Mr. One Fifty-Eight Ch. 02

WHACK! SLAP! The blows to Chris' swollen ass came fast and furious.

"You're such a fucking embarrassment, with your tiny clit for a dick. Your place is right here, covered in piss, ass open for anyone to fuck you. I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you Donaldson? You'd love to take all comers up your tight little hole."

SLAP! SLAP!

"When I'm done with you, it won't be so tight, faggot. You'll be loose enough to take a fucking fist, you dumb shit!"

The anger in Mason's voice made Chris truly afraid. How in the hell was he going to get out of this? He tried to yell again, but doubted anyone could hear him with his face at the bottom of the trough.

Suddenly, the spanking stopped again. Had Mason had enough? Chris tried to catch his breath; if he was going to be moved again, that was his best chance to break away.

"Hey man," said yet another unfamiliar voice. Chris tried to shout again, praying the new guy would hear him through the gag.

"All right if I take a piss?" the stranger asked.

"Absolutely, he'll love it, the little whore," Mason replied. "Aim right for his head."

Chris jumped as a hot stream hit his scalp. It felt like a water cannon, the flow was so heavy. He felt the liquid run down the back of his neck, and trickle under his face.

"MMMPPHHH!!" Chris yelled.

"Feisty little fucker, isn't he," he heard the urinating man say.

"Yeah, he's a handful," Mason replied. "Soak him good, he deserves it."

"You got it, stud."

The piss shower went on for what felt like an eternity, thoroughly wetting Chris' head and forehead. His face was at an angle so that the golden liquid ran past his nose without getting in it, but he sure as fuck could smell it. Finally it stopped. Chris didn't hear any other voices. The man must have walked away, leaving him alone with Mason.

Sure enough, hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up. Chris felt himself wrapped in an uncomfortable bear hug.

"Did you enjoy that, faggot? Being the lowlife scum you deserve to be?"

Chris held still. Maybe if he stopped reacting, Mason would go easier on him. Or get bored.

"What do you have to say for yourself, clitboy? I know what I'm gonna do now." Mason lifted the boy up. "You're goin' in the fuckin' pit, you bitch, and I'm opening the trough drain. I'm going to leave you in there all night, and watch the piss get deeper and deeper around your faggot ass. And then when you're cold, wet, desperate, and begging, then I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you so hard you'll feel my cock coming out of your mouth. And then anyone else in the club can have your ass, too."

Chris started to struggle again, but it was no use. Mason laughed nastily.

"No one's gonna save you this time, you little shit. There's no roommate here to come rescue you. No one's gonna pull you out of this hole except me, and that'll only be when I can hear you beg through your piss-soaked gag."

Chris bucked against Mason as he felt himself being lowered into the hole in the corner of the room.

"NO!!" Chris yelled, and suddenly, Mason dropped him. The pit was narrow enough that he bounced against the opposite wall before landing. He collapsed onto his knees. The bottom was concrete and wet. Holy fuck.

From above, he heard Mason sneering at him, and then another voice say something indistinct.

"Hey!"

That was Mason again, yelling. What was happening?

"Don't let go of him," a deep voice commanded. Chris tried to stand up, but lost his balance.

"Are you all right?" the deep voice called down. "Chris, is that you?"

Chris nearly passed out with relief. For the second time that night, he recognized a man's voice. It was Mark.

"Try and stand up again, Chris. Easy does it."

Chris rose unsteadily to his feet, and felt strong fingers undoing his blindfold. The room was so dark, it didn't make any difference at first. The fingers moved down to the gag, and removed it.

"Mark?" Chris croaked. "How . . ."

"Hang on, kiddo. He's got you tied up real good. I'm gonna have to come down there with you. Don't move."

Dimly Chris saw a shape crouch above him, and then he felt a warm body close behind; Mark's broad, hairy chest was pressed against Chris' shoulder blades, and the boy felt the older man's thick, uncut cock tap his raw bottom. Mark fumbled with the knot, and eventually got it untied.

"There, can you get out now?"

"Don't think so, my ankles are tied, too."

"Ah fuck, I'm sorry, Chris. Hang on." Before he bent down to unfasten Chris' feet, he yelled up, "Don't let that guy go, Brad, you hear me?"

"I got him," came the reply from above.

Mark removed the rope from Chris' ankles, and wrapped his strong arms around the boy's thighs.

"I'm going to lift you up, Chris. Then you can pull yourself out." Chris rose slowly from the pit, and realized it was only about six feet deep. Once he was able to put his hands on the rim and get a good grip, he raised himself out of it. In the dim light, he saw Mason, still hooded, struggling in the arms of a powerfully-built man with a military haircut. Chris took a step forward, propping himself against the wall, and Mark emerged behind him.

"Thank God you were here," Chris whispered, fear giving way to confusion and shame at having let himself get into such a bad situation.

"Are you ok, Chris? Anything feel like it's broken or sprained from when he dropped you down there?"

Chris felt his legs and arms, shivering slightly, and took another couple of steps. No, the only thing that hurt was his ass.

"I'm ok," he answered.

"Good. I'll check you out in a minute," Mark said, "but first I have to deal with this piece of shit."

Mark turned to Mason, and raised his voice.

"What in the hell were you thinking, you dumb punk? Couldn't you tell your sub was trying to get you to stop?"

"Get your hands off of me," Mason said angrily to Brad. "We were just having fun. It was all prearranged. Wasn't it, boy?" Mason glared at Chris.

"Do you know this guy, Chris?" Mark asked.

"Yeah."

"Did you arrange to meet him tonight?"

"Yeah," Chris said sheepishly.

"And were you ok with what he was doing to you?"

Chris looked Mason right in the eyes.

"Absolutely not. I've been trying to get him off me for half an hour. It started ok, but he went way overboard."

"I see," Mark said. He reached over to Mason's head, and grabbed the bottom of the hood.

"Stop it! You have no right . . ." Mason struggled to break free of the body builder's grip, but failed. Mark ripped off the mask, and looked at Mason's contorted red face with contempt.

This guy may think he's handsome, Mark thought, but his eyes are too far apart and no one looks good curling their lip like that.

"Bring him out into the lobby," Mark told his friend, and Brad hustled Mason through the mat room and sling room, while Mark moved to help Chris.

"I can walk fine, I'm just a little shaken," Chris said, smiling faintly. "Man, I have never been so glad to hear someone's voice in my life."

Mark put a hand on Chris' shoulder and squeezed it, gently propelling him past a group of staring, naked men. Brad and Mason were standing just outside the door. It was much brighter in here after the pit, and Chris looked up at Mason's sneering face.

You crazy fucker, Chris thought, unable to believe he had been corresponding with his old RA for six weeks. When will you stop persecuting me? And how in the hell did you even know about this place?

A small crowd had gathered to watch the young, tall jock with a 'D' drawn on his toned chest being restrained by a superb, 30-something hunk of manflesh.

"Will you let go of me?" Mason whined. "How in the hell is any of this your business anyway? You can't just horn in on me and my sub."

Mark spoke evenly, with restrained fury. "Your 'sub' didn't look like he was having a very good time. I watched him struggle with you as you held his head down in the trough and let someone piss on him, and then you fucking picked him up and dumped him in the pit. His arms and legs were both tied. He could have broken a bone or gotten a concussion."

The surrounding crowd began to buzz.

"This isn't your private playground, kid," Mark continued with disdain. "This is an adult sex club, where REAL men engage in CONSENSUAL activity, and where they either know what the FUCK they're doing, or they're here to learn. You could have seriously injured this young man, and you're acting like it's MY fault I stopped you?"

"What the fuck do you care, man," Mason snapped. "He's MY sub. You don't even know him."

"Actually, I do know him. He's my friend. And if I'd caught you mistreating him like that on the street, YOU'D be the one with an injury." Mark's deep blue eyes flashed dangerously, but Mason was not backing down.

"Oh, he's your friend, huh? Yeah, I bet. He's probably sucked your cock, am I right?" Chris blushed. "And everyone else's here, too, probably. He's a real talented little whore, isn't he?"

"Watch your mouth, boy," Brad growled into Mason's ear, and pulled the frat boy's elbows back so they were nearly touching. Mason grimaced in pain.

"What's going on here?" Whipping Dom joined the small circle around Mason. "Is there a problem?"

"This fucking brute won't let go of me," Mason spat before anyone else could speak.

"Brad, let him down," the tanned man in the leather jock said in a firm voice. "Mark, what's the problem?"

The body builder released Mason's elbows, but kept one bicep firmly in his grip.

"There was a bad scene, Leo," Mark said, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb other patrons' activities any more than they had already. "This kid Brad is holding was meeting a friend of mine here, and things got out of hand. That guy wasn't being safe."

"This your friend?" Leo asked, indicating Chris.

Mark nodded.

"Yeah, I saw them a little bit ago," Leo said. He turned to Mason. "I told you you needed to check in with your sub," he said severely. "He was yelling at you to slow down when you were whipping him before. That's why I stopped you. What happened?" Leo turned to Chris.

"Um . . . that was you that stopped the beating? Thanks . . ." Chris said hoarsely. "After he was done whipping me, he dragged me into that room back there and tied me up and tried to fuck me. I tried to get him to stop, because that wasn't something we'd agreed to do, but I was gagged . . ."

"Did you have a safe word?" Leo asked.

"Yeah."

"And did you try to use it?"

Chris nodded.

"Even if your boy was gagged, you should have been able to hear him yelling, and checked in to see what was the matter," Leo said, turning to Mason. "Fuck, I already told you I could hear him trying to talk to you when he was gagged on the cross. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"It's none of your business," Mason replied coldly.

"I saw this punk drag Chris into the dark room," Mark added. "He pushed his head into the urinal, Chris was obviously struggling, and then this prick picked Chris up and dropped him in the pit, bound hand and foot. Could have broken something. Absolutely no care or precautions, just dumped him."

Leo looked livid.

"Are you insane, boy," he said softly. "There is no excuse for that. We don't allow that kind of shit in here. You will never set foot in this club again."

"You can't ban me," Mason sneered, "you're probably not even the owner. And I'm leaving anyway." Mason jerked his head at Chris. "Give me my collar and leash back, fag."

"As a matter of fact," Leo replied menacingly, "I am the fucking co-owner, and I don't like your fucking tone. I was going to send you to collect your clothes, but I have no patience with spoiled brats like you who play at being Doms. I'm going to teach you EXACTLY how to beat a submissive, AND how to respond when your submissive is gagged, so that if some other club ever lets you in, which I doubt, you'll know how to FUCKING do it."

"Yeah, I saw you whipping boys earlier," Mason said dismissively. "I don't have anything to learn from you."

Leo didn't bother to reply, but turned to Mark and Chris.

"I don't want any more of his lip. What did you do with that gag?"

"I think I dropped it in the pit," Mark answered.

"I'll get it," said Chris. Anticipating what was coming, he suddenly felt energized.

"Good man," Leo replied. "So that's his collar, huh?" He reached over and unbuckled the leather from Chris' neck, leaving the leash attached.

"Hold him still, Brad." The body builder grabbed Mason's other arm as Leo fixed the collar tightly around the culprit's neck. "Let's get this punk into the bathroom." Leo yanked firmly on the leash, and Mason was compelled to follow. As they passed the small front office, Leo stuck his head in. "Fred, hand me that sharpie, will you?"

Chris jogged quickly through the two rooms and stooped back under the low doorway into the pit room. He let his eyes adjust, and made his way carefully to the corner.

"Here, grab my hand. I'll lower you down."

Chris jumped. It was Mark. Chris took his friend's hand, and scrambled down the side of the pit, balancing himself against the other wall. He felt around on the grimy floor, and quickly found the blindfold, two short lengths of rope, and Mason's now muddy and wet underwear.

"Ok," Chris called softly.

Mark helped him back out.

"Are you sure you're ok, Chris?"

"Just dirty. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry I didn't stop it earlier, Chris. I should have gone with my gut as soon as I saw him dragging you. I just . . . didn't want to interrupt if you were into it."

"It's ok, I'm fine. You saved me."

They retraced their steps, and found Leo and Brad in the bathroom, roughly scrubbing Mason's chest. The frat boy looked furious; several onlookers looked amused.

"That oughta do it," Leo growled. The 'D' was now barely visible on Mason's chest, which had been scrubbed raw. "Turn the bitch around."

"Get your FUCKING hands off of me!" Mason yelled, which only drew a bigger audience.

"Good, you're back," Leo said to Chris. He stretched out his hand for the gag.

"Don't you dare put that filthy thing – " That was all Mason got out before his dirty, sweaty, pissy underwear was shoved onto his own tongue.

"No filthier than the mouth it's in, punk," Leo said. Chris smiled. This night was definitely getting better. Leo tied the underwear in Mason' mouth just as it had been in Chris'. Brad deftly turned the frat boy around, and Leo drew a big 's' on each of Mason's ass cheeks. Then he drew a 'u' and a 'b' to complete the word on each buttock for good measure.

"Just in case anyone has any doubt what that stands for, boy," Leo added, and nodded at Brad, who pushed Mason's jaw around so that he could see his ass in the mirror. The erstwhile Dom sputtered through the gag.

"Alright, let's take this piece of shit upstairs." Leo and Brad muscled Mason back through the growing crowd. In no time they were back at the St. Andrew's cross, and quickly secured Mason's wrists and ankles to it. Chris, Mark, and a dozen other guys were close behind.

"Ok, boy," Leo snapped at Mason, "I'm going to give the man you thought you could abuse unsafely the first crack at your pathetic ass."

Mason started shaking with rage, trying futilely to escape.

"Would you like to give him what he deserves?" Leo asked Chris.

"Yup. I would. I sure would," Chris replied.

"Good man." Leo and Mark both smiled. "That's a particularly nasty one," Leo said, pointing to a long and heavy wooden paddle with about twenty holes drilled in it.

Chris wasted no time, and picked it out of the cabinet. There were a few gasps and murmurs around the platform, as more guys tried to see what was happening. Chris walked over to Mason, and held the wicked paddle in front of his former RA's face. He leaned in close, so his lips were almost touching Mason's ear; he could smell the frat boy's sweat, as well as the rank piece of cloth in his oppressor's mouth.

Chris whispered slowly: "You. Are. So. FUCKED."

Chris backed up to Mason's side as Leo shooed the other men away.

"Give him room to swing," Leo said sternly. Then, to Chris: "Hit him as hard as you want, bud."

Mason shivered. Inarticulate sounds came from behind the gag. Leo turned to the former RA. "Don't worry, I won't let anybody harm you. Because that's what a REAL Dom does. I can promise you, though, that I will personally make sure you suffer as much as you possibly can tonight for what you did to that young man." Mason started to whimper.

"Go for it," Leo said to Chris.

Chris took the paddle with both hands, and gave it a few practice swings. Every time the heavy wood SWISHED right up to Mason's bare ass and stopped short, the snotty frat boy flinched.

Mark chuckled. There was more to Chris than met the eye.

Chris surveyed his tormentor's spread-eagled body, completely naked except for his socks and shoes – the lean rippling muscles of his back, the strong, sinewy, hairy legs, and the firm rise of Chris' target: Mason's pale, white buttocks. Confident he would give the punk a paddling to remember, Chris swung for real.

CRACKKKK!!

"AAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH!!"

There were hoots and cheers from the audience.

Holy shit, Mark thought, the kid isn't playing!

Chris waited, letting the pain sink in. He gave a few more practice swings, just to fuck with Mason.

This is for what you did to me last spring, he thought, and swung as hard as he could.

CRACKKK!!

"FFLLBBBRRRRGGHHHH!!"

Mason's butt was already pink and reddening after just two swats. More cheers from the crowd. They had no idea what had happened before, but they were happy to be entertained as a tall 22-year-old boy with a swimmer's build got his ass handed to him.

CRACKKK!!

Mason yelled again at Chris' full-force hit. He turned his head to Leo, babbling through his gag, pleading for mercy.

Leo looked at him unsympathetically.

"What's that? I can't hear you." Leo turned away, and nodded at Chris.

CRACK!!

Mason yelled in agony. Chris smiled. He had deliberately hit a little lower this time.

Hurts like a bitch on your thighs, don't it, Chris thought. He could see little red marks starting to blossom on the outsides of Mason's cheeks. He paused again so that the frat boy could process a bit more of the pain, then sauntered back over to whisper in his ear.

"Think you can take 158 of those, Mr. SAE Vice President? Think you can handle as much as I did?"

Chris ran a finger down Mason's trembling ribs, and reached over to the bound boy's crotch.

"Not so hard now, are you . . . 'Sir'?" Chris gave Mason's nuts a rough squeeze, causing him to yelp, and Leo to laugh. Chris took a few steps back.

Then, without warning:

CRACKKK!! CRACKKK!! CRACKKK!!

Three swats in quick succession, still two-handed and full-force. Chris was enjoying this. Mason's chest was heaving, and it sounded like he was wailing. Chris glanced at Leo, who appraised the boy tied to the cross. After five seconds, the wailing diminished; after another five, Leo nodded at Chris again.

CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKK!! THUD!!

Mason's anguished scream was drowned out by the crowd, which burst into cheers and laughter. Chris started to grin as well. He had broken the paddle. He bent down to collect the other half, and glanced over at Mark, who looked both amused and shocked.

Chris gave both halves to Leo, who also looked surprised.

"I'm very sorry I broke it. I didn't mean to," Chris said, hoping he himself was not now in trouble in this crazy world of immediate, on-the-seat-of-the-pants justice.

"Well . . ." Leo growled. Chris turned pink. But the older man smiled. "I think under the circumstances . . . Go ahead and choose another one, but for Christ's sake, don't break it this time."