Boy Toy Ch 04

Mr. Bennet worked in an office in the business district, while Mrs. Bennett worked at home. As a result, I spent a lot of time alone with her. She made certain that I never forgot that she was in charge, and I was just her naked plaything. If she ever thought I was getting arrogant or willful, she would find some way to humble me and put me in my place.

An example of this would be last Tuesday. Mrs. Bennet sent me down to the basement to fetch the hedge clippers and other gardening tools that she kept down there. The basement was shadowy and poorly lit. Also, it had a mildew-y smell and a disturbing number of cobwebs. Some of the furniture down there was old and had splinters. When I returned from the basement, I complained about the inhospitable environment down there and decreed that she shouldn't be sending a naked and barefoot teenager down there. Delicate parts of my anatomy were shamelessly exposed. And getting a splinter on my foreskin, the shaft of my cock or my nipples would be distressing and grievously painful.

She responded to my complaints with a cold glare, and I immediately realized that I'd made a huge mistake.

"Stephen, have you forgotten who you are?" she asked. "You're my slave. You're my whipping boy. If I send you down into a dark, disturbing basement and you get splinters in your boyish nipples, that's part of being a slave. You're supposed to be willing to endure pain for me."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I withdraw my complaint. Forget I said anything."

She stalked forward, gave me a dark look, and took the box of gardening tools from my grasp. Then, she said, "It's too late for that, Stephen. You'll have to be punished for your inappropriate attitude."

She set down the box and picked up a leather strap. I knew from experience how much that strap could hurt, and I feared it.

"You think you're too good for the basement?" she asked. Then she gave me a stern look and said, "Slaves aren't supposed to think that way. Back to the basement now!"

I was marched back down to the ominous confines of the basement and my heart pounded urgently in my chest. Mrs. Bennett followed close behind me with her wicked strap at the ready.

There were boxes of old magazines, tax forms and newspapers stored down in the basement. Mrs. Benner informed me that all of this was trash and ordered me to carry the boxes upstairs so they could be taken to the dumpster later. There were about a dozen boxes, and they were all heavy. They had also accumulated a thin coating of soot or some sort of grime. As I clutched these boxes to my chest and carried them out of the basement, my naked body became smeared with whatever disgusting substance was on the boxes. I wisely chose not to complain about this indignity, as complaining had gotten me this humiliating chore in the first place.

When all the garbage had been cleared out of the basement, I assumed that I had paid for my earlier insolence, but I had assumed incorrectly.

"Your next labor is to scrub the basement floor," Mrs. Bennett informed me. "Get on your hands and knees."

Scrubbing floors is hard, tedious work, and Mrs. Bennett made certain that it was humiliating as well. I was naked, on my hands and knees, and Mrs. Bennett insisted that I keep my legs apart as I worked, thus leaving my anus and balls indecently exposed.

And she was a real stickler for legs-wide-apart rule. She kept her stinging leather strap at the ready. And if my knees ever drifted too close together, she'd slice the cruel leather across my naked backside.

At one point I was on my knees, scrubbing a stubborn stain from the floor and Mrs. Bennett took advantage of my vulnerable position. She crouched down behind me, fondled my naked hindquarters, stroked the smooth flesh of my perineum, cupped my balls, and even pried my buttocks apart and gently stroked the soft flesh of my anus.

I felt a finger pushing into me and I gasped. I was already naked and in a vulnerable, degrading position. I felt helpless enough without being anally raped.

"Keep scrubbing," she said as she wriggled a lubricated finger inside of me, "Nobody said that you could stop."

It was difficult to concentrate on my chores while my anus was being oiled, stroked, and pried open. However, my overseer had a leather strap, and if faltered in my labors, I would feel the red-hot sting of her strap across my buttocks.

My mistress's goal was to humble me and remind me of my inferior status. She was admirably successful in her goal. Being forced to crawl, naked across the hard basement floor while my anus was touched and opened stripped me of all my pride and dignity. I felt utterly subjugated by my mistress. I was just a naked slave, and she was an esteemed woman with authority and an intimidating collection of painful paddles and straps.

I spent two hours crawling around on that hard basement floor. By the time I was finished, my knees were bruised, and I was filthy. I was also sweaty, and my cock was painfully erect and throbbing.

When I was finished scrubbing the basement floor, I thought that Mrs. Bennett was done humiliating me, however, I thought wrong.

"You've done an excellent job cleaning the basement," my mistress allowed. "But now you're all filthy. I'm going to have to clean you up."

I stood up and was about to exit the basement, but Mrs. Bennet stopped me.

"Get back down on your hands and knees," she ordered. "I want you to crawl up the stairs. I like the way your ass looks when you crawl."

It was degrading, but orders were orders. Mrs. Bennett made certain that I knew she was ogling my naked buttocks she stood behind me and watched me crawl. Then she ordered me into the bathroom, so she could clean me up.

I was ordered to remain on my hands and knees while Mrs. Bennett filled the tub halfway with deliciously hot water. When the temperature and the depth of the water were to her liking, she bade me to get in.

I crawled into the tub and positioned myself on my hands and knees, thinking that's the way she would want me; however, she ordered me to kneel up in the tub instead.

"Hands at the back of your neck," she ordered. "Legs open wide, chest, belly and genitals as displayed as possible."

It was a vulnerable and humiliating position for a naked slave, which I'm certain was the whole reason she ordered me to pose this way.

"You have a very beautiful body, Stephen. You should never be ashamed of showing it off," she commented when she saw the pouting look on my face.

Mrs. Bennett got out a bottle of bodywash and smeared the slippery liquid all over me. It had a pleasant smell, and Mrs. Bennett was gentle in the way that she rubbed it into my skin, however, she seemed to spend an unusually protracted amount of time rubbing the slick substance into the more intimate parts of my body.

She soaped up my chest and toyed with my exposed nipples. I was surprised at how my nipples responded to her touch as she stroked them. There was a sort of pleasant, warm tingling associated with her touch.

Apparently, a man's nipples can be stimulated in a manner similar to a woman's nipples. My body involuntarily responded when Mrs. Bennett stroked and caressed my nipples. I gasped and felt embarrassment as she worked her fingers carefully across my delicate nipples, causing them to respond and become hard and erect.

Sometimes it seems that Mrs. Bennett knows my body better than I do. She knew that she could stimulate my nipples when I didn't. She smiled wickedly when she saw me tremble and my breathing became labored in response to the way she toyed with my sensitive, pink nipples.

She was thirty-six years old, and I was just a teenager. I suppose she's had more time to experience things and learn secrets of the male body.

After soaping up my chest, her hands migrated down to my abs, then moved lower, eventually reaching my inner thighs.

"Spread your legs, Stephen," she said. I obeyed, kneeling with her legs farther apart, and then even farther than that as Mrs. Bennet gripped my inner thighs and pushed them apart insistently.

With my legs spread pornographically wide, she grasped the shaft of my cock with her slippery fingers and spent a great deal of time getting everything soapy and wet. She spent a great deal of time and effort working the bodywash into the head and shaft of my cock until it was throbbing and extraordinarily erect. She slid the foreskin up and down, making certain it was thoroughly lubricated before her hand moved down to my balls.

When she was finished handling my genitals, she even worked her hand into the furrow between my buttocks and rubbed the slick, oily bodywash into the tender flesh of my anus.

"You have beautiful skin and exquisite muscle tone," Mrs. Bennet said as she worked her hands all over my naked body. "However, some of your body hair has grown back. A slave should be hairless from the neck down. It looks like I'm going to have to shave you."

I was already naked, wet and felt exposed and vulnerable while she was fully clothed. Somehow the prospect of getting shaved by her made me feel as if I were going to be even more naked than naked.

"Couldn't I just shave myself?" I inquired, hoping she would leave me with that small amount of dignity.

"Don't be foolish," she said. "How are you going to shave your asshole? You can't even see it. You'll end missing half the hairs back there and cutting yourself in the process!"

I was ordered to turn around and place me hands on the wall and spread my legs apart.

"No, very wide," she said sternly, "until you feel it in those exquisite thigh muscles. That's Better."

My inner thigh muscles strained as I knelt there with my legs spread pornographically wide and I stuck my ass out towards Mrs. Bennet, leaving my anus exposed and available for her to do as she pleased.

I felt her hands on my ass cheeks and she spread them apart, leaving my delicate, pink hole even more on display. She worked pressed her fingers against my anus and I felt an appalling sense of submissiveness and surrender as she spread more of the thick gel into the crack of my ass and then rubbed it deep into my puckered hole itself.

I moaned as she played with my asshole, then she took out her razor, shook it in the hot water, and began shaving. She dragged the razor across my sensitive pink opening as well as my perinium, shaving away small, delicate hairs that I couldn't even see, much less target with the razor.

When she finished, she splashed some water over my ass to rinse away the shaving cream and said "There now. That's much better."

There were a few errant hairs on the backs of my thighs. After she shaved those away, she playfully slapped me on my butt and told me to turn around so she could begin shaving my cock and balls.

A guy never realizes how many small hairs grow on the shaft of his cock until the time comes to shave them off. Then, there seem to be too many to count. It took an agonizingly long time for Mrs. Bennett to scrape away all of mine.

She kept re-soaping the shaft of my cock as she shaved it, getting me more and more aroused. She even soaped up the head of my cock, even though it was completely smooth and hairless.

Then she shaved my balls. She tugged at the soft skin of my scrotum, pulling it taut. By stretching it, she created a flat surface that was much easier to shave. And when my balls were hairless, she discovered tiny hairs on my inner thighs that had been obscured by the hairs on my scrotum.

_______

When I was smooth and hairless all over, I was rinsed and dried. Then Mrs. Bennet took me into her bedroom and rubbed an aromatic oil into my skin. I found the scent intoxicating, and I felt an invigorating tingle in every part of my body that had the oil rubbed into it.

I felt deliciously aroused and then she sat on the bed, her chin raised regally, looking imperious and said, "Okay, Stephen, get over my lap. It's time for your cute, boyish ass to get spanked."

I was trembling slightly as I crawled over her lap. She grabbed me around my slender waist and pulled me into position with a strength that belied her slender frame. I had followed all of her commands without hesitation or complaint and why I was lying naked across her lap in this intimate and humiliating position. I lowered my hands to the floor in an attempt to steady myself and tremulously asked, "Why do I have to be spanked? What did I do?"

"You really need a reason?" she asked, mischief in her voice.

She rubbed one of my naked buttocks in her hand and said, "I'm going to spank you because sometimes it's all I can think about. With your firm, boyish body, naked and on display all day long, strutting around my home with your dancer's legs and your perfectly shaped ass, sometimes I just want to grab you by your slender waist and spank you until your bottom is red and stinging."

I had tensed up when I draped myself across her lap, however, I gradually relaxed as she spent several minutes compliments the firmness of my glutes and how attractive they looked sandwiched between my slender waist and my athletic thighs. At one point I was lying limp like a rag doll across her lap, and then there was a loud

CRACK

and a sharp, stinging sensation as Mrs. Bennet's strong right hand swatted my vulnerable hindquarters.

My whole body shuddered, and I tensed up. With my buttocks all oiled and slick, the spanks hurt much more than normal. The pain was staggering, and each blow stung my naked skin more than the blow that preceded it. I writhed and bounced across Mrs. bennet's lap, and cries of pain soon escaped my boyish lips.

From the way my bottom was stinging, I could tell my ass was rapidly turning red. I attempted to remain in position across her lap, however, the pain was so severe that I found myself kicking my legs uncontrollably and writhing with each blow. I cried out in pain and was soon sobbing. I was spanked repeatedly, Mrs. Bennett's strong right hand catching the sensitive underside of my bottom near the delicious crease where the lower curve of the buttocks meets the backs of the thighs.

I moaned and squirmed and kicked, but she held me tightly around the waist and kept me from squirming off her lap. She spanked me harder and harder. I sobbed, my hips squirmed, and made a degrading display of myself as my poor bottom was wickedly assaulted.

Then, adding to my humiliation, Mrs. Bennet texted her husband and told him about my spanking, in great detail. He texted back and told her he couldn't wait to come home and see the painful discoloration she'd left all over my ass.

I wanted to complain about the way she talked about me to her husband, gloating about the way that I squirmed in pain across her lap, but I had learned that complaining just invited more punishments, so I kept my mouth shut.

It was hours later that Mr. Bennett returned home. I was in the kitchen at the time.

Originally, I was hired by Mr. and Mrs. Bennett to be used for sex, however, the longer I lived there, the more my submissive tendencies came to the forefront. Mrs. Bennett took advantage of my submissive nature and assigned me other duties, including, food prep, cooking and washing the dishes.

I was washing my hands after handling the food, when I heard Cole's voice from the other room. "Stephen, get out here! I want to see you!"

Cole noticed almost immediately how my pubis was smooth and hairless and ordered me to stand for inspection with my hands behind the back of my neck and me legs spread indecently far apart.

"You shaved him," Cole said to his wife, without taking his eyes off my denuded cock and balls.

"His pubes were starting to grow back," she explained. "That didn't seem to be the sort of thing we should allow."

"No, indeed we shouldn't," Cole agreed.

He cradled my balls, gently at first, marveling at the smoothness of my hairless genitals. Then he became rougher. He tugged on the skin of my scrotum, stretching it taught and then cruelly pinching it. My cock became more engorged with blood as he toyed with my private parts, and then he released the abused flesh of my ball sack and roughly grabbed the shaft of my cock. He squeezed it, causing the tip to swell and turn a deep red. A small dollop of fluid emerged from the opening and then Cole painfully pinched the tip.

He continued to squeeze my erect cock in his vicelike grip and pinched the sensitive underside of my cock as well.

"Aaahhh!"

I gasped and I struggled to keep from using my hands to protect my cock. Mrs. Bennett saw me squirm and admonished me to be still and maintain the pose I'd been ordered to hold for inspection.

Of course, once he was done examining my cock, he wanted to see my ass. He had me turn my back to him and place my hands against the wall so he could examine my naked buttocks.

"What is this? His ass isn't red at all," Cole remarked as he closely examined my naked body. He had clearly wanted to see the results of the painful spanking his wife had delivered, but the color had faded from my shapely ass.

"It was red right after I spanked him," Mrs. Bennet insisted.

Then she added, "His skin is very resilient. It doesn't matter how hard I spank him. He recovers very quickly."

"Well, I've spent all afternoon looking forward to enjoying Stephen's reddened ass," he said as he began to take off his belt. "I'm not going to let a little thing like resiliency get in the way of my fun."

I remained facing the wall, but I squirmed as Mr. Bennett folded his belt double and got ready to swing it at my exposed hindquarters.

"You're going to whip me with your belt? I whispered. "What did I do?"

"Nothing, Stephen," Cole replied. "But I want to see your bottom and those exquisite legs in good color, just like when my wife spanked you."

My heart pounded frantically in my chest and my body temperature surged into feverish heat. I feared corporal punishments, but paradoxically I was also sexually excited by them. As Cole prepared to hurt me with his belt, my cock twitched and my whole body trembled with equal parts fear and sexual desire.

"Push your butt out more towards me," Cole told me as I stood there, waiting for my whipping, "It will look sexier if it looks like you're making your ass an easy target."

I felt like a shameless slut, but I bent over at the waist and put my naked buttocks on display for Mr. Bennet. For a few moments I stopped worrying about how much his leather belt would hurt and instead I felt deeply embarrassed at how my pornographic pose made me look like some sort of man-whore.

Then a scorching blow cut across my tight ass, and I forgot all about the optics of how I was posed. Cole's leather belt slashed across my naked skin a dozen times in rapid succession, and I fought valiantly not to scream like a teenage girl in a slasher film.

Nghhh! Nghhh! Gahhhh! Ow! Aaahhh!"

The sting of Cole's belt across my naked bottom was painful, but it was painful in a fiercely sensual and darkly exciting way. I suffered, but it was a delicious sort of suffering. I embraced the pain and accepted my role as a naked plaything that needed harsh and unfair punishments.

The whipping went on and on. My ass bounced, my whole body jerked in response to the shocking pain of it and I broke out in tears, but I managed to hold back my screams. When the whipping finally stopped my poor bottom, and the backs of my thighs were a riot of pain and whole body was trembling.

While I was still sobbing, Cole tossed his belt on the floor and closed the distance between us. He grabbed one of my abused buttocks. My ass felt reddened and welted and when he squeezed my poor bottom I whimpered in agonizing pain.

When I'd first moved in with Cole and Vanessa, Cole wasn't into spanking. However, he's watched many times as his wife turned my ass red, and Vanessa's enthusiasm for punishing me became contagious. Now, he punishes me almost as much as she does.