This story is about Chris and Justin, roommates and sophomores in college. Chris, only recently out to himself, began the new school year very eager for his first sexual experience. Justin, a dominant frat jock, was happy to provide that first experience, and quickly turned Chris into his live-in sub. Justin has a violent streak, however, which drove Chris briefly into the arms of a nicer guy in his late 20s, Mark, who took Chris' anal virginity, but broke off contact a week later. Chris returned to Justin, and they recommenced their exploration of D/s sex. The shadow of one more man hangs over them - Mason, a senior. He is their RA, and also in the same fraternity as Justin. He has discovered Chris' submissive desires, and has administered two very severe punishments to Chris' bare ass, with hand, strop, and most recently, a cane. This chapter contains some corporal punishment. All characters in this story are over 18.
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The bar door banged shut. A tall man in his late 20s with short, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard walked in, shaking the drops from his umbrella. A sudden March storm had caught him outside and on foot; rather than braving it for another six blocks to the subway, he had decided to take refuge in the nearest doorway. Which happened to be this dive bar - Ted's. He had moved to the big city after graduating from college five years ago, and had spent a lot of time exploring it, but he had never wandered in here before. It looked like you could pick up an STD from sitting on one of the stools. Oh well. At least the place was open and dry. And empty, too. No, not quite. There was one other guy at the bar, who honestly looked too young to be there. He was handsome, though - shaved head, the confident look of an athlete. College, most likely. He looked like he probably came from money. What was he doing in this shithole? Interesting.
Mark took off his raincoat and draped it over a barstool. He sat down next to it, and made eye contact with the bartender, who was about his own age, stocky, and bear-like, with a withdrawn look.
Probably on something, Mark thought.
Not confident in how a mixed drink might turn out here, he ordered a Laphroaig. Neat.
"Ten year?" asked Jayson.
"Ten is fine."
Mark glanced at the musclehead down the bar while he waited for his drink. The dude was playing with his phone. Too young for you, he thought. You already made that mistake once, a few months ago. Don't do it again.
He turned to his own phone, and idly opened his favorite hookup app. Who was nearby? He wasn't usually in this neighborhood at this time; there might be someone new and interesting.
Nope. No one hot close by. Who were you hoping to find, the stud over there? Mark chuckled to himself.
There was his scotch. He sipped, happy to be warming up out of the rain.
He swiped over to "messages" on the app. None of the guys he had recently chatted with currently piqued his interest either. Viewers. Cruises. Nothing worth his time. Settings. His thumb paused over "blocks". He put the phone down, and took another sip of his scotch. You know you're dying to see his pics again, he thought. But I have to unblock him to see them. So? You've been thinking of him since Valentine's day when he texted your cell. It's ok to look. Mark looked at his list of blocked profiles, then tapped on "newsub2012". Unblock. And there he was. His private pictures were still open. That fucking adorable face with the pretty eyes, topped by short, dark-blond hair; that hot round ass, pale and inviting; and what looked to be a recent pic of the nicely worked out, trim chest, all hairy again . . . Damn. He was indeed too young, but he was one hot sub.
And I took his cherry. Mark grinned, remembering. Should I text him? Why? Don't do it unless you really want to see him again. He took hefty swallow of the Laphroaig.
At the other end of the bar, Justin nursed his third Knob Creek. The ice cube was just a sliver now. He was looking at a text from Chris on his phone. He wasn't sure what to type. He scrolled back up the thread to reread it:
"Hey, Sir."
"Hey, fag."
"Where are you?"
"With my girlfriend, faggot."
"Are you at her place?"
"What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you."
"What's the problem? I'll be home later. You'll get what you need, don't worry. No action here tonight, you'll get all of it from these blue balls."
"What's her name?"
"What do you need, boy?"
"You've never told me her name."
"Tell me what you want or fuck off, faggot."
"I need to talk to you in person."
"Fine, I'll be home later."
"I need to talk to you now."
"WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?"
"I got this invitation in the mail. It's to an event at your fraternity."
"What the fuck?"
"Yeah. So - we can talk about it when you get back."
"Who's it from?"
"Mason. We can talk about it later. So you didn't know about it?"
"No, I didn't fucking know about it. What event is it?"
"Some get-together on the 10th. It looks official."
Justin continued to stare at the screen. The 10th was a Meet and Greet at SAE for spring rush. What the fuck was that about? Why had Mason invited Chris? Was he asking Chris to rush? There was no way Chris would ever make it in. Mason must know that, he's a fucking officer. What's his deal? Why is he doing this?
"So should I go?" was Chris' last text.
"Don't answer yet."
Justin hammered back the last of his bourbon and considered. I can't figure this out. What was Mason thinking? Did he really want Chris to join? Why? So he can get his jollies paddling him? But he's already done that twice in his own dorm room.
