Those who have been reading MMSA Stories for a few years might find this follow up to "Italy [part II] – The Waiter, Antonio" of interest. Many wrote about Antonio before, thus I'll post it. Believe it or not. It happened. Cal
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It is not very usual to have house guest here, but given this is a "prime vacation destination for holiday travelers" I suppose I should not have been too surprised when I had an aereogram from Antonio a couple of months ago indicating he and Ana, the especially elegant restaurant owner in Florence, wanted to know if they could stay a bit with us and do day trips as part of their vacation? Antonio's letter was normal with dates and things. He closed with "hope can talk some too for me" and signed his name with a flourish and a smiling face. The dates were convenient, I would be here, and Alejandro also sent a e-mail that arrived a few days after indicating he would consider it a "personal favor" if they could stay here.
Still it was slightly unexpected when they really came! Chris met them at the Airport and brought them (with tons of luggage) here. For sure, Ana is as elegant as ever and clearly likes to travel with a flair, but Antonio still looked the same. Levi 501's with a heavy crease in them, cuffed, plus a white T-shirt under an Elvis style overhanging solid color shirt, thin black fine leather belt and, you guessed it if you read the earlier posting of them, he still wore black penny loafers, highly polished with copper pennies in them! Still the 50th guy and looking different from the rest of us, but viva la differencia! As before, his Levi's fit him nicely but not too suggestively and as he came in here, it was obvious that he still had a youthful flair that more than attracted attention, especially as those Levi's did fit him in a way that indicated a more than adequate basket and a pair of tight athletic buns! He looked as good as before and seemed to be genuinely happy to be here. The guest room somehow accommodated all the luggage (Antonio joked almost all of it was hers) and finally we shared drinks out by the pool and renewed a nice friendship.
Antonio seemed to have mellowed some. At least he didn't seem to arrogantly macho, especially around her anymore, but he was also more quiet than I remembered him being. Never mind. Chris and Mei assisted with tours and things seemed to go off like clockwork during the first two days. They were like any other tourists studying colorful maps and planing each evening.
The third evening when they all traipsed back from a hot and very humid River cruise, one of those super but longer tiring days that always left you exhausted no matter how nice it was. The humidity that day, however, was especially high. Then looked weary when they walked in and headed for the pool. We ordered in that night as no one was up for cooking. Just too hot outside! After dinner we were all sitting around, though I had stepped outside on porch to see if those plants had been watered, when Antonio apparently said something and sparks flared up and flew between them in rapid Italian. Whatever it was, she flew into a voice loud enough to be heard back in Italy and it was clear from her tone she was not happy. They were both obviously using words in anger and ignoring the rest of us who could not understand anyway.
A few minutes more into their conversation and Antonio turned scarlet red and his face flushed seriously. By this time I was inside, half in shock. Regardless, they just continued talking until then she suddenly just grabbed him by the left arm and pulled him off red-faced back to toward the guest room. Actually Antonio looked scared, sorry to say, as she moved him that way, a look I had never seen on him before. She paused at the door just long enough to ask me in heavily accented English if she could borrow a paddle? His face simply got redder when it became so crystal clear to all of us there what was about to happen. Antonio was going to get paddled!
There already is one small paddle in there in the dresser drawer as I sometimes paddle a boy in there myself. That room is a side guest room, no neighbors or walls to worry about. A young man can feel free to cry and let it all out in there once the door is shut even though his paddling can be heard by anyone in the living room. My boys call it "the Paddling room" and none of them like to be ushered in there. Still, at times, even they must be. They are of that age after all.
What could I say? I simply told her she was welcome to it though Antonio's nervousness increased even more in front of all of us as she held him by that door and I said that. After all, nothing much wrong with correcting a boy, and by now it was clear, Antonio was going to receive a correction that night. Something needed adjusted.
They both disappeared in there and shortly after that door slammed shut behind them, the paddle she had clearly found and borrowed from me could clearly be heard rapidly cracking against Antonio's obviously bare bottom from inside that closed bedroom until he was more than just was crying a little! He was begging and pleading and crying loudly. Whatever he had said must have been fairly major as that paddle could be heard cracking and landing hard as she whipped him hard. She took her time in doing it too! From his cries, I would have said Antonio was getting a major attitude adjustment then, probably over the knees or across the bed!
When they did re-appear, she was pulling him out by his arm. His face was solidly red and very tear streaked. Although he had been fully dress in his Levi's when she dragged him in there to paddle him, when she dragged him back out in front of all of us he was only wearing a white T-shirt, white briefs, and white cotton socks. He seemed more than simply embarrassed in those briefs when she pointed him to a chair and told him to sit there, even though he said absolutely nothing at all. It was real quiet in the room for awhile after she sat him there as the rest of us just sat there not quite sure what to say?
But Antonio seemed to be still crying a bit so I tossed him a large handkerchief. Though the sounds of a boy being spanked or paddled are not completely unusual in this house, the whipping she had just given him was extremely unusual here. She continued to talk sharply to him, though more quietly now. Some anger remained in her voice, but the only word the boy quietly mentioned was the equivalent of "sorry." For sure he was not happy when he re-emerged with her and saw all of us still sitting there looking. Remember, he had just recently met Bruce and Chris, both of whom were slightly ashen.
That night and from then on Antonio actually was real, real quiet and he kept much to himself too. He seemed so embarrassed all the others where there when she paddled him and heard him getting it. Antonio always did have a macho streak, but this seemed more that just that somehow.
Chris' reaction was to comment later to me privately that he hoped I kept her away from him! I smiled and hugged him.
Paolo asked me if women always paddled a guy that hard? He looked a bit pale, but Paolo is easy to reassure.
None of us had any idea why she tore into his bottom that way? Any semblance of social conversation was impossible that night. Most of us turned in real early and simply tried to ignore it.
This Italian woman, Ana, a Florence restaurant owner, is one of those jovial yet elegant characters (modern almost feminist, beautiful) that really makes a restaurant special (hers sure is!). She operates a super place! Antonio, her boy toy (or certainly was when I was there), not only works there as a waiter ordering others about, but is her lover. How and why he became her lover given his age, I have never heard but she loves young male buns and _c_o_c_k_ (not unusual for older Italian women) and knows a younger male performs even better when his are warmed up for him. I assume you have read that earlier part on MMSA Stories I wrote about them? Basically she is just delightfully Italian and all feminine and he is proudly macho and goes out of his way to maintain that illusion around that place. When the guests leave, things change. That is just the way it is (or was when I was there before).
The next morning, life went on as we all had different things to do. Mine seems to always be constantly working! They went back to seeing the sights, though Paolo had to fill in as the "tour guide" as both Chris and Bruce no longer wanted to! Both suddenly developed urgent things they had to handle that day. Yes, I smiled. Such is life!
A few days later, Saturday night we were all out in different groups, but Paolo and I happened to have already returned home when the two of them came in about 22:30. They had been to one of the gourmet restaurants she was looking at in terms of cuisine and scouting a few things.
Anyway, both wandered in from dinner. Antonio appeared to have been drinking a bit too much. Alcohol is often a boy's worst friend. For too many boys it can get his tongue wagging, a careless word can slip out without thinking, and any young man who's still subject to it can quickly end up paying for his carelessness with an application of a paddle, applied suddenly and directly across his bare bottom, even here!
But they had both just walked in and were talking in rapid Italian which always sounds a bit loud, at least to my ear. It almost appeared they were just discussing something of no consequence as Antonio stood there talking with his hands going, discussing something. "Of no consequence," that is, until she, without a break in the conversation, began to undo his belt, pulled it out of the loops and soon held it doubled up in her hands while she helped herself to undress him and he found his slacks down around his ankles where she had pulled them and preferred them!
Still, Antonio seemed to have no concern at all that she had taken down his pants and had offered no resistance, as if he really did not care what she was doing but anyway that was her right. After all, it was Saturday night and he had long ago no doubt accepted that who was in charge.
They just continued talking. But she did not stop with just his slacks. She unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt all the way down and pulled it apart, half off his shoulders, exposing he still had that washboard stomach and still favored rather skimpy white briefs showing how clearly well endowed the lad was. Moments later, that simply assumption was proved, when she also almost tenderly and lovingly, slowly helped that fine cotton brief he had on all the way down his legs to join the clump at his ankles.
Antonio just stood there like that, still talking with her. Regardless now, he seemed to have no concern at all that his bare body he was so proud of including his _c_o_c_k_ and bare ass were fully exposed naked in front of Paolo and I as he stood there in the middle of the living area with his clothes down around his feet. They just kept talking about something but about what I had no idea. And a bit later while they both continued talking, her hand was on his bare bottom and they were hugging, it appeared tenderly.
With his slacks and briefs binding at his ankles, she pulled his shirt up completely around his shoulders, leaving him even more exposed; and then she stepped back a bit and all of a sudden lashed his own belt against his bare bottom four or five times causing him to yell, dance and really jiggle his tight buns. She seemed to take no notice of his reaction (or of any of us sitting there either!). She did not care. Instead she kept talking to him quietly while she strapped his bare buns several more times.
Antonio was for all practical purposes, a tall good looking stud, naked as he stood there in the living room in front of us while she lashed his bare bottom with his own belt. Marks appearing showed she was lashing him very effectively but limiting his whipping to his bare bottom. But he stood more still than most boy his age would be while getting strapped sharply. No question the boy was feeling it too. His _c_o_c_k_ was straight up in the air when she had stripped him naked, but by now it was completely flaccid and he looked about to start crying. His face was tightly constricted as he tried to resist that from happening.
Regardless, Antonio stood straight, proud, and tall. His body was ridged, his bare buns now marked and red. His eyes were tightly shut though some water was beginning to show on his cheeks. Still he stood submissively and accepted it, as only a boy being disciplined can be trained to do. For Antonio, nothing else mattered, and nothing else was on his mind except that the person he was with had chosen to discipline him. He knew he had to stand still like most boys in such relationships must, he knew he wanted to, and he knew he would not matter who else was there to watch him get punished. Whatever he might have said or done, his emotions and focus were only on his master.
Antonio stood there rigidly and silently as if he expected more. But instead then she took him by the upper arm rather gently. She pointed him toward the guest bedroom and marched his bare ass in there without bothering to close the door which happened to be wide open to the room we were left in.
Ignoring everything else, though still talking to him, she pulled out the hard wooden backed chair that I often sit on to spank a boy in there, and sat down on it easing his naked body over unceremoniously with his ass pointing to the door. His shirt was pulled up over his head and shoulders and his feet bound by his slacks and briefs, somewhat immobilizing him. And she took that same paddle and promptly paddled him to the point where any alcohol was forgotten and he sobbed violently.
Watching a boy get his whipping over the knees of another is often both intriguing and fascinating. Paolo was fixated, but a good tight pair of buns on a boy his age and as nice as he was and as tight as he was, caught my attention too.
Obviously Antonio was well trained and had been in this position many times before. He had bent over her knees easily and had immediately spread his legs and thighs to provide the most access possible to his bare bottom as he got his spanking. It was as if he was expecting it, possibly even was craving it, secretly knowing he needed it and deserved it too. His _c_o_c_k_ and balls hung low outside her knees. Balancing his almost completely bare body over those knees with his hands in front of himself on the floor and his face completely down, he offered his bare bottom openly and freely for any and all the attention being given to him. Without being told, Antonio had lifted his bare bottom up for the pleasure he knew was coming. Actually he raised it up quite high. But after the first crack of the paddle, the boy fell forward and simply hung there submissively. Still Antonio did not clench his buns once no matter how hard that paddle landed on him. A well trained boy, indeed, he was obviously used to being paddled and resigned to the fate he knew was due him. Whatever he had said, whether the alcohol caused something to just slip out unintentionally or not, Antonio had long ago accepted her right to discipline him as she wished. He hung there, finally quietly crying, and took his spanking as she turned his buns white then red, then bruised them and painted them thoroughly for him with my paddle.
Finally though, as I said, Antonio did break down and cried, sobbed quietly, but he never once screamed and he never resisted at all.
When she finally put down the paddle, this naked Italian young man simply hung there fraught with emotions, even shaking some. Her fingers played with and enjoyed his very red and obviously hot bare buns, but she also fingered and seemed to be "inspecting" his young balls and _c_o_c_k_ as well. As her middle finger entered his cherry and he was taken that way, he tensed momentarily, then his young _c_o_c_k_ began to rise in response as she held him over her lap tightly there. By this time he was responding as all young men do in the hands of a person who has just spanked them when held there after a good, long spanking.
I have no idea if she had chosen to leave that door open on purpose or if she had simply forgotten, but finally as his muscularly defined naked body raised itself up from over those knees, he looked out momentarily, even somewhat fleetingly, toward Paolo and me and turned even more scarlet as the door was now closing behind them. In his prime, Antonio's nakedness reflected his naked athletic beauty. He faced toward the bed while the door closed firmly behind him.
But while a little booze will always cause the tongue to waggle and the poor thing should know that by now, the sense I got was that something else was up with him? While apparently he had clearly said something she labeled as "disrespectful," maybe even as "defying" her, until after his spanking was over he seemed nervous or even a bit scared but still fine. After as he had stood up in all his masculine beauty, he just seems too nervous, too solicitous, and maybe even too afraid this time. But his natural confidence was back quickly though and even in evidence as that door had closed behind him.
Check that chapter from two or so years ago. Antonio was always macho back in Florence then and he did not used to be like this. Possibly he had developed a certain affinity for being over her knees? Many young men do.
Beyond a doubt, though, she certainly knows how to use that paddle.
The others wandered in around here much later. Neither Paolo nor I spoke a word about it to any of them.
The next morning Antonio still seemed quiet, but conversation was more normal and nothing seemed out of the ordinary between the two of them.
They continued sightseeing. I continued working. Bruce and Chris continued their corporate internships while the others were working on other stuff or doing their thing as their tour guides.
Three days later, Bruce, Chris and I were planning on going up the river by boat and into a jungle area by foot. Antonio came along. She however went restaurant exploring with some of her own colleagues. The physical activity of the trek plus the beauty and quiet of the river and utter greenness was something we all really liked, especially as parts of the trekking were strenuous. Away from the crowded and polluted city, we were simply one man plus three older guys and an extremely extraverted and friendly guide who was just plain funny! At night, completely away from any of the sounds of civilizations we relaxed, talked forever, and always hit the sack early. Nobody misbehaved or anything like that. We ate, drank a bit, laughed a lot (!) and just enjoyed each other's company.
The final night before we were to return to the city, the bomb dropped! Antonio had reminded me that in his letter he said he wanted to talk about something privately? Yes, I remembered but that letter was months ago. Well, then he told me. He had completed a chief's course in Florence and was not going to return to Italy with her. Instead he had lined up an entry position at the [name deleted] resort and would be starting the day after we returned from our planned escape into the wilderness. Did "she" know? "No," he said smiling. Did he plan to tell her? Another "No," with more smiling. Did anyone know? "Only my mother," Antonio admitted. Their reservation to return was on the close to midnight flight to Rome the next evening when we were all due back.
He planned simply not to go back to our place and instead stay at a cheap hotel near his new place of employment for a few days. "But then can I come and stay with you guys for awhile, please? I won't be any bother."
_d_a_m_n_! The boy was going to stand up to her. He had it all planned out. He said he had mailed her a letter at my place the day we left so should already have read it. He told her none of us knew anything about it. He said the letter simply told her "Goodbye." I was shocked! Bruce and Chris, when he told them, thought it was a great idea!
Curiosity overcame me and I asked him about that other night when she paddled him. "Ah, that," he said smiling, "hey, I like it sometime and wanted it one more time for memory's sake. Anyway I can be a real brat sometimes and sure was that night so I deserved it." Bruce and Chris joined him in laughing with high five's. Not being sure what to say, I said nothing.
It happened too. When Bruce, Chris and I got back home, we were alone. Ana was beyond herself with fury and demanded to know where Antonio had gone? Honestly, I told her the truth: I just did not know. He had been with us until we stopped for lunch but then he wandered away. And he had! I had no idea where he was! Sorry, but I didn't!
I went with her to the airport to see her safely off. The drive out there was like being in a hearse! How could I say, "Hope you had a great vacation; come visit again"????? Finally we tried to part friends as she disappeared into Immigration and I went back home feeling more washed out than I can ever remember feeling before.
And the next evening when I got back home from work, Antonio was there talking up a blue street with Chris and Bruce all out there around the pool and looking at photos from the jungle. He asked to stay awhile in the guest room and seemed thrilled and excited about what he kept calling his "career change." My contribution to the boys' continuous conversation, even excitement, that evening was removing that paddle from the bedside drawer in the room where he was sleeping.
Cal