Chapter 16

Marek literally had his bag in hand and was walking to the door when Radek instructed him to wait. Marek's face fell as he realized what the other boy wanted him to do for him, but he didn't hesitate, not exactly. It was more like a pause, and just a short one, as he contemplated the complete unfairness of his existence. He should have known that Radek would take advantage of the new situation. The other boy now had Tichy's protection, as well as his imprimatur, not to mention his encouragement. Radek also had been vested with the authority to punish him, which was not really a concern given what Marek already was used to from Tichy, but he also had a tattling mandate, which did concern Marek greatly.

Marek set his bag down on the floor, and with a neutral-but-condemning look at Radek, knelt between the boy's legs and took his cock into his mouth. Radek was already sporting his full 4" [10 cm] of 12-year-old morning wood as Marek began to wet the member with his lips and tongue.

Radek groaned in pleasure, tilted his head back, and relaxed as Marek began to suck him. This was the shit. He had never asked to be dragged into Tichy's games or to share a room with the most hated, complicated, problematic boy in the whole school, but if he had to live on the verge of a heart attack half the time, he could at least enjoy the perquisites of his position. There was no question but that this was a perk.

Marek was tired, and this was the last way he wanted to start his day. How many blowjobs had he given in the last three weeks? He'd long since lost count. At least with Radek's small-sized cock there was no fear of gagging, but what was up with the kid that Marek couldn't get him to cum? He used all his tricks — lots of tongue, lip-pressure, irregular bobbing, glans-swirling, sucking — but Radek just wouldn't get off. Marek shifted on his knees, which were getting sore as he knelt on the hard, linoleum floor. Had Radek jerked off in the night? Back in the days when he was allowed to masturbate, Marek could cum every morning even if he had jerked off several times the day before. What was up with this kid?

Even when he was masturbating, Radek usually needed a solid fifteen minutes to cum. He was totally unaware that his stamina was unusual for a boy his age, and he took the best part of twenty minutes yet again before he felt his orgasm coming on. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Marek felt fluid in his mouth. He quickly swallowed it down. He would be late to the bathroom, now, and would have to rush to make it to breakfast on time. But Radek stopped him again. He didn't demand that Marek show his work — just as he hadn't required eye contact from his roommate, or any of Tichy's other humiliations — but he did have something to say.

"Stay where you are," Radek said. "I was thinking about your rules. You told me you have to wear the panties under clothes and be in them in our room at night, but you didn't say you couldn't wear your day clothes over them when you go to brush your teeth. So put some clothes on before you go to the bathroom. I don't want you parading down the hall in just the panties anymore. It's embarrassing enough that everyone thinks you're walking around in here with me, dressed like a girl. I'm not into that shit at all," said the boy who had just received a blowjob from his panty-clad roommate.

"If you get into trouble for it, then I guess you will. This is a command," added Radek with unusual determination.

Marek was in a hurry, and he wanted to nod in agreement, but he hesitated. Radek's command was a direct contradiction of Tichy's order. Tichy had told him that if he went to the bathroom in his pajamas, he would have to go in the panties, which, for the next week, were his pajamas.

"I- the rules … I have to wear them any time after 9:00 o'clock and whenever I would be normally in my pajamas," he explained patiently to the other boy. He almost added a "sir" to the end of his sentence but refrained. It was only Radek, after all.

Radek sighed. He was going to have to report this to Tichy. That was both hesitation and defiance. Why did Marek have to keep getting himself in trouble? Maybe Tichy had a point when he seemed so determined to break Hurta into obedience.

"Stand up and put your hands behind your back," Radek demanded. Marek's cheeks blushed as his roommate went straight into Tichy mode, but he did as the other boy commanded. He should have known that Radek would take full advantage of his new powers and show him no mercy. Radek was that kind of kid. He'd always wanted to feel important and be respected, and now he could be, at least when it came to Marek. In bestowing special authority on Radek, Tichy had managed to find the one thing that could make Marek's last days at the internat even more of a living hell than they already projected to be.

As soon as Marek was in position, Radek pulled the panties down to his knees. Then he reached for Marek's cock and toyed with it, squeezing the fleshy tube, moving it this way and that and playing with it like one would at the start of a wank to get it nice and hard. Just like that, Marek was erect. It didn't take much of anything to get him that way these days, and even the touch of Radek's pudgy fingers did the trick. Radek left him like that, rock hard, with the panties tugged down to a point just above his knees.

"You either go like this or you put some clothes on over those damn panties," Radek snapped sharply. "If you go like this, you better still have that boner when you come back, or you'll be spanked before we go to breakfast," added Radek. "And that's a promise."

Radek stepped away and sat down in his desk chair. Marek could now decide for himself just how important it was to comply with the panty rules. Radek was testing the kid, sure, but he really didn't like his roommate strutting around in panties, and he was trying to push Marek into the clothes-wearing option. Seeing the panties on Marek made Radek feel like a poof, and he was already very sensitive about that given the homo activities he was partaking in, and enjoying, behind closed doors.

Marek wasn't sure what to do. Radek had given him a direct command, but it contradicted Tichy's order. He could either obey Radek or Tichy, not both, but he knew he couldn't simply walk to the bathroom with a boner. That just wasn't done. Not to mention that resolving this issue with Radek was the much more immediate concern.

"I'll get dressed, then," he said to the other boy. "Can I pull them up to put my trousers on?"

"See, I knew we would come to an understanding," said Radek, intentionally stalling a bit over Marek's request, just to enjoy his moment of power. "You'll report to me if you get punished for it, specifically and in detail, so I can make an informed decision about tomorrow morning's tooth-brushing."

Marek hated just standing there, taking shit from his roommate. There was no way, no how that Radek would have tried any of this without Tichy's backing. Marek was so certain he could beat the boy to a pulp that he'd never even been tempted to do so during the term despite having had ample cause, and even at one point, Tichy's permission. He had instead not beaten on the kid. He'd even tried to engage him, play a game with him, perhaps show Radek that his roommate wasn't such a bad kid after all. He would have befriended Radek, despite his misgivings about the boy, just to have an ally at the school. He regretted all that now. He regretted not beating on the kid when he had the chance. Now, he'd never get the opportunity — unless, perhaps, he punched the daylights out of Radek right before he left this shithole school forever at the break.

Radek had just opened his mouth again to tell Marek to just pull the panties up and get dressed, glad for his little victory, when something else occurred him.

"Tichy seems weirdly obsessed about the no-cum thing, eh?" he said to Marek. "Like it seems more important and more emphasized than the other rules?" he added as he grabbed his roommate's cock again and started to wank it. "I could easily get you in a whole lot more trouble than what you might get for brushing your teeth while dressed, couldn't I? How long will this take," he said, getting a good grip on Marek's erection and wanking it fast. "Ten, nine, eight?" he counted down jokingly, although he had no way of knowing just how accurate he was on that score.

Oh, geez. Radek's hand felt very good on his cock. Marek was going to cum in seconds if the other boy kept doing that. Radek simply had no idea how bad his need was.

"Not long," hissed Marek in a whispered voice, as part of him — a large part of him — wanted the fucking kid to finish it, punishments be damned. He was always being punished for something, and at least this transgression would give him some pleasure and relieve a major need.

Luckily or unluckily for his roommate, however, Radek stopped without finishing the countdown. Marek exhaled as the other boy left him hanging once again. He needed to jerk off so bad now. The entire lower half of his body must be filling up with cum like a bathtub, because there couldn't be any additional room for it in his balls.

"Get dressed," Radek ordered. "Go, now, and remember who can arrange for an ass-roasting for you in just about ten seconds or so," he added. He then got dressed himself, walking out of the room a moment later to do his own bit of morning hygiene.

Marek quickly got dressed, raced to the bathroom, brushed, finished dressing, and sprinted to the canteen for breakfast. After breakfast, but before his first class, he dashed to the office on the first floor of the administration building, where he signed up for an 11:00 a.m. slot to call his Aunt Martina in Vacenovice. The break was coming up soon, and there had been no contact from his mother in over a month. She had not responded to his letter, nor had she sent the train tickets that he needed to get home. Marek knew that he needed to call home and find out what was going on. His mother didn't have a telephone, but his aunt did, and Marek had memorized the number.

Just before 11:00 a.m., Marek used his pass to excuse himself from class and return to the office. A different woman was manning the desk when he arrived, and when Marek provided his name, he was a bit surprised when the woman looked up at him and told him that she had been expecting him.

"Didn't comrade Skala have a talk with you already?" she asked him with a quizzical expression. "I have two notes here, one for you to call your Aunt Martina at this number, and another note — oh, I see, yes. It makes sense now. The second note is from comrade Skala asking you to see him in his office once you make your call." She smiled at the boy indulgently. "It makes sense that he hasn't spoken to you, yet. Why don't you make the call now? I'll issue you another pass to see comrade Skala when you're finished."

Marek watched as the secretary dialed the number before handing over the receiver. The phone rang for a concerningly long time, but eventually, his aunt picked up.

"Oh, Marek. I was actually going to call you this weekend," she said with what seemed like fake enthusiasm. "Funny, that. How are you? How's school going?" asked his Aunt Martina. She sounded plastic to Marek, like she wasn't really all that happy to hear from him and didn't really care what he had to say. Indeed, she sounded tense, and she barely seemed to listen to his equally fake answers to the effect that school was going well. Something was up, and a few moments later, she spilled the beans.

"Your mother had another breakdown just over a month ago, Marek," she announced. "A total collapse. She's alive – don't worry — she's even out of the intensive care unit now and back in an asylum to help her recover. But she won't be home for Christmas, and Uncle Richard won't let me have you stay here over the break. He doesn't want to pay for the train ticket – you know how he is," she said with a sigh, as if she wished it could be otherwise.

"But I've spoken to your headmaster, and he apparently has a very nice solution for you, so you don't have to worry about it," she continued. "Maybe if your mother is recovered by then, you could come home in February between terms. We could even have a little make-up Christmas thing for you, you know, which would be very nice."

Marek held the receiver to his ear in disbelief as his aunt continued to speak. His face went pale as all the blood drained out seemingly into his feet. He stood still as a statue as he tried to fathom what his aunt was telling him. His mother had had breakdowns before due to the trauma suffered by her incarceration and interrogation following the arrest and disappearance of Marek's father, but this was the worst time for her to have another attack. In the absence of his mother, the only people in the world who could take Marek in during the break were his aunt and uncle, but Marek's Uncle Richard had never bonded with the boy, and he apparently had put the kibosh on paying for Marek's train ticket. Marek listened in shocked silence as his aunt continued to speak.

"But for now, it's just not possible for you to come home," she said. "You need to stay there at the school. It will be good for you, anyway — you've always been a bit clingy with your mother and staying at the school will help you to toughen up. It will help you to grow up and become more independent from your mother, since we all know she has more than her share of problems," she added condescendingly.

Marek knew that his aunt was trying to sound both reassuring and firm, but mostly she just sounded awkward, like she was searching for platitudes to say. She liked Marek well enough, but she didn't really want to have this conversation with him, and she wasn't about to argue with her husband about bringing him back to Vacenovice for Christmas, especially if they had to pay for the train ticket. Even she was tired of subsidizing her sister and nephew, which she and Richard had done at considerable cost over the years.

Marek was stunned. He still hadn't said a word to his aunt since she had told him of his mother's breakdown. His mind still was trying to wrap itself around what this meant for him. The internat was closed for two weeks at Christmas and the students were required to leave campus. Staying in the dorms was not an option, as they would be locked up tight as a drum and inaccessible to the students for the entire time. Skala had announced the rules to the entire school, and doubly so to the first-year students. No exceptions would be made.

Where on earth would he stay over the break? He had no friends at the school, which meant that staying with one of his classmates was an impossibility. What was comrade Skala's plan for him? He asked his aunt, but she didn't know, and she suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry to end the call. He begged and pleaded with her to change her mind, to talk to Uncle Richard on his behalf, but his aunt cut through his protests, telling him to talk to his headmaster before she simply hung up on him, the line going dead in his hand.

Marek stood in shock for a few moments, handing the receiver back to the secretary only when the dial tone erupted in his ear. He was as white as a sheet.

The office secretary had overheard his half of the conversation, and of course, she already knew most of what was going on. She placed an arm around the distraught boy.

"There, there," she encouraged him, "your mother will be just fine, dear. All she needs is rest, of course. My own cousin had just such an episode, and she was just fine, just fine again in weeks! Why, I'm sure your mother will be home well before February, and perhaps you'll be allowed to scoot home then for the long weekend. I'm sure comrade Skala will make an exception for you under the circumstances."

Marek didn't react or speak. His head was spinning. What solution did Skala have for him? Where would he go? The school would be deserted of boys, and mostly of staff, too. Suddenly, Marek felt faint. He pulled away from the woman and sat down with an uncomprehending look on his face. Couldn't he call his mother? There had to be telephones where she was. If he could just get the train fare home, maybe he could stay with one of his friends in Vacenovice over the break.

"Why don't you go see comrade Skala right after lunch, dear," said the kindly secretary, as she hovered close and ushered Marek back to his feet. "He'll be in his office working on the report to the Ministry. He'll be able to explain everything to you then, I'm sure!"

Marek returned to class, but he could not concentrate on his subjects. He had a pit the size of a football in his stomach, and it felt like his world had come to an end. He felt betrayed by his mother. Why was she so weak just when he needed her the most? Why couldn't he just go home, anyway? He was old enough to stay in the apartment alone, or with his friend Alois and his family, or if worst came to worst, grumpy old Mrs. Beneš from across the hall could look after him.

All Marek had wanted to do for weeks was return home from this place and never come back — except eventually to kill Tichy, of course, and perhaps also Radek depending on how he felt at the time — but what now? Where would he go? What was Skala's plan for him?

Skala indeed was waiting for him after lunch, and as Marek entered the office after knocking, he offered the boy a saccharine smile. Skala still had the manner of an unaccomplished man who couldn't believe that he had achieved such a relatively high station in life as to be the headmaster of a junior internat. As jobs went, his was a relatively easy one. Although a teacher by trade, his current position had no teaching responsibilities, which suited him just fine. As headmaster, he was mostly just a figurehead and a spokesperson for the school, fielding a few calls each day from parents and Ministry officials – tasks that hardly kept him very busy. The only parts of the job he truly minded were the constant paperwork and dealing with the boys, particularly those with homesickness problems or emotional issues. Nothing could be done about the paperwork, but he usually managed to get Tichy to deal with the latter problem, just as he did with the disciplinary issues. Tichy was much better than he at dealing with such things, but Skala had reluctantly agreed that the situation with the Hurta boy required the headmaster's personal involvement.

"So sorry to hear about your mother, Marek, but I gather she'll be just fine in short order," said the man as sweetly as he could manage. "She needs rest, is all. Now, our hands are a bit tied, since your aunt and uncle can't have you for the holidays, and we can't discharge you from the school without proper authorization. I discussed your situation with a social worker in Brod, but the local orphan-" — he caught himself and pretended to clear his throat — "… the local children's home is at capacity, and I gather not at all a nice place. Not to mention that I would feel awful to just hand you to such an institution for two weeks, over Christmas no less," said the man.

"So, we came up with a brilliant solution," continued Skala with a reassuring smile. "Well, not as good as Christmas at home with family, I'm sure, but comrade Tichy said he had no plans to travel and visit his family; he'll just be here at the school the entire time. He says he plans to do a lot of skiing, which is a perfect holiday activity for a young athlete like you. You won't be able to stay in your dorm room, of course, but Vacha will move an improvised bed into comrade Tichy's apartment for you. At least you'll spend the holidays with someone you're used to, and in a familiar environment," said Skala, who was trying to convey that this was great news, sounding very much relieved himself. He had nearly gotten into a shouting match about Marek's situation with the damned overloaded social worker, but he wasn't about to tell the boy that bit.

Marek felt himself starting to shake and tremble as the horror of what Skala had just told him began to sink in. It was almost too much for the boy's conscious brain to handle without snapping. All he had wanted to do was go home at the break to get away from Tichy and the school, and now he was supposed to stay with Tichy at the school. It was like being sentenced to 100 years of hard labor. No, it was worse than that. Far worse. Marek would have accepted 100 years of hard labor. He could not accept this. It was a good thing that Skala had invited him to sit in one of his two office chairs, as Marek likely would have passed out as the blood drained from his face and ran cold in his veins. He felt faint. He could barely hear Skala's words cutting through the sound of the rushing waterfall in his brain.

"Comrade Skala," he began. "I- I can't stay here," he gasped. He felt like he was going to pass out. "Comrade Tichy … he- he- he hates me. Please, sir. Please let me stay with you, sir."

"Oh, Marek, I can't have you," replied Skala. "My wife already complains about me bringing work home, so I can hardly bring home one of the boys," he said with a chuckle. "This is the best solution, I assure you. It's the only one, actually, so no point in kicking up a fuss," he sighed.

He paused and looked over at Marek indulgently. "I know it's been hard for you here, Marek, and I know you've had problems with the other boys. I imagine you've been quite … anxious about your grandfather's dark legacy, and of course, and your father's, too. Of course, that's why you're here – to work through your unfortunate circumstances. I know it's not been easy, but I think it was very brave of you to come here to face your past."

Marek couldn't speak. He was stunned. His head was spinning from everything he had just heard. What did the man mean about his being here at the school, thinking it was brave and all that?

"Wait, what, um, what did you mean when you said that's why I was here?" Marek asked the man.

"Well, simply that local party headquarters in Vacenovice were going to make sure you finished your education at the end of basic school," replied Skala. "They were going to lock you out of even getting a practical qualification. You'd be stuck sweeping sidewalks for the rest of your life. They had you on record. You probably hadn't realized or experienced it, but you were, one could say, in a problematic position down there," Skala said, in what was very nearly a whisper. For such a timid man, he was taking a bit of a risk saying out loud what everyone knew was the truth – that the Party was ruthless and unscrupulous, and that it discriminated against enemies as well as their descendants and wider family. This was not something that Skala wished to be overheard saying, but he felt he owed it to the Hurta boy to explain his situation.

"As for comrade Tichy, maybe while you were being punished for all the trouble you've been getting yourself into, you probably missed out entirely on his kind side. It was comrade Tichy who found out that you were blacklisted in the whole Brno region, officially and unofficially. That's why he brought you here. You likely wouldn't have found a school in Moravia to take you, even to become a carpenter or welder or something. It was Tichy who arranged for your stipend here; in fact, he helped raise some of the money for you, and I fully supported him in the effort."

"You see, here, we can give you a chance," continued Skala. "If you learn your lessons well, Technoglass, or the Tanvald Gymnasium, or even the senior internat in Jirkov, will be open to you. You can become a glass blower. A glass technician. An expert in bijouterie and crystal glass, or optics, or even glass-making machinery. You'll carve a life out for yourself. Not through privilege, but through hard work — that's the idea. No special treatment, but Tichy managed to persuade the local party officials not to blacklist you. You might even end up going to a university in Liberec, or someplace. I know Vacenovice and the Brno region feels like home, but nothing good awaits you there. Your one chance at ever having a decent life lies here, in Brod."

"Maybe you and comrade Tichy should have a talk, Marek. I know he's not one to boast, but I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned that he arranged for the stipend that was set up especially for you to take advantage of here. It took him a lot of time, energy, and persuasion, especially keeping you off the blacklists. He had to pull some strings I didn't even know a teacher could pull. But let's not get into conspiracy theories, shall we? I for one don't believe I have an STB agent teaching here at the school," he said with another chuckle. "What good would he be here anyway, in these quiet, far away hills, eh?"

Skala was still talking, explaining, droning on and on. What, exactly, was he saying? Blacklisted? Him? For what? And Tichy had … he had what? Marek felt confused. Tichy had … arranged for him to be here? Tichy? Tichy was responsible for his admission? Tichy had pulled strings? To bring him here? But Tichy hated him. He had said so. He had even explained why. Why would he want Marek anywhere near him? Why would he …

And that's when it all became clear to Marek. Right then, right there, in that precise moment, in comrade Skala's office. It was the moment when the truth cut through the nearly overwhelmed brain of a distraught 12-year-old child and brought with it crystal clarity. In that moment, Marek knew. He knew everything, and he knew it with certainty.

He stood up suddenly from his chair, already starting to hyperventilate, his expression dazed, his complexion pale and sickly looking.

"C-comrade Skala, I d-don't feel well," he started to say, as he simply passed out, toppling forward limply to strike his head and face a glancing blow against the front of the man's desk.

Marek woke up later in the nurse's ward, but this time she was not forthcoming or friendly when he came to. She gave him a fizzy, sickly sweet drink to drink as soon as he awoke.

"You're fine," she informed him without fanfare. "You'll have a bruise on your forehead, but you're fine." She paused to glare at him. "I have reported your idea of a joke or whatever it is to comrade Tichy. Where did you even find girl's panties at an all-boys internat? I hope you didn't steal them off Ludmila! You nasty boys are always mocking that poor girl and calling her names," she said with a frown.

"Don't even tell me; I don't want to know," she continued. "Drink up, then you can sit up, and get slowly to your feet. You've missed the start of your afternoon classes and you're excused from them. Go back to your room. You are to go to see comrade Tichy towards the end of his office hours — something like five o'clock, I gather. In the meantime, I'll have a thermos of tea sent to your room."

Marek wasn't even sure what had happened, but he was able to piece things together well enough. Although he had wrapped up his talk with Skala by passing out, he still had good recall of the conversation, including the plan for him over the break, and the details about Tichy's effort to bring him to the internat. That the nurse had discovered the panties was really of almost trivial concern. He probably had been stripped of his clothing upon arrival in the infirmary, or at least his clothes had been loosened, even though he was wearing them again now. She must have seen the panties, but Marek had much bigger problems than that on his hands.

"I really did think better of you, Marek, prank or not!" the nurse added sternly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Marek replied wearily. "I lost a bet. It was just a joke — I didn't expect you to see them."

He took the fizzy drink and felt for the bruise on his forehead. He had a bump there, and it was sensitive to the touch. But the nurse seemed to be eager to see him go, so he put his feet down to test the floor and found that he was stable once again. He stood to his feet and thanked her. She always had been kind to him and was one of the few people at the school who had never once treated him differently because of who he was. The discovery of the panties had ended that. Unbeknownst to Marek, Panty Challenge No. 3 had just cost him one of his only allies at the school, The nurse didn't even respond to his apology as he stood to go.

Marek left the infirmary deep in thought. He was angry, mostly at his mother. He hated to feel that way about her, but he did. She had betrayed him, not only by having another fit, but also by sending him to this torture chamber of a school in the first place. Didn't she know what would happen to him here? Didn't she understand? It was like sending a Jewish kid to Nazi Germany for Hitler Youth summer camp; here, at the internat, he was the Jewish kid. Everybody hated him here because of who he was. She should have known that. She came from this region. She had been born here. She should have warned him. How could she have been so dumb and careless with her only son?

What was he going to do? Skala had arranged for him to stay with Tichy for the entire two-week break. He would be alone with the man who hated him and had brought him here to the school to abuse and torture him right under everyone's noses. It was untenable. One way or the other, that was not happening, because it couldn't happen. Despite what Skala said, he was going home, and he was never returning, not ever. Marek would have to escape from the school even if it killed him to try, but he thought he could pull it off, even with Tichy all over his ass. PISKG had security fencing and a gate, but it wasn't a prison. Marek hadn't been sentenced to go here, even if it felt right now very much like he had been.

He was scheduled to see Tichy in the afternoon and he knew he would have to go. There wouldn't be time to come to up with another plan between now and then, but when Tichy was done with him, Marek would start working on his plan to escape. He would work out every detail in advance because it simply had to work. The boy knew he could not fail.

Deep in thought, he returned to his room, praying all the while that Radek would not be there. But, of course, he was. Marek was just having that kind of day.

"Lock the door," said Radek as soon as Marek entered. "Corner time," he said, trying to emulate Tichy's tone of voice, which he had practiced in Marek's absence. He had found that it was far easier to bully his roommate when he emulated Tichy and used the teacher's methods. Radek wasn't terribly smart or creative, so copying Tichy was the best he could do. Ironically, that made him the kind of boy who a decent future in the regime — an opportunist who could emulate the successful approach of others who had gone before him.

Radek had no idea about Marek's issues concerning his mother, his plans for the break, or his sudden discovery of a whole load of things; he was just following through with a relatively simple plan that he had come up with to please and appease Tichy. It wasn't quite four o'clock, which meant he had a full hour before he was to go to Tichy's office. That was more than enough time for Radek to practice bossing Marek around and enjoy another blowjob – something he had been looking forward to since the intensely pleasurable morning session.

"Why did you miss your afternoon classes?" he asked Marek sternly. "Seriously man, you seem to be mad at the world, but have you ever paused to think that maybe some of the trouble actually has to do with how you behave? Go on, anyway, corner time and report," he said.

With a sinking feeling in his already knotted stomach, Marek turned to close and lock the door. The thought that Radek would be cruel to him after everything he already had gone through today seemed almost too much to bear, but the kid had ordered him to do corner time, and Marek knew he needed to comply. Did Radek want him naked? Marek already knew the answer. Corner time was naked with Tichy, it had been naked yesterday with Radek, and it would be naked again with the redhaired boy today.

Without speaking, without even looking sullen, Marek began to remove his clothes. When he was fully naked, he went to the designated spot and placed himself in corner time. The position would give him some much-needed alone time to think, at least until Radek was ready to torment him some more. But as he leaned his nose against the wall, Marek's eyes glistened once again with tears.

"I said report!" Radek chastised him. "Tell me why you missed your classes – now you can do it from over there," conceded Radek. "What's going on? If I've been pulled into this mess, I at least need to know what's happening," he added in a slightly less confrontational tone.

Marek sighed softly as Radek wouldn't even give him the solitude that was supposed to accompany corner time. Just as with the nurse, Radek was such a small concern that Marek simply didn't want to have to devote the effort needed to deal with him, but he knew that things could escalate with Radek if he weren't careful, including all the way up to Tichy. That was the last thing he needed to happen.

"I was in the infirmary," Marek said in a soft voice — too soft, he quickly realized, as he had said it in a near-whisper to the wall. "I was in the infirmary," he said in a louder voice. "My mother is … sick," he added, trying to keep his emotions in check. He found himself wondering if Radek would care. It was almost a test of his roommate's propensity for cruelty, which by this point Marek was pretty sure had no bounds.

"Dude, that doesn't make any sense," replied Radek. He was sitting in his desk chair, turned around so he had a good view of the other boy. Marek was on his knees, kneeling with legs wide apart, his forehead against the wall, his hands up on his head, and his ass stuck out, as if for a spanking … or something else. It didn't take much for Radek to imagine that Marek really was just Tichy's poof boy. The fact that "corner time" meant this, without further explanation, was quite telling.

"What does your mother being sick have to do with you in the infirmary?" demanded Radek. "Explain yourself, and don't give me any bullshit. In an hour I'll be reporting to Tichy, and I assume you don't want me angry with you or in a bad mood when I do?"

Marek closed his eyes and cringed as Radek persisted. He didn't want to talk to the other boy right now. He just wanted to be left alone so he could think, but it was obvious that Radek was not going to leave him be. Marek would have to engage with him.

"I was in comrade Skala's office," he told the wall. "I went to stand up, and I think I passed out. He must have taken me to the infirmary." Marek shifted slightly in his stance. He knew from experience that there was no way to make corner time more comfortable, especially not on a hard floor. The degree of discomfort was directly related to hardness of the floor and length of time he was required to stay in position. It wasn't a good sign that his back already was starting to bother him.

"You think you passed out, standing up, just like that? No other reason?" Radek asked skeptically. He was clearly getting annoyed. "Come here!" he demanded, more snappily.

Marek rolled his eyes as he stood to his feet, but despite his aggravation he was starting to take Radek and his questions a bit more seriously. That was out of necessity. The last thing he needed was to have the kid pissed off when he reported to Tichy. Marek himself also was supposed to report to Tichy at five o'clock, for reasons that still weren't clear.

Marek went to the other boy. Would Radek really hit him? Marek was pretty sure that he would if given the chance.

"Stand sideways, facing this way," said Radek as he pointed to his left. He picked up his slipper with his right hand, and when Marek drew near, he grabbed the boy's cock with his left, giving it a few strokes to make it hard again. "What happened in Skala's office?" he demanded as he started masturbating Marek, the slipper at the ready to use on the boy's backside.

Marek gasped as Radek grabbed his cock. "My mother's sick," he said in a soft voice. "She's … in the hospital. I can't go home over the break. And I- I really wanted to." Tears came to his eyes now. He couldn't help it. "Now I have to stay here … with him."

"Woah, wait," said Radek, his eyes wide, as his hand went still. "You have to stay here over the break with him?"

Marek nodded as he turned to face the window. He didn't want his roommate to see him crying.

"Dude are you serious?" said Radek, as he immediately dropped Marek's cock and the slipper as his roommate nodded for the second time. "Oh fuck, man, that really sucks," he said genuinely. "Sorry. Go put your clothes on and take a break. I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't realize it was serious, or that it meant Christmas with Tichy for you. Dude. Sorry. Here, have some chocolate, please?" he said as he fished a Studentska Pecet bar from his drawer and broke off a big piece, handing it to Marek.

Marek was stunned at his roommate's reaction. Nobody at the school had ever, not once, seemed to care about anything important to him. He hadn't expected Radek to, either. He tried to blink back more embarrassing tears as he took the hunk of chocolate from his roommate. The chocolate was a nice gesture.

"Thanks," he said, gratefully, as he quickly went and put on his clothes, including the hated panties, which he would need to be wearing for his visit to Tichy.

"Thanks for … " Marek started to say. How should he put this? It felt weird to be thanking the other boy for anything. "Thanks for not being mean to me," he finally said, and he meant it pretty much exactly that way.

Radek didn't know what to say. "Um, yeah," he managed. "Look, dude, I know this isn't fair, but I'm no hero. I never said I was. I'm not getting in trouble with Tichy, no way, no how. I'm just not. Like I said, though, I'll try not to get you into too much trouble, okay? If he's happy, we can just stick to one stupid command per day, so I have something to report. And, you know," he said, while blushing with embarrassment, "some blowjobs."

"I hope that's not too big a deal," continued Radek. "I know we're not like … real friends, but I wouldn't want you to hate me or anything, just because … " he said as his voice trailed off. There was an awkward pause as Radek collected his thoughts. "The truth is, I'm kind of a coward," he said as he turned away.

Marek listened as the other boy explained himself and his plans, and part of Marek understood. If the price of Radek not being mean and not trying to undermine him to Tichy was a few blowjobs, Marek was sure he could handle that. It wasn't fair, and Radek clearly was taking advantage of the situation, but he wasn't sure how much he could blame the other boy. Marek had never had a blowjob, himself, but every single time he gave one to somebody, the reaction seemed to be one of great pleasure. Would he have been able to lay off Radek if the shoe had been on the other foot? If it weren't for the homo thing, he wasn't sure at all. And based on how he felt right now, Marek would gladly have accepted a blowjob from a guy if it would just allow him to get off.

With Radek off his back, Marek had almost an hour to contemplate his next move. He hadn't been doing any studying or schoolwork these past few days, and he didn't now, either, instead using the time to begin thinking about a plan of escape. There was no way he could stay with Tichy over the break. With no one around to moderate his cruelty, the man would torture Marek mercilessly, either killing him in the process or driving the boy to a nervous breakdown. If he lived through the ordeal, he would be shipped home drooling and talking to himself, perhaps to join his mother at the hospital where she was recuperating. Maybe they could even stay in the same room.

For his part, Radek couldn't imagine being in Marek's shoes, especially considering that the kid had been through absolute hell in just the last 24 hours. Radek knew full well that he had contributed to Marek's misery, but he had Tichy to blame for that. Still, he was glad that Marek had accepted the chocolate as a peace offering. Radek spent the rest of the hour thinking about a careful phrasing of his report, using words that would not aggravate Tichy, but that also would not get Marek into any more trouble. He also pondered when it would be appropriate to demand another blowjob from the kid, but he decided to skip the afternoon slot to give Marek a break.

When the time came, they left for Tichy's office together. It felt weird for Marek to go to Tichy's office with someone else after making the walk alone so many times.

"Come in," said Tichy and when Radek opened the door, he added, "both of you." They walked in together, but that was where the similarities ended. Tichy gave Marek a stern look, as if daring him to break the rules for the second time in as many days.

Marek turned to lock the door, then began to strip. As Radek looked on in astonishment, his roommate dropped naked to his hands and knees and crawled to the man with his butt out and his face hovering an inch above the carpet.

Still seated behind his desk, Tichy lit up and relaxed, a smug smile playing on his lips as Marek made his supplicating crawl across the carpet before the other boy. Radek stood there frozen and silent until Tichy cleared his throat.

"Radek?" asked Tichy. "Report."

"Yes, sir, I mean, comrade Tichy, sir," mumbled Radek. "Uh, right. You were right, sir. Comrade?" The boy was sweating now, and despite Marek's prone position on the floor, he knew that Radek's self-proclaimed cowardliness was on full display.

"I made Marek, uh, suck me, and you were right, sir," continued Radek. "It felt, uh, really nice. He did a great job, I think. Not like I know, though. I mean, I can't compare, but it felt great. So, I had him do it again in the morning. I also made him stay in corner time in our room just now and explain why he missed his afternoon classes. He was really good, sir, like on the whole. He just hesitated when I told him he had to wear clothes to go brush his teeth in the morning. I didn't allow him out of the room in the panties. He seemed worried that it was against your rules, sir, but eventually, he obeyed me. It really wasn't much of a delay."

Marek kept his head down and his face close to the floor as he listened to Radek give his report. He knew that the other boy had the power to get him in hot water with Tichy because he was sure he had committed multiple infractions of one rule or another. Between Tichy's rules and Radek's demands, plus the rule against hesitating, Marek's head spun every time he was given an instruction, and half the time even when he wasn't. He still half expected to be punished for his role in the fight with Nikola, and probably for a variety of other things, as well.

But Radek, he realized, was not throwing him under the bus. His report to Tichy was entirely fair, although Marek was concerned at the way he phrased the part about being clothed when he went to the bathroom. It made it sound like Marek had deliberately chosen to violate one of Tichy's rules, but it hadn't been that way at all. Radek had told him to violate it and threatened him if he didn't do it the way Radek wanted it done. There had been no way to comply with both directives at the same time, and he hoped that Tichy understood that.

A few moments of silence followed Radek's report as Tichy let that last part hang in the air. Marek froze in fear at the man's lack of any reaction or response. Radek averted his eyes as he worried that he had messed something up. Finally, Tichy spoke.

"You told Marek to wear clothing over his panties while he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and he informed you that to do so would violate one of my rules, do I have that right?" the man asked Radek.

"Yes, sir," replied Radek with an audible gulp.

"Was there any question in your mind that your order contradicted my rule?"

"N-no, sir," stammered Radek. "But I didn-"

"And was there any question in your mind that Marek knew that your order contradicted my rule?" interrupted Tichy.

"No, sir, and I'm sorry about that, sir. I-"

"Stop talking, Radek," interrupted Tichy once again. "Marek, stand up," he ordered.

Feeling like he might pass out for the second time that day, Marek rose to his feet. His heart was racing in his chest. He could not look at the man for his shame. His eyes were averted downward.

"You knew and understood my rule, and you deliberately and intentionally violated it, is that what I am to understand?" Tichy asked the terrified boy.

Marek's lower lip quivered at the man's question. It wasn't that way. That wasn't a fair way to describe it. Marek wanted to argue with the man. He wanted to beg. Radek had put him in an impossible situation. Whichever choice Marek made would have resulted in a punishment either for violating one of Tichy's rules, or for violating Tichy's instructions to obey Radek. Radek's directive had forced him to make a choice. At the time, Marek had been in a hurry not to miss breakfast and Radek had been the more immediate concern, but now Marek wished he could rethink his decision. He hadn't realized at the time how this would look. He wished he could take it back.

"Yes, sir," he replied forlornly. He looked, felt, and sounded miserable.

Tichy turned to the other boy. "Well done, Radek. I thought it might take longer than a single day for you to provoke Marek's disobedience, but you pulled it off. I want you to keep at it. Keep testing him. In the meantime," he said as he took Marek's upper arm and pulled the boy up and over to the narrow side of his desk, "we'll remind Marek about the price of disobedience. I would have thought he had learned his lesson yesterday, but apparently your slipper did not provide quite the incentive for good behavior that I thought it would."

With one hand on Marek's hip and his other on the boy's neck, Tichy bent the naked boy over his desk and had him lie across it, arms outstretched. As Radek looked on with concern, Tichy walked to his cabinet, opened it, and extracted the same cane he had used on Marek several weeks before. He sliced it through the air a few times, making a familiar whoosh-whoosh sound.

"What do you think, Radek?" asked Tichy. "Six of the best for deliberate disobedience? Or is that too lenient?"

Radek paled as the man asked for his input. He was feeling guilty enough as it was, and he wasn't at all interested in seeing Marek caned. Not only had he given Marek an impossible command to perform, but he also hadn't listened to Marek's protests about it, and then he had ratted his roommate out to the disciplinarian at his first opportunity. In the normal course of his self-centered life, Radek Kinter didn't spend a lot of time worrying about fairness, but the sheer and complete unfairness of this situation ate at his conscience. It made him feel all the worse to know the kind of day Marek had had, even beyond the kid's usual torments.

Mustering all his courage, Radek went to bat for his roommate with the man he feared more than any other.

"Sir, um, Marek- well, he's had a really bad day, sir, and he tried to tell me about your rule," Radek said, with remarkable confidence in his voice for a boy as frightened as he was. "I insisted that he do it my way, and I threatened to punish him if he didn't. I put him in a bad situation, sir, and I don't think it's fair to punish him."

It was a good speech as speeches went, especially for a scared and intimidated 12-year-old boy who was a self-admitted coward and a ruthless opportunist, but it wasn't enough. Not even close. Tichy smiled at Radek's effort, even as he made a few final adjustments to Marek's posture as the boy lay prone across the desk.

"I'll assume that what you just said is a roundabout way of agreeing with me that six stripes of the cane are sufficient," replied Tichy evenly. "I wouldn't imagine that you would also choose to challenge my authority or question my decision-making, as young Mr. Hurta already has done. Or am I wrong?"

"No, sir, um, no," Radek backed down hastily. "Six would be fine, sir. I think- I actually think that's the right number. I agree with you, sir."

"Excellent, Radek," said Tichy as he handed the pudgy redhead the cane, "because you will be the one to administer them. Now, just in case you might think about showing Marek some undeserved leniency, understand that if the cane strokes are not given with your full strength, I'll have no choice but to demonstrate the proper technique on you. Do you understand?"

Radek paled as he took the cane and listened to Tichy's admonition. He hadn't wanted to get dragged into this mess, and – blowjobs aside – he wasn't at all happy with his new position of authority over his roommate. Tichy had instructed him to torment and humiliate Marek daily, and while for Radek it was no contest between complying with his instructions or facing Tichy's wrath, his own preference would have been to stay the hell out of the whole thing. Except for the blowjobs. Radek liked the blowjobs. If pressed, he could make the argument that the blowjobs made it all worthwhile.

"Y-yes, sir," he replied. "Understood, sir."

Radek held the cane in his right hand as Tichy showed him where to stand, then covered Radek's hand with his own and showed him how far to rear back and how to carry the blow into Marek's buttocks.

"Try to aim for a point on the edge of the desk, as if Marek weren't there," instructed Tichy. "Bring your arm down fast and flick your wrist at the last moment so the cane hits the mark you're aiming for with maximum velocity. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Radek with a nod. Even with only these rudimentary instructions, he felt more confident that he could punish Marek successfully.

"Aim your first blow here," said Tichy, as he drew the tip of the cane across Marek's flinching backside just below his coccyx. "The next one goes a bit below that, and so on. Stop after five and I'll show you how to cross the stripes. Now – do your thing."

Marek listened with silent dread as Tichy explained the proper caning mechanics to Radek. No matter how many ways Tichy beat him, Marek still feared the cane most of all. It was by far the cruelest of the implements Tichy had used on him. The welts and stripes it left behind took weeks to heal and made sitting and sleeping difficult. Marek could barely walk after the first time Tichy had caned him. While he was only to receive six stripes this time, Marek's bottom was still marked and hurting from his other recent punishments, and he knew that adding cane stripes to the mix would make his already sore backside sing with pain.

Radek swallowed nervously as Tichy backed off a couple of feet to the side, giving the boy sufficient room to perform the required task. He eyed Marek's exposed bottom warily. Marks from recent beatings adorned the kid's flesh, including, most recently, dozens of overlapping, slightly curving outlines from Radek's own slipper. Evidence of the recent belting Marek had taken also showed on the boy's buttocks, and if one looked carefully enough, beneath those marks were the still-healing, telltale marks imprinted by the very cane Radek was holding in his right hand. Marek's backside was a painted canvass of marks, bruises, and hues, and Radek knew that he was about to add to them.

"Sir, I'm worried about my aim," said Radek. "I want to use my full strength, but I'm afraid I might miss."

"You won't miss," replied Tichy, "and if you do, you work on your aim and try again. Just keep your eyes on the spot you want to hit. Using your full strength doesn't mean you swing wildly; it simply means you don't hold back out of a sense of sympathy or remorse. You already know that Marek needs strict discipline to ensure his obedience. I want you to provide that discipline to him. Go ahead."

"And Marek," Tichy added as he directed his attention to the other boy, "I needn't warn you that if you move from that desk, I'll double the number of blows and apply them myself. We have the entire evening if we need it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Marek replied from his prone position. His voice sounded weary and resigned.

Radek swished the cane in the air a few times, then reared back with his arm cocked over his head and aimed at the designated spot on Marek's buttocks. He paused for a moment as adrenaline coursed through his veins. This was … something. He'd never been given such unbridled power over another human being before. It was heady stuff for the 12-year-old. He could not deny that a part of him liked what he was about to do, although in fairness he probably would have preferred not to have to do it. Probably.

Marek heard the familiar sound of the cane cutting the air as it sliced down and hit the upper third of his buttocks with what seemed like a tremendous force. As before, it took several seconds for the pain neurons in his flesh to register and transmit to his brain what had happened. When the pain message finally arrived, it was a doozy. It drove the air from his lungs in a forced exhale. His butt cheeks clenched as the jolting, searing agony made him momentarily light-headed. His eyes watered with tears. Somehow, he managed not to cry out, but he wasn't sure he could refrain from doing so a second time.

Radek paused to survey the results of his first effort. Aside from the fact that he had missed his intended mark by about 2" [5 cm], the blow had been a success. The cane had struck Marek's bottom with good force and left a white stripe that was even now swelling into a thick, pink welt. Eventually, the edges of the stripe would take on a telltale purple hue, but for now, the colors of white and pink predominated.

Tichy was pleased with the effort. Radek hadn't held back, and the pain from the blow was evident from Marek's resulting distress. Things were going well. Tichy always enjoyed sharing his sadism with others, and it was nice to see Radek at least adequately performing in his new role. Tichy knew that he was likely to grow in confidence over time.

"Again," ordered Tichy. "Try to go back and hit the spot I showed you before – a little higher up."

Radek nodded. With a determined look on his face, he took aim a second time, reared back, and delivered the second blow, again with his full strength and this time with an audible grunt. Unfortunately for Marek, Radek's second effort had the same result as his first: He missed low once again, placing the second stripe directly over top of the first in the same spot on the upper third of Marek's exposed bottom.

The skin of Marek's buttocks instantly blistered at the impact site, turning purple and fissuring in more than a few places. Beads of blood formed along the angry, horizontal weal formed by the double blow.

For Marek, the ensuing pain was outrageous. It was uncontainable and unrestrained in its ferocity. His upper body rose from the desk as his body shuddered in shock. He fell back limply to the desk surface, regained his breath in a gasp, and screamed in agony.

"Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Radek looked stricken at what he had just done. He felt like he was going to pass out as he turned to look at Tichy with wide-eyed bewilderment.

"I'm sorry," he told the man as the cane slipped from his hand to the floor.

Tichy huffed with annoyance as he examined the damage to Marek's bottom. The double blow had left a deep, bleeding wound — almost a trench-like cut — to Marek's skin. It was deep enough to require first-aid treatment, which fortunately Tichy could provide, but still. This was a fuck-up, plain, and simple. Radek had just proven that he was not up to the task, and Tichy chided himself for the unforced error of letting an inexperienced boy wield the cane. He should have known better. He should have predicted the outcome. It just hadn't occurred to him that the kid would have insufficient aim to apply a mere six strokes – five, really, since the last would be applied on an angle to overlap the others – to Marek's butt. Tichy himself easily could put 12 parallel stripes into a young backside with plenty of room to spare.

Marek remained in position across the surface of the desk, his hands and arms still outstretched above his head. He was sobbing and hyperventilating. A tiny rivulet of blood escaped from the worst of the fissures and dribbled its way down his right butt cheek onto the back of his thigh.

"Radek, you can leave," said Tichy as he walked to his cabinet for his first-aid supplies. "You're not in any trouble, so don't worry. All rules and instructions still apply. You'll report to me here tomorrow at the same time. Now go."

"Yes, comrade Tichy," replied Radek as he made his way quickly to the door and grasped the knob, only to find it locked. He fumbled for the key, then proceeded to spend the next 30 seconds or more turning it left and right, jiggling it in the lock, and trying to get the bolt to turn. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door unlocked and the relieved 12-year-old scurried into the hall, closing the door behind him with an audible click.

Meanwhile, Tichy returned to the desk and began to work on Marek's bottom. The man was still cursing himself for his lapse in judgment. The only saving grace was that the wound was high enough up Marek's buttocks that the sobbing boy wouldn't have to sit directly on it in class. Tichy was aware that a squirming, fidgeting boy would attract the attention of his teachers and possibly result in a trip to the nurse. It had happened before.

He patted the edges of the boy's wound with a cloth, then daubed some healing ointment across the whole of it with his finger as Marek flinched and gasped at his touch. The thick ointment had the effect of sealing the little fissures in Marek's skin to prevent any further bleeding.

After replacing the first-aid materials in the cabinet, Tichy returned to the desk and retrieved the cane from the floor where Radek had dropped it.

"You have four more coming in your punishment, and then we'll talk," he advised as he moved into position behind the boy.

Marek's hands clenched into fists as he prepared for the resumption of his chastisement. He still wasn't entirely sure what had occurred but judging from the pain he felt and the medical attention he already had received from Tichy, he had a pretty good idea.

Tichy proceed to apply the remaining strokes to Marek's backside with a practiced skill, leaving four parallel, horizontal lines across the youngster's buttocks below the single glistening, blistered stripe. He already had decided not to cross the stripes with the sixth stroke, and if the force of the four he did apply was perhaps a bit reduced from his normal velocity, he never would admit that to anyone other than himself, and perhaps not even then.

"Go and lock the door," he instructed the sobbing boy. "Your punishment is over."

Tichy watched as Marek removed himself from the desk and made his way slowly to the floor. Shaking, and sobbing softly, he crawled to his destination with his welted bottom out, and his nose low to the carpet. Arriving at the door, he knelt up, and locked it. The angry, horizontal red line across the upper portion of the boy's buttocks was distinctly visible from across the room.

Tichy lit a Startka as the door was locked once more. "Come here, Marek. No crawling – you can stand and walk." he instructed as he beckoned the boy to come within arm's reach. "We're going to have a conversation here, you and I."

"You've spoken to Skala," said Tichy as the naked, lachrymose boy drew near and stood unhappily by the side of Tichy's desk. "I gather you already know about your mother. I'm sorry to hear she's unwell. You also know that you're spending Christmas with me and most importantly, that I played an important role in bringing you here to the school. I wasn't in a hurry to tell you that, but since Skala already did, I thought I may as well explain things in a bit more detail. We've been working together for quite a few weeks, now, and I suppose you're ready to hear what I have to say."

"You hate this school, and you hate me, Marek, but I brought you here for a reason," Tichy began. "In Vacenovice, you would have continued to be stifled by the legacy of your traitor father and your Nazi-collaborator grandfather, unable to come to terms with their crimes and unaware of the impact those transgressions have on you, personally. Imagine living out your life there, never learning about their dark legacy, never coming to terms with it, and never stepping out of their shadows. Here, you have a future, as Skala, I think, pointed out. You're being forced to face your dark heritage, yes, but understand this: If you follow my rules and work hard at redemption, you'll come out at the other end with a clean slate and an untainted future."

"Your family, I suspect, and many in Vacenovice are Catholic, aren't they? You could almost think of your life up until now as a form of purgatory. You're a stuck soul – tainted, of course, but innocent enough at core to achieve redemption through the right means. You think I only found a place for you here because I hate you, but it's actually much more complicated than that. I'll punish and test you while you're here, certainly, but at the end of the day, I believe in progress, and ultimately, equality for all. I'm a true socialist and I think that one day you will have suffered enough and worked hard enough to earn your redemption, and when that happens, you'll be a better boy and eventually a better man for it.

"Given your mother's situation, Skala and I have agreed that you'll stay with me over the break – and it really will be a break for you," continued Tichy. "We both know you have some catching up to do on your schoolwork, Marek, but I'll let you cum as a Christmas gift, and we really will go skiing. You'll also suck my cock, and be fucked, and of course be tested on some things and punished if you disobey, but none of that can possibly come as a surprise to you. Between now and then, if you follow my rules and don't try and pull some stupid stunt, you'll have a nice week. But if you try to run and I have to catch you, I'll stuff you in a fucking matchbox, and that's how you'll spend your Christmas week, screaming yourself hoarse in a special form of Hell that you can't escape. So that's your one task from me over the next week — no copping out, no running away."

The boy didn't believe a word the man said about his next week being a nice one. Was Tichy kidding? He didn't have nice weeks here. He didn't even have nice days. Didn't Tichy understand that the entire school hated him? How could he not? Tichy and Hanák had told his classmates awful things about Marek's grandfather and turned the entire student body against him. A nice week before Christmas and a stupid cartridge necklace weren't going to fix that.

Tichy had even tried to make staying alone with him for two weeks sound like fun. Sure, I'll fuck you, make you suck me, beat you, and punish you, but it will all be great fun, you'll see! We'll go skiing together, and I won't even make you be naked when we do it! Why, we'll have so much fun, I'll even let you cum on Christmas day without being beaten to a pulp! Doesn't that sound like a grand time, Marek? Just you and me, maybe a little ginger root and the cane, or some acid for your cock and ass? Why, the two weeks will go by in the snap because you'll just be having so much fun!

"So, what do you have to say?" concluded Tichy. "What do you want to ask? This is your opportunity to speak and ask any questions that may be on your mind."

Marek gave no reaction as Tichy confirmed what Skala had told him. Marek already knew it was true from the matter-of-fact way that Skala had explained it. Skala had thought it was fine, but what the headmaster obviously didn't know was that Tichy had brought Marek here to the school to use as his personal sex slave and to torment and torture him for what Marek's grandfather had done to his parents so many decades ago. The man didn't know how vengeful and evil Tichy's intention were. Nobody here did, except for Marek and his tormentor.

The boy wasn't about to talk back to Tichy, but he didn't believe a word the man said about redemption or any of that other crap. He knew why Tichy had brought him here, and he was not — most definitely not — going to stay. It wasn't just Tichy. The thought of spending two weeks in the man's clutches absolutely terrified the boy, but he also was undeniably homesick. He missed his friends and family, and the thought of returning home to Vacenovice at the break was the one thing that had sustained him through his darkest times. He wasn't doing well in his classes. He had no friends here. He simply had to get home. He needed to get home. Once he was home, nobody would make him go back. Even Tichy couldn't make him go back. He would kill himself before he did that.

But Marek knew instinctively that he could not give Tichy any indication of what he was thinking. The man already seemed to know that Marek had considered running away. He would have to play it cool, not just with Tichy, but with Radek, as well. In the meantime, however, he would devise a plan. He was going to run away from the internat, and he was going to make it home. There simply were no other options.

"Nothing, sir," he answered the man in a neutral, but pain-filled voice. He didn't want to arouse any suspicions by asking questions. Plus, his bottom was killing him, and he wanted to get back to his dorm and lie on his bed.

"Well then," said Tichy, who seemed a little surprised, "just as long as you don't do something stupid, boy. Remember, you're being watched. And I don't mean just by Radek right now."

"All right, clothes on, you're free to go," Tichy continued. "Come at eight o'clock tomorrow — that is eight o'clock sharp, or 2000 hours in military terms – understood? Come to my flat. It'll be just the two of us. And in case you've lost count, your punishment week is almost over. You have one more day tomorrow and you're done. Your week before Christmas should actually be a relaxed week – a nice week for you — if you don't mess it up," reminded Tichy.

"Yes, sir," said Marek as Tichy instructed him about the eight o'clock hour. He wouldn't forget the time again. His voice was neutral. Neutral and non-confrontational. Agreeable. He would be there, and he would obey. He would obey Radek, too. He would obey anyone and everyone, and then he would be gone forever, never to return to this place.

Notwithstanding his encouraging words to Marek, Tichy knew boys, and he could tell that the Hurta kid was not going to play ball. Tichy grabbed Tauš almost immediately after Marek left his office, followed by Zdenek, and some of the other TBs. Tichy gave them all clear instructions. He had already informed the main gate to keep an eye on the boy, using the excuse that Marek might worry about his mother and try to abscond so he could visit her in the asylum – even though Tichy knew such a visit wasn't even possible. He also had Radek observing and reporting, and he thought about putting Ludmila on the task, too, for what limited time slots she was available. She would appreciate a mission and could end up proving herself to be reliable that way. It was going to be hard for Marek to make a move. Harder than he even anticipated. But for now, the boy was free. Even Tichy couldn't justify punishing him for something he hadn't yet done.

For his part, Marek also sensed that something wasn't quite right. It seemed that Tichy suspected that he was up to something. But how could he? Marek didn't yet have a plan, but Tichy already seemed suspicious. The man always seemed to be a step ahead of him and always seemed to outsmart him and foil his plans. Not this time. This time, Tichy could not win. Marek simply couldn't fail. He had to get home, and he literally was willing to die trying.

Marek left Tichy and returned to his dorm room. He pretended to study as he considered his options and tried to come up with a workable plan. In a way, Tichy had helped him by letting on that he was suspicious and reminding Marek that he was being watched. Marek knew that he would have to be ingenious and crafty to pull off what he intended. But Tichy couldn't watch him full time. Nobody could.

Radek didn't demand anything of him in the time that followed, and neither did anyone else. Even if some of the boys still wanted to mock and tease Marek about the panties, about being descended from a long line of traitorous Hurtas, or just about everything else, no one dared push it as far as invading his dorm room, especially not after what had happened to Nikola the day before. Radek still was feeling sorry for Marek about his mother's situation and his upcoming Christmas of doom, so the boy was free to do whatever he wanted. Of course, Marek knew that if he wanted to stay out of trouble regarding his grades, he should probably have done some real homework and studying. The last week before the break presented a higher risk of being verbally examined, as most teachers were unlikely to push any new curriculum on the boys and just wanted to review old material.

Marek decided to take a walk. "See you at dinner," he told Radek as he donned his winter coat and gloves, then left the room. He descended the staircase and left the building, then walked to the gymnasium before heading down the concrete walk that led to the edge of campus and the main road to Brod. Tichy had made him crawl this same route naked, on hands and knees, when he had terrorized the boy so completely only a few weeks ago, but this time Marek was there alone. Was anyone watching him? If it were somehow unlocked or he had the key, he could open the gate right now and just keep on walking. Leaving the school grounds unescorted was strictly forbidden, but who could stop him? He reached for the gate as if to open it, before verifying that it was, indeed locked. Turning suddenly, he looked behind him, but nobody was there.

But eyes could be on him, and Marek realized that. Now was not the time, this was not the place, and in any event, the gate was locked. He would have to wait. Marek walked back toward the main campus, taking a different route, walking around behind the administrative building and the canteen. There was no reason for him to be here, either, but nobody stopped him – nobody even seemed to notice him. A delivery truck was parked behind the canteen and the rear door to the canteen's kitchen was propped open. Marek watched the driver emerge from the building with a hand truck. The back of the truck was filled with foodstuffs, and Marek watched as the man wrestled five boxes of something to the edge of the bed, then jumped down to the pavement and began stacking the boxes on the hand truck before wheeling the load back inside the canteen. Marek took note of all this.

All the while, Marek was being watched, just as he had been warned. Ludmila, by then the main spy on duty, saw him test the upper back gate and go around the administrative building to watch the truck being unloaded. She waited until he was back in the dorm to report to Tichy. Then it was Radek's responsibility to watch Marek closely. But already, by taking his walk and traveling into areas that were off limits to the boys, especially without supervision, he was in trouble. Within an hour of Marek's little walk, Tichy had been informed about his every move and was now certain the boy would try to escape. He could press Marek about it, punish the kid, and forbid him from being alone at any point. He could keep Marek under constant surveillance and even make the boy ask Radek or Tauš to escort him to the toilets when he needed to pee, but Tichy decided to play it differently.

When Marek came at eight o'clock, this time right on the nose, Tichy smiled and beckoned the boy into his apartment as if nothing were amiss.

"I'm glad to see that you are capable of learning, Marek," he said teasingly. "Wait," he said before Marek could even strip. "I know you passed out today, that you didn't take the news about your mother at all well. If you want a day off, you can go. You'll have your punishment day tomorrow and the day after that, instead of today and tomorrow. It's up to you," he said.

Marek had wanted to be seen, and he had gone out of his way to make sure that he was. He knew that Tichy's spies would immediately report him to the man, and that Tichy would know all about it by the time Marek went to see him at the appointed time. Tichy would be furious, of course. He would confront Marek and interrogate him about his plans. At first, Marek would deny that he had been thinking about escaping, but eventually, he would admit it. He would apologize, of course. Beg for forgiveness, even. He would explain that he had been distraught about his mother and not thinking straight. Tichy would punish him for it, and while Marek wasn't looking forward to that, it was critical that Tichy would think that he had nipped Marek's plan in the bud. Marek would then be on his best behavior after that. His very best, spy-tiring, nothing-going-on-here-at-all behavior.

But when he arrived at Tichy's apartment at eight o'clock, Tichy gave no sign of having any idea what Marek had done. Marek was stunned. He must have been seen. He had to have been seen. Unless … Tichy didn't have as much ability to watch him as he claimed he did. Tichy obviously didn't have a clue what he had done, or he would be all over him by now, and he wasn't. In fact, he was being nice for a change. Maybe pigs could fly, after all. But Tichy had been suspicious earlier about what Marek intended. And if he remained that way, Marek's plans easily could come awry. He decided to stick with his script, consequences be damned.

"I- I guess … Mr. Tichy, um, I- I tried to run away today," he told the man. "I'm sorry."

"You tried to run away, right after I specifically told you not to?" Tichy said as he rolled his eyes. "And you're telling me this because … ?" Tichy was genuinely perplexed as to why Marek would volunteer that information. Was he so afraid of being caught that he had chickened out and now hoped his punishment for a feeble and admitted attempt would be lesser one? Or was this a part of a ruse, a double bluff that Tichy wasn't quite seeing? Tichy wasn't sure, but the kid had been acting strangely and seemed to be up to something.

"Go on, Marek, explain yourself. Both the trying-to-run-away part, and the telling-me-even-though-I-didn't-even-ask part." He looked hard at the boy. Tichy was offering him slack for fuck's sake. He didn't want him too exhausted and distraught beyond functioning. Tomorrow was Friday. He could have dished stuff out to him on the weekend and given him a real chance for an easier week. Now this.

Marek looked nervous, and he was. He wasn't sure exactly what he was doing, but somehow, he knew it was critical that Tichy not suspect that he was going to try to escape. Tichy already suspected something, and Marek knew that the man was relentless. He wouldn't stop until he either caught Marek in the act or he was certain that the boy wouldn't try anything. Marek had to throw Tichy off his trail. He had to lull the man into believing that Marek was willing to stay at the internat not just over the break, but into the second term.

"I- I was upset," he told the man. "I really wanted to go home and see my mother. I went to the rear gate and tried to open it. I'm not even sure what I wanted to do. But it was locked, and … ," he said, his voice trailing off. He shrugged. "I know it was stupid. It was really stupid, Mr. Tichy. I guess I'm telling you because I thought maybe someone would have seen me, and eventually they would tell you, and I'd get in even more trouble. I wasn't really going to do it. I'm better now. I- I want to stay here over the break. With you. I haven't skied in a long time, but I'd like to go again."

Marek knew he was pouring it on a bit thick with the skiing comment, so he decided he had better shut up and see how Tichy reacted to his explanation.

"Fine," said Tichy. "As I said earlier, I understand you had a rough day. You didn't actually run, and that's that." He didn't even sound too angry. "I'll cut you slack today, but understand, if you give it a serious go – if you try again — you can't play the freshly distressed card again, Marek. If you give it a real go, things will be very, very bad for you. I'm happy to let you off with a warning today, but you know I'm a serious man. You know I have my means, my methods. You have no reason to doubt that I'm serious."

"I know, I'm sorry," said the seemingly chastened boy. "I was just upset, sir. I really wanted to go home and see my mother over the break. I wasn't thinking straight. It won't happen again, sir."

Marek wasn't sure if his plan had worked, or not. Tichy hadn't exploded in anger, so perhaps it had. Time would tell. But from now on, Marek would be on his best, Tichy-pleasing, behavior. He might even try to study some, not that his grades mattered one bit to him at this point.

"Now, do you want to be punished today or postpone it by a day?" Tichy asked. He eyed Marek suspiciously and a bit skeptically. "Given what you've just told me about your behavior, I think it might be a good idea for you to go for today. I'll spank you tomorrow, instead. Hmm?"

"Yes, thank you, sir," said Marek agreeably and politely. He was on his best behavior and seemed almost eager to schedule his punishment. "What time tomorrow, sir. I'll be right on time."

"Eight o'clock," Tichy replied. "If you need to talk to me about anything, meet me at four o'clock in my office, but your regular session will be at eight right here. Don't be late. Don't mess up. Go have a long shower and a good night's sleep," said Tichy as he dismissed the boy.

Even as he watched Marek depart, Tichy knew something was afoot. Their conversation had been too awkward, too canned, too out of character for them both. Tichy's instincts told him that Marek was going to try. He was going to make a run for it. So be it. He wouldn't make it far, and Tichy wasn't about to lose any sleep over it. He didn't think Marek would go at night, as it was very cold out this time of year. The morning was most likely a choice for a boy facing a long, eight- or nine-hour train ride home. The only question was when the kid would make his move.

Marek left for the evening, more than a bit surprised not to be walking stiffly with a freshly battered backside. He had been willing to ante up another beating in furtherance of his escape plan, but Tichy seemed to have bought his apology, his contriteness, and his explanation. It felt good for once to be the manipulator instead of the one being manipulated. Tichy was smart, and he had a lot of advantages and allies, but Marek wasn't dumb, either. Two could play at Tichy's game, and Marek felt like he had just decisively won the last round.

Marek knew that he simply had to escape this place. He had no choice. His very survival depended on it. It wasn't just the two weeks he would have to spend one-one-one with Tichy in the man's apartment being beaten, abused, tortured, and fucked. That would be bad, and just the thought of it was terrifying to the boy. But even worse was the knowledge that if he didn't manage to escape, he would be stuck at the internat for the second term. He would never survive that. Tichy would kill him, either accidentally or by design. Either that, or between Tichy and his schoolmates, he would be driven insane with incessant physical abuse and mental torment. Marek already could feel himself losing control of his emotions and cracking. The only thing that had prevented a breakdown so far was the idea that he could go home at the break, never to return. With his mother's latest episode and hospitalization, that hope had been dashed – unless Marek could make it home on his own.

And then there was the matter of his grades. They had nosedived over the past two weeks, even as Tichy had warned him to keep them up. Marek couldn't help it. Time spent with Tichy cut into his available study hours. Time spent recovering from what Tichy did to him meant even more hours spent unable to sleep either from pain or fear. Marek's acute need for sexual release also left him flustered and unable to concentrate. He hardly paid attention to his teachers anymore. It had been nothing more than luck that had prevented him from getting zeros on oral tests; he simply hadn't been selected for testing in the last two weeks. But he would be, soon enough. And when Tichy found out about his grades, there would be hell to pay. It was too late to get them up now, even if he somehow found the energy to apply himself to his studies.

Marek returned to his dorm room and sat at his desk, thinking and plotting. He knew that he either would succeed in his plan or die in the attempt. Being caught by Tichy was not an option. Not a survivable one, anyway. The man would kill him. He would torture him to death. As Tichy himself had put it, he had his means and methods. Marek well knew what he meant and what those were, as he had experienced some of them firsthand. Those had been bad enough. It was the ones he hadn't experienced and didn't even know about that scared him the most.

Marek couldn't have studied even if he had wanted to as Radek wanted a blowjob before bed. It took Marek nearly 30 minutes – spent with a damned shirt draped over his head once again – before the red-haired kid came in his mouth. At least Radek didn't demand corner time afterwards or put Marek to any additional humiliations. It seemed that everyone was feeling sorry for him today about his mother.

Marek only wished he could feel sympathy toward his mother, but when he thought of her, all that came to mind was anger and a sense of betrayal. She had let him down again. The first time had been by sending him to this hellhole torture chamber of a school without telling him about his grandfather's legacy. The second time was by having another nervous breakdown just when he needed her the most. It was hard for Marek not to blame her for his plight. She apparently had fallen for Tichy's sweet talk about how well her son would do returning to the place of his birth for school, but now Marek was trapped here, hated, friendless, tormented, and unable to return home. It was a nightmare.

Tichy made a few more arrangements that evening. He made sure that someone was always on Marek, and that in the times where it was most likely he would try to escape, early to mid-morning, it was always at least two people. He made sure his Trabant was fueled and the battery wasn't dead despite the frost in case he needed to drive. But most importantly, he phoned his old friend, Frantisek, and had a long, and at this point hypothetical conversation with him.

"We actually have one planned sometime in the next week or so, exact date to be determined." Frantisek told Tichy with a chuckle. "I like to keep them on their toes, so as long as it's before the 23^rd you can count on me, Standa. This will be fun and different."

Well, that was that. Tichy smiled and sighed a deep breath of relief as he hung up the telephone. He could relax completely now, what little tension that was left was mostly a cheerful, positive sort of a thrill. Thanks to Frantisek, he had the perfect solution to the situation – and one that would most certainly help his reputation here at the school. Marek wouldn't know what hit him – at least until he got back to the school. Then he would know what was hitting him, for sure.

After his call with Frantisek, Tichy prepared a few copies of a file on Marek, including his school photo and a cutout of a recent photo Tichy had taken himself. Marek was naked in that one, but not yet covered in cum, and the photo didn't really reveal that as it only portrayed his face, neck, and a part of his shoulders. As far as anyone knew, the boy easily could have been in a gym outfit or just shirtless when it was taken, instead of stark naked at a boy orgy. Tichy put the photos together with copies of the information sheets in envelopes, then rubbed his hands in delight. This felt good. Suddenly he really did feel like he worked for a branch of the STB.

Now all he had to do was to wait for Marek to try to make his escape. The way things were looking now, he secretly hoped that he hadn't frightened the boy out of it, though he never would admit that to anyone. He certainly didn't need an excuse to torment the fuck out of Hurta this Christmas, but if Marek was going to serve himself up to Tichy on a silver platter despite being warned explicitly not to run, why not enjoy the feast, right?

Tichy had a long shower and went to sleep, getting up early to go to his office, from which he could scan a good area of the grounds. He wanted to remind Radek, Tauš and others to remain vigilant, but he didn't want to appear nervous or worried. In truth, he was more excited than anything else. In his 10 years at the internat, it was unusual for him to have such an unpredictable element in the game – a real risk in a way – but the wanna-be cop in Tichy liked the idea of a prison break and the resulting excitement of the chase. Tichy had more than stacked the deck in his favor, and if things worked according to his plan, Marek wouldn't stand a chance, but the slight element of uncertainty certainly made things interesting.

Marek bided his time, trying to keep to as normal a schedule as possible over the next few days. It helped that he didn't have to report to Tichy for daily sessions. He had gotten through two additional punishment days with Tichy, and then the man had released him from any further sessions, telling him to study, warning him of the consequences of poor grades. Marek suddenly had his evenings free, and he did study some, but he spent much of his time re-thinking his plan and counting his money — he had 18 koruna total, but he knew that Radek had 15 more stuffed in his desk drawer.

Unlike Tichy, Radek did not lay off him during exam week. He even added a third blowjob to the daily total, shrugging and rather lamely explaining that since Marek didn't need to go see Tichy in the evenings now, he would have extra time to perform for Radek each day. Marek did so without complaint, and Radek's other commands didn't involve anything terribly challenging, perhaps on orders from Tichy. Marek assumed that Radek was continuing to report to the man each day about his behavior, but he couldn't be sure.

As for his daily activities, it did not seem that he was being watched, but he also couldn't be sure about that. He did his best to learn the time that the early delivery truck usually came and dropped off at the canteen each day. It was almost always between 10 and 11 a.m. Marek had Hanák during that hour.

Tichy was certain the boy was going to make a run for it, and to ensure that he did so during Frantisek's window, he had scheduled Marek for another eight o'clock session on Wednesday, less than a week before Christmas. Other than that — since he was confident that Marek would run and give him an excuse to unleash hell — Tichy eased off the boy. It was a blowjob and a light spanking on Saturday, followed by some crawling around, foot licking and a well-lubed ass-fucking with a good amount of prep. It was one of those almost-painless fucks that left the boy's cock dripping, craving for a release that just wouldn't come.

After that, Tichy told the kid to just keep behaving, keep obeying Radek, but focus on learning as well and as much as he could. There was no bullying, Radek didn't want anything other than the three blowjobs a day, and so it was that Tichy almost disappeared off Marek's map for that last week at the school. If Marek had been very observant, he may have noticed Smallpox in places she didn't normally seem to frequent, or one of the Tichy's boys following him, or hanging around in the same area, anyway. Radek was gone every day at five o'clock for some ten, fifteen minutes, not exactly subtle about still reporting to Tichy, so that no longer was a mystery.

Wednesday, December 20, 1978: That was the day that Marek selected for his departure. Tichy had told him to come to his apartment at 8 o'clock that evening to plan for the break, but Marek would not be there. By that time, if everything went according to plan, he would be home in Moravia or very close to it. That Wednesday, everyone would be in classes. The mood would be subdued, without much real teaching going on. Everyone already seemed to have their minds focused on the break and Christmas. As far as escape dates went, it wasn't a bad pick at all.

Marek wrote a note to Radek, apologizing for stealing from the boy, and promising to pay him back. He planned to do so, too, because Marek wasn't a thief. He felt bad lifting the kid's money, but this was an emergency. Besides, he was pretty sure that Radek could ask his father for more whenever he needed it.

Wednesday morning dawned. Marek went to breakfast and ate a full meal. He went to his first class. Then it was time for Hanák's class, but Marek wasn't there. He made as if he had forgotten his pencils and eraser and strode quickly down the hall to a window where he could see the west-facing side of the canteen building. The truck was already there, and the rear doors were open! It was now or never! Marek walked briskly further down the hall, then left the building through the utility door and sprinted for the truck. His heart was racing as he climbed in and secreted himself behind some boxes deep inside, near to the cab.

Marek made himself as small as possible in the back of the truck as his heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. He was terrified, but fully committed. He was leaving the internat forever. He could not be caught. He would not be. He had to get home. He simply had to make it home or die in the attempt. This was not the way he had planned to do it, but he could barely contain his excitement about leaving the internat and returning to Vacenovice. The first part of his plan had gone off without a hitch. Now, if he could just make it out the gates of the internat, he was confident that he could make it home.

True to form, the delivery man merely hoisted his hand truck into the back and closed the rear doors of the delivery truck. It was instantly nearly pitch black inside the truck, with only a couple of spots for light to get in — the seam of the door, and a spot along the roof line where the truck was no longer fully sealed. Marek felt the truck's engine start up, and then it lurched forward and began to move. It was cold in the truck, but Marek was on his way! He had never felt so free — and so scared — in his life.

As the truck started to move, Tichy peeled himself from the nearby window, jotted the license plate into a small, ring-bound notepad, and strode towards his office. Moments later, he was on the phone.

"Frantisek – it's me. Hare is on the loose. I repeat, Hare is on the loose. It's hunting time! First clue, LIF-23-65, a dark-blue Avia lorry." Moments later, Tichy hung up the telephone.

If Marek had any idea what happened just seconds after that he likely would have shit his pants and puked up his breakfast right where he was sitting, unseen by the sleepy, careless, bored driver who was in no hurry to be out of his cab for too long in the cold, winter air. Phones rang and tires screeched as people reacted to the news. A black Skoda skidded to a halt in front of the school's main gate and Tichy, with a playful smile, handed a pile of envelopes to the driver, then walked back towards the school to teach his usual p.e. class. He usually didn't smoke before or just after exercise, but that morning he lit up a cigarette, and his stinky little Startka felt like a fancy Havana cigar in his smiling mouth.

Marek couldn't see a damn thing, but he sat still, and when the truck slowed and then started up again, he was pretty darn sure that the vehicle had driven right through the main gate, away from the internat! He was free! Not home, not by a long shot, but free. That was the hard part, he knew — just getting away from the school, away from Tichy and his spies, away from Radek and the TBs. Now he had a chance. If he could make it to Prague, he could get to Brno. And if he had to, he would walk home from Brno — literally walk home. He knew the way.

The truck began to drive again in earnest, now apparently out on a real road, as the engine strained to gather speed. The ride was rough and bumpy as well as cold, but it was the best damn ride that Marek had ever taken! He loved the truck! He loved the driver! And he didn't care where it was going, not at all. Wherever it ended up, he knew he could get to Prague, probably even before Tichy knew he was gone. He was pretty sure no one had seen him.

The back of the lorry was cold – teeth-chattering cold – but the old Avia was so loud, between its rumbling wheels and roaring engine, that Marek could have been doing jumping jacks in the back and the driver wouldn't have stood a chance of detecting him. The storage compartment was totally separate from the cab, with no view, and with almost no light once the door was shut. The lorry rumbled through the cold grey morning on its way to the nursing school in Lomnice.

This was good. It had worked, and it was still working! Prague awaited. Prague, Brno, and home. Now the only question was, where was the truck going, and could Marek jump out without the driver seeing him? But first things first. For now, Marek had another little thing to attend to — well, not so little, if he was being fair to himself. About 4" [10cm] of something to take care of, as he unbuttoned his trousers, tugged them and his underpants off his hips, and began to masturbate, freely and without a care, for the first time in several weeks. He sighed as his hand began to play with his stiffening penis. The cold air was no match for the weeks of denial. The knowledge that he could jerk off without fear of repercussions from Tichy made the sensation feel even better.

Back at PISKG, Tichy taught his class, for the most part letting the third-year boys just horse around. He had a shower, went to lunch, and then had another conversation with Frantisek on the phone while sipping on a good, strong coffee. He put extra sugar in it today, and as he took his first few sips, he wondered when Skala or anyone else who mattered at the school was going to figure out that Marek was missing. So far, no one even seemed to suspect that the school was a boy short. Clearly there was a broader security issue here that needed to be addressed. If Marek were an idiot and didn't wear a coat and jumped off that lorry into a snowy ditch, breaking a leg, he'd be dead in an hour. Tichy knew that the boy was smarter than that, but some future kid — quite possibly a kid with a very sore ass – might not be. He'd have to talk to Skala about that and tighten up the reporting system.

It didn't take Marek long to finish doing his business in the back of the lumbering Avia. His dick had been deprived of pleasure for so long that his balls were aching with need. He stroked himself hard and fast, as if making up for lost time, and in less than a minute he had turned to the side and painted a cardboard box with his cum — at least that's what it felt like to the boy as he spent spurt after spurt after spurt into the air. It felt good, and there was an immediate sense of relief, too. It had been a long, long time. Tichy could absolutely fuck himself.

By the time Drábek sent a boy with notes to Skala and Tichy when Marek missed his first afternoon session with no explantion, no note from the nurse or anything, the lorry already had stopped in Lomnice at the side gate of the girls' school. The driver opened the back, grabbed a crate, and shuffled off, leaving an easy window of opportunity for Marek to jump out and make a dash for it.

After cumming, Marek had quickly got himself back together by tugging his underpants and trousers back into place. The boy had lost sense of time, and he couldn't read his watch, but it seemed like a good long time had passed since the truck had left the school. They had been on the open road since then, with the truck bumping and rattling its way at a decent clip. Then the truck slowed, and they seemed to be turning a lot, as if on the streets of a town or a city. When it finally came to a stop, Marek went down flat on his back, his heart thumping in his chest. The doors opened, and light once again flooded the compartment. Marek remained still, blinking, as he heard scraping sounds, and then … silence. Beautiful, beautiful silence. He sat up, and seeing nothing, he scrambled to his feet and was out of the truck in a flash. Nobody had noticed him! He was sure of it! The driver was nowhere to be seen!

He ran, then. Running and running some more for the simple joy of it. He was in a town. But what town? He looked for a name anywhere but didn't find one. Regardless, it had to have a train station. Walking now, he started to head toward what seemed like the busiest part of town.

Lomnice was marginally less cold than the hills above Zelezny Brod, but still freezing. It was a quiet and serene little town, the stillness broken only by a random military helicopter roaring by overhead. It turned out to be easy for Marek to find out where he was. By a stroke of luck, because the school was near the town center, he soon ran past the municipal office, which had a big sign for the Lomnice Town Hall, so that mystery was solved. He had never been to the town, but it wasn't big. Even without asking for directions, he could probably stumble upon some railroad tracks and find the station within half an hour – or be there in ten minutes if he dared to ask someone.

As Marek dashed through the gritted, slushing streets Tichy was in Skala's office, reassuring the man it was going to be okay.

"It'll be fine," he smiled at the man. "I suspected the boy was going to be a handful, so I have my best people on the case."

Skala looked at him, baffled and frowning.

"What do you mean, Standa? Your best people?"

"All right, my best friend's best people. Some of the best in the Republic, or so he would say, anyway."

Five minutes later, Skala had forgiven Tichy for not telling him right away about Marek's departure. Tichy didn't bother to tell the other man that he had known about the kid's escape attempt even earlier than he let on, literally from the moment Marek got in the lorry. Instead, he poured two large glasses of Armenian cognac from his special stash and the men raised their glasses.

"To peace and socialism," said Tichy before Skala could say anything, and the man just echoed him.

"Sometimes I think you're wasted as an employee of mine," chuckled Skala as he took a sip.

Marek found an elderly pensioner leaving the bakery and asked her for directions to the train station. She provided them readily enough, apparently not thinking much of anything about a young boy out alone on the streets of the town in the middle of a school day. It was now well after 11:00 a.m. It turned out that the station wasn't very far, and Marek made it there inside of 10 minutes.

He was nervous but excited beyond belief as he approached the ticket window. The older, overweight, balding, 60-something man with plastic-framed glasses stared back at him from under his visor.

"Please, sir, how much is a ticket to Prague?" he asked.

The man eyed him suspiciously, perhaps even hostilely. "There are no trains to the capital from this station, young man. What business do you have in Prague on a school day?"

No trains to Prague? How could that be?

"I'm visiting my aunt, who's ill," Marek replied. He had practiced for that. He had not practiced for a train station that did not have a train leaving for Prague.

"How can I get to Prague, then?" he asked the man.

"You can take the commuter train to Jicin," replied the man. "You can take the intercity train from there to the capital."

"How far is Jicin?" asked the boy. It was clear from his accent and his ignorance that he was not from these parts, and the man seemed to be growing impatient with him.

"Not far," said the man dismissively. "Where are your parents, boy?"

Suddenly the man backed away from the glass barrier deeper into the ticket office, his expression wide-eyed with astonishment. There was a lot of noise behind Marek. Simultaneously, several men in Czech army uniforms stormed into the small waiting hall from the platform and from the outside. They carried automatic weapons and wore heavy leather boots. Instead of steel helmets, they wore red berets, identifying them as soldiers from the 71^st Czechoslovak Paratroops.

Marek turned around, already wide-eyed at the commotion, and for the second time in the last 10 days, he almost passed out. Charging right at him — right at him — seemed like the entire Czech army. Full uniforms, guns, the whole bit. But he didn't pass out, and as the men came charging at him, all Marek could think was what the man in the ticket window could possibly have done to merit a military take down of his train station. The men looked like they were going to bowl him over just to get to the guy, and at the last moment, Marek tried to turn to the side and make himself at least thinner, as the soldiers charged by him.

They didn't charge by him. Instead, two of them grabbed Marek tightly, one on each side. He felt himself lifted in the air like a toddler. He nearly fainted again, but it seemed that his brain wanted to hang around for a bit longer just so it could figure out what the hell was going on. The soldiers carried him through the waiting room back outside, where two army trucks, a pair of motorcycles, and a command car stood parked, together with a small army of soldiers still combing the area. Another helicopter roared overhead. The air was heavy with crackling static and radio reports.

"Put me down … stop!" he heard himself say, as the men carried him to one of the trucks and lifted him in. They piled in after him, several of them, many of them, and propelled him toward the back. No! He couldn't go with them! He had to get to the train! No, no!

He tried to dash through them, hoping to make the greatest soccer run up field that the sport had ever seen, weaving between them, making for the gate at the back of the truck …

He didn't get far. A hand on his collar wrenched him back like an errant puppy on a leash.

"It isn't every day we get to catch an actual spy, and not just one of us playing the part," grinned one of the men who grabbed him.

"Let me go!" Marek said, with fear in his voice this time. The men didn't understand. He wasn't a spy! This was ridiculous! He struggled to free himself, but soon found himself seated between two burly soldiers, with eight others filing in behind him filling up the truck. Its engine roared to life, and they were on the move.

"Don't piss yourself, kiddo, unless you have already," said one of the men. "All these," he pointed at the rifles, "are only loaded with blanks. We know you're just a momma's boy and a school runaway, but unlike the police, we don't even have to drag you to a station to file a report, so you'll be back at the school in a jiffy. You didn't even get on the train," he added with a chuckle. "Standa will have you back before supper time. Guess I win that bet."

"Luckily, we had maneuvers scheduled and got permission to take a zoom through Lomnice, eh?" the man continued. "In Jicin, we'd have had to alert the People's Militia, and they'd probably consider it less of a sport to have to come and fetch you. Ciggie?" he grinned and lit up, offering a short, no-filter Startka to Marek with a grin. "Can't get in any more trouble than you're already in right now, can you?"

When one of the men who had grabbed him said the word "Standa," Marek froze. He knew what it was all about then. His blood ran cold as he again dove toward the tailgate just as it was being lifted and locked in place, but the hand on his collar held him tight.

"Let me goooooooooo!" he demanded in a terrified voice. That's when the tears came.

No, he didn't want a cigarette. He felt tingly all over and began to moan in distress. This was … bad. Very bad. Very unexpectedly sudden and bad. Tichy was going to kill him. He was going to torture him mercilessly first, and then kill him.

As the truck started to move, Marek again dove for the open tailgate, but several hands latched on and stopped him.

"Please," he sobbed, as he reached for it. "I just wanna go home. I just wanna go hooooome!"

"A determined little pup," commented one of the soldiers nearer to the tailgate.

"Yeah, Standa said he might kick and bite and that he's a soccer player, a tough kid, and that we don't have to go too easy on him," chuckled the guy who was now holding his upper arm in a vice-like grip with the hand that wasn't holding a cigarette. "I wouldn't rough up a twelve-year-old, but if Standa had to put up with these antics for half a year, I'm not surprised he'd be tempted," commented the man and several of the others laughed.

"I hear you boys believe comrade Tichy secretly works for the STB and is a very important man in the party, much more so than he lets on," the man spoke to Marek now, "I don't think that rumor's going to die down any time soon now, is it?" he said as he burst out laughing.

The men never let go of Marek, not once for the remainder of the journey. Had they, even for an instant, Marek would have thrown himself over the open tailgate of the army lorry and out onto the pavement, and they would be taking the corpse of a 12-year-old back to the school. Marek would have much preferred it that way to what he knew he would be facing upon his return. He was absolutely terrified of seeing Tichy again.

"Now calm yourself down, kid," said the talkative soldier, who seemed to be over the moon at having recaptured a 12-year-old, runaway schoolboy. "If this thing ever got out of hand, out of our range and you got picked up by the VB [Author's note: Verejna Bezpecnost, Czech police], you could have spent Christmas in a police cell with junkies, vagabonds, and such lot, coming back to school in the new year with fleas and a case of scabbies. You got lucky there. You were always going to get caught and this was the better option. Now quit fussing and wailing, will you?"

Marek felt very close to passing out again. His head was spinning. How had Tichy done this to him? How did he have the army on his side? It was so far beyond unfair it was ridiculous. It was then that Marek realized, fully, that he was in terrible, terrible, terrible trouble. He was in trouble so bad that it would make his past troubles and transgressions seem like a walk in the park by comparison. Tichy had as much as told him what he would do to him if he tried to run.

The soldiers were all laughing and smiling like this was the most fun they'd had all month. Didn't they realize what they were doing? Tichy was going to torture him to death, and they thought it was funny. It was hilarious to them.

"No- no, please," Marek said as he began struggling once again. He wanted the soldiers to stop laughing. To listen.

"Please … please help me," he begged through his tears. "He's gonna kill me — please. He- he beats me. He beats me every day. Please don't take me back there. He hates me! He hates me and he brought me here- he brought me here to hurt me. Please. Please."

If the soldiers weren't having such a laugh at Marek's expense, they might just have detected the tone of high distress and unadulterated terror in the boy's voice as he struggled to throw himself from the truck onto the roadbed below.

Colonel Frantisek Horny frowned and shook Marek a bit.

"This is the bit where you shut up, traitor's son, before I get the impression that you're trying to smear the name of a very good friend," he said darkly as his grip on Marek's upper arm turned painful. "Don't think I don't know who you are, you little weasel. Ludek Hurta isn't an unknown name in these circles," he said as he cocked his head around, "and most of us still have parents and family members who remember the Glass King's wartime tyranny. You keep this up and I might yet change my mind about roughing up a twelve-year-old and start treating you like a real spy."

Marek Hurta winced in pain as the very strong man squeezed his arm in a very strong grip, causing him to bend slightly at the waist from the pain. The soldiers weren't negotiating. They knew who Marek was. They knew about his father, and his grandfather, and they were going to take him back to Tichy to be tortured, no matter what Marek did or said. Marek's eyes glistened with tears at the hopelessness of his situation. He wished he were dead. "He beats me," he said in a whispered voice, almost to himself. "He tortures me." But the laughter of the soldiers drowned out his whispered words.

"Chill, boss," said the soldier sitting on the bench opposite theirs. "You know that kids in serious trouble tend to get into a panic. If he thought it would spare him a hiding, he'd be telling us he's from the Moon and the grandson of President Husak." The soldier then directed his attention to Marek. "You deserve to get your ass beat, kid," he added. "Now shush."

The military truck was faster than the Alto and took a more direct route. Relative to the long-seeming drive in the lorry, they were back at the internat quite soon. Too soon. Nobody gave Marek another chance to escape before he was hefted up and dragged out of the truck.

Tichy was standing there, waiting for him. Marek pulled against the soldiers as they dragged him to the man. Marek couldn't even look at him. He cowered as Tichy held him by the collar of his shirt and coat in one hand, and by his upper arm in the other, while he spoke and joked with the soldiers. Marek's eyes were downcast at the snow-dusted pavement the entire time. He couldn't stop crying and trembling. His feet tingled with dread.

As Tichy saluted Horny, Skala watched the proceedings from inside the main gate. A few friendly jokes and shouts later, the soldiers were gone and Tichy started to drag Marek towards the staff wing of the internat. He had made a deal with Skala that since he had sorted this little problem out without there being any record of it with the police or social services, he could deal with Marek in the aftermath, and that's what he was going to do.

Marek couldn't make his legs move right as Tichy started to walk him back to the building, but that didn't even seem to slow Tichy down. Marek felt himself conveyed along by the man's purposeful strides. The boy let out a soft whimper as it became obvious that they were not heading to the dorms, but instead to Tichy's apartment.

Meanwhile, Marek's arrival back at the school had been witnessed by Dobroslav Pokorny and Jiri Kader, who sprinted back to the dorms to spread the news. They virtually burst into Radek's room, breathless and excited.

"Dude, they caught your roommate," panted Pokorny. "They just brought him back through the main gate in an army truck."

"What?" replied Radek, as Kader ducked back into the hall to spread the exciting news to the other first-year boys.

"Not kidding," said Pokorny as he put his hands on his knees and panted for air. Like Radek, he was a slightly chubby boy and not in the best of shape. "Army truck, soldiers. Had to be at least 10 of 'em. Red berets, too. Parachute troops."

Radek shook his head in confusion. "Wait … why would the army bring him back?"

"Dunno," replied the other boy. "Tichy was talking to the officer guy. Jiri and me saw Tichy salute him when they handed Hurta over. Tichy was waiting for them like he knew they were coming."

"You really mean the army?" asked Radek, who still was skeptical of the story.

"Seriously, I saw it too," said Jiri, who had returned to the doorway after assembling a small coterie of first-year boys to hear the news. "There were like 15 of 'em, with automatic weapons, too. They brought Hurta back in an army truck and gave him to Tichy. Saw it with my own two eyes."

"Is he coming back here?" asked Radek. "Kid stole 15 koruna from me before he left and I ain't happy about it."

"Nah, Tichy was taking him somewhere," said Jiri. "I bet he gets his ass whooped again."

There was general agreement among the boys that an ass-whooping was in store for Marek, and deservedly so. They all knew that leaving the grounds of the internat was strictly prohibited without both permission and an adult escort from the faculty or staff. Running away from the school, as Marek appeared to have done, was as bizarre as it was unheard of, and it was just further evidence that there was something very peculiar about the Glass King's grandson, who apparently thought that he was special and that the rules that applied to everyone else didn't apply to him. If any of the assembled boys – such as Radek Kinter — knew that there was a bit more to the story than that, they didn't let on.

Chapter 17

Tichy dragged Marek into the staff wing, up into his flat, and as good as tossed him through the door before locking it behind him and pocketing the key. Marek could do nothing as the man dragged him to his doom. He tried to walk but given Tichy's grip on him, it wouldn't have mattered to their gait or arrival time if he had simply stopped moving his feet altogether. He stumbled into the apartment, almost falling, but managed to regain his footing. He was, after all, a footballer – or had been, anyway. All of that seemed like a past life now.

Tichy looked at Marek, suddenly seeming oddly calm. Marek looked up at the man now, somehow mustering the energy to lock eyes and hold his gaze. But Tichy simply walked away toward the kitchen, put the kettle on the gas stove, pulled out two mugs, and threw a couple of tea bags in them.

"How do you take your tea? Milk or lemon? Sugar?" he asked in a normal, almost-friendly tone. He didn't seem to be faking his calm, either. It almost seemed like he had been playing up his anger and acting a bit as he had dragged Marek to his apartment.

Marek was stunned. Was this the calm before the storm? Would this be his ceremonial last drink?

"Lemon … and one sugar, sir," he replied. This was strange, but he would play along. It beat several alternatives that came readily to his mind.

Tichy made his cup of tea with milk and two sugars, then prepared one for Marek to order and sat down at the kitchen table. A stack of full-sized envelopes sat in the middle of the table.

"Sit down," he told the wary boy. "Aren't you curious as to why you aren't already bound, stuffed in a panicky tight space, coated in tiger balm, and being beaten? Let's talk."

Marek was stunned. "Yes," Marek replied. "Yes, sir," he added quickly as he began to move. What was going on? Why hadn't those things already happened?

Marek found himself walking to the man's kitchen table and sitting down like a normal person. He didn't think he had ever been in Tichy's kitchen before when he wasn't already naked, either on his hands and knees or flat on his back on the floor.

"Well," said Tichy, "obviously, you're going to be punished. Quite thoroughly, of course. And painfully. And you'll not get rid of me from this moment on till after the holidays. We both know that. We also know that I have several horrific, terrifying ways in which I could torture you and I can very much do them all. I can tickle you until you wet yourself and pass out with breathlessness. Squash you until you shit yourself with the panic of it. I could rub tiger balm in your eyes and all over your body. You'd be blind for at least a few days, but maybe that would stop you from nonsense like running away after I specifically told you not to. I could go on, Marek. I did warn you."

Marek felt small in the chair as he swallowed nervously and listened to what Tichy had to say. His tea sat undrunk on the table before him as Tichy reviewed the punishments and tortures that were available to use on him. The boy knew that there were those and several more. Why Tichy hadn't started in on him right away and why they were having a little chat over tea in his kitchen was a bit lost on him, but he knew that with Tichy, he should expect the unexpected as well as the impossible. Unexpected is when the army tracks you down with soldiers and drags you back to school in the back of a truck. Impossible is when you know everything that is going to happen before it even happens. The man knew everything. He knew things he couldn't know. He knew things that Marek was going to think before he thought them. He knew where Marek was, and where he was going, before the boy himself knew. So, what was his angle now? Why wasn't Tichy already punishing him?

"Now," continued Tichy, "if I do my worst, right away – if you know that every one of those things will happen to you in the worst possible, most intense way, and that I have days and days to do them all to you – you really don't have much of a reason to stay alive, let alone obey me and play along nicely, now do you? So, before we start on that, I wanted you to see something, first."

Tichy picked up the top envelope from the pile in the middle of the table and slid it toward Marek. "This one doesn't have an address," he told the boy. "The others do. Addresses and stamps, ready to be dispatched the moment I choose to send them. One to your mum, one to your aunt, one to the headmaster of your old school, and three to random boys from your old school whose addresses I pulled out of the register. Seven envelopes, all with different addresses, Marek, but the same exact contents," he explained. "Look for yourself."

With a sinking feeling, Marek took the proffered envelope and opened the unsealed flap. He stuck his hand inside and drew out the contents. The envelope contained several big, glossy, black-and-white photos. Marek knew what they were even before his eyes focused in on the top one. There he was, in all his glory. The photo was big. It was clear. It was unmistakably him.

Indeed, inside the envelope were twelve of the best photographs – or the worst, depending on how you looked at it – from the four rolls of film Tichy had taken after Marek's initiation. They depicted Marek sucking cock. Marek tonguing ass. Marek being fucked in the ass. Marek with his mouth open, cum spilling over his lower lip. Marek skewered between two boys, his mouth and ass both full of cock. Several of the images included his dick, sometimes in direct view, sometimes blurry and out of focus, but each time fully erect.

There was a typed letter inside with the twelve pictures, too. It was short and unsigned. After all, it didn't need to say much. With a trembling hand, Marek picked up the letter. He read it, every word. It didn't take him long.

"This is what we caught Marek doing," was all it said.

Marek didn't want to see all the photos, but he picked them up, anyway, and looked through them slowly, one by one. The photos told an undeniable story. It wasn't even close to a true story, but given what the photos appeared to depict, not one person ever born or yet to be conceived would believe the true story, and Marek well knew it. Tichy had been masterful.

The man let Marek study the photos for a few minutes in silence, then spread the remaining envelopes across the table so Marek could see the addresses he had written on them. He didn't know if any of the three boys he had selected at random to receive the envelopes were among Marek's friends, but the odds were high that they at least were acquainted.

"They're all the same – take a look," said Tichy, as he gestured at the unsealed envelopes arrayed before the boy.

Marek picked up the envelope addressed to Lojza Dvorak. He knew the other boy, and the boy knew him. Tichy the All-Knowing apparently wasn't aware that Lojza went by his middle name of Juro, but Marek knew that that wouldn't prevent the letter from being delivered as addressed. Marek pulled the contents partially out of the envelope, just enough to see. An identical copy of the letter was on top, and Marek could tell from the glossy feel on his fingers and weight of the stack in his hand that identical copies of the photographs were underneath it.

"If you off yourself or try to run away again, I'll go straight to the post office," Tichy declared. "Even if you succeed – even if you manage to jump out of a window and die or run away like an infant and make your way home – this will be your legacy, Marek. It will probably kill your poor mother," he said wistfully, "but I'm sure you know I will not hesitate for a second to do it." He paused to let his words sink in, then looked intensely at the red-faced boy, his eyes boring in.

"My plans for you are not optional," he declared emphatically. "I didn't bring you here for partial redemption. You may not have realized it at the time, but the moment you set foot on this campus in September, you were giving yourself to me for the next four years of your life. We're going to work together to help you overcome your past, but it is going to require your active participation and cooperation. There is no alternative, no other choice to make, and I need you to understand that Marek. There is no other way."

Once again, Tichy paused for a moment to allow his words to resonate with the boy.

"Are we clear? Do you understand things better now?"

Marek couldn't answer the man's question. His mind still was focused on the envelopes and photographs and what they meant to his future if they were mailed. What would his mother think of him? He knew. And his aunt and uncle? The same. What about his classmates and friends? Again, he knew. He slid the stack back inside the envelope and placed it back on the table.

It was laughable, really, and truly overkill on the man's part. Just a single letter to any member of his family would have done the trick. Just a single photo, too. But this … he had to hand it to Tichy. The man obviously had spent considerable time, money, and effort on his little project, just to do this to him. Marek felt numb inside. But he understood, oh, yes, he did. He understood perfectly. Game, set, and match to Tichy.

"I just want to go home," he said softly, as he looked up at the man with dead, defeated eyes. But that wasn't the full truth. Earlier today he had just wanted to go home. Now he just wanted to die.

Tichy passed a small plate of cookies to Marek.

"Eat some," he said. "Drink some tea. You skipped a meal, and you need a bit of energy. When you're finished, take off your clothes, and we can get started with your punishment. But there's one more thing you need to see before we begin," said Tichy calmly.

Marek politely took a cookie and had a few sips of his tea. He was surprised to find that it already was lukewarm; they must have been talking and looking at the contents of the envelopes for longer than he had thought. Tichy drank his tea and ate a cookie as he waited for Marek to do at least a bit of the same, then nodded at the boy when it felt like it was the right time to begin.

Without hesitation, Marek stood and began to remove his clothes. In a few moments, he was naked. He looked so much smaller without his clothes on, and he felt that way, too.

When Marek was completely naked, Tichy led the boy to the bedroom where a strange sort of deflated mummy lay on the floor next to the bed. It looked like a sleeping bag, pretty much exactly in Marek's size, but it was made mostly out of scraps and straps of leather pieced together with bits of thick fabric – a piece of denim here and a piece of corduroy there. It looked messy, but with all the straps and strings in place, it was obvious that this was a body sack in Marek's size, complete with a hood and straight-jacket-style sleeves.

The boy had not been looking forward to seeing "one more thing." He knew that it would not be a good thing, but when he first saw it, it took Marek's young brain a moment to process what it was. When he finally figured it out, his heart rate quickened, and he began to feel short of breath and nauseated. His knees suddenly felt weak. It looked like a medieval torture device, and he knew that it had been designed, sized, and fabricated specifically for him.

"You can be complete immobilized if I put you in there and tighten all the straps," said Tichy. "Totally squashed, totally in the dark, unable to even wiggle. Your breathing would be through just a tube that I can close partway or fully if I want to mess with you some more," he explained in a matter-of-fact tone. He paused for a bit to let the enormity of what he was saying sink in to the claustrophobic boy.

"If you lie to me or disobey a direct order, Marek, that's where you're going," he warned the kid. "I hope you understand that I'm not bluffing or kidding, because I'm not, but if you keep obeying and telling the truth, that's the one punishment I'll let you avoid. This one doesn't have to happen. This one's up to you," emphasized Tichy, "but I need your best behavior from now on."

Marek's condition did not improve as the man explained the sack's uses. In moments, the boy was trembling. His breaths came with difficulty, in shivered inhales and exhales. A small moan of growing panic escaped his lips. He couldn't help it. He knew Tichy would do it to him. He might pretend otherwise, that Marek could avoid it, but he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of making it and not use it. He was going to put Marek in it. There was no escaping this. No escaping the school, Tichy, and body bags with leather straps. This was his fate. The boy felt cornered and trapped.

"Now," said Tichy. "Tell me: Did you break any more rules today, or recently, other than trying to escape? Did you masturbate?" demanded Tichy, wondering if the horny but stressed boy had had time to rub one out.

Marek nodded almost absent mindedly at the man's question. He had broken all the rules, probably; certainly many of them, possibly most of them. It didn't matter. None of that mattered now. Avoiding being placed in that thing was what mattered. It was all that mattered to the boy. It was all he could think about.

"I j-just- I just w-want to go home, Mr. Tichy," he said, as he looked up at the man with dazed, distressed eyes. He shivered. "I- I just want t-to go home."

"Yes, I've noticed," huffed Tichy a little impatiently. "Will you stop repeating that? You're not going anywhere. You're dealing with the mess you caused, now, here, and in the future. And when you next leave, if you ever do, you'll know there's a pile of envelopes that'll be sent out the moment you don't return on time," warned Tichy.

"Now, since when do I let you off with vague nods as answers?" he added sternly. "I'm not some casual mate of yours that you can just shrug off," said the man with a frown. "You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, Marek, and snap out of it. I recommend you come to your senses and remember who you are with and what he can do to you. You made this mess for yourself, and you are going to suffer the consequences for your poor decision-making. You can't say you weren't warned."

"Did you break any other rules, Marek?" persisted Tichy. "If you did, tell me now. Did you wank? Give me full-sentence answers. And you had better remember to call me 'sir.' You're most definitely in punishment mode, starting right now," said Tichy as he walked across the bedroom to the dresser and opened a drawer. He fished out a small, thin, mean-looking whip. He already knew the answer to his first question from the boy's earlier nod, but he wanted Marek to say it out loud, to admit the crimes that he had committed.

Tichy obviously didn't care if he wanted to go home, so Marek shut up. At least the man seemed to be referencing a future where he could go home, someday, eventually. That suggested that he might even survive the next two weeks, although the boy was pretty sure that Tichy would make him wish that he hadn't.

Snapped out of his daze now, Marek decided that it would be best to tell the man everything. Absolutely everything. He would get it all out, let the man do what he wished, and … well … and. Just … and. Tichy would decide what came after the "and" part.

"I broke pretty much all the rules, sir," Marek began, in a remarkably calm voice for a boy facing torture and possible execution. "I haven't been studying. My grades are bad. I haven't been paying attention in class. I- I wanked, but only once, sir, and I'm being honest about that. I didn't wear the panties when I ran away. I haven't been eating, sir. I haven't been sleeping much. I've been having bad dreams. I was alone when I wasn't supposed to be. I stole money from Radek to pay for the train ticket, but I swear I was going to pay him back – I was going to mail him the money, sir. I went places on the campus that were off-limits. I didn't wank, though, definitely not all the way, except for one time when I was in the truck."

It felt good for Marek to get that all off his chest. It was cathartic. He already knew he was dead. Tichy was going to torture him within an inch of his life, so how much worse could it get for him? Like a serial killer confessing to another 40 murders after the first two, what did it matter? It felt good to tell all.

"That's quite a list," acknowledged Tichy, "but other than the attempt at running away, I'm most annoyed about that wank. That has cumulative effects. Not wanking changes how you feel, think, and act, and all that has been ruined now. You also forgot that I told you if you needed to get off, you could come to me, outside of your office punishment sessions, voluntarily. It would have taken some begging, some humiliation, but if you were that desperate, I could have given you some relief. After all, I already gave you one of your best orgasms, didn't I?" teased Tichy.

It was quite a list, and Marek was confident that Tichy wouldn't be happy to hear it. He was a little surprised to find that his furtive wank in the truck was the one transgression that Tichy was most concerned about. How would wanking or not wanking change how someone feels about something? It didn't make sense to Marek. The only thing it made him was desperately horny all the time. But he just listened and didn't say anything or talk back to the man.

"Yes, sir," said the contrite boy. He remembered the cum he had had in Tichy's office. It had been a good one. A really good, one but he wasn't about to go back to Tichy and beg to have it done to him again. That was too homo a concept for Marek, not to mention that it was Mr. Tichy.

"But I'm afraid all of that will have to be punished, Marek," continued Tichy. "Very severely, in fact. You can't say that I didn't warn you. I remember quite specifically telling you what would happen if you tried to run on me, not to mention the consequences for breaking the other rules. I'm still not quite sure what you could have been thinking when you took off. Did you really think that you would make it all the way home without me tracking you down? Really, Marek? Did you really think that? Look me in the eyes and tell me that you thought you had a chance of making it more than 20 kilometers from the school."

Marek's eyes slowly averted downward as the disciplinarian called him out for his terrible decision and undeveloped plan. How had he entertained hopes of success when the odds were so clearly stacked against him? Even without seemingly the entire Czech army at his disposal, Tichy had a lot of resources and capabilities. Marek continually was surprised at how quickly the man unraveled his plans and undermined his defenses. Tichy seemed to know what Marek was thinking before Marek knew himself. Why had he thought it would be any different when he ran away? And, yet, for a couple of hours, he had tasted the sweet elixir of freedom.

Marek looked up at the man. He looked defeated. He felt that way, too.

"I w-wanted to go home s-so bad," he said, as his eyes wet with tears, and he began to sob. "I wanted t-to see my mother and my f-friends. I'm sorry Mr. Tichy. I'm really, really sorry."

Tichy held the boy's gaze in silence until Marek was forced to look away. Marek's teary-eyed contrition was not going to work with him. He had warned the boy. It was time to get started on a long list of punishments that were stacked up in Marek's future like so much cordwood.

"Lie down on the bed, Marek," Tichy directed. "On your back. Diaper position; knees towards your shoulders, hands on the insides of your knees. Feet up and apart, out of the way. I'm going to whip your cock and balls, and unless you want to be tied up tight and hard for it, in which case I will be sure to make it twice as bad, you'll make sure to keep them exposed for more pain, understood?" demanded Tichy as he ran the thin line of the leather whip between his fingertips.

The man gave his instruction, and it was time for Marek's punishment to begin. The boy froze momentarily. Tichy was going to whip him there? Like that? Oh, that was going to hurt. He hadn't expected that. But what could he do? He couldn't escape the man in his own apartment. He couldn't make another run for it. He had no choice but to submit. He eyed the whip unhappily as he climbed onto the bed. It looked like it was going to hurt a lot.

Marek knew he already had pushed his luck with the man beyond the breaking point, but there was a question he simply had to ask. Well, two questions, but first, he lay down on the bed on his back and grabbed his legs behind his knees. There was simply no use in disobeying now. Marek had an unhappy expression on this face as he pulled his legs back and looked up at the man. Tichy seemed to be almost massaging the whip in anticipation of using it on him.

"Mr. Tichy, I'm not trying to get out of it," Marek said, before adding "sir." "I know you're going to do it to me. Can I just ask you a question before you start?"

"Ask away, but don't stall, ask while you're in the proper position," demanded Tichy as he pushed Marek's legs back and reached for the kid's junk to make sure it was hanging over towards his butt, exposed and not stuck between his legs. He arranged the boy's cock and balls almost like a flower in a vase, tugging and pulling until he was happy at just how perfectly exposed and vulnerable the boy's goods were. Then he picked up the whip once again.

"So?" he asked the kid. He seemed very ready to begin the punishment but was more than happy to answer a question before he began, or even during the punishment, if it were a long and philosophical sort of inquiry.

Marek did what he was told. He pulled his legs all the way back, exposing his cock and balls for the man to position and adjust to his heart's content. It was almost surreal. The man was going to whip him there of all places, and Marek was just supposed to lie there and let him. Which is exactly what Marek was going to do, because the consequences of not doing it would be profoundly worse. The boy was in terrible trouble already, and he knew it. He didn't want to make it any worse.

"How did you get the army to do that, sir?" the boy asked, clearly still impressed, and surprised at both the speed and the drama of his recapture. He was, after all, 12 years old, and like all boys his age, he was fascinated with anything related to the military. Marek hoped that Tichy would give him a second question, but he had to know the answer to that one at a minimum if the man were willing to tell him.

"I know the colonel, and I know stuff," said Tichy. "Such as when some soldiers might be having a drill and available for a bit of fun. Did you really thing you could escape, Marek?" he persisted. "I warned you not to try. You should know by now that I have friends in unexpected places. Don't ever underestimate me. If you at some point attempt to rat me out, or try to report me, it'll more than likely backfire and blast you right back in the face. You've already proven you're not a player – or much of a player, anyway. And, well, I am a player, and a well-connected one, at that."

Marek listened avidly to Tichy's response. The boy liked anything related to the military, and while he hadn't liked what the soldiers had done to him, he was impressed that Tichy had a friend who was a colonel in the parachute regiment. He shook his head as the man surmised that he might one day try to tell on him. He wouldn't try to do that. Not after what he had witnessed today. After today, he had no doubt that Tichy was a player with connections. Many connections.

Marek wished he had just one connection. He would settle for half a connection. It seemed that most everyone at this school had connections, or knew somebody who did, or had some hook into the party, but not Marek. He had his mother, and … his mother. She had no connections at all. Maybe his Aunt Martina and his Uncle Richard, too, but they weren't really connections. You couldn't really call the army out with them when you needed help with something. Besides, they didn't even want him anymore.

Tichy flexed the whip in his hands before continuing. "This is going to hurt – bad. So bad that you won't want to touch yourself down there for at least the next couple of days. The next time you even think about wanking, I hope you'll remember the pain you caused yourself. Maybe it will change your mind about wanking even if I'm not there to punish you right away."

"This is what we're going to work on over the next two weeks, Marek: punishments that you will remember for a very long time and that will make you think twice before you disobey me again. When we're done with this one, you will not go to the nurse," he warned. "You might piss a bit of blood, but you'll be fine. You'll survive and not have any permanent consequences, at least not physical ones," explained Tichy in a calm but determined tone.

Marek nodded as the man warned him about the whip. He hadn't really been playing with himself, pretty much aside from the truck wank. He had been too afraid. Now he was very afraid. The man's comments about pissing blood and not going to the nurse scared the hell out of him.

Tichy stretched the whip like a sling, and let it flick, rapidly, against Marek's balls. It was a brief, lighter, but very fast and stingy and biting sort of flick, and it hit the mark, striking the boy right on both testicles.

Marek gasped as the whip hit his little balls. "Owwww," he said as much to himself as anyone else. His legs shifted and swayed a bit on the bed, but he kept them apart.

"Can I ask one more question, about something you said?" he asked in a tight, pain-filled voice. "About bringing me here to the school?"

"Hmmm, okay, but don't expect me to stop with your punishment now," said Tichy, and let the boy talk, before pulling at the whip again to create a good bit of tension and flicking it against Marek's junk once again, this time mostly getting the boy's dick, although more on the shaft and not directly on the glans as he had intended. Still, he knew these fast, biting flicks would hurt. Not as bad as an actual full-force whipping, but he wanted to tenderize Marek a bit and work him up towards obedience and acceptance of the pain. He was ready to listen, and even talk, but every five or six seconds, the boy got another painful, stinging flick on his genitals. The ones that hit a testicle hurt the most so far, though in a shallower, stingier way than being kicked in the balls.

The whip hurt, but then again, Marek knew it would. If there was a saving grace to it, it didn't hurt nearly as much as some of the other things Tichy had at his disposal to hurt Marek with, including the cane, the slipper, the little vial of tiger acid, the ginger root, or even his cock, for that matter. The boy knew that he would be getting the man's cock soon enough, and probably a lot of it over two weeks. He couldn't even hope to avoid that, but he could hope to avoid the other things, which weren't even the worst things Tichy could do to him. There were other things that the man could do that were worse than any of those, and those Marek wouldn't just hope to avoid, he would pray to avoid them with every fiber of his being. Included in those prayers would be the strange, patchwork sleeping-sack thing, the use of which Tichy had explained earlier in vivid detail.

"Owwww!" Marek gasped, as the whip hit home again. Once again, his feet wobbled as he thought about closing his knees, but he knew that would not go over well with Tichy. He was worried that he might, anyway. Maybe he should try not to look, so he wouldn't know when the blows were coming.

"Thwittt!"

"Ahhhh," moaned the boy.

"When you said – "

"Thwittt!"

"Ahhhh. When you said someday you would let me go – when you thought I had suff – "

"Thwittt!"

" … suffered enough, how long, I mean, how long did – "

"Thwittt!"

"uhh … did you mean?"

"Well, obviously, I have a maximum of four years to really have an impact on your character," mused Tichy as he stopped hurting the kid long enough to answer the question. "I was kind of hoping that you'd be on the straight and narrow by the last year or year and a half of that, with me just keeping an eye on you but not really being needed. In fact, I hoped most of your need for punishments would be over in a year from now or so. But so far, I've only had limited chance to punish you in a working-for-forgiveness sort of way. Most of the time, like for example right now, you're being punished for the things you've done – punishments that you seriously deserve."

"Feel free to ask me this question again sometime, but not when you're about to spend the next two weeks being punished for your running-away stunt," continued Tichy. "There certainly is learning to be had here – things for you to discover about yourself, and the possibility of a good future – but right now, that's miles, and miles away. For now, and for the next two weeks, at least, you'd be better served to focus on being the best, most-obedient boy you can possibly be."

The answer to Marek's question was not what the boy was hoping for. The man was speaking casually about years of torment, not weeks, months, or even terms. He was talking years. And he could do it, too. He had Marek trapped. The boy couldn't leave the school, couldn't get home, and if he did somehow manage to make it home and didn't come back, Tichy would see that his life was ruined. Even if his mother didn't throw him out and disown him, his life would still be ruined because of what those photographs depicted him doing. So, he couldn't go home, couldn't escape, and would have to deal with Tichy for what seemed like forever. "Miles away," the man had said. Freedom indeed seemed miles, and miles away for Marek.

"Now take a deep breath and make sure you won't bite your tongue if you bite down," continued Tichy. "Keep your knees apart. You've had enough of a warm-up; these will really hurt now," he warned.

The whip hurt, especially where it nicked the same spot twice, but so far it hadn't been too bad. It sounded like that was all about to change. Marek took a deep breath, but how was he supposed to stop himself from biting his tongue?

Tichy sized up the boy's genitals and took aim. Rather than just flicking the whip from a stationary position, Tichy now used it like a whip, adding a strong flick of the wrist and a bit of arm motion to the mix, so it wasn't just the tip that impacted Marek's genitals with speed and force, but a whole lot of the leather, leaving not just a dot this time, but an angry red line across Marek's balls.

The whip lashed down, and … oh fuck did it hurt! Marek's eyes watered. His knees closed as he moaned. He closed his eyes against the pain, then forced himself to open his legs once again. He didn't want to be tied down for this. But how many times was Tichy planning to hit him with it? This was worse, far worse, almost as bad as all the warm-up flicks put together, and other than stinging on his skin like a motherfucker, it had that underlying ache to it, reminiscent of being kicked in the balls.

"Why do I … " he gasped. "Why do I need forgiveness … if I didn't do the things you said?"

"Let's not get into philosophy," replied Tichy, whose patience for Marek's questions was running out. "In short, you've just proven, in a way – by trying to trick me into believing you had already attempted an escape and then actually escaping – how strong Ludek Hurta's traitorous blood is in you. It's in your genes. I believe in a balance of nature and nurture. You have bad genes and a bad, bourgeois early influence. It'll take hard drill in servitude and some suffering to counteract all that and turn you into a good socialist citizen," was as much as Tichy was ready to say.

"Discussion over for now," he added, to emphasize the point.

Tears wet Marek's eyes, as much from the pain of the whipping as from the things Tichy had said about his father and his lineage. Marek had never even known his father, and when he had asked family members about what happened to him and why, he was shushed up and told that he needn't talk about such things. What, exactly, had his father done? People called him a traitor – just today, the army officer had, and Tichy had, too. How could he be cursed with an evil grandfather and a traitorous father? Maybe Tichy was right. Maybe he was rotten to the core. Maybe he could never escape the legacy and influence of the blood that ran through his veins. Maybe he even deserved to be beaten for it, but Marek didn't think so. He still didn't think it was fair.

Marek groaned in pain from the whip and in misery from the man's response, but he managed to keep from covering up and once again presented his exposed genitals to the man for more punishment.

"Yes, exactly," said Tichy. "That's a bit better now. Present those balls for more pain. Show that you know you deserve it," emphasized Tichy as he whipped Marek again. And as soon as he was back in position, he did it again, and then again after that. The third blow landed downwards over the boy's cock, the bulk of the pain on the glans, even hitting the piss slit. Tichy was proud of his aim there, even if there was an element of luck to it.

The discussion was over, but not the whipping. Marek took three more painful blows on his goods, closing his legs after each time only to open them again for more, lest the man tie him down. He did not want to be tied down. He did not want to be secured in any way. The last one across his penis hurt and burned terribly.

"Ahhhhhhhhh," he gasped, as a fresh set of tears glistened his eyes once again. His legs closed, but he shakily opened them once again for more. Tichy kept at it, too.

"You do not cum without my permission!" SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"Uhhhhhh!"

"You do not wank without my permission!" SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"Huhhh huhhhh!"

"If you need to cum, you come begging, and you pray for the best, and if you're made to wait, you will wait." SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"Eeeeeeeeee!"

"You deserve this pain. You had no excuse. You knew you shouldn't, and you did it anyway!" SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Marek screamed as he closed his legs.

"Bad boy! Keep them exposed!!!" SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"Mr. Tichyyyy, please," Marek begged as he forced his shaking knees open once again. Oh, it really hurt now. Not in a teasing, nibbling, warm-up kind of way, but in a deep-seated, achy, whippy, fiery kind of way. There was both the initial sting of the whip, and the dull, aching pain of having his balls whacked. Marek was in tears, and he started to shake as he prayed for it to come to an end. It grew more and more difficult for him to open his knees again after each blow, but he forced himself each time. As much as the whip hurt, he was fearful of what Tichy might do to him if he disobeyed the man again.

"Give up the idea that you can't take anymore. Don't think you can stop this. You can only keep taking it, or make it worse for yourself if you don't," announced Tichy and whipped across Marek's crotch again, once again getting nearly the whole of his cock pretty well in the process. SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"Expose them. Not done." SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"Mr. Tichyyyyyyyyy!" Marek sobbed as he spread his legs again.

The whip was thin and single-stranded, and Tichy was aiming it pretty damn well. Marek's crotch – specifically, his cock and balls – was a mess of glowing red lines that were now crossing each other, even overlapping. His balls were starting to swell up some, too.

"Again! You don't decide, you just take it. Expose!" SFFFTT-WHUCK!

Marek was bawling and blubbering now, his body shuddering with every blow. He felt like he had been kicked in the balls repeatedly – like that time he had taken a free kick right between his legs, right up into the vee of his crotch. He had almost passed out then from the pain, but it had gotten better as he first rolled around on the field, and then flopped about on the sidelines after his coach had carried him there. But this kept getting worse! Tichy wasn't stopping, even though Marek was at the end of his endurance.

"Mr. Tichyyyyyyyyy! Please!"

And then, it happened. He saw the whip coming and closed his knees, deflecting it. He couldn't help it. "Please! I'm sorrreeee!" he said as he forced himself to spread his shaky legs once again. His entire body was trembling now. "I won't run away again!" he squealed.

"Expose," demanded Tichy. "This isn't for running way. This is still just for wanking," emphasized Tichy. "That last one didn't count, and you get an extra one for closing your legs. Expose your balls. Do not resist. You deserve this. You did this to yourself. This is your fault. And it's almost over, so don't be an idiot and make it worse for yourself now!" warned Tichy. "Show 'em!" he said as he readied the whip again. He was ready to strike, fast and hard as soon as Marek obeyed.

Marek moaned with unhappiness as he sobbed and opened his legs once more – although not as wide as before, almost as if he reserved the right to try and close them again. The news that he wasn't even being punished for running away filled the boy with dread. What would Tichy do to him for that? The next blow landed, flush and hard, and Marek screamed.

"Aiyeeeeeeeeeeeeee!. Please Mr. Tichyyyyy!" he begged as he forced himself, with difficulty, to open them yet again.

SFFFTT-WHUCK! Tichy didn't hesitate and as Marek exposed himself again, he didn't then, either. SFFFTT-WHUCK!

"That was quite well taken, save for that blip towards the end," the man allowed. "Last one. Spread wide. Knees right up to your shoulders. Don't mess up," warned Tichy as he waited for Marek to obey. "Wider. Higher!"

Marek was sobbing and shaking. He whimpered with dread as the man revealed that there would be one more blow to come. The boy's testicles already were striped and swollen, and he felt sick to his stomach. Trembling, he forced his knees back, closed his eyes, and spread his feet apart.

Tichy reached down and rearranged the boy's junk to his liking, giving the sensitive flesh a squeeze, not too hard but enough to cause more pain. Then he moved back and slightly turned his shoulders, really putting his body and a whole lot of momentum behind the last strike, planning to deliver it with as much force as possible. Marek opened his eyes again but quickly looked away as the man raised the whip. His knees swung shut momentarily, but then opened again shakily for what he prayed would be the last time.

Tichy was aiming for Marek's glans again, wanting to make that last one count, but he mostly got the shaft and the swollen flesh between his testicles, none of the super sensitive bits he was very much aiming for. But the whip sang home, impacting on the boy's scrotum and bringing forth a squeal of pain.

To Marek's immense relief, the leather flail had not hit his balls nor scourged his piss slit, and for that, he counted himself lucky. Still holding his knees and shaking, he waited for confirmation that he could lower his legs. He was sobbing and whimpering from the pain. He vowed then and there that he would never, ever wank again. One hundred of the best wanks wouldn't be worth going through that again.

He wondered if he should have lied to Tichy about wanking in the truck, but he knew that Tichy somehow would know the truth and beat him even more for lying. Tichy knew everything. He seemed all-powerful to Marek. There was nothing he couldn't do. Trying to oppose him was stupid and futile. Efforts to stand up to him usually ended in screams of pain. The man was determined to make Marek suffer for the sins of his father and grandfather, and as utterly unfair as that was, Marek couldn't think of a way to avoid his fate. He had already tried everything he could think of, and nothing had worked.

What scared him the most, though, was what the man had just said a minute before. This punishment was only for wanking; it wasn't for running away. Tichy had threatened severe punishment if he tried to run, and Marek had done it, anyway. This whipping had been bad enough, but what else did Tichy have planned for him? To this point, Tichy had been careful not to hurt him so much that he couldn't attend classes or meals. But what would the man do to him when those no longer were concerns? By Friday, there would be nobody left at the school to protect Marek. There'd be nobody to see or know if Tichy really hurt him. And Marek was aware that Tichy could really, really hurt him. What worried him the most was not knowing what the man planned to do.

Tichy looked at Marek's balls and cock, which were now swollen and covered in scarlet and crimson lines. They looked well-punished. He finally put the small whip down.

"You can get up now," he told the boy. "Do not slip up again. If there's a next time, I'll have to use a full-sized whip, or maybe just snip your marbles right off. I hope you have learned your lesson here," he added and glanced at his watch. "And needless to say, by running away and especially by breaking this important rule, you have lost the chance of getting a really nice, punishment-free cum on Stedry Vecer [Author's note: Christmas Eve]," added Tichy.

Marek couldn't stop sobbing, whimpering, and trembling. The pain in his genitals was both biting and achy, and his swollen, battered balls looked foreign to him. He had no doubt that they would ache and hurt for a long, long time. He knew he had brought this on himself, and that made the pain even worse. This had been avoidable, and he hadn't avoided it. Cumming was not worth this. If the man commanded it, he would never cum again so long as he lived.

"I won't," Marek whimpered and sobbed, shaking his head in the negative as he rose from the bed. Had he learned his lesson? Most definitely. "I- I learned it, Mr. Tichy," he gasped. God, it hurt. It hurt, hurt, hurt.

Tichy fished in a drawer for a clean pair of Marek's panties, then grinned and instead pulled out the tiny, tight, undersized ones from Marek's first panty challenge.

"There," he said as he tossed them to the boy. "Put them on, and pull them right up, too. Give yourself a bit of a wedgie. That'll serve to remind you. Now get dressed. It's almost supper time. Your other punishments will have to wait until later," announced Tichy.

With worried, this-can't-be true eyes, Marek approached the man, wary and cowering, and caught the panties from him. They were the original, tight ones. The boy nodded and sobbed as Tichy instructed him. Marek already knew that the panties would feel uncomfortably tight against his battered testicles.

"Yes, sir," the crying boy nodded, as he went to step into his panties. He was right: They were tight, and they did hurt. They hurt even more when Tichy decided the wedgie he had given himself wasn't good enough and yanked them up hard.

"Let's go, get dressed" said Tichy moments later. "Until further notice, you and I are always in the same room. Direct line of sight. You do not move outside of a five-foot [1.5 M] radius from me. Where I go, you go."

As soon as Marek was dressed, Tichy steered him down the hall, out, and to the canteen. He sent him to eat at a table near the teachers' table and sat in a way that allowed him to monitor the boy during the meal. He didn't think Marek would be foolish enough to make another run for it, but he was serious when he said that the boy would not be allowed out of his sight.

Marek knew he would be in public soon enough, so he did his best to get his sobbing under control. He dried his cheeks and eyes with the backs of his hands as Tichy led him out of the apartment, with Marek now pigeon walking due to the pain in his balls. He was dreading being seen by his classmates. He could only imagine what the other boys thought of him now. Nobody had ever tried to run away from the internat before – not that Marek knew of, not that anyone knew of. The other boys probably thought he had gone mad. The only one of them who might understand was Radek, but Marek didn't think he would get much sympathy from the boy after he had stolen 15 koruny from his desk drawer. Everyone would think he was crazy and spoiled, a coddled bourgeois, which is exactly what Tichy wanted them to think. They wouldn't know what the man had done to him and made him do. They wouldn't know what had driven him to run away.

In the canteen, it was exactly as Marek expected it would be. The invisible bubble around him had doubled in size. The other boys stared at him like he was from outer space. They could probably tell he had been crying, too, but none of them would be surprised about that given Tichy's reputation. The stares he had been getting before now intensified, and there were fearful, awe-filled glances at Tichy, too. If the man could bring the elite, parachute unit to fetch a runaway boy, what else could he do? Was there anything he couldn't do? The false rumors about boys who displeased him disappearing without a trace were running wild once again, especially among the first-year boys.

After several minutes of Marek eating alone, Tomáš finally sat next to him, breaking the seemingly impenetrable barrier around him.

"You bloody idiot," he said, but with a friendly smile and in a light, perhaps somewhat teasing tone of voice. "At least you're back in one piece, and still in one piece by the looks of it, after spending the best part of an hour alone with Tichy," he added in a whisper. "So, spill the beans. What the hell happened? How did you end up getting dragged in here by the red berets? Did you try to fly to Brno astride a nuclear missile, Baron Munchausen style?" he chuckled.

Marek shook his head. "They got me at the train station," he told Tomáš wearily. "I thought they were raiding it for something, but it was me they wanted." Marek poked at his food. He wasn't hungry, and he was terribly worried.

"How mad do you think he is?" he whispered desperately to the other boy. "I'm really scared what he's going do to me."

"He's probably white-hot pissed and he'll be more pissed if you don't eat," said Tomáš. "He won't kill you or disfigure you. Probably. But that was a dumb thing to do, dude. Actually, no; trying to sneak something past Tichy – quietly and privately, below the radar – is dumb. This was full-on, Maxov-level crazy [Author's note: Liberec insane asylum], dude."

At the older boy's prompt, Marek immediately dug into his food, but his stomach was clenched with worry and his balls ached, so he found it very difficult to get much of it down. As Tomáš continued, Marek fully realized the complete lunacy of his escape plan. He had been so longing for home and so focused on the mission that he hadn't been thinking straight. Now he was miserably contemplating his punishment for it.

"One would think that you've already gotten this bit, but," Tomáš said as he lowered his volume to a conspiratorial whisper, "he's an egotistical maniac and a control freak. Let him feel like he's the boss, a god, whatever else he wants to be. Play your part, be good, and you'll make it through. Don't give him any excuses to keep piling the punishments on. I think sometimes when he has a plan, he's actually annoyed when he has to punish someone more than he had thought he would, like when they mess up during the process. So be good. Do whatever it takes. Be pathetic – no offense, but you know what I mean. Now would be a very stupid time to try and be a hero," opined Tomáš.

Marek listened carefully to what the other boy had to say. Despite having been at the school for well over three months now, this was the first time that anyone had ever taken the time to explain how any of it worked. Even though he was technically a Tichy boy, he still didn't know how that club worked, and he was pretty darn sure that he wasn't a full-fledged member of it, either. More like an honorary, cum-dump member. But now, listening to Tomáš talk, he felt like he had a much better understanding of Tichy. He wished someone had told him this before. Now that he was facing the prospect of painful, horrific punishments, he very much wished he could take back his attempt to run away.

"Did you really think you could make it halfway across Czechoslovakia with a handful of change in your pocket, with no one even helping you or anything?" the older boy continued. "I'm not calling you stupid, but maybe this'll make you re-think your attitude about friends. You need friends and allies, no matter where, no matter when. If you don't trust us," he touched his cartridge, "that's fine, but find someone else. You'll go nuts if you try to go at it alone. And I don't mean grand escapes, but even just cracking on with business as usual," he advised sagely.

Marek paused for a moment to ponder the other boy's words. "I thought I could … I thought maybe I could … oh, it was just stupid," Marek said. He was angry with himself. "I'm really scared, Tomáš," he added as his eyes glistened with tears. "He has me for over two weeks. He's going to torture me for running away. He's going to hurt me."

"Yeah, he is," shrugged Tomáš. "What do you want me to say?" He leaned in closer to Marek. "The only other bit of advice that comes to mind is, keep his balls drained," he whispered. "Suck him. Let him fuck you. Suck him again. Volunteer to do it, even. Make it extra nice. Whenever you get a chance, get him off. It mellows him out and makes him a bit lazy. When he's balls deep inside you, he won't do that much to you and is less likely to go nuts on you right after, as well. Other than that, you've been stupid. You'll suffer. But you still need to be here, alive, with ten fingers and ten toes and everything else in place come January so … you know. Freaking out about it isn't going to help."

Tomáš's answer was not what Marek wanted to hear. He swallowed nervously as a cloud of dread seemed to descend over his entire body.

"I don't c-care if he beats me," he said in a nervous voice. "I can take that now. It's the other stuff he does to me … ," he said as his voice trailed off. "If I panic, he'll get even angrier." His face blanched at the thought. "But I can't help it."

Their conversation could only be stretched so far, and around them, the canteen turned busy.

"Eat," reminded Tomáš again. "Which part of not giving him extra excuses didn't you get?"

Marek stared at his food like it was a mortal enemy, as if it were present on his plate only to vex him and make him suffer more. Now he felt if he ate another bite, he would be sick. But at the older boy's urging, Marek forced himself to not only to take another bite, but also to swallow it down.

A few minutes later, Tichy appeared behind Marek and cleared his throat. "Ready to go?" he demanded coolly. Marek's plate still was half full. Tichy sighed at the half-finished supper but nodded at Marek anyway. Having the kid poke around his plate any further wasn't likely to make much difference.

"Let's go," said the man.

Marek already was trembling as he stood up from the table. He had never been so scared in his entire life. The thought of spending two weeks alone with Tichy had frightened him even before his escape attempt, but now it had taken on new proportions of terror that seemed to threaten his very sanity.

It was to the boy's immense, incredible relief that Tichy seemed to be taking him back to his dorm rather than to the man's apartment. There were two more overnights before the other boys went home and the dorms closed for the break. If Tichy let him stay in his room those nights, perhaps the routine would calm his nerves a bit and let Tichy's anger subside some before he had to move in with the man. He wasn't at all sure that it would, but it was better than going back to Tichy's apartment, which in Marek's mind had taken on the characteristics of a torture chamber – complete with a body sack that looked like it had been made by a deranged tailor.

Radek was there when they arrived. He already had finished his supper and was sitting at his desk pretending to be studying for a last test, but in truth, he was just moping. He gave Marek an unfriendly look when he and Tichy walked in. It didn't bode well that Tichy locked the door from the inside.

Marek wanted to apologize to Radek. He really did. He hadn't wanted to steal from the boy. But Tichy hadn't given him permission to speak and immediately gave him another command.

"First, this is a punishment, so you know what to do, Marek," said the man.

The boy instantly obeyed, stripping off his clothes without so much as a peep, getting down on all fours, lowering his head, and supplicating himself at Tichy's feet.

"Now, give him his money back," said Tichy firmly to start with, "and your money, too. You won't be needing it. Radek, take your pants off, go sit on the bed and let Marek apologize to you, thoroughly."

Marek knelt up to retrieve the money from his trousers, then froze as Tichy suddenly bent at the waist, grabbed the boy's ear, and pulled Marek close. "Ass first, then balls, and finish with his cock," he whispered. "Lots of eager tongue, and an exceptionally nice blowjob. Keep the cum in your mouth afterwards so you're not tempted to talk." Then he nudged the boy toward Radek.

Blushing with shame at being a thief, Marek reached for his pants and with a trembling hand, extracted his entire stash – 33 Kč – untouched from his not-quite three hours of freedom. He handed the bills to his roommate.

"I'm sorry, Radek," he whispered, as he crawled into position and knelt between the boy's legs to do what Tichy has instructed him to do. But Radek's feet remained firmly planted on the floor. Marek looked up nervously at Tichy, not sure what he should say or do, then turned back to Radek.

"Y-you have to l-lift your knees up f-for me to do this," he stammered.

Radek's eyes immediately went wide with panic. "Wait?" he exclaimed. "What! No, you can't! Mr. Ticheeee?" Radek sounded like he was about to lose it. "Don't let him fuck me, please!"

Tichy chuckled. "He isn't going to. It's just a special-feature, apology blowjob," he said with amusement.

Marek cringed and nearly fainted as Radek reacted the way he did. He already was on edge, and the boy's outburst had caused his heart rate to spike through the roof. He was certain that he would be punished for giving the kid what sounded like an instruction and setting him off, but Tichy merely laughed and then explained the situation.

"Remember," Tichy said to Radek, "always keep an open mind. This doesn't have to happen again if you don't like it, but give things a chance. It's your last chance to have some fun with him until the new year, so relax and enjoy, eh?" he chuckled as Radek reluctantly leaned back and raised his knees, frowning, and clearly quite anxious.

Any irony at the fact that he felt grateful and relieved to have the punishment-free opportunity to rim his roommate was lost on Marek as he leaned his head down and stuck his face in the boy's ass crack. With a look of revulsion on his face, he began to lick the boy's cleft and hole. At least it wasn't hairy. It was instead smooth and hairless, and Marek took a small bit of solace in that.

Marek replayed Tomáš's words of advice in his head as he tongued his roommate's asshole. He licked quickly and with gusto, wanting to show Tichy that he was being fully compliant and utterly obedient, but given the squeaky, huffing, anxious sounds Radek began to make, it sounded like he wasn't a big fan of the activity. Indeed, Radek didn't seem to like it, and Marek instantly was filled with dread once again. Why couldn't anything seem to go right for him? Why couldn't Radek simply love what he was doing and pay him a compliment to Tichy – a compliment that might be a down payment on the new-and-improved Marek Hurta, the one who did what he was fucking told, without hesitation or complaint, and did it well, without trying to shirk his responsibilities and wimp out of it.

Mr. Tichy, the other boy might say, this feels so incredible! Marek's doing a great job, and he seems so eager, I think you should go a little easier on him for running away" But no. Things like that never happened to Marek. If something could go wrong, it would, and Tichy would usually be right there to see it go wrong and punish him for it. Things were going wrong right now because Radek didn't enjoy having his ass licked out.

"It tickles!" Radek complained. Marek wanted to kill him.

"Do it stronger and deeper!" ordered Tichy sternly. "It's not supposed to tickle." Meanwhile, he grabbed Marek's trunk from under the bed and began to empty Marek's cupboard and drawers into it, scanning the room for additional items that obviously belonged to Marek to throw in, too.

Marek was almost frantic with worry. This was not going well, and the boy was sure he would be punished for it. On Tichy's command, he slowed his frantic tonguing and concentrated on longer, languid licks for a moment, before spearing his tongue and pressing the tip of it inside just past the resistance of the other boy's anal ring. Radek's sphincter gripped his tongue tip as Marek waited to see what the boy's reaction before doing anything else or proceeding any further. He desperately wanted to comply with Tichy's command of "deeper," but he was worried what would happen if Radek panicked at the sensation.

Notwithstanding his face pressed to the other boy's ass, Marek was aware from the sound of his trunk sliding across the floor and his occasional glimpses of Tichy that the man was packing up his belongings. His stomach clenched with dread at the knowledge that between that and the man's comment to Radek, Tichy was not going to allow him to remain in his dorm room for the next two nights. He knew he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, as that result obviously would have violated Tichy's newly stated "same room" rule for the two of them. Marek also knew that Tichy didn't speak idly or makes rules or threats that he didn't intend to keep – and that was what worried him the most about having run away.

So far, Radek was not a fan of the act his roommate was performing on him, but he nonetheless popped a boner from it after just a short while. Meanwhile Tichy found Marek's toothbrush and sat cross legged sideways to the boy, reached down to grab his cock, and began slowly – and for now, at least, gently – brushing Marek's whip-marked cock with the short, firm bristles.

Marek flinched as Tichy grasped his still-sore cock and pulled it back. His balls were still throbbing even before Tichy began to rub on the welted skin of his scrotum with whatever he was using to do it. Marek moaned into Radek's ass. It was going to be a very long, very unhappy two weeks for the boy at Tichy's hands, and he knew it. Tichy had punished him for wanking and was making him apologize to Radek for stealing, but Marek knew that those were just appetizers to the main course. There was also the matter of his grades to answer for, and the thought of that made the boy cringe. His grades weren't going to be good, and Tichy would know about that soon enough if he didn't know it already.

As Marek tongued his ass, Radek descended into a weird silence. He was feeling very mixed about all this. The sensation, once Marek slowed down and stopped tickling him with his tongue, was sort of pleasant. But it was too weird, too poof, and too … taboo in a sense for him to enjoy and appreciate it. He was also pretty sure that although Tichy had been right before when he said if he were lucky enough to find a good girlfriend he'd enjoy more blowjobs down the line, he was not going to find a girlfriend who would do this for him. Not that he'd ever dare to ask or even suggest it! He tried to focus on the way this made his cock almost involuntarily hard and process the surprising realization that his pucker was actually very sensitive to stimulation of this sort, but he still was relieved when Tichy finished packing Marek's trunk and gave Marek another command.

"Balls," was all the man had to say to make Marek comply immediately and begin to lick and suckle at Radek's scrotum and testicles. A few minutes later, by which point Radek was sitting upright, feeling normal again and quite exited for what was to come, Tichy gave his next command: "Cock." On cue, Marek began to lick and mouth at his roommate's erect penis. And then finally: "Suck – make him cum."

Radek was excited for the main event. It was going to be nice, even though Tichy's intimidating presence made it hard to relax. Could he even cum with the man in the room without throwing a t-shirt over Marek's head and pretending this wasn't gay? Damn it. As Tichy sat down on a chair and watched, Radek closed his eyes and tried to focus purely on the sensation. Mercifully, the man wasn't interrupting, and he no longer was giving commands as Marek's apology to his roommate rolled on.

Marek performed to the best of his ability. He licked and tongued his roommate's cleft and hole and immediately shifted to the boy's testicles when Tichy commanded it. Radek's balls were small in their wrinkled little sack, but they already made cum – Marek had tasted it several times. Marek was doing his best to be compliant and eager. He knelt as straight as he could while he serviced the other boy, then shifted to Radek's erect cock and began to pleasure it with his considerable oral skills. It no longer mattered to Marek what the other boy thought of him; his sole preoccupation was with Tichy. He hoped that the man saw his obedience. He prayed that the man saw the new-and-improved version of Marek Hurta.

And when it came time to do so, Marek sucked to the very best of his ability, trying not to go too fast or too slow, trying to give Radek as much pleasure as he could. When he remembered that Radek was a slow suck even in the best of times, he sped up a little bit, bobbing wetly on the kid's shaft, trying to get him off. These were not the best of times, he realized. Radek was scared shitless of Tichy, and Marek knew that having the man in the room for this would make the boy even more nervous. The boy realized to his chagrin that he would have been better served to have been as scared of Tichy as Radek was before Marek had made the ill-advised decision to try to escape.

Tichy was impressed with Radek's stamina. It was a real shame the boy was pudgy and pasty and with a bland, frog-like, unhandsome face, because otherwise he would start involving and using the kid more even than he already did. Radek was reliable and obedient, and Tichy knew the type. The boy could be trusted to carry out orders, no questions asked, and that could come in very useful in the future.

Tichy fished out a pack of cigarettes and grinned. They were not the cheap Startky that he usually smoked but a nice, blue pack of Gauloises – a French import, and some of the best, smoothest smokes that could be had in all of Czechoslovakia. He had won them from Drábek who hadn't believed that Marek would be back at the school by supper time and brought in by the red berets, no less! That made the cigarette Tichy lit up taste even more sweet and smooth in his mouth than usual.

Tichy settled into his chair and relaxed. If this were any ordinary day, the fact that Radek was taking so long to cum would have irritated him, but he now had what felt like all the time in the world to deal with Marek, so he simply leaned back and enjoyed the moment. The Hurta kid had ignored his warnings and run away, and Tichy was going to make him suffer for that decision in ways not yet even imagined – but they would be imagined soon enough and administered to Marek, one after the other, relentlessly, until the last tiny bits of opposition and resistance had been tortured from the boy's battered body. Soon enough, Marek would be very, very sorry that he had disobeyed Tichy's specific instructions, but for now, he could damn well apologize to his roommate for being a common thief. The stealing part didn't sit well with Tichy, who was somewhat lost in thought about what else to do about it.

Radek just wouldn't cum, and with Tichy in the room, Marek felt like all eyes were on him, wondering why he wasn't getting the job done. It wasn't for lack of effort. Marek bobbed, sucked, and tongued to the very best of his considerable ability, willing the other boy to cum, even praying for it. He hoped that Tichy understood that this wasn't his fault, that Radek just took a long while to wind up into an orgasm. But he also knew that, so often when it came to Tichy, his hopes and prayers had gone unanswered, and there was only the inevitable blame, chastisement, and pain. He expected no different treatment now. In fact, since he could not see Tichy as he sucked, he was dreading the man approaching him from behind, either to hit him, or suffocate him, or inflict some other punishment for not getting the job done sooner. Marek figured it would happen when the man finished his smoke, but mercifully Radek came before that happend and the relieved Marek took the boy's thin slop into his mouth.

"Come show me what you got there, Marek," chuckled Tichy, curious to see if Radek was a proper cummer especially with that stamina. "Then clothes on. We're moving you to my flat now. Pick up anything I haven't stuffed in your trunk already. And keep that in your mouth until I say otherwise – no swallowing."

Marek held it there and showed Tichy, but there wasn't a ton of it, and Marek's mouth already was generating some defensive saliva that was thinning it further. He dressed in silence, of course, tugging the ridiculous panties up over his swollen balls into the painful wedgie that Tichy had insisted on before, all under Radek's watchful gaze. He couldn't look at the other boy, not because of the shame of what Tichy had just made him do, but because of the shame of knowing that he had stolen money from Radek's desk drawer. Marek was a lot of things – "stupid" came readily to mind today – but he wasn't a thief, and it pained him to know that Radek thought he was – and for good reason, too. He simply couldn't look his roommate in the eyes.

Marek packed what he could find, but there wasn't much more to take. He thought about bringing the novel he had been reading but he figured that would just aggravate Tichy, making it look like he wasn't taking this all too seriously. When he was done, he nodded at the man and with his mouth still closed and storing Radek's cum, he gave a gesture that he was ready to go. He did spare one quick glance at Radek before leaving the room, but the other boy immediately looked away. How Marek envied the kid, who would be going home to his family in just a couple of days.

Tichy grabbed Marek's trunk, unlocked the door, and steered Marek out and down the hall. More than a few boys were out and about as Tichy escorted Marek from his room. Word once again had spread that Tichy was on the floor and behind closed doors with Hurta and Kinter. The boys all knew what had gone on with Marek's escape attempt, and they expected to hear the telltale sounds of a beating and Marek's screams at any moment. They were surprised when, instead, Marek and Tichy emerged from the room together with Tichy carrying the kid's trunk. Marek didn't even seem to be crying, at least not recently, but he was tight-lipped and had a look of absolute dread on his face.

"Radek told me that Hurta's not going home for the break, and he has to stay with Tichy – in Tichy's apartment," whispered Jiri Kader.

"That kid is so fucked it's not even funny," replied Dobroslav Pokorney with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, Tichy had to send the fucking army after him, and now Hurta's gonna pay," said Frantisek Lisy. "Did you see that grim look on Tichy's face? Fuck me," he added with the shake of his head.

"More like 'fuck Hurta,'" replied Kader with a grin. "Wait – I totally didn't say that. I deny saying that."

Marek heard them whispering but made no effort to look at the other boys as he walked to his doom. He was too embarrassed, and none of them liked him, anyway. They were sure to revel in his distress. No doubt they were smirking at his misfortune as they whispered behind his back. Thankfully, they couldn't know that he was holding a load of Radek's cum in his mouth.

Marek kept his eyes averted downward as Tichy perp-walked him toward the stairwell. Soon enough they were down the stairs and heading toward the other building. It seemed strange to be coming to Tichy's flat up the main staircase and down the long corridor past the other flats rather than through the usual obscure route through the uninhabited ground floor hallway and up the fire escape. The new route had a more permanent feel to it – as if Marek wouldn't need to go the other way ever again.

As they began to climb the stairs leading to Tichy's apartment, Marek spied Smallpox sitting on the top step. She made a spanking gesture at Marek with her right hand and stuck her tongue out at him before conspicuously dashing down the steps right past them. Marek looked away unhappily as she made the spanking motion. If only what he was in for could be just a little hand spanking like that, but Marek knew that it wouldn't be. Maybe Smallpox wouldn't be such a little bitch if she knew what Tichy was doing to him. She probably thought it was all fun and games. Marek wondered what she would think if she were the one being whipped and caned until she bled. Not so funny now, is it Smallpox?

Tichy pretended he didn't see the girl, even as she made her way right past him. He wasn't quite ready to trust Ludmila enough to involve her in Marek's chastisement and rehabilitation, but it was obvious that she was interested in doing just that. She may have had other interests in the boy, as well. It was something to consider for the future.

Down the hallway they went and into Tichy's flat. The man put the trunk down, turned the key in the lock, and then turned and glanced at Marek with a telling look. Clearly, clothes were only for the hallways now. Nude was the new normal. It was lucky, really, that the internat's new central heating worked so well, and that these once-cold rooms of the former monastery were now almost overheated most of the time.

For Marek, his arrival in Tichy's apartment was like entering a secure prison on a life sentence. As the lock mechanism slid home with an audible click, Marek realized that he was completely at Tichy's mercy now. The man could do whatever he wanted to him, almost without limitation. It wasn't even clear that he would allow Marek to attend the last day of classes. At the man's knowing look, the tense boy immediately began to remove his clothes, and soon enough, he was naked. He was already trembling even before he prostrated himself on the floor on his hands and knees before his nemesis. Radek's cum remained in his mouth unswallowed, although it was mostly saliva by now.

Tichy smiled as Marek got naked and down on the floor. The man already knew that this was going to be the best Christmas of his life. Ignoring the groveling boy, he carried the trunk over to the bedroom, then walked over to the kitchen and opened a bottle of red wine to celebrate. It was a Valtice Blauer Portugieser, a decent wine to go with his nice smokes. He wished he had some good cheese, too, but he didn't generally keep much food on hand because he ate most of his meals in the canteen and he hadn't yet done most of his Christmas shopping, and certainly not for items like cheese that might spoil. A glass of wine, a smoke, and a cute, frightened young boy at his complete mercy would do just fine, though. He would live without the cheese, at least for now.

Marek kept his nose an inch from the floor, face down, not daring to look at anything as the man went about the apartment and made his preparations. The boy was terrified. Tichy had taken him out of his dormitory two days early and moved him into his apartment. It was just the two of them now. A scared-shitless kid and a grown man who hated his guts and was ready to exact revenge against him not only for the sins and transgressions of his traitorous father and his capitalist grandfather, but against the boy himself for violating the man's strict instructions and disregarding his warnings about running away. Marek knew he was absolutely fucked, and he was trembling. He couldn't think of a single way to make this better. Tichy had every reason to be furious with him. What had Tomáš said? "White-hot pissed" was the term he had used. It did not bode well for Marek, especially certain parts of his anatomy.

Tichy pulled his shoes, socks, trousers, and boxer shorts off and looked at Marek contemplatively, taking a sip of the wine before lighting up another Gauloise.

"You may swallow," he told Marek and waited for the boy to comply. A sip of wine for him and a mouthful of frothy cum for the child seemed more than fair under the circumstances.

"You did pretty damn well there in your room," he said to the trembling boy. "I guess you're really afraid of what's coming, aren't you? You didn't even bat an eyelid before sticking your tongue up Radek's asshole. Don't think I didn't notice. I pay attention to these things."

Marek nodded at the man's taunts as he conjured up some additional saliva to try to cleanse his palate of the taste of Radek's cum.

"Yes, sir," he said to the floor without looking up. He was glad that Tichy had noticed how obedient he had been with Radek, and how obedient he planned to be now. He planned to be very, very obedient from here on. Extremely obedient. Obedient in all things.

"How about you spend some time licking and kissing my feet and sucking on my toes while I figure out what to do with you, Marek?" said Tichy. "It's probably in your best interests to take it nice and slow. I might even allow you to give me head, just to help you out. As you probably already know, every minute you spend pleasing and sucking me is a minute I won't spend laying into your ass and punishing you," he added with a smile that the boy couldn't see but probably could detect in his voice.

"Go on, then," said Tichy as he wiggled his obviously unwashed, just-out-of-his-socks-and-shoes and post-p.e.-class feet and toes in the boy's direction.

Marek crawled to the man with face down, not looking up, but judging the direction and distance from the sound of Tichy's voice. When he arrived at the man's feet, he immediately began to tongue and lick the left foot, kissing and licking the top of it, then sucking on the man's toes and licking between them as Tichy lifted his foot and wiggled them. The boy still was trembling in fear. He just couldn't seem to stop shaking.

As far as Tichy was concerned, there was no hurry. Marek still had to attend classes tomorrow, so there was no point in laying into him fully until after that. Revenge was a dish best served cold, after all, and for now, Tichy could have a delicious appetizer in the form of a scared-shitless twelve-year-old obediently lapping at his smelly, salty-tasting toes. The man knew that if he had stopped Marek from escaping or apprehended him sooner than he had – either of which he easily could have – none of this would be happening, certainly not quite like this. It was a great move, letting the kid go, and thereby injecting a tiny bit of risk into the equation. At the end of the day, that had been easy to do, with two dozen soldiers, two trucks, five cars, a motorcycle, and an army helicopter at his disposal.

Marek did his best to do what Tichy wanted him to do. The trembling boy barely noticed the taste of the man's sweaty feet as he licked, tongued, kissed, and tried to be the most obedient Marek Hurta he was capable of being. He was following Tomáš's advice to the letter, every word of it. As he licked, he was trying to remember everything the boy had said. Nobody at the school had ever been kind enough to fill him in, give him the skinny, or tell him how things really worked, but Tomáš had, at least as it pertained to Tichy. Marek was grateful for the other boy's kindness. He would do everything that Tomáš suggested in the hope that Tichy would show him mercy.

In the back of his mind was the thought that perhaps Tomáš had lied to him or played him, thinking that it would be funny to have Marek make things worse with Tichy by doing everything precisely wrong. He hoped that wasn't the case. He prayed it wasn't, but Tomáš had seemed sincere, and his advice made a lot of sense. Besides, Marek already had gone down the opposite route before. He had tried to stand up to the man, even tried to impress Tichy by being brave, but he had failed both spectacularly and painfully. He would try it Tomáš's way and do a lot of praying, too.

Still, Marek wondered why Tomáš had taken the risk to give him advice in the canteen under Tichy's watchful gaze. The man no doubt would roast Tomáš's ass if he ever found out that the boy had called him an egomaniac, but Marek recognized from his experiences there was more than a nugget of truth to what Tomáš had said. Of course, there also was the personal vendetta that Tichy had in his specific case, which gave him even more reason to be pissed off, but on balance, Tomáš's advice had seemed sage.

Marek licked and tongued first the man's left foot and all its toes, snaking his tongue in between them. Then he did the same for the right foot. He did it eagerly. Energetically. He did it like he had enjoyed licking and sucking feet and toes since birth. He hoped Tichy would notice just how eager and obedient he was being. There were no fierce looks. No secret vengeance plots. No seething angers. Marek banished that fucking pain-inducing, self-defeating bullshit entirely from his mind. As far as he was concerned, his entire life was sucking and licking Tichy's feet and toes. He loved doing it. Loved it!

Tichy drank his wine as the motivated boy licked and sucked at his feet. He sipped his wine and smoked his cigarette. He stretched lazily as the kid did his thing, but after a while, the pleasing sensation seemed to diminish. How much time had passed since Marek started? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? As good as it felt, as much as he liked watching Marek do it so eagerly and willingly, Tichy already was fully erect and starting to grow impatient.

"Up here, cocksucker," Tichy demanded after a time. "You know the drill now, don't you? Throat. Eyes."

When it came time to suck, Marek knelt up with a polite "Yes, sir, thank you, sir," and took Tichy's already-hard cock into his mouth. He lived to suck Tichy's cock. He loved it, and he set about trying to prove to Tichy and himself that that was true.

Marek also made love to Tichy with his eyes as he sucked on the man's cock. With those eyes, he tried to convey just how eager he was to be on his knees, sucking cock in the man's kitchen. In fact, he was very eager. He wanted to suck Tichy's cock until bedtime if that would delay the beating that he knew was coming. The boy was quite surprised at the man's forbearance so far. Despite what Marek knew and could sense and what Tomáš had confirmed about him being white-hot pissed, aside from the ball-whipping punishment for wanking, Tichy had not so much as smacked him since the soldiers had delivered him into the disciplinarian's arms. The kids in his dorm and even the soldiers in the truck knew Marek was going to get it, so why hadn't he? Marek didn't know the answer, but he sucked the man with cock-pleasing attention to detail in the hope that Tichy would see the new Marek Hurta in a better light than the old one.

"Such a good boy," said Tichy wistfully. The man had noted how Marek lapped on his feet oh-so-obediently and then how the boy had thanked him, saying 'sir' twice before he swallowed his cock. He poured himself another glass of wine and lit up another cigarette.

"I almost wish it weren't too late, Marek," the man added sadly. "This earns you a bit of a reprieve, you know. It delays things, but it can't make them much better, I'm afraid," mused Tichy as he caressed Marek's soft, brown hair with both hands. It wasn't his usual teasing, rapid tousling of the boy's hair. This was slow and contemplative, more akin to a scalp massage. He looked into Marek's eyes as the boy started to work his shaft with his mouth and throat.

For Marek, in those few words, it all came crashing down. As the meaning of what Tichy had said sunk in, Marek deflated like a balloon, literally slumping at the shoulders, and sagging from his upright, attentive, energetic posture. His blood ran cold even as he continued to suck the man, his eyes lined with worry as he looked up at Tichy. Why couldn't it make things better? Why couldn't it? Why couldn't Tichy see how sorry he was, and that he was being not just obedient, but eager? Marek bobbed most of the man's cock into his mouth and held it, looking up at Tichy, even as he felt tears threatening to wet his eyes once again. He averted his gaze for a second as he blinked them away. Why? Why? Why couldn't Tichy see how hard he was trying, how obedient he was trying to be as the new Marek Hurta?

As soon as he finished speaking, Tichy could see the difference in the boy's posture and demeanor. He couldn't help but smile. Young boys were so predictable, and over his years at the school Tichy had become a master at manipulating them. He knew he was tormenting and gaslighting the frightened boy with his almost-apologetic, regretful-sounding confirmation that he still planned to beat the shit out of him, but did Marek seriously think he could suck and lick his way out of being punished? Think again, Hurta boy! Not only did Tichy plan to beat the kid silly, but he was also going to enjoy every second of it, too. After the stunt he pulled and the warnings he had been given, Marek should expect no less. Tichy wondered whether he should have wrecked the kid's ass first so Marek would be relieved and grateful to be sucking cock instead of feeling so sorry for himself.

"Oh, come on, Marek, don't give up," Tichy said encouragingly. "You can't possibly think that an hour of obedience will get you out of trouble after your escape attempt. Think about it. You already have over two weeks of punishments ahead of you. Don't make things worse for yourself now. I will not suddenly forget that you directly disobeyed almost every single order I've ever given you," tutted Tichy.

To Marek, it seemed once again like Tichy could read his mind. He knelt up straighter again – perhaps not as straight as before, but straighter, nonetheless. Come hell or high water, he would continue to be the new Marek Hurta. He would show Tichy that he got it now, he understood. He hadn't understood before, not fully, but now he did. When a grown man who hates you and your ancestors has the army on his side, there's not a lot a 12-year-old kid can do to oppose him. Marek understood that now; yes, he did. He even understood that Tichy probably had to have sway with Skala to have taken Marek out of his dorm two days early. Something like that doesn't just happen at an internat – Drábek wasn't about to have Radek to his apartment for a sleepover, after all – so special arrangements had to have been made, and Tichy had to have been the one who had made them.

"Anyway, before you're finished, I want all of my cock happy, not just the first two thirds," said Tichy with a warm smile. "There's a bucket in the bathroom under the sink – why don't you fetch it now, just in case?" he asked almost as if he were once again asking about Marek's preference for lemon or milk in his tea. Everything about the man was perfectly calm and gallant, even though he was asking the boy to gag on his cock to the point where he might very well vomit, and even though he planned to wreck the boy's body and soul beyond anything remotely reasonable as soon as the campus cleared out and he could take his vengeance and vent his ire in relative privacy.

Marek continued sucking – despite his despondency, he had never really stopped – as he listened to the man's instructions. He looked at Tichy, right in the eyes. The man wanted happy, but Marek wasn't sure he could deliver happy right now. He was decidedly not happy. In fact, he was very, very unhappy. He tried to make his eyes look happy, but how do you even do that when you're not? He was not, not, not.

He pulled off the man, and this time, his eyes were glimmering with tears. Getting the bucket was a good idea. He knew that it probably would be … necessary.

"Yes, please, Mr. Tichy," he said, in his happiest unhappy voice. To his hands and knees he went, crawling, face down, belly in, butt out. Just the way Tichy liked it.

Tichy waited for Marek to crawl and fetch the bucket. It was such a sexy, satisfying sight. He wished he could have the old Glass King himself crawling to fetch a puke bucket, but as far as next-best things went, this was damn sure a close one. The boy was better looking than his grandfather, too. Athletic and lean, he looked good crawling nice and low with his little ass stuck out. Tichy's cock twitched. He wanted to fuck the kid, but all in the due time. He knew that this next bit was going to be good. The kid was desperate to please him, which meant that the coming blowjob was going to be excellent, outstanding, and amazing. There was no need for him to rush things now, no need to miss out on any of the pleasure. He had the Hurta kid to himself for the next two weeks, and the possibilities for that were both endless and exquisite.

Marek crawled, but it was an unhappy crawl. He was full of dread. He replayed what Tichy had just said again in his head. Two weeks of punishments? Two weeks? He would be with the man full time from now on. Not just for an hour or two. Full time, and if the "same room" rule applied for the entire time, that meant that he would always be in easy hitting distance. Was there any way out of this? Marek didn't see one. He had tried the ones he had seen, including going to the nurse, then Skala, then running away. He'd thought about going to the VB, too, but Tichy already had the Czech army on his side. He was likely to have the police, as well. Marek could only imagine – actually, he couldn't imagine, and he really, honestly didn't want to imagine – what would happen to him if he contacted the police and ended up talking to another one of Tichy's buddies. He wasn't going to do that. This time, he wasn't going to make it any worse for himself than it already was.

So, what to do then? His mind was blank. He retrieved the bucket and awkwardly crawled and pushed it in front of him with the top of his head and his face. Tichy took the bucket from him and positioned it right where he wanted it. He even spread his legs wider so the bucket would fit there, in front of the chair, between his legs, for urgent … spillage. Marek knelt up. His expression revealed all – he was not a happy boy. And he was starting to be a very tired one, too, since his escape adventure and a lack of good sleep the night before had combined to sap him of most of his energy.

Tichy didn't even consider Marek's tiredness as a mitigating factor. This night wouldn't be over until his cock was in the kid's throat and Marek's ass had been satisfyingly marked by punishment. And even then, tonight would be just a start – a down payment on Marek's real punishment yet to come. Two days remained before the break, and those two days were the only things protecting the boy from a devastating punishment that he would never forget for a long as he lived.

Tichy could sense the boy's anxiety as Marek crawled back into position. The man knew that making the kid lose most of his supper wasn't smart under the circumstances, but the break was coming, and Tichy knew he could fatten the boy up over the holidays if he needed to.

"Good boy," said Tichy with a friendly smile, as if he were speaking to a toddler. "Now open up and slide down on it, all the way. Get your lips around the base, your nose nestled in my pubes. Nice and slow and all in one motion," demanded Tichy. "And wait down there, will you? Look up and wait. I'll tell you when you can pull off," instructed the man.

"Yes, Mr. Tichy," Marek replied meekly as the man gave him his instructions. He eyed the man's cock warily. It looked hard and eager, almost quivering. The way Marek's stomach felt right now, he knew without a doubt that whatever he had eaten for dinner was going straight into the bucket between Tichy's legs. The fact that Tichy didn't seem to care about Marek losing his dinner as he normally did was another ominous sign to the boy.

Tichy took a sip of wine and pulled out another cigarette but didn't light it just yet. He sniffed and licked it, and then put it on the side of the ashtray. That was for later, afterwards. Right now, it was time for Marek to demonstrate his obedience at a whole new level.

Marek eyed the cock that was about to make him vomit and used his right hand to take it by the base. His stomach already was clenching and heaving as he knelt up to give himself the best possible angle. Thanks a fucking lot, Marek said silently to his stomach. His stomach was a traitor, just like his father had been. Marek wished he had never been born. If he had to be born, he wished his name wasn't Hurta. He hated his name now. He hated the fact that his parents had been too stupid to know what they were branding him with when they gave it to him. His mother had to know. Why hadn't she changed it after his father had died? He hated the name that was causing him so much torment and pain, and he hated the ancestors who had given it to him even more.

He lined up his mouth and tried to take the man to the hilt without gagging. The hilt part went tolerably well, despite the mostly dry condition of the man's cock. The without-gagging part went about as poorly as Marek had expected it would, and as soon as his nose touched the man's pubes, he pulled off and promptly donated his dinner to the bucket god. He heaved and retched for a good 30 seconds as his stomach made sure to expel every ounce of content it contained. Marek didn't even bother to ask for a handkerchief or a glass of water. He knew Tichy wouldn't provide them, so he simply knelt up – looking a bit green around the gills – and prepared to do the same damn thing again.

Tichy smiled. Although the puking part wasn't sexy as such, the effort was, and the sensation of the boy's clenching throat was quite nice, too. Most of all, it was great to witness that level of obedience from Marek. The boy truly was desperate to please.

"Couldn't hold it?" asked the man. "Oh well, try again. We've got time," he added with obvious amusement. "We'll keep trying until you succeed. Balls-deep, eyes up, hold it long enough to get permission to pull back," said the man as he smiled sadistically. He was enjoying his role as Marek's omnipotent god. The boy wouldn't dare to disobey him now – not with over two weeks of punishments ahead of him – and that gave rise to all kinds of possibilities in his mind as he spoke soothingly to the youngster. Tichy had even used the collective "we" like this somehow was a mutual or team effort, but all he had to do though was sit there, naked and erect, smiling, observing, and sipping on his wine now and then.

Marek emitted a little moan – or maybe it was a whimper – as he prepared to take the man's cock into his throat once again. Dry heaves were the worst. He hated them, those breathless convulsions that left him red-faced and bug-eyed as his stomach searched for more contents to void. With a look of anguish, he plunged his head down, driving Tichy's cock into his throat once again. He supposed he should be grateful that Tichy hadn't smacked him for pulling off to vomit, but for some reason, he didn't feel grateful. This time, though, he tried to hold his head down with the man's cock fully impaled. His toes and fingers clasped and curled, and his fucking stomach responded unhappily just as he knew it would. He bucked once, then again, as he tried to hold his position and keep the contents of his stomach down.

He couldn't. Forced to pull off, revolted by the smell and sight of his own vomit, he dry-heaved nothing but a thick streamer of bile into the bucket, counting as his stomach clenched one, two, three, four more times. There it was: the breathless, red-faced, eye-bulging feeling that he hated so much. He hated dry heaves. He hated his life. He hated living in it. But he sat up once again and wearily eyed Tichy's cock for round three.

"Better," said Tichy with an indulgent smile. "You'll get there." The boy would get there. They had over two full weeks to work on it, and Tichy would see to it over that time that the boy became proficient in the art of deep throating. The kid's last effort had been an improvement and had yielded hopeful signs, mainly because there was nothing left in Marek's stomach to expel; there had only been half a meal there anyway, and that was well over an hour ago, so some of it he likely had digested already.

None of that mattered to Tichy. He was willing to drive the boy until his gag reflex simply exhausted itself – until his throat and esophagus were just too tired to keep revolting. It would take more than one or two tries, but eventually it was going to happen. Tichy would bet a bottle of premium Russian vodka on it. He reached across the table to a glass of tepid water left there from earlier in the day. He sloshed it over his cock to clean it and gave the last dregs of it to Marek to drink, gargle, or do whatever he wanted to do with it, just to make the whole process a little easier. Ultimately, he wanted Marek to succeed, even if it took a while.

Marek gratefully took the last of the water and drank it down. He was thirsty. It helped to take the edge off the acid burn in his throat. Mustering his willpower, he knelt up, squared his shoulders, and willed himself to plunge down on Tichy's cock once again. The man's cockhead and shaft slid thickly into Marek's throat as the kid's nose nestled in Tichy's pubes. He looked up at Tichy, hoping – no, praying – that he could stay on. He couldn't. His stomach clenched as he pulled off and gagged, head down toward the bucket, his right hand still grasping the base of Tichy's cock, his body shaking with revulsion as he dry-heaved. The water he had just drunk down ended up going straight in the bucket with everything else.

"Go on, keep at it," Tichy encouraged as if Marek were doing chin-ups. "This isn't over until it's over. It's do-it-or-die-trying time," he announced. He wasn't being literal about it, but he may well have been. He liked the sensation of his cock in the kid's throat, and the dominant personality in him very much liked forcing the boy to put himself through this much discomfort for his pleasure, all on his command. That meant that Marek was going to do it until he got it right, no matter how long that took.

Marek also knew that he would do it. He didn't have any choice in the matter. He was being punished. A man who had never even met him and didn't know anything about him had decided sight unseen that Marek needed to be punished for what his grandfather had done 35 years ago and what his father had done 10 years ago. He had deceived Marek's mother and had him brought to a gulag of a school to be beaten, tortured, and abused. Marek was trapped at the school, hated and completely at the man's mercy, with nobody to help him. It didn't matter that Marek had never even met his grandfather and couldn't remember ever knowing his father. It didn't matter that what the man was doing to him wasn't fair. It didn't matter that it was cruel. It didn't matter that it didn't even make any sense. It didn't matter that he was only 12 years old. All that mattered was that Tichy had decided it would happen and had proven repeatedly that he had all the power he needed to make it happen.

Marek was out of ideas. He had no more cards to play. Nothing he tried had worked. Tichy had the proven ability to hurt him whenever he wanted to, now more than ever. Marek knew that at any time, he could choose between precisely two options: He could either do exactly what Tichy told him to do the moment Tichy told him to do it, or he could let Tichy beat the shit out of him or torture him and then do it, anyway. Marek was tired of getting the shit beaten out of him and being tortured. He was also mentally exhausted and completely out of ideas and hope.

And so, it went. Time after time after time, Marek struggled to suppress his gag reflex and prevent the dry heaves from racking his entire body. Time and again, he failed. His stomach already felt like he had gone ten rounds in the ring, but Tichy gave him no respite, forcing the boy back on his cock to try again, and again, and again.

For Tichy, watching the boy do his thing was both fulfilling and arousing. Tichy already had planned to do something exactly like this with Marek over the holidays to teach the boy to deep throat, but what a nice bonus it was to be able to start two nights early, with a highly motivated and newly complacent young boy obediently complying with his every command! It was marvelous beyond measure, especially because both participants knew that this merely was the opening act for the main show to come. One of them was dreading the main event with every bone in his body, while the other was looking forward to it with mirror-opposite glee. It really couldn't be much more perfect. And now, it was time to make Marek do it. Successfully do it.

Finally, on his 11^th attempt, exhausted and breathless from the effort, Marek impaled himself on the man's cock and was able to hold his face there without gagging, his nose buried in the man's pubes. He held there for what he thought was enough to count. At least he thought it was long enough. He couldn't see the man's face and couldn't make eye contact with him, so he didn't know he was done until the man tapped his head and uttered a single word.

"Good," said Tichy.

Marek pulled off, gasping for air, still holding the man's cock in his hand and wishing he were anywhere else. His pallor had a decidedly grayish-green tinge to it, but somehow, he managed to avoid any additional dry heaves.

"Well done, let's leave it there for now," said Tichy, seeing how exhausted and bedraggled the boy looked. "Stand up. Come."

Marek hadn't expected to be done after only one successful plunge. Given how angry the man was with him, he already felt lucky that Tichy was letting him try so many times without punishing him for failing. He almost couldn't believe it when the man called a stop to the activity. Tichy hadn't even cum, yet. But his relief was short-lived as Tichy beckoned him to stand and go with him. Go with him where? Tichy had threatened a beating and Marek was dreading it. But he went, following the man to the bathroom. It didn't seem that he had any other choice.

Tichy poured the bucket out into the toilet, rinsed it, poured it out again and slid it under the sink. He steered Marek into the bathtub and ran a nice warm shower, stepping into the relatively small but not claustrophobic space with the boy. He washed himself first, especially his cock and crotch to get all the bile and stomach acid off it, then crouched down, picking up that girlie shower gel and using it to give Marek a good wash. He was quite tender and careful in doing so and didn't squeeze or even rub hard as he washed the youngster's heavily marked, and noticeably swollen, cock and balls. He rinsed them both off thoroughly, then turned the water to run a little cooler.

Marek couldn't figure out what was going on even as Tichy stepped into the shower with him and started to bathe. Marek couldn't believe that the man had taken him into the bathroom to get clean. He still didn't believe it even as Tichy started to wash his body, but the man's hands were gentle, especially on the boy's genitals that were still sore and hurting from the whipping they had taken. What was going on? Marek remained anxious because he didn't know. He remembered the time Tichy had washed him this way at the gym after the first time he had tried to run away. That was also the first time Tichy had fucked him. Maybe this was a ritual with him when he wanted to do something new. But what would it be this time? A new kind of beating? A new way to have sex that Marek didn't know about? A new humiliation or torture?

"Open," Tichy told the boy before giving Marek's face and mouth quite a thorough rinse. "Brush your teeth," he added as he dried off and used another dry towel to dry Marek, grabbing his own toothbrush to do the same. "Piss if you need to."

Marek retrieved his toothbrush and went through his evening rituals in a daze. Tichy was being so normal, so friendly – almost caring. But the man hated him. He had admitted it and even explained why. Marek didn't like his reasons or think they were fair, but he had no doubt that Tichy was telling him the truth about his motivations. The man hated Marek just because of who he was, but now he hated him even more for what he had done. So why was he being nice now, after Marek had defied him? It didn't make any sense. It also seemed like the calm before the storm.

It was getting late. As Tichy spat into the sink and rinsed with a bit of mouthwash, he tilted his head at Marek.

"Hmmm," he said almost pensively. "I stand corrected. You did it. At least for today. There's no way I have the time and energy needed to spank you properly, and I will not do a half-assed job of it," he explained, not even noticing his own pun. "I guess you've literally licked and sucked your way out of a punishment for now, so congratulations," he added as he ruffled the boy's hair affectionately the way he usually did it. "I still need to cum, obviously," Tichy added, almost as an afterthought. That much was a given. Despite all the pausing while Marek heaved and choked, he had gotten quite close to orgasm during the kid's sucking and his deep-throating efforts, and even if he skipped the beating, he wasn't about to fall asleep unsatisfied.

It wasn't until Tichy announced that he wouldn't be beaten, at least not right away, that the fog of anxiety began to lift from the boy. He stood in shock as Tichy tousled his hair. He wanted to pinch himself. Was this really happening? It was! Tomáš had been right! Marek wanted to jump for joy. The only thing that stopped him from celebrating right then was that it might appear unseemly, and the man had made it clear that his punishment was only being postponed, not canceled. Regardless, it still was a good development.

Tichy picked up the tube of cream and smeared some of it on his still semi-erect cock, which immediately sprung back to its full glory. He led the boy into the bedroom, pushed him onto the bed face first, flat on his stomach – not even demanding that the kid stick his butt out or anything – and got on top of him. He stayed propped up on his elbows as he mounted Marek so as not to crush the kid. Tichy knew that with his size, he easily could give the boy a taste of claustrophobic panic, but he wasn't aiming to do that just now. Slowly, even pausing and allowing time for Marek to adjust, he worked his way into the kid's rectum and began to fuck him quite gently, with short- to medium-length, gradual, sliding thrusts – no jabbing or ramming in with force. At one point, he reached over to the wall with his cock still thrusting back and forth inside Marek and turned off the light. Wintery mountain darkness swallowed them as he fucked away.

Marek didn't even mind when Tichy pushed him down to fuck him. Well, he minded, but as he considered the litany of things that Tichy could do to him that were a lot worse than that, Marek still considered himself lucky. He didn't dare to hope that Tichy would be gentle like that first time in the boiler room, but Tichy was. He was gentle, well-lubed, and he didn't fuck to hurt like Marek knew he could. It didn't hurt too much, anyway. Marek still couldn't believe how gracious the man was being, and he was incredibly confused but oh so grateful for it.

Tichy humped Marek a little more rapidly after turning out the light, but still clearly without any intent to make it painful or uncomfortable for the boy. He came with a satisfied grunt after another four or five minutes of activity, then sighed contentedly and enjoyed the moment briefly before pulling out and steering Marek onto his side on the bed. There would be no cleanup tonight as the man spooned the boy close and draped the duvet over them both. There was a separate mattress on the floor for Marek brought by Vacha, but it wasn't made up yet and clearly Tichy deemed his large bed good enough as he wrapped an arm around the boy in what might have seemed almost like a caring or affectionate gesture.

Tichy surprised Marek again by cuddling him. The man's body was warm against his as Marek lay there in wonderment. The day had not gone as he had expected, but maybe there was hope, after all. This part certainly hadn't been what he had anticipated. Thank God for Tomáš. Marek replayed Tomáš's advice in his mind as his eyelids started to feel very heavy. The older boy may not have known it, but his act of friendship and compassion in the canteen had given Marek hope, and maybe even a chance. Even more than Borek, Marek thought that maybe he had a friend in Tomáš. It would be nice to have a friend at the school, especially because it looked very likely that he would be attending it for another term, and if Tichy had his way, even longer than that.

"Good night, uličníku [Author's note: little rascal]," Tichy muttered contentedly as he relaxed into his pillow and began to drift off.

The boy was tired. The escape attempt had taken a lot out of him. Could he just fall asleep like this, with Tichy, in the man's bed, with both of them naked? He thought that he could, and a short time later, that's exactly what he did. He slept like the dead, and if he had any dreams, they either weren't the bad type, or he didn't remember them.

Not very long after that, Tichy slept, too. It was nice to have some warm soft boy flesh in the bed with him. It had been such a long time since he had been with someone like this. He couldn't even remember how long, but it must have been a solid decade. Tichy didn't fancy women, and he didn't really want a romantic relationship of any sort – not with a woman or a man. He was a serial boy abuser with plenty of boys at his disposal, and that suited him just fine, but it did have some downsides. Sleeping alone was one of them, and not sleeping alone was nice for a change. Sleeping with a handsome young boy who was at his mercy and as good as owned by him was even nicer!

Tichy slept peacefully and woke up shortly before his alarm, just shy of seven o'clock, a little hot and sweaty and very much erect. Marek was still dead to the world, sleeping deeply. The man smiled to himself and reached across to the bedside table where he had discarded the cream from last night. He lubed up his erection and slowly shifted the still-sleeping boy, parted his legs, and started to work the tip of his cock into Marek's behind. His glans was already inside the boy's anus when Marek stirred awake. Tichy pushed in a little deeper to ensure that he wouldn't slip out if Marek squirmed at the surprise of being woken up with a cock up his ass. He slowly worked his way deeper and deeper into Marek's bottoms and proceeded to fuck the boy at a steady pace.

Marek jerked awake with a little cry as the man's cock entered his rectum. He flailed in surprise for just a moment, before his brain kicked in and reminded him where he was, and who he was with. With his heart racing and with a little moan, he settled back down and let Tichy have his way with him. The light streaming in from the outside world revealed that it was morning. Marek had slept through the entire night, and as far as he knew, he hadn't woken up once. It was Thursday, he reminded himself, the last official day in the term. He had his exam in Drábek's class, which, of course, he hadn't studied for and was likely to bomb. Drábek hated him and wouldn't cut Marek any slack with his grade. By tomorrow, Friday, all the other kids would be home with their parents, or at least headed in that direction. But not Marek. He didn't get to go home.

Tichy yawned contentedly as he slowly fucked the kid. "Good morning," he said, almost like there was nothing out of the ordinary about the situation.

The boy made no move to extricate himself from the man or to avoid his violation. Tichy wasn't fucking him hard, and the lube was doing its thing. The biggest discomfort Marek had was that he really needed to pee. His bladder was full, and Tichy's undulations weren't helping. The boy also realized that he had an erection. It was one of those piss-hard boners he often woke up with when he really needed to go. He hoped that Tichy wouldn't see it as arousal. It still embarrassed Marek how readily his dick boned up for the man whenever he touched it. Maybe it was true: A traitor's blood ran through his body, causing it to betray Marek whenever it damn well pleased. He already had put his dick and his stomach in that category, and his throat, too.

"Gooduhh morning, uhh, sir," said Marek in what he hoped was a pleasant voice as Tichy fucked away. He was going to be in full-blown Tomáš mode with Tichy today, no matter what happened. It had worked yesterday when he thought Tichy was going to kill him, so maybe it would work again today. But was Tichy even going to let him go to class? That would seem to violate the "same room" rule. The boy figuratively shrugged. Not going would at least mean he couldn't bomb Drábek's exam.

Marek lay still and passive as Tichy fucked him. His life had become this, and there was nothing he could do about it. His face undulated back and forth against the mattress as Tichy repeatedly thrust into him and backed off. If only his friends back home could see him now – and they just might, if Marek tried to escape again or otherwise got Tichy angry enough to send those letters. At least being fucked like this didn't hurt anywhere nearly as much as the other things Tichy did when he was trying to hurt him. Being fucked was demeaning and embarrassing to the boy, but it wasn't agonizing. It at least had that going for it, especially considering that there wasn't any way to stop it.

It turned out to be an intense fuck, although Tichy's bladder wasn't empty either and it made him cum faster; he could feel the extra pressure on his prostate. After three minutes of vigorous humping, he came with a huff and pulled out quite quickly.

"I need a piss, and I bet you do, too," he chuckled. "Come on," he said as he pulled the boy off the bed.

Into the bathroom they went once again, but not to the toilet. As soon as Tichy steered him toward the bathtub, Marek knew what the man intended to do, but he knelt for it anyway. Getting pissed on was in the same category as being fucked: It was demeaning and gross, but it didn't hurt. Marek was trying to avoid pain. He was the new-and-improved Marek Hurta and being governed by the Sage and Wise Laws of Tomáš, he was going to do everything in his power to avoid being hurt. It was as simple as that. It was his new mantra.

"Kneel. Open nice and wide," smiled Tichy. "Go ahead and piss if your wood lets you," he allowed before aiming his still mostly erect cock at Marek. He took a very long, very strong, and very hot piss all over the boy, aiming at his face and into his mouth especially. Tichy emptied his entire bladder, drenching the kid thoroughly with his strong, pungent morning piss, then flicked his cock a few times to shake off the last droplets into Marek's face and hair. Doing so felt incredibly powerful and possessive to the man – like he was laying a claim on Marek or marking his territory.

It was gross. Disgusting, smelly, and gross. Marek kept his eyes clamped tightly shut throughout, but his mouth was open as the man pissed right inside it. Marek used his tongue as best he could to block the stream and keep it out of his throat, but some got in, anyway, and he was forced to either swallow it down or choke on it. He chose the former and shuddered at the disgusting taste. Otherwise, he made no effort to stop the man or protect himself. When it was over, Marek just wanted to fling himself into a body of water – any body of water – to get the stuff off his body. He was literally dripping with it, and it stunk, making his nose curl grotesquely. He desperately wanted to rinse his mouth and take another shower, with or without Tichy. But Tichy had other plans.

"Now, clean me up; it's still slimy, and I'm not going to have an itchy cock all day," Tichy instructed as he pulled Marek's face towards the still mostly erect member that had been in the kid's ass twice since its last washing. The man's cock had a mix of lube and cum all over it, some from last night dried on and a distinctly ass-like smell, although due to Marek's lack of eating and maybe a little luck, it at least didn't appear to have any actual shit smeared on it.

Marek took the man in his mouth once again. This was gross, too, but not painful. The act was made even more gross by the urine that was still dripping down from Marek's hair, onto the man's shaft as he sucked it, and into his mouth. Marek grimaced unhappily at the taste. Which was worse, he wondered? Piss or shit? As much as he hated the taste of piss, he decided shit was worse. It wasn't even a close call.

Tichy let the boy suck him clean for nearly a minute, then pulled him off. This was a little too tempting. Soon he could be enjoying a half-hour blowjob, and then they'd be late for breakfast and the kid's lessons, so … no. This was not the time. Tichy ran the shower and rinsed piss off his feet and the bathtub, but notably, he did not rinse Marek. Instead, he picked up a small towel and presented it to Marek with one hand, holding the still-running, lukewarm showerhead in the other as he gazed down at the boy to see how he would react to what Tichy had to say next.

"I'm not letting you carry on with your day without a nice, strong reminder of just how firm a grip I have on you, so you either just wipe off with towel now with no rinsing so you can smell and feel me on your skin all day, or you can wash and come into the kitchen for a paddling," he said. "It's your choice."

Marek looked up at the man with eyes that said, "Are you kidding me?" How could Tichy be this cruel all the time? It had to take a lot of effort. Just thinking up ways to humiliate him day after day had to be the man's full-time job. First the panties, and now this. Marek knew full well that he would stink of the man's piss, but that everybody would think he had pissed himself. He had already wet the bed once this term – thanks to Tichy, of course – and the other boys would assume that he had done so again. Either that, or they would think that Tichy had scared him so much after his ignominious return from being on the lam that he had pissed himself in fear.

It was mean and it was cruel, but Marek knew that Tichy wasn't kidding. "Can I at least rinse off my hair?" he tried to bargain with the man. "It's all over my hair."

"Dry or rinse and get a roasting that'll help keep you in line during the day," snapped Tichy. "You have lessons to go to and I can't have eyes on you nonstop. I will not risk that you'll forget yourself again. You'll either stink of my piss all over or you'll have a sore butt to remind you. There are no third or in-between options," Tichy retorted simply, "and don't try to bargain with me again. We're not haggling, Marek," he added quite sternly.

"Remember, I'm not just being pointlessly cruel," Tichy added, although he was mostly lying. "You are being punished. You did try to escape, and I told you there would be all sorts of unpleasant consequences if you did, this is just the first among them. Choose quickly, before I decide it'll be both; dried piss all over you and an ass-roasting," added Tichy, again quite firmly.

Marek's eyes flashed with hate as the man yelled at him, but from his kneeling, naked, piss-covered position in the bathtub, there he knew there was nothing he could do about the way he felt other than make things worse for himself. He channeled Tomáš. He was done with the old approach. The hate left his eyes, or mostly did, anyway.

"I'm sorry, sir," he answered, as his body gave a little shiver. The piss was already drying on his body; either that, or it was turning very cold. The man was right; he was being punished. Marek found himself almost agreeing with Tichy on that point.

He didn't like the sound of an ass-roasting, but nevertheless, Marek chose quickly. "I'll take the rinse and the paddling," he said unhappily. As much as he hated pain and feared a paddling, he knew that he couldn't go to class smelling like he had pissed himself and not washed it off.

"Good boy," said Tichy as he handed him the showerhead, leaving the towel on the side. "Rinse yourself, dry off, and meet me in the kitchen."

Marek took his time rinsing and washing off. He soaped and shampooed. He rinsed his mouth. He even basked in the warm water for a bit – as long as he dared, anyway, which wasn't very long. He did not want the ass-roasting Tichy had promised, so why not delay it for as long as possible? But he was very aware that Tichy could tell time, too, and that he had better not push things with the man, especially when he was about to hurt Marek on purpose. Why make things worse for himself? He dried himself quickly, spending a lot of time getting his butt cheeks as dry as he could get them. He didn't need any extra sting there from dampness.

By the time Marek was done washing and drying himself, Tichy already had his work clothes on and a mug of coffee ready. He smelled of cologne. He was sitting at the kitchen table sideways, like when Marek was deep throating him last night, except the bucket wasn't there, and was holding a small, flat, wooden spatula.

"Over my lap, chop, chop," he demanded as soon as Marek entered the room. "Let's get this over with – we have a breakfast to go to."

It was an unhappy, naked, worried-looking young boy who walked into Tichy's kitchen and eyed the man sitting there with the punishment implement in his hand. Marek had never seen a kitchen stirrer look so ominous before. He forced himself to be brave, but it was hard. Has a boy of 12 ever wanted to be paddled? Marek certainly didn't. But he went to the man and soon found himself draped over Tichy's lap. He knew this was going to hurt. A lot. That's when he started to shake.

"We may yet come out of this on good terms," commented Tichy when he noticed how afraid Marek was. "Finally, you obey and seem to respect me properly. Now normally I would spank slow to make you really feel the pain from each individual swat, but we're in a bit of a hurry and I'm more after making those buns sore for later, as a reminder, than hurting you as much as I can, so, take a deep breath, this will be fast," he warned.

Marek swallowed nervously as the man spoke – not an easy feat, that, as his head was dangling down at an angle, not quite upside down, but not far from it. The man's compliment made him feel a little better. If he had to be punished and obey the man, it was nice that Tichy was at least acknowledging how hard he was trying. Of course, none of that changed the terrible injustice of what Tichy was doing to him, but at least there was room for a little mercy while he was doing it.

The boy didn't like the words "sore" and "fast." Sore and fast added up to pain. Marek didn't like pain. He wanted to avoid pain, but of course, avoiding pain had set him down this path in the first place with Tichy. But not really, he realized. Tichy had planned to punish him for who he was one way or the other, no matter what route he had chosen back when they both were still pretending that this was about a cheat sheet that wasn't even Marek's. It was all so confusing.

Moments later, it began.

THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK! THWUCK!

The spatula rose and fell at nearly hammer-drill speed. There were no pauses between the sharp, stinging raps of the stirrer as it rained pain down on Marek's butt.

Marek's mind stopped meandering the moment the paddle hit. Ow. And then it kept going and going. Marek was trying to be good, truly he was. But it took only seconds before he was clenching his butt cheeks, wriggling, then writhing against the ferocity of the pain. He kept telling himself that it wasn't as bad as the cane. It might not even be as bad as the slipper. But it still fucking hurt!

Although they hurt, the blows weren't terribly forceful, and it looked as though they weren't even going to mark the boy too much and probably not bruise – at least until Tichy started to focus most of the swats into two select spots at the top of the arch of Marek's handsome, athletic butt cheeks, just above the ugly line caused by Radek's mishit with the cane. But once the rapid-fire smacks started to fall in those concentrated, very small areas – almost as small as the imprinted surface of the stirrer itself – the pain blossomed fiercely, and Marek's skin reddened and welted in what was almost the beginning of a blister.

Marek howled in pain. "Mr. Tichyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Mr. Tichyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhaaaaaa haaaaaaaa haaaaaaa!"

"It's too manyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Staaaaaaaahp! Mr. Tichyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! Waaaaa haaaaa haaaaaaaa!"

Tichy stopped when the spots on Marek's cheeks glowed like ripe apples. He hadn't counted the hits – no one did or could have – but it was at least one hundred blows or more, and now Marek's butt had two deep-scarlet little ovals, one on each butt cheek, glowing nice and hot.

"Good boy," Tichy said again as he dumped the kid to the floor. "Go put your clothes on. Your panties are on the top of the pile. Put them on! And hurry up; it's breakfast time," announced Tichy.

Marek hadn't wanted to cry. But his buns were being roasted just as the man had said they would, and as the man tipped him down, Marek's eyes were red and full of tears. He clutched at his bottom, squeezing his cheeks as hard as he could. He could feel the heat there. He sobbed, sniffled, and whimpered as the man gave him his instructions. He was still shaking as he went to put on his clothes, starting with the fucking panties. He was still sobbing when they left the apartment for the canteen.

What followed was not a normal day. They went to the canteen together, but it was uncomfortable to sit; Tichy wasn't kidding when he said the spanking would be a reminder of Marek's situation. Then Tichy walked him into his first class, exchanging a few words with the teacher that the boy overheard. Marek wouldn't be allowed to leave the class, not even for a piss. If he said he needed to go he was faking it and if he wet himself, so be it. He would be under constant adult supervision. Tichy would pick him up when his class was over and escort him to his next one.

And so it went, lesson after lesson. Math with Maly, history test with Drábek, geography with Hanák, then Russian. Tichy walked him into each class, spoke with his teacher, and left him, but he was there at the end each time, waiting for the boy, always policing him. He was there to take Marek to lunch and back and he was very much there during the afternoon p.e. class, which was mostly dodgeball and jumping on trampolines and fun. Marek didn't have any fun. He was blasted in dodgeball from multiple directions the moment the games started, and his obligatory turn on the trampoline was met with catcalls and derision from the other boys.

The day sucked, and it was embarrassing. Tichy walked him around like a prison warden, which wasn't far from the truth, even if he and Marek were the only ones to know just how apt that description was. Everyone gave him a wide berth, and none of the teachers called on him, but he felt eyes on him all day, and he heard whispers, too. Maybe they were just phantom whispers, like when you can feel a bug crawling on your leg but when you look down, it's not there. But even if the other boys weren't whispering about him now, they'd be talking about him later. Tichy made no effort to hide what he was doing to him. He was very much Marek's escort, to every class, to every place he needed to go. Even when he went to the bathroom, Tichy was there, standing guard.

It was all overkill, of course. Marek wasn't about to run away again. Where would he go? And with what? Tichy had made him give all his money to Radek, and that had hurt. Marek hadn't spent any money for almost two months, not a damn haléř except twice when he had to pay for his share of something all the boys were doing together. No snacks, no treats, nothing. He had carefully shepherded that money, saving it. And now it was gone, just like that. With his mother sick, he wasn't likely to have 18 koruny again anytime soon. Or any money, really. But that only mattered if he had a life to spend it on, and right now, he had no life. Not his own life, anyway. His life belonged to Tichy.

It was embarrassing the way the other kids looked at him. They all hated him, every single one of them. Now they also thought he was crazy. Nobody had ever run away from the school before, but the other kids didn't know what Tichy was doing to him. How many of them were being beaten and tortured? None! He was sure he was the only kid in the entire school dealing with that. The fact that Tichy was doing this to him and had turned the entire school against him at the same time was a double whammy. Even if he could ever demonstrate to Tichy that he had suffered enough for what his ancestors had done, all the kids here still would hate him. He could stand at the end of the hall handing out 200 koruny notes, and everybody still would hate him. There was never going to be a future for him here at the school. Even Tichy couldn't make people like him. He had permanently ruined that for Marek, all in the name of punishing him for what his ancestors had done. It wasn't fucking fair.

Marek's last class was cancelled as the teacher was unwell, and so he found himself back at the man's apartment by 3 p.m. Tomorrow there were no classes, so this was it. With a sense of real dread, Marek realized that the cover provided by having others around him was now gone. Everyone would be leaving – some this afternoon, and the rest tomorrow. Now he was alone with Tichy. Utterly, completely helplessly alone. The very break that he had most been looking forward to for the last month now scared him half to death.

Chapter 18

Things changed almost as soon as they walked into the apartment. There was tension in the air as Tichy ushered Marek into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out what looked initially like a piece of string but was instead a long bootlace.

"Hands up," commanded Tichy as he tugged the boy's trousers and panties down to his knees. He quickly tied the lace tightly around Marek's scrotum so the boy's balls were under unpleasant tension, then looped it around his cock several times. He snickered as the youngster's penis stiffened under his touch but made sure the string around the balls would stay there even if Marek went totally limp. He tied the bootlace to another one just as long, pulled it between Marek's legs and up his butt crack, and then pulled his panties and trousers back up.

With his arms still in the air like a captured soldier, Marek watched as the man trussed his genitals with the string. He didn't know what Tichy was up to, but it didn't matter. Marek just hoped it wouldn't hurt too much. The boy knew that from this point on, he was beginning two weeks of hell that it would take a lot of cunning and willpower to survive. Just obey, he said to himself as he channeled Tomáš. Obey and survive.

"Put your coat on," Tichy instructed the boy. "You can test your radius, but do it slowly or you'll hurt yourself," he warned as he put his own coat on and then tied the free end of the bootlace to his wrist.

With the boy's coat on, the grey, round, boring bootlace was almost invisible as it trailed out of the back of Marek's pants, and Tichy nodded in satisfaction. He grabbed a big shopping bag that had other bags stuffed inside it and headed out the door.

"We're going shopping," he advised the youngster. "You're clinging to me like you're a toddler anxious not to lose sight of his mommy. Forget yourself even for a moment and it will hurt," warned Tichy, as he lifted his right arm and tugged moderately at the bootlace to demonstrate.

"Owww!" moaned Marek as the man demonstrated the efficiency of the cock leash. The boy knew that he would be staying close – very close – wherever the heck they were going. But shopping? Marek was stunned. Shopping? In stores? Like this? Tichy was crazy. The man was insane. What was it they all said here in Brod? He was "Maxov-level" insane. But at the same time, Marek knew that going out was better than staying in to be punished and tortured, even if his balls already were throbbing. Tichy couldn't very well beat him if they were out in public – or piss on him, or make him lick his asshole, or put acid on his dick.

Tichy locked the flat and led Marek down the stairs, out the main gate and down into town. They stopped at the Jednota and the Perla and made a separate trip to the butcher's shop. They had to walk all the way across town and up the hill to a larger Jednota because the one closer to the internat was half sold out. The butcher, luckily, had a good selection of pork, ham, and sausages. Tichy didn't seem to worry about the expense as he stuffed bag after bag after bag with food.

They ended up going into four separate shops. Tichy was a bit annoyed because none of the merchants had any nice fish, like mackerel or salmon. Nobody had bananas or oranges anymore, either. It was too late in the day for good produce, but on that front, Tichy wasn't too concerned. They had plenty of potatoes, rice, and meat, some decent vegetables – mostly canned and long-shelf-life stuff – as well as flour, sugar, vinegar, and other condiments. Tichy had mayonnaise and other ingredients for a Czech potato salad, so overall they had made out just fine.

The large Jednota had gherkins, but only in the gigantic, gallon-sized jars. Tichy wasn't going leave without them, so one of the bags ended up being quite heavy, and Marek had to carry some of the lighter ones back. Each time Tichy picked up an item, paid for it at the register, or lifted a shopping bag, Marek could feel the bootlace tug on his genitals. It already was hurting his balls just from being tied too tight, which was Tichy's plan, but what the man perhaps didn't quite realize was each tug also was pulling the back of Marek's trousers down, forcing Marek to continually pull them back up over his bruised and purple buttocks that hurt like hell.

The trip into town was surreal to Marek, and not because in his three months at the school, this was only his second trip into Zelezny Brod and only his third time leaving the campus in general. The first time he had left campus was on a class excursion into Brod just a week into the term, and the second time was just yesterday, during his ill-fated escape attempt. Nor was the trip made surreal because he was literally attached to the man by a leash tied around his genitals. That was weird, painful, embarrassing, crazy, and a whole lot of other things, too. But what made the trip truly surreal for the boy, to a level approaching astonishment, was how many stores Tichy visited, how many things he purchased, and how much money he spent!

Marek had never seen such spending. Back home in Vacenovice, his mother couldn't have afforded to buy in two months of careful shopping what Tichy had just bought in a single trip! There simply wasn't the money for that kind of spending in the Hurta household. The meats alone would have been a two- or three-month supply for Marek and his mother to share. As the man shopped and shopped, Marek concluded to his astonishment that Tichy must eat meat with every meal!

Marek was impressed and envious, but he couldn't help but ponder the ramifications of what he had seen. Either the internat paid very, very well – which Marek highly doubted – or Tichy must have money coming in from other sources. It wouldn't be at all surprising if he did, considering the connections he was rumored to have and his seeming importance outside of the school. Marek was a full believer in those things now. Two army trucks, a command vehicle, two dozen soldiers in red berets, motorcycles, and a helicopter had made him a believer. Tichy was connected alright, and he had friends in high places – literally, in the case of the pilots in the helicopter that had tracked Marek during his escape attempt!

But the food – it was amazing to Marek what the man had just spent on it. It seemed that the grandson of the man Marek's grandfather had killed and the son of the couple his grandfather had virtually enslaved was doing a whole lot better than the destitute daughter-in-law and grandson of the Glass King. It occurred to Marek that perhaps if the man knew just how poor the Hurtas were now, he wouldn't feel quite as strongly about punishing Marek for something he hadn't even done. But then again, Tichy probably wouldn't care about that. He liked being cruel to Marek. That was as obvious as the fact that he also liked using the boy for sex, beating him, and humiliating him in front of the entire school. When it came to Marek, Tichy probably would beat and torture him without any justification at all, just because he could. Marek was vulnerable, alone, far from home, and his mother was sick. That was all a guy like Tichy needed to take advantage of him.

As they walked back to the school from Brod, Marek found it difficult to carry the bags and keep his trousers pulled up at the same time. Whenever he or Tichy moved out of synch with each other – which could be something as simple a change in stride – the boy got a tug on his balls and his pants were forced a little lower in the back. He kept pulling them back up, over and across his sore bottom, which still smarted from the paddling that Tichy had given him. (The word "paddling" always sounded so quaint to Marek, almost like "slippering." It was funny how they came up with innocuous-sounding names for horrific beatings that hurt like blazing hell. The term "caning" didn't seem to do justice to what happens when a thin cylinder of wood impacted a naked backside. Marek thought that maybe they should change the names to something more representative of reality, like "horrendous butt-slaughtering beating" or "torturous welt-causing bashing," or something like that.)

As they walked back toward the school, Marek wondered idly if Tichy was going to share any of the delicious-looking food with him. He didn't really expect him to. After all, Marek was his prisoner and was being punished for the entire break, probably on bread and water or something like that – but a boy could hope, couldn't he? Tichy had to feed him something, didn't he?

Suddenly, Marek was consumed with worry. Aside from a single candy bar – which Marek promptly had tossed in the garbage – the only thing Tichy ever had fed him consisted of cold, disgusting pig slop mixed with Tichy's cum, and that had been served in a dog bowl that Marek had eaten on his knees on the floor with his hands tied behind his back and a plug of ginger root up his butt. Marek desperately tried to blot out of his thoughts the other thing Tichy had made him eat that horrific day in the gym boiler room. Now Tichy was responsible for his meals for the next two weeks! Marek almost groaned with misery. He hadn't even thought about that until now. There was no canteen. There was only Tichy, and Marek was 100% reliant on him for food!

For his part, Tichy wasn't even aware Marek was impressed with all the shopping. As the second-most senior person at the school, he was reasonably well paid by Czech standards. Combined with free lodging (unlike other teachers, he had nowhere else to stay, but that also meant no other bills to pay), free food, and largely inexpensive tastes, it was relatively easy for him to save up to indulge a bit during breaks and holidays. Tichy had some savings, as well. There was a reason why he was a supporter of socialism – he was doing quite all right in the system. Things may have been more difficult if he liked to travel or had some exotic tastes or hobbies, or even if he had kids that he couldn't squeeze in his small flat in the former monastery, but none of that was the case. His main hobby was young boys; they were abundant at the school, and they cost him virtually nothing, so that's where he liked to be.

Of course, Tichy wasn't doing quite as well as the miners in Ostrava. Those guys sometimes had more money than they could realistically spend in a system that was continually short of ordinary goods and particularly bereft of luxury goods. No matter how much Czech currency you had, unless you found a way to get bony [Author's note: government-issued shadow currency used to purchase imported goods], you couldn't go to a Tuzex. And if you couldn't go to a Tuzex, you couldn't buy anything imported from the West – certainly not anything premium or expensive, let alone anything outlandish or opulent.

But Tichy didn't much care about any of that. In his mind, living in opulence and being spoiled for choice were symptoms of Western decadence. He had never once bought anything in a Tuzex, and he was proud of that fact. Rotten Western capitalists could keep their overpriced treats and toys. He had all he needed to be happy right here in Brod and at the internat, including certain indulgences that probably weren't available to Ostrava miners or almost anyone else. Here, he had a continuous stream of fresh young boys to select from, and select he did, choosing a new boy or two to use and abuse each year. This year, after some careful and devious planning, he had gone well above and way beyond all that, and was now well into uncharted, unlimited, amazing territory with Marek Hurta, the Glass King's hapless grandson.

"We're still in time for supper," Tichy told the boy as they walked back toward the school. "I haven't decided about breakfast tomorrow, but after that, the canteen's closed, and you'll have to survive on bachelor cooking skills. The bright side being I won't be too worried about you eating your vegetables," snorted Tichy, who was unaware that he was addressing something that was a real worry for the boy.

Marek indeed was relieved to hear Tichy joke about his cooking skills – at least, he was mostly relieved. Even Tichy wouldn't be so cruel as to make him eat his meals from a dog bowl with the food all covered in cum, would he? Marek was pretty sure he wouldn't, but he had learned not to underestimate what Tichy was willing to do to humiliate and torture him. Then again, cold, cum-soaked eggs and vegetables wouldn't be the worst thing the man had ever made him eat, not by far. Not by far.

Once inside the flat, Tichy put the shopping bags down.

"Stand right here," he told the boy as he untied the lace from his wrist and started to put things away. He then peeled Marek's trousers and panties down to his knees once more and carefully untied the unpleasant bondage from around the boy's genitals. He also stole a glance at the kid's backside to admire his handywork from the morning beating with the stir-stick. It was funny: The pinkness and light redness from the collateral spanks was gone, and all that remained were the two oval patches that he had tattooed into the kid's bottom with the stirrer. Those wounds were still purple in color and highly visible on the boy's skin, almost like a pair of eyes high on his butt cheeks.

Marek was relieved when the man removed the string – or maybe he should call it the leash – from around his stuff. His balls hurt quite a bit now. They'd been through a lot in the last 24 hours or so, and Marek was hoping to spare them any additional trauma. He was in full Tomáš mode: obey, be good, survive.

"Okay," said Tichy. "Coat and hat off, trousers back up, let's go and eat," he announced and led the way to the canteen for what would be their last evening meal provided by the school for the next two weeks.

When they arrived at the canteen it was the same as earlier in the day. Everyone but everyone gave them both a wide berth. Tichy made it obvious that he was escorting Marek by not letting the boy out of his sight. It made Marek feel like he was back in kindergarten, but he knew that he had brought it on himself, and by this point, his reputation was so shot that it hardly mattered anymore what his classmates thought of him.

This time, it was Bořek Tauš who slipped into a chair across from Marek and joined him for the meal.

"Duuuuuuuuuuuude," he sprawled, stretching the word out until he ran out of breath. "You realize if these kids weren't totally – what's the word? pre-ju-diced against you – you'd be a fucking hero just about now, and everyone would be begging you to tell them what the F happened, right? As it is, they hate you," he shrugged matter-of-factly, "but you're still a fucking legend. Escaping! Trying to steal a helicopter – that's the popular theory, anyway," he chuckled. "Or hijack a plane. I mean there has to be a reason why the red berets brought you back, right?" he snorted. "I bet it was just Tichy's ploy, but dude, kids around here believe you're pretty damn badass, even if they don't quite like the idea."

"I heard about your Christmas, like being stuck here," he continued. "That sucks. Want to borrow some comics or something? I also have football player cards, but I doubt Tichy will play cards with you," said Bořek as he gave Marek a grin.

Marek was surprised when Bořek sat with him. He just wasn't sure what to make of the kid. Early on, it seemed like Tauš didn't like him, just like everyone else. Then there had been that incident on the football field when Tauš could have become even more angry and resentful toward him, but the opposite seemed to have occurred. The boy had apologized for what he said, and since then he had gone to bat for Marek a few times. Marek wasn't sure why. He didn't want to be pitied by Tauš, but the boy genuinely seemed to want to be friends. Maybe it just made him seem eccentric to his peers to be seen with Marek. Perhaps that was the look he was going for.

Marek didn't want to be a celebrity for his escape attempt. He wanted to forget all about it. It hadn't gone well at all. In fact, it had gone embarrassingly poorly when Tichy had called out the army on him.

"Thanks for reminding me everybody here hates me," he told the other boy wryly. "But it wasn't like that. I was just trying to get a train to Prague. Comrade Tichy is friends with some guys in the army, that's all it was," he explained. "All I wanted to do was go home," he added glumly. "My mother's sick, and I just wanted to see her." He looked away after he spoke, afraid that he might become embarrassingly emotional in front of the other boy.

"Gee, man, sorry," said Bořek. "Didn't mean to upset you or anything. I think it's cool that you tried. I mean … kind of dumb, but cool. You're like that, aren't you? A bit nuts maybe, but cool. I like you, dude. I hope you'll be okay after two weeks with Mr. Very Proper Socialist Citizen," snorted Tauš, "and you know, we can hang out more in the new year if you want. Maybe he'll finally get bored of messing with you and then we can play cards, and races and bets, and some other shit," said the boy with a mischievous wink.

"Sorry about your mom, too," Tauš continued as he only belatedly realized the implications of Marek's words. "That sucks. Will she be okay?" he asked, as he kept shoveling the canteen's not-quite-spaghetti, not-really-Bolognese into his mouth.

Marek nodded and responded in all the right places as Bořek spoke. The kid was trying to be friendly, and Marek wasn't sure why he found it so hard to reciprocate. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that unlike Tomáš or even Radek, Tauš had no idea what was going on. He didn't know about Tichy. To Bořek, Marek just looked nuts. Dumb, and a bit exotic in a twisted way perhaps, but at the end of the day, Tauš surely thought he was crazy. Yet he had no idea what had happened to Marek or what he was going through. That made it hard for Marek to relate, but the boy needed every friend he could get, and he resolved to try harder with Tauš.

When Tauš mentioned Tichy even by the benign nickname he had given him, Marek looked nervously over to where the man was sitting. Tichy wasn't even paying attention, and there was no possible way he could have overheard them, but nevertheless Tauš was taking a risk by talking about the man like that. Tichy seemed to know everything. Even without paying attention, it seemed like he might be able to know or hear what the two boys were saying. But thankfully, this time Tichy seemed oblivious. There was simply no way he could have heard the comments, and that gave Marek an idea.

"Yeah, I'd like that, hanging out and stuff," he told the other boy. "And thanks for asking about my mom, too. I hope she'll be okay. This has happened before, but … " he said as his voice trailed off.

"Hey, um, Bořek?" he asked the other kid, as his eyes flitted nervously back to Tichy once again. "Can I ask you something?"

Bořek looked up, a little surprised.

"Yeah, dude. Sure. Like what?" The boy seemed curious and perplexed, and maybe he even was. Or perhaps he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for. Anyway, despite not knowing why Bořek was trying to become friends with him, Marek was essentially right: Tauš really didn't know, at least didn't quite know, what Tichy was up to with Marek and what was going on behind closed doors. Tauš had had the misfortune of having to deal with a very angry Tichy and had been scared enough to play ball and strike a deal with the man, but he had never had to deal with balls-deep-in-his-ass Tichy, or any other aspects of Tichy that were all too familiar to Marek.

Marek's eyes flitted back to Tichy as his heart rate started to climb. He no longer was channeling Tomáš with what he planned to ask and possibly tell the other boy. He knew that he was navigating in very dangerous waters, especially under the circumstances. He swallowed nervously, looked back at Tichy once again, and leaned a little closer, just a few inches away, his head hovering over his plate.

"Do you know anybody, like, in the VB?" he whispered to Tauš nervously. "Someone you know, or in your family, or something? Someone you trust? Someone you really, really trust, like maybe your father grew up with him, or something?"

"Nah, dude," replied Tauš dismissively as he pushed back from the table a little bit, distancing himself from Marek. He shook his head. "Sorry, but you're barking up the wrong tree there. My dad works in a factory, my mom's a seamstress, and my uncle works in a JZD [Author's note: forcefully collectivized farm unit]. Our family is quite boring that way. No famous ancestors or shit like that. No powerful connections. Whatever you and Tichy have going on, there are also us normal people around," said Tauš a little cuttingly, "without epic, legendary, and mysterious roots, or famous connections." He let that statement sit for a moment before continuing.

"I don't even want to know why you're asking me," said Tauš. "I'm not going against Tichy to the police if that's what you're implying. The guy's an asshole," he whispered, "but a dangerous asshole. I don't want anything to do with him for or against him," added Bořek, and that much was true: He didn't really want anything to do with the man, even if he already was on the payroll so to speak.

"No, no, it's not about him," Marek lied, as Tauš made it clear he couldn't help and wouldn't even if he could. "I'm just- I was just wondering. Just … forget I asked," he said, as he looked over at Tichy once again. This time, the man was looking at him – right at him – and Marek's blood ran cold. They locked eyed for a moment, and to Marek it was like something out of a horror movie. Had Tichy heard what he had asked Tauš? Or did he somehow simply know?

Marek looked away from Tichy and went into full damage-control mode with the other boy.

"I was thinking, um, when I get older, maybe I might want to go into the VB," Marek lied awkwardly. "You, know, for like a job and stuff. I don't know anyone in the VB either, so I don't have anybody ask about it, you know … "

He stole another look at Tichy, but the man had turned his attention elsewhere once again, and Marek breathed a sigh of relief. "It's no big deal," he added. "Just … forget I asked, okay?"

"How does Drábek put it?" asked Bořek. "You have to think politically, dude. You can't be a cop – not you. You'd better learn a lot about glass unless you want to take Vacha's place when he retires, you know?" said Bořek, a little sadly. There was something odd and a bit creepy about a not-that-smart twelve-year-old with a simple, working-class background understanding all too well that his would-be friend wasn't going be a cop or hold any other position involving him carrying a gun or doing anything at all important all because of the sins of his grandfather and his father. That it didn't even seem odd to the boy to know and understand that as a fact of life was emblematic of Communist Czechoslovakia in the late 1970s.

Marek listened as Tauš told him what he pretty much already knew from Tichy. It was a real wake-up call to learn at a young age that you were completely fucked in life because of things that had happened either long before or shortly after you were born. Marek really hadn't had a clue about any of that before he came to the internat and had learned what an outcast he really was. His mother had sheltered him, and although he was angry about that, he could see why. He was an only child, and she was a widow. The circumstances of his father's disappearance had been difficult for her to deal with much less talk about. She had babied Marek – he knew that now. But if only she had not been so naive to the danger of sending him back to Liberec. Now he was trapped here, far from home, at a boarding school where everyone hated him and wanted to do him harm.

"Glass is good, though," shrugged Bořek. "I think I want to be a glass blower, if I can't get into the league, you know, and play football."

Their conversation was cut short soon though as Tichy finished his food and shortly after came to check to see how much Marek had eaten. Marek desperately wanted Tauš to say out loud that the conversation had been forgotten, but the kid kept talking, and suddenly Tichy was upon them. Marek had eaten everything for a change. He still wasn't entirely sure what his next two weeks of meals would bring, and he was worried about starving.

"Ready to go?" asked Tichy neutrally, although Marek well knew the answer the man wanted to hear.

"Yes, sir," Marek said, with a careful politeness that Tauš noted. The other boy could tell that Marek was intimidated by Tichy, but who wasn't at the school? Plus, Marek had gotten his ass roasted by the guy not much more than a week ago, and he was probably going to get it again for running away if he hadn't already. Hell, Tauš was intimidated by the guy, and all he'd gotten was a few whacks with the cane over his football kit.

Marek looked at Tauš one last time as he stood up. He gave him a little shake of his head, begging the boy with his eyes to not say anything and to forget that the conversation about the VB had ever taken place. Thankfully, Tauš didn't say anything and moments later, Marek and Tichy were on their way back toward the staff wing and Tichy's flat.

As Marek walked slowly away from the canteen, he had a sense of foreboding. Apart from possibly breakfast tomorrow, this was it and he knew it. He wouldn't see any other boys for the next two weeks or more. Nor would he be in the canteen, the classrooms, or even the dorm. He instead would be full-time with Mr. Tichy, the man who hated him and who had brought him to the school to punish and torture him for what his ancestors had done. Tichy had been nice so far – save for the butt-roasting he had given the boy this morning – but Marek had no illusions that the man was done punishing him for running away. The man had said he hadn't started that punishment yet; Marek's dick and balls had been punished for wanking, and he had chosen this morning's punishment. And even if he were finished punishing him for running away, Tichy still wouldn't be done punishing him for being named Hurta. As he walked, he again channeled Tomáš. The older boy had given Marek good advice so far; he just hoped it would continue to hold.

Into the apartment they went. The door clicked shut and locked, and to Marek, it sounded like a cell door closing. Once they were inside, Tichy glared at Marek and clicked his fingers with a nod. He hoped that Marek knew the drill by now. He also hoped that Marek realized he wasn't going wear anything, or at least anything normal, for the next two weeks. That was the drill now for the Hurta boy, enter the flat and strip down to his bare butt.

The click of the fingers was enough to get Marek stripping quickly and going down to his hands and knees, supplicating himself before the man, his face an inch above the floor. Tichy waited until the boy was naked and where he should be before speaking again.

"I just want you to know that right now is the moment after which no one needs to see you, the state of you, the state of your butt and the whole of the rest of you, for the next two weeks," declared Tichy. "We don't need to go to breakfast tomorrow. From now on, how bad I hurt you, punish you, and mark you is entirely up to me, without any worries about the other boys, your teachers, Skala, or anyone else. From this point on, you'll be getting everything I think you deserve, unmitigated, and no holding back. Understood?"

Marek listened as Tichy confirmed what Marek already knew. It was bleak. It was true. None of it was remotely fair, but that was one lesson the boy had learned well, that fairness didn't matter here at the internat, not one little bit.

"Yes, sir," said Marek to the floor.

"Time to start then," announced Tichy. "Bedroom," he said as he motioned Marek toward it with a little kick to the kid's butt. Marek obeyed and crawled into the bedroom as Tichy followed him in.

"Lie on your back on the floor with your butt close to the foot of the bed, spread your arms for support, and lift your feet straight up against the footboard," commanded Tichy. "We're going to teach your running-away, treacherous feet a lesson in obedience," he added as he walked to his dresser and extracted a length of rope from the middle drawer.

Marek tried to channel Tomáš with all his might, but he was very, very scared. He did as the man instructed, lying on his back with his legs upright against the footboard, but this was new to him, and he was frightened. He watched in fear as the man brought the rope over and began to secure his legs to the footboard, one at a time. Marek's body now formed a right angle, with his legs secured against the footboard perpendicular to the floor. His feet stuck up in the air about a foot [30cm] above the level of the mattress. He could move his feet and ankles, but he could not bend his knees or move his legs, nor could he free himself from the bed.

"What are you going do to me?" he asked Tichy in a querulous voice. Marek was so nervous that the words came out even before he knew he had said them.

"I'm going to tickle your treacherous, deceitful feet," said Tichy matter-of-factly. "If you can take it, that may be all I do. But if you can't, if your feet disobey me and move at all, I'm going to show them what will happen the next time they try to run off with you," he said as he returned to the drawer and extracted a medium-sized cane and a ball of twine. He placed the twine on the bed and dropped the cane casually onto Marek's stomach. The boy knew that cane. He had seen and felt it before.

Marek moaned in fear as the man explained what was to come. The boy didn't like the sound of this game at all. Marek was very ticklish, and he knew that he would not be able to keep his feet from moving. It was a game that was designed for him to fail, and he knew it. He knew that Tichy knew it, too. Seeing the cane right there, balanced on his abdomen just inches above his naked groin, caused his heart to palpitate. His chest was already beginning to rise and fall rapidly with panting breaths.

"It's time to start your punishment, Marek," announced Tichy as he took one of the boy's slender feet in each hand. "I warned you what would happen if you tried to run, but you defied me," he added sadly.

Marek blanched. It was time to start his punishment? What exactly did that mean? Tichy seemed to be giving him a chance, but Marek was under no illusions as to how that was going to work out. Making a game out of it was mean, as was caning somebody on their feet. Who did that? Who did that to a kid?

Marek tried very hard to keep a neutral expression. But it was difficult. His blood ran cold as he realized that Tichy very well may intend to torture him for the next two weeks. It wasn't fair! It wasn't fucking fair at all! Why did Tichy have to do this to him? Why?

"I'll test your feet for obedience. Keep them exposed and flat the entire time, no matter what, understood?" asked Tichy. "If they move at all and try to avoid my touch, we'll switch to the cane."

Then the man started tickling Marek's feet in earnest, digging his fingers into the soft, sensitive fleshy parts between the boy's heels and toes.

Marek tried to hold it; he really did. He tensed, his muscles flexed, he held his breath, his hands clenched, and his body squirmed. But then, as he knew it would, it became too much for him to bear, and with a gasp, he moved his feet and attempted to extract them from the man's grasp. He looked up at Tichy unhappily and swallowed. There was no sense in apologizing. The game was designed for him to fail, and he had just failed it.

Tichy said nothing but stopped the tickling immediately. Silently, he grabbed the ball of twine from the bed, extracted a length of it, and snapped it off in his hands. He tied one end to the boy's big right toe, then pulled the twine down and secured the other end tight to the slat of wood at the base of the footboard. This had the effect of pulling Marek's foot back at a right ankle to his leg, stretching it, and rendering it unable to move. Tichy repeated the process on the boy's left foot, then picked up the cane from Marek's abdomen and waved it back and forth a few times, making that familiar whooshing sound through the air that Marek so feared and detested.

"Fun and games are over, Marek," he announced. "You can't say I didn't give you a chance," he said sadly. "All you needed to do to avoid this punishment and prove your newfound obedience to me was keep your feet steady and not move them, but you weren't able to do even something that simple, were you wimp?" he asked with a forlorn shake of his head. He was gaslighting the boy in the extreme and enjoying every second of it.

"I'm going to punish you now for defiance, insubordination, disobedience, and a whole host of other things," Tichy continued. "You won't forget this, I promise. I'm a firm believer that the punishment should fit the crime, and just as your bits were punished for wanking without my permission, your feet will now be punished for running away in open defiance of my specific warnings. What I am about to do will serve as a useful reminder of what will happen if you ever decide to try to run away again."

Without further ado, Tichy reared back with the cane and brought it down with full force on the exposed, sensitive sole of the boy's right foot. It landed with a meaty THWCIK!!! as the rattan bit into Marek's flesh with brute force, igniting the bottom of the boy's foot in an intense flare of agony before leaving a distinct, red line almost as thick as a finger in its wake.

For Marek, the pain instantly was excruciating. Like any other school kid, the boy spent nearly all his waking hours in footwear; as a result, the soles of his feet were soft and smooth with no thickness or callouses. When the cane sliced down on his sensitive flesh, Marek screamed long and hard. It wasn't a normal-sounding scream or any type of natural sound. It was instead frantic and animalistic, high-pitched, keening, thin for lack of breath, and almost warbling in its tonality.

It was a good, solid scream, and Tichy reveled in it. His cock began to harden with the knowledge that with what he had planned for the boy, there would be many, many more screams like that to come.

"You will not avoid me," Tichy instructed the unhappy boy. "You will not hide from me. You will not run away from me. Until you finish your fourth year here, you will do exactly as I say, instantly, and every time, do you understand me, Marek Hurta?" he demanded as he raised the cane once again. He waited a moment for the youngster to answer, but whatever Marek said wasn't going to change what he planned to do.

Tichy reached up and brought the cane down on Marek's right foot once again with another, resounding THWICKK! sound. As he knew it would be, his aim was true, and a second red line appeared parallel and adjacent to the first. Two red lines, side by side, the first starting just past the boy's heel in the soft, meaty interior of his foot, and the second right alongside it.

The cane bit down again, and to the boy, it was devastating. Marek squealed with the pain and then screamed once again. It hurt so much. It was agony. Two was enough. He had learned his lesson. His right foot was on fire. But Marek knew that Tichy wouldn't stop with two. He wouldn't stop with 10. If the past was any guide, this was going to go on and on.

"Mr. Tichy," he sobbed. "Please." He was trembling now. "Please don't d-do this to me."

"You were specifically warned about running way, Marek," said Tichy calmly. "This is just the start of your punishment for that. You deliberately disobeyed me. You tried to make me look like a fool in front of the entire school. I warned you what would happen if you tried to run, and now look at you. You have only yourself to blame," added Tichy darkly.

Marek was hyperventilating with pain and fear. This was just the start of his punishment? The start? His foot was on fire. How was Marek going to make it through two weeks when he was already in this much pain in the first five minutes? He knew he had messed up by trying to run away. He knew it and regretted it – deeply regretted it. He already regretted it so much.

Tichy raised the cane once again and Marek's beating resumed.

THWICK!!! "No avoiding me!"

THWICK!!! "No hiding!"

THWICK!!! "No running away!"

And so it went, blow after blow, as Tichy decorated the boy's right foot with stripes. Marek screamed and screamed until his voice gave out, all the while blubbering, squirming, and thrashing about on the floor. He could not move his legs or feet to save his life. His feet were completely exposed, soles up and toes tied down, as Tichy beat him.

The pain was unimaginable. Marek thought that Tichy might have found something worse than a bare-bottom caning to hurt him with, and the boy hadn't thought that was possible. The 12-year-old was unfamiliar with the term bastinado. In his mind, Tichy had invented this torment, punishing Marek's feet for their disobedience just as he had punished the boy's testicles for theirs.

Tichy took his sweet time, caning the boy with full-forced strikes across his sole, trying to spread the blows to redden the kid's foot from just under his toes almost to this heel. He was aiming for the softer fleshy part of the foot, never hitting directly on the bony parts. He didn't want to break anything; permanent damage wasn't what he was after.

What he was after was pain. Memorable pain. Agony, even. He had warned Marek not to run, and the boy had run anyway. This was deserved. Perhaps the Glass King punishments were a bit unfair to the kid in a cosmic sense – not that Tichy cared – but this was not. When Tichy gave a boy at the school a specific, direct instruction, he expected it to be carried out, and if it wasn't, there was going to be hell to pay every time. That was especially true in the case of a 12-year-old, first-year boy, and it was especially, especially true in the case of a kid named Marek Hurta.

Marek couldn't even pretend to be brave. He had screamed from the first blow, and he kept screaming as long as his lungs, voice, and energy held out. As the beating continued relentlessly, the boy was reduced to plaintive squeals and cries as Tichy tattooed warnings and instructions into the sole of his right foot. Marek couldn't believe the ferocity of the pain. It was unimaginable. He almost passed out.

Tichy finished his first delicious pass down the crying boy's right foot, then doubled back at an angle and beat another tattoo of lines directly across the first set, crosshatching his way from heel to toe once again. By this point Marek was frantic with pain, his body twisting and turning on the floor, his head rising and falling, his face wet with tears and snot. At one point, he reached out for Tichy's leg, not to push it away but to grab it, cradling it in the crook of his arm as he wailed, begged, and carried on.

"Mr. Tichyyyyy! Please! Please!" Marek squealed as he clung awkwardly to the man's ankle like a lifeline. The sole of his right foot throbbed, stung, and burned as he sobbed. He was gasping for breath and very distraught. He was frantic to stop the pain. "Please!" he whimpered. "I'm begging you! I'm begging you, Mr. Tichy!" Marek desperately needed Tichy to understand how sorry he was. He would do anything to stop the pain. He was so sorry, so very, very sorry.

"I won't hide, Mr. Tichyyyyyy! Please! I won't runnnn! Please! Mr. Tichy, please, please, please!"

Tichy ignored the boy as he continued to lay blow after blow into the boy's sensitive foot. Finally, after the second pass had left the bottom of Marek's foot a raw, welted mass of abused flesh, Tichy stopped. He perched himself on the foot of the bed and looked down at the distraught, teary-eyed boy. With his right hand, he reached up and gently caressed the youngster's tortured foot. It was hot to the touch, and the raised, angry lines gave it an interesting, corrugated feel.

Tichy waited patiently for a while until the boy had stopped thrashing about and his squeals, cries, and voiceless screams had been reduced to mere whimpers.

"I told you not to run, Marek," the man explained almost apologetically in a soft voice. "This didn't have to happen. I had all sorts of fun things planned for us over the break. I was looking forward to some companionship, but you went ahead and ruined it."

Marek could barely hear the man for his pain. His foot was an inferno of agony. Even though the strokes themselves had stopped, lightning bolts of pain kept knifing through the bottom of it every couple of seconds, seemingly up to his mid-calf. The intensity of it rivaled or even surpassed his first caning. It was a holocaust of pain. It was agony.

"I'm s-sorry Mr. Tichy," he whimpered. He was truly sorry. So very, very sorry.

"I know you are, Marek," said Tichy soothingly as he stood up from the bed once again.

He walked to the other side of the boy where Marek's unblemished left foot was stretched bottom-up facing the ceiling. The smooth, taut white skin of Marek's unmarked foot contrasted starkly with the horror show that had become his right. Tichy planned to rectify that imbalance soon.

"If you hadn't defied me so brazenly and outrageously, I might have been inclined to show you some mercy, Marek," the man explained calmly as he moved into position. "But it really wouldn't make much difference to stop now," he said almost sadly. "Do you want to know why?"

"Nooo," Marek sobbed, less in answer to the question than in protest of the fact that his punishment was about to resume.

Tichy smiled at the child's response but ultimately ignored it. "Because once your first foot gets the cane, you can't walk anyway, so I might as well do the second," he explained patiently. "Does that make sense?"

"Nooo!" Marked said again as he sobbed and shook his head back and forth. It was unfathomable that his punishment – this part of his punishment, anyway – was only half over. He wanted to die.

"Mr. Tichy … please," the boy gasped, as his chest and stomach rose and fell. "It hurts so much!" he wept. "I'm begging you not to!"

"You should have thought of that before you tried to run, Marek," said the disciplinarian as he gave the boy's left foot a little caress. The bottom of it was cool and smooth to the touch, and oh, so soft. It seemed almost a shame to damage it, but Tichy's cock was rock hard at the prospect. Rock fucking hard. "I'm sorry, but it has to be done," he intoned resolutely.

Tichy proceeded to do it. He beat the boy's left foot methodically, systematically, mercilessly, and thoroughly, matching the striping on the other foot blow, for blow, for blow, until the boy's left foot had taken the same 20, full-forced whacks as the right one and its condition looked much the same. As if he were wearing a pair of red-and-purple socks, the bottoms of Marek's feet matched once again, and everything was back in harmony.

Marek was not in harmony. He was in distress. He was in agony. The bottoms of his feet felt like they had been dipped in gasoline and ignited. All he could do was cry. He didn't think he had ever felt such pain before, and he didn't think it ever would be surpassed – even if Tichy had a track record of proving him wrong about such things. Either way, this one was bad. His feet throbbed and glowed with pain. If it had been an available option, he would have considered amputation. His feet hurt that much.

Indeed, Marek was a basket case of unhappy boy. He was traumatized and exhausted. He lay still, prone on his back, sobbing, his legs straight up in the air and his arms splayed out to either side like he had been frozen in the act of making some sort of weird, three-dimensional snow angel. He wasn't sure he could move, and he wasn't sure he wanted to move ever again.

Tichy dragged the tip of the cane across the nicely red, striped, swollen feet that he had unleashed fiery agony on over the course of the last ten minutes or so.

Marek whimpered in fear as the man drew the cane across the bottoms of his feet. The kid was trembling as he spoke.

"Please Mr. Tichy, please, please, I'm begging you, it hurrrrts!" he sobbed as the man spoke to him. God did it hurt. It hurt so much.

"All well and good," the man said, as he continued to draw the cane across the boy's tortured soles. "No hiding. No avoiding. No running. Is that a promise, boy?" he demanded. "A promise I can rely on?" he added, with emphasis in his tone. He didn't attach any specific or else or threat to his demand, but the cold, hard seriousness of his demeanor spoke of graveyard-level darkness.

"No – yes, yes, yes, I won't," the boy stammered in his anxiety. "I promise, oh, please Mr. Tichy. I'll never run again! I won't hide – please stop beating me," he sobbed. "Please, please stop."

Tichy couldn't help but smile. This was good. In addition to the fun of wrecking the boy's pale, soft feet, he hoped the lesson really was hitting home. It was important that it did. He didn't want to be constantly stressed and on alert and exhausting all his connections and resources in the school and outside of it just to keep Marek there.

"It seems like the punishment is working," smiled Tichy. "All right, only three more on each foot," he declared sadistically. "I'm going to untie you now, and you will present your feet to me for punishment, without hiding, avoiding, or running. And as soon as that's done and over with, you had better be the best boy you can possibly be for me," he demanded.

Marek burst into fresh tears at the news that he had six more to go. There wasn't a spot on either foot that hadn't already been worked over twice, so he knew that any additional strokes would burn like fire.

Tichy knelt and quickly untied the boy's toes, then his legs, before rising to his feet once again.

"Right foot, present!" he said as he raised the cane high overhead.

"Right foot!" he demanded again as the boy was slow to comply. "Stretch the leg all the way, nice and straight, toes back, heel up, nice and taut, yesssss," he said in approval before he rewarded the boy's perfectly vulnerable position with a sharp, hard THWICK!!! across the mottled mess that was the bottom of his right foot.

"Left foot!" Tichy demanded. "Only three left," he encouraged the weeping youngster. "Come on, boy! You really don't want me to tie you up now and start over, do you?" he said, his warning not at all subtle.

THWICK!!!

"Two more on the right foot. Stretch, push up, toes back!"

Marek did not want two more strokes on each foot. He didn't want any more, but with a whimper, and renewed crying from both the present and the anticipated pain, he bent his foot back at the ankle and presented the bottom of his right foot for the man to hurt once again.

THWICK!!!

"Now the left foot. Be good! Foot up! Stretch!" THWICK!!!

"Right foot!" THWICK!!!

"Left foot!" THWICK!!!

Tichy applied the strokes as the sobbing boy presented his feet one at a time for more torment. Finally, after six additional slicing, burning blows with the cane, Tichy deemed the boy's punishment to be at an end. This part of his punishment, anyway. He wasn't anywhere near done with the Hurta kid, not by a long shot.

With each blow of the cane, Marek squealed in pain and misery. By the end of it he was a snotty-nosed, red-faced, sobbing boy, whimpering at the burning pain in his runaway feet.

"Stop your crying, wimp," barked Tichy at the distraught boy. "That was a light foot caning, just so you know," barked Tichy. They can be much more severe in case you ever get the stupid idea to run away from me again."

Marek was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. It wasn't just how much it hurt – and it hurt a lot – it was the fear that came with knowing that he still was in terrible trouble for what he had done and there was nothing and nobody to stop Tichy from keeping him in agony for the entire two weeks of the break. Nobody else would even see Marek or the results of what Tichy did to him unless Tichy wanted the boy to be seen. The man had warned him about running away, and he had done it anyway. Now he desperately wanted to take it back. He wanted the man to know that.

"I won't!" he sobbed. "I won't run away, Mr. Tichy!" And he meant it. Oh, how he meant it.

"You had better fucking not," huffed the man. "But don't think I'm done punishing you. I'm just done for right now and done with your feet unless you give me another reason to hurt them," he added. Then he shed what little clothes he still had on, stretched, sighed, and climbed onto the bed to lie down face-first, spreading his arms and legs, relaxing.

"Tongue in ass," he commanded. "Do it now. Keep at it. Make a good job of it," he demanded simply. "And just before you start, I want you to announce, in your own words, what you're about to do. Nice and loud and clear," demanded Tichy before he rested his face on a pillow with the knowledge that he had given Marek plenty of instructions to deal with right now.

Marek couldn't stop sobbing and shaking. They were bad shakes, too – full full-body quakes that trembled his slight frame. He couldn't stop crying, either. This was bad. This was misery. At least with his punishment sessions, there was an end. Even if they went on for a long time, they always ended. Tichy always let him go back to his dorm at the end of them. But now Tichy didn't have to let him go anywhere. Marek had to stay with the man in his apartment full time for the next two weeks. It seemed unendurable. How would he survive it? How would he possibly withstand the trauma and the pain?

The man stretched out and Marek tried to get to his feet to climb onto the bed. But as soon as his swollen, welted feet pressed down to the floor, it felt like he was stepping on glass, and he fell back on his butt with an anguished squeal.

Crying, sobbing, he fought his way to his knees and managed to pull himself onto the bed. His feet were useless. They burned and throbbed.

"I'm sorry Mr. Tichy," he sobbed, apologizing for the delay. "I'm going to eat your ass out, sir," he gasped in a miserable voice as he knee-walked into position.

"Yes, you will," chuckled Tichy. "Go on then." He had hoped that Marek would say more, but at least the boy was explicit. Later he could train the boy to speak in a way that was more arousing, including all the disgusting and humiliating details, but he was in no hurry just now. He had two weeks to train and mold the boy. It was such a beautiful and amazing thing. He could do anything he wanted to Marek, and, for long stretches of time, like the next half hour or so, he didn't really have to do anything at all, and it still was going to feel good and have an educational effect on the boy. Fun, fun, fun!

Tichy's ass was, of course, sweaty, and unwashed from the day's activities. The hole itself a bit hairy with sparse but coarse, thick hairs. His anus relaxed as he sprawled spread-eagled on the bed, just lazily, motionlessly waiting to be obeyed, served, and pleasured. A young tongue in his ass, even though he wouldn't admit it out loud to anyone, was a very nice sensation. It was becoming a personal favorite.

Marek continued to shake and sob as he tried to find the best way to position himself to perform the act that Tichy had instructed. There was no question that he would do it. He had been punished before for refusing, but that was all ancient history now. He had no such reservations anymore. His only goal, his only motivation, was to avoid the man's wrath and the punishments and pain that brought. Tichy seemed all-powerful to Marek. Unopposable. There was only compliance.

Finally, he simply crouched down on his tummy between the man's spread legs and slid himself forward until his face was at the man's ass. With tentative and shaking fingers, he pulled the man's cheeks apart, lowered his teary-eyed face, and began to lick Tichy's cleft and hole. He didn't delay long before he began pointing his tongue and pressing it as far inside the man's rectum as he could.

Tichy already was erect, but as the boy's tongue contacted his puckered ring, rendering it a bit ticklish at first, his cock twitched. Fuck. For the next two weeks, he could have this any time he wanted it. There was no need to hurry, no need to worry about Marek's eating or sleeping habits, his grades, or whether he was too bruised, sore, or exhausted for his classes. None of those things mattered now. This was all that mattered, and Tichy was as sure as the sun rising in the morning that Marek could be made to give it to him as often as he wanted without so much as a peep of complaint.

Marek's feet were throbbing with pain as he pressed his face between Tichy's ass cheeks and pleasured the man with his tongue. His feet almost seemed to be glowing, as if they were on fire. He wasn't sure that he would ever be able to walk on them again. Tichy had been right that he would regret running away. But for now, he concentrated on the task that he had been given. It was horrible, of course, but at least Tichy wasn't beating him or hurting him. He couldn't stop shaking from the beating he had already received, but it was the fear of more beatings and more punishments that had the boy anxious, shaky, and upset.

The boy performed his assigned task to the best of his ability. His tongue was tiring, but he kept as it. He did not want to anger Tichy, or even disappoint the man. In fact, he wanted to tell him again how sorry he was, and he tried to do so with his tongue, even as he kept the man's butt cheeks wet with his tears.

Tichy simply relaxed into it. He didn't say anything more or do anything else, betting on the fact that Marek was simply too scared by now to slack off or stop without being told. After about ten minutes, however, the boy' performance seemed to wane, so Tichy casually and calmly asked him a rhetorical question.

"Do you think you will get that tongue go any deeper and wriggle some more, and just generally be better at this, if I give you ten with the cane on the ass to remind you what happens when you don't do your best at all times?" The man's voice sounded calm and almost conversational as he spoke.

When Tichy spoke, Marek's tongue momentarily stopped as he listened to the words. The man's voice was soft and low, almost friendly in tone, but his words were chilling. The cane? Oh god no. Please not the cane. Marek wasn't sure whether to speak, or simply reapply himself to the task and rededicate himself to the performance of it. He opted for the latter and began licking with renewed enthusiasm before pressing his tongue just as deep and as far into Tichy's rectum as he could manage, holding it there and wiggling it vigorously for as long as he could.

And then he did it again, and again, deep, and long – three long, probing, wiggling insertions that exhausted his tongue and left him breathless and gasping for air. Throughout it all, Marek still was sobbing from what had happened to his feet. He simply could not stop crying.

Now, that was better, and Tichy let Marek know with a satisfied grunt and a sort of hum that that was the case. The only problem was that by the third such insertion, Tichy's ring clamped tight around Marek's tongue and as good as pushed it out. He now urgently needed to go, and as much as he was tempted to give the kid a very unwelcome surprise, he needed the boy not to be sick, especially right after the only decent meal he had had all day.

Marek was trying. With every bone and muscle in his body, he was trying. But one of those muscles – the most important one, at least for this task – was tiring rapidly. It was hard work for a boy's tongue to form into a spear, press past a man's tight sphincter, and then wiggle inside a rectum. Indeed, it was very hard work, and Marek's tongue wasn't accustomed to it at all. He was preparing to press in for a fourth time, but his tongue was objecting now, feeling achy and tired in Marek's mouth.

"I need to go," grunted Tichy as he propped himself up, moved forward, rolled over, and hurried to the toilet, grabbing Marek's arm to drag him along behind him.

Marek was startled when Tichy suddenly popped up from the bed. The boy reacted in fear, cowering as the man grabbed him and dragged him from the bed and began pulling him the short distance to the toilet. As his feet hit the ground they exploded in pain, driving the air from Marek's lungs in a squeal of pain and instantly taking him to his knees.

The man was in such a hurry to reach the bathroom that he did not realize that Marek was in distress until he noticed that the youngster had collapsed to the floor and was being pulled along, but that was of no moment to Tichy. He simply dragged the boy the rest of the way into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet. No sooner had big stinky lumps of shit started to splash into the toilet bowl than he grabbed Marek's neck and pushed the kid's face down toward his erection.

"Suck," demanded Tichy. "And do the best you can do without puking. If I'm not happy, I'm not wiping before we're carrying on with what you started," he added cruelly.

Marek was already on his knees sobbing as the man sat on the toilet. He immediately took the man's cock in his mouth and began to suck, smell or no smell. He bobbed Tichy's cock wet, then took his first plunge, hoping to please the man with his performance, trying to tell him how sorry he was with his effort and compliance. He barely noticed the stench of the man's bowel movement; it simply didn't make the list of his present concerns.

Tichy took a long, big, stinking, splashing, farting shit. If it was anyone else, even just one of the TBs, he probably would have felt at least a bit weird and self-conscious about the noise and smell, but this was Marek Hurta, the Glass King's grandson, the traitor's son, the ass-licker, the shit-eater, the confirmed wimp. Tichy really didn't have any qualms about doing anything around him. But damn, that soft little mouth felt good on his cock. He could tell that Marek really was trying. Tichy almost didn't want to interrupt this, but he also didn't want to sit there too long with his ass unwiped.

It didn't take long for the smell to get through to Marek. His face was right there, right over the bowl. With Tichy's cock in his mouth, he was forced to breathe in the awful, disgusting smell of the man's bowel movement as it happened only a foot or so away. Still, the boy had a job to do, and he tried his best to do it. Even as Tichy was pushing and voiding himself the man remained steadfastly erect, and Marek continued to alternate bobbing on his cock with deeper plunges. He took the man only to his no-gag limit. With the smells going on below him, there is no question that he would retch and vomit if Tichy made him take the entire length. Mercifully, the man seemed to be content with the semi-deep version instead of the full-on, gag-on-my-cock one. Marek counted his blessings, indeed.

"All right, back off," said Tichy. "That's good, solid effort. I guess that threat works?" he added with a smirk even as he reached for the grey, rough toilet paper – the only kind you could get in Communist Czechoslovakia, and then not even reliably – to wipe himself. He wiped several times and made reasonably sure not to leave any residue behind.

Marek removed his head and knelt up on the man's instruction, relieved to be even a couple of feet further away from the toilet bowl. He already felt sick to his stomach, but he stayed where he was as the man wiped himself. The man seemed not to care one bit that he was doing something so intensely personal in front of Marek. The boy might as well have been the man's dog – and in many respects, he was, but for the fact that Tichy probably wouldn't treat his dog the way he treated Marek.

Tichy stood up, flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and pointed back toward the bedroom. "You can crawl," he allowed after briefly considering forcing the boy to walk.

Marek did crawl, as his feet still felt like they were glowing and pulsing with heat. Now what, he wondered as the man's bowel movement ended and they headed back to the bedroom. He knew that two entire weeks of uncertainty, pain, and "now what" lay ahead, and Marek was a very unhappy boy about that.

Tichy followed the kid into the bedroom, clicked his fingers, pointed at the bed, and thought for a bit. There were no bad options now, not for him anyway. Should he go for more of the ass-licking now that Marek had been freshly reminded what kind of a hole he was licking? Should he finish the nice blowjob that the boy had just started? Or should he just go ahead and fuck that cute little ass with its twin purple eyes that Tichy had beaten into it with the stir stick? Tichy was torn, as that butt had looked very tempting as Marek crawled along. Choices, choices, choices. But then again, why should he choose when there were no longer any limits on what he could make Marek do, or any limits on doing them all?

Having finally decided, Tichy simply sprawled on the bed face down and spread his legs once again. It was back to square one for Marek. The other activities could wait for now. All in good time.

"You better show you're thankful that I shit in the toilet and not just as and when I needed to, and even wiped quite thoroughly for you," said the man in a malicious voice. "We both know I didn't have to do either one of those things and you'd just have kept at it, Marek. So go on, get back there. Nice and good. And deep. Don't piss me off."

Marek blanched as he saw as Tichy lie back down on the bed and spread his legs. Oh no. Please. But then the man spoke, confirming what he expected the boy to do. Marek had just seen what came out of the man's ass. He had smelled it. He had heard it. He had seen it, and virtually experienced it himself. He saw what the man had wiped off his ass. He had seen the toilet tissue. And he knew that it wasn't all off. It never was, no matter how many times you wiped and how much paper you used. At least when he had licked the Tichy's ass before, he hadn't known how long it had been since the man had taken his last shit, but now he knew exactly.

How could Tichy possibly be this cruel to him? He understood the beatings, the punishments, even the sex. But Tichy hated him beyond those things. He humiliated and taunted him, demeaned him, made him do terrible, awful, horrible things, and then taunted him more afterwards for doing them without complaint. But if he complained or refused, the man punished and tortured him. Marek felt like he was going slowly insane. He was going to end up like his mother, and Tichy was going to drive him there.

He knew Tichy could make him do it, and he didn't want to be beaten again, but he had to try. For the sake of his sanity and his worth as a boy, he had to try.

"Please, Mr. Tichy," he said in whimpering voice while still on his knees by the side of the bed. "I know you can make me do it, and I'll do it, okay? – you don't have to beat me – but please. I'm begging you … I'm begging you. I know you hate me, but please don't make me do this. I'm asking for your mercy."

From his prone position on the bed, Tichy rolled his eyes, before lifting his head and glaring down at the boy with a look that could freeze the flames in a bonfire.

"Didn't I literally just point out that I've been merciful?" huffed the man. "You didn't have to eat shit or even clean my ass of it. Be thankful and stop fussing. Not a word more, or the next time I'm taking a dump, it'll be a far more memorable experience for you," he warned darkly.

"Now lick! Tongue! You know I can make you and you have your instructions, so cut this nonsense and do as you are told before I decide that what I want is a rimming from a boy with a caned ass, and all you'll have left to do is take another caning and then still do what I told you to do," he added gruffly.

"Actually … no!" said Tichy as he changed his mind suddenly. "You'll say, out loud what you're about to do, emphasizing the reason why you just begged for mercy, and then you'll clamp that mouth over my asshole and lick like there's no tomorrow," demanded the man. That was a double whammy for poor Marek: Tichy was humiliating the boy for speaking out and starting a bit on his dirty-talking training, too.

Marek burst into tears as his gambit failed and he realized that he had succeeded only in making Tichy angry at him once again. Sobbing, his cheeks blushing pink with embarrassment, shame, and hopelessness, he climbed onto the bed to do what the man wanted done.

Marek felt cold and shaky as he crawled into position once again. How could he survive two weeks like this? Did he even want to? The answer was pretty much no. He had no friends here, and the ones he did have were hundreds of kilometers away in Vacenovice. They were so distant that they may as well have been on the moon. He hadn't even heard from any of them since he came to the school. His mother was sick and unable to help him, and everyone else appeared to have forgotten all about him; now even his aunt and uncle had forsaken him. He knew he would get no help here in Brod, where absolutely everyone hated him, including most importantly, Stanislav Tichy.

Still sobbing, he maneuvered himself between Tichy's legs. He closed his eyes, trying to fight back the tears, trying to channel his mother, his Aunt Martina, Tomáš, Bořek, anyone who could help him. He wanted to be soothed and held like an infant or a toddler. He felt like he couldn't hold onto his sanity much longer. His world seemed to be closing in on him. He felt very close to losing it.

He already was breathing with little hitched, hyperventilated breaths as he prepared to say what the man had told him he had to say.

"I'm go- (gasp) going to lick your (gasp) ass out," he stammered and sobbed. "And I (gasp) don't want to (gasp) because- bec- (gasp) because you just took a- a- (gasp) shit," he managed to say. Somehow, saying that last word made what he was about to do sound and seem even worse. That must have been Tichy's goal in making him say it.

"There's my good little wimp," chuckled Tichy. "Go on, then, Marek. You said it, now do it. And the next time I make you talk you'll include exactly that sort of detail. Use words like nasty, smelly – that kind. And then, without waiting for another prompt, you'll dive right in and do it – unless you want me to pick up the cane again after all," smirked the man. "Hmmmm?" he hummed like an aggravated beehive.

It was a challenging, get-the-hell-going sort of hum. Tichy was all out of patience for the weeping boy. There was only one way out of this, and Marek had better move quickly unless he wanted to get some stripes on his bottom to match the ones already etched into the soles of his feet. Start licking that ass, runaway boy!

"Yes, M- Mr. Tichy," Marek managed to gasp through his sobs. His face was a rictus of unhappiness, but as he had said all along, he would do it if Tichy made him do it, and the man was now making him. Marek was terrified of the disciplinarian's threats. Tichy already had made him do even worse things with his mouth, and to make him do this once before he had caned Marek's bottom to the point where he could barely walk. The tone in Tichy's voice told him that he already was on his last chance and that time was running out.

Quickly now, still weeping and breathing jerkily with hyperventilated gasps, Marek lay down between the man's thighs, pried his ass cheeks apart with a little whimper, and brought his mouth to the man's cleft once again. Tichy's ass was pungent and hairy, and although it was optically clean, Marek was right of course: There was going to be a nasty taste involved. The act of shit passing though that selfsame hole, as Marek's unhappy memory kept reminding him, was far, far too recent to avoid any of that.

To Tichy, this was perfect. This was it. He had a humiliated, broken, 12-year-old boy acknowledging out loud that Tichy had just taken a shit and that he was about to lick that very same hole – and – very, very unhappily, too, which was perfectly fine with Tichy, of course. For once, Tichy could have his cake and eat it, too. He could have this, and then a blowjob, and then if he didn't cum fast enough or wanted more afterwards, he could simply ram his cock straight up Marek's tight little ass and get off that way. Tadaaa! No limits. No need to be cautious or careful – none of that shit. This was just a strong, grown, determined man and a small, defenseless, teary-eyed boy who was either going to obey on his own or be made to. Tichy hummed into the pillow. It was a more satisfied hum now as he relaxed more deeply.

Marek's mind numbed as he re-licked Tichy's ass. The boy was despondent. Nothing he tried with Tichy worked. Defying him didn't work. Opposing him didn't work. Crying didn't work. Running away didn't work. The only thing that had ever worked with Tichy was begging, and even that wasn't working anymore. Tomáš had been right once again: Compliance was the only option. The problem was, did even Tomáš know what Tichy was doing to him and making him do? Did he understand? Did he know how much Tichy hated him? Would his advice have been the same if he knew that Tichy wasn't just mad at him for running away from the internat, but also seething with hatred for him for something he had never even done? Would the older boy's advice have been the same if he had known that?

But nobody knew. Tichy had made Marek an outcast so he could isolate him from everyone and have his way with him, and it had worked. Nobody knew what the man did to him. Nobody knew what Tichy made him do. Nobody knew the depths of the man's hatred for him. Nobody knew that Tichy blamed Marek's grandfather for everything bad that had ever happened in his and his parents' lives. Nobody knew any of that and everyone thought that Marek was the problem. Most of all, nobody cared. Not one person at the school gave a shit what happened to him or what Tichy did to him.

It was a nightmare, and Marek could not find a solution to it. He had tried everything. Through no fault of his own, the boy had made an enemy out of the worst possible person at the school. Here at the internat, Tichy was all-powerful. The man could do anything he wanted to Marek, and what was a boy of 12 to do about it? The answer was … nothing. At least in the short term, there was nothing Marek could do except obey and suffer, suffer, and obey. Tichy had him trapped.

Marek licked and tongued the man's asshole until he thought his tongue would detach and fall out of his mouth. He did a decent job of it, too, as he was scared about what would happen if he didn't. If his tongue went slack on him and Tichy wanted more, Marek knew that he would be in trouble. He prayed for it to be over soon as he licked and sucked. He prayed that Tichy did not want an extended session this time around.

At least that prayer seemed to have been heard, as Tichy mostly wanted this follow up out of a sadistic desire to humiliate the boy. His ass was sensitive and a little itchy, and the saliva on Marek's tongue was not making that any better. He shuddered at the sensation of Marek's tongue wiggling in his ass, mostly putting up with it for the sake of making Marek do it, then clenched his cheeks, moved forward, turned, and sat up again on the bed. He twisted around until he was mostly seated, then leaned against the headboard while tucking a pillow behind his back.

"Good boy," he told his pet. "You were just in time with the obedience. I wasn't going to cut you anymore slack. Now suck," he commanded the unhappy boy.

Marek sobbed as Tichy pulled his ass away and sat up, first with fear that the man was angry, then with relief that he could stop before his tongue gave out. The boy was left momentarily lying on the bed, a bit bewildered as to what the man wanted next. He knelt up himself, not speaking, sniffling, and apprehensively awaiting his next instruction. An expression of profound unhappiness seemed to be permanently etched on his young face.

"Actually, no," said Tichy. "Go pour me the rest of that wine from the kitchen counter in a glass, bring it to me to drink, and then suck. Do all of that in silence. I want a glass of wine in my hand, a mouth around my cock, and I don't want to hear a sound," instructed Tichy.

The boy had already started to move forward on his knees to begin sucking when Tichy told him to go for the wine. He would do anything to be away from the man, even for a moment, so he nodded and made for the side of the bed.

Trying to step down from the bed, he immediately collapsed to the floor with a squeal as his right foot screamed with pain. It was as if every nerve in his entire foot had been lit on fire. The pain was absolutely excruciating and left him shuddering and wincing.

"Mr. Tichy, can I please crawl?" he asked in shivery voice from the floor. Marek knew he already was on borrowed time and shouldn't be speaking at all. He also knew that he was taxing the man's patience, but there was no possible way he could walk.

"Crawl? How are you…" Tichy said as his voice trailed off. He frowned. He could allow the boy to crawl there and knee-walk back, telling him not to spill the wine. It was a reasonable request given the sorry state of the boy's feet. But then again, he had told the kid previously what would happen if he tried to run, and he had just told him to keep his fucking mouth shut and do as he was told. Marek was being disobedient again.

"No," Tichy snapped. "Get the fuck up and walk! It's not my fault you earned yourself a foot caning, and therefore not my problem. You will walk into the kitchen, pour the wine, bring it back, and you won't spill a single fucking drop. And you're getting six swats on the ass with something the next time I can be bothered because I specifically said to bring the fucking wine, suck me off, and don't make a fucking sound, and here you are yapping away!" Tichy snapped angrily with pure sadism dripping from his words.

"Now!" Tichy yelled at the cringing, cowering boy.

Marek deflated and shrunk as the man raised his voice to him. He wanted to be anywhere else. He wanted to be anyone else. He felt like he had been sentenced to eternity in hell and this was his first day. With a whimper of abject misery, he returned to his knees and used the bed to pull himself up. With a look of worry on his face, he put his right foot gently down once again, then pulled himself up the rest of the way using the bed for support. Gasping in fear, he put his left foot down and let go of the bed, only to collapse in a heap on the floor. He had almost blacked out from the pain. It was like standing on shards of glass.

The 12-year-old had a look of terror in his eyes as he spun quickly back to his knees. This was not a matter of obedience and compliance now; it was a matter of impossibility. He could not stand up. He simply could not stand up. His reddened eyes were now wild with fear. Tichy had warned him not to speak and had warned him to get up and get the wine, but his feet simply would not allow it to happen.

But it had to happen. Marek knew that Tichy would cane him bloody if he didn't find a way to obey. Shaking, gasping, he pulled himself up quickly, first to his knees, then gently placed his right foot underneath him. Pulling up on the bed, he awkwardly maneuvered his left foot underneath him, then attempted to stand free.

He almost blacked out again. He stood for a moment before starting to topple, then stumbled one excruciating step, his right foot landing on the floor in a jolt of absolute agony before he lost his balance entirely. Marek squealed and collapsed again like he had been shot. He simply could not stand. His expression revealed his horror at the retribution that was sure to come.

"Oh, what a fucking pussy you are!" groaned Tichy. "I swear I'll take the skin off your soles with a potato peeler if you so much as take a step out of my sight when you're not supposed to. Now get on your knees and get that wine and be really fucking careful not to spill it. I don't have another bottle of the same stuff," warned Tichy.

"I'm not going to beat you if you can't walk," the man allowed, "but you're going to pay for this, Marek. After your little stunt, I'm not cutting you any slack. I don't know what possessed you to make a run for it after I told you what would happen if you tried. I warned you, Marek. I specifically warned you what was going to happen if you tried something stupid, and you did it anyway. We've already established that you're a total wimp when it comes to pain, haven't we? Maybe you should have remembered that before you jumped in that fucking truck!" he added in a steely, hard voice.

"Now go!" Tichy commanded. "However you do it, just fucking do what I told you to do! Bring me my glass of wine, and not another word!" he bellowed at the naked, terrified boy.

Marek was back on his knees listening to the man, his head nodding with relief, nodding, just nodding, agreeing with everything the man said, everything, all of it. The man was being merciful at a time when Marek needed his mercy more than ever. Even if Tichy beat him, Marek's feet would not have allowed him to stand. He could beat him and beat him, and Marek would have tried, but he still wouldn't have been able to stand or walk. The 12-year-old was grateful for the man's mercy. He was beyond grateful. He was awash in feelings of gratefulness.

"Thank you, Mr. Tichy, thank you," he gasped in relief – as if it hadn't been Tichy who had made it so he couldn't walk in the first place. But in the boy's confused and troubled mind, it really wasn't Tichy's fault, it was his own fault. Tichy had gaslighted him into believing that what had been done to him was his fault for running away when the man had warned him not to. And even if that wasn't his fault, it was his fault for being born a Hurta. Oh, how he hated his name. Before any of this, Marek had always liked his surname – only five letters, different, and distinctive. Now he hated it. He hated his name and the men who had passed it down to him. He wished he had never been born, and if he had to be born anyway, he wished it were not with the surname Hurta.

Quickly, he crawled away, his knees pounding the floor and taking a pounding themselves. No matter. He would have crawled all the way to Romania on gravel if that's what Tichy told him to do. He was in the kitchen in no time, but the wine was on the counter, and he couldn't stand to get it. Thinking fast, he solved the problem by pulling a chair over and kneeling up on it. He poured the wine, carefully lowered himself off the chair to the floor, and crawled back to the bedroom, all the while being careful not to spill.

He crawled to the side of the bed and handed the wine up to Tichy.

"Thank you, sir," he said again, with genuine contriteness and appreciation for the man's indulgence.

"Gratitude accepted," replied Tichy with a smirk. "Just be a good boy and remember – if ever we come head-to-head again – how much more I can hurt you, Marek. It's so much more than what you can cope with and keep functioning normally. Alright? Deal?" demanded the man, almost chuckling. He took a sip of his wine. It was nice stuff.

Marek didn't care that the man was smirking and chuckling. He had been terrified of what might happen to him if he couldn't stand, but Tichy had been merciful instead. He had not brought out the cane or tortured the boy. He had been merciful when Marek most needed mercy because he had been absolutely, utterly unable to comply with Tichy's order to stand and walk. Marek truly was grateful. Relieved, and grateful.

"Yes, sir … yes … deal," he replied, nodding vigorously. He would have agreed to anything just then. "Deal," he repeated, nodding again to make it final.

Tichy didn't need to say anything else. He looked down at his cock and cocked an eyebrow, but that was all he did. Just like that, he knew he wasn't going to be finishing in Marek's ass, at least not the first time he came. He was going to relax, sip his wine, and let Marek get him off with his mouth and tongue. The boy knew now that he had to perform, and perform well, and they both knew that he was all out of slack – that tiny bit of mercy he had just been shown had already stretched Tichy's capacity for being tolerant at this point. Now there would be a long stretch of time with Tichy's cock feeling good inside the boy's mouth and throat, and that was going to be it. Otherwise, hell on earth was going to be unleashed on the butt of an already very, very unhappy young boy.

Marek climbed onto the bed and quickly came to the man on his knees. He had Tichy's cock in his mouth before he was even fully in position to suck, and he started bobbing right away. He was going to suck the man to the best of his ability, and give him "eyes," too.

He looked up at Tichy as he took his first plunge down the man's pole. It was the first of many. He was even going to try to go all the way, on his own, without being told to, although he was more than a bit concerned about the lack of a vomit bucket if it didn't go well. Marek was intent on sucking well. He'd done it enough times to know how the man liked it, and he knew how to do it that way. He wasn't concerned about gagging and throwing up other than to the extent it would make a mess.

"There's a good bourgeoise boyslut," said Tichy, and just as Marek went deep and worried about gagging, the man spoke again, seemingly in direct response to his concerns. "Just don't fucking puke, okay? Do the best you can do without making a mess. You must keep your supper in, and you must not make a mess of the bed," he emphasized as he gazed down at the boy. He liked to look into those handsome eyes, that not-really, but nonetheless slutty-seeming eye contact over the rim of his wine glass. The wine was strong, good, and warming. Tichy had never had any good wine in his life, and this barely mediocre Moravian red seemed like the shit to him. In addition to that, the blowjob felt quite nice.

Marek was not concerned about his food intake the way Tichy was, but the boy knew that he had lost weight with the stress of the past several weeks. He was not a growing boy but a shrinking one despite Tichy's requirement that he eat all his meals. Too many factors had conspired against him eating well, and repeated vomiting was only one of them. Stress and worry were the other major issues. They had diminished his desire to eat even as they kept him up at night and sapped his energy during the day.

The man wiggled his toes, stretched, and took a deeper gulp of his wine. He loved blowjobs. The sensation, the effortlessness on his part, the power dynamic in it – he loved it all, and this was an exceptional blowjob. His mind started to wander. He had better than two weeks alone with Marek. Could he get two blowjobs per day on average? That would be about 30 blowjobs right there. Could he push it to 35 or 40, and with cock clean ups to boot? He thought that he could, and perhaps even more if he had the stamina. After all, Marek was in no position to say no. The boy could be made to suck until his tongue fell out if that is what Tichy wanted him to do – and maybe he did. He hadn't decided. Oh, this really was going to be the best Christmas ever!

The man didn't want him to go all the way, and Marek felt relieved. He could take most of Tichy's cock without even the risk of gagging, and so he did. He was trying hard to please the man who now essentially owned him. Usually, he did bob-bob-bob-bob-plunge, just into the entrance to his throat. But he was so grateful that he made this his best blowjob ever — bob-bob-plunge and hold, with lots of swirling tongue everywhere, over the man's glans, around the world, all of it. He squeezed with his lips, too, adding pressure and suction to the massage of his spasming throat.

It was, truly – even if the boy didn't quite know it – a heck of a good blowjob. It felt good to Tichy, and that made him feel whimsical and contemplative. What was the point of women, anyway? They were useless other than for breeding, and how stupid those men were who were willing to partake in the breeding part. All that toil, hard work, sweat, blood, tears, worry, effort, exhaustion, from diaper changes all the way through to explosions of teenage moods and perhaps beyond. And how often did those men get laid? How often did they get to relax and go as good as limp all over except for that one appendage that really mattered? How often did they receive an amazing, heavenly blowjob like this? The answer was never. Fucking never.

Tichy thought he had figured out life. With his secure and powerful little position at the internat, he felt like he had cheated his way straight into a victorious, glorious, best-possible version of existence that a man like him could ever want to have. He had a constant stream of cute boy butts to fuck, and cute, young lips wrapped around his cock year after year after year. It was all mostly effortless on his part, and as time went on, he learned that it was not even as risky as he had initially feared. And now he had this with the Hurta boy. This was at a whole new level. This appealed to his sex drive and his sadism in equal parts. This was perfection. He wanted to thank the Glass King for Marek. The way he felt right now, he gladly would have forgiven the old fart for everything, shaken his hand, and praised him to the heavens for his grandson.

It may have been a bit of a waste but Tichy gulped the wine down thirstily just so he could discard the glass and tilt his head back with pure enjoyment. He breathed out thoroughly – in, out, in, out – and went as limp as a ragdoll. There was nothing in the whole universe that he cared about more just then than his hard-as-a-rock cock and the amazing sensations the boy was giving it with his mouth.

Marek gave the very best effort he could. He didn't let himself tire, not even his tongue, and he kept at it even as his jaw, neck, and back started to hurt. He used his mouth, lips, throat, and tongue as if in a symphony together to please the man. He knew it was a good blowjob even if he had no scale to judge it by. It was the best he had given and very nearly the best he could do. Having never experienced a blowjob himself, Marek could only imagine how good it would feel to have a set of wet, sucking lips and a smooth mouth to engulf his member. He could see why Tichy liked the sex part, even if he probably used it to humiliate and punish Marek more than anything. Although Tichy did things that would make a kid a poof, Marek still had a lot of trouble seeing Tichy as actually being a poof himself. He seemed way too big, strong, powerful, and manly to be one of those.

Tichy managed to keep still, almost as if playing dead, right up until his body forced him to tense up, a breath catching in his throat before he simply exploded and sent a massive quantity of cum into Marek's mouth and throat – squirt, after squirt, after squirt. It was one of his biggest, most abundant, thickest, strongest, and most pungent loads yet. Tichy probably could have died happy just then, but of course, that would be a terrible waste given that he had the Hurta kid at his disposal for the next two weeks. Instead of dying, he just gasped, panted, and gaped wide-eyed as he fed the boy his load. Now this was something, and it was still day zero out of 15, or day one out of – he didn't even check the calendar – 16? The thought brought a smile to his sadistic face.

When the man finally came, Marek wasn't sure if he was supposed to swallow or show, but the sheer amount of fluid in his mouth answered that question for him. He swallowed because he had to, and when he started to swallow it was like drinking from a tap. It took several reasonable gulps to get most of the man's cum into his stomach, and more of the stuff continued to ooze and pulse into the boy's mouth for a bit thereafter. Afterwards, Marek remained perfectly still, not moving at all, with Tichy's cock still in his mouth as he tried not to overstimulate the man. Only when he was sure that Tichy was done with the throes of his orgasm did Marek begin a light, gentle, tongue-and-lips cleanup of the man's softening penis.

When he was done, Marek pulled off, still looking at the man, wondering if he would want a biathlon. Despite his sore body Marek would gladly have given him one. He was still feeling quite grateful that Tichy had not beaten him when he couldn't stand up on his battered feet.

It took Tichy a moment before he even could speak again, and another one before he decided that he wanted to.

"Damn, that was good! That was … " he took a breath, "… excellent. I have no idea if you can keep this up and do it regularly, but if you put this much effort into pleasing me and not pissing me off, I might yet change my mind about just how thoroughly you need to be punished for running away. Maybe – maybe – there could be some days I'll just cut you some slack and not hurt you too much," suggested the man. "That is, if you're happy to spend time doing this instead and you promise not to slack off," he said as he smiled indulgently.

Marek was glad to hear the words of praise, and for a moment, he basked in them as if he had done something right and good and his effort and performance were being noted and acknowledged by an influential adult. Tichy seemed very pleased with his performance. As in very pleased. The words of praise meant even more coming from Tichy, because although he hated the man, the boy also worshipped him like a god. It was more of a fear-based worship and a pain-based one, as well, but the man was big, strong, confident, forceful, manly, connected, tough, important, and domineering. Those were all things that the broken, insecure, and self-conscious young boy was not, and Marek admired him for having those traits.

It took only a few moments, however, before it dawned on the boy exactly what he was being praised for. The man was happy only because Marek had given him a good blowjob, but that wasn't exactly a skill that was going to translate into a better life for the boy. It wasn't even something that would garner him the appreciation and respect of his classmates; in fact, if they ever found out about it, which Marek prayed they wouldn't, it would be quite the opposite. Marek somehow had managed to become quite good at something that was universally despised by all his fellow students and had to remain hidden if he wanted to stay alive.

But if sucking Tichy to the very best of his ability would reduce and mitigate the punishments the man had planned for him, Marek knew that he was going to be doing a lot of quality sucking over the next several days and weeks. He wasn't good with pain. He didn't like it, and the last several weeks with Tichy had made him like it even less. At core, Marek knew that he was still a wimp who had trouble taking a slippering. Just like the very first time in Tichy's office, if given the option between doing the wimpy thing and being hurt, Marek would opt for the wimpy thing every time. That was especially the case now that Tichy just hurt him and then made him do the wimpy thing, anyway. There was no winning with the man. There was only losing and losing more.

Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, Tichy went to the kitchen and lit up. It wasn't one of the posh Gauloises, just a good old familiar Startka. He needed some grounding after the mind-blowing, cock-hardening experience of caning a bawling 12-year-old into hysterics and then forcing the anguished, sobbing boy to rim and suck him off. He poured himself a shot of vodka, too, which was more like six shots in one of the little jars he used for drinking. It was roughly three shots by a Czechoslovak's pub's standards, or what would be called three "doubles" in a western bar. This was, after all, the hard-drinking eastern side of the Iron Curtain, and for at least the next week or so, it was the hard-drinking seventies, too.

Marek was worried when Tichy left the room. He hadn't been given any specific commands, but he knew that he probably shouldn't remain on the bed like he was about to take a nap. Not wanting to risk further punishment and needing to see what the man was doing, he slid from the bed and crawled his way to the entrance to the kitchen.

Tichy gulped the best part of his vodka in one hard gulp and tilted his head, his lips narrowing in a tight line, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. Placing the glass down on the counter he fished in a drawer and after some rummaging, found a black-ink soft tip pen; not a ballpoint, but the sort that was used for architect's drawings and the like. He then picked up a roll of thin paper and unrolled a large sheet of it across the kitchen table, weighing it down with a few small items in the corners as he spread it out.

Marek remained where he was as Tichy smoked and drank. He didn't want to move or call attention to himself, and it wasn't like he could walk off anywhere on his swollen feet. As the man did his thing, Marek turned his head around and looked behind him to see the damage. The soles of his feet were discolored, raw, welted, and nasty. He could see bruising and even more discoloration beneath the surface of the skin. Who knew that feet were so sensitive? He supposed his ass would feel the same way after a caning if he tried to walk on it.

"Sit," Tichy he said to the naked boy as he pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. "Listen to what I tell you and write it down exactly as I say it in nice, legible letters. You're making a poster that we'll hang on the wall for the next two weeks for reference," he explained.

Marek made his way on his hand and knees to the chair and awkwardly pulled himself up under the watchful gaze of his tormentor. He still didn't trust his feet and made every effort not to have them touch the floor as he positioned himself on the chair. When he picked up the pen, Tichy began to dictate.

Put "'Wimp's Rules for Avoiding Excessive Pain this Christmas,' at the top," the man said. "Center it on two lines and capitalize the first letter of each word," he said as he repeated each word slowly for the boy.

With his head tilted in concentration, Marek began to write.

"Now write 'One' on the next line over on the left margin," said Tichy. "Use Arabic numerals, not letters, and put a close parenthesis after it." He waited until the boy had done so. "Now write 'I obey every command, right away, with enthusiasm.'"

Marek followed the man's instructions, writing the words as carefully as he could as Tichy dictated several additional rules for him to follow. Sometimes the words got smaller as they were squeezed into too small areas and even got cut-off and hyphenated onto the next line, but when he was finished, it was all there in a long, numbered list, and legible, too.

"Write a seven there and a close parenthesis but leave it blank," instructed Tichy. "It's just there to remind you that the list isn't necessarily finite or done."

When he was finished inscribing the number seven and a parenthesis, Marek put the pen down and Tichy took the paper and looked at it properly. He had monitored the boy as he wrote, correcting some of the spelling but Tichy felt a thrill at seeing the boy's rules set down in full as commanded by him. The boy had used his best penmanship, but he was 12, the marker was big, and the writing tablet was, too. Words came out in different sizes and sometimes crunched together, but overall, his writing was legible and passable.

Marek had blanched as he wrote the third entry. He had experienced all those things, and he knew that Tichy was making him write this entry because he often had tried to beg his way out of them. But he remained silent as he wrote, bent to his task, forming the letters slowly, as best as he could.

He had also looked uncomfortable as he wrote the sixth entry. He did tend to say that he knew Tichy hated him, and obviously the man didn't like that. But how could it even be debated? Tichy had ample reason to hate him and his ancestors. He had even been honest about it. He had been honest about bringing Marek to the school so he could punish him. And he had punished Marek, with a cruelty and a brutality that you didn't use on a kid you liked. You didn't even use it on a kid you didn't care about. No, Tichy had punished and hurt Marek with the kind of cruelty, brutality, and malice that you used against someone you hated and despised. So why did he care that Marek said it? It was strange.

"I won't say what it says here, Mr. Tichy," he said to the man, pointing at the sixth paragraph. "But can I ask why you wanted number six?" It was clear from the question that even if Tichy wouldn't let him say it, Marek knew the man hated him. Maybe there was even a little challenge in the question to get Tichy to explain himself.

"Short version?" asked Tichy rhetorically. "It gets old. Longer version? It's likely not as true, or not true in the way you feel it is, and most importantly a lot of the time it distracts you from the fact that you're being punished, and you deserve it, and that you're a wimp, etcetera," shrugged the man. That was all the explanation he was prepared to give the boy just now. "Don't say it again unless you want the cane."

Marek listened carefully as the man explained. When his brain wasn't completely shut down from pain, fear, or exhaustion, he tried to gather as much information as he could about his situation and about the man himself in the hope that it might make his path at the school a little easier. But he knew that it would never be easy unless or until he could get away from Tichy, and right now, he didn't have a plan for that at all.

Tichy used thumb tacks to pin the rules up on the wall in a place that could be clearly seen from the bed and from almost anywhere in the bedroom, but not from the main door or the hallway. He knew that it was a risk to leave written evidence lying around, but no one would be coming to visit them over the next two weeks. He kept the list in the bedroom just in case Vacha stopped by with a bottle over Christmas, attempting to be sociable – which was a risk only if the man could read. Tichy honestly wasn't sure that he could.

Marek watched as the man pinned up the rules and took a moment to re-read them. There were no punishments listed for violations, but Marek knew that there would be. Everything Tichy made him do came with a punishment for disobedience.

"Now, get back in the bedroom and climb up on the bed – three times per day, remember?" chuckled Tichy as he stroked his erection and reached for the usual ass-fucking cream. "If you want your hole prepared, you do it," added Tichy as he tossed the boy the jar. "It's time you learned. Get some cream on your fingers and work them in. One to start, then at least two. Keep re-applying the cream and working it deeper and turn and twist your fingers to start stretching your pucker," directed Tichy.

"And by the way," Tichy added, "I'm going right in – all the way in," he added matter-of-factly. "You have three minutes."

Marek caught the cream that Tichy tossed to him. He'd never been taught how to lube himself, but with only three minutes at his disposal, he moved quickly. Before the man had even finished speaking, Marek had crawled back to the bed and climbed up. He tried to put a little weight on his right foot, just to see, but it still hurt. Maybe it was a little better, but he knew he didn't want to try to walk on it. Opening the jar of cream, he used his fingers to put a lot on, around, and in his hole. Reaching, and grimacing at the sensation, the discomfort, and the revulsion at what he was doing, he tried to stretch his ring open. Was this what the poofs did? It was disgusting.

"No 'thank you,' no gratitude, and you make sour and disgusted faces, too?" Tichy observed. He didn't sound too angry this time, but his voice was one of warning. "You think you're too good for this? I won't let you be a snotty brat here, ending up with a fissure and taking yourself out of the game for days on end," said the man sternly.

"New instruction. Get the index and middle fingers of both your hands in, all four deep past the first knuckle, and pull that hole open for me until no two fingers are touching, not even a little bit," he commanded. "Stretch it open and make it gape," demanded Tichy.

"And you'll lick your fingers clean after, too, for being ungrateful and sorry for yourself when you don't have even a single stripe across your ass to complain about," added the man. It was same as always, really; Tichy was hard to please and easy to displease, and now Marek had to take on this new challenge of prepping his own ass for a fucking to a whole new level.

Marek was stunned at the man's words of warning. He hadn't been meaning to be oppositional at all. He had been feverishly trying to do exactly as the man asked. He wasn't aware that the man expected to be thanked. He wasn't aware that Tichy was reading his expressions as defiance or ingratitude. It wasn't that way at all. It was just that he had never done this before, and it was kind of gross. He supposed that he had been making faces, but not at Tichy. There had been no glares of anger directed at the man.

But Tichy was angry, or if he wasn't, yet, he would be soon. Marek scrambled to comply, hooking the fingers of his right hand into his hole, and then – painfully – joining them with first his index finger, and then the middle finger, of his left. It felt so weird. Then he pulled and grimaced again.

"I w-wasn't trying to … make faces," he gasped, as he tried very hard not to make yet another face. "I'm sorry," he said, as he pulled his own butt hole open and apart. He groaned and grimaced at the effort. "I wasn't being … ungrateful, Mr. Tichy," he gasped again, as he tried to perform the full-fingered spread that the man wanted. "I'm grateful," he added with another gasp.

Marek's voice sounded worried. It was one thing to be punished for something he had done; sometimes, he knew, he brought it on himself. But if Tichy remained annoyed at him for this, and if annoyance became anger, and anger led to yet another punishment, it would neither be good nor deserved.

"I'm sorry if … if I looked mad," he offered again. "Thank you for letting me put the stuff on."

"That's better," said Tichy. "And no, you didn't look angry, but you did look ungrateful and disgusted and like you didn't want to be prepping your hole – as if you didn't know the difference between being fucked when it's prepared and when it's not. But you do know. So yes, a 'thank you' for the cream, and for the time to put it on properly, is a much better way of dealing with the situation," said Tichy.

Marek was relieved when Tichy seemed to accept his apology. The man was so volatile. His temper could be volcanic. Marek already knew that he would be walking a tightrope for the next two weeks. It would be all he could do to avoid extra punishments from the man even when he was trying to obey. It would be even more difficult because he wasn't going to get any time away from Tichy nor would Tichy have any time away from him unless he chose to. Marek had once read a quote: "Fish and houseguests both tend to stink after three days." What would happen when Tichy got tired of babysitting him? What would happen when Tichy got tired of feeding him? What would happen when Tichy interpreted every frown or expression Marek made as a sign of disrespect? It was terribly worrisome to think about.

Tichy knocked back the rest of his vodka, took two more long, hard drags at his Startka and then stubbed it out and moved towards Marek.

"Get it wider," he commanded. "No two fingers touching. Not of the same hand, not one hand with another," he demanded, letting Marek huff and strain and struggle until he had pulled his hole into a roughly square shaped opening that was actually open enough to see the fleshy pinkness inside. He had initially intended to fuck the boy doggy style, but in his struggle to lube himself, Marek had rolled onto his back and lifted his knees up and apart, exactly like during the balls-whipping session. Tichy decided that he liked that position just fine.

Marek made more expressions and more sounds as he tugged his hole open with all his strength. He was grunting and pulling so hard that his fingers threatened to slide out the walls of his anus. It was all he could do to keep them there. If Tichy got angry at his expression now, Marek knew he was fucked, because he was not smiling or looking grateful.

Then it was time, and Tichy mounted him. "Now get your fingers in your mouth, one by one," he commanded casually as he moved on top of Marek. As the boy complied, Tichy rubbed his mostly erect, lubricated cock over the kid's hole, which remained gaped open a little bit – not even quite enough to pass a pencil through, but still a bit.

Marek did as he was told with his fingers, licking them off one at a time. He didn't even stop to think about where they had been. The taste of lube and ass was familiar to him now, just another perversity that had become commonplace in his new life as Tichy's sex slave.

The man began to work the boy's gaping, pencil-sized hole with his glans, stretching it this way and that, poking at it with steady, circular pressure, and then – fully erect by that point – he adjusted the angle and slipped inside Marek in what was his smoothest, easiest entrance into the boy so far.

Marek tensed as Tichy pressed in but found that it barely hurt. He was well-lubed, and he had done this before. Tichy still could make it hurt with the intensity of his thrusts, but the abraded stretching of his anal ring seemed to be mostly in the past, now. Marek was grateful for that, but it was just another unwanted thing he had become accustomed to.

Slowly, Tichy filled Marek with most of his length and then pulled back, lowered his hips, moved back, and grabbed Marek's legs to steer them so that the boy's heels ended up resting on his shoulders. Then, working carefully and gently, he jabbed forward with his cock. He could immediately see that he hit his target right on the bullseye. Not only had he jammed against Marek's prostate, but he did it about as directly, and under about as intense an angle, as was humanly possible.

The electric twitch that this stirred up would have been obvious even if Marek's young prick hadn't shot to attention, erecting almost instantly and fully. Tichy smiled. He pulled back – not quite out but to a point where he could almost slip out – and then jabbed again. It was the same angle and force that he had used before, in pursuit of that insanely intense sensation once again. Now that he had the mechanics all figured out and full control over the angle and everything, he could do it without fail, again and again, and he did so. He did it again and then some more, carefully watching Marek's face as he went.

To Marek's surprise, it wasn't unsavory at all. Tichy was hitting that spot inside him that felt good. It was somewhere down in his stomach, or maybe his intestines, or the inside of his belly button, but … damn. It felt good. Sexily good. It made Marek hard, almost as if he was going to town on himself in one of the bathroom stalls. But he hadn't even touched his dick. Tichy's cock was touching the root of it, the inside part, like the part of an iceberg you couldn't see. Maybe his dick extended to his back, with most of it being inside. Probably like a muscle or something. It tingled when Tichy's cock hit the inside part.

Whatever it was, it felt good, and Marek found himself anticipating the contact with that spot with every thrust Tichy took. He found himself hoping that the man would not cum too soon – and then he realized what he had just hoped for. Was he becoming a poof? Was Tichy breaking him, turning him into a homosexual against his will? Was he that big of a wimp? He feared that he was. The pleasure was undeniable. Marek's hard cock didn't lie. Tichy could see it and they both knew that it hadn't been touched. It hadn't fucking been touched, except on the inside part by Tichy's cock, and that had made it rock hard. If that didn't make a boy a poof, Marek wasn't sure what would. Maybe Tichy hadn't needed to fake all those stupid photos, after all. Not if Marek was becoming a fucking poof all on his own.

Tichy saw the boy's reaction and knew what it was. Marek's eyes fluttered and Tichy saw the confusion there, the pang of shame and the shock visible in them. The man smiled but did not tease the boy or comment on what he had seen. He wasn't trying to punish or humiliate Marek this time. Indeed, he was working hard for the boy's pleasure. He could have simply plunged deeper and harder into the boy and could have been going at it from a much easier and more natural angle for him, with more downward thrusting. To do it this way he had to work his body and hips so that the tip of his cock was thrusting upwards, towards Marek's prostate and bladder, and that took extra effort.

But Tichy poked, poked, and poked again and again against that same exact spot, almost like a hammer beating down a nail. He loved seeing Marek's full, iron-hard stiffy, and then, just like that, a little fluid leaked out of the tip of it. It was just some precum – he wasn't quite "milking" the boy yet – but he could see it and he knew Marek could feel it, and it meant that the boy was very aroused from the sensation. Marek was very near orgasmic, or sort-of-close-to orgasmic, so Tichy kept at it at a good pace, using steady force and the same angle and direction to the very best of his ability.

Marek was starting to breathe more heavily even though Tichy was doing all the work. There was no escaping Tichy's presence — the man was over him, above him, on him, and in him. It wasn't making the boy claustrophobic. It was more like they were conjoined twins, touching skin to skin in so many places. They were face to face; Tichy was right there. His cock was right there, too, undulating in and out of Marek's bottom, thrusting rhythmically, pressing against that magic spot inside the boy every single time. He was making Marek's cock tingle. At one point, Marek felt like he was orgasming, then it happened again, and again. It was like a perpetual orgasm, never actually reaching full climax like an eruption, but more like a slow, lava flow of pleasure.

"Uhhh," the boy gasped as he literally shuddered. He hadn't meant to make a noise. He was doing a lot of things he didn't mean to do. His mouth was open, almost slack-jawed. Although he could barely move under the man, he was trying to position his bottom a bit more upright, just a tiny bit, because that seemed to enhance the sensation of the man's cockhead rubbing against his inner penis or whatever the heck that thing inside him was.

"Uhhh," he exhaled again, after a particularly nice prod from Tichy's cock led to a particularly nice tingle in the base of Marek's. He hoped the man wouldn't notice. Marek was embarrassed. He couldn't even say it was because he hadn't cum recently. He had cum in the truck. It hadn't been days and weeks of deprivation. So why was his cock so hard? Why was it tingling? Why was Marek reacting this way to being fucked? Would Tichy notice? Would he taunt and tease Marek for being a poof? The boy was afraid he would cry if Tichy did so, because he was very worried that that was exactly what he had become.

"You like this, don't you boy?" Tichy asked with a smile as fucked away. "This actually feels good, doesn't it?" Tichy wasn't really asking or guessing, but he wasn't taunting or mocking the kid, either. His words were intended to stoke a fire and made a mess inside the boy's mind.

As he had feared, Tichy did taunt him, and Marek turned his head away and tried to fight his emotions. But for once, the man wasn't demeaning him and calling him names. Maybe he wasn't even teasing Marek, but just stating a fact. Did that make it even worse? Marek didn't know. His head was spinning, and he felt confused and ashamed. But there was simply no denying what else he felt, and that was pleasure. Tichy was fucking him, and it felt good, and that was the most worrisome thing of all. It was so worrisome, in fact, that despite his fears, Marek finally mustered the resolve to speak.

"No," he gasped in denial, because he was a self-respecting boy, not a poof, and he still had self-respect. But even as he said it, he knew he was lying, and he knew that Tichy knew it, too.

For Tichy, it was a joy to see the boy so aroused, huffing in pleasure and surprise, unable to hold back. Tichy enjoyed punishing and hurting the kid, but he was also a cute, handsome, hot boy and getting a clearly sexual reaction from him felt good on a primal and instinctive level for a few minutes almost equaled Tichy's deeply ingrained sadistic streak. Taking the boy's wrists in his hands, Tichy took Marek's arms and stretched them out towards the headboard. This exposed his sides and armpits, something the ticklish boy became quite aware of as the man slid his palms down his arms and sides all the way to his hips.

Marek swallowed nervously as the man stretched his arms out. The position suggested he would be tickled, and the way Tichy tickled it wasn't a fun experience, but he didn't dare try to fight the man, nor did he try to protect himself. If the man started tickling him, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from panicking once again, but all Tichy did was slide his hands down Marek's flanks, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The tingle from that almost seemed to merge with the tingle from the spot deep in his loins, making his body shiver with the electricity of it all.

"Sometimes I wish I understood you, young mister Hurta," chuckled the man. "I was about to suggest that you beg for a nice cum, and I was going let you if you begged nicely," he sighed. Tichy wasn't even lying, but what he didn't mention was that he had in mind a very frustrating, prostate only-orgasm for the boy. Not so much as a finger would touch Marek's dick, which was likely to leave the boy tingly and needy and still horny, and not spent and satisfied in the way he was used to from masturbating.

Marek looked up at the man as he spoke. Tichy was using Marek's surname, complete with "mister." It was never good when an adult used your full name, but of course, Marek's last name also carried a lot of hidden and unwanted meaning at the school generally, and with Tichy in particular. A cum would have been nice. Very nice. But it also would happen with a lot of guilty feelings, too, especially given the circumstances, and Marek wasn't all that upset that he wasn't going to be allowed to have one.

"But that's fine," Tichy added. "Just remember that you aren't allowed to cum and what your punishment was the last time you did so without permission; it'll be worse the next time if you're foolish enough to do it again," said Tichy. He had tried to keep his voice neutral but wasn't quite able to keep an icy edge out of it. He meant what he said, even as he proceeded to jab the spot inside Marek harder and faster, bringing the little liar closer and closer to an involuntary prostate-gasm.

"I won't," Marek committed to the man. No way was he going to try to cum while he was locked in Tichy's apartment. "You won't uhhhhhh have to, Mr. Tichy," he gasped up at the man as Tichy's cock hit his spot once again. He wouldn't dare touch his cock, but what if he came right now from what the man's cock was doing to him? Would Tichy punish him? Marek thought he very likely would.

"Um, Mr. Tichy?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, boy?" said Tichy with a knowing smile. He already knew full well where this was going for Marek unless he stopped or at least dramatically changed what he was doing right there. Jab, jab, jab, jab he went against the boy's "male G-spot," steadily and accurately, with just enough force to give it a good poke each time, but not with too much force. The man was making sure that it didn't hurt; he simply wanted to squeeze the liquid out of the boy's prostate and gonads with no pleasure involved at all. If Marek only oozed cum, punishing him for cumming would be technically unfair. If, however, the boy squirted all over himself, especially right after denying that this even felt good – now that was another story, wasn't it?

Would he use a bigger whip then? A belt? What else could he do to the kid's balls without sending Marek straight to hospital? Tichy wasn't sure, but one thing was certain: If the kid came without permission after stubbornly denying how good it felt, Tichy was going to punish him severely for both cumming and lying. He would even risk damage to Marek's balls to get his point across. The kid may not have been fully aware that he was playing with fire here. Yet it wasn't too late for Marek to admit he had lied, that something pleasurable indeed was going on for him. Tichy wondered if he was going to stop if Marek did, or if he was just going to snap at him for being a liar and force him to cum and be punished for it anyway. It depended on what the boy had to say and in what tone.

Marek was worried. The tingly pleasure he was feeling from the man's cock in his stomach was making his penis jut and strain for orgasm with every thrust. He could feel his cock striving for orgasm, entirely untouched. It felt exactly like when he stroked it, always hard and fast, and he could feel the sensation building in his balls. He would bring his hand higher then, over the cockhead itself, and then he would explode and shoot his cum. This felt like that. If anyone or anything touched his cockhead right now, or anywhere on his shaft, Marek would shoot. And now he wasn't sure that a touch would even be necessary.

"Uhhh Mr. Tichy … it doesn't- I don't- it feels like I might cum," Marek stammered, and even in the time it took him to get those words out, it seemed even more likely that he was going to cum. But the man didn't stop. Tichy kept right on doing what he was doing.

"Mr. Tichy," Marek said through clenched teeth as he strained against the pleasure. He sometimes did that, too, trying to hold back the wave even as he pumped his fist as hard and as fast as he could. He could never hold it back for long, but those were some of his best cums of all.

"Mr. Tichy … I think- I think I need to pee." But he didn't need to pee. He knew exactly what he needed to do. He needed the man to stop before it went too far, but the man wasn't stopping.

"Mr. Tichy, uhhhh, I think … I think I'm gonna uhhhhh cum if you don't stop," he said, his voice almost a whimper now.

Tichy paused as Marek dissolved into begging. What did he want more: A chastised boy who had to admit his pleasure and be left needy, with blue balls, as good as negating his quick wank the day before, or a boy full-on freaking out because he had cum involuntarily and was going to have his little eggs scrambled for it? Tichy wasn't sure what outcome he preferred.

"Well, if you cum, I'm going to punish you," he told the kid. "I'll really punish your cock and balls. Don't you remember yesterday? Have you forgotten so fast? Your cock and balls are still visibly marked a bit and here you are, one moment saying you are feeling no pleasure, but the next moment you're about to cum without permission, which would get you into terrible trouble. It seems like you're facing an awful, dreadful predicament of your own making, Marek," he said as he shook his head disapprovingly.

"I think I promised you the choice between a whipping with a full-sized whip and snipping your balls off, actually," he said as he resumed some thrusts into the boy's rectum. "So, what are we going to do now? I'm not going to stop just because you lied and got yourself to the verge of trouble, am I?" he inquired darkly.

Marek felt his skin grow cold, and that momentarily helped to quell the near-orgasmic pleasure he was feeling in his cock. He swallowed nervously as all the enjoyment he had been feeling suddenly converted into fear. If he did not fight off this orgasm, he was completely fucked, yet fighting it off – clenching and squeezing – was exactly what he sometimes tried to do when he wanked, and it never worked. It never, ever, not one time worked. No matter how hard he tried, the orgasm always won, which was kind of the point, of course, but his efforts to stop it were real enough. This felt pretty much exactly like that. The only difference was, his right hand wasn't involved, but he wasn't sure that would matter.

He started to move under the man, wiggling a bit, trying to make Tichy's cock not hit the spot that brought the tingles. It was no use.

"Mr. Tichy … it- I wasn't- uhhhhh-," he gasped, as the man hit his spot once again. His cock was straining to cum. His cumming muscles clenched with need as his cock tried to erupt all on its own, untouched. Marek knew he was fucked if he couldn't talk his way out of this. Tichy would whip his balls until they fell off, and like any boy, Marek dreaded ball pain more than just about any other kind of pain there was.

"Mr. Tichy, please let me cum … I'm begging – you said I could beg," he reminded the man. "I think it's going to do it, uhhhh," he gasped. He really clenched now. He bucked, too, from underneath the man, somehow using his boyish strength to lift the man's weight a bit as well as his own. His cock strained again, as if reaching for the ceiling. Marek felt like any moment now, his cock would erupt completely on its own.

"I lied, Mr. Tichy," he whimpered. "I was scared … it feels good," he admitted to the man. Marek was on the verge of tears. He was such a fucking poof now. His own words confirmed it. "It feels really good, on the inside," he added.

His cock strained again, convulsing, still only dry firing but straining to squirt an enormous cumload up into the man's abdomen. Marek's balls felt heavy, laden, and dull with need and his eyes were almost crossed as Tichy Kept. Hitting. That. Spot.

Tichy pounced. "Now, now. That means you lied to me, Marek. You lied. You're lucky I'll let that go unpunished, but it most certainly means you've blown your chance to beg and earn a release. Just a day after a wank, you have no excuse not to have some control over yourself. You clearly are turned on and about to cum from butt-fucking, and that's obviously because your butt likes to be fucked. Lying to me was a mistake, Marek, and I hope you realize that now," said Tichy. At least he sounded calm and was saying it in a gently reproachful, almost lecturing sort of tone.

Marek was on a knife's edge. It felt like he was on the absolute cusp of cumming, and part of him wanted to cum so bad he didn't care if it was the last time his balls ever functioned properly. The other part of him – the part that was terrified of Tichy and resolutely opposed to pain – was scared to death that he was seconds away from earning himself a ferocious punishment. His cock was rigidly hard, seemingly harder than it had ever been before, and straining. It kept straining and spasming as Tichy's cock grazed and poked at the spot in his stomach.

"You're lucky you've just sucked my cock better than any boy before, and there have been a few good ones over the years," said Tichy as he pulled out, leaving Marek on the edge and pent up with craving and need. Mercifully, the man did not deliver those last few jabs that would have made the boy squirt.

"The next time before you lie and deny what's going on for you, think!" he added, a bit more sharply; that was a warning. He then scooted over towards the head of the bed, leaned against the headboard, and cocked his head.

Marek gasped again as Tichy pulled out. The boy's cock spasmed and throbbed, and for the next several seconds it still felt like he would cum. Then the sensation subsided a bit. Marek breathed a sigh of relief as Tichy chastised him for lying.

"I know, Mr. Tichy," Marek whimpered in a gasping voice. He knew he shouldn't have lied, not even about that. Lying to Tichy never ended well, not on any topic. But he didn't want to be a poof. He didn't want to become a poof because of what Tichy was doing to him, but how could he deny what he felt when Tichy fucked him?

"Yes, sir, I won't, sir," Marek panted. Lying had been stupid. The boy's own cock had betrayed him.

"Well, how do you think I'm going to finish? You're lucky today — I'm not gonna force you to squirt and destroy your marbles for it, so be glad and finish me off nicely with your mouth."

Of course, there was no question of wiping off the lube and stickiness coating Tichy's cock; cleanups were a part of Marek's job – see Rule 5. And this was going to be two in one: a cleanup and a good-enough blowjob to make Tichy cum again. At least it wouldn't involve Marek's balls being whipped into a bloody mess or cut off.

There was something extra satisfying about making the boy suck him while his own dick remained stubbornly stiff with need. So far, Tichy had mainly used the no-cum rule with his boys to demonstrate how thorough and personal his control was over them and to keep them needy and more willing, but with Marek, this was another thing reaching a new dimension. Tichy didn't want Marek just broadly needy and under his control. He really wanted to stir up the intensity and urges powerful enough in the boy to mess with his head and heart, and if he could do some of that with the boy's mouth obediently wrapped around his slimy shaft, he certainly wasn't going to complain.

The boy was very confused and unhappy. How could being fucked by Tichy possibly feel so good? Marek wasn't a poof! He wasn't a homosexual! But Tichy was right – he was turned on by what the man was doing to him. He was so turned on he wanted to cum from it without even wanking. There was no denying it, yet he had denied it to Tichy – stupidly, defensively, and impulsively. He simply couldn't be turned on by being fucked in the ass, yet he had been. He knew exactly what that made him. Marek was a very miserable boy.

It took Marek a few seconds to realize what Tichy wanted, but when he did, he scrambled to his knees and immediately placed himself in position between the man's legs. Marek's cock was still hard as a nail as he reached for the man's slimy shaft and lipped it into his mouth. All the familiar tastes were there as he began his second blowjob of the day. What he really wanted to do instead was grasp his own cock shaft and finish himself off. The way he felt right now, it wouldn't have taken more than five seconds to cum, and it left the boy aching with desire, struggling to keep his hands away.

Tichy leaned back and relaxed. Marek was very good at giving head by this point, broken well beyond resisting any aspect of it, and one could even say talented. Changing the plan in mid-stream like this meant two things. First, while the stimulation of Mare's ass had been tighter and stronger and would have made Tichy cum sooner, switching to a blowjob mean that it was going to take a bit longer. And secondly, Marek was hard in a way that wouldn't go away easily, not without a release that wasn't going to come to the lying boy.

Tichy greatly enjoyed the fact that the boy was visibly, obviously, and extremely aroused as he serviced him. The man's muscular arm reached and trailed down Marek's naked back until his index finger slipped between Marek's cheeks and inserted itself in his pucker. The man didn't press deep or strong enough to stimulate the kid's prostate and make him cum, but he did tease that general area, especially the boy's sensitive anus. Tichy suspected that the sensations he was providing would be enough to keep Marek hard for as long as the man wanted to keep him hard, which was definitely at least until after the end of this round of cock sucking.

Marek started in on his familiar blowjob routine, using a few bobs to get the man's shaft wet with his saliva before beginning some deeper, most-of-the-way-down plunges. Fortunately, Tichy hadn't been demanding the gag-inducing, all-the-way plunges that inevitably made the boy choke and vomit. Marek would do that if the man told him to, but without a nearby bucket or toilet bowl, the mess would go everywhere, and the boy knew that the man would not want his bed, or the bedroom floor defiled in that way. He kept his plunges to a reasonable depth, which was deep enough to please the man but still shallow enough that Marek was confident he wouldn't void the contents of his stomach. It still was a lot of cock for a 12-year-old.

As he sucked, though, Marek's mind was elsewhere. His cock was stubbornly hard, not just erected, but steely. His erection had not subsided, and it served as a constant reminder of its own betrayal and Marek's arousal. But why was he aroused? Why? Why did being fucked by Tichy make his cock feel better than any other time, save for when he was wanking himself? Even then it didn't feel as good as when Tichy fucked him, at least not until right at the very end when he used his hand to bring himself over the edge to orgasm – not that he was ever doing that again.

There was only one explanation, and Marek hated the simple truth of it: He enjoyed being fucked by the man. The first few times, it had hurt. There had been pain deep inside from the man's penetration and friction against his anal ring; he had even bled some. But as he had grown more accustomed to the man's cock, the pain had subsided, and instead of becoming merely tolerable, being fucked in the ass by Tichy had started to become pleasurable. Not every time, of course, but Marek could not deny that there had been several times when Tichy had fucked him – or when he had fucked himself atop Tichy – that it had felt good. It had felt good enough to get Marek erect and make him want to cum. Hard cocks don't lie, even if boys do, and Marek's cock wasn't lying about the pleasure it felt.

So now he was a poof. He got off on being fucked by a man. How could he deny it? He wasn't the slightest bit attracted to Tichy physically, or at least he didn't think he was. The man also terrified him. Why would he be attracted to him? He wasn't attracted to men or even other boys. So why? Why? Was he attracted to girls? He hadn't really … thought about it much. He was attracted to cumming. He liked to wank. Marek continued to suck, but his mind was troubled and elsewhere. This blowjob wasn't as good an effort as his first one. He was a confused and very unhappy boy.

Tichy noticed the blowjob wasn't of the same quality, not ten out of ten stars as before, but his expectations were realistic. He knew the boy was in turmoil and distracted, and the finger up his little butt hole probably didn't help with that, either. He continued to toy with Marek's pucker, first with just one finger before he decided to force a more intense sensation on the boy and slipped two fingers just past the kid's ring, teasing and massaging his way in. He occasionally slipped out and rubbed the boy's taut, straining taint, mostly because he still was having fun with just how hard Marek's slender dick was. Soon enough, he was back in the boy's ass, first one finger, then two. In, out, twist, turn; Tichy was having fun with the kid's ass even as the Glass King's grandson obediently bobbed away to earn his second load of spunk that evening alone.

There were still students just a block away in the other wing, and staff members, too, but thanks to Marek's foolish escape attempt, none of that mattered now. The two of them were in a locked flat where Marek had been brought with Skala's permission to avoid another disappearing act. Tichy now held all the cards. He had all the power he could possibly hope to have over the sole, living descendant of the region's most famous tyrant, and it felt good. Tichy hooked his fingers in the kid's ass and slipped them a little deeper, poking Marek in the right spot, just once, just to show him it didn't even take a cock to give him a jolt of that tingly, electric feeling.

Marek flinched as the man's fingers found his slick hole and penetrated him there casually, as if the man owned his body, which Marek supposed he pretty much did. Tichy owned all of Marek, and for a least the next two weeks, he owned him without any real restrictions on what he could do to him. Marek still wasn't quite sure how that had happened so seamlessly, how he had fallen so inescapably into the clutches of a man who, even if he denied hating the boy, wanted to hurt and punish him for the next several years. Literally years. He was under the control of a man who had gone to considerable effort to bring the boy here to the school and had plotted and planned so successfully that he now had Marek living with him and at his beck and call.

How had this happened? How could Tichy get away with it so easily? This wasn't the period just after the war when there were no authorities and no rules, and vengeance could be exacted, especially if you were of German descent. It was 1979! It was almost 1980! How could Tichy get away with this so completely that Marek couldn't even think of a way to stop him, much less formulate a plan to escape and successfully implement it?

The simple fact was that Tichy was determined to punish and abuse him, and Marek was out of options to prevent it. He had essentially become the man's slave. His slave and his sex partner. If Tichy wanted to stick his fingers in Marek's ass, he could do it. If he wanted to force the boy to give him a blowjob, he could do it. If he wanted to fuck Marek, he could do it. The same for beatings, punishments, and miscellaneous tortures. Nothing stopped the man from doing whatever he wanted to Marek. Certainly nothing had Marek tried so far had worked.

The finger in his ass was distracting. It wasn't helping the blowjob. Marek's cock remained rock-hard even before the man found the spot inside him that felt good. It was Marek's poof spot. Tichy found it again and it felt good again. It was maddening the way his body kept betraying him. Marek was about to give up, give in, and just become the poof boy that Tichy already thought he was.

Tichy didn't stop. He had no reason to. He wasn't as contemplative about it as Marek was in that moment, but their thoughts were, for once, mostly aligned. He knew that he could do whatever he wanted to the kid, whenever he wanted, up to and including administering punishments that were almost medieval in nature if Marek dared to step out of line.

For the moment, however, pain was not the reaction he was after. He settled into a rhythm, twisting and turning his fingers inside the boy, giving him three shallow, hook-shaped motions that teased Marek's pucker before the fourth hit the target precisely. The man went slowly and gently, being careful not to bring the kid over the edge. With his fingers where they were, he could feel every bit of tension in the youngster's body, every twitch. This meant, in a funny sort of way, that he could edge the boy with virtually no risk of bringing him off accidentally because he was going to feel the kid's body clenching just before an orgasm, easily and with certainty.

Eventually, Tichy came. As his sticky, salty seed gushed into Marek's mouth, he dipped his fingers deeper into the kid's ass and massaged the boy's spot continually, until Marek almost came along with him just as the boy's mouth was flooded with cum. He was rewarding Marek for his effort but also teasing him, trying to associate in Marek's mind the act of getting Tichy off with feeling good himself, but in a helpless, directionless, out-of-control sort of way. Moments later, Tichy withdrew his fingers from Marek's butt just as it started to clench on him; the boy's treacherous body clearly wanted more, even if Marek didn't want to admit it.

Marek was not concentrating fully on the blowjob. His mind was spinning with angst, confusion, and worry, even as Tichy's fingers were making his butt and his cock feel good. It was too much for the 12-year-old to contemplate all that and still give Tichy another premium suck. His bobs and plunges were erratic, his tongue work haphazard. Eventually, the pleasure he was feeling rose to the forefront of his focus, mixed with his fear of the consequences if he came. These overpowered his need to perform for the man as his cock strained, flexed, throbbed, and spasmed for release. The blowjob he was supposed to be performing was a distant afterthought to the pleasure, and when the man came, it surprised Marek. Some of Tichy's cum went down the wrong pipe, causing Marek to choke once, then again, before he suppressed the urge to gag outright and concentrated on swallowing the man's ejaculate, only to turn his attention immediately back to the pleasure Tichy was making him feel deep inside.

But just as the boy was sure he was going to get his orgasm and felt he didn't give a damn about the consequences, the man removed his fingers, leaving Marek desperate once again. The boy's cock quivered with need. This wasn't fair. The boy knew that Tichy was doing this to him on purpose. His penis ached and strained with need. Marek no longer cared if he was a poof. He pulled off the man's cock.

"Mr. Tichy," he whispered, as he betrayed himself. "Please let me cum." He slid the man's cockhead back into his mouth and swirled it with his tongue, looking up at the man all the while, giving him eyes. He pulled off again. "Please sir?" he asked again.

"I much prefer this attitude," said Tichy as he gently caressed Marek's hair. "I like this tone. It's good. It'll work, too, if you keep trying, but sadly not on the back of lying and messing up today. Maybe tomorrow, if you keep up the honesty from now on and stick to good behavior," said Tichy with a shrug.

Marek eyes registered his disappointment at the man's verdict, but he hadn't really expected him to say yes. At least the man hadn't responded with ridicule and taunts. The boy's request had been a surrender of sorts, or maybe more like an acknowledgment of the truth that hard cocks spoke, and if Tichy had teased him for it, Marek may well have sobbed with despondency. But Tichy's tone was soft, and his touch was gentle. Marek liked this Tichy better, too. He liked this Tichy much better than the mean version, the one that punished and hurt. And then there was the promise that perhaps, just maybe, tomorrow would be the day. Marek lipped the man's soft cockhead back inside his mouth for another quick swirl of his tongue, then pulled off entirely.

"Thank you, sir," he said softly. "I'm sorry I lied."

"C'mon," the man said with a nod as he slipped out of the bed and opened the old, creaky, double-glazed window as wide as it would open, letting the steamy, sex-heavy, damp, hot air out, and the frosty gust of winter air in. It was snowing lightly but steadily outside, but it was not the kind of snowfall that was likely to shut things down or disrupt traffic.

Tichy turned, expecting to see Marek behind him, only to remember that the boy still couldn't walk. Sure enough, Marek was kneeling on the floor next to the bed, still fully erect, with an apprehensive look on his face.

Tichy ushered the crawling boy into the bathroom and left him kneeling there as he showered quickly. When he was done, he stepped out of the tub and nodded for Marek to climb in.

"This will help with your problem for now," he said with a smile as he switched the water to completely cold, which this time of the year in Brod meant shockingly, instantly, pins-and-needles, freezing cold. As soon as the water touched him, Marek's fit body instantly was reduced to shivers and goosepimples. Tichy gave the kneeling boy a good, long soak, then soaped him up and rinsed him off, leaving the child shivering with blue lips and a flaccid penis when he was done. He dried himself first, then dried the still-kneeling Marek and directed him back into the bedroom, which was now well-aired and temporarily frosty. As he closed the window, he could hear Marek's teeth chattering a mile a minute from his freeze therapy. The boy was very eager to climb into bed and get warm.

Tichy pulled Marek up onto the bed, covered them both with a duvet, snuggled against the shivering 12-year-old's slight frame, and let his body heat be nice and comforting for the boy. Once situated, he reached for the switch and turned the light off.

Marek snuggled against Tichy for warmth, seeking as much contact as he could get with Tichy's body. It was another poof moment in a full day of them, but at this point, Marek didn't care. What was the point? Marek was exhausted, and there was no way to deny that he was Tichy's poof-boy, so why should he even bother to try?

Tichy spooned Marek from behind, his limp cock and balls squishing against the boy's initially cold butt, but not even stirring anymore. The man was sated and content, and the shivering boy felt very nice against his warm body. Marek was lean and small but not weak – not too weak, anyway, at least for a 12-year-old boy. Versus Tichy, however, the boy was completely helpless, and the man liked it that way. He liked the control it gave him, the absolute power, but gently spooning Marek like this was also pleasant and desirable for a change. It was nice and it felt right. It was easy for the man to drift off to sleep sound and well, skin on skin against his naked boy toy, his left arm wrapped protectively but also still controlling around Marek's slender, shivering frame.

NEXT PART