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By *ickK OP Man
1 week ago
Newcastle |
Sorry this has taken so long to continue.
“Boy No.2, go over and face the wallbars.” Mr Johnstone said to me. Obediently I went. “Hands on head. Feet apart.” I moved into the familiar position. “Feet further apart.” I moved my feet uncomfortably apart as the snug running shorts I was wearing tightened against my thighs and pressed against the plug I was wearing. Immediately I felt sir’s warm body behind me as he gently took hold of my elbows and pulled my arms back, making my chest tight. Sir knew what he was doing – I loved this sort of quiet and even gently control and submission and my cock hardened in my shorts but had nowhere to go.
Next I could hear the ropes which held Boy No.1’s arms outstretched to the beam being untied and the leather belt around his ankles removed. He was then led over to face the wallbars next to me and put into the same position with feet wide apart, hands on head, elbows well back. The hood has been removed and I saw how handsome he was with piercing blue eyes and messy blond hair.
“Now then, let’s have a little update on how we are doing,” sir said, his head between ours and his voice a stern whisper. “Boy No.1, did you follow the instructions on the card?” he asked. “Yes, sir” I replied. The card with his elegant handwriting appeared in my peripheral vision and I turned my head to see. “Eyes front” he snapped. “Go upstairs and change into what has been left out for you” he read. “I can see you have done that. Did you like the kit?” “Yes, sir” I lied. An unexpected and hard slap to the buttocks made me admit, “No, sir. Sorry, sir.” How did he have such an unerring sense of how I felt about things? “Take clamps off number one. I can see that was done. Good boy.” That ‘good boy’ was so rewarding! Such a little thing to do to win sir’s approval. “Squeeze. Make sure No.1 is hard for my arrival. Do not talk. – Did he squeeze, No.2?” “Only very gently, Master” said the other boy. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I had seen how he was suffering and tried to be gentle and now he was betraying me! “And he talked to me, Master” he said. “Is this true, boy” sir said, bringing his face right next to my ear as I stared straight ahead at the wallbar immediately in front of my face. “Yes, Master” I reluctantly agreed, resigned to the betrayal of my companion and fellow sufferer. This brought another sharp slap to my buttocks. “Did I tell you to call me Master?” sir asked. “No, sir” I replied. Then “Do”, slap, “what”, slap, “you”, slap, “are”, slap, “told,” slap. Involuntarily my feet had come back together as I tried to keep my balance against the slaps. “Feet apart” he whispered and I complied. My cock was now rigid and straining against the fabric of the tight shorts.
“Turn around, both of you” sir instructed. “Reach up to the top wallbar and feet off the ground.” We complied. “Lift you knees up to your chests” he said, “slowly” and we did do. I took a quick sideways glance at my companion and, despite his obvious athletic build, he was struggling to raise his knees. He seemed to have been put through his paces in the hot late summer afternoon before I had arrived and was glistening with sweat. His hair was matted onto his forehead and the nape of his neck. Again, I felt my cock twitch.
Sir stepped in front of my and took hold of my nipples gradually squeezing and increasing the pressure until it hurt and I squirmed. “So you didn’t follow the instructions on the card, boy. And what happens to disobedient boys?” For a moment the answer didn’t come to me and then I remembered, well half-remembered. “They get a spanking, sir.” “No, boy” he said loudly, making me jump after all the whispering. “Boy No.2, what do disobedient boys get?” “A damn good spanking, sir” answered Boy No.2 correctly. He won the sought-after approbation, “Good boy.”
“Feet down to the floor, boys.” We obeyed and my companion let out a little whimper of relief and I again became conscious of how he was struggling. Sir walked to the other side of the garage/playroom slowly, turned and came back in front of us. “Knees up to chests” he commanded and we obeyed. This was repeated a number of times until boy no.2 couldn’t raise his knees and stood there, head down, anticipating whatever was to follow. Sir took hold of his nipples and pinched hard, getting a gasp from the handsome boy. “And what happens to weak boys?” sir asked but immediately put a finger to boy no.2’s lips, saying “hush”! “Boy No.2?” “I don’t know, sir” I replied. “No, you don’t know, boy. Being disobedient gets you a damn good spanking. Being weak gets you a damn good . . . What? Boy No.1?” This was so horny. So calculating. My cock was surging in my shorts. The buttplug felt so tight and invasive. I just needed relief but obediently continued to hang there from the wallbars, arms straining, feet off the ground, myself now covered in sweat and feeling the sweat run down my forehand and stinging in my eyes. And I was so conscious of the humiliating “Boy No.2” written in marker pen on my chest. And then came the answer from boy no.1: “a damn good fucking, sir” and I almost spunked in my shorts.
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