Longwood Reform School (Revised 4 June 2007)
by Platypus
[email protected]

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 déjà 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 naiveté 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 naïve, 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 ¾ 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 naïve 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 naïveté 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