This happened about a week ago but wanted to ask.
My wife and I and our son Jax (18M) went on a week-long Caribbean cruise right after his school ended.
Jax is a great kid he seems to have a confidence issue. As in TOO MUCH confidence lol. I've never seen anything like it, He's the most self assured guy in the world. It's not unfounded, he's great looking and athletic and definitely a "Mr Personality" type, but still a bit goes a long way.
He's also something of an exhibitionist I think, which brings us to the problem. Usually he's so charming it seems harmless and he gets away with it but in this case not so.
We arrive on the ship and set sail and Jax gets ready to head to one of the pools for the first time. Let's just say his swimsuit was NOT appropriate. At all. Definitely a "flaunt it" type of suit.
I told him to put on something else. He had NOTHING, the kid has packed nothing but those -- for a week long cruise. What was he thinking?
I told him he had to go to one of the on-board stores and buy something else. He protested. I won. He went to a store and came back and got ready to go again but he had bought another speedo-style suit that was a lot better than what he had before but still not appropriate. And of course he couldn't return a swimsuit.
I told him to go back, buy a PROPER suit like trunks or boardie shorts or whatever, which he reluctantly did.
He whined about it, begged to wear his original, but I said no. As I said I have to admire his confidence as he would have no issue being at the pool like that and will chat up girls all day long (he is a shameless flirt) but there's a time and place.
He was mad at me and said I made him waste $100+ on two new suits he didn't need. He didn't exactly call me an asshole but he wasn't happy. I didn't want to ruin his vacation but I wanted him to be decent.
So AITA and should I have just let him wear what he wanted?
Oh BTW if anyone is curious I made him give me the listing for where he bought the original, although this link might not be totally appropriate for work. A screen shot.. https://tg-image.com/file/f18e82b3792c5c4c79c01.jpg

EDIT to clear up a few things.

I'm not a prude. Not even close. He can (usually) wear what he wants, I don't care. He has sneaked in friends for skinny-dipping parties at home, I don't care. He and two friends once went streaking in the neighborhood, and were caught by an HOA "cop," and I don't care. He has sex, I don't care. In fact I buy him condoms and have for a while, I order them because he has a wicked latex allergy. I'm not a prude.
To be honest, I really don't have a problem with the actual Speedos, even though they are not my style. He (and all the boys on their team) wore them for water polo and no one cared, and he will occasionally still wear them in the pool etc. That's fine. I think I had a knee-jerk reaction when he bought them on the ship because he knew that I was asking him to buy regular trunks but he tried to get as close as possible to what he originally had to pull one over on Dad, and I wasn't having it.
I will pay him back for the boardie shorts he bought (which he actually likes).
Also, say what you like but the original briefs were VERY inappropriate. If they had been black I MIGHT have let it slide, but not with the baby blue. They are LITERALLY marketed as "hey look at my big dick." Even more so, they went well beyond that, there was zero mystery as to what's what in them, detail-wise. As one responder said, YES you could even determine one's circumcision status. Clearly. And they weren't even wet yet. If not wanting my kid to wear those in public makes me a prude, so be it.
Thanks to all who responded.

These days my daughters (they are 28yo and 30yo) get a bit of a kick out of ridiculing my “dicklette “ as they call it. They have been going to nude beaches and nudist camps with us since they were born, so they have grown up with nudity. Obviously as they grew up , they would often comment innocently about why my penis was so such smaller than all the other men. Over the years my wife encouraged them to call it a dicklette as she explained to them that it was too small to be called a dick.
After they went through puberty, they started to get much bolder with what they said and would tell their friends about my tiny dicklette and also how their Mum made me keep it smooth and hairless etc. They also started to make comparisons to boys their own age and even worse ……
These days they love to prank me. They give me presents like boy speedos - so far I’ve had Spiderman, Flash, Superman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…..
As a prank present , a couple of years ago, my youngest gave me a chastity cage.
I have lots of incidents of SPH that my family and friends have dished out on me if anyone is interested.

Just for fun, i thought about the logo and characters, so i decided to create some idents starring the main characters.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Tachibana

• Tachibana is looking around an area, suspecting no one sees him, and he spray paints a drawing of Etra-Chan's face against a brick wall and says "Etra Chan Saw It"

Kuroki

• Kuroki is carrying an 80's style silver boombox and a cardboard dancing mat, he lays them down gets on the mat, and starts breakdancing very badly, and when he stops in sweat, he gets up and says "Etra Chan Saw It" with Etra Chans face drawn in marker on the mat

Azami

• Azami is on the couch in her living room watching some TV, and then she starts channel-surfing until she suddenly stops, she grabs her cell phone makes a call and shouts "Etra Chan Saw it" twice to the caller, then we see Etra-Chan on the television

Yuzuriha

• Yuzuriha is preparing a warm bubble bath, and pouring champagne in a glass, she then gets in the tub, grabs the champagne from the bathtub counter, and says "Etra Chan Saw It" while we switch over to a champagne bottle with Etra-Chan's face on it

Karin

• Karin is in a karate gi, and punching a dummy until it's destroyed, when destroyed, Karin says "Etra-Chan Saw It" then we switch over to the decapitated dummy with Etra-Chan's face on the floor

Akani

• Akani is in her bikini going in a tanning booth, when she gets out, her skin is now tanned, but she notices a sticker on her arm, she takes it off to reveal the sticker tanline shaped like Etra-Chan, she then says "Etra Chan Saw It"

Tokusa

• Tokusa is in his room, playing a console video game, but he loses, then groans and says "Etra Chan Saw It" and we then see Etra-Chan's face on the TV screen

Akamatsu

• Akamatsu is cruising around his red sports car in high voltage speed, then he crashes his car into a tree and says "Etra-Chan Saw It" then makes a run for it. We switch over to a sticker of Etra-Chan's face on the roof of the car.

Katsura

• Katsura is studying on what he is inventing a robot, he goes to work into making the robot, when completed the robot reveals to be a version of "Etra-Chan" and Katsura says "Etra-Chan Saw It"

Tsutsuji

• Tsutsuji is blowing an animal balloon of Etra-Chan's face, when completed she picks it up, and then it floats up in the air, and Tsutsuji yells "Etra-Chan saw It" from the air

Yuri

• Yuri is frolicking around a field of flowers laughing, and then stops and says "Etra-Chan Saw It" while the camera zooms to reveal Etra-Chan's face made from the flowers

Hiiragi

• Hiragi is surfing the internet, and then goes to his web account, and see's pictures of him doing random and silly things, he then see's an emoticon shaped like Etra-Chan, coming from the exact account, and says "Etra-Chan Saw It" in admiration at the computer

John

• John comes downstairs in his brown suit ready for work, goes to the fridge, and grabs a sack lunch with a post it note of Etra-Chan's face drawn, and says "Etra-Chan Saw it"

Etra-Chan

• Etra-Chan puts a coin in the slot of a claw machine, then uses the machine to pick out a plushie, she grabs a tiger plushie surrounded by the dolls of the 13 etra-chan saw it cast members, she hugs the toy and says "Etra-Chan Saw It"

Tachibana/Akamatsu/Hiiragi

• The Antagonist Boys are playing some basketball, when Akamatsu misses the hoop, the ball falls into the road and explodes, Hiiragi and Tachibana glare at him, and Akamatsu says "Etra-chan saw it" while a chalk drawing of Etra-Chan's face on a road switches over

Tokusa/Katsura/Kuroki

• The Protagonist Boys are doing some skateboarding tricks, when Kuroki falls on the concrete and screams in pain, and then Tokusa and Katsura walk over and say "Etra-Chan Saw It" while a sticker of Etra-Chan on a sign switches over

Azami/Akani/Yuzuriha

• Yuzuriha, Akani, and Azami, are eating at a food court in separate tables when they all look at each other, they glared angrily, and start a food fight, when they stopped the place and the girls were all a mess, and they all said "Etra-Chan Saw It", we then switch over to a photo of "Etra-Chan" on a signage

Yuri/Tsutsuji/Karin

• Yuri, Tsutsuji, and Karin are lying on grass, gazing at the clouds. Tsutsuji then points a cloud that's shaped like Etra-Chan, and says "Etra-Chan Saw It"

Boys

• The Protagonist and Antagonist boys are playing poker, then Akamatsu does a Royal-Flush and wins angering some of the guys, he then says "Etra-Chan Saw It" after that we switch over to a card that has Etra-Chan's face

Girls

• The Protagnoist and Antagonist girls are having a sleepover, they do makeovers to each other, and some of them are good, except for Azami's who throw's a fit and then hits Yuzuriha, who was the only one laughing, with the pillow, then she hits back, and the two have a pillow-fight, while the other girls watch Yuri says "Etra-Chan Saw It" while we switch over to a pillow that has Etra-Chan's face on it.

Protagonists

• The Protagonists are walking around the park at dusk until they hear some screaming, they transform into justice league-esque superheroes and go into action, while running they stop and do a pose, then say "Etra-chan saw It" while we switch to a searchlight projecting Etra-Chan's face at the night sky

Antagonists

• The Antagonists are smoking cigarettes, then Akane suggests they smoke cigars, they smoke long cigars, and when they smoke are done smoking, they then start to get sick and vomit, except for Tachibana and Yuzuriha for some reason, and Tachibana and Yuzuriha say "Etra-Chan Saw It" while we cut to the smoke coming from the cigar goes up in the air shaped like Etra-Chan.

Group #1

• The 12 Etra Chan Saw It cast members engage in a photoshoot, the boys are only wearing black speedos, and the girls are wearing thong bikinis with there hair down, one by one they each pose for a photo, as the shutter clicks to the next person, and they then engage in a group photo and they all say "Etra-Chan Saw It" while John is only wearing normal clothes walk up to the photo and say's "What they say" and we then cut (via shutter) to the "etra-chan saw it" logo, and then Etra's chan's face in a background

Group #2

• We see a train rushing by, and we see the 13 etra-chan cast members in a caboose relaxing comfortingly, and we see the front of the train, and the person who's driving is Etra-Chan, and everyone on that train says "Etra-Chan Saw It" while the train goes into a tunnel. with smoke rising into the air shaped like Etra-Chan

Group #3

• The Protagonists, Antagonists, John and Etra-Chan are having a pool party, and then John jumps in the water and makes a big splash, soaking most of the members, they then laugh, and they all say "Etra-Chan Saw It" and we then cut to a Pool Tube with Etra-chan's face on it

I thought my Monday was rough. Until I experienced Tuesday. Those who believed that it was important for me to supplement my academic study of male masochism with first-hand experience — Luke, Paul, Brooke, possibly Neil as well — certainly were getting their wish. I less so, although there was no denying the authenticity of it.
I had to wait until Brooke and Luke were asleep to complete my punishment lines. When my alarm went off at 5 AM in Tuesday morning, after only four hours of sleep, I groaned.
As I was driving over to Kevin’s mom’s house, I received a text from him: Get me an Egg McMuffin from McDonald’s on your way here. Text me when you get here so you don’t wake up my mom.
I had dressed in a clean pair of yoga pants and plain black T-shirt (fortunately, at the time, my dresser wasn’t yet full of humiliating shirts, like it is today, and my cuckold horns shirt was filthy), so I was grateful for the drive-thru at McDonald’s. I resisted the temptation to order myself hash browns and instead limited myself to a banana and cup of coffee. I was determined to avoid more punishment on Saturday following my weigh-in.
Although it was to be another unseasonably hot day, the sun was just starting to rise when I pulled up to the house, so it was still fairly cool. Kevin was waiting for me on the porch. He didn’t thank me (let alone offer to reimburse me) for the sandwich, but rather ate it as he walked around his truck, inspecting the work I had already done. Finding fault with the cleanliness of his wheel rims, he instructed me to stop working on the interior of the car and to reapply myself to the wheels and hubcaps. I tried to explain that I had scrubbed these areas repeatedly yesterday, but that some of the blemishes simply could not be removed from the aging vehicle. He stood above me, supervising — as I worked on my knees — pointing to areas that he felt were not sufficiently clean.
“Sir, I can’t get this spot out. I’ve tried several times,” I said, as I strenuously, yet futilely scrubbed a black mark at the bottom of one of the rear wheels. It looked like it had been there for years. Kevin’s filthy plumber’s boots were right next to my face as I crouched down and scrubbed.
“Scrub harder.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m scrubbing as hard as I can. Some of these stains just won’t come off.”
“You’re not trying hard enough. Here, let me try.” He grabbed the sponge from me and bent over to scrub it. It took some effort, but sure enough, he was able to remove the spot.
“See, you’re not working hard enough. Luke will be disappointed.”
“Sir, I promise you that I’m trying as hard as I can. I’m just not as strong as you are, sir. You have really bulked up at the gym since the last time I saw you.” I thought a little flattery might help convince him not to complain about me to Luke.
He flexed his bicep and stared at it admiringly.
“That’s really impressive, sir. Look at mine, by comparison.” I flexed mine, and felt like Popeye without the spinach standing (or, in my case, kneeling) next to Brutus.
“I guess you’re right,” he said. “I’ll tell you what, if you clean my boots and tools, I might not say anything to Luke.”
Have you started to notice a pattern here? A slippery slope of submission. For example, if I hadn’t been forced to clean Luke’s truck that time I was caught by Kelly, I probably would never have met Paul and, therefore, wouldn’t later that day be going to his condo to work as his maid. It seemed that one act of submission and exposure begat another. Where would it end? Would it end? At the time I am making them, however, my concessions always seem like good ideas, given my lack of options.
And so it probably will not surprise you to learn that I replied, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I think I can use the same soapy water and leather conditioner I’m using on your truck. If you remove them, I can get started right away.”
“Remove them? Why bother? Just do them here,” he pulled down the tailgate of his truck and sat on it. I filled a fresh bucket of soap and water and got back on my knees to begin my task.
“My boots are dirtier than usual. My last job was a real shit show. Literally,” he chuckled.
I tried not to think about how exactly his boots got so filthy, as I used a towel to wipe off the foul smelling, caked-on debris. Kevin had a relaxed, arrogant expression on his face, as if having a guy twice his age kneeling before him to clean his boots was the most natural thing in the world. I heard the unmistakable noise of a photo being taken on a phone and looked up to see Kevin’s iPhone pointed at me.
“What are you doing, sir?”
“I just wanted to text Kaylee. She’ll get a kick out of this.”
What could I say in response? Challenge him and likely face Luke’s wrath? I bit my tongue.
After cleaning them, I applied some of the leather conditioner I had used on the truck’s seats and began buffing his boots energetically with a microfiber towel. It was just at that moment, of course, that Kevin’s mom, Darla, walked out of the house in sweatpants and a jacket, a cup of coffee in her hand. I will confess that my cock began to stiffen the moment I got on my knees and looked up at Kevin; the pure act of submitting stoked my arousal, as usual. But it was when Darla arrived that my cock really began to push painfully against its restraints.
“Oh, it’s you again,” she said looking down at me.
“Wally didn’t have time to finish my truck before it got dark yesterday,” said Kevin.
“Good morning, ma’am,” I said.
Ignoring me, she said, “It doesn’t look like he’s cleaning your truck right now to me. I guess Luke’s new lackey is now your lackey too. I raised some smart boys.” She smiled proudly. “At least this one isn’t wearing a bikini like Luke made his first boss wear when the old guy used to clean this truck back before he gave it to you.” She laughed heartily at the fond memory of one of my predecessors’ humiliations at the hands of her older son. So nice to be participating in the family tradition, I thought.
“Well, it is December. It’s a little cold for a bikini,” Kevin laughed. “Walter, stand up and show my mom the pantyhose, or whatever it is, that Luke makes you wear.”
I did as directed, causing Darla to laugh. “Those are women’s work-out pants, honey. But I can see the bulk beneath them. One of Luke’s signature methods of dominating the husbands he cuckolds. As I’ve heard your brother say more than once, ‘If you really want to own a man, control his cock.’”
“Wally is a college professor. Luke said he studied at one of them Ivy League schools, out East.”
“You can see where that’s gotten him,” she said. “Well, it’s a little chilly out here, I’m going back inside. I have I feeling I’ll be seeing more of you,“ she said to me with a smirk as she walked back into the house.
After I finished cleaning his boots, Kevin directed me to go into his garage, bring his tools out into the driveway and wipe them down with soapy water before loading them into the bed of his truck. He watched me work the entire time, not lifting a finger.
When I finished, he paid me a compliment. A most unwanted one, as it tuned out. “Nice job with my boots and my tools. Now that I’ve got my license, I could really use an assistant. I’m gonna talk to Luke about letting me borrow you sometimes.”
I didn’t respond, hoping this thought was just a whim of his that would soon be forgotten. I hoped in vain; it was indeed the slippery slope again, a continuation of my descent.
After I finished with his tools, I spent another hour finishing cleaning the interior of the truck before Kevin headed off to his first job of the day and I headed off to campus. This time, I did change into my jeans in a fast food restaurant on the way, too wary of facing Darla again to go back into the house.
I still wore the leather choker that day, and was highly self-conscious as I lectured to the 24 students in my Chivalry and Courtly Love In Medieval Literature class.
I had to be and Paul’s and Anna’s by 4 PM, so after my lecture, I walked to the drugstore to buy the Johnsons’ furniture wax and a toothbrush. I was starving. Having only had a banana that day, and having eaten very little besides salads, fruit and low-fat cottage cheese since my disappointing weigh-in on Saturday, I decided to treat myself to lunch at my favorite Thai restaurant in town. Given how hard I had worked and how little I had eaten over the last couple of days (and thinking about the humiliation that lay in store for me that afternoon), I figured that I deserved this one small self indulgence. I ordered seafood Tom Yum soup and beef Massaman curry. A caloric dish to be sure, but how much could it possibly hurt after my spartan diet of the last few days?
I was still savoring my soup when the waitress brought my curry and rice to the table. Just at that moment, I saw Neil enter the restaurant with a female colleague, Annabelle Nash (she taught Shakespeare, mainly). They greeted me as they went to their seats, but I could see Neil scrutinize the dishes on my table and shake his head disapprovingly (if subtly). Self conscious as I was, I nevertheless cleaned my plate (grateful Neil’s back was to me at the table where he and Annabelle sat). After I paid my check, I walked over to say goodbye to them.
Neil said, “Hey, pal, would you mind swinging by my office at around 2:30 for a few minutes?”
“Sure thing, Neil. Nice seeing you, Annabelle.”
When I met him in his office later, Neil closed the door and asked me to sit down.
“Walter, I have a bit of a dilemma that I hope you can help me out with. Luke made me promise to tell him if I caught you cheating on your diet on campus.”
“The restaurant is not on campus,” I smiled, attempting a joke.
“You know what I mean,” he answered, with a serious expression. “Was that beef Massaman curry? Do you know how many calories are in that dish?! And all the carbs in the rice? You should always ask for brown rice instead of white, you know. And you had soup too, I noticed.”
“But I barely ate anything the past three days. And I only had a banana for breakfast.”
“You’re always making excuses. That’s why you’ve basically been stuck at the same weight now for the last few weeks. You’re at a threshold, and to lose more, you need to be super disciplined about what you eat, and exercise more. No more excuses, Walter.”
“You’re right, sir. Please don’t tell Luke,” I pleaded.
“Look, I know what my telling him means for you as a consequence. But I promised him I would. And his methods with you have been successful. I feel I have to honor my promise.”
“Please, don’t. Maybe I can make it up to you somehow. How about a foot massage?”
“Giving me a foot massage isn’t going to burn many calories.” He thought for a minute. “I tell you what. The four days a week that we’re on campus together, how about if you bring me a coffee each day in between my classes? I don’t think that will conflict with your teaching schedule, and the exercise of walking to the Corner Cafe each day will do you good. It’s 3300 steps there and back; I’ve measured it on my iPhone. That way, I won’t feel as guilty for not telling Luke about catching you cheating on your diet today.”
“Yes, thanks Neil. Sir, I mean. That seems more than fair.”
Neil got up and shook my hand. “Deal. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir’ here on campus, pal.”
“Thanks, Neil.”
“But I will take you up on that offer for your amazing foot massages on Wednesdays after my back-to-back classes. You can give me one tomorrow when you bring my coffee.”
“Of course, thanks again, Neil,” I said, as I left his office. And so that is how I came to be Neil’s coffee boy for the balance of the semester (and future semesters, even during my sabbatical). And his foot boy, or reflexologist, or whatever you want to call it. Notice how it went from me offering to give him one foot massage in return for his silence, to me getting his coffee four days a week and massaging his feet once a week. In an instant! I guess negotiation was not one of my strong suits.
As I drove to Paul and Anna’s condo — the next stop on my gauntlet of service and humiliation that day —the Paul Simon song Slip Sliding Away ran through my head, the refrain in particular:
Slip sliding away You know the nearer your destination The more you’re slip sliding away
If old Paul was correct, the further I slid down the slope, the closer I’d come to my true nature. I wondered how much further I had to slip. Would I be the slave to everyone by the time I finally reached the bottom of the slope?
As I parked my car, I did another mental inventory of what I needed for my second visit to the condo. Johnsons’s furniture wax, check. Toothbrush, check. Punishment lines, check. I was wearing sheer, black nylon panties under my jeans. Then I remembered: I had completely forgotten Anna’s directive that I research and practice how to curtsy. All I could do is hope that she had forgotten. If not, maybe I could wing it? Better yet, maybe she wouldn’t be there this time. But did I really want to be alone with Paul?
Carrying a bag that contained my punishment lines as well as the furniture polish and toothbrush, I entered the lobby to find the same obnoxious doorman as last Tuesday, sitting behind his desk.
“I’m here to see Paul Betz.”
“And you are?” He knew perfectly well who I was, but wanted to force me to say it.
“The maid.” I looked down at the floor, ashamed.
He picked up the intercom. “Mr. Betz, your maid is here to clean your apartment. May I send HIM up?” The prick just had to emphasize my gender.
“Mr. Betz said you may go up. Apartment 11B. The elevator is around the corner,” he said, as if I had never been there before, a smug smile plastered to his face.
“Yes, thank you. I remember.”
When I got to their door, I got down on my knees, as Paul had instructed me. Should I have rung the bell first? Should I knock? Or would that annoy them? I had been announced, so they knew I would be coming up the elevator. I waited there for several minutes. The longer I waited, however, it seemed to make less and less sense to ring the bell. Maybe they were busy and not ready for me yet, even though I was very punctual? Maybe they were….having sex? I didn’t want to risk disturbing them. And, so, I continued to wait.
I then heard the elevator door open, with dread. A woman, probably in her mid thirties, walked by me to her apartment across the hall, staring down at me with an amused expression. When she opened her door, I heard her yell to someone in the apartment, “It looks like Paul and Anna have a new one,” before the door slammed shut.
Just then the the door in front of me finally opened. I saw Paul’s feet first.
“You may enter. Remember, on your knees.”
I put my hands down to crawl into the apartment, before he snapped at me: “No! I didn’t say on your hands and knees. I said on your knees.”
I shuffled forward into the apartment, cursing myself for having not purchased knee pads, as Paul had suggested. I told myself that I would have to start taking notes from now on , so I wouldn’t forget things I’d later regret.
“Lines,” he said, simply.
I pulled the several loose leaf pages out of my bag and handed them to Paul. “Here, sir.”
As much as it hurt my hand to write all of those lines, the mental anguish of having to repeatedly write that I would no longer mention academic integrity — a subject that I was passionate about (ridiculous as it might seem to you, coming from a professor about to clean the apartment of two of his students) — was worse. Paul knew that, of course. I was to learn that, despite their many differences in style, like Luke, he was a natural sadist, with an impressive ability to zero in on areas of his victim’s vulnerability or sensitivity to exploit for maximum humiliation. Lucky me.
“I’ll count them and check the neatness of your writing later. Did you bring the Johnsons wax and toothbrush?”
“Yes, sir. Here.” I showed him the contents of my bag.
Anna then came into the living room from the kitchen, munching on an apple. Both were dressed similarly to last time, Paul in sweatpants and Anna in tight yoga pants. Anna was barefoot this time, her pretty, pedicured toes painted a metallic silver color. She caught me staring at her toes, and smiled.
“Don’t worry, Professor Rollins, you will get to know my feet very well. They will be your best friends before long.”
“More like his unattainable crush,” Paul snickered.
“Crushes,” Anna corrected him. “Professor maid will have a crush on both of my feet and on all ten of my toes. He will worship them and he will pine for them. And they won’t give him the time of day,” she said. Then she abruptly said to me, “Obeisance!”
“Excuse me, Princess Anna?”
“Obeisance means assume the position of respect and humility before your superiors,” Paul explained.
“Yes, sir. I know the meaning of the word, but I don’t know what position she means.”
“I don’t like your condescending tone. It reminds me of when you corrected me in class on Monday about the cucking stool. We’re going to teach you not to use that tone with us. Certainly not here, where you are nothing more than a slave. But not in class either. You will be very careful in how you interact with Anna, Kelly and me in class from now on. We are your special students.”
“We are the teacher’s pets, and the teacher is our pet,” giggled Anna.
I certainly didn’t intend to be condescending — I was on my knees, for fuck’s sake — but I guess that quality just naturally creeps into my tone at times, unconsciously. Perhaps an occupational hazard of being a professor? Or at least, a hazard in the situations in which I increasingly found myself.
“Strip,” ordered, Paul.
“Yes, sir. May I stand for a moment?”
Paul nodded his ascent. I quickly removed my shoes, socks, shirt and jeans, and stood before them in my panties and chastity cage.
“Obeisance here means you drop down onto your belly, you clasp your hands behind your back and you slither like the worm you are to your superior’s feet and kiss each one reverently. Obeisance!”
I was standing several feet away from them. I did exactly what Paul described, finding that the only way to propel myself forward from that position was to grind my crotch into the floor. Not only was it incredibly uncomfortable, but I feared that my chastity cage might scratch their hardwood floor. Fortunately, there was an area rug covering most of the space separating us, so I was able to slide myself — indeed, “slither” was the correct word — towards their feet. Figuring ladies first, I planted kisses on Anna’s lovely bare feet, followed by Paul’s socked feet.
Paul asked me, “Where is Luke today?”
Still prostrate on my belly, inches from their toes, I answered, “He is traveling today, sir.”
“Overnight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about your wife?”
“She is working tonight.”
“You didn’t say ‘sir.’ That’s one demerit. At the restaurant?”
I had never said anything to them about Brooke’s job, even during Paul’s initial interrogation of me at O’Riordans. His detailed knowledge of my life was unsettling.
“Yes, sir.”
“What time does she get home? Don’t lie, I have my ways of checking.”
“Usually around 10:30 or so, sir.”
Anna interjected, “Good, you can work longer than two hours, then. The condo is a disaster, and we’re having a little get together on Thursday. That little bitch, Chrissy, said her mother is sick. Supposedly. So she wasn’t able to clean on Sunday. You have your work cut out for you, professor maid. Where is your page uniform?”
Oh, no! Another order, I forgot. I didn’t hesitate to lie. “My wife wore the jacket today, princess. She occasionally likes to wear it.” Did Paul have ways of checking on that, too, I wondered.
“Bring it with you on Thursday. Fortunately, I picked out some other things for you to wear today. You’ll find your clothes on and next to the spanking bench in the dungeon. You can change in there and then present yourself to us before you start cleaning.”
“Yes, princess. Thank you.”
As I walked upstairs to the dungeon, I was still trying to process Anna’s extremely troubling remark a moment earlier. Not the fact that I had to work longer than two hours, nor that the condo was especially messy. Rather, it was the fact that they were planning on inviting guests on Thursday, the day I was to spend four hours with them, including preparing and serving them dinner. They had promised me that I wouldn’t be subjected to further exposure. Still, I had to risk asking, at some point, who they planned to invite to their “little get together.”
Expecting to find a maid’s uniform in the dungeon, I was not completely mistaken. Draped over the spanking bench were sheer black, thigh high stockings and a garter belt as well as a white lace maid’s cap. On the floor next to the bench were a pair of what appeared to be brand new, black high heels. Presumably, these were purchased specifically for me and would not painfully pinch my feet like Chrissy’s did.
The garter had a velcro clasp, so was relatively easy to put on. I initially struggled attaching the metal clasps to the thigh highs, but got those on as well. I then put the on the ridiculous cap. Finally, the most challenging part: the heels. They were my size, thankfully, but I was very unsteady in them, even partially twisting my ankle when I first tried to walk in them. Regarding myself in a large mirror hung inside the door to the dungeon, I looked utterly absurd, especially with my bare torso and rock-hard nipples.
Anna laughed loudly when I wobbled my way into the living room, where she and Paul were now reclining on the couch. My cock strained against its cage as I stood before my young monarchs, watching them scrutinize my ridiculously attired form.
“Don’t worry, professor. You’ll get used to the heels before you know it. Now let’s see you curtsy.”
The moment I was dreading. Should I confess to her that I had forgotten her instructions and beg her forbearance? Or should I wing it? I chose the latter, and chose unwisely. Not having a skirt to lift, I sort of mimicked lifting a phantom one and lamely bent my knees before standing straight again. There was no extending my right foot behind my left, no holding my position for two seconds when I bent my knees, no lowering my chin, no maintaining eye contact with my mistress. In other words, my improvisation was a dismal failure.
“That’s pathetic. Did you bother to practice at all?”, asked Anna, with a scowl.
“Yes, princess. Maybe I picked a bad how-to video.”
“You only watched one? You didn’t read anything about the different steps involved? It’s not hard to find instructions on Google. I checked myself. You either are lying to me or you’re a complete bimbo. Is it really true that we can’t leave marks on his ass?”, she asked Paul.
“For now, yes, unfortunately. But I think I’ve figured out some ways to punish him that won’t leave any long lasting marks.”
“Good. He deserves it. Maybe a little pain will help you remember to do what we tell you to do in the future, and to do it properly,” said Anna to me.
“Yes, Princess Anna. I promise to study how to curtsy very carefully before Thursday.”
“You better. Including a deep curtsy.”
“But that doesn’t get you off the hook for fucking up today,” said Paul. “Now get busy.”
I gathered up their dirty laundry first (scattered throughout the apartment), and started a load. The condo was indeed a mess. I later learned that Paul and Anna simply never picked up after themselves. Why should they when they had a seemingly ever increasing stable of menials to do so for them. However, when one of the servants fell ill or for some other reason failed to clean on their allotted days, the next one paid the price, as I did that day. It was quite challenging walking in the heels, but Anna was correct that I got used to them fairly quickly. By the end of the nearly four hours I was with them that Tuesday, I was managing to walk in them reasonably steadily.
As I worked, I caught snippets of their conversation.
Anna said, “It’s a bummer we don’t get to control his cock.”
Paul replied, “I know. But I’m working on that. It’s going to take a little time.”
“That’s good. Without control of his cock, it doesn’t feel like he’s truly our slave, you know what I mean?”
“I do. Just be patient.”
“How do you plan to do it?” Anna glanced at me. “Or don’t you want him to hear?”
“I don’t care if he hears or not. There’s nothing he can do about it. The key is to make friends with Luke. He was willing to lend Rollins to us at the Ren fair when we asked. My guess is he’ll be willing to share him again. And regularly. Besides, Professor Larson told me Luke built a huge pool at his house. I’d love to swim there when the weather gets nice. Indoor pools just aren’t the same.”
I knew that Paul had taken one of Neil’s classes last year, but hearing that they had been in touch since the Ren fair — bonding over their shared love of swimming, no doubt — was concerning. I hoped that there wasn’t anything else they were bonding over.
Anna instructed me to use the Johnsons wax I had purchased to polish the expensive looking coffee table and end tables in their large living room. They watched TV as I worked around them, ordering me as they did last time to serve them drinks. The toothbrush was for me to clean the crevices in the tiled bathroom floor of the master bathroom. Anna said that the crevices made it difficult to thoroughly clean with a mop. That may have been true, but I suspected this was more about humiliation than cleanliness. She supervised me as knelt down and scrubbed the first few tiles, urging me to pay particular attention to those closest to the toilet. She stood in the entrance way, as I bent over with my panty-clad ass sticking out. Although my cock fought against its confines almost the entire time I was there that day, there were certain moments such as this that the throbbing was particularly unpleasant.
As I was mopping the kitchen floor, I heard an alarm go off.
“Get your ass in here!”, I heard Paul yell from the living room. “It’s time for your punishment. Normally, I don’t administer correction until a servant has completed all assigned tasks for the day, but since we can’t leave any visible marks on you for the time being, I’m going to make an exception for you. Five demerits from last week plus one from today. Not to mention your compete failure to learn how to properly curtsy. Get over my knees.”
“But what about the punishment lines, sir?”
“You’re questioning me? They were to address a separate issue: your idiotic obsession with academic integrity.”
“But, sir, didn’t you say that you would address my demerits on Thursday when I would be here longer?”
“That was before I knew you could stay here longer today. I intend to take advantage of it. But I’m also happy to administer part of your punishment today and part of it on Thursday. I’m sure that our guests will enjoy it.”
“Uh, sir, I was meaning to ask you about that. You, you…you and Princess Anna promised you wouldn’t tell anyone or show anyone…” My tongue was tied.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, professor. Our guests are Kelly and Archer,” said Anna.
“Archer, princess?”
“Archer is Kelly’s boyfriend. You two go way back. He saw you cleaning Luke’s truck in a speedo and you cleaned his muddy boots at the Ren fair. That was so much fun!, Anna giggled.
“What are you waiting for?,” Paul snapped.
I walked over to him and lay across his knees. Across the knees of my student, dressed as some fetishized maid. It was a truly surreal moment.
“The advantage of a hand spanking is that it can hurt quite a bit, but it won’t leave marks. The redness will fade in a couple of hours, and I think I know how to go right up to the edge of leaving bruises without actually leaving them. The key is lots of repetition. I’m going to give you twenty spanks for each demerit. Normally, it would only be ten, but that’s when I’m using a paddle, strap or crop. Or cane. We will inspect your cleaning when you’re done, and any additional demerits you earn today will be addressed on Thursday.” Paul rubbed my bottom with his hand as he spoke, a sensual exertion of control that I did not expect.
“Did you ever think you’d get to spank one of your professors?”, Anna asked her boyfriend with almost childlike delight.
“Great to check this one off the bucket list. Someday, I’d like to have a Senator or Governor over my knees.”
“How about the President?”
“You never know. There are submissive cucks and closet masochists in all walks of life.”
And with that observation, Paul’s hand came down hard on my panty-clad bottom. It came down again and again. The first strike hurt, but it was the cumulative effect that really turned this hand spanking into a tear-inducing punishment. I managed to be fairly stoic until about the 30th strike. By around the 50th, I was kicking my legs. Eventually I kicked with sufficient force that both of my heels came off. Although my sheer panties offered next to no protection, about midway through my punishment, Paul pulled them down and struck me on my bare bottom. Around the same time the tears came, I started squirming around on Paul’s lap.
“Stay still!”
I tried, but as the spanks kept coming, I continued to squirm on his lap. Paul then reached between my legs and firmly grabbed my balls. That certainly got my attention.
As he squeezed them, Paul said, “Do you think you can be still now?”
‘Yes, sir. I do!”
Through great exertion of will, I was able to remain still as Paul delivered the final twenty or strokes. He pushed me roughly off his lap onto the floor after he finished.
“Normally, I would now make you stand in the corner with your ass on display for 30 minutes or so, but I want to make sure you have time to finish cleaning.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes and replied, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Anna sat down next to Paul on the couch and, inserting her hand into his sweatpants. said, “That was hot. Did it excite you as much as it did me? Oh, I can feel that it did! Let’s go fuck on our freshly made bed.”
“Sounds good, babe. If we’re quick, he can wash the sheets again before he leaves.”
Which is exactly what happened. Their inspection of my work only resulted in two additional demerits this time.
Before I left, Anna gave me detailed instructions for the meal I was to prepare on Thursday.
It was 9:30 PM by the time I got home. Given that Luke was away, I was hoping Brooke would release me when she got home and give me footjob or maybe even allow me to make love to her like she did on Thanksgiving. As exhausted as I was, I had been in a near constant state of frustrated sexual arousal throughout the day and its myriad humiliations, and I was dying to be released.
Unfortunately, Brooke had a difficult night at the restaurant (two men who hit on her, and one who stiffed her after she politely rebuffed him) and was in a foul mood. So instead of being released, I spent still more time on my now truly aching knees, giving her a long foot massage through her sweaty stockings as she silently watched TV.
That was still the highlight of my long, long day.

Started rewatching again and just watched the one with the family staying on the boat with Stevie's family. It starts with Hal trying on a speedo and touching another woman's butt mistaking it for Lois. He is arrested as Malcom ignores him to flirt with a girl. Lois blows up on Malcom because Hal could have been registered as an offender. Hal is ignoring Malcom all until he reveals it's because a fishing rod he bought based on Malcom mentioning it would be nice to do before.
I think Lois and Hal both have commendable moments as parents dealing with some of the most difficult children 😅 but I thought this was a good one that shows Hal's unconditional love for his son.
Hal seems to value moments and gifts and stress less about the future with Lois being the opposite by making sure her family has the necessities and as much security as possible on their income. She also heavily steps into momma bear mode when her boys aren't at fault for something - like her getting revenge for Reese against the girls that humiliated him in high school.

Daddy (45 -M4M) looking for a skinny, naturally hairless Twink Boy (18-26 y.o.) IRL who is curious, can travel and wants to be punched in the stomach among other things. Love a skinny, smooth boy in tidy whities, and who wear other v-shaped briefs and speedos. Hairless boy is key, even on ABs and thighs. Live in Fredericksburg and work in Richmond. I have some freaky fetishes, like grinding, kissing, wrestling, gut punching (MAJOR TURN ON), sucking dick, and other stuff. Daddy really enjoys smooth, tight, skinny, and hairless twink boys...I can dominate them so good and they will want more. Must be turned on by handsome white mid-40s Daddy types. HMU cuz I am looking in person. For the boys that like it rough, daddy will make you CUM HARD.
Processing img putv65egynwc1...

Help DH won't wear speedos but going to France! Mumsnet
184 replies
letitgoletitgo6 · Yesterday 20:52
Taking DCs to Disney land Paris in May. DH has severe body dysmorphia and getting clothes that he will wear is a nightmare as he genuinely hates the way he looks (there's absolutely nothing wrong with the way he looks but it's not as easy as just telling him that!)
So I've recently found out about the law in France about all men and boys having to wear speedos when swimming. We aren't staying at Disney we are staying at the centre parks so we definitely plan on going swimming. He's point blank refusing to wear them which I do completely understand as he will worry about it every hour until we go. However if he doesn't go then non of us can go in as Dc are small and can't swim without help and I can't help both on my own. Is there a speedo alternative that's a bit more body forgiving that I could suggest to him?
Waffleson · Yesterday 20:54
Would he wear jammers, which are like cycling shorts? Still tight but cover more.
JuvenileBigfoot · Yesterday 20:54
What...!? How can that be a law!?
Seashor · Yesterday 20:54
Everyone will be wearing them, he honestly needs to get over it. Harsh but true.
Utini · Yesterday 20:55
We stayed at centre parcs near Paris a couple of years ago and DP wore normal swimming trunks. No one said anything.
Clearinguptheclutter · Yesterday 20:55
Are you staying at villages nature? We are too but early June.
We’ve come across this rule in France before and my dh was “no way” but in fact it was all fine, choice of swimwear was not at all enforced
following, anyway!
letitgoletitgo6 · Yesterday 20:55
u/Waffleson I will have a look at those thank you!
genuinely thought someone was having me on when they told me but it really is a law and apparently they are very strict on it!

This isn't a very common topic to start off on but if the community name stands true then it dosent matter. I'm 16 years old, I'm a busy man, I go to school and work my butt off, I've joined the millitary, and I have to balance all that with having a girlfriend (joke). A few hours ago I think I just experienced something thats going to change me forever.
I've owned guinea pigs in the past, 4 of them, they all lived long lives and where very happy, they passed at 7 years old from natrual causes. Since I ever set eyes on a guineapig something switched in me and It's been a love/hate relationship with it ever since. When I see a guineapig I get so sad because I think of all the misunderstood guineapigs out there who are being abused and mistreated, I think it's their innocence, and their kind demeanor. When I feel this way it's incredibly powerful, I get so sad, and get that feeling that you get before you read your speech in grade 6. I mention this paragraph because it kinda ties in with the next paragraph.
About 6 or 7 months ago my girlfriend adopted 2 rescue guinea pigs, soob and Mr.lemon, Mr.lemon was the cutest guy you'll ever meet, although he had no hair he was still very fun to pet. Soob is a little shy and skiddish but he's a great guy too, this one has fur. My girlfriend is the kindest woman you'll ever meet, and she loves these animals just as much as I do, she takes so much care of them it's incredible.
So around 8-9 hours ago I get a call from my girlfriend, it was random especially on a Wednesday afternoon, she usually studies around 3ish. My girlfriend calls me worried and tells me that when she was holding mr lemon he wriggled out of her hands (he wriggles alot) and fell onto the floor, she's about 5,4 so not 6ft or anything but still for such a delicate animal thats a super high fall. She told me that his back legs weren't moving, and that's when that feeling I mentioned went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. I drove over to my girlfriends house and took a look at him, and honestly he was himself, he was wondering around eating spinach, if it wasn't for his rear legs being limp I wouldn't suspect a thing. I drove him and her to the emergency vet 20 mins from her house, we got there and got into a room quick and were met with a woman that would just quickly check him before the vet did.
The woman asked some questions and took a look at him, my girlfriend at this point is bawling her eyes out, and will be throughout the rest of this story. In the end the lady says that his spine is broken. Fuck.
Now the vet comes in, very nice lady. At this point I'm thinking how much is this going to cost, we ain't rich, I'm from hicktown alberta and so is she, 200 dollars for an xray ain't cheap for a 16 year old student, checkup alone is 200 bucks. We talk to the vet then she gives us some time to talk. We concluded our talk with this.
Mr lemons spine is broken, there are numerous possibilities regarding specifically what to do, all will require a checkup, xray, and mri just to find the issue specifically, not counting surgery, therapy, meds, and the numerous checkups after all that because ultimately lemon is now paralyzed. For life. In the end I gather that even If we did have the money, this poor young soul wouldn't want to endure being paralyzed for the rest of his life. The nurse said he'd require constant eyes and care, and as you know, a student can't do that. There was no choice except for us to decide to put him down, so I talked with the nurse because my girlfriend would've felt so horrible to ask about putting the little guy to sleep. From then on it was lots of tears on her side, I said goodbye to lemon before they got the needles in because I'm scared of them, and then I just sat in the waiting room for hours. In the end it's over and lemon passed away peacefully in my girlfriends arms, he loves her so much, he was licking her till his last moments. We got home and buried him in my backyard where I buried all my other gunea pigs years ago.
Throughout this time I was trying so hard not to cry, and in alberta boys grow up around a be a man oriented environment, which I have no problem with, but thats just how bad it was, even i was fighting tears. After I dropped my girlfriend off I drove around the block to find a secluded place to cry, because I've been fixin to do it since this all started. I sat in my car for half an hour and couldn't bring myself to it, I just sat there emotionless, I felt something click inside of me when I got the phone call hours ago, but I was too focused on the situation to notice it, but noe that it was over i finally noticed it and I knew it was bad. I drove home completely out of it, I wasn't even looking at the road, just stared into the speedo, it's like I was some shell of my former self. Now I get home and I'm sitting here writing this, few minutes before I went up to the fridge in hopes of chugging some form of alcohol, something was pulling me towards it, just wanted sum I guess. This Is weird because I am the most anti drug guy you'll ever meet, I vaped once or twice in jr high and that's it, never again, so now all of a sudden I'm here exited to wake up Tommorow and drink vodka all day (I'm stayin home from school) so its certainly not a good time for me right now.
I hate myself if we want to cut to the chase here. I'm so angry, I could turn my room into a cow pen if I wanted to, I'm rarely like this, people say I'm well kept, smart and kind, I like to think that way, so me being like this is big, I really miss the person I was before this all happened. Worst thing of all is that I'm kind of mad at my girlfriend, I know it was an accident and she hates herself more than I do, but that instinct just kicked in, to me she hurt an animal, but I can't tell her that, for the almost 2 years we've been together I know shes sensitive and that this is the wrong time to talk about how she hurt her guinea pig.
I'm just scared, my grades are low because I was studyin for the CFAT, a millitary test (i'm bad at math so I had to cut some school time to pass) so math in school right now is a failin 48%, I have a test in 2 days and I've been working my butt off to do good, but now that this is on my mind I might fuck the whole damn thing and waste my progress, ontop of that, the next week I have midterm exams and by then I might just be a good damn alcoholic, all while having to support my girlfriend too. Haven't even gotten to know the new me yet and I'm already Startin to worry.
So my final question, what do I do? Anything is welcome be it advice, jokes, help. Whatever it is just give er.
Thanks alot

https://twitter.com/pewpiece/status/1778269464259100983
" The Five Elders are on a rampage!!! Can the Straw Hats escape their clutches!? "
Kuma's punching Waturn? That generous old chad let him do it, too surprised to see how well he had grown. His little protégé really became a great and powerful warrior, his dad would be proud! Waturn's sweat drops were of great emotion and nostalgia, not fear. And let's not talk about Rubble-Sama, Waturn was too focused on the emotional baggage from that Make-A-Wish bear. Plus, why even use any haki or dodging, when you know you'll be good? He didn't fell endangered, he's that much of a menace.
Loony and Goofy clowning Winturn? I'll let it slide for Wranky, because speedo guy is HIM...But those other two? Warrior God of Science was merely testing the full capacity of his pink-haired tube baby, see how far his experiment had evolved! As for Hax 5, while Pizzaru catching his breath, Larimo style, Godturn is only entertaining him. He's a big fan of Looney Tunes.
Bloony having the need for Leinstein's hax against Lacifista Mark L? Gandhi coming in with Ryuma's (Strongest Swordsman of All Times) equal feats. One Second, One Sword, One Freeze. Gandhijuro, World Strongest Racist, sorry Loro.
You want AP and not just hax? Don't ask anymore, Waturn's nuke-tastic venom balls are here for you. Goofy knew not to let them explode near him or hit him, they're THAT dangerous, unlike Gyarodos' Mid Bagua; even Oden's Personal Drier could match that.
WarCRIMINALcury's Haki Breath scaled up all the Worosei even more. Shiznet made Ruffy's whole anatomy fell off, even the almighty chanclas, the same ones that NoDiffed Mr Low 3. Warcury and Worosei > Buffy's chanclas > Flatino (who betrayed Wuggy, a Lanks' rat-like behaviour) > Lorry and Moogly.
And let's not even talk about the efficiency of motherfricking Mongolian Death Worm and Reaper Bird. Without Elbaf's janitors' dishonest sneak attacks, Strawman would have finished in Mary Geoise's Sewer System. Even Winbei of the Blue-Haki Men and Vegapunk's vore fantasy clone were afraid of their almighty presence...And it's Megapunkass we're talking about? A brain that have seen it all! But the vision of the GOATS was too much, even for him!
Invest now, boys. They are THEM.
Against Gorosei, the only answer is decay!

Edit: I hope it’s clear that Im reflecting here using the almost subconscious beliefs I used to hold, and speaking from my perspective as an 11-12 year old. These aren’t beliefs I hold now. Further nothing here is meant to be applicable to anyone else’s experience, I am not speaking in generalities, I am talking about what happened to me.
My experience was not positive, but that doesn’t mean I’m saying anything negative about being gay. If you’re younger, while I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you, just be grateful that you have positive gay role models and that stable LGBTQ households are no longer viewed by the media like some science experiment.
Originally I titled this-should I just accept myself as a sub?
But really it’s about how broken my childhood experience of gayness left me.
It’s like I can’t accept myself as normal ever. 30 years to accept being gay. That accpetance being me going on an epic hookup spree. But then relationships, gay relationships?
I’m still in the process of accepting what kinky fuck I am. No I’m not normal enough to get close to anyone but will never be normal enough?
TBH figuring out I’m gay, well it happened like a car crash. Picture me, the most sheltered evangelical little Christian boy imaginable. I truly did not know two men could be together. I hit puberty start looking at men’s health, start searching for speedo guys on the computers. And then I find it’s gay porn, that I’m gay!
It broke my world. It was 2001, I’d thought id have a wife, a family or even date my whole life before that. It was all laid out for me by Nickelodeon and the Disney channel. But gay? I mean people barely thought two men could be a family back then.
I cannot explain what a break in my timeline this was. I feel like my being split. “Gay people don’t get to be in love,” is what the world told me, and if they are in love it’s different/less than.
So I think my poor little self, so young and confused just accepted I’d be alone forever back then. Being gay was just the fantasies on porn sites and my constant constant hope that some other horny gay guy would stare at me the right way and we’d go to the bathroom or something. This has been my experience of being gay for pretty much my whole life, a wish and a fantasy. Until recently when I finally embraced that I’m actually fucking gay, for real,and that is something I can actually love about myself.
Today I love who I am, I love my sexuality, being gay is amazing.
But I still feel like I’m waiting to be “normal,” or better yet deserving of the intimacy I once told myself I could never have. And I have a whole bunch of fetishes/kinks as well, which is like another layer of coming out. And to be real, dating is a fucking nightmare. And I’m autistic. So, slim chances it feels like.
But you know that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve the chance to meet someone. And truly there are all kinds of love that are all just as beautiful.
I hope one day I’ll be able to reach back to my inner child, drawing his little house with crayons with his wife and his dog and say “there was actually something different and better waiting for you all along.”
I just don’t know how that healing happens and if it’s too late.
Sorry this went on and that I rambled like a crack head . Don’t know what this post is either a personal essay or a question. Hope you guys got something out of it.

Daddy (44 -M4M) looking for a skinny, naturally hairless, boyish twink (18-26 y.o.) who is curious and can travel. Love a skinny, smooth boy in tidy whities, and who wear other v-shaped briefs and speedos. Hairless boy is key, even on ABs and thighs. Live in Fredericksburg and work in Richmond. I have so freaky fetishes, like grinding, kissing, wrestling, gut punching, and other stuff. This the kind of boys I like. MUST be attracted to mid-40s daddy types before you reach out to me.

O’Riordans was fairly empty at 6 PM on that particular Tuesday. The place had a distinctive, unpleasant odor (stale beer and vomit, most likely). All three of the back booths were unoccupied. I ordered a myself a Diet Coke at the bar, and sat down at a booth in the corner that seemed like it would offer the most privacy, as no other tables were very close to it. I sipped my soda and looked nervously towards the entrance, hoping against hope that Paul might have lost his nerve. After all, I was pretty sure that what he was threatening to do was illegal. However, I knew little about the law and figured I’d better hear him out before jumping to any conclusions. I also thought that perhaps I could reason with him about the importance of maintaining academic integrity. Surely, he would understand that by inflating his, Kelly’s and Anna’s grades, it would devalue the grades of everyone in the college, including their own in other classes.
Nevertheless, driving over, it occurred to me that I probably should have brought along a tape recorder to record our conversation. But I wasn’t even sure THAT was legal. While sitting there waiting, it dawned on me that I might be able to record him with my iPhone somehow. My knowledge of technology rivaled my knowledge of the law; it was nearly nonexistent. I did a quick Google search, however, and discovered that it indeed was possible to record an external conversation with my iPhone.
Following the directions that I read on Google, I hit record on my Voice Memos app and put my phone back in my pocket. I figured that I could always research the legality of recording conversations without consent later. For the moment, I was chiefly concerned with protecting myself. Meanwhile, I continued to wait.
Paul finally sauntered into the bar at around a quarter past 6. This was deliberate, no doubt. He was demonstrating that he was the one in control; I was adhering to his timetable, not the other way around. He sat down confidently on the seat across from me and put his iPhone on the table. As I had mentioned previously, Paul was tall and slender. He was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers. I really had not paid close attention to his physique in class, but sitting across from him, I noticed that he was quite muscular beneath his shirt, especially around his shoulders and neck.
“Put your phone on the table next to mine, Rollins.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
For whatever reason, I did as he commanded. Perhaps it was because of the authoritative tone of his voice. Perhaps it was because I was worried that he was in a position to damage my reputation. Perhaps it was simply what Brooke had said to me on numerous occasions— that I was fundamentally a beta male, unwilling and/or unable to stand up for myself when challenged by an alpha male. Or alpha female, for that matter.
“Power down your phone. I would too, but I think you’re going to want to see some of the photos in my library.”
I again followed his command. That was to become the defining characteristic of our relationship going forward, as you shall see. So much for recording our conversation.
He said, “What are you drinking, Rollins?”
“A Diet Coke.”
“Get me a pint of the IPA they have on tap. You probably should get yourself something stronger than a soda. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”
“Aren’t you under age? I could get in trouble for buying you a beer.”
“I’ll be 21 in a few months. I drink here all the time and know most of the bartenders. I live just down the road. You don’t need to worry about getting into trouble. Now, bring me my beer.”
After I returned the table with his IPA and my refilled Coke, he said, “You’re sticking with soda, I see. Suit yourself. How much time do you have? I know you have other masters to serve.”
“Other what? What are you talking about?”
“I asked you a question. How much time do you have?”, Paul repeated, firmly.
“I’m expected home by 7:30.”
“Why?”
“I’m cooking my wife dinner tonight.”
“You mean Brooke. That’s her name, right?”
“Yes.”
“I bet you cook dinner more than occasionally. And what about Luke? Are you cooking dinner for him as well? Don’t lie to me. I’m eventually going to find out the truth, and you will seriously regret it if I ever find out you’re lying to me.”
“Yes, I’m cooking dinner for both of them.”
“I figured. Alright, I wanted to know how much time we have. We have quite a bit to cover in a limited amount of time. By ‘other masters,’ I mean that, effective immediately, you have a new master to serve. Well, two actually. I told you on the first day of class that I’m a dominant guy. Kelly knew that when she convinced me to take your class. That was after she and Jake saw you cleaning Luke’s truck wearing a pink speedo. Hearing about that, and about you teaching a class on male masochism, I was naturally intrigued. Anna and I get off on dominating and humiliating betas like you. We live together in a condo just a couple of miles away from here. You’ll get to know it well. Kelly and Jake are our good friends. They haven’t owned slaves like Anna and I have, but they enjoy a little domination, too, now and again. It’s a bit more recreational for them, whereas Anna and I are pretty serious about it.”
“Look, Mr. Betz, I don’t know what misconception you’re operating under that makes you think I’m going to change your grades because you tell me to, or serve as your slave or something, just because I am teaching a class on male masochism. But I…”
“Shut the fuck up, Rollins. I’m not operating under any misconception whatsoever. It’s obvious that you’re submissive to your wife and Luke. A submissive cuckold. Luke is her ex-husband, right?”
“Yes. How did you know that?”
“Rumors get around. I guess she must have missed him. Looking at the two of you, it’s not hard to understand why. Anyone who washes his wife lover’s truck dressed the way you were, or polishes his wife’s lover’s boots in public dressed the way you were, is obviously more than just a run of the mill cuckold. You’re obviously some kind of serious masochist. I was sincere when I said that I was mistaken for questioning your credentials to teach the class. You were even polishing Neil Lawson‘s boots, for fuck’s sake. That’s seriously kinky! What’s that all about? Are you submissive to him as well? Your fellow professor?”
“Of course not. We were at a Ren fair! I was just playing a part. I drew the short straw and had to be the page. That’s all it was, nothing more.”
Paul laughed, dismissively. “Just like you simply lost a bet, which is why you were washing Luke’s truck dressed in a pink speedo, right? ‘Nothing to see here folks.’ Get real, Rollins. No one‘s going to be stupid enough to buy that bullshit. Especially knowing the kind of stuff you’re teaching. And all of the feminine shit you wear to class. Kelly said you didn’t used to dress that way before you got married. When photos start mysteriously appearing on social media and in people’s inboxes around campus, it’s basically just going to confirm everybody’s suspicions about you. But I’m sure people will be surprised by the extent of it. Of your submission, I mean. Why don’t you take a look at some of the candid shots of you I have on my phone. Don’t worry, I keep them in a password protected secret photo vault.” He smirked at me.
After punching in a code, he handed me his phone and directed me to scroll through the pictures with my finger. There were at least a dozen shots, each more humiliating and high resolution than the one before it. A crystal clear shot of me kneeling before Neil in my white tights and page boy haircut, buffing his boots. The same scene from two additional angles, one in which Neil’s face was plainly visible, a self satisfied smile on his face. Another one showed him kissing Laura as I worked. Clear individual shots of me cleaning and buffing the shoes of Paul, Anna, Kelly and Jake. Another of me cleaning Luke’s boots (taken later, obviously with the phone camera’s zoom lens, as it was a little pixelated). Shots of me in the pillory, both from the front and back. The rear shot showed my tights-clad ass fully exposed, and the sign inviting people to punish me with the tawse (also evident). Another shot of me in the jousting stadium, standing, with my erection tenting out my tights; I was trying to turn away, but both my face and erection were clearly visible. Much to my surprise, there were also a few shots of me in the pink speedo cleaning Luke’s truck. One was of me on my knees, scrubbing a hubcap with a toothbrush. There was another shot of me from behind, scrubbing the fender with a sponge, and a third one of me staring directly at the camera, my belly fat protruding from beneath the cuckold horns T-shirt and my erection protruding from beneath the pink spandex. These must’ve been taken by Kelly’s boyfriend, Jake, because I had really been focusing most of my attention on her. I suppose that stumbling upon me that day in such a compromising position was just too remarkable to let go by undocumented. Still, I had no idea when he could’ve possibly taken them. The same was true of the photos from the Ren fair. I was so humiliated on both of these occasions that I must not have been very observant, I suppose. Now, however, seeing these pictures for the first time in the bar, I was absolutely gobsmacked.
“Oh, god,” I groaned.
“I told you these iPhone cameras have gotten really good. Now let me show you some of the videos we took.”
This was unbelievable. More of the same. Several short videos of me, both from the day I cleaned the truck and at the Ren fair. Vigorously buffing boots, walking submissively behind Luke, Brooke, Neil, and Laura, carrying the heavy bag. Video with clear audio of me addressing Kelly and Anna as “my lady” and Paul as “my lord.” Jake, once again, must have been responsible for most the filming and picture taking, as I focused the least on him. I was flabbergasted.
“But you can’t post these on social media or show them to anyone. That’s illegal.”
“I hate to break it to you, professor, but I’m a real wizard when it comes to technology. I get the feeling you might not be, am I right? My older brother is a computer scientist, and a first rate hacker. I usually don’t need any help, but when I do, he’s always happy to provide some expert advice. Such as in how to flawlessly cover my tracks when I post something or send something. No one would ever know the source, I can promise you that. I wonder how Professor Bevins would feel about his newly tenured professor shining the boots of another one of his professors? Would be a great lead story for the campus newspaper, wouldn’t it? Notice that I’m using the conditional tense here. Whether anybody sees these or not is entirely up to you.”
“What is it you want from me in exchange for not showing them to anyone?”
“Are you sure you don’t want that drink now, Rollins? I’ll even buy it for you, just this one time.”
“I’ll have a Jamison’s, on the rocks, please. Thank you.”
“Try, ‘Thank you, sir.’”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That’s more like it.” I felt my heart beating rapidly and my face sweating.
Paul had me. When I had entered the bar, I believed I had a couple of different lines of defense. He had efficiently circumvented or demolished them. I tried think of a medieval battle – perhaps the Battle of Hastings – that was analogous, but what really came to mind was the ineffectiveness of the Maginot Line in protecting France against Hitler’s army. Paul easily outflanked me, and his occupation was about to begin.
When he got back to the table and handed me the drink, he said, “I got you a double.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So, we’ve only got about an hour left and have a lot to cover. How old are you?”
“I’m 39.”
“Don’t forget the ‘sir’ next time. That’s good. You’re almost twice as old as I am. You’re old enough to be my father. Anna and I have always wanted to dominate an older guy like you. How old is Brooke and Luke?”
“Brooke is 28. Luke is 27, I think. Sir.”
“Now, I need you to tell me about your schedule, in great detail. I need to know about your work schedule and your home schedule. I need to fully understand your obligations, your time commitments, so that we can work around them. I don’t intend to be unreasonable here, Rollins. I know you have a job, obviously. And, like I said, I know you have other masters to serve. Given that you’re married to one of them, I recognize they will be your primary obligation.”
That was something at least, I thought. At the same time, I must confess that when Paul uttered the words “dominate an older guy like you,” my cock swelled instantly in its prison. Instantly and painfully.
Paul took careful notes about my work schedule, my routine at home and at Luke’s house, and other obligations such as cheerleading at Luke’s football games and even the status of and deadlines regarding the publication of my next book. He was amused when I shared more details about the subject matter.
“Anna and I are going to help you with your research. You won’t be a submissive cuckold with us, technically. But it will be a very similar dynamic. We should get a percentage of your royalties.” He laughed. “Not that I imagine it will make any best seller lists.”
Why was everybody so obsessed with helping me do first-hand research, I wondered. So unnecessary.
Once he got a thorough download on my time commitments, he said, “I will give this further thought, but based on what you told me, you should have time to clean our condo and do our laundry once a week. You should plan on about two hours. You should also plan on preparing and serving us dinner once a month. Those evenings will require at least a four hour commitment. You’ll have to figure out a way to make that work. I realize some things will be out of your control, and that you might have to occasionally cancel. But then I will expect you to make it up to me the following month. I will also require you to provide sporadic services for me, and for Anna, when things come up. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you have any sabbaticals planned?”
“Yes, sir. I’m off the next Fall semester, actually. I thought I could use the time to finish my book, if necessary.”
“Well, you should have lots more time to devote to Anna and me when you’re on sabbatical. I will expect at least twice the amount of time as this semester. I strongly suggest you finish your book in the spring, or over the summer at the latest.”
“Yes, sir. I will try.”
“Do Luke and Brooke keep you caged all the time?”
“How did you know about that? Sir.”
“Depending upon what you wear to class, it’s pretty obvious sometimes.”
“Oh, I see…sir.” How humiliating! If it was obvious to him, then to whom else? Hopefully, it was obvious only because he was looking there for something…
“So, answer my question. Are you caged all of the time?”
“Not all of the time, sir. As you could tell from the Ren fair.” I looked down, ashamed, and took a big swig of my drink. “But, most of the time, yes.”
“Too bad. Anna and I like to control the cocks of our betas. At least the ones with cocks. I’ll have to give some thought to what can be done about that. Who is your keyholder?”
“Luke, mainly. But also Brooke. How many betas do you have, sir?”
“Presently, we have three slaves in our stable, one cis male, one cis female and one transgender biological male who is starting hormone therapy and will be transitioning. You will be our fourth. Tell me more about Luke. How old is he? What does he do for a living? What are his interests? What’s he like? I want to know everything about him.”
I was simply stunned by what Paul had just told me. This twenty year-old college kid and his girlfriend (presumably the same age, if not younger) had already accumulated a stable of submissives. Of different genders, no less. I was merely to augment their collection. I was certainly curious about the others, however. That curiosity would be satisfied before too long.
I went on to tell him everything he wanted to know about Luke and Brooke, and their relationship with one another. He was clearly intrigued by the fact that Brooke was so dominant with me, and yet so submissive with Luke. However, he was also intrigued by the terms of their agreement with one another, and took note that the appeal of it to Brooke was that she had an escape hatch she could use if she ever chose to do so.
Paul was quite interested to learn that Luke owned a large house with an enormous pool.
“Is he a swimmer?“
“I’ve only seen him in the pool a couple of times, because he only first… started staying at our house early last summer. I think he plans for us to spend a lot more time at his house next summer. He ikes to swim, but is not a swimmer per se. As I explained, his sports are football and weightlifting, sir.”
“Still, with a pool that big he must like to swim a lot. I’m on the college swim team. It’s probably an area where I can connect with him. Besides, I would love to swim in his pool.“
Oh great, I thought to myself. Someone else to bond with Luke over sports and swimming. Maybe Luke, Neil and Paul could form their own little swim team and I could be their pool boy. When not serving cocktails poolside to Brooke, Laura and Anna. In retrospect, I can’t really say be careful what you wish for, in this instance — as I wouldn’t describe these thoughts as wishes, exactly — but I guess I can say be careful what you joke about, or what you imagine. Because my thoughts weren’t far off from what eventually transpired.
“How do you dress at home?”, he asked next. When I hesitated in responding, he said, “Look, like I said before, I’m eventually going to find out the truth. Likely from Luke or Brooke directly. And there will be holy hell to pay if I find out you were anything short of 100% truthful with me. A hundred percent, which means not holding back anything either. You will learn that I’m highly detailed oriented, and I don’t forget shit. So watch yourself, Rollins. I’ll ask you again. How are you required to dress at home?”
“Sometimes I’m allowed to wear shorts or jeans, but usually yoga pants. The tight, spandex kind. Always with panties underneath or tights with the jeans. Most of the time at home, I just wear tights or panties. Sometimes thigh high stockings. Usually with a T-shirt, or no shirt during the summer.”
“Are you fully shaved? I notice you have no hair on your arms.”
“Yes, sir. Fully.”
“Waxing or depilatory cream?”
“Waxing, sir. A full body wax every month.”
“Good. It looks, and smells, better than the cream. Bras?”
“No, sir.”
“Maid uniforms?”
“No, but..”
“But what?”
“But there has been talk of me wearing them once I lose more weight.”
“I’ve noticed that you’ve lost quite a bit of weight since the semester started. They have you on a diet?“
“Yes, sir.” This led to a whole new line of interrogation regarding the specifics of my diet, the weigh-ins, and Luke’s punishment and reward system. It also led to a detailed account of my exercise regimen with Luke.
“So, you have workout tights, punishment tights, and just tights to wear around the house. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.“
“It sounds like a lot of tights. Different colors, I imagine?”
“Yes, sir. A lot of them. Different colors and patterns. Brooke picks them out and orders them online, along with my panties.“
“How does Luke discipline you?”
“Usually, corporal punishment, sir.”
“How? What implements?”
“It depends on his mood, sir. Sometimes a strap or a riding crop. Sometimes his belt, or his bare hand.”
“He doesn’t cane you?”
“Yes, sir. Sometimes he does. When he’s particularly angry.”
“What did I say about not holding details back? Is there anything else you’re holding back in terms of punishment?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Not in terms of corporal punishment, sir. No.”
“Where does he hit you? Always on your ass?”
“Usually, sir. But sometimes on my back and upper thighs. Sometimes he…”
“Sometimes he does what? Spit it out.”
“Sometimes he punishes my cock and balls, with a wooden spoon.”
“Interesting. Anywhere else? Bastinado?”
“No, sir.”
“That offers some interesting possibilities. I imagine you are usually pretty marked up on your ass. I will need to find some ways of disciplining you that don’t leave marks that are too obvious. The bastinado could be one good option. It will be a challenge to think of others, but I enjoy a good challenge. What other types of punishment?”
“Holding stress positions, especially after corporal punishment.”
“You mean, standing in the corner, holding a book on your head, or a penny against the wall with your nose. That sort of thing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What else?
“Sometimes withholding dinner. Punishment exercises. Chores of various kinds. Like washing his truck, raking leaves in his yard. Those types of things.”
“Sounds fairly routine. What kind of personal services does he make you provide? Do you suck him off?”
“Sometimes, sir. Usually only to fluff him, but a couple of times he has…ejaculated onto my face.”
“Ever swallow?”
“No, sir. Not yet, at least.”
“What else? Does he make you clean his cock after sex?”
“Yes, sir, sometimes.”
“With your mouth or with a towel?”
“Both, sir.”
“How big is he?”
“Very big, sir. Brooke measured us once. He’s 7.4 inches long when fully erect with a circumference of 5.5 inches.”
“Impressive. Bigger than I am, but I punch well above my weight, as you’ll find out soon enough. Does he make you clean his creampies out of your wife?”
“Sometimes, sir.“
“What about their feet? Do they make you worship and/or care for their feet?”
“Yes, sir. Both.”
“Frequently? I want details.”
“Yes, sir. Very frequently. I have always spent a lot of time worshiping and massaging Brooke’s feet, and she insisted that I learn how to give her pedicures. I regularly do that for…him now too.”
“Interesting. What else does he make you do with his feet?”
“Massage them. Kiss them. Sort of tongue bathe them. Suck his toes, sometimes. Sometimes…”
“Sometimes, what?”, he asked impatiently, obviously growing tired of my periodic reticence.
“Sometimes he makes me compose and recite poetry, honoring his feet. And other aspects of him. I do that for Brooke’s feet, too.”
“That’s one I haven’t heard before. That’s a trip.”
“Sir, it’s 7:25. I’ll be in trouble, if I’m late.”
“Very well. We’ve covered quite a lot of ground today, haven’t we, professor?”
“Yes, sir. Sir, if I do everything you ask of me…”
“Command, you mean. I’m not asking you to do anything.”
“Yes, sir. If I do everything that you command me to do, you will erase the photos and videos and not tell anyone?”
“If you do everything I command you to do, they will not be made public. You have my word.”
“But, you won’t delete them, sir?”
“Why would I want to do that? Then I would lose my leverage over you.“
“But if you don’t delete them, my… position of powerlessness…may never end.”
“Yes, in theory, your position of servitude to me, and to Anna, may never end. But it likely will. I’m sure we’ll grow tired of you at some point. New and more entertaining, and better looking, submissives will undoubtedly come along. Even then, it will still be unlikely that I’ll delete all of the photos and videos. You just never know what’s gonna happen, right?”
“I guess so, sir.”
Paul casually knocked his pen off the table and it fell down onto the floor.
“Pick up my pen for me. When you’re down there, kiss my sneaker to memorialize our new relationship. I better feel your lips through the mesh.”
“Here, sir? In a bar?”
“There’s almost no one around. And you’re getting onto your hands and knees to look for something you dropped. No one is going to see what you’re doing down there. But I better feel it.”
“Yes, sir.” I got down onto my hands and knees and put my head under the table. I picked up the pen and kissed his sneaker. I felt the mesh material against my lips and pressed down harder into his foot to make sure he felt it.
I then stood up, glancing around furtively to see if I had been observed. It didn’t appear so. I looked at Paul, who smiled smugly at me.
“You better run along now. You’re going to be one very busy male masochist, Rollins.”
Looking at my watch, I thought to myself that if I caught all the lights, I probably would only be about five minutes late or so. I hoped that Luke would be in a fairly good mood that night.
Driving home, I reflected on my meeting with Paul Betz. It was incredibly humiliating to have to provide such a detailed account of the punishments and humiliations I endured at the hands of one man to another man planning his own unique dominion over me. My student, no less. I didn’t even have time to discuss with him the ethical issues of inflating his, Kelly’s and Anna‘s grades. Well, I was sure we would have the opportunity to discuss that sometime in the future, I thought to myself, as I ran a red light in my rush to get home.
I was going to be very busy, indeed.

In late October, in the midst of a protracted Indian summer, Luke and Brooke decided they wanted to go to a large Renaissance fair that was being held about an hour or so drive from our house. I had never attended one before, assuming them to be cheesy and historically inaccurate. From what I had heard of them, I envisioned lots of screaming kids, bad food (huge turkey legs and curly fries came to mind) and cheap trinket sellers. It also sounded to me that much of the costumes, and even activities, were more medieval than Renaissance, so calling them Renaissance fairs offended the historian in me. Brooke, for the most part, agreed with me, although she had expressed some curiosity in seeing what really went on at these events (if I’m really honest with myself, although I spoke dismissively and disparagingly of them, I had a little curiosity myself – medieval was my time period, after all). However, she shared my dread of screaming kids running around everywhere.
No doubt picking up on this reservation among a certain segment of their target audience, the organizers of this particular event had set it up as an “adult only” Ren fair. This was evident from the event’s advertising. While my understanding was that most of these festivals serve alcohol, this one was actually sponsored by several beer and liquor companies. In addition, the advertising emphasized the sexual appeal of such an event, showing images of buxom young women in bodices and attractive young men dressed as pirates and knights. There was even a suggestion of kink in the advertising, with one photo of a pretty young woman in a corset, her hands bound, standing next to a young man wearing a tight, red velvet jacket and shiny black boots, wielding a riding crop. She had a damsel in distress expression on her face, whereas he had a sinister gleam in his eyes. I later learned that there is a whole BDSM subculture that loves Ren fairs, seeing them as places to act out their fantasies in a period setting.
I believe it was this kinky twist in particular that got the attention of Luke and Brooke, although Luke had apparently attended a few more conventional Ren fairs in the past and enjoyed them. This fair took place only a couple of weeks after the dinner party, but Neil and Laura were already something of an item by this point, having been on four or five dates. They were invited to join us. Simply hearing that, I tried to bow out, hoping to avoid the humiliation of being the fifth wheel in the group. Luke was quite insistent that I come, however. I’m sure he knew that such an event would be replete with opportunities to publicly humiliate me in creative ways. Looking back, I have no doubt that the event exceeded his expectations in that respect. It turned out that being the fifth wheel should’ve been the least of my worries.
Let me start by describing what was usually a focal point of humiliation for me: my attire. The other four ordered their costumes on an on-line retailer called Medieval Collectibles. Luke dressed as a Dark Prince, Brooke as (Magenta) Lady Guinevere, Neil as Rugged Robin Hood, and Laura as Lady Robin Hood (quite ridiculous, really). Not finding anything sufficiently humiliating for me on the website, my costume was a custom one concocted by Brooke (with Luke’s approval, of course). The inspiration for it was a pre-Raphaelite painting, The Little Foot Page, by Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale. The painting was based on Childe Waters, an 18th century Scottish folk ballad by Thomas Percy that told the tragic story of a young woman named Ellen, whose cruel lover forces her to dress as page boy, and follow him around on foot while he rides on a horse. After she eventually bears him a child, her lover finally acknowledges her existence and marries her. I had shared the story with Brooke shortly after we were married, and she was quite fond of the painting.
I was dressed much like Ellen, in white tights, canvas shoes almost like slippers that came up to my ankles, and a lacy, almost see-through, long sleeved, black jacket, or doublet, that barely covered my bottom—and, worse still, barely covered my crotch. Also like Ellen, I wore a gold metal belt holding a fake knife. The jacket was Brooke’s, and was remarkably similar to the one in the painting. It was too big for her, so fit me, although somewhat snugly. When I first heard that I would not be required to wear my chastity cage, I was, of course, greatly relieved, because the bulk of the cage would’ve been very apparent beneath the tights (and I was always grateful for increasingly rare moments of liberation from my tiny metal prison). What did not immediately occur to me, however, was that I would have a constant erection in the tights, barely concealed by the front of the short jacket or doublet. This complication should’ve been apparent to me immediately, of course, because I frequently wear tights around the house and the feeling of the nylon against my cock invariably (and instantly) causes me to get, and stay, hard. However, it’s funny how the relief of being spared one type of humiliation can cloud your mind in such a way to leave you vulnerable to other types (not that I had any choice in the matter).
All part of the plight of a fairy cuck, as Luke was fond of calling me, I suppose. In fact, Luke had originally wanted me to dress as a fairy for the Ren festival, complete with pointed ears, tights and wings. Brooke was able to convince him that princes have pages, however, thereby mitigating my humiliation. Or that was her intent, at least. I’m not sure it worked out that way.
I did have to admit that there was something suitable about how I was dressed. It occurred to me that, like the little foot page Ellen, I was submitting myself to humiliation for the one I loved. In medieval times, a page was a young male servant to a knight, nobleman, or prince. So, it also occurred to me that, given the time I spent attending to (or worshipping) Luke’s feet, “foot page” was not an inappropriate designation for me. Pages were usually, of course, boys or very young men; the fact that I was a decade older than my master only added to my humiliation.
In addition to my attire, my hair had been growing out for the last several months (at Luke and Brooke’s direction), and Brooke asked her hairstylist to give me a page boy haircut two days before the fair. Whereas a slender teenage boy or young man might’ve been able to pull it off, I felt it looked ridiculous on me; Brooke assured me I look “cute,” but the expression on her face and her stifled laugh when she first saw me after my haircut, convinced me otherwise.
When we met Neil and Laura in the parking lot of the fairgrounds, they both smiled and laughed when they saw me.
“I’m glad to see you’re getting into the spirit of things, Walter. I’m actually surprised you came,” said Neil.
“I’m here under duress. I bet it’s going to be completely inauthentic and tacky.” Luke was out of earshot at the moment, searching for something in the back of his truck, so I felt free to express my real opinion, albeit fleetingly.
“Who cares whether it’s authentic or not? I told Walter that he needs to lighten up,” said Brooke.
“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not wearing this ridiculous outfit,” I said, sulkily.
Laura said, “I think it’s a great costume. I love the tights. But what are you supposed to be, exactly?”
“A page,” I mumbled.
Brooke said, “The little foot page, to be precise.” She then told Neil and Laura the story of the ballad and about the painting, and googled an image of the latter on her iPhone to show them. As they scrutinized my costume, I tried to will myself to become flaccid. I tried to think of the least sexy thing I could (doing my taxes), but it was futile. The humiliation of the moment, the feeling of the nylon against the sensitive underside of my cock, the anxiety about what else lay in store for me that day…all of these things conspired against me. So, rather than subside, I felt my cock further stiffen. I then tried to turn the front of my body subtly away from them. Still more futility, as I felt Brooke cup my right buttock with her hand, and my cock grew harder still.
Neil laughed and said, “You’re the spitting image of Ellen! Your costume, I mean.”
Laura fingered the sleeve of my gossamer jacket, and said to Brooke, “This is beautiful. Where did you find it?”
“It’s mine, actually. I think I bought it at a thrift store in Columbus a few years back. Walter’s lost another 4 pounds since you last saw him, so it fits him pretty well. His buns are getting firmer too, thanks to Luke’s personal training sessions with him.” She squeezed my buttock with her hand and pinched it.
Laura said, “I bet those are interesting.” She and Brooke exchanged smiles.
Neil said, “Nice work with the diet, pal.”
“I bet he’s sitting easier than he was the last time we saw him,” said Laura. The three of them chuckled.
Meanwhile, Luke had walked up, carrying a large leather bag. He warmly shook Neil’s hand and patted him on the back. “Great to see you, Robin Hood and Mrs. Robin Hood. I thought Robin Hood always wore tights?”
“I picked the Rugged Robin Hood option. Tights are not really my thing,” said Neil.
“Mine either. Not very manly, are they? I see you’re wearing black jeans, like me.”
“Yes, but what’s that hanging from your belt?”
“It’s a Scottish tawse. I ordered it on Amazon. It’s for keeping servants in line. No prince should ever be without one. Come on, let’s go,” Luke said, heading towards the entrance to the fair. To me: “Prof, I want you to walk a couple of steps behind us, and carry this bag. You’re my page today, don’t forget.“
“Foot page, you mean,” giggled Laura.
“Yes, sir,” I said, lifting the bag to see how heavy it was. It wasn’t too bad, but I was sure it would become increasingly challenging to carry as the day went on, especially given how unseasonably warm it was.
“Given the occasion, I think ‘sire’ would be more appropriate than ‘sir’ today,” said Luke.
“Or he could refer to you as ‘my lord’ or ‘my liege’,” volunteered Neil, unhelpfully.
”Call me sire, call Brooke and Laura my lady, and call Neil my lord. Got it, page?”, Luke said to me firmly.
“Yes, sire.”
As I walked behind them, I was hyper conscious of my attire, and how it must’ve appeared to other attendees of the fair to see me dressed the way I was, walking submissively behind the two couples. And while there were plenty of other men dressed in tights walking around, most of them were wearing long tunics that completely covered their rear ends and crotches. I imagined that everyone we passed was staring directly at my crotch, and I whenever I looked down, I saw my erection tenting out the white material, only partly obscured by my doublet. My only consolation was that these tights were not sheer (like most of the tights I wore at home), but were more opaque, like the ones worn by Ellen in the painting. Brooke had ordered them specifically for the occasion.
We did see several overtly BDSM types in the crowd, including a couple of threesomes that appeared to have a cuckolding dynamic. For example, there was an attractive young man and woman, dressed in goth clothing — they looked more like vampires than characters out of either the medieval or Renaissance eras, (although I guess vampires are timeless) — pulling along a male of similar age by a leash. Like the couple, the male was dressed solely in black except for his pink collar. He wore black lipstick, a corset, a skirt and fishnet stockings with Doc Martens boots. He had long hair and was slender and effeminate enough to be able to pull off the look; still, it must’ve been incredibly humiliating.
There was also a tall, overweight male dressed like a dungeon master, a coiled bullwhip attached to his belt, walking with a petite young woman, probably half his age, in a bodice and skimpy period dress. She was gagged, with her arms tied in front of her, looking very unsure that she wanted to be there.
The man addressed Luke loudly, “I caught this serving wench prostituting herself. I’m taking her to the pillory to be shamed in public, as befits her. What of thy servant?”, he said, pointing to me. “Has he spent time in the stocks yet?”
“Not yet, but we may see you there later.”
“Nothing like some public shaming to teach thy chattel their place. And some discipline,” he said, fingering his whip. “But I see thou hath that covered. Be that a tawse?”
“It be, indeed,” replied Luke, much to the amusement of Brooke, Neil and Laura.
“May I?,” said the man as he started to reach for Luke’s tawse.
“Be my guest,” said Luke.
Rubbing his hands along the length of the tawse, the man said, ”Tis of fine leather, and should deliver a goodly sting.”
I thought to myself, I wonder if the sting could possibly be any more painful than having to listen to this man butcher medieval dialect. Unfortunately, I was soon to learn that the answer to my rhetorical question was an emphatic yes.
Following that encounter, we watched a (lame) magician show and then watched a blacksmith work in his shop. Brooke mentioned that she wanted to see a jousting contest that was scheduled for 2 PM. First, they decided to have lunch. It came a little surprise to me that Luke, Brooke and Laura did indeed order huge turkey legs, whereas Neil had a pork chop on a stick. Luke and Neil ordered enormous glasses of beer while Brooke and Laura drank mead wine. I, meanwhile, ate the dressing free salad and drank the bottle of water Brooke had ordered me.
When I protested that I was still hungry afterwards, Brooke said, “But you’ve been doing so well on your diet. Let’s not break the momentum.”
Neil added, “I know it’s tough, Walter, but you’re making incredible progress. You’ve got to stick with it though. We’ll all help you.”
“But I only had a little bit of yogurt for breakfast,” I protested meekly.
It was incredibly humiliating to be treated like a child with respect to my diet. It was bad enough to be treated that way by Luke and Brooke, but when the others chimed in, it became doubly humiliating. Neil had been on me to lose weight for years. He was one of those slender, athletic people who had never had a weight problem in their lives, who was of the vocal belief that losing and gaining weight is simply a matter of willpower and discipline, or the lack thereof. It’s not that he fat shamed people, but he certainly made frequent comments about the American public being too obese and sedentary, and how that was one of the major reasons why our healthcare costs were so out of control. From a policy perspective, he probably had a point. But it was no less annoying to listen to him chide me for my weight struggles. He clearly approved of the strict diet and exercise regimen that Luke was imposing upon me. “No pain, no gain,” he told me once later after witnessing Luke cane me after I gained two pounds at a weigh-in. But I’m jumping ahead of my story. The point is that I believe Neil truly did (and does) care about my health, but he believes that the end justifies the means, and found Luke’s results hard to argue with. My friend Neil turned out to have a healthy, if largely benign, authoritarian streak in him that surprised me, but again I’m jumping ahead of myself.
“I’ve heard enough. Stop bitching. Since when do pages question their lords and ladies? You must really want to try out this tawse,” Luke snapped at me.
“No, sire. I apologize. I want nothing more than to adhere to my diet.”
“That’s better,” he replied.
It had rained heavily a couple of days earlier, so the ground was quite muddy in spots. We sat down on the stadium stands about a half an hour before the tournament was to begin. I sat on the step below the two couples.
Luke said, “Look how filthy our boots are from the mud! Fortunately, I brought along some rags and shoe polish in the bag. Page, clean our shoes. Start with the ladies.”
Neil said, “Good thing you thought to bring some rags along. You always seem to be thinking ahead. It’s probably one of the reasons why you’re so successful in business.”
I had heard Luke bragging to Neil about the exponential growth of his plumbing business while we were walking around the fairgrounds. Still, hearing him praise Luke in this way, especially when it was directly tied to another humiliation for me, was quite disappointing, to say the least.
I got the rags and shoe polish out of the bag and began cleaning and buffing Laura’s ankle boots first.
She laughed and said to Neil, “Baby, we might have to get ourselves one of these.”
“A shoeshine kit?”, asked Neil.
“No, I mean our own little manservant.” Fortunately, Neil did not take the bait. At least not then.
I next moved on to Brooke, who was also wearing ankle boots. The ladies’ boots were nowhere nearly as filthy as the men’s, so I was able to finish cleaning Brooke’s shoes pretty quickly.
Meanwhile, as I began cleaning Neil’s long boots, I became aware of something much more distressing that was unfolding. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed sitting down about 10 feet away from us to the right, four people that I knew. Not just any people, but my student Kelly and her boyfriend (the ones who had found me cleaning Luke’s truck in my pink speedo) along with two other students from my class, Paul Betz (the one who humiliated me on opening day by asking me what my qualifications were for teaching a class on male masochism) and another girl named Anna Dawson. It had appeared to me that Mr. Betz and Miss Dawson were dating one another, as they were always seated next to each other in class, and often touching one another affectionately.
I really had thought the chances of anyone from the college attending this festival to be very low, in part because it was a good hour drive away. In retrospect, I realize that was a very foolish assumption on my part. An hour’s drive is nothing, and I should’ve guessed that an event such as this Ren fair would hold some attraction to students of medieval literature. Once I thought about it, critically and objectively, I had to admit that it would almost have been shocking if none of my students had come. I guess I was simply guilty of wishful thinking (my critical thinking abilities seemed to have been in a steady state of decline since Luke’s takeover had begun).
I tried my best to turn my face away from my students as I began cleaning Neil‘s boots. The problem, of course, was that Neil was facing them directly, and even if they had not attended his classes, they would still recognize him, as our English department was not a large one. I was soon to learn, however, that Kelly and Paul Betz had both taken Neil’s D.H. Lawrence and Joseph Conrad lecture during their sophomore year.
“Thanks, pal. But you missed a scuff mark on the side. Just use a little more polish there,” Neil said to me, pointing to the spot in question.
Luke said, “There’s no need to thank the page. I know you like to steal from the rich and give to the poor, but a servant is a servant.“
“I guess you have a good point there, prince,” Neil said, laughing, as I applied polish to the place he had pointed out and began buffing vigorously. I was very conscious of the fact that, from my position on my knees, my tights-clad bottom would be partially visible to anyone looking.
Just then, I heard Kelly’s voice. “Hi, Professor Lawson.”
“Hi, Kelly,” replied Neil.
“You remember Paul Betz, don’t you? We both took your Lawrence and Conrad class together last year.”
“Of course, I do. You were both excellent students. Hi, Paul.”
“Hey, Professor,” Paul answered. Their voices were getting closer. They were walking towards us, and I was in a state of panic. They were about to witness one of their professors cleaning the boots of another one of their professors (utenured, no less!) while dressed in a uniquely humiliating manner. What would they possibly think? What could I possibly do? I wanted to simply disappear.
The next thing I knew Kelly was standing directly above me, as I continued to buff, hoping somehow that my efforts would somehow obscure me from notice.
“Oh, hi Professor Rollins. I certainly didn’t expect to see you here,” Kelly said. I heard Paul Betz laugh out loud and Anna giggle. All four of them (Kelly’s boyfriend included) had walked over to us.
Trying my best to think on my feet (or my knees, I should say), I replied, “Hello, Kelly. Mr. Betz, Miss Dawson, sir. Yes, I’ve never been to one of these festivals before, but my wife and my friends here talked me into it.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean see you at the fair. Although that is a little surprising. I meant that I didn’t expect to see you shining the boots of Professor Lawson.” Kelly giggled.
Brooke said, “Walter is a page, you see? I’m Mrs. Rollins.”
Kelly replied, “Very nice to meet you. My name is Kelly Blythe.” She shook Brooke’s hand. “Your husband is one of my favorite professors. Well, actually, both your husband and Professor Lawson are two of my favorites. I’ve seen you around town with your family friend here.“ Kelly smiled at Luke.
Luke extended his head to Kelly and said, “Luke Hanover. Nice to meet you.” Luke then shook Paul’s, Anna’s and Kelly’s boyfriend’s hands as well.
I said, “Yes, I drew the short end of the stick today and am the page. I’m trying to get into the spirit of the day. Ha ha.”
“I thought you might’ve made another one of those foolish bets, professor.” She laughed. “But I can see that you put a lot of thought and effort into your costume. You even have a pageboy haircut.”
Brooke said, trying her best to rescue me, “Walter doesn’t go into things half measure. Once we convinced him to come to the fair, he wanted to look, and act, as realistic as possible.”
“Well, you’ve certainly succeeded, Professor Rollins. You really do look the part of a page. Although your jacket might be a little short,” said Kelly. I reflexively covered my bottom with one of my hands, and Anna snickered.
Kelly then said, “The show’s about to start, so we better go back to our seats.”
“Nice to meet you all,” said Luke.
Paul said, “Same here. You know, our shoes are filthy, too. I don’t suppose there’s any way that we could borrow your page to clean them for us, is there?”
Brooke said, “No, I don’t think…”
Luke interrupted her. “Now, Brooke, you may be Lady Guinevere, but remember, Walter is my page, so it’s up to me to decide if I want to offer his services to anyone. This tournament isn’t too crowded, so after he finishes with Neil’s boots, he can go over and clean the four of your shoes. There should be plenty of room for him to work. He can do mine later.”
“Why that’s very generous of you, Luke,” said Paul.
“Don’t mention it. Make sure he calls you ‘my lord’ and ‘my lady’ while he cleans your shoes. The prof is a big stickler for things being authentic, so we want to make sure he stays true to his beliefs, right? Let me know if there are any issues.” Luke moved his hand up and down the tawse, as he spoke.
“You seem like a really good family friend, Luke,“ said Kelly. Even Brooke had to giggle at that (along with Neil and Laura).
So, that is how I came to endure the maximum humiliation — or at least what I perceived to be maximum at the time (it’s amazing how relative things are) — of cleaning and polishing the shoes of Kelly, her boyfriend, the thoroughly obnoxious Mr. Betz and his girlfriend, Anna. How could a professor possibly ever recover any sense of dignity or authority after kneeling at the feet of three of his students and cleaning and polishing their shoes? Kelly and Anna were highly amused while I worked beneath them, smiling and giggling. Paul, on the other hand, regarded me with a supremely smug expression while I cleaned his incredibly muddy boots. I tried to tell myself that this was merely some elaborate cosplay, a playfulness in the spirit of the day that would have no bearing on reality tomorrow and thereafter. But I knew that wasn’t true.
As I worked, Paul said to me, “I guess I owe you an apology, professor, for questioning your knowledge of the subject matter of male masochism. You’re obviously a true expert. Wipe the dried mud from the bottom of my boot as well.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Anna said, “I can’t believe this. This is a trip.” She then kissed Paul fervently.
When I had finished, I said to them, “My lords and ladies. I appreciate the opportunity to have been of service to you. Can I assume that what happens at the Ren fair, stays at the Ren fair? I would be ever so grateful to you—truly, humbly grateful—if you could keep this between us, and not say anything to your classmates, or to other professors. Or anyone, for that matter.” I was still on my knees, in the position of supplicant, as I made this request.
“Of course, Professor Rollins, we’re all just having a bit of fun is all.”
“Thank you, Kelly.”
“Kelly?,” said her boyfriend.
“I’m so sorry, my lord. I meant to say, thank you, my lady.”
“You are welcome, page,” Kelly giggled.
I was so disoriented by the surreal nature of what was happening, so consumed by my request that they keep things quiet, that I completely forgot to try to prevent them from seeing my erection. I didn’t realize this until I stood up to return to where Brooke, Luke, Neil and Laura were sitting. As I stood and looked into their astonished, mirthful faces, I realized in horror that the four of them were staring directly at the tent in my hose. Because I was standing on the step below them, my crotch was directly at their eye level.
Covering her grinning mouth with one hand, Anna pointed at my crotch with the other and said, snickering, “Don’t worry, professor, that will stay between us too.“
I hung my head in shame and said, “Thank you, my lords and ladies,” as I hurried back to my section of the stadium. I heard them cracking up behind me, and was fairly sure I heard Kelly say “so tiny” amidst their laughter.
If nothing else, I was confident that my humiliation that day had reached its apotheosis. It so happened that my confidence was misplaced, as usual.
In the late afternoon, as the sun was beginning to set, we wandered over to the public square, me carrying the heavy bag behind the others, growing increasingly weary and sweaty. In the middle of the square were positioned three pillories. One was empty, but there was an attractive (attractive face, at least, as it was difficult for me to see her body, from her position or mine) middle aged woman, probably in her mid to late forties, in the center pillory. Luke placed me in the one next to her. Because this festival was an adult affair, I suppose, it was possible to lock the pillories, as I discovered when I was unable to escape as Luke walked the other way to join the others sitting on a hill nearby. He had hung the tawse on a rope from a hook on the pillory. The rope had plenty of slack, so it could be used and rehung without untying it. Before placing me in the stocks, he had taken from the bag a sign and a string, and put it around my neck, so that the sign would be visible on my back. I later learned that the sign read “I’m an errant page. My master requests that you correct me with the tawse hanging to my right. Thank you.” I did not believe that the word “errant” was in Luke’s vocabulary (although he sometimes surprised me), so had to wonder if Brooke (or worse still, Neil) had helped him in writing it.
After I was there about ten minutes, watching Brooke, Luke, Neil and Laura talking, laughing, and drinking nearby (and watching me, waiting to see what would happen), the woman locked up next to me addressed me. “So, what’s your story?”
“Excuse me, are you talking to me?”
“No, genius, I’m talking to the oak tree. Do you see anyone else here?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve had a really bad day.”
“Tell me about it. Okay, I’ll go first. My name is Claire and I’m a cuckquean. It sounds like I’m in alcoholics anonymous, doesn’t it? Cuckqueans anonymous, I guess. You know what a cuckquean is?”
“Of course, the female equivalent of what I am.”
“I thought so, but I think of you as the male equivalent of what I am. No matter. See that man and woman at that picnic table over there? That’s my husband and his lover. I’m an equity partner in the Cleveland office of a national law firm. She’s my paralegal. She’s also half my age. She gave me ten with her sorority paddle a little while ago. Tomorrow, after she sleeps with my husband all night, I will serve the two of them breakfast in bed, before I go clean her condo in a maid’s uniform. It makes for interesting Monday mornings, I can tell you, as we review her work for the week.”
“I’ll bet.”
“She’s a sexy young thing, I’ll give her that. It makes it easier when she forces me go down on her after my husband fucks her. Not all of my husband’s choices have been as easy on the eyes. Ok, now it’s your turn. Watch out!”
“OUCH!” Someone had struck me brutally on my tights-clad bottom with the damn tawse from behind. It was impossible for me to see anyone approaching or leaving from behind me.
“Sorry, I couldn’t give you more notice. I just caught a glimpse of someone in my peripheral vision reaching for the strap.”
“Wow, that hurt. Thanks for trying. Could you see whether it was a man or a woman?”
“I think it was a man, but I can’t be sure. I think they’re gone now. Probably just some college kids fooling around.” That was precisely what I was afraid of.
“Anyhow, it’s your turn.”
“See those four people sitting on the hill off to your right. The woman on the left is my wife. The guy next to her is her lover. He also happens to be her ex-husband. He’s a plumber. I’m a college professor.”
“Who are the other two?”
“The guy is my friend and fellow professor. The woman is his new girlfriend, my wife’s friend.”
“Interesting. Brace yourself.”
“Ouch!” I heard Laura’s laughter from across the lawn.
“I think that one was a woman. She was dressed as a pirate, I think.”
“It didn’t hurt as much as the first one.”
“Does your bull make you eat his cream pies out of your wife’s vagina, like my husband makes me clean his out of my cake?”
“Yes.”
Just then I saw approaching the last four people I wanted to see: Kelly, her boyfriend, Paul and Anna.
Kelly said, “Hi Professor Rollins. Long time no see.” She waved over at Luke and the others.
“Hi, Miss Kelly. I’m sorry, I mean, my lady.”
“‘Miss Kelly.’ I like that. Well, it’s getting late, we need to be going soon. I’ll see you in class on Monday.”
“Yes, my lady. Good night.”
The four of them moved on, to my great relief. Meanwhile, the young cuckcake, who was dressed as a princess, came over and liberated my neighbor, who promptly lowered herself to the ground and kissed the young woman’s feet. “Thank you, princess.”
“You’re welcome, piglet,” said the young woman. It was true, she was quite sexy.
As she was walking away, the lawyer said to me, “See you around. Good luck. It sounds like you’re going to to need it.”
As if she were prophetic, I felt someone caressing my ass. It felt like a feminine hand.
“Kelly? Anna? Is that you?”
I heard giggling, but no answer. Next I felt hard swat on my right buttock. It felt like the same hand. More feminine giggles.
It was getting dark and things went silent. About ten minutes passed before someone struck me suddenly and viscously with the tawse.
“Ouch! Who is that?”
Another viscous strike.
“Mercy, I beg you.”
I then heard Paul Betz whispering in my ear, “I told you I was a dominant guy, professor. Sometimes the student has to teach the professor. I’m going to help you learn even more about male masochism.” More feminine giggles in the distance. “If you really don’t want anyone to know about what happened today, I’m sure we can work out an arrangement that works for everybody. It’s amazing how good these new iPhone cameras are, isn’t it?”
“But, my lord, you promised.”
Another biting cut of the tawse. it wasn’t as bad as the cane, but it still hurt like hell.
“I didn’t promise anything, professor. That was Kelly who promised, not me. We’ll talk. Good night.”
He struck me again. “Ouch! Good night, my lord.”
After about another 10 minutes or so, Luke released me, and the five of us returned to the parking lot.
After we said goodbye to Neil and Laura, I drove Luke and Brooke home as they kissed passionately in the back seat.
Obviously, my subjugation had entered a new public phase. I was to learn that there was, and is, no going back.

Dad (44 -M4M) looking for a skinny, naturally hairless, boyish twink (18-26 y.o.) who is curious and can travel. Love a skinny, smooth boy in tidy whities, and who wear other v-shaped briefs and speedos. Hairless boy is key, even on ABs and thighs. Live in Fredericksburg and work in Richmond. I have so freaky fetishes, like grinding, kissing, wrestling, gut punching, and other stuff.

Dad (44 -M4M) looking for a skinny, smooth, boyish twink (18-26 y.o.) who is curious and can travel. Love a skinny, smooth boy in tidy whities, and who wear other v-shaped briefs and speedos. Hairless boy is key, even on ABs and thighs. Live in Fredericksburg and work in Richmond. I have so freaky fetishes, like grinding, kissing, wrestling, gut punching, and other stuff.