Date: Fri, 31 Oct 2003 23:16:09 -0800
From: Tony Hoskins <tonyhoskins03@hotmail.com>
Subject: ballboy to boytoy

Ballboy to Boytoy

By Tony Hoskins <tonyhoskins03@hotmail.com>

Hazelhurst was a classic english parallel of `smalltown USA'; a satellite
community served by fast electric railway service thirty miles from London.
It consisted mainly of middle-class white-collar families with the usual
leavening of wealthier upper-class management executives, the two groups
easily distinguishable from each other by the difference in the times they
left for the city each morning.

 Kenny Groves had just turned 15,was classically handsome and freckled with
blondish hair and the marked poise that is obvious in any product of the
British public school system which,of course,in the curious english way
actually means private school system.He was quick-witted but still innocent
of many of the ways of the world as evidenced in the fact that he tended to
be slightly open- mouthed when not speaking.

 He had been farmed out for the summer to his great aunt and uncle,a
retired colonel, who were both at loss to suggest how a boy his age might
occupy the long hot summer days since their own lives were sedentary and
far remote from the activities of the younger set.They knew however that
the boy was quite a good tennis player.

 The english class system is a strange and mysterious thing that has never
been completely defined nor described nor even understood but it is
undoubtedly there.The principle that `its not what you know but who you
know' on the other hand is universally recognized,practised and accepted
the world over so it was not surprising that at a routine cocktail party
for the upper set it was arranged for young Kenny to earn some extra pocket
money working as a ballboy at the Hazelhurst tennis club with the added
privilege that he could play all the tennis he wished.

 Kenny took to his duties easily; helping the groundsman mark out the lines
on the three grass courts and tidying the dozen other clay ones when he was
not actually acting as ballboy for those that were prepared to pay for
one.He would collect the fees and turn them in to the office since he
himself was paid a salary albeit a small one and was occasionally asked to
make up a foursome himself.

 He became well-liked by all the members with his cheerful attitude and
good manners.His lithe young body in his brief white shorts with smooth
tanned legs drew many a glance and sometimes frank stares from many a young
and not-so-young wife,not to say a surprising number of the male members
but the mores of the time precluded almost all of them from contemplating
any form of advances or hopes of more intimate contact with the boy but
there were, unbeknownst to him, a few distinct exceptions.

 The foremost of these was Cynthia Rhys-Hamilton, a forty year-old rather
petite wife of a wealthy stockbroker and the chatelaine of one of the
wealthiest local families.She was accepted in the local hierarchy as the
`queen bee' and many an up-and-coming young wife had learned by bitter
experience that she was not a woman to be crossed.

 Cynthia was blond,always immaculately dressed,witty,charming when
necessary, and had been the power behind her rather mediocre husband's
meteoric rise to power and wealth.She was president and patron of many of
the local organisations and charities.  She was possessed of an uncanny
sense of people's inner motivations and secret desires all of which she put
to good use.She also happened to be the honorary secretary of the
century-old tennis club.

 But Cynthia also had a darker side. She liked to be, and invariably was,
`in control'.She could sense somehow if a man was gay,for example,and would
very subtly let him know that she knew.  She had seduced many men in her
circle of friends as well as some of their wives, knowing full well that,
besides the enjoyment of their bodies, their seduction put them in essence
in her power. This was evidenced in that no rumour of her activities had
ever seemed to become common knowledge and gossip concerning her was muted
in the extreme and even then, most carefully and reluctantly expressed.

 Her mask of well-bred behaviour and politesse was just that. She would
have made a great friend of the Borgias. One got the impression on meeting
her that all was sweetness and light but one soon sensed that to cross her
path was as dangerous as taking a king cobra for a pet. She would scheme
and plot meticulously when she had some plan in mind and her preparations
always paid big dividends.

 The tennis club was run by a fulltime manager with a capable staff and
Cynthia's office and appointment were purely cosmetic. She sat there one
day,smoking a black russian cigarette, looking out at the pleasant vista of
the english countryside with the rooks cawing in the elms and listening to
the `plung' of a firmly-hit serve return or the well-mannered approvals of
a good shot..She caught sight of young Groves was it? Colonel Abernathy's
nephew running for a mishit ball and kneeling again by the net.

She took a pair of binoculars from the desk and focussed them on the
boy.The game was going well not requiring him to retrieve any stray balls
for the moment. He was on one knee by the net post and, increasing the
magnification to its highest power, she was provided with a delicious view
up the loose legs of his shorts, of his white briefs and the swell of a
substantial bulge therein before the tight hems curved away under his
crotch to the beginning of his obviously rather sweet little bum.

Cynthia's mind started racing; she hadnt had a teenage lover in years and
had always enjoyed the prospect of perverting the innocence of youth. She
recalled how a duchess, who centuries before, when her stable boys reached
the age of fourteen, had them thoroughly scrubbed,dressed nicely and
brought to her to be gently whipped and virtually raped to celebrate their
imminent manhood. Most of them by all accounts had become her devoted
servants for life.

 She stared closely through the lenses at Kenny's smooth tanned legs and
open-mouthed young face feeling a warmth in her groin and a tiny emission
escape into the crotch of her silk Paris-bought panties.

`My God' she thought; what would Basil,her husband do with him?,or Antoine
her hairdresser, or Lance Drummond her young solicitor so well named for
his terribly thin but incredibly long uncut prick.  For that matter what
about Francine her pretty personal maid? Sheila Barnes,her old school
friend who went both ways? Even better,darling Daphne? who would probably
want to have her dildo in his bum while she made him wear her undies.

 But how to go about it? One would have to proceed very carefully.The
seduction of a teenage boy might not be as easy as one imagined. Little did
the `ice maiden', as she knew she was called, dream that the opportunity
would present itself in the very near future.

It was very early sunday morning when two foursomes arrived to play as
Kenny was preparing for the day. They played a set or two and left, tipping
him in addition to paying the court fees. In a rash moment,having a streak
of mild larceny common in all young boys, he pocketed the money and didn't
complete the register which duly passed across Cynthia's desk on
monday. Happy in her private knowledge, she called Kenny in to confirm that
it was correct. He decided to stick by his story; after all, the Hartlands
seldom came to the club,noone had been around nor could anyone therefore be
any the wiser that the fees had been purloined.

It was by incredible ill fortune for Kenny that Cynthia had met the
Hartlands who had described their"jolly good fun game in the early hours"
and she told Kenny of this. She ruthlessly pointed out that this was a case
of outright theft and made him write out a confession,which he did,silently
praying that he might only get a blistering lecture.  To his horror he was
then told that she would mull over as to whether or not to take the matter
to the police or decide on some other punishment. What would his uncle
think?, how could he face the club members? would he have to go to court?.
In the fertile imagination of youth and conditioned by his schooling in
discipline he could almost envisage a bewigged judge donning the death cap.

Cynthia was in a delicious ecstasy belying her stern outward demean. She
was in total control. Before her stood a lovely but terrified boy,willing
apparently to do absolutely anything to avoid the shame and disgrace of
exposure for what of course was really only petty theft, but infinitely
worse in his eyes. In her coldest voice she said firmly "you will come to
my house this afternoon at one o'clock precisely and I will decide then
what to do about you. You can go now".

 Brian was later admitted to the manor house hidden in the trees, by
Francine, Cynthia's tiny, curly-headed French maid who, escorting him to
the study, couldn't resist closely studying the boy's physique with his
bare thighs and fresh young looks. As the door closed he stood there in the
almost dark,bookase-lined, rather stuffy study, redolent of cigars and ink
and gun oil. Cynthia was sitting on a large plain armless chair in the
middle of the room in her tennis dress with a thin leather belt and a wide
short skirt.

He did so and she continued "Nobody else knows of your theft and to spare
many people, especially your family, I am prepared to settle this matter in
private rather than make an official complaint to the police with the
adverse publicity to the club and distress of others. You will however have
to agree to being given twelve stokes of the belt on your backside...You
have exactly one minute to decide one way or the other"

To Kenny, the only choice was obvious. He had been caned before, sometimes
almost brutally by his housemaster, and the disgrace surrounding the
alternative was just too terrible to contemplate.

"I'd rather take the belt please Mrs Rhys-Hamilton" he answered almost
immediately. Cynthia replied "very well, remove your runners ,socks and
shorts and come and stand directly in front of me".  When Kenny stammered
"but.I....but... .I.. err" she snapped loudly "Do what you're told.... at
once!".

The boy obeyed and after unhooking the clasp on his white shorts,shyly
lowered and removed them and went like a condemned man going to his
execution, to stand in front of his judge clad in only his short tennis
shirt and briefs .Cynthia undid her thin white leather belt , and placed it
on her lap. She stared for a whole minute at the thin white cotton garment
only inches in front of her eyes, wetting her lips slightly at the sight of
the sparse golden hairs on the thighs but mostly at the well-filled sac of
the well-worn cotton pouch that outlined all too clearly what it contained.

She reached out to the boys hips and, thumbs in the waistband, pulled the
undergarment slowly,slowly down and leaning forward, her hair brushing his
genitals, lifted each foot to free the briefs which she placed beside her
on the floor. She was now confronted by a blushing, naked, fifteen year-old
in shock at this sudden assault on his propriety. He gasped "please dont
ma'am.....please....please...it isnt right".

The woman was mesmerised A foot in front of her were the loveliest pubes
she had ever seen.The white thick tube of flesh was just over five inches
long with another inch of foreskin hanging gently down over two slightly
rosy balls. Perhaps it was the sudden baring to the open air and the warmth
of her breath that had caused a slight enlargement and stiffening but it
was there. She could scent the faint fernlike odour of a boy's sex,the
slight tang of ammonia in his sweat as well as sheer fear. She felt a
definite sudden strong seeping in her crotch as her vagina emitted nature's
instinctive readying juices into her silken crotch.

Even in her heightening excitement she still had control and knew her plan
must be furthered.She told Kenny to move around to her side and lower
himself over her lap for his punishment. As he did so, she took hold of the
belt quickly flipping up the front of her skirt so the boys naked thighs
were on her's with only the thin soft cloth of her knickers between the
flesh of their respective legs and sexual organs.

Kenny's face and elbows were on the carpet ,his torso firmly weighing down
on her bare thighs as she started to slowly wale his buttocks with her thin
belt.At close range it wasn't possible to use as much force as she would
have if swung at a distance but she put every ounce of force she could into
each stroke She was in her domination mode now; a defenceless boy entirely
at her mercy and she revelled both in his humiliation,his knowledge that a
woman had the power to inflict physical pain and for her, that she was the
first of her sex to reduce him to a submission he would remember all his
life.

Suddenly the tenor of her lust seemed to change;she opened her legs
fractionally and,as she moved her hips slightly to and fro felt the
hardened rod of the boy's member catch on the skin of her thigh and force
itself down between them to feel, oh so deliciously hot, between her
sweating thighs. She closed them tightly rather hoping he might feel a new
sort of pain to add to that of the red welts she was raising on his curved
white cheeks. She also knew that copious quantities of her own juices were
starting to run through and out of her panties to coat the tip of the boys
erection now well freed of its protective covering.

Every time the belt descended, Kenny's hips were forced suddenly downwards
and he was powerless to prevent the friction of his prick in between the
tight slippery and silky thighs of the adult. He could tell that she was
responding to each thrust by pushing upwards herself. Almost exactly as she
struck the twelfth blow, the tight contact of the flesh on flesh along with
the touch of her pantied crotch brought both of them to an orgasm in a
veritable bath of boy and woman liquids.

For the boy, his mind was a complete blur,the experience was so shattering
with so many different sensations; the shame of degradation,the very real
pain of the burning welts on his bumcheeks,the mortification of his first
nudity in front of a woman but yet also the hitherto unimagined ecstasy as
he felt the hot sperm gushing and gushing from deep inside him,forcing it's
way like a torrent through the tunnel of his prick and all over the
surrounding soft warmth of a woman's crotch and legs.

Kenny got up slowly,Cynthia did so more quickly replacing her belt. She at
once resumed her position of authority. The seat of the brocaded chair was
a virtual pool of creamy-white fluid. "Look what a disgusting mess you made
boy" picking up his briefs, wiping the chair with them and then throwing
them into a waste basket. She carefully avoided mentioning that much of the
fluid was her's and that a substantial amount of his also remained drying
between her legs under her white skirt "I'd get Francine in to help clean
up...No.. get dressed and go".  The thought of the young girl seeing him
naked with a sheen of his cum all over his thighs was too much so he
dressed quickly. She was delighted when he found it in him to mutter "I'm
sorry ma'am" when he left.

Cynthia's pretty maid came in the second the boy was gone and guessed what
had happened. "Oh madame he was tres jolie.....please.....please say I can
have him oneday..please madame?". She retrieved Kenny's soaking briefs from
the basket and held them lightly to her pretty round face. She pouted
slightly looking coquettishly at her mistress.  "Please Madame?". But
Cynthia was silent.She was already planning.

(As may be guessed at,this is intended as the start of a series,dependant
on its reception.Like most contributors to these pages I write for my
amusement but also relish the appreciation of readers. I welcome
suggestions,comments and even criticism if well intended. My thanks to
YLeeCoyote for all of those)