DISCLAIMER:
While key aspects of this story are based on true events, the most graphic portions of it are complete fiction. It describes vivid sadomasochistic sexual activities between boys and adult male individuals. All true events had explicit consent of all parties involved and took place in a locality where the age of consent was 16. Please stop reading if you are underaged or if such materials offend you or if it's illegal to read such materials in the locality you live in.
Chapter 1
It's hard to decide which period in my life was most exhilarating, my first few years into my newfound discovery of thick oaty jets shooting off the lips of my pee hole or a couple of years later when serendipitous events exceeded my wildest dreams.
The beginnings of the former started when I was twelve. At the time I vaguely knew what sex was. But by fourteen it was fairly clear. My sex-ed began with a handful of boys relaying second or third hand information of what happens, in whispers intermingled with giggles. Of course none of them actually had experienced any of it. But on the other hand, long before, at twelve, surprisingly even without any erection, I'd had my first dry orgasm. Dry... not even a drop of precum! My shyness held me back from bragging about what it actually felt like. Those teens in that group only had their imagination to rely on. Then a couple of years, the scent of my white globs amidst a splatter of precum... those first few years ... Gosh! It drives me nuts just thinking about it. It can best be compared to a new car smell. They'd never get it. Even right now there've been just a handful of occasions when I've had sudden whiffs and relived those moments. Completely out of the blue, like walking in the park. Couldn't even jack off there. As I said, just like the new car smell, it lasted only for the first few years of my puberty. After that, it took on a different scent.
My fetish finds its roots in my mental state that eventually led to those dry orgasms. My home, like many others nearby, was part of a relatively new town. This town was built on reclaimed land that previously served as a cemetery. Although a lot of work was done to respectfully relocate remains, every so often during construction they'd uncover a new skeleton. Stories of ghosts terrorizing kids were abound. Most of these stories were probably fabricated by my older brother and his devious friends. But that didn't take away the dread of an approaching night.
From the light switch to my bed, there was no looking into mirrors, windows, closets or any dark places... I'd just jump into bed, shut my eyes and pull my blanket over.
Then I'd let my imagination lead me to a large room with around two dozen similar aged boys from my school, standing in a semicircle, eagerly waiting to witness the punishment that was to be meted out to the skinny kid in the center of the room. That skinny kid would be me. Funny, I never saw the face of any of those individuals who'd torment me. I'd done something that was considered unacceptable at school, something like swinging my fist at someone. I'd felt tremendous remorse for what I'd done. On being asked what punishment would fit my crime, I had proffered this one. I'd be fully clothed. The first order for me was to turn around and bend over and touch my toes. I'd then feel the sting of a paddle on my arse cheeks. Usually at least ten.
Next I'd be ordered to stand up, turn around and take off all my clothes, which I'd do one piece of cloth at a time, quietly eyeing those who were reveling in my indignities. I'd always drop my underwear last. Once it had been determined that everyone had had a good look at my exposed privates, I'd be turned around and forced to lie face down on an exercise mat.
From the corner of my eyes, I'd see all the boys come closer and surrounding me. One of those boys would be asked to give whatever number came to mind. He'd eagerly spit out a number, like 8. I'd plead and beg the teacher and boy to reduce the number, promising them that I'd be a good boy going forward. But that number would stick.
What followed was an improvised version of a story that I had overheard two teachers discussing in the staff room. I was barely out of their sight, but I could hear them discussing a 17 year old boy who had poked sewing needles into the soles of his feet to cope with stress and how his mother had been horrified to see blood stains in his bed the following morning. I didn't hear much of that psychologically impaired boy, but that little bit made its way into my lucid dreams every night.
Only in my version, I was pinned down by 3 boys and the boy who provided the number, would be handed a box of pins. His evil grin would meet my pleading eyes and I'd try to thrash around my legs, but to no avail. I knew they wouldn't be normal pins. They were coated with some antiseptic that had the same effect of a bee sting. It would start with a prick on one of my arse cheeks, then pressure and then the horrible smarting. I'd scream then plead, but the evil eyed boy would keep pushing the whole inch of the pin down until its head was firmly stuck inside. It was intentionally carried out as slowly as possible to maximize my agony. Gradually the burning would subside and so would my groans. But not for long. The whole process would then begin all over again on the alternate cheek. So it would continue until my arse cheeks were studded with eight silver pin heads. Then, another boy would be asked if I'd had enough punishment. He'd of course say no, wanting to see more pleasure in the suffering of my naked body. A new count would be shouted out...
At this point, my arse cheeks would be super tightly clamped together and every piercing would cause me to dig in my groin deeper and deeper into the exercise mat. Some nights I'd drift off to sleep. But other nights there would be a prolonged session of more than fifty pins. My arse cheeks would be literally glittering with all the pinheads. The extreme strain on my arse and groin muscles had to find a way out.
One night I found the whole stretch from my hole to the head of my dick convulse from inside. I'd had more than fifteen spasms, each a bit less intense than the previous. The first time this happened, I literally jumped and flipped over to my back, the shuddering still continuing on its course to completion. I thought I'd broken something inside me. The images of being hauled to a hospital scared me so much that it kept me up for a while. But strangely I also felt serenity in the moment. As soon as I woke up the following morning I opened my eyes to dread. But rolling my hand over my groin revealed nothing abnormal. No pain whatsoever.
I might have paused the nightly torture for a week or so allowing my thoughts to dwell on what had just happened. But then I gradually slipped into my old night-time routine. The second dry orgasm might have happened a few weeks later. By then I'd guessed what might be going on. I'd already been given the bees and birds treatment. I settled into the thought that this was how bees felt while pollinating those bird eggs. This continued off and on interspersed by dry orgasms for a couple of years and eventually I substituted my nightly activity with wet masturbations. However, the first time I spilled cum was not at night. One afternoon, I had felt crazy urges to rub my foreskin back and forth over my dick head. The sudden eruption caught me by surprise. My pee hole shot cum all over my bed sheet and left me with lot of damage control to prevent being found out by my mother, or worse my brother.
The months that followed my first masturbation revealed three things about me to myself. First, I realized that I was comfortably in the middle of full blown puberty. Second, I was unequivocally gay. And Finally, I was pretty much a sub. That bit of uncertainty on the last one was mostly because I also had urges to feel the other guy, do things to him that I wanted done to myself. But objectively, I liked being dominated a bit more than I liked dominating others. However, getting pinned down and having pins pierce my arse cheeks ... sort of domination melted away. The need for it had diminished. There were no ghosts to quell. It had been replaced by a much milder form of domination ... being groped ... having someone on top of me going through the motions that mimicked fucking me and me spilling my sperm in my underwear.
During those years my sexual proclivities averaged at least twice a week. The only sore point was that during that whole time, all the boys I had sex with were exclusively in my mind. I was so scared of being outed, that on the single occasion in my sixteenth year, when my desk mate dared me to grab his dick through his pants before he did mine, I fought hard to make sure that neither of us won. This was despite being alone in the classroom and having the desk provide adequate cover even if someone accidentally walked in on us. I was dying inside to fake losing, but the utter terror of him ratting me out to his other friends and word getting somehow to my parents got the better of me. He remained one of my best friends and we still talked a lot of sex, but it was within the confines of what was considered "normal".
Year sixteen was far from being a lost cause though. Not even a month after the desk affair, I knew something was off the moment I entered school. I could hear a lot of whispering and nervous laughter at the school assembly. Then came the announcement that over the next three days, each class would be assigned one period where boys would need to line up and make their way to the school auditorium for a health check. No details! 11th grade, meaning my class, would be on the last day. No exceptions and anyone falling "sick" would be disciplined. I turned to my desk mate and got the low down. I now forget exactly what they were looking for, lice or scabies ... I'm not sure.
But if they followed the same recipe as the school a couple of miles away, the auditorium would be partitioned so that multiple examinations could take place at a time. Very likely the boy being examined would be in the line of sight of at least three or four other boys. As they got closer to the area, they'd be told to remove their shirt and undershirt. At the point of examination, they'd be asked to unbutton their pants but hold them up so that it didn't fall to the ground. The doctor would pull down their underwear and check their groin for whatever they were looking for. They'd then pull the underwear up, have them turn around and do the same. They'd inspect the cheeks and use a small mirror to check the area around the hole. For that, the student had to bend down a bit. For most part the other boys would see nothing because the doctor was always behind the boy and the terrified boy would do his utmost to ensure that the underwear in his clasps was not revealing anything to their prying eyes. Of course there was that occasional boy who'd forget to wear underwear.
This had never happened before at our school. Outwardly I laughed and joked like my peers, but inside I cringed. At some point during the day I came to the decision that I would indeed fall sick, discipline or no discipline. Maybe whatever they wanted done could be done by my local GP. For the next couple of days we got to learn that the auditorium was arranged just like the other school and everything went in an orderly manner.
When that day arrived, I faked a bad headache, quickly ran some hot water over the thermometer just enough... not too hot... didn't want to be rushed to the doctor or anything. I ended up having a lot of free time and no one at home to pry on me!
The next day before the school assembly all my friends made fun of me `cause they guessed exactly why I had fallen sick. But I brushed all that aside and by the time classes started everything went back to normal. The morning classes were uneventful. As soon as the bell rang for recess, I headed towards the door when I felt a hand pat me over the shoulder. I turned around to find my math teacher with a note in his other hand. I was to report to the principal's office. Damn! I thought. I'd already submitted my sick note to the office earlier. So this had to be about the health check-up.
I had a pit in my stomach as I walked down the long corridor of the stone building of our school. At its end was the school office. I entered the office and gave the note to the person at the front desk. She waved her hand indicating that I was free to enter. Although the principal was generally a nice elderly person, I always had knots in my stomach entering his office. I knocked and heard his voice telling me to come in. Behind a formidable wooden desk sat an equally formidable man. His hair and his beard were both shiny white. His thin gold rimmed glasses and his light blue eyes behind them gave him the appearance of an old sage who probably could be counted on for life advice. His thin calm voice and the facial expressions that went with it absolutely added to that image. He'd always been fair, but on every occasion I'd enter his office feeling overly anxious and leave his office feeling utterly relieved.
As I opened the door, I noticed that there were at least a dozen boys in there.
"Good, good. Come on in. We were just waiting for you". The principal then went on to say "OK now that you all are here..." he paused and then gave a silly smile "I suppose you all know why you are here. But if not, let me fill you in." ... a long pause ... then "In all my time at this wonderful school, I've never had so many students who've all come in with sick notes that are remarkably the same. Let's see" waving up one note, "it says, John had a fever. Oh this one ..." picking up another note "Nathan ...also fever"...ruffling through some more notes "Samuel ... "
My heart jumped... I almost rushed to say "Yes Sir!" but I thankfully shut up.
"Also a fever." The principal rose, looked us straight in the eyes. "I wonder if we should be asking our city hospitals if there's a flu epidemic ... a flu that lasts exactly one day." .. in an even subdued and disappointed voice... "I counted. I really did. There were fifteen notes all claiming a one day fever"
He went on to lecture us on how he got what was on our minds, given where we were in our progress to adulthood. Then as always, there was some story for when he'd been our age. The final phase was guilting us into believing that while every other student had just obeyed orders, we'd chosen a path of deceit. How what we'd done was putting everyone else in the school ... No! the whole city, at risk... and it went on for a bit.
Finally he came to the point. "So here's what each of you needs to do. Thankfully, our very own Dr. Wilson has agreed to step in to help you. I want to see each one of you sign up for the checkup by lunch break. You do have a choice, however... the other one being: to have your parents meet me tomorrow.". That was it! "Off you go, now".
All of us had a look of relief on our faces... mostly relieved that the talk was over.
The guy nearest to me muttered ... "at least it'll be in Wilson's office, not in front of the whole fucking school".
That was exactly on my mind too. But I had no idea that what was to come would exceed my wildest dreams.
To be continued...