Date: Mon, 10 Jan 2005 14:29:07 -0800 (PST)
From: Steve Storyman <stevestoryman@yahoo.com>
Subject: Boys' Joys and Sorrows at Sex Ed School - Chapter 2

________________________________________________________________

BOYS' JOYS AND SORROWS AT SEX ED. SCHOOL - Chapter 2
by Steve Storyman
stevestoryman@yahoo.com  (text only)
Copyright 2005 Steve Storyman
January 10, 2005

DISCLAIMER:  This story is for adults only.  If it is not legal
for you to read erotic stories, or you are not of legal age to
read this type of story either where you reside or are accessing
this page, or are offended by male to male sex, spanking, or
other application of pain or pleasure to the body, homosexual or
otherwise, then click off this page, and do not read this story.
Contains gay sex scenes.  Other standard disclaimers apply.
_________________________________________________________________

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_______________________________________________________________

Phil Wertz, 21, supervisor
Brent Hallman, 17, student being trained
Phillip Ankleton, 14, student helper, blond hair
Michael Lanikker, 13, student helper, darker hair

Jeremy Miles, Headmaster, Miles Academy
_______________________________________________________________

CLARIFICATION OF CHAPTER 1:  Brent is not 16 years old.  He had
recently become 17 at the beginning of the story.
_______________________________________________________________

SEE UPDATED IMPROVED LIST OF MY 4 STORIES AT END OF CHAPTER
(Now with Age-Ranges and better descriptions of each story.)
_______________________________________________________________

THANK YOU TO ALL WHO MAILED ME, DOUBLE FOR THOSE WHO MAIL OFTEN
_______________________________________________________________


                       For Peter


CHAPTER 2 - DEEP SHOUTS, HARD COCKS, SQUEAKY SCREAMS
            (While Training a Straight Boy)

I turned off the feather motors.  In relief, Brent's head fell
back against the padded rest.

"Something WORSE?" I said to Michael, putting on a very angry
face, as if I were about to pounce on him and Phillip with all my
fraudulent fury.

The pair of them physically backed off.

"I ought to cane both of you until you beg for your little
lives,"--a lie of course.  We would never go that far.

But this frightened them.  And silenced them.  The playful,
alluring 13 and 14-year-old all but trembled in their tracks.

The two boys WERE intruding on my authority now, Michael
especially.  But, as students here, they had to be accustomed by
now, to having fear induced in them; and I had a suspicion this
might be a kind of game to them, a matter of who could outwit
whom--until, that is, they had to sink or swim; to accept a
punishment or reject it in disgrace.

I was horny as hell over 17-year-old Brent, who was my ideal of
good-looking, teen-age sensuality.  Getting Brent to abandon his
'straightness' was going to be a difficult task--requiring a
perfect balance of pleasure and not-too-harsh pain.

Watching my two little helper boys also did a good job of keeping
me erect.  I needed to conserve my energy for dealing with Brent,
however, and wanted to get back to him as soon as possible.

But first I needed to teach my helpers a lesson:  That my
authority would not be undermined or unduly influenced.  I wanted
to have some fun, too, with Phillip and Michael, while I took
time to think about Brent and the cock pleasuring and teasing
that lay ahead--that would makes its demands on me as well as the
boy bound to the unusual equipment.

But I could not resist the temptation to touch Brent, first.

I grasped his swollen penis--slick with pre-cum.  A quick stroke
of my hand over the hot tube of flesh, and he nearly screamed.

"Aaaarrghff!"

A hand went to his scrotum, the other stroked his hard cock
again.  I moved the dildo up with the pedal, forcing it go deeper
into him--and turned its vibrator on for a moment.

"OH GOD!  AHHHHHH!"  The pleasure must have been fantastic.
Brent raised himself on his toes.

I was exciting the beautiful, 17-year-old straight boy.  Several
supervisors had advised me he had been straight throughout all
their observations, and I didn't question their judgement.

"I think we need to take a break," I said, to the disappointment
of my two eager helpers, but to Brent Hallman's great relief--and
the relief of my cock, which was having difficulty restraining
itself in the presence of Brent's adolescent beauty.

"Where are we going, sir?" Michael asked impetuously.

"To my room," I said as sternly as possible, hard as it was to
leave Brent for the moment.

"Are we in trouble, sir?" Phillip asked, with a charming gulp.

"Possibly," I said in subtle, threatening tones.

There was a detectable change in the sounds the two boys made
then--nothing I could define, but the difference was palpable to
me as we left the private area of Brent's training.

I felt odd, leaving Brent behind, but there was no other choice.
We would return to him in short order.

I led the two boys first to a work room--a large, fully-equipped
facility for various training activities, complete with a full
array of spanking tools, paddles, canes, toys, etc.; beds,
tables, and a bathroom--even a kitchen.

The entire room was private, similar to Brent's training area,--
as opposed to the huge, open training and punishment work room,
where multiple sessions of these activities were carried out at
the same time.  The big room could hold as many as 20 different
supervisors and their respective boys, I'd been told.

Looking at Phillip, I pointed to the 'spanker'--a simple machine
consisting of a shaft with straps attached.  When rotated, the
moving straps gave the buttocks a continuous flow of blows--
variable from mild to very stinging.

The height of the shaft and speed of rotation were adjustable--
both adjustments effectively varied the strength of the blows--
and the machine could be slid forward or back over a padded
bench, on which the subject lay, face down.

With the subject in place on the bench, the operator would then
adjust the height and horizontal position of the strap-laden
shaft, select the desired speed, and turn the thing on.

"Oh!  No, please sir," the blond 14-year-old implored, frozen in
place, face blanched white with fear.  The boy had no way of
knowing I intended this to be relatively mild.  But I'd been told
by other supervisors that pain was pain to the boys, and they
often tended to yell louder than necessary.  I pondered their
exact meaning of 'necessary.'

"NO?" I said softly, "You're refusing the punishment?"

Refusing punishment was a choice the boy could make legitimately.
I went to him and bent, with my face to the side of his.

"Oh!  Oh no, sir."  Phillip gulped, his little Adam's apple
bobbing nicely.

I stood, pausing--the silence thick in the air, now.  At a
distance, I saw Michael, standing rigid with fear, eyeing his
partner sympathetically.

I waited for more from Phillip.

"Sorry, sir," Phillip whispered, "I forgot.  I accept my
punishment."

Silently, he placed his body prone on the bench.

Pulling his shorts and jock halfway to his knees, I saw the glow
of previous spankings.  Phillip's firm buttocks quivered.  I
needed to use just the right amount of force.

I set the spanker on low.  This probably would surprise Phillip,
but this wasn't a case requiring severe punishment.

RA-TAT, RA-TAT, RA-TAT, RA-TAT, RA-TAT, RA-TAT, went the sound of
the mechanized straps.

"No!  Ahh!  Oooo!  Aw!" came Phillip's grunts and shouts.

At the last moment I put the thing on high for a few seconds.

RA-TATAT!-RA-TATAT!-RA-TATAT!-RA-TATAT!-RA-TATAT!

"AHHHHH!  OHHHHH!  OWWWW!  SHIT!"

I turned off the spanker and slid it backward.  I had Phillip
remain on the bench, and gave him two hard strokes of the drilled
paddle as punishment for cursing.

The boy was not pleased with the experience, nor was any real
harm done.  I pulled his shorts up and told him to stand.

"Are you okay, Phillip?"

"Yes, s-sir."

As Michael bravely stepped up to take Phillip's place, he shook
badly, getting himself on the bench.

Of course, the impish younger boy knew my method now, so I
reversed the steps, putting the machine first on high for a few
seconds.

"YoooooooooooowaaAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" was Michael's initial scream,
before I quickly turned the spanker to low.  I allowed Michael's
session to be brief.

I had deliberately pulled up their shorts BEFORE they got off the
bench.  I was teasing myself--and wanted the full unveiling of
their bodies to be a shock to them--saving their total nakedness
for later.  I wanted it to be an erotic surprise for me.

Oh, but what fun it would be when I did get them naked!  A plan
was firm in my mind.

Michael and Phillip knew as well as I did, that it was routine
for supervisors to see their helpers and other boys naked.  So it
was no surprise that I got two strange looks from the pair when I
told them to undress in the bathroom, take their jocks off, put
the shorts back on, and hand me the prohibited jocks as they came
out.

Of course, then, all their boy parts would show nicely from
behind the thin shorts.

The jock-straps dripped with their young fluids.

With the boys more properly attired, we continued on our way to
my room.

This was better.  I enjoyed seeing their little bulges,
especially as they walked with the stubborn, youthful erections--
apparently in discomfort--their red faces betraying their
embarrassment, which heightened each time we encountered another
student or teacher in the hallway.  Not to mention the sudden
irritation and stimulation of the shorts against the hard penis.

Phillip's bulge was more prominent.

My quarters were some distance away, so we had time to talk and
discover a bit about each other.  The pair's liveliness and
intelligence impressed me.

The boys' organs went soft during the long walk.  Eventually, we
got to my room--a suite of rooms, actually.  I had several ideas
of what I would do to the lads.

"Remain standing and face each other in silence."

They obeyed, and their erections slowly sprouted--occasionally
jumping suddenly during the upward journey--an erotic sight on a
boy of any age, I thought.

At one point, they burst into laughter as young teens often do--
erections undeterred by the distraction.

"All right, boys, sit down."

I asked Phillip and Michael how they were getting on with their
schoolwork, and I liked their answer.

Phillip said, with Michael nodding in agreement, "Dark red, no
purple yet."

"Yes, I noticed."

This meant the color of their buttocks--the results of
"accelerated learning sessions"--punishments received from their
teachers.  The presence of the red, and absence of purple
indicated that they were doing average work, and got an average
amount of paddling and caning in the classroom.  I didn't know
what else had caressed their fine mounds of flesh.

I would find out in time.  I knew I would visit many classrooms
soon, to see what went on there.  I wasn't exactly looking for
the academic part.  My 21-year-old libido had a mind of its own.

But in addition to extreme sensual fascination with Brent, my
current interest lay in the bodies of these two helpers--despite
their too-young age for my usual proclivities--and how they were
getting along with their sexual education.  I would find out in
my own way, very soon.

Some boys were surprised upon entering Miles Academy to find out
that there WAS a mandatory academic program, complete with
classrooms and qualified teachers.  The curriculum was reduced to
just the basics of each subject, rather than all the unnecessary
detail the schools used to teach.

This paring down to basics had a very significant result:  The
important material became much easier to learn and remember.

It also meant more time was available for sex education--which,
at Miles Academy, bore no resemblance to the old sex-ed courses.
Here, sexual education was done LIVE--giving new meaning to the
words, 'student body.'

Only grades 8 through 12 were included in our regular scholastic
program.  Typically, student ages for those grades are 13 to 17,
but some boys were 18, or even 19 in the 12th grade.  However,
boys under thirteen were not permitted to attend the academy.
The new law had set the minimum age at 13.

Students who were graduated from the program had the option of
taking individual supervised study.

Those who were not graduated to freedom from the 12th grade were
given an unlimited number of opportunities to repeat and succeed
--in our separate 'repeat' school.

It took longer to complete the coursework in repeat school, where
spanking time often exceeded study time--to be expected, given
the unruly and less studious behavior of the lower-performing
students.  Of course, their performance would be upgraded, one
way or another.

I could hardly wait to see a nice 16 or 17-year-old get a
spanking or paddling in the nude while the rest of the class
looked on.  I was more interested in the 17 to 21 set.

At the moment, however, my mind was on the finer points of
disciplining a certain boy's backside--Brent's--and how to do it
justly, to avoid going over the top with the stunning lad.

Teasing his cock didn't seem to pose much of a challenge.  Either
Phillip, Michael, and I would succeed in arousing Brent to the
maximum possible state without a sexual climax, or we would fail,
and the lad would spew out all the tension that had been so
carefully built up over his 48 hours on the contraption.

But I knew that the paddling and strapping part of the cock-
teasing process related to our overall tactics of discipline.
This is where I need my education.

I knew what we were doing with our disciplinary methods at Miles
Academy was nothing new.  It was a throwback to the schools of
the 18th, 19th, and early 20th centuries, where boys young and
old were punished with a strap, cane--or worse--for various
academic failures, or for misbehavior.

Miles Academy simply copied the punishment scheme of an earlier
era, with some humane differences.  We vehemently stayed away
from "or worse."  Some of the old schools had been barbaric in
their treatment of students, and to us, that was entirely
unacceptable.  Such harsh treatment was forbidden.  That was not
to say that all our punishment and training methods were easy,
although some were.

We wanted to have fun along with the boys, and wanted them to
feel pain at appropriate times, but never anything forced,
horrible, or incapacitating.  The boy had the option of calling
off the punishment (or training activity), or choosing a lesser
one.  The boys endeavored not to do this as much as possible, to
maintain a tough masculine public image among the others.

If a boy was soft or weak, he was weak PRIVATELY, and his
supervisor often nurtured him through tough times.

As I thought of Brent, my ideas clarified.  I realized it was
unnecessary to use anything stronger than a strap or paddle to
get the kid's erection down, although it was within my authority
to use a number of stronger devices within reason, at will.

As for devices, most straps, when used properly, are more severe
than a paddle, for example, just from the physics involved.

Physics was easy for me.  I wasn't so well-versed in the art of
cock-teasing, and its rules escaped me.  I needed to know the
techniques in order to proceed smoothly and gain Brent's respect,
while remaining within his personal likes and limits.

In short, I wanted his hot, 17-year-old body in my bed someday,
and I wasn't about to jeopardize that by stupidly screwing up
with too heavy a hand.

I knew for certain that cock-teasing was, by far, more pleasure
than pain, despite the whacks and slaps necessary to get the
erection down when the subject came close to orgasm--(that way
the cock-teasing, sucking, licking, could begin again).  Blue
balls could be a problem, I supposed, but a time-out for icing-up
the scrotum would take care of that sufficiently to carry on.

I hated to rely on two very young teens for my information.  And
as I relaxed, I reasoned further.  A few related things came back
to me from the Miles Academy rule book I'd studied.

Then something odd struck me.  Maybe it was because of Michael's
eye, briefly catching my attention.  He'd looked at my groin just
long enough that I became aware of him.  That triggered the idea
to look at the crotches of the two helpers, and I saw that
neither Phillip nor Michael showed an erection in their shorts--
those thin, nylon things.  And there was a distinct absence of
pre-cum stains on them.  Strange indeed.

Surely in the presence of Brent's aroused, alluring body, the
boys, registered gays, would have popped at least a boner or two.

I began my interrogation.

"How old are you, Phillip?"  I liked the idea that this boy and I
shared the same first name--although I generally preferred to be
called, 'Phil.'

"I'm fourteen, sir," the blond boy replied with a cute smile.

"And Michael?"

"Sir, I'm thirteen," the more impish of the two said softly,
grinning precipitously.

"Thirteen?  Well, that's very good," I said, disguising my
disappointment that I'd miscalculated their ages.

I thought I'd better get cracking and learn to judge these
students more accurately.

The two lads were charming, taking less furtive glances at the
bulge in my shorts.  I could see the little wheels turning in
their minds--'How big are you?'

But with the boys sporting no wood, I felt something was amiss,
and I had an idea what it was.

"Come closer!"  The two lads were facing me at a distance of
about 8 feet.

"Closer!  Quickly!" I said, wanting them to be about 2 feet away.
"What's wrong with you boys?"

"Sorry, sir," Michael said, looking forlorn, as did Phillip.

"Now, tell me--what are you wearing?  Phillip, you first."

The boy hung his head for a moment, then looked at me.

"Sir, I'm sorry.  I'm wearing jock under my shorts--it's lined
with Delthan.  Michael is, too."

Delthan is a thin, waterproof plastic material, developed in
2098--very soft, and virtually impossible to tear, made by the
firm, "Spank-1, Ltd.," manufacturers of fine punishment straps,
and other devices, in addition to state-of-the-art plastic
sheeting of all kinds.

Essentially, Phillip was telling me he was wearing a miniature
version of a disposable diaper, hidden inside a jock strap.

Hiding one's erection with a jock--or deception of any kind--was
forbidden for students.  A student ratting on a friend was akin
to high treason.

I'm sure the anger and shock on my face was clear to both boys.

"Phillip--You violated the confidence of your friend!  It's not
for you to reveal to me what another student does!  Did you think
your guilt would be lessened if Michael shared it with you?  How
dare you tell me that Michael is doing something wrong!"

"I'm sorry," Phillip said fearfully.

"Phillip, I'm sentencing you to be suspended from the punishment
bar in the assembly hall, and strapped with a tawse.  Exactly
when, I'll decide later."

Phillip's legs were hardly strong enough to support him, now.
His eyes became large as saucers--and Michael's in sympathy.

This was far worse than a simple caning or paddling in the
classroom or cafeteria.  To be punished in the assembly hall was
looked upon with the utmost dread, because a special assembly of
all students would be announced throughout the building, for one
thing.  For another, the punishment would be administered on an
elevated stage--where plays as well as punishments could be
performed--giving all attendees a distinctly good view of the
victim in his most humiliating moment.

While the same moderated application of pain would be employed,
the high anxiety and profound embarrassment of the assembly hall
would have the effect of intensifying the pain, psychologically.

"Yes, sir," Phillip said, acknowledging his sentence and blushing
horrendously, trembling and quite unsteady now.

A tawse is a wide, thick, leather strap, used for hundreds of
years, whose business end is split into two, narrower "tongues,"
which made it a sort of stinging double-smack for the 'punishee'
--officially called the 'subject,' which has been standard
terminology as far back as the 1900's.

Unlike the schools of an ancient epoch, we did not use the tawse
on the hands--an absurd practice.  Anything incapacitating, or
nearly so, was forbidden.

Punishment at a student assembly meant a more formal event--the
students worked up all the more, anxious to be present (and all
would be present)--intensifying the dread of the subject, nerves
frayed, and limbs trembling with fear.  Whereas a cafeteria
punishment was not announced in advance, and only those present
at the time would have the privilege of witnessing.

Perhaps Phillip was thinking of how that announcement would
sound, 'Special assembly at ten o'clock.  Punishment for Phillip
Ankleton.'  Or something like that.  The hall itself was an
imposing room.

I looked sternly at the lad.  I felt a bit sorry for him.  The
boy looked frightened, defeated--face streaked with tears.

I turned to Phillip's partner.

"And YOU, Michael, will get the same--except a milder strap, and
in the cafeteria."

"Yes, sir."

The tears flowed freely now, as the severity of my sentence began
to sink in--both lads upset, trying to be stoic.

Somehow, they looked cuter this way--alive with emotion--unable
to hide their feelings.  Afterward, they became silent,
apparently thinking a long while about their fate--perhaps
becoming more resigned to it.

My two helper boys apparently didn't know this, but to wear a
jock during a routine assignment was not a serious crime.

Overall, the punishments I'd announced were over the top for what
they had done--except for Phillip, whose crime was grievous--an
offense against the demands of honor itself, and Michael.
Although I was sure Michael had taken no offense.

"May I speak, sir?" Phillip asked, still shaken.

"Yes."

"Sir, I'll be your . . . personal slave . . . do anything you
want, sir . . . if--if you don't do this."

Here was a 14-year-old boy, shocking me--propositioning me as
street whore would.

"Me, too, sir," Michael said, gulping in fear.

And of all things, the younger boy chanting the same tune.  I
gathered my wits about me.

"You expect me to agree?  Just like that?  With absolutely no
foreknowledge?" I said.

"Foreknowledge, sir?" Michael asked, crestfallen with the
realization that I was not simply accepting the offer.

"Yes.  Come on!  You're both smart.  I have no idea if you boys
can fill the bill."

No light of understanding came upon either face.  This, in spite
of the fact that sex acts between a supervisor and his boys were
common occurrences.

"Fill the bill . . ." Phillip said softly, absently--as if to no
one in particular--lost in thought, looking for all the world as
if he were searching for the answer to a complex problem.

"How do I know, for example, that you two can satisfy my sexual
yearnings?  Think about it."

I went across the room, and busied myself, digging out my
rulebook to give them time to think.  I pretended to read it.

I could not make out what they were saying, but I heard a
whispered, desperate conversation.

The boys approached me.

"I guess you want to try us out, sir?" Phillip said.

"Good!  See--I knew you boys would understand.  Yes, I'll take
you up on it.  But not now.  We have work to do."

That brought smiles to their faces.  They were as anxious to get
back to Brent as I was.

"Does that mean . . . " Michael began, "that we'll be punished
anyway?" he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Maybe.  But it does mean that I will see you naked."

I was uncertain about reporting the event, unsure if I wanted to
see my drastic sentence actually carried out.  Under conditions
such as these, I had wide discretion.  But now I was itching to
get back to our man of the hour.

"Yes, sir," both said, with no discernable anguish.

The boys started undressing.

"Not now!"  I lunged at them, grabbed them both, and tickled them
until they had fallen to the floor in a heap--their sweaty faces
beautifully blushed.

Ultimately, I got them seated again.  I'd suddenly realized I
needed more from them--a better feel of their thoughts and
opinions.

We chatted.  They had some nice things to say about me,
particularly that I was a fun supervisor.  Being only seven years
older than Phillip, I WAS fun, and I had a lot of BOY left in me.
More boy than the two of them could handle, I thought.

"I don't want you naked now."

"Yes, sir," they both said.

I turned to Michael.

"If I left it up to you--if you two were still alone out there
with Brent--what would you do?"

"He's probably gone soft by now, sir," Michael said, more with
the calm, pensive manner of a 19-year-old, than a boy of 13.

"All right.  But if he were still hard?"

"We'd strap him sir.  The maximum ten strokes," Phillip said out
of turn.

"There you go again, Phillip," I said, "speaking for your friend.
I was asking Michael."

Both boys gulped.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"What would you do, Michael?"

"If he wasn't real hard, maybe I'd paddle him, sir."

"Excellent, Michael, excellent."  Now it was clear the younger
boy was the brains of this partnership.  Restraint in the
application of pain was the key to success.

Despite Phillip's occasional outbursts, Michael was the more
impulsive of the two--puzzlingly so.

Phillip looked baffled as I praised Michael.  The cute 14-year-
old had 'hormone' written all over him--something that impairs a
boy's judgment.  Plus, I knew I'd frightened him badly.

I wanted just to hug Phillip and suck him off, but this wasn't
the time.  Phillip was sensual, warm, quietly loving--in his
awkward peculiar way.

Phillip's 13-year-old partner, Michael, didn't have the same
sexual potential, in my view, especially since many 13-year-old
boys have dry orgasms and rather small equipment.  That didn't
mean Michael wouldn't be fun to play with, at times, now that I'd
gotten somewhat acquainted with him.

After all this, I wanted to see them naked quite badly, but had
to draw out the tension and do it at just the right time.  It
would be worth the wait and the strain on my cock and balls.
Besides, it was Brent I'd pay to see naked--and he was
immobilized in the nude, in another part of the building--free
for the looking.

The boys' unspoken question--'What do you think of our answers
concerning Brent's handling?'--permeated the air, and hung over
them darkly.  I think the pair squirmed, waiting for me to say
something.

Phillip and Michael were bewildered again when I issued them new,
unlined, just plain jocks to put on.  I had a brilliant plan.

At my order, back to the bathroom they went, and returned with
jocks and shorts on, wondering if I'd gone mad, I was certain.

Not much was said on the way back to Brent's training area.

When we came within long-distance view of Brent, Michael's theory
proved correct.  The stunning 17-year-old had indeed gone soft.
Fortunately, the feathers were not operating, so there was little
stimulation for the fine lad, allowing him to rest--except for
the dildo, inserted but not vibrating at the time.  This meant
that instead of finding him erect, we'd have the fun of making
him erect.  Indeed preferable.

Brent hadn't seen us yet, but he seemed relaxed, despite his
hours on the apparatus--bound securely to it, with his arms
straight out as if on a cross.  The base of the device was a sort
of tall tripod--the apex of the inverted 'V' at shoulder height,
allowing access to his fine, 17-year-old buttocks.

Brent tensed the moment he saw us.  Up close, I saw that his
balls were still a firm sphere of flesh--wet with pre-cum from
his previously dripping penis, which looked as if it may have
released quite a bit of the pent-up liquid during our absence.

I had a personal liking for a tight scrotum, particularly on a
boy upwards of 15 years.  A pre-cum coated one was irresistible.

Immediately, I fondled the lad, gently squeezing and fingering
all his luscious-looking parts.  His scrotum was swollen as the
boys predicted, and if I prodded or tapped him too vigorously
there, he winced in pain.  So I proceeded carefully.

Brent's muscles stiffened, as if to resist me.  But his
adolescent penis, brimming with youthful appetite, responded with
ideas of its own.  The boy began to erect at my first touch.

While he was still halfway soft, I released his thickening cock,
and ran a finger under his slippery balls.

"Uhhhhh," Brent groaned.

With no further help from me, Brent became fully erect.  My
helper-boys licked their lips.

"Are you right-handed or left-handed, lad?" I asked, initiating a
step in my plan.

"I'm right-handed, sir," Brent replied.

I untied the many ropes that fastened the subject's right arm to
the crossbar, leaving that arm completely free.  I saw evidence
that more efficient mechanical fasteners had been used at one
time, but here we were with ropes.

In any case, freeing his arm meant that I had complete a crucial
component of my plan.

"Let's see if he'll masturbate, and sentence himself to a
whipping," I said to my young helpers.

The untying was very unusual, evidenced by the boys' look of
extreme surprise.  Likely I was breaking new ground here, letting
Brent have a free arm.  But I was convinced my idea would work.

"I won't jerk off!" Brent shouted defiantly.  This he said
apparently to thwart our purpose--despite the fact that his hand
slid along the top side of his penis, causing a jump in the
swollen organ.  Perhaps it missed its owner's touch.

Brent was ready.  Hard as stone now.  I turned to my helpers.
"Suck him, boys.  Michael first."

As I said that, two young faces lit up, as if they were mentally
rubbing their hands together gleefully.

"And if you make him come, I'll whip the both of you before I
report it."

That was a lie.  It wasn't even allowed for boys their ages.  But
it scared the hell out of them.

Brent gave a small sigh, taking his hand away from his
unsatisfied penis, knowing he was in for more cock-teasing--to
suffer at the hands and mouths of the two little experts.

Michael walked hesitantly toward the boy--to take his turn on the
well-formed, nicely-sized spear of flesh.

"Oh!" I said, stopping Michael in his tracks, "It's time for you
two boys to get naked."

I thought my youthful helpers would faint.

"Naked?  NOW, sir?"

"You heard me."

The pair blushed crimson.  Brent looked on with interest.

This was highly irregular.  The supervisor and his helpers were
always dressed during this type of training, as far as I knew.

And I was convinced Brent would not hold out much longer--he
would soon break, and voluntarily agree to perform his first
male-to-male sex, I was certain.

"Leave your jocks on for the moment."

"Yes, sir."  They were only too happy to comply.

I inspected poor Brent's genitals again, running my fingers
gently over them, causing the boy to moan involuntarily.  Then I
decided to get a taste of him, and slid my mouth over his excited
flesh.

"Ahhhhh!" came the 17-year-old's shout of erotic pleasure, mixed
with pain and fear--the throb of his fine scepter superbly
titillating with its strength and texture, pulsating splendidly
in my mouth.

"Yes!" I said to my two helpers, "Suck him nicely now.  Oh, and
take your jocks off, boys."

"Sir, please," Phillip said in renewed embarrassment, a deeper
blush on his face--duplicated by Michael, who was unconsciously
shaking his head.

I would fix their reluctance, and have a little fun in the
process.

Looking up, I was pleasantly surprised to see Brent blushing--yet
intent on the two younger teens facing him.  Perhaps he was
responding in sympathy with the lads, or recalling his initiation
to the academy--his own humiliating experience, when forced to
undress in front of an assembly of students.

This was perfect.  The little imps stood there half frozen--still
wearing their jocks.

"You know boys, I think Brent could use a little entertainment,"
I said with a cheery sound in my voice.  "Yes, bend over for a
bit of paddling, lads!  No, face your butts the other way so
Brent can watch.  Hold your ankles, now."

I was sure my helper boys had a full body blush at this point.

I took a drilled hardwood paddle from the toolbar, and went to
work.  I thought ten strokes each was quite fair.  And their new,
yet-to-be-removed jockstraps provided no covering for the bare,
pubescent buns.

WHACK!  SMACK!  SLAP!

"OW!  OW!  AHH!"

And so it went, as both boys shouted and developed more redness
on their little butts.  I experimented a bit, alternating between
the two.  The sound of one vocalized complaint followed by a
different voice was quite interesting.

Brent's reaction to the scene was a stiffer penis, throbbing
harder now--with a flow of pre-cum that dripped nicely.
Apparently the lad had used his right hand after all, unable to
resist the seductiveness of the sight in front of him.

"Boys!  Stand and turn around, facing me and Brent."

"Yes sir," came two anguished voices, all the more humiliated
now.

"Do I need to tell you what to do?"

"No, sir," they said, their penises already becoming stiff from
taking in the erotic look of Brent, now highly aroused, and with
the blush of desire heavy in his upper body.  His ragged
breathing added to the sensuality of the scene.

Knowing they would now have to bare their bodies to the boy they
were supposed to be governing, the pair of helpers wore an
enchanting look of defeat--a condition that would end abruptly
when they again had occasion to attack and tease their older
victim.

I turned to Brent--the look on his face bewitching, filled with
passion more than pain--yielding to his irresistible adolescent
urges, now masturbating slowly, openly.

Unaware, he was cooperating nicely with my plan.

Slowly, comically slowly, the two red-faced helpers pulled down
their shorts and jocks--their agonized looks intensifying with
their clothing's downward journey, their faces twisting up as if
every inch of travel caused actual physical pain.

Finally, they were naked.  And erect.

I was stunned at them.  Their cocks weren't huge--Phillip maybe
five inches, Michael about four--I supposed normal for their
ages.  But it was the look of them--stiff organs red and wet,
less so for Michael, hips set at an odd angle, faces flushed a
deep scarlet.  I had never seen boys in their early teens naked
and aroused.

They surprised me--this playful young pair with their urgent
erections, the perfect picture of fervent, male sensuality.
Never would I have guessed that boys these ages could exude such
raw, masculine sensuality.

My own cock stirred wildly.  The pair's blushes added to my
arousal; their darting eyes, not knowing where to look to assuage
their embarrassment; and their shaky stances, bodies wriggling in
discomfort, shifting their weight self-consciously from one foot
to the other--had my balls crawling upward and my juices flowing
frantically, soaking the front of my own thin shorts, as their
bouncing boners had me practically drooling.

Somehow I again managed to think of our 17-year-old subject.  I
turned to see him.

What a picture--Brent stroking himself dangerously close to
orgasm!

In spite of mental fatigue and the strain of his ordeal, the
exquisite young man had the sense to stop in time, his body
quivering with the half-pleasant, half-agonizing agitation of
denied orgasm.  The astonishing part, this time, was that Brent's
denial was of his own doing.

I had an image of myself bound up there on the device, letting
the two young ones have at me.  The idea tempted me.

Did Brent still have the same will as before to hold on to his
status as a straight boy?  I wondered.

"Look at him," I heard Michael whisper to his partner.

"Sshhh!" Phillip warned.

"Suck him now," I said calmly.  "Do it slowly, carefully--you
know what to look for--lest the lad come and spoil everything."

"Yes, sir."

My two little imps went at it.  Phillip--who was drooling from a
lower orifice at the sight of Brent--elbowed Michael out of the
way and approached Brent with his tongue out, looking up at the
sweaty, exhausted lad.

His eyes fixed on Brent, Phillip wiggled his tongue obscenely,
left and right slowly--hoping the suggestion wold elicit a
response from the desperate boy who hung helplessly on the tall,
cross-like apparatus.

Like the devil's apprentice, Phillip's eyes gleamed when Brent
squirmed delectably--knowing as he did what bittersweet torture
this little one had in store for his frazzled, unprotected
manhood.  There was still a distance between Phillip's tongue and
Brent's penis!

Brent shuddered wildly as the pointed end of Phillip's tongue
touched the underside of the inflamed cock--the imp swiping his
tongue sideways under the red tip, and snapping his head up,
smirking, as if waiting for applause--the small boy's eyes fixed
on Brent's.

"Oh, Jesus!" Brent shouted.

And Phillip swallowed Brent.

"Oh, God, PLEASE, no!  NO!"

I could see the little one's tongue, popping small bulges in his
cheeks, as it danced from right to left, assaulting the main
nerves of Brent's impossibly aroused member.  The older teen's
body squirmed in indescribable spasms.

"Yeeeeaaaaaaarrrrf!  No, no!  Stop!  Ahhhhh!"

Wisely, Phillip abandoned the thing, now flapping upward
violently, as if trying to find its tormentor, despite the
incredible frustration he bestowed.

Brent's perfect body, twisting in the agony of denial, served to
electrify me, cock and all.  The sight of two young helpers--
their diminutive penises throbbing similarly at the responses of
the valiant young man--excited me no less.

When Michael took his turn on the potent organ, Brent shook and
quivered all the more--his voice and face exhibiting the strain
of his intolerable affliction.

Brent was break-off hard, to say the least.

"Now," I said to my young helpers, "you see a healthy young man's
penis in its truly excited state.  And now I'll show you how to
get a big boy's erection down."

Of course, we had to get it down, in order to pleasure it again,
to intensify the grueling process.

Just to add spice, I slid my lips down the frenetic penis.

"Aaaaaarrrrrrrrghhh!"

Encouraged, I had an idea for more spice.  I remembered the dildo
the lad was impaled upon.  I stepped on the pedal that raised the
dildo, pressing it gently and more deeply into Brent's rear-end.

"Uhhhhhhhh!  AHHHHHHHHH!!"  Up, the beautiful, shouting boy went
--on his toes now.  His exceedingly hard, wet cock throbbed
hungrily.

"Now, boys," I said to Phillip and Michael, "perhaps this is a
state of excitement and erection beyond anything Brent has
previously experienced."

Besides our handsome adolescent subject, my little helpers and I
experienced our own, extreme state of arousal.

Strange as it may have seemed to a casual observer, it was time
to get Brent's erection softened--so the cycle could be
perpetuated--tease the hell out of him and get him hard, apply
some pain to get him soft.  The sensual, maddening process would
relentlessly wear the boy down.

Picking the tawse from the rack, I took aim.  I would control the
force to give only the requisite pain, but pain it would be.  Too
little, of course, and it would take all day to get the thing
down; harsh pain would jolt the lad excessively and linger,
making Brent temporarily immune to the next round of pleasuring.

WHAP!  WHIP! WHIP! WHIP!

"Aaahhhhhhhwr!  AHH!"

A few well placed strokes of the thick strap on Brent's enticing
red buttocks were all it took to have him moaning--deeply,
loudly.  A few more smacks had him squealing in higher-pitched
tones--his sleek body jerking with each stroke of the punishing
leather.

It was amazing that his shouts were so vigorous, considering the
moderate force I was using.

"Now let's have a look," I said, walking around to the front of
the boy, "and see if this is working."

Glancing up at Phillip and Michael, I had a feeling it wasn't
working.  My eyes confirmed that result.  "Excellent!  A little
more should do it."

I repeated the strapping, harder this time--but nothing the
strong delectable lad could not endure.  Besides, as a student
here, Brent had the right to stop the tawsing at any time.  His
young male pride would not yet allow that--especially with two
little ones, two and three years his junior, observing his every
breath.

Two nodding heads greeted my eyes before I took a step toward the
front of the boy.

"You see how it's done then," I said with a flair, my eyes
confirming that Brent was no longer fully erect.

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir.  Did you want us to try it, sir?" Michael asked
impulsively.

"Suck him again!" I shouted to my helpers.  We were close now.

"Oh God, NO!" Brent screamed, as Michael rushed to the front and
inhaled the boy's penis, taking the potent organ whole in his
little mouth.

"NOOoooooooooooooooo!"

"Good boy," I said to Michael, who had disengaged from Brent
after just a few strokes of his hot pubescent mouth on the stiff,
vibrating cock.

"It's your turn, Phillip."  Apparently Phillip had not lost his
sense of embarrassment at being naked, blushed as he still was.

At the touch of Phillip's mouth, Brent made incoherent noises--
fear-laden, erotic, nonsensical syllables.

Freeing Brent's right arm turned out to be exactly the right
tactic to take him to the edge of his physical limits and sanity.

To increase the tormented boy's responses, Phillip pressed his
foot firmly on the dildo pedal.

"Please, no!  Noooooooooooooo!" Brent screamed, "NO MORE!" the
handsome, suffering boy said with heaving, labored breaths.
"Just . . . lift him up to me--I'll suck his stupid little dick!"

More to come?  (Scroll down for updated, improved list of my
stories)

Steve
stevestoryman@yahoo.com  (text only)
Comments welcome.  I'll reply to all substantial.

UPDATED & IMPROVED LIST - FOUR STORIES
(Now with Age-Ranges & more accurate descriptions of stories)

STEVE STORYMAN'S STORIES AT:  www.nifty.org
(Approximate Age Ranges represent current and future characters)

1. hot-little-brother-series   8 CHAPTERS SO FAR
   Nifty Incest/Athletics
      A slim 18 y/o athlete wants his 16 y/o brother; caring;
      some football & locker room fun; no long game-scenes.
      Kevin & Josh.  (Ages 15-22)

2. i-wanted-my-big-brother   3 CHAPTERS SO FAR
   Nifty Incest
      A hot 15 y/o admires and pursues his brother--a sexy,
      17 y/o high-school quarterback; caring; no sports scenes.
      Chad and Adam.  (Ages 15-19)

3. hot-teen-brian   3 CHAPTERS SO FAR
   Nifty Adult-Youth
      A cute, smooth 17 y/o and some of his older friends
      discover a liking for younger guys; hot fun; all
consensual;
      Goes deep into Brian's thoughts.
      Brian, Peter, Matt & friends.
      (Ages 10-32; Most action: 13 to 19)

4. boys-joys-and-sorrows-at-sex-ed-school  2 CHAPTERS SO FAR
   Nifty Adult-Youth
      Teens trained for mutual sex; some spank, paddling, etc;
      no cruelty; some orgasm-delay teasing; exciting;
      individual and classroom/group punishment scenes;
      all consensual; group and couple's sexual scenes.
      (Ages 13-35;  Most action: ages 13-20)

stevestoryman@yahoo.com  (text only)