Date: Wed, 31 Aug 2005 09:30:05 -0700
From: auto465020@hushmail.com
Subject: Scout Camp Justice

`Guilty or not guilty?'

I'm just 13 years old and I'm standing in the scout camp's out-of-
the-way hut where tents are stored in the winter. Before me, seated
facing me are the eight other boys of my Patrol. I'm waiting for
their verdict.

That morning, just before tent inspection I had concealed some
litter in the hedge. It had been discovered. My patrol had lost
marks in the highly contested competition.

A secret trial had been ordered by my Patrol Leader. Twenty minutes
ago I had been arrested, brought to this place beyond adult eyes
and ears and accused.

The witness to my crime has given his evidence. The incriminating
litter is on the table before me. I have pleaded mitigating
circumstances. The trial has ended. My patrol leader asks his
fateful question.

`Guilty or not guilty'

A unanimous verdict - guilty! I am ordered to leave the hut whilst
my punishment is discussed and agreed upon.

Five minutes later I am called back. The court announces its
sentence; my bottom is to be disciplined. I am dismayed. Tradition
dictates I must accept. Sentence to be carried out immediately.

They are to draw lots for the role of executioner. The winner is to
decide the method by which the discipline will be inflicted and
administer it. With a shudder I recall the school changing-room and
a nightmare glimpse of a pale, naked bottom striped with angry,
scarlet weals. Please God, not the cane.

A scrap of paper is torn into eight pieces, one marked with a
cross, and tipped into a can. Hands scrabble eagerly for the lots.
The two oldest boys draw blanks. Relief.

A whoop of triumph from an eleven-year old with geeky wire-framed
glasses. A new boy who on the first night wet his bed.  I'm going
to be punished by a four-eyed little creep two years younger than
me!

I know he will show me no mercy. Two nights ago I was the
ringleader when we pulled him out of his sleeping bag and my
accomplices held him down while I stripped off his pyjamas and
tickled his little penis to an erection. Then I decorated it with a
felt tip pen. I humiliated him - now it's his turn.

The court warns me - I am to do exactly as Four-Eyes tells me or
the punishment is doubled.

`Give me your belt' - not the cane then, thank God, not the cane. I
pull off my belt and hand it to him. He folds it in half and lays
it down. He kneels in front of me and begins to unbutton my scout
shorts. As he  pulls them down my instinct is to resist but
remembering the warning I stand there still and submissive.

It's a warm day, I had been shirtless when arrested. Sniggers from
the others as I stand there in just my briefs then a chant is taken
up -`on the bare, on the bare,on the bare'.

His silly face grins at me and he hooks his thumbs into my briefs
and slowl, inch by inch, begins to pull them down. As my penis is
revealead I see eight pairs of interested eyes drop to investigate
my circumcision.

`Turn round and bend over'. I present the target of my imminent
chastisement to the court, my fingertips on my knees.

`Further'

I touch my toes. Bottom taut, orifice immodestly exposed.

Four Eyes picks up my scout belt and folds it in half. I am to have
nine - one for each member of my Patrol and one for myself. Thank
you God, not the cane.

The stinging begins - Four-Eyes is bringing the belt down hard
across my stretched bottom. An eternity between each swat. The rest
are cheering and chanting the count. I am determined not to cry
out. It hurts, God it hurts.

At last it stops.

`Stand up, turn round'.

I again face my judges. My face is scarlet, my bottom is scarlet
and my boyhood is distended and uncomfortable.

They are all laughing, joking, pointing at my arousal.

My eyes are wet with tears, I am subdued, chastened.

My humiliation is complete.

Tonight I will masturbate.

jw
Comments/questions welcome:
auto465020@hushmail.com