After Dylan's first video, we had discussed with Richard whether he might be willing to have his young son participate in a future session. He had considered the question and answered that he might not be averse to the idea. They were an open-minded family and considered it might be a healthy experience for him, in the right surroundings. He said he would take it up with his wife, Monica.

A few days later, there was a phone call from him. He was a little apologetic and asked whether we would think about doing another session soon — within a few days. It seems that for one reason or another, they had seen a lot of interest in the subject from Casey, their little boy. They thought it might be a good idea to put the idea into action sooner rather than later, since interests could change so quickly at that age.

I told Dylan when he was at my apartment that evening that he was scheduled for another video session the next week. He said nothing, but made a face. Still, he knew that, mostly, it wasn't his decision. It was embarrassing for him to know that these videos would be public, or at least semi-public. But he had liked the first experience, I could see, more than he wanted to admit. And, he had hit it off well with Casey.

I made no assurances of whether or not there would be punishment involved; we did not raise that subject. Dylan was often whipped; but I did not, at the moment, have any plans to discipline him in that way in front of the young child. Still, a lot depended on his behavior.

"Your top ring will be off, as it was last time", I told him. He did not give any sign that he was pleased, but I knew that this would be good news for him. This was the constricting ring he normally had to wear at the head of his penis. Removing it would mean that he could have an orgasm in Richard's studio this time as well, as he had in his first performance with me there.

Dylan was quiet, and thoughtful the rest of the evening, said little. If he was looking forward to performing, he wouldn't have wanted me to know it. He had become used to edging and being regularly excited and not being allowed to finish — both because he was not permitted, and because if he did, he knew it would be painful and unsatisfying, due to the ring. The rings made him feel good and kept him excited, but he couldn't finish as long at the top ring was in place. The other rings did not interfere; actually, the one that was constantly in place around the base of the penis was what helped to keep him excited most of the time.

The shooting was set for Wednesday evening. I picked up Dylan at his junior high school when school let out, having arranged this with his parents, and I brought him to my place first so he could be got ready.

Normally there was some small talk, but he didn't want to talk about school, or friends, or the latest soccer practice, or any of that. He knew that I would expect him to get washed and scrubbed, that we had to select an outfit for him, and so on. I supervised him in the tub, to make sure he got to his ears, fingernails and all other openings. When he was done, he stepped out onto the bath mat; I dried him with a towel and combed out his long hair; then I inspected him. I could see that the flesh around the penis head was puffy and engorged, a sure sign that he had been giving a lot of attention to himself recently. But I said nothing about it; I expected that the results, in terms of the video, would be quite entertaining.

I could see he was expecting me to slip the tight little ring off his penis head then and there (this was the one to which the larger ring was fastened, so they were actually a pair; the larger one hung down from it, ordinarily, dangling underneath the penis, for purposes of attaching an ornament, or possibly a leash). He looked expectantly at me, but didn't dare ask about it.

"You can wait for that", I told him. "We'll take care of it at the studio."

When we got there, Richard and his wife Monica, a cheerful young woman in her thirties, greeted us pleasantly. Dylan was shy with her, as he usually was with new people, but responded to her greeting politely. I could see her looking with some interest at the skimpy jean shorts I had had the boy wear. They were of the kind that rode up in the back to show a little too much of the butt, and Dylan had to constantly work at tugging them down when we were out in public.

I asked Monica whether she was going to sit in at the session. She shrugged.

"I don't think I would be able to. You know, I love the idea. Casey is so pumped about being able to be with you guys when you're filming. But he doesn't know what he is doing, I'm afraid. I hope you don't expect too much from him."

"Of course not," I assured her.

"And for myself …" she hesitated, "I guess I just think it would be too disturbing to have to watch, if you know what I mean. Being his mom and with all those protective instincts." She smiled.

"Yes, for sure."

"I will watch the video, though. Definitely. I'm sure it will be fun."

We proceeded into the large room where Richard had set up a fairly respectable studio, in the living room of the large detached suburban house they lived in. Dylan had become quiet and nervous again. I led him to the side of the room; there was a small ladder there that was used, I guess, for adjusting the lights. I had Dylan go a couple of steps up on it and turn to face me. His back was to Richard, but I think Richard also knew what we needed to do with Dylan before the performance; I had explained the principle of the restraints, and Dylan's discipline, to Richard the first time I had brought the boy to the studio.

I unfastened Dylan and took hold of his swollen organ. He bit his lips. I slid the constricting ring off with a little bit of difficulty, since the boy was so excited, but there was enough slipperiness to lubricate the process, and that helped. It took less than a minute. I held up the ring set and showed it to him. I rubbed it between my fingers; it was warm from the boy, and from being in his pants, and also a little wet from him, and it smelled of boy. Looking at me handling the ring set, Dylan closed his eyes and strained outward, his organ still pointing straight at me. He was so aroused that his zipper went up only with difficulty. I put the two rings away in my pocket.

Richard called out at the door of the studio and his little boy abruptly came running into the room, with his mop of long blond bangs and a big smile. He was holding a Lego construction set. He ran up to Dylan immediately, where he stood on the ladder, and had to show it to him before even being introduced. It was a Lego spaceship, with a steering wheel and a control panel and a pilot seated at the controls. He flashed it through the air and made a whirring noise with his mouth.

"Wow!" Dylan enthused. "Did you build that?" I smiled. I could see that it would work out well between the two of them.

The small child nodded enthusiastically, then became abruptly shy. "What's your name?" he asked, finally.

"Dylan." Dylan got off the ladder and then went down on his knees to be more on his level. "What's yours?"

"Casey. I'm Casey. But you were here before, weren't you?"

"That's right. I was. And I saw you."

"I saw you too. And I saw you in a video."

"Oh! Did your dad show you the video?"

He nodded.

"Did you watch all of it?"

"I think so."

"Did you like it?"

He nodded. "But you were all nakey."

"I know. I made that video when I was here that time."

"And you had … you had …" Casey struggled to explain.

"Had what?"

"You had these thingies all on your peepee."

Dylan laughed.

Casey persisted. "Why do you have them?"

"Just because they look nice. And they make me feel good."

"You ALWAYS have them?"

"Always."

"You have them now?"

"Yes." Casey stared at the front of Dylan's skimpy shorts, as if he wanted to see him pull them down right there.

"Are you going to make another video like that?"

"Probably."

"But then you'll have to get nakey again."

"I know."

"And your mommy lets you go like that?"

"She does."

Casey looked a little bit disapproving but very interested. "And you had a man's peepee in your mouth. THAT man's." He pointed at me, almost accusingly. He didn't remember me as much as he did Dylan, I guessed, because my face wasn't shown as much.

"I did. You're right."

"And then after…." he looked around the room and finally pointed to a spot on the wood floor, near the coffee table. "And after you made a puddle. Right THERE!"

"You're right. I did."

"It all came out of your peepee."

Dylan nodded.

There was a pause. "Did you think," Dylan asked, "did you think your dad was going to yell at me for making a puddle?"

"No. Because it wasn't such a big puddle. But then he said that it was nice for you to do that."

"He said that to you?"

"Uh-huh. When we were watching." Then, more sharply: "Are you going to do that again?"

"Maybe."

Casey thought about this and then turned to his dad. "Daddy", he pointed to me, "is he doing a video again today?"

"I think so."

Casey considered again. "He's going to be nakey again?"

"Probably."

"But last time you told me I had to go out. Am I allowed to stay and watch?"

"You're allowed, on one condition."

"Goody." He squirmed with pleasure. "Tell me what condition."

"The condition is, no shirt and no pants on you." He tugged at the two objects in question, in turn, to demonstrate the point.

"Now? You want me to do it now?" He was all ready to start pulling them off.

"Not yet. We're not ready yet. I'll call you in here when we're ready. You go back to your spaceship for a while."

"Ok. But don't forget."

"I won't."

"I will remind him, if he forgets," Dylan added.

He spoke to his dad, "Is he going to make another puddle today?"

"Maybe. We'll see." And he ran back down the hall, presumably to his room.

There was a bit of discussion between us at that point, while Richard was getting the cameras and lights set up, and we all agreed that it wouldn't do any harm for Casey to sit in, and that it would be fun for all of us.

"You're going to have him on camera?" I asked Richard. "He might just want to watch, if it's all new to him."

"I'm sure he would love it. He's been talking about that video for the last week. The puddle really impressed him. He asked what happened to it and he checked the floor over there and I told him we cleaned it up."

Richard started the cameras he was planning to use, turned on and arranged the lights, adjusted settings and focus. Dylan lay on his tummy, waiting. Eventually Richard called out for Casey to come back into the room. He came running back, put the Lego spaceship down on the floor, and snuggled close to his dad.

"Why are there lights on like that?"

"To get good pictures for the camera. Shush, don't ask questions all the time."

Dylan stood up and began to undress for us: first his t-shirt.

"Is he getting nakey?"

"Soon. And what about you? Remember the condition?" He was wearing a dark t-shirt with cartoon characters on the front, possibly from Paw Patrol or whatever equivalent the kids were watching these days, along with a pair of baggy navy-colored kids' sweatpants.

He quickly took off his top, pulled his pants down and stepped out of them. He still was wearing little white socks, which he left on (I guess because they weren't part of the condition.) In addition to the socks, he was wearing only a pair of blue-and-white kids' undies, with more cartoon characters on the front and blue-and-yellow piping around the waist, legs, and fly.

Dylan was watching all of this. He stood there himself, not quite entirely the center of attention any more, since we were all watching both him and Casey. He came over to the couch, took Casey by the hand, and led him away from his dad and into the circle of camera lights. Casey blinked and looked around; it was bright for him.

They just stayed there for a moment while Casey adjusted to the lights. They looked at each other, both of them suddenly serious. Dylan was still holding Casey's hand; he brought it close to his face, gave it a little kiss, and then affectionately squeezed the child's nose. It made Casey laugh.

Dylan still had his little jean shorts on. He stood up, unfastened and unzippered them at the front, while Casey watched him, and then let them fall around his ankles and stepped out of them. Underneath he was wearing a white cotton string that, of course, only covered him in front. I realized that it was probably the same posing strap he had worn at the first punishment session I had observed, at Malcolm's apartment. And, because of the light material, it showed more of the outline of the rings and straps that were underneath than most of his posing straps did. They were especially visible because of the lights.

Casey was staring at the front of Dylan's string with curiosity. He was about to ask one of his interminable string of questions, but Dylan shushed him. "You just sit there for a while." He set the boy down on his bum, close to him. Then he knelt, looked into the camera briefly, and began to wriggle himself into a state of excitement. Without the top ring, I knew, he could generally bring himself either very close to orgasm, or all the way, without touching himself. The other ring, the one around the base of his organ, helped a lot.

Casey sat and watched, his eyes on the front of Dylan's string where it was bulging outward and tensing, and on Dylan's thigh and bottom muscles, which tightened and pushed in and out in a regular motion.

Dylan gave the boy a smile. He took him by the hand again and got him to stand up, pulled him close and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then he murmured, "You kiss me too," and the boy did.

There was a little circular wet patch forming on the cotton at the front of Dylan's string, and I knew Casey could see it; it was right at eye level for him. I remembered again Malcolm's comment on the string: that was the problem with cotton; it showed the wetness. It wouldn't have showed on a leather string, or a vinyl one. A problem, one might say, from the perspective of the wearer, not the viewer, as Malcolm had observed.

Casey looked at his dad to see if this was ok, and then pointed to Dylan, "He's wet there!" the child announced.

Dylan took hold of the waistband of Casey's underpants and looked across at the boy's dad. "Can I?" he asked. Richard nodded.

"Socks first. Lift your foot." Dylan pulled the child's socks off, one after the other. Then he drew the little underpants down to the child's ankles. Casey giggled with excitement. "I'm nakey but you're not!"

Dylan pointed at the child's small sex organs, a little button peepee and not much else. "What do you call that?"

Casey looked down at himself. "That? It's my dinky toy," he announced, and giggled again. It was amusing to realize that all this was being recorded on video.

The little naked child asked the question that was on his mind. He pointed to the front of Dylan's string. "Why are you wet there?"

Dylan shrugged. "Because when I wiggle like that I get nice feelings and then I start to get wet."

Casey thought about this. "Are you going to make a puddle?"

"Maybe soon."

He took the boy's small pudgy hand and guided it in between the child's legs. "If you touch your dinky toy, sometimes it will make you feel good." Casey explored himself tentatively with his little hand.

"And will I get wet there too?"

"You might."

"I don't want to make pee."

"You don't have to. You can just touch your peepee. Move your hand around. Like this."

He guided him in an up-and-down motion and Casey continued it for a bit, on his own. Then he gave a giggle. "I feel tickly."

"That's good. Then you should keep going."

Casey did. I watched the little wet circle spread on the front of Dylan's string as he wriggled unconsciously, watching as the small child learned to play with himself. Dylan was very excited too. After a minute or two, Casey took his hand away and gave another giggle. He had the beginnings of a small but noticeable erection.

"See ? It feels good now, doesn't it?"

Casey nodded and tugged at himself some more.

Dylan was on his knees close to the child, leaning back now so his thighs were resting on his heels. The front of the string pointed straight up; it was easy to see how wet he was now.

Casey clutched at himself in front and pushed with the muscles around his bum. He tugged at his peepee and waggled it.

Dylan, who couldn't stand it any more, abruptly pulled down his string and also began to tug at himself. Casey watched him with fascination. Dylan gave a little moan. It looked like he might finish at any moment. The experience with the small child was making him very aroused.

Of course, when he pulled down the string, we could all see his restraints. We had all seen them before, of course, even Casey, who saw them in the video: the strap and bangle and metal ring around his penis and scrotum, the second metal ring, held in place by the first, which encircled the base of his organ. Even without the final two rings, the ones I had spared him from, it would have been a shock, for people who hadn't seen him naked before.

Casey's eyes widened. He wanted to look at what Dylan had there. But, strangely, the first thing he did, on his own initiative, was to tug at Dylan's string, which was down around his thighs, until it came off over his ankles. Dylan had to lift one leg and then the other to allow the boy to do this. Amused by the child's interest, he regained a little bit of control and sat up. He was still working at himself with one hand and Casey was watching him.

"Now you're all nakey again," he announced. "Like last time." Casey held up Dylan's string in his hands and examined it carefully, as if it had magic powers. He felt the inside where Dylan had made it wet and then rubbed his fingers, which came away slippery from what Dylan had been doing in the string. Then Casey tugged a little at his peepee, in response to Dylan's own pulling at himself.

Aware of the camera, Dylan still kept his fingers just around the base of his organ, so it stood up very straight. It was pink and firm and wet around the tip and it quivered a little as Dylan wriggled. Casey stood there, very close to him, leaning in closer still to get a better look, almost close enough to have pre-cum dripped onto him. He was very impressed, and especially by the rings and straps.

Casey put his head in close and examined. Since Dylan had been in a state of uninterrupted excitement for what must have been several days now, the fleshy area around the penis head was puffy and engorged.

Casey would not have known the difference since he had nothing to compare it to. All the same, he could see that it must have been painful because of the tight ring around the bottom of Dylan's thing. The child flopped over on his tummy, leaned in again. He pointed to the ring. "Does that hurt?"

Dylan shook his head, no.

"Does it feel nice?"

"Sometimes."

"Like now?"

"Like now."

"Why do you have to have that?"

"You already asked me that. It's because someone told me I need to."

"Like that man?" He pointed to me.

"Uh-huh."

"But he's not your dad. Is he like your supervisor?"

"Kind of."

"Is that why you have to lick his peepee?"

"I guess so." Dylan was showing extraordinary patience, considering his state of arousal.

"But you have to stop asking questions now. They're busy making a video."

"Of me too?" Casey turned and beamed into the camera.

"Of you too."

I could see that Richard was aiming for close-ups of Casey's face and Dylan's excited organ. As the small child leaned closer, and we watched, a small bead of pre-cum formed at Dylan's tip, lingered there for a moment, and then dropped down in a dangly thread onto his tummy. It made Casey giggle. "THAT'S what you're getting wet from," he announced, triumphantly.

He reached toward the glistening spot on Dylan's smooth skin, just below his bellybutton.

"Can I?" he asked.

Dylan nodded. Casey poked a finger on the spot, and then his thumb. He picked them up and rubbed them together, feeling the slipperiness. Then he looked back expectantly at the source of this soft silkiness, which was the boy's excited thing. "Is there more?" he asked.

As he watched, Dylan deliberately forced another little crystal bead to form. Casey watched with delight. After a moment, it dangled down to join the first. A third long thread, with the small round bead at its tip, dropped down to join the other two. Casey explored the growing stickiness with his fingers.

There was just one problem. Casey was still lying on his tummy and that was not how his dad wanted him for the video. "Sweetie", he murmured, so the child could hear him.

"Huh?" He looked around at his dad.

"You have to sit up now, sweetie. We can't see your dinky toy when you're lying on your tummy."

"Ohhh," the boy did as he was told. He sat up, turned to face the camera, and looked down in between his own legs. "NOW you can!" And he gave a big fake smile for the camera.

Indeed we could see him. He was tiny but delightful.

Dylan was dripping steadily now with his excitement, like a faucet. He was absorbed in himself almost to the exclusion of the child. His fingers glistened with his own slipperiness and whichever way he turned there seemed to be more of it. I knew it was the consequence of so much playing with himself over the past few days, in his anticipation of this shoot.

He went on his knees so it wouldn't all end up on his tummy. But then he had to catch it with his hands so it wouldn't drip onto the floor. There were already a couple of little wet patches from him visible on the wood. He was very excited but he was also keeping himself from finishing, stopping every so often and then continuing. As he went on, he became more swollen and engorged; his penis strained outward against its straps and rings.

Dylan turned his attention back to Casey, who in the meantime had begun poking at himself and exploring between his own legs once again. He took Casey by the hand, leading him around so he was facing him. He turned to the camera to make sure they were both still visible. "You can see both of us?" he asked. Richard nodded to him.

"Put your hand on me there", Dylan said gently to the child. "Not on yourself now. On me."

Casey extended his hand and touched the tip of the boy's organ with it, delicately. "You can rub there a little bit."

Casey did as he was told. "Just slow. Not too fast." We could see that Casey's hand was starting to get slippery, with the same slipperiness he had got from Dylan's tummy earlier, and from the inside of the string. Except now, he was much closer to the source.

He held his hand up and looked at how the fingertips glistened in the camera lights, and he giggled at the wetness, and then continued feeling, slowly, as he had been told.

Meanwhile, Dylan, who was not depending on the inexpert caresses of the child, was still working at himself diligently, with his hand encircling the base of his naked penis. The two of them made a very charming scene. I looked across at Richard and I could see that he had an indulgent smile and was enjoying it.

It went on for a long time, very quietly, because they both liked it. Casey spread his little fingers and got them sticky, then rubbed the pre-cum around the top and sides of Dylan's thingie, until the older boy moaned and took hold of his small hand to get him to stop. Sometimes he held the boy's hand under his penis, so that any long sticky strings that dropped from him would fall directly on the child's fingers. Then he would put the child's hand back on himself, getting still more slippery from the added wetness on the child. Casey would rub him a little as he had been shown, ever so gently, circling around the tip.

After a while, Dylan would take the soft little hand and bring it in between the younger boy's legs and Casey would work at himself, imitating what he saw Dylan doing. With the new slipperiness on his hand, his probings had more effect. His little peepee slid easily against his own fingers. Once or twice he bit his lips also as the feelings in him began to emerge.

In the meantime, Dylan would be continuing to caress himself and wriggle, very aware of the camera and his imminent orgasm. He would stop when he got close, and then reach for Casey's hand again, leading it away and directing it toward Dylan's own swollen sex.

Casey was entirely fascinated with the operation, and with all the stickiness that was dripping onto him. But he continued with his slow gentle circling. It was amazing that such a young child could have such patience with the process.

Dylan became bolder. A little dazed, no doubt, with his own feelings, he reached between Casey's legs, put the young child's hand to the side, and gently grasped Casey's little thingie himself, rubbing a little, more expertly than the boy himself had been doing. The results showed at once. Again Casey bit his lips and there was a little gasp. Casey's eyes widened with the feelings he was getting. The muscles around his thighs all strained outward and he caught his breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Dylan was still touching him as his muscles let go and he gave a long breath. It was as close to an orgasm as he was going to get, at his age.

Now it was Dylan's turn to giggle. He rumpled Casey's mop of hair, and murmured to him, softly: "Good for you. Good job." The small child, from his big grin, certainly knew why he was getting complimented. But Dylan's voice was tight. I could see that the regular little contractions of his own penis were becoming more frequent as he pushed outward, though I don't think he was aware of it. Watching Casey's little burst of joy had driven him to distraction and was certainly going to put him over the edge, I knew. I wasn't sure how it was going to end put I could make a pretty good guess.

Dylan put Casey's hand on himself and guided it carefully. He drew the child around to make sure he was facing him again and that the camera had a good view. Dylan was on his knees, his bottom muscles pushing tightly. He let Casey's hand go over him freely, without trying to get him to stop. Dylan's eyes closed, then all of his muscles tightened, he gave a little moan, and then, abruptly, his wetness started to spread across Casey's bare tummy and drip down.

Casey was amazed. He got a big squirt before he even realized it, and then another, and another. He stood very still until it stopped. The final spurts actually dropped on the floor between them. There wasn't so much on the floor, since most of Dylan's ejaculation had ended up on him, but Casey had got to see, after all, the puddle that he was so interested in. Dylan sank back on one arm, drew the little boy close to him, and gave him a big kiss on the forehead. "Such a sweetie, you are," he murmured.

Casey was pleased. He ran back — and off-camera for the first time, out of the range of the lights, to show off to his dad. He stood by Richard and looked down at his own wet tummy. You could see him thinking deeply about what he could tell his dad to explain this new experience, but he could also see that he didn't have to explain, and that his dad was pleased.

"Yes, honey, you did good. Good job," his dad said, and gave him a kiss. "Did you like doing that?"

Casey nodded emphatically. "It felt so nice and I got all tickly." He looked down again at his tummy. "But he made his puddle on me. Right there."

"I told you it was nice to do that."

"I know. But are both of us going to be in the video?"

"Yes you are, sweetie. And the puddle too."

Casey ran back to Dylan, who had sat up and opened his arms for him. The camera was still on and Richard caught the final big loving embrace between the two of them, Dylan swinging him around in his arms and holding him upside down while Casey giggled, both of them naked and the young child still dripping with the older boy's sticky cream.

When the camera lights went off, Dylan stood up and slipped his string on, and then his shorts and t-shirt. He picked up Casey, who was still naked, and carried him back to his dad. Dylan found the cartoon underpants and pulled them back up on the child. Richard handed him the Paw Patrol shirt and the child was about to put it on, but then remembered there was a little question about the wetness on his tummy. He looked down at himself uncertainly.

Richard, in the meantime, was interested in having Monica come to the studio, so he could let her know we were done and that everything had gone well. He called out down the hall. She entered with a big smile just as Richard was going to get a paper napkin to wipe the child. I stopped him. "No, that's Dylan's mess," I said. Dylan nodded; he understood. In the meantime, Casey reached his arms out for his mom. She gave him a little hug and kissed his hair. "Was that fun?" she asked.

He nodded, then pointed down at myself, "Looka my tummy!"

I took Dylan's hand and drew him down onto on his knees. While the parents watched, Dylan kissed the child's tummy dry, licking off the wetness he had made there. While he did, Casey examined Dylan's long blond hair with interest. At one point he giggled, "It tickles when you do that," he announced.

"Is it okay that I squirted you?" Dylan asked him.

Casey nodded. "Dad told me it was nice."

Suddenly he threw his arms around Dylan. "Can you come next time and squirt me again? That was so fun!"

"Sure, if your dad lets you. There's other things we can do too."

"Can you take me for ice cream?"

"If your dad lets. And your mom."

He turned to Monica, who asked the child, "So what do you think about Dylan's peepee?"

"It's really nice. And what he can do with it."

"And he showed you what you can do with yours too, didn't he?", Richard added.

Casey agreed. "It was so fun!"

Richard rumpled Dylan's hair. "You were really nice with him. It was adorable to watch."

"I didn't rush him too much, did I?"

"No, he was really ready for it. Besides, you were so excited yourself, we could see that. I would have been too. I'm sure that was his first orgasm." He gave the small child another kiss on the nose.

Casey clutched at his dad. "Daddy, will I be in the video?"

"You already were, honey."

"When can we watch it?"

"Soon, soon."

I intervened here. "He is sweet, though. You wouldn't mind if we did more videos with him?"

"Just let us know when. I'm sure all I'll be hearing about for the next while is puddles and peepees."

Casey was bundled off with Monica. It was getting late for him, time for his milk and getting ready for his bath. Before leaving, he got kisses on the cheek from his dad, and from Dylan, and even from me.

Richard busied himself rearranging the lights and he began also to review the footage on the camera. "I should have something for you to view within a week or so," he said.

I wasn't quite done with Dylan, though, either. I took him by the arm and led him to the ladder in the corner of the room, where I had worked with him earlier. He went up to the top step and turned to face me, knowing what was next. I took the rings from my pocket. "Undo your pants," I told him.

He did as he was told. I was about to take hold of him, but, looking at his face, I could see that he was struggling with something. I waited. Finally he began a question. I could see that it took all of his courage.

"Can I … Can I …"

"Can you what?"

"Could I just maybe go without it now? Just until tomorrow?"

I looked at him darkly. I think he already knew what the answer was, but, having started, he continued anyway, digging the hole deeper.

"Just … like … at school. I could concentrate better. And there's a soccer practice tomorrow, and I could run a lot better. And you could come by tomorrow after school and put it on again. It would be just for the day."

I said nothing, just took hold of him quietly and slipped the ring around his penis head, fitting it in the small natural groove there and aligning it so the snap holding the lower ring was at the bottom. The larger ring clanked a little as it smacked against the other metal rings.

Dylan looked down at himself. He had his answer. He looked up at me again, then down at himself. His penis, which had been more or less flaccid, was already standing up again and pointing straight out at me.

"Do up your pants," I told him. And he did.

On the way home I stopped to buy him a chocolate chip cookie, because, in spite of it all, mostly he had been good that day. He nibbled at it slowly as we drove, looking out the van windows. It was already getting dark.

Then he remembered something: "Do you have my school clothes still? I changed back at your place."  He looked down at his long legs and the skimpy shorts. He didn't have to explain. "My mom can't see me like this."

"I have them in my bag", I told him. "In the back of the van. We can park and you can go in the back and get changed."

"You don't have to park. I can just change on my own". And he started to climb out of the front seat, planning to squeeze into the back of the van. I pushed him gently back down. "We're going to park", I told him.

We found a space on a curving side street in a new subdivision. There weren't many houses around. Dylan got into the back and I followed him. The seats had been folded down so there was plenty of room. We knelt on the floor of the van, facing each other.

He began searching through the bag and found his school shirt and the long pants he had been wearing. I took them from him and he looked at me searchingly.

"We have a couple of things to talk about first," I told him.

He stared down at the carpeted floor. He knew what it was about.

"I think you've been getting a few ideas lately that aren't very appropriate for you. Do you think so?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." He didn't look up.

"Tell me. Who is it who decides about those things you have between your legs?"

He was silent.

"Is it you?"

He shook his head.

"Who is it then?"

"You do."

"Good."

"And who is it who decides what you are going to do with those little playthings between your legs?  You know which playthings I mean?"

He nodded.

"Which ?"

"My peepee and all."

"Who decides what you are going to do with them? Is it you?"

He shook his head.

"Who then?"

"You do."

We sat there in the darkened van, in the deserted side street. There were tears in his eyes and he still wouldn't look up.

"I think you need a couple of reminders. Do you think so?"

He shrugged, then shook his head.

"No, please. I won't ask again. I promise."

"I think you need a couple of reminders," I repeated. "Lower the pants."

He looked around. "People will come."

"No people will come. Lower the pants."

The little jean shorts slid down to his knees. There was no need to ask him to pull down the posing strap, since it didn't cover his bottom anyway. I started to unfasten my belt. He knew what I was doing. His eyes widened and his lower lip trembled, but he said nothing.

I told him to lean forward and hold onto the back of the front seat as I extracted the belt from my pants. I doubled it and hit him, with it, hard, twice, on his bare bottom. The places where the belt had landed immediately began to stand out in red on his soft curved behind. He didn't cry out, just bit his lips again. I think he was glad there weren't more.

I handed him the school clothes and told him to slide down the posing strap, which I took from him and returned to my bag. He tried to keep his back turned so I couldn't see him so much, and besides, it was dark, but it was unmistakable that he was excited. The rings glistened a little in the dark. I could see how tight his penis head was as it pushed against the ring I had recently replaced.

It was a bit of a struggle to get the long trousers on and it took him a couple of minutes. The t-shirt went into my bag and the school sweater, with its crest, went on over his head.

I took his tear-stained face between my hands and turned it up so he was looking at me. "All good?" I asked.

He said nothing at first, then murmured, softly, "It was such a good day today. Until now."

"Kiss," I told him.

He came close. "Kiss," I said again. He pressed his open mouth against mine and his tongue worked enthusiastically, for a long time.

The End?