Mr. One Fifty-Eight Ch. 02

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tazemebro
tazemebro
156 Followers

In one way, you could say he was already very experienced, having served and serviced his former roommate for the better part of nine months. On the other hand, there were lots of things he had never tried, and he had only had two sex partners, plus two disciplinarians. There was a lot still to learn.

Chris wrenched his eyes away from the slobbering sub, and went back into the sling room, which was still empty. From there, he reentered the foggy main hall. He saw four or five men stripping down, putting their clothes on hangers, then letting the chubby doorman draw a letter on them. Three of them bent over to take an 's' on the ass. The other was the shortest guy there, at about 5'5". He was marked as a Dom, but he couldn't be BoyPunisher, who was 6'1".

Chris started to feel more self-conscious about walking around nude in front of all these strangers, and decided to stay in this misty room for a while and wait. If his date didn't show up quickly, it might get tough to find him – so it was also better to stay near the entrance and try and scope him out. Chris sat down on one of the benches and leaned back against the wall, shuddering at its coldness against his bare skin. He watched curiously as the four guys wandered off to different rooms. From his vantage point, he could now see the bar – it was a counter right behind the office where the clothes were kept, and near the bathroom. There was a bottle of vodka on it, and some OceanSpray cranberry juice. Chris wondered if there was a fridge behind the bar – there must be.

He settled in, marveling that he was here at all. Sure, he'd had plenty of dark and dirty fantasies, but he couldn't have imagined coming to a place like this a few months ago. Thank Mr. Fitzsimmons for helping him out of his funk. And BoyPunisher for being so cool. Chris had developed a little crush on the online Dom, who was only a year older than he.

Another guy came through the turnstile. Chris sighed – not tall enough.

Chris did his best to blend into the background, although the new and unmistakable sound of leather repeatedly meeting flesh made him want to go see who was getting beaten, and where. He was torn . . . he had no idea what time it was, so no indication of whether he was being stood up or not. He could always ask the doorman.

Chris walked across the room during a lull in the traffic. He poked his head in the little ticket office, which seemed so bright compared to the rest of the place.

"Leaving already, kid?"

"No, Sir, just wondering what time it is."

"9:35," the man replied just as a couple came to the window. Chris glanced up quickly, then retreated. Both were way over 22. What if BoyPunisher had lied about his age? Fuck.

Chris stood indecisively for a minute.

"Come here often?"

A handsome man with very white teeth and short brown hair who looked to be in his thirties was leaning against the bar, smiling. There was a 'D' on his chest.

"Um, no, Sir," Chris replied.

"First time?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You don't need to call me Sir yet," the stranger laughed. "Just relax. Want a beer?"

"Yes, that would be great, thank you."

The man leaned over the bar and pulled a bottle from the refrigerator.

"Here." They clinked bottles.

"Thanks."

"So just hanging out, huh?" the stranger said, making conversation.

"Actually, I'm supposed to meet someone. I don't think he's here yet."

"You don't think?"

"Well, it's so dark everywhere. And we can't text – no phones."

"Yeah, I like that rule. Makes you pay attention to what's going on around you. Also, can't take pictures. More discreet for everyone. You met this guy before?"

"Um . . . no."

The man laughed. "Hot! Love that. You'll have a great time here. I'm going to go see who's getting their ass whipped. Wanna come?" The sound of spanking continued to waft gently into the main room.

"Sure."

Chris followed the stranger to the room with the St. Andrew's crosses. The one on their level was empty; but above, on the platform, one of the subs Chris had seen enter earlier was strung up on the wooden frame. It wasn't a spanking actually, it was a flogging. The older man in the leather jock strap, who had been arranging the cabinet before, was steadily whipping the sub's back with a single tail whip. Chris had never seen that before, and was immediately drawn in.

"Go upstairs and get a better look," his companion said, noticing Chris' interest.

The boy walked upstairs. The sub was spread-eagle on the cross, and both ankles and wrists were fastened to the wood with leather cuffs. He had an average build, and pale skin; his back, and especially his shoulders, showed a network of red welts. The stern man whipping him was rhythmic and steady, and seemed to be gradually increasing the force of each stroke. The sub was gasping, but not yelling; the regular THUNKK of the whip had mesmerized a crowd of about eight guys. This was much better than any of the pornos.

Chris found a wall to hold up, and watched, entranced. He had never been flogged, or had a whip used on his buttocks; he wasn't sure this was something he wanted to try, but it sure as fuck was hot to look at. He glanced around the room to see if anyone might be BoyPunisher. There was one guy who might be the right height, but he looked too old. He did have a 'D' on his smooth chest, though. Chris looked again; the guy wasn't making eye contact. Hmm. Chris lowered his gaze a few feet and stared, trying to remember exactly what BoyPunisher's cock had looked like. He couldn't really compare; this guy's was soft, and the pic had been of a long, thin hard one with shaved pubes. And pubes could grow in; Chris didn't know how old the pic had been. The torso might be a match, but didn't seem as well defined as Chris remembered.

What a drag – this was going to be hard. Chris remembered what the doorman said: maybe you'll find someone better. He looked over at the Dom he had been talking to. He wasn't bad. Chris smiled at him shyly, then turned his attention back to the whipping on the St. Andrew's cross.

Wow, how long was this going to go on? The sub was uttering little cries now, but didn't seem to be wearing out. Damn, that was impressive. Chris glanced around. Everyone in the room was watching, and seemed to be turned on. Was this how the frat guys had reacted while they had watched Chris get paddled by Justin that night?

Yeah, probably was . . . if any of them had been GAY PERVERTS, Chris thought wryly. And stop thinking of Justin. The whole point of this exercise is to distract yourself from all that. True, that would be much easier if your fucking new friend would show up . . .

The whipping continued unabated, and the sub was beginning to writhe. Deciding to move on, Chris descended the stairs to the main level, and peeked into the sling room. Someone in a leather cap was pounding a heavyset guy. Chris turned back to the fog room. He momentarily regretted not staying with the other Dom – he wanted another beer. Oh well. If BoyPunisher ever showed up, maybe he'd have some booze.

Chris took a seat on a bench, his semi-hard dick shrinking back to normal. He still couldn't figure out whom he was supposed to be meeting, and there were about a dozen guys in here now, some just disrobing. He guessed it was just ten o'clock. He felt annoyed and bored, and wished he could at least play with his phone. Might as well take a piss. He walked into the bathroom – there were a couple of cute boys there, but both had 's' written on their rear end.

I wonder what the sub/Dom ratio usually is here, he thought as he watered the urinal. Idly considering asking the doorman, he walked back into the main room, and gave it one more once-over. Huh. Had he missed it before? There was someone sitting in the big chair. A guy with a hood on.

Chris immediately wished he had thought of that. He'd been doing ok so far, just wandering around naked with his little prick out, but imagined he'd feel even more comfortable with his face covered.

It did seem weird, though, that a sub was sitting in the chair. The hood had round eyeholes and a slit at the mouth – for cocksucking purposes, Chris figured.

Curious, he wandered a little closer, and saw that the guy had a 'D' on his smooth chest.

Oh! Chris pondered that. I guess I have seen plenty of Doms with hoods on in videos. I don't know why I assumed . . .

Chris checked out the rest of the seated man. He wasn't huge, but very fit. Nice pecs, arms, and abs. He had hairy legs, lean rather than overly muscular, descending into what looked like very worn, blue Nikes. The guy's underwear was the same color as the sneakers. Was he wearing a jock? Hard to tell when the man was seated, but it was shiny, like it was a speedo or something. He might have an athletic gear fetish. Chris looked up again at the guy's masked face. The man looked back.

Chris averted his eyes quickly, but not before he noticed the man crook a finger.

Was he beckoning?

He was. Chris turned around. Nobody was standing behind him. He turned back; the man in the chair pointed at him, and beckoned again. Chris walked over obediently. Was this his date? And if it was, was he going to keep his hood on all night? Chris started to feel nervous. What if this was some older creep?

He stood in front of the masked figure and looked his crotch, which was at eye level. The guy's legs were spread, and the underwear was indeed some kind of speedo, but one that had a separate pouch to contain the cock. The guy's equipment looked enormous pushed out like that. BoyPunisher had said he was 8 inches and cut. Chris looked up the seated man's body. No way to be 100% sure, but the chest was smooth, the nipples were small, and from this close, he could see the abs were very clearly defined. Yeah, this was probably the one.

"BoyPunisher?"

The masked man snapped his fingers, and pointed at his shoes.

"Are you BoyPunisher, Sir?"

The man snapped his fingers again.

Chris took a stab at what might be required, and kissed the top of each sneaker. As he did, he caught the faint whiff of a heady, locker room scent. Chris started to get hard. He looked up again.

"Please Sir, are you Mr. BoyPunisher?" Chris felt vaguely ridiculous asking that way, but turned on. The masked head nodded. "Please to meet you, Sir." Chris kissed the guy's feet again. He was still a little concerned that the mask might conceal either a much older or uglier face than he'd been hoping for, but he would go with it for now. If it didn't seem to be working out, he could always disappear in this place. Or glom on to another Dom. But the guy's body was very nice, no question.

Chris looked up, awaiting another sign, or a spoken order. BoyPunisher pointed at his feet again.

Ok, no problem, Chris thought. Quickly glancing around to see if anyone was watching (not yet), he sat on one of the low stools, which put the Dom's feet on the same plane as his mouth. He kissed slowly all over the tops of both sneakers, and then, looking up for permission, he started to unlace them. First the right one; he untied it and gently slipped it off the large, narrow foot in front of him. He plunged his face inside the athletic shoe, sucking up the scent hungrily with his nostrils. It smelled delicious. Almost as hot as Justin's old sneakers back in the dorm. Chris sniffed again, then placed the shoe carefully on the wooden ledge.

Looking up again for approval, he removed the other sneaker, and sniffed eagerly. Just as ripe, dank, and hot. Chris was gaining a little confidence, feeling like he was doing the right things. He felt something touch his head – it was BoyPunisher's hand, giving his hair a rub. Chris barked softly, shyly. They had been chatting for so many weeks that they had covered every possible fetish one could have; pup training had come up at least once, and they were both turned on by it, at least the more innocuous aspects. BoyPunisher rubbed Chris' dark blond head again, and the boy began kissing and licking the damp, white, mid-calf socks. The Dom allowed that for a few minutes, and then grabbed Chris' head with both hands, positioning it so the boy's neck was extended and halfway between his feet. BoyPunisher's hands descended, and Chris felt something being slipped around his neck, tightening. He heard the sound of metal; it was a collar. BoyPunisher was buckling it on. Chris rolled his eyes up to look at the hood; BoyPunisher shook his head. Chris lowered his eyes again. He felt a hand grab the front of the collar, and heard a click. Something thin hit his chest lightly, and then was raised up again. He felt a soft tug around his neck. It was a leash.

BoyPunisher pointed at his feet again, and snapped his fingers. Chris started to lick again, but felt another tug on his neck. The finger pointed at the shoes, and the other hand tugged the leash a third time.

"Put them back on you, Sir?" Chris asked.

The man nodded. Chris placed the man's hot feet back in the sneakers with proper care and respect, and laced them up. BoyPunisher stood up on the ledge, and stepped onto the concrete floor, facing Chris. He yanked the leash once, and pushed down on Chris' shoulder with his other hand, simultaneously letting a length of leather drop in front of him. Chris got the idea quickly, and knelt. BoyPunisher ruffled his hair.

Two quick tugs on the leash, and Chris felt himself being pulled up. He stood. A hand repositioned the boy's head so that it was inclined down. Then he felt his head patted once more.

Another tug on the leash, with the other hand extended palm out, moving down. Chris knelt. And two more quick tugs to make Chris rise. The boy barked again like a dog, a little louder this time, and received another gentle pat on the head.

They practiced this twice more. Chris learned to come to heel, and to get up again, all without the Dom saying a word. This was fucking hot. BoyPunisher nodded, and turned around, pulling the leash. Chris walked obediently behind. The tall, slim Dom led him around in circles a few times; now some of the other guys were watching, for sure. Chris blushed, but he also felt very special. Only one of the other subs he had seen had a collar on, and none of them was attached to a guy with such a smoking bod. After a few trips around their half of the fogged room, they stopped in front of the bar.

BoyPunisher looped the end of Chris' leash around a faucet handle, and went behind the counter; he retrieved a Stella from the refrigerator and opened it. After taking a swig, he handed the bottle to Chris, who gratefully took a few swallows. This would loosen him up enough to really enjoy his evening.

His eyes shining with lust, Chris handed the bottle back to BoyPunisher with an appreciative "Woof!"; the Dom took up the leash again, and gave it a firm tug. It was time to move on. Lowering his head again, Chris let himself be led into the room with the St. Andrew's crosses.

BoyPunisher guided Chris through the lower room to the stairs, and pulled him up to the platform level. Chris looked around furtively – there were about fifteen guys up here now. Two dudes were getting blown. The tan guy in the leather jockstrap who had been whipping the sub earlier had a new victim; this one was all about the paddle, though. And it was Lexan. Chris recognized that fearful instrument with a quiver of dread and excitement. The paddle had holes in it, and looked like it would be extremely painful.

WHACK!!

The sub grunted. His ass was already bright pink. The man Chris now thought of as the Whipping Dom paused and rubbed the sub's ass, murmuring something in his ear.

WHACK!!

The sub grunted again and lurched forward, but Chris could now see that he had a hardon. Hot!! The Whipping Dom was taking his time, drawing it out. Clearly, he knew what the fuck he was doing, responding to what each different sub needed or wanted. Chris started to get fully hard himself.

WHACK!!

The guy's punishment made a gripping soundtrack for everyone in that room. BoyPunisher drew Chris to a sofa right opposite the cross, with its back to the lower level. One of the men getting head was on the right end; BoyPunisher planted himself in the middle of the remaining two cushions. He snapped his fingers, and pulled on Chris' leash, indicating his lap.

Oh boy, here we go, Chris thought. He laid himself over BoyPunisher's lap, his feet grazing the young, black cocksucker who was working hard on the guy with the buzz cut. Chris could feel BoyPunisher's cock straining against the speedo's pouch as he got into position – his Dom was hard. Very hard. Good! Chris was glad to know they were both equally into it.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Chris felt the first blows of his spanking raining down on his bare bottom. It hurt, but it hurt good. BoyPunisher was starting off slowly. He placed a firm hand on Chris' neck, holding him down; not that Chris was about to get up. He was loving this. Maybe it was that the hazing at SAE had turned him into a bit of an exhibitionist, maybe it was the beer, but he didn't mind at all if other men were watching him get his ass tanned. Hadn't he licked and sucked seven cocks in front of a webcam that he thought was broadcasting the action to thousands of viewers? That had been the start of the worst/best night of his life – his final night as a fraternity pledge. And yeah, the embarrassment and humiliation were real every time he got disciplined – but he also really got off on it now.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Chris was starting to squirm. The hand spanking was having the intended effect – just painful enough to keep him attentive, but not so brutal that he wasn't turned on. He wished he had something to rub his penis against, but it was hanging short, slim and free between BoyPunisher's legs. Chris settled for sniffing the leather sofa. He could smell sweat for sure, and maybe some other, less sexy things . . . he tried to stretch his neck down so he could get close enough to smell his Dom's feet. BoyPunisher, sensing what he was after, helped him by adjusting his legs and shoving Chris' head down farther. The consequence was that Chris' nuts were now smashed between the Dom's legs.

Actually, that was hot, too. Chris took a deep whiff of what smell he could suck out from where BoyPunisher's sock met his Nikes. Fuck yeah. The sounds of his own spanking and the paddling of the sub on the St. Andrew's cross seemed to drown out everything else. Chris began to lose his sense of time, place, and self, and go deeper into his sub space.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Chris couldn't see his ass, but BoyPunisher could, and the Dom was very pleased at how red it was getting. He kept spanking his boy as Whipping Dom let his own sub off the cross, smiled, and gave him a hug and a pat on the rear. BoyPunisher liked the fact that Chris was enjoying his foot scent. Time to see what else the faggot would enjoy.

BoyPunisher yanked Chris' leash, bringing the boy's neck up to the level of the couch. He positioned his sub so he was kneeling on the ragged rug in front of the leather sofa. With an outstretched palm, he made it clear Chris was to "stay".

Leash in hand, BoyPunisher then turned around and knelt on the sofa, pulled his speedo down to his knees, and stuck his ass out. He yanked Chris' leash again, and pointed at his crack. Chris understood immediately. He leaned forward and sniffed carefully at the proffered treat. But BoyPunisher was impatient. Quickly passing the end of the leash between his legs, he slid his right hand down the braided leather strip to make it shorter, and yanked hard. Chris' nose smashed into BoyPunisher's tailbone.

So much for getting a nice look first, Chris thought. Oh well – this guy is so fucking hot and in control, I don't mind.

tazemebro
tazemebro
156 Followers