Date: Fri, 31 Oct 2003 23:16:09 -0800 From: Tony Hoskins Subject: ballboy to boytoy Ballboy to Boytoy By Tony Hoskins Hazelhurst was a classic english parallel of `smalltown USA'; a satellite community served by fast electric railway service thirty miles from London. It consisted mainly of middle-class white-collar families with the usual leavening of wealthier upper-class management executives, the two groups easily distinguishable from each other by the difference in the times they left for the city each morning. Kenny Groves had just turned 15,was classically handsome and freckled with blondish hair and the marked poise that is obvious in any product of the British public school system which,of course,in the curious english way actually means private school system.He was quick-witted but still innocent of many of the ways of the world as evidenced in the fact that he tended to be slightly open- mouthed when not speaking. He had been farmed out for the summer to his great aunt and uncle,a retired colonel, who were both at loss to suggest how a boy his age might occupy the long hot summer days since their own lives were sedentary and far remote from the activities of the younger set.They knew however that the boy was quite a good tennis player. The english class system is a strange and mysterious thing that has never been completely defined nor described nor even understood but it is undoubtedly there.The principle that `its not what you know but who you know' on the other hand is universally recognized,practised and accepted the world over so it was not surprising that at a routine cocktail party for the upper set it was arranged for young Kenny to earn some extra pocket money working as a ballboy at the Hazelhurst tennis club with the added privilege that he could play all the tennis he wished. Kenny took to his duties easily; helping the groundsman mark out the lines on the three grass courts and tidying the dozen other clay ones when he was not actually acting as ballboy for those that were prepared to pay for one.He would collect the fees and turn them in to the office since he himself was paid a salary albeit a small one and was occasionally asked to make up a foursome himself. He became well-liked by all the members with his cheerful attitude and good manners.His lithe young body in his brief white shorts with smooth tanned legs drew many a glance and sometimes frank stares from many a young and not-so-young wife,not to say a surprising number of the male members but the mores of the time precluded almost all of them from contemplating any form of advances or hopes of more intimate contact with the boy but there were, unbeknownst to him, a few distinct exceptions. The foremost of these was Cynthia Rhys-Hamilton, a forty year-old rather petite wife of a wealthy stockbroker and the chatelaine of one of the wealthiest local families.She was accepted in the local hierarchy as the `queen bee' and many an up-and-coming young wife had learned by bitter experience that she was not a woman to be crossed. Cynthia was blond,always immaculately dressed,witty,charming when necessary, and had been the power behind her rather mediocre husband's meteoric rise to power and wealth.She was president and patron of many of the local organisations and charities. She was possessed of an uncanny sense of people's inner motivations and secret desires all of which she put to good use.She also happened to be the honorary secretary of the century-old tennis club. But Cynthia also had a darker side. She liked to be, and invariably was, `in control'.She could sense somehow if a man was gay,for example,and would very subtly let him know that she knew. She had seduced many men in her circle of friends as well as some of their wives, knowing full well that, besides the enjoyment of their bodies, their seduction put them in essence in her power. This was evidenced in that no rumour of her activities had ever seemed to become common knowledge and gossip concerning her was muted in the extreme and even then, most carefully and reluctantly expressed. Her mask of well-bred behaviour and politesse was just that. She would have made a great friend of the Borgias. One got the impression on meeting her that all was sweetness and light but one soon sensed that to cross her path was as dangerous as taking a king cobra for a pet. She would scheme and plot meticulously when she had some plan in mind and her preparations always paid big dividends. The tennis club was run by a fulltime manager with a capable staff and Cynthia's office and appointment were purely cosmetic. She sat there one day,smoking a black russian cigarette, looking out at the pleasant vista of the english countryside with the rooks cawing in the elms and listening to the `plung' of a firmly-hit serve return or the well-mannered approvals of a good shot..She caught sight of young Groves was it? Colonel Abernathy's nephew running for a mishit ball and kneeling again by the net. She took a pair of binoculars from the desk and focussed them on the boy.The game was going well not requiring him to retrieve any stray balls for the moment. He was on one knee by the net post and, increasing the magnification to its highest power, she was provided with a delicious view up the loose legs of his shorts, of his white briefs and the swell of a substantial bulge therein before the tight hems curved away under his crotch to the beginning of his obviously rather sweet little bum. Cynthia's mind started racing; she hadnt had a teenage lover in years and had always enjoyed the prospect of perverting the innocence of youth. She recalled how a duchess, who centuries before, when her stable boys reached the age of fourteen, had them thoroughly scrubbed,dressed nicely and brought to her to be gently whipped and virtually raped to celebrate their imminent manhood. Most of them by all accounts had become her devoted servants for life. She stared closely through the lenses at Kenny's smooth tanned legs and open-mouthed young face feeling a warmth in her groin and a tiny emission escape into the crotch of her silk Paris-bought panties. `My God' she thought; what would Basil,her husband do with him?,or Antoine her hairdresser, or Lance Drummond her young solicitor so well named for his terribly thin but incredibly long uncut prick. For that matter what about Francine her pretty personal maid? Sheila Barnes,her old school friend who went both ways? Even better,darling Daphne? who would probably want to have her dildo in his bum while she made him wear her undies. But how to go about it? One would have to proceed very carefully.The seduction of a teenage boy might not be as easy as one imagined. Little did the `ice maiden', as she knew she was called, dream that the opportunity would present itself in the very near future. It was very early sunday morning when two foursomes arrived to play as Kenny was preparing for the day. They played a set or two and left, tipping him in addition to paying the court fees. In a rash moment,having a streak of mild larceny common in all young boys, he pocketed the money and didn't complete the register which duly passed across Cynthia's desk on monday. Happy in her private knowledge, she called Kenny in to confirm that it was correct. He decided to stick by his story; after all, the Hartlands seldom came to the club,noone had been around nor could anyone therefore be any the wiser that the fees had been purloined. It was by incredible ill fortune for Kenny that Cynthia had met the Hartlands who had described their"jolly good fun game in the early hours" and she told Kenny of this. She ruthlessly pointed out that this was a case of outright theft and made him write out a confession,which he did,silently praying that he might only get a blistering lecture. To his horror he was then told that she would mull over as to whether or not to take the matter to the police or decide on some other punishment. What would his uncle think?, how could he face the club members? would he have to go to court?. In the fertile imagination of youth and conditioned by his schooling in discipline he could almost envisage a bewigged judge donning the death cap. Cynthia was in a delicious ecstasy belying her stern outward demean. She was in total control. Before her stood a lovely but terrified boy,willing apparently to do absolutely anything to avoid the shame and disgrace of exposure for what of course was really only petty theft, but infinitely worse in his eyes. In her coldest voice she said firmly "you will come to my house this afternoon at one o'clock precisely and I will decide then what to do about you. You can go now". Brian was later admitted to the manor house hidden in the trees, by Francine, Cynthia's tiny, curly-headed French maid who, escorting him to the study, couldn't resist closely studying the boy's physique with his bare thighs and fresh young looks. As the door closed he stood there in the almost dark,bookase-lined, rather stuffy study, redolent of cigars and ink and gun oil. Cynthia was sitting on a large plain armless chair in the middle of the room in her tennis dress with a thin leather belt and a wide short skirt. He did so and she continued "Nobody else knows of your theft and to spare many people, especially your family, I am prepared to settle this matter in private rather than make an official complaint to the police with the adverse publicity to the club and distress of others. You will however have to agree to being given twelve stokes of the belt on your backside...You have exactly one minute to decide one way or the other" To Kenny, the only choice was obvious. He had been caned before, sometimes almost brutally by his housemaster, and the disgrace surrounding the alternative was just too terrible to contemplate. "I'd rather take the belt please Mrs Rhys-Hamilton" he answered almost immediately. Cynthia replied "very well, remove your runners ,socks and shorts and come and stand directly in front of me". When Kenny stammered "but.I....but... .I.. err" she snapped loudly "Do what you're told.... at once!". The boy obeyed and after unhooking the clasp on his white shorts,shyly lowered and removed them and went like a condemned man going to his execution, to stand in front of his judge clad in only his short tennis shirt and briefs .Cynthia undid her thin white leather belt , and placed it on her lap. She stared for a whole minute at the thin white cotton garment only inches in front of her eyes, wetting her lips slightly at the sight of the sparse golden hairs on the thighs but mostly at the well-filled sac of the well-worn cotton pouch that outlined all too clearly what it contained. She reached out to the boys hips and, thumbs in the waistband, pulled the undergarment slowly,slowly down and leaning forward, her hair brushing his genitals, lifted each foot to free the briefs which she placed beside her on the floor. She was now confronted by a blushing, naked, fifteen year-old in shock at this sudden assault on his propriety. He gasped "please dont ma'am.....please....please...it isnt right". The woman was mesmerised A foot in front of her were the loveliest pubes she had ever seen.The white thick tube of flesh was just over five inches long with another inch of foreskin hanging gently down over two slightly rosy balls. Perhaps it was the sudden baring to the open air and the warmth of her breath that had caused a slight enlargement and stiffening but it was there. She could scent the faint fernlike odour of a boy's sex,the slight tang of ammonia in his sweat as well as sheer fear. She felt a definite sudden strong seeping in her crotch as her vagina emitted nature's instinctive readying juices into her silken crotch. Even in her heightening excitement she still had control and knew her plan must be furthered.She told Kenny to move around to her side and lower himself over her lap for his punishment. As he did so, she took hold of the belt quickly flipping up the front of her skirt so the boys naked thighs were on her's with only the thin soft cloth of her knickers between the flesh of their respective legs and sexual organs. Kenny's face and elbows were on the carpet ,his torso firmly weighing down on her bare thighs as she started to slowly wale his buttocks with her thin belt.At close range it wasn't possible to use as much force as she would have if swung at a distance but she put every ounce of force she could into each stroke She was in her domination mode now; a defenceless boy entirely at her mercy and she revelled both in his humiliation,his knowledge that a woman had the power to inflict physical pain and for her, that she was the first of her sex to reduce him to a submission he would remember all his life. Suddenly the tenor of her lust seemed to change;she opened her legs fractionally and,as she moved her hips slightly to and fro felt the hardened rod of the boy's member catch on the skin of her thigh and force itself down between them to feel, oh so deliciously hot, between her sweating thighs. She closed them tightly rather hoping he might feel a new sort of pain to add to that of the red welts she was raising on his curved white cheeks. She also knew that copious quantities of her own juices were starting to run through and out of her panties to coat the tip of the boys erection now well freed of its protective covering. Every time the belt descended, Kenny's hips were forced suddenly downwards and he was powerless to prevent the friction of his prick in between the tight slippery and silky thighs of the adult. He could tell that she was responding to each thrust by pushing upwards herself. Almost exactly as she struck the twelfth blow, the tight contact of the flesh on flesh along with the touch of her pantied crotch brought both of them to an orgasm in a veritable bath of boy and woman liquids. For the boy, his mind was a complete blur,the experience was so shattering with so many different sensations; the shame of degradation,the very real pain of the burning welts on his bumcheeks,the mortification of his first nudity in front of a woman but yet also the hitherto unimagined ecstasy as he felt the hot sperm gushing and gushing from deep inside him,forcing it's way like a torrent through the tunnel of his prick and all over the surrounding soft warmth of a woman's crotch and legs. Kenny got up slowly,Cynthia did so more quickly replacing her belt. She at once resumed her position of authority. The seat of the brocaded chair was a virtual pool of creamy-white fluid. "Look what a disgusting mess you made boy" picking up his briefs, wiping the chair with them and then throwing them into a waste basket. She carefully avoided mentioning that much of the fluid was her's and that a substantial amount of his also remained drying between her legs under her white skirt "I'd get Francine in to help clean up...No.. get dressed and go". The thought of the young girl seeing him naked with a sheen of his cum all over his thighs was too much so he dressed quickly. She was delighted when he found it in him to mutter "I'm sorry ma'am" when he left. Cynthia's pretty maid came in the second the boy was gone and guessed what had happened. "Oh madame he was tres jolie.....please.....please say I can have him oneday..please madame?". She retrieved Kenny's soaking briefs from the basket and held them lightly to her pretty round face. She pouted slightly looking coquettishly at her mistress. "Please Madame?". But Cynthia was silent.She was already planning. (As may be guessed at,this is intended as the start of a series,dependant on its reception.Like most contributors to these pages I write for my amusement but also relish the appreciation of readers. I welcome suggestions,comments and even criticism if well intended. My thanks to YLeeCoyote for all of those)