It had been a super louse day at work. Absolutely nothing had gone right. The report that I had prepared the day before was sent back to be re-calculated because new data had come in on sales and costs, and so the projections I had spent three weeks on were deemed "antique speculations." The new calculations would take less than 10 minutes, but representing the report with all new graphs and the enlargements, displays, overheads, and adjusted CD would take 5, and then perhaps be superseded by yet newer calculations . It was always a race, and this time I had lost.
Then Marks called to tell me that he would not be able to host for the weekend. We had planned a long weekend at Marks' time share in Myrtle Beach. It was to be five days of sand, sun, hot tub and hot nights, all nearly free, since the time was not booked by anyone else and therefore open to the "owners." But at the last minute, the rental agent had booked clients, and unless we wanted to pay the market price less Marks' owner's discount, we were bumped. Bumped we were. _d_a_m_n_!
Then, as I slid my chair under the desk, I caught my pants on a part of the drawer and tore a triangular hole, 3" on a side, in my new suit. Wonderful! And it was not yet 10 AM. And the rest of the day went no better.
At 6:30 I dropped the re-writes and annotations into the basket for tomorrow's staff to work on and headed out of the building. As I took out my wallet to get the electronic key that would allow me to exit after hours without a security guard present, I dropped Thompson's card. I had met Thompson a few weeks before at a D&D party on 8th street. Dominance and Discipline, not Dungeons and Dragons. He was submissive, completely obedient (or so he said) and willing to take punishment without end and without reason.
Some men work off their frustrations on the racquetball court. Some job. I like to whip ass. There is nothing so purgative for me and to use a strap on a man's upturned backside, long, hard, severe, and without concern for his yelps or screams. And this is what I needed this evening.
"I'm calling for Thompson?"
"Yes, Thompson speaking."
"Thompson, this is Albert Boyle. We met a few weeks back at the party in the Village. Do you remember?"
"Two weeks, sir. On the 11th. You wore a white leather vest and carried a raw leather spanker. I gave you my card. Yes, sir, I remember. May I be of service?"
"Well, you do remember. Very impressive. Yes, you may be of service. I want you in my apartment, ready, in an hour. Can you make it?"
"Yes, sir. I will be there. Please instruct the doorman to let me in. I will have proper ID with me."
"Yes, I will." and I gave him the address. "Be ready for the strap."
"I will be ready, sir."
And that was all there was to it. I called the doorman and told him to let Thompson in, but to demand two forms if ID, both with photographs. I did not want to make it easy for him, and if he was waiting for me in the lobby, I could have all the more reason to be severe. Then I decided on a luxury: a limousine home. I was not in the mood for the subway. I dialed the company number and had a small limousine meet me in front of the building.
Apparently "ASAP" means different things to different people. To me it meant "now." To the limo driver it must have meant "some time this week." I was pissed after 10 minutes. When it go to be 25, I was beyond words. All I could see was Thompson's ass and my strap. His ass was high, round and absolutely white. The palest ass I had ever seen. My strap is about 9" long, 4" wide and a quarter inch thick. It has a rose-wood handle, cut and polished to fit my grip exactly. The leather is hardened, polished on one side and raw and "fussy" on the other. It makes a sound like a pistol shot when it connects squarely with flesh.
I got out of the limo in front of my building and strode in long paces to the door, not even thanking the driver or the door man.
"Mr. Knight is waiting for you in your apartment, Mr. Boyle."
"He had better be" was all I said as I used my key to activate the elevator to my floor. When I got out of the elevator, I could see that someone had arrived: an unknown overcoat hung on the coat rack. I opened the door and saw Thompson.
He was 5' 10", 165 pounds and fair skinned. His longish dark hair fell forward on his face, and he smiled a he used the back of his right hand to push it out of his eyes.
I shoved his right shoulder hard with my left palm, nearly setting him off his balance. He staggered a step backwards, and looked at me quizzically.
"You don't need to smile. You need to get my strap from the wall in my room and get back out here." I took off my jacket and turned back to see him just turning to go to the bedroom. I used my foot to push him in the ass towards the door. "Move it! Now!"
He returned a minute later with the strap. I was standing spraddled legged with my arms crossed across my chest. When he held out the strap, I took it in my right hand, grabbed his left wrist with my left hand, and pulled him forward and onto the table there in the center of the foyer. I held him with my left hand and swung the strap, as hard as I possible could, and snapped it against his ass.
"Get those pants down, Thompson, now!"
He yelped at the force of the blow, said "yessir" all as one word, and started to fumble with his belt and zipper on his white jeans
A second* , a third* , and a forth* blow, all as hard as the first, and delivered as quickly as I could, followed the first. Thompson yelled out at each, and kept fumbling with his pants. I had delivered six before I saw his briefs.
"Underpants too, you pissant." I continued the barrage on his backside.
"Yes, sir, (yelp!) please sir, (yelp!) let me get ready (yelp!) sir (yelp!)"
"I told you to be ready. I assume you are, now shut up and take what I can dish out."
I beat him savagely. I kept up the swats,* as hard* as I could* , fast* and furious* on his ass* . Most hit* on target* . One did hit the small* of his back* because I saw a red* mark* there. Several* hit the tops* of his thighs* , but more because he was kicking* his legs* and trying to wiggle* away from it, not able* to stand still* on his toes* , the blows* were so* painful.*
Finally, he gave up and abandoned himself to the pain and sobbed loudly with each blow, yelling, "No!" or "Oh Sir!" or "No more, no more, please!"
I kept up the rhythm until my arm began to cramp, so I switched to the left hand. I am not as accurate with my left, and not as strong, but his ass was already showing signs of bruising, and I enjoyed his yelps and his pain. Every twitch, every pull away, every yell seemed to drain the anger and frustration and annoyance from me, like poling holes in an over-filled water bottle.
Finally, I was tired. I was sweaty and breathing heavily. Thompson was a mess. His jeans had come off one of his legs with the kicking, but were caught around his ankle on the other foot. He had pissed all over the floor. His face was red, swollen with crying, and contorted. His ass was red with deeper red marks that traced the outline of the leather strap. There was a bruise coming on the left cheek.
"Ah! Thank you, Thompson. Stay there. I am going to take a shower, but I will be back. Stay there. Be ready."
"Yes sir," he gasped, and abandoned himself again to sobs.
The shower was wonderful. I adjusted the spray to needle sharp and as hot as I could stand it, then just a little hotter. I left the door to the bathroom open and the door to the foyer from the bedroom as well. I used half a bottle of body wash and created more suds than I thought possible. I washed my hair three times, each time using the shampoo to lather my underarms and pubic hair as well. I rinsed off, and then threw the knob to full cold and screamed when the icy water hit by heated and reddened skin. When the soap was completely off my body and down the drain, I stepped out and toweled off with a dry rough towel.
Back in the foyer, Thompson was just calming down from his beating. He still gasped and sobbed at intervals, as a baby who was fallen asleep crying with sob by fits and turns in his sleep. His ass was past red. It was vermilion to violet. The strap lay on the table next to him. His arms were stretched out across the table above his head and grasped the other edge of the glass table top. I put my hand on his neck.
"Get into the bed room and lay over the bottom corner of the bed, one leg on each side, spread wide and wait for me."
"Yes sir," he whispered, and hurried to comply.
I picked up his pants and underpants and tossed them into the bedroom after him. As an afterthought, I picked up the underpants again, and slipped his belt from his white jeans. He was laying on the bed as directed. I doubled the belt and began slowly to even up the color on his ass.
Unlike before, this beating was slow and methodical. Each strike was placed carefully to assault a spot not savaged by the strap. Each blow did it work. In about 40 swats, his ass was evenly red and swollen. It would be three, perhaps four days before he moved with any fluency or lack of pain.
"I'm going out now, Thompson. You may shower or whatever. But be gone in two hours. May I call you again?"
Without moving at all (I hadn't told him he could) he said "Yes, sir, please sir. any time you need me."
I walked over to my desk and opened the top drawer and took out a tube of KY jelly. I spread a generous glob on my middle finger and shove it slowly and sensuously up his ass. Then I took a $100 bill from my wallet on the bed and rolled it into a tight roll and pushed that up his ass as well.
"For you. A gift." I wiped my finger on his ass.
"That's not necessary, sir. I don't need to be paid."
"That's not pay, Thompson. It's a gift." I picked up his belt and lay one across his ass with as much force as I could muster. He screamed, not expecting it. "Do we understand each other, or do we need to discuss it?"
"No sir, yes sir, I mean, I understand sir. We need only discuss it if you think we need to."
"To Thompson, I haven't time. Be gone when I get back."
I dressed in an outfit hanging all together in my closet. It did not include socks or underwear. Thompson did not move while I was in the bedroom. As I closed the door from the foyer to the hall, I saw him lift his head and massage his ass with his right hand. I closed the door and took the elevator to the street.