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Goddamn, was he handsome.
Such were my sudden–though hardly unprecedented–thoughts as my face was shoved into the wall beside that of my arch-rival, Amir Khalili.
I might have attributed them to the stress of our situation, but I would have been fooling myself. I’d had a hard-on from hell since long before Edgewick pulled us apart. Fighting could do that to me. Even arguments. Anything that got my blood up. Especially with this kid.
I glanced at the Khalili kid out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t exactly surprise myself with my buzz of sexual arousal; I’d had bi fantasies before (or maybe you could call them gay fantasies, since there weren’t any women in them). Had I ever fantasized about Khalili? Probably not, though I realized he was good-looking, and he was kind of my type, I suppose: Tall, slim, dark-featured, snarky little mouth, a clever boy. I guess I’d always disliked him too much to appreciate it. Or maybe the dislike was part of the latent attraction.
Edgewick’s heavy hands lingered on our necks for a moment while he let us sweat.
All I could see now was a hawkish Arab nose, a big dark heavy-lidded eye. Not the one I’d blackened, though the eyelid was so thick and lush it took me a second to tell. The eye darted over at me. I looked back at the wall.
“Eisen,” Edgewick intoned, “Khalili.”
We didn’t respond. We weren’t meant to.
“I don’t know what all of that was about, though if it mattered I’m sure I could wager a good guess.” Edgewick sighed. He sounded very tired. “But it doesn’t matter, and I don’t care who started it either, all that matters is that it was a shameless display on both your parts. You’re young men. Seniors, for Christ’s sakes….”
Neither of us was much concerned about the sakes of Christ, not usually and especially not now– and I assure you he knew that. But I didn’t think it would be prudent to critique the wording of Edgewick’s pre-ass-slicing lecture.
“… and I never want to witness such conduct from either of you again.”
I dared to glance over at him again. It looked like he was biting his inner lip. Or maybe he was just sucking the blood from where I’d split it. His smooth olive skin seemed to glow with sweat.
Behind us we could hear Edgewick opening his desk drawer. We were in his inner sanctum, and lunch period had just ended, so everything was dead quiet except for this and our nervous breathing.
For the record, it was Khalili who started it, with one of his cute political one-liners. Maybe he did have a point, and maybe it was clever, but it was also pretty clear where he was going with it.
At Catholic T___ High, we basically were the Arab-Israeli conflict, though only my mother was actually Israeli, and Khalili was, I think, Saudi Arabian, not Palestinian. So it really wasn’t our problem, but it was an obsessive topic of our free-style practice debates and a huge reason for the antagonism between us.
I’d felt justified slugging him. Which made him feel like taking a good swing at me. And so on, until we were rolling around on the floor tearing at each other. Which was, I have to admit now, pretty hot even at the time.
I’d glimpsed my face in the mirror that Edgy keeps in the tiny anteroom between his outer and inner offices. Even with the red mark on my cheek and all the sweat I thought I looked pretty good. My straight dark hair was all mussed up. I have sexy tawny-gold eyes, nothing like Khalili’s black beauties except for the long black lashes, but they’re bedroom eyes anyway, and they peered back at me from behind my glasses as the slight fog on my lenses cleared up. My full pink lips were beginning to fatten on the left side where Khalili’s fist had caught them. My light skin was flushed in a way I found strangely exciting. I’m kind of a narcissist, I know it. I wondered what Khalili saw when he looked at me. We were the stars of the debate team, and long-time rivals, as I’ve mentioned, so he’d also seen me all tricked out–tie and blazer and neat hair and all that. I’d seen him in the suits he probably borrowed from his older brother, which dragged slightly at the cuffs.
If you didn’t go for the jock type, Amir Khalili and I were arguably two of the best-looking guys in school, or so I was thinking right now. We had a few things in common besides that. We were academic types, but we both participated in semi-solitary, endurance-based sports like track and swimming. So we had real nice, lean bodies. We were a good match for each other in a fight.
We’d each had to take a certain amount of shit off the musclehead contingent at this school. Because of our good grades, our backgrounds. Even so, fighting with fists really wasn’t like either of us.
There was another moment of just our noses pressed to the wall, then Edgewick shut his desk drawer.
“Since you boys clearly have forgotten how to feel shame, perhaps a refresher course in that emotion is in order. “
Oh shit–An awful thought had come to me unbidden—He’s not going to have us cane each other, is he? I was suddenly bahis firmaları sure I’d never be able to keep from—Either during his turn or mine—I wouldn’t be able to help it.
“To re-teach you about shame, I will introduce an additional humiliation to accompany the pain. You will watch each other’s chastisement. Or, to put it another way, you will be watched.”
He let that sink in.
A chill ran down my spine and settled in my butt-crack. Or maybe it was a drop of cold sweat. My ass clenched tight.
He spoke to the back of my head: “All other things being equal–and my statement about not caring who started it still stands–a little bird tells me that you threw the first punch. Do you deny it?”
Fuck. One of those shitty-assed freshmen must have said something.
“No, but “
“Aaron, I really don’t care.” He only addressed you by your first name when he was truly exasperated with you.
“Mr. Edgewick, but–“
I should’ve kept quiet. Pain exploded across my backside, making my butt cheeks clench and relax. It was only a hand-smack, like you’d give a much younger boy–or a mouthy older one, I guess–but it was a firm smack, a combination of sting and surprise.
“Only your butt, Eisen, and I want it over my desk. Pants down. Underwear too. Khalili, turn around and watch him.”
He did. I could feel those dark eyes on me as I struggled to get my pants down and my butt bare with some semblance of dignity. Edgewick indicated he wanted my pants around my ankles, not off. So Khalili was going to get to watch me hobble my pretty, white, Jewish-boy ass across the room. Lucky him.
I was glad my shirt front concealed my erection. I’d had trouble while dragging my boxers down. For a second the fabric caught on my cock-head, but I’d managed to free it before anyone noticed (I hoped). I was afraid of it bouncing as I half-hobbled half-walked to the desk.
Edgewick tapped the desk. “Bend over, Eisen.”
The cool mahogany and the leather desk-blotter crushed against my erection. I squirmed a bit as Edgewick lifted my shirt-tail off my backside for me and stood examining my ass for a moment. I felt his eyes–and Amir Khalili’s–burning into my exposed flesh like lasers. The back of my neck flushed hot.
He tapped the cane gently against my buns. “Raise it up. And relax it.”
I raised it, arched my back, and spread my thighs. This caused the head of my penis to press against the desk-blotter. Through the significant discomfort which this produced, I cherished the hope that they couldn’t see through my spread legs that I was boned up.
He continued to tap my newly perked-up behind lightly with the cane. It was driving me crazy, giving me goosebumps. I wondered if he could see that, if he was enjoying it. If Khalili was.
“Mr. Eisen, you know what you did was wrong and you know why. So I’m not going to waste any more time lecturing you. I’m just going to punish.”
God knows what was keeping my erection up. Being practically naked and exposed. Khalili’s unwavering gaze. Knowing that he knew he would be next. The rhythmic tap of the cool cane against my ass. Knowing I was getting what I deserved. (Yes, the first shades of self-doubt had begun, at this late stage, to creep over the bright red horizon of my indignation, mingling with the arousal in a new and strange way.)
He whacked me. The first blow was firm, biting. Like my butt had been sliced in half. I jumped against the desk, then immediately blushed with the fear that they–that Khalili–had seen my blood-filled shaft.
“You’ll be still,” Edgewick said as he sliced me again. A hot strip of molten lead burned into my bottom. I wished that he would paddle us instead. I’d had my ass paddled by the track coach once or twice, and I’d wager Khalili’s cute little mouth had gotten him in similar trouble on a couple of occasions, though we were on different teams so I didn’t know for sure. I don’t see why they cane us anyway, it’s such a British thing. Hell, until I came here I didn’t even know some schools were still allowed to–
The third cut flared across my round buns. He never hit the same spot twice, and now he striped me in the direct center of my ass.
“Ah!” I couldn’t help but grunt, trying to keep my thighs–and thus also my buns–apart, and my bottom perched up, as he’d requested. Being paddled over the locker room bench now seemed like heaven compared to the concentrated fury of the cane: bouncing around, having my butt popped with the flat light piece of wood, the fire spreading in a nice, roughly round patch of intense warmth.
“Ohhh.” Number four zapped diagonally across my butt. High on one cheek, midway across my crack, low on the other cheek. I’m being caned, I thought wildly, So this is what it is. I was burning back there something fierce. Khalili’s eyes, and the implement.
The awful, the impossible thing–my erection was still there. Even as that fourth blow struck and I began without thinking about it to sway my butt side to side, moaning from the pain. There kaçak iddaa was a long pause and I realized I was crying silently.
The fifth came swiftly, as I was wiggling, and my poor red ass jumped almost clear off the desk. There was a long pause, during which my tail must’ve withered a little from its original perked-up height, because Edgewick commanded: “Raise it up, Eisen!”
I dutifully stuck it up. My eyes were misty.
One last searing stroke, and that’d be it. I’d be fully punished. A chastened and–I’m sure Edgewick hoped (or maybe he didn’t)–a changed boy. He gave it to me right on my sweet-spot, where my thighs met my buns. My butt veritably leapt. I could feel my balls swing, and I knew they had to have glimpsed, or guessed at, my condition.
Edgewick let me lay across the desk–now slick with sweat–for only a short moment before giving my hot butt another brisk tap with the evil cane-tip.
“Get up, Eisen, and go stand by the wall. I want your hands at your sides. If I catch them anywhere near that backside of yours, it’s going to go right back over the desk next to Khalili’s.”
I stood and twisted around, perhaps too-quickly covering my genitals with my shirt front. My pants remained in a bunch around my ankles. My rear end blazed. My face was wet with sweat and tears.
“Yes, yes, you may pull up your pants, Aaron.” He gestured with dismissive disgust at my front, as if to say “Cover that up”. I was sure he’d seen. Though I doubted I was the first boned-up boy he’d taken to task in this room.
I pulled my boxers up cautiously over my quivering butt, then my pants, wincing a little as I tightened the seat over my rosy-striped rear.
“Khalili.” Edgewick motioned my fellow miscreant forth. I was trying not to look at him, trying to forget he was in the room, had been in the room the whole time. “Come here and bend over the desk. Pants down. Exactly as you saw Mr. Eisen do it.”
Khalili and I passed one another as he went to comply with Edgewick’s orders. I reached the wall and turned just in time to watch him start to undo his fly under the man’s imperious gaze, but as I passed him I also saw something else: Khalili’s khakis, though somewhat loose in front, showed a distinct and unusual bulge. I wondered if it’d gotten him hard seeing me caned bare, or if he just enjoyed the whole thing, the whole process of being punished. If it was the latter, I would happily make him sweat whenever he needed it.
I checked out his butt in his tighty-whities as he was bending to lower his pants. It was a very nice one, I noticed, even through the distracting pain in my own rear end. The thought that it would soon be feeling the same burn under my own eyes made my cock grow even more rigid. In my pain it seemed I took in a greater, clearer volume of detail than usual, my senses sharply awake. I reveled in the sleek musculature of his neatly-bisected rump in the tight briefs. It was unfair, though, that he hadn’t had to hobble across the office the way I had. I would have relished his humiliation.
He hooked his thumbs into the briefs and lowered them. I noticed the contrast of the clean white with his lean dusky-skinned thighs. Then his butt was revealed in all its glory. Two smooth golden-brown globes, exquisitely rounded, masterfully sculpted. His hair began just below the satisfying jut of his rear, and it was sparse but dark. Long, graceful runner’s legs. As he stood up his shirt-tail fell down and momentarily obscured that brown peach of a hiney.
Edgewick raised the cane and my breath caught in my throat, but instead of Khalili’s butt he tapped the leather desk blotter.
“Bend over,” he told him, and his sharp voice made Khalili jump just as surely as the cane- stroke would have. Khalili bent. I would have given him an extra cut for not doing it right away. But this was Edgewick’s show, not mine.
Edgewick lifted his shirt-tail, just as he’d done with me, and then he gave him the customary tap in the middle of his perfect butt with the cane.
Khalili immediately raised his tail up and spread his legs. The boy had been listening. He did it almost as if he’d only been waiting for the cane-tap. He looked like a bitch ready to be mounted. My mouth watered as my eyes moved along his crack. I strained to see between his legs. Did our newly-acquiescent Arab beauty really have a bone? Couldn’t tell. It was all dark between his dark thighs.
“Everything I said to Aaron there goes for you too. You know why you’re being punished, so no lectures, I’m just going to punish you.”
He gave Khalili’s beautiful butt a stroke no less firm and biting than the first one he’d laid on mine. A livid ribbon cut across the center of that firm fine rump, as the cane made his buns push together where they met so I could no longer study the depths of his dark crack to try and get a glimpse of his asshole. My cock was drooling. I wondered if I’d shown him my hole. Then his resilient butt-flesh bounced back to normal, the cane-stripe filled in with crimson, and he uttered a soft, guttural “uhhhh”of kaçak bahis pain.
Edgewick re-positioned himself a little further from the miscreant’s bottom, and I saw a minute shiver go up Khalili’s spine as his raw, burning hindquarters were coldly studied.
At the second whack Khalili’s honeyed rump trembled minutely. He let out a rough groan, and a sound like a muted sob. Was he crying already? My burning striped tail and blurry eyes sympathized, but my hard cock did not.
The third cut flattened his dark delicious buttocks. This time, as with me, Edgewick struck the base of his butt where, later, he would sit. When he dared sit again. Khalili cried out, and I heard a ragged snort. Yes, our boy was tearing up!
One thing I will say for him, he kept that sweet caramel butt up high the whole time. He wouldn’t need to be told twice. It even seemed that he raised it higher after that third cut, as if eager, despite his whimpering and sniffling.
Again, I ate up his bare cheeks with my eyes, as Edgewick paused to choose his next target-spot, and I thought for an instant I caught a glimpse of his hole in his deep crack as he gently flexed those stinging cheeks and wiggled a bit and whimpered on the desk. I couldn’t see his cock dangling, but there–for an even briefer instant–were his low-hanging brown nuts.
My own cock leaked a little, thinking of his fine cut dark stiffy pressed against the desk slick with my and his sweat. I was even more interested in his small dark bud, but his cheeks had closed again. Edgewick gave them a diagonal stroke that made Khalili flinch. He wasn’t really jumping around like me, but he was much more vocal with his sharp gasps, groans, now- steady soft sobs. I’d never have guessed before today that a boy could be both hard and crying. If indeed he was hard.
The flinching was his butt’s strongest response to the caning, other than getting redder. Most of his more-energetic reactions were concentrated at the other end. The boy made a lot of snorting wet sounds, which I might have found unattractive if I had not been able to witness the delightful process by which they were obtained. I don’t look down on him for crying Edgewick’s cuts were horrible, I knew. My behind danced, Khalili cried. It wasn’t like he started begging or anything.
Edgewick swung back and then made a wide, hot, red X across Khalili’s red-patterned bottom, crossing his previous diagonal cut with another. Our backsides would match after he was through correcting my worthy (and hellaciously sexy)opponent. Khalili’s lean, broad shoulders heaved as he cried onto the wood of the desk. I watched, brain buzzing with wicked ecstasy, the long stripe suffuse with crimson. I loved seeing the red come up in that smooth olive flesh. If only I could miraculously convince old Edgy to let me finish Khalili’s punishment with my cock, which by now felt as long, hard, and lethal as the cane.
He paused to let Khalili cry. I think he liked hearing the sound as much as I did. Then he whipped him across the top of his peachy-round rump, just below the place where the split of the cheeks began. There was the now-patented Khalili butt-flinch, then the snorting-sobbing and the undulation of his graceful back as he cried out his agony.
“One more, Amir,” Edgewick said with exaggerated patience. “Stop your noise. You know full-well you deserve this.”
Khalili tried manfully to stifle his sobs. He perked his pretty ass up for his last stroke. WHACK, on his sit-spot again, a little above the other stripe there, a very hard stroke. It smushed Khalili’s cheeks together and shoved his swollen, hot-and-bothered crotch against the desk. A sixth lovely scarlet stripe graced his incomparable bottom.
He lay there sniffling, muffling himself with his sleeve, til finally Edgewick pulled him up roughly, by the collar, no less, like a wayward kitten (something exotic, an Abyssinian maybe), and ordered him to get hold of himself. The shirt-tail fell and covered his butt again, to my great vexation. Both their backs were to me, and I took the opportunity to surreptitiously rub my bulging front.
Edgewick brusquely handed Khalili a single Kleenex from the box on his desk, which he used, thankfully, on his runny nose, leaving the dark wet eyes as they were. He didn’t dare ask for another tissue.
“Get over by the wall,” Edgewick said, and when Khalili just stood there he gave him a swift sharp spank with his hand, like the one he’d given me. Khalili winced and got moving, walking as best he could with the cloth tangled around his shoes. It was fun to see him try to keep his balance and not pitch forward to the floor with his red ass in the air. I could now see clearly the bounce of his erect cock beneath his shirt. He didn’t seem to care that we could see. He had no more dignity. He stumbled, his face hot, his eyes half-blinded with tears. He had one of those faces that takes on an additional twisted beauty when in pain. The big, wet, suffering eyes, the luscious mobile mouth. As he reached the wall he wavered, nearly toppled. I caught him instinctively and helped him to pull himself up. I pushed him up against the wall next to me and saw, out of the corner of my eye, Edgewick nodding as if we were co-conspirators plotting to put this sobbing naughty boy back in his place.
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