This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage wherever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional; the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.


Chapter 29

Three weeks later I'm back in LA with Ian, Kenny, and Jason. I'm taking Ian back home to Alejandro, and we have a hearing to determine the bail for one of the two dolts who beat him up. One was Hispanic, and one Caucasian. The hearing is for the Caucasian, one Jerry Smithson, who is twenty-five and, truth-be-told, very cute. He has longish wavy blond hair and a long face. Probably 6 feet tall and slender. He looks mean. The Hispanic guy is not getting out of jail any time soon. This will be his third offense for assault. Smithson, on the other has, has no prior arrests. His lawyer has requested bail, after he's spent three weeks in jail, and Bob Titus, my attorney, tells me that he'll get it in all likelihood. We're there to observe the proceedings -- and something else. Kenny, Jason and I are in the courtroom right on time. I've left Ian with Alejandro, and my god the romantic sparks that fly! Alejandro actually met us at the airport, and ran the 100 yard dash down the corridors of LAX the minute he spotted Ian. Ian wrapped himself around Alejandro, arms around his neck, legs around his middle, kissing him rapturously for probably five minutes. They are both just so happy.

I'd taken Ian to the doctor two days ago to have him evaluated, and Dr. Cohen had told me that he'd mended very well. Thanks to expert setting and bandaging of his ribs by the doctors at the Reagan Center in LA, he was essentially healed. I was nearly beside myself with joy, kissed Ian fondly in the doctor's office, and then took him home and beat him nearly to death. I have not treated him well in the three weeks since his assault. I have been very, very angry with him, and showed it. When his bones are healed, and he's able to lie on his belly, it's time for punishment, and it is punishing. Ian has been waiting for this, both because he's remorseful at the pain he's caused all of us, and because he knows instinctively that this is what it's going to take for me to set this aside, for me to forgive him. Twenty-five really hard strokes of the razor strop, more than I've ever given anyone in my life. He's sobbing, and his ass is seriously bruised and in a couple places oozing a little blood. He is sobbing when I apply the ointment and carry him to the chair, and is still sobbing an hour later when I've finished my lecture and just hug him. "Don't ever do this again, Ian. I fucking expect you to tell Alejandro where you're going, and to obey him if he tells you not to. I don't want you out of the house if he doesn't know where you are. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he whines, choking back tears. He will not sit comfortably for several days.


The bail hearing goes pretty much as Bob Titus said it would, and Smithson's bail is set at $500,000. He has a bail bondsman there, and bail is posted. He walks out of the courtroom smiling to an awaiting car driven by...who? Perhaps a relative. But he's not alone. Kenny is right behind him in a rented Toyota Camry. I don't have much faith in the criminal justice system, I have to confess. After the trial of the drug dealer who killed my Andrew, I am highly skeptical that miscreants get their just desserts. But this one will. We've planned this out carefully, and I'm looking forward to meting out justice myself, at least to the tune of the injustice he meted out to Ian. 45 minutes later, roughly, Kenny calls and gives us an address, and we take off in another rental car. We rendezvous in a section of east LA that really is pretty scary. We wait for a couple of hours, and just as it's starting to get dark, out comes Smithson, dressed decidedly more casually than he was in court this morning. Jason and Kenny both sprint from their respective cars and tackle him, Jason giving him a swift kick to the balls, which takes him down. They handcuff him, slap a length of duct tape over his mouth and eyes, and dump him in the trunk of Kenny's car, and then we're on the move.

Where do you do something like this if you're not at home? It was Gary who gave me the answer. He has a friend who runs a "bath house" in West Hollywood. He agreed to rent us a "space," and it's to this space that we drive. When we get there, we drag Smithson out of the trunk, struggling, and into a room that looks like a bunker -- cinder-block walls that echo inside, but are basically soundproof. There's a platform in the middle of the room with hooks strategically placed, suggesting that it's been used for this same purpose before. We secure Smithson to the platform on his belly, spread eagle, and then cut the clothes off his body. Once he's naked, we leave him for maybe fifteen minutes to wonder, and then return to him.

A tawse is a really nasty device. It's like a razor strop that has been slit in half lengthwise, and therefore has two "tongues." So, for every stroke, you actually get two. Worse, because that lengthwise slit has a gap of about 1/8 inch, you end up with bloody wheals between the two tongues where they come together, viciously pinching -- and in some cases cutting -- the skin between them. It's actually quite a brutal devise, and I've brought one for this occasion. But, before we begin the flogging, I have another surprise. There's a British company that specializes in stainless steel toys that are really beautiful. One of these is something they call a "Ball Flask." It's a hollow cylinder of machined stainless steel with a collar that fits tightly around the scrotum and then screws onto one end of the cylinder. Basically, it encases your balls in two pounds of steel. At the bottom of the cylinder is a screw mechanism, allowing you to compress the balls encased in the flask to whatever extent you want. The more you turn the screw, the more the balls are compressed, allowing you to regulate pain very precisely. It's a really evil concept, and something I've actually used only twice, and so gingerly that I suspect there was very little pain involved. I just couldn't bear to inflict that much pain, that kind of pain, on someone I love. No. When I've used it in the past, it has been more about the fear factor that has caused the tears, the idea that this instrument could basically crush their balls. But, I've never had the...balls...to actually use it. I have no such qualms today.

Pulling Smithson's equipment out from beneath him, between his spread legs, I attach the Ball Flask to his scrotum, and cinch up the screw so it's applying minimal compression to his balls. Then I turn the screw two additional full rotations, and he begins to groan and thrash a little on the platform. Then I motion Jason into place, and he begins swinging the tawse, harder than I would have expected him to. Jason isn't weak by any means, but I've never given him a lot of credit for upper-body strength. He has really muscular thighs and calves, and a "compact" build over all, packing a lot of meat on a fairly petit skeleton. Not to say that he's fat. Not at all. But he's not small, and is a delight to cuddle with for just that reason; his silky skin is so smooth and soft. But as he begins to swing the tawse, I realize just how much upper body power he has, and after only three strokes, Mr. Smithson is screaming through his gag almost non-stop. Jason starts at the upper back and moves methodically down to the calves, leaving wheal after nasty red wheal along the way. When he reaches the ankles, he stops, a little breathless, and passes the tawse to Kenny, who takes it with a really ugly smile. Before he begins, though, I give the Ball Flask screw another two turns, and Smithson shrieks behind the gag, struggling futilely to break free. I smile and nod at Kenny, who begins swinging the tawse with a vengeance, starting from the ankles and moving up the body to the upper back. He has adjusted the angle of the blows, I notice, so that each new wheal crosses one that Jason already made. And where they cross, they begin to bleed.

Finally, it's my turn. I give the Ball Flask screw one more turn, and lay into him with the tawse. He is completely out of voice, so this last set of blows is accomplished in relative quiet, but by the time I'm done, this guy is a mess. I remove the Ball Flask, and we throw a bucket of very dilute salt water over his back to disinfect the wounds and wash away some of the blood. When the salt water hits him, we hear the last of his voice crack as he screams in pain. Finally, we release his wrists, tie them behind his back, release the rest of the restraints, and load him into a fiberglass-reinforced body sock that leaves his head exposed, but encases the rest of his body. He's not getting out of this without some help. Jason and Kenny then drive him to a small plot of wasteland, supposedly a park, near to his house where they dump the body sock and drive off into the darkness, unseen. Not a word have we spoken during this ordeal. No explanation. No voices to identify. And, because his eyes were taped shut -- I can't fucking imagine how he's going to get that tape off without tearing out every eyelash he has -- he hasn't seen us, either. Good luck making a case.

We rendezvous at the airport, returning the rental cars, and fly home at 5:33pm. We are picked up by Vijay, who has no idea that this trip was anything more than to deliver Ian back to Alejandro and attend the bail hearing. "How'd it go?" he asks.

"Uneventful," I reply. "They let him out on a $500K bond, pretty much what my lawyer predicted." Vijay nods, and drives us home, where he treats us to one of the most sumptuous Indian meals we've ever eaten. It's a fitting end to a hard day at the office.


It's now just Jason, Kenny, Vijay, and me, and I've been doing regular duty with Vijay. I don't want this to be a walk in the park. I don't want him as a permanent guest. I don't want to fall in love with him; I'm already in love. But he needs to get better, and I've seen ongoing progress. He's much less uptight about his self-image since I took him for a walk down Ocean Avenue in Santa Cruz in just a Speedo, and since we attended the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco, much as Jason and I did a couple of years before, him naked and collared. He was absolutely mortified, and we had to stop twice so I could paddle him, which, of course, left him even more mortified. After the third public paddling, carried out by a very beefy leather-daddy at a public whipping stall, he got it, and got over himself. "We've all got the same stuff, Vijay. It's not like yours is radically different from anyone else's." He was sobbing at the time, but nodded. He understood. What he needs, I think, is to be spanked twice a week. He may need this for the rest of his life. After I spank him, he mellows out and his behavior becomes much less...erratic. But, as we move through the week, he becomes more...aggressive...more despondent, and it isn't until I spank him again that we get past this behavior. I need to find a dominant yet compassionate guy who can carry on with the regimen I've already established with him. And, I think I know just the guy.

I met Christophe at a party at a neighbor's house. He's very attractive, probably six foot two or so, slender, short sandy hair, bright blue eyes, and the most delicious French accent. He's clearly very strong -- emotionally and physically, very confident. We've played together, although we've never had sex, and our play was not particularly satisfying for either of us, chiefly because we both wanted to dominate. Now we're just close friends. He's been single for several years, a fact that frankly confuses me given his looks and intelligence. His previous partner of several years was Indian, and I know he has a particular fondness for Indian and South Asian men. So, I decided he should come to dinner, and call to invite him. And the next evening he comes.

I juggled the cooking schedule so that Vijay will be cooking the meal. I tell him that I have a very good friend coming for dinner, and that he loves really spicy Indian food, all of which is true. I tell Christophe that I have a good friend staying with me, an Indian guy, who can really cook. It will be a treat for him. The meal is extravagant. Vijay has made Tandoori Chicken, Fish Curry, an Okra stew, Lentils with Cauliflower Gobi Dal, Lamb with Yogurt Roghan Gosht, Channa Masala (always a favorite), Saffron Rice, and Pooris, because he knows I love them. And, of course, Raitha, to cool the palate. The aromas coming from the kitchen when Christophe arrives are just amazing, and it doesn't take him long to begin inching toward the kitchen, which draws a laugh from both Jason and Kenny. The way to a man's heart...

Leading him into the kitchen, I introduce him to a naked Vijay, and I swear that I see a fire in Christophe's eyes almost instantly, and it isn't the food on the stove that he's ogling. Vijay is pretty stunning. Well, "pretty stunning" is an understatement. Vijay is model-gorgeous, and Christophe is smitten, as I thought he might be. Vijay, too, seems taken, especially when Christophe begins speaking to him in Hindi. Christophe spent several years in Bangalore, Vijay's home town, as a software engineer. His Hindi is heavily accented, I've been told by a mutual friend, but quite fluent. They chat for maybe five minutes before Vijay realizes that he's lost track of his cooking, and announces that dinner will be another thirty minutes. This is the nicest way he can think of to ask us to get lost, and we do, adjourning to my office.

"Where did you find that?" he asks, as I offer him a glass of wine.

"New York," I reply, and tell him how we all met, explaining my fears about Vijay at the time, how I'd asked him to join us here, how his ongoing punishment had been really productive, basically everything I know about him. I don't, of course, tell him that tonight's meeting is basically match-making, but I do mention that eventually I hope to find him someone he's compatible with who can carry on with his regular spankings, spankings that seem to calm him.

"I see," Christophe replies. "And do you think that he will be open to a relationship with someone besides you?"

"I do. I've never suggested that his stay here would be permanent. In fact, I've told him that while I really do want to help him, I don't want to fall in love. I'm already in love, devotedly. I think he sees this as `rehab.' At least, I hope that's how he sees it, although he's is very loving toward all of us. I would like Vijay as a good friend, but not as a lover." You can see the wheels turning as Christophe sips his wine.

Before long, there's a knock on the door, and Kenny comes in to tell us that dinner's on the table. When we emerge from the office, the aromas are overwhelming. Jason is bringing out the last of the dishes while Vijay stands to the side, bowing slightly as we come into the room. He looks almost demure. I've already discussed the seating arrangements with Kenny and Jason, ensuring that there'll be an empty seat for Vijay next to Christophe, and in fact Jason, wise soul that he is, has removed the sixth chair from the table, ensuring that the empty chair next to Christophe is the only empty chair. We dish up, begin to eat, and the boys begin to rave almost at once. The meld of flavors is symphonic, and the level of spiciness "nuclear," as Ian once described it. After a couple of minutes, Christophe takes a sip of water and dishes up another helping of Raitha, and Vijay looks suddenly concerned. "Is this too spicy for you?" he asks. "Tim said that you like Indian food very spicy, like he does."

He smiles at Vijay. "This is perfect," he assures him. "I enjoy very spicy food, and this is certainly that. Very nice."

Vijay looks relieved and smiles broadly as Christophe begins a conversation in Hindi, a conversation that goes on for probably fifteen minutes while Jason, Kenny and I chat amongst ourselves in English, Cantonese, and French, which Jason thinks will prevent Christophe and Vijay from understanding us until he remembers that Christophe is a native. Finally, we all come back together in English, all congratulating Vijay on a superb meal, and while Jason and Kenny clear away the dishes, Christophe, Vijay and I move to the living room for coffee, which Jason has graciously supplied.

"So, Tim tells me that this is your first experience as a submissive. How do you like it?"

Vijay smiles. "It was a little difficult at first, a little hard giving up control, but it's been a couple of months now, and I do feel better. I'm less...depressed."

"And why is that?"

Thinks. "I had a lot of regrets about how my life had gone, a lot of regrets about decisions I'd made, decisions that had affected others, especially my parents. I was also still ashamed about being gay, I think. Tim has helped me...correct those feelings, has helped me replace them with more...productive perceptions of myself."

"And how has he done that?"

Long, long pause. I wonder whether Vijay can get this out. I wonder whether he'll be willing to talk about this. "Umm...through a lot of counseling, and...umm...a lot of spankings." Bravo!

"I see," Christophe says, evenly. "And, how do the spankings help?" He's obviously not going to let this go. It almost sounds like an interview.

But, surprisingly, Vijay is open to this. "I didn't really know for a long time. All I really understood was that they made me feel better, less hopeless. Now, I think back to something Jason said a couple of months ago. They let me redeem myself for stuff I've done in the past that makes me feel really bad about myself, stuff that has nothing to do what Tim thinks he's punishing me for. They let me pay for my sins."

Christophe smiles at him. "And do you really think that Tim does not know why he is punishing you?"

There's a long pause while he parses this question, running it over in his mind. Finally he looks at Christophe, and then at me, and then back to Christophe, and there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there two minutes ago. He's had an epiphany. He smiles. "Actually, I think he probably doesn't know the specifics. I think what he knows is there's...baggage...that needs to be...discarded, stuff that I don't know how to let go of. This is a way of letting go of it."

Christophe reaches over and caresses Vijay's face. "You are very wise," he says, and Vijay smiles.

"And how does being naked in the house make you feel, while we are clothed? How does being shaved make you feel?"

Vijay giggles. "At first it made me feel very self-conscious, and very vulnerable. It made me feel like property, subject to the whims of someone else. But that's what submission is. It took a lot of lessons to get over these feelings. Now, I don't really notice it. And, I guess that's been part of this...journey. I think I was way too fixated on myself, way too self-absorbed. I find enforced nakedness to be sort of liberating now. If I were making decisions for myself, I wouldn't be naked. But, I'm not making decisions for myself, and I find that...comforting."

Christophe has been rapt through this discussion, and is smiling now. "May I kiss you?"

Vijay instinctively looks at me, and I nod. He looks back and smiles. "Please..."

Christophe reaches behind him, drawing him into a sensual kiss. There are sparks here. This might just work. By the end of the kiss, Vijay is erect and embarrassed, looking sheepish. "Do not be embarrassed, little one," Christophe says, smiling at him. "This is the reaction anyone would hope for. I am flattered." He strokes Vijay's cheek again, and Vijay beams. "Besides, it is a very respectable cock," he says, glancing at it.

Christophe leaves us at 11:30pm, but becomes a regular visitor, to the tune of two or three times a week. He becomes something out of Tennessee Williams, a regular "gentleman caller" for our Blanche Du Bois (or is it Laura Wingfield?) Though Vijay is not quite as dysfunctional as Blanche or Laura, he does "depend on the kindness of strangers." After about three and a half months of this courtship, Christophe calls and asks to meet with me, and we have lunch at a very good Ethiopian restaurant around the corner from my place. After ordering, and being served, Christophe breaks the ice.

"So, Tim," he says to me in French, hoping, I think, to keep the conversation private, "you hoped, I think, that we would fall in love, oui?"

"Oui. Have you?"

"Oui. Has he?"

"He is besotted, I think, but he can't figure out how to break it to me. And, he loves the boys. He doesn't want to lose them, or me, but hasn't figured out that we'll still love him, even if he doesn't live with us. And, of course, he hasn't gotten an invitation from you. He'll never be the dominant in this relationship, and that's not what you want anyway, right? It's your move."

"Yes, I know, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with this...that you would not be...pissed."

"You wanted my blessing, n'est-ce pas? I love Vijay, but not in that way, not the way I love Kenny or Jason, and he knows it. This was never intended to be permanent. I want a good friend out of this, but not a lover. I'm already more in love than I can stand," I giggle.

"So you will not mind if I ask him...err...to join me?"

"No. Not at all. You were my first choice for someone for him to...fall in love with. Because I trust you. He's going to need a lot of care, Christophe, a lot of shaping. And, you've got to help him figure out what he wants to be when he grows up. He has a fucking PhD in comp sci, but hates comp sci. You've got to drive him to find himself. I think it's something in the arts, but I haven't had enough time to diagnose that yet. I chose you because I trust you, Christophe, but you have to be gentle yet firm with him because he's very fragile."

Christophe nods. "Yes. I sensed both vulnerability and fear, like he was closing himself off. So, how do we proceed?"

"Let me talk to him tonight. I think I need to set him free before you're going to have any success at wooing him."

Christophe nods, and soon leaves, returning to work, leaving me to return to mine. I've been working lately on a new game, actually a new concept. It's intended for the Wii box from Nintendo, a platform I've never worked with before. Kenny has been helping me with the interface because he's so much better at it than I am, but this game still has me perplexed, not so much from a conceptual point of view as from the perspective of the platform itself. I've never written anything this interactive, and am learning as I go. After four hours of concentrated work, I've entirely lost track of time, and it's not until Vijay knocks on my office door that I come back to myself, realizing that it's now 4:15pm. I'm overdue for his spanking. "Come in," I shout, and he pops his head in. I smile at him. "Sorry, Vijay, I sort of lost it here. Meet me in the bedroom. I'll be right with you."

He smiles, and closes the door. I save my work, and hurry out of the office and down the hall. He's already on the bed, on his belly, waiting for me.

Vijay is so beautiful, and laid out like this, a long expanse of flawless bronze, he is just irresistible. Carrying the razor strop, I move to him and run my hand down the contour of his back, up and over the ass, and down his right leg. The softness of the skin is utterly erotic, and I'm instantly hard, and so is he, I notice. Just so beautiful. I admire him for another couple of seconds, and then let fly with the first five blows, which give his ass a pinkish glow. After ten, he's darkened up a bit more, and at thirteen he's just barely crimson -- and sobbing. I honestly don't think this has really hurt him much. His spankings have been pretty tame for the most part. I think what the spanking provides is a psychological excuse to cry. As with most guys, crying has basically been forbidden him. Kenny is like this, too. Neither of them can cry spontaneously, just because they feel bad. Jason can, but he strikes me as remarkable in this. Kenny and Vijay need an excuse, a provocation, something they can point to as the cause of their tears in order to avoid humiliation. Thirteen fairly light-weight strokes of the razor strop are all it takes for Vijay.

Putting the strop away, I lift Vijay off the bed and carry him in my arms to the chair in the corner where I set him on my lap and let him cry, draped over my shoulder. After about 15 minutes, he begins to calm down, but still holds me tenaciously. After 25 minutes, he's calm, but still in my lap, still attached to me. "You okay, Vijay?" I whisper.

"Yeah," he whispers back. And then he starts to cry again, inexplicably.

"What's wrong, baby?"

He moves back, looking me in the face.

"I...umm...I have a problem."

"Okay. What's the problem?"

He continues to cry softly. "I'm...sort of...umm...I think I'm...sort of...umm...in..."

"...in love?" I ask.

He drapes himself over my shoulder, and sobs. "Yeah," he whines.

"I know," I say, hugging him tight, and after a few minutes he pushes himself upright, looking me in the face, still crying.

"You know?"

I nod and smile. "I've known for a while." He drapes himself back over my shoulder and stays there for probably another ten minutes as he gets control of himself. Finally, he whispers in my ear, "I thought you'd...umm...be mad."

"But I'm not, Vijay. That was always the idea, wasn't it -- to find you someone you're compatible with, someone you can love who will love you as you need to be loved? Christophe could be that guy. I assume he's the one you're in love with, right?"

"Yeah," he whispers.

"So, here's something you may not know. He's in love with you, too."

Again, he looks into my eyes. "I sort of hoped he would be, but...umm...how do you know?"

"Because he told me." Vijay smiles broadly, and hugs me suddenly, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

"I thought he might be," he says, "because of all the time he's spent with us. I mean, he seems very fond of Jason and Kenny, too, but I sort of thought he might be coming over mostly to...umm...see me."

"Umm...I'd say." I laugh, and he giggles.

We pause for many seconds, Vijay leaning into me. Finally, he asks what I've suspected has been on his mind. "I know he had a relationship with another Indian guy, that he's attracted to Indians. Did he...umm...punish him?"

"Yeah. Their relationship was a lot like ours. His boyfriend had some...issues. I think Christophe helped him a lot."

"Will he...be willing to...umm...help me, do you think?"

"Oh, I think so," I say with a laugh.

"And, is he...kind?"

"Christophe is very sweet. He'll never do anything to hurt you." I pause, and think. "Correction, he'll never do anything to hurt you more than you're willing to be hurt. He's very careful. He lost his previous boyfriend because he caught him cheating on him. Christophe was initially distraught, and then angry. He felt he could no longer trust himself to punish the boy `appropriately,' could no longer trust himself not to be brutal, and the thought of hurting him scared him to death. That, I think, is what broke them up, more than the cheating. It was the fear that, succumbing to his anger, he might go too far, and so he stopped punishing his boyfriend, which his boyfriend took as rejection. They tried to work through the issues, but ultimately it was more than either of them could handle, and they broke up. That was maybe five years ago, and he's been alone -- and rather lonely -- ever since."

"That's sad," he says, thoughtfully.

I'm wondering what's on his mind. "Is something worrying you, Vijay?"

"Not really worrying. I've just... I've come to sort of depend on...umm...being spanked regularly to manage my moods. And, I'm...umm...wondering..."

I give him a hug, and smile. "Do you want to try him out?"

He giggles, turning three shades of red. "Umm...could I?"

"Why not? It's a reasonable request, I think. I'll give him a call and see if I can line him up for your next spanking. And, if that goes well, you might want to audition him in other ways as well, maybe after the spanking the three of us can cuddle, and do whatever else you'd like to do?" I give him a wink, and if anything, he flushes even more, his dick plumping up considerably.

"Umm...okay...if you're both willing."

"Oh, I think so," I say laughing.

"In the meantime, Tim, could you...umm...fuck me now?"

"Oh, I think so," I say with a giggle.

I take him back to the bed, roll on a condom, and fuck him with abandon for the next hour and a half, until he's cum a total of three times, twice without touching himself. I think what I'll miss most about Vijay is kissing him. He has really kissable lips, and totally loses himself when we kiss, utterly oblivious to anything but me. It's especially nice after he's been spanked because he's so vulnerable at that moment and so sensitive. It's as though I'm forgiving him for the sins I've just spanked him for, whatever they are. It's as though he's longed for the kiss, and just melts into it when it comes. He's not quite as good a kisser as Jason or Kenny, but he's very good.

When we finally leave the bedroom, Vijay heads off to the kitchen to help Jason with dinner, and I head to my office to call Christophe.

"So, did you talk to him? Christophe asks, nervously.

"Yup," I say, and pause.

"And," he prompts, clearly impatient, clearly worried.

"And...he confessed that he's in love with you, and was very happy when I told him that you were in love with him as well. I hope it was okay to tell him that."

The relief in his voice is palpable. "Of course. He said that? That he's in love...with me?"

"Yup. He said that. And it was hard for him to say because he thought I'd be mad at him, so I think it's serious. But, here's the deal, Christophe. You know I spank him, but you may not know that I spank him twice a week, every week. It calms him, gets rid of a lot of demons all at once. He's come to depend on these spankings for his emotional stability. He was concerned that the punishment might...change...that he might not get what he needs from you. I told him about your history, your relationship with Rajan, but he was still a little concerned. He asked me if I could arrange for you to spank him next time -- three days from now, on Friday. Are you game?"

There's a long pause, during which I hear sniffling. Is he fighting tears? Finally, after several seconds, "Of course," he replies, huskily. "I'll be happy to."

"And, after the spanking, I thought the three of us might make love, sort of a transition. If everything goes well, I think you should `propose' there and then. He's going to need some reassurance that you really want him. His ego is still pretty fragile."

"Yes," he says. "I will be happy to reassure him."

We agree that he'll come to us on Friday at 4pm, and we end our call. "Thank you so much, mon ami. I am so hopeful. I have not felt this way in some time." I smile, and hang up. He really is very sweet.


Christophe arrives promptly at 4pm on Friday, thankfully, because Vijay has been a wreck for the last two days, anticipating this moment. When the doorbell rings, he runs to the door, throwing it open before checking the peep-hole to see who's out there. Good that it's Christophe and not the postman, because the sight of naked Vijay might cause the postman moderate surprise. Christophe is all smiles as he comes inside and gets a big hug from Vijay, who then drags him to my office, knocking on the door as he enters. He's very excited. I look at my watch, and give him a mock yawn, looking as bored as I possibly can, and he cuffs me playfully, drawing laughter from Christophe and a giggle from me. Finally, I get up out of my chair, slap Vijay on the ass, and tell him to settle down, and he does, instantly, as we walk to the bedroom. Once inside, Christophe sits Vijay down at the foot of the bed, and sits beside him. I sit off in the corner. I'm an observer, here, not a participant.

"How does Tim spank you, little one?"

"Usually with a razor strop until I'm crying really hard, and then we sit in the corner while I...umm...recover. We hug. A lot. How long we sit there varies, but I think I'm the one who controls how long."

"Okay. We may vary that somewhat at a later time. I usually prefer a leather paddle to a razor strop, but let us start with the strop. May I borrow it, Tim?"

I smile, and cross the room, pulling the strop from the cupboard and handing it to Christophe. During the time it takes me to fetch it, Christophe has begun to strip. "I do not know whether Tim is naked when he spanks you, but I like to be, both because it can be hot work," he says, giggling, "and because, when we sit together after the spanking, I will want to feel your skin against mine. I always conclude my spankings with the boy I have just spanked on my lap as well, and I will want to enjoy your touch as we sit together." Vijay smiles meekly, nodding, now fully erect.

Christophe has an impressive body from years of regular workouts. He is very well defined without being muscle-bound, and is very lean. At 6'2", he's an imposing figure. He's also very well hung, with a dick like mine made for fucking ass, longish, but rather slender. Placing a pillow in the middle of the bed, he motions Vijay into place, his ass slightly elevated, making it a good target. "I do not have Tim's experience with you, little one, so I am going to start out slow, giving you fairly light strokes. It will be up to you to help me determine how hard to spank you. If the strokes are too soft, say `harder,' and if they are too intense, say `softer.' Yes? We will only go through this ritual this once. After this, I will control the intensity of the blows based on what I learn today and what I believe you need. But this time, I need a `reference point.' Ça va?"

"Yes," Vijay replies. "I understand."

Christophe moves back a little, preparing for the first stoke but stops himself, the strop in mid-air, having looked, I think, at the beautiful body before him for the first time. He moves back to the bed, tracing the contour of Vijay's body with his hand, stroking his back, his butt, his inner thighs. He squeezes his ass cheeks, and his calves, and looks at me. I nod. I know exactly what he's thinking, if for no other reason than that his dick is now at full attention. "I am sorry, little one, but you are just so beautiful. I had to stop and admire this work of art," a statement that has Vijay squirming -- with obvious pleasure. Finally Christophe moves back into position, raises the strop, and applies the first stroke -- very lightly.

"Harder, please," says Vijay. The second stroke is a little harder, but again Vijay says he wants it harder. The third stroke is more like what I've been giving him, but again he makes the same request. The fourth stroke is harder than most of mine, and Vijay is silent. Christophe has his reverence point, and continues to spank the boy pretty thoroughly, having increased his speed as well. I wonder how long Vijay is going to last at this rate, and am surprised when we reach fifteen, and then sixteen, and then Vijay is sobbing inconsolably, incoherently, his ass crimson but without a bruise anywhere. Christophe has done this very well, ensuring that the strokes are spread broadly across Vijay's ass, causing him pain, but no damage of any kind. Handing me the strop, he lifts Vijay in his arms and carries him to the chair that I've just vacated, placing him carefully on his lap and hugging him tightly.

"Shhhh, mon petit," he whispers, as Vijay draped himself over his shoulder. "You did very, very well. I am so proud of you. I hope I did not take you beyond your limits this first time." Vijay shakes his head, still choked with tears. Christophe looks over at me, concerned by the intensity of Vijay's sobs, but I shake my head. "Toujours comme ça," I say, softly. Always like this.

Christophe continues to hold Vijay, to kiss his neck and hair, to stroke his back for what must be close to an hour, even though the crying has abated. Vijay just does not want to get off his lap. Finally, he sits up. Christophe kisses his moist eye lids, then his lips, and strokes his cheek. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes," Vijay responds. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for that. I feel better now."

"Good. I'm glad I could help. And, is there anything else you'd like me to do while I'm here?" He smiles, coyly.

Vijay looks over at me, and I nod. Looking back to Christophe, his voice husky and his dick fully erect, he says "I think I'd like you to fuck me now. In fact, I think I'd like you both to fuck me. Could we...umm...do a three-way?"

"That is fine with me if it is fine with Tim," Christophe responds, looking my way. I nod, strip quickly, and we make love for the next hour or so, after which I leave the room, heading for the shower, leaving Christophe and Vijay to their own devices. I have not seen more chemistry between two people in some time, more passion. They are clearly very much in love.

After perhaps another hour, they emerge from the bedroom, and Vijay runs to the living room where Jason, Kenny and I are chatting. He throws himself into my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck. His smile is radiant, although the water-works have started. Moving back, he looks into my eyes, still smiling. "Christophe has asked me to move in with him. Actually, he asked me to marry him, but of course we can't do that here anymore. He told me he loves me. He read me a poem he wrote, and asked me to marry him. He wants to be with me. He's crying now, still grinning, babbling nearly incoherently. "He loves me, Tim. He loves me."

"What's not to love, Vijay?" I ask, grinning. "He loves you. Why is that such a surprise."

"I guess I didn't expect...to be...loved."

"Oh, baby," I say, hugging him, "you are such an idiot."

He laughs, looks me in the eye again, and kisses me fondly. Then he runs to hug Jason and Kenny, who are almost beside themselves they're so happy for him. Then he runs to Christophe, hugging him, his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist, and then he's back on my lap, hugging me. Finally, with a hearty laugh, I pick him off my lap, set him on the couch, and hold him in place. "Sit," I command, something you'd say to an overexcited puppy who is running in circles around your legs. And, finally, he calms down, but never loses that ear-to-ear grin of his.

It's 7pm now, and no one has made dinner. It was Vijay's night to cook, but I should have known that wasn't going to happen and made arrangements for either Kenny or Jason to cover for him. I didn't. So, we all get dressed, and head out to Aquí in Willow Glen for gourmet Mexican, a delicious end to what has certainly been a delicious day. When dinner is done, we return home, and Christophe prepares to leave, forlorn. I look at Vijay, and he looks at me, and then at Christophe, and then back to me. I shrug, and the Vulcan Mind Meld kicks in. He runs to Christophe. "Please take me with you."

Christophe is elated, and hugs him. Vijay then runs to Kenny, Jason and me, hugging us tightly and kissing us fondly. "I'll come back tomorrow," he says, "to collect my clothes and," looking at Christophe for approval, "to make arrangements for a celebration dinner at Christophe's some time next week?"

"Absolutely," Christophe replies, and then they're gone.


Kenny and Jason are a little forlorn tonight, sad to see Vijay go, and as we sit in the living room, sipping our tea, Kenny is first to express the collective sadness.

"I really like Vijay," he avers. "He's so sweet. A little confused, but ultimately really nice to be around. And, my god can he cook! I'll miss him."

"No," I reply, "I don't think you will. We'll see him often. I've never seen Christophe so happy, or Vijay, for that matter. Vijay loves you both, and I don't think he'll miss an opportunity to get together with us. And Christophe owes me, and knows it. No. We'll see Vijay regularly. And, yes, he is one very good cook...like both of you," I add.

We decide to make an early night of it. We're none of us particularly tired, but I so relish the opportunity to cuddle with just the two of them that I can't wait. It has been so long. Once we're in bed, I can't figure out which way to turn, toward Jason, or toward Kenny. Finally, Kenny and I lay side-by-side on our backs pressed tightly together, and Jason lies on top of us, right down the middle. We can all hug this way, and Jason, the lightest of us all, isn't a burden. We fall asleep quickly, waking up the next morning to some of the best sex of my life. I love these boys so much. I don't know what I'd do without them, and I don't know how I've shared them for so long.

Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/