Taylor stepped into the apartment. Anticipation hurried his movements as he kicked off his shoes and slipped out of his jacket, then he paused and forced himself to take the time to put them in their proper place. He ran fingers through his blond hair, contemplating whether or not he had enough time to take a shower before Drey showed up. The thought of the professor's imminent arrival sent another thrum of eagerness through him, he licked his lips and headed to the bathroom.
It was no surprise that he was excited; between the contraption on his cock and the constant ache in his feet he had not been able to stop thinking about Drey and what the professor planned to do to him. Slowly, he was getting used to the chastity device, used to controlling his erection so it didn't fight the relentless cage. It was still agony when his focus slipped, but he was careful not to let that happen too often. He had to admit, the more he wore it, the more he grew to like it. It was an inescapable reminder, similar to the plugs and clamps that had been used on him in the past. At the same time it was more controlling, if he got too hot and bothered he no longer had the option of rubbing one out.
He slipped his clothing off, turned on the water, and stepped into the tub. With a slight wince he faced away from the faucet, so that the spray didn't fall directly onto his genitals. Grasping the shampoo bottle he leaned into the warm spray and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the patter of water on his scalp. He worked the shampoo into his wet hair quickly, then rinsed it as he grabbed the bar of soap. He lathered his body, scrubbing away the grimy feeling that work always left him with. He rinsed again and shut off the faucet. Normally he liked lengthy showers, but it wouldn't be too long before the professor arrived and he needed at least a few minutes to get into character after he got dressed.
Taylor stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The image was distorted by steam, features just distinguishable. The bruising on his neck was fading to yellow, soon it would be completely gone until the next time he was marked. Which, knowing Drey, wouldn't be too far in the future. He wound the towel around his waist, holding it with one hand as he picked up the dirty clothes in the other. As he exited the bathroom he considered what he would change into, then stopped considering it.
Something dark covered his eyes and a grip on his wet hair shoved him down, doubling him over. Drey's early arrival was startling enough that instinct took over and Taylor bent to his knees before he recalled his role. His body went rigid. It was hard to ignore the urge to give in, especially with no time to prepare. His clothing and the towel fell as he flailed his arms and aimed an elbow at the older man.
The intruder caught his wrist and twisted it roughly behind him, earning a yelp as he pinned it up between his shoulder blades. He shoved him downwards again, so that Taylor's forehead was on the floor and his knees burned against the carpet as he struggled to rise. He released his hair and snatched up his other arm, forcing both to cross behind his back. With one booted foot he stepped on the middle of the young man's back with just enough pressure to keep him down. Taylor fought but was hardly able to go anywhere as the stranger reached for the pair of cuffs that he had left withing convenient reach.
Taylor swore as the leather buckles were secured around his wrists, his curses muffled by the carpet. Fingers stroked through his hair, got a grip, then hauled his head up. All he could do was arch his back with the boot still holding his lower half to the floor. He gritted his teeth and tried with very little success to turn his head away as the intruder shoved a rubber gag at his lips. Fingers grasped his chin and easily pried his mouth open. The gag was not completely round, instead it was oval shaped with a bulge at one end, so that he could not push it out with his tongue as the straps were pulled behind his head and secured together. It tasted new, with that faint chemically hint that clung to plastic. Hands shifted the blindfold into a more effective position, then the stranger stepped away from his captive and crossed the room to where he had left his other equipment.
A grunt escaped Taylor as he rose to his knees, yanking at the bindings that held his wrists. He stood and nearly tripped over the damp towel that was still underfoot. He found the wall mostly by accident, leaned against it, and worked on fully immersing himself in his character during the short wait for the professor to return. He cowered with believable fear as footsteps heralded Drey's approach.
The intruder grabbed his hair once more, instead of pushing him back down he pulled him further upright and steered him to face the wall. He stepped forward. His chest was against Taylor's back, his breath hot on his neck, and his hands exploring the naked body. He wore all black, from the boots and denim clad legs that he used to kick apart the young man's legs to his simple T-shirt and the thin leather gloves that encased his fingers. The only thing on him that wasn't dark was the cane that hung from a strap on his wrist. It was a slight but sturdy thing made from bamboo. It brushed the young man's skin as the stranger's touch roved over his chest, drawing shivers from him.
Taylor was already partially erect, and gasped as the unrelenting metal of the chastity devise was pressed harder against his flesh by the knee that nudged between his thighs. He drooled around the gag and his knees bent as he spread his legs further, silently asking for more. A sharp pain shot through his scalp, the grip pulled him straight again as the intruder stepped away.
He used the handful of hair to keep the younger man on his toes with his head pressed against the wall. Then he swung the cane, smirking as Taylor whimpered and cringed even though it only swished at the air. His feet probably still ached from the activities of yesterday, it would be a challenge to keep him up for a prolonged period. The intruder licked his lips, took aim, and swung the cane again. It swished through the air and snapped the back of his thighs.
"One," He spoke quietly and tugged insistently on Taylor's hair as the younger man tried to step away. Swish, snap. "Two." The stranger was not going easy but every motion was carefully controlled. While the cane caused a growing amount of pain, it did not come anywhere close to drawing blood.
The young man gasped with each swing. The first dozen weren't so bad, starting just below his ass they traveled down until the twelfth strike bit at the soft skin of the back of his knees. Then the aim shifted higher again, strikes crossing the welts that already formed on his pale skin. Taylor's gasps became whimpers by the time twenty was passed. Knees knocked against the wall as sore feet protested having to keep him up.
The intruder tugged his hair and paused the caning in order to tap the young man on ankle, eliciting a moan as Taylor struggled to rise. He smiled and continued where he had left off. Swish, snap. "Twenty-two."
With his legs trembling and reddened by the bamboo, Taylor was crying by the time he was allowed to collapse against the wall. Forty-three, the number rang in his mind as the professor walked away again. Disappointment swirled through him. The aim had been for fifty but neither the hold on his hair nor the threat of the cane against his heel had been enough to keep him on his toes, he had failed. He moaned against his gag, hating the sick feeling that coiled inside him at the thought of displeasing Drey. If he had been able to speak he would have begged the older man to finish the rest before moving on to the next part, certain he could stay up for just seven more hits.
Hands pulled his limp form away from the support of the wall, arranging him on his knees and pressing his head down so that his forehead was once again acquainted with the carpet. The intruder pressed his leg to the back of Taylor's welted thighs, propping him up as he maneuvered his ass into a far more vulnerable position. The cool surface of the paddle brushed against one check and then the other. It had been sanded to immaculate smoothness, the wood almost soft as it touched his skin.
Taylor bit down on the gag and his cuffed hands clenched into fists. He would make it to fifty this time, without doing anything that could be taken as an indication to stop. He focused on Drey's voice, methodically counting along with each blow from the paddle. Each slap won a pained grunt from the young man even though he tried to keep himself quiet.
The intruder paused at forty, placing the paddle down and leering at his captive's plaintive moans. He rubbed his hands along Taylor's butt, the skin was warm to the touch even through his gloves. "With the way you waggle your ass around, I almost think you want it."
It took a moment for Taylor to realize that he had slipped out of character to the point where Drey had to go off script to subtly scold him. Hearing the professor's voice, harsher than normal but otherwise undisguised, caused the sick feeling to wind tighter in his stomach. Drey was not supposed to speak yet, not until the end of tomorrow. Taylor was ruining their game because he wasn't focused.
The paddle slid across his ass again and a gloved hand reached down to pet his nearly dry hair. Taylor held his body rigid, fighting the tremors that tried to wrack him. Submission was not the way to please Drey tonight, but how could he not submit? The conflict roiled through him and the young man burned with disgust at himself. What the hell was wrong with him that he couldn't keep in character?
There was a shift behind him, the professor leaning across his back to snarl in his ear. "Do you want it? Huh bitch. You like being spanked like a_"
Taylor saw flashes and stars, even with the blindfold on, and gave a dizzy growl through the gag. He had jerked his head backwards as much as he was able, the base of his skull solidly connecting with something of Drey's. He didn't have long to wait for the professor to react to that show of defiance; he could only hope he would be allowed the chance to earn forgiveness for his lapse.