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: 13 Feb 2018
For the next several weeks, Mark went to bed with his arms tied behind him each night, and started each day with a morning spanking from his
older brother, Steve White.
Over time, the young man began to evidence changes in his attitude and outlook. Although he tried to hold onto an inner distance and reluctance to become closer to his captor, assistant coach, Steve White, Mark found his defenses crumbling.
At first, he tried to think of way, and retain thoughts, of passive resistance and possible escape. In primal regions of his mind, and in his groin, he craved the stimulating measures the coach and masseur applied to him.
Lying on his back, nude, his bound arms behind and under him, Mark was a ready object of the coach’s actions upon the younger man’s different erotic zones. The sensory stimuli at those zones triggered the young teacher’s straining and reaching, with all the passionate might he could muster, toward the sweet paradise of orgasms.
Starting with fingering the young teacher’s mouth and lips, his friend and captor’s hands ran down Mark’s neck, shoulders, and chest, focusing repeatedly on the sensitive nipples, delving further down the concave stomach, abdomen to the sensitive, inner thighs, before concluding with the lean, erect, young member standing up straight.
Mark was caught in the swirling sexual tide that swept him more and more eagerly and irretrievably into its current and undertow, casting him up only after a thorough and wild abandon in the vortex of ravenous sexual passions.
The coach’s massive missile launched within him, along with fingering caresses of his nipples and clasps of his buttocks, drove the skinny, young teacher to tremours as waves of orgasmic rapture overwhelmed him.
All this often followed a session over the coach’s knee with a receiving scorching spanking. More and more, Mark was a prisoner of his own, mixed, conflicting, yet increasingly resistless emotions and feelings.
He felt the familiar dread and sense of fear at the impending, inevitable licking; yet he also knew afterward, his hungering horniness would be filled and sated by wild, ecstatic penetration and impalement on the coach’s engorged organ.
When the licking was over, he was pulled back up, sobbing and heaving, tears streaming down his reddened face. Standing there naked, on shaky, wobbly legs, his hands plastered on his glowing red, hot, raw, sore bum, were frantically rubbing and massaging, trying to douse the inferno ignited there, heedless of the spectacle he made.
Stomping up and down, leaning backwards bawling unashamedly, his erect solider stood tall and at attention, saluting and bobbing, longing for the owning touch of his captor to transform the wildly deranged emotions of being spanked into the insatiable, interchanged cravings of erotic pleasure and climax together.
The young teacher faced an inescapable quandary. He wanted the big, young, assistant coach to stop, but was desperate for him to continue.
After a few weeks of this captive regimen passed, until one evening, the two, naked young men sat together, closely leaning into each other. In the lingering sunset, Mark suddenly spoke softly, but pointedly, stunning his captor-friend.
Ah, Stuh-eve, ah, please listen to me, Mark addressed the assistant coach. Steve looked over,
carefully eyeing the younger man.
Steve, I want to tell you I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again, try to runaway. I promise. I like you, Steve, honest, I do. The longer I’m around you, with you, the better it feels, the more I enjoy, really like, it.
You don’t have to keep me tied and bound up. And you don’t need to keep spanking me to make me comply and cooperate. You can trust me now, I promise.
The subdued, chastened adjurer earnestly entreated his captor, seeking reassurance he would not be subjected to the same, punishing treatment again. Steve sat quietly staring into the magnetic, blue eyes of the young teacher, staring deep into the young man’s soul.
Suddenly Mark blurted out,
Okay, okay, okaaaay, you can spank me. You were right to spank me. I shouldn’t have tried to run away. I was wrong.
You should spank me when I’m wrong, when I’ve been bad. I know I deserve to be punished, and you’re the one to do it, the submissive young man spoke clearly, almost as if reading from a memorized script.
Steve ceased staring, and reached around, and under, his captive friend, lifting him up in his arms, while leaning down and planting a long kiss on the younger man’s mouth. The earnest and hearty reciprocation not only thrilled and please the captor, it excited him sexually to take this smaller, skinnier, young teacher to their tent immediately.
There, the assistant coach dominated the sexually stimulating foreplay, sending younger Mark Wickham into orbits of erotic excitement and arousal. Steve pulled out all the stops. He invaded the young teacher, penetrating and drilling until the smaller man felt as if he would split open from the impaling intruder.
Simultaneously, the bigger coach engulfed Mark’s throbbing penis in his mouth, suctioning it to explosive climax, while extending one arm and hand to grasp and squeeze, alternately, the smaller man’s nipples, while grasping and squeezing a recently spanked butt cheek in the other. The dizzying height of interchanged passion was beyond their many experiences together.
That night, the two men, without Mark’s arms being bound, lay ensconced together, the younger smaller scooped into the bigger, stronger, where they slept until daybreak. Both recognized Steve had finally achieved a breakthrough with Mark.
Much of the time they spent sequestered in the woods, camping, they were nude, or wore the sparsest minimum. Steve did buy Mark a pair of jeans at the camp store, which were small enough around the waist (a 29), but woefully short in the legs, ending above the young teacher’s ankles.
Over time, as they spent the rest of the summer together, Mark seemed to regress, looking and acting far younger than his 22 years of age. This was aided by Steve’s insisting on the young man being kept free of all body hair, and with a very short haircuts.
It was also the inevitable product of being kept on a short, tight leash and punished by Coach Steve White, regularly, and at once for every instance of disobedience. The young man appeared and acted increasingly like a skittish, young boy under the control and authority of his older brother.
Mark did not resist or resent any of it. He began to feel he had never known security, love, or true pleasure before Steve White.
At the coach’s every touch, command, and every second spent together, whether in blissful delight or torturous pain, the young teacher felt his heart, his soul, his mind settling down to peace as he conformed to the control of his captor-coach.
He felt protected, spoiled, punished, encouraged, and guided by the bigger, assistant coach. He felt he had finally received what he needed: strength, boundaries, humility, growth and development. They were forging a delicate balance: give and take, pleasure and pain.
Together their relationship grew closer, developing deeper. While unquestionably in control, Steve helped build up self-esteem in Mark, telling him he was stronger than he thought, able to do more than he expected.
At times, Steve revealed his own feelings by flattering the young man, calling him
hot, little, looker boy. Mark never failed to blush instantly crimson, but also turned and grinned fondly at his friend.
As the weeks unfolded, parting, separating, saying goodbye became an inconceivable idea. It was as Steve had said all along: they belonged together.
What they each sensed with each other was fulfillment. Mark was the most relaxed, at peace, he’d every been: free from anxiety and stress-driven depression; feeling and relishing the feeling of complete fulfillment Steve supplied him.
So, what had begun as a rough, unexpected and unwanted summer became an experience unlike anything Mark could have imagined. Mark did not object to, but freely accepted and welcomed, Steve’s all-consuming access to the young teachers’ body, mind, emotions and will.
As the summer wound it way toward the end, he and his captor, his friend, coach, and masseur, Steve White became strangely inconceivably close. Intertwined, they treasured their reciprocal sharing of each other together: the days and the nights, freely and fully, uninhibited and unembarrassed.
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