(MmB) (anal, enem, fist, oral, scat, ws) (bd, cbt, humil, tg) (nc)
Talk about a cushy job and a paradise for perverts. Here I was, a thirty-year-old sadist, fed up with life and love with, I'll admit, a lot of anger and hate in me, landing a job as a counselor and dorm monitor in a correctional institution for boys and young men. This was a private school of sorts, although it was really a camp. In fact, Wakefield Correctional Institution was mostly called The Camp or The Boot Camp or the Boot Camp for Boys or, by us inside, Pussyboy Paradise.
I didn't know then, on that first day, all I know now, of course. I did know they had hired me in spite of me losing my last job as a school counselor for raping the ass of a sixteen-year-old boy in my office. The little fucker was just asking for it. Finally, after I'd had enough of his flirting glances and his bragging about all the teen twat he'd stuffed, I just smacked him alongside the head, threw him over my desk, tore down his cargo pants and slammed my nine inches up his tight, little, teenage asshole. He was the cutest boy in the school by far. And, Jesus that boy-cunt was tight, moist, and sweet. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do? The tough, little shit would come and visit me every fucking day. He knew I was gay and hot for his bod, and he used to play with me sadistically. He would spread his young legs and scratch his balls with a wink, and smile, all the while going on about his twat friends. Most of you know teenage boys like this, and you know how they just ask for it. Well, I gave it to him. I'll never forget his moist, pink pucker and how it stretched around my prick. While the fucking boy-cunt, he squealed like a stuck pig. I could have been hurting him for life and fucking up his mind. Well, too fucking bad. I had a hard-on that needed relief.
Well, the boys at Wakefield liked what I had to offer because they got me off the hook and offered me this job to boot. “We need somebody who knows how to properly treat those fucking animals” was how Dr. Hill put it. They paid off whomever to get my case dropped, and there I was getting a tour of my new home.
To say nobody on the outside knew what went on at Wakefield would not be correct. Various law enforcement organizations who joined in the festivities knew. The Governor knew. Hell, he plowed boy ass once or twice a month. A couple of senators knew. And I was just finding out.
Wakefield was a maximum security correctional facility for dangerous offenders of the law. Boys from fourteen to twenty-one who had been convicted of drive-by gang shootings, drug dealing, rape, murder, and various other unsavory crimes were sent there to be re-educated, reshaped and changed forever. And they were.
“Of course, because we get lots of former gang members and kids involved in street crime many of our boys are niggers or spics, but we get our share of white trash too. Just remember they are animals and here they are treated like animals. We give no quarter. We take no shit!”
The speaker was Fritz Miller a middle-aged, military nut who ran the camp for Dr. Hill. Fritz was six foot four, two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. He had a crew cut and bright blue eyes. I didn't want to ask where his father was in nineteen forty because I was certain the answer would not be America.
I fell in love at Wakefield, but that comes much later in the story. Let me first walk you through the place as Fritz did me that first morning. We first entered one of the barracks. Each barracks had four rooms, each room held eight boys. One shower room served each barracks. I was shocked, to say the least when I saw the boys.
“When they first arrive, we shave their heads to remind them they are less than human. If they behave, they are allowed to grow a short, neat head of hair back, but for each infraction of the rules, it gets shaved again. That way we can see the troublemakers.”
Eight teenage boys stood before me at attention. They wore Doc Martins. They wore little else. Each boy was dressed in nothing but a tiny cloth posing pouch held around the hips by strings. The pouches seemed almost too small for the teenage genitals. The boys stood stiffly, legs spread shoulder width apart, arms locked behind the back shoving out their chests. I threw an instant boner. Have you ever seen a teenage boy in a posing pouch? It is fucking hot. Their bodies are not those of muscle builders but slender and tight and just starting to fill out, and their flat, smooth tummies are hairless. In fact, I could see about two inches of prick hair on each boy above the material of his tiny pouch. Fritz chuckled.
“Keeping them dressed this way does three things. First, it saves on uniforms and clothing. Why should we waste money on pigs? Secondly, it humiliates the boys, as it should. Thirdly, it provides entertainment for us. Each boy has one pouch aside from his shoes. It's his only possession. We allow them nothing else. Each Saturday the boys wash their pouches. You'd be amazed how protective they get over that tiny piece of material. As many of the boys are here for four or five years, his pouch gets too small as his teenage prick and balls grow, well that’s real cute.”
All the boys kept their eyes on the floor, but I could see embarrassment coursing through their tight, hard, young bodies. These boys were physically worked hard I could tell no fatties here.
“To keep the pouches as clean as possible, the boys remove them when they sleep. Here are the boys' beds.”
Four crib-sized beds with no mattresses or pillows just the hard gray bed springs.
“They get no mattresses or pillows. They learn to sleep on the bedsprings. Two boys to each bed.”
Fritz chuckled again. The beds were too narrow for the boys to lay side by side on their backs and too short to stretch out.
“We switch bed partners at random.”
In the middle of the barracks room, there was a hole in the floor.
“That’s the latrine,” Fritz said.
Then he turned to a beautiful black boy standing at attention with the others.
“Nigger, show our new teacher how you use the latrine.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
The black boy barked in best military fashion. He jogged over to the hole in the floor, his young body all sinewy and smooth. He removed his pouch to reveal a six-inch, flaccid, uncut, Negro prick and a huge set of smooth balls.
“Shit or piss, sir?” he barked.
“Boy, this is a demonstration, let's do both.”
The boy straddled the hole, crouching down half way so we could all see his hanging dick and when his tight, melon-like ass cheeks spread, his pink asshole.
Fritz chuckled again.
“I love it how some of those coal black niggers have the prettiest pink pussies. It's a hoot.”
We watched the black boy strain then a spray of piss shot out of his dick into the hole. I love watching teenage boys piss. It’s a definite turn on for me, I admit. I don't know why there is something obscene about it. And watching this seventeen-year-old black hunk spraying piss was really erotic.
“When the boys wake each morning, they line up for inspection. Then they are allowed to piss and shit one at a time while the others stand at attention around the hole. This teaches the boy that he is nothing more than an animal and that he has no privacy whatsoever.”
Difficult to argue with that.
The black boy strained his muscles, and I saw the beginning of a turd appear at his ass pucker. He squatted a bit more, but not so much that we all couldn’t see everything and then a log of shit dropped from his ass. I heard it splash into the pit at the bottom of the hole.
“Spic,” Fritz pointed to a fourteen-year-old Latino boy. “Clean him.”
The Latino was beautiful with large, dark, liquid eyes and a full-lipped pouty mouth.
“Sir, I don't have no paper, Sir.”
The boy was visibly shaking with fear. I found out why.
“Aw, too bad. Then you'll just have to use your tongue, won't you?”
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. The boy's eyes filled with tears and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He was so innocent, so vulnerable looking. He shuffled over to the black boy, shaking his young head from side to side as if to say this was impossible. It was to me anyway, but Fritz was merely demonstrating how at Wakefield, we could literally do anything with the boys that we wanted. Any fucking thing.
“You're kind of dragging your heels, boy. Are you interested in a session in the training room?”
Now, the boy moved fast. He fell to his knees and buried his face in the black ass of the boy who had just shit. I could hear him licking and sucking the ass. It was both outrageous and infective at the same time. I was insanely aroused watching a fourteen-year-old boy suck the ass of a seventeen-year-old nigger. Both boys were good looking, and I would have given anything to have a camera. Little did I know that this kind of sadistic fun was a daily occurrence at Wakefield. And, that I could order the boys to do the most embarrassing, disgusting things on a whim. And that none of the boys, not one of them, had any recourse but to follow orders to the letter.
“Turn around, nigger!” Fritz barked.
The black boy turned. He had a very sensitive face, and I'm sure I saw his full lower lip quiver. Fucking hot. I love watching teenage boys cry. That's something we don't see nearly enough of. Boys of that age are so busy trying to prove they are tough macho men. It's such fun to reduce them to little crybabies — bawling, blubbering, mewling, sniveling, and whimpering. Most of the tough, young punks at Wakefield cried every single day, we saw to that.
Now the well-built black boy stood with his huge flaccid prick hanging just inches in front of the kneeling Latino’s face.
“I think he's got some piss drop on the head of his nigger pecker. Why don't you clean that off too?”
The fourteen-year-old Latino boy had a face full of shit. It was real cute. Have you ever seen an adorable fourteen-year-old boy with shit all over his face? It’s just darling. The spic boy stuck out his tongue and took a swipe at the big, fat, uncut dickhead of the nigger boy's cock. Some piss transferred from the prick to the tongue. The huge dick swung a bit. The nigger closed his eyes and bit his lip, but the cock gave a lurch and then started to grow.
Fritz was across the room in a second, backhanding the black boy, sending him sprawling. The nigger screamed and fell to the wooden floor. His lanky, black body, big feet, toes curled, long, strong legs all splayed out.
“You getting a hard-on, nigger? Is that what I see? Do I see a fucking hard pizzle on this fucking animal?”
“Sir, I can't help it, sir, when someone licks my dick.”
“You know how we feel about animals like you getting hard pizzles without permission. You fucking dog! You are at Wakefield for raping eight teenage girls. You never could control that freak of a dick of yours. Gotta stick it in every hole available even your own little sister. Well, not here! Hard-ons are off limits.”
How was a healthy teenage boy to keep from getting a boner now and then? The body worked all by itself. Well, I could see lots of potential for fun in this situation. Bad boys do need to be punished.
“It wasn't my fault, sir. He wasn't just cleaning me. He was licking all over my dick.” The big, tough, black boy was whimpering. “He's a cocksucker sir. He did it to me on purpose.”
Well, those of us who had watched the Latino boy lick the piss of the dickhead knew that wasn't true, but that didn't stop Fritz from his fun. He spun on the Latino boy and kicked him hard in the stomach.
“Is that true, boy? You a cocksucker?”
The Latino boy curled into a ball, retching, choking, and coughing while holding his stomach. Did I tell you that I also love to see healthy, desperate, young, teenage boys in extreme pain? It turns me on. More than once I have shot a load at a sporting event when some cute, sexy, young, teenage athlete has gotten whacked in the balls. His sweet, smooth, young, teen face screwed up in excruciating pain as the throbbing pain from his fuck sacks shooting through his whole body.
Finally, the agonized spic found a voice.
“No, sir, I just licked the piss, sir. I never touched the dick.”
“Fucking, wetback liar I saw the dick swing.”
Fritz flipped the brown boy over onto his stomach and rammed three fingers up the boy's ass hard.
“You lie to me boy?”
“Aggghhhhhhhhh! It only touched a little, just a little. I just cleaned the piss like you told me to. Ugh, ugh, ugh.”
Fritz was finger fucking the boy so hard the kid's whole body slid along the wooden floor. I thought he was going to shove his entire hand up the teenage ass, but he didn't. All at once he seemed to regain his composure. He stood up and wiped his fingers in the Latino kid’s hair. Then he tugged at the waistband of his trousers.
“Both of you are on report. You’ll be punished at dinner tonight.”
He turned to me a smile on his face.
“Shall we continue our tour?”
As we left the room, I could hear the two boys sobbing.
“After their morning shit and piss, the boys jog over to the mess hall for breakfast. Even though it's thirty degrees out, the boys still only wear their pouches. We don't want to turn out sissy boys here.”
The mess was a large building with twenty tables seating sixteen at each table.
“The boys line up, sit on command and announcements are read before the boys can eat. They are allowed no utensils since they’re animals, they eat by burying their faces in the bowls and licking up the slop we serve them. Although the food is healthy, we care little about flavor. In fact, we enjoy making it taste awful. We often have fun by putting secret mystery stuff into the boy's food stuff that only we know about.”
“Next the boys go back to the dorms and shower. They shower all thirty-two boys in one shower room at the same time, and God helps the boy who gets a hard on. They are required to wash out each other’s asses. We like our boys to have really clean asses for the activities we prescribe for them.”
“Then, the boys go to class. They have classes all morning and physical labor activities in the afternoons. They are never allowed to speak to each other except during class projects or during the social hour at night when all conversation is monitored, of course. We can't have the little fucks filling each other’s heads with dirt, now can we? It is during dinner that we give out punishments, except for private sessions, of course, which you’ll absolutely love. We think of the dinner punishments as a kind of public entertainment and general deterrent for the boys.”
I had to ask, “Excuse me, what kind of punishments?”
“Well, in the private sessions, you can do anything you want, but the public ones usually consist of scrotum whippings. We all know that the scrotum is a particularly sensitive part of the male body, especially with teenage boys who are afraid that a severe nutsack flogging may hurt his future sexual life. Have you ever beaten a boy's balls?”
It was my turn to chuckle.
“When I coached high school sports we had a little game we played. I had the boys see who the toughest athlete was by seeing who could take the most pain in his nuts.”
“Fucking amazing what teenage boys will fall for. Well, here they have no choice. We also do really thorough ass whippings. I like seeing a boy’s ass nice and red, almost a black red. I like to warm a boy’s ass up with a good whipping before I fuck him. Hey, man, I'm sorry if some of this is coming too fast and furious for you, but we might as well be honest from the start. We hired you because you are a fucking violent pervert and child molester. You’re our kind of man.”
You know, I felt really good. I mean, I felt appreciated respected.
“It's during the recreation period at night when we milk the boys, but only a few of them. The others we love to let waltz around with blue balls for weeks or months at a time. I like to keep a boy on edge not let him cum for weeks just torture him with sex constantly, but threaten him that if he cums, he will be punished terribly.”
Fritz gave a tug to his own sizable lump as he smiled at me.
“Remember these are the scum of society. These boys are the throwaways. No good to anyone. We break them and turn them into useful serving tools, submissive pack animals who will never question authority again.”
Fritz led me to my barracks. My apartment was small but very nice. I had a complete entertainment system with a home theater. A large bed, a small kitchen and a small nook for a library and a drape I could pull back to see the room where my eight charges lived and slept.
“You’re the counselor. It's a token job really, although you can help the boys by advising them to obey all orders and never question authority. You can assist them to realize they are scum. Nothing more. Cute scum since the uglies don't last around here long. It's only fun to abuse beauty. A word of warning: if you want to keep your job don't go easy on your boys. If word of that gets out, you're through. I got a fifty-two thousand dollar bonus last year for being the faculty member who was hardest on his charges. Our school respects that. Oh, and if you have any particular taste in lads, you know, Asian boys or uncut dicks or blonds or simpering, little, sissy boys or big, tough jocks or nigger gang members, just let us know. We try to please everyone. I'm partial to small-boned thirteen-year-olds myself, but I don't hoard them plenty to go around.”
“I'm not sure what kind of boys I like best. No one has ever offered.”
“Well, give it some thought. Also, if you want any special equipment in your room, large hoses, gyno table or whatever let us know. We have the funding, you know. Well, I'll leave you to settle in. Some of the boys will be around with your bags.
“Oh, at three thirty today we are having a kickboxing tournament in the gymnasium. Stop by if you can. Our kickboxing is a bit different. The boys can only kick, and they take kicks at each other’s balls. The first boy to pass out loses. The loser receives a session in the training room, so the boys fight pretty hard to win.”
“What is the training room?”
Fritz gave out with a hearty laugh.
“Too much for one day, my friend. You could never take it. It's best to learn the school bit by bit. You'll learn to enjoy all we have to offer soon enough. Oh, a special dinner in your honor tonight to meet the staff. Seven o’clock, dress casually, cocktails first, then dinner and some unique entertainment that the boys have whipped up for your welcome. I've really got to go. This hard on is killing me, and if I don't fuck some boy ass soon, I'll explode. If you get horny, help yourself. Usually, a new faculty member remains shy and out of it for a few days, but soon the temptation is too great, and they get the hang of it. See you.”
He sauntered off.
I liked my room. I knew I would love my job and I couldn’t wait to meet my boys.