Until I was eighteen, I had defined my life in terms of those that moved and shook my world, shaping my attitude towards that world. They were my father, my tutor, Ky, and my oldest stepbrother, Mishka. They were so paramount to my personal world-view that I could not ignore the potential for change becoming extant in that very influential circle. And change it did, very quickly, but I was scarce prepared to cope.
It was the eve of Ky's departure for America. Ky was the Euro-Asian savant who tutored me in Math and life, and my sometimes boyfriend. Now he was about to leave me for good.
Just as I had promised him, I took the first available bus to his on-campus fraternity house in the city. I was eager to see him for a very good reason.
"Hey, sweetie," Ky greeted me. His greeting was as ancillary as the short hug he gave me, and this put a damper on my enthusiasm.
His portmanteaux, now numbering three, laid open as always. He had been packing for his stay in America for almost a month now. He was still packing, while I was reeling off querulously, arranging and re-arranging the contents but nothing he did seemed to satisfy him.
"So then," I asked, "I can visit you in the summer?" I had reminded him that in less than a year, I would be in America too, but we would be in two opposite poles. "I can take a plane to New York. Is that okay?" I continued.
But Ky was too absorbed in re-writing his invisible tome to hear or care about me. His callousness left a hollow in my spleen.
So I walked curmudgeonly to his bed and picked up his portmanteau. I lifted it up and vengefully let it slip from my hands. It crashed onto the floor.
"Little bastard," Ky yelled. "Where did you get off thinking you're so important?"
"I don't think I'm important, sir," I responded fearfully to his genuinely-felt truisms. Ky could always make me feel like a little boy. "You're leaving tomorrow. I just wanted some equal time."
"Well, I just don't have the time right now," he exclaimed, "as you can see."
I started sheepishly for his portmanteau to pick it up. It was my way of apologizing. I certainly wasn't proud of what I did and must now try to eliminate the risk of his resurrecting me in his nostalgic future with a bad taste in his mouth.
But Ky would not take a jocular view of my craven tactic at bullying him into channeling some of his attention to me. He warned me not to touch his things again and that included the offended portmanteau.
Dejectedly, I crawled to a corner of his room and sat with legs folded under me. I watched him resume his packing. Once again, I felt like a child who knew he had transgressed and was too guilt-ridden to leave the scene of his transgression until he had been punished.
Suddenly, Ky seemed to be entertaining a change of heart for he had stopped fussing over his things to look at me tenderly. He approached me and picked me up, his hand gripping my armpit.
"You're distracting me with your surliness," he said, standing me front of him. He had seated himself down on his bed and wound his arms around my hips.
I marinated in my hormonal juices while Ky took his time to negotiate his emotional minefield. Finally, deciding it was safe, he put his hand against my crotch. Clad in thin cotton pants and a tie-dye caftan that was de rigueur in our village, I felt my penis harden and become erect under his precise manipulation. My crotch tented up noticeably.
"Take off your shirt and sandals," he ordered me. I did without a moment's hesitation.
"You sure are eager," he said in a tone of thinly veiled sarcasm.
He was also keeping a close watch on the digital alarm clock on his nightstand. The numbers 9:34 were registered in iridescent LED.
"Now take off your pants," he continued after he appeared to have made some calculation.
I had stripped down to my white brief when there was a knock on his door.
"There," Ky smiled, "right on time."
Ky left me to answer the door. It was someone from the frat house, another bespectacled savant and we were not acquainted.
"Nouri," Ky said, "this is Han. You've come just in time to watch me spank my pupil."
"What?" I exclaimed. "Ky, I mean, sir, please, please don't!"
Nouri was now analyzing my almost nude body for _s_e_x_ual and maybe sociological content while I blushed deeply. I sucked in my stomach and straightened my back to improve my posture and marketability. Nouri was, after all, an attractive male. But he and Ky were now exchanging looks so covert I could not be wrong to suspect that I was in some danger.
"I want you to help, in fact," Ky said to Nouri, completely ignoring my rights. He took hold of my brief and pulled it down to my ankles without an afterthought, as if it was the convention to strip another person naked and then to expose him au naturel to the public. Emphasizing that I ought to be most humiliated by now, he shot a cursory glance at his colleague and then seamlessly shifted the glance to me. It was undoubted that the leit motiv of his calculated moves was to embarrass me, but embarrassment could be erotic when it accompanied punishment.
Grasping my penis in what was clearly another move at humiliating me, he towed me forward and hauled me over his knees. He separated one of the openings of my brief from one of my ankles and left my underwear to swing about freely around my other ankle. He kneaded and patted my bouncy bottom cheeks and spread open my crack, pausing so that his guest had a good look at what was no longer hidden there.
"Nouri," I heard Ky say, "come round to his feet. Good. Now hold his ankles; keep them apart. Very good."
I felt my face flush more deeply now than before. I felt Nouri's alien hands gripping my ankles and prying my thighs open. I felt completely humiliated at the premise that nothing was going to be hidden from Nouri for at least half an hour - not my penis and scrotum, certainly not my virgin anus.
"What's he being spanked for," Nouri asked, "not bringing his homework?"
"No," Ky answered, "for being a brat and acting _c_o_c_k_y."
The men cackled. At least Nouri did; Ky was snickering.
Ky swatted my bottom as soon as they had ceased their unsavory laughter at my expense.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! I howled and kicked simultaneously and tried to free myself, but both men were even more relentless at their effort than I was at mine, one at keeping me still a boy, the other simply still.
At the end of the one hundred swats, Ky lifted me from his knees.
"Lay on your back," he told me. "Throw up your legs."
Now Ky directed Nouri to kneel behind me on the bed and hold apart my ankles once more.
My tutor crawled under his bed and after rummaging blindly there for a while, he drew out my cane. A priceless commodity and worthy investment, the cane and Ky had had a long courtship before it became a love affair.
"Close your eyes, baby," he told me, "you're getting a good beating. You know you want it."
Ky was right actually, but of course, I did not say that. For one thing, when I was being spanked, I was not permitted to back talk or negotiate my fate on my terms. For another, Ky did not need any encouragement from me. He was already the best spanking tutor on the circuit.
My raised bottom and anus were now being licked continually by the cane. However, my penis remained painfully erect the whole time, even when I was bellyaching and tearing at the bed sheets.
"Uhh! Aahhh!" I started to scream between howling from the cane's onslaught. I was close and Ky knew it.
"Grab his penis, Nouri," he said quickly, "and milk him fast."
Nouri gripped my erection and pumped away vigorously. In a shrill cry, I ejaculated, shooting my semen into Nouri's face and all over my stomach. Ky and Nouri lapped up my slime and then spat it all back down my throat. I swallowed my peppery juices mingled with their peppermint saliva.
It was corner time next. Having been in this gloriously humiliating position before, I headed for my usual corner, loving the idea of exhibiting my red bottom to two appreciative men. But Ky stopped me before I could reach my destination. He had turned from his bureau and was bending me from my waist. I felt his fingers inside my crack. He was thrusting what felt like a wooden dowel into my anus. Then he straightened me up and fitted a metal ring through my penis. All this handling aroused my manhood once more. A pair of diving goggles over my eyes and a baby pacifier in my mouth later, I was ready to be displayed.
"Now," he smirked, "you may go to your corner - over on the balcony."
I gasped. The balcony faced a busy part of the campus where, at anytime, there were people traversing the thoroughfare that forked out into a number of lanes which branched into all the faculties. It didn't matter either that today was a Saturday. Ky had to be joking!
But it quickly dawned on my senses, still in shock, that he could not be more serious. Ky stood me on the balcony, close to the palisade, my two plump and red orbs illegally juxtaposed against the skyline. He also forced me to put my hands on my head, whispering: "Don't worry, sweetie - you're well disguised; and this is a radical community. People will just think we're hazing the junior boys again." And so, for the next hour, Nouri and Ky shared a tuna croissant breakfast together while they admired the vista.
When the hour was over, Ky returned to re-claim me from the wolf whistles beneath me.
But Nouri was leaving. Before he did, he planted a warm kiss on my cheek and thanked me for the sporting appetizer to his day.
"It was my pleasure, sir," I said coyly.
Alone at last with my oft-times sultry bedfellow, I was led to the bed, and then he cuddled me for a long time. Later we masturbated each other.
I took over packing the bags for Ky the rest of the afternoon, and he was actually pleased with the results. Finally evening rolled around, and he offered to drive me home in his Fiat.
We were in view of the terra cotta turrets of my father's house when he turned towards me. "Of course you may visit me in New York," he said, with a twinge of sorrow in his voice. " I want you to. I was peeved you felt you had to ask back there."
Well, I was surprised he had even heard my asking back there!
There was bad news awaiting me, this time on the domestic front. I was told that my favorite oldest stepbrother was leaving the next day to set up a branch office for his firm in another province. He would also be overseeing its operations as Interim Executive Director.
"Tomorrow?" I said unhappily. "Why weren't we told earlier?"
Tears had already welled up in my eyes.
"It isn't like I make these decisions, Han," my stepbrother replied, chewing on his deviled chicken. "I'm sorry but that's business."
"How long will you be gone?" I asked First Brother.
"At least two years till they find their permanent top man," he answered.
"Two years!" I wailed. "But I'll be leaving for America end of this school year. I want you here, Mishka. Don't go, please. I had no idea you liked the nomadic life."
Of course, everyone in the family started to dismiss my outburst as unacceptably childish. I could understand that they would do that but I had expected First Brother to be more sensitive. He had to know how important he was to me.
When the rest started to laugh at me, I got up from my chair and about turned to my chamber. I was not able to handle yet another loss.
"Stay where you are!" I heard a command lambaste my ears. I turned back to face the author of the command.
"Who said you may leave the dinner table as and when you please?" Father asked.
"Nobody, Papa," I cried.
"Go to my Study right this instant," he ordered me, "and wait there for me."
As I had expected, Father spanked me when he finally turned up after taking his time to finish supper. Supper it seemed had been a sending-off party for First Brother. It was inconsiderate of me to have made the hybrid event a sad one for everybody.
After apprising me of this so that I felt guilty in addition to depressed, Father handed me the all-important lecture and admonition that were any good parent's noblesse oblige while I stood before him with my knickers bunched up around my knees.
"Let me remind you of the hierarchy exercised in this family," he said. "You are outranked by your parents firstly, and then your elders. This is followed by each of your nine older brothers and sisters. You sit only after they have sat, you eat after everyone had been served and tasted the food, and you leave after they have left. Always you let them pass through the door before you do, and on the streets you walk behind them except when I deem it necessary that you walk ahead for your safety and protection.
"You would no doubt believe Papa's custom to be antediluvian. It's the price I pay for sending you to a private school with all your white schoolmasters' bourgeois ideas of democracy. But to get back to the issue: if I cannot convince you of the worth of Papa's customs on the grounds of their filial merit, then I'll argue on utilitarian grounds. These customs put you young ones in a privileged position of safety. Think about it: if there's something wrong with the food, you would be spared many unpleasant trips to the water closet. Should you walk through the door or into the streets behind your elders, and Papa's enemies lay waiting in ambush, you should be spared an early exit from this life. I can keep on going, but not tonight. I must next minister to Mishka's needs. But are you clearer on these things?"
"Yes, Papa," I answered and apologized for my lapse in observing the rites.
Father then made me recite his antediluvian custom a few times after him before finally turning me over his knees.
"Why is your bottom red and welted? Who beat you?" Father asked demanding to know. I fidgeted fearfully on his laps.
"It was Master Kyyern, Papa," I mumbled nervously. "He spanked me this morning."
So there it was - our great secret - disclosed to Father because I could never lie to him. Ky had been spanking me in play and as punishment for the past two and a half years but that had been our private little tryst. Now Father knew part of the truth. However, I also realized that the disclosure was no longer a threat. Ky was leaving. He was going to be safe.
"This is most irregular," Father opined. "But it's not unusual for a teacher to spank his pupil. What did my son do this time?"
"Same thing I did to First Brother," I replied, "I didn't want Master Kyyern to leave. I annoyed him, he said."
Father's chest heaved. "You must stop being an annoyance to your elders," he said. "You're not small anymore. You must learn to be independent."
I told Father that I should try, but after his loving spanking, I wasn't very confident anymore that the fifty hand swats delivered to my naked rear were able to teach me independence, not if I liked being a boy and spanked as one.
Later in the night, I groped my way through the labyrinthian corridor and found First Brother's chamber. I entered it.
First Brother was at his lectern. He was meditating.
I went and stood beside him. I was stark naked as a consequence of Father's discipline ritual, but even without that, I would still have stripped naked for my seduction. First Brother noticed my erection from the corners of his eyes.
"Make love to me, Mishka," I pleaded.
I forget how many times now I had made this request. For a long time, in fact, for all my growing up years, I had loved my oldest stepbrother. But he had always rejected me, that was, except for that time when I caught him in an indiscretion with his college lab partner, and to shut me up, they both involved me in an abridged version of an orgy. Now believing that he would turn me away once more, I sank to my knees before him.
"Make love to me, please, Mishka. You can cane me afterwards," I pleaded again, weeping; and then I remembered: the cane - if it could be a metaphor, then it was still the one that stood for consistency and dependability. If nothing else, at least that would never change.
Crying now, I pressed my face against First Brother's crotch. I soaked his crotch with my saliva and tears. First Brother surprisingly did not make any attempt to suspend my unsophisticated seduction, so feeling safe and encouraged, I reached for his pajama pants and pulled them down his hips. I clamped my mouth on his exposed penis and sucked him. But then I heard him grimacing, and I pulled back, feeling utterly embarrassed.
First Brother pulled me up and gently led us to the bed. He clamped his mouth on my erection now and taught me how to give a blow job
"Don't use your teeth," he whispered, choosing his words carefully to avoid damaging my frail esteem, "only your lips, your tongue, your throat."
First Brother labored to make me come. His labor resulted in productivity for shortly after, I shot my semen down his throat. He swallowed every drop and even licked the remains on my penis.
I turned on my stomach next and assumed the position for anal penetration. I wanted to please my stepbrother, to reward him, to make him my master.
"Come into me, Mishka," I said.
But instead of fulfilling my longing, First Brother was stroking my bottom and spine very gently.
"No, milksop," he said. "Come lie with me. I want to talk to you."
He lay my head on his chest and wound his arms around me.
"You're very sad, Han, aren't you?" he asked me. "And making love to you will not alleviate your sadness."
That was enough to decimate my pretense to lasciviousness. I buried my face in my stepbrother's armpit and burst into tears. "It's all gone, Mishka," I blurted.
"What's all gone, baby?" he asked.
"Everything," I replied, "you, Papa, me. Everyone's going his own way." I had made the deliberate decision to omit Ky, but he was very much a key player in all this confusion I was feeling about the sudden turn of events in my life.
"But that's life, my tragic little boy," my stepbrother said. "We all grow up and we move on. But if you're worried that moving on means we stop loving you, well, rest assured that that's never going to happen. Relocating should not divest a friendship, loyalty or love unless you will it to."
Now that First Brother's succinctly wise words had brought out my natural confidence, I asked him why he would not have intercourse with me.
"You're my brother, milksop," he replied.
"Please stop calling me that," I cried, "and I've said before, I'm only your half brother. But one day, Mishka, I'll make you fall in love with me so deeply that you won't be able to resist me."
First Brother laughed hurtfully. "You can try," he said, "you can only try."
After that he started to tell me hilarious office anecdotes that had me laughing so hard that I thought that I would have inflammation of my adenoids. My sides were splitting too. It was past the midnight hour when he finally lulled me to sleep with my favorite boyhood tune.
In the morning I found myself alone.
THE END