This chapter finds the Rat's home life sinking to new depths, and we'll also get to see some of what Osterley has in store for him. Revenge is very, very sweet... In between times, we'll follow Jordan and watch his relationship with Stephens evolving yet further...
For the second Saturday running David was woken up by Joe invading his attic. This time Joe snatched the sleeping bag away before David was sufficiently awake to stop him, and the younger boy was already peering at David’s erection and flicking it before David had even properly woken up.
“Morning, Gerbil,” said Joe, breezily. “I woke up early, so I thought you could entertain me until the rest of the family gets up.”
“What time is it?” asked David, blearily.
“I dunno, about six, I think.”
“What, on a Saturday? Go away and let me get back to sleep.”
“Move over and let me get on the mattress, and maybe you’ll be able to.”
Grudgingly David moved to one side of the mattress, and Joe, who was today wearing only his pyjama trousers, lay down next to him, pulled the cover over them both and turned the light out.
“Now you can go back to sleep,” Joe told him. “As long as you can do it with my cock in your bum, anyway.”
“Oh, God, not now,” protested David. “It’s far too early. If you have to do that to me, can’t you at least wait until a civilised time?”
“Well… if you prefer I can go and call up all my mates, get them to come round and do it to you once they get here?”
“I wouldn’t. But… come on, Joe, please can I sleep a bit longer first?”
“Well, okay then. Let’s see if we can get to sleep like this.”
David grunted and rolled onto his side, presenting his back to his unwelcome sleeping partner. And Joe lay down beside him, facing the same way, and kept quiet just long enough for David to be on the point of dropping off once more. And then Joe started poking his finger against David’s anus, and David rolled over to face him angrily.
“Don’t forget you‘re not allowed to swear or be rude to anyone in the Red Six,” Joe reminded him before he could say anything. “And that includes me.”
David’s shoulders slumped. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he asked, on the verge of tears. “I let you do that last night, didn’t I, so why do you want to do it again so soon?”
“Because it feels brilliant - I’ve told you that already. And what’s the point of having a tame Gerbil if you can’t use it to make yourself feel brilliant?”
“But I hate it,” said David, still fighting back tears of helplessness.
“So what? Nobody cares what you think, Gerbil – just like you didn’t care what we thought when you were rude to us and shouted at us and told us to go and play in the compost heap – remember?”
David couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
“So it serves you right if you don’t like what’s happening to you now,” Joe went on. “Now lie on your tummy so I can get on top of you and put it in.”
Slowly David rolled onto his stomach.
“That’s better,” said Joe. “But… actually I’m not going to do it to you now. I might later, but not at the moment. You can go back to sleep if you want.”
David wasn’t sure he could believe him, but as there wasn’t anything he could do about it he just relaxed and tried to go back to sleep. Joe lay down beside him, but didn’t seem inclined to do anything to him, and after a bit David did manage to fall asleep.
He woke up some time later. There was some daylight coming through the hatch, but of course he still didn’t know what the time was. Joe was asleep next to him, lying on his back. The younger boy’s face looked soft and child-like in his sleep, not at all like his usual belligerent self, and for a moment David almost forgot how much he hated the kid. But then he lifted the sleeping bag and saw that Joe had an erection (he had apparently removed his pyjama bottoms when threatening David with sex), and that dispelled any image of innocence. Probably he’s dreaming of doing more awful things to me, David thought.
Although he was otherwise naked, Joe was still wearing his watch, and by twisting his neck David was able to make out that it was almost nine o’clock. He was tempted to wake the little brat up by thumping him, or by grabbing the rigid penis and wrenching it hard, but he realised that any satisfaction he got from that would be very short-lived, and would be sure to result in serious punishment. So instead he gently shook the boy’s shoulder.
“Hey, Joe, it’s nine o’clock,” he said, quietly. “Do you think we ought to get up?”
“Huh?” said Joe, sleepily. “Whazzat, Gerbil?”
“I said it’s nine o’clock, and we ought to get up.”
“Okay… but maybe I should fuck you first.”
“Or maybe we haven’t got time. Come on, Joe, you know you can do that to me whenever you want. Let’s just get up and get ready for breakfast.”
“I can, can’t I?” said Joe, grinning at him. “I love thinking about that, too – I can do whatever I want to you… still, maybe I shouldn’t do it too often, or it’ll get boring, and I’d hate that to happen!”
He got up, walked to the hatch and climbed down the ladder. David got up, folded the sleeping bag up and put it on the mattress, picked up Joe’s pyjama trousers, which had been left at the bottom of the mattress, and followed him.
“You forgot these,” he said, dropping them on Joe’s bed.
“Thanks,” said Joe, pulling on his pants. “I’ll tell Molly you’re up on my way to the bathroom. You’d better wait here until she’s ready for you.”
In due course Molly supervised him as he washed and handed him the cut-off jeans, which were apparently all he was going to be allowed to wear at weekends. After breakfast he vacuumed the living room and was then told he could do whatever he wanted, so he collected a book from Tim’s room – having forced himself to ask permission first – and then took it out into the garden to read: at the far end of the garden he was out of sight of the house and able to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet.
He came in for lunch, but as soon as lunch was over he went back into the garden, thinking how nice it was to be on his own again without having horrible peasant kids tormenting him.
An hour and a half after lunch he needed to pee, so he strolled indoors. He could have just peed in the hedge at the end of the garden, but he thought only peasants did uncouth things like that – though thirty seconds after entering the house he was wishing he’d just been uncouth for once.
“Ah, there you are,” said Tim, as David headed towards the small downstairs toilet. “My sister was looking for you. You’d better come with me.”
“Can I just go to the toilet first?”
“No, she’s been waiting long enough. Come on.”
He marched David up to Molly’s room, where David was dismayed to find Molly and two other girls of about the same age.
“Oh, good, you’ve found him,” she said. “Come here, Gerbil: we need someone to practise using make-up on. Sit in front of the dressing-table.”
“You’re joking! There’s no way I’m letting you put make-up all over me!”
“Tim, could you help to get him ready?” asked Molly.
Five minutes later David was sitting in the chair in front of the mirror, so tightly tied into place that he could barely twitch. Tim had checked that the knots were all tight enough and then disappeared, leaving David alone with the make-up trainees.
“Do you want to go first, Bella?” asked Molly, completely ignoring David’s pleas to be released, and the first girl picked up a box of foundation and pondered for a moment.
“I’d keep still if I were you, Gerbil,” Molly advised him. “Otherwise you’ll get stuff in your eyes.”
The first girl set to work, and the results were horrendous: David ended up looking like a circus clown: bright red lipstick was smeared round his mouth, his cheeks were plastered in… well, something or other, though he couldn’t tell what; and the eyes were surrounded with thick smudges of mascara, with wiggly eyebrow pencil lines above.
“I don’t know, Bella,” said Molly, critically. “I don’t think the eyes are quite right. What do you think, Gerbil?”
“It’s bloody obvious that it’s awful, so why bother asking?”
“Don’t swear in front of ladies. It’s really bad manners. If you swear again we’ll have to wash your mouth out with soap. But you’re right about it not being very good. Maybe I’ll have a try next.”
First she scrubbed away at David’s face using cold cream and tissues, though it would be fair to say that this didn’t entirely remove Bella’s efforts. Molly herself didn’t seem to be much better at it: again the mascara was hideously overdone, and the lipstick wasn’t confined to the lips, either.
“Is that better, or worse, do you think?” she asked him.
“It’s worse. Look, you’d better untie me, because I really need the toilet.”
“No, you don’t. You’re just saying that to try to get out of letting Rosie have her turn. Now hold still while I get this stuff off your face.”
She scrubbed away at his face again, and then the third girl set to work. She seemed to have learned not to go quite so far overboard with quantity, and in fact she seemed to know more about this than the other two. She added some eye-shadow, and was much more careful about applying the mascara, though this meant that it also took her a lot longer.
“Stop wriggling!” she commanded.
“I can’t help it. I told you, I need to go to the toilet.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait. Now keep still.”
She kept working, being very careful with the eyebrow pencil, touching up the make-up around the left eye, and adding a little more powder to David’s cheeks.
“We really need to do something with his hair,” she said. “Pass me the brush for a moment…”
“Look, can’t you bloody hurry up?” cried David, who was getting desperate by now.
“If I rush it you won’t look pretty,” she admonished him. “Now, have we got any hair-spray?”
She brushed his hair back from his forehead, sprayed it, added an Alice band and looked at it critically.
“I think it looks better like that than how it was,” she said.
“Me, too,” said Molly. “We’ll make him grow it from now on, and we won’t let him get it cut at all. I think he’d look nice with a pony-tail…”
“For God’s sake, let me go!” cried David. “I swear I’ll come straight back… please! Oh, fuck….”
“Now you’re in trouble,” said Molly. “I warned you what would happen if you swore, didn’t I? Well, now as soon as we’re finished we’ll have… oh, look! He’s peeing in his pants!”
The girls watched, giggling, as the cut-off jeans turned dark and water began to pool around David’s bottom. David blushed deeply: this was almost the most embarrassing thing that had happened to him yet. And it seemed to go on for ages, too: he’d really needed to go, and now it just wouldn’t stop: urine was dripping from the chair now and forming a pool underneath it.
“What a little baby!” exclaimed Bella, scornfully. “How old is he, Molly?”
“Nearly fifteen,” Molly told them, and they screamed with laughter, and David turned an even deeper shade of red.
“Now we’ll have to stop and get him cleaned up,” she went on, taking a pair of scissors from the dressing table and cutting David free. He stood up, dripping, and turned towards the door, but Molly stopped him.
“Wait,” she said. “You’ll walk it all through the house. Keep still while I find a towel.”
She went and pulled an already-used towel from the laundry basket and threw it to him, telling him to remove his shorts and dry himself a bit.
“But… look, I can’t! I mean, there are girls here!”
“So what? You haven’t got anything worth hiding, you know that. Now either do as you’re told, or I’ll have to go and find Tim and Joe.”
Reluctantly David undid his shorts, let them slide to his ankles and then stepped out of them, at the same time making sure he was well covered with the towel. He rubbed himself dry and made another abortive attempt to leave the room.
“Use the towel on the floor and the chair,” Molly told him. “You can’t leave a big wet puddle everywhere.”
Somehow David managed to tuck one end of the towel between his legs and use the other for mopping up.
“Good. And now you’d better come and have a bath.”
“But… look, Molly, I can manage on my own,” said David in dismay.
“No, you can’t: you’re such a baby you pee in your pants, so you certainly can’t be trusted in the bath unsupervised. Come along – and put that towel in the laundry basket on the way past.”
The three girls hustled him to the bathroom. After he dumped the towel in the basket he kept his hands held over his groin, and they let him stand like that while Molly ran the bath, but when it was ready they grabbed his hands and dragged them away so that they could have a good look.
“He isn’t very big, is he?” commented Rosie.
“My little brother is bigger than that, and he’s only six,” added Bella.
“I told you he was a baby,” Molly said. “And why do you think we all call him ‘Gerbil’? Okay, Gerbil, get in and keep your hands behind your head as usual.”
Blushing, David got into the bath and put his hands behind his head, and the three girls took it in turns to wash him all over, but especially round his genitals and bum. They kept up a non-stop commentary on his shortcomings while they were at it, and the only thing David was grateful for was that at least he didn’t go hard, despite having his penis manipulated.
He was ordered to wash his own face, which he did as thoroughly as he could, hoping to get rid of every last trace of the make-up before either of Molly’s brothers saw him. And then Molly made him get out and lie on his back on the bath-mat. She showed her friends how to apply talc to a baby’s sensitive areas, and then, to David’s absolute horror, she folded a plain white towel up, placed it under his bottom and used it as a diaper, pinning it into place with a couple of safety-pins.
“Shit, Molly, you can’t make me wear this!” he cried.
“Well, your shorts are all wet, and I’m not risking you ruining another pair by peeing in them. You can’t control yourself, so you should wear a nappy like other babies have to. Or would you prefer to stay completely bare all afternoon?”
“Yes, but… bloody hell…”
“Oh, that reminds me,” she said. “Sit on him, girls.”
The other two pinned him down while Molly got a flannel, a glass and a bar of soap and proceeded to wash his mouth out. It tasted vile, and he struggled to keep his mouth shut, but Molly twisted one of his nipples really sharply, and when he opened his mouth to yell she was able to shove the soapy flannel into his mouth. He was sure he was going to puke, but somehow he managed not to, and when they finally let him go he lurched to the toilet and spat copiously and then grabbed the glass, filled it at the tap and rinsed his mouth out several times until the taste of soap had finally gone.
“Every time you swear from now on we’ll have to do that,” Molly told him. “And maybe we’ll have to whip you as well, especially if you use really naughty words. Now, Rosie didn’t quite get time to finish her make-up on you, so we’d better go back to the bedroom and let her start again. This time we won’t tie you up as long as you keep still and let her work in peace, but if you struggle or mess about I’ll get Joe to come and whip you.”
So David had to sit, wearing only a diaper, in front of the mirror while Rosie had another go and making him up. She was definitely better at this than the other two, and when she had eventually finished David looked quite presentable – or would have done if he’d been a ten-year-old girl who had been allowed to use her mother’s make-up. At least there were no smudges, and the lipstick was confined to his lips.
“Not bad,” said Molly, when Rosie had finished brushing David’s hair back and adding the Alice band. “I think we should celebrate. Gerbil, go down to the kitchen and fetch us a bottle of Coke, four glasses, and some biscuits or something to go with it.”
David looked at her in horror. “I can’t go downstairs looking like this!” he said.
“Of course you can. The stairs are in the usual place, and you managed to go down them on your own at breakfast time. And don’t touch your face, or you’ll smudge Rosie’s work.”
“Yes, but… I mean… look, please, Molly, don’t make me go downstairs like this! Tim and Joe will slaughter me – and your mother! What’s she going to say?”
“I don’t know, but you’re going to find out. Now go, or I’ll whip you and then still make you go afterwards.”
David crept down the stairs as quietly as he could. He was fairly sure that Tim and Joe would be watching television in the living room, and if he was careful he could get past it without being noticed. He hoped Mrs Devlin would be at work somewhere other than the kitchen, but of course she was standing right next to the fridge, which gave him no chance of sneaking in unnoticed.
“Oh, don’t you look sweet?” she said, just about managing to suppress laughter.
“Please, Mrs Devlin, can’t you get the girls to leave me alone?” he begged.
“They’re not doing any harm, and it’ll clean off afterwards. Where are your shorts, though? I think maybe a nappy is a bit below even you.”
“They made me wear it.”
“Well… I wet myself. But I couldn’t help it – they had me tied up!”
And this time Mrs Devlin couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter. Quickly she mastered herself.
“In that case, maybe you should keep that on for a bit,” she said. “Anyway, why did you come? Did Molly just want me to admire her make-up job?”
“No, it was Rosie who did this. I’m supposed to take a bottle of Coke and some biscuits up to them.”
“All right. Wait there and I’ll get you a tray.”
She found a tray, some glasses, a packet of biscuits and some cup cakes, added a bottle of Coke and one of lemonade and handed it to David. And at that moment Tim walked into the kitchen. He took one look, burst out laughing and collapsed onto a chair holding his stomach.
David grabbed the tray and headed for the stairs, but Tim recovered sufficiently to be able to yell “Joe!” and so the younger brother emerged from the living room just as David came out of the kitchen. He fell about, too, and David, tears of mortification seeping from his eyes, pushed past him and ran up the stairs, kicking Molly’s bedroom door closed behind him.
“Did they like the make-up?” Rosie asked, innocently. “Oh, look, I’m going to have to do the mascara again. You shouldn’t cry with make-up on, you know. It always makes it run.”
Five minutes later she was just putting the finishing touches to the repair job when the door opened and the two boys came in. Tim was holding a camera.
“Smile, Gerbil,” he said, and before David could react the camera clicked.
“I can’t wait to see how that turns out,” said Rosie. “Can I have a copy, so I can remember how the make-up goes?”
Molly eventually chased her brothers out of the room so that the girls could enjoy their drinks, cakes and biscuits. They gave David a cake and some biscuits and plenty to drink – in fact, when they had all had a glass of Coke and one of lemonade they insisted on David finishing the bottles, telling him that otherwise he’d have to go back downstairs and put them back in the fridge. He couldn’t face that, but a little later, while the girls were taking it in turns to apply their own make-up, he found that he needed to pee again. He stood up and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Molly asked him.
“I need a pee.”
“Well, you can’t go yet. We’re still busy.”
“Yes, but… oh, look, Molly, you can’t make me pee in this nappy!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t… well, actually I suppose it would be good practice for us, learning how to change a dirty nappy, but I don’t think there’s another clean white towel. We’ll have to buy a couple. No, stay there and I’ll sort something out.”
She left the room and came back a couple of minutes later followed by Joe, who was carrying the chamber pot that was normally kept in David’s attic.
“Oh, no!” he cried. “I’m not using that – not in front of all of you!”
“Yes, you are, because otherwise we’ll tie your hands behind your back and wait for you to soil the nappy – but we won’t change it until tea-time, and then you’ll have to spend the rest of the day stark naked because we won’t have a clean nappy for you. So, take the nappy off and get on with it.”
David slowly unpinned his diaper and turned his back on them, picking up the potty and placing it on the chair so that he could pee into it.
“No, not like that!” said Molly, snatching the pot away before he could start and putting it on the floor. “That’s not how babies do it: you have to sit on the potty and then go.”
“No, please! Come on, Molly…”
“Joe, go and get the whip,” said Molly.
Joe reached for the door-handle, but David couldn’t face being whipped in front of the girls, so he forced himself to squat over the potty. He couldn’t actually sit on it like a baby because it was too small: if he sat on it his penis wouldn’t be over the pot at all, so he had to use his hands to support himself in a squatting position with his penis over the centre of the pot. He had to lean forwards a bit, because his penis wasn’t long enough to hang down properly.
“No, you have to spread your legs as wide as you can,” insisted Molly, slapping his thigh.
Closing his eyes in shame David did that and then started to pee, while the three girls and one boy watched his water coming out and jeered and made sarcastic remarks. He was almost crying again by the time he ran dry.
“There’s a good boy!” said Molly. “Now lie on the floor so we can powder you and put the nappy on again.”
“And next time we’ll take a photo while you’re on the potty,” added Joe, just to add to his feelings of shame. David wished the ground would swallow him up…
On the Saturday morning Jordan met Stephens at their usual place in the wood. He was slightly nervous: although he believed what Stephens had told him at the bus shelter, he still thought there was an outside chance that Stephens would beat him up, or worse. He’d thought about telling Jeremy Sadler where the tape and confession were, but in the end he had decided against it: he had, after all, promised Stephens not to tell anyone about their relationship. So he had put the cassette in his briefcase and folded the confession up inside his pencil-case and not told anyone about either of them.
But Stephens greeted him in a friendly way, and began to get undressed as soon as Jordan appeared.
“What are we going to do today?” he asked. “I mean, I know I promised to suck on it for you first, but what do you want to do after that?”
“I don’t know yet. What would you like to do?”
“Me? It’s not up to me – I mean, you’re in charge…”
“I don’t have to be. Wouldn’t you like to choose what to do?”
“Well… I’ve got sort of used to doing what you tell me. I quite like it like that, actually. But… well, I’d quite like to have another cuddle and snog with you later on, if you don’t mind. I enjoyed doing that.”
“Okay. Except… have you played with it since I took the chain off?”
“No. I mean, I wanted to, and it was really hard not to once or twice, but I didn’t. I wanted to save it up for today.”
“Good. That means there’ll be loads of that stuff to come out. I like watching that happen to you. Okay, then, you can start by sucking me, like you said you would.”
“Do you want to tie me to the tree?”
“No, we don’t need to do that any more – unless you want me to?”
Stephens hesitated. “It was sort of exciting,” he said. “But… no, perhaps I’d like to see what it’s like doing it when I’m not tied up. Get undressed, and we’ll try it.”
So Jordan stripped and Stephens sucked him steadily until he reached orgasm.
“You’re getting good at that,” Jordan told him. “Next I’m going to fuck you again, and maybe today I can make you get the feeling at the same time. We’ll just need to wait for a while until I’m ready to do it again…”
They sat and talked about school for a while: Stephens was still worrying about his Latin O level, the first paper of which was coming up the following week, and Jordan, who was not finding Latin at all easy himself, sympathised. He had to admit to himself that he was starting to like Stephens, and not just because it gave him a chance to have sex with an older boy. And an idea was starting to form in his head…
He set it to one side, got Stephens into position, got the Vaseline out and started to fuck the older boy, taking it really slowly: he was determined to make Stephens excited this time, the way it had happened to Jeremy. And fairly soon the way Stephens was wriggling about suggested that it was going to work, especially as he himself was nowhere near that stage yet.
He managed to drag it out for another two or three minutes, but then Stephens gave a gasp, and leaning sideways a bit Jordan was able to watch as the other boy ejaculated: four or five spurts of whitish liquid shot from his erection and landed on the ground underneath him.
Jordan kept moving gently until Stephens had finished.
“Was that nice?” he asked.
“It was brilliant! I don’t know how you made it happen without touching me, but it was amazing, far better than rubbing it myself.”
“Good. Now I’m going to carry on, because I want to get the feeling again. But if it hurts, or gets too uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop.”
Actually it did feel a bit strange, but Stephens wasn’t going to say so: he wanted Jordan to get as much out of this as possible. So he kept quiet until Jordan finally reached his second orgasm of the morning, thrusting hard against Stephens’s bum and gasping as he came.
He withdrew carefully, took the box of tissues from his bag and cleaned himself up, handing a couple to Stephens so that he could wipe himself.
“Let’s get dressed and go for a walk,” he said, once he was clean.
“Aren’t we going to cuddle?” asked Stephens.
“Later – I feel a bit sort of drained right now. Let’s just walk for a bit.”
So they did that, following the path on into the woods. Neither of them had actually been beyond their normal meeting place before, so they were able to explore some new territory, and after a bit they left the path and went off into the trees to see what they could find. Maybe a couple of hundred yards away from the path they found a stream and followed it upstream for a bit until they found a nice spot surrounded by trees and bushes, and here they got undressed and lay down face to face, as they had the previous week. They practised kissing for a minute or so and then just relaxed, and Jordan found that he was almost falling asleep: it felt nice just being held in Stephens’s arms. He decided that he and Jeremy would definitely have to try this… maybe he could invite Jeremy over for the weekend, and they could come here and undress…
“You know, Stephens… Nigel…. you’re really going to have to find a boyfriend,” he said. “I mean, I like doing this stuff with you, but it would be better if you could find someone nearer to your own age.”
“I suppose that’s true – but I like doing this with you, Jordan. And I’ve already told you I’d be far too scared to talk to anyone else about it, even if I thought they were really nice-looking. I’d be sure they’d just tell me to get lost and then spread it all over the school. Even if Nils went to our school I’d never dare to actually talk to him.”
“So, is Nils your perfect boy, then?”
“Well… yes, I suppose so. He looks so good naked – and I love the way his first hairs are showing, and how nice and big he looks… you know. And he’s so good-looking, too.”
“And he doesn’t wear glasses,” added Jordan.
“Hey, I don’t care about you wearing glasses – you look nice in them, actually. In fact, when you’re completely naked except for your glasses you look better than you do when you take them off. I don’t know why… but you do, somehow.”
“That’s just because you’re used to me wearing them. When I first started wearing glasses a couple of years ago, everyone said I looked funny with them on; now the same people think I look funny with them off. But… look, Nigel: what would you say if I told you I thought I could find a boyfriend for you? He’s thirteen – or maybe fourteen, though I think he said he was still thirteen last time I spoke to him. He’s in the third year, and he’s got straight light brown hair, about the same colour as mine, and green eyes, and his cock looks almost exactly the same as Nils’s… and he likes boys, too. And if you want I can introduce you to him. What do you think?”
“Are you sure he likes boys? I mean, how do you know?”
“Because he got into trouble for it last term. And he and I have been doing…. well, stuff, together for a bit now. He’s a nice boy, Nigel. And I’m sure we can trust him.”
“Would that mean we wouldn’t see each other any more?”
“Of course not. I mean, I’ve got to be around to put your chain back on, haven’t I? And maybe we could both do stuff to you at the same time sometimes. We do that to another kid at school, and it’s brilliant fun.”
“Oh, okay, then. As long as we’re still going to be friends… I mean, we are friends, aren’t we, sort of?”
“Yes, I think so. And that’s why I want to get you and him together, because I like you and I’d like you to have a boyfriend. Of course, you’d have to let me come and watch you having sex sometimes…”
“I wouldn’t mind that.”
“Good. Then I’ll see if he can come and play with us next weekend.”
Once again David survived Sunday. After the previous day, Sunday was far easier to cope with: Joe left him alone in the morning, Molly didn’t invite any friends round, and he was allowed to wear the cut-off jeans, which had been washed overnight, instead of the diaper. The only bad thing was that Joe and Molly forced him to use the potty when he wanted to use the toilet, and both of them stood and stared at him while he was doing it. But by spending the afternoon with his book in the garden he was able to avoid them, and this time he had no compunction about peeing into the hedge when he needed to go.
But Monday was a different matter. At the start of break he reported to Osterley, as he had been ordered to do, and Osterley told him to meet him at the beginning of the lunch break outside the music block. He was there at the start of the lunch break, and Osterley led him into one of the soundproofed practice rooms. David was dismayed to find that they were not alone: already in the room were four first-year boys: Sherwood and McMillan; and Lithgow and Downing, who were the boys whom he had coerced into getting Osterley into trouble in the first place. Also there was another boy David recognised vaguely, though he didn’t know his name.
Osterley wedged a chair under the door handle to prevent anyone else getting in and sat on the table.
“I think you know Lithgow and Downing,” he said to David. “They weren’t happy about what you made them do to me, so they’re going to help me get you back. And Sherwood and McMillan are here because you tried to stitch them up, too. Yes, I know they’ve already dealt with you themselves, but I wanted an audience, and I thought they’d be happy to help. And this is my friend Little Collins. Okay, so now you know everyone. Now get undressed.”
David knew there was no point in arguing, and at least this was a lot more private that his public exhibition at the assault course had been, so he stripped off, piling his clothes on a chair. He managed to force himself not to hold his hands in front of his genitals, too, because he knew it would be pointless.
The four first-years had seen him naked before: Downing and Lithgow had been at the assault course the previous Monday – but of course Osterley and Little Collins hadn’t, and they both started laughing.
“Bloody hell, Bertie,” Osterley managed to gasp, “he’s even smaller than you! We’ll have to call him “Little Ratty”, or something.”
“Just get on with it,” said David. “What are you going to do now – beat me, I suppose?”
“Well, obviously, but not just yet. So, what was it you were going to do to me this term? Can you remember what he said, Bertie?''
“He was going to make you wear a girl’s uniform all term long, with no knickers,” said Little Collins.
“That’s what I thought he said. Well, good news, Ratty, I’ve brought along a uniform for you. Try it on.”
He thrust a girl’s school uniform at David, who blanched.
“Oh, come on, Osterley,” he said, “I wasn’t really going to do that to you. You just made me angry that day, that’s all: I was just trying to scare you.”
“Well, I’m going to do it to you. Now get it on, unless you want us to drag you out into the yard stark naked.”
Reluctantly David put on the blouse, the skirt and the ankle socks. The only good thing about this uniform was that the skirt, though still short in the usual Seventies fashion, was at least a bit longer than the dress Osterley had been forced to wear himself the previous term. But with no knickers on David still felt horribly vulnerable.
“Very sweet,” commented Osterley. “Okay, so you’ll be spending a while in each of the first and second year form rooms dressed like that – I’ll let you have a rota later on. I’d make you keep it on all day, but I think some of the masters might raise objections. It’s a pity – I’d love to think of you having to travel to and from school dressed like that…”
“I think you can still make him do that,” said Sherwood. “One of my closest friends lives in his house, and I’m sure we can fix it so that Rat has to travel to and from school dressed like that.”
“Brilliant!” said Osterley, at the same moment as David cried “No!!!”
“I’ll talk to Tim tonight,” said Sherwood. “We’ll force Rat to come to school dressed like that, and let him get changed just before registration. And at the end of lessons he’ll have to come here and turn himself into a girl again – and we’ll keep all his boy’s clothes so he can’t cheat and get changed outside school.”
“That’s a brilliant plan,” approved Osterley. “And he’ll have to come here at the start of every break to put his girl’s clothes on so that he can visit the first and second year form rooms. And when he’s actually in lessons he can wear his boy’s shirt and blazer, but no pants, long socks, and these,” and he thrust at David the shorts he had been forced to wear himself the previous term. David took them with a trembling hand.
“Please, Osterley,” he said, in a small voice. “I’m sorry about getting you into trouble last term… don’t make me do this!”
“I bet you are sorry, but it’s far too late now. Let’s see how you like it. Now, as you suggested, we’re also going to beat you. Blackman has kindly lent me his cane, which is the one that got used on me. It seems only fair to use the same one. Now, I got six when I was innocent, so you should get double that, plus interest… let’s see, there are six of us – let’s say we give you three each, every day until half term. How does that sound?”
David shook his head and tried to back away, but he hit the wall and couldn’t go any further. “Please,” he begged. “I couldn’t take that – nobody could!”
“You were there the second time they turned me over in the rifle range,” Osterley pointed out. “I survived that – let’s see if you do. But… you might remember that Garrett gave me a way to get out of some of my caning. Can you remember what it was?”
“Oh, no!” said David. “No, Osterley, I’m not doing that – it’s disgusting! I’d sooner be caned!”
“Please yourself. Bend over the table, then – oh, you’d better strip first: we don’t want blood on the uniform.”
“What’s he talking about, Ian?” asked Little Collins.
“You’ll see,” said Osterley, taking some string from his pocket and tying David down over the table. “So, who wants to go first?”
There was a predictable rush, which Osterley resolved by lining everyone up in alphabetical order of surname. That left Little Collins at the front of the queue, and he picked up the cane, swished it a couple of times and then hit David’s buttocks as hard as he could. David screamed and convulsed: this hurt even more than the riding crop had done. Little Collins did it again, and David shrieked and jerked about so much that the table seemed in danger of falling over, so Osterley leaned on it, his hands on either side of David’s shoulders, while Little Collins lined up his third blow and delivered it, right on top of the line left from his first. David howled again and began to jabber uncontrollably.
“Make him stop!” he gasped. “Please! I’ll do it, I swear, just make it stop!”
“But the rest of us haven’t had our turn yet,” said Osterley, in a reasonable voice. “Go on, Downing, it’s your turn.”
Downing delivered three nicely-spaced blows, and at the end of this David would have sold his soul to the devil to make the pain go away, so when Osterley asked if he was prepared to accept the alternative, David yelled ‘Yes!’ as loudly as he could. It was a good thing the room was soundproofed, Osterley thought, as otherwise he was sure David’s screams and shouts could have been heard in Cardiff. Or maybe New York.
“Well, if you’re sure,” he said, and he cut the string holding David to the table and then unbuckled his belt. David fell onto the floor clutching his bum and rolling about in pain, and Osterley lowered his trousers and pants, sat on one of the chairs and told David to get on with it. David shuffled forwards until he was kneeling just in front of Osterley, his eyes on a level with the third-former’s quivering erection.
“Please,” he whispered, “don’t make me do that!”
“Just think yourself lucky I’m not as big or mature as Garrett,” Osterley told him. “Believe me, when he got excited I thought I was going to drown in it. You’re going to have it easy. Now get on with it.”
“But I don’t know how.”
“Neither did I, but I soon picked it up. So will you. Now start, or we’ll have to whip you again.”
With a sob, David shuffled forward until his lips were right next to Osterley’s foreskin. It smelled faintly of pee, and David’s stomach lurched: he was sure he wouldn’t be able to do this.
“What’s he doing?” asked Little Collins.
“He’s going to suck my cock.”
“Because it feels amazing. You’ll find out when it’s your turn.”
“Oh! Okay, then… hang on, Ian – are you saying that Garrett made you do this to him? You never told me…”
“Of course I didn’t. It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had to do, and I thought… well, if anyone knew I’d… you know…. sucked a cock, they’d never want to talk to me again.”
“Don’t be stupid, Ian! I know it wasn’t your fault, and that you couldn’t do anything about it. You’re my friend, and whatever they made you do isn’t going to change that.”
“Okay. Sorry. But… you can understand why I didn’t want to talk about it, can’t you?”
“Of course I can, but it wouldn’t have stopped us being friends if you had.”
“Good. Okay, Rat, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!”
Somehow David forced himself to let the disgusting thing slip into his mouth. He tried to stop when it was only an inch or so in, but Osterley grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward, and the whole four and a bit inches slid inside. The tip hit the back of David’s throat and made him gag, and he was able to force his head back far enough to solve that problem.
“That’s the idea,” Osterley told him. “Slide it in and out, keep your lips closed tightly and your teeth out of the way – yes, but squeeze more – good. Now start licking it hard – no, properly, Rat, unless you want to be whipped. No, you can get more of it in than that,” and he pulled David’s head forward once more, making David choke again.
The torture went on, Osterley’s hard penis sliding into and out of his mouth, occasionally hitting the back of his throat and making him feel he was going to throw up, while the five juniors crowded round, staring at him and making filthy comments. Tears were rolling down his cheeks by now, and he thought this was what hell must be like, being forced to do something disgusting like this in front of an audience.
Finally Osterley convulsed and ejaculated, and his spunk hit the back of David’s throat, making him cough and splutter. But Osterley wouldn’t let him take the throbbing penis out of his mouth until it was all over.
Finally it was removed, and David crawled over to the waste paper bin next to the piano and spat and spat into it, though he was sure some of it had gone down his throat. His stomach heaved at the thought of it, but somehow he managed not to vomit. Finally he looked up, blinked away the tears, and saw Osterley doing up his belt.
“You know what, Rat?” he said. “That’s the first time I’ve ever been glad I met you. That was fucking fantastic! You can bet you’re going to be doing that pretty much every day. Okay, who wants to go next?”
This time there was a bit of hesitation, but after a couple of seconds Sherwood undid his shorts.
“Come on, then, Rat,” he said, “show me what’s so special, then.”
Sobbing, David crawled back to the chair and knelt in front of the grinning first-year boy. His penis was shorter than Osterley’s, probably less than three inches long, though it was quite thick, and it looked different because there was no foreskin. But he wasn’t given a chance to examine it for more than a couple of seconds before Sherwood grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him forwards.
“Open wide!” he said, and dragged David against him. David opened his mouth and in it went, and soon he was being forced to repeat what he had done for Osterley. The two plus points this time were that Sherwood’s wasn’t quite long enough to hit the back of his throat, and that when the junior reached his climax, which didn’t take very long, nothing came out. But David still felt dirty and used, and when Sherwood pushed him away, pulled his shorts back up and announced that Osterley was right, that was an incredible sensation, David knew his life was about to get even worse: it was an absolute certainty that Sherwood would tell Tim Devlin about this, and then the Devlin boys would want to try it for themselves…
McMillan took Sherwood’s place on the chair, flourishing his long, thin, pale erection in David’s face, and David forced himself to open his mouth. He could see no end to the nightmare now: even if he survived to the end of Osterley’s period in charge of him – and he didn’t think he could, given the treatment he could expect from Pope and his gang – he would still have to face being forced to do this, and the other thing, for the Devlins. And that situation seemed likely to go on forever…
Given the number of enemies David has amassed, about the only good thing that has come out of this latest humiliation is that at least he'll now be able to allow them to apply retribution to him two at a time...
In the next chapter we'll see the Rat's machinations return full circle as he takes Osterley's place as the plaything of Pope and his fellow junior school tormentors. And things won't be getting any better outside school, either...
One thing that remains the same in every chapter is the following link: firstname.lastname@example.org – and there's a good reason for that: I like getting mail. Of course, if I'm actually going to get any mail I need my readers to make use of the address...
Copyright 2009: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.