Montmartre

by Jim-Piston

Author’s note: This is about a part of life in Paris experienced by a friend during his junior year abroad. It’s Alan’s story, pretty much as he told it to me.

And an acknowledgment: Thanks to Tim Anders for making me improve my telling of the story.

[1]

I’d read about the place on the Internet and in the Paris guidebooks.

I knew it was a gay cabaret. But also that it was more than that, at least by reputation. The place had existed for a long time, even been featured in several novels. The novels painted it as rather more illicit than what the guidebooks described.

Standing in front of it, I could only imagine what really happened inside. The guidebooks talked about it from a tourist’s viewpoint, mostly just touting its risqué floor show. But there was a life in the back rooms that the dance routines just hinted at. Some posts on the Internet were explicit about what went on.

The descriptions had fascinated me. Oh, I knew you couldn’t trust the Internet posts, but they titillated me just the same. I’d come to Paris fresh from the first couple of years of a French-Lit undergrad course, full of images of Rimbaud meandering through sex-obsessed absinthe mists with Verlaine, seeking the ’illuminations’ for which he became so famous. In his own words ...

Now I am going in for debauch. ...
The poet is truly a thief of fire. -- Rimbaud, Letters (tr. Varèse)

I’d only read his work in translation, but had been fascinated by the fire of his brief life. In my naive imagination, what went on in the cabaret’s back rooms somehow seemed a modern-day equivalent --at least for the sex, if not the absinthe.

In my hubris, I sought the same illuminations, but didn’t know how to achieve them. The rooms seemed unattainable, to a foreign student like me. I had no idea how to open the doors, even if I’d had the money it normally took.

.

I wasn’t standing in front of it as a tourist, now. I’d run out of funds from home, needed money, and had realized there was more than one way of getting inside.

I’d read on the Internet that guys working in the cabaret sometimes made as much as a hundred Euros a night in tips. While the sources were vague as to what the tips were for, they were clearly not just for waiting on tables; the tourists who came for the floor shows weren’t in that class of big spenders. The tips obviously came from what went on afterwards, in those elusive private rooms.

The more I thought about it, the more the idea of earning money that way turned me on. I’d finally find out what that kind of life was really like. And get paid well, too.

.

Oh, I know. You’re going to say that young North American students don’t sell themselves for food. But guys like you who say that haven’t shivered at night trying to sleep under park bushes, haven’t stood in front of restaurant windows greedily watching wealthy tourists eat. I’d barely eaten in days. I desperately needed money. And didn’t care how I earned it. If I had to sell my ass to get it, well, so be it.

Yes, okay, I could have phoned my parents. But I was damned if I’d ask them for help. They’d financed my years in college, and I was grateful to them for that. They were providing me with a monthly allowance during my year abroad, too. But the monthly allowance was grossly inadequate and wouldn’t be increased. I knew what their idea of help would be: a plane ticket home.

I didn’t want that kind of help. I’d come to Paris to get a life, away from them and the boring suburb they lived in. Maybe that sounds ungrateful. And maybe it is. But I was bloody well not going to give up and go back to Markham Meadows, just because I couldn’t stoop to doing what was required to stay. Fuck! Other guys had financed their time here as rent boys. There was no reason I couldn’t do the same.

Still, I was apprehensive. I’d hardly had any real experience of sex, let alone the kind of thing I was contemplating. I kept wondering if I could go through with it.

.

I kept standing outside the cabaret, looking at the promos near the door.

There were a lot of photos beside the entrance. Some were of the floor shows, but many were simply portraits of young men --some of the dancers available for ’conversations’, the text announced primly. Dancers or not, they all looked sexy. Some were guys like me, in their late teens or early twenties, grinning with anticipation as they preened for the camera. Others were younger and more innocent, some barely in their mid-teens.

The number of young teenagers surprised me. I knew (or at least had read) that pretty much anything was available in Paris, and that the age of consent here was only fifteen. But a number of the kids looked even younger. It was hard to believe that what went on here was legal, if kids that young were available for sex. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe they did just ’converse’, after all.

They all sure looked sexy, I had to admit. Gazing at their pictures, I couldn’t help wondering if I was good enough to compete. I was still very slim, and knew I had a sexy ass. But there was no way anyone could mistake me for a young teenage dancer, if that’s what the cabaret’s clientele were looking for.

Shit! I was a college student, not a fucking teenager. Okay, I’d just turned twenty and did look young for my age; maybe I could still pass for an older teenager. And I was certainly athletic enough to learn a few dance steps. I had to hope that would be good enough.

.

I mentally kicked myself for my doubts. Of course I was good enough!

Fuck, guys had picked me up back home at college. I’d not done much with them --I’d never actually gone with any of them, for sex or anything else-- but they’d obviously thought me sexy enough to try it on. And they were right. I did look sexy. I still do.

I preened as I inspected my reflection in a window, grinning as I thought about the money I could earn. I looked pretty cool, I thought as I kept admiring myself: a clean-cut American college kid, with a lean athletic body and wide-open grin. Of course I looked sexy! Good enough for what was required, surely. I just had to sell myself to the cabaret’s management.

I wondered how to do that. Or, indeed, if I’d even have the opportunity. The place looked empty --I guess no surprise, it was still early afternoon. The club looked dead. Indeed, everything did. Even the Place du Tertre had been almost empty when I walked through it: hardly any tourists, no artists, nothing worth seeing. It was still way too early for anything significant to be happening.

.

I looked around, wondering if I should come back later. I’d figured it was better to come before the evening crowd, and had figured someone would be around by now.

Maybe it was just as well that they weren’t, I thought to myself. Maybe I should keep on looking for something else, something less risky. Prostitution was legal here, so at least there was no risk of going to jail. But I wasn’t a total fool. I knew there were other risks.

I looked again at the photos of grinning youths, wondering if they still grinned like that with a client’s prick pushing up their ass. Maybe the whole thing was a bad idea.

.

[2]

"Tu sembles fasciné par quelque chose, garçon. Qu’est-ce que tu cherche?"

I looked around, startled. I hadn’t heard the man come up beside me.

"Je ne sais pas, exactement" I shrugged. "Un emploi, je suppose."

"Ici, à ce cabaret?"

"S’il est possible." I shrugged again. "J’ai lit de la réputation de cet club. Et j’ai un grand besoin pour monnaie."

.

"You are anglais?" he smiled, switching to English.

"Yes" I nodded, once again facing the reality that I’d never pass for a native.

His smile was somewhat scornful. "And have such need for money?"

"I do." I thought I’d better explain. "I just keep running out. I never thought Paris would be so expensive."

"Oui, il peut être cher" he smiled. "But surely not for a young man like you."

"Oh, you’d be surprised" I grimaced.

.

He was looking at me appraisingly. "Your accent, il n’est pas anglais. You are American?"

"Almost" I nodded, grateful to be able to speak English. "I studied there for the last couple of years. I’m actually Canadian."

"Ah, canadien. Un hockeyeur."

"Well, not really." I shrugged in embarrassment. "I wish I were. I’m just a student without money."

He smiled slightly. "It is not easy, to earn the money in a strange city. You have a permis de travail?"

I shook my head. "Non. But I’ve read that it is perhaps possible, here in Montmartre, to find a job without one. Something casual, something unofficial."

"Unofficial?" He looked at me derisively. "Une vocation de la nuit?"

"Perhaps" I nodded uncertainly, not sure what he meant.

.

He smiled again, looking me up and down. "You have a body that would appeal to gays. You are gay, yourself?"

I shrugged in some embarrassment. "Not really, monsieur. But ..." I shrugged again.

"But you have thought about possibilities. Tu es venu ici à colporter ton cul."

I looked at him uncertainly. "I’m sorry, monsieur. Je ne comprends ..."

"Je m’excuse." He looked at me with obvious amusement. "I said it sounds like you’re peddling your ass."

"Oh" I grimaced. "Yeah. Well ..." I looked at him and shrugged. "I guess that’s probably right."

.

I watched him warily. "I’m sorry, monsieur, if that offends you. But I don’t know what else to do. I’m kind of desperate. I don’t have money for food."

He smiled. "Ah, the hunger. It justifies anything."

I nodded, too famished to prevaricate. "Well, maybe not anything. But ..." I shrugged. "I’ve got to do something."

.

"And you think you can do that here?"

"Oh, yes!" I nodded again. "I’ve read about this club, and about what goes on here. I’m hoping ... well, that it’s a place where I could ... that they can use me."

"Well, then" he nodded curtly. "You’d better come in."

I looked at him in surprise as he took out a key. "You work here?"

"You could say that" he smiled, opening the door and switching on a light. "Après toi."

.

[3]

The place looked deserted as I preceded him through the door.

"Jacques?" he called out. "Henri?" He waited for a moment and called out again. "Quelqu’un est ici?"

"Oui, mon chef" someone answered. A door opened and a young man came out. He grinned in anticipation as he saw me. "Un nouvel enrôlé?"

"Peut-être" the man behind me nodded. "Il est canadien, Henri, et il n’a aucun d’argent." He looked at me derisively. "Il cherche quelqu’un à qui il peut louer son cul."

"Il dit si franchement?" the young man snorted. "Parle-t-il français?"

"Un peu" I interjected. "Mais je comprends mieux que je parle."

Henri smiled. "I am same, en anglais."

.

He looked at me curiously. "What he just said, about renting out your ass. It is true?"

I shrugged. "I don’t have a lot of options."

He was looking me up and down. "Il fait pas mal, Pierre. Sait-il ce qu’arrive ici?"

"Je ne le sais pas" his boss shrugged. "Nous découvrons ça maintenant."

.

The older man smiled as he turned to me. "You said you’ll do anything." I nodded. "Alors déshabille-toi. Take off your clothes."

I wasn’t sure I understood. "Tous? Everything?"

"But of course" he smiled scornfully. "We need to see if you have ... the talent."

I looked at him hesitantly, unsure of what was happening.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. "What are you waiting for? It is your ass that you offer, n’est-ce pas?"

"Maybe" I shrugged dismissively. "Depending on what you pay."

.

"We don’t pay anything" he smirked. "Notre clientèle, they decide what you receive. Maybe nothing, if you not give them what they want." He looked at me with a patronising smile. "Or maybe they pay a lot, if you respond well and please them. That is up to you, and to them."

I nodded apprehensively. "What would they want to do?"

"Anything they like" he shrugged. "Fuck your ass, beat it, whatever pleases them. Importe-t-il? So long as they pay?"

"Je ne suis pas sûr" I replied uncertainly. "What do you mean, beat it?"

"He means they whip your ass" Henri sneered. "Is that so hard to understand?"

.

I grimaced. "But surely that doesn’t happen here."

"With the English boys like you?" he grinned. "All the time. Les garçons anglais, they are famous for liking it. They earn a lot for that."

"I’m not English. And don’t want that."

"Then you waste our time" Pierre snapped. "Do you want work, or not?"

"I do" I nodded. "Of course."

"Then do what I said. I told you to take your clothes off. Do that or leave."

"Oh, all right" I said petulantly, doing as he said.

.

"Pas mal" the young man smiled. I’d stripped off everything and was standing naked in front of them. "Pas mal du tout."

"Turn around" Pierre ordered. "Slowly."

I did as he said, rapidly becoming aroused as they inspected me.

"You get hard easily" Henri smirked, looking at my hard-on. "Il pourrait être bon, Pierre."

"Nous verrons" his boss shrugged, smiling derisively. "You do look eager for it, boy. You are ready to show us you are good?"

.

I looked at him in surprise. "You mean ..." Henri was grinning. "Do it? With him?"

"Bien sûr! You think we give new boys to customers without testing them?" He turned back to Henri. "Ou est Jacques? Il devrait t’aider."

"Two guys at once?" I asked in alarm.

He looked at me in amusement. "Ça fait du problème? You prefer more?"

"Non! Fuck, no!"

He glanced at Henri. "Prépare-le, Henri."

.

[4]

We were in another room, in the back of the building.

"Il est prêt pour Jacques?" Pierre had come in with a tall handsome black.

"Mais oui" Henri nodded curtly.

I certainly was. I was still naked, but much cleaner. Henri had made me flush myself out and scrub everywhere. I felt fresher after that shower than I’d felt for a long time.

Henri looked at the black guy irritably. "Pourquoi n’es-tu pas venu pour m’aider, Jacques?"

"J’ai eu un autre besoin de lui" Pierre snapped.

.

The black guy was grinning at me. "So you’re another Yank?"

I looked at him in surprise. "You too?" His accent was pure Bronx.

"Non, I come from Rwanda. But I lived in New York for several years, went to college there." He looked me up and down patronisingly. "You don’t look bad. You got a thing about being fucked by black guys?"

"I don’t know" I shrugged. "I’ve never been fucked."

"You’re kidding!" he snorted. He looked at me and laughed.

.

Pierre looked at me in surprise. "Il n’a aucune expérience?"

"Apparemment pas" the black grinned. "Il dit qu’il est vierge."

"Si tel est vrai" Pierre shrugged.

"Of course it’s true!" I said indignantly. "I’m not gay, if that’s what you think!"

"Vraiment?" he snorted. He smiled derisively. "But you peddle your ass?"

"That’s different!"

.

Pierre looked at me and laughed. "Il est un naïf, Jacques. Tu l’aimerais."

"Ouais" the black grinned, looking at me as he stripped off his shirt. "Je pense ça aussi."

I looked at Jacques apprehensively. He was obviously a few years older than me, but somehow looked youthful in spite of that. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Or maybe just the obvious enthusiasm when he grinned. He was a few inches taller than me, with a very sexy lean build.

He was looking at me with an amused smile. "You like what you see?"

I shrugged in embarrassment. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t stare."

"Oh, I don’t mind" he laughed. "You’re pretty sexy, yourself."

.

He glanced at my rapidly growing hard-on. "You sure you’ve never done this before?"

I shook my head, feeling even more embarrassed. "I’m sorry. I can’t help it."

He grinned. "Hey, don’t feel embarrassed. It’s cool." He turned to his boss. "Il t’excite très facilement, Pierre. Il serait bon, sans doute."

"Je l’espère" Pierre smiled. "S’il ne te plaît pas, tu peux battre son cul."

Jacques laughed. "I do that anyway, I think." He looked at me and grinned. "I bet you like getting it on your ass, boy. The feel of a thick strap slapping into your cul, c’est très cool, n’est-ce pas?"

"Fuck, no!"

.

I looked at them apprehensively. "You guys are kidding about that, right?"

"Why should we do that?" Pierre sneered. "Is Jacques not right in his bet?"

"I’m serious, monsieur. I’m not into that."

"You think that matters?" Jacques snorted.

"It’s got to!" I looked at Jacques nervously, noting the obvious power of his shoulders. "I haven’t agreed to anything! You guys can’t do that!"

"Non?" Pierre jeered. "You are too much of un taquin, my young friend. A tease. I think we’d better show you what we can do. What you can expect, too, if you ply your trade here."

.

He turned to the others. "Plie-le au-dessus de cette table."

Henri pulled a table away from the wall and grinned at me. "Okay, you heard what he said. Get over the table."

"No way!" I looked from one to another. "You’re kidding about this. You’ve got to be!"

Jacques smiled and shook his head. "Bend over it, boy. You’ve provoked us enough."

"But ..."

"Tout de suite!" Pierre snapped. "Now!"

[5]

"You can’t do this! LET ME GO!!"

Jacques and Henri had forced me over the table, holding my shoulders down.

Pierre had gone to a cupboard and come back with a strap. "You need to learn a lesson, boy. If you work here, you do what you’re told, no matter who asks. You don’t argue. You obey."

"But I don’t work here! And I won’t!" I fought to get away, with no success.

"YOU CAN’T DO THIS!!!" Pierre was reaching back. "YOU FUCKING CAN’T!!!"

.

"YAIEEOOOWHHHH!!!" He’d slashed the strap across the underside of my buttocks. "FUCK!!! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!!! PLEASE!!!"

He reached back again. "NO!!! OH, PLEASE!!!" I desperately tried to jerk away, but Jacques and Henri were too strong. "AAOOOWWHHHHH!!!! FUCK!!!"

"AOOOWWHHHH!!!" Another blow, that time across the middle of my buttocks. This time, I did manage to jerk up. But was promptly slammed down again by Henri and Jacques.

"OH, JESUS!!!" He’d slammed the strap down on me again, this time across the tops of my thighs. "OH, GOD!!!" He was reaching back again.

"FUCKING SHIT!!!" He’d hit me again, just slightly higher. "NO!!! OH, JESUS!!! PLEASE!!! NO!!!"

.

I couldn’t believe the pain. Nor how helpless I was. I kept flailing my ass from side to side, trying somehow to jerk away, but was totally pinned down. They’d forced my arms up behind my back, pushing my shoulders down with all their weight.

The strap was thick and wide, close to thirty inches long. Each time the heavy strap slammed into me, the impact almost knocked the breath out of me.

"YAAOOOWWRGHHHHH!!!! FUCK!!!" He’d hit me again, right across the backs of my thighs.

"OH, SHIT!!! SHIT!!!" He’d done it again. That one was really bad.

.

I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.

I’d never been punished before. I’d never even thought about what it could feel like. And certainly had never imagined this could happen to me here.

The shock of each blow slamming into me was just unbelievable. The strap really hurt! And the pain kept growing with each blow.

"OH, JESUS!!!" The strap had slammed into my crease. That was almost as bad as the ones across the backs of my thighs.

"PLEASE, SIR!!! OH, PLEASE!!!" He was reaching back again. "PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME ANY MORE!!!"

"AOOOOWWWGHHHH!!!! FUCKING JESUS!!!" He’d really hurt me that time.

.

OH, GOD!!! He was reaching back again.

My ass was burning all over now. Every blow was another blast of flame.

"FUCKING SHIT!!! FUCK!!!" He’d really hit hard. Every fucking one was hard!

I kept trying to jerk away, but there was no escape. The strap kept slashing down into my ass, hitting all over. All my writhing gyrations accomplished was to present even more of my bottom to the strap.

"AOOOWWWGHHHH!!!" He’d hit me again, down across the underside of my left buttock onto the back of my right thigh. "OH, GOD!!! THAT HURT, SIR!!! IT HURT SO FUCKING MUCH!!!"

"Oh, don’t be such a wimp" Jacques jeered, pushing my arm even further up my back.

"I can’t help it!" I moaned. "It’s so fucking much! OH, GOD!!!" Pierre had reached back. "NOT AGAIN!!! AOOOWWGHHHH!!! PLEASE!!!"

.

"OH, PLEASE, SIR!!!" I was frantically trying to pull away. "PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME ANY MORE!!!"

"OH, JESUS!!! AAAOOOWHHHH!!!" That had hit across both thighs. "PLEASE STOP, SIR!!! PLEASE!!! YOU’VE GOT TO STOP!!!"

"Il essaye de vous provoquer" Henri jeered. "Il veut plus."

"He’ll get it" Pierre laughed.

"YAOOOWHHHH!!! OH, GOD!!! AAAOOOOWHHHH!!!" The strap kept swinging down on me.

It kept hitting all over, sometimes slamming into my buttocks, sometimes slamming down on my thighs. "OH, JESUS!!!" It hurt so much! "PLEASE, SIR!!! AOOOWGHHHH!!! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS!!!"

"AOOOOWWHHHH!!! PLEASE, MONSIEUR!!! I’LL DO WHAT YOU WANT!!! I’LL DO ANYTHING!!! OH, JESUS!!! YAAAOOOWRGHHHH!!! PLEASE!!!"

.

When Pierre finally let me get up, my ass was ablaze everywhere.

"You obey us now, boy? Or do I need to give you more?"

"Oh, God, no!" I sobbed. I couldn’t believe how much my ass hurt. He must have slashed easily fifteen or twenty blows into it.

"You will do what you are asked? Sans se plaindre? Without complaining?"

"Oh, oui!" I’d turned to face him. "I’ll obey you, monsieur! I’ll do anything you say."

"Good! You can show us that now. Tirez ce banc pour lui, Henri."

.

The bench was by the wall. He waited for a moment while Henri pulled it out.

"Get up on the bench, boy. Up on your knees."

"Comment?" I asked, looking at him nervously. "Je ne compris ..."

"Don’t you even understand English?" He looked at me irritably. "Kneel on the bench, facing towards me. Ass high, hands and elbows on the floor."

I looked at him fearfully. "What are you going to do?"

"Moi? I do nothing. Jacques and Henri will do it." He glanced at them. "Donnez-le lui avec un martinet." He smiled at me. "We’ll see how you like that."

.

[6]

I knew about martinets.

They were vicious implements of torture, I’d read. Strands of knotted leather, stretching anywhere from 30 to 70 centimeters down from a wooden handle. That’s up to two fucking feet, for each whipping strand! It’s no wonder they can be vicious.

They were like a safer and more efficient birch, I’d been told. Safer because they never frayed and left embedded pieces, no matter how often lashed down across an offender’s ass. And much more efficient, because they hardly ever had to be replaced.

I’d read about how they’d been used on Devil’s Island, how prisoners would be lashed between their legs until their ass and thighs were raw. It was worse than even the longest cane because of the way its lashes could be placed anywhere, slashing into an offender’s asshole, even into his balls.

.

"Oh, please!" I begged. "Please don’t use that on me!" I looked at Jacques imploringly. "Please! I’ll do anything he wants. Tell him that! Please!"

"He’s not going to be the one giving that to you" Jacques grinned. "We will."

"I’ll do anything you want! Anything!"

"Il n’est pas encore sur le banc" Henri smirked. "Il ne vous obéit pas, Pierre."

"C’est sûr" Pierre nodded. He’d gone to the door. "You should do what you are told, mon voyou. You obviously didn’t learn from what I gave you."

"Oh, please!" I begged.

"Attachez-le sur la table cette fois" he told the others. He looked at me scornfully. "This time, you get something you can really feel."

"No!! Please!!" Jacques and Henri had grabbed me as Pierre left. "Pas encore, s’il vous plâit!! Pas encore!!"

.

The two men forced me down over the table again, pushing my chest down and pulling my arms forward. They tied my wrists to the table legs on the other side, leaving my ass hanging over the edge, accessible for whatever they chose to do. I could move my legs and ass, but that’s about all.

Henri smirked as they gazed at me. "La courroie, ça n’était pas assez dur, Jacques. Appliquons une verge, cette fois."

"Une verge?" I asked apprehensively. "What the hell is une verge?"

"A punishment cane, comme dans l’école anglaise" Henri smiled. "That’s what turns you English boys on the most, n’est-ce pas?"

I looked at him in alarm. "Shit, no!"

"I’m not so sure" Jacques grinned.

.

His hand was between my legs, feeling my prick swell. "Il a encore une gaule, Henri. I think you like this more than you admit, boy."

Maybe I did, I couldn’t help thinking. My prick was becoming totally hard. God knows why.

I squirmed as he kept holding it. Was it like this for Rimbaud? I’d never read about him getting anything like this on his ass in his version of hell. Why was the thought of it turning me on?

"The English boys, they all go for the cane" Henri sneered.

"Mais il n’est pas anglais" Jacques laughed. His hand was still on my hard-on. "You sure want it, kid. How come you go for this?"

"I don’t know" I sighed. "I fucking don’t!"

.

I pushed my prick into his hand as he pulled my foreskin back. "Oh, God!" I was right on the edge.

I suddenly felt my balls clench. "Oh, Jesus! I’m going to cum!"

"Not yet" Jacques jeered. He slapped my balls hard.

"FUCK!!!!" I jerked back in shock. "YAIEEOOOWWHHHH!!!" He’d slapped them again.

"FUCK OFF!!!" I jerked into the edge of the table. "DON’T DO THAT!!!"

"I’ll do what I fucking like, kid." He took his hand off me and went to the closet. "You’re going to learn that now."

.

[7]

Jacques came back from the closet with a long thin cane, easily three feet long. He grinned as he swished it through the air.

"You think you’re going to cum when you get this, boy?"

I flinched as its end touched me. My prick was still erect, even though not fully hard.

He’d touched my ass lightly, just hard enough for me to feel. And then flicked the cane in harder, hard enough to sting.

"Oh, God!" I moaned, really afraid now.

He flicked it into the underside of my buttocks, and then reached back all the way.

"OH, JESUS!" I cried out fearfully. He was clearly about to swing. "DON’T DO THIS!!! PLEASE!!!"

.

I was terrified by what he was about to do. But hard, too. My prick had swollen right back up when he flicked the cane into me, throbbing each time I heard it swish.

I don’t know what was turning me on. It couldn’t be the cane, surely. Maybe it was because his body was so sexy. I couldn’t help admiring it as I watched him move.

Jacques’s torso was coal-black, glistening slightly as he reached back. He looked so fucking athletic, so powerful, so terrifying. I closed my eyes as his body tensed.

.

"AIEEEOOOWWHHHHH!!!!"

I felt a line of fire across my bottom and jerked up.

"OH, GOD!!!" I yelled. "FUCK!!! THAT FUCKING HURT!!!"

The cane had slashed across my buttocks, just above the crease where they joined the tops of my thighs.

"FUCKING SHIT!!!!" He’d hit me again, slightly higher. I could feel my prick shrivel.

.

"AOOOWWGHHHHH!!!" Another one, this time right on my crease. "OH, GOD!!! DON’T HIT SO HARD!!! THAT REALLY HURTS!!!"

"It’s supposed to hurt" Jacques jeered, reaching back. "What do you think it’s supposed to do?"

"Il nous provoque encore" Henri sneered. "Tu ne le frappes pas assez durement."

"You see?" Jacques grinned. "He thinks I should hit harder."

"YOU CAN’T!!!" I wailed. "YOU CAN’T HIT HARDER!!! YOU FUCKING CAN’T!!!"

"Now that IS a challenge!" Jacques laughed. He reached back even further.

"YAAIEEOOOOWWHHHH!!!" The cane had slashed into me just millimeters above his previous blow. "OH, JESUS!!! FUCKING JESUS!!!!" It really had hit harder!

"NO!!!" He was reaching so far back! "OH, JESUS!!! AAAOOOWRGHHHH!!!!"

.

I’d never felt anything like the sensation of that cane’s impact on my ass.

Each blow slashed into me with an intensity I hardly believed possible. It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning, shooting through every nerve in my body as I jerked up each time in shock. The cane felt nothing like how that strap had felt. The cane was so much sharper, so much more electric, so much harder!

"OH, PLEASE!!!" He was reaching back again.

"AIEEEOOOOHHHH!!!!" I’d arched up in terror, pushing my ass forward just as the cane hit. "JESUS, JACQUES!!! THAT FUCKING HURT!!! IT REALLY DID!!!"

"AOOOOWWHHHH!!!" He’d hit me again, slashing the cane across my crease. "SHIT!!! FUCKING SHIT!!! OH, JESUS!!! PLEASE!!!"

.

"Vraiment, il réagit bien" Henri grinned. "Nos clients, ils l’aimeront."

"Oui" Jacques nodded, grinning as he looked at me. "Henri’s right, boy. You’d make anyone want to give this to you hard."

"NO!!! OH, GOD!!!" He’d reached way back. "PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME ANY MORE!!!"

"Oh, you’re getting more" he laughed. "You got a lesson to learn, remember? You’re getting lots more."

"YAAAOOOWWHHHH!!!!" That one had hit higher, right across the center of my buttocks.

"AIEEEOOOWHHHHH!!!! FUCKING SHIT!!!" My feet were drumming on the floor. "OH, GOD!!!" He’d hit into my crease again, right on top of where he’d hit me before.

.

"OH, PLEASE, JACQUES!! THAT HURTS SO MUCH!!! NO MORE!!! PLEASE!!!"

"OH, GOD!!!" He was swinging down on me again. "AOOOOWWRGHHHH!!!! JESUS!!!"

Each blow hurt so fucking much! He was reaching back for yet another.

"YAOOOWGHHHH!!! SHIT!!!" He’d slashed across the tops of my thighs. "OH, JESUS!!! AIEEOOOWHHHH!!!"

He’d done that again, almost on the same spot. "FUCK!!! FUCKING JESUS!!! FUCK!!!"

.

He only gave me a few more blows. But each one hurt even more than what had come before. I was gasping in shock when he finally stopped, barely able to speak or scream.

"Tu nous obéis maintenant?" Jacques smiled. "You obey now?"

I nodded frantically. "I’ll do what you want!" I sobbed. "Anything!"

"Let’s see if you mean it" he smirked. "Détache-le, Henri. Laisse-le se lever."

Henri untied me. "We use the martinet now?"

"Not yet" Jacques smirked, looking at me hungrily. "Get up, kid. Show us your ass. Let’s see if it’s hot enough for what you’ve been waiting for."

.

[8]

My ass was bright red and burning when I stood up. The cane had hit everywhere.

"Ça a été bien fait" Henri smirked. "You got beaten en maître, boy."

"La verge is what makes it so good" Jacques smiled. "For me, c’est the favorite, surtout pour un garçon comme lui."

"Pour moi, aussi" Henri grinned. "When I am the one to give it." He looked at me and laughed. "Your ass is so red, mon gosse. It was good for you too, n’est-ce pas?"

"Oh, God, no!" I’d reached back to grab my buttocks. "My ass is burning, all over! It was fucking awful!"

"But that burn should for you be good" Henri jeered. "What happened to cette belle gaule? That beautiful hard-on?"

I looked at him bitterly. "You expect me to stay turned on, through a caning like that?"

"Why not?" Jacques laughed. "It sure turned me on."

.

Jacques kept grinning as he looked at me. "I think you’d better get over me."

"What are you going to do now?" I asked nervously.

"Find out if you’re as good as I think you are" he smirked. He sat down on the bench. "Get over my knees."

He smiled when I hesitated. "You want more of that cane first?"

I shook my head quickly. "I’ll do what you say."

I got down across his thighs, holding my chest up off the floor.

.

He pulled my legs apart and held me down with his left hand. His jeans-covered thighs felt very sexy against my skin. I couldn’t help moaning when his other hand felt between my legs.

"Oh, Jesus!" I writhed as his hand lightly brushed against my balls, feeling my prick swell.

"You are a very sexy boy" Jacques grinned. My hard-on was rapidly pushing into him.

"Il est dur encore déjà?" Henri laughed.

"Ouais, il le pousse dans ma cuisse." He slapped my ass playfully. "You’re fucking hot, kid. You must really like all this."

.

It was true. Lying over his thighs did make me excited.

Maybe it was just being felt up like that, but I don’t think so. I felt helpless bent over him, totally under his control. I think that’s what really turned me on. That and the feel of his hard-on, which I could feel swelling up against my belly.

"Yes" he smirked, tracing a line up over my hole. "You have a very hot ass."

I pushed into him again when he did that. I’d never felt anything sexier.

.

"Tu veux ceci?" Henri asked, holding out a tube.

"Merci" Jacques nodded. He took the tube, squeezed lubricant out onto a finger, and pushed it up into my asshole.

"Oh, wow!" I gasped, grinding my prick even harder into his thigh.

"This gets to you?" Jacques grinned. He pushed more lubricant in.

"Oh, God, yes!" I was right on the edge. He was rubbing his finger against a place inside me, a place that really did get to me.

"OH, JESUS!!" I suddenly felt myself tense. "I’m going to cum!"

"No, you’re not" Jacques laughed, rolling me off him onto the floor.

.

[9]

"FUCK!!!" My ass had hit the floor hard. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

"To get you off before you came all over me." He stood up. "Get up on your knees and pull these jeans down."

I did as he demanded, pulling his shoes and jeans off.

Naked, he was even sexier. His prick jumped into my face as I pulled his briefs down.

"Suck on it, boy! Make it hard!"

I didn’t need to suck on it to do that. It was already rock-hard.

.

I took it in my mouth and licked its end.

"Ah, c’est si bien" Jacques moaned, pushing it further in. "Avales lui! Swallow it!"

I didn’t have much choice about that. He’d grabbed my head with both hands, pulling me onto him as he pushed in. I held onto the backs of his thighs to steady myself, trying my best to suck hard.

His prick was too big. I gagged as it pushed down into my throat.

.

"Too big for your mouth?" Jacques grinned.

I nodded as he pulled out, swallowing to get my breath.

"That’s okay, Get up on the bench and lie on your back. I’ll try somewhere else."

"It’s pretty fucking big" I said apprehensively. "How about I just suck on it without swallowing it?"

"I don’t think so" Jacques laughed. "How about doing as I say, for a change?"

Henri snorted as I hesitated. "Il veut plus de la verge."

"No fucking way!" The last thing I wanted was more of that cane. "I’ll do as you say."

I quickly got up and went to the bench.

.

I lay on my back. "Raise your legs" Jacques ordered. I did that, too.

"Pousses-les vers le bas, Henri, au-dessus de sa tête."

Henri grabbed my ankles and pulled them down, pushing my legs apart.

"Oh, Jesus!" I moaned, feeling my ass pulled up off the bench.

I was afraid but also excited, pretty sure I knew what Jacques was going to do. My prick was totally hard as I looked up at him. His hard-on looked even bigger than before, suspended over me. He was going to drop down on me, I just knew it.

Henri suddenly grinned and leaned forward, pushing my legs apart as he bent down towards me.

.

"OH, WOW!!!" I gasped. He’d licked the end of my prick. I’d never expected anything like that.

Just then, Jacques pushed a finger in. "FUCK!!!" That was even more of a surprise, though I guess it shouldn’t be.

Henri was still licking. The combination was awesome. "FUCKING SHIT!!!" Jacques had pushed another finger in, along with more lubricant.

I pushed my ass up, just as he pushed a third finger in. "SHIT!!! THAT’S TOO MUCH!!!" He suddenly rubbed the same sweet spot he’d rubbed before. "OH, WOW!!! KEEP DOING THAT!!! THAT’S FUCKING AWESOME!!!"

"Je pense qu’il est prêt" Henri grinned.

"I hope so" Jacques laughed. "I sure am."

.

He pushed down on the backs of my knees, pushing my ass up even more as he lowered himself down on me.

"You ready for this, boy?" I felt the tip of his prick against my anus.

"I guess so" I gasped. His prick was pushing in. "It’s fucking large!"

"Not for you, boy." He grinned as he adjusted his position. "You’re going to love it."

"FUCK!!!" His helmet had suddenly popped through. "SHIT!!! DON’T PUSH SO HARD!!!"

"OH, JESUS!!!" He was pushing in hard, stretching my anus painfully. "FUCK!!!" I’d never thought that could hurt so much. "TAKE IT OUT!!!"

.

"OH, GOD!!" I cried out in relief. He’d pulled back, but his glans was still in.

"NO!!! PLEASE!!!" He’d pushed in again, this time even further.

"GOD!!!" I fought to get away. "IT’S TOO FUCKING LARGE!!! DON’T DO THIS!!!"

"Il a besoin du martinet" Henri sneered. "Ça ou un autre encouragement."

"Tu as raison" Jacques nodded. "Hold him there. I’ll tie his shoulders down."

He pulled out, picked up the rope they’d used before to tie my hands to the table, and wound it around my chest and the bench, crossing it across my shoulders. "That should help you hold him for the martinet" he smiled, cinching it tightly.

"Bien sûr" Henri grinned, still pushing my legs down. "C’est parfait."

.

[10]

Jacques went to the cupboard, bringing back a multi-thonged whip. "Perhaps this will motivate you better, boy."

He brushed the martinet across my wide-open ass, grinning as he saw my fear.

"Yes, it is lovely, the martinet." He reached back and flicked it down on me again, just hard enough to sting. "Pull his ass up higher if you can, Henri."

Henri pushed down harder on the backs of my legs. "C’est as good as I can do it."

"C’est assez bon" Jacques smiled, flicking the martinet down on me again.

.

"Oh, God!" I gasped. He’d flicked it right into my asshole.

"You like that?" Jacques grinned.

I shook my head. But was still hard.

"That was too soft for you? You anglais want it stronger, yes?"

He reached up high. And swung.

.

I screamed as he swung the martinet down.

"OH, JESUS!!!" I wailed. "FUCKING JESUS!!!" It had hit hard. And hit everywhere.

"NO!!! OH, PLEASE!!!" He was reaching back up above him again. "OH, GOD!!! NO!!!"

"YAIEEEOOOWHHHH!!!" He’d slashed it down a second time.

The sensation was incredible.

.

Each time it hit, strands of the martinet slashed all over my ass, some hitting the sides of my ass crack, some spreading wider. Some slashed down onto my asshole, setting it on fire.

"FUCK!!!! YAIEEOOOWHHHHH!!!!" He’d hit down onto me again, this time with even more power. I could see him reach back, tense, and then swing.

"SHIT!!! FUCKING SHIT!!!" He’d done it again.

I couldn’t believe the pain. But it was strange, something else, too. The way it hit into my asshole was like a stinging version of his prick. Even though it made my asshole blaze, it turned me on.

.

"He’s still hard!" Henri grinned. "Arrêtes-toi pour un instant, Jacques. Je lèche son bite."

"Be my guest" Jacques smiled, lowering the martinet.

"OH, WOW!!!" Henri had leaned forward to lick me again.

"JESUS!!!" He was still doing it. I couldn’t believe how good that felt!

"Do that again, Henri!" I pleaded. He’d leaned back. "That’s so fucking good!"

"Later" he laughed, glancing at Jacques.

.

"YAAOOOWWWRGHHHH!!!! SHIT!!!" Jacques had slammed the martinet down on me again. "OH, GOD, THAT HURTS!!!" It really did.

"Il est vachement dur" Henri grinned. "Il doit l’aimer, vraiment."

"Yeah" Jacques grinned, reaching back. "With a hard-on like that, he wants it, for sure."

"FUCKING SHIT!!!" He’d hit me again, slashing almost every strand down into and around my asshole.

.

"OH, JESUS!!!!" Henri had reached forward and licked my prick again, this time sucking hard. "OH, WOW!!!"

I couldn’t believe how much that excited me. My prick was as taut as a steel pole. With his mouth on my prick, even the burn in my asshole felt sexy!

"OH, GOD, HENRI!!!" I pushed up into his mouth. "THAT’S SO FUCKING GOOD!"

"DON’T STOP!!!" Henri had pulled back, leaving me right on the edge. "OH, PLEASE!!!"

.

"FUCK!!!" That was the martinet, down into my crack again.

"YAIEEEOOOWWHHHHH!!!!" Another blow. "JESUS!!! FUCKING SHIT!!!" The ends of some of the strands had flicked against my balls.

"FUCK!!!" He’d done that again, this time harder. "JESUS, JACQUES!!!! YOU HIT MY FUCKING BALLS!!"

"I’ll do it again" he grinned.

"OH, JESUS!!!" He’d hit me again, just missing my balls.

.

"OH, WOW!!!!" Henri had licked the end of my prick again. "SHIT, THAT’S GOOD!!!"

"AOOOWWWGHHHH!!!!" Another lash down on my asshole. "OH, GOD!!!"

I was so excited by now, I wanted anything. "DO IT AGAIN, JACQUES!!! DO IT AGAIN!!!"

"OH, WOW!!!" He had. He’d really hit hard.

.

I was so incredibly turned on!

"FUCK ME, JACQUES!!!" I really wanted it now. "SHOVE THAT FUCKING PRICK IN!!!"

He did, dropping down hard. "OH, WOW!!! AIEEEOOOOHHHHH!!!!"

I couldn’t believe the pain. Jacques had grabbed the backs of my knees just in time to control his lunge but, even so, had really dropped down fast. His prick had easily plunged halfway in.

"OH, JESUS!!!" He’d pulled back and lunged in again, this time even further in. "FUCK, THAT PRICK IS BIG!!!"

"You’re getting it all, boy."

"OH, YES!!!" It hurt, but at the same time felt so wonderful! "OH, WOW!!! YES!!!"

.

He’d pushed all the way in now.

He was lunging in fast, his pelvis banging into my ass each time he plunged forward. The sensation was fantastic! I was so turned on, I couldn’t believe it.

"OH, JESUS!!!" I could feel myself tensing.

My balls suddenly started clenching. "OH, MY GOD, JACQUES!!! I’M CUMMING!!!!"

I felt him tense as I started shooting. I clenched my ass around his prick as I spurted, holding it hard.

"OH, WOW, KID!!!" he shouted. "YOU’RE SO GOOD!!! OH, GOD!!! KEEP DOING THAT!!!"

He was holding me tight, cumming inside me. "OH, WOW!!!"

We were both shouting, both spurting. It was so good! So incredibly good!