Date: Mon, 22 Dec 2008 23:52:25 -0000
From: Anthony <Ant-boy@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Ogedei's Boy Chapter Six

Ogedei's Boy -- Chapter Six by Ant-Boy@hotmail.co.uk

By the time we all arrived back at school I thought everything could return
to the normal routine and so it seemed until we started showering ready for
bed.  I had plenty of friends to chat to and catch up on what we'd all been
up to during the holiday, admittedly somewhat censored in my case.  I never
realised at the time the rather unusual position I held in the hierarchy of
the school.  By age I was in the fourth year and I dormed and usually
socialised with that age group but as most of my lessons were taken with
the fifth and I also played sport now with the seniors I was equally at
home with many of them.  Add in the fact I'd fallen in love with computers
when the school introduced them three years back and it seemed they had in
return fallen in love with me to the extent that I spent computer classes
off experimenting on my own and even tutored first and second years in the
subject during prep twice a week.  This, I hope you will understand, was
back in the days of DOS, in fact Windows 3.1 was going to be introduced
that year and I was eager to see just how far that system could be pushed.

I see now how easily I could have been left out on a limb of my own making,
even ostracised, and belonging neither to one group or another.  The
subject came up some years later after I'd escaped from David's thrall and
Paul visited one evening.  We'd remained friends after university even
though he turned bi, or possibly straight and got married to a lovely girl
I'd been daft enough to introduce him to.  I asked him why he thought it
was that all of my friend's seemed to belong to my time at school and uni
and that anyone I met these days drifted away after a few weeks.  He said
it was obvious.  When he took my virginity, as he called it, I'd always
appeared to be mature for my age but at the same time ready and willing to
talk to or help others and never stuck up about it.  Also, he continued
with a grin, you were getting punished quite as much as anyone else,
probably a bit more.  I had to grin back and agree with him there. After
David I changed and now even he could feel the difference.  However, those
troubles were still to come, I had enough problems to deal with that first
night in the showers.

Communal baths and showers had never bothered me previously; I'd spent more
years with them than without and thought I was immune to the sight of naked
soap covered dripping wet bodies running around and indulging in male on
male horseplay, arse slapping, equipment grabbing, and the like.  I wasn't.
My eyes kept on being drawn to one body or another, not necessarily the
genital area, not even a whole body in most cases; it was almost as if I
was observing the naked male body for the first time.  In a way I suppose I
was, observing all these fit young bodies of various shades filled with
suppressed energy and testosterones, as was of course, my own.

Of course I was soon sporting a full blown erection that even my run
through the cold water showers to rinse off couldn't fully diminish.
Luckily such demonstrations were not that unusual in my school and apart
from some wry comments along the normal lines as to where my brain had
moved during the holidays no more was thought about my exhibition except by
myself.

Unfortunately, that did seem to be where my brain had moved to. I didn't
fall back into my old routine.  I'd changed; I was no longer a virgin.
Well I still was really but compared to most, if not all, my classmates, my
experiences were far beyond anything they would even have considered. I'd
had sex with someone else, more than one someone.  I no longer accepted
when invited to a mutual wank with a friend or occasional circle jerk after
in the showers as I had the preceding year.  Such activities now seemed
like child's play and I was also somewhat afraid of giving myself away as
being interested in more than just a sexual release.

I still pleasured myself far too often in solo sessions, sometimes three or
four times a day; it seemed I could never think of anything else.  Every
night my dreams seemed filled with naked men, often black men, with huge
erect cocks I would be forced to open my mouth for.  That was it, no more,
every time I got my mouth open I'd either wake with a start and a dry
throat or the dream would rewind to the beginning and start over.  I had to
change my handkerchiefs at least twice a week and the ones I sent to the
wash were a stiff as cardboard, I knew the situation couldn't continue
without something giving.

The change showed outwardly as well, in a way I was I suppose feeling my
oats, and I soon got into trouble.  Corporal punishment was taken for
granted at my school, it could be imposed for quite minor infractions and
most evenings after prep there could be well over a dozen lads lined up
outside the prefect's room awaiting punishment.  The rules for such
punishment were also quite firm and never altered in the days I attended
school.  If told to attend one striped fully and queued up outside the door
in bare feet wearing just a clean pair of white rugby shorts and nothing
else.  The only alteration allowed was the wearing of an athletic support
if that was ones norm, as it was by now in my case. We queued by class,
youngest at the front up to seniors at the rear.  That evening I was the
oldest and hence brought up the rear.

Inside I knew the process was equally set in stone.

As one lad left the room the next would knock on the door and enter when
called whereupon you would state why you had been sent for punishment.
There would be a discussion among the prefects present and you would be
told how many strokes you had been awarded, often with an alternative of
lines or cleaning duties. Up to and including the third form the beating
would be applied with a slipper, after that age with a gym shoe. Once
informed as to the number of strokes you had been awarded you had to bend
over a wooden table and have your hands grasped by one prefect while
another applied the strokes to your stretched backside.  I'd been a bit
cheeky to one of the masters and thought nothing of it when told to report
for punishment that evening, it was by no way the first time and wouldn't
be the last and nobody thought anything odd about it.

It was only when I stood at the end of the line that I considered the final
rule.  There had to be at least two prefects present, one of them head of
house who I'd had no direct contact with since term started and now I was
about to face him dressed, or rather undressed, as I was.  Just that
thought started stirrings in my jockstrap and I frantically tried to think
about something else to the extent I hardly noticed the line going down and
in fact was still standing some way from the door when the lad who'd stood
before me and unsuccessfully tried to engage me in conversation exited and
thumped my arm.

`You're next, wake up.'

I surfaced from my musings with a start and moved forward to knock on the
door.

`Enter.'

The moment I walked in my troubles began.  There were three prefects
present, Paul, Andrew and another whose name I don't recollect.  Classes
being over for the day they were all changed into casual wear for the rest
of the evening, tight jeans, T-shirts for Andrew and the other one whilst
Paul was wearing a dark thin cotton jacket open almost to his waist.  I
couldn't help it; just looking at them got me partially aroused again, I
just had to hope it didn't show, and that my jock could control it.

In school uniform of dark flannel trousers and blazers it was not so
noticeable, we were all the same, but here and now, dressed as they were it
became obvious they were young men whilst the almost naked body standing
before them was still really only a boy.  Paul didn't help matters, fully
unzipping his jacket as I looked toward him, his dark body shone in the
lamplight, his pec's appeared to bulge toward me the slightly darker
nipples standing out from a lighter ring, his taught stomach covered in
squares of slowly rippling flesh like an armadillos' shell, his eyes, when
I dared to raise my own head, looking straight into my face, his mouth open
just far enough to glimpse the brilliant white teeth it contained and a
flickering pink tongue that licked across his lips as he listened to Andrew
ask why I was reporting and my answer.

Any other time I would probably had eyes on Andrew.  He was one hundred
percent Anglo Saxon sportsman added to a reasonable brain.  All three of us
ended up at University but at school he was known more for being captain of
the school rugby and cross country teams, he just glowed with health and
fitness, his tanned body almost a mirror image of Paul, even down to the
dark curling hair above his expressionless paler face, his nickname, if he
was nowhere around to hear it, was Zombie for that very reason.

I must have held up my side of the conversation because I heard Andrew tell
me to lie over the table and be prepared to accept six for answering the
master back.  As I did so Paul grasped hold of my wrists to hold me tightly
down and I would have sworn his fingers brushed gently against the palms of
my hands as he did so.  That, the fact I was looking straight at the bulge
in his jeans, the pulsating within that bulge I was sure had to be my
imagination and Andrew telling me to open my legs as my body was too tall
to lay flat across the table edge, then using his hands to pull them open
further when he wasn't satisfied with my position which in turn pressed my
groin tightly against the wood edge, all those acts worked together and
procured the result I'd been dreading.  Somehow, even from within the
restriction of a snug jockstrap and tight stretched cotton shorts, my cock
took on a life of its own and sprang fully to life, forcing its way
sideways under the edge of the jock to lay squashed against the table edge.

I felt myself groan but thought I'd caught it in my mind before it escaped
from my mouth and turned into reality.  Paul told me later I was wrong,
that the way my own hands unconsciously stretched to grasp his wrists as he
was grasping mine and the wriggle as I opened my legs to they would go no
further and my body was held tight across the table told suggested to their
more experienced eyes I may not be adverse to what was about to happen.

Previously when experiencing a punishment I would be informed the number of
strokes I was to receive, stretched over the table and they would be
applied quite quickly one after the other, I would stand, say thank you and
walk from the room to grimace and rub my cheeks when I got outside.  Today
was different.

First there was the feeling of a hand rubbing over the tight cotton as a
voice counted `One,' followed by a Whack! As the sole of a gym shoe landed
on my cheeks and drove the breath from my body with a gasp.  Also jarring
my painfully erect cock against the hard wood.  `Two', Whack!  `Three',
Whack!

I didn't know what was happening to me.  I was hardly aware of the hand
dragging across my cheeks between each stroke, only after I'd received six
strokes and finally stood upright did the knowledge of their soft murmuring
approving voices percolate through to my brain. I just knew I was being
turned on as never before and it shouldn't be happening, I couldn't stop
it, I didn't really want to stop it but this was more than helping out a
friend with a mutual wank, that might be accepted but this was different.
It had to be wrong; I'd be finished, unable to hold my head up again.  I
wanted it, wanted more.

I got more.  `Four', Whack!  The hand exploring my lightly covered cheeks
between each stroke was becoming bolder, cupping them and feeling the heat
rising from the bruised areas.  I couldn't help myself, I knew my body was
wriggling about, pressing my groin harder and harder into the wood, just
prayed they'd think I was trying to get more comfortable when in fact all I
wanted to do was cum.  I just had to shoot; it never even crossed my mind
that it was unusual to say the least for a hand to be stroking and cupping
my heated cheeks, that there were measurable pauses between each stroke,
that my hands were gripping Pauls wrists even harder than he was gripping
mine to which unusual practice he made no comment.

My mouth was as wide open as my eyes; they were still staring straight into
his bulging crotch which I was sure had grown larger and was definitely
pulsating while my mouth was continually gasping with short shallow
breaths.  To my horror I made out my voice in the gasps, `Yes!  Yes!  Yes!'
just as the last two strokes were applied, `Five', Whack! `Six', Whack!
Quite quickly, one following the other.

That did it.  I crushed my groin even harder against the table edge and
tried to pull Paul's arms from their sockets as I finally boiled over.  I
couldn't stop; I didn't care what they saw, I was on fire both front and
rear and my cock had to let off steam which it did in abundance as my upper
body emulated an St Vitus dance on the table top.

It took a moment after my paroxysm had finished before I returned to my
senses.  For the first time in my life I felt a hot flush start from my
head and flow down my body to my bare feet standing apart on the floor I
wished would open up and swallow me down. My hands were still gripping
Paul's wrists tightly even though he'd released mine and I let them free
with a start.  I could feel that my shorts and the jock I was wearing were
soaked from my ejaculations and was also sure that would be on show when I
stood up to add to the horror of whatever they were thinking about my
actions and words of the last few moments.

The fact their own retractions and the way the punishment had been applied
was so unusual just never crossed my mind, I just knew this was the end, my
life was over, at least the life I'd led up to this point.  Nobody would
want to have anything to do with me after this.  At the same time a small
part of me knew it had enjoyed what had just happened and wished it could
get more.

As I slowly stood, not daring to look anyone in the face, I could feel my
soaking clothes starting to cool and stick on my body and was sure I could
also feel a stream of cum drying as it ran down the inside my right leg.  I
had flooded my jock and my shorts and even given the present situation and
the fact I'd just cum I was getting aroused again.  To hell with the
consequences I just wanted to get out of the room and somewhere I could
squeeze the wet jock round my cock and balls and pretend the result had
come from someone else while I brought myself off again.  I turned and
walked carefully to the door, trying not to be obvious as I tried to keep
my legs together so no more evidence would leak from under my shorts.  I
just got my hand on the handle when, `Stop!'

Oh Hell.  Now I was in for it but there was no escape, I had to turn and
face them and as I did so noticed all three faces glance down to my crotch
which had the effect of causing my hands to cover it protectively without
any thought on my part. Yes!  It was wet through and in fact some of the
contents were still dripping slowly down my inner thigh, the knowledge of
which caused the second full body hot flush of the evening.

I think that was that moment the strangeness of the situation and the
difference in the rooms' atmosphere finally managed to get past my fear of
being exposed and I remembered Pauls' actions that night in the hotel and
started to think about how the others had behaved earlier and in fact how
they were behaving now.  There was no comment about my appearance, my
behaviour earlier, even when I cupped my hands tighter over my groin.  Just
Andrew saying, `You've been here long enough to know you should thank us
before you leave.  I think that omission deserves another set, don't you?'

That was the first time I saw any change expression in his face, it wasn't
very much, just a slight turn up of his lips and a wrinkle round his green
eyes but in that moment his personality changed

I only managed to keep a straight face myself by turning away to look at
the empty fireplace and gripping my slowly wakening cock and sticky balls a
little tighter.

`Yes Sir.  I suppose it should.'

He chucked a couple of cushions in the corner and told me I could sit on
them while he did first rounds to check the juniors were getting ready for
bed and I gingerly sat my sore backside down to await what might happen.
It surprised me that I received little attention from the other prefects as
they entered the room after their own rounds apart from a quick glance at
my body that felt more and more naked as each one came in.  I couldn't help
but notice how often they had to brush by past me to pick something or
other up, in several cases pushing a full crotch almost in my face as they
reached behind me.  By the time Paul and Andrew returned I'd become erect
again, this time with my cock jutting straight upward and only just
contained by the waistband of my shorts.