Chris Donaldson Ch. 05

"STEP FORWARD, PLEDGE!"

There was no point in looking around. Chris knew that Chas meant him. He stepped ahead out of line, his arms instinctively moving forward so that his hands could cover his inadequate genitals. His training with Justin reminded him to keep his arms at his sides. He continued to look down at the floor, but stood straight, determined to show everyone assembled that he was not a pussy, no matter what was about to happen.

"This lowly pledge, Chris Donaldson, has demonstrated his utter lack of knowledge of our great fraternity." Everyone booed and jeered.

"Therefore, it is incumbent on me to decide on a suitable punishment." Chas paused for effect. "His crime is so great" . . . more jeers . . . "his transgression so egregious" . . . more catcalls . . . "that even I, as pledgemaster, feel unequal to the task of determining his penalty."

Chris started to grow genuinely concerned at that last bit, which was unusual; having a hardon was definitely not an issue now.

"And so I refer him to our great officer, Vice President Evans."

Chris' heart sank.

Mason walked to the center of the room, facing Chris.

"Pledge! Kneel."

Chris dropped to his knees, his dick shrinking even further. He was going to break a reverse record for a soft penis at this point; it was about half an inch long now. Please, please, please, don't let this be some fucked-up outing of me. That I'm a cocksucker on my knees. Please. He didn't dare look up, but prayed to every god he knew to save him.

Mason spoke.

"Your failure to respect our fraternity and our house is the worst shame you can bring on yourself. And by extension, you bring that shame on all of us. You deserve," and here Mason raised Chris' chin so he could look the boy straight in the eye, "A most severe punishment." Mason smirked, and Chris quickly looked down again. Was it going to be the paddle? Or worse, the cane?

"Your punishment will be administered by the brother who is most responsible for your poor behavior and inadequate education." Mason smiled broadly. Chris started to tremble involuntarily. Tag, his pledge dad was a nice enough guy, but a stocky brute. If there was going to be spanking, it was gonna hurt like hell.

"CORVINO," Mason, shouted. Chris sucked in his breath, shocked and panicked. Corvino was not his pledge dad. Corvino was his roommate. "You will punish this errant pledge."

"Yes, Vice President Evans." Justin stood up, momentarily white as a sheet. "Can't wait," he laughed to his friends, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"VINO, VINO, VINO!" The actives started chanting.

Oh holy fuck, please don't let me get hard, please don't let me get hard, Chris intoned silently.

Justin strode over, and with great fanfare took a chair and placed it in the middle of the floor. The other seven pledges pulled back to give them room. The smell of sweat and stale booze in the air had started to make Chris queasy, but the familiar scent of his approaching roommate was arousing him. Shit, shit, shit.

Justin sat confidently the chair, and made a big show out of placing his feet firmly on the floor and adjusting his legs so they made a solid lap for punishment.

"Over my fuckin' knee, ROOMIE PLEDGE," he said to cheers from the assembled men. He beamed at his brothers, and grimaced comically at Chris, to general approbation. Only Mason noticed his pallor, and gloated quietly.

Chris caught Justin's eye briefly, and steeled himself. He remembered the low, sexy voice muttering in his ear all those months ago, "Shhhh. It's gonna be ok." He commended himself to the hopefully kindly spirits of whatever closeted former pledges might haunt this room, and walked over to Justin.

"Pledge Donaldson presenting himself for punishment, SIR!" Chris barked, according to the formula. His mind was going a hundred miles an hour. Please don't get hard, please don't get hard . . . he had fantasized about a scene like this many times. The reality was just as hot - terrifying, but hot.

"Down, Pledge."

Chris bent over his roommate's lap.

The room fell quiet.

"How much do I give him?" Justin asked Chas. Chas deferred to Mason.

"Whatever you think it takes, Corvino," was the answer.

Fuck you, you fuckin' pervy douche.

Justin made a big production of raising his right hand high to deliver the first spank, flexing his arm as he did it. With his left hand, he ostentatiously gripped the nape of Chris' neck.

SMACK!

SMACK!

Justin spanked Chris with vigor. Cheers broke out with each spank. Some of the pledges started counting. The brothers were fixated on the meaty hand delivering the punishment and the quickly reddening firm ass cheeks. They didn't see Justin's left hand gently stroking Chris' neck with every swat.

It's ok, Justin was saying with his left hand. You'll be ok. Just stay with me.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!!

The brothers were impressed with the force of Justin's spanking, and Mason was not the only one who started to get hard. Six of the naked pledges winced in sympathy with each swat, but Keith was fully erect and proud of his stature as top dog. He wanted Chris to suffer. That dumb fuck didn't know shit about being an SAE. He didn't belong here.

SMACK!

"Thirty-one!" Came the cry from the crowd.

Justin showed no sign of letting up. Chris was smarting and squirming, but internally he was deeply grateful. While he was still totally turned on, his roommate was hitting hard enough that there was no chance Chris would sport an erection at the end. And the fingers on his neck kept sending the message, stay with me. You'll be ok.

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

Justin's swing got more exaggerated with each blow. The guys cheered louder with each one, as the count mounted past what they had expected. They were turned on by the violence, but also impressed with what the small-dicked pledge seemed to be able to take. Chris was yelping now, a short exclamation with each swat. But he wasn't breaking.

SMACK!! "Owp!"

SMACK!! "Owp!"

"Seventy-nine!"

SMACK!! "Owp!"

"Eighty!"

"GOOD!" Mason shouted.

Justin raised his right hand again dramatically, and then let it fall, disappointment all over his face.

"Aw fuck, Evans, he hasn't had nearly enough."

Cheers from the audience.

"You're right Corvino. He hasn't."

Chris tensed. The hand spanking had been very painful, and while he was glad it had spared him the indignity of getting hard while over Justin's lap in front of the whole fraternity, he wasn't sure he could take much more. His secret Dom had not stinted. And Chris knew what Mason might have in mind.

"Time for the paddle, don't you think, Corvino?"

The brothers and pledges cheered. More beer flowed into red solo cups.

"Yes, Vice President. The paddle is in order."

Chris' heart sank. Now even Justin was against him.

"Stand up, pledge!" This time the voice was his roommate's. "Place your hands on the chair." Chris knew how to do this, and he obeyed, turning around so that the whole room now had a clear view of his ass. There were hoots, gasps and cheers; every square inch of it was a very angry red.

Chris was sure this would be his downfall. There was no way he could survive an assault with the paddle. The razor strop with Mason had at least been flexible; wood, he had read, stung worse because it was not. He had never been paddled before. He felt real dread. He had to endure it, though, and he had to be sure not to betray Justin.

Mason sauntered over, a massive paddle in his hands. The fraternity's letters had been embossed on the surface, and there were a dozen holes drilled in it as well. It was 22 inches long, three-and-a-half inches wide, and half an inch thick. A fearsome instrument. The pledges had not seen it before; only junior paddles had been used on them so far, and nothing with holes. Mason handed it to Justin, who received it with a bow.

"How many, Vice President Evans?"

"Pledge Donaldson had only 24 correct answers on the test. That means 26 errors." Mason pulled something out of his pocket. "So 26 swats."

Chris felt cautiously relieved. 26 was a lot, but his ass was already numb. This might be ok.

"With this multiplier." Chris stifled a gasp.

The drunken room jeered and hooted again.

Mason rolled an 8-sided die so that it landed on Chris' flattened back.

"What does the die read, Corvino?"

"Three." Mason was annoyed that using a die with more than six surfaces had not produced a better result.

Chris groaned. Three times 26 was . . . 78. Jesus Christ. He had only a moment to be thankful that it hadn't been higher. Motherfucker.

"ASSUME THE POSITION, PLEDGE!"

Chris stuck his ass out.

Silence fell as the brothers and pledges held their breath. 78 with the paddle was a lot, even for this fraternity, and the actives couldn't remember anyone getting that many outside of hell week. This was gonna be good.

"COUNT 'EM OUT, PLEDGE! TO 78!"

THWACK!!

"AAAHH!" Chris yelled involuntarily. "One!" FUCK that hurt.

THWACKKK!!

"Two!" Chris grunted before calling out the number, but stopped yelling.

THWACKK!!

"Three!"

Justin gave the punishment in groups of three; 26 sets, one for each of Chris' wrong answers. That actually made it worse for Chris, because the numbness from each set faded slightly before the next one. This was intentional, of course.

Now it was Justin willing himself not to get a hardon. He was incredibly turned on by the scene, his eyes starting to glaze over with lust.

THWACCK!!

"Seventeen!"

"THWACCK!!

Justin was being careful to hit hard, but not too hard, and not exactly in the same place twice in a row. It was a long way to 78, and he didn't want his roommate too damaged. Just nice and red, he grinned to himself. Fuck, man, don't think about that!

THWACCKKK!!

At 36, the meaty middle part of Chris' ass was starting to turn grey.

THWACKK!

"Thirty-nine!"

At 41, Chris started giving a full-throated yell after every stroke. No one else in the room made a sound. A few of the brothers started to get uncomfortable.

THWACK!

"AAHHH! Forty-seven!" Chris grunted. His knees were bending with each swat. At 56, his left leg started to shake.

Justin took his customary pause; they had reached 57. He looked over at Mason. Most of the guys were now looking at the floor. Mason was rubbing his fly. You fucking asshole, Justin thought.

It was one of those things, though. He couldn't stop. They all knew it. And Chris . . . Justin could tell he was suffering mightily, but he also knew how tough that boy was.

THWACK!

"AHH! Fifty-eight!"

After three more, Chris' ass was beginning to look raw. Justin tried to moderate the stroke, swinging just as dramatically, but not hitting as hard. He was getting worried. There were too many left.

THWACK!

"AAHH! Sixty-eight!"

The cracks of the wood were not as loud as they had been at the beginning, but if anyone noticed, they weren't going to say anything. Bryce, the shortest pledge, looked like he was going to cry.

Chris wasn't crying, though. He couldn't - he wanted to, and there was a huge lump in his throat, but all that was coming out was a dry panting that was not quite a sob. He had three thoughts: don't lose count; don't fall over; keep trying to breathe.

THWACK!

"AHH! Seventy-two!"

Only two more sets of three. You're a champ, Chrissy, Justin thought. You can do it.

THWACK!

"AAHH! Seventy-three!"

THWACK!!

"AAHH! Seventy-four!"

Chris leg was shaking so badly now that he had leaned forward, supporting his weight with his arms, and with his chin gripping the back of the chair to his neck.

THWACK!

"AAGH! Seventy-five!"

Last pause. Just finish it, Chris begged silently. As if reading his mind, Justin gave out the last three swats as fast as Chris could count them.

THWACK!

"UNH! Seventy-six!"

THWACK!

"AAGH! Seventy-seven!"

THWACK!

"UNGH! Seventy-eight!"

Chris sobbed out the last three numbers. No one moved. What did they all do now? Justin unceremoniously dropped the paddle on the floor with a loud CLUNK that made half the guys jump. He bent over Chris and lifted his shoulders gently. The boy was about to collapse, that was obvious. Justin slipped an arm around his roommate and lifted Chris' right arm over his neck.

Chas, in an attempt puncture the awkwardness and pretend this was all run-of-the-mill, if a little severe, announced:

"PLEDGE! The punishment has been served."

"Thank you, Sir," Chris said clearly.

You are a FUCKING CHAMP, Justin thought, and squeezed Chris' shoulder. He was breaking protocol with the physical contact, but everyone was so shit-faced at this point, they weren't gonna notice.

There was a smattering of applause, but most of the guys were too uncomfortable to react until it was clear where this was going. Chris' ass was just about skinned in two places, one on each cheek. He wasn't bleeding, but no one in the room had ever seen an ass looking quite like that before.

"Let's hope you remember your fraternity history better next time, Donaldson," Mason said tightly. Justin wanted to punch him in the face.

Chas leapt in again; this party was clearly over. "Great night, men," he said. "Pledges, you will now be escorted out of the house."

The pledges collected their clothes and met their pledge dads to be led out; Justin gingerly slipped Chris back into his briefs and jeans, while Tag helped with his shirt.

"I'm fine, I can do this myself." Chris walked slowly over to his shoes. There was a brief, relieved murmur in the room. It had looked worse than it was; he was walking. He leaned on Justin as he shoved his loafers on. He couldn't find his socks.

"I can take him out," Justin said. The vibe among the brothers was awkward and a little tense. No one wanted to show undue sympathy to a pledge, but this paddling, after the long and hard hand spanking, had been on the verge of being too much. They were glad someone else would take responsibility; Justin was the dude's roommate anyway, and he'd make sure there was no ugliness or backlash.

Chris insisted on going up the stairs on his own, although he gripped the banister tightly. Chas was the only one to speak to him before he left. "Good job, Donaldson. Way to take a paddling!" The words were face-saving, but also heartfelt, and a few of the other guys mumbled in agreement.

Justin and Chris walked down the sidewalk, two feet between them, in the direction of their dorm. They didn't speak until they were well out of sight of the fraternity, and Justin was sure Mason was not trailing them.

"Stop a sec, Chris."

Chris stopped, still a bit dazed and in a lot of pain.

"I gotta know you're ok."

"I'm ok."

"I had to do it."

Chris looked him in the eye. "Of course you did. Don't worry, I'll be fine. This wasn't as bad as when Mason whipped my ass." Chris was lying. It wasn't worse, but it was just as bad. "And if anyone else had been doing it, it would have been a lot tougher." That was the truth.

Justin wrapped his arms around Chris and pulled him into a tight hug.

"You were so amazing tonight, Chris. You put 'em all to shame."

Chris smiled, pleased at the praise, and at the warmth of the embrace.

"I wasn't gonna let ya down, Sir."

Justin kissed Chris' forehead with a fervor that shocked them both. Not knowing what to say, Chris squeezed Justin again, and they continued their walk back to Kroetzger, Justin's arm never leaving Chris' shoulders. Once in the privacy of their room, Justin stripped his roommate gently, and looked at his ass. Ouch.

"You got any antibiotic ointment, roomie?"

"Am I bleeding?" Chris asked, startled. "It's mostly just feeling numb now."

"No, you're not bleeding, but I skinned ya in a couple places. I'm sorry." Justin laid Chris on his bed and rubbed first antibiotic cream, and then some skin lotion into his roommate's butt. Fondling his roommate's ass got him hard in no time, and took off his pants and boxers, almost apologetically.

"I know you're hurtin', Chrissy, but your ass is making me so fucking boned."

Chris chuckled. Good old Justin.

"Yeah, I was turned on too."

"While I was paddling you?!"

"Sure. I mean, not like popping wood, but mentally . . . yeah. Because it was you."

"And in front of all those guys, I bet you loved that part, you little slut." Justin rolled Chris over on his back, and mussed his hair affectionately. Chris winced as his butt touched the comforter.

"Aw," Justin purred, "I'm sorry your pretty little ass is on fire, roomie. But God damn, I want to fuck it soooo bad."

Chris laughed. "Not tonight, Sir. PLEASE not tonight."

"Aw, you won't even feel it, with all the pain on the surface," Justin grinned.

"It hurts a lot more than just on the surface!"

Justin pouted comically. "Oh, ok." He gathered Chris to his chest and started gently pumping his massive uncut dick beneath the boy's sore asscheeks without trying to penetrate. He teased the crack, loving how the heat from the spanked butt warmed his cock. Chris moaned. Justin buried his face in the pillow, and started pumping harder. Chris' own dick was now at full mast.

Grunting, Justin hastily flipped Chris over and spread the boy's legs. FUCK, that red butt looked hot. He spread Chris' steaming asscheeks and laid his dick in between them, oozing precum. FUUCKKK. He pumped back and forth for a minute. He was so incredibly horny, and close to blowing. He grasped Chris' shoulders firmly and rubbed back and forth, back and forth over the lightly hairy crack, inflamed butt, and tight pucker. Eventually he couldn't hold it back. His tight nuts smacking Chris' already-tortured sit spot, he fucked his roommate's crack until he spewed spurt after spurt of his load, all over Chris' back and ass.

He practically howled when he shot.

Chris laughed. "Careful, the whole dorm is gonna hear you!"

"Dude, do you know how long I've been holding that in??" He collapsed on top of Chris, who felt the air go out of his lungs at the weight.

"And what about me? Don't I get to cum after all that?"

"Heh. Of course you do Chrissy, you were awesome. You earned hands-free tonight, boy." Chris flushed with pride.

Justin spat on his hand generously. "I don't wanna get that crap all over my hands," he laughed when Chris looked wistfully at the locked filing cabinet where his lube was.

Justin pumped Chris' dick slowly with his left hand and wrapped his other arm around Chris' head, holding him tight and whispering sexily in his ear the whole time.

"You were such a fuckin stud tonight . . . you had to show your little wee-wee to the whole house, and they laughed at it . . ." Chris's dick bounced. He loved it when Justin talked shit about his small endowment now. "You got your sweet ass paddled in front of 50 guys . . ." He pumped Chris' cut cock faster. "You got put over your Sir's knee like a bad fuckin boy right in front of all those hot men with big dicks . . . you must've loved that, you little faggot . . . they all were lookin' right at your ass, hearing you yell and scream, I bet you woulda loved to suck every one of them off . . . "

AAUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGG HHHHHHmmmmphhhhh. Justin put his hand over Chris' mouth as he came, laughing. "Damn, you thought I was loud . . . shit, boy!" He stroked Chris more slowly, easing the cum out of the battered little stud's dick. He stopped and wiped his hand on Chris' chest. "Hang on."

Justin threw his boxers on and came back from the bathroom with two hot, wet washcloths. They cleaned themselves up.

"Ok boy, brush your teeth and get in your jammies." Chris obeyed. Justin held Chris's torso gently as the boy climbed into the top bunk, helping him up. To Chris' surprise, Justin climbed up after.

"Huh?"

"I'm tucking you in, boy." He arranged the covers around Chris' small but fit frame. He laid his hand alongside Chris' face and looked deep into his light blue eyes. "You were such a fucking champ." He kissed Chris quickly on the cheek, and let himself over the side into his own bed, switching off his light.