Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2005 18:15:28 -0800 (PST) From: Steve Storyman Subject: Boys' Joys And Sorrows At Sex Ed. School - Chapter 8 Boys' Joys And Sorrows At Sex Ed. School - Chapter 8 by Steve Storyman stevestoryman@yahoo.com (text only) Copyright 2005 Steve Storyman March 19, 2005 DISCLAIMER: This story is for adults only. If it is not legal for you to read erotic stories, or you are not of legal age to read this type of story either where you reside or are accessing this page, or are offended by male to male sex, spanking, or other application of pain or pleasure to the body, homosexual or otherwise, then click off this page, and do not read this story. Contains gay sex scenes. Other standard disclaimers apply. _________________________________________________________________ My email address: stevestoryman@yahoo.com (text only) I'll reply to all substantial. (If you're using a friend's email account, or some such, and would prefer that I don't write back, please tell me.) Your email address is private and confidential. I do not share, copy, or sell email addresses. No one sees them, or your messages, but me. IF YOU DIDN'T GET A REPLY: I try to be organized, but I may have missed replying to you, so if you didn't get an answer and would like to hear back from me, just let me know. If possible, please also paste in a copy of the unanswered message. Your email is THE ONLY feedback, input, incentive, or reward available to keep up my enthusiasm for writing the stories. It's been my pleasure to get the emails I've received so far. Thank you. Please--more are needed. Thank you, Steve _______________________________________________________________ Below is a full list (dramatis personae), not an indication of the number of people with active roles in a given chapter. Jeremy Miles, Headmaster, Miles Academy Alan Richards, 25, assistant to Mr. Miles Phil Wertz, 21, supervisor PHIL'S BOYS: Brent Hallman, 17, student to have "conversion" ritual Darren Donner, 16, falsely accused Phillip Ankleton, 14, student helper, blond hair Michael Lanikker, 13, student helper, darker hair MISCELLANEOUS ** Hans a boy in Phil's past Mark Ericmann, 22, teacher MARK'S BOYS: (7, out of a total of 16 students) Ethan Dremmond, 17, student, wise guy Simon Kelms, 17, student with a big lap, resembles Brent Tyler Adamson, 16, student with lowest grades in his class Dennis Rex, 16, tall, well-endowed student, basketball player Sean Ballinger, 15, student, rewarded Kyle Roland, 15, student, a cute bottom Greg Forsythe, 15, Dennis Rex's roommate OTHERS: Mark Wrent, 19, student, good build, very well-endowed Todd Farmsway, 17, being punished in 14 y/o dorm Dylan Wentworth, 14, document delivery boy Jared Taylor, 14, residing in the 14 y/o's dorm * Brian Gyouvanos, 14, a boy Phil has fun with Ryan Ropersfield, 13, in training, visiting the 14 y/o's dorm with his supervisor and Jared Taylor * new in this chapter ** mentioned only (in the previous chapter) _______________________________________________________________ IF YOU'RE INTERESTED, SEE UPDATED LIST OF ALL MY STORIES AT END OF CHAPTER _______________________________________________________________ FROM THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER I enjoyed overpowering him this way; enjoyed the taste and feel of his rock-hard penis; every one of Brian's moans and raspy, sexy breaths over the 45 seconds that it took to suck him off. His knees gave out--the restraints kept him upright--as his sweat dripped to my hands and he blew the first of his cum into my mouth. He gave me three more blasts of sweet semen, and I thrilled to the boy's squeals, writhing body, and pulsating penis, as the throbs of orgasm continued long after his ejaculation ended. "Someone will be here to let you down," I said, sucking and kissing his nipples. Brian was still gasping for breath as I left the room. I was numb as I walked down the hall, wondering what I'd done. Mark met me at the door as I entered training room three. "The ritual's delayed another hour," he said. "I know. Miles told me." [FROM CH. 7] _______________________________________________________________ For Peter CHAPTER 8 A FEW INTERESTING EVENTS AND THEN: BRENT'S RITUAL I decided not to tell Mark about my session with Brian. Brian satisfied a need that had been brewing all day, yet I had a few guilt feelings about the impersonality of it. I felt more relaxed though, now that the boys were in the good hands of Miles and his staff, leaving me alone with Mark Ericmann. We had fast become close. "So you had your talk with Brent--did you find out anything new?" "No--he was pretty tight-lipped. He did say that he agreed to do some things tonight that he had to keep secret." "How's he doing?" "He's scared, but he's looking forward to giving his first oral sex. He's confident," I said with a self-satisfied grin. "Looking forward to the sex? Congratulations. That's extremely significant, Phil. You've really worked wonders with him." "Coming from you, that's a great compliment--thanks, Mark." "I'm sure he'll hold up well." "I agree--he may be just seventeen, but he's strong." "That he is." "Hang on Mark--I have a quick errand to run." Such things were routine, and there was no need for Mark to reply. I raced down the hall and opened the door to the very small training room. Brian was still there, restrained and looking perplexed, his red-faced appearance matching his somewhat rapid breathing, though it had slowed considerably from its rate, minutes before. "Brian--are you all right?" "You came back for me," Brian said with the simplicity of a boy much younger than his 13 years, his perplexed look now blending with a sort of happy smile, proud perhaps. "Yes, you're exactly who I came back for." "Why?" "I was worried," I said, getting him out of the restraints. "Oh." I could see this acutely baffled him, yet a faint boyish smile remained. "Worried that I rushed things," I said, "and didn't tell you how much I . . . that you . . . that I like you, and I like what we did." The truth was that *I* had done something. Brian was more or less an innocent bystander. "I liked it a lot! Um . . . sorry I don't know your name, sir." "You're supposed to call me Mr. Wertz when it's not 'sir,' but just call me Phil." "Oh, well--are you *sure,* sir?" "I'm sure. Are you okay?" I said, feeling my anxiety carving itself into my face. This gave the boy pause. "You care about me!" "Of course. You're a beautiful and wonderful boy." At this, he grinned, his hand going to his penis for whatever reason. Nevertheless, he was charming. "I'm glad you think I am," he said hesitantly, his boyish blush captivating me, "but I don't think of myself that way." "Well, you are, Brian." "What's wonderful about me?" "You're very sweet, brave, willing to go along with new, maybe scary things." "I've been sucked before." "Yes, I'm sure--but I practically kidnapped you!" "Oh. I thought that part was fun. I knew you wouldn't really hurt me, even though I was scared." "Really, now? That makes you even more wonderful, and you came so powerfully." "Oh, that. I can do that a lot. Wanna do it again?" "Sorry, boy. I must go now. Tell your supervisor code 999, room 335. He'll know what that means. Tell him to keep trying." "Yes, sir." I left him. The code I gave him would tell his supervisor to save Brian for me--for a late-night session--if he didn't have a previous commitment. I had added that he should keep calling until I answered. In less than a minute, I returned to Mark in training room three. "Any news?" I said, looking around at our four restrained boys. "None. Let's talk in private." "Sure." We went to the utility rooms. "Phil, I was thinking--since we have some time, why don't we go over the possibilities of the choices Brent might make for his first sex partners--especially the ones he might reject." "Okay," I said, looking puzzled. "If Brent rejects a boy, your tendency will be to feel hurt. It'll be easier on you emotionally if you have it thought out in advance." "Good idea. I think my weakest choices are Phillip and Michael. I feel they're right for Brent, but they WERE his tormentors, and he knows them fairly well--they won't be as new and exciting as maybe some of Miles' alternates." "You may be right, Phil. They're cute little devils, though." "Yeah," I said with a nervous smile. "But Simon, Dennis, and the seventeen-year-old standbys will be tough competition for Phillip and Michael." "I suppose." "I think Brent will go for Simon--he's cute, and he looks so much like Brent. I'd bet on Simon." "I would too. I'm a little more concerned about Dennis. His monster cock might be a problem, Phil." "Maybe. Brent likes a challenge, remember?" "Yes, but this will be in front of dozens of students." "Okay--you twisted my arm. I won't count on Brent picking Dennis." "We agree then. I'm more worried about Brent's technique." "Technique?" "Sure--he's never sucked dick before. He has to make those boys come, remember?" "Oh, that. Brent's intelligent. I have a feeling he learns very quickly. I think he absorbed what he felt on HIS cock, while the boys and I teased him--I don't think he'll have a problem translating what he felt from our mouths into what he should to with HIS mouth. He really is smart. Have you ever talked with Brent for any length of time?" "No . . . that's right--you interviewed him! How was that?" "I felt very enlightened." "Well, you're new." "No, it was more than that. Brent's a deep thinker, and very sharp. Under that slim jock body and rough language there's a hell of a good mind." "I had a feeling that was the case. I guess there's no need to worry--all those boys will have eggs. That'll help them come." "It better!" "I bet you don't know what I'm thinking, Phil." "You're right." "We still have lots of time. And, uh--YOU have Darren," Mark said expectantly. "Hell, yes. Let's go." "Phil, there's something I want to pick up first." "Uh, oh--am I gonna like this?" I knew he meant something for my scene with Darren. "Oh, yes. I want it to be a surprise." "Okay, I guess," I said, doubt in my voice. Mark went to the utility area and came out with a box. "This may solve a problem for you." "I take it you're not going to show me now." "Right--I wasn't going to--" "But we can't discuss it in front of Brent. Not at the last minute." "I promise, we'll go into the foyer and I'll show it to you when the time comes--if I think you can use it." "Okay, that's fair," I said, burning with curiosity. This time, we heard nothing as we approached to door to my room. "I don't hear any moans," I said to Mark. "Maybe I chose too mild a setting for that stim ring on his balls?" "We'll see." As we entered my suite, we could hear Darren moaning through the door to my training area. "It's not very loud," I said. "Let's open the door." "Uhhh! Uhhh! Oh, fuck! Ahhh!" In the brief bits of silence between Darren's moans, I could hear the low hum of the stim ring I had placed around his scrotum. It rested gently on top of his balls, which had swollen somewhat from the relentless stimulation. The boy was straining at his bonds, moving his head oddly, as if trying to shake a fly off his nose. "AH! Awrrrhh." The lad's erection had reddened and become unusually enlarged, giving the appearance of a highly teased cock. Pre-cum flowed steadily from its upward-pointing tip, down the shaft, and to his nut sac, where it dripped into a good-sized puddle that had formed while I was away. "What's up Darren," I said, trying to sound casual. "Shit! That thing's killing me! My balls hurt really bad! And I gotta pee, something fierce." The pain was not directly from the mild vibration of the stim ring. The hose was still hooked up to the end of his dick, but I knew what the problem was. "That's what the hose is for, boy. Just let loose." "I'm so hard, I CAN'T!" "He needs some stimulation," I said to Mark. "Yes." "No! God--please, sir!" "Darren--if you come, you'll be whipped. Now get some control!" We knelt in front of the boy. Mark started in on his balls, licking softly, while I let my lips slowly descend on Darren's desperate penis. "No! NO! Aw, God--please, no!" "That ought to hold him," I said, after a minute of pleasuring the boy, his cock bouncing angrily, his chest heaving for breath. "Uhhh! AH! FUCK!" "And he doesn't usually cuss," I said. "We have something to look at," Mark said. "Let's go to the foyer." With the door shut to the training area, Mark opened the box and showed me its contents. I saw a sheet of Zeflon, a very slick material, about eight inches wide, a foot tall, and one-quarter inch thick, sitting on its edge. The edge facing up was rounded, very smooth, and protruded three inches above the top of the box. But I saw nothing useful about this. "You gotta be kidding! What the hell is this thing?" I said, glaring at Mark. "I'll show you. It has its own power supply, but since we have outlets available, I'll plug it in." The Zeflon sheet swung forward and backward, as one would swing a hand-held fan to cool off outside in hot weather. The sheet was hinged at its bottom edge. "Makes a nice breeze, Mark, but--are you pulling one over on me?" "You can vary the speed. All you need is the--oh! Sorry, Phil. You probably don't know you have one. There's a big closet in the back-left corner of your training area. The entrance blends with the wall. In there, there's lots of things. One of them is an Ollie chair." "Okay, I'll bite. What's an Ollie chair?" "It's used for many purposes. Named after Oliver DuLure of the French Revolution. It looks a bit like a toilet seat--the seat of the chair is mostly an open hole. The male subject sits on it. Now picture this box under the chair." "Holy shit!" It had come to me all at once. "His balls!" "Sure! It's nice and gentle--just gives little taps to the scrotum each time it flaps past. Even set at top speed, you wouldn't feel much for the first minute or two." "Okay--and after that?" I was puzzled. "It's psychological--it never stops. The repetition gets to your subject--'tap, tap, tap, tap.' He THINKS something is supposed to hurt. After a while, it does, very moderately--but his thought makes it worse than it is. The pain never gets too bad, but he'll still beg for mercy after some time on this little device. It's called a 'ball teaser.'" "Wow." "Because it's made of pure Zeflon and has that rounded edge, there's no chance of irritating the skin. It even has a little strap to hold the penis out of the way--in the rare event the subject should go soft." "This is perfect, man," I said in awe, and feeling my juices flowing. Even at one-quarter inch thickness, the Zeflon sheet was very flexible--further ensuring gentle treatment of a boy's precious organs. Mark showed me the back way to the big equipment closet, and I used it to prevent Darren from seeing what I was up to, before I was ready to spring it on him. I spotted the chair quickly, and we soon had it set up in my foyer. Mark held the door open as I took the thing to Darren. "Oh, no--not that! Those chairs are bad news, man! NO!" "This will help your erection go down, Darren," I said very reassuringly. The boy just hung his head, breaths shallow and rapid with fear, and trying his best not to complain, lest he make things worse for himself. I rearranged Darren's restraints and Mark guided the trembling boy into the chair. There was no reaction when I showed Darren the box. Apparently, he had not seen the ball teaser before. I set the speed to 'low.' As soon as I turned the device on, I heard gentle, rhythmic tapping sounds. Mark and I watched Darren for a reaction. Soon, a little smile appeared on his face. "That's good, Darren. You SHOULD be happy. This will help you make progress." Mark left to go to the kitchen for some coffee, explaining that I had a coffee dispenser similar to the one he'd used earlier in the break room. "How does that feel, Darren?" "It feels . . . pretty nice, sir," the lad said with a bigger smile. "Good." Mark returned, and we sat down to enjoy our coffee, waiting for the ball teaser to take effect. After a total of four minutes on the thing, Darren's face began to change. "OW! Sir, I think, oh! Sir--it's hurting. Uhhh!" "It's tolerable though, yes?" "Y-yes, sir!" Darren said, straining with effort. "Good, I'm glad to hear it, boy. That cock needs to come down. It needs a rest. It needs your control." Another two minutes passed. "Oh, OH! Sir--please! It--it's getting worse!" The boy's erection had not softened. "I have it on the lowest speed, Darren," I said in my best comforting voice. "If your dick gets soft within the next five minutes, I can let you come again." "Oh, yes!" Darren shouted. "Yes--sir, please, turn up the speed!" "Very well, boy." I set the ball teaser to medium speed. "Ah! Oh, God! That's v-very . . . hard to take, sir!" Mark whispered to me, explaining that even with the pain Darren was experiencing, the taps to his testes were gentle enough that the vibrations stimulated his penis. "Hard to take? Don't you want your cock to go down, Darren--so you can come?" "Oh--oh, yes, sir!" he said, as if he'd forgotten. In less that a minute, Darren was complaining again. "Sir--I don't know if I can take it! OW!" "We better give him some relief," Mark said, furtively showing me a tube of itch cream. >From my own experience of having the stuff applied to me, I knew itch cream was nasty. It wasn't harmful in any way, but it created a deep, nagging, unrelenting itch, and could drive a boy half out of his mind if he had no way to scratch himself. "Yes," I said, taking the tube from Mark, "the poor lad needs something to distract him from the pain in his nuts." "God, NO!" Darren screamed, seeing and recognizing the tube. "Don't put that on me! Get that stuff away from me." "You need some relief from your pain, Darren," Mark said, handing me a pair of thin, plastic gloves. "Yes, Darren," I said, "I'll make sure this takes your mind off your balls--then they won't hurt so much." The boy pleaded as I put the gloves on, and began to shout in fear as I applied it to his balls, and the underside of his cock. In addition to the itching, Darren would experience a mild erotic stimulation. The cream was slow-acting. The boy's eyes were wild with trepidation. "You did the right thing," Mark said. "Yes." As the minutes passed, the effect became dramatic. "Oh, NO! Aw, fuck! FUCK! Get that shit off me! AWRRRGHHHH!!" "I want to see your nice penis all soft when I get back," I said as Mark and I made our exit. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" "You can hear him NOW," Mark said as we made our way down the hall. "Will he be okay overnight?" "Probably not. You're going to be away that long?" "I was planning on it." "Use code 605 at the terminal, and speak some instructions. That will get a sentinel to check on him at the times you specify." I punched in 605. "What should I say?" "Give your room number, and say that you want him to check on Darren every hour, starting now--and to stop the ball teaser and remove the itch cream if Darren gets too desperate." I spoke into the thing, leaving the message for the sentinel. "Who are these sentinels?" "Very trustworthy supervisors whose duty it is to wander around, looking for any problems to correct--upset boys that need comforting, arguments to settle, little wounds to be treated-- when they're not busy checking on scenes like yours." We finally returned training room three and greeted our boys--all robed. They seemed comfortable in their restraints--but very glad to see us. "Wow, just in time," Mark said, as the yellow lights flashed. Mark released the boys as I went to the door and verified the visitors' document. Eight guards had showed up--two for each boy. I was glad for the extra-tight security. I had a last minute talk with Phillip and Michael, reassuring them that no stressful demands would be made on them. Mark spoke with his boys. We watched them all leave. Our robed foursome looked quite good walking with the nicely uniformed guards. Blue lights flashed in the small training room. Mark explained that probably meant the ritual was about to begin. A call to Miles confirmed that. "Well, we don't have far to walk." As we neared Brent's training room--the site of the ritual--Mark and I were ushered into the room across the hall from it, where we were given ceremonial red robes to wear, and a brief explanation of protocol for the ritual. We then entered Brent's training room. The place was stunning. I could not believe the transformation. One could tell something weighty and significant was about to happen. The top half of each wall was covered with a black fabric. Various ornate symbols overlaid the black surface, interspersed with artistic representations of boys in various training, punishment, and sexual positions. In each corner was a marble statue of a naked boy, accompanied by a large plant in a polished brass pot. Guards in dress uniform were everywhere. A black carpet covered the entire floor, and special lighting had been installed--all of which gave the room a stately, momentous look. Other decorations enhanced the ceremonial air of the place. The presence of a small orchestra signaled a festive occasion. Three walls of the room framed the area of activity. Specially dressed 18-year-old ushers gave each staff member a diagram of the ritual, then stood by. RITUAL ROOM (Brent's Training Room) _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ | | | xxxx Student audience (naked, standing) xxxxxxxxx | | xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx | | xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx | | xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx | | xxxx (standing) | | xxxx Seated staff (red robes) Semi-circle | | xxxx x x x x x x x x x x x x of 17 y/os | | xxxx x x x x x x x x x (naked) | | xxxx x x x | | xxxx x x x | | xxxx -------------- x x x | | | x | x x x | | | Brent's area | x x x | | -------------- x | | (Brent faces staff) | | | Lineup | | of selected boys in white | | Cross or blue robes, (standing) | | + Simon Kelms, 17 | | (not used Dennis Rex, 16 | | in ritual) Phillip Ankleton, 14 | | Michael Lanikker, 13 | . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "I don't see our boys," I said, scanning the room. "They can't see the whole ritual. They'll be brought in later, remember?" I nodded, embarrassed that'd I'd forgotten. Only the quickly-growing student audience and staff were present as Mark and I were shown to our seats. There were chairs for the staff that formed three rows at one end of the central area. Mark Ericmann was seated next to me. Miles and his assistant would occupy the front two chairs. All but staff would stand for the entire ritual. "Damn," I said, "Poor Brent will be surrounded!" "Don't worry, Phil." "Easy for YOU to say." "Oh, I see on the diagram they only have our four selected boys listed," Mark said, noting the fifth boy was not shown on the drawing. "I guess Miles wants his boy to be a total surprise," I whispered to Mark. I noticed a set of guards at the entrance, giving something to all the entering students who had come to witness the ritual. "What are they handing out to the students?" Mark responded with a very sly grin. "Little plastic cups." "Yes but something is sticking out of them." "Three-inch wide tube." "Mark--don't get cryptic on me. What are those things?" "You can figure this out, Phil. What those students in the audience will see tonight is a lot of sensual action, right?" "Yeah," I said, a question in my voice. "And they're boys of ages 17 to 23 or so--a very horny group, yes?" "Yes, okay. So?" "Come on, Phil. What do horny boys like to do when they're turned on?" "Holy shit! Those are jerk-off cups? You're not serious." "Yes. I'm serious. We call 'em cum-catchers." "Fuck," I muttered softly. "We like to treat our students right when there's a ceremony. Saves on cleanup, too. Some boys will come but won't need the cups." "I'm not gonna try to figure that one out." "Some brought friends who have very good hands--or like to get on their knees." "That's allowed, too?" "As long as it doesn't get too noisy." "I feel sorry for the ones in chastity belts." About 20 percent of the student-audience wore the clumsy devices, and were probably attending the ritual as part of their training or punishment. Some of the students were already being treated to some vigorous hand action by a friend. Some indulged in solo masturbation for a short period, getting themselves hard or just having some fun in public, so to speak--taking in the admiring glances of others less brave, I supposed. "What's that sound?" "The five-minute warning bell." The ritual room filled up quickly after that. I was having a good time looking at the naked students walking in, and those already in their places, playing amongst themselves. A small number of the entering boys were erect, or nearly so. The orchestra played a chord, announcing the entrance of Miles and his assistant, Alan Richards. The lights dimmed, and a small spotlight was on Jeremy Miles, who stood. "We will first see the backup group of boys--those who will be potential recipients of our later festivities. These were specially selected for tonight's ritual, and all have had their Endorlone devices installed." "I'm sure you know, but, he means the egg," Mark whispered. A uniformed guard accompanied each of the ten 17-year-olds--all fine looking specimens of late adolescence, and of course, each with a very erect penis. The guards took them to their assigned places, as the audience applauded. The swing and bounce of the boys' erections were quite charming. Some blushed as they walked, and a few remained red-faced afterward as they stood and waited in place. The ten, very attractive 17-year-old boys stood in a semi-circle at a right angle to the staff, near the center of the room, facing Brent's designated area, and to the right of it. These young men comprised Brent's reserve group. Should Brent reject any of the boys we had selected for him, he would be free to choose to suck any number of these, instead. I began to drool, watching these captivating lads. "And now," Miles said, "our subject--Brent Hallman." The applause began even before Brent appeared--wearing a hooded, brown-colored robe, trimmed in black and white, flanked by a guard on either side of him. Brent's face was partially obscured by the hood. The guards placed a chain on each of Brent's wrists, but left the ends unattached or joined to anything, as they put him in his assigned place in the center of the room, about 15 feet to the left of the semi-circle of boys. Brent's wrist chains hung loose to allow freedom of movement--but Brent with those chains on created an image of a boy shackled. The unjoined chains would also permit easy removal of the robe. Mark explained that the shackled image symbolized Brent's lack of status--that he was not permitted to mingle with all the students because of his straight classification--his hands were tied, so to speak. This of course would change tonight. Brent went to his knees and bent to the floor, chains clanking noisily for a moment--his elbows and forearms flat on the black carpet, his hooded head resting on his hands. It was quite a humble-looking pose. Above Brent was a pair of rings, identical to a gymnast's. Next to these, a pair of suspension cuffs--used to hang, or suspend a boy by his wrists; often these were raised by a winch, pulling the boy upward until his feet were several inches or so off the floor. Both pairs of items hung from thick, strong chains. The crowd of naked students--ages 17 to about 24--formed the majority of observers. With certain exceptions, notably the selected boys in their robes, nakedness was required of all but the staff. All ten of the 17-year-olds in the semi-circle had full erections because of the eggs which were inserted in them earlier. This group did not yet include the four robed boys Mark and I had selected to receive Brent's inaugural oral attentions; nor did it include the fifth boy, whom Miles had chosen, and whose identity was still unknown to us. Mark had told me that eggs were inserted in all students whom Brent might suck, to ensure that a recipient boy's dick would not go soft from a case of stage fright or other stress. Jeremy Miles' made his opening announcement. "This is the welcoming and sexual inauguration ritual for seventeen-year-old Brent Hallman, a strong, sensual young man of good character, with superior rankings in academics, football, and track. Brent is attested by his supervisor, Phillip Wertz, to be worthy of the title of Mister--to attain full status as a sexually active student in good standing at Miles Academy, which he shall do this evening. The ritual will begin." In the opening announcement, there wasn't a big deal made of the fact that Brent would soon perform his first male to male sex, nor that he'd been straight all his life, including his first three years at Miles--everyone knew that. The significance, formality, and elegance of the occasion was in its simplicity. The lights dimmed except for the central area. Two beautiful students, ages 13 and 21, made their entrance--each wearing only black swimwear, similar to bikini briefs, trimmed in gold. Either they had very large penises or they had been given Endorlone--the organs clearly and sensuously outlined in their skimpy garments, giving the impression they desired Brent. The two boys faced Brent from a distance of about five feet. A single trumpet played a solemn note. Responding to the sound, Brent looked up at the pair of boys, who each extended one of their arms toward Brent. Brent reached his right arm toward the two, his hand touching theirs. Many trumpets played a musical chord that seemed to energize Brent, who rose somewhat--still on his knees with his upper torso now erect--as he looked more intently at the two boys. Their three hands then clasped together, and a louder, more majestic chord sounded. Extending his other arm, Brent stood, taking a boy's hand in each of his. The pair and Brent nodded to each other solemnly. Brent looked quite manly, standing next to the other two, but he began to lean his body backward, away from them. He tried his best to tighten his grasp on their hands, but eventually, his hands slipped free of theirs, and he fell. The boys still had their arms out to Brent. Brent broke the fall with his hands out behind him, and sat on the floor, staring at the handsome pair. The two boys looked at Brent, and slowly put their outstretched arms at their sides. Brent held his arms out toward the two--as if yearning for them, beckoning them. Then came a single, soft trumpet sound, somewhat mournful, when the two lads turned their backs on Brent, and slowly made their exit. Brent lowered his head, as if in shame. Of course, the 13-year-old would not be permitted to return for the rest of the ritual. Two 17-year-olds from the semi-circle came forward and helped Brent stand. In a series of graceful steps, they ceremoniously removed Brent's robe, revealing that he wore swimwear underneath, similar to the two boys who had just made their exit--but Brent's was white, trimmed in gold. His flaccid penis made an impressive, alluring bulge in the small garment. Brent's slim, athletic, semi-naked body drew an energetic round of applause. The applause grew more appreciative when Brent turned his back to us, displaying the marks from the whipping I'd given him earlier. Mark and I noticed something at the same time--a cord that hung between Brent's legs, down to his knees. We could see it, even though it hung from behind him. "The boy will choose the restraint cuffs or rings," Miles announced. The pair of 17-year-olds removed Brent's wrist chains. The handsome duo stood at attention as the orchestra played a short interlude. Brent jumped up to put his hands in the rings, and grasped them expertly. The audible hum of a winch motor explained why Brent began to rise--the motion stopping when his feet were about 20 inches off the floor--his grip on the rings obviously important now. Brent hung there, looking vulnerable. The placement of the rings had Brent facing the staff--the group of reserve 17-year-olds to his right, and the audience of other students behind the staff, as well as to Brent's left. At the sound of a trumpet blast, the two 17-year-olds began the process of removing Brent's briefs. First, they ran their fingers under the waistband, making a complete circle. They stood on either side of him and grasped the band, pulling both sides down until the waistband curved, the sides lower than the center, leaving Brent's pubic hair exposed. The pair of 17-year- old's then knelt, each grasping a leg of the swimwear. As a spotlight shone brightly on Brent, the boys gradually pulled the garment off. First one leg was pulled a few inches, then the other, until the center of the waistband slid down, revealing the genitals. Brent's member, though relatively soft, had a commanding length and thickness. The overall look of the naked 17-year-old drew more admiring responses. Brent's penis began to thicken and rise somewhat. The applause was thunderous. At that moment, I wondered if my star boy would ever agree to being fucked, and if a similar ceremony would be held when a boy gave up his anal virginity. The rings began to move, rotating Brent 90 degrees, so he faced the semi-circle of 17 year old boys. This left me and the other staff with a good side view of Brent, with the mysterious thin rope hanging down. Brent appeared to be grasping the cord with his buttocks. Alan Richards, the 25-year-old assistant to Mr. Miles, stood and made his way to Brent. Miles stood to announce. "We now celebrate, and remind our subject of the three most treasured traits a boy can have." "One, OBEDIENCE." What happened next startled me. Alan grasped the hanging cord, and gently pulled. An ball popped out of Brent, about an inch in diameter. "Uh," he moaned softly, to a round of applause, his cock definitely on the rise, now. "Geez!" I whispered to Mark, "They've got anal balls in him!" "I think he likes that," Mark said. "Two, STRENGTH." Another one-inch ball was pulled from Brent. This time he grimaced, but was silent. More applause. "Three, HUMILITY!" This time, Alan pulled visibly harder, and a ball of one and a half inches popped into view. "Argh!" Brent moaned loudly, his face askew from the pain--and with applause from the watching students, some of whom who were actively masturbating, being pumped by a friend's hand, or getting their cocks sucked by a kneeling fellow student. "And," Miles continued, "of course, there will be PLEASURE." At this, Alan yanked the cord quickly, and eight, very small balls, tightly spaced, came them out of Brent in rapid succession. "Ahhhhh," the star boy moaned in pleasure, a slight smile on his face. A giant round of applause shook the room. "Holy shit!" I said. "It's not really unusual," Mark whispered, "since he's already had the dildo in him from the cock-tease rig." "But still, man! Fuck, what a stud." At this point, Brent strained to hang on to the rings, his face betraying the effort. He'd been holding himself that way a long time. Finally, Brent was lowered and to his feet, and he let go of the rings. His penis had softened considerably. The crowed cheered. "The subject will declare his readiness to be welcomed by raising his arms." Quite showman-like, Brent smiled radiantly and raised his arms upwards--fully, and with great energy, despite the recent strain of hanging from the rings. His well developed biceps and triceps gleamed with sweat, and made a beautiful athletic display. A handsome pair of boys from the semi-circle came forward and held Brent's arms--supporting them in a 'V' shape, under the rings. In the process, Brent's body swayed somewhat, causing his flaccid cock to swing gracefully. "The egg of life, symbol of potency," Miles said. Alan Richards retrieved a very large egg from a tall pedestal, and held it up for the audience to see. A 17-year-old from the semi-circle knelt and began to suck Brent's balls--a connection, I supposed, to the egg that Alan was replacing on the pedestal. Later, the boy's tongue made wide swaths along the head of Brent's penis. "It's a special ceremonial egg," Mark said. "They won't insert it--it's just for effect." The audience applauded as the kneeling boy's oral attentions had their effect, and Brent became erect. The second and best-built of the reserve 17-year-olds came forward holding an awesome-looking flogger of a strange design, consisting of 12 thin, one-inch wide leather straps--most of them 30 inches long, but several were longer--about 40 inches. The light, flat-strap design allowed for long flogging sessions without severe damage to the skin, but in the proper hands, could be made to deliver a deep, ferocious sting. The longer straps were a mystery to me. Curiously, the boy who had teased Brent's cock, was still kneeling in front of him. The pair of 17-year-olds were like bookends on either side of Brent. At that point, they lowered his arms. A master supervisor, highly skilled in flogging, entered, and took the instrument from the well-built boy, who then stepped aside. "The ceremony of love," Mr. Miles said. "The subject will now be suspended." The pair of boys attached the wrist cuffs to Brent. There must have been a control booth somewhere, because as soon as the cuffs were properly adjusted, the chains tightened, and Brent was raised, his feet about 4 inches off the floor. His bulging muscles were a beautiful and arousing sight. He was again turned, giving us a side view. The master with the flogger had incredible aim. But more than aim was required. To vary the severity of the strokes, the whipman needed to have the ends of the straps strike the subject at a high velocity, causing a great deal of pain as they struck the flesh. For milder strokes, it was necessary to manipulate the flogger differently--to have the strap-ends attain a much lower velocity, so they kissed rather than bit the skin. "For the love of boys and men--ONE!" Miles announced. WHHAAAPPPPPPPP! The blow struck near the right shoulder. The moment the flogger struck, the kneeling boy slid his lips sensuously over Brent's quivering erection. Brent clenched his teeth but made no sound. "Why's that boy sucking Brent during this?" "To keep Brent's pleasure senses active, and help form a link between pain and pleasure. He sucks the penis just as the flogger strikes. In your training you'll learn more about this." "For the respect of your own body and the bodies of others--TWO!" The master swung, placing the stroke at the left side of the back, but the longer straps whipped around, striking ribs and nipple. Amazingly, Brent simply let out a gasp of breath, grimacing and gritting his teeth. "For the maintenance of a healthy mind and body, with special care of the sex organs--THREE!" The flogger struck the right ribs in the same manner as before. Brent, still silent, writhed in pain at the stroke, possibly because this blow may have struck a nipple. At each stroke of the flogger, the kneeling boy slid his lips over Brent's cock in a delicious-looking manner, gradually swallowing the suffering lad's exquisite member. "For the seeking of others to pleasure and be pleasured by, FOUR!" The stroke was to the upper-legs. My star boy let out another gasp of breath, but did not shout or moan. The site and force of the blow was too painful for Brent to contain himself, and he gasped again, wriggling in pain. "Five, for the equality of anal pleasure and oral." This was a brutal double stroke--one to each buttock, the strap tips biting in ferociously, causing excruciating pain. Brent writhed and squirmed violently, his vigorously twisting body throwing sweat in all directions. The poor boy's face contorted in agony, his eyes shut tightly, his hands knotted into desperate fists. "Six," Miles said, "for kindness to others, and the advancement of sensual technique." The well-built boy who had handed the flogger to the master knelt behind Brent, surprising him with a sudden rimming, the boy turning his head from side to side, to give all a good view of his tongue as it slithered provocatively over Brent's virgin opening, and far above and below, for added sensual effect. The tonguing lad eventually poked his tongue at Brent's hole, causing Brent to squeal with pleasure, his body convulsing enticingly. Alan Richards made a gesture toward Brent, and the entire room filled with cheers and applause for Brent, who had taken all of the painful proceedings in silence--an amazing accomplishment. I swelled with admiration for my boy's incredible strength and ability to endure. "And now, for loyalty to Miles Academy, and all it stands for." Then I saw a metal-studded, two-tongued tawse handed to the master doing the flogging. This was a dreaded instrument. CCCCCRRRAAAAAAACKKKK! This was done once on each buttock, to Brent's thunderous, heart- rending cries. The two red welts from the metal studs stood out plainly on each cheek. Everyone seemed to know these were the last strokes, and the crowd again applauded Brent wildly. The kneeling boy kept Brent's erection fully in his mouth, and Brent began to thrust his hips in and out, causing some laughter in the audience. The stud was not about to stopped by a little pain, apparently. "And now," Miles announced, "the sharing of pain as pleasure." At this point, Brent was lowered and the pair of attending boys wiped him down with a towel. From what I could tell, the boys instructed him to hold on to the rings, even though his feet were flat on the floor. The kneeling boy who had sucked Brent now stood, and was handed a solid maple paddle. The boy swung the paddle into Brent's backside with a strong, but not overpowering swing. "SSMMAAAACCCCKKKK!" Brent's body moved forward a small distance, and he was stunned a bit, but did not make a sound. Brent was prompted to let go of the rings, and stood proudly with his arms at his sides. To my surprise, the boy handed the paddle to Brent, then bent over. Brent delivered what he thought was a similar blow to the lad who had sucked him. But Brent did not know his own strength, and the stroke of the paddle was fierce, nearly knocking the boy over. "Ahhhhhhh! OWWWW!" the poor lad screamed. "That wasn't supposed to happen," Mark said. The audience laughed appreciably. Although I saw the humor in it--that Brent was not expected to swing the paddle quite so vehemently--I felt for the boy. More laughter and a few moans of approval came from the audience as Brent, quite showman-like, smiled and rubbed the boy's sore buttocks for comfort, as if apologizing for his mistake. "The minute of control," Miles said, starting a timer. "The subject will not come." The boy knelt once again, and began to suck Brent in earnest. Another of the 17-year-olds came behind, and rimmed Brent. A third, from below, tenderly sucked Brent's swollen balls, the sac enlarged from the potent, unsatisfied sexual desires that raced through Brent's body. "Oh! AH! Oh, fuck!" Brent shouted, doing his best to resist the arousing combination of erotic sensations that became almost unbearable, in light of the requirement that Brent hold his cum. "Arrghhhphhh!" "The subject has succeeded in demonstrating his control over the senses," Miles announced, followed by a deafening round of applause. "The subject will now choose the boys from the alternate pool, to whom he would be willing to have the privilege of providing sexual pleasure." Mark explained, "That's Miles way of saying Brent will eliminate some of the back-up boys, by choosing those he finds appealing." As Mark explained, Brent was to select from the semi-circle of boys by dipping his finger into a ceremonial jar of edible red paint. He would present his painted finger to each boy he chose. Then Brent was to wait for the boy's response, if any, then rub the paint in a circle on the boy's chest. But if the chosen boy found Brent sexually desirable, the boy sucked the stuff off Brent's fingers, then Brent marked the boy by coating his lips with the paint, and kissing the lad on his forehead. The first boy's mouth went right for Brent's finger. The second boy opened his mouth but stopped short of licking it, surprising Brent. This boy, as if unsure of Brent's sexual appeal, looked up at Brent, smiling. The crowd roared at this little ruse, as the boy devoured Brent's finger. There was an extra-loud round of applause. Eventually, seven of the ten 17-year-olds licked the paint from Brent's finger, and stood with lip marks on their foreheads. Brent seemed to be done selecting. Miles' assistant gracefully approached Brent. Brent whispered immediately to the man, who nodded very affirmatively. I noticed that Brent had not chosen the smallest cocks, but a variety of sizes including one eight-incher. Smiling energetically, Brent approached the three other 17-year- olds, and painted circles on their chests. By doing this, Brent was expressing his willingness to suck off even members of the reserve group that Brent didn't find appealing. The crowd went wild. "Now, we will meet four of the five boys specially selected for Brent." As Mr. Miles spoke, Phillip and Michael were escorted into the room--by four striking 17-year-olds, two at either side of each boy. Their white robes hid their erections well. My helper boys looked frightened. The audience applauded politely, and when that died down, Simon Kelms was escorted in, to louder applause. His erection bulged his blue robe nicely. I watched Brent for a reaction. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of Simon. Dennis Rex received the most enthusiastic reception from the audience--the bulge of his strikingly bigger penis in the blue robe attracting a great deal of admiration. The guards put our four boys in their assigned spots, between Brent and the pool of ten back-up boys. Brent was nervous now. The pressure was on him to make his final choices. The lad's face showed the strain of his predicament. I wished I could speak to Phillip and Michael, to assure them that if Brent did not choose them, it was not a reflection on either of them personally. I think Phillip and Michael were more nervous than Brent. The orchestra played a momentous-sounding chord. "Now for the awaited festivities. The moment has come for the subject to prove his attraction to his fellow males, and ability to enjoy sexual contact with them. "Is the subject ready to proceed?" "Yes," Brent said, bowing to the staff. "Mark look--he's soft," I said, fearful for Brent. "I know. Where do you think I've been looking?" "Make your first choice, then," Miles said with a smile. This was the first time Miles had spoken directly to Brent. "You will select the boy by gently grasping his erection. You will then perform at least one affectionate gesture of your own choosing." Brent faced the lineup of four boys. He paused, looking them over for quite some time. "The suspense is killing me," I said to Mark. Brent walked slowly to the group, and stood before Simon Kelms. "I knew it." "I'm glad he picked Simon first." The two boys grinned very amicably at each other, Brent grasping Simon's penis, then walking around his body, obviously making a comparison to his own. Various admiring sounds from the audience indicated they saw the resemblance between the two 17-year-olds. The other three selected boys in line watched intently as Brent leaned down and kissed Simon's nipples. The audience applauded the gesture, but Brent was not through. He embraced Simon, and kissed him full on the lips, to cheers from the crowd. But when the kiss lasted a good while, and the two squirmed their bodies together, the onlookers burst into thunderous applause, which became wild when they saw Brent's sumptuous, fast-forming erection. "That's fantastic," Mark said. Miles was grinning enthusiastically. The three other selected boys, Phillip, Michael, and Dennis, formed a semi-circle around Brent and Simon, giving themselves and others a better view. "Mister Kelms, do you value the pleasure the subject is about to bestow on you enough to make a payment in pain for it?" "Yes, sir!" "The payment will be a maximum-strength blow to the buttocks of the borstal cane. It will be delivered by the most powerful boy in the seventeen-year-old semi-circle of the subject's peers, as a symbol of intramural discipline." The borstal was the most wicked of all canes, but a maximum strength stroke of it in a student setting is unheard of in all but the least desirable, cruelest schools. "Ouch," I muttered, "that's a wicked payment!" "To say the least." "Mr. Kelms, do you wish the subject to make the payment for you?" "No, sir," Simon said, bending appropriately. Brent held Simon's shoulders for support. This was needed because of the force of the upcoming blow, as well as the pain. The well-built boy came forward. As the cane was handed to the him, I noticed the fine, gold decorated handle, as well as water dripping from the thing--the wetness would amplify the pain. The master stood by the well-built lad, ready to give the signal. "ONE!" he said, in a stern military voice. WWHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAACCCCCKKKKKKK!! "YEWWAAAAARRRRRGGHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Simon screamed seconds after his body flew upright. He shook from the ghastly effect of the vicious blow. Brent did his best to steady the boy, whose buttocks displayed deep, unsightly welts. "That thing is brutal. The pain must have been excruciating." "It was," Mark replied. "It's a good thing the boys all have Endorlone working for them." Simon's erection was undiminished because of the chemical. After some enchanting and comical rubbing of Simon's butt-- performed by both Brent and Simon, Brent knelt and kissed the dark red wounds, to everyone's delight. There was some discussion between the two, resulting in Brent raising his arm--a call for Alan Richards to assist. Alan and Brent conversed in a whisper. All seemed to be satisfactory, and Alan retreated. In a few seconds, the rings lowered--apparently this was Simon's request for positioning, because the boy then signaled the operator to stop the rings. Simon then turned his back to the rings, and placed his hands in them, leaning in a slight backbend. The pose resulted in Simon's penis jutting out erotically toward Brent. This was the real moment of truth--Brent's first attempt at giving a blow job. He knelt slowly, his hands on Simon's hips, sliding down to his thighs, and up again. When Brent kissed the tip of the boy's organ, appreciative gasps could be heard from the hushed audience. Without hesitating further, Brent opened his mouth, and slid his lips slowly over the bobbing tip of Simon's penis. "Ahhh, yeah!" the grateful recipient said, as Brent brought his lips up and down the rigid shaft, gradually taking more of Simon's cock as the sensuous pumping continued. Simon did his best to suppress his moans, but the evidence of the erotic sensations were quite audible. Brent stopped sucking the lad, only to shift his attention to the boy's scrotum, which he licked and sucked captivatingly. This elicited more quiet gasps of approval from the student audience. Simon enjoyed the delicious attention on his balls, and was ready for more activity on his cock, if his bouncing erection was any criterion. Brent slipped the hard pole into his mouth once again, and this time vigorously sucked down the entire 7-inch organ, increasing his pace on the thing. But Brent surprised everyone by stopping, at what seemed to be the crucial moment for Simon. Brent made a gesture toward Alan. "He's calling for a ceremonial shower," Mark explained. Several of the uniformed guards entered the central area, and removed a large circle of carpet. A hydraulic mechanism brought the shower apparatus up into view. "The ritual of cleansing," Miles announced. "The subject will proceed at will." 'Ahhs' from the crowd indicated they knew what was happening as Brent's washing activity quickly centered themselves deep into Simon's crevice. Four other guards, dressed only in swimwear, rinsed the lad, and dried him with a flourish, using beautifully decorated towels. As the shower mechanism retreated into the floor and the carpet was replaced, Brent embraced Simon, who bent over to receive Brent's tongue, which thoroughly examined and poked the valley between Simon's well-muscled buttocks. Roars from the audience all but drowned out their applause. Simon shivered with the pleasure. Brent affectionately brought him to an upright position, and resumed sucking the good-looking boy. "OH! Fuck, YEAH!" Simon shouted, as his orgasm came upon him suddenly. It was obvious Brent had swallowed a good portion of the boy's load before slipping his lips off the ejaculating penis, to take several potent streams of Simon's cum on his face and neck. This was an unexpectedly beautiful erotic display. The audience's response was deafening, and the roars accelerated as the two boys stood to admire their similar bodies, and then kissed passionately. Two guards gently wiped the semen off Brent using black towels which showed the boy's seed quite well. These were hung on a line just beyond the central area as visible symbols of the event. Brent and Simon bowed, and the lad raised one of Brent's arms in a symbol of victory. Eventually the tumult died down. ________ More? Please write to me. stevestoryman@yahoo.com (text only) Your comments are welcome. I'll reply to all substantial. (Scroll down for updated list of my stories) YOUR PRIVACY IS ASSURED ----------------------- I respect and protect your privacy like I protect mine, so if you've hesitated to write, fearing some spam or something unwanted will result, please be at peace about that. It's been my pleasure to get the emails I've received so far. Thank you. I try to be organized, but I may have missed replying to you, so if you didn't get an answer and would like to hear back from me, just let me know. If possible, please also paste in a copy of the unanswered message. Your email is THE ONLY feedback, input, incentive, or reward available to keep up my enthusiasm for writing the stories. Thank you, Steve ___________________________________________ STEVE STORYMAN'S STORIES AT: www.nifty.org (Approximate Age Ranges represent current and future characters) Dates given are for the most recent chapter posted. (MM/DD) Dates are plus or minus a day or so, depending on your server. ALL dates are in 2005 1. hot-little-brother-series 11 CHAPTERS SO FAR 2/21 Nifty Incest/Athletics A slim 18 y/o athlete wants his 16 y/o brother; caring; some football & locker room fun; no long game-scenes. Kevin & Josh. (Ages 15-22) 2. i-wanted-my-big-brother 6 CHAPTERS SO FAR 2/25 Nifty Incest A hot 15 y/o admires and pursues his brother--a sexy, 17 y/o high-school quarterback; caring; no sports scenes. Chad and Adam. (Ages 15-19) 3. hot-teen-brian 4 CHAPTERS SO FAR 1/12 Nifty Adult-Youth A cute, smooth 17 y/o and some of his older friends discover a liking for younger guys; hot fun; all consensual; Goes deep into Brian's thoughts. Brian, Peter, Matt & friends. (Ages 10-32; Most action: 13 to 19) 4. boys-joys-and-sorrows-at-sex-ed-school 8 CHAPTERS SO FAR Nifty Adult-Youth 3/19 Teens trained for mutual sex; some spank, paddling, etc; no cruelty; some orgasm-delay teasing; flogging; individual and classroom/group punishment scenes; all consensual; group and couple's sexual scenes. (Ages 13-35; Most action: ages 13-20) 5. hot-freshman-kid 5 CHAPTERS SO FAR 3/4 Nifty High-School A good-looking high school senior, 17, becomes fascinated with a cute freshman, 14; story of discovery; tender; caring; depicts several aspects of high-school life as it relates to their friendship. Mark and Kyle. --> (Despite the teasing and denial in chapter 4, this <-- story will not include s&m, domination, or cruelty.) 6. hot-night-with-a-nice-kid 1 CHAPTER (More to come?) 2/26 Nifty/College A good-looking 24-year-old college student finds a hot guy at a local area college hangout-- a teen club for 18 and 19 year-olds. Alan and Peter. stevestoryman@yahoo.com (text only)