Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Training Boys
   By Boy Trainer
   Chapter 1 Enrolment
   The time had come.  He could hold her off no longer.  She was really
starting to get pissed at him for taking so damn long and he had completely
run out of excuses.  It wasn't as much procrastination that kept him at
bay, but rather it had more to do with fear.  He had never done anything
like this before, but just like the first time he slaughtered his first
pig, he knew this day would come.
   He was a simple dirt farmer and not the best looking guy in the world,
so when he met Laura he didn't think he stood a chance to actually court
her, much less marry her.
   Laura was the kind of woman he had always dreamed about.  She had long
blond hair that felt like silk.  She had beautiful blue eyes and a face
that came right out of Hollywood.
   Her body was unbelievable too.  She weighed little more than a bucket of
fresh milk and she had breasts that would push the moon aside, but she did
come with some baggage, but then again everything good has a price.
   She came to him already with two kids; a ten-year-old brother and sister
set of twins named Aaron and Angela.  Although she had never been married
before which didn't set right in his highly conservative and religious
upbringing.
   Still the sex with her was so remarkable that he reasoned sexual talent
was a gift from God and her getting pregnant out of wedlock was simply
inevitable and with talent like hers that was nothing she had any control
over, nor should she be blamed for it.
   Having been a widower for over ten years himself he was getting to the
point where he didn't feel he was ever going to share his love with anyone
again.
   The fact she confessed that her twins were a result of a hot and steamy
night with her own twin brother really did something to the man too.  Being
an only child himself and having only had one child in his previous
marriage meant it was such a turn on to him that it gave his stride even
more purpose and resolve.
   Thus when she made her heart-wrenching request and even though it hurt
badly, he came to the conclusion that his bloodline was simply another
expense he had to pay for the chance of happiness.
   Anyway, she had promised him that if he did this for her he could raise
his new family any way he sees fit and the ideas he had in mind were his
life long fantasies come true.
   As he slowly and quietly stepped up the stairs with the thick plastic
tubing ties in his left hand and an old black police baton in the right he
cursed his weakness, but just as quickly shook off his guilt by
rationalizing his task with the solo mental argument that "He would be
living on his own soon anyways."
   He loved his fifteen-year-old son a lot, but honestly not as much as the
wonderful feeling he got having sex with Laura and that's what he thought
about when he came up to the sleeping lad's bunk bed.
   As he looked down at the peacefully sleeping boy he thought about the
changes that have taken place with him since he had started going through
puberty.
   Running his farm was hard work and the boy had started slacking on his
chores.  He always had to fight to get the boy awake in the mornings and
the kid had started to talk back to him.  He sure didn't need that.
   Besides he was a business man and he had to admit that the amount of
money Laura had gotten from the sale of the boy was remarkable and that
combined with the fact that Laura couldn't stand the teen made the choice a
lot easier.
   Plus she was always concerned that he was a bad influence on her own
kids, but the tiebreaker came when she said she found him sprawled naked on
his bed with his fat fifteen-year-old dick shoved up her ten-year-old son's
ass!
   The man was a patriot and served with honor in the army and believed
wholeheartedly in the American justice system where a man was innocent
until proven guilty, but with that being the last picture in his mind,
bringing down the baton seemed to be an automatic reaction.  It was
something he couldn't even remember doing as he hog-tied his unconscious
only son with the plastic ties.
   The next morning not more than forty miles away thirteen-year-old Rick
Sanders was sitting on the back steps of his best friend Charlie Hopper's
house waiting patiently to walk with him to school.
   Unusually enough, Charlie's father Mike stayed home from work that day
and sat with his kids at the breakfast table as their mother tried to get
them fed and off to school.
   Charlie knew that Rick was waiting for him and gulped down his food as
fast as he could without choking.
   Mike just sat glaring at the boy trying his best to hold back his anger.
Not at how the boy was bolting down his food like a pig at a trough, but
over the real reason he was hurrying through breakfast.
   "You have fifteen more minutes boy." He steamed.  "What's the hurry?  Do
you and Rick have plans before school or something?"
   Charlie knew his dad was being sarcastic and he knew why too.  "No dad."
He snorted milk out of his nose in quick response.  "Can't you drop that?
It only happened once."
   "Once was more than I ever did it." Mike retorted.
   "God!" He spat and pushed away from the table.  "I'm never going to live
that down, am I?"
   Mike got up and followed him to the back door where out the window he
saw a white van creeping up slowly in the alleyway and come to a suspicious
stop behind his garage.
   His unwitting mother rushed up to Charlie handing him a five-dollar
bill. "Here's your lunch money Charlie."
   After she handed him the money Mike wrapped his arm around his wife and
walked her away from the door saying.  "You know I don't get morning time
with you very much lately.  What say we make good use of this one?"
   Charlie knew what his dad had in mind, but shook it off as disgusting.
It's just not right thinking of your mom and dad actually doing "That".
   As Charlie stepped outside his eyes fell on Rick and a huge smile came
over his face.  "We only have ten minutes."
   Rick smiled back with the same evil smirk.  "We better hurry then."
   As they reached the alley and turned down it the windowless van pulled
along side the boys and the door slid open.
   Having her attention safely drawn away from the door Mike turned his
head only in time to see the white blur speed off down the now deserted
alley.
   With his free hand he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an
envelope and handed it to his wife.
   As the rest of his children rushed out the back door on their way to
school Mike said.  "Here are the closing papers on the house in Colorado."
   Wide eyed she stopped in her tracks and with a disbelieving voice asked.
"I thought that was just wishful thinking.  I thought we couldn't afford a
house like that."
   "Well, we recently came into some money." He smirked.
   Instantly she remembered the conversations they had after discovering
Charlie's extra curricular activities and turned to look out the back door
window finding only her younger children running down an otherwise empty
alleyway.
   "I thought it would be easier on you if you didn't know ahead of time."
   She only slightly choked up, but gripping the envelope she wiped her
eyes on her husband's sleeve.  "Damn kids always seem to run away at the
wrong time.  Don't they?"
   "Oh did you hear?" Mike asked while he led her to their room.  "Chuck
and Ann decided to buy a brand new motor home and see the country."
   "Good for them.  They deserve a break for once after the shock of losing
a son."
   "Yeah, but they're young and can make another one that looks just like
him."
   Their laughter was only muffled as the bedroom door closed behind them.
   A lanky, but good looking young man pulled his crappy old Toyota up to
the lavishly designed gates till his driver's window reached the intercom
box and then because he was stuck with a used Japanese car he had to slide
over to the passenger seat, get out and walk all the way around the piece
of shit to push the talk button.
   "Hello?" He said into the metal box.
   Moments later a tinny voice answered.  "Can I help you?"
   "My name is Peter and I..."
   That's when suddenly the gates started to open and fearing it was timed
he leapt up and walking on the hood of the Japanese shit box He got to the
other door and dove in banging his knee on the shifter.  He didn't have
time to rub the sore spot, but yelled "God damn it!" and drove onward just
as the gates were starting to close again.
   He drove up the winding path to behold a magnificent mansion looking
building which had one of those overhang roofs supported by pillars and a
chandelier which hung over his car.
   He looked up at the rod iron behemoth and wished to himself that with
any luck that thing would fall right on his car and they would have to buy
him a new one.  Hopefully this time he could get an American or European
car, anything but Japanese.
   He got out of his car and looked up at the large white pillars, which
supported the huge carport roof.  He didn't know if that's what it's
called, but it reminded him of the White House entry.
   He glanced over himself to be sure he looked presentable and that the
long drive didn't wrinkle his blue button up shirt or mess up his darker
blue tie.
   He tried to gather enough money without borrowing any to buy at least a
blazer, but barely managed the cost of gas and food for the trip.  He was
able to obtain a new pair of Jeans and sneakers, but that was the best he
could do.  He hoped that would be enough.
   The School was huge and the façade was all red brick and he had to admit
that with the well-maintained grounds it looked very luxurious indeed and
He could tell that he was going to enjoy working there.
   He wasn't sure of the proper procedure, but he was told that his tenure
included room and board, so he went to the rear of his car and opened the
trunk to retrieve his luggage and he even laughed to himself about that.
   Here he was only eighteen and fresh out of high school and to think that
he was going to be a teacher.  Not to mention that he was going to be
teaching at such a prestigious looking school as surprisingly enough North
Wind looked to be.
   "You must be Peter." A man's voice sounded from behind him.
   It so startled him that he bumped his head on the latch to the trunk. 
"Oomph!  God damn piece of Japanese shit!" He grunted and turned rubbing
his head.
   "Oh I'm sorry." The well-dressed man almost chuckled.  "I didn't mean to
startle you.  Are you all right?  That looked like it hurt."
   "Um yeah, I'm fine thanks." He tried to grin with watery eyes.  "I'm
sorry I swore.  I hope no students heard that."
   The balding man laughed with pity in his eyes over the unfortunate
accident and said.  "Oh god, don't be.  They've all heard and I've heard
them say a lot worse words.  Some words I've never heard before I started
working here."
   "Look, let me save you the trouble." He said.  "Just leave your trunk
open and someone will be along directly.  After your induction and
orientation you will find all your belongings will have been brought up to
your room and everything unpacked for you."
   Peter hadn't been expecting that, so his thoughts instantly went to his
own privacy.  He had a few questionable materials and visual aids that he
didn't feel comfortable letting anyone else see.
   "No that's ok." He tried to protest without drawing too much attention
to what he might be hiding.  "I can do it."
   "Nonsense." The man smirked and grabbed him by the upper arm and tugged
him away from my open trunk.  "Just come with me and I'll take you to the
head master."
   "Um well, I guess..."
   "My name is Graves." The balding and awkward looking man chimed.  "I'm
the trustee of this facility."
   He looked to be about fifty or so and wore a double-breasted,
three-piece, salt and pepper suit with a red bow tie, but he had on pure
white sneakers witch didn't go with the suit at all.
   "Trustee?"
   "I'm more or less in charge of the finances.  I make sure that all the
bills are paid and that includes your salary."
   "I see." The young man said and really he guessed that made sense.  He
did seem to fit the geek bean-counter stereotype.  In fact he sort of
reminded the lad of the lawyer on the TV show Scrubs.
   He led the youth up the half step granite stairs to the huge double
doors of the magnificent building.  The thing about the building that
struck him as odd was that all of the windows were either tinted really
dark or they were painted over with black paint.  He couldn't tell which or
why they were like that.
   They entered the large double doors and stepped into a great rotunda
with more large pillars and another large chandelier hanging from the
ceiling.  The hall echoed with squeaks from the souls of their sneakers
rubbing the glaringly waxed marble floors.
   Grave's voice echoed loudly as he spoke in the marble rotunda.  "I think
you'll find your accommodations most agreeable here."
   Still the young man didn't understand how he was chosen to teach at this
school.  He never sent in a resume or even filled out an application.  He
just received an email stating that they wanted him as a teacher.  He was
as perplexed as anyone ever was over such unexpected fortune.
   After debating to himself that this was too good to be true he called
the number given to him in the email and tried his best to convince them
that they had made a mistake, but the administrator Mr.  Cannon kept
insisting that they don't make mistakes and hiring him was definitely no
mistake.  In fact he insisted that he would be a great asset to the school.
   In any event the amount of his salary was so large that there was no way
he was going to turn it down.  He may not have known how to teach, but he
sure knew how to count money and combining the price set with room and
board included; not to mention that he didn't have to drive to work every
morning was definitely an opportunity He wasn't going to pass up.  It was
as if he had hit the lottery.
   The office door looked antique.  It was a solid and obviously heavy wood
that was probably oak, but Peter didn't know for sure, nor did he care.  It
had nine panes of frosted glass that couldn't be seen through and the
hardware was that of warn brass, but that made the door look even more
antiqued.
   Once in the office Graves told the boy to have a seat and Master Cannon
would be calling him in shortly.
   The lad looked around the office to find chairs lining the walls.  They
were all matching plastic chairs of various sizes, but the odd thing about
the chairs were the seats were all removed and replaced with what looked
like some kind of wire mesh.
   There was however one normal looking desk chair with cushioning sitting
aside a table with a stack of magazines.  It wasn't a hard decision as to
which chair he would sit in.  Besides, any idiot knows that chairs don't
normally have electrical cords running along the baseboards to them.
   Though he had never heard of such a thing, it didn't scare him.  He just
shrugged it off reasoning that this was a special needs school and he had
heard of electric shock treatment before.  He wasn't one to jump to
conclusions.  He knew he would find out soon enough.  After all, if he were
going to be a staff member they would have to fill him in on whatever he
needed to know.
   He sat in the chair still eyeing the other chairs suspiciously.  He
looked at the table beside him and glanced the piles of magazines.  There
were two piles of magazines flared out like poker hands.  The top magazines
were that of Road & Track and the other was Boat's & Yachts.
   He wrinkled his nose at the Road & Track when he saw the cover pictures
were that of Japanese cars and automatically dove his hand for the Boat &
Yacht pile.  He picked that magazine up and looking at the cover picture of
a red Cigarette speedboat, smiled and instantly started dreaming of what
owning one would be like.
   He flipped through the pages of the magazine backwards.  Preferring to
start from the rear rather than from the front.  He always hated having to
pass through all the advertisements at the front of a magazine and besides
the true articles always start somewhere in the middle.
   He soon became engrossed in the magazine and marveled over the quality
of the photography.  The boating magazine wouldn't have been his first
choice normally, but now that he was looking through one, he realized that
he wanted to own one someday.  It just looked so damn fun.
   He didn't know how much time had passed sitting there, but it soon
dawned on him that he had already read almost everything there was to read
about with the exception of the advertisements this is.
   He looked up and spun his head around trying to find a clock on the
walls, but all he could see was white blank cinder block walls and a hard
wood counter top that divided the reception desk from the waiting area. 
Other than the strange chairs it didn't look any different than most
school's principal's offices he's ever seen.
   Then when he was about to set the magazine back on the table he spied
the magazine that the boating one covered.  The magazine had the name David
plastered over the top of what looked like a nine-year-old boy's forehead.
   The boy was only dressed in a pair of leather lederhosen and the front
of them had two side-by-side zippers and they were pulled down revealing
the boy's blue briefs and the boy had an obvious boner, which tented the
briefs boldly from his tiny little prick, which protruded upward.
   "What the fuck?" Peter actually heard himself say out loud.
   He didn't reach for the magazine though.  He just looked at it in awe
and disbelief.  The first thought that came through his mind was that this
was some kind of trick to see if he was a pedophile.  Even though just two
months before, he would have been considered a victim of a pedophile from
someone his current age.
   Then he thought that maybe someone accidentally left it behind or
perhaps one of the students accidentally left it there.  A hundred reasons
clouded his mind, but none really made sense.  One thing for sure though,
he wasn't going to be caught picking it up.  They probably had surveillance
cameras all over the place specifically to catch pedophiles in the act.
   He tried to ignore the gorgeous looking boy smiling for the camera, but
he couldn't help but to return his gaze to the magnetically attractive
picture.
   That's when he saw the other magazines flared out under that one.  One
showed prepubescent smooth and supple feet and below that one was that of
what was obviously a boy's head laying under and between another preteen's
legs and it was obvious they were sixty-nineing.
   The sight of such pictures were so alluring that he almost reached for
it to at least move the upper magazines aside so he could get a better
look, but that's when the door to Cannon's office opened up and he
instinctually whipped his hand back to his lap and tried to act coy and
innocent.
   "Master Cannon will see you now." Graves announced like a butler.
   Peter, without looking at the table set the boating magazine randomly on
the table and rose to his feet.  He tugged at his tie pulling it away from
his blue shirt and headed towards the office door.
   The wooden swinging gate squeaked of age as he passed through it and
heard it pendulant with whap sounds several times behind him before slowing
to a halt.
   Graves scooted sideways around Peter while never taking his eyes off the
lad nor did Peter as he passed Graves who took his seat at the reception
desk flopping down several folders on top of it.
   Still with his eyes focused on Graves he heard a rather gleeful man's
voice behind him say.  "Come in my boy.  I'm so glad you made it.  Did you
have any trouble finding the place?  Please have a seat."
   With his back still turned away from the voice he cringed, tightened his
fists, wrenched his eyelids strongly together and fought off the
butterfly's filling his queasy stomach.  This was it.
   With gut wrenching fear Pete braved up and spun on his heals only to
instantly be calmed by the sight of a very friendly and rather good-looking
man whom Pete had an instant attraction for.  It may not have been a sexual
attraction, but Peter could imagine at least being friends with the man.
   Pete guessed the man was in his late twenties or maybe early thirties.
He had black hair and brown eyes with thick black eyelashes.  He wore a
white Polo shirt with the school name North Wind embroidered over his right
breast.  Pete was pleased to see that he was dressed rather casually
considering his own informal attire.
   The handsome and yet youthfully CUTE man rose from behind the desk and
shoved his hand forward.  Pete was further comforted with the further
informality of kaki shorts and to his self-embarrassment because he
couldn't help but picture what was making them stretch so tout at the
crotch.
   "My name is Head Master Cannon, but never let the students hear you call
me anything but Head Master."
   "Then I will only call you Head Master." Pete smiled.
   "I appreciate that." Cannon said and sat back behind his desk.  "And you
are Peter Miller.  Again you are only to be addressed by the students as
Trainer."
   "Trainer?"
   "Yeah well teacher, trainer, instructor whatever.  Here you will be
referred to as Trainer and always followed by sir."
   "Oh so this is some sort of reform school?" Pete asked picturing some
sort of youth prison in his mind's eye.
   "Well...  Let's get into that in a second.  I know you have expressed
your discomfort at being asked to work here.  You don't think you are
qualified to be a trainer?"
   "Well yeah, I mean look at me.  I'm just a kid myself...  Well,
practically."
   "I like your honesty kid." Cannon smiled and leaned back in his chair.
"But you see these kids don't need to know how to read and write.  They
don't need to know math or science.  Shit, they don't even need to know how
to spell their own names."
   Pete's eyebrow lifted like a puzzled Vulcan.  "Well then what?"
   The man behind the desk ignored his question and hefted up a rather
large folder and right away Pete saw the stack of "Visual aids" that it
once covered.  His "visual aids" at that!
   "Trust me." He said with an evil grin.  "We've chosen you because you
have exhibited some interest in the things we teach here." He continued
with.  "You've been investigated very thoroughly even before you ever got
our invitation of employment."
   By then Pete was almost hyperventilating from fear.  He couldn't think.
He was only looking at the door and praying it wasn't locked should he need
to make a quick exit.
   Cannon saw him eyeing the door and knowingly stated calmly.  "You can
leave at any moment you wish and I wouldn't dare stop you.  The door isn't
locked and there are no cops waiting in the bushes for you.  This isn't
that stupid TV show.  Besides this isn't even sweeps week."
   He picked up Peter's magazines and paging through them said.  "I am Iron
Boy fifteen."
   "Huh?"
   "I.R.O.N.B.O.I.1.5."
   Peter's mind raced to his online "friend".  It was a boy who craved
being a slave and wanted some sort of training.  Peter was elated that he
could at least pretend to dominate a boy because he always felt that's what
he was inside.  He always wanted to be a master and own a slave boy and
IronBoi15 seemed to be perfect for his fantasy.
   He recalled almost a full year of getting the boy to do strange and
sometimes painful acts.  He never thought that he was actually doing those
things, but he could picture them in his mind and that was all that was
important to him.  He only wanted something to beat off to.
   Eventually Peter wanted to know if this boy he was chatting with was
real so he asked for pictures of the boy and to make sure, he had the boy
pose in various positions for the camera.  Soon though it had gone to live
web cam shows for Pete's enjoyment, which Pete reasoned pulled him in
deeper.
   Pete sat there dumbstruck and silent.  He knew he was busted and still
glared at the door ready to escape.  At least he wanted to escape his own
embarrassment.
   "Pete...  Pete...  Peter!" Cannon called out obtaining his attention.
   Pete knew he was calling him and slowly he turned back to the man.
   "Before you say anything." The man said.  "Let me show you something."
   "Graves." Cannon called out.  "Bring in the boy."
   Seconds later a naked blond boy who looked to be at the very oldest
about the age of fourteen came in the room, but had no fourteen-year-old
pubic hair and in fact had no body hair at all.
   He stood there with head low and eyes to the floor showing no concern at
all that with the exception of his leather collar, ankle and wrist straps
that he was completely naked.
   This was not only a shock to Peter, but also his mind raced with
hot-blooded excitement because this was Peter's lifelong fantasy to the
exact detail.  From the blond haired boy to the leather restraints and
right down to the way the boy stood there.  It was all exactly what he had
always dreamed of.
   He even had to do a double take as he looked at the boy's face.  "This
is Iron Boy Fifteen."
   "Well yes and no." Cannon smiled.  "I used him as a model for the
pictures I sent you, but it was me talking to you all along."
   "But I talked to him live on web cam and..."
   Cannon laughed.  "This boy couldn't even tell you what the letter Z even
looks like!  This boy is as dumb as a box of rocks.  This thing's education
consists only in giving pleasure and it barely manages that."
   Then Cannon stood up as if to prove his point and said.  "Watch this."
   He reached in his desk drawer and pulled out what looked to be a twelve
to fourteen inch black dildo and holding it like a weapon said.  "Boy... 
Cum!"
   The boy grimaced as if he was constipated and seconds later his soft
penis started oozing droplets of what looked like semen onto the floor
between his bare feet.
   "There..." Cannon pointed at his still dripping penis.  "Look how long
it took this piece of shit to do as it was told."
   He clubbed the boy stingingly, but harmlessly across the head with the
big black dildo and ordered.  "Bend over shit-head."
   Tears started to flow from the boy's blue eyes as he did as he was told.
The boy even know to turn away from Cannon and using his own fingers,
spread his sumptuous ass cheeks for the man.
   To Peter's surprise the man set the bulbous head of the dildo up to the
young looking teen's ass hole and with a some force that made the boy hold
out his hands and brace himself against the door, shoved it almost half way
up.
   "There you worthless piece of shit!" Cannon barked out.  "Go study.  The
next time I tell you to cum, you damn well better know how to trigger that
fucking prostate of yours faster."
   Still with the dildo extending half way out his ass the boy stood
upright, turned and kneeled kissing Cannon's feet saying between kisses. 
"This boy thanks the Head Master for a chance to redeem its self."
   "Get the fuck out of here you vile fuck!"
   With that the boy again rose and fled out the office door.
   Peter just sat there not knowing what to say or even how to feel.  He
was perplexed sure, but he was also frightened and yet at the same time
very aroused over the sight of the boy having something so big shoved up
his small ass that he couldn't even imagine how he was able to do it.  Not
to mention that Cannon didn't even use any sort of lubricant at all.
   "You see." Cannon said as he returned to his seat.  "These boys...  All
of these boys are property...  My property and I own each and every one of
them till the day they are sold and at a rather substantial profit I might
add."
   He giggled and continued with.  "People pay good money for well trained
boy slaves."
   "Your job my young friend is to do exactly what you've been dreaming
about doing your whole life and that is to train them as mindlessly willing
slaves."
   "Butt...  I don't know how."
   "Oh yes you do." Cannon sarcastically retorted.  "I've chatted with you
long enough to know how you like doing these things.  I know you because I
am just like you and always have been."
   "It's natural for guys like us.  All you have to do is remember that
these are not normal boys.  They are nothing more than property.  Just
remember to think of them not as humans or even boys, but as property and
you'll do fine."
   Then with Peter sitting there in awe.  Cannon leaned forward with elbows
on his desk and said.  "You must be starving.  It's almost lunchtime. 
Graves will take you to your room and fix you up."
   Somehow knowing the conversation was over and nothing more would be
said, Peter got to his feet and tentatively left the room closing the door
behind him.
   Graves looked up at the bewildered lad and asked.  "Well?"
   "He said you would take me to my room and fix me up with lunch."
   "Not that." Graves said as he got to his feet.  "What do you think?"
   "I don't know what to think." He said as they walked out of the
reception area side by side.
   "I can tell you exactly what you're thinking." Graves stated
confidently.
   "What's that?" Pete asked still with a glassy look in his eyes.
   "You're wondering when you will be introduced to your boys."
   Peter turned sharply to look in Graves face, but didn't argue his
assumptions because that was exactly what he was thinking even though he
felt real guilt for it.
   As they walked down the halls, which echoed and squeaked to their
sneakers Pete had a sudden yearning to know.  "Where did that boy go?"
   "Oh that thing?"
   Pete took note that even Graves seemed to consider the beautiful boy as
nothing more than garbage.
   "Well you see the black dildo is a sort of hall pass.  It proves that it
was were it says it was, but also it being a black dildo, tells the boy's
trainer that it needs specialized attention to its boy pussy."
   "What's that mean?"
   "Ever heard of gaping?"
   "No..." He raced through his memory.  "Oh!" He jolted when suddenly he
realized what Graves was saying without having to say it and only then did
he feel a sudden and practically uncontrollable urge to whip out his dick
and masturbate right there as they walked.
   Somehow Graves sensed it in Peter's expression and said.  "Would you
like to check in on the session after lunch?"
   "Really?"
   "Yeah." Graves smiled.  "You can even have a little of that sweet ass if
you like."
   Peter began to smile and the smile grew with each squeaky step they
took. 
  
Training Property