Chris Donaldson Ch. 04

He got up and went to his own dresser, and felt underneath his briefs for his secret stash. He pulled out the boxers, t-shirt and socks he had slept in that night, almost three weeks ago now. No scent there, of course. He found the socks he had worshipped that incredible night. Whatever there had been of Mark had long since faded away.

Chris had nothing.

He sat down, leaning against Justin's bed, head in his arms. How had this happened? He had been the happiest guy on the planet. But he had put his confidence in the wrong guy. Mark evidently wasn't so nice after all.

I'm not going to fucking cry.

Exercise might be a balm. The campus gym was closed, but he could always take a run. He changed into sweatpants, sweatshirt and a ball cap. Just run, boy. Run until you drop or find an answer.

Chris left the room, and locked the door. He jogged down the hall, and ran smack into . . . Mason.

Jesus, fuckballs. Mason!

Chris froze.

"Hey, how's it going?" He attempted to jog past, but Mason leaned against the wall, blocking his immediate path.

"I'm fine, Chris, how are you? I didn't know you would be here this weekend. You didn't sign up saying you'd be staying in the dorm."

Oh fuck, did I do something wrong again?

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. I didn't expect to be back until Sunday night."

"Oh. Everything ok, Chris?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, thank you." Chris was jogging in place, desperate to get to the door and outside.

"Ok. Well, let me know if you ever need anything."

Chris looked up. Was he serious?

Mason's expression was sincere, even . . . kind? No, it couldn't be.

"Thanks," Chris said. He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

"If there's ever anything you want to talk about . . . You know where I am."

Chris stopped jogging. Yes, Mason looked totally serious - not ironic, not severe.

"Ok. Well . . . thank you." Sir. Chris thought it but didn't dare say it.

Stop it, you dumbass. You need to take Mason's offer in the spirit it was meant, not in some perverted twisted way. "I'm sorry, I really need to go for a run while it's still light out. I've got a lot on my mind, and this is the only thing that helps."

Chris sprinted out of the dorm and ran through the park and deeper into campus.

What the fuck had he said that for?? His RA had offered counseling, he had refused it, and then told him he actually needed it, but got it through running.

You, boy, are completely messed up. You don't know what you want; you think you know it, but you don't.

Sure I do, Chris retorted to himself. Remember back in September? Remember how you made a list of what you wanted and needed? Well, didn't that work out for a while?

As he jogged, Chris worked on that list.

90 minutes later, after an epic run, he returned to his room. He ordered a pizza and turned in after eating it, still unsettled.

Saturday morning; Chris rose with the sun.

I know what I want. I want sex again. I want to be sexually submissive. I want to be sexually submissive to someone who cares about me.

Ok - but what do you do until you find that person?

Find experience where it comes. Put myself out there online. Mr. Right is around the corner, I just need to find him. Mr. Dominant Right, that is. I need to help take the lead. Assertive in finding out who the right man is, but submissive when I'm with him. I will not be afraid to make the first move, but I will bow to his will once he responds.

And so Chris' inner monologue proceeded all day. He went to the fine arts library for the limited hours it was open and made a stab at studying for exams, although he mostly thought about men. He opened his kink hookup app for the first time in over a week. No messages. A couple "cruises" but not from anyone close enough to meet in person. He looked at the people who had viewed his profile. ChiTown85 was one. Just today. Aww. Fuck. What is that all about? He clicked on ChiTown's profile to send him a message.

"This profile is not available."

What? He clicked again.

"This profile is not available." Chris knew the fine print. Either Mark had deleted his profile, or he had blocked Chris. Wow. Just, wow.

He sank into despair that night in his room, even going so far as to open the cabinet where Justin kept his bourbon. There was the bottle of Knob Creek, three quarters full. Chris poured a shot. He won't miss it. Any more than I miss him.

Except I do miss him, Chris thought after he had downed the liquor. Where the fuck is he?

Chris tumbled into bed, tipsy and depressed.

In the morning, he had a plan of action. It was an inchoate idea that took shape before lunch. Desperate, maybe, but perhaps his only hope under the circumstances.

At 2:00 p.m. sharp, he knocked on Mason's door. Firmly, this time.

Mercifully, it opened.

"Hey, Mason."

"Hi Chris. What can I do for you?"

"Can I talk to you? Privately?"

Mason ushered him in, a knowing smirk on his face.

Chris kept his eyes down and entered. He didn't sit at the table, but remained standing.

"So . . . I do need . . . something."

"Yes?"

"I . . ." Chris looked up at Mason for help, but the RA let the boy flounder. He thought he knew what this was about.

"I . . . need . . ."

"What do you need, Chris?"

"I've . . . I've been bad."

"Oh?" Mason's dick stiffened. Yes, he had been right. But let the boy explain.

"I've . . . fucked up."

"MESSED up," Mason gently chided. "And that's 50 for swearing." He spoke in the calmest, most reasonable voice imaginable. "What did you do, Chris?"

What do I say, Chris thought. I blew my only chance at happiness by making breakfast. I threw away a great thing by shoving my roommates' head into a desk. EVERYTHING. I've fucked up EVERYTHING.

"Everything, Sir. I've messed up everything."

As if in a dream, Chris began taking off his clothes, unbidden. He walked voluntarily past a bemused Mason into the closet and through the shirts. He bent willingly over the bench.

"Just whip me, Sir, please. Anything you can imagine I've done wrong, I've done it."

Mason was momentarily at a loss. He was used to making boys confess. He had known many willing subs, but none who had simply offered their asses up for his chastisement with no real reason.

"Have you lied, young man?"

"No."

Hmm.

"Have you been a brat, then?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"I've been presumptuous, Sir. I've tried to exceed my place, Sir. I'm just a slut, a submissive, Sir. I dared to think I was more than that, Sir."

Ah. Now Mason was on familiar ground.

"That's a very serious matter, young man. You do realize you won't be able to sit at all after this? There will be 50 strokes of the razor strop for swearing, and an undetermined number of additional strokes until I'm sure you know your place. And after that, when you're truly penitent, a dozen strokes with the cane for being a male whore. I don't even want to ask the details, the fact that you've been promiscuous merits the most severe punishment imaginable."

He talks like a book, Chris, thought, but he's going to give me what I need. What I deserve.

And Mason gave it. Stroke after stroke, smack after smack. Mason gave it slowly and steadily, making Chris keep count. The 50 for swearing passed in sheer agony, and after a break which was too short, Mason began again, eager to make sure Chris knew what he was. He was forced to say, "I am a submissive faggot" after each blow of the strop. Mason didn't stint; Chris said the words 100 times. His hands never left the handles on the bench.

Mason was impressed. This fucker can take a lot. And he seems to want it. Hmm.

"All that's left is the cane, young man."

"Yes, Sir," Chris said in a small voice, knowing that this time, Mark was not waiting on the other end of a hookup app to console him. No, he was here to get his ass blistered, and he would see it through. Maybe this session would scare him straight, and teach him not to waste time on sex and unreliable men, but concentrate on his degree.

Chris' ass was already purple and stiff to the touch when Mason brought out the cane. He was too turned on to have any sympathy.

"You're going to get twelve. They will hurt more than anything you've ever experienced. Count them out, boy."

I've been slapped in the face, gut-punched, and fucked by a 9-inch dick. Bring it on, Chris thought.

YEOWWWW!!

"One, Sir!" Chris was immediately penitent. Yes, this was worse than anything he had yet experienced.

YEOWWWWWW!!

"Two, Sir!" And so it went, through twelve.

YEOOWWWWW!!

Mason had added a dozen fearsome welts to Chris' already bruised and swollen ass. When it was done, Mason didn't make the boy stand with his nose to the wall. Because he had asked for his punishment, Mason helped him up off the bench. Chris looked surprised. Instinctively, he knelt in front of his tormentor.

Mason smiled.

"Do you want to suck my dick, Chris? Is that it?"

Chris stammered an incoherent reply.

"I just whipped you for being a whore. Is this how you learn your lesson?"

"Sorry, Sir, kneeling just seemed appropriate. I didn't mean to suggest . . ."

"Of course you did, sub. But that's ok, I forgive you." Mason raised Chris to his feet.

"You don't get to suck me off now. You shouldn't need to do that, if the punishment was effective."

"Oh yes, Sir, it was! Yes Sir!" Chris was lying, he did need dick. Now more than ever. But he knew he couldn't take another beating. Even worse than last time, he thought his ass was going to explode and/or fall off.

"Dress, boy. I appreciate your respect. We'll leave it at that." For now.

Chris put his clothes on and left Mason's room, after another awkward sideways hug like the first time.

Chris was determined to stay in his sub space, and descended the stairs to the first floor and his own hall, eyes down and thoroughly punished. Back in his room, he took his pants down to examine the damage in the mirror. Holy shit, it was even worse than last time. But he deserved it. All of it. He poked at his rock-hard butt, wincing. He bent over to see if Mason had managed to redden his crack, too. He had.

Suddenly, he heard the fumbling of a key in the lock. Oh fuck. Justin. Already? It's not even 4:00 yet. His roommate stumbled in the room before he had completely pulled his pants up.

Justin grunted. "Hey, roomie."

"Hi." Chris buckled his belt and went to fetch his laptop from his desk. The library would be open regular hours tonight, and it was safer there. He could contemplate his sins while sitting on a hard wooden chair.

"Where're you off to?"

"Study."

"Cool. What's your first exam?"

Chris stood awkwardly with his backpack on and no jacket, unwilling to shoulder past his roommate, but not feeling like chatting with him.

"History of Buddhism."

"Cool." Justin paused, but he didn't move to let Chris pass.

"So what happened to your ass, roomie?"

Shit. He had seen it. "Nothing. Listen, I gotta go. I've barely studied for this one, and exams start in a week." He flinched as a once-familiar hand lightly gripped his jaw.

"Look at me, Chris," Justin said quietly. "What happened to your ass?" He lifted Chris' bag off his shoulder and put it on the floor, his prominent biceps flexing under the weight. "Let me see."

Chris looked into Justin's eyes reluctantly. "Nothing happened to my ass, Justin, I don't know what you're talking about. Where'd I put my jacket?"

Justin's thick fingers undid Chris belt. When Chris grabbed his wrists to stop him, Justin firmly put the smaller boy's arms back at his sides. Chris stared at the wall as his roommate lowered his jeans and underwear. Firm hands turned him around, and he felt Justin bending down to look at his purple, welted butt.

"Wow. That must hurt like a bitch."

Chris nodded. "Yep. Are we done?" He tried to raise his clothes, but Justin grabbed his wrists and gently made him put his hands flat on his desk.

"Step back. Spread your legs a little." There was a flash.

"Oh, Jesus, Justin, what the fuck . . ."

Justin pushed him back to the desk.

"Somebody got you real good, Chrissy." He ran a hand over the welted, swollen ass before him. "Looks pretty hot, though."

Was that a laugh? Chris stood up and turned around, looking like he wanted to kill his roommate, but Justin was smiling good-naturedly.

"What the fuck did you take a picture for?"

"Always best to document evidence of assault," Justin smirked. Chris scowled. "Aw, don't be so pissy, Chrissy. It's a hot pic. I'll send it to you later. Your ass looks amazing. Glad I'm not you," Justin laughed, "but it's fuckin' awesome. Who did it to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I need to study."

"Aw, man, don't be so harsh. I'm curious." In this playful mood, Justin was much harder to resist. There was always an element of roughness, of rawness to him, but this was the guy Chris had met and been attracted to in September. Jesus, that seemed like a year ago now.

"Seriously, Justin, I'm not interested in telling you about it." Chris tried to pull up his pants again, but Justin prevented it, reaching around to grip his roommate's ass firmly.

"AAHHH," Chris gasped.

"It's still hot, bud. You must have just gotten it."

Chris avoided his gaze.

"Am I right?"

Chris nodded.

"So it was someone here? In the dorm?" Justin was grinning like a randy jock in the locker room, comparing conquests and battle scars. "Come on, dude, you never talk to me anymore. I want to know."

Oh, for Christ's sake, Chris thought, there's a fucking good reason I don't talk to you, you asshole. And now, the very first conversation we're having in a month, you're already humiliating me again. Why does it always have to be this way?

Why DID it always have to be this way?

As he had been evaluating his needs and wants the day before, Chris had glossed over one important one - he wanted a friend. A buddy, a fun dude he could talk to about kink and sex. And maybe mess around with. Truthfully, he had always craved that kind of relationship with Justin, but after their first day had assumed that would never be possible. Well, why not? Why can't I have anything at least partially on my own terms?

"Ok, I'll tell you."

Justin looked pleased.

"But I need to lie down."

Justin chuckled. "Sure, roomie. Here, take your shirt off, too. You can lie on my bed for a while and tell me all about it." He walked over and locked the door, and kicked off his shoes. Chris lay down, naked and shy, on Justin's bed. He turned on his stomach, to save his ass, and also so he could look at the floor instead of his roommate. The sheets smelled faintly of jock sweat, and Chris started to get hard. He heard the clink of a belt buckle. Justin was taking off his jeans, too.

"Scoot over." Chris obliged, and Justin sat next to him, a bottle of body lotion in his hand - from Chris' closet, of course. In fairness, Justin probably didn't own any lotion.

"Sorry if this hurts."

Sorry? Chris didn't think he'd ever heard Justin say the word before. He winced at the rough hand rubbing his swollen butt cheeks, but the lotion did feel good.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. So tell me who did it. What kinky fucker is in this dorm I didn't know about? Is he in our suite?"

"No."

"On our floor?"

"No."

"Wait, it was a he, wasn't it??"

"Yeah. It was, um . . ." What the hell. "Mason."

Justin let out a whoop that could have been heard in the next county, slapped Chris's ass in glee ("Oops, sorry roomie!") and guffawed for a solid minute.

"It's not THAT funny."

"Oh yes it is - that fucker is one mean son of a bitch!" Justin kept laughing. "There are rumors at the house that he enjoys paddling the pledges an awful lot, but I had NO IDEA he would beat anyone else, and he's never whupped a pledge as hard as he got you. Aw man, that is too, too funny."

"What? Wait, what? The house?" Chris was stunned.

"Yeah man, he's in the fraternity. SAE."

"Oh shit."

Justin laughed even harder. "You mean you didn't know? Oh man, this gets even better!"

Chris buried his head under Justin's pillow. I had no idea. No wonder he kept smirking when I was talking to him about Justin. I was complaining to him about a guy in his own frat. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! They both have me over a barrel now. They probably think I'm the house slut, especially after what I told Mason today.

Justin started to calm down and rubbed Chris' ass again. "So tell me how it happened. I gotta hear this."

Chris tried to get up. "Under the circumstances . . . listen, I'm incredibly embarrassed now, and I don't want to tell you any more. Please forget this. Please," Chris begged.

Justin's dick bounced a little through his boxers at seeing his freshly-spanked roommate beg, but his face softened when he looked at Chris' desperate eyes. There was that look again. That look that made him feel . . . bad? Good? Mean? Horny? Tender? Justin looked away, and back at Chris' butt. The poor kid truly wasn't going to be able to sit comfortably for at least a week, maybe longer. He recognized the stripes that meant Mason had used a cane, too; this had been hard core. Poor fucker was going to have to sit through his exams like that.

Justin shoved Chris back onto his bed, but not roughly. Hesitating, he put his hand on Chris' back. He squeezed his roommate's shoulder. "Hey."

Justin moved Chris' light body closer to the wall, and lay down beside him, putting his big arm around him and squeezing the smaller boy against his muscular chest. "I'm not going to tell anyone else, Chris, I promise. I'm just your horny roommate. You can't blame a guy for being curious." He squeezed Chris again, who slowly relaxed into the chest he'd worshipped many times but had never been this intimate with.

"Just tell me. Why did he do it? Why did he give it to you so bad? Did you do something to piss him off?"

"Not exactly."

Chris reluctantly explained. He had asked for it; it was actually not the first time. He felt Justin tense slightly as he told him about the previous whipping, for lying.

"That fucker. But why did you go back? Why did you ask for it this time?"

Chris closed his eyes and told his roommate about asking to be beaten for being a slut.

"You mean you told him about us?"

"No!" Chris responded quickly. "Just in general."

"Good. Good boy. So you went asking for spanking because you felt like a whore. I bet you feel even more like one now, huh? That is so fucking hot," Justin said with grudging admiration. Chris felt the large, thick, uncut dick he had spent so much time sucking harden against his stiff ass. "You really are a champ, Chrissy."

"It's your fucking fault. If you hadn't gone to him first, he would never have spanked me in the first place."

Justin just laughed. "I knew you might talk to him, so I had to get my side in first. Don't forget, you gave me a huge fucking bump on my head, roomie."

Chris shook with rage and tried vainly to pry out of Justin's steel embrace. "You tripped over the fucking chair because you were drunk off your ass, and don't YOU forget you were beating me up for no FUCKING reason!"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh, calm down. Calm down." Justin slipped his other arm under Chris' neck and held him tight in both arms. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Whatever Justin, just let go of me. I have to study." Chris's outrage was real, but so was his hard-on. The contact with his athletic roommate and erstwhile Dom was having an effect on him that his anger couldn't diminish.

"Shhh." Justin put his lips against Chris' neck, his nose behind Chris' ear. "Shhh. It's gonna be ok. You can study later." Then, after a pause - "I didn't mean to hurt you, Chrissy. I'm sorry I did that to you. I really am." He nuzzled the back of Chris' head with his face. "I promise I won't do that again. And I won't tell anyone about what we do in here."