Treville

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

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

Email comments to him at silenusawoken@yahoo.com

A Fictional Establishment

Treville Youth Correctional Training Camp, Tennessee

PART ONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you get that" he called out.

"Yeah, I did" I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huah", the lads shouted back.

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

"Huah", the lads shouted back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Sir", he replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"In the bunkhouse to witness punishment; now!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Both", I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What then," I asked.

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

"How's that?" I asked.

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

"What do you do", I asked him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes Sir," I replied.

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

"That is correct, Sir" I told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What now?" I asked Kurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an interesting first day!

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

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