Occasionally I run into interesting situations (at times via MMSA Stories readers). One of the more unusual, which I have only mentioned to a very few MMSA Stories readers who write frequently, I'll share now. Believe it or not, it is true. Cal
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It was in a smaller town, about 45 plane minutes on a small plane from the capital's main airport (or 2 1/3 hours by luxury bus), where I stumbled on to him and "it." The town itself has a large university in the middle of it and the economy of the area reflects that university's reputation for excellence in technical applications. It is industrial by nature, pricey as is the case throughout that country, and anything but an attraction on any international tourist's map. But in the midst of the town technical reputation is a small but thriving artistic community and galleries.
Anyway, the last time I was there I met a flaming guy, a middle-aged artist of some renown it turned out. The moment I saw him enter, though I had no idea who he was, I could not help but notice his dramatic flair. The whole bar did! I was there on business and quietly having a drink in the hotel's lobby bar my first night. I had just ordered when he entered in all his coiffured glory wearing enough yardages to outfit a third-world village. He took a seat next to me at the bar. I did not handle it well. I just plain stared!
He certainly was not shy with strangers as it was not long before he started talking to me whether I wanted to listen or not. He was so flamboyantly dressed and so flip with lines of humor that he was easy and very pleasant to talk with. He started slugging down cherry martini's (whatever they are) with ease and soon I felt uncomfortable there nursing the same glass of white wine while he was putting them down steadily. He used my lack of what he called "serious drinking" as his initial line and soon he had me laughing, no roaring, at his humor. Turned out he is an artist – good thing, dressed like that!
One thing lead to another and he ended up inviting me to dinner at his place the next night, "if you can make it?" Why not? If his art was as wild as his dress and humor, the evening had to be better than yet another rubber hotel dinner. I agreed with pleasure.
Thus it happened that a car had pulled up at my hotel at the appointed hour the next evening and a driver with a sign picked me out and ushered me into the back seat for the ride a bit out of town for dinner. That artist's place was tucked up in a thick forest area on the side of a steep hill at the base of what appeared to be a rather large mountain range. As such, though very isolated, the drive up his private lane in the car was beautiful. Then driver stopped at a huge gate, rang a bell, the gate opened, and the car continued on up to the house. Inside that gate, from there on up, there were fascinating modern sculpture pieces periodically placed on both sides of the drive. Obviously this was one artist who was not "struggling"!
Ultimately I was delivered to a neat looking wooden home, a series of what appeared to be smaller adjourning houses, nestled under trees and surrounded by thick growths of deeply green bushes and smaller trees. My host did not disappoint me as he stood there waving as the car approached. His clothes were also flamboyant tonight, with an appropriate French beret lobbed on one side of his head. He greeted me gregariously as if I had known him for years and I, for one, was happy to be there. Art I do like and there were sculptures everywhere! Just a great place!
Once inside the house, though, I was surprised to find more than just his art pieces. There stood three college-age boys who, he said, worked for him and sometimes were his models (though he said there were seven!). All were good looking guys, certain not average, friendly, and seemed extraverted. All also wore identical "uniforms" that were a very, very thin mesh see-through, white draw sting pull-ups that left nothing to your imagination. Under those mesh slacks each wore very obvious skimpy white briefs that were clearly visible. Their briefs looked tight enough that how they had stuffed their _c_o_c_k_s in them was unclear. Their _c_o_c_k_s themselves were visible within the sheer white material of those briefs. Squirt a little water and these boys would have been as good as naked. The back of their bikini's barely covered their buns but instead drew your eyes to them anytime they turned. The boys also all wore loose flowing, white Romeo shirts, unbuttoned except for the final button at that point where their pant's draw strings hung loosely. Accordingly the shirts were flowingly open and at times dropped off their shoulders making their chests often exposed, showing their pecs and abs as they moved doing one thing or another around the place. These boys did not at all seem embarrassed or even uncomfortable in any way at the openly erotic and suggestive ways they were uniformed from what I could tell. The artist touched them freely and, based on their reactions, they seemed used to it. In that particular atmosphere there, especially with my host's costume, somehow their dress did not seen especially unusual either.
"Let me introduce my boys," my host – lets call him Dicran for privacy -- said as he told me about them, one by one. "I enjoy the beauty of male company and thought you might also. They are my models, my inspiration for my art, but they work here." Dicran smiled, patting one's buns openly and intimately on his pull ups while he continued as if all of this was perfectly normal, "Beautiful ass," he commented, "it's what attracted me to him." Then going to another, "Now, this one's _c_o_c_k_, as you can see, is quite exceptional. Don't you agree he's good looking?" If his intent was to shock me, by this point he had succeeded, but the boys seemed completely at ease while he pointed out their obvious physical attractions and spoke about them as he wished. In fact both smiled, seemed proud, and were certainly not in any way uncomfortable. "Now this one's gorgeous, at least I think so," he commented while tweaking the boy's firm nipple. "He needs a lot of attention, but he's worth it!" he commented while the boy himself beamed with price. Dicran leaned over to me, "likes his ass patted a lot, this one does," he whispered. The boy moved away. "Personally I find it inspirational to watch my boys and enjoy their services in the evenings. Be my guest, please." He concluded.
"Guest" for what, he had not bothered to mention!
The three boys themselves were as if part of a private cabaret show. They seemed eager to be seen and at times closed around or even were up against both of us as if vying for physical affirmation. When I ventured and touched one, he smiled and lit up nicely. "I like you," he joked and walked away showing his ass in those see-throughs in a way that I could not help but notice it's eroticism. He looked back over his shoulder, seemed to smile, then went to the bar to make himself a drink knowing full well I was watching his buns as he walked. That boy in New York City would have been laid down immediately . . . but this was not New York City! When he finished making himself a drink, he walked back toward me exhibiting the rest that he had to offer and finally sat down beside me.
My host, Dicran, had turned out to be a real character who put on quite the show. He is very open, nothing left to guess about him or these boys even though I found the fact that he had a total of seven of them to be surprising.
A fourth boy, a taller one, more well build with longer hair and more sharply chiseled features came in about then out of breath from apparently running. "Sorry, I'm late," he spoke to Dicran not paying any attention to me while he was also at the same time hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt and ripping it off. By the time he got to nodding toward me he was unbuttoning his jeans and dropping them, finally stepping out of them as he left the room in just his boxers to head for a shower. But about ten minutes later he too returned dressed identically to the others in those same sheer pants and flowing shirts. By far he was the most masculine and, from what I could see, the best built.
So now there were four enticingly dressed and good looking boys maybe 16-21 around, clearly appealing and _s_e_x_ually alive, if not active. I wondered if it was like this here every night? Artists were often different, but not this different!
Dinner was elaborate; Dicran turned out to be an exceptional cook, the conversation was pleasant, and the whole atmosphere was erotically tinged but tasteful. All four boys ate with Dicran and I at a very formally set table complete with wines and goblets and two huge silver candelabras that cast a flickering glow over the room. That candlelight added to their dress, if anything making them more appealing and mysterious. It was as if the whole evening was a well planned drama. The boys participated in the table conversation freely and normally though they kept getting up to get something, to clear something, or bring something else out. It was obvious these boys were educated. All shared our host's interests in the arts. None seemed in any way ill at ease with their near naked exposure.
When the younger looking boy who was pouring an exotic spicy tea dripped some on the table, Dicran sounded like a wounded whale screaming out "Well, we can't have that, now can we?" But Dicran when further. He called that boy over, pushed back his chair, pulled the lad over his lap while yanking down his pulls up at the same time and swatted his errant boy's bikini clad bottom. His bikini -- which only very barely covered the boy's buns in the first place when he was right across Dicran's lap, looked more like a thong in separating his buns nicely. Dicran did not seem to notice or care. Instead he quickly slapped his boy's almost naked and bare fanny five or six times very very hard. The boy wiggled and squirmed frantically but only yelped a bit. Still when he again stood his face was red, as were his buns, and his eyes were watery too. He said he was sorry. Dicran still seemed to pay him no attention and instead simply pulled up his pants and tied them again for him. The boy apologized yet again and left the room momentarily looking very embarrassed.
After everything else, I did not think much of it. In fact as if on cue as soon as the boy left the room, Dicran and the other three boys still at he table, laughed and raised their glasses. "To discipline," they chanted. They just laughed and then the tallest one refilled all the glasses.
I was not sure what to say?
It turned out that I did not have to say anything at all. Conversation continued as if nothing at all had just happened. Mostly we talked about his art which he was happy to show me. Much of it was sculpture, but he also had many pen and ink sketches of these same boys in various natural behaviors and others with enticingly pretty female models as well. None were erotic or adult "themes" but, at least to my eyes, there was an undertone of suggestiveness in some of them. Ultimately we ended up in a large more open air glass room with several rattan couches and comfortable extra large chairs. Floor to ceiling glass doors led out on a porch that overlooked both the valley and the city. All his boys, including the one slapped a few moments ago, were by that time in that sitting room, overlooking the city lights. Drinks were refreshed by then and it was, all in all a pleasant evening with good company though getting late for someone like me who had meetings to attend the next day.
Then without warning Dicran told the boys to take off their pants and each one stood up and did exactly that, again acting as if it was nothing. Dicran simply turned to me and mentioned casually that he liked to see "all his boys had to offer." Then he smiled briefly before charging off on another topic. The after dinner discussion continued with these boys now in only their freely flowing shirts and bikinis that did nothing more than separate their buns nicely. All four boy were like that then, including the one who's buns were rather red from having been swatted at the dinner table. No one seemed to think anything at all about it . . . except me!
Those briefs he had them wear looked uncomfortably tight and very see through. In short, their pubic hair, _c_o_c_k_ and balls were covered by the white mesh material, but they were practically naked. These briefs restrained them; that's about all! And they must have been uncomfortable to wear and apparently they were for in time all but the one he'd swatted eventually just pulled them completely off on their own and tossed them aside on the floor. Thus, by now in the evening, the conversation was proceeding even though his boys, looking very comfortable now, were around us completely naked except for those swinging Romeo shirts with their long shirt tails seductively covering them only partially. Roman's preparing for an orgy could not have done it with more style!
It was the tall boy who had first taken off his briefs and tossed them aside. On him they must have been especially restrictive as he was not only very well built but also very well endowed. He seemed happy to be rid of them, but the other boys looked good when they took their briefs off too. None of them had anything to be ashamed of and they were all more than willing to show their bodies in that room. Freed of those briefs, they all seemed more comfortable. It was as if they did this every night. And they were not shy either! One came and sat down beside me on the couch. When he sat his flowing shirt parted in a way that left him almost complete naked. He simply did not seem to notice or care that his _c_o_c_k_ and balls were openly on display beside me. Rather, he was animated talking about some water colours he was working on in a university project!
The boys work for Dicran and he is paying them. Some are his models, he had said. He said he enjoyed seeing their bodies and watching their natural movements. No question he was footing the bills; but there was also no question these three boys were happy to indulge him in anything he wanted.
Dicran touched and openly felt them freely as he wished, including fondling them at times, but the boys seemed to relish it too. It was as if they were participating in some ancient pagan games vying for his attention in the most personal ways possible.
The one boy he had disciplined stayed particularly close to him, never left his side, and sat right beside him. Later Dicran casually unbuttoned that boy's shirt and parted his shirt tails to better enjoy his _c_o_c_k_ as he was speaking casually to another. The boy, in his open display of nudity, was beautiful. His _s_e_x_uality shined! Then, almost immediately, Dicran covered the glistening tip of his boy's strengthening _c_o_c_k_ with his hand as if to protect the youth's modesty from the glances of the rest of us. Dicran sat talking about something else as the boy turned on and seemed to stay "on." If this boy was embarrassed, it did not show. Instead he nuzzled up to Dicran obediently and submissively.
With everyone except me ignoring the whole thing, normal conversation continued to flow among the other boys as they played it coy and seemed to be fine with it all. Actually they each appeared to welcome touch, almost to seek it -- though none of them lingered too close to Dicran for too long except this one he had disciplined. I do not know how much he pays them (remember, he said he had seven!) but they were all good exhibitionists who certainly had no problems as they kept doing things and occasionally getting things for him, keeping his glass full, leaning over in ways to encourage him to feel them and then pulling away suddenly and playfully. The boys were equally self assured and confident no matter what they had on or what they might be exposing.
All of this may sound unbelievable. Never mind, it was all openly taking place even tastefully so. Dicran is quite the character. His art is high quality. Certificates and awards on the wall blared forth his professional background and peer acceptance. His name is recognizable and his pieces are in galleries and private collections. Dicran's no flake. His work is in no way erotic at all. His lifestyle, however, is quite private and very different for the sake of "artistic inspiration," as he kept referring to it.
The evening seemed to fly and it soon was later than I realized, but just before I was about to suggest the car take me back to the hotel, the boy he had swatted at the table went up to him again and sat down beside him again, very close again, in an extra large overstuffed chair. The boy seemed embarrassed but he hugged him and, I think, possibly gave another apology, maybe? In short, Dicran hugged him back tightly, patted him, kissed his cheek, and again held his hand on the boy's _c_o_c_k_ and balls. But, as his _c_o_c_k_ extended this time, the boy crawled up on his lap while Dicran continued to hug him and then began patting him more frequently on his bare bottom.
Thought it all, Dicran just kept talking to me about things unrelated to the boy.
Dicran only once remarked that the boy was sad but to just ignore it. I thought he mean the boy was sad because he had been hit at the table and humiliated in from of an outsider. But no, after a bit Dicran began to elaborate that this boy was getting emotional because he knew he was going to be disciplined for what he had done earlier before I had arrived and the time was now getting closer. He was hugging the boy openly while speaking to me. The boy's head became nestled in his shoulders. The boy was paying attention to no one or nothing except Dicran.
When I looked, Dicran added something to the effect that they had rules here "too" and the boy was going to get "the stick" soon.
Again I was the one surprised. The other guys did not seem to be paying any attention to any of this – certainly not the tall boy close beside me on the couch who was directing his attentions toward me. Dicran seemed almost to be preparing the boy for something, but his actions and the boy's reactions suggested something private and personal. The boy himself was hugging Dicran tightly, his head was buried on his shoulder while he continued to snuggle up against him, he seemed almost emotional, but I could not really tell.
About then with the boy on Dicran's lap nearing a peak oblivious to any of the others of us there, Dicran matter-of-factly mentioned that in his house discipline was given at midnight and he needed to take time to correct this boy. If I did not mind, would I excuse them for a bit or "better yet," he added, would I come with them? Patting the boy's bare ass, he said openly, "This one needs some attention."
A clock began chiming at midnight and at that sound and the words of Dicran, the boy on his lap was now visibly unhappy. Obviously the kid understood.
The boy was very _s_e_x_ual by then and radiated his emotions toward Dicran. Regardless, it was clear that that was not what was about to happen!
I said he should take his time and I would stay if he wished. He did. I stayed.
The tall, almost naked boy beside me got up and disappeared and from somewhere got some sticks that looked more like what I would call switches. Dicran picked his boy up off his lap and half carried him toward another room. The boy himself began to struggle but another boy grabbed his legs and together they carried the boy into that next room. Dicran yelled out for me to follow. It was a bedroom. No lights were on but dim and flickering candlelight filtered in from the other room we had just left. There was an eerie atmosphere in that bedroom. He put his boy down, bare bottom nicely up, on the bed. The boy began to struggle and resist more but without much success as two of the boys grabbed and held his feet. The third boy, the very tall one, held his left arm. I was asked to hold his right arm and I did so.
The boy to be disciplined was immobilized like that. No one seemed to be in any hurry. His white mess shirt was pulled far up over his shoulders and over on top of his head leaving him beautifully naked for all practical purposes from his bare shoulder blades completely right down his body to his ankles. Stretched out in the flickering dim light like this, it was even more clear that here was an exceptionally attractive and well build young man about to receive some discipline. The boy's naked waist and bare bottom were wiggling and straining on the bed and against the pillows that were being forced under his waist to raise his naked ass up higher to receive better attention. His bare buns that were white but still slightly rosy from earlier were tight and firm. They looked good raised up that way bare and high as his limbs were held tightly to stretch him out for Dicran's ministrations. And the boy himself clearly understood the kind of attention he was about to receive. As such he was not acting but he was every bit the teenage boy about to get whipped for something whether he wanted to be or not. He seemed trying to be still and quiet but he could not be. Instead he was frantically clenching his bare ass as tightly as possible to protect it. Obviously the boy knew what was about to happen to him.
The other boys, almost naked themselves, held this one boy tightly but silently. It was as if they were performing an ancient ritual well known to each of them. It was something they each recognized had to be done. No words were spoken, though the boy strung out to be disciplined was reverent in his promises and apologies. He was struggling but it was doing him no good at all. Instead this stretched out younger boy looked good held down naked, struggling now for all he was worth anyway. His hips and waist were jerking but his bare ass was high on the pillow waiting. The whole situation was, in fact, more than just enough now to add interest and promise. No one was paying any attention to this boy, stretched out naked, waiting, his bare ass about to be whipped soundly. Soft lights still filtered in from the outside room giving the whole scene an increasingly eerie atmosphere with the naked boy strung out tightly while the three others, almost equally naked, were holding him tightly. In that dim light it was his tight bare ass and prominently displayed buns unnaturally propped up high on those pillows that were the center of attention right then on the bed before us. Regardless of how he struggled, he was about to be whipped in punishment. We all held him and were going to watch him get it. The four of us holding his arms and legs securely made it impossible for the boy to do anything about it. It was going to happen. All he could do was wait and wonder when it would begin?
Discipline promised was to be discipline given.
Dicran took his time, walked slowly around in the shadows on the outskirts of the room. He was swinging the bare switch in his hands and looking at the young bare bottom exposed up bare and high over those pillows. Those bare buns were clenching wildly there on the bed just waiting for his attention. The boy was frantically turning his hear one way then the other in a futile attempt to see where Dicran was and what was happening. The switch was going to whip him and provide his discipline. The boy struggled knowing that. We all knew that as we held him tightly to insure Dicran would whip him!
Moreover, the boy himself did not have too long to wait. Dicran suddenly walked quickly up beside him. As he walked he raised his arm high and without warning whipped that switch down across the boy's bare bottom. That first stripe went hard right across both of those firm bare buns. The boy felt that sting, the first tell-tale sting when the switched landed on his buns and immediately jerked forward almost violently further plowing his body into the pillow in a fruitless attempt to escape the worst of it. He yelled out clearly. His arms pulled frantically against us holding him as he tried to free himself, but he could not. He was being held tightly. And then it happened. Dicran began to switch this boy's bare bottom. As if thoroughly practiced in this art too, Dicran switched the boy very, very thoroughly and methodically too. It was as if there was an unspoken drum rhythm in his head being followed as that switch was drawn across the boy's buns dependably but slowly. Dicran's arm raised high with the switch about to be brought down and then it would happen. Another strip on that young bare bottom. The boy himself soon cried out loudly, said lots I sure did not follow, but he constantly jerked wildly to avoid the unavoidable. But no matter how much he tried, he could not avoid the rhythmic inevitable as the switch landed across his bare bottom again and again.
Dicran began first with simple, short stings with the switch across his full buns, then he built up to some harder stripes that left the boy in pain and crying. It was clear he knew what he was doing in the way he whipped his boy thoroughly and carefully while in a way to bring him to tears but not to damage him. The boy struggled hard and fought it in every way he possibly could, but he was being held down firmly now. He could not escape. The switch thrashed his bare ass. Red stripes evidenced where.
While we held the straining boy, Dicran silently whipped him thoroughly in discipline. His boy's bare bottom got most of it and from the way the boy strained and struggled he clearly felt it, but Dicran also forced him to lay perfectly still and, as soon as he did, striped him twice across his upper back thighs. The youth howled out clearly then but I bet he would not make the same mistake that had brought this discipline to him again.
When Dicran finally stopped, his boy was crying, no, more like sobbing openly and very freely. His head was buried in the bed the best he could now. He cared nothing about his open nakedness now or who might be there to see him punished. He was lost in his own open tears.
Dicran silently sat down beside him on the bed and gently began stroking his scarlet whipped buns. He patted them and fingering them and him too in anyway he wished as he began to talk quietly to his boy for what seemed like a long time. The boy cried it all out freely. At points Dicran leaned down and whispered into his ears. I continued holding the young man's arm with the other three practically naked boys, still holding his other limbs as well. The other boys seemed fixated on what they had just witnessed as they stared silently at the boy's whipped, naked bottom.
When the boys holding his feet (one who had the been the boy beside me on the couch initially) saw Dicran sit down and stroke the youth's buns, those two boys moved the youth's legs and thighs so the disciplined boy was spread well for Dicran's pleasure. Dicran reached between his crying boy's buns, between his naked thighs and under him so as to pull down and back his _c_o_c_k_ and balls. Everything was visible now.
Dicran started to stroke him and brought the boy erect quickly, though not enough for the disciplined boy to cum. His boy squirmed some as he was manipulated for Dicran's pleasure, but the disciplined boy was still held so tightly by the rest of us that he continued to be basically immobile. Whenever his boy was just about to cum, Dicran's palm landed flat and hard on the boy's bare bottom. He kept it up until he had spanked him enough that the youth was nicely red all over. Dicran had striped his buns, but not broken skin. Now he was spanking him and leaving his buns red all over. Not a word had been spoken while he spanked him. And, he had not been permitted to cum.
After he finished spanking him, Dicran sat, stroked, and patted the disciplined boy for a long time, occasionally giving him a hard swat or two which always got a reaction. Over time the boy's resistance lessened and he seemed to relax some. They were talking intimately but I do not know about what? The boy was still not permitted to cum. This was discipline pure and simple.
finally, Dicran took the boy into his arms on the bed. He held him tenderly, comforting him, almost like lovers which I later found out they were not. "I'd like some privacy with him now for awhile, OK?"
No one objected. The other three boys and I let go of the punished boy's limbs we had been holding throughout it all and I went back out into that larger sitting room. When those boys came out, I have to admit they looked a ashen and were quiet, but regardless conversation somehow soon picked up where we had left off earlier. These three boys sat by me again and soon we were talking about a movie we had all seen independently. It was almost as if nothing at all had happened.
The door to the other room was closed tightly now. Privacy was being afforded the boy for whatever he was being put through, forced or welcomed.
Part II to follow . . .