John and I had been living together for more than a year. I adored himand did whatever he wanted me to do so as not to lose his friendship.When he told me to clean the apartment, make the beds, and do thelaundry, I did so without any argument. Occasionally he had todiscipline me by taking me over his knee and spanking me, but I didn'tmind since I was sure I deserved this punishment.
I never knew, however, that he owned a summer cottage by a lake in thenorth country until he told me one day that we would be spending theweekend there. I was, of course, delighted. We hadn't ever beforevacationed together. It would be an exciting experience. I packed onebig bag for the two of us, including our bathing suits and changes ofclothing, and we headed north in his new car.
When we arrived at the cottage, I found that it was in a quite isolatedlocation. The lake was rather small but adequate for swimming if not forboating, and we would not be bothered by nosey neighbors since thereweren't any other cottages nearby.
The first thing John decided that we should do was to go swimming. Weboth removed our clothes and John put on his trunks, but he told me Iwouldn't need to wear mine since no one was around to see us. I didn'tquestion why he had decided to wear his, but followed him in the nudedown to the edge of the lake.
After an hour or so of swimming and sunning ourselves, we returned tothe cottage where John put his clothes back on. I started to dolikewise, but John stopped me. "This weekend you are not to wearanything," he said. With that he put the bag with my clothing and unusedbathing suit into a closet and carefully locked its door.
I didn't exactly know how to respond and decided not to antagonize him.After all, it would be just the two of us living in the cottage by thisdeserted lake. For the rest of the day and evening we played cards, ateour meals, and generally loafed around. I made up the beds, did thedishes, and dusted away the cobwebs that had accumulated since John waslast there. All of this, of course, I did in the nude. It was as if Iwas living in a nudist colony but for the fact that John continued toremain fully clothed.
After breakfast the next morning, John announced that five of hisfriends were coming up that evening to play poker, and that he needed meto prepare snacks and drinks for all of them. I asked him who would becoming, but he told me I didn't know any of them so it didn't matter.Actually it mattered a great deal to me, particularly if I was notallowed to wear any clothing for the occasion. After all, John had bothmale and female friends and I particularly didn't want any of thefemales to see me in this condition. But I held my tongue in control. IfJohn didn't want to tell me something, there was no way I could get himto do so. Much of that day I spent nervously twisting the thought aroundin my head that the other poker players might be married couples, notused to having a strange naked man in their presence.
After I cleared away the supper dishes, John told me to set up the tablewith six chairs. It didn't take much math for me to realize that withsix chairs there would be no place for me in the game. Well, I decided,John was assigning me to the task of keeping the refreshments flowing.It was a good thing, too, since my mastery of poker is nothing to bragabout.
When I heard the first car drive up the path to the cottage, I brokeinto a mild sweat. John had told me to answer the door and so I did thiswith trepidation. The man standing there I later learned went by thename of Carl. He didn't seem to take any notice of my unclad conditionbut went straight over to the couch where John was sitting to engage himin conversation.
Another car arrived shortly thereafter and two more men, Greg and Jim,came through the door, ignoring my presence once I had opened it forthem. Then a third car arrived and, much to my relief, the couple Iopened the door to were both men, Luke and Eric. At least, if my bodywas to be on view all evening, it would not be seen by any women.
I served everyone beer and some _c_o_c_k_tail nuts as they sat down at thetable to play cards. John told me that I could watch the game if I wouldstand about five feet away from the table, place my hands on top of myhead, and keep my mouth shut. I did as he bid.
The players divided their chips evenly (apparently they were not playingfor money) and John began to shuffle the cards. "Whoever has all thechips at the end of the game will get the award," he said.
They played several hands and then, suddenly, Carl directed theirattention to me by saying, "He's kind of skinny, isn't he?" Carl himselfwas a mass of muscles that he must have acquired from body-buildingequipment. He was slightly bald and had a tatoo of a coiled snake on hisleft bicep.
"Skinny and kind of little," replied Eric, pointing at the exposedmember between my legs. "His hair hides almost all his manhood."
Although I didn't dare look down to see what they were commenting on, Irealized that my penis must have been quite shrivelled at that moment.
"You ought to shave him and see what he really looks like," Luke said,turning to John. Luke was a short, rather quiet man with glasses. If Ihad passed him on the street, I might have mistaken him for a librarianor some kind of laboratory technician.
"Skinny, no muscles to speak of, and a retreating organ," chimed in Jim."Where did you find this guy?" Besides John, Jim seemed the mostpleasant one at the table. He was quite tall, had sandy hair that hecombed straight back, and spoke with what seemed a gentle voice.
"He's been with me for about a year," said John. "We get along o, k."
Their interest turned back to the cards, and I was left with the feelingthat I was not of much more interest to them than the furniture in theroom.
After a few more hands, Greg, a man of stocky build and a protrudinglower jaw, asked John in a kind of slurping sound, "Do you ever punishhim?"
"Of course," John replied, "every time he does something wrong." ThenJohn instructed me to go to the kitchen to get another round of beer forthe guests. I was glad for this opportunity to drop my hands down to mysides and head out to the kitchen. My arms and legs were getting quitetired standing there and the conversation was getting too personal formy comfort. But when everyone was served, I knew that I had to return tomy hands-on-head stance to wait for the game to be completed.
John at this point began to relate to the others how he took care of mydiscipline. "I usually pull him over my knee and give him a few whackswith the palm of my hand on top of his underwear. Then I pull hisunderwear down to his ankles and really go at his butt cheeks until theyturn all red and he is sobbing for mercy. After a spanking like that henever makes the same mistake again."
Apparently my face was turning somewhat red at this graphic descriptionof how John usually punished me, because Greg immediately drew theothers' attention to that fact, and they all laughed. Greg alwaysslurped when he said anything, probably because of the strangedeformation of his lower jaw, and I was not really sure of whether theywere laughing at me or the way he talked, although I suspected that Iwas the object of their amusement.
Carl told the group that he also spanked naughty boys over his knee, butthat he made them take down their underpants themselves as preparationfor the punishment. He said he begins with gentle slaps to each buttockand then increases the power of his strokes until the victim pleadsagain and again for mercy. If the object of his punishment tries toswing his legs or butt out of the way, Carl said that he clamps the legsin place by holding them between his own. He further said that he likesto use his hand instead of a tool such as a paddle or switch because helikes to feel the naked flesh giving away under his thrust, and he alsolikes to see the imprint of his hand on the pink thighs whenever hestrikes hard enough.
Jim at this point interrupted to say that he never put the victim overhis knees, since he found that you cannot develop enough power behindyour strokes this way. He said he prefers to have the person bend over achair or bench. He said he never uses his hand since that may begin tohurt after awhile. He prefers to use a paddle with holes drilled in itto cut down the air resistance. The comment surprised me since this wassaid by the person with the gentle voice, the one who I had decided Iliked best next to John. Clearly I would have to revise my opinion.
Suddenly Greg drew their attention to the fact that my organ had becomeenlarged in the past few minutes. "Look," he said, "I think he'sbecoming excited by our conversation."
"He may be a man, after all," said Eric. My face must have turnedseveral shades of red as I tried as hard as possible to get my penis toreturn to its normal shape. But that was impossible. Only later, when Iwas sent to the kitchen again for more beer, did it retreat inflabbiness.
Eric now took up the thread of the conversation. "A paddle is o. k.," hesaid, but a cane is much more effective since it concentrates the blowinto one thin line rather than spreading the pain over a wider area. Thevictim will usually howl more with a cane than with a paddle, and a canecan be used to make fence lines all over the person's rear end.Sometimes these even last for as long as a week before they disappear.
Luke, the one I thought looked like a librarian, then pointed out thatthey really know how to use a cane in Singapore. There a martial art_s_e_x_pert wields the object and his skill concentrates his total bodyenergy into the blow. When prisoners are sentenced to three, six, ortwelve strokes of his cane, they will bear the scars on their backsidesfor the rest of their lives.
"Well, you folks do it whatever way you like," chimed in Greg, stillslurping as he talked. "But I prefer to start with my palm, then go to apaddle, and finally end up by using a cane. Each one of these causes adifferent kind of pain and results in a different response from thevictim.
They returned to the game and pretty soon Greg had lost all his chipsand had to drop out. He, however, sat there and watched the others play.
Carl, who was now shuffling the cards for another round, suddenly lookedat John. "Have you told your friend about the award yet?" he asked.
"Not really," John replied, and then turning to me he said, "The winnerof this game is given the right to give you a spanking."
My face must have shown my shock at this announcement because everyonelaughed at my expression. I said nothing, however, because John had madeit so clear that I should keep my mouth shut.
Now as they played, I began to take a serious interest in who the winnermight be. I had experienced John's spankings before and so I prayed thathe would be the successful one. Carl, with his coiled-snake tatoo andmuscle-bound arms, was bound to cause more pain with his palm than mostof the others might. Luke, although he looked innocent enough, was theone who knew the most about Singapore caning and might want to duplicatethat experience here in this cabin. Eric had such a glint in his eyeevery time he looked at me that I realized he was just waiting to makeme scream. And Jim, though the most pleasant among the guests, was theone who liked to use a paddle with holes in it so that wind resistancewouldn't lessen the power of each swat.
I was beginning to sweat in anticipation of the game's finish. I offeredup several prayers on behalf of John, but then he lost all his chips anddropped out. I decided then to put my hopes on Jim as the least of fourextremely dangerous possibilities. The evening was wearing on. My armswere very tired and my excitement was gone. I stood there waiting in asweat, and praying that all might be over soon.
After another twenty minutes of play, only Carl and Jim were left in thegame. Would I be over Carl's knee soon or would I be over the edge ofthe table experiencing Jim's hole-drilled paddle? I prayed for Jim.
And he did indeed win.
"O. K., it's your turn," he said as he rose from the table and came overto me. My pathetic glance at John brought no response, as Jim pulled mytwo hands down from my head and began to drag me over to the card table.
"No, please!" I cried out, but to no avail.
"Over you go," he said, as he not too gently pushed my head and torsodown onto the table. "I'm going to make this an experience you'll neverforget."
Then he looked at the others. "Someone hold his two hands so that newon't try to protect himself."
Muscle-bound Carl obliged, pulling my two hands toward the other side ofthe table and clamping them there like they were held by steel bands.
"His legs are too close together. I want his butt crack wide open," Jimtold them, and then someone came forward and kicked my feet apart. Thenthe hands of two different card players grabbed my ankles to hold themin place.
"We have discussed various methods of hand, paddle, and cane punishmentthis evening," Jim said. "But we've said almost nothing about the belt.Fortunately I brought one with me that usually proves to be an excellenttool. I'll bet you'll hear a yelp out of him after the first blow."
John leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Don't worry, it will soon beover." He was wrong. Jim intended for this to be as memorable an eveningfor himself as it would be for me.
With that Jim took off gis belt. It was about an ince and a half wideand quite flexible. He folded over the belt by swinging the end of itback over onto the part he held in his hand and caught it with the samehand. The sound of the leather smacking leather made my whole body tensetrying to hide inside itself. I started trembling. I couldn't stop. Ifelt cold. My legs felt weak. My breathing turned into panting. I heardthe first lash before I felt it -- the sound of dead tanned fleshsmacking live flesh. The sound of it echoed ecvhoed throughout the room.The pain caught up to both the sound and the echo as a numbing sensationat the bottom of my buttocks was replaced by a warmness building to aburn. I screamed, both in pain and absolute terror. The totalhelplessness of the situation overcame me and I started crying.
Jim waited for the effect to fully register itself before he swungagain. The second lash was just as horrendous as the first and again Iscreamed. I involuntarily wanted to raise my legs behind me as mybuttocks tightened from the force of the blow, but I couldn't move thembecause they were bieng held in place by the two assistants. The thirdlash came before I even had time to tense for it and seemed to hit inprecisely the same place as the first blow. There was no numbnessbuilding to warmth. It was immediate fire. And again I screamed. Afterthat the blows came methodically, a few seconds in between each, and allequally as painful as the first except when he aimed directly for mybutt crack. Then the intensity of the pain doubled.
I yelled, I sobbed, I pleaded for mercy, I offered to do anything forJim if he would just stop. But it was like talking to a deaf man. Thosearound him took no mercy on me either. They, in fact, were enjoying thewhole process, commenting from time to time on the skill of his aim.Although I of course couldn't see it, I was sure that my rear end wasnow a mass of ugly red stripes and perhaps even bleeding.
Then Jim stopped. I was crying too hard to hear him say that he expectedmy thanks, and he had to wait for a few minutes while I calmed downbefore he repeated himself.
He told me that he expected me to get down on my knees before him, kissboth the belt and his hands, and thank him for giving me such aninteresting new experience.
I realized that if I didn't do that immediately he might decide to givemy bottom more of his treatment, and so I climbed off the table and gotto my knees.
I took the belt in my hands and kissed it as passionately as I was ableto under the circumstances of my painful posterior. Then I kissed eachof his hands and said, "Thank you, kind sir, for giving me the lesson Ideserved."
He seemed satisfied and the guests left soon after. John, however,insisted that I clean up the living room and do the dishes before Icould retire. I slept on my stomach every night for at least a weekafter we returned to the city.