Jack Loses His Y Fronts

"Of course, and with one other adjustment..."

From the other side of the screen Jack listened intently.

"...with females as witnesses. Preferably girls the boy's own age. Has Jack a sister? No, and young Julia, so useful with your other lodgers, is not with us. So...let me recruit two of the girls in the waiting room- sisters of other boys- to join us. Adds to the frisson. Makes it unforgettable for the punished boy. He will think twice before any more lapses."

Jack stood, shirt half off. Heart beating. On the other side of the screen he heard Gerda and her assistant Patricia leaving the room.

Silence.

"You ready, Jack?" asked Mrs Ellroy. "Why don't you step out now?"

Like a robot he finished undressing, laying his shirt slowly and carefully on a chair and stepped out. In nothing but his Coopers Jockey Y Fronts.

At that moment Gerda returned with two girls and Patricia. She closed the door.

The eyes of the three young women stood on stalks at the sight of the boy with a build like Michelangelo's David. In nothing but drooping, worn Y fronts.

Chrissy had relished coming with her mam and her dopey, pimply brother Michael. To see her own brother naked again- oh god! Her own brother without a stitch, sooooo funny!- sprawled over the lap of this big lady, the boy gurgling and gasping, kicking and twisting, then howling his heart out, his tiny, tight little bum turning red. Then when he stood facing them, seeing his modest dick and balls on display, crying like a baby- oh god, that had been too, too delicious.

Five visits in all. He hated her determination to join every one of them.

And there was always going to be a naked boy in the corridors and she loved that too. But this! A handsome fella...those eyelashes...those muscles...that big bulge, so much bigger than Michael's...

The other girl, Georgina, had been looking forward to her brother Donald emerging naked from behind that screen. "Stark naked," Miss Halloway had ordered on every one of their visits. "I want to see you stark naked." Georgina had thrilled in her tummy to hear those words, and on that special occasion two months ago on the very first visit, the moment he had stepped out, she had seen her big 22 year old brother naked for the first time, and realised for the first time how hairy he was. He hadn't been allowed to keep his hands in front for long and then she had seen...everything. She remembered how her tummy had turned over with excitement, especially when he had blushed so deeply when she caught his eye and flashed him a smile.

And loved, on all the family visits since- oh, once or twice a week- to see him standing bent at the desk with the strap lashing his bottom cheeks and his naughty parts swinging between his thighs as the strap came down hard, him bawling. In the corridors she might glimpse another boy nude, hovering and shamed. And that was a sweet thrill, especially when her burning gaze made the boy crouch or cover in fear. And sweeter still- if she could glimpse the thing that he was trying to cover.

But...but...but...

...to get to see this Jack, who was this handsome...

...and so close up...

...and totally exposed...

Jack stood. He shifted his stance. They looked right at him. Their eyes scanned him, all of him.

Gerda spoke.

"Jack, you are being punished. You know why. So you will stop a dirty, disgusting habit. To make it more severe we have witnesses to your punishment. Female witnesses..."

Three girls were beaming.

"Stand tall. And, Jack..."

The air was electric.

"...lower your underpants to your heels."

The intake of breath from the three girls was loud.

Jack gave a soft cry. He looked desperately at Mrs Ellroy for intervention.

Chrissy could not suppress a smile. Oh, this was priceless. Georgina's eyes widened. They would see him stitchless. Gerda's assistant Patricia stroked the front of her pinafore idly, her tiny, greedy eyes taking Jack in. She had never seen a naked male till she had started this job with the Halloway establishment...had no brothers, had no boyfriend...and now she was seeing a dozen- no, 20- a day. All naked as jays. But this one was sooo strong and good looking.

"If you don't take them down I will have to strap you till they slither down."

"Be a good boy, Jack."

"B...b...but, Mrs Ellroy..."

"Down Jack." This was the voice of his landlady who could throw him out on the street for any reason.

And there was nothing to it but to take hold of the elastic...

...take a deep breath...

...look at the floor...

...and lower his Y fronts at a steady pace...

...down to his navel...

...to his timberline of glistening black curls...

...and lower still, to reveal the upper end of his wide cock...

...girls drinking in the sight ravenously.

...and still lower as he then revealed all his groin and its contents...

At this moment his glans was half out of the bunched up skin, like a half moon shyly revealing itself. The network of blue veins, including the huge mother vein that ran down the centre, was standing out. The stem was filling but not yet lifting and his ball sac hung loose with absurd contents outlined, like a visual joke.

His underpants fell into place around his ankles.

He stood, eyes glistening with shame and the deepest, crimson blush over his face.

He left his hands at his sides because he sensed that's what they expected of him.

There's no need to dwell on the detail of his humiliation- starting, with what seemed an hour over Gerda's lap while her hand rained down on every part of his "cheeks" - how rude that word seemed to him, in this context- and the back of his thighs. Especially high on his thighs. How this made him tingle and sting and wince and twist and turn. Once he swung over on his side and caught an awful glimpse of three girls, eyes bulging, looking right into his upturned groin and the loose, lolling, damp flesh of his ample genitals.

Yet he couldn't stop himself from the gurgling and mewing sound that he knew to their ears must sound so pathetic. And then the pain grew so savage- those relentless sharp stings- especially where his bottom joined his legs, he couldn't stop himself crying- blubbering like a babe- and he knew that in some way he was broken. Which probably explained why at that moment the assault ceased.

He dangled on her lap.

His rear was electric.

It must be blazing. And he knew they were looking at it.

Then Gerda told him to rise and stand, hands on her desk, slightly bent.

He limped off her lap. He knew he was revealing himself. He stood over the desk. And heard her testing her widest, brown strap.

He looked over his shoulder.

"I am now starting our punishment proper. And we will make your bottom very, very sore. But you are a strong young man and I believe you can take it bravely."

"His manly attributes," thought Mrs Ellroy as her gimlet gaze followed the swinging movement of Jack's ballsac and heavy penis in the space between his legs as each stroke of the strap, expertly wielded by Gerda, struck one of his cheeks, or the cheeks two at once. "Oh my god," thought Georgina, "He has so much hanging there, between his legs!" And Chrissy thought, "He must have the strongest arse muscles of any of the young men in here!" As for Gerda's young assistant, Patricia, she was hypnotised.

Tears coursed from Jack's screwed eyes, down his face, as he bore the excruciating pain.

Slash!

Slash!

Slash!

And with each slash the dangling weight between his thighs swayed like a double pendulum.

Later, standing in the corridor pressing against the wall, Jack had much to reflect on. Especially when a mother with son and daughter walked past into Gerda's study and he thought for a moment of that young man he had seen earlier who had let passers-by see his erection. Jack considered it...and felt the thrill but faltered. He opted to press his rigid eight and a half inches flat into the wallpaper. But mainly he wondered why with all his humiliation he felt also that rivulet of queer excitement...thinking for example of those bulging eyes taking in his backside even as it was being blistered and knowing that all that dangled between his legs had been on display.

And there had been that moment when after Gerda had taken a long time to spread cream on each of his cheeks- him still bent at the table- and ordered him to step outside and stand in the corridor, he had turned and walked to the door- past the three standing girls eyes popping and the seated Mrs Ellroy- with his hammer hard tallywhacker pointing the way. Yes, as a result of the treatment with cream, defiantly stiff.

All eyes had been on it.

On its swollen head...

its veiny stem...

...its fat dorsal artery.

That night he left Mrs Ellroy at the trolley bus stop to work off his bruised feelings at the YMCA. "I'll have a nice tea ready when you get home," she had said to him buying an Evening News from the paper boy, the front page about the dock strike and riots in Africa. "A rich bone marrow stew, to build up those lovely muscles of yours."

He blushed at being reminded- that his landlady had seen more of his body than up to now, even when she had scrubbed his rear in the bathroom. That she had glimpsed him today full frontal, naked...and with a raging boner.

Oh god, there had been the final moment of the visit when he had been pressed against the wallpaper and Mrs Ellroy had emerged with Jack's clothes over her arm, and Patricia with his work boots, and the two girls. All four had surrounded him and cooed "oh, goodness" and "my oh my" and "poor, poor boy" and "oh, I bet that's sore" as they stared at his bum cheeks.

"Look at that...that line," said one of the girls- it might have been Georgina- and ran a finger along a welt that crossed both of his glutes. It made him flinch with the pain.

"She certainly laid into him," said Patricia with the authority of an insider. "I've never seen her stronger with a boy. Look how red she made...it...made them!"

They giggled, at his expense.

"Them."

His two cheeks...

...on display...

...for their inspection.

In the smelly change room at the Y, with soiled underwear and grease-stained overalls hanging from hooks and old shoes littering the floor, Jack caught one glimpse of his red bottom in a mirror and decided he could not go in the pool or the gym. The showers with their grimy tiles and rusty nozzles were deserted. He stood and let water cool his buttocks. Suddenly in his side vision he noted a muscle man appear. Jack panicked. He dropped his gaze and moved hurriedly in a crabwise shuffle without revealing his shameful, blazing cheeks. He hobbled to the darkness of the steam room where there were about 20 towels hanging by the entrance.

Jack drew open the creaking metal door and was embraced by the thick, sour-smelling steam mixed with the sweat of the relaxing athletes. As he released the door behind him he felt it being pulled away- he guessed, by the muscle man who had appeared in the showers.

Someone had drapped a hand towel over the single light globe. In the darkness it was hard to make out the seated figures, especially after the man following him- his silhouette showed him to have a build like hewn granite carved in a V shape- had closed the door, and Jack stumbled over stretched calves and thighs before falling into a vacant space on the bench. Ouch! His painful globes made contact with the surface- greasy with sweat and condensation- and he had a vague sense of the man who had followed him falling into place by his side.

The steam wheezed. Every few minutes the machinery pumped more foul smelling grey matter into the fetid space.

One of the figures cleared his throat. Another heaved a big breath.

And there was a return to silence broken only by the whizz and splutter of the steam.

"Hot enough for yer?" asked someone.

His buddy snorted his agreement that it was indeed hot.

Jack sunk into the humid anonymity. He reflected on the shaming he'd suffered. Emerging from the screen in his Y fronts and being ordered to peel them off...that was terrible. In front of the girls and Mrs Ellroy...how awful. Standing there stripped...them looking.

He relived it.

His cock stretched.

Lying over Gerda's lap, knowing they could see all his rear...that she could feel his stiffness...hell! Pressing into her knees! Did that really happen to him?

That big dorsal artery filled out. His bellend was now out of his bunched foreskin, looking around...

And standing bent over the desk knowing they could see what hung between his thighs...their eyes popping at the sight of his things swinging as the strap lashed him...

Now in the darkness, stimulated by his recollections, his tallywhacker began to lift.

Jack relived that walk to the door...his cock ramrod hard and pointing the way...with them all looking...seeing it all.

Now in the steam, as he relived his humiliation, Jack felt his cock stand up again.

He dreamt of his riveting shame in the corridor...being exposed naked as the mother and her errant son and his sister had walked right past...and his red globes on display for Mrs Ellroy and the girls while he pressed himself to the wallpaper to hide his erection...

Then suddenly he felt the thigh of the muscle man next to him touch ever so gently his own upper leg...

The faintest touch...

...and hesitate for a moment, just grazing him...

...and relax into place, to just rest there, barely touching.

Jack was shocked. He felt a warm feeling in his inner being.

The leg felt...cosy.

And he didn't want to offend the guy by pulling away. Besides...he kinda liked it...but no, that was a bit queer...queer- and he quickly flung the thought from his mind. The bloke must have dozed off, it was accidental.

In the next second the man lent more of his thigh against Jack's...

And the thigh was warm, muscled, spiked with damp fur...and the man flexed...yes, he flexed! His huge thigh! Bulging with muscle!

At that moment Jack was lost.

Driven by an instinct he didn't recognise, he relaxed his own thigh into that of the companion...who responded by decisively giving Jack the full length of his upper leg, flexed and firm, pressed hard- insistent- against the full length of Jack's.

Jack throbbed with some unknown excitement.

At that moment a brace of the males got up and trooped from the room with matey snorts of "Had enough, sport!" And "All I can take!"

As the first of them opened the door, light fell for a few seconds on Jack's groin...just long enough perhaps for his unseen neighbour to glimpse Jack's rigid equipment at full stand. Veins on the stem like a roadmap. Big bellend at tumid strength. With the light flooding in he withdrew his thigh.

Then as the last of the weight trainers trooped into the showers the door slammed shut. Darkness returned. Another big heave of steam from the pipes deepened Jack's invisibility.

The sloppy bench space around them was now empty.

The thigh of he muscle man returned- just swung back into place, as if that's where it belonged- pressing even firmer. It felt...electric. The man made his muscles tighten again, right along his thigh where it touched Jack's own. It made Jack tremble.

Jack heard a whisper in his ear, "Can't send you out there with that!"

And then...he felt his neighbour's hand forcefully- as if he owned it- grip his cock!

Grasp his stem!

Jack jolted.

And then...the stranger moved his fist!

Up and down!

Spreading the turgid sweat...and Jack's bubbling emissions...and the condensed moisture...in a greasy lubrication, up and down the stem. Gooey as Brylcreem.

In the dark, in the steam, Jack melted.

The grip tightened.

Jack came close to gasping.

A few strokes more...

...up and down...

...the thick moisture...

he felt something rising...

...this was the moment...

...then noiselessly, Jack exploded...

with a volcanic tide of thick white fluid...

...big shoots flying like fireworks and splashing all around him and dousing his torso. The incriminating smell- like lemon-flavoured washing powder- filled the air.

As if in celebration, at that very moment the pipes snorted a big gust of steam into the chamber.

Jack doubled over, gasping.

His companion gave Jack's cock a squeeze, almost a comradely gesture, a sailor lending a hand to a bunk mate. Fellas together, like a couple of cowboys, helping one another relieve the pressure with their fire fading outside and the prairie night enclosing their cosy tent.

Jack found himself muttering, "Thank you." Then he felt stupid.

"What mates are for," said the anonymous figure. "Just what mates are for."

He patted Jack's knee.

"Well, home to wifey."

The muscle man rose and shook himself. Then he strode to the door. As he exited in a cloud of steam Jack caught a second's glimpse of his V shaped back with deep musculature. "By the firm that made Stonehenge," he recalled one of the old blokes in the gym saying as a muscle man walked by. Might it have been...this muscle man? Buttocks, too, that looked carved from granite. The ducks bum haircut? He had seen it before too...

Something occurred to Jack- a threatening, radical, thrilling thought. But he cast it from his mind, like a fielder catching a ball and flinging it instantly.

Jack slumped. Several of the anonymous companions got up, shook themselves and headed out the door.

"As much as I can take."

"Good for yer, but."

"Yeah, gets rid of the grime."

They bumped into others entering.

"Holy fuck! They make it hot!"

"Hot as hell!"

A newcomer whipped the towel from the light bulb and suddenly they could see one another.

"That's better. Can't have any hanky panky."

One of the nudes, who Jack recognised as a former commando, took a hose and sprayed down the tiled benches. Jack lifted his rear to help the water flush away the sweat and his recent deposit.

The new arrivals started a conversation about England bowler Jim Laker and the need for money to fix the dilapidated stands at Old Trafford

Another couple talked about the new Armstrong Siddeley Limousine which was said to be the first British car with power assisted steering.

"I work at Ford so I'm crook that Coventry beats Manchester again."

Behind Jack there was a scramble and a lanky young man slid into the space in his right.

He had a crew cut and freckles.

"Hey," he blurted. "You the blokey was in Gerda Halloway's this afternoon? I saw yer going in for yer spanking. Me- I was the fella in the corridor. The nude fella."

His name was Garry Stinson and he said his mother and sister had made him a regular at the establishment.

He spread his white hairless legs. His thick, long penis arranged itself in his thighs. It had an industrial strength artery down the middle even bigger than Jack's.

He saw Jack's look and laughed.

"Yeah, that's it, matey. Gerda has her favourites, and first and foremost, guys like us with fat lobcocks."

He nodded at Jack's. And picked his up like a piece of butcher's meat and shook it.

Lowering his voice to a whisper he said, "Your first time, was it? Lemme give you a tip or two. About visits to Gerda's. Be quick to strip off as soon as you hit her room. She likes to get us raw, bare, starkers. Loves naked fellas. And if you want to avoid a real savage strapping, get good and stiff as quick as yer can. And over her knee..."

Jack looked over his shoulder. But the others were still talking cricket and cars. As if by mutual consent Jack and Garry got up and headed out to the showers.

Jack's lookaround confirmed the muscle man had gone. Garry and he stood together under the water, taking swipes at one another's backsides, Jack's far redder than his companion's.

"...yep, over her knee and press it down real hard...let her feel it...and yer know what? The spanking becomes a light 'once over'...although she keeps it up for a real long time, letting yer shift it around on her lap...it's real nice...real sexy, all the pressure building up...yer bum stops hurting and it becomes a sweet stinging feeling... fuckin' fantastic, if yer ask me. Once she let her skirt ride up and I had my tallywhacker thrust over her bare skin!"