ASSG Mr Knox 2 Mb
Ruthless
DISCLAIMER This story is a work of erotic gay fiction. If you are
underage or offended by stories of this nature, please do not read it.
Your comments, criticism, complaints, flames, requests for
missing installments and requests for stories tailored to your
interests are welcomed by the author at Ruth...@nbnet.nb.ca
Mr. Knox Part 2 (Want to think up a title for me?)
That Friday Lan showered early. The knowledge that he would be
baring his body for the
headmaster to punish again had filled him with an uncharacteristic
self-consciousness. He was
aware of his own body and felt awkward and vulnerable at the same
time. One of his chief
emotions was resentment.
It wasn't as if he had actually done anything wrong. It was
true he had put his sig nature
on the project along with Benny's, but how had he been supposed to
know that his partner on the
project had copied a section of the text straight out of a history
book? When he had agreed to
be punished it had been in desperation to avoid being expelled. But
now as he had spent the last
three days anticipating the punishment slated for Friday at eight
o'clock, his resentment had
grown alongside his nervousness.
Being strapped hurt! It hurt much worse than Lan had ever
guessed. But Lan knew that
the headmaster was not likely to listen to argument now, since he had
brushed aside the sixteen-
year-old's protestations of innocence before.
Lan dressed with his face set in stubborn lines. It wasn't
right, or fair. But it was better
than his father hearing that the school had kicked him out. As he was
dressing, the expression of
resentment cleared suddenly from Lan's face. When Lan smiled his face
was a work of art.
Beauty made his youthful face glow.
Lan had decided to take his project notes to Mr. Beatty. Once
Mr. Beatty saw them, he
would see the unfairness of Lan getting punished and intervene. But he
would have to hurry. He
had to be at Mr. Knox's office in less than an hour.
Fifty minutes later Lan sat down on the bench outside of
Mr.Knox's office with a long
face. Mr. Beatty hadn't been in his room. He'd been down on the
playing field coaching a soccer
practice, and he had been much to busy for Lan to even catch his eye.
He hadn't been able to
speak to Mr. Beatty, much less show him the notes. He was in for
another strapping tonight.
At eight o'clock precisely, Mr. Knox opened his office
door.Lan raised his chin proudly
and walked in. The man sealed the heavy soundproof door and the slim
Asian youth stood in the
headmaster's private sanctum.
As headmaster of one of the most academically successful and
most expensive prep
schools in the country, Mr. Knox could afford to furnish his office
with antiques and rich old
fashioned furnishings. His massive cherry wood desk had already become
familiar to the youth,
when his slender body had been stretch across it, almost naked and
introduced to his first taste
of the whip. The carpet was an Aubusson. The prints on the wall above
the dark wood panelling
were early Impressionist. Above a collection of leather bound volumes
and below the discretely
framed diplomas which admitted the headmaster's impressive
credentials, the bookcase held a
piece of pre-Columbian pottery behind glass doors.
Lan looked at the grey South American pot. It was a vessel in
the shape of a little round
bellied man on all fours with a woebegone expression on his face. The
clay man stared back at
Lan with a mute drooping mouth that matched his own mood.
"How are you this evening, Thu Minh?"
"Fine, Sir." Lan said hesitantly. "I was wondering if you'd be
willing at least to look at my
project notes..."
"Why should I look at your notes?" The man enquired in a
surprised tone.
"Well, it's like I told you before. My notes show all the work
I did and I'm sure you'll see
that there's no cheating in them." Lan explained. "I really would like
you to look at them. It's not
fair that I should be punished."
"Certainly not!" The man responded. "When you agreed to submit
to be being punished
you admitted your guilt. Your willingness to accept corporal
punishment is quite sufficient proof
of your guilt so far as I'm concerned."
Mr Knox was a very large man. When his voice grew hard he
could be frightening. He
was so broad-shouldered that he loomed over the youth. "I don't want
to hear anything more
about your supposed innocence. Is that clear, Thu Minh? You are never
to whine that you were
wrongly accused again, to me or to anyone else."
Lan was speechless. It was unjust! But he could not contradict
his headmaster, who was,
after all agreeing to make Lan's punishment lighter than he thought
Lan deserved. The boy
pressed his lips closed. He looked up unhappily at the older man.
"If you would rather not be punished you may simply leave my
office." said Mr. Knox.
Lan swallowed. "No, Sir. I can stand it. I don't want to be
expelled."
Mr. Knox nodded and he smiled. His smile, closed lipped and
judgemental was also
approving. Lan felt braver in the face of that approval. It had been
his first strapping before, and
being so new it had been shocking. This time he would be stronger. It
would not hurt as much.
"Take off your jacket and tie, Thu Minh."
"Yes, Sir." The beardless boy shrugged his jacket off of his
slim, square shoulders. He
took of the tie and placed them on the chair where he had laid his
clothes before. He faced the
desk. His stomach dropped. Mr. Knox had taken the same cloth ties out
that he had used on Lan
before.
At his expression Mr. Knox said. "Do you want to dispense with
these, Lan?"
"I.. think we had better use them." Lan said humbly. "I think
I may need them to stay and
keep from getting up."
Mr. Knox nodded. "You had probably better unbutton your shirt
also. It was in the way
last time. It will be easier to push up out of the way unbuttoned."
With a downcast face the boy unbuttoned his oxford cloth
shirt. His smooth chest was
beautifully developed. His nipples were dark and delicate, so flat
that only their colour made
them visible on the warm toned pale skin. He had no hair on his chest
at all. His bare torso was
muscled subtly yet clearly, with the ridges of his abdomen sculpted
with flawless youth. His eyes
were steady as he unfastened his trousers. At the same moment he lay
down on his belly across
the desk and concealed the masculine perfection that he had briefly
revealed.
Mr. Knox took Lan's slender wrists. The man's large hands had
thick fingers. They were
very solid hands and they dwarfed the youth's hands with their slender
fingers. He bound the
Asian boy's hands together at the wrist and to the handle of the
drawer. Surveying the boy
critically he walked around the desk and took him by the ribs. He
tugged him backwards.
Now Lan's arms were stretched to full extension and as a
result his hips were just over
the edge of the desk in midair. The rim of the desk came only to his
lower belly. The man tugged
and adjusted the youth's shirt. He pulled it as high as possible and
then over the boy's head so
that it was crumpled and crushed around his arms. The boy's brown
torso was completely bare
and exposed. The man was still not finished. He went behind the boy
and pulled his trousers
lower.
Lan had started to breath heavily. He was far more frightened
than the first time he had
lain down across the desk. That time he had not known how much pain he
was to experience.
But he set his face and closed his eyes. He would stand it somehow.
He heard the man sliding his belt from the loops. That was the
worst of it, the waiting, the
anticipation. Every second of the delay before the belt ripped its
cruel stroke across his sensitive
flesh was a torment to him.
He felt the leather's touch, not pain but a lazy trace across
his back, wandering between
his shoulders.
"Do you play contact sports, Thu Minh?"
"No, Sir." The youth kept his voice even.
"That would account for the tenderness of your skin." Mr. Knox
remarked. "But you're
very fit. What do you play?"
"I swim, Sir. And tennis. I play tennis."
"Yes." Mr. Knox's voice was warm and relaxed. "That would
account for your build: A
swimmer's build. You please your coaches, I think?" The belt still
wandered, now lower, as
gentle as a caress.
"I try, Sir. I mean, I play tennis pretty well."
"Are you ready?"
Lan drew a sharp breath. The tightness in his voice could not
be disguised. "Yes, Sir."
Nothing happened. Lan waited, every tense muscle clenched in
anticipation. He was
almost vibrating. Just as he was about to turn his head and look back
over his shoulder, the belt
flickered its wicked lightening onto his shoulders.
CRACK!
"Uhhhh..." Lan pressed his cheeks and lips against the smooth
wood surface behind
him. The stripe on his back glowed with rosy warmth.
Mr. Knox did not count the strokes this time. His face was
hard again. His eyes
measured Lan cooly and without emotion. His thick arm rose again with
effortless power.
CRACK!
"UUh!" Lan rocked. It hurt so badly! The second stripe had
laid across his buttocks. The
smooth brown globes were marred with a pink line. The belt did not
snap upwards again but laid
coiled loosely over his sensitive bum. The big man drew it away gently
and it slithered over the
boy as gracefully as a snake. The strong arm swung back again.
CRACK!
"AAh! Sir!" Lan jerked, a flinch that made his body jump from
his heels to his head. This
stroke had landed on his bum also.
Oh God, thought Lan despairingly. That's three. I've gotten
through three. There are so
many more...
The man paused even longer. His eyes rested on the boy's bum.
He saw the tightness,
watched intently how the clenched in cheeks stayed tense. He waited
until there was a minute
slackening of the tension and in that instant the belt whipped down
again.
CRACK!
"AAAHhh! Jesus!" The belt was landing in the same place.
Lan had his face tightly screwed up. He pressed it hard
against the smooth surface of
the desk. He waited and he kept waiting for the next blow. He knew
that they had been coming
slowly, he expected the long pause, but this one seemed to be long,
long seconds.
"Lan?" It was not a blow, but Mr. Knox's voice, so hard and
cold that it sounded full of
venom. "What is this?"
The boy opened his eyes, confused. He felt a hand with warm
thick fingers reaching
under his groin. The hand closed on his penis. Lan's eyes went wide.
He had an erection. He
had not been aware of the erection. The pain had kept him from feeling
any minor sensations.
Like a morning piss-hard, the erection was caused by the stimulation
in a way which was not
erotic. Now Mr. Knox had his hand curled tightly around the boy's
shaft where it jutted downward.
"You little viper." Mr. Knox spoke slowly. "That's why you
wanted to be whipped. You're
turned on."
Lan was so confused that he said nothing. He was speechless
with amazement. I'm
turned on? He thought. But it hurts! In the face of his inexplicable
erection, he made no denial.
The headmaster was pulling at his cock, using two hands doing
something that Lan
could not see or understand. "You were trying to trick me. You're not
here to be punished at all.
You're here because you like it when I whip you. You're a sick little
pervert and you fooled me."
The man's voice was heavy with disgust.
Lan cried out, a soft animal sound of despair and
bewilderment. The man released the
boy's handsome swollen cock. He stepped back. "I'm going to have to
punish you even more for
tricking me."
The belt came alive again. It flickered over the helpless
youth's sensitive body like a
ravenous animal. It cut burning lines on his shoulders and his thighs.
Lan cried out again and
again in pain. Over and over again it licked burning welts on his
upturned bum.
Mr. Knox whipped him with a rapt faces. His eyes stared
hungrily at the writhing boy. He
did not count the strokes. He just laid them down, caressing the moans
out of his sixteen-year-
old pupil. Every inch of the boy's back and thighs turned bright pink.
His bottom turned magenta.
Mr. Knox was tireless, like a torturing machine, laying down blow
after blow to torment the boy.
Lan was gasping, almost unable to breath in his agony. His body was
trembling with suppressed
sobs.
"You still have that hard on, don't you?" Mr. Knox
demanded."You're still aroused, aren't
you? You sick little pervert."
He had laid a great many more strokes than merely twenty on
the youth's back before he
finally laid down his belt. "Lan, say you're sorry for tricking me."
He demanded.
Lan was panting hard. He didn't collect his voice.
"Say you're sorry you tricked me or I'll go on whipping you."
"I'm sorry I tricked you!" Lan almost screamed the words. His
body was damp with pain
sweat. He was trembling uncontrollably.
Moving swiftly but jerkily the headmaster, unfastened the ties
around Lan's wrists. He
pushed the boy off of the desk. Lan cried out when his bare welted
bottom touched the carpet.
"Go on, get dressed. Get out of here before I lose my temper."
Lan staggered to his feet and yanked his trousers up. They
caught on his jutting
erection. The boy's almond eyes were round with pain and shame. He
fumbled with his shirt
while the headmaster glared at him impatiently. He was almost shoved
out of the office door.
"Get out. Be back on Friday. In the meantime, I don't want to
see or hear about you
again."
When he had sent the boy moaning down the hall on trembling
legs, Mr. Knox locked his
office door. He returned to his big leather seat and swiftly brought
an erection out of his trousers.
Leaning back with his eyes closed, he filled his mind with the recent
memory of the beautiful
youth jerking and moaning on the desk. Mr. Knox thrummed hard on his
cock as he pictured the
irresistible vision.
The boy was in the washroom now. He had dropped his pants
again and was sitting in
the sink, letting the cold water soothe the heat in his ass cheeks. He
was struggling not to cry
and struggling with an elastic.
Mr. Knox had wrapped a wide elastic band around Lan's penis
and testicles. It was biting
tightly into the swollen flesh, hurting him. He could not get it free.
As long as it was there, it
trapped the blood in his genitals and his erection could not go down.
Lan could not get the
elastic off. He was shaking with shame. His back and bottom were on
fire with pain.
Lan knew that he would have to cut the elastic to get it off.
He was going to have to bring
a blade down and try to cut the rubber band that was biting into his
flesh, without cutting himself.
It was only the desperate need to get free of the painful constriction
that gave him the impetus to
climb out of the sink and pull his trousers up over his stinging hot
bottom again.
He shuffled awkwardly back to his room, where he knew there
were scissors that he
could use. He was almost frantic to escape the elastic so he hurried,
but the pain of the whipping
made him move stiffly like an old man. The involuntary erection tented
the front of his trousers.
Lan was stooping to try to diminish its visibility. He passed a group
of senior boys and he tried to
conceal his distress but he was afraid they were staring. Hischeeks,
like his back and ass,
burned with a blush of humiliation.
End of Part 2