“The Wild Side? And it’s a club? What sort of club?” Jarvis asked, after Angus McCloud
had introduced himself and explained he was the owner of this illustrious establishment.
“I’ll make no bones about it – a sex club – a gay sex club – a gay BDSM sex club to
give it the full description – where the members are all extremely wealthy men, or
personal friends who have done me a great favour – there’re only a few of the last type,
but I’ll hopefully be adding one more for the next two months.”
“So you want me to work there and sell my ass for money?” asked Jarvis, sounding more
than a little put out. But he wasn’t totally appalled at the notion despite his next
protestation. “And why do you think I would want to do that?” he snapped. “I plan to be a
slut, but that doesn’t mean to say I want to work as a bottom whore.”
“Don’t be too hasty, lad. Hear me out,” answered the voice of Angus McCloud. “Now, I
can’t deny that I’m impressed by what I saw. You’re a good looking lad and have a very
fine arse - most of my members would definitely pay to have a go at it. But I’ve got more
than enough house slaves to keep their cocks happy when they want some straightforward
sex. The thing is though, Jarvis – The Wild Side offers a lot more than just fucking tidy
arses. You have to understand - a night at The Wild Side is a thrill filled adventure, and
that means there’s more than just prime young flesh on show and available for use. My
members want to be entertained in extreme and novel ways, so new forms are constantly
being offered. And I have to cater for a wide variety of deviant tastes. I know it all
sounds a bit seedy, but trust me - it’s a very classy place – not some cheap brothel. And
I can assure you, there are thousands of lads who would give their right arm to work
there. But I only take the best – and for one particular job, I would definitely take
you.”
It was all a bit much for Jarvis to take in. A couple of hours ago he was in the
library dreaming of his first sexual encounter. Now he was sitting beside his hunky
teacher who had come up his ass and come in his mouth; a man who had caned his bare
buttocks, taken his virginity then fucked him so well. That in itself was mind boggling.
But to then find out that all of this was done in front of a camera, watched live by some
unknown man! That was truly shocking. Jarvis found the notion strangely abhorrent. And now
that man was offering him a job in some high class sex club. There was an element of
appeal. Getting paid to have sex could be a lot more fun than working in an office. But
sex with who – that was the issue? He wanted to fool around with hot horny studs – men
like Mr. Baxter. Surely men who paid for it weren’t like him. Jarvis looked to his teacher
for some support. Lee gave him a reassuring nod of his head.
“It sounds a very interesting place,” replied Jarvis honestly then he threw up another
objection. “But I’m sorry – I don’t want to be a rent boy, even a well paid one... I want
to go to university – that’s if I get the grades.”
“That’s fine! It’s perfect in fact!” Angus shouted down the line, ignoring for the
time being the first of Jarvis’s concerns. “The job is for three months only, beyond that,
I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t be fresh enough for the role I have in mind. Three months –
and I’m sure you’d have a blast. And listen Jarvis - you could earn enough cash to put you
through college, and still have a tidy sum stashed away to start you off when you
graduate.”
Now that grabbed Jarvis’s attention. It was sounding more and more interesting – but
there was still that lingering question. “So what would I have to do if not sell my ass?”
asked Jarvis suspiciously.
“Just be yourself,” said Angus. “For the rest of the summer, carry on being what you
are at present: an English public schoolboy. Some of my members have been crying out for
one. The genuine article of course – a lot of them have been through the system and they
would spot a fake a mile off. I want a real English public schoolboy – one who can talk
the talk and walk the walk. And of course he has to be as cute as pie with a cracker of an
arse – and you fit the bill perfectly a far as I can see. I want an old school tie, a cap,
and short trousers perhaps. You’ve got all the gear – we’d try everything out and see what
works the best.”
“You mean you just want me to wander around the club dress up in my school uniform?”
“Don’t be daft!” Angus chortled as he prepared to tackle the stickier issue. “I expect
more than some posing – I want you to perform.”
“So you do want me to sell my ass! I knew it!”
“Calm down, will you!” growled Angus. “Stop pretending to be so puritanical. You’ve no
cause to be acting so high and mighty after that sluttish performance I just saw. Now I
won’t deny that it would make you more valuable to me if you were to include ‘selling your
ass’ as you so subtly put it. But it’s not a show stopper if you won’t, although your arse
does have to feature... You see Jarvis, I have a special room where some of my more
discerning members like to watch or engage in a particular fetish.”
“A special room!” exclaimed Jarvis somewhat shocked. “What – for schoolboys!”
Angus laughed, knowing fine well what Jarvis was thinking. “Not for schoolboys!” he
assured. “Only legal-aged adults work at the club. Eighteen and over – that’s the rule,
and I always abide by it. No, Jarvis – the room’s not for schoolboys as such. The room is
where various forms of spanking take place.”
“A spanking room! Good Lord!”
“That’s right: a spanking room – where men take pleasure in spanking other men, or in
watching the act being performed.”
“You mean spanking them with their hand – like Mr. Baxter did to me?”
“Hmmph! That’s certainly a popular one. I enjoy it myself from time to time, putting a
lad over my lap and walloping his bare ass with the palm of my hand. You said so yourself,
it’s very intimate, especially if you take the time to give the buttocks a good feel in
between the smacks. But spanking can take many forms, Jarvis. A spanking involves striking
the buttocks repeatedly, either with your hand, or with some implement – like a cane,
which is the English school tradition. In American schools they used a paddle, and still
do in quite a few of the Southern States. In Scottish schools it was the tawse - a leather
strap the teachers used for corporal punishment. That was applied to the hand – but there
were plenty of fathers, including my own, who took a belt to their son’s bare arse. In
France they used a martinet, a sort of short whip with a wooden handle. There are lots
different things you can use, each having its own special effect. I could go on and on.
It’s quite a fascinating subject.”
“Lord!” muttered Jarvis, totally intrigued. The prospect of working at this club was
getting much more appealing. Even if the men were unattractive, it wouldn’t bother him to
be caned by them, even on his bare ass. He had wished the headmaster had taken such a
liberty and Jarvis certainly hadn’t fancied that old codger. Perhaps this could turn out
all right.
“And there are so many ways a lad can be spanked,” continued Angus McCloud, who was an
authority on the subject and an accomplished exponent of the art. “Covered or bare arsed;
across the man’s lap, one or both knees, or bending half over like you were when you were
caned. The Americans normally have the schoolboys holding their ankles, or leaning on a
bench for a locker room spanking. Sometimes the lad being spanked is restrained in some
way – like tied to a bed. And there are a whole variety of restraining devices
specifically designed for that purpose. They were used mainly in prisons and reform
schools when corporal punishment was legal. Of course now they’re used mainly by deviant
men – and I’ve got a whole range of equipment at the club... I’d very much like to see you
try a few out and have that lovely arse of yours spanked in a whole variety of ways.”
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