Pick a Card

Pick a Card
by Platypus
[email protected]

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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.
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When George Norton went to Las Vegas' Happy Goose casino for the second time, he had big plans. He considered the plans foolproof, a way of rigging a single slot machine so that it always produced a payoff on the eleventh pull. How he would manage this was extremely clever, and the rigging maneuver had already been accomplished by the time he went back to The Strip for a second time with his wife Sally and their kids -- Richard, Ronnie and Sandra on their annual family vacation. Sandra was the youngest at age 10, and her brothers were 12 and 13 respectively. They'd be spending a week at the Goose's Landing Hotel while Dad headed over to the Happy Goose, playing nearby slots and "his special machine" like he was going to work, which he was in a sense.

The gaming of the gaming establishment seemed to be going well. They'd purchased a suite only a few hundred feet from the Happy Goose, and inside their 5th floor rooms it was air conditioned and pleasant, compared to the 115 degree F. summer heat outside the buildings. Sally tried catching up on her summer reading, mainly Gothic Romances. The boys could use the cable TV with premium channels they didn't get at home. All three kids enjoyed the Olympic-sized outdoor swimming pool that was an extra benefit of their lodging. The boys sometimes forgot their sandals, and their bare soles would practically sizzle as they made frequent mad dashes back and forth from their room to the inviting pool. "Wow, that pavement is really hot," Richard would tell Ronnie, and the younger brother would nod in agreement. Ronnie, a bit wittier by nature, would usually make some smart-alecky comment like, "My feet are really done this time," and he'd flash his winning smile, "They're medium-well." Richard and any Norton within earshot would invariably laugh.

Norton was a large man, ruggedly handsome as his boys were becoming, with a dimpled chin and brown hair and a perfect nose. His wife was also quite attractive, brown-haired and needing little make-up, as was Sandra Norton, a beautiful young princess-type who within a couple of years would be turning the heads of even slightly interested heterosexual boys.

She'd brought her dolls and their accessories, and liked to play quietly on the floor of their hotel suite, usually in the living room or in one of the two bedrooms, and she tried not to attract the attention of her brothers, whom she found barely tolerable. They'd tease her and make smart-alecky remarks, and sometimes even punch her on an arm or leg, even when Sandra would be minding her own business. "Leave me alone!" she'd scream plaintively. They'd ignore her cries and keep it up until their Mom put a stop to it, distracted from her Gothic settings. "Ronnie! Richard! Stop it this instant!" The behavior would abate, but if an opportunity for more bullying of Sandra presented itself, it would start up again. At this point Sally Norton would become exasperated and thereby furious, so she'd physically challenge the culprits with a well-placed pinch or a slap, shouting something like "This is our VACATION and the only time I get to relax, you brats, so stop picking on your sister or I WILL tell your father!" by way of explanation.

George Norton's gaming seemed to be going well. He'd won seven super jackpots by the third day, all of them less than $20,000, but he was "up" close to $115,000, and figured he'd been doing it entirely under the casino's radar. "This scam is working swell," he said to himself when one more slot settled on five horizontal sevens, worth another $19,500 in quarters. He was preparing to leave the casino and head back to their room, when the security guy in the blue uniform started walking towards him.

Mr. Fred Nelson was a big guy with a crewcut, looked ex-military, and was just about to say something, when George heard another whisper from behind a nickel slot, of the sort he never played, the kind with the fruit and the tiny payoffs. "Dad, did you win again?" It was Ronnie, his 12-year-old. His elder brother, Richard, was right behind him giggling.

The security guy with the crewcut barked an order, albeit discreetly. "Please come with me, sir, and bring your boys."

George Norton and his sons began following the man with the crewcut. George felt a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"What's going on Dad?" Richard asked. He was thirteen but loathe about assuming the worst.

"I don't know son," as he flashed his son an angry look for being in the casino and attracting attention in the first place. "You guys are not supposed to be in here. You are both underage! Neither one of you is even close to twenty-one!"

"Twenty-one, that's blackjack; I could play blackjack!" Ronnie quipped. Richard laughed. He usually found his brother's quips hilarious. Sometimes he'd even start laughing and couldn't stop, like a funny jag.

"Pick a card!" Ronnie shrieked happily, "Any card!"

The three of them followed the crewcut guy out of the casino, and onto an elevator. They all ended up in a sub-basement corridor. The security guy opened a door about half-way down the corridor, and they entered a room that had buffet tables and a row of desks. Several scowling men sat behind each one, one guy to a desk. All of them looked mean and tough, Richard and Ronnie thought.

"I see you brought the guy's kids too," said another crewcut swarthy man, heavy-set.

"What's this about?" George Norton said, trying to act nonchalant, but he was already scared because he already knew.

"Yeah, what's this all about?" said Ronnie, imitating his dad.

"The kid is a little wise-ass!" One of the mean-looking casino goons said.

"Your dad has been stealing money from us," a tall balding goon explained, "and he's in a peck of trouble."

"We've had you under surveillance ever since you won that first jackpot with your little racket," another goon added, "so far, we count eight and $131, 646!"

"We could break your fingers and your kneecaps and then make you disappear," the most senior guy with a crewcut said matter-of-factly, "We hate scammers in to the Happy Goose."

"Don't hurt our dad!" 13-year-old Richard yelled. "He'll give the money back!"

"I sure will," said the suddenly contrite elder Norton, almost in tears. "I'll do anything else you want. Just don't break my fingers! I need my hands. I'm a union carpenter."

"Why shouldn't we rough you up right now and then get you dragged off to prison? You've committed about ten felonies – that's like twenty years. These boys will grow up without a father. Is that what you want?"

"We should be able to work out some kind of deal," George Norton begged. "I'll agree to anything!"

Two of the men started appraising Richard and Ronnie as handsome pubertal miniatures of their good-looking father. "Maybe there is something we can work out," one of the goons with a crewcut said.

"Come with us please, Mr. Norton, right now."

George Norton felt more dread in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea what he was walking in to. He might be about to have his fingers and kneecaps busted, or worse. But he decided to gamble. Perhaps there was some kind of deal that would bail him out of this mess he'd managed to get himself into.

"Can we come too dad?" Richard asked, a little teary-eyed and protective about his dad. "Yeah," chimed in Ronnie.

"No, you stay here while I go with these men, boys. I'll be back soon."

Richard and Ronnie watched the two men, the mean-looking goons, like organized crime thugs, Ronnie mused, lead their dad away toward another room on the far end of a hallway, nearly out of sight. They heard a door slam.

"Are those guys going to hurt our dad real bad?" Richard asked with fear in his voice.

"Maybe," one of the goons said, "He deserves it."

The boys waited for about fifteen minutes, until their dad reappeared with the two big men. Their dad wasn't exactly smiling, but he appeared to be unhurt. Richard and Ronnie were momentarily relieved.

George Norton motioned his two sons toward him with his left hand. "Come here boys." The goons all of them, seemed to approve of this family reunion, letting the parent explain what had been worked out. The father and his two sons stood near the row of desks as if they were having a private conversation, only it was very public.

"I'm very proud of both of you. These men have proposed a way for our family to work off the debt, and they won't arrest me, and we'll all be able to go back home next Monday as we were planning. You boys will have to agree to work for the rest of the week and over the weekend. It will involve gambling. Both of you are curious about gambling. That's why you went into the casino, right?"

"Yeah," Richard said. Ronnie just nodded.

"I've signed a paper that gives you kids to the Happy Goose for the next five days. If you obey these men, and submit to all the games and tests they put you through, and they won't be easy, it will get us back to even with the casino."

"What kind of games?" Ronnie asked.

"What kind of tests?" Richard queried.

"They will be painful. I won't lie. The ordeals will be initiations for you, like in Boy Scouts, only a lot worse. But you won't be given any permanent injuries. I've worked that clause out in our contract. You'll also be gambling, as I said earlier, so they'll be some luck involved. If you agree, you'll have to be strong, and endure whatever you're submitted to, for the sake of our family. You'll also be entertainers, and everything will be videotaped and shown live to a select clientele of people who like watching boys experience pain. Both of you have to agree, or the deal is off. If either of you refuse, you may not see your father for a very long time, perhaps never."

Thirteen-year-old Richard and twelve-year-old Ronnie had tears glistening in their eyes, but neither of them hesitated. It was time to "man up" and rescue their family and make everything right again.

"We'll do it!" the Norton boys said.

There was a brief farewell, some goodbye hugs, and Mr. George Norton walked away from his beloved boys with tears in his eyes.

A moment later, Richard and Ronnie were introduced and shook hands with Mr. Fred Nelson, and a second big goon called "Moose."

"They'll be in charge of you and get you ready for tonight," the most-senior goon explained. "Go with them now to your quarters."

Richard and Ronnie just nodded, determined to do well for the sake of their family.

Their "quarters" were a two room suite in the sub-basement of the Happy Goose. It wasn't quite as nice as their Goose's Landing suite but it had two beds, a TV, and a bathroom with a shower. Everything was furnished in pea-green. Richard didn't like the color, but when the boys bounced the beds, they seemed comfortable enough. "It looks like puke," he said. "More like diarrhea," Ronnie quipped. There weren't any windows because they were in the sub-basement. The boys were told to obey Mr. Nelson and "Moose" or else they'd suffer 'other' punishments in addition to whatever their "work" might entail. They'd agreed already to everything that would be happening, so there'd be no backing out. If they really acted like "babies," the deal would be cancelled. They'd have to obey other people who would order them around during their performances, including the "clientele."

"What does clientele mean?" Ronnie asked the big man called Moose. Ronnie wasn't joking around, Richard thought. He doesn't know. I don't know either.

"They're called sadists," Moose explained. "They enjoy watching and witnessing people suffer pain. These particular people are especially interested in watching good-looking boys experience pain. The word 'clientele' itself means special customers."

"Oh," Ronnie said with a wry grin.

"Nothing will happen this afternoon. You are to relax and conserve your strength and endurance. Watch TV. We can bring in any DVDs you might like. You will be on tonight, Wednesday, at 8 p.m., and Thursday night, and Friday night, and then on Saturday you'll do a matinee show, and you'll do a regular performance on Saturday evening, and finally a Sunday matinee. That's it, only six shows." Moose was preparing them mentally for their rigorous schedule. They wouldn't know what to expect physically or precisely until they'd endured the first one, that evening.

"What DVDs would you be interested in?" Mr. Nelson asked nicely.

They chose "Pirates of the Caribbean" and "Peter Pan," which were favorites of both young Nortons.

"I'll be knocking on your door at 7:30 p.m. sharp. You can order a snack prior to then, but I wouldn't order anything heavy, as far as food," Moose advised.

"We won't," Ronnie said, again flashing his wry smile.

"We have the room to ourselves for about four hours," Richard said, after Moose and Mr. Nelson had left. "I hope we did the right thing by volunteering for this."

"What choice did we have?" Ronnie asked with a serious face, which for him was a rare event, and a bit unsettling in itself for his older brother.

"I can't take much pain," Richard said. "Even walking on that hot pavement outside really sucked."

"I know what you mean," Ronnie said, "but otherwise they'd probably hurt dad a lot worse."

"They'd break his fingers and his kneecaps, like in a mobster movie I saw once," Richard added.

"Yeah," Ronnie said, "That would really suck."

*
Ronnie took the advice about eating light but Richard didn't. He ordered a big plate of spaghetti with meatballs and anchovies. Ronnie just had a cheese sandwich and a small cup of chicken noodle soup.

"You shouldn't have eaten that big dinner," Ronnie told his brother.

"But I'm a growing boy," he countered.

"I hope you're not going to be sorry," Ronnie said, not meaning to harp on the subject.

They watched "Peter Pan" and most of the Johnny Depp movie, before the dreaded knock came.

Moose and Mr. Nelson were exactly on time. "C'mon, you kids are the stars," Moose said.

"It's almost show time," Mr. Nelson chimed in.

Both boys followed the men into a subterranean theatre-like setting, similar to one of those little auditoriums the boys had once seen at some museum their family had been to.

"It's like the little theatre at the science museum except for the stage in front of the movie screen," Richard remarked.

"I'll bet we're going to be on closed-circuit TV. It might be kewl in a way. We'll be famous!" Ronnie said with another wry grin.

The small theatre seated about fifty and a few adults and even a teenager or two were starting to file in.

On the stage, two tables were already set up. The tables were cluttered with various articles – a hammer, nails, several pairs of pliers, a little pouch with needles in it, a small welder's torch, a cigarette lighter, several candles, two pairs of tweezers, and what looked to be different sizes of whips and canes. Other items were stacked in boxes and were available for use on the boys.

On the second table lay a huge, oversized deck of cards made of a very thick paper. The cards were about 18" by 27" in size. Richard and Ronnie had never seen cards so big.

"Get up on the stage, young Nortons," Moose barked.

Richard and Ronnie did just that. There was an element of intrigue and excitement to all this, even to the boys, it must be admitted.

Richard was dressed in short-sleeved cotton T-shirt, summer shorts, boxers underneath, and sneakers and socks for his footwear. Ronnie's attire was nearly identical, except that he wore a slightly dressier shirt, emblazoned with a tropical design that looked Hawaiian. It was relatively comfortable in the little arena, the air conditioner on low, but it still was probably about 80 degrees Fahrenheit.

Several more of the original goons from the Happy Goose had strolled in, taking their seats in the audience, and more people were filling in. At 7:45 p.m. the auditorium was about half-full.

Moose began to tell the boys what they'd need to know for this performance, and for their succeeding five performances.

"You will be playing a game called 'Pick a Card' tonight, and in all your sets. We use a normal deck of 52 cards that has all the cards in it that you boys probably are already familiar with," Moose explained.

"Do you boys like to play cards?" Mr. Nelson asked.

"Sometimes," Richard said.

"Depends what the game is," Ronnie replied.

"Fair enough," Moose agreed.

Mr. Nelson continued with the instructions. "The cards are identical to a normal deck – suits of hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades; face cards that will include jacks, queens, kings, and aces. We'll have the two jokers in the deck for a bit of extra fun. You boys will draw each card when it's your turn. That sounds simple, heh kids?"

"Sure," Richard said.

"What's the catch?" Ronnie asked.

Moose filled the boys in on the "catch." "Forty-four of the cards in the deck will describe painful punishments in varying degrees of severity. Six of the other eight will provide a penalty, but a non-painful one. These involve varying degrees of humiliation. Two cards and one of the jokers will prescribe no penalty or punishment whatsoever. One of the jokers involves a very humiliating task for whichever boy who draws the card to perform. When you draw a card from the huge oversized deck, you must first shout what it is and show it to the audience and to everyone with you on stage, and Mr. Adrienne, the moderator, will tell you what your punishment or penalty will be. If it's a punishment or penalty, after Mr. Adrienne tells you what it is, you must loudly thank him for your punishment or penalty, even if you're afraid, if you're to get credit for it. If you luck out and don't draw a punishment or penalty with that particular card, you must shout "Oh, too bad!" like you mean it, or else a punishment card will be immediately substituted. There will also be instructions for each card you draw about how you will be dressed. Listen carefully to those instructions too, and immediately dress or undress accordingly or there will be additional painful consequences that the audience must decide. The people in the audience will react to the cards you draw because they know this particular deck really well. I'll give you a hint: You don't want to draw face cards or especially an ace! However, whatever card you draw will be face down, and you won't know what it is until after you've picked your card. That's the whole fun of it!"

"Yeah," Richard said a bit too sarcastically.

"Well, that's about it and we'll be starting the show in just a few minutes," Mr. Nelson concluded. He was in a jovial mood.

The little theatre had filled up fast. Every seat was taken by 7:58 p.m. It was a roomful of the most curious and enthusiastic sadists about to be thoroughly entertained.

Mr. Gerard Adrienne was about fifty, with a pate balding in a circular pattern. He has since achieved legendary notoriety as a sadistic master of ceremonies and commentator. This Wednesday evening, as Richard and Ronnie Norton were initiated into a world of pain, he was in top form. Adrienne shook hands with each boy and thanked him in advance for agreeing to participate. "I'm truly sorry about your father's situation, but perhaps we can help your family come out okay," Mr. Adrienne said, putting the ensuing and sadistic contests in the best possible light.

"Thank you," Ronnie managed, as polite as he could be under the peculiar circumstances.

The boys were a bit ill at ease standing on the stage, uncertain about what would happen next. The lights brightened and it was time to begin the game.

Mr. Adrienne has a booming basso profundo voice and he commenced with an enthusiasm rarely matched in such announcers. "Who wants to go first?" he asked too loudly mainly for the audience's benefit. The acoustics were excellent it was said. "Pick a card!"

Richard eyed Ronnie and vice-versa. Ronnie proved the more impetuous. "I will," the 12-year-old volunteered.

Everyone in the small auditorium turned to Ronnie, not wanting to miss a single nuance of his initial reactions as the card was selected and its outcome became known.

"Go to the second table, and just select the top card off the deck, unless you'd like us to shuffle for more drama. It's your choice!" Moose coached.

"Please shuffle," Ronnie asked, grasping the opportunity to procrastinate if but for a few seconds, as long as it was allowed in the rules.

A huge transparent plastic bin, called "The Card Shuffler," came down out of an opening in the theatre's ceiling and enclosed the giant deck of cards. A loud whirring sound was heard, and some kind of weird wind instantly arose, and it was as if a huge God-like paw had entered the enclosed bin, and begun shuffling the giant cards.

"That's entertaining in itself," one of the attending sadists said, a woman with dyed-red hair.

"We are in Vegas," a big bespectacled guy remarked.

A few seconds later, the entire deck was deftly placed back on the second table by the odd contraption, pre-shuffled.

"Okay Ronnie, you're free to pick a card!"

Twelve-year-old Ronnie Norton could no longer dawdle. Quickly he picked a card, the top one off the deck. It was about a half-inch thick and weighed at least twenty pounds. He looked intently for a second at the card he picked. At least it wasn't a face card or an ace, or a bad joker. He shouted out his discovery. "It's the six of clubs!"

A low murmur rustled through the gathered audience members.
Mr. Adrienne read the card's instructions, and its penalty, punishment, or perhaps a better outcome for the boy. "Ronnie, you will remove your shirt and lean forward over the front of the second table, your bared back to the audience."

The boy did, with only a slight reluctance.

"He has a nice back for a boy of his age," Mr. Adrienne remarked in a loud voice. "But it will now be marked! This card prescribes six strokes with a 30-inch white cedar cane! Commence flogging young Ronnie!"

"Thank you, Mr. Adrienne," Ronnie said, in order to receive credit for the punishment according to the rules.

Ronnie gritted his teeth and prepared for the pain on his bare back, his pale white skin just starting to tan from the summer sun. He wasn't used to pain. He hoped that he could endure this ordeal, his first of many, without being "too much" of a baby.

"You can do it," Richard said softly, encouraging his younger brother.

Moose was wielding the cane, a medium-weight model. His arm flashed down quickly and the thin wooden cane made its first contact with Ronnie's back, just under his left shoulder blade. A bit of a welt, not too livid, immediately appeared. "Owwh," Ronnie cried, his eyes beginning to tear up. The second hit followed almost before Ronnie could react further, the cane striking the middle of the boy's bare back, creating a slightly redder welt. "Ooooh," Ronnie yelled, a scream barely muffled as that one really hurt. But during the succeeding four strokes with the cane alternately ascending and descending, Ronnie didn't really scream once, even though a few of the stripes from the cane were visible on his bare back.

"Very good young man," Mr. Adrienne commended, "You may put your shirt back on and return to your standing position onstage."

"Yes sir," Ronnie replied, feeling at least a small measure of grim satisfaction at undergoing the ordeal like a man. Everyone clapped for him, although they were staring a little too intensely, Ronnie mused.

Now it was 13-year-old Richard's turn to pick a giant card. He felt butterflies in his stomach, but knew he could endure what had just been meted out to his younger brother. A bit of macho competitiveness began to creep in. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the boy's next move, although he had to be told.

"Are you ready, Richard?" Mr. Adrienne asked sweetly.

"I guess."

"Do you want to the deck shuffled?"
"No, I'll just pick."

Richard went deep into the pile, with a little help from two casino goons, and picked up one of the heavy cards, with his eyes closed so that he couldn't cheat. He opened his eyes to the Jack of Diamonds.

He knew he was in trouble because it was a face card. Damn it! I drew a face card he said out loud.

Several chuckles and an outright laugh from the audience ensued, but they still didn't know that face card that Richard had drawn.

Mr. Adrienne took care of that. "What card did you draw?" The MC said softly.

"The Jack of Diamonds!" Richard bravely announced, come what will. He had no idea what the punishment would be, but he was certain it would be much worse than Ronnie's initial luck.

Mr. Adrienne's wicked grin convinced him that he was right. He didn't even have to hear what would follow, although it was bound to be bad. "Ewwh, that's a good one for our audience, but not for you, I'm afraid. Remove your shoes and socks, and also your summer shorts and briefs. You may keep your T-shirt on."

Like a brave soldier, Richard quickly untied his sneakers and removed each one, then his socks to be barefoot. A bit more hesitantly, he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, and removed his shorts and then his briefs, stepping out of each and handing his clothes to Mr. Nelson. He was now naked from the waist down, and prepared to hear what his punishment would be. There was applause and hoots from the audience as the handsome 13-year-old first stripped, and then stood barefoot on stage.

"We call the punishment for drawing the Jack of Diamonds 'Eleven Needles,' and it will be quite painful for young Richard. Richard was first instructed to lie down flat on his back atop the second table, next to the huge deck of cards he'd be sharing the wooden surface with. Richard, made suddenly very vulnerable to whatever pain was about to be inflicted on him, was getting really nervous, although a tiny part of his mind wanted badly to get this ordeal over with.

"We'll start out with his feet," Mr. Adrienne explained cheerfully, "a boy's feet are very sensitive."

Richard had almost begun to sob but was holding it in somehow.

Mr. Adrienne began to handle his left foot, then his right, palpating them all over and checking them out carefully, noting his observations for the suddenly even more attentive audience of sadists. "No, although this one has beautiful fleshy feet with lots of nice adipose tissue and his soles are begging to be punctured, as many of you are aware, the first ten of the needles are intended for digging beneath each of his ten toenails, and the condition is that each needle must draw a little blood. I must dig until blood is drawn from that toe, and only then can I move on. Are you ready to thank me for the first part of your punishment so that it will count Richard?"

The pause was too long as Richard was taking deep breaths.

"Do you want to keep us all waiting young man?"

A few groans of dismay were heard from the audience. "Don't be a baby!" someone jeered.

"Thank ... you... Mr. Adrienne!"

"Alright, we are ready to begin. Hold his left foot steady."

Moose held his foot in a vice grip with two strong hands; one hand gripped Richard's heel and ankle, the other gripped below his toes so they wouldn't move or wriggle too much.

"We should be entertained for a while by this boy's screams."

Ronnie looked on with horror, as he knew that he too would draw cards with nasty outcomes before this evening's or else one of the six performances were over on Sunday.

Richard felt the needle wielded by Mr. Adrienne jab beneath his big toenail on the left foot. The needle seemed to have a mind of its own as it moved slowly under the nail from side to side and with its sharp point pushed into the soft flesh in the nail bed. Blood was drawn, and the needle moved inexorably onwards to Richard's second toe, and when blood was drawn on that toe, to the 13-year-old's third toe, his fourth, and finally the baby toe on that foot. Richard's screams faded to tearful sobbing.

A pause ensued, and then more cries from the audience of "Don't be a baby!" as Mr. Adrienne began working under the toenails of the older Norton boy's right foot. More screams, several of them high-pitched, left Richard hoarse and almost gasping between his eventual sobs.

But there was one needle's jabs still to be endured, as only ten had been experienced.

A longer pause ensued, as it was for dramatic effect, as most of those sadists present knew the entire meaning of drawing the jack of diamonds. Mr. Adrienne played to the theatre inherent in the moment, besides those more literal interpretations to be expected.

But Richard didn't know where the eleventh needle would be punishing him. Mr. Adrienne showed the thirteen-year-old the face of the newest needle. This needle was about four inches in length, and besides its "business" sharp-pointed end, toward the lower end away from the sharp point was a tiny projection about a quarter-inch in length with curved sharp hook-like points on either end.

"Our notorious eleventh needle is also going to draw blood; it will be plunged into perhaps your most delicate area and by Devil, it won't come out easily!" the master of ceremonies announced. Richard naked below the waist gained some inkling, but the wrong inkling, when he suggested that this sharp-pointed little torture instrument would be stabbing him in the navel "You're going to prick me through my belly-button with that thing!" the terrified boy shrieked. This seemed indicated when Mr. Nelson casually lifted Richard's T-shirt, exposing his lower belly.

But the actual destination was a bit lower. "It's going into your piss-slit," Mr. Adrienne announced loudly, "all the way in – only to be more painfully yanked out," until the audience shouts "mercy" signaling the end of this particular ordeal."

"Thank me before I begin or it won't count!" Mr. Adrienne had to remind the boy again. "Do I have to keep reminding you about that?"

Very reluctantly, the circumcised boy complied. "Do it! Thank you!" Richard said, but the crowd sensed that he just wanted to get his ordeal over with. Still, it was sufficient under the rules.

"Here I go, it's eleventh needle time!" Richard gazed in horror as Moose held up his slightly erect penis and the cruel needle approached. In and out, but slowly, causing excruciating pain especially on its way out. This ritual occurred thirty-seven times. Richard counted each occasion to himself, while wailing and sobbing and shaking his head from side to side out of sheer overwhelming pain. Several times bits of urethral tissue and specks of blood emerged with the eleventh needle's exit.

So went the Jack of Diamonds when Richard drew it. "You can put your clothes back on," he was told.

*
Ronnie drew the four of hearts, the three of spades, the nine of diamonds, the ten of clubs, and the ace of spades during the remainder of that Wednesday evening. His tortures included being flogged all over his chest and belly with a steel-tipped martinet (four of hearts), having a heated fireplace poker inserted up his fundament (three of spades), being pinched with a pair of needle-nosed pliers along his ribs on both sides (nine of diamonds), having to French-kiss his brother on the mouth (ten of clubs; that ordeal was merely a penalty intended to humiliate), and the worst having fifty needles inserted in different places all over his nude twelve-year-old body (ace of spades; and with the ceremony of that particular ordeal, the "fifty needle initiation" took nearly an hour to complete). Richard, after the Jack of Diamonds ordeal, managed to get through it all too, although he was forced to stand barefoot on heated plates until his soles were red and mildly blistered (Jack of spades), had his cock and balls inserted into a cardboard box through an opening and bitten by aggressive white disease-free rats (Queen of hearts), was beaten fifty strokes on the palms of his hands with a rattan cane until they were red and blistered (seven of clubs), was beaten on the buttocks with ping-pong paddle in a "spanking" that turned out to be relatively mild (five of hearts), and was given forty lashes on the bare rear of his legs, thighs down to ankles with a rawhide whip that was "historical" he was told because it was an antique from the 19th Century British Navy (six of diamonds). "You're a fortunate lad, Richard, being beaten with this," Mr. Adrienne brayed.

"That really hurt," Richard told Ronnie later when they were safely in their subterranean windowless room.

Thursday passed in leisure activities as the brothers were released during the day and allowed to sleep in, to tend their wounds without being allowed to use bandages, and to screen DVDs of their choosing. But soon enough it was eight o'clock and time to "go to work" as the Norton boys were referring to it. Thursday's tortures opened up fresh wounds and caused excruciating torments to almost every portion of their early adolescent bodies. But what both boys began dreading perhaps perversely were the humiliating penalties that also had to be endured; on Thursday evening Ronnie was forced onto his knees to lick the soles of his 13-year-old brother's bloody feet (they'd just been bastinadoed with a sharp-pointed truncheon), and Richard was forced to spread his brother's cheeks and lick out Ronnie's anus, referred to as "his rosebud" by most of those sadists in attendance. "It sure didn't smell like a rose bud," Richard informed his brother later. "That's what you get for drawing a joker," Ronnie quipped.

Friday just had a round of tortures, the worse had each of the boys being "branded" on their bellies like Nevada cattle, and with a red-hot iron (both drew the same card for that, the King of Spades). But Saturday's matinee performance had to be the worse. Richard drew a joker and was forced to give his younger brother a blow job right there on the stage, and made to swallow the few drops of his cum. "At least that felt real kewl," Ronnie quipped, to which Richard promptly slugged his beloved brother in the arm.

During Sunday's matinee, the final performance, Richard actually got even. Ronnie drew a second joker dictating that he get to fuck his brother up the butt. "I really reamed you good," Richard said on Sunday evening, matter-of-factly.

But they were truly brothers, and hugged each other before going to sleep for the last time in the little subterranean quarters of the Happy Goose. They'd gotten through it, a little sore and bruised and battered, but the Norton family debt was erased. Their family was free to leave, after signing a non-disclosure agreement and promising never to reveal publicly what had occurred.

Meeting his boys with their mother and princess of a sister in the lobby of the Happy Goose, George Norton was tremendously relieved.

"I am so damn proud of my two brave sons," he said while their mother looked up from a romance novel she was just finishing, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Maybe we can come back here next year!" he added with enthusiasm.

Richard and Ronnie weren't sure if their dad was being serious. Ronnie had to speak his mind, just in case. "Only if you torture us every day just to toughen us up before we get here," Ronnie quipped, "yeah, being tortured and humiliated to pay off our dad's massive screw-up is sure a lot of fun!"

Richard started laughing automatically at his brother's quip. It was right on the mark. He stopped laughing suddenly when he felt a sharp pain in his ribs.

"Ronnie, don't talk that way to your father," Mrs. Norton warned.

"But Daddy was wrong," said Sandra, formerly the Norton family's perfect little princess.

Mrs. Norton considered announcing the threat of some sort of physical punishment for her bratty son when they got home, but changed her mind abruptly. In fact, the Norton family's dynamics would never be the same.

END ***