THE ISLAND

BY TOMMY

Part 3

The large white courtyard was relatively cool, the early morning sun
having only just started to peep over the eastern wall.  The sixty or
seventy children facing the large wooden stage stood silently, hands by
their sides, fearful of drawing attention to themselves.

Dave clapped his hands and a guard walked up the steps to the stage, a
small naked hysterical girl clasped firmly under his right arm.  Her
high-pitched screams rang around the courtyard.

They'd decided to tell Lucy her fate only an hour ago, Mike having
pointed out that she'd probably make herself physically ill if she knew
earlier.

Dave shrugged.  It had to be done.  Yes, it seemed cruel, but the three
whippings every week did wonders for discipline on the island.

Besides, if the truth were known, it looked a lot worse than it actually
was.  All the children scheduled for a public thrashing were given a dose
of valium and barbiturates twenty minutes beforehand, the idea being that
the drugs kicked in just after the whipping and reduced the trauma.  A few
injections of anticoagulants and blood thinning agents given under the skin
immediately afterwards helped to reduce the bruising and this together with
frequent applications of the steroid cream would have their skin back to
normal in a week or so.

At the bottom of the steps two other children stood between burly
guards, their faces a picture of abject misery, all clothing removed and
hands secured in front of them.

Thomas was the tallest, a twelve year old dark haired italian boy who-
according to his last client - had spilt coffee over him.  Yes, an
accident, but the clients were paying a fortune, and such accidents were
not supposed to happen.

Next to him stood Dawn, a small ten year old, her light complexion and
freckles typical of young Scottish girls.  Dave saw her legs and arms
trembling.  Poor kid!  This would be her second thrashing and she'd only
been here a few months!  He looked at the piece of paper in his hand.  The
first time had been for refusing to stay still while being fucked. 
Frankly, Dave had been surprised that the client had complained.  After
all, the guy had paid handsomely to be the first to take the girl's
virginity and usually they liked it when the girl struggled.  However,
another client had also complained that the girl wriggled too much, so
clearly she needed another lesson!

Dave watched the guard carry the tiny six year old to the centre of the
stage above which ran a metal pipe.  Within seconds, the tall Arab had
attached a long thin chain hanging over the pipe to the soft leather straps
around the girl's wrists.  He pulled the end of the chain down forcing the
girl up on her tiptoes and clipped it onto a hook in the floor.

For a second Dave's eyes met hers and she screamed in terror.  "Please
sir...please...please don't.....I'll be good sir...please!"

Dave grimaced at her hysterical screams and waved at the guard.

"Douze!  Seulement douze!  Et n'exaggerez pas!"

The arab nodded and held up the thick leather belt for Dave to see.  The
boss had said to give her twelve, and not too hard.  Usual number for a
first offence.

Wider and shorter than a real belt, it looked similar to a long paddle
used in a strict American high school.  Dave saw that the man had chosen
the lighter of the two that they liked to use.  The intention being to
cause as much pain as possible without splitting the skin, they had found
over the years that such implements were perfect for the job.

The guard ran his finger down the sides of the wide leather paddle and
grunted with satisfaction.  No sharp edges that may accidentally cut the
skin.  Good!

He regarded the screaming youngster before him with complete
indifference.  They were just merchandise.  His grandparents had been
murdered by French soldiers in Algeria.  Now he earned a hundred times more
than anyone from his village and his family lived like royalty.  He had no
qualms he had about what he was about to do.

The first blow sent Lucy spinning, her screams faltering as her vocal
chords protested under the strain.  A wide red patch covered the top of her
buttocks.  The girl's body turned.  Her small thighs presented an
irresistible target and the hard leather landed across the back of her
legs.

As per their instructions, the guard aimed for the girl's buttocks and
thighs.  The rule was that the last five could be placed anywhere he liked.
But first he had to space out the blows, allowing a good twenty seconds
between each one.

Dave shuddered.  The guard had landed a hard slap right across the
girl's groin.  That would hurt!

It was over.  Another guard came up to carry the small girl down, her
screams having died down to delirious moans.  She was half conscious.

Mike examined her skin and gave her three injections in the places that
were already turning a dark blue colour before allowing the guard to take
her back to the dormitory.

Next on his list was Thomas.  The boy looked as though he was in a
trance and walked up the steps in front of the guard without a murmur. 
This all changed as his hands were dragged high over his head and he
started pleading for mercy, glancing desperately at the guard, then Mike
and Dave.  He remembered the first beating he'd had.  That had been twelves
lashes.  There was no way he could take more!

The guard just laughed and lifted the leather paddle for the boy to see.
Not the lighter model reserved for first offences, but a heavier, thicker
and wider leather.

The boy's screams were louder than the girl's.  The guard walked slowly
around the hysterical boy, taking his time.  He licked his lips.  These two
each had twenty four lashes coming to them and he was determined to enjoy
himself.

Mike grimaced as he saw where some of the last blows landed.  Poor boy
was going to have a very sore penis for the next week or so!

The injections given and the boy half dragged down to his dormitory, it
was the turn of the diminutive Dawn, tears flying all over the place as the
guard carried the naked girl up the stairs.

Dave turned to the guard closest to him.  At least this one spoke
English.

"I'm going.  Carry on!"

He left the courtyard, Asha a few yards behind.  He turned and grinned
as the little girl's screams reverberated around the complex.  Twenty four
lashes each to take!  He had no doubt where the sadistic guard would be
aiming the last five.  Dawn had such a plump little pussy!   

Ten minutes later, Mike followed his colleague, Philippe trotting at his
side, trying hard to make up for his cheekiness the day before.  He still
didn't believe that he'd won the wrestling match with Asha.  Perhaps he was
getting stronger.  He tried to stop himself grinning.  His master had
allowed him to spurt!  The look on Asha's face!  Shame he hadn't been able
to control himself like Asha could!  How could girls do that?  His cream
had gone all over her face!  So funny!

Dave was sitting in the bar, Asha on her knees, massaging her master's
feet.  Close by stood a young girl, naked apart from a small white apron at
the front and fastened behind her, silver tray in her hands, anxiously
waiting for one of the masters to order a drink and praying that she
wouldn't draw attention to herself.

"Three more sore bums to deal with!" announced Mike, clicking his
fingers at the terrified girl, who sped off to bring him his favourite
drink for the hour.

"Yeah, and three more clients on our books as well!"

Dave laughed and handed his friend some A4 sheets of paper still warm
from the printer.

Mike looked at them quickly.

"Fuck me!  They don't mess about, do they!"

"Nope.  But I guess we have Tariq to thank for that!"

"Too right.  Money for old rope this.  Still, about time we had more
visitors.  Some of the kids are going up to three weeks without a client!"

Dave nodded.  "Yeah, you're right.  We could take double the number.  I
know we said no more than three or four arrivals per day, but we could
easily manage more."

Mike thought about this for a few seconds.  It wasn't as if they needed
the money.  But....  He cleared his throat.  "So, let's do it!"

"We'll have to pay the guards more.  You know what they're like about
money."

Mike laughed.  Dave was such a skinflint.  The guards earned peanuts!

"Yeah, okay, and...so what?"

"So, we can have six clients arriving on the next boat.  Reckon it'll be
okay?"

Mike knew that Dave was joking.  But he was right.  Life had been pretty
boring for the past year.

"Oh, I think so."

He grinned and took the large caffe macchiato being proffered by the
young girl.  As was the rule in the bar, the silver tray also held a short
leather strap.  This had been Mike's idea.  The tipping system in reverse,
clients were encouraged to reward anything less than perfect service with
as many lashes as they thought appropriate.

Mike gazed at the little preteen girl as if seeing her for the first
time.  From the whiteness of the girl's bottom, he saw that the girl had
been lucky this morning.  Oh well, most of the clients didn't use the bar
till around midday.  He chuckled.  The girls in the restaurant wouldn't be
so lucky!

He leant back.

"You know Dave, I think I'm starting to forget what the girls are like."
He hugged Philippe hard and kissed his forehead.

Dave laughed and squeezed Asha's thigh.  "Yeah well, you can always
change, you know." He checked his watch and showed it to Mike.  "How about
a look-in at the rooms?"

"Yeah, okay."

They took their coffee and walked out and down to Mike's room.  Dave
pulled the sofa round so it was facing the large flat screen TV and waited
for Mike to sit down, remote control in his hand.  Asha and Philippe sat
between the men.

"Oh fuck, the boring one!" said Mike, as the camera zoomed in on the old
Greek guy, still in bed, his hand down the front of Antony's tight pyjamas.
They'd seen this one so many times.

The next camera displayed Beverly, the pigtailed schoolgirl sitting
stark naked astride the frustrated schoolmaster, her rhythmic movements
leaving nothing to the imagination as she slowly brought him to the point
of no return.

Dave laughed.  "His early morning fuck!" He shook his head.  "Clever
little bitch, isn't she!  Trying to keep him sleepy so he doesn't whack her
arse so much.  Knows all the tricks!"

Mike nodded, but didn't speak for a few seconds.

"Yeah, but he's paying to whack her arse.  Don't forget!"

It took a while for Dave to digest this.  He slumped in his seat.  Trust
good old Mike to remind him about who paid the bills!

"Yeah, you're right" he said quietly.  Mike was always right.  They had
to keep the clients happy so that they'd come back.  "Okay, so we'll give
him a new girl."

Dave suddenly clapped his hand.  "Tell you what!  Let's give him an
extra day and two new girls for the price of one.  I'll ask him later
today. That should keep him happy!"

Mike grinned and switched to the next room.

"Fuck me!  Look at that!  He doesn't waste time, does he!"

The retired scoutmaster was obviously making up for decades of lost
time. Flat on his back, he was supporting the girl's thighs either side of
his head, slurping noises echoing around the room as he explored her small
pussy with his tongue, the girl's mouth wrapped tightly over his cock. 
Dave laughed.  The girl still had her Brownies uniform on!  Kinky sod!

In the corner of the room, Kevin stood facing the wall, hands on head,
his brown shorts round his ankles.  From the red colour of the lad's
buttocks, they could see that the man had been busy.

In his room on the other side of the large complex, Demosthenes
Papelmetiou gently slid the boy's tight pyjama trousers down and removed
them.  He moaned with pleasure at the sight of Antony's smooth skin.  Such
beauty!  The boy's small penis was sticking up.  Demosthenes flicked it
lightly with his finger.  So hard!  Such cute little balls!

Antony opened his eyes and smiled at the old man.  This was his
favourite client.  Gentle and kind, not like some of the others.  He
shuddered at the memory of the last man he'd served.  That had been
horrible!

"So little one, you slept well?"

Antony nodded.  The man kissed his nose, then his lips.

Demosthenes felt himself getting hard albeit very slowly.  He sighed. 
Old age was exerting its toll on his body.

The boy grinned and Demosthenes moaned with delight as his semi-hard
cock felt the boy's small fingers touch it.

"You are so beautiful, little one!  You know how to make an old man
happy.  So very happy, so..."

He gasped.  Antony had turned and rolled over on top of him.  The boy
was so light!  A hot little mouth sought out his cock and he opened his
legs wider.  The room seemed to spin.  So very nice!  His back partially
propped up on pillows, and his head between the boy's thighs, he kissed the
small tight scrotum in front of his face, running his tongue over the boy's
stiff penis and inhaling the heady aroma.

He closed his eyes.  Three days.  Three days of ecstasy!


Greg Teal grunted with pleasure as he emptied himself into the young
girl, her tight pussy clamped firmly around his cock.  Oh fuck, that was
good!

He opened his eyes sleepily and looked up at Beverly, straddling him,
not daring to move till ordered.

This was his second visit and he'd make damned sure it wouldn't be his
last.  The sight of seeing her waiting for him the afternoon before had
almost made him come in his pants.  Sitting at the old fashioned school
bench that was clearly too small, her large bottom had been jutting out so
provocatively, the thin navy blue knickers leaving most of it completely
bare.  As like last time, her school uniform had been impeccably designed,
her stretchy white blouse stretched to breaking point over her larger than
average breasts.  What an evening!

He yawned and checked the time.  He really must learn to pace himself!
But now... so sleepy!

"I think I need another hour in bed" he announced, waving his hand to
indicate she should get off him.  "Get ready for PE and start on the
running machine!"

"Yes sir." Beverly slid herself off the man's exhausted cock and got off
the bed.  She looked at him nervously, doing her best to appear polite and
obedient.  Whatever it took to keep him from punishing her too hard.

She faltered, her tummy rumbling.  She was hungry.

"Please may I use the shower first?"

Greg opened one eye.  "Okay, but be quick.  I want a good ten miles run
by the time I arrive!"

He watched her go through the door, her buttocks still slightly pink
from the hard spanking he'd given her late the previous evening.  Hmm,
they'd be a lot pinker after a spell on the running machine!  An old worn
gymshoe was just the trick for encouraging her.  Must go easy though. 
Didn't want to mark her buttocks too much.  Had to save them for the tawse
and cane later.  Oh yes, he was looking forward to that!  Yeah, and must
remember to put that cream on her bum.  Great stuff!

Oh, and of course... yes, the pussy strap!  How could he have forgotten?
Now that really was going to be fun!

In a room further down the corridor, Simon waited nervously for the man
to finish in the bathroom.  Pushed inside just a few minutes before, he'd
been told to get into bed and wait.  His arms still ached from being
stretched above his head the evening before.  He felt a tear run down his
cheek.  The table had been excruciating!  Not just the pain, but not
knowing when and which part of his body!  He'd tried hard to ingratiate
himself with the guard and hadn't struggled when the guard fucked him,
anxious not to make him angry.  He'd heard stories whispered quietly from
the other kids about the dreaded table and how the guards sometimes made it
worse.

Please let the man change his mind!  He was a regular here and often
walked round the complex, picking new boys to try.  Simon sniffed.  The man
seemed quite gentle compared to the other clients, but then he'd only been
with him for one afternoon.

The door opened and Mr Philip Taylor came out of the bathroom whistling,
a towel wrapped round his waist.  A multi-millionnaire at the age of twenty
five, he'd decided to sell his business interests and now, ten years later,
his ambition was enjoyment, pure enjoyment.

He saw the boy in his bed and stopped, a huge grin on his face.

"Hello Simon."

The boy swallowed.  "Hello sir."

Mr Taylor let his towel slip to the floor, enjoying the look of fear in
the boy's eyes.  He was well aware of how well endowed he was and Simon was
the youngest boy he'd ever chosen.  He was curious.  Simon had caught his
eye a few days ago and had been fun to play with.  How well trained was he
really?

"Let's have a look at you then.  Here!"

He sat on the bed and pulled back the bedclothes, whistling softly at
the boy's naked body.  Beautiful!

Simon got up and stood obediently in front of the man.  Large hands ran
over his body, through his hair, over his face, then lower.  A finger
explored his small penis and a fingernail rang rings around his tight
scrotum, making him shiver.

"Hmm, pleased to see me, are you?"

Simon could already feel his penis getting harder.  Why did it do that
so often?  The clients seemed to like it - well most of them - but... The
man turned him round and he felt his bottom being stroked and lightly
kneaded.

"Bend over!"

Simon touched his toes and, as he knew it would, a finger pushed its way
between his buttocks and into his small bumhole.

His months of training and experience with clients stopped his sphincter
from automatically tightening, and the man's finger entered easily.  Then a
second finger.

"Hmm, a bit tight, but not as much as I thought" said Mr Taylor,
laughing at Simon's expression.  "Your Masters told me that you might be
difficult."

It took a while for Simon to digest this information.  His heart sank.
The man knew?

"Sorry sir."

The plaintive tone made the man laugh.

"Don't worry Simon.  I'm sure that you're a good boy.  Besides, I've
been told what to do."

He pulled his fingers out of the little boy's bottom and pointed to the
cupboard.

"They put some things in there for me to use.  Perhaps you can go and
bring some of them."

Simon walked to the cupboard and opened it.  His heart sank.

"Well, young Simon, bring them over here so I can see them!"

His legs felt like lead.  The cupboard was half full of the man's
clothes.  The other half held a variety of objects, some of which Simon
knew very well.

"Quickly!"

Knowing full well the consequences of hesitation in obeying an order,
Simon gathered some of the things and brought them to the man.

"Put them on the bed please, Simon, in a neat and tidy row!"

His hands felt cold.  The man had seemed so nice before.

Slowly and carefully he laid out the objects.  There were a variety of
straps, paddles, canes and strange things he didn't recognize.  His eyes
filled with tears.  The man was so different from the day before.  But...
why?

"Good boy." Mr Taylor ran his fingers down one of the canes.  He tried
not to laugh.

"Your masters seemed to think I should use these on your bottom.  What
do you think, Simon?"

Mr Taylor waited.  Simon intrigued him.

"P...Please sir..." Simon babbled.  "Please sir, sorry sir... I... I
mean... I'll be good and... please sir!"

The man laughed.

"Come on then Simon, get me ready!" He opened his legs wider.

The man's cock was only at half mast.  Mr Taylor was not one to waste
energy.

Simon did as he'd done a day before and clamped his mouth over the man's
huge cock, his tongue moving up and down.

He felt the mass of flesh expand in his mouth and was forced to allow it
to escape till he could barely keep the swollen glans between his teeth. 
Soon, he found it impossible to cope with even that.

Before his eyes, the man's cock attained dimensions that Simon had never
seen on any other client.  Mr Taylor ran his hand through the little boy's
hair and laughed.

"Okay Simon, on the table!"

Simon looked up, confused.  The table?  That table?  But.....  he'd try,
honestly he would!  Why the table?  Why..?

"Sir?"

"Over the table please, Simon.  Now!"

Fighting back tears, Simon skipped over to the small but heavy workbench
and jumped up onto it, his feet clear of the ground.  Please!  Why the
table?  This man had seemed so nice!  Why....

He felt the large belt pulled hard over his back and fastened to the
wide Velcro below.

"Please sir, you don't need to do that..please!  I...I won't wriggle
sir... I..."

He shut up, realizing what he'd done.  You never told a client what they
can or can't do!  Perhaps the man hadn't noticed.  Perhaps...

"Oh dear Simon.  What did you just say?"

Mr Taylor rubbed his hands and surveyed the young boy's pert bottom
sticking up over the edge of the bench.

"I..I..  sorry sir!"

"Hmm, should I call your masters do you think?"

"Oh please sir... please don't sir.  I'm sorry sir!"

Simon felt his heart beating faster.

"But it's clear that you deserve to be punished, isn't it.  Isn't it?"

"I...Yes sir."

"Hmm... so let's see."

Mr Taylor quickly secured the boy's legs to the metal posts with short
straps designed for the purpose just below the knees, keeping his legs wide
apart.  The middle bench was well padded but narrow, designed to support
the child from the waist up, leaving the hips jutting off the edge.

Simon swallowed nervously but didn't make a sound as his wrists were
also secured to posts at the top of the bench.  Some clients preferred the
boys to be on their back, some on their front.  Simon much preferred the
former.  Not being able to see what the client was going to do was
terrifying!

The man paused for a few seconds and then rotated a wheel at the side,
tilting the bench up and raising Simon's bottom higher.

"I'm sure you're used to this, aren't you Simon?"

"I...er..yes sir."

"How many times have you been fucked, Simon?"

"Sir?" Why was the man talking so much?  Usually the clients just...

"How many times?"

"I..I don't know sir."

"More than ten times?"

"Er..yes..I think so sir."

"Good."

Mr Taylor looked at the collection of punishment implements on the bed
and sighed.  Unlike most of the clients, he wasn't overly turned on by
spanking boys.  He saw it simply as a tool to ensure correct behaviour.

"I'm going to beat you now, Simon.  I know that you're used to being
beaten, so I don't expect you to complain or make a noise."

He picked up a thin cane.

"This reminds me of my schooldays" he said, laughing.

He tapped the boy's bottom with the cane and yawned.  What was the time?

"Okay Simon, how many strokes of the cane should I give you, and how
hard?"

Simon felt his head spin.  Clients never asked questions like this!"

"Well?"

"I..I..please sir, I don't know sir."

"Don't be silly!  A hundred?"

"N..no sir..please..  I mean..."

"Fifty?"

The tone of the man's voice told Simon that he had to answer quickly.

"Er..  about twelve sir."

Mr Taylor smiled and ran the cane down over the boy's sweaty buttocks.

"Okay Simon.  I'm going to give you twelve strokes now as punishment for
your cheek earlier and to remind you to behave.  Is that clear?"

He tapped the boy's bottom harder to make his point.

"Yes sir." The boy's voice was quiet.

Mr Taylor ran the cane up and down the boy's bottom a few more times and
checked that it wouldn't make contact with the boy's small scrotum, hanging
miserably between his thighs.

After the friendly way the man had spoken, Simon was surprised at the
loudness of the swishing noise and the loud crack as the cane bit into his
buttocks.

The pain took his breath away, but he had hardly chance to react as the
next strokes followed.

Mr Taylor wiped his brow and surveyed the lines criss-crossing the boy's
bottom.

"Well Simon, you're obviously used to this.  Good boy!  Now I just have
to put some of this nice stuff on that your masters gave me.  Got to get
rid of the marks, haven't we?"

Simon's knuckles were white and his mouth open as he fought to stop
himself from bursting into tears.  He'd had worse, much worse, but never so
fast.  His backside was a mass of pain!  He felt the man spreading cream
softly all over his sore bum.  Please don't let him start crying!  Mustn't!
Please...

"So what do you think, Simon?  Are you ready?"

The softly spoken words took time to sink in.

"Or should I use something else?"

Mr Taylor waited.  The boy's bottom was so inviting.

"Y...yes sir...please sir..I mean...yes I'm ready sir."

"Oh good, because if not, I'll have to give you another twelve and waste
even more time.  Now then..."

He looked at the clock.  He was hungry and needed his breakfast.

Simon flinched as he felt fingers entering him, pushing lubricant cream
deep inside his young anus.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of pain as his sphincter muscles
were stretched further than they'd ever been stretched before.  The man
obviously liked to take his time.

Breathing deeply and slowly, as he'd been taught during his training,
Simon tried to detach himself from what was happening to his rear end,
failing miserably.

The man's thrusts grew stronger.  Simon started to cry.  His bottom felt
as though it would split any second.

Mr Taylor laughed and pushed his cock in up to the hilt, making the boy
scream in terror.

The room span and he came, his orgasm lasting for what seemed like an
eternity.

Oh fuck, that was good!

Reality returned.  Bloody hell, he was so hungry!"

"Come on you" said Mr Taylor, releasing the shaking boy.  "All over."

He lifted Simon off the bench and pushed the sobbing boy in front of him
to the bathroom.

"I need a shower again."