Unwholesome Things - Part 3

Beta by LP, all remaining mistakes are entirely my fault.

“Sir, Mr. Diaz is here,” Norman said over the intercom.

Wonderful.

Norman had agreed to warn him when Diaz arrived. It gave Oren just enough time to look like he hadn't spent the last few hours nervously waiting for his arrival.

“Come in,” Oren said when the knock came.

“Hello, Mr. Gilby.” Diaz set his backpack next to the door.

“Don't call me that.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Diaz's lip tugged upwards as if amused by some thought.

“Oren,” he said before Diaz decided to voice whatever it was.

“Alright.” Diaz smiled. “Then you can call me Rezo.”

Now that they were on a first name basis it was almost like he had a friend. Only not.

“I thought your name was longer?”

“Rezalino.”

Oren shrugged, his curiosity fading. “The drawings are on the desk.”

“Did you go for a walk every morning?” Rezo asked as he approached the papers. Oren was beginning to have some regrets about how he'd handled Diaz's assignment, but it was too late now to change tactics.

“Sure, I went for walks.” Around the house, from the bed to the shower and other things of that nature. “So is your plan to micromanage my life eternally, or just today?”

Rezo ignored him. “What did you read?”

“Adult magazines.”

“You read a hundred pages of that?”

“My hand did get tired after a while, but—” Oren couldn't help it: he laughed. He'd wanted to hold out longer, but Rezo's expression was too amusing. “No. I read The Sorority Zombie Slaughter.”

“That's better…I guess.” Rezo's eyes shifted to the first sketch. “Ah.” He frowned down at it.

Oren's stomach felt suddenly weightless. “You said still life—” Oren stopped, there was no reason to defend himself. The deed was finished. Unsettling Rezo had been his intent, even if now that he was waiting for Rezo's reaction he was feeling unsettled himself.

“So, did you just happen to have a used condom lying around, or did you create one especially for this purpose?”

“I don't leave used condoms lying around, that would be unsanitary.” He'd never used a condom at all, but he did have an unused one and the power of imagination.

“Ah.” Rezo's expression was unreadable, but Oren imagined this only confirmed how promiscuous he thought Oren was.

Oren was disappointed by how quickly Rezo set down the next drawing. He had expected that particular toy to generate some kind of response.

Rezo examined the last sketch. “Nice. I appreciate that.”

The sudden sarcasm made Oren's stomach go from weightless to plummeting. His eyes met Rezo's over the top of the paper and Rezo's expression was dark enough to cause Oren to take a step back.

“It's just a book.”

“And its title just happened to be G.T.F.O.: Reclaiming the Home That's Rightfully Yours? Did you already own that or did you buy it just for me?”

“You said I could pick anything.” Oren's usually flippant attitude was reduced to a mere shadow of its former self.

“You made it obvious with the first two pictures that you were trying to get under my skin. But there was no reason for you to be this hateful.”

“It was just a joke. Don't get so upset.” Oren never would have thought Rezo was so sensitive.

“'Wasn't that the whole point in drawing these, or picking a book that says 'Get The Fuck Out' on the cover? Well you succeeded. You're about to get a serious reaction out of me. Congratulations.”

This was going badly. Oren wasn't sure how he had expected things to go, but he'd been aiming to provoke more irritation than retaliation.

“Get the hairbrush or some other paddle type thing and don't even think about playing any games about not being able to find something. I'm not going to tolerate this racist bullshit from you. I'm not an illegal immigrant, but so what if I was? We're all the same to you, whatever we are, right?”

What? Oren wasn't sure if he was more startled to hear Rezo accuse him of racism or to hear him use profanity (somehow the threat of being beaten wasn't surprising at all). What did the book have to do with illegal immigrants? He hadn't considered that Rezo might have come from Mexico. Oren looked hard at Rezo's features and…he still had no idea what ethnicity the other man was. Either his ignorance was boundless or maybe he was somewhat racist. He didn't mean to be.

“That didn't even occur to me. I just saw the title and it reminded me of you invading my house, that's all. Just a really stupid joke.”

“You've got to the count of five to get a paddle. One.”

“Come on, stop counting. Look, I'm sorry I said horrible things the first time we met. I was just angry and I didn't mean it.”

“Two.”

“Is there anyway I can make you believe me?”

“Three. Show me the book.”

Oren's blood froze in his veins.

“Um…”

“Four and—”

“Alright, alright. Hold on.”

Oren grabbed his ereader and began to search for the title. When he found an image of the cover he enlarged it and handed it to Rezo.

“G.T.F.O.: Reclaiming the Heart That's Rightfully Yours.” Rezo looked at it in confusion.

“It's a guide to ending toxic relationships. I changed the title to fit our situation, the immigration innuendo never occurred to me at all.”

“Ah.” Rezo actually seemed embarrassed.

“Maybe I deserve to be spanked for not taking your assignment seriously, but I don't deserve to be paddled for racism.” Oren was amazed that his life had to come to a point where he was willing to negotiate how he was going to be beaten.

Rezo said nothing. He looked like he was still recovering from the misunderstanding. Even though Oren had just won a minor battle, he still found the silence repressive.

“It wasn't my fault that I didn't take it seriously. You had no right to give me instructions.”

“To what extent did you not follow my instructions?”

Oren sighed.

“That bad?” Rezo's wasn't at all dissuaded by Oren's glare. “May as well get your conscience cleared since you're being punished anyway.”

“This better not be a trick.” Oren looked at Rezo for a moment as if gauging his motivations. “I only went walking in the house, I don't like going outside, so I couldn't do that part. I did read the book, although…”

“Although…?”

“I read it before you asked me to. I do read a lot, so I don't need encouragement with that. And it was your fault, you made me too upset to concentrate.” Oren was shocked to hear himself confess everything. Although maybe it was better to be honest since he was almost certain to get a spanking no matter what at this point.

“So you didn't really do anything I asked you to do. Then you drew offensive pictures, forged the title of a book to irritate me and lied to me about what you did and didn't do.”

It sounded much worse the way he said it. “It's just…I'm an adult. I shouldn't have assignments.”

“Adults have assignments. Work assignments, college assignments, one day you'll be married and your spouse will give you assignments.”

“I'm never getting married.”

“I'm trying to help you. You stay in your room, you have no friends, and you're not in college.”

“That's just me. I'm a naturally miserable person.”

Rezo was looking at him in a way that made him uncomfortable.

“Are you still going to paddle me?”

“I've been too lenient with you. The way you've behaved is clearly a cry for help. Those drawings in particular were obviously your way of telling me that you want stricter discipline.”

“Maybe I'm just too much of a pervert to take notice of normal objects. Ever think of that?

“Take off your jeans.”

Oren groaned. Sighing was no longer adequate.

“Can't we skip this part?”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

Slowly Oren undid his jeans, he pushed them down over his hips while Rezo watched. The worst part was how indifferent Rezo looked. He was probably straight and thought of Oren as some kind of project person. As someone to reform to save the young men of the future from a dirty old man. Oren stepped out of his pants and stood in his boxers and shirt. There was something very wrong with his wiring, whenever he felt embarrassed or nervous he immediately became aroused. While his body might like what was happening, his mind had a very different opinion on the matter.

This time, instead of grabbing his arm, Rezo took Oren's hand to lead him over to the bed. Oren was incredibly aware of every place where their skin touched. It amazed him that he could still be attracted to Rezo after all that had happened.

Rezo sat down on the bed and guided Oren over his lap so that his weight was supported by the bed. After he was in place Rezo tugged Oren's boxers down around his thighs.

For the first time since he had met the other man, Oren felt like his punishment was warranted. There were so many ways he could have avoided this if he had behaved a little differently. Oren covered his face with his hands in misery.

“I think what you need is to be thoroughly spanked, not just given a few token swats.”

Token swats? Rezo might think that was all he'd given, but that certainly wasn't what Oren had received.

“You're hard enough on me.”

“No, I think you're yearning for catharsis.”

“Is that some kind of new age thing? Because I'm really not—”

“Greek. Old. A cleansing of emotions.”

“Um…”

Rezo brought the palm of his hand down hard on Oren's left cheek.

Oren winced at the sting. Rezo smacked Oren's right cheek just as hard. Rezo continued alternating sides and within seconds Oren was suppressing the urge to squirm. It didn't feel like Rezo was holding anything back, and he was quickly and rhythmically covering a lot of territory.

Oren tried to reposition himself to make a less abused area take the brunt of the punishment, but there didn't seem to be any such place left. Oren tried rocking his hips to change the angle, but Rezo responded by using his free arm to pin Oren down. Once Oren was unable to even remotely shift his position, Rezo began concentrating all of his effort on one small spot where Oren's ass met his thighs.

Rezo was relentless, his hand felt like a brand burning into the same flesh over and over. Oren gasped at the sudden increase in pain. He'd never focused on one area before. It was clear he was determined to make an impression by making this hurt as much as possible.

“Rezo—I think you've hit that spot enough.”

Oren got no response. He tried to struggle free, but Rezo's grip was too firm.

“Ok, I can't take anymore of this.”

“You'll take as much as I want to give.”

“Don't hit there, hit somewhere else.” This was deliberate cruelty.

Oren felt panic surging inside him. Even though it did nothing to help him, he began to kick and struggle as hard as he could. He fought to get a hand free to block Rezo's devastating swing, but Rezo swept his arm up and secured it firmly behind Oren's back.

Rezo switched his focus to the parallel area on Oren's other cheek, attacking it just as ruthlessly.

The constant battering to the sensitive area was unbearable. Oren no longer cared how he sounded—not even when he resorted to begging. Nor did he care when he felt the first tear escape into the sheets.

Rezo's palm continued its assault, not relenting even when Oren was reduced to wordless sobbing. Finally, long after he had given up hope of it ever ending, Rezo stopped. He slid out from under Oren and folded the bed spread over Oren's lower half.

Oren felt Rezo move away, but he ignored him. Instead he reached back to feel his bottom. It was still throbbing and burning as if the beating had never stopped. Oren had never felt more wretched than he did in this moment. Rezo had meant it when he said he was going to be thorough. He hadn't just spanked him, he'd practically destroyed him. Oren had cried so much the bed sheets were cold and wet beneath his face.

Glancing toward Rezo, Oren saw that he was now sitting at Oren's desk looking at something in his backpack. He stopped to flex his right hand as if it was stiff.

“I have another idea to give you something to do,” Rezo said, his tone unforgivably casual.

“Oh god not another list.” Oren hid his face in the wet sheets. If only they could shelter him from Rezo's ideas.

Rezo said nothing, but Oren heard him set down his backpack and approach the bed.

“Please no more!” Oren jerked his body into a kneeling position (sitting was out of the question) and gathered the blankets around him like some kind of quilted armor.

“I'm not coming over to spank you.” Rezo sat down on the edge of the bed. “I want you to meet me after class tomorrow. I'll introduce you to the guys that work out at the park.”

Oren didn't answer immediately. “That's not a good idea.”

“It'll be fine. You'll meet me tomorrow, and you'll find other things to do. I meant what I said about you needing to leave the house more. You could even bring your sketch pad and draw something new. It would be good for you.”

“I don't really like to draw anymore.” Although not as much as he disliked the idea of going to the park.

“You're good at it, so your interest will return.”

“You certainly didn't like my drawings.”

“Are you trying to be difficult?”

“No,” Oren said quickly.

“Good, because my hand is really sore. Next time I'll have to figure out where you hid that brush.”

Oren couldn't bring himself to respond to that.

“Meet me at the picnic benches at 5:15.”

“But—”

“I'll see you then.” Rezo scooped up his backpack and left.

Kneeling in his tangle of sheets and contradictory thoughts, Oren didn't move for a very long time.

* * *

It was 5:12. Oren wasn't technically late yet, but even if he left now it would be impossible to get to the park on time. It was a strange feeling, the wait between an action and its inevitable reaction. Like the thoughts of a jumper that arise between the rooftop and the ground.

He'd never agreed to meet him there, but Rezo had refused to listen. Not that he'd care, and Oren would be the one punished for that. He'd had mixed feelings about the spanking yesterday, but today he didn't feel like he deserved one at all.

Oren felt only slightly guilty when he directed the binoculars towards the park. After all, Rezo was practically forcing him to do it.

It took twenty minutes after they were set to meet before Rezo gave up. He stood, shouldered his bag, waved to his friends and began the ever terrifying walk toward Oren's house.

Oren stood the binoculars on their end on the window sill. There would be no point in denying it. Rezo was sure to be angry enough about being stood up—what was one more transgression?

Oren picked up his phone (that he'd finally located and charged).

“Hey,” he said when Norman answered. “Just send him up when he get's here.”

“Mr. Diaz? Of course, sir, I—”

Oren hung up. He didn't feel like talking. He opened his bedroom door so he wouldn't have to answer it. He returned to sit on the window sill beside his binoculars, leaning the back of his head against the cool glass.

When Rezo entered the room it was almost a relief.

“Either beat me and leave or just leave, whatever you're going to do just get it over with,” Oren said before Rezo had a chance to speak.

Rezo contemplated Oren for a long moment before turning back toward the door. Oren felt a sudden ache in his chest. He was shocked to discover he didn't want him to leave. He'd never thought he could be that lonely. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and concentrated on not saying or doing anything that would betray his thoughts.

Oren relaxed his hands when he heard the door close. But a moment later his eyes snapped open at a sound he didn't expect. It was the soft thud of Rezo setting his backpack by the door. But any relief Oren felt was promptly squashed when Rezo picked up the chair from the desk and carried it over to Oren.

Why did the alternative to Rezo leaving have to be a spanking? The chair had been the worst position so far, not only because it was humiliating, but also because it made all the blood rush to his head. Oren was already regretting his earlier suggestion to “get it over with.”

Rezo took a seat in the chair. “What's wrong?”

The genuine concern in his voice startled Oren. “What did you say?”

“You didn't show up and now you're obviously upset. What happened?”

“Maybe I'm just too fucked up to go out in public.”

“What are you talking about?” Rezo sounded more confused than angry.

“I told you I couldn't go, but you ignored me.” Oren dropped his gaze to hands he couldn't seem to stop wringing. “There's no way I can let you introduce me to the guys I drew pictures of.”

“Ah.”

“Not wanting to be publicly humiliated is a perfectly valid reason to not want to go. I don't socialize well anyway, and I'm not going to start with guys that already think I'm strange and perverted.”

“My friends are reasonably open minded. They might give you a hard time, but they won't mean anything by it.”

“People don't just get over things like that.”

“I did.”

“Why are you being so understanding about this?”

“Am I not a very understanding person?”

Oren looked up and saw Rezo was smiling.

“Well, no—not exactly. Usually if I disagree with anything you just smack me around until I give in.”

The smile turned into a grin. “That's not how it works.”

“That is exactly how it works.”

“In that case, I'd like to try again on Thursday. Will you go or do I have to smack you around first?”

Oren smiled despite himself. “I still don't want to go.”

“How about if I meet you here and we walk there together?”

“I guess…” Oren still didn't like the idea.

“Good, because if I have to keep smacking you around the way I did yesterday, you're going to wear me out.”

“Poor you.”

“So the only real infraction today was the binoculars,” Rezo said cheerfully.

“Wait—”

“I know, you only did it to see who was at the park.”

“So that means you're not going to spank me, right?”

“Rules are rules.”

“That's not fair.” Oren got to his feet and quickly maneuvered so the desk was between himself and Rezo.

“So that's how it's going to be.” Rezo stood and pushed his sleeves back.

“Stay away—I'm serious.”

Rezo approached slowly, and Oren felt like he was being stalked. Like Rezo had morphed into some kind of large cat—a man-eating lion or tiger or whatever else would be capable of doing an unreasonable amount of harm to his body.

Oren refused to let this day end with him receiving yet another spanking. It was getting ridiculous. It was as if some god of lust had sat idly by for years while Oren prayed for an Adonis to playfully swat him once or twice before giving him the time of his carnal life, only to bless him with repeat, non-sexual thrashings while letting him remain a virgin.

Oren made a dash for the door, for once grateful there was no lock to slow him down, but Rezo grabbed him by the arm before he could open it.

Oren spun, shoving at him, but instead of winning his freedom, he found himself lying on the ground, pinned beneath the larger man. He could feel the heat of him—could feel Rezo's heart beating through his shirt. Those sensations, and the weight of Rezo on top of him, were enough to trigger an absolutely inappropriate response from Oren's body.

“You're making this harder on yourself,” Rezo said, trying to roll Oren onto his stomach.

There was no way Oren was going to let that happen. In this close of a proximity to Rezo his bottom was in serious peril. He pressed himself into the carpet, determined to keep his backside safely out of range of Rezo's hand.

Rezo tried to turn him over for a few more moments before it became obvious how much Oren was resisting. Rezo began to laugh.

“Do you have any dignity left at all?”

“Just how much dignity would I have being turned over your knee and spanked?”

“True. May as well get it over with then.”

“Fuck off.” Oren was more exasperated than angry. He suspected Rezo's strength would triumph over his will power eventually.

“Don't speak like that to me,” Rezo said, suddenly serious.

His tone frightened some of Oren's defiance into remission. “I’m sorry,” Oren said quickly.

Rezo changed his grip and succeeded in turning him face down. Oren was getting quite the tour of spanking positions. He'd been over the edge of a bed, across a man's lap, and now was being stretched out on the floor. Next stop the Berkley Horse, the birching bench, and the pillory.

“You've earned it and you know it.”

Rezo brought his hand down firmly across the seat of Oren's jeans. Oren yelped and jumped in what was becoming a programmed response, even though it was actually probably the lightest swat he'd ever received.

Rezo gave him three stinging, but not unbearable, blows before rolling off of Oren.

Oren rubbed his bottom as he moved to stand by his desk. He needed some distance, all that manhandling and the modest amount of brutality was still having an effect on him. While it stung, it had failed to banish his hard on, if anything it was more insistent than ever.

This would have to be his secret. It would benefit him in no way if Rezo realized the effect such a mild punishment had on him.

“I have studying to do now, and a tutoring session set up for tomorrow, so you better behave until Thursday.”

“Whatever.”

“See you later.”

Oren ignored him, even though part of him was looking forward to it. Slightly.

It didn't mean that he liked Rezo or anything. Although his opinion of him had improved by how Rezo had handled today. Of course, all Rezo had done was talk him into an embarrassing social encounter and give him a mild spanking for using his own binoculars. Apparently Oren's standards were sinking to a new low.

But he wasn't going to think about that right now. Now that Rezo was gone, Oren was about to do some things with Mr. Diaz (in his mind of course) that were anything but well behaved. 

Chapter Four
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