I drive to my home in the rich suburbs every evening after work. It’s a large house, with a pool and an acre of so of land. It’s just like every other house in the street. There must be hundreds of thousands of houses like mine across the country. Neat lawns, televisions flickering in the front room. All the houses are the same – except mine has Nate.
Nate will be waiting. He’ll be naked, except for a pair of tight briefs. This evening he will wear the gray ones; they are among my favourite. They show everything. His tight buttocks, the crack down the middle and his package. The briefs are short and tight, but no hairs will be showing. I make him shave every day.
Nate is my houseboy. Nate’s not his real name; I can’t remember what that is. I’ve always called my houseboys “Nate.” I keep each Nate for about three months and then I discard them. That makes this Nate, Nate-7. I’ve never had any problem with an ex-Nate. I lavish them with gifts while they’re with me and they get five thousand in cash when they leave. No one is under the illusion any of this is about love.
It’s about lust and power. My lust. My power.
Nate will be waiting for me with a drink the moment I walk through the door. He’ll have made arrangements for supper. Nate-7 is quite a good cook, so sometimes he makes a meal. Other times we’ll have something delivered.
Once I’ve settled down and changed out of my work suit, I’ll spank him. I don’t spank him because he has done anything “naughty”; I spank him because I can. Nate gets it. That’s his role in life. At least while he lives under my roof.
My Nates are all in their early twenties. Sure, I want to spank eighteen-year-old boys; who doesn’t. There’s a new guy at work, long fair hair, open sun-tanned face and tight buns that are crying out to be spanked. He’s got a lot of attitude, like so many kids today. He actually deserves to be taken across my knee.
But it won’t happen. It won’t happen because the kid’s too young to get it. To understand his place. Twenty-somethings have lived a bit; they realise life ain’t so easy. They get it.
So, I’ll spank Nate and then I’ll take him upstairs and fuck him.
The spankings aren’t brutal. A lot of the time I’ll make him bend across my knee and I’ll pull down his briefs. I make him sit naked in the sun so his body is completely tanned. I have a large secluded pool area; no neighbours are harmed in the making of Nate’s tan. So, when his tight cheeks are resting submissively against my right thigh, I start by caressing his lovely curves. I make sure to massage both buttocks, from the top near his spine, over the mounds and into the under-curves. Then I make my way down his thighs and legs. They too are hairless.
Then, I make a journey into his crack. He usually tenses. When I’ve asked him why he does this, he says he has no control; it just happens that way. I put the tip of my finger into his hole; but not too far. My dick will take him up there after the spanking is done.
By now I am pretty damned excited. I usually stroke his muscular back, lingering at his broad shoulders. I make Nate work out at the gym three times a week. I want him lean and fit, but not so muscle-bound. Some of the guys with muscles on their muscles I see on the beach make me want to retch.
Once I’ve done petting and preening. I smack the palm of my hand into his butt cheeks. I start gentle, like I’m giving him “love-taps” and then I pick up the pace a little. Even with his tan, his flesh easily reddens. I’ve noticed with my Nates that a boy “colors up” at different rates. One Nate – I think it was Nate-4 – would redden and bruise after only a couple slaps. Another – definitely Nate-6, my most recent ex-Nate – hardly ever bruised.
Other times, I’ll make Nate bend over the back of the couch. Sometimes he gets to keep his briefs on; other times, not. It depends what I want. I will spank him with a bedroom slipper. Not one of the modern slippers, the ones with the plastic soles. They’re useless for spanking. The boy can’t feel a thing.
I have old slippers; ones with the springy, bendable soles. They pack a sting. I stole them years ago from my uncle. I guess he might still wonder what ever happened to those slippers. Under his bed one day and gone the next.
Spankings with slippers hurt a lot more than spankings with the palm of the hand. That doesn’t worry me none. The sight of Nate’s twitching buttocks raised high over the back of my big leather couch is an enticement to me to lay it on. Good and hard. So I do. The sound of slipper on naked flesh does it for me every time.
After a dozen or so slaps my dick is aching and straining to get out of the front of my pants. I hold on as long as I can. I smack and smack the slipper across the bared flesh, leaving dozens of imprints of the soul all over Nate’s buttocks and thighs.
Then, when I am fit to burst, we rush to the bedroom to fuck. I sleep in my own room and Nate has his. We have a special room for fucking. One of Nate’s daily duties is to ensure the sheets are freshly laundered. I have an account at a high-class laundry in town. The sheets are always crisp and fresh.
I make Nate lay on the bed, arch his back and put his knees over his shoulders. That way I can get my dick deep into his hole. It’s a tight hole, but it’s loosening with regular use. When it gets too big, I’ll be looking for Nate-8.
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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
Charles Hamilton the Second