Sophomore Year 18
This is the eighteenth of a multipart story about my year boarding with a single dad and his two sons. It was a time of highly charged eroticism much more than explicit sex and led me to discover a lot about myself.
In telling this story I linger over the texture, atmosphere, and details because they continue to evoke such strong feelings, even after almost half a century. I cannot rush the plot forward and hope the gentle reader will find his patience well rewarded along the way.
In this very short chapter, Mr. Bill tells Hank a story that reveals important events shaping who is host is today.
Many thanks to all those who continue to send encouragement and share their own experiences and fantasies. I love hearing from Nifty readers.
And remember - Nifty depends on our donations! Let's help it survive and thrive! If you have ever shot a load reading a Nifty post, then please contribute if you can at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Sophomore Year 18
I froze when I realized that Buck must have already communicated with Mr. Bill about me and our interactions next door. I didn't know if it was from being wet, the sudden coolness of the night, or what he had just said, but I started to shiver.
"You're getting cold," he noted. "There's hot water in the showers over there and towels in that cupboard. Come back inside once you're dry and we'll talk."
The shower was a warm embrace. I wrapped myself in a plush beach towel and the shivering stopped. By the time I stepped back through the gliders and into the den, Mr. B. was back in his recliner, the lamp again illuminating his body and leaving his face in the shadows.
His voice intoned from the dark, "You've been ashamed of yourself and your body, haven't you?"
There was no denying it. "Yes, sir."
"And you're ready to rid yourself of that shame, aren't you?
I looked down at my feet, as though into my soul. "Yes, sir."
"It's time, isn't it, son?"
"Do you really think so, sir?"
"Let me tell you a story." I felt like I was listening to a radio program. "When I was in the Navy, I had hundreds of men under my command, most of them young, boys really, some who had joined the Navy because they knew they wanted to go somewhere else and be someone else but didn't know where or what. But they knew that the company of men was something they craved. Are you following?"
"Yes, sir. Go on, please."
"Order on a ship is essential, and to keep order you need discipline. I ran a very tight ship and insisted on discipline among my men. One of my tools was a beautiful old wooden paddle I'd been given by a former commanding officer of my own."
"I kept it in my cabin, not so much to use but more to symbolize something. The potential to bring a man to submission. Just knowing the paddle was always there exerted a powerful dynamic among the men. It hung in plain sight so that whenever a sailor stepped or even so much as looked into my cabin, he saw it and was reminded and would tell his mates."
"To keep it fresh in their minds, I always offered it as an optional punishment for infractions: extra duty or bare-assed licks on the deck in front of the crew. Very few men chose it but knowing it could happen helped keep them in line."
"Then, one day a new sailor on my crew caught my eye. I could see that he was shy and timid, quiet and reclusive. Some of the more brutish sailors had started teasing him. Bullies can smell a victim, you know; the fear is what attracts them. Fear of being singled out, embarrassed."
"But I could tell that inside this timid boy lurked a real man waiting to emerge. He just needed a door. So, when he committed a minor infraction by mistake, instead of offering the option, I made the choice for him. I announced that, instead of extra duty, this young sailor had chosen the whipping."
"For the first time in years, a sailor was brought on deck before the full crew and his pants lowered. He was bent over, and I laid into his pale bottom with skill and vigor. The crew could not take their eyes off him, for he had become every one of them. Each one of the crew could see himself in his place and feel what he was feeling. Instead of being different, this sailor became one of them."
"When finished, I made a short comment about his bravery and that any of the crew might seek to emulate his example. I also loudly instructed my medical officer to give him a lotion to help reduce the pain and welts."
"When the men returned to cabins, many sought out our new sailor to slap his shoulder and say, `Well done, man, you were brave.' Many also asked to see the results up close and admired how it burned and glowed. Some even offered to apply the soothing lotion. And thus, he became a beloved member of the crew, and hero among peers."
I was amazed by this story, and wondered if that could be the same paddle Buck had showed me next door. I was about to ask when he continued,
"That was not the last time. From then on, he would choose the paddle for any infraction and his spankings became a very popular spectacle on board. In fact, that is how he came by his name."
"His name?" I was puzzled.
"As I laid into his tender bottom, the sailor would jump and kick and rock, something the boys loved to watch. They'd hoot, `Look at him leap and flinch! He's a real buckin' bronco!' And that stuck as his name to this very day."
I am astounded as it dawns on me. "Buck."
"Yes, our very own Buck. And look at the man he has become. A man among men, that other men and boys look to for guidance and comfort. I believe he calls you `Sailor' because he sees something of his younger self in you."
"Whoa," I reacted. There was so much to absorb from his story. The images of Buck, bent over bare-assed on ship deck before the assembled crew, bucking and jumping as the captain blistered his ass with the paddle, blazed in my mind. Crew mates inspecting his bruised ass later in sympathy. It all stirred emotions and feelings I could not put my finger on.
"Hank," he continued, "should you decide to stay, if you choose this path, you will find yourself a new man."
Suddenly, I had another epiphany. "Then you are Captain."
He adjusted the lamp, bringing both our faces into the light. Kind eyes looked at me from a ruddy face surrounded by a short grey beard.
"Yes, I am Captain."