Bobby was tied in place and had no where to hide. He just lowered his head in embarrassment. His face was about as red as Steve's.
I felt sorry for the boys. It was my fault for not warning them first. The caretaker didn't seem to mind.
"Mon, I'd seen everytin in tis villa. No prob-lem. Tell you boys to relax. De seem to be hav'n fun."
The man had a smile on his face. That relaxed me, but it didn't do much for the boys. We went through the place checking out things. At one point we had to duck beneath Bobby's arms to go out on the terrace for its inspection. The boy was sweating so much you would have thought he just got out of a shower. He tried to bury his head in his chest without much success. The last thing he wanted to do was make eye contact.
The terrace inspection was completed, and we ducked under Bobby's arms to get back into the living room.
"Dad, you're killing me," he said softly but firmly.
The caretaker gave Bobby what he thought would be a reassuring pat on the back.
"Oh, my God, Dad," he said in a pleading voice.
The poor kid had no way to hide his embarrassment, being naked and tied between two pillars. Steve sat in the chair and bent over with his head in his lap. It took another 10 minutes to complete the inspection. I hoped the boys would remain alive at least that long so I could give them both CPR or TLC (tender loving care).
I said goodby to the caretaker and closed the door.
"It's over with, boys."
"Dad, please untie me, and let's get out of this place. I'm not in the mood any more."
"Me neither, Dave," Steve said almost sobbing.
"I'm very sorry kids. It's my fault for not warning you. I should have told you there would be a final inspection. Now, I deserve a spanking."
"Dad, you deserve it big time. But there's no way I could spank my Dad. It's not right. You can to do it to me, but I can't do it to you. I'm not angry, just embarrassed. Let's go back to the Club and have some fun."
We left the villa and drove back in silence. Once there the boys jumped out of the car and stripped off their bikinis. They ran off to find their two young buddies without anything said to me. I went to Papagayo for some beers: the more, the better.
The next day would be our last for the Club. Our flight to New York City was scheduled for one p. m. That would give us time to have some little fun, say goodbyes, pack up and check out. I should have realized that I would not be having the fun, and there would be no help for me on the packing part. The boys were no longer mad at me, but the packing part for them meant less time for fun and goodbyes.
The day started as usual with Steve and Bobby jogging on the beach and Zach and Ty soon joining in. Bobby had it in his mind to challenge the boys to catch him for one final spanking about his food complaints. Steve knew this was coming and was prepared.
"Bobby, you're not going to complain today about food?" Ty said.
Zach slapped Bobby's ass cheek and laughed. The boys kept jogging.
"Yes I am going to complain. But I'm going to give you guys a lecture on what this high, bad cholesterol food is doing to your arteries. It's not healthy for you. You guys are taking in too much fat, and you're not getting the healthy nutrients you need to start.........."
Zach cut him off.
"You little _s_h_i_t_head, Bobby. We said we'd whip your ass, and we're going to do it. We'll give you a final spanking on our last day as punishment for all the _d_a_m_n_ complaining you've done on this vacation."
"No, you're not." Bobby took off running as fast as he could.
The boys were chasing him, and they were entering the Club's compound at the point where the bungalows begin. Ty, who plays football in junior high, could run faster than Bobby, tackled the kid easily. The boys carried Bobby over to a picnic table and laid him on top. One boy held Bobby's outstretched arms, while the other held his ankles. Each took turns spanking Bobby's ass. This time they came down hard, no mixture of light and heavy. Bobby kept squirming on the table and complaining. Steve thought his buddy might be getting a harder spanking than Bobby wanted. Zach and Ty were getting a little carried away. Steve finally said that's enough.
Bobby got off the table, but this time he didn't climax. The hard spanking took all the enthusiasm out of _s_e_x_, along with knowing this was his last few hours at the Club. In fact, he had some tears in his eyes. He got a lot more than he planned for; it went far beyond the simple play he wanted. The other boy noticed his obvious discomfort, pain, tears and began to fell sorry for him.
"I'm sorry, Bobby, if we went too far this time. We really didn't mean to hurt you," Zach said.
"That's OK guys, I suppose I deserved that." He wiped his eyes of tears. "I probably did make you angry and challenged you too much. Let's go eat."
"Bobby, we're still friends, aren't we?" Ty said.
"Of course you are. I'm going to miss you guys very much. Maybe Dad will let me have another vacation here and invite you guys to come along. I'd really like that."
"We're ready anytime you are, pal. We're going to miss you and Steve," Zach said. He put his hand on Bobby's shoulder.
The boys walked to Papagayo instead of running like they usually do. It would soon be their last few hours together, and they were feeling a little sad.
This time in the restaurant Bobby declined to show his butt to those who saw or heard about his latest spanking. It just wasn't the same as yesterday's. The horrible scene at the villa and today's scene in no way met his expectations. Maybe he plans too much or expects others to follow his thought process. Most of the time, they have no clue what he's thinking.
It was getting near departure time from the Club. It was a struggle, but I got the boys to dress half way decently for the flight to New York. They wanted to go as scruff balls. I kept insisting that while in New York City they would have to dress in a sort of "preppie" look. The Southern California leisure style is out. They would be going places where their usual look would not be accepted.
I had mixed emotions about this trip. I had to go on business and wanted Bobby to see where I grew up. There is a lot about New York City and the state that I hate with a passion. It's not the city or its people. It's what happened there during my childhood. I moved the headquarters of my foundation and investment interests as far away from New York as possible and still be in the continental U. S. But I still maintained an office base there for the obvious reasons of New York's power base.
As painful as this trip would be for me and my memories, I had no idea how painful it would also turn out for Bobby.
We arrived at JFK in New York late in the afternoon from our Caribbean trip at the nudist resort Club Orient on St. Martin's Island. Josh, a member of my staff met us along with a professional bodyguard named Harry. We retrieved our baggage and went outside to our limousine driven by George
The driver and bodyguard sat up front. Josh and I sat on the jump seats going over business agendas. The boys were in the back seat where they could get a better view of the city scape as we drove into Manhattan.
My co-op is at Fifth Avenue and East 85 across from Central Park. A few blocks up fifth is the Guggenheim Museum and a few blocks down is the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Across the street we can jog around the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. I love Central Park. Bobby will love it, too.
We arrived at the co-op and the Doorman, with his bright red uniform, gold epaulets and black dress hat, opened the limousine door while a bell hop gathered our luggage. This was a first for Bobby. The last time I took him to New York we stayed in a hotel while our co-op was being renovated. The small but ornate marble lobby had the usual security guards and a concierge. We took the elevator to the eleventh floor. There's even an elevator man to push the buttons, and the cab is also posh.
"Dad, this place isn't very casual, is it?"
That was an understatement, if I ever heard one.
The elevator stopped at our floor. There's a small lobby, two large doors to the left and two large doors to the right, along with the usual fire escape door. We had 1101; someone else had 1102. They told me an Arab oil kingpin had the co-op next to us. All of the co-ops in the building occupy two floors, so we also had 1201.
Miss Atherton, my housekeeper, was already at the door to great us. Although I use the place infrequently, my east coast staff houses visitors on business with us to stay there.
The front lobby of the co-op is marble with soft yellow walls, paintings and some nineteenth century furnishings and a spiral staircase. I noticed the boys eyeing the staircase.
"Don't even think about it, kids?"
They laughed.
"Ah, Dad, I've got to get into some trouble and have some fun in this funeral home. This place is so unlike you, Dad. What other surprises do you have for me?"
I gave them a tour of the place. It is very formal, except for the family room. That was the room Bobby found most comfortable. I took most of my parent's eighteenth and nineteenth century furniture and put it in the co-op. A few years ago I sold their town home built in 1898 just down the street and moved a lot of stuff here. That old place held too many bad memories for me from my childhood. I was glad to get rid of it.
The boys liked the view of the city, but they didn't like the formal atmosphere of this place. I didn't either. It was though every piece of furniture had a sign that said "Don't touch" and "Don't sit here." Steve is a little more use to formal housing than Bobby. His parents would pee their pants to add this place to their collection of homes.
Each boy could have his own bedroom or two or three. But they chose to share one. Anyone surprised by that? My housekeeper was. I told her they are like brothers but get scared in new surroundings. She seemed to accept that. She'd have to get used to it.
My staff member, Josh, left, but the bodyguard took up residence in his own quarters. The limo driver and bodyguard were on shifts. The boys would have to get used to having a bodyguard and a driver while we are in town. Bobby was the one who objected the most. He said I was sentencing him to a prison detail or some such thing. He wanted to ride the subways to get about town.
"Bobby, I'll take you down the steps to show you what a subway looks like. I'll show you what a cab looks like. But while you are in this town, you'll have a bodyguard and a limo and a driver."
The kid went into a pout that I was taking away his freedom. It did no good for me to explain that they are not New York street wise kids. They have lots of money and are vulnerable in this town. They don't know their way around, and they are terribly naive. This did not help their egos, but it's the truth.
"Dad, is there any chance for us to have fun in this place? I got an idea. You can do your business here. Steve and I will go back to the Club; we're not naive there."
"Son, you'll have lots of fun. It won't be the naked care free fun of Club Orient that you loved so much. But you'll get an education here. Besides, I want to show you the place where I grew up. You might like it. It's a huge 1,300 acre estate in upstate New York on the Hudson. I want to show it to you."
I guess they have experienced too much of a cultural shock from the nudist resort in the Carribean to the hustle, the bustle, sophistication of New York City. There was still time for us to go out for dinner and see some sights. Maybe that will calm them down. I called the driver and bodyguard, and asked them to give us a short tour of town. Take us to some places that teenagers might enjoy. Find us a trendy restaurant that would be fun. These guys know the hot spots and the bad spots. They're hired to know how to please their client's taste, young or old. They're pros.
The boys had fun seeing things that night: a short ride on horse and carriage in Central Park, Times Square and a neat restaurant in Greenwich Village. It is nearing ten p. m. and signs of tiredness were showing on Bobby big time. I had to get him home or he'd not be his usual self tomorrow. He's not a night person.
The boys were up at 6:30. That's a little late for them. I had told the housekeeper to store Bobby's health food and let him prepare his breakfast, if she liked being alive. After enjoying a normal breakfast at Club Orient for two weeks, Steve was not about to give in to Bobby's health food _s_h_i_t_ this time. He asked for a normal meal from the housekeeper. Bobby went into one of his lectures to Steve. But the kid let it slide pass him, which pissed Bobby off.
"May we go to the park for a jog, Dad?"
"Yes you can. I have a young man coming over who is going to be your guide. He'll show you around. He'll be here at eight."
"Dad, I've got a bodyguard, a limo driver and now a personal guide. How many more people are going to smother us in this place? And why aren't you having breakfast with us?"
"There are no more people to smother you. But, maybe, I'll find some if you get lonely. You'll like Jeffrey as your guide. I guarantee it. I have an 8:00 breakfast meeting in town. It's all business."
"Dad, are you sneaking out to a Denny's for a Grand Slam?"
"No, son, this is legit. Besides, I don't know where a Denny's is in this town."
Jeffrey is gay. He's 22-years-old but looks 18. The man is six feet, well built and slender. Jeffrey is on my staff at the foundation part time while attending Columbia University. He's a blond and blue-eyed beauty; plus, he's extremely bright. I hope to have him join me at the west coast headquarters when he finishes school.
The boys took to Jeffrey straight off. He seemed like one of their own. He spoke their language, knew their music and related to them like a big brother. Jeffrey was also taken in by his two young sixteen-year-old charges. He thought this was going to be a fun assignment.
The bodyguard, Jeffrey and the boys put on jogging outfits and headed for Central Park. All four are in great physical shape and had a ball running through the park.
Back home the boys dressed in khaki shorts, a button down short sleeve sport shirt and Nike Air Max Raceway II athletic shoes. They had a certain "preppie" look that was really cute. They had their backpacks. God only knows what these kids carry in backpacks. It seems like they must have one or feel out of the loop of being a teenager. I must remember to ask Bobby what in the hell he puts in that thing when he's not going to school.
Jeffrey had the good sense to make the kids bring along long pants, a sport coat and tie. At that point these Southern California boys thought this guy was an adult conspirator trying to invade teenage territory. Within two seconds they were going to throw this guy out. But Jeffrey carefully explained in their language the need to dress a certain way in certain places in New York City. I would have taken the easy adult way out by threatening Bobby with grounding, a spanking or worse if he didn't do as I ordered.
The extra clothing was placed in the trunk of the limo. Out of sight, out of mind, thought the boys. If they had to suck up to the adult world, they could change in the limo.
The morning was spent touring the Metropolitan Museum of Art (a short visit) the United Nations and the Statue of Liberty. Then it was off to have lunch with me at my offices in the World Trade Center.
The limousine was driven to a special parking area reserved for certain executives who have offices in the huge complex. My foundation and investment interests occupy floors 55 and 56. Jeffrey made the boys change to long pants, a sport coat and tie before entering the building. They carried their backpacks like a businessman would carry a briefcase.
Jeffery and the bodyguard escorted the boys on a non public elevator to my floor. The boys were very impressed with the layout of the place but more so by the fabulous view from so high up.
I was in a meeting that would soon break up. When I arrived at my office, it had been taken over by teenage terrorists. Bobby was sitting in MY CHAIR twirling around like he owned the place. He will someday but not now. Steve was investigating the view with binoculars. Backpacks were laid on my desk and sport coats thrown on chairs near the desk. Jeffery hadn't lost control of the boys. He just didn't know how far he should go in maintaining order. He seemed a little embarrassed, but I reassured him it was OK.
"Hi, Dad, this is an awesome office. This is better than the one at home. You have a fantastic view. I like it. It's cool. What's for lunch? We're hungry."
"Son, every time you visit one of my offices you always take my seat."
"Dad, this is a father-son business. I have to learn how to be you. When you get old and senile in a few years, I need to know where things are. Don't you agree?"
"Jeffery, put Bobby's feet in cement and dump him in the Hudson."
The boys, Jeffery and I went to the Executive Dining Room on floor 45. This is a very elegant and posh restaurant reserved for the most important tenants and their guests and those who belong to the World Trade Center Executive Club.
I reserved a table for four at a corner window for the boy's pleasure. They were the only teenagers in the restaurant. It was Jeffery's first visit. He was impressed, and became more assured of where he wanted his career to go. We passed tables where men shook our hands and made small talk and were introduced to the boys. Among the men stopping us was the CEO of Coca Cola, the CEO of American Airlines, the President of IBM, the Chairman of Exxon and similar Fortune 500 major company executives.
"Dad, how come you're so well known here? You don't come to this city that often."
"Son, I've known these guys for several years. We do business together. I don't always have to see them in person to do business."
The boys and Jeffrey talked about their touring plans for the afternoon. Some of their tours were VIP, and not the normal public tours. They were escorted through the New York Stock Exchange and saw things and operations that are not open to the public. The boys were excited about all the technology. The more gadgets, the better the tour for them. That evening Jeffrey took us to some trendy spots the boys would really enjoy. The kids were warming to the trip, and they loved Jeffrey.
At home that night I asked the boys if they wanted a little spanking/whipping play while in town. Despite their exhausting day, they became very alert and eager to here more. After all, some of their scenes at Club Orient turned out to be a bust. It's been more than two weeks since they got to play out a scene.
I told them there is a private club with a real dungeon that could be all theirs for a few hours of play. I couldn't be there, but they would have trusted people to guide them. And, If they wanted, play with them. They loved that idea.
"Boys, do you want me to tell Jeffrey about your desires. He'll understand, because he also likes that scene. He could play along with you, if you wanted. Or, you guys and the bodyguard will go there alone. By the way, Jeffrey is gay. He gave me permission to tell you that."
"Dad, tell Jeffrey we want him to play. Do you agree, Steve? We really like the guy. This makes him even more like one of us. I'd like having him along."
Steve agreed. I told the boys not to plan too much on their own. They would have some professional people really into this stuff who can give them a real party. Bobby stood up and gave me a big hug.
"Dad, maybe this trip isn't going to be a bust after all."
"Tomorrow, you do your regular exercises in the park. Then you take some tours. I want you to have lunch with me at the Harvard Club in midtown. Then you can go off to play."
"You've got a deal, Dad. You know, you're the best Dad in the whole world. I'm glad I picked you. I love you more than you'll ever know."
I gave Bobby a hug and a pat on his butt. He liked both and asked for more. I sent him off to bed.
The next day followed the same routine of breakfast, exercises and touring. At noon the driver took the gang to the Harvard Club in midtown to meet me for lunch.
My family has been educated at Harvard since the early 1800's. I broke that tradition by going to the University of Southern California for my bachelor's degree. That break caused my father and me not to speak but maybe 50 words a year for four years. I wanted nothing more than to get away from him and his dominance. That 3,000 miles was the best separation I could think of. I also learned to love Southern California and its casual lifestyle compared to the upper crust _s_h_i_t_ I had to endure in New York. Besides, the weather is better in Southern California, and I hate cold snowy winters.
I satisfied the Old Man by going to Harvard for my MBA. He was never the father I wanted him to be. And I was never the son he wanted me to be. We coexisted in a Cold War.
The New York City Harvard Club is obviously for Harvard alumni. The place was founded in 1865 and the building completed in 1894. It was designated a landmark in 1967. I really like the place. It was always a good place to network after I left Harvard.
The boys, Jeffery and I had lunch in the Main Dining Room, an ornate two-story high room very much in the Harvard tradition. Jeffery loved the place. The boys would rather have gone to a fast food place for a hamburger, even health food nut Bobby. I was disappointed that they didn't think the place "awesome," "cool" and "wow, man."
That afternoon, with the help of Jeffery, we arranged for the boys to visit The Dungeon on Lexington Avenue. It's a private club for BDSM activities. I knew the owners. Jeffery was an occasional guest. I rented the place for the boys and asked for special help in assuring their safety and having a good time. The color of money can open most doors and close them behind you to outsiders. Besides Jeffrey, there were two other men to teach and play with the boys in The Dungeon.
When the boys saw the place, their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. They saw various pieces of torture: St. Andrew's Cross, The Wheel, The Horse, A Rack and a dozen other contraptions. They were in a Disneyland BDSM park all to themselves. All of the dozens of whips, paddles and crops amazed them. There were so many restraints they had no idea existed. There was a jail cell with real bars. They had no idea how to begin playing with this stuff. But the erections between their legs said, "Let's go for the gold."
The Headmaster was Don. He was a big guy with a gray beard, tatoos and a look that would scare the _s_h_i_t_ out of anyone. Beneath that exterior was a real pussycat. He set his goal to educate and entertain the boys in this fetish. He had no desire to injure them or psychologically abuse the boys. Normally he would not touch kids this young. A teenager in his club was out of the question. I told Don of the boys experiences and wants. He loved working with novices, but he's not into children. Although he liked the color of money, he was ready to turn them away when he saw them. They looked way younger than sixteen. The boys had to show IDs to convince him. Bobby was nearly in tears thinking that he might be turned away.
Master Don was dressed in a leather outfit with silver chains, a leather vest open to expose his hairy chest. His partners were similarly dressed in the leather outfits of Tops.
"Strip, boys, and do it fast. I want to see what you have to offer me."
His order included Jeffrey, whom Don knew from munchie parties held at the club. All three were naked within seconds, standing side by side as though they were ready for a military style medical exam.
I had told Don that Steve and Bobby like to ware some sort of _s_e_x_y loin cloth during part of a scene. It somehow enhances their fantasy of being slave boys. Don went a step further by ordering them to get dressed again in thong bikinis, some old T-shirts and torn pants.
Steve was tied to a freestanding St. Andrew's Cross. Bobby was hung by his wrists from a steel bar hanging from the ceiling. Jeffrey was similarly hung from another steel bar. Each slave could see the other. Don then went around the room with a single lash whip cracking it on the floor. The sound was so threatening and loud it made Steve and Bobby flinch at each crack.
Don kept up this whip cracking routine while his partners slowly, threateningly but deliberately tears open the backs of their slave's shirts. Bobby's heart was beating faster not knowing if that evil looking whip would soon come crashing down on his back. He knew he was safe. Nevertheless, this Dungeon, its atmosphere, Master Don, that whip and everything else about the place were scary. Master Don designed his scenes to scare the _s_h_i_t_ out of his slave much like a director would do with a movie or a theme park would do with a haunted house. Beads of sweat were appearing on the boys. Master Don knew he had them hooked. The slaves' minds were leaving reality and entering into another realm.
Master Don picked up a lighter whip and lashed Bobby across his back several times.
"You are mine, slave boys. You will do as I tell you."
Bobby had enough sense of adventure and courage to challenge his Master.
"_f_u_c_k_ off, fat guy."
Master Don loved that very much. He knew Bobby was playing the game of being the bucking horse that needed to be broken in. The Master loved a novice willing to go the distance of the hard road to final submission. This kid was going to be a lot of fun to play with.
The Master lashed Bobby harder as punishment for being disrespectful. The boy took the whipping but spit on the floor when the Master was finished. Don was thrilled. This was going to be fun. Lots of fun.
Master Don's partners took their turns with Steve and Jeffrey. These two slaves took Bobby's cue and were equally disrespectful. The Masters stopped the whippings long enough to slowly tear off more clothing. Shirts were in pieces and pants were torn open to expose all their asses. The slaves were all spanked hard enough to get their asses red. But there was no willingness on the bound slaves to submit. None were sorry for being disobedient. They cursed and spat at the Masters.
Being slowly stripped naked was a great erotic thrill for the boys. It gave them a feeling of being victims and of becoming slaves ready to take on hard punishment for some real or imagined crimes.
A few more lashings and spankings and minutes later they were stripped to their thong bikinis. Their erections were aching to come out of their confines.
Master Don put some special ankle restraints on Bobby. The boy was a bit confused about the size and nature of them. He soon found out that these special restraints would support him while he was hung upside down on the steel bar. The boy's arms were left to swing as he saw fit.
The Master whipped Bobby's butt, thighs, back and chest. The boy sometimes raised his arms to rub or protect his ass. He rubbed his chest after receiving some lashes and pinched his own nipples. The Master rubbed the inner part of the boy's thighs near the crotch as he whipped Bobby's butt. This stimulation sent Bobby wild. Each of the other slaves received the same treatment. Steve couldn't take it any longer and creamed his bikini.
Each boy took turns on different torture routines. Bobby was placed on The Wheel. But before they secured his ankles, his thong was taken off. The boy thought he had the largest erection of his young life. The Wheel was turned slowly. As it came closer to the ground, there was a pool of warm water that immersed his head then the rest of his body. As he came out of the pool, he was whipped across the chest, and the process was repeated several times. This ride was better than any ride at Magic Mountain.
Bobby's final restraint was a harness device that left him suspended and a _d_i_l_d_o_ shoved up his butt. His _c_o_c_k_ was dangling freely. The feeling of the _d_i_l_d_o_, the suspension and the whipping was too much. He climaxed with cum sprinkling on the floor.
Their two hours were up. Their backs, chests and butts were as red as sunburns. Their _s_e_x_ual appetites were more than fulfilled. They were exhausted. But they did not give in to submission. Each said that would take a couple, three, four or more sessions. Master Don laughed and hugged each of his young slaves.
The boys left The Dungeon vowing to come back soon, very soon. Bobby complained that there was not enough time to use all the gadgets and other stuff in the place. Master Don would be pleased to have them visit again.