Date: Sat, 2 Aug 2008 08:36:44 EDT
From: GJD18BR@aol.com
Subject: Camp Conversion Chapter 5

CAMP CONVERSION
Part 5
Written by Stripscott based on a true account by Nivram


	The next ten minutes were something I had never expected to endure;
never even anticipated happening in the short span of my young life. Not
even the remotest pornographic fantasy of mine had ever included having my
genitals groped, pulled, prodded, rubbed, squeezed and tugged by four
aggressive males who were intent upon making my cock perform one of its
primary duties: that of delivering spunk through the hole in the tip.

	Being treated in such a way was bad enough, never having had
anyone's hands other than a doctor's touch such a private area since the
days when I had learnt bathroom skills and had been allowed to perform
unaccompanied, but perhaps it was made even worse by my being helpless to
prevent it and the fact that I was unable to see what was happening. Hands
interfered with my cock and balls unseen on the other side of the upturned
boat and no amount of begging and pleading on my part registered for any
mercy or sympathy.

	Maybe the pleading was ambivalent, because I was torn between two
major desires. I desperately did not want to be made to shoot spunk whilst
these four manipulated me and watched my cock jerk and spasm. Equally, I
did not wish to endure the threatened fifteen minute spanking which would
be the result of my dick failing to perform in the required manner. Did I
pray to retain some vestige of privacy or did I think of something which
would guarantee a show for the boys and protection for my dangerously
exposed and upturned bum.

Of course I knew how to get myself off alone; I had been doing it for
years. And I also knew that the attempts my three molesters were making
were as unlikely to make me demonstrate the quantity of cum-production my
balls could achieve as they were likely to produce a bluebird from my
ass. After five minutes of anguish and mental torture, I realised that the
decision had already been made for me.

None of the four wanted me to cum yet, as they desired the excuse (as if
they needed it!) to spank my vulnerable bottom. The expression of the
intent to make me cum for their viewing pleasure was no more than an
opportunity to inflict humiliation and pain to recently cock and the balls
which accompanied it. They were certainly adept at inflicting pain.

"Oh shit! No! Please... please don't... it hurts... oh, my balls... I
can't... oh hell, guys, please stop. No more, I beg you, no more..."

But such pleas were totally disregarded. My stiff dick was pulled away from
the boat where it rested once engorged. Releasing it meant it slapped
painfully back against the wooden hull. My balls were twisted and squeezed
repeatedly whilst my ball-sack itself was pinched and scratched. There was
no foreskin to deny them easy access to my cock-head which I felt being
fingered, nipped and rubbed harshly. My piss-slit was squeezed open and in
petrified horror I felt something probe at the entrance, but, to my relief,
nothing really entered.

My shaft, such as it was, was rubbed almost continually, with special
attention being paid to the usually sensitive spot just below the head
which, in my position was so readily available. This might have been enough
to prompt the production of semen and the convulsion of my dick to shoot
spunk for them, but the bursts of pain from all the other attention ensured
that the height of ecstasy was never reached. Indeed, quite the contrary. I
was never in danger of demonstrating my manly abilities.

I know that I must have leaked some pre-cum because I could occasionally
feel it being smoothed over my dick-head and even along my shaft, but this
overture wasn't going to be enough to save me from the further pain to come
to be inflicted on another area of my firmly trussed-up body.

I don't know who was keeping a check on the time, if anybody, but it seemed
like for ever had had to pass before Dan said, "Time's up. He's hasn't
succeeded in delivering anything for us so now he'll get the punishment
which is the price of failure."

"No! Please don't! I can produce... you know... but I need time. Oh god,
don't spank me. I haven't had a spanking for years. I'm too old... Come on,
guys. It's a joke, right? Let me go now. I promise... I promise I won't
tell anybody... not a single soul. Untie me now, please. No
more... please... please?"

"Who's going to carry out the punishment?" That was John's voice.

"Let's all do it," suggested Mike. "My palm's just itching to whack that
lily-white butt and turn it red."

"Hand warm-ups first," said Dan, "but then there's something else."

I heard him step away from the group behind me and then he moved into my
peripheral vision going to the side of the boathouse. He reached for
something and turned around with it in his hands. It was a short paddle for
one of the canoes and he hefted it up before swinging it down in a wide
curve. My fear grew as I realised that my bare butt was intended to be at
the end of such another swing.

"No Dan! Oh no! Oh please... stop this. You can't... you can't... oh god
HEELP. Please somebody... anybody... save me. No! I don't want to be
beaten. What have I done to deserve this? Please let me go... no one... I
won't tell anyone..."

"Oh, shut him up somebody," Dan exclaimed and, within seconds, something, I
think it was my own underpants, was shoved deep into my mouth. I continued
to moan and mumble for a while until the first blow landed. Then I tried to
yell.

They didn't start off lightly. They were going for it right from the off. A
meaty jock hand swung violently against my unprotected bum. I heard the
sound off the flesh-on-flesh sound moments before I felt the pain erupt
from the contact point. I think I felt every minute detail of that hand and
every point of it sent messages of pain along my nerve receptors to my
brain. My butt seemed to explode in pure fiery agony and I strained against
my bonds as never so far. That first blow was out of someone else's worst
nightmare, but it was happening to me. I couldn't stand it, but I'd been
promised at least fifteen minutes of such unbelievable treatment.

Another, similar blow landed; a different direction, a different hand, but
with the same agonising result. I squealed uselessly into my gag before the
third hand whacked down upon my unresisting, but so responsive flesh. I
jerked again and tried in vain to summon help, protection mercy, but all I
heard in reply was the laughter from four young camp counsellors who were
enjoying some unexpected late-night fun with a toy who had presented
himself to them on a plate.

As the blows continued to rain down, never diminishing in strength or
ferocity, a part of my mind which wasn't fully taken up with registering
the insufferable abuse which my defenceless butt was receiving, heard the
thrill in the voices of those assaulting me. They were discovering the
sexual excitement of inflicting exceptional pain on the body of other
person who is unable to resist. Each blow, and the consequent reddening of
my upturned ass, was a stimulus aiding the engorgement of their symbols of
masculinity. In short, they were getting off on what they were doing to me.

To say I cried would be an understatement. I helplessly wept as if each
smack forced more tears to jerk from my eyes. My cheeks ran with salty
fluids which soaked into my gag and dripped to the boathouse floor. My
throat tried to scream and sob at the same time causing me to choke, but
even this did not deter my assailants.

I know the paddle came into use eventually, but my bum was a place of such
intense agony that the change barely registered. It defined itself as a
blow to both cheeks at once and spread over a wider area. It was, indeed,
more painful, but, by that time, pain had become relative.

I'll never know whether they stuck to the expressed fifteen minutes, but
the abuse seemed to go on for a lot longer. I do know that, long before
they stopped, I was physically exhausted from the jerking, the crying and
the restrained screaming. If they had untied me the moment they stopped
beating me, I could not have moved, let alone run away. The ropes had
chaffed at my wrists and ankles and everything in the world seemed to be
just one big blur of pain.

	However, stop they did, eventually. Again, I'm not sure that I was
aware of when the final blow fell because pain was rampant and all ran
together to one large mass of throbbing, aching agony. I just slowly became
aware that it had ceased to get worse; at the same time I also became aware
of the very heavy breathing behind me. Clearly I wasn't the only one to
have been exhausted by the recent strenuous activity. My four young
torturers must have actually built up a sweat.

I did hear the wooden paddle clatter to the floor as Dan dropped it and
managed to hope amid the pain that it would now stay where it was.

"Look at that. I think we've made it glow." Mike's voice.

"Now that's scarlet," added Al. "You could definitely use that on a colour
chart for scarlet."

"You know what?" John said thoughtfully. "I think red must turn me on. I'm
feeling so horny. Looks like your three dicks are hard from the same
thing."

"Yeah," agreed Mike. "And I think I need to do something about it."

There was movement and suddenly the three of them appeared in front of
me. Indeed, they were each sporting an extremely impressive hard-on,
pointing accusing at me as if I were to blame for their state of extreme
erection.

Dan reached forward and ran his fingers down my cheeks through the tracks
left by my tears.

"A treat for the cry-baby," he said. "Is your bum really on fire now?"

After a pause, I nodded my head miserably. I'd thought of not responding,
but decided if I didn't antagonise them, they might just let me go.

"Oh dear." Mock sympathy. "Well, perhaps Mike and Al can help cool those
poor red cheeks down. They need somewhere to deposit that spunk that's been
built up in their balls through spanking a naughty boy. Why don't we get
them to squirt it over your so very rosy cheeks?"

"Good idea," Al responded enthusiastically. "And where are you going to
blow your load?"

"Oh, I think John and I'll aim for this pair of salty cheeks right here,"
Dan replied airily. "Might improve his complexion."

I wanted to protest. I know I should have protested, or tried to protest
even though my mouth was still filled with gag, but I just didn't have the
energy right then. I knew I couldn't stop them and I wanted to beg them to
leave me alone. I wanted to tell them they'd done enough; that I'd had
enough. But there was no voice. And very little will-power. I'd got their
spunk in my body; now I'd be bathed in it.

Dan had already started stroking his full eight inches of man meat with its
tip inches from my nose. John imitated him with his slightly less
impressive, but nonetheless rampant, dick whilst Al and Mike disappeared
from view, only for me to feel them slapping their rigid hardnesses against
my sore ass, reawakening the flashes of pain.

They continued to rub the heads of their eager young dicks over the ravages
of my ass whilst they worked themselves up to ejaculation. Dan, his slit
oozing pre-cum, wiped the tip all over my face: my forehead, eyes, nose
cheeks, lips, chin and even my ears.

At first his stroking was regular and even, almost deliberate, but, as he
became more aroused and worked himself closer to his moment of extreme
pleasure, his fist became faster and more erratic. His breathing grew
heavier and laboured and his chest heaved with effort. John's pace matched
Dan's almost stroke for stroke.

From the sounds behind me and the energetic rubbing of cocks on ass, I knew
that all four were keeping pace with each other and were likely to deliver
their offerings simultaneously.

I believe they did. A quartet of gasping frenetic youths virtually
announced the onset of orgasm and I felt warm splashes on my sore butt at
almost the same moment as I watched Dan's slit open up, as if in slow
motion, and deliver the first rope of thick, white cum which landed first
on one cheek and then crossed my nose to the other. A spurt from John, no
less intense, hit just above my eyes and dribbled down. I saw a second load
shoot out from Dan's thrusting member and felt it land partly on my lips
and partly on my chin before my eyes closed to protect them from the goo
running down my face. I only felt the rest of the splashes land on various
parts of my face.

Then hands were smearing sticky spunk over my ravaged ass-cheeks and
fingers rubbed a similar substance all over my unresisting face. Now, I
felt marked. Now I was their territory. By this very act they had declared
that I belonged to them. And I hadn't been able to raise a finger to
prevent it.

There was a long pause as breathing returned to normal. I dared to hope
that it was all over, that I'd soon feel the ropes slackening, be able to
ease off the canoe's hull, gather my scattered clothes and slink back to
camp. I mentally used the word slink because I already knew I couldn't tell
anyone what had happened. Despite my wanting the four of them to pay the
penalty for their actions, I could never endure the humiliation of
revealing to anyone what had happened to me that night. To have others
looking at me and knowing what I'd had to endure was totally beyond
consideration.

Then I felt a hand on my dick and I knew it wasn't over.

"He hasn't cum yet," murmured Al. "We've got to make him cum too, haven't
we? Only fair."

"And then," added that insatiably randy sod Mike, "Dan said we get to fuck
him all over again. I think it's my turn to go first."


To be continued...
Author: Stripscott
Email: gjd18br@aol.com