Date: Wed, 11 May 2016 15:39:28 +0000 (UTC) From: Koos Smit Subject: BEACH FRONT BOY - CHAPTER 16 Beach Front Boy Part 16 `We was at this boarding school in Umtali in Rhodesia.' Smiley began, `That's me an' Ballas an' John and some of the others here.' `All the boys at that school was bad kids ... or they got bad parents ... or they got no parents ... orphans ... like me and John. We all got sent there by the magistrate. Me `n John's dads got killed in the bush war when we was little. We didn't have moms, so we got sent to Umtali. My best buddy Ballas here got sent there because he was a bad kid!', he paused to giggle, `He kept stealing stuff because his dad spent all his money on booze and there was nothing left for food ... so the magistrate took him away from his dad and sent him to the Brothers so he could learn to be good!' Ballas grinned wickedly at this: `Ja ... Brother Mac taught me to be good, all right ... a good fuck!' Smiley giggled. `Ja, Brother Mac taught us both!', he said. Ballas grinned mischievously and pumped his fist exaggeratedly on his thick young cock, which had rapidly hardened again even as he spoke about Brother Mac. `But I taught him first' said Ballas Smiley pointed at Ballas's impressively swollen maleness. `It's true', Smiley said, `That fucken big pole of his was the first cock that ever went up my arse ... `course it wasn't that big when we was eight, but it was fucken big for a eight year old all the same.' Ballas beamed with pride. `I still got the biggest cock in the school!' `Ja ... only there's no more school!' said Smiley. `You know what I mean!' said Ballas. The school was apparently basically a boy's home run by a charitable order rather than one of the elite private schools that one of the educational orders ran for the sons of the wealthy. With no fee income the school had to depend on charitable donations, on the funding provided by the order and on government grants. There was no money for anything but the essentials. The Brothers saved money wherever they could, especially in such relatively non-essential items as uniforms and clothing. The hot climate, for example, permitted the boys to wear short-sleeved open-necked khaki shirts and khaki shorts the whole year round. Each boy was issued with one pullover for the very rare occasions that the weather turned cold but most of the boys had never actually had occasion to wear it. It went without saying that the boys were not provided with shoes or underwear either. Not that any of them would have considered this a hardship anyway. Rhodesian boys were a hardy breed, of sturdy British and Afrikaner settler stock. Most of them, like their South African cousins, went barefoot all year round and would have considered wearing underwear downright unmanly and, in the sweaty African heat, an intolerable discomfort. `Anyway', Smiley went on, absently fingering the curved scar on his cheek, `We was all in the school choir that went to Vila Pery in Mozambique for that Easter week.' Smiley and Ballas told me how the choir travelled the short distance from Umtali in Rhodesia to Vila Pery in Mozambique in very high spirits. It was an annual event that the Umtali boys always looked forward to and the Portuguese school community in Vila Pery were very gracious and generous hosts. Not their words, but I gathered that the choirboys weres regarded as an elite among the boys of the school. They were apparently hand-picked by Brother Mac from among the best athletes in the school. It seemed that, while singing ability was an obvious requisite, Brother Mac's further selection criteria were: the boys had to be good-looking or at least cute; they had to have athletic, well-developed bodies; and, most important, they had to like sex and be willing to enjoy it with the good Brother and also with each other. The choir was apparently pretty good. They were also a pleasure to behold. Who could fail to be charmed by a choir of 20 cute young country boys with their suntanned faces and rosy cheeks, singing like angels in their red cassocks, white surplices and bare feet? As a result they were much in demand in the entertainment starved country towns and occasionally, as on this occasion, in the neighbouring Diocese, which happened to be just across the border in Mozambique. As the delighted townsfolk everywhere had their hearts melted by the boys' angelic singing and cherubic beauty, none could have guessed that there was not a boy on the stage who had not had the choirmaster's cock up his arse or down his throat many times. None knew that it was not just the boys' feet that were bare under the cassocks or that those shining eyes were lit more by lustful thoughts of what the boys would be doing in their hotel rooms later that night than by any heavenly inspiration. `When we asked why we had to wear those long red girly dresses in the choir instead of normal clothes, Brother Mac said it's so no one can see when we got a boner', Smiley said. `Which was most of the time!' Ballas added with a guffaw. `Yes ... and remember that time in the cathedral in Bulawayo when Brother Mac lifted your cassock at the back and finger-fucked your bum hole while you was singing a solo!' Smiley laughed. `Or when John pulled up his cassock and sat on Brother Mac's cock in the choir stall and Mac fucked him quietly while the priest was giving the sermon', Ballas snickered. `Ja ... an' we was all giggling behind our music sheets ... an' every time John grunted or moaned we had to pretend we was all coughing ... an' when we walked down the aisle afterward John was dropping Mac's cum out his slack arse on the tiles and we was slipping in it with our bare feet!' Smiley remembered. `Those was great times!' said Ballas, `But go on with your story now!' `Oh ja!', said Smiley, `We always liked going on outings with Brother Mac `cause we always had lotsa sex an' no one to tell us no!' Outings such as this were an opportunity for both Brother Mac and `his boys' to give free expression to the lusts that they could only exercise furtively while at school. The boys looked forward to these flights of freedom immensely. Brother Mac drove the bus and was the only adult who accompanied them on these trips. With his active encouragement the boys turned every outing into one long orgy from the moment the bus left the town limits until it returned the next day or a few days later, interrupted only by the necessity of actually doing a public performance on some town hall stage. On one or two memorable occasions the bus ran unexpectedly into a BSAP (British South Africa Police) checkpoint between towns and the boys had just enough time to disengage their cocks from each other's mouths or bums and pull on their shorts before the bus came to a stop. Anywhere but in Africa a bus load of young boys wearing nothing but bum-hugging shorts might have attracted comment, but in the heat and humidity of central Rhodesia a bunch of barefoot and shirtless young boys on a school trip was regarded as completely unremarkable. In each case the police sergeant did not venture any further than the step well at the front of the bus before waving a dismissive hand and wishing everyone a pleasant journey further. He was looking for terrorists after all and not white schoolboys. Had he walked down the aisle and gotten a look at the many erection-tented shorts or the cum splattered floor and seats at the back of the bus where the 13 year-olds sat, there might perhaps have been some awkward questions. Or perhaps not: Boys will be boys, after all, and in these remote outposts one learned not to scratch where it didn't itch. Although he protected `his boys' fiercely and secured many privileges for them, Brother Mac apparently did not mollycoddle them. He believed that the cane was the only effective instrument of correction for young boys and he used it even for the most minor infractions. He caned their bare bottoms frequently and hard. Canings were not private events. Boys would be caned in front of their mates so that the others could also benefit from the example. Every boy was caned at least once a week. If by the close of the day on Friday any boy had not been caned that week for some offence that he had actually committed, he would be caned in the choir room that evening on the basis that he must be guilty of some undetected crime. There were invariably five or six of these boys; usually the same five or six, and the choir looked forward to watching their mates being beaten almost as much as Brother Mac looked forward to beating them. Not that Brother Mac flogged his boys with any trace of malice. Quite the opposite. He loved his boys dearly and genuinely believed that he was administering doses of virtue that would serve them well in later life. The fact that he derived sexual pleasure from doing so was to him merely a confirmation of his love for them and that was what he taught them: `Brother Mac used to say "If you get a boner when you watch your mate being flogged, it's because you love him"' Smiley told me. `Ja', added Ballas earnestly, `That's how we knew Brother Mac loved us all ... he always had a big boner when he whipped us.' `Well ... I dunno' said Smiley, `I always got a hard-on even when I didn't like the guy getting jacked ... so I think it's more about sex than love!' `Ja, true hey!' Ballas responded, `Maybe you right.' Brother Mac had apparently encouraged the boys to masturbate if their cocks erected while watching or even receiving a caning. In this way their impressionable young psyches quickly came to associate pain with sexual pleasure and every caning became a prelude to sexual gratification. Smiley resumed his story: The boys had looked forward to the annual outing to Vila Pery in Mozambique as it promised to be a whole week of unbridled sex interrupted only by a few choral performances at various venues in the town. The war in Mozambique was increasing in intensity, but so far it had not reached the eastern part of the country and the area was considered safe. The outing lived up to its promise and the boys had a marvellous week in Vila Pery. They were accommodated, as usual, at a private guest house just outside the town whose Portuguese owner was an old friend of Brother Mac and, needless to say, shared his sexual preferences and joined in the fun. On Good Friday the boys were taken to a Catholic mission school in the countryside some distance away from Vila Pery. There they were to take part in a traditional ceremony commemorating how some early missionary saint was crucified by the local tribespeople on Good Friday a hundred or more years earlier, more or less as a cruel joke, but which somehow later led to the conversion of the whole tribe to Christianity. The ceremony took place in the open air and part of it involved three local volunteers being `crucified' on wooden crosses that had been made for the purpose, although, unlike similar ceremonies in the Philippines, they were not actually nailed to the cross but merely tied to it. They did not actually hang on the crosses either. The crosses were made short enough to allow the `victims' to have their feet on the ground while their arms were spread sideways and tied to the cross bar. However, before being `crucified' in this way they were stripped naked and made to face the cross and hold onto the cross bar while they were `scourged' with multi-stranded whips that had been dipped into goats blood. This created a spectacle of sufficient gore and violence to give everyone that thrill of delicious horror that otherwise civilized people seek when they go to watch muscular men beat each other to bloody pulp in a boxing match. Once again, of course, the boys were grateful for the fact that their voluminous cassocks concealed their erections at the sight of the muscular naked tribesmen being `scourged' and `crucified'. After the ceremony the congregation seemed to melt away very rapidly, until just Brother Mac and the boys were left with the priest, helping to carry chairs and other things into the church hall. While Smiley, Ballas and John were in the hall, stacking chairs and bemoaning the fact that they could not remove their cassocks because they were naked underneath and had not brought shorts with them on the bus, they heard a commotion outside. There were raised voices and squeaky yells of alarm from some of the boys. They heard the local priest angrily remonstrating with someone. As he did so a shot rang out and the priest's voice fell silent. The three boys in the hall scampered over to the nearest window and looked outside. There were a number of armed men in non-descript camouflage clothing who had herded the choir boys together around Brother Mac, who was holding his arms out as if trying to protect them all. Face down on the ground in front of the steps in the hall was the local priest, a pool of dark blood forming in the dust beneath his torso. Some of the boys were crying. They watched as two of the armed men moved toward Brother Mac and dragged him away from the boys. Many of the boys held onto his black cassock but the armed men brutally beat them back with the butts of their rifles. They took Brother Mac into the church hall. `Then they came into the hall and pulled us three out to join the others. They laughed to see I pissed the front of my cassock wet. We had to walk through that blood in the sand with our bare feet! It was gross! John vomited right there. When we got to the other boys I saw I wasn't the only one pissed myself. Some of the boys was crying. Some was vomiting. Some was just standing staring like they seen a ghost' `We was so scared waiting outside there. We didn't know what they was gonna do with us. A couple of them was arguing with each other ... I think about what to do with us. Then they came to us. They made us all take off our choir clothes and throw them on the ground. We was all standing there naked and they was laughing at us ... they was laughing `cause we was brown all over from the sun except the white bit around our middle where we weared our Speedos. They said we looked funny. I s'pose we did. We wasn't laughing though.' `Then they made us form a single file with our hands tied together behind our backs. They joined a rope ... like ... from my hands at my back to the neck of the boy behind me. When we was all tied together like this in a long chain they made us start walking into the bush.' `We walked all day like that for many days ... I dunno how many ... it was a few weeks maybe. I dunno where they took us. We kept moving day and night to get away from the soldiers. For the first few days they made us run most of the time. They chased us with samboks. They wouldn't untie our hands even though it slowed us down. We got no food those first few days ... just some water now and then ... now and then we would stop and rest for an hour maybe. We would just stop on the track and we would just fall down right there and go to sleep.' `Then we came to an area where they said the soldiers wouldn't go and we went slower and only walked in the day. They untied our hands an' just tied the ropes to our necks. They stopped at night and made fires and cooked food an' we got some little food too.' `Then while we's lying there with the ropes round our necks, some of the men comes and chooses one of us to go sleep with him. He unties your rope and then he takes you away into the bush where he's gonna sleep ... then he fucks your arse with his huge dong the whole night so you can hardly walk the next day!' `Ja!' added Ballas, `Brother Mac had a man-size cock but he had nothing on those okes! We never seen such big cocks before then ... never mind had one up our bums! Fuckit, that was sore!' `And `specially that first week or two when we got so sunburnt on our bums from walking naked in the sun all day', said Smiley, `That made it even more sore!' `Those guys didn't give a damn about that', said Ballas, `An' if we screamed or cried out loud they beat us ... we learnt to scream into our hands that time!' The boys related how, after a seemingly endless trudge through the tsetse-infested bushveld of what I deduced was probably Northern Mozambique, they finally arrived at a more or less permanent camp, where they were kept for about a month or two. One of their guards on the forced march through the bush had taken a particular shine to Smiley. Apparently he really appreciated Smiley's sexual eagerness and inventiveness, something which made Smiley a popular fuck among all the guards on that march. This guard informed Smiley at some point that Brother Mac had been spared in order to take back a ransom demand to be given to the Rhodesian government. This particular faction of the insurrection in Mozambique had high hopes that the Rhodesians (either the government, or the boys' parents, or both) would pay a large sum of money for the return of their beautiful boys, quite obviously the flower of Rhodesian colonial youth. For the next month or two the boys therefore lived in high hopes of the Rhodesian government coming to their rescue and securing their return to Umtali. It was not to be, however. These were not the sons of the rich and powerful. Quite the opposite, in fact, and the Rhodesian government had better things to do with the millions of dollars being demanded. So they fell back on the convenient but understandable old `We don't negotiate with terrorists' line, and abandoned Smiley and his mates to their fate. They went further and hushed the whole thing up so it did not even get into the newspapers at the time. A bunch of orphans and delinquent misfits without parents to clamour for action or information would not be missed. A handsome donation of funds for a project of the Brothers' choosing and the suggestion that it was in the interest of State Security that the thing be kept quiet `for now' ensured the silence of the Brothers. The Brothers were told that negotiations were in a sensitive stage and that breaking silence about the matter might actually jeopardize what slim chance there was to secure the boys' safe return. Back in the camp of the `freedom fighters', of course, the news was not well received. There was heated debate about what to do with the boys: Some favoured keeping them as slaves to do the menial work around the camp and, more importantly, continue to provide the sexual services that they had been doing. Others thought they should be tortured and killed and their mutilated bodies dumped at the Rhodesian border post to show the world that they should be taken seriously in future. The terrified boys' worst fears seemed to be on the point of being realised when they were paraded one morning in front of the whole camp and it was announced that the District Revolutionary Judicial Council had decreed that they were to be tortured and executed to atone for the oppression of the indigenous peoples by the white imperialist colonialist dogs who happened to be their forebears. The boys, mostly between the ages of 9 and 11 at this time, had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. They stood dumbly, wondering what was happening, as three heavy old wooden doors were brought out and laid on the ground in front of the crumbling mud brick wall of the old Colonial building at the centre of the camp. The hinges and doorknobs had been removed and the very solid old doors lay flat on the ground. Smiley, Ballas and John, who happened to be the first three boys in line, were pushed forward and made to stand at the foot of a door each. These three boys, among others, had been made gifts of colourful kikoys by fighters who had enjoyed their sexual services on a more or less frequent basis. They were now stripped of their kikoys and each was made to lie face down on one of the doors. With one man to each limb, the boys were spread-eagled against the doors and held firmly in that position. `I thought we was gonna be fucked by maybe the whole camp, Baba, while the men held us down!' said Smiley, `My cock was already rock hard under me an' I was grinning like I was getting ice cream!' Smiley was sufficiently unconcerned to notice that there was a man with a camera who was taking photographs of every step of the proceedings. He even grinned up at the man. So sexually excited were the boys that they did not even realise at first that the men restraining them were hammering large nails through their hands and feet to secure them to the heavy wooden doors. `The nails was nearly all in before I even started feeling the pain', said Smiley. `Ja ... ` added Ballas, `Even then it wasn't too bad while the doors was still flat on the ground ... I still had my boner on then!' `Ja, me too', said Smiley, `But when they lifted the door to lean against the wall ... fuck, that was sore! My cock just went soft right away and we was all screaming with the pain ... I mean our bodies was hanging on the nails through our hands and feet!' `Then they started whipping us with the samboks!' Ballas said, `Now that was sore! We screamed until we couldn't scream no more. I couldn't count how many lashes but afterward our mates counted over fifty stripes. The blood was running down our backs and our arses onto our legs! I still got some marks from that time!' `Ja, I thought we was gonna die!' Smiley added, `Then after a while I wished I would die just to stop the pain!' `Poor little John was only 9 ... he kept fainting and then they had to chuck water on him to wake him up again!' said Ballas, `They didn't want him to miss anything!' When finally the whipping stopped the doors were lowered to the ground again. Thinking their ordeal was over, the three boys sobbed in relief. But their relief did not last. They lifted their heads to see a man arrive clutching three thick wooden stakes, about a metre long, which had been roughly whittled to a sharp point at one end. They recognised the man as the chief of the camp. Another man came behind him carrying what looked like a thick wooden baton. The man with the stakes stopped next to Smiley, dropped his stakes on the ground and went down on his knees beside the boy. Smiley watched the man tearfully over his shoulder, his hands and feet still firmly nailed to the door though the pain was almost eclipsed by the searing agony of the fifty or more welts overlaying his back and buttocks like red hot poker strokes. Then the camp chief picked up one of the stakes and bent over Smiley as he roughly inserted two fingers into Smiley's anus and moved them in and out and around, stretching his anal ring to make an opening for the sharp point of the stake. Smiley's cock instinctively hardened although the rough-hewn point hurt somewhat as the man jiggled it into place. Then, holding the pointed end just inside Smiley's anus, the man reached to the butt of the stake with his other hand and gave it a couple of hard bangs with the palm of his hand. Smiley gasped with the pain as the rough wood tore at the flesh of his anus. Satisfied that the stake was firmly in place the chief got slowly to his feet while Smiley moaned softly in pain. He reached out to take the baton from his assistant. He planted his booted feet on either side of Smiley's waist, facing down the boy's spread-apart legs. Then he reached down and gave the butt of the stake a firm tap with the baton that he was using as a mallet. Smiley shrieked in pain as the stake gouged its way deeper into his arse. The chief handed the baton back to his assistant and lit up a cigarette while Smiley's screams died to a whimper. The aim was evidently to draw out the agony and make the execution by impalement last as long as possible. Just then there was a ripple of excitement among the assembled men as a big important-looking man in crisp uniform strode purposefully up accompanied by what looked like his body guard. The camp chief tossed his cigarette aside, drew himself up and gave the newcomer what passed for a salute. `Good morning, General!' he said obsequiously. `So it is true!' the general spat out. `I did not believe the report so I came to see for myself! Who authorised this madness?' `It ... it ...was a decision of the ... the ... Judicial Council, General', the camp chief stuttered. `To hell with them!', the general shouted, `This is a matter for me to decide!' `I ... I ... don't think ... uh ...', the camp chief stammered. `Get out of my sight, you useless piece of shit!' the general yelled, `How dare you argue with me! Someone release these boys! If you have damaged this one so much that I have to shoot him I am going to shoot you as well!' It turned out that the general owned an alluvial diamond mine and had decided that, since he could not get a ransom for the boys he would send them to work on the mine as slave labour alongside the captured sons of Portuguese colonials that he had working there already. At night they would swell the ranks of the boy prostitutes in the bordello that he ran as a side business. In any event he was himself growing tired of rogering the same boys' bottoms every night and was eager for fresh meat. He was incensed that the camp chief may have permanently spoiled the boy and annoyed that he may have to put Smiley down if the stake could not be extracted without causing permanent damage. Luckily the stake had not gone too deeply into Smiley's well-used anus and could be dislodged after a lot of agonizing jiggling and much lubrication. The rough wood had left his sphincter somewhat grazed and bleeding, but the damage was considered to be roughly equivalent to what a novice bum boy might endure on first penetration and he was adjudged sufficiently healthy to depart with the rest of the boys later on the same day for the general's mine. `Lucky it wasn't far' Ballas added, `'cause our feet was still sore from the nail holes in them!'. I looked from one boy to the other and then put my arms around them both and pulled them in close to me. `I'm so, so sorry, boys ... my goodness, that must have been terrible! To have to undergo such a horrifying experience at such a young age ...! But you're safe now and no one is going to harm you again while I have any say in it!' They submitted to my hug wordlessly. They even put their arms around me and gave me a half-hearted hug in return. There was no emotion in it and their faces were deadpan ... like they had heard it all before. I suddenly realised that many of the hundreds of men whose sexual needs they would have serviced in the mine camp bordellos over the years would also have hugged them and murmured empty words of sympathy and even of love to them. They had indeed heard it all before ... why would I turn out to be any different, they would be thinking! I sighed to myself, knowing it was going to take time to win their trust. Andre had made it clear that these two boys were going to be part of my share and I had already decided I was taking John. I would let Dirk and Johan choose the other two. But I had come to a new decision concerning the boys I had now acquired from Andre. I was going to take the whole lot of them with us on Skobbejak. I counted off the new boys on my fingers: There were Andre's orphaned nephews: Heinke, Wikus and Marnus. There were the three slave boys from the villa: Rudi, Aleixo and Marco. And now the five who were my share of the fifteen boys I had just picked up from Limpopo River mouth. An extra eleven boys to bunk and feed on our voyage to Madagascar! I had some planning to do. But for now, there were other things to think about: Ballas had rolled over to lie on his belly between my outstretched legs and was sucking my balls one by one into his wide mouth while Smiley was on his knees next to me with both hands around my erected shaft, lapping at my swollen cockhead with his cute pink tongue ...