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Chapter Text

There had been a certain tension after dinner. Penelope had a meeting so she would have dinner later, and decided to allow father and son to have the meal in private. However, Telemachus was sure of what was going on in his mind, surely his father had heard the rumours about him, about Antinous, and the more he thought about it, the more anxious he got.

Once they were done with the food, Odysseus had drunk half a glass of wine, but Telemachus preferred not to, Odysseus stood up and walked closer to his son, touching his face, like he could exactly what had been worrying Telemachus the whole evening.

His father took both his hands and kissed them.

“You are my boy, my sun. I am sorry for the time it took me to get here. But I would like to make it up to you, to teach you what you needed to know growing up.”

There was a moment of silence, and Telemachus looked down.

“And if something I already learned by other’s hands?”

“Then I will make you relearn it by my own.”

Telemachus thought about that answer before replying.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve heard enough ‘Yes, sir’ for several lifetimes, my son.”

“Yes, father.”

“Show me your bedroom.”

Their walk there was silent, the boy was still nervous about the possibilities of their conversation. Once inside, his father smiled seeing the portraits and drawings in his room.

“Is there anything you would like to know?”

Telemachus nodded excitedly.

They both sat on his bed while Odysseus spoke about his former adventures. Before the journey back from Troy, for Telemachus knew he didn’t want to talk about the past 10 years, but the ten years before the end of the war and the years before he was born were all comfortable topics which brought a smile to his face.

He held his son’s hand as he spoke of his stories, calmly stroking it.

“You are wonderful,” Telemachus said. “So incredible.”

“Everything has been for you and your mother. Even before you were born. But tell me more about you and this palace.”

Telemachus smiled. His father’s hand, despite being rough and calloused, was so warm.

He spoke about his days fulfilling his duty as the prince, but also of his dreams of adventuring and seeing the world.

“Is there any girl in your dreams?” his father asked him.

Telemachus shook his head, perhaps a bit too forcefully, which made his father look at him with a curious expression.

“Is there something you want to tell me about?”

He had heard the comment from one of the suitors, in fact, more than one. About the prince’s preferences, and what they would like to do to him if they caught him. Killing them had been satisfying at the moment, but their words left a lingering bitterness.

Telemachus swallowed.

“I have never felt any inkling towards girls. or women. Only men. At least so far. But I am still very young, it can change any minute, I feel very confused about it, I feel like I need to change just need enough time and…”

His father just shook his head and enveloped his shoulders in a hug.

“You are my son, the Prince of Ithaca, there is nothing you need to change, never forget that. While I am here, you can change, you can develop new tastes and new interests, or you might continue with the same ones. You can but you don’t need to. I am here to make sure you are well taken care of, regardless of where the intentions of your love lie.”

“I am still very confused about it sometimes. I don’t know.”

“I can imagine, if my only experiences with women were not so pleasant, I would have my doubts too. But, son… I want to know. What happened to you. What they did to you.”

Telemachus swallowed.

“Have you ever been with other men?” the boy asked.

His father nodded.

“As a young boy, I enjoyed a bit too much of all pleasures until I met your mother. It was all fun and exploration, nothing too serious.”

“But after that, during the journey…?”

 

“There were certainly men who took relief on each other, who used each other for some relief in the past years. A lot of them did not count that as cheating on their wives, others were already faithful to each other and had no wives. I did not judge them either way. However, I have never touched another’s since I met your mother, man or woman. But I want to hear from you. Your experiences.”

“What have you heard so far? About me?”

Odysseus looked down. He heard comments, about his son’s beauty, how he took after his mother. Most men had not lived enough for the gossip to truly reach his ears, but he heard the comments about his preferences, what the men would like to do to them if they had the chance, and whispers about the one who had gotten the chance.

“The entire palace is enamored with your beauty and tenacity,” Odysseus concluded. “But I want you to tell me. I have heard things, but I want to learn from you. I want you to be honest with me. Tell me as much of the truth as you can, for I would like to build our relationship with trust and honesty. So, do not ever lie to me. You might take your time, but always tell me the truth.”

“Yes, father,” he said. “When I was younger, Antinous arrived at the court, and he was truly renowned, he had seen so much of the world, I was drawn to him and his experience. Then, he convinced one of my tutors it would be good for him to teach me more. As they do in Sparta. Considering our mother’s ancestry, my tutors thought it would be good to have a mentor who had spent time in Sparta, and could give me a more diverse perspective in the world. The tutors also admired the fact that he didn’t need to do that, yet despite being somewhat young, he volunteered to mentor me in whatever way he could. And the first time he taught me, he…”

Telemachus swallowed.

“Go on.”

 

“I don’t want to say improper things in front of you.”

“I have been in the company of men for longer than you have been alive. There is nothing that will shock me, or change how I feel about you.”

Telemachus nodded.

“First, it started with the lessons and the spankings. He would tell me more about Spartan culture from his time abroad, as well as Thebes and Crete, he could even get new scrolls sometimes, and would constantly test me. And he would use any excuse, any mistake as a way to teach me discipline. It was always about the humiliation though. Since young, he would lift my chiton and pull down my zoma, to expose me and spank me with his bare hand until it was red and burning. He never did without an excuse, though, if I complained he would say it was my own fault.”

Odysseus nodded. Spanking as a punishment wouldn’t be his favoured method, but he wasn’t there, he reminded himself. He hadn’t been there to do things right. He was also aware this type of physical discipline was common in Sparta and Crete, especially between a young man and a mentor.

“Continue, what else?”

“What if it's shameful?”

“Nothing will be, I assure you. I am not here to make you feel shame.”

“During the spankings, his hand began to wander, just sort of playing, holding…” he closed his eyes, afraid of the words to come next.

“Go on, son, tell me the brutal truth, I can take it, I promise you.”

“Holding and playing with my ass, my cheeks, just sort of spreading and seeing me tense and clench.”

“You are doing very well with the truth, Telemachus. Keep speaking it. But remember I am very good at detecting lies”

Telemachus blushed, and nodded. It felt wrong to speak of these matters to his father of all people.

“Although people knew that discipline was to be carried out regardless, especially mother, with her Spartan blood, Antinous and I made a certain agreement. Where I would receive my spankings in a way he considered honorable, which meant, without fighting him, without trying to cover myself, even when his touch wandered, and without trying to run away, and in exchange he would never do anything in public to discipline me. It was costly for him, for you see, he wanted my mother to see him in this role as much as possible, someone who I would look up to, someone who guided me and disciplined me. But I feared that too much, thought it would be too humiliating. So, we continued having lessons, and for whatever reason, he always found a motive to spank me, and it was always naked. Sometimes the humiliation hurt more than the spanking.”

“How would he do it?” his father asked.

“What do you mean? Spanking me? I suppose the normal way, with his hands hitting me. That’s what a spanking is.”

His father chuckled but his expression was still in control.

“Not the time for these comments. I meant, would he do it on his knee? Just his hand?”

Telemachus felt his cheeks heat while thinking about these memories and shook his head.

“Usually bent over a table. In the start he used only his hand, but with time he would use a paddle and a leather strap. And then, one day, it wasn’t just spanking. He didn’t just lift my chiton, he took away all my clothes, right as I entered the study for our lesson, I was terrified someone would walk in, now I know he had a deal with the guards to watch the door and not let anyone pass, although at the time I didn’t, so I had my heart on my throat as he took all my clothes and told me the lesson today would be about a man’s body, or in my case, a boy’s.”

“Tell me, what did he do?”

“He touched me, with both of his hands. He couldn’t stop speaking about how small I was, how fragile, how weak.”

“Where did he touch you?” Odysseus asked, trying with everything to sound controlled.

“Everywhere. My arms, my legs, my… He held my… member in his hands, showed me how to get it stiff,” Telemachus tested the words, waiting for his father's reaction, but the man remained quiet, watching him speak. “He penetrated me that first day too. Just. Just his fingers though. Just one, just enough to make me… Finish. That was his first lesson on manhood with me. Examining every inch of my body, and penetrating me for the first time, and as much as I did not enjoy his hands, I could not help but coming on them, a term he taught me that day.”

His father nodded.

“Father? What are you thinking?”

His father’s adams apple bobbed.

“This man touched you…”

“I am sorry. I had no way of saying no, it was…”

“No, no. Saying no could have gotten you more hurt. You did what it took to survive, I understand that. And the truth is, there are some lessons, lessons about pleasure that boys need to learn as soon as it is right. You were taught them, and I cannot be angry at that, for I wasn’t here to teach them to you, however you weren’t taught them correctly. You obeyed because he was officially your superior and you had to follow his guidance, you did the right thing in not fighting him, and in fact, it’s good that you even managed to negotiate terms with him. It shows character and strength.”

“Father, I don’t know what to say.” Telemachus blinked rapidly.

“Come,” Odysseus said, standing up. “Take me to your study. I have amends to make.”

Telemachus didn’t understand what the man meant until they both entered the study and his father closed the door and locked it.

“Where did he do it? The time you just told me about. Not near the window surely.”

“On that first large table. He bent me over.”

His father hummed and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the table, and Telemachus’ heartbeat raced. He felt humiliated at the memories.

“Was it here that you knew you favoured men?”

“I started to doubt things here, yes.”

His father grabbed the back of his thighs, lifting him to sit on the table. Not bent over, like his memory, but sitting. His father stood tall in front of him, using his knee to spread his son’s leg and standing between them, dangerously close to the boy’s crotch.

“I have to correct many wrongs,” Odysseus said.

“Father…”

“Your body. I will learn about it as much as I will teach you, but I know it is not weak. I need you to understand this.”

Both his hands covered the meat of his thighs. He slid them down and up, feeling each muscle of his leg. First the right leg, holding his ankle, and then massaging his calf with both hands, until he reached the knee, and once his father’s fingers flickered by the back of his knee, it tickled and Telemachus laughed.

“You have a beautiful laugh. Did you know you were ticklish here?”

Telemachus, unsure of his ability to speak coherently, only shook his head.

“That’s good. It means I am already teaching you about your body better than that man.”

Odysseus continued his probing, reaching with both hands around his thigh. He felt the muscle, even if not prominent, it was there, and dug into it with his thumbs, reaching as far as the zoma, the fabric of his underwear. But going no further, before he stepped back and took hold of his son’s left ankle, repeating the pattern all again, touching and probing at the skin, feeling the muscle contract and release under his grip, inciting the giggles once he reached the back of his knees. The man wanted to recreate as much of the scene as possible but making it so distinctly different it would arouse different emotions in the boy. Odysseus wanted the name Antinous completely forgotten and left behind for Telemachus. He needed to replace these memories. To make them better.

“Is it good enough?” Telemachus asked once he no longer could stand the silence. “Am I?”

To his surprise, his father kneeled down in front of him. Still between his legs.

“My son, this is not a test. You are good. I only want to know how you developed the last few years. And you developed well. Your thighs are strong, and your calves are stable. If you would like to increase your muscle, we can speak about it later but…”

“Antinous said after a point, my body was permanent, that it would always look like this.”

His father frowned as he stood up.

“It is true that some parts of your body will only grow up to a certain age, you will not get any taller, although you have a good height, it’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said, holding both sides of Telemachus’ shoulders. “If your desire is to obtain or lose muscle, it is something achievable. It is something we can talk about later.”

He slid his hands over his biceps and then back to his shoulders, his face becoming more resolute.

“Breath, my son. This will do you well. I’ll undress you as he did, touch you as he did, but I promise you will feel differently this time.”

“Touch me?” Telemachus gasped as the clasp of his pin was undone. “As he touched me? But that’s not… Fathers aren’t supposed to…”

Odysseus pulled until the fabric fell on his lap, exposing the boy’s chest to his father. The man touched the back of his neck with his calloused palm before going down, circling his collar bone, fingers tracing the sternum.

“Fathers are supposed to teach sons the ways of man. You are right that if I were here before, this isn’t how I would do it. However, I cannot go back. I cannot teach it to you for the first time. But I can make sure my teachings override his. Your skin is quite beautiful, my son. Not unmarked, but not fully scarred either. A young warrior’s.”

His fingers traced the scratches and faint scars from the previous battle. Telemachus bruised easily but also faded them quickly.

Telemachus closed his eyes, thinking about the exact meaning of those words.

“Father…”

Telemachu’s chest was mostly hairless, so unlike Odysseus. He cupped the pec muscles, testing its firmness and softness.

“Open your eyes, Telemachus,” he commanded. “Look at yourself, at my hands.”

“Yes. Father,” he said, looking at his father’s hands on his chest. “Can this change, too?”

“Less likely. Although I don’t know why you would want to. There is nothing wrong with you.”

Telemachus blushed at the comment.

His father thumbed the nipple as it hardened and the boy gasped.

“That,” he said, with his voice trembling. “That I want to change.”

“Sensitive here?” his father asked, pressing his nipple between his thumb and index finger. “Is that it?”

Telemachus bit on his lip to avoid moaning again.

“None of that,” his father said, without letting go of his chest, using his other hand to trace the line of his bottom lip. “Tell me.”

“Yes.”

His father hummed.

“Why is that a problem?”

“He… He said it was a characteristic of bedboys and women.”

Both nipples were hardened by now. And Telemachus moaned when his father touched both of them at the same time, softly at first, just testing as he had done all over his body.

“It’s just a symbol of youth. Another beauty of yours. Women tend to enjoy it quite a bit more, but I can tell you a story,” as he spoke, he kept playing with both nippled, pulling and twisting them to get different reactions out of the boy. “I have walked into a couple in the ship and one of them was completely lost to pleasure while the other had his full attention to sucking his nipples and using his hand to jerk him off, so distracted they didn’t even hear me. So, there is some truth to the womanhood aspect of it, but it is also true some men simply enjoy it as well.”

“Ah,” Telemachus said.

One hand lowered down to his waist and he trembled and had to force himself to keep his eyes open.

“Another memory?” his father asked.

Telemachus nodded.

“He used to say… even my waist was of a woman.”

“There is more than one philosophy of the ideal proportions of a young man. Yours, athletic, but lean are features that mirror the body of Apollo, not Zeus. Is Apollo less of a man than Zeus? Tell me.”

“No.”

“I saw him once. In a vision. Such a beauty, youthful and strong. You remind me of him, sometimes.”

Odysseus could not speak those words, they were a crime in themselves, and could bring wrath of the gods again, so he did not speak them, but he mouthed the words with his lips.

‘your beauty surpasses his.’

“Although Artemis might also be a fit comparison, she is strong and powerful, but with the clear curves of a woman. Even if you have her more feminine traits, it does not make you weak.”
That comment made Telemachus look away, and even his ears were pink.

His father’s hand went lower, to his hip, and the boy was forced to stare at him once again, following the movement of his hand on his clothed hip, the remaining aspect of his chiton preserved.

Telemachus’ heart seemed like it would jump out of his chest with how fast and loud it beat, his breathing became shallow.

“My son,” Odysseus said. “my son. It’s time to relearn some things.”

Telemachus, unable to speak, only nodded and allowed his father to undo the rest of his chiton, leaving it to fall on the floor.

“Lay down. On your back, keep your eyes on me.”

Telemachus obeyed, scrolls rolling and falling on the floor, ignored by both men.

His fathers hand found his hip again, the only modesty he still had, his zoma, the loincloth covering his crotch was nothing but a simple white fabric. Telemachus observed his father’s eyes, calm, and noticing for the first time how his son was already half hard. It still didn’t fully fill the space in the zoma.

“Please,” he said. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this…”

“This is not lovemaking. This is a lesson.”

His father’s thumb found the edge of the fabric and pulled it down, using his other hand to help Telemachus raise his hips and shed the last protection he had.

“Tell me, what did he tell you about your body once he touched you?”

Telemachus took in a shaky breath. His father’s hand was firm right on the base of his hips. He had laid down with the ass as close to the edge without falling and now his father pushed his legs spread so he could stand between them.

“He told me… Father… I, it’s hard to think.”

“Do it regardless.”

Telemachus didn’t need to look down to know he had gotten fully hard as soon as his father wrapped his hand around his cock.

“Small,” he gasped. “A girls. A clit.”

Odysseus laughed and something about it made his cock throb. He stroked Telemachus’ cock slowly.

“No. In Athens, this tiny cock here would be seen as perfect. There, they don’t adore big cocks, they think of them as a sign of barbarians, while smaller ones are signs of intelligence, while bigger ones symbolize brutality, physical strength devoid of critical thought.”

Telemachus nodded, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

“Like yours?” he asked, and immediately closed his eyes. He thought of the naked statue he had seen so many times before.

“Yes. Mine is quite fit for a warrior, but not for a general, or a king. At least for Athenian standards, it is a symbol of pure strength but nothing else. Yours fit so perfectly with their idea of masculine beauty, small and contained. Do you get it?”

Telemachus smiled.

“We are not in Athens. And Antinous did mention…” he moaned. “something like it. He said…”

“Go on, tell me,” Odysseus said.

“He said it was too small even for those standards, that I would be mocked by it, that it didn’t count as a cock, only as a woman’s clitoris.”

His father continued stroking him, until his dick started to get wetter. He thought in fact it was small, but there was something quite beautiful about it. Although he wondered if the reason why he thought so was because his inclinations were mostly towards women, and so there could have been some truth to his words about his son’s size. However, he didn’t think Telemachus needed to hear that now.

“I am giving you perspective, so you can see yourself much better. Now, look here, do you know what this is? It’s precum. I’ve only been touching you for a minute or less and you are already dripping.”

The boy blushed intensively.

His father used the thumb to circle the head.

“Wetness is important, especially here, it will help lubrication and ease the passage. This is certainly a good sign, and not something for you to be embarrassed about. It’s a sign that you are healthy. He touched here, yes?” he asked, rubbing the head as it got wetter with precum.

“He wasn’t focused there. He was trying to teach more…”

“I understand,” his father said. “Stay there, I’ll get some oil.”

Those words had a paralysing effect on the boy, he felt like he couldn’t get up no matter what. That was really happening. He couldn’t breathe.

His father’s expression didn’t betray any sign of lust or of lack of control, it didn’t show any of the lingering desire that had been in Antinous eyes.

 

“I’ll show you how it is first.”

“I know how it is, you don’t have to show me.”

His father continued making circles on his rim.

“You think you know but the way they taught you was improper. I know, my son, this will feel a little uncomfortable in the beginning, but you must get used to it. For I have a duty to impart this lesson to you.”

The traditional expectation of a male mentor would be for him to fuck his thighs, and not his asshole, to teach the boy about the pleasure and his place as subservient. Not to mention, the father was always to be informed of the acts, and had to approve them before a mentor truly took place.

“When there is this relationship of an older man educating a younger one and sexual acts are involved,” he said as he continued to rub on the boy’s puckered hole, feeling the words which made him clench or relax. “The older one, the mentor must have the explicit permission of the father. There is even an existing philosophy that in those relationships, nothing of note should be hidden from the father. However, there were different perspectives on this. In Sparta, where once the relationship is agreed upon, the older man has the same level of authority over the boy as his biological father.”

His index finger, already oiled, entered the boy’s hole, prompting an immediate gasp from Gelemachus.

“Antinous had Spartan blood,” Odysseus continued. “he would have known these traditions. And in the future, for your own suitors, if they would like to take in the tradition, in the ways of Ganymedes and Zeus, where the mentor takes the younger man to a different location for a time, they would have to describe to me, in vivid detail, what they planned with you, and seek my approval.”

Telemachus shuddered at the scene in his mind. Imagining Antinous facing his father and asking permission to spank him every night, to do in his bare skin, to penetrate him with his fingers and to teach Telemachus so many things.

“What would have happened?” he asked, trying to use his words as a way to anchor him, to avoid closing his eyes. “If I was young and someone like Antinous came to you for permission to follow this… procedures, this tradition?”

Telemachus’ moaned with the sensation, being opened with one finger, while being stroked so slowly, it was closer to painful than it was to pleasurable.

“I wouldn’t have allowed them to penetrate you, it must have felt so demeaning the first time,” his father said. “ A young boy like you needed to be preserved, protected. If there was someone kind, but firm, a mentor fair for a prince, who valued kindness and much as discipline, along with the exploration, it would be something to consider. If the man proposed only to use your mouth and your thighs for his own pleasure, but cared enough to teach you about your own, then I would be fine with it. But Antinous didn’t stop there and he certainly didn’t have my permission.”

That was the first sign of anything more than controlled, the first true sign of the anger hidden below. He added a second finger and Telemachus groaned at the intrusion and arched his back. For a few seconds, he didn’t move, only allowed his son to get used to the sensation of his fingers, which were fairly thick.

“Why would any man want that?” Telemachus asked. “I get the part about finding their own pleasure but why would a partner care about mine?”

“In a romantic relationship, it would just make you happy. But in these instances, in a pedagogical relationship between a man and a boy, a man must teach the boy how to value his own pleasure, even if at first you are learning that your pleasure is secondary to the man’s, you will learn more about it, and how to achieve it.” His fingers started moving, and had a simple pattern of pushing deeper and then pulling back until the final knuckle, only to push all the way in again. “Considering how tight you are, he probably didn’t take it that often, did he?”

Telemachus choked at the response.

“A conversation for another day,” he said, and for the first time, spread his fingers inside the boy, scissoring in different directions. “Does this feel pleasant to you?”

“Father… I can’t…”

Odysseus gripped the smaller cock tighter making the boy groan in discomfort.

“I asked you a question. Do my fingers inside your asshole feel good?”

Telemachu’s eyes had tears already as he nodded.

“It hurt in the beginning, but now… Now it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“Continuing being honest. Did Antinous teach you about your prostate?”

If Telemachus could get any more flushed, he would. He moaned at his father’s words.

“Y-Yes.”

Then, Odysseus' hand let go of his dick, instead the man placed it next to the rim, pads of his fingers teasing the entrance that was already being filled.

“What did he tell you?”

“That only bedboys and whores enjoyed anal, and that spot… Not all men had this spot… ah… it was a spot that only the most promiscuous had, a symbol of… ah, father… a symbol of depravity of the mind.”

Odysseus frowned.

“There he most certainly lied to you. All men have a prostate, it’s the reason why, in the morning, your penis is likely to be erect, a common experience for most men.”

“Oh.”

Odysseus went back to work, probing and finding the spot with his two fingers, once he did, Telemachus nearly shouted as he arched his back as much as he possibly could.

“There you go. “The reason some people believe not all have a prostate is that some men truly do not enjoy the experience of it being touched or milked, as we often call it, and it created this legend of the prostate being exclusive to a certain category of people. It isn’t. You do seem quite sensitive to it. More than expected,” he kept pressing in and off on the walnut shaped spot inside his own son.

His own son. Reality struck him, he was in fact touching his son, fingering him, allowing him to seek pleasures from his father’s fingers in his asshole. He would not stop though. His mission was more important. His lesson was necessary, more necessary than his own opposition to it, and his son’s discomforts.

He analysed the face of the naked boy laid on the table. Despite being twenty years old, Odysseus wasn’t ready to call him a man, especially when he looked not a day over 16.

“Father… please…”

“I want you to think just about me, just about my hand, and no one else. Think about how I am filling your hole, how I am touching your prostate, allowing you these sensations.”

Telemachus moaned. And Odysseus didn’t want to bring the boy to orgasm too quickly, he still had a lot to say. He needed his boy to remember him, his father, not the man who came before. Otherwise how could the boy grow up to be a warrior, a leader, if plagued by the teachings of Antinous? No, Odysseus needed to find every important memory of Telemachus with Antinous, and replace it, no matter what.

He thought a little more pain would be enough to stall his orgasm, and considering how tight he was gripping the two fingers, Odysseus penetrated a third one, forcing his asshole to stretch more to accommodate his thick fingers. However, once all three fingers bent slightly, Telemachus was gasping and crying out as he came, producing a transparent-like liquid on his penis from an anal orgasm, with no stimulation of his small cock.

“Father,” he moaned, completely out of breath. “I’m so sorry.”

His father frowned, but he continued pressing on the gland inside him, seeing the boy squirm.

“It’s alright, let me make sure it’s all out and done,” he said and kept pressing, seeing the boy squirm and ride the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Once the orgasm was clearly over, Telemachus had tears across his face from the overwhelming and unexpected sensations of the day.

“Father,” he cried.

“You don’t have to speak now. I can see this was very intense for you. Let me clean you up,” he started to turn to go find a basin and a washcloth, but Telemachus’ legs were quicker. As he was standing in between the boy’s legs, it was quite easy for him to lock his ankles behind Odysseus’ back and keep him in place.

“Don’t. Don’t go,” the boy asked. “Antinous always left me alone after.”

“I am not going anywhere, I just wanted to get something to clean you, to make you feel better. But don’t worry, I will just use my own chiton, I won’t leave you.”

He took hold of the lower part of his chiton and spit on it, then used it to clean the precum on his son’s small soft cock, then trailing down to clean any remaining oil on his rim. The oversensitivity and the roughness of the material made it so the boy squirmed and grunted through the whole thing, even though Odysseus was fairly quick.

He unlocked the boys legs that were still closed around him, and proceeded to grab his zoma and his chiton, and carefully dressed the boy again.

Telemachus saw clearly the hem of his father’s white chiton stained, darkened by spit, precum and oil.

“You should.. You should have used my own.”

His father shook his head.

“I wouldn’t want to get it dirty, do you think you can stand up or do you need me to carry you?”

Telemachus blushed and got up, despite his legs being quite shaky.

“Good,” Odysseus said and led him back to his bedroom and helped the boy to bed. Once he left the bedroom, Telemachus thought it was done, and kicked the chiton to the floor, he liked to sleep just with his zoma. But in fact, his father had brought a wet washcloth and a basin to clean him. Kneeling by his bed, his father pulled his zoma to the side in order to properly clean his tiny dick. Then, he made the boy turn on his side, so he could make sure his hole was also properly clean.

“Isn’t that better?”

“Yes. Thank you, father.”

Telemachus moved to lay on his back and stretched his arms as he yawned.

“Son. I know what we did today was although necessary, was very intense, and your body had a strong reaction to all of it, but especially to me leaving. I would not feel right leaving you alone tonight.”

Telemachu’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Make room for me. I am not asking. I will not make you touch me if you do not want to, but I will not let you sleep alone and I will not sleep on the floor.”

Quickly, Telemachus moved the furthest side of the bed, and his father undid his own clothes, having only his zoma as well, and got into the bed with Telemachus.

Despite what he said about his son not having to touch him, in a matter of minutes, the boy was wrapped around him, resting his head on Odysseu’s chest.

Chapter Text

By the time the sun rose, Telemachus was still deep asleep, but Odysseus was already awake. He felt relieved the boy did so well during the night, he slept quietly and seemingly without nightmares. Odysseus had been scared of how he would feel spending the night alone, and he feared it being too similar to Antinous’ methods. He also knew that in some cases, women after really intense sex would feel extremely sad afterwards, without being able to explain why. It was something he had seen, and although what he did certainly didn’t count as sex, as he said, it was a lesson, he feared his son might have some intense feelings throughout the night and wanted to comfort him in case that happened, like he would for Penelope. However the boy slept very peacefully.

With only the faint lights of the morning, Odysseus observed the young man’s body. Lean but with muscle. His eyes focused on the two little pink nubs he had teased the previous night. He remembered what his son said, about wanting to change that, wanting to make them less sensitive. There were also the row of comments that Antinous made about him, about why he enjoyed anal penetration, and the size of his cock. And the problem was, Odysseus didn’t agree but he also knew there were a lot of things the man said that had a hint of truth.

And in that first night, Odysseus never expected for his son to have a dry orgasm on his fingers, to come just from his asshole and prostate was not impossible, but really rare. He said nothing of it at the time, but he imagined the boy felt about it the same way he felt about his sensitive nipples, like the sensitivity was too intense, too much like a woman's pleasure. Something he wanted to change.

These thoughts tormented him until he was forced to get up, change clothes and head to the library and look up scrolls. He had never truly studied in depth about male sexual maturity and now he regretted not having done so, not preparing properly for the type of teachings he would have to impart.

It took some time to find scrolls that talked about it, and he sat down to read some philosophical theories and discussions on the nature of masculine pleasure and sexual achievement and hated some of his own preconceptions had been confirmed. Anal penetration was meant to be enjoyed only by the erastes, the active partner, the older man, the one entering. The receiver was supposed to feel demeaned, humiliated, being taken as a woman. Odysseus had to think. His son had made a mention of being ashamed of how sensitive his nipples are, how he wanted to change it, he clearly was ashamed of those tendencies, of enjoying anal fingering so much he came strictly on it.

He continued reading on it. The main idea seemed to be that the mentor should decide to either punish or reward the boy if he demonstrated the women like desires, for the boys were supposed to be concerned in serving, and in learning from their mentors and leaders, not to be concerned with his own pleasure. The scroll ended with a warning, that despite the authority that both the father and the mentor, the erastes, had, and in s being free to decide what to do in response of his desires, the philosopher warned that, if those urges were not contained, the boy would have difficulties growing up and enjoying sex as a man should have, through penetration, first and foremost with his penis, not anus.

Reading that, Odysseus knew there was a road where he took that warning to heart, and focused on punishing the boy’s instinct that enjoyed it, tried to remove it from him.

However, he had another path. The boy was so shy and embarrassed that his father was the one doing the sexual activities, and if he continued, if he continued touching the boy like that, just doing so, just by being his father and instilling that level of shyness and embarrassment, Telemachus would stop enjoying the feminine traits like having his nipples pulled and his asshole penetrated. It was possible that having his father touch his hole and his tits just like Antinous had would in fact erase those sensations altogether, giving him space to develop the pleasures of a man, through his cock.

Still, he felt conflicted. Too conflicted to make a proper decision that would certainly affect his son’s future. He simply didn’t have enough information at hand.

He let out a sigh, and went to find his writing materials. There were good scholars in Ithaca, they even came to welcome him on the day after the massacre, where he was crowned King again. He remembered the name of the one who spoke the most about medicine and philosophy, and how the two elements helped each other. He wrote down the name of the scholar and started to write the proper letter.

“I have a matter of most discretion. As a present from another reign, I was sent a young boy to serve me, I could not deny it, and they assured me the boy was trained for a long period of time. A boy who is very feminine in some aspects. He enjoys penetration, and derives pleasure from having his nipples teased. While those elements seem fine while serving an erastes, how would he go about becoming less sensitive in those places? If he wants to grow up to be a man who enjoys penetration and not being penetrated, what could he do now to decrease these tendencies? I would like to help him overcome these issues, which method is most proper and safe for him? I plan to give him a place to work in the palace, he is very diligent and eager to serve, however before I do that, I must train him out of those tendencies.

I’ll await your response. Remember confidentiality is of supreme importance. Any rumours regarding this spread, the price won’t be paid in coins, it will be paid in flesh and blood. ”

It took nearly a week for the response to arrive. In the meantime, he had told Telemachus to think about each memory he would be willing and ready to share, and think about it with patience. Once with the scrolls in his hand, he skipped over the formal greetings and went straight to the meat of the text.

“I looked over the scrolls we have on male maturity and sexual habits, and did some research among other specialists, and there were some key elements I would like to share. I cannot tell you how much they would be helpful to you, since it seems to be a very specific case but these are our findings. There are elements that are for you to consider:
Pain
Humiliation
Wrongness
Over sensitivity

 

A key element of growing out of it is pain and a feeling of uncomfortableness. If your goal is for him to stop serving you and no longer crave these womanly desires of penetration and nipple play, it is believed that pain will be a crucial tool. Nothing too harsh or he might be too afraid of your hand, however, engaging with a proper spanking or caning of the boy’s buttocks and even anus while he is stimulated could help to train him out of it. A way to apply this logic to your case would be to spank the boy’s ass and hole while his nipples are getting played, and to spank his nipples and chest while penetrating his anus or teasing his prostate, or even just any other anal play.

However, some of these boys have grown to be more resistant to it, so the next item on the list is a more psychological pain, that of humiliation. The feeling of humiliation could come from the words you or others speak to him, and you might have to test yourself which type of degradation he responds more intensively to. Examples of those types include speech in which you compare him to a woman, or to a whore, that is the most common in order to instill shame. Others have found success in speaking about a public audience, and describing how the audience would react to seeing the boy’s reactions. There is also a possibility to have a public humiliation, however as I have discussed, it seems like there is enough effectiveness in just speaking about a group of people or even a specific person watching him. A philosopher I spoke to mentioned how our minds react to certain images, and so mentioning for example, the boy’s parents, especially his father, seeing him in that position, seeing him feel pleasure, will make him lose interest in these desires.

Another aspect of the humiliation is the type of penetration that is being used. Most of these boys only experience fingers and penises inside, however a shift in that might make it feel stranger, and more uncomfortable to the boy. Single household objects being properly oiled and used for penetration have an intense and strange feeling to the boys. It is only natural for men to feel a sense of wrongness when they experience any anal penetration, however, as you have noticed, some boys are quick to be trained out of it and to enjoy it. Using some different object like the tip of a cane or the hilt of a hairbrush can bring back that sense of “wrongness” that has been lost.

In the aspect of unfamiliar penetration, one specific text I researched mentioned a different method. As I mentioned, the boys in this stage are most familiar with fingers and penises inside them. However this author wrote about bringing a slave boy into the baths, cleaning well, and when he misbehaved, after a spanking, he bent the boy over and licked his asshole, even penetrating it with his tongue as the boy cried and squirmed. The different texture of the tongue is supposed to feel quite strange, and particularly demeaning and humiliating.

This is a more recent theory that medics are still testing, but it is based on a solid philosophical foundation, so I believe in calling your attention to it. There are some who believe there is a physical proper limit to how much pleasure a boy can feel and withstand within a short amount of time, and once the boy passes that limit, once his pleasure senses are overwhelmed by being taken over the limit, he will feel physical pain instead of pleasure. The idea is that the gods only allowed humans to feel a certain amount of pleasure and to go beyond it is to invite an equally intense pain. And the intensity of that overwhelming pain will be enough to keep the boy from wanting more. It’s also theorized that for that to happen each and all of the orgasms must be of an extreme intensity and repeated in a loop for it to properly go past his limits. If you would like to test these ideals, I do hope you remember me and tell me of your findings in detail. However, if your goal is to unlearn only the desires for nipple stimulation and anal penetration, those should be the only things touched, otherwise, by touching his penis, and including it in the overwhelming experience, he might find it too painful as well and lose interest in that area. So, if you are to follow this path, please, only overwhelm his anus, his prostrate, his nipples and chest.

There, however, is another way to induce an overwhelming sensation. This one you might have heard of before, as it is used often to punish unfaithful husbands, and used to train slaves. As this boy isn’t either of these options, the connotation of you applying this type punishment to him might be enough to break out of the spell of those improper desires, however it might also hurt him psychologically to be compared to a slave, so I advise this method with caution. It is, as you probably know, the act of peeling ginger and inserting it inside the anus. It causes a burning sensation strong enough to bring grown men to tears. It is often applied along with a spanking, since the more the boy clenches in response to the hits on his ass, more of the ginger oil is released and so the burning sensation is intensified. Another advantage of this method is that you can use the ginger oils as the lubrication and no more oils are needed. Be warned in that case, it will be an intense feeling.

These were all the methods that are meant to be safe to be applied to a boy of proper age who is experiencing those desires in abundance. With enough restraint, none of these should cause any psychological damage or physical harm, however some of them might be proven to work only short term. And in that case you might have to decide if you prefer to try a different route or if you would prefer to keep repeating the method until it lasts longer. A common warning among the authors and scholars is that once you decide on a type of punishment or training for the boy, you must carry it out to its end. It would hurt him psychologically more if you started to punish him, for example with a spanking, and gave up half way through because he started to cry, for example, that would hurt him. This type of behavior will make him less sure of the boundaries and the expectations, less likely to trust your word. Unless a true emergency happens, it is imperative to carry out the punishment to the end, even if it’s not a pleasant experience for you. It often isn’t a nice feeling to have to punish someone who is kind to you, who serves you and obeys you, but as much as it might hurt you, it is a common thread among the authors that a punishment decided is a punishment served, never anything less, even if it pains you. That’s why I detailed all these practices so you could think well before acting on either of those.

If my research so far has not been sufficient, please let me know and I’ll research more strategies or go more in depth into them in order to help.”

 

Odysseus let out a sigh.

It was good that some of his theories were confirmed, but the scholar had done his job too well. Odysseus still felt determined to override Antinous’ memories and lessons, to be the father he needed to be, Odysseus needed to keep having sessions with his son, to learn more about what happened in the past years and make sure the boy always thinks of him as his guide, as his mentor, as his disciplinarian, and no one else.

However, he remembered the tremble on Telemachus’ voice as he asked about changing the way his nipples were, how sensitive they were, and repeating the words that Antinous had used on him, about him being a woman, about him being weak, all because of those intense reactions the young boy had. If he wanted the boy to see himself differently, Odysseus needed to reduce those desires and reactions, no matter which method he decided to go with, he couldn’t allow his son to continue to be determined by those words, those strong reactions and desires. It was a tough decision but, clearly, it was for his son’s own good.

Chapter Text

“Father, you asked to see me?” Telemachus asked, arriving at the room where Odysseus had just finished having breakfast.

“Yes,” Odysseus said, pulling a chair for the boy to sit next to him. “I would like for you to attend the meeting with some of the army generals later today.”

“Truly?”

“Yes. I want you to listen and observe. However, there is something I would like to try today, I would like to hear another memory of yours. Remember, I am very good at catching lies. I have found some scrolls on discipline and sexual maturity that were very compelling. But before all that, I want to just hear from you. How are you? Is there something troubling you?”

Telemachus blushed at the words of discipline and sexual maturity, but sat down next to his father.

“I don’t know what to say, Father, I am fine.”

Odysseus raised his eyebrows. The latest evenings, while he was sleeping with Penelope in their wedding bed, he slept soundly. However, in the morning, a servant told him that Telemachus woke up crying and screaming the name Antinous, but before any servant could reach Odysseus’ bedroom and alert him, Telemachus went back to peaceful and silent sleep.

“I can see the circle under your eyes. Do you want to try that again?”

“I have been having some nightmares, sometimes.”

“Since when? How often do they appear?”

“I guess… It started this year, approximately. But they are very rare, I promise.”

His father hummed.

“What was your dream about?”

Telemachus looked at the remaining food on the plate and thought before answering.

“I don’t really remember,” Telemachus said, looking down. “they really don’t happen often, so there is nothing for you to worry about.”

Something in his father’s expression became colder and he stood up.

“Follow me,” he said, heading for Telemachus’ bedroom, and sat down on his bed. “Now. Bend over my knee. I know you aren’t very familiar with this position, unless your mother has made you. Has she? Spanked you on her knee?”

Telemachus looked to the side. Antinous was the one who liked him bent over, but never over him, it was usually just a table or a bed.

“Not that I remember. But I don’t understand why you’d…”

“Either way,” Odysseus interrupted. “It will be different now. You don’t have to take off your chiton now, just lay down over my knee.”

“Father?” Telemachus asked, frowning. “I don’t understand.”

“Don't you? Come now, bend over. Be thankful we are doing this in a bed, where your whole body will be supported and the experience will be much nicer. Come now. It's a much colder and impersonal experience to do it just by bending over and touching your toes, or the way Antinous did it. Here you will feel my presence, my touch, throughout.”

Telemachus obeyed but slowly and cautiously, going to the bed and bending himself over his father. He had already told the man the story about Antinous liking to spank him for any reason, and considering that in that evening they only retried the aspects about Antinous touching and finger fucking him, Telemachus was sure his father had decided to leave the spanking aspect behind. So this couldn’t be about recreating his memory from that particular event.

“Do you know why you are here?” Odysseus asked.

“You brought me here?”

Odysseus gave a very light tap of the back of his thighs. Just as a warning.

“Behave. And do you know why I brought you here?”

“No.”

“First, you told me you were fine. That was your first lie. You should have told me about your sleeping problems and how you must be feeling tired or stressed. Then, you told me you had a nightmare, but that it was something rare that happened differently. However, I asked around this morning when I heard you woke up in the middle of the night. And servants told me this has happened before for at least 3 years. And then finally, I asked what your nightmare was about and said you didn’t remember, when I could tell from the look in your eyes you did.”

Telemachus swallowed. They were small lies, everyday lies, no one called him out on that type of thing.

“I am sorry. They were just… I didn't mean to lie.”

Odysseus’ hand rested on his lower back.

“I think you did mean to lie. No one forced you, it wasn't done by accident, you chose this path.”

Telemachus pressed his face into the mattress. And as a response, his father brushed the back to his head with his calloused fingers.

“You are right, father. It's just… They are small lies. I didn't even really think about them. For so long, whenever someone asked about these things, I just brushed them aside and said I was well. Please, forgive me. I don’t want to get spanked again. And I don't want to get spanked for everytime I have ever told someone I am fine. I am a Prince, the Prince of Ithaca, I can't go showing vulnerability like that. Even mother, even when she asked me, I said that I was fine and I lied. Will you punish me for that? It's so unfair.”

Odysseus bent to the side to place a chaste kiss on the back of his neck.

“No, my son. It is good for you to show only strength and resilience to others. You are a Prince, you have your responsibilities. But not to me. You will be honest, fully honest with me. Even if it bothers you, even if it's uncomfortable, you will not lie to me. Ever again. Spanking your ass is not a measure I'll take because I am angry. If I was, if I truly was, then I would have done it right there, in the dining room, where any servant or guard could walk by at any second. But I brought you here so I could discipline you in order to train you out of his behavior in the kindest way possible. No one will hear or see anything, it's only you and me. And pain is the most basic way to train your brain out of these behaviors. So it ends up being the kindest.”

Odysseus’ hand started to travel, from the end of his shoulders blade to his tailbox.

“I told you I am done with lies, so let’s try those questions again.”

“If I am honest, am I free from the spanking?”

Odysseus laughed.

“No. That’s not how it works. You lied to me, so you are getting the punishment you are familiar with, but differently, different enough you’ll just remember me and no one else. But if you cooperate and tell me the truth then I won’t go as hard as you can. How are you?”

Telemachus took a deep breath.

“I am tired because I didn’t sleep very well. I missed you so much sometimes I don’t believe you are even here, I worry I am going to wake up and you’ll be gone again. And I hate sleeping and having nightmares.”

“Has that happened before?”

Telemachus closed his eyes and his father continued tracing the line of his spine with his fingers.

“Answer me, Telemachus.”

“Yes. Since things started with… Antinous.”

Odysseus rubbed a soothing circle over his son’s back.

“Thank you for your honesty. And now tell me what did you dream of?”

Silence.

“Telemachus, don’t make your punishment worse.”

 

“It’s childish.”

“Go on.”

“I dreamt that you went away and Antinous was still alive, he had returned, and he was living in the palace still, and I had to hide from him.”

“What else?”

“He was going to touch me in my bed at night. But I woke up before that. I am sorry father, I know he is dead.”

“That’s not what you should be apologizing for. The fact is you tried to cover up. I won’t blame you for not telling me this, but I assume your dream with him was still pleasure in some ways. Do you know why I know this?”

“What?”

“Because the maids who change your bedsheets every morning report to me, and only in those days of poor sleep do the covers show signs of your seed spilled.”

Telemachus choked.

“That’s.. Father.. You can’t… That’s too embarrassing to even think about.”

“I am here to keep an eye on you. But thank you for answering my questions honestly. I will go easy with you since it is your first proper spanking with me, and your first disobedience as well.”

“Yes, Father.”

Without more ceremony, Odysseus lifted the chiton and then pulled his zoma down to expose his ass.

He made two tentative spanks on each side, nothing too strong but enough for Telemachus to feel a bite.

“Has your mother never spanked you? Really?”

“No. Tradition. You were the only one supposed to do that.”

“And when Antinous started to teach you, he had the permission to spank you as much as he liked.”

“I was also younger, less mature than now and…”

Telemachus gasped from the level of pain he just experienced from a single swat from his father. That same strength got applied again and again, the man covered Telemachus’ ass with as many spanks as possible, leaving no spot without the impact of his warm hands, and with every hit, Telemachus jumped a little. Despite the reaction, as Telemachus jumped and squirmed, Odysseus spanked him.

“This is the honesty I want to share. I think I dreamt of this,” Odysseus said as he spanked his ass, making his ass brighten in red. “So I want you to endure this as much as it is a punishment to you, it is a reward for me.”

“-wh what?”

The intensity of the swats grew and tears prickled his eyes.

Odysseus grabbed the meat of his asscheeks as he spoke.

“I knew being a father wasn’t just about the proofs of affection, but,” He punctuated each of the following words with a distinct slap on Telemachus’ skin. “disciplining you was a dream. Being your father, responsible for punishment and reward. That is a dream come true. All I wanted was to be with you. Be your father in every sense of the word, not just for the easy parts. This is a difficult thing, I take no pleasure in hurting you, but it is a privilege to be the one to do it.”

By the time he finished speaking, each word having been enhanced in meaning because of each of the spanks that marked them, Telemachus’ was panting, breathless. He imagined the scene, how he hoped his father would return and take him through wars and battles, while, Odysseus had fantasized about this, about spanking the boy.

“Truly?”

His palm connected with the flesh of Telemachus’ ass, but without striking, just rubbing it, feeling the warmth.

“To be good and fair, but also firm with my own is something I believe in. I wish so much I was here when you were younger, when spanking over the knee was the standard and would make you feel less embarrassed and less shy.”

“I am not,” Telemachus said.

“If you say so, let me continue brightening your skin. This is about you lying to me so early on. Lying to avoid consequences is a trait of children, not of young warriors, so I am going to continue your punishment until I am satisfied.”

 

And he did, even when Telemachus tried to raise his back to protect his ass because it kept getting sore of the sound spanking it was receiving, Odysseus made sure to secure him well.

“You know,” Odysseus said. “Kids take a while to truly develop a sense of shame. That’s why so many fathers are comfortable spanking or disciplining their sons in this manner in public, facing others.”

Telemachus froze.

“No. No. Please not in front of others. I’ll be honest, about everything, I promise.”

“Good. No large audiences, then, but I want you to think that while this hurts, it is for your own good, for you to grow better. Without this, these tendencies to lie to me could develop and develop. But as long as you remember this pain, the pain of having your ass spanked by your father, while you are bent over your father’s knee, you’ll do better. I want you to know I am doing this because I care, because I love, and this pain isn’t just punishment for punishment. It’s because I care for you, because of all the affection I have for you that I have to keep spanking you.”

After the spanking had gone on for several minutes, Telemachus started to sob. It was very different, with Antinous, he was being told about how weak and pathetic he was, but now in a different moment, Odysseus kept repeating how his motives were rooted in love and care for his boy even after he stopped spanking and started to rub the pain away from his son’s cheeks and massaging the back of his thighs.

“Obedience is key in the military, and the world we live in. Your ass now will remember that. And a week from now, I am going to pull your chiton and lower your underwear just as I did today, and next week we’ll do it in your bedroom, a place where you feel safe and protected and keeps you calm, and again I place over my knee, I will spank you again, just as intensely as I did this first time.”

“What?” he demanded, tears covering his face. “I thought we were finished.”

 

“Today’s session is. And while I understand putting a facade for others, you won’t do it to me. You’l tell me about your dreams, especially when they have to do with sexual practices. You might not understand now, but it might mean something, so many gods communicate themselves through dreams. So tell me, spare nothing from me. In the case of the dreams, the servants will know once you spill, or once there is a precum on the bed, the maids will let me know, and you will obey me, be honest with me.”

“Can I say something? Honestly?” Telemachus asked, trying to bend his neck back in order to look at his father.

“Stay in position,” Odysseus said, holding his neck and forcing him to relax. “But you are free to speak, honestly.”

“You were unfair today. When you asked about the nightmares. You knew the answers, but you asked me anyway. That was unfair. You tricked me.”

Odysseus hummed.

“I didn’t see it as trickery.”

 

“And I didn’t see a simple I am fine as a big lie worthy being punished for.”

Odysseus’ hand stilled.

“Go on. Make your point.”

“I’ll be forthcoming with you, but no tricks from your part. No asking me things you already know the answer to.”

Odysseus continued to brush the strands of his hairs and and back of his head.

“Negotiation and making demands, then.”

“You said your dream was to be a firm but fair father. I think that compromise is fair.”

Odysseus had to obligation to comply with any demands, not as his father and not as his king, and yet, he nodded.

“I accept these terms. You’ll be honest and you’ll be cleansed of every trait of that man and the suitors, but I am responsible for that, and won’t trick you into speaking. Understood?”

“Yes, father.”

“Very well, my son. Now. Stay there. I like seeing you in this position, it is very endearing.”

“Father, that is embarrassing.”

“It’s true. Now, I want you to close your eyes and tell me another memory.”

Telemachus obeyed. He already had one in mind.

“This was before the last moment we talked about. Before the first time he... entered me, there were other times where he would just… touch me. The first time he reached behind me, he spread my cheeks and he… He tapped …”

Telemachus hid his face on his bed.

“Go on, don’t be shy, tell me everything in detail.”

“He tapped my asshole with two fingers and told me… He told me that hole belonged only to two people. My father and him. Well, you two and whoever you chose to spread me to. And since you were not there, he got to make all the choices. From then on, he said he would use my hole as much as he would like. Since it didn’t truly belong to me. That first time he didn’t even enter me, just kept teasing my entrance with his fingers, rubbing my rim, talking about how much he wanted to use my asshole…”

“How did you react to that?”

“I didn’t even get what he meant by using my hole. I kept telling him… it felt wrong and dirty, and he ignored me. He even… he even…”

“Go on.”

“He spit on it.”

“it?”

“Directly on my asshole. More than once, until I could feel his saliva dripping down my taint. Worst of all. I was bent over the table as always, but he told me to reach behind and spread my cheeks for him, so he could see my hole better, in his words. I didn’t understand why he wanted that, and it was very embarrassing to be so spread out and open for him, it felt so vulnerable and open and then. He… touched himself, right behind me, and he kept moaning my name, over and over until… I didn’t get it at the time, I just heard him moan my name until another wet feeling, stickier than spit being spilled directly my hole. I was very confused, now it was his seed.”

Odysseus could imagine the scene very clearly, but decided to ask regardless.

“Did he come directly on your hole? Was that why he wanted you to hold yourself open?”

Telemachus nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for his father.

“Complete and verbal answers,” Odysseus demanded.

“Yes. That’s why he asked me to hold my ass open for him while I was bent over the table.”

“And after that? What did he do?”

Telemachus breathed in deeply, pressing his face into the mattress before speaking.

“Same as before. He used his fingers and rubbed it against my hole, called it a pussy, made me feel very weird. I even… I even got a little hard, and he made fun of my dick for that. That’s the full truth, I promise, I don’t want to get spanked again.”

“I believe you. What happened after that?”

“He told me to take care of my cock myself, if I was pathetic enough to get hard just from that, I would deal with that on my own. And I wasn’t even fully hard, I promise, father. His touches just confused me so much.” he said, “ I told him I felt weird, that my ass was weird, all sticky and didn’t really understood how it got that way, I didn’t get how coming worked for men.”

Odysseus brushed his son’s curly hair softly.

“You were still a boy, still learning. You are still a boy, be patient with yourself. Did he touch your cock while he spoke it?”

Telemachus shook his head, brushing his nose against the fabric covering the mattress.

“He told me to touch myself or not to. That it wasn’t his problem. And he just pulled back his chiton and walked away. My ass was burning from the spanking, and my hole felt so weird.”

“And how were you feeling? You, my son?”

“Confused, confused about my stiffness, it started to fully harden, and I was confused about what to do, how to deal with it. I hid in the study for a few hours until it went away by itself. The next morning, Antinous heard I got late for a meeting with my mother and he made sure to spank me again, even though I was still sore.”

Odysseus nodded and guided his son to his arms, forcing him to sit on his lap, even though as soon as Telemachus’ ass made contact with the rough fabric of his chiton, he grunted and tried to squirm away, his fathers arms were strong and firm, holding him there, even if it hurt.

He hugged his son, and the boy let his head fall on the older man’s shoulder, using the sleeve of Odysseus’ chiton to dry the remaining of his tears.

Odysseus patted his son’s back.

“You are doing very well with the truth today. You learn fast, don’t you?”

“I try.”

“I know. Tell me, did you get hard at any point today?”

Telemachus’ face burned and he was glad to be able to hide from his father.

“Will you spank me?”

Odysseus’ hand, the one patting his back lifted slowly until he reached the back of Telemachus’ neck and he grabbed him by the hair. With barely any force, he pulled the boy off his shoulder and forced him to meet his eyes.

“I am your father, you should tell me the truth, regardless of whether I would spank you or not. But you have to trust me to make the best call in this instance, even if it hurts you. Be honest. And I won’t spank you, I am not tricking you.”

Telemachus took a deep breath and let go.

“A little bit at the start, but then the pain got too much and it went away.”

“Good. You are doing well. I am going to put on you my knee again and I don’t want you to complain or fight me, understood?”

“Yes,” he said, but he sobbed. “yes, father.”

He didn’t move, he simply allowed his father to move him back to laying on the bed, hips lifted by his father’s lap and ass well exposed for him. Telemachus’ heart raced, he hadn’t really expected to get another spanking once the man told him they were done. However, he did admit to the twitchings and hardening of his penis, so maybe his father didn’t want him getting hard from a spanking.

Odysseus’ hand brushed against the hot and reddened parts of his ass. Not hurting nor hitting, just brushing, very lightly. Once Telemachus’ breathing slowed down, Odysseus’ hand reached down, to the back of his thighs, and then it went deeper, to the inner thighs and he pulled one leg closer to him, and then pushed the other away, spreading Telemachus legs wide.

“I want you to close your eyes and focus just on the feeling of my hands, the texture, the temperature. Focus on all that.”

“Yes, father.”

And he reached back to hold both of his son’s cheeks and spread them, enjoying how full they felt on his palms, and the sight of his tiny hole.

“Your body is so beautiful, my son. Any man or woman would be blessed to see you like this, to see how exposed you look with your legs spread, it should be forbidden. How pink your hole is. How tight it looks. I wish you could see yourself as I do. Take in a deep breath. That’s it, inhale. And now let go. Good. Now let’s do it again.”

The following time he inhaled, Odysseus spit directly on his asshole. Telemachus had a full body shiver. Then he used his thumb to spread the spit across the puckered hole.

“I think I see the appeal, now,” Odysseus said, spitting on his hole again. “Your hole is already pink and tight, but with the glistening of the spit, it would make any man go crazy trying to have you.”

Telemachus’ cock throbbed underneath him, hardening after being spit on again. He squirmed once he felt his father spit on him again.

“It is an enticing but forbidden sight,” he said, thumb pressing against the spit on his asshole. “It’s such a nice dark pink color, I can see why some would want to call it a pussy. However embarrassing and shameful it may feel to you, your reactions are something else.”

“Father…”

 

Telemachus started to want the spanking again in order to avoid the comments and the hardening of his cock. His cock throbbed at the words.

“It isn’t, of course. It’s just a very pink, and right now, very wet, asshole. Hum. I sense you getting hard above my lap. Be honest, Telemachus, is it because of what I am saying or because of the feeling of someone repeatedly spitting on your hole?”

Telemachus grunted.

“I don’t know. I don’t like it either way.”

Odysseus nodded.

“Of course you wouldn’t. My boy, it can’t be easy when your manhood is so connected to your hole, that it reacts so much to such a flimsy touch, just from brushing and teasing, and oh, you are already dripping precum.”

“This is… humiliating.”

‘Good,’ his father thought.

“Your hole is so sensitive, even your whole ass, I am sure it was humiliating with the way Antinous teased and treated you, but we are changing that, slowly but I will change it, so you won’t feel humiliated, won’t feel like any man could put you on your stomach, and take you, make you feel pleasure, even if you don’t want it, like with Antinous. I am just being honest. I’ll do anything to help you, I would do anything in the world for you, but I am not here to lie to you,” he said and rubbed the little wrinkles on his rim. “I am just being honest about what I see. You are so sensitive here, so womanly, that even when your father is touching you, even when you have all the reasons to feel repulsed, but your body just responds well to these touches and these words.”

Telemachus’ hole clenched under his father’s fingers and Odysseus couldn’t look away.

“Other… other men don't react like this. Do they ?” Telemachus asked.

Odysseus shook his head.

“No. Some men enjoy this to an extent but you are so sensitive here. So soft and pliant,” His father said, using the pads of his thumb to feel the wrinkles of his hole. “I get why Antinous would be enamored with how you react. Since the first time he touched you here, since he tapped your hole, spit on him and rubbed it against your rim, and even came directly on you as you held your cheeks open for him to do so. And through out that, even if you were confused, if your mind was still struggling to understand what was happening, your body knew how to react. Your body experienced humiliation and shame on your most intimate places and reacted with arousal. That is not something you or I can't ignore, my son.”

“But what does that mean? What can we do?”

Odysseus covered his index finger in spit and slowly entered him.

“First we'll continue as we always have. Substituting your memories of Antinous and his touches with my own in order to correct the mistakes of the past. Just having me, your father, be the one to enact these things on your body should be enough to at least subconsciously start a change in your reactions. As we go along, I'll make sure to measure your physical reactions in order to shape them. Because that's what you want, isn't it? What you, as a man, want. To achieve pleasure properly. Not to humiliate yourself every time someone, anyone, touches you here.”

Telemachus shivered as his father punctuated each word with a tap to his hole. They were particularly strong, but his asshole was so sensitive, even those light taps with two fingers without entering him gave the boy full body shivers.

Until the small taps increased in intensity until they became light spanks directly on his hole. Each of them sent sparks through his spine, and made him tremble with the sensation.

He kept going until Telemachus could feel his hole become reddened and puffy. He couldn’t help but squirm on his fathers lap. His cock had hardened, and unlike with the first spanking where the intensity of the pain had made him soft, the more his father touched and flicked his hole, the harder he got.

He knew he was dripping precum and that his father could tell it too, as it was dripping on his lap, even if he didn’t comment on it. The silence made Telemachus think about what Odysseus had said. How sensitive he was there, how even the touch of his father, which shouldn’t have aroused him, in fact, should have made him soft and disgusted, was making him drip and throb in pleasure, however ashamed he felt. His father was right, he was vulnerable to his own pleasure.

“Telemachus. Unlike Antinous, I won’t leave you to take care of your hardness alone, I won’t say it isn’t my problem. I am here for you, to help you.”

Telemachus didn’t see it, but he heard the sound of his father spitting, but the spit didn’t fall on his ass. He turned back to see the man spitting on his fingers.

All at once, his father penetrated Telemachus with both fingers, all the way in. Telemachus gasp with the sudden intrusion, not just because two at once were forcing his hole to accommodate the size of the man’s thick fingers, but because after the taps and flicks to his hole, it was sensitive in a painful way. He could feel how reddened and puffy the hole was and it made it all the more painful as it struggled to accommodate the two fingers pushing inside relentlessly.

Instinctively he tried to move away, but Odysseus kept him in place.

“Shush, let me do this, son. I have to replace this memory, this moment for you.”

Telemachus swallowed a sob over the pressure inside him.

“It’s too much.”

“I know, I know,” Odysseus said, but didn’t relent, he kept going, pushing both fingers in and out of his hole, and every time he entered the hole, Telemachus grunted and flinched in pain. “But it’s the only way. You just need to take it, the pain, I know it hurts, doesn´t it?”

“It does,” Telemachus cried.

“You’ll feel it so intensively, I know, I am sorry, my son, I love you, I am just trying to take care of you,” Odysseus said, and added a third finger, burying all three of them deep inside of him without hesitation.

“Father! Father!” Telemachus cried out, tears spilling onto the bed from oversensitivity.

His cock was brushing against the fabric of his father’s tunic and he kept humping it as his father fingered him hard and tough, pushing in and pulling out, making him twist in pain with each thrust inside him.

His father bent forward slightly to spit on him again and then, as he entered him again, Odysseus curled all three of his fingers hard, as hard as he could, on the most sensitive place inside his son’s hole and watched as he sobbed and spilled on his father’s tunic.

 

Still, Odysseus didn’t stop, he kept pushing that bundle of nerves and sensitivities, pressing three fingers and releasing it only to press it again but harder and harder. Telemachus cried with each time, sobbing loudly and trying to escape the touch. But Odysseus kept on milking him until there was nothing left for him to spill and the boy was completely soft once again.

 

“I know, I know,” Odysseus said, pulling his fingers out and using his chiton to dry his fingers and then the boy’s hole, making him gasp. “There, I’m just making sure you are proper. It’s over. It’s over for today.”

Despite it, Telemachus was still crying, and he forced the boy onto his lap, hugging him tight and allowing him to cry on Odysseus’ shoulder.

“It’s all going to get better, but you can cry all you want when you are with me, there is nothing for you to hide, allow yourself to feel this, to cry as much as you want,” Odysseus said. “We’ll work on this together, I promise.”

Telemachus didn’t reply, only let himself relax in his father’s arms. And while sitting on his lap, Telemachus noticed his father, despite his size, was still completely soft and dry. A stark contrast to Telemachus’ state. The boy couldn’t help but see the point his father was making, he was too sensitive, too vulnerable there. Man, Kings like his father, did not have such a reaction but him, the son, his body wasn’t repulsed by the idea of his father touching, spanking and pleasuring him. Even if his mind wanted to reject the idea, his body was too soft, too womanly and sensitive to the point even the touch of his own biological father was arousing to an extreme. And in that case, he could understand why Odysseus was trying to help him, trying to change his body, his hole, so it wouldn't be this perverted and sensitive.

Chapter Text

Odysseus was relieved. After his arrival, there had been a chaotic adaptation phase, where he was so busy putting the government together and dealing with the council, he hadn’t had the time to spend as much time as he wanted with Telemachus. As things slowed down, he found time to adjust their routines to each other. Telemachus followed him to the key meetings, and in the afternoon, Odysseus took some time to train with him and observe with him with more attention.

He was proud.

Telemachus was intelligent, quick in battle, and focused on the task at hand.

Still. He was… Sensitive. Not just his body, but with every new move, every time his father tried to teach him something new, anything he didn’t master right away, Telemachus would be in a bad mood. Odysseus found it quite strange but it compelled him to know more, to test it.

 

They had just finished training with the sword. Athena had taught him well with the spear, so Odysseus focused on sword and archery, where his skills were weaker, especially in comparison to his spear fighting, which was his strength. Still, their archery was done with traditional bows, he wasn’t ready for Odysseus’ bow just yet. Every time they trained it, though, Odysseus could tell in his eyes how much Telemachus desired it. This time, instead of moving from the sword to the bow as they often did, Odysseus had a different idea.

“Have you done any wrestling?” Odysseus asked.

Telemachus blushed.

“No. Just... I’ve just seen it. Antinous did it, but he never taught it to me.”

“He did? The traditional way of wrestling?” Odysseus asked. He hadn’t expected the Antinous mention.

“Yes. We held a few tournaments. He won. I was even… I was even the one who placed the laurels on the winner. It was right after the match as well.”

Telemachus blushed, remembering the scene, the fully naked men, covered in oil.

Odysseus nodded and ordered the servant to bring them two jars of oil for them to anoint themselves with, and once delivered, he ordered them to close the door of the training room.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Do we have to?”

“Wrestling is done with no clothes, and with oil, so you cannot grip on the opponent's clothes, it is a battle of sheer strength, and a useful skill to develop.”

Odysseus didn’t take his time undoing his chiton and facing Telemachus naked. The boy, on the other hand, was blushing and looking down the whole time. Despite having seen so much before, with the afternoon sunlight covering the room, it felt so much more exposing than it had when he was in the bedroom or the study.

The wrestling session was… unproductive. If Telemachus would get in a bad mood whenever he struggled with something like sword fighting, something he already started to develop a solid base in, his mood turned completely foul learning something from zero. Especially, with the uncomfortable feeling of his father putting him down and against the floor several times and making corrections upon corrections on his form, his posture, his technique.

As it went on, Telemachus’ mood only got worse. Once he was sent on the floor again, his father straddled his hips and Telemachus closed his eyes.

Odysseus got closer and placed a kiss on his forehead.

 

“It will get easier with time, I promise,” Odysseus said.

“We’ll have to keep doing this?”

“Not everyday,” Odysseus said. “But yes, that’s the only way you’ll get better.”

Telemachus pouted and Odysseus touched the bottom lip with his thumb. He liked how full it was.

“Can I get up now?” As Telemachus spoke, Odysseus continued tracing his bottom lip.

“Let’s try a more polite approach, shall we?”

“May I please get up, my one and rightful king?”

Odysseus very lightly flicked his lower lip.

“You are in a mood today.”

“I am not.”

Odysseus ran his eyes over the boy’s body. Telemachus wasn’t hard, but he had gotten semi hard several times during their wrestling session, and eventually went soft again as his frustration grew.

Odysseus stepped up and offered a hand for his son to help him stand up, but Telemachus insisted on doing it on his own.

“Are we done now?” Telemachus asked.

“Somewhat. Wrestling always requires some clean up time. Let me help you back into your clothes and we’ll get to the baths. I already arranged for hot water to be prepared for us.”

Telemachus insisted on dressing himself up with his tunic again, despite Odysseus having offered to help. The older man simply wrapped his own tunic around his hips without fully wearing it.

“Let us clean ourselves.”

First, Odysseus led the boy to the baths, telling him to ignore any servants along the way, who brought the warm water for the baths.
Once they were both under water, Odysseus sat down and pulled him so Telemachus was on his lap.

“Father…”

“It’s all good, Telemachus,” he said. “It was my idea to do wrestling, let me take responsibility for it and clean you up.”

He used soap on the majority of his body. Even as he touched his cock and ass, Odysseus was brief and clinical as he wiped the rest of the oil. After taking care of himself as well, Odysseus insisted on helping Telemachus out of the bath and covered his crotch with a clean tower as he asked the servants to come in and exchange the water. Odysseus himself had no shame in being seen naked.

Telemachus was blushing, despite having covered his private member, he felt exposed, like the servants knew exactly what they were doing.

Once the water was exchanged, Odysseus stepped into the bath and extended his hand for his son to follow. Telemachus did, looking down the whole time.

“Stay standing up. Let me wash your body properly.”

“Father, I know how to wash myself.”

“But I want to be the one to do it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Odysseus pinched one of his asscheeks as he spread the soap over the sensitive but plump region.

“I told you about this. ‘Yes, sir’ is what the men in the army say to me. What do you say to me?”

“Yes, father,” Telemachus said and crossed his arms, allowing the older man to clean and wash his back, despite his annoyance at the situation.

His fathers hands reached his lower back and twitched, not moving any lower.

“You won’t remember this, but I was the first one to give you your proper bath as a baby. You were very fussy then as well, but after you spent enough time in the water, you would relax. When you were born, the moment I held you, you stopped crying. Something happened to me then, I knew as soon as you came into the word, you would love me as your father. Even though you were too young to say this, deep down, I felt loved. I cared for you and it made me feel so loved, even though you didn’t really know me. You couldn’t say anything, but I still felt it. You were born loving me, and I never doubted that. And every time things turned difficult in the war or on the journey back, I would think of those little moments with you, the way you trusted me, even though you had no reason to, you still relaxed when you were in my arms.”

Odysseus looked down and he felt his chest tighten. There was a prickling sensation on the corner of his eyes. His breathing became out of his control.

“Father?”

In an instant, Odysseus wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him into a hug, his chest pressing against the boy’s back, still keeping the boy from looking back and seeing his face, seeing how emotional and fragile Odysseus felt.

“I am so sorry. I am trying not to get emotional. I just thought. You used to be so small, but mother said you were bigger than me when I was born, and I just thought that couldn’t be possible. You were so tiny in my arms. Look how much you’ve grown. You are an adult, you’ve grown so much without me.”

Telemachus nodded, not expecting those words and unsure what to say.

Father, are you unwell?”

He tried to turn around to face his father, but the man held his waist and kept him in place.

“I just wondered about all the moments in between those days and today. I imagined you growing up, learning as you stopped being a child, you as a teen, your puberty, gods, to be there once your body started to change so could see how much you changed, how much you were developing and more than that, more important of all, I could have been helpful to you. Guided you. We could have had so many memories in baths like this, where I would teach you about your body as you journeyed from boyhood to manhood. I wish I had been there. I wouldn't allow any servant to do it, it would be me holding you, teaching you about your body and the proper characteristics of a young man.”

Again, still unsure of what to say,nTelemachus took hold of his father's hands in order to ease the grip, turned around and hugged him, held on to his father until the man’s breath slowed once again.

“Did you know I was apparently an awful baby?” Odysseus asked.

“No.”

“Yes. Mother always complained, I was always crying, I cried at the wetmaids, I bit my mother breast constantly, was always making a fuss. I was expecting the same chaos and stress that I put my parents through. But you were different.”

“I was?”

“Since I had you, I knew you were perfect the moment you were brought into this world, I had no desire for another son.” Odysseus said. “When you were born, I was ready to give myself completely to fatherhood. I wasn’t going to have a second chance, I needed to get it right with you, as soon as you were here, as soon as you were born perfect, the perfect boy, I told myself I couldn’t make mistakes, I had to be the perfect father for you. You were so nice to your mother, so sweet, nothing like my constant biting. Even when you cried, it was so sweet, it never bothered me when it woke us. And in the end, I couldn’t even be here for you. Let alone be perfect. And I would have tried. In the same way I tried to be everything Penelope could have wanted in a husband, I would have tried to be everything you needed as a father. Especially when you started to grow up, I would have taught you the ways of men so you could smoothly grow into yourself. I wish to be part of a journey which has already ended for you. Look how much you’ve grown.”

Telemachus nodded, not expecting those words and unsure what to say.

“Not grown everywhere,” he said looking at his lap.

“A symbol of intelligence and not of brutality,” Odysseus countered, knowing exactly what he referred to. “I wish I could have been there for you, to help you see yourself as I see it, to see you grow up, to lead by example and teach you all I know. I don’t want you to be younger again, I just wish to be part of the process which got you here, to be the one to teach you. I imagine how a younger one, seeing your body change, and I would have done everything in the world to help you see yourself the way I do. Showing how your body will mature further on and what to expect. I would have smoothed the transition, taught you in a way I never was taught.”

“Teach me all now. Show me.”

Odysseus eyes sprinkled with light at the offer and he didn’t think before continuing to speak.

He took Telemachus’ soft member in his hand, and grabbing the boy by the back of his neck and forcing the boy to look at it.

“I’ll show you, to make you understand your own manhood,” Odysseus spoke slowly, as if to give time for the boy to process the meaning of each word.

Quickly Telemachus’ dick started to swell with the intimate touches and the wording. Odysseus spoke about their manhoods, explaining carefully the functions, how sensitive the tip was, how he had to clean it, pull the foreskin back to clean his tiny hole with water to get rid of his remains of urine there. As he spoke it, he showed, thumbing the tip of Tele’ dick, noticing how he grunted in response. He played and pulled with the foreskin, while Telemachus squirmed.

Once he was sure the boy wouldn’t look elsewhere, he used the hand that had been wrapped around his neck, he took his own cock in hand, so they were facing each other. Odysseus’ fingers were not super long, but they were thick, calloused, and once his fist closed, it covered Telemachus’ dick completely, while his own was much longer.

He told Telemachus about how getting hard was a symbol of arousal, but that if his body was still adapting to it, he could get hard despite not being fully sexually interested. He told him if he needed to get soft quickly, cold water, despite not being pleasant, would be much quicker than trying to bring himself to completion. Telemachus nodded, but felt unable to speak cohesive sentences. It wasn’t just the arousal from the touching of his sensitive member, it was all those caring words Odysseus had said, about loving him, caring for him, it tugged on his heart in an unexpected way. A way to dissolved all his moodiness from earlier.

Telemachus remained silent apart from whining and moaning at his father’s hand fondling him. Odysseus’ hands lowered as he spoke more about his balls, and even added a comment about how small they were, how delicate. He explained that was where his cum was before he orgasmed, and the more he went on without coming, the heavier and more uncomfortable his balls would feel.

“Father… Can I say something? Just.. You can continue in a moment, but can I please just say one thing before that?”

“Go on.” Still, odysseus didn’t let go of his son’s dick.

Odysseus expected him to complain, especially considering his earlier mood. He expected the boy to go on about being an adult, about not needing his father’s guidance, since deep down, Odysseus knew he didn’t need to be explained and taught the basic functions of his own body.

“In the same way that I need those lessons with you, so you can completely ruin Antinous memories for me, so you can command and shift my body and all its shameful aspects… Even when I don’t like it, even when it makes me feel so embarrassed and uncomfortable. I believe you when you say it’s something I need, for my own good. I believe you that those moments are necessary for me, even if they feel shameful and embarrassing. However, I think… In that same way, I think moments like this, like right now, are just as necessary for you. For you to heal. I think you need to do this, not just today.”

Odysseus lowered his head until he rested his forehead on his son’s shoulder.

“I love you, my son. Can I keep going?”

Telemachus nodded.

Then the hand lowered to the back of Telemachus’ thigh and pulled it up until his leg rested on the edge of the bath.

“Can you maintain this position without slipping?”

Telemachus nodded and shivered as his father’s hand went past his balls and reached his taint.

“Another sensitive place, for most men, as it is common for it to be massaged by lovers or servants in order to cause relaxation in the muscles and doesn’t involve any penetration, nor any womanly pleasures, there is no shame in it. Perhaps one day before fighting you could have your massaged more thoroughly, so you see how it feels.”

“Yes, father.”

“Stay in position.”

Odysseus walked so he stood around the boy so he could more easily trace two fingers on the boy’s crack.

“And here, here you must take a good care. It must be very well cleaned and pure. Even more important for you to be very clean than in some other places. If you were preparing for an erastes position that didn’t involve getting fucked there, but instead in between your thighs, it is common for men to open up the cheeks so they can stare at the hole as they cum. So, if you wanted an erastes position, good hygiene is mandatory.”

“Thank you, father.”

Odysseus frowned.

“And yours is already very clean. In fact. It’s always been very clean whenever I played or teased your hole. Very well taken care of.”

Odysseus wondered if it bored Telemachus to be explained what he already knew, but Telemachus spoke up.

“How… How you would have taught me about that? About cleaning there?”

‘How long would it take for you to look and you call it a pussy like Antinous did?’ Telemachus thought only.

Odysseus took a deep breath. The pads of his fingers rested on Telemachus’ hole and it clenched harder than before. It pulled him back to reality and away from his own thoughts as he figured who Telemachus was thinking of.

“What was Antinous like in that regard?”

“Father… I am not sure I can keep this position for much longer…”

Odysseus nodded.

“On your knees. Bend over the bath,” his father said. “And thank you for telling me.”

Slightly breathless, Telemachus obeyed.

“Spread your knees wider and tell me,” Odysseus demanded.

Again, Telemachus obeyed, regardless of how warm his face felt, especially in that position, spread wide and bent over.

“It was one of his earlier lessons. From the first time he touched me, I might have said something about it feeling wrong. Feeling dirty. And when he talked about entering me, I kept telling him I wasn’t a woman, that.. there wasn’t the place for him to do anything, that it was too wrong, too dirty.”

Odysseus was reminded of the topic in one of the exchanged letters, about the sense of wrongness. Antinous had noticed the boy had that sense of wrongness, a sign he wouldn’t enjoy anal, and still decided to train him out of it.

“He taught that… That every morning I had to take extra good care of it…” he grunted.

“Of it?”

“My asshole. But he called it my pussy. Before he properly touched me there. He would… Examine me. Push my legs apart and look at my ass, but he said it was my pussy, and he had to test it, to see if it was properly clean. It was so humiliating, father. He would go on and on about it, how pink it was, how pliant, how he couldn’t wait to start stretching me, and I was so confused. But the humiliation and embarrassment of those moments with him made it so I kept a routine of cleanliness for him, to avoid even more humiliation at his hands.”

“And you kept up that routine?” It wasn’t really a question, he knew his boy was well taken care of.

“Yes, Father. I make sure I am both clean and smell nice. It became purely a matter of routine, just another habit.”

Odysseus kept reaching back and forth from his taint to his hole with his two fingers.

“Tell me more about those inspections with him. How did they go.”

“Just as I said. He would examine me. On my bed, often before breakfast, but not always. He said he wanted to see if I was keeping my….”

 

“Your? Go on, tell me.”

“If I was keeping my cunt clean and ready for him. He either called it my hole or my cunt or pussy. He touched with both hands, spreading as much as he could, he could see and tease every wrinkle. It was… awful. But it wasn’t everyday, I think he just liked to surprise me some mornings, but the lack of predictability made me worry about it every morning. So I would be extra careful in the baths, cleaning myself well, hoping next time he would spread my legs I would feel less insecure, less strange. It always felt a little wrong. Embarrassed. Especially the day…”

Odysseus felt the moment his body tensed and his hole clenched hard.

“Tell me. In every detail.”

“One day, I used a special soap, a different soap. There were some new imports and it was… Lavender scented, I believe. And he really enjoyed it. He…”

Telemachus hole clenched, relaxed slightly and then clenched again. Odysseus took in that information attentively.

“What did he tell you?”

Telemachus shook his head.

“It wasn’t just what he said,” he said, and his hole clenched again and didn’t relax. “He came closer and closer and very loudly, he inhaled it. He smelled it and said he liked my cunt with the flowerly, female smell, that it was the way it was supposed to be. I tried to stop him, but he restrained me and when I kept fighting he told he would have another one of the suitors, or even one my tutors to hold me down while he did it, or I could just allow him to keep doing it and no one else had to know. So I… allowed him.”

Telemachus’ hole was still clenched tight, and Odysseus teased it, forcing it to relax under his touch. It only lasted a moment, and after he went back to clutching it tightly.

“Go on. There is more, isn’t there?”

Telemachus nodded, blushing harder than he ever had that afternoon.

“He spread my cheeks, talking about how sweet it looked and then he… Oh you can imagine.”

Odysseus circled his rim, understanding it.

“It’s not about how much I imagine it. I want you to tell me.”

“Antinous opened me up, came close, so close I could feel his breath, him inhaling and exhaling right over my hole. And he licked me, licked my pussy with his tongue, over and over again. Father, you must believe it, I begged him to stop it, I said I didn’t enjoy it, that it was wrong, embarrassing, so awful, I tried to fight him, but he promised me if I kept fighting him he would get my tutors in to hold me down, the suitors, or the guards, and allow them to see our tutoring session, which he was allowed to conduct however he wanted. He said I could complain and squirm all I wanted, but I couldn’t try to escape him, So he kept on going, licking me there, tasting me with his tongue, with his lips. It was so demeaning, he didn’t relent when I begged him to stop, when I said it was too much.”

As he spoke, Odysseus kept notice of his hole, clenching and tightening, relaxing for a fraction of a second and then tightening up again. Once he finished speaking, his hole properly unclenched.

“Thank you, my son, for telling me. You hated him doing that, tasting your hole, your pussy, didn’t you?”

Telemachus nodded.

“Then I have a suggestion for you. Do you know what day is tomorrow?”

“No…”

 

“Exactly one week away from the day I gave you a spanking. I promised you there would be a punishment for the second part of the day.”

“No.. No. I was already punished, that is not fair!”

He tried to get up, but Odysseus pushed him back into the position.

“Discipline. You need to understand it, and it's a lesson that takes time. Of course a spanking needs to be followed by at least another one, just to remind you of the costs and the lesson you are supposed to be learning. However, I have a different idea.”

He pushed in his finger in his son’s hole, just up to the first knuckle.

Telemachus gasped, arching his back. The finger was wet but it wasn’t the same as oil.

“What do you prefer? A spanking tomorrow or your punishment today?”

“Father, you can’t mean…”

Odysseus pushed in a bit more, up to the second knuckle, and Telemachus grunted with the intrusion.

“What do you hate more? Getting spanked or getting... licked there?”

Telemachus eyes widened and he tried to still his breathing.

“Is it just a spanking? Or will there be more of the other stuff?”

Odysseus shook his head. The part about punishing his hole was part of their training, the discipline about his lying was the traditional spanking.

“It would be just a spanking, bare, as always. So, what do you prefer?”

Telemachus thought about the warmth on his ass from the spanking by his father and the intrusive awful feeling of Antinous wet tongue and demeaning words.

“The spanking.”

Odysseus pulled his finger out of the boy’s ass.

“Very well.”

He held both his cheeks with his palms, spreading them even more, allowing more of the cold air to touch him.

Telemachus frowned at the splashing sound of the water. He could swear he heard his father kneeling, but there was no way.

Before he looked back, his entire body shivered as his father’s tongue traced a path from his taint to his hole.

“Father, no… Please. I said, the spanking!”

Odysseus licked his lips.

“I heard you. But my first question was which was you would hate, which one you would have the least enjoyment from. Of course, the punishment needs to be the one you take the one you hate the most. And I never lied to you, I never said I would do what you asked, I thought I was quite clear with what I meant. Now, you can squirm, but stay in place, and endure your punishment.”

Odysseus went back to spreading him and licked his hole. With the movement, Telemachus’ cunt clenched and twitched as his father licked him. He had started with the taint, but then he focused on just the pink hole, twitching in response to his touches. He made sure there was enough spit in the order for it to drip down his taint, so Telemachus could feel the humiliation from having his father’s spit drip from his ass, just like it had from their discipline session from the previous week.

He licked and licked, feeling the texture of wrinkled hole on the tip of his tongue, and licked down, feeling it on the back of tongue.

Telemachus grunted, trying to close his legs and tighten his hole, but Odysseus kept him open. Once the boy clenched as hard as he could, Odysseus flicked it and Telemachus jumped as a reaction, and relaxed his hole enough for Odysseus to push his tongue inside.

“Father! Father, no, please, stop. Father, that’s wrong, please, no, no.”

Odysseus didn’t mind, he knew it was a punishment either way. Just like with the spanking, Telemachus just had to accept that it was happening. He wanted to reinforce it, but his tongue had to maintain the rhythm. He started to pull back, leaving his hole and then entering it, as far as he could and then pulling back in, licking and sucking on the rim in between, while Telemachus begged.

“Father, father! Please, stop, please, not inside, please not inside me, not there, stop this, please please, father, this is not right, this is wrong. It’s dirty and it’s wrong, please, father.”

Telemachus cried and his tears fell from his face to the bathroom floor, but Odysseus continued, it was part of the punishment.

“This is so humiliating, please, father, I’ve learned my lesson, I did, I am not going to lie to you anymore, father, please, stop this, it’s too wrong. This is awful.”

Telemachus sobbed as he felt like his body was overwhelmed with sensations as his father’s tongue entered him and flicked his rim and as Odysseus’ lips pressed on his rim, sucking it in between his lips. His tongue reentered as he ignored Telemachus cries about how humiliation it was, how he wanted his father to stop and to quit it, that he had enough, words spoken brokenly the more his father penetrated and fucked his hole.

The words faced in the back of his mind as Odysseus focused on keeping the punishment as harsh as he could, he pressed as hard as he could, and instead of fully pulling out, he flicked his tongue inside of the boy, in the same direction he used with his fingers. Instead of pulling back, he flicked his tongue over and over the same spot as his son stopped being able to pronounce full sentences and he just cried “father” over and over again until the man flicked the spot inside him as hard as he could with his tongue and the boy screamed as he came and all tension left his body.

Odysseus pulled out and stood to find the orgasm, perhaps with the the warmer air of the hot water made the boy faint.

In the back of his head, he noticed he had gotten hard, just halfway. He couldn’t explain why. And as long as Telemachus didn’t notice it, Odysseus was ready to pretend it never happened.

Carefully, he pulled the boy out of the bath, being careful to clean the small amount of nearly transparent milky liquid out of the boy’s small cock, typical of a prostrate ejaculation. And Odysseus thought the differences on the liquids would make an interesting lesson, like they had at the start of their baths.

He took the boy from the baths to his own bedroom, and after an instant of deliberation, decided to lay on the bed with him, and await for him to return. He pulled the boy so that Telemachus’ head rested on his chest.

It took only a few moment for his eyes to flicker open but Telemachus didn’t properly react, just inhaling slowly and then closing his eyes again, choosing to nap, instead of moving away

His father brushed the strands of his hair, trying to pull the boy out of his sleep. It took several tries of his boy flickering his eyes and then going back to sleep until he turned to his father, eyes widening as he processed the information and pulled himself away from the man’s chest.

“Father! What are you doing here? What? I…”

The boy frowned and reached back to his sensitive hole.

“That wasn’t a dream…” Telemachus whispered, blushing.

Odysseus wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled the boy back to rest over him.

“It’s over, we are done, you did very well. Just relax for now. I know it was overwhelming, but it’s over.”

Telemachus couldn’t properly process his words, so he just allowed himself to be pulled down to an embrace on his bed.

His father didn’t feel the need to speak and Telemachus decided to follow suit. The older man went back to brushing the strands of his hair, slowly patting his head. They continued in silence until a question that had been burning in the back of his back came to focus.

“Will you tell me why exactly you got in such an awful mood today?”

Telemachus sat up, but bit his lip instead of answering. It agave his father another chance to examine his naked torso, the curve of his waist, and the pink of his nipples.

“I thought you wanted me to be the one to teach you and train you,” Odysseus continued. “Do you want someone else?”

“No. I want you.”

Odysseus sat up as well to face the boy. He could tell his son was feeling vulnerable.

“Then why?”

“I feel… insecure,” the boy said, eyes closing. “I am trying to prove myself to you, trying to show you my worth, but you only want to focus on things I am not as capable as. I am telling you, I promise, I can do really well with the double edged spear. But you never want to train me in the spears, it’s always the stuff I am bad at. It's like you want me to see you fail.”

Odysseus took both of his cheeks in his palms, forcing the boy to face him, but Telemachus still had his eyes closed.

“My son. Look at me. You have nothing to prove to me. You make me proud everyday. We are not focusing on spears because Athena taught you already, she is superior to me, I am not sure I could add anything of value. I don't think I would be of any use to you.”

Telemachus frowned and tears started to build at the corner of his eyes.

“Why can't you see this? Why are you being so stupid? It's not about being useful! I don't care about whether you are “of use” to me. I don’t care. It's about you being there. I want you to see more than my weaknesses and flaws.”

Odysseus’ arms fell to his side, freeing the boy from his grasp.

“Oh.”

“I want you to be there. Just for you to see”, Telemachus said and bit his lip.“I want to earn just a bit of praise too,” his voice was lowered as he spoke it.

Odysseus nodded.

“Next time then. You have my word, we can practice with the spears. You make me so proud, my son. When I am making corrections, it is not because I think you are inadequate, but because I find you very capable overall, and so you can handle the corrections because you improve fast once you put your mind to it. But it’s me teaching you, not any other men or fighter because you are already so good, and anyone else apart from me or a god would be beneath you. You are determined, capable and quick minded. I couldn’t ask for anything else in a son.”

The tears crossed his cheek and dripped to the floor.

“You should say that more.”

“Of course. I don’t praise you enough. I should do it more. I will set some time for us to train with the spears. However, I want you to have in mind that my corrections are always done out of love. Not because I find you weak. But because I believe you could be even stronger than you are now. Can you believe me when I say these are my motivations? That I am not trying to make you feel worse.”

“I can, yes.” Telemachus nodded, but it didn’t stop the tears.

“Good. Another situation where you just have to accept it as it is. You just have to take it and trust me that I have your best interest at heart. And I already know you accept everything else. You are doing so well with our training, both in and outside of the bedrooms. A weaker man wouldn’t have endured so well.”

“Father. Father.”

“Just tell me, what do you need?”

“Hold me, please.”

And Odysseus did. Opened his arms and enveloped his son in a tight embrace. He inhaled the smell of his hair and was delighted with how it was slightly sweet. His sweetest joy.