Mrs. Connelly's Red Indian Summer Camp for Boys

 Mrs Connelly had, for a number of years, been running a summer camp for boys. It was exceedingly popular with mums of teens who gave the camp their highest recommendation to friends and other family members, thus ensuring Mrs Connelly had little need to advertise the facilities available at her special summer long ‘Red Indian’ camp for boys aged between twelve and sixteen. Many of the boys had been sent to the camp year after year ever since first attending it when they were twelve years old. The mums were so relieved to have the burden of looking after their sons and finding things for them to do to keep them out of mischief, they gladly sent the boys off to camp to get them from under their feet.

The camp itself was set in a vast, remote lakeside woodland. Facilities for the boys were fairly basic since Mrs Connelly was a firm believer that boys in the age group that attended her summer camp didn’t need a lot of what she called ‘mollycoddling’. Besides they were kept so busy with various activities that boys didn’t have time to think about the comforts or distractions they might have found had they been allowed to stay at home.

The remoteness of the camp was a big selling point and it also meant the boys were free to take part in all the usual activities associated with camp life, including day-long hikes escorted by camp counsellors and traditional boys’ games as well as skinny-dipping in the lake, properly supervised of course.

Each year Mrs Connelly recruited around six girls to help supervise the boys. The girls were all aged roughly sixteen or seventeen and were specially selected after a rigorous interview conducted personally by Mrs Connelly. Competition among girls for the opportunity to be a counsellor at Mrs Connelly’s summer camps was keen, since a good reference from her was a guarantee of future work among families with teenage boys who needed looking after by well a trained girl counsellor. Two male counsellors, aged in their late teens or very early twenties, were also recruited by Mrs Connelly. These older boys (Mrs Connelly always referred to the male counsellors as ‘boys’) were expected to muck in and share the younger boys accommodation, act as rôle-models and to generally bond with the boys attending the summer camp.

The main accommodation for the boys, as well as the older boy counsellors, was a basic wooden bunkhouse. By comparison the girl counsellors had very comfortable dormitory accommodation in the ‘big house’, as Mrs Connelly’s well appointed residence was called. The girls each had their own private bathroom and shower, whereas the boys had to make to with open-air gang showers without privacy screens. In fact, as they quickly discovered, there was very little privacy for boys at all.

The boys bunkhouse was supplemented by a number of wigwams and teepees erected around the grounds for the boys to use during sleep-outs. From this it will be gathered that a major component of the camp was the ethos of the Red Indian, indeed boys at the camp were expected to dress in age appropriate costumes of Indian Braves. These days of course Mrs Connelly would be accused of ‘cultural appropriation’, but in the far off days in which my stories are set the idea of making young boys adopt the dress and partake of rituals, whether or not based in fact, did not to my knowledge cause the batting of one solitary eyelid. Indeed, as I have said, the parents of active, playful and at times rambunctious boys were only too happy to see their progeny taken off their hands for a few weeks during the summer holidays.

Arthur was twenty and his best buddy Leo nineteen, when they signed up as camp counsellors for the summer. Neither boy quite knew what he was in for, but they needed the money to help see them through another year at university. It was a friend of Leo’s mother who had heard of the jobs going at Mrs Connelly’s summer camp, but when he was told about it, Leo was less than enthusiastic. His mum went ballistic. Did Leo think he could laze about all summer and not lift a finger to earn some money? Didn’t he realise how much it was costing to keep him at university? Finally Leo’s mother told him flatly, he was going to work at Mrs Connelly’s Summer Camp… full stop!

Leo went to his room in a sulk. It was true, he could do with some money for sure, but the idea of being holed up in some summer camp… I mean, where’s the nearest club to this place, he asked himself, convinced it would be hell on earth to be stuck there all summer. He told his pal, Arthur in the hope he’d think of an excuse not to go.

“Come on… what have we got to lose, Leo? Being paid to keep an eye on a bunch of boys for a few months… Can’t be that difficult,” Arthur said. It was not the response Leo was after.

“Yeah, but…”

“Yeah, but what? We could both do with a break from studies… it’s been a tough year and neither of us have had much in the way of exercise… I can’t remember when I last swam or played sport of any sort. Jeez, Leo, we’d be paid real money to take a holiday!”

Put like that Leo acquiesced: “Okay, okay Art I give in… where do I sign?”

“We’d better ask for an application form first and hope no one else has been signed up… ask your mum’s friend if she’d write to the camp, she’s the one who knows all about it, isn’t she?”

Leo nodded and agreed, but his mother was ahead of him. She had spoken to her friend, explained the position and asked her to do all she could to get Leo and his friend Arthur jobs at the summer camp.

The friend duly forwarded an enthusiastic reference to Mrs Connelly saying what well behaved and trustworthy boys Leo and Arthur were. From the moment she received the letter along with the enclosed recent photos of the boys, Mrs Connelly was left in on doubt as to their suitability. 

The boys eagerly signed Mrs Connelly’s standard short-term contract. Mrs Connelly had been let down before by both boys and girls saying they were keen to work as camp counsellors, only to be told they weren’t coming after all, so she had a contract drawn up that, although it evoked fearsome penalties for breaking its terms, its validity in law was doubtful.

Along with the contracts Mrs Connelly sent the boys a brochure about the summer camp. They saw pictures of boys in Red Indian costumes which they thought were highly amusing. There were pictures of boys on hikes, boys sitting around a campfire and boys playing outdoor games. In each picture the boys were dressed in Red Indian costumes.

On another page they read that Mrs Connelly ran ‘Health and Welfare Classes’ for the boys. 

Art shrugged his shoulders when Leo asked what he thought those were all about: “Search me… health and welfare, I suppose.”

They turned a page to see a group of boys, this time not wearing their Red Indian costumes because they were all totally nude, running away from the camera toward a lake.

Art laughed: “Don’t forget to pack your Speedos, Leo…”

Leo didn’t pay much attention. He saw something far more interesting: “Hey! Look at this…”

Art popped a boner when he saw a photo of the girl counsellors in their skimpy outfits.

Leo panted like a demented dog as he thought of all the opportunities that were to be laid out before him in the coming months. He pushed his hand down the front of the shorts he was wearing and grabbed his stiff rod. Art saw what he was doing and laughed: “Can’t you leave that thing alone for five minutes?!”

“But they’re so hot!!” Leo was beside himself, “I can’t believe we never heard of this place before… please, tell me I’m not dreaming, Art…”

“You’re not dreaming, buddy… we’ll be spending all summer there, so save your juices!”

There was a picture towards the back of the brochure which sort of puzzled Art. It was the only photo in which boy counsellors appeared. There was nothing Art could put his finger on, so he didn’t bother mentioning it to Leo, but it was the expression on one of the boy’s faces. He couldn’t quite make out what it was. The photo was nothing special, just two boys about Art’s age, photographed waist up, bare chested, with their arms over each other’s shoulders just as Art and Leo did sometimes after they’d been working out, or maybe doing some aerobic exercises together. There were three smiling girl counsellors wearing crop-tops in the picture as well, but although the girls’ smiles were obviously genuine, the boys’ smiles looked a little forced. Maybe that’s what Art found a bit strange, but he knew if he said anything to Leo, now that Leo’d seen all those girls, it would be a complete waste of time. Leo wouldn’t be listening to anything he said.

A covering letter from Mrs Connelly told the boys that everything they needed would be supplied, including all necessary clothing, towels and sheets. The letter was signed off with a few jolly words, ‘Just bring a toothbrush!’. Of course neither Art nor Leo was quite prepared to take Mrs Connelly literally at her word, so they made sure to pack their hiking shorts, T-shirts and Speedos… as well as a toothbrush.

Leo’s mother drove the boys to the camp reception site. The summer camp itself was situated a few miles off the main road down tracks unsuitable for ordinary vehicles. There was a small hut in which new arrivals could wait, just off the road. Leo’s mother pulled up as the heavens opened. Art and Leo jumped out into the pouring rain and dashed for the hut as the car pulled away. Dripping wet the boys looked at one another.

“Did you pick up the bags?” Leo asked.

“No… didn’t you?” Art replied. Already he could feel his anger rising, “You were sitting on the back seat!” he shouted, “Why didn’t pick them up? For Chrissakes, man!”

“I didn’t think mum was going to drive off like that… It’s not my fault…”

“Yeah… it never is your fault, like the time we got stuck at your sister’s party…”

“You always bring that up… the girls were just having fun… I didn’t think that would happen…”

“That’s your trouble, Leo, you don’t… Your dick does it all for you…”

“Ha… bloody… ha…”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it… ever since we were kids you’ve never left your dick alone… you made sure you won every wanking competition going… even now, just the other day at the pool in the changing cubicle you were so horny you couldn’t keep your hands off that sausage of yours… it wasn’t funny… couldn’t you have waited till I’d got out of the cubicle before you jerked off? Your spunk went all up my arm, you filthy little sod…”

“Yup… sorry about that buddy… I can’t help it if I’m horny all the time…”

Art calmed down and sighed: “Look… what are we going to do? I thought the transport from the camp would be here to meet us…”

“Start walking, I guess… I mean we’re both soaked to the skin already. If it chucks it down again we’re not going to get any wetter…”

“You’re right , bud… let’s mosey on down the ole trail…”

Art and Leo stepped out of the hut. Although it had stopped raining, thick droplets of rainwater pelted them every few feet as the branches overhead shook in the breeze. About twenty minutes into their hike the boys heard a vehicle approaching and around a bend ahead of them a red flatbed truck appeared with Mrs Connelly herself at the wheel. Squeezed in beside her were three of the girl counsellors who’d asked just to come along for the ride, but in reality they were keen to check out the boys. The cab wasn’t big enough for them all to sit side by side, so one of the girls was sat in her friend’s lap and got first sight of Art and Leo.

“Oh… you should see them… soaked to the skin!”

“A-dorable!!”

“Lemme see! Lemme see!”

It was Mrs Connelly’s turn to speak: “What on earth are they doing here? Couldn’t they have waited for us. I told them… or at least one of their mothers what time I’d pick them up. Now they’ve gone and got themselves soaked. We’d better make sure they get changed when we get them to the camp…”

She lowered the side window: “Arthur and Leonard? Why? Oh never mind… hop on the back and hold on tight… I’ll have to go up to the main road to turn round… you should have stayed where you were…” She raised the window again as the boys climbed onto the back of the truck, “Boys…” she said shaking head. The girls giggled. They were looking forward to seeing more of Art and Leo… a lot more!

The truck lumbered along the muddy track. It seemed to Art and Leo to take just as long to get back to the main road as it had for them to walk as far as they had. And they were not only getting even wetter, but slugs of mud were flung up at them as the truck bounced along the rutted track. Mrs Connelly turned the truck around just as the clouds cleared to let the summer sun break through.

“Still holding on, boys?” she called.

“Yes, Mrs Connelly!” Art and Leo called back, “Still here…”

“Good… hang on tight and we’ll be at the camp in no time…”

Mrs Connelly lived up to her promise and put her foot down. She always found the going easier on her way to the camp for some reason and the boys hung on to each other, as well as the side panels of the flatbed, as they were flung about getting more splattered with mud. Mrs Connelly drove straight to the boys’ section of the camp and when they arrived both Art and Leo were a complete mess. They had both been wearing shorts and a T-shirt, but these were almost unrecognisable, just as wet and muddy as the rest of their bodies as they climbed off the back of the truck.

The girls laughed at the sight of Art and Leo. Mrs Connelly shook her head from side to side and muttered: “Well I never…” as if the boys had got into such a state on purpose.

“You’d both better get stripped off before you get a chill. There’s a shower for boys round the other side of the bunkhouse… that’s where you’ll be staying. You’ll find the outfits you’ll be wearing in there on your beds. Any questions?”

Art spoke: “Leo managed to leave our bags in his mum’s car, so all we’ve got is what we’re wearing…”

“How unfortunate… but never mind, you’ll find that boys don’t need much at this camp…”

Leo fumed, but said nothing.

Mrs Connelly turned to the girls: “Phoebe… you go up to the big house and help Jane in the kitchen… Jo and Maria… in need you to bring some blankets from the storeroom for the boys… it still gets a bit chilly at night,” she explained to Art and Leo who were still standing looking perplexed, not knowing quite what they’d let themselves in for.

“Chop! Chop!” Mrs Connelly said as she clapped her hands, “Get those wet things off and take a shower…”

Art and Leo jumped to it and shot round the corner in the direction they’d been told the showers were situated. As soon as they were out of sight of Mrs Connelly Leo turned to look at his friend.

“Jeez… those girls are hot!”

“Yes, I saw where your hands were…”

“It’s going to be tough…”

“Hard work you might say…” said Art laughing.

“Very funny… I can’t help it if I’m over-sexed…”

They both came to a sudden halt when they saw the very basic showers.

“Is this it! Jeez… anyone could walk past and see us…”

“These must be for the boys, Leo… she can’t mean these… I mean they’re out of the ark… better make do with them until we find out where our showers are… come on get stripped off…” Art said as he pulled off his soaking wet, mud-spattered T-shirt. His muddy shorts were stuck to him and it was a struggle to get them off. Art had got them about halfway down his legs when Mrs Connelly walked round the corner.

“Haven’t you boys showered yet? Come on, Arthur… give me those wet things. Leo… we don’t stand on ceremony here… get those clothes off before you get a chill. I’ll take these wet things of yours up to the laundry for you.”

Art did as he was told. He finished unhooking his wet shorts from his feet and handed over his things to Mrs Connelly as Leo hummed and hawed.

Art walked over to the open showers, turned the tap and started to rinse off the mud. Art had dark hair, whereas Leo was almost ash-blond. Art carried on washing himself, feeling refreshed after being bounced about as he’d hung on to the back of the flat bed truck.

Mrs Connelly’s voice deepened: “Leo… I’m waiting…” When Leo continued to hesitate, she added, “There’s no call for you boys to be so modest… I can assure you that you’ve got nothing to show that I’ve not seen before… now get those wet things off and get under the shower with Arthur…”

A red-faced and nervous Leo eventually pulled off his wet clothes. His partial erection was plain to see as he handed over his shorts and T-shirt. Mrs Connelly glanced at Leo’s exposed appendage, but other than a barely audible click of her tongue, she said nothing. She had just turned to go when Phoebe rushed around the corner: “Jane wants to know if there’s any more tins of chopped tomatoes…”

When they heard Phoebe’s voice both Art and Leo quickly turned on their heels so their backs were towards the girl. They clutched their hands between their legs. Phoebe smiled and relished the kudos of being the first girl to see the boy counsellors in the nude, even if it was just their bottoms. Mrs Connelly knew what she was up to and rolled her eyes upward before speaking: “Jane knows full well where the tins of tomatoes are kept… really!” She might have added that Phoebe knew perfectly well herself and that there was no need for her to come and ask.

“Let’s leave the boys to finish showering,” Mrs Connelly said to Phoebe before turning and calling out to Art and Leo, “I’ll take these clothes up to the big house for a good wash… If you want something to wear in the meantime, you’ll find your summer camp outfits on your bunks inside the hut…”

Leo turned towards Art: “What does she mean ‘If you want something to wear’. What is this? Some kind of nudist camp?”

“I expect she was just having a joke… we’ve got outfits to wear she said while our stuff’s being washed…”

“That Phoebe…” Leo started to say before Art told him to shut up and finish washing.

There were no towels to be seen, so the two boys were forced to ‘air dry’. Luckily for them the clouds had lifted and the sun was back out. It didn’t take long to dry off and the nude boys stepped into the bunkhouse for the first time.

“It’s a bit basic,” were Leo’s first words.

“It’s a bunkhouse, what do you expect?”

“Which bunks d’you think ours are, Art?”

“How should I know… the ones with the outfits lying on them, I guess…”

“What these?” Leo said as he picked up a couple of flimsy strips of soft leather held together by leather laces. “What do you think these are?” he asked Art.

Art felt as if a mule had just kicked him in the stomach. He knew very well what Leo was holding up and waving in front of his face.

“It’s called a loincloth, Leo… Red Indians wore them…” he explained, “Remember those photos in the brochure Mrs Connelly sent us?”

Leo looked closely at the strips of leather: “Doesn’t seem to be much of it… it’s for the kids I guess…”

“Er, no, Leo, I don’t think so… didn’t you hear what Mrs Connelly said? They’re for us to wear…” Art informed his buddy.

Leo’s jaw nearly hit the floor: “You’ve got to be kidding, Art… this thing’s tiny! She can’t expect us to wear these…” Leo held the strip of leather up to himself. His penis was only just covered by the soft leather. “Chrisake… if I get a hard-on… Jeez!”

Art could help but laugh: “Whad’ya mean if you get a hard-on? You pop a boner every time the wind changes direction… You’ll just have to learn some self-control.”

Art picked up the other loincloth and held it against himself. Leo was right, the thin, soft strips of chamois leather only just covered his penis too. He looked up to see that Leo was tying the strings of his loincloth. Art watched as Leo pulled at the leather flaps, adjusting it try and cover himself front and rear.

Leo, with a goofy grin, looked at his buddy: “Hey, it feels kinda cool… put yours on, Art.” Leo looked down at himself, then pushed his hips out a little and changing his voice so he sounded serious asked, “Tell me, Art… do my balls look big in this? Be honest…”

Leo’s question had both boys in fits of laughter. Leo helped Art to get the strings on his loincloth tied. They stood and looked at each other. They soon figured out that for the best coverage both loincloths had to be worn as low as possible which meant the boys’ pubic hair was visible as it curled over the top of the front flap. It was possibly at this point Art realised why the boy counsellors they’d seen in the brochure looked so glum. Maybe it was because they were wearing similar loincloths to the type Leo and Art were now wearing.

“Hey! Look what I’ve found…” Leo called. While Art was contemplating the next few months counselling boys wearing nothing but a skimpy loincloth, Leo had been poking about the bunkhouse.

“What’ve you found?”

Leo waved a headband and some long feathers: “... moccasins too… this is going to be fun!” Leo opened another cupboard and yelled with delight: “Tomahawks! Not real ones… plastic… and… oh, gosh… there’s bows and arrows… toy ones…” He turned to Art with a big grin on his face, “If the Cavalry come… we’ll be ready for ‘em…” he said as he waved a rubber tomahawk above his head.

Art looked with disbelief at his best friend as he watched him pull on the headband, the moccasins and some armbands he’d found. Although Art was the older of the two, there was little more than six months between them. They had always been close and there hadn’t been a time when they’d not shared secrets. Growing up together they’d got up to all sorts of adventures and scrapes… though more through luck than by judgement they’d come through unharmed. Even before puberty the boys had found out the pleasures to be had from masturbation and Art remembered how he had demonstrated to an incredulous Leo what fun it was to play with your penis. Now in front of him in the buckhouse, Leo had reverted to become the exuberant, boisterous boyhood friend that Art remembered. Art watched as Leo leapt about waving a rubber tomahawk, his loincloth flapping about, as he performed some sort of improvised war dance.

“Leo… we’re supposed to be looking after the kids, not behaving like them…”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport… I was just getting into the mood for when the boys arrive…”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Leo?” Art asked.

Leo stopped jumping about and furrowed his brows.

“The girls, Leo… there are girls… do you really want them to think you’re a dickhead?”

“It’s too late for that…” A girl’s voice informed him.

Leo’s hands went straight for the front of his loincloth when he saw Phoebe and Maria in the doorway.

“Jeez.. couldn’t you have knocked or something?” Leo protested.

“What on earth for?” Phoebe said, “Maria and I were enjoying your dance. Chill out… this is a summer camp… all the boys love playing Red Indians and you two are their Heap Big Chiefs…” As she said the last few words, Phoebe cast her eyes downwards and made no secret that she was looking at Leo’s loincloth.

“Oh, and by the way,” Maria chipped in, “Mrs Connelly likes her Indian Chiefs to be neater than that,” she nodded at Leo’s ash-blond pubic hair showing above the loincloth flap, “I’ve got some scissors… I could give them a nice trim… you too,” she added looking at Art.

“I don’t think so,” Art said as firmly as he could given that he had only a thin strip of soft leather between modesty and total exposure. Art was also painfully aware that his rear flap was actually shorter and thinner than the one at the front, so in order to hide his almost bare bottom, he stood facing the girls.

Maria shrugged her shoulders: “Have it your own way…”

Phoebe feigned indifference too even though she was as curious as her fellow counsellors to see even more of the two new boys: “Mrs Connelly says you can come up to the big house for something to eat,” she said, “Only today though… when the boys arrive here tomorrow, you’ll be eating with them…”

“Can you boys cook?” Maria asked.

“Course I can cook,” Leo replied.

“Yeah, he can open a tin of beans…” Art added with a chuckle.

“C’mon… let’s get a move on… doesn’t do to keep Mrs Connelly waiting,” Phoebe said as she hustled them all out of the bunkhouse. Art and Leo were careful to walk behind the girls as they made their way up to the big house. They were even more careful to see that the front tabs of their loincloths didn’t flap to one side. This was tricky as the strips of leather were thin and the slightest movement or puff of wind uncovered things which the boys would rather have left covered, so they kept their hands pressed to their loincloths in order to preserve their modesty.

“Ah, there you are!” Mrs Connelly called from the terrace of the big house, “It’s turned out so nice that I thought we would eat out here,” she paused to direct her gaze towards Art and Leo, “I see you found your summer camp outfits… and Leo, you look just wonderful… the headband and feather suit you…”

Maria spoke up: “I did tell them how you liked boys to look, but they both refused… I had a pair of scissors with as well…”

Mrs Connelly looked at the boys a little more closely: “Hmm, I see what you mean… it’ll be a distraction for the younger boys…”

“But we won’t be wearing this outfit all the time… will we?” Art interrupted, “I mean… we can have our shorts back when they’ve been washed, can’t we?”

Mrs Connelly sighed: “Of course… but the thing is the water supply here is very expensive, so we only do any laundry when there’s a full load for the machine. Seeing as this is the start of the summer camp, it’s likely to be a long way off before we can justify doing any laundry…”

Art got the feeling that the mule was back and had kicked him in the stomach again.

Mrs Connelly saw how he’d reacted to her news: “But you’ve got your outfits… cheer up… they’ll be plenty of indian braves to keep you company tomorrow and as soon as we’ve got enough laundry to do, you’ll be the first to know…”

Art couldn’t believe he and Leo would be expected to wear the flimsy loincloths for the foreseeable future… and he couldn’t believe the words he spoke in reply: “Thank you, Mrs Connelly…” Jeez, he thought to himself, Jeez did I just thank her for making me wear this?!

Maria gave a slight cough. That was enough to remind Mrs Connelly that her two new boy counsellors needed smartening up if they were to be wearing nothing but loincloths for the summer.

“Yes, Maria… we can’t have our boy counsellors looking untidy,” she turned to the boys, “I’m sure you understand, you see most of the boys who come to summer camp haven’t grown any…” she looked pointedly at the pubic hair visible above the loincloths of Art and Leo, “It won’t take a minute for Maria to tidy you up a bit…”

Art thought it best to keep quiet… for the moment anyhow, but Leo wasn’t about to give up his pubic hair without a protest: “But… but,” he stuttered, sounding for all the world like a boy six or seven years younger “It’s not fair! Pleeease… do I have to?” Leo might have added there weren’t many fine blond hairs there in the first place, an incontrovertible fact as he was an extremely late developer. Art could remember Leo asking him to check to see if he had sprouted any boy-hairs and how he’d taken hold of his friend’s penis to pull it from side to side to see if Leo had started to grow any hairs. Leo was sixteen at the time. The late arrival of his pubic hair was obviously why Leo was not very keen to see it disappear.

“But it’s just a trim, so it’s not all untidy curling above your loincloth,” Maria explained.

Art knew why Leo was so reluctant to have his pubic hair trimmed. Art could afford to lose a few of his dark hairs above his loincloth. Even though, like Leo, his scrotum was still smooth and hairless, Art had noticeably more hairs around his penis, whereas Leo still had very few. The hairs visible were pretty well all the pubic hair that Leo possessed. Art knew as well as Leo, that if Maria started to trim Leo’s little bush, he’d more than likely be left with no pubic hair at all!

“I really don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,” Mrs Connelly said, “I’m sure they’ll grow back after summer camp has finished. Now let’s have no more of this silly behaviour… Maria, would you make sure you do this properly. As I explained to you earlier it’s important there is no hair visible above their costumes… I don’t want the little boys getting all inquisitive, or upset if they see their counsellors have got hair where they have none…”

“Yes, Mrs Connelly,” Maria replied. Remembering what was said, she fetched shaving foam and a razor…

Art and Leo, much as they might have preferred otherwise, knew they had to cooperate with whatever was required of them. Art couldn’t very well back out as he’d been the one to convince Leo of the rewards of the summer months spend at the camp. And there was absolutely no way that Leo would be able to face his mother ever again after witnessing her uncompromising attitude to what she deemed was her son’s reluctance to earn some money. If he walked out of this job as counsellor at the camp what hope would there be of touching his mother for some dosh to tide him over? None at all.

It took two girls, Maria and Phoebe, to remove all visible pubic hair from Art and Leo. Art watched as Leo leant back against a table, supporting himself with his hands laid flat on the table-top. The girls knelt at Leo’s feet and it took less than half a minute before the little flap of soft leather was pushed to one side by Leo’s stiffening penis. First the tip of Leo’s foreskin was seen peeking out at the bottom of the chamois flap. Then the flap was raised slowly in front of Maria and Phoebe, until Leo’s penis was pointing more or less straight at the girls. Maria waited patiently, scissors in her hand, as the leather flap started to slide off the penis to one side. Leo’s balls were completely revealed and the girls could see they were quite devoid of hair.

Art knew that his buddy would never be able to be in such close proximity to two beautiful girls like Maria and Phoebe without popping a boner, so to him it was no surprise, but that didn’t stop him from feeling embarrassed for the shame he knew it must be causing Leo. Leo’s erection almost hid completely the tuft of light-coloured pubic hair. Leo sucked in his lips as the girls pondered what to do with the erection so obviously in the way.

“I think you’d better help us, Art,” Maria said and turned ask Phoebe if she’d mind taking off Leo’s loincloth, “... it’s going to get in the way,” she explained.

Art stepped forward between the two girls. He looked Leo straight in the eyes and thought about saying something to comfort his best mate, but realised it’d be of little use. Leo now wore nothing apart from a headband with a huge feather attached, a couple of armbands and a pair of moccasins. Art could see how mortified his friend was and realised Leo was probably busy praying that his situation wouldn’t get any worse. How worse could it get? It didn’t take a genius to realise the danger of holding Leo’s penis without any thought to the consequences of mishandling it. Art knew Leo and so he carefully took hold of his friend’s penis about midway down the shaft before easing out of the way for Maria. He took great care to avoid the ultra sensitive head.

Phoebe look up at Art quizzically.

“Believe me, I know what I’m doing…” Art said in answer to her unasked question.

Leo’s penis out of the way, Maria started to snip away at the little tuft of hair. Leo was breathing hard, doing his best to control himself and promising himself a really good wank later. He’d never had a girl so close to his penis before, since in spite of all his braggadocio, Leo was still a virgin.

Locks of Leo’s almost translucent pubic hair tumbled down his legs as Maria’s scissors cut off more and more of the curly hair until all there was left was some barely visible stubble. But even this was considered too much to leave in sight of impressionable young boys. Art knew what was coming next and watched as Phoebe helped Maria to rub some shaving foam around the base of Leo’s penis. Art held on tight to his buddy’s stiff rod. Maria picked up the small safety razor and within seconds had reduced Leo to the status of a ‘baldie’ once more. Art released his grip on Leo’s penis. He saw moisture in his buddy’s eyes and so was not surprised when Leo rushed off so fast he forgot to pick up his loincloth.

Art, being a little more mature than Leo, managed to control himself as the girls set about trimming his pubic hair. Maria merely clipped the hairs that had curled over the top of the loincloth and after a quick shave of the resultant stubble, declared her work done.

Mrs Connelly came back: “I’ve just seen Leo… I didn’t mean you to remove all his pubic hair, girls… Leo looks as bald as a coot…”

“I’m sorry Mrs Connelly, but there really wasn’t much hair around Leo’s penis,” Maria explained, “...and once I’d given it a trim with my scissors, there didn’t seem much point leaving two or three little hairs, so Phoebe and I just shaved them off with the stubble… Sorry if we should have left them, Mrs Connelly…”

“Well, want’s done is done… but I hope you’ve left Arthur with some pubic hair, we’ve got to have at least one boy with some hair down there for the boys’ ‘Health and Welfare’ classes.”

When Art returned to the bunkhouse he saw that Leo had been crying. Leo still wore the headband, armband and moccasins he’d found earlier. Art was holding the loincloth he’d picked up from where Leo had left it up at the big house.

“Here, buddy… I’m sorry you had to loose your hairs, but they’ll grow back and besides there won’t be many kids with them…” Art said as he tried to console his friend.

Leo looked up, his eyes still red and sore: “... and I’ll be just like one of them… won’t I?” There was an understandable bitterness in his voice.

“No you won’t, buddy… not with a dick like yours…”

Leo looked up and managed a smile: “Jeez… I thought I was going to cum… I really did. They’re so hot… I fancy Phoebe… don’t you think she’s… she’s…”

“Hot?” Art suggested.

“Yeah… hot…”

“Don’t get your hopes up, old buddy… we’re here to look after the boys and I don’t think Mrs Connelly will take too kindly if she finds out there’s been any hanky-panky between boy and girl counsellors…”

“Hanky-panky?!” Leo spluttered his amusement at Art’s choice of phrase. “Why not?”

“I’ll tell you why not,” Art was flabbergasted by Leo’s stupidity, “If you get into trouble with Mrs Connelly she’ll throw you… and probably me, off the camp. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when your mother found out… and when she finished with you, you’d have me to contend with. Look, buddy were on velvet here… summer work outdoors, well paid in a place where we can’t spend it… and all we’ve got to do is look after a few boys, keep them happy and do what Mrs Connelly asks… Please Leo, don’t screw things up…”

Art gave Leo the loincloth he’d left behind: “Put this back on, buddy… somehow I think it might be a while before we get our stuff back from the laundry…”

Adam and the Coach - Part 2

 

“Of course you are, Adam… just as long as this stays on where it belongs,” Coach Peters said in reply to Adam’s question - ‘this’ being of course the chastity cage that now encased Adam’s genitals.

Hand on heart, Adam couldn’t honestly say that he was as pleased as he thought he would’ve been at the news of his selection to join the Alpha Squad. In truth the loss of what might be called his ‘masturbation privileges’, alarming though it was, hadn’t quite sunk in. Sure, he regretted not finishing the surreptitious wank he’d had in his bedroom while Coach Peters was talking to his parents, but long term - a future of wankless frustration- no, that desert wasteland, barren of pleasure, hadn’t fully hit home.

“... AND you behave yourself, Adam,” his mother snapped, “... because if I ever find out that you’ve been playing with your… with yourself, I shall not hesitate to inform Coach Peters and tell her that you are no longer fit to be a member of the Alpha Squad… Do I make myself clear?”

Adam couldn’t believe the injustice of it… there he stood in the middle of the living-room naked save for a humiliating chastity cage and his mum was telling him that if she found out he’d had a wank, she’d get him slung out of the Squad. How could he possibly masturbate with this device locked onto his nob? Adam could see clearly that with this thing in place there was no room for an erection, never mind the chance of a wank. He wondered how other boys in the Alpha Squad managed.

“But, mum… how can I?” Adam blurted out, before he realised this was a tacit admission that he had indeed been masturbating.

“I’m sure Adam will behave himself… won’t you son?” Johnny Barrow, Adam’s father interjected, after all, like Adam, he couldn’t see how anyone could possibly play with themselves wearing one of Coach’s chastity cages.

His wife sniffed: “You haven’t managed to stop Adam from misbehaving so far, have you Johnny? So I’m not sure we should rely on his word that he’s been behaving himself. I want you to keep a much closer eye on Adam in future, Johnny… and if I even suspect our son has been masturbating I shall get on to Coach Peters straight away.”

Adam was shocked. He was so thrilled to be selected for the Alpha Squad and he couldn’t bear the thought of ever being thrown out of it again.

“I won’t, mum… I won’t, honest I won’t…”

It would have broken your heart to see Adam, a normal sixteen year old boy, pleading with his mum, begging her to believe in his future good behaviour. Adam possessed all the natural urges and desires of a boy his age and now he was committing himself to a life of chastity. Ruth Barrow hunched her shoulders and sniffed once more as if to say she’d believe that when she saw it.

It was down to Coach Peters to lighten the mood in the Barrow’s living-room.

“I’m sure Adam will set a fine example to all the boys who see him wearing his chastity cage. I’ve seen how dedicated he is. Once he sets his mind to achieving goals, there’s no boy in my experience like him. It’s all down to focus… focus, focus, focus and now that Adam has accepted that he needs to be in chastity and forget about wasting all his energies masturbating, I believe we’ll see great progress… won’t we Adam?”

“Sure thing, Coach,” Adam assured Coach Peters in that ‘aw-gee-shucks’ keen as mustard manner that so annoyed his mother. Quite where he got it from she didn’t know… probably from watching too much American television, she thought and sniffed disapprovingly.

“Now there are just one or two minor issues that we need to address…” Coach Peters said casually.

“Mum… can I go back to my bedroom now? I’ve got to finish my homework,” Adam asked. It wasn’t much fun standing with no clothes on in the living-room in front of his parents and Coach Peters. And he’d heard enough about chastity cages to be going on with, besides he wanted to have a closer look at the thing that had been locked onto his penis.

“I thought you’d have finished your homework by now, Adam…” his mum said with more than a hint of suspicion apparent in her voice. Now she knew that Adam had been masturbating, any tardiness on his behalf was now open to a new, quite shocking interpretation.

“It would be best if Adam stays while I run through the hygiene procedures and, er, certain other issues,” Coach Peters said, “It will be a lot easier to explain with him here in front of us…”

Johnny Barrow once more squirmed in his seat. His heart went out to his son stood a few feet away wearing nothing but that awful device. The two women in the room had made their positions with regard to masturbation very clear and appeared quite unconcerned for Adam’s modesty. The fact that he was nude didn’t bother them at all. Johnny was left with the distinct impression that anyone could walk into the room and neither woman would bat an eyelid. Indeed they would more than likely be treated to a full description of events so far.

Coach Peters, Johnny was sure, really did want to get the best performance possible from talented boys like Adam. If that meant putting them into permanent chastity, then that was a price worth paying for the greater good of the Squad. Boys in the Alpha Squad must - and here Johnny started to have doubts about his reasoning - these boys must somehow want to be controlled, to be denied the ability to masturbate. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely any healthy young boy told he’d have to accept enforced chastity would simply walk away… wouldn’t they? But they didn’t - well at least enough of them didn’t to form the Squad. That puzzled Johnny. Surely all the boys in the Squad couldn’t have mothers as strong-willed as Adam’s?

So what was it that made the Alpha Squad boys so compliant?

Johnny was so far immersed in his thoughts and speculations that he didn’t at first grasp what Coach Peters was saying.

“... these cuffs will keep Adam’s hands out of the way while his cage is unlocked and removed for cleaning. With his hands secured behind his back, Adam will be unable to handle his penis… is that clear?”

“Do we have to use the cuffs every time we take off the, er cage?” Johnny asked, shocked by this new development. The cage, it seemed, was only one of the steps involved in preventing Adam from playing with his penis. What next, Johnny wondered?

Ruth rolled her eyes up, astonished that her husband could be so slow on the uptake. She sighed audibly:

“Of course Adam needs to be prevented from touching himself… that’s what the cage is for, Johnny… and if the cage has to be taken off, then Adam has to have his hands held out of the way… I should have thought that was obvious, Johnny… you know boys aren’t to be trusted.”

Johnny blushed. It wasn’t pleasant to be criticised in this way in front of Coach Peters, never mind his son.

“All I was thinking, dear, was that if Adam was to hold his hands up behind his neck, for instance…” he said in an effort to save his dignity.

Coach Peters smiled: “If only boys could be trusted to do as they were told, Mr Barrow. I’m sure you have the best of intentions, but believe me when a boy has not been permitted to masturbate for a prolonged period… say eight or nine months, the temptation to touch his penis is overwhelming…”

Eight or nine months! Adam could hardly believe his ears. The thought of not being able to have a wank for months on end was appalling.

“That’s why we need to address another concern,” Coach Peters added.

“And what might that be?” Ruth Barrow said.

“Just because a boy is in chastity it doesn’t mean he stops producing certain, er bodily fluids,” Coach Peters explained, “Indeed, in certain cases I’ve known boys to actually increase the amount of these fluids their teenage bodies create. If this is not dealt with it can lead to problems… what one might call ‘uncontrolled leakage’ caused by the build up of these fluids...”

“It sounds perfectly disgusting,” Ruth interjected, “How do you deal with it?”

“Obviously we can’t allow this to happen… and it would be unfair to the boy’s parents to have to contend with their son’s over-active secretions, so boys in the Alpha Squad undergo regular sessions to drain them of their excess bodily fluids…”

This news sparked different reactions from each member of the Barrow family. Adam, fresh from the realisation he would be prevented from indulging in one of his favourite pastimes, was keen to know just what these sessions would involve in the hope that any outcome would at least bring with it the thrill he experienced when he masturbated. Johnny, for his part, simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Things went from bad to worse for boys in the Alpha Squad it seemed to him. Impressionable boys hoodwinked, as he saw it, into accepting strict chastity, a chastity enforced by locking a special cage over their young genitals… and now what? He felt obliged to ask Coach Peters what these ‘regular sessions’ consisted of and just how precisely were the unfortunate boys drained of their fluids. But before he had time to frame his questions his wife, Ruth had a few words of her own to say.

Ruth, upon hearing the words ‘excess bodily fluids’ was positively revolted… however, she was made of sterner stuff and knew where her duty lay. Boys, all boys, needed a firm hand if they were to be kept from getting above themselves. Johnny had been far too lenient with Adam and Ruth blamed herself for not being stricter with them both.

“I do trust you’re not going to tell me you pander to their baser instincts during these sessions,” she said, positively seething with indignation, “I simply couldn’t condone Adam’s presence in the Squad if these sessions of yours involved anything at all… sordid…”

“I can put your mind at rest straightaway, Mrs Barrow,” Coach Peters replied, “Boys are relieved of the buildup of their fluids by a process known as ‘milking’. This technique has been perfected by a fully qualified paediatrician and she always attends the sessions…”

“But I thought paediatricians were concerned with younger boys…”

“Her specialism,” Coach Peters interrupted Mrs Barrow, “...is the study of puberty in boys and I can assure you she views boys of Adam’s age as still very much within her remit. She has given freely of her time to the club… in particular the Alpha Squad team members. Adam will be seeing a lot of Dr. Shute in the coming weeks, I can assure of that.”

Johnny summoned up the courage to speak. He coughed… “Ahem… what exactly does this procedure involve, might I ask?”

Ruth was shocked at the forthright nature of her husband’s question: “Johnny!”

“... but I thought we should… and Adam of course… that Coach Peters should… should give us some idea of what’s involved…”

“I’m sure that if Coach Peters says that a qualified medical person is in attendance for these so-called milking sessions, then there is no need for us to concern ourselves with the details…”

“I’m sure that is the case, dear, but wouldn’t it be helpful to know what’s involved… I mean Adam might want to talk to us about it… what happens during the procedure… he might need reassuring…”

To his surprise, Coach Peters took Johnny’s side straightaway: “Yes, your husband is perfectly correct,” she said, addressing Ruth Barrow, “It does help the boys come to terms with the milking procedure if they feel their parents understand the process. Quite often boys… when they are milked for the first time, find they need reassurance and consolation… they can feel short-changed…”

“In what way ‘short-changed’,” Ruth asked.

“The girls who carry out the milking…”

Ruth was flabbergasted: “Girls!”

“Vicky Protheroe and Poppy Haydock have both been fully trained by Dr Shute to assist and, when required, to carry out full milkings…”

Adam couldn’t believe his ears. Vicky Protheroe and Poppy Haydock were girls at his own school! They were only a year ahead of him… and they were milking boys! Adam felt his penis straining against his chastity cage. If he’d understood what milking involved, he might not have been so excited.

“Please put your mind at rest, Mrs Barrow, the girls take their duties seriously,” Coach Peters assured her, “They wouldn’t have been allowed into the boys’ changing room if it were felt they had only volunteered for purient reasons.”

Ruth was to some extent placated: “I’m pleased to hear that and I’m sure that if the girls are as sensible as you say…”

“... but we still don’t know what’s involved,” Johnny interjected.

“Well, if you didn’t keep interrupting, Johnny, Coach Peters might be able to tell us…” Ruth sighed, exasperated by her husband’s seemingly constant and unnecessary interjections. “I do wish you wouldn’t interfere like this, Johnny… you do want what’s best for Adam, don’t you?”

“Yes… yes, of course I do, dear… it’s just that we’ve no idea what Adam will be expected to do when he is, er… milked…”

Ruth was getting exceedingly impatient with Johnny and was about to let her feelings show. However, Coach Peters saw that a parental dispute at this stage would not help Adam. Coach needed the support of both parents if she was to successfully induct their son into the Alpha Squad. She quickly stepped in to prevent the situation getting out of hand.

“As I was saying, Dr Shute has recruited Vicky and Poppy to help with milking the Alpha Squad boys. Given the number of boys in the Squad, Dr Shute couldn’t possibly be expected to carry out all the milkings personally, which is why the girls were asked to help. As I also said, Vicky and Poppy have both been fully trained and carry out their duties with commendable efficiency. One or two of the boys were, let’s say, a little uncooperative to begin with when Vicky and Poppy first started to assist with milking duties, but the girls soon made it clear they wouldn’t stand for any nonsense from them… I think their babysitting experiences with younger teen boys helped enormously and was probably one of the reasons Dr Shute recruited them in the first place.”

Adam was beginning to have second thoughts. He knew that Vicky and Poppy had a reputation for coming out with some truly scathing ‘put-downs’ if they thought a boy was getting too big for his boots. Yes, Adam was also aware of boys who had tried it on with either Vicky or Poppy and had come away with fleas in their ears much to the amusement, it has to be said, of other boys and their mates standing within earshot. Even so, the thought… the very idea, of Poppy Haydock manipulating his penis caused Adam’s heart rate to escalate dangerously, which in turn caused his penis to strain painfully against its cage. Adam struggled to think of something less stimulating; the homework he’d been doing; Miss Brown, the gorgon who taught Geography; his football team’s miserable performance in the Third Division… anything to take his mind off the hands of Poppy Haydock. But then Coach Peters started to explain to his parents what was involved in carrying out the milking procedure.

“The boys all line up… stripped nude of course, but before a boy’s cage can be removed one of the girls secures his hands behind his back by means of these cuffs… perhaps you’d allow me to demonstrate this with Adam…”

Ruth Barrow gave her approval and without further ado Coach Peters told Adam to turn around and put his hands behind his back. With the cuffs secured around Adam’s wrists, his arms were held firmly behind his back. Adam felt even more exposed than ever as he glanced in the direction of the big picture window of the living-room which looked out onto the road outside. Anyone walking by the house only had to look towards the window to see a sixteen year old boy naked, apart from a rather uncomfortable chastity cage, standing with his arms held behind his back.

The observer would see that the cage was about to be removed by the boy’s coach and if they were able to look closely they would see at the tip of the cage was a drop of clear viscous liquid. And if the observer were to wait a little longer they would see how the drop would slowly increase in size until it formed a short string that hung from the cage. The cage might twitch and jerk as the string of clear fluid became longer and longer until it swung like a pendulum from the end of the cage.

Adam knew then that his secret was out. Certainly Coach Peters was sufficiently experienced in the habits of teenage boys to know that he’d recently been masturbating. However she also concluded, to judge by the easy production of pre-ejaculate fluid, that Adam had failed to stimulate himself to full orgasm and concomitant ejaculation. Perhaps it was an opportunity for her to demonstrate how a boy is milked.

Johnny looked worried. He could guess what his son had been up to and blamed himself for not somehow making sure Adam had time to finish his wank, if indeed that’s what he’d been doing, before he came downstairs. Johnny wasn’t to know that it was Adam’s decision to finish masturbating later in the evening when he had more time to build himself up to a truly explosive climax, one that would see his spunk-jet fly over his head to land with a satisfying splat on the headboard of his bed. Of course, if Adam’s aim was off, he was just as likely to end up with a sticky mess all over his face!

Mrs Barrow was not at all pleased when she saw the string of goo: “What on earth… Adam!”

Coach Peters took charge of the situation once more: “If you’ll allow me, Mrs Barrow… Adam has clearly become over excited at the news he has been selected for the Alpha Squad. It’s perfectly natural for boys of Adam’s age to lose control of themselves. You’d be surprised at some of the reactions I’ve witnessed, Mrs Barrow. Some boys simply never grow up. It’s as if they need to be told what good boys they are and praised for every little achievement. That’s to say how some boys just need encouragement to push themselves that little bit further… indeed you could say that’s the basic ethos of the Alpha Squad… pushing boys a little bit harder by giving them lots of praise they so need at that time of their lives. It’s really quite touching to see boys like Adam when they realise how much they need to be strictly supervised to give their best performances…”

“But… that…” Ruth Barrow said, drawing attention to the ever lengthening string of pre-cum dangling from Adam’s chastity cage.

“Oh that’s nothing to worry about, Mr Barrow,” Coach Peters assured her, “Adam has simply got himself all worked up and over excited… just like a little boy, but although he’s past that age physically, mentally boys in their teens still behave like… well, just like little boys. What you are seeing is the manifestation of Adam’s excitement… and Adam has become so excited that I’m beginning to think he hasn’t been as naughty as I at first thought. You see boys usually only produce this amount of pre-ejaculate when they have been in strict chastity for some considerable time, so it rather looks as if Adam has been conserving his energies, rather than dissipating them through excessive masturbation…”

Johnny Barrow looked at his son. He wasn’t fooled by Coach Peter’s interpretation at all. He was positive Adam had been masturbating. The resultant string of pre-cum wasn’t due to Adam’s self-denial, it was due to his son’s ‘edging’, something he’d learnt to do himself… up until the time he met Ruth, that is.

Johnny realised it was his chance to speak up for his son: “This must mean that Adam can be trusted without resorting to the use of the chastity cage…”

Both his wife, Ruth and Coach Peters looked at him blankly. These expressions could mean only one thing… Johnny clearly hadn’t understood how things were. Adam had been put into chastity and he would remain in chastity and as long as he was in chastity he would wear his chastity cage. That was all there was to it.

“You don’t understand, Johnny,” Ruth said shaking her head, “Either that or you’re being wilfully obtuse. It is for Adam’s own good that he’s been put into chastity, it’s for no one else’s sake Johnny and the sooner you realise that, the better… Now, if you’ll let Coach Peters continue, I think we can all benefit from her experience with training boys like Adam.”

“Thank you Mrs Barrow. As I was about to say, given Adam’s over excited condition it would seem to be the perfect opportunity to show you both how we go about draining boys of their excess juices by the process we call ‘milking’. As you can see Adam has already worked himself up to such a state that he requires some expert attention. This of course would normally be dealt with at an Alpha Squad meeting, but in my opinion Adam needs to be attended to before then…”

Ruth had a suggestion to make: “Poppy Haydock lives just around the corner. I could call her mother and ask if she would allow Poppy to help with your demonstration.”

Much as he might fantasise about the ministrations of Poppy Haydock, the reality of having her here, being directed by Coach Peters, in the living-room in front of his parents, horrified Adam. He begged his mother not to call Mrs Haydock. He had been humiliated enough already, but mums always know best and Ruth Barrow went into the hall to the telephone. The call was made. Adam could hear his mother’s voice, but not clearly enough to understand what was said. The string of pre-cum grew longer and now dangled down to his knees.

Ruth Barrow came back into the room: “That’s settled… Poppy and her mother will be round shortly…”

Adam almost fainted.

Coach Peters was just running through a few minor details when the doorbell was heard. Johnny was sent to open the front door and show the guests into the living-room. Adam felt as if he was some sort of mannequin. While everyone introduced themselves to each other, no one appeared to see, let alone acknowledge, the nude boy standing in the middle of the room with his hands cuffed behind his back whilst displaying a chastity cage secured between his legs.

Coach Peters explained how there was a new recruit about to join the Alpha Squad and all eyes in the room were suddenly focussed on a blushing, hugely embarrassed Adam who was now even more ashamed of the string of pre-cum that he knew everyone could see swinging from the tip of his chastity cage, than his nudity.

Adam could see by the look in Poppy’s eyes that she had seen it all before. There was something almost dismissive in the way she carried out her evaluation of him. Coach Peters was right, Poppy and no doubt Vicky too, looked upon boys like Adam in a way that made them feel totally inadequate.

Poppy quickly assessed the situation and turned to Coach Peters. She spoke softly to Coach who nodded and said something in reply. Adam was unable to hear what was said and as his mother and Mrs Haydock were talking in a normal conversational volume it made it impossible for him to know what Poppy was saying. Johnny too strained to make out what was being said between Coach Peters and Poppy Haydock and in the end gave up.

Then Poppy turned and spoke: “Mrs Barrow, do you have a bowl I could use?”

“Certainly… Johnny, go and fetch one of the Tupperware bowls from the kitchen… they’re in the top cupboard to the left of the sink,” Ruth turned back to Poppy, “What sort of size, dear?”

“We normally use a medium pudding basin size,” Poppy replied, “but a small one will fine.”

“Johnny!” Ruth called to her husband who was already on his way to the kitchen, “Johnny! One of the smaller bowls!” she turned this time to Mrs Haydock, “He’ll bring something that’s quite unsuitable… too big or too small…”

Mrs Haydock pursed her lips. She understood. Men could never be relied upon to anything correctly.

Fortunately for Johnny the Tupperware bowl was deemed to be quite adequate by Poppy. She took the bowl and snapped off the lid.

“Come over here Adam,” Poppy ordered the now extremely nervous boy.

Adam did as he was told, but as he approached Poppy the string of pre-cum that up to now had been swinging freely between his legs, suddenly landed with a cold, wet slap on Adam’s left thigh.

Poppy sighed: “I’m sorry, Mrs Barrow, but have you got a facecloth I can use?”

Johnny was duly sent off once more to fetch the required item for Poppy who, as everyone could see, was in complete control of the situation. Ruth Barrow was impressed as was even Poppy’s mother who had never seen her daughter in her supervisory role at an Alpha Squad training session. Coach Peters, who had seen Poppy assisting Dr Shute on any number of occasions, smiled with genuine pride at the teenage girl’s maturity as she placed a small key in Poppy’s open palm.

Johnny returned with a flannel and gulped when he saw the little key in the hand of a young girl. It was as though he was witnessing control of his son’s sex-life, or at least Adam’s ability to masturbate, being handed carte blanche to Poppy. Adam’s teenage life was at that moment destined to be changed, as Johnny saw it, in much the same way as his own life was when he met Ruth.

Poppy sat on one of the armchairs that furnished the Barrow living-room and called Adam to stand closer. Adam, his hands still cuffed securely behind his back, flinched as Poppy wiped the pre-cum from his thigh. Poppy admonished Adam as if he was a little boy, telling him to hold still. Then Poppy, without another thought, simply took hold of Adam’s chastity cage while she used the tiny key to unlock the miniature padlock that held the cage secure.

Poppy carefully eased the cage from Adam’s penis. She was experienced enough to know that even if Adam’s new cage had only been locked in place for a short while, his penis would still be very sensitive to external stimulation. The copious amount of pre-cum that had dribbled from Adam’s penis was also another indicator that alerted Poppy to the danger of an accidental emission - this would be a very basic, unforgivable error for one so experienced as Poppy.

Poppy was not at all surprised to see Adam’s penis quickly engorge and the foreskin partially retract to uncover the meatus. Within a few short moments the penis had become fully erect. This was the usual reaction of a boy undergoing his first milking and Poppy barely registered the fact unlike Adam’s mother who was shocked and about to say something before being stopped by a sign from Coach Peters.

“Poppy is in charge now,” she whispered to Mrs Barrow, “She knows what to do…”

The ladies and Johnny watched as Poppy stood up directed Adam to stand behind and face the the armchair upon which she’d been sitting. The chair-back was almost waist-high to Adam who was then ordered by Poppy to lean forward and rest his head sideways on the top of the chair-back.

“Push your bottom out, Adam… place your feet apart… good boy… now I’m going to drain all that nasty boy-stuff that’s built up inside you… we’ll drain it off for you regularly so you’ll never have to play your silly little boy games ever again…” Poppy took the Tupperware bowl in her left hand, bent down and carefully reached between Adam’s parted legs. She then gently took hold of Adam’s engorged penis in her fingers and slowly, firmly pulled it back until it was pointing down at the plastic bowl.

Ruth saw how uncomfortable Poppy must be to be bent over as she was and decided to do something about it: “Johnny… go and fetch the pouffe for Poppy to sit on… can’t you see how uncomfortable she must be having to bend down like that?” She turned to Mrs Haydock, “Men… why do you have to tell them to do the simplest of things?”

Johnny brought the pouffe over from the other side of the room and positioned it for Poppy to sit down on.

“There… that’s much better,” Ruth Barrow said.

 

Poppy agreed that it was much more comfortable before turning back and asking: “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Adam?”

Without thinking Adam quickly gasped: “Yes, miss.” His penis was tingling and Adam knew that if his foreskin was further retracted and he felt the slightest stimulation on the zillions of nerve-endings that covered the underside of his penis and in particular the frenulum, he would have the glorious, intense orgasm he’d denied himself earlier.

Sadly for Adam that was not going to happen. Poppy had perfected her technique of milking boys without allowing them to enjoy an orgasm. It required complete control of the boy’s penis and this could only be achieved through thorough training and experience. To Poppy, milking a boy was just a routine task that had to be done. The only pleasure she derived from it was the satisfaction of a job well done.

Poppy knew all the tricks that boys would resort to, desperate for the release of an orgasm. She was more than a match for a boy who, aching to be stimulated, would try and move the head of his penis into her hand, hoping to feel Poppy’s fingers rubbing this super sensitive part of his anatomy. The boy would be frustrated however. Poppy was an expert and could extract every last drop of semen from the boy during the administration of a controlled ruined orgasm.

Adam was hardly aware of what was happening to him. He felt Poppy’s hand gripping the shaft of his penis at its lower end. In a series of small jerks that Poppy knew would edge Adam ever closer to ejaculation, she timed the throbbing of the rigid member, moving her hand clear and driving Adam almost insane.

“OH NO…. PLEASE!!!” Adam cried out when he realised what was happening. He could no longer control his emission. Poppy had expertly taken him to the point of no return WITHOUT THE EXQUISITE THRILL OF AN ORGASM!! 

Adam’s semen splashed into the Tupperware bowl as Poppy held his penis by the base, making sure every last drop was collected.

“Good boy, Adam… clever boy… oh, what a clever boy you are… there it is… let it all come out… good boy… there we are… all done, clever boy!” Poppy said as if praising a little boy.

Poppy snapped the lid onto the Tupperware bowl and picked up the facecloth. While she waited for Adam’s penis to soften she looked up and saw that tears of frustration were rolling from down Adam’s face. It was a perfectly natural reaction, one that Poppy was familiar with.

“There, there… it’s all over now, Adam,” Poppy said, comforting him, “I’ll just get you cleaned up in a moment and then we can get you locked back up in your chastity cage like a good boy…”

Coach Peters smiled and spoke to Adam’s mother: “That’s all there is to it… you need never have to worry about Adam playing with his penis and masturbating as long as there are girls like Poppy to keep him under control.”