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Subject: ST: "Terry" (1/4) (f/b b/b spank mass bond)
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(Note: This is a test upload to this NG. If I receive no response then I
will return to ASSGM)

Terry (1/4)
Edward Bangor

Story Code/s: f/b b/b spank, mass, bond

Comments/suggestions to: edbangor@hotmail.com

Other Works by the author available at www.assgm.com include: "Scarecrow"
"More Away Than Home" - both on going -  "A Bit of Rough" (parts 1-25) "The
Tales of Hampton Wick" (parts 1-9) "House of Hampton" (Unfinished: Parts
1-3) "Naked Sex Club"  "Playing at War" (parts 1+2) "#5 Bush Street" and
others.
Some of these and others are also available on at www.nifty.org (all titles
previously published by Acolyte Press and STARbooks Press) and Jimka (M/M
spanking) archives
Please check these archives before requesting missing stories be mailed.
Thank you.

WARNING:

This story may contain descriptions of sexual acts between boys of various
ages and/or men and boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now
(unless you want to be educated and have an open mind that is!)

The story is copyrighted by the author. Please do not distribute it to any
newsgroups and/or web-sites without permission of the author. You may,
however, send it to your friends in any form you wish, as long as payment is
neither requested or received and no changes are made to this file.

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual, alive or dead,
isn't intended but is a nice idea...

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
=
Terry
by
Edward  Bangor
(c) 1996-7


Chapter 01: Watched

It had all started within weeks of the boy's arrival on the Old Hall
military camp where his mother had been posted for the next couple of years.
Terry, having moved home regularly in his life, thought nothing of this at
first but then the messages began arriving.  The first, naturally caught him
unawares, right at the end of a much needed wank in his new bedroom. For
several minutes he'd laid on his unmade bed, eager young pricklet clutched
in his fist, hoping the sounds he'd heard weren't his mother returning early
from her duty as the Commandant's  Private Secretary. When, finally,
convinced they weren't, Terry pulled on his favourite black shorts and
sneaked down the stairs of the MoD owned house and saw, for the first time,
the soon to be familiar envelope face down on the doormat.
 "Now what?" he'd mumbled trotting the final steps. Quickly he scooped the
envelope into his free hand while his other retreated back into his shorts
to keep his semi-stiff penis company. Casual, he turned the six-by-four
envelope over and received his second shock of the day. The letter was
addressed to him.
 Without a second thought as to who would know his name let alone where he
lived, Terry ripped the envelope apart in order to discover what was inside,
hoping beyond hope that it would be his prized porno photos forcibly
abandoned, eight hundred miles away in a lonely rubbish bin, on a even
lonelier Army Base that had been his previous home.
 The hand written, single sheet of paper inside didn't say much, but the
words would impregnate themselves on young Terry's brain before he'd read
through to the bottom of the page. Then, he read them again. Taking in each
single word - and that word's meaning - in the up most detail:
 "New boy," the letter read, "Welcome to Old Hall. We are THE AUTHORITY. We
run the Junior sections of this camp. You will not make any friends or, be
able to do anything without our say so. However, we would like you to join
THE AUTHORITY but there are tasks you will need to perform for us in order
to do so. The number of tasks depends on how well you do. We will be in
touch shortly with your first task. Do not tell anyone, especially Military
Adults about THE AUTHORITY else we'll kill you. THE AUTHORITY!"
 Naturally, Terry dismissed the letter as some form of childish prank of
which the new boys on camp were always subjected and yet, he still felt it
necessary to check out, as best he could the possibility of it being
legitimate. Throwing on a shirt and his battered trainers he headed out into
the outside world for the first time since his arrival soon discovering that
the letters promise of isolation without the mysterious Authority, appeared
to  be true. He only saw a handful of people as he made his tour of
inspection but not one of them even bothered to answer his cheery "Hello!"
greeting. Of course that was expected of the squadies on duty but the
civilians should have responded, especially the kids, but they didn't. They
blanked him. Maybe, just maybe, Terry thought, there was something to The
Authority, after all. Terry decided to wait and see what would happen.
 The second letter arrive at much the same time the following day. "New
Boy," it again began, "Your first task has been selected by THE AUTHORITY.
If you wish to accept it you will find it on the cricket pavilion notice
board in half-an-hour This is where all your tasks will be posted every
week. THE AUTHORITY. "
 Terry was there in ten minutes flat reading the third note.
 "Task One: Go to the Audio Visual department and borrow a video cassette
using the following reference: 'OR THOR TY. Then watch it at home with the
curtains drawn. THE AUTHORITY."
 His imagination working overtime Terry peddled his bike as fast as he
possibly could right the way across the camp to collect the aforementioned
tape, and then back home. Leaving his bike braced against the back gate he
raced through the house, through himself, prostrate across the living-room
floor and stuffed the unmarked, unboxed, video cassette into the family
machine and waited.
 At first the screen showed nothing but snow. Eventually this cleared with a
jerk to show, much to Terry's surprise, his own bedroom. Not only that but
it was the bedroom he'd only used a couple of Time, yet there he was laid
out, full length upon the bed. The sweat matted tails of his shoulder length
hair were tossed roughly over the bunched up pillows as his head turned to
look alternatively at what his hands were doing. One, his left, cradled a
large formatted book while, the other, pulled on his rock hard pricklet.
 Suddenly Terry realised why he'd been instructed to close the curtains
before viewing the tape and he sprung up to do it, only to discover, upon
his return, that the front of his shorts poked forwards by an erection
brought on by watching himself masturbate. Even thought he knew what would
happen and had many questions about its origin, the boy simply couldn't
resist watching the remaining minutes. Stripping off his shorts in the
privacy of the darkened living-room, young Terry Diamond echoed what he
watched on the reality that had sprung from between his legs. On the tape
he'd needed to look at the photographs from military events to sustain his
erection but the mere sight of a boy - albeit himself - pleasuring himself
right before his eyes, turned him on more than anything his imagination had
previously been able to conjure up.
 In minute detail the camera focused on the nail bitten fingers playing up
and down the solid four inch shaft from the blushed crimson tip, right down
to where only the faintest pubertal strands had started to grow. Able to
watch his own hairless testicles retract as they struggled to produce their
thin sperm under continued assault from his pumping fist, Terry came like he
never had before, until his thin release not only decorated most of his
torso but splashed across the television screen as well.
 Just as Terry wiped the cum smears from the tube with his shorts, he head
the snap of the letterbox followed by the thud of something landing on the
doormat. Forgetting about his nudity, he rushed to read what he was sure had
to be another letter.
 "Well done New Boy." it said, "You have completed Task One to our
satisfaction. However, the tape you have just watched is not the original
and, should you ever dishonour The Authority, then we will make sure
everybody who knows you will be able to watch you wanking to photographs of
men and boys. We will contact you soon with details of your next task. THE
AUTHORITY."
 Suddenly Terry felt sick. He'd been tricked. What's more, he was now being
blackmailed and there was nothing he could do about it. He certainly
couldn't tell his mother he masturbated, let alone what he wanked to and, as
there was no one else he knew or, it seemed, would talk to him, there was
nothing he could do.

Chapter 02: Meeting

"Task Two: You are to go to the side of house number 31 and look in the side
window. Use a video camera borrowed from the Audio Visual Department to
record what you see and leave the tape on the Cricket Pavilion waste paper
basket tonight."
 Terry crept as silently as he could towards the designated window.
Carefully he placed his foot on the handy upturned bucket and inched his eye
up to the glass with his heart pounding.  There, to his great shock there
stood the girl he'd tried to speak to on his first morning, naked and
dripping as she reached for a towel in front of the bathroom mirror. The
flawless skin, glowing under the water's heat, the little pert breasts, with
their pointed nipples were all there for the thirteen-year-old to see. The
boy so transfixed he didn't, for one moment, realise he too, could be seen
in the mirror's reflection. Shaking, he raised the video camera to his eye
and began to shoot.
 Apparently unaware of the peeping tom at her window the girl picked up the
bathroom extension and dialled a number she'd recently memorised. She waited
two short rings before hearing the professional sounding answer:
"Commandant's Office. How can I help you?"
 "Mrs. Diamond," the girl said clearly knowing the sound -proofed glass
would block those outside from hearing her words.
 On the other end of the line, Terry's mother was taken aback at being
addressed directly, "Speaking!" he confirmed. "How can Terry help you?"
 "Quickly," the girl said, "Look out of your office window  towards the
quarters and tell me if there's someone peeking into the bathroom of number
thirty-one."
 "Shall Terry call the Regimental Police." offered Mrs. Diamond.
 "No! Please look yourself. Terry think you'll recognise him."
 "But Terry don't kno-!" suddenly it dawned on Mrs. Diamond what the girl
was implying, "Oh God! Terry!"
 For a brief moment the connection was broken whilst the elder woman crossed
her office and peered out of the window using the binoculars that just
happened to be laying there. Ashamed by what she'd seen - her own son: a
peeping tom - she returned to the phone with a question. "What do you want
me to do?"
 At once the girl's tone changed to one of control, "He has to be punished
for what he's done but Terry don't want to call in the Regimental Police and
make things sticky for all of us. Do you agree?"
 "Of course!" Mrs. Diamond said at once thinking what such news would do for
her career.
 "In that case Terry shall hold his attention for as long as it takes for to
come over here."
 "And do what?"
 "Why," the girl said, "Punish him of course. After that we'll say no more
about it and no needs to know what happened. Agreed."
 Mrs. Diamond sighed with relief, "Agreed."
 "There's one other thing Mrs. Diamond."
 "What's that?"
 "I want to see he's punished severely."
 "Oh," the woman said, "you will do. You can rest assured on that score."
 Terry had watched the silent telephone conversation without the slightest
idea it had been about himself. Once the receiver had been replaced in the
cradle, he readied himself for what he hoped would be some prime Time action
to show his sponsors, The Authority.
 Making her way across the road towards Number thirty-one and the revolting
image of her peeking son, Mrs. Diamond. And, as she made the final approach
she realised a way to make the boy sorry for the trouble was putting her too
prompted by the way he crouched on the bucket with his bottom thrust out,
begging for a sound thrashing in the way she'd seen her own brother punished
for his sins. Snatching the nearest available weapon, a stiff yard brush,
she came to a stand still almost right beside Terry. Raising the brush staff
to maximum range and, with all the energy in her sturdy shoulder, she
brought it rushing down, full speed towards the out-thrust bottom where it
landed with a resounding, WHACK!
 Completely surprised by the sudden and shocking bolt of pain, Terry exhaled
a loud yelp as he slipped from his perch.  He only had time to look up at
the imposing figure of his irate mother before a vice grip had been attached
to his ear-lobe and he was being marched towards the back door of the house.
"Mum!" he pleaded but it did him little use.
 "How dare you 'Mum' me, you vile little boy," him mother shouted at him,
"For what I just caught you doing Terry should disown you immediately. But,
thanks to your victim's kindness you are to escape with a lesser punishment.
Now get inside."
 As the scolding had been punctuated with several powerful, cracking, well
placed strokes of the yard stick that brought howls from him, Terry was only
to pleased to scamper ahead of his mother. Until, that is, he found himself
at the very scene of his crime, the bathroom and bedroom of the teenage girl
who now stood before him in a negligee.
 "Well," she demanded her hands on her hips, "what have you got to say for
yourself you dirty little monster?"
 Terry was speechless. He couldn't possible answer as the only thing he
could say would break his promise with The Authority and get him in even
worse trouble. He was doomed, and he knew it, to suffer his mother's wrath.
 Cranking her son around by his ear, and with chilling malice in her voice,
Mrs. Diamond stared into the frightened boy's face. "I've never punished you
before but for what I've just witnessed you doing I am going to give you the
spanking of your life. That's right. I'm going to turn you over my knee,
pull down your trousers and I won't be finished until the young Lady is
satisfied that you won't be able to sit comfortable for a long time to
come."
 Clutched by terror, Terry began to tremble and whimper. Ignoring this
completely, his mother coolly turned to the girl and asked, "Do you have a
hairbrush I could borrow for a few minutes?"
 "Yes," the teenager smiled at Terry's wide eyes and pale face, "I've the
very thing." Reaching into the drawer of her dressing table she passed
across a hand-sized, brightly lacquered hardwood brush.
 "Thank you dear." Mrs. Diamond weighed the instrument in her hand, "Now if
you'd like to take a seat I'll get started."
 "Yes, I will. And," the girl reached for Terry who backed up, his legs
trembling, until he could go no further. However the girl didn't reach for
him but for the video camera he still held, which she quickly prised from
his sweaty fingers. "I'll look after this for you, shall  I?" she said.
 Mrs. Diamond's anger rose up to fever pitch once more at the timely
reminder of the severity of her son's misdemeanour. Realising Terry's
strained ear momentarily, she sat on the bathroom stool and, with a swift
motion of her hand, deftly drew Terry's shorts to his knees. As was his
habit of late, the thirteen-year-old wore nothing beneath and thus revealed
to both woman and girl both a moderately erect pubescent penis and four
angry red stripes on his white, otherwise bare, boyish bottom.
 Mortified beyond belief, Terry's whimpers became sobs as he was roughly
thrust over his mother's lap. Firm hands gripped him, pulling and pinning
his arms behind his back. There followed a pause as Mrs. Diamond raised the
awful hairbrush, and said in a low, deliberately frightening tone, "You will
remember this spanking for the rest of your life!"
 "Whack...Whack...Whack...Whack...whack...Whack...Whack" Went the hairbrush
on the boy's defenceless bottom.
 "Ow! Ow-owoweeee-Ouch!" cried the boy, "Please stop."
 "Whack...Whack...Whack...Smack...Whack...Crack...Whack!" Speeded up the
hairbrush, now landing with pinpoint accuracy, sting flares of pain right
through the boy's body.
 "Owwwwweee! Ow! Ouch!" Louder and louder Terry yelled, until his yells
became wails which, in turn, quickly turned into shrieks. tears flowed
freely down his face as the strident pace of his Mother's arm quickened.
Kicking furiously, but pinned firmly to the maternal knee, he screamed in
anguish and sorrow, "Wahh-wahh! Nuh-nuh-Noooo! Puh-puh-oleease!
Stu-stu-stop! Whahh!"
 "Whack...Smack... Smack... Smack... Crack!" Fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty
time the blistering strokes rained down. Terry's bottom felt as if it were
on fire from the searing pain. Bright blossoms of hairbrush welts were
forming all over his rear end. From the very top, all around the sides, and
down to the tender tops of his thighs, the hairbrush danced with burning
abandon. He screamed and shrieked, tears blinding him as the horrible WHACKS
overlapped every inch of his searing, squirming cheeks from the crown, out
and all over. Again and again with a staccato rhythm his mother hammered
away at his fiery, red bottom and, no matter how he bucked and pitched he
couldn't free himself.
 Seemingly out of the main action the girl watched self-satisfaction,,
careful to keep the camcorder in clear focus on the action being laid out
before her. Never once did she let on that she knew more about corporal
punishment than the double act performing it. Instead she revelled in the
painful slapping sounds that echoed through her rooms, glad she'd taken the
foresight to cover her own excitement before readying the scene for the
current confrontation.
 Suddenly Mrs. Diamond stopped, much to Terry's relief, only to demanded
that he, "Apologise to the young Lady, at once."
 Slowly the thirteen-year-old turned his tear stained, agonised face towards
the camera but, his humiliated pain made it impossible for him to talk.
Unfortunately this suggested reluctance to his mother, who became incensed.
Screaming, "I told you to apologise," Mrs. Diamond levered her legs between
those of her son and spread them wide while still pressing Terry firmly over
her thighs. This had the effect, as she knew it would, of spreading the
boy's buttocks and exposing the only previously untouched area of his bottom
to the final onslaught. Once more she raised the hairbrush, and with force
similar to her first punishing sways, she peppered the inside sections of
Terry's bottom.
 "Whack... Smack...Crack... Crack... WHACK!"
 Screams and tears again erupted from the boy. He tried to gather his breath
and make the apology that had been demanded of him but his mother was
spanking at such a rapid rate that three swats would fall before he could
catch his breath enough to scream out each syllable of what translated to,
"I'm sorry, Miss."
 Then, and only then, mercifully, did the furious spanking end. With a sharp
tug on his ear, Terry found himself standing face to face with his furious
mother. His hands immediately went to his throbbing bottom in a vain effort
to soothe the intense pain and burning heat. He discovered his bottom to be,
not only, hot to the touch, but terribly swollen, with the once tender skin
feeling like leather. He could barely see through the tears flowing from his
eyes, his entire body quaked and shuddered as he struggled to control
himself.
 "Put your hands by your sides." his mother demanded. "So the young Lady can
see you've been soundly spanked."
 With little option to do otherwise, Terry obeyed showing that his rear was
now beyond crimson in colour and covered in whitish blotches that were
surrounded by the outline of the hairbrush.
 "Now turn and face her to deliver your apology clearly."
 Meekly, and with sincere contrition and remorse, Terry turned and raised
his eyes to the girl. So utterly complete was his agony and humiliation that
he couldn't care less that his soft, dangling penis was exposed.
"P-p-please," he began, "F-f-f-for-give me. I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-sorry!"
 "That's better." his mother said to him before turning to the girl, "If you
ever catch him doing anything he shouldn't be, you have my permission to
deal with him any way you want to."
 The girl's eyes lit up, "Even doing what you just did?"
 "Especially that." Mrs. Diamond agreed. Then, to Terry, "Right, young man,
we are going home and if Terry hear one peep from you, the whole camp will
hear you screaming. Is that understood?"

Chapter 03: Dressing

After the spanking Terry hadn't wanted to leave the house which was just as
well seeing as he'd been ordered to remain inside during the Time his mother
was at work. Thankfully, the maternal temper was short lived but that was
little consolation to his battered bottom as he spent his Time either
standing up, or laying on his belly. And, after a week had passed Terry had
begun to return to his former self. Then, came the next note.
 "We now have video footage of you being spanked by your mother which we
will no hesitate to use if you cross us." it said,  "From this moment on you
will do whatever tasks we set for you. To begin you will put on the items
you will find at the Cricket Pavilion and, only wearing these, you are to go
to the Old guardhouse and find what you will be looking for."
 Naturally, Terry didn't want to go, and yet, he realised he also had no
choice in the matter. Arriving at the appointed place he as, thankful no one
could possibly be overlooking him as he retrieved the concealed bag from the
depth of the waste paper basket. However, before he dared open it he circled
the poorly maintained structure to where an over hang protected the barbecue
drums from the elements when there weren't in use. Deep amongst these Terry
Diamond first caught sight of the sort of products sex shops should. For
there, in the innocent looking carrier bag lurked several items the
youngster hadn't even heard about before, yet, the more he looked at them,
he wanted to feel them against his flesh. And, before he realised what he
was doing, he'd stripped of his T-shirt and shorts and was replacing the
later with a pair of latex briefs complete with twin sheaths.
 Luckily these had been previously lubricated which aided Terry to slot his
rapidly hardening penis into the front sheath. Still even with the lube the
task proved to be trickier than he had anticipated and it was several
minutes of fumbling before he could himself through the rubber cock-ring
which allowed the front of the briefs to be raised to his waist. That done,
it only remained for him to locate the rear sheath which, to his surprise,
was as easy as the other had been hard.
 Dropping into a crouch, Terry reached both behind and beneath himself in
order to feed the small, but surprisingly life-life, lump of solid rubber
towards his anus. The sensation of the rounded head moving against his
sphincter, soon had his penis forcing itself through to a very solid
pubertal erection and it was this, rather than Terry's own fumbling that
finally, slotted the built-in phallus inside him.
 The sensation of the sudden penetration startled the boy that he stood up
sharply. This did two thing. One: it brought the latex waistband up over his
hips and, Two: it forced the solid sheath to press the remainder of the way
inside him until Terry, for the first Time, felt what it was like to have
something hard in his arse.
 For a few minutes, after snapping the belt lock shut, the boy did nothing
but savour in the sensations caused by being stuffed by the false prick. His
own, fully erect now, pointed back up at his face. Quickly, sensing Time
slipping away from him, Terry picked up the next item of his required dress.
Opening his mouth as wide as it would go he pushed the golf ball size wad of
rubber into his mouth until it jammed against his teeth. Then he reached
behind his head and fastened the straps, securing them, with a small
padlock. Finally,  he buckled a  leather strap around each of  his thighs
before he pushed his wrists into the twin, smaller straps attached to them
and secured his wrists.
 For a few minutes Terry Diamond revelled in the sensations of being trapped
within his self imposed leather prison and, then, he realised the plastic
bags didn't contain any keys. Panic set in quickly but there was little he
could do. His hands, buckled to his wrists, meant there was no way he could
even put his shorts back on, not that he was ever sure they'd go over the
protrusion that was his penis. Thankfully, it was the point that he was
about to sink into deep disappeared that he remember the final part of  The
Authority's letter.
 The first Guardhouse of the Old Hall garrison had been disused since the
more modern structure had been constructed at the centre of the camp shortly
after the outbreak of hostilities in 1939. Once tall and foreboding the old
Guardhouse stood alone, half hidden by the woods that had grown up around it
where it received no visitors other than the occasional historian  and
misguided squadie out for a run. Thankfully,  Terry knew where it was thanks
to the camp map he'd and his mother had been given upon their arrival. of
course he didn't have this with him but the thirteen-year-old had been
blessed with a fairly decent memory and using this he simply replayed the
map on the inside of his head.
 Naturally, given the way he had bound himself, walking was not the
simplistic activity it should have been to a healthy young boy. Every step,
regardless of which foot used, caused a sharp pain to shoot through the
youngster's anus, and right into his penis. And, even though his pricklet
was as hard as it had even been before the organ seemed intent on turning
into a lump of lead. This, and the fact his hands were strapped to his legs,
soon had him walking more like a crab than a boy, but it was all he could
do.
 To make matters worse, Terry could hear the sounds of other children never
far from him as he headed for the relative safety of the woods and away from
the open expanse of the playing fields.
 Approaching the Old Guardhouse from the rear, Terry, waited for a few
minutes in the undergrowth watching for the slightest sign of a trap.
However, he could only do this for a short while before the intrusion in his
anus caused the majority of his body in its immediate area to throb in  a
fashion that, while not unpleasant, did not suit his current circumstances.
 Slowly, every so slowly, the bound, gagged, and plugged boy made his way
around the side of the cold stone walled structure to where the door had
long since been forced open. It was something of a squeeze to fit his
stiffened framed through the narrow entrance but, he made it.
 The inside was, not surprisingly, pitch black, and yet, after a short Time
Terry discovered that he was able to see well enough for what he wanted as
right in front of his face hung a single, tiny metal key that would, he
hoped, free him from his current predicament.
 This task, like the majority of the others he would be set, wasn't as easy
as Terry first imagined it would be. His hands, strapped to his legs were of
no use in collecting the key and nor, for that matter, was his mouth. In the
end, Terry had no option but to use his forehead to try and flick the key
from it's supporting nail. Then, when he finally managed to knock it the
dusty ground, he sunk to his knees and scrambled around before locating it
with his right-hand fingers. A somewhat painful contortion of these fingers
enabled him to insert the key into the nearest lock and, some twenty seconds
after that, he was free.

Chapter 04: Maternal Instinct

Mrs. Diamond pretend indifference when she heard her son's key turn in the
front door. In fact she waited until she heard him trying to sneak upstairs
before she called out. When she did this, however it wasn't in the soft
maternal tones that Terry had grown up knowing but in the harsher, more
discipline fashion that the girl from number thirty-one had told her about.
"Come here Terry!"
 There was no ignoring her change in attitude and Terry, for one, had no
intention of questioning her. Not after what he'd just been through. "Yes
Mum!" he said meekly trotting through the partly open door.
 "What have you been up to Young man?"
 He sighed, she didn't know - "Just playing!" he said.
 "But look at the state of you. Come closer so I can see."
 Knowing any chance of pretence was out of the question Terry sauntered
forwards with his head lowered.
 "Show me your neck and behind your ears."
 He advanced towards her and did just this. His mother peering into the
folds of his flesh which were, as she suspected, far from pristine.
 "And the backs of your hands!" snapped the voice.
 Terry, humbly displayed the backs of his hands where a distinct trace of
whatever lube had been used on the sheaths remained.
 "Typical. Well," she stood, "if you want a job doing then you have to do it
yourself."
 "You mean...?"
 "Yes, my boy, that's exactly what I mean. I am going to take you to the
bathroom myself and personally scrub you from head to foot and then, when
I'm done I'm going to give you a sound smacking so you remember in the
future."
 Up in the bathroom, Terry found himself, once more, confronted by his
mother determination and, more importantly, a locked door. Even as the bath
was being run, an order was shouted at him. "Take off your clothes!"
 Humbly, silently, anxiously, he did as she bade him without a word of
protest - it was as if he accepted his guilt and the resulting penalty. Even
in her extremity of rage, his mother noticed this, and it softened her heart
a little as she watched him remove his clothes and stand, head hanging,
naked with his hands clasped modestly to his front.
 Mrs. Diamond tested the water and told him to get in. He obeyed without
hesitation, sitting down directly he entered the tub, clutching his knees to
his chest in the only modest pose left tom him. One that would shortly be
taken away.
 "Stand up,"  his mother said. He obeyed her, nervously, hands clasped in
front again. Again she paid no attention, just reached for the new
bath-brush and soap. Then she stopped dead in her tracks, having remember
the vital preliminary. Returning to the back of the bathroom door she took
down the full-length, red, rubber apron that hung there and put it on, tying
the sash behind herself. Then, she advanced.
 The brush was coarse, and the soap was of middling army quality, and the
water perhaps not quite hot enough to coax out a good lather, but Mrs.
Diamond managed - in the end. Not one inch of Terry's skin - excepting his
eyeballs - remained free from the rough caress of the bristles and soon the
boy glowed from top to toe, but it was not from pleasure.
 His mother sluiced him down with the tooth-paste cup until he glistened in
the electric light. It was only at that point that his mother thought of the
perfect way to carry out her threat. She fetched the four-legged,
cork-topped stool from beside the toilet, brought it over and set it down
with a meaningful glance towards the boy quivering in the bath.
 It was her intention to dry Terry with the large bath towel and then to
administer the prescribed punishment; but when, on her gruff word of
command, Terry stepped shyly from the bath and was actually within her
embrace - the towel had been held poised - the days of waiting for an excuse
to re-enact the previous chastisement broke over her like a wave she had
never felt before. Without further ado she discarded the towel, sat down on
the stool and hoisted her dripping son across her aproned lap. Quiet gentle
she brought his damp wrists behind his back and gripped them with her own
left hand. With her right, she pressed down on the backs of his thighs until
his sprawling legs made contact with the wet, tiled floor. Then, at the
moment of triumph, she paused and looked down at the back of her son's
golden head.
 "Ready?" she asked in an ordinary voice.
 "Yes."
 Smack!
 Not a hard one, but it left a bright-pink blotch on Terry's roundest part.
 Smack!
 Now its twin, half overlapping, had arrived to join it.
 Smack!
 A little lower than the first.
 Smack!
 A little lower than the second She changed target.
 Smack!
 That was across the middle right thigh.
 Smack!
 Across the left thigh.
 Smack!
 Fair and square and full palmed across the lower part of  his bottom.
 Terry twisted at the last one and his "Oooh!" coincided with the next
smack, which was more or less where the first one had been. His mother
working around-the-clock, as she had learned it to be called, doing a
circuitous tour of the most smackable parts of the target which now writhed
on her lap.
 Smack!
 She placed her spanks with accuracy and deliberation, but at this stage not
one of them had been applied with anything like her full strength.
 Smack! Smack!
 She began to place the punishing slap faster, if not yet harder. The rhythm
building up slowly. Now Terry was wriggling energetically, and making little
mewing noises like a cat. But still he had not serious tried to break free,
nor had he wriggled clear of his mother's lap as she had suspected he would.
His bottom glowed red all over - a vivid scarlet to set against the
lingering pink of his scrubbed body, twisting on the red of the rubber
apron. Who can say what mysterious potions were stirred into life during
those exotic moments over his mother's lap yet, while he wriggled against
the broad thighs - sheathed in hard, damp rubber - under the resolute shower
of crisp, accurate slaps applied to his upturned seat, itself still
lingering wet from his enforced bath. Could a boy made of stone have
resisted the onset of the impulses which flooded through Terry's being?  It
is doubtful but then Terry wasn't made of stone and in those few minutes he
was undone for the rest of his life. Not that it was his mother's fault, for
she was only doing what had to be done and what - she now realised - she
should have done several years before.
 Smack! Smack! Smack!
 Now Mrs. Diamond used all the width, weight and flexibility of her great
pink palm, for she sensed a crisis was at hand. The punishment had to end in
tears, for what was the good if it did not, yet somehow tears were not
forthcoming.
 Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
 Terry wriggled like a mad thing, and his cries were shrill and continuous,
but they were cries , not sobs. And yet, Mrs. Diamond's hand was already
burning. Incredibly, she found herself looking for an excuse to stop and
save herself, if not her son.
 In this moment of crisis for the woman inspiration saved her, and the
recollections of a punishment she had once witnessed, administered to her
eldest brother came back to help her. She began to talk to Terry, while her
palm continued its work. She chided him in baby-language, using terms which,
had he understood them, would have reduced him to a molten pool of shame.
She told him, exactly what he looked like across her knee and how much he
deserved to be there. She called him a baby, and refereed to his rear as his
'Botty'. And, although Terry didn't understand the majority of the words
used, his mother's tone of voice - tender, triumphant and teasing -got
through to him.
 Mrs. Diamond felt the boy's shoulders go first with that unmistakable slide
into spasm. The Terry went limp, and the whole tone of his skin changed in
an instant. Then,  he simply lay across her knee and wept like a little
baby.
 She waited quietly until the sobbing subsided, then eased the
thirteen-year-old from her lap. His face was all a-slobber with tears,  his
mouth dropping at the corners. Yet, the expression in the brown eyes was not
accusing or frightened or resentful but more, admiration, if anything.
Admiration for the work his mother had put into his bottom. His hands behind
him, comforted the stricken area.
 In that moment a surge of inexpressible love for the fruit of her loins
swept over Terry's mother. Who knows what deeps had been aroused in her by
the punishment she had just inflicted? She had come from a background where
such chastisements had been regular occurrences and, at that Time, she had
often wondered why her mother so often went out of her way to find fault
with her brothers so she could chastise them - often in public. Now she
knew. On impulse she hugged her son and, still talking in baby language,
kissed away his tears, and took him to his room where she ushered him
between the sheets - on his belly, of course - and bid him goodnight.

Chapter 05: Teaching

"For you next task you are to go to the lake and suck the penis of any of
the boys you see there."
 For the first time Terry didn't think twice about the order contained
inside the letter. Something, deep down inside him had always wanted to do
what was now requested of him and he couldn't wait to put this most perfect
of excuses into action.
 Thankfully the lake was pretty quite when Terry arrived but while that
prevent any unwelcome attention form the older boys if didn't leave him with
a lot of options on whom he could try out his latest task. Then he saw the
perfect person, splashing about alone, at the far end, virtually, hidden
behind the heavy foliage. A boy, a year or two younger than himself, he
hadn't seen before with short blond hair, and a somewhat skinny frame
wearing nothing but a pair of old soccer shorts that had turned virtually
transparent in the cold waters and now showed the sliminess of his penis
laying across the top of retracted testicles.
 "Hi!" Terry said, striding right up to the kid. "Do you wanna play?"
 "Play what?"  he shot back.
 "Anything you want!"
 "Okay!" said the kid brightened, obviously not used to having someone -
especially an older boy - offering to play with him.  "My name's Donny.
Let's play chase..."  he cast an eye over Terry's clothes before adding,
"...in the water. If you don't mind getting wet, that is?"
 Of course, Terry didn't and soon the two boys were splashing about, very
much with the eleven-year-old leading the elder boy through the various pats
of the area until they ended up running across a small island in the centre.
 "Hay," called the youngster's voice from deep within the bushes, "Come and
see what's happening to me."
 "What...?" Terry's voice failed him, for the little lad stood much as he
had all day but with the front of his shorts tented out by a very sturdy
erection.
 "Look what's happened to my Willie." he said. "Look how big it's getting."
 "It's..." Terry had trouble speaking, "not bad."
 "Do you think I can make it bigger and harder, too?"
 Suddenly Terry remember why he was there and seized this perfect
opportunity with both hands. "Sure why not. Easy. Do you want me to show you
how to do it?"
 The cropped head shot up from where he'd been studying himself, "Will you?"
 "Sure but you'd best take your shorts of first."
 The exuberant little boy, sporting his eleven-year-old erection quickly
stripped himself naked, delighting in the state of his young body and in the
pleasure he could get from it.
 The other boy also gained pleasure from the unencumbered display of boyish
nudity.  He'd seen many boy bum in his Time but he never got over the simply
beauty of those yet to gain hair and he wondered, almost as a sideline, if
he would be able to spank the kid at some Time. Suddenly his thoughts were
interrupted by a question from the object of his desire.
 "Is your Willie bigger than mine just because you're bigger than me?"
 "Something like that."
 "Can Terry see it?"
 Thinking nothing of it, Terry dropped his own track-suit trousers but was a
little surprised when his pricklet sprung up close to being rock hard. Sill
there was no point in trying to hide it. The kid had seen it all right in
front of his eyes, and he was impressed.
 "That's enormous," he said. "How'd you get it like that?"
 It was another golden opportunity Terry seized upon, "I'll show you."
 Donny sat on the only available seat - a fallen log - while Terry got to
his knees between the childish widespread legs. With shaking hands he moved
closer to the stiff little rod, continually telling himself to remain calm
but, his own organ wasn't listening.
 "It's simple," Terry forced himself to say. "Just watch what Terry do. then
you'll be able to do it for yourself."
  The thirteen-year-old began to rub the youngster's Willie briskly between
the palms of his hands, wanting Donny to feel the quick surge of pleasure as
his penis rose to full attention. He saw the lad's eyes begin to widen, and
knew that his technique was working. In no Time at all Donny's penis was
standing stiff and straight out in front of him. Terry thought about showing
the kid how to pull off but discounted this as he doubted Donny would be
able to at his young age as Terry hadn't been able to at eleven. There was
only one thing further to do and, as his mouth watered he started to do just
that.
 It was so fresh, much to appetising to just turn away from. Just looking
into the small pee-hole, enabled Terry to taste the flavours and sensations
he knew he'd receive from such a delightfully boyish part. "Tell you what?"
he said, "Let me make it wet for you. Then it'll side easier in your hand,
okay?"
 Struggling to control his own lust, Terry spat on his hands and rubbed the
foamy liquid all over the boyish hard-on. He had more than enough spit to
cover the thing twice over. How good, how simple it would be to simply take
the thing into his mouth? He though, but he had to take it easy as he didn't
want to scare the boy.
 For the next few minutes both boys were content for the larger fingers to
work over the smaller erection, giving the budding pricklet a healthy pull
now and again. Then, the Donny, offered up another opening by asking, "Is
this all there is?"
 "No," Terry said,  "But you can't tell anyone about this. Okay?"
 "Sure! Go on."
 It was all Terry needed. His head bent down over the uptilted young penis
and he opened his mouth to take the thing right the way down to the base in
one eager swallow.
 Suddenly the impulse to giggle and squeal over took the youngster but,
following orders, he simply sat back and bit down on his lips to keep from
making any tell-tale signs but just how good the bigger boy's actions were
making him feel.
 Being new to the operation himself Terry hadn't thought such a young boy
could have caught on so fast and was slightly frustrated that al his actions
and attempts to stimulate the rock hard piece of meat in his mouth seemed to
have little effect. So, he tried harder and, suddenly, Donny's demeanour
changed drastically.
 "Stop, please stop!" the kid yelped. "It feels funny."
 The words, tinted with fright, brought Terry back to what he was doing and,
more importantly, who with. He pulled off. "that's enough for now, anyway."
he said. "I've got to go."
 "No wait," Donny yelled. "Please we could do it again. I won't be scared
next Time. Honest."
 "Sorry kid," Terry said, "You've had your chance. Maybe I'll see you
around."

Chapter 06: New beginnings

Arriving back at home Terry felt once more in control of his life, only,
when he entered his bedroom this quickly left him for it had been stripped
so only the bed and his homework chair and table remained. All his toys and
games and belongings had vanished. And, upon the bed, lay clothes, brand new
clothes that would have been suitable to a boy of Terry's age a generation
or two before but, never before would Terry have even considered wearing
them. Naturally, once the shock wore off, the by wasn't happy.
 Unbeknown to him, his mother had followed him up the stairs and, at this
very moment, stood quietly behind him waiting for the perfect moment to
interrupt his thoughts. "Terry have decided," she said purposely louder than
usual in order to make him start, "That a change is to take place in this
house. You, my boy, have been spoilt for far to long but that will be
stopping from now on. You have a minute to put on the clothes Terry have
laid out for you."
 Terry didn't know what to do. And, in fact, did nothing. Just stood and
stared.
 Mrs. Diamond went into action the moment the allotted Time had passed.
Believing in the predicable of shock, she advanced rapidly and struck her
son across the cheek. Terry, stunned, put his had up to his gaze, his mouth
gaping. Meanwhile, moving like a viper, his mother seized his other hand and
twisted it behind his back. The boy yelled and bent nearly double to ease
the pressure. His other hand was seized and completed the set behind him.
Then, from her pocket Mrs. Diamond produced a small strap with buckles and
swiftly fastened it around the boy's wrists, yanking the buckle tight. The
entire process taking little more than ten seconds.
 The woman sat on the bed and hauled Terry across her lap face upwards. His
legs kicked furiously but she ignored them as she turned her attention to
unfastening his trousers with one hand while the other kept him pressed in
place. His hands, bound as they were, behind his back, were useless to him
but still he shouted and cried as his trousers slipped to his thighs with a
purposeful tug.
 Having  pulled the trousers below the knees, Mrs. Diamond reached
underneath with her free hand, seized the wrists, and with a savage jerk
brought a howl from the imprisoned youth, spun him over in a rolling motion
that brought him face downwards. With her left hand she grasped the strapped
wrists and forced them away from her so forcing his head and torso down.
Then she folded his shirt up so the turned-back part enveloped the bound
wrists, tucking in the free end  to form a parcel that pinned the arms.
 Overpowered, face slapped, hands tied, trousers at his knees, held down
across his mother's lap while she carefully tucked up his shirt tails and
then - after a long pause, drew down the shorts he'd worn under his
trousers, Terry finally realised that things had, as his mother had said,
changed.
  The first slap brought forth a cry like a girl which he would continue to
do. Mrs. Diamond didn't have a large hand but she employed it with force,
instantly defining the natural rhythm of the chastisement, placing it where
it would have the greater effect yet, without hindering the all round,
greater effect upon the entire area. Holding Terry down with her left arm,
the short strap securing his wrists firmly twisted in her fingers, she
crouched over him like a raptor, her sharp, purposeful face only eighteen
inches from her target as she leaned closely into her work and laid down the
savage power.
 With a few seconds the target itself had begun to acquire an out-of-doors
complexion. By the twelfth crackling report it had pinkened considerably. A
full minute passed at the end of which the boy's stern had achieved a rich,
noble colour of raspberries. And still his mother continued.
 Terry, naturally didn't remain silent. His previous encounters had taught
him this was the worse thing he could do as it gave the impression the punis
hment wasn't working as well it might. Instead he roared and howled in a
shrill voice that was well beneath his thirteen years, all the Time weeping
so tears rolled from his nose down onto the carpet.
 After two minutes of solid, unrelenting, noisy punishment - during which
Time Terry's rear enjoyed the honour of well over fifty forceful spanks -
Terry's hoots and howls gradually ceased to afflict his mother's ears. The
boy's energies were now given over, exclusively, to weeping alone and,
recognising this, the spanking stopped.
 "Terry." she said.
 It was the quietest of questions but the boy fell silent.
 "Answer me. Say 'Yes Mother'."
 A pause, then: "Yes Mother." And a renewed outburst of weeping.
 "Good boy." said Mrs. Diamond, "You seem to be learning after all, that you
must do as you are told. Stand up."
 Terry did so, taking a watery minute to obey. He stooped for his trousers
but a light slap on the arm restrained him.
 "You won't be needing those any more as Terry have decided that you shall
wear shorts from now on, until you can prove you are grown up enough to wear
long trousers once more. Take them off. And stand in the corner until supper
is ready."
 Terry had a lot to think about while he did this for his mother laid down
the rules of what would, and wouldn't be allowed in the house from then on.
Not least of which being that, from now on, he would be having a baby-sitter
looking after him while she worked but that his wouldn't begin until the
following week giving the boy just once chance to do what he'd dreamed about
since meeting Donny in the park.




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