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The story contains descriptions of cp, and other homo-erotic acts, please leave this site if that type of material is illegal for you to read either because of age or location.
This is another part by Stephen so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
Chris Johns
Treville Youth Correctional Camp
Part 9
by Stephen
Roger, already naked, had hopped up onto the examination table without question when instructed and I was increasingly beginning to feel that this new arrival to the Camp was a sub gay boy who rather liked the abuse dished out at the Camp.
Although he was mildly defiant on arrival, it was little more than unfamiliarity with the Camp rules of instant obedience and the requirement to address the Instructors as Sir at all times. Nevertheless, it had earned him a spanking with the paddle, after which he was a model of compliance; and he had left looking happy and excited after the quasi-medical he had undergone, rather than totally "shell-shocked" as the process was planned to achieve. Apart from the anal examination, cock and testicle measuring and semen extraction all designed to totally humiliate the new arrivals, cadets received a Number One, close-cropped haircut, and got their pubes shaved.
Roger was well aware that this was standard practice and had hopped onto the table as if eager. What he wasn't aware of was that the Doc was already on his was to take a look at the tight foreskin which he could not retract, and that he had already been put down to be circumcised. This "minor" operation was performed under a local anaesthetic, and as such was done in the medical room where we were now. Since it did not involve hospitalisation, his parents would not be informed until sometime afterwards; parental consent having already been obtained for minor surgical treatment in the standard admission forms; though most parents would have assumed that to be for the odd cut that required a few stitches. Well Roger would surely be "cut" and require quite a few stitches, but I thought it best not to alarm him, so placing a towel on the examination table, I told Roger to stretch out on it, and dutifully he obeyed.
On the ceiling above the end of the table was screwed a solid looking metal track with steel cubes at either end into which foot stirrups could be screwed. Kurt had shown me these on a previous occasion, and I thought this an appropriate time to try them, and took them from the cupboard.
Roger watched with interest as I withdrew them from the cupboard. About a metre long, the steel tubes were threaded at one end so as to screw into the cubes on the track, whist at the other they had the stirrups on a wide leather belt; both the length of the tubes and the stirrup belt were adjustable. I placed the telescopic bracing bar over one tube and screwed it to the ceiling, then did the same to the other. It now hung down like an H – "this will be more comfortable for you Roger," I said, "you can put your feet in the stirrups".
I lifted first his left food into the wide leather loop and secured the buckle, then did the same to the right – actually it did look quite comfortable, apart from the fact that it lifted Roger's arse slightly. I released the lock on the centre bar while I pushed the vertical bars further apart and Roger's legs spread wider and he lifted his arse higher.
I filled the stainless steel bowl with hot water and placed it on the side table along with the shaving gel. "King of Kings, menthol shaving gel" I read. I placed the shaving brush next to it and took the razor and strop from the cupboard.
Roger looked apprehensive as I opened the old fashioned "cut throat" and ran its blade up and down the strop. SHIT, I would be too, the thought of that razor sharp naked blade shaving your balls would terrify any boy, a sudden cough and it could take your nuts off. When I was satisfied that it was sharp, I put the razor down and looked at Roger – he smiled weakly back up at me.
"Now to soap you up," I said breezily, and dipped the shaving brush in the hot water, transferring copious amounts of hot water all over his pubes and allowing it to run down between his legs. The brush I noticed was remarkably stiff, the bristles more like those of a cheap hogs hair paintbrush, than the soft badger hair shaving brush my Father used back home. I squirted some of the menthol shaving gel on Roger's pubes and set to working it into a good lather, but swiftly moved down, all round his now rampant cock, to lathering his balls.
I guessed the menthol shaving cream and the brush were Kurt's idea – I could tell the latter was home made despite its "traditional" look. It even had some bristles in the middle that looked as if they could have come from a yard broom, and when I began lathering Roger's balls with it he began hollering and kicking up a real fuss, though whether from the menthol or the rough bristles I couldn't tell. But, I carried on 'til his balls were well lathered, and then some more just for the fun of it. I decided that he might need to be shaved twice – kicking up such a fuss; and his cock looked as if it would explode it was so hard.
I placed the blade of the razor flat on the side of his thigh, so that he could feel the cold steel, and he shivered; then, holding his cock down, I placed the razor's edge close up at the base of his penis, and held it there. Then, in one quick movement ran it all the way up to his belly button, taking all the pubes on the right side off. I probably have taken them all in one stroke, but it was more tantalising to take only half, and to admire the contrast, and the left hand size of his pubes disappeared with the next sweep of the blade, but his cock was more troublesome. Lathered and slippery, it needed to be held in first one position, then another, as slowly I ran the blade up every side, taking maybe a dozen sweeps to work my way round his shaft, carefully rinsing the blade after each sweep.
I stood back and admired my handiwork. Where once there had been a small clump of curly black hair, Roger was now as smooth as a baby; only his balls remained with a trace of fluff. I reached up and adjusted the rod between the stirrups, stretching Roger's legs wider apart; forcing him to lift his arse higher and push his balls up. I took his ball sac in my left hand, my finger and thumb circled above his nuts, and I closed my fist, stretching his balls and stretching the skin tight. I squeezed them down further, until the skin was so tight his balls looked as if they might pop, before running the blade over them, but I didn't want to nick the lad. Then, to be double sure, I shaved each ball separately the same way, before stretching them up and shaving the underside of his sac.
Shaving Roger's balls took even longer than his cock, and did require a further application of the shaving gel, before I was completely satisfied. It was after lathering them for the second time, and round his butt hole, in preparation for shaving this too, that on stretching and squeezing his balls Roger suddenly bucked and shot a jet of spunk all over his newly shaved belly. He was lucky I wasn't holding the razor, the stupid boy. I was so annoyed, I brought my other hand down in a fist on those tight little eggs of his, feeling them squash like rubber balls, but even as he screamed his cock fired off another jet.
He lay there rocking from side to side and moaning quietly while I cleaned the soap and spunk from him. While he recovered I changed the water, then unhooking his feet from the stirrups I told him to kneel on the table while I shaved his arse, and that if there was any more inappropriate behaviour he would be feeling the razor's strop on his arse besides the blade.
Carefully I shaved Roger's arse cheeks and round his butt hole, and then the job was done. Roger had done as bidden, but Kurt had emphasised the benefit of ensuring that new cadets were spanked frequently on arrival, and kneeling with his butt up high his arse just invited another spanking.
"How are you feeling now?" I asked him.
"OK," he replied.
"OK, SIR!" I shouted – "failure to address staff as Sir, warrants five licks, Cadet"
"Yes, Sir" Roger whispered.
"Speak up Cadet, I can't hear you."
"YES SIR!" he repeated, this time loudly.
"Then stay as you are," I said.
Handling the thick leather razor strop when sharpening the razor had made me think how well suited it was for laying hard across a boy's butt, and I relished the opportunity now presented. The strop was about two feet long and three inches broad and made of thick brown leather. It had a nice wooden handle at one end, and I guessed that I was not the first to use it as I now intended. Picking it up, I felt my cock harden in my jock as I positioned myself behind, and to the side of Roger.
"Push your butt out, and count them out," I said to Roger, as I swung my arm back; taking aim. Roger's butt still showed the signs of his earlier paddling, but it looked as if it could do with some more, so I swung the strop hard and fast, aiming at the middle of his upturned arse. The noise of the strop exploding on Roger's arse shattered the silence. "AAAHHH!" he yelled, and rocked forward on his knees; the razor strop left a broad red band across the centre of his arse.
"One, Sir!" he called out.
I aimed the second strike to hit lower, on his sit-spot and delivered another resounding smack. "AAAHHH!" Roger screamed, and instantly, as if by magic, another broad band turned a deep red. "Two, Sir", Roger called in a quavering voice.
I aimed again at the centre of Roger's arse and swung the strop. It whistled through the air and hit with a loud "CRACK!" Again, Roger screamed out. "Three, Sir" he wailed. The centre of Roger's arse took on a deeper shade of red.
"Push you butt out, Roger" I said. Roger was panting and I could see the beads of sweat rolling down his chest and back, but he pushed his arse up and back. Bringing the strop back, I aimed the fourth stroke to be higher and let him have it. It hit his butt about an inch below his backbone, covering the un-spanked area. His whole butt was now coloured red by the spanking. Roger let out a loud sob - "Four, Sir" he gasped.
"Keep that butt pushed out," I said, "or you'll get extra."
Dutifully, Roger pushed his bright red bottom up high, as if he was begging for it to get strapped. I aimed for the centre again, and brought the strop down hard and fast.
Roger let out a fearful yell and bucked forward, sticking his arse even higher as he buried his face in the pillow on the table. His whole body was shaking and I could hear him sobbing. "F-F- Five, Sir" he managed to utter between sobs.
I stood next to him and ran my hand across his rump, feeling the heat from its recent blistering. To my surprise Roger grabbed by other arm and hung on to it, drawing me closer; then falling on his side he used both hand to pull me towards him. He lay there hugging my arm and sobbing quietly, as I continued to caress his tender arse.
After a few minutes, I disengaged myself and started to clear up, emptying the shaving bowel and clearing away the mess. Scarcely had I finished packing away the shaving gear when the telephone rang. It was the Reverend Jackson to inform me that the "Good Doctor" had just arrived and he would be bringing him straight down.
I told Roger to stand to attention facing the window. The first thing to greet the Reverend and the "Good Doctor" as they entered the room would be the sight of Roger's well spanked teen butt. I had no doubt that both gentlemen believed in strict discipline, and I was not mistaken.
I heard the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor and then without warning the door was flung open and in walked the Reverend Jackson and his companion. I could tell straight away from his powerful build and the way he carried himself that he was a military man. Both men took in the sight of Roger's bright red buttocks as he stood facing the window, but the Reverend wasted no time: "Let me introduce you to Major Forrest, late surgeon to the United States Marine Corps," he said.
I extended my hand "An honour to meet you, Sir," I said. The Major shook my hand
"Call me Doc," he said.
"This is the English instructor, Paul, I was telling you about, Joshua," the Reverend said – Joshua, I mused, an apt name for the Camp's visiting circumciser.
"Well, son, turn round and come stand here, and let me examine you," the Doc said.
Roger turned round and walked to stand in front of the Doctor. "I hear you have a tight foreskin and can't retract it?" he said to Roger.
"Yes Sir, I mean no Sir," the boy said, flushing, "I mean I can't retract it".
The Doctor reached down and took hold of Roger's penis and lifted it up. As he continued his examination I could see it start to thicken and begin to swell. The Doctor grasped Roger's testicles and stretched them down, causing Roger's cock to get partially hard before he tried easing Roger's foreskin back. Roger winced.
"Does that hurt, boy?" the Doctor asked.
"Yes, Sir," Roger replied.
"We can't have that, young man," the Doc said, looking at each of us in turn, "you'll be better off without that tiresome foreskin, best get it done straight away".
Roger paled, "But ..." he wailed. The Reverend immediately cut his protest short.
"We have your parents consent for all minor surgery; there will be no buts," the Rev. Jackson said firmly.
Roger looked at me for help, but I returned a cold look.
The Doctor teased Roger's semi-hard cock again, "That's a severe case of phimosis, which will certainly lead to severe posthitis, if not treated," he said, looking into Roger's eyes.
Roger looked scared.
"That's a tight foreskin leading to a severe inflammation," he added. "But, it is a dangerous condition, that needs to be treated" he said.
Roger relaxed some.
"The Langerhans cells in the preputial sac, behind the corona glandis, that is the space behind the ridge on your glans, which you have never seen, is particularly susceptible to infection from bacteria feeding on the smegma, and that this could lead to cancerous cells. So hygiene is vital; you be better off getting `cut', son; and besides, one day you might get married – this isn't gonna be much good to your wife like this; the sooner it be done the better." the Doctor said.
Bloody Hell! It scared me and it sure scared Roger. What was the choice – lose his foreskin or risk losing his cock from cancer! And anyway, the Doctor was right, how could the boy ever penetrate a girl, even if he wanted to, with a foreskin like that – it would be ripped off.
Roger looked at the Reverend as if seeking confirmation about the proposed course of action. The Reverend Jackson drew himself up and slowly began to intone the Biblical texts he knew by heart so well: "And God said, I will establish my covenant between me and thee, and thy seed after thee, - an everlasting covenant; and this is my covenant, which ye shall keep." His voice quavered and then rose in volume, "Every man child among you shall be circumcised; and ye shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin; and it shall be a token of the covenant betwixt me and you".
His voice rose once more, as if he were addressing the congregation from the pulpit, the Reverend looked possessed, "Circumcise therefore the foreskin! Deuteronomy, 10:16", he shouted; and "Circumcise yourselves to the LORD, and take away the foreskins! - Jeremiah, 4:4", he added. Finally calming down, though with the spittle round his mouth he relaxed, though he had a demonic glint in his eyes and still looked like a man possessed.
The Reverend turned and stared at me. Dumbfounded, I could only utter "Amen!" hoping he was not addressing his remarks to me as well as Roger. I was quite attached to my foreskin, and visa-versa, but I became acutely aware that my Father had signed a similar medical consent form, as next of kin, along with various other bits of paperwork. Fortunately, having calmed down, the Reverend declared that he had work to do and bid farewell, wishing us "good luck".
With the Reverend gone, some of the tension left the room, and Roger co-operated with the Doctor by getting on the table when requested, and placing his feet in the stirrups.
"Well son," the Doc said, addressing Roger, " can you get hard for me, I need to see you hard to know where to cut." Roger looked embarrassed, and far from getting hard, his penis appeared to shrink visibly.
The Doctor reached between Roger's legs and grabbed the boy's testicles in one hand and his penis in the other. Stretching the boy's ball sac down he began gently masturbating Roger, but to no avail. Seeing Roger's cock refuse to get hard, the Doc closed his fist forcing Roger's balls to the bottom of his sac, so that they looked like two walnuts and began pressing his thumb hard into each ball in turn, as he continued to masturbate the boy. Roger gasped, but after a few minutes of this treatment his cock steadfastly remained limp.
"Well we ain't got all day, boy," the Doc said, and reaching inside his back he withdrew a small tube of cream and applied some to Roger's penis, massaging it in.
"This is `Alprostadil', I guess you're embarrassed and can't get erect, but this will do the trick," he said.
It sure did, within a minute Roger was spouting a massive erection which threatened to rip his foreskin free without the need of the surgeon. With painstaking care, the Doc drew a line with a felt tip pen round Roger's cock at the base of his glans.
I watched fascinated. "Can you circumcise him with his penis erect," I asked Joshua. "I could", the Doc said, "but I prefer not to – can you phone for some ice".
I did as I was bidden, and while we waited, the Doc told me that in the early days of the British Raj it was common for captured British soldiers to be forcibly circumcised. Warren Hastings, who was later to become Governor of India, was circumcised in such a manner as a young army officer along with several hundred other prisoners. The Doc said that in his memoirs Hastings described how he and the men were fed an aphrodisiac drink, buggered, then masturbated and finally circumcised whilst still fully erect!
"I kid you not," he said, "it's all perfectly true, it was common practice". "Sir David Baird, another of your war heroes of the time suffered the same fate, that's why it became a rule that those serving there got cut before they left England, and your upper classes retained the tradition."
There was a knock on the door and I accepted the bag of ice sent from the mess kitchens, and passed the bag to the Doctor. He smacked it hard into Roger's balls.
"There you go, son, that will take that troublesome erection away," he said, tucking Roger's cock under the ice pack as well.
"Yeah," he drawled, "I don't like to cut a boy when he's hard, you can't take enough skin off, and that don't look nice," he said. I like a nice high-tight' job on a boy like this, though on some boys the Reverend insists its real low'- I do a good job," he added.
"What was it they gave the soldiers to get them erect," I asked by way of conversation while we waited.
"Probably Yohimbi and Horny Goat Weed," he replied, "they didn't have `Alprostadil' in those days," he said dryly. "But, those herbs sure work, one kid on base a few years ago bought some and took a massive dose, was hard for twenty-four hours – serves him right." The Doc lifted the ice pack, then returned it. "He's about ready now," he said.
The Doc filled a syringe, holding it up to the light as he measured the quantity of anaesthetic, and gave Roger an injection at the base of his cock. Then he wiped off the water from the ice pack with a sterile bandage, before donning rubber surgical gloves and swabbing the area liberally with antiseptic, applying it round the whole of the groin. Roger yelped as the liquid ran down his recently shaved balls.
"This might hurt a mite," he said, "best you bite on this," and with that the Doc rolled up the bandage he had used as a cloth to wipe Roger's groin, and placed it in his mouth. Then, the Doc buckled the two body straps tight across Roger's chest.
Roger's penis had returned to a full but flaccid state, and carefully the Doc worked his finger in under the foreskin. He paused a moment, as if checking then began pushing his finger deep inside as he rolled the loose skin of the shaft down. Roger screamed in his gag, despite the anaesthetic; the Doc was really pulling the skin on Roger's cock down, and it looked as if his shrivelled cock would be forced up inside him. Having stuck practically a whole finger up his foreskin, the Doc skilfully clamped it.
The Doc picked up a pair of surgical scissors and inserting the under blade inside Roger's foreskin made a decisive snip, cutting it the whole length to the clamp; Roger screamed despite his gag, but the Doc carried on.
I couldn't help thinking that it was like some kind of battle-field operation, the lad strapped down biting on a bandage – like something out of the Civil War. But, then I guess those Southern surgeons be made of stern stuff. Less than 150 years ago, over sixty percent of the Confederate army had been killed or wounded before they conceded defeat and, despite the appalling condition and lack of anaesthetics, three-quarters of the wounded had survived amputations. Besides, Muslim boys get circumcised without any anaesthetic – Roger would just have to be brave.
I watched fascinated as the Doc explained what he was doing, giving a running commentary, describing how the mucosa contained the sensitive cells with lots of nerve endings, and how, in Roger's case this would be retained and stretch up the shaft of his penis, making a tight "high-cut" circumcision. Adding that, all Negro boys and cadets caught masturbating got the opposite, a tight "low cut" which removed all the sensitive skin, plus he removed the frenum as well. Roger was making grunts and whimpering noises as he bit into his gag, but I guessed that the anaesthetic and his own endorphins had kicked in and that he was coping OK with it.
I admired the Doc's skill, and told him so, and he told me that he was well practised in the procedure, adding that in `Nam he had had to patch up a lot of young GI's with dreadful mutilations caused by stepping on booby traps, designed to injure rather than kill. "Sometimes we'd get our own back," he said, "surprising the number of Viet- Cong who'd come in with smashed up balls after interrogation," he added.
"Really," I said.
"Yep, usually the younger kids; the older ones just got thrown from the choppers into the sea, but if they were young and cute looking the CIA had a use for them."
"What was that?" I asked.
"Well," replied the Doc, "it's still secret, but some of our friends in the Middle East would do anything for a castrated slave-boy." "We had a little supply line going to some of those Arabian sheikhs, we were friendly with,"
"They'd use kids to walk up to a group of GI's and lob a grenade, if we caught the boy he'd be in for the chop," he said grimly "they pretty soon caught on, there must have been rumours, that's why they switched to using girls," he added.
I was desperate to hear more, but the Doc was concluding the operation and, having finished the stitching wiped away the blood and gently bandaged Roger's cock.
"You'll be sore for a few days. I'll leave you some pills to help ease the pain, and come and check you in a couple of days. Now you get off to bed, now, you're excused exercise till I see you again." he told Roger.
With some care we helped Roger off the table and I arranged for a couple of cadets to help him back to the bunkhouse. I would like to have chatted longer to the Doc, but he said he had to get going. So after bidding him a safe journey I decided to go to the gym to see how my troop were getting on with the wrestling practice.
Sponsors Day was only a couple of days away and, by tradition, the wrestling competition was one of the highlights of the day. One thing was for sure, Roger would not be competing.
to be continued
Stephen is firmly back in control of Treville again. I will try to keep him writing but if the gap is too long I will slide in some more parts that don't disrupt the story.
Comments to Stephen or myself, Chris Johns, are always welcome.