Alyx and Unk
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 02 Dec 1996
..... And so we return to our two young lads as they arrive home after their rather eventful evening.
"UNK? Alyx? is that you boys? We've been worried sick. What has happened?"
"Just a minute, Mom. I'll be right in," he calls. (Even Mom calls him UNK: after Alyx uttered that syllable as his first spoken word, it stuck. How many boys do YOU know who got to name their Masters?)
"Is Alyx with you, dear?"
Alyx grabs his uncle by the hand and almost starts to cry again. He whispers urgently... "I CAN'T let them see me this way, I CAN'T."
"Don't worry, little buddy." UNK massages the back of his neck and briefly holds him close. I'll take care of things. You go right on up and start getting ready for bed, boy." And he sends him off with a light pat on the butt.
Alyx yells, "OW!"
"Shit. Sorry, I forgot. SHHH! Go on, baby, I'll be right up. Coming, Mom!" and he rushes into the sitting room so his parents don't notice that Alyx is climbing the stairs rather gingerly.
"Alyx, come on down here and give me a kiss goodnight."
"NO MA. Let him go......." and UNK begins to explain, in a lower voice..... "He's really embarrassed. It was a big scene. The other men decided to have all the boys spanked together...... we had to go along with it. Just leave him alone for now before he has one of his fits again."
Much to his relief, his mother accepts the explanation, and as he bends over her chair to kiss her, she looks up at him and caresses his cheek: "What did I do to deserve such a son as you, UNK? Your father and I would be at our wit's end if you weren't so good with that boy. And look at you... not even out of high school yet, and carrying all the weight of a middle-aged father. I'm sorry it has to be this way....."
"Don't start, Ma, please? It's fine. You know I'd do anything for him. I don't mind at all. Just don't you worry about a thing, OK? I gotta go, Ma. We're real tired. We'll talk in the morning." One more peck on the cheek and he's off, and as he heads up the stairs you can bet he breathes a big sigh of relief.
But it is a lot for him to bear and, in case you haven't noticed, he is NOT that rock that so many think he is. In fact, it is no accident that the school he most wants to go to after graduation is 300 miles away...... But that is another chapter. And for the moment, all our hero is concerned about is the boy in the room at the top of the stairs.
Unk opens the door and walks into the room. Except for the light in the bathroom (which fortunately adjoins their room), the room is dark. Alyx is seated on his bed (the one that is never really used much), shoes and socks off, his jacket on the floor, not moving, not saying a word.
Neither of them speak. Each is lost inside a whole pile of thoughts and feelings far too complex to find expression in the mouths of boys that age. But, as he has done so many times in the past, UNK looks at this boy whom he loves more than he can understand why, who as he enters the stage of puberty still looks like his mother when she was in school, same golden brown hair, big brown eyes, the same smile, skin tone, the same angelic look. And UNK notices, as he has so many times in the past, that the tear-stained puffy red-eyed lad before him somehow radiates a pure beauty even in his sadness, a beauty that says, "Come to me. Touch me. Lose yourself in my need for you. I need you more than the air I breathe." And, as he has done so many, many times, UNK turns off his mind and follows his instinct, his entire being fixed on his Axxy, his only purpose in life to do what Axxy's need signals must be done. And, as always, what he does for the boy is perfect because it is fueled by selfless devotion. (Some in our time may call it co-dependency..... but then again, what do they know of this bond that links the lives of these boys together? Facile psychological catch-phrases can never do justice to the intricacy of what is so close to the sacred.)
And so, UNK goes over to the boy and kneels on the floor before him. He takes his hands and kisses them. And places them on his shoulders. And, ever so gently, with his hands under the boy's elbows, helps him to stand with as little discomfort as possible.
He stands as well. His hand goes to the back of Alyx's neck, to that place where Alyx feels secure and loved, and responds much as a kitten does when its mother picks it up by the back of its vulnerable little neck.
Not a word is spoken. Alyx falls once again into his arms, but this time does not cry. He just holds on. And for a brief moment, it is difficult to know who is comforting whom, or who is the strong one, or who is most in need of that certain tenderness that is the requisite flip side of the pain - or who, for that matter, has been beaten up the most.
UNK steps back, and ever so gently, lifts the boy's t-shirt and pulls it up over his head, his fingers caressing his flesh as they raise the shirt.
Alyx raises his arms but does nothing to help the process along. He remains completely passive, and submissive, and open, and vulnerable. As his shirt comes off, UNK gazes on the light brown soft fuzz that has begun to sprout under his boy's arms, and he leans forward and kisses him... there... on each side. Alyx breathes deeply; he is being possessed in ways that few men ever can discover, and his breath invites his beloved to make that possession even deeper.
UNK brings the boy's hands down, and again, gently stroking his hairless chest, moves to his jeans and opens his belt.
As soon as he touches the belt, Alyx's eyes pop open and silently he looks into his uncle's and asks, "More? Is that what you want to do?"
But just as quickly, the reply comes from the deep blue of the older boy: "No, my love. No. Relax. Don't be afraid. No more now. Only gentle caring."
And to show that he means it, UNK takes special special care in opening the boy's jeans and in bringing them down over the leather-ravaged flesh. Alyx again remains motionless, waiting, trusting, ready to receive whatever might come, even another whipping, but hoping that it is over for the night.
Finally, and, mind you, this is the first time this has happened since Alyx was a toddler, his uncle puts his fingers inside the waist band of Alyx's briefs and opens them, again taking care not to abuse the punished skin any further. And pulls down, releasing the slave's hardness, down over all the private flesh, the seat of pain and pleasure, down his legs, off his feet, until, lit only by the dim light of the other room and the moonlight streaming in towards the window, he has before him what to many a lecher, pederast, or medieval slavemaster would be a sight of exquisite beauty: a young lad, naked, whipped, aroused, and completely under the spell of he who owns him.
Finally, UNK breaks the silence and speaks: "Take the covers and blankets off your bed, boy, and lay down on your tummy. I'll be right back."
He returns with a plastic bottle of baby oil and sits beside the punished boy. Alyx looks at him, and without moving too much, manages to kiss his uncle's hand in gratitude.
"This should help."
And, pouring a good amount of the oil into his hand, he lays his hand on an unwounded part of the boy's back. (Mr. Harris believed in whipping boys' entire backs and butts, and had laid a couple of vicious ones on Alyx before UNK stepped in to take care of things himself.) With a gentleness rarely ever seen in one his age, UNK touches his nephew and slowly begins to help him adjust to his touch, long before he slowly ventures to move his fingers over the most wounded places on his body.
Alyx begins to moan, and occassionally to yelp where most tender. UNK, guided by the music, slowly and tirelessly manages to subdue the pain and cover every inch of his boy's back, butt and thighs, until Alyx is breathing steadily and moaning not the moan of the flogged slave, but rather the contented safe song of the loved and soothed son. The oil sinks into his welts and bruises, and brings healing to his body and his spirit. Or is it UNK himself, and what flows from his own heart into his boy's chastised flesh? Hmmmmmmm......
He whispers, "Did you brush your teeth, sweet one?" Alyx nods. "Let me go get myself ready for bed too. I'll be right back... you sleep if you have to. I'll come for you."
And he heads into the bathroom and closes the door. (Slight diversion: UNK is really a modest, somewhat inhibited fellow. For an entire year he slept with Alyx in his arms, and even before that, he never once made an advance, never once took advantage, never once paraded his own nude body in front of the boy. In fact, Alyx was the one who... another chapter.)
Alyx lies motionless in the dark. What must be going through his mind? He quickly falls asleep and dreams of flying through the sky on a gloriously brilliant day, carried in his winged uncle's arms, naked as a cherub, soaring above the crowd while the boys below - the same boys who were laughing at him during his moments of utter humiliation - look up and cheer and scream, "We love you Alyx!" as his uncle soars into the heavens with him.
Suddenly, he awakes. UNK, dressed in t-shirt and running shorts, is standing before him, gently covering his naked body. "WHAAAAA..... NO! NO! NO!"
"SHH!!!!" .... hand to neck..... "Shh, baby. I didn't want to wake you."
"No, no, please don't leave me here alone. I wanna be wif you, you take me, please... don't care about hurt. Please unky... wif you wif you." Thirteen-year-old baby talk never fails to have its result.
"OK, boy. Sure. I'm here. Don't worry. Why don't you get up so I dont hurt you?"
UNK helps the boy get up off the bed, and cradles him in his arms. Together they make their way to the bigger bed (another chapter perhaps). UNK gets in first, and then reaches out for his baby... "come on Axxy, come be safe with me. Careful... no more pain tonite."
Finally, they are together, in the position that they have come to call their "sleepnest." UNK lies on his right side, while Alyx nestles, on his back, within the fold of his hero's arm, head pressed up against his chest, hands holding on to the arm which is draped across his stomach, holding him close. UNK kisses his head and gently tousles the boy's hair.
Alyx sighs, safe at home at last. His hand moves down lower, to meet the boycock which has once again sprung to life, and he begins caressing himself, slowly, quietly, as if not to disturb his protector.
But UNK has indeed noticed. And he remembers what the boy told him on the way home, how he always relieved himself alone whenever he had endured a spanking. And he remembers the effect that the lash had produced in him earlier that evening in the woodshed.
He whispers gently in the boy's ear... "You want that, don't you, Axxy?"
"But, Alyx, what if I wanted it?"
He gently places his hand over the boy's cradling hand and the warm hard needy flesh. "This, Alyx. What if I wanted to be its master? Would you give it to me, Axxy?"
"Unky, I give you all of me. That too. Yours. Yours." Alyx moves his hand away, and presses the master's hand closer to his crotch.
"OK then, Alyx...." and he kisses his neck and squeezes just a bit harder. "You know what I want it to do for me, boy?"
"Anything you want, unky. Yours, yours."
"OK then, Alyx." He moves his hand away and caresses the boy's cheek. "I want it to go to sleep. With us. Now." And he places his hand over Alyx's hands, in a form of gentle bondage.
And Alyx breathes a deep breath, and suddenly feels more humiliated, and also more possessed, than at any other point in the entire evening.
And at this moment, this juncture in a night of junctures, he has to make a decision.
Another deep breath.
And he kisses his master's hand, and snuggles deeper. And sleeps better than he has since the night his mother had died.
To be continued...
Go to the contents page for this series.