Orson looked at Squirrel hopelessly. "I really need to get out of this thing, dude." Orson was standing in the middle of their living room, naked but for his chastity device, and looked really desperate.
Squirrel snorted. How strange things had gotten in the past nine months. Squirrel was a bit of a geek, and had been kind of flattered when the most popular guy in their M.B. A. program-hell, in the entire business school-had asked him to be a roommate.
"I could use the tutoring" Orson had told Squirrel, and of course this was crap. Although Orson was a former rugby and football player in college, he also had a razor sharp mind, and if anything, could have tutored Squirrel.
Squirrel was very bright, but was what the B-schoolers referred to as a "Poet". The Business School Poets were more cerebral, interested in things like management theory and industrial psychology.
Squirrel's weak spot was math, and Orson was great at that, and so Squirrel moved in! Squirrel was also on a scholarship, and Orson basically was born to money, and the rent was a great deal.
And then Squirrel had discovered why Orson had asked him to move in, and was it weird.
"I found out that you are interested in bondage and discipline? Is that your thing?" Orson had tried to be very casual about it, but the interest was really there. Squirrel had blinked at Orson.
"I was wondering if you've ever given a guy a good whipping."
Squirrel was astounded. Orson was a beautiful man. Thick, curly hair, muscles all over the goddamned place, and what a washboard stomach. Orson got more butt than a toilet seat, chicks and hotties were dropping by the place day and night.
"I'm not gay, but..." Orson had these intense blue eyes, and he could talk Squirrel into anything. When Squirrel nodded assent, Orson had actually brought him a thick leather belt.
"This was my dad's razor strop" Orson said reminiscently. Orson then undid his pants and pulled them down, as well as his undies, and he'd lay across a pillow on the bed.
Jesus, what a bubble butt. Orson had been tanned all over except for the white area around his butt that had been covered by his shorts, and Squirrel had turned that white area damned red.
Squirrel had started out slow, but Orson had taunted him, telling Squirrel he was a "wimpy whipper." So Squirrel had gone to town on Orson's butt, and after it was over, Squirrel had dropped his own pants and had corn holed Orson's ass.
They'd cleaned up afterwards, and agreed this would never happen again, but about a week later, Orson left the kitchen filthy and the Dad's razor strop on the coffee table.
This seemed ridiculous to Squirrel. They were both twenty-three years old, wasn't Orson going to act like an adult? But Orson refused to clean the kitchen until Squirrel ordered him to strip and go over the couch for another hard whipping.
Then, afterwards, Orson, big, manly Orson, had sucked skinny, nerdy Squirrel's dick, and sucked it GOOD, the guy had practice from somewhere.
And then, apropos of nothing, had put on a frilly apron, naked otherwise, and had cleaned the entire apartment, even doing the baseboards on his hands and knees.
This had Squirrel an excellent rear view of Orson's huge hanging ball sack.
It had been a slippery slope. Orson had asked for more rules, and Squirrel had given him an eleven o'clock curfew, no more late nights with the ladies, and one night when Orson and his bimbo came in, Squirrel was pissed.
The girl had left in horror after watching Squirrel whip Orson's ass as Orson screamed and cried, lying over the dork's lap.
Orson's dates with B-school chicks kind of dried up after this. Bisexual boys aren't that attractive, really.
