Date: Tue, 15 Aug 2000 13:08:39 EDT
From: Danny Meyer <sittinhome@hotmail.com>
Subject: BOYZ BRUTAL TRAINING SCHOOL - Chapter 4
Archive;'Boyz Brutal Training School #04'{Danny Meyer}( MB, BB,
slow, bd, sm, cbt, tort, anal, inc, twink, ws )[]
_______________________________________
BOYZ BRUTAL TRAINING SCHOOL - Chapter 4
_______________________________________
by Danny Meyer
Copyright (C) August 15, 2000 by Danny Meyer
Send comments to Danny, at:
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
torture, 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 WHOLLY FICTITIOUS, AND BEAR NO
CONNECTION WITH, RESEMBLANCE, OR RELATION TO, ANY REAL PERSON.
ANY SUCH SIMILARITY IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL, AND UNINTENTIONAL.
_______________________________________________________________
***** CHAPTER 4 *****
_______________________
APPEARING FOR THE FIRST TIME, IN THIS CHAPTER:
Jason: An 18 year-old student, facing punishment
Willis: A master, for Jason
Bobby: A 13 year-old cum boy
Dr. Tormadillo: Day shift medical doctor
_______________________
APPEARED IN A PREVIOUS CHAPTER:
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 THREE....
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.
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.
------------------------------------------
(Chapter 4) - Initiation interrupted
I continued to explain things to John, as the activities
progressed, giving him as much background as possible, without
becoming a distraction, from the erotic adventures before us.
The familiar sounds of wood, crashing against the swinging metal
doors, at the back of the theatre, told me that the initiation
would soon come to a halt, temporarily.
A large St. Andrew's cross, (normally known as "the cross,") was
brought through the metal, back doors, and carefully rolled down
the aisle. The giant X was a stern, but welcome sight, to the
titillated onlookers, who 'oooed,' and 'ahhed' appropriately.
At this point, our day-shift doctor, Dr. James Tormadillo--
affectionately known as 'Dr. Torq,' among the more sinister
masters--made a discreet appearance on stage, beckoning the two,
freshly tortured cum boys, to join him in his examining room, for
an inspection. The anxious faces of the agitated pair's, six,
remaining, on-stage colleagues, prompted the doctor to invite
them, as well, to watch--if not, assist in--the procedure.
"Procedure, Gordon. Ha! I can imagine what that is."
"You can, John? Then you're doing quite well, and catching
on better than I thought," I said, dryly, with a bemused smile.
In the examining room, several of the other cum boys
apprehensively assisted the doctor in restraining the two, still
breathless, cum boys, against the wall, in a standard spread-
eagle position.
"You know boys," the doctor said, innocuously, to the
battered pair, "Your cocks and balls took a little bit of a slap,
back there."
The good doctor had a way of understating things.
"Yes, sir," the trembling boys replied.
"I have to examine them to make sure none of your feeling
in them was damaged, so I need to test them, do you understand?"
They understood all too well, as these two little ones had seen
this procedure before, and were not relishing the idea of having
it performed upon themselves.
"Yes, sir," the frightened pair replied, as their renewed
status as victims was dawning, dishearteningly, upon their
youthful minds.
The two 13 year-olds made a remarkably erotic sight, helpless and
frail as they were.
"I see your nice little cocks are still hard," Dr.
Tormadillo said, to no one in particular. "But I think little
Bobby should suck and lick them, anyway, and get them nice and
wet, for me." This would only increase the pain of the upcoming
procedure--moisture commonly having an amplifying effect, on the
tactile response.
Bobby wasted no time, getting on his knees, and complying with
the doctors order.
"Uhhh," one cum boy uttered, sensually, as his swollen,
erect prick was bathed in soothing, wet warmth--partially
allaying the lingering pain of his recent ordeal. Bobby slipped
his tongue under the foreskin of the beautiful little boy's
penis, causing squeals of immature delight to fill the room.
As Bobby worked to pleasure the two cum boys--and of course, wet
their genitals, thoroughly--the doctor prepared his tools, in
preparation for administering the impending examination. The
mild-mannered, medical man had before him, a small leather
apparatus, one for each boy. This could only be described as a
leather pouch, that was perfectly shaped to fit, over and around
a young boy's cock and balls. This seemed harmless enough, until
one got a closer look, and began to see that the devices were
fearfully lined with ferocious, short, sharp needles.
"These little probes, in the pouches, will help me see if
you still have all your feeling, down there." Tormadillo spoke
this well-rehearsed line, as if he were dispensing aspirin, to
relieve a headache.
The pouches fit loosely, and the doctor was meticulous, as he
cautiously applied them to the two young innocents--being careful
to apply no pressure. The tips of the dreaded needles rested
benignly, now, against the thin, sensitive boy-flesh.
As the doctor reached for his next tool, he bid Bobby to stand at
attention, as all looked on. The tool was the familiar,
ubiquitous "knee tapper"--a solid, thick triangle, used for
testing reflexes--made of a heavy, fibrous material, with a nine
inch handle attached to it.
The doctor gently grabbed one of Bobby's nuts, in his hand, and
allowed the point of the triangle to fall, unsparingly, upon the
immature testicle.
"OHhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" Shouted little Bobby, as he doubled
over in pain, at the excruciating, direct hit to his young,
sensitive nut.
"You see how a small thing can strike with a big force?"
The doctor asked, meaningfully, as if narrating an instructional
video.
The doctor's matter-of-fact attitude toward the agony he had just
inflicted, on the young lad, had a chilling effect on the lot of
them.
"Ow!! Ow! Ahhhh! Uhhhh... y-yes sir!" Bobby said,
politely, with his chest heaving, as the sudden, massive,
testicular pain convulsively squeezed all the air out of him, and
cramped the muscles in his body.
"Now, Bobby, I think you should gag your two friends, here.
I wouldn't want them to make any loud noises, that might scare
the rest of you boys."
Doctor Tormadillo handed Bobby two, small, ball gags, and Bobby,
trying to regain some sense of the use of his miserably strained
muscles, went about installing the gags into the cute mouths of
the fearful pair of cum boys.
As the doctor approached the pair, with his harmless-looking
instrument in hand, the two unlucky lads' eyes widened in terror,
as they knew exactly where this tool would strike their young,
frail little bodies. They were both totally vulnerable, in their
nakedness, bound against the wall, trembling, uncontrollably.
A few harmless-sounding thumps could be heard, as the doctor
administered the blows to one boy, then the other, on the surface
of the leather pouches. It all appeared to be quite painless--
unless one knew of the presence of the vicious pointed needles--
laced with an herbal mixture that increased the sensitivity of
their already-overwhelmed penises and scrotums--hidden beneath
the plain-looking, smooth, black leather--or until one heard the
piercing, shouted, agonized responses, of the two 13 year-olds,
to those awful, metal points.
The inevitable, powerful, youthful screams came in great volume,
from the two small victims, inducing an overwhelming sense of
horror in their remaining companions.
The too-small gags inadequately suppressed the cries of extreme
pain, and the innocent band of six diminutive onlookers blushed,
trembled, and shuffled uncomfortably. Being so close to the
fierce torture, they recoiled, apprehensively--as if in fear of
absorbing the grim torture themselves, by sheer proximity--so
savage was the scene before them.
"Mmmmmmihhhhhhrrfff----oh God, NO!!"
"Ruuuuuuughhhhhhhhh!! OHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
The impassioned, energetic squirming of these two small lads,
could only have been described as, 'incomparably arousing.'
These boyish observers, unconsciously, but protectively, placed
their hands over their little genitals, to ease the experience of
their vicarious pain, horrified as they were at the screaming
sounds, and of the macabre image of those sharp, painful points,
invisibly assaulting the most tender flesh of their unfortunate,
pain-wracked companions.
After endless, unmerciful stabs of the blunt instrument, into the
tormenting pouches, the doctor declared that the two boys had the
requisite feeling in their genitals, and could be released from
their suffering.
The doctor removed the pouches carefully, almost tenderly--
smiling warmly, at the boys, who were still frenzied and
wiggling--writhing in pain, and complaining madly, with
desperate, hopelessly unintelligible utterances of their thin,
pubescent boy voices.
Amazingly, the ingenious design of the pouch, with its carefully
engineered needle points, prohibited the production of visible
markings, on the lads' most private organs--except for a few,
microscopic pinpoints of redness, that were too small to bleed.
>From a distance of only a few feet, there were no marks visible
on the two, screaming boys.
Of course, as their parting experience, the doctor humiliated the
lot of them, by paddling their already tortured butts, while
several of the victim's companions were made to hold the jolting
victims, one by one, as the slotted, hardwood paddle thwacked,
and slapped angrily, at the pubescent, innocent little mounds of
boy-flesh.
The distraught crew of eight boys could barely walk back to the
auditorium, handicapped, as they were, by the excruciating
results of these recent ministrations.
This was no ordinary St. Andrews Cross, I explained to John. It
had one additional element. Jason Christopher was tied to it.
"Jesus, Gordon. That's the most incredible-looking kid
I've ever seen. Is he for sale? I'll take him and retire, now."
"No--and you can't retire, you haven't started working
here, yet," I said, half-laughingly.
The limping, hesitant gait of the eight returning cum boys
distracted everyone, and their raw-looking, newly-reddened butts
drew hoots and snickers from the knowing crowd, as the beaten
boys climbed the stairs, and slowly took their former places on
the stage.
By now, John and I had dispensed with pants and underwear, and as
our gaze drifted to the eight, stiff-cocked, cum boys, I glanced
over at John, and saw the erotic throb, of his own, impressive,
exposed penis.
"Yes, definitely catching on," I muttered to myself.
"From the looks of those red butts, I'd say that tea you
give them is totally amazing, Gordon," John said, unwittingly
revealing the fact that he was inspecting the cum boys' precious-
looking, erect, little dicks.
My eyes returned to the sensuously naked, Jason Christopher, and
were, again, as fixed upon the striking young lad, as John's
were.
I was concerned, seeing Jason on the cross, because I rather
liked Jason, who not only seldom misbehaved, but was practically
a model student--an icon--and a fine, young submissive.
I was very aware of the fact that, while Jason was well liked by
all, so to speak, there were a couple of masters who couldn't
wait to pounce on the boy--in effect, lying in wait for him.
Being intolerant of that kind of thing, I was keeping an eye on
those masters. One more wrong move, on their part, and I was
getting rid of them.
All in all, I didn't like the smell of this, for Jason's sake.
My hand inched, unconsciously, toward the red, "All Stop" button-
-a simple device, that sounded a horn in the auditorium,
signaling that whatever was in progress at the time, must cease,
immediately--a power I seldom needed to use. I could hardly use
it now, as there was no action on the floor.
Jason Christopher--barely 18 years old--essentially the star of
my school, because of his stunning good looks, near perfect
attitude, totally open, child-like innocence, and willingness to
help others--was now strapped, helplessly, to the giant, gruesome
symbol of grave torture.
Jason had signed a new contract, with us, two weeks ago, on his
18th birthday, essentially giving his body over to us. He would
no longer be needing a safeword. He had almost no experience, in
the outside world, and the adorable boy would be hard pressed to
fend for himself, outside the walls of our school, where he had
lived from the tender age of eleven.
Although the rule of 'no permanent damage' applied to all of our
boys, we did get considerably rougher with boys eighteen and up.
"Gordon," John gasped, Jason started here at the age of
ELEVEN? Dammit! I thought you only accepted boys 13 and up."
"We make exceptions--especially when they are as good
looking as this one--but we don't attempt to train them, that
young. We sometimes take in hard luck cases, such as Jason's,
when he was 11, and house them in a special area, away from the
other students, until they are of age.
"I personally did most of Jason's tutoring." I said, proudly.
"Since tutoring is optional, I was impressed that the boy even
wanted it. As it turned out, he was an excellent student."
Jason was 5 foot 9, 140 pounds, (175 cm, 63 Kg), blonde hair,
blue eyes, naturally hairless, with the exception of the
appropriate mild patches of hair, in his slender armpits, and of
course, around his sweet-looking genitals. He was beyond cute,
possessing an Adonis quality that was quite indescribable.
Jason was sought after by boy-lovers and man-lovers alike--so
universal was his appeal. Even the lad's feet were so perfectly
formed, they too, seemed to exude sexual pleasure, and were often
kissed and licked by his tormentors, during even the most
rigorous of training sessions.
Of course, Jason's beautiful, provocative penis, aside from the
more painful training, had received many a teasing lick and suck-
-to where the poor boy was brought, countless times, to the edge
of orgasm, and left hanging, so to speak--breathless and heaving
for air--for weeks at a time, with very little break from the
relentless licking and sucking--his sore, swollen nutsack and
fluid-drenched penis, having so often been sufficient testament
to his monumental, frenzied frustration, and unsatisfied, burning
sexual desire. I suspected some master had overdone this,
forcing the boy to violate the rule, and touch himself, in his
overwhelming need for release.
The hue of Jason's thin, silky pubic hair was so well matched
with his exquisite, golden skin-tone, that the mild threads
adorning his beautiful, boyhood, were nearly invisible. From
where I sat, Jason's boyhood appeared to be a very appropriate,
somewhat thickened, length of about seven inches, (18 cm).
Jason was the consummate boy-man. Viewed one way, he was a very
young boy. Viewed another, he was the perfect specimen of
magnetic, later boyhood--nascent manhood--in dazzling, sumptuous,
bloom.
Jason's nearly-grown muscles, though not bulked, were very well
defined. His beautiful, erect penis looked arousingly enormous,
against his perfectly proportioned, tantalizingly slender torso.
The gorgeous lad had been given a triple dose of our rather
potent, hormone "tea" cocktail, which not only kept the sensuous
boy-man erect, indefinitely, it also raised the level of his
sexual desire, so much, that his precum streamed down the shaft
of his penis, and dripped, steadily, from his smooth, semi-tight
scrotum.
Jason turned his head, from left to right, looking nervously
about, as if to find someone who would save him, from his grim
fate, as he hung, helplessly, from the imposing, wooden X.
A bright beam, from one of the lights above, illuminated Jason's
particularly fair, fine-textured, facial nap--giving him a
translucent, glowing, angelic appearance, sufficient to raise the
heartbeat of all present. As far as I knew, the boy had not yet
been given permission to shave, although I could not imagine
Jason requesting to do so. In spite of his nominal entry into
near manhood, his so-called beard was non-existent. The virginal
nap of his exquisite, youthful face was one of his more uncommon,
irresistible features.
Light shone through Jason's translucent, perfectly formed, little
ears, aiding in giving him his boyish look of supreme, young
vulnerability.
As the crowd began to recognize who this was, and what Jason's
presence on the cross signified, gasps of admiration and awe
filled the room, along with low moans of shock and sympathy,
knowing as they did, the fierce torture, that was about to be
brutally administered, to this model of young maleness--of
supreme, beautiful boyhood--respected and admired as he was, by
all.
The rueful look on the poor boy's humiliated face--despite
betraying his unavoidable, but momentarily suppressed horror--
nevertheless reflected his heavenly beauty, to the point where a
bevy of cum boys was desperately summoned, to service the newly-
aroused, young members of the audience.
Even some of the more hardened masters, were openly masturbating,
at the back of the auditorium, making little or no attempt to
hide, or separate themselves, from the small group that
congregated there.
Watching Jason, intently, John seemed to be having palpitations,
while I silently expressed my gratitude for possessing a strong
heart--so striking was this incredible boy. Now if only I had
superior endurance in the muscles of my right arm, not to mention
my soon-to-be overworked cock, I should be quite content.
Possessing a rather unprofessional attachment for this
extraordinary youth, I had to admit, that for once, I was not
totally relishing the idea of seeing a beautiful boy, punished,
however briefly.
I was relieved to see Master Willis come down the aisle. Willis
was our most experienced and judicious master, and would preside
over Jason, and be responsible for preventing his punishment from
passing over a certain line, as well as to see to it the boy got
his due torture, to the limit of his physical endurance.
Although I knew they would put the boy in fierce pain, I
retracted my hand, away from the red button, knowing that my
favorite lad was in good hands, after all.
"Good hands, Gordon? You do have a way with words," John
said, with an edge of fear, in his voice.
An unusual feature of this particular St. Andrew's cross was the
addition of two horizontal beams, one across the shoulder area,
and the second, across the knee area, for additional support of
the "X" shaped device, to which, of course, the defenseless,
blushing boy was tightly strapped. These supports were installed
so the center portion of the cross could be removed, from behind,
exposing a boy's vulnerable backside, and, of course, leaving it
open to the tender touches of his master.
Glancing over at John, I could see he was as mesmerized, by young
Jason, as I was, judging by the throbs of John's substantial
erection.
"Well John, we must go to dinner now," I said, facetiously,
but with a serious tone.
"Uhh, ...that's OK, Gordon," John, muttered, not taking
his eyes off the boy on the cross, "I... think I want to... hang
out here, for a while. You..."
My sudden burst of laughter interrupted John, who now realized
that I wasn't budging from this spot, any more that he was.
"Jesus, Gordon! You're enough to give a guy a heart
attack."
"I was testing your heart, John--saves the company on the
high cost of medical examinations."
John resumed his former attentiveness to the heart-rending sight
of the beautiful, naked boy, whose face twisted with fear--but
whose penis throbbed, looking, for all the world, like it was
inviting everyone in, for an orgy. Jason now looked down, at his
own prominently displayed, seductive cock, watching it pulse--
tracing the sensual path of the inviting, wet tip, as it
journeyed, rhythmically, toward and away from his temptingly
tight, adolescent abdomen.
Several moans of teen orgasms and strange gurgles could be heard
from the audience, now, as cum boys swallowed, furiously--their
heads bobbing, to please their adolescent co-students.
"Damn, this is too much--uhhhhhhhhh!" John uttered, as his
huge penis shot another impressive load onto the floor.
I went behind John, and rubbed his shoulders, for a few moments--
first, because I thought John was sexy as hell, second, to sooth
him a bit, thirdly, to send the subtle, reassuring message that
his orgasms were not only all right, but quite welcome, under
these circumstances. Eventually John composed himself, and
joined again, in the viewing, through the massive glass portal.
"Has the center of this cross been removed Gordon?"
"Yes."
"It doesn't look like it."
"That's because a spring-loaded paddle has been installed,
over the place where the center portion was removed. That board
you see, that looks like it goes almost all the way across
Jason's butt? That's actually a spring-loaded paddle, and when
that's pulled away and then let go, it swings back in place with
incredible force, up to 84 miles an hour! (135 Km/hr). That's
equivalent to seven times the force that little Stephen received,
when Greg pounded his butt.
John whistled, in awe of what I had just told him.
"Gordon, wouldn't that split Jason's butt wide open--to
take a whack, of that much force?"
"No, John. The weight of the paddle is just light enough,
so that, while the sting and pain of the paddle is tremendous,
the damage is minimal."
Master Willis had positioned the cross for maximum viewing by
all, and had set the brakes on the large rubber wheels.
"Look who I found playing with his pee-pee, boys!" Willis
said, with a mild flourish. Willis' use of the offensively
childish term for the nearly-grown lad's sexual organ, added,
immensely, to the gross humiliation of this unbelievably cute,
popular boy.
A mixture of laughter and sympathetic groans emerged, from the
onlookers, who, by now, were on a sort of unwritten waiting list,
for the next available cum boy.
"He was playing with his dick, Gordon? That's the reason
for all this? This gut wrenching..."
I explained to John, that masturbating was only one step below a
cardinal offense, and by our rules, required IMMEDIATE and public
punishment.
"You guys not only don't give a kid a break, but you look
for excuses to punish these kids!"
"We do. But, you'll soon learn that attempted masturbation
is a mortal sin, around here, John."
I explained to John that, to increase the fear, the master would
carry out the punishment in shuddering silence.
Two masters appeared, and began the process of administering
fifty phenomenal blows, with the built-in, spring-loaded paddle.
"WHACK!"
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggghh!!!"
The boy held his tongue, after his extraordinary reaction to that
first surprising, mammoth blow--but his intense, agonized
squirming, and contorted face, told me that the efforts of the
masters were not wasted on Jason's tender behind.
"How the hell did he manage not to holler...," John said,
rhetorically.
With this large a break, in the initiation, our special group of
cum boys, was kept busy teasing and licking the frightened
initiates, to keep their spirits and their cocks up. It was
difficult to tell, whether the giver or receiver, of these
sensual consolations, was enjoying the greater pleasure.
One of the assistant masters placed a small leather harness on
Jason's genitals, forcing his nuts back, toward his rectum, and
pushing downward, on his swollen penis, forcing it away from his
abdomen, and into a more straight-out position.
I was astounded to see a thick maple paddle, in Willis' hands, as
he began to strike out, viciously--slapping angrily at Jason's
tight, unsuspecting boy-cock. I knew that this would be an
excruciating experience, for the adorable, unfortunate lad.
"Rrrrrrrrrahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
The colossal sounds of pain-filled outcries and the incredible
collisions of the cruel blows, filled the room, as the master
pounded, relentlessly, from all directions, at Jason's sensitive
organ. The poor lad--embarrassed as he was, at being the star
pupil and now put into so humiliating a position--was screaming,
helplessly, as the torture jolted through every nerve of the
boy's jerking, squirming body.
The sounds of Jason's horrible screams, for help, depicting his
agony, echoed off the walls of the theatre, in vain, creating a
gruesome, but arousing atmosphere--as the staccato blasts of
Jason's explosive cries synchronized with the swift, cruel rhythm
of his tormentor.
At last, the offending organ was deemed sufficiently punished,
and the ghastly, penile beating ceased. The assistant master
quickly removed the leather harness, from the tortured boy's
groin, and the reddened, angry-looking penis bobbed about,
painfully.
I was more than horrified, when I then saw Willis pick up the
dreaded ball squasher, and begin to place it over Jason's
fragile, sensitive testicles. You could see the boy tense,
badly. His mouth fell open, as if to speak--beg for mercy--and
the quivering, fearful lad began to tremble, violently.
Alarmed whispers of, "Oh my God," drifted up to the boom mics,
from our younger, frightened initiates, who had been versed in
the tools of our trade, during their week in the chastity belts,
and were overwhelmed with the sights before them.
The ball squeezing device slipped easily over Jason's nuts, and
the master had just begun to turn the tightening screws.
As if it were on cue, the unfortunate boy in the mysterious room,
well beyond the theatre, unleashed another round of his blood-
curdling, pain-soaked wails.
The subsequent, eerie silence was accompanied by gulps of fear,
and sympathetic moans of vicarious pain, from the young audience,
as they watched Jason, frightfully anticipating the savage
brutality that was rapidly approaching.
As the hardened, steel plates of the ball press pushed steadily
towards each other--with Jason's young, delicate testes in
between them--the shaking boy could not suppress a desperate,
hopeless, whispered, "Oh God," of his own, at the anticipation of
the unthinkable agony to come.
As the slowly moving plates began to touch Jason's smooth
skinned, tender nuts, I thought I could make out some additional,
whispered gasps, from the half-hysterical boy, but they were
almost inaudible. The master, of course, could hear them
clearly.
"...please... sir... not this... I'll do anything..."
The master shook his head, slowly--barely perceptibly--as the
first contact of the plates made their slow, introductory, gentle
kiss, upon the pain-sensitive contents of the sweet adolescent's
scrotum.
"Please... just... kill me... instead, sir..."
Of course, that was impermissible.
"Jesus, Gordon, the poor kid!"
-------------------------------------------------------------
If you like this so far, or want to help me stay "up" to write
more of this story, please drop me an email,* of any length, to:
sittinhome@hotmail.com
You'll get better stories that way.
Thanks. --Danny Meyer
P.S. If you like to write a lot--write a bunch! 8-)
Your mail will be seen by me ONLY.
* You will not get a response, unless you say, "Reply--yes,"
or some other, clear wording that tells me you want a reply.
--------