30-Days of House Arrest Ch. 01

What is wrong with you, John? I wondered in despair.

I watched the boy's masturbating one another then suddenly turned my attention to Mister G's cock sliding back and forth between the boy's clinging lips.

I thought: Oh, what the hell? Then pushed back the bedspread exposing my throbbing prick and masturbated in time with Mister G's thrusts into the boys greedily sucking mouth.

And it happened again...in my minds-eye it became my mouth Mister G was using for his pleasure. It was my lips wrapped around his rigid yet soft cockflesh...it was my tongue lathering his cockhead - lapping up his pre-cum.

I heard Mister G cry-out and watched as he thrust his cock deep inside the boy's mouth and unleashed a torrent of sperm and semen that the boy wildly gulped down his rapidly swallowing throat.

I lost it - I cried out while gobs of cum shot from my prick like cannon volleys - once, twice, three times jets of hot cum blasted from my prick into the air making lewd splashing noises as it fell on my belly and thighs.

Afterwards, I felt alone and depressed. How in the world could I fantasize about sucking a man's cock?

That afternoon when the man came to give Mister G his daily massage, I swam laps in the pool trying as best as I could not to think about what was happening in the massage room.

I didn't want to watch it - I didn't want to even think about it.

Unfortunately, images of the man's hands on Mister G's manly cock filled my head. I became obsessed with Mister G's cock.

You are one sick bastard, I said to myself when I pulled out my hard-on and masturbated while still in the pool.

***

Mister G had commented how wonderful it felt to swim naked, but I would never do that with him around so the next day when I knew he'd be gone for a couple hours I did just that. And yes, it was very invigorating...and sexy too.

As usual, I swam the last lap underwater. When I grasped the end of the pool I came up out of the water gasping for air.

"You're quite the little water nymph, aren't you boy?"

The hair on the back of my neck stood straight. There was no mistaking Mr. Hall's sarcastic voice.

I turned to where I'd left my towel only to hear him ask, "Is this what you're looking for, boy?"

Sure enough, he'd taken it and was holding it twenty-feet away from me.

"Don't be shy, boy, come and get it...you don't have anything I haven't seen a thousand times!"

The man has a real penchant for enjoying the humiliation of others.

I took a deep breath and climbed out of the pool. I covered myself with my hands but Mr. Hall immediately scolded me.

"Your hands clasped together behind your neck, boy, just like when you interviewed for the job!" he ordered.

Only that time I was at least wearing my string, bikini briefs. I took a deep breath, averted my eyes and walked towards him.

"Yeah, just what I figured...what, is your dick about three-inches when you spring a boner?"

I didn't answer him. I simply thought: This man is a disgusting pig!

He tossed me the towel when I was near and I quickly dried myself. I searched for my briefs and slipped into them and hurriedly pulled them up in place.

I was about to put on the sweatpants when he stopped me.

"That's why I'm here, boy, Mister G doesn't much care for your ratty-old sweatpants so you're going to surprise him when he gets home...c'mon, follow me!"

"I had to buy new outfits for the cocktail boy's and I thought of you..."

"B-But I'm still going to be a bartender when I go back to work, right?" I asked him.

"Well, we'll have to see about that...you know, boy, I had to fill your position - I can't go thirty-days shorthanded, can I? Sure, if I have an opening you'll still tend bar for me, okay?"

"Oh...okay," I said but experienced a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

He pointed towards the glass sliding doors and said, "After you boy...I want to watch your cute little butt-cheeks jiggling inside your panties!"

"They're not panties - I buy them in the men's department!" I protested.

He laughed and said, "Whatever, boy!"

I had grown to actually hate the man.

I saw a large bag on the sofa. Mr. Hall dumped out its contents.

I was prepared for the worst but what I saw were simply gym shorts in a variety of colors.

He looked at the labels inside the shorts until he found what he was searching for.

He announced, "Good, here's 'Wednesday'" and threw me the yellow ones.

"Try them on, boy, let's see how they look on you!"

I noticed two things when I pulled them up in place: they were very short, most of my thighs were totally exposed, and they were very tight not only in the butt, but in the crotch as well.

"You look wonderful, boy...you notice how they're different from the old uniforms?" he asked then answered his own question: "Half your ass isn't hanging out like the old ones...that became a problem...the boy's butt-cheeks were constantly black and blue from all the pinching and slapping they were getting!"

Okay, yeah, that part was better but I was still acutely aware of my butt filling out the seat, and knew darn well if I ever get a hard-on wearing these it will be VERY noticeable to all.

He then held up what looked to me to be a jockstrap. I hadn't seen one since my high school gym days.

"Wear one of these underneath...we tried having the boys go 'commando' under the shorts, but too many of them got so turned-on by the feel of the nylon rubbing against their dicks their hard-ons became a distraction while they were trying to work."

He saw my distaste for the jockstrap.

"Now these are optional, boy...sure you can go 'commando' or wear your boy-panties underneath, but as a word of warning, each boy wears the same color uniform every day and should their little hard-ons leak thru the nylon and stain the front of the shorts, they are required to finish their shift wearing those same stained shorts!"

Oh my goodness...

"...and thru trial and error we found pre-cum will leak thru cotton undies faster and stain the nylon material easier than the jockstraps!"

I couldn't believe how casually he was talking about this subject. The man really is a loathsome human being.

"Even around here, boy, to get you ready to go back to work, if your little dick begins leaking and you stain the front of your shorts - I will let Mister G know you are REQUIRED to wear them the entire day!"

Oh my goodness...

"I know what you're thinking, boy...if you parade around here wearing just the shorts - oh right, I forgot to mention - the cocktail boys no longer wear tops with their uniforms and I expect you to do the same here...anyway, I can assure you Mister G has no interest in a sexually uptight, inhibited closet-queen like you! I think by now you understand he has plenty of sexual options during the day!"

Uptight, inhibited closet queen? What in hell does he mean by that?

Mr. Hall turned to leave but suddenly stopped.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said. "Mister G is not happy with your house cleaning. He says you're sloppy and you take too many shortcuts."

"Well, uh, I'm not used to doing all this cleaning," I protested.

"He's not a happy man. You know, boy, you're not very bright, are you?"

"What? No, I am bright - I'm pretty smart!" I said.

He sadly shook his head then said, "If you are so smart, why aren't you doing a better job? He's got your life in the palms of his hands, boy...he's your probation officer, son, one word from him and you're in prison...why can't you get that thru your thick head?"

Oh my hell!!

"Did he say something to you? Is he thinking about sending me to prison?" I asked panicked.

"Not in so many words...he is a quiet man by nature. He usually doesn't reveal his emotions or what he's thinking...he may never tell you what he thinks, but mark my words, you keep pissing him off and one day you'll be out of here and find yourself giving blowjobs in cell block C...you know how you can help yourself?"

"How? What can I do?" I asked frantically.

"Ask him to inspect your work...and if he doesn't find it satisfactory, volunteer to be punished..."

"Huh? What good would that do?" I asked.

"Between you and me, boy, I happen to know he loves to spank pretty boys like you...but it's something you would have to ask for - he'll never mention it to you...ask him to inspect your work and if he finds something he doesn't like, tell him you deserve a sound spanking..."

The mixture of shock and disgust on my face made him continue.

"He will keep you around here longer if he knows he can spank your cute little ass from time to time."

Oh my hell, the indignities one must endure for making one little mistake.

"Oh yeah, one more thing," he said.

In a voice filled with dread I asked him, "What is it now?"

"Don't sound like that - this is a good thing...the past couple nights after work I've caught a couple of the boys masturbating each other with their nylon shorts...they love the feel of the nylon on their dicks."

"What does that have to do with me?" I asked him.

"Well son, since you're cooped up here with no social life I imagine you have to take matters in your own hand for any relief, if you know what I mean?"

Oh my hell...just when I thought I couldn't be more embarrassed I find out I was wrong.

"I'm only saying, you wear each pair of shorts once a week, if you find them exciting, do what the boys at work do - after wearing them all day, wrap them around your tiny dick and jerk-off into them...you'll have plenty of time to wash them...that's all!"

After he left I scooped up the shorts and jockstraps and went into my bedroom to sort them out.

There are two pairs I won't like wearing: The hot pink shorts are for Friday - the bright pink shorts for Saturdays. The Sunday shorts are white - the Monday shorts are powder blue - the Tuesday shorts are lavender - the Wednesday shorts I was wearing are yellow - and the Thursday shorts are red.

It seemed as though I no longer had any control over my own life.

I would now have to walk around the house naked except for the tiny shorts, and to placate Mister G, I would have to ask him to inspect my work and volunteer to be spanked.

It's better than the alternative, John. I told myself.

I stood there momentarily thinking about that alternative...sucking men's cocks in prison.

My reverie was broken when I felt my dick stiffen. What the hell is wrong with you, John?

Curiosity got the better of me. I pushed down the shorts and briefs then slid the shorts back up in place 'commando' style. I couldn't help but squeeze my hard-on thru the smooth nylon material.

Oh my hell - I'm one of those boys Mr. Hall was talking about!! God, the fabric felt great on my naked flesh. It was all I could do to push them down my legs again. I reluctantly put on one of the jockstraps then raised the shorts again.

Oh my hell...the nylon on my buttocks was wonderful. How am I going to do my house work walking around with a hard-on? And, what would Mister G think of me sporting wood most of the day?

"It's better than the alternative," I said out loud.

***

Okay, I admit it. At bedtime, I jerked-off twice in the yellow shorts. I'm surprised I waited that long.

When Mister G returned home he found me doing my house work wearing only the jockstrap and yellow shorts.

He said, "You look wonderful, Johnny. Your exercises are already working...and don't your shorts feel better than your old sweatpants?"

To my chagrin, he added, "Since you'll be walking around like that every day, would you mind if I wore only my boxers?"

Oh my hell - what could I say?

"No, uh, no sir, I won't mind."

When I was done cleaning I approached him and asked, "Sir, I'm not sure if I'm doing my job correctly...would you please inspect my work?"

He seemed pleased that I'd asked him.

I followed him thru the living room then kitchen. My heart sank every time he pointed out places I had missed cleaning, or had done a bad job.

He looked at me and asked, "Now Johnny, how can we remedy this situation? What can possibly motivate you to do a better job?"

I swallowed hard. I lowered my eyes to his bare chest and stomach.

"Well, uh, maybe, uh..."

"Maybe what?" he asked me impatiently.

"Uh, maybe I'll do a better job if you spank me whenever you're not satisfied with my work," I softly said.

"You want me to spank you?" he asked.

"Yes sir - maybe that's the only way I'll ever learn..."

"Maybe it is, son, but always remember, spanking you was your idea - not mine," he said.

"Y-Yes, sir," I shyly replied.

"For your sake we'll do it in private...follow me to my bedroom, son, I'll spank you in there," he casually remarked.

Oh my hell - his bedroom?

"Y-Yes, sir," I said.

His room was almost identical to mine. Same furnishings, same 60" television, even the strange iron stanchion with the huge base in the corner of the room. It was so heavy I couldn't move it.

The only real difference between our rooms it appeared Mister G's bed was king-sized, mine was a queen.

Mister G calmly walked to the two-cushion loveseat and sat down. He directed me to stand just to his right.

"Remove the shorts, boy, then lay across my lap!" he said firmly.

I gulped hard and said, "Y-Yes, sir."

I was grateful for the jockstrap keeping my dick and balls from his view.

"Johnny," he said. "I don't believe in coddling a boy like you..."

What does that mean?

"...spankings are punishment, and when you are laying across my lap do not expect any mercy from me...I guarantee it will hurt - by the end of it, you may even be crying...don't be embarrassed by crying..." he softly said.

Crying? No way in hell I will cry in front of him!

I gritted my teeth and awaited the first blow but all I could feel was his hand gently stroking my round buttocks.

Uh-oh...is he going to make this a sexual thing?

SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!!

I had let my guard down and relaxed and the three quick spanks caught me by surprise. And they hurt!!

SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!!

"Johnny, you have a pretty butt - more like a girl than a boy..."

SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!!

He began to gently massage my ass-cheeks between spanks. His hand was very soothing.

SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!!

Oh my hell it hurt!! Tears began to well in my eyes but there was no way I would cry in front of him.

SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!!

My mind screamed out in pain but no noises came from my mouth. And then I felt it: the hardness of his cock pressing against my belly thru his boxers.

SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!!

I lost control and began to quietly sob.

SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!!

That was all I could take. I broke down and cried like a little girl. His hand gently stroked the tortured flesh of my buttocks.

"It's okay to cry...it's okay to cry..." he softly said while his hand massaged my ass-cheeks.

"That is enough for now - maybe you learned a lesson...go ahead, pick up your shorts and leave the room!"

"Y-Y-Yes, sir," I whimpered.

I avoided his gaze. I didn't want him to see my tear-streaked face. Not only that, but my prick had stiffened inside the jock and no way did I want him to know I liked being spanked.

I almost ran thru the house to my bedroom. I found the security remote and found the channel for his room.

Mister G had moved from the loveseat to the edge of the bed. He was now totally naked and he was vigorously stroking his cock.

I pushed the jockstrap to the floor, sat on the edge of the bed and timed my masturbation with his. I was not only ashamed of crying, but also felt deeply troubled by the fact I couldn't take my eyes off his manly cock.

I suddenly saw a small smile form on his lips. It seemed to me he was staring at something thru the thin slits of his eyelids.

I focused on his cock-slit waiting for him to cum. And when I saw the first, long thin rope of sperm and semen shoot into the air, my own prick exploded as well.

***

I remained in my bedroom the next day while the cleaning boys were here. The room appeared somehow different or maybe I never really looked around before.

When in my alcohol daze, I wasn't a very curious person. I hadn't opened any of the drawers on the long bureau; it was only when I searched for the security remote I looked thru the contents of a couple of the drawers. Now that I was sober I decided to investigate.

***

Although I enjoy swimming in the nude when Mister G is away, I always wear a jock now in case Mr. Hall makes one of his unannounced visits.

One day, sure enough, when I climbed out of the pool there he was standing nearby. It amazed me I never heard him when he arrived.

"Well cutie, how has your first ten-days here gone? I see your shapely rear-end has a nice reddish glow, you've made Mister G a slightly happier man," he said.

'Slightly happier man?' What does that mean?

"Uh, it's going okay," I said softly.

"We need to talk," he said.

Uh-oh...now what?

He pointed to a chair and seemed to enjoy my discomfort as I gingerly sat on my bruised buttocks.

"So tell me, how is your sex life going now that you've sobered up?" he asked point blank.

"Well, uh, it's a - I really don't want to talk about that with you," I protested.

"Tough - you'll talk about anything I want you to talk about...now answer me this: how many times do you jerk-off every day? Four? Five times?"

My face burned red. How could he ask me such a private question?

"Don't worry, boy, everything you say to me is strictly between you and me...I always figured the reason you drank so much was to help you to NOT think about sex...but now that you're sober, I have a strong suspicion you're getting so many hard-ons you can't keep your hands off your little equipment!!"

I had to look away from him. How in the world did he know that?

He chuckled and said, "It's natural for a boy like you to masturbate a lot...do you use the nylon shorts? Do you wrap them around your scrawny dick and beat-off like there's no tomorrow?"

What gives him the nerve to ask such a crude question even if he's right?

"Never mind, boy, I can see from the look on your face that I'm right...you know what might help you? Wouldn't the feel of someone else's hand on your prick be so much better? I guarantee, your orgasms will be more explosive!"

Huh? What is he talking about?

"You know, boy, Mister G would like nothing better than to bring you off himself...he's told me about all your little hard-ons - he catches you with them without you even knowing it..."

"I'm not queer!" I said vehemently.

"Son, that doesn't matter in the least...being gay isn't all about having sex with another guy, it's about having feelings for that guy...frankly, jerking-off a man is only gay when you are in love with the man...are you in love with Mister G?"

"Of course not," I said.

"Well then, giving him handjobs wouldn't kill you, would it?"

"But, uh, I, uh..." I stuttered.

"Johnny, listen to me, I'm trying to help you stay out of prison," he said.

A cold shiver raced up my spine. It always does when I think of being sent to prison.

"But you said Mister G is happier now. I don't understand," I softly said to him.

"Johnny, you are a foolish-foolish boy...you are not thinking clearly...if you begin giving him handjobs when he wants, I can guarantee he will NEVER send you to prison!"

I had to admit there was a certain logic in his twisted words.

"But, I, uh, I wouldn't know what to do or how to even go about it," I said.

"You would have to make the first move - he will never touch you unless he knows you are willing...are there times when he's nearby, and you know his cock is hard?"

I winced at his question.

"Answer me, boy, it's important - I'm trying to help you!"

Oh my hell. He boxed me into a corner. I took a deep breath.