Author's notes: This is a reposting. Bits of the story and the title have been revised.
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PART 1
There were only three reasons I was at the poetry reading: I was a member of the literary club, a non-elite unionized club on campus and a legitimate artsy terrain, I loved the romantic and romantic writers, and most important of all, Cal was there.
But I was concerned that Cal would not remember me. It had been six years since he last saw me. I was then fifteen, back in my motherland, and being punished to take corner time after I had been spanked for refuting the ideology of my tutor, Master Kohnsan, that vile machinery of hate that was daily hammering at my unsuspecting soul to make me resemble him. I was completely naked but nevertheless compelled to meet my father's guest.
Father had turned me around after calling me away from my corner. I shyly placed my fists over my crotch, much to Father's displeasure. Father lightly walloped my wrists for this. I returned my hands to my sides and paid my courtesy to the western guest.
I took an ambiguous liking to him immediately. He was cute, and the tallest occidental I had ever laid my eyes on at 6 feet 3 inches. He was a big man of 160 pounds, with shoulders that were customized for comforting a crying boy. He was sun-kissed bronze from years of traveling around Asia in addendum to his work in this region, had close-cropped blond hair, a bona fide smile I found disarming for its sincerity, and keen but gentle eyes. These could be peridot or cobalt depending on the backdrop, the climate and the beholder's whims. He wore a business suit that was eclectic in style but eclipsed by the parachronistic bow he made to the womenfolk. The bow alluded to his being something of a likable fop. Father said his name was Mr. Cal.
"Hello, Mr. Cal, sir," I greeted him with a punctiliousness that was customary, still bashful about my nudity, for it was the first time I was being punished while guests were visiting. He seemed to be studying my naked form with some interest, probably aesthetic and cultural, rather than _s_e_x_ual. He seemed to approve but of what I was uncertain.
"Hello, Han," he replied, "and you may call me 'Cal'."
I looked to Father for permission and he nodded.
I was sent back to my corner while the men and women, and two of my oldest half brothers, sat about the drawing room to chat. I was eavesdropping on Father's explaining to Cal the reason for my nudity and corner-time. I then overheard Cal tell Father that spanking was usual in his country, America, particularly backwater puritanical America, and young boys like me should be raised with a firm hand on their bottoms, indeed. Now I really liked him all the more. I smiled wickedly to myself, knowing that for an hour at least, this nice man, a foreigner, would be feasting his eyes on my naked spanked bottom. And if I were lucky, after my corner-time, I could get to join in the adults' conversation and sit naked next to the guest, and maybe he would get to feast his big eyes on my genitals too. For I was developing quite nicely and I was proud of my four-inch penis.
Well, I didn't get my devilish wish granted, for I was still only allowed to participate in selected adult affairs. I was erroneously considered immature. Instead I was sent to finish my chores in the backyard. I helped Munshi, our gardener, to clean the pool. Munshi commented that I had a nice, little penis, putting emphasis on little, for it had gone latent again, and thereafter politely ignored my nakedness during the rest of the time I was there to complete my chores. I felt chilled by the drafts that were billowing like phantom sails around my bare bottom and exposed genitals.
When evening drew round, I was compelled to bid my goodbye to Cal and wish him a pleasant trip home. Father and Mishka, the half brother I loved, had successfully convinced Cal to risk staking a share in a government venture that would aid our farmers to increase their crop yield. The venture was conceived to overcome the recent bad harvest caused by the El Nino phenomenon, which had all but devastated the countryside and the farmers' incomes.
I sometimes let myself forget Father's punishment rules. One such was that I was forbidden company during 'probation' time, that is, during the time I must remain naked after a spanking. This evening, I had thrown caution to the wind, and as soon as I saw Mishka, I flew into his arms. Mishka, always supportive of me, also disregarded Father's ordinance and wrapped his arms around my clammy body.
"I'm freezing, Mish," I exaggerated gratefully.
My stepbrother playfully rubbed my skin to warm me. "My poor baby girl with the _c_o_c_k_ and balls," he chided, "if you'd behave yourself, you could avoid getting into such predicaments as this. Are you warm enough?"
I nodded, but not too pleased with the derogatory term he had used to address me. Besides, euphemisms for taboo words, such as in reference to our private parts, were forbidden by our elders, and Mishka was breaking their rule. Nevertheless I so adored this tender bi_s_e_x_ual brother of mine. But that year, Mishka was thirty-one years old and ripe for marriage. Each passing birthday since I was fourteen had fortified my fear that Mishka would soon leave the nest.
But now I heard Father clearing his throat. Mishka released me while Father commanded me to him. Beside him was the elegant and distinguished-looking Mr. Cal.
"Bon voyage, Mr. Cal, sir," I said politely, still unable to bring myself to use his first name only. I was also regretting that our time had been so brief and that my penis had then remained latent.
"Thank you, little one, and I'll see you again someday," Cal said to me hopefully. He was still smiling, radiating a sincerity and trustworthiness that were rarities in these callous times. I smiled back, blushing foolishly and told him I hoped he was right about our crossing paths again.
But that was not to happen, until now, six years later, and in his home country this time. Karma did have a way of fulfilling men's destinies in ways we least thought possible.
As the reading proceeded, I would find my attention riveted on the blond head in front of me. Seated, Cal was still a formidable presence. He stood out head and shoulders above others. I had known he was coming to the reading from the guest list, which I had helped prepare for the club. Cal had been a student at this college here in NYC awhile back and was an alumnus.
But today, Cal was not alone. He was in the company of two young men, one a long-haired, tan-skinned man who looked Native Indian, and the other a black-haired youth who was Asian like me. I thought he must be Siamese of descent or Thai, as it was known now in modern parlance, for I knew from Father that Cal had lately taken residence in that faraway country in South-East Asia. Father had been making regular contact with him through conventional letter writing and their intermediaries as after that first meeting they had become good friends. Father often spoke about him in order to keep the rest of my family updated about his ventures and exploits in those exotic lands whose names I could not pronounce and whose picturesque vistas I could only imagine from Cal's own description. Father had always been grateful for Cal's role in saving the lives of our farmers and preventing a long-term regional famine indefinitely.
It had been said that if you stared hard enough at another behind the ear, the latter would intuit to your interest and turn his attention to you. I must have been staring very hard, for Cal suddenly turned around. I blushed to be caught in the embarrassing act. Cal acknowledged me with a smile. He did remember!
"How are you?" Cal asked me. The reading was over and it was time for light refreshment.
"I'm quite well, sir," I enthused, my heart pounding in excitement against my chest so that I spilled the champagne on my cK shirt. Six years had done nothing to change the way he looked or smiled. I still had a crush for him.
"You look good," Cal said, "slightly older but still the same elfin face."
My chest exploded.
At Cal's invitation, I later followed him back to his town house. He still maintained it despite only re-visiting NYC once a year. I had already made acquaintance with his companions. The Native Indian was called Paolo, and he turned out to be Argentine. Paolo had taken off his shirt and blazer to reveal a chest that was liable to send men and women into therapy. I silently counted out eight pectorals. And he owned a washboard stomach. I drooled.
Cal's other companion was called Niwat. I was right about this one at least. He was Thai. Younger than Paolo and only a year older than I, Niwat was cautious about me. He wore expensive clothes and I found out that his parents were the nouveau riche that had made their fortune on the stock exchange. This was before the currency crisis that now plagued his homeland.
I wasn't honestly happy about their presence. My inclination towards envy and possessiveness was starting to turn me into a monster. I felt all my being aspiring to a Jekyll and Hyde transformation. For now Niwat and Paolo were seated on each of Cal's sides on the settee. I was on the single-seater adjacent to them, feeling suddenly invisible and ignored. Cal said something to the effect that he was sorry that they had been so bored by the recital and was now taking time to compensate them for their patience. At least that was what I had thought, when suddenly, he made them both stand up.
"Okay, boys, take off your clothes, now," he ordered both men. Paolo and Niwat gave Cal the simian stare, but then quickly obeyed.
I watched both men squirm in their leather loafers and then suddenly Niwat protested.
"He's going to watch?" Niwat asked, pointing at me.
Cal got up. I was sure he was going to smack Niwat across his face for the audacious display of disobedience. He didn't. Instead he had raised his hands to hold Niwat tight, whispering something audible only to him, and then to remove all of his clothes himself. Niwat stood silently, now and then looking my way uncomfortably. He was completely naked in no time. I examined his form with some admiration. Though slender, he had the kind of olive-skinned hairless body that I liked in a man. He was also hairless in the crotch. Cal caught me looking at him there.
"Yes, young Han," he explained, "he is to shave regularly there. This boy of mine still has a rebellious streak left in him, and this is my way of teaching him a bit more discipline and submission. He does a fine job now."
Niwat turned beet-red in the face while Cal took his penis in his hand and showed off his shaved crotch to me. There was not a pubic strand that had escaped Niwat's notice left on his crotch. There was not even a stub. He was as smooth as the silk cloth that was indigenous to his people's costumes.
Paolo, on the other hand, seemed settled into a life of arbitrary discipline and Cal's control. I could tell this from his immediately putting Cal's order into action. He was stripping himself. Already half-naked, he didn't take very long to get his linen trousers and shoes off. But he kept his white socks and sport strap on. Cal seemed to be taking the boy through some ritual next, pulling Paolo forward and then yanking the strap down to his ankles and leaving it there. Paolo had a large penis and bushy crotch whose contrast to his entirely smooth and hairless tanned body proved all the more profound. I liked Paolo's attitude for I believed that anarchy was the child of indiscipline, too.
"Now, when I first received the invitation, I had prepared you boys for what the event entailed," Cal began his tirade, "yet you had insisted on coming along. And for the inconvenience of bringing you along, I had expected polite demonstration of civility on both your parts. Instead what did I get? A couple of spoilt brats who thought they were still only four years old and whining to go home before it was time. I didn't appreciate that from either of you. So now get prepared for a spanking. You're first, Niwat. Paolo, go and bring the thermometers to me. And don't forget the KY."
Niwat and Paolo cried out almost in tandem.
"Please, Cal," they sobbed in unison, looking concerned. "Not the thermometers as well. Please. We're sorry, and it won't happen again."
"Of course it won't happen again," Cal said. "But I'll be the one to make sure of that, not you. Go on, Paolo, or you'll get double of what I have in mind to give you tonight. I want the thermometers for both of you. Do it."
Paolo hobbled into the bathroom in short order. He did this with some difficulty for his natural gait and mobility were being severely hampered by his strap around his ankles and he was afraid to take it off without permission. But on his return, he carried in his hands two oblong cases and a jar. Cal told him to take these to the bedroom.
"Okay, boy," Cal ordered Niwat when he felt ready, "over my lap."
Niwat obeyed, draping his firm and naked body over Cal's black pants. Cal took his time to re-arrange Niwat's body so that his bottom was raised and on a clear path for his spanking. Niwat squirmed at Cal's touch. I thought I heard him wince.
"Calm down, my boy," Cal said gently, "I haven't begun yet. Now spread your legs nice and wide for me."
Niwat did as told, and with no more exchanges between the two men, Cal's hand came down hard on his boy's bottom cheeks. A tiny cry emanated from Niwat's throat. Thereafter the spanking proceeded with no more resistance except for the usual pounding of fists, the fierce kicking of legs and the erotic puckering of anus, from the spanked. Niwat had certainly manifested all these traits. Though by nature emotionally undemonstrative, he was now sobbing loudly while he clung onto Cal's ankles to endure the pain.
With immense interest, I watched and counted out Niwat's spanking, which went on for a long time. By the last swat, Niwat was a wretch and wet with tears. I was a wretch and wet with an erection. While the boy sobbed, Cal gathered him into his arms and for an ethereal time, was soothing him gently with his hands kneading his reddened bottom cheeks. As Cal did this, he sometimes pried apart Niwat's crack allowing me glimpses of those deep purple scrotum and anus of Niwat's. Niwat was scarcely aware of being thus exposed to me, or if he was, he could now care less, for he had more important things to focus upon, such as his punishment and his future behavior.
Cal and Niwat had embarked on a personal and deeply anagogic parley that excluded me although I sat just a nail's distance from them, watching them in the same room. The tenderness with which Cal touched his boy and the way the boy responded were not something I had seen before. But I wanted it. Cal's tenderness mollified the two men and when Niwat's sobs started to become intermittent, Cal took him in his arms, leading him to the bedroom and having him wait there.
It was the gorgeous Argentine's turn for his spanking next. I wasn't sure I could take anymore of being merely a spectator of this highly emotion-charged and sensual love story being told right this moment, in this great screen of life, and not be a part of it myself. For this was exactly it, to be spanked was to be loved. I wished that Cal only knew how tormented I was feeling to be wet and left out, and being bothered about the fear of being left out.
I had heard from Father's tales regaled from Cal's own handwritten memoirs that he had been spanking a number of boys in his care for years. I had known that Cal and Father were bonded by their common interest and shared belief in corporal punishment. I had fantasized about being one of Cal's boys someday every time that Father would read out to the family one of Cal's letters in which he recounted a story of spanking his boys. I had thought that my day had come when I saw his name on the guest list. Cal's return to my world had opened up a Pandora's Box of spanking opportunities. I had been restored to my adolescent longing and until last night, even my dreams had been visited by images of wild and wicked spanking moments with Cal.
Paolo was now squirming while Cal had his knees parted and then assessed his boy's response as he touched his anus. Paolo's long hair skimmed the perimeters of his exposed anus and genitals, enticing his observers erotically. My trapped penis enlarged while I imaged Paolo's bottom and mine trading places.
Cal gave Paolo the same spanking as he had given Niwat, on his naked bottom. I could taste the warmth and gravity of Cal's hand as he spanked Paolo.
Just as I had done during Niwat's spanking, I counted the swats administered to Paolo's angelic bottom. Paolo's had to be the most responsive and animated set of bottom cheeks. It was scarce that those tight cheeks were not swaying or bouncing about dramatically as they knuckled under Cal's emotional persuasion. I was diabolical and smiling while I counted out silently. Cal could not be blamed if he found the outward manifestation of my interest unnatural. However, I wished he could see my inward adumbration of pain for my heart was slowly breaking.
At the end, Paolo's bottom was red and the tears he shed on Cal's shoulder evinced the soreness he must feel on his cheeks and inner-layers. Paolo was tearfully and ferociously clinging onto Cal for reassurance. Cal comforted him in his arms for as long as he needed it. As he did, both men continued to exchange endearments, hopes and goals. An irenic moment of reconciliation thus ensued between Paolo and his beloved mentor.
"I had missed you, Cal," Paolo intimated, "that's all. I wanted some time alone with you. I have so much I want to tell you. I felt stifled among those other hundred arty farty types."
Cal took Paolo's face in his palms, pulling him upright so that his spanked bottom was exposed, including what was under his crack. They touched foreheads.
"There's time enough for us," Cal assured Paolo, "I'll make sure of that. You know I'll make time for you. I always have."
Paolo nodded. Afterward, Cal committed a noticeably pacific Paolo to the bedroom. Paolo's scarlet bottom jiggled on his way to join Niwat.
I sheepishly followed Cal to the bedroom as well. I wasn't sure what was to happen next, but the boys knew. They were lain on their stomachs, their anus exposed, though not by choice, and tightly clenched.