it and thank me for it." He quickly crossed to Jimmy and began rubbing his hands all over Jimmy's face and chest, touching him caressingly.
Jimmy was so surprised he just stood there taking it as Chad continued talking to him. "You see, lad, the only alternative to the spankings is jail. And if they throw this fine, young, manly body into jail, that will be just like throwing fresh meat to a starving wolf. And don't think you can do diddly _s_h_i_t_ about it. You are no match for murders, armed robbers, and career cons. They are going to rape your young, fair body."
Chad roughly spun Jimmy around and shoved the edge of his flat hand up the crack of Jimmy's ass. "And they're gonna' catch you. No matter how careful you are. In the showers, at bedtime, in the corridors, somewhere. They're gonna' strip you and shove their _d_i_c_k_s up that lily white ass of your's. Those unwashed, pox-ridden, 60 year old _d_i_c_k_s, tearing the hell out of your sweet boy asshole."
He spun Jimmy back around and with one hand grabbed his hair, bending his head w-a-a-y back. With the other he grabbed Jimmy's balls and squeezed. "And if you give them the kind of lip you gave me, they will cut your _f_u_c_k_ing balls off, boy and shove then down your wise ass throat!"
He let's go, and Jimmy stumbled back against the table, rubbing his groin and almost crying.
The boys were badly frightened now--just as Chad intended. Somehow, instinctively, they knew Chad was right. Jail was worse than anything Chad could do to them. They would get spanked, raped, and more. And it wouldn't just be once. It would be time and time again.
"Sir,...please," Jimmy began in a very small pleading voice. All the fight was gone. He was ready to do whatever Chad asked. Anything would be better than jail. "The spankings, sir. I won't _f_u_c_k_ up again. Really, I promise, sir. Anything you say and, sir, I mean anything. You can spank me, sir." He begged for the spankings, "please spank my ass, sir!" Peter was crying too much to say anything, but he nodded eagerly.
Peter finally controlled his tears. He watched Chad drag the stool over and sit down on it. "What's going to happen, sir?" he asked as Chad beckoned to him with his finger.
"You know that, boy," Chad replied gently and calmly. "You're going to get your ass spanked. Right here and right now. You see, I frankly don't think my screams could have brought the manager. I think these walls are too thick; the racquetball courts between us and the lobby will absorb all sound." Chad turned to Jimmy: "That door locks, doesn't it?"
Jimmy agreed that it did, indeed lock. On orders from Chad, he walked over and locked it. Peter approached Chad and stood, a frightened boy, in front of him. "Sir, I'm sorry. Really sorry, sir."
"And you're going to be even sorrier when I'm through with you," Chad agreed. "Do you want me to remind you about jail--like I did with Jimmy?"
"No, sir! Really, no," Peter began quickly. He swallowed hard as he asked, "is it... uh..., is it going to hurt?"
Chad threw back his head and laughed. "Of course, Dumb_s_h_i_t_! What good is a spanking that doesn't hurt. Your ass is going to be well and truly bruised and on fire before I'm done with it." Peter buried his face in his arms and sobbed. Chad leaned forward and smacked one hand into the other. Peter cringed at the sound.
"Now, quickly!" Chad ordered both boys, "I want shoes, socks, and shirts off. And I mean now. Strip!"
The boys quickly stripped. Peter was still crying and Jimmy was trembling from fright. They looked around to see what to do with their clothing. Chad told them to just toss them in a corner. They weren't going to be needing them for quite some time, he told the boys.
As ordered, Peter returned to the stool where Chad is sitting. Chad spun Peter around, rubbed his hands over Peter's ass, and spun him back. He stared silently at Peter. Who stared back and, after about 10 seconds, dropped his eyes and spoke: "Oh, please.... Please, sir. Please?" he begged.
Chad knew what he wanted. But the answer was, "No, son. You know you deserve them and you're going to get them. There's no escape. Bend over my lap." He patted his thighs. Peter bit his lower lip, but just stood there. "I said now!" Chad demanded. "If I have to come and get you it's going to be worse--lots worse. Get your ass over my lap."
Peter reluctantly bent part way over. Chad grabbed his neck, forcing him the rest of the way down. Peter struggled with his legs, but Chad pinned them with one of his own. "Last warning, boy! If you fight me, I'll give you twice as much as I had planned. Now, lie still and take it."
Peter settled down. One of Chad's hands held Peter's neck. He ran the other hand over Peter's butt. "Oh, yes," Chad laughed. "This is going to hurt you far more than it does me. For me it's going to be fun!"
Chad paddled Peter's ass with his hand. Occasionally he stopped and rubbed the butt. Peter winced and squirmed, but didn't fight against the spankings. "Ouch... Oh.... Sir, that hurts!" he cried again and again. It made no difference; Chad continued whacking that poor little boy ass.
Peter occasionally tried to put his hand back there to block the blows. Each time, Chad grabbed the hand and held it out of the way, continuing the spankings. "Sir, please," Peter begged through his tears. "That's enough, sir. Really. I've learned my lesson."
Chad pushed Peter off his lap. Peter stumbled against the table, and grabbed his sore butt, rubbing it. "No. That's not enough, not nearly enough," Chad said. "But it's enough wearing my hand out against those shorts. Strip! Both of you. I want to see bare asses, and I want to see them fast.
Slowly and reluctantly, the boys began to strip. Peter was wearing only shorts, not underwear. Chad was wearing white jockey shorts. Chad got impatient with the delay and slapped Jimmy's hands away, then ripped off his briefs--violently, with both hands. "I said 'fast.' Next time, listen, _d_i_c_k_head."
Chad bent the boys over the table, side by side. Peter's ass was bright red contrasted with Jimmy's. "That looks mighty nice," Chad told them. "Two little boy asses. Of course, one's white right now and the other's red. But we'll fix that soon, won't we?" Chad approached Jimmy's butt. With one hand he rubbed the bottom. With the other, he stroked his growing erection. "I said, 'we'll fix that, won't we?'" he asked Jimmy.
"Yes, sir. I guess you will," Jimmy mumbled
"What did you say? Speak up, boy!"
"Sir! I said 'yes, sir,'" Jimmy said in military boot camp tones.
Chad glanced over at Peter. He was still frightened, but he was leaning away from the table. Chad could see Peter, too, had an erection. "So, you enjoy this huh, boy?" he asked.
Peter was scared. Quickly, he denied enjoying the punishment. As far as Peter knew, he was telling the truth. Those spankings hurt; he had no idea why his _d_i_c_k_ was so hard. He was too frightened to even think about it. Chad knew, though. He grabbed Peter's balls and pulled--hard! "Bull_s_h_i_t_! You enjoy it. This tells me so. Well enjoy it for a while while I beat your partner's ass. You won't be enjoying it when I get back to you." Chad released Peter's balls and halfheartedly backhanded the erection. Peter drew back, wincing.
Chad grabs Jimmy and pushed him onto the massage table. He jammed one hand up into the small of Jimmy's back, effectively immobilizing him, and began spanking Jimmy on the bare buttocks. Jimmy flailed his legs.
"You enjoy this so much," Chad told Peter, "you hold his legs." Reluctantly, Peter bend down and grabbed Jimmy's legs, holding them firmly while Chad spanked Jimmy's butt.
"God_d_a_m_n_ you, Peter," Jimmy protested, "I'm going to get you for this. Your ass is mine."
"No, Jimmy," Chad reminded him in calm tones, "Peter's ass is mine-- just like yours is. He'll get his... just as soon as I'm through with you."
"You should be though now, sir," Jimmy protested. "Ouch... this is more than Peter got... Please, sir, and it's on the bare ass!"
Chad gave Jimmy another dozen and then released him. While Jimmy lay against the massage table weeping, Chad walked over to the clothes rack and reached into his briefcase. He brought out a cat and a paddle.
Jimmy protested that those instruments were too much. "I'll take my chance with jail, and I'll have you there on battery charges," he threatened.
Chad backhanded him across the lips and, while he was still staggering from the blow, pushed him roughly to the massage table. He kicked Jimmy's legs out and apart, immobilizing him. He quickly wet the handle of the cat in his mouth and roughly slammed it up and into Jimmy's ass. Jimmy screeched at the top of his lungs.
"You like being raped?" Chad asked. "Do you like something hard and rough violently shoved into your boy pussy?"
"Sir, sir," Jimmy cried and screamed at the same time, "Sir, no, sir!"
"Then shut the _f_u_c_k_ up about jail. This is a small taste of what will happen EVERY night. Now, do we quit and haul that almost-cherry ass off to prison, or do you take the rest of your spankings?"
"Spankings, oh please sir," wailed Jimmy. Chad pulled the cat out of Jimmy's ass and showed him the blood on the end. Jimmy was very frightened. Chad told him it wasn't serious--yet--but it would be if he got any more _s_h_i_t_ from Jimmy. He made Jimmy lie face down on the massage table, and securely tied both hands and legs. Jimmy was totally captive!
"You can't do that!" Peter protested.
"Boy," snarled Chad, "I can do any _d_a_m_n_ thing I feel like doing." He proceeded to lash Jimmy's ass with the cat. The 24" throngs cut into Jimmy's boyass and left long red wheals. Jimmy gasped each time the cruel lash landed, but didn't cry. Surprisingly, the cat itself made very little noise: a slight whoosh as it swung through the air and a gentle splat as it landed.
"Stop, oh stop," Peter cried out in pain for his friend.
"OK," replied Chad. "One spanking session isn't enough anyway. You each need at least three more sessions this week, and I can't be there to give them to you. You will have to spank each other; that means I have to teach you how to do it."
Chad handed the whip to Peter and demanded he practice on Jimmy. Peter didn't want to, but Chad promised for every halfhearted or too soft blow Peter gave, Chad would give each boy two hard ones. "Now, I want you to lash Jimmy's ass--right on the hole--25 times as hard as you can." Chad moved to the head of the table, bent over and spread Jimmy's ass with his hands, exposing the hole. "And God help you if you hit my hands," he warned.
Both boys were crying. Peter could hardly see Jimmy's butthole for the tears. But he was mindful of the warnings and the consequences. He aimed truly and hit hard, sobbing all the while. "God_d_a_m_n_ you, Peter, I'm going to get you for this," Jimmy promised, even though he knew Peter had no choice.
"Indeed you are going to get him," Chad said as the last blow landed. Jimmy's hole was bleeding but not severely. "It's your turn to practice on Peter."
Chad untied Jimmy, bent Peter over the table, and spread his feet. "I don't think we need to tie you down," he said. " These are just to keep your hands out of the way." So saying, he handcuffed Peter's hands behind his back.
He handed Jimmy the belt. "I want 50, good, hard, and strong. Any mistakes or any mercy and you will pay."
"Don't worry, that ass is going to get what he gave me and more," Jimmy promised. Sure enough, he swung the belt through the air and landed it with a splat right against Peter's upturned buttocks. Peter cried out with the pain but that didn't stop Jimmy. Again and again he swung that belt, slashing his pain and anger out against his friend's bottom.
It was strange, Peter was crying with the anguish, but about blow 28 or so, it became obvious that they both liked what was happening: Peter was very happy to take whippings from Jimmy, and Jimmy discovered that he liked to give them. Both boys had raging hardons, and Peter's cries began to change to, "Yes, Sir. Please spank this boy's ass, Master!"
Chad observed, but said nothing. Jimmy didn't like the spankings and he was the ringleader. He would be punished and, if the boys liked what was happening to Peter, that was OK. So long as Jimmy didn't enjoy getting them, they would learn their lesson.
Eventually, the spankings were over. Chad reminded them that EACH boy had to get spanked, at least 50 times, and with a belt, and the next two days in a row. "I'm going to inspect both asses in three days. I expect to see bruises and I can tell if they're 1, 2, or 3 days old," he warned.
All three men were covered with a fine sheen of sweat. The boys promised to carry out the punishment. They began to get dressed.
"I've been thinking," Chad began. Both boys groaned. Not more spankings; that would be too much. "I've decided you can continue your little money making operation. You may continue to sell secrets. In fact, I insist on it."
The boys were amazed. Why had Chad changed his mind? Was the spanking sufficient punishment? Was he looking for an excuse to punish them again? Chad explained: "You may continue to sell the information with one slight difference: Before you sell it to anyone else, I get it--FREE--for 24 hours."
The boys agreed. They knew Chad would make money, but so would they. They didn't care what Chad did with the information. This would allow them to continue making big bucks. And, besides, they kinda liked Chad for introducing them to a neat new hobby: Jimmy beating Peter's butt! They walked out of the room together, all three smiling, but two of them walking sort of funny-like, from the pain in the ass.
As Chad walked down the outer hall, a gentleman came up to him and asked for a moment of his time. Chad reluctantly agreed, and the gentleman introduced himself as Inspector North, of the FBI. He explained that the FBI was in charge of an investigation into stock market irregularities and insider information.
It turned out that Chad was not the only person to suspect the boys. Nor was he the only person to have "bugged" the massage room. The Inspector did as well, and he knows everything.
"As long as you punished the boys and they were going to stop," the Inspector told Chad, "I was willing to drop the matter. The free massages were nothing. What's a little petty-ass blackmail. Hell, I couldn't be bothered even prosecuting a case like that."
Chad smiled as he thought of the Inspector listening in as he worked over the boy's asses. And the boys weren't going to charge him with battery, so the Inspector couldn't do anything. Suddenly, Chad lost his smile. If the Inspector knew about the whippings, he also knew about the arrangement at the end.
The Inspector was watching, waiting for Chad to realize his mistake. "That's right, Smartass," the Inspector said. "Now, the information leak isn't going to stop. Now the boys will continue. Now I have to do something about it."
The Inspector laughed: "My first duty is to punish the newest accessory after the fact--one Chad Preston. What you gave so quickly, you're about to get--from ME!"
Chad began to protest. The Inspector said nothing but began manipulating something in his inside coat pocket. Chad's protests died away to nothing as the Inspector played back Chad's description of the horrors of prison life. "It's all you said it was, boy, and even more," the Inspector told him with glee.
Chad knew when to cut his losses. He really had no choice and he knew it. "Yes, sir, I understand, sir," he told the Inspector in a small voice. He was amazed to find how dry his throat was.
The Inspector laughed again. "What goes around, comes around," the Inspector said. "Chad Preston, your yuppie ass is mine, boy!" And he lead him back into the massage room. ---- This story was uploaded from the now defunct Foxxnet BBS in the mid 90s. I didn't write this story and I don't know if the author is still around.