The Contract Chapter 6 By The Mangler
After sitting and staring into nothing for a few minutes, Ethan shook his head as if returning to life. He sighed and stood up, realizing he needed to start cleaning the room. Initially, he began cleaning quickly to get the job done. Then he remembered that he would have to go to the lounge when all the cleaning was done, so he slowed his actions.
He intended to stretch out cleaning both rooms for as long as possible. To that end, he dropped to his hands and knees and scrubbed the tile floor with a washcloth instead of using a mop. With his jock-strapped clad ass sticking in the air as he scrubbed, he knew he would die if anyone could see him like this.
Taking a break from scrubbing, Ethan looked at the clock and noticed that the load of laundry should be dry. He stood and walked over to the door. As he started to open it, he said, "fuck it." He let the door close, returned to Sam's bed, and picked up the next load of laundry.
"What they don't know, they don't know," he said.
He partially opened the door, and hearing no noise, he exited into the hallway. He moved quickly and quietly into the stairwell, descending to the basement level. He walked through the door and into the laundry room.
"I told you that tonight's entertainment would be back," one of the guys he had previously encountered said. Both he and his friend were sitting on the folding table.
"You were right, and the view is still just fabulous," the friend replied.
Ethan stopped when he heard the voices and looked over at the two guys. Hearing their comments, he turned pink but chose not to engage with them. He walked over to the washing machine, opened the door, and flung the clothes from his hands into the washing machine. He slammed the door, inserted the quarters, and started the machine.
"I would have put some detergent in myself," one of the guys said to the other.
"FUCK," Ethan screamed as he realized that he, indeed, had not put any detergent in. He looked over the buttons on the machine and found one that said "open the door." He pushed that button, and, fortunately, there was a click. He reached down and pulled on the door, and it did open. It would have been too late if he had been just a few seconds later. He grabbed a pod, threw it into the machine, and closed the door. He reached up and pushed the start button, and the machine growled to life.
He turned to the dryer, which had just beeped, signaling the end of the cycle, and opened the door. He started to bend over to remove the clothes when he heard "Showtime" coming from behind him. Realizing that the two guys were behind him, he squatted as he pulled the clothes.
"Ooh, that's only PG-rated, and I was hoping for something X or at least R."
Ethan turned and headed over to the table. He dumped the clothes on the end where the two guys weren't sitting.
"Don't you two have something better to do than harass someone?" he demanded with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Do we?" one asked the other.
"Actually, we don't. But if all we will see is PG-rated, I'm sure we can find something else to do."
They slid off the table and headed from the exit, making sure to walk so they could pass behind Ethan. Seeing the almost faded handprint from earlier, the first guy slapped the same ass cheek, followed quickly by the second.
"What the godamned fuck do you think you are doing," an irate Ethan said as he turned to face the two guys.
"Just manhandled that delectable ass," was the reply.
Before he could say anything, the other guy reached out and grabbed Ethan's barely covered balls and squeezed.
"Although there are other things I would rather be manhandling."
Shocked by the brazen grab, Ethan froze for a moment before springing to life.
"You motherfucking son of a bitch," Ethan bellowed as he started toward the guy.
However, he and his friend had enough sense to run out of the room before Ethan could grab them. Ethan returned to the table and slammed his hand down hard on it.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Damn, this goddamned shit." He grabbed the handful of clothes and wrapped his arm around them, hugging them to his chest. As he did so, two pieces escaped and fell to the floor. Ethan reached over, picked them up, added them to the pile in his arms, exited the basement, and walked back to his room.
Once he entered the room, he threw the rumpled clothes onto the bed and screamed, "Enough." He grabbed his sweatshirt and pulled it on as he reached for his jeans. He had partially inserted the first leg when the door opened, and Sam entered.
Sam looked at Ethan, then turned to Brad.
"See, I told you he couldn't do it and would wuss out."
"Guess I owe you five bucks."
"I have NEVER wussed out on anything in my life," Ethan bellowed.
"Then why are wearing a sweatshirt and putting on jeans? A jock strap is all you are allowed," Sam retorted.
"I..., I was..." Ethan stumbled.
"You were wussing out, just like I knew you would," Sam laughed.
Ethan responded by yanking his leg out of the jeans, stripping the sweatshirt over his head, and flinging it into the corner. He took two steps so that he was standing in front of Sam almost touching him.
"I. NEVER. Wuss. Out." He said forcibly.
"Well then, I guess you should get on with it. But there are at least two demerits here," Brad said.
"Demerits, what the fuck are you talking about," Ethan demanded.
"You broke the rules twice, so I think you should get two demerits. We will decide what the punishment will be later."
"Punishment," Ethan said as a look of horror spread over his face.
Laughing Sam said, "Don't worry. You'll get a choice in your punishment."
Ethan looked lost for a moment before he said, "And what are the two demerits for?"
Brad replied "One -- wearing unapproved clothing, and two -- bringing laundry upstairs that is not folded." As he said this he pointed to the pile of clothes on the bed.
Sam interjected "I would give him a third for disobedience, but maybe we let that one slide."
Brad shook his head as he said "No we can't do that. Ethan here wouldn't like it if we didn't enforce the rules. Would you?"
Ethan grunted and turned to the pile of clothes to begin folding them.
"Oh, no. Those will have to be rewashed," Sam said.
"Why the hell..."
"Because you tried to cheat and we all know how much you hate cheaters."
"But, but..."
"No buts. Of course, you can go ahead and wuss out like we know you want to," Brad snickered.
Ethan gave both guys a double handed one finger salute. He picked up the cloth he had been using to wash the floor with, dipped it into the bucket, dropped to his knees, and began wiping the floor without saying another word.
As Sam and Brad started to leave the room, Sam looked back over his shoulder and said, "On your knees is where you really belong when in the presence of superior men."
"Fuck you," Ethan murmured as he heard the door slam. He stood up and tossed the rag hard against the wall, and took several deep breaths. He looked at the pile of clean clothes on the bed.
"Fuck it and them. They are clean," he whispered as he began to fold and straighten them. How would they ever know?
Thank you to Sir Calvin and his slave william for their assistance in proofing and for suggestions.
For questions or comments, you can contact me at bgklmanlger@yahoo.com
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