Jason Masters

The Janitor

The Trials Of A Secondary School Janitor

Part 1
After-School Surprise

A janitor discovers three boys who need a little help, in more than one way.

I turned off the electric floor polisher to rest for a moment. Cleaning and polishing the school floors each day after-hours was hard work. Except for the larger buildings, it was one cleaner to a building and we worked from shortly after the school closed until well after midnight every evening. It paid well, but we worked hard for it.

I stretched my back and was about to turn on the polisher again when I heard a faint noise. I hesitated, and again I heard something. It seemed to be coming from a supply room. I pulled out my key and unlocked the door, throwing it wide open and quickly snapping the light switch on.

I stared. I didn't swear. Besides my not normally doing so, profanity would have been too weak to express my feelings. "Oh… my!" It was all I could think of to say for the moment.

Three boys lay on the floor of the supply room, facing the door and lying on their sides, one behind the other. Naked. Hog-tied. Gagged. Crotch ropes framing their small but obvious erections. Muffled groans were all the noise they could make and it was these which had attracted my attention. I sighed. "Not again," I murmured.

It was an occasional occurrence. The senior boys would tie up and gag a junior boy and leave him somewhere to, hopefully, be found and released by a cleaner. Not infrequently, the boy would be left in either underpants only or totally naked like these three. An erection was, perhaps understandably, the almost universal reaction of the tied boy, although the crotch ropes undoubtedly helped the reaction along, for these three boys. 'A long,' I thought, and inwardly groaned at my own pun.

I would probably have had to use some of the cleaning supplies from the room so these boys would have been found anyway, but it was an interruption in my routine. I could see that I was going to be working later than usual tonight.

A second glance caused me to realise something. Nearest boy: Blonde; Middle boy: Brunette; Last boy: Redhead. It seemed that their captors at least had a sense of humour. Then I looked again at the brunette and realised that his face was tear-stained.

I walked over to the bound trio and began to remove the knotted cloth gags. This done, I squatted down in front of the blonde and took a firm hold of his erection. "I can take care of this for you, if you want. I won't if you say no, but it will make you feel better." I waited.

"Yes, please," whispered the blonde boy. Without further ado, I began to give him what he so desperately wanted.

Once he had 'finished', I moved to the brunette. He was looking scared and his lower lip trembled, but he stayed quiet. I guessed he was trying to pretend to be brave.

"I think I'll leave you to last," I said. "You seem scared and I want you to see that there's nothing to be scared of." Then I moved to the redhead, who seemed to be too overcome with eagerness to speak but his vigorously nodding head gave me permission.

Before I started, I moved the other two boys so that they could watch. After all, I thought, why should I be the only one having fun?

The redhead was responsive to my ministrations and the results were both quick and definite. I reflected that I was making another mess I would have to clean up, but such was the cost of my enjoyment.

I again repositioned the boys and turned to the brunette. I gently stroked his hair before speaking. "You've seen that it doesn't hurt. In fact, it feels great." I looked at the other boys. "Did it feel good?"

"Oh, f###, yeah!" exclaimed the redhead, enthusiastically.

"Bloody fantastic!" The blonde followed up. "Do it, Sam! You'll love it!"

The brunette thus addressed looked up at me as my attention returned to him and huskily said, "yes" in a small voice. I took hold of his still-rigid little cocklet and began to work my magic on it.

After Sam had discovered the magic of my fingers, I began to untie the boys. I stopped once all three had their hands and arms free and allowed them to finish the job themselves.

"Where are your clothes?" I asked.

"F### if I know!" answered the blonde. "They took them with them when they left us here."

"If they've followed the usual routine, they've probably left your clothes sitting on top of your lockers," I replied. "They're in this building, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

The boys were almost free, so I decided it was time to leave and stood up from the squatting position I'd been in.

"I need to get back to work. Close the door behind you when you leave. If you have any more problems – can't find your clothes or something, come back and ask me for help."

As I was walking to the door, Sam said, "Thanks."

"No worries!" I replied and left. I switched the floor polisher back on and went back to work. Several minutes later, three naked boys emerged from the room, carrying the equipment with which they had been bound. The last boy closed the door as requested and, with half-shy-half-cheeky waves to me, they began their naked run to their lockers.

When I went to clean up the mess left by the boys' 'enjoyment', I discovered that they had kindly done that themselves. None of the cleaning equipment in the room seemed to have been touched so it's a mystery to me how they managed it.

The boys didn't come back and I heard no more about the matter so I can only presume that they found their clothes without too much trouble and left the building soon after.

Just one of the trials and the joys of being a secondary school janitor.

Part 2
The Janitor To The Rescue

The janitor discovers two horny youngsters gagged and tied together while wearing only speedos inside a locker. They get both types of rescue they need.
This story was inspired by a picture by corazon65.

It was a busy evening. A colleague and I were cleaning the gymnastics building at a secondary school, after-hours. We worked long hours but were paid well for it.

I have gained some experience with and insight into the juvenile mind by what I often find during my work, and I don't mean only in the rubbish I clean up (although that could possibly form a story on its own).

For example, I (and my colleagues) always check the locker room the first thing when we begin cleaning the gymnastics building. The reason we do this is the point of this story.

I was tempted this evening to leave the locker room check until later because there would probably be nothing there as usual, but realised that I would feel bad if it turned out that I'd extended someone's suffering by my procrastination, so I went and checked.

Sure enough, that evening I found what I knew would turn up sooner or later.

I went along the rows of lockers, opening any which were not locked and shining my pocket torch through the vents of those which were, when I hit pay-dirt.

I yanked open a locker and was automatically going to close it again when I realised what I was seeing, and yanked the door fully open again.

There they were. Two of the younger boys, in either very brief swimsuits or more likely underwear, tied and gagged with both rope and duct tape, to each other, face to face. I could see in their eyes a mixture of relief at being rescued and horrified embarrassment at being caught in such a position.

"Mh" was all the intelligent conversation I could manage for the moment, as I allowed my gaze to travel slowly down their bodies. I have always appreciated the young male form but rarely had the opportunity to enjoy it, so I indulged myself now that I had the chance.

It took me but a moment to notice the very prominent bulges, in a very recognisable shape, distending the fronts of their tight underpants. In their turn, it took the two captives only a moment to realise that I knew exactly and with certainty the current state of their 'willies' whereupon one boy (brown hair) began to blush deeply while the other (blonde) merely looked at me with increased interest.

I couldn't help chuckling at the one boy's obvious discomfiture, but I chose my words so as to hide the impression that I was laughing at him.

"Now, that's just mean! To put you in this position, giving you both nice stiffies, and then not to allow you to do anything with them? That really is mean!" Both boys stared at me, disbelieving. I could imagine their thoughts: An adult? Being this honest and open about sex? It was unheard of!

I lifted the two prisoners out of the locker and stood them in front of it, examining them without trying to conceal my admiration. But I was also examining their bondage to see exactly how they were secured.

The boys wriggled and squirmed as I unfolded my small pocket knife, so I performed a little 'role play' for their benefit as I squatted down and prepared to cut the duct tape around their legs.

"Witness, do you promise to cut the tape, the whole tape and nothing but the tape, so help you God?" I asked myself and immediately answered, "Yes, Your Honour, but only if these boys will stop wriggling around and keep still so that I don't accidentally cut them." The two captives magically ceased to wriggle and squirm and became quite still, allowing me to cut the tape without risk of injuring them.

After the tape was removed from their legs, I paused to gaze at the bulges distending their underpants, making no attempt to hide where or what I was looking at. Once again, 'Brown-hair' boy blushed while the blonde seemed unfazed. Different natures, but friends? If not, they probably would be after tonight.

"Well," I drawled, "it looks like you two need some relief, otherwise those little boners will be bothering you for the rest of the evening." Without another word, I pulled down 'Blondie's' underpants and watched as his little boner caught briefly on the waistband, then bounced stiffly back up once freed from its fabric cage. Still there was only a calm acceptance from him, although his companion in captivity seemed stunned.

I took my time, examining 'Blondie's' small butt and giving it a gentle pinch which caused him to flinch a little, more from surprise than from the vanishingly minor pain. "Beautiful," I commented before turning my attention to 'Brown-hair' while the blonde's face turned a lovely shade of pink for a minute, I presume from my comment.

I simply lowered 'Brown hair's' underpants without any preamble, making his cute little boner also bounce nicely. There was a sharp intake of breath and a protesting moan through the gag, but he didn't seem to me to be too scared or upset, or I would have ended the game right there and then.

Again, I took a moment to examine the gorgeous globes thus revealed and deliberately jiggled one while commenting, "perfectly lovely." 'Brown-hair' seemed astonished to be so admired. So much in fact, that he didn't even blush.

"Relax," I advised them as I arranged them so that their little boners just touched, glans to glans, and then took them both in one hand at the same time. They were just the right size to fit nicely in my closed fist with some room for the intended motions.

"Let me do all the work while you just concentrate on enjoying yourselves." I noticed the worried look of 'Brown-hair' boy and continued, "I've often done this to myself, or with a friend, when I was younger. Never did me any harm, and it won't to you, either. So just relax and enjoy it." I began making back-and-forth motions with the hand enclosing their lovely little erections.

I'm no expert in sex, but I'd learned a few techniques in my time. I watched the faces of both boys as I rubbed, careful to shift my grip slightly in response to their growing arousal to give more stimulation to the boy who was 'lagging', so that they remained mostly synchronised and would reach their peak at about the same time.

I didn't expect to be able to give the boys simultaneous orgasms so I was more than satisfied when one boy's moans of ecstasy were echoed almost immediately after by the other boy. It was 'Brown-hair' who came first, not that it mattered.

My hand was dry, which slightly surprised me as I had been 'producing' at that age, but as I knew, all boys develop at different rates. The boys had been satisfied though, which also satisfied me.

I untied them the rest of the way and once their hands were free, they quickly pulled their underpants back up although I noticed that 'Blondie' seemed to be in less of a hurry compared to his companion. I theorised that he was simply trying to conform to expectations by pulling them up at all.

They had clothes in their lockers so I just told them to leave as soon as they were dressed, then left to continue my work.

'Brown-hair' was one boy I didn't see again, which was normal, but 'Blondie' was… another story.

Part 3
A Second Dose Of Blonde

The janitor discovers the blonde boy from the previous story, once again bound and gagged and nearly naked inside a locker with a tent in his underpants. But the janitor soon realises that all is not as it first seemed.

It had been a week since the minor incident when I had rescued 'Brown-Hair' and 'Blondie' who I had found stripped to their underpants, tied together and gagged inside a gym locker with hard erections distending the front of their minimal clothing.

I had already mentally filed the matter under 'just another incident', although the memory of their lithe young bodies cooperating with my pumping hand on their raging hardons was very pleasant. I was about to be reminded of the event.

As usual, I did my locker-room check. As usual, most of the lockers were empty. Then I came to a particular locker and blinked in surprise at what I found.

It was rare that any of we janitors found a student trapped in a locker two weeks in a row, especially this far into the school term, but here was another victim of the hijinks which bordered on bullying which many boys got up to. Or so it seemed at first.

At first, all I noticed was that the boy was blonde, stripped to underpants, tied at wrists and ankles, mouth sealed with a strip of duct tape and showing a nice little tent at the front of his underpants. Then I realised something and looked closer.

"You again?" I asked as I recognised 'Blondie' from last week's incident. This was unusual. Exceptional, even. I had never had a 'repeat customer' before. I hesitated, and a suspicion entered my mind. I looked more carefully at exactly how he was tied.

Only a moment's observation told me what I wanted to know. The ropes around the boy's wrists and ankles had been fairly sloppily tied. I doubted that they would have held him for long if he'd truly struggled for more than a minute. The duct tape over his mouth also was a single strip and looked loose, hardly enough to hold closed the mouth of a healthy young boy if he truly struggled to open it.

"Oh." Was my enlightened remark. Followed by "Oh! Uh-huh." I lifted the boy out of the locker and stood him in front of me, now certain of exactly what he'd done.

"Aren't there easier ways to get someone to give you a good wanking than getting your friends to tie you up and put you in a locker?" I asked him. He looked startled. He'd never considered the possibility that I might see through his ruse.

I sighed. "All right, I'll do you this time, but don't go getting yourself tied up and locked in a locker every time you want to be wanked. It's not safe." Without any more preamble, I yanked his underpants down and started work on his little boner.

'Blondie' was very responsive to my attentions. It seemed like only a minute before he was jerking in orgasmic bliss. But I didn't stop. I held his arms together with one hand so that he couldn't squirm free of the ill-tied ropes while I continued to wank him, hard. A moan of mild, questioning protest came from the gagged boy.

"Since you seem so eager for a good wank, I've decided to give you the best wanking I can manage," I explained. "You can't get away, so you may as well just enjoy it, if you can. Remember, you asked for this. Practically begged and pleaded for it, in fact. Heck, for all I know, you did beg and plead with your friends to get them to tie you up like this!" The boy just moaned, although whether in denial, confirmation or sexual pleasure was unclear.

It was only a couple of minutes at most before his body jerked again as a second orgasm seized him in its irresistible grasp. Still, I continued to work on him.

Now, he was moaning in protest at the unending stimulation. Quite probably, he had never experienced multiple orgasms before. I knew that since he was pre-ejaculatory, he could have many orgasms in a row without harm, so I just continued to jerk him off without pause, although I did decide to explain why I was doing it.

"You think it's just a game? That being tied up and shut up in a locker for someone else to find you is just fun? Think! What if I'd been someone just looking for the opportunity to rape a kid like you? What do you think would have happened to you?" 'Blondie' fell silent. He looked at me, shocked for a minute. Then my continued actions at his groin caused him to gasp through his nose in pleasure.

"Worse, what if nobody had come looking for you, and you'd been tied up here for a whole weekend or longer? Two whole days without food or water and forced to wet and soil yourself because you can't get to the toilet? Would that have been fun?" 'Blondie' shook his head, no. I continued to work on his little boner throughout the conversation.

"I'm showing you a little, and only a little, of what it might have been like if a real rapist had found you like this. You're trapped and you can't get free. Even if you weren't gagged, the only person who might help you is on the other side of the building right now and probably couldn't hear you! Anyway, I happen to know that he'd be more likely to join in and help me than to help you, once he knew the circumstances." 'Blondie' glanced at me in shock, then his body began that rhythmic jerking once again as his third orgasm in a row dragged him into the land of bliss.

I finally stopped wanking the boy, then peeled the strip of duct tape off the boy's mouth. It came easily. As I'd guessed, he could have opened his mouth and yelled for help at any time.

I searched my pockets for a piece of paper and something to write with. "I'm sure you can wriggle out of those ropes, so you may as well do it now," I told the boy. "The game's over for tonight." Fortunately for me, I had one of the company's cards and a pencil. I placed the card against the locker and wrote my address and phone number. By the time I'd finished, the boy had managed to get his hands out of the ropes just as I'd guessed he could. I handed him the card.

"Call me. Don't go getting yourself tied up like that again. It's too dangerous. If you really want someone else to wank you, call me and we can arrange a time when I'm not working!" The boy read the card, including the front where my name was.

"Jason" he said. "My name's Gil." Short for Gilbert, I wondered? What a name to land on a beautiful boy. His parents must have been drunk when they named him.

"Hi Gil," I replied. "Remember what I said. I'm willing to play with you, but stop interrupting my work for these games. And it really is dangerous, too. I don't want you to get hurt." He looked at me and nodded, seriously.

I suddenly realised that Gil was still naked. He hadn't bothered to pull his underpants up, even though his hands were free. His limp little penis was as beautiful as it was erect. Thinking of his clothes caused my gaze to automatically travel to the top of the locker, the usual place where the victim's clothes could be found following one of these little 'episodes'. It was bare.

"Where are your clothes?" Gil looked a little alarmed for the first time. "They're not there?" he asked. "Nope. Nothing." Gil looked panicked.

"I didn't tell them what to do with my clothes, so they must have taken them with them!" he exclaimed. He was really worried.

"Don't you have any more clothes here, in a locker?" I asked, remembering the events last week. Gil shook his head. He looked really upset, like he was about to cry.

Inspiration hit me and I asked, "don't you have a locker in Building A?" Gil nodded. "But I don't have any clothes in it." A tear slid down one cheek. He was genuinely upset.

"But maybe your friends took your clothes there, and left them on top of your locker," I exclaimed. "It's worth a look." Gil suddenly looked hopeful. Then he blushed.

"I don't have anything to wear, except my underpants!" I knew what he meant. He could hardly go running around outside in just underpants, even only from one building to another. Someone could see him and then there would be trouble. I pulled out my mobile phone.

"Let's see if we can fix this," I said as I dialled. I knew who was working Building A that night.

"Greg?" I said as he answered, "we've got another. Could you check the lockers, please? If there's a boy's clothes there, could you bring them to the gym lockers? Yes, he's a bit upset but otherwise okay. Thanks."

Sure enough, Gil's clothes were on top of his locker in the other building. Greg brought them to us then left without asking any questions. Fortunately, Gil had the sense to pull his underpants back up before Greg arrived, or he probably would have asked some quite awkward questions.

After renewing my warning and my invitation, I left Gil to put his clothes on and leave while I went back to work. I was to see him again, but not in the context of my janitorial duties.

Boys. You gotta love 'em.

The Janitor saves a boy who is being severely bullied and befriends him.

I was spending a week on the day shift at the school, filling in for a colleague while he was ill. The school kept one janitor on duty during the day time for incidental cleaning, since with so many young students at least one minor spill or other mess per day was almost guaranteed to occur.

It was lunch time and I was about to eat my packed lunch in the store room which was also used as the day shift cleaner's office, when I heard shouts in the distance which were coming closer. Since uproar usually heralded another mess for me to clean up, I resignedly grabbed a broom and headed for the door to see what the fuss was about.

As I looked out on the hallway, a boy no older than twelve came running around the corner, an expression of pure terror on his face. He bolted past me seemingly without even noticing my presence, and it was quickly obvious to me why he was in such a mad hurry.

A second later, a group of about half a dozen older boys scurried around the corner and I caught several invectives which included the phrase "get the queer" as they too ran past me apparently without noticing my presence.

Since I'm bisexual, the slur directed toward the fleeing boy raised my ire somewhat. I could see the boy was entering the gym shower area, probably in an attempt to escape via the outer door to the sports field, but the mob chasing him were fast catching him up. I followed, almost absent-mindedly taking my broom with me.

By the time I reached the door to the gym shower, I could hear enough to know that the fugitive had been captured, and wasn't having a good time at all.

My first instinct was of course to rush in to the rescue, but a couple of considerations caused me to hold back, the main one being that if I stepped in too soon, the mob would be more likely to resume their attack later through feeling 'cheated' out of their prey.

Fighting my instincts, I waited until I judged by what I was hearing that the mob had secured their prisoner in some way and were about to become 'physical' with him. I couldn't allow the boy to be physically hurt and I wanted to limit any emotional harm, so I opened the door and entered the room, holding my broom for all the world as though I was about to sweep the floor.

Feigning mild surprise, I stopped just inside the door and stared at the boys who were crowded around their helpless victim. I couldn't see the boy but the poses of the older boys clearly told me where their victim was located, on the floor amongst them.

"What are you boys doing in here?" I challenged them. Every boy in the mob suddenly went quiet and stared uncertainly at me.

"You know you're supposed to be outside during lunch hour," I went on. "Go on. Get out. Or perhaps you'd prefer I take you to the principal?" The guilty-looking mob began to disperse in the direction of the outside door, allowing me to at last get a full view of their hapless prey.

The poor kid was scrunched up on the floor trying to protect himself against what would probably have been a vicious assault if I hadn't come along. He had been stripped of his school shirt and trousers which had then been used to tie his arms behind his back and his legs together. His underpants had been dragged down to below his knees where he couldn't easily reach them with his bound hands. I can only guess what would have happened had I not intervened. The boy's tear-stained face added to a pathetic and, to me, heart-wrenching sight.

I looked at the retreating mob, counting seven boys, not the six I'd estimated earlier, and allowed my disgust to show both on my face and in my voice as I spoke to them with what I hoped would be withering sarcasm while I pulled the boy's underpants back up.

"Oh, very brave! It takes seven of you big boys to assault one little boy! Your parents must be so proud of you! What do you do for an encore? Drown helpless kittens? Set puppies on fire so you can hear them squeal in pain?"

One of the retreating figures managed a half-defiant retort, "he's a fuckin' queer!"

"So what?" was my reply. "It's not as though that has to affect you at all. And if he's different, then he needs more protection, not less, especially since you're bigger than he is and so should be helping to protect him!" I picked up the shivering mess of boy and hugged him to me, turning toward the door to go back into the hallway.

"Think yourselves lucky I don't have the time to bother taking you to the Principal, but I'm certainly going to report this," was my final remark as I exited the room, dragging my broom awkwardly with one hand while carrying the small boy.

As I headed back to my storeroom sanctuary with the boy, anger welled up in my heart, not only toward this boy's tormentors but also toward the teachers. Where the heck were they? Not one teacher had shown up to help this boy in spite of the uproar caused by the chase. I was certain that, had he lashed out in self-defence at his tormentors, this boy would have been in trouble for 'fighting', yet it seemed that nobody cared if he was assaulted quite openly. Nobody apart from me seemed to give a shit about his welfare.

Once we were both safely ensconced within the protective walls of the store room, I seated the boy on the chair at the desk where I'd been intending to have my lunch then I began to work on the knots in his clothing which he had been tied with.

The boy stared at me with an expression of mingled surprise and doubt on his face as I untied him. I could guess what he was thinking. He was wondering why I was helping him, and I wondered if he'd been abused so often that he could hardly believe that I truly cared.

"My name's Jason," I informed him. "You?"

His short hesitation only went to confirm my surmise about the level and frequency of abuse he'd suffered.

"Donald." Quiet. Uncertain. Curious.

"So those boys think you're gay? I'm bisexual. I can get turned on by both men and women," I informed Donald, although I was careful to not yet add the minor detail that I could become turned on by a person somewhat too young to be realistically referred to by an exclusively adult adjective.

Donald was free at last and I helped him to dress himself properly, not because he needed the help but just to show him I cared. He accepted my help very readily.

Once Donald was dressed, I sat down on a box next to him and looked at him with what I hoped was a sympathetic gaze for a moment before I spoke, slowly and thoughtfully.

"That… must have been… absolutely terrifying."

I put out my arms and drew Donald to me, lifting him to sit on one of my knees, Father-Christmas style. He didn't resist at all as I put one arm around him and gently pulled his head against my chest.

A minute later, Donald's shoulders were shaking as he began sobbing into my chest.

I cuddled the crying boy, saying nothing as I waited for Donald to calm down. Tears were the only realistic treatment for what ailed him at that moment, so I allowed him as much as he needed.

After Donald had cried himself out, I gently placed him back on the chair then offered the box of tissues I always kept on the desk to the boy so he could wipe his face and blow his nose.

I openly stared at the boy as he cleaned himself up, noting that he was the stereotypical blonde and blue-eyed beauty, although personally and all other things being equal I always found dark hair and brown eyes more attractive. Still, I could see Donald's beauty and I certainly wasn't immune to it, although my erotic responses were at the moment totally overwhelmed by a more paternal instinct.

An involuntary pang of hunger caused me to think of my delayed lunch, which then led to me wondering about Donald's lunch too. Once he'd finished his clean-up, I decided to broach the subject.

"Did you have your lunch?"

Donald had been looking a little happier until I asked that question, then his face fell again and he shook his head.

"They took it."

"Stole it, you mean," I gently corrected him and Donald nodded.

I didn't even need to think about my next words.

"It's a good thing I packed plenty of lunch. You can share mine. It won't be a feast, but at least it will be better than nothing."

Judging by the astonished look on Donald's face, you'd think I'd just offered him the British Crown Jewels. I wondered how often Donald had gone hungry because of bullies stealing his lunch.

I opened my lunch box and pointed out which sandwiches were which, making sure that Donald selected two of them, overruling his objections that he could get by with only one. After we'd eaten our sandwiches, I divided my dessert apple in half and we shared it too. I'd brought two cans of soft drink since I intended one as a mid-afternoon refreshment, but now I gave one to Donald and drank the other myself.

As the lunch break continued I chatted with Donald, learning in the process that he believed he was 'probably' gay, and that although the bullying I'd rescued him from today was the worst he'd experienced, he'd long been a target for any bigot or bully in the school, even before he'd suspected his unconventional sexual orientation.

As per the usual, the teachers were worse than useless, generally siding with the bullies by using the usual excuse of 'you must have done something to annoy them' or the useless non-advice to 'try to be more friendly' and 'try to fit in.'

I sometimes wonder how supposedly intelligent people can fool themselves into believing that such nonsense 'advice' does anything but what it actually does – which is to exacerbate the harm done by the bullies.

I told Donald that he was welcome to come and visit me in the store room as long as I was on duty at the school. Of course we both knew that by 'visit me' I meant 'be protected from the bullies' and Donald's look of gratitude both told me he understood and was all the reward I needed.

We held discussions on many subjects which I need not mention here since they're largely irrelevant, but I can say that Donald was very well-read and I found him to be surprisingly knowledgeable on a wide variety of subjects.

Knowing boys of Donald's age well, I deliberately steered the conversation onto the subject of bondage not long before the end of the lunch hour.

"It's a pity you had to experience being tied up in that way," I mused, "with people who only intended to hurt you with it."

It was as though I could actually see the shutters going down behind Donald's eyes. He was immediately on his guard, which told me that he knew exactly what I was talking about. I wanted to be sure that he knew he wasn't alone before that lunch hour ended so I continued talking.

"Being tied up can be great fun, so long as you trust the person doing the tying. When you know that they'd never do anything to really hurt you and they're only going to tickle you or maybe cause you very slight pain so it's all in fun, and you know they'll let you go if you need it, being tied up can be fantastic fun."

I'd been half-pretending to do a stock check while I spoke and now I looked at Donald for a moment. I could see a blush starting in his cheeks so I decided to ask him a few personal questions.

"So, has anyone else ever tied you up as a game, not as bullying like today?"

Donald shook his head, looking embarrassed as though afraid of what I might ask next, so I deliberately decided to 'put him on the spot' with my next question.

"Have you ever played tying-up games with yourself?"

Donald didn't reply, but he didn't need to since the rapid reddening of his cheeks made the answer quite obvious. I looked directly at the embarrassed boy as I spoke to him, as gently as I could.

"That blush tells me the answer is 'yes'. There's no need to be ashamed of it. Many boys around your age enjoy a good tie-up game. In fact," I lowered my voice, "quite a few boys play some very… rude games either with themselves or each other while tied up."

Donald was now blushing so deep a shade of red that it was almost alarming to me, but I needed to finish what I had to say. If I left off now, I risked scaring Donald rather than reassuring him.

"And why shouldn't they? After all, it's your body. There's no good reason why you shouldn't decide how to use it, so long as it doesn't hurt anyone. You just need to find someone you can trust unless you want to stick to self-bondage."

I glanced at my watch.

"Lunch time is nearly over, but you're welcome back here at afternoon recess. I'll be here unless there's an emergency clean-up for me to do. We can talk some more about this if you're interested."

The bell began to ring for the end of lunch. As Donald stood up, obviously reluctant to return to the classroom, I gave him a quick, one-armed hug around his shoulders.

"Life may not be great for you, but right now, you have at least one friend in this school and that's me."

Donald gave me a grateful and longing look before leaving to go to his next class.

Once alone in the store room, I pulled out my mobile phone. The man I was substituting for was Daniel and I knew him well enough to believe that he'd need very little persuasion from me to continue offering sanctuary to Donald once he resumed his regular work and I had to leave.

I was correct in my assumption.

My next call was in person, to the Principal's office.

The short version is that I managed to at least light a candle under the Principal's butt, although not the fire I was trying for. An anti-bullying and pro-tolerance program was eventually begun at that school albeit rather late.

Donald visited me each recess and lunch time until I returned to my regular shift, and we had some interesting discussions about tying-up games. Before I had to return to my regular shift, Donald had gained enough confidence to ask me for a favour, but that's another story.

I also guarded Donald's lunch box each day so his food could no longer be stolen.

After I had to return to my regular after-hours shift, Daniel reported that Donald continued to visit him regularly, although I'm pretty sure that their conversations weren't nearly as interesting as had been the ones between Donald and myself. Daniel also kept Donald's lunch safe each day as I had done.

Not all stories have a happy ending, but this one ended at least reasonably. Perhaps some day I will tell the full tale of what came of the discussions between Donald and myself. For now, I will only say that Donald found what he needed, at least for a while.

More to follow?