YOUNG, HUNG, AND FULL `O CUM Ostrich78@hotmail.com
Warning: the following story will contain extensive homoerotic material including domination, SM, watersports, and CBT of an older male by a younger male. If you are not of a legal age to read this, or such material might offend or not be of interest to you, then do not proceed.
The author resides in San Diego and is always interested in meeting young men who might wish to cross from fantasy into reality in either a dom or sub role. Please contact me by e mail: ostrich78@hotmail.com
Part 3: YOUNG, HUNG, AND FULL O' CUM.
Please read Part2 1-3 prior to this in order to understand the story line.
We began to fall into somewhat of a routine. Out in public, Zack remained the clean cut all American kid: good student; polite; considerate; and often seeking my advice on matters. It was a good partnership. Zack decided over time that he did not want to go to medical school; instead opting for the potential for big money in Silicon Valley via a computer science/business degree. I was happy with the relationship, and increasingly in love with him.
Inside the house, Zack was growing into his own as a master. He chatted on master's web sites; read; and was just very creative. We were moving from his being a tentative boy master to his being a confident and strong young master. With this came some changes in us both: Zack expected me to be much more subservient in the house; and I grew accustomed to and remained aroused during increasingly hard punishments.
About two months after Zack moved in with me, the gradual and subtle evolution of the relationship passed a milestone. It happened on a Friday afternoon, after we both got home. He had just finished exams and was not in good humor; I had exams to grade and was in similarly poor humor. This proved a bad combination, at least for me.
"BOY!" I heard Zack holler for the third time this hour. I had been trying to grade these fucking exams, and every time I sat down to do one he would call with some command or other. I had work to do and was growing increasingly irritated.
"WHAT?" I hollered back, my irritation showing in my tone and my failure to run down the stairs at his call.
He did not reply, so I continued to do my exams. After a few minutes, I became aware of another person in the room. I looked up and it was Zack. He had an angry look on his face, and a razor strop in his hand.
"Sir?" I questioned, trying to appear innocent.
"Get up and strip boy" was the command.
I had my clothes off in a minute and was standing in front of Zack, who was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. He was slapping the razor strap against his hand in a menacing manner as he began his diatribe:
"I've had enough of your bull shit boy. You think you can decide when to be respectful and when not to; when to instantly obey; and when to ignore. You continue to think that because you are a professor and I am a student that this is some kind of a game and that you can assert control".
As he launched into this, the Razor strap was increasingly slapping his palm to punctuate points he was making. His dick was also tenting his boxers, revealing that he was aroused at this show of dominance over me.
"Its spring break: we have two weeks off. I am going to spend them training you to really be my slave: to respect unconditionally; to obey instantly; to accept punishment without protest. Now stand up straight boy...that's right now fold your hands behind your head...spread those legs a bit. Now, hold position".
Then I got my first razor strap whipping. In my heart I knew I deserved it: I was subtly trying to assert authority over Zack; I was pushing the limits; I had been disrespectful. However, even when you know you deserve it, the feeling in your stomach and ass are the same as you go through the age old ritual of "wait `til your dad comes home" followed by his order to "strip" followed by the feel of the first blow.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK..." I yelled as an absolutely full force blow landed across both buttocks from the heavy razor strop.
"HOLD POSITION PIG" I heard him say, only then aware that I had dropped my hands.
I got my hands back up and felt another heavy deep blow slam down on my buttocks and shake my whole body...
"AAAAAGH...PLEASE...".
Zack took no heed at all: I remember once or twice looking to the side to see a determined look on his face, and a throbbing erection against his stomach as he slammed the razor strap into me again and again.
"AAAAAGH...OOOOOOW...snifffle...pleeeeeeeeeease" I began whining.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOW...I'm Soooooory...Pleeease... I proooomisssse"
This progressed to the point where I was simply whimpering each time the strap hit my backside. However, it just went on: 50 FULL FORCE BLOWS to my ass.
It must have been over for a few minutes before I realized it. At any rate, the strap was on the bed, and Zack was standing in front of me. His cock was no longer hard. He pointed down, and I got on my knees to service him.
I wrapped my mouth around his giant but soft dick, and was beginning to stimulate him to get an erection when he spoke:
"Don't spill a drop boy"...
I was horrified...he was actually going to do it. My eyes grew big and I looked up at him. He was pulling a bit at his cock and breathing deeply, like men do at the urinal to start their stream. Then it hit: a huge jet of warm urine filled my mouth. I gagged; did my best to swallow it; but was retching and had some of it coming out of my nose. When he finished, he made me hold my mouth open while he shook off the last few drops from his hose. He looked around and said "Spilled some boy, clean it up".
I cleaned up the urine and then went downstairs where Zack was drinking beer and watching TV.
He looked up at me with what could only be described as arrogant adolescent contempt, and said "Make me dinner boy: Steak; baked potato; Caesars Salad. And another cold beer" he commanded.
"Yes Sir" I said, not wanting a repeat of that fucking razor strap which had left my ass a bit swollen and discolored as well as red hot. I quickly brought him a beer, then put the potatoes in the microwave and began the salad. I wanted to move quickly so that he would not have an excuse to punish me.
After I served him dinner and two more beers, Zack announced that it was time to go to "the dungeon". I followed him downstairs, knowing that this would likely lead to harder training than I had received previously. At the bottom of the stairs he said:
"Damn, gotta pee again...but I don't want to go upstairs to the bathroom...What will I do...OH I KNOW...Boy, get over here".
I got my second dose of recycled beer of the evening, this time getting it all down.
Zack then led me over to the St. Andrews cross and fastened me facing it and secured so that I could only wiggle a bit. Next, he took out a flogger. I was quite frightened, having never been flogged before. As I looked at the device, I realized that at least it was a moderate flogger: relatively soft strands. I thought to myself "this won't be so bad".
When the first blow landed across my back it surprised me: maybe this thing was made of soft leather, but hitting me there really hurt. Just as this was registering, a second blow made a hissing noise past my ear, then made searing contact with my back.
"AAAAGH...ZAAACK...PLEEEASE...".
The whipping stopped right then. Zack came over and grasped my face and jaw and looked into my eyes:
"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME BOY?" he screamed... "YOU WILL CALL ME SIR...I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR PUSHING THE LIMITS".
He then stepped back with the flogger and ripped a full force blow onto my lower ass and upper thighs..
"AAAIIIIEEEEEEGH" I screamed.
He then gave me nine more hard blows all over the back and ass: with each one he would spell out "SIR" punctuating each letter with a blow. I got the message.
SIR then released me from the St Andrews cross and brought me over to the spanking bench and bent me over it.
"OH CHRIST...NOT MORE" I thought.
However, instead of a whipping I felt my boy master's dick pressing against my hole. I pressed back and felt him slip inside me. He then fucked me hard for the next hour.
TO BE CONTINUED.