A Sore Bottom for Travis - Chapter One

"Muh-ther-FUK-ker!"

It was his standard response to any annoying situation. And it seemed to Travis that more than his share of situations were annoying lately, if not downright frustrating. Not being the brightest bulb on the tree, Travis' many brilliant ideas often had a way of just not working out.

"Muh-ther-FUK-ker!" He whined to no one in particular.

For Travis, 'motherfucker' referred to all the nameless, faceless people and circumstances that conspired to keep him from getting what he wanted—easy money, free drugs, and plenty of sex.

"Fukfukfukfukfuk!!" He crumpled the envelope he was holding and threw it angrily at the blank TV.

Tiffany, Travis' latest in a long line of girlfriends, stuck her head in from the kitchen. She had one of those flawless faces that are irretrievable after the age of 28 and that crowd every nightspot and modeling agency from Encino to East L.A.

"What is it, Travis, honey? What are you yelling about?" She flipped her perfect, shiny blonde hair with surgical precision and blinked at him from wide-set, almond-shaped eyes. She wiggled over and settled in beside him on the sofa.

"Honey, don‘t get so upset." She stroked his head and cooed soothingly. "Don‘t waste all that energy on unimportant little things." She clearly had no idea what was actually bothering him. "You‘re going to need all the energy you got for the game next week…and for me…" She adopted what she thought was her sexiest pout and ran her hand across the front of his chest.

Travis White had picked her up the previous weekend at one of the hotter clubs in town and she had been staying with him ever since—that is, staying at the million-dollar condo in Westwood that belonged to his uncle, Charlie White. But she didn‘t know that. Travis had told her it was his place and his car. He had also told her that he was on the starting lineup of the Los Angeles Dodgers. The bar was about to close. She was drunk. He was flashing around a lot of cash. And neither of them thought past the end of Travis' dick.

They went home that night and had amazing sex. What each lacked in IQ points, they more than made up for in good looks and sexual enthusiasm. She wanted to believe she had hooked up with a big baseball star—and he intended to let her.

The deal was clinched when he showed up the next afternoon with a giant bottle of her favorite perfume. She had seen it in the store and knew exactly what it cost. Unconcerned that large-bottle-size rarely predicted quality, they each beamed with their own inner pride—she, pleased at how easy it was to get him to buy her the most expensive thing on the counter; he gloating that the ridiculously-priced bottle was a knock-off he had purchased for five bucks on the street.

The giant bottle gleamed obscenely on the coffee table while Travis' thoughts drifted to the note crumpled on the floor.

The metallic ratcheting sound echoed from the high ceiling as the bound figure was hoisted off his feet. The blooming redness of the man‘s bare buttocks was beautifully framed by the black jockstrap that was the only clothing he was permitted to wear. Two men, one on either side of the helpless man, applied loud rhythmic spanks to his exposed ass.

"SMACK!"

The force of an open-handed blow caused the dangling man to groan and swing forward. The man on the other side, dressed in chaps and harness, skillfully timed the man‘s return swing and planted a loud, full-arm swat with a leather paddle squarely across both cheeks.

"KER-RACK!"

The oval-shaped paddle made a fearsome noise in the near-empty bar. The helpless man grunted and muttered quiet words of aroused submission.

"SMACK!"

The bound figure spun clockwise from the hook in the ceiling.

"CRACK!"

He spun the other way.

"CRACK ! SMACK!"

"CRACK ! SMACK!"

Back and forth he spun. The relentless spanking/paddling continued. Sweat was pouring down the shirtless man's chest. He began to notice that his hand was getting sore.

"OK," said Phillip, the man with the paddle. "I think he's had enough." He spun the boy to face him.

"You had enough, boy?" He squeezed the boy's genitals through the fabric of the jockstrap, which was moist with sweat and spots of precum. The boy drew a sharp intake of breath. "I can‘t hear you boy! Have…you…had …enough?"

"No, Sir..." came the man's whispered reply.

Phillip's eyes sparkled...and the punishment continued.

With a teasing little peck on his cheek, she headed into the kitchen to heat up some frozen dinners, the full extent of her culinary skills.

When she was out of sight, Travis retrieved the crumpled paper from the floor. Eyebrows pinched and worried, he nervously smoothed it out on the coffee table. It was on official Dodgers letterhead and informed him that he had to complete his annual physical by the end of the week in order to remain on the team.

This included drug testing!

Some of what he had told Tiffany about being on the Dodgers was true. What he hadn't told her was that he was relief right field on the 4th string and was close to being fired. He had strewn enough Dodgers-logo stuff around the place to convince an un-inquisitive mind like Tiffany's that he was, indeed, on the team. He knew that if he got drug tested, his lab results would light up like a Christmas tree—steroids, opiates, THC, coke, you name it!—and they would dump him like a turd. He couldn't afford to lose this job.

"Muh-ther-FUK-ker!"

Getting his physical, however, was the least of his worries. Tiffany expected to go out that night and it was inevitably going to be expensive. He had blown his last hundreds on that bag of coke. He needed to get some more cash—quick!

"Tiffany, baby, I‘m gonna run out to the store and get some wine." He called from the sofa. "I‘ll be right back." Before she could respond, he grabbed his backpack and shot out the door.

Phillip went to work more than a bit hung over. But he didn't mind. He liked his job running the free clinic at the hospital, and he liked the people he worked with. As a nurse, Phillip knew his job. He was competent and efficient. The doctor in charge respected him for it and let him pretty much run the clinic the way he saw fit.

Dr. Thompson was a pretty cool guy, thought Phillip. He was young enough that he hadn't had time to develop that insufferable God-complex to which so many docs succumb.

Plus, there were perks! Being a free clinic, the kids from the local community college all got their health care with them. This meant that some pretty hot young men would come in from time to time and need things like shots or sports physicals.

And Phillip never missed an opportunity to be front and center for the most embarrassing procedures!

It was a beautiful late afternoon. He was looking forward to a bit of exercise and fresh air. He had been cooped up all day working on a grant proposal for the local Veteran‘s association. He detested the layers of bureaucracy that had to be navigated just for a measly $5,000. Richard pulled on his jacket and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter.

It had rained a little that day—just enough to wash the air clean and lend a sparkle to the late-spring growth. He loved this time of year before the hills dried out and everything around L.A. was still green. He patted the wallet in his back pocket and was reassured by its bulge.

Richard Thompson had a good life. He had a good job right out of med school ten blocks from where he lived. He had a beautiful girlfriend and the buoyant good health of a man in his late 20's. He ran the free clinic at the local hospital and really enjoyed the people he worked with. There was this one guy, Phillip, a nurse and a real crack up. He was that great combination of competence and fun. You could trust him to take care of business and still have a good time doing it. Phillip was bright and funny, and told hilarious—and often shocking—stories about his exploits in the L.A. gay S&M community. He had a breezy openness about his sexuality that Richard liked. He just couldn't always be sure how much of what the guy said was true. And despite himself, Richard somehow found the details of his exploits oddly fascinating.

The young doctor turned into the entrance to the park. He appreciated the way the place had been landscaped and how well-used it was. It wasn't all that big as city parks went. One end was always full of Latino families eating and listening to music while their kids ran around and played. The other end was a well-known gay cruising area. It was characteristic of the neighborhoods of L.A. that such diverse elements co-existed so well.

Although each group definitely kept to its own turf, it was this kind of live-and-let-live culture that he found so appealing about the city.

Richard was on his way to the bank. He and his girlfriend had attended a fundraiser the night before as a benefit for the V.A. Being one of the organizers, it was his job to collect the large bills from the cashier at the door. It was safer not to keep the large notes in the cashbox, so he would periodically swing by and collect the 50's and 100's. It was these notes that caused the substantial bulge in his wallet.

Thinking about them, he quickened his pace.

Richard entered into the gay section of the park. He smiled as he noticed a couple of guys leaning against a tree. They had that odd mixture of studied casualness and tense readiness that he had seen before between men in the park. They glanced over at him, ran their eyes up and down the length of his body, and then resumed their conversation. Richard had to laugh. He found the gay-male cruising ritual only slightly more ridiculous than the singles-bar, pursuit-and-dodge patterns of straights. Actually, he envied gay men in a way. Finding someone for sex seemed so much less complicated for them. The truth was, though, he was glad he was out of that whole desperate singles-bar scene. He had found a woman who was both a good friend and good in bed. He smiled as he recalled the deep, satisfying blow job she had given him the night before. She was incredible! His cock stiffened thinking about the way she looked up at him while his hard dick slid in and out of her amazing mouth. She had a way of cradling his balls and gently tugging on his scrotum as she sucked him that drove him absolutely wild.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a figure with a backpack appeared in front of him brandishing a knife.

"Gimme your wallet!"

Disoriented, head still lost in the memory of having his cock sucked last night, Richard stumbled backward a step. He raised his hands palms-forward in a placating gesture and looked around. Not a soul in sight!

"One peep and I‘ll cut a new smile across your neck." The young man was tall and clearly agitated. Richard wondered if he were on meth.

"Come on, buddy, you don't want to…" Richard's words were cut off by a violent stab of the knife toward his chest.

"Get behind that tree!" The young man cocked his head towards a large tree surrounded by thick bushes. "Move!" He stabbed again. This time the knife point penetrated Richard's jacket and nicked his skin.

Off balance, Richard allowed himself to be backed into the bushes. With a sudden shove, the young man caused Richard to trip over a tree root, fall backwards to the ground, and land painfully on his tailbone. Catlike and with surprising strength, the young man was on top of him and had him flipped over onto his belly before Richard knew what had happened. One hand held the knife at his throat, while the other hand deftly searched his pockets. With a satisfied grunt, the young man extracted the fat wallet and slipped it unopened into his backpack.

The knife still held at his throat, the young man grabbed Richard by the hair on top of his head and pulled him painfully to his feet.

"Alright. Getcher clothes off!" He jerked Richard's head back and pressed the blade into his Adam's apple.

"Huh? What?" Richard was incredulous. Was he going to be raped?

"Do it, muh-ther-FUK-er!" There was a childish glee in the young man's voice. He sounded crazed. Trembling, Richard complied. He undid his jeans and let them fall to the ground.

"Underwear too, asshole!" Richard felt the knife bite into the skin of his neck and a drop of blood run down his Adam's apple. He pulled his underpants slowly to his ankles. The cool spring air felt weird on his naked ass and inner thighs, and he could feel his scrotum contract.

"Keep going! I want you totally stripped!" The young man barked. Richard struggled to get his pants off over his shoes. The young man scoffed at the ridiculous sight of his terrified victim stumbling around in front of him. Richard kept his back to the man.

"And just remember, asshole, I got your wallet so I know where you live." He hissed into the doctor's ear, more than a little impressed by the way the guy was hung. "Try anything stupid and you're a dead man!"

The young man punched him in the kidney, and Richard toppled face-down into the dirt. Lying on the ground, completely naked, Richard panted with anger, humiliation, and fear. He was terrified of what the young man had in mind.

Travis knew he should get out of there, but something in him couldn't resist one further humiliation. With his left hand, he jabbed the knife under Richard‘s rib. With the other, he fumbled in his jacket pocket.

"Don‘t move, muh-ther-FUK-er, or this knife goes right in your lung!" Richard trembled with cold and fear. He felt something wet being drawn across his back.

"There! A little something to remember me by!" The young man sneered as he backed away, gathering Richard's clothes and stuffing them in his pack.

And then suddenly, he was gone.

The young doctor waited a moment, lying perfectly still, breathing heavily. Oddly, he became aware of the sensation of his genitals pressed into the dirt, and he could hear the faint sounds of a boom box at the other end of the park.

After what seemed like an eternity, Richard ventured to lift his head and look around. The young man was nowhere to be seen. Stiffly, he came to his feet. Glancing desperately around, he realized that the bastard had taken his clothes as well as his wallet.

What was he going to do?

His eyes fell on a pile of discarded newspapers. He snatched them up over his groin and did his best to keep to the perimeter of the bushy area. Despite his best efforts, there were unavoidable points at which he was forced to come out into the open.

Richard had never felt so humiliated in his life. Several people in cars had seen him. There was no way to prevent it. Most of them just laughed at him or made wolf whistles. Hopefully, nobody would recognize him. Actually, part of him was surprised that nobody offered any help. People in LA were probably used to seeing just about everything. He wanted to call out for help, but the mortification was just too great.

And then, one particularly rowdy car-full drove by filled with shouting young men.

"Hey, faggot! Get back in the queer park where you belong!"

"Whatsa matter? Didja ya wander away from the AIDS ward?"

The car swerved as if to hit him and then sped past, leering faces and middle fingers extended out of rolled-down windows.

Mercifully, it was only a short distance home from the park. He heaved a huge sigh of relief as he rounded the last corner and his apartment building came into view.

Travis felt great. He couldn't wait to get into the shower.

He glanced at his reflection in the glass door of the shower. Absent-mindedly, he sucked in his gut and puffed out his chest. He thought fleetingly of the guy in the park and smirked. He thought with deep satisfaction of the wallet, fat with bills, lying on his bed. Quickly, he stripped off his designer briefs, which cost him a fortune. He knew exactly how good his basket looked in those briefs. He copped a surreptitious little sniff of the still-warm crotch of the pricey garment and then laid it carefully over the edge of the sink.

Whistling, he stepped naked into the shower.

He had a lot on his mind. It was probably only a matter of time before Tiffany caught on that he was lying to her about being a big-shot baseball star. But, what the fuck? He was already getting kind of sick of her anyway and figured she was only good for a few more fucks.

Travis adjusted the water to the perfect temperature—he did not like it too hot—and leaned back into the luxurious flow. Clear water sheeted across his flat stomach, caressed down his inner thighs, and streamed off the end of his cock. Sure, he had a few details to work out, but for right now, he just wanted to relax and get ready for a crazy night out. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the soothing sensations of warm, flowing water on his lean, muscular torso.

Unbeknownst to Travis, Tiffany bustled into the bathroom with an extravagantly-fragranced gift basket of frilly bathroom accessories. Happily she began unpacking the basket, pausing to admire a stiff-bristled back brush. Suddenly, her eyes fell on the dirty underpants lying across the sink. Her face squinched with disgust. She quickly plucked the offending garment between an exaggerated thumb and forefinger and flicked it to the floor.

Blissfully unaware, Travis vigorously washed and rinsed his hard body. He loved the feeling of the water running over the crack of his ass.

Tiffany turned to study herself in the mirror. She noticed a tiny smudge of lipstick at the corner of her mouth, which she immediately corrected with a tissue. Humming tunelessly, she dropped the tissue into the toilet, gingerly replaced the lid, and gave it a flush.

Almost instantly, Travis let out a yowl of surprise and pain. The momentary redirection of cold water to the toilet caused a surge of scalding water to blast across his ass and thighs!

"What the FUCK!" He whirled furiously to face the startled girl. Giggling, she backed away from him as he charged out of the shower. He had the angry expression of a little boy who was about to cry.

Eyes stinging with shampoo, his heel landed on the underwear just outside the tub and skidded out from under him. Both feet shot ludicrously into the air. Desperately, he twisted his body to avoid hitting his head on the tub and landed ass-first directly on top of Tiffany‘s new brush!

Travis shrieked with pain and outrage, and then he cut loose with a withering torrent of profanity!

"Omigod!" She tried to sound sympathetic, but couldn‘t suppress a giggle. Trying not to get wet, she made ineffectual little movements to help him to his feet. He continued cursing a blue streak.

"Muh-ther-FUK-ker!" He yelled as he struggled to his feet. "Jesus, Tiff! What the fuck!" He whined, rubbing his buttocks.

"That‘s my new brush," she replied peevishly.

"Take a look, wouldja? See if it‘s OK!" He bent over and pulled his ass cheeks apart to reveal an angry set of welts where the bristles of the brush had painfully jabbed and pricked the flesh around his tender butthole.

"Yeah, it‘s OK," she replied examining the brush. Flipping her hair, she ran her fingers gingerly over the bristles, turned, and flounced out of the room.

Angry and humiliated, Richard stood in the shower letting the warm water calm him. But, as horrible as the experience was of being assaulted and stripped in public, he felt worse about losing all the money they had taken in the night before at the fundraiser. Mentally, he kicked himself for being so careless. He dabbed at the spot below his chin where that asshole had nicked him with a knife. The bleeding had finally stopped.

Richard's girlfriend, Denise, was cooking dinner. She wiped her hands on a towel and moved quietly around the kitchen. She felt horrible. Richard had looked so unhappy, and nothing she said seemed to make any difference. She choked back tears the entire time it took to scrub the writing off his back. For his sake, she hadn't wanted to lose it. He had already been unspeakably humiliated and she didn't want to make it any worse. Her heart broke for him.

At the other end of the apartment, Richard stepped carefully out of the shower and began toweling off.

"We have to call the police," he called toward the kitchen.

There was steel in his voice.

His mood was already starting to improve. Friday night was his favorite part of the week. They did a couple of lines and got ready to go out. A hot new dance bar had opened on Melrose. Travis' uncle was CEO of one of the top modeling agencies in town and, after a lot of whining, he had had Travis' name put on the list. That impressed the hell out of Tiffany.

Travis squirmed in his seat all the way to the club. The pain around his butthole was pretty bad. However, his mood lightened as the drugs began to kick in. He let the valet park the car and they headed toward the entrance to the club. Travis whispered a few words into the bouncer's ear and pressed a $50 bill surreptitiously into his palm. The bouncer unhooked the velvet rope and allowed the two to enter in front of a glowering line of would-be revelers.

Once inside, Tiffany ordered a glass of the club's most expensive champagne and made a beeline to a group of her fellow models. She posed and jabbered with her friends, all but ignoring Travis. The pounding music made it impossible to hear, but Travis was pretty sure they were talking about him. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his sore butt crack.

Travis was getting irritated and the drugs in his system were not helping him relax. Tiffany was nattering with her bubble-headed girlfriends and completely ignored him. Despite the loud music, he got the definite impression that she was telling them all about the bath-brush incident. They kept looking over at him and laughing.

Suddenly, Travis decided he'd had enough. He grabbed Tiffany's hand mid-air, removed the champagne glass from her manicured grasp, and pulled her roughly to her feet. Her squawks of protest were drowned by the thundering techno pulse as he dragged her stumbling out of the club.

"Hey! What‘s got into you?!" She screamed a bit too loudly now that they were out in the night street and away from the music. He ignored her as he handed his claim ticket to the valet.

"Why‘d we hafta leave?" She was a bit scared by the way he was acting, but her voice softened when she saw the huge wad of bills spilling from his wallet.

"Whatsa matter, baby?" She cooed. "Didn‘t ya like that place? I thought it was pretty hot." She took his elbow in both hands and leaned into him, purring. She realized she had gone a bit too far back in the club, and figured she had better ease off.

"Come on, baby. Let‘s go back to your place and…" She looked up into his eyes and slid one hand down the front of his thigh. He became immediately hard. His eyes skimmed down her cleavage and his anger evaporated. He helped her into the car, got in on his side, and sped his way back to Westwood.

________________________
Click here for Chapter Two

A Sore Bottom for Travis - Chapter Two

Saturday morning was usually pretty quiet at the free clinic, and today was no exception. Phillip busied himself with catching up on his paperwork while waiting for the doctor to get back from the E.R. Some guy had come in coding, so Dr. Thompson had run down the hall to help.

Phillip heard the little buzzer that announced someone coming in the clinic door. He glanced up, glad to be distracted from the boring paperwork on the desk. In walked a tall, good-looking blonde guy—although, swaggered would be more accurate. The young man approached the check-in counter, and Phillip gave him a sly once-over. Phillip liked what he saw.

"How may I help you?" He gave the man a raised-eyebrow look that let him know he had Phillip's attention.

"Sports physical," came the indolent reply. "They're free, right?"

"For students, yes. Are you a student?" Phillip knew perfectly well that he wasn't.

"Uh, yeah...senior." The transparent lie was laughable. Phillip didn't really care if a few people got free care they were not entitled to. And this one had...potential.

"Name?" Phillip pushed a set of forms toward the young man.

"Travis White. Say, how long is this gonna take?" He cleared his throat.

"Not too long." Phillip's tone was breezy. "Actually, we‘re not very busy, but the doctor's taking care of an emergency so you may have to wait a few minutes. OK?"

Travis grunted. He filled in the forms and then took a seat across the room. Phillip reached under the counter, grabbed a small fabric bundle, and walked over to the patient.

"Follow me," he said, leading the young man to a curtained-off area around the corner. Phillip thought it might be fun to play a little game with the guy.

"You‘re here for shots, right?"

"No..NO...just a physical. I hate needles."

"Oh, yeah. That's right." Phillip smiled innocently. "We'll need a pee sample," he said, handing him a small, screw-top plastic bottle.

With a flush, Travis saw in his mind's eye the little bag of yellow liquid back in the refrigerator in the condo and realized he forgotten to bring the clean urine sample.

"OK," Phillip's tone was light. "I need you strip down, and take everything off. I'll give you a gown to put on and you can wait here until the doctor gets back. Just put your clothes over there and hop up on the exam table."

Travis turned his head to see where the nurse was pointing, and Phillip—still holding the gown—scooted out of the exam area before he could turn back around.

Travis patted his pants pocket looking for his phone. He rummaged through his pack. He pulled out what he thought was his Droid and realized he must have grabbed his uncle's phone when he dashed out of the condo. He couldn‘t remember Tiffany‘s cell number, so he clicked 'home' on his uncle's contact list. After a few maddening unanswered rings, his uncle's answering machine picked up. He left a frantic message telling Tiffany to get the bag of yellow liquid in the refrigerator and bring it to the clinic PRONTO.

Then, he started to undress, unaware of the hungry eyes watching him from behind the partition.

"Man, I hate this!" Travis muttered under his breath.

His underpants snagged on his foot and he stumbled a little bit, losing his balance. He hopped around on one foot and then landed with both hands planted on the floor in the downward dog position. Phillip watched with growing interest. The sight of the man's full, muscular buttocks and the small, winking rosebud of his exposed anus was unexpectedly beautiful, and he let out a tiny noise.

Travis whipped his head around and glanced awkwardly back over the top of his upturned bottom, but Phillip managed to scoot away before he could be seen. Travis stood up and looked around suspiciously.

"Jesus! It‘s cold in here." He could feel the little chilled ache in his nipples. Unconsciously, he pulled on his dick to stretch it out. He looked around for the gown, but couldn‘t find it. Nervous, embarrassed, and a little cold, his nut sac shrunk tightly to his abdomen. He shook his leg and pulled on his scrotum again.

"Muh-ther-FUK-ker!" Travis searched around the cubicle, finding nothing. He peeked around the curtain.

"Hey dude, uh… nurse?" He called out uncertainly. No one answered and there was no one around.

She sat up and pulled the bedclothes over her breasts. It was already afternoon. Travis had inexplicably rushed out of the condo with his backpack. She didn‘t bother to call after him. Her head was throbbing and she realized she didn‘t really care. She was already feeling bored.

Slowly, she crawled out of bed. She was glad that Travis wasn‘t there to see her in this condition. She stumbled into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She was starting to put on her make-up when the phone rang. Uninterested, she let it ring until the answering machine kicked in.

"beep…This is Charlie. You know what to do...beep."

"Baby?...Baby?...This is Travis." His voice sounded urgent. "Come on, baby. Pick up!" Unperturbed, she drew a perfect line along her lower lid in black eyeliner. She glanced at the answering machine in the mirror's reflection and went back to applying her make up.

"Baby, this is serious." He was frantic. "Ya gotta help me!!" She smoothed a dab of soft green eye shadow with her pinkie.

"Ok...I guess you're in the bathroom or something." She regarded herself placidly in the mirror, turning her head side to side.

"When you get this message, I want you to bring me something...I‘m down at the Westside Hospital at the corner of Wilshire and Beverly Glen."

She unscrewed her lipstick.

"There‘s a bag in the refrigerator. I need you to bring it to me...PRONTO! Take a cab. This is important!!"

She rolled her eyes and wiped a tiny red smudge from her front tooth.

Travis flipped off the phone.

"Hey!" He called out to the nurse again. "Where'd ya go?!" This was pretty weird, he thought. He knew he had to cooperate with this asshole nurse so he could get his all-clear on the physical without getting busted for the no-doubt sky-high blood levels of party drugs in his system.

Across the room, he could see a wall of shelves filled with all kinds of equipment and bottles. Even though he was butt naked, Travis was never one to pass up an opportunity. He picked up his backpack and snuck out from behind the curtain.

He tiptoed over to the other side of the room to investigate. Immediately, his eyes locked on what looked like a bunch of multi-dose pill bottles, the kind they have in drug store pharmacies. He couldn't believe his luck! He snatched one of the glass bottles from the shelf and gave it a little shake.

"A whole fucking bottle of Vicodin!" Travis almost shouted. "This shit goes for ten-bucks-a-pop!" His naked butt cheeks clenched with greedy excitement and felt a twinge of pain where the bath brush had jabbed him.

His eyes darted around the room. He figured he didn't have much time. Hastily, he started grabbing random bottles from the shelf and stuffing them into his pack.

"What the fuck…??!!" came a booming voice from the doorway. "Who the fuck are you??!"

Travis froze at the sudden voice behind him.

The naked boy whirled around to face his accuser. He dropped his pack, and the two men faced each other, neither saying a word. The man in the white coat was momentarily immobilized by the sudden electricity of recognition.

Travis bolted forward. His instincts told him that he could catch the man with the stethoscope off guard by running straight at him. He figured he could knock him off balance and make it out the door. With reflex greed, he gripped the bottle of Vicodin and made his move for the door. He had no thought of what he would do after that, stark naked and awkwardly clutching a bottle of stolen pills.

But Travis underestimated the other man's strength. Energized by a sudden flush of rage, Dr. Thompson grabbed onto him and swung him easily out into the hall.

Like a stolen banana in the hands of a hungry chimpanzee, Travis clutched the bottle of pills and tried to fight his way out the of the man's grip. In his hung-over state, he was easily overpowered.

With a single punch to the head, the young doctor laid Travis out cold. The blow sent him flipping backwards, ass-over-teakettle. The bottle of Vicodin crashed to the floor.

She regarded herself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. "Not bad," she thought, admiring her flat belly and round breasts. She tugged her tight knit top to a point just above her navel.

"He really is kind of an asshole," she said aloud to the empty room. She wandered around the room. Sober and with a headache, she started thinking this guy wasn't such great thing after all. She opened a few random drawers and nosed around inside. A bunch of mail addressed to 'Charlie White' was stacked on one side.

A beautiful inlaid wood box caught her eye on top of the dresser. Curiously she lifted the lid and was dazzled by the array of men's jewelry—huge diamond pinkie rings and massive gold cufflinks.

"Hmmm..." She picked up one particularly heavy-looking cufflink with the initials 'CW' outlined in tiny diamonds. "Maybe this guy isn't such a loser after all." She hefted the cufflink in her hand and wondered how much a thing like this would cost.

"Wait a minute!" she thought. Her brows would have knit were they not immobilized by Botox. "I thought this guy said his name was 'Travis.’" And then it dawned on her—the answering machine for 'Charlie...' The cufflinks with 'CW' on them...the mail in the drawer for 'Charlie White...' Travis was a fucking imposter!

Alarmed by the ruckus, Phillip ran out into the hallway and couldn't believe what he saw. There was Dr. Thompson standing over the naked, apparently unconscious, form of the patient who had come for a physical.

"What happened, Doc?" Phillip was simultaneously shocked and intrigued. His eyes darted back and forth between the unconscious form of the naked man on the floor and the doctor‘s stunned face.

Slowly, and with growing anger, the doctor began to explain where he had met this boy before. The words began to pour out of him as he recounted the entire humiliating episode in the park. Phillip listened in disbelief, nodding from time-to-time and making small empathetic noises. When the doctor came to the part about having to make his way home naked with the word 'fag' on his back, Phillip's sympathetic anger swelled to complete outrage.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?" Phillip asked sincerely. "I could have helped you find the bastard!"

Richard shook his head sadly. "I was too embarrassed."

Phillip laid his hand lightly on Richard‘s arm. His eyes narrowed. "Maybe I have an idea..."



The phone rang and made her jump. She was still upset over what had happened to Richard in the park. She could still see those horrible words scrawled on his back. It had taken her forever to scrub them off as he sobbed on the bed. She didn't care about the money, but the thought of some bastard terrorizing and humiliating a nice guy like Richard made her blood boil. And to make matters worse, once the police had found out that Richard was unhurt, they decided they were too busy to interview him right away. That was them on the phone. They wanted to speak with Richard. She told them that he had gone in to work to get his mind off what had happened. They said they would talk with him tomorrow. Denise was about to give them a piece of her mind and then decided it would probably only make matters worse.

She quietly put the receiver down and wished there were something she could do to help.

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Click here for Chapter Three

A Sore Bottom for Travis - Chapter Three

Everything was black and his head throbbed. Somewhere in the near distance he heard muted, conspiratorial voices and odd rustling sounds. His head pounded unmercifully and he was having a bit of difficulty getting a good breath. He tried opening his eyes, but was blinded by an intense white light that amplified the drumming pain in his head to unbearable proportions. Besides the thundering inside his skull, his whole body felt cramped and achy. He wanted to rub the bruised bridge of his nose, but he couldn't move his arms. 

Something held them painfully in place behind his back. And then he noticed the burning ache in his knees. 

Something kept him from moving and forced him bent over, face-down into a very uncomfortable crouch.

"SNAP!" a familiar sound. What was that sound? Travis gingerly opened his eyes to mere slits. Where was he?

And then it all came back to him. The hospital...The physical exam...The stolen pills...He remembered how the guy in the white coat caught him in the nose with a lucky punch. He must have been knocked out because he had no idea how he ended up in this weird position and unable to move. He recognized the feel of rope against his skin. Suddenly he realized that somehow he had been tied up. The tight knots bit into his wrists and ankles as he struggled to get free.

"What the fuck!?!" Travis shouted. "What the FUCK!"

"You better hold still there buddy," Phillip's amused voice came from somewhere behind the naked captive, "or you're gonna flip yourself off that bed and crack your head on the floor...again!"

"Fuck you, muther-FUK-er!" Travis tried to shout, but his words were muffled in the pillow under his face. His vision was clearing a bit. The hazy figure of a tall man in a white coat came slowly into focus.

The man was straightening a latex glove on his hand. It gradually dawned on him that he was still in the hospital and that it must have been the staff who had tied him up. He tried to think, but the pounding in his head made it hard to concentrate. It didn't make any sense. This must be about the pills, he thought. They were probably holding him until the cops came.

"Well, doctor, it appears that the patient is awake." Phillip's tone of exaggerated concern did not hide the lust behind his words. He gave Travis a playful pat on his bare bottom.

"Hey! Cut it out!" Travis tried to twist away from the unwelcome touch and almost toppled off the bed.

"Whoa, there sport!" Phillip grabbed him by the expertly-tied cords that bound his wrists and pulled him back into the face-down crouch. "You need to take it easy. You've sustained a nasty blow to the head. I've got the doctor right here and he's going to have a look at you and make sure everything is OK."

Phillip gave him another pat on his bare, upturned butt, this time with distinctly more force—more a swat than a pat. A faint pink patch bloomed where his hand had connected. Phillip marveled at how deliciously the helpless man's white skin blushed under even the lightest swat.

"This is Dr. Thompson and I‘m Phillip, your nurse." There was a sharp irony underneath the practiced professionalism. "You know who I am. And I think you may have already met the doctor?" Phillip lowered his face to within inches of his captive's ear and gestured toward his colleague looming at the side of the bed.

Travis' vision was blurry and the figure before him was indistinct. Again, Travis struggled against his bonds. He was in deep shit!

"We‘re very concerned about you," Dr. Thompson said in a low, controlled voice. He was shaking with anger and had trouble keeping his voice even. He laid his gloved hand on the hobbled man's back in a gesture that would have been comforting in other circumstances. "You‘ve sustained a very nasty blow to the bridge of your nose. So, I'm going to examine you to see if everything is all right."

Phillip turned Travis' head. He was so close that their noses almost touched. "Yes, the doctor is going to examine you to make sure everything is all right." He brushed the hair off the man's forehead and sat down on a stool by the bed. Travis flinched.

"I hope these little...supports...aren't too uncomfortable?" Phillip purred, plucking the ropes gently and adjusting the alignment of the knots. "It‘s rather a specialty of mine for making sure our...patients...are snug and secure. Sometimes the doctor has to do things that are a little...uncomfortable, and we just want to make sure that the patient holds nice and still so nobody gets...hurt."

Travis began to tremble. Suddenly, despite the chill air in the examination room, a thin patina of sweat broke out over his entire body.

"Well, Doctor, I think our patient is just about ready for his examination." He reached over to a nearby tray and picked up a spray bottle of isopropyl alcohol that he used for cleaning the room between patients.

Without warning, Phillip squirted a full blast of alcohol all over the bare buttocks sticking up on the bed. Travis yelped with inarticulate outrage and surprise.

"That's OK, buddy." Phillip soothed. "You just yell all you want. We're the only ones here now and the place is locked up tight as a drum. So, nobody's going to be the least bit bothered by any sound you make." Phillip gave him two more blasts.

Travis yelped and struggled. The icy spray covered the entire surface of his bottom. Some of the excess alcohol dribbled down the crack between his cheeks on onto his exposed anus. Suddenly, his asshole was on fire.

Travis roared in pain and struggled against his restraints. But, every time he clenched his butt cheeks in an effort to get free, a fresh pain scorched his virgin butthole.

"Doctor?" Phillip asked with smart efficiency. "I think he's ready for the first part of his examination." With a grave expression and steely resolve, Richard laid his gloved index finger lightly against the boy's un-lubricated anus.

"Hey, muther-FUK-er! Cut it out!!! What the fuck!??" And then he abruptly changed his tone. "Come on," Travis wheedled. "Can‘t we talk about this?"

"There, there. Just relax." Phillip coached, patting the boy's forehead. "The more you resist, the more...difficult...this will be."

With just a fraction of the anger he felt, Richard jammed his finger past the resisting anus. Travis howled and jerked his head backward. But, the implacable restraints kept him expertly pinned and kneeling with his face mashed uncomfortably against the bed.

With deliberate roughness, Richard poked and probed around inside the boy's upturned bottom. Travis whimpered forlornly, not so much because it hurt—Richard was quite expert at rectal examination technique—but because he was SO embarrassed and the finger felt SO WEIRD up his butt.

Suddenly, a jolt of electricity shot through Travis' gut and right to the head of his dick. He let out a shrill, girlish, "Eek." A sly smile cracked the corner of Richard‘s up-until-then grim expression as he methodically probed and massaged the boy's firm prostate. Travis had never experienced anything like this before and sobbed with mortification as a little squirt of pre-cum oozed from the end of his penis each time the doctor mashed on the sensitive organ. With a sudden, vicious jab, the doctor pushed his finger pushed in to the hilt.

"What are you DOING to me!?" Travis sobbed, helplessly overcome by deep humiliation mixed with a very real and very primitive pleasure. A long strand of precum extended from the tip of his shriveled dick all the way to the bed and collected in a sticky pool on the sheet.

"Don‘t worry," Phillip coaxed. "It‘s perfectly natural for men to ooze a bit during a rectal examination." He tickled the bottom of the boy's nutsac playfully and Travis jumped. The skin of his scrotum contracted noticeably and he moaned in misery. Phillip darted a mischievous glance at the doctor whose expression remained impassive.

Richard extracted his finger with small "pop."

"However, I must say," Phillip feigned surprise, "you seem to be oozing quite a bit more than is usual. You‘re not enjoying this, are you?!"

Suddenly, the nurse's voice turned hard. There was a sneer in his voice. He stood up, planted one hand on each of the boy‘s butt cheeks, and roughly pulled them apart. "We just better have a look."

"Oh my!" Phillip feigned concern. "Doctor, perhaps you should take a look at this." He jerked the muscular buttocks further apart and held them wide. Travis' testicles popped into sight between his thighs.

The red marks from the bath brush clustered in a patch around his anus. "Is that a rash forming on his bottom? I think he may be having some kind of allergic reaction."

"Tsk, tsk." Playing along, Richard leaned in to look. "There does appear to be some plural petechiae forming on the perineum." Richard did his best to sound grave. Phillip rolled his eyes and suppressed a grin. "I guess we better check for fever."

Travis had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn‘t sound good. "The lubricant is over on the counter." Richard motioned his head toward a jar on the counter. At this, Phillip broke into a full grin.

"Yes, Doctor. We should lube that thermometer until it's nice and slick and will slip right in. We don't want any more drippy accidents, now do we, Travis?"

"Hunh??" Travis replied stupidly. The pounding in his head made it hard to concentrate. He figured the best thing to do in the situation was to cooperate, so he opened his mouth to accept the thermometer.

"Oh, we‘re not going to take your temperature there, dude. We;re going to take it here." The nurse jerked Travis' butt cheeks further apart while Richard slathered the rectal thermometer with goo from a jar labeled, 'Icy Hot.'

Suddenly, and with perfect precision, the doctor jabbed the thin glass tube directly in the center of the bull's-eye. The gel-covered tube slid effortlessly past the boy's sphincter. Travis whimpered with embarrassment, but did not make a fuss. He could barely feel the tiny glass instrument. And besides, it was WAY better than that doctor's fat finger.

And then he began to feel it.

It started as a not-unpleasant warmth around the rim of his butthole. And then it rapidly began to heat up.

"Um, Doctor?" Phillip tried to sound serious. "I‘m not sure it was such a good idea to use Icy Hot as a lubricant. It says right here, 'Not to be used on mucus membranes. May cause severe burning...'"

The inside of Travis' anal ring was starting to feel uncomfortably hot.

"Nonsense!" Richard exclaimed dismissively. "It‘ll be just fine."

Travis began to squirm. The sensation inside his anus was starting to become intensely hot!

"But, Doctor!" Phillip urged in mock protest. "I'm not sure we should be..." His voice trailed off. Richard's expression had turned once again to one of angry concentration. The young nurse was fascinated...and aroused...by the scene before him. His cock began to swell uncomfortably in his pants.

"Let's see." Richard stabilized the thermometer as the bound young man began to writhe in discomfort.

"Come on, doc. Fuck! That's really starting to burn!" There was an edge of desperation in Travis' voice.

"Just a few seconds more, young man. I want to be sure to get a good, accurate reading." Richard began to twist the thermometer rapidly inside the boy's rectum and then piston it viciously in and out.

The boy let out a shriek.

"I don't know, Doctor." Phillip tried to contain a grin. "It says here, 'To achieve maximum heat, apply friction.' I‘m not sure you should be pushing it in and out of his bottom that way. It could get awfully hot!"

"I guess you're right." Richard deftly pulled the rigid glass tube out of the boy's butthole. "We're all done here."

Travis moaned and whined. The burning pain in his asshole had trebled with the doctor's rapid manipulations. It felt like someone had pushed a red hot poker up his ass. And nothing he did relieved the pain. Squeezing his cheeks together just made the burning worse.

The two men stood back and watched the moaning boy writhe helplessly on the table.

"Just as I thought!" Richard held the thermometer up to the light. "This boy has a fever!"

"Please! Fuck! Wash it off. FUCK! It burns. It BURNS!!" The searing pain was worse than anything he had ever felt.

"Don‘t worry, young man," the doctor soothed. "It will wear off...in about two hours."

"Nooooo…!"

Laughing, the two men in hospital garb put their heads together and whispered while the boy swayed miserably from side-to-side, unable to escape the intense burning in his rectum.

After a moment, the doctor laid his hand between the helpless boy's shoulder blades.

"I‘m afraid you have a rather high fever, son." He rubbed the boy's back in fake sympathy. "I think that fever needs to be treated."

Travis did his best to hold still despite the aching burn in his ass, and listened apprehensively. Why were these guys fucking with him? All he did was try to cop a few bottles of pills. Why were they torturing him like this?

"But Doctor," replied Phillip. The whimpering boy turned his head painfully to look at the nurse. "Travis said he really does not like needles. You're not going to have to give him a shot, are you?" The nurse smiled sweetly.

"I'm afraid so." Travis whipped his head around painfully toward the sound of the other man's voice. "We can't take any chances with a fever this high. We'll have to give him several."

Travis was about to protest and then he froze. Suddenly, his vision cleared and he recognized the man in the white coat. He thought that voice had sounded familiar. It was that guy he had robbed in the park!

Muh-ther-FUK-ker! Just his fucking luck! He tried to think of something to say, some way to get himself out of this, but his head throbbed and all he could manage was a whiny, "Dude, come on. Can‘t we just..."

"SMACK!"

He was suddenly cut off by a blistering swat of a hand to his ass cheek.

"Listen to the doctor when he's talking to you, boy." Phillip pressed his leering face within inches of the helpless man's ear. "You are not going to do anything but sit here and take your medicine," Phillip hissed.

"The doctor knows exactly what's best for you. So you just SHUT THE FUCK UP and lie still!"

"SMACK – SMACK – SMACK!!!"

Phillip delivered three rapid-fire spanks to the boy's naked bottom. Travis froze, trembling, sweat dripping into his stinging eyes. Those spanks really stung, and clenching his buttocks in anticipation of the next blow only inflamed the throb and burn from that goo in his butt hole.

"Right then, Doctor. We should prepare the area!" Phillip handed the spray bottle to the doctor who squirted alcohol over the entire surface of the boy's buttocks, drenching him in the pungent liquid. He made sure that plenty of the caustic liquid dripped down his butt crack and over his tenderized hole. The boy's upturned bottom glistened as he writhed helplessly.

A sudden, forceful jab drove a three-inch needle deep into the vulnerable gluteus muscle. Richard was starting to enjoy himself.

"Yeee-ouch!" Travis squealed in pain. He was absolutely terrified of needles.

Phillip laid down his clipboard and moved behind the naked man. "There there," he purred. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" He grabbed the young man's exposed testicles and gave them a quick squeeze.

Travis jerked his head painfully off the bed, terrified of what the sadistic nurse was going to do. But, just as suddenly, Phillip let go of the boy's balls and gave them a small, sudden flick with his middle finger. The bright, sharp pain shot though his testicle and all the way up his leg. He screamed.

"Now, Travis. Don‘t make such a fuss." Phillip tickled his scrotum and the boy jumped. Even the smallest movement caused a fresh flash of burning inside his rectum.

"Please!" He moaned with hopeless misery. "Let me go!"

"Now, now. We can't let you go until you've had your full course of treatment. How could we? That just wouldn't be...ethical!"

"Arghhh!" Travis grunted as the doctor blasted him first with an icy shot of alcohol spray followed immediately by the jab of a second hypodermic needle.

"Doc, I think we better monitor his temperature," Phillip stated dispassionately. "This boy seems to be getting awfully worked up. He jabbed the thermometer back in the angry red hole with a fresh blob of Icy Hot.

Travis whimpered.

The doctor continued to alternate icy blast with vicious stab, until the boy‘s bottom looked like a shiny pincushion.

Travis' head started to spin. The brutal contrasts between the cold spray, the biting jabs, and the searing internal burn caused his mind to overload. And he blacked out.

She wandered into the kitchen. She was not really hungry, but she decided she was curious what the big deal was about the bag in the refrigerator. She took one look and, realizing what it was, thought, "No way am I even touching that nasty thing!" With a small sneer of disgust, Tiffany let the refrigerator door fall shut and drifted back into the living room.

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Click here for Chapter Four

A Sore Bottom for Travis - Chapter Four

"He‘s seems to have passed out." Richard sounded a little worried, as he plucked, one-by-one, the collection of syringes from the boy's ravaged bottom.

"This'll wake him up." Phillip replied with confidence. He handed the other man one of a pair of red rubber flip-flops, which Travis had been wearing when he arrived.

Unsure, Richard took the floppy rubber sandal proffered by the grinning nurse.

"Lemme show you what I have in mind." Phillip tapped the sandal smartly against his open palm.

"It's all in the wrist." He landed a mighty swat on the boy's bottom.

"CRACK!"

"Muh-ther-FUK-ker!" Travis jerked suddenly awake. "Cut it out!" he screamed. "Let! Me! Go!!"

"I'm so sorry!" Phillip replied with mock concern. "How could I be so thoughtless!?" He patted one bare bottom cheek with the flip-flop. "I should have warned you. I'm afraid this is going to hurt a little bit." He smiled sweetly.

"Here. I think this will help." He picked the man's underwear off the floor, balled it up, and crammed it in his mouth. "I find it always helps to give the patient something to bite down on."

Travis grunted and tried to respond, but his words were completely muffled by the smelly cloth in his mouth.

Richard looked quizzically at his friend. This was starting to get really weird. On the one hand, he hated the bastard for humiliating him in the park and ripping him off—and, he was furious that the little fucker had the balls to fuck with him in his place of work. On the other hand...this was definitely getting weird. He was a doctor for chrissakes, and a good person. He had no interest in hurting other people, and he had always thought revenge was immoral. However, he had also led a pretty privileged life. He'd never experienced any real hardship and nothing bad had ever really happened to him...until this.

So, when Phillip—a guy Richard knew to be pretty kinky, but basically a good man—began to smack the naked butt in front of him with the flip-flop, he was shocked by an inexplicable desire to do it too.

Richard was tentative at first, and popped the upturned left buttock with a small flick of his wrist. The floppy rubber shoe made a satisfying "SMACK" as it landed squarely on the shiny surface of the helpless man's buttock. Travis grunted.

"Right on, Doc!" Phillip followed immediately with an identical smack to the other cheek.

"WHAP!"

Richard's face went hot. A fresh surge of pent-up anger was suddenly released and the feeling of being left face-down, his naked junk pressed into the dirt rushed back to him. He remembered those bastards in the car and he literally saw red. He shook his head and blinked. His vision cleared and all he could see was the upturned ass on the table. He focused on the target—the cause of his misery—and he let loose with a blistering swat that cracked across both cheeks.

"That‘s it, buddy." Phillip's voice was husky. He followed with another swat that perfectly matched the doctor's. "Let that little fucker have it!"

Richard suddenly had the weird experience of slipping out of his own head. His whole body felt alive and he was breathing hard.

"WHAP!" He planted another perfect swat on the man's bottom.

"WHAP!" Phillip echoed the blow.

"WHAP! WHAP!...WHAP! WHAP!" They traded licks with machine-like precision.

Travis jerked his naked bottom from side-to-side trying to avoid the swats.

"WHAP! WHAP!!" As the punishment continued, Phillip felt the unmistakable pressure of a growing erection straining against the confining fabric of his underpants.

The nurse glanced up at his co-worker's face and was struck by the intensity of his concentration. The doc was totally into this!

"That‘s right, Doc! Let it go! Give that little fucker what he deserves!" The two men fell back into rhythm, matching each other's force and velocity. The boy's bottom turned a deep shade of pink that further deepened with every smack.

Travis moaned and squirmed, helplessly trying to dodge the swats.

As suddenly as it had come upon him, the energy to spank this man dissipated. Richard let his arm drop to his side. He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed. Phillip looked at his friend.

"He had it coming, Doc," he said quietly. "The little bastard had it coming."

Unconsciously, the nurse pushed the heel of his palm against his straining erection. His hard cock eased into a more comfortable position and snaked stiffly down the leg of his trousers. The doctor's gaze went first from Phillip's face to his crotch and back again. He tilted his head quizzically.

"I think we should let him go now.v Richard's voice was a whisper. "I think he's had enough." He reached over and pulled the damp garment from Travis' mouth.

"Muh-ther-FUK-kers!" Travis screamed. He struggled against the ropes. "I‘ll get you for this! You haven‘t seen the last of me!"

Phillip looked over at the doctor and raised an eyebrow. Gently he pulled the balled-up underwear from the doctor‘s hand, and crammed it back into the helpless man's mouth.

Denise was starting to get antsy. She called Richard on his cell, but he didn't answer. She remembered the blueberry scones they had bought the day before. "He really loves those scones," she thought.

"Maybe it would raise his spirits if I took him one." Suddenly determined, she grabbed one of the sugary pastries for each of them, laid them gently into a sack, and stepped purposefully out the back door.

Richard had grave misgivings about what Phillip was proposing. He was straight goddammit! But Phillip could be very persuasive—and what he suggested had a perverse justice to it. Nothing would be more humiliating for a straight guy than what Phillip had in mind. The memory of Denise having to scrub those words off his back still made his eyes sting. He just wasn't sure he could go through with it.

"Look, Doc," Phillip's direct gaze was unnerving. "It's just what this little fucker deserves." The surprise glare of a flash temporarily blinded the doctor as Phillip moved to the other side of the bed and took another photo of the naked man with the phone from the backpack.

Travis moaned miserably, his mouth stuffed with skivvy. The trussed boy swayed side-to-side, hips aching from the injections, scorched anus throbbing, and buttocks stinging. He listened intently, mind spinning, trying to figure out what else these two bastards had up their sleeves.

Phillip put the phone down and moved close to the handsome young doctor. He laid his arm across the man's shoulder and gently massaged the taut muscles in his neck.

Richard's mind began to spin. He had never experienced such an overwhelming mixture of emotions—rage, humiliation, revenge. And now...

"Let me say, Doc," Phillip's breath was warm on the side of his neck. "I can't begin to know everything you've gone through or truly understand what you‘re feeling. But one thing I know is that you didn't deserve any of it...and this little shit deserves everything he gets." Phillip's strong hand felt good kneading his shoulder.

Richard looked at the naked man on the table and the muscles across the front of his chest tightened. What was happening to him?

"I‘m going to show you something and I want you to trust me." Phillip held out the palm of his free hand. Richard considered the broad masculine hand before him.

"Do you trust me?" His voice was gentle, persistent. Richard nodded.

Slowly, Phillip laid his open hand on Richard's flat stomach. The man inhaled sharply. Every nerve on the surface of his belly sprang to life.

"Do you trust me?" Richard let out his breath in a rush as Phillip moved his hand slowly toward his crotch. "This is what I wanted to show you..." He gripped the prominent swell of a fully erect penis. Richard gasped. His knees went weak.

"It's OK. It's OK." Phillip's strong grip kept him from falling—one hand under his armpit and the other firmly grasping his hard cock. Every nerve in Richard's body was alive.

"It's OK. It doesn‘t mean anything." He withdrew his hand from the doctor's crotch and patted him on the shoulder. "It's just your body responding naturally to a very intense situation."

Travis' eyes were wide as he took it all in. Phillip gently released his grip on the doctor's crotch and turned his head toward the naked man. Travis made a noise.

"No, motherfucker. We haven't forgotten about you." Phillip moved over to the table and gave the upturned ass a full-armed slap. Travis jumped. All the dormant indignities flared painfully when he clenched his cheeks.

"Now listen to me carefully. Me and the doc here have decided we're gonna let you go." Travis snapped to attention. "But before we do, we're going to make sure we never hear from you again." Travis nodded stupidly and tried to say something that was muffled by the underwear in his mouth.

Phillip moved to Richard's side. "A vicious little shit like you doesn't deserve a second chance, but the doc here is a good guy. So here's what's going to happen. You're gonna show us how sorry you are and convince us that we're never going to hear from you again...ever! And, we're going to put it on video as insurance that you will keep your word."

Travis blinked up at his captors and mumbled incomprehensibly.

"Doc, you ready to do this?"

Head swirling with an overwhelming mixture of emotion and physical arousal, the doctor silently nodded. Gravely, Phillip returned the nod and gestured toward Travis. Together, the two men helped the naked, trussed figure to his feet. Travis was suddenly lightheaded and felt like he was going to be sick. The two men steadied him between them.

Phillip plucked the saliva-soaked garment from the boy's mouth and dropped it to the floor.

"Now listen to me carefully," Phillip instructed. "You're gonna do something that you're not going to like. And we're going to capture the whole thing on video." He glanced over at the doc's crotch and was reassured by the prominent bulge.

"We're going to give you a little obedience training. Here's how it will work. The doc here is gonna beat your ass some more with this strap." Phillip showed him one of the broad leather straps used to restrain out-of-control psychiatric patients. "And you're gonna take it. Right, boy?" After a moment of silence, Travis nodded miserably.

"That's a boy!" Phillip sounded like he was training a dog. "Now hop over here and jump up on this gurney." Phillip patted him lightly on his tender, swollen bottom, urging him toward the small, mobile bed.

"Good boy," urged Phillip.

Suddenly, the nurse pushed the trussed boy face-down onto the gurney. Travis had no choice but to fall heavily forward onto his face. With a deft, practiced movement, Phillip cinched the ankle ropes, forcing the helpless boy into a hog-tied position.

"Still with us, boy?" Travis nodded. "Good. Here's what you're gonna do...You're gonna voluntarily hold your butt up for the good doctor to strap. This will show us how obedient you are and whether it's gonna be safe to cut you loose. Understand?" Travis mumbled in the affirmative.

"OK then." Phillip solemnly handed the strap to Richard and nodded toward the boy's bare bottom. Richard faltered as if unsure what he was supposed to do.

"Go ahead, Doc," Phillip coaxed.

As if suddenly waking from a dream, Richard raised the strap high above his head and planted a blistering swat with the strap that landed soundly across both cheeks. Travis howled as the strap revived all the sensations from the previous spanking and injections as well as delivering a sharp, new pain all its own.

"OK, well, that was pretty good." Phillip patted the naked man patronizingly on the head. "But, we're just getting started. The doc here is going to give you a total of ten good whacks with that strap and you‘'e going to push that sweet tush of yours up all on your own and give the doc a good target. Understand me?" Again, Travis mumbled his assent.

Just ten? His dad used to beat him way more than that. Travis thought he could do this.

"All right, doc. It looks like he's ready." The nurse nodded toward the doctor who looked on grimly. "Ten good ones!"

Phillip turned to the boy on the gurney. "Get your ass ready, boy." To Phillip's amazement, without further threat or inducement, the boy awkwardly raised his bare butt in the air and readied himself for the first swat.

"That‘s really good," Phillip remarked. "But, there's one more little thing..." He crouched down next to the naked boy's head, pulled a large pink dildo out of a bag, and showed it to him. "We need to loosen you up a bit, brother, and get you ready for what comes next." With a firm, corkscrew motion, the nurse forced the obscene rubber organ against the boy's unyielding mouth.

"Come on now, boy," Phillip insisted. "You want this to be over, don't you?" He could see the gears turning in the boy's head. A broad grin suddenly spread across Phillip's face as he recognized that delicious moment of surrender. Face scrunched in disgust, the beaten boy slowly opened his mouth to accept the artificial phallus.

"That's a boy. Take it all the way in." The boy gagged, but didn't resist...much.

Suddenly, with a loud "CRACK," the doctor delivered a mighty wrapping blow squarely across both upturned cheeks.

"Wow, Doc!" Phillip exclaimed in admiration. "That was a good one!" His excited voice was thick with arousal. Both men paused and watched the naked boy's reaction.

And then Phillip's mouth fell open in sheer astonishment. The naked boy, giant rubber plug in his throat and without being told, slowly raised his bottom for the next blow.

As if synchronized in some Dante-esque ballet, the doctor and the punished boy repeated this same set of motions over and over again eight more times, each time eliciting a deep inward groan of pain.

Phillip was transfixed. Suddenly realizing that he was holding his breath, the nurse exhaled deeply.

"This is the last one, Doc," he said, recovering himself. "Make it a good one!"

"KER-RACK!" Came the blazing reply. The dildo stifled a scream. Travis' entire body lurched.

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Click here for Chapter five