On December 10, 2004, a bunch of my high school friends got together for a party at a friend's house. We just wanted to hang out and relax, but the night ended with a really hot guy naked and taking some pretty bad punishment.
The party was at Jason Pauley's house. Jason and I play football together for a large county high school in a rural area of Illinois. Jason lives in a nice ranch-style home on part of his grandparents' family farm, although his folks don't farm. His folks would let us drink beer if we stayed the night. We would also build a bonfire, shoot pool or lounge on sectional sofas watching DVDs.
Jason is a tough linebacker for our team, despite being only 5' 10" tall and 165 pounds. He recently whipped the hell out of a much bigger kid in an after-school fight. He's in great shape and has these huge, piercing, gray-blue eyes. Amazing eyes. I wish I had them.
There were 24 kids at the house when we arrived, including 10 girls. The beer was flowing. Some kids were playing pool, necking, talking, playing video games or watching television. A few were shooting the shit by a bonfire outside. Jason was on his third beer when I got there.
Later, I heard a college friend of ours, David Meckless, telling Jason about a game called "blister pool" - something he had seen at school. He said the game "takes serious seeds to play." I couldn't overhear the rules but knew it involved a money bet and the possibility of ending up naked. Suddenly, Jason yelled out, "I'll do it. Who else has any fucking sack?" He taunted any number of my friends and finally me. "C'mon Seth, grow some", he said.
I have no idea why the hell I did it, but I yelled back, "OK, you're going DOWN." A bunch of kids near us made that funny "ooooooo" sound you usually hear when someone issues fighting words to somebody else in a crowd. Another friend yelled out, "Ohhh, yeah, it's ONNNN!!!" But I didn't know exactly WHAT was on.
Meckless told everyone to shut up and explained how the game worked. "OK, these guys are gonna play eight-ball until one of them loses three games. Lose one game, you strip to the waist. Lose a second game, you strip to boxers. Lose a third game, you lose the match and have to play the blister game naked. If the naked guy wins the blister game, he gets dressed. If the naked guy loses the blister game, he pays $30 to the winner plus $10 for each ball left on the table AND he bends over the table and takes 2 belt strokes on the ass plus 4 more strokes for each ball left on the table."
I was shell-shocked but knew I couldn't back out.
Meckless then said he needed a football player or wrestler to give the belt strokes. Immediately, James Brasso, a 6 foot-tall, 178 pound dude happily agreed to do it. There was muffled laughter in the crowd because everyone knew that James was a tough-ass middle linebacker and tackle, and that he gets mean as hell when he drinks. He has been in about ten schoolyard fights and he won them all. Everyone knew he would be totally merciless.
I felt a twinge of fear but also excitement. It was hot in the basement and I was afraid I might bone in front of everyone if I ended up playing naked. Ohhh, man. But it was too late now. Jason was already up in my face in a semi-humorous way, laughing and telling me how sore my ass was going to be. James was already popping the belt against the wall.
In game one, Jason won the lag and broke. He dropped two solids, and quickly got down to 2 balls. I missed my first shot. My nerves were firing and I could see my cue stick throbbing from my heartbeat. Jason won the game easily and I had to strip to bare chest. Some guys whistled and girls applauded. I heard a kid way in the back say "it's gonna HUR-urrrt."
Game two was longer and neither of us had any runs. I was beginning to get some beads of sweat on my bare chest and felt one run down my spine. Eventually, we were both shooting at the eight-ball. Finally, the eight-ball snuggled up against the side rail on the far side of the table. Jason called the near side pocket and shot the cue really hard. The eight vibrated violently on the rail and then rolled diagonally across the table into the near side pocket!! Everyone just roared. The shot was SICK.
Off came my jeans. All I had on, now, were these gray lycra boxer briefs.
They clung really tight and showed every curve and bulge. That got the girls fired up and the guys were hooting like mad. I was sure I was gonna pop wood, but I was too nervous. My dog of war stayed on his leash.
Game three was now life or death, but all I could do is sit there and watch as Jason ran every damned solid on the table. He was shooting at the eight and I was still in the chair. I knew I was going to be buck-ass naked in front of everybody (and maybe worse). I decided I was going to rip off the boxers really fast like it didn't bother me, but, oh, God, it did.
Jason had a good angle on the eight-ball even though it was again on the rail. He fired harder than he needed to and sank the eight. Match over.
I was Mister Naked. But, as I bowed my head in resignation, I heard a huge scream and heard Jason yelling FUUUUCK!!! After he sank the eight, his cue ball had rolled backwards and scratched. When I looked up, Jason was on the floor with his face buried in the carpet.
Jason's whole mood changed. Ignoring the catcalls and whistles around him, he ripped off his shirt and threw it at the wall. But I still had to win the last two games to keep my boxers.
Game Four is a blur and I only remember the ending. I got a shot at the eight and Jason still had a ball left. I missed and the cue ball rolled straight for a pocket. My heart was in my throat, but the cue ball stopped an inch short of the pocket. If Jason made his shot, he would have an easy shot on the eight. He did make his shot, but he scratched again, leaving me with the easy win instead. Now we were both down to boxers and facing game five.
The crowd was getting noisy and it must have been 100 degrees in the room. You can't imagine how hard it is to shoot a pool shot when you are shaking, half naked, sweaty and embarrassed. And then you hear this huge linebacker snapping a belt against a tile floor with loud "cracks"!!
I couldn't even imagine what the blister game would be like with so much at stake and having to play the game naked. I felt sick. Jason was getting pretty sweaty too.
In game five, I fell behind but then had a hot run. I ended up shooting at the eight ball while Jason still had two balls left. The only shot I had, though, was to hit the eight at a really thin angle and try to knock it between Jason's two remaining balls and toward the pocket at the far right corner. If I did that, though, my cue ball had a good chance of scratching. But I had to try. You cannot put the cue back in Jason's hands if you can avoid it. This was his table and he was good.
I measured and measured and then lined up, leaning low over the table with my glistening back and thinly-covered butt aimed toward a group of amused friends. I tapped the cue gently and it grazed the eight-ball on its left-most side. The cue went left and bounced just off the corner of the side pocket, barely avoiding a scratch. The eight-ball went right, passed neatly between Jason's two balls and on toward the corner. It stopped just as it reached the edge. The screams in the room were deafening as the eight-ball paused for a moment. Then it fell and huge roar followed.
Jason just stood there with a blank look. He threw down his cue in a half-pissed kind of way and, without any hesitation, peeled off his boxers.
Girls turned away but kept looking back and laughing nervously. The guys were making jokes about his "size." (They were completely unwarranted, but that's what guys always do in these situations.) Jason's white, muscular and very smooth body was there for all to see.
Jason is a really good looking guy with short black hair, a cute face with small features and those incredible large eyes.
He has just the tiniest little curve to his lower stomach that he calls his "beer-belly", but really there was none. He was hotter than hell standing there. He made absolutely no effort to cover his package with his hands as many guys do when naked in public.
I was so relieved I was shaking. I was entitled to get dressed for the blister game, but I just put on my jeans and stayed shirtless because of the heat. In the Blister Game, I got nothing on the break, as usual. Jason then had to bend over the table to make a shot, exposing his bare and slightly separated ass crack to the kids behind him. Each lean over the table drew hoots and hollers. It had to be damned hard to do, but it was starting to excite me and I was regretting not putting my jeans back on.
After pocketing two balls, he missed. Then I got one. Jason had to lean way over the table on the next shot. It pulled his ass crack open wide and made his legs look incredibly sinewy and muscular. The dimples on the side of his ass became very pronounced.
Again he missed, probably due to the crowd reaction. Then I went on a holy tear. After nailing four in a row, I was down to two balls and Jason still had five. To make matters worse, James was again cracking the soft, wide leather belt against a wall.
Jason was getting very wet all over and his back, chest and face were soaked. His nerves were getting to him and I almost felt sorry for him. We traded misses and finally I got both of my remaining balls and had a clear shot at the eight.
When I missed, a lot of the guys booed. I guess the damned sadists wanted to see Jason take some serious punishment. But then Jason missed again. He was really too mad, too wet and too nervous to shoot well. It was almost pathetic. I ended up with a gimme shot on the eight-ball and sank it easily. The basement erupted in screaming and laughter, but this time it was more like the sound of anticipation. Jason owed me $80, a lot for an 18 year old. Much worse, though, this kid was in for a very naked and very public ass-whipping. He had a brutal 22 belt strokes coming. It was going to be wicked.
To Jason, being a man is everything, so he took his medicine without hesitating. He walked around to the side of the table, bent over it and asked Kevin Sherman and me to grab his wrists from the other side. I don't know why he did that, maybe to heighten his appearance of bravery. Not sure.
The sight was incredible. Jason's wrists were clammy with moisture. His white arms and biceps were damp and flexing. Over the back of his head I could see his moist back, his small white boy butt and James approaching with the belt.
I started getting totally hard but no one could see since I was braced against the other side of the table. No one was looking at me anyway.
A bemused but frighteningly evil-looking James stepped forward and took his position. The crowd suddenly got really quiet as reality set in. This was going to involve some serious pain and humiliation and everyone knew it. Nothing like this had ever happened at our parties with the exception of a small branding episode one time.
James rolled up the buckle-end of the belt around his fist and had about 30 inches of belt free. The end of it would be whistling. You could have heard a pin drop when James said "ready?" Jason said "DO it" in a defiant tone. The first stroke made an incredibly high-pitched "crack!!" that had to melt flesh. Jason's head jolted up and his already-damp back arched. Kerry and I held on. Someone murmured "ohhhh, shiiiiit." Jason just made a muffled sound through a tightly-clenched mouth. I was told later that a long white welt appeared on his butt and quickly turned red.
Crack!! Number 2 landed. Every muscle in Jason's naked body tensed. His biceps were bulging as he tugged against our restraining grips. He buried his nose into the felt on the table.
3, 4, 5. After the sixth stroke, I saw Jason's face turning beet red. With each stroke, Jason was now starting to blow air and spit at us through clenched teeth, and James was not letting up.
7, 8, 9. After the tenth stroke, Jason was soaking wet. I could see the top edge of his ass turning beet red. Tears were welling up Jason's eyes and I told him the he needed to "dig in" just as Kevin told him "you can take it, man." Through locked teeth and pulsing jaw muscles, Jason was still spewing spit with each stroke.
The girls could hardly watch and one or two complained that it should stop.
The guys seemed concerned too, but were not a bit interested in stopping the punishment. I mean, what IS it about guys and pain? I think somewhere, deep down, guys want to think of themselves as tough enough to take pain like this, so they admire another guy who does.
I used to get hard watching television and movie whipping scenes. I guess that is why.
11, 12, 13. Fourteen brought a primal yell. Jason was now obviously crying and in great pain. His ass had deep maroon patches where the belt marks crossed. He was so wet and pulling so hard that Kevin and I were each straining to hold him with both of our arms. Jason's chest was bouncing up and down on the table, even between strokes.
Somewhere around the fourteenth stroke, Jason's younger brother, Dillon, yelled "THIS SUCKS!!" and ran upstairs.
He knew Jason wouldn't let anyone stop it and it frustrated Dillon to see his brother in such pain.
15, 16, 17. Eighteen was the worst stroke yet. James ripped one with all his might and Jason screamed through a misty cloud of flying spit and tears that showered my face. The sight of this naked, sweaty boy being belt-strapped in front of 30 friends was too much. I was titanium-steel hard and could feel precum sticking to my thigh.
19, 20, 21. Then there was a pause. Jason was still quaking, his deep crimson glutes quivering in anticipation of the last shot. But James withheld it. Jason yelled a sobbing "get it the FUCK over with!!!" and James let out the full length of the belt, holding only the buckle. With a sizzling "crack", he gave Jason the full measure of his strength and the belt's entire 36 inches. He didn't judge the length well, though, and when this strike landed, the tip of the belt whipped around the bottom of his ass-cheeks and the tip curled around him and stung him right on the balls.
Jason ripped violently out of our grip with a guttural sound, like someone having the breath knocked out of him, and dropped into a pathetic, naked ball on the floor. James was apologizing and two other friends dove down to check on him, one of them mad at James. Jason was openly crying and in agony. He was balled up with his legs crossed and both hands on his sack.
His ass so red you wondered if it was bleeding in spots.
After about 8 minutes, he was able to get up, but his lips were white and he had pale, sunken, wet eyes. With some help, he walked, still naked, to his bedroom and just got into bed. We tried to dry him off a little and pulled a sheet over him. He just turned onto his side, facing the wall.
For the rest of the night, the party was really subdued. More pool was played, but no blister pool. A couple of people got quietly drunk. A few watched television and cuddled on the couch. By 4 a.m., everyone was asleep. I went to check on Jason and he was still curled up and asleep, undoubtedly exhausted from his physical and mental ordeal. I put my hand on his bare shoulder and asked him if he was OK, but he said nothing. He was asleep, I guess.
Then I curled up with a pillow and small blanket on the floor beside his bed. As I look back on it, I think I was subconsciously guarding him from further harm. It had all been far too severe, but I was really proud of him for taking it like he did. I really respected him for that.
I think everyone did.