Gay Erotic Stories

Looking back, maybe I could have just told my boss what had happened, that is: what Mr Schulz had done to me. But firstly, the thought never even entered my head. He did after all think quite highly of me. He saw me as a confident and assertive individual, able to win people over with an overpowering combination of a dominant character and masculine charm. If he knew that a man old enough to be my father was undressing me and putting me over his lap to spank my bare bottom, he would see me in a different light. And that would rule out any further promotions. Quite honestly, I could hardly blame him.

I rang the doorbell nervously, hoping that Mr Schulz might be out. He was quick to open the door.

“Come in, boy.”

“Listen, Mr Schulz, Sir…”

That was it. Those few words were all he needed to hear. I was intending on setting the tone with a view to discussing his eviction, but he wasn’t having any of it. He pulled me into his home, slamming the door behind me with his foot, and dragged me over to the same sofa where he had spanked me just a few days previously.

“Sir, please…!”

“Quiet boy. You keep silent while I remind you that you’ve been sent here and that while you’re here you obey my rules. Is that clear, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he said, sitting down. “Now get over my knee.”

I was about to protest but I knew that that would just make the upcoming spanking much worse. Despite being dressed in an expensive suit, I got down over his lap, making sure to be in a position that would make it more convenient for him to spank me.

“Now, boy…” he began, resting one of his large hands on my behind, “you tell me what’s going to happen.”

I paused, but when I felt his hand grip my arse I quickly started talking.

“You’re going to spank me, Sir,” I said sheepishly.

“And you need a spanking, boy, don’t you?” He kept his grip on my arse, making it clear that this was more of a rhetorical question.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Go on. I want to hear more than that, boy.”

“I need a spanking, Sir. I need you to spank me, Sir.”

“Right, boy. And who decides on how and when you get a spanking?”

“You do, Sir.”

“Right, boy. And why’s that?”

I must have been crazy, but I seriously thought for a moment that this dialogue might get me out my spanking. Still, even taking account of the fact that nothing could dissuade Mr Schulz from giving me the spanking he so badly wanted to give me, any lack of cooperation on my part would have made the spanking more immediate, more violent, more painful. I hoped that by playing the obedient boy in these dialogues he would take note of my submission. So I went on.

“Because you know how to administer a spanking, Sir. And if you don’t spank me, Sir, no one will.”

“Good boy.” Mr Schulz really did sound pleased. He told me to continue.

“Well, Sir…” I felt his hand grip my arse cheeks again. I hurried to find my words. “When I first walked in here you noticed straight away that I needed a spanking and that you were the right one to administer it, Sir. No other man has ever undressed me before, Sir. Let alone spank me naked.”

It was faint, but I thought I heard him growl to himself on hearing me say that.

“And so you came back for more, boy, right?”

“Yes, Sir. But above all I came back because that was your order, Sir. And I thought it best to obey, Sir.” And it has to be said that that was not entirely untrue.

I don’t think he could hold back any longer. He started spanking me. I was getting my second spanking from Mr Schulz. Like with anything you do for the second time, I had some idea of what to expect. I had already proved to myself that I was able to comply with what Mr Schulz expected of me, and I almost felt a sense of pride in the fact that he appeared pleased with me. All this went through my head as I was getting my spanking and trying not to yelp.

After about 15 minutes he paused.

“Right, get up boy. It’s time to undress you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I got up and stood next to him, unsure whether I would be told to remove my clothes myself or whether he would strip me. I was standing to the side of his lap; he put his hand on my inner thigh to draw me closer to him and then undid my belt and trousers. The weight of my belt made the trousers fall to the floor.

“Are you a sportsman, boy?” he asked, running his hands up and down my thighs.

“Yes, Sir. I run a lot. I also work out and play soccer, Sir.”

“Thought so, boy. That’s a fine pair of legs you have there, boy. Fine, handsome legs.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

I’d been complimented on my physique many times before, both by women and men. My gym coach had often mentioned how good my legs were, although I can’t exactly remember the word he used. At the time I assumed that it was no different to my English teacher complimenting me on my written style.

But this was different. I was up close to him, him being the one to remove my trousers because he wanted to undress me. He had just spent 15 minutes spanking me and was now in the act of undressing me because he wanted to have me naked over his lap. He wanted to continue spanking me naked. And he was making me tell him that it was good for me to be getting spanked by him. That was what made it so different about him complimenting me on my legs.

“The next time you come, you’ll bring your running shorts with you, boy. We’ll discuss that later.”

I wondered how many times I was going to have to come to see Mr Schulz. How many times was he going to get to strip me naked, play with my body and spank me?

“Yes, Sir.”

He ran his hands up and down my thighs for one last time, pausing on my upper inside thigh as though savouring that part of my body. Then he pulled down my underwear. He made sure it only came down as far as just above my knees. He lifted up my shirt and jacket in order to fully expose my genital area to him. And did I feel exposed! I felt his gaze wander over the lower half of my body in its naked state. He motioned for me to hold my shirt and jacket up so that my arse and genital area remained in full view to him. The fact that the top half of my body was still dressed in a shirt, jacket and tie gave the whole thing an air of ridicule, but I sensed that he liked that. I stood obediently, holding up my shirt and jacket while he admired by body and soon began running his hands up and down my thighs again, now and then wandering around to my arse. He made me turn around a couple of times to give him a full head-on view of my arse. For a moment I thought I could feel his breath on my arse cheeks; I don’t know how close his face was to my body.

Then he turned me back around to face him, his hand on my arse.

“OK boy, back over my lap.”

“Yes, Sir.” I lowered myself back over his lap so that he could go on spanking me.

And spank me he did. I think it must have gone on for about an hour. Just like last time, he stopped after a while and removed the rest of my clothes. As he stood in front of me, untying my tie and unbuttoning my shirt, he looked me straight in the eye.

“I’m going to have you naked now, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He pulled my shirt off me and told me to step out of my trousers and underwear, which were now both around my ankles. Now he had me naked. This time when he sat down, he lowered me down onto his lap, adjusting me into just the right position. And when he had me there, he spent another few minutes running his hands all over my body: my legs, back, chest, he pinched my nipples, ran his hands through my hair and massaged my freshly spanked arse cheeks. At the time I wasn’t aware of the fact that he was giving himself a full view of my anus every time he squeezed my arse cheeks.

He was an incredibly muscular man. He was wearing a tight-fitting T shirt, and as he caressed my body with his hands I could feel the somewhat wiry hair that covered his forearms as it scraped over my naked body that he had draped over his lap.

“OK boy,” he said, “how about we go on with your spanking?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes Sir WHAT?”

“Yes, Sir. Please spank me as you see fit.”

“Why, boy?”

“Because my bottom is yours to spank, Sir. So if you decide that it needs spanking, then you spank it, Sir. You decide when you spank me, Sir.” I couldn’t quite believe it when I heard myself say that. But it really did seem to please Mr Schulz, and I was focussing more and more on doing as good a job as possible here. I felt his coarse hand squeeze the cheek it was resting on. Then he spanked me for another ten minutes.

“Right boy, now sit up on my lap.” I sat up and he turned me around so that my back was against his chest. He put his muscular arms around my torso and drew me close to him. Once again I felt the hair on his arms against my naked body; he rested his head on my shoulder and against the side of my neck, the bristliness of his unshaven face against my neck giving me goose pimples. He must have noticed that. I heard him begin to breathe more deeply and felt a distinct movement from inside his trousers, directly under my naked bottom. I worried that this whole thing could suddenly turn sexual, which I most certainly did not want. That was when I caught myself hoping I would get another spanking.

“What’s next, boy?” he asked, his bearded face still touching the side of my neck as he spoke. Fearing the worst, I opted for what appeared to be the most acceptable option.

“Are you going to spank me again, Sir?”

“Would you like another spanking, boy?”

“Yes please, Sir.”

He slowly manoeuvred my torso towards the floor until I was supporting myself on the floor with my hands, rather like when you’re doing press-ups. My bottom was still on his lap with my legs spread out on either side of him.

“This position is called the wheelbarrow, boy. And you’ll be finding yourself in this position quite often from now on.”

“Quite often, Sir?” I was troubled at the thought that this scenario, which I thought would be over and done with today, could just go on and on, becoming a regular thing.

“Yes, boy. You’re my spanking boy now. And when I want to spank you, you will come and have your boy bottom spanked. Like you said, it’s mine to spank.”

I just lay there over his lap, my arse presented to him as though it really were his to spank. How was I going to get out of this? His coarse hands squeezed my cheeks a few times before resuming my spanking. He was clearly enjoying himself; enjoying my bottom. He paused at regular intervals in order to caress and massage my bottom or to run his hands up and down my legs, telling me once again what fine legs his boy had.

To be honest, I was thankful for the pauses, because my arse was now starting to feel really sore from the treatment he was giving me. I was finding it more and more difficult not to yelp when his rough hand came down on my tender bottom, doubtlessly causing it to redden even more.

When he’d finished, he pulled me back up onto his lap so that I was sitting with my back to him as before. My arse hurt. Even the direct contact to the material of his trousers made me flinch. He noticed this and put his muscular arms back around my torso to draw me close to him. He squeezed me lightly, and to my astonishment there really was something comforting about the fatherly way he was treating me. For the first time I became aware of his scent, which had a likewise positive effect on me. He ran his coarse hands over my chest and abs, but I didn’t really mind any longer. I knew that today’s spanking was over, and funnily enough I was quite aware of the fact that he had administered my spanking in a way that actually made it possible for me to take it. It’s not that he was light- handed or anything like that; it was just clear that he was used to giving people a sound spanking and knew that a steady pace was better than overdoing it and allowed for the spanking to last longer. I didn’t even mind when I felt his coarse fingers begin to play with my nipples, despite my noticing that distinct stiffening in his trousers right underneath my bare and sensitive bottom.

We stayed like that for about twenty minutes. His hands went from my nipples down to my inner thighs, from where he pulled me ever closer to him, and then back up to my chest.

“You’ve been a good boy today, my boy,” he said.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You make sure you keep this up.”

“I will, Sir.”

“Right. Now, up you get. It’s time for my naked boy to get dressed and get off home.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I wanted to go, I really did. But I was a bit freaked out by a feeling very, very deep down inside myself. So deep down that it might not have even been me. It was brief and distant, but it said that if Sir had wanted to keep me on his lap like that for a while longer, treating me in a father-to-son manner like that, I wouldn’t have minded accommodating his wishes.

But it was time to go. I jumped up and dressed, while he watched me carefully. As I did up my tie, he got up and came over to me. Just millimetres from my face he adjusted my tie for me and said: “We’ll be seeing each other often from now on. And I’ll be spanking you. Your bottom now belongs to me, and you will obey your Master.”

“Yes Sir,” I whispered.

He let me out and I drove home, confused.

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If you like this story, let me know. If you didn’t like it, let me know what you didn’t like about it, what you missed or what you would change (I’m genuinely curious and love to hear people share). If you have any inspiration you want to share about how it could or should continue, let me know. Email: nrutas@gmx.de