The young teenage boy trembled in fear. He had been in his cell for what seemed like an eternity. The village mayor, under the authority of the provincial governor, had ordered him to be interrogated, and he was terrified of what that might entail.
The youth, 14 years of age, had been caught by local police defacing a government building with spray paint. He and some friends had seen it as a harmless prank, the authorities of the Chinese communist government did not. Wang had been apprehended as he fled, but his friends had gotten away. The authorities wanted to know who his young accomplices were, hence the impending interrogation.
After spending the initial cold night in a small cell, he had been brought before the village mayor. The mayor was informed of the youngster's clandestine activities and was presented with evidence of his guilt, including a half-empty can of spray paint and law enforcement testimony. The mayor knew that the young man knew who else was involved, but the boy refused to betray his friends.
"Very well," declared the mayor sternly. "If you will not willingly talk, you will be interrogated."
In accordance with provincial law, delinquent youths like Wang could be admitted to a new program designed to rehabilitate them. The concept of the program actually had its origins in the United States. The Chinese, who were facing a youth crime problem of their own, were impressed with the success of America's Correctional Uniform Management program, or CUM, and had instituted their own version of the program with the help of American consultants. Thus was born the Special Provincial Uniform Rehabilitation Training program, or SPURT.
Wang had been transferred to the local SPURT facility earlier that morning. Despite his efforts at courage, the youth was anxious. The program's interrogator was known by reputation for extracting information the authorities desired. It was rumored that no one had ever withstood his methods for very long. The boy tried hard to remain strong and put on a brave front, but he knew the rumors well: no one could resist the program's methods.
The lad tensed as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. The door to his cell swung open and two guards entered. They grabbed the boy by the arms and dragged him into the hall. He was thus escorted down the corridor and through a large doorway leading to another room, the interrogation room.
"Ahh, the new boy, I see." The voice came from a man in dark red scrubs and a white lab coat -- the program interrogator. "Place him on the table," the man said in an emotionless voice and a gesture of his hand. The guards did as ordered, dragging the boy across the room to an examination table equipped with leather straps for his hands and feet.
The naked young teen was lifted by the guards onto the table where they firmly secured his wrists and ankles in the shackles. In less than a minute he was strapped down, his body pulled taut and spread-eagle by the guards. And with that the two guards left the room, closing the door behind them and leaving the boy alone with the interrogator.
The man had his back to the teen, apparently occupied with something else. "Do you know who I am?" he asked solemnly, but not really expecting an answer. "I am Assistant Director of this facility. My name is Mr. Kok. It is my job to extract information from you, specifically the names of your delinquent accomplices."
The boy momentarily shivered, his naked body exposed to the cool air. The man continued. "The challenge, you see, is to find the right motivation for each boy. Some respond to one thing, others another. But you..." he turned and looked intently at the boy. "I believe that you will require more -- how shall I say it? -- refined methods." A wry smile appeared on his face.
The interrogator stepped toward the boy, walking right up to the table. He stood there silently, looking over the teen from head to toe, taking in every square inch of his slender body. The boy couldn't help but notice that the interrogator's lips were pursed together as his eyes moved along the boy's body. The lad tried his best to control his breathing, putting on the bravest face he could.
"I have interrogated a number of adolescent boys your age. Fourteen, I believe? Ahh, I remember being that young. Yes, I believe I have just the thing for you. Trust me, dear boy, you will talk. Yes, you most certainly will!" he laughed.
The interrogator extended his hand, his fingers softly touching the boys bicep first, gently squeezing it as if to feel his muscles. The boy tensed slightly, trying to appear strong. The man's fingers slowly descended down to the boy's armpit. His fingertips ever-so-gently stroked the young lad's wispy armpit hair as if conducting a physical examination. The boy trembled slightly in response to the ticklish feeling. The man continued to move his hand along the boy's young body, taking the time to feel and examine every inch of him, even using his fingers to trace the outline of the boy's toned abdominal muscles.
Despite the fear of the impending interrogation, the boy was mortified to realize that he was becoming aroused. Unbelievably his youthful penis was beginning to stiffen. This did not go unnoticed to the facility interrogator.
"Hmm, what have we here?" he asked quizzically yet knowingly. The boy froze. He could only imagine what was prepared for him. "Don't worry," continued the interrogator. "I won't hurt it. I intend to use it." And with that his hand slid down the boy's body and gently grasped his hardening member.
The interrogator slowly ran his fingers along the length of the young boy's shaft, gently feeling their way from the base to the head. Upon reaching the head he gently wrapped his hand around it, slowly rotating his wrist to delicately stroke the head with a feather-light touch. The boy gasped in pleasure.
"Does that feel good, boy?" asked the interrogator with a wry smile. "I know it does. That's the point, you see." His eyes looked at the boy as the boy returned his gaze. "I suspect that you would not respond well to fear or forceful questioning, so I need to find another way with you. And you have given me that way, just as I suspected you would." The youth appeared confused.
"Let me explain," said Mr. Kok. "You will remain on the table while I methodically stroke your young penis. You will find my technique to be slow and cruel, excruciatingly so." A broad smile appeared on the man's face. "The key, you must understand, is to stimulate your adolescent member to the very edge of what you are able to endure...without letting you release." The boy's eyes opened wide. "Yes, my boy. I will keep you on the edge of release for as long as I have to. Maybe hours, maybe days. Who can say?"
The boy began to breathe heavier. At 14 years of age he knew full well how horny he could get. There were days when he would masturbate three times to relieve himself. He knew the overwhelming desire that his raging boner could produce, the irresistible urge to spurt sometimes more than he could bear. The thought of being erotically stimulated for hours, even days, was more than he could comprehend.
The interrogator's little speech had the desired effect, he observed. The poor boy was breathing heavy, his eyes and mouth wide open, and his adolescent cock stiff as an iron rod. This would be a productive day, thought Mr. Kok, productive indeed. The poor lad was caught somewhere between fear and anticipation -- fear of his impending interrogation on the one hand, anticipation of the erotic stimulation on the other. The interrogator smiled to himself, inwardly delighted at the adolescent's hopeless predicament.
With that the man began to lightly stroke the boy's turgid pole, always taking care to never go too fast. Up and down he went, at times his fingers barely touching the young lad's member, never deviating from his excruciatingly slow pace. But that was all it took. Within minutes the youth began to ooze precum, a sure sign that the method was doing its job.
The interrogator watched with sadistic satisfaction as the boy's eyes rolled back in his head, his lips slightly quivering. Yes, this was going to be an enjoyable day, he thought to himself. As one hand slowly stroked the adolescent's pole, the fingers of his other hand roamed around the boy's young body, sliding down to his scrotum and crotch, stroking his armpit hair, gently twirling his pubic hair. But through it all he continually focused his primary attention on the boy's young cock, his raging, throbbing cock.
Within a short time the youth was moaning softly yet audibly. "Ohh. Ugh. Mmm." Music to the interrogator's ears. What had started out as a light emission of precum was quickly becoming a copious flow. Yes, this kid was horny, so very horny. And it was only to get worse -- for him, at least.
As the minutes crawled by the interrogator ran his fingers gently along the boy's pubic area and onto his belly. He leaned in close so the young man would be sure to hear. "It can all be over, you know. Just give me the names of your cohorts and I will give you the release you so desperately desire," he whispered. "Think about it. All that tension in your young member, all that pressure and stress released in one explosive moment. Think of what that would feel like. Yes, boy, your pent-up seed erupting from your penis, spurting powerfully from your body through the air. Think of how amazing it would feel."
He was, damn, how he was! The boy was in sexual hysterics. The torment had only been going on for about an hour, but the young guy wasn't sure how much more he could endure. He was constantly pulling against his restraints but to no avail; he was firmly secured. He had even tried thrusting his hips upward into the interrogator's hand hoping that it would be enough to trigger his release. But alas the man had anticipated this and refused to play along, withdrawing his hand before the thrust was completed.
"Oh, God! Please, let me cum! Let me cum!" the boy pleaded in vain. Mr. Kok noted with a cruel glee that the poor boy had tears in his eyes. He also observed that his youthful body was drenched in sweat and his overstimulated cock was a deep red. Yes, the young fellow was experiencing a level of sexual frustration that he had never dreamed possible. And the interrogator had no intention of letting it end anytime soon.
At this point the interrogator unexpectedly bent down over the boy's leaking penis, extended his tongue, and carefully lapped up the boy's sexual secretions. "Ah, yes," he said wickedly. "We certainly don't want this to go to waste, now do we?" Mr. Kok had a taste for adolescent male fluid, it appeared. Although his tongue felt great, it was done in such a way so as to not allow the boy his desperately desired release. The interrogator was a master at his job, there was no question about it.
The boy began to doubt his resolve. Could he hold out? Was such a thing even possible? His young body wanted so desperately to ejaculate. In fact, that was all he wanted, all that occupied his teenage mind. His body was wracked with pleasure, all of it emanating from his erection. As he lay there helpless and at the mercy of a man who had no mercy, he realized that his cock was harder than it had ever been in his life. He was convinced that there was no sword forged in the ancient land that was harder than his prick at this moment. God, how he wanted to cum!
Suddenly the interrogator began to stroke the boy's cock faster. Could it be? he thought with a faint glimmer of hope. As the man's hand moved faster along the shaft and head, he leaned in to look the young boy in the eye. "Do you want this, boy? This is what you're craving, isn't it?" His hand continued the faster strokes, bringing the boy ever closer to the release he needed. "Just say it, boy. Give me the names and this all ends." The hand sped up.
The lad was ecstatic. Perhaps the interrogator would have mercy on him after all and allow him to spurt! Oh, God, please let it be!
Mr. Kok ran his hand more fervently along the boy's raging boner, rotating his palm around the sensitive head for added effect. The boy felt the start of an orgasm! Then suddenly the stroking stopped and the interrogator wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of the boy's cock, squeezing it firmly. The result was instantaneous -- the long-hoped-for orgasm stopped!
"No!!" screamed the boy at the top of his lungs, his adolescent voice cracking. "Oh, God! Please! Please!! Make me cum! I beg you, please, make me cum!!" The lad's sweat-drenched body writhed in agony on the table, his muscles tense as he struggled furiously against his restraints. But it was all to no avail. There was no escape and both he and the interrogator knew it.
"I am in need of a rest, my dear boy," said the man. "Let's take a break, shall we? When I return in one hour, perhaps you will be more cooperative." The man turned and walked out the door, leaving the poor, desperate boy to lie there for the next hour.
At the end of an hour the interrogator returned from his meal as promised. "So, have you used this time to consider your fate, young one?" he asked solemnly. Indeed the boy had.
As he lay there helpless and horny, he had arrived at a realization, however reluctantly. The rumors were true -- no one could resist the interrogator's techniques for long. Everyone broke. The boy looked up at the man, tears welling up in his eyes. "Yes, sir. I will give you the names."
The interrogator broke into a wide smile. "Excellent! You have made a wise choice, young man." He walked over to his desk and brought back a small recording device. "Very well, young lad, what are the names?" The boy, mentally and physically broken, reluctantly gave up the names. Mr. Kok called for a guard. "Here are the names of the boy's accomplices. Take it to the mayor and chief of police immediately." The guard complied and departed.
Once the guard departed with the information, the interrogator turned his attention back to the poor boy. "All right, young man, you have given me what I wanted, now I will give you what you want. You want to cum, don't you?" he asked somewhat sarcastically.
"Yes!" exclaimed the boy. "Yes! Please!!" he cried.
"Very well," answered the man. "In a gesture of respect for such a worthy opponent, I will give you a choice. Shall I finish you off with my hand and let your youthful seed fly through the air, or shall I finish you off with my mouth and swallow you? Ahh, decisions, decision," he mused. "What would you like, my boy?"
The young adolescent couldn't believe what he was hearing. He wanted to cum so badly that he never imagined having a choice. "S-swallow it!" the boy pleaded. "Please, s-swallow it!"
"As you wish!" replied the interrogator. He bent over the table and put his mouth on the young lad's hopelessly overworked penis and began sucking, slowly at first but quickly speeding up. He paid special attention to the youth's head, stimulating it mercilessly with his tongue. His efforts had the desired effect. The boy began to tremble, his body pulling in futility against his restraints, his hips beginning to thrust upward wildly. The boy approached his long-delayed orgasm like a wild animal. His adolescent penis throbbed and pulsed in the interrogator's mouth as the boy exploded in release.
"OHH!! OHH!! OHH, GOD!!! OHH, GOD!!! AAARRRGGGHHH!!!! AAARRRGGGHHH!!!" His screams echoed off the walls and throughout the corridor as his stiff prick unloaded a volcanic torrent of youthful semen into the interrogator's waiting mouth. Despite the man's best efforts he could only swallow so much. Neither had ever experienced such a massive release of semen. Both wondered if it had ever happened before or would ever happen again.
Finally it was over. The boy's body relaxed, his cries turned to whimpers, and his long-tormented penis went soft. While the interrogator had managed to swallow a significant amount of the boy's cum, he couldn't contain it all. It had dripped out of his mouth and onto the lad's pubic hair, coating him in his own white, sticky cream.
Mr. Kok stood upright and licked his lips, a satisfied look on his face. "I suppose I should tell you, boy, that once the names are delivered, your friends will be arrested and most likely admitted to the program along with you. That means you will be ejaculating alongside them very shortly, my boy! But I think I will personally oversee your rehabilitation. After all, it would be a shame to waste such a wonderful young cock -- and its delectable cum!"
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