Longwood Reform School (Revised 4 June 2007)
by Platypus
plupy@surfbest.net
copyright 2007 by Platypus, all rights reserved
* * * * *
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains
explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If
you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story.
* * * * *
Longwood Reform School was a large stone building set amid
expansive grounds on an island off the coast of Maine. The
island's remoteness fostered the youth prison's traditional
ambience, a severe regimen incorporating elements of
sadistic pedagogy and incarceration. Run by the Corporation
of Benevolent Elders and funded in large measure by the
American Enterprise Institute, the kiddy gulag was a
neoconservative response to perceived insolence and liberal
and sinful attitudes among American male youth. It was a
facility for the re-education and confinement of boys aged
12-14. In this age range, the benevolent overseers felt that
harsh punishment might still be effective in curbing and
modifying sinful behaviors. Boys were sent to Longwood for
many offenses and could remain there for more than two
years, depending upon the inmate's date of birth and other
pertinent circumstances, such as age at arrival. If this
drastic treatment didn't work, boys were sometimes sent to a
secret American gulag facility elsewhere in the world, to be
further incarcerated and possibly maimed or killed. Staff at
Longwood invariably realized these implications and with
these concerns in mind, performed their duties toward their
charges with due diligence. "To be lenient only jeopardizes
the boy's future," was Longwood's most practiced refrain.
The minimum term at Longwood was typically 9 months, but
with certain exceptions. The term of confinement depended on
achievement of set academic, practical, and behavioral goals
and confinement could be extended as needed if goals for a
particular boy weren't sufficiently met. Similarly, the
regime allowed for a reduction in confinement (up to 1/3
term) and a return to mainstream education and the outside
world if an inmate applied himself in those relevant
particulars of behavior, and also had learned proper
submission to authority and demonstrated scholastic and
sexual achievement.
Boys sent to Longwood typically came from broken homes, hard
neighborhoods or sometimes were just ordinary boys who
transgressed with the law. Local law enforcement agencies
knew what lay in store for a boy whom they sent there.
Locals living on the island invariably complied with
Longmont officials in returning boys loosed on the island
attempting to abscond. Island neighbors believed that
Longmont was a necessary evil even if they often sensed or
even knew (by witnessing firsthand) that its methods could
be severe. Witnessing those methods, especially punishments
of miscreant boys, usually demanded more of a stomach for
cruelty than most people possessed. Exceptions were those
living near the reform school who might themselves possess a
decidedly cruel bent.
After sentencing, a boy or young teenager who arrived at
Longwood would be put through a comprehensive induction to
ensure that he knew what was expected of him. The regime was
strict and from the beginning a lad was left in no doubt
about what would be the consequences if he strayed from the
rules.
After arrival (usually three new boys would be processed at
a time), the induction routine would be rigorously adhered
to. Boys usually arrived in their "Sunday best." They would
have appeared in court dressed in finery to demonstrate
their best impression to the judge and other legal and law
enforcement authorities.
*
For 12-year-old Richard Prulem, and 13-year-olds Marc
Sebastian and David Frolinger, those ostentatious items of
apparel were not enough to soften their sentences. Richard
was a handsome blonde with hazel eyes, averaged sized in
stature for his age with a record of arson and shoplifting.
Marc was a striking brunette with brown eyes as was David,
except the latter presented a bit taller and lankier frame
from being slightly closer to puberty's peak. Both Marc and
David had been apprehended for burglaries and school truancy
offenses, and were known for their incorrigible behaviors.
None of the boys knew each other before arriving on the
island at Longwood. The trio came from Connecticut and had
been segregated by their race (Caucasian) and so faced
induction together. All three had been sentenced to an
entire year to be served at Longwood Reform School.
*
In the induction chamber hard wooden chairs were stacked
neatly against the back wall. The chamber also housed a
shower and a photo cubicle. Like all incoming Longwood boys,
Richard, Marc, and David entered the induction room dressed
in their "Sunday best" that had made little impression on
any adult evaluating them. All three were handcuffed.
Greeting them was Mr. Bostich, the housemaster on duty who
would oversee their induction, and two formidable officers,
one male and one female, each armed with stun guns capable
of delivering a painful shock. After the usual
preliminaries, inmates Prulem, Sebastian, and Frolinger were
stood at attention and the custody officers removed their
handcuffs. "Hold out your arms!" was the first instruction
barked to each new boy. The uncuffed boys were then led to
the long trestle table and had a cardboard box placed in
front of him. Bostich, who seemed to possess the demeanor of
a Marine drill instructor and was hard-bodied and coifed
with a crewcut to match, began explaining that they were now
at Longwood and that they would do as they were told for the
duration of their sentences, "Starting now�"
The introductory speech was tedious to each now intimidated
boy. They suffered through phrases like "You won't be
pampered or spoiled at Longwood" and "There's special
treatments here but I can guarantee that you won't like
them" and "I'll bet you're thinking that confinement here is
like an island vacation" and such expressions. At Longwood
boys soon discovered that even minor transgressions might
result in serious punishments.
When the speech ended, things instantly worsened. Standing
at attention, Richard, Marc, and David were suddenly ordered
by Mr. Bostich to "Strip!" The man and the woman officers,
each showing a military-like demeanor of their own, glared
at the boys when they didn't immediately comply. "Obey
orders!" the woman, a sharp-featured blonde bitch, screamed.
As she vocalized her anger to all three new charges, she
slapped Marc hard across the face. Marc instantly began
crying, his attractive brown eyes leaking copious tears,
from being struck unexpectedly, and Richard and David were
soon removing their clothing. Mr. Bostich and the male
intake officer made each boy carefully fold each article of
clothing as it was removed and place it neatly in the
appropriate box. Watches, jewelry, and small change etc.
were placed in an envelope. Each boy signed the front of his
envelope and would eventually receive his "valuables" back.
Soon Richard and David were stripped to their socks and
underwear -- blue boxers and white briefs, respectively.
Still crying, Marc remained dressed until the vicious female
officer pressed the tip of her stun gun against the side of
his neck, just above his collar, and pressed the trigger.
"Yeowwh!" the thirteen-year old screamed.
"You didn't have to do that!" Marc protested, bawling in
pain.
"Then strip, like you're supposed to," Mr. Bostich calmly
repeated.
Richard and David, although divested of their suits, barely
suppressed sniggers.
"What are you two looking at? You're not even fully
undressed!" Mr. Bostich yelled at close range in each
"still-dressed" boy's face. He'd made their ears buzz from
his yelling.
"Socks and underwear too," the male intake officer said
quietly, "down to your birthday suits!"
"We want you in your skins! You boys have to be inspected!"
Mr. Bostich yelled again. "For contraband!"
*
The initial bodily inspection was the most humiliating
experience Richard, Marc, or David had ever undergone up to
that point. All three new boys stood entirely naked with
hands on top of their heads and with legs nicely spread,
bare soles pressed fully against the cold hard cement floor
of Longwood's intake room. Properly intimidated, each boy
was now very nervous, his stomach pulsing in knots with
beads of sweat just starting on his forehead.
"Follow orders, and we won't use a stun gun on your bare
body," Mr. Bostich said with a slightly sadistic grin.
"First we check your head hair for lice, so place your hands
by your sides temporarily," the male officer ordered. Adult
fingernails were soon scratching three tender scalps.
Fingers tousled bowl-shaped haircuts. But the boys didn't
have lice or contraband hidden in their head hair. "Hands on
your heads again," Bostich barked. He soon inserted a
rubber-tipped probe with a light on its end into each boy's
ear cavity. "Slight wax build-up in Frolinger's right ear,"
Bostich intoned.
Next the boys were ordered to "Open your mouth." Teeth and
gums, and down into their throats were checked for
contraband.
"All three of them have excellent teeth," Mr. Bostich
remarked.
Three faces and necks were palpated for skin texture. Skin
texture and sensitivity were duly noted on other parts of
their pubertal bodies as well, as slight pinches were
performed to study reactions.
First Richard, and then Marc and David were inspected on
their backs and legs and feet, including the soles. Each boy
was ordered to lift his left foot and then his right while
in a standing position. Strong adult hands brutally twisted
and spread apart each of the boys' toes. Before this could
happen to Richard, he wasn't fast enough in getting his
right foot raised to thigh level while standing. Impatiently
the male officer grabbed the 12-year-old's offending foot
and pressed the stun gun's point against the middle of his
bare sole just below the toes. He pressed the trigger.
"Yeowwh!" Richard screamed. "You didn't have to do that!"
"You weren't fast enough," Bostich explained.
"That's what you get for dilly-dallying," the female officer
added.
Palpating the chests and tender bellies of Richard, Marc and
David involved twisting and pinching of nipples and intimate
inspection along the flesh of the ribs. David, being lankier
and taller, "has less rib meat than the other two," muttered
Mr. Bostich. Fronts of the legs and tops of the new inmates'
feet and ankles were checked, especially for characteristics
such as fine hair on toes such as a few hairs on the large
"big" toe as some boys of this age might possess.
All three naked newbies were told to "bend over" and lean
against the wooden trestle table while spreading their legs.
A new probe, shaped like a large dildo with a penetrating
light at its leading edge was used to inspect the anal
cavity of each recalcitrant young prisoner. Again, Richard
was first. "Damn," the boy said, this time quick to comply.
"Make sure you get it all the way into his asshole," Mr.
Bostich instructed, "We never know what these kids might try
to smuggle in." Never having had that particular threshold
breached by any object, and certainly never by a hard metal
object larger in circumference than a small hen's egg, the
probe caused Richard considerable discomfort as it entered
his small anus. Tears began. "That f__cking hurts," Richard
bawled, "a lot."
"Has to be done," said the male intake officer.
Marc had the probe shoved in even deeper, as the female
intake officer mistook several small fissures for illicit
deposits of smuggled contraband. "I think he's brought in
some kind of drug," she exclaimed. "Hold still boy," she
snarled, as Marc suddenly felt as if a knife was churning
towards his intestines. "Aarrgh! Stop it! Please! Please
take it out!" The boy screamed in tremendous pain.
David's anal adventure involved some digital manipulation of
his testicles and prostrate by the male officer, and in
fact, the boy had rear portions of his exposed genitalia
flicked with a rude index finger several times, and twice
nicked with an ambitious fingernail. He tried grimacing and
bore up well.
But leaning backward over the table produced even worst
sensations for incoming miscreants. This procedure involved
an intimate inspection of their male genitalia from the
front. "Okay, each of you needs to be hard, get an erection,
damn it!" hissed Mr. Bostich. This final instruction became
a bit more complicated for David. Boys were required to
expose their glans on command.
"Frolinger. I'm only going to say this once. You are not
circumcised. Skin that foreskin all the way back to
COMPLETELY expose your glans! Now!" Mr. Bostich was livid.
Because Marc and Richard were circumcised, their sensitive
glans portions of their penises were already clearly on
display. While forced to anxiously stimulate their organs to
make themselves hard, an embarrassing humiliation for a
pubertal boy, soon this dramatic effect was nicely achieved.
David, meanwhile, wasn't entirely sure what a glans was. He
guessed correctly a bit too late. In what seemed like slow
motion, he watched the male intake officer reach out and
grab his bare cock with one hand and with the other hand
start manipulating the thirteen-year-old's foreskin,
exposing the kid's red bulbous knob. "That's your glans!" he
shouted to the boy, and to reinforce the point, he
positioned his stun gun to place its metallic tip directly
onto David's sensitive and newly exposed glans. When he
pressed the trigger, the resultant pulse contacted tender
virgin tissue, shocking it with excessive force. "Yeowwh!
That kills! That kills!" Ironically perhaps, David was
screaming bloody murder. Mercifully, when the weapon wasn't
promptly removed from his organ, David fainted.
Awakened a moment later from his brief faint, David's eyes
immediately opened as wide as they could go. He couldn't
believe what he saw. Another lighted probe was entering his
peehole! It was a metal catheter. "Get that probe all the
way in, down to his bladder," Bostich said, matter-of-
factly. "You can never tell what these little bastards might
hide down their piss-slits, just to fool us."
"This will hurt a lot going in, but even more when I pull it
out," said the female intake officer in a nasty tone. She
wasn't wrong. But it didn't have serrated edges like some
punishment probes used at Longwood.
Soon Marc and Richard underwent the same minor ordeal. By
its conclusion, all three boys were quietly sobbing.
They weren't allowed to sob in peace.
"Okay, we have new clothes for you boys!" Mr. Bostich said a
few moments later. Dark-blue jumpsuits with long or short
pants, white briefs, white socks, and sneakers were standard
Longwood Reform School garb. The sneakers were black and
white and tattered. They barely fit.
*
About a month into their sentence, all three boys were in
big trouble. Marc had been the ringleader, been caught
masturbating and compounded this by spreading his boyish
semen all over a mirror in one of Longwood's communal
bathrooms. Facing stern punishment for that cardinal rule
being broken and shattered, he'd persuaded Richard and David
to make an escape attempt with him. They'd made it to a boat
dock, and were about to step in to a wooden rowboat when
they heard the voice of its owner say quietly, breaking the
stillness, "Boys, you trying to steal my boat? Stop right
there!" He also had a lantern and a shotgun and the gun was
pointed right at the terrified trio of Longwood absconders
in the pleasant maritime night.
"You're from Longwood, aren't you?" he asked softly.
"No we're not," Richard insisted.
But all he got was an amused grin from the righteous island
local, and he knew hope was gone.
*
"Take Prulem, Sebastian, and Frolinger to the punishment
area," Mr. Shardgreaves said. Equivalent to a prison warden,
any edicts issued by this all-powerful reform school head
administrator were irrevocable and final. He'd assigned
their sentences, including the extra punishments for Marc
Sebastian, who'd been the ringleader and also committed the
"sexual offense," considered a heinous crime in such a place
where even the hint of boy-initiated sexually oriented
activity was swiftly and harshly nipped in the bud.
Taken into account was the fact that these offenses were
their first breach of the Longwood codes for all three boys,
now domiciled together in the same shared room. Still, they
were severe penalties about to be meted out, and like
nothing experienced yet by Richard, Marc, or David. All had
settled in and adapted to their stern environment to some
extent, gaining a measure of bravado and camaraderie during
their initial four weeks, but all that was about to change.
"I should never have listened to you," Richard hissed at one
point during the punishment sentencing proceedings in Mr.
Shardgreaves's austere and dimly lit office, "We didn't even
have a decent plan!" Haphazard it was, as the boys had
chosen the boat at random, and little care or thought had
occurred about what to do IF they had managed to enter the
often-choppy channel leading to the mainland's difficult to
access shoreline.
*
Richard Prulem, David Frolinger, and Marc Sebastian were
soon escorted to the punishment area. After processing,
Richard and David would receive 10 strokes of the tawse on
his hands, 25 strokes with the cane on the soles of his feet
(a progressive punishment reserved for absconders), and 30
hard cane strokes applied to his backside. In Longwood's
peculiar vernacular, "backside" meant from dorsal tops of
shoulders to the dorsal portions of a boy's sensitive knees.
Richard and David would later be given a further 6 strokes
of the tawse on their hands prior to release back to his
dormitory. It was also intimated that Marc Sebastian would
have an additional month added to his sentence. Young
Sebastian would be punished separately for the sexually
associated offenses in about 30 days hence and also would
receive a slightly more severe initial punishment for being
the ringleader of the small "ring" of boys caught
absconding.
Richard and David were the first to be marched to the back
of the punishment room. Two officers marched the Sebastian
boy to be isolated while handcuffed and leg shackled, as
Marc was considered the worst offender. Marc was temporarily
separated from his companions and placed in a holding cell
about fifty feet distant from the punishment area.
Now that he was by himself awaiting punishment, Marc began
reviewing the extent of his predicament in his mind's eye.
He grimaced as he recalled how Mr. Shardgreaves had looked
into his eyes and without emotion gave his harsher judgment.
Now that he'd left the headmaster's august presence, hearing
the anxious voices and soon to be screams of David and
Richard, everything seemed much more immediate. In a little
while, after Richard and David had received their
punishments, Marc too would be led the short distance to the
punishment area. (The holding cells and the punishment area
were all part of a dungeon-like cavity beneath the
dormitories). Marc was sentenced to receive (after being
processed), 20 strokes of the tawse on his hands, 50 strokes
of the cane on the soles of his feet, and 60 hard strokes of
the cane on his "backside." Marc would also be placed in
solitary for 7 days and get 6 strokes of the tawse on his
hands, and 10 strokes of the tawse on his soles, and 20
strokes of the cane on his backside at 4:00 p.m. on each of
the days he was confined.
Once the punishments had been first announced, all three
boys were visibly upset and frightened worse than ever about
being taken "downstairs." Now, caged in his holding cell,
Marc was actually sweating with fear.
*
The officers in charge had first ordered Richard and David
out of Mr. Shardgreaves office, while Marc had been led
separately. All three boys were marched through the small
door at the end of the corridor that led directly into the
punishment area and also the holding cells. The punishment
area was subterranean, an oval�shaped large room lit
brightly by fluorescent bulbs.
*
Back in his office, Mr. Shardgreaves called on the intercom
for the duty housemaster to come to see him. Mr.
Shardgreaves usually delegated the actual administration of
punishments to the duty Housemaster, in this instance it was
left to Mr. Elmer Stone.
*
Marc had been with his companions just minutes earlier. All
three boys were still dressed in their Longwood uniforms,
their "everyday duds," identical navy-blue cotton long-
sleeved shirts with short pants, white briefs, and white
socks. Each completed their ensemble with a pair of well-
worn black-and-white sneakers. Immediately, Richard and
David were taken out of handcuffs, and in Marc's case, his
leg shackles were removed. Each boy was then told to "Strip
to your shorts," which meant his pair of Longwood regulation
cotton short pants with his white briefs underneath. The
three absconders were soon barefoot and barechested but
still "decent" as they sometimes described this state of
semi-nudity among themselves.
But then an officer came to strip off their navy blue shorts
and white briefs in one determined yank. They were suddenly
bare ass nude. "Face the wall at the side of the chamber!
Eyes front!" A masculine voice bellowed. The temperature in
the punishment area was kept uniformly at 67 degrees F., but
each naked boy shivered.
The same disagreeable officer, a Mr. Randeazy, first turned
his attentions to 12-year-old Richard, the cute hazel-eyed
blonde of perfect proportions.
"Prulem!" He screamed. "Come over here!" Richard padded over
gingerly, cautiously, a bit like a bunny rabbit about to be
pulverized by something vicious. Richard shyly turned away
from the awful man, out of both modesty and fear.
"I didn't tell you to turn away from me, boy. Did you hear
me tell you to turn away?"
"No sir" the boy offered, "I guess you didn't."
"Damn right I didn't."About face," and "Present yourself,"
were barked. Those instructions meant that Richard had to
stand naked before Mr. Randeazy and do as he was told. First
he was instructed to "Get in the barber's chair!" His legs
were placed and his bare feet were secured in the worn
leather stirrups. With the chair pushed back, Richard was
soon lying nearly prone on his back, well secured. The
barber approached with his electric clippers to remove any
body hair he might find on the first boy. It felt funny, but
didn't really hurt as the barber maneuvered Richard's penis
and with one hand gently stroking his tender tummy, the fast
whirring clippers removed Richard's virgin pubic hairs,
although there weren't many there yet. Still, it felt
humiliating to lose those few precious hairs. It did hurt a
bit when the barber used an open straight razor and shaving
cream to shave off the stray incipient hairs which had been
growing on Richard's sensitive underarms, his bare chest,
belly, calves, and a few on each of his big toes. When he
was turned over in the chair, Richard felt the scrape of the
straight razor against his sensitive inner thighs. Even
inside his butt by his asshole, he felt a little scraping
and probably a nick or two on the very sensitive area that
some of the other tough boys referred to as "your little
rosebud," but then he was done.
"This one's smooth as a baby now," Richard remembered
hearing the barber brag.
David was next. Same routine � except that after the
slightly lankier and taller boy was secured in the barber's
chair, the officer Mr. Randeazy actually got up from his
comfortable chair to assist the barber. He squirmed a bit
more when the men used the electric clippers to remove
David's pubes, every last one, except David knew they'd grow
back after this fucking punishment ended. When Randeazy
remarked, "Hey this one's uncut," the men, both of them, had
a little fun, massaging David's penis, and rolling the boy's
foreskin back to expose his reddened glans, they played this
game several times until the boy's cockhead was a little
sore and extremely sensitive. They searched for hairs all
over David's body, shaved him with the straight razor
everywhere imaginable it seemed, but soon Salvadore the
barber was bragging about how smooth he'd become as well.
Finally it was Marc's turn to be shaved, "this kid's the
ringleader" and now the men really had fun and were a bit
more brutal in the shaving and in nipping with the clippers.
Marc was lying back nude in the barber's chair and was soon
subjected to a minor ordeal. The boy screamed when the
electric clippers first nicked his balls. "Oops I think I
nicked the kid's left nut." Sal admitted. Several stinging
cuts occurred when the men shaved a few chest hairs near
David's sensitive nipples by going against the grain,
"Nobody's perfect," Randeazy remarked, and "Shut up kid,
stop your caterwauling or we'll really give you something to
bawl about." Other little accidents occurred in a dozen
sensitive places before the shaving of Marc was mercifully
over.
Once smoothed down each boy was made to shower and dry
himself before a final inspection. Richard, David, and Marc
were then ordered to face the cement wall with their hands
clasped behind their heads. Every minute seemed like an hour
while they waited for the punishment area's door to open and
a Housemaster to enter.
They'd waited about 20 minutes when as Richard and David and
Marc exchanged glances with each other, Mr. Elmer Stone
entered the room.
Mr. Stone was an ex-prison guard and an ex-Marine. About 50,
he was a good-natured man except where it came to the Bible
and his cherished American values. Gray-haired and quite
well built, Stone was a substitute housemaster always out to
prove himself, so he might secure a permanent staff position
at Longwood. Mr. Shardgreaves trusted Mr. Stone completely
to deliver to the boys exactly what he was told to, and all
three miscreants weren't exactly thrilled to realize that
Mr. Stone would be administering their punishments. Mr.
Stone removed his tawse from under his jacket and placed the
instrument of pain on a chair nearest the long punishment
table. He ordered that Richard Prulem would be punished
first and that David and Marc would be re-handcuffed and
placed in nearby holding cells until Richard had been dealt
with.
*
"Prulem, get onto the punishment table and sit with your
face forward!" Mr. Stone said in a raised voice.
Richard did as he was told. Soon the naked 12-year-old was
sitting atop the table. Mr. Stone told Richard to raise his
hands. "Both of them! Palms up!" He reiterated. Mr. Stone
picked up his Lochbelly H 4-stranded tawse and after careful
measurement by laying the strap's end upon the boy's
outstretched palms, he applied ten very hard strokes to each
of Richard's hands. After even the initial stroke with the
cruel tawse, Richard's palms burned with an excruciating
pain. By five, blisters were forming, and the boy's palms
were entirely reddened. By ten, the pain was unthinkable and
yet the boy was focused on nothing else, and trying to avoid
sobbing openly.
Richard's hands were alight with burning pain and whilst he
concentrated his thoughts on the pain in his hands, he
didn't hear Mr. Stone tell the officers to "Secure him
please." Richard was quickly restrained, face down on the
caning table by the two efficient officers. While leather
straps restrained his wrists, something more significant was
occurring at the caning table's opposite end. At the foot of
each leg of the table, Richard's ankle-fronts were placed in
the special block and this time his feet were secured at the
ankles by two additional leather straps so that Richard's
bare soles were exposed and vulnerable.
"That's fine, thank you!" Mr. Stone said, as he nodded to
the officers. From beneath the table Mr. Stone produced the
rod, a piece of wood doweling suitable for Longwood legends
that measured about half-inch in thickness and about thirty
inches in length. Mr. Stone stood at the head of the caning
table and showed Richard the implement. "Okay, young man.
You will now have twenty-five good reasons to carefully
consider it next time your feet stray from where they should
be � now hold your feet still until this is over." Mr. Stone
walked to the opposite end of the table and double-checked
the ankle straps satisfied they were tight he moved back
slightly and took up position. He then placed the rod gently
over Richard's bare soles, drew back, and thwack! Richard
let out his first howl when contact was made. When the
second stroke was applied, Richard's soles were stinging, he
started bawling. Worse, his feet moved involuntarily, "you
get that one repeated, you little bastard, Mr. Stone
exclaimed, "Don't you dare move them, or it's extra
strokes."
"But sir, they hardly moved at all, maybe an inch, and my
feet still got creamed," Richard protested.
"Doesn't matter, that's the Longwood rule. Your feet move
even a trifle, and you get the stroke again. I don't make
the rules here, but I'm obliged to follow them when I'm
punishing boys. It's for your own good. You're lucky we
didn't prepare your feet for your foot caning. That's what
you'd get if you ever tried running away again. That would
be a lot of fun for us, but not for boys like you. A third
escape attempt is punished even worse. Then we'd have to
break your toes too � so you'd never try to run from
Longwood again. We use pliers to break a boy's toes." Mr.
Stone delivered Richard's second stroke again. This time
Richard barely managed to keep his feet still, they hurt so
much. By the third stroke applied to each bare sole, Richard
was howling. Mr. Stone paid no attention to this and after a
ten-second rest, resumed the application of the rod taking
care to apply the strokes evenly from the bottoms of
Richard's heels to the soon reddened and well-blistered
undersides of his sensitive toes, and repeating a stroke if
needed. Richard was openly sobbing after the thirty-first
stroke of the rod, Mr. Stone's final blow to complete this
phase of the boy's punishment.
Mr. Stone looked at Richard and said, "You'll not want a
repeat of that Prulem, will you?" He then seemed eager to
begin the assault anew in another location apart from the
boy's now reddened and blistered soles.
What was next? Richard didn't have long to wait. "Now let's
get your backside warmed!" Mr. Stone raised his voice
excitedly. He laid the rod back atop a small shelf under the
table where the canes were stored. He then selected a medium
cane to complete Richard's main punishment for the first
attempt of absconding.
Richard had been sentenced to thirty strokes but ended up
getting forty-seven, with do-overs.
Having flexed the cane, which was of medium thickness but
still whippy, Mr. Stone made a few practice strokes in the
air. He positioned himself and lined up the cane so as to
first strike Richard's slightly raised buttocks, with the
area from Richard's bare shoulders all the way down his body
to his knees on the backside being target areas for the
cane. "I want you to count the strokes now boy, and if you
move too much for my liking, you get it over,' Mr. Stone
said.
The first stroke was hard as it lashed down, and stung like
hell, but it hit the fleshly "padding" in the center of the
twelve-year-old's "bubble butt." Mr. Stone then commenced a
staccato progression down Richard's entire backside with the
cruel cane. He began with two fierce blows striking the boy
and marking high on his back just below the shoulderblades,
and then several blows proceeding downwards, mid-back,
lower-back, buttocks, thighs, and legs, several striking his
legs, and the lowest strikes with the cane lacerating the
tender rear portions of Richard's knees. "Owwweeee!" he
frequently screamed. Mr. Stone was careful to deliver the
cuts in sequence, according to long-established Longwood
tradition. By the tenth cut, Richard was bawling again, but
even when his entire backside began to be criss-crossed with
angry red welts and lines of demarcation, Richard dutifully
counted out the discipline being meted out to him. "Forty-
six," he forced himself to announce loud enough for Mr.
Stone to hear. Forty seven, the final blow, was laid in the
crease just below Richard's buttocks and just above his
thighs, a sensitive area, and the boy confirmed that with a
very loud yell, and there followed a very subdued, "forty-
seven, sir."
"Okay, get him off the table and put him in the third cell,"
Mr. Stone instructed the officers. Once on his suddenly
fragile and very sore feet, Richard began limping away with
the two officers. But before he could entirely leave, Mr.
Stone whispered, "I'll be back to see you when you're back
in your dormitory," in Richard's ear. Richard was led to the
third cell and felt very sore and lonely as the door latch
clicked into place behind him. He was hoping to get some
bedding, maybe a blanket, a pillow would have been nice,
certainly a heavenly sight to the boy.
David Frolinger was about to have his turn at being punished
but before this could happen, a stranger, sort of, walked
right into Longwood's subterranean punishment area � he
seemed to know where to find it. "I have tickets for the
entire proceedings for all three boys," said the semi-
stranger.
"Well, unfortunately you just missed the main event with the
first boy, Richard Prulem," explained Mr. Randeazy who'd
enjoyed Richard's punishment immensely.
"We're very punctual here at Longwood," added Mr. Stone,
"Otherwise it's not fair to the boys requiring punishment."
But Mr. Caleb Greene did have tickets for the rest of the
punishments scheduled to be meted out to the absconders, as
it was Greene, the local, who'd spotted all three on his
rowboat, just in the nick of time.
Soon a chair was pulled up for Mr. Greene to sit in. Since
he wasn't Longwood staff, he couldn't assist in the
punishments, but he could watch. Watching the kids get
thrashed was pretty much the entertainment he was looking
for, anyway.
The lankier 13-year-old, David, was soon brought in, still
nude, dressed nicely in his birthday suit.
"You punish them naked?" Greene asked. This was his first
Longwood Punishment session he'd ever attended, and
evidently it was going to be even better than he'd hoped.
"Usually," Mr. Randeazy replied. "There's a humiliation
factor, especially with our age group, 12-14."
"Young Mr. Frolinger here has earned a first-time absconder
punishment, and so he'll get it, just the standard ordeal
though, as this is his first offense."
It began as Richard's ordeal had, and Mr. Stone stood poised
and ready. "Frolinger, get up onto the punishment table and
sit with your face forward!"
David did. Soon the naked 13-year-old was sitting atop the
table. Mr. Stone told David to raise his hands. "Both of
them! Palms up!" David did, but immediately began
whimpering in fear. "Stop your whimpering! You've earned
this, boy."
Again, Mr. Stone grasped in his own muscular hands his
Lochbelly H tawse and after careful measurement by laying
the end of the strap onto David's outstretched palms, he
applied several vicious strokes to each of the boy's hands.
David's hands were in excruciating pain and whilst he
focused on that agony, several more strikes with the tawse
followed, until the prescribed ten had been delivered. In a
cruel d�j� vu, David reacted much like Richard had, and he
didn't realize that Mr. Stone was now telling the officers
to "Secure this boy now." David was quickly restrained, face
down on the caning table by the two officers. David's wrists
were soon trapped tightly by leather straps with his arms
extended above his head lying flat but stretched out
slightly. Next, at the other end of the caning table, the
front portions of David's ankles were placed in the special
block, and these appendages too were secured by leather
straps, so that his tender soles could be properly punished.
"Excellent," Mr. Stone remarked, "his feet are locked in
nice and tight."
Once again, from beneath the table Mr. Stone produced "The
Rod," and it was still a half-inch thick and thirty inches
long. Standing at the head of the table, this time he showed
the implement to David. "Alright you little punk. Now,
you'll have twenty-five good reasons to carefully consider
it next time your feet stray from our premises � now hold
your tootsies still until this is over. In fact, if you
should move more than I'd like you to, you WILL get the cut
over. Your friend Richard needed six extra hits, how many
will you require?"
"I'll tr-try to keep them still, sir," David replied in a
quavering voice that came out a bit squeaky. His penis
dribbled out a few drops of urine, he was so terrified. He'd
never been struck or ever experienced significant pain on
the bottoms of his feet. Now he was about to, and dreaded
this unknown terror that he had absolutely no control over.
At that instant, Mr. Stone moved to the opposite end of the
table and double-checked the ankle-straps. Satisfied they
were tight he moved a step or two back and took up position.
He then placed the rod over David's soles, drew back, and
thwack! David let out a howl that rivaled the call of a
banshee, at the precise instant when contact was made
between the rod and David's foot flesh, right below his
large toes on the balls of the boy's 13-year-old foot. Both
soles were stinging after Stone's second cut with the cruel
stick, and since his feet were judged by Stone to have
moved, he was obliged to get that strike to his soles
repeated. After five strokes, David's soles were already
striped with marks and slightly reddened. By this juncture
of the foot caning, David was bawling. Mr. Stone paid no
attention to this and after a 30-second break (for the
flogger, not the floggee), he resumed where he'd left off,
taking care to apply the cuts evenly from the bottoms of
David's heels to the sensitive undersides of all ten of the
boy's toes. David was openly sobbing after the tenth cut of
the rod to both of his soles. The boy's caterwauling if
anything intensified as the strokes kept raining down upon
his bare soles. Cut number fifteen was excruciatingly felt
across his meaty insteps, the twentieth landed upon his heel
bottoms, the twenty-fifth cut which should have been his
last but wasn't, and finally his 37th and final cut across
the boy's now extremely tender and blistered arches. "It's
fun to run away from Longwood, isn't it boy?" He also felt
obliged to add in the obvious, "Because you can't keep your
freaking feet still during punishment, you deserved those
twelve extra cuts, didn't you boy?"
"I won't do it again sir" and "Yes sir, I deserved the extra
ones," David replied, answering both of Mr. Stone's
questions rather contritely, not daring to smart-mouth him
as he'd wanted to � for fear of more pain to his feet.
"Okay, now let's get on with chastising your backside. Don't
you think it needs it, boy?"
Mr. Stone laid the rod back in its accustomed place, on the
small shelf where other caning implements were stored.
Within the confines of this American kiddy gulag, such
implements were in almost constant use. Stone had a
selection to accommodate his needs as a boy flogger too. In
the case of the larger and lankier David Frolinger, he
figured that a heavier cane with a pointed tip would work
better. He rationalized this mostly because the kid was well
over 13, pushing 13 and a half, and since David's baby fat
was gone, the boy probably would have a slightly higher
tolerance for pain, although this was entirely speculation
on his part.
Mr. Stone made an elaborate show of flexing the new cane. He
liked its feel and balance and believed that it would cause
maximum pain, always a prime consideration at Longwood. "You
need to count each cut as you receive them, or you'll get it
over," Stone explained to the young miscreant. "Did you just
hear me?"
"Yes sir," David said.
A great portion of the theatrics was for the benefit of Mr.
Caleb Greene, the school's guest, and its current boy-
bringer as a matter of fact, and he was enjoying the show
immensely. "I like the pointed end on that stick. That
should do a little bit of extra damage!" Mr. Greene opined
it seemed to David, far too gleefully.
"Are you about ready for me to begin on your backside, your
shoulders down to the backs of your knees?"
"No, not exactly, please don't sir," David answered
truthfully, but it only postponed the inevitable a very few
seconds.
The first cut was hard and felt like nothing David had ever
felt before in his thirteen plus years. It stung terribly
when it landed right across the geographic center of David's
bare buttocks. "One," the boy managed to gasp out just in
time so as to not have that stroke repeated. "Owwweeee!" he
screamed. The next stroke was delayed about ten seconds.
David could hear the heavy cane being flexed somewhere
behind him, and the pointed tip of it crashed high on the
boy's naked back, just below his right shoulder. "Owwweeee!"
and then the perfunctory count. "Two." David couldn't tell
of course, but he was already bleeding from a tiny cut. The
cuts came every ten seconds of so and preceded down the
boy's sensitive back, down to his buttocks, and then further
down to begin welting the backs of David's legs. He got the
final one across his thighs and since it was across several
earlier welts, the chastised area was already bleeding a
little. "Fifty-two," the boy dutifully counted through his
sobs.
"You took that rather well, better than I would have
thought,' Stone admitted.
"Am I done?" David asked.
"For now," Stone replied.
"Okay, get him off the table and put him in the second
cell," Mr. Stone instructed the officers. Once, he got up
off the table, David felt more excruciating pain in his
tortured soles, but forced himself to walk slowly and with
great effort, grimacing with every step. "I'll be back to
see you every day while you're in solitary," Mr. Stone added
in a threatening tone that David found particularly nasty.
The officers noted that Stone had certainly done a number on
the boy's backside, an intricate lattice of red welts now
existed on David's lacerated backside from his shoulders to
the boy's legs in back. "You'll be feeling that beating for
close to a week," Mr. Randeazy said.
"Yeah, but Mr. Stone said that I took it well, better than
he would've thought," David answered with a bit of well-
earned pride and dignity.
"He won't be running any foot-races anytime soon," was Mr.
Greene's comment, which was true enough David figured. His
feet did feel like shit.
Mr. Stone decided that he needed a break before punishing
the ringleader of this trio of miscreants, Marc Sebastian.
"Let that one wait a little longer. I'm starved," he said,
before going upstairs to the staff member's cafeteria. He
wondered what was actually on the menu tonight. "I'll be
back in a half-hour."
Caleb Greene joined him, and was told that his ticket to
watch the punishments did come with a free meal, like bread
& circus from the Roman days of antiquity back when slave
boys were punished in the Coliseum. The meal was cafeteria-
style, and both men took plank steaks with boiled potatoes
and salads, everything well seasoned and tasty. "The boys
must eat well here," Greene muttered to Stone. This wasn't
necessarily true, but they weren't starved, and the food
dished out to the boys was healthy and plentiful as most
boarding arrangements in the United States. "I suppose," was
Mr. Stone's laconic reply.
So at the allotted time, both Mr. Greene, the visitor, and
Mr. Stone, the punisher on duty, returned to the "Special
Room" dedicated to punishments.
Now with sleeves rolled up, Mr. Stone was prepared and even
eager to get back to work. "Fetch me Marc Sebastian from
Cell # 1!"
In a moment, the delinquent appeared. The naked boy was
resisting fiercely and had to be dragged to the vicinity of
the caning table. His handcuffs and ankle shackles released,
Marc was made to kneel at the end of the table and told to
raise his hands. Mr. Stone had heard about this boy's role
in the escape attempt, and also about the masturbating
without permission and smearing his semen in a Longwood
public area, for which he would face an even more serious
punishment in a month's time. "You are a disgusting and
total waste of space. I'm not going to go easy with you,
boy. So let's get started. "Get both of those palms up,
now."
Mr. Stone was a religious-minded neoconservative, and
considered himself "born again," and thought that for this
boy's sake it had better be someone else assigned to mete
out Marc's sexual issues punishment session. He felt at that
moment a genuine anger at this insolent pig of a boy, and if
he were told to punish him on that impending occasion, the
boy might end up a eunuch! But that was then, just a
delicious musing, this was now.
Marc's palms were up and he was already whimpering as he
awaited the first blow. Mr. Stone measured the target and
laid the strap full-force on Marc's hands, and the hits
followed in rapid succession.
"This one seems like he has an attitude," opined the
visitor, Mr. Caleb Greene.
Several heads nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he's trouble," Mr.
Stone added.
That's all I needed. Inciting of these bastards from the
f__cking peanut gallery, Marc found himself musing as he
regarded Mr. Greene with a hostile stare of his own.
"You're going to get forty on the palms, twenty on each
hand," Mr. Stone muttered. "A severe lesson." It seemed like
an eternity, but in truth, took less than five minutes.
This hand flogging was more severe than most kids of 13
could handle, but what was coming would be far worse. Marc
was in severe pain as he was laid down face down on the
caning table. His wrists were restrained, then his feet were
placed in the block with the leather straps. Mr. Stone asked
the officers to clean Marc and one took a bottle of Meth
spirit (rubbing alcohol) and poured it on a rag before
cleaning Marc's soles and backside. Marc was now fully
exposed and his skin was in prime condition for punishment.
The Rod was once again removed from beneath the caning table
and Mr. Stone hesitated as he told Marc that his would be
the hardest strokes that he had ever given a boy. Marc bit
his lips and gritted his teeth and the assault on his bare
feet began.
The Rod was raised and the process of making Marc's soles
repentant about to be completed. Mr. Stone noticed that the
boy of 13 possessed perfectly proportioned and almost
beautiful feet that were about to become a locus of pain for
the kid.
"Fifty strokes, and if you move your soles enough so that
the cut is compromised in the slightest, you will get the
cut over."
The cuts came fast and furious, almost a frenzy of violence
committed on Marc's soles by the passionate Mr. Stone. The
fleshy surfaces from the undersides of all of Marc's ten
toes down to his bare heels were covered completely by the
punishment without a spot of alcohol-treated flesh being
missed. Mr. Stone made sure that all of the boy's soles were
given an equal dose of the dreaded Rod. Marc cried out and
bawled and sobbed and his knees were kicking during the
infliction of the Rod, but the boy took the full punishment,
an ordeal that totaled 67 strokes. "Know that if you were to
ever run away from these premises again, next time it will
go even worse for you, as next time your feet would have to
be prepared for your punishment, according to our standard
Longwood code."
Marc didn't even dare ask Mr. Stone what "preparing" his
feet for a flogging would entail, but the boy's imagination
kicked into overdrive at the prospect. Later, he would
compare notes with his peer Richard Prulem, who was somehow
under the impression that such a pre-punishment would
involve the breaking of a boy's toes, or some of them, using
a pair of pliers. This dire thought would prove unfounded,
but certainly upped the fear factor. Marc also didn't know
yet that certain sensitive parts of his body would indeed be
"prepared" for punishment during his impending "sexual
issues" ordeal that would take place on schedule in a
month's time.
Mr. Greene was grinning like a Cheshire cat upon witnessing
Marc's rather strenuously executed beating of his naked
soles. He was actually allowed to inspect the boy's newly
lacerated and suddenly extremely tender soles. "Wow! His
soles are really reddened and blistered and a few of the
blisters have even popped � and are oozing a little blood.
This must really hurt." For effect, he dug a fingernail into
one of the blisters, near Marc's instep, and the boy
obligingly screamed, as if on cue.
"They won't heal real quickly either, as I'll be revisiting
his soles with a tawse every afternoon for a week while he's
kept in solitary," explained Mr. Stone. Marc wasn't exactly
thrilled to hear those words.
Despite the ill treatment meted out to Marc's bare feet,
they weren't permanently damaged � just extremely painful
that night as Marc already began contemplating what a week's
worth of tawse punishments might feel like on his already
sensitized feet.
Finally, Marc's backside � knees to shoulders in the
Longwood manner � was dealt with. Although Marc was only 13
and even younger than David, Mr. Stone selected the heavy
senior cane and told Marc, "You will remember this for a
long time, boy." After which the cane whished through the
air onto the boy's naked back, buttocks, and legs. After a
dozen strokes with the big thick cane Marc was very sore and
in a pleading mode but after twenty-five strokes Marc had
actually passed out from the pain and had to be revived with
smelling salts.
Eventually, a barely conscious and limping boy was returned
to his solitary cell, and Mr. Greene's sadistic
entertainment, for which he'd earned a ticket to for his own
compliance in returning the trio of miscreants, had
unfortunately ended for the evening.
*
Marc Sebastian became a model inmate at Longwood from that
point forward, at least for the duration of his punishments
visited upon his body in solitary. Lying there in his bunk,
he was allowed to read and to catch up with his school
assignments, and he dreaded that punctual time in the
evening when Mr. Stone came calling. The routine was pretty
much identical each evening.
"Hold out your hands, young man," and then he watched as in
slow motion, like in a bad dream, the tawse descended upon
his palms. By the time the man was through with his hands,
his bare soles were next targeted for attention. His hands
were reddened and stinging, but now what was coming seemed
infinitely worse. At least he wasn't tied down, or
restrained in any manner, but he couldn't run either, and he
knew that any resistance would bring more staff to Mr.
Stone's aid. He wasn't required to be naked, but wearing
just shorts, he still felt "kind of naked" and certainly
very vulnerable. So lying on his Spartan cot, he was
instructed to "Present your soles for punishment, boy," and
no matter how reddened or blistered or sensitive they were
from previous sessions, he knew he didn't have a choice. So
lying on his stomach, he was obliged to bend his knees and
extend his bare feet with their soles up, facing the tawse.
During and after each of these feet beatings, the pain in
his soles could be excruciating and radiated all the way up
his legs from the punished epicenter, and he often cried and
screamed. Sometimes the strands of the tawse would cause
blisters or small cuts, and definite bruising, but this was
expected. Finally, the last cuts were administered in his
cell, to his suddenly bared backside. "
"Remove your shorts, Marc," and he knew he had to, and now
he was naked again, and being strapped on his back and butt
and legs. Sometimes Mr. Stone in the privacy of the cell
went a bit further than he was supposed to under Longwood
rules and brought the tawse down onto his calves and even
cut his heels so they bled once or twice. But Marc didn't
complain beyond his screams and soon enough, his follow up
punishment was mercifully over.
David Frolinger and Richard Prulem experienced a similar
follow-up regime to a lesser degree.
*
Eventually all three miscreants were released from separate
confinement and freed to their dorm room and to their school
classes at Longwood. The resilience of youth allows boys to
recover from their punishments, and to a degree, to forget
about them. During the next several weeks, Marc certainly
didn't ruminate about the punishment facing him some three
weeks in his future. He was becoming docile at school, and
making good grades, and attempting to fit in with the
population. He received not a single demerit during the
interim and neither did David or Richard. But soon enough it
was time, and he was called out of class one day and told to
report to Mr. Shardgreaves. It didn't dawn on the boy why
Mr. Shardgreaves wanted to speak with him, he'd already been
punished for running away and that was over with, and he'd
promised to never again "abscond." He still felt that way,
but in a moment, the boy's failing memory was refreshed.
"What do you mean sir that I have to be punished again? I've
been good." Marc tried his best plaintive look, begging the
headmaster with his eyes and body language.
"For your behavior in the boy's restroom, you've been
scheduled for a punishment session Friday evening. You'll be
taken to the punishment chamber with one of the staff."
"Can't I clean the bathrooms or something like that? I
promise that something like what I did that time will never
happen again." Marc now was tearing up, and starting to
bawl, really begging the cruel headmaster for a well-
deserved reprieve.
"No, we have an approved regime for such offenses. We can't
make an exception, even if you've been on good behavior. It
wouldn't be fair to the other inmates."
"Sir, can I ask what you're going to do to me?" He really
wanted to have some idea so that he could mentally prepare
himself for his impending punishment session. But he was not
to be granted even that trifling mercy.
"You'll find out soon enough. Dismissed!"
*
In Dorm room 173, Richard and David were beginning their
free time (an hour period just prior to lights out at 10:15
p.m. on a Friday evening) but in the midst of a slight
argument when Mr. Elmer Stone came by suddenly and
interrupted them.
"I need Sebastian, your roomy," he said while barging in.
"He's in the shower sir" David volunteered, not knowing what
else to say.
"I don't need any lip from you, or you'll get to join him,"
Mr. Stone snapped. He didn't like the boy's tone.
"All I said was that he's in the shower, sir" David
repeated, this time a little bit more contritely.
"I'll wait," Mr. Stone said, standing inside the threshold
to their assigned room. "Go back to what you were doing,
boys. It's your Friday night free time, and either one of
you isn't on restriction, so return to your activity."
But doing that was difficult, as all spontaneity vanished
with him standing there.
Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Marc Sebastian came
out into the shared bedroom, dressed only in his white
briefs, but already dried.
"Oh, you're here already," the boy said. "Is it time yet
sir?"
"Almost. We've got five minutes to get there. A lot of
people are expecting us."
"Do I go dressed like this sir?"
"No, you get to wear your school uniform. I'll take you down
as soon as you're dressed."
Marc found and put on his Navy-blue jumpsuit and shorts, and
sat down on his bed to don white socks and tattered black
sneakers. He didn't dare dawdle.
*
Marc walked down to the punishment chamber with Mr. Elmer
Stone giving him a nudge in the ribs or shoulders at least
twice. Mr. Stone didn't want to be late, and didn't want to
be the Longwood staff member responsible for meting out this
particular punishment session. Shardgreaves had briefed him
as an alternate for this duty, but Mr. Pike was actually
assigned to deal with young Sebastian in this rather
officious and very public setting.
The large room was like a well-lit dungeon, or medieval-
styled chamber, with its stone walls and long tables set up
and the special implements for use on Marc's body as a
punishment for his gross and despicable behavior. Mr. Stone
was very well versed in the stern measures that would be
necessary, but he wasn't crazy about executing this
sentence. Dealing with absconders was a task that he
actually enjoyed, even relished. These Friday evening
"events," with many board members and locals and generous
donors � such a scene was not exactly Mr. Stone's cup of
tea. At one such Longwood fundraiser, at least 30 chairs had
been set up. These affairs tended to be overflowing with the
curious and the sadistic or else the curiously sadistic.
What's more, Mr. Stone was a much more private man and
preferred dealing with the miscreants in a more private
manner.
As it turned out, the scene was even worse than Mr. Stone
had envisioned. The room was buzzing with excitement and
anticipation when he walked in leading the 13-year-old.
Forty seats, all of them plush sofa-like divans, where three
visitors or paying ticket holders might sit together on a
first come, first served basis, crammed together but still
quite comfortable, were filled. Caleb Greene was there, the
local farmer was cradling his ticket stub, as were nine of
the reform school's twelve executive board members, up from
New York City and the bowels of the American Enterprise
Institute. Mr. Shardgreaves was present too; he would likely
function as a proxy master of ceremonies to move the event
along and make sure that Marc's individual punishments
conformed precisely to protocol. But where was Mr. Thomas
Pike? This was ominous! Pike had to show in the next few
minutes. Or else he'd be saddled with the honors. Worse, Mr.
Pike's reputation was that he wasn't the most punctual sort.
He was, however, the most adept practitioner at meting out
the sexually related punishments at Longwood. For a few
moments, the buzz and murmurs continued. Then, Mr.
Shardgreaves couldn't delay the proceedings any longer.
Immediately greeting the eye was the big screen view � above
the table where Marc was to receive his punishments � of the
popular close up cam. This technology would allow everyone
in the room to get a close up view of every sometimes-gory
detail of each punishment to be visited upon the miscreant's
body.
"Mr. Stone. Please bring young Mr. Sebastian up front! Let's
begin! You'll be spelling Mr. Pike. You are familiar with
our procedures for the sexually-related transgressions?"
"I am."
Suddenly Marc felt butterflies twittering in his stomach and
they weren't just from stage fright.
*
What first struck Mr. Stone's gaze was the splendid array of
punishment implements available laid out neatly on the
auxiliary table. Everything a torturer might desire. Marc
noticed them too, and would have turned around and run to
the hinterlands or at least straight back to his dorm room
if he could. There was a pair of sharp-edged pliers, with a
sure grip, and a plethora of sharp needles placed on a bed
of gauze. A soldering iron, a red-hot poker that had been
heated in a brazier -- each looked ready for use. Several
large heated needles were prepared for use, and placed in
convenient receptacles. The usual complement of whips and
canes and tawses were arranged on the table, but none of
them hidden. One interesting everyday item was a standard
office supply � a little staple remover with sharp-pointed
steel jaws. Several serrated probes including a thorny twig
with numerous sharp growths protruding attracted Marc's
morbid attention, as did a whole tangle of Q-tips lying
beside them. A tube of Ben-Gay was placed next to various
grades of sanding paper, and bottles of vinegar and cinnamon
oil and rubbing alcohol and a clear but suitably caustic
cleaning solvent. A special abrasive and itching substance
prepared according to a unique and time-tested formula for
causing the boys maximum discomfort was available for use in
coating any Q-tips that might be used. A glass jar had dirt
inside it, and tiny living creatures crawling around inside,
were those fire ants? A small tub of salt water was nearby.
Marc could only wonder. Was that brine for soaking the canes
and tawses? What was that other weird implement resembling a
tawse? Marc Sebastian didn't yet know the word for martinet.
*
Mr. Shardgreaves began the introductions. Every Longwood
event had necessary, and sometimes unnecessary,
preliminaries. "Welcome board members, staff, instructors,
and visiting ticket holders. Here at Longwood, we find
sexually based offenses especially heinous. This inmate and
young miscreant, 13-year-old Marc Sebastian masquerades in
his angelic features and has brazenly committed two major
transgressions of our sacred Longwood code. To wit, he was
caught masturbating in a Longwood lavatory on the second
floor of the main corridor, and then incredibly, taking his
own semen and using it to desecrate the pine sol scented
surroundings, which had been made meticulously clean by our
diligent janitorial staff. For those offenses, he must be
appropriately punished according to every standardized
procedure found in our applicable punishment codes. He,
along with two other inmates whom he shares a dorm room
with, were previously punished as absconders within the past
month. Mr. Stone will temporarily assume the duties of Mr.
Pike, unless or until he arrives. Mr. Pike is in transit to
the island as I speak, and we hope that he arrives before
this evening's events have concluded. Without further adieu,
I give you Mr. Elmer Stone!"
Mr. Stone didn't waste any time.
"Remove your blue upper garment!" he barked. Marc did, and
was soon stripped to the waist wearing just his shorts and
underlying white cotton briefs and footwear. "Okay, I want
you to get up on that long table to your left, and lie back,
tilting your head over the side. It's time to get you warmed
up a bit!"
As the boy was waiting and gritting his teeth from the pain
he knew he'd be feeling in a moment or two, Mr. Stone was
choosing a medium weight long supple cane, tapered at the
end.
"As you can all see, the first punishment for young Marc
this evening involves a caning of the boy's tender chest and
soft belly area, as prescribed, this exercise is subjective,
the actual number of strokes indeterminate, dependent upon
results. I will begin."
"No, you won't," boomed a basso profundo voice, you haven't
prepared him correctly. It's in the Longwood Handbook."
Marc assumed for a second that he'd received a major
reprieve. But it was only the expert punisher, Mr. Thomas
Pike, who'd arrived in only slightly tardy fashion. "You
will assist me with this miscreant, Mr. Stone?"
"Of course, Mr. Pike." Secretly Mr. Stone was relieved, as
he never felt completely comfortable administering the
Longwood's sexual offense punishment regimen, as it was
quite involved. He was really quite content to immediately
defer to Mr. Pike, who had been perfecting the details of
these particular punishments for almost 17 years. It was
also quite possible that Mr. Stone had omitted some crucial
detail, and he might learn from this moment, and other such
moments.
"But the boy will do in that position, except that you can
rest your head young man. I want you to see everything we
do."
Soon Marc was lying down on his back on the table, with his
chest and stomach bared. The boy watched anxiously as Mr.
Pike now held something sharp and a bit shiny in his hand �
the little tool typically used for removing staples. Mr.
Pike's voice was amplified so that that audience could
clearly hear him, as could Mr. Stone and Marc Sebastian. "I
will now prepare your fleshy chest and belly areas with this
little tool, boy. I can guarantee you won't like it. You can
scream and cry all you like. Won't make any difference!"
Some murmurs of laughter resounded in the room. Marc wasn't
laughing especially as Mr. Pike explained what he was about
to do. "This is an excellent pincher and it is sterilized so
I can also penetrate his flesh and mark him a bit, nothing
too serious. Recuperative time: One day. I'm looking for
sensitive areas and to sensitize areas. Should be fun � but
not for the boy, here. What's your name?"
"Marc sir," he replied rather timidly, while gritting his
teeth again.
"First, you place a bit of his flesh between the little
jaws, then, just squeeze hard." The first pinch was near his
left nipple on the edge of the pectoral muscle, and drew a
little blood. Marc really felt it. "Yeowhh!" the boy
screamed. This was the pattern, a high-degree of pain caused
every time. The next pinch occurred near Marc's right
nipple, with an identical result. The second pinch scratched
the sensitive skin on that pectoral muscle, but failed to
draw the same tiny trickle of blood. But it continued,
inexorably, as Mr. Pike decided to try twenty-seven distinct
sites, pinching hard each time. Each time, the man's
technique, which Mr. Stone found admirable to witness close-
up, elicited a proper screech or full-fledged scream from
the boy. Mr. Pike waited at least thirty seconds between
each pinch, and drew tiny trickles of blood about half the
time. Soon several places along Marc's ribs and on both
sides, and also down on his lower belly, were properly
prepared.
The actual caning hit the same tortured areas, striping the
boy's chest and belly and sides with at least fifty blows.
Mr. Stone wiped off any blood left from the cuts with an
alcohol-soaked rag, which also stung quite a bit. Marc was
given a few minutes to recuperate from the first ordeals, as
Mr. Pike left to get a beverage. Administering punishments
can make a person thirsty.
Marc laid thinking, with the audience all around him, like
in an amphitheater. What thoughts cascaded through his head?
His chest and rib areas and exposed tummy still throbbed,
but he had endured it. Maybe I can get through this and it
won't be so bad. I won't be a baby.
At that moment, he could have left the room, as he wasn't
secured, except that he would have almost certainly been
caught if he'd tried. He did decide to get up off the long
table and stand up, nervously walking around the table a few
times, observing all the implements available for use on
him, and he had a mind to run, to abscond once again. If
he'd known what was in store for him, he might have thrown
all caution to the wind.
*
"Who told you to get up from the table, boy?" The basso
profundo was back, Mr. Pike. "Get back up on the table,
now." Marc climbed back on. "Sorry sir." The boy muttered as
contritely as possible.
The next dreaded combination of words was calculated to
increase Marc's vulnerability and fright. "Okay, finish
undressing boy." Marc shuddered, and then took off his
shorts and underpants, so now he was nude except for his
footwear. He tried to modestly cover himself with his hands
placed over his genitals.
"Mr. Pike. I believe he still has memories of when his feet
were punished last month for absconding a first time. That's
why he's kept on his footwear. He's probably being a bit
instinctual and it's not a completely conscious reaction."
Mr. Pike was having none of it. "I said shoes and socks,
too." There was something menacing in the man's tone. Marc
realized that he wasn't kidding and wasn't going to cut him
any slack.
"I'm sorry sir. I'll take them off too right away."
Soon he was barefoot and told to "Lie on your stomach with
your feet raised in the air." A few seconds later, Marc had
assumed the required position.
Although his feet had recently healed from the previous
month's ministrations, he shuddered to think about
experiencing more pain being inflicted on his soles or
elsewhere. Initially, nothing painful happened. Mr. Pike
instead began touching his feet, caressing the boy's toes
and checking in-between those toes for dirt or any sign of
fungus (no, fungus, only a tiny bit of dirt), checking out
the shape and configuration of Marc's toenails, lightly
tickling his soles. Then he barked another order. "Okay, I
want you on your back again."
His next explanation was pure showmanship for the audience's
benefit. "We're going to do something Asian, something that
I guarantee that Marc won't enjoy." He signaled Mr. Stone to
fetch two plastic stands about two feet high. Each was
screwed into the table so that it was secure. "Present his
feet on top of the plastic stands, toes toward me," Mr. Pike
instructed.
He now held in his hand a small shard of bamboo. "The
Malaysians used to perform a little ritual that we are proud
to adopt here at Longwood. It's only our third year of
performing it on our boys. What the Malaysian captors would
do was to use the fresh bamboo to torment beneath a toenail
or two of their prisoners. We've adapted this punishment to
require that all of the miscreant's toenails be done." He
smiled evilly.
No, Marc thought, oh please no! That torture sounded
diabolical. He was shaking from fear.
Next, he spoke again to the terrified boy. "Mr. Stone is
going to grasp your calves firmly so that you don't slip out
of the plastic foot holders. But if you squirm too much, I
will do that toe again � and again � as often as necessary.
Understand boy?"
"Yes sir," Marc answered. This was going to hurt
tremendously.
Each time when the bamboo shard descended and began rooting
about under Marc's toenails, it hurt even more than Marc had
imagined. The pain was excruciating, and gritting his teeth
did no good, no good at all. Mr. Pike meanwhile was
engrossed in his work, fascinated by the shrieks and
grimaces and moans he was eliciting from the young
miscreant. He was a bit like a dentist drilling for
cavities, if such a pain duller as Novocain didn't exist. By
the time this little exercise was over, all of the boy's
toenails were oozing blood, and little did Marc know that
his ordeal was about to grow worse still.
*
The naked Marc was next instructed to lie on his back on the
long table and to listen carefully for instructions. Mr.
Pike was explicit. "You do exactly what we tell you boy.
When I give the signal, I want you to lift your left leg and
foot high into the air in preparation for receiving your
next punishment. Your leg will be kept in that position, up
in the air, for the duration of your punishment. While you
may scream and yell and be as loud as you wish, if your
elevated leg drops, or loses its height so much as an inch
during the punishment procedure, you will have an additional
extreme punishment, or possibly two such punishments,
performed on you immediately afterwards. Do you understand,
boy?"
Marc regarded his tormentor warily. "Yes sir," he said
softly.
"Let's begin." Mr. Pike fetched a plastic-handled martinet
that possessed leather lashes tapering into eight rounded
wooden beads at the end. "This is a martinet, young man.
With your foot elevated high into the air, as high as you
can get it, I will snap this instrument at your unprotected
balls � that means your testicles, boy. Your nuts, your
jewels, your groin area will be my only target for the next
few minutes. It will be like being struck in the balls with
a numchuk � a popular Japanese weapon boys like you are
sometimes familiar with."
"But sir, how many times are you going to hit me there?"
Marc was again terrified of this new kind of pain. He was
already close to whimpering.
"Mr. Stone will run a stopwatch for three to five minutes.
You'll be struck on your exposed balls � and they'd better
be completely exposed. If that foot comes down even a little
bit� this ball bashing will seem like tickling � and you
will have some new events scheduled for immediately
afterwards � for now, you'll be struck on your exposed balls
� for as many times as I deem necessary during the
prescribed time limit. I'm hoping to get in between six to
ten decent whacks, but it may be a few more. Now lift that
leg and foot way up!"
Marc did as he was told, albeit slowly, with tremendous
trepidation.
"Higher, get that foot up even higher. As high as you can
possibly extend it. Now!"
A murmur of anticipation filled the dungeon-like
amphitheater like the buzz of wasps. Marc was lying on his
back, the wooden table pressed against his entire backside
except for his left leg, which was hoisted high above his
head, leaving his nutsack and balls entirely unprotected.
Moving the foot down to table level would be an instinctive
reaction, Marc knew, and he had to somehow resist that urge
to protect his tender balls. He gritted his teeth, but knew
it wouldn't be easy.
Mr. Pike grasped the wooden-beaded martinet, about a foot
long, and began swinging it in the air. It made sort of a
whooshing sound. Marc whimpered in pure terror. Finally, Mr.
Pike snapped his wrist and solidly struck Marc's left ball
in its wrinkled sack. Marc had hoped to be prepared for the
pain. It was like a white flash. He surely wasn't. Three of
the wooded beads had made direct contact. "Yeowwh!" The boy
screamed several times. Miraculously, the thirteen-year-old
kept his leg high and in position. The blows were measured.
Marc knew he'd never last through the several additional
hits he had coming, and felt a horrid excruciating achey
feeling and pain that made him feel like vomiting. Mr. Pike
smiled with a hint of satisfaction, but prepared for a
second strike to the boy's right testicle. He started
swinging the instrument, measured, and Marc felt the next
flash, every bit identical to the first blow, and let out a
banshee screech that amused some of the spectators.
"It's amazing that these little wooden balls no larger than
a small marble can cause so much pain to a boy's balls," Mr.
Pike wryly observed.
But again, Marc's leg remained properly elevated. In fact,
it stayed elevated until the ninth blow, which showed almost
superhuman endurance and determination, but then, when that
stroke landed, the boy's leg dropped almost all the way to
the table. The crowd observed what happened with oohs and
awes. Marc brought his leg right back up again, hoping
against all hope that no one had noticed, and he awaited
whack number ten as if nothing out of the ordinary had
occurred, but it was too late.
"Oh well. I guess you couldn't do it. I will admit that your
effort was better than some boys in the same situation, but
we don't give out consolation prizes here at Longwood.
You've earned one of my favorite extreme punishments � a
little procedure that we've catalogued as BB16. At this
cruel mention, there were more murmurs and gestures of
approval � as many guests in the large chamber � but not
Marc -- most certainly not Marc -- knew exactly what that
code meant.
*
After Marc had been subjected to his painful "ball-beating,"
the invited guests and Mr. Pike and Mr. Stone and the
various security personnel left for a brief intermission.
Marc, still nude, was left on his back and shackled by the
wrists and ankles to the long table. His toenails still
throbbed occasionally from the bamboo treatment, but his
groin area was only a little sore, although he could
remember every time that the wooden beads had struck his
sensitive testicles. He thought, it'd be a miracle if I'm
still able to cum and make kids someday. But the pain had
definitely ebbed. Mostly now Marc's attention was devoted to
what punishment, an "extreme" punishment called BB16,
actually consisted of. The boy wasn't anxious to find out,
and figured that it would probably hurt a great deal. He'd
be right about that.
*
A few minutes later, the invited guests including the board
members of the Longwood Reform School began filing back in
to the basement chamber. Mr. Pike and Mr. Stone and three
security guards, all Longwood staff, were the last to
arrive. "We're back!" Mr. Pike quipped. He seemed in a jolly
mood, Marc thought, which can't be good. I hate this place!
Marc screamed inside his head. His stomach was suddenly in
knots again as the boy's anxiety and terror began to return.
Small beads of sweat appeared from the nervousness on the
boy's forehead. He tried nodding off, trying to remove
himself from his surroundings by napping. Such a ploy was
certainly futile.
"I need you wide awake, young man. It's time for your
punishment. I can guarantee you won't be enjoying this one!"
At a signal from Mr. Pike, Mr. Stone unshackled Marc, and he
was instructed to change position. "I want you to get on
your tummy, and bend your knees. I want your feet in the
air. Get them up!"
There was a murmur of recognition from the audience as the
boy complied. Marc was thinking, oh no, the bastard is going
to put that sharp piece of bamboo under my toenails again!
Only he wasn't, for the time being at least.
Mr. Pike began to handle Marc's bare feet, and to describe
them. "He is a muscular good-looking boy, with sturdy well-
formed feet for a 13-year-old. He has long tapering toes,
and the areas underneath his toenails are no doubt still
sore. Do you want me to have another go with the bamboo
under your toenails? How about it boy?"
"No, I don't want you to!" Marc said in a loud anxious
voice. He didn't want to go through that kind of pain again
� ever. But there are infinite varieties of excruciating
pain.
"Don't worry, we need to punish your feet in a different
way. Maybe the BB16 will consist of my breaking all of your
toes using a pair of pliers. Would you like me to do that to
you boy?
"No! No! Oh no please sir, don't do that!"
The audience laughed at the boy's anxiety and desperate
pleas. They knew what the BB16 punishment really was.
"Don't worry about that young man. The breaking of a boy's
toes is a punishment reserved for repeat absconders. It's
pretty grisly really. We break the miscreant's toes one by
one, pausing for about 30 seconds or longer between each toe
to make the boy think about it. But no, we won't be doing
that to you this evening."
Marc exhaled, breathing an enormous sigh of relief. His
relief was a bit premature as it worked out.
"Do you know what the BB16 punishment is?" Mr. Pike was
enjoying his little game.
Marc didn't really want to know. "No sir!"
Mr. Pike began to touch Marc's feet again, it felt pleasant,
almost like a foot massage. His Dad had given him foot
massages, back at home, usually just before bedtime, and up
until just a few months ago. He wanted to be home more than
just about anything. He thought about clicking his bare
heels together three times, like Dorothy had to get home to
Kansas, when she needed to escape from Oz.
"This boy has a lot of muscle in his feet, and some callous
to get through too, and as some of you are aware, to keep
the five-day healing period on track, the needle has to be
pushed through his flesh precisely, slowly, and at the most
advantageous angle. It's a red-hot needle, which admittedly
will enhance the boy's terror effect and his pain, but we
know from experience that infection seldom sets in, with a
hot needle, as the instrument is sterilized."
"You're going to stick a red-hot needle into my foot? No,
you can't do that! You can't!" Marc began whimpering from
sheer fright. This pain would go beyond the kind that might
be endured through tightly gritted teeth. Marc was starting
to shake a little from fear, and he still didn't realize the
extent of it.
"We will insert the needle in a moment through his sensitive
ball of his left foot, on the lower portion of it. They'll
be some bleeding, and if he doesn't faint, he'll soon be
screaming his lungs out." Mr. Stone handed Mr. Pike the red
glowing needle, almost a one-eighth inch bore with a
convenient handle on one end so that Mr. Pike wouldn't burn
his own fingers. Yes, the needle had been heated. The
instrument of BB16's execution was shown to the boy about to
be punished. Mr. Pike walked around to where the boy
couldn't see him, near to where his feet were at the other
end of the table. They were starting to sag, and Mr. Stone
firmly grasped Marc's left calf to keep his foot from wildly
gyrating.
"Hold his leg firmly, Mr. Stone. These kids have pretty
strong legs and we can't have much motion. I don't want to
make an error with the needle."
"Don't worry, Mr. Pike. I can get his leg steady."
"You'd better. He's going to try and kick. That will only
make it worse for him. Marc, is the ball of your foot
particularly sensitive? I'm going to push the needle through
your sole on your left foot, right through the lower part of
the ball. I have to push the needle's point hard, and it has
to go all the way through your foot, and come out the other
side on top of your foot below the large toe, in the muscle
there. I have to do it very slowly so as I don't make a
mistake and make this worse than it should be for you.
Sorry, you let your feet drop during the ball-bashing
punishment."
Marc now realized the enormity of it, and managed only a
whiney sort of continuous whimper. He heard Mr. Pike, and
understood, but did not respond. Mr. Pike didn't actually
need a response. He was playing to the invited Longwood
guests and to the other adults and staff in the well-lit
punishment chamber. "Should I show this kid mercy? Is that
the Longwood way?"
"No!" answered at least a dozen voices. "The needle! Push it
all the way in � and through!"
It was like a chorus from Hell as far as Marc was concerned.
No more hideous chant was possible he thought at that
moment. These bastards were really about to do something
terrible to his foot.
Marc could feel Mr. Stone's strong hands, both of them,
encircling his calf muscle. Mr. Pike had strong hands too,
Marc was certain. He started squirming, trying to show
resistance, and began violently kicking, but Mr. Stone's
hand, probably his left, grasped the boy's left foot quite
firmly at the instep, below the sensitive ball where the
sharp red-hot needle needed to go.
Mr. Pike teased the boy for a few seconds, as the red-hot
needle's tip and its heat contacted Marc's bare skin all
over the ball of his foot, gliding so it burned and so that
the 13-year-old to be punished was aware of the needle,
wherever it was. It hurt, but not as much as it would in
just a few seconds. Marc braced himself for what he knew
would be horrific in the extreme. But Mr. Pike stopped at
the entry point, pausing. Then, suddenly, he plunged. The
needle began penetrating at a slight angle directly into
Marc's sole. Marc bucked again with his foot, and screamed
and bawled in sheer pain, sheer terror. It was like a
continuous scream, practically primal. Excruciatingly
slowly, at a snail's pace, Mr. Pike pushed the hot needle
deeper into the boy's tissue. "It has at least a quarter-
inch to go, to come out the other side!" Mr. Pike was
yelling too. "Hold his leg steady, Mr. Stone. Don't move
your leg boy. Keep it still! Still!"
The crowd continued their Hellish chanting. "Push it into
his foot! All the way in! No mercy! No mercy!"
Finally, after almost another full three minutes had passed,
Mr. Pike managed to pierce the needle all the way through
the miscreant's foot.
Marc just kept sobbing. It hurt an incredible amount. A
little blood trickled out of both the entry and the exit
wounds.
*
Marc made the incorrect assumption that BB-16 had been
concluded. He let his feet relax, although his left foot
with the big needle inserted in his sole through the ball
throbbed terribly, and he kept changing its position to
relieve the continuing pain. He went off in a daze for a few
seconds until Mr. Pike spoke again.
"What? What are you doing boy? Keep those feet up! You're
not through with this punishment � not by a long shot!
Didn't you know that it's time for your right foot? To
finish BB-16 we do the exact same thing to your right foot
as we did to your left."
"No!" Marc yelled. "No sir! You can't sir!"
"I can and I will. Also, just because of that little
unnecessary and futile outburst, we're going to enhance your
punishment a little bit. Everyone, watch the close up cam on
the big screen � it will keep panning to his face � probably
lots of tears � and to his right foot � whose sole is about
to get some special attention!"
Mr. Pike promptly pulled out another red-hot needle from its
receptacle. This one was positively glowing. He showed it to
the terrified boy. "We'd better get on with the show, ready
for some more pain young man?"
"No, no, please! Please don't sir! You don't have to do
this, do you?"
"Yes, I do. It's all according to the Longwood punishment
code. I can't alter that code for you � it can't be done �
it wouldn't be fair to other boys who've been punished � or
those to be punished! Do you understand?"
Marc didn't know what to say. Mr. Pike's question might have
been rhetorical anyway.
There was a groundswell of audible approval murmurs and
everyone's eyes looked up to the vividly clear high
definition big screen. It was the newest technology.
Marc felt the needle's sharp point on the sole of his right
foot. Mr. Pike was doing something different this time.
Beginning right on Marc's toes on their sensitive
undersides, he began tracing a line of mild burns. It hurt,
as the needle was hot and the line of pink flesh grew,
clearly visible on the exciting close-up cam's high
definition big screen. Its real purpose was to draw out the
boy's fright, as although this hurt, it was only mild
burning and it would eventually lead to the needle plunging
through the tissue all the way through his right foot �
entering in the lower portion of the sensitive ball. In a
way, the needle was merely teasing Marc for now. The lines
of pink flesh, along with the slightly acrid smell of the
boy's right sole burning, advanced along the miscreant's
foot. Mr. Pike traced the needle's point in-between each of
Marc's well formed toes, and then down his instep toward his
heel. From the heel, Mr. Pike began a new pink line in the
opposite direction back up the 13-year-old's sole, toward
his toes, and he repeated these geometric patterns several
times. Marc was quietly sobbing the entire time.
Although the audience was enjoying this preliminary, a bonus
to their entertainment, the needle was not penetrating the
boy's skin, and the crowd was anxiously awaiting the main
event. They were a bloodthirsty bunch � by occupation most
were warmongers and also selfish in the extreme.
Finally, the moment the boy had been dreading arrived. Mr.
Pike paused in the precise spot where the entry wound in the
ball of Marc's left foot had been made, and the sharp needle
plunged into Marc's right sole without warning. It hurt
incredibly, as every potential nerve ending had been
sensitized.
"Yeowhh! That kills! That kills!" The punished boy couldn't
help screaming, and he sobbed and bawled, as the needle's
sharp point slowly penetrated deeper, deeper, into the kid's
tissue. This time with Mr. Pike's gory work, there was a bit
more blood than there'd been on Marc's left foot. Mr. Pike
took almost three and a half minutes force the needle to
penetrate all the way through -- out to near the bottom of
Marc's big toe on the other side � on the top side of Marc's
now injured right foot. The audience had been aptly watching
the needle's slow progress as it inched through Marc's right
foot, along with the attendant sound effects produced by the
punished boy. It was grand theatre, thought many who had
come to witness such sanctioned cruelty -- well worth the
price of admission.
They let the sobbing boy rest for a few minutes when the BB-
16 ordeal was finally over. Again, Marc can't be faulted for
incorrectly assuming the best. He surely didn't expect
something called the BB-18.
It wasn't a sure thing, this extra punishment.
Theoretically, this time, according to the Longwood code,
those present in the audience were supposed to vote on
whether it was actually meted out to poor Marc Sebastian.
Occasionally, the threat of it was deemed enough to scare
the punished kid.
"What say you on BB-18? It's not mandatory, but
discretionary. It's up to you in attendance paying to
witness these proceedings tonight. Again, what say you?"
"BB-18?" Marc gasped, again with the sheer terror of what
that might be. "No, you can't," he said, almost in a whisper
of fright, not even caring what it was. But they could.
*
It was a voice vote and a show of hands, and it was
surprisingly close. Perhaps some of Marc's squalling had
softened some of the more softhearted in the audience. But
by a plurality of two, Mr. Pike and Mr. Stone permitted the
go-ahead for the next extreme punishment, with a healing
time of 4-5 days indicated in the book. This is not to
indicate a complete and thorough restoration. That would
take a few more days depending on the individual boy, and
his individual immune system, but at any rate, Marc would be
allocated up to a fortnight in the Longwood infirmary, and
he'd be incarcerated for another eight months, so what did a
day or two matter?
To Marc it mattered.
"It's only another needle through each foot," Mr. Pike told
the boy dismissively, as if to reassure him.
It was. Another red-hot needle, this one inserted through
the geographic center of his left foot, through his bare
sole at the middle of his instep, and then out through the
instep muscle on the top of that foot.
This time, the half-hour twin procedure began with less
fanfare, although every agonizing aspect of the punishment
was monitored by some eighty eyes, forty people watching the
high definition big screen, and for sound effects there were
more screams from the boy as the needle was very slowly
pushed through. Again, Marc sobbed himself nearly hoarse, as
might be expected. His feet were still raised bravely in the
air. He lay on his stomach in the required posture for
punishment. This execution of a painful Longwood coded
remedy was intensely satisfying to the law-and-order prudes
within the guests in the chamber, as at least the thirteen-
year-old was not escaping his just desserts.
When a similar red-hot needle, mercifully the last he would
suffer through his soles, was pushed through the tender
tissue of his right instep, some in the audience might have
detected a faint trace of resignation in the boy. The
excruciating progress of the needle, however, still caused
Marc to scream himself nearly hoarse.
Another short break occurred next, as a lengthy schedule of
punishments, including the main events, remained.
Perverts in the audience especially relished the next
punishment. "We have him nicely naked for the branding of
his anus," Mr. Pike proclaimed.
The branding of the anus was a Longwood tradition going back
nearly six years, traced to the onset of the Bush
Administration. The style of the punishment as executed at
Longwood was admired by torturers, American and otherwise,
and had been adopted at numerous sites worldwide, although
elsewhere it was more commonly visited upon adult anuses.
"Spread your legs wider," Mr. Pike intoned. Marc was now
spread-eagled on his stomach, lying flat on the hard table.
Mr. Stone secured the naked boy's wrists and ankles so that
he wouldn't squirm unnecessarily.
The brand, located at the end of what resembled a three-foot
long fireplace poker, was circular and nicely embossed with
the Longwood logo. According to the specifications of this
ordeal, the one-inch- in-diameter poker tip was to penetrate
about a half-inch into the boy's anus, just enough so that
"he'll remember it for a few days when he takes a crap," as
Mr. Stone crudely put it. Its length of stay, thirty-eight
seconds, was also prescribed, and this was deemed most
effective.
Again, the tip of the newly prescribed intruder was glowing,
but even hotter, almost white-hot. A liberal or bleeding
heart might have detected a demonic glint in Mr. Pike's eyes
as he advanced holding the instrument of pain. Marc's
rounded still boyish buttocks seemed especially vulnerable,
but in-between those rosy cheeks beckoned the target
rosebud, looking soft and delicate as perceived by some in
the audience raptly viewing the big screen close up.
Marc could feel the heat of the thing approaching. Once
again, he was terrified and whimpering, braced for the pain.
Why can't they just brand my butt, the boy mused, why does
it have to be my asshole? The poker moved inexorably closer.
Soon, it was six inches away and already beginning to roast
the miscreant's cheeks.
But a second or two later, Mr. Pike ruthlessly plunged the
poker tip in-between Marc's nether cheeks. His anus was
getting seared.
"Yeowwh!"
Marc lasted twenty-three seconds before he fainted from the
burning pain. He had to be revived with smelling salts. His
asshole throbbed and hurt horribly, but at least that horrid
punishment was a fait accompli.
When he came to, Mr. Pike and Mr. Stone were turning him
over and refastening his wrists and ankles. Now the nude
Marc lay spread-eagled on his back, sore in many places but
blinking from the harsh light.
"It's about time for the main events," Mr. Pike's basso
profundo boomed.
*
It began with an almost pleasant tingly feeling. Mr. Pike
was gently massaging Marc's penis to erection. The miracle
was that despite what his body had already endured, his
pubertal-aged organ was responding. Marc was helpless to
stop it, despite feeling unbelievable anger at the lecherous
laughs and guffaws he was hearing all around him. To make it
shamefully worse, Mr. Pike was blithely describing his penis
in all its glory.
"This boy's cock is a long one for his age � close to five
inches erect, a bit over four inches flaccid, and you can
tell his treasured toy is enjoying this attention." But the
fondling wasn't being performed to give his penis pleasure.
"He is just beginning a light growth of brunette pubic
hairs. We should have plucked those out with tweezers, but I
apologize to all of you. We just don't have time, as we're
running behind schedule." There was an audible murmur of
disappointment.
*
"It has to be prepared inside and out -- for its eventual
beating," Mr. Pike explained. "At Longwood, we first execute
a series of little preparatory ordeals to make sure his
organ is really sensitized. The key is to prevent the kind
of lewd behavior that occasioned him to be here with us
tonight in the first place � although we're all enjoying
this young man's company immensely." That particular line
brought an explosion of raucous laughter. Mr. Pike was
somewhat of a showman and liked to laugh at his own jokes.
Altogether, he possessed a rather despicable personality.
When Marc's hardon was stroked just right, it was time for
something completely different. Mr. Pike explained. "We'll
begin with the preps now."
*
"The first preparation is fun to watch on the big screen,
but pretty unnerving to these boys when it needs to be done.
This boy's getting it as part of his punishment, and it
involves one of our special Q-tips customized for our needs
here at Longwood."
With one strong hand, Mr. Pike grasped Marc's pretty
thirteen-year-old cock just below its circumcised head.
"First, we have to sensitize the inside of your piss-slit,"
he said to Marc loud enough so that everyone could hear.
"No, no sir, please don't," Marc pleaded. He didn't know
exactly what this meant, but he didn't want to find out.
Already, the boy emitted a few plaintive whimpers.
"Be quiet boy. It has to be done. It won't really hurt much,
just feel mighty unpleasant."
He held a customized Q-tip in the other hand, and with his
other, opened up the boy's peehole just as a practice
gesture. Mr. Pike held up the Q-tip for a moment so that
Marc might see it. "Yes, here at Longwood, we have these Q-
tips specially made. They contain Bylaxoil -- an abrasive
ingredient mixed in with the cotton tip. Like cotton and
sandpaper together, but it's also a potent antiseptic and
somewhat acidic." Mr. Pike failed to suppress a cruel laugh.
Once again, Mr. Pike lifted Marc's cock, holding the
cockhead up straight. Once again, he squeezed Marc's glans
so that his piss lips re-opened, like a tiny gaping mouth.
This time, he inserted the Q-tip and twirled it.
Marc thought he would lose his mind. It was into his urethra
only a little bit, maybe a quarter inch, yet it was already
having an effect as the thirteen-year-old bolted and
squirmed mightily on the table. The sensation was like when
tickling on your feet is so bad it turns to pain � only a
thousand times worse � a burning, itching, and scraping
feeling. Mr. Pike kept inserting the Q-tip deeper into the
kid's urethra, until he had about an inch of it inside, and
then shoved it further as far as it would go � as the boy
writhed on the table almost delirious from the unpleasant
sensation. "Yeah!" Mr. Pike whispered, "We're getting the
whole inside of your dick nice and sensitive." Mr. Pike took
out the first specially coated Q-tip and Mr. Stone promptly
handed him another. He needed to get a generous dollop of
Bylaxoil into the boy's urethra so that a subsequent
punishment to be experienced by Marc inside the penis might
have its maximum effect, and still the potential for
infection might be minimized. Marc hated this experience, as
it felt like he wanted to scratch the urethral walls inside
his penis raw with his own fingernails, only this was of
course impossible. "Please, get that shit out of my cock,"
the boy begged, "Please sir." Tears were running down his
cheeks. Another description was that it felt like bugs
crawling around endlessly inside his dick, up and down, up
and down, a crawling sensation that wouldn't quit. Even
after the Q-tips were physically removed, the Bylaxoil's
miserable effect failed to lessen in the slightest, acting
as an irritant as it was intended. "I can't stand it!" Marc
cried, almost a shriek.
Mr. Pike gently fondled the miscreant's cock again, which
only seemed to intensify the unnerving sensation. "You do
not like this so far, do you boy?"
"No!" Marc yelled.
Speaking of sandpaper, Mr. Pike was soon handed a piece of
that material too, each to its purpose. "Now it's time to
sandpaper Marc's entire glans." Again, Mr. Pike held up the
boy's cock with three fingers of his left hand, and with his
right held the small sheet of coarse-grade sandpaper. "What
we have to do is generally abrade the boy's dickhead, so
that it's red and raw. This procedure hurts quite a bit too,
as this is a plenty sensitive part of a boy's anatomy. We're
about to make Marc's glans even more sensitive, much more in
fact. We do it like this." Mr. Stone patted Marc's bare
lower belly for some peculiar reason, maybe just because he
could. He next tickled Marc's belly lightly with his
fingernails. Mr. Pike wasn't having ALL the fun. Mr. Stone
had decided to get in on it too. Assistants need occasional
perks.
Mr. Pike repeated. "As I said, we do it like this." Mr.
Pike was now sandpapering Marc's circumcised dickhead with
short hard strokes. "We've found that 75 strokes works quite
well, giving us the desired effect. We've discovered this
fact with 13-year-old boys by trial and error � a lot of
punishments through the years, 14-year-olds can be a little
tougher and tend to need a few more � maybe 80 strokes."
Between each brush with sandpaper rubbing against the
exposed tender head of Marc's dick, Mr. Pike waited about
ten to fifteen seconds so that Marc could "properly
anticipate the pain." The boy was bawling continuously
again, he couldn't help it. With one hand, Mr. Pike gently
but firmly held his tortured penis in place, with the other,
the abrasive sandpaper seemed relentless and never ending.
"I can tell you he's not enjoying this in the slightest."
Each time the sandpaper scraped against the thirteen-year-
old's bare glans, the boy couldn't help but emit a little
yelp. "When we do this to one of these inmates, it's just as
if we were masturbating them with the sandpaper. It's not
very pleasant � his glans is getting nice and raw now. By
the time I'm through with him, his cockhead will be so
sensitive that the slightest touch even with my finger � a
gentle touch or little pinch -- will send him into
hysterics."
"We also don't bother with sandpapering the rest of the
penis, it seems almost redundant. Doing the dickhead is
quite sufficient for our purposes."
When the glans was reddened and raw looking enough after the
75 strokes had been completed; Mr. Stone wanted to use the
sandpaper on other sensitive areas.
"I like to do their nipples and super-sensitize those," Mr.
Stone said. Soon Marc was gritting his teeth, as his nipples
were rubbed raw too. Mr. Stone was again getting into the
spirit of the torture.
For good measure, Mr. Stone was allowed to abrade a few more
areas on Marc's sides and lower belly, just above the boy's
pelvis. But this seemed like overkill to some in the
audience.
*
They wanted to get on with the good stuff. For interested
members of the audience, Mr. Pike passed around a little
plastic bag with another extremely thin cylindrical metallic
object inside. There were jagged protrusions all over the
four-inch long thing, tiny but effective in its sinister
purpose, making the object resemble a metallic man-forged
version of a thorny twig, and that's precisely what it was
intended to be. "We experimented a lot with this tool," Mr.
Pike admitted, "our research and development wing tends to
leave no stone unturned. But a natural twig or cactus branch
would contain biological impurities and be difficult to
sterilize, and most such objects, when inserted into a boy's
urethra for punishment purposes, tend to hurt a lot more
when being pulled out, rather than upon insertion. We needed
something that would cause excruciating pain when going in,
as well as when being pulled out. Right Marc?" He looked at
the boy who now knew exactly what was going to be happening
next. "How does the inside of your dick feel right now?" Mr.
Pike asked the miscreant.
"Pretty good, except that it itches from that stuff you put
in there, sir" Marc replied, somewhat evasively, figured Mr.
Pike and Mr. Stone. They knew that the boy had to be
understating the awful sensation inside his dick that must
still be driving the kid to distraction, even if he was
trying to ignore it. "C'mon, I don't think that you're being
completely honest with us. Wouldn't you like me to relieve
that awful itch inside your penis? That itch that's
impossible to scratch?"
"No, not with that thing Mr. Pike. Please don't put that
awful thing up inside me."
"Sorry, have to. This is one of your significant
punishments. It's not optional for you tonight. It's
mandatory. I'm going to insert the thorny cylinder into your
piss lips � all the way in, and then keep pulling it all the
way out. This will tear you up inside � seven days estimated
healing time. Your punishment calls for fifty full
insertions, and fifty full pullouts. Should hurt like hell �
and cause you lots of excruciating pain."
"No, please. You can't sir! Mr. Pike, please don't do this
to me. I'll be a good boy, I promise!"
"Sorry, too late for your pleading now. Let's begin."
The audience was watching for blood on the big screen close
up. Some of them were almost salivating with sadistic
pleasure and anticipation.
Mr. Pike brought the jagged edged cylinder to the raw
looking glans of the boy, touching it, causing Marc to
nearly climb the walls as his cockhead was now that
sensitive. He teased Marc, circling his peehole several
times, maybe a dozen times. Slowly, he began inserting the
cruel thing into the boy's cock. "Owwh, Yeowwh, that kills,
please, no more, no more!" The boy was screaming now,
screaming in pain.
"All the way in, it has to go all the way in."
The sadistic onlookers began another chant. "All the way
in, all the way in," they gleefully repeated.
All the way in, the object's jagged little projections would
catch on the boy's ultra-sensitive urethral tissue, as it
was being painfully forced through, deeper into the boy's
cock. It was true. Soon Marc forgot about the horrid itchy
crawly sensation. All that now pushed through his
consciousness was a wall of unbelievable pain. The boy had
never believed anything could hurt so much! When the object
had been forced virtually its entire length, about four
inches, it then needed to be slowly and just as painfully
pulled out. "One," Mr. Pike finally said, after an ordeal
that took close to three minutes but seemed like an eternity
to the boy. "Okay, you have to thank me now, so that I can
start the next insertion."
Marc just lay there, numbed with pain, his head rocking from
side to side, his needle-studded feet and toes contorting,
every muscle in his body tensed with the Spartan's will to
endure.
"You have to thank me, boy, or else your punishment is
automatically increased to 75 insertions and pullouts where
you don't have to thank me. It's up to you, kid."
Marc couldn't believe what he was hearing, but realized that
he was trapped again. He didn't want anything added to this
grisly punishment. "Thank you sir," he managed, so that the
ordeal would continue, but so that nothing further would be
added on.
The jagged metallic cylinder entered his cock again. Marc
thought he would pass out from the extreme pain, but somehow
he didn't. The cylinder was snaking its way in again, all
the way in, then Mr. Pike began to slowly pull the thing
out. Little bits of blood and tissue came out with it.
"Two," Mr. Pike said, loud enough with his distinctive basso
profundo to be heard above the din of the boy's continuous
shrieks, cries, and wailing.
"Thank you sir," the boy said, always being coerced into
saying those same two polite words. When the ordeal was
over, and Mr. Pike finally uttered the magical "Fifty," it
was about an hour and a half later.
Next, Mr. Pike and Mr. Stone took turns fondling the
miscreant's cock with the jagged cylinder imbedded inside.
Both men took care to scratch their fingernails gently over
the boy's sandpapered glans while also squeezing and
palpating against all the jagged points of the embedded
cylinder so that the penis massage would hurt all the more,
again with the boy nearly fainting from the excruciating
pain. "I don't think he likes to have his penis massaged,"
remarked Mr. Pike. Marc loudly sobbed throughout.
Afterwards, the one hundred strokes with a very light gauge
but sharp pointed cane seemed almost anticlimactic to the
boy, as the measured flogging caused red welts and bruises
from Marc's chest down to the front of his calves. He
remained conscious throughout the caning, and each stroke
was calculated to land on Marc's chest, belly, pelvic area,
thighs, and legs � or his beleaguered penis.
Finally, as the audience began to disperse, and it was
almost midnight. The ordeal of Marc Sebastian had
mercifully come to an end.
*
Marc Sebastian was immediately carried up to the Longwood
infirmary. Once there, all four needles were brutally
extracted from his feet without painkillers by a thoughtless
male nurse. Soon the 13-year-old began his recuperation
while resting in a comfortable bed after finally being given
a sedative to ease the pain.
He needed ten full days in the infirmary to heal completely,
but heal completely he did. He didn't even display any
significant scarring when the attending physician, Dr. Paar,
pronounced the boy fit to rejoin his dorm mates, Richard
Prulem and David Frolinger.
Dr. Paar was a thirty something blond Adonis whom some of
the homoeroticized inmates had developed crushes on. It was
difficult for at least some of the boys to NOT be inverted
toward a gay lifestyle in such an institution as Longwood
although this effect may not have been intentional, as some
of the cruelest most perverted staffers were also extremely
repressed.
*
All three young dorm mates did their best to stay out of
trouble while serving the remainder of their sentences.
Unfortunately, the deck was stacked against any boy who
attempted to go straight.
Marc Sebastian's body had healed, but he had been scarred
psychologically and emotionally by his ordeals, and to some
extent, this was true for Richard and David too � although
their absconding ordeal, in and of itself, paled in
comparison to what Marc had endured. All three inmates did
their best to fit into the Longwood routine, trying in their
adolescent naivet� to deliberately become
"institutionalized."
It was a harsh daily regime. Wake up for morning ablutions
and showers occurred at 5:45 a.m. sharp, an annoying
awakening signaled by eleven loudly trilling bells. Once
clean, the boys from each of the eleven dormitories were
obliged to gather in the unheated gymnasium naked and
barefoot for bodily inspection even in winter at precisely
6:10 a.m. The cruel overseers severely punished even
trifling hygienic infractions, including the sometimes
circumstance of an errant boy failing to entirely dry
himself. (Lights out had been at 10:15 p.m. the previous
evening.) Breakfast, a wholesome meal, started at 7:10 a.m.
and if a boy was even a few minutes tardy, he was allowed to
eat, but given a painful or humiliating minor punishment.
The Longwood staff appeared to delight in meting out those
too.
Regular lessons featured state of Maine offerings mandated
by the national No Child Left Behind Act, and these mirrored
a typical in-state middle school schedule-wise. The
exception was gym. It was a Longwood tenet that if a boy
forgot his gym trunks or T-shirt or socks or sneakers and
seemed unprepared by opening bell (another obnoxious trill);
the offender was forced to take gym in the nude! He also
knew that a sound thrashing on his bare butt and thighs
awaited him when the class ended. Additional gym
punishments, doled out at the sadistic gym instructor's
discretion for repeated infractions, (worse during a brutal
Maine coast winter) might entail up to five laps around the
outdoor athletic field while naked and barefoot � a truly
Spartan exercise. One boy, a cute blonde-haired blue-eyed
twelve-year-old named Simon from the dorm room right next to
Marc, Richard, and David's room, was punished with three
such "birthday suit" laps required of him during a heavy
February snowstorm! He came back inside looking like a
living snow boy but in his youthful resilience otherwise
none the worse for wear. "Invigorating," he told David
Frolinger, making a joke out of it.
Other idiosyncrasies awaiting the Longwood charges were
mandatory inclusion in the institution's "current roster"
album and a generous sub-regime of after school activities.
The after school activities were modeled after a hideous
program originated at the Youth Correctional Facilities in
the State of Texas. They were supposed to be "electives,"
engaged in as a voluntary measure, but this proved quite
disingenuous, as the inmates at the Maine school were
similarly forced to choose among several miserable
alternatives, all abusive in their way. Each boy at Longwood
could choose his "favorite" after school electives, but was
required to take two during any given semester. Failure to
register for and satisfactorily complete two electives
resulted in an automatic major punishment session, and every
boy knew it. While the subject matter of electives verged on
the peculiar, it was devised by either Longwood staff or by
the reform school's board of directors. Electives with
participating inmates were often videotaped while in
progress and sent to interested parties as a kind of
exploitive entertainment.
*
Twelve-year-old Richard Prulem made the mistake of signing
up for "Tactile Sensation Fun" which was advertised in the
Longwood Blogger, the closest thing to a journalistic effort
at the reform school. All the electives were displayed in
the Blogger. Richard was reading the promo for the electives
while David and Marc were with him in their room. "Guys? Do
you think I should sign up for this one? They need a 12-
year-old, a guy my age, in a class full of 14-year-olds, and
he has to be at least moderately ticklish. I'm real
ticklish."
"Gee, I don't know. It'd be a class full of 14-year-olds
except for you. That doesn't sound too good. I wouldn't if I
were you," Marc warned. "Some of those guys are pretty
tough. They might end up butt-fucking you."
"I don't think so. It's not a sexual class," Richard
countered.
"Oh go ahead. You probably won't even get picked," David
told him, "There's just the one person they need."
*
Richard did get picked. He might have been one of the few
newbies even inquiring about the class. It lasted for seven
sessions and was videotaped with a digital camera and also
available on DVD. Nine other 14-year-olds had enrolled in
the class, held in one of the more isolated chambers of the
basement's dungeon. They'd needed a "ticklee" or a boy to
tickle unmercifully, with each session worse than the
previous one for poor Richard. It was a recipe for school-
condoned bullying. But "all" they would do was tickle him in
various body areas, and then record notes of Richard's
reactions in their science notebooks. Boy ticklers were
obliged to use their bare fingers or toes to do the
tickling. Mr. Moore, a tall skinny staffer who typically
taught algebra, got to supervise. It turned out to be kind
of sadistic, Richard realized in retrospect.
*
Richard made it to Tactile Sensation Fun right on time. He
liked being punctual.
"The ticklee is here," said Brad, a husky 140-pound teen who
looked to Richard like he enjoyed lifting weights. African-
American, he also displayed what appeared to be a street
gang insignia tattooed into his left forearm.
Most of the 14-year-olds were bulkier and muscular compared
to littler Richard, and all were a lot stronger. They stared
at him like predators eyeing prey. This is going to be fun
for THEM Richard mused.
Mr. Moore was less amused and all business. "Take your shirt
off and let's get started," he said. Richard was also less
amused and immediately began having second thoughts.
He was first told to lie on his stomach on one of those
body-length hard tables, somewhat like a massage table.
Three boys would have at him at a time, first his bare back
and what their fingers and fingernails could reach of his
rib cage from the rear. One boy chose to use his feet as
tickling devices, especially his sharp uncut toenails. He'd
position himself so this feat of relative dexterity might be
better accomplished. Within ten minutes, the shifts of
changing threesomes had Richard almost hysterical with
laughter. His ribs hurt a bit, but by the time they ceased
the tickling after about forty minutes, he found the session
even kind of fun. The last fifty minutes the fourteen-year-
olds spent writing their reports. All Richard had to do each
session was lie there and get tickled. It seemed easy at
first. He was only moderately ticklish on that part of his
body apparently.
Session two he had to keep his shirt off again. It was
identical except that Richard was made to lie on his back.
But now the aggressive young teenagers had Richard's bare
chest and belly to tickle unmercifully, and the most
ticklish parts along his delicate ribs. Worse, when he
screamed for his ticklers to stop, to let him have a break,
they didn't. Mr. Moore said only that they could tickle
until HE told them to stop, as he was supervising.
Session three opened up a new area of Richard for tickling.
"Take off your shoes and socks, so they can tickle your
feet," Mr. Moore said nonchalantly. Richard discovered that
his bare feet were really ticklish, especially his soles.
Those fingers, so many fingers, didn't miss a ticklish spot.
Meanwhile, he was still lying on his back shirtless and so
session two's body area was still fair game. It was now
permitted that up to six boys in various tag teams might
tickle any of Richard's potentially ticklish spots that were
unclothed. THEY were certainly enjoying themselves.
Session Four opened up Richard's bare legs. "Take off your
pants," Mr. Moore said. Richard was still placed on his
back, now clothed in just a skimpy pair of white briefs.
Session Five put Richard on his stomach again, but without
his briefs. His legs were spread out so that the probing
fingers could explore Richard's anus and prostate regions
for ticklish spots.
Session Six kept Richard nude, but turned him over on his
back again. Now his penis and balls were added to the
regions being tickled unmercifully. Now all nine 14-year-
olds became his ticklers going for any ticklish spots they
could find simultaneously. By this time, Richard was
laughing so hard that he started crying. Still they wouldn't
stop. Mr. Moore suggested they even start using Q-tips
coated with a maddeningly ticklish substance, and inserting
those sometimes two or three at a time into his peehole.
Eventually, a few minutes before the class ended, Mr. Moore
finally allowed one of the 14-year-old inmates to mercifully
stick another Q-tip into his penis that had a soothing, non-
itch solution coating it. That was Longwood's tickling
"elective!"
*
But what Richard NEVER should have signed up for was a cruel
"elective" aptly called DOGGY SEX. Richard signed up for it
for a stupid reason too. He had a tiny pet poodle named
Prince back at home. Richard missed his pet dog a lot. But
the specially trained large dogs in this class weren't much
like Richard's docile pet. Richard never would have even
thought of doing with Prince what he was told to do with
these animals.
*
There were six boys signed up for DOGGY SEX. It was the
least popular of all the sexual content "electives" that the
Longwood inmates had to choose from. Richard soon discovered
why.
*
This fiendish "elective" was held in the most distant part
of the Longwood complex, in the basement but also in the
most remote corner of the dungeon area where punishments
were sometimes held. While DOGGY SEX didn't officially
qualify as a punishment, it typically turned out to be quite
an ordeal for any boy who signed up for it. A serious and
unfortunate accident had occurred to one now mutilated- -
for-life inmate three years previously, and consequently,
one breed of vicious dog � pit bulls -- were no longer used
in the elective. Dogs that were used in this physically
demanding elective were bad enough. Three large dogs,
Archie, Tiger, and Ralph, all former police dogs (although
Ralph had also been employed as a cadaver dog) were
available for these sessions. All had received the most
recent six months of special training to be versed in all
applicable forms of Dog-on-Boy, and Boy-on-Dog sex.
Archie was a German Shepard who liked to bark and looked
meaner than the other two. Tiger was a Great Dane who also
had the worst odor of the three and was the most difficult
dog to keep clean. Ralph was a Doberman who liked to nip and
bite, even while playing sex games. So far Ralph hadn't
injured any boy too seriously. Mr. Moriarty, who taught
geography at Longwood and was an expert dog trainer and
former canine patrol officer, was a big burly man who sort
of resembled a human mastiff and took care to monitor Ralph
very closely. The boys should try to avoid any overt
displays of fear, he'd warn repeatedly. None of the three
dogs used in the elective that semester weighed less than 80
pounds. All three weighed nearly as much as any of the young
inmates enrolled. All the dogs were males, like the six
boys.
Richard Prulem was about middle of the "boy" pack size-wise.
One of two twelve-year-olds who had signed up, he was then
about five feet tall, and weighed about 90 pounds, slightly
more than Ralph, but about the same as Archie and Tiger.
Richard was of course a fetching boy, a handsome blonde with
hazel eyes.
Richard's partner, at least the human one he'd be paired
with -- was Eugene Matthias, a Portuguese lad of borderline
swarthy complexion who possessed brown eyes and light
brunette hair. He was handsome, but less strikingly so.
Unlike Richard, Eugene was uncircumcised.
Fred Johnson was one of the two 13-year-olds who had signed
up. A gangly blonde who was already 5' 4'' � Fred was a
blue-eyed favorite of the staff among the inmates they
sometimes pursued sexually � an extremely attractive and
sturdy boy who was also uncut. The other 13-year-old, a
dark-haired charmer named Eric Poulet, was circumcised and
brown-eyed, and had a compact build of nearly flawless
proportions. He'd also been punished about as much as Marc
Sebastian during his term at Longwood, and was known for a
short temper and impulsive behavior. He had something of a
"bad boy" reputation and wasn't particularly liked by most
Longwood staffers, including Mr. Moriarty.
The pair of 14-year-olds had interesting personalities.
Jamie Gilchrist had just turned 14, and was a son of a
clergyman. He had greatly shamed his family by shoplifting a
school binder from a local convenience store. Jamie's father
was a clergyman, self-righteous in the extreme, who was
politically aligned with the Board Members at Longwood.
Reverend Gilchrist persuaded local authorities to consider
the unprecedented action of committing his son to be
sentenced to Longwood for a trial 3-month term, so the boy
might be "scared straight" as he bluntly put it. This
special request wasn't about to be granted, until Jamie was
placed in overnight custody at a juvenile group home for his
own safety from his enraged and sadistic parent. Placed in
unfamiliar surroundings, Jamie had panicked and then
committed a "crime of violence." This unfortunate incident
became an official reason for approving the pastor's overly
harsh suggestion. Jamie had been asked to commit an act of
fellatio against his will by another boy sharing his room in
the group home. This aggressive larger boy had placed his
naked and unwelcome penis near Jamie's lips while holding
him down on a bed. Jamie grabbed a sharp pencil and been
"caught" by the group home's "housemother" as he repeatedly
stabbed his assailant in the hand. Jamie had been charged
with "attempted mayhem" � and this more serious offense is
what got him committed to Longwood.
Jamie was His delicate fingers and toes coincided with a
real talent as a budding classical pianist. (He didn't play
piano with his toes but he probably could have.) Jamie was
also blue-eyed and dusky blonde, and was of slender build
and at 83 pounds; he probably was the smallest in stature of
all six boys signed up. Last but not least, Frankie Muldoon,
a tough Irish street kid, was well into puberty and had
grown a decent thatch of dark brown pubic hair. He was a
young Adonis of the uncircumcised variety. Aged 14 years and
five months, he was already five foot six inches and just
hitting his growth spurt.
All the boys would soon have reason to be leery of large
dogs, more so than any of them could possibly have imagined.
*
Richard and the other five boys signed up for Doggy Sex had
to report to a distant room numbered B-162 in the basement,
by the dungeon-like punishment chambers but as far out of
earshot as possible because of the barking dogs. Richard
made the long walk, almost a hike in the fairly large reform
school complex, and knew he was getting closer when he heard
the dogs barking. He had some trepidation, but had signed up
quasi-voluntarily (as with all the electives at Longwood,
there were obvious elements of coercion involved) and knew
that he'd have to go through with it now. He eventually
found B-162, and he now heard the dogs barking quite loudly,
almost a canine cacophony, except that it was more
occasional. The barking wasn't quite a symphony, as beastly
throat noises were audible every ten seconds or so, then
stop, then start up again. Inside B-162, Richard discovered
that it was an anteroom that he'd never entered before, and
the dogs weren't in there. Richard saw just Mr. Moriarty and
the other boys, and two men beginning to record the entire
class on digital video � a cameraman and a soundman doing
their job. "In case you're wondering, the dogs are in the
next room. Richard Prulem is it? I think I had you in pre-
algebra when you first were incarcerated," Mr. Moriarty
said.
The camera man and sound guy began recording Richard's every
gesture and word immediately, once he'd entered the intake
room. This was probably routine procedure Richard figured.
He'd gotten used to having his privacy completely violated.
After all, it was a reform school.
Richard spoke. "Yes, sir I remember you. I got a B+. I kind
of like math."
"Well, let's hope that you enjoy Doggy Sex half as much. Of
course, I will expect your maximum effort at all times. You
must also follow every instruction without question, or risk
being dropped, which would leave you one elective short and
subject to punishment sessions. But just listen and do what
I say and everything will work out fine."
"I'll try, sir."
To begin, Mr. Moriarty asked the twelve-year-old a few
questions. The first one caught Richard slightly off guard.
"Can you cum yet?"
"Yes sir, a few drops."
"Are you allergic to iodine or Mercurochrome?"
"I don't think so." He knew better than to ask why these
topical disinfectants for scrapes and scratches might be
necessary.
"Ever had a dog?"
"Yes, Prince was his name. A poodle I raised from a pup."
"Did you ever have sex with him?"
"No, sometimes we'd wrestle on the floor, once when I was in
my underpants, but that's about it." Richard was trying to
be truthful. Lying could get him in a peck of trouble in
this place.
Richard's brief interrogation over, soon Mr. Moriarty the
dog trainer was barking out crucial instructions. "You are
to be nice to the dogs. Let them do whatever they want to.
Relax as much as possible and it will go better. If I give
you an order while you're engaged with a dog, it's important
that you listen and concentrate on what I'm telling you. Is
that understood?
All six boys enrolled in the class, Richard, Eugene, Fred,
Eric, Jamie, and Frankie -- quietly nodded. The industrial
quality digital camera recorded it all, and would continue
to not miss, in prostitute lingo, a "trick."
*
More of a last minute lecture ensued, between distinctive
barks in the adjacent chamber. The boys prepared to meet
Archie, Tiger, and Ralph. "Try not to show the slightest
sign of fear. It's important. You're meeting them for the
first time, and first impressions are crucial � dogs are
very aware of things you wouldn't think."
The boys were trying hard to control their anxieties, and
then Mr. Moriarty upped the ante. "You know that even on the
first meeting in a few moments, you can't be wearing
clothes. We also have to prepare you a little for the
moment, to get them to get more excited about seeing you.
You're not just making an appearance today to pet the dogs.
They have to become attracted to you, as this entire
elective's success depends on it."
There was a fearful murmur from at least two of the boys as
Mr. Moriarty's advice sunk in.
"Okay boys. You can strip. Get into your birthday suits. Do
it right now."
Undressing began. The camera caught as many nuances as
possible. In about 90 seconds, all the young inmates signed
up for DOGGY SEX were appropriately nude.
*
"Okay, now that you're naked, I want to see hardons!" Mr.
Moriarty touched Richard's penis and stretched it out a
little for emphasis. It didn't hurt, but Richard got the
point. "I also want each of you leaking a little pre-cum.
And you uncut guys � Eugene, Fred, Frankie, I want each of
you to skin it all the way back and expose your glans � the
bare head of your cock � completely. C'mon, do it! I haven't
got all day!" Mr. Moriarty wasn't satisfied with their
progress or speed. "You guys are way too slow. The pups are
waiting!" This remark brought to mind more barks from the
dogs in the next room. Richard was very timid, even scared,
about greeting these animals while nude. He'd never done
such a thing before and most of the sextet shared similar
misgivings. But the boys would not just appear naked to the
large dogs. Mr. Moriarty began touching the boy's penises
with one hand and spreading some kind of vaguely ill
smelling grayish "guck" on their exposed glans, it's to
stimulate the dogs, he explained, it's like dog fuck juice
and will get their attention, he added. He smeared what
seemed like a copious amount of the concoction on all the
boys' cocks from root to tip and also smeared copious
amounts on their lower bellies and upper thighs and into
their rectums.
"We kind of smell like dogs," Frankie remarked somewhat
accurately, or at least rutting dogs he probably meant to
say. In that condition, Mr. Moriarty opened the only door
leading to where the dogs were. Who let the dogs in?
In about two seconds, Archie, Tiger, and Ralph began
sniffing. Already a bit sex-crazed and otherwise manic, the
dogs began mounting the boys, one at a time, going from one
to the other while standing on their hind legs. Tiger, the
Great Dane, let out a low sexy growl when he jumped up with
his scratching paws on Richard's bare chest and then near
his pelvis and scrotum. Ralph the Doberman jumped up and
managed to lightly nip Eugene in the right nipple. "Yeowwh!"
the boy yelled, but his reaction only startled the large dog
and caused the dog to nip again about midway up Eugene's
torso, on his vulnerable rib cage. The second nip made a red
mark on the 12-year-old's skin but this time the boy managed
to not cry out although it hurt like a very bad pinch.
Meanwhile, Archie, the aggressive German Shepard, was going
crazy with pent up lust. He soon scratched the bodies of
five of the boys in his insane excitement, going from boy to
boy as if he were riding a horn dog merry-go-round. The
Mercurochrome came out for its first use a few moments later
when the dogs were put back in the larger room. The boys
shared it liberally among themselves. Again, the camera and
microphone captured sights and sounds.
*
Richard really got to know the dogs when Archie, Tiger, and
Ralph mounted him and actually fucked the twelve-year-old up
the ass. He went to Doggy Sex class that first day not
knowing what to expect. But Mr. Moriarty told him to "Hurry
up and strip like the other boys, you're a minute late and
holding up the videotaping!" He had been told to go to the
larger chamber where the tables were, and once entirely
naked Richard had some of the gooey dog love-cream smeared
all over his inside buttocks and into his rectum.
I hate that stuff. It makes me smell like a dog.
Once smeared properly, he was told to "get good and hard"
and soon he was even leaking a little pre-ejaculate from his
peehole and had an erection that was sticking nearly
straight out from his body. Why was he suddenly so hard? He
didn't know. He didn't need to know. But it was quite easy
to produce the required hard-on, in fact, too easy. Richard
wondered about that too, as Mr. Moriarty told him to "Kneel
on the empty table with your butt up as high as you can get
it, boy." The boys were placed with the dogs three at a
time. Jamie and Eric were already kneeling and waiting. When
Richard took his place, the camera and sound started
rolling.
He heard the dogs barking like crazy in the anteroom. The
door was closed but it wouldn't be for long. "They know
their bitches are waiting," Mr. Moriarty remarked. Richard
didn't think it was funny. This was going to be a totally
humiliating and perhaps painful experience, but he'd signed
up for this so that he wouldn't have to do a boy-on-boy sex
elective, which would be really gay, truly homo-stuff. This
sex wouldn't be so bad with dogs, would it? He'd still be a
virgin boy, wouldn't he? All kinds of noxious thoughts were
swirling around in Richard's head. He was incredibly na�ve,
but only twelve.
The sound guy opened the door, and the dogs came bounding
into the room. Immediately, they started sniffing the air,
and upon seeing the nude boys with their bare butts up
waiting for them, started barking and whining in a sexual
frenzy worse than the initial meeting when the boys first
"met" the dogs.
"This is really hot," the cameraman blurted.
The other boys � Eugene, Frankie, and Fred � were waiting
still clothed and unsmeared in a corner of the room mostly
out of sight, although the camera did pan over to them once
or twice. They knew they'd be next after the dogs had
copulated with their classmates.
A moment later, Tiger seized the initiative first and jumped
onto the table where Eric knelt. Great Danes are slightly
more impulsive than either Dobermans or German Shepards.
Rapidly approaching rut, the big dog started pawing Eric's
upper thighs on both legs while scratching tentatively with
his claws. The camera caught what happened next, probably
anticipating the suddenness of it. The big dog mounted
thirteen-year-old Eric's sturdy compact bare body and
yelped, and as the Great Dane scraped his claws across
Eric's bare back to pinion itself into position, both dog
and boy yelped. A minute later, the Great Dane began licking
the boy's rectum where the love-juice had been smeared. The
dog dug in again with his claws and scratched with sexual
abandon in nine-inch lines along Eric's bare sides near his
ribs. When dog and boy yelped again, Tiger nipped Eric with
what Mr. Moriarty called a "love-bite" just under the
shoulderblades. Several seconds later, Tiger thrust his
penis into Eric's asshole and "That hurts a lot, sir!" Eric
protested to Mr. Moriarty in a loud voice.
Ralph decided to pair that first time with 14-year-old
Jamie, the delicate boy. He was a Doberman and they didn't
like much foreplay. Within seconds, he'd thrust fully into
the boy's rectum, and was scraping his clawed paws all over
the boy's back, butt, and thighs. He nipped Jamie several
times while he was embedded to the hilt. This must have been
agonizing for Jamie, with the weight of the big dog pressing
down upon his bare skin and the smelly dog's breath close to
Jamie's nose and ears. A succession of nips came next,
mostly on the boy's vulnerable ribs and sides. Jamie felt
the dog thrusting hard in short powerful strokes, "going to
town" as his crude Uncle Bill might describe even this
bestial form of sex. On second thought, God knows how
Jamie's uncle might describe dog-on-his nephew sex, if he
only knew. Jamie was quietly sobbing that first time.
Richard knew that Archie would jump on his table in a matter
of seconds. He did, as the 12-year-old boy was the only one
not yet paired with a dog. Richard felt the German Shepard's
hot breath on his exposed asshole and then the paws with
their claws being raked all over his bare back and then a
hot flash of pain as the big dog actually mounted him. The
penis felt funny going into his asshole. It sank in steadily
with the dog's weight. The dog weighed about as much as he
did, and once inside, the dog's love-tool wouldn't dislodge
easily as the sheath around the German Shepard's penis
expanded while expending its semen. Richard felt debased and
humiliated as the big dog came copiously inside him.
Finally, it was over when all three dogs had climaxed inside
"their" boy. Already naked, Eugene, Frankie, and Fred strode
into the big chamber and Richard and Jamie and Eric got up
off their tables as the dogs eagerly switched partners. Now
the already used boys got to watch and rest and dab
Mercurochrome over their bodies as the other boys received
their turn at being fucked by a dog. Richard spent a little
longer in the shower and soaped up more than usual that
evening, and didn't care that the water was more than
moderately cold.
*
Actually, the other kinds of DOGGY SEX turned out to be even
more humiliating and horrid in certain ways. Richard
subsequently played the scenes back in his head like a long-
running bad wet dream. While each boy had at least one time
to be copulated by each dog, the elective's curriculum
included a number of intriguing variations.
For instance, Richard remembered having his goop-smeared
feet being licked all over by each of the dogs. It tickled,
but the frustrated Doberman gave him a serious bite on his
second toe on his right foot, enough to break the skin and
bleed slightly just when he was starting to relax and enjoy
this strange foot massage.
Worse yet was a requirement to lick the asshole of each
dirty big dog! Talk about disgusting � kneeling on the table
with your face in the dog's smelly rear and your tongue up
its butt "all the way in." Mr. Moriarty had yelled at him
when Richard wasn't licking aggressively enough. "The dogs
really like that," Mr. Moriarty said casually when the boys
had accomplished thorough cleanings of each dog's shit-
smeared rectum. It took days of mouthwash and extra
toothpaste to get the "dog ass" taste out of his mouth.
But the worst of all was the scariest minor ordeal too. Each
boy's cock and balls � his entire groin area � was smeared
with the sex-juice and over several sessions each dog
mounted the nude boys who were secured face-up with arms
outstretched above their heads and spread-eagled lying flat
on a table. Richard described what it was like in the DOGGY
SEX discussion afterwards. The perverts who screened the
DVDs loved the discussion periods at the end when the boys
described what they'd just endured in meticulous detail.
"I felt helpless and scared lying there on my back knowing
that the dog was going to be licking and maybe nipping or
even chowing down on my cock and balls," Richard began to
explain." His voice trembled a bit as he continued. We'd
heard stories about another boy and a pit bull a few years
ago. That dog bit a boy's cock clean off!" Mr. Moriarty
tried to reassure me when Archie was licking my belly and
working down toward my cock. "He's just loving you up,
Richard," Mr. Moriarty said. Eventually the dog gave me a
pretty decent blowjob and I came in his mouth. That felt
awesome, but I was pretty scared during most of it."
The last exercise of DOGGY SEX was when the naked boys had
to lie down on their backs under the dogs and return the
favor. Each dog penis expanded with its sheath in the boy's
mouth and a copious amount of dog semen spilled out. When
Mr. Moriarty forced each boy to swallow the cum, three of
the boys � Eugene, Frankie, and Jamie � retched and vomited
for several hours afterwards each time they'd been required
to "blow" a dog. The other three boys including Richard
managed only to feel nauseated for maybe half an hour
subsequent to the act. Richard was simply glad when this
entire bestial elective was finally over. His dormies, Marc
and David, registered for a boy-on-boy sex class together.
It was called FULL TREATMENT.
*
Ten boys had signed up for this popular, if coerced,
elective, also recorded on videotape with full sound.
Although the inmates were required to be naked for the
action scenes, at least nothing like goop had to be smeared
over their bodies. It was humiliating and exploitive for
boys who'd never experimented with other boys, but Marc and
David had been active with other neighborhood boys their own
age, and in Marc's case, he'd been sexually active with a
grown man too. Both boys actually found it "interesting" as
well as relaxing. "You should have signed up with us instead
of doing that DOGGY bullshit," David later told Richard.
Other inmates doing FULL TREATMENT included two attractive
twelve-year-olds, Bobby Simpson and Matthew Fox, thirteen-
year-old Nelson Wagner and Adam Sathchild, and four
fourteen-year-olds, Lyle French, August Smith, Billy Peters,
and another Richard, surnamed Butler. All ten boys had
little objection to showing off their bodies at Longwood
since they were already incarcerated and any modesty had
been conditioned out of them. Having sex depended on the
particular boy. Some were more reticent than others, but
still daring enough.
Considered from the filming aspect, this "elective" ran like
a porn tape. Two adult coaches were always present to
supervise and urge the enrolled inmates on to greater
heights of orgiastic pleasure. Since masturbation was
frowned upon in the Longwood dorms, FULL TREATMENT was
greatly anticipated by the boys. The waiting list for it
often grew to fifty boys or more. Typically the handsomest
and most photogenic boys were selected, but the coaches
doing the picking always couched this criterion carefully,
and wouldn't admit it outright.
Mr. Frank James, name as the famous outlaw, was one of the
coaches. His long wolverine-like face was adorned with a
bushy curly-cue mustache and a scraggly beard. He had brown
piercing eyes and a nose curved upwards like a beak. But he
loved to teach the boys to love each other, and was
resourceful as a perverted Grizzly Adams. His mouth flashed
a mixture of dentures and yellowed neglected teeth. His
breath left something to be desired. The other coach was Mr.
Abraham Lowenstein. The latter usually taught shop class at
Longwood. He'd taught 9th grade shop in a high school back
on the mainland in Bangor but been fired for brutally raping
and torturing a 14-year-old boy there. Criminal charges had
never been pressed. Instead he'd been summoned to New York
City and flown to meet with Longwood board members at the
American Enterprise Institute. They'd offered him a position
as the shop teacher on the island, and that'd been five
years ago. Somehow he'd been a fit for Longwood's depraved
adult overseers. Coincidentally, a shop teacher had recently
quit after witnessing what went on at this facility for
errant boys, but who's saying that was a factor? Mr.
Lowenstein was heavyset with a shaved head and absolutely no
facial hair. He smiled a lot to the boys and liked to reach
out and touch some boy, especially when they were naked,
which was a lot more often than his charges had been nude
and accessible back in Bangor.
Marc and David already knew a lot of the boys they'd be
interacting with in this elective, and although forbidden to
be inappropriate with any of them outside of this peculiar
setting, both were already accustomed to seeing them nude in
the morning showers. There were five nozzle sprays but no
privacy in each shower area, and boys had unlimited if
furtive glimpses of other boys rushing to cleanse themselves
before drying off with usually damp and somewhat dirty
towels.
Billy Simpson was a drop dead gorgeous twelve-and-a-half-
year-old. Brown-haired, brown-eyed, four-foot-ten, ninety-
six pounds, lean and athletic, circumcised with a cock three
and � inches in length and nice plump balls hanging down �
these traits slightly described him physically. He possessed
a navel that curved inwards, small but sensitive nipples,
sturdy legs and perfectly shaped feet with evenly spaced
toes. The second toe on each foot was not longer than his
big toe, and he was amiable and very tactile by nature.
Bobby enjoyed being touched. He could ejaculate already, but
it was mostly a clear stream. He'd been arrested for
shoplifting and beaten into confessing to several unsolved
house burglaries by a corrupt deputy sheriff in Houlton
Maine � way up by the Canadian border. He had not been
subjected to severe punishments yet at Longwood, although he
had endured the humiliating intake procedures, as had every
inmate. He was still a virgin, but curious about sex as most
boys are.
Matthew Fox had just turned twelve a month before, and was
one of the youngest boys incarcerated in the entire
population. Blonde and brown-eyed, he was just four-foot-
nine, and weighed only 81 pounds. Well-proportioned, he was
also circumcised, his penis already his toy. Matthew enjoyed
masturbating at least twice a day, although this frequency
was tougher to maintain at Longwood than it had been at
home. He'd been caught masturbating in a locker room at his
middle school, and been designated as a juvenile sex
offender, sentenced to an entire year at the reform school.
His navel bulged from his firm boyish tummy, and his nipples
were nickel-sized and very ticklish. In fact, he was
extremely ticklish almost everywhere, and had never indulged
in sex play with any person. He'd let his tabby cat lick his
balls once when nobody was at home, but that was his entire
sexual resume. His beautiful ass was a proto-typical bubble
butt, and he wore his hair in a crewcut since intake at
Longwood a week before. His feet and sides were extremely
ticklish. His meaty toes were extra tasty as he always had a
bit of dirt between them to provide flavor.
Nelson Wagner was aged thirteen years four months and came
from the big city of Portland. He'd been involved in
defending himself from three other boys in his seventh grade
class. Nelson had fought back fiercely and put one peer, a
nasty skater boy whose Dad was on the Portland City Council
� into the hospital with a broken nose and collarbone. The
bully had outweighed Nelson by fifteen pounds and lied, and
his friends had backed him up � accusing Nelson of being a
member of a notorious Portland area youth gang. Although
they could produce little evidence to substantiate their
dubious story except for their injuries, they were somehow
believed, as Nelson's parents were unable to afford an
advocate and both being illiterate, coerced into signing
away their parental rights and Nelson's individual rights,
in violation of state law. Nelson was entering puberty and
had accumulated a small bush of pubic hair. He also had a
bit of underarm hair and big toe hair. Uncircumcised, with a
longish penis of slightly over five inches, the organ was
rather slender in girth. He was five-foot-four and weighed
98 pounds, and so could be considered lanky. Nelson's jet
black hair complemented his pale complexion, and freckles on
his face did not presage facial hair except near the bottom
of his sideburns on his upper cheeks. He also had a few
hairs sprouting near his rectum. His nipples were dime-sized
and his ribs showed along his sides, but he wasn't
particularly ticklish. He'd no sexual experience of any
kind. His feet were longish with long slender toes, and his
second toes were slightly longer than his large toes. He was
more sensitive on the bottoms of his feet than anywhere else
on his body.
Thirteen-and-a-half-year-old Adam Sathchild was a gregarious
and well-balanced boy who had arrived at Longwood because of
a mistaken identity incident. Accused of shoplifting at a
local convenience store, in actually a boy resembling Adam
had used a knife to threaten a clerk while stealing a pack
of cigarettes and some candy. Adam had entered the store a
few minutes later and been blamed and arrested. He didn't
smoke and had never stolen anything in his life! Adam was an
honors student at his middle school, and eighth grade vice-
president. He'd been coerced into a confession after
maintaining his innocence for some twenty hours. Not allowed
to call his parents or his college-aged sister, he'd grown
extremely tired at three o'clock in the morning. He'd also
been tortured. When the interrogating detective had grown
frustrated with Adam, he'd made him take off his shoes and
socks and several times deliberately stomped on the boy's
bare feet while wearing dress shoes and when the security
camera had been turned off. After confessing, Adam had
received a court date and eventually been sentenced to two
years at Longwood because a weapon had been used in the
commission of "his" crime. He was a handsome dark-haired boy
with blue eyes and a cute little pug nose who was on the
cusp of puberty with his first tiny hairs just starting.
Circumcised, his pride and joy was just under four inches
long and nicely proportioned with a pink and symmetrical
glans. He enjoyed touching it as whitish sperm had already
begun for him. Erections were very frequent while Adam was
awake, maybe ten a day, and nocturnal emissions were also
common. His toes were symmetrical on his circus boy's
acrobatic feet; although a slight space existed between his
first and second toes on each foot. At home, sometimes when
he was good, Adam's Dad would tenderly massage Adam's
beautiful feet as an occasional treat. He was exactly five
feet tall and weighed ninety-two pounds.
Marc and David admired the fourteen-year-olds, as they all
possessed adolescent bodies, being slightly older.
Lyle French was one of the biggest fourteen-year-olds at
Longwood. He was midway through puberty with underarm hair
and a substantial bush of light pubic hair, and his voice
was manlier. A blond Adonis, he looked a lot like a young
surfer with his blue eyes, wavy hair, aquiline nose and
quick smile. Easygoing, he liked to relax whenever he got
the chance and considered this "elective" a fun way to do
that. But he was already 5'8" and weighed close to 160
pounds, and was still growing. His uncircumcised penis was
6.6 inches long and rather thick, resembling a small
sausage. His balls were low hanging. He had a scar on his
left shoulder from a knife fight back on the mainland when
he was 13, and because of that scar, many Longwood inmates
gave him extra space. Unlike most boys incarcerated at
Longwood, he felt confident enough to admit to bisexuality.
Sent to Longwood for a more substantive reason than many,
Lyle had been convicted of arson, to wit burning his foster
home down to the ground with a stolen can of kerosene.
August Smith had been named for August Derleth, because his
Dad had been a huge H.P. Lovecraft fan. Derleth had compiled
Lovecraft's horror stories into anthologies.
August had arrived in Longwood on his 14th birthday, just
three months before. During his intake, the staff called him
"birthday boy" and had humiliated him worse than was
typical. Blond and blue eyed but more of a dusky blond than
Lyle -- August considered himself small for his age, with
scant dark-blond wisps near his penis and nothing under his
arms or anywhere else on his 4'7" body. He weighed about 90
pounds and liked to be touched; his girlfriend back in South
Portland used to give him all-over-the-body hand massages
and blowjobs. He liked girls mostly, but possessed an
opportunistic streak, and wanted to try this "elective" with
boys � not least of all because it "probably would feel
good." He'd taken his aunt's Mercedes for a joyride and been
caught and arrested. After he'd been sent to Longwood, his
aunt had felt sorry about pressing charges and wrote her
handsome nephew every week.
Billy Peters was a bit older than August, at 14 years and 4
months, but he'd served six months of his Longwood sentence.
Arrested for publicly kissing a 7th grade female classmate
impulsively and without her permission almost a year before,
he'd been sentenced under a harsh 1896 backwoods Maine
statute to "statutory rape committed by a juvenile," a crime
that would keep him incarcerated until past his fifteenth
birthday. He'd also been mistreated at Longwood, subjected
to mandated punishment sessions similar to the sexual
offense-related public Friday evening punishment in the
basement chamber that Marc Sebastian had endured. In fact,
Billy had already endured four such agonizing evenings, and
was scheduled for a fifth � some type of unenviable Longwood
record � and he was "almost" growing accustomed to them. He
was also available in the Longwood Student Profile book,
which showed a lot more than the profiles of Longwood Reform
School inmates. Sometimes sadistic board members would
request the boys for a Friday overnight experience or even
an entire weekend. For this to happen, however, the boy had
to either be unusually attractive or possess some particular
desirable trait that was conducive to a sadist's pleasure.
There also needed to be an excuse as cover. Many Longwood
board members qualified as bonafide sadists, and all
subscribed to the student profile yearbook as checking out
newbies among inmates sentenced to "the isle" could be a
rewarding pastime. Billy's full sets of photos were in the
"big book," as the Longwood Student Profile book was
typically referred to. Many provocative stills of naked
Billy culled from posing sessions with the Longwood
photographer graced the big book's glossy pages. Yet he'd
never had the honor of being so requested.
The prerequisite for being requested was a small but
prominent asterisk being placed beside an inmate's name by a
Longwood staff member. Meriting a relatively rare asterisk
was usually the result of a boy's perceived transgression
committed within a class or "elective," and often when this
occurred, the targeted boy wasn't even told what his offense
had been. A few days subsequent to a dreaded asterisk being
placed beside his name accompanying his photo sets appearing
in the annual, he would be called out of a class or
activity, usually on a Friday. He'd then be told that he
would be leaving Longwood for a day or two and that he'd be
going on a "field trip." If he were a na�ve boy, he'd
initially be elated about the opportunity. He'd wonder what
event had prompted this apparent stroke of luck. Many boys
at the reform school surmised otherwise, however, and might
warn the selected newbie � for better or worse. In cases
where a boy had been requested by extreme sadists, however,
it was perhaps preferable for the unfortunate inmate not to
know.
Billy was brunette with an upturned nose and sharp piercing
brown eyes. He looked a bit younger, as he'd just begun
puberty only a month or so earlier. He was attractive, with
sturdy well-shaped feet and legs and a solid muscular build,
especially in the upper body. His uncircumcised penis was a
slender four and a half inches long. While Billy considered
himself "straight" � he'd decided to say "what the heck" and
have some fun � especially prior to his impending punishment
session � which might leave him unable to enjoy his penis
for several weeks. At four foot eleven and about 90 pounds,
Billy was short and slight of stature for his age.
Richard Butler, nicknamed "Dickie" was the last of the
fourteen-year-olds enrolled in FULL TREATMENT. He was a
redheaded ruggedly handsome boy with puberty well underway.
Naked, he was a sight to behold. His circumcised cock was
close to seven inches in length, a "monster snake" as
compared to some of the younger boys, and he was loath to
keep his monster harnessed. Dickie loved to engage in sex,
to "feed the reptile" -- as he'd quip. He had large hanging
balls too, a nice rack of male genitalia, and he was
relishing certain aspects of FULL TREATMENT. He knew that
with him participating, some of the "elective's" scheduled
activities might verge on bullying � but he didn't much
care. Tall muscular and manly, he weighed in at about 150
pounds and was five foot eight.
*
Mr. James and Mr. Lowenstein were fidgeting as the enrollees
began arriving. They knew that this class was a popular one
to supervise, perhaps the most desirable for staffers, as
there was something elemental and exciting to witnessing a
boy's raging sexual hormones being deliberately engaged. It
might be expected that such an action-filled "elective" be
held in a distant nook of the basement's recesses, but not
so. FULL TREATMENT was invariably conducted in the school's
very public gymnasium where anyone passing by its windowed
entrance might casually observe.
Two or three large plastic mats would be brought out, and
the enrolled boys would pile onto these in their pairings
and begin a full agenda of boy sex. The sex was akin to the
most rigorous physical gymnastic or tumbling session � both
more mundane uses of the mats. The cameraman and sound guy
would be recording the activities. "This is always exciting,
when FULL TREATMENT first begins," Mr. James, looking like a
lecherous Grizzly Adams, whispered to Mr. Lowenstein as the
boys filed in. Soon all of them, segregated according to age
for the moment, stood at attention with their hands at their
sides, fully dressed in their Longwood uniforms. Marc and
David fidgeted too, as neither knew what to expect, as this
was their first time in FULL TREATMNT. "It's lucky we made
it in," David whispered to Marc, "I didn't think I'd get
picked."
"I've heard that you have to do a lot of oral," Marc added
enthusiastically.
"Should be fun," remarked David.
"Quiet you two!" barked Mr. Lowenstein.
He's a pervert if I've ever seen one -- Marc couldn't help
thinking. He started giggling then, and hoped it wouldn't
get him going into a giggling jag and prove contagious.
Longwood staffers didn't have much patience for that sort of
spontaneous response. Also, the entire line of boys might
start giggling too, as all were in a relatively good, if
also expectant mood.
"What IS so funny?" Mr. James stared right at Marc, his
piercing eyes cutting through him like butter.
Marc got himself under control somehow.
"Okay, it looks like all ten of you enrollees in the
elective are here. Some of this will be fun, but it is being
filmed and recorded and so you must obey everything that we
tell you," explained Mr. Lowenstein, "Infractions are
recorded and might be punished. One strict prohibition is on
homosexuality at this school. We don't want any of you kids
turning into a fag. It might seem that way, but these
activities aren't meant for you to fall in love with other
boys. There is a big difference between love and lovemaking,
and that's why some of the activities you'll be engaging in
with other boys have additional elements meant to discourage
you from getting attached � except literally -- with one of
your fellow inmates."
"Repeat after me," said Mr. James, "Lovey-dovey is bad."
The boys repeated the phrase rather mechanically, like human
metronomes. None of them, even the fourteen-year-olds,
possessed enough experience in sex yet to completely
separate it from intimacy, as was being demanded by the
Longwood instructors.
"Repeat after me," intoned Mr. Lowenstein, "We're not fags."
Again, ten boys echoed the phrase, some even a little
enthusiastically; especially those boys who considered they
only liked girls for sex.
"Okay, " said Mr. James, "Strip down to your birthday suits
and place your clothes neatly � I said neatly � along the
gym wall with the fourteen-year-olds clothing descending in
age to you youngest guys."
It took a little over one minute for each of the ten
enrolled inmates to shed his clothes. Naked, each boy stood
at attention barefooted on the hardwood gym floor with a
pile of their clothing � the regular Longwood uniforms �
piled at their feet. First, the two naked twelve-year-olds,
Billy Simpson and Matthew Fox, were instructed to pile their
clothing along the side of the wall. "Get back in line you
two," shouted James. He'd just caught them exchanging some
sexy chatter with each other, a minor taboo.
Next, it was the turn of the thirteen-year-olds to similarly
deposit their duds -- David, Marc, Nelson, and the
astoundingly attractive Adam. They did so quietly and
without incident.
The fourteen-year-olds marshalled a bounce to their barefoot
steps � Lyle, August, Billy Peters, and Dickie Butler. Billy
looked almost diminutive alongside his larger agemates.
Back in line, the boys quietly awaited the signal to "begin
sexing" and looked anxiously around to discover who they'd
be paired with and what they'd be doing first.
From the expressions on the instructors' faces � Mr. James
and Mr. Lowenstein � it looked like they too couldn't wait
for the couplings to begin.
Meanwhile, the cameraman and the soundman with his
microphones swiftly jockeyed for the most advantageous
position nearer the mats.
*
"Okay, initial pairings. Butler and Simpson. Frolinger and
French. Sathchild and Smith. Peters and Sebastian. Finally,
Wagner and Fox. Get into fucking position, top boy, and
bottom boy. Hurry up. Choose positions, and get ready. This
should take just a few seconds. C'mon, do it!" Mr. James was
running the exercise like any other gym mat activity. The
cameraman and the sound guy were ready to go, and both
sidled into the best possible vantage for viewing the nude
couples. Mr. James yelled again. "Fuckers, make yourself
hard, if you haven't managed that already, and hop onto the
backs of your fuckee!
The ten boys assumed their positions. "Good! Now fuckees get
those cheeks spread nice and lift up those butts," Mr. James
choreographed. "Okay, tops � plunge right now! Plunge deep
and do it hard!" There were several grunts and a couple of
screams from pain. David was really feeling Lyle French's
big cock drill his butt, and the situation was even worse
for little Billy Simpson, as it seemed to the smaller boy
that Dickie Butler's "monster" was about to split him in
half!
"Don't pull out. Show determination -- I want each fucker to
complete orgasm in their boy's ass! Take as much time as you
need � Lyle, Dickie, Nelson, and you � Billy Peters," Mr.
Lowenstein was yelling too, loudly exhorting as if he were a
high school basketball coach. Billy's cock wasn't all that
big and didn't feel that bad in Marc's ass, he could handle
it. It feels like I'm full and taking a crap, Marc mused. A
few minutes later, the first exhibition was over, and the
worst result was some redness and soreness and a little bit
of blood and semen dribbling from the anuses of David and
especially Billy Simpson, who was crying a little as it
really hurt. He's too big! Billy thought, but wisely kept
this opinion to himself
"Okay, switch partners!" Mr. James screamed. Again, the
camera and the sound recorder jockeyed into position.
Turnabout was fair play. Fuckers became fuckees, and vice-
versa. But the new fuckers, Marc, David, Adam, and Billy
Simpson hopped onto their bared mounts with a certain
enthusiasm. Their erections soon found their marks and each
ejaculated within three minutes, just as their predecessors
had.
"Switch partners -- again!" Mr. James yelled. This time, a
little bullying entered the sex as Dickie almost landed on
Billy Simpson's bare back with a thud, and the littler boy
nearly collapsed from the older boy's full weight � perhaps
fifty pounds greater than his own.
"That's nice and aggressive. We like that � playing to the
camera!" Mr. Lowenstein praised the bully, and Billy just
groaned and began to cry, as the older boy's nearly seven-
inch cock ravaged his anus. "I'm fucking Billy big-time!
This fucking is so fucking kewl!" Richard Butler remarked,
seeking more praise from the two staff members in the gym.
Finally, he ejaculated again inside Billy Simpson, and
mercifully the so-called "butt-fucking" session within FULL
TREATMENT was concluded as a hall bell loudly rang. His
large teenaged cock felt so good inside Simpson's tight
little ass that Richard Butler's toes kept twitching for a
full seven or eight seconds after he'd orgasmed.
"Isn't that beautiful?" whispered Mr. Lowenstein to Mr.
James as he noticed Butler's toes.
*
The sessions within FULL TREATMENT progressed through a
number of boy-boy sex variations as the semester progressed.
As partners changed like musical chairs, the naked boys were
put through their paces doing each other in what seemed like
infinity of novel ways. Blowjobs were performed with either
one boy blowing his partner, or each boy blowing each other
simultaneously. This latter exhibition came to be referred
to as a sixty-nine � in honor of the sixty-nine heroes who
had eventually been paroled from Longwood and went on to be
killed in action as military personnel serving in Iraq and
Afghanistan. Mr. Lowenstein told them this explanatory
nugget with a straight face, although not a single boy
believed him. What came to be truly significant is that Marc
Sebastian came to choose Adam Sathchild increasingly as a
partner, and that this development occurred so gradually
that no one realized it at first, not even Marc or Adam. But
it was all there to be reviewed by many sadistic and
homophobic adult eyes on digital video. Marc and Adam
finally realized that they were starting to get emotionally
involved with each other, in effect, falling in love or
developing a taboo crush on each other � during the final
exercise of the FULL TREATMENT elective.
*
The exercise they were instructed to engage in didn't help.
All ten inmates were told to lick their partners over every
inch of their naked bodies, like cats. Marc was staring down
intently at Adam staring back at him while lying on his
backside, both of them naked as jaybirds. He did this a few
seconds too long, and so drew the hostile attentions of Mr.
James and Mr. Lowenstein.
"It's called 'Around the World'," murmured Lowenstein to
Marc, "just do it. Start off with his feet. Lick his toes
and soles first."
The other pairs of boys had already begun licking up the
bodies of their fellow inmates. The skin of each boy was
clean. Each boy had been instructed to shower immediately
preceding this last contest, and so their nude bodies might
have tasted slightly of salt, and flesh, and perhaps a
smidgen of soap and sweat and urine here and there. A few of
the boys being licked were finding it difficult to suppress
giggles.
Against this stark backdrop, Marc was finding his own
commencement increasingly difficult to initiate. It's not
that he found Adam Sathchild's 13-year-old body to be
repulsive. The issue in fact was quite the contrary. Marc's
intense gaze momentarily shifted to Adam's feet. They were
beautiful, he thought. His toes were perfectly even in
length in a perfectly proportioned foot, except on their
bottoms where there existed a slight crease of hardened
skin, like a dimpled bit of ridged callous, and Adam
possessed this beautiful feature on the underside of all his
toes. Marc also admired the little space in between Adam's
big toes and second toes on each foot. This slight
separation was becoming extremely sexy. A few tiny dark
hairs were starting to sprout from the tops of each of
Adam's big toes. That's so kewl! Marc mused. The soles
themselves were meaty and full of sensitive adipose tissue,
a lot like the photo he'd once saw in a children's book he
remembered. At the age of five or six a color photo of a
barefoot boy acrobat with soles like Adam's had captivated
Marc's imagination. The soles of the boy in the picture had
been muscular and boyish but at the same time exhibited a
kind of functional perfection. But Marc feared that if he
began licking, he wouldn't be able to control himself or
control his very private emotions in this very public class.
"Sebastian! Why are you hesitating? Do you wish to receive
credit for this elective or not?" Mr. James was leaning into
him now. He could feel the bearded man's hot stinky breath
very close now.
There was also the other REQUIRED element. Marc didn't
really want to inflict this nastiness on Adam. A hedge
against the gentle sex of boy-boy homosexuality had been
inserted into the licking game. This was the most compelling
reason for Marc's hesitation.
Mr. Lowenstein reminded Marc. "Don't forget � all of you
boys must bite your partners five times on their bodies �
and you must draw a little blood each time you do it!"
"Use those teeth!" added Mr. James. School benefactors and
others subscribed to these electives as DVDs considered the
biting aspect especially entertaining as well as quite
useful in discouraging homosexuality. The bite marks on each
boy were subsequently analyzed.
"Yeowwh!" Billy Simpson had just been bitten and gnawed on
the left calf by Lyle French. An appropriate few drops of
blood oozed from the fresh wound.
Marc cringed. He would find those bites extremely difficult
to inflict on Adam.
August Smith was bitten hard on the right third toe by
Richard Butler. "Owwh! That really hurt � you're such an
asshole Butler!" Richard began chewing a little to make sure
he'd draw blood off his partner's now injured toe. Richard
didn't mind really. For him it was the manly thing to do.
While performing these all-over-tongue massages, the ten
participating inmates were allowed to bite their partners
anywhere on their bodies. Each boy had also been instructed
to "spread your bites out" so "your partner won't be
expecting it" and "he'll be nice and relaxed when you give
him a good bite."
Marc had already chosen three partners on previous days
while engaged in this licking game, and had bitten on cue,
and been bitten on cue. But he hadn't felt the way he did
toward Adam with any of the other boys, not even David.
He was attracting too much attention. Marc knew that he had
to begin licking Adam like he was supposed to. Soon he'd
summoned the courage to begin with Adam's gorgeous toes on
his left foot. He just had to. He ran his moist tongue
thoroughly, not missing a spot, while bathing each appendage
in his spittle. He made up his mind not to bite Adam
anywhere on his lovely feet.
"Finally!" remarked Mr. James.
*
It was a Thursday when Adam posed for his photo sets in the
Longwood Student Profile Book. Mr. Ponagraphia, a former
Italian middleweight boxer and photojournalist with a knack
for getting boys to pose correctly, was the official reform
school photographer. He was swarthy complexioned with dark
curly hair and generally hirsute. Adam posed first in his
school uniform, fronting a light-background beige wall
graced by a portrait of Abner C. Longwood, the school's
esteemed founder. Longwood had been a true Maine Down
Easter, a man who loved island hopping through the thousands
of isles off the state's coast. He'd died in 1971 after a
prolonged orgy involving six inmates who'd been servicing
the founder on his yacht during a summer escapade. Mr.
Ponagraphia soon had Adam posing every which way but which.
The photographer possessed a certain charm and amiable
manner that put Adam at ease. A Lazy Boy chair and a longish
table served as props for the photo sessions. "Stand up. Sit
down on the chair, sneakers toward the camera." A series of
forty stills were taken of Adam fully clothed. "Okay Adam.
You can lose your sneakers. Just in your socks � we'll do
ten of those." The socks didn't last too long. "I want you
barefoot now, twenty without your socks. These will feature
your beautiful feet."
Adam was a bit embarrassed but couldn't help blushing.
"Thank you sir," he said. He suddenly became chatty.
"My Dad used to say I had beautiful feet and he would give
me foot massages almost every night." Adam smiled coyly.
"I can see why. Your feet are very photogenic for a 13-year-
old, Adam."
Adam didn't mind. He was proud of his feet and enjoyed
showing them off.
"Feet closest to the camera, soles up."
"Let's see those nice toes."
The next series was shirtless, a set of 50. "Remove your
shirt." So now Adam was barefoot and shirtless, posing on
the chair while sitting on it, or standing, or lying
lengthwise on the table, or just standing on the floor. Mr.
Ponagraphia was extremely creative when it came to posing
young inmates. The last dozen or so shots verged on the
seductive.
"Take off your shorts."
"So I'm just in my underwear?"
"That's right. Are your briefs clean?"
They weren't, not quite, there was a small pee stain in
front near the fly-hole. This would be embarrassing. "Are
the pictures in color?" Adam asked.
"Unfortunately for you, people are bound to notice that
stain."
"Can I go to my dorm room to get a clean pair?"
"Nope, you should have thought of that earlier. It's not
that big of a deal though."
Sitting in the Lazy Boy with his feet up toward the camera,
but clad in just his soiled underwear gave Adam an
embarrassed red-faced look in some of the next shots, 75 of
them as part of his undie set. He was made to face the wall
to show off his backside in just the briefs, and stand with
one bare foot up on the chair, or sitting on the floor with
his feet prominent while resting on the chair, or facing the
camera, and humiliatingly facing the camera with an
erection, or flashing his bare butt with his briefs partway
down. He did face the camera too with his white and stained
briefs partly lowered to show off his sparse growth of
pubes, and part of his penis, and finally he heard the word
"Strip, Adam." One hundred nude shots comprised the final
set, and again he posed in imaginative if sometimes lewd
poses. Several close-ups were taken of his penis and balls.
"C'mon boy. Don't be so shy. Point your penis at the camera
so we can get a nice shot of your piss-slit. Good, let's get
a few close ups of that too. You are a very handsome boy,
but here at Longwood, no part of your body is private."
"I know sir," said Adam, "but I can't help being a little
bashful. At home, nobody ever saw me naked. Here, there's a
lot of stuff I have to get used to."
There was a sequence of Adam masturbating and ejaculating
for the camera, with each stage clearly visible in the
frame. Several shots showcased his bare feet to excellent
advantage while Adam was nude. He was made to lift his legs
way up over his head with soles toward the camera to show
off his spread anus. When the session was concluded Adam
felt slightly ashamed. He'd been a reluctant exhibitionist.
But these photos were mandatory for every Longwood inmate.
*
Mr. Shardgreaves met with Mr. James and Mr. Lowenstein to
discuss the incriminating footage within THE FULL TREATMENT
video shoots. "Yes," Mr. Shardgreaves agreed, "One or both
of these miscreants has a crush on the other." The boys in
question were Marc Sebastian and Adam Sathchild. "You can
tell from the close ups of their bodies with the bitemarks,"
Mr. James explained, "It appears that both of them went easy
on the other when they were paired."
"Certainly," Mr. Lowenstein added, "Marc has only two of his
five wounds oozing blood, one on his neck � like a hickey �
and the other on his wrist � and even those are superficial
within only the slightest of visible dental indentations.
Adam is even worse. Marc's made only one superficial wound
that even broke the skin, and that's on his right shoulder,
which isn't even a particularly sensitive spot. The question
is, 'Do we want homosexuality in our school?' Once started,
it will spread like a contagion."
"I'm afraid I have to reluctantly agree," Mr. Shardgreaves
intoned, "And I thank you both heartily for bringing this
disturbing infraction of school policy to my immediate
attention. The question is, 'How do we punish them?' I'm not
sure another sexual infraction evening for young Sebastian
is the answer."
"No, I think that we can take a more appropriate toll on him
emotionally by punishing his friend," Mr. James suggested.
"How do we accomplish that?" Mr. Shardgreaves asked.
"Simple. We refer it to the Board by placing the dreaded
asterisk next to his name. Adam can be summoned to a little
field trip this coming weekend." Mr. James was being devious
and diabolical simultaneously.
"An asterisk by his name in the profile book should do the
trick," Mr. Lowenstein reiterated.
"Perfect solution," Mr. Shardgreaves assented, "That should
send young Marc into an emotional tizzy and teach both of
them a valuable lesson."
"It looks like young Mr. Sathchild is headed to the Big
Apple. It'll be a little weekend break from the routine
here," Mr. James adroitly added, "Although I fear he won't
appreciate our gesture."
"I doubt he'll be thinking of it as leisure time," Mr.
Lowenstein concluded.
*
It was Friday afternoon when Adam was told of his imminent
excursion and received instructions. He smiled when he was
told that he wouldn't be required to travel in the
traditional Longwood School uniform. He could wear a white
dress shirt and dark gray dress pants, along with light gray
dress socks that he had remembered to pack months before
when he'd first arrived at the notorious reform school. He
would miss supper in the communal dining hall but be picked
up by a Lexus with a real chauffeur behind the wheel. Once
in the luxury car, Adam still was bright with anticipation
and had not the slightest idea how he had merited this
special treatment. From the Lexus, Adam was whisked to the
Gulf of Maine side of the island where he met a small twin-
engine aircraft and would take an exciting airplane ride �
only the second of his life. On the 90-minute flight to
LaGuardia, he considered his first airplane ride, just three
years before when he'd been ten, and with his beloved family
had visited South Padre Island in Texas on a seaside
vacation. What a glorious time they'd had! His Mom's excited
banter and his Dad's swimming with him in the Gulf of
Mexico. "Is this a real ocean Dad?" He'd remembered asking.
They'd even observed a giant sea turtle come ashore on that
island to lay its eggs. Adam's sister had considered her
younger brother's na�vet� rather amusing, being eight years
his senior, but the turtle captivated her as well. Adam
could discern such nuances in her expression. He was an
extremely perceptive if sensitive boy although he'd tried
his utmost to adapt these last few months to the harsh
Longwood regime that he'd been unfairly subjected to. Thank
God he had avoided the kind of painful and humiliating
punishments that Marc had experienced. Lately Marc and he
had been furtively sneaking about the Longwood campus to
spend guilty time with each other. Several heart-to-heart
conversations had ensued during which Marc had explained
some of the horrid procedures and tortures he had endured �
both for absconding with David Frolinger and Richard Prulem
and also for the sexual stuff which was even worse, as Marc
vividly described it. Adam shuddered to think of those
things or anything like it happening to him, and was shy
when it came to the slightest pain or even discomfort. I
know that I have a low tolerance for pain, Adam mused.
Right now, it was early evening, during the brief free time
that he would usually meet with Marc. Instead he was heading
away from Longwood and nobody really knew he was gone. Marc
would head to their appointed meeting place near the second
floor alcove by the vestibule and probably be frantic with
worry by now. This trip to who knows where had come about so
suddenly, too suddenly to let Marc know anything about it.
Adam fondly recalled a hundred fond memories for the next
two hundred air miles. Finally the aircraft began
descending.
*
Marc waited for as long as he dared � about thirty-five
minutes � near the second floor alcove by the vestibule in
the South Building. Where the fuck is Adam? He wondered. It
was only later back in his dorm room with Richard and David
as they were all preparing for lights out during reading
time that the ugly rumor about what had happened to Adam
reached him through his dormies. Richard had overheard Mr.
Lowenstein speaking about Adam to Mr. Shardgreaves. David
had caught a few more elements of the mystery as a
disturbing buzz had already been created about the Lexus,
and several of the more experienced fourteen-year-olds were
all too cognizant about what that probably meant. August
Smith and a few of his peers had even confirmed the worst
possibilities associated with this floating rumor by making
their way up to the lobby in the main building where the
Profile Book was openly displayed. Sure enough, there'd been
a dreaded asterisk inserted by Adam's photo sets and name.
Marc sobbed himself to sleep with the implications. "I
can't stand it," he confided to Richard Prulem, who
painfully at that moment emphasized to Marc with a flashback
and all too relevant reference to his own miseries endured
for absconding, just before Marc capsized from consciousness
while he plunged into his own restless night.
*
Adam deplaned at LaGuardia in the early evening. Met there
by a giant of a man with fierce blazing eyes and a shaven
head, Adam soon entered a brand new silver SUV with tinted
windows so that you couldn't see inside and the man got
behind the wheel and started driving with Adam seated in the
back seat. Where is he taking me? Adam thought to himself.
But the man said not a word, even when spoken to. Thereafter
Adam just sat quietly and napped for awhile. He woke up with
a start in mid-town Manhattan as they were driving through
heavy traffic. Adam had never been to New York City before
and he looked out and could see perfectly well through the
tinted windows, although others could not see in. So many
people! The people looked to be as diverse as could be
imagined. Some of the buildings were tall skyscrapers twenty
or more stories high, so high that Adam couldn't make out
roof tops from the car at street level. He'd never seen so
many different varieties of shops and businesses, and then
they moved past midtown into a more residential district,
towards uptown. Now Adam was glimpsing nice brownstones and
townhouses through the SUV's windows, until they finally
stopped at one, a palatial three-story. It was an impressive
building from the outside, and the silent giant of a shaven-
headed man motioned for Adam to get out and follow him once
they'd parked in a partially hidden driveway. Entering
through a side entrance that wasn't visible from the street,
Adam waited for the giant to follow, but he was already
backing out of the driveway. Not that Adam would have waved
good-bye, as he'd never spoken to the man, but now what?
*
Adam walked through the home, as that's what it was, and the
thirteen-year-old could tell somebody lived there. Once in
the parlor, almost as big as a lobby with lots of expensive
paintings and works of art surrounding him, he sat down on a
white sofa that looked extremely expensive. A moment later,
a tall skinny-looking man in his early fifties strolled into
the room, noticing his guest. He wore a turtleneck and
jeans, and loafers. "Hello there. I'm Mr. Grove. You can
call me Arthur. You must be Adam Sathchild from Longwood.
I'm one of the school's Board members. Mr. William Dickey is
upstairs and he'll be joining us in a minute. We summoned
you here after an asterisk was put by your name in the
Profile Book. It will go much easier on you this weekend if
you listen carefully to everything we say and you obey
without question. Can you do that?
"I g-guess I'll have to sir," Adam managed to reply.
*
Adam was in one of the bathrooms, there were five, taking a
shower as Mr. Dickey had instructed. He was getting "good
and clean" being forewarned that he'd be inspected from head
to toe at some point later that evening. "You'll be punished
severely on that part of your body that isn't clean or that
isn't properly dried," Mr. Grove, or Arthur, had casually
mentioned. He'd heard from Marc about Longwood Board
members, how most of them were sadistic bastards. He
suspected that these two were probably the worst of the
worst. He wasn't far wrong. After getting all the soap
rinsed off, he'd used a washcloth to get soap up inside his
anus. Eventually, Adam shut off the showerhead, stepped out
barefooted and naked, and began toweling himself off with a
thick and rather luxurious bath towel. I have to get really
dry he said to himself aloud. Adam's toweling was much more
thorough than anytime he'd showered in the communal showers
at Longwood. When he figured he was dried enough, Adam began
re-dressing. He put on his white dress shirt and Fruit of
the Loom briefs and gray pants, his Easter Sunday-like dress
shoes and cotton socks, and walked bravely into the parlor
again. What would happen to him this weekend? Adam had no
idea. He began shivering even though he was nice and clean
and dry and dressed. Once again, the thirteen-year-old sat
on the sofa and began waiting.
*
Mr. Dickey came in with Mr. Grove after a moment or two.
"Oh, all clean and dried already?" he asked. "First, we're
going to have a little talk."
"What a handsome young man he is, isn't that true, Mr.
Dickey?"
"Absolutely," Mr. Dickey agreed.
Both men had studied notes about Adam compiled by Longwood
staff, and were about to interrogate the boy with a
fusillade of questions.
Mr. Dickey was balding with wispy white hair rows on either
side of his pate. Possessed of narrowed beady eyes under
military-style eyeglasses, he bore more than a passing
resemblance to a certain man of national influence and
prodigious power. Adam was intimidated almost immediately.
He realized that he couldn't mess with either of these
monsters.
"We have to ask you some questions, young man." Mr. Grove
looked like a vicious sort of adult, Adam thought. He seemed
to sneer at you when he spoke. The man's tone was positively
evil. What am I doing with these awful men? They're worse
than the mean bastards on staff at Longwood.
Mr. Dickey seemed just as bad, maybe worse. He began. "So
you're 13?"
"Yes sir."
"Do you miss living at home with your family?" Mr. Grove was
sneering right in Adam's face. The boy didn't really care.
Besides, it was a stupid question.
"Of course sir," Adam couldn't help saying with a bit of
annoyance.
"Get rid of that attitude, boy. That will earn you a
punishment later this evening." Mr. Dickey abhorred what he
called "attitude" in Longwood inmates.
"We notice that you took THE FULL TREATMENT as an elective
this semester. That is correct?" Mr. Grove's manner was
cruel and merciless.
He's probably no relation to the all-time great baseball
pitcher that went by the nickname "Lefty" Adam mused. He was
an avid collector of Hall of Fame baseball cards, and so
Adam was quite familiar with all the greats. "Yes sir," the
terrified boy managed to answer.
"Does having sex with boys turn you on?"
"It's okay. A lot of the electives have to do with sex. It's
better than ones like DOGGY SEX."
That was a good answer and momentarily startled both men.
They hadn't expected quick comebacks from a boy in this
situation.
Mr. Dickey cut to the chase. "Is there a certain boy that
you've become fond of because you were his sex partner in
that elective?"
Adam tried to shyly demure. He was hoping that the carpet
would swallow him up. He blushed red as a beet. "I don't
know sir," he finally said. He didn't want to get Marc in
trouble again.
"That earns you a regime of punishment this weekend. If
you'd only been candid with us, we might have spared you."
Mr. Dickey was looking smug.
His name ought to be "Dickhead" instead of Dickey, Adam
thought savagely.
Other questions of a personal nature followed. Adam tried to
be honest from that point on.
"How far along in puberty are you? For instance, how many
pubic hairs do you have? If you can guess the exact number,
you may get a reprieve."
What kind of a question was that? How can anyone tell how
many pubes they have � unless a guy only has two or just a
few? But still Adam guessed. "Seventy-three sir," he said.
"You'd better not be lying to us boy. If you guessed, and
guessed wrong, you'll be subjected to a special experiment
involving your pubic hairs," Mr. Grove explained.
"Again, how many?" Mr. Dickey sounded like an interrogator
at a prison camp.
"Seventy-three," Adam stubbornly repeated. His face remained
an embarrassed shade of pink.
"We will count them, and if you are wrong even by a single
pubic hair, we will either pluck them out one at a time with
tweezers or else burn them out at the root." Mr. Dickey was
indeed vicious and sadistic.
Mr. Grove wasn't about to be bested in that department.
"Maybe we'll do a weenie roast at the same time."
Adam stood there trying to be brave. These things sounded
painful. They wouldn't torture him, would they? Because if
it was anything like what happened to Marc or else to some
of the other inmates especially on Friday evenings, then it
was definitely torture. The possibilities were starting to
terrify the boy.
"Someone told us that your Dad used to rub your feet when
you lived at home. How often did this happen?" Mr. Dickey
had a foot fetish, but Adam didn't yet know what that might
entail.
"At happened most times when I went to bed, sirs."
"Did you encourage that?"
"I didn't mind. It felt good and it was my Dad doing it. I
liked his foot rubs." Loved was more like it. Adam would do
anything to be home again with his Dad and Mom right now.
Adam looked forward to those foot rubs especially if he'd
had even a slightly perturbing day at school � his old
school � not this stupid Hell of a reform school called
Longwood.
Mr. Grove took his turn again with a personal question. "How
much can you cum boy?"
"In fact, CAN you cum yet?" Mr. Dickey was insinuating that
Adam wasn't yet old enough to ejaculate.
"I sure can cum sir," Adam said with a little renewal of
attitude. He even smiled knowingly trying to appear more
manly and mature.
"How much can you cum?" Mr. Grove asked brightly. "Again,
don't cheat. Could you fill a coffee cup with your cum with
Mr. Dickey and I watching?"
"I don't know sirs," Adam answered more wisely this time.
"Well, you'll get your chance. We might even do some other
experiments to encourage you." During that attempt at humor,
both men laughed raucously. Adam figured they sounded a lot
like jackals, or jackasses, he wasn't sure which. He thought
of another Hall of Fame baseball great who'd once caught for
the Yankees, name of Bill Dickey. Adam hoped with all of his
heart that the one-time baseball great who happened to be
one of Adam's idols wasn't this one's grandpa or something.
Let's go upstairs to the fun room," this Mr. Dickey invited.
With Mr. Grove prodding him in the pants-covered butt, Adam
had no hope of escaping.
*
The "fun room" was decorated like a cross between a bedroom
and a torture chamber. Macabre photographs of boys being
punished or treated cruelly adorned the walls of the room,
painted a dark blood red. An elevated workbench near the
wide bed was littered with objects that might be needed by
the sadists to cause pain, and everything was within easy
reach. Adam involuntarily shuddered while taking in this
sight, and knew he'd be at the mercy of these creeps for the
bulk of the weekend. What could they do to him? The
possibilities seemed endless. He couldn't stand pain.
*
"Okay, let's get going with our private entertainment. Are
you ready to entertain us with your screams?" Mr. Grove
looked at Adam as if he was about to consume a delicious
meal.
"I won't scream sirs," Adam said bravely. But he knew that
he would. He would probably scream and scream, as even his
friends thought him a bit of a wuss.
"We'd like you the way you were dressed at the end of your
photo session in the Student Profile Book, so that we can
have a clear pathway to your naked skin. Pretty as it is in
photo sets, we'd prefer to enjoy the nude Adam in person,"
calmly explained Mr. Dickey.
"Did you like posing for Mr. Ponagrafia?" Mr. Grove asked
sweetly.
"We had to, sirs. Every boy at Longwood has to have the
pictures made probably because you guys insist on it. I
hated doing it and felt dirty afterward."
"He felt dirty afterward, the little criminal says. That's
too bad!" Mr. Dickey was getting quite annoyed with Adam
Sathchild.
"I'm not a criminal. I'm not even supposed to be at
Longwood. It was a boy who looked like me that they mistook
me for when I was arrested. I didn't do anything!"
"A likely story," said Mr. Dickey, "Do you know how often
we've heard sob stories like yours through the years?"
Adam started crying in indignation from the unfairness of it
all. Recalling why he'd been sent to Longwood always made
him shed a few tears. He'd have received more sympathy from
a pair of Komodo Dragons.
Adam became hostile, certainly an inadvisable strategy in
the situation he was currently in. "You guys probably made
the pictures some kind of stupid rule � so you could jerk
off by looking at our pictures!"
"You've got that right," agreed Mr. Grove. In the privacy of
this cloistered location, he didn't deny it. "We like to see
all of you boys display your pretty charms. It's good and
humiliating for you. You're supposed to be humiliated when
you're sentenced to Longwood. It's a reform school."
"I shouldn't even be at fucking Longwood!"
"Be that as it may," Mr. Grove explained in a slightly
gentler tone, "It's time to take off your shoes."
"Now!" ordered Mr. Dickey.
Adam unlaced and removed each of his black dress shoes. He
stood tensed and angry in his stocking feet, his tears
slowly drying on his cheeks.
"Remove your socks!" Mr. Dickey seemed to become even
angrier, but he was really more excited.
Adam was soon barefooted on the shag-carpeted floor, which
actually felt soft and nice on his bared soles.
"That's much better," hissed Mr. Dickey.
Mr. Grove made him remove his gray pants. "Good," he said,
after Adam complied.
"Now your underpants," Mr. Dickey ordered.
Adam reluctantly slid his white Fruit of the Looms down his
bare legs and slipped them off his bare feet. He still had
on the white dress shirt, and he pulled it downwards as far
as he could.
"He's quite a handsome boy! One of the most attractive
inmates we've ever brought here for the pain threshold
experiments," blurted Mr. Grove.
Adam grimaced when he heard that phrase 'pain threshold.' It
couldn't be a fun place for him this weekend, this fun room.
"Now, unbutton your shirt, one button at a time," said Mr.
Dickey with his face an intimidating scowl. Adam had no
choice but to obey. He started with the top button, and soon
had all five unfastened. The shirt was now open exposing his
entire front side. Adam's precious modesty was all but gone.
"Take off your shirt, and pick up all your clothes off the
carpet and lay them neatly on that chair in the corner," Mr.
Dickey said. Adam was nude now, as the original male had
once been according to the Bible.
"Stand at attention, boy, penis too, so make yourself hard
and then stand up straight hands behind your head so that we
can both get a good look at you."
Young Sathchild's face reddened, as he knew he had to fondle
himself before these two perverts. Soon his penis was at
half-mast, sticking out nearly perpendicularly from his 7th
grader's pubescent nudity, and his hands were appropriately
placed behind his head.
Both pederast sadists prolonged this phase of the boy's
physical inspection, recalling how the boy had mentioned
"feeling dirty" just by posing for nude photos back at
Longwood. "He's got nice little nipples," Mr. Grove
remarked, and both men were commenting on his other
attributes while he stood at attention. Mr. Grove pinched
each of his nipples between thumb and forefingers, hard
pinches that hurt, but Adam kept his composure although he
bit his lip from the sudden sharp pain. Mr. Grove also
pinched and pulled his "belly fat" several times although
Adam was actually close to his ideal weight with very little
fat on him. He also stroked Adam's sides along the ribs,
gently tickling, and reached for Adam's cock, pulling it out
further about three extra inches from his body as if it were
made of taffy, grasping it right behind Adam's cockhead, and
lastly he gave the boy's balls a "good squeeze." Mr. Dickey
made Adam lift up his feet so that he could check to see if
he'd cleaned and dried between each of his toes. The wicked
man also ran his sharpened index fingernail first up one
sole from heel to toes and then tried the same routine on
Adam's right foot. Again, Mr. Dickey caught the boy
grimacing. "Physicians refer to this as testing your
Babinski reflex," explained Mr. Dickey.
"Turn around boy," Mr. Grove said, continuing the
inspection, and Adam was made to spread his legs wide apart
so that the men might inspect his opened anus, and then more
so when they made the boy use both hands and bend over to
spread his butt-cheeks apart. Adam was beyond embarrassment.
His state of mind approached abject mortification.
It somehow got worse when the inspection continued for about
another hour with the thirteen-year-old spread-eagled and
handcuffed to the bedposts and lying on the wide bed. First,
he was inspected while lying on his stomach and finally
while turned over and lying on his back. By the time this
phase of the weekend was nearing its end, both men were
quite familiar with Adam's body.
Adam was secured to the wide bed while spread-eagled nude on
his back when Mr. Grove and Mr. Dickey began working as a
team to discover the initial results of Adam's pain
thresholds. The boy had been close to dozing off, resting
his eyes, when it started.
Mr. Grove spoke first. "I'm going to start by preparing your
urethra for the experiments we'll do this weekend, and while
I'm busy with your penis, Mr. Dickey will test each of your
toes for flexibility limits. Ready?"
"Huh? What?" Adam said. He was just opening his eyes again.
The light in the room suddenly seemed brighter than it had
been, and glaring.
*
Mr. Grove had several Q-tips that'd been generously soaked
in alcohol at the ready and he showed them to Adam. "I'm
going to insert these Q-tips into your piss-slit one at a
time. It will certainly burn a little if nobody's done this
to you before. So here goes nothing!" But to Adam each
insertion was something. He stared at Mr. Grove wide-eyed
when the first one went into his pee-hole and a burning
sensation began. It was unpleasant but not unbearable so
Adam failed to scream. Most boys didn't complain so much
about a single Q-tip insertion, unless it was coated with
something more caustic. But when the second was inserted all
the way up Adam's penis, threading it until the foreign
object had been embedded to nearly its entire length of
three inches, and then a third Q-tip, and a fourth, and a
fifth -- Adam was moaning in pain. Not only had the burning
become more intense � the boy's pee-hole had to unnaturally
stretch to accommodate the Q-tips. "Stop squirming, boy, we
have to widen your urethra for your own good. Your penis has
to be prepared for the weekend's fun. You don't want any
permanent damage in there, do you?" A sixth Q-tip was the
last straw, stretching the little opening still further.
"Owwh!" Adam let out a little cry of anguish, if not a full-
fledged scream. The little cry of anguish might also have
resulted from what Mr. Dickey was suddenly doing to his
toes, starting with Adam's big toe on his left foot. He was
bending the 7th graders toes, all the way back, as far as
they would go without breaking, straining the 13-year-old's
toe joints to their outer limits. After working Adam's left
big toe for several minutes, the monster was on to Adam's
second toe on that foot, and he paused to comment, "I like
this little space you have between your first and second
toes on each foot. Does this hurt?"
"Yes! Stop it! Please stop it sir!" Adam yelled.
"Isn't it just like your Dad's foot massage?"
"No sir, it isn't!"
"Doesn't he massage your toes?"
"He doesn't do it like that!"
Again, the boy pleaded for Mr. Dickey to stop the torture.
"Stop it! Please sir!" Adam yelled, almost shrieking now.
But of course Mr. Dickey, and his powerful fingers, knew
better than the boy did about what was necessary for his own
good.
*
Before Friday evening's horrors ended, Mr. Grove brought out
a small instrument for causing pain that looked like a hoe
for digging earth. It was small, with a handle, with five
extremely sharp-pointed steel prongs in the end, each
slightly curved. "This is a scratcher to prepare you for
tonight's comprehensive flogging, Adam." Adam was lying on
his stomach whimpering, his toes probably all sprained and
his cock feeling filled and stretched with those damn Q-tips
still embedded.
"We each have one. I'll start it on your neck and back and
Mr. Dickey will begin on your soles. Now, I'm going to warn
you. This is going to really hurt!" That's when the awful
scratching began. Adam gritted his teeth as Mr. Grove made
scratches, about a quarter-inch deep, on the back of the
boy's neck and then started abrading the bare skin on Adam's
back and eventually all over his buttocks. Meanwhile, Mr.
Dickey was proceeding with deliberate cruelty on Adam's left
sole, going over it and over it, it seemed, and whenever he
went over already scored flesh it hurt even more. "Time for
your right one now," Mr. Dickey finally said with a
satisfied tone after scoring Adam's left sole raw. Adam just
screamed non-stop. When it was time to scratch Adam's front
side, Mr. Grove began digging in with the hoe-like utensil
methodically scratching the boy's chest. Proceeding to the
thirteen-year-old's underarms including his young armpits,
was great fun for Mr. Grove, and then the sadistic pederast
raked Adam's sensitive belly and sides and rib areas, it
seemed endlessly and always slowly, as the boy screamed
bloody murder. While he continued into Adam's groin area,
even scoring his scrotum with the cruel instrument, and not
neglecting his penis root to tip including the underside, he
held Adam's pretty cockhead up to properly scratch the boy's
sensitive glans. Mr. Dickey did the screaming boy's shins
and then proceeded up his legs to his fleshy thighs. After
this preparatory treatment, Adam was handcuffed with his
arms extended above his head and cruelly whipped all over
his lacerated body with a medium strap until he was
generally bloodied and had finally passed out from the pain.
So went Friday.
*
Adam was made to walk and led to a private bedroom with a
shower and toilet. "That's where you'll be sleeping tonight,
young man," Mr. Grove explained. He was given back his
toiletries, including toothbrush, and he showered, taking a
pleasantly warm shower temperature-wise, but the water stung
many of his little cuts and bruises. He dried off
thoroughly, having been warned about that, and dry, he lay
down on the bed, and covered his naked body with a sheet and
light blanket. The arrangements were comfortable enough.
Even a reading lamp had been provided, but the only books
available were The Bible and the Lives of the Saints, a
Catholic book that Adam glanced at. It was an illustrated
version featuring and emphasizing boy martyrs, most of them
being scourged and crucified, and Adam started sobbing,
musing about what Saturday might bring. He was to be ready
for another day of "pain threshold work" as Mr. Grove and
Mr. Dickey called it, and one or both of the cruel sadists
would be fetching him at 9:45 a.m. sharp. He stopped his
crying jag and before he knew it, began to doze off.
Adam awoke realizing where he was at around 8:15 a.m.
"Shit," he said to himself. In a way, he wanted to just get
the day over with, but he feared the pain. He would have
liked to have escaped and hid, disappearing into the giant
city. But he couldn't do it naked, and would never make it
out of this fortress of a house, so he resigned himself to
his fate. For about a half-hour, he just stared at the
ceiling, a blank white one with little swirls of plaster,
and lay quietly on his back under the covers. He was tempted
to pull the covers up over his head, and become invisible,
as he'd tell his mom when he was like seven, in second
grade, but he was too old for those kinds of games. At
around 8:50 a.m. he got up out of bed, his body had healed
some, he was sore, but not as much as he'd expected to be.
Again, he went into the bathroom to use the toilet and
shower again, and also to brush his teeth and use mouthwash,
and he examined a few of his worst welts and cuts in the
mirror as best he could. Finally, he returned to the bed
after carefully making it up, and he lay on top of the
covers in his birthday suit, to wait for his tormentors.
*
Mr. Dickey came to fetch Adam at exactly 9:47 a.m., but two
minutes isn't much of a reprieve. "Good, you're awake and
ready at least. We have a long day together. How long have
you been up?"
"A while, since a little after eight."
"Ready for some fun?"
"I won't be having any fun."
"No, but this is a good experience for you."
Why? Adam wanted to ask. But that would probably anger Mr.
Dickey. So Adam held his tongue. "Whatever," he said,
without much enthusiasm.
Mr. Dickey led Adam back to the bedroom that was also his
torture chamber. It was also upstairs, and pretty close to
the room that they'd put him into to sleep for the night.
Mr. Grove was waiting with a cheerful face. "Did you sleep
well Adam?"
"I guess sir," Adam replied honestly. What was he supposed
to say?
"Lay back down on the bed on your back, and extend your arms
above your head," Mr. Dickey said. "We're going to begin
today's pain threshold experiments on your front side," he
added casually.
"Yes, get into position as we have a lot to accomplish young
man," Mr. Grove said.
Adam knew better than to argue. At any rate, the sooner it
began, the sooner it would end. Soon the nude boy spread-
eagled on his back was properly tethered. He felt a sense of
dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't really guess
what cruel games these sadistic creeps would be perpetrating
on his totally accessible body today. Imaginary insects
loitered in his stomach recesses, but certainly they weren't
butterflies. He could move his legs and feet but decided not
to. Mr. Dickey was down near his feet, as was becoming
predictable. Mr. Grove grasped Adam's circumcised penis and
began fondling it so that the seventh grader's organ was
hard. The touching felt pleasant, but Adam knew this to just
be a prelude for something nasty. "I think that your cock
needs to be smoothed out some. I'm going to use this nail
file to tenderize it nicely, and then we might have a little
weenie roast. Do you know whose weenie we're going to
roast?"
"No! No! Sir, you can't!" Adam screamed. But Mr. Grove
already started applying the tiny sandpaper-edged nail file
down near the root of the boy's cock. Rubbing it vigorously,
this was painful and began leaving reddened raw spots, and
Mr. Grove nonchalantly started humming some stupid patriotic
tune as he worked. He was doing the sensitive underside of
Adam's penis first, proceeding with great deliberation up
toward Adam's even more sensitive glans.
Meanwhile, Mr. Dickey had a nasty smile on his monstrous
face. "This boy has beautiful feet, but there are some
exercises that he's apparently neglected that must be tended
to. Thank God I'm around."
God has nothing to do with him Adam mused.
I sincerely hope these bastards end up in Hell, the boy
thought maliciously. Normally, Adam was a gentle kid, not
much given to malicious thoughts. Meanwhile, Mr. Grove was
calmly using the nail file all over Adam's bare cock, which
hurt, but not that badly yet. Adam just gritted his teeth.
Mr. Dickey held a pair of tweezers with the hand that he
used to suddenly start plucking hairs out of the skin atop
Adam's left big toe. He only had five or six hairs there,
but it hurt, as he was plucking the hairs out very slowly,
and one at a time. "Owwh!" Adam said. He raised his voice at
the sudden sharp pain, but not to the loudness of a yell,
and certainly not to a scream. Mr. Dickey's other hand
firmly grasped the thirteen-year-old's heel to keep the foot
steady.
"Hair is very filthy," Mr. Dickey said, as if to justify his
actions. "We're going to pluck out all of your body hair
this way," he casually stated.
"Whatever," Adam said, disgusted but powerless to stop these
bastards. He took pride in his body hair � even the few
hairs on the tops of his toes.
While Mr. Dickey plucked out a hair on Adam's left middle
toe with the tweezers, Mr. Grove was on to more painful
"experiments."
"I have to do this, so stop biting your lip so hard," Mr.
Grove said. 'This' was the nail file scraping painfully
along Adam's sensitive glans. He was curling his toes on his
right foot AND biting his lip to manage this new torment.
Mr. Grove hadn't noticed the twitching of Adam's right toes.
But Mr. Dickey did. "Stop that stupid twitching with your
toes on the right foot," he said, "I'm going to give them a
real reason to twitch in a few minutes anyway."
"But what he's doing to my dickhead really hurts, sir," Adam
said, beginning to bawl.
"Actually, I'm going to file it nice and red and raw, to
make it more sensitive for your weenie roast which is coming
up next," Mr. Grove patiently explained.
Mr. Dickey began pulling out toe hairs on Adam's right foot.
"Owwh!" The boy cried out.
*
Mr. Grove brought out a pen-sized-and-shaped low-grade "boy
burner" as he referred to it. This torture implement had
come to be used by Longwood's jaded community of sadists for
just the purpose of targeting with extremely painful heat
the most sensitive areas of an inmate's body without the
risk of irrevocably damaging the boy's skin. "It's safe to
use and so compact and efficient," Mr. Grove bragged.
"I guess you're ready to roast his weenie," Mr. Dickey
joked. He liked to use the little "boy burner" too because
healing the burned areas only took a day or two. But it sure
produced the desired effects scream-wise!
"No," Adam begged, "Please don't cook my cock with that
thing! Please sir! I'm begging you!"
Mr. Grove held Adam's nearly four-inch circumcised penis by
the base and jiggled it a bit so that another slight
erection somehow ensued. Adam's cock didn't know any better
and was just responding to the pleasant manual stimulation.
Mr. Grove eagerly brought the little "boy burner" closer to
the boy's ultra-sensitive glans so that Adam whimpered when
the tip of the pen-like instrument with the tiny flame
shooting out of its tip was less than an inch from his bare
pinkish glans. "Scares the heck out of you hey boy?"
commented the vicious Mr. Grove. "Don't worry. It will hurt
a great deal when it touches your bare skin, but it only
affects the two outer layers. Thank God for technology,
right young man?"
Adam was pretty sure that Mr. Grove didn't really expect him
to answer. The questions had to be rhetorical.
Meanwhile, Mr. Dickey was about to begin a new experiment in
pain threshold on Adam's feet. He produced a peculiar
instrument with jagged metal edges on its business end that
looked like something to trim calluses with except that its
tiny head seemed serrated. "I couldn't help but notice that
you didn't clean under your toenails very thoroughly this
morning in your ablutions," Mr. Dickey explained, "So now
you've forced me to use this cute little instrument to dig
out all that filthiness. You ought to thank me, boy.
Unfortunately, this will hurt a great deal."
"No! You can't!" Adam screamed. The "toenail digger" as it
was called at Longwood did engender a particular dread among
those inmates who'd experienced its torture or who were
about to experience it. "Please sir!" Adam implored. "I beg
you!"
"I'm going to begin with your left foot's big toenail," Mr.
Dickey said, not to be deterred by mere pleading and
screaming. I will warn you, anytime I do this, and you WILL
hold your foot steady. Or else, I will just do the same nail
bed again."
"It's going to hurt," Adam whined.
"Naturally. What do you think we're doing this for? Again, I
repeat what we told you earlier. It is to determine your
pain thresholds!"
Eight times he dug with the "toenail digger" underneath
Adam's left big toenail. Finally, the 13-year-old earned a
bit of a reprieve. "On to your next toenail," Mr. Dickey
exclaimed. By then, the boy was already hoarse from
screaming with nine more toenails to be "done" each in its
turn. Mr. Dickey always grasped the boy's foot firmly by the
heel and instep as Adam attempted not to squirm unduly � but
as usual the pain was excruciating and the boy kept
instinctively pulling his foot away, as his tolerance for
pain wasn't extraordinary.
*
While the "boy burner" caused only a burn that resembled
very severe sunburn, Mr. Grove enjoyed carefully roasting
Adam's penis "like a little hot dog" and also used the awful
instrument on Adam's scrotum, mainly to see how intense the
boy's wails of distress could get. Screams did not bother
Mr. Grove or Mr. Dickey no matter how loud they became. He
also traced a burn line � like a red streak � across Adam's
bare belly and chest including directly atop each nickel-
sized nipple -- just to observe firsthand how sensitive the
flesh was on those sites. Mr. Grove followed through on an
earlier commitment to burn off each of Adam's pubic hairs,
after he'd counted only nineteen such "pubes," as the boys
called them. "We told you that you shouldn't have lied about
your pubes when we asked you. A simple 'I don't know' would
have sufficed."
"Please don't burn them off," Adam begged, "Can't you use
the tweezers like Mr. Dickey did with my toe hairs?"
Mr. Dickey opted to use the fiendish little 'boy-burner' on
Adam's meaty thighs, and on his legs and feet. He
deliberately allowed the little flame to linger a bit longer
than usual in sensitive places that satisfied the awful
man's foot fetish. Mr. Dickey must have traced a hundred red
burn lines comprehensively on Adam's soles and between all
of the poor screaming boy's tender toes, and worked the top
portions of the boy's feet for good measure.
"I find the balls of his feet and his insteps both on his
soles and the top portions of his feet as the most exciting
locations to use the boy burner," Mr. Dickey couldn't help
but remark.
It was a bit difficult to be heard above the din of the
boy's screams but this was pretty typical the torturers
realized. "He's an excellent subject, isn't he?" reported
the vicious Mr. Dickey.
"Damn right," agreed Mr. Grove.
At one point, during the orgy of pain, Adam was turned over
and secured by the wrists in the handcuffs so that he lay on
his stomach. Besides burn lines being etched in various
places on his backside from Adam's neck down to his tender
heels, his sturdy legs being widely spread (Mr. Dickey and
Mr. Grove took care of this detail) made the seventh
grader's exposed anus a convenient target for the "boy
burner." Adam learned over and over during at least a half-
hour session that having your anus meticulously seared is
anything but fun.
After Adam's noontime comprehensive flogging, Mr. Dickey
used a very light cane, except soaked it in brine, the boy
was allowed to have a light lunch prior to his Saturday
afternoon session. The remarkable fact was that he managed
to hold his food down, in this case an American cheese
sandwich of the sort that Adam normally loved � but under
these circumstances, whatever food he was fed would be bound
to acquire a distasteful significance.
The highlight of Saturday afternoon's session for the two
torturers was a several-phase game the men played with the
boy's urethra. Mr. Grove explained it to the boy in
educational fashion. "See this itsy bitsy little metal ball-
bearing? We're going to use this thin plastic coffee-
stirring straw to insert it down near the base of your penis
� just above your bladder, through your piss-slit of course,
although unfortunately this procedure won't hurt all that
much."
"But what will follow sure will." Mr. Dickey's visage
morphed with an incongruous "shit-eating" grin. "We'll take
turns using this dentist's tool � a little metal scraper
with a sharp curved end usually used for scraping tartar off
teeth. You must have been to a dentist where this instrument
was used, as your teeth are very nice. Anyway we're going to
take turns going back down your little piss-slit using the
dental tartar scraper to locate and retrieve the ball-
bearing, bringing the foreign object right back up your
entire urethra. It should hurt a lot more than anything else
we've done to you so far, and if we happen to scrape the
walls of your inner pisser and bring up little pieces of
bloody tissue, so be it!"
"Lastly, to cauterize the wounds we'll be making on your
inner pisser, the boy burner will have to be periodically
inserted all the way down inside your penis � so we can
greatly diminish any threat of infection. So there's a lot
to do � let's get started, shall we young man?"
This surely was a rhetorical question, as Adam merely gazed
in abject horror and terror as it sunk in at what Mr. Dickey
and Mr. Grove were about to do to him. He whimpered, but
tried to brace for what he knew would be unimaginable pain �
possibly the worst he'd experienced so far.
"These exercises will make you appreciate why we inserted
those Q-tips to widen your urethra. You're going to be
thanking us pretty soon," Mr. Grove added.
I doubt it," Adam muttered under his breath, but
unfortunately both men overheard the boy's comment.
Mr. Grove held up the boy's very sore cock so that the thin
stirring straw could first be inserted. Mr. Dickey mimicked
a Peruvian primitive when he blew hard through the straw and
shot the tiny ball-bearing deep down into the seventh-
grader's tortured appendage as if he were shooting a curare-
laced dart. At that instant, poor Adam might well have
wished that the evil man was doing exactly that � as if to
put an end to his suffering. The boy wasn't going to be so
lucky.
The men took turns digging down deep inside Adam's pene with
the horrid dental scraper. Frequently, little bits of bloody
tissue were retrieved without the damn ball bearing.
Exacerbating his ordeal, about every ten or fifteen minutes,
Adam would watch in abject terror as the boy burner slowly
advanced upon his pee-hole. Both men would often tease the
13-year-old with the hot probe tracing what seemed like
endless burn lines on every conceivable part of the boy's
sensitive glans. "This is fun," Mr. Grove liked to say while
watching Adam's various expressions and bodily contortions
with intense interest. "I'm fascinated by this," he said
several times. Finally, it was time for the searing hot
probe to enter Adam's penis. "Okay, in we go," Mr. Dickey
particularly liked to comment. "Please, will you hold still
young man? I have to get it down into your piss-slit as far
as possible, or it defeats our purpose."
"Yeowwh!" Adam's screams often rose in pitch, morphing into
beastly howls that were music to the men's ears. Not
surprisingly, he fainted several times from the excruciating
pain. Each time he was cruelly revived. It took a little
over two hours of intermittent torment, during which the
boy's screams were nearly incessant � before the ball
bearing, coated with blood and extracted fragments of Adam's
urethral tissue � finally made its appearance.
After that hideous exercise, anything else they perpetrated
on Adam was decidedly anti-climatic.
*
By Sunday afternoon, the pain threshold experiments on Adam
Sathchild were mercifully concluded. Adam was left to
recover for a few hours in "his room" where he'd slept the
two previous nights, and he had The Bible and the jaded
version of The Lives of the Saints within easy reach. But
after the ordeals that he'd been subjected to, he instead
fell asleep in hopes of lessening the throbbing pain he was
feeling in most parts of his body. In fact, when he woke up,
he did feel a bit more comfortable, and was well enough to
travel. On the plane, he fell asleep again to combat the
pain, and was told that he would be allowed to rest in the
Longwood infirmary all day on Monday rather than return
immediately to his original schedule. Meanwhile, subsequent
to Adam's return, Marc Sebastian nearly went crazy with
emotional distress over what had happened to his friend --
and what Adam chose to do following his release from the
infirmary only served to send Marc into worse fits of
distress. This, or some tidings akin to it, had been the
plan to discourage homosexuality initially launched by
Longwood's zealous staffers. Did they ever pause to consider
how their archaic and utterly reactionary method of cruel
discipline might backfire?
*
For the next two weeks, Adam became an outpatient in the
Longwood infirmary. For instance, his burns were checked.
All were superficial but needed to be monitored in case of
any incipient infections. The school nurse re-applied a
medicating salve with a Q-tip inside his urethra every
Thursday. "Are you having any trouble urinating Adam?"
"No."
"Any pain while urinating?"
"There was for a day or two after I first came back from New
York City, but not since then."
"Good," she said. Mrs. Nancy Thompson was more empathetic
than most of the Longwood staffers, Adam thought. She was
also a R.N. � or registered nurse, just like a friend of his
Mom's also named Nancy. Longwood did have an on-call
emergency physician, but he was only seen occasionally
around the infirmary or else other Longwood environs.
More significant were Adam's emotional changes, and ways of
dealing with the trauma he had suffered. Now he ignored Marc
whenever they met by chance in the halls and dormitories, as
if he didn't even know him.
Finally, about three weeks after Adam returned from his
ordeal, Marc caught up with his friend and wrestled him to
the ground, pinning his arms down above his head and forcing
him to respond. It was an uncertain moment for both boys,
and it was fortunate they were alone.
"What the f__ck is going on with you?" Marc said. He had
tears in his eyes, and was also angry.
For a few anxious seconds, Adam just stared up at his
friend, and his pent-up emotions were like a dam about to
burst. Like an explosion of pain, the sensitive Adam broke
out sobbing. Marc knew that his worst fears were true.
Something terrible had happened to his friend on that New
York City trip. Whatever it was had to be far worse than any
approximated rumor being bandied about Longwood by the other
inmates.
*
Eventually Adam was able to talk about it to his friend.
Marc learned that the details were gorier and more
despicable than he'd even believed possible � worse
certainly than his trials of the first offense absconding
punishment session and possibly worse than the sexual
infraction ordeal that he had somehow endured. They began
meeting secretly again in their old meeting place whenever
they got the chance. Soon they realized that they were
probably being tailed. It would only be a matter of time,
perhaps days or even hours, before some snitching inmate
discovered and reported them and got them both punished on
some trumped up infraction. Adam was increasingly thinking
of only one plan: Escape from Longwood. Marc was hesitant
and leery of running again, he had more to risk. For
example, if he were captured and brought back to face
punishment for absconding, it would be a second offense and
a much worse ordeal than the one he'd shared with David
Frolinger and Richard Prulem. They'd do something horrible
to his toes, if not break them, and a host of other hideous
tortures for the entertainment of sadistic bastards on the
island along with Longwood Board members and participating
or attending Longwood staffers. But the pressure from Adam
was insistent and determined. He was going to bolt from
Longwood, and he'd try it alone if Marc wouldn't go with
him. Marc knew that David and Richard would never attempt a
second escape, and might even report him out of fear if he
confided in them. So any plan had to be meticulously
executed and kept secret. It was about three additional days
before Marc made his decision. He knew that it was his only
real choice.
*
On the road again! Adam and Marc were past the perimeter of
Longwood property but still on the island. They weren't out
of the woods yet, and in fact, were running in only dim
moonlight through a pine forest dressed in their Longwood
inmate duds so that this was also true literally. The window
of time before they'd be missed and dogs would be sent after
them sniffing their scents was quickly expiring. They were
vicious dogs � the same dogs that Richard Prulem had met in
his DOGGY SEX elective. Marc mentioned this to Adam, and
both forced a trickle of nervous laughter in each other. It
was an effort to break the tension. To be tracked down like
boy rabbits, however, was bound to be quite terrifying in
the darkness as well as painful to an unknown degree. Adam
feared it most as he'd never been bitten or even nipped by a
dog. He also recalled that he had a low tolerance for pain �
despite what he'd been forced to endure at the hands of Mr.
Grove and Mr. Dickey. Mr. Grove and Mr. Dickey now populated
young Sathchild's dreams like the most hideous of bogeys.
"What would one of those dogs do to us if they caught us?"
Adam asked his friend.
"You can just imagine." Marc told him.
Unfortunately, Adam COULD well imagine the effect that dog
fangs might have on sensitive portions of his anatomy. Those
staffers from Longwood might just do something like strip
the boys � and let the dogs have at them unfettered for a
terrible moment. For some reason, both absconders thought
this identical musing at precisely the same instant. A
juvenile shuddering shattered the forest stillness, crossing
wide expanses of their inner psyches as unspoken terror.
*
Marc Sebastian and Adam Sathchild were discovered as missing
at just about the time that both boys were fantasizing about
vicious dogs attacking their naked bodies. The Longwood
Reform School chase team was mobilized within minutes, dogs
and all.
Mr. Bostich was in the dimly lit office of Mr. Shardgreaves.
Mr. Randeazy was present too, as was Mr. Moriarty who would
soon be unleashing his dogs. "We expected them to abscond,
but not to gain such a headstart!" Mr. Shardgreaves
exclaimed. Mr. James and Mr. Lowenstein soon burst into the
headmaster's office as well, joined by the trotting Mr. Pike
and Mr. Stone.
"They would need an excellent plan to actually make good
their escape from our island," Mr. James opined. "Let's go,
we can still catch them � and then if we do, they'll be
punished for their mischief!" he added.
"In my experience, boys hardly ever plan well," said Mr.
Lowenstein.
"I did expect Marc Sebastian to try and leave. This is his
second attempt at absconding. I can tell you that the young
man will truly suffer when we bring him back. We should make
him and the Sathchild boy examples of perfidy for our entire
school to learn from � for the underlying reason
especially."
"Especially," declared Mr. James, "As we can't encourage the
practice of homosexuality among our inmates. We must pounce
on them and make examples of them in no uncertain terms!"
*
The dogs, Archie, Tiger, and Ralph were given bits of the
absconded boys soiled underwear taken from the Longwood main
laundry room to sniff, and to recognize their scents without
fail. "A shirt won't do? Mr. Moriarty, their underwear must
be used?" Mr. Shardgreaves was amazingly less experienced in
the nitty-gritty of such practical matters.
"It must," Mr. Moriarty insisted.
Mr. Pike agreed. "Soiled underwear is used in prison camps
throughout the world for this very purpose," he said with an
air of quiet conviction.
"He knows," mirrored Mr. Stone, in open admiration of Mr.
Pike because of his well-known experience with such places.
Soon the search party was headed out of doors into the
island's shrouded night. A few moments later, with their
night lanterns leading the way, all that could be heard was
the shrill barking of the vicious dogs and the sounds of the
chase. No Longwood inmate had ever managed to escape, and
they weren't too worried about that eventuality this time.
*
Marc and Adam barely made out the sounds at first, the
barking of the dogs in pursuit, but soon the bestial clarion
was unmistakable, and their fantastic nightmare of mere
moments before looked to be actually taking shape. "Shh! I
think I hear something!" Marc whispered
"What?" Adam muttered.
The sounds were heading toward them through the woods.
Getting closer. Soon they were recognizable.
"Dogs!" Both boys shrieked, so terror-stricken that it
seemed evident in each other's face, even as both youngsters
relied on their night vision, rods dominating their inner
eyes instead of cones.
Fortunately Marc Sebastian did have a plan, and it was well
rehearsed with Adam. The boys were now sent swiftly into
motion. With sharp teenaged eyes acclimated to the darkness,
they were more sure of which trees they were pursuing than
they had any right to be. "It's either this one or that one
� and there's a dock getting to it," Marc said with pseudo-
certainty. He was trying to sound braver to his friend than
he was.
"There it is!" he shouted.
*
It was a twenty-foot skiff equipped with a powerful
outboard, and Marc knew from experience at his parent's
summer cottage exactly how to start one.
Roawawwwwwh! Roawawwwwwh! Roawawwwwwh! The skiff's motor was
loud, and broke the island's stillness in an instant.
The sound of the outboard was not lost on their pursuers.
"Shit! I can't believe it! The little bastards are getting
away!" yelled Mr. Pike.
"We've never had a successful escape from Longwood,"
murmured Mr. Shardgreaves, sounding like a school historian
at that moment, instead of like the headmaster he was in all
of his officious glory.
"How did they know how to find that outboard � it's the most
powerful on the island?" Mr. James was openly questioning
the unfathomable.
"I took them on a hike," admitted Mr. Lowenstein, "a few
weeks ago, and Marc spotted the skiff, and even asked about
the outboard."
"And you told him?" Mr. Shardgreaves was suddenly enraged.
Mr. Stone took out his hand-held glock, and fired it into
the night in defense of law and order and in his mind, of
all things right. He aimed his weapon in the direction of
sound, in this case of the skiff's outboard motor, in much
the same manner that a pit viper strikes when it senses the
body heat of its warm-blooded prey.
The glock's bullet whizzed by Adam's head; nicking his
earlobe, and making it bleed. "Owwh!" he shrieked, "I've
been shot!"
Marc was concentrating on the vast Gulf of Maine, and
thinking only of making it to the mainland safely in the
dead of night. He throttled the engine full for all he was
worth; a rattlesnake of a boy suddenly blessed with a sense
of purpose, as well as an unerring sense of direction.
*
The rest of this tale reads like epilogue, its sentences
bursting with exposition. The ending isn't the happiest, or
the most predictable, although it is pregnant with
consequences. Longwood's sadistic pedagogues never could
have foreseen such consequences.
*
Adam's wound wasn't serious, and in fact, was barely a
scratch. Both boys discussed what might have been, however,
if the bullet had hit an inch or two from where it did.
An all points bulletin was put out for the absconded
miscreants. The authorities referred to Marc Sebastian and
Adam Sathchild as "unlawful enemy combatants" � feeling
little compunction about embellishing their nefarious status
as criminals. But days and soon weeks passed without law
enforcement discovering any clues to the whereabouts of the
boys other than that their skiff had been abandoned at a
remote location on Maine's Down East shore and an elderly
woman had spotted them fleeing the scene on foot.
The tragedy of their childhood is that in being continually
on the lam, they had only each other's company as fugitives.
Writers and historians like to speculate about these missing
years, about how certain clues pointed to the boys living in
the backwoods of south-central Canada in a remote cabin,
like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, only demonized to a much
greater extent than were those fictional heroes. For years,
the cryptic stories spun around the exploits of Marc and
Adam tantalized rebellious boys in two countries, if not, in
fact, boys all over the civilized world. But there is a time
and place where legend ends and truth can finally be told.
Now is that time and place to tell a bit about what actually
happened. Decades have passed and this writer has been
privileged to gain an audience with the great men that Marc
Sebastian and Adam Sathchild eventually became. I will
publish a small portion of the resulting interview in its
entirety as the long awaited conclusion to this very tale. I
have tears in my eyes even now as I recall that wondrous
interview. Their great victory was so improbable as to be
legitimately referred to as an extraordinary triumph of the
human spirit. The anger and purpose that fueled their
historic ambitions was common to both: Their individual
incarcerations. Thank God they were successful in
transforming our world into what it is today.
*
Other loose ends must be dealt with.
Richard Prulem eventually was released from Longwood and
went back to what was by all accounts an uneventful life
with his family. Once an adult, he became a decorated
soldier in the U.S. Army, a dedicated Ranger who committed
suicide while on a combat tour to Canada in the latter
stages of the utterly misnamed War Against Terror. Prulem
was 23 at the time of his death. His patriotism was unshaken
to the extent that it appeared obsessive to some observers.
Any opinions he might have harbored about the outlaw Marc
Sebastian will perhaps never be known. Prulem's odd love of
dogs was considered to be quixotic behavior to the outside
world, as details of his DOGGY SEX elective experienced at
Longwood were never publicized. What was publicized was a
domestic dispute featured in the hometown newspaper of the
New Hampshire town where Prulem and his wife had eventually
settled. The Laconia Beacon printed a twisted tale of
misbegotten lust partially culled from a contemporary police
report. Apparently his repulsed wife had caught Prulem in
the act of fellating Duke, the couple's three-year-old
German Shepard, a docile pet. "I couldn't even look at
either of them for months," Mindy Prulem is reported to have
said years later in a follow-up interview. "Eventually, we
made a mutual decision to put Duke down."
David Frolinger became an orthodox rabbi and eventually
moved to Andorra. Subsequent to his release from Longwood
Reform School, he'd graduated from conventional high school,
college, and rabbinical school and left the country. "I
can't live in this country anymore," he'd said. But at the
age of thirty-one, Frolinger vanished from the Andorran
synagogue where he was also cantor, never to be seen again.
He'd married by then and fathered eight children who never
knew why their father had chosen to convert to Judaism � let
alone become a rabbi. "He always said it had to do with a
boyhood trauma he'd experienced but he'd never provide
details," his wife would say. "I do know that he loved his
foreskin," she added, "I mean really loved it. When we were
intimate, he couldn't ejaculate until he'd compel me to have
a conversation with his foreskin. I felt silly speaking to
his foreskin. What Jewish man does that? I would have
divorced the nutcase, if it weren't for our kids."
Mr. Shardgreaves and his dedicated staffers at Longwood kept
on keeping on for more than a decade until one summer night
in 2019 when the well-regarded reform school was
inexplicably targeted by an apparent terrorist and blown to
smithereens. A so-called dirty bomb had been used to
facilitate the despicable act, which fortunately took place
when the inmates and staffers were away on some supervised
outing at a lake on the mainland. This incident remained a
mystery until my interview with Marc Sebastian and Adam
Sathchild.
Mr. Grove was arrested years later by police in New York
City's vice squad for the crime of "interfering with a
minor" but was not convicted because he was deemed afflicted
with a borderline personality disorder. He never did resign
from Longwood's board of directors � even subsequent to the
bombing.
A 13-year-old boy whom he was in the process of sadistically
testing for pain thresholds murdered Mr. Dickey. The boy was
extradited to a secret overseas prison and sentenced to
death by torture under a still existent Federal Law
classifying him as "an unlawful enemy combatant."
The interview occurs in the present, which as most of you
know is the year 2042. Only the beginning of it will be
transcribed on this page. Crucial points should suffice.
Interview Excerpt
Platypus: I feel quite privileged to interview you today,
Exalted Emperor Sebastian I.
Marc Sebastian: It wasn't easy conquering the world, and
especially the nation that had once so proudly been the
United States of America.
Adam Sathchild: Don't forget, he couldn't have accomplished
it alone.
Platypus: You are the Emperor's beloved consort?
Adam Sathchild: I prefer to address him as the pederast
king.
(Handsome pubescent boys cavorted about the emperor's vast
estate like nubile courtiers. Nudity didn't seem to faze
them in this heavenly place. Marc and Adam were the only
persons clothed during the interview. I felt comfortable
enough myself to be partially clothed. For instance, I wore
shoes.)
Platypus, addressing Marc Sebastian: How did you do it?
Become more notorious than Osama bin Laden was more than
forty years ago?
Marc Sebastian: I have a three-word answer.
Platypus: What?
Marc Sebastian: Longwood Reform School.
**** END