Date: Wed, 8 Feb 2012 10:42:19 -0500
From: EJ Allen <ejayallen@hotmail.com>
Subject: Pillory Punishment by EJ Allen

       Kurt was sick of having such a fucking slob for a
roommate. Everywhere he turned, there was chaos. Dirty dishes in the
sink. Stinky, smelly socks on the living room floor. If Kurt didn't do the
vacuuming himself, it would never get done. And he didn't even want to
think about that nasty bathroom. Sure, Kurt had his own private bathroom in
his master bedroom, but the main bathroom that his roommate used was always
a pig sty.
       It was particularly frustrating because Greg was for the most part a
really nice guy. And cute.  Greg was beyond cute, really. He was
adorable. In fact, it was probably for this reason alone that Kurt had let
his guard down and taken the kid on as a roommate. Sure, he was motivated
in part by the financial benefit. Greg paid monthly rent and had to
contribute money for groceries and utilities, and Greg was pretty reliable
in that sense. There'd been a couple times when he was late a day or two on
the rent due to the way his paydays happened to fall. But the thing that
had swayed Kurt toward his final decision to take Greg in as a boarder was
that sweet, innocent smile of his. He had wavy blond hair and piercing blue
eyes, not to mention a tight little swimmer's build that he liked to show
off.
       "Dude, listen. I gotta talk to you about something," Kurt said. He
was standing in the doorway of Greg's bedroom, scanning the mess, his mouth
falling open in shocked disbelief. The room looked as if a cyclone had hit.
       "Sure man," Greg said. He was sitting on his bed, wearing only
underwear and holding a video game controller in his hand. He didn't look
up to meet Kurt's gaze because that would have required he tear his eyes
away from the TV screen, which of course was not gonna happen in the middle
of a game.
       Kurt cleared his throat, waiting impatiently.
       Greg hit the pause button and placed the controller on the bed
beside him. "Sorry man," he said. A lock of his blond hair swept down over
his eye, and he tossed his head back just slightly to clear his field of
vision. "What's up?"
       "My parents are stopping by tomorrow, and I need the house cleaned."
       Greg smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure man, no problem. I'll
tidy up a bit."
       "A bit?" Kurt said. He looked around the room, disgusted by the
stacks of dirty dishes and silverware. Cereal bowls, glasses, plates with
leftover spaghetti sauce and macaroni and cheese. "Dude, this room should
be condemned. Look at all these nasty dishes that've been in here for God
knows how long. And the clothes... I mean, come on. Do you ever do laundry?
And it stinks!"
       Greg chuckled, unfazed. "I know... I been meaning to clean this
up. I promise I'll get to it later today-or tomorrow morning."
       "Today!" Kurt demanded. "And the bathroom too."
       Greg made a face. "But I'm in the middle of a competition..."
       "Today!" Kurt repeated. "There's no way you'll have time tomorrow
morning. Look, I have to work a twelve hour shift at the hospital
tonight. I won't be here to babysit you, but when I come home in the
morning, this place better be clean. I'll only have about three hours to
sleep and get myself cleaned up in the before my folks get here."
       "Okay, man... I'll get right on it."
       "Good. I'm headed out then. I got the living room and kitchen
already taken care of. Just don't mess em up, and concentrate on getting
your room and bathroom done."
       Again, Greg nodded. "Got it, dude. Not a problem... you can count on
me." And then he smiled.  That smile of his was so innocent and so
charming, that Kurt was completely disarmed.
       "All right. Bye."
       ****
       As soon as Greg heard the front door close, he got up and stumbled
to the living room. He picked up the remote control for the stereo and
cranked it to high, then made his way to the kitchen. He pulled out a half
gallon container of orange juice from the fridge, tipped it up to his mouth
and took a huge swig directly from the carton.
       Man, that Kurt was a pain sometimes. Nice enough guy, but he was so
fucking anal about everything. Yeah, well whatever. He'd have plenty of
time later to get the cleaning bullshit done. For now, though, he had the
place all to himself.
       He stepped over to the counter where his phone was plugged
in. Picking it up, he called his friend Tyler. "Dude, what's up? Hey, wanna
come over?"
       Within a half hour the house was swarming with college aged kids,
all ready to party. And party they did. Someone brought a keg, and later
they got pizza. By eleven o'clock that night everyone was trashed, and the
keg was nearly empty. This didn't stop them, though. One of the guys
volunteered to get more beer and they decided to start a game of quarter
bounce.
       By three in the morning, Greg and Ty were curled up together on
Greg's single bed. Ty had just finished sucking him off, and Greg was
pretty wasted. "Dude, that was awesome," he whispered.
       "You're the one who's awesome," Ty said, slurring his words.
       "Hey man, we gotta get up early and clean this place up before my
roommate gets home. He's gonna kill me."
       "Sure, man," Ty said, yawning. "No problem."
       Greg pulled the co-ed into his arms, squeezing him tightly against
his chest. "Cool," he said, and that was the last he remembered before
dozing off to sleep.
       ****
       Kurt loved his job, but the twelve hour shifts were ridiculous. It
made absolutely no sense that the industry responsible for providing health
care services to the general population cared so little about the health of
its own employees. In almost every other line of work, hourly wage
employees were not expected to work more than eight hours per day, and on
the rare occasions they had to, they were heavily compensated. Kurt was an
RN, and was very proud of the fact that he'd gotten his degree and landed a
position at the county's biggest hospital. But there were days-like
today-he questioned his choices.
       Third shift was actually his favorite to work. There were fewer
doctors around, and most of the patients were asleep. Of course he still
seemed to run his ass off, and he seldom took a sit-down break.  He worked
from 8pm til 8am the next morning. He was relieved to have had the chat
with his roommate Greg, because he was in no mood to face a mess at
home. He was tired and wanted to take a quick shower and get at least three
hours sleep before his parents arrived around noon.
       Kurt's mom had always been a homemaker. His father had owned a
hardware store all of Kurt's life. He ended up selling it when Kurt was in
high school after a huge retail chain moved into the area.  Those
mega-stores were bad news for the small business owners. There was just no
way that his dad could compete, so he sold the business and went to work
for the mega store as a "consultant". He provided customers expert advice
on their home repair products and didn't have the stress of managing his
own business. He was now in his sixties, but Kurt wondered if his dad would
ever retire. Yeah, he'd defected to the enemy but it was like the ole
saying, "If you can't beat em, join em."
       The parents only came for a visit every few months, and Kurt wanted
everything to go smoothly.  He knew his mom fretted and worried over him,
so he strove to give the impression that everything was under control. He'd
come out to them a couple years prior, and they didn't take it too
well. They were old school, and Kurt realized that it was best to just
leave things unsaid. His mom and dad didn't ask personal questions, and he
didn't volunteer anything.
       It was kind of obvious that his mom really hoped all that talk of
homosexuality was merely a phase.  She always dropped hints about wanting
him to settle down with a nice girl and give her some grandkids.  When Kurt
turned thirty last year, his mom had a conversation with him, warning him
that time was running out. He didn't have the heart to remind her that he
was gay and never would get married. He resigned himself to the reality
that his parents were just never going to accept him for who he was. Their
only way of coping was to shroud themselves in denial.
       Well, it'd be okay. He just had to get through the day. They would
visit for a while at the house and then go out for dinner. By nightfall
they'd be on their way back home and Kurt wouldn't have to worry about them
for at least a couple months.  He heaved a sigh of relief, remembering that
he'd talked to Greg and the house wouldn't be an issue. He pulled into the
driveway, yawning as he did so, and wondered why there was a strange car
parked behind Greg's. Maybe the kid had a friend stay over.  Kurt wondered
if it was a male or female friend-that'd be interesting to find out.
       When he pushed open the front door, the first thing he noticed was
the overpowering stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke that assaulted
his nose. His jaw came unhinged as he scanned the living room in shocked
disbelief. Holy fuck! It looked as if a herd of elephants had stampeded his
home. Empty plastic cups were strewn across the floor. A huge plant was
tipped on its side and potting soil was all over his recently-shampooed
carpet. Pizza boxes and paper plates were everywhere. The sofa cushions
were God-knows-where. In a word, the place was trashed.
       "Greg! You son of a bitch!" he began screaming.
       The living room was in bad shape, but it did not begin to prepare
him for what he was to find in the kitchen.  Pizza slices had been dropped
on the linoleum floor and beer had been spilled on the counter. Half the
contents of the refrigerator were strewn across the countertops, and the
sink was full of dirty dishes.  A couple plates had been used as ashtrays
which explained the stench of cigarettes.
       "God damn it, Greg!" he shouted, storming down the hallway toward
his bedroom. He hurled the bedroom door open, still screaming at the top of
his lungs. "What the fuck is going on?"
       Greg, who was lying in bed with his arms wrapped another naked guy,
jumped up, startled. With his mouth agape, he stared at Kurt for a
moment. "Dude, you're home early."
       Kurt was so pissed he could barely formulate words. "What the hell
went on here last night?  This whole place is trashed!"
       "Oh man, sorry bout that. Had a few friends over, but Josh and me
are gonna clean everything up. We already decided to get up early..."
       "It's already after eight o'clock and my parents will be here in
about three hours!"
       Greg's friend had pulled the covers over his head and rolled over,
apparently uninterested in the argument.  "Chill out, man... I'm getting in
the shower, then I'll get the place tidied up."
       "TIDIED UP?? Greg, this place is utterly fucking trashed. It would
take a bulldozer to tidy it up!  And we have three fucking hours!"
       Greg reached down and grabbed a pair of underwear from the floor,
pulling them on, then stood up and stretched. He stepped over to Kurt and
slapped him on the shoulder. "You need to mellow out, man. You're gonna
give yourself a flippin heart attack. Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up.
       "I'll be back in a minute... gotta piss like a racehorse." And then
he left.
       Kurt stared down at the kid in the bed-Josh, or whatever his name
was-and shook his head disgustedly. He turned and walked out of the room,
slamming the door behind him. He stormed out to the kitchen and began
picking up the mess. For the next hour, he worked non-stop, his blood
pressure at a record-high level.
       He heard activity in the living room, Greg running the vacuum. There
was water running in the bathroom. Apparently the boys had started helping
in the cleaning effort. Kurt was too angry to speak to either of them, and
after another hour, things were finally at least beginning to look
presentable. Kurt got out air freshener and liberally sprayed it throughout
the living room and kitchen. He lit candles, and wiped down all the tables
and countertops with disinfectant.
       At 11:15, he finally headed for his bathroom where he planned to
take a shower. He about hurled when he discovered someone had vomited all
over the toilet and floor. He ran to the hall closet and found an old towel
which he used to wipe it up and then used bathroom cleaner to disinfect. At
last he was ready for his shower.
       It was ten minutes before noon when he was finally cleaned and
dressed. He yawned as he stumbled out toward his kitchen. Greg's door was
closed. He stopped and knocked. He waited a few seconds-no answer. He
peaked inside. The room was still a mess but the guys were gone. He closed
the door. With any luck, his mom wouldn't look in there. He checked the
bathroom. Surprisingly it looked and smelled clean.
       He grabbed a soda from the kitchen and plopped himself in a living
room chair and waited until his parents arrived fifteen minutes later.
       ****
       Greg and Josh laughed as they sped away from the house that
morning. "Dude, you were right.  Your roommate's really fucking anal."
       "Ah... well, he'll get over it. He's just like that. I told him I'd
have the house clean but overslept. I just could not fuckin wake up...and
my head still feels like shit. Like it's about to explode or something."
       "Dude, you should just move out of there. I mean come on, that's
crazy that you let that guy scream at you like that. I'd 've told him to go
fuck himself."
       "Nah," Greg said. "Dude, it's like I kind of deserved it. And ya
know, Kurt's really a nice guy. He hardly charges me anything for living
there and usually he's pretty cool. I'll just kiss his ass for the next few
days and it'll be all right."
       "You got the hots for him or something?" Josh asked. "I mean, he is
kinda cute."
       Greg shrugged. "I'd tap that. But seriously, I'm probably not his
type. He'll probably hook up with a doctor or lawyer or something... not an
art student like me."
       "Never know," Josh said, popping a piece of gum in his mouth. He was
driving and Greg was riding shotgun. He held out the gum packet, offering
some to his passenger.
       Greg shook his head. "Maybe I should make a peace offering or
something."
       "You mean like offer him head or something?"
       "Might be just what he needs... or a good fuck. You think he's top
or bottom?"
       "He'd be a bottom by the time you got done with him," Josh said,
laughing.
       Greg looked out the window, feeling his crotch tightening as he
thought about it. "Hm, I wouldn't care either way. I'm flexible." He smiled
to himself, envisioning Kurt naked.
       "Let's just go to my place," Josh suggested. "You can stay there a
couple days and let your doctor-boy cool off a bit."
       "He's not a doctor. He's a nurse."
       "Whatever. Looked like a doctor to me...and you already said you
wanted to be his patient."
       Greg laughed, "True dat. Okay, you're probably right. I'll just
avoid him til he's calmed down."
       ****
       A few days later, Saturday morning, Kurt got up early. He had the
next three days off and looked forward to his extended weekend. That was
the nice thing about working the twelve hour shifts; it gave him blocks of
time off. He usually worked four days on, three off.
       At 7am, Kurt new that Greg would be in bed for a few more
hours. That gave him plenty of time to get everything ready. He'd spent the
entire week preparing the garage and gathering all the equipment he'd
need. He smiled evilly as he thought about the details of his plan. By the
end of the weekend, his pretty little roommate wouldn't be blowing him off
any longer. Kurt planned to teach him all about the importance of following
the rules and respecting authority.
       After having a cup of coffee and a bagel, Kurt went out to the
garage to double check everything. He scanned the room, rubbing his crotch
as he did so. It sure came in handy having a friend who worked on the
Renaissance Fair. Kurt grinned as he stared at the pillory that had been
placed in the middle of the room. He could picture it all in his mind, how
the kid would look with his smooth bare ass sticking out while his arms and
neck were locked securely in the stocks.
       When he got back inside, he heard water running in the
bathroom. Greg was awake. Kurt's heart beat with anticipation. He'd have to
catch him by surprise. As he stood outside the bathroom door, he reached
into his pocket and removed the pair of handcuffs he'd gotten. A few
seconds later the door opened, and Greg stepped out.
       Kurt jumped into action, shoving the boy hard against the
wall. Startled, he cried out, and Kurt quickly grabbed his arms and pulled
them behind his back. The kid was a lot smaller than him, and it wasn't
difficult to overpower him. Kurt's cock throbbed as the metal clasp of the
handcuff clicked into place.
       "Hey!" Greg protested. His voice was still groggy, having just woken
up. "Dude! Let me go!  What're you doing?"
       "Shut up!" Kurt demanded. He reached into his other pocket and
pulled out a blindfold, wrapping it securely around his prisoner's eyes.
       "Now just a minute!" Greg objected. "Dude, if you wanna get kinky,
hey I'm game... but this shit's kinda scarin me. I'm not ready..."
       "I said shut the fuck up!" Kurt screamed into his ear. "This isn't a
game. Do as you're told, and you won't get hurt."
       Greg started to laugh. "Dude, you're turning me on..."
       Kurt spun the kid around and slapped him across the face. "I said,
SHUT UP!" He reached down and grabbed Greg's nutsac. He was only wearing
boxer briefs. Kurt squeezed them hard and didn't let up until he heard his
prisoner whimper.
       "Owww!"
       Kurt slapped him again, this time a little harder. "I have a gag. If
you don't shut your trap, I'll use it. Greg's body stiffened and he grew
quiet. Maybe he was starting to take this a little more seriously.
"Good. From this point forward, you will speak only when spoken to, and you
will address me as 'sir'.  Got it?"
       "Yes, sir!" Greg said enthusiastically. He was grinning as he did
so. Well, perhaps he didn't quite take it as seriously as Kurt had hoped,
but that'd change soon enough.
       "Now, come with me," Kurt ordered. He grabbed his prisoner by the
arm and led him down the long hallway toward the exit. He opened the garage
door and guided Greg down the steps. The kid walked tentatively, his bare
feet probably realizing the shock of the cold pavement. Kurt led the boy
over to the platform which contained the stocks and told him to step up. He
pushed him up close to the wooden frame and then spread his legs apart,
lining them up with the restraints.
       "Stay!" he ordered. "Don't move a muscle." This was working out to
his advantage. Greg apparently did think this was some kind of sex game and
was being fairly cooperative. Kurt knelt down and attached his prisoner's
ankles with the restraints.
       He then stood up and pushed Greg's upper body forward. He lowered
the boy's head into the stocks, bending him slightly at the waist and
resting his neck against the half-circle opening. Reaching down, he raised
a bar that extended from the middle of the pillory and rested against
Greg's abdomen.  This prevented him from thrusting his pelvis forward and
kept his ass sticking out, completely exposed.
       "Wait!" Greg said. "What is this? What are you doing?"
       "Shut up!" Kurt said. "You gotta trust me..."
       Greg's body was tense for a moment. Even if he decided to fight,
Kurt knew he'd eventually overpower the kid. His legs were already secured
and his arms were cuffed behind his back. If he cooperated, though, things
would go much smoother.
       "Yes, sir," Greg said after a pause. Kurt looked down and saw the
kid's hardon in his boxer briefs.  The domination was apparently turning
him on.
       Quickly Kurt unlocked the handcuffs, grabbing hold of the boy's
wrists and pulling them around his body. He positioned them so that his
arms were in the appropriate slots. Without further warning, he reached up
and pulled down the bar that fit perfectly around his prisoner's neck and
wrists, and he locked it snugly in place.
       Kurt stepped back and examined his handiwork. He smiled and rubbed
his crotch. "Well, how's it feel, slut boy? Comfortable?" When Greg didn't
immediately respond, he slapped his ass. "I asked you a question, boy!"
       "No, sir!" Greg yelped. "To be honest, sir... this is starting to
freak me out."
       Kurt laughed. "You'll get used to it," he said. "You're gonna be
there awhile."
       "Kurt!" Greg protested, "Dude, wait... you're scaring me."
       He again slapped the boy's ass cheeks hard with his palm. "What'd I
say to call me, bitch?"
       "Sir! Sir! Look... I'm sorry. Hey, can you maybe let me out and we
can talk about this... establish a safeword or something. Ya know. I'm into
it, I swear... but not like this." Kurt could see the kid was starting to
panic, pulling hard against his restraints.
       "Greg, this isn't a game. This is your punishment, and there won't
be a safe word. Least not for this part of it... Bottom line is that you're
being disciplined, and I don't give a fuck if you're scared or not.  You're
supposed to be scared."
       "Punishment? For what?"
       "Oh... for being such a slop. For disrespecting me and my rules. For
throwing a big ass party this week and trashing the house when you knew my
folks were coming."
       "Man, I said I was sorry. Please, Kurt! I even helped clean it
up..."
       "Shut the fuck up!" Kurt screamed. "I'm tired of your
excuses. You'll take your punishment like a man or you'll get the fuck out
of my house. Those are the options."
       Greg waiting a few seconds before replying. "Dude, are you saying if
I agree to move out, you'll let me out of this thing?"
       Kurt took a deep breath, thinking about the situation. "Yeah, I'll
give you the choice. If you wanna pack up and get the fuck out today, I'll
release you. But then I never wanna see your sorry face again."
       "But... I don't want to leave...sir."
       "So...?"
       This time Greg sighed. "Okay, okay...I'll take the punishment."
       "Very good," Kurt said, rubbing his hands together. "Wise
decision. Okay, now let me explain how this is gonna work. In front of you
is a table that has several instruments on it. When I take off your
blindfold, you're gonna look them over and pick one. Understand?"
       "Yes, sir," Greg said.
       Kurt stepped up on the platform and slipped off Greg's
blindfold. Blinking a few times, he raised his head to look at the table
which was positioned a few feet in front of him. His eyes grew wide and he
gulped as he took in the sight: a long fraternity paddle with holes in it,
a leather strop, a cattail whip, and a cane.
       "Fuck," he whispered.
       "Huh?" Kurt said. "What'd you say, boy?"
       "I...I...uh...SIR!"
       Kurt grinned as he stared down at his defenseless prisoner. Greg was
a sight for sore eyes, bent over like that with his ass sticking out and
his neck and wrists locked securely in the stocks. The way that his ankles
were restrained prevented him from repositioning himself at all for
comfort.
       "Well, I guess if you don't want to choose the weapon, I'll do it
for you."
       "No!" Greg blurted out. "I'll choose. Um. Well... I guess the
paddle."
       Kurt smiled broadly. "I see. And why, may I ask did you choose that
over, say, the strop?"
       "I don't know!" Greg said. His voice was high pitched, probably from
fear. "I just know I don't want the whip, and I sure as hell don't want the
fuckin cane!"
       "Hm, well we'll have to see if you live to regret your decision."
Kurt stepped off the platform and walked over to the corner. He knew Greg
could still see him. "Because now that we've determined the method of
discipline, we have to decide how much."
       "What do ya mean?" Greg said. "You mean, how many swats?"
       Kurt nodded. "Precisely. I've been giving this whole thing a lot of
thought. Just how much is too much? And how much is not enough?"
       "Ten!" Greg suggested. "Ten swats..."
       Kurt shook his head and laughed. "You are such a funny, funny
boy. You think ten measly swats with a wooden paddle is gonna make up for
all the headache you've put me through since you moved in here? All the
filthy, nasty, rank socks and underwear you've left lying around? All the
trash and junk you manage to spread all over the house? All the disgusting,
putrid stench that wafts out of your bathroom every time I walk by? Hah!
What a fuckin joke! Ten swats!" Kurt burst into laughter.

       Greg's face was now beet red. "What then...sir?"
       Kurt bent over and picked up a laundry basket that was stored in the
corner. Dangling off the rim of the basket was a pair of latex gloves. Kurt
snapped them onto his hands after setting the basket on the table in front
of Greg.
       "I took the liberty of collecting a few things over the past few
days. Now mind you, these are all things I gathered after we cleaned the
house the day my parents were here. Do any of these things look familiar to
you?" The basket contained a pile of what appeared to be dirty clothes.
       "Yeah. Or I mean, yes, Sir. It looks like socks and underwear..."
       Kurt nodded. "Among other things," he clarified. "Let's see what we
have here. He reached in and pulled out a filthy sock. It was an athletic
sock, originally white, but the sole looked almost black. It was no
surprise. Greg's bedroom floor didn't look like it'd ever been vacuumed
since the day he moved in. It was no wonder his socks were so
disgusting. "Of course you left this on the floor in the living room.  How
many swats would you say this is worth?"
       "Uh...I don't know...sir. One?"
       "One, huh? Okay, well let's make a rule. If the article is something
you'd be willing to put in your mouth, I'll give you one swat. If you
refuse to take it in your mouth and suck on it for at least ten seconds,
then it's worth three swats. If you won't even allow it near your nose,
it's worth five."
       "No way!" Greg protested, pulling against the restraints. "That's
not fair!"
       Kurt made a tsking sound with his tongue and shook his head. "Dude,
do you really think you're in a position here where you have much
bargaining power? We can cooperate and do this together, or I'll just count
up all these items, multiply the count by five, and start whakin ya."
       "Come on, man! Please! How about twenty?"
       "Twenty swats," Kurt said. "You think by the time we count up this
laundry we'll have a number less than twenty? You know if you're willing to
suck on some of these socks and underwear, you can really reduce your swat
count."
       "I won't do it!" he cried.
       "Hmm, okay, then let's count em. One, two, three...." Kurt pulled
each item out of the basket and placed it on the table. In total there were
fifteen items. "Okay... so there are fifteen items, and you say you won't
suck any of them for ten seconds?"
       "No!" Greg shouted.
       "All right. So fifteen times five is...seventy-five?"
       "Please, no!" Greg cried.
       "Of course if you're willing to sniff each one of them, then you
could get that number down to forty-five. Three times fifteen is
forty-five, right?"
       "All right! I'll sniff them... but I'm not sucking on any rank
socks!"
       "Or underwear? I see some of these have skid marks in em."
       "No way!"
       Kurt laughed. "I'll tell ya what. I'll let you sniff each one of
them. If there are any you're willing to suck on after sniffing them, you
can reduce your swats. Let's do these in increments of five. We'll go
through the first five items and then I'll deliver your swats, and maybe
that will help you decide how you want to continue."
       "Sir... can't you just swat me twenty times and let me blow you?
Can't we work out a bargain like that?"
       "Now that you mention it," Kurt said. "A blowjob would be
nice... but we'll talk about that after the punishment." He picked up one
of the filthy socks and stepped up to the platform. He held it under Greg's
nose, who quickly made a face and closed his eyes. "Sniff it," Kurt
ordered. "Take a nice big wiff!"  He shoved it closer to the kid's face,
grinding it into his nostrils.
       "Oh God!" he screamed. "That shit's nasty!"
       "Oh but I know. I know exactly how nasty it is.. because you leave
it lying around my house every fuckin day! So you tell me, mouth or extra
swats?"
       "Swats!" he cried.
       "Okay... so that's three. Let's move on." He picked up the next
item, a pair of underwear. "Found these in the bathroom," Kurt said. "Good
God, just how long do you wear a pair of undies anyway. These are
disgusting!" He shoved them in Greg's face.
       "Yuck!" he screamed and started to wretch.
       Kurt laughed. "Should I go get a bucket?" he asked. "Gonna toss your
cookies?"
       "Swats!" Greg screamed. "I'll take the swats! Just get em the fuck
away from me!"
       Kurt tossed them back in the basket. "Okay... so we're up to six."
He went through the next three items, and got exactly the same result each
time. "Hmm, so we start with fifteen," Kurt surmised.  He stepped over to
the table and picked up the paddle. "Oh wait! We can't have this... you
still have your panties on!"
       Kurt stepped over to the bench against the wall and pulled out a
drawer. "This ought a do the trick," he said, holding up what looked to be
a large hunting knife.
       "Wait! What're you doing with that thing?" Greg asked.
       Kurt moved closer to him, holding the knife up. "Don't worry. I
won't hurt you...unless you don't hold still and I accidentally slip." He
placed the paddle down on the platform and grabbed hold of the leg of
Greg's underwear. He slid the knife in, the blade pressed flat against
Greg's smooth ass cheek. He could see Greg tense us, and he smiled, holding
the knife in place a few seconds longer than he needed.  Quickly he twisted
the knife, stabbing the cotton fabric of the underwear with the blade as he
pulled the knife outward. It rended the fabric easily. He slid the blade
all the way up to the waistband, which he had to pull out slightly with his
other hand in order to slice through it with the sharp blade. He then
repeated his action on the other leg of the underwear until at last they
fell off.
       "Very nice," Kurt observed, taking in the sight of his roommate's
bare ass for the first time. "You really do have a nice little bubble
butt," he complimented him. "But it's just so pale. Kurt stepped up on the
platform behind his prisoner and ran the palm of his hand across Greg's
exposed ass cheeks.
       As he drew his arm back, raising the paddle into a swing position,
he felt his heartbeat quicken.  His own cock was throbbing in
anticipation. "Count em out for me, bitch boy," he commanded as he swung
the paddle forcefully, connecting dead-center in the middle of the two
perfect globes. The whooshing noise the paddle made as it swept through the
air, followed by the loud crack of the hard wood against the prisoner's
soft flesh, was the most magnificent sound Kurt had ever heard. Hearing the
sudden cry of his victim as Greg's body jerked reflexively was merely an
added bonus.
       "One!" Greg shouted. "...Sir."
       Kurt laughed evilly. "One down, fourteen to go," he said. "And
that's only the first round."
       Whoosh! Whack! He delivered the second blow.
       "Two, sir!" Greg's muscles had tightened already, and his voice was
strained.
       Whoosh! Whack!
       "Three, sir!" He sounded as if on the verge of tears, and Kurt
noticed his ass was already reddening. He wound up for the next blow.
       Whoosh! Whack!
       "Aaahhh!"  He jerked against his restraints, trying futilely to
thrust his pelvis forward, to reposition himself in some way to respond to
the pain. He was trapped, though, unable to move even slightly.
       "Call it out, bitch, or the count starts over," Kurt sadistically
threatened.
       "Four, sir!"
       Kurt's cock throbbed in his scrub pants as he saw the boy stretched
on the pillory, his body now beginning to sweat and his ass cheeks turning
bright red. Kurt reeled back his arm once more and delivered the fifth
blow, harder than ever.
       "Oh God! AAAAAHHHH! Fi-eye-ive Sir!"
       "Fuck yeah," Kurt said, rubbing his hardon. "And you still have ten
more swats!"
       WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! He delivered the next three in succession.
       "Please sir! Oh God, Kurt... puh-leez stop!" Greg begged him.
       WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
       "Noooo! I'm begging you!" He was jerking frantically, trying to pull
his arms and legs free.
       "You have four more, you little wimp," Kurt said flatly. "Quit your
bawling and take it like a man!"
       WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
       At this point the kid was sobbing, his ass cheeks beginning to turn
purple.  Kurt stepped off the platform and walked around to the front of
the pillory. The kid's face was streaked with sweat and tears as he looked
up at him, using his big, round eyes to plead for mercy.
       "Okay, that completes the first round," Kurt said casually. "We
still have ten more articles of clothing on the table. If you refuse to
sniff them, that'll be fifty more swats. If you do sniff them, that'll be
thirty. If you suck on them, then it's only ten."
       "Sir, I can't! I can't suck those nasty things. If you put them in
my mouth, I'll puke!"
       "All right," Kurt said, thinking about it for a minute. "I'll make
you a deal. I'll show you mercy, but you have to compromise with me."
       "Anything!" he pleaded. "I'll do anything you say!"
       "Okay, here is the deal. If you agree to suck on one item from the
clothes pile, I'll reduce your swats to ten. But you also have to keep your
bedroom and bathroom spotless for the next month, do all your laundry, do
all the vacuuming, all the dishes, and wash and wax my car once a week."
       "Yes! I'll do it... oh please."
       "I'm not done yet," Kurt said. "And you have to blow me...whenever I
want."
       "Yes!" he cried, without even stopping to think about it.
       Kurt smiled smugly. "Well, that was almost a little too easy. But
there's still some nasty shit left in this pile."
       "Can I pick out the item, sir?" Greg pleaded.
       Kurt shook his head rapidly back and forth. "Oh no, no, no.... you
silly boy. Of course you don't get to pick out the item. I will select the
item, and then I'm gonna stuff it in your mouth and beat your ass ten more
times while you suck on it. That way I don't have to listen to you whine
like a fuckin baby."
       Greg looked up at him, staring him in the eyes. "Please,
Kurt... can't we take a break?"
       "Shut up," Kurt said calmly. "One more word and the deals off. I'll
just gag ya and beat your ass til my arm gets tired. That could be hours
from now."
       The kid looked up at him, terrified.
       "Okay, what the fuck is this?" Still wearing the latex gloves, he
reached down and picked up a crusty athletic sock. The sole was nearly
pitch black. "What'd you do, wear this sock for a week without washing it?
Looks like you walked around in the mud or something." Greg stared at it,
wide eyed, as Kurt dangled it in the air before his face.  "It's pretty
fuckin rank, too," Kurt said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.  "I think this
will work nicely."
       ****
       The past few days had gone very well for Greg. He'd felt like such a
jerk that day he let Kurt down, and even though Kurt was annoying and anal
at times, Greg really respected the guy. That's why he'd made such an
effort to try making it up to his landlord-roommate.
       If Greg were to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he'd
always admired Kurt. His physical appearance alone was admirable. At thirty
he was in great shape, and Greg had always had a thing for older men. Greg
loved Kurt's dark features. His close-cropped jet black hair and dark brown
eyes were incredibly sexy, and he had a fantastic upper body.
       Yeah, he'd known since the day he moved in that Kurt was a hottie,
and he'd had his share of fantasies about what the two of them could do
together. As Greg lay in bed at night, there were times he'd jack off
thinking about his roommate. Although he'd seen him shirtless a few times,
he'd never gotten a glimpse of the dude's cock, but the fact that he often
wore those scrubs made it easy to tell when he was aroused.
       Greg imagined what it'd be like to be on his knees servicing that
big boner of Kurt's. He thought about how bossy the guy got when he was
pissed, and Greg fantasized about him being like that during sex. He bet
Kurt was a really wild fuck. He'd undoubtedly be very dominant and
aggressive, and that turned Greg on.
       Most of the dudes Greg went out with were twinks like himself, but
this wasn't the kind of guy that he really wanted. He wanted someone more
stable and mature. He wanted a man who had his act together, who could give
him security and something more than just a hot scene in the bedroom. He
doubted very much that any of his feelings about Kurt were reciprocal. It
was kind of obvious that Kurt didn't even like him that much. Well,
truthfully, Greg couldn't blame him. He'd been pretty lazy and had taken
Kurt's generosity for granted. Kurt didn't even charge him that much for
rent. The least Greg should do would be to keep his room clean and help
with the housework.
       So when Greg got home that week, he resolved to do better. He didn't
leave messes in the kitchen and living room. He picked up his towels from
the bathroom and tried to keep it relatively clean.  He still needed to
tackle his bedroom, but for now he'd just try to remember to keep the door
shut so Kurt didn't have to see-or smell-it.
       On Saturday morning when he stumbled out of bed, he had to piss like
a motherfucker. He looked around his trashed room and decided that would be
his project for the day. After he was fully awake, he'd get it cleaned
up. He stumbled across the hall and into the bathroom to relieve himself.
When he was done, he stepped back into the hall and was suddenly
assaulted. Kurt grabbed him from behind and thrust him against the wall.
       At first Greg was startled and confused, but as soon as it became
apparent that Kurt wanted to get a little kinky, Greg began to get turned
on. The handcuffs and blindfold were fuckin rad. He'd never have suspected
Kurt would be that kind of guy, but Greg liked it. As excited as he was at
the time, being cuffed and blindfolded by his dream lover and led down a
long hallway to face a destiny he was oblivious to, Greg was also a little
bit nervous. It was hard for him to decipher whether Kurt was genuinely
pissed at him or if this was all just a hot scene.
       When the blindfold was removed and he found himself locked in a
pillory, Greg started to realize that this was not all fun and games. Kurt
was dead serious, and the thing that was really scary is that he seemed to
really enjoy being mean. Greg had seen Kurt upset before, but he never
imagined him to be sadistic. It was when Kurt threatened to evict him that
Greg fully realized how angry Kurt really was.
       Greg had never thought of himself as someone who enjoyed pain. Sure,
he'd done some kinky stuff before. He dated a guy once that liked using
nipple clamps and he'd done some playful spanking on occasion. But he'd
never really thought of doing a bondage scene where someone was locked up
in a set of Medieval stocks-especially not when that someone was him!
       Surprisingly, the scene turned him on. When he saw Kurt pick up that
paddle and slap it against his palm, Greg's cock began to harden. It was
crazy. He was totally defenseless. The holes in which his neck and wrists
were trapped afforded him no mobility whatsoever. He couldn't budge, and so
as his raging hardon throbbed in his boxer briefs, he didn't even have the
ability to reach down and touch himself. When Kurt then used the big knife
to cut his underpants to shreds, Greg was utterly exposed. It was
humiliating, having his roommate see him boned like that, defenseless and
totally at his mercy.
       The first three swats weren't so bad, but after that point, it
became unbearable. He'd never felt anything like it. His ass was literally
on fire, and that stinging didn't even have a chance to subside before the
next blow was delivered. It was stupid of Greg to even try to free himself
or pull against his restraints. He knew he was trapped, but he began to
panic. The pain was so excruciating that he couldn't help himself. He began
to jerk his arms and legs, trying to pull free.
       Once the first round of spankings was complete, Greg realized he'd
better come up with a different strategy. He was already exhausted and his
wrists and ankles were raw. He was sweating profusely, and his arms and
legs ached. Worst of all, his ass was inflamed in a way he'd never imagined
possible. Thank God he'd chosen the paddle and not the strop or the cane.
       When Kurt held up the nasty sock in front of Greg's face, he bit his
lip nervously and began to shake his head. "Dude, please! I can't do
it. It'll make me puke." Why hadn't he cleaned his room sooner? If he'd
just done so, Kurt never would have found all those filthy clothes lying
all over the floor.
       "Open!" Kurt said, as he stepped closer.
       "Wait, please... Kurt, please just listen to me."
       "We worked out a deal. Open your fuckin mouth now, or the whole
thing's off. You can either take your fifty swats or get the fuck out of
here."
       "Can we use a different one? Can we use one of your socks...?"
       Kurt lowered the sock and stared at his captive for a moment. "Hmm,"
he said, as if thinking.  "You'd rather suck on one of my socks than your
own?"
       "Yes, sir!" Greg pleaded.
       "One of these socks here that I've been wearing all morning? Walking
around in them on this dirty cement garage floor?"
       "Yes, sir!" Greg said, now whimpering. "Please..."
       "Why? Cause you know they won't be as dirty as these disgusting
things?"
       Well, that was a big part of it, Greg had to admit. But that wasn't
the only reason. The idea of Kurt's sweaty, soiled socks in his mouth
didn't seem to gross him out as much for some reason. In fact, it kind of
excited him. "That's not it," Greg said. "Yeah, they're probably not as
dirty, but even if they are, they're your socks, and they've been on your
feet."
       Kurt burst into laughter. He stepped to the side a bit and glanced
down. "Holy shit, you're rock hard thinking about it!"
       Greg's face suddenly felt like it was about as red as his ass.
       "You are a little bitch," Kurt said. "You're a nasty little
bitch. You wanna worship my feet and suck on my rank, sweaty socks while I
beat your ass. Don't ya boy?"
       "Yes, sir," Greg confessed, looking down at the ground shamefully.
       After a moment, Greg heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Kurt
removing his socks, one at a time. He held them up and looked at
them. "Eww," he said as he examined the soiled soles. "This is what you
want in your mouth?"
       "Yes, sir...please!"
       Kurt held them up to Greg's nose. "Sniff em. Get a good whiff."
Obediently Greg inhaled. They weren't half as bad as what he knew his own
crusty sock would have been. "Open!" Kurt commanded, and then stuffed both
socks into his prisoner's gaping mouth.
       At first it wasn't so bad. All Greg could taste was the cotton
fabric, but after a moment when they began to absorb his saliva, the foot
odor began to flood his mouth. "How's it taste?" Kurt said, laughing.
       Greg could only mumble a response.
       Kurt then stepped back and removed his shirt, pulling it over his
head. He was apparently beginning to work up a sweat. He stepped around the
pillory and resumed his position on the platform.  Greg knew what was
coming and closed his eyes tightly in anticipation. His entire body was
tense, and he felt the tug of the ankle restraints, stretching his
hamstrings as he thrust his abdomen into the bar that pressed against
it. He heard Kurt raise the paddle, then the whooshing sound. He bit hard
on the socks in his mouth as the weapon cracked against his vulnerable ass
cheeks.
       Greg moaned loudly into his gag. He took a deep breath through his
nose and braced himself again. Whack! Over and over, the blows were
delivered. Kurt wasted no time with this round, which actually was a
blessing. Although it was excruciatingly painful, Greg wanted it just to be
over. On the eighth swat, he didn't think he could go on. Sweat and tears
poured down his cheeks.
       "Nine!" Kurt shouted as he whacked him again, then quickly delivered
the final blow.
       Greg's body was shaking, in shock from the assault. He'd never felt
such excruciating pain, and it was only a total of twenty-five swats. He
had no idea how some people were capable of enduring floggings and
canings. Merely at the hands of a paddle, Greg had been reduced to a
pathetic, broken crybaby.
       In spite of it all, he remained rock hard. His ass was on
fire. Every muscle in his body was screaming. He felt demoralized and
defeated. Yet he was aroused like never before. He just lay there, slumped
over in his restrained position, the sock gag still in his mouth and tears
still streaming down his cheeks.
       Kurt stepped around the pillory and placed the paddle on the
table. "Fuck!" he said.
       Greg opened his mouth and spit out the gag. "Sir..." he
whimpered. "Thank you. Thank you for not kicking me out. Thank you for
giving me another chance... for punishing me!"
       Kurt reached up and unlatched the hook that held the bar in place
over Greg's head. He lifted it up then stepped around onto the platform
once more. As Greg felt Kurt pull him upright, he turned to the bigger man
and wrapped his limp arms around his neck. Greg sobbed as he buried his
face in Kurt's bare, muscular chest. For some reason, Kurt allowed it. Greg
felt him wrap his arms around him and hold him, giving Greg as much time as
he needed.
       Yes, the pain had been horrendous--probably the worst thing Greg had
ever experienced-but this was not the cause of his emotion. The remorseful
feelings the boy experienced were a result of his humiliation. He felt as
if he had utterly failed the one person he admired most. Yet he also felt
relief and gratitude. He was glad it was over, that he'd paid his dues and
endured his punishment. Of this he could be proud, and he was thankful Kurt
had given him a chance, rather than just discarding him.
       Kurt leaned over and unlatched the restraints on the boy's
ankles. As soon as Kurt stood back up, Greg lowered himself to his
knees. "Please Master," he said, "let me serve you."

       To be continued.