A Site for Sore Arse

by Paulus the Woodgnome


Well, if I hadn't have taken a short cut it never would have happened. And if I hadn't gone out drinking with the lads from the bank I would never have taken the short cut, or done what I did, so I guess it's all down to the demon drink, again. But I suppose I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

It was a really hot summer evening. We'd had a fairly lazy day down the bank, the customers were all enjoying the sunshine too much to get ratty, they hadn't gotten bored with it yet, because it hadn't been a great summer so far and here it was nearly August. They're a good crowd, down there, there's three other lads around my age, and a couple of girls also in their late teens or early twenties, and we all like a good drink and a good laugh. I don't think any of the others have cottoned on that I'm gay except maybe Jeff, who I think is bisexual and who I reckon is trying to get into my pants, but being subtle about it like in case he's wrong about me. Anyway, there's been no probs that way, we all get on fine.

So anyway, when Dean suggested we go down the George after work and get some in for his birthday, it sounded like a really good idea. The George is like this really old pub, with a big courtyard away from the traffic in the Borough Road, and in the summer you can sit outside and knock back the old throat coolers. We made a dash for it soon as we got out of work, 'cos if you're too late the medics from Guy's Hospital nick all the best tables outside.

We had a really great evening, but what with the warm weather, and us all having a laugh and everything, I reckon I put away more than was good for me. I wasn't like totally wasted or anything, but I was definitely not thinking too clearly by the time we came to go home.

I poured myself onto the bus all right, and I even managed to get on the right one which was quite an achievement, even with Dean and Jeff helping, 'cos they were as bad as me or worse. So like I say, I got the right bus, but I only went and fell asleep and missed my stop, didn't I ? So when I wake up, we're the other side of New Cross from where I want.

Well, I scooted off the bus. Luckily I wasn't too far out of my way, and I knew the area, so it could've been worse. I decided I'd cut down through some of the estates. It was well dark by this time, but like I say I knew where I was going.

Anyway, at one point the road makes a big swing which took me about half a mile out of my way. But they're doing some sort of construction work there, and I knew that the local kids cut across the site to avoid going all round the loop of the road. So that was what I did, too.

So I'm trotting across this site, nearly to the other side in fact, and when I got to the bit where they were actually working, there were all these piles of bricks lying about. And I remembered my dad was after a couple of bricks to prop up something or other on his allotment, so I thought - well, why not, no-one's going to miss 'em, are they ? - and helped myself to a couple.

Well, all hell let loose. Big lights come on, there was this guy shouting "Got you, you little bastard", and someone grabbed hold of me from behind. I yelled and struggled, but he was too strong. They dragged me into the portakabin there.

"Let's see what we've got," said one of them. There were three of them, one older guy of about thirty or so, with brown hair cut very short, kind of a round face, blue eyes; another guy, in his mid-twenties, with dark-blonde hair and a day's stubble on his chin, who I would definitely have thought was cute if I'd met him under other circumstances; and the guy holding me, who I couldn't see until he let go of me, kind of throwing me forward so that I stumbled. When he came round to join the others I was amazed to see it was Peter Cairns.

We were at school together - in fact we used to fool around together - you know the sort of thing teenage boys get up to, wanking contests and a bit of playing with each other, nothing heavy. I hadn't seen him for a couple of years, which was a pity, because he was drop dead gorgeous, with heavy dark hair and grey eyes you could have drowned in.

"Oh, Petey," I said, really relieved, "look, I never did anything, this is a mistake."

Well, he didn't look any too pleased to see me, I have to admit, but he did turn to the older guy and say:

"He ain't one of 'em, Pat."

"Who is he, then ?" asked the other bloke. "You know him, do you, 'Petey' ?"

Well, the look old Petey gave me could have killed.

"Yeah, I know the little bastard," he said. "Went to school with him."

"Well, I'm still calling the police. He's trespassing, and he nicked materials off the site. That's good enough."

Well, of course I nearly wet myself when he said that, I mean the bank were really going to be wild about a police record for one of their employees, weren't they. NOT. So I started out pleading, saying I never meant to do anything, couldn't they please let me go, I'd pay them back. And then Petey gets this look in his eye, and he starts whispering something into the other guy's ear, who grinned but then looked doubtful, so they called the third one over and there's a bit of a conflab, and then:

"OK," says Pat, the older guy. "You don't want the police, then you'll have to pay all right."

"Yeah, yeah, anything, whatever you want," I gabbled, just so relieved that they weren't going to call the Old Bill.

"Yeah, well we're going to take the price out of your hide."

"What ?" I couldn't believe I'd heard right.

"You're going to get a good thrashing to teach you to keep your hands off other people's property."

Well that scared the hell out of me all over again - I mean my dad used to give us the back of his hand from time to time, and I got the slipper a couple of times at school, but I'd never been really walloped, and certainly not for the last few years. But at the same time, a small part of me thought it was kind of exciting, the idea of being in the power of these macho blokes. And the older guy, Pat, started to take his belt out of his trousers, broad, supple brown leather, and double it in his hands, and I didn't know whether to throw up or cream myself at the sight.

"Bend him over the table, lads," said Pat. The other two grabbed me, one to each arm, and hauled me forward and down, over the heavy desk on one side of the portakabin. The hard cold wood pressed into me, the edge of the table sticking into my stomach. I felt sick and scared, and kind of far away. The strong hands on my arms were like my only link to the real world, the only human warmth, and I felt like - I don't know, like if they hadn't been there I might have just floated away into some cold dark place and never come back. I know that sounds kind of trippy, like I was ripped to my tits on acid or something, but it was just so much happening so fast, and the last of the drink, of course, and being so scared that I was like pumping pure adrenaline round my veins.

Then the belt came down on my arse, and that concentrated my attention on the real world all right, I can tell you. The first whack was more of a shock than anything, a heavy slashing blow, but it came down again and again across the tightly stretched black trousers I was wearing. I knew I shouldn't have worn such a close fitting pair, but I put them on this morning because I knew we were going out, and I know they cling to my bum in a really sexy way, and like they say, it pays to advertise. After all you never know when Mr. Right will be looking, do you ? The only trouble was they were like zero protection against the warm heavy leather in Pat's hand, wielded by an arm with years of hard labour on building sites behind it. Whack followed whack, all too fast for me to recover from the previous one, and a terrible fiery itchy pain began to grow in my arse cheeks. Soon I was grunting and heaving on the desk, trying to find a position where it was easier to take, some way to minimise the blows. But there was none, and Pete and his mate just tightened their grip, forcing me down against the cold, unyielding wood.

THWACK ! THWACK ! Have you ever had the belt ? It makes a really terrifying noise - nearly as bad as the actual feel of the thing. THWACK ! I was squirming and whimpering by this stage, and I could feel that bastard Peter Cairns laughing. Eventually I couldn't help myself from pleading:

"Ahh, please, no - AAGH - more, please . . ." I could feel tears welling up in my eyes from pure pain. There was a horrible pause.

"OK lads, let him up," said Pat quietly.

One of them - I'm not sure which - made a small sound, as if he wanted to object, but thought better of it, and the hard grip on my arms loosened, and they pulled me to my feet. My hands flew to my bum like it was a magnet, it was SO sore, all I could do was kind of rub it very gingerly, trying to ease the fire.

"See him off the site," said Pat. "And don't let me ever catch you round here again," he added sharply to me, "or you'll get worse than that, laddie." I sniffed, and nodded, not daring to meet his eyes.

The other guy, the cute one, put his hand on my shoulder.

"Come on, 'oppit," he said, leading me out of the portakabin, Peter following.

When we got outside, Peter said:

"Well, that wasn't much of a hiding, was it ?"

"Seemed to be 'ard enough for him," said the other, laughing, indicating my red face and eyes.

"Yeah, but he never even felt the full force of it through them trousers, and we never got our turn," said Peter.

"What are you saying . . . ?" asked the other one.

"Please," I began, "just let me go."

"Oh no," laughed Peter. "We haven't finished with you yet."

"Pat'll be expecting us back, Pete," pointed out the other guy.

"No problem, mate, we'll stick him in the loo, lock the door, and then tell Pat to go home, we'll secure the site. Then it's our turn."

"No, please . . ." I said.

"You," hissed Peter, shoving his face right up close to mine, snarling, "will keep quiet and do what you're told, if you know what's good for you. Otherwise we can still let the bank know that one of their employees is a little thief !"

I fell silent, dumb with misery and fear. What would happen to me ? Quickly they hurried me around behind the portakabin, into a little plastic cubicle about the size of an old telephone box, with a chemical loo inside. The door was banged shut, leaving me alone in the stinking dark.

I undid my trousers, and slipped my hand inside my underpants to feel my arse - it was really scorching hot, and I could feel a couple of raised welts where the leather had stung me good and proper through the thin material. I rubbed it very gently. The stinging was fading a bit now, and the heat wasn't too unpleasant - in fact, in a weird kind of way I realised that it felt quite sexy.

Suddenly I heard footsteps. Hurriedly I pulled my trousers back up and zipped my flies, just as the door was flung open.

"Right," said Peter. "Out !" He leads me back into the portakabin, and I heard the ominous sound of the lock clicking as he fastened the door.

"Now, Dave," he said - so that was the cute one's name - "it's our turn."

"What are you goin to do to 'im ?" asked Dave. I could tell he was excited by the idea, but a bit uncertain.

"We can do anything we like," said Peter. "Anything at all, 'cos he's not in a position to tell anyone, is he ?" He put his hand under my chin to make me look him in the eyes, and laughed.

"Take off all your clothes except your undies," he said.

I swallowed.

"Do it," he said, "because if we have to take them off for you, you'll be even sorrier."

I undid the buttons of my shirt with shaking fingers, and pulled it off too. The air, which had seemed so warm all evening, was suddenly cold on my bare chest. I kicked my shoes off, then reluctantly undid my trousers and stepped out of them, then awkwardly, balancing on one foot, pulled off first one sock and then the other.

I glanced up and caught Dave's eyes, filled with curiosity and something else, partly hidden by uncertainty, but something I'd seen in the eyes of blokes before. He was turning on to this ! Surprised, I looked at Peter, and saw the same thing, but much stronger. The situation suddenly changed. I was still scared, but not sick kind of scared, more sexy scared if that makes any sense. As if their excitement was communicating itself to me, I suddenly felt my cock stir in my pants.

"You've been a bad boy," said Peter dreamily. "We're going to punish you for that. By the time we finish with you you won't be sitting down comfortably for for a long, long time."

Well that made me get really hard, I can tell you, and it was sticking out a mile, so to speak, when Petey beckoned me forward with his crooked finger. I saw him glance at my crotch and smile. Then he reached down and pulled my pants down. My cock leaped out, stiff and proud for the whole world to see. I blushed furiously.

"See Dave, he likes the rough stuff," said Pete. "Well you're going to love this then, you little fairy." He pulled me roughly to him, then sat down on the edge of the desk and hauled me over his lap.

"Cor, looks like his arse is good and pink already," said Dave. "Pat really gave him a good belting."

"That's nothing to what it will be after I've smacked his bum for him," said Pete. I hung over his lap, my legs in the air, the rough dirty denim of Pete's jeans rubbing against my stiff cock. His left hand clamped down on the small of my back and I knew I was helpless. My cock felt like an iron bar, I was so hard at the thought.

Then his big work-roughened hand came down on my tender backside - WHACK ! And again. And again. Soon he was settling into his rhythm - not too fast, but regular - and my bum was on fire again. Smack, smack, smack - it went on, and then I was wriggling, and soon I was kicking, but it was no good because he'd got me up where I had no leverage and my whole backside seemed alight.

"Please - OW - Pete, let me off, please !" I gasped out. The terrible stinging seemed to mount up in unbearable waves.

"Yeah, mate, don't overdo it," said Dave. Oh, THANK YOU, I thought. Some sympathy at last. "I want my chance," he went on. Bastard.

"I suppose I could use a rest," agreed Pete, lazily. He let me up, tears of pain trickling down my cheeks. I wasn't hard anymore, though I sure was hot - in one part of my anatomy, anyway.

"Come over here," said Dave. "You think your bum's hot now, just wait till I've finished with you." He was trying to match Pete's bravado, but he sounded more nervous about it than anything. And I just knew what was going through his mind, he was really excited about all this, and it was worrying him, was he queer or something, and what would happen if Pete or anyone found out ? Sure enough, as he sat down on the table and hoisted me across his lap, I could feel his hard-on even through the denim of his jeans.

He reached out a hand, very tentative, to touch my bum. It was probably the first time he'd ever touched another bloke's bare arse, I guess, and I heard him swallow, but his hand didn't withdraw. Instead he ran it gently across the hot flesh.

"It's really smooth, like a girl's bum," he said, wonderingly.

"That's 'cos he's a little poof," said Pete scornfully. If only ! I nick my mum's hair-remover cream every so often to keep it that way. "Are you goin' to wallop him or just keep on touchin' him up then ?" he added.

Dave's hand withdrew abruptly, and as quickly returned, in a stinging slap that made me grunt with surprise and pain. A flurry of slaps followed, hard and heavy enough to have me crying out. Then to my surprise he said to me : "Get up."

I obeyed, and with a nod of his head he indicated that I was to bend over the table again.

"And don't get up," he said, "or I'll start again from the beginning."

"Yeah, give him hell," encouraged Pete.

And he did. Methodically and unhurriedly, he walloped every inch of my arse - top, bottom, and sides. When I started to jerk about on the desk, unable to restrain myself, he clambered onto it and sat astride my back, pinning me beneath his weight. I could hear his breath coming in gasps from exertion and maybe something else, and I was howling, begging for mercy, promising anything.

Then suddenly Peter Cairns of all people stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"OK mate," he said drily. "Don't you overdo it either."

"Little bastard," breathed Dave, and I was uncertain for a moment just who he was referring to. "Guess that showed him, all right."

"Yeah, right," said Pete. "I think we'd better let him go now."

"We could . . ." began Dave. "Like you said, we could do anything to him, if we wanted to."

"Well, in reason . . ." began Pete.

"We could have him, make him do things, you know . . ."

"What, fuck him ?" said Pete in astonishment.

"If we wanted to. I mean, he's a homo, right, and they like real men, so they say." He grabbed me by the hair, and lifted me upright, looking into my red, tear-stained face, his own eyes shining with all sorts of emotions, as if he was scared himself of what he was saying, what he was doing, but he couldn't help himself.

"Do you want to suck my cock ?" he snapped.

I lowered my gaze, afraid to meet those wild eyes, and shook my head.

"Course you do," he said, "all the queers love that. Or would you rather I rammed it up your arse ?" He began to fumble with his waist button.

"No," said Peter. There was a cold ring in his voice all of a sudden. It wasn't the sort of voice you argued with, not if you knew what was good for you. He and Dave stared at one another for a moment and the air fairly crackled between them. Then:

"Oh, fuck it," said Dave bitterly, and running to the door he unlocked it and disappeared outside. A moment or two later we heard a car door, and then the sound of an engine starting up. We listened as he drove away, and then Pete heaved a big sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean for it to get quite that out of hand."

I sniffed a little. "It's OK," I said, in a smaller voice than I had intended.

Pete put an arm around my shoulder.

"You'd better get dressed," he said. "I'll lock up here, then I'll walk you home."

His arm felt so good around me.

"Please," I said. "Just hold me for a minute. I feel - I don't know, exactly, sort of scared and shaken up. I just need to be held, just for a moment."

He looked doubtful, but then stepped forward, and put both arms around me, held me tight. Oh that felt good, and before I knew it I'm bawling my eyes out like a little kid, and he was patting my back, and saying:

"Shh, shh, it's OK, it's all over, don't cry . . ."

"S-sorry," I managed, as I got myself under control. "I just - it just . . ."

"It doesn't matter," he breathed. "Really."

I raised my eyes from the soggy but warm spot on his shoulder where my head had been, and looked at him. He was smiling - oh God, he was so gorgeous, those eyes ! I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and kissed him.

After a moment's stiffening I felt him relax, felt his lips return my kiss with as much enthusiasm as my own. His tongue slid into my mouth, played with mine, strong supple muscle thrusting into me like a promise of things to come. His hands slid down my naked body, came to rest on the swollen, welted cheeks of my arse. I couldn't help a little sound escaping me.

"Sorry," he said. "God, we really were bastards, doing that to you."

"No, you were right," I said. "I did enjoy it, parts of it, anyway. I enjoyed being in your power, being mastered by you, my arse presented for you to punish."

"Christ, you're making me hard," he muttered.

I laughed, softly.

"Well, we can do something about that," I suggested. My hands went to the waistband of his jeans, and meeting no objection, undid them, to fall in a pool of blue around his knees. His briefs were straining under the pressure of his erection, and I eased the material away from the throbbing dick inside. It was well-shaped, thick, uncut, about 8 inches, springing proudly from a dark nest of pubic hair. A drop of pre-cum glistened on its swaying tip like a dewdrop on a rose.

Aroused to new lengths I fell to my knees, and drew him to me. My mouth closed around the head of his cock and I tasted him. He began to groan and whimper slightly as I withdrew and began to lick the shaft, and work down to his taut balls. My tongue worked its way into those secret places where balls nest against thigh, then up again to take him whole into my mouth.

"Oh God yes," he said, his hands running convulsively through my hair as he began to thrust into the slick wetness, as his foreskin peeled back in rippling delight and my tongue played across the sensitive, delicate skin of his cock head. My hands moved round to clasp his firm muscular buttocks, as we moved together, as he thrust, again and again, his breathing coming now fast and jagged until with a last gasp he came, flooding my mouth with the thick, salt-sweet essence of himself . . . and pulled me away, up, into his arms, his softening cock dripping its last spasms against my thigh.

He kissed me again, tasting himself in me.

"That was fantastic," he whispered in my ear. "I always fancied you at school, you know. That's why I was so pissed off when you went off and did your exams and wouldn't have any more to do with me."

"It wasn't exactly like that," I protested weakly. "I had loads of revision to do. I couldn't keep hanging around the streets all evening."

"Yeah, well, you weren't exactly friendly, the few times I saw you."

I remembered what he was talking about.

"But all that stuff we were getting up to - I wasn't ready for that. I didn't want to be gay, not then."

He laughed. "You worry too much. I've been with girls, I've been with lads. You should do what you enjoy, and not worry about labels. But I have to say," he added with a laugh in his voice, "that if I'd known that you would turn out to be such a good little cocksucker, I'd have kidnapped you and kept you, whatever you said. Spanked you until you submitted, if necessary."

I felt a thrill, and my cock leaped against him.

"So that's the way it is, is it ?" he asked with a fake growl. "Well, it looks like you're going to have a permanently sore arse for a while then."

I looked up, surprised.

"Come and live with me, I've got a flat," he said. "You earn good money in this lark, enough for me to rent a little place of my own."

I must have looked a bit unsure.

"Well, let's take it a step at a time," he said. "Come home with me tonight. I want to have you, to make up for all we've missed."

I grinned. "Are you up to it ?" I asked.

"You'd better believe it. I'm going to fuck your arse all night long," he said.

He kept his promise.


Copyright © 2001

More stories by Paulus