[Author's Note: The following story follows in sequence the story titled "Brentwood School for Wayward Boys – the Barber's Perspective." It forms part three in the series. In this story I discuss the breaking of the wayward teen, the moment where he realizes all hope is lost and gives in to the discipline and the rules of the school. This tale will stand in its own right, but it's best read in conjunction with the other two stories that preceded it. This is adult entertainment and is not to be posted where it will be read by minors.]
Brentwood School for Wayward Boys – The Wristband Dilemma
Cliff Klausner stared at the clock on the opposite side of the room. It was three o'clock in the morning, and he couldn't sleep. For one thing his ass was hot, burning, the feeling still with him from his three paddlings of the day. The first one was in math class, and the second, and the third, in gym. GYM. Yeah....two paddlings there one after the other. _s_h_i_t_ it had hurt! Yeah, talking back to the teachers just wasnt a smart thing to do, and even as defiant a lad as Cliff was he was figuring that out.
Next to the clock was his locker, and he could see the outline of his school blazer. The crest was visible in the dim light, and it glistened with the motto of the school. He couldn't make it out in the darkness, but he knew it was waiting for him, pressed and ready, the sharp blazer making him look oh-so-perfect whenever he had to put it on.
His bottom was hurting, and as his mind turned to it he thought about the blisterings he had received. God...it was almost like he got spanked everyday. Even that first day they had burned his ass, and he could never forget that haircut session with the sadistic barber. God he hated this place. Still, he wouldn't give in to them....no, he had his pride and he wasn't going to roll over and be a 'yes sir' man. No. Not him.
Still, he hated the spankings. As he thought about them and the way they would swing that paddle, he felt the burn in his ass and it made him even madder. Why had his parents sent him here? Why? Still, every time they gave him the "warning" as they called it, it made his skin crawl. Yeah, it was hard to fight them when they had that paddle. It was always the same too. They gave you the little warning....the "formal warning" as they called it. Then, if you ignored that, came the paddling. As he thought about that it occurred to him that they never threatened in the school. They warned you and then they paddled you. Always. _s_h_i_t_...and when they did they didn't hold anything back either. The paddle was always swung hard, and it was meant to hurt, even when it was done over your clothing. Yeah....and always the same too...always seven smacks for the first warning, no matter what. It hurt like _s_h_i_t_.
Twice now Cliff had pushed the point, past that even, and the next paddling was on the bear ass, with his pants around his knees. God...they didn't let up, and once that paddle was sailing into his naked ass there was no reprieve. Fifteen hits with the board, one of each year of his age, and the tears just came; the others kids usually laughed as it was happening and that made it a hundred times worse. God. He shuddered thinking about it, shuddered as he remembered it. Today it had been especially embarrassing, as he had popped a bone when it was happening. And of course all the other boys had watched, watched as he screamed and cried and begged even as his boner bobbed up and down. And God they had all laughed.
_f_u_c_k_. They were all so well behaved it made him sick!
Well, as he listened to the five other boys sharing his room he could hear them breathing....quietly, the gently rhythm of their sleep almost as if they hadn't a care in the world. He could make out the dim outline of the three bunks, and the built in drawers on the opposite side of the room. The room was neat and tidy, and except for making the beds it was ready for the morning inspection.
Usually the guys just went right to sleep, like 'good little boys' and it made him want to puke. God. Tonight as he had listened though Richie McCanters had made little noises about midnight...working his meat as he had pumped his _c_o_c_k_. Still, he was one of the goodie boys as Cliff thought of him...always being oh-so-perfect it made him sick.
Richie had jerked himself off that much was for sure, just pumped his meat as he had laid in bed. It hadn't taken him long, and then he had grunted quietly as he had squirted out his load. The room was too dark to see any of it, and the other guys had slept right through it. Not Cliff though. He had listened to all of it, the creak-creak-creak of the springs and the little gasp as the boy had started to cum. A few minutes later he had smelled the semen, and listened as the boy had wiped himself with his underwear. No, there wasnt any doubt what had happened.
God....Cliff hadn't jacked off since he had left home and that was more than a week ago! That was something hard to believe, because he loved jerking his pole. As he had that thought, and pictured Richie doing what guys do, he pictured the red headed boy stroking his _c_o_c_k_. He had seen him in the gym, and the boy had a big _c_o_c_k_, with a huge knob and bright red pubic hair. As he thought of the red headed teenager and imagined his root stiff and hard and jutting out from his mound of red pubes it made his own dick grow stiff. Well, _f_u_c_k_.
He was laying on his back, and it was a simple matter to drop his hand to his crotch. Slowly, and quietly, he slipped the waistband of his underwear down to mid-thigh. Then, he moved his hand up, and felt his bald mound where the barber had shaved it bare just a few days before. God...there was a little stubble there, but not much, and it itched like _s_h_i_t_ now. He stared at the bunk above him. He could just make it out in the dim light of the room. He was in the corner of the room, and in the darkness he slid his hand away from his smooth skin and took his own prick in his hand.
He hesitated. He hadn't jacked off since he had arrived in the school....just been way too busy and too sore if the truth be known. His mentor had warned him not to as well, but hell, everyone was sleeping and he sure felt the need. With the red headed boy in his thoughts he slowly squeezed his _c_o_c_k_ and his prick stiffened. He needed it....and he felt his _c_o_c_k_ and as he started to slide his skin up and down it felt wonderful. What-the-hell.
Still, he felt the bracelet around his right hand, and it was blue, and barely visible in the darkness. As he looked at it, he remembered the words from the Dean of Student Affairs, Dr Benjamin Martin, when he had spoke with him and his parents on that first day of indoctrination.
"....At Brentwood your son will be fitted with two bracelets, one on each wrist. They are used to track him, and we have electronic sensors throughout the school that can monitor literally what his hands are doing. I can go to the computer at anytime and find the location of any student on this campus. One of the things that has made your son so defiant is his control. Like a lot of wayward teens, he likes to be in control, doing what he wants, when he wants....."
Cliff smiled. Control. Yeah...it was a control war in a way...they had the paddle and he had his attitude. Well, he'd fight them, sure as _s_h_i_t_ he would, and while he might pretend to give in he wasnt gonna be a pansy. Not like these other jerks in the school...all dressed up oh-so-perfect and so well behaved it made you sick. Yeah, this school was bull_s_h_i_t_. Yeah....still, they had put the bracelets on him that first day and there was no way to take them off. His mentor, Joe Krause, had told him to watch his hands. God. It had to be some kind of a game, yeah, another head game, he wasn't gonna buy into it.
Well, the room was quiet, and it was the middle of the night. And he was horny as hell. As he contemplated that he kept sliding his right fist over his _c_o_c_k_....sliding it up and down and then up and down again and again. God...it felt sooooo _f_u_c_k_ing good and it had been days since he had really touched himself. He was fifteen for God's sake, and at fifteen a guy's just gotta touch his _c_o_c_k_ from time to time.
Quietly, he continued the stroking....working his fist up and down...feeling his teenage erection and the pressure in his nuts. Oh GOD....OH....OH YEAH it felt so _f_u_c_k_ing good. As he was stroking himself, he again thought back to that first day, when Dr Martin had looked him in the eye and said to his father: "...We control every aspect of their lives here, and it's that loss of control that opens the door so the learning process can take place.....Your son won't even masturbate unless we let him."
Yeah, right. Well, Richie had sure jerked off, and he wore the bands just like everyone else. Well, now he was doing it too. He began to stroke faster then....pumping his fist over his _c_o_c_k_....faster and faster he moved his arm and pumped his _c_o_c_k_. Oh GOD....he was getting close....very close.... It felt so _f_u_c_k_ing good!
Suddenly, the speaker in the room crackled, and then the words cut into the darkness. "MR KLAUSNER, THIS IS A FORMAL WARNING. YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO MASTURBATE, AND YOU WILL CEASE DOING SO IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT TOUCH YOUR PENIS AGAIN."
His right arm froze. GOD....it was Dr Martin's voice, over the room's _d_a_m_n_ loudspeaker! _s_h_i_t_! The loudspeaker had cut the quietness of the room and his face flushed bright red. Of course, instantly, everyone was awake now....there was no way anyone could sleep through that! William McDonald, in the bunk above him, confirmed it: "_s_h_i_t_ Cliff.....don't beat your meat dude. Are you that stupid? You don't have privileges man."
Joe Krause, in the bunk next to him called out in the darkness. "Yeah man...I told you....watch your hands. You aren't allowed to jack off here unless you have permission. And you don't yet. You have to earn that right dude."
Cliff stared.....his face flushed red...even in the dark. He felt so humiliated. GOD....oh GOD. His dick was bouncing to his heartbeat, the end beaded up with a drop of semen...the single drop of his fluid catching the dim light and glistening on the end of his prick. His balls ached.....ACHED now, and his _c_o_c_k_ twitched. GOD....the need....he couldn't stop now! He was right on the verge....at that cliff between pleasure and ecstasy....between heaven and earth. GOD he wanted to squirt! He needed to! But _s_h_i_t_....how did they know. HOW?
He dropped his head back to his pillow in total frustration, his _c_o_c_k_ twitching up and down, right on the verge and yet not quite THERE. He wanted to cry....and he stared at the bunk above him and for a minute he did nothing. Perhaps the fast motion of his wrist had somehow been monitored? Had he been making noise? He was hidden in the shadows, so they couldn't be watching him. Still...his prick twitched.....and the feeling didn't recede. The frustration screamed in his brain and it was almost like his balls were throbbing. No! Slowly......very slowly.....he let his right fist slide down his _c_o_c_k_ from the tip to the base. Then he brought it back up...again very very very slowly, and began to just wiggle his thumb and slide it over the head of his dick. He felt the slipperiness of his precum on the head of his dick, and he rubbed it in with his thumb and worked the very tip of his pole. Perhaps that might work! Just a couple of slow strokes with just his thumb would be all he needed.
Suddenly, the door to the room banged open, and the light went on. Cliff bolted straight upright in his bed...jerking the covers up to cover himself. Then, he started to scramble to get away but they were on him in an instant.
The two huge men reached out and grabbed him, and everyone in the room sat up to watch. Suddenly, he was being dragged out of the bed, with his pants still down below his crotch where he had lowered them. His boner bounced and waved as they dragged him over to the paddling bench, a part of the room décor like it was in every room in the school.
"NO! OH NO....HEY...PLE..PLEASE MAN...PLEASEEEEEEEEE!"
"You were told not to masturbate Mr Klausner........you sure don't listen! Whenever you ignore a formal warning you know you get paddled. So prepare yourself. You asked for it so it should not be a surprise."
They had him strapped down to the bench in less than a minute, and then they pulled his boxer shorts UP...covering his ass. Even so his dick was so _d_a_m_n_ stiff, and now with the lights on everyone could see his boner jutting downward in his shorts, tenting out his underwear like some teenage porn star. God! Still, they had him in the spanking position, with the thin cotton of his underwear covering his ass. As they hooked up the restraints to his wrists and ankles he struggled with all he had. He fought them, and yelled and begged, but it was all hopeless and then, strapped in position, with nothing but his underwear for protection, he looked back and everyone was staring at him. He was begging, begging for mercy, but even as he did so he saw the big paddle as the man raised it high in the air and began the first of the seven swings.
"NO...NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" he screamed.
SWISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"
"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!" Cliff screamed, the pain burning through his already sore ass like nothing on earth. He bucked his hips, and struggled, smashing his boner into the punishment table. It was hopeless! He already knew that there was no escape but he wasnt sure he could take another paddling. His ass was already so _d_a_m_n_ sore, and even though it was covered with the thin cotton of his drawers it was so sore it didn't feel like anything was between him and the paddle.
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
The second stroke was even harder, and he grunted and screamed and begged. He kicked his feet but the straps around his ankles held firm, and all he could do was buck his hips up and down and up and down. Still, his ass was on display, perched up and helpless that way, almost as if it was eager even. It was oh-so-vulnerable to the burn of the paddle, and even with his underpants on it burned like hell!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!
OH GOD. Again and again...as his roommates watched, he was paddled for his unauthorized attempt at masturbation. GOD....you had to have PERMISSION! For THAT? He struggled, fought....begged but it did no good. One after the other the blows came and blistered his ass, until finally, it was done.
He was crying like a baby then, and as he balled and the tears flowed they unstrapped him and jerked him upright, spinning him around in the middle of the room so that everyone was watching him. He sucked in his snot, and tried to go towards his bed but the two men held him there, in the middle of the room.
Suddenly, in walked Dr Martin, and he looked all business. You would never have known it was the middle of the night. The two men holding him nodded to him, and the man looked at Cliff and then he smiled. Then he said: "So, Mr. Klausner, you want to masturbate do you? You don't have privacy privileges yet. Do you enjoy breaking the rules?"
Cliff shook his head. "I'm....Im sorry sir.....it won't...won't happen again." he mumbled. Anything to get through this and get it behind him. Everyone in the room was staring at him, and most of his roommates were snickering.
Dr Martin raised his voice: "MR, YOU HAVE BEEN CAUSING PROBLEMS SINCE THE DAY YOU ARRIVED HERE AT BRENTWOOD. I SUGGEST YOU CHANGE YOUR ATTITUDE AND LEARN FROM YOUR ROOMATES. IF YOU BEHAVE YOURSELF FOR TWO WEEKS YOU WILL BE GIVEN PRIVACY PRILIDGES AND WOULD BE ELIGIBLE FOR INTERMURALS. THEN YOU CAN HAVE SOME FUN AND PEHAPS EVEN ENJOY THIS INSTITUTION. AND WITH PRILIDGES YOU CAN MASTURBATE ALL YOU WANT FOR ALL I CARE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
He stared. GOD. OH GOD. His prick bounced within his pants...the end drooling now....a spot from his precum dripping from the end and staining his shorts in a circle of wetness. Everyone in the room was wide awake, staring at him, and at the bulge in his underwear, his erection jutting upward, stiff, eager, bouncing to his heartbeat and outlined in his pants. Everyone was watching him. He could have died. Slowly, he nodded that he understood.
Dr Martin stared at the teenager, his eyes falling on the outline of the boy's stiff prick. Then he asked, his voice almost in a whisper: "Are you horny Mr. Klausner?"
Cliff was crying....the tears running down his face as he stood there on display. He nodded his head up and down in shame.....I mean, everyone was looking at him and it was obvious he was hard. It was the single most embarrassing moment in his life. One of the guys in the room said what everyone was thinking: "God he's hard." Then it seemed the entire room snickered.
Cliff looked down in humiliation and his face blushed crimson. All he could do was hope that this would end and he could go back to his bed and bury himself under his covers. Dr Martin said, almost to emphasize a point, "Mr Klausner, you haven't earned the right to privacy. You have to earn that. You have to play by the rules and behave yourself. Privacy is a privilege and it's worth working hard to get it. Just ask your roommates, and they will tell you. This is a great school Klausner, if you'll live by the rules. You got that Mister?"
Cliff nodded. Then, knowing he was getting to the teenager, Dr Martin said "Well, ok then. You haven't earned privacy privileges, but I'll show you some mercy tonight." Then, in a very matter-of-fact voice, he added: "Well, go ahead then...you have my permission. Start now....drop your pants and masturbate yourself. I'll let you relieve your frustration."
Nobody moved....and you could have heard a pin drop. The room was dead quiet, and Cliff could hear his own heartbeat. He stared at the bulge in his pants, where his dick was...jutting up....the end still drooling and the wet spot growing to the size of a silver dollar. He looked across the room, and all of the guys were staring back at him...grinning now, staring at his prick tenting out his pants, waiting for him to pull down his shorts and begin to pump himself. There was no WAY he could do that.
He mumbled: "No....no sir....that's ok sir....I.....I don't...don't want to do that."
Dr Martin looked at him, and smiled. He knew he had the boy scared, and he took the opportunity to break him. Then he said: "I'm not asking you young man....I'm TELLING you. Even though you don't have privacy privileges you woke all of us up so you could play with your _c_o_c_k_...so now that we're awake and watching you might as well do it. NOW. This is your formal warning, so get it going young man."
Clifford panicked then. It was too much...the humiliation too great. He spun around, heading for the door on a dead run, and as he did he muttered "_f_u_c_k_ YOU". The guys in the room gasped, and the two burly men reached out for him as he made his move. Still, he almost made it to the door, almost, but before he had time to contemplate anything they had him and were dragging him back to the punishment table.
God he fought them then. Still, even as he cussed and struggled and then begged, they strapped him back in place. This time, they pulled his underpants down...all the way down...to his ankles. He was kicking hard, and his right leg kicked free of his underwear, leaving the pair just on his left ankle. God he was exposed! His naked ass bobbed up and down, as he fought the restraints. He had been here before of course....facing the paddle with his bare ass, and he was screaming in panic as it was about to happen again.
Dr Benjamin Martin said very matter-of-factly "You are one stubborn teenager Klausner. Your parents were right. Still, I have faith in you, and I'm not going to give up on you. I think eventually you will learn. You will learn or I'll break you. You got that? I'll break you. You just need to follow the rules here and you will be able to enjoy yourself." Then he turned to the disciplinarians and said, strap his legs apart this time, and let the lad really feel what a paddle can do. Perhaps that will help him get the message."
The two men grinned, and pulled the youths legs apart, strapping them to the sides of the table legs instead of on the front where they normally were placed. They also added two additional restraints around his knees, pulling them apart and exposing the inner reaches of his ass. Everything was on display now....dick, balls, and hole, and the boy felt the air there and the eyes staring at him.
The boy's bottom was already flame red, but now there were areas of whiteness that had not been previously touched, and the inner crack was now exposed and waiting like it had never been before. The boy sensed it, sensed the openness of his new position, and the total vulnerability of his exposed bottom. He started to beg like a scared teen.
"No..OH GOD..NO!!!! NO!!!! PLEASE......PLEASE DON'T HIT ME LIKE THI...."
The paddle cut off his sentence, and the crack echoed off the walls.
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
The boy screamed from the impact like there would be no tomorrow. The scream cut through the room, harsh, and loud, a panicked scream as the big piece of wood slammed into the boy's perched up and very naked buttocks. His naked ass took the full brunt of the blow, and the impact was so intense he was almost shocked from the burn.
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
Again, it slammed into the boy's teenage ass. He screamed "YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" and then "OK..OK...OH GOD...OK. I GIVE...I GIVE!!!!!!"
The paddle was being laid on top to bottom, and the man swinging it was making sure that he worked one cheek and then the next. From the angle he was standing he was smashing it right into the boy's crack, blistering the sensitive flesh there. The boy's begging was a useless gesture and soon had turned into a babble. It didn't matter, the paddle didn't care and there was no stopping it until it was done. After that the paddle just began to rip into his naked bottom with a vengeance, and all he could do was babble and beg and scream as it was happening. There was no mercy...none.....no mercy at all from the man who was swinging the paddle. Again and again and again....one after another....stroke after stroke the paddle was painted across his bare bottom.
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" the youth screamed!
That time the blow was done vertically, and was so hard that with the boy's legs spread wide the force of the impact reached his puckered hole. He was thrusting into the table, struggling like a madman, panicked as the big board assaulted his ass. His inner thighs started to turn cherry red, matching the rest of his bottom, and he bucked and screamed and begged with total, panicked desperation. Still, the paddle struck into him again and again and again.
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!
That blow was an upper cut, right under the boy's cheeks, lifting up on them and smashing into his bottom without any mercy. The boy screamed again, and then again, and as he tried to dodge the blows he bounced his ass up and down, thrusting into the punishment table almost as if he was humping it. His legs were tied wide apart, and the guys in the room could see his balls, hanging down, and with each impact of the board they swung forward and then back. He bucked his hips in a panic, but no matter what he did or how loud he yelled he couldn't escape the burn from the board.
OH GOD! OH GODDDDDDDDDDDD!
"YEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" he screamed again....oh man oh man oh man.
Still, it continued. One after the other, until all fifteen strokes had been planted squarely into his bottom and his entire crack glowed hot and red. The two sensitive mounds where his bottom and his legs came together, the 'sit spot', seemed even to be blistered, almost like they had been placed on a hot griddle. They looked burned! His ass was really RED now, bright red...flame red and literally on fire. Even his hole seemed puckered and red. The heat seared across his bottom, and his eyes were wide with the intensity of the feeling.
He could hardly believe it had happened again....one more time because he had refused to play the game. Sometime during those fifteen strokes he gave in to them.....the fight and his spirit broken by the paddle that ripped into his being. He couldn't fight it any longer...couldn't fight all of them, and it was just too much. His panic gave way to tears of desperation...and then in great sobbing heaves he cried his heart out, feeling the pain in his ass as it consumed his being. This time it had just been too much. For the boy it was over.....his defiance stolen by the paddle and the rules and the school. In that instant he was broken....the defiant spirit that had taken over the teenager was missing after that, stolen by the wristbands and the paddle and the school that used them.
Finally it was over, and they unstrapped him and pulled him upright, and there he stood with his roommates all staring back at him. His lower lip quivered, and he bit it as he tried to stop the crying. His underpants had come off and were in a pile on the floor, and so he stood there naked then, his missing pubes making him look like a ten year old. He reached back and rubbed his bottom, and he started jumping up and down then as if that could cool it off. Of course, the heat was so intense that it made no difference, although his dick flopped up and down as he bounced. God!
Cliff looked over at Dr Martin, his eyes pleading for a reprieve even as he jumped up and down like a jackrabbit. He hopped for more than a minute, and as he did the other boys in the room grinned. Finally, with everyone in the room staring at him, the boy stopped jumping and after that he just stared at the floor, his face so red in shame it matched his ass. The tears covered his face, adding to the image and his humiliation.
Dr Martin waited, with the smile on his face, until finally the boy had quieted down and seemed to regain some of his control. Then, slowly, to make a point, Dr Martin said to him: "OK Cliff.....let's get it done. Let me see your right hand."
Cliff stood, and stared. Slowly, he brought his right hand out, and opened his palm, showing it to the dean. As he held it out, Dr. Martin took a small bottle of baby oil, and squirted out a tiny puddle into the palm of the boy's hand. He had brought it with him, just for this purpose, and had heated it in the microwave in anticipation. The liquid was clear, and was very warm, and it literally glistened in the light of the room. Then, slowly, Dr Martin said "You don't have privacy privileges, so its time for you to show your friends how you masturbate. Unless of course you would rather have your ass blistered again?"
The fight was gone from him. The threat of the paddle was too much, and there was no way in the world he could take another session strapped to the punishment table. He was totally defeated. He slowly lowered his right hand, filled with the hot baby oil, and wrapped it around his _c_o_c_k_ as everyone watched. As he did so he gasped. His _c_o_c_k_ had grown soft during his bare-bottomed spanking, and yet that started to change almost instantly as soon as he grabbed it. The hot oil made sure of that. He had given up. He was so humiliated beyond any measure that his face was as red as his ass. Even so, with his ass on fire and glowing cherry red, he began to work his fist back and forth on his _c_o_c_k_, _f_u_c_k_ing it, working the oil along his shaft until his entire pole shined.
He had never felt hot oil on his _c_o_c_k_, and it felt so good he could hardly believe it. His fist slid over his dick, and as it did so his _c_o_c_k_ grew as hard as an iron bar....in spite of the burn and the fire in his ass. He pumped his _c_o_c_k_ then as everyone watched....just doing it mechanically, just working his fist like a lubricated piston to get it done and to do as he was told.
Dr. Martin decided to add to the boy's humiliation. He said "Faster Cliff....let's get it done. The rest of the students here need their sleep and I don't need you taking all night."
The teenager did as he was told, and increased the pace of his stroking. Faster and faster he pumped his glistening _c_o_c_k_....his face bright red as he beat his meat and _f_u_c_k_ed his oiled fist. Then, in just a couple of minutes, he threw his head back and then gasped as he began to squirt out his wad. His semen flew out of his dick...splashing across the floor, his lines of semen squirting out of his dick like pieces of white rope. The first shot went almost three feet, intense and powerful as only a teenager can do. It felt good, incredibly good as he grunted it out. Still, the pain in his bottom was intense and it stole much of his pleasure. Nevertheless, he came and came and came, squirting out his huge wad, pumping out his goo as everyone watched in amazement. A few giggled, and even Dr Martin smiled as the teenager pumped his oiled meat and squirted his wad like some young porn star.
Finally, his balls were empty. The boy was spent, and his face was flushed like it is on a teenager who has just shot his wad. Dr Martin turned then, to leave, and then he said over his shoulder: "Clean up your mess Klausner, and then get some sleep. And remember, two weeks. Two weeks Mr Klaunser....just do as your told and behave yourself for two weeks and you can jack off in private all you want. In this school privacy is a privilege, and you earn it. If you won't play the game then get used to a sore bottom and a lot of pent up frustration. Unless of course you like being watched while you beat your meat."
With that, Dr Martin and the two school disciplinarians exited the room and left the young man standing, his slick dick in hand, his wad on the tile floor and all the rest of the room staring with open mouths at the boy with the bright red ass and the face to match. It was a major turning point, and it was the end of the beginning for Clifford Klausner.
Postscipt
Four months had passed in a blur, and as Cynthia Klausner stared at her son seated on the couch next to her husband she couldnt help but be amazed. Her son was telling them about the Academy, and about how he was enjoying the horseback riding program. They laughed as he described the sore bottom he had had when he had climbed on a horse for the first time, and the way it had hurt when the horse started to trot. It was easy to visualize, and while it no doubt had not been funny at the time it was funny now, and the family was all getting a kick out of the tale, including her son.
She smiled at her husband, and Terry Klausner smiled back. This was the best Christmas by far they had enjoyed in many years. The family had just returned from Christmas Eve church services, and their son had built up the fire in the fireplace after they had gotten home. Now, they all sat and watched the fire, and listened to the logs crackle and pop. Their son beamed out his tale about life and school and the friends he had made. Life was good. The Christmas carols were playing on the stereo, in the background and occasionally, when one of their favorites would come on, they would all stop and sing along to the tune.
They were still dressed from church. Her son looked so sharp in his school blazer, with his crisp shirt and sharp, burgundy tie and his matching jacket that sported the school crest. Her son's haircut looked so sharp too; neat and trimmed above his ears and with his neck shaved like a soldiers. She would never have imagined he would have ever let them cut it. But here he was, and his hair was neat and trimmed and he seemed stronger and more mature than she had ever seen him.
But more than his looks, the boy had changed inside, and was now polite and respectful and seemed to radiate a new sense of purpose. All in just four months! Above all else, for the first time in years, she and her husband were proud of him. At church her friends could hardly believe how their son had changed. He had not only looked sharp, but had answered Dana Greenman with a "Yes Mam" and oh how that had surprised her! Mr. Gary Rogers had been shocked at the changes too, and had probed them after the service for the details about Brentwood. It was obvious he too was very interested.
Of course, he had a boy of his own, a stepson and a troublemaker. Mark was in a lot of ways likes Clifford had been, and he too had been in his share of troubles. His grades were a disaster. Tonight, he had been at church, obviously dragged there by his parents, and dressed slovenly in jeans and a t-shirt, with his unkempt hair and beginnings of a mustache. At one time Cliff and Mark were best friends, but Cliff hadn't called him since he had been home, and at church the two boys hardly said hello to each other. No, Cliff was a different boy now, a better boy, and for the first time in many years he was the pride of his family.
What was even more amazing for both of the Klausner's were their son's grades. He had come home with a school "progress report" and it was something to frame. Her son was making mostly A's now, turning his assignments in on time and excelling in his classes. More than that, he was trying hard, playing the game and fitting in with the rest of the world for the first time. According to Dr Martin, his behavior modification had started to make progress within only a few weeks of his arrival, and according to the report he was making rapid progress now and was an "exceptional" student. Who would have thought? Wow.
Their boy had joined the equestrian team, and the school springboard diving team, and also was taking the introductory SCUBA course. On top of all that he was doing intramural wrestling. All this from a boy that had refused to join any clubs or do anything before. In the past he had just cruised the malls and hung out late with his friends, coming home when he wanted and doing as he pleased. The changes were so stark it was hard to believe! It was just amazing! What was even more amazing was that he seemed excited about all of it, and said he even had a few good friends now. The two parents literally were beaming at their son, so proud of how he looked and how he acted that there arent even words to describe it.
The boy finished his story on the horseback riding, and then he turned to his mom and hesitated. It was almost like he was waiting for the right moment. Then, with his eyes sparkling in that perfect, puppy dog look, the boy said "Mom, I love you. You too dad. I was thinking...well, Brentwood's ok and all....but...well, I'd really like to stay home....to be near you guys and here all the time......and...well....I know its real expensive too. I was thinking, perhaps you'd let me go back to Stanton High? Do you think I could stay home? I don't want....don't want to go back to Brentwood."
Terry looked to his wife, and winked. Dr Martin, from the school, had warned them their son might ask to stay home once he got away from the school. He had called the day before they had driven up to get their boy and explained to them that most of the students, even the ones that are doing well, will often try and escape from the demands and the strict discipline standards that are maintained at Brentwood. He said it would probably come out during the Christmas break, and to be looking for it. He had told them that the behavioral modification takes time, and for it to be lasting it must be maintained and the boy must realize that his only option is to embrace the program and change his behavior permanently.
So, of course the boy would return to Brentwood. That was never in doubt. For one thing, the tuition was paid up front, and for the full year. Terry Klausner spoke to his son: "Cliff, we love you too, and are so proud of you. Brentwood's your school now, and it's where you will go." Cliff stared at his father as he spoke those words, and then he grew quiet. The boy looked down then, at the fire, and the logs popped and crackled. Several long minutes passed, and the only sound was the fire and the ticking of the mantel clock. Finally, as they looked at their son, they noticed that his eyes had watered, and then he looked at his dad and the tears were even more obvious when the boy looked up at them. Finally the boy spoke: "Dad.....they......they paddle me there.....all the time. Please don't send me back. Please."
Terry Klausner looked to his son and said: "Cliff....we love you. But this school is good for you, and Dr Martin has told us how proud of you he is. You are really making progress, and your mom and I are really happy and proud of the way you are working so hard. I know it's not fun when they discipline you, but your mom and I just never could do it for you, not even when you needed it. The school is helping you. You know, we get regular reports on your progress. Dr Martin has assured us that you are doing better and in fact according to him you haven't been spanked in almost three weeks. I think thats great, and I think in the future you'll do even better. Hey, why don't we open a few gifts, and start celebrating early? It's almost midnight anyway!
Cliff looked back to the fire, and inhaled deeply. He had tried. As he realized that he was going back to the school, he also realized there wasnt any point in pushing the point. Well, it was true, he hadnt been paddled in a while, and he was figuring out the routine. Besides, the sports were fun, and he did have to admit there were some things about Brentwood that were enjoyable. And, when he saw his old friend Mark earlier in the evening, he realized that he no longer wanted to be like that. He looked to his parents, and he gave them a smile.
Then, turning to the tree, he reached for the first present, passing it back to his dad. He knew what it was, as it was his gift to his father. It wasn't much really, just a framed "school picture," of him dressed in his blazer and standing in front of a table at the Brentwood library. The school had set the session up and made the pictures for free, and except for the faces each photo was like the next.
In his photo Cliff was grinning like he was on top of the world. If you looked hard, in the background you could make out one of the punishment tables, and a paddle was resting on it, waiting, waiting for a misbehaving boy and an upturned bottom. The background was blurred, so it wasnt that apparent. Still, it was a reminder and its placement was obviously intentional. As he handed the picture to his dad he had to smile, and as he did he wiped the tears away. And with that, the family began to share in a holiday that is defined by hope and joy and love. For the first time in years, for this family, heaven seemed to have touched earth and hope truly reined in the world.
[Authors note: © Copyright April 2003. All rights reserved. Not to be copied without the consent of the author. All comments are appreciated, more than you can know. If you liked it, please tell me. I will answer every letter. Nathan9001@yahoo. com]