0 comments/  14315 views/  0 favorites

For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow

By: Cal Y. Pygia



The first lash of the cane upon Gary's bare ass was astonishingly painful, as was the second and the third, which followed fast upon it. The slender young man gasped, gritting his teeth, as tears sprang to his tightly closed eyes. His cock and balls lay between his well-turned thighs, the glans, or head, of his dick pointing down, toward the polished hardwood floor.

Behind him, Gary's boyfriend, Kevin--they had been together for three years now, to this very day, having become a couple when Gary was eighteen and Kevin was nineteen--studied the angry pink lines that the rattan cane had created across the sleek expanses of his target's arched mounds. Kevin's cock twitched and stirred, as it always did when he contemplated the effects of his handiwork. His boyfriend had a lovely bottom. Gary's ass cheeks were round and firm, the furrow between them deep, and the flesh covering them both smooth and pale--except, of course, where the blood had risen, to form the three parallel stripes across his buttocks and where it would rise again--and again--to form others of a brighter and deeper hue. Gary's cock, like Kevin's own, had swelled. It had stiffened, and, although it was sandwiched between Gary's upper legs, pointing downward, it was half-erect.

Naked, Gary was draped over a special sawhorse-like frame, over a folded child's-size mattress. His arms and legs were secured to the legs of the frame, in Velcro-fastened cuffs, to restrict his movements and prohibit any attempt on his part to escape. The uncomfortable position, the fetters, and his nudity increased both Gary's sense of vulnerability and his humiliation, demonstrating, as it were, his utter helplessness and loss of dignity. He knew, when he assumed this awkward and uncomfortable position, that he was utterly at Kevin's mercy, just as he knew that Kevin was utterly unmerciful and that Kevin would spank--or beat--him mercilessly. Gary found the display of his genitals embarrassing, too, for there was no hiding them, tugged down, between his thighs, as they were, thanks to Kevin's sadistic attention to such details.

Kevin raised his arm high overhead, the cane, cutting through the air, making a frightful whooshing sound, and aimed the instrument at his boyfriend's beautiful buttocks, intending to cut another narrow stripe between the last two lines he'd laid with the brutal cane. The cane streaked forward, and, landing exactly on target, caused a deep, wide furrow in Gary's tight bottom. Although restrained by the bench over which he was draped and to which he was cuffed, Gary managed to jostle his bottom, and his agonized cheeks shook most piteously and agreeably, signaling, as did his startled and anguished cry, his distress. A second and a third stroke of the cane landed, as viciously as the first lash of this second series, and Gary's head rose sharply as he screamed, loudly and long, venting the anguish that consumed his red-and-purple backside. Although the firm rotundity of his buttocks protected his penis and testicles, Gary could not help but to fear, nevertheless, that the cane would injure his genitals, perhaps to the point of castration.

Kevin had a gag among his disciplinarian's instruments, but he seldom employed it, for his young boyfriend's anguished cries were as music to his ears, offering, as they did, additional evidence, along with Gary's bruised and battered bottom, of Gary's pain and helplessness and of Kevin's own power over, and dominance of, the passive and submissive twink. For the same reason--to take pleasure in his victim's pain--Kevin had installed a large mirror before the spanking bench, so that he might see, reflected in the polished glass, Gary's frantic eyes, his contorted grimaces, and his distorted facial features, twisted with the agony that Kevin inflicted upon him in an ecstasy of dominance, power, and control that clearly and decisively demonstrated both his own superiority and mastery of the other man and Gary's inferiority and insignificance. The erection of Gary's cock and the ascension of his balls inside the contracted pouch of his scrotum also signaled his willingness to surrender his will in favor of Kevin's assertion of his own.

Although the severe angle at which Gary was bent over the frame restricted his ability to react to the thrashings of his buttocks, instinct, combined with involuntary muscle contractions, ensured that he made the effort to do so, for it was virtually the only way that he could attempt, however vainly, to evade the fiery lashes that ignited his bottom and enflamed his loins. Therefore, from his vantage point, standing behind him, Kevin was able to see and enjoy the knitting of his victim's brow, the furrowing of Gary's forehead, the squeezing shut of his eyes, the gaping of his mouth, and the look of desperation mingled with pain that each of the powerful strokes caused as the whistling cane cut deeply into Gary's bruised and tattered bottom.

Tears spilled from Gary's eyes, coursing down his cheeks, and the sight of them in the mirror further enflamed Kevin's lust for the twink's blood. Kevin's cock was fully erect now, straining against the front of his trousers, making of the fine fabric a tented "V" that, for Kevin, was another illustration of his own power and dominance, for was not a thick, hard cock, raised and ready, meant for penetration, occupation, and possession--unless, of course, the organ belonged to a sissy like Gary rather than to a true man like Kevin?

To give a sound spanking, Kevin believed, one had himself to have received such a thrashing, and to humiliate another person properly, one must himself have been properly mortified. To this end, before he had begun to spank and shame Gary, he had, without his boyfriend's knowledge, submitted himself to the dominance and mastery of a brutal, powerful man, a German sadist named Heinrich, who had not only caned Kevin's ass until it was a raw, bloody mess, but had also required his victim both to suck his master's prick and to take his Aryan cock up his ass. Heinrich had fucked Kevin fast, deep, and hard, and, ever since, Kevin had returned the favor, along with the canings and humiliation he had received at the German's hands (and cock), to his faithful, loving, and ever-more-obedient boyfriend.

Kevin often thought of Heinrich and what the sadistic bastard had done to him--what he had put him through, for no other reason than the German's own pleasure in Kevin's pain--when Kevin administered his own canings of Gary's helpless ass. Gary would never know the source of Kevin's rage, or suspect that it had a homophobic origin, but Gary would endure the effects of Kevin's rage all the rest of his days, for, three years ago, the twink had become his victim, as Kevin himself had once been Heinrich's injured party.

Kevin swooshed the cane, raising and lashing it back and forth several times in front of him, to let Gary hear the instrument's cruel sound as it cut the air, just as, in a moment, it would cut its victim's flesh. Gary had hung his head, in fear and disgrace, but the impact of the cane would cause him to jerk his head erect--or as erect as he might, restrained as he was--and allow Kevin another sight of Gary's distorted and distressed features as he cried out, his bottom afire and his soul in torment. Each time Kevin raised the cane, each time it smote Gary's buttocks, and each time the twink screamed, Kevin would remember Heinrich doing the same to him, or Heinrich ordering him to suck his cock, or Heinrich commanding him to take his massive member up his impaled ass.

In rapid succession, his hand and the cane it held a blur, Kevin delivered the third series of strokes to his compliant boyfriend's buttocks, watching with great satisfaction as Gary's quivering, jerking bottom received the strokes that drew red lines across its smooth, but bruised and battered, surface. The twink's cock rock hard, but still pointed downward, between his thighs, Gary howled, his whole body tensing with the agony he felt in his enflamed ass, the cheeks of which continued to tremble and clench even after the last of the strokes had cut his bottom, forming, almost in an instant, another wicked red welt among the other long ridges. Gary cried, screamed, and whimpered. His face was smeared with tears and mucus. His cheeks were apple-red. He looked a mess, just the way Kevin liked to see him.

Gary had not yet begun to beg, though, which meant that he had not, even naked and bent over a spanking bench, with his ass blossoming like a ripe, beautiful flower, lost all dignity and composure. Kevin smiled, knowing that he would, and soon. Kevin almost regretted stripping away the last shreds of Gary's self-respect, because, then, the caning of his ass would be more physical than emotional; at the moment, it was both, which made the twink's howls of anguish doubly joyful.

Still, reducing Gary beyond tears, to begging, was always Kevin's ultimate goal, for, when the spanking reached that point--and only when it had reached that point, and Gary was begging and pleading for Kevin's mercy--would Kevin have attained his objective. Of course, Gary's pleas did not mean that Kevin would respond the way Gary hoped and put an end to his suffering, not at all. The caning would continue until the predetermined number of strokes had been delivered, no matter Gary's state of mind or the condition of his ass.

The cane flashed, landing a resounding whack across both cheeks of Gary's highly decorated ass, and he shrieked, his face a mask of unadulterated anguish. The twink staggered and would have doubtlessly toppled had it not been for the cuffs that restrained him. His buttocks flexed, then trembled, and he gasped as the full measure of the cane's most recent lash blossomed in his badly bruised (and now -lacerated) cheeks. Grinning, Kevin smote his victim's derriere again, even harder, the impact of the cane furrowing Gary's battered bottom, and, as before, the twink screamed, the sound of his agony sweet in his boyfriend's ears. A clear drop of Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, adorned the tip of Gary's purple glans, a diamond, as it were, formed of the agony he had received at his tormentor's cruel hands.

Without pause, Kevin raised the cruel instrument and swung it downward, in an arc, fiercely, against Gary's enflamed fanny, and the tormented twink howled again, as Kevin completed he fourth set of three strokes. Normally, he paused between each trio of blows, but, this time, having delivered twelve strokes of the cane, he continued, slashing the cane down, fast and hard, into Gary's ravaged bottom, delighting in the twink's screams, squeals, and shrieks, as the red lines seeped blood and red welts rose, in lines, across Gary's buttocks. Kevin paused only after he had added the fifth set of three strokes, bringing the running total to fifteen strikes.

Blood continued to ooze from the angry red welts that the cane had etched in the sleek flesh of Gary's round, arched bottom, careening over the silken globes and down the backs of his firm thighs and calves. Gary had been reduced to tears at the completion of Kevin's previous strokes, and he whimpered openly now, through the film of saliva, mucus, and tears that made his face a glistening, horrid mess. At last, his dignity as tattered as his tush, Gary begged his boyfriend to cease and desist in the punishing of his bottom. "Please, stop," he murmured. "I can't take any more."

"I have no doubt but that you would like me to stop," Kevin replied sternly, "but I have not yet reached the predetermined number of strokes, and I would be amiss in my husbandly responsibilities if I were to spare you the rod prematurely." He ran the cane over the curve of Gary's bottom in a loving and caressing manner that, he knew, Gary would find intimidating in the extreme, promising, as the gesture did, further punishment to follow.

"Please," Gary repeated, his tone soft but desperate, "don't strike me again."

The cane, hard but smooth, continued to sweep up and down, over the rotundity of the twink's buttocks, lightly tickling Gary's flesh. Involuntarily, he flinched, in fear of the cruel instrument. His prick, still thick and hard, bobbled between his legs, his balls jiggling and bouncing.

Visually, Kevin examined his victim's bruised bottom. The injured party's ass cheeks were purple where they were not red, and fifteen red stripes, some oozing blood, like liquid rubies, stretched, parallel to one another, across his battered buttocks. Kevin found the sight of his victim's bloody, bruised, and lacerated behind as beautiful as a blossom in full flower and, despite Gary's buttocks' bruises and lacerations, Kevin knew that Gary's bottom could, in fact, endure many more lashes of the cane, should he wish to subject him to additional blows, although not, perhaps, without doing somewhat serious injury to the muscles and maybe scarifying the flesh permanently. Still, Kevin decided, he'd be able to complete the predetermined number of strokes without doing lasting injury to Gary's buttocks. Other men had endured far worse punishment than Gary would receive this day--as, indeed, had Kevin himself, at Heinrich's hands--and Gary would not, therefore, be afforded any consideration or mercy.

Kevin rubbed the cane gently over Gary's ass, letting its length sweep tenderly up and down, over the battered flesh. Then, with a flash, the cane rose and fell, striking hard across the twink's backside, and Gary screamed, gasping and crying as pain exploded in his buttocks. His ass flexed and quivered as, again and again, he shrieked and howled. When he was able to speak, he pleaded again for mercy, despite his knowledge that no mercy would be give to him. Tears spilled in a steady stream from his eyes. Mucus ran from his nose. Saliva drooled from his mouth. Blood spilled down his buttocks and thighs. More pre-cum oozed from his erect cock. His penis glistened with his manly fluids. "Please, Kevin, please don't hit me again. Please--"

The answer to his heartfelt plea interrupted his entreaty, the vicious, brutal blow of the rattan taking his breath away, as it stole his words, and he gave vent to the horrific anguish that filled his backside with a truly pathetic, reverberating series of screams.

Kevin's already stiff cock became more rigid still, and he longed to make use of his fleshly instrument. First, however, he must complete the employment of the rattan cane, and he raised it again, high, striking with all the force he could muster. The implement smote the twink's bottom with tremendous force, deeply furrowing the muscles of Gary's posterior. The tormented party screamed, writhing in place, his buttocks afire with anguish.

"Please," Gary pleaded, his voice weak and his tone more hopeless than hopeful, "please, please don't--"

Again, the cutting stroke of the cane interrupted his plea, and he teetered, gasping and shrieking and moaning and whimpering.

Kevin had delivered eighteen strokes, but he was not through yet with the task he'd set himself. He tapped lightly at Gary's bottom, as if to determine his aim. Twice, he tapped, and then tapped again, a third time. He repeated the tap-tap-tapping of the cane against the twink's bottom, so that Gary was not sure after which of these taps the strike would come and, anticipating the blow after each of the pats, became increasingly anxious that the strike must surely follow the next rap. When the slashing strike did fall, it nevertheless took him by surprise, filling him with as much astonishment and pain as the first blow had that her boyfriend had delivered to his bottom.

An image arose in Kevin's mind--an image of himself, but younger, and naked, bent over at the waist and clutching his ankles, the gigantic German, Heinrich, behind him, a stout and supple cane in hand. Before him, he saw his boyfriend's derriere, beaten, bruised, and bloody, but, in his fantasy, Gary's ass was Kevin's his own, the victim of Heinrich's homophobic self-loathing, directed at Kevin, rather than at the German bully himself.

The mental picture changed, and Kevin saw Heinrich standing before him, his massive member erect and pointed into his victim's face. "Suck my cock, bitch!" the German commanded, and Kevin parted his lips, sliding them down, around the thick, hard prick, taking the man's manhood into the warm-soft-wetness of his mouth. "Suck it, faggot!" he heard his tormentor cry. Before him, Gary's beautiful, bare, but bloody and battered, bottom awaited Kevin's pleasure. Kevin raised the cane, and it shot down, with tremendous force. Gary yelped, lunging against the mattress folded over the spanking bench. His bleeding buttocks quivered. Kevin heard his victim whimper and groan.

In his mind, Kevin was positioned upon his elbows and knees, his buttocks high in the air. Heinrich knelt behind him. Something smooth but rigid poked between Kevin's buttocks, and he felt the German's prick penetrate him, parting his anus as the massive organ slid past his sphincter, deep into his rectum. Kevin smote Gary's ass with all his force and strength, and the rattan cane, loud as a gunshot, furrowed the flesh and muscle of the twink's derriere, another red line appearing in the round, arched cheeks of Gary's ass as he cried out, fiercely and passionately, his cock spewing thick, white streamers of semen onto his thighs, along his calves, and onto the floor.

Kevin trembled, but with as much ecstasy, this time, as agony, and, at last, the predetermined number of strokes having been duly administered, he tossed the rattan implement aside. Gary's screams were his own, as the German, ejaculating, spewed his semen over Kevin's buttocks, back, and thighs. Gary's moans were Kevin's own, Gary's whimpering Kevin's own whining, Gary's pain Kevin's own anguish.

The German's hated face dissolved, and only Gary was with Kevin, the twink draped over the spanking bench, his battered and beleaguered ass a beautiful blossoming of blood and bruises. Kevin gave him bottom a hard pinch, "an inch to grow on," as the saying went, and Gary cried out.

"Happy birthday," he told him.