Chapter Seven

Marek's butt stung like nobody's business as he did his best to lick and clean up the cum from the man's desk, all the while trying to forget where exactly it had come from. Inwardly, though, he felt a little proud of how he had taken the cane stroke. Yes, his eyes had watered, and yes, it had hurt like gangbusters, but he hadn't cried. He also hadn't screamed, which he admittedly had done a lot of – albeit into his gag – the first time he had felt the cane – and that had been from the very first stroke. Had Tichy noticed the improvement? The man hated wimps. Did he even care that Marek had not been a wimp and had taken his cane stroke like a man? It didn't seem that he did. Marek was angered by that, even a bit disappointed. It just made him hate the man all the more.

Tichy made the kid polish the desk for ages though it wasn't realistic to get a good finish with just a mouth, a tongue, and a pair of slurping lips. He even had the boy lick the side of the desk to clean up the cum that had trickled over the edge. Then he pulled his chair into the desk, poured himself a vodka and lit up another cigarette. The stench of vomit was still sharp in the room, even as it competed with the thick musk of sex and the slight, almost toilet-like smell of the boy's ass as it gaped and leaked.

Marek eyed the man warily as he lit up and made himself comfortable. Tichy hadn't bothered to put on his pants, and he wasn't telling Marek he could go. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the boy realized that he almost certainly wasn't done for the day. His punishment session would continue.

"I need a bit of a break to decide what to do with you next," said Tichy. "Get under the desk and lick me clean, then start sucking. I don't want to hear anything. Until I tell you otherwise, I only want to feel a mouth and tongue cleaning me up and then trying to make my cock feel good. Pace yourself. You're going to have to last a while. And don't hurt your throat too much. Try and do as much work as you can with your tongue. Oh, and," he added almost as an afterthought, "no hands. Arms behind your back." And with that series of instructions, he spread his legs under the old desk, lowered his chair to make enough space above his crotch for Marek to perform, and took his first deep swig of the vodka.

Marek sighed softly as he sunk to his knees. Poof, he thought to himself about Tichy. Fucking poof. But the boy complied with the man's directions, lacing his fingers behind his back as he crawled under the desk to begin working on the man's penis with his mouth. As he moved closer, however, he wrinkled his nose from the foul odor, and wrinkled it more as he realized what it was – it was the nasty stink from his own butt! That unsavory smell was from his poop.

He couldn't lick that. The concept was beyond gross and disgusting. He knew that Tichy didn't want to hear anything from him, but this was a flat-out emergency. The man would want to know that his cock had been fouled. Marek also knew that he had only a few seconds to explain why he hadn't started licking it, yet.

"Mr. Tichy?" he asked tentatively, as his blood started to chill.

"Lenin's balls!" cursed the man, groaning angrily. At this rate, he was going to end up killing the kid after all, which is something he had seriously considered when he first learned of the boy's existence. The idea of ending the Hurta line and obliterating the Glass King's last living legacy had greatly appealed to Tichy, but in the end he had decided on a different course. Marek was lucky he was just 12 years old, because only his relative youth had saved him from assassination, and it was all that was saving him right now from a very wrathful, painful punishment.

"I gave you simple and clear instructions and nothing even all that physically hard!" Tichy barked at the boy. "Now be quiet. You're just a mouth and tongue on my cock until I say I'm done with my break," he growled. It was an actual, animal-like, annoyed growl. He didn't ask Marek what his issue was, but nor did he pull the kid out from under the desk to beat the shit out of him – not yet, anyway. If Marek wanted to push his luck, however, he could keep right on talking and find out just how violent Tichy could be. The man had made his instructions crystal clear, and if there had been any doubt in the boy's mind what was expected of him, that should all be cleared up now. Tichy was all out of patience and goodwill for the moment.

Marek flinched like he had been slapped at the sound of the man's anger-filled voice. With a sinking feeling, the boy realized the man didn't understand that all he was going to do was ask if he could clean the man's cock off with one of the handkerchiefs. He wasn't trying to get out of cleaning, or sucking, or whatever the man wanted him to do. It was just Tichy's cock was nasty with … stuff. Probably poop. Almost certainly poop. How was he supposed to suck it like that?

But Tichy was having none of it, and it was quite obvious that he was at the end of his tether. Marek was sure that if he understood what the boy was trying to say, he wouldn't be so angry, but there was no way to get him to that point without angering him. The boy didn't dare open his mouth for fear of what the man would do to him if he did. Now what?

With a terrible, sinking feeling, Marek realized that he would have to clean and suck the man's cock "as is." That is to say, he would have to do those things with Tichy's cock in its nasty, smelly, and frankly awful condition. But he had no other choice, so he leaned forward reluctantly, arms behind his back, and lipped the semi-erect cockhead partially into his mouth. It didn't taste good at all, and as Marek looked down at it, almost cross-eyed, that's when he saw a smear of filth on the man's shaft, looking much like an errant brush stroke of wet, brownish-yellowish paint. Glistening, thick, nasty paint. Marek knew what it was. It was about halfway up the man's shaft – or down, depending on how you looked at it. Marek didn't like looking at it at all.

This time, the way Tichy was sitting, they couldn't even make eye contact with each other. The man was right in how he described this activity as just a mouth around his cock under his desk. Of course, he knew or strongly suspected what the boy's issue was, but he wasn't about to let on unless Marek pushed his luck. He wondered momentarily how much resistance was left in the kid, but as Marek's lips wrapped reluctantly around his cock, he knew right then that there wasn't much resistance left at all. A taste of the cane could do that to a boy, and Marek had experienced more than just a taste; he'd eaten an eight-course buffet of cane and gone back for seconds. The cane certainly was a marvelous motivator when it came to the behavior of young boys!

Marek's cheeks blushed with shame as he began to clean and suck the man's penis yet again, for what was … how many times was it now? The boy had lost count. The shape and texture of the man's cockhead was becoming horribly familiar to Marek, but the taste that adhered to it now was new. For the most part, it tasted like the cream Tichy had used for lubrication. But there was another taste, too: Foul and profane, it had come from Marek's ass, and the boy knew exactly what it was.

Tichy could feel the offensive spot on his cock as the boy's lips smeared it. It had a slightly grainy texture, and it felt strange on the more sensitive areas of his cock as Marek worked it with his mouth. The man took a drag on his cigarette, then a long swig of vodka, and relaxed. He had every intention of making this activity last a long, long time. All of the elements for fun and pleasure were there – a filthy cock, a musty, stuffy area under his desk on the disgusting old carpet, and a very sad, very cute, naked, beaten, broken, freshly ass-fucked little 12-year-old boy on the verge of tears as he slowly sucked and cleaned that very same filthy cock with his tongue. Mhmmmm. The setup was nothing short of perfect, and the boy's reluctant-but-compliant performance made the man feel feared, powerful, and invincible. He felt almost like a god, which to the boy, he pretty much was. He was Marek Hurta's personal, wrathful, vengeful god, and there was absolutely nothing the kid could do about it.

Tears came to Marek's eyes as he first cleaned and then sucked the man's cock while Tichy simply ignored him like he wasn't even there. It wasn't fair. Tichy hadn't let Marek speak, hadn't let the boy explain that there was filth on his cock – terrible, awful, disgusting filth. How could the man be so dense? He should have known that if you ram your cock up someone's butt, it might just come out with poop all over it. It was simple, common sense, but Tichy had been too stupid to listen. That was all Marek had wanted to tell him so he could clean it off. Who would want poop on his cock? But Tichy made all the rules, and he hadn't wanted to hear anything from Marek. All he wanted was for the boy to clean and suck his cock for the 30 billionth time. He couldn't wait long enough for Marek to explain.

"Hey, Tichy," thought the angry boy as he imagined the conversation that never was, "you have shit all over your cock. You might want to clean it off, you stupid fucking poof."

But Tichy hadn't listened. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. As he sucked Tichy's cock – still cleaning it of everything he found there, grimacing at the taste – Marek seethed and imagined the vengeance he would inflict on the man when he was older. He would come back to the school, yes, he would, and when he did, Tichy would be sorry. He would pay for all of this! He'd be old, then, of course, old and gray, but still stupid, while Marek would be bigger, stronger, and smarter.

"Remember me?" Marek would say as he held his gun on Tichy. It would be so gratifying to see the fear in Tichy's eyes as he recognized Marek. He would see that Marek had become a man, and that Tichy's former victim now held all the cards.

He'd make Tichy go to his office – no, no, to the boiler room in the gym. Ha! He'd make Tichy take off his trousers and his underwear, have him bend over the armchair, and then Marek would give him the worst caning ever. He would get Tichy's cane from his office. He wouldn't stop hitting the man's butt even when Tichy was begging for mercy and his cheeks were an angry mass of welts on top of welts.

"Remember what you did to me here, you poofer?" Marek would ask the man. And then he would hit him some more on his butt until it had even more welts all over it and it hurt really, really bad. Marek didn't think he could actually get the man to cry – although Tichy was a lot of things, he wasn't a wimp, and Marek couldn't even imagine him actually crying, not ever – but the boy would try as hard as he could. Afterwards, crying or not, he'd pull his gun out again and make Tichy crawl with his head down and his butt up, nose to the floor. He'd make the man lick his shoes. Or no – his boots. And Marek would make sure he stepped in dog poop before he got there!

It was nice to think about, and it gave Marek a degree of solace as he sucked the man's penis. At least Tichy hadn't insisted that Marek swallow his cock all the way this time, which was good considering that the boy's throat remained swollen and very sore from the day's earlier activity. No, Tichy didn't seem to care what technique he was using so long as he had his mouth on the man's cock and was sucking and tonguing it. Marek couldn't be sure that the man remembered he was even there, under the desk, sucking away. He'd become another piece of furniture to Tichy, and that just made Marek angrier than anything.

Tichy found Marek's under-the-desk cocksucking very pleasant, but it was by no means a first for him. Making the boy clean his shit-streaked cock was new, but the act of smoking, drinking, and chilling while a boy slaved away on his cock under the desk was not. It was something Tichy enjoyed a lot, and other boys had atoned for misbehavior, disobedience, and other transgressions by spending long stretches of time in the exact spot and position that Marek was in right now.

Tichy knew they still had plenty of time for the kid to do his thing under the desk. After all, he had told Marek to come two hours earlier today with just this kind of activity in mind. Thanks to the kid's note of apology and Tichy's response to it, Marek's throat was way too sore for any additional fun on that front. Marek's careful, shallow blowjob was likely to keep Tichy hard and happy, but not terribly likely to make him cum, especially after he'd already cum deep inside the kid after what had actually been a quite vigorous and pleasurable buggering. He would need to cum again, though, so that probably meant adding a bit more soreness to Marek's butt. He didn't really plan to bother much with the corner time he had promised the boy, although this almost counted, and it was a far better use of Marek's time as far as Tichy was concerned. Oh, yes. He could get used to this, for sure, and maybe he just would. The Hurta kid wasn't really going anywhere, after all, now was he?

It was long, boring, and tiring work. Marek's mouth, lips, and tongue started feeling the strain after 15 minutes or so, but there was no indication that Tichy even remembered he was there. Marek managed to keep the man erect or mostly so, but there were virtually no signs of life from him other than that. He occasionally rustled a paper or put down his glass of vodka, but that was about it for any actual movement. Marek heard the exhales of breath as the man smoked, and the sounds of matches lighting and liquids being poured. He occasionally felt the man's penis twitch in his mouth. But other than those things, Marek just sucked on, in silence, seemingly forgotten under the man's desk.

Tichy glanced at his watch as he knocked back the last gulp of the vodka. Marek had been sucking him for some twenty-five minutes now. Tichy wondered idly what would happen if he literally never told the boy he was allowed to stop. How long would it take the kid to give up and face the cane? Could he suck for 90 minutes nonstop? Could he go for two full hours? How long would it take for his lips to go numb, his jaw to ache, and his tongue to go all limp with exhaustion? And would he ever actually signal defeat on his own, or would Tichy have to declare it for him and haul him across the desk for his caning? It would be fun to see just how long Marek could go someday, especially with proper incentives in place – maybe with the cane balanced on his upper thighs or propped up between his legs, or something like that, just as a reminder of what real pain felt like.

Marek seethed as he sucked and sucked as he seethed. He was only 12 years old and fairly easily intimidated, but he knew injustice when he saw it. The man had managed to take a secret punishment for a single offense and prolong it into days and days of treating the boy like his dog, and worse yet, using the boy for sex. He had deceived Marek. The boy had traded the last 20 spanks with the slipper for a full week of hell, every day of which was turning out to be worse than the single, intense bit of pain he would have felt if he had simply taken all 25 whacks at once and been done with it. He might not have been able to sit for a couple of days, but so what? His caning alone had been far worse than the slipper, and more strokes, too! His original punishment had grown and become worse and worse as the days went by. Tichy had tricked him. He'd tricked him and confused him into agreeing to let the man punish him cruelly, all for something he hadn't even done! Marek knew that there was no fairness in any of that, despite all the platitudes he had learned in school about the wonders of socialism and equality.

But for all his despair and near-despondency over his situation, there was one critical thing that gave Marek hope: He had only two days left with Tichy and then his punishment finally would be over. In two days, Tichy would have to find someone else to pick on. That was the deal they had struck, and the man was all about holding Marek to his side of it and punishing him if he didn't keep his word. Well, Marek would make Tichy keep his word, too. Two more days, and he wouldn't have to come back here ever again. He simply wouldn't have to. And then, someday, when Tichy least suspected it, Marek would come back with a vengeance. He made that promise to himself more than once as he joylessly sucked the man's cock.

Finally, after the better part of an hour being sucked, Tichy thought up the exact game he wanted to play next. It was a shame the boy had creamed his panties in his sleep, though in Tichy's experience, the slight reduction in the volume of fluid in one's balls didn't really reduce horniness or the need to cum, certainly not the same way that cumming properly and intentionally did.

He pushed Marek off his cock and slid the chair back. "Back on the edge of the desk, on your back," he instructed the beleaguered boy.

Marek's heart was pounding in fear and he felt a pit growing larger in his stomach as he wondered what the man had planned for him next. As relieved as he was to be done sucking Tichy's cock, he was worried by the energy and excitement in the man's voice.

Tichy watched as Marek rose unhappily to his feet and leaned back across the desk.

"Stretch your arms out," the man commanded, as he tied Marek's wrists together and then affixed the ropes to the far side of the desk. Marek's wrists and arms were now trussed and stretched out like he had been for his caning, only now the boy was sprawled across the desk face-up instead of face-down.

Tichy lifted the boy's legs, rested Marek's heels on his shoulders, applied some lube, and slowly mounted the boy for the second time that day. Marek groaned, but mostly in fear as opposed to pain, as the man's cock was well-lubed, and it didn't actually hurt all that much. Mostly to test the boy's bonds, Tichy slipped in deeper and leaned heavily onto Marek in a way that put a bit of a strain on the boy's bent-back legs.

It hurt a bit more as the man pushed his cock deeper into Marek's bowels. The boy grunted with the discomfort as his legs twitched and spasmed against the man's torso. From his vantage point flat on his back on the desk, Marek could see Tichy's face and his expression of pleasure as he pressed inside him. The boy concentrated on his breathing, taking deeper breaths, trying to combat the discomfort. When the man leaned down, Marek felt his weight crushing him, folding his body, making it harder to breathe, bringing an instant, sharp, very intense feeling of panic.

"Uhhh," he gasped.

Tichy reached for the kid's exposed, hairless armpits.

"Are you ticklish, wimp?" he wondered aloud and shimmered his fingertips over Marek's sides and pits, trying to find out the answer for himself. If Marek responded favorably, it was going to be an interesting sensation as he strained and writhed while impaled on most of Tichy's fully erect cock.

Marek grimaced as Tichy started to tickle him.

"No- I mean, yes, Mr. Tichy," gasped Marek, even as the man's fingers played lightly over his skin, bringing goosepimples, but not yet, not quite, tickling. The truth was, Marek was very ticklish, in fact extremely so.

Tichy was pleased with the boy's answer. Oh, this was another better-than-good one. The boy was naked and stretched across the desk ever so tautly, so fit, so young and cute, and so helpless, with his arms stretched and bound well out of the way and his ass impaled on a cock that significantly limited his motion. Tichy smiled.

"Well this is going to be fun, then," Tichy announced and tickled a little harder, toying with the boy's naked sides, from above and over his armpits, down the sides of his ribcage and even down to the sides of his belly, finding out exactly what kind of sensation worked best on the boy. It seemed that his initial touch had been too light, so Tichy dug his fingers in a little deeper before wriggling them the second time around.

Marek's eyes widened in surprise and dread as the man started to tickle him with abandon. Not lightly, not cutely, but with fingers that knew what they wanted to do and how to do it.

"No, no ha-ha nooo ha-ha-ha," Marek gasped as he lifted his head and tried desperately to stop the man. But he could barely move as Tichy had his way with his armpits – "ha-ha, aaaah ha ha haa ha no- ahaah ha haaa haaaa," his sides – "no, Mr. Tich- aa ha ha ha ahha hhaa haa haaa hhah aaah ahhaa no ahahaha hahhhaa haahh" and his tummy – "a ha ha haa st- stop! ahaha ahhha hhahhaa hhhaa aahahh."

Throughout it all, Marek writhed and twisted – or tried to – as much as his constricted and bound position on the man's desk allowed. His bottom clenched as the man simultaneously tickled and fucked him. Another side effect of the tickling, unbeknownst to the boy, was the rapid and full stiffening of his own member, which grew nail-hard against the weight of the man's abdomen.

To Tichy, this was awesome, and funny, too. The kid's breathless laughter was contagious, and Tichy laughed along with him. He noticed the boy's boner and paused the tickling for just long enough to give it a few nice, playful, strokes.

"Lookie – see how exciting this is for you, even with all that fuss?" he teased, as he simultaneously slow-fucked the boy and leisurely jerked him off.

It wasn't awesome for Marek. He didn't like being tickled under the best of circumstances, and these were not the best of circumstances. He was almost completely immobilized and exposed. His arms and hands were useless, and his legs were nearly so, as well, being folded and bent underneath him by the weight of the man's torso. He especially didn't like being compressed like that, unable to breathe, when he already was having trouble catching his breath from the tickling. He hated that feeling more than just about anything.

Tichy let go of Marek's cock as soon as it showed signs of getting even remotely close to orgasm, then proceeded with another bout of very vigorous tickling. As the boy laughed breathlessly, he went after his arms, sides, belly, hips, his armpits again, even under the boy's chin, his neck, then more on his arms, just mercilessly tickling the boy. Seeing now that firmer touch worked best, Tichy was no longer experimenting; he tickled the boy with full intensity, wherever he seemed to get the best response.

"This is fun! And we have hours," Tichy said with a smile, then paused the tickling as the smile left his face. "Hours," he added as he gave the boy a serious look right in the eyes.

When Tichy finally paused his assault, Marek gasped for air. He had been unable to breathe for long stretches as the man tickled him. He seemed oblivious to his boner even as the man stroked it.

"Mr. Tichy," he gasped desperately. "Please – please I'm- I'm gonna pee," he begged. He knew instinctively that the man wouldn't care about his compressed position and lack of breath, but he might just care if Marek was about to pee all over his desk. "I'm really ticklish!" the boy gasped again as the man fucked him and masturbated him at the same time. Now Marek did realize that he had a boner, and more than that, he realized that the man was making it feel very good. "Uhhh," he sighed, as he continued to pant, quiet now, as the tickling had stopped. His dick twitched from pleasure in the man's hand.

And then, all hell broke loose once again as the man resumed his tickling assault. Marek's mouth opened to protest, but no air came out as his cheeks reddened. "Ah h- h-h-," he intoned, as his body tried to writhe against the sensation. His bowels clenched around Tichy's penis from deep inside.

"Ahahahahha hahhahha ahahhahhahhah ahhahahahah! Ahahahhhahhaahahah!" the boy laughed and laughed, trying to breathe, his face red. When the man repeated that he had all the time in the world, Marek shook his head wildly left and right, his eyes wide and panicked.

"No, no, please!" he begged.

The situation that Marek found himself in was a perfect distillation of his entire relationship with Tichy. Marek was totally helpless and at Tichy's mercy, yet the man was mixing bad and good sensations, confusing the boy while at the same time affirming his control and power over him. Instead of tickling Marek more, Tichy grabbed his cock and gave it a short, but rather vigorous jerking-off session, very carefully reading Marek's reactions. This time, he cut the boy off and let go of his cock only when he was sure it was going to be very frustrating for Marek to have to stop.

Marek couldn't deny the pleasure he was feeling as the man masturbated him. Nobody had ever touched his penis like that before, and it felt quite a bit different from the way Marek himself touched it when he jerked off. The man's touch felt even better, and Marek couldn't help but tense, and even twitch his hips a little bit as the man laid into it, jerking quickly with his full, adult hand wrapped around the boy's slender cock. Marek's breaths shortened to pants as his balls started to contract. But then the man simply stopped. Marek actually looked disappointed, and a bit deflated.

"All right," Tichy said, placing his hands on Marek with his fingers extended, not tickling. His touch was relaxed and soft, but he was very much in a position to dig his fingertips into the boy's ribs and start tickling again whenever he pleased. He paused to let that fact sink in.

Marek tensed as the man resumed the tickle position once again.

"Mr. Tichy," he gasped. "No – please don't tickle me, please," he begged, shaking his head no. "I'm gonna pee."

Tichy ignored the boy's pleas. "We're going to play a little game," said the man. "For as long as you answer immediately and without hesitation and say only truth, no lies or even half truths by omission, there will be no more tickling. The moment you pause, even for a blink of an eye, or stutter as you try and hold something back or censor it, I'll tickle you so hard you'll really regret it. If you think being tickled until you've pissed yourself is bad, imagine what would happen if someone kept tickling even as you are still pissing, and then continues on afterwards," he said with a wolfish grin.

Marek listened with dread to the terms of the man's latest game. What was this? What did he have to do? The boy would do anything to prevent the tickling.

"OK," he answered uncertainly.

Then the man asked the first question.

"What was it that you wanted to make a fuss about, down under the desk?" asked Tichy. "What were you going to say?"

"That- I was trying, I wanted to t-tell you there was stuff on your- on your dick," he stammered. "From when you- did that to me."

"You're stammering," Tichy warned and poked his fingertips into the boy's ribs; just a steady, little bit of pressure, not another bout of tickles, at least not yet. It was a warning. "You are self-censoring, looking for polite and careful language. I don't want that. What was on my cock? What did I do? Plain language. No roundabout explanations, no excuses. Try again. Last chance or my next question will come in about, oh, say five minutes," he warned, cocking a cruelly teasing playful eyebrow at the boy. He didn't need to tell Marek what would happen during those five minutes. "Short, simple words. Blurt them out. In one breath. Or face the consequences," he grinned.

Marek looked worried. It was not the type of dread that came with knowing that intense pain was imminent, but the kind of concern that comes when a young boy knows that in any moment, he can be reduced to a struggling, breathless, wriggling, giggling puddle just from being tickled, and that he won't be able to do a thing about it until the person doing the tickling decides it is over. Marek was very ticklish, and the man already had demonstrated his prowess at the art.

"You had sh-shit all over your cock, from my butt," he blurted at the man. Would he be hit for being rude? Marek didn't know for sure, but he was worried. "Sir," he added belatedly.

Tichy feigned surprise and added an expression that might have passed for sympathy. "And so you spent an hour sucking a cock with shit all over it, lapping it up until it was clean, to avoid the cane?" he asked in an incredulous tone. His hands were still at the ready, and the game was still very much on.

Marek thought he detected a tone of apology in the man's voice. Now Tichy finally understood what Marek had been trying to tell him all along.

"Yes," he replied, before quickly adding "sir." "I didn't want to," he added, in case that part hadn't been made clear in the earlier recitation.

"Well, I guess now we know another depth to which a complete wimp can sink," replied Tichy coldly. "You did it, you're still alive, and not caned, so I guess you really did that one the wimp way," said Tichy in a voice that was now most definitely not apologetic.

"When I'm done fucking you and untie you, you're gonna do it again. This time, I'm going to watch and see the shit disappear off my cock, by wimp magic. I don't think I've even seen a wimp sink quite so low, so it should be quite interesting," Tichy added. "Say it. Tell me what you'll do when I'm done fucking you," he said as he thrust in a little sharper to remind the boy that he indeed was still fucking him.

Marek looked crushed. The 12-year-old had thought that, just maybe, the man felt a little sorry for what he had made him do. For a moment, the boy thought that Tichy might even apologize for it, telling Marek that he knew that had been unfair, he hadn't meant it to happen, and he never intended the boy to do something that awful as part of his punishment. Maybe he'd even see Marek as brave for doing it without complaint.

None of those things came even remotely close to happening. Tichy appeared disgusted by his admission, and the boy realized he was right. Marek's face blushed with shame. How hard had he actually tried to tell the man about the shit-smeared condition of his cock? Not hard at all. He had been so scared of the cane that he had basically said nothing. As Tichy had concluded, he was so scared of the cane and such a wimp, he had decided to use his mouth to clean his own shit from the man's cock rather than run the risk that his precious little bottom would feel the cane. Marek was despondent with himself, but he still had the man's question to answer.

"I'm gonna clean the … uhh …" he paused and gasped in discomfort as the man thrust into him. It hurt, but not as much as the pain in his soul at what he had become. Tichy's words cut at him, leaving deep wounds.

The boy paused for a moment, gathering his emotions and his thoughts.

"Why do you hate me?" he suddenly asked the man, his eyes flooding with tears, his voice high and squeaky with self-pity.

"I ask the questions in this game, and you play it," Tichy warned the boy. "You should know better than that by now. Now, say what you were meant to say. We'll discuss my dislike for wimps and why I like to punish them and you, in particular, another day, in detail," Tichy promised. "If I hated you, trust me, you'd know."

He would give Marek about three fucking seconds to correct his behavior and announce, out loud, that he was going to suck the shit off Tichy's cock when this bout of fucking was over. Otherwise, with his fingers on the boy's ribs, there was an almost-too-easy way of reminding Marek who called the shots around here, and just how helpless he was in this specific situation.

Marek was angry at himself for becoming emotional. It was silly and stupid, and it had no chance of earning him anything other than the man's ridicule, contempt, and cruelty. Nothing worked with Tichy, not begging, not pleading, not apologizing, not even obeying. He was just miserable, mean, and Tichy-like all the time. Most of all, what did it even matter? He had two days left. Or, more accurately, the balance of this one, if he survived it, and two more days after that. Fuck Tichy.

"I'm gonna suck your cock with shit all over it," hissed Marek with a fierce expression on his face. It was a look of utter hatred.

Tichy had to move his hand only a little higher to deliver a hard, open-palmed slap directly to the boy's angry face. Marek's head jerked to the side as his cheek instantly reddened with the harsh imprint of the man's hand and fingers.

"Yes, and you're going to be nice and polite about it, too, unless you want to do it as a follow-up to a long, hard caning that will remind you of your manners," warned Tichy sharply. "Such angry feelings. You must be full of angry thoughts, too. Thoughts you probably want to keep secret, right?" His hand slid back to the boy's side again, ready to tickle.

"What were you thinking about as you sucked the shit off my cock, wimp?," Tichy asked the boy. "Eyes on me! No lies!"

Marek recoiled at the slap, but he wasn't surprised by it. He had virtually spat his words at the man, and he hadn't appended the word "sir" to them. The boy turned his head back immediately and stared at Tichy, looking sullen and like he was feeling sorry for himself. He did feel sorry for himself, but he was also angry, and it was the type of anger that you feel when you know you can't do anything to change the reason you feel angry in the first place – like reading about something in the newspaper that gets you mad enough to spit, but it happened three days ago and there isn't any way to go back in time and undo it.

"How I'm gonna come back when I'm all grown up," Marek told the man in a tremulous, I'm-going-to-regret-this voice, "and get you back." His eyes watered with tears. Let the man hit him again, or do whatever, but now he knew how much Marek despised him. And Marek didn't need the threat of more tickling to tell him.

"Mhmmm," replied Tichy with a tone of amusement. "No surprise there. Even wimps dream of getting even, taking their vengeance." Tichy smiled at the boy indulgently, mocking him with his eyes. "But what did you imagine you'd do, hmmm? Will you wait until I'm decrepit, white-haired, and almost demented? How did you imagine getting your vengeance? How did you get the upper hand?" Tichy demanded, both to taunt the boy and to learn a bit about his mind and imagination. After all, Marek had already admitted plotting vengeance. If Tichy wanted to, he could cane him and make him eat shit for that alone; the details largely were unimportant, at least as to the severity of the crime.

"Go on, said Tichy. "Tell me. You had a whole hour with the taste of shit in your mouth to think about it. I bet your mind produced more than a few, juicy details. I'm all ears."

Marek's fierce gaze faltered as the man asked for details, and the boy broke his stare. With a sinking feeling, he realized he had already said too much. He also knew that providing additional details would hardly improve the situation.

"I wasn't really gonna do it," he said, trying to look just as fierce as before. "It's just stupid," he added, insincerely, hoping to change the subject quickly. "Sir."

And just like that, Tichy tutted disapprovingly, shook his head and resumed tickling the boy. He tickled hard and without pause, continually and fiercely, very intentionally, quickly leaving the child breathless with a tight, aching tummy. He didn't let up for a considerable time.

Marek's body arched off the desk as much as it could as the man resumed his attack on his sensitive, ticklish places. He couldn't speak, although he tried to, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and making sounds like one, too.

"Oh ahahahhahha hhahhaahah! hahahhahhahah! Aahhhahhahahhhahhahh!" he finally was able to gasp as he squirmed and wriggled.

Tichy paused his assault, but only for a moment. "Details, wimp. Three, two, one," Tichy counted, slowly enough so Marek could suck in a breath and start talking, but not enough for Marek to think about anything, let alone come up with a lie.

Marek was gasping for air, almost choking on his breaths as he tried to regain control of himself. The kind of tickling the man just administered was not the cute, fun, make-me-giggle variety. It was instead the I-can't-breathe, please-stop, I'm-going-to-die variety – nearly a full minute of near-silent torment until the man alone chose to pause, allowing the boy to breathe once again. It was not tickling for the faint-of-heart. Marek's face had turned a deep red and he panted desperately for air as the man spoke and began to count down once again.

"I- I was g-gonna get a gun and shoot you!" Marek gasped in desperation.

"Interesting," said Tichy and went on fucking the boy, but didn't keep tickling him. No punishment came as a result of that admission, or the previous, more general one. In fact, he touched the side of the boy's face almost tenderly. "Oh, Marek," he said mysteriously, in a soft, perhaps a little hurt sort of voice. But he didn't explain and his expression was guarded and neutral, if a little tense, even as he thought about the terrible crimes of the boy's bourgeois, collaborator of a grandfather. He leaned in, hurting Marek a bit as he sunk painfully balls deep into the boy's ass, but this time it wasn't intentional. He untied Marek's wrists with a few tugs of the expertly tied knots.

"Uhhhh," Marek winced as the man pressed deeper than ever into his bowels. But what was the man up to now? Marek could not read his expression or his tone, and that worried the boy. Why had he said "Oh, Marek" like that? It was almost as if Marek had hurt his feelings – which, he supposed was very possible when someone tells you they've been fantasizing about shooting you with a gun. But Tichy seemed genuinely … something. Marek couldn't determine what it was.

Tichy grabbed Marek's hands and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Arms around my neck," he commanded casually, "legs around my hips," he added and slowly stepped back from the desk.

Marek reached out with tentative arms and awkwardly wrapped them around the man's neck. The boy was extremely nervous. What was this about? He felt himself lifted up, almost … gently, and he brought his legs around the man's waist. What was this? What was happening? He was now literally clinging to the man with his arms and legs wrapped around him, still impaled on Tichy's cock, as the man rose to his feet. The only thing Marek could come up with was that the man planned to throw him out the third-floor window of his office for all but threatening to kill him.

But instead of walking to the window, Tichy hugged the boy to steady him, squatted low slowly, then sat down – he was strong, but also flexible – and pushed the boy up to sit up, with his knees and toes on the floor to either side of Tichy, his ass still very deeply penetrated by Tichy's cock. Tichy stretched out his legs and lay down, hastily pulling a folded coat under his head as an impromptu cushion. Marek was in a cowgirl position, just a little shifted for the anal penetration and to account for the significant size disparity between the two of them.

Tichy reached for the boy's hips and guided them slowly but firmly forward and a little up and then back and down. He repeated the motion twice more to be sure the boy understood.

"Like that," said Tichy, as he leaned back and simply relaxed. "You get me off. Then you slide off and make a show of cleaning me with your mouth. You'll make sure I can see every detail of the process. But first, move your ass. Earn your prize!"

It was with more than a little relief that Marek realized that the man did not seem to be angry with him, much less preparing to kill him by chucking him out the window. Still, the man's suddenly placid demeanor made little sense to the boy. Both the bound, tickling desk fuck and the police-style interrogation had ended abruptly, and Marek didn't know why. Because he didn't know why, he was worried. It was not in Tichy's nature to let disrespect go unpunished. Marek had seen that first-hand during p.e. and training, and he had once watched Tichy press an older boy against a wall and slap him three times in the face for mouthing off during an air-raid drill.

But Tichy had simply carried him to a spot on the floor, his cock never once leaving the 12-year-old's rectum. What was this? What was the man doing? New instructions came soon enough, and Marek at least understood what was expected of him in the short term. Whether there would be any long-term ramifications for what he had said to the man would apparently be determined later.

He began to ride the man now, moving his hips up and down as he had been shown. Tichy removed his hands, leaving Marek to his task. It felt strange to the boy. He now controlled the pace of his own fucking, almost as if he were fucking himself. That made him feel very funny, but as he flexed his hips and rode himself up and down on the man's cock, he also started to feel something funny down there, deep down inside him. Almost like there was a little electrical spot that felt good when it rubbed against Tichy's cock.

Tichy grunted with pleasure. Oh, yes. This was another good one, and another first. Tichy had never been in this position before, not with a boy, anyway. Marek's erection sprung back to life and stiffness as the boy started to impale himself. He left the boy fully in charge of the motion and pace, at least for now. Tichy reached for the kid's cock and held his wrist in place, lowering the hand a little, and loosely gripping the thin erection. Marek had to rock his hips quite vigorously to make the unmoving hand feel good on his cock, which also steered him to move along the sort of axis Tichy wanted him to traverse, both because it felt good for him, but also because it was very likely to keep surprising the boy as his little prostate continued to be poked every time he lowered himself onto the man's erection. Tichy smiled. He had already edged the boy twice. He wanted to see him try and get off. He wanted the kid to show that he was horny, but for once, he didn't make that wish explicit and seemingly left Marek to his own devices.

Marek had no idea what he was experiencing. All he knew was that there was something "down there" in his bottom that felt almost magically nice if he rubbed it with Tichy's cock a certain way. To his surprise, he found that the very same motion the man had shown him – undulating up and forward, down and back – was the best way to graze the spot. To the 12-year-old, it almost seemed like the tingle you get when you have to pee and try to hold it and get a boner, but not quite. This was different and even more intense. It was very definitely giving the boy a boner and making his penis feel good at the same time.

So he kept at it, his member nail-hard, and that's when Tichy added his hand to the mix, giving the boy something to thrust against even as he undulated, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide. His body was working, his heart rate elevated, his breathing deepening almost to a pant. The boy hated to admit it even to himself, but what he was doing felt good. Even with the man's stiff cock up his sore ass, it felt very, very good.

Tichy didn't even know what would be more entertaining next: Ruining the boy's orgasm once again, giving him that weird, prostate-milking kind by removing his hand just before the boy started cumming, or simpy letting the kid cum, wide-eyed and blown away at this new intensity – this new possibility – as he rode atop the man's cock. He decided to leave it to chance, and partly to Marek, by just holding his hand in place, with a gentle grip on the boy's cock. If Marek rode well, he would soon make Tichy cum, and if he managed to get himself off, too, Tichy quietly decided he was just going to let him do it. It would give the boy something to think about other than just an endless stream of punishments. Cumming while fucking himself, and while knowing that the next thing he was going to do was suck a shit-smeared cock, should mess with the kid's head more than a little bit. Tichy smiled a smug half-smile. He could already see himself lighting up and pouring himself another vodka when this was all over, but damn, right now, he was starting to feel tense as he slowly but steadily approached the point of cumming for the second time that day.

This was more work for Marek, but not like the work of cleaning and sucking the man's cock after the first time he had been fucked. This was work of a different kind, more physically demanding, but immeasurably more rewarding in its performance. It occurred to the boy as he rode the man's cock that what he was doing – not by the act itself, which was forced, but the intense pleasure he was deriving from it – was irredeemably homosexual. He ignored that issue for now, simply because it took nearly all of his concentration to undulate in such a way as to keep the man's cock grazing against whatever spot he had down there in his stomach that very much liked to be grazed.

The boy was panting now as he settled into the rhythm of sex: Up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide. His forehead dampened with perspiration as he punctuated his efforts with occasional little sighs and groans. He knew that he would have to put this episode completely out of his mind when his time with Tichy finally was over in a couple of days. But for now, all he cared about was getting off, and if could do it by complying with the man's instructions, all the better.

Despite his seeming affection for the boy in this moment, Tichy was still an evil bastard, a hardline communist of the Stalinist ilk (long after Stalin was no longer cool, even in Soviet Russia), with few redeeming qualities. But he most definitely wasn't stupid. In this moment, he was very carefully, very intentionally sinking his claws into the boy where it mattered. Marek could try and not think about it later and probably be in denial about it later, but this, here, was a formative experience and Tichy knew it. A true sense of clarity washed over him. He totally wasn't going to ruin the moment, oh, no. He made sure that the angle was good, and, almost too imperceptibly that Marek couldn't be sure if it was really happening, he started to move his hand and wrist into the boy's thrusts to help jerk the boy off.

Tichy wasn't far from cumming himself. He'd never had the simultaneous-cumming thing happen in his life – that seemed to happen only in porn and stories – but he wondered: Could he get the boy off and follow himself shortly after, or get the boy off in the immediate aftermath of his own orgasm, before his cock shrank too much in the kid's ass? For now, he made sure not to move his hips at all, because then he'd cum way too soon; in fact, almost right away. Instead, he remained perfectly still as he surreptitiously moved his hand and squeezed a little harder at just the right moment to help Marek get there.

Marek was in a rhythm. With his arms braced on the floor next to the man's rib cage, he leaned forward over the man's chest, slack-jawed and panting, his eyes alternating between closed and unfocused as he concentrated on maintaining his motion: Up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide. His forehead beaded with perspiration as he strived to keep precisely the same motion and pace. The man had stroked him before, never letting him cum, and Marek was under no illusions that he would allow him to this time, either, but until the man pushed him away, the boy was going to keep thrusting against his hand because it felt really fucking good.

Somehow, the combination of his dick rubbing against the man's hand and the man's cock rubbing that thing inside his stomach was making Marek's build to orgasm even better – way better, in fact – than when he did it himself. He ignored the chafing, abrasive pain in and around his anus. All that mattered was the pace: Up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide. It felt really, really good. Amazingly good. So good …

The boy came suddenly, jerkily, his rhythmic motions interrupted as he grunted, gritted his teeth, and thrust his hips forward to blast what seemed like a bucketful of cum spurt by spurt into the man's hand. In reality, it was only two or three sharp jets of kid jizz, but it felt like a lot more to the boy as his balls contracted again and again and strained to jettison their load.

Holy shit, he had cum! Not only had Tichy not stopped him, but it had to be one of the best orgasms of his life. The boy didn't know what had caused him to blow a huge load in the middle of the night while he was sleeping, and another one the next afternoon that seemed like the biggest cum he had ever had, but whatever it was that was causing it, wow it had felt good.

While the boy was tired now and wanted nothing more than to roll off Tichy's hips and lie panting on his back on the floor, he knew he had a job to finish and another task to do after that, so he quickly worked to re-establish his rhythm and bring the man to climax. He continued with the same motion: Up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide, up-forward-thrust, down-back-slide. To his surprise, he found that the spot in his stomach continued to feel good whenever Tichy's cock touched it, so he concentrated on making sure that contact happened as he undulated atop the man and tried to bring him to orgasm.

Tichy normally got off mostly on his power-highs: The concentrated, almost unlimited power he wielded over the boys in the internat, especially the ones from troubled homes or being raised by single- or less-important parents. He most definitely was a sadist, and his plan to exact cruel vengeance from the Glass King's helpless grandson was especially exhilarating to him. But there was something primal, undeniable, and universally appealing about seeing another's arousal and unrestrained bliss. Arousal, especially in a conjoined act, is contagious, and it certainly was in this case. Seeing the boy ride his cock more and more willingly turned Tichy on with unexpected intensity and watching Marek cum was incredible. Plus, of course, as the boy's body tensed with orgasm, his ass had clenched around Tichy's cock, and that was quite an intense sensation, too, a different sort of squeeze than when a boy tensed in pain. It was somehow deeper than that, and definitely good.

Marek didn't collapse or even stop when he was done. To his credit, he kept at it, hard and fast enough for Tichy to follow suit with his own orgasm within less than a minute; it was not quite an overlapping or back-to-back orgasm, but close. Tichy grunted, gasped, and shot a nice, strong load straight up the kid's ass. It was the ass that Stanislav Tichy as good as owned at this school.

As the man climaxed inside him, Marek went still, remaining seated on Tichy's cock, his hands braced at the man's sides as he felt the warm cum begin to spread out in his bowels. The 12-year-old's lithe, fit little body had had to work really hard for some time, exercising every bit as intensely as on the soccer pitch. The fatigue showed on his face, and his chest and stomach heaved as he panted. Tichy's office on the third floor of the school's administration wing always seemed a bit too warm, especially in the late afternoon when the west-facing windows received their daily dose of sunlight, and today was no different. The boy's skin glistened with a sheen of moisture and his face was damp with perspiration. A bead of sweat rolled down his nose and he wiped it away.

"Aaaah," Tichy sighed contentedly as his orgasm subsided. He looked up at Marek. The boy had his instructions and Tichy wanted to watch him perform his next task. The man didn't feel like talking, and he was pretty sure he didn't need to remind Marek of the price of his wimpishness and his just-experienced pleasure.

Marek paused for a moment, still in position atop the man, as Tichy exhaled in post-orgasmic bliss. The pause gave the boy a moment to think about the final, unsavory task he still needed to perform. He wasn't looking forward to that at all, not that part. That part would be awful. But then a lone thought occurred to Marek: Hadn't the whole thing been awful? Hadn't he hated all of it equally and fully?

Suddenly, Marek felt flushed, panicked, and completely out of sorts. Intense feelings of guilt hit him like a sledgehammer from out of the blue. What had he done? What had just happened? But he already knew. He hadn't been fucked against his will this time. The man hadn't raped him. This time, he'd actively participated in being buggered. This time, he hadn't been fucked by Tichy; he'd willingly fucked himself on the man's cock. He'd taken an active role in homosexual sex, and he had enjoyed it.

The reality of what he had done hit Marek hard. He'd had sex with a man and had cum while doing it. That realization filled the boy with overwhelming feelings of revulsion and shame and he kept repeating the offense in his mind. He had cum while having homosexual sex with a man. Why? How could he possibly have done that? Was he a homosexual now? Did doing that make him one? Had Tichy turned him into an ass-eating, buttfucked poof? How could he ever look himself in the mirror again?

These thoughts troubled Marek greatly, but he knew that the man would become impatient if he didn't do the other thing he had been instructed to do. There was no way out of performing this final, unsavory task, as much as Marek may have wished there were.

With a heavy heart, the boy slowly lifted his hips and allowed Tichy's spent cock to slide free of his slippery ass. Carefully and a bit awkwardly, Marek crab-walked backwards atop the man's prone body until he found himself once again kneeling between Tichy's legs. The man's glistening cock lay across his abdomen like a water snake. Of course, the boy knew exactly why it was wet, but he banished the thought from his mind as he grasped the man's shaft, lowered his head, and lipped Tichy's penis into his mouth to suck it clean.

Tichy's cock went almost completely limp as soon as it slipped out of the boy's butt, as it usually did after a second orgasm in quick succession. But as Marek wrapped his lips around it and started to suck, it pulsed, as if it had a life of its own, and immediately swelled into a semi-erect state. It wasn't fully hard nor quite full-sized, but it came nearly to attention in the cute 12-year-old's soft little mouth.

Tichy watched Marek very carefully as the boy sucked. The shock on the kid's face was evident as the realization of what he had just done dawned on him. Marek had bitten hard on the bait and hook that Tichy had cast for him. Tichy had seen the same reaction before in other boys. It had felt good, and Marek had played a very active and specific role in achieving it, helping himself to more pleasure and in fact to an orgasm. He could hate Tichy and try and blame him for everything, but it would be very hard to blame him for this one. This was exactly the sort of experience and resulting confusion that Tichy was hoping for.

The man wanted his cock cleaned and Marek set about systematically to do just that, working to get the job done quickly but without incurring Tichy's wrath. As he did so, he tried to put the subjects he had just been thinking about out of his mind. He concentrated solely on licking and cleaning the man's cock, and when his mind wandered, he tried to steer it to the fact that he had only two more days to go of his punishment sessions. Marek was under no illusion that they would be pleasant. In fact, given what he now knew about the man, he was quite certain that Tichy would go out of his way to make them as humiliating and unpleasant as possible. But whatever he did to Marek, two days was two days, and given what he had been made to suffer already, the short remaining sentence looked very much like the light at the end of the tunnel to the youngster. He put the unpleasant tastes he was experiencing from the man's cock out of his mind. If he didn't think about what he was doing, it wasn't nearly so bad.

"Eyes," Tichy reminded the boy as Marek tried his best to look away. Hateful and glaring or not, he wanted to maintain good eye contact with Marek as the boy cleaned the man's slick and smelly, just-out-of-his-own-ass cock. He wanted the boy to know that this time, cleaning his cock of whatever happened to be on it was no accident. Cleaning dirty cocks was what wimps did, especially when they were told to do it, and Tichy was quite turned on and amused by seeing it done as well as the clear disgust the boy was feeling while he did it. His cock liked the feeling of the boy's young mouth as Marek worked at his assigned task, although the sensation was a bit dulled after the rather vigorous ride Marek had just given it.

Hearing the man's one-word command, Marek looked up and tried to maintain a steady gaze. This was all part of his humiliation, he knew. "Look at me and think about exactly what you are doing and who is making you do it," the man might as well have said to him. Marek didn't like that part any more than the man thought he would, but two days was two days, and soon it would all be over.

Tichy hummed a quiet, almost soundless vibration from the back of his throat, a purr of pleasure. He made sure Marek licked and lapped the whole of his cock and all around it, cleaning up all the cum and everything else that was there to clean up, too.

Marek did a very credible job, his mouth licking and cleaning even the most unpleasant patches and streaks visible on the man's shaft. He maintained eye contact, too, flitting his eyes away only when he needed to identify the next spot to clean. He heard the man humming contentedly, and the boy supposed that perhaps it was indeed nice to have someone licking and sucking your cock. Marek also supposed that he wasn't Tichy's first, but of course, when it came to that, he could not be sure. Finally, he was done, and Marek's heart sang at the prospect that the man might let him go for the day. With panties on or off, it hardly mattered to the boy. Two days was two days.

When Marek had his cock properly clean and spit-polished, Tichy pointed to the now translucent and runny droplets of cum still on his upper belly and chest. There it was, clear, shiny evidence of Marek's own role in all this.

"This, too," he ordered. "It's your mess. Clean it up."

Marek saw the wetness there on the man's abdomen. The boy was surprised at the meager, thinning quantity he saw there. Was that all? It had seemed at the time like he had cum like a faucet, but there was only a paltry quantity of thin liquid there, nothing like the thick cream Tichy produced. For the briefest of moments, Marek's mind wandered, and he felt inadequate, as if he had failed in an important category of manhood. Then, in a moment of renewed clarity, he remembered where he was, crawled to the man's side, and used his lips and tongue to slurp his own cum from Tichy's stomach. Next, Tichy held out his hand and made the boy clean up the traces of his cum from it; this time the taste was mixed with the stale tang of tobacco, as well as dirt and sweat.

Marek finally was finished with his clean up duties and he yearned to be set free. Tichy sat up, pulled himself back and then stood up, towering over the boy. He reached for his clothes and put them on.

"Corner time is supposed to be a part of your punishment and today, being a Saturday, we have plenty of time to actually make it happen, so let me teach you what that looks like," he told the apprehensive boy. "Come," he said, as he led Marek not into an actual corner, but a space opposite his desk, where he would have a glorious view of the boy as he served his time. He made Marek kneel about a foot away from a cabinet, with his knees apart and his hands on the top of his head. Then he pushed the kid's head forward until his nose touched the lacquered wooden surface. With just a little tweaking from there, Marek's position was perfect. It would not be comfortable for him, but also not impossible to maintain, at least for a while.

Marek knew that he should have been able to predict this outcome. He had been instructed to come early, and he had; it was a Saturday, and there would be nobody anywhere near the Administration wing on a weekend. Tichy had as much privacy here as he had had in the gymnasium the other day. And, of course, why would he let Marek go if he could torment and humiliate the boy some more?

With the boy leaned forward and his knees spread apart, his butt crack and his abused, slightly red and sore anus were both visible between his darkly marked buttocks. It was, to Tichy, a most lovely sight.

"Thirty minutes," announced the man. "Not a sound. Not a single motion. If I have to correct your posture, you'll do the rest of your time with some ginger root up your butt," warned Tichy as he leaned down and patted the boy on his buttocks. Leaving Marek to his task, he returned to his desk, poured himself a second vodka, lit up, leaned back, and enjoyed the view and the sweet, lingering aftermath of what felt very much like another victory in his conquest of the boy.

From his position kneeling on the floor, Marek had plenty of time to think, and his mind drifted back to a recent conversation he had had with Tichy. In a fit of despair and misery, the boy had cracked and asked the man why he hated him so. It seemed to Marek that nobody could be this cruel to another human being without a reason, but the boy had never been disrespectful or rude to Mr. Tichy, and he didn't think that he had ever offended the man in any way. So why did he seem to hate the boy so much? Tichy's answer had denied any hatred for him, but had emphasized a dislike, and then the man had mentioned that he had a special reason for disliking Marek. The boy wondered what it could be. He replayed his time at the school in his mind, but he could not come up with an explanation. The man's remarks remained a mystery, one that Marek very much wanted to solve.

His stomach muscles seemed to be taking most of the strain of his position. Marek couldn't see them, of course, but he could tell that they were tightly clenched, as if the boy were preparing to take a punch there. He wondered how much time he had to go. Twenty minutes? Ten? He tried not to move, but it was hard. He could feel the ooze of semen slowly leaking from his bottom. His stomach ached from the strain. The boy didn't like this corner time at all. The position Tichy had put him in was starting to hurt.

Tichy savored his vodka. Although it was Saturday, he didn't want to get drunk. He'd definitely been drinking more since Marek's punishment week began, and earlier in the day than usual. So, he sipped his drink, rather than gulped it. He actually liked the clean, neutral burn of alcohol in his mouth and on his tongue, even though most people had to knock the sort of stuff he was drinking down quickly. Most of them would also make a face once they did so, but not Tichy.

The tiny trickle of cum oozing visibly from the boy's butt sent a stir through the man; he actually could feel his cock starting to swell. It gave him an idea for the following day, too, which he jotted down on a piece of paper. The boy was special, and destroying, using, and debasing him like this was special, too. Tichy had brought the kid to the school for that purpose, of course, and so far his plan had worked perfectly. Marek Hurta, the sole living descendent of the Glass King, was now his to punish, hurt, and abuse as he saw fit. Friendless and fatherless, with a poor, gullible, lunatic mother, Marek had been separated from all he knew and intentionally brought to the school many hundreds of kilometers from his home. He soon would be made painfully aware of exactly how helplessly in Tichy's clutches he was, but for now, the man let him believe that his ordeal would be over in just a couple of days.

Marek's near-complete isolation and utter vulnerability made him the first boy Tichy could be almost completely unrestrained with in his depravity. The man had arranged things so that Marek was stuck here at the school to endure whatever hell Tichy decided to send his way, and he planned to take full, detailed advantage of that fact. This was mainly because Marek was the Glass King's grandson and deserved to suffer because of it, but Tichy also found that he actually was into the boy. Marek was was handsome and cute, and the man enjoyed messing with him, which in Tichy's book was as good as saying he enjoyed the boy's company. This was especially bad news for Marek fucking Hurta – not that he knew it just yet.

Tichy watched the kid like a hawk, ready to peel a chunk of ginger and take corner time to a whole new level of challenge if Marek moved so much as a single muscle. But so far, the boy had been obedient and motionless, and he had only 10 minutes to go on his original sentence. Of course, there was no clock to view and the boy didn't have a watch, so there was nothing stopping Tichy from making the boy's ordeal last longer than a half an hour if he decided he wanted to. The boy wouldn't be able to hold the stress position forever. He would certainly have to move before a full hour was up.

Marek did not like serving corner time at all. It wasn't painful, not exactly, but it was disorienting in a way, such that the boy could not necessarily tell whether parts of him were moving or about to move. His mind wasn't wandering now, as it took all his concentration to stay in position with his nose against the cabinet. He didn't like Tichy's version of corner time any more than he liked any of the man's other punishments, but he had to give credit where credit was due – Tichy's punishments were difficult, even ingenious. Even something as simple-sounding as "corner time" could be made into an ordeal, and it was becoming an ordeal. Marek wasn't sure he could stay in position for the full 30 minutes, but he was surpremely motivated to try; he had felt the ginger before, and he didn't want to feel it again. The man certainly knew a lot of ways to cause discomfort and pain. Marek wondered whether he actually had trained for the police, or maybe even for the státní bezpečnost.

Although he was a dedicated sadist and enjoyed messing with the boy, Tichy could also appreciate valiant, stubborn effort. At around the half an hour mark, therefore, he pondered letting the kid go. After all, if he used the ginger root too often it would lose its effectiveness, and the man knew that it was a good idea to save some of the punishments so that Marek didn't get used to them and continued to fear them as much as he should.

Leaned forward, with his face propped nose-first against the cabinet, it seemed to Marek like his senses were being impaired. Beyond that, his stomach ached, and his back was starting to, as well. It may not have been the longest 30 minutes of the boy's life, but by the end of it, he had certainly lived and experienced every single one of those 1800 seconds. Then, suddenly, it was over.

"Good," Tichy announced. "Come here," he commanded, as Marek pushed back and rose to his feet, his lithe, athletic young body making the maneuver look easy. Tichy handed over a clean hanky. "Wipe your ass and leg. You don't have clean underwear I assume, and you don't want to leak mess into your trousers. Then get dressed and go. Remember: Eat, drink, and sleep. Do the things that keep you healthy and strong. That's part of keeping our punishment deal a secret; if you mope about and lose a ton of weight from not eating, it'll show. Also, you need to be strong for the football match, which is very soon," he reminded the boy.

Marek took the handkerchief with a look of confusion. Sometimes, the man surprised him. It was a bit awkward wiping his bottom right in front of Tichy, but in the grand scheme of what the man had already seen and done to him, Marek realized that his embarrassment was not only silly, it bordered on laughable.

"Same time tomorrow, and as soon as you lock and strip, get into that position," Tichy said as he pointed back towards the cabinet. "And wait."

The boy's heart sang as he listened to Tichy's instructions. He was free! He was finished for the rest of the day! It was early, yet, and he wouldn't have to see the man for almost 24 hours. Best of all, in two days, his punishment would be complete, and he would be done. He would not be getting in trouble like that again and would not be returning to Tichy for discipline.

"Yes, sir," he replied to Tichy's instructions with an attentive gaze and a reassuring nod. All he wanted to do was get dressed and leave.

"All right then, go, before I change my mind," Tichy chuckled in a rare moment that had both a ring and feel of camaraderie to it.

Marek actually smiled – a real, honest, 12-year-old kid smile – as Tichy let him go. The boy was positively ebullient. He put the events of earlier out of his mind and dressed as quickly as he could, lest Tichy change his mind and keep him longer for some reason. Marek felt like he was being released from prison! Even his bottom didn't hurt – well not from the cane stripes, at least; there was still some pain and achiness around his anus. He almost – almost – said good-bye to the man as he unlocked the door. Even the key cooperated this time, and in just a few seconds, the boy was out in the hall, turning back only briefly to close the door behind him.

Two days! Two. Not four, not three, not seven, but two! Two days! Two days, and the big soccer match on Saturday. Things were looking up. Marek hoped that Tichy wouldn't do anything to hurt him before the big game, as he wanted to be in his best form. Actually, as he walked down the stairs, it occurred to him that Tichy probably wouldn't risk hurting him, as he wouldn't want to take the chance that Marek couldn't play. The boys might wonder why. People might ask questions. Marek knew that he probably wouldn't have been able to play soccer the day after his caning, when he had been walking like a penguin and unable to sit.

Two days, two days, two days! Marek broke into a light jog as he hit the first-floor, running easily and effortlessly toward the door that led to the covered walkway that led to the dorms. He was free! He was joyously, amazingly, wonderfully free.

Chapter Eight

Radek was seated at his desk when his roommate arrived. Marek said hello to the other boy, which was such a rarity that Radek gave a surprised head nod in response. Marek knew that he probably should teach Radek a lesson about ratting on him, but that vengeance could wait until he had Tichy off his back. There was no sense in risking actual trouble with the man, not with just two days to go in his punishment. If Marek found out that Radek had placed the cheat sheet in his book, however, he was going to make the fat ass wish he had never been born. Even the threat of Tichy's wrath wouldn't save Radek – or probably wouldn't save him. Marek would have to play that one by ear.

Marek worked on his studies until dinner. He felt better about things in general, but he knew that he needed to buckle down to keep his performance at school from becoming a problem. After dinner, he headed back to his dorm to kill some time before the weekly movie. It was going to be a subtitled East German production, and it wasn't supposed to be particularly good. No matter. Movie night was movie night, and it was one of the few things at the school that the boy looked forward to.

Back in the dorm, none of the kids seemed to be picking on him; he even had a brief chat with Borek Taus. It wasn't just that Marek's previous bullies and challengers were leaving him alone; it almost seemed as though they were avoiding him. He noticed, however, that certain boys kept stealing glances at him and almost seemed to be following him through the grounds, but always at a distance. For the first time in months, though, there were no pranks directed his way and no provocations. Nothing. It wasn't hard to connect the dots: Tichy was messing with him, spending a lot of time with him, and proclaiming himself to be Marek's "ally" for the time being. And just like that, no one as much as bumped into Marek. Sure, except for Borek, and a reluctant Radek, no one really talked to him, either, but that was still an improvement over how things had been before.

There was only one ominous incident, and Marek didn't even know whom it involved. It was the morning after the movie, as he was taking a dump in a toilet stall. No one else was there when he went into the bathroom, but someone walked in moments later. The business he had been doing was already a bit of an ordeal, as the boy's anus was still very sore from being fucked. It hurt to push, and it especially, absolutely hurt to expel, but while Marek was gasping in pain in the middle of giving birth, he heard the other boy's voice outside the stall door. The boy had made sure to position himself so that he could not be seen. He'd probably waited until Marek was in mid-push, too.

"Enjoy your fun, poof boy, until Tichy finds a new toy to play with," said the voice of a boy who couldn't be seen even through the cracks of the stall door. "There's a whole bunch of us who can't wait to have our punching bag back, and we'll collect with interest for all this waiting in the meantime," taunted the boy – a disturbingly older-sounding boy, possibly even one of the fourth-years – who said what he had to say and then disappeared again before Marek could identify him.

After that, the bathroom was empty again, and when Marek emerged, the hallway was too busy to identify the owner of the voice, if he even was still nearby. The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but Marek couldn't stop thinking about what the unidentified, older-sounding boy had said to him while he was doing his business. The boy's threatening words were not only ominous and chilling, but even worse, they made clear that at least some of the boys knew about his trips to see Tichy. That realization gave Marek a pit in his stomach that simply wouldn't go away. Not at breakfast, not at lunch, not at all.

How had the boy – or the boys – found out what he was doing with Tichy? Marek didn't think Tichy would have said anything. The man had promised to be discreet, after all, and he would have ample reason not to want the other boys to know what he was doing to Marek behind closed doors. But boys talk, and it wouldn't take long for one of the teachers to hear something, or maybe Skala, too. How had the older boy found out? And who was he? Marek knew that several boys had seen him trying to walk after he had been caned. But what of it? That wouldn't make him Tichy's toy. The boy had used that term – toy – and he had called Marek a poof. That suggested that they knew about a lot more than just a caning.

Then there was the part about becoming a punching bag once again. That didn't give Marek warm or fuzzy feelings, either, but he would deal with that when it came. He could handle himself. The most important thing of all was being done with Tichy, and that would happen in two more days. Today, and tomorrow. That was it. Then there was the soccer match on Saturday to look forward to.

Marek's anxieties had him only playing with his food for both breakfast and lunch. He ate about half of each, but no more, and even that he had to force down. He just wasn't hungry. As had become usual for him, his anxiety grew as the day progressed. Just before 2 o'clock, full of dread, he stole away toward the Administration wing, hoping that nobody was following him or watching him go.

Everything was preternaturally quiet, and the lights seemed to be off in the entire wing as Marek reluctantly climbed the stairs to Tichy's office, his footfalls the only sounds. Was it possible that the man had forgotten about their session? Pondering that thought gave the boy a momentary modicum of hope, but he knew it was a wish that had no chance of coming true. The afternoon sunlight filtering through the opaque glass panel in Tichy's office door streamed into the hallway as the boy approached. Marek mustered his courage, said a silent prayer, and then rapped twice on the door.

Tichy's response was immediate as he bade his visitor to enter. Of course, he was expecting Marek and he was most assuredly not expecting anyone else, not on a Sunday afternoon. His office smelled better; he had discussed things with the janitor and the carpet had been thoroughly cleaned, with all the surfaces wiped down, and even the curtains changed for new ones that didn't harbor the lingering stale stench of cigarette smoke. As a bonus, the whole room smelled quite intensely of freshly brewed coffee, with not even a hint of smoke or alcohol in the air.

As always, Marek's heart was racing in his chest as he opened the door. He never knew what mood Tichy would be in, and he never knew what plans the man had for his punishment. The boy was painfully aware that just about anything could happen to him in the privacy of the man's office, and he knew for certain that this penultimate visit was going to be a long and grueling one especially with the earlier start time the man had specified. Tichy hadn't asked him to come two hours early to play chess.

He turned quickly to lock the door, and of course, the key wouldn't turn. Marek had started to use that key as a little barometer of how things would go during his session. He wanted things to go perfectly, minimizing his punishment time – and usually his pain and humiliation, as well – but when the fucking lock didn't turn, it seemed almost symbolically like he was off to a bad start. He already could feel Tichy's eyes boring into him as he tried to work the lock. He knew it probably was just superstition, but still.

Finally, the mechanism gave way, and he was locked in the office once again with the man he both hated and feared like none other. Marek turned around and immediately spotted Tichy seated behind his desk. The man was dressed noticeably more casually than usual in sweatpants, a t-shirt, sport shoes, and socks. He looked relaxed and in a good mood. At first glance, he looked quite presentable, like he had even had a shower, but obviously that wasn't easy to tell for sure from the door.

Quickly, Marek stripped. He had this down to a routine, now, and in under a minute, the smooth-skinned 12-year-old was stark naked under the man's gaze. He dropped quickly to the floor, and once there – on hands and knees, nose down just above the carpet, butt up and belly tucked in – he began to crawl. To his surprise, the carpet smelled better, perhaps a bit fresher. Maybe that was an omen. Maybe today would be a good day, after all.

To the cabinet he went, not to the man's desk. Once there, he rose to his knees, knee-walked a bit closer, spread his legs, braced his hands against the man's cabinet, brought his face and nose into contact with it, and placed his hands on the top of his head. He remained motionless there, not even trembling, as he awaited the man's instructions.

Tichy drank his coffee and pondered. Did the boy realize how hot he was, especially displayed like that? Was he aware that this corner-time position was pretty much straight and plain body English for "Please fuck me in the ass"? Tichy read it like that, getting an erection just from the view. And what a view it was! The welts from the boy's extended caning had completely subsided now, but the discoloration and abrasions were still there, some of them scabbed-over, some of them just thin stripes on the youngster's pert-but-rounded backside surrounded by a kaleidoscope of bruising and discoloration. To Tichy, it was a marvelous sight that appealed to his dominant and sadistic tendencies. His brutal caning of the disobedient boy had taken Tichy to a special place like nowhere he had ever been before.

Now that the door was locked, the man made himself comfortable, quietly slipping out of his shoes and taking his sweatpants and boxer shorts off. He sat there in his sporty t-shirt and socks. But when he called Marek from across the office, it wasn't for the boy to get busy with his cock straight away. He had other plans.

"Stand up. Come here and turn around."

Marek stood on Tichy's command, rising effortlessly from his knees, his leg muscles cording as he elevated as smoothly as a hydraulic lift. He walked nervously toward the man, turned, and neither moved nor spoke as he presented himself. The boy clearly was anxious, and that showed in the little shivers that passed over his body. It certainly wasn't the temperature that caused them, as the office remained, as always, unreasonably warm.

Tichy tied Marek's hands, this time even more thoroughly than before, both of them boxed together behind the boy's back, each palm to the opposing elbow so it wasn't just his hands, but pretty much the whole of his arms, that were out of the game.

The last time the boy had been bound, Tichy had caned him, and while Marek didn't necessarily think that was going to happen again just now, his ligatures did not portend happy things for his immediate future. The boy was nervous – he was always nervous in Tichy's office – but he had found that obedience was the best path, and as the man bound his arms, he put all his concentration into holding his position without moving so much as a muscle.

"Turn around," Tichy commanded.

Marek turned. His chest was thrust out a bit from the way his arms were tied. He eyed the man's semi-nakedness, but his expression revealed no surprise. Servicing the man sexually had been a given from the moment Marek had walked into the office. All that remained to be determined was how, where, how many times, and how difficult it would end up being for the boy.

"You didn't finish your breakfast or your lunch," said Tichy coldly, "and you've had too many warnings on that front already. Turn around, bend over the desk, chin on the surface," he snapped and picked up a freshly-peeled ginger root, noticeably bigger than the little one he had used in Marek's butt a few days back. He made sure that Marek saw it, too, before walking behind the kid with it in his hand and slowly approached the boy's striped and discolored bottom.

Marek instantly paled as the man chastised him about eating. One of Tichy's moles must have been spying on him in the canteen, because Marek hadn't seen the man at all for either meal. Tichy's absence apparently had given the boy a false sense of confidence. He swallowed nervously, wishing he could go back and eat what he had been told to eat. Tichy was right – he hadn't eaten much for either meal today. Not even half. The truth was, he hadn't eaten much all week. The boy had lost over three pounds since his sessions with Tichy had begun, and on his slender, young body, it showed. His ribs were a bit more visible, the taut hollowness of his stomach a bit more pronounced when he stretched. A bit more of his muscle tone could be seen under his skin.

With a feeling of dread, Marek knew that he was about to learn the hard way that Tichy's instructions about eating were not intended as mere suggestions. His heart raced with fear as he moved to comply with the man's commands. He didn't want the cane, but he didn't want to make things even worse than they already were, so he set aside his fear, bent at the waist, and put his chin to the desk as the man had instructed. He swallowed again as Tichy displayed the ginger root. The boy's stomach clenched in dread. It was a big root, and Marek already knew what the ginger could do.

Tichy barked a series of instructions. He had either been faking his good mood from earlier or he was being mercurial, because his commands were snappy and carried a dark hint of warning with them. Marek had better not dare disobey him now, not even a little bit.

"Belly low. Lower. Legs wider apart. Wider. Now on your tiptoes, heels off the floor, stick that ass up and back. Really stick it out. Belly lower. Ass a bit more back." He was being bossy and specific, and he drilled the boy until his puckered starfish started to peek open, stretched both vertically and horizontally by the boy's position.

Marek did everything the man asked, lifting certain body parts, lowering others, spreading, and tiptoeing. It wasn't easy and he grunted with effort, trying to hold the awkward position Tichy had put him in. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold it for long.

The ginger slipped in with surprising ease, lubed as it was with nothing but its own stinging, prickly juices. Marek felt the root fully as Tichy pressed it inside him. He moaned as his anus clenched around it. This root was far bigger than the first one, but it slid in right up to the point of the slight T shaped ending that had been carved into the end. Marek knew it would start to hurt soon, probably in no more than a couple of minutes. He didn't want to think about how much it would hurt after that, or for how long.

Tichy pointed to the floor where there was a metallic dog bowl full of food that Marek hadn't noticed before. The bowl held a decent, adult-sized portion of what looked like scrambled eggs with beans and some greens, all in small, manageable pieces, cold and slightly soggy. It was slops that didn't need a knife to be eaten.

"When you've polished that clean, you can suck my cock," the man said coldly. "The rules are the same as last time. The ginger stays in until I've spunked in your mouth," he added as he sat down on his chair to watch with a sly smile on his lips.

Marek listened carefully as Tichy laid out the rules, then immediately dropped to the floor and quickly knee-walked to the bowl. He didn't have any time to waste. The race against the ginger was on, and the boy knew it. The root in his rectum was like a ticking time bomb, and it was already starting to get warm and tingly.

Tichy watched. "If canteen food at mealtimes is too good for you, you're going to eat wimp food, wimp-style. It's just eggs, kidney beans, few bits of broccoli, ham, and my jizz. Just one load's worth, but enough to remind you this is a wimp meal you're eating because you wimped out of finishing your proper ones when you should have."

Lowering his head and face to the bowl without the use of his arms proved more difficult than Marek had expected, as did eating without his hands to help him. Marek was in a hurry, but everything seemed to be conspiring against him to slow him down. The boy moaned as he tried to eat the stuff hands-free, but it kept getting away, delaying him.

The man's critical tone was not lost on Marek, but the whole eating thing mystified him. Why did Tichy care what he ate or how much? The issue had always been a secondary concern to the boy. It wasn't like Marek was trying to starve himself; it had just been a difficult week for him. He'd been full of a lot of anxiety – nearly every bit of it brought on by Tichy himself! How was he supposed to eat when his stomach was tied in knots and he felt nauseated and fearful all the time? How was he supposed to be hungry when he spent most of each day dreading his visits to Tichy's office? The caning he had received hadn't helped, either. He couldn't sit down in the canteen afterwards, and the pain was so great he couldn't even think about eating that night. So, yes, he had missed meals, but most of the blame for that rested with Tichy!

The man sipped his coffee casually as he watched the boy struggle. He reached for his smokes and lit a Startka. He found the view both amusing and satisfying. Once again, he had set this up with perfect sadism and it was a marvel to behold. Marek Hurta was a very unhappy boy as he learned the consequences of disobeying even the most minor of the man's instructions. Nonetheless, Tichy thought he was being quite merciful in his choice of punishments. The boy was lucky he was not being caned for his misbehavior, and if not for the wrecked condition of his ass, he would have been. Tichy was not a man who tolerated disobedience, especially not from 12-year-old boys, and especially not from 12-year-old boys named Hurta.

Because he already had been so merciful, the man had no intention of helping the boy until the last swallow of his cum had made its voyage down into the lad's belly. Tichy was in absolutely no hurry, while Marek was racing against time to obey and perform. It was … delightful. Made even more so by the cum that Tichy had deposited into the sloppy mixture for the boy to eat. Because he had jerked off shortly before the boy's arrival, it would take extra effort for Marek to coax him to a second orgasm so soon after the first, and that with the ginger root burning a hole in his rectum as the boy performed. No, Tichy didn't intend to help him at all. He had already been merciful, after all.

Marek was unhappy and frustrated. Eating like this, with his arms tied behind his back, was much more difficult than he had expected. He ate almost like a dog, but with an extra work out for his abs as he lowered his face – sometimes slipping into the bowl face-first – and then was forced to rise again to swallow. It was a living hell of an exercise and eating the whole bowl like this was going to take time that Marek simply did not have. Indeed, the clock already was ticking dangerously as the ginger juice started to take effect. The plug was bigger, and the effect on Marek's prostate was more immediate as well, as the blood flow to his groin increased. Soon, he found himself eating not only hands-free on the floor from a bowl of cold, disgusting food with globs of the man's jizz in it, but with an awkward boner, as well.

As the clock in his rectum ticked away and his discomfort increased, Marek was growing angrier and more anxious. The fucking food kept moving away from him. He couldn't coax it into his mouth. Yet, when he finally corralled a morsel, he either had to bite into it with his teeth, or get it with his lips, sit up, and let gravity take it into his mouth. All of that was taking time – too much time. Yes, the food was cold and gross, made even more so by the jizz that Tichy had disgustingly added to it, but Marek wasn't exactly taking the time to savor each bite. He was eating just as fast as he could, which is to say slowly, because the fucking food simply would not cooperate!

As he knew it would, the ginger started to burn. Slowly at first – like before – but growing gradually worse, and the boy knew from experience that it would get even worse from there. It was burning in more places, too. Marek gasped as he chased another bite, his face in the bowl, his useless arms bound up tight behind him. The binds were so constricting, and without his arms and hands, even to use as outriggers, his balance was off. The ginger was really hurting now. Marek started to sweat. His body shook, but also wiggled and flinched as he tried to ward off the burn. His anus clenched tightly around the ginger root, as if trying to expel it.

Halfway now. The boy was eating, or he was trying to. Oh, but it hurt! He moaned with pain. How could he possibly give Tichy a blowjob, too? His leg jiggled as he chased another bite, gasping, now, even panting. The little clod of eggs and beans got away. Marek lifted his head to catch his breath, then looked down at the bowl. It was not even close to empty. He had at least several minutes to go before he could even start the man's blowjob. It was simply too much for the boy to bear.

"Mr. Tichy," he gasped as he turned to his tormentor. "I can't do th-this, please," he begged the man.

"No," said Tichy coldly. "I'm not offering you an alternative, not this time. This is quite harmless pain. It has no lasting effects. Once the root is out, it will stop and leave no damage behind. It's quite a suitable punishment for a wimp. And you've been told – and told again, and reminded by your roommate, and told some more – to eat your meals and make sure nothing looks off, and now your ribs are showing. So, now you're going to learn this lesson right to the bitter end. You'll eat up and lick the bowl clean, and then you'll suck me off. The root stays in. If you want to have a fit about it and roll or dance around crying, go right ahead, but you'll only prolong it and make it worse for yourself," said Tichy sternly and pedantically.

Marek's face looked like it disintegrated as the man rejected his pleas. The boy burst into tears as he simultaneously expelled a held breath. He moaned in despair and looked down at the bowl again, his tummy and chest heaving with sobs. The ginger root already felt like a fire in his bottom, and it was getting worse! How could Tichy say it was harmless? It fucking wasn't! With another pitiable moan, his body shaking, Marek lowered his head to the dog bowl again and tried to eat. The food again fought him, vexing him, frustrating the child beyond measure.

"Ohhhhoooooowooooo," Marek sobbed, as his body shook with pain. He was shaking now, his forehead beaded with sweat as he chased the little clods of food around the bowl, moaning and crying as he tried to lip and tongue the errant morsels into his mouth.

Tichy went from semi- to fully erect as he watched the boy struggle with his frustrating, challenging task. The man knew he was running a risk that by the time the boy was midway through sucking him, the worst of the ginger burn would have passed. He wanted the boy to believe that the pain from the ginger root just kept growing and growing, endlessly. But he doubted Marek would be able to tell; with all his stress and anxiety, he wasn't likely to notice the pain abating until it had subsided substantially.

Finally, Marek had eaten most of the little clods – even the ones that had escaped onto the carpet, which actually made it easier to capture and wolf down. The bowl still had streaks and little crumbs in it, a crushed bean here and there, some scattered green flakes from the broccoli florets. It was mostly clean, but it wasn't gleaming. The rest of the food was dried and stuck to the metallic surface, and Marek couldn't seem to dislodge it with his tongue. He looked up at the man once again, tears of frustration and pain in his eyes.

"Mr. Tichy, c-can I please be done?" he begged the man in a high-pitched voice of despair.

Tichy knew that this was exactly the time when the ginger burn would begin to fade. If he acted mercifully now, he could keep up the illusion of it only ever getting worse, thereby keeping the boy abnormally motivated by the threat of this punishment in the future. In a way, it was a genius save. Although the man had near-complete control over the vulnerable boy here at the internat, he still had to be careful about marking him up too much during his punishment sessions. Ginger root hurt like hell but left no visible marks or injuries on the boy, and Tichy wanted to keep the threat of it as a painful, incentivizing punishment viable with Marek for as long as he could.

"Face into the bowl, puppy dog. And raise your ass as high as you can get it," he said, quite intentionally not answering either yes or no to let the moment of fear, pain, and uncertainty stretch on a moment longer. He got off his chair, squatted by Marek and gripped the ginger root's base.

Marek thought he detected something in the man's voice – a hint of mercy, a suggestion of accommodation. With a gasp of effort and a moan of pain, he lowered his face deep into the bowl and raised his butt up as high as it could go – as if almost wagging it, offering it to the man for whatever he might do with it. The pain in his rectum was simply agonizing.

"You will not leave leftovers, other than obvious stuff like bone and sinew and similar, on your plate," boomed Tichy. "Not just today and tomorrow, but until I decide to lift the ban. If you breach it, you'll be in trouble with me again. Understood?"

In terrible pain and with difficulty, the boy kept his face in the bowl and his ass up in the air as the man barked his orders about eating and food.

"Yes, sir," Marek gasped into the bowl as he vowed to himself that he would never leave so much as a scrap of food on his plate ever again. It simply wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth this pain.

"That and no wanking, you little pervert, are the only two rules that'll continue after I'm done with your ass tomorrow," he said and pulled the ginger out of Marek's butt, discarding it into the bin. He intentionally didn't phrase it as a question, something Marek could agree with or not. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and Marek had begged, so Tichy had let him off, or at least he made it seem like he did, but at a price he simply stated without negotiation. It was something he had set his mind on anyway, but whether Marek would realize that or not was another matter. Now it could easily feel like just another consequence of the boy wimping out of one of his punishments yet again.

Marek listened further to the man's instructions about masturbation, trying to stay motionless, but the pain made his buttocks sway back and forth as if guided by the breeze.

"Yes, sir," he gasped again, his voice muffled, strained, and pain filled. With a further, grateful, gasp of relief, Marek felt as the man extracted the burning ember from his rectum. The pain didn't go away right away; in fact, it didn't even diminish. But Marek knew that now it couldn't get any worse, and he was hopeful that it would start to get better soon.

"Now this had better be the best blowjob I ever had, with only gratitude and thankfulness in your eyes for saving you all that time with the ginger still in your ass. Your eyes will make active, alert eye contact," huffed Tichy. "No bucket today. Don't even think about losing all that food or I swear they'll have to drag what's left of you into the nurse's office on a stretcher when I'm done with you," warned Tichy darkly as he sat, spread his legs, and nodded. It was blowjob time.

Marek lifted his teary face from the bowl and knee-walked toward the man. His anus hurt terribly, but he found himself so grateful to the man that he was almost eager to begin the blowjob, lest Tichy change his mind and reinsert the ginger in his ass.

It was his eagerness that undid him. As he knee-walked awkwardly toward the man with his arms bound tightly behind his back, Marek stumbled. Unable to stop his momentum, he fell, his face hitting the man's thigh as the top of his head struck the man's balls. The boy ended up continuing to the floor, hitting chest- and face-first between the man's feet. A feeling of utter doom washed over him as he immediately twisted his body trying to rise to his knees.

"Ugh!!!" Tichy grunted, even though the brunt of the impact was into his thigh and his manhood only hurt briefly, in a dull sort of way. He was more surprised than injured by the accident.

"Ježíši Kriste [Author's Note: "Jesus Christ!"], kid!" Tichy huffed, then bit his lip. "I mean, Kurva drát! [Author's Note: "Fucking hell!"] he chuckled, briefly and forcefully, realizing that he had replaced a politically problematic expletive with one that was highly inappropriate to use in front of a young student. But then again, worrying about what was age- and otherwise-appropriate in front of the Hurta boy was more than a little absurd at this point.

Tichy slipped off the chair and pulled Marek up to his knees, quickly examining him for damage. It was lucky, in a way, that the boy had rammed into him, which took a lot of force off the fall. He had a slight, mild carpet burn on his forehead and tip of his nose and another one near his right shoulder. But otherwise he seemed unhurt, his teeth still in place, not even a nosebleed.

As he tried to twist and struggle his way to his knees, Marek was certain that there would be hell to pay for what had just happened. He had hit the man accidentally, but his fall had been hard, and he thought he might have gotten Tichy right in his balls – with his head of all things, which was not good luck. Tichy didn't put up with that kind of failure, and if Marek had hurt him, even inadvertently, the boy was certain he would be made to hurt a whole lot worse on the comeback.

To Marek's surprise, however, the man quickly helped him up, and rather than hit him, Tichy seemed to be checking him for damage. Marek's face had hit hard, but he was fine; the man's gentle touch and apparent concern was so surprising that Marek wondered whether it was just the calm before the storm. He half expected his beating to begin as soon as the man verified that he was unhurt. How ironic that would be.

"Tys mi dal, pako!" [Author's Note: Roughly, "You gave me a shock, dumb-ass."] Tichy huffed. "You in one piece?" he sounded a bit worried. Then his face contorted in a smile. "I need you in one piece, for the match, to start with," he said amusedly, before faking a frown. "Right in my balls, too – ouch!" he snorted as he playfully ruffled the boy's hair.

The man did seem concerned, truly, and when he made a joke about Saturday's big game, Marek felt relieved. Remarkably, considering that Marek had nearly emasculated him, Tichy didn't appear to be angry. He even tousled the boy's hair, eliciting the second half-smile from the boy in as many days.

"Let me untie that rope before you kill us both, how about that?" Tichy suggested and removed Marek's bondage in a hurry – again proving that even though the binds were firm, careful, and thorough, with the use of a couple of safety knots it could be undone speedily. Some 10 seconds or so later, all that was left of the boy's bondage was the skip-rope pattern imprinted on Marek's upper arms.

"Move your arms, up, out. Shoulders okay? Ribs okay?" he examined Marek some more, making sure the boy didn't sustain any significant injury in the fall. It was only from knee-walking height, of course, and onto a carpeted floor, so broken bones were extremely unlikely, but the kid did have some momentum as he fell; Tichy sure could feel the effects of it, especially on his thigh.

Marek again had the use of his arms, and he moved them around and rolled his shoulders as the man suggested. This was all very unexpected. The boy couldn't help but wonder why Tichy was being so nice. He even asked if Marek was okay.

"Yes, sir, I'm fine," Marek replied with relief, as he wondered what in the world was going on. He had stumbled in his haste and nearly de-balled the man with his head, and Tichy was worried about him? The man absolutely hated him. In fact, Tichy seemed to enjoy hurting him, so why exactly would he care if Marek hurt himself? It made zero sense to the 12-year-old, but he certainly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Kurva. I need a smoke. And you, my friend, have a whole new challenge ahead of you," he chuckled as he looked down at his cock. It was totally limp and shriveled, down to barely even four inches [10 cm] in size, mostly from the shock of what had just happened and the pragmatic train of thought that his brain had switched to. Tichy lit a Startka and grinned at the boy.

"Don't just stare, suck."

Marek glanced down at Tichy's un-sucked penis. He rarely saw the man flaccid, and to see it that way almost made Tichy look more human, almost kind of normal. But the boy had a job to do, and, feeling more than a bit like he had dodged a bullet, he carefully maneuvered between the man's legs, grasped the man's shaft, lipped Tichy's limp member into his mouth, and began to suck.

Tichy was quite a bit distracted. The kid's carpet burns were minor and would fade soon enough, but still, the man had been lucky there. If the boy had fallen more to the side and cracked his skull open on the edge of the desk or smashed his mouth and broken some teeth, there undoubtedly would have been questions raised. Tichy couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. His whole operation – years and years and years of abusing boys, none nearly as intensely as what he was putting Marek through, but nonetheless, years of stuff he had gotten away with so far – could have been placed in jeopardy by Marek's fall. Scores of young mouths had sucked his cock literally thousands of times since his arrival at the internat. He'd used dozens of tight boy asses another thousand or more times and enjoyed filling them with his cum. But if he had to take Marek to a hospital and the boy tattled, he'd be fucked, fucked, and fucked some more. His reputation, temperament, and charm meant just about everything here at the school, and Tichy knew that within the confines of the internat he could probably push back even against Skala, deny the accusations, and even demand an apology. But outside of the internat, Tichy was a small fish, and he was painfully aware of that.

Even with Marek's warm mouth fixed around his shaft, and even with the bluish smoke of the Startka filling Tichy's lungs, inhale after deep inhale, his cock remained, at least initially, stubbornly flaccid. It wouldn't fill and swell. It wouldn't point upwards by itself, not even lazily and half-heartedly like it usually did on the second go after a vigorous boy fuck. Right now, it was just four inches [10 cm] of soft, squidgy flesh, all wrapped up in too much skin, not even as hot to the touch as it normally was. This was going to take some time. Thank fuck he wasn't in a hurry.

Tichy leaned back, reached out and poured himself a small vodka and immediately knocked it back, shuddering from such a big gulp as he tried to coax himself out of his funk. As the warmth of the liquor spread through his chest and belly, the man inhaled a deep breath, took one more puff of his cigarette, sighed, and relaxed. As he did so, his cock finally started to respond to being in a hard-working mouth of a cute young boy. Gradually, somewhat reluctantly, his member grew and stiffened.

Marek's head was still spinning a little bit at all the recent developments that, even against impossible odds, nevertheless had seemed to favor him. The man had let him off the hook in regard to cleaning the dog bowl down to the last fleck of food; a singular act of mercy that had probably saved the boy several minutes of agony in his butt as he chased down every broccoli sprig and licked at every hint of discoloration he could find on the surface of the bowl. Marek had only dared to ask about being done with the dog-bowl part of his punishment, not the rest of it, but the man had actually removed the ginger root at that point, saving him what would have been another 15 or 20 minutes of excruciating pain as he tried to suck the man to orgasm. The boy wasn't even sure he would have been able to do it; the pain had been that bad. Then, Marek had been a complete klutz and nearly emasculated the man, and for that, he had received not a beating, but was instead untied as the man checked him over for injuries. For a moment there, it had almost seemed like he cared about Marek's well-being. What was going on? Who had taken Tichy away and replaced him with this guy?

Marek's mind was spinning as he licked at the man's foreskin and tried to cajole his penis into erecting. He'd never seen Tichy like this. Usually the man's cock was already rock-hard before he put it in his mouth, and if it weren't, it got there soon thereafter. But the man's cock was staying stubbornly soft, as if Tichy himself were fighting arousal. Maybe he was, just to prolong Marek's efforts. But that didn't seem to be the case, nor did it make any sense now that the ginger root was out of his butt. Wasn't the whole purpose of a blowjob to cum? The boy was mystified at the man's lack of arousal.

It took a while and a lot of tongue work, but eventually Marek felt the man's shaft start to plump in his grasp, the foreskin starting to ease back from the glans in his mouth. Tichy was starting to erect. Marek redoubled his efforts and started a gentle up-and-down bobbing motion with his head and mouth, still trying to coax the spongy member to full hardness.

His twinge of anxiety having mostly abated, Tichy slowly slipped back into his usual self.

"Don't forget, this had better be the best blowjob ever, with cute, lovey-dovey eyes and everything else, or you might find yourself with the ginger back up your ass and this time, no plan B!" he said, but his tone was more amused and cocky than stern, as he had vaguely intended to sound. At least he could focus on the fact now that Marek was trying awfully hard with his tongue even as he started to bob his head. It felt freaking amazing. The kid was good.

Once Tichy went partly erect, it didn't actually take much longer for him to get a full hard-on, and soon, Marek was sucking on the familiar old seven inches [18 cm] of firm, hot stiffness that he had learned to take and contend with, one way or another, all week. Tichy looked down to watch the boy perform and to make eye contact, and he smiled. This was more like it.

"Well, I think you have the idea now," he declared, almost as if his lack of arousal had been the boy's fault, "so how about putting those hands back behind your back?" he suggested.

The man's instruction came, and the boy immediately placed his arms behind his back and interlaced his fingers. Now that sounded more like the Tichy he knew.

"Mm-hmm, nice. There's a good wimp," smiled the man.

Marek ignored the man's taunts as he continued to service him with his mouth. No matter what Tichy said or what he did, Marek had only the balance of today's session and one more tomorrow to be free of the man for good. A deal was a deal – Tichy had reminded him of that many, many times – and Marek had agreed to one full week of sessions, no more, no less. Other than one day when he had panicked and fled to the gymnasium – a mistake for which Marek had paid with his virginity – the boy had fully kept his end of the bargain. Tichy would have to keep his, too. So, there was only one more day to go after this one. Tichy could taunt away, for all Marek cared. His time was coming to an end.

"Slow down," commanded Tichy. "Remember, you could be doing this in a hurry with the ginger up your ass, but you aren't, so be grateful, be thorough and focus on quality, rather than speed. That tongue work is good; keep it up. I want some throat, too, but obviously the no-puking rule is still very much in effect. And keep those eyes up, looking at me. That's cute. Like a good little cocksucker. And when I cum this time, don't just gulp it down hungrily. Keep it in your mouth to show me what a good little bitch you are," he demanded, clearly fully recovered now to his cocky, demanding, sadistic self.

Marek had forgotten the eye contact again. He knew that it didn't pay to violate Tichy's rules, but he always had trouble with that one. He hated looking at Tichy as he sucked him. It made the boy feel like a cheap whore, and he didn't know how to look, either. Should he stare at the man with hatred in his eyes, or should he pretend that he didn't care? That would be silly, since he did very much care – he cared about not having to do whatever the man was making him do. Should he hold the man's gaze, or pretend to look at the bridge of his nose? Marek had figured out that if he focused on the bridge of the man's nose, it was almost as if he wasn't looking at him, and Tichy seemed to be none the wiser.

The boy brought his blue eyes up and fixed them on the man's, keeping careful eye contact as he sucked. Tichy was fully erect now, or certainly mostly so; the only remaining questions concerned how long would it take him to cum and what the man was going to make him do after that, because Marek was under no illusion that his day would be anywhere close to over after the dog-bowl eating session and a single blowjob.

"Slow down some more," instructed Tichy. "Smooth, continual motion now. No jerking, no bobbing like a jack-in-the-box. Eyes. Tongue. Move it. I want to feel it, both on the way down and the whole way back up. There. It's going to take some time at this pace, so make it worth my while."

At the man's command, Marek slowed down his lip and tongue work. It was true that he wasn't in a hurry, and while he hated the thought of what he was being made to do, there were worse things than sucking the man's cock. Over the past week of his torment, Marek had been slippered, caned, smacked, slapped, forced to eat from a dog bowl, leaned against a cabinet by his face, raped, sodomized, forced to lick streaks of his own shit off the man's cock, and worst of all, forced to eat out the man's ass more than once. Compared to many of those things if not all of them, giving Tichy a blowjob – unthinkable as it may have been only a week ago – was a lot more palatable to the boy than many of the alternatives.

Tichy didn't really mean to prolong things just to be cruel this time; he just wanted to savor an exceptional blowjob and make it last. The way Marek was sucking him right now was a marked improvement in quality and skill from what he was used to. Tichy usually had some kid either trying to get him to cum quickly just to have it over with or sucking mechanically on an already spent cock with a degree of resignation, often while kneeling out of sight under Tichy's desk. There were only so many ways to coerce a decent blowjob out of a reluctant boy without hurting him, and there were limits to what Tichy could do to incentivize the other boys, most of whom who lived close to the school and had normal parents who visited them from time to time and weren't psychotic.

None of those factors constrained him when it came to Marek, however, and Tichy had taken full advantage of the kid's vulnerability. Was it just a coincidence that the kid he had treated more severely than any other in his 10-year stint at school – by a huge factor, actually – was also giving him one of the best blowjobs he had ever received, and that after less than a week of practice? Tichy thought not. Marek had simply been given the proper incentive to perform properly, including an especially brutal caning, and the man gladly would repeat that lesson if the boy's effort ever started to flag. After all, he had brought the kid to the school to exploit and abuse, and that's exactly what he planned to do. So far, everything had gone perfectly according to plan when it came to the Glass King's hapless little grandson.

Fifteen minutes into the process of being sucked, Tichy started to leak pre, but he knew he could hold out for a while yet, and he decided that he would. He relaxed, breathed deeply, and worked to prevent the tension of an orgasm from building up in him too soon. He didn't even command Marek to go deeper, because he really wanted to fill the boy's mouth with his cum this time and see it there, and he simply wasn't in the mood to beat the kid half to death if he vomited up all the food he had just eaten from the dog bowl.

Minutes ticked by. Even with the metallic slickness of his pre all over Marek's tongue now, Tichy still wasn't quite at the point of tensing up and being rushed over the edge, even though he was aroused as hell, tingling all over and riding a long, slow, and gradual wave of pleasure. He didn't bother with instructions or anything that would make this feel more like a punishment to the boy. It felt good – excellent in fact, one of the best sensations on his cock in a long while – and he decided simply to relax and enjoy it. His Startka was long finished and his glass of vodka stared at him emptily, but he didn't reach to light up again or fill up the glass. He half closed his eyes, keeping just enough of a view of the boy to ensure that he obediently kept up eye contact or some semblance of it – Tichy wasn't testing it precisely enough to discover the bridge-of-the-nose trick just yet – and let himself be lost in the sensation and experience of it.

With his arms behind his back, Marek continued to suck and pleasure the man's cock with his mouth and throat. Tichy's cock was leaking fluid and the boy could taste it on his tongue. He sucked on, knowing that the man should be getting close. Tichy wasn't forcing him to gag this time or giving him any instructions at all, so Marek simply sucked at his own pace, using more tongue than usual, sweeping it over the man's bulbous glans and piss slit, then using it to caress the man's shaft as he bobbed lower, creating friction with his lips. He kept at this for a while, his eyes focusing on Tichy's despite himself. The man seemed content. In fact, he looked almost sleepy, and there was no real sign that he was approaching orgasm or preparing to cum.

Marek knew what the man wanted and expected. He had sucked Tichy enough times by now to know what gave the man the most pleasure, even if Tichy seemed to be in a relaxed and mellow mood this afternoon and was not threatening the boy with some dire punishment if he didn't perform to the man's expectations. Marek made a slight adjustment to his kneeling position to afford his head a better angle as he prepared to take the man deeper in his mouth and throat. Then, steeling himself against his own gag reflex, the boy plunged lower on Tichy's shaft, taking five of his seven inches as the man's cockhead entered his throat for the first time this afternoon.

Marek winced a bit from the pain as he swallowed the man's cock. His throat still felt sore and inflamed from the deep-plunging exercise from yesterday that had spared him extra cuts of the cane, but he ignored the discomfort and concentrated on keeping the man's cock in his throat, which spasmed around the glans as the boy fought the instinct to gag. Withdrawing now, he swirled the man's cockhead with his tongue as he grabbed some breaths through his nose before plunging deep once again – even deeper now – taking nearly six inches of the man's shaft into his mouth, then holding, holding, holding before withdrawing all but the man's glans from between his lips.

The boy's next plunge nearly brought his nose into contact with Tichy's abdomen as the man's cock bottomed out in Marek's throat. It was his deepest throating of the man's cock yet today. The boy held it there, counting silently to himself, as his throat spasmed and his stomach clenched in complaint. One, two, three, four seconds the boy remained motionless, before adding a fifth, and then slowly withdrawing up the man's shaft. He added more tongue at the top, swirling and licking, teasing the glans, as he prepared to throat the man once again. All the while, Marek's hands remained behind his back, just as Tichy had instructed.

Tichy was enthralled. This wasn't just a good blowjob, this was an excellent, outstanding blowjob. There were other boys at the internat who had been sucking Tichy's cock for nearly four years and who still couldn't give a blowjob anywhere near as good as this one. Of course, the satisfaction that the boy fellating him right now was the grandson of the infamous Glass King served only to heighten Tichy's pleasure. The fact that this lean, athletic boy who was by no means a pushover under normal circumstances had folded like a house of cards under Tichy's powerful, focused pressure made the man's enjoyment even more thorough and intense. But regardless of who was giving it, this was an amazing blowjob. Marek's tongue was working hard, and the boy was obediently, even willingly, abusing his throat all on his own, and not just a little bit, either.

Marek couldn't help but let his mind wander as he sucked. He had only this punishment session and the one tomorrow to go, and he hoped that Tichy would not be too hard on him either day because of the big soccer match on Saturday. It was merely an exhibition game, but it was a game imbued with tradition and rivalry that the boy knew Tichy, the staff, in fact the entire school population wanted to win. It was actually two games, with Marek playing in the undercard match for first- and second-year boys, but Tichy had already announced him as the starting center for that game, and center was the most important position on the pitch. After Marek's game, the older boys would square off in the main event, which would be watched by nearly every student and faculty member at the school.

Tichy tensed slightly when Marek again swallowed him nearly all the way. He didn't want to be puked on and he didn't want puke on his freshly cleaned carpet. The boy had just eaten a big bowl of slop, and that mixed with bile and stomach acid would be a fucking nightmare to get out of the old, pale grey carpet. But Marek wasn't puking and didn't even seem to be gagging all that much, so Tichy relaxed again and just enjoyed the ministrations of his little boy whore. He lost track of time, and even afterwards, he was unable to put a specific number on it, but the blowjob ended up lasting way more than half an hour. Not a full hour, but at least 45 minutes, he was pretty sure.

It seemed to the boy that he had been sucking Tichy for a long time, but that was mostly okay with Marek. The boy remained grateful to the man for ending the ginger-root punishment, so he continued to pleasure the man's cock to the best of his ability, taking him deep in his mouth and throat. He took nearly all of Tichy's cock every 15-20 seconds or so, using the intervening time to please the man with his tongue while taking some breaths through his nose and settling his stomach down. Marek knew that he had to be careful not to gag on the man's cock. There was no toilet bowl between Tichy's legs to collect Marek's vomit, nor was the red bucket strategically positioned between his feet. The boy knew that he would have to do his absolute best not to gag and defile the man's carpet, especially with the fresh, new contents of his stomach that were there as a punishment for not eating.

Just as Marek's mouth, jaw, and throat were starting to get sore, Tichy started to show signs of his impending orgasm. Often, as he was preparing to cum, the man would blow a last breath of smoke toward to ceiling and put down his cigarette. He'd make a final, subtle adjustment to his position on the chair. He'd give a little sigh of pleasure. His cock would also telegraph its readiness by tightening in the boy's mouth. Tichy's balls would retract as they prepared to expel their contents. When the man started cumming, he invariably made some sort of sound, usually either a grunt, a hitched breath, or a gasp.

Tichy was giving off several of those signs now, as his orgasm built gradually, in undulating, semi-predictable, delicious, successive waves. He could really feel it stirring and brewing in the pit of his belly, in his balls and all over his cock, with a tingling sensation up and down his spine and all over his back that gave him goosebumps.

Marek could read those signs by now, so he prepared himself for the deluge he knew was coming. The man had given Marek specific instructions for his cum. This time, the boy was to hold it in his mouth and not swallow. With his arms still firmly behind his back, Marek knelt up a little higher and rapidly upped the pace of his bobs, working to bring the man to climax with a crescendo of movement and friction. It seemed to work, as moments later the boy heard the tell-tale intake and exhale of breaths that marked the arrival of Tichy's orgasm.

When Tichy finally came, it wasn't with a curt grunt this time but with a deep, open-mouthed breath, a loud, extended gasp as the air went in, and a loud, powerful puff of air that left his body simultaneously with the first thick squirt of cum into Marek's mouth, followed by another heavenly squirt and another after that, each one of them as big if not bigger than one of Marek's entire loads.

"Keep it in your mouth," huffed Tichy with his eyes closed in the pleasure of it all, not quite as soon as it started cumming but soon enough for Marek to collect a good mouthful even if he forgot initially; there really was lots of cum this time around, despite what he had deposited earlier on Marek's food.

Marek kept his mouth in place, moving subtly and bobbing only shallowly now as he coaxed the man's ejaculate from his balls. Tichy's cum was a familiar taste to the boy, but this time, instead of swallowing the protein down, Marek concentrated on gathering and storing it in his mouth. He ingested little of it, and soon had a healthy mouthful of spunk as he awaited the man's further instructions.

"Slip off. Keep it all in your mouth. Look up. Show me, little bitch," Tichy smiled. "Show me that mouthful. Close. Wait," he smiled. "Show me again. Look up, open, swirl it over your tongue. Close. Wait. Open again." Tichy made sure this time that every single taste bud in Marek's mouth was thoroughly coated and saturated with his spunk. "Close and wait," he added, clearly quite amused to let the moment stretch on.

For the next little while, Marek displayed the load and swirled the cum around in his mouth for the man's enjoyment. The boy tilted his head and opened his mouth carefully to show the man, then closed, tasting the fluid as he swirled it all around with his tongue. He opened his mouth again and swirled some more with his tongue. He could truly taste the bitter, musky essence of the man's spunk on his tongue. All the while, Marek kept his hands laced behind his back as he knelt between the disciplinarian's legs.

Tichy caressed Marek's hair, smiling at him in a patronizing sort of way, teasing around his ear, scratching him gently, petting him almost like a pet dog, and just letting the moment stretch on and on. He let Marek look up at him with his mouth open, full of cum and quickly filling with saliva until it started to overflow at the corners of the boy's lips. Tichy enjoyed the sight and hummed softly with contented approval.

Marek continued to kneel before the man with his mouth full as Tichy stroked his hair and ears. He didn't understand why Tichy seemed to like doing that. There was nothing in it for the man and no reason to do it, but he still did it all the time. The boy had learned that having his hair and ears caressed by Tichy did not mean that the man was going to be nice to him, or even that he was in a good mood. It was just a thing he did, and for the life of him, Marek couldn't ascertain the reason. The petting and stroking seemed to be more of the humiliation that Tichy had promised him. It made him feel more than a little bit like a dog. It occurred to him then that the man also made him crawl like a dog every day and had also made him eat from a dog bowl, probably for the same reason.

Finally, after several minutes, Marek was permitted to swallow the diluted remnants of Tichy's load. He did so without hesitation, sending the man's cum into his stomach in several gulps along with a large quantity of his own drool and saliva. The boy winced at the bitter taste as twin rivulets of the liquid escaped the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin.

Tichy was fully aware that Marek would spill more as he closed his full mouth before he could gulp it down and he pulled out another handkerchief from his replenished stash, offering it to Marek to clean himself up with. Then he grabbed Marek's chin and forced eye-contact with the boy.

"No more skipped or unfinished meals," Tichy said decidedly. "The match is on Saturday; you'll need all your strength and energy."

Marek flinched in surprise and fear as the man suddenly grasped him by his chin. The boy listened and even gave a little half nod as the man instructed him about eating. After his lesson today, the boy did not plan to miss any more meals. Not eating was a very stupid way to get in trouble. He nodded again as the man mentioned Saturday's soccer game and the need for him to be strong for it. Marek was fully in agreement with that.

"Now," said Tichy with a grin as he reached for the ubiquitous tub of cream and smeared it on his cock, "turn away from me, climb onto my lap, backwards. Left foot on left knee, right foot on right knee, hold onto the side of the desk for balance – no more falls, please! A squatting position," he explained.

With a sinking feel of shame and a pit suddenly forming in his stomach, Marek rose to his feet and somewhat awkwardly climbed up on the man for the next round of his humiliation. Tichy was going to fuck his ass again, this time in a new position, with Marek balanced on his knees like a little monkey. The boy was well past the point of giving any opposition to the man, however. He knew he had only one more day to go with his punishment. Tichy could do what he liked until then and then it would all be over. So far, the man appeared to have been true to his word about keeping the punishment strictly between the two of them, and while Marek knew he would never be able to erase the memory of what had happened to him over the course of the last week, once it ended he was hopeful that he would eventually be able to stop obsessing and worrying about it.

The man helped Marek up and into position, then guided his butt until the boy's anus was right against the tip of his cock. He squeezed a bit of lube directly against the boy's anus and straight into Marek's butt. Tichy wondered if he might still feel some warmth and tingle on his cock from the remnants of the ginger root when he fucked the boy, though thought it was unlikely to be to an unpleasant sensation by now. It occurred to him that a little tingle might even feel kind of nice on his cock as he buggered the boy yet again.

Marek tensed as the man applied the cold cream to his anus. He still felt abraded and burned there from the ginger root. The cream helped where it was applied, but he was fearful that the inside of his butt hole would be another story. The ginger had burned there agonizingly for several long minutes. He also knew that since Tichy had already cum once this afternoon, the coming fuck was likely to take a while. Then he remembered that the man must already have cum twice, as there also had been the load on his food. There was no doubt that he would have a very tender bottom when it was all over.

"You do it," Tichy said, as he grabbed his cock near the root to keep it pointed at Marek's butt. "Lower yourself on it. Sink down on it, all the way. I want to feel those cheeks on my thighs." If Tichy had lost any of his erection after cumming, it was now definitely back with a vengeance. His cock had been hard as rock and straining ever since he had teased and humiliated the boy during their extended cumplay.

With his hands braced on the desk before him and an unhappy look on this face, Marek lowered his hips as Tichy positioned his cockhead at the boy's hole. Steeling himself, and wanting to get it over with, the 12-year-old emitted a soft grunt of determination and impaled himself on the man's penis, driving it past his muscle's resistance and into his rectum. The boy exhaled a held breath as he slowly lowered himself without stopping until his buttocks contacted the man's groin. It hurt and burned, and the boy grimaced in pain, but it didn't hurt as much as it had the first couple of times, and Marek could at least take solace in that.

Tichy was surprised; he hadn't expected Marek to go all the way down in one motion. He imagined the boy would rock and undulate himself gently on his erection, bit by little bit, but Marek had surprised him. It was just another way in which the boy took to cock like fish to water without even realizing it. The man sighed in pleasure. His breath was still tinged with that strong, black coffee he had drunk earlier. This was quite an athletic position for the boy. Certainly, even just staying put and impaled was a bit of a workout for Marek, although less so once he had sunk all the way down.

"Mm-hmm. Good. And now move. Up and down. Work those legs," demanded Tichy.

It was a difficult position for Marek to maintain, but Tichy had been extremely specific and had arranged the boy exactly as he wanted him to be. The only way Marek could think to lift off the man was by performing a kind of crouching sit up. Leaning forward, using his abdominal muscles and his legs, the boy lifted his bottom off the man's groin, then lowered it down again. He then repeated the process, up and down, up and down. It took some effort to do the lifting-up part. By the time Marek had completed 10 up-and-down cycles, he already was starting to breathe heavier and his muscles were starting to feel tired.

"Oh, yeah," said Tichy whose cock twitched from how firmly it was being squeezed. It took a lot of muscle flexing for the boy to lift himself up, and when he did his anus clenched hard around Tichy's cock, gripping tightly as it massaged Tichy's full length. Watching the boy's amazing, strong, sinewy, athletic legs rise and fall, all of his muscles so taut, the view of it all as his ass slipped down and almost all the way back up, was oh-so-amazing and satisfying. Fucking Marek Hurta in his little ass was an absolute pleasure.

"You can hold the chair, by the way, but do expect to work up a good sweat doing this. You're going to get me off with your effort. Your work. Pace yourself or go fast, it's your choice. But you're not getting off until my spunk is up your ass," emphasized Tichy.

Marek was relieved when the man allowed him to use the arms of the chair for leverage, as he wasn't sure how long his leg and abdominal muscles alone would allow him to continue the motion Tichy had demanded. Removing his hands from the desk, he placed them on the armrests. Now with the help of his arms, the boy resumed raising and lowering his bottom on Tichy's cock. It was easier to do it this way, as his triceps were now sharing the strain with his legs.

Marek started to pant as he worked the man's erection. His bottom stung from the remnants of the ginger root, and he wondered, idly, if Tichy felt any of that on his cock. Probably not, because the man had coated it with the cream, but it gave the boy a little pleasure to think about it. He imagined Tichy, standing up and hopping about in pain as his penis burned like a torch. Now that would be funny to see, and Marek smiled at the mental image of it. That caused him to lose concentration for a moment.

"Don't slack off," chided Tichy, but it came out almost like a chuckle, a good-natured sort of comment. "We both know it all fits inside you, so you'll be going down all the way on it each time," he clarified. "Especially if you could do it on the first try, there's no point in going less deep now. Now do it, nice and intense!" he demanded. Tichy was leaning back and couldn't see the boy's cock, so he reached around the boy's hip, trying to see what state it was in. He felt around for it with his hand and smiled as he found the boy semi-hard. Tichy gently, softly stroked the boy's shaft into full hardness and continued to toy with it, slowly, lightly wanking it in a way that wasn't likely to get Marek off, but should be enough to keep him erect, and hopefully, after a while, quite horny and in need.

This was hard work for the boy. Even with the muscles of his arms contributing, the boy's position atop the man made each up-and-down cycle an effort. His triceps flexed as the muscles in his legs corded with effort. Up, down. Up, down. As Tichy reached for his cock, the boy flinched, interrupting his up-and-down rhythm for a moment before resuming. Marek was breathing heavily now, his chest and tummy moving with every deep breath he took. Up, down. Up, down. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead as he concentrated on going even deeper with every thrust. Going deeper meant more effort, however, and more effort caused more heavy breathing and more perspiration to form on the youngster's body. Tichy's office was always too fucking warm, and he never opened the window until it was time for Marek to leave. The boy would have welcomed a breeze right now.

This was different for Tichy, and very intense. Because Marek couldn't relax in the same way as if he were just being passively fucked, his ass felt way tighter and far more stimulating in every phase and point of the penetration, and Tichy decided he liked it, even though he normally enjoyed being the penetrator, the one in control of the depth and pace. This was a whole new sensation on his cock, and it was bringing him towards an orgasm faster than he'd anticipated. The added satisfaction of having Marek huffing and puffing and starting to drip with sweat from the effort helped, too.

Marek was working on his breathing as he undulated atop the man. Each time he bottomed out on the man's groin he exhaled a forced puff of air, and each time he rose again, he panted in a deep, new breath. Up-and-breathe, down-and-exhale. Up-and-breathe, down-and-exhale. This felt like a gym workout to him, which almost made sense that it was Tichy, the school's gym instructor, driving him. For all his fears concerning the man, the boy still enjoyed gym, seemingly as much as he ever had even though Tichy still ran the show. There had been three gym sessions since his punishment sessions began, and the man had never once been unfair to Marek or singled him out unfairly for anything. It was Marek who had slipped up, once calling the man "sir" in front of the other boys, eliciting titters and laughs at his seemingly overly formal deference. Little did they know.

Up-and-breathe, down-and-exhale. Up-and-breathe, down-and-exhale. The boy kept at his work, even as he began to wonder just how long Tichy would make this last. There was no way that he could keep this pace up for as long as even a normal blowjob, much less one of the longer ones that the man seemed to favor. Then again, there was the nice feeling in his penis where the man's hand was stroking him. It felt good, even if the boy were nowhere close to orgasming and wasn't sure he even could, considering the effort it took to keep impaling himself on the man's shaft.

Tichy thought it was a good rhythm, and there was lots of satisfaction for him in making the boy work so hard at it, his muscles tense and tired, with sweat covering his skin and running down from his temples in rivulets. Marek was going to feel this tonight, and tomorrow, not just the soreness in his butt, but in his calves and thighs, too; there was no doubt about that. The man supposed he ought to worry about wearing the boy out before the soccer match, but that ship had already sailed. There was no way he was ending this before he came in Marek's ass. It simply felt too good to stop. Anyway, there was nearly a week still to go before the big game, and 12-year-old boys recovered quickly, after all.

Tichy sat back and let Marek do the hard work, entertaining himself by toying with the boy's erection. Squeezing and stroking, jerking, alternating speeds and firmness and style of the stroke, but pretty much continually giving it some stimulation. He kept his grip low and kept checking the boy's balls with his little finger. If they got taut and pre-orgasmic, rising clinging to the root of the boy's cock, he slowed down and eased off.

Marek was tiring, now, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the pace much longer. On top of that, his anus was burning, either from the after-effects of the ginger root, or from the lack of a true lubricant, or both. His cheeks were also being irritated by the constant rubbing against the man's pubic hair, which was dampened by his sweat. For those reasons, he was hoping that Tichy would cum soon. For now, though, he kept up the pace, breathing, sweating, and working hard as he impaled himself on the man's cock over and over while he wondered how Tichy could possibly be holding out this long.

The man's hand on his cock felt good, but it wasn't at all like the last time. Although Marek's penis was hard, he was exerting himself too much to be able to enjoy the pleasure that Tichy was trying to give him. Nor was he feeling that tingling sensation deep inside him. The last time they had done it this way, with Marek on top, the man's cock had brushed against that spot inside him that felt so good. Marek had even been able to position himself in such a way that the man's cock rubbed the spot nearly every time he lowered himself. This time, he couldn't seem to find the spot at all. It was like it no longer was there. In addition, the last time they had done this, Marek had been able to hump the man's hand with every thrust. This time, however, the man controlled that entirely, and the sensation just wasn't the same.

With a grunt, the man came. Marek couldn't quite see Tichy this time, and it was hard to feel the very slight twitches in the man's shaft when it was so deep inside the boy's ass. When Tichy let go of the boy's dick, grunted, and squirted a hot, sticky load up his bottom, it seemed to come on quite suddenly, surprising the boy. Marek sat down hard on the man's cock as Tichy came deep inside him. The boy was exhausted and breathing hard as he let the man finish. His orgasm had come not a minute too soon, as the muscles of Marek's upper arms and legs were shot. He was shot. He felt like he had just finished a soccer practice with extra running involved, although his muscles wouldn't be nearly this sore if that were true. He was wet with sweat and needed a shower. He hoped that after two consecutive orgasms, Tichy might let him go for the day, but he really didn't expect that to be the case.

"Hmmm. Good. Get off. And clean me up, the wimp way," Tichy demanded casually. Once he had claimed territory, like he had yesterday by making Marek suck his cock after he fucked the boy's ass, he wasn't about to cede it back. "Be thorough. Take your time."

The dreaded command came, and Marek lifted his body one more time before sliding off the man's lap to his now-familiar position between his legs. The boy knew that cleaning Tichy's cock "the wimp way" meant using his mouth and tongue, but when he looked at Tichy's glistening, softening penis, there was literally a ring of streaky color all around the base of it. The color was a mottled reddish-brown, looking almost like lipstick residue on a drinking glass. Only this wasn't lipstick, and the wet, streaky residue circled the man's entire shaft, forming a band around it about the width of the man's thumb. It looked far, far from palatable.

"Mr. Tichy, can I please wipe it off, first?" Marek begged the man. He desperately did not want to have to lick that mess into his mouth, and he would not make the same mistake he had made before of wimping out and not saying anything. He didn't tell the man the reason why he had asked, but he knew that one downward glance by Tichy would reveal the nature of the problem.

Tichy looked down at his cock, obviously seeing the problem, then looked back at the boy. Marek looked exhausted and desperate. It was abundantly clear that the boy didn't like cleaning shit off the man's cock with his mouth almost as much as the man liked the humiliation of making him do it. Tichy let the pause stretch, wondering if just an extended glare and silence would be enough to get Marek to start cleaning and sucking without the need for the man to repeat the command. How long a pause would it take to achieve that result? It would be amusing to find out how long the kid would hold out before breaking under Tichy's gaze, as the man was nearly certain he eventually would. There was no way that a 12-year-old kid two days removed from a severe caning was going to win a staring contest or a battle of wills with the very man who had caned him and could easily do it again. Tichy also was tempted to bellow at the boy at the top of his lungs to do what he had been fucking told to do just to see the look of terror on his face, but the kid would probably wet himself and make a mess of the freshly-cleaned rug. The situation at hand called for a bit more subtlety than that.

"Hmmmm," Tichy hummed, as if deep in thought. "Not if you're a complete wimp, no," he said contemplatively. "There's only one way for a complete wimp to clean a dirty cock, and that's with his mouth," he added, but in a tone that suggested that he wasn't done talking, and maybe wasn't sure that Marek was a complete wimp after all.

Marek detected a change in Tichy's demeanor and looked up at the man hopefully. Tichy couldn't help but smile inwardly at the naivete and gullibility of young boys. He was rather an expert in manipulating and exploiting the hopes of boys around Marek's age.

"If you take a bet, you can wipe it off as much as you want to before giving it a quick suck," said Tichy. "But here's the bet: You either score two or more goals on Saturday, or you blow every boy on the senior team who's had my cock in his mouth, and I'm not telling you how many that is. If you score two times or more, you win the bet, and you don't have to clean my cock with your mouth or suck anybody else off." He paused to let that sink in for a moment.

"So, Marek, are you a player or a complete wimp?"

Marek's expression went from hopeful, to wary, to dejected as he listened to the man's proposal. Tichy was willing to give the boy an out, but there was a catch, of course. There was always a catch. This time, however, the catch absolutely stunned Marek. Just how many other boys at the school had sucked the man? Marek had always assumed that he wasn't the first, but Tichy made it sound like there were many others. The boy looked absolutely stunned. How many were there, and who were they?

In a way, it was comforting for Marek to know that he wasn't the only one, and that other boys had suffered just like he had suffered over the past week. Tichy had been at the school for years, and as far as Marek knew, the man had absolutely no reason to single Marek out. After all, they boy had never been disrespectful to the man or done anything to incur his personal wrath. Of course, the 12-year-old had no way of knowing that he had been singled out, and that his treatment had been far, far worse than any meted out to the other boys referenced by Tichy.

Tichy sat there and watched Marek's eyes go wide in surprise and cogs turn. As their week of punishment sessions was coming to an end, Tichy had decided to make it clear to the boy that he wasn't alone in servicing the man, and making a bet out of it had seemed like a great opportunity to reveal that little secret. Marek wouldn't have to know that he had had it by far the worst, and that there were many firsts and disgusting extremes with him that Tichy had never done to other boys. But it felt important to make it clear that what had been done to Marek was a thing that that happened before at the school. It was just part of the system, part of the deal. Knowing that would make it harder and scarier for the boy to try to rebel against it or resist. Marek needed to know that it had happened before and that Tichy had gotten away with it for years. An unpopular, isolated, vulnerable young boy like Marek should understand that he wasn't likely to change any of that on his own. In telling him about the other boys, Tichy was relying on the fact that Marek would understand the futility of resisting him.

Tichy's proposal was pretty much a nonstarter for the boy as soon as he had heard it all the way through. Of course, Marek knew that as the starting center, he had by far the best chance on his team to score, and possibly twice or even more in the match, which he had done many times before. But he had no idea how strong the Technoglass team was. The boy was filled with uncertainty. How good was the Technoglass keeper? If the other team was good, and its keeper strong, there was a very real risk of Marek's entire team not scoring at all.

Even if he knew the team wasn't that strong, there was the possibility, however small, that he would be forced to pay up and suck the other boys. Marek was absolutely terrified of anyone finding out what he had been up to with Tichy, and sucking the other boys at his command would end any pretense. Being regarded as a poof here at the school was a fate worse than death as far as he was concerned. The anonymous boy in the bathroom had nearly sent Marek into a tailspin when he had called him a poof and implied that he knew what the boy had been up to with Tichy. Marek had been able to shrug that off – barely – by telling himself that the boy didn't know anything and merely had been taunting him, but it had given Marek a real scare. But sucking other boys from the soccer team? Even if they had been with Tichy, too, there was simply no way he could do that. None.

Marek was so afraid of being discovered as a poof by the other boys that he knew he had to reject the man's offer out of hand. Whether he could score two goals, or not, wasn't the issue. He would rather lick his own shit off the man's cock than run the risk of being discovered. In fact, he'd honestly rather die. He looked back at the man's cock. It was still glistening, waiting to be cleaned.

"It's OK," he told the man like the complete-wimp, shit-licking boy he had become. "I'll just do it."

"Not a player, then" Tichy dropped dryly in response to Marek's answer. He sounded almost … disappointed. He had offered a bet where the odds were in Marek's favor for once. "Stop asking then, and obey immediately next time," he said harshly as he rolled his eyes. "We clearly aren't getting anywhere. Go on. Suck. Clean. And don't ask about wiping or avoiding it again. If you're a complete wimp, you clean up my cock after every session, every time, even with shit on it, without arguing," said Tichy, this time explicitly mentioning the word, stating what they both knew was forming the brownish tinge of the cream-ring near the root of his cock. He leaned back and watched.

Marek bent to the unsavory task with his cheeks burning in shame, the man's words echoing in his head. But even as he began to lick and mouth the man's cock clean – starting with the head, of course, as far away from the unhappy stained area as he could get – he still couldn't quite get his head around what else Tichy had just said. There clearly were other boys. Marek's suspicions in that regard had been confirmed. And what had Tichy meant about him not being "a player"? Did he mean … a sex partner? A willing one? Did Tichy have boys like that at the internat? He seemed to be implying it. And what did he mean by "we clearly aren't getting anywhere"? Had this last week been something like an audition? To see if Marek wanted to become … what? Tichy's poof-boy boyfriend?

Marek remained stunned. His head was spinning as he licked and cleaned the man's penis. He kept his hands behind his back as he knew the man expected. He wasn't a poof. He could never become the man's kept boy. Was that what this had all been about? An excuse to have sex with him, so he could become another one of Tichy's poof boys? Tichy had implied before that there was something special to his punishment. Was that it? He had merely beaten Borek Taus, but with Marek, he had beaten him, fucked him, and done other things to him, too. Was that because he was "special"? Was it because Tichy thought he was a poof boy? It was too nauseating to contemplate.

He would never, ever be Tichy's kept boy. No! It was disgusting. It was gross and awful. Marek would never be a poof boy for Tichy, no matter what the man did to him, no matter how many times he beat him. He had one day to go with this shit – realizing, even as he thought those words, that they were a very apt but poor choice – and then he was done. Fuck Tichy! And he could fuck his precious soccer game, too, for all Marek cared. For a moment, he thought about quitting the team. But playing soccer was just about the only thing he liked doing at the stupid school, so he almost immediately thought better of that.

Marek couldn't stop thinking about the man's proposal and what else he had said. It was a good thing, too, since it helped to take his mind off what he had to do. He'd cleaned Tichy's penis down to the stain – quite thoroughly, in fact, given how reluctant he was to tackle that part. But he had no choice, now, so with a clench of his stomach and a look of utter, mortified disgust on his face, he traced his tongue over the brown-stained horror and began to lick it clean. He didn't want to think about it, and as his mind kept trying to, he kept forcing it to think of other things. He thought of his home in Vacenovice. His mother. Their apartment. His old friends – oh, how he missed them now. He thought about soccer games played and big goals scored. He thought about Christmas, and birthdays, and cake. Chocolate cake, of course, which bore a color similarity to …

It was no use. Trying to distract himself wasn't working. So, he licked, and cleaned, and tried not to taste anything. That somehow, kind of, sort of, worked. And then, soon enough, he was done. He made sure to get it all, then turned to the man's balls and cleaned them, too. He wasn't about to give Tichy any reason to punish him further. When he was finally done, he found himself feeling grateful to the man that he hadn't made Marek lick and tongue his asshole. At least there was that. It was something.

Tichy let Marek do a thorough job of the task, making sure the boy thoroughly paid for his refusal to take a risk and take up the bet he had offered. He was mostly erect when Marek was done but didn't feel like another blowjob. After three orgasms, including the one he had deposited directly on Marek's food, he had had enough, at least physically. He sighed and stretched and simply pushed Marek off his cock.

"Okay, corner time. You know the position. Go!" he commanded simply and poured himself a vodka and reached for a cigarette.

Marek crawled to the cabinet on the man's instruction and positioned himself there. Knees wide apart. Bottom out. His cane stripes were starting to mellow, now, and to yellow, as the healing bruises changed color. The boy's anus looked red and gaped a bit. It was clear to a man of Tichy's experience what had been done to it, especially with its sunken look and the purplish bruise around the hole. Marek pressed his face to the cabinet, then placed his hands on his head and settled in for corner time. He knew that the man was unhappy with him and that his corner time today likely would last for a long, long time.

"Crap," Tichy grumbled under his breath as his stomach made a gurgling sound. Coffee, cigarettes, relaxation – they all added up and Tichy needed to take a shit, pronto. He waited for Marek to get into his position, hurriedly pulling his clothes up and on, then walked over to the door and unlocked it. He threw the door open, not just a crack, either, but boldly, taking what on a work day would have been an actual risk with Marek displayed the way he was, before closing it again and re-locking it from the outside. He went to the staff toilet downstairs to take a good, long shit, leaving Marek in his corner-time position, naked and all alone in the office, with his sore, marked ass leaking cum.

Marek heard the man rise, walk to the door, open it, and leave. His heart raced at the risk of it, but it was late on a Sunday afternoon, and Marek knew that the chance of him being discovered was minimal. Even with the man out of the room, however, he didn't move as he waited for Tichy to return. He didn't dare. Somehow, he knew, Tichy would know if he did.

Tichy came back a little while later, unlocked the door, walked in, and smiled when he recognized that Marek had not moved an inch the whole time. Marek heard the man come back, but Tichy didn't speak, and the boy, of course, didn't move from his position. He had precisely one day to go in his punishment and as tired, sweaty, sore, and leaky as he felt, there was no way he was going to give the man any excuse to prolong it by moving without permission during corner time. Even as his muscles ached from the awkward position, Marek wasn't going to let anything come between the freedom that had been promised to him by late tomorrow afternoon.

If he had to lick his own shit from the man's cock again tomorrow, he would do it, so long as by the end of tomorrow's session, he would be free. After all, a deal was a deal, and perhaps now that he had firmly rejected the man's apparent offer to become one of his kept boys, maybe Tichy would be glad to be done with him so he could move on to some other boy. He could make that boy feel as special as he had made Marek feel. If Marek had his druthers, he would nominate his roommate, Radek Kinter. Maybe Tichy had a taste for chubby redheads? Either way, it was fun to imagine Radek riding Tichy's cock like a cowboy, then sucking the man off afterwards and getting caned for good measure. The image brought a rare smile to Marek's face, and he almost had to suppress a laugh despite himself.

Tichy sat quietly at his desk, ogling the boy's gaping, raw, leaking anus. Oh, yes, this was just like he had envisioned it the day before. Corner time, before and after. Tichy savored both of those images: Marek all fresh and clean as he had come in, and now, clammy with drying sweat, with a destroyed asshole, clearly worse for the wear after a long, grueling session. His cane marks looked like they were healing a bit, which was good. Perhaps he'd overdone the caning given the scabbing on the boy's butt cheeks, but there was something about those fading marks, with the fresher one over them, that made Tichy's cock twitch. He couldn't say for sure that he wouldn't cane him again like that, especially if the boy gave him cause. In fact, he was quite sure he would cane Marek again, and perhaps just as soon as he had the chance.

Marek was for the most part, unaware of how destroyed his bottom looked. He had felt every bit of the destruction, of course, as it was being administered one cane stroke at a time. He had also felt the man's cock deep inside him as it ravished, bruised, and gaped his asshole. But he hadn't yet seen all of the damage in a mirror, and that was perhaps a good thing, because his backside was an utter mess, and the trauma of seeing it that way probably would have made the pain he felt there feel even worse than it already did.

Tichy had never wrecked a boy's ass like that before, especially not one of his peach boys. It was one of the trade-offs. Those who obediently stuck their asses out for a cock and kept their mouths reliably zipped about it afterwards didn't ever get the cane. Sometimes they even got chocolate, cigarettes, or even some vodka or krabicak [Author's Note: sweet and inexpensive Czech wine] on the weekends, at least the older ones did. It payed to be loyal to Tichy. It paid to be close to the man. And he could make life dreadful and fear-filled for any boy who for whatever reason became less trusted, let alone mistrusted. But the Hurta kid was in a special category all by himself. Tichy intended to brutalize Marek and fuck him for as long as the boy was at the school, without any favorable treatment. It would be the best of both worlds – for the man, anyway.

Tichy continued to smoke and enjoy the view, perhaps for a bit longer than even he had intended to. He hadn't realized how much Marek was straining to hold his position until he saw the kid literally trembling with effort. Tichy admired that effort and almost felt a little sorry for the boy, but he still didn't let him move. He knew he was being incredibly hard on Marek, especially considering his tender age and the fact that he was basically a good kid who hadn't personally even done anything wrong. But no matter. Tichy had brought him to the school to suffer and pay for the sins of his father and grandfather, and that was exactly what Marek Hurta was going to do. The tenets of socialism virtually required that the boy be punished for his family's sins, and Tichy intended to be the boy's punisher for the next several years. At the same time, Tichy was going to inflict on Marek every evil, disgusting, and painful thing he had ever wanted to do to someone since he had been a boy himself and had first discovered his sadistic tendencies. He had made that promise to himself more than once concerning the Hurta kid, and he intended to keep it. Marek would suffer, alright. Tichy would see to it.

Tichy realized that he had been daydreaming again and that the boy now was on the verge of collapse. It was then that he finally snapped his fingers.

"Okay. Clothes on. Go. Now tomorrow, you'll eat early as soon as the canteen opens and come straight to the gymnasium. You'll put your clothes away in a locker, and you'll wait for me in the boiler room, naked, over the chair. You know the chair I'm talking about, right?" he asked rhetorically. "Any questions?"

Marek breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered himself stiffly to his hands and knees and then struggled with difficulty to his feet. It was a far cry from the ease with which he had smoothly risen to his feet from the same position just a couple of hours before. But, finally, it was over. His punishment session with Tichy was over, and Marek was free. He turned to face the man as he also went to gather his clothes, listening carefully to the instructions he was given. He was to go to the gymnasium, to the boiler room, to the chair. The fucking chair, obviously to be fucked. It was one last wimp indignity that he would have to endure before he was free. But he would endure it, and he would be free after tomorrow, and that was all that mattered.

"No, sir," he replied to the man's inquiry. He had no questions, but despite his exhaustion he did feel a bit like celebrating, and he had a near-smile on his face as he pulled his underwear back on and prepared to leave Tichy's office for – could it really be? – the last time.

Tichy smiled at the boy's naivete. Marek Hurta would have a few days' reprieve, of course, but he'd come crawling back to the man soon enough after that, and it would be amusing to watch it happen. If not, things could be arranged. Unfortunate accidents and unprovoked, anonymous attacks could be made to happen. And Marek could even be set up again. The cheat sheet had been a fine idea, and while he couldn't use that one again, he could always buy different-brand cigarettes and have Radek or preferably someone more reliable hide them in Marek's drawers in the dorm or something. But he doubted such measures would be necessary. Marek was going to come again tomorrow for his fucking and final humiliation, and he was going to come back again soon after that. Perhaps not right away, and perhaps not until after Saturday's match, but soon enough. Tichy was sure of it.

Chapter Nine

Tichy let Marek leave, dismissing him with a nod. Shortly thereafter, he walked to the gymnasium and arranged things in the boiler room the way he wanted them for the following day, which would be the grand finale of Marek's punishment week. He planned to make it very memorable for the boy, hence the need for the special location. Later, he organized a couple of his trusted boys to keep a close eye on Marek, although he doubted the boy would try anything funny or dare to leave leftovers on his plate anytime soon. Tichy had already decided to take the cane to him again if he did.

Marek left the man's office to return to his dorm for a shower. He was a tired boy, and he still felt sticky from his exertions atop Tichy. The fucking position that Tichy had mandated was a physically stressful one for the boy, and he had had to work extremely hard in the man's stuffy, always-too-warm office to bring Tichy to an orgasm. Now he desperately needed a shower, not only to cleanse his body of dried sweat, but also to get the smell of Tichy's cock and lubricating cream off his face and mouth. Not to mention that his bottom felt loose and wet, and leakage from his ass already had stained his underpants with cum. Fortunately, he was the only boy showering at this time on a late Sunday afternoon, so he didn't have to do anything to ensure that nobody saw his cane marks or the condition of his backside. It would have been embarrassing and shameful to Marek for anyone to see the evidence of his punishment.

The boy felt better after his shower, not only because he was clean, but because he had only a single day remaining in his sessions with Tichy. Yes, he would be fucked in the ass once again – the man had made that abundantly clear – but after that, it never would happen again. The boy was not so naïve as to think that he would never get in trouble again, but no matter what it was, and no matter how severe the punishment was, Marek would never be a wimp again. He would take the slipper or even the cane, but he would never, ever agree to be a wimp again and face a wimp's punishment. It simply wouldn't happen. There would be no deals, no extended punishments in Tichy's office. If he earned them, his punishments would be Taus-like: efficient, painful, and over.

Nor was Tichy likely to offer him another deal, anyway. Marek had made it clear that he was not a player. He could tell that the man had been disappointed in him when he said that, and he also knew well enough that with Tichy, disappointment eventually became anger, and anger led to punishments and pain. But it still didn't matter. He wasn't going to become Tichy's poof boy, even if he couldn't sit down for a month after Tichy was through with him tomorrow. A week of being the man's wimp had cured him of his lack of courage – maybe not entirely, but Tichy certainly had toughened him up. It had not happened in a way Marek would have chosen, but nonetheless, he now was a different boy.

Marek went to dinner and for once he ate heartily, easily finishing his meal and leaving not so much as a single edible scrap on his plate. There was no sign of Tichy, but he knew the man had eyes in the canteen, and Marek wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, not with only one day to go of his punishment. In any event, his appetite seemed to have returned, and he was hungry. Returning to his dorm, Marek sat at his desk and attended to his studies. He'd been neglecting them, especially recently, but with the end of his punishment in sight, he knew he needed to work harder or he would risk expulsion. It would be a shame to be expelled after he had completed his ordeal.

Sleep came quickly after lights out. Marek dreamed, but he couldn't remember what about. He did, however, wake up a few times with steel-hard erections. Normally, he would take care of that need either by slipping away to the bathroom or by slowly jerking off into a sock. There was always a risk that the latter activity might attract unwarranted attention from Radek, but if he did it quietly enough, it wouldn't wake the other boy. But Marek well remembered Tichy's instructions, and he didn't so much as touch himself for fear that he wouldn't be able to stop. He didn't know for sure if Tichy could tell whether he had masturbated, but with only one day to go in his punishment, Marek wasn't at all eager to find out.

Sleep was followed by breakfast, which Marek ate in full. It was a good thing he did, because he had gym that morning, and Tichy worked the boys like never before. By the end of it, Marek was exhausted, and while Tichy never singled him out for extra work, he seemed to have his eyes on the boy during most of the drills. That caused Marek to work extra hard, lest Tichy be on the lookout for something else to punish. Despite the tough workout, he skipped his shower afterwards. It was too risky. Not to mention that he certainly was going to need to shower after his 4 o'clock session with Tichy, which was to happen at the gymnasium for reasons that Tichy hadn't disclosed.

At 3:45 p.m., Marek slipped away from the dorm and made his way in the afternoon sun to the side door of the gymnasium. It was the last day of his punishment, and the boy anticipated that it would be a difficult session with the disciplinarian. Nothing, however, could change the fact that after today, it would be over. Tichy could do his worst – and he probably would – but as Marek entered the building and proceeded to his locker, he felt so happy at that thought that he almost was smiling. One more day. That was all he had to go in his punishment. One. More. Day. How bad could it be?

As he had been instructed, Marek undressed fully and placed his clothes in an empty locker, then made his way to the boiler room. The tub of cream already was lying there on the chair, and he applied a good amount of it to his butt hole, both in and out. He replaced the cap and set the tub down on the floor, then proceeded to lie across one of the armrests of the chair as he waited for the man. His crack and anus felt oily and weird, like he needed to wipe, but he wanted as much lube as possible down there for what he thought was sure to come.

Time seemed to stand still as the boy waited for Tichy to arrive. The armrest dug into his hips as he leaned across it. Had he been here 10 minutes? Longer? Was it possible that the man had forgotten? Was Marek supposed to be somewhere else? No, the boy had been listening very carefully, and he well remembered the man's instructions almost word for word. He had complied with them fully. Tichy would come. It was just like before, only this time, he had to wait for the man to arrive. Marek knew that Tichy would come soon enough. He wouldn't miss the boy's last punishment session.

Tichy made sure to be seen with and by a few teachers just in case he needed an alibi at some point. Shortly before 4:00 p.m., he even went out through the main gate, saying good-bye to the security guard, only to loop around and return to the campus through the back gate using his staff key. He slipped into the gymnasium from the far end of the grounds through a little-used side entrance. He locked the door behind himself and then proceeded to make sure that the building was as quiet, deserted, and dark as he fully expected it to be.

Tichy walked softly and quietly as he approached the boiler room. The door was cracked open. Marek was there already as he had known he would be, lying prone and naked over the chair. Tichy smiled, but didn't walk directly in; instead, he positioned himself at the doorway in the manner that he had planned for and even practiced to get the timing down. When he was ready, there was a single dull "click" sound – loud and distinct even over the hum and hiss of the boiler and the pipes and the room – and suddenly the room was plunged into darkness.

Marek's heart rate spiked with fear the instant the lights went out. There were still a few tiny control lights on and around the boiler, but they weren't strong enough to illuminate much of anything at all, certainly not while the boy's eyes adjusted from the suddenly doused, bright and buzzing CFL tubes overhead to near-total darkness. The door clicked. The man was there a moment later, lifting Marek's head and covering it with something that felt like a sack. Marek moaned softly in distress, but he dared not move. Was the man going to kill him? Was that why he had been brought here, to the gymnasium and the boiler room – the site of his worst infraction, where he had been discovered after trying to run away and hide? It was an irrational thought, to be sure, but Marek was only 12 years old and it seemed plausible enough to him. His death certainly would keep the boy from telling anyone what had happened to him over the last week.

With the youngster's eyes covered and unseeing, Tichy activated a small lamp in the corner that softened the darkness, turning it into a dimness that still didn't offer excellent vision even to Tichy, but was enough for him to find his way about the room. Marek, of course, could see nothing because he had a sack of coarse black fabric over his head that despite being thin enough to be breathable, was thick enough to blot out what little light the lamp offered. The boy was as good as blind.

Tichy quickly fed Marek's left wrist through a pre-tied loop and tightened it. He did the same to the other wrist with another pre-tied loop, and moments later, the same method was used to affix the boy's legs to the feet of the old armchair. Tichy adjusted the bonds, shifting, sliding, and securing them more thoroughly while making sure they weren't cutting off the boy's circulation. Marek now found himself bound tightly to the armchair, with his naked, lubricated ass stuck out, his feet spread apart, and his arms tied behind his back. This exposed his ass cheeks to punishment and his anus to penetration. Given that this was his last day, Marek was quite sure that both things were going happen.

Something pressed against his mouth, causing the coarse fabric to be pushed between his lips along with something large, hard, and rubbery. A leather strap tightened around the back of his head, pressing the rough fabric against his cheeks. Marek had been gagged, rapidly, crudely, and ruthlessly through the sack over his face, which pressed the fabric over his nose. Even though it was still very porous, it was pressed so hard across his mouth that the boy could not help but experience a sense of breathlessness.

Marek started to panic. He had been gagged for his caning so he couldn't scream. He had been bound this way, too. Would the man cane him again? On his last day? It seemed that he would, and Marek moaned in terror once again. All signs pointed to a caning, no doubt to be followed by a fucking. His first caning had torn his butt up and he still hadn't recovered from it. A second caning on top of that could turn his only partly healed bottom into ground meat. Would Mr. Tichy really be that cruel to him? Even after he had obeyed fully by coming to the gymnasium and doing everything the man had told him to do?

Another strap of leather was wrapped around his neck, fastening the sack more firmly over his head as it was adjusted, tightened, and closed; it was some sort of a collar. The man had never secured his neck like this before. It was tight and constricting. He felt his wrists and arms pulled further up his back and secured to it. Now, he would be unable to reach his bottom and unable to protect it at all against the caning that was sure to come. It wasn't fair to cane him like this! Marek had obeyed the man and done everything he had demanded. To cane him now, like this, on the last day of his punishment when he had done nothing wrong, was totally unfair and cruel, but all the signs pointed to that being his fate. The man obviously intended this last session to be memorable, and Marek trembled and sniffled as he hoped that the cane somehow could avoid the worst of the existing stripes on his bottom that already had hardened into scabs.

Suddenly, Tichy departed and Marek heard footfalls receding from the room. All was quiet now and he seemed to be alone. Had Tichy forgotten something and gone to retrieve it? The boy strained to hear, but all was silent and still. Marek waited a moment, then tested his binds. He was tightly secured, but then again, he already knew that would be the case. What was Tichy up to? Marek knew that with some considerable effort, he probably could raise his upper body upright and almost stand. But what good would that do except aggravate Tichy? Thinking better of the idea, the boy remained sprawled over the armrest, his head down on the seat and his legs apart, as he awaited Tichy's return.

This was a totally different dynamic from the other sessions to date. Tichy never said a word, so even though the hands tying the ropes felt familiar to the boy, Marek couldn't even be 100% sure that it even was Tichy who had tied him. And now he was bound, exposed, and left alone, with no instructions, no possibility of escape, and no idea what would happen next or even when it would happen. Marek was struggling to breathe through his new reality, and he could feel his panic and anxiety increasing with every passing moment.

Tichy returned quietly as a ghost, literally taking a breath between each step. Placing one foot down softly, soundlessly, lifting the next, and so on, he approached Marek from behind, never making a sound that would stand out over the hiss and hum of the boiler, especially not through the cloth sack over the boy's head, which made him too aware of his own breathing and the little sounds his own body made. And so, it was an utter shock and surprise when something cold and slippery suddenly slipped into Marek's butthole. It was only finger-thick, and not even as long as that, but it was cold, hard, likely metallic, and swiftly followed by the oddest pulsating sensation, then by a dull pressure in the boy's bowels.

Marek grunted and nearly started out of his skin. He lifted his head off the chair seat and grunted again. His immediate thought was that it was the ginger root again, but it felt different. It seemed to be moving, or not moving, but … what was that? Water? Something else? It was going up his butt!

It took Marek a while to process that there was, indeed, a liquid of some sort flowing into his bowels. It was rushing in at quite a speed and so by the time he was sure that was what was happening, he was starting to feel rather full of the liquid in his anus and the lowest part of his colon, but it just kept on coming, until the rushing of it, and the sheer pressure of the volume that was already up him, started to register as cramping pain, sudden, and rapidly worsening.

He lowered his head again with a sniffled exhale and a groan. What could it be? He was certain it wouldn't be anything pleasant. Was it ginger juice? Some kind of acid? The boy groaned again and clenched his butt cheeks against the burning pain that was sure to come, but it didn't start to burn so much as it simply made the boy feel full. It felt a little like he was being filled up like a water balloon. It was too much. It was too full, way too full. Tichy needed to turn it off. Could a boy explode? Balloons could pop if you overfilled them. But could a boy pop if you overfilled his butt with liquid? It felt to Marek like he might be about to find out.

The boy grunted in pain as the pressure grew and grew. It now felt very much like he might explode. Having the armrest pressed against his belly just made things that much worse. He couldn't possibly stand up to take the pressure off his insides, but the pressure of the armrest left him with less room to accommodate what was steadily filling his bowels. The liquid kept coming and coming, the pressure building, as Marek twisted, moaned, and grunted in discomfort, his head lifted, straining now, as he tried not to explode. Because it literally felt like he fucking would.

Finally, the flow stopped as the extra-large enema bag emptied itself entirely into Marek. It was water, and only water, deposited in the boy's bowels at a perfectly reasonable, safe temperature, but there were a good two quarts [c. 2 liters] of it. It was too much, for anyone, but especially for a slightly built boy. It was bound to hurt and more importantly, even though there was no laxative in it, it was going to be extremely hard to retain.

Finally, Tichy spoke, bringing some clarity to the situation, but they were not comforting words. Not even a little bit.

"The clothes you wore on your way over here today, everything, is down on the floor between your legs, slightly behind you," said the man. "Those are the only items of clothing you'll be allowed to wear on your way back to the dorm, I hope you understand?" explained Tichy, in case the terrified, distressed boy's mind was working too slowly.

The man's words nearly caused Marek to jump out of his skin once again. He had grown used to the silence. It was a nozzle? Why? What was it? Water? Was this a kind of KGB torture? The water-up-the-ass torture, for spies, or something?

"I'm going to pull the nozzle out of your butt now," said Tichy. "I'll be back in five minutes with a bucket. Good luck," he chuckled and stepped back, easing the nozzle out of Marek's butt as he went. He left the boy with a bottom full of watery shit, with nothing but his sphincter between it and his only set of clothes.

As the nozzle left his bottom he clamped down. The pressure didn't get any worse for the boy, but it was already so bad. Marek's grunts, exhales, and little moans continued as he waited for it to start to burn, but it didn't. And what about his clothes? What was Tichy doing to him? Marek was anxious and hopelessly confused, but his innards were in so much pain he couldn't think straight enough to sort anything out. Oh, it fucking hurt. The boy emitted more gasps, moans, and grunts of pain. He was almost hyperventilating now. He wanted to beg for mercy, but of course, the gag prevented that, and with Tichy, what good would it do?

Time passed, and Marek moaned again with effort and pain. It was just about the most uncomfortable thing he had ever had to endure. How could he last the full five minutes without shitting all over his clothes?

Tichy didn't walk away this time; he already had the bucket handy. He leaned against a nice, warm pipe in the boiler room and watched Marek lie there, naked, and helplessly bound, his legs pulled apart, struggling with all his might. He was a bit tired of the boy quitting, wimping out, refusing challenges, and going down the path of least resistance. He was a little annoyed, still, that Marek didn't man up and take him up on the offered bet and had instead just capitulated and sucked the obvious shit off Tichy's cock. If the kid had so little self-respect, he certainly didn't deserve much in the way of mercy from his tormentor.

Tichy enjoyed the view of the boy's muscular legs, and his shapely, taut buttocks. It was a splendid sight, and knowing that he was denied the sight of Marek's pucker only because the boy was clenching and clamping things painfully shut – stretching his will and his body's ability to the limits – made up for it several times over. The man stood behind Marek, just out of splash range, and watched the boy struggle. Throughout it all, Tichy kept a very amused smile on his lips.

Marek bit down on the gag in his mouth as he grunted and grimaced against the pain. Oh, it fucking hurt! Every muscle in his body was corded with effort as he clenched his sphincter and tried to keep the liquid inside his bottom. He felt cramping coming on, and then it hit, bloating the boy's stomach, and feeling like the worst case of diarrhea he'd ever had. He had never wanted or needed to use a toilet this much in his entire life.

It took all his effort and concentration not to give up and let the liquid explode from his butt. The only thing that prevented it was that Tichy had said five minutes. Five times 60 seconds was 300 seconds. He could count until it was over. How long had it been so far? Perhaps he had 200 seconds to go. One … two … three … four … Marek grunted in pain. Forty-nine … fifty … fifty-one. Another cramp. It hurt so much. One twenty-five … one twenty-six … one twenty-seven. Uhhhhh. Unnnghhh.

Tichy reached over and touched the boy's taut, clenched ass. He couldn't help himself. Oh, how delicious this was! This was high drama. Would the boy fail and shit himself, or manage to hold it in? Knowing Marek as he did, the wimpy kid probably would have given up by now if not for the risk of defiling his clothes. However it turned out, the boy's struggle was extremely satisfying and entertaining to watch. It was also sexy as hell. Tichy had never wanted to fuck an ass as badly as this one right here, right now. He teased it and caressed it. He would have it soon, very soon.

Marek was jiggling with anxiety. How much time did he have left? He couldn't hold it much longer. The way his legs were spread, his sphincter had to do the job on its own. The boy desperately wanted to clench his buns together, but his spread-eagled position did not allow it. One ninety-eight … one ninety-nine … two hundred. Fuck, please be over. Please. It wasn't. The boy strained. Had Tichy meant five minutes as in exactly five minutes, or five minutes as in "a little while" – the way you said, "I'll be back in five minutes"? Marek didn't know. Tichy was touching his ass, now. Fuck. Oh, the pressure hurt.

"All right," said Tichy after what seemed like an eternity. "Rise up as much as the ropes allow, bend your legs as much as they'll bend, and stick your ass out. You don't want to miss the bucket and make a mess of your clothes after doing so well," he said with amusement as he watched the boy struggle to take up the awkward position. When satisfied he pressed the broad, round rim of the bucket against Marek's butt, positioning it to catch the entire expelled contents of the boy's bowels.

"All right then, go," he offered.

Marek rose, grunting as he raised his upper torso, freeing up the flow from his bowels. He stuck his butt out, and as he felt the rim of the bucket press into his ass, he let it all go in a rush, the water exploding from his bottom at a fierce velocity.

"Ugghhhhh!" he grunted in relief as he immediately felt the pressure ease. That had been difficult. Painful and difficult, and he was glad it was over. The boy had understood that Tichy would make his last day of punishments difficult, and it certainly was starting out that way. The KGB water-torture had been hard, but what would be next?

Tichy let him vacate his bowels into the bucket, holding it until even the last, little trickle was pushed out and even wiped him with some sort of cloth. Marek hoped that the soft piece of cotton wasn't his t-shirt. Surely Tichy wouldn't really do that to him, would he? But the boy had a sack over his head and a big gag in his mouth, so he couldn't tell for sure whether his own clothes were being used. Even if they were, Marek couldn't protest or do anything about it.

Marek flinched and grunted as he felt something else slide into his ass once again. Fuck! What was this? It felt the same as before, and that was before Marek even felt the water. Oh, no! Not again! But it was happening again, even as the boy heard Tichy explain his plans. Would he have to hold it for 10 minutes this time? There was no way. He would fail. He couldn't possibly. It already hurt. His sphincter was exhausted. He moaned in pain.

"I noticed you're not good with choices," said Tichy. "You're kind of a predictable wimp, a giver-upper, so today, there'll be no choices, no dilemmas because I know you would just choose the wimpiest option. So I'll just do things to you and make you do things. You won't even get to beg. I have a plan for today and we'll just tick off every item on it as it's accomplished You can't do a thing about it, so don't even bother to try," he declared as the boy's bowels once again filled with water.

"This time get into the position with your ass stuck out right away but don't let any water escape. Hold it. The bucket isn't there, but your clothes are," he warned and proceeded to caress Marek's clenched thigh, then reached over to his balls and dick and started to tease them a little. "Hold," he repeated.

Tichy wondered if he could tease the boy to an erection despite his distressed state. He was determined to give it a good try, fingers teasing, tugging, rolling, sliding, the pad of his thumb rubbing in small, firm circles over the boy's penis. After all, he wasn't in a hurry, and this time, Marek couldn't even whine, complain or beg through his gag. Improvised or not, this was the plan – or at least as far as Marek was concerned, it was – and the seconds ticked on and on. Tichy's touch was quite expert. He didn't know how much this second enema hurt the boy; it wasn't quite as large an amount this time, and of course, there wasn't as much content left in the boy's bowels to be added to the water this time, as the last enema had dislodged a whole load of shit. Still, time went on, and Tichy seemed more interested in giving Marek a boner than giving him a fair chance not to shit all over his clothes.

The second enema didn't hurt Marek quite as much as the first one, but the boy's sphincter was shot, and based on what had happened when he vacated previously, he knew that if he let it relax even a tiny bit, he would lose the battle entirely and get the shitty liquid all over his clothes. Tichy was such an asshole. Such a bastard of an asshole. And now he was playing with Marek's cock again, touching him, fondling him, and humiliating him. Marek grunted. The pressure in his bowels required all his concentration to keep his sphincter shut tight, but Tichy's hand and fingers were doing their thing at the same time which was distracting him.

The boy's penis probably wouldn't have responded at all if it hadn't been for the fact that he hadn't cum in two days. He had woken up off and on all night with erections, and he would have masturbated if it hadn't been for Tichy's rules – Tichy's stupid rules. But now he felt his cock come to life, responding to the man's touch, stiffening, lengthening, and erecting. Tichy would probably think he was a poof, maybe even a player, and the thought made Marek angry. But he simply couldn't control the feelings that eventually made his penis nail-hard in the man's soft grasp.

Tichy was having great fun aware of Marek's distress. Of course, the man knew or at least suspected that getting the boy erect would have been much more difficult if he wasn't enforcing celibacy on him, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the nice, stiff, eager-seeming young cock in his hand. He gripped it more firmly and started to jerk it off. He kept going, quite vigorously, but only as far as he dared while making reasonably sure that he wouldn't make Marek cum. He let go again just as he suspected the boy was getting close. He wasn't about to give the kid the pleasure of an orgasm.

The backs of Marek's thighs were literally quivering with effort as he fought to keep the liquid in his ass. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, but the man was leisurely stroking his penis as if he didn't have a fucking care in the world. Marek grunted. He gasped. He moaned. Fuck. Meanwhile, his traitorous cock was cavorting with the enemy, allowing Tichy's hand to pleasure it against Marek's will. It felt too good. Marek knew that he needed to cum.

"Now let go," ordered Tichy. "No bucket this time. Remember? No dilemmas. Just commands today. Shit it out all over your clothes. It's mostly just water now, anyway," he chuckled and gave Marek's bottom a sharp swat to encourage him to obey. Tichy was smiling. He was having great fun playing the role of an evil bastard.

Marek was pleased when the man suddenly unhanded his cock, barking orders once again. Oh, thank god, thank god. But wait … no bucket? No …no! He couldn't let go and shit all over his clothes! Marek danced in place, as much as his binds would allow.

"Unnnnh, unnnhhhhh!" he protested into the gag. Get the bucket! Get the bucket. A sharp smack to the boy's ass made him flinch, but still he held on. "Unnnnh! Unnhhhhh!

"Oh well, I guess I'll have a smoke. Let's see who can outwait the other, shall we, smart boy," taunted Tichy in the most mocking, sarcastic tone of voice he was capable of conjuring. He stepped back, reached for his pack of smokes, lit a Startka, and relaxed as he waited for Marek to lose. Because, obviously, the boy losing wasn't a matter of if, but when, and it wasn't even that long a when. By the time Tichy left Marek's cock hard and frustrated – his balls aching dully as they were fooled into nearly cumming, then denied – Marek was only a few minutes away, at most, from losing this battle no matter what he did. He still had well over a quart of water [c. 1 liter] up his little ass, liquid was extremely hard to retain, let alone a large quantity like that, especially with his legs spread as wide as they were. So, Tichy simply smoked, watched, and grinned.

Marek hated Stanislav Tichy. He hated him with every fiber of his being. On this occasion, he hated him because he was easily, totally, and without the slightest effort going to get his way, and he was going to get it almost immediately. The boy was spent. His sphincter was about to surrender. Marek held on for another few seconds, maybe 30 altogether, before he submitted to the inevitable and blew the watery contents of his bowels all over the floor. He felt it as it splashed up his feet and legs. He hoped he had gotten some on Tichy! Well, not really, as Tichy probably would make him pay dearly if that happened, but the thought was pleasant enough in its own right. He panted as he tried to regain his breath. Nothing but nothing had ever felt so good as letting that go.

Tichy slowly finished his cigarette as he let Marek suffer the indignity of standing there with the stinky water running down his legs and soaking the pile of clothing behind and underneath him. Marek could do nothing but remain in position, bound and now dripping, as the man decided what to do with him next. Tichy was an enigma to him now. What was with the water-in-the-ass torture? What was the point of it? And the man had better not have put his clothes on the floor. Marek didn't think he had, but what if he weren't bluffing? What if Marek had just gotten shit and water all over his clothes? Tichy wouldn't do that to him, would he? He fucking wouldn't … would he? The man was such an asshole that perhaps he would. Marek was so over him, and he would be, for real, in what? An hour? Two? Three? How long would Tichy torture him today? The boy didn't know.

After a couple of minutes, Tichy grabbed a cloth to clean the boy. A button brushed over Marek's leg, leaving little doubt that these indeed were the clothes he had worn to the gymnasium. Tears of frustration and white-hot anger came to his eyes inside the sack. That fucker. He had really done it, even after Marek had done everything he asked. The boy had come here, lain across the chair, never moved a muscle, did everything the fucking guy told him to do, and now his clothes were at best all wet, and at worst … Marek didn't want to think about it. It was plain, flat out bullying, and Marek could do nothing about it because of who Tichy was, and what he was. It was unfair, and the boy's fairness meter was malfunctioning with rage.

Tichy chose that moment to press the tube of cream against the boy's exhausted sphincter and squeeze some in. Quickly replacing the tube with his throbbing cock, he slipped into the boy, going from no penetration at all to balls-deep in one smooth, forceful thrust. This was much harder and faster than ever before, with no preparation, no stretching, and with no pause or time for the boy to try to adjust. He would show Marek that anal sex could still hurt, after all.

Marek felt the lube squeezed inside him a moment before he felt Tichy line up and take him, deep with one thrust, bringing a moan of surprise and pain through the gag, and from under the sack. That had hurt. It had fucking hurt. And the boy knew that it had only just started.

Tichy pulled out. Not part way. Not even most of the way, he moved his hips back until the tip of his cock popped out of Marek's anus. He quickly checked it. There was no blood. Not even a streak. This boy was seriously made for abuse, and Tichy planned to give him plenty. He wondered if evolution really could work this fast. Could an evil, rich man's offspring somehow sense the danger of a working-class uprising and adapt, ensuring that a kid born to the grandchild generation evolved to be fucked, fucked with, and hurt? It certainly seemed to be that way with Marek.

Tichy huffed and reinserted his cock all the way, then retracted it until it popped back out of the boy's ass. And then he went in again. Marek remained gagged and bound. He had refused to be a player, so now he was just an instrument, just being played. Tichy fucked him and fucked him some more in this weird fashion. All the way in. All the way out. Of course, he wasn't going to cum anytime soon like this, but that was very much a part of his plan.

Marek shuddered as the man pulled out. That had hurt. The boy was on the small size for his age, and the man's 7" [18 cm] cock hurt when it suddenly plowed inside him. It stretched his anus, abused his sphincter, ravaged his rectum, and rearranged his bowels with every entry. Marek moaned. The man was in a devilish, awful mood today, which the boy had predicted. Tichy was too cruel to let Marek off easily on his last day of punishment. The boy knew that to Tichy, he was nothing but a wimp, deserving of humiliation and scorn.

He also knew that Tichy would make sure that he paid for rejecting the man's advances. Tichy had made it clear that he was going to put Marek through the ringer in the privacy of the gymnasium. Perhaps he had hoped that Marek would be too scared to come, that he would run away again and try to hide. Then Tichy would have had an excuse to extend the boy's punishment so he could fuck, humiliate, and beat him some more. But Marek had come. Even knowing it would be bad, he had come. And no matter what the fucker Tichy did to him, today would be the last day for any of that. It would be the last day of Marek being a wimp.

Knowing that didn't stop the pain. The man was hurt-fucking him, obviously trying to cause distress. It was working, too. The boy grunted with discomfort, then vowed not to make another sound. He succeeded, too, but only by biting down on the gag. Underneath the sack, Marek was silently crying, as much from the injustice of what was happening to him as from the pain itself.

Tichy long-dicked the boy a few more times before he pulled out one last time and untied the boy's legs and arms. He pulled Marek off the chair down to his knees, removed the boy's gag, pulled the sack away from his face, and tore a nice big hole in it directly over the kid's mouth. It was time for some nice, humiliating, ass-to-mouth action with the child.

"Suck, wimp," he ordered the hapless boy. "Lots of tongue. I hope you can taste the difference and feel grateful for it."

The boy suddenly found himself kneeling, ungagged, and able to breathe through his mouth. He still couldn't see, but he leaned his head closer and opened his mouth. He didn't want to suck the man's cock, but Tichy could do whatever the fuck he wanted to him today, and Marek accepted it. Because after today, Tichy could go straight to hell.

Tichy guided his cock into the boy's mouth. It had just come from the kid's ass, but it was remarkably clean. It didn't exactly smell of roses, and there was a hint of that oily flavor from the cream that Tichy used as his standard lube, but at least it didn't taste of shit. The boy was instantly, and pleasantly surprised by the near-complete lack of taste. It tasted very much like it had not been in the boy's ass. In fact, it tasted almost as if it had been cleaned, even scrubbed, because the cream tasted much like soap. As Marek sucked and tongued the man, it occurred to him that Tichy's water-torture had cleaned out his insides, making his ass cleaner for the man's cock, thereby making it cleaner for his mouth …

Wait – was that what Tichy had meant about being grateful, about tasting the difference? Marek sucked and bobbed on the man's cock, but now he felt confused. Had the water-torture been … something else? Was Tichy trying to be kind to him? Marek's head started to spin again as tears came to his eyes. Why was he crying? He hated himself for it, for being such a fucking wimp. but the man confused him. He messed with his mind. Were the mean things he did mean? Were the nice things nice? Marek's head was spinning. He remembered how concerned Tichy had been when the boy had fallen on his face – not even all that hard – in the man's office. Marek had been afraid he had hurt the man and thought he would be beaten silly for it, but Tichy had been kind. He had checked Marek over like a father would do for a young son who had fallen off his bicycle. What was up with that?

And what was up with Tichy wanting him to be a player? Wasn't he sick of dealing with the wimpy boy?

Tichy let Marek suck him long enough for it to feel good, and long enough for Marek to realize that there were no stains or streaks this time, and nothing brown, gritty, or grainy on his cock. Then the boy was pushed off, pulled back to his feet, turned around, pushed over the chair, and fucked in the ass some more. This time, Tichy went slowly. There was almost no pain, except that the boy's already abused sphincter was re-aggravated. The man used short, almost gentle thrusts, aiming for the spot that re-stirred Marek's boner. Clearly, Tichy knew which way and how to fuck him to give him that sensation. Five or six minutes later, he pulled out, grabbed Marek's shoulder, pulled him to stand, turned him in the spot, pushed him to his knees and fed him his "miraculously" clean cock yet again, for another extended sucking session.

"Balls deep now," he demanded casually.

It was all so confusing, and the boy's head was still spinning as Tichy got him up to fuck him again. But this time, it was Nice Tichy. He thrust slowly, gently, and with the sensation inside him that Marek liked. All too soon, though, Marek was back on his knees, opening his mouth for Tichy and preparing to take him into his throat. The sightless boy was starting to feel bewildered by the rapid changes in position.

For six days, Tichy had worked on building routines, rules, and rhythms so that his and Marek's interactions were largely predictable, or at least contained predictable, familiar sequences and patterns. The man had found over his years at the internat that nothing could normalize abnormal, shocking, and even utterly wrong and inappropriate things quite like repetition. He had chipped away at Marek's defenses and resistance, sometimes step by little step, sometimes by bulldozing right through them with the slipper, the cane, or the ginger root. Now he had the confused and defeated boy right where he wanted him.

What he intended to leave the boy with today was a conflicted mindset, a feeling of disorientation. He wanted the boy to experience a sense of unpredictability and uncertainty, a mix of doubt and guilt, a combination of fearful and horrific memories, but also fragmented flashbacks of unprecedented pleasure, moments of kindness, mercy, and care – even of tenderness. Today, Tichy didn't worry one bit about lack of clarity and sending out mixed messages – the good, the bad, a bit of both, a lot of both, it hardly mattered. The less sense Marek was able to make of this experience, the better; it would stop him from wrapping everything up in a tidy, straightforward narrative and help to keep things open and unfinished, with loose ends in the boy's mind. This was exactly the way Tichy needed things to be. Marek could think he was done with all this here, now, and today, but he would be left with layers of a very different sense and feeling about it, and parts of his mind not quite buying into such an easy and straightforward resolution.

He let Marek suck his cock, nice and deep, servicing him with his throat, but he wasn't too rough and didn't overdo it with his demand for depth so that Marek would not need the bucket again. He turned the boy around and fucked his ass again, then his mouth some more, ass, mouth, ass, mouth in a confusing merry-go-round of changed positions. But there still was no mess. No shit. No awful taste. And after scaring the heck out of the boy initially, Tichy wasn't at all rough with his ass and in fact seemed to be quite stubbornly aiming for and prodding against the magic spot somewhere inside Marek's rectum.

Marek obeyed and performed as the man instructed him, bending back over the chair to be fucked, then returning to his knees to suck, which included tonguing and massaging the man's cock with his throat. The boy was unaware that he had become quite an accomplished little cocksucker over the past few days, due to Tichy's unrelenting training methods. While Marek still could not quite suppress his gag reflex on command, he now could inhibit it a great deal. When the gags came, he mostly coped with them, without nearly so much of the horrible stomach-clenching that previously had been the precursor to vomiting. Only the very deepest, full-on 7" [18 cm] insertions into his throat threatened to conjure bile – or worse – from the boy's belly. But Tichy was not requiring that level of performance today, which Marek thought was a good thing because he couldn't see to use the vomit bucket.

As the man alternated between his bottom and his mouth, all Marek wanted was to be done. It wasn't even awful, and in fact that spot in his bottom felt as good and as tingly as ever, but the boy just wanted it to be over. He wanted to go back to his normal existence at the school. Even if that existence hadn't been all that great for the first three months, it hadn't involved this. This last week had been hell on earth for the boy, and he longed to be done with Tichy, done being a wimp, and done being punished and fucked. Freedom was so close he could almost taste it, but instead, he was tasting the flavor of the cream that the man liked to use as a lubricant for his cock. Soon enough, he probably would be tasting the man's cum and licking it from Tichy's shaft.

Some twenty minutes later, Tichy finally came in Marek's butt, but even then, he didn't stop. The prolonged oral clean-up that followed – distinctly only a cum-clean up, with just a slight aftertaste of the oily cream – immediately turned into another, identical session. Now he was steering Marek to lie back on and into the armchair and fucking him in that position, lowering himself and jabbing at his prostate so vigorously that the boy's unsatisfied cock started to leak involuntarily and dribble small oozing droplets of cum with almost every thrust. Tichy was milking the boy without involving his frustrated boycock in the game at all. He pulled the sack off Marek's head now, whimsically, and looked directly at the young face and into the uncertain eyes of the helpless, hapless boy as he forced a very humiliating, unwelcome sort of pleasure on him.

Marek knew the man wouldn't be finished with him after a single orgasm – especially not on this, his last day – but he was a bit surprised when the man began to erect once again so soon after blowing his first load of the day. Soon, Tichy was back to the same routine as before: ass-fucking followed by sucking, rinse, and repeat. The ass-fucking no longer hurt much. In fact, whatever insertional pain the boy felt on his abraded anus and deep in his bowels was more than offset by the tantalizing sensation he felt each time the man's cock grazed that special spot inside him. Marek hadn't always able to find that spot when he controlled the insertions, but Tichy seemed to know exactly where it was. It felt good enough that Marek became fully erect. The boy needed to cum, but unless Tichy took care of that for him, there was no way that Marek would dare to try to cause it himself. Maybe tomorrow. Once the boy's daily punishments sessions were at an end, there was no way that Tichy would know what he did or didn't do when he was alone. At least, Marek didn't think there was a way he would know that.

Finally, the man pulled the sack off the boy's head, causing him to blink as the light hit his eyes. Lying back in the chair with his ass and head above the armrests, Marek was prevented from looking down, so could not see the mess he had made on the floor and what he now accepted as likely on his clothes. Even as Tichy moved around the chair from ass to mouth and back again, Marek just lay there passively with his eyes on the ceiling..

As the man continued to fuck him in his butt, each of them was looking the other in the eyes. Idly, Marek wondered if Tichy had fucked any other boys on this very chair, and he supposed that it was likely that he had. Tichy had implied that he'd had many boys, and Marek could believe it. At least some of those boys must have been "players," willingly submitting to Tichy, becoming his playthings. Marek took some pride in the knowledge that he had rejected the man's advances in that regard, opting for rougher, more brutal treatment than he would have received if he simply had agreed to become the man's concubine. The man thought he was a wimp, and he was probably right, but perhaps now he respected the boy's newfound resolve. Did any of that matter in the grand scheme of things? Marek thought that it probably did not, but it would make it a whole lot easier to look himself in the mirror when his punishment finally was over.

Suck. Fuck. Suck. Fuck. There was some cock-teasing of the boy, but only marginal, brief, fleeting bits of it as the boy's cock stayed determinedly on the edge. Tichy didn't want Marek to cum, oh no. Oh, most definitely not, no, no, no. He wanted him to want to, however, and he seemed to be doing a decent job of that. Suck. Fuck. Suck. Fuck. Tichy was dripping with sweat now. The boiler room was warm. Damn it. He was getting close, but he wasn't just going to fuck Marek a couple of times and let him go. This was the last day of the boy's week-long punishment, after all, and Tichy intended to make it a memorable one.

He pulled out of the boy before he reached his second orgasm. Reaching to his right, Tichy produced a light, stainless-steel chain, clipped it to the boy's collar, then picked up a cane. It was time for fun of a different sort. This was going to be special.

Marek Hurta was hot and getting tired. But Tichy was doing more of the work, and the man was dripping with sweat. Now on his second go at the boy, he was demonstrating admirable staying power, while Marek was left tantalizingly close to orgasm, himself. Then, suddenly, it ended. The man ominously clipped a lead to what Marek had already ascertained was a collar. This was new and different enough that it concerned the boy. What did Tichy have planned for a grand finale? Marek was certain he would not like it. He would not like it one little bit.

"Down, čubko [Author's note: bitch]. Crawl." Just like that, Tichy proceeded to take Marek for a walk. He led the boy around the boiler room, testing out basic dog commands. Heel. Sit. Lie. Beg. Roll over. They were stupidly simple and small commands, but Tichy insisted on the boy's full compliance and stinging licks of the cane corrected even minor mistakes.

The boy was very apprehensive as Tichy began treating him like a dog. He had done this the first day – or was it the second? – but not for this long. Not this thoroughly, anyway. But Marek complied. He would give Tichy no reason to be any crueler today than he already planned to be. Nor would he give the man any opportunity to extend his punishment sessions. He rolled over. He sat. He begged, and lay down, and tried to act like a dog. It all seemed a bit ridiculous to the boy, but he performed as instructed without complaint. He would get through this.

When he thought the boy was ready, Tichy pulled his clothes on, shoes and all, and led the naked boy out into the hallway on hands and knees. Into the locker room they went, then into the toilets, and then into the big gymnasium itself. It was already dark outside, and the building had only emergency lights on, so it was quite dark in the gymnasium as they moved about. At first, Marek though it was fine. Then, his knees started to hurt. Then they really started to hurt, the lacquered gym floor raising brush burns, painfully so. But Marek kept crawling. The cane saw to that, biting down at half-force, and so did Marek's resolve. He would get through this and it would end. It had to end. The man had promised.

Tichy led the crawling Marek back towards the boiler room, but passed it and went down a hallway with a 90-degree bend that led to the creaky old door on the far, mountain-facing side of the internat's grounds. Tichy slipped a key in the door, unlocked it, and opened it to the outside air.

Marek's knees really hurt. He tried to favor them as the man led him down the hallway, but there was little he could do. Then they arrived at the door. Marek looked up in surprise as Tichy inserted the key. The boy's blood ran cold. They couldn't go outside, not like this. He was stark naked! It was freezing out there! Was Tichy crazy?

"Crawl," announced Tichy dryly. "If you make a sound or pull back on the leash, I'll whip you until you behave," he announced, and then yanked at the chain, basically dragging Marek out into the night.

The boy tugged back, looking reluctant and scared, but the swift application of the cane to his defenseless backside impelled him forward. They were outside now, and there was yet more crawling on his tortured knees, this time on cold, unforgiving concrete. The boy shivered with cold and fear. Where was Tichy taking him? And why? Marek had thought that the man wouldn't kill him. He didn't think that Tichy was insane. But he was only 12 years old, and suddenly he was terrified that he may have been wrong on both accounts.

It was cold outside. Not quite literally at the freezing mark, but not far off it. It was way, way, way too cold for anyone, let alone a skinny young boy, to be crawling around outside naked on all fours. A sudden gust of wind sucked all the residual heat from the fucking session in the boiler room right out of the kid, just like that. The wind came from further up the mountains, where night was settling in, cold and frosty. There was a feeling in the air that snow wasn't far away, and winter – a bitter, harsh winter – was coming very, very soon. It was dark. There was no artificial light and the sky was overcast, with the moon only partly penetrating the scattered clouds, and only a few stars bright enough to be visible.

No one was there to see them, but they were outside on a concrete path with the fence ahead of them, a mere stone's throw from the sidewalk and road that encircled the school grounds. Tichy tugged at the chain yet again, pulling Marek further away from the warmth and the privacy of the gymnasium, toward the road. Everything felt deserted and abandoned at this time of the evening on an early winter's night like this. But it was still the road. They were still outside. Virtually anyone could appear for any reason at any moment now, and Tichy didn't seem to care. He kept a firm grip on the chain and seemed determined to pull Marek, still crawling over the concrete, as far as the steel fence of the internat, where the coiling razor wire at the top glistened in the cold night's semi-darkness.

The boy resisted, stopping, refusing to move forward. Tichy met his disobedience silently with the cane, administering four sharp strikes to the boy's exposed bottom before Marek yelped in pain and started to crawl once again. Soon they were nearly at the back gate of the property, where Tichy paused. The sidewalk was a mere step away. If any pedestrians came strolling by, they would be only an arm's length away from Tichy and the naked, human boy-puppy by his feet. Tichy looked up towards the sky momentarily, then tugged at the chain he was using as a leash, pulling Marek in the direction of the gate.

Marek was shaking uncontrollably. He was freezing cold and anxious. He was terrified that he would be seen by someone – and being seen naked and compromised like this was among the child's greatest fears – but even that took a backseat to the terror he was feeling, deep in his stomach, in his loins, all over. Where was Tichy taking him? The boy's penis had shriveled to the size of a toddler's as he crawled painfully along on abraded knees, but the man did not slow down. Any delay resulted in being dragged, or the cane, and Marek wasn't sure which was worse. The child was literally moaning in fear now. They were so close to the gate, to the sidewalk outside. Marek's eyes blurred with tears as the man stopped there, right in front of it, with all that that implied.

"Who makes the rules?" demanded Tichy.

"Y-y-y-you d-d-do," replied the terrified, freezing boy.

"And what do you do?" Tichy demanded starkly. He would insist on correct answers from the shivering, teeth-chattering boy. He would be happy to urge Marek on with the cane if the boy became obstinate or failed to answer the questions properly.

"F-f-f-follow th-th-them," Marek replied, his shivering voice meek, almost mournful.

"Good boy," said Tichy as he reached for the gate as if he were about to open it and take Marek outside the internat's ground.

The boy moaned in terror as Tichy moved toward the gate. Tears filled his eyes as he realized what Tichy intended to do. How could anyone be this cruel? And how could the man be so unconcerned about being caught? But Tichy was only playing a trick on him; the gate remained closed as the man turned back toward the gymnasium building.

Marek sobbed as he crawled. It wasn't funny. Marek was scared shitless. If Tichy hadn't been fully in his head before, he was now. The boy's knees hurt so much, and he couldn't stop his entire body from shaking. He wouldn't be able to stop shaking for a long, long time, not after this. At least they were heading back to the gymnasium. Marek wanted desperately to be back inside where it was warm.

But when they arrived at the building, Tichy stopped once again. He squatted down and lifted Marek's head up toward his with both hands.

"I'm going inside," he told the lachrymose boy. "You're staying out here, alone, for as long as I decide. You're free to run off if you like. But if you decide to stay here until I open the door again, whenever that is, you had better be ready to obey when you come back in. You'll be tested. There will not be room for any disobedience. You will obey me, or the consequences will be more painful than you can possibly imagine or endure. You can trust me on that. Do you understand?"

The boy didn't understand. He was freezing. The man was going to keep him outside? In the cold? He could even leave, but where would he go? Where could he go? He was naked. He could hardly go into the village. He couldn't go back to his dorm. Everyone would see him. What was it that the man needed him to do? He would do it. He didn't need to be left outside. It didn't matter what it was. What more could Tichy possibly do to him?

"I-I'll o-o-o-obey M-M-M-Mr. T-T-T-Tichy," replied the terrified boy, his teeth chattering in the cold.

"I hope you will, Marek. I really do. But I want to give you some time to think about it," Tichy said as he rose to his feet. He opened the door and prepared to step inside, then turned back to the shivering, wide-eyed 12-year-old looking up at him in disbelief. "Soon we will see what you have learned this week about obedience." And with that, he was through the door. Marek heard it click shut and lock behind him.

Marek had never felt so alone and exposed in his entire life. He was naked, outside, in the cold, and he already was freezing. The pavement was cold underneath him. His knees were abraded, bruised, and killing him. His hands were going numb from crawling on the cold sidewalk. What was he going to do? How long was Mr. Tichy going to leave him here? Perhaps it was the boy's imagination, but it seemed that as soon as the man went back inside, the wind picked up, making him even colder. He crawled onto the dirt and grass to the side of the door. He didn't dare go far, but the concrete was too cold for him to stay there. He sat on his bottom despite the many swishes he had received and curled his arms around his knees, but it was no good. The strokes had been nowhere near as hard as when Tichy had properly caned him, but there had been lots, so his bottom was too sore to sit on, and so were his hands and knees. With few positions available to him, Marek turned on his side and curled into a ball like a whipped puppy, trying to make himself as small as he could, trying to preserve his body heat.

It was no use. Aside from the building itself, he had no windbreak, and every gust of mountain wind sapped him of heat and chilled him to the bone. Did the man realize how windy it was becoming? It felt like a storm might be blowing in. It was what his grandmother used to refer to as "inside weather," but Marek was not inside. He was very much outside – cold, naked, and shivering. He wanted to cry but he was too cold. Would Tichy let him freeze to death? After this latest sojourn outside, he was willing to believe that the man was capable of anything. What if Tichy forgot about him? What if the man fell asleep sitting in the rape chair in the boiler room and left him here?

Minutes went by, but they seemed like hours to Marek. He had never felt so cold. He was shivering uncontrollably now. The wind was biting on his bare skin. His buttocks were exposed to the wind and freezing. His feet felt numb. He tried to tuck them in and cover them with his hands and arms but there wasn't enough space to cover everything that was exposed. This was cruel. It was terrifying. How could the man be so heartless? What had Marek done to deserve this? He had done everything the man demanded of him today, and for days before that, but evidently it still wasn't enough to satisfy him. Tears came to the boy's eyes then, but the wind on his face made him regret them soon enough. He buried his head between his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Tichy waited a good long time; longer, perhaps, than he should have. It was at least five minutes, and it may have been closer to seven or eight – too long for a naked, terrified boy to be left outside in the cold. But Tichy didn't care. He hadn't checked his watch. He wanted to give Marek time to think about obedience, so he simply waited until he thought it was the right time, then opened the door.

Marek was still there, as the man had known all along he would be. After a week of seeing the boy every day and learning what made him tick, Tichy knew that Marek was too timid to run off. The boy likely, and literally, would have frozen to death outside the gymnasium door rather than have anyone see him naked and in distress. It was a weakness and a conceit that Tichy was sure he would be able to exploit in the future. The boy would be forced to do more than just be seen naked by other people, Tichy was quite sure of that. But all in good time.

The man grasped Marek's lead and drew the shivering, freezing, curled-up boy back into the building. Tichy could tell that the youngster was chilled to the bone. The wind had picked up since he had left the boy – or perhaps he simply hadn't noticed it before – and the child's skin was white as a ghost as he crawled shakily back into the gymnasium. The boy's breaths were coming in shivery little pants. Tichy realized then that he probably had overdone it a little bit, but Marek would be warm again soon enough. The man would see to that.

He dragged the boy back into the boiler room, where Tichy once again shed his clothes and collapsed into the chair, leaning back and raising his legs and spreading them as he simultaneously pulled Marek down to his knees with his face in a cocksucking position. Except now the boy wasn't faced with the man's cock, but with his asshole. Tichy swished the cane in the air.

"Go on, wimp." His meaning was clear, and he felt no need to give the boy more specific instructions.

Marek knew instantly what the man wanted. A soft moan escaped his blue, shivering lips. But the boy crawled closer and leaned in as he knew he must and began to pleasure the man's hairy asshole with his cold, shaking mouth and shivering tongue.

Tichy's spine shuddered and he got goosebumps as the boy's cold lips pressed against his hairy, puckered hole. The man was in his element. Taking the boy outside in the cold had been totally worth the very marginal risk of discovery. Oh, it was so sweet, so satisfying to freak the fuck out of the kid, to shake up his world and deprive him of whatever little certainties and hopes he had left. And now here they were once again, doing the thing that the man loved so much and the boy hated with equal fervor, without even the slightest hint of resistance from the defeated youngster.

Marek was still freezing, and still terrified, and the way he felt right now, he wasn't sure if he would ever recover from either. He now knew that Tichy was crazy. The man had risked everything to walk a naked, collared boy on his knees almost off the school property. Who would do that? And if he would do that, what else would he do? Marek was almost sick to his stomach as he contemplated what the man might be capable of. It didn't help that as he had those thoughts, his face was pressed against the man's ass while his shivering, freezing mouth and tongue bathed and licked the man's hole.

"Get your tongue in," barked Tichy. "Make it feel good. Be thorough, keep going. Don't stop, don't pause, don't mess with me until I tell you that you're done," the man warned. "Unless you want to be taken on an actual walk, out the gate and down, toward the Vratnice [Author's note: main gate], into town," he grinned sadistically.

"I flushed out your ass to show you these things can be done cleanly, but you're still a wimp. You don't get to set limits, and so you will do something tonight you will never forget. Can you guess what it is? You can pause briefly to venture your guess," he chuckled.

Marek flinched as Tichy barked another command, and his tongue instantly began to comply, worming its way inside the man's ass as the boy cringed at the awfulness of it. But what choice did he have? The man was capable of anything. Marek had just experienced that first-hand. Here, alone in the gymnasium, after dark and way after hours, the man could literally kill him. Tichy could torture him to death, chop him into little bits in the showers and flush him down the toilets piece by piece. The possibilities were all very real to Marek, so he licked and tongued and did his very best to please the part of the man's anatomy that just a few days ago, he had been severely caned for refusing to even consider servicing in this fashion.

All the while, he listened to the man's taunts, not reacting, not responding, until the man asked his question. Marek pulled back. His eyes were wide and still full of fear as he trembled with cold and anxiety and looked up at the man. There was something else? His blood turned to ice in his veins. Something … worse? His mouth felt dry as he swallowed.

"I- " he started to say, as his eyes flitted and rolled back a bit in his head. The boy looked petrified. He felt faint. He shook his head to ward off the coming darkness. What more awful thing did the man have planned for him? Marek didn't know what it was. He couldn't imagine what it was. But he knew with every force in the universe that he did not, would not, want to do it.

"P-p-p-please M-Mr. T-Tichyyy," Marek begged, as he again felt faint. His eyes were wet with tears. His head was spinning, and he didn't even know why he was begging or for what.

"Oh good, gooooood," said Tichy as he stretched the last word out almost comically. "That right there, that's respect. That's fear. Those are the eyes and that's the voice of a boy who knows he's fucked. Who knows that I can do anything to him, right here and now, and he can't do anything about it." Tichy paused to let that all sink in. "This is the last day of your punishment and we're still five days from the match. I could fuck you up bad, and you know it, don't you, wimp?" Tichy's smile was perhaps his cockiest, cruelest, and most sadistic one yet.

"Now, I note that you didn't bother to guess; that was just another, typically wimpish response from you, so you clearly don't know. But what you seem to know is that whatever it is, you will not like it, and also, that if I really want to make you do it, you'll do it, no matter what. And that's absolutely true, Marek. Absolutely true. You can scream, kick, thrash about, beg, and cry, but we're in a locked building, alone, and I'm faster and stronger than you are, and I am – look into my eyes now, wimp, and listen to this, hear this, I'm dead serious here – I am really determined to make you do this, and so you will do it. Either you'll be half smart about it and just do it, like it or not, or you'll do it in a few hours after your ass is bloody from the cane and you've been beaten until you've pissed yourself, and fuck knows what else, but this will happen. If you resist me, you get hurt until you stop resisting. I want you to have this experience, and you'll have it before you leave this place today, or in the wee hours of tomorrow, even if that means you'll crawl out of here beaten within an inch of your life, broken and bleeding."

Tichy's entire lecture was delivered in a relatively calm, even, rational, and one-hundred percent serious tone of voice. Tichy meant every word of what he was saying. Every word. His complete resolve could not possibly have been lost on the boy, but he would give Marek some time to process everything before he demanded an answer.

From his knees, Marek stared at his tormentor with tired, apprehensive eyes that widened in fear as the man continued to speak. Whatever the unpleasant task that Tichy had planned for him, Marek knew that there was no way out for him. Not like this, naked and alone with the man in a locked gymnasium, far from his dorm, with nobody around to help him, or even to hear his screams. Tichy's vicious, evil words were spoken with such obvious hate and malice that they merely served to confirm what the boy had suspected all along: What had happened to him over the course of the past week had not been primarily, or even at all, about punishing him for cheating. For reasons that Marek still could not fathom, the man utterly despised him, and the vehemence of his words made the dimensions of that antipathy even greater than the boy previously had suspected. Even now, on the last day of Marek's prolonged punishment, after near-slavish compliance from the boy, Tichy was still reveling in the power he had over Marek, openly fantasizing about using his superior size and power to hurt him in sadistic and terrible ways. He seemed almost eager for the boy to give him a reason to do so.

But why? What had Marek done to earn the man's hatred? Over a full week of painful, cruel, and bizarre punishments, the man had not so much as even mentioned the cheat-sheet incident from Mr. Drabek's class. Not once had Tichy reminded him why he was being punished or lectured him about the lofty standards of academic integrity at the school or the self-harming ills of cheating. It was as if the cheating incident was entirely irrelevant to the man's purpose. Tichy didn't seem to care what he was supposed to have done. It seemed to Marek that he was being punished for something else entirely. But what? What could he possibly have done to Tichy or anyone else to warrant this degree of hatred and malice from the man?

When Tichy's lecture was over, Marek reluctantly returned to the man's hairy asshole and resumed pleasuring it with his mouth and tongue. The boy continued to tremble as he licked and slobbered on the man's wrinkled orifice, working his tongue in when commanded to do so, his mind full of uncertainty and dread. Tichy still hadn't told Marek what he had to do – the thing that was so awful and so horrible that if he resisted as the man seemed to think he would, Tichy would gleefully bloody the boy's backside with the cane and torture him for hours until he simply gave in and did it, anyway. Marek had no doubt that the man would be true to his word, and he shuddered at the thought of what Tichy could do to hurt him here, in the quiet of the gymnasium, with nobody else around.

"Lick, suck, and kiss that hole, you little fuck," Tichy demanded sadistically. He let the silence stretch, but only for a moment. "There's no plan B today, Marek," he taunted the boy. "Today, you can't beg. You can't cop-out. Today, you simply obey," he added, repeating his statement from earlier. He ruffled Marek's hair. He knew that he was really freaking the kid out, and he almost felt sorry for him, but not enough to let him off the hook. It sucked to be the grandson of a Nazi killer. The boy had been brought to the school to suffer for that, and Tichy would make sure that he did just that. No mercy was deserved, and none would be given.

"Here we go, wimp," Tichy decided. "Here we go. Will you do it voluntarily, or will you do it beaten and bleeding? Those are your options. If I kill you trying to get you to obey, I'll burn what's left of you in the boiler," shrugged Tichy. "No one will care. No one will know."

To Marek's unmitigated horror, the man continued to speak and was now talking about torturing Marek to death and disposing of his body. The boy's eyes literally rolled back in his head for a moment as he nearly fainted. He was still freezing from his ordeal outside and shaking like a leaf from both cold and fear. Would Tichy really kill him? Before today, despite the man's torments, Marek would have said no, but after having been leashed and collared like a dog, dragged outside in the cold on his hands and knees, and made to crawl naked in full view of anyone who happened to be walking near enough to see, the boy thought that Tichy was capable of absolutely anything. And if Tichy disposed of his body in the boiler, it would look like he had run away and disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. Marek could only imagine what that would do to his mother.

The last part of what Tichy said was bullshit, of course. Even if he were insane enough to be a child-murderer, he couldn't burn anything, let alone a fucking body, in a gas burner, but obviously a twelve-year-old kid in an old, hot boiler room where the big, noisy burners went "whoosh" all the time wouldn't know that. Finally, Tichy revealed the game of the day.

"I'm going to start pushing now. And you, you little wimp, are going to eat my shit. You're going to open your mouth for it. You're not going to spill any of it. You'll just eat, chew, and swallow. Take it. This is your last task in this punishment, and you will do it – now, or later, bleeding and beaten, but you will do it tonight. You're not leaving this place alive until you've done it."

And just like that, he grabbed Marek's hair, pulled the boy's face against his ass and gave that much-needed push; a single solid, firm turd slid up into his anus and the tip of it pressed against Marek's tongue and lips. It was ready to come out, straight into the boy's shocked mouth – unless Marek decided to put up a fight, despite hearing what he had just heard.

"Eat shit, wimp," grunted Tichy as he pushed. Eat shit, Glass King's grandson, he thought. Have a nice, big taste of capitalist imperialism.

By the time Tichy finally revealed what he had in store for the boy, Marek was almost relieved to know what he had to do. The boy was so terrified from the man's extended preamble that he probably would have sawed his own leg off with a rusty kitchen knife if the man had commanded it. There was not even a moment's thought given to resistance. Instead, with fresh, hot tears of shame and despondency in his eyes, the trembling youngster, with his face pressed against Tichy's ass, simply opened his mouth to receive the man's feces. The man pushed, sending the tip of his turd out of his anus and directly into the boy's open mouth, where it pressed against the youngster's tongue, hot and clay-like, followed by the rest of the turd before Marek finally closed his lips around it.

"Ahhh," Tichy sighed deeply and relaxed, releasing the boy's head and giving Marek time to work on processing the unthinkable. He waited and waited some more. He didn't say anything or do anything else and simply let the horrendously disgusting and humiliating act take place at its own pace.

Marek was numb as he took the man's waste into his mouth. It slid between his lips like a living-but-alien organism, warm and cloying, as Marek forced himself to clamp down with his lips and teeth and draw the turd into his mouth like a sausage. He paused, then, as he tried to comprehend the fact that he not only had the man's shit in his mouth and on his tongue, but that he would have to masticate it into smaller bits in order to swallow it down. His face turned green as his stomach clenched. He felt that all-too-familiar urge to vomit, to expel, and to spit, but he forced himself to overcome it. And then, somehow, he mustered the courage to begin to chew.

Tichy watched Marek's jaw tense and relax as the boy chewed. He smiled and nodded as Marek attempted to swallow. He raised a warning finger when Marek began to heave and retch, clearly struggling not to just choke it all right back up, probably with an added splash of stomach juices and bile.

The substance in Marek's mouth immediately lived up to its billing as the single-most awful, disgusting, horrific-tasting horror the boy had ever experienced. He forced himself to continue chewing even as he grimaced with distress. Chewing was horrible. It was like eating warm mud, earthy and pungent, but Marek knew full well that it wasn't mud. He also knew that as bad as the chewing part was, swallowing would be far, far worse, and he had no confidence that he would be able to do it. Indeed, as he chewed and prepared to swallow the saliva-and-shit slurry in his mouth, he moaned and flinched as his stomach warned against such an unthinkable act. The boy's face had a greenish-gray pall to it as he considered how he could possibly do what the man commanded.

"No," warned Tichy as he saw the boy starting to lose the battle with his stomach. "Don't even think about it. Get a grip. If you puke this one up, I'll shit another one in your mouth and you'll have another go. And then another go, and another one, until you've literally eaten shit, without fail," warned Tichy.

Marek knew then what would happen if he lost control of his reflexes and vomited. It would just go on and on, endlessly, for as long as the man could make more shit. Tichy was hellbent on seeing the boy debased this way, and it was clear to Marek that this would never end until he had fully ingested the man's waste and swallowed it down.

It took a while for the boy to prevail in the fight against his own stomach, all the while holding the filth in his mouth like a chipmunk. And then, with a moan of horror, he swallowed some with a small gulp, clenched his stomach, and forced himself to do it again. He was eating shit. He was literally swallowing excrement into his stomach as the man looked on.

Gulp after gulp, swallow after swallow, and chew after chew, the boy finished the turd and sent it into his stomach. His eyes were wet with tears, and he looked stunned and sick. For several moments, he came perilously close to vomiting, probably all over the chair and Tichy, too. But with great effort, he fought off the urge and managed to show the man that his mouth was clean, or at least as clean as it could be under the circumstances.

It took an uncomfortably long time for Marek to perform his assigned task but Tichy just waited it out. He made Marek open and close his mouth and show him he had really eaten the chunk of turd that had been shat directly into his mouth, warm and clay-like, filling his nostrils with an overload of putrid stench.

"There's a good little bitch," said Tichy when it was over. "Now, get back to tonguing my hole and listen to me. Listen. You are now a shit-eating wimp. You are the lowest, filthiest, most-disgusting, most-inferior kind of wimp that there is. This means two things. You will never, ever, ever disobey a direct command from me again, ever. You'll eat, you'll study, you'll train, you'll play well next Saturday, and you will not even think about wanking. I'll have eyes on you, and not just my eyes. Your punishment is over, but you will be watched, observed, and checked on," warned Tichy. "So, don't fuck up."

"Secondly, don't ever try and stab me in the back and tattle. Not to Skala, not to the nurse, not to anyone. Because if you do, I could easily deny it and laugh it off, but instead I think I'll tell everyone the truth. I'll tell everyone the whole truth, including this bit here. How I didn't as much as pinch or slap you, and you still got on your knees, opened your mouth, and literally ate shit, Marek. I might lose my job, but boy, oh boy, you won't even be human in people's eyes if they find out about this. So be very careful to keep your wimp mouth zipped."

Tichy, of course, showed the boy no mercy and sent him back to his ass to lick and clean the same hole that had just defiled the boy's mouth with its gruesome offering. As he licked and sucked, Marek listened to the man's words, but they no longer held any real meaning. Marek already knew what he was. He already knew what he had done. Tichy's rules didn't even matter anymore. It was all just white noise to the despondent, defeated child.

"Now," said Tichy as he took a deep breath, "bend over the armchair and pull your ass open for a fucking. I still haven't cum for the second time."

Marek immediately obeyed, draping himself over the armrest of the bedraggled old, upholstered chair, spreading his cane-striped buttocks apart with his fingers, and offering his asshole yet again for the man's carnal pleasure.

Tichy stood up, stepped around the chair, got behind Marek, entered the boy, and proceeded to fuck him. For once, he simply used the boy without any agenda. He didn't make it hurt, or not hurt. He didn't try to make it last nor hasten it along. He simply fucked Marek's ass, indulging what just felt good to him, which turned out to be a bit on the rougher, faster side of boy-butt fucking, but nothing that Marek couldn't handle. After all, the kid was flushed out, well-lubed, and well-stretched. Weirdly, although it still hadn't even been a week since he had lost his cherry to his abuser, the boy now seemed almost used to anal penetration.

Marek was numb as the man mounted him from behind and began to fuck his bottom once again. The boy had lost count of the number of times he had been sodomized. He winced as the man's cock slid against his anal ring and rammed through his sphincter, but he no longer cared if it hurt. Part of him wanted it to hurt to reinforce how awful he felt. It simply didn't matter anymore. He had done the unthinkable. He would do it again if the man insisted. There was no way to stop Tichy or fight him in any way. The man could do whatever he wanted to Marek, and make the boy do whatever he wanted him to do.

The boy still could taste the man's shit in his mouth. It wasn't going to go away until he brushed and rinsed, and even then, Marek had a sense that it would be permanent. It was one of those tastes that, once experienced, never could be forgotten. He had eaten the man's shit from his ass, and Tichy was right: Marek hadn't been forced to do it. He hadn't been tortured, or beaten, or savaged in any way by the man. Tichy had simply told him to eat his shit, and Marek had complied. There was no fight left in the boy, no self-respect, and they both knew it. Marek was, indeed, the lowest form of wimp there was.

For some quarter of an hour, there were only wet, slurping sounds of the penetration and the occasional fart-like sound from Marek's ass as Tichy ploughed deep into it at a sharpish pace, and also the occasional huff and grunt from the teacher. Of course, Tichy knew that for the defeated boy, this also meant 15 minutes with shit in his stomach and the taste and smell of it lingering in his mouth and nose. Little did Marek know that he would be enduring that taste and smell for several hours to come.

Finally, with a brief but decidedly victorious roar of pleasure, Tichy came deep inside Marek's ass and leaned over the boy for a short rest. His cock slowly started to shrink and moments later, Marek was treated to a yet another new sensation in his bowels. This time, it was warm and stinging – almost like another enema – as Tichy emptied his entire bladder into the kid's butt, taking a nice long piss before pulling out.

"Clench your cheeks and don't make any more mess. You're the one cleaning up today," warned Tichy as he pulled the boy to his knees to suck him clean, although in reality his cock probably was far more sanitary at that point than the boy's mouth. Tichy poked at the rags on the floor. They weren't Marek's clothes after all, but discarded items of clothing and cleaning rags.

"Clean yourself up, clean this place up," demanded Tichy. "That includes mopping the floor. Don't leave any mess behind because I'll be back to check. I'll leave the front door unlocked for you so you can leave and go have dinner, but you may not drink anything with your meal. You'll lick your plate clean and remember your rules in the days to come. Your punishment is nearly over, but you will not shower or clean your teeth until tomorrow. You are not to drink anything between now and tomorrow morning when you wake up. Until then, you will taste my shit in your mouth and remember what you did here today. I'll stand as your ally no matter what until after the match on Saturday. No one will touch you. After that, unless you come and earn my allegiance, you're once again on your own, wimp," smirked Tichy as he ruffled the boy's hair one last time.

And then, he simply left. He pulled his clothes on and exited the building through the front door, leaving it unlocked as promised. Silence swallowed the old gymnasium and its lone, naked, occupant.

Marek slowly rose to his feet and pigeon-walked to the bathroom, where he expelled the man's piss into a toilet. He then silently went about the task of cleaning up the boiler room. There was a shitty-water puddle on the floor, a bunch of soggy rags, and a bit of cum that was smeared into the upholstery of the armchair, but not all that much to take care of considering everything that had happened in the space. There was no joy in discovering that his clothes were unsoiled. There were also no more tears. The boy was stone-faced as he dressed. He mopped. He cleaned. He felt nothing. It no longer even mattered to him that his punishment week was over.

When everything was clean, Marek left the gymnasium and walked slowly back to his dorm. The boy was numb from his ordeal, but there was simply no place else for him to go, and despite his complete lack of appetite, he knew he would have to force himself to eat or face Tichy's wrath once again. He walked with his shoulders hunched over, braced against the cold wind. The elation that he had felt when he first arrived at the gym was long gone, replaced by an overriding feeling of despondency, helplessness, and self-loathing. After today, the boy knew that he would never be the same again. He had eaten shit. He was a shit-eater. He would always be a shit-eater, from now on, for the rest of his life. He couldn't ever take it back, and that was the worst thing of all.

Chapter Ten

When Marek arrived back at the dorm, he said nothing to anyone, not even to his roommate. Radek seemed to sense that Marek wasn't in a good state of mind and mostly tried to not draw attention to himself, but he did ask him if he needed anything, and even offered Marek a chocolate bar. He thought this might help to cheer Marek up – not realizing that a turd-shaped, brown, chewy nougat bar was the very last thing the boy wanted anywhere near his mouth after his experience. Marek shook his head at Radek's offer, not even looking at the other boy as he did so. He did not speak. His expression was vacant, far away, and seemingly sad.

Marek went alone to the canteen, sitting by himself for dinner and forcing himself to eat. He wasn't hungry and only reluctantly cleaned his plate to avoid yet another punishment from Tichy. No one paid him any attention during his meal, and therefore no one noticed that Marek drank nothing as he ate. Nor did he drink anything after dinner, much less did he speak to anyone. No one noticed when he failed to brush his teeth before bed. He retired early and curled up under his top covers well before lights out. He fell asleep trying not to think about how thirsty he was and how much he hated himself.

He awoke early the next morning. Taking his toothpaste and toothbrush with him, Marek rushed to the bathroom, where he spent the next 50 minutes brushing his teeth over, and over, and over, and over again. During this time, many of his dormmates came and went from the bathroom, including some who needed to use the stalls, but Marek never so much as looked in their direction. He just stared at the mirror, as if transfixed or lost in thought, as he brushed, and brushed, and brushed, and brushed some more. He brushed until his gums were bleeding, spat the blood into the sink, then brushed some more and even more after that. It was nearly an hour before he returned to his room.

Tichy was right about one thing, however: Nobody laid so much as a finger on Marek. Not that day, not that evening, and not the following day. During the week, Tichy confirmed Marek as a striker for the junior match, and he and his teammates trained hard. Even during practice, no one pushed or hit him, much less tried to provoke him, or start a fight. There were no taunts, jibes, or mockery directed his way. Even Radek seemed to be trying to be friendly. Although his offers of board and card games were a bit clumsy, after weeks of cold treatment they were the equivalent of an extended olive branch, suggesting that a thawing of relations was in the works. If it were not for the all-too-fresh memory of his extreme and perhaps ultimate debasement at the hands of Tichy, the week could well have been Marek's best at the internat since he had arrived.

Despite the "good" week that did not involve him being beaten up by the other boys or raped by Tichy, Marek continued to be in despair at his situation. He hadn't made any real or lasting friends, and nobody seemed to like him. That included his teachers. He could not see any real future for himself at the school and it seemed obvious that he was not a good fit. Even with Mr. Tichy off his back, there seemed no real reason to remain at the internat.

Thus, on Wednesday of that week, three days before the Saturday football match against Technoglass, Marek sat down at his desk and began to write. First, he wrote a letter to his mother advising her that he was homesick, struggling at the school, and that he did not wish to return for the second term. That letter was easy to write, and when he was done with it, he left it in its envelope – unsealed as was required by school rules – to take to the office the next day to be mailed.

Then he sat down and tried to write a note to Mr. Tichy quitting the football team. That letter, however, proved much more difficult to compose. He wrote one version, only to crumple up the sheet and discard it in his wastepaper basket. He wrote another version, but again the words did not come out quite right. He tried a third time but crumpled up the sheet once again. He felt numb as he wrote. He loved playing football, and the words to quit the team would not flow the way he wanted them to. He tried again, and again. Four, five, six, seven times he wrote, but each time, the words were not right. By the third or fourth attempt, he had a pit in his stomach at what he was writing. In the end, he lost his courage and went to lie down on his bed.

When Marek left the room later that day, Radek immediately went to the waste basket and retrieved the notes that Marek had discarded. He uncrumpled and read them, looking furtively about the room as he remembered Mr. Tichy's instructions. Report anything unusual, Mr. Tichy had commanded him, and although Radek dreaded it, he now knew that he would have to go to the man. A few minutes later, he knocked on Mr. Tichy's office door with all seven of Marek's draft letters in hand.

Tichy was seated as his desk when the knock came. He allowed the boy to enter and then read the wrinkled letters one by one. A frown crossed his face as he leaned back in his chair and poured himself a shot of vodka. He knocked it back in one gulp, slamming the shot glass down so hard on the desk that it was a small miracle it didn't smash. Radek nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound.

"You have nothing to worry about," Tichy said as he forced a smile at the frightened redhead. Radek looked stricken. It was a shame that the Kinter boy was so ugly. He was one of those kids who was so easy to intimidate that it wasn't even sporting to try. A devoted, fearful pet like Radek definitely wouldn't tattle about any attention he received and could easily be one of the students getting more of it from Tichy, but the man just wasn't interested in the pudgy, first-year boy.

"I want you to find Taus," Tichy told Radek. "Tell him to tell Marek that there's an extra training session this afternoon at 4 o'clock in the gym to discuss game strategy," said Tichy. "Have him tell Marek that he had better not be late. Also, tell Taus not to tell anyone else about it and not to go anywhere near the gym himself. Now, shoo," he told the anxious boy, "and don't screw this up and leave me waiting in the gym alone, or I'll have you back here again to explain yourself. Understood?"

Marek was in his room when Taus came to see him about the extra practice. His blood instantly ran cold at the boy's words. 4 o'clock, in the gym? That was a bad time as well as a bad place for Marek, and Taus's instructions conjured up nothing but unsavory memories. It had been several days since his punishment ended, but what he heard made Marek instantly sick to his stomach.

"For e-everyone?" Marek asked his teammate, concern evident in his voice. But Taus looked sheepish and didn't answer directly; he just reiterated the time and the place, telling Marek that he had to be there on Tichy's instructions to discuss game strategy.

Marek was full of dread. Tichy had told him that his punishment was over, and the boy was on his third day of peace. He didn't want to go to the gym, especially not at that hour. But shortly before the appointed time and filled with anxiety, he walked to the deserted-looking gymnasium, opened the unlocked front door, and entered the building.

Tichy was standing to the side of the door and he moved to block Marek's retreat as soon as the boy walked through. At the same time, he threw a handful of little paper balls at him. Most of them hit the face of the startled, cringing boy, bouncing off and falling to the floor. The little wads of paper were smaller and much more tightly crumpled than they had been when Radek first extracted them from Marek's wastebasket.

Marek nearly jumped out of his skin as Tichy surprised him just inside the doorway. It was obvious that the man had been waiting for him to arrive, and one look at Tichy's face told him that the man was not pleased. The boy went completely still, his eyes glimmering with tears. All the worst memories of punishment week came rushing back to him in that moment, especially the fear – the sheer, unadulterated terror that the man kindled in him when they were alone together. There was no doubt that they were alone now. The gymnasium was as quiet and dark as a tomb. By the man's design, this was to be a private meeting.

"Pick those up, " said Tichy, neutrally, but with a coldness that was warning enough. "Open them." He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, ready to watch Marek get down on his knees and obey. There were no other boys anywhere in sight, and there was no question in the man's mind that Marek would do exactly as he had been told. If not, Tichy would remind him of the penalty for disobedience.

With a red face, Marek knelt on the floor and gathered the crumpled pieces of paper. As he did so, he cringed. He was worried sick. Tichy was angry about something, that much was clear. Would the man cane him? Beat him? Worse? Marek now knew that none of his teammates had been summoned to the gym. This was clearly a set up designed to get him to the building alone. He had half expected that, but now it was confirmed. It was just him and Tichy, together and alone, and Marek knew that he hadn't been summoned to the gym to discuss game strategy.

With trembling hands, Marek unwrapped the first note. His heart sank into his stomach when he saw the words printed on the paper. He now knew exactly what the crumpled balls of paper were.

"Mr. Tichy …" he started to say, but his voice trailed off. What could he say? It was all he could do not to start hyperventilating in terror. Each of the notes involved his resignation from the football team, but he had never found the right words or had the nerve to go through with it. Now Tichy had them all, anyway. Marek felt doomed. The man was going to kill him.

"You are an absolute, pathetic little wimp, Marek," Tichy began, his voice cold and his gaze one of contempt. "Football is one of the few things you happen to be good at, and now you want to quit the team because you feel all sorry for yourself. I have news for you: You are not quitting the team. You are our striker for the přátelák this Saturday and you are going to play in that game. Not only are you going to play, you are going to play well, and if I even begin to think that you are giving anything less than your very best effort, after the game I will drag you here to the gymnasium where no one can hear you and torture you within an inch of your life. Do not doubt me on that, Marek. Do not test me. Your teammates are counting on you and you will not let them down. More importantly, I am counting on you, and you will not, under any circumstances, let me down."

Save for his trembles, Marek remained still as Tichy spoke. He wiped tears from both eyes, hating himself for being so weak – for crying – but unable to prevent himself from doing so. He had been too scared to send the notes. He had thrown them in the trash. It had been Radek! Fucking Radek! Marek's expression went from terrified to sullen and angry as Tichy spoke. He forced himself to look contrite so that Tichy wouldn't think the anger was directed at him, but he vowed to himself that Radek would pay. He would pay dearly for this. The boy shook with both fear and anger.

"This game is important to the school and it's a matter of personal pride to me," Tichy continued. "I hate Buseš, the coach from Technoglass," Tichy continued. "His school is bigger than ours and he has more and better athletes to work with, but PISKG has a winning record against Technoglass since I have been here. So, on Saturday, you will play, and you'll play the best game that you are physically capable of playing. Don't even think about sabotaging the match, or I'll hurt you in ways that you can't possibly even imagine. After the match, you can come to me in person – there will be no notes or anything wimpy like that – and discuss football, and quitting football, face to face. Until then, you're a footballer on the school team, and you had better be a good one. Questions?"

"No, sir," said Marek evenly, as the man finished. The boy didn't have any questions. He had already decided to play in the game, but based on this conversation, he would not be implementing his backup plan to get sent off with a foul early in the first half. Tichy would skin him alive if he did that.

"Good," replied Tichy. "And by the way, before you rip Radek a new asshole, try to imagine what you would do if your choice was between ratting out your roommate if he does anything unusual or suspicious as I've instructed him to do, or a full-scale punishment session with me if he doesn't obey. There's no room for him between those two options, Marek. But, if you do decide to beat him up, to make it fair you might want to wait until after the match, because he's not even allowed to fight back until Sunday."

Tichy paused for moment to let that sink in. "Now, get up and go. You've learned all you needed to learn about Saturday's match for now. Training's over," smiled Tichy as he stepped aside and unblocked the door.

Marek looked furtively up at the man as he confirmed that Radek was behind the procurement of the draft letters. It was surprising to hear Tichy admit that Radek was a spy for him, even if Marek already knew that to be the case. The boy had to admit that Tichy had a point about Radek's dilemma. But what was this about the kid not even being allowed to fight back until Sunday? The game was on Saturday. What did Tichy mean? Had Tichy made it clear that everybody was to leave Marek alone until after the match? Was that why the other boys almost seemed to be avoiding him? Radek couldn't even fight back if Marek tried to beat him up? That was crazy. But what did that mean for Marek after Saturday? What would happen to him then? Would it be open season again on him?

Marek was very worried by what he had heard. Tichy stepped aside as the boy got to his feet, and Marek was shocked to learn that he could go, but he wanted to ask the man about his last comment. What would happen to him after the match? What was going to happen on Sunday? Marek suddenly was full of anxiety. He couldn't leave until he knew what Tichy had planned for him. He hesitated.

"You're free to go," Tichy reiterated to the boy. "I didn't bring you here to punish you. I include myself under my own rules. Besides, I need you strong, and in good shape and unharmed, so you can play well on Saturday. Not to mention that you've already completed your punishment in full," smirked Tichy, as he recalled the grand finale to Marek's ordeal. "That earned you five days of my protection, as I said on Monday, in case you missed it. We're allies until then. Enjoy it while it lasts," he said as he cocked his head, encouraging Marek to bugger off.

Marek still didn't leave. The man's words frightened him. What would happen after Saturday? What did Tichy mean? How many other boys did he have on his side? Were they all spying on Marek?

Suddenly, the boy's blood ran cold. If Tichy knew about the notes, did he also know about the letter he had sent to his mother? He had said very clearly in that letter that he didn't want to return to the school for the next term. Had Radek seen him write it? Had another boy seen him as he took it to the office to be mailed? Had the school secretary read it and given it to Mr. Skala? School rules required him to bring it to the office unsealed for mailing. Marek felt very uneasy. He had been hoping to make it to the break without any other issues, but now it seemed like that wouldn't be possible.

"What happens to me after Saturday?" he asked the man directly, in as steady a voice as he could muster. There was no sense in beating around the bush.

"We're no longer allies," shrugged Tichy and reached for a pack of smokes, lighting a Startka. "Not enemies, either, unless you give me a reason. But you're still a Hurta, and the boys still seem keen on reminding you about that, so I guess after Saturday they'll start showing it again as my protection expires."

Tichy deliberately didn't go into too much detail, but he did drop Marek an important hint by emphasizing his surname. It would be interesting to see how the kid reacted.

Marek listened carefully to the man's words. They sounded almost like a death sentence. Tichy had been protecting him, but what would happen when he stopped? It sounded ominous to the boy, like every kid in the school wanted to beat him up. He couldn't fight all of them. Marek just wanted to make it to the break in one piece so he could go home, never to return. Tichy also had emphasized his last name. What did that have to do with anything? Why did the man hate him so? Why did the other boys hate him?

Marek now knew that he needed Tichy's help to get through the next few weeks until he could return home for good. He didn't want to say what he said next, but he felt like he didn't have a choice.

"We could be allies if you want," he said in a hopeful voice.

"Hmmm?" Tichy took a long drag on the Startka. "Well … fine then. Sunday at four in my office? Not for punishment, but … the basic drill will be very similar," smiled Tichy. And there it was. The full price to have Tichy as an ally laid out for Marek to consider.

"Don't answer now. Think about it," said Tichy as he stepped around the boy and pushed him out of the gymnasium so that he could lock up.

Marek backpedaled as the man pushed him out of the door, but he still didn't turn to leave. As much as he had been terrified to come to the gymnasium in the first place, now he was scared to depart. He needed to know what would happen after Saturday's game. Were the other boys going to come for him? What would happen if he didn't agree to see Tichy on Sunday? Would he be beaten up? Would Tichy actually do that to him? And why had the man emphasized his last name? What did he mean that the boy was "still a Hurta"?

Marek realized that he was an outsider and that he had no Party connections, but his family had lived in this region for many, many years. Marek's grandfather – his father's father, and therefore also named Hurta – had owned a factory somewhere near here before the war. His uncle had told Marek once that his grandfather had been an important man before the communists came to power. But none of that had helped the boy at the school, where he had been unable to make even so much as a single friend. Indeed, Tichy was making it sound like every boy in the school had turned against him – or would, as soon as the man's protection ran out.

"Mr. Tichy, um, the other boys- they, um …" he started to tell the man. But it just all seemed so hopeless. Perhaps if he told the man that he wasn't coming back, that he was leaving the school after this term, Tichy would protect him for just a little longer. He, as well as the boys and even some of Marek's teachers, would be happy to see Marek go. It was their school, and he was the outsider; Marek was reconciled to that fact. He just needed to survive at the school for three more weeks, and if everyone knew that he was leaving, maybe they would all just leave him alone until he did.

"I'm not coming back after the break," he told the man in a stoic voice.

Tichy just looked at the boy and listened, and for once, he kept any sarcastic, teasing, or mocking comments to himself. It was amusing to see Marek so flustered and stammering as his little world seemed to be closing in around him. Now the boy understood why his week had gone so well and had been free from bullying, fights, and beatings, but Tichy was disappointed that Marek didn't take the bait and ask for an explanation of why his surname was a part of the trouble. The man planned to tell him if he did; instead, Marek dropped what he must have thought was the ultimate bomb about not returning to the school. Tichy merely smiled, apparently unperturbed.

"We'll see about that, we'll see," he said smugly, as if he knew something the boy didn't, which was very much the case. "Meanwhile, if you get tired of having your ass kicked and decide you could do with an ally between the match and Christmas, which is still three weeks away, you know where to come, and how to come," he chuckled.

"Anything else?" he asked. If the boy didn't ask about his heritage, he would have to have a word with Hanák and have him give Marek a little primer on his grandfather as part of a history lesson. It was time that the boy understood a bit more about his own family history.

Marek didn't understand the man's response. What did he mean that they would "see" about whether he came back to the school? Marek already knew that he wasn't coming back. His mother would be disappointed, of course, but Marek's will would prevail. He was an only child, and he knew how to get his way when he needed to. He had already written to her, setting the stage. Soon he would receive his train ticket home, and that would be the end of things here. He wasn't ever coming back. Even Tichy couldn't make him return.

Greatly disturbing to Marek, however, was the man's matter-of-fact reference to him being beaten up. The other boys had been unkind and getting worse and more aggressive before his punishment week started, and it had been getting more and more difficult to avoid them or fight them off. The bullying and harassment had stopped since his sessions with Tichy began. The man obviously had been protecting him, but that was all about to end after the match, and the man seemed to know exactly what would happen to Marek when it did. Would Mr. Tichy arrange to have him beaten up? Marek knew that Tichy had boys he could control and command, but it never was exactly clear to him who they were. Except for Radek, of course. Marek knew about him, now, for sure.

Despite his fear of the man, Marek still didn't want to leave until he had his situation sorted out. He had many more questions to ask, but he wasn't sure how to ask them. There was also another thing on his mind, and he decided to pursue the topic.

"Did you know that I didn't cheat in Mr. Drabek's class?" he asked the man suddenly.

"Oh, is that true?" Tichy asked, and it really sounded like a question, like he didn't already know the answer. He tried to look mildly concerned. "Well, sooner or later there would have been a punishment," he explained dismissively. "Sooner or later you would have found out you're a wimp, anyway. It's a bit sad if you discovered it while being punished for something you didn't do, but there was physical evidence, Marek. Drabek sounded pretty sure that he caught you cheating red-handed, and I can't disrespect my colleagues and question them in situations like that," said Tichy with a shrug.

"But – and only on the assumption that you're not trying for sympathy by lying to me – I'm sorry if you were punished unfairly, for what it's worth. It doesn't change a thing, sadly, either about right now, or about what happens after Saturday."

The man's response almost sounded fair to Marek, at least with respect to Drabek's class. The boy took at face value that it meant Tichy himself hadn't arranged for the cheat sheet to be placed in his book by one of his minions. He had considered that possibility before, but Tichy was denying knowledge of it, and to Marek's knowledge the man had never lied to him. The boy had to give credit to Tichy for that.

Marek shrugged as well, as if the week of punishments that he endured unfairly wasn't a concern to him. Tichy was right that it hardly mattered. Marek's guilt or innocence didn't change a thing, and the whole cheating scandal almost seemed like an ancient memory at this point. It was so meaningless that the boy didn't even bother to confirm to Mr. Tichy that he was, indeed, telling the truth.

"You know you made me do those things," he replied instead to the wimp comment. His voice sounded defensive and a little desperate. Marek was very embarrassed at the things he had done, especially the last one. "You know I didn't want to."

"Marek," said Tichy as he shook his head and took a deep drag on his cigarette. "I'm not half bad at making people do things that I want them to do, that's true. But a big part of that skill is asking the right things of the right people and knowing what not to ask them to do. There are some 120 boys at this school at any given time. That means, since I started working here, that I've met more than a thousand individual boys. More than a thousand. All of them obeyed me in one way or another. Some, but not all that many, are wimps who opted to take my cock up their ass or down their throat instead of the cane. Some may have even come back voluntarily for more."

Tichy paused for effect. He was about to lower the boom on the fragile kid.

"But no one, not one of the more than a thousand boys I've met in my whole career, ever sunk as low as you did," Tichy continued. "You're the only shit-eater I've met in my entire life, so don't put that on me. You can only make people do things that they are prepared to do, Marek, and you were willing. I created the circumstances, admittedly, but you chose how to play the game. You willingly sucked my cock, enjoyed having your ass fucked by me, and ate my shit without a second thought all in the span of the single week. You can try to lay it on me if you want, but you're still the first and only boy who ever ate my shit. And you didn't even put up a fight, Marek," Tichy continued somewhat sadly. "I had four years to work on some of the other boys, not the six days I had with you, and they still never stooped as low as you did."

Although it was an adult conversation, one of the participants was a mere child, and tears formed in Marek's eyes and began to roll down his cheeks as the man cut him to pieces. He didn't even bother to wipe them away. They just formed and overflowed his eyes as he listened to Tichy speak. There was nothing the boy could say in his defense. He now knew that the man had been challenging him the entire time, over the whole week of punishments, and that Marek had failed every challenge from day one, debasing himself more and more until Tichy had given him the worst, lowest, most-evil, unprecedented test – and Marek had failed that, too. Without even a fight. Without even a protest.

Tichy looked down at the boy, putting on a display of contempt as he took another deep drag on his cigarette. He had really laid it on thick, trying to destroy whatever self-esteem Marek had left. While it was true that no other boy had eaten his shit before, he'd also never before tried to make any of them do it. He had never done what he did to Marek to any other boy at the school. Tichy knew that he had put more cruel and unrelenting pressure on Marek during the boy's punishment week than any 12-year-old boy possibly could withstand. While Tichy wouldn't have tried to bully some of the other kids in the first place – the ones with prominent fathers in and around the Liberec region, especially – there wasn't a kid at the school who would have been able to stand up to the extreme treatment he had doled out to Marek, and that included the upperclassmen.

But the Hurta boy wouldn't know any of that. Marek's head hung and he looked stricken and disgusted with himself as Tichy marveled once again at just how easy it was to manipulate and control the young boys who boarded at the school. At the end of the day, most of them were fragile, and Marek was no exception. The boy no doubt already had internalized that he was the lowest of the low, a special kind of wimp for which there was no precedent, and that's exactly what Tichy wanted him to think.

"I w-was scared," the desperate boy tried to explain. He was stammering now, so full of doubt and uncertainty. "You said- y-you said you would kill me."

But even as he spoke up and tried to defend himself, the boy was full of self-loathing. Even under threat of death, how could he have eaten shit? How? HOW? How could he have done that? And had all Tichy's threats been lies, just to test him? Marek feared the man's answer before he even heard it.

"Yeah, you were scared, and I knew that," replied Tichy. "You were so scared I knew you'd do anything, so I made you do … anything." The man paused for a moment before continuing. "You can't burn a body in a gas boiler, dumbass. I can get away with a lot here. A lot. Don't ever doubt that, not for a second. But not a murder, kid. I mean, especially an unplanned murder of a student in cold blood on school grounds, with my whereabouts unaccounted for and everything covered in my fingerprints," Tichy admitted coolly. "If you kill someone, all bets are off. Even the Nazis knew that, and the Nazis really weren't very smart. They lost the friggin' war for a reason, even with a bunch of wimps like you and your kind sucking up to them and collaborating," smirked Tichy as he dropped yet another hint.

"Besides, a bunch of my boys knew you were with me, and if the cops came, someone would probably tattle at the end of the day, just to get rid of me."

Tichy saw Marek's eyes go wide at that comment and he chuckled. "Don't give me that look. I didn't tell them, just like I promised, not even that we were together. But think about it for a second. If there's a small number of boys here getting their asses fucked on a regular basis, and they all talk and know each other, and suddenly none of them are getting toyed with or fucked, and you're gone from the dorm, and known to be with me being punished …" Tichy shrugged.

Marek had never really had a conversation like this before. He had never so directly challenged an adult – much less an adult he feared – with such straight-up, non-emotional statements and questions as he had presented to Tichy. Yet, as he listened to the man's words, he realized that he also had never had an adult – much less an authority figure – cut him down so efficiently and ruthlessly.

His statements to Tichy had been entirely candid, unemotional, and matter-of-fact, and so had been the man's responses. Tichy smoked and delivered his words so casually, in such an unfettered, unvarnished way, that there was no question that he was simply telling Marek the facts as he saw them. To Tichy, Marek was the worst wimp he had seen of any boy who ever had attended the school. And how could Marek deny it? It was all true. And even as the boy desperately wished he could go back in time and take the 25 blows with the slipper that very first day, the facts were as Tichy had stated them. Marek had done those things. He had wimped out of his original punishment. He had embarked down that path. Eventually, he had sunk so low that he had eaten the man's shit right out of his ass without so much as a word of complaint.

"Now, I'm showing you some of my cards here, but if we ever play again, don't for a moment think you'll use my tricks against me," the man continued. "Even though you now know I can't kill you, I could drag you back into the boiler room, right now, having just told you this, and torture you within an inch of your life. I'm really good at that, Marek. Really good, and I'll do it, too. You really don't want to test me on that. I could also make you eat shit again whenever I want you to. You're a shit-eater, Marek. The lowest of the low. Once a shit-eater, always a shit-eater. You can't ever fix it or take it back. It's permanent. You're just going to have to learn to live with what you are."

Marek was simply stunned with the candor of the man's response. While he didn't like what he was hearing, the man's willingness to tell him the truth was breathtaking. Marek tried to think of a time the man had lied to him or broken a promise, and he couldn't think of one instance. Well, of course, Tichy had lied about killing him, but he was right – Marek should have known better. The boy could hardly use that as an excuse for what he had done. He imagined telling somebody he knew that he had eaten shit because one of his teachers had threatened to kill him on the spot and incinerate his body in the boiler if he didn't. Even to Marek, it seemed ridiculous in the light of day. But it had seemed so real at the time. He had been absolutely petrified of what Mr. Tichy would do to him if he refused. He well remembered that feeling of absolute terror.

But at the end of the day, Tichy had just played him like the wimp he was. In barely a week of trying, he had destroyed Marek. He had set out to challenge the boy, and Marek had failed every test of courage with a wimp's response. No other boy had ever sunk so low. And, yet, Marek had felt powerless at the time. Now he knew why: He was the worst wimp in the history of the school. He knew one other thing, too: Despite the man's threat, he would never eat shit again. He would die first, even if Tichy tortured him to death. He wouldn't eat shit because he would never again sink that low! Never!

Marek stood before the man with tears in his eyes as his sense of self-worth evaporated before his eyes. He felt worthless. He could not deny a thing the man said. Tichy's explanation left only one question in the boy's mind. There was just one thing that remained unanswered. There was only one additional explanation that needed to be made.

"Why do you h-hate me so much?" the boy asked in a tremulous voice. Marek needed to know why the man had singled him out and destroyed him like this. "And don't say you don't. Don't lie to me. I- I want to know why."

Tichy smiled smugly at the boy's question. So, Marek had figured it out. The man certainly had dropped enough hints, but the minds of 12-year-old boys didn't always pick up on such things. Marek had been smart enough to figure out that there was something else going on here. Something that motivated his nemesis to do the cruel and horrific things that had been done to the boy over the course of his punishment week. It was a delicious moment, really, but Marek still didn't know that he had been deliberately brought to the school to answer and suffer for his heritage and ancestry. Learning that little fact might cause the kid's mind to pop like a balloon.

"Just how badly do you want to find out, Marek? It's not a small question you're asking, and it's kind of a long answer, too." said Tichy as he proceeded to unlock the door to the gymnasium once again. "I won't stand out here in the cold, wasting my breath. I'll sit in the armchair in the boiler room with a nice warm mouth around my cock, and I'll tell you all about it, the whole, long story. In as much detail as you want or could possibly need. But of course, once you start sucking my cock … you know you'll have to finish. So, if you want to know, you come to the boiler room, strip naked and get on your knees and put those wimp lips around my cock."

And then, not giving Marek a chance to say yes, or no, or anything, he opened the door, slipped into the gymnasium, and walked right into the boiler room, sitting down on the armchair and lighting up.

In what had become an afternoon of stunning disclosures, the man's response to Marek's inquiry was the most stunning of all. Tichy did hate him. It wasn't just Marek being paranoid. It wasn't just the boy's imagination. The man had just admitted that he hated the boy and that he had his reasons for it! Marek tried to think what he could possibly have done to deserve the man's hatred. Was it because he had "wimp" written all over his forehead? The boy knew that Tichy despised wimps, but he also knew that Tichy had gone out of his way to set Marek up for failure. It couldn't have all been an accident. It couldn't have all been innocent fun. Tichy really did hate him for some reason, and that explained a lot.

Tichy thought it was about an even chance that Marek would come. He wasn't holding his breath, but if the boy didn't pay the stated price for the story now, he was going to pay with interest for the same information down the line. He would also find out in a far less private way, especially if Tichy could get Comrade Hanák to play ball. So Tichy leaned back in his chair and relaxed. He would wait for as long as it took him to smoke a cigarette slowly and lazily and then he would leave. Unless the boy were to come, of course, which would be lovely. Marek was a talented cocksucker, and Tichy was in the mood for a blowjob.

Marek watched the door close again as Tichy disappeared inside. The man had made the price of knowledge painfully clear, and for a moment, Marek considered taking him up on it. The boy wanted to know the answer to his question more than anything. But sucking the man's cock when he didn't have to would be yet another notch on his wimp belt, and Marek couldn't bring himself to do it. In addition, he was still scared of the man, and he worried that Tichy would do even worse to him than make him suck cock once he had him alone in the boiler room. Threats of him being tortured to the brink of death still hung freshly in the air. And so, with his head full of new information and troubling thoughts, Marek turned to return to his dorm room.

Tichy finished his smoke and chuckled at Marek's no-show in a dry, raspy sort of way. He was trying to be nonchalant about the boy's decision, but it wasn't working. Tichy was angry, and eventually, he would make the boy pay severely for standing him up. For now, however, patience was a virtue, so he left the gym and went to his apartment, which was located on the short side of the L-shaped building that included the boys' dorm. The long side of the L was for the boys, and the short side provided housing for some of the staff. At present, the small flats were occupied by him, Hanák, Drábek, the nurse, and Vácha the janitor and his family. An additional three units stood empty, one of which was furnished and regularly used by by Černý, the assistant headmaster, administrator, and math teacher, to cheat on his wife. Once at his apartment, Tichy waited for Hanák to appear and then had a brief conversation with him. As expected, Hanák was more than willing to go along with his plan.

Tichy made sure not to be alone with Marek anywhere the following day, which was another good day for the boy, with no one as much as muttering an insult at him. For his part, Tichy simply ignored Marek. There was no revenge, nor any hint from the man that his offer to tell all had been a standing one. Everything was as good as it could be for a lonely, dispirited 12-year-old boy with fresh memories of a cock up his ass and down his throat, and the taste of shit all over his mouth.

And then, at around 10:20 a.m. on Friday morning, Hanák took a detour from his final lesson on the Hussites and branched into some collateral topics. At first, he gave his standard lesson on the treachery and moral downfall of the Hussites at Lipany, where the Hussite nobility supposedly betrayed the working-class rebellion, only to be punished by fate not all that many years later at the 1620 battle of Bila Hora, where the Hussites themselves finally were defeated and deposed. The crushing of the rebellion was the point of the lecture, as it ended the closest Bohemia had come to socialism before 1948. It would be another 325 years after Lipany before the dreams of the rebels could be realized in the form of the socialist state.

Hanák then veered off topic to discuss the history of the local region, which was in fact poor, unimportant, and barely inhabited at all in the Hussite era. He told of how the local Czechs finally gained momentum against the local Germanic population after the First World War, and how the local glass industry – previously almost entirely in the hands of the Sudeten Germans who were often in league with the old nobility and the Austro-Hungarian emperor – finally took off in the late twenties and early thirties. How Technoglass, back then Cornella, was founded and earned its capable founder, known as the Glass King, hundreds of thousands of koruna – worth much more then of course because of historical inflation – then millions, tens of millions, and in the end, hundreds of millions.

He explained how this all initially benefited the local Czechs, with schools and hospitals being built and many a person being employed on a fair wage, only for it all to be betrayed in World War II, with many local inhabitants sent to die in German concentration camps, while others were forced to work for almost no wage, all of them hungry, sick, weak, scared, and broken, making military glass components for the Glass King, who was supplying them to Hitler and the Nazis. Of course, Hitler and the Glass King got their comeuppance after the war when the Soviets rescued Czechoslovakia from Nazi clutches, but by that time the Glass King's traitorous betrayal already had hurt and killed so many from this very region. Not to mention the unfair, ludicrous riches that the evil man had used to buy yachts and build a castle-like villa for himself, while his workers toiled for meager wages, with no socialist programs and safety nets like universal healthcare and job security.

Marek's interest in the history lesson picked up a bit as Hanák spoke about the glass factory that used to be in this area. He almost considered raising his hand to mention that his grandfather had owned such a factory somewhere nearby, but then the boy remembered where and who he was, and he thought better of it. It was a good thing, too, as the owner of the factory of which Hanák spoke eventually exploited his workers and collaborated with the Nazis during the war, all in horrible ways, leading to death, oppression, and betrayal, as well as the unforgivable exploitation of the working class.

Marek's mind was starting to wander just a bit, when, at long last, Hanák spoke the name of the villain of the story, the man heretofore known only as the Glass King. The teacher led up to the disclosure with a dramatic pause before speaking the name aloud, almost as the punchline to a long anecdote.

The man's name was Hurta. Josef Hurta.

For a moment, the classroom descended into absolute silence as the name seemed to echo, reverberate, and louden in the utter silence. Hurta. HURTA. H U R T A.

Moments later, all eyes, even of boys who had never given him the time of day, suddenly turned to stare at Marek, their expressions full of hatred and rage.

Marek sat up a bit straighter in his chair, almost but not quite as if he had been called on by the teacher. He swallowed as the eyes of his classmates turned to him. His cheeks flared pink. The disclosure had taken him by surprise. Was the man … his grandfather? He swallowed again. It seemed likely. No, it seemed probable – even certain. Hurta was not a common name. The boy knew no one else with that surname. The odds of an unrelated Hurta owning a nearby glass factory were infinitesimal to the point of ludicrous. It was his grandfather, alright: Josef Hurta, the Glass King. Enemy of the people.

Marek didn't move as the eyes of his classmates bored into him. He didn't react. He didn't speak. His heart raced in his chest, but he sat stoically and still, wishing with all his might that he could be somewhere else – anywhere else. Hanák gave Marek only the briefest glance, with one eyebrow raised disapprovingly and his mouth pursed in disgust. He didn't say anything directly to the boy nor did his eyes linger on him, but that single look was enough. It was a look of utter disdain and pure contempt.

Marek's mouth was dry as Hanák resumed the lecture and the eyes of the other boys slowly looked away from him and back to the blackboard. Aside from his rigid, motionless posture, his blush, and his accelerated heart rate and breathing, Marek gave no sign that the man of whom Hanák spoke was his relation, but he didn't have to. Everyone knew. Now the other boys had a real reason to hate him. Based on what Hanák had said, his grandfather had been an evil man. A capitalist in the worst, most-exploitative sense. Even Marek was revolted and he knew that most of the boys at the school came from this region. His own family had moved away decades ago, but most of the other boys lived here. And now Marek had returned.

Hanák returned to telling the class about the Hussites and how the Utraquists joined with the papists to betray their common brethren, with a few exceptions like Jan Roháč z Dubé, who fought with the commoners and was hanged in the aftermath of the battle. He told the class how 21 of the richest and most powerful of the traitors were executed by the new Catholic king when they refused to surrender their newly won freedoms and re-establish ties with Rome. He explained how two centuries of darkness, forced Catholicism, and Germanization followed, with the Czech language and the early socialist ideals of the Hussites almost dying out, only to be revived once again when the nation started to reawaken in the late 19th Century, and then move towards Internationalism, Communism, and progress over the first half of the 20th century.

When he was finished with the lecture, Hanák scribbled a few dates, places of battles and names onto the chalkboard.

"These will almost certainly be in the test, so write them down and learn them, thick skulls," he told the class.

To Marek's dismay, one of the names scrawled on the chalkboard was "Josef Hurta – Glass King."

No one dared challenge Marek after the class. There were only the looks, but of those, there were plenty, and they weren't nice ones, not by a long shot. Beyond the epithets and curse words, there were mutterings and whispers, as well.

"The nerve, too, to return to Brod!"

"Imagine not even changing his name."

"Like the family isn't ashamed at all."

"He's probably proud of it."

"My father says that the Nazis never really left Europe, they just went underground."

"And imagine, he'll be playing against his grandfather's old company team in the přátelák."

"He'll probably throw the game."

"I bet he scores into his own net and makes it look like an accident."

"Comrade Tichy shouldn't even let him play."

Eventually, the boys dispersed, but for the rest of the day, they gave Marek the absolute silent treatment. No one spoke to him, and no one even seemed to want to sit or stand anywhere near the boy so as not to appear to anyone else that they were with him. By the end of the day, the roughly two-meter bubble around the boy started to feel almost tangible as the rumor of Marek's ancestry spread throughout the school. No one now so much as even walked near Marek, and that included Radek and Taus, but the comments continued – most of them whispered, but not all.

"Look at him strutting around like he owns the place, the Nazi."

"Why did he even come here?"

"I can't wait until Sunday."

"Yeah, me, too."

"Then he'll pay."

Marek could hear the boys talking about him, and he felt even more isolated as the day went on. A black pall of dread had descended over him and it was almost palpable. He had three weeks to go, but would he survive it? He could not get the dry, nervous feeling out of his mouth. The other boys were so distant to him that he felt almost like an enemy soldier trapped behind the lines. Now he was the enemy; Comrade Hanák had seen to that, but Hanák wasn't even his biggest problem. Marek knew that he was a shit-eating wimp and hated outsider, and Mr. Tichy's protection rapidly was running out.

He had never fit in here. And now, it seemed that his only connection to the region was not just a bad one, but one that had left an indelible stain on his reputation, on his very name. Tichy had emphasized his name more than once. Marek had disregarded it before, but he remembered that Tichy had said his name with scorn, almost disgust. It hadn't made sense at the time; Marek had thought the man was just mocking him. "You're still a Hurta," the man had said, just like that. But what had he meant? Did he somehow know about Marek's grandfather? Was that the reason all this had happened? Was that the reason Tichy hated him so? It seemed plausible, and as Marek thought about it more and more, even probable. It certainly explained a lot of things that hadn't made sense before.

Despite his isolation, the rest of Friday and Saturday morning went reasonably well for Marek, all things considered. He went to meals and ate what he was supposed to. He did his work, and went to classes, too. The other boys not only left him alone, but they seemed to be going out of their way to avoid him. But Marek knew that this was merely the calm before the storm. He knew that once Tichy's "protection" expired after the match, things would be much different with the other boys, and much more dangerous. That knowledge left Marek with a feeling of dread as he contemplated how he could make it through the next three weeks without being bullied and pummeled. The other boys despised and resented him. If it hadn't been true before, it certainly was after Hanák's lecture. He couldn't fight them all. He would have to be careful wherever he went and avoid being cornered.

There were also Tichy's rules to worry about. The most difficult thing for Marek was not eating his meals in full as Tichy had commanded but keeping his hands off his penis. It had been several days since the boy last ejaculated. He erected in mere seconds now at the slightest stimulation or even without any, and when he did, liquid leaked from his cockhead into his underwear. He woke up several times each night with nail-hard boners, and it took all his willpower not to take care of the problem then and there, but he dared not risk it with Radek so close. Marek wondered how he would be able to make it through the next three weeks without masturbating. He didn't think that Mr. Tichy had any way of testing to know for sure whether he jerked off, or not, so he would only need a few moments alone in the bathroom. It would only take 30 seconds, maybe a minute. But the time never seemed right, and the boy knew that Tichy's spies were everywhere, ready to report any suspicious activity. Marek was too intimidated to proceed with his plan. He would try to last three weeks, but it would be very, very difficult. In the meantime, he was on a knife's edge with horniness.

It also weighed on the boy's mind that he had not yet received his train ticket from home, nor had he heard from his mother in response to his letter. Marek knew that it could take a few days each way for the letter to be received and replied to. He was not worried about his mother's reaction to his decision not to return to the internat. As an only child, Marek was used to getting his way on things when he really, really wanted to, and this was one of those occasions. Once he was home, he was confident he could ensure that he would not be made to return to the school, no matter how disappointed his mother and his Aunt Martina might be.

On the social front, it was more of the same. The boy found himself in utter isolation. Before his week spent with Tichy, he had been able to sit with other boys in the canteen. True, he had skipped several meals and opted to sit alone during his punishment week, but now he couldn't even imagine trying to sit at a table with the other first-year boys. He took every meal alone, yet he sensed that the other boys were staring at him, watching to see if he ate, ready and eager to report him to Tichy if he didn't. Now they had another reason to stare at him. He was HURTA: enemy of the people, enemy of the state, collaborator of the Nazis, and exploiter of the working man.

In addition to Marek's isolation from the other boys, he no longer had Tichy or any other adult to talk to. Much as the boy had hated and feared his week of punishments, going to see Tichy every day had given him some degree of human interaction. Now, he had no one to talk to at all. Radek wouldn't even speak to him, and Tichy, of course, wasn't going to volunteer a conversation with him after Marek had stood him up at the gym. No one else did, either. Teachers didn't routinely socialize with the boys outside of classes and so now, with everyone avoiding him and nobody talking to him, Marek was desperately alone.

The boy had even more trouble sleeping the night before the big match with Technoglass. For one thing, he had a boner like none other, and it simply would not go down. His young body was physically excited about the football match, and that physical excitement – that all-body, 12-year-old tingle – had combined with his pent-up horniness to leave his cock literally quivering under his pajamas. He couldn't help but squeeze it a few times, which only served to make his need worse, but he dared not take care of the problem. Radek was just above him, and he knew that the boy would report him to Tichy if he tried to satisfy his need. For almost two hours, he lay awake in bed with a nail-hard erection leaking precum into his underwear. Finally, mercifully, sleep took him, and he didn't awake again until it was time for breakfast.

The boys on the football team slightly eased their ostracization of Marek as they assembled in the locker room in readiness for the big match. Taus even patted Marek's back as they all changed into the school's official kit of green and vanilla-yellow uniforms. The other boy didn't know it, but his simple, kindly gesture nearly brought Marek to tears. It was the first friendly sign he had received from anyone at the school since Radek had offered him the candy bar several days ago. Marek almost wanted to give him a hug, but his inclination in that regard immediately was drowned by feelings of revulsion at the memory of what Mr. Tichy had made him do. Marek was a shit-eater, and he wasn't worthy of having friends, even if they could get past the boy's connection to the Glass King. He simply didn't deserve to have friends, not after what he had done, which was a gross violation of what it meant to be a human boy.

After a warm-up and some stretching, a buzz of excitement ran through the locker room, and then just like that, they were out on the pitch! Marek's fit, lean young body tingled with excitement, and with the kick-off, the boy exploded with energy as he sprinted up and down the field, seemingly everywhere. He played as if it were his last football game ever, and there was part of him that wondered whether it might just be. Certainly it would be his last match here at the internat, and possibly forever.

The Technoglass boys were a little bigger, taller, and older across the board. But it quickly became clear that in football, size wasn't everything. Tichy's exacting drills over the weeks leading up to the match meant that the PISKG boys had much better ball skills and they played better tactically, too. It was only six minutes into the match that Taus smoothly slipped the ball to Marek, who was in a decent position on the right just outside the penalty area. There were players between him and the goal, so a low shot wouldn't do, but he saw that the goalie was off his line and he knew that if he could hit it just right, he might be able to lob the ball into the far corner. Marek pulled back his right leg and struck the ball, firing high across the area, aiming for the corner. It was close – the ball hit the goal post, but on the inside – and ricocheted into the net for a goal!

Marek couldn't help but jump with excitement as the ball angled into the net. The spectators in the stands roared their approval. It had been a good shot, and while higher and further to the left than the boy had intended, it had gone in. Marek's' bright smile was unrestrained, and for a moment, the boy was happy and free from worry for the first time in almost two weeks. Taus gave him a friendly push, and one or two of the other boys congratulated him as all of them celebrated. Even Tichy jumped up to cheer, then nodded and gave Marek a thumbs up.

For the rest of the half, Marek played like a boy possessed. His strong, youthful legs carried him all over the pitch, seemingly with boundless energy. The boy felt free. He was tiring, and would need halftime to rest, but he left nothing on the field as he played to the very best of his ability.

It was a bit of a strange match. The Technoglass boys seemed stronger and faster, and they did more running, but they messed up again and again. They had been chosen by their coach for size and fitness, not for fine football skills, and it showed. They kept losing the ball, and when they had it, they shot haphazardly, wide or into the hands of the PISKG goalie. Their play was rough, and they were penalized a lot, eventually conceding another goal to PISKG from a penalty kick.

Technoglass had managed to score a lucky goal halfway through the half, and then another one shortly before the end of the first half, to make it 2 all. PISKG kicked off after the second goal, but as they moved the ball around, it did not seem if there would be time for any further meaningful action before the halftime whistle went. Suddenly a long pass found Marek in space and he had an opportunity to break. The ball arced toward him in the crisp air. Marek skillfully brought the ball down and controlled it. He spun through 180 degrees and, mustering his last reserves of energy, sprinted past the last defender towards the goal. He was in the clear but at a tough angle. The keeper came out to cut down the angle further. Marek gave the shot everything he had and beat the keeper, but then watched with disappointment as his shot slid just to the wrong side of the post for a goal kick.

Everyone on the PISKG side of the field, consisting of the entire school and a bunch of locals from the hills, held a collective excited breath and released it with a disappointed groan when he missed. Marek stooped to rest, hands atop knees, panting and flushed, as a Technoglass defender ran to retrieve the ball, but it was the last action of the half. The fans clapped vigorously as the whistle went.

Tichy quickly gathered his team together and ushered them up the short steps leading from the pitch to the gymnasium building.

"You'll catch your deaths if you sit around in this weather for fifteen minutes," he said, bringing them into the warm dressing room.

Marek was breathing hard as he made his way toward the locker room. The score was 2-2, but PISKG had had the better of the half, and only a matter of inches on his last shot had saved Technoglass from being down 3-2. Marek walked with the rest of the team into the gym building, his cleats joining theirs as they clicked along to the locker room. He was still panting for air as Tichy began to speak, rallying and encouraging his team of junior boys. For a moment – a brief snapshot in time – everything seemed normal and good, like it could have been if things had gone differently for Marek at the school.

"Excellent play," said Tichy to his charges. "Excellent. Marek, Taus, well done. Marek is taking up some dangerous positions and is shooting really well, so let's get the ball to him as often as we can. That first goal was brilliant," he said, as he ruffled Marek's damp hair. His touch was different – rougher and more manly – than during their punishment encounters.

"Otherwise, we don't need to change a thing," Tichy continued. "You're playing better than they are as a team. You're doing the right things out there, using the skills you've learned. They're bigger, but don't let them get you nervous. They can't keep being as lucky. It's statistics, and I know if you do the same again, you'll win this. Drink. Rest. We'll start with the same lineup in the second half except Filipsky will sub Novotny; he's a bit tougher in defense and you look like you need a break, too," chuckled Tichy as he looked at the disheartened second-year boy. He passed around bottles of sweetened mineral water as an energy drink.

"And Marek? Don't be so worried about helping the defense. Don't keep working back so much. We need your energy and speed up front, so stay there," winked Tichy, patting Marek's shoulder.

The team of mostly 13-year-olds listened closely to their coach, nodding in the appropriate places as he issued his instructions. Even Marek nodded as Tichy gave him directions for the second half.

Tichy had them run in place a bit to warm up before sending them back out into the cold. Marek had caught his breath and regained his energy during the halftime break and was ready to go as the second half began. Halftime had been so normal and pleasant that it left the boy wondering how everything had gone so awry for him. It could have been so good, just like this.

Marek took the field with restored energy and excitement. He nudged the kick-off to the side and surged forward, determined to get into a position to get the ball back. He had been looking forward to this game ever since he first learned of it, and even during the darkest days of his punishment sessions with Tichy, he had looked forward to playing striker and showing his teammates and the rest of the school what he could do on the pitch. He knew he was one of the stronger players in the squad even though he was only a first year. He wanted to earn the respect of the other boys, and there had been a time when he had wanted to earn Mr. Tichy's respect, too. He supposed he still did, even though he knew it wouldn't change things for him, now. But maybe, just maybe, a superlative performance in the game would make his last three weeks at PISKG tolerable. Could he dare to hope that it might be even better than that?

The disparity of skills between the two teams was even more apparent in the second half after Buseš made some changes to the Technoglass lineup. Seeking to intimidate the smaller PISKG team, Technoglass went with even more muscle, but this reduced the skill level even further, and the team continued to play poorly. All they managed were three weak shots that had not threatened the PISKG goal, but merely turned the ball over each time. For its part, PISKG had a good number of promising but ultimately unsuccessful scoring chances, and the tide seemed to be turning firmly in favor of the home team.

The boys' animosity towards Marek disappeared as they lost themselves in the excitement of the game. Marek found the ball being passed to him again and again. He had three chances to score within the first ten minutes of the second half. One came from an attack down the right, one after a brief stoppage for an injured Technoglass defender, and another from a corner kick. The crowd yelled and cheered at every scoring opportunity for the PISKG squad. The rivalry really was only between the schools, but people from the hills and the small cottages nearby traditionally cheered for PISKG, and the villagers from Brod itself typically cheered for Technoglass. On this day, the hill people were certainly noisier and more excited than those from the village. It was almost like playing in a league match, with the fans cheering loudly for PISKG and booing the Technoglass fouls.

Like a boy possessed, Marek ranged across the field, his strong, young legs propelling him like a locomotive. A three-player PISKG attack led to a chance for Marek, but the keeper got a hand to the ball and tipped it around the post. Another chance came less than a minute later, as Marek hit another explosive shot, but this time the keeper got his body in the way and managed to grab the ball before anyone could follow up. Marek huffed with disappointment at the missed opportunity.

When PISKG got a corner, Marek waited until Filipski was about to take it and the defenders' attention was on the ball before he moved stealthily into a new position. He knew Filipski was a lefty so pulled back a bit. The ball arced over a Technoglass defender right to Marek. He controlled it, absorbing the ball's kinetic energy with his torso, and as the ball dropped, he struck it with his right foot on the volley and sent the ball powerfully into the corner of the goal. The ball zipped into the net untouched by anyone!

Marek threw his arms in the air, a huge smile on his face as he raced at top speed away from the goal. He stopped and turned, desperately wanting to celebrate with his teammates, only to remember then who and what he was. He was Hurta the outcast. The shit-eating faggot and wimp – the worst wimp in the history of the school. There was nothing to celebrate. Not for him, anyway. He didn't deserve it. His arms dropped and the elated smile left his face, even as a few of his teammates did come up to offer their congratulations to the boy.

Marek also remembered the wager Tichy had offered him. He realized that if he had simply taken it, he would have come out far ahead, and now that he had scored two goals in the match, he wouldn't have had to suck the other boys. Not for the first time he wished he could turn back time.

The goal was celebrated more enthusiastically off the field than on it. The crowd cheered like crazy, and Tichy was delighted. The score was 3-2. Technoglass responded to going behind with still more force and aggression. The factory team got lucky again, with the ball messily ricocheting off a player into the goal from an attempted clearance in the middle of a chaotic scuffle. The ball could have deflected anywhere and was pure bad luck that it ended in the goal. The PISKG goalie had had a chance to dive on it, and if he had, the goal wouldn't have happened. Tichy swore under his breath, but he didn't really blame his keeper. Technoglass was playing a very dirty game, and the kid had been afraid to dive into the scrum of kicking legs to grab the ball. The score was now 3-3.

Marek was tiring quickly as the second half progressed. The game was rougher than he was used to, and he was playing against older and bigger boys. In addition, his play in the first half had attracted more unwelcome attention from the Technoglass defenders and he had clearly been marked out as a threat. Eventually, he went down under a hard tackle that most of the spectators considered illegal, but it wasn't called as a foul. A moment after play resumed, Taus cried out in pain as someone stomped on his calf from behind. He limped off the field, replaced by another boy.

The Technoglass defender earned a yellow card for that foul, and as it was in the penalty area, PISKG were awarded a second penalty. Tichy designated Marek to take the kick. He carefully placed the ball on the penalty spot and lined up for the shot, hoping to avenge Taus. Momentarily, he thought of the chances he had missed, but he tried to put them out of his mind and concentrate on the penalty. The boy knew that the Technoglass keeper was strongest to his left, so Marek approached the ball, trying to convey to him that he was going to that side. As he reached the ball, he angled his foot at the last moment and sent the ball skimming across the ground to the keeper's right while he dived in the opposite direction. He watched as it skittered across the grass and into the net!

Marek jumped up and raised his arms again in elation as his teammates rushed to him. For a brief snapshot in time, as they celebrated the big goal, it didn't matter who and what Marek was. He was just a 12-year-old schoolboy athlete, being a kid and having fun. This time, his smile seemed indelible. The score was 4-3 PISKG.

The crowd was still cheering when play resumed. Marek found himself being shadowed by the same big Technoglass defender who had hurt Taus. The boy was a foot taller than Marek, and he easily outweighed the slender PISKG forward by 40 pounds. But when the boy fouled Marek from behind, it was Tichy, not the referee, who took care of the issue, calling out to the hulking Technoglass defender from the sidelines. Tichy's nearby voice was heard over the surrounding noise even as the referee whistled.

"You touch him again, Rožánek, and I'll pay you a visit tonight," hissed Tichy, causing the Technoglass player to pale. How Tichy even knew the boy was a mystery, but he steered clear of Marek after that, which opened a lot more opportunities for the speedy forward. Now that he wasn't being kicked, pushed, and pulled in all directions, Marek had several more chances as the match moved toward its final minutes.

It was a close game, and Marek was running out of energy. Still, when he thought he could get to the ball, he leapt forward like a gazelle. A nice play by Ales led to a great chance, but Marek mishit his shot, sending the ball wide to the right and out of play. Another good chance from the middle of the field went begging when Marek rocketed the ball over the keeper's hands but also just over the crossbar, the crowd reacting to the powerful attempt with collective oooooohs followed by collective ahhhhhs. Marek sagged dejectedly after the miss. He knew that another goal would have sealed it for his team, and he was now nearly spent as the game approached its conclusion.

As the final whistle drew close the game wasn't as dramatic as it could have been. Technoglass continued to try for the equalizer, but its play was very poor, and the effort didn't even earn a cheer from the Technoglass fans. Both teams were exhausted, having spent nearly an hour in a high-paced, tense, close game. Even as everything was winding down, Technoglass just couldn't hold onto the ball long enough to be a threat, repeatedly turning it over. The PISKG team also was spent, the boys' energy level too low for a proper attack, but then Marek managed to put his left winger through on goal. It was a good pass, and it gave his teammate a great chance, but he missed by a fair margin. As if to rub it in, the grey sky overhead suddenly opened and started to pelt the boys with sleet.

Marek couldn't remember ever being this tired on a pitch. He had given everything to the game that only days before, in a fit of self-pity and despondency, he had considered missing altogether by quitting the team. Yet, despite his fatigue, the blows he had taken, and now the cold sleet, the game was the single most enjoyable thing he had done since his arrival at the school back in September. During the game, the youngster had been mostly free of the worry, dread, and self-loathing that had consumed him over the past two weeks.

It was the last two or three minutes of the game and the Technoglass boys who had been all about force and speed were now sluggish and spent. A Technoglass forward had a half chance to score, but the ball bounced off a defender who quickly closed him down. The ball bounced to Marek who trapped it and initiated one more attack by PISKG.

Tired legs propelled the 12-year-old, but not as fast as before. He knew this was probably the final chance as what had to be the last few seconds of the game ticked away. The Technoglass team was already beaten. He passed to Filipski, who passed to Ales, who passed back to Marek as he sprinted, sluggishly it seemed, into open space. Ales supported him and a quick give-and-go gave Marek one last chance to score and he let loose with a rocket, but once again, the keeper was able to dive full length and prevent the goal, thus keeping the score respectable. Moments later, as the goalie kicked the ball upfield, the referee blew his whistle to end the game.

There was a lot of frenzied cheering from their side of the field and loud applause from both sides. This had been an exciting match to watch by local standards, and well-played, especially by PISKG. The final score of 4-3 was very respectable, too, but everyone watching knew that the score could have been much more lopsided in favor of PISKG. Even the Technoglass fans seemed to recognize that the better team had won.

Marek deflated visibly as the game ended, his fatigue catching up with him in a rush. His legs felt almost wobbly now that they no longer were needed, and he was panting for air, but he still found the energy to celebrate with his teammates, and even shake hands with the Technoglass squad, before he headed back inside the gymnasium building and the warmth of the PISKG locker room.

When they were all in after a few words of congratulations Tichy ushered his boys back out for a quick curtain call, then herded them into the warm locker room once again.

"Well done, well done, excellent play, great football!" Tichy told the boys. "Amazing teamwork," he praised, patting several boys on the head. "That was great. On a luckier day, the score could have been 10-1!" he beamed. "You really showed them how the game's played!" he said, showering the deserving boys with praise.

"All right, everyone, let's move it, hot, long showers, get clean, dry off, warm clothes on."

The boys were buoyed by the excited words of praise from an unusually smiling, happy Tichy. Then, as a team, they started to undress, and suddenly the locker room was full of partially clad and naked young boys. Pale, white skin abounded everywhere, along with the bustle and high-pitched laughter and excited, playful chatter of preteen boys. Young penises and testicles came in various shapes and sizes, mostly barren of pubic hair, but not all. The shower room steamed hot and noisy as they showered, celebrated, and horsed around.

Tichy ignored the hustle and bustle around him as he opened a carboard box he had kept hidden from view. When the boys returned from the showers, they found a cornucopia of treats awaiting them, including chocolates, jelly bonbons, roasted caramelized peanuts, potato chips, corn puffs and two bottles of actual American Coca Cola purchased from the Tuzex [Author's Note: state-run Czech store for foreign goods]. It was a West German brand, but it was the real deal, nonetheless. Tichy wouldn't boast about it, as it was politically sensitive to buy anything from the West and call it good, but he knew the boys would love it, so he made an exception to his usual rules. With a few final words of congratulations and telling them to enjoy the spoils of victory, he left them to go and prepare the seniors for the main match of the day.

Some of the boys were so excited to see the treats that they didn't even bother to dress from the showers before they dug in, standing there naked as they shoveled treats into their mouths. Others, like Marek, quickly donned their underpants before joining in the celebration. The boys were ebullient from their big win, and so far, their happy chatter and enthusiasm without question included Marek. He partook in some of the snacks and sweets, and even tipped a bottle of the Coke back and took a nice, big swig.

The 12-year-old couldn't help but revel a bit in the great victory. He had played only decently in his estimation since he had failed to convert so many of his scoring chances, but he knew that with a little more luck, he could have scored four or even five goals in the match – all without being a ball-hog. He hadn't put in an outstanding performance, but it had been a good one. More importantly, his team had won, and PISKG might not have fared as well without Marek.

Unlike the other youngsters, however, the Hurta boy soon felt the elation and celebration of the moment start to become overshadowed first by worry, then by dread of what the evening and the morrow would bring. Despite Marek's trepidation, the boys from his team seemed to be genuinely overcome with enthusiasm, and even in Tichy's absence, they showed no inclination to be cruel or nasty to him. He had helped to win the prestigious match and earn this big box of rare and – from the standpoint of Eastern bloc youngsters – luxurious goodies.

When he was finished dressing, Marek went back outside with the team to watch the seniors draw their match against Technoglass in another exiting match. He received a few more pats on the back from the spectators who recognized him and even a few friendly smiles from boys in his class who hadn't played in the match. He joined in the cheering and for the first time, he almost felt like a part of the school. His good luck continued, and for the rest of the day and, all night, there was peace.

Even Radek congratulated him when they were alone in the dorm room that night. Then, blushing, he stammered some words of surprising candor to his roommate.

"Look, you already know that I gave Tichy the notes, but I wanted you to hear it from me, too. It's nothing personal. I don't even give much of a fuck about the whole Hurta thing. You weren't even born then. You were born under socialism, so even with your family history, we're still equal," he said, a little tensely and awkwardly. "If you're mad at me, then … I guess you could punch me or something," he shrugged. "I kinda deserve it. I can't even promise it won't happen again, though. We both know I'm not very brave, and I'm more afraid of Tichy than I am of you."

There it was again – another reference to Marek's unsavory ancestry. How could his mother and relatives have sent him to this region knowing that his grandfather had been such an evil man? Did it ever occur to them that most of the boys and even half the instructors came from the vicinity of Zelezny Brod? That they had grown up in the shadow of the glass factory that had once been owned by Marek's grandfather and that they all hated the man for what he had done? Now they all hated Marek, too, because of his name. The boy again felt like he was trapped behind enemy lines.

Marek realized that his mind had been wandering and he turned his attention back to Radek. The boy who had been cold and distant from the start was now offering him candy bars, offering to do things with him, and even apologizing. Both boys knew what Radek had done, and both boys knew who had made him do it. It made little sense for Marek to beat the kid up for it now if no other reason that Marek knew full well how persuasive Tichy could be when he wanted something. Radek would not have been able to say no to him. Even if Marek did beat Radek up, the boy undoubtedly would continue to rat him out to Tichy if he broke any rules. Marek would just have to be more careful around his roommate for the next three weeks before he left for home.

"It's okay, I don't blame you," Marek lied to the red-headed boy. "I know he made you. He wasn't even mad about the notes. I had already decided I was going to play in the game, so …" he said as his voice trailed off. He added a shrug like it wasn't a big deal at all.

There was just no sense getting into a spat with Radek. Marek had only three weeks to go before the break and then he would be gone from the internat for good. Maybe his effort on the pitch would mean something. Maybe it would be enough to save his skin. It had seemed to mean something so far. The boys in his class were much friendlier – or maybe just not as hostile. Taus had seemed a bit distracted and off after the game, but perhaps he was unhappy with his play. He hadn't been able to return after the foul that resulted in the yellow card and the penalty kick. But by being on the receiving end of that foul, Taus had helped his team to score the winning goal.

Marek awoke the next morning with a piss-hard boner and a deep sexual need, but when he arrived in the bathroom, he was able to take care of only the former problem. Earlier in the term, he would have emptied first his bladder and then his balls in private in one of the bathroom stalls, but now he was too paranoid of Tichy to perform the much more pleasurable of those tasks. He didn't think he could make it three more weeks without cumming, but he still wasn't sure where, when, or how he could jerk off without being seen. Tichy seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.

After performing his morning ablutions, Marek made his way to the canteen for breakfast. Despite his success on the pitch, he still ate alone, as small groups of boys drifted in and out on this lazy, Sunday morning. Marek finished the entire meal, and for once he had to make no real effort to do so. He almost felt like walking around the canteen with his tray so Tichy's spies could see how empty it was.

It wasn't until late morning as Marek walked unsuspectingly toward the canteen before lunch that his luck – or the seemingly magical protection of Tichy – suddenly ran out. It happened as he was walking near the toilets on his way back to the dorm. Seemingly out of nowhere, and before he had any opportunity to react, a blanket was thrown over his head and strong arms grabbed him from behind, almost lifting him off the ground as he was forced from the hallway into the bathroom. Marek didn't make a sound even as his heart raced with adrenaline-induced terror. He struggled a bit, but he already knew that resistance was futile. Marek could tell from their voices and the hands and arms that gripped his body that these were older boys. They were stronger, too.

Marek had of course heard about the deka [Author's Note: blanket] punishment that was sometimes used during vojna [Author's Note: compulsory Czech military service] on those recruits who tried to stand up to bullies, or tattled, or otherwise got themselves into trouble during boot camp. The punishment was simple, but brutally effective. A blanket was thrown over the victim to restrain him and obscure his vision. He was then pushed down to the ground and beaten to a pulp, usually to the point of needing medical attention afterwards. It was the kind of beating after which you had to count your teeth and wait a few days to stop pissing blood.

Because Marek had been worried about just this sort of thing happening to him, he was immediately frightened when the blanket was thrown over his head. He couldn't see anything, and his arms were pinned helplessly to his body as he was forced into the bathroom. What Marek had been dreading for days now was happening. Down to the floor he went with a grunt with the weight of a larger boy atop him.

"Get off me," he said, but his voice sounded scared and whiny even to him. He dared not call out for help. Who would come to his aid, anyway?

"Now we have you, Nazi scum," said one of the older-sounding voices from above him. "If you scream, we'll hurt you, so you'd better listen."

The voice did not come from the same kid who was pinning him down, and there was yet another voice urging someone else to "shut the damn door." Marek heard it slam shut as he struggled against the unknown boy who was still holding him pinned and wrapped in the blanket on the floor. All those voices meant that there were at least four attackers, all of them older and likely bigger than he was.

"Coming back to Brod," said the boy to his left. "You have some nerve, Hurta."

"Some nerve, you fucker," agreed the croaky-voice teen. "We were going to beat you until you stopped screaming and crying, then break your bones and leave you outside in the frost for dead, but given your football skills, you're clearly some use to the school alive. Winning that match probably saved your life, Hurta, but that's all you get. Go on, guys!"

Marek listened as the older boys explained their plan and their purpose. "Stop – let me go!" he begged them, as he struggled against the impossible odds. But strong pairs of hands found his arms through the blanket – which was, almost absurdly, fluffy and soft, infused with the smell of a nice fabric-softener – and pinned him face down, his arms stretched to either side. The blanket now covered little more than his head. Another pair of hands reached underneath him and tugged at his fly. Marek next felt his trousers and underpants being pulled down, then the coldness of the tile floor against his groin.

"Let me go!" he said again, the panic and fear in his voice almost palpable.

"We will, when we're done with you, Hurta," snorted the boy with the croaky voice. Marek's shoes, trousers, and underpants were pulled all the way off. "Oh, would you look at that!" laughed the croaky voice. "Fucker got the cane, huh? I guess that means you like cock, little faggot, don't'ch'ya? Maybe we should give you some of that. Maybe we will – another day. Today, we'll show you what we do to sons of traitors who return to our town!"

Marek's heart was racing in fear as the older boys stripped him. Everything was made worse by the fact that he couldn't see. The boy was terrified. The other boys were so strong, and their voices so much deeper and older-sounding, and there were so many of them. Marek couldn't move, much less escape, and he feared that he was in for the beating of his life. As it turned out, he was right.

The older boys began to pummel him. Whatever hands weren't being used to hold him down rained punch after punch after punch on his legs and back, his kidneys, his hamstrings, and his ribs. It was a true beating, not play-pretend. Fists pounded him systematically on the backs of his legs, his ass, and his lower back. Someone repeatedly rammed a fist into the side of his ribcage from the right. Marek squealed, groaned, and grunted in pain as the blows rained down.

"Uhhh, uhhhh, ahhhh," Marek gasped as the blows hit home. "Uhhh, st-stop-uhhhhh, uhhhhh," he gasped as more punches continued to fall. The boys were not stopping. They were hitting him in the same places, over and over, and sometimes in new places that had not yet been hit. "Uhhh, uhhh! Uhhhoh." Marek tried to struggle, but it was futile. "Ugghh," he gasped as he took a hit to the kidney, then another. The punches continued, over and over, seemingly without end as Marek gasped, groaned, and grunted with the severity of the beating.

"Flip him," came the command. Marek was in no condition to resist the older boys as they flipped him onto his back, holding the blanket tight so it didn't come off, and started in on his front. One of the boys pulled his arms above his head and knelt on his wrists painfully while punching his chest and ribs. Another boy was hitting his upper arms and shoulders. Yet another boy punched his legs and then his kneecaps, all while the biggest strongest boy pummeled his belly with a relentless series of sharp, boxer-style jabs, left, right, left right, on and on. The only part of Marek that wasn't punched was his head, as his attackers apparently wanted to leave his face unharmed.

The repeated, sharp blows to his stomach drove the air from the boy's lungs, leaving most of the remainder of the beating to take place without many audible sounds of protest from Marek. The older boys also didn't speak as they did their worst. The only sounds were those of fists hitting flesh and boys grunting with effort as they found new places to hit as hard as they could. Marek almost passed out from the pain.

The older boys didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry, taking a solid few minutes to pummel Marek before the younger boy finally was dragged deeper into the long room, flipped over once again, and forcibly lifted to his knees. A hand slipped under the blanket to grab the back of his neck, and before he knew what was happening, the blanket was yanked away and his face was shoved hard into the ceramic bowl of a toilet that stank of piss and bleach. Someone flushed it, and strong, swirling water overtook him, sounding like a jet engine and helping to create the sensation of drowning as water swirled about his head. As his head was held under the water in the bowl, Marek thought that death might take him. Just when it seemed like it would, his ordeal suddenly was over.

Taking the blanket with them, the older boys departed as quickly as they had come. The last hand let go of Marek's neck as the last boy bolted away. Marek immediately fell prostrate to the floor by the toilet. The boy was in a bad way. Naked from waist down and dripping wet, he gasped for air and coughed up toilet water as he tried to process the relentless pain from the pummeling he had just endured. His entire body hurt – front, back, and sides, butt, legs, and arms. Even his knees had not been spared. Throughout his ordeal, the boy had not seen even one of his assailants, not that it would have mattered if he had.

Unable to move, Marek lay on the floor for a long time, sobbing in pain. It took him nearly 20 minutes before he even attempted to stand. Grunting and groaning as he did so, he worked his way first to his knees and then to his feet. Like an infirm geriatric patient, he limped his way to his clothes. His trousers and underwear were crumpled in the corner near the door, spat on and kicked around a bit, but wearable. Dressing was laborious and pain-filled but, somehow, he managed to do it, even slipping his feet back into his shoes. His beating had been over for more than 30 minutes before he finally opened the bathroom door and slowly started to make his way back to his dorm.

Marek didn't seem to notice anyone as he walked down the hallway, nor did he know or care if Radek was in the room when he returned. He simply opened the door and shuffled to his bed, lying straight down on it while grunting and gasping in pain. He was shivering from the fear and trauma of his ordeal. He had known all along that the boys would be back at him when Tichy's protection expired, but he had not expected this. This had not been a case of bullying. It hadn't even been a fight. It had been a brutal, merciless beating, plain and simple. Marek couldn't stop grunting from the pain. Grunts and little gasps and moans punctuated his every breath. He had no idea that his condition had Radek in a panic; right now, Radek didn't even exist in Marek's mind.

It didn't feel any better, but possibly even more achy and worse as the next few hours passed. Marek dozed off for a few minutes at one point, giving him merciful relief from his pain, if only for a short time. He sensed Radek's presence as the boy climbed down and headed out of the room without speaking, almost certainly to the canteen for Sunday dinner. Marek couldn't possibly get up to go to dinner. The thought never even occurred to him to try. If Tichy wanted to beat him some more for not eating his meal, then so be it. The boy couldn't have eaten even if he had managed to struggle to the canteen. And what if the older boys jumped him again on the way?

And thus, Marek found out what life was going to be like at PISKG now that he wasn't in any way or form sheltered by Tichy. He didn't know, but probably would guess soon enough, that any boys seen fraternizing with him would be punished themselves, perhaps in a similar fashion. The two-meter empty circle around him re-emerged and no one, not even a pale, scared-shitless Radek up on his bunk, said as much as a word to him. In fact, Radek had been hiding under his blanket when he heard Marek coming and hadn't said so much as a single word to him all day.

Marek spent almost six hours in bed, then finally arose to use the bathroom. When he returned to the room, he forced himself to sit at his desk and work on his studies, mostly just for a change of position and for something to do. Even sitting was painful. His entire body ached and felt like one big bruise. As if the weather were trying to mirror Marek's dark mood, it started to snow heavily, with more than a foot falling that evening and two more feet blanketing the area by the following morning. Eventually, Marek retired to bed once again, but the unrelenting pain kept him awake most of the night.

Exhausted, sore, and hurting, Marek rose with the rest of his dorm Monday morning and prepared for the start of the day and week. He was full of dread as he slowly made his way to the canteen for breakfast, but he knew that Tichy would be watching to see that he ate. He also knew that it wasn't a matter of whether he would be jumped again, but when. It could be the same boys who had done it to him the first time, or different ones. It could be his first-year classmates, or older boys. His classmates had all heard Hanák's lecture first-hand, and the older boys most likely already knew the story of his Nazi past. Everyone at the school hated him, and nobody was protecting him. Worst of all, Marek knew from the severity of his beating that he was in no condition to fight, even if his assailants gave him a sporting chance.

He did manage to walk to the canteen – slowly, and limping – where he ate half his food. The pain he felt all over his body made him sick to his stomach, and despite his hunger, he knew that if he tried to eat any more than that, he likely would vomit. He dumped the other half of his food in the garbage without even trying to disguise that he hadn't eaten it all. Whatever happened to him now with Tichy would happen. The man could beat him or have him beaten whenever he wanted, so it hardly seemed to matter whether or not Marek followed his rules about eating.

As he slowly limped back to the dorm to get his books, Marek contemplated his situation. He had exactly three weeks to go before the break – three more weeks of hell in this godforsaken school, hundreds of kilometers from home. Three weeks until he would be safely back in Vacenovice. But how could he possibly survive until then without Mr. Tichy's protection? It was a question that Marek simply could not answer, and his inability to do so filled him with dread.

Chapter Eleven

In the days that followed, it seemed to Marek that the entire school had split into two groups. The first group consisted of name-callers who would insult him, push him, try to provoke him into a fight, or sneakily bully him. The day after the blanket episode he found several crayon-drawn pictures of an orange blanket crumpled up in his shoes, the sleeves of his coat, his bed, and other places. On Monday, a pair of third-years cornered him in the stairwell and savagely beat him down to the landing, then ran away. Later that same day, a group of boys suddenly converged on him in the hallway, seemingly out of nowhere, knocking his books from his arms and pummeling him against the wall.

A second, smaller group of boys just avoided him, full of fears of their own. Even Bilov, who used to be among the boys to taunt him most, now was more like a ghost. So was Radek, and a few kids from his year who gladly would have cut him some slack or turned a blind eye to who he was. But they were all of twelve years old, and the kids who were after Marek's blood – literally, it turned out, as he did end up pissing pink-tainted urine on Sunday night – were many in numbers, all of them older and most of them stronger than Marek.

There were just the two additional beatings on Monday, but there were plenty more whispers and looks. Marek had been tripped by unseen feet more times than he could count, including while he was in the canteen carrying his lunch on a tray. The trip sent him and the tray flying, and Marek ended up being yelled at by Mr. Drábek for being such a klutz. He spent Monday evening alternating between his desk and his bed. He needed to attend to his schoolwork, but at times, the pain of sitting was too great, and he was forced to lie down. Shortly after lights out, he managed to fall asleep.

It was not a restful sleep. He dreamed of Tichy once again. They were together, alone, in the gymnasium, in the boiler room. The chair was there, too, only it was bigger, like a throne. The boiler was loud, and glowing. Smoke was billowing from it. Tichy was there, naked from the waist down and erect, holding the cane in one hand and a rope in the other. He was smiling broadly at Marek, beckoning him forward, into the room.

Marek didn't want to go in there, no he didn't, but he felt himself grabbed from behind, pushed, punched, manhandled, and shoved into the room by a large group of hostile boys. The room suddenly expanded, growing larger to accommodate all of them, stretching to some four times its actual dimensions. Marek was forced to his knees while Tichy and the boys laughed, as did Mr. Hanák, who suddenly was there, too.

Rough hands drew him to the chair, but it had turned into a toilet, and in the bowl, coils of shit nestled like snakes in the brown water. Marek felt a hand on his neck, pushing his face down. "Eat," said Tichy as the boys laughed and cackled, and the boiler gasped and belched behind him. His arms were held now, his face forced low, toward the chair/throne/toilet. "Lowest form of wimp," intoned Tichy. "Lowest form of wimp," he repeated, as the other boys joined in. "Lowest form of wimp, lowest form of wimp, lowest form of wimp, lowest form of wimp, lowest form of wimp …"

Marek awoke with a cry loud enough to cause Radek to sit up so fast that he nearly fell from his bed. Beneath him, in the lower bunk, he heard the Hurta boy sobbing, crying, seemingly talking to himself. He couldn't pick up the words, yet he listened intently because he knew Mr. Tichy would want to hear them. Radek eventually caught a few words in between the boy's sobs. "Can't … no … I can't … hate it … I can't …hate it here… no … please …." And then, Marek's sobs went quiet, as he somehow managed to fall back asleep.

Tuesday was awful. Marek was two days removed from the blanket beating and his entire body felt like one big bruise. When he showered in the evening, what he saw then and afterwards in the bathroom mirror revealed that his assessment was not far off. Most of his entire body was covered in bruising – well over fifty percent. He looked like he had been hit by a truck. He knew he couldn't take another beating like that. But he also couldn't fight off the other boys. Not all of them. Not for three weeks. Not even for three days.

But what could he do? It was only a matter of time before he was beaten again. He had been cornered and beaten twice more on Monday, and the taunts and trips were unrelenting. The hostility from the other boys was palpable. Marek was given no respite. Everywhere he went he heard the comments and taunts, and that was if he were lucky. If he were unlucky or let his guard down even for a second, a trip sent him flying or a body check sent him slamming into a wall. He was afraid as he moved around the school. He looked over his shoulder as he walked. The only place he felt even marginally safe was in his dorm room, but even there, it wouldn't take much for a group of boys to force their way in – or be let in by Radek – to do him harm.

Shortly after lunch on Tuesday, a group of older boys pulled him from the hallway and shoved him into an empty classroom. Marek's heart raced with terror as they closed the door, leaving the light off, all of them approaching and cornering him as he retreated toward the window. A moment later, they had grabbed him and were in the process of beating him all over again when the physics teacher, Mr. Zmolek, returned unexpectedly. The boys immediately stopped their assault and muttered something about a "secret meeting" as they fled the classroom, leaving Marek hurt and disoriented on the classroom floor. Mr. Zmolek pretended not to notice anything as Marek eventually staggered to his feet and lurched away.

It was no way to live. Marek was in constant fear, but try as he might, he couldn't come up with a good solution. He almost cried in his despair. He couldn't go to Mr. Tichy for help. The price of the man's assistance had been too high before and undoubtedly would be even higher now. Marek simply couldn't pay it, not after what the man had done to him and made him do. Crawling back to Mr. Tichy now would simply confirm that he was the lowliest wimp in the history of the school. But he also couldn't go to Mr. Skala, and none of the teachers would help. He had no friends among the boys. He couldn't enlist any help from people outside the school, such as the police or his family.

He considered running away and trying to make his way home, but with hundreds of kilometers to travel, no money, and the freezing winter weather, he knew he would not get far and would either just be brought back to the school or freeze to death outside. Despite his ongoing misery and occasional thoughts of ending his suffering, this was not something he wanted. He was young, he had nearly his whole life in front of him, and he wanted to survive. He was too frightened to do anything so drastic, not with the break rapidly approaching. Somehow, he had to find a way to get through the next three weeks.

The problem was a vexing one, and it ate away at the boy. Slowly, however, and with tremendous dread, Marek came to the realization that there was only one option that offered him any real answer. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that there was only one thing he could do that would ensure his survival over the next three weeks before he finally would be able to escape this place of torment and return to his home in Vacenovice. He simply had no other choice if he wanted to leave the internat in one piece. He would have to swallow his pride and do what he absolutely did not want to do.

Although he dreaded it terribly, at 4 o'clock that Tuesday afternoon, the defeated, beaten boy slowly climbed the steps to Tichy's office, walked to the door, and knocked softly twice.

Tichy was seated behind his desk, just as he had been the day before at 4 o'clock, just as he was prepared to be the next day, and the day after that if it became necessary, waiting for the Hurta boy to come to him. And Marek would come; the man knew that almost with complete certainty. Tichy had planned it that way. Even while he had extended the boy his protection, he had been winding up certain other boys against him. He had manipulated and aggravated their original antipathy for the boy – made even stronger by the news of Marek's relationship to the hated Glass King – while telling them that he was untouchable. Tichy had emphasized the expiration date on that protection and made it clear that no one would be punished for anything they did to the Hurta kid after that as long as he didn't literally end up in the hospital.

Tichy had used the same technique on other boys he had targeted over the years, and he knew with certainty that it would prove successful with Marek. Boys were very predictable as well as manipulable, especially when you knew them as well as Tichy did. What had happened to Marek over the last three days was as certain as the sun rising in the morning. The boy had no way of knowing the full extent of Tichy's involvement, of course, but he wasn't stupid. The man knew that it would be only a matter of time before he put two and two together and came for a visit. If Marek wanted to survive at the school in one piece, he would come.

When there was a knock on his door at Marek's regular time, Tichy's cock twitched and he could barely suppress a gloating cheer. Of course, the man couldn't be 100% sure who it was, but he had a high degree of confidence that it was Marek Hurta. Tichy was known at the school not to take kindly to unscheduled visits from boys. The knock came at the time when boys came to him only because they had been summoned. Boys he had scheduled. Usually, when someone came to see him at that time or after, it was for more … personal reasons. On this day, as with the day before, Tichy had not scheduled anyone to visit him. He had freed up his later afternoons for the Hurta boy and there was only one person he expected to see.

"Do come in," he said, in an amiable tone.

Marek knew full well that he held a losing hand, and it was the only reason he had come to Tichy. There was no other way he could survive for three more weeks at the internat. He would be beaten to a pulp well before he got to the break. He already had been. He couldn't walk anywhere without being shoved, tripped, or pummeled. Tichy had made it clear what the price of his protection was. Marek didn't want to pay that price, but given what he had already done and endured, it simply made more sense to the boy to bend to Tichy's will for the remainder of his time at the school. If Tichy would give him the same deal he had offered before, Marek thought this time he would be able to escape most of the beatings and at least some, or even most, of the humiliating punishments Tichy was fond of doling out. He thought his previous experience might help him not to anger Tichy. Even if he couldn't, it was better than being savaged by the other boys several times a day for the next three weeks.

When he heard Tichy's voice, Marek's blood ran cold, and his skin tingled with fear. Nevertheless, he opened the door and stepped into the man's office. He was so used to locking it that he turned completely around before he realized that on this occasion, he didn't need to do that. He turned back to face his nemesis.

"Can I please talk to you, Mr. Tichy?" he asked the man in what he hoped sounded like a steady, clear, and confident voice, but was, in reality, anything but.

"If you're coming as a student and it's strictly about football or p.e. class, come in and speak," replied Tichy, not even missing a beat. "If it's about anything else and you're coming as a wimp, then lock the door, strip, and crawl over here like the wimp you are. Then you can speak from down on your knees, in the wimp position."

When he was finished speaking, Tichy tilted his head and looked at Marek. He wondered if the boy would change his mind now that he had been confronted so directly, but Tichy wasn't going to go easy on him. He had already warned Marek that there would be a wimp's price to pay if he came back for protection, and he still was cross with the boy for not volunteering a blowjob in the gymnasium in exchange for learning the source of Tichy's disapproval. As a result, the boy still didn't have the full-and-personal story, but he probably could guess about some of it well enough now that Hanák had played his role.

Tichy reached over for a bottle of vodka and pulled out a Startka. This should be good, after all, and he had plenty of time. Plenty of time.

Marek hadn't expected Tichy's reaction, but he knew he should have. Everything here happened according to Tichy's rules, and what the man demanded of him now was one of those rules. Marek had just wanted to have a conversation to discuss the terms of his protection for the last three weeks of school – and it would be only three weeks. Despite what Tichy seemed to think or at least had implied, Marek was not coming back after the break. He would get his way with his mother, and if she for any reason argued with him, he would simply refuse to return. He would never get back on the train. He would run away from home if he had to, but he would never, ever return to Zelezny Brod or PISKG. Of that, he was certain.

But he still had nearly three weeks of hell ahead of him, and his inability to survive that stretch on his own had brought him to Tichy. Everything in him wanted to turn and leave the man's office, but he knew that Tichy held all the cards. Marek certainly understood that Tichy was behind his beatings. The man had either directed them, encouraged them, or at the very least, had done nothing to stop them. Nothing like that could have happened at the school without Tichy knowing about it, and the fact that it had happened so soon after Marek's "protection" had expired could not have been a coincidence. The boy knew that it would have been a very simple matter for the man to cause or prevent the beatings either way. What Tichy wanted, he got. And right now, he seemed to want to see Marek beaten to a pulp.

Knowing that he had no options, and after only a brief hesitation, Marek did as the man directed. As he had done every day throughout his punishment week, the 12-year-old turned and locked the door, then slowly began to remove his clothes and place them on the floor.

Tichy watched as Marek began to denude himself in front of him. The boy undressed much more carefully than usual, which gave Tichy a slow reveal of the injuries all over his body. In many places, the boy's bruises seemed to be a continuous mass of mottled flesh. Ty píčo! [Author's note: "You cunt!" used as an exclamation of surprise] he thought, his eyes briefly widening in actual surprise at the sight of the boy's abused body. Ruda Opatrný had reported the deka incident to Tichy in some detail, promising the man that they had done a very thorough job pummeling the kid, but Marek's slender, young body really was a brute's work of art. Tichy couldn't have beaten him any better himself, not without cracking a rib or some other bone, and likely not without sending him straight to the hospital.

Once he had completed undressing, Marek lowered himself to his hands and knees, positioned his face close to the carpet, and crawled along the familiar route to the side of the man's desk.

Tichy kept his expression neutral as the thoroughly beaten child crawled across the floor, but he was impressed. He owed Opatrný a pack of smokes for his fine work. He watched carefully as the naked boy crawled ever closer to him, savoring the delicious moment. It felt like the Hurta boy was delivering his tight little ass to him on a silver platter. Tichy's cock hardened in his pants. Judging from how quickly he had obeyed Tichy's instructions, Marek had been properly beaten alright, both physically and psychologically. The man couldn't wait to take a closer look at the boy's injuries, to touch his sore-and-mottled skin and feel the hotness of his bruises.

"May I please speak to you, sir?" Marek asked as he arrived at the man's feet. His voice was steady, even if his face still was pointed down toward the carpet.

Tichy did not answer the prostrate boy right away. He wanted to savor the moment. If only Marek knew the full truth! Tichy knew that no matter how much pain, humiliation, suffering, and distress he put the boy through, his revenge never would be complete until one day, Marek knew the whole story about how and exactly why he had ended up here, at a remote internat, hundreds of kilometers from his home. As it stood right now, Marek had no idea who had arranged for the stipend that had given him his place in the class. Nor did he know who had enjoyed a nice, long phone call with his mother to persuade her that sending her son here would be a good idea. Tichy remembered telling the woman that attending PISKG would give Marek the best chance to find his place in the socialist society, and that the boy's family connection to the region would allow him to fit right in with the other students! Nor did Marek know precisely who had arranged for everyone in the school to be reminded about the Glass King, and who had made sure they all knew that Marek's surname was not just an unfortunate coincidence.

The man didn't go straight into an I-told-you-so mode, but certainly in the future he was going to remind Marek that his current physical state had been entirely preventable. Only a truly naïve boy would have rejected Tichy's protection and thrown himself on the mercy of boys who had been whipped into a frenzy against him and now hated his guts. That same boy was at that very moment prostrating his beaten, naked body at Tichy's feet, groveling for mercy and protection.

Oh, this was sweet, thought Tichy. He was going to savor it. He had spent a lot of time thinking about the nature and phrasing of the outrageous offer he was going to present to Marek, and although outwardly he appeared calm and almost disinterested, he was itching to play his cards, if only just to see the boy's expression when he did so. He knew he had to pitch his cost of protection at a lower, or seemingly lower price than the intensity of Marek's daily beatings, but he also was going to remind Marek in no uncertain terms that beggars couldn't be choosers, and that since he was a proven, certified wimp, the lowest of the low, he didn't have much bargaining power. Yes, young Hurta was going to have to agree to pay Tichy's high price, even if he very much didn't want to.

Tichy savored the boy's complete supplication for several deep breaths, then finally spoke.

"Yes, wimp. You may kneel, and you may look up when you speak to me."

Marek's eyes were closed as he bowed himself before Tichy, his nose perched an inch from the floor as he waited for the man to reply. His wait seemed endless, but finally the boy was granted permission to speak. He lifted his head and pushed up from the carpet with his hands, then placed them on his knees. His eyes had opened by the time he looked up at Tichy.

"I know why you hate me, now," he began in a sad-and-dejected voice that he wished he could stop from quavering, "and I'm sorry about what- what happened. My mother never told me about the things Mr. Hanák said and my father died when I was little so I didn't know about any of that and I should never have come here and I wasn't trying to show anybody up by coming and I hope you believe me because I'm not like that and I really didn't know anything about how b-bad he was or I wouldn't have come," the boy said in a slightly confused rush.

"I shouldn't have come and I'm sorry that I did and I'm really sorry for what he did to all those people and how mad everybody is at me," Marek continued as his eyes glazed with tears. "I tried as hard as I could in the match with Technoglass 'cause- 'cause I really wanted to win and help the team and you said it was really important for you and for the school and I wanted to beat them really bad because of what my gran- what- … what he did."

Marek knew he was getting upset and he forced himself to slow down. The boy was rushing through all that he intended to say to make sure he got it out before the man interrupted him, but he was afraid he wasn't making any sense to Tichy. He needed the man to understand that he really was contrite, and he really hadn't meant anything disrespectful by coming to the school. He needed Tichy to accept his apology, forgive him if he could, and offer to protect him once again.

Marek wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand before continuing with his prepared remarks.

"I know everybody's mad at me, especially you and Mr. Hanák, and I just want you to know that I really am sorry," the boy continued. "I'm very sorry. And I know you're watching me, and I've been f-following all your rules. I've been eating my … most of my meals, almost all of them, and I haven't wanked even once since you said I couldn't, and I've been trying in class and I haven't gone to the nurse or Mr. S-Skala for anything."

Marek paused for a moment and swallowed nervously. Tichy hadn't said a word, and that wasn't helping. The boy could feel himself getting more and more worried and out of sorts as he spoke. He forced himself to slow down once again.

"I know the other boys … they'll do what you say," the boy said. "If you want them to b-beat me up for you, I- I know they will. This is what they did to me," Marek added as he lifted up his arms to display his bruised chest and rib cage. The undersides of his arms were bruised almost black along the triceps where the older boys had pummeled him systematically and mercilessly. "They're all bigger than me," he added, as if Tichy didn't already know that.

"I know your protection expired and I'm asking if you'll please put it back for me," Marek continued in a tight, near-crying voice. "There's less than three weeks to go before the break, and I really want to be your ally, not your enemy."

Marek realized that he had been babbling and he hoped that what he had just said had made sense to the man. The bottom line was, he needed Tichy's protection to survive his last days at the school. The other boys weren't just taunting and bullying him anymore, they were beating the shit out of him, and some had expressed thoughts of killing him, which the beleaguered boy believed to be real. Marek knew that the only person in the entire school who could protect him was Tichy. He also knew that a word or two from Tichy to the other boys was all that stood between him and his next beating, which could come from anywhere, at any time.

Tichy watched the boy carefully as he spoke and did not interrupt his prepared remarks. Marek had connected the dots damn well. Roping Hanák into the dramatic reveal had been another great move. Clearly Marek understood now, and rather than being furious at the unfairness of it all, he seemed to feel some guilt by association. Good. His grandfather's sins had to be atoned for and now they would be, in an appropriate fashion, starting with Marek supplicating himself on his knees.

"Hmmm," pondered Tichy. "That sounded quite genuine. And, for what it's worth, I believe you that you didn't know just how bad a man your grandfather was, and what bitterness his name would stir up locally. So, let's put history to rest, for now, anyway. Today's not the day for any deeper discussions," he said followed by a pause. "Your present situation seems," said Tichy as he scanned the bruises all over the naked child's body, "more pressing."

The man's initial response sounded promising, and Marek felt somewhat relieved. He swallowed nervously. He had prayed that this meeting would go well, because he knew that Tichy held all the cards, especially after Hanák's lecture had put a big target on Marek's back.

Tichy paused, then lit the Startka as he regarded the beaten kid with contemplative eyes. With the cigarette in the corner of his lips, a thin stream of bluish smoke rising from it, Tichy reached down, unbuckled, and unzipped his trousers and with some fumbling, fished out his fully erect cock.

"All right, wimp. Suck. Nice and deep and steady, and listen, very carefully, to your starting conditions," he demanded coolly.

The boy swallowed again as Tichy unveiled his penis, but for the boy, it was a hopeful sign. Marek had already reconciled himself to the price he would need to pay for Tichy's protection, and he had already decided to pay it or he wouldn't have even bothered to come. He knew he could survive the three weeks doing that for Tichy and once he went back home to Vacenovice, nobody there would ever know what he had been forced to do. Without delay or hesitation, the boy knee-walked on very bruised and sore knees between Tichy's legs and directed the man's stiff member into his mouth.

"Just now, as your lips touched my cock, you lost any third, or other options," said Tichy calmly. "We're allies now, for as long as you abide by my rules and play my game. The moment you try to pull back, we're enemies. For the rest of your days, Marek, we'll be one or the other: allies or enemies. There isn't, and will not be, another option," emphasized Tichy, as he let Marek suck for a while to allow all that to sink in.

Marek already knew there were only two options. If there had been a third, he undoubtedly would have selected it, but he simply couldn't think of one. It kept coming back to a binary equation: He could either be Tichy's ally for the next three weeks, succumbing to the man's will and serving him sexually all the while, or he could be his enemy, and be beaten half to death or worse by the other boys. Marek had chosen door number one because at least it was survivable in his calculation. Door number two was simply too horrible to contemplate, especially with the reminders that decorated his body with mottled black-and-blue blotches that were still painful all the time, and downright agonizing whenever they were touched.

"You'll live by my rules and you will come to pay your daily tribute to me, to thank me for protecting you," continued Tichy. "It will be for up to an hour, but usually less, and during that time you'll be naked. Your body, and especially your mouth and ass, are mine. You'll come every day, and you'll keep me cumming to the very best of your ability. There will be no caning or slippering unless you earn it, but we both know all too well that you're a wimp and you'll be treated like one during that time," he said with another pause to let that little nugget sink in. If the kid had a thought that submitting to Tichy's discipline wouldn't be part of the cost of the man's protection, he had another think coming.

It had been a week since Marek had last sucked Tichy's cock, but he hadn't forgotten anything in that time – how could he have? – and he used his tongue and lips to wet the man's cockhead before he began to bob on it, taking first one, then two, then three inches of it into his mouth as it quickly lubricated with saliva. He removed his hand from the man's shaft, using only his mouth the way he knew Tichy liked it. As he sucked, he looked up at the man, his blue eyes focused intently this time as Tichy spelled out the terms.

"Now here's the last part, but it's very important. I told you already you're not the only one. There are several other, very loyal allies I have at this school. Last week, secrecy was a part of our deal so I cleared my schedule for you, but I cannot and will not do that indefinitely. If I need or want another one of my boys around when you're paying your tribute, I'll have him around. There aren't many in number, and they very much need this whole thing to stay secret and private within the group," he explained, "but the secrecy of our group extends only to the outside of the group, not within it. Simply put, I could be having a conversation with Rychlý right now and your job would be to keep right on doing what you're doing under my desk. Understood?"

Marek concentrated on both sucking and listening. Perhaps Tichy's terms would be more merciful if he pleased the man with his mouth? He set about doing just that, taking a full five inches now as he improved his head angle and slid the man's cockhead into his throat, holding it there for several long seconds as he gazed up at his … ally and listened to information he didn't know about Tichy's other boys. So Richlý was one of them. Marek had never even suspected that about the boy from Prague.

The thought of other boys being present when he serviced Tichy made Marek nervous, but two additional thoughts followed quickly on the heels of the first. The first thought was the one that had brought him here in the first place: This would all be very temporary. It would be over in weeks, and Marek would go home, never to see Tichy or any of the other boys again. Secondly, being part of Tichy's entourage was ever-so-slightly appealing to the boy. Nobody messed with Tichy's boys – everyone at the school knew that. The difficulty, at least for the first-year students, was in knowing exactly who they were. But now Marek would know. He would be the ultimate insider. He would be one of them, and he would have comrades.

"Now, you'll get a newbie protection for a few days in my little army," chuckled Tichy. "I won't give you any hard missions, tasks or challenges and you'll be temporarily exempt from the line of command. But, ultimately, this club works very much like a small army, or a small unit of KGB, if you will. The line of command is clear and for now, you're at the bottom. If someone from inside the group gives you a command, you obey. You can complain to me afterwards, but there and then, you obey. Just like in the army. But not yet. I'll give you time to wrap your head around that, first," announced Tichy.

Marek listened carefully to the man as he continued to suck. Tichy's operation sounded much more complex and involved than Marek had suspected. No wonder the man seemed to know everything and have near-total control over the boys. Marek remembered back to the match a couple of days ago, when Tichy had called out to the Technoglass boy with an unmistakable threat. The boy clearly had taken Tichy's threat to heart, as he had backed off his aggressive play and been a non-factor for the remainder of the game. How did Tichy know that boy? Why had the boy from another school been so intimidated by him? Tichy had mentioned the KGB. It seemed impossible that the man could be involved with that, but was it? Was Tichy even more powerful and more connected than he already seemed?

"I'm going to cum in your mouth today, but don't forget that your ass is mine whenever I want it," smiled Tichy.

That was it; he had nothing else to say, and he wasn't going to last much longer, either. The Hurta boy really was an excellent cocksucker – one of the best Tichy had encountered in over 10 years at the school – and it was nice to have the kid back in the fold right where he should be – on his knees, with his lips wrapped around Tichy's cock, doing what he did best. It had taken only three days of beatings to break the boy's will and bring him crawling back on hands and knees to suck cock. The result was as pleasurable as it had been predictable.

Marek concentrated on the blowjob. For once, his throat didn't feel abraded or inflamed, and he was able to perform well for the man, taking five inches easily and holding the man's cockhead in his throat, before pulling back and swirling with his tongue. There was no sign of the vomit bucket, so the boy didn't dare to try going any deeper than that, but Tichy didn't seem to mind, and in fact was not being very hands-on with this blowjob. This time, for better or for worse, Marek had the man's cock to himself.

It wasn't much longer before the man came, and Marek dutifully swallowed the cum into his taut stomach. When Marek was done with the blowjob, Tichy tucked his cock back in his pants, poured two smallish shots of vodka into glasses, and handed one of them over to Marek.

"Stand up straight now. And welcome to my army. Bottoms up," said Tichy and knocked back his vodka.

Worse than the taste of the man's bitter ejaculate was the clear, fiery vodka that he gave the youngster to drink. Marek coughed and choked on it as he tried to emulate the man and send it down in one pull.

"Uhhhhh," he gasped, as his pallor turned a bit green.

Tichy ignored the boy as he reached into his drawer and fished out an old AK47 cartridge on a stainless-steel chain; it was the sort that normally kept sink plugs attached to sinks. It had "TA-7" engraved on it by someone who knew how to engrave – another favor called in by Tichy.

"Wear that. Outside of class, you can even wear it over your top and flaunt it. No one will dare take it from you. If anyone tries to give you trouble, just show it to them," advised Tichy.

Marek took the chain from the man, studying it with his eyes. He had seen boys with ones like it before, and now he knew what they were. More importantly, now he knew what they meant. It seemed to the boy that the necklace had an almost talismanic quality to it. It represented Tichy's protection and power, which was considerable, and more than that, entry into his club.

"Anything else?" asked Tichy. "If not, I'll see you back here tomorrow at the usual time."

Marek hesitated for a moment, then donned the necklace and looked down at the cartridge as it dangled against his battered chest. His visit to Tichy's office had gone much better than he had imagined even in the most optimistic of scenarios. The blowjob had been a given from the moment that he had embarked down this path, but aside from some stern words, Tichy had been almost kind. He also had been understanding, and now Marek had the protection that he needed to finish out the term in one piece.

"No, sir," he replied.

"All right," said Tichy. "Get dressed. Go. Tonight, at bedtime, keep your shoes handy and wear warm pajamas so you can dash across the building. Someone will come to get you. I have a little something planned."

"Thank you, sir," said Marek, as he turned and started to walk back to his clothes.

"And for fuck's sake, Marek, make sure you eat, and drink plenty of water!" Tichy added, a bit more ominously. Then he chuckled and lit up another Startka.

Marek listened as the man gave him his final instructions. Dash across the building? What did the man mean? Did he mean outside, with all that snow on the ground? It was almost exciting to think about. Like a mission of some sort – his first one.

"Oh, and if you smell poop in your dorm, then it will mean Radek has noticed your cartridge and shat himself," snorted Tichy playfully. "Feel free to mess with him if it cheers you up. He doesn't have one of those and isn't going to get one," he revealed. "Now go."

The boy dressed quickly and left the office, but he knew that Tichy's plans with him for the day were not finished. The brass cartridge shone on his chest like a magic amulet and it didn't take long for the power of the necklace to reveal itself. As soon as he walked down the stairs, a third-year whose name Marek did not know approached him in the hallway with his fist raised, and his jaw tensed. The older boy clearly was looking for trouble and about to hit Marek, but he froze in mid-motion and almost tripped over his own feet as he backtracked.

"Oh, hi," the boy stammered in surprise as he lowered his fist, turned around, and disappeared like smoke, clearly running off to spread the news. And just like that, Marek was one of Tichy's Boys. The youngster couldn't help but smile.

The cartridge continued to work its magic over the course of the evening. The effects were immediate. The attacks, both overt and hidden, instantly stopped. Just like that, like someone had stuck a wrench in the works. No one tripped him. There were no more notes or messages. There were no insults, not even muttered ones. It was like magic; it almost explained how primitive cultures may have come to believe in superstitions and pagan gods. The necklace was such a small and relatively ordinary thing, and yet it made all the difference, just like that, from the first minute he put it on.

Marek couldn't believe how instantly things changed for him. It was beyond his wildest hopes. He knew that Tichy could protect him from the worst beatings. In fact, he wasn't so naïve as to believe that Tichy hadn't been behind the bad ones. But he never believed that Tichy could put an end to the comments, the pushes, the trips, and the unkind words. Marek had assumed that he would have to live with those for the remainder of the term. But now it didn't appear that way. The power of the cartridge around his neck seemed unlimited.

Radek didn't shit himself – he wasn't brave, but he was a little smarter than Tichy gave him credit for. The moment the two of them were alone in the dorm, the boy apologized again to Marek for ratting him out to Tichy, expanding on how he hadn't wanted to, but reiterating that the man had forced him to spy on his roommate. Radek had been acting strangely recently, and now he sounded desperate for Marek's forgiveness and approval. For a time, as things were going from bad to worse for Marek, Radek, of all people, had been the one to offer an occasional kind word. And now this? Marek looked down at the redhead with a quizzical expression.

In many ways, Tichy had predicted the boy's reaction to a tee. Radek seemed spooked by the simple necklace dangling from around Marek's neck and for a moment, Marek reveled in its power. He had been the friendless outsider at the school since the beginning – as well as the victim of taunting, bullying, and beatings from other boys and Tichy – that he had never even bothered to imagine what it might be like if the roles were reversed. Now he had Radek scared of him, and Marek for the first time experienced what it might be like to have actual power and respect. The cartridge necklace gave him that, but Marek was only all too aware that it could be taken away from him at any time if he messed up with Tichy. He couldn't let that happen, certainly not for the next three weeks.

"Maybe we can play that game later," offered Marek. He didn't really care for his roommate, but the simple truth was, he was desperate for companionship, and maybe Tichy's necklace would help him on that front, too.

Radek seemed satisfied and relieved and indeed managed to borrow a chessboard from the common room so they really could play. It didn't take long for Marek to realize that Radek was so bad at chess that it wasn't even fun to win. Or maybe the boy had played so poorly because he was afraid of defeating Marek? Either way, their first match also was their last. It had been too awkward to repeat.

The evening from that point on was boring and uneventful until curfew. As the boys readied themselves for bed, Marek had made sure to position his shoes nearby, and as the lights went off, he lay on his back, excitement coursing through his veins. Tichy hadn't told him anything about it, but he had something planned for Marek, and the boy wasn't dreading this event as he did with so many others. Just the idea of sneaking out of his dorm, perhaps even out of the building, was exciting enough and he was going to be doing it with other boys. Normally, conduct like that would earn a boy a severe punishment. The older boys still spoke of an unnamed upperclassman who had snuck out one night and gone into the village, sneaking into bars and roaming the streets until he was picked up half-drunk in the early morning hours and returned to the school. Boys also still spoke of his pitiable howls as he was severely caned by Mr. Tichy for his antics.

Shortly after the room descended into darkness the door opened.

"Psssst! Come!" came a sharp whisper that was directed at Marek's lower bed.

When the whisper came, Marek was ready. He shot up, pushed his feet into his shoes, and slid quietly from his room. He wondered what Radek would think about all this if the boy were still awake to know. It felt good to be part of Tichy's secret club.

It was Rychlý, his own cartridge displayed, who ushered Marek to the stairs, taking him down but not out, through the connecting hallway into the next wing of the building where the staff lived. Marek nodded in silent recognition. He recognized the older boy from the senior football team. They were far from peers, but it didn't seem that way just now.

Marek's own cartridge flapped against his pajama top as they quickly but quietly descended the stairs in tandem. Then he followed the older boy as Rychlý led him into a part of the building where he never had been before. Neither boy had said a word to the other after the command to come, and Marek had no idea where they were going. Already, the evening was becoming very interesting. Were they on a mission? To where? To do what? Whatever it was, it was exciting, and Marek's veins coursed with adrenaline. Marek had trouble keeping his bearings as the sure-footed Rychlý led him down and across, to the fire escape, through a door, into a room. Where were they? Were they still in the wing with the staff residences?

They could have proceeded to their destination without going up and down any stairs, but that way they would have passed by the flats of other teachers and the janitor. This way, it was down, across, up a drafty fire-escape and to a door.

Rychlý stopped him and handed a flexible, black bandanna to Marek.

"Over your eyes. Don't worry, it's just for a few steps and a moment," he said, in a reassuring manner.

Marek nodded as he took the swatch of cloth from the older boy. For the first time since leaving his room, Marek felt a little unsettled, a bit of worry adding to his excitement. Why did Rychlý want his eyes covered? Or, more likely, why did Tichy? But he quickly spun the bandanna into a bandage as he had been taught in Pioneers, placed it over his eyes, and tied it at the back. It made for an effective blindfold. Marek simply would have to trust the older boy from here.

Rychlý tugged at the sleeve of his pajamas and Marek stepped slowly forward and through the now-open door. Unable to see, now, Marek's other senses were heightened. What was that smell? It was pleasant, like a candle, but the room felt very warm. It seemed far too warm for comfort, certainly for sleeping. It reminded Marek a bit of the boiler room at the gymnasium. He took another few tentative steps forward as Rychlý guided him along.

Marek nearly jumped out of his skin as loud music suddenly began to play. He had been listening carefully for any clues from his surroundings, and the first few loud, booming orchestral notes were the equivalent of soothing a baby to sleep with a brass band. The sound was so powerful and unexpected that Marek almost fell backwards on his butt, but Rychlý had a good grip on him and kept him upright. His heart rate spiked as the other boy steadied him and drew him further into the room.

It was then that Marek sensed movement around him; the boy's heart rate spiked with fear. The music – Smetana's Blanik from Ma Vlast/My Fatherland, turned softer, with the Ktoz Su Bozi Bojovnici – the dark, rebellious Hussite choral that reportedly had won them an important battle, scaring the crusaders away as they sang it – recognizable only in the background in fragments and bits, and only to a trained ear. Marek's shoes were pulled off by one surprising pair of hands on his left, and another on his right. Other sets of hands grasped his arms. Unseeing and hot, with strong hands all over him, it suddenly was awfully reminiscent of the blanket incident, and Marek was afraid.

"St-stop," the frightened boy protested as visions of another vicious beating filled his mind.

"Hurta – clothes off. Everything, the bandanna last." Tichy's voice was unmistakable over the music, even as it increased in volume and became more dramatic once again.

The man's voice cut through the music, speaking to Marek. It was a relief to know that Mr. Tichy was present, and that Marek had not been brought here alone to be beaten again by another pack of boys. Marek breathed heavily as he willed himself to calm down, to avoid panicking. His efforts were at least somewhat successful, and with a silent prayer, he reached for his pajama trousers and lowered them down his hips. He didn't even think of disobeying.

The music played on, but no one was touching him anymore. Tichy loved deep notes and had two big wooden speakers and a sub-woofer, the booming, reverberating quality of which Marek could feel now. There was soft, warm carpet underfoot. Not like the disgusting, cheap, plastic office carpet in Tichy's office; this was a proper, soft, woolen carpet, warm and pleasant underfoot.

Marek released the trousers and stepped out of them and slowly removed his top that was taken from his hands. He was naked, now, and had only the bandanna to go. He felt very nervous. It was clear that there were multiple boys around him, and Tichy, but who else? Were they all Tichy's boys, or others? He removed the bandanna, and looked around, wide-eyed.

Six boys stood in a circle around him looking eerie in the subdued light. Each held a big, white candle, of a size you normally see only in a church, each more than a foot long and thick. The boys all were shirtless with their cartridges dangling from chains over their naked chests. They all had dark sweatpants on and dark socks. The room was smokey and filled with the scent of incense.

Marek looked from boy to boy, recognizing three – or was it four? He looked at Tichy. Was he in Tichy's apartment? He had to be, but it seemed so strange in the dim light.

Tichy sat on an armchair that looked much like a throne. With a lamp directly behind Tichy's chair being the main light source other than the candles, Marek could see little more than his outline. Tichy looked at Marek as he picked up a machete from the side of the chair. In the boy's imagination, it easily could pass for a sabre or a sword.

"Turn around, step toward number six, and kneel," commanded Tichy.

Now Marek was confused as well as frightened. What did the number even mean? Where was the number six? Then his eyes saw the numbers adorning the other boys' chests. He looked for number six; it was Rychlý. Nervously, Marek stepped toward the boy and knelt upright before him, his naked body shaking somewhat even in the cloying heat. Marek knew that this was a ritual of some sort. But for what? The boy felt very exposed, and as he knelt, he clasped his hands together over his genitals. He was the only boy present who was completely naked. He also was the youngest, smallest, and obviously the newest boy in the room by far.

Rychlý gazed down at the boy kneeling before him and whisked what looked to Marek like a small sword from a holster behind his back. It was only a wooden stick, shaped like a weapon and painted silver, but the effect was impressive, nonetheless. The older boy touched the tip of the blade to Marek's chest. It wasn't particularly sharp, but it looked menacing, wood or not, especially in the dim light.

With his hands still clasped tightly over his genitals, Marek looked up at the older boy from his knees. He already had determined that this was an initiation rite of sorts, complete with music, candles, swords, and pomp. That made him feel a bit better about his odds of surviving it, but his heart rate had barely subsided since the first tones of the march had blared from Tichy's speakers. He willed himself to calm down as Rychlý began to speak.

"I am Jakub Rychlý. I will stand by you and protect you for as long as you stand with us and know your place in our ranks. But you will wish I had run this blade straight through you if you ever betray us or our beloved Leader."

"Welcome, Marek, to our ranks. Stand up, brother." He lowered the sword, then dropped it to the floor and gave Marek a quick hug.

Marek listened as Rychlý spoke, then stood and accepted the older boy's hug. Marek hadn't been hugged since he left home in September, and he felt surprisingly emotional even at the clearly choreographed display of affection.

"Go kneel in front of number five," Rychlý said in a normal voice as he cocked his head. "And stop hiding yourself, newbie," he chortled.

"Thanks," Marek whispered. He turned, shuffled a short distance, and knelt before the boy known to him only as "V."

One by one, Marek went to the older boys, and the ritual was repeated. Martin Kopal also was thirteen, but bigger and older, also a second-year. Tomáš Vávra was fourteen, a third-year. Filip Palach, was fourteen, also a third-year. Jan (who went by 'Honza') Krejčí, was fifteen, the tallest and most athletic of the lot, also a third-year. Zdeněk Saal, was sixteen, a fourth-year. The boys had a few things in common. They all were athletic, fit, and handsome. There were no fatties or spotty, poxy uglies among them. There also were no redheads; not one of them was pale or pasty in skin tone.

They each lowered their candles to the floor when Marek approached and knelt before them, then touched the younger boy's chest with their swords and repeated the same oath that Rychlý had used. When they were finished reciting the words, they each had Marek stand to receive a perfunctory, welcoming hug.

To Marek, everything seemed perfectly planned and utterly genuine. The boy was impressed with the choreography of the ritual; it seemed obvious that it had been performed many times before. As his anxiety about the event slowly subsided, Marek also felt happy. His induction into the ranks of Tichy Boys seemed almost too good to be true. He was being accepted by the other boys, no questions asked.

Finally, the last boy told Marek to kneel in front of the "Leader," pronouncing the word in such a way that it was obvious it was meant to be spelled with a capital L. As Marek knelt, he felt oddly grateful to the man who had tormented him so over the past 15 days. It seemed that with this decision to become the man's ally, all of Marek's problems had been solved at once. His feelings of gratitude were absurd, of course, given what Tichy had done to him and forced him to do, but all of that was in the past, and there was no way for Marek to change any of it. The boy was relieved that Tichy had been willing to extend his protection, because without it, Hanák's lecture would have resulted finally with the boy in the hospital – or worse – from unseen assailants who sprung from doorways with blankets in hand and fists at the ready.

Tichy smiled as Marek knelt before him. Up close, the man's features were recognizable, even in the semi-darkness of the room. Marek watched as Tichy lifted the real sword, the steel blade flashing in the candlelight as it pressed to the boy's chest. The boy couldn't help but swallow nervously as the cold, pointy tip touched home. Then the man began to speak.

"I am Tichy, the Leader. You are in my ring and under my protection for as long as you stand with us and know your place in our ranks. But you will wish I had run this blade straight through you if you ever betray us or me."

"Welcome, Marek, to our ranks. Stand up, son," said Tichy, as he lowered the machete and beckoned Marek to stand, then took him into his arms for a hug.

Marek was stunned. Tichy had called him "son." That had been completely unexpected.

Tichy turned Marek around to face the remaining six Tichy's boys and ruffled his hair as he liked to do – although right now it felt more like after the match to Marek, a cheerful sort of gesture, not like the patronizing, puppy-petting touch it tended to be during and after their one-on-one sessions.

Marek felt on top of the world as he looked at the other boys and realized that somehow, he, Marek Hurta, had managed to join their ranks. It hadn't been easy, and it had come with some very significant and painful setbacks, but Tichy hadn't been lying about being Marek's ally. It was never something that Marek had set out to accomplish – never something that he even thought was attainable – but now he found himself in a very select, secret order within the school. One that, heretofore, he had heard spoken about only in whispers. Nobody messed with Tichy's boys, and now he was one of them. It was heady stuff.

Tichy slipped some small objects into Marek's hand. Marek looked down at his hand to see two dice. One was white with black dots, the other was black with white dots. Were they going to play a game? Marek was confused. He looked at Tichy.

"All right, Number Seven," said Tichy. "Time to prove that you are truly ready to undergo your initiation. Roll. White die, mouth. Black die, ass. If you roll the same number on both, that's a free choice of either side for me, and then you roll again for the other side."

"Go on. Get down on all fours and roll."

Mouth? Ass? That didn't sound promising, and yet, Marek already had reconciled himself to the price of Tichy's help. He had not fooled himself into believing that Tichy's protection would be free. What he hoped, instead, was that it would be tolerable, and that it would not be of the cruel, wimp's punishment-variety, since he no longer was being punished.

Marek dropped to his hands and knees as his cheeks blushed pink in the dim light. It was embarrassing with the other boys looking on, but Tichy already had warned him about that. At least he could be nearly certain that the other boys would keep their mouths shut about whatever went on. If word got out, they had almost as much to lose as Marek, and perhaps even as much, or more. At least they all had been initiated before him.

A boy placed a cardboard box on the floor before Marek, and with a last, silent prayer, the boy tossed the dice into it. They spun in the box, then came to rest. The black die revealed three dots, while the white one showed five.

The other boys peered down at the dice. There was a chortle, and a jealous-sounding whisper Marek couldn't quite make out. He looked up as the boys tittered and buzzed about the outcome of the roll. What was this all about?

It did not take the youngster long to find out. Before Marek could protest, or even fully process what was happening, the "game" already had started. Martin knelt behind Marek as Filip pulled his black sweatpants down and knelt in front of the boy. Within seconds of rolling the dice, Marek was staring at only the second erect penis he had ever seen in his life that didn't belong to him. Filip's penis was thin and slightly bent. It was also fully erect, the foreskin peeling back to reveal a scarlet, almost purplish glans that glistened in the semi-darkness.

"Go on then, suck," ordered Filip. "And don't bite me when Martin starts his go!" Filip moved his cock towards Marek's mouth. Behind Marek, Martin spread some cream on his cock and leaned in to press the tip of his erection against the younger boy's pucker. Marek tensed as he felt Martin's cockhead at his backdoor, and it was only then that Marek realized he was about to be spit-roasted. Without fanfare or delay, Martin slid his cock up the new initiate's behind.

There was only mild discomfort with Martin's entry. He was much smaller than Tichy and it didn't really hurt, but Marek was faced with another cock right in front of him, and there were four other boys – and Tichy – standing around watching. Marek stared at Filip's penis for a second, hesitating only briefly before reaching up with his right hand and guiding it into his mouth. He had made his deal, and now it was time to pay for Tichy's protection. The boy was reconciled to his decision. Sucking Filip's cock was better than being beaten to a pulp every day for the next three weeks. Even taking it up the ass would be tolerable compared to that. Marek already knew he was a wimp – and in Tichy's eyes, the lowest kind of wimp – so what did this even matter, anyway?

Marek contemplated his situation as he sucked Filip and Martin began to fuck him from behind. It made him feel a bit better to know that every single one of Tichy's Boys had, at least on one occasion, done what he was doing right now, and had taken Tichy's cock up the ass, as well. The other part – the part that made Marek the lowest kind of wimp, the worst in the history of the school – the boy hoped Tichy would be merciful enough to keep to himself.

Of course, Marek had no idea that this part of his initiation was quite unlike any the other boys ever had faced. Like the earlier ritual, it was carefully orchestrated, but unlike the rest of the process, the game had been newly invented by Tichy for this evening, for this occasion, and for a particular boy named Hurta. None of the boys in the room had been required to do anything remotely like this to join his ranks. The man had made sure in advance that none of the boys had cum in several days. His boys weren't allowed to cum unless he said so, and he had denied them for nearly a week while he waited for Marek to capitulate. As a result, all six of Marek's new brothers-in-arms were very, very keen to play.

Tichy also had made it clear to them that while Marek was joining their ranks, his position would be very different from theirs. While he never usually felt any need to explain himself to them, he understood that the boys took pride in being in Tichy's Army. That status helped them to accept the man's cock from time to time, which none of them particularly liked to do. Eventually, they saw the act not as a humiliation but as a sign of their toughness. It also was the price they needed to pay for their status. Tichy knew that the acceptance of the lowly Hurta boy into their ranks likely would cause some concern among the other boys. They could well see it as in some way diminishing their own status and worth. So, Tichy had stressed that Hurta would always remain as number seven, never going any higher. More than that, the normal rules and limitations on their behavior to the boys below them would not apply to Marek after the initial few days. Although the new boy officially had been given the number seven, he was not really a soldier in the army, but just a wimp and bitch who would serve them all.

Marek was totally unaware of any of this and had resolved to pay Tichy's price without wimping out or complaining. He knew it would be hard – nothing about Tichy was easy – but he would try to do it without the wimp factor that he knew Tichy detested so much. So, he sucked Filip as best he could, trying to bring the older boy to an orgasm. He was hampered a bit by his hands-and-knees position, unable to get his head angle quite right to bring his tongue to bear. And Filip wasn't helping, much, either, as he basically fucked Marek's mouth in his enthusiasm, rather than letting the younger boy fellate him properly.

Martin was as eager and horny as any of the boys, and he deposited his load in Marek's butt in what seemed to him like only a minute, and in all honestly probably wasn't much longer than that.

"Black die – roll," he said simply as he pulled out. Awkwardly, Marek reached for the box and extracted the black die, all without Filip's cock ever leaving his mouth. He picked it up and gave it a roll. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that it displayed two dots face-up. Meanwhile, Filip's musky, slick cock was also already leaking precum into Marek's mouth. He wasn't going to last much longer, but – as it turned out – that didn't at all mean that the game was over.

"Is that the best you can do?" grunted Filip. "If you don't hurry up, your butt will be very sore before the game's done," he warned with a playful, slightly teasing smile.

Marek sensed movement around him, but he could see very little because Filip's bare abdomen blocked all but his peripheral vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jan pulling off his trousers. One glance was all it took to determine that he not only was the biggest and strongest of the boys, but also close to adult size in the cock department – pretty much as big as Tichy, just not as thick.

With a quick smear of the cream that Tichy always seemed to have on hand, Jan was balls deep in Marek's ass. It hurt. He wasn't a careful, experienced, aware lover like Tichy could be when he put his mind to it. He started to rut Marek almost like a dog, using hard, sharp thrusts that were aimed purely at getting himself off.

"Unnnh," Marek gasped around Filip's cock as Jan began thrusting hard and fast. It was by accident that due to his height and the downward angle of his thrust, he started to thrum against that special spot inside Marek, forcing the twelve-year-old boy's already deprived and trigger-happy cock to swell into a full erection. Marek's eyes watered at the boy's aggressiveness, even as he felt a twinge and then a tingle as the boy's cock rubbed that special spot inside him. His boycock now jutted stiff as a nail from his groin.

Moments later, Filip grunted and came in the younger boy's mouth. It was waterier cum than Tichy's, and there was much less of it, but it tasted even more bitter and oily somehow, perhaps from something Filip had eaten. Marek was surprised to find that cum tasted differently depending on whose it was.

"Wait!" ordered Filip. "Show everyone. Then swallow. And roll the white die. Come on, move it. Keep it going, smooth and continual. No breaks!"

Marek already had swallowed most of it when the order came to show, but he opened his mouth, twisting his head, displaying the remainder of the bitter liquid. Then he swallowed the rest of it down and reached for the white die, rolling it into the box with a little gasp as the boy behind him – who was it, again? Jan? – continued to batter his ass. His frenzied thrusts undulated Marek's entire body.

The die revealed two dots once again. Marek bowed his head. He was already starting to tire, yet he knew that the game probably was not even close to being over.

Number two, Jan, already was busy fucking his ass – and it seemed the rules of the game allowed the boys to pull out only after they had cum, so Tichy stepped up and unzipped his fly.

"Go on – like a good bitch, too," he chuckled and winked. "Eyes. Throat."

Things were getting too hard for Marek to follow, so he gave up trying to predict what would happen next. He had already rolled a two, but that didn't seem to matter, as now Tichy knelt in front of him and presented his cock for sucking. Gone was the pleasing-to-the-ears "son" reference; it had been replaced by "bitch," which made Marek's cheeks burn as the man said it right in front of the other boys. He wasn't sure which moniker was worse: "wimp, or "bitch."

Marek knew that what he was doing now was part of the price he needed to pay for Tichy's protection. He had known all along that the price would be high, and he had known since his beating that that price would involve his mouth and ass. He reached for Tichy's cock – his hand shaking from the violence of Jan's thrusts – and immediately placed it where Filips's cock had been only seconds before. He looked up at the man, his eyes almost rolling into his forehead from the angle, and began to please Tichy's familiar cock with his tongue. With the man's cockhead wet, now, he began to bob, his efforts in that regard somewhat aided by Jan's frantic thrusting.

Pleasing Tichy's cock was much more of a workout than sucking Filip's, especially given how specific he was with his demand, but Marek didn't have to do it for long. After only about two minutes or so, Jan grunted behind him and shot another load of cum up Marek's butt. There was a great shuffling of positions as Tichy pulled out of his mouth and Jan immediately came around to kneel before him. His cock was wet with cum and cream, and it smelled like it had just been pulled out of Marek's ass, which it had. But the die had chosen him to have the next go at Marek's mouth, so Tichy had given way.

Breathing more heavily now, Marek again reached up and ushered the older boy's foul cock between his lips. It tasted horrible, and Marek's expression revealed his revulsion. Even the bitter taste of cum was better than that. Jan's eyes opened wide in fascination as Marek unhesitatingly took his cock into his mouth, even though it had just cum, and up the younger boy's ass, no less. Tichy had briefed the boys about the lowly, wimpish status of their new toy, but seeing was believing. It certainly was a lot different to see it for himself than to just hear about it.

Tichy shoved the black die into Marek's hand once again.

"Black. Roll! Come on! And suck."

The die was back in his hand in a flash, and Marek reluctantly rolled it as cum began to seep from his ass and roll down his leg. The heat of the room was starting to get to him, and his body felt moist all over, a mere half a degree from breaking out in actual perspiration.

Jakub, who had escorted Marek here, didn't even bother lubing up. Marek's hole was oozing cum and was slick with cream both inside and out. Jakub's cock was the smallest of all the boys present – his erection smaller by a bit even than Marek's, although he was one year older. His fucking was awkward, and it was hard for him not to slip out due to his size and eagerness.

Meanwhile, Jan – or Honza, as most of the boys knew him – was figuring out just how talented a cocksucker he had wrapped around his dirty cock.

"Open wide," he demanded and pushed in deep, almost all the way a few times. Then he pulled out most of the way and huffed as Marek's tongue brushed over his sensitive underside.

"Ooooh, do that again, slut. "Mhmmmm. Stretch that tongue. Push up against me with it. Mhmmm. And move it. Side to side." He gripped Marek's head and didn't let him move his head, forcing him, for the time being, to work the older boy's sensitive glans, piss slit, and frenulum purely with his tongue.

Marek really was starting to tire, now, and more than that, he was starting to feel disoriented. It was hot in the room – too hot – and he already had lost track of the number of cocks that he had taken. He also had no idea how many cocks he had left to go. Tichy alone had always been good for two orgasms every time they met, and he had yet to cum even once. Adding to Marek's misery, Jan's cock tasted particularly, almost gruesomely awful in his mouth, either because of the lubricating cream, Marek's own ass, or the mixture of cum and slime that coated it.

This was getting very hard, and for the first time, Marek began to consider whether the price for Tichy's protection was too high. But, of course, it wasn't. The boy still felt pain all over his body from the vicious beating that had been administered to him by the older boys. They had set out, almost literally, to tenderize the boy's body like a piece of meat and based on the extent of the resulting bruising and pain, Marek had to say that they had done a pretty fine job of it. No, the price was not too high, and his initiation as a Tichy Boy tonight undoubtedly would be the worst of it. If the other boys could be initiated like this and survive it, Marek could, too. He simply couldn't wimp out again, not when he knew what Tichy might do to him if he did, or what the man would make him do in front of the other boys.

The new boy didn't react and barely noticed as Rychlý entered his bottom. He was more concerned with Honza, who was nearly burying himself in Marek's already tired mouth and throat. The boy was relieved when Honza paused long enough to let him use his tongue. It gave some respite to the boy's lips and jaw, which were starting to feel very abraded and sore.

It was at this point, as Jakub came with a small squirt up Marek's butt, that Tichy took over and began to roll the dice for the beleaguered boy. Marek was too busy trying to stay reasonably upright on his hands and knees as he was serially spit-roasted by the other boys.

"Jan, you're up next for his ass, so hurry," said Tichy as he mounted Marek from behind, none too gently. He was a bit turned off by the heat and smell, the crowdedness of the place, and the sliminess of Marek's spunk-filled ass, but not enough to lose his erection. He fucked the boy with rapid, short, efficient thrusts, managing to cum in some six minutes or so.

At nearly the same time, Jan tensed, held his breath, and went all red in the face. It had been seemingly forever – many months, at least – since he had been allowed to cum twice in the same day, and it had never felt as good as this. Marek's tongue was amazing. He offered up a jet of cum, strong and sticky, into Marek's mouth, and pulled out, muttering "show, swallow," almost breathlessly. He looked at his cock, still half-hard, and tried to jerk it back into a third erection but had no such luck.

Marek could feel himself rapidly tiring. His entire body felt sore everywhere. The bruising from his recent beatings seemed to be singing, while his mouth, jaw, and ass were aching for relief. But the cocks just kept coming and cumming, seemingly without end, in both of his ends. He grunted as Tichy's adult-sized cock re-entered his ass, spreading his pert cheeks, and plunging hard into his rectum. Even with all the fluids in and leaking from his hole, Tichy's cock hurt, and it was hard to concentrate on pleasing Honza's with his tongue, but he tried nonetheless. Finally, the older boy came, and Marek was pretty sure that Tichy did, too, as he could feel an even greater quantity of warm liquid oozing down his leg.

"I'm out," Honza announced a bit sadly. He knew he could fuck again if the dice weren't against him, in ten minutes, maybe even as little as five. But not right now. And so Zdenek and Tomas, the only boys who hadn't yet had a go, got in position. Zdenek gave Jan a grumpy look for causing the game to come to its finale before he had a chance to cum multiple times. He picked Marek's rear end, gripped it firmly and started to fuck, even as Tomas slipped his average-sized but rather pungent and salt-and-vinegar-flavored – and quite obviously unwashed – cock into Marek's mouth. He held Marek's head as it started to droop and as good as face-fucked him, even as Zdenek had an impressive, eight-minute, hard and steady go at Marek's ass.

Tomas came first, making Marek show off the spunk before telling him to swallow, then stood up and pulled his sweatpants all the way off against the cloying heat in the room. Zdenek followed not too much later, cumming in Marek's ass with a deep, guttural grunt. He was one of the more straight-leaning boys himself, but wasn't going to complain about the wet, pleasantly tight, yet flexible boyhole that he had just used. Not with more than half a year left here at the school still – six more months with limited chances to cum. Even if he'd prefer a girl, he already knew, just like Jan, that this wasn't the last time he would be having a go at Marek Hurta's 12-year-old ass.

It was so hot. Marek was sweating hard now. Beads of moisture rolled into his eyes, and he reached up to wipe them away. The boy was getting disoriented, too. There were too many hands holding his hips and head, too many abdomens blocking his vision, too many bodies swapping position, too many cocks, flavors, and fluids assailing and assaulting his mouth and tongue.

Another cock entered his bottom, and Marek neither knew nor cared whose it was. Tomas's cock was gritty and gross as the older boy thrust in and out on his own, not even caring if Marek used his tongue. It was almost better that way, as the younger boy's tongue was numb and no longer fully responding to his commands. More cum flooded his mouth, and Marek almost swallowed it down, before being reminded by Tomas to show his work. His body started to sag as Marek suddenly felt so tired, so hot.

And then, just like that, it was over.

"Jakub, Martin – clean him up, get him to his bed," announced Tichy suddenly. "We're done."

By the end of it, Marek had quite literally been fucked silly. He had been used at both ends, relentlessly, for … the boy didn't even know how long. It had seemed endless. He wasn't even sure that it was over. There were still boys around him, touching him, holding him up, but he didn't have a cock in his mouth, and he didn't think he had one in his ass. He had never felt so tired in his life, or so hot and sweaty. He was terribly thirsty, and he desperately needed a drink. Something cold would be nice …

Everyone slipped their clothes back on and dispersed rapidly, except for Zdenek, whose duty it was to stay behind to tidy up, move the furniture back, and air the room out. Meanwhile, Jakub and Martin wiped Marek's face and butt with a rag so it wasn't quite so obvious that he had been fucked; although if anyone saw him up close and cared to look, it would be quite easy to tell and smell with a fair degree of certainty that Marek had just been used quite extensively at both ends.

The boy's head jerked up as the boys began to dress him, pulling his pajamas on one limb at a time. His brain had reset. Was it over? Were they done? Or were there more cocks to suck and take in his ass? It seemed to be over. Have I passed? Had he made it through his initiation rite? Was Mr. Tichy pleased with me?

His escort gathered his shoes up, not bothering to put them on Marek's feet as they tried to get him to walk out of Tichy's flat. Marek found himself upright, but as he tried to stand and walk, his feet and legs simply would not comply. Unable to navigate on his own, Marek winced and grunted in pain as the older boys lifted him under his arms, causing the bone-deep bruising he had suffered along his triceps to cry out in protest. They ended up half carrying, half dragging him, as Marek still was disoriented. Where were we going? He had thought he could walk, but when he tried, it didn't go well. Where were the boys taking me? All he wanted to do was sleep. That and have a drink. A nice, long, cold one.

They went down the fire-escape, across the empty corridor below, up the main staircase, and into the bathroom on Marek's floor. The older boys pulled him into the shower room, peeled his pajamas off, and brought him to a shower head. They turned the water on cold and thrust the boy under the stream.

Marek didn't want to take a shower, but the cold water jolted him back to the present. Instantly, he felt cold all over. He started to shiver and shake, but Martin adjusted the water even as he held Marek upright, and then the warm stream just felt soothing on his bruised frame. He could stand on his own now, a bit unsteadily, but it was getting better – or was it? He felt himself start to topple.

"Fuck, his pajama bottoms are soaked in cum," said Jakub as Martin held him under the showerhead. "I'll have to go find clean ones in his room."

Martin nodded, then slapped Marek lightly on the cheek. The slap opened the boy's eyes again. Had they been closed? He hadn't even been aware if they had.

"Dude, stay with it," said Martin. "Reach back and wash your damn ass – it's still oozing cum. You can't mess another pair of pajamas. You can't bring a whole load of cum-soaked clothing to the laundry, particularly when it's not your usual slot – it might get noticed," he grumbled.

Martin still couldn't believe the traitor's grandson had just put himself through that initiation rite, taking more cocks and loads of cum than even Martin cared to count, all to become the last and lowest of Tichy's boys. Tichy had been right – traitor's genes were weak. They were particularly weak in the Hurta boy, the grandson of the notorious Glass King.

"Okay," Marek said softly as he reached behind him and gently wiped at his butt. It was his first spoken word in quite some time. Martin handed him the soap, and Marek slid it behind him and began to soap the backs of his legs and ass. Had there really been an initiation? Had he really been in Tichy's apartment? Had that all really happened, or had it all been a nightmare? It had all seemed real enough, but had he passed? Marek knew he had been out of it for the last bit. Did I comply with all Tichy's instructions during that time? Have I passed the initiation?

Jakub returned with a towel and clean pajama bottoms for Marek as the younger boy finished in the shower. He had even thought to bring Marek's toothbrush and toothpaste after rifling through the boy's belongings to find them. He handed them to Marek as the still-disoriented boy stepped out dripping and Martin began to dry him with the towel.

"Go and brush, unless you really like to go to sleep with the taste of cock and ass all over your mouth," Jakub chortled. "Come on!"

Marek took the toothbrush and toothpaste as the older boy toweled him down. When he was sufficiently dry, Martin helped him to step into his pajama bottoms and then get the top on his upper body. He was able to walk on his own to the sink – or, rather, mostly on his own, with a little help from Martin – where he turned on the cold tap all by himself and used his right hand to cup water into his mouth. It took at least 10 handfuls of cold water before his thirst was even slightly slaked.

He felt better. Now he could brush his teeth, but first, there was a question he needed to ask of the other boys.

"Did I do okay?" he asked the two upperclassmen in a hoarse, exhausted voice. "What did Mr. Tichy say?"

"Hurta, yes, you did fine, you little slut," said Martin as he rolled his eyes. "You're definitely in. Clearly there was a vacancy at the bottom rank for someone who can take a mile of cock in an evening and worry whether it was enough."

Even in his markedly diminished and fatigued state, the older boy's taunting sarcasm was not lost on Marek, but the boy consoled himself in the knowledge that he had passed the test and that the other boys had also been bottom-rankers themselves at one point or another. They had all faced the ritual to become one of Tichy's Boys. At least on that front, Marek had company – or so he thought.

What Marek didn't know was that his ritual had been the first of its kind, and the boys assigned to clean him up and return him to his room were disgusted at his debauchery. All the boys had to suck Tichy and let him fuck them, and now and then allow a higher-ranking boy to have a go, but nothing like this had ever happened before. It seemed surreal and weird that someone would willingly put themselves through what the Hurta kid had just endured. Marek had been fucked silly. Fucked stupid. He had been fucked until he almost passed out. What an incredible loser the boy was. What a slut.

Still, Tichy had given his instructions, so the older boys finished cleaning and dressing Marek without letting him know their opinion of him, then let him brush his teeth and escorted him back to his dorm room.

"Don't miss classes tomorrow," Jakub warned the exhausted boy as they brought him to his bed. "Don't miss meals. Tichy said that's the last bit of your test – you can't fuck up tomorrow. No missed anything, and no failed tests, or you'll get a roasting for it over in his office."

And then they were gone. A pale, wide-awake Radek on his upper bunk didn't make as much as a peep, not even after the boys left and closed the door behind them. He had to have heard the commotion of the boys coming and going and rifling through Marek's possessions, but he had not said a word.

Marek was asleep almost before the older boys had finished pulling his sheet up over him, and certainly before they fled the room seconds later. He slept like death.

NEXT PART