Johnny

After the excesses of my heavy duty "Purple Prose" epic - which readers indulged most kindly - I had another "What if?" moment.

The light-breeze shorty below employs simple sentences, few big words, a song, and a boy.

"Boy" and "Boi" in stories here and elsewhere do not mean a male of low chronological age but an inexperienced one of submissive nature. So, no minds in kindergarten, please.

For reference, read Guile or Innocence Chapter 3.

Mind you, there is a cock cage here below.

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Johnny

Still wearing his special belt, Johnny sat, eyes shut, on the side of his bed. He pressed the lock’s button with his thumb, heard the snap, and let the cock cage fall off. 

Nothing about that was unusual for a lad who wanted to work as he did. A friend of a friend knew someone who did work – as a hireling for men who paid to supervise behavior.

If only! 

Johnny had spent what he could afford from his allowance to mail-order the belt and attachable cock cage. The hours he spent wearing them in private heightened his desire for a man. 

He looked over the metal-and-plastic object, put it to his nose, then with his laundry. 

Too small now. Cramps my cock and balls. I’m ready for the next size.

Fantasy involved with shackles crawled into his thoughts. Who could he turn to? To be bound and made to suck, to be force-fucked – he’d seen that in porn videos. The subs seemed transfixed by being under a man’s menacing management.

Apart from the vision in his imagination was the sight of his recently liberated penis. It stood at attention, aching for a rub-out. If so much as touched, it would fire off, Johnny knew. That had happened every time he took off the cage. 

If I had a man to lock me tight and abuse my mouth, my butt, I would impress him with my dedication. I’d let him take his time. 

A toe nudged the abandoned cage. The new one had room for Johnny’s adolescent parts to complete their growth, but he desired someone do the job of putting them in it. 

No risk – it had a similar lock control.

“Always have an out,” he had read Youngman’s online advice to another seeker after sexy pain. 

Youngman, known only by the single name, enjoyed – in fact, was celebrated – as a whore. An often-visited site online touted his notoriety. Plus, it had a feature, CONTACT. 

Without mentioning his age, Johnny wrote an adult-sounding e-mail to ask how a novice sub who lusted for first-hand experience might locate a suitable top into light bondage and discipline. 

Youngman’s reply arrived two days later.

Dear John: I get referrals these days, but recall what it was like for me ‘before.’ There’s a difference. You see, sex had taken me into its fold already. I was not a virgin when a man spanked me. Not a lot. My butt liked it – so the sex was good. We did more of it. I got used to him and another guy he introduced me to practicing spank-first-then-fuck on me. Real fun. Try one of the gay spank hookup sites. Maybe post there a snapshot of your untrammeled butt. Ask for guys to tell you what they’d want to do with it, then choose to meet the one you think best. Bet you’ll have a good time. Best, best – Youngman.

 Johnny tried with his cellphone. He really tried. Just couldn’t manage what he couldn’t see. Half a cheek. His backbone. The bottom of his butt but a lot of his legs. Squatting with the cellular held underneath: a blurry close-up of half of his hole

The doorbell rang twice. Johnny spotted his mental-central-casting’s Postman Brown and peeked around the crack he made in the door.

“Hi, I’ve a package for your neighbor, Mr. Mandill – I mean, Mandrill. Needs a signature. Would you sign for it and give to him when he’s home, you know, later – so I can finish my route?”

“Sure, Mr. Brown. Say, would you do me a quick favor?”

“If it’s quick. I’m on a tight schedule. What?”

“Use my cell and take a few pictures of me – back here.” He turned his pink boyish tush doorward.

His mailbag deposited with dispatch, Postman Brown knelt for the task requested but said, “Johnny, the sun’s too bright here. Washes out the details. I’d better come inside.” 

The boy’s swishy way of showing off his ass-tribute annoyed the postman. He placed the cellphone on the family’s cocktail table. Made a rumbling sound as he sat in the nearest armchair. 

“Boys who act like girls get spanked.”

“And then?”

“To take proper effect, spankings need to be drilled in.” 

“Will this pretty butt be appropriate?”

 “Keep wiggling it like that and find out.”

“Me, over your lap?” – the question posed with a toothy grin.

“Sit on it first. My scratchy wool pants will tickle your fancy.”

“It’s tickling my dickie.”

“That’s because you’re already face down.”

“And it’s better now because you’re exploring your target.”

A songful wonder sprang from Johnny’s clear throat:

Zip-a-dee-doo-me, Zip-a-dee-Whee!
My, oh, my, what a wonderful day 

Plenty of hot stuff headin' my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay!

Mister Mailman’s on my tail
It's the truth, it's "actch'll"
Ev’rything is "satisfactch'll"

Zip-a-dee-doo-me, zip-a-dee-Whee!
Wonderful feeling, wonderful lay!

Holiday fireworks went off – Bim! Bam! Kapow! – Postman Brown’s hand flying high, landing low. For some while. 

Unsunned white hiney turned sunburn bright. 

The spank hand’s middle finger found, felt, and finagled its way into fundament. “Your temperature on the outside’s warmer than in here. Time to match this to that.”

Discipline of the dick did the deed – Jam! Ram! Bippity-bobbity-boo! Our little Johnny got a very fine screw. 

And faded. Fell asleep. Woke hours later. Yawned and stretched. Had a reality check.

It was all a dream! The best dream of my life. OMG, the best. 

Getting up, he stepped on the cock cage. That hurt.

On his feet in the bathroom at the commode, as he voided himself to the fore something trickled from his aft. He twisted to view his backside in the mirror opposite.

His butt glowed red.

I must write Youngman!

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