Date: Tue, 01 Aug 2000 21:07:57 EDT
From: Danny Meyer <sittinhome@hotmail.com>
Subject: BOYZ BRUTAL TRAINING SCHOOL 03
Archive;'Boyz Brutal Training School #02'{Danny Meyer}( MB, BB,
slow, bd, sm, cbt, tort, anal, inc, twink, ws )[]
________________________________________
BOYZ BRUTAL TRAINING SCHOOL - Chapter 03
________________________________________
by Danny Meyer
Copyright (C) August 1, 2000 by Danny Meyer
Send comments to:
sittinhome@hotmail.com
______________________________________________________________
WARNING: This entire story is fantasy. It is not a reflection
of life, nor should anyone attempt to re-enact, or recreate any
of these actions or incidents, which are entirely fictitious,
and potentially dangerous.
This fantasy was written for gay men and women. Some bi men
and women may also enjoy it, as well as some straight men and
women, who are curious. If you do like male to male sex, and
discipline, read on. This is a fictional story. None of it
ever really happened. None of these people are real people.
The story is all about sex, and pain, with young adult men,
and younger men in their teens, from 13 to age 22. So, just
assume, all of the action is teen-to-teen, or teen-to-man.
In other words, only gay stuff. The cast is 100% all male.
If you like, and you're allowed to read this, go for it.
If not, have a good day. No hatred or prejudice here.
________________________________________________________
ALL NAMES USED IN THIS STORY ARE COMPLETELY FICTITIOUS.
ANY RESEMBLANCE TO REAL PERSONS IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL,
AND UNINTENTIONAL.
________________________________________________________
"We give license to barbarous fantasies, to roam freely,
in our minds, but we never re-create them, in the flesh."
________________________________________________________
***** CHAPTER 3 *****
Gordon: Owner of the training school
John: About to be hired to work at the school
Steve: (Stephen), a 15 year-old, current initiate
Brian: Support boy, 14, for Steve, during the initiation
Gregory: A Master, who plays a part in the initiation
Michael: Cute, 15 year-old, current initiate, who looks 9 or 10
Peter: Cute, 15 year-old initiate, who looks 17
_______________________________________________________
AT THE END OF CHAPTER TWO....
In the audience, the 13 and 14 year-olds were on their knees,
orally servicing the other boys--15 to 20 years old. Shrieks and
groans of orgasm, and near-orgasm, could he heard, sporadically--
a sort of slow, random emergence of arousing, sensual sounds.
There was one boy, who was not present, for the initiation. He
was in a very special place. Above the din of the initiation
ceremony, his blood-curdling scream pierced the festivities.
It was striking, how similar the squeaks and moans of the boys'
orgasms were to the wails of pain.
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(Chapter 3) - The initiation continues
"What the hell was that scream, Gordon?"
"That sound came from a boy in our maximum punishment
room. We deliberately don't soundproof it--that has a wonderful
fear-inducing effect on the residents. We do have one other such
room that is soundproof, for the more vocal sessions."
"Gordon, to be honest with you, that scream scared the
crap out of me. Is there something you're not telling me about
this place? You told me, no permanent damage, but..... it sure
sounded like the kid was getting his balls pulled off, or worse.
I just can't work here if you're going over the line with these
poor..."
"I assure you again, on my honor, that, while we do get
very rough in some cases, the only permanent damage is the butt
or back scarring, that I mentioned before, and even then, I'm not
talking about anything hideous, John. I'll be frank with you.
"In our early days, we did have some accidents, before we decided
to hire a full time doctor, to be available to give immediate,
full medical treatment to a boy, on a moment's notice; to check
out, and advise us, on some of our methods, and to advise us on
what signs to look for, when a boy's bodily limits are reached,
to avoid accidents. Since then, we have a clean record.
"We have three doctors, now. I permit no training or punishment,
of any risk, if the doctor is not here for some reason, although
we have a network of backups, so, getting a doctor to cover a
shift, or part of one, is not a problem. Of course, there are
nurses here, 24hours a day, male, of course--TWO of them, during
first and second shift. I personally lock the soundproofed
punishment room whenever the doctor is absent--just in case,
John."
"That's very reassuring, Gordon, thanks."
It was interesting that John made no inquiry, as to the nature of
the accidents, of our early days. Perhaps he was more disturbed
than I thought, about the desperate, disembodied scream.
During this pause in the initiation ceremony, our 15 year-old,
naked and shaken, star initiate, Steve--who looked, for all the
world, more like a taller version of a 12 year-old boy--was
"standing idly," with Brian, his support boy, I explained to
John.
"'Idly,' is a bit of a misnomer, of course," I went on, "As you
can see, both boys are superbly erect, and far from motionless."
"I like the way you put that, Gordon. Yes, they're not
exactly idle, the way they're stroking each other."
"Yes, that's part of Brian's task, to sooth and relax
Steve, so he can build his strength, between segments."
I had to point out to John, how painfully slowly Brian was
stroking the waifish initiate. The slowness was to prevent
young Stephen from reaching orgasm.
"Segments! That's funny, Gordon. At this rate, we'll
never get to dinner. Damn! That kid's butt is so red!"
"We can leave now, if you like, John."
"Well, ahhhhhh.......... no, that's OK, I think I'll
stick around for a while."
"Glad to hear it. I rather like watching the initiations
myself. I think the break is over, John."
"What happens now, Gordon?"
"I'll let it be a surprise for you."
Four extremely cute sixteen year-olds moved the raised platform
up the aisle, somewhat, creating a mini-runway.
"This is the part the audience loves," I told John, "they
get to see the boys up close, with the raised platform where it
is now."
Then, Gregory led the curious entourage of eight, naked,
drippingly-aroused initiates up onto the stage, and lined up all
eight of them in a single row, centering them. At first the row
of boys faced the audience, as a chorus line would. Then Greg
turned them to face to the right, in the general direction of the
platform. Meanwhile, support boys and cum boys alike, scrambled
into position, on stage, with the initiates.
Standing beside each of the eight initiates, now, was a personal
support boy. The support boys stood upstage of their respective
initiates, away from the audience, to allow the aroused, seated
onlookers an unobstructed view of the eight.
Stephen, and Brian, his support boy, were the closest to the
platform. I could not help being aroused by all of their tight
little bodies and golden skin. Adding to my excitement were
their incredibly hard penises--some looking pre-pubescent, or
pubescent, others, closer to adolescent. All were absolutely
stunning specimens of beautiful, blossoming boyhood.
The stage floor, in the area of the standing initiates, was
littered with cum boys, who were licking the floor, on their
hands and knees--frantically trying to keep up with the volume of
precum these naked, sex-starved young males were producing--with
their hormone-enhanced erections.
"The lot of them get a severe, shoulders-down strapping
if they don't do their jobs properly."
"Who, Gordon?"
"The cum boys, sorry John."
I was becoming so aroused, myself, I wasn't entirely alert to my
own speech.
I was sure with the wonderful sideways view of all eight boys and
their lust-filled, throbbing penises, the entire audience was
drooling--and not necessarily restricted to a single orifice.
I would have believed, between the initiates and the audience,
there was enough precum flowing, to lubricate the building's
brick exterior, and slip it down, into the ground.
"Damn! All eight of them are hard, Gordon! And those
support boys are gorgeous."
"Those Goldens are all beautiful boys, John. That's one
of the criteria for becoming a Golden. Yes, the lot of them are
super-hard."
"The tea, right?"
"Yes. Also, do you see the row of cum boys kneeling next
to each initiate?"
"How could I miss them, Gordon. I'm trying to watch the
whole group. They all look so young, and little, I'd swear they
were 10 and 12 year-olds."
"They may look that young, but look at their dicks, the
whole lot--there's hardly a small cock on that stage. No, the
cum boys are thirteen, every one of them. It's their job to
freshen up their particular initiate's hardon, if his support boy
isn't doing so, should the initiate's erection start to droop.
"Being selected to do this is one of the highest honors a cum boy
could have. We want our other residents and masters to have
something nice to look at."
"Nice to LOOK at? I can't believe how...... Uhhhhhhhhhh!"
I turned around, just in time to see John shoot a healthy load,
on the tiled floor.
"You're definitely catching, on, John. Not a bad load, I
might say." John seemed to recover quickly, and ignored my
comment.
"Gordon, now that I get a better look at all eight
initiates, they don't all look fifteen. Some of them look to be
twelve, or so. The one at the other end looks like he could be
9 or 10. And that one boy looks to be sixteen or seventeen.
"The range of youth, John. The one at the end, Michael, he
IS quite small. I believe he weighs only 60 pounds, (27 Kg).
Again, I say keep your eye on their dicks, for a more accurate
estimate of their ages, although that isn't foolproof."
"Keep my eye on them? I can't take my eyes OFF them."
"The tall one you said looked 17, is Peter Towbridge.
He's a very sexual animal. He towers over the rest of them,
and every one of the smaller, other seven, has lusted, madly,
after Peter."
"Damn, sexy kid. Cute as hell, Gordon."
I could see John admiring the slender lad. Peter was very
striking. He was thin, tight, with casually tossed, curly,
blonde locks, sky-blue eyes, measuring in at 5 foot 11, 150
pounds, (180 cm, 68 Kg), and a respectable, perfectly sculpted
hardon, measuring a bit over seven inches, (18 cm). He had very
little pubic hair, for his age, but the superb definition of
this tall boy's little muscles were one of his most outstanding
features. The 15 year-old's large, tight nutsack looked as if it
were ready to burst.
"We call this group, 'Superboy and the Seven Dwarves,' among
ourselves, John."
"HA!! That's hilarious, Gordon, but, Steve and that 14
year-old, Brian--those two are doing it for me. And Peter is
just too hot! I can't get this thing to go down."
"That isn't all bad. If the door weren't locked, I'd be
tempted to say, 'Keep it in your pants,' John," I said,
jokingly. John blushed a bit. "Besides, it's a nice one," I
added, deliberately furthering his embarrassment.
The MC took his place at the platform, and stepped toward his
microphone. Eight 'boom microphones' loomed down from above,
toward the initiates on stage, in an effort to capture every
sound, and deliver it to all present. The sound from the boom
mics was transmitted to headsets, in the audience, to lessen,
somewhat, the initiates' awareness of our audio snooping, by not
blasting it over the P.A., where they would hear themselves,
amplified. There was an additional circuit, that fed the P.A.
audio to the headsets, as well.
John and I also, could hear every sound, in the secluded room,
that sat above the stage, and served as my second office.
One of the masters walked up to the platform and discreetly spoke
to the MC. During this distraction, Stephen spoke to Brian, in
soft, semi-hushed. tones.
"Brian! God, slow down. I feel like I'm gonna cum," the
nervous little lad said to his support boy, referring to the
speed at which Brian was stroking Stephen's impressive hardon.
We could all hear clearly.
"OK, Steve, but if I go any slower I won't be moving."
"Brian, I can FEEL it, and my nuts are pullin' up."
"OK, Steve, I'll stop, then. But, hell, all I'm doing is
stroking your dick. What are you gonna do when I'm busy holding
you, or something, and your cum boy sucks it? You're not allowed
to cum, you know."
"Oh, shit, Brian. I didn't think of that. If he's sucking
me, Can I tell him to stop?"
"Well you can, yeah, but, he'll only try to suck you, when
you start to go down."
"Go down? Shit, I think my dick is locked into a hardon,
for the rest of my life!"
"Yeah. I know. Been there. I wish it was a "free hour,"
Steven, and I had you in my room."
"Why?"
"Because you're HOT, Steve! You heard that applause--you
are so fine, dude. I wanna suck that dick, and fuck your cute,
fifteen year-old butt, that's why."
Steven smiled broadly at Brian's announcement, and began to rock,
slightly, on his feet.
"Shit, that sounds so good, Brian. I'd let you."
"LET me? You wouldn't to it BACK, to me?"
"Yeah I would," Steve said, so sincerely and softly, as
both boys blushed, in their youthful innocence. "Brian, is it
true you like to get paddled?"
Steve had changed the subject, as apparently the conversation was
having an interesting effect on his already aching erection.
Brian studied the boy's face, for a moment, sensing Steve's
fearful incredulity.
"Steve, don't judge all paddlings by what you just
got. Greg's fine looking, but he's a monster in the training
room. That's probably the baddest paddling you'll ever get."
There was an air of admiration in Brian's voice.
"No shit?" Steve said, almost happily, "I didn't know
that."
Stephen's cock grew before our very eyes, as he let Brian's
words sink in. Steve's brittle-looking, swollen hardon was
reaching new lengths.
At the same time, Brian's 14 year-old, engorged penis was
competing nicely with Stephen's, I thought.
Two of the cum boys seemed to be competing--with their tongues,
lapping at the floor--for the precum of this delicious-looking
duo--their erect dicks flat against their abdomen, as they
lapped at the floor, and dueled their tongues, intermittently.
Brian was staring at Steve's body.
"I wanna fuck your ass so bad, right now."
"I just wanna get this over with. I'd love you to fuck
me. I wish there was a way to 69 fuck," Steve said, with a
nervous laugh.
"Don't worry Steve. Unless something goes wrong, the
worst part's over."
"No SHIT?"
"Shhhhhh! Don't say I told you."
Brian was well trained. And Stephen fell for the lie. The poor,
little lad didn't know what he was in for.
Ironically, the boy in maximum punishment chose this moment, to
let out more, nerve shattering, agonizing screams. All over the
stage, you could see scrotums, shrinking fast, involuntarily, in
squeamish response to the gruesome, pain-drenched howls.
Apparently, the MC was not pleased with the two cum boys, who
playfully competed for Steven's and Brian's pre cum. He called
the two cum boys upstage, center.
"Ten, hard blows of the razor strap, from behind, for each
of you," the MC intoned, loudly, imposing a harsh, frightening
sentence on the two young striplings, but also insuring that
their tender nipples and penises were safe, for the moment, as
the dreadful punishment was to be dispensed, "from behind."
"This won't be any schoolboy strapping, I can assure you,"
I said, cautiously, to John
Soon, two teams of masters had the pair of young offenders
suspended, upside-down, by their ankles--the poor boy's hands
about an arm's length off the ground. For the short duration of
this punishment, it wouldn't harm them, a bit, to be upside down,
for now.
The expressions on the little lads' faces were ones of sheer
terror, although I found myself having to get my head into an
inverted orientation, to determine this accurately. I could
see the frightened faces of the two little ones quickly flush to
a sensual, bright red.
A pair of masters for each boy stood on either side of their
prisoner, pulling the boys' legs apart, as far as they could get
them. This brought loud cries of pain from each of the terrified
little lads, who felt as if their groins would rip apart, at any
moment. The young ones knew they were in for it, as unexpected
interruptions of the proceedings were considered serious behavior
violations.
A pair of masters, each carrying a deadly-looking, long, thick
razor strap, walked ceremoniously, down the main aisle, and
approached the two pitiful-looking cum boys, trembling in the
discomfort of their humiliating, uncomfortable pose.
At that moment, you could hear a pin drop, it was so quiet--
reflecting the stunned anxiety, that permeated the little
theatre.
The one unfortunate boy had the dubious distinction of having
young Gregory be his tormentor, for this difficult, painful
strapping.
For this type of activity, the masters were almost always naked,
and their thick, erect penises added eroticism to the overall
atmosphere--laced as it was, with the trepidation of the moment.
You could see the thin, white bodies of the two boys trembling,
apprehensively--looking limp, and lifeless--despite their boyish
undulations--having lost their erections some time ago, out of
unspeakable fear.
The masters were all in position, as the MC nodded. His silent
signal remained undetected by the intended targets of the cruel,
menacing, leather implements.
Out of empathy and sheer dread for their innocent, little
companions, a few of the less hardy initiates began to lose a
little of their superb adolescent hardness, and cum boys were
happily sucking some of the best looking 15 year-old cock in the
county.
The two masters--instruments of punishment in hand--eyed each
other, knowingly, as they attempted to coordinate their blows.
I watched Gregory as he took a long backswing, and thrust the
strap forward, furiously--landing a cruel, colossal blow to the
tight, young buttocks in front of him, with phenomenal force--
followed quickly by Greg's co-torturer's equally wicked blow.
"SPLAT!! SMACK!!"
The two, torturous sounds were almost painful to behold, because
of their incredible intensity. Yes, it was leather, beating bare
skin, but there was an angry harshness to the impact, that defied
description, except for the enhancing effect on the aroused cocks
of most of the onlookers.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"
"Ohhhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhh!!!!"
The ear-splitting, death-like cries of the two little victims,
lent an eerie, erotic chill, to the arousing scene.
Another mammoth pair of blows battered the helpless 13 year-
olds, and the screams of the boys escalated, noticeably, as their
agony became apparent, and their youthful bodies and immature
voices expressed it with the fierce, titillating energy of their
potent, raw pubescence.
>From the audience, moans of young orgasms could be heard, dotting
the brief silence between the immense, simultaneous blows to the
twin, tender, screaming bodies.
The other four masters had their hands full, trying to quell the
boys' efforts to twist their bodies and kick their legs, wildly--
as if to ward off the dreadful pain, somehow.
More Herculean blows slammed mercilessly into the quivering young
boys' tender buttocks, backs, and legs--as the room echoed with
the macabre blend of pain-wracked howls, mighty whacks, and low,
orgasmic murmurs. The shrill, urgent, pitiful sounds of the boys
became more desperate--frenzied--as if shouting and screaming for
their lives.
Wide, thick welts, devilishly red, appeared to cover the backs,
butts, and thighs of the two, highly vocal, squirming, wriggling
boys.
"The 12 and 13 year-olds wiggle the best," Brian said
contentedly, to Steven--now somewhat unnerved by the grisly
torture of these unexpected ministrations.
"That razor strap hurts more than some whippings, you know,"
Brian added, quite dryly, causing little Stephen to shudder,
distastefully--adding to the lump of fear, in his throat,
that made him incapable of uttering a sound, at that moment.
It seemed that no one was counting, and I highly suspected that
the poor little boys were getting considerably more than their
allotted ten blows. Their screams intensified and became
shrieks, as the unrelenting, dreadful pain of the fierce,
barbarous strapping, continued.
The pitiful boys' hoarse shouts of horror filled the room with
the painful echoes of their torture. Writhing in agony, and
thoroughly humiliated, they sobbed audibly, now, between the
wails of their jarring, excruciating blows.
"The masters will prepare for their final blow," the MC
intoned, shamelessly."
"It's about TIME," John shouted, almost angrily. You guys
are really bad at giving these kids a break!"
I was glad that we were in a sound-proofed room. I noticed John
wasn't taking his eyes off the action.
Fresh squeals of pain followed the MC's announcement, as the
pairs of assistant masters tugged furiously at their victims'
legs, which could not possibly be spread apart, any farther.
I watched the two masters shift--raise their heavy straps high in
the air, and hesitate, momentarily.
Glancing at the MC, I could tell that he did not object to the
fact that this blow was about to be given, "from above," so to
speak, although quite technically, it was from "below."
The MC gave a sharp nod, and I watched the masters slam the
straps down into to the poor boys' unprepared, vulnerable groins,
and the tips of the straps slammed, cruelly, against the tender
cocks and tight balls of the two unfortunate, desperately howling
and twisting lads.
The incredibly pathetic cries of the two young cum boys cut,
morbidly, through the air. They screamed, squealed and shouted,
so vigorously, I thought their thin, high voices would fail
completely, as their tortured, little faces flushed an ominous,
dark red.
A roar of cheers and hoots went up from the audience.
One, brave, masturbating, seventeen-year-old spectator shouted a
mighty, "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" as this boy's intense orgasm gripped him,
suddenly, and his powerful, monolithic, sweet stream of cum shot
forcefully, straight upward--a very impressive five feet or so--
and landed, splatteringly, on the head and lap of the 16 year-old
boy, in front of him--who was, of course, then obliged to express
his momentous gratitude to the older boy, for this honorable,
erotic shower.
Another macabre, bone-chilling outcry pierced the walls of the
auditorium, from the distant chamber, beyond.
"Take them back to their posts," the MC said, heartlessly.
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If you like this so far, or want to help me keep going, tell me
what you like, or send me some ideas.
Write to: sittinhome@hotmail.com
Let's pick up on the email, guys. This stuff is hard to write.
All email is private.
Thanks. --Danny Meyer
P.S. If you like to write a lot--write a bunch! 8-)