Supermodel Monroe overcomes a bad childhood. Revisiting that childhood turns out to be a very bad idea!
What makes a man into a submissive? Why does anyone crave punishment at the hands of another? Brett Monroe has been to hell and back, and it’s left him with some strange compulsions, but who can satisfy him?
For several months Brett and Paul were inseparable. They worked close together and Paul taught Brett a lot about photography. After several weeks of studying camera angles, as well as modeling for Paul, Brett became more and more comfortable in front of the camera. It was Paul who suggested that Brett try his hand at modeling. They worked for weeks on perfecting his portfolio until Brett felt confident enough to go on rounds. They still made love three or four times a day, with Paul being as gentle as always.
One afternoon, having no appointments, Brett left the studio early. It had now been a year since he had left home and moved in with Paul, and had achieved moderate success as a model and commercial actor. Yet he missed his dad and couldn't understand why. He undressed completely and stood in front of the floor length mirror and studied the adult contours of his body. The bruises had long since faded, he felt strangely naked without them. He slapped his arms a few times until there were red hand prints on his caramel colored skin.
He missed the color of the bruises and the ache that had become so familiar to him whenever he touched himself. Today was his eighteenth birthday and Paul had already hinted at a major surprise. He couldn't imagine what it was. Paul had treated him pretty much as his own son for the past year. He turned, hearing the door open behind him. It was Paul of course.
"Happy Birthday Brett. I think I have something that you might have wanted for at least a year. Well here." Paul wrapped his arms around Brett as he presented him with a gift wrapped box. Brett accepted the box and quickly tore the paper off. Wrapped in delicate tissue paper was a black leather studded paddle. Brett gasped. Paul had finally picked up on the signals, the unspoken communication between Brett and himself had led to this moment.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Brett threw the paddle across the room and ran into the bedroom. Paul picked it up from the floor and tested the grip, as he followed Brett.
Brett lay sobbing across the bed with tears streaming down his face. "How did you know? How could you have guessed? I was very careful not to...It’s sick." Brett flung his arms over his eyes as his sobs shook his entire body.
"I wasn't so sure before. But I watched you as you studied your body daily until the bruises were gone, I could feel you missing something. I could never replace your dad nor would I want to. But I can make an effort to give you what you want. Sensuality is not a sickness Brett, you and I just have other needs than other people." Paul rubbed his hand over Brett's flat belly, amazed at how breathless he became when confronted with Brett's beauty.
"You don't think I'm sick or perverted or anything. Because I think that I miss...this?" Brett reached out and took the paddle from Paul as he fingered the tiny studs.
"I love you, Brett you must know this. I want only what you want, to keep you happy. Paul stood up and undressed, his cock already hard and ready. Paul would not tell Brett that he had wanted this for a long time as well. He had only recently gotten up the nerve to purchase the paddle and present it to Brett.
Paul took the boy's face in his hands and kissed him on the mouth. His lips lingered longingly until he was sure that Brett was relaxed enough to continue, horny enough to want it all. Paul sat in the stiff backed wooden chair, his balls hanging limply between his legs, as his cock hung lazily over them. He whacked the paddle against his palm. Brett approached the chair cautiously, afraid that he might be wrong about everything. He leaned across Paul's lap and felt the comforting throb of Paul's cock against his stomach.
Paul whacked Brett’s taut little butt softly, not too much pressure behind it. He slowly built up the intensity as sweat began to bead on his forehead and the moisture built up inside his palms.
Brett's cock was hard and dripped pre cum in long silvery threads to the floor. He felt the stinging assault of the paddle as it bruised his bottom. Closing his eyes, he realized hadn't been wrong. He had missed the pain and subtle pleasure that accompanied the beating, followed by a ceaseless ache. He knew that he would feel this beating throughout the night and into the next day. He whimpered softly, the sounds of a small boy who had been punished for one bad deed too many.
Cain Berlinger has published innumerable short stories in various gay publications throughout Europe and America. His self published books include essays on Black America, a book on meditation, and a series of fitness books. (as RD Cain)
He currently lives in New York City with his life partner who indulges him shamelessly.