Date: Sun, 06 Jul 2008 08:09:02 -0400
From: puppboijeff@aol.com
Subject: Memoirs of a Master Chapter 1

I've hated faggots all my life. Even when I was a kid in
grade school, before I even knew exactly what a queer was, I
could tell who they were. They were the sissies. the ones
who sucked at sports and any other normal "guy" stuff. Most
of em were quiet and whiney, and they usually had that
nasally-sounding kinda voice.

It used to crack me up when I heard adults say that bullies
were cowards and that they picked on smaller kids mainly
because they were jealous. Shit! I used to bully fags all
the time and it sure as hell wasn't cuz I was jealous of em.
I hated their guts, and I loved to torment them cuz they
deserved it. Plus it was fun. Well. maybe not exactly "fun"
but certainly entertaining.

Back in the sixth grade, there was this little fag named
Scott. Most of the time, I didn't even notice him or think
about him. He was a nobody, really. But sometimes he just
bugged me. We had a male teacher named Mr. Matson, and he
used to be extra nice to Scott. He was a strict teacher,
especially for sixth grade, but Scott was like his pet or
something. Mr. Matson had a big paddle which he kept on a
hook up by the chalkboard. He used to give out demerits and
kept track of them on a poster board. When you got up to ten
demerits you got a paddling in front of the whole class.

I got my share of board meetings that year, just like most
of the other guys in the class. Hardly any of the girls ever
got their butts spanked, and when they did, it was not even
hard. Scott was the one kid in the class who went almost the
entire year without a single demerit. I always thought it
would be funny to see him get his ass beat in front of the
whole class. He'd be so humiliated that he'd cry like a
fuckin baby.

Mr. Matson had this gold paper weight which he kept on his
desk. It was an apple. Really it was kinda stupid, but it
was something he'd had there the entire year. I knew it
would really piss him off if it came up missing, so I
slipped it in my backpack one day on my way out of class.
Nobody saw me.

That night Mr. Matson apparently noticed that the paper
weight was missing, and the following morning he made an
announcement. He told the class that the apple had been
stolen. I sat in my chair, stone-faced, suppressing an urge
to grin. He went on to say that if the paper weight were not
returned by the end of the day, the whole class would
forfeit our end-of-the year picnic. Instead we would be each
writing an essay about the importance of honesty and respect
for the personal property of others.

I didn't really care about the stupid picnic, other than it
was a chance to get out of class for a day. I really didn't
wanna have to write an essay, though, especially not due to
some stupid paper weight that I didn't even want anyway. So
I decided that I'd just return it when no one was looking.

But then when we were at recess that afternoon, I had a
brilliant idea. I ran up to the school entrance and told the
hall monitor that I had to use the bathroom. Then I ran down
to my locker and got the paperweight out of my backpack. It
was kinda chilly that day so I was wearing a jacket and was
easily able to conceal the paperweight in an inside pocket.
Then I headed back outside to find Scottie. Of course, he
was by himself, sitting on a bench on the far side of the
playground. He was reading a book. I strutted confidently
across the lot, and sat down next to him. He glanced over at
me, somewhat startled, and nodded, too afraid to even say
anything I think.

"Hey fag, whatcha readin?" I asked. I knew that he'd be
insulted by the name-calling but it wasn't like he could do
anything about it, especially when we were alone. He just
glared at me for a second and then quickly looked away.

"I asked you a question, faggot," I said. "What's the
matter, you deaf or somethin?"

He continued to look down at his book and then barely
mumbled a response, "Derek, please leave me alone, or I'm
gonna tell Mr. Matson."

"Ya know, I don't really think you're gonna tell Mr. Matson
shit about me. In fact, I know you ain't. Ya know why? Cuz
if you say one fuckin word to him about me, I'll beat the
shit outta ya. You can't hide from me forever, fag, and I
can fuckin guarantee ya that if you fuck with me, you're
gonna be sorry."

"Derek, please. just leave me alone. I never did anything to
you."

"Fuck you!" I said with a laugh. "You've been on my fuckin
nerves since the day I met you." I slid over a little closer
to him and leaned in. I then stretched my arms out against
the top of the bench so that my right arm was resting behind
his head. As I looked out towards the playground to make
sure nobody was watching, quickly I slapped the side of
Scottie's head, nailing him hard in the ear. The "thwap"
sound that my slap made was pretty loud, but it must have
been about ten times louder to the fag. He quickly dropped
his book and reached up to grab his head.

"Oww!" he cried, as he quickly scurried to jump up out of
his seat. I casually grabbed hold of the back of his collar
and pulled him back down.

"Shut up!" I said, and again I swatted his ear, this time a
little harder. Tears were already welling up in his big
brown eyes. He looked over at me fearfully, too frightened
to even speak. "Listen up, bitch." I said. "There's
something that we gotta talk about. And don't start bawlin
either. You're such a pansy."

Scott just sat there, now trembling. "Ya know that
paperweight that Mr. Matson lost?" Scott looked at me all
wide-eyed and nodded. "Well. I know that you're the one who
took it," I said.

"No I didn't!" Scott shouted, again trying to jump up out of
his seat. I pulled him back down again and this time swatted
his ear harder then ever, three times in succession. He
jerked his arm upwards and cupped his palm over his ear, now
beginning to cry openly.

"Shut the fuck up!" I said. "And if you don't stop cryin,
I'll give you somethin to really cry about!" I glared at him
as he sat there in an obvious state of terror. "You DID
steal the paperweight, fag. I know you did, cuz I saw you.
And you're gonna take it back to him and confess so the rest
of us don't have to do that stupid fuckin essay."

"But Derek," Scott whined, "Honest, I didn't steal it, and I
don't have it!"

It was then that I reached inside my jacket with my left
hand and pulled out the apple, sliding it over to him and
dropping it in his lap. "Oh really?" I said. "Well what's
this then?"

"Derek!" Scottie whined, "You stole it!"

"Shut up, bitch!" I said, this time, flicking his ear hard
with my middle finger. I knew it had to hurt after I'd just
swatted it several time. "You ever drink out of a toilet,
fag?" I asked casually.

"No!" Scottie cried. "Please. please, Derek!"

"Ever have the back of your underwear pulled up to the
middle of your back?"

He shook his head.

"Ever get kidney-punched about fifty times in a row?"

He stared at me, trembling.

"Ever have to eat a pile of dogshit? Huh? I can't fuckin
hear you faggot!"

"No! No Derek. none of those things."

"Well you better confess to stealin the apple, or you're
gonna find out first hand what all of em are like. and then
some. Understand?"

"Derek, I'll be in so much trouble if I tell him I stole
it."

"I know," I laughed. "That's the idea. Better you than me."

"Okay. okay. just leave me alone. I'll do it."

I knew this was too easy. The faggot was gonna nark on me.
He wouldn't agree that quickly. But time was running out,
cuz the recess bell was about to ring. All I could do was
wait and see what happened. If he told on me, I already knew
Mr. Matson would believe him, but at least then I'd have the
fun of getting even with Scottie later. If he confessed,
then I'd have even more fun watchin him be humiliated.

Well it was that day that I learned just how easy it is to
manipulate fags. To my surprise, Scottie did march back into
that classroom and confess to stealing the apple. He got an
immediate ten demerits and ten hard swats of the paddle in
front of the whole class. He also got detention on the day
of the end-of-year picnic, and he had to write an essay.

I, on the other hand, got to experience the pleasure of
watching it all happen. Not only was it funny, but it was a
trip to realize I had that kind of power. I loved the fact
that the fag had to obey me whether he liked it or not. Even
though he had the option of telling on me, he knew that his
fate would've been worse if he disobeyed.

My dick was hard as I sat there watching him get paddled. It
wasn't from being turned on by him, but from the power I had
over him. It was this sixth-grade experience that paved the
way for two very entertaining and carefree junior-high years
to come. And high school, of course, was even better.