Cute Girls

First Timer: The Hand

In rapid succession, Russ slapped Gary’s ass six more times, alternating between the cheeks. With the two previous smacks he’d delivered to Gary’s buttocks, these additional half dozen swats brought the color up in his creamy, smooth buttocks. The flesh was a soft rosy pink. Russ smiled as he raised his hand. He loved this cheerful, pastel color. It imparted a healthy glow to Gary’s behind, making it seem as if his bottom were blossoming. Later, when the pink had turned to red and the red deepened to purple, Gary’s ass would remind Russ more of a ripened fruit–a plum, perhaps–than a blossom. Watching the flesh change colors was one of the things that Russ most liked about spanking another guy.

He brought his raised hand down hard, flattening Gary’s buttocks, and the man who lay naked across his lap lunged forward, crying out with indignation and pain. From his seat on the edge of the bed, Russ could see the profile of Gary’s face in the mirror over the dresser that stood on the wall opposite this side of the bed. His features were distorted with pain. This was the second thing that Russ liked about spanking another man. He enjoyed the expressions of humiliation, fear, ire, apprehension, and anguish. Sometimes one such emotion was all that was displayed on the twisted countenance; sometimes two or more were combined in the same expression; other times, one sentiment followed the next in a whole range of reactions. The physical aspect of administering a spanking was pleasurable in itself, but the changing colors of the victim’s ass and his reactions, both physical and emotional, increased this pleasure a hundredfold.

Russ brought his hand up, over his head, targeting the same spot on Gary’s buttocks upon which he’d delivered the previous smack. With lightning speed, the flat of his hand came down hard upon Gary’s bottom, and the recipient of the spank lurched and cried. His ass was deepening from a soft rosy pink to a cherry red. In the mirror, Russ had watched Gary’s lips part in a grimace that displayed gritted teeth, as deep dimples appeared in his contracted cheeks, his eyes closed tightly, and his brow furrowed. It seemed that Gary had found the latest blow more painful than the previous ones, as well he should: it had been delivered with greater force and upon the exact spot upon which the previous swat had landed.

As Russ raised his arm again, he imagined himself working a dildo between the soft cheeks of the upturned ass awaiting his hand. He saw himself twisting the artificial cock left and right in his hand, to drill its latex glans against Gary’s tight anus. No doubt, Gary would twist and turn, too, trying to avoid the phallus. However, Russ was nothing if not resolute, and he’d persist in rotating the dildo as he thrust it more forcefully into his target until, at last, the fake penis would penetrate Gary’s asshole and slide several inches through his sphincter, into his more accommodating rectum. Russ wouldn’t ease the entry of the dildo with a lubricant. He’d make it as difficult and painful as possible so that Gary would long remember the first time he was penetrated anally. Whether the first time was with a cock or a dildo, one ought to remember it clearly and forever, Russ thought.

His hand landed another stinging smack to Gary’s buttocks, flattening the smooth mounds, and the sufferer again lurched, his stiffening, swelling penis and the contracted pouch of his scrotum sliding over Russ’ own genitals and halfway across his thigh. “Move back down,” Russ commanded.

Gary did as he was told, repositioning himself on the bed so that his groin lay atop his tormentor’s lap.

So far, Gary had endured the spanking without a word. Although he cried out with pain at each smack, his only utterances were ejaculations of interjections: “Ouch!” “Ow!” and “Uh!”

As he returned to his fantasy of impaling Gary’s ass with a dildo, Russ smiled. Before long, Gary would speak as well as whimper. He’d beg Russ to stop. His entreaties, of course, would have the opposite effect than that which Gary intended, enflaming Russ’ bloodlust rather than appeasing it. Gary, like those who’d served Russ before him, must learn this the same way the others had–the hard way. Once he’d inserted the dildo, Russ would pull it back through the skewered anus, leaving only its tip within the wide-stretched ring of muscle. He’d pause, letting Gary feel the rigidity of the phallic object that impaled him. Gary would feel as if he’d been invaded. For a first timer, such a sensation was alarming and quite unlike anything he’d ever experienced or imagined. After a few moments, Russ would jam the artificial cock back through his asshole, all the way into Gary’s rectum, until the fake balls at the base of the man-made prick were shoved firmly against his perineum.

Grinning as he delivered a series of rapid blows to Gary’s ass cheeks, Russ watched the purpling buttocks jump and jiggle. Gary whimpered.

Perhaps, instead of a dildo, when it came time to deflower Gary, Russ would use his own cock. That would be a much more intimate way to accomplish the task of taking his virginity and, for this reason, it might be all the more humiliating to Gary and, therefore, all the more memorable to him as well.

It would be far more enjoyable for Russ, too. He loved the feel of his erect penis sliding between two silk-smooth mounds of flesh. He enjoyed the sensation of his glans’ pressing against a tight, small anus. He adored the feeling of another man’s asshole parting to admit him. It was extremely erotic to ram the shaft of his thick, rigid member through another man’s sphincter and deep into his rectum. In some ways, deflowering another man was more erotic than taking a woman’s virginity, whether vaginal or anal, because, in so doing, one was also taking his manhood. According to society, men did not fuck other men. To do so was taboo. Until recently, it had been criminal. Even with the Supreme Court’s decision that anti-sodomy laws were undue invasions of an individual’s privacy, there remained an unwritten law among most men and women against the act. It was regarded as sinful by many and as immoral by most. The forbidden character of anal intercourse–especially anal intercourse between men–made it all the more seductive and exciting to Russ–and all the more revolting to someone like Gary, who, for the moment, at least, retained his anal virginity.

Another stinging swat, followed by another and a third, brought shrieks of misery from Gary, which were as music to Russ’ ears. Gary’s ass was now altogether red or purple. The colors were beautiful and exciting. The fruit of Gary’s ass was ripe. Russ rained half a dozen more swats down hard upon the upturned buttocks, and Gary, his face screwed up in pain, sang another chorus of interjections.

“I don’t do anal,” Gary had advised Russ in one of the early email messages the two men had exchanged after Russ had seen Gary’s email address listed on a spanking personals web site. He’d reminded Russ of this limit soon after he’d arrived at the motel room. Both times, Russ had reassured Gary that he respected all limits, and, of course, he did. To be fully arousing, the masochistic component of the sadomasochistic dynamic had to be voluntary at each step. The voluntary nature of the submissive partner’s surrender was what made spanking him fun and exciting. Besides, Russ was not a sexual predator. The men who bared their asses to him did so because they wanted–indeed, because they needed–to do so. In due time, with the proper encouragement and reassurances, most of them surrendered themselves completely to Russ. They did whatever he commanded, from sucking his cock to allowing him to fuck them in the ass. Russ had no doubt that Gary would likewise surrender himself completely. By their fourth session, Gary would give up his ass, and Russ’ fantasies about impaling him with a dildo or, better yet, with his own cock would come true.

By fucking Gary, Russ would take away his manhood. He’d reduce him to a piece of ass. Gary wouldn’t be so much feminized as unmanned. He’d be conquered. From that moment on, he’d belong, body and soul, to Russ, and he’d do anything to please him. His will would be broken, and he’d become a servant, even a slave. When that happened, Russ would reevaluate their relationship. It took a man’s man to unman another man, but once this objective was reached, being the master of a spiritually castrated man was less exciting. Sometimes, having an emotional eunuch to serve and to service one was titillating; sometimes, it was not. Russ wasn’t sure what made it exciting in one case and not in another. Maybe it was the degree of devotion and adoration that a slave expressed. With Gary, Russ may or may not wish to continue their association once he’d broken him. He’d deal with that issue when it was time to do so. Meanwhile, he had the thrill of conquering the man whose upended ass lay across his lap.

Russ smacked Gary’s ass six more times, so fast that his hand was a blur: slapslapslapslapslapslap!

“Oh! God!” Gary cried, twisting on the bed. His hand threw itself over his buttocks.

Removing the protective hand, Russ gently patted Gary’s discolored bottom. “Don’t worry,” he reassured his victim. “We’re going to take a short recess–an intermission, if you will.”

Russ’ hand made the rotating, swirling motions over Gary’s ass cheeks that it had made when Gary had first lain across his tormentor’s lap, caressing and massaging the wounded flesh. He spoke in a soft, comforting tone. “You’ve been a good boy, taking your punishment like a man.”

Gary sniffled.

“Yes, you’ve been a real little trooper.” Russ spoke almost as if he would had he been talking to a toddler. In reality, Gary was 55 years old, but, Russ knew, the part of him who wanted to be spanked was a child, and a child, whether five or 55, needed consolation after he’d experienced a painful or traumatic experience, and Russ was good at providing such solace. After all, as a spanker, he’d had years of experience.

Russ gave Gary’s bottom a playful pinch.

Gary squirmed.

Russ pinched him harder.

“Ow!”

His voice still soft, speaking baby talk, Russ said, “You’ve been a very good boy, yes you have, but–” his tone changed, becoming harsh and gruff–”we haven’t even started yet!”

Frightened, Gary tried to turn to face his tormentor, but Russ held him in place with one hand to his back as, reaching past Gary with his other hand, he took the paddle from the night table beside the bed.

The pink flesh of Gary’s buttocks had changed to red, and the red was turning purple. Gary’s ass had not only flowered but also ripened.

It was time, now, for the bruises to begin. . . .

Tags: Fetish, Story