Howling from the Reform School Basement - Chapter 1
by Dennis B. StoriesNew@yahoo.com May 13, 2006
(c) Copyright 2006, Dennis Banneker (author). All rights reserved except free license granted to Nifty.org for its own uses. No hard copies permitted. Alterations, additions, deletions, or any other changes strictly forbidden. No posting or reposting without the author's express consent. The author's email address must always appear prominently. Posting or reposting to pay sites or heterosexual sites or primarily heterosexual sites is prohibited. __________________________________________________________________
WARNING: To qualify to read this story, you must be of legal age and allowed by the jurisdiction or jurisdictions that govern you to read sexually explicit homosexual material and/or descriptions of application of pain or other discomfort to the body. If you do not qualify, you must exit and seek other material. You have been warned. Thank you for cooperating and being fair to others.
*** The unqualified may not read beyond this point. ***
IMPORTANT INFORMATION FOR THE READER
This story is an authoritarian fantasy written for entertainment purposes only, containing images one might like to imagine, but would never want to attempt or witness in real life.
This story delves into disciplinary practices of a reform school authorized by state authorities to administer such painful punishments and training procedures--including frequent, mandated sex--as deemed necessary to maintain order, relieve tension, and to rehabilitate its students to become well-behaved citizens.
A good number of the students in this fictional reform school are young criminals who have stolen, murdered, or worse. Be prepared to encounter vivid punishment and humiliation scenes--although the humiliation, while potent, does not abuse the boy. The masters of this school do it artfully, and the boy is embarrassed, sometimes before he comprehends what is happening to him. No permanent marks or damage occurs, yet these images are not for the weak or squeamish. Don't look for grunge, heavy body odor, etc.
All persons, names, places, events, and descriptions, are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, names, places, events, or descriptions, in the past or present, is totally unintentional and a pure coincidence.
SEE COMPLETE LIST OF MY OTHER STORIES AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER. OR VISIT NIFTY'S AUTHOR SECTION UNDER "STORIESNEW."
COMMENTS via email are hereby solicited at StoriesNew@yahoo.com to get your input which encourages the author to continue writing the story. Alternatively or concomitantly, feel free also to make any suggestions from your own preferences, including fetishes.
If you'd like to get me totally on your side, tell me which part(s) of the chapter you found most enjoyable. If you want me to jump through hoops for you, also include quotes from the chapter. If you'd like to write a long email, please do.
I'll do my best to accommodate a request without compromising certain standards. For example, despite the fictional nature of this work, I won't allow any character to suffer bodily damage or scarring, nor turn this story of a well-structured institution into a chaotic orgy. However, I may decide that certain older students, say, over 18, could be given the opportunity to volunteer for procedures that may leave a scar in an inconspicuous place on the body. That decision has not been made.
Future chapters remain unwritten until I review the email from the previous chapter. The story may seem intimidating, but as a correspondent, I'm friendly.
Thank you, Dennis __________________________________________________________________
HOWLING FROM THE REFORM SCHOOL BASEMENT by Dennis Banneker StoriesNew@yahoo.com
CAST, IN AGE ORDER, (NOT ALL APPEARING TOGETHER IN ONE CHAPTER).
STUDENTS Seth, 12 John, 13 Robbie, 13 Wendell, 13 Jared, 13 Travis, 14, one of many new students, freshly arrived Lineup of five 14-year-olds Adam, 14 (student of the month) Ryan, 16 Darren, 16 Jeff, 16 Carl, 16 Dillon, 16 Luis, 17 (son of Phillip Martinez) Michael, 17 Scott, 18 Oliver, 19 (The 15-year olds are in chastisement, and can't participate now.) Others, 13 to 25, not listed. THERE ARE OTHER, OLDER STUDENTS (over 25) NOT LISTED.
STAFF & OTHERS Lars Feergoont, 22, an assistant Stuart Grant, 23, an assistant Harold Ashleter, a supervisor, 24 Phillip Martinez, lead master, 26 Fredrick Jenning, visitor, 38 Narrates Ralph McMannis, Headmaster, 39 _______________________________________
CHAPTER 1
It wasn't loud. Not from my location. The lower level was heavily insulated. But muffled cries floated up to me as I stood on the main floor of the Red Valley Reform School for Boys.
Suddenly it fell silent. New students had arrived and needed to be inducted. Initiated was more like it. Things went more smoothly if they prevented the new boys from hearing the audible results of their punishment routines--at least on their first day, or until they could be initiated.
Although I was a guest at the institution, I was acquainted with its basic operation. And while this would be my first visit to the basement, it wasn't my first visit to the building.
Many of the reform school's students came from Bennington High --an average, middle class school where I was currently assistant principal. I recognized several Bennington students on my visits to Red Valley, which is noted for its high rate of success for improving the behavior of the boys.
While I waited to be received and given my customary tour by my friend Ralph, the Headmaster, one of the supervisors, Harold Ashleter, came walking down the hall and greeted me. The staff and many of the students knew that I might become their Dean of Discipline someday soon.
"Hello, Mr. Jenning," he said cheerfully, good to see you again. Here for another visit?"
"Yes, thanks. And don't call me that, Harold. It's Fred."
"Fred," the cute 24-year old said anxiously, "I think Ralph would want you to see what's happening in the next room. One of the new boys is in a bit of trouble."
Trouble--or the results of it--was what I'd come to see. Harold led the way. Apparently, he was in charge of this situation.
In the next room, I saw Lars Feergoont, a handsome 22-year- old, blond, Swedish assistant, still in training--and a boy. A beautiful boy of 14--a slender lad with well-groomed blond hair, about 5 foot 6 inches tall, arresting blue eyes, and quite a nice sleek build--with an angelic face, the kind that always excited me down below. They had him undressed to his briefs.
'Travis,' proclaimed the sign hanging from a string around the boy's neck. Poor Travis tried to maintain some dignity, but that was quickly being replaced with a case of anxiety.
As I stood by listening to Harold and Lars discuss the case in low, ominous tones, I learned that the tanned, good-looking young teen was from Texas. As hard as I tried to imagine it, I could not envision Travis as a troublemaker. He may have been somewhat on the small side, but the boy looked quite sturdy, almost regal, were it not for his near-nakedness. But he definitely seemed to be the shy, quiet type. Travis was no ruffian.
The young lad stood accused of punching a boy painfully-- breaking his nose and causing the victim considerable bleeding.
"Why did you punch that boy? What were you thinking? This better be good!" Lars shouted, unnerving the youth.
"I--I really don't know, sir. It's hard to explain, and--"
"Be quiet! You're going to be punished. Blabbering will make it worse."
Just those few well-spoken words from the boy's mouth convinced me I had sized-up Travis correctly. And his cute Texas drawl charmed me. If he were guilty as charged, I'd take his punishment myself.
"What do you think, Lars?" Harold asked, forcing Lars to make a decision. This was part of his training.
"I say we just hit him, and get it over with," the 22-year-old said, bulging pants indicating that he liked his job.
"No," Harold said, "we can't hit a boy until he's initiated into student status. Only the Head can make an exception."
"Shit," Lars mouthed, facing Harold, his back to Travis.
After I listened to the conversation for a few more moments, it became clear that the Headmaster, Ralph McMannis, was suddenly and unexpectedly tied up with visitors from the state. Fortunately, they were not expected to tour the building today.
The boy with the broken nose came from an influential family, so the case had to be processed promptly. I watched as Lars paged through the Master's Manual, trying to find the rule Harold had cited. Harold removed the sign from Travis, who trembled now.
From bits of whispered conversation between Harold and Lars, I could tell that they didn't know why the punch was thrown, or what could have passed between the nameless victim and Travis, the cute boy I wished I could take home and adopt. No, Harold and Lars couldn't tell what had happened. They didn't know any of the facts.
But I knew--not as a witness, but from experience. Some hooligan punched that boy and bullied Travis into taking the blame. The bully would soon learn that every square foot of the school was video monitored, and no student got away with anything --especially not bullying.
However, if the staff approved of a boy, they would overlook an unauthorized sexual union here and there--approval proportional to the boy's looks and willingness to partake of certain late- night, unofficial practices. The mere rumors of those nightly sessions made my hair stand on end.
"Here it is," Lars announced excitedly, reading from the Manual, "No uninitiated boy may be struck with any object whatsoever--including hands or other body parts, for any reason. The boy may be punished in other ways, including humiliation, providing no uninitiated student is present to witness same."
"See--I told you," Harold said triumphantly.
"That rule says the boy may not be struck. But now we have The Convincer," Lars said in his pleasant Swedish accent.
"I think you're on to something, Lars!"
After checking a few cross-references, the two were certain they could proceed. Smiles and erections abounded.
"We can DO it!"
"Good!" Harold said. "May as well round up a crew of our horniest 14-year-olds to sit in the audience. No sense wasting a chance for some old-fashioned humiliation while the Convincer entertains us. I'll have Seth round up about twenty of the cutest he can find."
"Seth? Oh, the cute twelve-year old, Lars said. "Is it true he can't be initiated till he turns thirteen?"
"Yes--he's one of a handful of them. Might as well be living in a hotel," Harold said, his words indicating separate quarters and excellent treatment for the 12-year-olds as Lars escorted Travis backstage, behind the thick curtains.
I was content to take a seat in the audience and wait.
The Convincer, relatively new, is an electronically controlled device, shaped like a large and very thick clam, designed to be installed over the scrotum. The remote-controlled mechanism, hidden inside, applied various degrees of pressure to the recipient's testicles. The squeezing effect could be executed slowly in 'Constant Mode,' or quickly in 'Jog' mode which simulated sudden impacts of force ranging from mild to severe.
When used skillfully, the Convincer could provide hours of entertainment. The recipient, or, 'wearer,' would go through a wide range of responses, especially at the lower settings of the fiendish thing. The gradually-increasing pressure of Constant Mode resulted in the wearer's long howl, building in pitch and volume as the boy writhed in pain or stomped his feet with tremendous energy--leaving observers with a throbbing erection.
The saving grace of the Convincer was a fortunate fact of the male anatomy--the testicles sent extremely intense pain signals to the brain long before the point of possible damage. So there was a wide margin of safety.
The Convincer instruments at Red Valley were programmed to release its victim's organs well before the applied pressure reached the danger level--lest the operator get carried away. But the pain at that point was beyond endurance. As far as I knew, such a high level of pressure had never been employed.
The room we were in was the main auditorium, used for many a punishment--performed on the stage and witnessed by the entire school. It had an assortment of punishment frames, ropes, chains, and bars, including a trapeze that could be let down from the ceiling; also, many closets filled with instruments of pain and pleasure--and miscellaneous gadgets in abundance.
The central portion of the stage was a circular turntable powered by electrical motors. When allowed to rotate, the scene on stage could be viewed from all angles.
Seth was quick. Within minutes, great numbers of 14-year-old students, as well as a few privileged 13 and 16-year-olds, filed in. Harold let them converse without limit. The volume of sound in the great room rose to uncomfortable levels.
The youthful audience burst into applause as Harold and Lars, accompanied by Seth, brought Travis, blushing profusely, onto the large stage. Seth was, among other things, the volunteer school 'fluffer,' and he obviously had done his job well, judging from the size of the bulge in Travis' tight briefs.
The 14-year-old's impressive-looking penis lay in a horizontal position, pointing to his right hip.
As Travis was made to stand in front of the other three on stage, he turned his head, saying something to Harold.
It looked as if the boy were pleading--to be anywhere but on that stage. The coloration in Travis' face showed vividly on two giant video screens, mounted high on either side of the stage. Most of the audience occupied first few rows--leaning forward, anticipating whatever procedures would be done to the poor lad.
When Seth knelt before the fated 14-year-old, the boys in the audience went wild. They soon calmed and quieted, emitting a low hum--their version of a drum roll. The trapeze was lowered, and Travis was told to grip its bar--height quickly adjusted to keep his arms up high without lifting the boy.
Lars gave a shout--a signal to Seth.
Seth, grinning as a 12-year-old would, grasped the waistband of the unfortunate boy's briefs as the humming onlookers increased their volume of sound.
Travis, doing his best to hold on to the bar, blushed fearfully as Seth slid the underwear down to the level where the boy's erection was freed suddenly, springing up and bouncing, providing fodder for laughter and hoots from the approving, enthusiastic, crowd. Travis' underwear was tossed aside. The cute boy was now enticingly naked.
Travis struggled--writhing, mortified as he gripped the bar, his pubescent muscles and tufts of underarm hair erotically displayed--along with the little patch of pubic hair that adorned his penis, the thing bouncing but diminishing in size.
There was a pause.
"What--no volunteers?" Lars asked, speaking into a microphone, grinning at the audience.
I wondered what the volunteer would be expected to do.
All hands went up. Whatever it was, all the boys wanted to do it. Harold selected Adam--the 14-year-old student of the month. He had achieved the highest academic honors in his age group, as this was a high school.
The cute boy walked calmly to the stage, climbed the stairs and stood next to Travis. Seth moved out of the way.
"Do you approve?" Harold said to the audience, holding up Adam's arm.
"YES!" came the collective response of thirty or so students.
Lars spoke again. "The perpetrator will now let go of the bar and masturbate until orgasm or until told to stop."
"No! Please!" Travis shouted--red-faced, sweating.
This prompted Lars to whisper into the boy's ear, no doubt telling the frightened lad of some terrible punishment in store for him if he failed to cooperate.
I wondered what role Adam was to play in all this.
In a few seconds, Travis released the bar of the trapeze, grasped his softening penis, and began the familiar oscillating movements all boys know well.
"Oh, God, no," the poor boy said, squeezing his eyes closed in miserable embarrassment--as if to shut out the gaze of the others who were eager to see every movement.
"STROKE! STROKE! STROKE!" they chanted.
After a moment, Lars quieted the audience, leaving Travis to feel alone in his extreme discomfort, as he jerked off in the isolating silence. The hardness of Travis' boy-flesh, his speeding hand and breaths--and the inevitable squishing, liquid sound of a boy masturbating with the slippery aid of his precum-- combined enticingly to form a potent source of arousal for all.
"Cool him down," Harold announced when the boy began to groan in the throes of compelling, early-adolescent pleasure. Lars stopped the boy, who was soon dipped into a vat of ice water--up to his waist--for five minutes. The boy screamed the last few minutes, as his scrotum had pulled up so tightly, the powerful muscles squeezed the sensitive ovals painfully.
Dried off and shivering, Travis assumed his position at the trapeze bar. His blush began to form anew.
Adam stepped up close to Travis.
"Suck! Suck! Suck!" the crowd of boys sang out.
Then I knew Adam's enviable role.
"The fourteen-year-old boy of the month will now perform orally upon the perpetrator, until orgasm occurs or until told to stop."
This hospitable prelude deceived many young miscreants into thinking their fate would not be so bad.
At that point, many of the boys in the audience were masturbating in their seats. Some stood naked in the aisle--each of those quite fortunate to have another boy fondling him and sucking his rampant erection.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" Travis shouted erotically, shuddering with need as Adam's mouth began to take the luscious organ between his lips. Travis quickly regained his previous sense of mortification, shouting, "Oh, God, no!"
Thunderous applause filled the air as the audience took in the arousing spectacle--the boy's face and limbs betraying the massive battle, the impossible struggle between his humiliation and the immense sexual pleasure coursing through his young body--and the sight of young Adam enjoying himself as he serviced Travis with sensuous, reciprocal movements that agreeably distorted his lips.
Adam was eventually stopped, and Harold held up The Convincer for all to see. The roar of the audience assaulted my ears.
"What's that?" and a dozen other questions came forth from Travis--to whispered responses from Harold as he installed the punishment device. It was alternatively used as a 'Boy Trainer.'
The young lad's face filled with fear.
As Travis' shaking hands once again gripped the bar, Lars activated a control that raised the boy a few inches from the floor. Harold then worked the remote control of The Convincer, making the device give a quick squeeze to the boy's vulnerable parts.
"Yeaaaaaaaahhhh!" Travis yelled, his open mouth a cavern to vocalize the furious pain as he kicked his feet vigorously--his captivating body swinging from the raised trapeze. The slow, graceful arcs seemed diametrically opposed to the chaos of the untamed flailing--and sweating, anguished face.
The jolt setting must have been low. Most sudden jolts from The Convincer make a boy lose his grip, but Travis held on.
The audience called for a slow squeeze. Harold assented. He tapped commands into the remote control.
Then, from Travis' irresistible boyish mouth, came a low, sensuous moan, picking up strength on its own, yet the pressure on the lad's precious organs remained constant. Every squirm of the lad's body, each frantic stroke of his slender limbs, announced the advancing, stunning pain that shot upwards, his torso twitching erratically.
When Harold notched up the pressure, the boy's moan became a tormented growl, as a small animal in fear. Still more pressure elicited a high-pitched howling that thrilled students and staff-- as the boy kicked his legs wildly, turned his head from side to side with the vicious pain, eventually screaming for his life.
Travis gave a monumental shout when Harold suddenly released all pressure--the pain shocking as the sudden pressure had been.
As the poor boy hung there, squirming and kicking furiously, looking down at the little machine that had tormented him, Ralph the Headmaster entered and conferred with Lars and Harold.
Apparently permission was given to use striking instruments. A long, vicious-looking strap was brought to the stage. This caused Travis to lose his grip, and he fell to the floor, landing on his feet. The frightened lad froze.
"Thirty-six lashes to the dorsal side of the body," Harold announced grimly. Travis panicked. I imagined the red marks soon to appear on his buttocks and legs. Perhaps his back, as well.
Ralph told me we'd better get started. Reluctantly, I left the auditorium. I heard a boy's voice scream vehemently as the doors closed behind us, the echo of slapping leather accompanying.
Travis' second, impossibly tormented scream followed me down the hall.
Harold had to leave me. I went alone to the school's basement, content that I would watch the remainder of Travis' processing on video later.
This would be a rough weekend for the students in Red Valley's old boiler room. This was the room where the punishments for the more serious offenses took place. By now, all the newcomers were locked away in the upper level rooms--a soundproof portion of the well-constructed building.
The boiler had been fired up for effect, and the room was used often, with all the miscreants in full view of each other. There were some exceptions--the gigantic room, about 50 by 100 feet, was occasionally used for private disciplinary sessions.
The school accepted male students from ages 13 to 20-- supposedly unruly boys--but not all were, I knew. The 13-year- olds were treated less harshly than the others. However, a student of any age was subject to harsh punishment if he injured anyone.
A boy was allowed to remain at the institution after his release date for an unlimited time if his parents decided not to take him back into their home. There were a number of such cases --the student remained a ward of the state indefinitely as a worker at the school, while still subject to certain punishments and curious forms of treatment known as endurance training.
I became aware of a young man, about 23 years old, walking and looking around the big room, holding something in his hand. He was scantily dressed--just running shoes and a thin pair of shorts. His smooth naked chest aroused me. Eventually, he got close enough for me to hear what he was saying.
"Mister Jenning? Fredrick Jenning?"
"Yes, that's me," I said admiring the cute lad's body.
"I'm Stuart Grant. Nice to meet you, Mister Jenning. I have your visitor's pass."
I had him repeat what he said. It was difficult to hear over the sounds of various materials hitting bare skin and the shouts of the boys being punished.
I thanked Stuart and pasted the pass to my shirt. I hadn't yet applied for the job, but I was hoping to become Dean of Discipline at the school, provided I liked what I saw on this visit. I was pleased that quite a few boys were good-looking. I spent an hour or so just wandering around the warm basement room, admiring youthful bodies, welts and red stripes of all descriptions, and of course, beautiful faces and arousing screams.
Stuart explained that Ralph was now free, and led me to the headmaster's office. "He wants to talk with you now." Ralph McMannis was the head man--we were old friends. I went upstairs and greeted him in his office.
"Better take that shirt off, Fred," Ralph said as we finally shook hands. "It's warm down there. The boiler's on, and it'll get warmer as the day progresses. We supply mineral water to everyone down there--that way the lads don't fatigue as quickly. Did you get to see any of the water boys?"
"I didn't notice any," I said, transferring the visitor's pass to my trousers, and taking off the shirt.
"You will. They're hand-picked from all those who volunteer-- the cutest of the twelve year olds. We like to keep them naked when they're down there. You'll see them popping erections more often than any of the other students--including the younger teen observers. And stiff as hell."
"What about the older ones, Ralph?"
"Ah, you've seen them! Any boy 17 and up wears a blue arm- band. These you may play with openly in any non-painful way. Doesn't matter if the boy is there for punishment or just observing."
"You mean--just walk up to the kid and start fondling him?"
"Exactly--or tease him sexually, tickle, lick, suck--whatever. You can even have a younger observer boy or water boy interact with him in any way you choose. Try to prevent the boy's orgasm. And don't blush about your erection. I'm always hard when I'm down in that boiler room."
Ralph went on to explain that there was always a group of students who were rewarded for good behavior by allowing them to watch the other boys get their punishments--that being an accepted form of entertainment in the strange culture of the reform school.
"That explains why the boiler room is so crowded."
"And so large. They're not all there to be paddled, caned, whipped--or worse. We give them a good dose of pain, appropriate for their offenses, but never harm them."
"So," I said, blushing--thinking about a 17-year-old interacting with a 12 or 13-year-old-- "what's the best way to get the older boy to blush?"
"Haha! I see we have similar tastes. Well, if you do it enough, you'll find your own favorite way to embarrass the older boy. My favorite is to make him masturbate publicly or suck off a young boy. Having the young one fuck him is another good one. Most of the older ones have a sense of pride that says younger boys are beneath them. I'm sure you get the idea, Fred."
"Damn," I said, adjusting hy hardon. "Yes, Ralph, I get it, loud and clear."
Ralph told me the general rules, then assigned Stuart to be my personal guide. He would explain things and answer my questions.
Stuart gracefully led me back the boiler room. We retreated to a storage room that doubled as Stuart's office.
"Why a boiler room, Stuart? Odd place for a punishment scene." Although he was a young man, I thought of him as a boy and enjoyed his appealing looks.
"The heat. Keeps the skin healthier and more supple. They're prettier when they sweat. And it puts more stress on them--the victims--they feel the pain more at around ninety-five degrees."
"Oh, victims--that's the inside term for the punishees."
"Yes," Stuart said. "You just missed a good scene--a seventeen-year-old got a good caning, and two of the observer students just had precum licked off their cocks by Seth--one of the water boys."
"You allow that sort of thing in a group punishment scene?" I was astounded. To me, this was different from the procedure with Travis. I could still hear the leather striking his flesh.
"You . . . don't know about our new sex training program?"
"I never imagined you did that here, Stuart. You let them have sex with each other?"
"Yes. Some new boys have to be . . . persuaded, especially the straight ones. Other than that, yes, they have regular sex-- with most of the others watching, a majority of the time. But--we often give a couple privacy as a reward."
"Sex! Why on earth . . . ?"
"Sir, we can't house over a hundred fifty boys and control them with just punishment. We found out a long time ago that letting them have regular sex helps keep their behavior in check. They still get regular periods in chastity belts, plus the usual use of it as a punishment."
"Sounds like it could be interesting," I said, suppressing my enthusiasm. "It makes sense."
"Sex is MOTIVATING, too. Boys will do a lot of obeying to avoid the chastity belt. Sometimes they compete for sex, staying on their best behavior, hoping to get a private session with their favorite boy. We record it all on tape--secretly," Stuart said with a sensual grin.
"Amazing. Do you have contests?"
"Yes--lots of those. And we all enjoy watching. Even the little stunts of the water boys are . . . very entertaining to the other students--and staff," Stuart said, grasping his penis through his thin shorts for emphasis.
"Let Ralph know I want to be here for those."
"Yes, sir. But the best is watching the boys vie for sexual favors, competing with each other to be the one who takes the most pain. The winner gets the boy of his choice, or some other fleshly prize.
"You don't remember me, do you," I said, smiling at Stuart.
"Um--I don't think so."
"At Bennington High--your last day of school, your senior year. I walked in on you. You were masturbating in the boys room. And it looked like you had a friend watching you," I said, referring to the incident politely. In reality, the two were jerking each other off. I was just a teacher, then.
"Oh, God," Stuart said, blushing.
"You remember now?"
"Yes, sir. You looked me over, then just walked out. I was scared as hell, but nothing ever came of it."
"Do you know why?" I said, staring at his hairless tight pectorals and beautiful little nipples.
"I think so, sir. You . . . liked me."
"Exactly. I still do."
"Thanks for saving my butt, Mister Jenning. But I thought you'd want one of the younger boys."
"That, too."
"We'll arrange something later. We better get back out there."
Stuart led me into the main area of the large boiler room.
There were lots of boys, ranging from 13 to 25, I guessed. Plus the 12-year-old water boys. Some were watching, some just waiting. But most eyes were on a small group of mid-teens that was the center of attention at the moment.
There were four of them--young men, 16 years old--boys really. Naked. All boy-next-door types, typical of the students at the all-boarding school. I was told their names were Jeff, Darren, Kevin, and Carl.
They wore a type of chastity belt that had a large, clear plastic tube, giving a full view of the penis and allowing the natural movement of the shaft when the penis became erect. Two were rock hard, their organs potent, young, and fresh-looking-- making the clear tubes stand upward.
Later I would learn that I had arrived on the scene just after these four were given a drug to induce erection and excite their natural urges. Within moments, the two flaccid organs rose and thickened.
All four throbbed now with the effects of the virility drug, given in slight overdose--necessary for the four victims to maintain an erect state while enduring their painful treatment. The unsatisfied, artificially-induced sexual craving would add to their torment.
Their sudden flow of precum charmed me--an effect of the virility drug.
I overheard a conversation between two of the older boys, a good-looking pair, about 18 or 19 years old. The one said that the virility shot was probably unnecessary because these four boys had been locked into chastity belts for 15 days, and made to watch arousing videos for several hours a day. After the first day, these four 16-year-olds were seen more than once trying to hump the air in desperation.
The master made them bend their knees a certain amount. Then, for each boy, he tied a rope from his victim's balls to a hook embedded in the floor. I could see these poor guys were in for a rough time. The master made the ropes taut.
There was no talk of a misdeed attributed to the unfortunate foursome, so I got the impression this was not a punishment.
The four teens struggled to bend their knees more--to take all the pressure--the pull of the ropes--off their tender ovals. This effort succeeded, and I thought the master had made a mistake-- made it easy for these studly 16 year olds to escape the pain.
Then every one of the four got a strap placed under each arm. The straps were lined with very short needles. The master tightened these straps by winching them upward abruptly, then locked the straps at that height.
The four boys instantly straightened their knees to escape the sudden pain of the vicious needles. The knee-jerk reaction raised their bodies swiftly to break the contact between their armpits and the needle-lined straps.
Then they screamed for their lives. By straightening their legs, the unsuspecting youths had pulled their bodies upward--and their balls with them--each boy suddenly and powerfully tightening the rope that connected his scrotum to the floor. It was as if someone had yanked unmercifully on their ball-ropes with tremendous force.
The abrupt motion caused their induced erections to bounce charmingly.
After a few minutes, I examined the movements of the victims and the unusual setup more closely. I spent many minutes taking in the logic of this apparatus and its attractive sufferers.
I focused on the cutest of the 16 year olds and watched him carefully. After his scream, he bent his knees again to relieve the awful ache in his testicles.
Knees bent, he moaned softly--an exhausted sound, as if a louder moan would have been emitted if the lad simply had more energy. And judging by the amount of his sweat that had dripped to the floor, this procedure was quite stressful. All four of them were in identical restraints, and shared the same painful results.
With the rope pulling constantly on his balls, the boy naturally moaned and grimaced--but less as he bent his knees. This brought his body and aching balls closer to the floor, reducing the pull of the rope, lessening the excruciating stab of pain from the sudden jolt of the rope, moments before. But his knees bent only gradually, slowly relaxing the rope tied to his scrotum--the relief obvious on the boy's face.
While his body continued to descend, his armpits contacted the needled, under-arm straps. As he continued relaxing his knees to let his body drift downward, the increased pressure on the needles seemed to reach an intolerable point of pain suddenly, causing the poor lad to scream with the pain of the needles, then straighten his knees with a sudden jerk, pulling his body rapidly upward. This again stretched his ball-rope mightily, the colossal pain eliciting a ghastly, deafening scream.
The poor boy released his knees quickly.
Up and down he went, in a slow, torturous process.
All four boys went through this cycle. Knees bending, their bodies lowering, relaxing the vicious pull of the rope. Continuing, their armpits stretched the straps and felt the tips of the needles. Then came a pained scream, the legs straightening with a jolt, resulting in the body pulling upward powerfully and suddenly. Then the awful grisly sound of a young man in great pain--the appearance of his grotesquely stretched scrotum a grim reminder of the boy's suffering.
The second scream was markedly more pain-filled and agonized than the first--coming out explosively from the victim's wide open mouth--a massive blast of sound, born of the impossible agony in his balls--coming from deep inside the boy, his jaw fully dropped, projecting the resonance in his alluring, 16-year-old chest, vibrating everything in the room.
All at different points in the cycle, the four moaning, captivating boys slowly lowered, then rose suddenly, accompanied by the vigorous double-scream. Up and down they went--in a never ending cycle, like errant pistons in an automobile engine.
My impatient erection knew no such alternations. It stayed in the upward mode at this enchanting, erotic sight--four, handsome mid-adolescent boys screaming rhythmically, sliding up and down with their backs against the flat surface of the strange apparatus--and their delicious cocks fully erect, bouncing with youthful vigor.
Part of me had great pity for the good-looking foursome. Another part remained rock hard.
I put my hand into my pocket--through a convenient hand-sized hole there--and gently edged the pulsating tip of my cock with a gentle sliding touch of my fingers.
But my delaying tactics became a potent stimulant.
One of the 16-year-olds cramped agonizingly, his legs stiffening abruptly with the pain. The poor boy screamed for mercy on his balls as I watched his testicles distort, becoming purple from the immense pressure. The mammoth pathetic scream raged on as the poor lad's face darkened with his impossible dual suffering--his body quaking from the stupefying pain.
Cum shot out of my pocket.
"I see you're enjoying yourself. These are the straight ones. That's what they call themselves, anyway," the ringleader said, approaching me for the first time and startling me. "Fun to watch, yes?" He was an Hispanic man, very well muscled, and quite good-looking. His name was Phillip.
"Yes, fun. Clever setup." Like hell it was fun, I thought. Those poor boys were trembling pitifully, their muscles knotted against the gnawing pain, and they sweat like I'd never seen a human sweat--not to mention the agony in their balls, palpable as their expressions of anguish worsened with each up and down cycle of their bizarre torment.
"And very painful," Phillip added. "Their legs are strong and do a good job of straining their nice nuts. The rope squeezes them. When they jerk their knees--it's like dropping a ten-pound weight on your balls."
"At least," I said, having sudden sympathy for one poor howling lad who pulled his knees straight a bit too energetically.
"It's pretty scary shit, but no real harm," Phillip said proudly.
"Yes."
"That's Ryan you're watching," he said. "He's one of the four who claim to be straight. Sixteen--a nice age. These guys take a lot of pain, though. And for nothing. All the boys play with each other, get fucked, and suck cock eventually."
At least I now knew the purpose of this procedure on the unfortunate 16-year-old students.
"OKAY! YOU WIN!" the screaming boy said. "I'll suck a dick, take it up the ass--ANYTHING! Just get me OFF this thing!"
Apparently, Ryan was yielding.
"You think it's that easy?" Phillip said harshly to the suffering lad. "You put us through a lot of trouble--to set up this equipment and get you restrained--all for your stubbornness! You think I'm gonna just cut you loose, after all that?"
"AH!" the boy shouted in pain. "I--I don't know. PLEASE, sir! It hurts!"
"You suck dick and end your pain after Luis is done with you. You'll taste the strap first."
"Ouch," I said in empathy.
Stuart leaned in and spoke to me softly to prevent others from hearing. "You've met Erik--the kid with the ten-inches. He's gonna love breaking in Ryan's ass."
I was loving the big lump in Stuart's shorts. I was told that Erik had been using a penis pump to artificially enlarge his dick --at the master's orders--especially for cases such as Ryan and his friends. I wondered if Eric had reached 11 inches yet.
Phillip explained that Ryan would take some big-boy cock up his butt before the day was over, as well as some interesting dildos and other ass-stretching devices--time permitting.
"Oh, God!" Ryan said, horrified as he looked at a powerfully- built young man with a mean-looking strap in his hand. He was Luis, about 17 years old, a body-builder type and good looking, like his father, Phillip.
Luis grinned smugly with great satisfaction, knowing the thick strap would further agonize the younger lad.
"You like my boy?" Phillip asked proudly.
"He's magnificent."
"But I see you have the eye for Ryan," Phillip said, nodding toward the beautiful 16 year old.
Stuart gave me a discreet elbow in the ribs, his subtle grin telling me he'd noticed my tent throbbing at the sight of Ryan.
"Yes. Ryan arouses me--a lot."
"He IS beautiful, that's for sure," Phillip continued. "The blond, blue-eyed look. Thin enough to be stylish, muscled enough to be hot. Too bad Luis's strap is going to turn the back of him red, from shoulders to ankles."
"How bad?" I said, worried for the boy.
"Enough to make him scream in agony. Not enough to mangle his nice skin."
"I see." I was petrified for the boy, but somewhat relieved.
"Get him down!" Phillip shouted, making us all jump.
Three, much younger, naked boys ran to Ryan and freed him, while a nameless 12-year-old gave water to him.
The ones that freed Ryan rubbed his joints to help him move about less painfully. I found out these were 13-year-olds, John, Robbie, and Wendell, who were among the group rewarded with the right to observe the proceedings, but obviously had been assigned a little work to do in the process.
Ralph had been right. The 12-year-old water boy had the stiffest-looking erection I'd ever seen--and with precum at the tip. I assumed his big balls made him one of those rare 12 year olds than can shoot. He seemed to be having a great deal of fun.
One of the older teens grabbed the water boy's little erection and stroked it a few times. I thought that was odd, since Ralph had said the older boys wanted nothing to do sexually with the young ones--but I supposed there had to be exceptions. The poor 12 year old winced, bent over with the sudden, pleasant sensation.
Soon, the three 13-year-olds tied Ryan down to a curved wooden table--his back, buttocks, and legs positioned vulnerably.
Luis approached with his strap--grinning, leaning over his victim gleefully.
"Let him have it," Phillip said to a waiting Luis.
The water boy and the three 13-year-olds began to stroke themselves.
SSSHHHHWWHHAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPP!
I jumped out of my skin, hearing the ferocious sound. It seemed impossible that gruesome noise was the strap smacking the poor kid.
A blood-curdling scream exploded from Ryan's mouth.
"It gets better when the legs are strapped," Phillip said with a cruel grin.
"I suppose so," I said, empathizing with the boy's suffering, and wondering if I could help him get a less-severe sentence.
"And YOU!" Phillip shouted to a lineup of five 14-year-old boys. They were observers and had been told to watch and enjoy the treatment of the four 16 year olds--and masturbate slowly without reaching orgasm. "You've had a dose of pleasure. Now it's time for some pain."
This caused several other stroking boys to cease their self- pleasuring and disappear into the crowd--fearful expressions on their faces.
The frightened 14-year-olds shouted and groaned miserably at the sight of another punishment master--a slimmer version of Luis --a good looking 17-year-old, who began to strike each boy's penis with a narrow strap. Their thin, high-pitched screams and howls filled the air.
I hadn't realized that observer-duty came with risks of painful treatment.
I recognized one of the 14 year olds as a Bennington High freshman, who was known, to me at least, as the boy who walked through the halls with a hardon much of the time and was most aggressive in the locker room--whipping his towel at other boys' naked rear ends with remarkable aim, while his exposed erection waved about for all to see.
The poor boy, like his mates, looked distressed, despite his status as an observer--not currently subject to discipline. It would be interesting to hear his opinion of the reform school when he returned to Bennington.
"They're not being hit hard. They're good actors," Phillip assured me, referring to the five 14-year-old boys. "We need to balance out the pleasure. Plus they need a little pain to hold off from coming. They'll be all happy when we let them stroke their cocks again."
"Yes, I'm sure," I said, wincing at the sights and shouts of complaint of the smaller boys, torsos and penises jerking wildly after each blow to their young erections--bodies held in place with curious restraints. As much as I sympathized with the unlucky quintet, my cock ached with animated excitement.
On closer examination, I could see the strap-wielder was using very judicious restraint in the force he applied.
"Hey--they'll still be able to come. They all will," Phillip said as the cock-slapping ended.
Phillip left to attend to his duties, leaving me alone with Stuart again. We both lusted over the five, cute 14-year-olds, who rubbed their cocks but had stopped complaining suddenly.
"What about the other three straight ones--the sixteen-year- old boys?" I asked Stuart, who was adjusting his erection.
"Won't be long and they'll all give in. They may not like the boy-sex at first, but pretty soon they'll be fighting each other over the right to suck off certain boys here, or fuck them. Eventually they'll fantasize about a boy every time they come--at least while they're here."
From some distance behind me in the huge boiler room, I heard the unmistakable sound of a rapidly-swung wooden paddle come to an abrupt halt against the flesh of a boy's naked buttocks.
A beautiful 17-year-old observer boy, masturbating frantically --aroused by the potent paddle-whack--his penis carlessly aimed, sprayed his delicious-looking, warm boy-juice on my naked chest. The panting lad smiled his apology, attempting in vain to speak.
I spotted a couple of erect 14 year olds who I thought might help the alluring masturbator lick off the slowly-dripping cum. Perhaps they would be kind enough to add their own young ejaculate to the large mass of adolescent essence.
Dennis B. (Scroll down for complete story list.) StoriesNew@Yahoo.com Any comments would be great!
I'd feel so much better hearing from you and knowing you're out there. If you're not sure what to say, tell me what you liked. Or whatever. :-) --Dennis
That's all I wrote so far. Thanks for reading.
Hope you liked it. Even one email would put a smile on my face and make it easier to write more.
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DENNIS B. - STORIES POSTED ON NIFTY AS OF 13 MAY 2006. 17 stories under the following 6 headings:
- HIGH SCHOOL/COLLEGE - SCOUT/CAMPING - BROTHER STORIES - ADULT-YOUTH (TENDER) - DAD-SON INCEST (TENDER) - "NO PAIN NO GAIN"
All my stories are on Nifty.
You can also find them under 'StoriesNew' in Nifty's Author section. NOT UNDER MY NAME. Don't know why Nifty did it that way, but what the heck. :-) Not all my stories are listed there yet.
NEW: Howling from the Reform School Basement.
Heading: "NO PAIN NO GAIN" (below).
(Main age group 13 to 25. Students punished as
the school attempts to modify their behavior.
Sex is used often, as reward mechanism and to
permit the students to let off steam.)
Not for the squeamish, but no lasting marks, etc.
- First post APPROX. May 13, 2006.
NIFTY - Authoritarian.
HIGH SCHOOL/COLLEGE STORIES
- Crazy for Chad (Love story. Ages 16 & 17.)
- Last post APPROX. May 6, 2006.
NIFTY - High School.
- Special Sale [on Boys' Trousers and Underwear]
** Listed as just "Special Sale." **
(17-year-old clothing salesman gives special personal
attention to High School and College students,
motivating the young customers to buy lots of clothing.
Ages 14 to 25.)
- Last post APPROX. April 9, 2006
NIFTY - High School
SCOUT/CAMPING STORY
- Scout Campout Qualifying Competitions (Camping and
some incest. Ages 12 through 17.)
- Last post APPROX. Feb. 3, 2006.
NIFTY - Camping; Incest
BROTHER STORIES
- Teasing My Hot Little Brother
(Big brother gets curious; ages 17 & 15)
- Last post APPROX. April 11, 2006.
NIFTY - Incest.
- Eyes for My Hot Little Brother
(Little bro grows on big bro. Ages 16 to 18.)
- Last post APPROX. May 10, 2006.
NIFTY - Incest; Athletics
- Getting to Know My Hot Big Brother
(Chemistry for big and little bro; Ages 16 to 18.)
- Last post APPROX. March 24, 2006.
NIFTY - Incest; Athletics
- Little Brother Wanted it Bad
(little bro wants big bro; ages 17 & 15.)
- Last post APPROX. Jan 26, 2006;
NIFTY - Incest.
- Discovering My Little Brother (Brothers,
17 and 13 start to get along real well.)
- Last post APPROX. Nov. 14, 2005.
NIFTY - Incest.
ADULT-YOUTH STORIES
- Boiz New Age School of Sexual Education
(Ages 13 to 20 something. A new type of
all-boys High School where sex rules. Mostly students
interacting, but the teachers, all young, also get into
the act. There is also a group of non-students meeting
secretly in the basement.)
- Chapter 2 posted APPROX. April 29, 2006.
NIFTY - Adult/Youth
- Boy Who Was Late for School
(A tender story. Ages 24 and 13)
- Last post APPROX. Jan. 8, 2006.
NIFTY - Adult-Youth.
- Finding the Boy Who Stole My Heart (A kind
of love story. Ages 22 and 15.)
- Last post APPROX. Oct. 9, 2005.
NIFTY - Adult-Youth.
DAD-SON INCEST STORY
- My Son Drives Me Crazy (Tender dad and son.)
- Last post APPROX. Oct. 8, 2005.
NIFTY - Incest.
"NO PAIN NO GAIN" STORIES
- Teaching My Son a Hard Lesson (NO dad-son sex so far.
I'm still debating with myself on that subject.
Some paddling and orgasm denial. Dad teases and
spanks his 16 y/o son; both get aroused. Things
get hot when a 13 and 19 y/o take over "processing"
the 16 y/o. Ages 13 to adult.)
- Last post APPROX. March 14, 2006
NIFTY - Incest; Athletics
- Spankin High School Club Initiation
(High school ages. Later, some college guys.
Some soccer action. Some love.)
- Last post APPROX. Dec. 4, 2005.
NIFTY - High School; Athletics.
(Please note there are 2 titles with the words "Spankin' High" in them. When you write, be sure to let me know which story you read. Sorry, I didn't think of that when I picked the titles.)
- Getting it Hard at Spankin' High
(A discipline-school story; ages 13 to 19.)
- Last post APPROX. March 17, 2006.
NIFTY - Authoritarian.
- Frat Initiation Hell Week (Ages 13 to 22.
Not as grueling as first meets the eye.
Most characters are of college age. The
younger characters do some teasing, only.)
- Last post APPROX. Nov. 7, 2005.
NIFTY - Authoritarian.
LAST POST DATES good as of May 13, 2006, and may be off by several days either way. ACTUAL POST DATES may be LATER, by the time you read this, because new chapters of the listed stories may have been posted since this was written.
Thanks, Dennis StoriesNew@Yahoo.com