Date: Thu, 7 Jan 2016 06:46:34 +0000 (UTC)
From: Koos Smit <kooss@rocketmail.com>
Subject: BEACH FRONT BOY CHAPTER 12

Beach Front Boy

Part 12

After breakfast the boys started leaving in groups to walk about the
foreshore, go to the beach, go to movies or do whatever else they might
want to do on their weekend off.

After my exhausting night introducing Michael to boy sex, I was planning on
taking advantage of the nearly empty ship to do some catch-up snoozing.
Dirk, Johan and Stefan would be spending the weekend on board as duty crew,
since their backs were still lividly welted from their initiation whippings
of the night before.  Our rule about this was intended to avoid drawing
unwelcome attention and awkward questions about what was going on aboard
Skobbejak, especially given our boys' propensity to go shirtless at every
opportunity and given that there was every opportunity to do that on the
Durban Beach front and Foreshore.  Jul, of course, would stay with Dirk,
since the two of them had recently announced that they were `boyfriends'.

As I have explained before, in the subtly nuanced social structures that
operated on Skobbejak, this did not mean that they would necessarily only
have sex with each other, but it did mean that they were exempt, if they
chose to be, from the rule that required all crew members, within reason,
to be open to the sexual advances of any other boy.  (There was in fact a
very practical reason for this rule: I did not want a situation where, in
an all-boy establishment, stronger boys might stake some sort of exclusive
claim to the sexual favours of those weaker than themselves, as happens,
for example, in prisons, reformatories and in some boys' homes).

However, as Dirk and Jul had just recently adopted the status of
`boyfriends' they were still very much in a `honeymoon' phase where they
had eyes (not to mention hands, tongues, lips, anuses and cocks!) only for
each other.  For this reason I did not expect to see too much of these two.
I was quite sure they would seclude themselves in one of the empty cabins
and spent the day enjoying the opportunity for privacy and intimacy denied
to them in the open-plan living conditions of the crew's quarters.

Keen to continue the exciting journey of sexual self-discovery that he had
embarked on the night before, Michael had made strenuous efforts to seclude
himself with me in my cabin for the day in order to continue where we had
left off before breakfast.  But instead I handed him over to Johan and
Stefan with instructions to continue his sexual training.  Michael was a
little dubious, but Johan and Stefan were only too happy to have a job that
would relieve the boredom of looking after an empty ship, especially as it
involved `breaking in fresh meat' (as Johan described it).

`Can we use your cabin, Uncle Jonathan?', asked Johan.

 `Sure', I said, and they eagerly led a half-reluctant Michael below.
Concerned that Michael might withdraw into his shell at the prospect of
having sex with two of the `Jocks' of the ship, I looked in on them half an
hour later.  I need not have worried: I found Johan vigorously pounding
Michael's arse while Dirk was doing the same thing to his throat, to
Michael's evident enjoyment.  Sex was obviously the key to freeing Michael
from his shyness and inhibitions.

As I busied myself with administrative work in the wheelhouse, which
doubled as my office, the two boys who had thus far resisted all of Ian's
efforts to seduce them came to see me.

`Excuse us Captain', the older boy said when I became aware of their
presence and turned around to look at them enquiringly.

`Yes?'

He fidgeted embarrassedly for a while, evidently mustering the courage to
say something.  Impatiently the younger boy cut in:

`We want to go home, Captain!', he blurted out.

`Yes', the older boy added lamely.

`What brought this on, boys?', I asked.

`I dunno, Captain', said the older one, `I don't think the other boys want
to be friends with us and we feel like they don't want us to be on this
boat'.

Somehow I was not surprised: The two of them had withdrawn more and more to
themselves as the week had gone by.  It had become clear that they felt
excluded, and they could not have been oblivious to the fact that every
other boy on the ship was spending a lot of their off duty time behind
closed doors.  They may or may not have been aware of what was going on
behind those doors, but they would have been keenly aware that they were
not part of it.

`Well, you know', I said, `It takes two to make friends ... perhaps they
think you don't want to be mates with them.  I know that Ian has being
trying very hard to be friends with you both.'

`Yes, Captain', said the older one, `But we don't want to be friends with
Ian ... he's not a very nice boy ... he's got a very dirty mind!'

`What do you mean?, I asked.

`He's always saying dirty things ... and he touches his private parts all
the time!', asserted the younger one indignantly.

`Has he ever touched your private parts?', I asked, worried that we might
be heading into troubled waters here.

`No ... but he's always looking at me there when we're showering ... I know
he wants to!', said the older one.

Relieved, I asked them whether they would not be prepared to see out the
trip.

`I'm sure things will get better as time goes by and you make friends with
the others.  You don't have to be friends with Ian, but there are some very
nice boys on this ship', I said.

`I don't know ...' said the older one, `They all seem pretty rough ... and
if it doesn't work out it's a long time before we get back!'

`No!' said the younger one emphatically, `I want to go home!'

I realised that there was nothing for it but to arrange for their parents
to pick them up, which I spent the rest of the morning doing.  Fortunately,
both boys lived in the suburbs of Durban.

The parents were disappointed but seemed to be not very surprised.

`Peter struggles so to make at friends at school', said the older boy's
mother, `We had so hoped that he would come out of his shell on this trip'

The younger boy's father said very little when he picked his son up, though
he seemed to be fuming inwardly.  As they walked away we heard him saying
to his son:

`This is the third time you've done this to us, Christopher!  You realise I
don't get my money back!'

Christopher stomped off defiantly.

The plus, of course, was that the impossible problem of having to keep the
sexual activities of the whole ship's crew secret from two of its members
had just resolved itself.  There was no financial disadvantage either, as
their fees had been paid in advance and were not refundable.

However, it left us short-handed for the long voyage and very little time
to find replacements.  I tried contacting some of the many applicants who
had been turned down to tell them that places had just become available but
everyone I called had, understandably, made other arrangements by that
time.

That evening after supper I called the boys together on the foredeck and
explained what had happened.

`Good riddance!' said Ian, winking at his sexual converts `Miserable tight
arses!'

The sexual converts all giggled at this, happy in the sense of belonging
that this public rejection of Peter's and Christopher's abstention
automatically gave those who had so gladly embraced the sexual freedom that
Ian had exposed them to.

`Any ideas on who we can invite to come along?', I asked.

`We don't know anybody who's got the money, Uncle Jonathan!', Tiaan said.

`Well, actually, the two places have already been paid for, so we actually
have two bursary places we can offer', I explained.

`But ... they need to be boys who would ... fit in', I said with a wink,
`If you know what I mean!'

`Fit in!', some of the new boys repeated and broke into guffaws to show
they understood the allusion, reinforcing their sense of belonging.

`If you told me last week ... I got a buddy who fits me great ... but he
got picked up by the cops this week, Ian joked.

A few of the boys chuckled, but it gave me an idea.

`How old is he and what was he arrested for?' I asked.

`He's thirteen, same as me, Uncle Jonathan.  The cops say for prostitution,
but everyone knows it's really `cos he won't work for Sergeant Scholtz!',
he replied.

`What's his name?', I asked.

`Derek', he replied.

`Tell me', I asked, `When you kept getting arrested for the same thing, did
you always appear before the same magistrate?'

`Sure!', he replied at once, `He and Sergeant Scholtz are tight!  Like
this!', he said, thrusting out a hand with the middle and forefinger
crossed, `Everybody knows!'

`I see ... what is his name?', I asked.

`Mr Carter', he replied.

`Okay boys, let me see what I can think of.  Now ... Johan and Dirk
... take your crew members down to crew's quarters ... we have some
unfinished crew business from last night!  Students to your own quarters!'.

`Aw please Captain, can't we go with the crew?' pleaded Ian, `We wanna be
part of the crew too like Stefan and Jul!'

`I know you want to be part of the crew, Ian, and maybe you will be some
time, but right now you are not, and until you are you can't be part of
it', I said.

Ian looked deeply disappointed.  So I held him back as the other students
went down to the saloon.

`Look, Ian, I promise I will speak to your dad before the week is out about
your becoming a permanent member of the crew, but please understand that
before your dad agrees, you cannot take part in their activities.  Do you
understand?'

`Okay, Uncle Jonathan, I understand.  I just so want to belong!', he
replied.

`Just be patient', I smiled at him as I ran my fingers through his red-gold
hair.

`Okay, Uncle Jonathan', he said.

`In the meantime, see if you can get Michael to go to bed with you
... maybe he's had a change of heart!', I said to him with a wink.

Ian's faced brightened immediately.

`Yes!', he said, `I'm gonna do that!', and he trotted off to find Michael.

A little later I went forward to the crew's quarters and found Tiaan
already strung up to the mast, waiting for my arrival so that his
re-initiation could begin.

In the next two hours I managed to re-initiate four boys.  By then, such is
the power of peer pressure among boys, all the rest of the crew had
volunteered to be re-initiated.  As I had done seven in two nights, I
announced that we would do the remaining three boys, Ben, Rijn and Erik,
the following evening.

I suggested that the six-year-old Erik should be exempt from the much more
rigorous initiation until he was older, which the boys were happy to agree
to, but Erik would not hear of it, so I felt we needed to honour his
courage by allowing him to undergo the ordeal.

As I passed through the saloon on the way to my cabin for what I felt was a
well-earned rest, I found Michael bent over the narrow saloon table,
grunting and squeaking with pleasure as Ian expertly banged away at his
arse.  Simon was on his knees on the far side shoving his erected cock
enthusiastically in and out of Michael's eager mouth.  Ian gave me a wink
as I passed but the other two were far too absorbed even to notice me going
by.

          * * * * * *

The next morning, which was Sunday, I got going early and contacted Henk,
the pimp that several of boys had previously worked for, and called in some
favours that he owed me.

By the evening of the same day Henk arrived at Skobbejak with an order,
signed by Mr Carter the magistrate, releasing into my care Ian's mate,
Derek, and another thirteen-year-old named Rikus.  They had both been
sentenced to juvenile detention until their sixteenth birthday – Derek
for prostitution and Rikus for shoplifting.  They were being released to me
indefinitely on parole.  If things did not work out I could return them to
Correctional Services.  I was to go to the police station the next morning
to fetch them.  Each was to receive a police whipping before being
released: twelve strokes of the cane.  Since I was now effectively their
legal guardian for the next six months, I was required to be present during
the whipping.

In return I was to take Magistrate Carter and a few of his friends on their
own private fuck cruise out into Durban Bay on Monday night.  Needless to
say, they were to be wined and dined at my expense and my boys were to be
freely available to them.  Magistrate Carter specifically asked that the
young parolees, Derek and Rikus, be made exclusively available to him.

The next morning early I reported at the police station and identified
myself to the sergeant on duty.  A constable escorted me down a long
passage and then down steep concrete stairs to the basement room where the
judicial whippings were carried out on juvenile boys.  It was a small
grey-painted room with ceiling and floor of bare, unpainted concrete.  In
the centre of the room was what looked like a very old wooden form bench,
very solidly constructed, about 2 metres long and 30 centimetres wide.  The
wood was worn and shiny from many years of daily use.  There was a single
neon tube in the middle of the ceiling that lit the room with a harsh white
light.  Just below the concrete ceiling on one side were a couple of narrow
barred and glassless windows at the level of the pavement outside.  Ian had
spoken of hearing the screams of the boys being whipped every day at the
police station and I realised that it was through those windows that the
sound would escape to the street.

Under this window were two solid-looking wooden chairs standing back to
back.  In one corner of the room there was what looked like an umbrella
stand containing a selection of long yellow rattan canes of various length
and thickness.  In another corner was a table with an old-fashioned wash
basin on it, a jug of water, a large tin of salt and a well-worn
government-issue towel.

The constable caught my glance:

`Sometimes they bleed', he chuckled, `And then we gotta clean them up'.

`Okay", I said.

`This your first time?', he asked.

`First official time', I answered, remembering the time I had arranged for
Josh to take an unofficial police beating for stealing cigarettes in
exchange for shoplifting charges being withdrawn.

Just then heavy footsteps and the rattling sound of metal dragged over
concrete could be heard moving down the passage.  Shortly afterward a
police sergeant entered, followed by two clearly frightened young boys and
another police constable.  The boys were barefoot and each wore ankle
chains, which accounted for the metallic rattling heard in the passage.

I looked the boys over as the police sergeant rattled off his whipping
rules to them:

`You gonna take off your clothes and put them on that table, okay?  You
wait until I tell you to get on the bench, okay? There's no straps, so you
hook your toes on the bottom of the bench and hold tight with your hands on
the top ... or on the sides if you too short, okay?  You gonna lift your
head and keep your eyes on that mark on the wall, okay?  You can scream all
you want but if you let go with your hands or your toes or you try to jump
off or rub your arse or if you piss or shit yourself or if I have to get
the constables to hold you down you gonna get extras, okay?'

The boys, who were both Afrikaans, nodded and said `Ja Meneer! (Yes Sir!)'
at each `okay?' but, from their fear-glazed eyes I guessed they weren't
taking in anything at all and were bound to pick up a few `extras' along
the way.  I glanced at the bulges in the trouser fronts of the policemen
and I guessed that they were probably relying on that.

Both the boys were very cute and very well put together.  I had expected
nothing else of Derek as a boy who regularly earned money from selling his
body in the competitive sex trade on the Durban Beach Front.  That the
shoplifter was also cute and sexy was a bonus.  Both were blonde, tanned
and blue-eyed.  The bigger one wore his hair in a short-bristled mohawk
with the sides of his head shaved smooth. The other had his hair in an
untidy thatch that looked like it had not been washed in days.  Both wore
the uniform of extremely short shorts and skimpy tank tops that Durban
beach boys wore in those days to show off their well-muscled upper bodies.
The boy with the mohawk wore a small plain gold-coloured earring in the
right earlobe, which in those days was meant to signal that he was gay.

`Okay, Derek, you go first!' said the sergeant, nodding to the boy with the
Mohawk.

A constable unlocked Derek's ankle chain and hung it on one of several
heavy iron hooks in the wall that held sets of manacles, leg-irons and the
like.  He made the other boy, who I gathered must be Rikus, stand in one
corner of the room with his back to the wall.

`You can stand here and watch what is going to happen to you', chuckled the
constable.

Derek moved uncertainly toward the bench while the sergeant fetched a long
thick rattan cane from the table.  He turned as Derek was about to lie down
the bench.  Quickly he stepped forward, swinging the cane through the air
as he did so.  It connected with Derek's shoulder blades with a loud
`Smack!'.  Derek yelped and jumped up, his face contorted with pain.

`You don't listen!' the sergeant snarled, `I told you take your clothes
off!'

Shakily, Derek stripped his clothes off with trembling hands, revealing two
other essential items in the arsenal of a rent-boy: A nice long cock and a
firm round set of buttocks.  A livid red welt mushroomed over his nicely
muscled shoulders.

I could feel my own cock growing steadily under my shorts, a fact that did
not escape the sergeant's notice.  He winked at me conspiratorially.

 `You lucky to get these boys instead of Henk', he smirked to me, `You
obviously got some pull in this town!'

I just smiled thinly at him.

At this moment Derek went to lie across the bench a second time and earned
another searing stripe across his shoulder blades.  He yelped again and
jumped to his feet.

`Did I tell you to lie on the bench yet?', the sergeant demanded to know.

`No Sir!' said Derek.

`That's right!' said the sergeant, winking at me, `First we gotta take our
dues!'

One of the constables led Derek over to the chairs against the wall and
made him kneel on the seat of one with his upper body hanging over the
backs of the two chairs and his hands gripping the seat of the other chair.
He pushed against Derek's back until his forehead rested on the seat of the
other chair and his arse was up in the air.  By now the sergeant had his
trousers down to his knees and, with a constable pushing down on the back
of Derek's strong neck to hold him down, the sergeant roughly rammed his
swollen cock into Derek's arse.  Not surprisingly, he slid in smoothly and
easily and was quickly riding Derek savagely to climax.  The constables
followed in quick succession, after which I was offered a chance.  I had
initially resolved not to take up the opportunity when it was offered, as I
realised it would be, but it was quickly clear that Derek enjoyed the
fucking immensely, indeed, actively participated in his fucking to the
extent that it was obvious that there was no need for a constable to hold
him down.  So, when the time came and Derek turned and looked over his
shoulder at me with pleading eyes, I was more than happy to plunge my big
cock into his arse as well.

My cock was much longer and thicker than those of the three policemen, who
whistled in open admiration when I yanked my shorts down.  Derek's eyes
widened slightly in alarm and Rikus involuntarily swore in Afrikaans:

`Fok my! (Fuck me!)'.

Derek moaned as he took the full length of my cock inside him.  It went in
relatively easily although it was certainly a tight fit.  Being a
professional, however, Derek quickly adjusted to my length and girth and
soon I was banging away at his arse with the greatest of ease.  That Derek
enjoyed the fuck too was attested by the fact that he sprayed the back of
the chair with copious amounts of cum shortly before I climaxed myself.

With both his cock and his arsehole still dribbling cum Derek was ordered
to lie on the bench to receive his whipping.

Trembling, Derek did as he was told, hooking the bottom end of the bench
with his leathery brown toes and, with outstretched arms, just managing to
hook his fingers over the top end.  The smooth wood felt almost pleasant
against his perspiring skin.  His still half-erected cock lay uncomfortably
against the hardness of the bench and he lifted his buttocks a couple of
times in a vain effort to get more comfortable.

`Lie still!' the sergeant ordered as he snapped the cane against Derek's
buttocks.  Derek yelped and his body jerked, but he lay still.

The sergeant swished the rattan through the air a few times.  Derek's
stomach lurched at the fluting sound it made.  I could see the tension
building in the tightly knotted muscles of Derek's back and buttocks.

Derek turned to see what the sergeant was doing, and earned another stripe
across his shoulder blades for his trouble.  Derek yelled in surprize and
pain and he involuntarily lost his grip on the top end of the bench.  For
that the sergeant gave him another stripe across his back.

'Keep your eyes fixed on the mark, boy, don't look at me!', the sergeant
ordered.

Derek fixed his gaze on the mark painted on the wall as every muscle in his
body tensed in anticipation of the coming stroke.  The sergeant raised the
cane high above his shoulder and then brought it whistling through the air
to smack against Derek's buttocks with a loud crack. Derek's whole body
jerked involuntarily and he screamed as the excruciating pain raced along
every nerve in his body.  Despite this the boy had the presence of mind to
keep his grip on the bench.

Twelve times the cane rose slowly and then darted through the air to bite
into Derek's quivering buttocks, wrenching an agonized scream from the boy
with every stroke.

When it was over, Derek lay on the bench dazed and sobbing.  His hard round
buttocks, tanned a golden brown like the rest of his body, were a
latticework of fiery welts, oozing tiny droplets of bright blood .

'You can get up now', the sergeant ordered.

Derek struggled painfully to his feet, his face red and streaked with
tears.  The sergeant inspected his buttocks and then pulled Derekover to
the table by the arm.  He emptied the jug of water into the basin and then
shook a generous quantity of salt into it, dissolving it by stirring it
vigorously with his hand.  Then he soaked the towel in the strong saline
mixture and bent down to wash Derek's arse with it.

Derek clutched his arse and howled as the salt burned into the fiery welts
criss-crossing his beautiful round buttocks.

`There you go!', said the sergeant, patting him on his fiery arse, `That'll
keep the germs out!'

Then Rikus was released from his shackles.

Since Derek had had his whipping he was no longer considered a flight risk
and he was allowed to go and stand in the corner unshackled, where he
snivelled quietly until one of the constables gave him a backhander against
the side of his head and told him to shut up.

`Get your clothes off!' the sergeant ordered Rikus.

Rikus dropped to his knees and clasped his hands in front of his face in
the universal attitude of the beggar:

`Please, Sir!', he pleaded, `Please don't fuck me!  I'm not a rent boy Sir!
I never been fucked before, Sir!  Please! Please!'

The boy's pleading seemed to excite the sergeant even more.

`I don't give a fuck that you never been fucked before, boy, you gonna get
fucked now!', he snarled.

`Any case, I'm doing you a favour, getting you ready to work for this
uncle!', he added, obviously under the impression that I would be pimping
the boys.

I had mixed feelings about that but I decided not to rock the boat.  I
didn't know what story Henk had spun to get these boys released to crew on
Skobbejak and so I thought it best to keep my mouth shut.  At least it
would save me and the boys the trouble of introducing the boy to man sex
ourselves and it would certainly speed up Rikus's integration into the
crew!

`If you don't want to play ball', the sergeant continued, `Just say so and
I'll send you to juvenile prison ... pretty ass like yours gonna be fucked
by the older kids and the warders all night ... every night ... Is that
what you want?'

`No sergeant!', Rikus said, getting to his feet and quickly taking off his
clothes.

`That's better!' said the sergeant when Rikus was naked, `Now get up on the
chair like you saw your buddy do'.

Rikus did so.  As a precaution, the sergeant ordered one of the constables
to shackle his wrists and ankles to the chairs.

`He ain't gonna enjoy it like the slut boy did, so you better tie him
down!', he guffawed.

As the sergeant thrust his rock-hard cock into Rikus's arse, the boy's
ear-splitting screams confirmed that he had indeed been a virgin.

`Oooh shit!!  Oooh fuck!!  Geez that hurts!!', he gasped between screams,
struggling helplessly against the shackles that bound him.

The screaming continued unabated for what seemed like ages before it
subsided, first to a heartrending sobbing and then to a continuous low
moaning.  Finally the sergeant went into spasm as he reached climax and
there was a fresh scream from Rikus as he pulled his swollen cockhead out
of Rikus's tortured anus and sprayed his cum all over Rikus's arse and
back.

The constable who stepped up to take the sergeant's place screwed up his
face in distaste at the sight of the sergeant's cum, so he motioned Derek
forward and made him lick it all up, a task that Derek seemed to relish.

By the time the second constable inserted his cock into Rikus's arse, the
boy's anus seemed to have relaxed sufficiently that Rikus was beginning to
respond with some enjoyment.  By the time the constable reached climax
Rikus's moans of pain had turned to satisfied grunts of pleasure.  And when
I stepped up to take my turn, although his eyes widened with anxiety on
entry and he moaned with pain for a few thrusts, he quickly adjusted to my
size and even began to fuck himself on my shaft, as if trying to hurry the
pace.  As it always seemed to do, my big cock seemed to find his sweet spot
pretty quickly and eventually drove the boy to a long and shuddering climax
in which he squirted a considerable quantity of slippery cum against the
back of the chair he was leaning over.  The involuntary spasming of his
anus on my cock as he climaxed pushed me over the top too and I lay over
his muscled brown back and shot my load deep inside him.

`See, that wasn't so bad. Was it?', the sergeant said to Rikus as he was
being unshackled, `I knew you was a natural!'

`Yes, Sergeant', said Rikus as he stood up, and then to me:

`Thank you, Sir', he said with a rueful smile, `That was sore but it was
nice!'

`Never met a boy yet didn't love man cock up his arse once he had it!' the
sergeant smirked.

`Yes Sergeant', Rikus replied.

`Got the equipment too', said the sergeant, winking at me as he gripped
Rikus's impressive half erect cock with one hand.

`Our Afrikaner boys are like bulls' the sergeant proclaimed proudly, `Not
like some of those English moffies that we get here, with their little baby
willies!'

Rikus pulled back and grinned sheepishly, his blue eyes registering pride.

`Now lick all your mess off that chair!' the sergeant ordered.

Rikus looked with distaste at the thickening globs of his cum where they
were slowly dribbling down the back of the chair.

The sergeant noticed his hesitation and moved towards Rikus with his cane.

Rikus quickly bent down and started lapping up his cum from the chair.  The
sergeant snapped the cane hard across Rikus's brawny brown back.

`Ouch!', he yelled, cum spraying out of his mouth, `I'm doing it Sergeant!'

 `Next time don't hesitate!', the sergeant snarled, `You told to do
something you don't think about it ... You just do it!'

`Yes Sergeant!', Rikus grimaced.

`Now lick up that shit you sprayed on my boots!', the sergeant ordered.

`Yes Sergeant!', Rikus replied as he dropped to the floor and began licking
the sprayed cum off the sergeant's boots.

Half an hour and fifteen searing strokes of the cane later Rikus was helped
to his feet sobbing with agony (Rikus picked up a several extra lashes
until he learned to concentrate).  At a couple of points where two lashes
intersected the skin had actually broken and there were trickles of blood
running down his buttocks and onto his thighs.  The blood was washed off
with the saline solution while Rikus was still lying on the bench and this
elicited a fresh round of howling agony.

Finally, the two freshly whipped boys were allowed to gingerly inch their
shorts up over their cane-welted bottoms and pulled their tank tops over
their heads.  Thirteen-year-old boys in rude health recover quickly and
they were both quite cheerful, almost exuberant, when we fetched their
meagre possessions from the sergeant's office.  Rikus threw his arms around
me.

`Thank you Sir, for rescuing us!', Rikus said, his voice thick with
emotion.

Derek hung back with a cynical smirk and folded arms.  His tough thirteen
years in the backstreets of Durban had taught him that there were no free
rides and he was obviously reserving judgement until he could work out what
was in it for me.

`Just remember', said the sergeant, `These boys is actually juvenile
prisoners on probation ... They don't behave, you got the right to whip
them up to fifty lashes ... you got the right to lock them up and to
restrain them with manacles or shackles ... and you got the right to return
them to Correctional Services with a bad conduct report.  If they sent back
with a bad conduct report they get sent to the Boys' Farm to work their
arses off until they sixteen ... and I promise they will shit off there big
time!'

The boys shuddered at the mention of the Boys' Farm.  They had both heard
terrifying stories of what went on there – of boys doing forced labour
in the fields or in the quarry all day in the burning sun; of daily
beatings and rapes; of punishment floggings that put boys in the infirmary
for days at a time; of boys disappearing and never being seen again (the
most persistent story was that they were being trafficked into Africa and
the Middle East as sex slaves).  The rumours were no doubt highly
exaggerated, but they persisted.

As our taxi growled through the streets of Durban, I explained to the boys
that they would be joining Skobbejak's crew for a six month voyage to
Madagascar.  Rikus's face lit up with delight at this news but Derek looked
at me suspiciously.

`You gonna sell us there as sex slaves, aren't you?' he demanded to know.

`What?  Of course not!', I said, `Skobbejak is a school ship and I need two
strong young boys to fill in as crew for the voyage.  You two happen to be
lucky enough to be available at short notice!'

Derek folded his arms and scowled, not buying it yet.

We stopped at a place in a dingy backstreet where Henk had arranged for me
to pick up passports for the boys from someone who worked for the
Department of Home Affairs.  They were genuine passports, not forgeries.
It was just that palms had been greased to cut short the usual lengthy
procedure that would have been required if we had had to track down the
boys' parents, apply for birth certificates, etc.

From there we made one other stop to pick up some clothing and other items
for the boys before heading to the yacht basin.

`Okay, now listen up!', I announced, `You probably know some of my boys in
the crew ... most of them have also been beach front rent boys ... Derek,
one of them is your mate Ian.  You probably won't know any of the paying
students ... they are all from wealthy families that you probably wouldn't
mix with'

`You'd be surprised!', Derek said sardonically.

I laughed.

`Actually, now that I think about it, I probably wouldn't be!' I replied.

`Anyway', I added, `I want you to understand that you have a chance now to
pull yourselves together.  It's up to you whether you go back to juvenile
detention or the Boys' Farm when the six month voyage is over.  I promise
you that, if you pull your weight and show me that you are prepared to work
to better yourselves, I will help you do that.  Whether that means you stay
with us or go on to something else, we, and by that I mean you and me, will
decide when the time comes.  Okay?'

`Okay', said Rikus, `Thank you Sir!'

`I don't care if they send me to the Boys' Farm!' said Derek.

`Well, that's your choice', I said to Derek, `Just don't stuff it up for
Rikus!'

Derek looked away out of the car window and said nothing.

I wondered if I had made a mistake with Derek.  I sensed that he could be
stubborn and strong-willed.  He had, after all, been operating as an
independent rent-boy on Sergeant Scholtz's turf for a long time, despite
all the considerable pressure the corrupt policeman had brought to bear on
him.  I admired him for this alone and I hoped that I would be able to
harness those qualities to the good.

`Did you say Ian is with you?', Derek asked suddenly.

`Yes', I replied.

`Did he also get in trouble?', he asked.

`No ... his dad is paying for him to come on the trip', I replied.

`Ja ... I know his dad's got bucks.  His dad's cool ... we do a threesome
sometimes ... Ian and his dad and me', said Derek.

`Well actually', I said, `It was Ian who told me about you, so if you get
sold as a sex slave in Madagascar, you know who you can blame!'

Derek looked at me a moment, sizing me up, and then his handsome face lit
up in a wide grin.

`You sell me, I'll give `em such a hard time they gonna bring me back real
fast, I can promise you!'

I laughed.

`I'm sure you will Derek ... I'm sure you will'.

I felt a little easier about Derek after that exchange, but time would tell
...

Back on Skobbejak I handed Derek and Rikus over to Johan and Dirk with
instructions to get them settled in and start showing them the ropes.

`We have only a week of training left, so they have a lot to catch up
before we set sail', I reminded them.

`Yes, Uncle Jonathan!', the two of them chorused.

`And for goodness sake give Rikus a haircut ... it'll be much easier to
keep clean at sea than that big mop he's got on his head right now!', I
added.

       * * * * * *

The next day we got back from our training evolutions in the mid-afternoon
so that we would have time to prepare to receive Magistrate Carter and his
guests.  As I could not risk the complications that might arise if the
students got involved, I hired a mini-bus and sent them, under Dirk's
supervision, to spend the night under canvas with a friend of mine who ran
a holiday camp in the Ballito area.

Dressed in their sarongs, the boys welcomed Magistrate Carter and his five
guests aboard just as the sun was going down.  A boy was detailed to attend
exclusively to each guest and Magistrate Carter, of course, had both Derek
and Rikus looking after him.  Each guest was led below into the guest cabin
allocated to him where his host boy encouraged him to change into a sarong
and return on deck for snacks and drinks.

I had given up my own cabin for Magistrate Carter to share with Derek and
Rikus.  As we would be sailing up and down the bay off Durban among the
anchored ships awaiting a berth in the harbour and among the commercial and
private fishing vessels that would also be plying those waters, I did not
expect to get any sleep but, if I needed to, I would sleep in the crew's
quarters in one of the bunks vacated by the boys spending the night with
the guests in the cabins.

As insurance, having regard to the power and influence that the Magistrate
and his guests had at their disposal in Durban society, I had arranged for
a former work colleague to lend me a bunch of security spycams which I
installed in strategic locations in guest cabins and in my own cabin.  They
were quite bulky things in those days, so it took a little ingenuity to
conceal them in one of the many nooks and cubbyholes in the cabins, but I
was satisfied that they would not be detected, especially since being
filmed in the act of rogering two underage boys was probably the last thing
that would be on any of their minds!.  I did not think it would ever be
necessary to use the film but, of course, one never knows!

Sometime after midnight I was standing in the wheelhouse with Johan, who
was on the helm, as we chugged slowly under power a couple of miles off the
beach front, watching the lights of the city glide by.  Most of the
activities had died down and the guests were one by one succumbing to the
soporific effects of wine, healthy exercise and the sea air.

Johan and I were both naked, having taken off our sarongs and knotted them
over spokes of the wheel earlier when we had taken turns at fucking each
other while standing at the wheel.  Just then my adopted son, Joshua,
arrived with one of Magistrate Carter's guests in tow.  I had recognised
the name earlier as that of an extremely wealthy local investor and had
coupled my adopted son, Joshua, with him for the night.

`Hey, Dad!', Joshua announced, `My guest wanted to meet you!'

I reached for my sarong but then saw that both the guest and Joshua were
naked, so I left it

`Hello', he said, holding out a hand, `My name is Andre.  I just wanted to
say I've really enjoyed this event immensely.  Your son Joshua has been a
terrific host and has been looking after me very well indeed.'

`Glad to hear it', I said, `By the way, my name is Jonathan'.

`You have a great bunch of boys here Jonathan and you are providing them
with a wonderful opportunity.  Miles Carter told me about the two boys you
have rescued from juvenile detention and I believe that most of the crew,
including Joshua, are boys that you have rescued in one way or another', he
said

`Well, thank you', I said, `I like to believe that, whatever his
background, almost every boy will benefit from what we provide them here on
Skobbejak.'

`I have no doubt of it', Andre replied, `And, moreover, it provides people
such as you and me with an unrivalled opportunity to indulge our passions
in circumstances of the utmost discretion'.

`Well ...', I answered, hesitantly, `It does indeed ... but ... we don't
organise these things on a regular basis.  We have only ever done two in
fact ... and both were effectively payments for favours'

`Yes I know', said Andre, `Favours which resulted in more boys being
rescued!'

I shot Joshua a glance with eyebrows raised, wondering what else he told
this stranger.  Joshua blushed:

`Just listen, Dad, Andre has a great idea to tell you!'

I looked at Andre.

`Well, let's cut to the chase, shall we?' he said, `I do indeed have an
idea that I want to propose to you that I believe we can both benefit
from'.

Andre outlined his proposal: He and a number of his friends with similar
interests would set up a trust fund that would provide bursaries for boys
like Derek and Rikus to complete their schooling on Skobbejak.  There would
be unwritten criteria for selection ... basically the understanding would
be that they must be boys who would `fit in' with the Skobbejak family.

In return, the trustees would have certain privileges of access to all the
boys of the crew (ie, not just the sponsored boys) the details of which
would be worked out.  It would include participation in regularly scheduled
`fuck cruises' when Skobbejak was in port.  It would also include loaning
the boys out to participate in private parties and the like at the
trustees' mansions and elsewhere.

`Well, Andre', I said, `It is, of course, very generous of you and your
friends to offer sponsorships to boys of limited means.  However, we are
about to depart on an extended educational voyage and we have no more
berths available until we return in six months' time.  In the meantime I
will consider your proposal and discuss it with the boys, who will have a
say since they would be expected to "perform" in terms of the contract.  I
will communicate our response when we get to Maputo or perhaps when we
reach Madagascar'.

`No problem at all', said Andre, `I did not expect an immediate answer but
I would be grateful if you could let me as soon as possible as it will take
some time to set things up from our side in any event'.

Then, as an afterthought, he added:

`You know what?  I have a large beach villa on Inhaca Island.  Perhaps you
and the boys can join me and my friends there when you call in at Maputo.
We can discuss the matter then and have a lot of fun at the same time?'

`Sounds like a great idea.  Let's make the arrangements during this coming
week!', I replied.

       * * * * * *

After a busy week of training and last minute arrangements we were finally
heading out of Durban harbour, bound for Madagascar via Richards Bay and
Maputo.

By this time Derek and Rikus had settled very well into the rhythm of
shipboard life.  There had been some butting of heads in the first few days
as they fought for places in the pecking order, as boys are naturally bound
to do, but I left the boys to sort themselves out and, as always, they did
so without too many bruises and things settled down on an even keel.

We had made some changes in the ship's organisation that Dirk, Johan and I
thought necessary and that the crew voted on: Johan, accepted as the
natural leader of the crew and by now easily Dirk's equal in seamanship and
ship-handling, was elected Chief Mate.  He also happened to be the biggest
and strongest boy on board, which meant that he was able to dominate any of
the boys physically if necessary ... always an important consideration when
choosing leaders of young boys, since they are basically very physical
creatures at that age.  Dirk was elected Second Mate and Tiaan, Third Mate.
Each of them would lead a watch as we also made the change to a three watch
system.  Johan and Dirk moved into the cabin vacated by the two students
who went home.  Ian had begged his father to allow him to become a paying
crew member so that he could move into the crew's quarters.  Tiaan moved
into Ian's cabin, so that all my young ship's officers were now in cabins,
and Josh moved in with Tiaan, although they were no longer `boyfriends'.
(After two weeks they had become bored with it ... boys are naturally
promiscuous creatures, after all).

Each watch also elected one boy from among themselves to be a petty officer
(effectively second in charge of the watch).  They were Josh, Jul and.  I
approved this choice after a lot of thought as, although he was still very
new and inexperienced, Stefan was popular among the boys and a good leader.
Although a year younger than Johan, Stefan was as big and almost as strong,
which meant that he was more than capable of enforcing his orders if the
need ever arose.

On the night before our departure, Ian, Derek and Rikus had asked to be
allowed to undergo the crew's initiation ritual and both I and the boys had
been happy to oblige.  Rikus, of course, being a novice to anal
penetration, had great difficulty keeping the giant dildo in his arse
through the entire whipping, so he managed to collect nearly double the
prescribed number of lashes – a new Skobbejak record of which he was
very proud.  A week later he was disappointed that the welts that he had
been flaunting like a badge of courage (which of course they were) had
faded.

`You shoulda whipped me harder, Uncle Jonathan', he moaned, `Then I coulda
had the scars on my back forever!'.

`You boys really are strange creatures!', I laughed, ruffling the blonde
bristles of his newly crew-cut hair.

I found it an interesting contrast that, although the initiation whipping,
performed with a braided leather whip across their bare backs, was probably
a lot more painful than the police caning Derek and Rikus had received just
a week before, both boys bore their whipping in stoic silence, apart from
perhaps a strangled grunt of pain each time the whiplash sliced across
their backs.  I asked them about that afterward, when they came to my cabin
to have cool soothing `fridge cream' (the boys' name for sunburn ointment)
applied to their welts ... and then stayed for sex.  Derek answered for
both of them and I thought his answer very meaningful.

`We didn't want to let down our mates ... or let them think we were
sissies.  At the police station we had only ourselves to let down ...'

We had delayed our departure by a few days waiting for the right weather
window to take us to Richards Bay and we were now finally on our way.
There was an air of high excitement as Skobbejak exited Durban harbour
mouth.  We ran on under power for a while to get us clear of the shipping
and then, about three miles out, all boys turned to hoisting and trimming
the sails.  I always enjoyed watching the muscles in their backs, arms and
legs flexing and bunching rhythmically as they hauled on the heavy ropes
like a well-oiled machine, leaning back and stamping the deck with their
hard bare feet like a tug of war team.  As we turned to head east the ship
heeled joyfully and we felt the surge as the sails filled and Skobbejak
leaped forward.  Minutes later Johan cut the engine and there was a
spontaneous cheer from all the boys on deck as they realized that our East
African adventure had finally begun.