Patric left the office and hurried tot he elevator. He thought about going to his office to get his coat and book bag so that he could leave for home directly from the gym, but Dr. David had said to go directly to the gym, and silly as it was, Patric didn't want to disobey. Dr. David might find out.
In the elevator, he reached back with his hand and touched his ass. It was thrilling. The heat and pain had spread and deepened, but his fingertips brought the sting right to the surface again, like touching a sunburn. When he touched one or two places, he felt real pain, like a cut or bad scrape. Had the meter stick broken the skin? Or were there welts? He was not sure. Privately he hoped so, even though it meant more embarrassment in the locker room than he could stand. Well. He would be quick about the shower and the jerking off, and get out as quick as he could.
He pinched his ass cheeks together and released them with each step and by the time he arrived at the gym, about a quarter mile from the office building, he was nearly fully erect. Suddenly he realized that he did not have a gym bag, or towel or anything else with him. He did not even have an ID to show anyone in the gym to gain admittance to the showers. If no one or someone who did not know him was on duty, he was not sure how he would get in. But if the person on duty did know him, that might be worse.
No one was in the gym. The building was open, but the pool, fitness center and gym proper were all closed and dark. The locker room was locked. Now what? The offices up stair and around the outer corridor might have someone in them, but how would he explain to one of the PE staff, a member of the faculty like himself, that he wanted to take a shower, now, this minute, without any gym bag, without working out? That might be hard to explain. But what choice had he.
Just then the choice came in the door. Tony Avelino had maintained the gym and surrounding grounds and parking lots for years.
"Hey, Tony, do me a favor, OK? Open the locker room for me, will ya? I really want to take a shower."
"Now, Pat?" No one at the college drew any distinction between faculty and staff. They all used first names. "I thought everyone would be gone, it being Friday before classes and all."
"Yeah, well, I've got a couple hours of paperwork to do yet, and I was falling asleep at my desk, and so I thought, well, why not?"
"Yeah I know how it is. Sure. Here." He unlocked the door, pushed it open and held it. "It will lock when you leave, so don't forget your pants!" The tall man joked, and stood aside.
"No, I'll try not to. See you Monday, Tony." Good, empty and locked, he would have the time and privacy he wanted. A touch of the switch at the door, and the entire locker room area blinked into florescent light.
He didn't wait for the janitor's comment, but walked quickly into the locker room. Hmmmm, now the problem of towels. The clean ones used by the staff and some of the varsity teems were stacked in neat piles in "the cage" under lock and key. Patric solved the problem by taking two towels out of the laundry cart next to the shower room. Damp, used, smelling of someone's body, the raunchiness of it teased him and made his penis all the stiffer.
He quickly picked a locker, opened it and started to take off his clothes. He realized he didn't have his belt on. Another jolt to the penis. As he pushed down his pants, the same tingle of pain-pleasure moved across his ass. In a moment he was naked. He stepped into the shower room and turned on two shower heads, testing the pressure. He adjusted the temperature, and stood back.
The wall at the other end of the shower room bore a full-length mirror, 4' wide. Patric walked up to it and turned his back. He looked over his shoulder and let out a little gasp. His ass was dark red, darker than scarlet. Across it he could count four or five lighter, almost white lines, two of them, probably the last two cuts with he meter stick, slightly raised to the touch and tender. Elsewhere his ass boasted of more than a dozen rounded rectangles of still deeper red or purple. The strap. These marks appeared when the man snapped the strap against the ass particularly forcefully.
Patric had no idea he had taken so much. Nor that it had left such evidence. Had there been anyone in the locker room, there would be no question as to what had happened, nor to how recently.
Patric walked back to the running shower, picked up a bar of soap from the holder on the wall, and stepped under the water. The hot water hit his chest and he breathed deeply. He soaped up and worked a later on his chest and belly. When he turned around, the water hit his rump like needles, pricking and stinging for an instant, and then increasing the heat, and subsiding into a joyful pain-pleasure. He closed his eyes and sighed.
His right hand rubbed the soap into his pubic hair, and his left hand started to pull on his penis. In no time, the soapy lather greased his member and allowed him to concentrate on what he was doing. The water on his ass. Needles pricking his bottom. Pulling on his penis. "Pulling his putz." His burning ass. "Pumping my peter." Water assaulting his sore behind. "Pounding the pud." A sharp stab of pain as the spray hit one of the welts head-on. "Gallop the turkey." The ache of lower part of his ass, where his thighs emerged. "Flog the bishop." All the various irreverent, childish, humorous ways of saying "masturbating" came to his mind, and to his slightly parted lips in quiet whispered tones.
And then the release. Five. Six. Seven bolts of semen splattered on the floor, and dribbled across his hands. And he gasped and sighed, and even laughed a little under his breath. How long had it been since he beat off in the shower? Years. How long had it been since he was beaten so royally? Also years. And he had to admit, he loved both, had missed both. And he had to admit he did not know which sensation, the orgasm or the beating, he enjoyed more.
"You know, Pat, you were right. A shower is just the thing!" Tony Avelino swaggered into the shower room, his had body covered in sweat and his long penis swinging between his legs.
Pat jumped and quickly turned to face he man, or rather to put his back to the wall. He didn't look to see if semen still dripped from the end of his penis and hoped soap suds hid it if it did.
"Uh, yeah, um it is."
"Oh, I'm sorry if I startled you." The big man made no show of surprise or wonder. Perhaps he had noticed nothing. He walked down the row of showers and turned one on.
Patrick hurriedly rinsed off, keeping his back away from the other man, and when Tony's back was turned, quickly got out into the locker room. He sat down on the bench near his locker, and without more than a cursory toweling off, reached for his pants to put them on. Just then someone touched his shoulder.
Richard Henry David said, "Well, Mr. Collins. I am impressed. Obedient to the last. Here, I have something for you."
As Patrick Collins turned around, the younger man held out Patric's belt. He blanched, reached for it, and stopped.
"No, nothing with the strap. I just thought you might need it. And these." He pulled a pair of white boxers from his jacket pocket."
"Thank you." Patric took the boxers and quickly pulled them up over his still damp, badly discolored backside. He continued to dress without comment.
"Hurry and dress, Mr. Collins. I have something for you that I know you will enjoy and that you certainly have earned by obedience and well, let us say endurance."
He had something? That he had earned? Patric didn't understand, but made no comment and hurried to dress, if only to escape Tony's scrutiny. He buttoned his pants and took the belt and threaded it through his belt loops, his smarting ass keeping him conscious of where he had been and what the belt had been used for just a few minutes before.
Richard Henry David turned and started to walk out of the locker room. "Follow me, please." Patric followed more from curiosity than obedience.
As they passed the half-open locker where Tony's clothing hung, Richard Henry David reached in and unhooked the ring of keys from the maintenance man's belt. Without missing a meat, he continued to and through the door to the locker room. Patric followed without comment.
The two men walked down the hall one door, where the young man tried a key in the lock. It did not open. The second key failed as well, as did the third. Finally the forth key opened the door, and the two men entered the "cage" room.
"What are we doing in here, David?" Patric, fully dressed, no longer felt quite so dominated. But the younger man said nothing, and moved the straight backed desk chair out from the desk turning it to face the room. He sat in it, upright though relaxed.
"Well, Mr. Collins," (so the game was still going on!) "I was very impressed with the way you took your discipline. And then to come down here and witness your further obedience. Well, I think you deserve a reward, and I have one for you."
"A reward?" Patric suspected something. "What kind of a reward."
"One you will enjoy. One you will like getting." The pause continued for nearly 30 seconds. "A spanking."
"What? I mean, no, I mean....."
"Now, now. Admit it. You enjoyed what we did in my office and you know you want more. That was disciplinary: severe, fast, and curt. This is not. This is an enjoyment."
Patric looked through the window into the locker room. Anyone in the locker room could see in the cage area through the huge window that formed the wall between the two rooms.
"Oh, don't worry. He won't see. And if he does, so what? I will over him the same reward and he will likely take it. Now, do I reward you or not? If I do, then drape yourself over my lap. If I do not, then let us part now. Permanently."
Without thinking, without considering the consequences, Patric Collins moved to the right side of the chair and bend over the younger man's lap. The spanking commenced at once.
Richard Henry David was right: this was sensuous. Slow, hard firm swats, each delivered with enough force to hurt but not so much as to be unendurable. Spaced all over his ass evenly up and down, back and forth. The spanking reawakenedand deepened the welts and soreness of his ass. Tony Avelino sang "Mala Femina" in a loud, rolling baritone.
The spanking continued, on the seat of Patric's pants. Long, hard, spaced swats, each a kiss of gentle fire, and each one made Patric long for the next. Yes, a spanking like he had received in the office was disciplinary. This was indeed a reward.
The singing stopped. The shower noise ceased, and after three final swats, Patric landed on the floor at Richard Henry David's feet. "There you are Pat. Again, thank you for the tour. You are a most brave man. I will see you again, Monday perhaps. Oh, here, return these to your shower buddy."
Richard Henry David tossed Patric Collins the ring of keys, and left the cage area. Pat hurried into the locker room, and dropped the keys on the floor near Avelino's locker and left before the man came into the locker room. When he left the gym and looked up an down the pathway, there was no sign of his mentee.