Email: boy18cute@yahoo.com
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Dylan_Boy18cute
The Hollywood Agency Book -4-
Chapter 12: “A Cl-ass Act!”
When Callum arrived at Mr. Meyers' office the next day, he was wearing only a pair of running shorts and flip-flops, just as Mr. Meyers had directed. The night before, his roommate had pointedly made a snide comment about him lounging around the house dressed like a boy-whore waiting for a pick-up, so Callum had definitely felt a little self-conscious when he left his house, a feeling that was not lessened by the fact that he had to wear a fanny-pack with this minimalist attire.
Callum knew his running shorts didn't have any pockets, so he had stopped at Dick's Sporting Goods on his way home the previous evening and picked up a fanny-pack to carry what he needed, including his now ever-present bottle of energy supplement. He'd always thought that other dudes looked pretty faggy wearing them, but he figured he had no choice if he was going to do what Mr. Meyers had directed.
The young Athlete deliberately purchased the most masculine-looking fanny-pack he could find, but he still couldn't help cringing when he looked at himself in the mirror as he was leaving for the modeling agency. It was bad enough that wearing only the running shorts made it pretty obvious to anyone who took a good look at Callum that the boy clearly shaved his complete body. The addition of the fanny pack seemed to actually draw attention to the fact how exposed he was.
And, while the 'Outdoor Product Elements Waist Pack' had seemed pretty masculine when he bought it, Callum didn't think it looked all that masculine seeing it around his own waist. Truth be told, Callum still thought he looked pretty faggy.
He had tried to shrug off his insecurity, but almost failed, nearly returning to his room to change into a less revealing set of clothes or at least grab a tank-top to cover his hairless chest, but he knew that Mr. Meyers would be angry with him if he did.
His Agent was intent on curing what he saw as Callum's insecurities about displaying his body.
The young man knew that, if he showed up wearing anything more than the running shorts and flip-flops Mr. Meyers had prescribed, his Agent would definitely be upset.
Since keeping his new manager happy was now Callum's number one priority, the boy suppressed his misgivings and ventured out into the world for the first time in his new standard garb.
Fortunately, Callum's mom let him drive her old Toyota Corolla for the time being, so he didn't have to take the bus and suffer the stares of all the other passengers. Much to his dismay the only parking place he could find was more than a block away from the agency. He found it incredibly embarrassing to walk just that short distance.
Callum couldn't believe how many people checked him out, most of them not making the slightest effort to hide what they were doing. Girls, guys, dirty old men, it didn't seem to make any difference. They all raked over his body with their eyes. And if the attention itself was unsettling, what was worse was seeing the play of emotions crossing the faces of those who were checking out his nearly naked body.
Envy and admiration he had expected, but the sexy young man was surprised and unnerved by the number of people, women and men alike, who displayed open lust as he walked by. It made Callum feel completely exposed, as if he was actually nude as he walked down the street.
But more unsettling than even the most blatant leers were the occasional sneers of scorn and contempt that he saw on the faces. It was obvious that at least a number of his on-lookers had concluded that Callum was some sort of flaming faggot parading his almost naked body for the whole world to see. Any doubt on that score was erased when Callum passed a long-haired dude just before he got to the agency's entrance.
"Hey, fag-boy, want to suck a real man's dick?" the guy inquired in a voice loud enough to be heard half-way down the block.
Callum could feel his face burning with humiliation, a humiliation made even greater as he realized that, if the situation had been reversed, Callum being the dude watching a nearly naked teenage boy walk down the street, he might had made the exact same comment.
Callum despised faggots and he couldn't imagine any insult that could be greater than being publicly called out as one of those perverts.
Just a week earlier fists would have flown if anyone had spat that type of comment in Callum's direction. Now, however, painfully aware that he was wearing nothing underneath his running shorts and that his entire crotch was as hairless as a ten-year-old boy's, Callum knew he couldn't risk a tussle in the streets. What if his shorts came off?
Callum would be literally exposed in public and everyone would see that his body was completely hairless, that he had no pubes, no body-hair at all. Just thinking about that possibility made Callum's heart pound in his chest.
Lowering his head in shame, Callum rushed past the man, hearing his tormentor cackle in derision, feeling his entire body flushing as he reached the building where the Agency's offices occupied the whole top floor. He quickly pushed open the door and virtually ran inside, frantic in the need to escape the stares and comments that had enveloped him on the street.
Once inside the relative safety of the building, Callum paused to collect himself. He couldn't believe how hard he was breathing and he realized his entire torso was coated with a thin sheen of sweat. He stood there, trying to calm down. He didn't want Mr. Meyers to see him so obviously upset. Particularly since the fact that he was so agitated seemed to vindicate Mr. Meyers' assertion that Callum was overly self-conscious about his body and about what other people thought about him.
Callum's respiration had just about returned to normal when he realized, with a start, that his nipples were fully erect. Glancing down his torso, Callum was mortified to see that his running shorts were clearly jutting out. The young man was totally and obviously boned up.
As he looked down at himself he saw a precum spot expanding on the front of his running shorts. Had he been aroused when he was walking down the street?
Had all the people he passed noticed his erection and been laughing at him?
Had he made a public spectacle of himself, walking around almost naked while sporting an obvious boner, leaking pre-cum into his nylon shorts? Callum felt himself blushing in embarrassment all over again.
And it was at this precise moment that a cough made him look up.
There, behind the lobby desk, sat a guard eyeing him with a condescending sneer.
"Can I help you....sir?" he asked, putting an inflection on 'Sir' that made it obvious that he thought it was an honorific totally unsuited to the person he was addressing.
Callum had dealt with this guard before when he'd entered the building and, while there had always been a certain coolness in his manner, the guard had never before addressed him with such obvious contempt. Then again, Callum had never before entered the building dressed only in running shorts and flip-flops - and flashing an obvious erection to boot.
"I have an appointment with the JM Modeling Agency," Callum managed to squeak out, unable to keep a noticeable quaver out of his voice.
"Yes," the guard responded, not even trying to mask the sarcasm in his tone, "I'm sure you do."
With a smile that was more a lewd smirk, the guard continued. "Would you sign in, please?"
Callum walked over to the guard station, took the proffered pen, and signed his name in the log book, painfully aware that his hand was shaking as he did so. The guard flipped the sign-in book around and stared at Callum's entry. Then he looked up.
"The offices of JM Modeling Agency are on the top floor," he informed the boy, "but I'm sure you already know that," he added, now openly grinning at him.
"Yes, sir," Callum quietly replied awkwardly: "I do."
Callum walked over to the bank of elevators and pressed the "Up" button. Just as the bell sounded to announce the arrival of the elevator he heard the guard behind him. "And, boy," the guard began. Callum turned around to look at him. "Don't forget to sign out when you leave – no matter how late that is. Understand, boy?"
"Yes, sir," Callum quickly agreed, actually stammering as he did so. As the elevator doors closed, Callum saw the guard actually wink at him. For reasons he couldn't really understand, Callum felt himself blushing yet again.
As he rode the elevator to the top floor, he tried to figure out what was wrong with him. The guard had just treated him like a punk, like some fucking faggot, and he'd let him do it. He'd even called him 'boy' to his face - and Callum hadn't said a thing. The only difference between yesterday and today had been how Callum was dressed. Yesterday, he'd been in slacks and a Polo shirt, today he was in only his running shorts.
That was the sole difference.
However it was a big enough difference, apparently, for the guard to think that he could get away with treating Callum like street scum and, what was worse, for Callum to accept being treated that way.
And here, in the elevator, on his way to JM Modeling Agency, Callum had an epiphany. Mr. Meyers was right. He was too sensitive about what other people thought of him. Nothing had changed about Callum in the last twenty-four hours. He was still the same straight stud he'd always been, but because he appeared in public wearing only a pair of skimpy running shorts, strangers had made an assumption what type of person he was.
They were wrong, and Callum knew they were wrong.
He had let them get away with it because he, Callum, wasn't secure enough in who he was. He was too afraid of what other people might think. His Agent was right, he realized. His Agent had been right in the beginning, and Callum knew he had to work hard to prove he could overcome his insecurities.
'Well, fuck them,' Callum thought, feeling a surge of anger. 'I'm not going to let a bunch of assholes who I don't know and who don't know me keep me from achieving success. They're just a bunch of fucking losers, anyway. Let 'em look, let 'em leer, fuck, I don't give a damn if they want to sneer at me. I'm not going to let them stop me from achieving my dream. I'm going to be the next big male model and I'm not going to let anyone or anything sidetrack me.'
As the elevator doors opened, Callum, with a new-found sense of self-confidence, squared his shoulders and stepped into the hallway, right in front of the glass doors of the Agency. He pushed one of the doors open and strode across the room to the reception desk where Troy was sitting, just staring at him, making no effort to hide the lust Callum's masculine body aroused in him.
'Let the little faggot get his jollies,' Callum thought. 'I don't care what he thinks about me. I'm not going to let him or anybody else keep me from making it big. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make it. Fuck him. Fuck them all!"
"Hello, Troy," Callum said coolly as he stood directly in front of the receptionist, purposely thrusting his pelvis forward so that his bulging running shorts were almost in Troy's face. "I'm here to work on my tan."
The look on Troy's face was almost laughable. He was almost drooling, almost jumping up from his chair, so turned on by what he saw. Callum had no idea the computer on Troy's desk had just shown the self-made Artificial Intelligence aided video of his ' Alter Ego'.
Troy was obviously flustered, too. He was used to dealing with a nervous and self-conscious Callum, and now he seemed totally unprepared for the self-confidence that Callum was projecting – the self-confidence that Callum was sure any real straight man should feel when dealing with a faggot like Troy.
Whatever surprise Troy may have felt at first, he quickly reverted to his old form.
"Well, hello sexy," he cooed, licking his lips. "Aren't you a sight to get a boy's juices flowing. Or a girl's too," he added as an obvious after-thought.
Though Callum had resolved to ignore the little fairy, he could feel himself beginning to redden. He didn't know what it was, but the male receptionist always seemed able to throw him off his game.
That was just something he'd have to work on, Callum told himself.
Seeing Callum blush, Troy couldn't help his smile broadening. He stood up behind his desk. "Let's get you started right away on that all-over tan. It's a beautiful sunny day and I'm sure you don't want to waste a minute of it. Just follow me, sweetie," he added as he turned and started walking towards the door to Mr. Meyers' office.
'I'm not your fucking sweetie,' Callum raged thinking to himself, his hands balling into fists without thinking. He got angry despite himself. He had already begun learning self-control, and actually said:
"You lead the way, Troy."
Hearing himself make this response to Troy's obviously provocative remarks made Callum feel good. He felt like he was making good on the resolution he'd formed in the elevator. Nobody, not even Troy, was going to keep him from becoming a success story at JM Modeling Agency and in the field of professional modeling.
Troy knocked on the door of the Boss’ office, entering with Callum following closely behind. Mr. Meyers was sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone. He motioned them in and indicated that they should proceed to the bathroom.
Once there, it took less than five seconds for Callum to divest himself of his fanny-pack and his shorts, his only items of clothing. Callum tried to ignore the fact that he was now sporting major wood, despite having jerked off right before he left home but, of course, Troy made a big thing about it.
"Aren't you the randy stud," Troy smirked. "I don't know, sexy. Every time I see you, you're throwing a big bone. Must be something here that turns you on. What is it, big boy?"
Callum suppressed a sarcastic response. He wasn't going to let the little fruit-cake get to him - not with Mr. Meyers sitting there, right outside the bathroom.
"Why don't we just take care of business, Troy," he simply suggested.
"Whatever you say, sexy," Troy readily agreed. "I'm always ready to take care of business."
The little faggot actually wiggled his ass at Callum as he said it. The naked athlete knew his blush was deepening but he couldn't seem to help himself. Something about Troy just seemed to get to him, every time.
Seeing Callum's obvious discomfort, Troy smirked and let a little chuckle escape his lips before he turned his attention to the counter with a variety of different lotions and sprays. Troy picked up some sun-tan lotion. Callum noticed that it had an SPF of 30. Troy spread a large dollop of lotion on his hands and rubbed them together. Looking up at Callum, he brusquely ordered him to "assume the position."
Callum was a little taken aback by the abrupt change in Troy's demeanor, but he reminded himself that the same thing had happened yesterday when the boy had begun taking photographs. Mr. Meyers had told Callum that Troy was a real professional when it came to his office assignments and this was obviously another manifestation of that quality.
As directed, Callum spread his legs far apart and locked his fingers behind his neck. Almost immediately, Troy brought his hands to Callum's shoulders and began applying the lotion liberally. Not surprisingly, the lotion wasn't the only thing Troy was liberal with. His hands seem to float all over the muscled body in front of him and, while he was applying the lotion to Callum's chest, Troy didn't miss the opportunity to squeeze and tweak the models nipples.
Needless to say, Callum's nips were once again fully erect by the time Troy moved on to his abs.
Callum was trying to ignore the fact that his cock had started leaking pre-cum almost from the moment Troy had started lubing him up. He tried to prepare himself for Troy's imminent assault on his cock and balls, knowing that the horny fag-boy would be sure to take full advantage of his opportunity to fondle and molest Callum's junk. So he was surprised when, after applying a thick layer of lotion to the area just below his navel, Troy suddenly squatted down and began working on the lower half of Callum's thighs.
Troy slowly worked his way down both legs, paying particular attention to Callum's ankles and feet. He even worked some lotion in between each of Callum's toes. Then he stood back up.
"Uh, haven't you forgotten something, Troy?" Callum asked. He had assumed the whole purpose of having Troy apply the lotion to Callum's body was to make sure that Callum didn't get sunburned.
Why had Troy left all the previously untanned areas of Callum's body alone? Since these were precisely the areas that figured to be most susceptible to burning, it didn't seem to make any sense to Callum.
"Don't you worry, stud boy," Troy re-assured him, with a wink. "I haven't forgotten anything."
Troy put the suntan lotion back on the counter and picked up another. Callum saw that this one had an SPF of 15. Troy squeezed a good amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together. Then, taking a step forward, he lowered his hands and took hold of Callum's ball-sac. Smiling up at the taller athlete, he began working the lotion into Callum's balls and cock.
Callum couldn't believe the jolt that ran through his body when Troy's fingers first closed around his nuts. No guy had ever grabbed him by the balls before, at least not in such an intimate and personal way.
When Troy's hands reached up and began massaging the cock as his object of attention, the model couldn't keep a groan of pleasure from escaping his mouth. Despite himself, Callum could feel his legs shake, and after a few moments he realized, to his horror, that he was on the edge of cumming. He could feel his face burning with embarrassment as he tried to will down his cock, stop his upcoming cum shot, while Troy worked his aroused cock - he just didn't think there could be anything more embarrassing than that.
But then, miraculously, just as he was sure he was going to lose it and pop off a load right there, Troy released his hold on Callum's manhood and began working some lotion into Callum's belly and groin. His hands were still way too intimate for the model's tastes but at least the immediate strong urge to ejaculate had eased somewhat.
Trying to keep his mind off the things Troy was doing to his body, Callum asked him why he was using a lower SPF lotion for those areas of his body that had never tanned before.
"I would have thought that you'd use a higher SPF just to keep me from burning there."
"You're only going to be in the sun today for a maximum of three hours, Callum," Troy explained as he moved on to working the lotion into the surprisingly sensitive area between Callum's legs and his inner thighs."So that works out as an hour and a half for each side. With an SPF of 15 that means that, in effect, the amount of tanning rays you're getting is what you would get if you were lying in the sun unprotected for about six minutes on each side. You'll get some color but you won't burn."
"The reason I used a higher SPF on the tanned parts of your body," Troy continued, now working on Callum's perineum with a stroke reminiscent of that used by the hunky athlete when he was fondling one of his girlfriends, "is that I want to slow down your tanning in those areas relative to your untanned areas. What we want to ultimately achieve is an even all-over tan so we want the white areas of your groin and ass to get more sun than the areas that are already darker."
As distracted as he was by Troy's insistent massaging of the really sensitive areas of his body, Callum had to admit the logic in Troy's approach.
He just couldn't shake the sensation that Troy was feeling him up just like he would if Callum were some horny bitch.
He let the receptionist do his thing, even though Troy’s massaging fingers once again seemed to be driving Callum closer and closer to an embarrassing orgasm. For the next few minutes, Troy concentrated on applying the suntan lotion to the lower torso and upper thighs. Again, just as Callum was afraid that he was about to lose it, Troy stopped right before the model came, and as he moved around to massage the lotion into the muscled, v-shaped back, one could hear an audible sigh of relief.
Troy took his time on Callum's ass, rubbing a lot of lotion onto the muscled butt and not surprisingly using the opportunity to squeeze and massage the big globes. Then, Troy told Callum to reach back and spread his cheeks apart, since he needed the ass-crack to be greased up.
Callum couldn't help shivering as the assistant's fingers worked their way up and down his back-furrow. When Troy suddenly inserted a hard finger into the models butt-hole, an involuntary groan escaped Callum's lips. 'Damn it,' he thought, trying to keep himself under control, 'that little faggot just can't pass up the chance to finger my asshole.' But he managed to keep his anger reined in until Troy roughly jammed a second finger up his butt, causing a searing pain in Callum's virginal anus. That's when Callum lost it.
"God damn it, Troy," he shouted, taking two steps forward, pulling his hole off the receptionist's fingers. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm just greasing up your butt hole so you don't get sunburned back there," was Troy's innocent response, delivered in his most grating, effeminate voice.
"Well, just leave my asshole alone," Callum responded, trying to control his rage. He had turned around and was staring daggers at the little pansy when he heard Mr. Meyers' angry voice.
"What the hell is going on in there?"
Immediately, Callum found himself on edge. He knew he was in the right, but he hadn't wanted to involve Mr. Meyers in this little contretemps.
"It's nothing, sir," he called out. "Just a little misunderstanding between me and Troy."
Mr. Meyers was obviously not mollified. "Both of you, get in here," he ordered.
Callum exited the bathroom, closely followed by Troy. Mr. Meyers had finished his phone conversation and was just sitting there, staring at both of them. He motioned the two of them to move in front of his desk.
Once they were standing directly in front of him, Mr. Meyers nodded at Callum.
"Okay, Callum, you tell me what's going on."
"Well, sir," Callum began, uneasy despite the knowledge that he had done nothing wrong, "Troy was applying the suntan lotion to my ass when he suddenly stuck two fingers up my butt-hole."
"Troy," Mr. Meyers queried, turning to his receptionist, "is that true?"
"Yes, sir. That's correct. I did stick two fingers up Callum's pussy….. I mean his asshole, Sir" he quickly amended seeing Mr. Meyers' angry glare.
Looking down, Callum could feel his face flaring in heat at Troy's characterization of his butt-hole as a 'pussy.' It was bad enough that Callum was being mocked in the streets by total strangers, he'd be damned if he was going to let some fucking butt-muncher impugn his masculinity right in front of Mr. Meyers. But before he could say anything, Meyers stood up and began to move from behind his desk, his face firmly set in disapproval.
“Troy," he pointed out angrily, "I've warned you about using that word before to refer to our model's assholes. It is disrespectful even in those cases in which it is obvious that the model has been the receptive partner in anal sex - to say nothing of situations in which the individual has no interest in such activities. As I assume is the case right now, isn't that correct, Callum?"
"Yes, Sir," Callum replied with force, somewhat unsettled that he was being called upon to publicly affirm his masculinity. Then, suddenly uncertain what he had agreed to, he changed to "No, Sir."
When that elicited a confused look from Mr. Meyers, Callum tried to clarify his declaration, "I mean, I've never been fucked up the ass, Sir." He did not even realize his Agent had said “This is the case RIGHT NOW”, and he didn't feel the impact the wording had to his self-confidence.
"Exactly what I thought," Mr. Meyers said in agreement, turning back to Troy.
"Callum hasn't lost his anal virginity yet and it's totally improper for you to imply otherwise, particularly using such a derogatory term." Again he used a wording that left Callum on the brink of protesting, since he did not plan to have any intercourse with another man, but he decided to stand still and just listen in.
"I'm sorry, sir," Troy apologized.
"I'm sorry, too, Troy, but your apology is not enough," Mr. Meyers immediately replied.
"You've been warned about this before, but that apparently wasn't enough to make you change your ways. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished this time."
"Yes, sir," Troy quietly replied, letting his head fall slightly.
Mr. Meyers waited a moment, looking sternly at his receptionist, and then spoke again.
“Well, you know the procedures, Troy. Strip completely."
"Yes, sir," Troy replied in a small voice.
The next thing Callum saw was Troy squatting down, untying his shoe laces. Callum had followed the exchange between Troy and Mr. Meyers with a mixture of satisfaction and consternation. He was gratified that Mr. Meyers was taking action to curb Troy, but he also was more than a little disconcerted that Mr. Meyers had actually said that Callum had not lost his anal virginity 'yet,' as if there was even the remotest possibility that such a thing could ever happen.
But these conflicting emotions were totally overwhelmed by the shock of hearing Mr. Meyers declare that Troy needed to be punished followed by his order telling Troy to strip.
The surprises were just beginning for Callum. Troy removed all his clothes without any objection and was soon standing in front of Mr. Meyers as naked as Callum. Callum had to admit he was impressed. Who would have thought that the little faggot had such a well-developed physique- and a good-sized cock, too?
Then, with a start, Callum realized that Troy's body was as denuded of body hair as his own. It seemed to put him in the same category as Troy and Callum didn't like that - he didn't like that at all.
But even before Callum could fully process this new perception of Troy, events were rapidly moving on. Mr. Meyers looked at Callum and told him to get one of the straight-back chairs from along the wall and move it in front of the desk. When he did so, Mr. Meyers told his model to sit down. Uncertain what was going on, Callum did as he was told. Then Mr. Meyers turned back to his receptionist who now bent naked over a desk, and he made a disapproving sound.
"Oh no, Troy. Since Callum is the one you offended," he informed him, "Callum will be the one to mete out the punishment. Assume the proper position over his legs, not the desk."
"Yes, sir," Troy meekly replied, keeping his eyes cast down. The next thing Callum knew, Troy was draping his naked body across Callum's lap. Callum looked up at Mr. Meyers in total confusion. "Sir?" he queried, at a complete loss as to what was going on.
Mr. Meyers smiled grimly at Callum, understanding his uncertainty.
"Let me explain something, Callum. If we have to use corrective action here at the Agency, when we have to discipline someone, I prefer to do so physically by way of a hard spanking. The punishment can be administered immediately and, because it is both painful and demeaning, it impresses on the offending party the seriousness of the infraction. On the other hand, it is also over quickly and the disciplined individual can get back to work right away - though, of course, his ass will be sore and bruised for the rest of the day."
"Don't worry, Callum," Mr. Meyers continued, seeing the look of shock on the boy's face, "if a model is being disciplined we're always careful to make sure that he has no appointments within the next day, so his ass can fully recover beforehand and, if necessary, we'll even postpone his spanking if it might adversely affect a scheduled shoot or personal appearance. But, yes, to answer your question before you ask it, all models here are subject to being physically disciplined if their actions warrant it. It'd probably be a good thing if you remember that in the future, though I'm sure you won't give me any cause for disciplining you."
Mr. Meyers paused for a moment to let Callum absorb this new information, before he continued: "Because Troy insulted you by referring to your asshole as a 'pussy,' I think it only fair that you administer his punishment. I know you're right-handed, so what I want you to do is take your left hand, reach under Troy's body and grab a firm hold of his cock and balls."
Seeing Callum blush furiously at this order, Mr. Meyers allowed himself to smile.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Callum. It's only a cock and a pair of balls, just like you have between your legs and I'm sure you've grabbed your own many times in the past few days. Troy's are no different. So just reach down and get a good grip on them. This will keep Troy from thrashing around too much and also prevent him from falling off your lap and possibly injuring himself while you're spanking him. We wouldn't want that."
Callum wasn't sure what he wanted, but he was sure what he didn't want: To grab a hold of Troy's scrotum. But it was obvious that Mr. Meyers was not in the mood to brook with any hesitation on Callum's part, so he reluctantly reached under the little faggot's body and grabbed hold of his cock and balls. He was disgusted but not surprised to find Troy's cock was not only fully aroused but leaking pre.
'That's just fucking great,' Callum thought. 'The little prick is probably going to get off while I'm spanking his ass. Some punishment.' But, seeing how agitated Mr. Meyers already appeared, Callum knew to keep his thoughts to himself.
Once he had a firm grip on the receptionist, Mr. Meyers informed Callum that he was to administer fifty swats to Troy's ass - twenty five to each ass cheek.
"Don't worry about keeping track, Callum," the man advised him. "Troy will count out each stroke. You just make sure that each one is hard. I don't want you going easy on Troy out of any misplaced feelings of sympathy. It's important that your hand impress upon Troy's ass the seriousness of his transgression. Do you understand, Callum?"
"Yes, sir," Callum replied with confidence. Going easy on Troy's ass was the last thing on his mind.
"Well," Mr. Meyers said, "once you're sure you have a good grip on Troy's junk you can begin."
As he tightened his grip to make sure that Troy didn't slide off his lap, a part of Callum was already regretting that he made a big thing about Troy's sticking two fingers up his ass. He should have just let it slide. What was happening now was far more embarrassing than being finger-fucked for a few minutes would have been. Another part of Callum, though, was looking forward to giving Troy an ass-thrashing he'd remember for a long time. It was his chance to put the little faggot in his place and show him how a real man could dish out the punishment.
He'd let the punk know that he wasn't someone who he could mess with without consequences. The little fruit-cake had had his fun - now it was time to pay the piper.
With a grim determination, Callum raised his hand and brought it back down as forcefully as possible on Troy's right cheek. The sound of flesh slapping flesh crackled across the room. Callum was actually a little surprised how hard he had smacked the boy's ass, but Troy hardly flinched.
Instead, in a firm voice, Troy simply said, "One. Thank you, Callum." Even though Mr. Meyers had said that Troy would count out the strokes, Callum was still surprised when he did. Callum liked it – particularly the part where Troy thanked him.
That was just what a little fag-boy should be doing - thanking a real man for spanking him. Callum brought his hand down just as hard on the boy's left cheek and the sound re-echoed around the room. "Two. Thank you, Callum," Troy intoned.
So it went. Callum's expression of grim determination was soon replaced by one of obvious pleasure. He was enjoying spanking Troy's ass - he was enjoying it a lot.
He had to admit: It was a real turn-on, a chance to pay the little faggot back for all the embarrassing innuendo he'd tossed at him over the past week. It was just what the little bitch deserved.
As the count mounted and Troy's buns turned from a pinkish tinge to a deep crimson, Callum found himself increasingly frustrated by his inability to elicit any sign of discomfort from Troy.
Instead, the boy simply continued to count out the strokes, seemingly impervious to the beating that Callum was administering to Troy's now flaming ass-cheeks.
That wasn't what Callum wanted. He wanted Troy to be moaning in pain. He wanted him to cry like a little bitch having her tushy walloped. So, midway through Troy's punishment, Callum found himself increasing the force he used to slap the boy's butt, so determined to make Troy cry that he ignored the increasing pain of his own hand.
Just as the count hit thirty, Callum landed a particularly vicious slap and was rewarded when an involuntary groan escaped the boy's lips.
Three strokes later, Troy moaned again. Soon, the boy couldn't help himself. He was groaning on every stroke, even as the buttocks began to take on a purplish glow. Callum could see the tears in the boy's eyes, but he wanted them coursing down his face, he wanted Troy to cry his eyes out like a little faggot should when a real man was beating his ass.
But despite the fact that Callum was now pummeling Troy's ass with all the force he could muster, the boy was still refusing to cry.
Then the idea hit him. Callum had no clue why he thought of it, but suddenly he wondered whether the boy was close to cumming. Callum loosened his grip on the boy's scrotum and let his hand slide down Troy's hard dick. The shaft was slick with pre-cum, as Callum fingered the crown the boy's entire body shook. Callum had been right.
The little faggot was close to cumming.
Suddenly, Callum was consumed with the desire to make the lil cunt cum while Callum was spanking him. That would be so humiliating - shooting off a load while a man beat your ass to a pulp. Even a fag-boy like Troy would probably be embarrassed by something like that. So Callum started doing something he had never done before in his life - something he had never even considered doing before - jacking another dude off. Callum began stroking the boy's hard cock at a steady pace while he continued to thrash his ass. It was soon obvious that Callum's ministrations were having the desired effect.
He could feel Troy's dick throbbing in his hand and the slit was now leaking pre-cum in a single continuous flow. Suddenly, Troy turned his head towards Callum.
"Please.… don't," he softly begged. "Please."
That was all the incentive Callum needed. He really went to work on the boy's dick.
As he relentlessly drove Troy towards an orgasm, Callum achieved his original goal. The boy began to cry in humiliated frustration.
At this point nothing would deter Callum from forcing the faggot to pop-off a load. He stroked and massaged Troy's now super-sensitized cock with a vengeance and, just as Troy counted "Forty-nine," in a voice thick with tears, the boy's dick erupted with cum.
Troy began to sob uncontrollably as he writhed atop Callum's lap in the throes of the orgasm Callum had forced out of him, his cock spewing spurt after spurt of hot boy-cream all over the carpet underneath him. An incredible feeling of triumph suffused Callum.
The final stroke was pretty much an after-thought, though Troy obviously had to struggle to count it out and thank Callum for each one. When the full fifty had been administered, Troy lay quietly over Callum's lap for a moment, trying to regain some composure. Then, slowly, the pain obvious in his movements, Troy struggled back to his feet and turned to face Callum. While no longer sobbing aloud, the boy's face was still wet with his tears. With an obvious effort of will, Troy forced himself to look at Callum.
"I'm sorry for offending you, Callum," he managed to say and, after glancing quickly at Mr. Meyers, he added: "Thank you for spanking me."
Now that it was over - now that he was no longer in the moment - Callum was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable about what had happened. He had really done a number on Troy's ass.
Callum was actually a little shocked at how discolored and bruised it looked. He could feel the heat emanating from the boy's burning melons even though Troy was standing several feet away. From the way he moved, it was obvious that Troy was in considerable discomfort - just sitting down was going to be painful for the next few days. That didn't even take into consideration the obvious humiliation Troy had suffered when Callum had forced him to cum during the spanking.
Those effects were to be even more long-lasting than the physical damage inflicted on the boy's buttocks.
Callum tried to convince himself that Troy had deserved what had happened. He'd been coming on to Callum almost from the moment they met. Troy deserved to be punished. Although even Callum wondered if the punishment inflicted was perhaps harsher than necessary.
After all, Troy was just being Troy. A faggot like that probably couldn't help himself when he was around a sexy, real man like Callum. But he was a faggot, Callum told himself, and faggots needed to be put in their place. And he had certainly done that with Troy. The boy would definitely think twice before messing with Callum again.
They were both standing there, warily eyeing each other, when Mr. Meyers spoke up.
"You certainly made a mess of my carpet, Troy."
Looking up, Callum noticed that Mr. Meyers' gaze was fixed on the carpet. Strands and droplets of creamy boy-seed covered a wide area.
Troy looked at Mr. Meyers and apologized. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir."
"Well," Mr. Meyers responded, "you made the mess, you clean it up."
Troy's face noticeably colored. "Yes, sir," he said in a small voice. Then, to Callum's surprise, the boy dropped to his knees. It looked to Callum as if he was about to get on all fours when Mr. Meyers interrupted.
"Well, don't just look at it. Get a wash-cloth, Troy, and clean it up."
Troy glanced up at Mr. Meyers with his a look of surprise. Callum had the strong suspicion that the little pervert wanted to lick his own cum off the floor.
"Yes, sir," Troy replied, quickly getting to his feet and heading to the bathroom. He was back moments later with a damp cloth to remove the evidence of his orgasm. In just a couple minutes the carpet was clean, if somewhat damp. Troy went back to the bathroom to rinse out the now cum-laden cloth.
While Troy was doing that, Mr. Meyers told Callum to stand up and return the chair to its place along the wall. As he did so, the Agent walked around his desk again and sat down. The athletic model came back and stood in front of the desk where he was soon joined by an obviously chastened and still-nude Troy.
Mr. Meyers looked at the two of them for a few seconds and then returned to his inquiry as to what had happened in the bathroom between Callum and Troy as if nothing had intervened.
He looked at the two boys, standing in front of him, assuming the parade position again without thinking about it. Callum's cock was hard as steel, and Troy seemed to regain his own hardon.
"So, Troy," Meyers said. "You said that you stuck two fingers up Callum's asshole."
"Yes, sir, I did," admitted Troy. "I was applying suntan lotion to Callum's....rectal lining," he argued by way of justification. "I wanted to be sure that no unprotected areas were exposed while Callum was working on tanning his ass-crack."
Callum was expecting Mr. Meyers to reject this obvious fabrication out of hand so he was surprised to hear the man respond "Well, that makes sense." "But, sir," Callum complained, "his fingers were way up my asshole. There's no way I was going to get sunburned up there."
Mr. Meyers looked back and forth between Callum and his assistant. Finally, he turned to Troy.
"Go get the suntan lotion," he ordered.
As Troy left to comply with Mr. Meyers orders, the man turned to Callum.
"I need to see exactly what happened, so turn around and assume the position you were in while Troy was applying the lotion."
Callum could feel himself getting red as he turned around, bent over and then reached behind himself and spread his ass-cheeks wide apart. It was a pretty humiliating position to be assuming in front of any man, particularly Mr. Meyers.
Troy had returned with the suntan lotion and positioned himself right next to Callum's spread ass.
"Okay, Troy," Mr. Meyers directed. "Coat your fingers with the lotion and show me what happened!”
Callum groaned as first one and then a second finger was inserted up his ass. Mr. Meyers just watched for a good two minutes as Troy worked his fingers inside of Callum's hole. It was soo demeaning as Mr. Meyers watched Troy basically finger-fuck Callum's butt.
Finally, the Agent asked Callum if he now felt different. Troy was now doing what he had done in the bathroom.
"Yes, sir," Callum quickly affirmed, shocked that Mr. Meyers let Troy continue to finger him for so long. But then he was thunderstruck when Mr. Meyers declared:
"Well, I don't see what your problem is, Callum."
"But, sir," Callum complained, "Troy's got two fingers way up my butt!"
"Yes, he does," Meyers agreed, looking at Troy's two fingers wedged tightly into Callum's hole. "But he needs to make sure that the upper area of your rectum does not get sunburned. That would be incredibly painful for you - far more painful than having a pair of fingers massaging your back-hole."
Callum, bent over and holding his ass-cheeks open, could not see the faces of Meyers and Troy. The younger man looked almost smug, while the older carefully tried to adjust his raging hardon.
Meyers knew it was too early to push Callum down and fuck him. Instead, he concentrated on Callum and the subtle brainwashing of the sexy, dumb, hunk.
"How would that area ever get sunburned?" Callum asked plaintively. "There's no way that my asshole is going to be exposed to the sun."
"That's where you're wrong, Callum," Mr. Meyers immediately corrected him. "You're going to be spending a good amount of time on the roof on your stomach, working on tanning your ass. As we've already discussed, it's absolutely essential that your ass-crack be as tanned as the rest of your body. With your big, muscular, bubble-butt, the only way your ass-crack is going to be exposed to the sun is if you hold your cheeks far apart, just like you're doing now.
But when you do that, you stretch out your anal rosette - I can see that clearly from here and that will allow sunlight to hit the upper part of your anal passage. If that area isn't coated with suntan lotion you could well get a nasty burn. Troy was just being careful. He wasn't doing anything wrong. You were the one at fault."
Troy smiled lewdly behind his back, while Callum groaned, realizing his mistake.
Callum could feel his face burning as he heard Mr. Meyers' words.
He was the one who had been in the wrong. His actions had precipitated the entire scene in Mr. Meyers office, and the Agent now concluded that Troy hadn't been doing anything wrong when he'd stuck two of his fingers up Callum's virginal butt-hole.
A part of Callum just couldn't believe what he was hearing, but another part wondered whether he had overreacted, whether he'd been too quick to assume that Troy was taking advantage of him. It sure didn't feel right - the way Troy's fingers were stuck so far up his butt - but Mr. Meyers who could clearly see how they penetrated his hole from where he was sitting, convinced that it was Callum who was at fault.
A minute later, he heard Meyers tell Troy to remove his fingers from Callum's 'hole.' The young assistant immediately did as he was told. Slowly, Callum straightened up and then turned around to face Mr. Meyers. Seeing the look of obvious disapproval on the man's face made Callum feel even worse. "I'm sorry, sir," Callum quickly offered.
"Troy is the one you should apologize to," Mr. Meyers said pointedly.
Callum turned to the still nude receptionist who was standing just a few feet away from him, his flaming ass still exuding heat from the battering Callum had administered to it.
"I'm sorry, Troy," Callum said, feeling very much ill-at-ease.
Troy looked at him with a mixture of anger and triumph in his eyes and just stared at Callum.
It was obvious that he had no intention of acknowledging Callum's apology until Mr. Meyers expressly told him to respond.
It was clear that Troy had to force the words out and that he didn't believe them for a moment.
"That's okay, Callum. I accept your apology."
Then, turning to look Callum straight in the face, he added, "but you should have asked me why I was doing it and I would have explained that to you. You should have asked."
"Yes, Callum," Mr. Meyers immediately agreed. "You should have asked Troy. Instead, you assumed the worst and responded accordingly. If you had asked Troy we all might have avoided this unpleasantness."
Callum looked at Mr. Meyers and then back at Troy. He did not realize that Meyers projected what he had done himself onto Callum, he too had not asked what caused Callum’s outburst. Instead he had ordered punishment without having all the answers.
Callum was nervous, and he did not think. He did not realize his Boss' mistake, and he certainly did not discuss it with Mr. Meyers. He thought he had clearly screwed up and, despite all his best efforts, had disappointed Mr. Meyers and possibly jeopardized his modeling career.
He knew he had to somehow try to save the situation. So, tamping down an upsurge of fear, he spoke up.
"I'm sorry, Sir, for my actions." Then, taking a deep breath he continued, "if you think I need to be disciplined, sir, I'm willing to accept my punishment."
Next page