Caleb ghosted me. I guess it shouldn't be a surprise, him being super religious and me being the guy who proved to him that he was also super gay. Yet he believed
sodomy
, as he put it in his biblical fashion, was a deviant sin, and I'm sure guilt wracked his soul because he'd turned out to be an awesome sodomite. I'd never been so solidly fucked.
After two weeks of silence, I gave up any hope of another hook up with him, so I was pleasantly surprised when I heard my name called as I crossed the quad after one of my evening business classes.
"Jamie!"
I turned and caught my breath. The street lights were bright enough that I could make out his figure as he approached. Even in just jeans and a hoody, zipped up against the cool fall air, he was so hot, like a panther coiled to spring. He radiated energy.
"Caleb. How's it going." I knew to be cool and distant since he wanted to keep me on the down low on campus. He was firmly in the closet, and while I didn't go waving my arms and telling everyone I knew that I was gay, I didn't keep it a secret.
"Can I walk with you?"
"Of course!" I tried to dial down my excitement. "Sure!" With that luscious black hair and sharp blue eyes, there was no way I'd say no. I tried not to pop wood as I remembered looking into them as he penetrated me so deeply and roughly.
At first, he was silent, but sideways glances met my eyes a few times, his cheeks blushing. Okay, this must be about sex. Fantastic! Just give him enough time to say he wants to fuck.
"I...uhm...I shouldn't have done that to you."
"Why not? I loved every second of it." I assumed he was talking about fucking.
"It's just...uhm...this is really difficult, but it's a sin and I want to be punished for it."
Alright, maybe he is too much baggage. "Caleb, you're not a bad person just because you like guys."
"I know, I know. I've no right to ask, but if you could help me out here, inflict the punishment, I wouldn't have to confess to anyone else."
The punishment I'd assign would be to fuck him again, but it was clear he had something specific in mind. "What sort of punishment?" I asked.
He glanced around as if to ensure no one could hear, but the quad was pretty empty as the moon rose over the trees. His voice dropped to a whisper and he kept his eyes straight ahead. "I want you to flog me."
Flog
. Why did this guy sound more like a 12th century monk? His religious upbringing must have been very deep and very fundamentalist. I had to tread carefully here so that I didn't scare him away.
"I can help you with that, but you have to know that you're not a bad person."
He nodded and glanced my way, his cheeks positively blazing. "Thanks, I mean I know, but I need to deal with this somehow. I'd really appreciate it. I'm not asking for sex or anything, just to be flogged for my sins."
The last time we hooked up the plan wasn't for sex either, but it sure as hell changed once he was tied to my bed--at his request. We neared the limit of campus, a stone wall marking the border between the green lawns and the outside world. Once under the arch, our homes were in different directions.
"I'd love to invite you over right now," I said. "But I think Saturday night would be better if you're free. The couple that lives in the apartment upstairs from me is going away for the weekend again, so you could make all the shouts you want without them calling the police."
He stopped under the stone arch to face me, swallowing his shame. "That would be perfect. Is like right after dinner good, say seven?"
"Seven it is. I'll see you Saturday." With that we headed in opposite directions.
* * *
Not masturbating the rest of the week was pure torture with my constant hard on. I'm not really into "flogging" as he called it, and the one time I received it, I discovered that it wasn't as sensuous as I'd fantasized. My partner that day turned out to just really be into inflicting pain, so that was our one and only hook up.
The trick on Saturday was going to be stimulating him enough so that he felt appropriately punished, but wanted more after I'd sensitized his prefect bottom. I came up with a plan and just had to hope it didn't backfire. I'd take on the role of a church elder.
Caleb's eyes went a little wide when I opened my door wearing a crisp white dress shirt with a black tie that matched my black dress pants. If I'd been walking down the street people would've avoided me on the sidewalk so that they wouldn't have to answer about whether they'd been saved.
I turned from the door without a word and went to the living room to sit in my arm chair like a king awaiting a subject at court. Caleb followed me, closing the front door quickly, and stood awkwardly in the center of the living room carpet, clearly unsure of what he was supposed to do. He blushed, adjusted his slightly sideways baseball cap, and finally hooked his thumbs into the belt of his jeans, the bulge in the crotch obvious.
"You're here for redemption?" I finally asked.
He nodded. "Yes. Please. Punish me for my sins." He trembled with excitement. Wow this guy was fucked up.
"Strip."
His eyes went wide again, but he took a frightened breath and gave a short nod.
His t-shirt went up over his head, and I fought to keep the lust from my eyes as I admired awesome abs and light unarm hair. This guy was a nearly hairless twink like me. He shoved his jeans down, allowing the boner to push out against his boxer briefs. He hopped on first one foot and then the other to remove his socks. He stopped with his hands at his side.
"Everything?" he whispered.
I loved the vulnerability, the fear in his eyes that I would do too much, or maybe not enough.
"Everything." I used my hard voice, the one I rarely used except with interns who failed to do a job back when I was still working my engineering job before the lay-offs.
He nodded and bent over, pushing his shorts down to his ankles and stepping out of them. When he stood again, not only his cheeks flamed but his upper chest. His erection pointed up, so painfully hard that I could've hung a wet towel from it and the damn penis wouldn't have budged from its nearly vertical aim.
I stood and walked around him in a slow circle, admiring his youthful glow. Hell, I'm only 31, but his 23-year-old flush made me feel like I was in my 90s. Oh well, just be grateful this young guy wants my attention.
"The basement." I gestured toward the door in the hallway.
"Oh! Okay." His surprise indicated that he thought his punishment would be right here or in my bedroom. As he walked ahead of me, I enjoyed the flexing of his firm, skinny buttocks, but I also wondered what he expected for his "punishment." Did he think I'd just bend him over my knee and spank him like an errant child? He had asked to be flogged, so that was my plan.
His back was to me when he saw the cuffs dangling from a rope. It went through a heavy duty eye hook I had screwed into a beam in the unfinished ceiling of the basement. I'm certain his entire body tensed. He turned to face me with those blue eyes wide, wide open.
"You really are going to flog me," he whispered.
"Hold out your hands." Again, my commanding voice.
He held them out, wrists together, and I put the leather cuffs on him, using the Velcro straps to secure them. The rope passed though the chain that held them together. I admit, I must've blushed like crazy when the clerk rang them up at the sex shop. She was late twenties and hot, and she gave me a wink as she put them in the bag along with my other toy purchases. Suddenly I pictured her naked, her hands high above her head as I prepared to tease her. Okay, I guess I still have a straight side.
I'd tied the far end of the rope around one of those metal columns that hold up the house. I slipped it free and began to slowly pull the rope. His hands rose as the rope passed farther through the eye hook above him. His eyes stayed glued on me, his erection so red it looked like the head might explode. Soon his wrists resisted, his arms stretched as high as they could reach. I pulled some more forcing him up onto his tiptoes. I let the rope slack back through the eye hook, watching carefully until his heels again touched the ground. I stopped there, satisfied that he was comfortably taunt. I tied off the rope around the post. He was secure and ready to be played like a tightly strung instrument.
But I wasn't in a hurry. I picked up a barbecue lighter off the rough work bench and snapped it to flame so that I could light the many tea candles I had placed on the steps of a step ladder near this end of the basement. Now I could shut off the harsh fluorescent lights. I also lit some fat candles that stood alone at the top of waist high candle holders. These usually were on either side of my bed, because I like soft light and the romantic smell, even when I'm just alone masturbating.
I turned back to him, walking in a circle around him, his head turning first one way to watch me out of sight behind him before swinging around as I appeared on his other side. I stopped in front of him, face to face, and pressed my hand to his flat chest, letting it slide down over his stomach toward his erection.
"You've been a naughty boy." I took his cock in my hand, provoking a full body shudder.
His eyes stared down at his erection in my hand, and I sensed that he wanted to thrust back and forth into my grip but held himself back with a force of will. He only nodded his guilt. Time to start the games. I let go of him, stepped to one side, and raised my bare palm to strike.
"One," I said. Smack! Right across his perfect bum. His whole body spasmed, thrusting his dick forward because I'd caught him off guard. This gave me an idea. I took just his cock head in my left hand, not squeezing, just firm. "Two." I smacked harder, causing him to thrust forward along my grip.
"Oh God," he groaned. Whether it was from the pleasure on his penis shaft or the pain on his bare bum I wasn't sure.
My hand was a bit sore from the smack, but I loved the sharp contact with his bare buttock. Time to really open up. "three...four...five..." I went all the way to twenty, each smack harder than the last, changing from one buttock to the other, my hand now squeezing his dick more firmly, his jerks after each shot forcing his cock forward in my grasp. He was giving himself a hand job in my hand with each thrust, the pain always immediately followed by the pleasure of my grip.
