Chapter Twelve

Morning came far, far too early for the 12-year-old. His entire body ached, top to bottom, stem to stern. Where he didn't have actual bruises, which were very few places, his muscles and joints felt achy and sore. This was especially true of his jaw. It hurt to open it even a little bit. Marek knew it would hurt to drink. It would hurt even more to eat. He shut off the alarm in a haze and immediately fell asleep again. There simply was no way he could get out of bed.

Radek genuinely tried to wake him, but he was too afraid to aggravate Marek by doing something aggressive like stealing his blanket or trying to pull the boy off the bed to the floor. Marek sighed and moaned as his roommate tapped and prodded him but he remained virtually dead to the world. If he did awaken long enough to know that Radek was there, he gave no sign of it. The instant the redheaded boy stopped trying, Marek went still again. Eventually, Radek gave up and went to breakfast on his own, but he did manage to negotiate for some extra food and returned with a plate with bread, cheese, butter, ham, and a cup of sweet lemony tea that he left on Marek's desk. Then, with his roommate still dead to the world, he went to class.

When teachers asked about Marek's absence, Radek told them that the boy had seemed ill and probably had a fever, as that was the least likely thing to get punished for when it came to missing classes. A teacher told the nurse, who already had a few boys down with a fever and one with a sprained ankle. She made it to Marek's room just after 10:00 a.m.

Marek still was sleeping when she arrived, but he awakened and even sat up a bit as she entered the room. He knew instantly that he was in trouble and that the nurse's visit posed a particular danger to him. While the pajamas covered the worst of his bruising, if the nurse wanted to make an examination of his body, the severity of his recent beating would be evident to her immediately and difficult questions would be asked. That would be a disaster, especially now after Marek already had paid the high price for Tichy's protection with his mouth and ass.

"Alright, Hurta, what's wrong?" she asked the still-groggy boy. "Is your throat sore? If it's just a cold, I'll leave you with some vitamins and aspirin and you'll get two more days off school, but don't let me see you running about during that time," she said.

"Hold this under your arm," she passed him a glass thermometer. "And don't wiggle, or I'll use the rectal one," she smiled, not realizing how frightening a proposition that was for Marek right now.

"I- I'm fine. I feel fine. I think I- I just overslept," he said to the nurse. He glanced at his alarm clock to catch the time and his blood instantly ran cold in his veins. It was after 10 o'clock! Drábek's class would have started now and he had completely missed the music lesson already. He had also missed breakfast. Marek blanched at the trouble he already was in, looking pale and sick at precisely the wrong moment, as the nurse still was there evaluating what was wrong with him. Now, he really did feel sick.

This was not good. Not good at all. There was bound to be a price to pay for what he had just done, and if the nurse made him stay out of school, it would be infinitely worse with Mr. Tichy. The man would cane him for sure. Marek moaned softly in distress — which wasn't missed by the nurse, who looked at him oddly.

"Really, ma'am, I'm fine," Marek repeated. He really wanted her to leave so he could get dressed and rush to class. "I just overslept."

Marek swung his legs over the side of the bed, but when he tried to stand, he nearly fell to the floor and had to sit back down on the mattress, all the while trying to fake that everything was okay and that he felt fine. Every bone and muscle in his body seemed to be aching fiercely at the same time.

"Are you trying to get yourself expelled, young man?" the nurse asked, seemingly either ignoring or not picking up on Marek's sorry state. "You can't just skip two sessions oversleeping. Rushing to class five minutes late is oversleeping. This is something else altogether, and if you didn't look so pale, I'd call it slacking off."

Marek listened to the nurse, trying to acknowledge what she was saying and speed the woman along at the same time. He had to get to class! The boy felt as if there were a clock ticking in his brain — tick, tick, tick, tick — counting every second he was late. He had already broken Tichy's rule about eating. And he much more than vaguely remembered the older boys warning him not to miss class, just as he fell into his sleep-coma last night. Tichy was not going to be pleased. And the longer this went on, the less pleased he was going to be. He might also decide that Marek had failed his initiation and that everything from last night had been for nothing.

"I'll tell you what," the nurse continued as she sat at his desk, taking out her pen and opening her notebook. "Take the vitamins and the aspirin. I'll write it down as nausea with an upset stomach. Eat what you have there," she said as she pointed to the breakfast Radek had left for him. "Take it easy, have a light lunch, drink lots, and take it easy this afternoon," she said, while writing out the note that would explain his absence.

Marek listened with a sinking feeling and watched her write. The nurse's note would prevent him from getting into trouble with the teachers and Skala but Mr. Tichy was another, much more serious matter. He took the note as the nurse handed it to him. It had an added admonishment, written in all caps — "NO TRAINING OR P.E. – REMAINDER OF WEEK" – and Marek's face paled noticeably as he read it. The boy knew then that he was doomed. Mr. Tichy was going to be livid. Marek knew that he would get the cane, now, for sure.

The nurse noted his disappointment and tried to smile reassuringly.

"I think you just overdid it during the match and it's catching up with you," she said as she stood to her feet to leave. "You clearly have a case of muscle fever, fatigue, and exhaustion. If I see you as much as setting foot on the pitch or in the gymnasium, I'll drag you out of there and lock you up in the infirmary for the rest of the week. And trust me, boy, I'm not joking," she said with a frown as she popped a fizzy multivitamin tablet into a glass of fresh water for him, took the thermometer back, and walked out of the room.

Once the woman had left, Marek sprang from his bed — at least, that is what his brain commanded him to do. His body, on the other hand, had second thoughts about complying, and Marek looked like a cross between a geriatric kangaroo and a crippled giraffe as he limped, hopped, and stumbled to his feet. His body hurt all over, the bruising seeming to have marinated in his muscle tissue for the better part of the last two days before revealing itself now in all its increased, painful glory.

He dressed quickly — or as quickly as he could, anyway — and limped to class with the nurse's note in hand. The breakfast that Radek had brought him remained entirely uneaten on his desk. Nothing mattered to the boy except being less late. In Marek's troubled mind, every additional minute meant another stroke of the cane.

Arriving at Mr. Drábek's room, he twisted the knob nervously and opened the door.

"I'm sorry I'm late to class, sir," he said as he approached the man and handed him the note.

It felt like the eyes of 20 boys were drilling holes in the back of his head as he waited for the teacher's response. Marek was very wary of Drábek. With Tichy now being his bought-and-paid-for ally, the other boys off his back, and Skala, it seemed, virtually a non-factor, Drábek was the only person at the school who harbored malice against him with any ability to do anything about it. The boy knew that he could still get in trouble in Drábek's class — legitimately, if his studies faltered, or unfairly, with another cheat-sheet-type issue — and if he did, there would be hell to pay with Tichy. There already was going to be hell to pay with Tichy for what had happened this morning, but that reckoning still was hours away, and the goal now was to ensure that neither Drábek, nor anyone else, made it any worse in the meantime.

Drábek glanced at the note the boy handed him and gave Marek a skeptical but rather amused smile.

"Seems like our little přátelák hero has friends in all the right places," he said as his eyes flicked between the note and the stainless-steel chain visible around Marek's neck. The outline of the cartridge was visible under the boy's school shirt.

"Can't argue with the nurse, can I, now, Hurta?" said the man, with barely disguised sarcasm. "You do look a bit worse for wear. Up late last night, were we?" he said in a contemptuous voice. "Take your seat – and try not to moan.

Ignoring Drábek's taunt, Marek forced himself to walk upright and normally to his desk. If he did moan with the pain — because his entire body fucking hurt, especially his ass — it was a barely audible one. It hurt to sit, but he tried as best he could to remain still and not call unnecessary attention to himself. One didn't have to be a genius or even all that observant to notice that Marek was shuffling about like a buggered penguin – which was an apt description of him, as he indeed had been thoroughly buggered, and his bruised body everywhere sported the black-and-yellow coloration of an emperor penguin.

Fortunately for Marek, the classes after that were uneventful. No one touched him, insulted him, or tried to provoke him. Whether he showed it off or not, everyone knew he had a cartridge and had become untouchable. It seemed that he was unapproachable, too, as nobody spoke to him, but he simply was too sore and worried to care about that.

The seconds, minutes, and hours ticked inexorably on from there, all of them pointing almost tauntingly toward the 4 o'clock hour and Marek's next appointment with Tichy. Marek tried to atone for the events of the morning by eating a full, healthy lunch despite the pain in his jaw. He was timely to every class. He paid attention, took notes, and even participated once — only because he was called on, of course, but still. The teachers mostly were talking about the final assignments due before the break and review sessions for final exams once classes resumed.

After his final class, Marek limped his way back to his room and dropped his books there. It was just after 3 o'clock. He didn't dare lie down for fear of dozing off so he sat at his desk with a sore ass and pretended to read. He was worried sick about what Mr. Tichy would do to him for missing classes. Would the man take the cane to him? Would he lose his cartridge? Marek was consumed with anxiety that only intensified as the witching hour approached.

At ten minutes to four, Marek stood up and prepared to leave the room. He dreaded his visit with Tichy like a death-row inmate scheduled for execution.

"If they find me dead somewhere," he told Radek in a serious tone, "you know who did it."

Radek paled, his eyes wide, and turned away. The joke might have been amusing to him if he didn't already believe it was a genuine possibility. Tichy scared the living shit out of him. He could tell from Marek's tone that his roommate was expecting trouble over the missed sessions. But what could he say? What could he do? He was still wondering what Marek had been put through the night before. Had Tichy really fucked him in his butt? Was that rumor true? And what was with the cartridge? How had Marek pulled that off?

Radek certainly didn't dare ask, but shortly after Marek left the room, he rifled through Marek's laundry, finding the stinky pajamas from the night before, all crusty with dried cum on the bottoms. He gulped. So that rumor was true! Marek indeed had been fucked in the ass, and he hadn't even reported it, or anything! He had just slept it off. Radek told himself he would tell everyone if Tichy tried that with him. He'd call his father. He'd leave the school. He'd call the cops! But Marek hadn't done any of those things. Radek guessed it was true what they said – it was a choice, being a Tichy Boy, and it took a certain kind of a boy to want to be in that group. Radek was glad he wasn't that kind of a boy. More than that, he was glad that Tichy had never shown any interest in him, at least not in that way. Having to report to Tichy on Marek was bad enough, but being fucked in the butt by the man would be a thousand times worse!

Marek was glad that he had left himself a full 10 minutes to walk from his room to Tichy's office. What should have been a leisurely, less-than-five-minute jaunt for an athletic-and-energetic 12-year-old took nearly twice that long, and Marek felt every step of it. His bottom was the main problem. He still was sore everywhere, but his anus rubbed and burned as he walked. Despite Martin's exhortation and his efforts at cleaning, more cum had leaked out overnight, and, because he hadn't been able to shower again this morning, the crusty residue of dried cum between his cheeks seemed to be sanding his sensitive butt skin away with every step. With an angry expression on his face, it occurred to him that he could have gone to the bathroom and cleaned up a bit instead of sitting at his desk in pain for an hour, worrying and feeling sorry for himself.

As he shuffled along like a geriatric old man six or seven decades his senior, Marek did feel sorry for himself. Being Tichy's ally was proving to be a very hard business, and it was likely soon to be a very painful one, as well. He had fucked up and disobeyed, well and truly, and there absolutely was no way that Tichy wasn't already aware of that. For one thing, Radek probably had already ratted him out to the man. And if not Radek, any number of other boys would know that he had not gone to breakfast or attended classes this morning. His music instructor, Mr. Baránková, may also have reported him for cutting his class. Marek probably should have gone to Baránková later and shown him the nurse's note. But what good would that have done? What good would anything do? Tichy already knew what had happened and why — of that, Marek was certain.

Only one small glimmer of hope penetrated the gloom and doom in Marek's mind. It was possible — very remote, but possible — that Tichy would understand that the initiation ceremony had taken a lot out of him and show him some mercy. But what, really, were the odds of that? Maybe the same as rolling a one on a black-colored die? Marek had been warned not to do precisely what he had then gone and done. Maybe he would need to roll two ones — snake eyes — on a pair of white-and-black dice to escape Tichy's wrath. Either way, the odds were far too low for the boy to get his hopes up much.

As Marek would learn very shortly, he had assessed those odds much too generously in his own favor. Tichy sat in his office. He was sober and the room was tidy and well-aired. There was no smell of smoke wafting in the air today. He responded to the knock on the door with a loud, sharp "IN!" that sounded as ominous as it did angry. If Marek could have seen the expression on Tichy's face through the door, he might have turned and fled as it would not have been difficult to surmise that the man was furious. It was the sort of cold, icy, potentially deadly fury that Marek would not want to see on the face of a man that dangerous, especially not when he had so much power over Marek and his fate.

As it was, Tichy's tone from behind the closed door sounded a lot like death to the boy, if death could make a sound. Who knew that a single, two-letter word could be imbued with so much secondary meaning? Upon hearing it, instinctively, Marek placed his hand on the doorknob to turn it, but he paused, then shuddered, as the color drained from his face. He wanted to turn and run from the man more than anything in the whole world — that is, if "running" meant shuffling away like a three-legged turtle with a very bad case of hemorrhoids. But where could he run where the man wouldn't immediately find him? Please let me survive this, please let me survive this, please let me survive this, he prayed silently to himself as he finally mustered the courage to twist the knob and step quietly into Tichy's office.

Without looking at the man even once, Marek closed the door and began to undress. The boy was terrified. The word "IN!" kept reverberating in his brain like a runaway pinball, ricocheting off his cortex, his cerebrum, his cerebellum. He was sure that Tichy would cane him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to take the cane. He was too much of a wimp for that and he readily would admit it. He almost hoped that Tichy would tie him to the desk when he did it because Marek would be utterly unable to stay in position on his own. And if he broke position and tried to escape, evade, or run, Tichy would catch him. He would certainly catch him and then …

He dropped to his hands and knees and began to crawl to the man, his chest and tummy already hyperventilating with fear. Oh, how he hated it here at this stupid fucking boarding school in the hills above Zelezny Brod. He hated it, hated it, hated it. He hated his life and what had happened to it. Most of all, Marek hated what he had become: a fucking wimp. A fucking homosexual. An ass-eater. A shit-eater. He had come crawling back to Tichy for "protection" because he was the lowest, most disgusting kind of wimp there was or ever had been in the entire history of the school. It almost didn't seem to matter that Marek had become one of Tichy's Boys. He remained absolutely petrified of the man, and his life had become a living hell because of him.

Tichy let Marek strip and crawl, not reminding him to lock the door, which the boy had forgotten about in his panic. The man could see that Marek was scared to death, as well he ought to be after his antics this morning. Tichy wasn't angry simply because the boy had disobeyed him; the classes the boy had skipped and the visit from the nurse could have caused questions to be asked that would have been very awkward to answer. It would not take a KGB investigation for Skala to learn that the boy had left his dorm room after curfew and gone somewhere and done something that had left him nearly comatose and made it impossible for him to get out of bed the next morning. Marek had fucked up, alright, and Tichy wasn't happy.

Marek made slow progress across the floor to the man's desk. Even fucking crawling hurt. The older boys had done his knees, punching them over and over and over, but despite the pain he made his way to Tichy's feet, where he remained, trembling, with his head down. The man did not speak for almost a full minute after Marek's arrival but when he eventually did, his words confirmed every fear the boy had been harboring.

"A missed meal. Two missed classes. And now you'll miss training and p.e. for the next several days, Number Seven," said Tichy. "That's five punishments, well and truly earned." The man picked up the cane from his desk and cut the air with it. "Twelve strokes for each, that's 60 with the cane." He let Marek stew on that for several seconds.

Sixty with the cane? Marek almost passed out where he knelt. He shuddered. His eyes wet with tears. He trembled. His buttocks clenched in fear. Tichy couldn't give him 60. His bottom would be cut to ribbons. He would die. Nobody got 60 with the cane. It wasn't possible!

"Except, of course, that my hands are totally tied for now," continued Tichy, after savoring the boy's terrified reaction. "Nobody can take 60 with the cane all in one go, especially not in your condition," he said as he looked at the bruises decorating the boy's back and arms.

Marek continued to tremble as he listened, but the man's next words seemed to offer a small kernel of hope. Marek took them to mean that he eventually would be caned, but not right away. Perhaps over multiple sessions? That thought still filled him with dread as he imagined returning to the man's office day after day to receive more painful stripes. Would Tichy really give him 60? It seemed that he would. Marek didn't think he would be able to survive it. He was too much of a wimp. He would die. The man would end up caning him to death.

"Stand up straight," commanded Tichy. "Arms up," he said. Without waiting for the boy to comply he reached into the open drawer of his desk and extracted an unlabeled tin with a peculiar, sharp-smelling goo inside.

Marek climbed painfully to his feet at the man's command and lifted his aching arms over his head. He trembled with fear. He looked down at the can the man was holding. It smelled nasty even from three feet away. It made Marek think about the ginger root, and that brought another shudder to his small body and a moan from his lips.

Tichy picked up a scoop of the stuff with his fingers and started to rub it into Marek's arms and shoulders, making him lower his arms for a moment before instructing him to put his hands on top of his head. He applied more of the ointment to the boy's back and chest, even rubbing some into his armpits. It smelled sharp and felt cool on the boy's skin. Bit by little bit, Tichy gently massaged the mixture into the boy's skin, head to toe, avoiding only his cock, balls, and the pucker of his anus. Apart from those spots he gave everything a thorough coat.

Marek wasn't sure what was going on as the man rubbed the balm into his muscles. If this was anything like the ginger root, Marek was going to die in agony, but had he somehow managed to win the long-shot die roll for Tichy's mercy? The man's touch was soft. He was almost massaging Marek, and his gentle ministrations confused the boy. Marek wasn't sure what was happening. He had expected a beating; he hadn't expected this.

"Lie down on your side," Tichy instructed. "Curl up and relax. Let it get absorbed. It's a very special salve. Aluminum triacetate with a bit of camphor and yarrow oil, and some herbal tannins. It's a miracle cure for sore muscles and bruises. You should look and feel much better tomorrow. Right now, you're in no shape to be punished, so you've got lucky. You're not ready to take the kind of caning you deserve, not for a few days yet, anyway," he added ominously.

Marek lay down on the carpet and curled up on it. This couldn't be happening, could it? Was the man being merciful? Marek's world was so upside down right now he didn't even know anymore. The punishment he had been dreading now appeared to be postponed. He lay on the floor, naked, and shiny from the salve coating his body. He reeked of the stuff, but he could feel it penetrating and there was no doubt that it was working on his bruised muscles and joints.

"This means that your daily visits, from tomorrow onwards, are reverting back to punishment sessions," Tichy continued. "You'll be punished for this morning, but it won't be in ways that leave any marks – at least for now. I'll be sure to make your sessions especially humiliating and unpleasant, and very wimp-themed to fit you, Marek. Not all the sessions will be one-on-one, as you have already been warned, but I won't cane you until you're fit again, which according to the nurse, isn't till next week. But trust me, you will not get of lightly. I hope you realize that already." said Tichy darkly.

"Now lie. Rest. Don't move, don't talk, I don't want any excuses."

Marek listened with increasing dread to the man's pronouncements, but he didn't dare say a single word. He was afraid of antagonizing Mr. Tichy into changing his mind about the cane. The boy feared the cane more than just about anything. It was no wonder that it had become the punishment implement of choice in boarding, private, and reform schools around the world. The cane fucking hurt, and Marek gladly would postpone his rendezvous with it for as long as he possibly could.

After some fifteen minutes of waiting, Tichy glanced at his watch. The salve should have worked its way into Marek's sore and bruised muscles by now. If it performed as it was supposed to, the boy soon should start to feel significantly better.

"Get up and get dressed," Tichy commanded. "You forgot to lock the door, by the way. I was half hoping someone would come for a visit, but I guess you got lucky again. Now get dressed and scram."

Marek was surprised as he tentatively made his way to his feet. He hadn't expected the session to be over so soon, and Tichy hadn't done anything bad to him. He hadn't been caned. He hadn't been punished or humiliated at all and there had been no sex. He hadn't had to give the man even a single blowjob. Maybe the dice had come up snake eyes after all. It seemed like a miracle to the boy.

"Thank you, sir," he said in a quavering voice as he shuffled back to his clothes. He dressed quickly and left the office before Tichy could change his mind.

The rest of the day went mostly uneventfully. The salve really seemed to be another miracle, especially at this stage of Marek's bruising. Whether from the salve, the passage of time, or both, the deepest, darkest bruises on his body visibly shrank and paled. Most of the soreness that wasn't too deep under his skin – including most of the sensitive muscles on his back and belly that had received so much of the beating – started to feel better. He wasn't fully recovered by any stretch, but Marek could tell that he was on the right path.

His day kept on improving from there. The cartridge's magical protection held steady, even as his mind kept turning back to his last visit with Tichy. For once he had gotten off easy, but it was obvious that Tichy wasn't happy and hadn't let him off the hook willingly. Given his condition and the note from the nurse, the man literally couldn't do what he wanted to do to punish the boy, so he had simply let him go. But Marek knew he would pay for that eventually, probably with interest.

The other boys continued to leave him alone, which helped. It was nice to know — in the post-Tichy sense of the term "nice" — that he was not at any minute going to be jumped from a doorway and pummeled nearly to death with a blanket pulled over his head. Thanks to the cartridge around his neck, that fear had abated to the point of not even making the boy's list of things to dread. There already were so many other entries on the list that there simply wasn't enough room for any others.

Marek thought things were going a bit better for him, but words like "better" also had both a pre-Tichy and a post-Tichy definition in his mind. Things were going better now from the very shitty state that the boy had found himself in just after 10 o'clock this morning. They were not going well, fine, or even okay from a pre-Tichy, pre-PISKG perspective. Just … better than they had been earlier in the day.

And then came the matter of Tomáš, whom Marek knew mostly as Tichy Boy Number Four, appearing in his dorm room just shy of bedtime, walking in stiffly and not looking at all happy. Marek sat up apprehensively as Tomáš entered the room without even knocking.

"You – ginger pig, scram," the older boy said to Radek. "Go take a shit or something," he snapped and Radek was out of the room so fast he nearly tripped over the threshold. The door closed behind him and the two Tichy Boys suddenly were alone. Tomáš glared at Marek.

"Dude, pissing Him off when you're not in a shape to be punished is bad fucking form," he said to the younger boy. "Because obviously, Him being Him, he takes it out on someone else. Someone who didn't deserve it and who is really fucking sore right now," he grumbled. He fumbled in his pocket and extracted what looked to Marek like a postcard.

"According to Him, we're not supposed to use these on you for two more weeks," continued Tomáš, "so I could get in huge trouble for this. So, for the record, I'm not even saying you have to suck me off, but maybe you should think about the way you want your 'big brothers' to feel about you," he smirked as he showed Marek a printed, decorated card with a calligraphic "C" on it and a small check box centered underneath the letter.

Marek was bewildered as Tomáš spoke. He understood only about half of the boy's words. He certainly got the part about Tichy being in a bad mood. But what about the card? What two weeks? And Tomáš wanted a blowjob? Here? In his dorm room?

"Two weeks or not, I want you to suck me off," continued Tomáš. "And to make up for getting me in trouble, you're going to pretend I didn't cum when I do and keep going until I cum again. I'm fucking horny and I want a double. Then you cross the card off, and we're done, and nobody has to know anything about it, especially a certain someone whose name I won't mention. I'm not going to turn the card in right away, just so you know. I'll wait the full two weeks. Any questions?"

"What's it for?" Marek asked, his eyes still studying the card. Tichy hadn't given him one of these when he joined the ranks. It looked very official, with its ornate "C" in the middle.

"What?" asked Tomáš with a surprised look. "You don't know how these work? Dude, it's a Cum Card. We call them 'C Cards.' Tichy gives them out when he's in a good mood. He actually gets them printed somewhere – not that anyone's going to try to make one themselves. It gives you permission to cum once. We can demand it of whoever ranks below us in the TA or beg those above. So, when Jakub gets one, he has to do a lot of begging, even just for a handjob," he snorted. "We make him entertain us to earn it. I guess you will end up like that now, too, once you're out of trouble and actually earn your first one. But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

"Basically, you get the card as a reward from Tichy if you do something he likes and he's in a good mood," Tomáš continued. "The card gives you permission to cum exactly once, but you can't wank. You need to get one of us to do it for you – you know, like comrades. Whoever gets you off writes their number on it in Roman numerals, and that's the end of it. It's like punching a bus ticket. Single use, gone. Only Tichy gives them out. You can swap them or gift them to each other, but I don't remember that ever happening. They're too rare, so it's hard to trade in a favor big enough to get one.

"I'm not even supposed to be here right now," the older boy continued, "and giving me a double is technically cheating, but no one has to know about any of that – especially a certain person we all know – and I'll be a whole lot less mad at you afterwards, right? So, what do you say?"

Marek's eyes barely left the card as the boy went through his explanation. What was Tichy's obsession with wanking? Why was he so concerned about "his" boys doing it? He didn't seem to care if Radek or any of the other kids at the school did it. Marek had seen other boys heading into the stalls and staying there for a long time without any sounds of shitting other than a few moans. Marek had done it, too, but now he was prohibited. It made no sense at all that the entire fucking rest of the school could wank until their dicks fell off but anyone Tichy was dealing with had to refrain. What was up with that? Was the man really that clueless as to think that everyone wasn't doing it all the time?

Marek could use a wank, and now that his body was feeling better, he thought he could use one just about right now. Maybe two — back-to-backers, as he liked to think of them, while Tomáš apparently called them doubles. He'd needed one from before the blanket beating but even with all his injuries, he'd still been waking up with an erection every day. But he had not dared do it. Somehow, some way, he was convinced that Tichy would know if he did, and the punishment the man exacted for it would be too terrible to bear.

"Wait, so I don't get a card?" he asked Tomáš. "And am I supposed to do it … here? I mean, there's no way to lock the door if my roommate comes back."

"Only Tichy gives out the cards, and I don't give a shit about your roommate," snorted Tomáš. "I don't think fatso will dare try to come back in here. And if he does, I'll tell him to fuck right off again. It's not such a great secret anyway, is it? I bet he saw you come back last night, and he'd be an idiot not to realize you'd been fucked, man." He paused before continuing.

"So, what do you say, Number Seven? I'm not even supposed to come to you for another two weeks, but I'm telling you openly that I'm pissed off with you for aggravating Him, and I'm giving you a chance to appease me. What the old man doesn't know won't hurt him."

Marek's eyes finally left the card as he gazed at the door. Anyone could come in during the period before lights out. Like Tomáš himself they didn't even knock half the time. Maybe Radek would be smart enough to keep them out, but what if he didn't? Tomáš might not care if the other kids saw him getting sucked off by a boy, but Marek did not want to be that boy. And this was Marek's hall, with his classmates. Even Tichy's cartridge might not be enough to stop them from beating the snot out of him if they saw him blowing an older boy like a born homosexual.

But what choice did he have? Tomáš was asking, yes. He was even begging a little bit. But there was a clear threat behind his words. Measured against that was the knowledge that in a little more than two weeks the entire school would be on break, and Marek would never see Tomáš or any of these boys again. Or Tichy, or Drábek, or Skala. The thought very nearly brought a smile to his face — and it would have, too, if thoughts of a certain number of cane strokes he was due to receive hadn't made it into his brain directly on the heels of the earlier thought.

"I don't think my roommate knows anything," said Marek, albeit a bit uncertainly. "And why two weeks?

"I don't know why two weeks," said Tomáš. "No one else ever got a protective period. I guess Tichy has a special spot for you in his heart," said Tomáš sarcastically. "Fuck knows. Maybe because you're so sore? Beats me. I don't care what the reason is. Your mouth worked fine last night. If we keep it a secret, nobody gets in trouble, right?"

Marek pondered the older boy's proposal. It seemed risky and dangerous to him, but then again, he knew he didn't have a clear understanding of how the rules for Tichy's Army worked. He didn't want to get off to a bad start with Tomáš or any of the other boys.

"If you really want me to, I'll do it," replied Marek. "Just … not here? Please?"

"If not here, where?" answered Tomáš in an exasperated tone. "Look, I'm sore, too, and I'm not walking anywhere," he pouted. "I suppose we could go to my room. I share with Filip and he already knows you're a slut. He could even watch the door for us. But you'll be off your floor after curfew, risking even more trouble with Tichy that way, you suicidal maniac," snorted Tomáš. "And you'd probably end up sucking Filip off, too. Is that really what you want to do?"

Marek rolled his eyes. The older boy was wearing him down with his reasoning. Maybe Radek for once would be smart enough to mind his own fucking business, stay out of the room, and keep his mouth shut not only with the other boys but also with Tichy. Marek would have to take that chance.

"Okay," he told the older boy. "I'll do it."

This was incredibly awkward for Marek. Sucking Tichy was one thing — the man simply told him to, and the boy did it. There was no choice in the matter, and there hadn't been any during his initiation rite, either. But Tomáš was just a boy himself, and he was asking Marek to blow him the same way he might ask to borrow a book to read. The casual nature of it just felt more wrong – even more blatantly homosexual than the other acts if that were possible.

"How do you want to do it?" Marek asked nervously. "And what did Tichy do to you because of me, anyway?" he added, with morbid curiosity.

Tomáš hurriedly pulled his trousers down. He had no underwear on, and his musky teen erection just bobbed right out. His action answered both of Marek's questions. Tomáš obviously had been beaten on his thighs with a thin, light cane, and when he turned around to show the younger boy, his butt and the backs of his thighs were striped the same way.

Marek gaped at the boy's wounds. Marek knew the kind of thin, whippy cane that would give those marks, and he knew who had given them to Tomáš. It must have stung like hell. No wonder the older boy wasn't wearing any underwear. Had that happened because of him? Marek almost wanted to cry, not because he felt all that terrible for Tomáš, but because the knowledge that Tichy was taking his anger out on other boys until Marek himself was fit enough to be caned made him feel sick with worry.

Tomáš sat down on the bed and motioned for Marek to get down on his knees in front of him.

"Be nice. No teeth. I know you're good at this, so don't pretend otherwise," warned Tomáš.

With a sinking feeling and a terrible pit in his stomach, Marek knelt and quickly took Tomáš's cock in his mouth. He began to fellate the older boy, working quickly to get him off. His jaw was sore, but Tomáš only had an average teen-sized cock, and it was not difficult for Marek to give the boy the pleasure he had come looking for even if he was more acutely aware of the still unwashed state and pungent taste of it than he had been the previous night. And, of course, there would be no teeth involved. Did Tomáš think he had a death wish? Teeth and blowjobs were not a good combination; Marek had known that right from the start with Tichy.

"Hey, slow down a little," grumbled Tomáš as Marek sucked with abandon. "I didn't get to enjoy stuff as much yesterday. Everything was a bit rushed for me." He grunted with pleasure. "Mmmmmm. Nice. Eyes. Come on, Number Seven. I've seen you do it better than this," he reminded Marek.

Marek admittedly had been sucking Tomáš fast, trying to get him off quickly and be done with it, but at the boy's instruction he slowed down his bobbing and gave Tomáš's cockhead some additional tongue. He found himself praying that Radek would not re-enter to the room to find him kneeling on the floor giving head to another boy.

"Mmmmmm," said Tomáš with renewed enthusiasm. "Ohhhhh, that feels nice." He was trying to stay quiet but couldn't quite stop breathing quite hard and hissing in through his teeth. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah, just like that," he sighed. "That'll definitely help with the pain," he chuckled. "Give me some eyes."

Tomáš's cock twitched in Marek's mouth as the younger boy pleasured him. One of the advantages of not jerking off was that cumming was very easy when one got the chance. Tichy's boys were always very horny, and very trigger happy – just the way the man wanted them.

This whole thing felt very wrong to Marek, and he didn't like it. And "eyes," too? Tomáš wasn't getting eyes. That was a Tichy thing, for humiliation and embarrassment, so Marek would always know who he was sucking and who was making him suck. Tomáš was not in that category, and Marek shook his head angrily, refusing to look up at the boy. As a form of rebellion, he even started bobbing a little faster and using less tongue.

Tomáš made a face when Marek refused to look up, but he didn't press the issue. He wanted Marek to see the smile on his face and perhaps remember it later, but no matter. He'd see it soon enough – of that, Tomáš was sure. Those cards had been dealt the moment Marek had agreed to suck him off. The kid was such a slut. Such a loser. This entire ploy had been almost too easy to pull off. The younger boy was as dumb as he was doomed.

In the end, Marek gave Tomáš a decent blowjob. To his dismay, he'd become rather skilled at it, but he supposed that Tichy's other boys had, too, and that gave him some small comfort.

Tomáš didn't last long after Marek sped up again and he soon came, trying to suppress the grunt as he sent his jizz spurting into Marek's mouth. Even before his orgasm finished, he wondered if Marek would suck him a second time. Would the Hurta kid be that stupid? There was no sign of fatso, or anyone else for that matter, so Tomáš was hopeful that Marek would comply.

Marek grimaced with the taste as the older boy filled his mouth with cum. As many times as he had now tasted the warm, bitter liquid, he still found it gross. He was not about to show it to Tomáš, either so he simply swallowed it down in two unhappy gulps. The teen wasn't that much older than Marek, but he made a lot of cum – not quite Tichy-like, but impressive, nonetheless. Marek's own orgasms were of the usual 12-year-old variety: about half a teaspoon of thin, watery cum fired in one or two spurts on his tummy. Except, of course, the time he had cum during the night in Tichy's panties, when there had been enough liquid to make it look like he'd had a pee accident. Marek just couldn't fucking win, at least not with Tichy. Not ever, it seemed – and here he was, tempting fate with the man once again. Thank goodness Tomáš had even more incentive to keep his mouth shut than he did.

For now, Marek kept his mouth motionless on the boy's cock, fully intending to suck him off a second time, but knowing full well how sensitive his own cockhead got right after he came. After about 30 seconds of waiting, he again applied his tongue and began bobbing his head on Tomáš's semi-erection. While he was willing to give Tomáš a second suck, Marek wasn't sure he would be brave enough to try this little trick on his own. With his luck, Tichy would find out, and he'd be caned. Probably 117 times, or 212, or whatever random number popped into Tichy's head at the time. No, Tomáš was much braver than Marek was to risk it. If the shoe had been on the other foot, the younger boy wouldn't have dared, but then again that probably was because he was the lowest kind of wimp there ever was.

Tomáš looked worried when Marek paused, before smiling like a little kid's painting of the sun as Marek started sucking again. He had lasted only some three or four minutes the first time, but he knew he would be good for longer the second time around, and as the blowjob continued, indeed he was. Marek sucked him for a solid 10 minutes and he still wasn't anywhere close to coming. What a little whore the Hurta kid was. It was priceless!

Marek knew that leaving the older boy with blue balls would undo any goodwiil he had earned, but he wished Tomáš would get it over with and cum. He was twitching in Marek's mouth, making pleasured sounds, clearly having a good time, but even ten solid minutes into the blowjob he hadn't cum, and he didn't seem to be very close, either. How much longer would Radek just wait patiently outside in the hall? It was now, after all, officially after curfew, and not too long from lights-out. Tichy could even walk in on them while performing his evening rounds of the dorm. That would be nothing short of a disaster. Possibly a fatal one. Tichy might kill them both in cold blood for so flagrantly violating his rules.

"Mmmmmm, that feels good, Hurta," encouraged Tomáš. "Keep doing it like that, you little slut. What would Tichy think if he could see you now?"

Marek didn't want to think about Tichy, and as the second blowjob dragged on, the boy found himself growing more and more worried and frustrated. Marek could often do a double wank in the span of about five minutes, and he was a year younger than Tomáš. Didn't the kid realize the peril they were in? Radek could burst in at any second, as could any number of other boys. Or Tichy himself. Marek wouldn't want to be Tomáš and have to make the "it never left his mouth, so it still counts as one" excuse to the man. Marek didn't think Tichy would buy that for a second, and Tomáš would then be well and truly fucked — certainly figuratively, and probably literally, too. The kid wasn't even supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to be demanding blowjobs from Marek for another two weeks.

Marek used all his best oral tricks to get the boy to finish, and as he did so, he thought about an endless parade of older, cartridge-wearing boys visiting him for a nightly suck. What crazy club had he become a part of? He still wasn't sure how everything worked, but it appeared that any of the older boys could require a younger boy to service him. That meant Marek was at the bottom, obviously, but would all the older boys start to use him or stay with the boys they already knew? It made sense that Tomáš was using him because he wasn't all that much older. But what about Jan and that other kid, the fourth-year? Would they have much use for a 12-year-old first-year boy, or would they prefer more experience? Marek didn't know. Thankfully, the two-week grace period meant he didn't really have to worry about any of that nonsense as he would be away from this crazy place and safely back home in Vacenovice before they would have any real chane to order him to.

Eventually, Marek turned his full attention back to Tomáš. He needed to get the older boy to cum, but what was it going to take? Marek sucked and swirled, bobbed his head, and did his very best, but he was getting to the point where he was going to end it whether Tomáš got mad at him, or not. It was simply too risky to continue for much longer. Coming here had been brazen enough as it was. Finish up, Marek thought to himself, as he willed the older boy to reach his second orgasm.

The atmosphere in the room briefly got tense – Tomáš could sense Marek's impatience and it wasn't exactly helping – but Marek was doing all the right things with his mouth and after a quick, somewhat surprising build-up towards a second orgasm, Tomáš grunted, more loudly and openly, and called it this time.

"I'm cumming," he said immediately before he sent his second batch of semen into the younger boy's frantically sucking mouth.

To his immense relief, Marek finally tasted the boy's bitter cum for the second time that evening and the third time in less than twenty four hours. He quickly swallowed it down. He sucked for another couple of seconds to see if the boy had any more spurts to give, but Tomáš obviously was spent. Marek pulled off, and immediately stood and went to the door, holding the knob tight in his hand just in case Radek tried to return as the older boy got dressed.

Tomáš had his trousers up in no time, and when he finished zipping up, he presented his card to Marek.

"Look, you can cross out the C and put your Roman numeral underneath it if you want," he said, "or you can do me a huge favor and just forget I was ever here. I obviously can't turn in the card for two weeks, anyway, so what do you say we just forget all about this and you can pretend you never even saw me? Seems like the least you can do under the circumstances."

Marek rolled his eyes again as Tomáš asked for yet another favor. He just wanted the older boy to leave before someone else tried to enter the room.

"I don't care about the stupid card, but what about Radek?" said Marek. "He saw you here. He could rat us out to Tichy in 10 seconds."

"Fatso won't say a word, I promise," said Tomáš dismissively as he stuffed the cum card back in his pocket. "What about you? You know you're supposed to report me to Tichy for this. I've already broken about a dozen rules just by being here."

"Whatever," said Marek dismissively. "I know you won't say anything, and neither will I."

"What the big guy doesn't know, won't hurt him – or us!" said Tomáš with a laugh. "By the way, if anyone ever tells you not to cross out the card, or to use a pencil or something like that, you're supposed to report it to Tichy right away or you'll both end up paying dearly for it," warned Tomáš – as if he hadn't just asked Marek to do exactly that. "And I mean really paying for it. You know how he gets about cumming without permission."

"Anyway – thanks," said Tomáš before Marek even could reply. "Feeling much better, now," he said with a wink and an odd little chuckle as he slipped from the room.

Out in the hall, Radek saw him go. Marek's roommate very sensibly had decided to stay out of the way until the coast was clear and he was hiding in the bathroom with the door cracked open a bit so that he could peek out and keep an eye on his room. He watched as Tomáš proceeded down the hall toward the far stairwell that led downstairs. Despite the late hour and the fact that they were way past curfew, Tomáš clearly wasn't going upstairs to his room, at least not right away. This was all very interesting, and Radek certainly was curious, but he told himself he hadn't seen anything that required him to report to Tichy. Snitching on Marek was one thing but ratting out one of the other Tichy Boys was a very dangerous thing to do. He decided silence was the least risky option. Now that he was sure Tomáš was gone, he returned to the room he shared with Marek and pretended as if nothing were amiss.

"Good night," Radek said as he slipped into the upper bunk, grabbed his book, and pretended to read. He acted exactly as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, which was his way of telling Marek that everything was fine and that his roommate had nothing to worry about from him. This time, at least, that was true.

"Good night," answered Marek as he breathed a sigh of relief at Radek's demeanor. The visit from Tomáš still had him feeling nervous and unsettled. So many things could have gone wrong, starting with an unannounced visit from just about anyone, including Mr. Tichy. It had been a crazy risk for Tomáš to come to him like that. Marek certainly knew what being horny felt like, but Tomáš must have been especially desperate to risk Tichy's wrath.

As he lay in bed, Marek replayed the events of the last 24 hours in his mind. His new "club" was still very much a mystery to him, what with its powerful cartridge necklaces, its crazy and exhausting initiation rituals, and its special rules against doing what Marek was still certain all the other boys at the school did on a near-daily basis. The C card system was yet another bizarre thing.

It was all crazy, crazy, crazy, and as the boy sat down on his bed, he realized how much he couldn't wait to be done with it all. Not even three weeks now, and he would be home – permanently home and finished with this crazy, sadistic place. Back in Vacenovice, he had friends. There, people actually liked him. They didn't care what his last name was, and he didn't have the legacy of some stupid, old glass factory and its Nazi past hanging over his head like a guillotine blade.

The fact that his mother had not yet written him back troubled him. He had specifically asked her to, and she had to anyway because she had to send him his train ticket. He'd never bought a train ticket by himself, and even if he knew how, he didn't think he had enough money for it. That had been the arrangement, anyway. She would send him his return ticket before the end of the term. It was now getting worryingly close to that point, but still no ticket.

Anyway, he had to get a good night's sleep tonight, so he checked his alarm, stepped into his last remaining pair of semi-clean pajamas, and climbed into bed.

"Night," he called to Radek once again. He still didn't like the kid very much, but aside from Taus, the redhead probably was closer to being a friend than anyone else in the school. It was something.

Marek slept right through, in a long, deep, uninterrupted sleep that was sure to help his energy levels. In the morning, Radek dutifully shook him awake and made sure he didn't miss breakfast again. By the time he climbed out of bed, Marek had finally stopped looking like a caricature of a fauvist painting. He still had bruises and parts of his body still ached, but the blacks and purples were mostly gone. There were reddish streaks as well as greenish and yellowy patches, but large swatches of skin had faded back to a normal tone. The bruises that weren't too deep – the ones without too much displaced blood in the tissue that still needed reabsorbing and healing – were fading away to nothing.

It was largely an uneventful day except for the awkward time during which he had to report to the nurse to confirm he was skipping gym. He didn't want to, and he knew he would be made to pay for that later, but the nurse's orders were clear. Tichy avoided him, and so did most other boys.

There was only one small incident that caused him concern. When he returned to his room after class, someone – and it was not at all obvious who – had hidden a little cartoon on a piece of notepaper under his pillow. It was a crude drawing of a small boy on all fours with an oversized AK47 cartridge sticking out of his butt. It was a boy being fucked by a cartridge, if you excused the poor execution of the drawing. But there was no message attached or a messenger to shoot, and the four o'clock hour was approaching too rapidly for Marek to worry too much about it.

As the witching hour drew near, Marek could feel the pit forming again in his stomach. It was always there when it was time to visit Tichy; he felt it whenever he thought about the man, which was often. Tichy had come to dominate nearly every second of Marek's life. When he wasn't actually with Tichy, he was thinking about him. When he wasn't thinking about him, he was worrying about him. When he wasn't worrying about him, he was having nightmares about him. Barely an hour went by during the day in which the boy did not find his thoughts inevitably, inexorably, returning to Tichy. It didn't help that he could see the man in his mind even more clearly than he could visualize his own mother. It also didn't help that when he thought of Tichy, he was not just seeing the man, but smelling his scent, and even tasting him in his mouth. Tichy's cock had a particular taste, as did his cum, as did his ass, as did his …

Marek shuddered as he forced himself to think about something else. Just about anything else would make for a better thought, like perhaps having his teeth drilled, or breaking his arm, or maybe drowning, or falling into a fire, or starving to death. He forced himself to think of home. Of his friends. Of his cousins. It helped a little. Not much, but a little.

At the appointed hour, he left his room, walked dejectedly to the administration wing, and trudged reluctantly up the stairs to Tichy's office. As he paused before the man's door he said the same silent prayer that he nearly always made before he knocked. Please let everything go well today. Please let me survive this. And with that, the child gave his customary two little knocks on the wooden door frame and awaited permission to enter.

There was a longer pause than usual, and this time, the key clicked in the lock first before the door was opened a crack. Tichy's arm suddenly reached out and pulled Marek inside. The man then closed and re-locked the door behind him.

The office smelled musky, and of recent sex. And sure enough, there were two naked boys — whom Marek would recognize soon enough as Jakub and Filip — down on the floor on all fours, and both, upon closer examination, had been recently fucked. Tichy tugged at Marek's shirt.

"Go on, strip, and quickly. You know the drill. Then crawl over there and clean them up. Suck out every last drop," emphasized Tichy in case Marek didn't clearly understand what kind of a cleanup was being demanded of him.

Marek barely had time to process what had happened. Between the suddenness of being pulled into the office and the sight that awaited him, the boy turned pale. Even as he tried to make sense of the two naked boys on Tichy's carpet, he instinctively began undressing in response to the man's command. But what did Tichy want him to do? Suck the boys off? Suck out every last drop? Both of them? Marek was so tired of giving blowjobs. How was he to suck them off if they were on their hands and knees?

As he finished undressing, Marek's 12-year-old mind still didn't understand what was being demanded of him. He dropped to his own hands and knees and began to crawl toward the other boys. He crawled to Filip's side, then looked up at Tichy, as if to ask the man how he could possibly suck the boy off from this position. But he knew he would have to try.

Tichy wasn't sure if Marek was too shocked to obey or really that thick, but whatever it was he rectified the problem immediately by striding purposefully to the boy, grasping his neck and jaw roughly in both hands, and dragging the kid by his head across the carpeted floor toward Jakub. He stuffed Marek's face between the older boy's slick, messy butt cheeks, then rubbed Marek's mouth roughly several times over the leaking, slightly sore-looking puckered hole.

Marek cringed in fear as the man approached him, his body leaning away, his arm lifted half-heartedly as if to protect himself. What had he done now? Tichy looked furious as he grabbed the boy, manhandled him into position, and pushed his face straight against the older boy's ass.

"Clean up, wimp," ordered Tichy. "Thoroughly."

And there was that dreaded word. "Wimp." Right in front of other boys. The slack that Mr. Tichy had cut to him yesterday clearly was only temporary. The boy was back to being the lowest of the low. Marek was despondent. He also had his face between Jakub's butt cheeks.

Tichy had spoken the truth before; he was going to make Marek regret he wasn't in the shape for the severe caning he had earned. He crammed the kid's face in Jakub's ass one last time, then sat down in his chair, sideways, slightly behind the bottoms of the two boys so he would have a nice view of Marek performing his assigned task. He lit up a Startka. This was going to be good.

"Blech," gasped Marek as he pulled his head back and wiped at the slime from his face with his hand. With terrible, dismal, sinking feeling, he now realized what the man wanted him to do. The boy's face registered his disgust and horror. He looked up at Tichy as the man sat down and casually lit up a smoke. Marek's heart rate quickly elevated to heart-attack levels.

"Get busy, wimp!" commanded Tichy ominously, as he watched Marek still not obeying. The Hurta kid was starting to piss him off all over again, and even a note from the nurse wasn't going to save him from a caning he would regret if he kept this up.

Marek couldn't do it. He just couldn't. It was too disgusting. He prayed that Tichy was just taunting him, but even as he did so, he already knew the truth. He closed his eyes for a moment as his tummy clenched and his body seemed to seize up. The scent of Jakub's fucked ass was in his nostrils. Marek was scared to death, and had he been given the choice of death right there he would have taken it.

But Tichy wasn't offering death, he was demanding performance, and he had the cane.

This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. It was sick. It was disgusting.

"Please Mr. Tichy," the boy begged. "It's g-gross," he said, as his face turned grayish-green and his stomach clenched.

But even before the man reacted, Marek knew he already was fucked from the wide-eyed, sideways glance that Filip gave him while looking back over his shoulder. The older boy looked incredulous. Filip's expression told Marek all he needed to know about his chances of survival.

"Yes, it is," Tichy agreed. "Very. You should know all about that by now, as you've sucked cocks right after they've been in your ass. Now you're going to lap up the mess and make sure those sphincters and ass cracks are clean as a whistle both inside and out. No arguments, no backtalk. Just do it, Hurta," demanded Tichy in an ominous tone.

"You need to learn that I don't take repeat offences lightly," the man continued. "You skipped a meal after you'd already been punished for skipping meals, and you skipped classes after being explicitly, directly, and emphatically told not to. You're not doing this for fun but as a punishment – as one of your several wimp punishments, to be more precise," said Tichy, with acid dripping from his words.

Tichy held his cigarette with his left hand and picked up a three-foot long, finger-thick cane and rapped it against the desk. He did this just once, but the message was clear. Bruises or not, nurse's note or not, Marek already was pushing his luck today.

The presence of the other boys just made Marek's shame and humiliation worse. Sucking Tichy's cum from their asses seemed to the boy as vile an act as could be imagined, save for the other, even more cruel, and vile act that Tichy had already made him perform – but at least that had been done in private. This was the price of the man's protection? This was the cost? A never-ending spiral of punishments heaped on punishments, just like with the cheat sheet? It didn't matter that he was now in Tichy's army. The man was not going to treat him any differently. It was all just a game to Tichy. He had called Marek "son" and given him a hug, but he wasn't going to be any nicer to the boy. He hated Marek, and that was never, ever going to change.

Marek's situation had gotten worse, not better. By coming to the man for help, Marek had simply offered himself up to be abused and humiliated every day. Every single day! The other boys wouldn't beat him up anymore, but Tichy would do even worse things to him. Now, the Tichy Boys were involved, too. They could come to Marek and use him for sex, just like Tomáš had last night.

He wouldn't fucking do it! Not this shit! Not anymore. Feeling faint and sick to his stomach, the boy stood up.

"I'm not doing this anymore," he said in a tight, distressed, near-tears voice as he stared at Tichy. The deal was off! Tichy could have him beat up again. He could even have him killed. But Marek was done with this. With all of it!

Mustering every last bit of courage he possessed, Marek turned his back to the man and began to walk calmly back in the direction of his clothes. His heart was racing. He forced himself to walk normally, but he wasn't stupid. Even as he took his first steps, he knew that he was doomed.

It took Tichy a fraction of a second to digest what had just occurred. It seemed like the Hurta boy was intent on suicide, and while that surprised him, it didn't deter him for an instant. As Marek walked away, Tichy moved like the athlete he was. Even with a split-second delay to grab a coil of skipping rope from his desk he was on the boy before Marek even reached his clothes. He easily tackled the small boy down to the floor and began to tie one of his slender wrists behind his back.

Marek heard the man's footfalls behind him, but he didn't so much as turn to look even as his eyes welled with tears at the holocaust that was sure to come. With a grunt and a cry Marek was taken to the floor. He continued reaching for his clothes like a drowning man reaching for a lifeboat even as Tichy began to secure him with the rope. A high-pitched, keening whimper of terror came from the boy as more tears formed in his eyes, blurring his vision.

"Nooooo," he whimpered to no one in particular. "Let me goooo, let me gooooo, let me gooooo," he sobbed, still reaching for his clothes with his free arm until it, too, was pulled behind his back and tightly secured.

"Filip, socks," Tichy grunted and moments later, he took the ball of smelly socks from the older boy and force-fed it to Marek. The socks filled the boy's mouth, stinky and disgusting, cutting off his words. The boy moaned in misery, his body shaking now and covered in goosepimples of fear.

"You guys clean yourselves up and get over here," said Tichy to Filip and Jakub. "I'm going to need you for the next bit."

Tichy hauled Marek up from the floor and carried the boy back toward his desk before forcing him into an upright kneeling position on the floor. Marek bucked and writhed as he was lifted. The youngster struggled for all he was worth. He didn't care if the man dropped him, but the 12-year-old was no match for a grown man. With the older boys now helping by holding him in place, Tichy used more rope to secure the sock gag in Marek's mouth. A broom appeared and Marek felt his legs being lifted up one at a time as it was placed underneath his ankles. Tichy tied the boy's ankles to the broom handle, then secured his already bound wrists to the center of broom handle between his feet. This left Marek in a forced, stiff, kneeling position, his knees wide apart, and his arms bound behind him.

Marek continued to shake like a washing machine on spin cycle as he was tightly affixed to the broom. He didn't know its purpose, but that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. The boy already knew that Tichy was going to torture him; he just didn't know exactly how. Now he found himself on his knees, bound with his arms behind him and legs spread. His position was awkward, with his hips and pelvis thrust out and his shoulders and chest pulled back and down by his arms.

The older boys held him in place as he continued to twist and writhe. Marek was moaning in total fear. From underneath his gag, he began screaming for his mother to come to him, to help him, but his words came out only as muffled moans and he knew she couldn't hear him. Nobody could hear him. Nobody would help him. Nobody would come. Nobody ever came. He was alone in this hellhole of a school where nobody cared about him or protected him. He would have to face this alone and he was scared to death at the prospect.

"Now hold him very tight, so he doesn't wiggle," demanded Tichy as he snapped on a latex glove, and opened a flat, bright red capsule of a very pungent cream. It was an original, extra-strength tiger balm from China, full of camphor, mint oil, cinnamon and chilly oil, ginger extract, and other ingredients.

Marek could see through his tears as Tichy produced yet another can of something. The man had so many things like that: lotions, creams, balms, and ointments. Marek knew this one would be bad, whatever it was. It had a nasty, powerful scent, and it obviously wasn't the same stuff that the man had applied to his bruises. The boy struggled, his chest heaving, as he hyperventilated for air through his nose. Each breath was punctuated by animalistic grunts of fear, and additional frantic struggles from the captive boy. Nothing worked to free him. He was tightly secured and tightly held.

Tichy proceeded to coat Marek's cock and balls with the stuff, especially his glans and piss slit. He picked up a cotton swab and coated it with the cream before grasping the boy's shriveled penis and screwed it most of the way down Marek's urethra. He left the swab in the boy's piss slit, then dipped his finger in cream and shoved it up Marek's butt from below, briefly massaging it into the boy's sphincter.

"All right, boys, you can let go now," said Tichy. "Get dressed. Come watch, as this will be a valuable lesson for both of you. Nobody is 'out,'" he said ominously, "and nobody but fucking nobody refuses a direct order and tries to walk out on me."

"Ah," Tichy smiled as Marek's eyes teared up and began to widen in shock, "it's kicking in."

And indeed, it was. The pain started almost immediately. It was not just bad. It didn't just hurt. Marek's eyes went wider than they had ever gone before as the enormity of the pain set in. The burning, fiery mixture coating his most sensitive spots put the ginger root to shame about tenfold. This balm was much stronger and more concentrated, and far more immediate with its burning, searing pain. The fact that his ass felt like it was impaled on a red-hot poker was still the lesser of Marek's worries. His urethra was starting to burn, blossoming into a pain beyond any imagination or previous experience.

The boys let his arms go, and for a few seconds, Marek remained kneeling in the same position as he grunted, moaned, and shook in pain. Within a minute or so, the pain reached a point where the boy probably would have opted for a penectomy if he had a knife handy and if his hands weren't so thoroughly tied.

The pain was unbelievable. Marek didn't know the word excruciating, but if he did, he would have thought it totally inadequate to define what he was experiencing. His penis and testicles felt like they were being roasted over a fire. The fire was burning on the outside and the inside at the same time.

With a high-pitched moan of pure agony, Marek writhed and bucked from his kneeling position on the floor. His movements were so frantic that he succeeded in toppling over onto his face and chest, landing hard on the carpet with a grunted exhale. The boy grunted again as he thrust his penis into the carpet, trying to wipe the vile substance off. His body shook as he undulated wildly, but nothing worked.

Tichy watched Marek topple with surprise, as the tautness of the boy's bondage normally made something like that impossible; an adult wouldn't have been able to topple, especially not forward, not even with considerable effort, but clearly Marek was stronger and more flexible than Tichy gave him credit for. It would be easy enough to set him upright once again, but for the moment, Tichy left him where he was, amused to see the boy futilely bucking on the floor as if he were trying to fuck the carpet.

Marek's anus and rectum were on fire, too, burning from the inside. He tried to roll away, to move, but the broomstick securing his ankles prevented it. His head lifted from the carpet. His expression was one of shock and surprise. His head fell back to the carpet and then lifted again as he moaned in pain. A trickle of blood from his left nostril coated his upper lip, caused either by Tichy's tackle or his own recent face plant.

The pain would not go away. It didn't even diminish. It just peaked at a white-hot, irrational level of agony and patiently remained there, burning away. The boy writhed and bucked on the floor as he tried to hump his penis into the carpet. He wished it simply would fall off; he didn't want it anymore. His bound, muscled body writhed and bucked, shimmied, and shook, in an odd, frantic pain dance.

The boy was now drenched in sweat as he suffered in Tichy's always-too-hot office. But that didn't stop the boy's desperate shimmying and bucking as he flopped around on his stomach. With his knees bent and his ankles secured to the broomstick, he couldn't get any purchase on the floor, and all his frenzied bucking came from his upper body. But nothing he did seemed to matter. He writhed and shimmied in a failed effort to stop the pain.

As the pain intensified, Marek began to scream into his gag, over and over, making the same sound, which was incoherent to his observers and probably even to Marek himself. He screamed and screamed and screamed some more as somehow, impossibly, the pain became even worse. He lost control of his bladder then, but the swab in his urethra blocked his urine and sent it rebounding painfully back, apparently taking some of the cream with it. The boy screamed anew as fresh pain appeared somewhere deep inside him, where pain like that just shouldn't be.

Tichy chuckled at the show as the boy pissed himself and gave himself to a whole new level of pain that he hadn't even known existed. The boy's undulations eventually pushed the swab out of his penis and a small trickle of piss ended up on the carpet. Not enough of it passed through Marek's actual urethra to help any with the burning inside it, however; in fact, his piss chute was so irritated that urine made the burning even worse. The swab re-irritated the boy's urethra on its way out, and it was not a nice feeling.

Marek took it back now. All of it. He would do it. He would do anything Tichy wanted. He raised his head off the carpet and screamed to the man, his face red and bulging, his neck corded with effort. He was sorry! He was so very, very sorry! He wanted to tell the man that, but his apologies came not as words, but as muffled screams from his sock-gagged mouth. The man made no move to free him, nor did the older boys. They simply watched as Marek flopped like a fish and suffered red-faced at their feet on the carpeted floor.

The pain Marek felt was incomprehensible. Pain this intense couldn't exist, and yet, it did. Marek raised his head, his body undulating, and slammed it back down to the carpet on the right side of his face. Then he did it again, and a third time. He seemed to be trying to bludgeon himself to death, and maybe he was. Once more he raised his head, and yet again he slammed it to the carpet with all the force he could muster, grunting with the force of the impact.

Nothing worked to alleviate the pain. It was an agony unlike anything the boy had felt before. The pain of this stuff — whatever it was — was worse than a caning by several factors. Marek would gladly have taken all 60 of the cane strokes Tichy had in store for him and then begged the man for more if it would only stop the pain. It was that bad. The smelly, nasty substance that Tichy had applied to his body burned like napalm.

The boy's entire body was shaking spasmodically, almost as if he were undergoing convulsions. He was soaked and shiny with sweat. He raised his head again and slammed it down, then raised it yet again, attempting to beat himself unconscious. His head and neck were the only parts of his body that had any free range of movement, so he had taken advantage of that to try to alleviate the pain. He was almost catatonic with pain, and he was only barely aware that he was screaming virtually non-stop into the gag, the screams pausing only long enough for him to draw in alternating breaths through his nose. To his observers, his screams sounded a little like a high-pitched train-whistle sound, a kind of loud, frantic, harmonic hum as the boy continued to scream repeatedly into his gag.

Tichy didn't allow the head-banging to go on for long. Although Marek wasn't likely to knock himself out on a carpeted floor, especially not when he was just flopping about like a fish out of water, he could give himself carpet burns and bruises on his face, which was the one part of the boy's anatomy where Tichy didn't want to see any injuries. The boy already had a nosebleed, and the way he was going, in short order, his face was going to be an ugly mess.

"Enough of that," Tichy said. "You two, grab him, pull him back up to his knees. Hold him upright. He's not allowed to hurt himself. That's my job," chuckled Tichy and looked at Marek, before crouching down to wipe the boy's face with a tissue.

"It's going to be unpleasant to breathe through your nose now that it's bleeding, even if it's just a small nosebleed, dumbass," he commented calmly to the distraught, bedraggled boy. "And I'm not ungagging you, because we can't have the whole school hearing your screams. I'm sorry to say that you'll be screaming for a while yet. This cream, because it has oils and Vaseline in it, doesn't really wear off. It burns, bright and hot, for hours and hours," he announced coolly.

"And the best thing?" Tichy continued. "You might feel like your cock is melting away right now, but there will be no physical evidence of any of this come tomorrow. Maybe some slight pinkness or redness, but no marks and no bruises. Just a newfound knowledge of what happens to wimps who try to walk out on me," said Tichy as he took a last drag on his Startka before stubbing it out.

Marek's body was slick with sweat as the older boys hauled him back into a kneeling position and Tichy swiped at his nose. He looked like he had just run back-to-back marathons. The boy tried to turn away from his nemesis, his head lolling about as if on a swivel. His eyes were unfocused, red, and wet with tears. He couldn't see. He was unfamiliar with the term "blinding pain" but he was experiencing it in this moment. His screams abated the instant the man spoke to him. Marek's comprehension was still functioning well enough that if the man were stating the terms pursuant to which he would end the boy's agony, he knew he needed to listen.

But the man was not stating terms. He was not offering Marek an out. This time, he merely was explaining that the pain would go on. It would not end. He would not stop it. The man seemed to be reveling in Marek's pain. He was celebrating it.

With an agonized wail into his gag, Marek's head fell, jaw to chest. His entire body was shaking like a leaf as Jakub and Filip held him upright. For a moment, he went still as he silently and resolutely fought the pain, but it was too much, too intense, and he soon began to struggle again. He lifted his head and resumed his screaming. Tichy must help him! He had to make the pain go away! He had to! Marek was sorry! He was so very, very, very sorry! He told the man all of this. He screamed it, even though it still sounded like harmonic train whistles when translated through the sock gag. Marek struggled and pulled and tried to wrench his body side to side. But the older boys continued to hold him in place, upright and on his knees, as the pain washed over him in waves.

Jakub and Filip looked pale and tense as they held the writhing, sweating, suffering boy upright. Neither of them wanted to be there, and they appeared to be almost terrified themselves, either on behalf of Marek, or perhaps just by proxy. Of course, they both knew that the kid was a Hurta, the Glass King's grandson, hated and despised by all, an enemy of the people. They also knew or sensed that Tichy had a special beef with the boy – a personal ax to grind – as his mistreatment of Marek was far beyond anything they had seen before. Whatever he had done, whatever he had said, the kid had managed to make an enemy out of Tichy, and that was not a good place to be. The younger boy supposedly was a huge wimp, as well, but again then, out of blue, he had refused to follow a direct order from Tichy. That was beyond stupidly dangerous. In fact, it seemed close to suicidal, and Tichy's retribution had been swift and fierce as they had known it would be.

But this – the balm-covered swab up the kid's cock, the gloved finger forcing a great dollop of the stuff up his butt – was beyond anything either of them had seen before from Tichy. The older boys knew firsthand how a little bit of this cream felt smeared on their balls, but Marek's punishment was extreme even by the reputed STB agent's standards. The kid was a first-year student, still fairly small of stature and only 12 years old. This would have been a very severe punishment for an adult let alone a kid that young. Tichy was making the boy suffer in absolute agony. It was disturbing to see it. It always was frightening to see what the man was capable of when he was angry,

But neither of the older boys was crazy enough to protest or utter as much as a single syllable on Marek's behalf. Interfering with or objecting to Tichy's punishments simply was not done. Jakub was struggling not to shake in fear. He was gripping onto Marek as much to keep himself from flinching and trembling as to hold the boy in place. Filip was in a state of deep, grim determination. He was pale, his lips a tense line, as he tried to look to Tichy for instructions or cues. He wanted to move up in Tichy's little club, and he sure as fuck didn't want Tichy as his enemy – all the more after seeing this. He avoided gazing down at Marek's tortured, tear-streaked face. He didn't want to witness the younger boy's agony any more than he had to, but if Tichy had commanded him to strangle Marek and grab a shovel to help dispose of the body, he almost certainly would have.

Marek was a bedraggled, sweat-soaked, shaking boy as he struggled in the grip of the older boys and screamed himself hoarse into the gag. He stopped screaming for a moment as he lowered his head to his chest once again, only to lift it and resume screaming only seconds later. Nothing he tried helped him to cope with the pain. Nothing helped to alleviate it. His muscles corded and flexed as he tried to break free from his binds. He still couldn't see much of anything other than blurry colors and shapes. His eyes were bulged, red, and rimmed with tears.

There was no end to the torment or the pain. Marek tried to go still and fight the pain that way. His head slumped to his chest again as he grunted in agony, followed by a series of additional grunts as successive waves of pain just kept coming. His body was on fire, his throat hurt from screaming, and he felt so tired now. A fresh jolt of pain brought his head up again as he struggled once more. More grunts came from him. His head flopped to his chest once again. Nothing, but nothing, had any effect on the pain. It seemed endless, like it was a permanent part of him now. Maybe it was.

Tichy allowed Marek to suffer for what must have seemed to the boy like an eternity. Although only the Hurta kid was being punished, Tichy was aware that the lesson he was imparting to the Glass King's grandson would be well-learned by the other boys present and that news of what had happened soon would spread to every member of his little group. Tichy also knew from a decade of experience at the school that to keep the boys in line and their thoughts in proper perspective, it never hurt to demonstrate what he could do to them. He had never been quite this extreme before, certainly not with a first-year boy and not with his copious internal use of the tiger balm, but Marek had majorly pissed him off with his open defiance, and the stark reality of his specific situation needed to be explained to the 12-year-old in no uncertain terms. Marek "Nazi-Traitor" Hurta had been brought to the school to atone for his ancestry, and no mercy would be given him. The sooner he understood and accepted that fact, the better.

Tichy left Marek to kneel in his agony for a full 25 minutes, opting to conclude things only when it looked like finally all the fight had drained out of the exhausted boy and he was on the cusp of passing out.

"I'll allow you to negotiate this to last less than the full three hours, Hurta," Tichy finally announced. "To start with you need to be able to negotiate, so calm yourself down a bit and nod your head if you're ready for the gag to come out without screaming." He didn't plan to help the boy until after they had a conversation. The man had Marek by the balls, and he was going to have some fun with him.

When Tichy spoke, Marek lifted his head and tried to point his face in the direction that the sound had come from. He went silent, but for some shivery moans, and then nodded frantically at the man's terms. Using all his willpower, still shaking spasmodically, Marek forced himself to remain completely silent as he prayed for the man to make the pain stop.

Tichy untied the rope over the makeshift sock-gag and began to fish the socks out of Marek's mouth.

"One scream, and you'll have permanently lost your one and only chance to cut this short," he warned. "There," he said as he pulled the deepest sock free. Just like that, Marek's mouth was clear so he could at least breathe properly, which Tichy knew might help him to manage the pain.

Marek gasped for air in shivery inhales as soon as the gag came from his mouth. He felt so cold, yet it was always too hot in Tichy's office. He shivered and shook as the older boys continued to hold him, occasional tremors affecting his entire body spasmodically. Somehow, with the gag out, he suddenly was freezing. His skin broke out in goose pimples. He felt extremely cold, like he had just been immersed in a bath of ice water. He continued to shiver uncontrollably, but the only sound he made aside from his panicked breathing was a pitiable moan of pain. He dared not scream. He would not. After the man's warning, he knew he could not.

"I understand Tomáš came to visit you last night, is that correct, Marek?" asked Tichy in an ominous tone.

Marek froze in fear. How did the man know about Tomáš? It wasn't possible. The boy almost couldn't believe it. Fresh tears filled his eyes. Radek had ratted on him again. Marek felt betrayed. Tichy would certainly punish him yet again, but he already had 60 coming with the cane! He also wanted to lie and deny Tomáš's visit, but he knew that would only make things worse. Tichy already knew the truth. Marek wanted to die.

"Yes," the hopeless boy whispered in reply.

"'Yes, sir,' or 'Yes, Comrade Tichy,'" the man reminded him.

"Yes, sir," amended Marek.

"Based on that and your behavior here today, I'm ending your protective two-week period," announced Tichy. "You'll obey your superiors without a fuss, immediately, following my rules in full. Do you understand? Do you accept these terms?"

"Yes, sir," Marek gasped, then added a beleaguered nod.

"You will clean cocks and asses during and after sex, as needed, every time. This is no longer a punishment for you but a permanent part of your role in our little group. You'll do it every time it's called for, never again refusing or disobeying me. You will have ample opportunity to demonstrate your obedience on this issue tomorrow, but for now, do you understand? Do you accept?"

"Yes, sir," Marek immediately gasped as a bead of sweat rolled from his forehead and into his eye. He tried to blink it away as he begged whatever gods there were to end Tichy's slow-paced interrogation and save him from his pain.

Tichy paused and cocked an eyebrow at the tortured boy. Did Marek even realize what he had just agreed to? Tichy knew full that he was prolonging the boy's torment with his questions, but he was having fun with it. The man also knew that Marek would agree to absolutely anything he proposed. The boy obviously just wanted to end his pain.

"The rest of your punishment, every bit of it in the next few days, will be photographed, recorded, and immortalized," continued Tichy. "Do you understand? Do you accept?"

The boy's answer to every question Tichy posed, of course, was yes. Filip and Jakub likely would have fallen over in shock if the traumatized boy had answered so much as a single inquiry in the negative. For his part, Marek never even considered doing so. Each answer came immediately and eagerly on the heels of the question. Tichy could have asked Marek if he would kill his mother in her sleep with a butter knife and he would have agreed to do it. Nothing, but nothing mattered to the boy right now other than alleviating his pain.

In the end, the child gave a series of gasping, tight, two-word responses to every one of the man's questions but they came out so quickly and so pain-filled that the two words effectively had blended into one. "Yessir," the boy gasped to each question, between his hyperventilated, shuddering breaths.

"That-a-boy!" said Tichy in an upbeat tone. "Now listen, Hurta. If you try to run, or tattle, or hide – if you step out of line by even a centimeter — I'll use a longer swab. I'll use more of this stuff. I'll coat a condom with it and fuck you with it. I'll coat you in an extra thick layer of it, and I'll rub it everywhere, even into your eyes, your ears, and up your fucking nostrils, and then I'll tie you up and throw you in a closet and forget all about you for an entire night. I'm not kidding. I know you'll want to panic and do something stupid after this. But … don't. Don't, or you'll wish, from the bottom of your heart, that you had never been born. I'm not kidding, Marek. I swear it," said the man solemnly. "Do you understand?"

The full-body shakes that were racking the boy only increased in frequency as Tichy detailed what would happen to him if he stepped out of line again. Fresh tears flooded Marek's eyes as he nodded his head up and down in understanding. He did understand. Now, he truly, fully, understood. He truly believed with every fiber of his being that Tichy would do it. The man would do what he threatened to do, and he wouldn't even think twice about it.

Marek knew that the man hated him. It wasn't fair, of course, but that didn't matter one iota to the situation the boy found himself in. The origins of Tichy's hatred were irrelevant. All that mattered was that the hatred existed, and because of it, there would be no mercy extended to the boy, and no quarter given. Any hints or suggestions that Tichy previously had given that he would help Marek at the school, or that they would be allies — none of that mattered anymore. That had all been so many lies. The man had laid everything on the table and his terms were unconditional. Theirs was only a one-way relationship now, and the boy fully understood his situation.

The man's detailed warning took so long it was all Marek could do not to interrupt to hurry him along. The boy responded instantly as soon as Tichy finished speaking.

"Yessir," the boy replied in a pain-filled gasp. He just couldn't stop shivering and shaking. He was simply desperate for Mr. Tichy to stop the pain.

"Now this will briefly sting, and feel almost worse, but only very briefly," said Tichy in a softer tone. "It's the only way of making the pain go away before all your nerve endings are totally numb to it, which won't be for hours and hours yet," he explained as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. He soaked a cloth with it and began to clean Marek's cock and balls.

Marek could smell the alcohol even before the man applied it to his body. It felt cool to Marek, before a stinging, burning wave washed over him, but then the pain started to subside rapidly, leaving behind a numbness, almost a deadness to any sensation. Marek didn't care about the sting. All he cared about was making the pain go away which, mercifully, it started to almost immediately after Tichy applied the saturated cloth to his genitals.

The boy continued to shake uncontrollably as the man applied the tissue to the affected parts of his body. Tichy wiped Marek's taint and his butthole, cleaning as much of the tiger balm off as he could. Then he popped a glove on and used an alcohol-soaked wipe to clean Marek's rectum. He couldn't get all of it, and the pain there didn't stop, but it certainly lessened by a whole lot. Then the man very carefully cleaned the boy's cock and the tip of his piss slit.

"If I use an alcohol swab, it'll feel awful for a few minutes, but you'll piss out the rest of the cream much faster then," said Tichy. "Do you want more pain for a bit, or less pain for several hours" he asked the boy pragmatically.

The man's question posed the first conundrum for Marek. More pain now for less later? The relief he felt from the tissue already was significant. Marek nodded unhappily.

"Please … d-do it, sir," he said, in a shivery, sobbing whisper.

"Hold your hand over his mouth," Tichy said to Filip as he dipped a cotton swab in alcohol and gently ran the swap deep into Marek's urethra. The shock of pain that followed made it very difficult for Marek not to scream out loud in violation of his promise. The alcohol-infused swab in the 12-year-old's urethra almost made him pass out. His body shuddered in the grip of the older boys as his eyelids fluttered and his eyeballs rolled up in his head.

Marek didn't scream, but his body shook as his muscles corded and he pulled at his binds. Looking pale and stunned, Filip and Jakub held Marek tightly, preventing the younger boy from toppling over as he shook and strained. Tichy pulled the swab out with a screwing sort of motion that managed to get a lot of the cream out. What was left inside the boy's urethra still burned and it was bound to continue burning, but it was a significant relief, even after a short while. What didn't abate for the boy was the deep, unnatural pain from the bits of the cream that were dislodged and had been pushed farther into his body when he lost control of his bladder

Marek's body slumped in his binds, but then his head snapped up again as the man began to screw the swab out of his body. He emitted a low, long, unnatural moan even as his brain told him not to make a sound. He couldn't help it. But then the swab emerged from his penis and the pain went back to where it had been before, certainly not much worse, and maybe even a little better.

Tichy untied Marek and gave the boy a large glass of water. Still kneeling on the floor Marek drank the water gratefully, tilting his head back, gulping and swallowing even as some of it dribbled down his heaving chest and onto his genitals. He made no effort to move. His pain was better in most places, but the memory of it was still very much present and he still felt it in places that Tichy had been unable to reach with the alcohol.

"Filip, fetch him the bucket so he can piss when he needs to," said Tichy. "Then you two can go. This won't get any more interesting today."

"You," he said to Marek, "you'll kneel in your corner time spot, in your corner-time position until told otherwise," said Tichy. "And you'll think about what you've just agreed to and accepted." Despite the boy's newfound obedience and complacency, Tichy didn't want Marek hurrying out of his office freshly distressed. Forcing the boy to calm down, and forcing the shame and fear to sink in, reduced the risk that the kid would do something idiotic that could be dangerous for his operation. Letting Marek kneel for a while, broken to a new level, humiliated, and still hurting, also served to reinforce Tichy's position of authority.

Without hesitation, but still shaking like a leaf, Marek tried to rise to his feet. He then thought better of it and crawled to the cabinet where he shakily arranged himself in the "corner time" position — knees spread, butt on heels, hand behind his back, and his face and nose leaning on the cabinet with his knees situated about a foot away. Once in position, Marek simply could not stop shivering. He felt cold all over — freezing, in fact — and the full-body quakes continued every few seconds, as well.

Tichy poured himself a vodka and sighed contentedly. The afternoon hadn't gone the way he expected but it had been even more enjoyable nonetheless.

"If you need to piss, use the bucket," he said as he pointed to the plastic bucket that Filip had dropped next to Marek. "Piss as much and as often as you like, but if you manage to hold it a bit and take a longer piss, it will be a lot better for you than pissing several small, separate dribbles," recommended Tichy.

Filip and Jakub left, which, among other things, meant the door to the office now was unlocked. Tichy left it that way, if only because he knew it drove the Hurta kid to distraction. The risk of somebody coming to visit at this time of day was quite low, but Marek didn't need to know that.

Marek didn't respond to the man's offer to piss. He didn't need to right now, and he couldn't even if he had to. He was concentrating fully on staying in position and not moving. He thought of nothing else.

It took some time, but eventually Marek's shivering and body tremors abated, then ended altogether. Some pain remained but it was tolerable and no longer white-hot in its intensity. The boy remained nearly motionless but slowly found himself regretting that in his haste to comply with Tichy's direction, he had positioned his knees a couple of inches further back from the cabinet than usual. This had the effect of increasing the angle of his lean, which in turn put pressure on his back and neck. He dared not move, but every dozen or so seconds he gave a tiny little moan of discomfort that probably was not loud enough for Tichy to hear. Meanwhile, his mind started to wander as he thought about everything that had happened to him, and what his life had now become. It was like a horror show, with only his memories of Vacenovice — so distant, now — providing the boy with the slightest respite and comfort.

Tichy smoked and drank, stealing an occasional look at the thoroughly defeated youngster leaning passively against his cabinet. He left Marek in his position for some twenty minutes, vaguely pondering what he would do if Skala did his usual thing right now, which was to knock but then proceed to walk in without waiting for an answer. It would be a bit dangerous for him to see Marek like that, but also quite exhilarating. Noting of that sort happened though, and so eventually, when he could see that Marek's breathing had calmed down and his shivering had abated, Tichy cleared his throat.

"Lock the door, Hurta, and get over here and suck my cock," he demanded simply. "Crawl nice and low, both ways. I have to say that no one has pissed me off quite this much for quite some time, you little twerp. Trying to … what? Get up and go? In front of two of my other boys? Do you have a death wish, or what?" he asked, scratching his chin.

"I think you've learned your lesson," he sighed, "but now I have to demonstrate that you've learned it to all the others. You've really messed things up; do you understand that, you little fucker?"

Without hesitation, on the man's command, Marek crawled back to the door face down, with his head low to the ground. There was no fight left in the boy. He didn't even so much as think of disobeying nor did an oppositional thought so much as enter his mind. He knelt up to lock the door, his small fingers struggling once again with the indifferent key. All the while, he listened to the man's words of condemnation. He gave no reaction and made no sound, other than a few sniffles as he returned to his hands and knees for the return journey.

Marek's heart rate elevated as he crawled back toward the man. He began to shake once again. His only thought was to give the man the best blowjob he could give even if he choked to death in the effort. He would not give Stanislav Tichy any more reasons to hurt him today, or ever again. He had made that vow to himself. He was tired of being hurt. Since the man already had proven that he could get away with doing absolutely anything to Marek that he chose, what was the point of fighting him?

"Eyes," demanded Tichy as Marek drew near. "And listen carefully to me as you suck."

With growing apprehension, Marek crawled to his familiar spot between the man's legs and reached out with a shaking hand to pull the man's semi-hard penis into his mouth. His eyes went to Tichy's the instant the man commanded it, and this time they didn't play the no-look, no-focus game. The boy stared right at his nemesis with an abject look of horror on his face. He did not dare to oppose the man in even the smallest way now. He would comply with everything that Tichy wanted.

The man waited until Marek was in position before speaking.

"There will be assess fucked tomorrow. You will lick, tongue, and suck on those asses like you were born to do nothing else. You'll also suck, repeatedly, the cocks that will have been up those asses. Is that absolutely, totally crystal clear?" Tichy demanded. He waited for the cocksucking traitor's son to acknowledge him with an abbreviated head nod before continuing.

"If you ever try to undermine me in front of my core crew again, I'll torture you until you're just a broken, mindless piece of panting meat, and then I'll make you eat shit and drink piss until you are opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out like a demented puppy looking for more," warned Tichy.

Marek listened with growing dread as Tichy outlined the consequences of repeating the very poor decision he had made. The boy could tell that Tichy's anger at his behavior had only partially abated, or maybe not at all. It was only as he listened to the man's words that Marek realized what a mistake it had been to defy Tichy in front of the other boys. It was one thing to be defiant when he was alone with the man; it was quite another to show him up in front of his boys.

Marek nodded at the man's words as best he could while holding the man's cock in his mouth, but Tichy wasn't done.

"Don't you ever fuck with me again," the man continued. "You've pushed your luck as far as you can push it here today. But I haven't done my worst. If you fuck up like that again, I'll torture you like an American spy caught by the KGB, do you understand? And I might well just kill you, but if I do, you'll be fucking glad that I'm finally done with you when you draw that last, pained breath. Do you understand?" he demanded darkly.

Marek listened as the man described what would happen to him if he made a mistake like that again. His fear increased with every word Tichy spoke. His shivers quickly returned, followed shortly thereafter by full body tremors.

The youngster cringed like he had been hit when the man asked him if he understood. Marek was just barely able to stop himself — oh, thank god he stopped himself — from biting down on the man's cock in terror. He managed to nod once again, signifying that he understood, which he absolutely did. He well understood that Tichy had seemingly unlimited ways to hurt him, and he absolutely believed that the man would use them. After what had just happened, there was really no question about that anymore. He also believed that the man would kill him, and while he might have welcomed a painless death given how low he felt, Tichy had assured him that his death would be preceded by prolonged torture and mindless pain.

The man watched carefully for signs that his words were sinking in. The boy appeared to be suitably terrified, and his reaction seemed appropriate. Tichy was only partly erect now, and he decided to take advantage of it.

"Drink up, fucker. Show me what you've learned about obedience," he demanded and started to piss in Marek's mouth.

What the man did next surprised Marek, but only for a second or two as he realized there was no limit to Tichy's mistreatment of him. With a wince, he began to swallow the warm, bitter liquid, then paused, and then swallowed some more as he continued to look right at Tichy's cold, blue eyes.

Tichy knew it was virtually impossible for anyone to keep up with a full-paced piss, so he paused the stream after a few seconds, released it, paused it again, and released the rest of it after that. It took a while for the man to empty his entire bladder, but every blessed drop of it went straight down into the boy's roiling, clenching tummy as Marek quivered, and shook, and drank piss on his knees.

"Now suck," commanded Tichy.

Marek transitioned to sucking the man just as soon as Mr. Tichy had finished using the boy like a urinal. The boy tongued, bobbed, and sucked like Tichy had taught him, doing his best to please the man with his mouth as he kept his eyes locked on. He listened carefully to every instruction, going "nice and slow" for the man, using his tongue, opening his throat, and taking five inches every second or third time down.

"Good kurva," [Author's Note: "whore"] said Tichy with a smile as Marek proceeded to suck him off without missing a beat, and never once so much as interrupting the direct and oh-so-sexy eye-contact.

"Hmmm. Yes. Keep it up. Nice and slow today. Nice and slow and deep and don't your eyes as much as flutter in a different direction. You'll suck until I cum and keep it in your mouth to show it off when you're done," said Tichy as he pressed the boy's head deeper onto his now fully-erect shaft.

While his jaw still hurt from the initiation ceremony, Marek was glad to find that his throat did not feel abraded today. Tichy's fully erect cock slid easily inside, and the boy was able to suppress his gag reflex. Five inches, he could do, and the man was not asking him to go any deeper. Marek would, of course, if Tichy commanded it. The only problem was that the vomit bucket still was over by the cabinet where Filip had left it, so there would be a real risk of a disaster if Tichy made him deep-throat. As compliant as the boy's brain wanted to be, his tummy was now full of the man's piss and it would not take much gagging at all for it to empty itself all over the man's carpet, which Marek knew instinctively would not be good for his physical well-being.

Tichy watched the boy, holding the steady, extended eye contact himself, and drinking in the view, even as he ran through an inventory of items he needed for the punishing, humiliating session he had planned for the next day. How many rolls of film did he have? Two black and white, he was pretty sure. Did he have a color roll? He wasn't sure. He would have to go to town anyway because he had some very specific ideas about how tomorrow was going to look and he couldn't quite make them happen with what he had on hand. It was his shopping day to stock up — mostly just on smokes and vodka, of course, as food was provided by the school.

He didn't exactly do it on purpose, but the fact that he let his thoughts wonder as he schemed and plotted meant that despite the incredibly sexy way in which Marek was sucking his cock, Tichy was going to last longer now. But he was in no hurry, nor of course was the boy.

Marek eyes never once left Tichy's as he sucked the man's cock, but it was several minutes before his shivers and shakes finally subsided. He worked the man's glans with his tongue, applied pressure with his lips, and took Tichy's cockhead into the threshold of his throat every second or third time he bobbed his head. Sucking cock was becoming almost second nature for the boy, not that he saw it exactly in those terms. Rather, to Marek, sucking provided a bit of respite from the other things that Tichy made him do, almost all of which were worse, either because they were disgusting, painful, or both. Blowjobs, by comparison, usually didn't hurt. And unless the man really wanted to force his entire cock into the boy's throat, Marek could get through them well enough.

Tichy let the suck job stretch to a solid 30 minutes, demanding more tongue and steady, repeated depth from the boy – mercifully never more than the five inches Marek could already take – while not allowing Marek to speed up. He edged at a near-orgasm for a good long while and then came hard with a deep, catching, guttural grunt, filling Marek's mouth with rather a lot of cum as Tichy tilted his head back with pleasure.

It had been several days since he had last sucked the man to orgasm, but Marek's observation during his initiation ceremony soon was proven correct; none of the boys came with anywhere near as much volume as Tichy himself. It had taken a long while, but when the man finally achieved orgasm, he flooded Marek's mouth with his bitter cum. Marek was careful not to swallow so he could show it to the man.

"Show me your prize, kurvičko [Author's Note: "little whore"]," Tichy demanded with a cruel smile.

Marek complied as he waited for Tichy's permission to finish. When it came, he grimaced and swallowed the man's cum in one stomach-churning gulp.

Tichy grunted in satisfaction at the show before allowing the boy to clean his shaft.

"Now go eat. Rest. Gather your strength, as you'll very much need it tomorrow. Tomorrow evening, half past eight my apartment. I have plans now that the office just isn't spacious and private enough for," he added.

"And Hurta," he said, as he paused long enough for the boy to make eye-contact once again. "Don't fuck with me. You're on your last warning before…" Tichy made a pistol-shooting gesture at the boy.

Marek was utterly exhausted and emotionally spent. He had done everything the man asked, everything he wanted. But when Tichy instructed him to come to his apartment the next evening for a special session. Marek blanched. He was terrified. But what could he do except muster the courage and energy to reply?

"Yes, sir," he said in a meek whisper.

To Be Continued