Archive;'Boyz Brutal Training School #04'{Danny Meyer}( MB, BB, slow, bd, sm, cbt, tort, anal, inc, twink, ws )[]
BOYZ BRUTAL TRAINING SCHOOL - Chapter 4 _______________________________________
by Danny Meyer
Copyright (C) August 15, 2000 by Danny Meyer
Send comments to Danny, at: sittinhome@hotmail.com _______________________________________________________________
WARNING: This entire story is fantasy. It is not a reflection of life, nor should anyone attempt to re-enact, or recreate any of these actions or incidents, which are entirely fictitious, and potentially dangerous.
This fantasy was written for gay men and women. Some bi men and women may also enjoy it, as well as some straight men and women, who are curious. If you do like male to male sex, and torture, read on. This is a fictional story. None of it ever really happened. None of these people are real people. The story is all about sex, and pain, with young adult men, and younger men in their teens, from 13 to age 22. So, just assume, all of the action is teen-to-teen, or teen-to-man. In other words, only gay stuff. The cast is 100% all male. If you like, and you're allowed to read this, go for it. If not, have a good day. No hatred or prejudice here.
ALL NAMES USED IN THIS STORY ARE WHOLLY FICTITIOUS, AND BEAR NO CONNECTION WITH, RESEMBLANCE, OR RELATION TO, ANY REAL PERSON. ANY SUCH SIMILARITY IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL, AND UNINTENTIONAL.
***** CHAPTER 4 *****
APPEARING FOR THE FIRST TIME, IN THIS CHAPTER:
Jason: An 18 year-old student, facing punishment
Willis: A master, for Jason
Bobby: A 13 year-old cum boy
Dr. Tormadillo: Day shift medical doctor
APPEARED IN A PREVIOUS CHAPTER:
Gordon: Owner of the training school
John: About to be hired to work at the school
Steve: (Stephen), a 15 year-old, current initiate
Brian: Support boy, 14, for Steve, during the initiation
Gregory: A Master, who plays a part in the initiation
Michael: Cute, 15 year-old, current initiate, who looks 9 or 10
Peter: Cute, 15 year-old initiate, who looks 17
AT THE END OF CHAPTER THREE....
The incredibly pathetic cries of the two young cum boys cut, morbidly, through the air. They screamed, squealed and shouted, so vigorously, I thought their thin, high voices would fail completely, as their tortured, little faces flushed an ominous, dark red.
A roar of cheers and hoots went up from the audience.
Another macabre, bone-chilling outcry pierced the walls of the auditorium, from the distant chamber, beyond.
"Take them back to their posts," the MC said, heartlessly.
(Chapter 4) - Initiation interrupted
I continued to explain things to John, as the activities progressed, giving him as much background as possible, without becoming a distraction, from the erotic adventures before us.
The familiar sounds of wood, crashing against the swinging metal doors, at the back of the theatre, told me that the initiation would soon come to a halt, temporarily.
A large St. Andrew's cross, (normally known as "the cross,") was brought through the metal, back doors, and carefully rolled down the aisle. The giant X was a stern, but welcome sight, to the titillated onlookers, who 'oooed,' and 'ahhed' appropriately.
At this point, our day-shift doctor, Dr. James Tormadillo-- affectionately known as 'Dr. Torq,' among the more sinister masters--made a discreet appearance on stage, beckoning the two, freshly tortured cum boys, to join him in his examining room, for an inspection. The anxious faces of the agitated pair's, six, remaining, on-stage colleagues, prompted the doctor to invite them, as well, to watch--if not, assist in--the procedure.
"Procedure, Gordon. Ha! I can imagine what that is."
"You can, John? Then you're doing quite well, and catching on better than I thought," I said, dryly, with a bemused smile.
In the examining room, several of the other cum boys apprehensively assisted the doctor in restraining the two, still breathless, cum boys, against the wall, in a standard spread- eagle position.
"You know boys," the doctor said, innocuously, to the battered pair, "Your cocks and balls took a little bit of a slap, back there."
The good doctor had a way of understating things.
"Yes, sir," the trembling boys replied.
"I have to examine them to make sure none of your feeling in them was damaged, so I need to test them, do you understand?"
They understood all too well, as these two little ones had seen this procedure before, and were not relishing the idea of having it performed upon themselves.
"Yes, sir," the frightened pair replied, as their renewed status as victims was dawning, dishearteningly, upon their youthful minds.
The two 13 year-olds made a remarkably erotic sight, helpless and frail as they were.
"I see your nice little cocks are still hard," Dr. Tormadillo said, to no one in particular. "But I think little Bobby should suck and lick them, anyway, and get them nice and wet, for me." This would only increase the pain of the upcoming procedure--moisture commonly having an amplifying effect, on the tactile response.
Bobby wasted no time, getting on his knees, and complying with the doctors order.
"Uhhh," one cum boy uttered, sensually, as his swollen, erect prick was bathed in soothing, wet warmth--partially allaying the lingering pain of his recent ordeal. Bobby slipped his tongue under the foreskin of the beautiful little boy's penis, causing squeals of immature delight to fill the room.
As Bobby worked to pleasure the two cum boys--and of course, wet their genitals, thoroughly--the doctor prepared his tools, in preparation for administering the impending examination. The mild-mannered, medical man had before him, a small leather apparatus, one for each boy. This could only be described as a leather pouch, that was perfectly shaped to fit, over and around a young boy's cock and balls. This seemed harmless enough, until one got a closer look, and began to see that the devices were fearfully lined with ferocious, short, sharp needles.
"These little probes, in the pouches, will help me see if you still have all your feeling, down there." Tormadillo spoke this well-rehearsed line, as if he were dispensing aspirin, to relieve a headache.
The pouches fit loosely, and the doctor was meticulous, as he cautiously applied them to the two young innocents--being careful to apply no pressure. The tips of the dreaded needles rested benignly, now, against the thin, sensitive boy-flesh.
As the doctor reached for his next tool, he bid Bobby to stand at attention, as all looked on. The tool was the familiar, ubiquitous "knee tapper"--a solid, thick triangle, used for testing reflexes--made of a heavy, fibrous material, with a nine inch handle attached to it.
The doctor gently grabbed one of Bobby's nuts, in his hand, and allowed the point of the triangle to fall, unsparingly, upon the immature testicle.
"OHhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" Shouted little Bobby, as he doubled over in pain, at the excruciating, direct hit to his young, sensitive nut.
"You see how a small thing can strike with a big force?" The doctor asked, meaningfully, as if narrating an instructional video.
The doctor's matter-of-fact attitude toward the agony he had just inflicted, on the young lad, had a chilling effect on the lot of them.
"Ow!! Ow! Ahhhh! Uhhhh... y-yes sir!" Bobby said, politely, with his chest heaving, as the sudden, massive, testicular pain convulsively squeezed all the air out of him, and cramped the muscles in his body.
"Now, Bobby, I think you should gag your two friends, here. I wouldn't want them to make any loud noises, that might scare the rest of you boys."
Doctor Tormadillo handed Bobby two, small, ball gags, and Bobby, trying to regain some sense of the use of his miserably strained muscles, went about installing the gags into the cute mouths of the fearful pair of cum boys.
As the doctor approached the pair, with his harmless-looking instrument in hand, the two unlucky lads' eyes widened in terror, as they knew exactly where this tool would strike their young, frail little bodies. They were both totally vulnerable, in their nakedness, bound against the wall, trembling, uncontrollably.
A few harmless-sounding thumps could be heard, as the doctor administered the blows to one boy, then the other, on the surface of the leather pouches. It all appeared to be quite painless-- unless one knew of the presence of the vicious pointed needles-- laced with an herbal mixture that increased the sensitivity of their already-overwhelmed penises and scrotums--hidden beneath the plain-looking, smooth, black leather--or until one heard the piercing, shouted, agonized responses, of the two 13 year-olds, to those awful, metal points.
The inevitable, powerful, youthful screams came in great volume, from the two small victims, inducing an overwhelming sense of horror in their remaining companions.
The too-small gags inadequately suppressed the cries of extreme pain, and the innocent band of six diminutive onlookers blushed, trembled, and shuffled uncomfortably. Being so close to the fierce torture, they recoiled, apprehensively--as if in fear of absorbing the grim torture themselves, by sheer proximity--so savage was the scene before them.
"Mmmmmmihhhhhhrrfff----oh God, NO!!"
"Ruuuuuuughhhhhhhhh!! OHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
The impassioned, energetic squirming of these two small lads, could only have been described as, 'incomparably arousing.'
These boyish observers, unconsciously, but protectively, placed their hands over their little genitals, to ease the experience of their vicarious pain, horrified as they were at the screaming sounds, and of the macabre image of those sharp, painful points, invisibly assaulting the most tender flesh of their unfortunate, pain-wracked companions.
After endless, unmerciful stabs of the blunt instrument, into the tormenting pouches, the doctor declared that the two boys had the requisite feeling in their genitals, and could be released from their suffering.
The doctor removed the pouches carefully, almost tenderly-- smiling warmly, at the boys, who were still frenzied and wiggling--writhing in pain, and complaining madly, with desperate, hopelessly unintelligible utterances of their thin, pubescent boy voices.
Amazingly, the ingenious design of the pouch, with its carefully engineered needle points, prohibited the production of visible markings, on the lads' most private organs--except for a few, microscopic pinpoints of redness, that were too small to bleed.
From a distance of only a few feet, there were no marks visible on the two, screaming boys.
Of course, as their parting experience, the doctor humiliated the lot of them, by paddling their already tortured butts, while several of the victim's companions were made to hold the jolting victims, one by one, as the slotted, hardwood paddle thwacked, and slapped angrily, at the pubescent, innocent little mounds of boy-flesh.
The distraught crew of eight boys could barely walk back to the auditorium, handicapped, as they were, by the excruciating results of these recent ministrations.
This was no ordinary St. Andrews Cross, I explained to John. It had one additional element. Jason Christopher was tied to it.
"Jesus, Gordon. That's the most incredible-looking kid I've ever seen. Is he for sale? I'll take him and retire, now."
"No--and you can't retire, you haven't started working here, yet," I said, half-laughingly.
The limping, hesitant gait of the eight returning cum boys distracted everyone, and their raw-looking, newly-reddened butts drew hoots and snickers from the knowing crowd, as the beaten boys climbed the stairs, and slowly took their former places on the stage.
By now, John and I had dispensed with pants and underwear, and as our gaze drifted to the eight, stiff-cocked, cum boys, I glanced over at John, and saw the erotic throb, of his own, impressive, exposed penis.
"Yes, definitely catching on," I muttered to myself.
"From the looks of those red butts, I'd say that tea you give them is totally amazing, Gordon," John said, unwittingly revealing the fact that he was inspecting the cum boys' precious- looking, erect, little dicks.
My eyes returned to the sensuously naked, Jason Christopher, and were, again, as fixed upon the striking young lad, as John's were.
I was concerned, seeing Jason on the cross, because I rather liked Jason, who not only seldom misbehaved, but was practically a model student--an icon--and a fine, young submissive.
I was very aware of the fact that, while Jason was well liked by all, so to speak, there were a couple of masters who couldn't wait to pounce on the boy--in effect, lying in wait for him. Being intolerant of that kind of thing, I was keeping an eye on those masters. One more wrong move, on their part, and I was getting rid of them.
All in all, I didn't like the smell of this, for Jason's sake. My hand inched, unconsciously, toward the red, "All Stop" button- -a simple device, that sounded a horn in the auditorium, signaling that whatever was in progress at the time, must cease, immediately--a power I seldom needed to use. I could hardly use it now, as there was no action on the floor.
Jason Christopher--barely 18 years old--essentially the star of my school, because of his stunning good looks, near perfect attitude, totally open, child-like innocence, and willingness to help others--was now strapped, helplessly, to the giant, gruesome symbol of grave torture.
Jason had signed a new contract, with us, two weeks ago, on his 18th birthday, essentially giving his body over to us. He would no longer be needing a safeword. He had almost no experience, in the outside world, and the adorable boy would be hard pressed to fend for himself, outside the walls of our school, where he had lived from the tender age of eleven.
Although the rule of 'no permanent damage' applied to all of our boys, we did get considerably rougher with boys eighteen and up.
"Gordon," John gasped, Jason started here at the age of ELEVEN? Dammit! I thought you only accepted boys 13 and up."
"We make exceptions--especially when they are as good looking as this one--but we don't attempt to train them, that young. We sometimes take in hard luck cases, such as Jason's, when he was 11, and house them in a special area, away from the other students, until they are of age.
"I personally did most of Jason's tutoring." I said, proudly. "Since tutoring is optional, I was impressed that the boy even wanted it. As it turned out, he was an excellent student."
Jason was 5 foot 9, 140 pounds, (175 cm, 63 Kg), blonde hair, blue eyes, naturally hairless, with the exception of the appropriate mild patches of hair, in his slender armpits, and of course, around his sweet-looking genitals. He was beyond cute, possessing an Adonis quality that was quite indescribable.
Jason was sought after by boy-lovers and man-lovers alike--so universal was his appeal. Even the lad's feet were so perfectly formed, they too, seemed to exude sexual pleasure, and were often kissed and licked by his tormentors, during even the most rigorous of training sessions.
Of course, Jason's beautiful, provocative penis, aside from the more painful training, had received many a teasing lick and suck- -to where the poor boy was brought, countless times, to the edge of orgasm, and left hanging, so to speak--breathless and heaving for air--for weeks at a time, with very little break from the relentless licking and sucking--his sore, swollen nutsack and fluid-drenched penis, having so often been sufficient testament to his monumental, frenzied frustration, and unsatisfied, burning sexual desire. I suspected some master had overdone this, forcing the boy to violate the rule, and touch himself, in his overwhelming need for release.
The hue of Jason's thin, silky pubic hair was so well matched with his exquisite, golden skin-tone, that the mild threads adorning his beautiful, boyhood, were nearly invisible. From where I sat, Jason's boyhood appeared to be a very appropriate, somewhat thickened, length of about seven inches, (18 cm).
Jason was the consummate boy-man. Viewed one way, he was a very young boy. Viewed another, he was the perfect specimen of magnetic, later boyhood--nascent manhood--in dazzling, sumptuous, bloom.
Jason's nearly-grown muscles, though not bulked, were very well defined. His beautiful, erect penis looked arousingly enormous, against his perfectly proportioned, tantalizingly slender torso.
The gorgeous lad had been given a triple dose of our rather potent, hormone "tea" cocktail, which not only kept the sensuous boy-man erect, indefinitely, it also raised the level of his sexual desire, so much, that his precum streamed down the shaft of his penis, and dripped, steadily, from his smooth, semi-tight scrotum.
Jason turned his head, from left to right, looking nervously about, as if to find someone who would save him, from his grim fate, as he hung, helplessly, from the imposing, wooden X.
A bright beam, from one of the lights above, illuminated Jason's particularly fair, fine-textured, facial nap--giving him a translucent, glowing, angelic appearance, sufficient to raise the heartbeat of all present. As far as I knew, the boy had not yet been given permission to shave, although I could not imagine Jason requesting to do so. In spite of his nominal entry into near manhood, his so-called beard was non-existent. The virginal nap of his exquisite, youthful face was one of his more uncommon, irresistible features.
Light shone through Jason's translucent, perfectly formed, little ears, aiding in giving him his boyish look of supreme, young vulnerability.
As the crowd began to recognize who this was, and what Jason's presence on the cross signified, gasps of admiration and awe filled the room, along with low moans of shock and sympathy, knowing as they did, the fierce torture, that was about to be brutally administered, to this model of young maleness--of supreme, beautiful boyhood--respected and admired as he was, by all.
The rueful look on the poor boy's humiliated face--despite betraying his unavoidable, but momentarily suppressed horror-- nevertheless reflected his heavenly beauty, to the point where a bevy of cum boys was desperately summoned, to service the newly- aroused, young members of the audience.
Even some of the more hardened masters, were openly masturbating, at the back of the auditorium, making little or no attempt to hide, or separate themselves, from the small group that congregated there.
Watching Jason, intently, John seemed to be having palpitations, while I silently expressed my gratitude for possessing a strong heart--so striking was this incredible boy. Now if only I had superior endurance in the muscles of my right arm, not to mention my soon-to-be overworked cock, I should be quite content.
Possessing a rather unprofessional attachment for this extraordinary youth, I had to admit, that for once, I was not totally relishing the idea of seeing a beautiful boy, punished, however briefly.
I was relieved to see Master Willis come down the aisle. Willis was our most experienced and judicious master, and would preside over Jason, and be responsible for preventing his punishment from passing over a certain line, as well as to see to it the boy got his due torture, to the limit of his physical endurance. Although I knew they would put the boy in fierce pain, I retracted my hand, away from the red button, knowing that my favorite lad was in good hands, after all.
"Good hands, Gordon? You do have a way with words," John said, with an edge of fear, in his voice.
An unusual feature of this particular St. Andrew's cross was the addition of two horizontal beams, one across the shoulder area, and the second, across the knee area, for additional support of the "X" shaped device, to which, of course, the defenseless, blushing boy was tightly strapped. These supports were installed so the center portion of the cross could be removed, from behind, exposing a boy's vulnerable backside, and, of course, leaving it open to the tender touches of his master.
Glancing over at John, I could see he was as mesmerized, by young Jason, as I was, judging by the throbs of John's substantial erection.
"Well John, we must go to dinner now," I said, facetiously, but with a serious tone.
"Uhh, ...that's OK, Gordon," John, muttered, not taking his eyes off the boy on the cross, "I... think I want to... hang out here, for a while. You..."
My sudden burst of laughter interrupted John, who now realized that I wasn't budging from this spot, any more that he was.
"Jesus, Gordon! You're enough to give a guy a heart attack."
"I was testing your heart, John--saves the company on the high cost of medical examinations."
John resumed his former attentiveness to the heart-rending sight of the beautiful, naked boy, whose face twisted with fear--but whose penis throbbed, looking, for all the world, like it was inviting everyone in, for an orgy. Jason now looked down, at his own prominently displayed, seductive cock, watching it pulse-- tracing the sensual path of the inviting, wet tip, as it journeyed, rhythmically, toward and away from his temptingly tight, adolescent abdomen.
Several moans of teen orgasms and strange gurgles could be heard from the audience, now, as cum boys swallowed, furiously--their heads bobbing, to please their adolescent co-students.
"Damn, this is too much--uhhhhhhhhh!" John uttered, as his huge penis shot another impressive load onto the floor.
I went behind John, and rubbed his shoulders, for a few moments-- first, because I thought John was sexy as hell, second, to sooth him a bit, thirdly, to send the subtle, reassuring message that his orgasms were not only all right, but quite welcome, under these circumstances. Eventually John composed himself, and joined again, in the viewing, through the massive glass portal.
"Has the center of this cross been removed Gordon?"
"Yes."
"It doesn't look like it."
"That's because a spring-loaded paddle has been installed, over the place where the center portion was removed. That board you see, that looks like it goes almost all the way across Jason's butt? That's actually a spring-loaded paddle, and when that's pulled away and then let go, it swings back in place with incredible force, up to 84 miles an hour! (135 Km/hr). That's equivalent to seven times the force that little Stephen received, when Greg pounded his butt.
John whistled, in awe of what I had just told him.
"Gordon, wouldn't that split Jason's butt wide open--to take a whack, of that much force?"
"No, John. The weight of the paddle is just light enough, so that, while the sting and pain of the paddle is tremendous, the damage is minimal."
Master Willis had positioned the cross for maximum viewing by all, and had set the brakes on the large rubber wheels.
"Look who I found playing with his pee-pee, boys!" Willis said, with a mild flourish. Willis' use of the offensively childish term for the nearly-grown lad's sexual organ, added, immensely, to the gross humiliation of this unbelievably cute, popular boy.
A mixture of laughter and sympathetic groans emerged, from the onlookers, who, by now, were on a sort of unwritten waiting list, for the next available cum boy.
"He was playing with his dick, Gordon? That's the reason for all this? This gut wrenching..."
I explained to John, that masturbating was only one step below a cardinal offense, and by our rules, required IMMEDIATE and public punishment.
"You guys not only don't give a kid a break, but you look for excuses to punish these kids!"
"We do. But, you'll soon learn that attempted masturbation is a mortal sin, around here, John."
I explained to John that, to increase the fear, the master would carry out the punishment in shuddering silence.
Two masters appeared, and began the process of administering fifty phenomenal blows, with the built-in, spring-loaded paddle.
"WHACK!"
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggghh!!!"
The boy held his tongue, after his extraordinary reaction to that first surprising, mammoth blow--but his intense, agonized squirming, and contorted face, told me that the efforts of the masters were not wasted on Jason's tender behind.
"How the hell did he manage not to holler...," John said, rhetorically.
With this large a break, in the initiation, our special group of cum boys, was kept busy teasing and licking the frightened initiates, to keep their spirits and their cocks up. It was difficult to tell, whether the giver or receiver, of these sensual consolations, was enjoying the greater pleasure.
One of the assistant masters placed a small leather harness on Jason's genitals, forcing his nuts back, toward his rectum, and pushing downward, on his swollen penis, forcing it away from his abdomen, and into a more straight-out position.
I was astounded to see a thick maple paddle, in Willis' hands, as he began to strike out, viciously--slapping angrily at Jason's tight, unsuspecting boy-cock. I knew that this would be an excruciating experience, for the adorable, unfortunate lad.
"Rrrrrrrrrahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
The colossal sounds of pain-filled outcries and the incredible collisions of the cruel blows, filled the room, as the master pounded, relentlessly, from all directions, at Jason's sensitive organ. The poor lad--embarrassed as he was, at being the star pupil and now put into so humiliating a position--was screaming, helplessly, as the torture jolted through every nerve of the boy's jerking, squirming body.
The sounds of Jason's horrible screams, for help, depicting his agony, echoed off the walls of the theatre, in vain, creating a gruesome, but arousing atmosphere--as the staccato blasts of Jason's explosive cries synchronized with the swift, cruel rhythm of his tormentor.
At last, the offending organ was deemed sufficiently punished, and the ghastly, penile beating ceased. The assistant master quickly removed the leather harness, from the tortured boy's groin, and the reddened, angry-looking penis bobbed about, painfully.
I was more than horrified, when I then saw Willis pick up the dreaded ball squasher, and begin to place it over Jason's fragile, sensitive testicles. You could see the boy tense, badly. His mouth fell open, as if to speak--beg for mercy--and the quivering, fearful lad began to tremble, violently.
Alarmed whispers of, "Oh my God," drifted up to the boom mics, from our younger, frightened initiates, who had been versed in the tools of our trade, during their week in the chastity belts, and were overwhelmed with the sights before them.
The ball squeezing device slipped easily over Jason's nuts, and the master had just begun to turn the tightening screws.
As if it were on cue, the unfortunate boy in the mysterious room, well beyond the theatre, unleashed another round of his blood- curdling, pain-soaked wails.
The subsequent, eerie silence was accompanied by gulps of fear, and sympathetic moans of vicarious pain, from the young audience, as they watched Jason, frightfully anticipating the savage brutality that was rapidly approaching.
As the hardened, steel plates of the ball press pushed steadily towards each other--with Jason's young, delicate testes in between them--the shaking boy could not suppress a desperate, hopeless, whispered, "Oh God," of his own, at the anticipation of the unthinkable agony to come.
As the slowly moving plates began to touch Jason's smooth skinned, tender nuts, I thought I could make out some additional, whispered gasps, from the half-hysterical boy, but they were almost inaudible. The master, of course, could hear them clearly.
"...please... sir... not this... I'll do anything..."
The master shook his head, slowly--barely perceptibly--as the first contact of the plates made their slow, introductory, gentle kiss, upon the pain-sensitive contents of the sweet adolescent's scrotum.
"Please... just... kill me... instead, sir..."
Of course, that was impermissible.
"Jesus, Gordon, the poor kid!"
If you like this so far, or want to help me stay "up" to write more of this story, please drop me an email,* of any length, to: sittinhome@hotmail.com
You'll get better stories that way.
Thanks. --Danny Meyer
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