Date: Thu, 7 Jan 2016 06:46:34 +0000 (UTC) From: Koos Smit Subject: BEACH FRONT BOY CHAPTER 12 Beach Front Boy Part 12 After breakfast the boys started leaving in groups to walk about the foreshore, go to the beach, go to movies or do whatever else they might want to do on their weekend off. After my exhausting night introducing Michael to boy sex, I was planning on taking advantage of the nearly empty ship to do some catch-up snoozing. Dirk, Johan and Stefan would be spending the weekend on board as duty crew, since their backs were still lividly welted from their initiation whippings of the night before. Our rule about this was intended to avoid drawing unwelcome attention and awkward questions about what was going on aboard Skobbejak, especially given our boys' propensity to go shirtless at every opportunity and given that there was every opportunity to do that on the Durban Beach front and Foreshore. Jul, of course, would stay with Dirk, since the two of them had recently announced that they were `boyfriends'. As I have explained before, in the subtly nuanced social structures that operated on Skobbejak, this did not mean that they would necessarily only have sex with each other, but it did mean that they were exempt, if they chose to be, from the rule that required all crew members, within reason, to be open to the sexual advances of any other boy. (There was in fact a very practical reason for this rule: I did not want a situation where, in an all-boy establishment, stronger boys might stake some sort of exclusive claim to the sexual favours of those weaker than themselves, as happens, for example, in prisons, reformatories and in some boys' homes). However, as Dirk and Jul had just recently adopted the status of `boyfriends' they were still very much in a `honeymoon' phase where they had eyes (not to mention hands, tongues, lips, anuses and cocks!) only for each other. For this reason I did not expect to see too much of these two. I was quite sure they would seclude themselves in one of the empty cabins and spent the day enjoying the opportunity for privacy and intimacy denied to them in the open-plan living conditions of the crew's quarters. Keen to continue the exciting journey of sexual self-discovery that he had embarked on the night before, Michael had made strenuous efforts to seclude himself with me in my cabin for the day in order to continue where we had left off before breakfast. But instead I handed him over to Johan and Stefan with instructions to continue his sexual training. Michael was a little dubious, but Johan and Stefan were only too happy to have a job that would relieve the boredom of looking after an empty ship, especially as it involved `breaking in fresh meat' (as Johan described it). `Can we use your cabin, Uncle Jonathan?', asked Johan. `Sure', I said, and they eagerly led a half-reluctant Michael below. Concerned that Michael might withdraw into his shell at the prospect of having sex with two of the `Jocks' of the ship, I looked in on them half an hour later. I need not have worried: I found Johan vigorously pounding Michael's arse while Dirk was doing the same thing to his throat, to Michael's evident enjoyment. Sex was obviously the key to freeing Michael from his shyness and inhibitions. As I busied myself with administrative work in the wheelhouse, which doubled as my office, the two boys who had thus far resisted all of Ian's efforts to seduce them came to see me. `Excuse us Captain', the older boy said when I became aware of their presence and turned around to look at them enquiringly. `Yes?' He fidgeted embarrassedly for a while, evidently mustering the courage to say something. Impatiently the younger boy cut in: `We want to go home, Captain!', he blurted out. `Yes', the older boy added lamely. `What brought this on, boys?', I asked. `I dunno, Captain', said the older one, `I don't think the other boys want to be friends with us and we feel like they don't want us to be on this boat'. Somehow I was not surprised: The two of them had withdrawn more and more to themselves as the week had gone by. It had become clear that they felt excluded, and they could not have been oblivious to the fact that every other boy on the ship was spending a lot of their off duty time behind closed doors. They may or may not have been aware of what was going on behind those doors, but they would have been keenly aware that they were not part of it. `Well, you know', I said, `It takes two to make friends ... perhaps they think you don't want to be mates with them. I know that Ian has being trying very hard to be friends with you both.' `Yes, Captain', said the older one, `But we don't want to be friends with Ian ... he's not a very nice boy ... he's got a very dirty mind!' `What do you mean?, I asked. `He's always saying dirty things ... and he touches his private parts all the time!', asserted the younger one indignantly. `Has he ever touched your private parts?', I asked, worried that we might be heading into troubled waters here. `No ... but he's always looking at me there when we're showering ... I know he wants to!', said the older one. Relieved, I asked them whether they would not be prepared to see out the trip. `I'm sure things will get better as time goes by and you make friends with the others. You don't have to be friends with Ian, but there are some very nice boys on this ship', I said. `I don't know ...' said the older one, `They all seem pretty rough ... and if it doesn't work out it's a long time before we get back!' `No!' said the younger one emphatically, `I want to go home!' I realised that there was nothing for it but to arrange for their parents to pick them up, which I spent the rest of the morning doing. Fortunately, both boys lived in the suburbs of Durban. The parents were disappointed but seemed to be not very surprised. `Peter struggles so to make at friends at school', said the older boy's mother, `We had so hoped that he would come out of his shell on this trip' The younger boy's father said very little when he picked his son up, though he seemed to be fuming inwardly. As they walked away we heard him saying to his son: `This is the third time you've done this to us, Christopher! You realise I don't get my money back!' Christopher stomped off defiantly. The plus, of course, was that the impossible problem of having to keep the sexual activities of the whole ship's crew secret from two of its members had just resolved itself. There was no financial disadvantage either, as their fees had been paid in advance and were not refundable. However, it left us short-handed for the long voyage and very little time to find replacements. I tried contacting some of the many applicants who had been turned down to tell them that places had just become available but everyone I called had, understandably, made other arrangements by that time. That evening after supper I called the boys together on the foredeck and explained what had happened. `Good riddance!' said Ian, winking at his sexual converts `Miserable tight arses!' The sexual converts all giggled at this, happy in the sense of belonging that this public rejection of Peter's and Christopher's abstention automatically gave those who had so gladly embraced the sexual freedom that Ian had exposed them to. `Any ideas on who we can invite to come along?', I asked. `We don't know anybody who's got the money, Uncle Jonathan!', Tiaan said. `Well, actually, the two places have already been paid for, so we actually have two bursary places we can offer', I explained. `But ... they need to be boys who would ... fit in', I said with a wink, `If you know what I mean!' `Fit in!', some of the new boys repeated and broke into guffaws to show they understood the allusion, reinforcing their sense of belonging. `If you told me last week ... I got a buddy who fits me great ... but he got picked up by the cops this week, Ian joked. A few of the boys chuckled, but it gave me an idea. `How old is he and what was he arrested for?' I asked. `He's thirteen, same as me, Uncle Jonathan. The cops say for prostitution, but everyone knows it's really `cos he won't work for Sergeant Scholtz!', he replied. `What's his name?', I asked. `Derek', he replied. `Tell me', I asked, `When you kept getting arrested for the same thing, did you always appear before the same magistrate?' `Sure!', he replied at once, `He and Sergeant Scholtz are tight! Like this!', he said, thrusting out a hand with the middle and forefinger crossed, `Everybody knows!' `I see ... what is his name?', I asked. `Mr Carter', he replied. `Okay boys, let me see what I can think of. Now ... Johan and Dirk ... take your crew members down to crew's quarters ... we have some unfinished crew business from last night! Students to your own quarters!'. `Aw please Captain, can't we go with the crew?' pleaded Ian, `We wanna be part of the crew too like Stefan and Jul!' `I know you want to be part of the crew, Ian, and maybe you will be some time, but right now you are not, and until you are you can't be part of it', I said. Ian looked deeply disappointed. So I held him back as the other students went down to the saloon. `Look, Ian, I promise I will speak to your dad before the week is out about your becoming a permanent member of the crew, but please understand that before your dad agrees, you cannot take part in their activities. Do you understand?' `Okay, Uncle Jonathan, I understand. I just so want to belong!', he replied. `Just be patient', I smiled at him as I ran my fingers through his red-gold hair. `Okay, Uncle Jonathan', he said. `In the meantime, see if you can get Michael to go to bed with you ... maybe he's had a change of heart!', I said to him with a wink. Ian's faced brightened immediately. `Yes!', he said, `I'm gonna do that!', and he trotted off to find Michael. A little later I went forward to the crew's quarters and found Tiaan already strung up to the mast, waiting for my arrival so that his re-initiation could begin. In the next two hours I managed to re-initiate four boys. By then, such is the power of peer pressure among boys, all the rest of the crew had volunteered to be re-initiated. As I had done seven in two nights, I announced that we would do the remaining three boys, Ben, Rijn and Erik, the following evening. I suggested that the six-year-old Erik should be exempt from the much more rigorous initiation until he was older, which the boys were happy to agree to, but Erik would not hear of it, so I felt we needed to honour his courage by allowing him to undergo the ordeal. As I passed through the saloon on the way to my cabin for what I felt was a well-earned rest, I found Michael bent over the narrow saloon table, grunting and squeaking with pleasure as Ian expertly banged away at his arse. Simon was on his knees on the far side shoving his erected cock enthusiastically in and out of Michael's eager mouth. Ian gave me a wink as I passed but the other two were far too absorbed even to notice me going by. * * * * * * The next morning, which was Sunday, I got going early and contacted Henk, the pimp that several of boys had previously worked for, and called in some favours that he owed me. By the evening of the same day Henk arrived at Skobbejak with an order, signed by Mr Carter the magistrate, releasing into my care Ian's mate, Derek, and another thirteen-year-old named Rikus. They had both been sentenced to juvenile detention until their sixteenth birthday – Derek for prostitution and Rikus for shoplifting. They were being released to me indefinitely on parole. If things did not work out I could return them to Correctional Services. I was to go to the police station the next morning to fetch them. Each was to receive a police whipping before being released: twelve strokes of the cane. Since I was now effectively their legal guardian for the next six months, I was required to be present during the whipping. In return I was to take Magistrate Carter and a few of his friends on their own private fuck cruise out into Durban Bay on Monday night. Needless to say, they were to be wined and dined at my expense and my boys were to be freely available to them. Magistrate Carter specifically asked that the young parolees, Derek and Rikus, be made exclusively available to him. The next morning early I reported at the police station and identified myself to the sergeant on duty. A constable escorted me down a long passage and then down steep concrete stairs to the basement room where the judicial whippings were carried out on juvenile boys. It was a small grey-painted room with ceiling and floor of bare, unpainted concrete. In the centre of the room was what looked like a very old wooden form bench, very solidly constructed, about 2 metres long and 30 centimetres wide. The wood was worn and shiny from many years of daily use. There was a single neon tube in the middle of the ceiling that lit the room with a harsh white light. Just below the concrete ceiling on one side were a couple of narrow barred and glassless windows at the level of the pavement outside. Ian had spoken of hearing the screams of the boys being whipped every day at the police station and I realised that it was through those windows that the sound would escape to the street. Under this window were two solid-looking wooden chairs standing back to back. In one corner of the room there was what looked like an umbrella stand containing a selection of long yellow rattan canes of various length and thickness. In another corner was a table with an old-fashioned wash basin on it, a jug of water, a large tin of salt and a well-worn government-issue towel. The constable caught my glance: `Sometimes they bleed', he chuckled, `And then we gotta clean them up'. `Okay", I said. `This your first time?', he asked. `First official time', I answered, remembering the time I had arranged for Josh to take an unofficial police beating for stealing cigarettes in exchange for shoplifting charges being withdrawn. Just then heavy footsteps and the rattling sound of metal dragged over concrete could be heard moving down the passage. Shortly afterward a police sergeant entered, followed by two clearly frightened young boys and another police constable. The boys were barefoot and each wore ankle chains, which accounted for the metallic rattling heard in the passage. I looked the boys over as the police sergeant rattled off his whipping rules to them: `You gonna take off your clothes and put them on that table, okay? You wait until I tell you to get on the bench, okay? There's no straps, so you hook your toes on the bottom of the bench and hold tight with your hands on the top ... or on the sides if you too short, okay? You gonna lift your head and keep your eyes on that mark on the wall, okay? You can scream all you want but if you let go with your hands or your toes or you try to jump off or rub your arse or if you piss or shit yourself or if I have to get the constables to hold you down you gonna get extras, okay?' The boys, who were both Afrikaans, nodded and said `Ja Meneer! (Yes Sir!)' at each `okay?' but, from their fear-glazed eyes I guessed they weren't taking in anything at all and were bound to pick up a few `extras' along the way. I glanced at the bulges in the trouser fronts of the policemen and I guessed that they were probably relying on that. Both the boys were very cute and very well put together. I had expected nothing else of Derek as a boy who regularly earned money from selling his body in the competitive sex trade on the Durban Beach Front. That the shoplifter was also cute and sexy was a bonus. Both were blonde, tanned and blue-eyed. The bigger one wore his hair in a short-bristled mohawk with the sides of his head shaved smooth. The other had his hair in an untidy thatch that looked like it had not been washed in days. Both wore the uniform of extremely short shorts and skimpy tank tops that Durban beach boys wore in those days to show off their well-muscled upper bodies. The boy with the mohawk wore a small plain gold-coloured earring in the right earlobe, which in those days was meant to signal that he was gay. `Okay, Derek, you go first!' said the sergeant, nodding to the boy with the Mohawk. A constable unlocked Derek's ankle chain and hung it on one of several heavy iron hooks in the wall that held sets of manacles, leg-irons and the like. He made the other boy, who I gathered must be Rikus, stand in one corner of the room with his back to the wall. `You can stand here and watch what is going to happen to you', chuckled the constable. Derek moved uncertainly toward the bench while the sergeant fetched a long thick rattan cane from the table. He turned as Derek was about to lie down the bench. Quickly he stepped forward, swinging the cane through the air as he did so. It connected with Derek's shoulder blades with a loud `Smack!'. Derek yelped and jumped up, his face contorted with pain. `You don't listen!' the sergeant snarled, `I told you take your clothes off!' Shakily, Derek stripped his clothes off with trembling hands, revealing two other essential items in the arsenal of a rent-boy: A nice long cock and a firm round set of buttocks. A livid red welt mushroomed over his nicely muscled shoulders. I could feel my own cock growing steadily under my shorts, a fact that did not escape the sergeant's notice. He winked at me conspiratorially. `You lucky to get these boys instead of Henk', he smirked to me, `You obviously got some pull in this town!' I just smiled thinly at him. At this moment Derek went to lie across the bench a second time and earned another searing stripe across his shoulder blades. He yelped again and jumped to his feet. `Did I tell you to lie on the bench yet?', the sergeant demanded to know. `No Sir!' said Derek. `That's right!' said the sergeant, winking at me, `First we gotta take our dues!' One of the constables led Derek over to the chairs against the wall and made him kneel on the seat of one with his upper body hanging over the backs of the two chairs and his hands gripping the seat of the other chair. He pushed against Derek's back until his forehead rested on the seat of the other chair and his arse was up in the air. By now the sergeant had his trousers down to his knees and, with a constable pushing down on the back of Derek's strong neck to hold him down, the sergeant roughly rammed his swollen cock into Derek's arse. Not surprisingly, he slid in smoothly and easily and was quickly riding Derek savagely to climax. The constables followed in quick succession, after which I was offered a chance. I had initially resolved not to take up the opportunity when it was offered, as I realised it would be, but it was quickly clear that Derek enjoyed the fucking immensely, indeed, actively participated in his fucking to the extent that it was obvious that there was no need for a constable to hold him down. So, when the time came and Derek turned and looked over his shoulder at me with pleading eyes, I was more than happy to plunge my big cock into his arse as well. My cock was much longer and thicker than those of the three policemen, who whistled in open admiration when I yanked my shorts down. Derek's eyes widened slightly in alarm and Rikus involuntarily swore in Afrikaans: `Fok my! (Fuck me!)'. Derek moaned as he took the full length of my cock inside him. It went in relatively easily although it was certainly a tight fit. Being a professional, however, Derek quickly adjusted to my length and girth and soon I was banging away at his arse with the greatest of ease. That Derek enjoyed the fuck too was attested by the fact that he sprayed the back of the chair with copious amounts of cum shortly before I climaxed myself. With both his cock and his arsehole still dribbling cum Derek was ordered to lie on the bench to receive his whipping. Trembling, Derek did as he was told, hooking the bottom end of the bench with his leathery brown toes and, with outstretched arms, just managing to hook his fingers over the top end. The smooth wood felt almost pleasant against his perspiring skin. His still half-erected cock lay uncomfortably against the hardness of the bench and he lifted his buttocks a couple of times in a vain effort to get more comfortable. `Lie still!' the sergeant ordered as he snapped the cane against Derek's buttocks. Derek yelped and his body jerked, but he lay still. The sergeant swished the rattan through the air a few times. Derek's stomach lurched at the fluting sound it made. I could see the tension building in the tightly knotted muscles of Derek's back and buttocks. Derek turned to see what the sergeant was doing, and earned another stripe across his shoulder blades for his trouble. Derek yelled in surprize and pain and he involuntarily lost his grip on the top end of the bench. For that the sergeant gave him another stripe across his back. 'Keep your eyes fixed on the mark, boy, don't look at me!', the sergeant ordered. Derek fixed his gaze on the mark painted on the wall as every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation of the coming stroke. The sergeant raised the cane high above his shoulder and then brought it whistling through the air to smack against Derek's buttocks with a loud crack. Derek's whole body jerked involuntarily and he screamed as the excruciating pain raced along every nerve in his body. Despite this the boy had the presence of mind to keep his grip on the bench. Twelve times the cane rose slowly and then darted through the air to bite into Derek's quivering buttocks, wrenching an agonized scream from the boy with every stroke. When it was over, Derek lay on the bench dazed and sobbing. His hard round buttocks, tanned a golden brown like the rest of his body, were a latticework of fiery welts, oozing tiny droplets of bright blood . 'You can get up now', the sergeant ordered. Derek struggled painfully to his feet, his face red and streaked with tears. The sergeant inspected his buttocks and then pulled Derekover to the table by the arm. He emptied the jug of water into the basin and then shook a generous quantity of salt into it, dissolving it by stirring it vigorously with his hand. Then he soaked the towel in the strong saline mixture and bent down to wash Derek's arse with it. Derek clutched his arse and howled as the salt burned into the fiery welts criss-crossing his beautiful round buttocks. `There you go!', said the sergeant, patting him on his fiery arse, `That'll keep the germs out!' Then Rikus was released from his shackles. Since Derek had had his whipping he was no longer considered a flight risk and he was allowed to go and stand in the corner unshackled, where he snivelled quietly until one of the constables gave him a backhander against the side of his head and told him to shut up. `Get your clothes off!' the sergeant ordered Rikus. Rikus dropped to his knees and clasped his hands in front of his face in the universal attitude of the beggar: `Please, Sir!', he pleaded, `Please don't fuck me! I'm not a rent boy Sir! I never been fucked before, Sir! Please! Please!' The boy's pleading seemed to excite the sergeant even more. `I don't give a fuck that you never been fucked before, boy, you gonna get fucked now!', he snarled. `Any case, I'm doing you a favour, getting you ready to work for this uncle!', he added, obviously under the impression that I would be pimping the boys. I had mixed feelings about that but I decided not to rock the boat. I didn't know what story Henk had spun to get these boys released to crew on Skobbejak and so I thought it best to keep my mouth shut. At least it would save me and the boys the trouble of introducing the boy to man sex ourselves and it would certainly speed up Rikus's integration into the crew! `If you don't want to play ball', the sergeant continued, `Just say so and I'll send you to juvenile prison ... pretty ass like yours gonna be fucked by the older kids and the warders all night ... every night ... Is that what you want?' `No sergeant!', Rikus said, getting to his feet and quickly taking off his clothes. `That's better!' said the sergeant when Rikus was naked, `Now get up on the chair like you saw your buddy do'. Rikus did so. As a precaution, the sergeant ordered one of the constables to shackle his wrists and ankles to the chairs. `He ain't gonna enjoy it like the slut boy did, so you better tie him down!', he guffawed. As the sergeant thrust his rock-hard cock into Rikus's arse, the boy's ear-splitting screams confirmed that he had indeed been a virgin. `Oooh shit!! Oooh fuck!! Geez that hurts!!', he gasped between screams, struggling helplessly against the shackles that bound him. The screaming continued unabated for what seemed like ages before it subsided, first to a heartrending sobbing and then to a continuous low moaning. Finally the sergeant went into spasm as he reached climax and there was a fresh scream from Rikus as he pulled his swollen cockhead out of Rikus's tortured anus and sprayed his cum all over Rikus's arse and back. The constable who stepped up to take the sergeant's place screwed up his face in distaste at the sight of the sergeant's cum, so he motioned Derek forward and made him lick it all up, a task that Derek seemed to relish. By the time the second constable inserted his cock into Rikus's arse, the boy's anus seemed to have relaxed sufficiently that Rikus was beginning to respond with some enjoyment. By the time the constable reached climax Rikus's moans of pain had turned to satisfied grunts of pleasure. And when I stepped up to take my turn, although his eyes widened with anxiety on entry and he moaned with pain for a few thrusts, he quickly adjusted to my size and even began to fuck himself on my shaft, as if trying to hurry the pace. As it always seemed to do, my big cock seemed to find his sweet spot pretty quickly and eventually drove the boy to a long and shuddering climax in which he squirted a considerable quantity of slippery cum against the back of the chair he was leaning over. The involuntary spasming of his anus on my cock as he climaxed pushed me over the top too and I lay over his muscled brown back and shot my load deep inside him. `See, that wasn't so bad. Was it?', the sergeant said to Rikus as he was being unshackled, `I knew you was a natural!' `Yes, Sergeant', said Rikus as he stood up, and then to me: `Thank you, Sir', he said with a rueful smile, `That was sore but it was nice!' `Never met a boy yet didn't love man cock up his arse once he had it!' the sergeant smirked. `Yes Sergeant', Rikus replied. `Got the equipment too', said the sergeant, winking at me as he gripped Rikus's impressive half erect cock with one hand. `Our Afrikaner boys are like bulls' the sergeant proclaimed proudly, `Not like some of those English moffies that we get here, with their little baby willies!' Rikus pulled back and grinned sheepishly, his blue eyes registering pride. `Now lick all your mess off that chair!' the sergeant ordered. Rikus looked with distaste at the thickening globs of his cum where they were slowly dribbling down the back of the chair. The sergeant noticed his hesitation and moved towards Rikus with his cane. Rikus quickly bent down and started lapping up his cum from the chair. The sergeant snapped the cane hard across Rikus's brawny brown back. `Ouch!', he yelled, cum spraying out of his mouth, `I'm doing it Sergeant!' `Next time don't hesitate!', the sergeant snarled, `You told to do something you don't think about it ... You just do it!' `Yes Sergeant!', Rikus grimaced. `Now lick up that shit you sprayed on my boots!', the sergeant ordered. `Yes Sergeant!', Rikus replied as he dropped to the floor and began licking the sprayed cum off the sergeant's boots. Half an hour and fifteen searing strokes of the cane later Rikus was helped to his feet sobbing with agony (Rikus picked up a several extra lashes until he learned to concentrate). At a couple of points where two lashes intersected the skin had actually broken and there were trickles of blood running down his buttocks and onto his thighs. The blood was washed off with the saline solution while Rikus was still lying on the bench and this elicited a fresh round of howling agony. Finally, the two freshly whipped boys were allowed to gingerly inch their shorts up over their cane-welted bottoms and pulled their tank tops over their heads. Thirteen-year-old boys in rude health recover quickly and they were both quite cheerful, almost exuberant, when we fetched their meagre possessions from the sergeant's office. Rikus threw his arms around me. `Thank you Sir, for rescuing us!', Rikus said, his voice thick with emotion. Derek hung back with a cynical smirk and folded arms. His tough thirteen years in the backstreets of Durban had taught him that there were no free rides and he was obviously reserving judgement until he could work out what was in it for me. `Just remember', said the sergeant, `These boys is actually juvenile prisoners on probation ... They don't behave, you got the right to whip them up to fifty lashes ... you got the right to lock them up and to restrain them with manacles or shackles ... and you got the right to return them to Correctional Services with a bad conduct report. If they sent back with a bad conduct report they get sent to the Boys' Farm to work their arses off until they sixteen ... and I promise they will shit off there big time!' The boys shuddered at the mention of the Boys' Farm. They had both heard terrifying stories of what went on there – of boys doing forced labour in the fields or in the quarry all day in the burning sun; of daily beatings and rapes; of punishment floggings that put boys in the infirmary for days at a time; of boys disappearing and never being seen again (the most persistent story was that they were being trafficked into Africa and the Middle East as sex slaves). The rumours were no doubt highly exaggerated, but they persisted. As our taxi growled through the streets of Durban, I explained to the boys that they would be joining Skobbejak's crew for a six month voyage to Madagascar. Rikus's face lit up with delight at this news but Derek looked at me suspiciously. `You gonna sell us there as sex slaves, aren't you?' he demanded to know. `What? Of course not!', I said, `Skobbejak is a school ship and I need two strong young boys to fill in as crew for the voyage. You two happen to be lucky enough to be available at short notice!' Derek folded his arms and scowled, not buying it yet. We stopped at a place in a dingy backstreet where Henk had arranged for me to pick up passports for the boys from someone who worked for the Department of Home Affairs. They were genuine passports, not forgeries. It was just that palms had been greased to cut short the usual lengthy procedure that would have been required if we had had to track down the boys' parents, apply for birth certificates, etc. From there we made one other stop to pick up some clothing and other items for the boys before heading to the yacht basin. `Okay, now listen up!', I announced, `You probably know some of my boys in the crew ... most of them have also been beach front rent boys ... Derek, one of them is your mate Ian. You probably won't know any of the paying students ... they are all from wealthy families that you probably wouldn't mix with' `You'd be surprised!', Derek said sardonically. I laughed. `Actually, now that I think about it, I probably wouldn't be!' I replied. `Anyway', I added, `I want you to understand that you have a chance now to pull yourselves together. It's up to you whether you go back to juvenile detention or the Boys' Farm when the six month voyage is over. I promise you that, if you pull your weight and show me that you are prepared to work to better yourselves, I will help you do that. Whether that means you stay with us or go on to something else, we, and by that I mean you and me, will decide when the time comes. Okay?' `Okay', said Rikus, `Thank you Sir!' `I don't care if they send me to the Boys' Farm!' said Derek. `Well, that's your choice', I said to Derek, `Just don't stuff it up for Rikus!' Derek looked away out of the car window and said nothing. I wondered if I had made a mistake with Derek. I sensed that he could be stubborn and strong-willed. He had, after all, been operating as an independent rent-boy on Sergeant Scholtz's turf for a long time, despite all the considerable pressure the corrupt policeman had brought to bear on him. I admired him for this alone and I hoped that I would be able to harness those qualities to the good. `Did you say Ian is with you?', Derek asked suddenly. `Yes', I replied. `Did he also get in trouble?', he asked. `No ... his dad is paying for him to come on the trip', I replied. `Ja ... I know his dad's got bucks. His dad's cool ... we do a threesome sometimes ... Ian and his dad and me', said Derek. `Well actually', I said, `It was Ian who told me about you, so if you get sold as a sex slave in Madagascar, you know who you can blame!' Derek looked at me a moment, sizing me up, and then his handsome face lit up in a wide grin. `You sell me, I'll give `em such a hard time they gonna bring me back real fast, I can promise you!' I laughed. `I'm sure you will Derek ... I'm sure you will'. I felt a little easier about Derek after that exchange, but time would tell ... Back on Skobbejak I handed Derek and Rikus over to Johan and Dirk with instructions to get them settled in and start showing them the ropes. `We have only a week of training left, so they have a lot to catch up before we set sail', I reminded them. `Yes, Uncle Jonathan!', the two of them chorused. `And for goodness sake give Rikus a haircut ... it'll be much easier to keep clean at sea than that big mop he's got on his head right now!', I added. * * * * * * The next day we got back from our training evolutions in the mid-afternoon so that we would have time to prepare to receive Magistrate Carter and his guests. As I could not risk the complications that might arise if the students got involved, I hired a mini-bus and sent them, under Dirk's supervision, to spend the night under canvas with a friend of mine who ran a holiday camp in the Ballito area. Dressed in their sarongs, the boys welcomed Magistrate Carter and his five guests aboard just as the sun was going down. A boy was detailed to attend exclusively to each guest and Magistrate Carter, of course, had both Derek and Rikus looking after him. Each guest was led below into the guest cabin allocated to him where his host boy encouraged him to change into a sarong and return on deck for snacks and drinks. I had given up my own cabin for Magistrate Carter to share with Derek and Rikus. As we would be sailing up and down the bay off Durban among the anchored ships awaiting a berth in the harbour and among the commercial and private fishing vessels that would also be plying those waters, I did not expect to get any sleep but, if I needed to, I would sleep in the crew's quarters in one of the bunks vacated by the boys spending the night with the guests in the cabins. As insurance, having regard to the power and influence that the Magistrate and his guests had at their disposal in Durban society, I had arranged for a former work colleague to lend me a bunch of security spycams which I installed in strategic locations in guest cabins and in my own cabin. They were quite bulky things in those days, so it took a little ingenuity to conceal them in one of the many nooks and cubbyholes in the cabins, but I was satisfied that they would not be detected, especially since being filmed in the act of rogering two underage boys was probably the last thing that would be on any of their minds!. I did not think it would ever be necessary to use the film but, of course, one never knows! Sometime after midnight I was standing in the wheelhouse with Johan, who was on the helm, as we chugged slowly under power a couple of miles off the beach front, watching the lights of the city glide by. Most of the activities had died down and the guests were one by one succumbing to the soporific effects of wine, healthy exercise and the sea air. Johan and I were both naked, having taken off our sarongs and knotted them over spokes of the wheel earlier when we had taken turns at fucking each other while standing at the wheel. Just then my adopted son, Joshua, arrived with one of Magistrate Carter's guests in tow. I had recognised the name earlier as that of an extremely wealthy local investor and had coupled my adopted son, Joshua, with him for the night. `Hey, Dad!', Joshua announced, `My guest wanted to meet you!' I reached for my sarong but then saw that both the guest and Joshua were naked, so I left it `Hello', he said, holding out a hand, `My name is Andre. I just wanted to say I've really enjoyed this event immensely. Your son Joshua has been a terrific host and has been looking after me very well indeed.' `Glad to hear it', I said, `By the way, my name is Jonathan'. `You have a great bunch of boys here Jonathan and you are providing them with a wonderful opportunity. Miles Carter told me about the two boys you have rescued from juvenile detention and I believe that most of the crew, including Joshua, are boys that you have rescued in one way or another', he said `Well, thank you', I said, `I like to believe that, whatever his background, almost every boy will benefit from what we provide them here on Skobbejak.' `I have no doubt of it', Andre replied, `And, moreover, it provides people such as you and me with an unrivalled opportunity to indulge our passions in circumstances of the utmost discretion'. `Well ...', I answered, hesitantly, `It does indeed ... but ... we don't organise these things on a regular basis. We have only ever done two in fact ... and both were effectively payments for favours' `Yes I know', said Andre, `Favours which resulted in more boys being rescued!' I shot Joshua a glance with eyebrows raised, wondering what else he told this stranger. Joshua blushed: `Just listen, Dad, Andre has a great idea to tell you!' I looked at Andre. `Well, let's cut to the chase, shall we?' he said, `I do indeed have an idea that I want to propose to you that I believe we can both benefit from'. Andre outlined his proposal: He and a number of his friends with similar interests would set up a trust fund that would provide bursaries for boys like Derek and Rikus to complete their schooling on Skobbejak. There would be unwritten criteria for selection ... basically the understanding would be that they must be boys who would `fit in' with the Skobbejak family. In return, the trustees would have certain privileges of access to all the boys of the crew (ie, not just the sponsored boys) the details of which would be worked out. It would include participation in regularly scheduled `fuck cruises' when Skobbejak was in port. It would also include loaning the boys out to participate in private parties and the like at the trustees' mansions and elsewhere. `Well, Andre', I said, `It is, of course, very generous of you and your friends to offer sponsorships to boys of limited means. However, we are about to depart on an extended educational voyage and we have no more berths available until we return in six months' time. In the meantime I will consider your proposal and discuss it with the boys, who will have a say since they would be expected to "perform" in terms of the contract. I will communicate our response when we get to Maputo or perhaps when we reach Madagascar'. `No problem at all', said Andre, `I did not expect an immediate answer but I would be grateful if you could let me as soon as possible as it will take some time to set things up from our side in any event'. Then, as an afterthought, he added: `You know what? I have a large beach villa on Inhaca Island. Perhaps you and the boys can join me and my friends there when you call in at Maputo. We can discuss the matter then and have a lot of fun at the same time?' `Sounds like a great idea. Let's make the arrangements during this coming week!', I replied. * * * * * * After a busy week of training and last minute arrangements we were finally heading out of Durban harbour, bound for Madagascar via Richards Bay and Maputo. By this time Derek and Rikus had settled very well into the rhythm of shipboard life. There had been some butting of heads in the first few days as they fought for places in the pecking order, as boys are naturally bound to do, but I left the boys to sort themselves out and, as always, they did so without too many bruises and things settled down on an even keel. We had made some changes in the ship's organisation that Dirk, Johan and I thought necessary and that the crew voted on: Johan, accepted as the natural leader of the crew and by now easily Dirk's equal in seamanship and ship-handling, was elected Chief Mate. He also happened to be the biggest and strongest boy on board, which meant that he was able to dominate any of the boys physically if necessary ... always an important consideration when choosing leaders of young boys, since they are basically very physical creatures at that age. Dirk was elected Second Mate and Tiaan, Third Mate. Each of them would lead a watch as we also made the change to a three watch system. Johan and Dirk moved into the cabin vacated by the two students who went home. Ian had begged his father to allow him to become a paying crew member so that he could move into the crew's quarters. Tiaan moved into Ian's cabin, so that all my young ship's officers were now in cabins, and Josh moved in with Tiaan, although they were no longer `boyfriends'. (After two weeks they had become bored with it ... boys are naturally promiscuous creatures, after all). Each watch also elected one boy from among themselves to be a petty officer (effectively second in charge of the watch). They were Josh, Jul and. I approved this choice after a lot of thought as, although he was still very new and inexperienced, Stefan was popular among the boys and a good leader. Although a year younger than Johan, Stefan was as big and almost as strong, which meant that he was more than capable of enforcing his orders if the need ever arose. On the night before our departure, Ian, Derek and Rikus had asked to be allowed to undergo the crew's initiation ritual and both I and the boys had been happy to oblige. Rikus, of course, being a novice to anal penetration, had great difficulty keeping the giant dildo in his arse through the entire whipping, so he managed to collect nearly double the prescribed number of lashes – a new Skobbejak record of which he was very proud. A week later he was disappointed that the welts that he had been flaunting like a badge of courage (which of course they were) had faded. `You shoulda whipped me harder, Uncle Jonathan', he moaned, `Then I coulda had the scars on my back forever!'. `You boys really are strange creatures!', I laughed, ruffling the blonde bristles of his newly crew-cut hair. I found it an interesting contrast that, although the initiation whipping, performed with a braided leather whip across their bare backs, was probably a lot more painful than the police caning Derek and Rikus had received just a week before, both boys bore their whipping in stoic silence, apart from perhaps a strangled grunt of pain each time the whiplash sliced across their backs. I asked them about that afterward, when they came to my cabin to have cool soothing `fridge cream' (the boys' name for sunburn ointment) applied to their welts ... and then stayed for sex. Derek answered for both of them and I thought his answer very meaningful. `We didn't want to let down our mates ... or let them think we were sissies. At the police station we had only ourselves to let down ...' We had delayed our departure by a few days waiting for the right weather window to take us to Richards Bay and we were now finally on our way. There was an air of high excitement as Skobbejak exited Durban harbour mouth. We ran on under power for a while to get us clear of the shipping and then, about three miles out, all boys turned to hoisting and trimming the sails. I always enjoyed watching the muscles in their backs, arms and legs flexing and bunching rhythmically as they hauled on the heavy ropes like a well-oiled machine, leaning back and stamping the deck with their hard bare feet like a tug of war team. As we turned to head east the ship heeled joyfully and we felt the surge as the sails filled and Skobbejak leaped forward. Minutes later Johan cut the engine and there was a spontaneous cheer from all the boys on deck as they realized that our East African adventure had finally begun.