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Stress Relief
Chapter 1

by Aprettyboy

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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: 26 Oct 2010

Stress Relief


The paddle smacked Chris across the seat of his jeans, the force of the blow driving him to his toes. He dug his fingers into the back of the sofa as sharp pain shot from under the wood, followed by a rush of heat in his ass. He grunted as his body absorbed the shock wave, and swayed forward with a slight shudder. He'd never though a punishment more suited for a naughty child than a grown man of twenty-five could hurt so much.

Behind him Trent waited until he settled on his heels before swatting him again. Chris came forward onto his toes, his eyes scrunched closed, hands clutching at the upholstery. Twice as much pain swept over him, and the heat that followed in its wake made him grind his teeth. He grunted, swayed forward, and then pushed back to the required position – feet apart, heels on the floor, bent over, with his arms straight and his back arched. Every adjustment put his butt up and out.

They settled into a brutal rhythm – the whap of the board across his seat, the involuntary reaction to the pain, and then the conscious and difficult decision to stick his ass out for more. Often, as he stood there waiting, his cheeks throbbing, he wondered why the hell he willingly submitted to such pain. His best friend could not force him to do this. Chris was bigger, and stronger. At any time he could take that paddle away from Trent and break it across his thigh. He could declare an end to the spanking therapy, and that would be that.

But he didn't.

Instead he bent over and let Trent blister his tail. Chris endured because this treatment worked. Oh how he hated it now, but later, when it was over, he'd be at peace. Cleansed. Released.

Whap! Whap!

His grunts turned into gasps and his body trembled. The firm, hard strokes left fire in their wake. His knees weakened and he sagged.

“Com'on baby, keep that bottom up for me.” Trent tapped the board across his buttocks as Chris struggled to push his ass to the obedient position. Up and out. Perfect target.

Trent walloped him hard.

“Ohhh!” Chris sucked air between his teeth.

“That's right, baby. Let me see how much it hurts you.”

Trent wanted a reaction, but pride made Chris hold out. Except for that first time, when he'd been totally stunned and unprepared, he always made it past ten, usually past twenty strokes before he broke. He'd lost count today.

Trent kept paddling.

Chris began to pant. Everything else in the world disappeared. He was only aware of his throbbing backside. The searing heat demanded all his attention, until he'd reached the point where he couldn't stay quiet.

“Oh, ohh! Oh it hurts!”

“Oh, I know, baby. It's supposed to.” Trent paused to let him catch his breath. “Let me see that sore fanny.”

Chris goaned, and stood up to unbuckle his belt, and undo his fly. When he pushed his jeans and underwear down, heat rolled from his skin. A deep ache throbbed inside his glute muscles.

“All the way off.”

Chris goaned again, and stepped out of his pants.

“Now, bend back over and put that bare butt up for me.”

Chris gripped the back of the sofa and assumed the position.

He felt Trent's hands on his scorched ass, squeezing, patting, soothing. “Nice and red. Hot.”

“Hurts,” he gasped.

His friend laughed softly. “And it's going to hurt more. Spread your legs.”

Chris shifted his feet apart a little.

The paddle tapped the insides of his thighs. “Wide.”

He went down, with his chest on the back of the sofa his legs splayed open. His cock and balls dangled, totally exposed. His cheeks pulled apart providing full view of his anus. It clenched and released involuntarily as full blown fear made Chris tremble. Trent always provided plenty of pain, but no injury, and their sessions had always gone that way. Each time he put himself in this vulnerable position, he placed full trust in Trent to hurt and yet protect him.

Chris felt the paddle rub his cheeks then pull back. He held his breath.


“Oh!” Worse, much worse now without even a thin layer of fabric to protect him.

Trent picked up the pace, not waiting for Chris to settle each time. The room echoed with the pops of wood landing on his butt, followed by a yelp he couldn't contain. He started to hyperventilate, sucking in more air than he had room for in his lungs.

“Arghhh, oh, owww!”

“That's it,” Trent encouraged.

“Ohhhhh, God!” He shuddered and writhed.

The paddle continued to explode against his ass. He fell forward over the back of the sofa, his arms and legs going tense then weak as he bucked. “Stop! OHHH Stop!” he cried. “Please, please, ohhhhhh stop!”

Trent didn't. The begging and babbling didn't really mean stop to him.

Chris knew he could just as easily end this session with a word, a safe word they'd agreed upon long ago, but he didn't say it. Instead he whimpered. He could feel tears starting to well up. Trent beat him even harder. And then, Chris started to cry. He pressed his face into one of the sofa pillows and sobbed, a dribbling, slobbering, broken mess.

Whap! Whap!

Two more just to make sure he was really over the edge, and Trent stopped. He cupped the swollen cheeks.

“That's it, baby. That's my good boy.”

Chris moaned.

Trent massaged again, and kissed the small of his back. “Are you okay, baby?”

Chris shuddered and sniffed. “Yeah.”

“How's your fanny feel?”

His muscles tightened up. “Like I sat in a pan of burning coals.”

Trent kissed his back again. “It looks great.”

“Uhh,” he groaned. How could this look great? It was humiliating.

“Just relax now, baby. I'll finish you up.”


He heard the snap of latex gloves. Trent teased between his parted cheeks and touched his anus with a dab of lube.

Chris grunted as his rectum took the full length of Trent's index finger. When Trent pressed his prostate, his penis quivered and began to grow, until he had a full erection.

“Would you like to cum, baby?”

Chris was still half crying. No he didn't really want to be fingered and jacked-off by another man, but he'd come to need it.

Trent continued plunging between his raw cheeks. “Would you like to cum?”

“Yes.” He croaked the one word answer.

“That's a good boy. Cum for me.”

Chris whimpered, concentrating on the intense burn in his backside and the deep penetration inflicted on him now. Trent reached around and stroked his friend's hard cock. Chris' balls tightened. His body convulsed. With a guttural cry, he ejaculated, the orgasm so strong he lost all other senses for those moments.

Nothing had ever been like this for Chris. It was weird and wild, painful and deeply satisfying all at the same time. His body went limp over the sofa, and he lay like that, dazed, his buns aching, but the stress that built up in his daily life alleviated.

Tomorrow it would be his turn to paddle Trent.

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