Date: Mon, 02 Oct 2006 00:43:19 -0400 From: Chris Johns Subject: Treville Pt 2 This series of stories is copyright to the author. You are welcome to download for personal use but not for sale or profit. The series is very homoerotic with detailed descriptions of sex between consenting males age fifteen and above and lots of cp. If this is not your scene please leave this site NOW. Also if you are underage to read this type of material or it is illegal in your country please leave. A Fictional Establishment Treville Youth Correctional Training Camp, Tennessee PART TWO I was woken by the bleep of my watch. As I lay in bed I wondered if it had all been a dream. Had the events of the day before really happened or was it some kind of hallucination, caused by jet lag and an over active imagination? I opened my eyes. Sure enough the room was as I had remembered it and there on the wall was the paddle I had used to spank the teenage boy butts the day before; and there on the desk was the Camp's Student Conduct Book. Though I had wanked-off before going to sleep, I had a raging hard-on when I woke, and as the memories of the night before flooded back, my already hard cock demanded urgent attention. I looked at my watch, 6.30am. Normally that would have been well before the time I got up, but now I was an instructor in this American camp for wayward youths; a strange place run by some Southern Christian fundamentalists along quasi military school lines. A place where they took the biblical prohibition against masturbation with the utmost seriousness as did they the dictum not to spare the rod, except so far it had been the paddle. Within hours of arriving I had been coached in how to apply the paddle to the cadets backsides by Kurt, the senior instructor, and I had already spanked seven of the cadets in my bunkhouse. Kurt and I had also caught several cadets jacking-off in their bunks after lights-out, and faced with the prospect of being sent to see the Rev Jackson, the Principal of the establishment, had been more than willing to be punished by me. But, that was going to be later this afternoon, in the gym, after their sports period; right now I had to get a move on. Kurt had told me how important it was to be up first to supervise the cadets, and if I wanted a morning wank I had to be quick. The irony didn't escape me. Here was I jacking-off at the thought of punishing their arses for the very thing I was doing - but at least I had given them the opportunity to release their pent-up frustration. I had summoned them to my room and given them three minutes to wank-off. All but Williams had come within the time. The memory of seeing those boys beating their meat so furiously made me want to come, and as I reached down and held my balls tight, like I had Williams, as punishment for not coming in time, I shot my load. It was 6.40. I would have to shower later; I needed to be dressed when I went into their dormitory, so I quickly pulled on tracksuit pants and a T shirt. A few minutes later the silence was shattered by the sound of the electric bell wakening the Cadets and I flung open my door and stepped into the bunkhouse. "All right Cadets, out of bed and hit the showers," I shouted. The cadets had fifteen minutes to shower, shave, shit and get dressed before roll-call and breakfast in the mess-hall from 7.00 to 7.30am, after which they had half an hour cleaning duties before parade. Small wonder they were always running about at the double. I managed to get my shower in after breakfast while the cadets were cleaning the bunkhouse. It was my responsibility to assign the tasks, but for the present there was a rota pinned on the wall and they appeared to be working diligently. The thought struck me that I should get one of the cadets to clean my room and act as my servant, like a batman, or a fag at my public school. I pulled the curtain aside from the one-way mirror and glanced into the dormitory. The cadets were folding the blankets at the foot of their beds maybe Williams would make a good fag, it had been fun making him jack-off as I squeezed his balls last night and, by his rock hard young cock and the way he had come. Still, I had yet to punish all those lads too, I hadn't forgotten the cane in the gym storeroom, I was looking forward to giving them a taste of the traditional English implement of corporal punishment. We paraded in front of the main school building for inspection by the Rev Jackson. The cadets from each bunkhouse lined up in double rows. The Rev Jackson walked down each line, making the occasional comment. When it came to my troop I experienced a slight nervousness, what if he found fault with some of my cadets. He did; he told one boy his hair was too long and to get it cut, then as he passed Williams, he asked him if he had shaved that day. Williams look flustered. Kurt who was accompanying the Rev Jackson shouted at him, repeating the question. "No Sir" Williams shouted back. Kurt wrote his name down in his little book, then turning to me said "see to it Mr Marsden." "Yes Sir," I shouted back. After inspection we all had to join in prayers and to the accompaniment of church music from the PA system there followed some fundamentalist hymn to which we all had to sing along. Parade finished, the cadets had ten minutes to collect their books for their morning classes, and I was free till lunch-time, after which they were back in my charge. Kurt came over to me. "You didn't do bad Paul," he said, "but keep an eye on their hair and personal grooming in future." I reassured Kurt that I would, and told Williams to get shaved double quick right now, and that I would speak to him later. At about ten o' clock, Kurt found me in my room and told me they had just had a call to say that the new kid, Joe Regan, would be arriving in about ten minutes. The people delivering him had stopped off in town and called to tell us, which was their normal procedure, so that someone could be at the gate. Kurt and I drove over to the main gate and waited. Before long we heard the sound of a vehicle and a large black van drew up to the gates and we let it through, locking them after it, and followed it in our pick-up truck. The van stopped at the admin building and we parked behind. The driver and the man in the passenger seat got out and opened the side door. A scared looking lad with spiky blond hair got out. I was amazed to see he was in handcuffs. Kurt said he would get Rev Jackson and walked into the main building. I stood watching the scene. The two men in jeans and dark sweatshirts stood behind the boy on either side. I looked at his face; he had a scared but defiant look in his eyes. He would have run off if there was anywhere to run to, but there wasn't, so he was just waiting and trying not to look scared. Rev Jackson came out of the building with Kurt and walked over. He looked at the boy. "Ah, Master Regan, we've been expecting you," he said. He exchanged a few words with the men who had brought the lad and signed some papers; then they turned to go. "Fucking arseholes", the boy shouted after them. "Have a nice stay," one of the men replied, un-phased by this remark, then they were driving back to the gate. Kurt followed them in the pick-up truck to let them out. We watched the van drive off for a minute then Rev Jackson told us to follow him. He led us to his office and shut the door. "Well Master Regan, let me tell you now, that any future outbursts like that will not be tolerated. We run a tight ship here and swearing or taking the Lord's Name in vain will get you punished; you have been warned," he said, addressing the kid. "You can fuck-off too," the boy said. "You can't keep me here that's kidnapping, I know my rights," he said. Rev Jackson glared at the boy, even I felt scared; his very presence was enough to intimidate anyone. "You appear to be under some misapprehension," he said, "you are eighteen and legally under the control of your parents, and they have arranged for you to stay here for three months. During your time with us, we are in what is called loco parentis. What that means is that we have full responsibility for you, and authority over you, and that includes the authority to punish you. I most certainly won't be spoken to like that, I can see you need to be taught some discipline and respect for your elders," he added, and removed the paddle hanging on the wall and placed it on the desk. Joe Regan stared at it. "There ain't no way you are gonna paddle me; it ain't allowed," the boy said. "I most certainly am," Rev Jackson replied. "Your parents have given their consent to corporal punishment, and you will find that it is administered for all breaches of rules or regulations. Furthermore, both the State and County legislators have fought to retain it in our schools, unlike your home state of California, so it is perfectly legal." The boy said nothing, probably too dumbfounded to answer. He was staring at the large paddle on the desk with its double row of holes. "Before I punish you for your impertinence, I must acquaint you with the rules on contraband and personal possessions," Rev Jackson said, then opening a copy of the Conduct Book starting to read from it. "Whilst residing at the school, students are not allowed the following,mobile telephones, radios or music players, cameras, money or credit cards, alcohol, tobacco, matches or lighters, or reading material not specifically approved by a member of staff." He looked at Regan and waited. "I have some money in my pocket," he said, "and a packet of cigarettes and a lighter." "Thank you Master Regan," Rev Jackson said. "Finally, I must ask you whether you are in possession of any drugs." "No," the boy replied surly. "Very well, will you empty his pockets and place the contents on my desk. Mr Marsden, please assist me by searching Master Regan" he said, turning to me. I looked at the boy. He was still mesmerised by the paddle on the desk, and stood with his hands still cuffed in front of him. I stood behind him and placed my hands on his chest, feeling the breast pockets of his shirt. I could feel his heart beating fast and his nipple under my fingers, and also some paper. I reached into his pocket and took out some folded dollar bills and placed them on the desk. Now, I placed my hand in his left jeans pocket. The boy was wearing low slung baggy skater jeans and my hand slipped in easily. I pulled out a packet of cigarettes and placed it on the desk then again felt in his pocket. I could feel the boys cock, and took the opportunity to run my fingers down its full length before pulling out a few pieces of gum he had, apart from that it was empty. He had said nothing. I placed my hand in his left hip pocket and thrust down. I could feel his nuts and a lighter and a handful of change. I took hold of one of his balls through his pocket as I gathered up some of the change and gave it a quick squeeze before pulling out the change and placing it on the desk. I reached in his pocket again and felt around, I could feel the boy's cock, thicker and longer than before, and I gave his balls another squeeze before pulling out the lighter and the remainder of the coins. Joe had said nothing throughout this, obviously too scared to make any comment. "Cadets are not allowed personal possessions whilst they are here; your things will be returned when you leave," Rev Jackson said. "Before you go, there is the matter of your early rudeness to deal with, and for that you will be duly punished." The boy had been gazing at the paddle mesmerised by it, then when he spoke all trace of his earlier rudeness and defiance had gone. "I'm sorry Sir," he said; "please don't paddle me, I won't be rude again, I promise." "I'm glad to hear it," Rev Jackson said. "But, pleased as I am to hear your apology, you still have to be punished, so that you may learn the error of your ways and that rudeness or language of that sort will not be tolerated at this establishment. I will deal with you in a few minutes. Mr Marsden, will you escort Master Regan to the gym, and I will join you soon," he said turning to me. "Yes Sir" I replied and lead the still cuffed boy to the gym. Joe Regan remained silent during our walk over to the gym, but when we entered he seemed to regain some of his former cockiness. "God, what a shit-hole this place is," he said. "Blasphemy is a punishable offence, you had better smarten-up and get used to the rules, you'll be here some time," I said, "now face the wall and put your hands behind your head, legs apart." I had not known quite what to do with him when I took him in the gym, and telling him to face the wall avoided having to make eye contact. Joe dutifully did as he was told, and I found myself admiring his cute tight butt, clearly discernible despite the baggy low-slung skater jeans. Holding his hands behind his head had made his T shirt ride up, and I could read the Calvin Klein label of his boxers. As I gazed at his lean body, I realised that his skater jeans had a cargo pockets low down on his left leg. Damn! Why had I not seen those earlier, I thought. I was supposed to have searched the lad's pockets. "Hands on the wall, and spread those legs further," I said. As he complied I knelt on the floor behind him and opened the pocket and felt inside. I pulled out a small plastic bag and a small foil package. One glance was enough to tell me what it was; you don't carry oregano in small bags round with you and the tightly wrapped aluminium foil would be some kind of illegal drug also, probably speed, I thought. "Please," Joe said. "Please don't tell Mr Jackson, I'm in enough trouble as it is; please don't tell him," the boy pleaded. I was in something of a dilemma, I should have checked this pocket in the Principal's office. The fact that I had missed it, did not reflect well on me, but in truth, the boy was already in deep trouble as it was, and I could not help but feel attracted to this sexy young lad from California with his spiky blond hair. "Well Joe," I said, "you've been assigned to Franklin, and I'm your instructor, so I guess I can take care of this if you want. Listen good, I can and will punish you; but if you would rather keep Rev Jackson out of this, I guess we can, the choice is yours." "What will you do?" Joe asked me. "I'm not negotiating with you Joebut believe me, if Rev Jackson had found this on you, you would have been for it." "Thanks, Mr Marsden" Joe said, "you punish me instead, or I'll do anything you want." Something in the way he said he would do anything, made my cock stiffen in my jockstrap and I wondered if this street-wise boy was taking the piss out of me. Quickly I put the incriminating evidence in my pocket and told him to resume his position with his hands behind his head. Barely had he done so, than I heard the sound of the doors to the gym being pulled open and Kurt walked in, carrying a bundle of clothes and a bag. Kurt looked round and then placed the clothes and bag on a bench. A few minutes later the Rev Jackson joined us, he was holding the paddle that had so mesmerised Joe, and he told Joe to turn around to face us. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small key and giving it to Kurt, told him to remove the boy's handcuffs. Then he told Joe to strip, as he would not be requiring the clothes he arrived in whilst he was at the Camp. Reluctantly Joe began to undress, until he was standing in just his boxers. "All the way, Mr Regan, you won't be needing boxers while you are here," Rev Jackson said to the boy. Joe hesitated, then pulled down his boxers and stepped out of them. All eyes were upon the naked youth, but far from looking embarrassed his eyes betrayed a look of proud defiance. He was certainly a good looking kid, his smooth lean body tanned by the Californian sun looked hairless, apart from a small bunch of pubes above his uncircumcised cock. Kurt picked up the boy's discarded clothes and put them in a black plastic bag. I was glad I had removed the boy's stash because Kurt checked Joe's jeans pockets before placing them in the bag, and he didn't miss the cargo pocket as I had. Kurt opened the store cupboard and dragged out what looked like a home-gym weight lifting bench. With practised ease he unfolded the legs. The top was covered in black leather and whilst one end was near table height, it sloped down at a steep angle with its supporting legs splayed out. Attached to each leg were thick leather straps. The Rev. Jackson addressed Joe. "Well Master Regan, it is time for you to learn your first lesson at this school, and that is that at all times you will address staff with the respect due to them, and that swearing is a punishable offence. Your parents have sent you here because they consider you need some discipline, and that is exactly what you will get at this establishment; discipline. You will at all times obey your instructors and abide by the rules or you will be severely punished. Do I make myself clear?" he said. Joe looked scared. The realisation of the purpose of the bench had struck him, as it had me, but naked and alone with the three of us, his options were few. I could almost read his mind; he could not escape the Camp, or fight his way out, his best chance lay in co-operating. "Yes Sir" he replied. "Very well Master Regan, assume a position leaning over the bench," Rev. Jackson said, pointing with the paddle to where Joe was to stand. Joe walked hesitantly forward and leant over. Kurt told Joe to spread his legs, and secured each ankle to a leg of the bench, before moving to the front and doing the same with the boy's wrists. The top of the bench extended past the legs and, as Kurt attached the wrist straps, Joe had to stretch right forward forcing him to push his butt up and back. It made him look as if he was begging to be spanked. I looked at Joe's cute teenage butt, small and tight, but still plump enough to present a nice round target; his legs stretched wide apart, the cheeks of his arse smooth and white in contrast to the rest of his tanned body. The Rev. Jackson stepped forward and positioned himself to spank Joe. "For your insolence and bad language today, I shall give you ten licks, Master Regan," Rev. Jackson said, and with that he lifted the paddle high and brought it down hard on the boy's right buttock. "CRACK!" The sound reverberated round the gym like a gun-shot, and the boy let out a loud gasp. As the Rev. Jackson drew back the paddle I saw that the right cheek of Joe's arse was now a deep pink on which contrasted several white circles which corresponded to the holes in the paddle. The Rev. Jackson had moved with athleticism I had not expected, delivering the swipe hard and fast; and he was now standing ready to administer the second swipe. He looked at Joe's red ass then lifted the paddle high again and brought it swinging down again on the same buttock. Joe cried out and bucked, but the restraints held him down. The Rev. Jackson waited a few seconds, then lifted the paddle high once more, and again brought it down hard on the same spot. Joe screamed louder and bucked wildly, thrusting his butt from side to side in a desperate effort to escape, but the restraints held him firm. The Rev Jackson was an expert with the paddle, and the paddle he used was both wider and looked thicker than ours. After Joe's first swat the Rev Jackson had delivered two more hard stinging swats to the same cheek, so that Joe was screaming and writhing about, and I could tell that he was mentally begging the Principal to spank his other butt cheek. In due course the Rev Jackson obliged, delivering two hard whacks in rapid succession to the other side of Joe's arse turning that bright red too, before he changed his stance to deliver two more stinging swats across the centre of the boy's now bright red ass. Joe was screaming and sobbing at the same time, and bobbing about despite the straps holding him down. The Rev Jackson moved forward and stepped closer to Joe, standing by his shoulders. He lifted the paddle high again and brought it down hard. Standing behind Joe, I could see that the angle was different; though the wooden paddle first struck Joe's arse it carried through between his splayed legs hitting his dangling balls. I could swear that after the "crack" of the paddle hitting his arse, I heard the smack as it hit his balls, before that is, Joe let out another loud scream. The Rev Jackson told the sobbing boy to remember his lesson and then said "carry on" and left. Joe lay sobbing on the bench, totally spent and exhausted by his ordeal, his arse, so recently smooth and white, was now puffy and a deep red, it would be purple by tonight I thought. I looked at Kurt, wondering what we were to do next and, as if reading my mind he said he had other things to attend to, but that I should take Regan to the bunkhouse when he had composed himself and read him the Conduct Book, after which I should have him fall-in properly dressed in gym kit for induction at the dispensary in 30 minutes. I gave Kurt a few minutes after he had left to get well out of earshot before I spoke to Joe who, though still sobbing, appeared to be regaining some control of his emotions. I wanted to say something nice to the lad, but I knew I had to maintain my authority, so I chose my words carefully. "Rev Jackson is right, Regan, mess up while you are here and you'll get punished hard. You ever been spanked before, was it your first time?" I asked him. For some reason my question broke the lad, and he was crying like a little boy. The tears again flowing down his face, and I couldn't understand a word he was saying through his sobbing. I went to the front of the bench and untied Joe's hands. Joe remained lying on the bench. "Come on, Joe," I said, "up you get." Reluctantly Joe stood up. As he stood, his legs stretched wide apart, he moved his hands to cover his privates, but not before I had seen his cock rise up as he had stood up. Looking down at the bench, I could see a sticky wet patch on the black leather. "Hands behind your head," I shouted. Joe did as he was bidden, and the sight of his hard young cock rewarded me gradually starting to ascend. As I watched, I saw his foreskin slowly start to retract as his cock moved ever up, until at last it lay vertical against his belly, his foreskin stretched right back, his purple knob nearly touching his belly button. I looked again at the sticky marks on the bench. "It looks like you get-off on being spanked Joe" I said. "No Sir, I don't" he said bitterly, "it just happened; I didn't mean it to." I looked at his hard young cock again, as it stood proudly pointing skyward. He definitely had good reason to be proud I thought; he was certainly a very well endowed lad, his cock must have been a full nine inches. Joe stood looking at me; his hands held behind his head and legs stretched wide apart, still tied to the bench legs. God he looked so cute and sexy. I walked behind him and looked at his arse, now a deep red from the recent spanking. "OK Cadet Regan," I said, "you won't have much chance to jack-off here, as you will find out. Show me what that big cock of yours can do," I said in my most commanding voice. Joe smiled at me insolently and taking his cock in his right hand lent back and slowly started to wank his big tool. He showed not the slightest bit of embarrassment and instead delighted in putting on an exhibitionist display of masturbating. It was obvious that he had done this many times before, and after a few minutes I could see he was close to coming. He lent back further and lewdly thrusting his hips forward said "Suck my cock yeah suck on my big cock." I was sorely tempted, but I was shocked by the arrogance in his voice. Instead I delivered a hard smack with my hand to his backside causing him to totter and put both his hands on the bench to catch himself from falling. "That's enough," I said. "You had your chance, now stand with your hands behind your head, if you touch your cock again I'll give you another spanking." Joe's face was a picture of pained astonishment, as he complied with my order. "Stay like that," I said to him, as I went to the pile of kit that Kurt had brought in. It was a set of the Camp's standard issue PE kit and sure enough it contained a jockstrap which I carried over and placed on the bench before kneeling and unfastening Joe's ankle straps. When I had done that I told Joe to put on the jock. It was decidedly on the small size, and I watched in amusement as he struggled to get his erect cock within the pouch. Either his knob insisted on poking out above the wide elastic waist strap or the whole pouch was tenting in the most obscene way as it struggled to contain his ample endowment. However, after a few attempts he had managed to push his cock down into the pouch in such a way that his cock was held firmly down, though it created a large bulge and was clearly visible in outline through the tightly stretched thin fabric. I threw Joe the shorts and singlet and told him to put them on. The shorts were on the small size too, both in the waist and the leg, but the singlet was about right for him. Joe had arrived in trainers, and Kurt had left those, so within a few minutes he was dressed and I told him to follow me to the bunkhouse. When we arrived I led him to one of the empty bunks, and told him to stand by it while I got the conduct book from my room; a few minutes later I was reading him the rules. We had plenty of time before we were to meet Kurt at the dispensary, so I insisted on Joe repeating each rule back to me after I had read it and asking if he understood it. When it came to the rule about drugs I asked Joe just exactly what it was I had confiscated and reminded him that I had yet to punish him. Joe told me that they were what I had suspected; weed and a bit of speed. He asked what would have happened to him if he had been caught with them by the Rev Jackson, and I replied that I thought it would probably have earned him another ten licks, minimum; Joe looked suitably subdued. When I came to the section about masturbation and it being a sin, Joe sniggered, "What are you gonna do, spank us for jacking off?" he asked. "That's exactly what I'm going to do." I told him, "and persistent offenders get sent to Rev Jackson, so Regan you had better watch yourself." I told him. "I shall be punishing some cadets later for exactly that. You had better come along and see for yourself what happens if you get caught," I looked at my watch; we should be going in five minutes I thought, so I quickly read Joe the remainder of the Conduct Book and asked him if he had understood it. Joe looked glum and nodded, a quick glance from me made him shout "Yes Sir," and with that I told him to wait outside. Quickly I replaced the Conduct Book in my office and joined Joe outside, and together we walked over to the dispensary. The dispensary was just next to the mess-hall and, though I had noticed it, I had not been inside it. The door was locked, but Kurt joined us soon and, unlocking the door ushered us inside. The small windowless room was spartanly furnished with two chairs, a desk, a filing cabinet and what I took to be an examination table against one wall. Looking round I also saw a large cupboard on the other wall, a sink, and various accoutrements of a medical nature, such as an eye chart and floor scales. Obviously this room also passed as some kind of medical examination room as well. Once inside Kurt locked the door again; then looked Joe up and down. "Strip," Kurt told him almost nonchalantly. Joe hesitated until Kurt repeated his order in a forceful tone. Joe knew better than to argue, and pulled off his singlet and then his shorts before pulling off his trainers, so that he stood in just his jockstrap. Kurt seemed satisfied with that, and opening the filing cabinet pulled out a form. "First, before your medical, you get a haircut" Kurt told Joe. The boy's eyes flashed a look of defiance, but there was no escape from the room and Joe realised it. Kurt gestured to the chair and for Joe to sit. Kurt picked up some electric clippers and within minutes Joe's spiky blond hair was falling to the floor. I could see tears welling up in Joe's eyes as the strands of hair drifted to the floor, and he looked utterly dejected. When he had finished cutting Joe's hair, Kurt told him to stand up and drop his jockstrap. Joe looked at him quizzically not making any move to obey. "What you gonna do?" he asked. Kurt looked him straight in the eye, "Kids like you don't have a bush" he said. "No way, dude," Joe shouted and turned round to run, but Kurt was upon him in an instant, pushing him back against the wall. "Face the wall, hands behind your back," he shouted. Joe did as he was told and no sooner were Joe's hands behind his back than they had been cuffed. Kurt led him back to the middle of the room. "Pull his jock down," Kurt said to me. Happily I did as I was instructed. Joe now stood completely naked his hands cuffed behind his back. I looked at the small clump of curly pubes that contrasted with the otherwise hairless chest and abdomen. "Don't move now," Kurt said, "or you'll get cut, and I don't think you would want that, would you?" Joe stood perfectly still as Kurt deftly removed the lad's pubic bush then continued running the clippers down the inside of his legs and up over his balls, shaving all traces of hair from him. The job completed, Kurt told Joe to stand by the door, and I saw that on the wall behind was a height chart. Kurt gave me a ruler and asked me to read off the boy's height, "5ft '7in" I called out. Next Kurt told him to get on the scales. I read his weight; "120 pounds". Kurt threw me a tape measure and I measured his chest expansion, "32-36in," "Waist?" Kurt asked; I bent to measure Joe's waist and Kurt called over for me to sit down and for Joe to stand in front of me. I sat on the chair so recently vacated by Joe and he stood before me. I passed the tape measure behind him, staring at his now shaved pubic area and his beautiful young cock, "29in" I called back. "Dick? Soft and hard," Kurt asked coolly. I couldn't believe that I had just been asked to measure the lad's cock, nor could Joe. . Once again defiance flashed in his eyes, but the thought of resistance had gone, like his pubes; perhaps that was why the new inmates got shaved I thought. I took the tape measure and ran it along the length of the lad's thick cock; "5¢in" I called out. "Circumference?" Kurt asked; "5in," I answered. "Now hard," Kurt called out. There was no need for me to tell Joe to get hard. Under my attention his cock had already started to thicken and lengthen, and was starting to elevate; soon it was near vertical. I pulled his cock down and wanked his shaft hard and fast a few times. I could see drops of pre-cum oozing from his slit; then I again measured him. Joe was not the full nine inches I had thought, but not far from it just a quarter of an inch less, but I measured accurately, fully erect his cock was six and a half inches round. Joe was breathing hard and was red in the face, though whether from excitement or embarrassment, I could not tell. Kurt's voice brought me back to the moment. "I'll measure his balls, you watch so you can see how it's done," he told me, as he stood over me with a strange glass device in his hand. Kurt took my chair and sat down and I stood and watched. He told Joe to stand with his legs apart and, taking a thick Perspex disk with a wide slit in it, slipped Joe's ball sac through the slit so that it rested above his balls. Then he took a short heavy glass cylinder, about 5 inches long and 3 inches in diameter, and pushed it round Joe's balls and secured the clips to the disk. Joe's balls were now encased in the glass tube. Kurt bent down and picked up the other part of the device. It was like a plunger made from Perspex and it screwed into the base of the glass cylinder. Within seconds of attaching the base Kurt was spinning the wheel at the bottom of the device and the Perspex base plate started to ascend on a screw thread, soon making contact with Joe's balls, gently lifting them. The glass tube had accommodated Joe's balls comfortably at the start of the operation, but as the base plate rose lifting them both to the same height I could see his balls, big and round, pressing against the walls of the glass cylinder. Then, as Kurt continued to turn the wheel and the base rose higher, I could see Joe's balls start to be squashed between the two Perspex plates. His big round hairless balls were slowly being flattened. Joe gasped and begged Kurt to stop, but Kurt took no notice; screwing the device tighter still, until Joe's balls had been compacted into a solid mass, squashed tightly against every surface of the cylinder. Joe was now bobbing up and down on his toes and pleading for Kurt to remove it, but instead Kurt just pressed a button on the wheel, locking it into position and then leaned forward to look at the cylinder more closely. The side of the cylinder had a scale etched on it and, after studying it, Kurt read the measurement out; "two and five eighths cubic inches," he called it sounded as though he was talking about some kind of engine. Joe was still bobbing about on his toes trying to get some relief from the pressure on his nuts, but Kurt continued to ignore him. "Kneel on the table," he instructed Joe, "the sooner its over the sooner we can remove it," he said. Quite what "it" was Kurt had not said, but as Joe reluctantly clambered onto the table, I had a shrewd guess, and I was not far wrong. As Joe knelt on the table, his bruised arse in the air with the ball-measuring device still clamped tightly to his balls, Kurt opened a draw in the desk and took a bright steel surgical instrument from it. "We have to give all new residents a thorough search," he told me, as he proceeded to apply lubricant from a tube to what I now realised was a speculum. "Perhaps you can assist me?" Kurt asked, looking at me. "This procedure can sometimes have side effects," he said, and passing me a tall glass beaker used to dispense medicines directed me to position it under Joe's cock. Kurt then slowly but firmly pushed the speculum into Joe's anus. Joe swore, but Kurt just grinned and squeezed the handles of the speculum, causing its business end to open. Joe swore again. Kurt asked me to hold the instrument in place with my free hand for a minute, and I found myself standing to the side of Joe, holding the glass beaker to his cock in my left hand whilst pressing the speculum firmly up his tight arse with my right hand. I could not resist squeezing the handles, and was rewarded by the sight of Joe's cock begin to harden once more. Whilst Kurt was rummaging in the desk drawers I squeezed the speculum rhythmically. By the time Kurt came back, Joe's cock was rigid and leaking pre-cum. In his hand Kurt held a pen torch and a strangely shaped plastic probe. He looked at Joe's red arse with the speculum imbedded deep inside, the boy's rigid cock, and his balls held tight in the glass device dangling between his legs, and grinned. He gave the boy's rump a resounding slap. "Bastard," Joe cried out, the word trailing off before it had left his lips as he realised his mistake. Kurt said nothing, but reached for the ball measuring device. Lifting it slightly he released the lock and turned the wheel some more. Joe began to wail as his balls were squashed tighter. "Shut up Regan, or I'll really give you something to shout about," Kurt said, as he locked the device once more. Then, taking the handles of the speculum from me he squeezed them together, stretching Joe's anus wide. Kurt lent down to make his examination, shining the torch into the boy's gaping pink hole. Then he picked up the probe and inserted it. I could see Joe's cock start to twitch; then all of a sudden it erupted, shooting a great jet of spunk into the glass beaker, to be quickly followed by two more equally powerful jets. Kurt carried on probing and semen continued to dribble from Joe's cock in a seemingly endless supply. When it finally stopped and Kurt paused for a minute then, reaching down he gave the wheel on the ball measuring device another few turns, further tightening it, before resuming probing Joe's anal tract. Joe groaned, but once again spunk began to dribble from his cock. When it had ceased, Kurt appeared satisfied and withdrew the speculum; looking at the ball measuring device he called out that Joe's balls now measured 1 7/8th cubic inches, before he released the device. I placed the beaker I had been holding on the desk; it had a copious amount of spunk in it and I marvelled that Joe had produced so much. His balls looked red and sore, but as if reading my thoughts Kurt interrupted the silence telling Joe that he should be grateful as, since wanking was strictly forbidden, he should be able to manage the next few days quite easily having been well drained. The medical examination now appearing to be concluded, Kurt told Joe to get dressed and we watched as Regan stepped into his jockstrap and pulled it up. He appeared utterly compliant, all trace of defiance had left him, and I was not surprised. To have been severely paddled within fifteen minutes of arriving. To lose his own clothes and be shorn of his spiky hair and teenage pubes, Then to be subjected to the most humiliating quasi medical examination culminating in his nuts being crushed whilst painfully being milked till he was well and truly drained would demolish any boy's arrogance. "You are dismissed, Regan," Kurt said. "You can wait in the mess-hall till lunch, it's nearly time," he told the boy. When Joe had left he looked at me then picked up the glass beaker containing Joe's semen; it too had a scale etched on it and he read out the measurement "Nearly a full fluid ounce, not bad" he said, before pouring it down the sink and rinsing the beaker. "Come on," he said, "let's get some lunch, we have Activities afterwards, and don't forget you gotta punish those boys of yours later," he drawled. Two more parts to come by Stephen before I take over. Let him know if you enjoy them.