Date: Wed, 27 Sep 2006 16:58:42 -0400
From: Chris Johns <chris-johns@hotmail.com>
Subject: Treville Part 1

This series of stories is copyright to the author. You are welcome to
download for personal use but not for sale or profit.

The series is very homoerotic with detailed descriptions of sex between
consenting males age fifteen and above and lots of cp.  If this is not your
scene please leave this site NOW.

Also if you are underage to read this type of material or it is illegal in
your country please leave.


The Author of the first four parts of this series is Stephen. He has allowed
me to continue the series, but if you would like him to jump back in after
you have seen my efforts with 5,6and7 bombard him with emails. I would be
delighted because he is writing from a position of knowledge and mine is
pure imagination.

Email comments to him at  silenusawoken@yahoo.com


			 A Fictional Establishment
	   Treville Youth Correctional Training Camp, Tennessee
				 PART ONE

The large American pick-up truck had collected me from the bus station and I
had relaxed and taken in the countryside for the last hour as we drove down
inter-state and then country roads. I had let myself daydream, with the
excuse of being tired from the flight. The alternative was to try to engage
in conversation with the driver who had collected me; not that he seemed to
want to chat much, which was hardly surprising, given the noise from the
engine and the radio which made conversation near impossible.

Instead, I had pondered upon the strange set of circumstances that had
brought me to Tennessee, to work as an instructor and councillor, at an
American bible school camp, instead of the Camp-America gap-year job I had
originally planned. Already a few years older than most students starting at
university, I had quit my first year because I didn't like the course and
messed about, getting in with the wrong crowd, as my Dad put it. Still, he
had been able to pull a few strings and had wangled me a place at a
prestigious university for the following year, on the condition that I spent
the remainder of the time working at a responsible job. We had finally
agreed that it could be in America, at one of these summer camps that are so
popular in the States and, pulling more strings, he had persuaded my former
Headmaster to find a suitable establishment and write me a glowing
reference.

Quite what he had said to my former Headmaster I don't know, but it was only
as I boarded the plane that I actually got given the American school's
brochure and found out that it appeared to be run on military lines and was
a Christian fundamentalist school. Still, the die was cast and whether I had
planned it or not, I was determined to enjoy the experience and make the
most of being in America. Secretly, I quite enjoyed the prospect of being on
the staff of this camp which seemed to be run on a cross between a military
school and an English public school.

It was not difficult for me to revert to the speech and mannerisms of my
public school upbringing, and I had already experienced during my brief
journey from the airport to the bus-station the strange fascination that
American's have with this typical English accent. I could handle the
military aspect too, I thought. I had been in the CCF at my school, and had
spent four years playing soldiers every Thursday afternoon. We had even had
to do drill at my prep school, marching about and standing at attention, so
it was no big deal that this school appeared to be run on army camp lines.
Besides, I was to be on the staff, which meant I would be in authority - not
some cadet being told to polish his kit and run around at the double.

Now, after having driven a few miles down this smaller road, the camp came
into view. Well, at least the fence did. A high chain link fence, eight or
nine feet high, with a similar height gate, to which we were now rapidly
approaching. As we drew up, I read the notice on the gate: Treville YCT
Camp, Principal Rev. Henry L. Jackson, and noticed the fence was topped with
barbed wire and the gate was padlocked. My driver went over to the gate and
pressed a bell and waited, the intercom crackled and he spoke into it. A few
minutes later someone let us in and we drove up to the main school building.
As we approached two men came out of the main building and stood waiting.

We drew up and the men came over as I got out of the truck. The older man
put out his hand, "You must be Paul," he said. "I'm Rev. Jackson, the
Principal, and this is Kurt, one of our senior counsellors", he said
indicating his companion. We shook hands.

"Kurt will show you round and where to stow your kit; then when you've
freshened up we can have a talk at say 16.00 hours in my office," the Rev
Jackson said, and with that he turned and walked back into the main
building. I looked at Kurt; he looked very American to me with his blue
check cowboy shirt and jeans. Although he was probably only a year or two
older than me, he had the powerful build of a guy who works out a lot.

"I'll show you your bunk room" he said, and picking up my bag we set off
towards a row of wooden outhouses.

"We have three bunkhouses, Washington, Franklin and Jefferson, you have been
assigned to be the new instructor for Franklin," Kurt said, as we made our
way to the middle building. From the design, I guessed the bunkhouses were
ex-military buildings, or if not certainly modelled on them. We went through
a double set of twin doors and to my left was a large barrack type room.
Along each side of the room was a row of beds, much like my old school
dormitory, but larger and more military looking. I counted the beds, twelve
on each side, each with its blankets folded neatly at the foot. The end wall
consisted of lockers, two on top of each other at each end, reaching nearly
to the ceiling, and a long single row in the middle with a long mirror above
it. On my right I could see there was a shower room with hand basins, but I
caught no more than a glance before Kurt had unlocked a door in front of us
and said, "This is your room".

The room was surprisingly large and had a single wooden framed bed along one
wall, a wardrobe, desk and chair and, on the opposite wall was a window and
a door I realised led outside, to the back of the bunk-house. I placed my
bag on the bed and looked around. Kurt asked if I wanted to "wash-up", and
when I said I did, told me he would wait here.

I stepped out of my room and walked the few feet to the bunkhouse bathroom.
It reminded me of school. Facing me was a large communal shower room all
tiled and on the other wall a row of hand basins. On another wall were some
stalls, with the tiniest doors I had ever seen, and a long urinal. The doors
on the toilets were raised about 18 inches off the floor and extended in
height only about three-foot, so provided only minimal privacy, just as well
I only wanted a piss. As I stood at the urinal, I realised I was on full
display; both the shower room and the urinal on its side wall were in open
view to anyone in the bunkhouse looking that way.

I washed my hands and returned to my room. Kurt was sitting on the chair.

"Smallest doors I've ever seen in there" I said to break the ice.

"That's to stop 'em jacking-off in there" he replied, as if it was the most
natural explanation in the world.

"Catch any of the boys spanking the monkey and it's their asses that get the
spanking" he drawled.

"What do you mean", I asked. I wasn't sure I had understood what he was
saying.

"First thing you have to do is get acquainted with the rules Mister, just
like the boys here, if you are going to be their instructor", Kurt said, and
he picked up a brown book from the desk and passed it to me. "It's your
responsibility to maintain discipline and you are in change of this
bunkhouse, your word goes."

"You will find there is a rule against sexual misconduct and that includes
masturbating - catch any boy at it and you give him a paddling with this,"
he said, pointing to a large wooden paddle hanging on the wall. "I mean it""
he said, "masturbation is a sign of a weak will, and a fall into temptation.
It's all in the Conduct Book" he said, pointing to the book I was holding.

I looked around the room, and my eyes drifted back up to the paddle. Kurt
followed my gaze, and then reached out and took it down.

"Don't be afraid to give offenders a few good licks" he said swinging the
paddle. "A few pops on the butt soon gives 'em something else to think
about."

He went to a curtained window on the wall and drew back the curtain. The
window looked into the bunkroom.

"It's one-way, you can see in but they can't see you, there is also a night
vision cam linked to this TV he said, Channel 12," Kurt told me. ""You have
to maintain discipline at all times, as an Instructor, and that means at
night too."

"I suggest you shower and change and have a quick read through the Conduct
Book; then I'll be back and show you the camp and introduce you." Kurt said.
"I've got a few things to attend to, I won't be long; I think I got your
size right," and he pointed to a pile of neatly folded clothes on the bed
and left.

"Bloody hell," I thought. At my boarding school we all wanked furiously
after lights out and often held wanking competitions and played other games.
Clearly, they had a different attitude to masturbation here. I was glad that
as an instructor I had a room to myself; but that one-way mirror and the
night vision cam was ace.

I opened the Conduct Book and read through it searching for masturbation. At
the beginning was a long list of rules and regulations, each of which had a
number against it. These numbers referred to a further definition or
guidance in the subsequent pages. I found sexual misconduct and looked up
the definition. It was all very biblical and consisted of about two pages of
argument, supported by quotations that said any form of sex outside
marriage, including masturbation, was a sin. It gave a further reference to
the counselling section, and I looked that up too. This I saw was written in
more of a dialogue style and expanded more on why masturbation was wrong and
against both nature and God's will. Flicking through, I came to another
section that was about discipline and how the scriptures say that sinful or
rebellious child should be chastised. There was another section on general
conduct, dress code, personal hygiene, and at the end was the daily
timetable and physical attainment target chart. I decided I would read it
all later, after I had taken my shower.

On the bed was a towel, so I stripped off and wrapping it around me, headed
for the shower. The water was hot, and I soaped myself under the shower. It
felt strange standing naked looking into the bunkroom, and I thrilled at the
realisation of just how exposed someone showering was to the full view of
those in the dormitory. My cock was semi-hard from the soaping and warm
water when I heard the doors clattered and Kurt entered. He looked at me.

"I thought you would be ready by now," he said.

"Sorry", I replied, "I'll be right out", and I quickly rinsed off and
picking up my towel walked to my room. Kurt followed me inside and shut the
door. Kurt watched me as I towelled off.

"You ain't cut then Paul?" he said, looking at my still semi-hard cock.
"Most of the guys here are - we get a few who ain't, but most of those get
it done while they are here" he added.

I could feel myself start to rise and looked round for my pants.

"Better put your kit on" Kurt said and indicated the pile of folded clothes.

I put them on the bed and separated them. Under the Instructor T-shirt were
some tracksuit bottoms and a jockstrap. I made haste to put it on before I
got a full blown boner, just managing it, though the jock pouch bulged
obscenely.

"I forgot to show you this" Kurt said, and went over to a small cupboard on
the wall opposite the bed. He unlocked it with a key and opened the door.
Inside was a board with a row of 24 little light bulbs each numbered. "This
shows you if anyone is jacking off in bed" he said.

"What" I said, "you must be kidding."

"Nope; it's dead simple  but, it's a secret. The beds rock real easy and
when they do they complete a circuit that lights the bulb - any light
flashing on and off at night and you can bet the owner is beating off" he
said.

"I'll show you" he said, and switching it on walked into the dorm and got on
a bed. The light numbered 4 had flashed on and off a few times as Kurt sat
down, but as he lay still it went out. A minute later it began flashing
rhythmically on and off, and looking through the window I could see Kurt
moving his fist gently up and down as he lay on the bed.

"Did you get that" he called out.

"Yeah, I did" I replied.

Kurt came back to my room. "Be sure you keep the cupboard locked and only
open it when the boys are in bed", he said, "As I told you, it's very
simple, but they don't know we can monitor them in this way and it's better
they don't find out."

"Some boys are addicted to masturbation when they first arrive" he said, "it
can take a while before they get it under control; it's best to just catch
them at it a few times and paddle them hard, then ease off on them a bit if
they respond." Kurt said.

I was taken aback, but then I thought it all fitted; the minimal privacy,
the light-board in the cupboard. I had seen the entry for masturbation in
the conduct book, and realised that they regarded it as a sin in religious
terms, rather than the normal activity it had been at my school.

"I can see I've got a lot to learn", I answered.

"Yeah", Kurt replied, "but this bunch of cadets ain't too bad, and I'll be
supporting you for the first few days. Rev Jackson wants you to get up to
speed as soon as possible", he added. "Get dressed, it's nearly time for
activities, you can meet everyone,"" he said.

I quickly finished dressing and followed Kurt out into the bright sunshine.
We stood by the bunkhouse door and Kurt looked at his watch.

"The main thing is, they gotta respect you" he said. "Don't show signs of
weakness or favouritism, and stick to the rules and yarl be fine" he
drawled.

A bell sounded in the distance and a few minutes later a bunch of teenage
guys wearing the camp sweatshirts came running up.

"Franklin, parade!" Kurt shouted. The lads quickly formed two straight rows
and stood at attention. I was well impressed. "At ease, troop" Kurt said,
and the boys relaxed a bit. ""This is Mr Marsden, from England, he is your
new instructor. I want you to show him just how well you boys perform, you
got that?" Kurt shouted.

"Huah", the lads shouted back.

"Try to take advantage of him being new, and he'll come down hard on you; me
too, I'll match every pop he gives you with one from me. You got that
Franklin?"

"Huah", the lads shouted back.

"OK, troop, call out your name and where you are from; from the left", Kurt
told them. One by one the boys called out their names and their home city
and state. I looked at each lad as they called their name, and tried to
mentally place the name with the face. About three quarters were white, and
all the boys had short hair, and about half very short crew-cuts. Apart from
the fact that they were all young, from about 15-17, I judged, they were a
pretty mixed bunch, and from all over the country.

At the end of the roll call, I said a few words about being pleased to be
here and how I expected a lot from them, and how they would find me firm but
fair. What I had said was almost word for word what my old housemaster at
school had said to us at the start of each year, for the benefit of the new
boys. It made me appreciate the value of my boarding school education.

"OK, troop," Kurt called, "Go and get changed, at the double."

The boys ran past us into the bunkhouse and we followed them in. They were
starting to undress, and I stood next to Kurt, by my door, watching. I was
surprised to see that all the boys stripped totally naked, before folding
their clothes neatly and then taking another set of clothes from their
bedside locker and putting them on the bed, before transferring the other
clothes to the locker. Since each locker was on the far side of their bed to
me, most of the boys were facing me or in profile and I found myself staring
at twenty four naked American teenage boys donning their jockstraps.

Kurt shouted at them to hurry-up, and said the last changed would get his
butt whacked.

The boys rushed to change and in less than a minute most were dressed and
standing at attention at the foot of their beds. The last two or three were
rushing to finish. The last boy skidded to attention by his bed.

"Not good enough Cadet Williams,"" Kurt said. "What did I say would happen
to the last cadet changed, boy?" Kurt asked.

"He would get his butt whacked, Sir", the lad shouted.

"Did you hear and understand me, Cadet Williams," Kurt asked the boy.

"Yes, Sir", he replied.

"Then do you want me to paddle yer butt for being last, or have I got to
teach you to hear and understand me as well?" Kurt asked the lad.

"No Sir", "I mean yes, Sir", the lad answered. Kurt looked at him hard.
"Please paddle my butt, for being last, Sir" the boy said.


"Mister Marsden, will you bring your paddle", Kurt said, looking at me. I
nodded, and turned and walked to my room. I unhooked the paddle from the
wall, and looked at it feeling its weight in my hand. It was paddle shaped
and about six inches wide at its widest part, and about half an inch thick,
and despite having two rows of holes drilled though it, was surprisingly
heavy.

When I returned, the young cadet was standing by the lockers at the end of
the bunkhouse, facing the mirror. He was wearing sports kit consisting of a
dark blue singlet with the letters TYCTC on the front and yellow shorts.
Kurt told him to drop his shorts and lean over the lockers. I could see his
shorts tight across his butt, before he pulled them down and let them drop.
Kurt told him to step out of them and lean over, spreading his legs. Kurt
took the paddle from me. The other boys were all standing at attention by
the foot of their beds, but their eyes were upon the cadet about to be
punished, watching him, and he could see them reflected in the mirror on the
wall above the lockers.

Kurt walked up to the boy. "Two from me, and two from Instructor Marsden;
count them out," he said, then stepping back he raised the paddle high.

Crack! The paddle had descended fast with a whish, but that had been totally
surpassed by the loud report of it hitting the boy's rear end. Wow, that
must have hurt I thought, the boy had jumped forward.

"One, thank you Sir" he called out, Kurt lifted the paddle again and brought
it swinging through the air to land with another loud crack upon the lad's
other butt cheek. "Two, thank you Sir," the boy sang out, and I could hear
the strain in his voice as he tried to keep his composure.

Now Kurt was telling him to spread his legs wider. Kurt took a minute
rearranging the boy, and pulled the jock back-straps further to the sides,
then told him to stick his butt out further.

"Mister Marsden, will you be so good as to punish this cadet in the same
manner", Kurt said to me, handing me the paddle.

I realised I was going to be judged by the troop, and that despite any
qualms I might have, I had to exert my authority and not run the risk of
being thought easy-going. Both the boy's arse cheeks had now turned a deep
pink from Kurt's spanking, and the white back-straps of his jock seemed only
to emphasise the fact.

I raised the paddle as high as Kurt had and swung fast, as he had. The
paddle glided through the air far easier than I had expected; the holes in
it greatly reducing the air resistance, and I realised my stroke was harder
than Kurt's. It struck the boy's butt with a frighteningly loud report. I
could see the lad's face in the mirror, eyes clenched tight, as he fought
back the pain, before he opened them. He looked quite cute in his short
crew-cut and I judged him to be about sixteen.

"Three, thank you Sir", he called out, his voice trembling. I shifted
position slightly and took aim. Kurt looked at me. I could tell he was
assessing me, and that if I went easy on the boy I would lose his respect,
and probably that of the troop as well. I raised the paddle again and
brought it down hard and fast. It exploded on the cadet's rear-end with
another loud report and he rocked forward onto the lockers with the impact.
A moment passed before the boy said in a faltering voice "Four, thank you
Sir".

"All right boys, basketball," Kurt said, clapping his hands; "You too,
Williams".

I watched the lad step back and slowly bend down and pull up his bright
yellow shorts. His butt was a deep red and I could almost feel the heat
radiating from his well spanked arse.

"Get a move on," Kurt shouted to him, "or you'll get another two pops."

Despite his obvious discomfort, the boy ran out of the bunkhouse at top
speed. Kurt looked at me, "You'll do OK Paul," he said to me; "You need to
let them know you are in charge and won't take any shit from the start," and
with that he ran out. I returned the paddle to my room and ran hard to catch
up with the troop.

The basketball court was about a hundred yards away and when we arrived the
boys were warming up. Kurt blew his whistle and after the boys had taken
their positions, the game started. It was pretty exciting and the boys
played well. Just into the second half there was a minor scrap between two
lads and Kurt blew his whistle, and called their names, before starting the
game again. At the end of the game, the boys lined up before being dismissed
and running back to the bunkhouse.

Kurt and I jogged back to find the boys lined up waiting outside the
bunkhouse.

"OK, troop. Go hit the showers. Cadets Brown and Peterson, stay by your
beds"", Kurt shouted.

The cadets rushed in, and we followed them. Now, they were stripping naked
by their bunks and rushing past us to hit the showers. As they did so, I
couldn't but notice that about half the lads had shaved pubes. When all but
the two lads who had been told to stand by their bunks were in the showers,
Kurt told the two boys to strip to their jocks and then ordered them to
stand by their beds. Kurt waited for five minutes before ordering the lads
to get over to the lockers and bend over facing the mirror.

"Would you kindly fetch the paddle, Mister Marsden", Kurt said to me, "and
call the troop to parade to witness punishment."

I went to my room and again picked the paddle from the wall. Leaving, I
called to the boys.

"In the bunkhouse to witness punishment; now!"

The lads ran out quickly; twenty two wet and naked lads. I looked at them,
their wet hair and the water dripping off them.

"One line" Kurt shouted, and the boys moved into a semicircle, squashed
close to each other in the restricted space. "OK troop, stand at ease. I am
going to have to discipline Brown and Peterson for fighting during the
game", Kurt said.

I looked at the boys about to be punished. They were both leaning over the
lockers, about a yard apart facing the mirror, and in it above them, I could
see the reflection of the other boys, called to witness it. I turned and
looked at them. Bunched close together, in the at ease position, with hands
held behind their backs. I could see that more than half of the boys had no
pubes and virtually all were circumcised. I could also see that a lot of the
lads were semi erect, though none were sporting a real hard-on - yet. Yet,
looked to be the operative word, because as I looked at these lads, I
noticed several of the boy's cocks start to grow and harden as they stared
at the boys about to be punished. The two boys were leaning over the lockers
clad only in their jockstraps, their arses pushed out as if begging to be
beaten.

Kurt motioned to me and I went over and gave him the paddle. He walked over
to the first boy and roughly pulled the waist band of the lad's jock higher.
He did the same to the other boy; then, pushed both lads forward and down,
telling them to spread their legs wider. It looked as if they were trying to
hump the lockers. Stepping back, he raised the paddle and brought it down
hard on the first boy's arse. "Crack!" the sound echoed round the bunkhouse.
Again he lifted the paddle and brought it down equally hard and fast.
Another loud report broke the silence as the wooden paddle hit the lad's
butt. Then he had moved on to the other boy and gave him two equally hard
smacks with the paddle.

"The same again", Kurt said handing me the paddle. I looked at the first
boy, his arse already red and framed by the white elastic straps of his
jock. I took aim and swung the paddle, bringing it down hard across both
cheeks. It made a loud whack and I could see his arse had turned even
redder. I lifted the paddle and delivered another good stinger on the boy's
tender rear-end. I walked to the other boy and looked at his already
reddened arse. Standing to the side next to him, I saw he had lifted himself
off the lockers a bit, and from the bulging jock pouch that he must be hard.
I looked in the mirror, and saw that many of the lads watching now had
boners, much to their obvious discomfort and embarrassment. I rested the
paddle on the boy's arse then adopted a golfing stance. Lifting the paddle
high, I brought it down hard. It struck the boy's backside with a load
"Crack!" and he shot forward. Once more I lifted the paddle and this time
brought it down even faster. The boy's butt turned a deeper shade of red
under my gaze.

Kurt turned. "Attention!" he shouted, and the troop jumped to obey. A lot of
the lads were sporting full-on erections now, their hard young cocks
pointing skyward. I noticed, Williams, the lad we had paddled earlier was
one. Kurt walked down the line. The boys stared straight ahead as he gazed
down at their cocks, saying to each boy with a hard-on, "cold shower". When
he had finished he called out to the recently punished boys,

"You two, take a cold shower, too. Now, move it".

Kurt and I stood outside my door. We could see those lads in the bunkhouse
getting dressed while to our left were the lads showering. Kurt made the
lads stay under the showers till all the lads cocks had shrivelled up under
the deluge of cold water before telling them to go and get dressed. The boys
were leaving now, they had a recreation period , Kurt told me and we had
about half an hour before I was to have my meeting with Rev Jackson, the
Principal.

"Let's go in your room," Kurt said, "we can talk some more."

I unlocked my door and he followed me in, Kurt sitting on the chair, while I
sat on the bed.

"I expect you think I'm a bit hard on them but it's the best way," he said
to me.

I remembered my time at boarding school, corporal punishment was common and
being a prefect, I had even slippered boys myself, sometimes bare arsed in
the dorms, but I had never paddled a lad before.

"Those lads we paddled sure had red arsed when they went for their shower,"
I said to Kurt.

"That ain't nothing," he replied, ""four pops is just to keep them on their
toes. If a cadet seriously gets out of line you give 'em six or eight, or
maybe ten; that's the maximum you are allowed to give without referral to Mr
Jackson."

I could hardly believe my ears, but decided to play it cool. "Yeah, six of
the best was pretty standard punishment at my school," I told him, "though
it was the cane we had, rather than a paddle," I added, not saying that only
the head or housemaster had wielded it.

"Yeah, I heard you use a cane in England," Kurt said. "We had a Canadian guy
teaching here last fall, and he brought his own cane; he preferred that, or
a strap, to a paddle." "I think it's in the store cupboard in the gym," he
added, "but I prefer the good old American way," he said grinning at me.

"So, are the cadets always paddled bare except for a jock?" I asked him.

"During class they get spanked in their jocks. Other times, if it's a formal
punishment, it's naked" he replied. "It adds to the humiliation, and makes
them realise they are still just kids." "That's why some get their pubes
shaved; to make them realise how very immature they've been", Kurt added.

I had wondered why so many of the lads had their pubes shaved, now I knew.
"So, what merits a punishment like that" I asked.

"What, the formal punishment or the shaving?" Kurt asked me.

"Both", I replied.

"Anything like stealing, disrespect to authority, breaking the school's
rules, that kinda thing is dealt with as a formal punishment. Shaving their
pubes off is unofficial," said Kurt. "If it's something childish, but
against the rules, we sometimes let the kid off with a few licks in the
bunkhouse," Kurt said, waving the paddle he still held in his hand, "and
shave their pubes off to remind them to grow-up" he added.

"What have those lads been shaved for," I asked.

"Masturbating", Kurt replied in a mater of fact voice. "A lot of them do it,
especially when they first arrive," Kurt said. "Sometimes, you have to wean
them off it, like drugs," he said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, they get punished of course", Kurt said,
"but officially they should be monitored more closely - but, between you and
me, some cadets find it really hard and so I let em beat-off if I think they
have earned it" he replied.

"But, if I catch them jacking-off any other time, they are for it" he said
earnestly.

I was rock hard and thankful I was wearing the jockstrap. I hoped the bulge
was not too apparent.

"What then," I asked.

"I either report it to Rev Jackson who will treat them or I will try to cure
them myself" Kurt said.

"How's that?" I asked.

"Rev Jackson calls in the school's doctor, and the cadet has to get
treatment, it's often a skin irritation if the guy's not cut.  The doctor
circumcises them while he's here it only takes about ten minutes," Kurt told
me. "Otherwise it's just a bad habit that's difficult to break, but in
either case a lot of cadets are real embarrassed and ask if I can help them
rather than being sent to see Mr Jackson."

"What do you do", I asked him.

"Make sure they wash well if they're not cut; ration their masturbation and
allow them to jack-off maybe once a week to begin with," Kurt replied. "They
get spanked before and after and have to just jack-off real quick," Kurt
continued, "but it makes more sense than them masturbating in their bunk at
night and maybe encouraging the other cadets."

"Sounds sensible," I replied. I could see the strange logic of his argument,
though I had never encountered such a strong anti-masturbation attitude. I
had not realised just how deeply held was the view it was a sin amongst
these Southern Christian fundamentalists but, if I was to fit in, I realised
that I had better adopt the same attitude.

"We had better go see Rev Jackson, now," Kurt said, and we left the
bunkhouse.

Rev Jackson's office was situated in the main building, and I was ushered
it. Behind a desk sat the Rev Jackson, but he stood to shake my hand.

"Glad to have you on board, Mr Marsden" he said. "You will find we run a
tight ship here, but we achieve excellent results. Many of the cadets that
come to us are at risk of becoming delinquent; a sad sign of the times, I am
afraid" he sighed. "But with God's help we can turn them around and set them
straight; teach them to respect their parents and authority, and to lead
upright and Christian lives" he said.

"Have you read the Conduct Book?" he asked me. I told him I had, but that I
intended to study it again later.

"The school is run on strict discipline Mr Marsden," he explained, "make
sure you are fully familiar with the rules."

"Yes Sir," I replied.

"I see you were a prefect at your English school, in charge of the other
boys," he continued.

"That is correct, Sir" I told him.

"Well, I'm sure you will do just fine, your former Headmaster spoke very
highly of you in his reference. Tomorrow we have a new cadet join us, and we
are assigning him to Franklin. His name is Joe Regan, and he is nineteen, so
see Kurt and he will tell you what to do."

"Very good Sir," I said, and with that I was dismissed.

I went to find Kurt. The cadets were still on their recreation period, a
forty minute break before supper, after which they had to clean their kit. I
asked one of the cadets if he had seen Kurt and he said he thought he was in
the gym, pointing to another wooden building. I walked over and entered.
Kurt was rummaging in a store cupboard as I entered, and I walked over to
him.

"Ah here we are," he said, holding a cane. "I thought it was in here." Kurt
swished it through the air a couple of times then passed it to me.

"The Canadian guy, who was here, had it sent over. He preferred it. "He said
the Bible says don't spare the rod. He used to punish cadets with it in
here. You can have it if you like," he said, passing it to me.

I took hold of the cane and flexed it. It bent easily and I was surprised
how supple it was. It was both longer and thicker than the canes at my old
school. I judged it was about half an inch in diameter and over three feet
long. I swiped the air as if to strike an imaginary arse and it whistled and
hissed through the air.

"Thanks," I said, "I'll keep it in here though for now," and placed it back
in the cupboard.

"What now?" I asked Kurt.

He looked at his watch. "It'll be supper time soon," he said. I followed him
out of the gym and we walked over to the mess hall, as he called it, which
was already filling up. It was self-service, and Kurt and I walked to the
front of the line and collected our meal. We ate the same as the boys, a big
bowl of soup, cheeseburger, fries and a coke.

After our meal, Kurt said we should go back to my room and he would tell me
more about the camp and my responsibilities as an instructor. Settled on my
bunk once more, I looked through the Conduct book and Kurt asked if I had
any questions. I didn''t really the rules were all spelt out in detail in
the book. I did have one question though, I was wondering how Kurt managed
to confront boys about masturbating in bed without revealing the secret of
the indicator board or the secret cam. I raised this question with him.

"That's easy," he told me. "The boys have to wear old-fashioned drawers in
bed. They have no flies, so they can't masturbate in them. Catch any boy
with them down and he's obviously beating his meat," Kurt told me. "If you
see the lights flashing, go out and switch the lights on. Tell them it's an
inspection and to put their hands above their heads, then pull the bed
clothes back," he said.

I was astonished, but at the same time impressed. They had thought of
everything.

"How often do you do that," I asked.

"Most nights, we can do one together tonight, so that you know the drill,"
Kurt replied.

The rest of that evening was passed watching TV in the common room before it
was nine forty-five and time for kit inspection then lights-out. The cadets
assembled in the bunkhouse for kit inspection and stood by their bunks. All
their belongings from their locker were arranged neatly on their bed and
Kurt and I walked down the line inspecting them. Their belongings looked
pitifully few, a wash-kit, towel, PE kit, a few letters or photos from home.
All their personal belongings had been bagged up when they arrived, and now
they wore only the kit they were issued. Each item of clothing had a large
label, about three inches square, sown on it, bearing the cadet''s number
which had to be prominently displayed. I watched Kurt inspect the items,
telling some boys they were not folded correctly or otherwise finding fault
with them, and those boys were told to stand at the end of their bunks. I
copied Kurt and walked down the line, stopping at Cadet Williams bunk and
stared critically at the clothes on the bed in front of me. I picked up the
drawers that Kurt had told me the boys slept in and held it up. It was knee
length and had no fly, as Kurt had said, and round the high waist it had two
draw-strings about four inches apart. The label that bore the cadet's number
was on the inside, at the front, and when I looked at the number I could see
why Cadet Williams had not had it displayed as required; across the label
was a large, and very obvious, semen stain.

I looked at the cadet, "These fail inspection, Mister," I told him, "stand
at the end of your bed." The cadet walked to the end of his bed and stood
there, and I carried on with my inspection. When Kurt and I had finished six
boys were standing at the end of their beds. Kurt ordered them up, one at a
time, and told the boy to drop his drill-trousers and bend over the lockers.
Then Kurt and I each gave the lad two hard pops with the paddle on their
jockstrapped young arses, and they counted them out.

When Williams came up and bent over the lockers, I thrilled to see that his
arse was still showed the flush from the spanking we had administered at
lunchtime. I could feel my cock harden as  Kurt spanked his arse once more,
returning it to a glowing red colour before passing the paddle to me. I gave
Williams two good whacks and was rewarded by a loud gasp after the first
whack and a stifled cry after the second. His butt was bright red as he bent
down and pulled up his trousers and as he turned and marched, somewhat
awkwardly back to his bunk, I could see the tears in his eyes. Peterson was
the last boy to be called up, and I realised that Kurt had deliberately
called the boys up so that Williams and Peterson would be punished last.

Peterson was one of the boys who had been paddled for fighting at
basketball, and when he dropped his shorts his butt showed the marks of his
earlier spanking even more clearly. Kurt took his time arranging the lad,
making him stretch his legs further apart and really push his butt out, then
he gave him two real good licks, before passing me the paddle. I ran my hand
over his bum cheeks, ostensibly to push his jock back-straps aside, and
could feel the heat. I rearranged the lad, spreading his legs wider and
pulling the waist band of his jockstrap up high before making him lean right
forward over the lockers, so that he was leaning on his nuts with his red
arse pushed out, then gave his butt another two hard whacks. Even over the
loud reports of the paddle striking his butt I heard him gasp. Positioned,
as he was, each stinging blow to his arse caused him to ram forward,
squashing his balls hard against the edge of wooden lockers. It wasn't just
Peterson's rear end that would be sore and aching that night.

Inspection over, it was time for the boys to quickly wash-up and get into
bed before lights out at ten o' clock. A few minutes later the boys were
brushing their teeth. Before the cadets got into bed, Kurt showed me how to
check that the ties on their drawers were tied tight and properly knotted.
The two long sets of taper laces, one above the other, were first knotted at
the front, then passed through a loop at the back of the drawers, before
being brought to the front and tied again. Clearly, it would take quite a
few minutes to unfasten, and putting them back on in the dark would be
extremely difficult. After our inspection, Kurt read out a prayer and
switched out the lights.

We sat on the bunk in my room, and Kurt asked me what I had thought of my
first day at the school. I said it was good to see such a smart bunch of
young students and that I could see what a difference firm discipline made.
Kurt nodded, and appeared pleased by my reply. After a few minutes Kurt
switched off the light and we looked through the one way mirror into the
boy's dormitory; all was quite and, in the soft glow of the red nightlight,
all the boys lay still in their bunks. Kurt unlocked the cupboard and I
looked again at the lights that indicated if a boy was wanking. Occasionally
a light would flicker as a boy turned over or shifted position, but they
soon went out again. Kurt handed me a small walky-talky.

"I''m gonna hit the sack now, but if you see a light flashing for more than
a couple of minutes buzz me and you can see how we do a night bunk
inspection," he said, and with that he bade me goodnight and left.

Alone now I lay on my bunk and my mind replayed the events of the day; the
thoughts made my cock rock hard. I had spanked seven teenage boy's butts
today, two of the lads I had spanked twice. I looked up at the paddle
hanging on the wall, recalling that Kurt had said that six to eight pops was
the norm for more serious misdemeanours. At this rate it wouldn't be long
before one of these lads would be bent over the lockers, offering up his
jockstrapped young arse for more serious punishment. The prospect of
administering six or eight whacks was too much and I began wanking my cock
at the thought. Just then I noticed one of the light bulbs winking on and
off. I ceased my own wanking and watched the rhythmically flashing bulb,
soon it was joined by another, and then another. Three bulbs were now
flashing on and off. I read the numbers against the bulbs and consulted the
typed list of names and bunk numbers. Williams and Peterson were both at it,
as were a couple of the other lads.

I wondered whether to buzz Kurt on the walky-talky, but decided to wait.
After all Kurt had said give it a few minutes. Instead I switched on the TV,
turning the volume down, and switched to Channel 12. Although the picture
was only black and white, the quality was remarkable; it was as clear as
day. I could probably see better what was going on than could the boy in the
next bunk. As I watched, I saw another light start to flicker. Quickly I
pulled on my trousers and sweat shirt then buzzed Kurt. Williams light was
now flashing rapidly and I could distinctly see the tented blanket on his
bed shaking as he wanked furiously under the bedclothes. Just then I heard
the bunkhouse doors crash open and the TV screen went blank as Kurt switched
on the main lights and swamping out the night vision camera.

I closed the cupboard and switched channels on the TV before opening my door
and joining him in the dorm.

"Night inspection, hands on your heads, now," he called out.

As I watched, he walked down one side of the dormitory pulling back the
bedclothes from each bed in turn, and I followed his cue, taking the other
side, pulling back the bedclothes just as he did. It was immediately
apparent which boys had decided to risk masturbating from the fact that
their drawers were untied and pulled down. I happened to be inspecting the
side of the dorm Williams bunk was on, and as I pulled his sheet back I
could see a big pool of spunk on his chest he had obviously shot his load
just as Kurt had burst in. Kurt took out a notebook and wrote down the names
of the boys caught.
"You boys will report to Rev Jackson after lunch tomorrow." he said.

I could see the look of fear on their faces, and Williams looked in near
panic. I went over to Kurt and whispered in his ear. He nodded and then tore
the page from his notebook and handed it to me.

"Amend that, you will report to Mr Marsden in the gym tomorrow after the
afternoon activities," he said. "Now go to sleep all of you," and with that
he strode out, leaving me to switch the lights out.

I walked to the end of the dorm, then looking at the piece of paper I called
out the names. "You boys in my room at the double," I said switching off the
light. A few minutes later my room was filled by five young cadets, and I
closed the door.

"All right Gentlemen," I said, "I rather suspect that you were none too
pleased by the prospect of seeing the Rev Jackson, am I correct?"

I was greeted by a chorus of "Yes Sir" and "No Sir," and had to call for
silence.

"Am I right in thinking you would rather that I punish you?" I asked.

This time there was no confusion, and there was a shout of "Yes Sir" from
the group.

"Very well," I said, "I will do so, but since you will be punished for
masturbating you had better make it worth while jerk off now, all of you and
you had better produce a good load, catch it in your hand, you have three
minutes," I said. "Call out your name when you cum last boy to cum gets
double punishment," I added.

Never had I seen such furious wanking. These cadets were certainly drilled
to obey commands. Peterson was the first to cum, spurting such a powerful
jet there was no way he could catch it in his hand and it arced through the
air to splatter on the floor several feet away. His cock continued pumping,
however, and he caught most of the rest in his left hand. Williams, on the
other hand was obviously having difficulty getting hard. The sight of the
other boys wanking soon had its effect and by the time the second boy had
cum he had a strong hard-on, and was wanking his cock for all he was worth,
but he could not catch up. The other two lads came together, catching their
jizz in their free hand as I had told them. I looked at my watch and called
time.

"Let's see what you've produced then boys," I said, and walked down the
line. Four boys opened their hands for me to inspect. Each of them had shot
a good load and the smell of semen was heavy in the room. Williams, however,
had not come and his still hard cock was starting to droop slightly.

"OK, boys, lick your hands clean then show me," I said.

There was a moment's pause, then Peterson put his hand to his mouth and
drank his spunk and licked his hand clean, and the others followed suit,
holding their palms up to me so that I could see they had been licked clean.
"OK, boys you are dismissed, get back to bed. Williams remain here," I said.

When the others had left, Williams looked at me quizzically.
"Get on the bed Williams," I said, "if you can jack-off and produce a good
load, I'll forget the double punishment, but I'll hold your balls as you
jack-off and the longer you take to come the harder I'll squeeze them," I
told him.

"Get on the bed, and spread your legs,"

Williams got on my bed and spread his legs wide, and I sat on the chair took
his balls in my left hand. Nice balls I thought, as I weighed them in my
hand, separating each nut, so that I could squeeze one bollock in the top
half of my hand and the other bollock in the bottom half of my hand. As I
tightened my grip, I was rewarded by the sight of his cock visibly harden
and a drop of pre-cum ooze from his knob-end.

Williams began to jack-off, as any un-circumcised boy does, gripping his
shaft tight in his fist and beating his meat, so as to pull his foreskin
back and forth over his knob with each stroke. After a few strokes I pulled
down on his ball sac taking in the slack skin on his shaft, keeping his
foreskin held back tight. Now, without the stimulation of his foreskin he
would take longer to cum, and I tightened my grip on his balls, squeezing
first one, then the other.

Williams was rock hard and wanking desperately, and I could tell from his
heavy breathing that he was well turned on, but he had shot his load earlier
in his bunk and now with his foreskin held back he was going to have to work
hard to cum again. I gripped his nuts tighter pressing the balls of my
fingers into his juicy globes. It gave me a tremendous thrill to feel them
being squashed in my hand and hear him gasp as my fingers and thumb pressed
hard into his balls.

"The longer you take to cum, the harder I'm gonna squeeze you," I reminded
him.

Williams let out a low groan and I squeezed harder. I could see the pre-cum
dribbling from his rampant cock. I looked at my bedside clock; how long
would he take to come I wondered? The minutes ticked by. The skin on his
shaft was so tightly stretched he was doing little more than shaking his
cock with his hand. I varied the squeezing; sometimes concentrating on one
ball then the other, sometimes squeezing both balls at the same time, but
always keeping his balls stretched tight. I could feel Williams body start
to tense and knew that finally he was about to come. Now I gripped his balls
even tighter and as I did so he shot a great string of spunk high into the
air. As the second spasm caught him and he squirted his spunk again I really
squeezed him hard and held his balls in my tight fist until the last spasms
had passed.

His whole body was shaking and he was drenched in sweat, as well as spunk.
For a boy who had come barely fifteen minutes earlier he had certainly shot
a lot. I handed him some tissues. "Clean yourself up and get back to bed," I
told him.

What an interesting first day!


Part 2 in a couple od days, but just to remind you:-

This is the first of four chapters written by Stephen. He has allowed me to
continue the story from Chapter 5. Any comments on this to him at
silenusawoken@yahoo.com