"We ought to be making more from him" said Matthew as he cupped his hand over my right buttock. My bottom was red and sore already although Matthew had only been at it for a few minutes. His hand was warm, true, but my arse was red-hot. He stroked my back before methodically stinging the arse into life again. He's getting very handsome by the way. He must be twenty-one or so, but I've read young men may not mature completely till they're twenty-five. But I can feel the ripeness growing as I sprawl over his knees.
I'm stark naked these days. The lads were selling my arse, if not in the way usually implied by that phrase, at least it was a commodity, and Shane had said from the beginning that customers liked it that way, me naked that is. But the sort of customers we had could only contribute pence. "Peanuts" said Matthew, to no-one in particular, but I knew what he meant. There were a few men in gainful employment, as the lawyers have it, and that meant pounds sterling. The ones that had long left school, on the other hand, and hadn't worked once - they were useless. They came for long sessions and sat around in a circle, each one passing me on to his neighbour when his hand was tired and my tortured bottom momentarily lost its appeal. Each paid 50p to massage my cheeks and deliver the spanking, some rhythmically - I suppose they were the good dancers at the no-charge church-hall disco - but others in a haphazard way , so that I jerked my loins and clenched the buttocks a dozen times before they came down with a slap that sent my arse quivering as if an electric shock was coursing through it. And as for the occasional wino from over the back, Matthew had been forced, reluctantly, to let them have me for free.
"Advertise him" said Shane. But where to do it? Not in the local Gazette obviously.
"That's it" said Matthew, "on the internet." The lads discussed the details while they automatically slapped and smacked me till I could sense the bruising coming again, and I was sure Shane was drawing blood. At any rate I could feel a sticky liquid oozing down the crack.
"We need a name for him."
"Two or three at least" said Matthew, "to bring the punters back." He's a businessman as well as an Adonis.
In the end Shane came up with one name as he slapped my cheeks from side to side. "We'll put him up on those spanking sites and call him 'wobblebum' on them."
"We'll need an email address for him" said Matthew, and they fixed on 'bn17boy' because that was the local postcode.
"May as well go the whole hog" said Shane - and that was how I ended up on some other website they won't tell me about. I think it's one of those slave for master things. Matthew remarked that I was going to be public property now, and it's true enough. Apparently I'm on it as 'publicproperty'. Shane wrote the words and Darren (remember Darren?) took some photos for it.
By now I was screaming with the pain, and my arse felt like jelly, so Shane shoved one of my socks in my mouth to stifle the noise. He always squeals with delight when he does this. Matthew always remains calm and detached, although he did stroke my back. Has he got any feelings for me, or am I imagining it?
As someone or other said "The best-laid plans of mice and men ... " They couldn't think, when it came to it, how to ask for money on the internet, even 'peanuts', so they decided to rent me out free, if you see what I mean.