Chapter 19

Marek was absolutely freezing from the ice-cold shower and the chilled air in the room, and even with his body snuggled against Tichy, it was several minutes before his shivering subsided enough for him to even think about falling asleep. The cold did have the effect of dousing his arousal; his cock and balls had shrunken to toddler size, and the pressing need to cum was long gone from his loins. Marek wasn't even remotely interested in cumming anymore. He was tired. The stress, anxiety, and physical exertions associated with his sessions with Tichy often left the 12-year-old exhausted under the best of circumstances, but now that he was stuck with the man full-time, the need always to be on his guard and the energy required to do so had made his fatigue problem even worse. Once he had warmed up sufficiently, he quickly fell into a deep slumber.

His rest was not dreamless, however. Marek moved in and out of REM cycles in his sleep, igniting several dreams. In one of them, he was running down the first-floor corridor of the administration building, and it seemed endless. He was being chased by several boys, older ones, bullies. They were as intent on catching him as Marek was on getting away. They eventually caught him, but instead of being beaten up, Marek instantly was transported to the infirmary where he was in bed, talking to the kindly nurse. Oddly, he seemed unharmed, as if the bullies had not really caught up to him after all. He was talking with the nurse, chit-chatting really, when she reached under his pillow and extracted a pair of pink panties.

Her expression changed as she dangled them in his face. She looked down at Marek with an angry expression. Mr. Skala suddenly was there too; he had simply appeared in the dream as if from out of the ether. The man was frowning at Marek and shaking his head at the sight of the panties.

"We'll have to send you home," Mr. Skala said as his voice seemed to echo, even though it had no business echoing in the little recovery room with its partition walls and nothing more than a curtain blocking the view of Marek's bed from the doorway. He handed the boy a large, white envelope, the flap of which was open. "Be sure to give this to your mother, my boy," he said as Radek suddenly appeared with Marek's travel trunk, which he placed on the floor.

The nurse, Skala, and Radek all backed away and faded into nothingness as Tichy now appeared, holding stacks and stacks of identical white envelopes in his arms. There were dozens of them, probably scores of them.

"You can never go home," said Tichy as he placed the envelopes on the end of Marek's bed where they miraculously balanced there, one atop the other in a pile five feet [1.5m] high, which somehow was even more envelopes than Tichy had even been carrying. They formed a tower at the foot of Marek's bed.

"You can never go home," repeated Tichy, as he swept Marek's sheet down and off the boy's body. Marek was naked of course, and his cock was rigidly hard. Tichy grasped it. "We have hours together – hours," he said, as he began to masturbate the boy.

"You can never go home," repeated dream Tichy as he massaged Marek's cock. "We have days together – days."

Marek humped at the man's hand, seeking the pleasure that he knew it could bring, but dream Tichy disapproved. "No jerking, no rubbing, no humping, no nothing," said the man with a shake of his head. "We have weeks together – weeks."

Marek could feel a strange, dull pressure in his balls. It was more achy than pleasurable. He felt more fear than exhilaration as the man slowly masturbated him.

"We have months together – months," said dream Tichy as he continued slowly to masturbate the boy.

Marek could feel the pressure building in his loins and despite his fear and the ache, he wanted to cum. He strained and undulated against Tichy's hand. He desperately wanted to cum. He needed to cum.

"No cumming," said dream Tichy as he lazily wanked Marek's cock, "or I will unleash absolute hell on your balls and ass."

"You can never go home," dream Tichy repeated, as his hand suddenly left the boy's erection. Marek humped at it, trying to find it again, but it was gone.

"We have years together – years!" said Tichy, as he let loose a deep-throated, booming, evil laugh. "We have years together, Marek. Years and years. Years. YEARS. YEEEEEEEEAAARS! Ha haaa haaa haaaa haaaaaa haa haaa haaaaa haaaa ha haaaa haaaaaaaaaaaa!"

The real Tichy awoke from his sleep and realized that the room still was dark. It seemed too early to be morning to be awake. He glanced dazedly at the clock. It was 4:20 a.m. He was erect and feeling a bit odd, but it took him a few moments to realized why. Marek was asleep but apparently dreaming, as he had been grinding his buttocks back against Tichy's crotch. It took the groggy man another few moments to realize that this was likely was only a secondary or accidental outcome of the boy's motion, as Marek was dry humping a fold of the duvet, apparently about to have a wet dream.

Tichy quickly peeled the duvet entirely off the naked boy and wrapped his arm around Marek's shoulders and chest. He placed his leg over the boy's hips, keeping him on his side and preventing him from humping the mattress. He did all this slowly and gently even as the boy stirred and tried to resist the restriction. Marek's hips pumped some more, but his cock was hitting only air now and not receiving even a hint of stimulation.

Tichy grinned. Despite Marek's unauthorized wank during his ill-advised escape attempt, the man had managed to get the kid this needy and horny in just the short time they had been together since. That was sweet. Tichy didn't even mind being woken up in the middle of the night by the boy's arousal. He held Marek softly but relentlessly until the boy's dream had passed and his attempts to hump had faded away, and as he did so he wondered how this experience had been translated into the boy's dream. It must have been frustrating to Marek to be denied pleasure even during a dream!

Tichy pulled the duvet back over them and managed to fall back asleep without much trouble and woke up only when the alarm sounded at seven o'clock. He slammed the upper part of the clock mechanism down to stop the harsh, sharp beeping sound and quickly checked the duvet to make sure that Marek hadn't somehow managed to finish his wet dream. If he had, it would almost be a shame to have to beat the kid again so soon, but no. Marek was rigidly hard with morning wood, but there was no sign of any boy cum anywhere.

Tichy smiled to himself. He was half tempted to fuck Marek again to start the day, or demand a blowjob simply because he could, but he had a better idea. Stepping from the bed, he reached underneath it and pulled out a sack with a coil of rope inside. The rope he extracted from the sack was longer and sturdier than the skipping ropes he kept in his office. He quickly tied the stirring-but-still-sleeping boy's wrists together, then climbed on a chair and hooked the rope over a big iron hook in the ceiling that evidently had once held a big chandelier back when the internat had been a monastery. The hook was more than strong enough to hold the weight of a small boy, and possibly even that of a man.

Marek awoke with a startle. His hair was disheveled, and his expression was blank with that boyish, just-woke-up look to it. He had an erection, but that was nothing new for him in the morning. Before he even knew what was happening, Tichy had pulled him by his arm from the bed to the floor, and as he landed there with a thud, he realized his wrists were tied. He struggled to his knees as Tichy began to pull the rope through the hook, which in turn pulled Marek up by his wrists until he was standing, quite painfully on his beaten feet, on the bedroom floor. Tichy kept pulling and tightened the rope so that Marek had to stand straight underneath the hook on his tiptoes with his arms stretched above his head. The man then hung a pair of pink panties on the boy's erection and stepped away to get dressed.

Marek grunted in pain as the man hauled him upright by his wrists. His shoulders took much of the strain as he dangled precariously at first while trying to get his feet underneath him. As soon as he did, the soles of his feet reacted as if they had been ignited, bringing hot tears to Marek's eyes, and jerking him fully awake. He moaned and tried to use his shoulders and arms to keep the weight off his feet. He was successful to a degree, but how long would his arm strength last?

"I'll go get breakfast," Tichy informed the straining boy. "I won't be too long. If you want your begging to work today and hope to have a chance to cum, those panties will still be in place and not on the floor when I come back," he chuckled as he left the tautly stretched, naked, and aroused boy in the room that despite being objectively warm, nevertheless felt somewhat chilly after the humid warmth of their shared duvet. The outer door banged shut and locked, leaving Marek alone in the flat.

The boy listened silently as Tichy issued his instructions and departed. He tried to lower his feet to the floor once again to take the pressure off his shoulders, but adding any weight to them brought sharp, shooting pain. Trying to bear his weight on his tip toes made it feel like parts of his feet that weren't even touching the floor were walking on shards of broken glass. He simply couldn't put any weight on his feet at all without feeling it. Yet because he lacked the strength to keep himself entirely off the floor, he was forced to put the balls of his feet down repeatedly. This caused agony in the arches of both feet and brought tears to his eyes.

He dared not call out after Tichy. Even through his blurred vision, he could see Rule 3 clearly posted on the man's door. Rule 3 pertained to punishments that were supposed to hurt and be uncomfortable and hard, and this clearly was a punishment of some sort, or something. It hurt too much not to be, and the man certainly knew the condition of Marek's feet; he had caused that condition, after all. The alternative to complaining about a punishment was "A LOT OF PAIN," read Rule 3. Marek had written the last four words in all caps at Tichy's direction. His feet, though, already were in a lot of pain as he tried desperately to support at least some of the weight of his body and take the strain off his shoulders.

None of this did anything for the boy's arousal. His erection subsided, forgotten, and the panties eventually slipped off his now-drooping cock to the floor. Marek hardly noticed; his entire focus was on alleviating the pain in his shoulders and his feet at the same time, or at least trying to balance the pain equally between them. His feet gave him no respite as he tried desperately to hold himself up using his arms alone. He couldn't. He simply didn't have the upper-body strength. His shoulders ached and hurt, but not as much as his feet. Tichy had done a number on them with the cane, and they burned like blazes.

Marek tried to keep his moans of pain to a minimum as he waited for Tichy to return. Every little while he lifted his feet up and put the strain back on his shoulders, only to lower himself a few seconds later as his strength gave out. Please come back, Marek willed the man silently. Please come back soon. The wait seemed interminable, but he dared not call out, not with Rule 3 staring him in the face and the man likely too far away to hear.

Minutes ticked away as Marek suffered. His feet were killing him. Under normal circumstances he probably could have stood on them – at least, he thought he could – but Tichy had left him dangling so that he was on his tip toes, and that was excruciating whenever he tried to put his weight down on them. The arches of his feet burned with pain as the muscles and ligaments stretched whenever the balls of his feet touched the floor, but he couldn't keep his weight entirely off them. He kept trying to help with his shoulders and arm muscles, but they could not take the entire load for very long. They also were tiring rapidly, and Marek didn't know how much longer he could rely on them to take even some of the pressure off his feet.

The boy bowed his head in pain and caught sight of the panties lying forgotten on the floor. Tichy probably thought all this time that Marek was working hard to maintain his erection, but all that the boy could think about was controlling the pain in his shoulders and feet. Or had Tichy done this to him on purpose? Marek wasn't sure, but it hardly mattered. His feet had been punished because he had run away, and the boy very much doubted that Tichy would cut him any slack because they now hurt as a result. He had as much as said so yesterday, even as he had mercifully allowed Marek to crawl after his beating. The boy looked up at the wall again at Rule 3. He would just have to endure it until Tichy returned, whenever that was.

Ultimately, Marek got lucky – if he could call what was happening to him luck. Tichy briefly considered eating his breakfast in the canteen, but none of his colleagues were there so he didn't need to feign politeness. He loaded up a tray with white bread rolls, butter, jam, and other traditional breakfast items, including two cups of cocoa, before returning to the apartment. All in all, his trip had taken him almost exactly 15 minutes.

Tichy reentered the apartment and immediately saw that Marek had failed the challenge and was struggling in pain. The pink panties were lying in a crumpled heap on the floor at the boy's feet. Tichy smiled to himself and put the food tray on the kitchen table before returning to the bedroom.

"No boner? No cummies today," he teased the boy in a playful, condescending voice that sounded like he was talking to a toddler. Tichy sat down in the chair to watch the kid suffer for a few moments. He honestly hadn't intended his little game to be so painful for the lad, but Marek was here to be punished after all, and the sight of his taut, young body straining like this simply was too beautiful not to behold for a few moments. The boy's moans and gasps added to the ambience and contributed mightily to the Tichy's growing arousal. There were few things the man enjoyed more in life than watching a cute young boy struggling and suffering in pain, and he had long since stopped pretending otherwise.

Marek didn't reply or even look up as the man entered the room and addressed him. His pain level was so high that it was all he could do to stop himself from bawling and screaming. He concentrated instead on getting through each successive five- or ten-second interval, gasping and panting for air as he used the diminishing strength in his arms and shoulders to relieve at least some of the agony in in the soles of his feet. Marek whimpered in pain with every breath he took. There was no sense in trying to be brave about it; after 15 minutes, Tichy's little game had left him exhausted and in agony.

The man watched Marek suffer for a few additional minutes, studying the boy's pain carefully and taking mental notes like the connoisseur he was. When he thought he had seen enough and only then, Tichy untied the rope from the bed and slowly lowered the boy to the floor.

"On your knees," he instructed, and moments later, Marek was completely untied and gasping for breath on his hands and knees on the bedroom floor. Tichy simply ignored him. He moved the chair back to its normal spot, then conspicuously removed his trousers and underwear, placing them on the bed. Leaving Marek to recover, he returned to the kitchen to eat.

When the man finally left the room, Marek moaned once and collapsed to the floor on his stomach. He was exhausted and his feet were killing him. He closed his eyes to rest. He felt like he had run a marathon barefoot and on gravel, and yet, it still was early in the morning. He had the entire day with Tichy ahead of him, and he knew that he somehow would have to find the stamina to get through it. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage it, much less get through the days after that. The boy was rapidly approaching the point of despair. Tichy had him in his clutches for the next two weeks, but Marek wasn't sure how he could make it through the next two hours.

"Why isn't there a mouth wrapped around my cock and sucking already?" Tichy growled from the kitchen. He had given the boy a minute or two to recover, and that seemed sufficiently generous to him. After all, Marek had seen him take his pants off and knew exactly what he was expected to do next. Any further delay on the boy's part would constitute defiance and bring a painful punishment.

"I'm coming, sir," Marek replied wearily as he rose to his hands and knees, crawled into the kitchen, and parked himself between the man's thighs. He eyed Tichy's cock warily. What number blowjob was this? It seemed that the man never tired of them. With that thought running through his mind, Marek leaned his head down, brought Tichy's erection to his lips, and took it into his mouth.

Tichy continued to eat his breakfast even as he felt his cock begin to swell and harden inside the boy's mouth. "I know what you can do now when you try hard," the man announced, "so within the next fifteen minutes you'll either get my cum or the cane," he said simply. "There's nothing in between. I won't have you holding back on me and doing a half-assed job, not after last night's effort when you showed me what you are capable of doing," he announced.

Marek recoiled at the man's words almost as if he had been slapped. Tichy would cane him if he didn't finish the blowjob in 15 minutes? Several of Tichy's blowjobs had taken longer than that! Most of them had, in fact. He'd never been given a time limit like this before. And what did Tichy mean about him holding back? Marek remembered back to yesterday's blowjob, the one that Tichy had really liked, the one where Marek had given … extra effort. With a sinking feeling, the boy realized that he had set a new standard for sucking and that Tichy had taken note. Now he would require all his blowjobs to be just as good, but that one had taken a lot of commitment. Full commitment. Full effort.

It was a strange sensation for Tichy to have his cock sucked under the table and not be able to see Marek at work while he concentrated on his rolls, butter, jam, and cocoa. It was a strange but good way to eat breakfast. It was almost as if the Glass King's grandson was a lowly knave and Tichy was a vassal lord – an almighty, rich, and powerful Somebody. It seemed like the Revolution had swapped traditional roles around and reversed things. He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes with Marek Hurta stuffed under a table, unseen and unheard, just sucking away while Tichy ate. This should be interesting. Interesting, pleasurable, and fun – and for Marek, of course, dangerous if he didn't get the job done in time.

Fifteen minutes was not a long time, so Marek didn't waste any of it. He got the man's cock wet quickly with a few preliminary bobs and licks, and then began with his plunges. Gone was his old technique of bob-bob-bob-bob-bob-plunge, which Tichy had liked well enough before. Now it was bob-bob-plunge, bob-bob-plunge. The plunges were much more frequent and deeper, and the tongue work in between was more vigorous. This was what he had done yesterday for the man, and he did it again today with renewed vigor. Fifteen minutes was not enough time at all, and Marek knew that no matter how well he sucked, the man who hated him and liked to hurt him had a very large say as far as when his orgasm would take place. Indeed, Tichy had a very large, potentially controlling say. He easily could hold out on Marek and then take the cane to him, and that reality was not lost on the boy.

Marek tried; he really did. He tried as hard as he could. It really was the best he could do, but the man simply would not cum. It seemed endless to the boy as he desperately bobbed and plunged, licked, tongued, and sucked, but he could not get Tichy to cum. Marek's apprehension grew as he was certain that he had to be at the limit, or even beyond it now.

Oh, it felt good. Tichy really was a fan. He finished his breakfast in record time. It was a simple meal after all and not that large, so after a while, he was just sitting there, elbows resting on the table humming and breathing as he enjoyed the boy's new standard of effort. He was getting close. But there was just one little problem to address with Marek.

"Fifteen minutes is up," Tichy announced at the deadline. He let that hang in the air for a moment to torment the kid before speaking again. "But you tried really hard and deserve a second chance," he added, seemingly with unexpected mercy as he reached down to grip the hair on the top of Marek's head.

When told him that his time was up, Marek felt a hot flash pass across his face like he'd just opened an oven door and stuck his head inside. He had the presence of mind to keep sucking even as Tichy grasped his head. He was a worried boy. The cane remained the most excruciating painful thing Tichy had ever done to him. It was either that or the acid stuff that was in first place on the pain scale. Both were very bad, and Marek didn't even want to think about the comparison.

"Follow my lead and do not resist," the man warned. Without further delay, he used his grip on the boy's hair to direct him, at first bob-bob-plunge, but the bobs were faster and the plunges deeper, and then he changed it to bob-plunge, bob-plunge, and finally, with a sharp tug and leading strongly, to a bob-plunge-plunge, bob-plunge-plunge. The latter was a hard, deep, merciless rhythm that Tichy knew would get him off in little more than a minute or two, but could Marek cope for that long?

Marek tried to nod as a little whimper of fear left his nostrils. Tichy hadn't taken hold of Marek's head like this in weeks and the boy hated the loss of control. Many things could go wrong now, not the least of which was the possibility that he would gag. There was also throat and jaw pain to worry about, and the likelihood that breathing was about to become a major issue. It was no wonder that the 12-year-old's entire body was tense; the little noises coming from his nostrils signaled a high degree of anxiety and stress.

It wasn't too bad at first. At least Tichy wasn't going too deep. But the pace started to go faster, and the plunges became more frequent. Much more frequent. Marek's breathing became intermittent just as he had known it would, and for a moment his hands came forward as if to push the man away, until Marek realized what a terrible, terrible mistake that would be. Channeling Tomáš, he put them behind his back, interlaced his fingers, and tried to get through this without angering the man.

As blowjobs went, this was a hard one. With Tichy in control, it was very, very hard. Marek wasn't familiar with the term "mouthfuck," but had he been, this certainly would have met the definition. By the end of it the boy was almost dizzy, as Tichy controlled his head, raising and lowering it at will. The only thing Marek could even try to do was open the entrance to his throat on each downward thrust so that Tichy's cockhead could enter it more easily, which it did, only to withdraw again before yet another painful downward plunge.

Tichy was impressed. Marek kept his hands out of the way even as he struggled to breathe and gagged, and he didn't apply any significant amount of force to push back against Tichy's grip as the man impaled the boy on his cock again and again and again. Cutting the boy some slack like this felt okay, especially first thing in the morning, but he was unwilling to overdo it and undermine the sense of firm discipline he had going on with Marek. He could see and feel that this was hard for the boy – hard and soon also messy, since there was no time for swallowing drool or wiping it or controlling it in any way. By the end of those two plunge-plunge-bob-paced minutes, Tichy could feel strings of snot and drool dripping into his crotch from the mouth and nose of a very unhappy young boy. But Marek somehow endured, and Tichy came with a grunt as the pleasure spiked, then gave a contented sigh as it subsided. He pushed Marek off for a moment, then pulled the boy's beleaguered face back to his groin for a quick cock clean-up.

By the end of it, Marek was a mess. His eyes had watered with gagging tears, his mouth and chin were soaked with drool, and his nose was wet with snot. When Tichy finally came in his mouth and throat, the 12-year-old gagged and spluttered as he struggled to swallow it down, his fingers and toes clenching with the need to breathe. When Tichy pushed him off, Marek collapsed to his hands and knees, panting, and gasping for air. He looked like he had just finished a 1500-meter run at a full sprint and had collapsed at the finish line – and that coming on the heels of the marathon on gravel that he had completed not even 30 minutes before while dangling from the hook in the bedroom ceiling.

After a quick cleaning, Tichy pushed Marek off his cock again, slid the chair back, and helped the boy crawl out of the confined space under the kitchen table. He graciously even helped the kid up to sit on a chair without hurting his feet too much.

"Well done. Show me your feet," he demanded casually and then studied the welted, mottled mess he had turned the boy's soles into.

"I see," Tichy said. "That explains why you couldn't hold onto those panties while balancing on your tiptoes I guess," he shrugged. "Well, hopefully it's not all for nothing and you really did learn your lesson about trying to run away. You can't say that I didn't warn you," he added ominously.

"Now eat," Tichy said as he presented Marek with a large breakfast including two rolls, chunks of butter, and a blob of jam. He even made the kid a fresh cup of warm tea, because although he probably still could drink his cocoa, it was cold and had a slimy layer of congealed fat floating on top of it.

"No leftovers. Lick that plate clean, don't even leave crumbs," the man added.

Tichy watched the boy eat for long enough to confirm that Marek seemed hungry and compliant enough to follow instructions. The kid had lost a lot of weight over the past several weeks and it was noticeable on his frame. If he lost any more, he might start to look gaunt, which was not a look Tichy favored, and if he lost more after that, it could start to become a health issue. Tichy needed the boy to be strong and healthy to endure what he had in store for him, and if Marek wouldn't eat on his own, Tichy planned to show him how captured spies were force fed to prevent them from starving themselves to death. He was quite sure that the boy would not enjoy that experience. The kid was either going to eat on his own, or Tichy was going to hurt him until he did. It was that simple.

But for once Marek was hungry, and he ate his breakfast eagerly under the man's watchful gaze. It felt weird to sit at Tichy's table stark naked, but the boy had a premonition that he would not be wearing much in the way of clothing during his stay with the man, if he wore any at all.

"You have roughly an hour on your own," said Tichy when the kid had finished most of his breakfast. "Don't go rummaging through any drawers or closets while I'm gone. When you're done eating, I strongly suggest you do some more studying and revising – we'll talk about that later," he added ominously. And with that, he dressed in his sweatpants and donned an old jacket and some beat-up running shoes that were all cracked and grey from getting wet so many times. Then he simply left the apartment, locking Marek in with a twist of his key

Marek watched as Tichy dressed. He had seen the man in the same outfit jogging before, and it dawned on the boy that Tichy was planning to depart and leave Marek alone in the apartment. That was a first, and it was unexpected. Did Tichy really trust him that much? It appeared that he did.

The man left, and suddenly Marek was alone. The feeling was almost surreal. Tichy's apartment was like the headquarters of an enemy army to Marek, but now the enemy had simply gotten up and left, leaving the boy to his own devices. What should he do? His first thought was to ransack the apartment looking for those incriminating photos, but he knew that would never do. Even if he found them, what then? Could he rip them into tiny pieces and throw them in Tichy's trash without the man knowing? Could he flush them down the toilet? Both ideas were ridiculous of course. Tichy would skin him alive if he did something like that. He might even kill him. That idea was a non-starter.

Still, Marek considered looking for the photos so he at least would know where they were. There was, however, the not-so-small problem of his feet. Marek lifted them gently onto his knees one at a time to survey the damage. The sight that confronted him was not pretty. The soles of both feet remained puffy, raw, swollen, and lined with stripes wherever the cane had struck. They also were discolored with bruises from the dark blood that had pooled deep beneath the skin. No wonder he couldn't put any weight on them. Their condition certainly was not conducive to him ransacking Tichy's apartment looking for things.

Mustering his courage, Marek put his feet down flat on the floor and tried to stand up. Clutching the table for support, he managed to put his entire weight on them momentarily. His mouth was open in concentration and effort as the nerves sent pain signals straight to his brain. "Ooooh," he said aloud as he tried to accustom himself to it. Standing was one thing, but there was no way that the arches of his feet and the muscles and tendons down there were going to allow him to walk. Not a chance. And that pretty much ended the possibility of ransacking anything in Tichy's apartment, not to mention that the man had specifically told him not to and would cane the life out of him if he found out that he had.

Tichy also wanted him to study and had left him with an ominous promise to talk about "that" later. "That" could only mean his school performance this term, which Marek knew had not been good. He dreaded the assignment of his grades. He had not expected to be back for the second term, and he had slacked off the last three weeks when he should have been studying. Tichy had warned him about that. He didn't have any of his final grades, and wouldn't until the beginning of the next term, but Tichy could simply ask the other teachers for his marks. Had he? Would he? It wasn't going to be good if he did. Marek was exceedingly hopeful that he could push the entire issue of his grades into the second term. Being forced to deal with it now when he was completely at Tichy's mercy would be a nightmare.

Still, being alone in the man's apartment and not doing anything seemed like a squandered opportunity. Marek tried to walk to the counter, but after one small step with his right foot, he thought better of it and sat back down in the kitchen chair. What should he do? Tichy had said he had an hour to himself. What could he do in that time? A thought occurred to him, and not even entirely whimsically: He could kill himself. It wasn't even a new thought but something that he had been considering for a while now with varying degrees of seriousness. The thought had returned time and again with increasing intensity over the last several weeks, and over that time, it had become a viable consideration as a backup plan to running away. Running away, of course, had proven an abject failure and now was off the table.

It was one thing to try to deal with Tichy when Marek thought he was going home, but the boy no longer had that to look forward to. He also had no home to go to. His mother was institutionalized, and his aunt and uncle didn't want him. Marek wasn't sure that that was likely to change, either. Even if he did get to go home someday, Tichy could force him to return to the school with the photographs that sat in envelopes just waiting to be mailed. That meant that even if he somehow managed to survive the next two weeks with Tichy, he still had years of torment ahead of him at the man's hands. It was a bleak future no matter how you sliced it, and it just didn't seem worth it to the 12-year-old anymore. It didn't add up to a future that Marek wanted to live out.

Marek took a moment to ponder the logistics of his backup plan. The kitchen had knives like any other. He could stab himself or slit his wrists. If he succeeded in killing himself, Tichy might have a lot of explaining to do – but probably not, as he'd just dispose of Marek's body and claim that the boy had run away again. Everyone already knew that Marek had tried to do that once before. And then there was the problem of pain. Marek wasn't a fan of pain and stabbing or cutting himself seemed like it would hurt a lot. Maybe instead of killing himself he could take a knife and hide it from Tichy, just in case. But just in case of what? What was he going to do with it? And what if Tichy noticed it was missing? Marek knew that there would be absolute hell to pay then. Absolute, unmitigated hell. No, hiding a knife somewhere in the apartment for some unknown purpose was not a viable plan. He certainly wasn't going to stab Tichy with it. The man would disarm him and torture him to death like an American spy caught by the KGB.

Even with the knife idea completely off the table, the boy's thoughts returned to suicide. He had considered it seriously once before after the blanket beating. That had been his lowest point in the term so far, not only because it seemed to confirm in no uncertain terms that every boy in the school hated him, but also because it meant that he could not possibly make it to the break on his own without being beaten to an absolute pulp. Desperate, despairing, and in terrible pain from the beating he had received, Marek had considered throwing himself from the third-floor stairwell of the administration building, but he hadn't been sure that the fall would kill him even if he mustered the courage to do it and managed to fall face-first. He was worried that he would end up in a broken heap at the bottom of the staircase, writhing in pain from multiple fractured limbs, but still very much alive.

In the end, he had wimped out like he always did, literally crawling back to Tichy and begging for the man's help against the boys who were ganging up on him. In the hope of getting to the break in one piece, he had traded sex and his pride to Tichy for protection from the other boys until the holidays, but the holiday break he had prayed for never came for Marek. He couldn't go home. He wasn't going home. He was trapped here with Tichy. It had all been for nothing.

As bad as the blanket beating had been, things seemed even worse now. Tichy had him in his clutches, and Marek knew that the man planned to punish him mercilessly for the next two weeks out of view of the other boys and teachers. Marek no longer just had to visit Tichy; now he had to live with him. He even had to sleep with him in the same bed, although admittedly so far at least that hadn't been so bad. For the next two weeks, Marek would be with Tichy full time, being punished the entire break, always within striking distance of the man, always available to be hurt.

Stabbing himself would be nasty and painful, but there were other ways to do it. Marek knew that if he could find a way to reach the ceiling hook, he could hang himself with a rope. That might be the easiest way, but he wasn't sure he had enough time to set things up and hang himself to death before Tichy returned, especially given the condition of his feet. He could check under the kitchen and bathroom sinks for cleaners and other things that might be poisonous, but even if he found something, and even if he could muster the courage to ingest it and keep it down, it could take a while to take effect and might only make him ill and not be fatal. Additionally, he would have to do those things on feet that hurt too much to walk. However he added it up, killing himself just didn't seem like the right solution, at least not right now.

In the end, Marek decided to channel Tomáš once more and do exactly what Tichy strongly had advised him to do. He lowered himself from the chair to the floor and crawled to his book bag. The first book he pulled out was his Russian language text. He hadn't done well in that class, either. Seated cross-legged on the floor, he opened it and pretended to study, but he found it difficult without a pending assignment or an upcoming test. He also didn't like Russian very much, and his mind was on other things. As he leafed through the pages, trying to find some vocabulary to go over, he couldn't help but be reminded of Tichy's last comment to him. "We'll talk about that later," the man had said about his grades. Marek was pretty sure that talking wasn't the only thing that they would be doing, and the thought filled him with dread all over again.

Tichy came back in roughly an hour, totally soaked both inside and out. Immediately after leaving the apartment, he had made a quick sweep of the boys' dorms to make sure they weren't in complete chaos, and then gone for his semi-usual morning jog. The outside of his outfit was wet from melted snow and the inside was wet from his body heat and resulting sweat. He tossed everything but his sneakers into the small washing machine and was about to dive into the shower, but before he did, he paused to look at Marek, who was sitting cross-legged and naked on the floor with the Russian textbook on his lap.

"как дела?" [How are you?] the man asked without a trace of accent. "что ты делал в течение последнего часа, молодой человек?" [What have you been doing for the last hour, young man?]. Tichy wasn't great with Russian writing and grammar, but he spoke the language fluently, as was expected of a communist party member at the time.

Marek stared up at Tichy dumbly as the man spoke Russian to him. The boy wasn't good with the language. He didn't like Russian, but right now he wished he understood and spoke it a lot better than he did.

Tichy ignored the kid's deer-in-the-headlights look. He walked to his dresser, retrieved a tan index card, and handed to Marek. "Here is your interim report card," Tichy said without waiting for Marek to answer the question he had posed in Russian. "None of these are final, since most of January still falls into the first semester," reminded Tichy, "but … " he said as his voice trailed off ominously.

Marek took the card with trepidation. Unhappily, he glanced down at the bad news: History-5, Science-4, Math-3, Russian-4, Czech-2, Music and Art-2, P.E.-1, Citizen's Education-5. His body language communicated his dread as he slumped in defeat.

Marek stared up with wide-eyed anxiety at the sweaty, naked man. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tichy," Marek said contritely from his position on the floor, but he already knew that he was fucked. Absolutely fucked.

"Now you already know what I'm going to do to you for any fours and fives, Marek," said Tichy grimly. "You'll get the cane and the sack. But your grades are not final yet, and I've applied for mitigating circumstances for you because you're still adjusting to the internat, and your mother has been ill. When classes resume, you'll re-take the big tests in all the subjects you're failing or almost failing, and Drabek told me that he will give you another chance at your oral test in history," he explained.

Marek's blood ran cold as Tichy spoke about his grades. He well remembered what the man had said would happen if he brought in any grades below a three, but he had been hoping and praying that Tichy himself had forgotten, or was merely threatening, or would relent – even as he knew that those were not things that Tichy usually did. Marek had not expected to be back to finish the term, and his grades hadn't mattered to him before. He had been sure he was going home for good, but now all this had happened to him. It was like an ongoing, living nightmare, and Tichy had just confirmed he was going to cane him and use his claustrophobia to torture him for every bad grade, just as he had promised to do.

When Tichy told him what he had done on his behalf, the boy felt a glimmer of hope. He was surprised to hear that he would be allowed to re-take some of his tests, one of which he hadn't studied for. That would give him a chance. It was a chance that the boy welcomed with open arms.

"Thank you, sir," Marek said sincerely. He truly was grateful, but while it may have appeared to the boy that Tichy was being merciful, Marek was too young and naïve to grasp that failing out of the school was probably the surest way for him to escape the man's clutches, no matter what horrible things Tichy did to him in the interim. The man could not allow that to happen, which probably explained the emphasis he had placed on the boy's grades.

"You're welcome," said the man, "but just remember there's no guarantee of success; I've just arranged another chance for you, but you still have to put the hard work in," he warned. "And my original list of things that'll be done to you as a punishment for poor grades will be expanded if you waste this extra opportunity to improve," he added darkly.

"If you thought I was just setting you up to fail, you were wrong," added the man. "You're in enough trouble already, so I'm not going to lay a finger on you about your current grades. I'll also give you time to study for your tests in January and your finals. But you'll have no worse grade than a 3 anywhere on your final report, or I'll make you wish you were dead," he warned the boy. "You don't want to test me on that, Marek. Do not test me. You have over a month to work on bringing your grades up, and I'll be giving you daily slots to study, so there is no excuse for you not doing well. Understood?"

Marek nodded along as he looked up at the man. Tichy was physically intimidating to the boy even under the best of circumstances, but looming over him like this, with Marek at his feet, he looked like a naked giant. Why or how Marek had ever thought he could oppose or defy the man was beyond his comprehension now. There was no opposing Tichy. Not when the man was this big and strong, and not when he had the army at his disposal and Mr. Skala in his back pocket.

"Yes, sir," said Marek, as he promised himself to study until his eyes fell out of their sockets. Tichy most certainly had not forgotten about the punishments, and he was not relenting about administering them, either.

"Now, I want a wimp-bath," Tichy said with a smile as he pulled up a chair and sat down. You're going to lick me clean – well, at least some parts," he chuckled, "and you're going to do it with a boner. So, first, get that cock stiff, but you're not allowed to touch it," said Tichy with a smile. "You know alternative means now. Or do it just as a mental exercise if you prefer. But no hands – they are not allowed to touch that sissy cock. Get yourself a boner, and then be ready to follow instructions and lick," commanded the man authoritatively.

A wimp bath? What did he- Oh, no. Oh, no, oh, no, oh no. Marek's face turned pale. Tichy was gruesomely sweaty. He was disgusting. But Marek didn't have long to dwell on that thought, as he had another issue to deal with. The man wanted him to do it with a boner. What alternative means did he mean? Marek was at a loss, and he was about as far from being aroused as it was possible to be.

He racked his brain. What did the man mean? How was he going to get hard without touching it? What alternative methods? He got hard when Tichy fucked him. He got hard when he needed to pee. But neither of those things were happening right now.

"Mr. Tichy, I'm- … I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he said, still from his cross-legged position on the floor. He was decidedly not hard, and with no prospects of becoming hard anytime soon.

"Really?" Tichy sounded skeptical rather than angry. "Stand up. Face away, hands on knees, stick your butt out," he demanded, while picking up the tube of cream from the desk and quickly putting some on his index and middle finger.

Marek didn't know what the man meant. Maybe his brain was frozen. His eyes were wide. What was he forgetting? He turned from his seated position to his hands and knees, then reached to brace himself against the wall as he painfully, wincingly, hauled himself upright on his beaten feet.

Tichy reached toward the kid's ass and inserted his index finger in the boy's hot hole. Marek gasped as Tichy penetrated him. The man jabbed his index finger in a few times before adding his middle finger, then hooked both down to attack Marek's special spot. The boy winced as the man poked his prostate again, again, and again after that. Tichy gave the kid's spot a few more jabs, then removed his fingers and applied a light smack to Marek's butt, signaling that the kid could turn around.

Just like that, Marek was hard. His deprived cock had responded almost instantly. It seemed like magic. How did Tichy do it? And was it something that Marek could do himself? Tichy seemed to think so. But were Marek's fingers long enough? Could he find the spot with them? And did he really want to stick his fingers up his ass like that?

"Turn around," the man instructed as he looked to see the result while presenting his fingers to Marek's mouth for a quick clean up. The result of his efforts, of course, was rather predictable. Marek's young cock was jutting from his groin

Slowly painfully, taking several little mini steps on his battered feet, Marek turned around. He used his mouth to clean the man's fingers of the cream. As he did so he wondered just how much of the stuff he could ingest before it became poisonous.

"Mr. Tichy, can I ask you something?" the boy asked.

Tichy smiled, seeing Marek's boner. It looked cute. But then Marek spoke, and the man's nostrils flared with a bit of frustration. What did the kid want to know now?!

"Hmmm," Tichy hummed affirmatively but without enthusiasm, "hurry up and ask, then get to licking my armpits," smiled the man as he lifted his left arm in the air. "You can listen to my answer as you lap away. Nice, strong licks, too. You're cleaning after all," he reminded poor Marek.

Marek's face fell. The man wanted him to lick his disgusting, hairy armpits? He had to lick the man's glistening, sweaty armpits? There once was a time when Marek would have said no, but weeks back he had said no to licking something even worse than armpits and Tichy had caned him for it. That caning had been the single worst and most painful punishment that Tichy had inflicted on him to date. He had been unable to sit for days, and the marks had lasted for weeks, but Marek had no doubt that Tichy would cane him again if he refused to comply with a direct order.

"I know you think I'm a wimp and I'm not arguing about that," the boy said tremulously. He knew he already was on thin ice. "But when you're done punishing me for running away and my grades and stuff and you start punishing me because of my grandfather, do I still have to do stuff like this? Like what you want me to do right now, and what we did earlier?" he asked.

Marek looked at the man's glistening armpit and felt his stomach starting to clench with nausea. "And I'm just asking, Mr. Tichy – I'm not arguing – but could I please do something else?"

"To the first question, the answer is yes," the man replied. "Your mouth and ass make me feel good, and that's sort of a fringe benefit for all my hard work punishing you and bringing justice into the world," said Tichy, who didn't even sound like he was bullshitting. In fact, he sounded like he truly believed what he was saying.

"As for your second question … ," Tichy began as he suddenly stood up, grabbed the kid by the back of his neck, and yanked him around to the back of the chair. He made Marek bend over the chair back and grab the seat with one hand on either side, which caused him to stand there with his feet on fire and his butt stuck out. When the boy was properly positioned, Tichy picked up the cane, reached back, and sent it slicing into the kid's buttocks.

THWICK!!! And just like that, there was a new, angry red stripe across Marek's butt. The boy never seemed to learn.

"What's Wimp rule number one?" Tichy demanded angrily.

That had not gone well. Marek did not get the answer he had wanted to either question, and the man's response to the second question was immediate, decisive, and instantly painful. Marek flinched and yelped as the cane bit down. Tears flooded his eyes. He blinked them back with a pain-filled grimace. He was determined not to cry out.

"Obey every command, uhhh, right away, with enthusiasm," Marek recited from memory in a voice that was on the cusp of breaking down in sobs. "I'm sorry," he added. He knew that the pain could get much worse from here if Tichy kept going. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tichy. Please. I'll do it. I said I'd do it!"

THWICK!!! went the cane and another red stripe parallel with the first one appeared on Marek's butt as an answer to his begging.

THWICK!!! The cane struck home a third time on Marek's butt, and this one brought a wail from the unfortunate boy born equally of pain and the knowledge that Tichy wasn't finished punishing him. The burning and stinging caused him to rise on his tip toes, which brought fresh agony to the arches of his feet. He squirmed. He writhed. He wasn't trying to get away so much as he was trying to compensate for the pain.

"Which parts of wimp rule number one did you break?" demanded Tichy angrily as he prepared the cane for another lash. Marek had run out of luck and slack, it seemed. And on top of that, Tichy reached between Marek's legs and ran his finger over the length of his cock.

"You'll get an extra one if you lose that boner before I'm done punishing you," he warned.

The boy squirmed against the chair. More tears came, but silent ones. He didn't want to cry. He just wanted it to end before Tichy lit him up even worse than he already had.

"I- all of them, I- I'm sorry," the boy said, his voice gasping and desperate. "I didn't obey. I didn't obey right away. I wasn't enthusiastic. I'm sorry Mr. Tichy!"

He felt the man's hand on his boner and heard the warning

"I won't!" he promised, although he had no idea how he was going to keep his boner if Tichy kept caning him.

THWICK!! "That's three parts of the rule violated, three strokes with the cane, and one for good measure," Tichy announced.

Marek squealed aloud as the cane bit down yet again. His hips wiggled with the pain. He continued to hold onto the char, but somehow, he had to get Tichy to stop. His butt was on fire. He hated the cane. He feared it and despised it more than anything. He wished he had never asked his questions, and why had he added the second question was beyond him. What had he been thinking? The man taunted him mercilessly when he did disgusting things without objection, but whenever he tried to object, this was the result. It just wasn't fair!

But to Marek's horror, Tichy still wasn't done. He reached back and brought the cane slicing through the air once again. THWICK!! A fifth angry line striped the child's backside. The man was no longer even pretending to link the number of strokes to the parts of the rules Marek had violated.

As the cane marked him yet again, Marek's floodgates opened as the pain became overwhelming. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Mr. Tichy, please! Pleeeeeeease!" Marek sobbed. The boy started to tremble as he realized that his infraction was even worse than he had thought.

"What is wimp rule number three?" Tichy demanded even more sternly. As he paused, he at least helped Marek to keep his erection by reaching down and giving it a squeeze and a bit of a stroke.

"Rule number three – it's I- I h-have to do it even if I don't want to!" the boy whimpered, speaking quickly, his voice distressed and pain-filled. "Even if it's hard or yucky!"

"I'll do it, Mr. Tichyyyyy!" Marek sobbed as he realized how bad he had screwed up. "I want to do it, please! I want to do it now, I really do!" The boy's voice was warbling with pain and desperate.

"You accept and agree to do these things because they are a punishment, and whatever unpleasant effects or side effects they have are meant to be a part of your punishment! Understood?" boomed Tichy in as loud and intimidating a voice as he had ever used with the kid.

Marek flinched as the man's voice thundered in the apartment. Tichy obviously didn't care if anyone heard what was going on behind closed doors, and that scared Marek more than anything.

"Yes! Yes!" Marek whimpered in agreement. He readily agreed. He would agree to anything right now if only Tichy would stop caning him.

"This next thing you do will be disgusting and nasty, and you'll do it because you were a dumb fuck and ran away and had to be dragged back in by the red berets. You'll be grateful for the disgusting punishments because the alternative is that I keep going" THWICK! "Just" THWICK! "Like" THWICK! "This!" THWICK!

Marek sobbed as he listened to the man berate him. He wished he had never opened his mouth. He was tense and trembling in pain. Tichy was relentless, continuing to lecture him, reminding him of his bad behavior and poor decisions. But when the man lit into him with the cane again, Marek exploded into sobs and whimpers as he writhed and squirmed against the chair. The cane torched his butt again and again. It burned and blazed.

Finally, after nine full-on strokes of the cane, Tichy pulled Marek off the chair and sat back in it, still holding the weapon ominously in his hand.

"Tongue lapping at my armpit in three, two, one!" he said as he began to count down.

Suddenly, Marek found himself back on the floor as Tichy immediately started his countdown. Marek's face was red, snotty, and wet with tears as he got to his hands and knees and struggled agonizingly to his feet once again. The soles of his feet were killing him. He was a very unhappy boy, and he didn't quite manage to position himself before the countdown ended.

"Go on!" Tichy commanded, cutting Marek one more little bit of slack after all. "No more whining, resisting, delaying, stalling, or half-assed effort," he warned sternly. "You'll lick where I tell you to lick, and you'll do it well and thoroughly. One armpit, then the other. Then my crotch and balls, my ass, and then you'll do my feet before I fuck you. No more questions. I'll tell you when you're done with a specific area, so you'll know when to move on. This will end with my cock in your ass, or with not much of your ass left when the cane is finally done with it," he warned darkly as he swooshed the implement through the air a few times for emphasis.

Marek ignored the pain in his feet as he leaned down and began to lick broad strokes of his tongue across the man's hairy armpit. The hairs felt gross against his tongue, and it tasted foul and nasty from sweat, but he didn't care. The boy did not want more of the cane. He was operating on a very basic level now. He didn't even need to channel Tomáš for this one. He licked to avoid the cane and its searing, agonizing bite. After nine painful stripes, it was a simple equation that even a distraught boy of 12 could understand.

As he sobbed as he licked, Marek reached behind him with his right hand to squeeze away the pain in his butt cheeks. He could feel the welts there, and he moaned with unhappiness. Today had not been a good day so far with Tichy. It already had been a very bad, painful, unhappy day, and it wasn't even mid-morning, yet. He sobbed again as he licked the man's sweaty armpit, but he didn't hold back. He licked like he wanted to get it clean, found as he did so that it was even worse and more disgusting than licking the man's asshole, which would be up next. It even tasted worse, if that was possible.

After a little while, Tichy nodded. "Other armpit," he commanded, and then, after a few more minutes, he slid down in the chair and spread his legs wide apart. "Crotch and balls," he directed the boy, no doubt pushing Marek's obedience and endurance to the limit. He swooshed the cane in the air a few more times for emphasis. If the boy wanted to test his luck with renewed opposition, Tichy was ready to carve his bottom up until he wouldn't be able to sit for a week. Such were the benefits of having Marek at his disposal for the break.

"Lick my asshole, boy," Tichy instructed. "Now. Outside and in!" he commanded. "Remember rules one and three. These lessons are essential, and I'll beat them into you if I must," he added almost matter-of-factly.

Marek was a very miserable, very unhappy boy. His feet throbbed, and his bottom was stinging and flaring with pain. Tichy was killing him with the cane, and he showed no signs of stopping, nor did he have any reason to. He had Marek in his clutches full time for the next two weeks. He had promised to punish the boy severely for running away and he was carrying out that threat. At this rate, Marek didn't see how he could survive it. He would die of pain and fear. If he didn't die outright, he would lose his mind from the stress.

He had tried to channel Tomáš and be good, but nothing was going right today, nothing at all. Tichy was in a mood – perhaps for once he had some reason, given Marek's grades – but the boy had exacerbated the situation by objecting to licking the man's sweaty armpits. The boy understood all that, but why, why, why did Tichy have to be this cruel? It was cruelty beyond imagination. He could say he didn't hate the boy all he wanted, but Tichy made Marek do things that were inhumane. A dog wouldn't be treated this way. Here he was, in pain all over, licking the sweat from the man's clammy body, all because Tichy hated him and his grandfather, and his father, and his entire lineage back to the age of fucking Charlemagne.

But Marek did it. Trembling, hurting, and sobbing, he licked and tongued Tichy's sweaty body everywhere the man commanded, everywhere the man directed, and everywhere he wanted him to lick. Tichy was in a mood, and the cane was in his hand. That was all the motivation Marek needed. He licked the man's sweaty, disgusting asshole without so much as a whimper of complaint. As an added joy, Marek could smell the man's ripe pit sweat on his face as he knelt and leaned in between Tichy's ass cheeks to lick and clean the man's sweaty, hairy anus.

This was no life. Marek was getting desperate. The man had him trapped here. Tichy owned him like a pet. He couldn't escape. He couldn't get away. He couldn't run, evade, or hide. Yet the knives were in the kitchen. A flash of pain might be all it would take. Killing himself might even be less painful than a single caning. Marek wasn't there, yet. Not quite. But he was out of options, and he was running out of hope. Who cared about the photos if he were dead? This was all his mother's fault, anyway. She had sent him here. She had abandoned him to Tichy. Who cared what she saw in the photos? It would serve her right to see them. Marek almost didn't care if she did.

But for now, he licked at Tichy's hairy, sweaty, humid hole. The cane was right there to provide the necessary incentive. It never left Tichy's hands. It was right fucking there, ready to be used again in seconds should the need arise.

Tichy relaxed into the boy's unhappy tongue bath. It felt good. He enjoyed the physical sensation of course, but it was even more pleasant knowing that it was being coerced from a handsome, young boy who just happened to be the grandson of the legendary Glass King, the infamous robber baron who was the bane and shame of the Liberec region. In his mind, by humiliating Marek this extra filthy notch more, Tichy was doing his part to avenge his parents and everyone else who had been forced to suffer at the hands of Marek's infamous ancestor. If only the old man could see his grandson now!

Tichy held his ass out long enough for a proper wimp licking and cleaning, even lifting and pulling his legs back to help the boy gain deeper penetration with his tongue. When he had had enough of that, he sat back up in the chair and stretched his legs out. Gazing down at the boy, he could tell that Marek was at the absolute end of his rope. Tichy knew young boys, and there was something in the sobbing, teary-eyed youngster's expression and carriage that made it look like he was about to give up.

"Feet," Tichy commanded simply, "especially between the toes. You're almost there, Marek," he reassured the sobbing boy. "Just remember, you are being punished," he emphasized. "Two nights already, and you still haven't experienced the sack. All things considered, given how furious I was with you for running away and how much I believe you need to be punished, you're doing better than you deserve, little man."

Fearing the cane, Marek obediently moved to the man's feet, but he remained very unhappy and distraught. The road ahead seemed endless. It wasn't measured in days, but weeks and months, even years. How would he ever escape Tichy? It didn't seem possible that the man could have caged him in plain sight like a zoo animal, yet he had. It didn't seem possible that he could have this much power over another person, yet he did. It didn't seem possible that in this modern day and age, a man could take a boy as his slave, yet that's what Marek was. All these things were happening to Marek, almost in plain view of everyone at the school, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. It didn't seem possible, but it was true.

Tichy reminded him he was being punished, but the problem was, he always was being punished. Right now, it was for running away. But if it wasn't for that, it would be for his grades, and if not for that, it would be for something else. And then when he was done being punished for his own transgressions, he would be punished for his grandfather's, and then for his father's, and then probably for his Uncle Richard's, and anybody else's that Tichy decided. Tichy's words seemed almost kind, but Marek wasn't fooled. His punishments weren't fair, and they never would be. They were contrived, painful, and seemingly endless.

He almost said something to that effect. Almost, but he caught himself. The last time he had gotten into a verbal war with Tichy the man had beaten him with his belt literally for every word Marek had spoken, but he desperately wanted Tichy to know that he knew – that he had figured out Tichy's game. Marek knew that no matter what he did, the man would find a reason to give him more punishments. Tichy would give him endless, inhumane punishments until he was driven over the edge and lost his mind.

His eyes welled with tears as he licked between the man's toes. Marek was feeling very sorry for himself. Despairingly so. Nothing mattered anymore. His life was shit, and the next two weeks with Tichy were going to be utterly unendurable. Fuck it. He lifted his head and mouth from the man's foot, his expression contorted in misery and self-pity.

"You're always punishing me," he sobbed, before he immediately went back to the task at hand, instantly regretting what he had just said and trying not to make it even worse than he already had.

Tichy rolled his eyes for a moment before he pushed the kid away with his foot. Apparently, Marek had a death wish, and if he kept it up, the man was going to have to think seriously about accommodating him. One thing was certain right now though – Marek "Glass King" Hurta was not going to mouth off to Stanislav Tichy in the man's own apartment. Not when the kid already had more punishments stacked up than it was remotely reasonable for a 12-year-old boy to incur. Nope. Not happening.

Tichy rose to his feet like a vengeful god before the cowering youngster. It took only a single downward gaze at the boy for Tichy to realize that Marek understood, fully and precisely, how bad he had just fucked up. Marek's eyes were wide with fear and his hands were clasped together against his chin as he looked up at Tichy from the floor. He almost seemed to be praying, and maybe he was, but even that wasn't going to help him now.

"I'm sorry," the boy gasped as Tichy reached down and grabbed a big clump of the kid's hair. Lifting Marek off the ground by his scalp, Tichy dragged the boy to the bed and threw him down on it, face first.

"You're not sorry," the man replied in an even voice, "but you will be. What you don't seem to understand, Marek, is that we can keep doing this, again and again, over and over, as many times as you want and as many times as it takes before the message finally sinks in."

Leaving the boy where he was, Tichy walked the short distance to Marek's trunk, lifted it by its handles, and brought it to the side of the bed. The trunk had not yet been unpacked and remained full of the kid's clothing and possessions.

"Lie flat on your stomach," he commanded. "Arms at your sides." When the sobbing boy complied, Tichy lifted the trunk over the youngster's prone body and dropped it lengthwise on his back, shoulders, and head hard enough to hurt. "If this falls off your body for any reason, your punishment will be doubled. Don't move. If you move and it falls from where it is right now, you'll be picking up little pieces of your skin from the floor when I'm done caning you, which might not be until tomorrow morning at the rate you're going, Marek. Are you listening to me?" he boomed. "Do you understand?"

Marek moaned in fear as the trunk slammed down on him hard enough to bruise. He winced but remained still; he didn't dare to move. The trunk remained balanced on his head and shoulders, weighing him down and blocking his view of Tichy. It wasn't heavy or big enough to cause a claustrophobic reaction in the boy, but it wasn't that far from it, either. The man's words terrified him. Marek knew that he had failed to follow Tomáš's advice and once again had made things worse for himself by speaking out of turn. It seemed that his bottom once again would be made to pay the wages earned by his big, fat mouth.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tichy," he sobbed from under the trunk. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I won't say it again. I won't defy you again. I- I- … " the boy started to say as he moaned in despair. His thoughts turned dark before he simply exploded anew with fresh, anguished tears.

"I want to die, Mr. Tichy," Marek wept. "I can't do this anymore. I can't do anything right. I'm sorry. I just want to die. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so scared, Mr. Tichy. I'm scared all the time. I tried. I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to live anymore," he sobbed. "I don't want to live anymore!"

"Not an option," declared Tichy as he used the same length of rope that he earlier had used to secure Marek to the hook to bind the boy's ankles together. He tied the other end of the rope to the base of the footboard. He picked up the cane and approached the left side of the bed where Marek was buried face down under the trunk.

"You're 12 years old, Marek," he said to the sobbing, inconsolable boy. "Boys your age often make mistakes. I realize that things can look very bleak sometimes, but I'm not going to kill you, so you can forget about that. You have your entire life ahead of you, and someday you'll look back at your time here at the school and be thankful that someone – namely I – took the time to help you work through your unfortunate past and prepare you for your future as a productive, socialist citizen – all well before you reached adulthood, too. You may not believe it now, but someday you will thank me for helping you."

"Nor are you going to kill yourself," continued Tichy almost without pause, "and I'll give you two very important reasons why not, should the thought of taking your own life ever so much as cross your mind. First, there's the matter of the envelopes you've seen, which I will send to your friends and family. If you ever did succeed in killing yourself, your legacy will be as sordid and tarnished as that of your forebears, and I will make sure that everyone who ever knew or met you knows all about what you did here during your time at the school."

"But I realize that you may not care all that much about your reputation if you're already dead, so let me tell you the second and more important reason why you will not kill yourself. If you ever seriously try to kill yourself – such as by taking poison, trying to drown yourself, throwing yourself in front of a bus, hanging yourself, or any of a dozen other ways that may have crossed your mind – you had better be sure that you succeed, Marek. Because if you don't, and I find out about it, I will personally take it upon myself to finish the job for you in the most horrific, sadistic, and painful manner that you can possibly imagine."

"I will take you to a cabin in the hills where I will spend as long as it takes to wring every last painful gasp and sob from your tortured body until you finally exhale your last, agonized breath," said the man. "Long before that happens, you will have wished you were never born. You will die in complete agony because if you are not willing to put the time and effort into atoning for the sins of your father and grandfather my way, I will make sure that you atone for them in quite a different, and much more immediate and painful way. Make no mistake that things could be much worse for you than they are, Marek. Much, much worse. Do not tempt me to demonstrate to you how much worse they can get, because I can be a very vengeful man. You already know how I feel about your grandfather."

"And before we proceed with your latest and very-much-deserved punishment, let me leave you with one other thought," Tichy continued. "Killing yourself is not easy; in fact, it is quite hard. It is the nature of human beings to fight for life, to hold on, to persevere, and to overcome adversity. Did you know that most people who try to commit suicide fail? That's a proven fact, Marek. Most fail, and some fail more than once. Some fail several times. Dying is hard. Killing yourself is a difficult thing, and you have not proven yourself to be very skilled at planning or accomplishing difficult tasks. I would cite your two failed attempts to run away from me as examples, but we both know that there are many more that I could choose."

"You will not die," said the man. "I will not kill you, and you will not kill yourself. If you follow my rules and apply yourself to the tasks and challenges that I give to you, you will find soon enough that your life is well worth living. Until then, you will be punished when you mess up, which unfortunately seems to be all too frequent based on your performance these past few days," Tichy added in a voice that almost seemed tinged with sadness.

"Here," he said as he passed one of his soggy sneakers to the boy under the trunk, jamming it sight unseen in his face. "Put that in your mouth and bite down on it. It'll help with the pain."

Still sobbing uncontrollably, Marek used his left hand to direct the toe of man's disgusting, sodden sneaker into his mouth and bit down on it. The boy felt numb and resigned to his fate. Tichy was right, of course: There was no way out for him, and there was no easy solution to his problems. Tichy wasn't going to kill him, and Marek already knew that he was too much of a wimp to commit suicide. The boy had been worried about failing at suicide even before the man threatened to torture him to death if he tried. Part of Marek wanted to get the last laugh on his tormentor by succeeding at killing himself, but the wiser part of him knew he never would go through with it. He would never even try. The stakes simply were too high for him to risk it.

Tichy placed the cane on Marek's ass and tapped it there a few times as if he were taking aim. He wondered if the boy would be able to remain in position for another caning. Only Marek's legs were restrained after all; his arms and upper body were free to move about, encumbered only by the trunk that weighed heavily on the kid's head and shoulders.

Marek tensed at the touch of the cane and clenched his butt cheeks together. A moan escaped his lips as he prepared for the cane yet again. Of course, it wasn't possible to "prepare" for the cane. The cane blazed its own trail whether he prepared for it or not. Marek prepared instead to endure the cane and survive it. He desperately needed to avoid making his punishment any worse, and that meant keeping the trunk balanced right where it was.

Tichy lifted the cane from the youngster's backside and swooshed it though the air a few times, watching Marek's butt cheeks clench and twitch each time he did so. The kid knew that the cane could slice down at any time, and he obviously was trying to anticipate the blow. Tichy couldn't help but lift the cane up a foot or so and let it drop on the boy's butt cheeks with no force behind it. Marek nearly jumped out of his skin when he did that. Another moan escaped the boy's lips as he tried to figure out what was going on, but it appeared that Tichy was taunting him. He was toying with him and teasing him.

Had the circumstances been different, Tichy would have caned the boy for his behavior from a few minutes ago, but the man could tell that Marek was at the end of his endurance. Caning him now risked the kid having a breakdown that would render him useless for much of the break and perhaps beyond it. Tichy wanted a boy who was fully aware and actively participating in his punishments, not a drooling, trembling, catatonic basket case with haunted, vacant eyes. At a minimum, Skala would ask uncomfortable questions if Tichy drove the boy completely over the edge, and the disciplinarian didn't need that kind of scrutiny. Besides, showing the kid some mercy and sparing him from the cane might just pay dividends in other ways.

Suddenly, Marek felt the trunk being lifted from his body and he watched with trepidation as Tichy placed it back on the floor. The boy blinked in surprise as he pulled the disgusting sneaker from his mouth and tried to figure out what was going on.

"The kind of whining you just did a few minutes ago falls squarely under rule six," announced Tichy dryly, "and this is the last time you're not getting the cane for such a comment." He reached down to untie the knot that he had used to secure Marek's legs, then untied the boy's feet. "I don't need you whining about your punishments or telling me what I'm always doing to you. You already know full well that you deserve every punishment that I choose to dole out to you for running away, so you'll keep your mouth shut about it if you know what's good for you."

"On the edge of the bed, on all fours, knees on the edge, face low, ass up," he commanded simply, as he began to put some of the familiar cream on his cock.

Marek almost couldn't believe that Tichy had granted him a reprieve for his cheeky remark, and he counted himself very fortunate that the man hadn't taken the cane to him yet again. Still, despite the mercy being shown to him, he still was feeling very, very sorry for himself. All this was happening on a shitty day, that was part of a shitty week, that was topping off a shitty month, in what had become the shittiest and most miserable period of his entire life.

Marek knew that channeling Tomáš could only take him so far. Being obedient could only last so long. He knew he shouldn't have challenged the man like that, but he couldn't help it. He felt a little like a daredevil who just couldn't stop taking the next risk until he went one jump too far and killed himself in the effort. But he was so tired of Tichy. He was tired of being with the man. He was tired of doing what the man told him to do. He was tired, tired, tired, but his job right now was to get his ass up in the air so Tichy could fuck him.

Still very unhappy, but trying not to flash a sullen, punishment-worthy look at Tichy after the man had spared him another caning, Marek crawled to the edge of the bed and assumed the position that Tichy commanded, ass up and head low. He closed his eyes, hoping to transport himself somewhere else in his mind.

"Reach back," demanded Tichy. "Spread. Tell me what's about to happen. Remember what you begged for last time this happened?" added Tichy a bit sourly. He was still annoyed at the insolent 'you're always punishing me' comment even as he moved to stand behind the boy on the bed and rubbed the tip of his cock over Marek's pucker and taint.

Marek tried to steel himself as Tichy issued more instructions. The boy reached back and spread his cheeks. Before he replied, he willed himself – forced himself – to use a neutral tone of voice, because he felt like spitting the words.

"You're going to fuck me in the ass," he said, spitting the words in his mind, but saying them in a non-confrontational way through his mouth. He well remembered how he had, in fact, debased himself the last time. He had become a poof for Tichy, just like the man undoubtedly wanted him to be again. It had not been his finest moment as a boy.

"I begged you to let me cum," he said miserably.

"Well, don't go forgetting that," said Tichy sternly. "Don't go forgetting that," he repeated as he slowly fed the tip of his well-lubed cock into Marek's ass. No fingers anymore. Marek was a pro anal receiver now, and his hole was used to it. It was pre-stretched, and Tichy could go slowly and still not cause much pain even if he didn't prepare the boy ahead of time.

The man stood tall and did his first slight thrust downwards to reawaken that sensation in Marek, but when he proceeded to fuck him, he did it along the horizontal axis; deeply, not too fast, not too painfully, and with some stimulation to the boy due to his sheer size, but without focusing on giving the kid's prostate a good poking. Marek was at no risk of cumming from this kind of a fuck, even if it was enough to keep him continuously erect throughout.

Tichy worked himself steadily deeper, not too brutally, but gradually he bottomed out inside the boy, letting the kid feel the full intensity of being fucked to the hilt, balls deep. Just to make Marek more aware of his own erection, he reached down and gave it a few light strokes, teasingly jerking it before abandoning it and leaving it unsatisfied once again.

Whether it was more homo or not, Marek preferred being fucked by Tichy to giving the man blowjobs. It was just easier, especially when Tichy decided to control the blowjob with his hands on the boy's head as he had earlier. Marek hated those. He could tolerate giving a blowjob when Tichy let him do it and didn't hold out on him, but now Tichy was becoming more demanding and wanted the A+ blowjob every time. Marek wished he had never given Tichy the nice one that he had liked so much. The man had even put a time limit on the last one – suck well and quickly or be caned for it. For those reasons, Marek preferred to just lie back or kneel and take it up the ass. He couldn't get in trouble doing that. Tichy couldn't get mad at him doing that. He couldn't earn a punishment doing that. If it made him a homosexual, so be it. Marek didn't fucking care anymore. He was so far below and beyond being a poof, what did it matter? He doubted most poofs ate shit, but he had done that, too.

And then there was the other advantage to being fucked, which was that pleasant feeling he got from his inner penis or whatever that spot inside him was. He liked that. It felt good. Tichy was hitting it with glancing blows now and it felt tingly and nice. Not as good as before, but nice. The best one of all had been on the floor in Tichy's office that one time. Marek wondered if that single experience had made him a poof. He had cum hard. It had seemed like gallons at the time even if to his surprise when he had licked it up later, it wasn't much more than his normal, smallish load.

Head down, face to the mattress, Marek rocked back and forth as Tichy fucked him. This would be the man's second orgasm of the day. Based on the new wimp rules, there would be one to go after that. The boy gasped as Tichy fondled his cock. It was mostly erect and needy as always, but he had blown the chance of cumming today when the panties fell, so there was no real reason to get all worked up or hopeful about it. Nor did Marek want to give the man the satisfaction. Let Tichy fuck him and cum. What Marek most wanted to do was take a nap. It already had been a long, tiring day.

Tichy took full advantage of the fact that Marek could take a harder dicking and proceeded to fuck the kid quite vigorously. Not brutally, not with sharp, punishing, sudden thrusts, but with real power behind each thrust and at a solid pace. It felt nice and good, and soon his breath was ragged. He already was well worked up from the wimp bath the kid had given him, and this felt nice, as fucking a young boy's tight little ass usually did. Marek's rectum felt hot and intense around his cock, especially since he didn't have to be too careful or hold back.

For the boy, it was one of the roughest fucks to date. Marek's head rolled up and down on the mattress as Tichy humped him for what seemed like an eternity. But Marek's ass was well broken in by now, and the cream was doing its job. It really didn't hurt. It just felt full, maybe slightly uncomfortable in a too-full kind of way, but there really wasn't any significant pain involved. There was even some pleasure and Marek remained hard throughout, but he knew Tichy wouldn't allow him to cum, so he really didn't think about that too much.

This was the part where Tichy did all the work and Marek couldn't get in trouble. Tichy could fuck away for as long as he wanted. Yes, toward the end, Marek's anal ring started to burn as the man's cock rubbed it a bit raw, but Marek doubted it would even bleed. He closed his eyes. He could endure this for a long time if that's what Tichy wanted him to do.

After the blowjob from earlier, even the steady pace and force didn't get Tichy off too quickly. He came only after some twenty minutes of hard humping, doing his usual grunting and sighing thing as he ejaculated into the boy's rectum. When he pulled out a few moments later, his cock was not a pretty sight at all. It was yellowy and smelly, and slick from root to tip with lots of cum and cream mixed in with the contents of Marek's ass.

"Wimp rule number five," was all the man said as he lay down on the mattress and presented his cock for cleaning.

And then it was over. Marek could feel the spreading warmth in his ass from the man's cum. That was his signal that it was time to get back to work. What time was it, anyway? The morning had dragged on for what seemed like an eternity, and yet, Tichy hadn't even showered. It wasn't even lunch time, and it already had been a marathon of sex, pain, and fear for Marek.

And then it got worse. Tichy's spent cock looked like a nightmare. It looked revolting. It smelled disgusting. Marek eyed it with a ghastly expression. The man might as well have been feeding him shit. That was mostly what was on it. He knew what wimp rule number five was. It was the cleanup rule. Marek didn't want to clean it. On this day from hell, he just didn't want to clean it up. He had never seen the man's cock look so rancid and disgusting.

Marek's face turned a greenish-grey color. Tichy could tell he was going to lose it even before the boy clutched his hands over his mouth to try to stop the flow. He tried to scramble from the bed and make it to the bathroom, only to go down in a heap as he forgot about the condition of his feet. That's when he completely lost it, vomiting his breakfast through his clutching hands all over the man's carpeted floor like a fire hose. Again and again the boy's young body tensed and flexed as his stomach heaved and voided until there was absolutely nothing left inside him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tichy," Marek gasped as he looked up from the floor. He felt drained and doomed. He didn't even think about what the consequences would be for what he had just done.

Tichy watched the entire ordeal, then stood up from the bed, rolled his eyes, and stepped over the cowering boy as he proceeded toward the bathroom.

"Fine, he snapped crossly. "But that's the last bit of slack I'm cutting you today before you go in the sack." With that, and before he did something to the boy he might later regret, Tichy walked into the bathroom to have a quick shower, using soap and hot water to clean what Marek's mouth was supposed to have cleaned on its own.

The boy was shaking as he finally stopped dry heaving and gagging up the contents of his stomach. He was pervaded by a feeling of absolute doom. He felt wretched, and he knew that Tichy was angry at him. He had failed Rule Number Five, he had defied Tichy, and he had defiled the man's floor. He had fucked up in so many ways that he didn't even know where to start. His head was spinning a little bit; he almost felt like an emotional collapse was coming on. He could feel it, spinning up from the floor, threatening to engulf him and take him away. He couldn't do this for two weeks. He wouldn't survive it, and even if he did, he had absolutely nothing better to look forward to afterwards. He took a deep breath and then another as he fought the panicky sensation, and somehow, almost miraculously, it went away. He wiped the filth from his face and took some deep breaths. He still felt miserable.

Tichy dried himself off and returned to the bedroom to put on some clean, comfortable clothes. Marek remained on the floor looking lost and defeated.

"You know where the bucket and cleaning supplies are," growled Tichy. "There better not be even a trace of this left when I next see that carpet, you idiot boy," he added as he left the bedroom and slammed the kitchen door shut from the inside, lighting a Startka he sat down to try and calm his temper before he could even consider making lunch.

"Yes, Mr. Tichy," Marek gasped as the door slammed shut emphatically.

Tichy was angry, but Marek's reaction to seeing his filthy cock had not been feigned, and the man did not feel the need to force the issue and punish the boy beyond his endurance. The two of them would be spending the next two weeks together, and Tichy knew that if the man overdid the punishments and pain in the first couple of days, Marek might well have a breakdown. The kid still looked like he was close, so instead of picking up the cane as he instinctively wanted to do, Tichy redirected his focus to preparing lunch.

Marek crawled to the supplies under the bathroom sink and hoisted himself upright to use the faucet. He spent the better part of the next hour cleaning and scrubbing Tichy's bedroom floor and carpet, washing everything thoroughly. He felt guilty. Throwing up all over everything was not the type of thing you wanted to happen when you were in somebody else's home, even if it were Tichy's home. It had been a disgusting display.

When Tichy had finished smoking a second cigarette and calmed down a little, he poked his head through the kitchen door.

"Clean yourself up, too, and change the sheets on the bed," he told the boy. "Drink some water and gargle so your teeth don't get damaged, damn it!" he cursed and closed the door again.

Marek cleaned, then dumped the bucket and cleaned again. He gathered the sheets up into a little bundle. He hoisted himself up to the sink once again and washed his face. He brushed. He gargled. He started to feel a bit better.

While Marek cleaned and scrubbed, Tichy was at work in the kitchen. This would be the first actual meal he cooked with the boy present and he didn't want to go for a stereotypical bachelor's thing like tlacenka [head meat sausage], so he picked up one of the nicer chunks of meat he'd bought and chopped it up, adding onion and paprika, stirring and frying, and adding finely chopped vegetables, flour, and instead of water, his secret trick – a bottle of beer – then he stewed it for a good while, while heating the knedliky [dumplings] on a steam tray. His decent cooking skills got him through his army service without being bullied or even challenged in other ways much, not that he would boast of that to Marek. He still had the knack for it, even though he rarely ever cooked anymore.

Meanwhile, Marek crawled back to the bedroom. It seemed clean. He couldn't smell vomit anymore, but that could have been because of the nice scents coming from the kitchen. Very nice scents. Marek realized he was famished. The other thing he realized was that he was calm again. Not mad. Not seething. Not despairing. It was like he had vomited all of that out of his system with his breakfast. He felt better. Clearer about things. Just overall … better. His feet and butt still hurt from being caned, but he no longer felt suicidal, at least for now.

It took Tichy nearly an hour to make the goulash, but the result was decent, several grades above the fare in the school's canteen or even that of a cheap pub. It was when the food was almost ready to serve that he finally went to see if Marek had managed to remove every trace of his stupid, annoying accident.

Marek still was kneeling on the floor when Tichy returned.

"I'm really sorry that happened," said Marek when the man entered the room, and not because he thought it would make any difference as to whether Tichy beat him for it. He truly was sorry, not to mention more than a bit embarrassed. "It cleaned up good."

Tichy pointedly ignored the boy's apology and remark. "Come eat," he replied simply.

Marek immediately crawled into the kitchen and at the man's direction, hauled himself into a chair at the table. He hoped that his feet would be better soon as his knees were getting sore from all the crawling. As soon as he sat down, Tichy ladled an adult's portion of the goulash onto the kid's plate.

"Eat slowly, drink water and," he poured the boy a shot's worth of beer, "this. And honestly, if you puke again today, I'm just going to give up and lock you in the boiler room for two weeks, only coming in to fuck you now and then while you turn skeletal. That was super annoying," he huffed. "But well done – you cleaned up thoroughly. Now eat. Like I said. Start slowly. It's goulash, and it's quite rich," warned Tichy.

The meal smelled unbelievably good. It looked delicious. After just one bite, Marek didn't want to eat slowly, but he forced himself to. Rich it was, and fragrant and tasty, and just a little bit spicy in a peppery sort of way. The sauce was rich, thick, and meaty, full of flavor and fragrances, warm and comforting, with all the right spices.

It was delicious. It was not just good, it was sumptuous. It was amazing. Marek looked up at Tichy with almost bewildered awe. The man could cook, too? Like this? This wasn't just thrown together. Indeed, it was a small miracle Tichy could make it in an hour; it was almost a high-class-restaurant-level goulash that could take hours and hours to make. Not that Marek knew that. He had been in restaurants precisely twice in his entire life. But this had to be restaurant-quality. Nothing could possibly be better.

Marek wanted to tell Tichy how good it was, but it wasn't like they were friends. Nor were they exactly enemies, at least if Tichy were to be believed. Their relationship was less personal, more like torturer and victim. In the end, Marek said nothing, but he ate every single bite. He also drank the beer. He rehydrated with the water. He ate and drank so much he almost felt groggy.

Tichy hadn't made goulash in a while, and he enjoyed his portion immensely. The good-quality food put him in a rare, charitable mood.

"You know what?" he said to the boy. "Care to make a deal? You'll do your best and utmost not to look so pained when you lick and suck me and we'll either start doing enemas again, or I'll limit rule five to situations where my cock isn't filthy. We don't want you getting diarrhea or anything like that anyway," said the man with a shrug. "Extra effort from you, a little slack for me, what do you say?" asked Tichy as he took a swig of beer straight from the bottle.

Marek listened to the terms of the proposal, almost not believing his ears. Was this happening? He looked at Tichy to see if the man was serious. Rule Five was written in ink on the wall: "I clean up Sir's cock after sex with my mouth and tongue, every time, of everything that's on it. No exceptions. No fuss." Had Tichy lost his mind? Had he lost his "mean" bone, the one that made him so cruel?

"Deal," said Marek, before the man could backtrack. "Sir." Suddenly, Marek's dark, dismal day seemed to have gotten much, much better.

Tichy clinked his bottle against the glass Marek was holding. "Deal," he smiled at the boy.

"When you're done with the washing up and putting everything away, you can go and have a nap," said Tichy as he started to make his post-lunch coffee. He soon thought better of that. The boy was here, so he could make the coffee. He called Marek in to watch the process carefully.

Most Czechs in the late 1970s drank their coffee "Turkish style," in a way that would send a real Turk into a fit of rage if he saw the abomination of the procedure, which was literally just a spoonful of fine ground coffee with boiling water poured over it that one drank until hitting the dregs. But Tichy hated the grit between his teeth and instead had a nice little coffee pot that he used to make a better cup.

It was a machine Marek would not have seen before since his family was so poor. One filled a small basket with coffee and the bottom part with water, then screwed it all tightly together and put it on the stove. The water at the bottom boiled and ran through the coffee basket, pushing coffee – but not the grit – up through a fine mesh, into the top part out of which could then be poured a nice cup of almost-espresso. After it cooled, the machine was screwed open to be washed. Tichy taught Marek how to use and clean it, made the coffee as an example, put two sugars in, and stirred.

Marek's demeanor and attitude was almost that of a new boy. The act of purging and then consuming one of the best meals he had ever eaten had rejuvenated him, and he watched as Tichy explained the workings of the little coffee urn with interest. It was a rare, almost surreal moment for the two of them: Tichy wasn't angry about anything, and Marek wasn't scared. It was almost as if they were having a father-son conversation. It didn't seem exactly like that to Marek, but it did feel like a truce had been called. Maybe it was only for an hour or so, but Marek wasn't seething with resentment and anger, and Tichy didn't seem to be looking for an opportunity to punish or abuse him. It was like an oasis in a very dry desert.

Plus, Marek liked mechanical things. He had lied to Borek about wanting to be a policeman; what he really wanted to be was an engineer. He wanted to design things. Build things. It was unattainable, of course. It required schooling that would never be available to him. But maybe he could learn it someday on his own and still become an engineer somehow. He certainly didn't want to become Vacha when the man retired.

"You're making the next one; I hope you paid attention," Tichy said casually as he lit up; now that he was about to have a coffee and a nice quiet moment, he went for one of the blue Gauloises.

Marek had paid attention. Close attention. He wanted to make another pot of the coffee right now to prove what he had learned and to make sure that he didn't forget any of the steps.

"Yes, sir," he said respectfully. He was confident he could do it. Mechanically, it all made perfect sense.

"Good," replied the man. "Go take your nap."

A nap? Wow. Tichy really did seem to have taken leave of his senses.

"Sir, if you tell me where the fresh sheets are, I'll make the bed," Marek suggested a bit tentatively to the man. Was the truce still on? Did he dare ask a question like that?

"Look under the bed," said Tichy. "Halfway up the side of it is a lever; if you push it, the drawer clicks open and separates a little bit. You can lift it the rest of the way and get the clean laundry out. It locks again by just pushing down hard enough. Then have a rest. After your nap, you'll have to go down with the dirty sheets, as I only have a small washing machine and it's no good for bedding. You'll have to sort that out with Vacha, but first you need a rest and time to digest. That was a nice lunch that took me an hour to make and you're not just tossing it!" said the man, half humorously and half reproachfully.

Marek listened to Tichy's instructions about the bed. It was, of course, many times fancier than the beds he and his mother had in their apartment. His wasn't even a bed. It was a mattress on a pad on the floor. His mother's bed was just an old, wood-frame thing. Tichy had much finer, nicer things. It wasn't lost on the boy that the man punishing him for his bourgeoisie roots was much more affluent than Marek's family was, at least since the time of his father's death if not before.

But the truce was still on. It was nice. Marek was sure it wouldn't last long, but at least he had verified that Tichy had a soul. Or seemed to.

"Thank you, Mr. Tichy," he said sincerely. He turned on his knees halfway as if to leave, then turned back. "Lunch was good," he said. "Really good."

Tichy paused. He knew he could cook well, but it had been a while since anyone had mentioned it. His mother, even though her health was slowly starting to fail her, insisted on cooking whenever he visited. Tichy's face went blank as his mind wandered to his parents. His dad kept their little cottage up in the hills in good repair, and they were doing all right. Normally, he would spend at least Christmas Eve there, but he had visited recently and then phoned to explain the situation with Marek. He had told them he would stop by during one of the later days of the holiday break for a short visit, but he had duties here that he couldn't neglect. Besides, his parents were overjoyed when they heard that he was watching a kid in his flat. They took it as a sign that Standa was finally settling down. Maybe there would soon be some pretty girl from Brod in the picture? They certainly weren't discouraging him from taking on this type of responsibility.

Tichy smiled as he realized that his mind had wandered there for a bit.

"Well make sure not to lose it then," he replied to the boy's compliment. "We can't have you getting any skinnier than you already are!" he added cheerfully.

Smoking and having a coffee while Marek washed dishes and made the bed wasn't a bad deal at all, but Tichy really did plan to let the boy have a good rest. Marek was a hardy enough kid, but he was still only 12 years old, and the man wanted him to keep a full meal down for a change and have at least a short time to recover physically before they got back to business with the boy's punishments. Maybe it was his full belly talking or the beer and the smooth Gauloise, but as far as Tichy was concerned, the truce really was still on – at least for now.

For his part, Marek was almost glad to clean up. It took him a lot less time to wash and dry the dishes than it had taken Mr. Tichy to make the meal. Marek kept replaying the meal in his head. The beef alone would have consumed an entire week's food budget back in Vacenovice. His mother sometimes brought beef home for special occasions, but not the best cuts, and there usually wasn't very much of it. What Tichy served had been so good, and he had made it for lunch. Marek could still taste it in his mouth. It was mouthwatering. The boy felt rejuvenated and full in the stomach in a very pleasant way. Even his feet seemed to feel better, as he stood on them to do the dishes. Walking still sucked, as did anything that required the use of the muscles and tendons in the arches of his feet where Tichy had spent the most time with the cane, but if he stood still, he could bear weight on them once again with little pain.

Marek replayed the deal in his mind, too. Maybe Tichy had made the deal with him only because he had vomited, but there seemed to be something more to it than that. Tichy didn't seem to mind when he gagged or vomited and sometimes almost seemed to encourage it. Maybe he didn't want Marek throwing up in his apartment. Maybe he didn't want Marek to lose any more meals. He did seem concerned about Marek's weight loss, and even the boy could tell that he was thinner. Whatever the reason, Marek was pleased beyond belief that Tichy might not make him lick and clean actual shit from his cock. That was simply the grossest thing that Tichy made him do.

With the dishes done and the bed made, it seemed like Marek could lie down for a bit, so he did. It had been a long, trying day right up until just before lunch, but now it seemed like maybe it could be a good day after all. Tichy didn't seem to be all that mad at him anymore for running away. Perhaps they could just coexist in the man's apartment for the next two weeks. Marek would be obedient and do the sex stuff willingly enough; it would just be so much easier if the punishments went away. It was with that thought in his mind that Marek fell asleep.

Tichy went for one more round of the dorms, helping the boys finish packing and get on their way, especially the youngest ones who weren't as used to the drill. He made sure that no one left too much mess behind so that Vacha wouldn't grumble. Finally, the last few kids left. He checked things, locked up, turned the radiators down, and made sure everything was ready for the janitor's clean up. He then scanned through the school and the gatehouse, making sure there weren't any forgotten pieces of luggage or anything of that sort. He had to sort out a cash payment so a boy who had lost his train ticket could buy a new one, but in less than an hour, his work was done for the year, and he was officially on vacation. He was just turning to head back to the staff wing and back to Marek when Skala tapped his shoulder, pulled him aside, and took him into the headmaster's office.

"Standa, I never said a proper thank you for compromising your holidays to sort out the Hurta boy, and for swiftly solving his escape – that could have been awkward, and a bad look for the school, so here," he said with a grin as he handed two tubular objects wrapped in paper to Tichy, one chunky and heavy, one slimmer and long.

"František, you really shouldn't have," replied Tichy effusively. "But thank you! " He peeled the paper off the bottle and his eyes widened with excitement. "Are you sure? This is quite a reward!"

Skala nodded and gave the disciplinarian an indulgent smile. "I insist."

And so it was that Tichy returned to his apartment with a whole log of uherák [Author's note: fancy Hungarian salami] and a bottle of premium Armenian cognac that put him in an excellent, even charitable mood. Although Marek didn't know it just yet, it was another reason that the boy's day would continue to improve.

Marek slept deeply and restfully. For once, he did not dream. It was warm in the apartment, and after a while, his natural tossing and turning pulled the bedsheet off his naked form. Thereafter, he slept mostly on his stomach and side. His backside showed discoloration and stripes from his last several punishments, including signs of fading, older cane strokes from quite far back. It was the mottled, red, and purple bottom of a very well-punished young boy. Had his butt cheeks been separated, there would be a visible purple ring around his anus, a tell-tale sign of sexual activity, and in his case, abuse. But Marek was oblivious to all of this as he slept soundly.

He awoke after about 50 minutes, sitting up with a contended sigh and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There were no sounds from Tichy. His first thought was of the scrumptious meal he had just eaten. His second thought was that he wanted to take a shower. He rose from the bed, stood tentatively on both feet, and took a few steps. His feet still hurt, but they seemed much better, and if he walked woodenly, without rolling on his arches, he could bear the pain. Did he dare take a shower without Tichy's permission? He didn't think the man would mind – after all, he had smacked Marek once for coming to his office without having showered in a couple of days – but Marek didn't dare risk it. He didn't want to jeopardize the truce and risk activating the man's volcanic temper.

When Tichy returned, Marek was standing in the kitchen with his hands holding the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Tichy had packages in his hands, but Marek knew he hadn't had time to do any shopping. Seeing how fully dressed Tichy was in outerwear and his usual clothing, Marek suddenly felt embarrassed and a bit ashamed about his nakedness. He had gotten used to it to a degree, and that was probably the most embarrassing thing of all.

"Skala's greetings," said Tichy with a grin as he placed the uherák and cognac on the table. "I guess we earned that together; he'd never have been so stupidly grateful for me and my skills if you hadn't tried to escape. That doesn't mean you're no longer being punished, but it does mean you get a piece of uherák as a snack," Tichy said with a chuckle as he cut off and peeled a part of the salami, sliced it, and divided it into two neat piles on two small plates. He also cut a thin slice of bread and halved it, placing a piece on each plate. "I like mine as is, but do you want mustard or horseradish with yours?" he asked casually.

Marek's mouth watered as his eyes took in the sight of the uherák. He loved the flavorful salami more than just about anything, and he felt like he was dreaming as Tichy offered him some of it. What was happening? It almost seemed as if he had been transported to a different universe. Skala had given Tichy presents for recapturing him? Including the uherák? And now Marek was going to be allowed to eat some of it? It was almost surreal, and it just proved that life was strange. Marek thought that his life was just about as strange as anyone's life possibly could be.

It was then that the color of Marek's cheeks registered with the man.

"Ah, good," said Tichy. "Still feeling embarrassed about being naked, are we? Now imagine when you take the dirty bedsheets down. You can do that after we snack. Vacha will be away cleaning, so it'll be Ludmila who'll take them from you. No one else is around anymore. Have your snack, but don't stall. And don't be rude to the girl; if she complains to me … " Tichy said, his voice trailing off as he wagged his finger at the boy.

Marek's face went pale. Was Tichy going to make him take the bedsheets down to the laundry naked? What if there was somebody left on campus? What if one of the teachers was left, or one of the boys with his family there to pick him up? That would be just lovely. Marek could imagine walking naked down the hall with bedsheets that everyone would assume he had peed on while one of his classmates walked by with his parents and younger siblings in tow. Tichy was crazy, but Marek knew better than to argue with him. The rules were still posted on the damn wall. Marek would do it if the man made him.

But Ludmila? How did Tichy know that she would be there? Why would he have to give the sheets to Smallpox? Marek's radar was up. That was too much for even Tichy to know. Had he arranged something with the girl? She was the only other kid who would be left at the school and with the Tichy boys gone, Smallpox was the only person Tichy could enlist to help him torment Marek over the break. It seemed too coincidental that the man knew exactly where she would be.

"I just have to give them to her, right?" Marek asked. He couldn't help himself.

Tichy took a bite of a slice of his uherák; it wasn't a cheap knock-off, either, but the real Hungarian thing. It was slow-smoked, air-dried, and matured. Yum. Meanwhile, the Hurta boy was talking and suddenly sounding very anxious. Good. Tichy had originally thought that sending the kid to the laundry buck naked with Ludmila there was punishment enough, but now that Marek had asked, a whole host of different possibilities suddenly occurred to him. Tichy couldn't make the boy suck him off or do anything much to him for a few hours for fear of making him vomit again, but the boy was well-rested, well-fed, and clearly ready for more punishment. It would be good to keep him on his toes.

"Well, essentially, yes," said Tichy evasively. "You'll bring the dirty sheets into the laundry room and drop them off. She'll have to issue you a clean set; it's a different size than the boy's dorm beddings so you can't just grab a pile on your own even if there are piles laid out, which I doubt there will be since no one will be there to grab any sheets for the next two weeks now."

"But you must be polite to her, Marek, because if she complains about your behavior, I'll roast your ass, and I might even invite her to come up here and watch it done," announced Tichy as he took another bite of the uherák. Damn it was good. It was only two in the afternoon, but he felt like cracking open the Ararat to go with it. The cognac Skala had gifted him was a premium bottle, and you didn't have to be a sly fuck like Tichy to know that when it came to spirits, Ararat was the best that money could buy unless you could somehow, impossibly, get your hands on a good bottle of Scotch.

Marek still couldn't tell from Tichy's response if he and Smallpox were up to something, but the boy strongly suspected it. Ludmila had implied that they had a friendship, and it made sense that Tichy would know her. She always seemed to be around when Marek left Tichy's apartment, and the boy knew that she had either listened in on or certainly seen the aftermath of some of the beatings he had received at Tichy's hands. She always taunted him as he walked by, and he was nervous that she wouldn't leave it at that. The absolute last thing he needed at the internat was to have Smallpox as his bully. He well remembered the feeling of being in fear of her, praying that she would leave him alone. It wasn't something he was proud of, fearing a girl, but that was mostly because he had been in so much pain he could barely walk. Still, even when Marek was at his best, Smallpox was bigger and quite possibly stronger than he was, plus he didn't dare lay a finger on her. It was worrisome.

"I'll be polite, sir," said Marek, but his words were a bit guarded, perhaps even sullen. Something was amiss. Whether or not Tichy put her up to it, Marek knew that Smallpox wasn't going to just leave him be. She hadn't before. Like everyone else here at the school, she seemed to enjoy tormenting and humiliating him. She had even said something before about him being bourgeois, or something about his name or his grandfather. Marek couldn't remember what it was, but it was something unsavory. She probably hated him. Everyone else did, so why not also her?

"Thank you for the snack, sir," he added. The boy knew that if he ate this well during his two weeks with Tichy he might become a little fatty like Radek, but it certainly would taste good to get there.

"You're welcome," replied Tichy. "All right, go take the laundry now and be good. Slip some shoes on, too," he added as an afterthought. Even this time of year, the hallways were far from freezing, but they were cool and drafty, and shoes would protect against the cold from the old, polished stone floors. This was a late-medieval monastery after all, although one could easily forget that because all the frescos had been painted over, all the crosses had been removed, and the mosaic and stained-glass windows had been replaced with clear glass. There was no evidence of religion left anywhere in the building, as befitted a structure in communist Czechoslovakia.

It was a bit absurd in the classical Tichy style the way Marek soon found himself in the hallway with a pile of dirty laundry in his arms and his socks and shoes on, but otherwise buck naked. He counted himself lucky that he didn't encounter anyone on the way to the laundry. The school seemed almost abandoned. It looked and sounded deserted. There was a hollowness to the air with not the slightest background noise to be heard. Not a single, errant sound reached Marek's ears. But for the condition of his feet, probably could dance through the dorms and the classroom wing stark naked and not see a soul. Not that he was going to be doing any dancing anytime soon. He still wasn't too keen about walking on his bruised feet, and he certainly wasn't going to be able to outrun Smallpox if she chose to torment him.

He arrived at the laundry and there she was, looking as Smallpoxy as ever. She was sitting on the counter when he arrived, just like last time when she had snatched his briefs, sucking on a candy cane as if she didn't realize she was fat. As soon as he entered, she grinned a big, playful buck-toothed grin as her eyes lit up. There was no doubt that she was waiting for him. Indeed, seeing Marek was a treat for her, like an early Christmas present. He was a cute boy and not wearing much at all from what she could see of his body that was not obscured by the big heap of laundry he was holding in his arms.

Marek was embarrassed. The bundle of bedding blocked his nudity, but it wouldn't for long. Why did Tichy do this to him? He stopped about 15 feet away from the girl and addressed her formally.

"Comrade Tichy sent me to get new sheets for his bed," he explained in a neutral voice. "He asked if your father would wash these for him."

"Well, Mareček, come over here, and put all that on the counter for me," Smallpox said sweetly, using the pet version of his name – the little-boy version that his grandma used to use. She said it in a saccharine, slightly sour tone, like she was talking to a toddler.

Marek stepped forward and placed the dirty bedding on the counter. He could tell that this was going to be as bad as he had feared, and maybe even worse. The playful, taunting, teasing tone in Smallpox's voice told Marek that she was itching to bully him and absolutely spoiling to make his life miserable. Suddenly, the good feelings stemming from his truce with Tichy and all the nice food he had eaten started to slip away. Marek's anxiety began to increase, as did his heart rate. He was not scared of the girl, but he was deathly afraid of what she might say to Tichy if he stepped out of line with her.

"Did you have another wee-wee accident?" Smallpox said with a pout as she sucked on her candy cone in a way that if done by a prettier girl, easily could have been viewed as teasing and seductive. She cocked an eyebrow at him, then hopped off the counter and went to the shelves that held the clean, roll-ironed beddings. She selected two pillow covers, a duvet cover, and a bedsheet. She held small pile of neatly folded linens close to her body as she returned, not handing it over but instead walking out from behind the counter toward Marek.

Marek reached for the clean bedding, but Smallpox wouldn't give it to him. As she proceeded to walk out from behind the counter, the boy countered by edging a bit closer to it. As she neared him, Marek clasped his hands over his privates and turned to face the wretched girl. Smallpox didn't look like she intended to turn the new bedding over to him without … something. Some torment.

"Comrade Tichy asked me to come straight back with the new sheets," Marek explained, but he already knew it would do no good.

"Yes, and you are afraid of Standa," she teased. "I'm not. Me and him, we drink tea. Have cakes," she giggled. "I can stall as much as I like. The question is, how late do you dare to be?" she snorted.

"So, let's make this quick, or at least give you a chance to make it quick," she continued with a wink. "First, naughty-naughty, hands off your privates when you're talking to a lady, and that's a command!" she said, quite firmly and persuasively. She stood back with her eyebrows raised as she waited for him to obey.

Marek couldn't help but roll his eyes. This was ridiculous. It was just plain ridiculous. He already had his hands more than full dealing with Tichy – trying to fucking survive Tichy. Then there were the other boys to deal with. The teachers. Even Skala. They all hated him. Well, maybe not Skala, but the man was a tool, as Tichy had put it. And now this. A girl of all things. She was messing with him and doing it with Tichy's protection. Worst of all, she wasn't even cute. She was built like a Soviet battle tank.

"I'm not afraid of him," he denied, but even to him his response sounded ludicrous the moment he said it. He was terrified of Tichy, and they both knew it. He took his hands off his package. What did it even matter? He just hoped she couldn't tell that he had been beaten on his privates. That would make things even more embarrassing than they already were.

Smallpox smiled and leered at his nakedness. "Now if you want the linens," she smiled poison-sweetly, "I want to see it properly today. I want to see what it looks like when you get excited. You know. I want to see it get stiff," she demanded. Although she was almost two years older than Marek, she was giggling like a little girl as she said that. But she was still holding the sheets, and it was just the two of them, and he had been instructed not to be rude, and she had a point about him being late; he couldn't really blame it on her if he didn't make it back on time.

"You're so weird," he told the giggling, bullying girl as she ogled him and tried to order him about. "Comrade Tichy said I'm not allowed to … " he started to say, then changed his mind about telling her what Tichy had forbidden him to do. "I'm not allowed to be late."

"Well, you better get it up quickly then, Mareček," snorted the girl. "I ain't budging. I have literally no reason to play nice or be charitable. I bet until a week ago, you didn't even know my real name," she said with another pout. "I know what you brats call me; don't think that I don't," she said crossly and accusingly. "So now you'll show me a stiffy, or I'll stall until my dad comes back and busts your ass before Standa even gets his hands on you!" she snorted as she stuck her tongue out at him.

Marek was in a bind. He didn't really care if the ugly girl saw him naked, but he wasn't keen on doing the other thing. And he had another problem: Tichy had forbidden him from rubbing, humping, or jerking – basically anything of the sort. It could just be that he cared about that only if Marek did it to the point of no return. Lord knows Marek had violated the rule shy of orgasm dozens and scores of times. But Smallpox was in with Tichy. She could give him an order and then rat him out for touching himself, just as Radek had done with the panty challenge. Marek once again found himself in a Catch-22. Which of the two of them should he obey?

"I don't call you that," he offered, trying to stall. He didn't think he had. He thought of her by that name, but he'd never really had a reason to say it out loud. He'd never said it to her, that was for sure, although he had called her a bitch once. That had proven to be a very bad idea.

"Yeah, possibly, but only because you never talk to anybody," teased Ludmila. "It's not from any kindness on your part, and we both know it. I bet your butt is cute though, so how about you put your hands up on your head like the last time and turn the other way for me now," she suggested.

Marek's face fell as the fattest reject of a kid in the entire school – who wasn't even a student there and happened to be a girl – reminded him how much of an outcast he was. Even she knew that he was different from the other boys. How? Why? Why did she care about him? Why did he even exist to her? It was probably so that she could torment him. Everyone else enjoyed messing with him, so why not also be bullied by the janitor's fat, ugly daughter? It all made perfect sense.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" asked Marek. "I let you see me – see?" he said, as he pointed to his genitals. "I'm not hiding it from you. You can see my butt too, all you want." Not wanting to risk an escalation of the situation, he put his hands on his head and then turned around, showing her his marked and discolored bottom. He would let her get her jollies.

Smallpox waited until he turned, then put the bundle on the far end of the counter and stepped up to him from behind, blocking his access to the linens in case he decided to try to grab the pile and scram.

"I'll leave you alone soon enough," said the girl, "but Standa didn't send you to me naked by accident, and I won't pass up a bit of fun if it's served to me on a silver platter. I always like a new toy," she giggled as she moved even closer to the boy.

Marek could feel his heart rate spiking. He couldn't see her, but he knew she was close. Now what did she want?

"You've been a bad boy, haven't you?" Smallpox said in a husky voice as she surveyed the kid's damaged backside. "Take a deep breath and stand steady, Marek. If you move, if you touch my hand, I'll tell Standa you lashed out at me and called me names, maybe even pushed me. I might even hit and scratch my face and say that you did it. So … stay put, will you? Be a good boy," she said with a little laugh and just like that, she placed her hands on his shoulders.

Marek felt her touch him. Her hands were soft and pudgy and maybe a little clammy from the candy cane, but it was a nice touch, despite all that.

"I have to get back," he reminded her, but his voice was lower, almost whispered.

What was she doing? And what was going to happen if her father came back from wherever the hell he was? Marek didn't need this. The man might literally kill him if he saw the boy naked with his precious pig of a daughter. Non-fraternization with the staff and their family members had been emphasized from the first day of school and given the paucity of staff family members living on campus, it seemed that the directive had been given almost solely in relation to the janitor's daughter, with whom Marek now found himself naked and alone.

Ludmila massaged Marek's shoulders, gently molding his biceps and the back of his neck before starting to work her way down his back.

"Gosh," she said in a voice that was little more than whisper. "You are all muscle and sinew. I hope you get to eat well this Christmas with Standa. You are cute, Mareček. It would be a shame to see you wither away," she noted. "Don't get me wrong, you're gorgeous to look at and touch, but if you lose any more weight, it might stunt your growth. It's not healthy being this skinny," she said in a breathy voice even as her hands slowly reached his buttocks. Marek could feel her humid breath on the back of his neck. She turned her hand so that her fingers were pointing downwards, then gave his marked butt a gentle squeeze.

"Don't move," she whispered, her lips nearly touching his ear now. "I swear I'll scream and get you in trouble with comrade Tichy if you don't play along." Her hands slid slowly across his hips to touch and grip him there softly, her fingertips gently exploring the smooth skin adjacent to his genitals. Her hands felt warm to the touch; they no longer felt clammy or fat, just soft and smooth.

Not seeing her certainly helped Marek's brain realize that the sensation was pleasant, even if it was coming from a fat, ugly girl. Her hands moved to the front of his hips and slowly resumed their sliding and stroking motion towards his cock; her left hand ever so gently cupped his balls, while her right hand just barely brushed his cock even as her candy-sweet breath warmed his ear.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Just when Marek thought his life couldn't get any worse, it somehow found a way: Smallpox had the hots for him! She was touching him, rubbing him, and massaging him in places that she shouldn't. It might even have been pleasant for the boy if not for the fact that the ugliest girl in Brod was the one doing it and Marek was deathly afraid of her father. The man intimidated him, and for all anyone knew, he was going to arrive back in the laundry room any second. How would Marek explain why he was naked? The man already thought he was a liar and wouldn't believe a word he said in his own defense. Even Tichy himself might be unable to save him if the janitor thought Marek was messing with his daughter. The irony was that Marek wouldn't have touched the girl with a 10-foot [3m] pole; she was the one touching him.

Indeed, she was touching him all over. Marek was frozen in place. He couldn't move. He didn't dare. Disobeying Smallpox would mean having to explain himself to Tichy. The girl had threatened to lie about it, and Marek knew full well that she easily could and would. Tichy had specifically warned him not to be rude to her. Was Ludmila right that Tichy had sent him here naked on purpose so that she could play with him like this? It seemed possible, even likely. Tichy would do that sort of thing. He loved to involve others in Marek's torment.

She had even lectured him on the eating thing, almost as if she were in cahoots with Tichy on that. Why did everyone care what he fucking ate? Eating was just about the least of his worries. It was down at spot 237 of Marek's List of Top 250 Problems, the first 225 of which directly involved Stanislav Tichy in one way or another.

Marek turned his head away from Smallpox's mouth, trying to put as much of his neck in the way as he could. This was beyond humiliating. It was like being molested by a horned rhinoceros. But then again, it also felt nice. Marek's flanks broke out in goosepimples as Ludmila's hands drifted lower. If she touched him there, he knew he would get hard. It didn't matter if it was her hands or the grim reaper's; he would get hard.

She touched him there, and as he had known he would, Marek hardened instantly. There was no question that he was aroused. Indeed, her touch felt so nice that it quickly could become dangerous for the boy if she went any further. Twin warning klaxons sounded in his brain, one for Tichy, and another even louder one for the janitor.

"Ludmila, okay," he whispered. "You got your jollies. Please let me go back before your father comes back."

"Shhh, you scaredy-cat," the girl chuckled softly. "Dad's cleaning at the top level of the dorm wing right now most likely. He's miles away. And I'll even throw in a nice word with Standa if you behave," she said in a teasing voice as she started to stroke Marek's erection.

Marek's chest rose and fell rapidly. His heart rate was elevated with anxiety. At least when Tichy beat him, the man eventually stopped. He wasn't sure he could count on that happening if the janitor caught him naked with Ludmila. If Vacha saw him like this, it would be a fucking disaster. Marek wouldn't even be able to outrun the man, not with his feet the way they were. Why wasn't Smallpox worried about the possibility of her father returning? How could she not be? He listened as she explained where her father was working. That information made Marek feel a little better, but not a lot. The man could return unexpectedly for any reason. How did Smallpox know for sure that he wouldn't?

Yes, he was a scaredy-cat. He was very much a scaredy-cat. Ludmila would be a scaredy-cat too if she knew what Tichy would do to him if he came without permission. But the problem was that her hands felt good on his penis. The penis that had been stimulated time and time again without being allowed any relief liked her touch. Marek's traitorous penis very much enjoyed what the girl's hands were doing to it, very much indeed.

"You only have me and what I tell people about this encounter afterwards to worry about," whispered Smallpox in his ear as she continued to reach around his body. "So, behave yourself and I won't mention it, or I'll mention it kindly in a way that won't put you in harm's way," she whispered as she slowly began to jerk him off.

"You can whine all you like anyway," she continued, "but your little guy down below doesn't lie. He's nice and straight and honest, unlike you," she chuckled as she gave his cock a nice little squeeze with one hand and massaged his balls with the other. She began jerking the boy a little more vigorously then, but it still felt nice. It seemed almost like she knew what she was doing and wanted to accomplish.

It was too much for Marek. He was going to cum if she kept that up, and the memory of having his balls whipped by Tichy was too fresh in his mind to allow that to happen. He flinched, then knocked the girl's hands away with his own and quickly turned around to face her. His face was ashen.

"Ludmila, please," he begged the girl. ""I can't. I- … "

Smallpox's right hand came seemingly out of nowhere, catching Marek flush on the left side of his face. The blow staggered him, and he nearly went down. He stumbled and clutched the counter for support, and for the first time in his life, he literally saw stars – tiny little black atoms with comet tales, swirling randomly in his head. If his face didn't hurt so much from the hit, it would have been fun to watch them as they frolicked and danced about.

But there was no time for stargazing. The girl was on him in a flash. Like an enraged viper, Ludmila proceeded to slap and smack the dazed and cowering boy with both hands in a flurry of motion so violent that Marek had no idea what had hit him. It was a frenzied attack that no one as pudgy and ungainly as she was had any business being able to pull off. Maybe, a bit stereotypically, Smallpox was more on the big-boned, heavy-set side than fat. She was strong, too; the power behind her blows stunned Marek and drove him to his knees.

"Please, Ludmila!" said the cringing, cowering boy as the girl beat on him. He dared not fight back, even as he tried to cover his head and block at least some of her blows with his arms and hands. "Mr. Tichy has rules for me! I have to follow them! I have to follow them! Please! Ludmila! He'll kill me!"

After a massive onslaught of smacks and blows that made the palms of her hands sting and left Marek reeling, the panting girl paused her attack. "Did you just HIT MY HANDS?!" she demanded in the incredulous tone of a girl collecting her breath for a top-of-her-lungs-scream. She raised her right hand to hit him again, but this time her hand was balled into a fist. Marek ducked and cowered on the floor as Smallpox prepared to punch him, but instead of following through, she changed her mind and stepped aside, her face scrunched up in teenage fury. She was simmering, seemingly just about to explode, but for now, somewhat controlled.

"Grab the bedding, now!" she demanded. "We're going up. I'm telling Standa," she said simply. "At least you won't be late now," she said with an angry grimace etched on her face.

Although he was stunned by the attack, Marek's mind still was working clearly, and he could hear Ludmila speaking, every word. He staggered upright once again, clutching his face with his right hand. His anxiety level was through the roof. His head was swimming, and not just from the girl's assault. He had hit her hands away. That went beyond being rude; it was into a whole different level of badness. Boys simply didn't hit girls. Not ever. Not for any reason. Marek had never hit a girl. He hadn't thought that he ever would hit a girl, except that he just had, and he knew that the consequences of that could be quite severe for him indeed.

"I-" Marek started to say, as she directed him to the bedding. The boy's eyes revealed his panic as she threatened to tell on him. "No, Ludmila, please," he gasped. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hit your hands. I just- I'm not allowed- I can't do what you were doing. I can't. I'm sorry."

He hated how she called Tichy "Standa" like they were best friends. Maybe they were. Fuck. "Please … Ludmila, please. Please don't get me in trouble with Mr. Tichy. I'm really sorry. Please, okay?"

"Too late," Smallpox snapped. "Grab the damned bedding and let's get going. I was being nice, just a little playful, and you hit me. You hurt me, and I am telling Standa. I didn't even call on your IOU. I could have made you hours late, dragging you off to help with some dumb chore. I was just after a little fun, and you hit me. You hit a girl. You hit a family member of a staff person, and someone who's comrade Tichy's friend. You're going to pay for that, Marek Hurta!" she said haughtily.

The blood drained from Marek's face as she quite accurately recited all the reasons why he was absolutely fucked. He felt like he was going to pass out. This development would end his truce with Tichy for sure and put him back in a world of endless pain.

"Now don't stall!" Ludmila continued. "I'm pissed off as it is. Let's go and on our way up you can tell me more specifically about those rules you're so worried about. What is it that you're so strictly not allowed to do?" she demanded. Her attack seemed to have appeased her somewhat, and the one thing that seemed to be stronger than her anger right now was her curiosity.

Marek was in a panic. He knew that he was doomed with Tichy if he could not talk Ludmila out of her plan to tattle on him. Thinking quickly, he did something he had never done before in his life. Not once. Not even with Tichy himself. He dropped to his knees again right in front of the girl. He put his hands together on his chest as if in prayer. He looked up at her.

"Ludmila, please," he said in a tormented voice. "I'm begging you. Please don't tell him. I- I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hit your hands. I've never done anything to you. I don't call you names. Please. You know he beats me. I know you do. He has me alone. I'm just trying to survive, okay? Please. I'm absolutely begging you. I'll never hit you again. I- I don't hit girls. You don't know what it's like. You don't know what he's like. I'm begging you, begging you. Please."

"Now this is interesting," said Ludmila quite honestly. It was a first for her. She had never had anyone literally begging her for mercy from their knees. She eyed the boy skeptically. "If you're trying to survive, why did you not just let me have my fun? I was about a minute from letting you go," she said accusingly. "Why'd you have to ruin it and hit me and all that if you're so afraid of trouble? You do get into a shocking amount of trouble for a boy who says he doesn't want any, Mr. Runaway," she snorted.

Marek could feel the trembles coming on – mortal-fear-based trembles – and he tried to fight them off. He didn't want to debase himself before Ludmila any more than he already had, but he remained on his knees as he spoke.

"Why do you think I ran away?" he asked in a hollow voice. If the girl were listening closely, she would realize that the question was rhetorical, more of a statement, really, or an explanation. If she were listening closely, she also would have heard the torment and fear in the boy's voice. But was she really listening? Did she understand?

Ludmila ignored his question. "You'll look me in the eyes and tell me what rule you were worried about breaking," she said. "Then I get five minutes of fun, no fussing, no fretting, no more trouble, you just play nicely. And then you go upstairs, and we both forget about what happened. Deal or no deal?" she demanded.

"Deal," said Marek instantly. Instantly. "The rule – he gave me rules I have to follow, okay?" he tried to explain. "I have to eat and stuff. Other stuff. I can't- I'm not supposed to say. I just have a lot of rules." He blushed then because it was so fucking embarrassing. "I'm not allowed to, you know … jerk off. You know. I can't do what you were doing. It's- It's bad for kids, or something. He doesn't like it. I used to do it, but not anymore. I had to stop. That's why I had to … stop you."

Ludmila grinned and licked her lips as the red-faced boy stuttered his confession.

"Well, I promise not to make you cum," she said impishly, "and that's all I promise. If Standa has an issue with anything else I do, I'll gladly take the blame all by myself," she said with a wink.

"Stand up," Ludmila ordered. "Put your hands back on the top of your head and this time they stay there, for the next five minutes, like they are glued in place. You'll get no more chances after that no matter how much you beg. If you try to move away or touch me again, I'll go out of my way to get you into as much trouble with Standa as humanly possible. Understood?" she demanded sternly and cocked her head at Marek to get on with it.

Marek was red-faced, his color almost crimson. Because Ludmila was a girl, this was somehow even worse than with Radek and the Tichy boys. He just wanted it to be over. Anything could go wrong. Tichy could get angry that he hadn't returned. For all Marek knew, the man was on the phone with the parachute regiment right now looking for him. An even greater concern was if the janitor returned. Ludmila might not care because he was her father, but Marek certainly did. What if the man forgot something and returned to get it? What if he needed to empty one of the washing machines? How could she be so sure he wasn't on his way? Vacha would skin him alive and roast his body in one of the industrial dryers if he caught Marek here naked with his daughter.

As Marek stood up Ludmila's hands quickly returned to his body. Now they were facing each other, and he couldn't avoid seeing her not-pretty presence in front of him, even as her soft, smooth, sliding touch explored his pecs and abs, then his sides. Then she squatted before him and touched his cock once again.

Ludmila didn't seem to care about her father at all, but the man was all Marek could think about as he stood nervously with his hands atop his head. The girl's touch was light and tantalizing. It brought unwanted goosebumps and little flinches to his skin where it tickled. To his chagrin and embarrassment, it also brought an unwanted erection. Marek's penis apparently wanted what he, himself, did not want. Maybe that was because his penis couldn't see the ugly girl in person., or maybe it was because it was a traitor to the rest of his body.

"You can tell me how close you are to cumming," said Smallpox. "Use numbers. Ten means you're actually squirting. I'll be careful not to go much past nine, but only if you don't cheat. If you say nine straight away, I might keep going just to punish you for fibbing!" she warned and slowly, gently started to rub and massage his dick again.

"It's already at like a five, please," Marek told her shortly after she resumed touching it. "It's pretty much always there … now it's a six."

"I can understand his rules now I think," she smiled. "You're so cute and easy to control like this, aren't you?" she said as she smiled at him, showing off her big, crooked teeth.

"Yeah, sure," he said dismissively, but Marek wasn't sure what exactly she meant when she said he was easy to control. The boy was 12, and he hadn't put it all together yet. Smallpox's remark confused him, but Marek knew that she didn't understand about the control Tichy had over him that had nothing to do with his penis. Maybe she thought she did, but there was no way she could. She tormented him because he was vulnerable and available, but she didn't understand Tichy's rules. She didn't even know 90% of them.

Part of him wanted to tell her about how Tichy really controlled him just to see what she would say. She may already have known about the beatings, but she didn't know the rest of it. She wasn't a student here, so telling her would be different from telling Borek or one of the other boys. She wasn't his classmate, but she also wasn't Marek's friend, and she was friends with Tichy. She was just like all the rest of them. She seemed to hate him just like everyone else did, so she wouldn't care what Tichy was doing to him.

Shortly after Marek changed his rating to a six, he brought his hands down to his sides. Smallpox briefly let go off his cock to reach around and smack his butt.

"Hands glued!" she reminded him as she again grabbed his cock. She stroked him softly and slowly before she found a small droplet of leaking precum and used the pad of her thumb to spread it over his piss slit and the surrounding area with a small, firm, circular motion. She then gave his cock a squeeze, lazily and slowly – almost too slowly – but even that was enough to arouse Marek in his pent-up state.

Marek flinched but didn't otherwise react as she spanked his butt. His hands returned to his head. When she used his own pre to massage his glans, he winced. It felt good. Atilla the Fucking Hun could be rubbing his cock right now and it probably would feel good.

"That's a seven, Ludmila," sighed Marek. "I'm not lying." He paused for a moment before continuing. "So how are you friends with Mr. Tichy?" he asked, trying to change the subject so his cock didn't get him in trouble yet again.

"Seven already?" chortled Ludmila. "You'd better start going over multiplication tables in your head then because I still have the best part of four minutes left and I'm not letting you off that easily. You're going to going to have to demonstrate some self-control, Mareček!" she giggled.

She used her left hand to flick him in the balls.

"Just numbers for now," she warned. "It's in your own interest. No chit chat while I'm having fun. If you want to come and talk to me one day, that's fine, but not as a stall tactic!" she added with amusement. She started to wank him a little faster, then paused entirely, the moment suspended in motionlessness.

Marek wished it didn't feel as good as it did, not only because he didn't want to incur Tichy's wrath by cumming, but also because he wasn't attracted to the girl at all. Still, he wasn't sure he could make it four more minutes, not with what Ludmila was doing to his cock. It was to his benefit that she was hitting him, smacking his butt, and flicking his balls – not that he liked it, but it was helping him to hold off disaster.

"Fine," he said to the girl, as she refused his efforts to converse. It hadn't been a stalling tactic. He had really wanted to know.

"Close your eyes, and keep them shut, tight, or else!" she demanded, and when Marek did so, moments later something wet and warm engulfed his penis as she took his cock, the tip of it anyway, into her mouth. Warmth and exquisite, soft wetness washed over the boy's glans as her tongue teased it playfully.

Marek closed his eyes on her instruction, but the truth was, he had had an inkling of what she might do even before she did it. As she took his cock in her mouth, it occurred to the boy that this was his first time. His first time receiving oral sex was happening with an ugly girl who he didn't like and who didn't like him, with him standing naked and awkwardly in the laundry room of the school he despised, waiting in fear for the girl's father to return at any moment to kill him, while hoping not to be so late or otherwise in trouble that Tichy caned the skin off his buttocks. Great. It was such a bizarre introduction to oral sex that Marek wasn't sure he could ever top the moment.

But despite all that, it felt good. When all was said and done it felt good, just as Marek always had assumed it would. He guessed he could understand Tichy a little better now, not that he wanted to. Perhaps Radek, too.

Ludmila took a bit more of his cock in her mouth, then slid off, her lips so tight around it that they made a slight suction sound as his cock popped free.

Oh, man. Marek didn't want it to feel this good, but with his eyes closed, and without her hitting him, it was all he could think about. His cock needed release, and for a split second, he considered just letting her have his load right in her mouth, Tichy be damned. It would serve her right, and beyond that, it would be hilarious. It would be downright hilarious, right up until the time she started beating on him, which would be a just a few minutes before either her father or Tichy finished the job and beat him to death. But for a few seconds, it would be the funniest thing in the entire world, just the funniest thing. Marek smiled at the thought. It really would be funny, even if he didn't dare to do it.

"Don't forget your numbers," Ludmila chuckled from her knees. "And by the way, if you cum in my mouth, I'll bite it off before I beat you up. Standa isn't the only one who can hurt you, you know," she reminded him casually.

All thoughts of risking death for a laugh left Marek's head as soon as Smallpox made it clear that she did not share his sense of humor. The boy fumed at the breezy, confident way she declared that she would hurt him – as if it were her right to do so whenever she pleased. But the sad reality was that she could hurt him whenever she pleased, not only because she was bigger and stronger than Marek, but also because the boy wouldn't dare to fight back for fear of what Tichy or Vacha would do to him if he did. To Marek's chagrin, she also confirmed her awareness that Tichy hurt him, and apparently, that was just fine with her. Thanks for all the help, Ludmila, Marek thought to himself.

Ludmila teased the very tip of his cock some more. She seemed to be having fun with Marek's erect, needy cock. She teased, licked, and kissed, and then just like that, she took him whole. He was small enough, and she was old and big enough, not to gag on him. She hummed around his cock once she had it in her mouth, and that, too, felt dangerously good to the boy.

"Okay, I'm serious, that's an eight," Marek said to the girl. It was at least an eight. His cock twitched, and if it wasn't leaking like it did so often these days, his last name wasn't Hurta – although he very much wished it weren't.

"Why do you think he hurts me?" he asked the girl. If she wanted to make conversation, then have at it.

"Mhmm, I think I believe you," said the girl as she pulled off his cock and ignored his question. "It's a weird taste. And that stuff feels slimy on my tongue," she mused as she gave it a few more firm wanks.

"You can open your eyes now," she said with a grin. "This is the part where you practice your control and restraint," she added with a giggle as a seemingly spontaneous idea hit her.

Marek was about to speak again as his arousal approached level nine, a dangerous precipice from which he might not be able to hold back, but the girl pulled off. He swallowed with relief and said nothing, even as his boner twitched and contracted with need. Ludmila's efforts were making it very clear to Marek just how much he needed to cum. He was prepared to beg Tichy for the opportunity, maybe even from his knees as he had done with Ludmila, but first he needed to get through this.

He opened his eyes but looked worried. He glanced down at the girl as she knelt at his feet pleasing his cock. How shaming it was to remember how many times he had done that himself. Now a girl was doing it for him, and he didn't even want it to happen. Life was weird, but his life had to be the weirdest.

Ludmila wet her index fingers in her mouth, and first with one, then with the other, she touched his tight, almost-ready-to shoot ball sack underneath his dick and ran the back of her finger up over the underside of his shaft. It was a slight, light, upward motion that involved almost no friction; if he weren't already aroused, it would have been too subtle a sensation to get him off. But as soon as her first finger slid over his piss slit, the next finger began the same journey up his shaft. Alternating between her two fingers, she could make the tantalizing sensation pretty much continuous.

"I'll go easy on you, but you must last the full minute," said Ludmila. "Don't cum. Think of whatever you will, eyes opened or closed, I don't care. Just don't cum for one minute," she said as her fingers kept sliding up the underside of his erection, wetly, softly, and continuously.

Marek shivered and his mouth opened wide as Smallpox caressed his ball sack and shaft with her index fingers. This wasn't fair. It wasn't wanking, and under normal circumstances, it never would get him off. But these were not normal circumstances. He really, desperately, need to cum. And if she kept this up, he was going to. He was going to shoot his cum all over the ceiling.

"I can't last a minute – please," he panted. "It's already a nine … please." He closed his eyes. He bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood. She was killing him. With a groan, hands still on his head, he bent forward a little at the waist as he backed his hips away …

Ludmila gave him a few more finger strokes for good measure and then stopped, lowering her hands from his penis.

"Fair," said the girl. "I promised not to get you in any trouble if you played along, so that's that," she said as she stood up and grabbed the pile of clean linens. She thrust them toward Marek. "You're leaking, so keep them high up so you don't dirty them," she added pragmatically. "Nice and high, above your belly button!" she said sharply as she divested herself of the sheets and gave his butt a final swat.

"You didn't last a minute though, which means you clearly need practice," she added before he could go. "You'll come again. Even if it means you have to wet the bed or spill something on it or whatever, you'll come again. We'll play again, before the New Year. If you don't come to me, I'll come to you, and I'll ask Standa to show me how he spanks you and whatever else," she said with a grin. "I know where you're staying for the break, don't forget. Now you can go."

Marek's cock was still rock hard and twitching with need as the girl handed him the bundle of clothes. Thank God she had kept her promise, but the boy wasn't thrilled with her last few comments and her demand. She wasn't the boss of him; that definitely was Tichy. Even if he wanted to come back to the laundry, which he didn't, he wasn't about to wet the bed or spill crap on Tichy's bed sheets to do it. She didn't understand how Tichy was. She obviously didn't know about his temper, and she clearly didn't have any real understanding of what Tichy did to him. "Spanks" indeed.

Marek was starting to get frustrated. He was tired of being bossed around and he didn't see any reason why he had to put up with Smallpox's teasing. Tichy had said he should be polite to her, but he had said nothing about obeying her commands.

"He doesn't just spank me," he informed the girl flatly, "he beats the shit out of me. And if you think for one minute that I'm going to risk that by lying to him to come see you, you can forget it. You have no idea what he does to me. You think it's funny. Go ahead and laugh. Go ahead and make fun of me. You have no idea."

But Marek knew he could still get himself into trouble, so he forced himself to calm down, even as he wondered if he already had said too much.

"I'm trying to be polite," he continued in a softer voice. "Thank for you for not telling him about what happened. I didn't mean to hit your hands. I was worried what might happen if you didn't stop. If you tell on me, he's going to cane me again, and I never did anything mean to you, ever. You never even tried to be my friend. You never even gave me a chance."

"I'm being polite. I'm sorry if I got mad. I have to go," he said, as he clutched the bundle to his chest and began to walk away.

Ludmila had spent years being mocked, avoided, and the subject of nasty faces and rude gestures by the snotty brats at the internat, so if Marek expected pity from her because Standa was being hard on him for his misbehavior, he was barking up the wrong tree. Not to mention that the idea of seeing someone powerless and suffering appealed to Ludmila in a way she wasn't quite ready to verbalize, at least not outside the very private tea-and-cake sessions she enjoyed with Standa.

"With all due respect, little boy," said Ludmila to his back, sarcastically, "you very much don't look like someone who's had the shit beaten out of him recently, and I'm sure you earned those cane marks on your butt. Don't think I didn't see the marks on your cock, too. You can whine all you like, but I'm yet to start believing you're getting anything you don't deserve. And by the way, you don't have to lie to Standa, you can tell him exactly what I said. I mean it, too. If you don't visit me, I'll come to visit you, and you'll like that a lot less," she said sternly and then walked around the counter to the back part of the room to throw the dirty laundry into a washing machine and run it.

Smallpox had work to do, but she was going to see more of that cute butt and have some more fun, and if the Hurta boy didn't actively help to make that happen, he was going to pay for it. She would see to it. She would make sure of that with Standa. Marek would see.

Chapter 20

Marek had not gotten the reaction out of the girl that he had hoped for, but then again, he was used to that by now. Aside from Borek, Tomáš, and maybe the nurse, nobody at the school treated him well, so why should Ludmila be any different? He wanted to tell her off, but he still wasn't sure what to make of her alleged friendship with Tichy. Was it true? If so, sassing her would be dangerous. It seemed at a minimum that she must have exaggerated the extent of it – Marek didn't believe the "tea and cakes" line at all – but Tichy had sent him down here naked with the expectation that he would see the girl. That had not been an accident. Had Tichy arranged the visit with her in advance? Had he given her permission to mess with him? It wouldn't be the first time Tichy had enlisted another kid to torment him, but would he dare to do that with Ludmila? She was a girl, and the daughter of a fellow staff member. Tichy didn't have the same control over her that he had with the boys at the school. It seemed unlikely.

There was one thing that gave Marek pause, however: He had thought the girl wanted him to lie to Tichy and manufacture a need for him to visit her again in the laundry, but instead she had said that he should simply tell Tichy that she wanted him to come. Ludmila had said that with a straight face. If she meant it, that would mean that she and Tichy had spoken and that they had coordinated things between them. In turn, that would mean that he was skating on thin ice if he disobeyed the girl and refused to follow her instructions. But what in the world was he supposed to say to Tichy? "Oh, hey, um, Mr. Tichy, Ludmila wants me to go to down to the laundry so she can torment me and suck my cock. Do you mind if I go?" It was ridiculous. He wouldn't do it. He couldn't do it. It was absurd.

Then again, what if Lumila carried out her threat to make him pay if he didn't do it? Did she have that kind of power over him? Marek wasn't sure. Tichy had given Radek powers over him, and all it had taken was the snap of the man's fingers. Had he given similar powers to Ludmila? Would he? Marek shuddered at the thought. The girl was repulsive. She wasn't really like a girl. She certainly didn't hit like a girl. His face still hurt from her slap. It bugged the hell out of Marek that he was frightened of her, a mere girl, but she was bigger and undoubtedly stronger than he was. Under normal circumstances he would be able to outrun her, but he couldn't even do that right now because Tichy had mangled his feet.

Marek rolled his eyes in disgust as he realized that he had reached a new low – he feared and was intimidated by a girl. Even if he weren't scared of her, and even if she didn't have Tichy in her back pocket, it wasn't like he could hit her back if she smacked him again. Boys didn't hit girls, especially not the daughters of staff members. The truth was, Marek was almost as scared of Ludmila's father as he was of Tichy. Hitting Ludmila might result in Vacha beating him to death and Tichy helping to dispose of his body, and that wouldn't be until after Ludmila herself beat him up. It was a no-win situation. If only the girl were cute, but she wasn't. She was pretty much the living, breathing embodiment of not cute.

Tichy had finished his cigarette and was beginning to wonder where Marek might be after such a long while. Likely, Ludmila was just having a bit of fun with him. Tichy knew that the boy almost certainly wouldn't try to run on his freshly caned feet, but the recent event made Tichy glance at the clock, look out of the window of his apartment, and even open the door into the hallway to listen for clues as to the boy's whereabouts. But the walls were too thick and swallowed far too much sound from two floors up for him to hear any of what was happening between the kids on the ground floor, so he went back in his apartment to wait. If Marek did try to run again, it would not go well for the boy, that much was certain. Tichy would unleash holy hell on him that he would never, ever forget, and from which he likely never would fully recover, either mentally or physically.

Marek's erection was long gone by the time he arrived back at Tichy's apartment, but the red impression of the girl's handprint still was very evident on his face. The door to the apartment was open as if in anticipation of his arrival, and suddenly, there was Tichy. The man seemed to have been waiting for him, and Marek blushed nervously. Trying to tilt his face a bit away so that Tichy wouldn't see his freshly slapped cheek, he carried the bundle of bedding in and headed toward the bedroom.

"Sorry I took so long, sir," he said in a calm and pleasant voice as he walked by. "Ludmila was there." That was all he said. Tichy could ask him for additional details if he wanted to, but that was all the information Marek planned to volunteer on his own.

"No problem," replied Tichy with a shrug. "As long as I don't hear anything bad about it from her later on," he added like he didn't particularly care what had gone on between the kids. The man was careful not to show any of his earlier unease. He didn't want Marek to know that he still had doubts about the boy's reliability, that he couldn't be entirely sure that Marek wouldn't try to do something stupid and make a run for it. If nothing else, Tichy didn't want to give the kid any ideas.

Marek breathed a sigh of relief. Tichy hadn't seemed to notice the imprint mark from Smallpox's hand, or if he did, he didn't let on. If the boy ever got the opportunity, he was going to try to find out more about the relationship between "Standa" and the girl. Was she bluffing, or was Tichy really her friend? Could she really come to Tichy's apartment and demand access to torment him? Would Tichy let her? Why would Tichy want anything to do with her? It was a strange dynamic between the two of them, and Marek was curious. He also needed to know how much rope he had with the girl. If she really had Tichy in her back pocket like she claimed, Marek knew that he would have to be very careful with her, much like he was with Radek.

The truce with Tichy still seemed to be on, and despite his encounter with Ludmila, Marek was in a reasonably good mood all things considered. He knew that Tichy had one more orgasm in him for the day that it was his job to coax out, and he was considering whether he wanted the man's cum in his butt or mouth. Even though Tichy wouldn't let him cum from the sensation, Marek was thinking his butt would be better. His butt was easier, it took far less effort on his part, and when the man hit that spot inside him, it felt nicer, too – even if he couldn't cum. Marek decided: He would try to steer Tichy to his butt at the appropriate time.

"Go put those away under the bed," Tichy instructed as he glanced at his watch. Marek would have fully digested his last meal by now, so it was time to have some more fun punishing him. Tichy followed the boy stealthily into the bedroom, and when Marek turned around to leave the bedroom after putting the new bedding away, Tichy was right there in his face, startling him. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Lie on the bed, face-up, and stretch out your arms and legs," Tichy demanded casually of the obviously jumpy and suddenly tense young man as he waited for him to obey. This was Marek's life now, or at least it would be for the next two weeks. The kid could either submit without a fuss to his punishment sessions, or Tichy would make him submit with increasingly painful coercion. It didn't really matter to the man which path Marek decided to take. Tichy derived almost as much joy from watching a frightened boy bend unhappily and reluctantly to his will as he did in manhandling and beating a defiant boy into surrender and compliance. It was one of the few areas where he was happy to let the boy decide which path he wanted to take. Either choice was fine with him.

But Marek immediately complied with the man's instructions to lie down spreadeagled on the bed. His heart rate and anxiety began to elevate as he did so, but Marek hoped the truce was still in place and all Tichy wanted was sex. The boy didn't want to be punished, but he knew that he was exposed in such a way that a punishment very easily could occur. He also knew that Tichy had threatened to punish him for the duration of the break.

Tichy smiled as Marek chose to submit, as the man had been almost certain he would. The boy already had gone down the other path a few times, foolishly testing the waters of opposition and defiance only to find that pain and suffering have few actual limits – especially when the man dishing them out has considerable experience in the art and ample motivation to do so. Most of Marek's defiance had been of the silly, childish, and spontaneous variety, but there had been times over the last few weeks when Tichy had been genuinely impressed with the boy's steadfastness and courage in the face of overwhelming adversity. It was hopeless, forlorn, and ultimately wasted courage to be sure, but it had been courage nonetheless, especially for a lonely, isolated 12-year-old boy with as few options, resources, and allies as Marek "Glass King, Jr." Hurta had at this remote, hilltop boarding school located so far from his home in Moravia.

When Marek was in the proper position, Tichy used four lengths of coarse rope to tie the boy spreadeagled, each wrist secured to one of the upper corners of the bed and each ankle to one of the lower ones. He tied the ligatures nice and tight, then jammed a pillow under the boy's butt, leaving his hips arched and his cock and balls very exposed. When he was done positioning the boy to his liking, Tichy cracked his joints and used his hands and fingers to make a tickling motion in the air.

"So, tell me, what did Ludmila want?" he asked with a smile as he climbed onto the bed between the kid's spread legs. "What did she do?" he asked as he started to stroke the handsome lad's legs, hips, and lower belly with his fingertips. His touch was light and casual, his fingers leaving goose pimples in their wake. He was casually, almost carelessly, attempting to conjure an erection from the boy, which he didn't think would be very hard to do.

Marek eyed the man carefully even as he listened to Tichy's question. The man was touching his body lightly and tantalizingly, making him feel good, but Marek was wary. He knew from experience what Tichy could do to him with his fingers.

"Um she, um, wanted to see me," he replied as Tichy's fingers teased across his sensitive skin. "You know – all of me. So I showed her." Marek shut up, but he wondered if he should tell the man more. Would he get Smallpox into trouble if he did? Not that he cared if she got in trouble, but he very much did care if she got pissed off because of it and took it out on him. As far as Marek was concerned, if Tichy wanted to know more, he could ask.

Tichy ran his fingers across Marek's sides from the underside of his arms and over his armpits to the sides of his ribcage, not smoothly and sensually now, but in a manner that was reminiscent of a tickle. It was a keen reminder that even though he was lying reasonably comfortably on Tichy's bed, Marek was in an extremely vulnerable position, unable to move, escape, and especially exposed to being tickled mercilessly if that was what Tichy decided to do to him.

"She wasn't just ogling you standing there for over ten minutes though. What happened next?" demanded Tichy, acting half like he knew what happened or may have happened, even though really he had no clue. Bullshit was strong with him, though, and Marek was likely to be shaken and uncertain enough to worry about Tichy somehow knowing more than he did. That would make the boy much more likely to tell the truth.

Tichy tickled Marek more obviously and directly now, his fingers digging in between the ribs on the side of the boy's chest, a cocky grin on his lips that foretold of more tickling to come.

"Speak."

The man's trolling fingers left goose pimples in their wake as they traced over Marek's exposed skin. They didn't quite tickle – not yet anyway – but the threat was there. The boy already knew that Tichy didn't tickle in the playful, teasing, or even mean way that other people did. He tickled as a form of torture, and he was good at it. The threat was received. Marek would talk.

"She wanted to touch me," he gasped as his body arched and his muscles flexed against the man's touch. "I told her she couldn't, you know, do that, but she made me. She touched me. I swear I didn't want her to, Mr. Tichy. Then she … put it in her mouth," he added. His voice was full of worry. He had just admitted to an offense that was expulsion-worthy in its gravity – not that he had any concern that Tichy would pack him up and send him home because of it. It was the other punishments that the man had available to him that worried Marek no end.

Tichy grinned. "Well now that's a different story than 'she just wanted a look', isn't it?" he observed with amusement. "Did you cum?" demanded Tichy as he focused his gaze on the boy's testicles. They didn't look shriveled and relaxed; in fact, they looked quite the opposite. The realization that Ludmila had been so boldly sexual, and that she had picked up on his hints about keeping boys from being naughty and gone out of her way to give Marek blue balls, made Tichy realize that the girl had far more potential as an accomplice than he had given her credit for so far.

Tichy teased Marek's dick back into an erection and looked down at the boy like a smorgasbord he was about to feast on. The bound, spreadeagled youngster made for quite a sight. Marek was utterly helpless in this position, and Tichy had so, so many options at his disposal with which to torment the kid.

Despite his nervousness, Marek's penis sprang erect virtually as soon as the man began to touch it. He needed to cum quite desperately, but he had failed at this morning's panty challenge, and he knew that he would have to wait at least another day if not longer for some relief. He didn't dare to wank, as Tichy had threatened to whip his genitals into mush if he came without permission.

"No – Mr. Tichy, I swear I didn't," Marek replied nervously. "I didn't. I told her I couldn't even do it because of breaking your rules. She made me. She said- I mean, she said you were friends. I had to let her, but I didn't cum, Mr. Tichy, I swear. I'm following your rules."

"Good," Tichy replied. "She's free to play with you and tease you, but if you cum, no matter who causes it, I'll hold you responsible," he warned. "Now, this next bit is definitely a punishment for escaping. A little exercise in reminding you that you're not and can't be in control," added Tichy even as he slowly stroked and teased the boy's boner.

"I am going to tickle you until your cock goes completely, entirely limp," he announced. He didn't even give Marek time to protest; his hand suddenly moved from jerking Marek's cock to digging into the sides of his belly in a sudden, full-on, two-handed tickle assault.

Marek received part of the answer he had been seeking when Tichy confirmed what Smallpox was free to do. He was glad that he had acquiesced to her demands, as it turned out that she hadn't been bluffing. But was she truly friends with "Standa"? Did he really have her over for tea and cakes? Was it possible that the two of them … did things with each other? Marek wanted to know.

But when Tichy told him what was in store for him next, all thoughts of Ludmila left his mind as quickly as the blood drained from his face. He still was being punished for running away. Was the truce over? Marek instantly was filled with dread, but he had little time to think before Tichy confirmed what the punishment would be and started right in. Marek's last coherent thought before he was reduced to gales of hysterical laughter was that at least a tickle punishment wouldn't leave any stinging marks …

But it wasn't pleasant. Marek's body arched off the bed as the man went at him. His face reddened almost instantly as he did his best to breathe.

"Haa haaa haa haaaa haaa! Haaa haaa aa haaaa haaaaa haaa!" Marek laughed. He couldn't stop. But there was one last thing he did want to tell Tichy about the girl, so he used his last breath to tell him.

"Sh-she ha haaa haaaa c-calls you Standa aaa haaa haaaa!" he said, hoping to drive a wedge between the girl and Tichy by getting her in some trouble. No boy at the internat would dare to call the disciplinarian by his first name, let alone his nickname. It would bring a caning in an instant.

"Yes, we're on a first-name basis," shrugged Tichy. "She's almost a grown woman, not a student here, so I don't see an issue with that," he explained like he couldn't really care much less, which was true. He never even paused the intense tickling all over Marek's sides, armpits, the sides of his chest, his belly, neck, ribs, and his armpits once again. He occasionally glanced down at the boy's boner, aware that so soon after being given blue balls, the boy's erection was quite likely to be a stubborn one. With a cruel little smile, he tickled on, always tickling harder and digging in deeper on one side than the other to make Marek squirm and writhe this way and that in his bondage.

Marek heard the man's response, but he had bigger fish to fry now, as he was having trouble drawing in the breaths needed to fuel his insatiable need to laugh. The initial 20 seconds of ticking "fun" were long since gone as the man relentlessly tormented Marek's body, digging his fingers in literally everywhere a boy could possibly be tickled, especially his armpits and sides. The boy writhed red-faced and silent in his binds, his muscles clenching, his body arching, and his eyes watering as he tried desperately to draw air into his seemingly paralyzed lungs.

"Ha haa haaa haaaa," Marek laughed weakly with whatever air he was able to take in. His face was beet red, and his eyes glimmered wetly, but his penis utterly, absolutely, and resolutely refused to go down.

After what seemed like an eternity to the boy, and which may have been as much as a full minute of relentless, torturous tickling, Tichy finally stopped and waited a little bit for Marek to catch his breath.

"How much control do you have over this going on or stopping?" the man demanded, his fingertip poking Marek's cock to make it quiver, reminding the boy that he still was very much erect.

"I need clear, simple answers. No small talk. Now is not the time to beg. I just want answers!" warned Tichy with his fingers poised only inches from Marek's sides.

Marek gasped for air as soon the tickling stopped, his chest and tummy rising and falling rapidly as he drew in much-needed breaths. His penis remained nail-hard, levitating form his groin, quivering with need that if anything seemed even greater than before. Tichy's tickling seemed to have made the boy harder, stimulating the child's genitals as the surrounding muscles clenched and flexed.

"No control!" the boy gasped as he glanced down at his quivering, traitorous penis. "Mr. Tichy, it's still hard!" he added in near disbelief.

"Correct," confirmed Tichy. "None. In my hands, in my games, you have no control. I set the rules of the game and you play, even if there is nothing left for you to do other than to suffer. I can recreate this situation anytime I like because it's just a condensed example of your life right now. Understood?"

Marek listened, somewhat stunned, as the man drove the point home. He thought Tichy had been asking for real, and Marek had certainly responded sincerely, but it turned out that Tichy knew all along that his boner would not subside. He had known, Marek hadn't, and it was an effective illustration of the knowledge disparity between the two of them. Marek eventually nodded as the man's point fully registered with him.

"Now, repeat after me, and say it like you mean it, because it's the truth," said Tichy with emphasis, as he proceeded with statements that he made Marek repeat one after the other.

"I, Marek Hurta, will spend the next three and a half years of my life under Mr. Tichy's control."

"I will attend this internat until I graduate."

"I will earn decent grades."

"I will suck cock and be fucked in the ass with no say as to when, who with and how that happens the entire time."

"I will only ever cum if I am in Mr. Tichy's presence and with his permission or I will be punished, and that includes holidays and breaks."

"I have no control over anything and will never again act under the illusion that I do."

"Mr. Tichy controls every aspect of my life."

"I will always obey Mr. Tichy and do every motherfucking thing he tells me to do."

The boy's eyes were wide as Tichy made him recite a promise that he didn't want to make, but he felt that he had no choice but to repeat the words. Marek knew that Tichy could tickle him until he wet himself and passed out if that's what the man chose to do. Fearing the imminent resumption of his tickle torture, Marek repeated Tichy's lines word for word, announcing that he would submit to sex with the man and confirming that he would obey him without question.

So that was it. That was what Tichy wanted. All that stuff about his grandfather and being punished – that was just the excuse Tichy was using to isolate and enslave him. What Tichy wanted him for was sex.

Marek supposed he should have been angry. He had every right to be, but at least now he knew the truth. There would be no redemption for his sins. There would be no atoning for what his grandfather had done. It wouldn't be over in another year, or two years as Tichy had told him before. It never would end, not for the entire four years, which to the boy, seemed like an eternity. Tichy finally had spelled it out in no uncertain terms. There could be no more pretending. Tichy owned him like a pet.

The only thing Tichy hadn't told him was whether the punishments would continue. The sex he thought he could do. No cumming he thought he could do even if his balls swelled to the size of basketballs, but the beatings, canings, and other tortures – he simply couldn't face those for the next three and a half years. He wouldn't survive it. His body wouldn't survive it, nor would his sanity. Tichy would drive him insane with pain and fear. He very nearly already had. Marek had been living in fear for weeks, and if it continued, the man would drive him to suicide.

"I am going to stop tickling you, and untie you, and we'll have a photo session instead," said Tichy. "Not for the envelopes. This will be purely for my amusement and enjoyment. We'll make some keepsakes for when I'm old one day and retired and the stream of cute young boys for my cock has dried up," he said with a smile.

Marek nodded agreeably as the man spoke again. He didn't dare say anything for fear that the Tichy would start in on him again. He was eager to be released from his bondage and to have the man stop tickling him. While tickling didn't leave marks and lasting pain, so there was that to say for it, but in the moment, it felt almost as bad as the other things Tichy did to him. It just didn't seem that way as soon as it was over, like it hadn't been that bad. But Marek had been tickled enough by the man to know that it was that bad, and it could be made to be much worse. Could a kid be tickled to death? Marek wasn't sure, but he didn't want to find out. If it were possible to die from being tickled, he knew that it probably would take a long, long time.

Marek now knew that he was the latest in a stream of cute boys for Tichy to have sex with. The man wasn't even pretending anymore, which Marek guessed he appreciated. At least he was being honest. Tichy was a poof. He was into boys. He apparently was into Marek, and he certainly had him for the taking. If he wanted the boy for sex, he had done a damn fine job in securing him. It was all out there on the table now. Marek was Tichy's poof boy; it had just taken him this long to realize it. Maybe if the man had just told him that up front Marek could have avoided some of the punishments he had received. He could have just agreed to become Tichy's whore, although he knew in his heart that he probably wouldn't have done so willingly. But now? What choice did he have but to allow it? He already was the man's whore in all but name.

"You're going to follow instructions with precision, and they'll be very specific and demanding and not easy, including facial expressions and details like that," continued Tichy. "If you mess up or annoy me during the process, or ruin any of the shots, I'll tie you right back and spend the rest of the afternoon tickling you until my hands and fingers hurt too much to continue. Understood?" he demanded as he untied the boy and went to fetch his camera with a new roll of film in it. On his way out of the room, he tossed Marek a tube of the cream.

Marek didn't speak, although he wanted to. His mouth had gotten him in so much trouble it was a wonder that Tichy hadn't cut his tongue off, but he supposed that his blowjobs wouldn't be as good if he did, so it appeared that his tongue was safe for now. He looked down at the cream in his hands and shook his head. He had little doubt that Tichy would be fucking him again as soon as the photo session was over. That was his life now – endless butt-fuckings and blowjobs, interspersed with the other awful things that Tichy made him do, usually with his mouth.

Fuck Tichy and his fucking photographs. He could take a billion of them. Ten billion. It didn't matter to the boy anymore because he knew that only Tichy would ever see them. Marek was sure that the man wouldn't mail the envelopes. It would be too risky for him to do so. Tichy was too smart for that. He wouldn't dare – at least, Marek hoped he wouldn't dare. But if he did mail them, Marek would either kill himself or run away. He would change his name and run away, maybe to the West. He had always wanted to visit the West. He was sure he could get across the border somewhere. Nobody would know who he was. He was just a random kid. He could start a new life under a new name without Tichy.

"On your back with your knees towards shoulders and your feet apart," instructed Tichy as he returned with the camera in hand. "Get all four fingers in your butt again and make it gape. And make a big 'O' with your mouth with your tongue flopping out like you want a cock in there too," he instructed as he started to set up the camera. He adjusted the shutter speed and focal length for the flash, then made sure that there was no mess in the vicinity of the bed to spoil the pictures.

Once the photo session began, Marek did everything the man commanded. Everything. He gave effort. He performed like a circus monkey for Tichy. What did it matter? Tichy already had so many pictures, and the ones with the other boys had been even more compromising than these. No matter how humiliated he felt, there was no sense in antagonizing Tichy. Marek wanted to maintain the truce. He would give Tichy sex and whatever else he needed to over the break to keep the truce in place. For his sanity, he desperately wanted to avoid more punishments, and he would do every motherfucking thing the man demanded of him to prevent them. Every. Motherfucking. Thing.

There was a distinct theme to this photoshoot, photo after photo. It involved Marek begging for cock – or seeming to, anyway. Tichy made sure that the boy looked like he was baiting, teasing, and seducing in every photo. In many of the shots, Marek looked slutty and seductive. In others, he looked coquettish and silly. In most of them, he had his mouth wide open, and his tongue stuck out as if he would welcome a hard cock at any moment. In frame after frame, his buttocks were stuck out and spread, his glistening pucker either stretched or pulled open. Marek looked like the epitome of a horny boy whore.

Halfway through, Tichy made the boy kneel in a begging-puppy pose with his mouth open and his tongue stuck out long enough for a streak of drool to stretch from the tip and ooze down, at which point he demanded that Marek make puppy eyes for the camera. He then put the boy on his knees and made him lean back with one hand casually behind his head and the other gripping his erection like he was wanking, even though, of course, he wasn't allowed to. Throughout the session, Tichy saw to it that Marek's cock remained stubbornly hard by applying a few strokes to it whenever it seemed to flag minutely.

Marek posed for the man's photographs. He knew better than to open his damn mouth and say anything that would bring Tichy's wrath down upon him, certainly not while he was living in the man's apartment and utterly at his mercy for the next two weeks. The boy was smarter than that, and in fact, right then and there, Marek vowed that he would play everything smart. Everything. If he was going to get away from Tichy, he would have to be deviously smart. He wouldn't channel Tomáš anymore to avoid Tichy's wrath, he would channel the new-and-improved Marek Hurta. That version of Marek Hurta didn't just do what Tichy told him to do and hope for survival. No, that version of Marek Hurta would do every motherfucking thing the man told him to do even as he planned and plotted for a future away from the internat. If the boy had anything to say about it, his would be a future without Stanislav Tichy – threats, punishments, and photographs be damned.

For the second half of the photo shoot Tichy took off his clothes, too. He then had Marek lick his cock lovingly but not take it in his mouth. He directed the kid to lick his balls and then lick and tongue his hairy ass and hole. He made the boy shift positions, always demanding that Marek do it with a smile and a playfully raised eyebrow. The man was creating a narrative that very much told a lie, but it was a compelling one that was made stronger with every picture. At a minimum, Marek's stubborn erection wasn't fake. The boy's sexual arousal was very clear – his hard cock wasn't lying about that.

Tichy took a few more puppy shots of the boy, usually with the man's turgid cock somewhere in the frame. When the roll of film was done, Tichy put the camera away.

"Don't move a muscle," he ordered the boy. "I want you to be a statue. I don't want to see you so much as twitch, not the muscles in your body that you can control, anyway. And you will not cum, either," he said, raising a finger in warning.

He then made Marek stand in the same position that Ludmila tormented him in earlier with his hands on his head and out of play. Was that a coincidence or not? Marek didn't know. Tichy entered the bathroom only to return moments later with Marek's coarse, nylon toothbrush in his hand.

"Open," the man commanded, and when the boy complied, Tichy gagged up and sent a well-aimed wad of saliva directly into his mouth.

"Swallow that," he ordered, as he slowly started to 'brush' the underside of the boy's cock with short up-and down strokes that used very little pressure. Marek's cock remained fiercely erect, barely moving against the new, tantalizing sensation.

"Statue!" he growled, startling the kid when it appeared likely that he might try to move.

Marek performed for the man as instructed, swallowing the nasty spit wad down into his tummy, but his head was spinning. Three and a half years was Tichy's sentence. That was his entire time left at the school, and if he couldn't find a way to escape, all of it would be spent at Tichy's mercy, subject to his rules, torments, and discipline. There had been a time when Marek had tried to reconcile himself to a year of torment spent atoning for his grandfather's sins. Tichy had said so – a year of punishments. He had said there might be a need to punish him for a full year. After that he would just monitor Marek. For his last couple of years at the school, Tichy might not even be needed at all.

That was all out the window now. Tichy had changed his mind like the wind, or more likely, he simply had slipped up and told Marek the truth. He now planned to torment and torture Marek for all four years the boy was at the school. That probably was what he had planned to do all along. The rest of it was just so much bullshit – just a mound of steaming bullshit for a naïve kid to believe – and Marek had believed it. He had bought the man's sob story about what the Glass King had done to Tichy's family hook, line, and sinker. There had even been a time when he thought he deserved to be punished for what his grandfather had done. Now he knew that it was all just a bunch of crap. Tichy just wanted a new kid to fuck with, and he had chosen Marek because he was poor, far from home, and vulnerable. The rest of it was just a bunch of malarkey to isolate and alienate him from the other boys and make it easier for Tichy to get him alone and have his way with him.

Marek was distracted as Tichy started in on him with the toothbrush. What was this, now? The boy's cock was rigidly erect, and at this point, Marek was certain that it wouldn't go down again unless Tichy let him cum. His cock quivered as Tichy stroked it with the toothbrush. It felt weird. The boy remained perfectly still. There was a spot up near the top, just below his cockhead on the underside, that felt good when Tichy brushed him there. It was almost a little bit like that spot inside him when Tichy fucked him. Marek liked the sensation of the brush when it rubbed him there. He clenched his cock muscles and made his member twitch and contract – but only once, as Tichy told him not to. The next little flinch of his cock after that was involuntary, and so was the one after that. It simply felt too good to keep still.

The brush was coarse, and maybe it was supposed to hurt, but Marek's penis was so desperate for stimulation that it took its pleasure where it could find it. Marek's cock continued to twitch with need even as the coarse bristles teased and tormented it. If Tichy kept doing this, he was going to cum, and he desperately wanted to. Tichy could punish him all he wanted, but if he was the reason for Marek's orgasm, how angry at the boy could he get? That spot just under his cockhead felt so good when the man brushed over it. Marek tried not to move a muscle, but before long, his cock was spasming with need.

Tichy stopped as soon as Marek's cock started to spasm on its own and show clear signs of an impending orgasm. The man knew how easily those little twitches in a horny young boy could turn into a quick-fire series of cum spurts, and he didn't want that. He instead wanted the boy aching with need. Even seeing Marek piss himself in fear of an outrageous punishment for cumming without permission wasn't worth forcing him over the edge. Keeping him nail-hard until his cock and balls hurt and leaving him full of need until his brain turned into lust-soaked mush was Tichy's goal.

Marek winced with need when Tichy stopped. Fuck! The boy supposed that maybe Tichy had saved him from a beating by doing so, but once again, Marek hadn't been allowed to get off. The situation was becoming somewhat dire. Marek needed to cum. He couldn't quite explain the feeling even to himself, but this was no longer about pleasure, it was about need. It was almost a medical need at this point.

Tichy wondered if Marek was experiencing yet that stabbing pain with which a male body complains about being denied an orgasm when brought too close to it, when fully built up and ready for it, only to be let down time and time again. He intended that Marek would be very familiar with that sensation by the end of the day. He grazed the toothbrush over the boy's hardened nipples before pausing and fishing around in a drawer, looking for something. Tichy didn't have very many toys since sex shops didn't exist in Czechoslovakia at that time, but crafty people did. Zlaté české ručičky, they called it, half proudly, half sarcastically. Little golden Czech hands. It was the Czech ability – ingeniously, or even desperately – to fabricate something needed out of whatever materials happened to be available.

If anything could ruin Marek's mood, it was Tichy bringing the brush to his nipples and basically just scratching him there. His nipples erected under the stimulation, but if anything, the brush now hurt. Meanwhile, Marek's rigid cock continued to quiver with need. Not desire, need.

Tichy dangled a string on a plastic ring in front of Marek's eyes. It had five white balls hanging on thin but sturdy paracord, held in places by knots on either side of holes that had been drilled through the balls and polished smooth. The balls were about ¾" [2 cm] in diameter, maybe a tiny bit smaller. They were made from a rubbery, firm, but not completely hard plastic.

When Tichy produced the balls-on-a-string thing, Marek eyed it warily. It looked like a martial art weapon of some sort, something to be wielded by Bruce Lee as he beat the crap out of 17 Asian adversaries simultaneously. Was the man going to hit him with it? What about the truce? Marek wanted the truce to remain in effect. He had been obedient, but had Tichy read his thoughts? Had he scowled again? Had he made a face? It didn't take anything more than that to set the man off.

"Walk," instructed Tichy as he led the boy to the closest wall, making him lean on it with his head, much like during corner time but standing. He hung a pair of pink panties on Marek's erection.

Marek knew better than to argue as Tichy directed him to the wall, but he was worried. His erection remained, but it was no longer quivering, and its longevity now was in doubt.

"Step back, stick your ass out," Tichy demanded.

Was Tichy going to beat him with the ball-and-string thing? Why? What had he done? But he stepped back and stuck his butt out, exposing it. He swallowed nervously. No matter how Tichy used it on him, the thing looked like it would fucking hurt.

Tichy applied some cream to the balls. Then he pushed them into Marek's ass, one by one.

The boy flinched as Tichy started to press the balls into his butt. What the heck? He didn't dare turn to see, but he knew what the man was doing. Why was Tichy jamming the thing up his ass? It felt incredibly weird as his sphincter expanded for each ball, then immediately contracted as it was drawn inside.

Tichy was amused to see the panties flop in the air as each insertion made the boy's cock twitch with need. "This is how you will stay," he informed the boy. "All you're allowed to do is pull this in and out of your rear. You're not allowed to cum; if you, I'll beat your balls until they fall off and then it's straight into the sack. You're also not allowed to lose that boner. If those panties drop to the floor before I say they can, it's straight into the sack. And be quiet while you're at it," demanded Tichy as he stepped away. "There's no touching the panties or your cock with your hands!" he added for clarity.

Marek didn't understand the rules. Either he hadn't heard clearly, or they made no sense. What was he supposed to do? He knew he had better get it right, since Tichy had threatened the sack. That was just another example of the man's unfairness, of course, because Tichy had told him that if he obeyed and told the truth, he wouldn't do that to him. The sack was the one punishment Tichy had said he could avoid, but that had been a lie. Now Tichy was threatening to put him in the sack if Marek merely failed at one of his games, where he made the rules and Marek had to play by them. Everything the man said was a lie. Marek had known Tichy was going to put him in the sack from the first moment he saw it. There was no way he would go to all the effort of having it made and not use it on the boy. Marek was getting a lot smarter about such things as time went on. Still, he was terrified of the sack and wanted to put it off for as long as he could.

"Wait, Mr. Tichy, please – tell me the rules again?" he said in a voice that sounded whiny even to him. The boy was worried, and he was no longer feeling very aroused because of it.

Tichy had just fetched a small snack and brought his paper to sit and keep an eye on Marek when the boy asked for clarification. It was his first time with a new challenge and a new experience, and Tichy couldn't help but smile at the attention spans of 12-year-olds. That problem, he knew, wasn't unique to Marek. All the first-year boys had the attention spans of gnats.

Tichy walked back up to the leaning boy. "Stay put. Stay erect. Don't cum," he said, restating the rules in simple terms. "And you only have this to help you achieve it," he added while pulling at the ring and popping the first ball out of Marek's sphincter. As the other balls re-aligned, they somehow hit Marek's spot, enlightening the boy on the nature of their usefulness. Tichy pulled another one out, and another, and one more, until only the last ball was inside Marek, then he lightly tapped the boy's butt cheek.

"Now you work them back in, and repeat as needed to keep that stiffy up," said the man. "Do you get it now?" he asked.

Marek flinched as the man pulled the balls out one by one. He got it now. Somehow, they felt a bit like Tichy's cock did when it hit the boy's "inner penis" when the man fucked him. Under different circumstances, it might even be fun to play with them. But here? Like this? With his head leaning against the wall? Not a bit. But what choice did he have? "Stay put. Stay erect. Don't cum," the man had said. Those were his instructions, and Marek would follow them to the letter. But for how long?

"Yes, sir," the boy said miserably. This was not going to be fun. It was going to be work. It was going to be an ordeal. Marek could already feel the arousal slipping from his body. Now he was just nervous. He could picture the sack in his mind. "It's straight into the sack," Tichy had said more than once. Marek knew that the man would do it, too. His blood ran cold at the thought as his arousal continued to ebb despite his overpowering need to cum.

Marek knew he needed to do something, or the panties would be on the floor inside of 30 seconds. This was fucking unfair, but he willed himself to think sexy thoughts. He humped his hips once, then again, fucking the air, before thinking better of it. Bucking his hips was a risky move, as the panties swung dangerously back and forth and at one point threatened to slip off even though he still was mostly erect. He thought of girls, but the first image that came to him was of Ludmila. She was the only girl he had seen in almost four months. He tried to conjure up images of naked women he had seen in magazines back home. None came to mind.

Marek knew that he was going to end up in the sack if he didn't use the balls in his ass, so with awkwardness and difficulty, he reached toward his butt. His fingers found the first dangling ball, and he pressed it inside his own ass. Then the next. Then the one after that. He didn't feel aroused, but it seemed to work. His erection held. He flexed it, making the panties bob. He humped the air once and put the next ball in, but he wasn't feeling it. He was beset by worry. Why did Tichy do this to him? What was the point of it? He was going to have a nervous breakdown. Working slowly, he pulled the balls free from his ass one by one as he desperately flexed his penis and tried to keep his erection going.

For once, Tichy just watched. He didn't comment or make any sounds. He merely sipped at his cup of tea, nibbled on a crunchy cookie, and watched the boy do his thing. He knew that if Marek kept working those balls in and out of his ass his prostate was going to get enough of a workout to keep him erect, not to mention the stimulation given to his anus, sphincter, and all that. But if he stopped, he likely would fail, and then there was the sack, which would be just as much or more fun for Tichy to stuff the boy into. Claustrophobia was such an abusable fear in a young boy, and Tichy was looking forward to exploring it with Marek.

Indeed, as Marek quite correctly had predicted, Tichy very much wanted to watch the boy suffer in the sack, but he wasn't going to hurry with that. This was their first full day together, after all. The other boys had gone home, and the internat was empty. Tichy's work was done, and for the first time he could focus entirely on Marek and his many deserved and pending punishments. Would it be better to have the sack hanging as a threat over the boy's head or simply put him in it and have him experience it firsthand? Tichy wasn't sure, but he was at least partly leaving things to chance. He assumed that Marek would succeed in this challenge, but the sack would happen immediately if those panties fell. The thought of the boy screaming in fear as he was stuffed into it made Tichy's cock twitch in his pants.

It was a losing battle, and Marek knew it. He wasn't aroused. Instead, he was nervous and worried. If Tichy hadn't mentioned the sack – if he just hadn't said it – Marek probably could have kept his erection going for a good long while. But now his mind was wandering. He tried not to think of girls, because that made him think of not thinking about Smallpox, but his mind kept going back there. What could he think about? What was the sexiest thing he knew? What did he used to think about when he jerked off? He couldn't even remember. What was wrong with his brain? Why couldn't he get Ludmila out of his head?

He could feel his erection softening, and that just made things worse. He wanted to cry with frustration, and that made things worse, too. For a few moments, he rallied. He worked the balls feverishly in and out of his ass and used his groin muscles to flex his penis. He tried to think horny, sexy thoughts. He even thought of sex with Tichy, like that time in the man's office when Marek had experienced the best cum of his life – no lie. Even with Tichy's cock rammed up his ass at the time that had been the best one. Marek could remember it. It had felt like he was cumming for a minute, spurt after spurt after spurt. He had cum gallons, or it had felt that way, but then afterwards, when he had looked, there wasn't much there at all …

Fuck. His mind was wandering again. He knew he had to concentrate, but as soon as he did, Ludmila was the first thing that popped into his head. He groaned in anger as he flexed his groin and began to tug the balls out of his rectum once more. He couldn't tell if they felt better going in or out. The sensation was about the same either way, but he couldn't do one without the other. They needed to go in before they could come out. Maybe if he …

He was doing it again. Random thoughts flitted through his brain, distracting him. Marek was in trouble, and he knew it. He desperately flexed his groin muscles and undulated his hips. But there was a definite weakening of the stiffness in his boner now even as his fingers feverishly began to reinsert the balls into his rectum one at a time.

"Mr. Tichy, how long do I have to do this?" he called to the man in a very scared voice.

"Until I'm completely satisfied with your obedience and effort," replied the man casually.

Tichy couldn't see Marek's cock, but it was evident from the desperation in his voice that the boy was struggling with his task. Nonetheless, Tichy read his newspaper, drank his tea, and ate his snack, only occasionally looking up to watch Marek struggling desperately not to fail. It was both interesting and fun to watch the horny youngster try to maintain his erection, and if he failed the test, Tichy would make sure that the boy suffered for it disproportionately once again, just because he could. Although he had taken cock cleaning off the table to prevent the boy from having a nervous breakdown, Marek still had to obey the man and perform to his satisfaction or there would be unmitigated hell to pay.

Marek groaned with dismay at the man's answer. He had been set up to fail. The man wanted him in the sack. It was only just a matter of time. Why did Marek even bother? What was the point of even trying when he had four more years of this to look forward to? How could he possibly survive four more years of stress and pain living under Tichy's thumb?

His mind cleared a bit and he switched hands again. It turned out that pressing little plastic balls in and out of your ass tired out your fingers. Who knew? Marek was learning interesting new things from Tichy nearly every day, but he kept at it, in and out, in and out. He flexed his groin muscles and willed his mind to go blank even as random thoughts continued to enter his brain like a slide show. Images of Ludmila kept appearing, and Tichy too, the fountain in the square back in Vacenovice, his aunt's one-legged hen who laid more eggs than any other, the money he had stolen from Radek, the train station in Lomnice, Tichy's cane …

Somehow, his efforts to clear his mind worked, at least insofar as ridding his thoughts of the sack and Ludmila. And so, with his head leaning against the wall, his mouth open and slack, his forehead aching from the touch of the wall, Marek managed to maintain his erection as he continuously worked the balls in and out of his ass.

Tichy watched and watched … and just watched. He finished his tea and cookies and read the first few pages of Rude Pravo. Nothing of importance was happening, and even as he refocused his attention on the boy, he noticed that his own erection had faltered. This wasn't as much fun as he had thought it might be. He had intended to have Marek torture himself for up to an hour, but now barely twenty minutes in, the game was starting to feel old.

It wasn't fun for Marek either. It wasn't enjoyable. It was work. But Marek kept at it, alternating hands, concentrating on nothing, but somehow keeping his erection alive. His forehead ached, as did his back. His face was flushed and sweaty from his own exhaled breaths bouncing off the wall . His mouth was open and slack, causing him to drool. He tried to swallow the spit, but an occasional droplet fell to the floor between his toes.

Marek didn't want the sack, and that kept him going, but what was the point? There was no point to anything anymore. His despondency had returned. The man may have thought that Marek didn't listen carefully to his words, but he did. Everything that had once given him hope had been proven a lie. Marek knew that now. He was tired of being stoic, and clever, and wary, channeling this person or that, and doing all the things that it took to survive with Tichy. He wondered if maybe he should just fail outright and let the man do what he wanted to do to him, but Marek really didn't want to go in the sack, so he persisted, even as twin beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks from his temples.

"Would you rather spend the rest of the time before supper sucking my cock?" asked Tichy suddenly, almost neutrally, like it was a friendly offer. "I want a full-sentence, descriptive and explicit answer, boy," he added quickly before Marek could even catch his breath and collect his wits to answer.

Tichy smiled in anticipation of the boy's response. Forcing a boy to talk sexy and dirty was a new and quite exciting thing for the man. Before Marek entered the school, Tichy always had maintained a stern, strict, and frightening demeanor with his chosen boys, terrifying and intimidating them into performing for him sexually. With Marek, however, he had all the time and one-on-one access he needed to turn the kid into a potty-mouthed whore who begged for cock on command. Tichy very much liked the idea of forcing the Hurta boy to humiliate himself and beg for sex at the same time.

Marek immediately swallowed his drool and prepared to respond. Was the man giving him an out? Could he avoid the sack after all? He paused to gather his thoughts before he spoke.

"Yes, please Mr. Tichy, I'd rather spend the rest of my time before supper sucking your cock," the boy said to the wall in a flat, emotionless voice.

"Nope," replied Tichy simply. "Not good enough. Not even remotely convincing."

Marek closed his eyes once again and groaned softly with despair. Everything with Tichy was a game. Nothing was easy. Everything was designed to humiliate and reduce him. He was so, so sick of it already, and yet the break had only just begun. Tichy had him in his clutches for the next two weeks, and Marek knew that if he didn't comply with the man's orders and edicts, punishments and pain would follow as surely as night followed day. Tichy already had made it clear that the pain and torment he could inflict on Marek over the break would be even more severe and merciless because there were no witnesses around to see it. The thought made the boy shudder even as he collected his thoughts to humiliate himself and try again.

"Please, Mr. Tichy," Marek began anew, "I really want to suck your cock. I want to taste it in my mouth. I want to lick it all over and make it feel really nice. I want to taste your cum and swallow it. Please let me suck it for you until supper."

"Mmmm," hummed Tichy. "Better. Not quite there, but better. Tell me why you want to suck my cock so bad. Tell me about you, the cock sucker. What are you? What makes you want to suck my cock as much as we both know you do?"

Marek rolled his eyes as the game continued, but he knew he didn't have time to waste. The verbal exchange with Tichy was distracting him, and his erection again was flagging. The panties were going to fall very soon if the man didn't let him off the hook.

"I'm a wimp cock sucker, Mr. Tichy," he said morosely. "I'm the lowest form of wimp who ever existed and I really like to suck and lick your cock and swallow your cum. I really like the taste. I like playing with it in my mouth and swirling it around with my tongue. I really want to suck your cock so I can taste your cum, Mr. Tichy. I need your cum in my mouth."

Tichy smiled as the boy worked to entice him. This was fun as well as arousing, and Tichy's cock started to erect once more at the sound of the boy's dirty words and sexy talk. It didn't seem to matter that everything the kid said was a lie; the words alone were enough to excite. Almost on the spot, Tichy decided that he liked hearing Marek's dirty talk a lot. The boy would be doing more of it for sure. Much more. Tichy would see to that.

"You're almost there, Marek," encouraged Tichy. "I almost believe you. Tell me more about my cock. Tell me what you like so much about it that would make you want to suck it until supper time."

Marek was becoming desperate. He worked the balls back into his rectum, trying to keep his erection up, but his cock was being defiant. It was being traitorous, as it so often was. The boy knew that he needed to persuade Tichy of his desire within the next half minute or so or the panties would fall to the floor and he would end up in the sack.

"Mr. Tichy, I- I love your cock," the boy begged. "I really do. It's so big. I love the way it feels in my mouth when I suck it. I love the way it tastes. I love making it cum, Mr. Tichy. I'll do a really good job, Mr. Tichy. I really want to suck it until you cum and then swallow it. Please, sir."

The kid sounded so desperate, and Tichy could tell that he was close to losing his erection and the panty game. As much as he wanted to watch the boy suffer in the sack, a motivated blowjob also sounded nice, and there would be plenty of time over the next two weeks to study exactly how Marek fared in the mummy suit. Still, Tichy paused for a bit before rendering his verdict, just to watch the kid squirm.

"Nicely done," he said after a long pause. "You've convinced me that you really want to suck me off, and that's an acceptable way for you to spend the rest of the hour. Come on then. Get all five balls back in your ass right up to the ring on the end, then crawl over here and suck. You'll want to suck as best as you can, Marek. No holding back."

"You've done well today," added Tichy encouragingly as the boy moved to comply. "You've worked hard and proven your obedience. There'll be no sack for you today. That risk has definitively been averted, so unless you directly disobey me between now and bedtime, you no longer need to worry about it for today," he assured the boy. "You really have done well. Don't ruin it now, come and be a good boy. I want you to be a good little cocksucker. You know how, and we both know you know how, so … " said Tichy with a wink and a little chuckle, "… don't disappoint."

Marek was relieved to have survived the game, but he still couldn't help but feel sorry for himself. It wasn't the stupid game; it was what the man had said about the sack. Tichy's praise seemed real enough, and it helped to know that the sack wasn't going to happen today, but what about tomorrow? What about the next day? What about the four years after that? Marek felt despondent as he pushed the balls back inside his rectum one by one, but he knew that he needed to snap out of it. He had a cock to suck, and the man expected him to do a good job sucking it, or else.

With the balls properly inserted, he dropped to his hands and knees and tried to force himself to think better thoughts. He had been hoping to steer Tichy's third cum of the day to anal, but the man wanted his mouth instead, and that would take effort. More than effort, it would take a proper attitude, and Marek knew that he was in no mood to do it well. Nonetheless, he began to crawl toward the man. SNAP OUT OF IT! he told himself sternly. He knew that he would be in trouble in short order if he couldn't rid himself of his morose feelings. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he didn't come around, so he steeled himself, preparing for the task ahead. He would give a good blowjob. It would be the last one today – at least he prayed it would be. He had to make the man happy. Maybe things wouldn't look so bleak in the morning.

Marek forced a neutral expression as he crawled between Tichy's legs. It was the best he could do under the circumstances, but he was ready to perform. He was ready to suck. He would give the man a good blowjob and survive until tomorrow. Tomorrow was a new day.

Tichy was looking forward to the blowjob to come. He knew he should really throw some supper on, but then again, they'd had a veritable feast for lunch. Something quick and simple would do just fine, and until then … Tichy smiled. He stopped Marek with a warning finger gesture just as the boy was about to pop his cock in his mouth.

"Beg for it," said the man. "Make me believe you REALLY want it," he demanded.

Marek's face fell as the man commanded him to do the one blessed thing he just wasn't sure he could do right now, which was to pretend that he really wanted to suck Tichy's cock. It was a problem. Why couldn't the man just let him suck it in peace? Why? He swallowed, steeling himself.

"Please, Mr. Tichy," he began. "I really want to suck your cock. I- I really want to," he intoned. There. He was trying. He had said the mandated words. He just wanted to get on with it.

Tichy wasn't impressed. He reached over and slapped the boy hard on the cheek as his other hand reached for the cane. It was nice to have the implement so close whenever he needed it. It also was nice to know that Marek didn't have any classes to attend tomorrow and that the kid's butt could be absolutely torn up if that's what needed to happen.

"Feeble effort," the man chastised. "I don't believe you. It sounds like you're trying to get the begging out of the way and the sucking, too," he said with a frown as he swooshed the cane through the air. "Maybe I was wrong earlier. Maybe you need to be hurt, regularly, to be reminded that the merciful options really are merciful," contemplated Tichy out loud as he cut the air with the cane. "I think a few stripes on your backside and a few more on the backs of your thighs might improve your attitude a whole lot."

"So let me re-phrase my instruction," the man continued smoothly. "Right now, you're not allowed to suck my cock, but sucking my cock and doing it well enough for long enough is the only way you can avoid an especially severe caning," announced Tichy. "So, what do you say now?" he taunted the helpless boy with a self-satisfied grin.

Marek knew it wasn't good enough as soon as the words left his mouth, but when Tichy slapped him, he could feel the stubborn, self-destructive thoughts begin to enter his brain once again and start to take hold. Those same thoughts – this same angry, self-destructive feeling – had caused him so much pain and torment before, and every time he was punished for it, he vowed that he would never, ever let it happen again. And yet, here he was. Why? Why did he do this to himself when he knew where it would end? There wasn't any doubt where it would end. So why? Why did he do it?

But Tichy kept upping the ante, making it worse, making it harder. Marek hadn't wanted to play the balls-in-ass game, but he had played it. He hadn't wanted to ask to suck Tichy's cock, but he had asked to do it. He hadn't wanted to beg to suck it, but he had begged. Now this. Nothing was enough with the man. Nothing ever was enough.

Tichy could have had no idea of the battle raging inside Marek for control of his brain and soul. On the left side of his brain was reason, self-preservation, and fear. On the right side was despondency, stubbornness, and unhappiness. Right now, everything was balanced on a knife's edge. Left side battled right side. Marek swallowed. He still couldn't look up. His skin felt clammy. The truce with Tichy hung in the balance if it was even still in effect. He felt like he was losing control. He felt like he was going to have a breakdown.

"Please, Mr. Tichy," he began. "Please let me suck your cock. I've been trying all day," he said with a hitch in his voice. "I've b-been trying." He was near tears. He had been trying. But authentic begging was just not going to happen right now, regardless of the outcome of the whole left-side, right-side thing.

"That's whining, not begging," said Tichy simply as he swished the cane through the air.

"You've tried hard, and I've just told you that you've been good, and I've taken the scariest, worst things in the room out of the game entirely to show you another little bit of mercy," the man explained. "Stand up," he commanded. "Go to the bathroom and wash your face. Go drink a glass of water. Collect yourself. Then come back in and put on a show. Try and think about this a little. I'm not actually hurting you. In fact, I ended a difficult game you were struggling to play before you failed it. I chose to save you from a serious punishment. You are getting tense and angry, focusing selfishly on the things that haven't gone your way and forgetting about the bad alternatives that you've avoided."

"You had a good lunch today," Tichy continued. "You had a nap. You had a little humiliation at Ludmila's hands for soiling the sheets with vomit, and an agreement, for the time being, that you don't have to suck your own shit off my cock. Go out of this room and think about these things. And when you come back, I want you to know that all I want is for you to play a silly little humiliating game to entertain me and get me hard before you start sucking. You have up to ten minutes to collect yourself, then get back in here for your show. In twenty minutes, you'll either have my cock in your mouth for a blowjob or you'll be screaming your head off as you find out what it's like to run fresh out of the slack that I'm giving you. Now go."

Marek kept his head down as he listened to the man speak. He knew that Tichy was giving him a second chance. A rare second chance – in fact, an almost unprecedented one. Tichy was trying, too. They were both trying. So why couldn't he just do it? Why did he even still have the right side of his brain messing with him? Everything the man said was true. The day hadn't started off well, but it had been fine after that. Parts of it had even been good, including lunch and his nap. He even had a truce and a deal. All Tichy wanted was for him to suck his cock – well, that and beg for it. Marek could do those things. He needed to do those things. The left and right sides of this brain were battling, but why? Why?

Marek rose to his feet and left the room, the balls moving around inside his rectum as he did so. He didn't say anything. He didn't dare to look at the man. He turned his face away so his expression wouldn't show to be misinterpreted.

He went to the bathroom. His erection had long since subsided, so he used the toilet. He flushed. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face, once, twice, three times, four. He felt better. He dried his face and waited some more. He thought about a lot of things. The truce, the sack, Tichy. Ludmila, the break, Vacenovice. His mother, the photos, Radek. Tomáš. Borek. The cane. He was anxious. He already knew what he needed to do. He just wasn't sure he could do it.

Tears came to his eyes, and he used the towel to wipe them angrily away. What was wrong with him? Was he cracking? Why now? Was he going to end up a lunatic like his mom? Was he just going to give up and let Tichy torture and beat him until he lost his mind?

Marek knew that he needed to get a grip on himself quickly. He tried desperately to clear his head of bad and self-destructive thoughts. He applied another splash of water to his face, then dried himself again with the towel. Pausing, with his eyes closed, he counted slowly to ten, then looked at himself in the mirror.

"You can do this," he whispered to himself.

Steeling himself, Marek came out of the bathroom. Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled back to the man. He looked up at his nemesis and took a deep breath.

"Please Mr. Tichy," he began. "Please let me suck your cock. I want to suck it. I really, really want to suck it. I want to slide my tongue all over it and lick it. I want to use my lips. I want to put it in my mouth and throat really deep. I want to suck it really good. Please let me suck it. I want your cum in my mouth. I want to taste it. I want to swallow your cum. Please let me suck it." And please, please don't cane me, he added silently to himself.

Would it be good enough? The boy honestly wasn't sure. The left corner had won for now, but for how long? Had his effort carried the day? He desperately wanted to avoid the cane. He felt like he was going to lose his mind.

"Don't get upset when I make you practice this more often," said Tichy. "That was barely a passing grade, especially after all the tricks and hints I just taught you in the photo-shoot, but it'll do for today," he said with a smile as his cock reluctantly twitched and stirred toward a partial erection.

"Permission granted," the man added. "Now make sure I don't regret giving you a second chance, will you? Be good, and since you added specific details to your begging, be sure to make good on all of them. Tongue all over it. Lips. Going deep. Sucking 'really good.' Holding my cum in your mouth so you can taste it. That's quite a lot not to mess up, so take your time. Be careful. Be good. Now suck."

Tichy spoke in a tone that implied he was doing the boy a favor by helping to save him from a far, far worse alternative, and this time, that truly was the case. Classes wouldn't resume for another two weeks. Tichy already had calculated that he literally could cane Marek's ass bloody, and the kid still would have time to heal before he next needed to sit down. He'd never taken the cane to a boy that severely before, especially not a boy as young and small as Marek, but it had been a desire of his for many years, and the darker parts of his soul were quite eager to give it a try. The thought of hearing Marek scream in agony as he applied stroke after vicious stroke to the boy's little ass literally made Tichy's cock quiver. He would rape that little ass hard and deep right afterwards, too, making Marek feel every thrust. For now, however, he sat on the chair and looked down to observe carefully how they boy made use of his lucky second chance.

Marek was relieved that his effort had been sufficient. He really didn't want the cane, and that was what had tipped the scales. The second chance he had received from Tichy had saved him, and he knew it. Without those ten minutes in the bathroom, he would have gotten the cane for sure. He would have ended up giving Tichy his blowjob in terrible pain, his eyes red and tear-filled, and his nose running with snot. He was glad to have avoided that, at least for now.

He still had the actual sucking to do, but that would take much less effort and far less mental anguish than the begging. He wasn't sure exactly why he was getting so many chances. Maybe it was a truce dividend, maybe it was just because Tichy didn't feel like administering a beating. Whatever it was, Marek had survived despite himself, really. He knew that his begging hadn't been very good. He hadn't even thought about doing any of the things that Tichy had made him do for the last set of photos. Was that why Tichy had made him pose like that? To train him how to look like a slut? He'd have to remember that for the next time, because there was sure to be a next time.

"Yes, sir," he replied, as he finished listening to Tichy's instructions and wrapped his hand around the base of the man's cock. Licking the glans with broad strokes, he got the thing wet and prepared to take it in his mouth. He thought about dinner. He thought about removing the balls from his ass. If he could get through this, the rest of the day was looking okay from here on, assuming that the truce continued to hold. That was the best Marek could hope for, and he knew it.

Tichy nodded and relaxed. This was more like it. Allowing Marek to compose himself – even though it meant sitting in the room by himself for over ten minutes, doing the crossword puzzle in Rude Pravo, killing time, and getting angrier by the minute – seemed to have been the right approach. Marek had begged promisingly, responded adequately when he was granted permission, and now he was licking Tichy's cock quite nicely in preparation for the main event.

Tichy's penis responded quickly, growing, swelling, and soon pointing upwards, rigid and large like it tended to get when it received attention from Marek. The man glanced at his watch. They still had half an hour at least before it would be necessary to go and make a quick supper, so holding out on the boy a bit – relaxing, breathing, and making sure not to tense up and cum too soon – seemed like a good plan. He would make Marek really work for his prize, especially since he had only just barely avoided a caning that he never would forget for as long as he lived. It was with that attitude that Tichy spread his legs wider and leaned his elbows onto his thighs – almost like he was taking a dump – as Marek licked his now rigid and upwardly pointing glans.

Marek knew all the tricks that the man liked, and he proceeded to employ them. After licking the man's shaft wet, he bobbed a few times with the cockhead in his mouth, spreading the wetness, coating Tichy's glans and shaft. Then he began his plunges, taking 5" [13 cm] of Tichy's head and shaft into his mouth and throat, holding it there, then pulling off and using his tongue to swirl and tease. His rhythm was erratic for this one, sometimes bob-bob-plunge, sometimes bob-plunge in equal doses, and sometimes a few plunges all in a row. It depended how he felt and when he needed a breath.

As Marek sucked and tongued, he thought again about how nice a blowjob probably had to feel. He'd gotten a taste of one from Ludmila, and even thought it was only a taste – delivered by the garbage-truck of a girl – it had been nice, but Smallpox didn't know how to give one at all. She had barely used her tongue and seemed more interested in the taste of Marek's cock, or the fact that she was doing it, or whatever. All that had probably proven to be a good thing, because if she had been at all skilled or had persisted in her effort, Marek would have cum, and Tichy would have ruined him for it. On the other hand, he was so horny, it might almost have been worth it.

He sucked Tichy, going neither slow nor fast, knowing that Tichy had a lot of say on the question of when he would cum. Marek knew that if he were being stimulated like this, he would cum on the second plunge, but Tichy had already cum two times today. It was a bit of an unfair advantage, Marek thought, as he plunged down again and held the familiar organ in his throat.

"Mhmm, you're really, really good at this," complimented Tichy. "I told you before and I'm telling you again, you're an excellent cocksucker, Marek. This is an excellent effort, and maybe a bit of talent or luck thrown in there, too, but you're doing all the right things and it feels amazing. Slow down just a little. Fewer deep ones. I want to enjoy this. Relax into it. Make it last," Tichy demanded shamelessly.

"Now, do you remember the photo shoot?" he continued. "I know from your facial expressions between the photos that it felt just confusing and silly, but remember those poses? Do you remember your mouth making a cute little 'O' with your tongue sticking out, or even wagging out of your mouth almost like a little happy-puppy tail? Do you remember making puppy eyes for me, with your eyebrows raised in the middle, dipped on the sides, like you were really begging, puppy style? Do you remember licking your lips? Do you remember making your eyes really wide for me and making them twinkle? That's all fun for me to see. It's sexy and cute. And while you may hate the idea of faking that and of actively tempting me into sex, I want you to think about something: When you're sucking me, I'm happy, and I'm not hurting you or testing your obedience, or pushing your limits, none of that, am I? So, you are far better off acting the part of a little boy slut because it's the less-painful option each and every time," explained Tichy in the kind of detail he probably should have used before to make things easier for Marek to understand.

"With words, it's similar," Tichy continued. "Flip it in your mind. Imagine you're begging to be allowed to cum yourself. To be allowed the best, most amazing thing, like a special treat – like a feast after you've been hungry for a long time. Details are good, like today. Descriptive words. Like 'big cock,' and descriptions like 'gag on it,' or as you said, 'take it deep', or 'taste your cum.' That's all good. But your tone matters, too. Work on making it sound like you really want it, like you're craving it, like you need it, like it's the best thing that's going to happen today, which it may well be. Understood?"

As he sucked, Marek listened to what Tichy had to say, including everything from his praise to his expectations to his recommendations. The man really did seem to be trying to teach him things. Marek knew the kind of temper Tichy had, and the boy also knew that he had given him plenty of reasons to go ape shit on his ass, but Tichy had refrained. The man had been nice pretty much all day. The truce was holding. To Marek, it seemed like they were both trying, seeking out an equilibrium that would allow Marek to survive the next two weeks. He supposed that the man simply could not be as Tichy-like all the time as he was during their punishment sessions together. If not, Tichy would just end up killing him, because Marek knew his own limits. The right half of his brain would take control, and there would be no saving him then from Tichy's wrath. The man would beat him to a bloody pulp.

No, they were both trying. It was all ridiculously unfair, of course. Marek shouldn't have to be trying this hard merely to survive, and the baseline of what that survival required – sex on demand for Tichy to avoid beatings and tortures – was outrageous. But it was also reality. He could do as the man asked along reasonable truce lines, or he could be forced to do it anyway after being dragged through the four corners of hell along the way. Marek was glad that the left half of his brain had won out this time. There was still hope for a nice meal after he had swallowed his protein snack from Tichy.

Marek listened as he sucked and sucked as he listened to Tichy drone on about posing for the photographs. What the man said made perfect sense: If he had done it for the photos, he could do it for real. Marek didn't like being called a boy slut, but he was well past the point of trying to pretend that he wasn't. He was Tichy's boy slut, at least for now. When Tichy asked him if he understood, Marek nodded his affirmation with the man's cock still in his mouth. Tone mattered. He got it. He understood.

Tichy relaxed. This was mighty fine. He was having his cock sucked just the way he liked it, right after Marek had begged to do it and affirmatively responded to instructions about future, better begging. This was just about perfect. With his cock still being attended to, Tichy reached to the side and lit up, then slowly and contemplatively smoked his Startka into a smattering of ash and a stub in his ashtray. When he was finished with the cigarette, he reached down to stroke and caress Marek's hair.

"I'm going to do something that's going to make your job a little harder, or seem to anyway," he warned. "I'll gently pinch your nose shut. Don't fight it, and don't get angry. I want a sloppier, messier blowjob, and I want longer, more stretched-out, up-and-down motions, and this will achieve both. I'll also be more satisfied and happier because I'll know you're overcoming an extra difficulty to please me. So, once again, don't get mad, don't fuss or fret, just take it and make the best of it," he said and then his hand slipped down to Marek's nose and gently but firmly and definitively closed both his nostrils. He rested his hand on the boy's forehead letting it move with Marek's head, neither pulling him down nor limiting his motion, but it made the kid's breathing more difficult, even with just a bit of his cock in Marek's throat, and intensified the amount of drooling, gagging and general sloppiness, just as he had warned. He smiled and observed how the boy would manage.

Marek had been going along just fine. It certainly wasn't the best blowjob he had ever given Tichy, but it was well into the higher level of better blowjobs that he recently had demonstrated he could give. Effort was being given, attempts at pleasing the man were being made, and Marek himself was in a decent place. If this had been the first of Tichy's three daily cums, things might have been different, but with just this one to go and dinner straight ahead, things were looking up for the boy on this day, or at least there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He could get through this. The battle between the left and right sides of his brain seemed to have been placed on hold.

And then Tichy decided to make it harder. He even announced his plan. Why? Why? Why would anyone want a sloppier, messier blowjob unless it was purely to fuck with the kid who was giving it to you? Hadn't Marek vomited enough times for the man? It wasn't fucking fair, and it didn't even make sense. Marek's mind screamed with the unfairness of it.

But Tichy did it, anyway. Marek tensed as he felt his airflow being cut off. That was not something he liked, and a wave of anxiety washed over him. It wasn't panic inducing, but it did prompt a feeling of doom, dread, and not being in control. It went well beyond just an obstructed air flow. To the claustrophobic kid, it was a harbinger of the things Tichy could do to him whenever he pleased.

Why was Tichy doing this to him? Why now? Why? Why? He had been trying all day. Tichy didn't want him to get angry, but he had every right to be angry. He had been trying so hard to keep the truce in place, but Tichy just kept upping the ante. He was behaving exactly like a bully, trying to get a rise out of Marek, trying to get the boy to break the truce and take the first figurative swing.

Marek tried to breathe through his mouth, but he could do so only at the very end of a withdrawal. No longer could he begin his breathing before he had completely withdrawn and complete it halfway down the man's shaft. Now it was just a short window of breathing on the upstroke. It didn't give him enough air. It wasn't enough to keep up the frequency of his plunges, so Marek did more bobs and fewer plunges, demonstrating the stupidity of this game.

"No," declared Tichy with an ominous smile. "My point wasn't to make things harder so you could start slacking off to compensate. My point is I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself, to do better, to perform and impress me more. Now, down, down, take a deep plunge," said Tichy with another smile as he pulled the boy down and held him there, forcing him to gag deliciously until he turned dark-red in the face from lack of oxygen. When he thought Marek had had enough, he let go of the boy's nose.

Marek's body tensed as Tichy reprimanded him and forced him down on his cock, holding him there well beyond what the boy himself would have done, well past the point of comfort, well past the point of unhappiness, and right to the border of panic. Then he simply let go. Marek pulled up, gasping for air, red-faced, his heart racing, his lungs burning, and his eyes glimmering. He gave an audible little moan of fear as he caught his breath before quickly resuming the blowjob the normal way. He was so close to being finished. He couldn't blow it now so to speak, so he bobbed and plunged desperately, using his tongue as he tried to get the man off.

"Well done," said Tichy. "And our time-killing stretch is basically over, so how about you make me cum now," he demanded oh so casually as he reveled in his power over the hapless, helpless, unfortunate kid. "No more added challenges, just make me cum. Except remember that you begged to taste it and get it on your tongue, so that's where I want to see it when you're finished," he added as he leaned back a bit, leaving Marek to finish without any further challenges or special requirements. He was getting close; three to five minutes of full-on effort from the boy almost certainly would bring him to orgasm.

Marek was back to being not very happy after being forced down on Tichy's cock, but he fought the self-destructive thoughts with everything he had. Just suck, he warned himself. Just suck.

Some three minutes later, Tichy huffed and held his breath, his cock dry pumping inside the boy's mouth. The man actually pushing the boy's forehead back to help him catch the cum in his mouth before he erupted with a decent-sized load, especially for his third one of the day. His cum was thick, musky, and oily, with a glue-like consistency, and as he spurted it into the boy's mouth, he grunted and huffed some more as he gasped for breath. When he was finished cumming, he pushed Marek all the way off.

Tichy hadn't been lying, and it didn't take long. Marek could tell from the way the man's cock reacted and his balls contracted that he was going to cum – Tichy wasn't exactly good at hiding it – so the boy wasn't surprised when the man pushed his head back so he could take the entire load of bitter, viscous liquid in his mouth. He held it there, tasting the flavors, knowing that he had to play with it to Tichy's satisfaction.

"Now practice your slutty expressions," Tichy demanded. "You love the taste. You crave it. You're hungry for it. Eyes, mouth, face – beg for my permission to eat it. No words. Just tell me with your expressions and mannerisms how much you like and want my cum. And once you swallow, remember your rule list," winked the man, who actually was helping the boy not get into any more trouble today.

Marek was almost done, so he did what the man instructed, first showing his work, then giving puppy-dog eyes, then looking dreamy, all the while holding Tichy's cum in his mouth and the man's softening cock in his right hand. He tried to look … hungry for it. Mmmmmm. Cum. Yummy. He nodded. And when he thought he had done enough of that stupid fucking shit, he pointed to his mouth, made his cutest little puppy-dog face, and nodded at the man for permission to let him swallow the disgusting fluid down. All the while, he tried to make it look like cum was his favorite beverage. Meanwhile, he quickly reviewed the rules in his head since he couldn't see the door where they were posted.

Tichy let the boy entertain him just long enough, then simply nodded and watched him swallow. He could almost see the cogs turning in the youngster's head, but Marek was still holding onto his slimy cock so presumably he still intended to clean it. Tichy didn't really want to have to punish the kid for another violation, but he already had resolved to do so if Marek failed to clean him properly and forced his hand. There was no shit on his cock this time, which meant that Rule 5 remained fully in effect.

For Marek, it finally was over except for the cleaning part. He swallowed the entire, frothy, cum-and-saliva mouthful down in a single large gulp that was audible enough for the man to hear. He winced a little at the disgusting taste. He didn't think he would ever get used to it. He didn't want to get used to it, but if Tichy had his way, in just four short years, he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore! Probably. Maybe. He leaned over and began to lick the underside of the man's cock. It really wasn't in need of much cleanup, and he did it mostly for show, but he was almost, almost done, so he cleaned it thoroughly even though it was unnecessary. He cleaned to avoid being punished.

Tichy watched the kid gulp the load into his belly, and then Marek immediately cleaned him up. Just a few slurping clean-up licks later, Tichy found himself feeling well-satisfied and pleased. He ruffled the handsome boy's hair.

"Excellent job, young man," Tichy praised the boy. "Do you like tlačenka? I don't want to force something on you that you hate," shrugged the man ironically. Tlačenka was delicious and widely loved in the nation, but he was aware that kids sometimes took an issue with the savory, salty jelly as the consistency was too close to that of German gummy bears, which were of course sweet.

The boy deflated a bit as Tichy asked him about tlačenka. Marek wasn't a fan. He ate it, but it wasn't a favorite meal. He had been looking forward to a nice dinner, but that wasn't going to happen now.

"It's okay, sir," he said unenthusiastically, but he appreciated the fact that the man had asked him. He could eat it. It beat some of the slop they served in the canteen.

"Good," said Tichy. He didn't want the boy to poke around it and leave it, or eat it and toss it, but he wasn't going to change his plans just because Marek didn't sound excited about it. And so it was, a slice of tlačenka and a few slices of the uherák, a slice of bread with roasted lard on it, a little bit of onion, and a glass of water for Marek. Just a sliver of uherák but two biggish chunks of tlačenka with lots more onion, bread, lard, and beer for Tichy. It was done in five minutes. It was filling and good. Marek had to eat kneeling on a small stool, because Tichy still wouldn't let him pull the balls out of his ass. They still were deeply inserted in the kid's rectum, the ring sticking out between Marek's butt cheeks.

"When you're done with the dishes, we'll go wash and those will come out in the shower. I'll spray some water on your pucker, so they come out smoothly," explained Tichy. It was a good point, as the cream around Marek's anus had largely dried up and turned kind of flakey and crusty, and without the warm water to assist, it would have hurt the boy a lot more to remove them.

Despite his lukewarm interest in the tlačenka, Marek enjoyed the dinner immensely. He was glad that he had overcome his dark mood and gotten through Tichy's demands and instructions. He now had a solid, full day over with, and the truce continued to remain in effect. Even eating on his knees with the little balls stuffed in his butt was alright, given that he was eating the uherák. Marek thought that he could eat the stuff for every meal. If Tichy let him eat uherák all the time, he might just agree to be the man's sex slave. Well, probably not, but still. He liked the flavorful salami a lot.

Afterwards, Marek did the dishes, cleaned up, and prepared to climb into his pajamas for bed – but not really. He remained naked, which he knew was how he was pretty sure he was going to spend the entire two weeks in Tichy's apartment. The. Entire. Two. Weeks. It still seemed very ominous to Marek, like a death sentence, but so far – fingers crossed – it had been okay. It had been not nearly as bad as he had thought it would be when Tichy's army friend had dragged him back to the school. Then, Marek had been too scared even to feel scared. It had been like the time Tichy found him alone in the equipment room in the gym, hiding in the dark behind the old desk, trying desperately not to breathe …

They showered together after dinner. Tichy made Marek soap and rinse him down, but Marek was okay with that. The boy much preferred cleaning the man's body with his hands than with his mouth and tongue. As he ran his fingers all over Tichy's naked frame, Marek couldn't help but be impressed with the man's physique. Tichy kept himself fit, there was no question about it. Marek could feel the hard muscles under the man's skin, which made him wonder once again why he had ever thought it would be a good idea to disobey him.

After Tichy was clean, the balls were extracted from Marek's ass. Tichy had been right once again: The warm water helped, but his anus burned from the extraction, nonetheless. After the shower they brushed their teeth. It seemed like they were headed for an early bedtime, but Tichy announced that it was reading hour. He pulled out a Karel May western book and made Marek study for his re-takes. Marek chose to work on his Russian. He knew that Tichy could help him with that, but he didn't ask. He read Russian vocabulary until his eyelids started to grow heavy despite his earlier nap.

Tichy caught him as his head drooped at one point.

"Well, you're not going to learn much like that," said the man. "I guess tomorrow morning will be a better time for studying. Come here. We have a problem to address before we go to sleep," said Tichy calmly and softly.

With Tichy, there was always a catch, always something else, even at bedtime. Marek's blood ran cold as Tichy mentioned a "problem." Marek knew full well that "we" did not have a problem – it was he alone who had the problem – but what could it be this time? What had he done? And what was Tichy going to do to him?

The man pulled open one of the dresser drawers out and extracted a weird garment. It looked like a pair of heavyweight gym shorts with straps and strings running through it. The shorts were made out of a coarse, grey, wool-and-tweed fabric. They looked rough and itchy.

Marek looked on with dread as Tichy displayed the strange-looking shorts for his perusal. They were kid-sized and obviously intended for him; there was no way that Tichy could fit in them. They looked medieval and homemade, and they reminded Marek of the sack. It was scary how many different items and garments Tichy had available to use on Marek, just as it was disturbing how much preparation and planning Tichy put into his punishments and tortures.

"You've still not earned a cum," explained Tichy, "but you've been close several times today and I'm worried that you may have an orgasm in your sleep. You know that if you do, all hell will be unleashed on your cock and balls, and that would only be partly fair because you can't really control yourself when you're sleeping. So, this is a possible solution," he continued. "It's a choice that you can make while you are still awake. If you wear these to sleep tonight, I can pretty much guarantee that you won't cum, and if you somehow still do, I might even overlook it – so long as you don't actually try to sneak a wank on me – but they are not at all comfy, which is the point. If you don't wear them and you cum during the night, you'll be in trouble. Big. Hot. Trouble. So, do you want to wear them or not?"

Tichy paused to let his words sink in and allow Marek a moment to consider his decision. He had decided not to tell the boy about the humping episode from last night or to reveal how close Marek had appeared to be to an orgasm before Tichy had intervened to prevent it. Marek could make whatever decision he wanted to make on his own and bear the consequences for that decision, whatever they were. The man merely was giving him some options.

"It's your choice, but you can't change your mind," continued Tichy. "If you don't get to cum tomorrow, you can choose again tomorrow evening. But let's hope you manage to earn one, so we can both relax a little, hmm?" said Tichy with a smile.

Marek's anxiety level diminished somewhat as Tichy explained the purpose of the shorts. He reached out to touch the coarse fabric and made a skeptical face. The shorts would not be comfortable to sleep in, and if he wore them to bed, Tichy wouldn't be spooning up to him for sure. The truth was, Marek hadn't really minded when Tichy snuggled up against him in bed. He would never admit that to anyone of course, not even to himself, but in the weirdest form of coincidence ever, when Tichy was close beside him like that, Marek somehow felt safe. He felt like nobody could get through Tichy to get to him. Not the other boys to beat him up or hurt him, and somehow, not even Tichy himself. He felt protected in Tichy's arms. In a paradox that was difficult even for him to fathom, Marek could swear that he slept more soundly with Tichy than he did on his own.

He also hadn't had a wet dream since that time with the panties. That had been weeks ago, well over a month, and he had been very horny for most of that stretch. He thought he would be okay. Surely, he would wake up if something happened or certainly before it went too far.

He shook his head no. "No thank you, sir," Marek replied. It was nice to have been given a choice, and he had made it. He felt quite confident in his decision.

The man shrugged and nodded in acceptance. He had given Marek a choice and Marek had chosen. Of course, the boy still didn't know about his dream-state humping of the duvet that Tichy had stopped from escalating toward a forbidden orgasm.

"That's fine but don't make excuses if you cum that it was out of your control; this here is where you could have taken control," said Tichy.

Tichy quickly aired the room; it was damp and stuffy and smelled of sex. The temperatures outside had plummeted, and it was now frosty and cold both during the day and especially at night. There was no snow falling this evening, but a bright, crystal-clear sky portended the arrival of a harsh, overnight frost. He shook out the duvet, closed the window, and went to take a piss.

With the boy preceding him under the covers, Tichy slipped into the bed and reached for the switch. Suddenly all was dark, quiet, and cool apart from the warmth of his body as he spooned Marek. Tichy enjoyed snuggling close to the naked youngster, and it occurred to him that once Marek was back in the dorm, he was going to miss sleeping with the boy. He would miss other things too, like cumming several times a day and being rimmed whenever he wanted the sensation, but he also would miss this level of intimacy with the kid. It was a shame that their time together couldn't last even longer, but at least he had two weeks to spend with the handsome boy.

"Good night, then," sighed Tichy. He was sleepy as well as spent and just sobering up from the beer. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he kissed the back of Marek's head. Then he shifted slightly away and drifted into a deep slumber.

Tichy's body felt nice and warm to Marek. They both were clean and soft from the shower, and the bedding was nice and crisp and clean. The boy liked being held in Tichy's arms, not only because he knew with certainty that Tichy was done hurting him for the day, but also because it just felt good. The kiss confused him, but Marek didn't have time to dwell on it as he also fell off to sleep quickly, and once again his dreams were not like the nightmares he had been having before. Nobody chased him or beat him up. Nobody crushed him under mattresses or suffocated him. Nobody singled him out in class or tripped him. Nobody tormented him. He slept deeply and well.

But Marek also dreamed, moving in and out of REM cycles several times. Each time, his young cock erected harmlessly. The third time in REM, he had a lovely, delicious dream, the exact details of which he would not be able to remember when he woke up, but wake up he did, just as his needy, pent-up boycock finished ejaculating the third of five well-volumed spurts into the mattress that he had been humping in his sleep. He didn't even try to stop the remaining spurts after he awakened. Behind him, Tichy didn't even move.

Marek knew that he was dead. There was no fixing this or taking it back. He couldn't even clean the bed sheets with Tichy still sleeping on them. He contemplated death as his fate for a few moments before deciding to undergo it in the morning. Within a few minutes of cumming, he had fallen back asleep.

Tichy woke up with a yawn, earlier than Marek, and pulled the duvet off them both. He was going to examine the sheets anyway, but the smell of cum was obvious and immediate. One glance was all it took to confirm what had happened. He shook Marek awake.

"God damn it, boy," he grumbled. Tichy didn't even seem mad. It was almost like he was more disappointed than angry about the whole thing, at least right there in the first moment. "Go take a piss. Then corner time, over there," he pointed towards the wall where Marek had struggled to keep his cock hard the day before.

Marek remembered what had happened instantly upon being awakened. He sprung from the bed with a dire look on his face and stood chagrinned as Tichy chewed him out. The boy had nothing to say. What could he say? The man wasn't going to listen to his apologies. He couldn't deny it – the evidence was all over the sheets. He couldn't claim it was an accident, because Tichy had given him a way to avoid it. Tichy was going to beat him for it; there was no way around it, but would that end the truce? Did the whole day have to be a disaster because of one accident? Tichy had to know he hadn't done it on purpose.

The worst part about it was that it hadn't been all that great of a cum, all things considered. He'd been asleep for the first half of it, and the second half had been contact-free – as if he were draining a sink or something. It had been very unfulfilling compared to all the times in recent days he had wanted to cum. He wished he had done it right and enjoyed it, but he hadn't, not really, and now he was going to be beaten for it all the same.

Marek went to the bathroom to pee and then knelt in corner time. He was quite worried about his future. Tichy had warned him repeatedly about cumming without permission, and the boy knew that he had made a huge mistake by not wearing the shorts to bed last night. Even if they had made no difference to the outcome, declining Tichy's offer made what had happened looked far less like an accident and far more like a deliberate choice.

Tichy needed to clear his head. He went to the kitchen and made himself a pot of coffee. He took his time. When he was ready, he came back to the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed, slurping the hot, dark liquid as he gazed at the naked youngster on his knees with his forehead pressed to the wall. Marek heard rather than saw the man return to the bedroom.

"Well, you chose, and you chose wrong, so now you get to choose again," Tichy announced to the kneeling, recalcitrant boy. "Would you prefer a whipping of your cock and balls with a full-sized whip, or do we give you the snip?" asked Tichy. He acted exactly as if the latter scenario – castrating the boy – was an entirely realistic option, and perhaps it was. Presumably, he would do it right here in the bedroom, perhaps with a pair of scissors or a kitchen knife. He didn't seem to be joking.

Marek wasn't sure what the man meant by a full-sized whip, but it sounded dire, and he was sure that it would hurt. The boy half-seriously considered the snip option, weighing it against the beating Tichy had promised. At least if he got snipped, he wouldn't have to worry about having this problem ever again. He knew enough about castration to know that much, but he wasn't sure how much of his stuff Tichy would cut off, and it seemed like it would be a bloody business, so he didn't give it much serious thought. It would have to be the beating, which Marek was dreading. The boy also wanted to ask Mr. Tichy whether if by cumming, he had broken the truce, but that wasn't the kind of thing you could just ask the man. It wasn't like they had ever formalized their agreement. The boy was pretty sure he would know soon enough whether it still was in effect.

What he wanted to say was "none of the above." What he said instead was "I'll choose the whipping, sir." He didn't like the sound of his own words even as he said them.

Tichy sighed. Unlike with some of the humiliations, sex, and physical punishments he had dished out to the kid, he didn't seem at all pleased, keen, gleeful, or in any way excited about what he had to do now. In fact, when he told Marek to stand up and lie down on the bed, he seemed quite concerned and resolute. His jaw tensed as the boy drew near.

The boy's anxiety only grew as he stood up from corner time and saw the way Tichy was looking at him. The man looked almost apprehensive. Why? His look concerned Marek, and his worries only increased as the man began to position him for his punishment. When Tichy spoke, his voice did not sound at all normal. Marek almost wished Tichy sounded angrier because that's how the boy expected him to sound. This version of Tichy seemed more unhappy than angry, and yet, his words were chilling and bespoke of a calamity that was about to occur. Marek felt his blood chill and his skin cool. His expression was one of worry and dread.

"I know you're sorry," Tichy acknowledged as he slipped two pillows under Marek's butt and began to tie him spread eagled like he had for the tickling the day before, except with his hips thrust up and his legs more widely spread. He took more time today, making sure to loop each rope around Marek's wrists at least half a dozen times and tying the knots so that the bondage was firm but not too tight. He tied the other ends to the legs of the bed so there was almost no slack for the nervous boy to wiggle or writhe.

"But some truths need to be learned bone-deep, Marek," he told the boy. "Some truths you can't just say or repeat because it's just not enough. I know you've been good, or at least you've very much been trying to be. But you knew this was important, that it mattered, and you took a risk and failed. I will not go easy on you with this. I likely will for the rest of the day afterwards, but not with this. This will hurt and teach you, on a gut level, that cumming without my permission is not okay. It's just not an option for you."

Tichy opened a drawer in the bedroom and pulled out an old leather belt. Folding it over a few times, he slipped it into Marek's mouth as a bit so the kid wouldn't hurt his teeth and tongue. Marek's heart rate and anxiety went through the roof at that. His eyes were wide. What hell was Tichy going to unleash on him that he needed something to bite down on?

When Tichy eventually pulled the whip out of his closet, the words "full-sized" came into sharper focus. The butt of the whip was thick enough to be a handful, and the entire thing was longer from tip to handle than the man was tall. This whip was made for pain, not noise, so the hitch had been removed, along with the fall itself and the popper. Only the braided thong remained. Tichy took a deep breath and stretched the thong through his left hand, smoothing it, and readying himself to deliver the first blow.

The 12-year-old made a pitiable moan and almost fainted when he saw the bullwhip. It didn't look like something that could be used on a person, much less on a young boy. It was black and snake-like, and the braided leather made it look sinister. Marek shook his head slowly as he stared from the whip to Tichy in disbelief. It had been an accident. He began to tremble, even as he thought that perhaps the man was just trying to scare him. If he was, it had worked. It was a good thing Marek had just peed or he might have lost control of his bladder when he saw the whip. His forehead suddenly felt wet with perspiration. Tichy wouldn't hit him with that, would he? Was he really going to? He couldn't, but when Marek looked back at the man to see, it seemed that, indeed, he was …

"You're getting at least six," said Tichy. "Just so you know, I'm still debating whether 12 or even 24 would be more appropriate, so if you know what's best for you, you'll keep that belt in your mouth and not say anything to piss me off. I'm not likely to miss your cock and balls but if I somehow do, that one will not count and will come again. If you pass out, I'll wait for you to come to for the rest of your punishment. You will not be untied, and the punishment will not be over, until delivered in full," announced the man.

Marek moaned in fear as Tichy announced his sentence. At least six blows? With that? On his penis and balls? He shook his head again in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to him. Tichy had to be joking. This had to be a set up just to scare him.

Marek's eyed widened in disbelief as the man positioned himself and readied the whip for action. It was in that moment that awareness dawned: Tichy was going to do it – Marek could tell it in the man's eyes. The boy's courage failed him, and his bladder released, leaving a small trickle of urine on his smooth abdomen that dribbled down onto the mattress below. Even his bowels felt weak. He looked on with horror as the man stood back and carefully arranged the whip. Marek felt a strange sense of detachment about the whole thing. It was almost as if he were hovering over the scene watching it play out as opposed to being a participant in it. But he was very much participating in it. Tichy had arranged him so that his penis and testicles formed the apex of his entire body and had spread the boy's legs so wide that there was no question where the whip would be aimed.

Tichy stepped back, almost to the door leading to the hallway, and positioned himself with legs apart, one forward, one sideways and back. He raised his right hand and guided the length of the whip with his left hand overhead. He had to adjust a few times to find a good enough angle and position so as not to hit the doorframe. Luckily for the deed about to be done, the ceiling was high, and the room was relatively spacious, because using a whip like this took a lot of space.

The boy blinked back tears as he tried to keep his eyes focused on Tichy and when the whip would come. He trembled in his binds. But when Tichy reared back and prepared to strike, Marek simply couldn't look. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, as every muscle in his body clenched against what he knew was coming.

Tichy moved his arm, wrist, and upper back at the same time, guiding the length of the whip initially with his other hand, then snapped his right wrist sharply, bringing the end of the whip down and breaking the sound barrier on his first try. The thong cracked like a gunshot and an almost imperceptible split moment later, the leather tip of it sliced into Marek's cock and balls.

C R A C K K K ! ! !

The rifle-shot sound of the whip breaking the sound barrier caused the boy to flinch even before the tail flayed him. Marek's body arched as a dull sensation hit him, followed by a biting, terrible, excruciating pain. It couldn't be described. The whip cut the boy's skin, leaving behind a shock of a red line that filled with dewdrops of blood even as Marek's genitals exploded with pain that was biting, cutting, and crushing all at once. Marek bit down on belt even as he screamed.

"Muuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" he shrieked as his body arched and writhed on the bed.

Tichy drew the whip back and waited. He wasn't going to whip continually and do all of this in half a minute. He paused to let the boy's pain marinate, then readied himself for another lash.

"Just so we are clear," Tichy said icily, "this really is your punishment for wanking in the truck. Perhaps it will be easier for you to think of it that way, as a delayed punishment. That's how angry you made me, Marek. That's how much I thought you deserved to be punished. You had already jizzed once in your panties without permission, and the truck wasted your 'strike two.' This is 'strike three,' and it's a cumulative punishment for all three of your mistakes, most importantly, for wanking in the stupid fucking truck," explained Tichy, not that he expected Marek to understand or take any rational thoughts in just then.

Marek raised his head to look at the state of his penis after just the first blow. It was striped red and literally bloody. The man was going to whip him bloody. He had not fully understood the penalty for wanking, but Tichy was explaining it now in full, both verbally and physically.

"You really shouldn't have run away, Marek," said Tichy as he continued to lecture the distraught boy. "You'd have far more slack left with me, far more mercy, far more pity. I'd have far less fury and determination to teach you to obey at any cost bubbling up inside me," the man added as he prepared to deliver another overhead blow.

C R A C K K K ! ! !

This time the whip landed diagonally, cutting mostly the underside of Marek's cock now, only just licking over his ball sack, but it was enough to leave a bloodied mark across his penis and lower belly.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Marek screamed as the whip bit down again, driving the air from his lungs, momentarily silencing him. The boy shuddered with the pain. It was staggering. It was indescribable. What Tichy was doing to him now was on a new level, even given what he had done to Marek before. The boy was honestly not sure he could survive six lashes with the whip. He also wasn't sure that he would have any male parts left when the man was done.

"You will not wank!" commanded Tichy. "You will not cum! You will do neither of those things without my explicit, clear, and specific permission or command. Your body will remember this pain and wake you, before you cum, if your dreams try and betray you in the future. You will not forget this. No part of you will ever forget this," said Tichy, as he prepared to land yet another blow.

Marek was hysterical with pain. He could hear Tichy lecturing him, but the words didn't fully register as he screamed his pain into the belt, his voice still two-toned but ragged now, as his vocal cords objected to the strain. He screamed nonstop as his tightly secured body writhed and fought against the binds. But he could barely move, and his body remained open and exposed to the horrible lash.

C R A C K K K ! ! ! This one was an especially hard lash that rammed down diagonally on Marek's testicles. He screamed, flinched, and arched as the lash seared him. His eyes rolled back with agony as he slipped away.

Tichy watched the boy buck once and pass out. He put the whip down, grabbed a cup of water, and sloshed it in Marek's face. He slapped the boy awake, made sure the bite was still in place, and got back in position. Passing out from pain was just a minor inconvenience in this whole process. It would not prevent the man from completing the prescribed punishment, nor delay it for very long.

Marek came to with a startle as Tichy doused his face with water and adjusted the belt in the child's mouth. The pain hit him again like a truck.

C R A C K K K ! ! ! Another deep scarlet lash. How long would these last? Perhaps a week, or for the deeper ones, perhaps a bit longer. But the memory of them? They would last for Marek's lifetime, and that was the point.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrr! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrr!" Marek screamed into the belt as the whip bit down AGAIN. Marek clenched his teeth and screamed again at the sight of his penis. His distraught, agonized, and slightly muffled voice was high-pitched and two-toned, sounding not unlike the steam whistle of a freight train moving through town in the dead of night.

"I control you," said Tichy calmly. "You will obey me. You will not avoid me, or my commands and rules and you will NOT! RUN! AWAY! EVER! AGAIN!" It seemed that a whole lot more held-back fury was being released through this punishment as Tichy shouted at the boy.

Marek was in torment. His mind was broken. He couldn't believe the pain, and he couldn't believe that this was happening to him. He didn't dare look again at his penis and testicles. He was sure that they were ruined. He bucked, writhed, and wiggled against his ligatures, but the man was an expert at ligatures, and even the 12-year-old's full strength amounted to nothing as the binds held him fast. His head flung about, sending droplets of water and tears flying into the air has the boy's two-toned, train-whistle screams of muffled agony continued.

Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrr! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrr! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrr!"

C R A C K K K ! ! ! Tichy watched Marek's eyes roll back into his skull as the kid lost consciousness once again. He lowered the whip. He applied more water, more slapping and shaking, more adjusting of the belt in the boy's mouth, and then he was back in position. He didn't intend to cut the boy any slack. Not now. Not today. Not with this.

The boy awakened once again to a splash of water to his beleaguered face. He was groggy now as Tichy adjusted the leather belt in his mouth and prepared the whip to inflict more torment. Marek had been rendered incoherent by the pain, but not mute. He continued to scream, although the duration and the tonality of his shrieks had changed from full-throated, energetic declarations of profound dismay, to exhausted, frayed, chest-and-tummy heaving squeals of unbearable pain and misery. The train-whistle character of his screams remained throughout.

Unfortunately for Marek, he remained conscious as the man delivered the final blow – C R A C K K K ! ! ! – and it felt no different from all the others. All 6 lashes had been off the boy's personal pain chart. There was no way to distinguish or grade absolute agony. His final shrieks sounded almost as if they were coming from a harmonica as opposed to the lungs and throat of a battered young boy.

It wasn't until delivering what he accepted had to be the last strike that Tichy realized he had really cut Marek open with the fifth lash, as a distinct trickle of bright red blood appeared at the base of the boy's testicles. Already there was a pink-red mist of blood droplets coating Marek from knees up towards roughly the line of his ribcage. Now there were several larger blotches of bright red blood over the boy's belly, a few streaks as far as his chest. The sheets were a mess of sweat, piss, and blood. Tichy would have to take them to Ludmila and bribe her to bleach them without showing them to her father.

The whole deed was done in under five minutes. When it was over, Tichy pulled the whip back and ran it through a towel to wipe blood off. There were probably microscopic droplets of Marek's blood everywhere now. It was fucking lucky that this wasn't a real crime scene for anyone to investigate, but here at the internat, Tichy was the law. No investigation was needed, nor would any take place.

Tichy reached for his extended first-aid kit and poured hydrogen peroxide over the whole of Marek's crotch, causing the entire area to fizz up like a just-pop bottle of a badly chilled champagne. Tichy didn't even bat an eyelid as the boy passed out again. At least he wasn't going to twitch for the next bit.

The skin right where Marek's ball sack met his dick was cut neatly in a way that wasn't going to scar too badly. It wasn't deep enough to warrant a hospital visit, but it needed stiches. Tichy picked up a stitching needle, threaded a sterile thread in and neatly and efficiently closed the wound. He could have done it with three stiches but chose to do six tiny, careful ones to reduce the risk of scarring. The sutures stopped the bleeding right away.

Marek had passed out again from the peroxide and remained that way. The boy's face looked remarkably calm and angelic as the man cleaned up the crime scene, for that's exactly what it was. The man had used a bullwhip to punish a child, bloodying the boy and his surroundings in the process. Marek's penis and scrotum were an ungodly mess. His body was splattered with blood droplets, as were the sheets of the bed to either side of his prone, unconscious body. Marek was mercifully unaware as the man stitched up his wound, then treated and bandaged his genitals. He remained spread-eagled, and he would stay that way until the man decided to free him.

Tichy dabbed the peroxide and blood away with a sterile piece of bandage. With Marek still out, he fetched his alum block and brush from the bathroom. Wetting the block with a few drops of water, he dabbed at the boy's battered, bruised, and bleeding cock and balls and the surrounding skin until the scarlet dewdrops stopped oozing blood. He treated the freshly sutured gash with a few drops of iodine, checked that Marek's tongue hadn't slipped to the back of his mouth where he could choke on it, and began a cleanup. He chucked the bandages and pads that he used, put away the first aid kit, and washed his hands. The bed still was a mess, but he wanted Marek tied up for a while longer, so the boy wasn't tempted to curl up or do something similarly unwise when he awoke.

After finishing with the cleanup, Tichy went into the kitchen and ate a good, hearty breakfast. Marek remained out for another 20 minutes as his overwrought brain and body rested from the ordeal. But before Tichy had finished eating, the boy's eyes fluttered open, and he re-entered the world of the living. The first thing that hit him, of course, was the pain.

Marek's rest had ended his screams, and even the urge and need to scream. Bound as tightly as he was, all he could do was lie there and contemplate the throbbing pain emanating from his bandaged groin. Tichy was gone. The man had left him here, bound, just as he had been for his punishment, with the exception that the belt was gone from his mouth. Marek felt cold. His hands were trembling in the ligatures. He shivered. From the kitchen, he heard silverware on a plate. He thought he could smell food, but his nostrils were clogged with snot and wetness.

Tichy had prepared breakfast for the boy, too. Tea with milk. Bread with butter and jam. He walked into the room with an unlit Startka in the corner of his mouth.

"Ah, you're awake," he said with a smirk.

Marek moaned in fear as the man entered the bedroom. He began to tremble uncontrollably. He couldn't speak for fear as the man approached the bed, but his eyes were wide as saucers.

"Will you manage to be sensible and not claw at your bits if I untie you now?" Tichy asked. He reached for the ropes and started to free the boy. Marek's left hand looked like it had been cut off from circulation a bit too much as the boy struggled in his bondage. Tichy slowly, carefully, and methodically began to remove the ligatures from Marek's limbs.

The boy's chest and tummy shook and heaved as he drew in shivery breaths while the man untied him. He began to hyperventilate. He didn't feel … right. He felt like his body, somehow, no longer belonged to him as it shook and trembled.

"I told you not to run away," Tichy lectured the boy, "but you fucking did. I told you not to cum without my permission, ever, but you fucking did, three separate times. I guess you didn't believe I was truly, deeply, honestly serious. Well, Marek 'Traitor's Son' Hurta, now you fucking know. Now you know you shouldn't have run away, shouldn't have wanked, and should have taken me up on my kind offer to help you to stick to your rules when I extended an olive branch to you last night," he said as he untied the boy's last limb. "Now you know."

Get up slowly," the man commanded. "You passed out, I don't even know how many times, you're bound to be woozy. I made your tea strong and very sugary. Go drink it. And eat your breakfast. I don't care if you stand or kneel; sitting down probably isn't a good idea but go drink and eat. And be a little dear and don't try to fuck with me out of some absurd sense of stubbornness. Letting you rest and recover is the sensible thing to do right now, so try not to be bloody idiot and make me change my mind," added Tichy somewhat ironically.

Untied now, shaking like a leaf, Marek brought his arms forward and closed his legs, and after a moment, he tried to sit up. It was a struggle. His groin roared with pain, but he managed to slide his feet to the floor. Using the bed for leverage, shaking, he stood. With a slight hunch, he began to walk slowly to the kitchen. He didn't want to eat, and his hands were shaking so badly that it was difficult, but he stood and did as the man had told him. His eyes glimmered with tears. He drank the tea, and he ate what the man had prepared for him. All of it.

Once Marek was fully untied and had moved off the pillow pile, Tichy slid onto the cleaner side of the bed, sighed deeply, and lit up. He smoked the Startka and relaxed, then rose to strip the bed. He stuffed the bundle of the bloodied sheets into a bag that he could pass off as something gym-related if he needed to and readied it by the door. He got dressed. When Marek was done eating, Tichy walked into the kitchen and gave the obviously distressed and traumatized boy a serious of short, almost monosyllabic instructions.

"Dishes. Bedsheets. Rest. But before lunch, you will know your six rules, word for word, as they are written down. Not sort of, not almost. Six rules. Every word. In any order. Each and every one of them. Without hesitation. That's it. You can read, study, or just lie and rest but if you do, set the alarm so you don't sleep through the rest of the morning. You don't want to fuck up again today. I'll test your knowledge at noon, right before lunch. Don't ask about the "or else" – just fucking memorize them. Every letter of every word. Stay in the bedroom except when you need the toilet or a drink of water. No stupid shit."

Shaking like a leaf and cringing, Marek listened to the man's instructions. He just couldn't stop trembling. His body didn't seem to be his own anymore. It was like when Mr. Tichy had first displayed the whip, and it seemed like Marek was looking down on the bedroom from above. Now it felt like he really wasn't in his own body. Maybe he had died. He wasn't sure. But it felt like someone else's body now, like he didn't belong in it. The body he didn't belong in was shaking uncontrollably. Marek wasn't at all sure he could make it move and do things. It was a very strange, disconnected, disembodied feeling.

He still hadn't spoken. Not a word. He wasn't sure that speaking would work. It was better not to try. Mr. Tichy didn't ask him anything that required a response. He was just telling. Marek listened.

And with that, Tichy left him. Marek did the dishes in a bit of a daze. He opened the bed and extracted the sheets he had obtained from Ludmila. There were blood droplets on the bed frame. Marek tried not to look at them as he made the bed. He absolutely refused to look at his penis.

When he was done with the bed, he stood before the rules. He couldn't stop shaking. He tried to memorize the words, but it was hard work. His mind was not focused, which was strange, because he wasn't thinking about anything else. He was concentrating on the rules and reading them, but the memory part – it wasn't working the way it should. He stood for over 30 minutes, his shaking finally subsiding. Then he knelt on the floor, resting his arms on the bed as he continued to stare at the rules. Eventually, he thought he had them memorized, but he couldn't be sure.

He stood up carefully, moved slowly to his book bag, and extracted his notebook and a pen. Back to the bedroom, he practiced writing the rules on blank paper, testing himself. Over and over, he wrote the rules, checking his work. The first words he spoke were to say the rules aloud softly, eyes closed, whispering. Then he wrote them out again. And again. And again, crouched kneeling at the side of the man's bed.

No one was at the laundry when Tichy arrived, so he went back outside and around, and threw a snowball at Ludmila's bedroom's window.

"Lu? I need a favor," he said with a wink when she came to the window.

Ludmila beamed. She liked being called Lu – it was like being in a Western! She liked it so much better than being called Smallpox.

She dashed out of the flat to the laundry. She was a little disappointed that the favor was so small and ordinary, but Tichy urged her to do the laundry straight away and to bleach it, and when she unfolded the sheets, her eyes went wide.

"Stando?" she asked the man in near disbelief. "What on Earth happened?"

Tichy shrugged in reply. "Someone was being a very bad boy and isn't going to be anymore," he explained simply.

Ludmila gulped. She liked the idea of curing boys of being brats once and for all, but the size of the blood-splatter pattern on the sheets made her spine tingle and her blood run cold, raising goosebumps on her skin. She wondered idly if perhaps Marek hadn't been exaggerating the extent of what was being done to him after all. She would be sure to interrogate the boy the next time she encountered him. For a moment she wondered if she would see him again or if Tichy meant he had killed him. She felt strange for a moment – a little scared, but included. Later she would find out more but for now, she had some cleaning up to do.

They said their good-byes, and Ludmila proceeded to spray the sheets with bleach and put them in an extra-hot wash while Tichy grabbed his cross-country skis and did a two-hour outing in the nearest part of the mountains, keeping up a good speed throughout to get a good workout in and burn off some of his aggression. He was still angry and worked up from Marek's indiscretions, and he wanted to get that out of his system before he next saw the boy. Failing to do so could be bad for them both, especially so for Marek.

At the end of his workout Tichy made his way into Brod. The Jednota was open, so he stopped to buy some fresh foods, mainly rolls and bread.

With Tichy gone, Marek ended up having the rest of the morning entirely to himself. He had not moved from his kneeling position by the bed in over two hours when the man returned to the apartment shortly before noon.

Tichy took off his shoes and wet clothes, then ducked into the bedroom to check on Marek. The boy was kneeling on the floor, evidently studying something from papers arrayed before him on the bed. When Marek looked up, his eyes looked vacant and haunted, and Tichy decided not to demand a tongue bath before he showered.

"Stand up on the bed," Tichy instructed. "Let's have a look."

Without saying a word, Marek obediently and a bit awkwardly climbed up on the bed and stood facing the man, almost at attention. That's when the trembles returned, in the body that still didn't seem like it belonged to him. He stood still as Mr. Tichy inspected his privates. Marek didn't want to look. He hadn't looked. If he still had privates, he supposed he would find out soon enough, perhaps when he next needed to pee.

Tichy took a close look at the boy's privates. He certainly had done a number on the kid. Marek's penis was swollen to the size it usually was when it was erect, perhaps even a little thicker although it was pointing downward. There was almost no normal, skin-colored flesh on the entire expanse of it, just the colors of black, blue, and scarlet. The boy's balls were no better. They were puffed up and swollen to at least twice their usual modest walnut-size. Marek's scrotum had stretched to the size of a tennis ball with colors of black, blue, and violet predominating. The boy's entire groin area was several shades of crimson and scarlet. There was a dark violet streak where the iodine had been applied. The front part of the boy's upper legs as well as his hips and lower belly were a mess of red-hot lines with dark bruising underneath.

Tichy knew from his inspection that there would be no need to worry about this kid cumming without permission for quite a while now. Marek probably would pass out from the pain if he tried to wank, and more likely than not, shoot a bloody froth sooner than cum.

When he was finished with his inspection, Tichy helped Marek step down from the bed and turned him so that the boy was facing away from the rules posted on the wall. He clicked his fingers.

"Your rules," he said simply. "One to six."

When the man reached for his shoulders, Marek cringed and almost collapsed. He felt weak in the knees as his strange, foreign body turned 180 degrees away from the rules he had written in his own hand.

From memory, in a soft, terribly hoarse, and whispered voice, the trembling boy recited the rules. Aside from a couple of stammers, he did so flawlessly, even saying the word "seven" to reflect the last rule that had yet to be written next to the number.

"There's a good boy," praised Tichy when Marek was finished. "Lie down and rest, I'll make us some lunch," said Tichy as he left to do exactly that. Just some lečo this time, mostly pre-made in a tin with rice. Tichy spiced it up a little, adding some fresh-chopped and fried onion to improve the flavor.

Marek continued to stand almost at attention, shakily, as Mr. Tichy approved his recitation. Afterwards, he took the body that wasn't his to the bed to lie down – on his back of course – and actually managed to fall asleep for a time. He didn't sleep long. When he awoke, his testicles were aching and throbbing with pain. He lifted his head to look and again decided not to.

He rose from the bed to eat and did so kneeling. He didn't feel hungry, but the food was good, and that helped. He ate everything the man had placed on his plate.

It was good, reasonably healthy, and satisfying fare for them both. Tichy made sure that the boy drank two full glasses of water. Then it was up to Marek to do the dishes and when he was done and looking a bit lost without further instruction, Tichy poured himself a small, "digestive" shot of vodka and lit up a Gauloise. Damn. Although he had won the pack only just over two days ago, it already was half gone.

"Rule number four," said Tichy as he gave the boy a meaningful look.

When Mr. Tichy tested him, Marek stood almost to attention again, this time without shaking, and recited the fourth rule from memory. The words came readily to his lips as he whispered them in his hoarse, non-voice. He seemed to have memorized them successfully.

Tichy waited for a moment, letting the rule about how many orgasms he expected each day to hang in the air, waiting to see if Marek would get the hint. The boy had woken up to a whipping and had had the entire morning to himself thereafter. It was now past one in the afternoon and Tichy had yet to cum even once. Marek would find out soon enough that his flogging didn't exempt him from the requirements of Rule 4, nor from any of the others for that matter. But the hint didn't seem to register with Marek, at least not right away.

"Time for some schoolwork," Tichy declared. "If you need help understanding something, come ask me. I don't know everything, obviously, but my Russian is decent, so's my Czech, and I can do math at the level you're doing just fine. The rest of it we can try and figure out from the books."

"Here," he said as he passed a few papers to Marek. "These are mocks, old versions of the tests. You probably won't get the same questions, or at least not the same exact multiple choices when there is one, and the answers aren't filled in, so you'll still have to work them out on your own to prepare correctly," he explained. The papers he had just handed over to Marek were an easy way for the boy to get a jednička [Author's note: a score of 1, or "A"] on every test he was going to retake. Giving Marek the mock tests wasn't all that far from cheating, but Tichy wasn't about to take any risk of the kid escaping his clutches by failing out of the internat.

"Don't share them or tell anyone you have them," Tichy warned the boy. "If anyone finds out I gave them to you, I'll cane you bloody and throw you in the sack with some tiger balm for good measure."

Tichy leaned into the chair and took a deeper drag on his Gauloise. Damn it. They were smoother than the Startky, but almost twice as expensive. Smoking them instead was not a habit he could sustain unless he cut down on his daily consumption as he was vaguely planning to.

It was at the very end of the pregnant pause following his recitation of Rule 4 that Marek realized that while he had recited the rule itself, he had not paid attention to the content and substance of it. His face paled and he was about to speak, to offer his services, when Mr. Tichy told him it was time for schoolwork. He now knew what the pause had been about. Mr. Tichy expected him to offer to help him cum, and Marek had just stood there like a defiant, disobedient boy.

He could feel the trembles coming before they even arrived. His head started to spin even as the man handed him the mock exams and explained their purpose. Tichy sat back in his chair. Marek hesitated. The boy was full of dread. Should he do the schoolwork as Mr. Tichy had instructed, or should he try to rectify his error before it resulted in a punishment? Neither option was good, and he felt so confused. Was it worse to disobey, or to try to fix something that he had already messed up? Had he already earned a punishment for merely reciting the rule without proceeding to follow it?

"Please, M-Mr. Tichy," he began. "W-w-w-would you like me to suck you, s-sir?" he asked. He was terrified and literally trembling. "Or I c-can do my work," he added, feeling confused and almost faint.

One look at the newly uncertain, docile, and compliant boy told Tichy that he should have whipped the kid bloody the very first time he came to his office many weeks ago, or certainly right after he had been dragged back in by the soldiers. But then again, the kid had pluck, and this type of wholesale obedience couldn't have come about without some sort of build-up and routine. He smiled at Marek.

"Bit slow today, but well-meaning I can see," he said with a wink. "Show me what a slutty puppy you are. No words. Just eyes, mouth, face, body language. Show me you want my cock. You want it bad. I'll either take my pants off or send you to do your homework depending on how well you convince me, so let's see what you've got," he demanded.

Tichy paused and sat up a bit in anticipation. A little bit of a show, especially one put on by a boy who was very clearly scared shitless, was bound to put him in the right kind of mood.

Marek could not stop trembling. Even the wink the man gave him didn't help. He had a foreboding sense of doom that he already had violated the very rule that he had been charged with memorizing. But now he had to perform. He had to convince Mr. Tichy that he wanted to suck his cock. But he was trembling. His blood was running cold in his veins. He wasn't sure he could do it well enough to suit Tichy.

He sank to his knees, and he tried to make lovey-dovey puppy eyes at the man. His balls ached and throbbed with pain. He couldn't stop shaking, his puppy-dog eyes looked more like a comical grimace. He did a little better licking his lips while looking longingly at the man's crotch.

Please take your pants off, Mr. Tichy, he silently begged the man. Please, please, please. He licked his lips again and opened his mouth. He looked again at the man's crotch, trying to tell Mr. Tichy with his acting just how much he wanted the man's cock. But he wasn't convincing even to himself, and if he couldn't convince himself, he wasn't going to give a good performance and he wasn't going to be able to convince Mr. Tichy.

His trembles intensified, and his eyes glimmered with a fresh set of fearful tears. This wasn't going well, and Marek knew it. He desperately wanted it to.

Except that it was working, nonetheless. The sight of the distraught, trembling boy trying desperately to please him caused Tichy's sadistic streak to flare up and filled his cock with enough blood to strain against his trousers, fully erect. Since hard cocks don't lie, Tichy unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and then stood up to take them off, boxer shorts and all, keeping his t-shirt and socks on.

"Well to be honest, that wasn't a very good slutty puppy," he said, clearly amused, "but it's a good, scared puppy trying to be very obedient, and it seems like my cock likes the idea of a scared puppy doing his best to please, so I'm going to go with his choice for once. Use lots of tongue," he specified, "and show your prize and wait for permission to swallow at the end," he added as he relaxed his posture, sitting sideways to the table with feet wide apart. He took another short, careful drag on his Gauloise so as not to finish it too soon.

Marek felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He could breathe again. Embarrassed by his tears, he wiped at his eyes as Mr. Tichy removed his pants and sat back down for the blowjob. He immediately knelt close. He wanted to do a very, very good job sucking. A very good job. He thought that he could. He knew how. He still couldn't stop his trembles, but he felt incrementally better.

He leaned in and began to lick. Big, broad, licks with his small tongue on the man's shaft and glans, even his scrotum. He gave lots and lots of tongue, licking everywhere, making love to Tichy's cock, and when the blowjob began, Marek gave it everything. Absolutely everything. After a few bobs, it was mostly plunges. Plunge and hold. Plunge and hold. Plunge and hold. Tongue on the upstroke – lots of boy tongue — swirling, so slippery, nicely wet. Then plunges again, to the very limits of his gag reflex. He didn't dare go any deeper, but he soon had a bit more than five inches [13cm] of Mr. Tichy's cock in his mouth.

Marek did his absolute best. After the first dozen plunges, or so, he reached up and pinched his own nostrils shut, forcing himself to plunge without breathing through his nose, making his own breathing more difficult, but trying to enhance the man's pleasure by making the blowjob sloppier and harder on himself. He was trying to redeem himself. He did the best he could until he felt almost faint from lack of breath and slowed the plunges down so he wouldn't pass out.

"I am noticing and appreciating this extra effort," said Tichy. He had really enjoyed seeing the boy work so hard to give him pleasure, especially when Marek pinched his own nose shut. "But put your hands behind your back. The nose-pinching thing only really works when someone does it to you, but it was a sweet touch, and I appreciate that you remembered it and tried. You're doing great," he assured the boy, and indeed, he wasn't far from cumming, even though the suck by then wasn't even ten minutes old.

Marek immediately moved to place his arms behind his back. His hands were trembling. He knew that Mr. Tichy wasn't angry at him, but it didn't matter. The body that still didn't seem to be fully his was trembling on its own, telling Marek that he was terrified just as Mr. Tichy's cock was telling the man that he was aroused.

"I'll teach you a new trick you can add to your repertoire as a reward," said Tichy with a smile as he guided Marek's head with his hands until he had taken the man's cock just under five inches [12.5cm] deep.

Marek flinched as the man reached toward him, his eyes cowering even as the rest of his head and body could not. But Mr. Tichy merely guided his head to the depth he wanted to show him the new trick.

"Now swallow, hard, like you have a big gulp of water in your mouth and are trying to drink it around my cock. And again. Again. Good, breathe, now do it again. Good. Deep suck, swallow, back for a breath, tongue, tongue, suction with cheeks as you sniff air in through your nose, down deep, swallow. There. Good boy. Very good. I'm almost there. Just remember you want me to finish in your mouth so you can show off what you've got," reminded Tichy.

Marek tensed, then swallowed. He did it several times, his arms behind him, holding his breath. His throat was trying to swallow Mr. Tichy's cock, but of course, it couldn't. He pulled up with tongue and inhaled a huge breath, then plunged immediately back down against, sucking, with firm lips, and swallowed some more. He swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed – too many times for the breath he had, his face rapidly reddening. When he pulled off the next time he gasped for air, once, twice, while trying to swirl the man's glans with his tongue. He grasped in a third breath and plunged down once more, no bobs now, just the plunges and swallows – swallow, swallow, swallow.

Tichy was impressed with how quickly Marek took this new trick on. This was good. So good, too good, damn it. He just lost any capacity to hold out on the boy, or very nearly. Two or three minutes after the boy began his swallows the man tensed, made a gurgling sound through his gritted teeth as the pleasure hit him, groaned in a sprawled-out sort of way, and came into Marek's mouth, with just enough cock-twitching and pulsing to warn Marek in advance.

It was a big load. It was Tichy's first cum of the day and well over twelve hours since his last. It was a surprisingly powerful, intense orgasm. He shuddered and gasped but didn't push Marek off this time; he had instructed the boy to show his work and wait for permission to swallow, so he left the boy in place as he fed him his cum.

Marek was glad to have the swallowing trick, even if the gulps left him breathless and on the verge of passing out. Sometimes, with Mr. Tichy's cock over five inches in his mouth and throat, he couldn't get himself to swallow. He tried, but his throat just … wouldn't. But sometimes he could make it swallow three or four times in a row before he came up for more air. He was doing his best, focused exclusively on giving the man pleasure and making him cum. His hands remained tightly clasped behind his back. His trembles had abated, but not entirely. The feeling of dread that he had felt when he realized he had disobeyed Rule 4 still hung over him like a blanket or a funeral pall. His mind knew that Tichy was not likely to punish him for it, but his body had concluded differently. He would need time to calm his nerves because they were not calm at all.

Tichy's movements and sounds made it clear that he was near orgasm, and Marek pulled off to apply his tongue in wet, swirling patterns over the top of the man's shaft and cockhead. When the cum arrived, Marek closed off his throat and took every bit of it in his mouth, not pulling off until he was sure that the man's last, oozing dribble had been deposited and his own saliva was starting to thin the viscous goo.

With his arms still behind his back, Marek pulled off and opened, displaying a full mouthful of the pearlescent liquid. He waited for the man's reaction and, he hoped, approval.

Tichy was extremely pleased. That had been a very good blowjob — so good that the last bit of the Gauloise had burned down to the filter on the side of the ashtray, forgotten.

"That was … " Tichy gasped, "amazing. Swallow. Drink a glass of water. Go, study. Rest if you need to, but no more naps. I want you to sleep tonight. You still have two more to go before midnight, by the way," he said, cutting the boy no slack and sounding a bit amused by it. As he spoke, he wondered how anal, especially if it forced Marek's cock to an erection, would feel on the boy's crotch, including his tenderized taint. For now, though, he was quite sated from the boy's exceptional blowjob and quite pleased with Marek's new attitude.

Chapter 21

Marek swallowed every drop of cum while looking up with his hands and arms still behind him. He nodded at the man's commands and went for a glass of water, removing his arms from behind his back only as he rose to his feet. He would study now. Study and worry about the next two times Mr. Tichy wanted to cum. It was already well into the afternoon, which meant that he would need to help bring the man to orgasm again in a couple of hours, and then a couple of hours after that. Sometimes it seemed endless. Rule Four was going to be the death of him.

It was a weird state for the man. His belly was full, and he was feeling too lazy and content to want to do anything too intellectual or physically demanding. He decided to go through his mail. He wrote a couple of letters and eventually phoned his mother. Marek could hear little of the call, but it might have surprised him how 'Standa' sounded when he spoke to someone he cared about and respected. He sounded younger, more boyish, and cheerful, and he spoke with a higher-pitched tone of voice than his usual command baritone. It was quite a long phone call. Afterwards, Tichy opened the newest book from the Vinnetou series and started to read, actively resisting the urge to light up another cigarette as soon as he started; he didn't want to spend the afternoon chain-smoking. Eventually though, without even noticing quite how it happened, he was sitting there with a lit Startka and a triple shot of vodka in an old mustard jar.

Marek spent his time studying in the bedroom, kneeling on the floor next to the bed with his book open in front of him. It was the only position that afforded him any relief from the pain in his genitals. If he refrained from moving, he could keep the throbbing and stinging to a tolerable level. It didn't make the studying any easier, but it worked. As time went on, however, he felt an increasing need to pee, but he knew that he had not been studying nearly long enough to ask for a break. Eventually, however, the boy realized he couldn't hold it any longer. He didn't want to have to ask Mr. Tichy, but clenching his bladder shut brought an aching pain to his genitals and a moan to his lips. He was scared to ask, but the pressure grew and grew. He stood when he couldn't hold it in any longer and walked toward the man.

"Mr. Tichy," he said in a hoarse, raspy voice. "May I please use the bathroom?"

Tichy glanced up from his book and eyed the boy. He looked meek and servile, just as might be expected from a boy who recently had experienced the lash of a bullwhip across his groin and genitals.

"Marek, I'm glad you're being respectful, but you can use the bathroom, wash your hands, or help yourself to a glass of water anytime," said Tichy. "You don't need my permission to breathe, you know. You were punished for cumming. Weeing isn't on the list of things that get you in trouble," he clarified.

Marek nodded and whispered a thank you as he made his way gingerly to the bathroom and closed the door. There, for the first time, he gazed down at his genitals. He had caught an unwelcome glimpse of them once or twice before, but now he forced himself to study them in detail. He didn't even recognize what he saw. His penis looked like a misshapen sausage and was covered with welts. His scrotum was black and striped with wounds, as well as discolored from the iodine. He saw what looked like black string and a nasty sore at the base of his penis, and when he gently and tentatively moved his penis to the side, he could see that he had been stitched there – undoubtedly by Mr. Tichy himself, since Marek knew he hadn't been taken to the school nurse, a doctor, or the hospital.

The sight of his genitals left Marek frightened. He didn't want to touch them, but he still had to aim his penis at the toilet. When he peed, his urine was a dark orange and red color. He knew that those colors came from blood. Marek started to shake once again at the sight of his urine and the condition of his cock and balls. His genitals looked … fragile. He couldn't tell how badly injured they were from the sight alone, but his penis was scabbed, discolored, and wounded on the outside and apparently bleeding on the inside. Was that why he had been given stitches? Had his penis come off during the flogging and been sewn back on? Should he be at a hospital? He knew Mr. Tichy would never take him, even if he were dying. Was he dying? He didn't know much about internal injuries. Could a boy die from them? Were his injuries fatal? He knew that Mr. Tichy wouldn't tell him if they were.

Marek finished peeing, but he was a wreck. Mr. Tichy had turned his balls black. Literally black. His injuries looked serious, and the boy was terribly worried. For all his thoughts of suicide, he wasn't ready to die unless it was by his own choosing and at his own hand. But what could he do about it? The answer was nothing. There was nothing he could do and nowhere he could go without the man's permission. With this, as with everything else, Mr. Tichy called the shots.

Marek emerged from the bathroom and went back to studying, which at least helped to distract him from thinking about the injured state of his genitals. He turned his attention to his schoolbooks, this time positioned on his hands and knees on the floor, hovering over his Russian text.

Marek's testicles throbbed throughout the afternoon and responded painfully to the slightest touch or movement, even as he carefully shifted positions on the floor. But a person can spend only so much time on his hands and knees, so after a time, Marek eased his hips to the floor and found that if he didn't move too much, the pain emanating from his scrotum was no worse than if he were kneeling, which is to say his balls still hurt, ached, and throbbed, but seemingly no more than if he were in the former position.

"Marek?" Tichy called out from the other room. "It's Saturday, and I think that's quite enough studying for today. What book are you reading?"

"I'm- I'm studying Russian vocabulary, sir," Marek replied in a soft voice that somehow managed to avoid sounding hoarse. His voice still was shot from all the screaming he had done.

Tichy sighed. Maybe he should have whipped the boy a little less hard after all.

"Yes, well done on that," said the man. "What I mean is, what book are you reading for fun, and do you have it here with you?" asked Tichy more specifically. "Karl May? Jules Verne? Jaroslav Foglar?"

Marek was taken a bit aback by the man's question. The boy liked to read – although he had done little of it at the internat and none since the cheat-sheet incident and his fateful introduction to the disciplinarian several weeks ago – but Mr. Tichy's seemingly innocent question was laden with peril for Marek. As with any boy growing up in the Communist Bloc, the 12-year-old was aware that books and other reading material were tightly controlled by the authorities. Certain books were banned, even ones written for children, including those by the third author the man had mentioned – Jaroslav Foglar. Mr. Tichy was known in the school as a fervent communist and supporter of the very regime that had banned Foglar's books, so why would he even suggest that Marek might be reading an author of banned books? There was danger in that question for Marek because the truth was, he had read several books on the banned list, although none while he had been at the school. The boy sensed a trap.

But there was yet another thing about the question that instantly elevated Marek's heart rate and put him on edge. The book he happened to be reading right now had once belonged to his father – the very same father of Marek "Traitor's Son" Hurta as Mr. Tichy had so eloquently put it after he had finished flogging the boy. It was an old book, seemingly harmless, and even a bit difficult to read because it was written more like the script of a play than a book. Marek didn't think it had been banned, but he wasn't sure. It was an old science-fiction book called R.U.R., Rosumovi Umeli Roboti, by Karel Čapek, and it was somewhat famous for being the first book ever to use the word "robot" in print. The robots in the story revolted against their human overlords, however, and the boy knew that books with subversive and revolutionary themes like that were frowned upon by the authorities even if they weren't banned outright.

Marek's first thought was to lie to the man. Radek had several Karl May novels in his bookshelf and Marek could claim to be reading one of them. Karl May was neither controversial nor banned, although May was German, not Czech. The boy's second thought simply was to deny that he was reading anything for pleasure right now, but Marek was terrified of lying to Mr. Tichy. What if Radek had already reported to him what books Marek had brought with him from Vacenovice? It was not implausible. What if Mr. Tichy had seen the book near his bed? That also was possible, as Mr. Tichy had been in his dorm room several times. What if the man knew exactly what he was reading and was testing him? What if R.U.R. was subversive and banned and Mr. Tichy already knew that he was reading it? Even if the book wasn't banned, what would happen to him if the man learned that it had once been part of his traitorous father's book collection?

In a matter of seconds, Marek had worked himself into a terror. The palms of his hands felt clammy and the hands themselves started to shake. His face went pale. His breathing became shivery. He wished he had never brought that book from home. He'd never read it before. He hadn't known what it was about. He wasn't meaning to be subversive. He wanted to give a different answer, but he did not dare lie to the man.

"It's c-called R.U.R.," he replied, in as calm a voice as he could muster as he looked down at his trembling hands.

Tichy was a little surprised at the kid's response. "You're reading Čapek? Karel Čapek for fun?" Čapek's brother Josef had written some kid's stories and fairy tales, but R.U.R. wasn't exactly a light read. "That's quite impressive," smiled Tichy. "Have you brought it here along with your schoolbooks?"

Marek shook his head. "It's back in my room, sir," he said quietly.

"All right, I'll fetch it for you," Tichy offered. He couldn't exactly send Marek limping around the school in his current state and forcing him to put clothes on over his battered genitals would be cruel. The boy was being good, and for now, Tichy had no desire to torment him any further.

"Is there anything else you forgot in your room?" asked the man. "Are there other books you'd like to read when you're finished with that one?"

Marek had been so worked up about the book question that it almost didn't register with the boy that Mr. Tichy wasn't angry with him. He breathed a sigh of relief as some color returned to his face. His hands were still trembling, however. He felt like he had avoided a close brush with death.

"Thank you, sir," he said in his hoarse, frog voice. He had only brought three other books with him from home, and he told the man the titles. None of them could be considered subversive, nor had they once been owned by his father. Marek just hoped that the man wouldn't check the printing date on his worn-looking copy of R.U.R. and piece together who might have owned it back in the day.

When Mr. Tichy left, leaving the boy to his own devices once again, Marek seized the opportunity to return to the bathroom. Like a rubbernecker at an accident scene, he could not seem to stop himself from looking at his deformed and discolored genitals. He forced himself to pee again and found that although his urine still was tinged pink, it was not nearly as bad as before. He checked his penis and testicles in the mirror. They were still black, scabbed, and awful looking. The tops of his thighs and his abdomen still displayed red stripes from the lash, but overall, he felt a bit better about things. He ventured back out of the bathroom and took up his little spot once again on the bedroom floor.

It felt a bit weird to Tichy to be running an errand for the boy, but it gave him a chance to sniff around the laundry room, where he found his sheets already hung up and drying, bleached clean, with no evidence of what had happened that morning. There was no sign of "Lu," but that wasn't an issue. He didn't need anything from her just now, other than to know that Vacha wasn't going to come around asking stupid questions about what had occurred in his apartment with Tichy's young charge.

Afterwards, he headed to the first-year dorms and let himself into the room shared by Radek and Marek. There he found Marek's copy of R.U.R., and when he picked it up it didn't even register in his mind that it was an old copy; after all, many of the books in the internat's small library were hand-me-downs and earlier editions, too. He quickly grabbed the other books Marek had mentioned, locked up, and headed back to his flat.

Returning to the apartment, Tichy encouraged Marek to rest and read his Capek, then went to the effort of emptying two drawers underneath one of his wardrobes, giving Marek one drawer for his books and school materials and one for his clothes. He grabbed a bucket and cloth and used some soap and warm water to scrub the sides of the bed and any other areas where he thought there might be some splatters from Marek's punishment. Of course, the police might still be able to collect evidence if they came looking, but nothing was left that could be spotted by a random visitor.

Marek took the books from the man and did a bit of reading. The irony was he didn't really like R.U.R.; it was an older book, written in a weird style. He had liked the idea of the robots, but the book itself wasn't delivering for him. At one point, when his eyelids felt heavy, he curled up and fell asleep on the floor for a few minutes. But when he awoke, his first thought was that Mr. Tichy needed to cum twice more, and it was one of his rules to make sure it happened. It was getting late in the day – far too late for Mr. Tichy to have had only one orgasm.

He stood up, feeling nervous, and approached the man as he read. Marek looked pale, and his right hand wouldn't stop shaking. For some reason, it was only his right hand that was trembling this time, not the left. Would Mr. Tichy want the puppy-dog eyes and crawling? Meeting that decision halfway, Marek lowered himself to his knees as the man looked up.

"Would you like me to suck you again, sir?" he said in a soft, nervous voice.

Tichy glanced at his watch. Blimey, it was almost supper time. The bulk of the day had passed in shocking peace – a stark contrast with the morning's violent events. He gazed down at the kneeling boy. He was half tempted to make him play-act as a slutty puppy once again, but Marek was already on his knees and Tichy was slightly taken aback by the sudden suggestion, even though it was precisely for this reason that Rule Four had been created. Tichy liked having the boy come to him for sex, and it was not something he generally was inclined to turn away.

Tichy removed his trousers and boxer shorts and smiled at the boy. "All right. Make it quick this time; we need to sort out dinner. But my last one today will be up your ass, just so you know," he informed Marek casually.

The man wasn't even erect, much less aroused. Notwithstanding the sight of the handsome, newly docile young boy kneeling naked at his feet, his cock was lazy and slow to stir. Part of it was that Tichy was feeling a bit worried and even a touch remorseful over what he had done to the boy. Although the kid had been brought to the school to suffer whatever dark depravities came his way, Marek's groin area looked like he had been in a train wreck. Tichy was glad that he had cleaned it so thoroughly. He knew from his training that peroxide, alum block, and iodine were antiseptic, but if the boy's genitals got infected, Tichy would be in a predicament. Could he fake tonsilitis or bribe a doctor to prescribe penicillin if it looked like it was needed? He didn't have a doctor or pharmacist on his list of useful contacts. Sure, he knew people who knew people, but a need for antibiotics that clearly were not for him was bound to raise eyebrows.

Marek looked on as Mr. Tichy glanced at his watch. It was getting late, and the man undoubtedly was confirming what Marek already knew – another orgasm needed to happen soon, or compliance with Rule Four could become a problem. Marek moved closer as the man removed his clothing and nodded as Mr. Tichy spoke. He had already kind of known that the man would want to fuck him at least once today, but he had held out some small hope that it could be avoided with the delivery of three first-rate blowjobs. Marek knew full well that his decimated and inflamed testicles would be jostled and abraded when the man buggered him, and he was not looking forward to the pain, but Mr. Tichy had decided, and that was the end of that.

When he leaned in to perform, Marek was surprised to find the man's cock flaccid, and for a moment he wasn't sure quite what to do with it. After a short, confused pause, he bent down and immediately began to lick at the head and shaft, trying to coax it to life. He took the head in his mouth well before it achieved full hardness, finding it remarkably soft and spongy between his lips, which was quite a contrast from the way he had normally experienced the man's penis as hard, unyielding, and pain-giving. He swirled the head with his tongue and in return experienced the interesting sensation of having the man's penis firm and plump in his mouth. It was almost like a lesson in anatomy and human sexuality all rolled into one.

It was an unusual, even odd experience for the man, too. Normally, Tichy was horny, erect, and full of will and determination to make boys bend over for him or crawl and kneel and suck or be fucked – especially a certain unfortunate young boy by the name of Marek Hurta. To start with a limp cock and a neutral, almost indifferent attitude and then be coaxed to an erection – to arousal, and to a sense that yes, he really did want it to happen – was altogether new to Tichy. It was not how he normally functioned. He decided to just go with it, however, receiving the boy's ministrations passively, neither assisting nor giving any directions.

When Mr. Tichy's penis was nice and hard, Marek began to bob, wetting the shaft, moving lower and lower with his lips until he was ready to begin his plunges. Using his new skill, Marek began plunging and repeatedly swallowing around the man's cock. Mr. Tichy had told him to work more quickly this time, so he did, swallowing in quick succession, pulling off, swirling with his tongue, and plunging again. He was trying to please the man. If he could please Mr. Tichy to an orgasm, he would have only one more to go today, and even if that one hurt him, he would have survived another day in the man's clutches. Day-to-day survival was the best Marek thought he could hope for under the circumstances.

It was an interesting space for the man. When Marek started to suck him intensely and speedily, Tichy was hard, but still not all that aroused. Even with the degree of enthusiasm the boy was showing, the man was not sure how long it would take to make him cum. If it were purely a matter of effort and mechanics, he should have squirted into the boy's mouth after about ten minutes, but Marek was still at it and looking tired after almost twenty minutes, and Tichy's cock had yet to twitch or show signs of an approaching orgasm. Then his stomach gurgled with hunger, distracting him and causing him to chortle. Sex just wasn't the same when he wasn't in charge, no matter how good it felt.

Something was wrong, and Marek knew it. Not only was the blowjob that was supposed to be quick taking way too long, there also was no sign that Mr. Tichy was even enjoying it. Usually, the man gave some signs of pleasure, like a little sigh or moan, or the twitching of his cock, but Tichy's cock had started off soft, and even now that it was erect there was no sign of actual enjoyment. Marek knew he should have done more to arouse the man before he had started sucking. He hated pretending that he wanted the man's cock and he never thought he was doing a very good job of it, but if this was the result of not begging, Marek knew that he would have to try harder to learn the art. If nothing else, by not making puppy-dog eyes at the man and pleading for his cock, Marek had made the task of sucking much more difficult for himself. His throat, neck, and tongue all were starting to hurt from the prolonged blowjob.

Not to mention that there always was the risk that Mr. Tichy would not be pleased with his effort and a punishment could be in the offing. Indeed, just as Marek had that very thought, the man pushed him away, stepped from the couch, and knelt on the floor. Marek blanched as the man repositioned himself. It was almost as if Mr. Tichy had read his mind. The boy's eyes immediately widened with fear as his heart rate spiked and his anxiety went through the roof. Before Marek could even gather his senses, Mr. Tichy had grabbed his head and pulled the boy's face back to his groin.

"Hands behind your back, open wide," the man demanded.

Marek was filled with dread. Fearfully, he placed his hands behind his back and interlaced his fingers, which helped to suppress the trembles that were just starting in his appendages. On Mr. Tichy's command, he opened his mouth as wide as he could and braced himself for what he knew was coming. The boy anticipated that he soon would have trouble breathing, as Tichy's plunges into his throat often were so rapid he couldn't steal much air, especially not if he tried using his tongue to stimulate the man's glans on the upstroke and tried to give him a swallow on the downstroke.

The man grasped clumps of Marek's hair to hold the youngster's head in place, then thrust into the unhappy kid's open mouth. He gripped Marek's head in both hands, no longer letting the boy plunge down, instead humping and pumping against his face, essentially using the boy's throat as a fuck-sleeve

Fearing an even worse punishment, Marek gamely tried to give the man pleasure along the way, but eventually his tongue work and attempts to swallow gave way to his lack of oxygen as the boy struggled to breathe, his fingers and toes clenching and releasing as his face went from flushed, to red, to almost purple. It was all he could do to keep his hands clasped behind his back and not bring them forward to push the man way. Marek knew that to do so would be suicidal, but it was hard to hold his position. He felt like he was about to pass out …

Just like that, the tingling and twitching of impending orgasm came to Tichy, especially as Marek started to struggle and strain to breathe. He liked seeing a young boy suffer, and Marek was doing a fine, exciting job of it, passively submitting to what was happening to him to the point of asphyxiation. The kid was suffocating, but Tichy still didn't let up. Five minutes later, with a groan of pleasure, Tichy came deep into the boy's throat and pulled out with only a tired huff. Marek fell to the floor on his side, gagging, panting, and coughing as he tried to regain his breath while grimacing anew at the sharp pain in his testicles.

"Clean me up quick," commanded Tichy without pause. "I'm starving."

Looking completely spent and still gasping for air, Marek wearily rose once again to his knees and began to clean the man's penis with his lips and tongue.

"That was a good blowjob, well done," said Tichy, "but do you see my point about being a good puppy slut, playing a little, getting me hard, getting me to want it? When you offer me a blowjob like a cup of tea and start in before I'm even hard, it shows a lack of planning on your part and means you're going to have to work extra hard to get me off," he explained, but the man wasn't angry at what had just transpired. Tichy didn't blame Marek for once. The kid was only twelve, so what did he know about flirting, seduction, or anything of that sort?

"I'm not going beat you for it, but what you just did there was a bit like throwing a gourmet meal on the floor for someone to eat on their hands and knees," continued Tichy. "It's still tastes good, but the presentation doesn't exactly set the mood, now does it?"

Marek listened to the man's explanation as he cleaned up from the blowjob. He agreed with it. He had already had the same thought, but the problem was, the flirting stuff was hard for him. Begging required him to pretend that he desperately wanted Mr. Tichy's cock in his mouth or butt when he really didn't. Tasks, he could do: Make the bed. Use your tongue. Swallow. Clean this up. Wash the dishes. Crawl. He could do tasks. But flirting required play-acting, and he always felt like he was faking it, precisely because he was. Faking seemed perilously close to lying, and lying wasn't something you did with Mr. Tichy, so whenever Marek tried to fake his way through a flirting routine, he felt like it wasn't going well, and like he was always about five seconds away from being punished for lying.

When his cock was sufficiently clean, Tichy pushed the kid away, slipped his clothes back on, and went to the kitchen. He didn't really feel like cooking, but the boy had to eat if he was to maintain his weight and stamina to endure what the man had planned for him over the break, not to mention continue to heal from his present wounds and injuries. Tichy opened the fridge and fished out half a dozen eggs, a chunk of butter, a dozen slices of ham, and the jar of gherkins. Then he went to the pantry for an onion and a few slices of bread. The meal was finished in five minutes. It was simple, quick, and good enough to fill the tummy of a growing, healing boy.

Marek remained in the bedroom as the man prepared dinner. Sitting cross-legged in the floor, he took the time to lift his penis up and look carefully at the damage once again. What he saw made him sick to his stomach. He didn't seem to be healing very well. His penis looked like it had gone through a meat grinder, and his scrotum looked even worse. Between the stripes, scabs, stitches, iodine, allum, multi-colored bruising, overall black-hued look to his testicles and the surrounding area, it looked very much to the boy like his genitals had become gangrenous and were dying. If they rotted away and fell off entirely, he would essentially become a girl.

Maybe he would get an infection and Tichy would just let him die. Marek was sure that the man wouldn't get a doctor for him even if he really needed one. If he died here at the internat, Tichy would bury his body up on the slope above the gymnasium and tell everyone that Marek had run away again. Nobody would even care. Nobody would miss him. Not here, anyway. Back home, his mother and Aunt Martina probably would. His friends maybe would, too, although Marek couldn't even be sure about that. They probably had replaced him with other friends by now and didn't even think about him anymore. He wiped away some tears at the thought. He could really use a friend right now, but he had none, and no prospects for one, either. Everyone here hated him, and he didn't even want to face the other boys after his ridiculous attempt to run away.

Tichy called him to dinner, but Marek wasn't hungry. As good as the food had been so far, he simply did not want to eat. He hadn't had any exercise whatsoever in several days and he didn't need the energy. He also had a pit in his stomach over the condition of his genitals and did not want to eat any food right now. But he knew that Mr. Tichy had made enough for them both, and he also knew the man would make him eat, so he rose gingerly to his feet, entered the kitchen, knelt by the table, and put a forkful of the stuff in his mouth. It was going to be a long dinner, but at least it would delay the painful buggering he had to look forward to once he was done.

Tichy ate, drank, giving Marek plenty of time to eat his food, and then lit up even as he sipped away at the rest of his beer. The boy didn't seem terribly hungry, but he was going to eat, like it or not, even if he did it slowly. Fortunately, the kid's appetite seemed to improve as the meal went on; the food was good, so he did eat. Slowly, at first, then proceeding at a normal pace until he was done. He didn't need any more, but he finished what he had been given, and he was glad enough not to have an issue with Mr. Tichy about it.

As usual, it was up to Marek to wash the dishes and tidy up. The boy did the dishes with growing dread as he knew what was going to happen to him when he was finished. He was not relishing being fucked with his genitals hurting as much as they did, but when Marek was finished at the sink and turned around, the man was standing there watching him and his sweatpants were bulging ominously with a raging erection. Marek blanched at the sight of it. This was a man with a plan, a man with a dark desire. Marek's heart rate elevated rapidly as the man approached him, obviously already aroused.

"Come," Tichy said ominously. They walked together into the bedroom, where Tichy threw an old blanket over the bed before pushing Marek down onto it on his back. "Roll over," he commanded.

Marek moaned as he fell onto the bed. Just being jostled caused immediate, throbbing, aching pain in his testicles, and an even sharper pain from the cuts and abrasions all over his penis and scrotum. It hurt even more when he rolled over, but that wasn't even remotely the worst of his problems. Tichy began to tie him to the bed once again, causing the boy to tremble as his eyes wet with tears at what was to come. His entire body was shaking as the man secured him to the bed in the same position which he had been whipped in earlier, except flipped over with his butt stuck out.

When Marek was tightly secured, the man placed a heavy leather belt on the boy's lower back as he began to apply the familiar lubricating cream to the kid's inflamed anus and rectum. Marek felt the belt resting on his back as the man began to lube him. Why was Mr. Tichy doing this to him? How could anyone possibly be this cruel? His genitals already were killing him, and the man hadn't even yet started to fuck him. The presence of the belt suggested that he was facing something far more ominous than just a painful buggering. The boy was terrified, and his shaking intensified. If he could have opted to die right then, he would have done so. He just wanted to end this, all of it, but he couldn't, and he shook like a leaf at what was about to happen to him.

"You are now going to beg," said Tichy. "You are going to lie, fib, fabulate, exaggerate, go as deep and far into the absurd and impossible as you can. You are going to talk, ramble, and keep talking, about all the reasons you want my cock in your ass right now. Tell me how it's the best thing you can happen to you. Tell me how you always loved it, deep down. Maybe your favorite story when you were little was about a boy who liked to take it up his ass," chuckled Tichy. "Just talk. And keep talking until you're granted the privilege of my cock, the honor and pleasure of my cock in your little ass. Then you can start expressing thankfulness and happiness for it being there. Don't stop talking. I want this to be a nonstop stream of words, Marek. Free flow. I will punish any stretches of silence," he announced as he dragged the belt over the boy's buttocks in warning.

Tichy left the belt perched there as he removed his clothes and started to massage more of the cream onto his own cock.

"Go on," he instructed the boy.

As Marek listened to the man's instructions, he realized what he would have to do to avoid a beating: More begging. His balls ached and throbbed as he contemplated getting fucked while keeping up an endless babble of bullshit for Mr. Tichy's amusement. Marek hated having to do it, but he hated the thought of being beaten even more. He would beg, but if the man thought that by making him beg Marek was going to start believing this bullshit about wanting cock – if that was the goddamn purpose of this – he had another think coming. He wasn't a fucking poof, and he didn't want the man's cock, especially not now given the condition of his genitals.

The man's carefree chuckle at his own orders infuriated the boy, but he immediately worked to suppress his anger. He was learning to do that, but it was difficult. He would have to do exactly what the man commanded, of course. He would have to beg. He would do everything the man instructed. He didn't even have another plan.

"Mr. Tichy, please, sir, I really want your cock," he began. "I want your cock in my butt. I really love when you put your cock in my butt. I like how big it is and how nice it feels. You have the nicest, biggest cock ever. I've always loved having your cock in me. Your cock is the best cock in the whole world."

Marek paused. He had to. It sounded ridiculous. He felt ridiculous. Even Mr. Tichy couldn't like this, could he? But when he paused, Tichy gently tapped him with the folded belt, and the boy knew that he had best continue.

"Your cock is my favorite cock of all time. I love your cock. It's the best cock in the whole world. I dream of your cock all the time. Your cock is wonderful. I want it in my butt so bad, Mr. Tichy."

Marek's balls already ached from his position, but he knew they would be in agony when the man mounted him and started to thrust. He wanted this to be over. How much longer was he going to have to keep babbling nonsense before the man did what he had to do and let him alone?

Tichy knelt behind Marek, stroked his erection with a generous coating of the cream, and listened to the boy beg. It was clumsy. It was ridiculous. Best cock, favorite cock … well, during his initiation as a Tichy Boy Marek certainly had experienced a lot of cocks in his mouth and butt, so technically he could say that. Biggest was true in those terms, too. Some other bits felt like a poor attempt at marketing, like a minimum-wage sandwich board-wearer trying to lure tourists into a restaurant. Still, Marek was trying, and he would get better over time if he knew what was good for him. The man would see to that.

"This is … promising," encouraged Tichy somewhat disingenuously. "You need to work on it though. More details. More adjectives. More specifics. Remember the whip? Or just consider this belt if that's easier. Imagine I could whip you again or take the belt to you as an alternative to fucking your butt. Now tell me what you'd honestly prefer, what you'd much rather have, Marek? Would you rather feel my cock in your ass, or feel the belt on it?"

Marek knew exactly what Mr. Tichy was threatening when he told him to "remember" the whip – as if he ever could forget it – or "consider" the belt. The man would do it, too, that much was certain. He would no doubt welcome any excuse to stripe the kid's ass with the belt or take the whip to him again. He would enjoy doing it. At the end of the day, Marek didn't want either of those things to happen to him. He would have to comply and beg better, longer, and harder.

"You're forgetting to actually beg for it, too," reminded Tichy. "You haven't even said the magic word," he tutted as he watched Marek's taut butt cheeks clench with worry. There was no question that the kid had a gorgeous, sexy, beautiful, fuckable little ass. Tichy eyed it hungrily. That little ass was his, and he was going to fuck it long, hard, and deep for the next two weeks. As for right now, they had all night if they needed it; Tichy was in no hurry. Marek still had a lot of begging to do if he wanted to avoid the belt, and that little hole would feel just as good to Tichy and maybe even better if the pert buttocks to either side of it were red, welted, and inflamed.

"Please, Mr. Tichy," Marek began anew, this time starting with the magic word. "I'm begging you to fuck me. I really want your cock inside me. Please. I'm begging you sir. I need your cock. I don't want the whip or the belt. I'd much rather that you fuck me instead. I really, really want you to. I'm not kidding. Please. I really want to feel your cock inside me. Please put it in my butt and fuck me. It always feels so good when you do."

To Marek it was ridiculous, it really was. How in the world could any of this be a turn on if they both knew that Marek was lying through his teeth? Of all the stupid-ass things Mr. Tichy made him do, this one took the cake, but the man apparently found it endlessly amusing. It wasn't sexy, funny, or anything else. It was asinine, and Tichy could go fuck himself. He was nothing but a stupid, poof motherfucker who picked on kids half his size and thought he was a tough guy for doing it. He wasn't tough. He was a homosexual – a poof – and Marek despised him. He wished him dead.

Marek could feel himself getting angrier and angrier, and it made him nervous. This was not the time nor the place for anger, but the boy couldn't suppress it, and that worried him. Why did his brain always have to work this way? Why? He was admittedly and unabashedly scared to death of Stanislav Tichy. The man had nearly flayed his testicles from his body and what was left of his damaged, blackened orbs were throbbing and aching beneath him right now. In fact, they were fucking killing him right now. So why was he finding himself getting angry at the man once again in a way that was not going to end in his favor? How could he possibly be getting angry again so soon after the man had punished him so severely? Why did he seem to have a self-destructive gene that courted punishments from the man who already despised him and eagerly seized any opportunity to hurt him? It was ridiculous on every rational level, and he certainly wasn't about to act on his emotions, but he still felt angry.

Maybe he felt the way he did because every single time he resolved to do as the man said and not incur his wrath, Mr. Tichy found a way to up the ante. Now he was making Marek beg to be fucked, when they both knew that Marek was in pain and very much didn't want to be fucked. Wasn't that just hilarious? Make the kid you're raping beg you to fuck him when you both know the kid is in pain and lying through his teeth, and then critique his efforts, taunt him, and laugh at him while he's doing it. The man's little laughs and chuckles aggravated Marek most of all. This was all so funny to him. Why couldn't the man just fuck him and let Marek lie there and take it like a whore? He could handle that now. He didn't like it, but he'd been fucked so many times by now that he no longer cared about the act itself. The man's taunting laughs were a lot harder to take. They cut at Marek's soul. The man was a fucker, plain and simple.

Suddenly, an amusing thought occurred to Marek, one that might save him from the consequences of his increasingly angry thoughts. The boy had to suppress a smile because it really was funny. Tichy wanted him to beg? He would beg alright. He would give the man a constant stream of babble and beg for his cock, yes, he would.

"Please fuck me, Mr. Tichy. It's the best when you fuck me, and I love it. I really, really love it. Please, I'm begging you do to it to me. You have the biggest, nicest cock. I'm begging you to put it in my ass. Please, please, please fuck me with your big, big cock. You're the biggest fucker ever, Mr. Tichy. Please put your cock in my ass. I want to feel your cock inside me."

Tichy froze mid-motion as he was stroking his cock. Would Marek never learn? It seemed not. He stood up without comment and with his erection bobbing, walked over to the dresser. Opening the drawer, he pulled out a condom, unwrapped it, and put it on, followed by a pair of nitrile gloves for his hands. He removed the lid from the large metallic can of tiger-balm concentrate and carefully lubricated the condom with it, especially at the tip. He avoided smearing it too near the base so he wouldn't get it on his own skin, though a bit of a tingling sensation on ordinary skin would be worth suffering as collateral damage for what he was about to do to the kid. When he was ready, he got right back up on the bed behind Marek.

Marek knew. He knew, and he knew that Mr. Tichy knew. It had been spontaneous, even funny. Joking. And ultimately a very poor idea. It had not simply slipped by as he had imagined it would. The man's reaction was too immediate for it to be a coincidence. Mr. Tichy didn't say anything as he went about his business, nor did Marek as he waited to receive whatever was coming his way. An apology was not going to cut it now and the boy knew it.

Why did he have to be this way? Why? For what purpose? Was it really that funny? Really? If Mr. Tichy hadn't noticed, Marek would have enjoyed a private laugh at the man's expense for all of ten seconds. Ten seconds of private hilarity. But now he wasn't going to get ten seconds of fun. He was going to get quite a bit more of something that wasn't going to be fun at all. Mr. Tichy would see to that. The man was very good at what he did. He was very, very good at causing pain.

Marek didn't see the stuff, but he smelled it. He knew that smell, and his blood ran cold. He cringed and clenched his butt cheeks together as much as he could, which is to say, not that much at all given his tied and splayed position. This was going to hurt. This he was going to regret. And this he knew, he richly, richly deserved. Even Marek couldn't find unfairness in this one. He had crossed a line and he had done so deliberately with his eyes wide open to the consequences. He had gambled and lost for ten seconds of unrequited humor.

"Sometimes you have to rise up and fight to get what you want," Tichy said to the smart-ass boy. "People had to revolt against the rotten bourgeoisie system to claim their rights. But sometimes all you need to do is ask, and you just asked. I told you that your begging was important to me, boy. I told you that learning how to do it well – how to do it right – mattered. I told you that it inspires me. You might want to be more careful," he added darkly, "with just what you inspire in the future."

Tichy peeled his gloves off his hands and discarded them. Without saying another word, he lowered his hips and eased his cock between the boy's spread butt cheeks, then simply ground, shoved, and forced his cock straight into Marek's rectum.

"Ow-wwwwww-wwww," the boy gasped as Mr. Tichy forced himself painfully inside. Marek still hadn't spoken a word, but he already was making promises and commitments to himself. He would beg better the next time, even if he didn't want to. Oh yes, he would. And he would not do that again, not ever. Not ever, ever. Never. Not again. No matter how angry he felt. No matter how funny he thought it was. Now he just had to survive this. He needed to survive it to get a second chance.

Tichy didn't go slow this time. He knowingly and deliberately used force, grabbing the kid's hips and putting his weight behind his thrusts, deliberately causing Marek a maelstrom of different pains. The first pain was from the abrupt and violent penetration. Immediately thereafter, there was the pain of having his bruised and battered junk pressed into the pile of cushions beneath him with considerable force. But the last and worst pain wasn't far behind. If he hadn't already smelled the stuff, it would have taken only a few seconds for Marek to realize why Tichy's cock was covered with a condom and felt all rubbery, and why the "lube" on his cock seemed stiffer, stickier, thicker than usual. If he didn't know those things ahead of time, he would find out as soon as the fire ignited inside his tight little hole.

Oh, it hurt. Just the sharp penetration hurt, the roughness of the entry. But Marek had smelled the other stuff, the acid. He knew what it could do, and within a few seconds, it was starting to do it. Oh, no. Oh, no, oh no. The pain ramped up quickly. The stuff was incendiary.

"Ugggh," he flinched, as the first, fiery pain hit him. It grew from there with such white-hot intensity that Marek simply couldn't believe it. "Ohhh … aahhhhh … ahhhhhhhhhhh. Mr. Ticheeeeeeeeee! Owwwwwwwwwwwww! Okay! Okay! Owwww! AAAAAHHHHHH! Aiyeeeeeeeeeeeee! Aiyeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Tichy forcefully worked his cock balls deep into Marek's ass and proceeded to fuck him with sharp, long, painful thrusts. Then he very nearly pulled out, just the very tip of his cock still inside Marek, almost like he was going to listen to the boy's screams of pain – like the acknowledged 'okay' was going to make a difference – but of course it did not. Tichy rammed himself all the way back in balls deep and pulled almost all the way out just to do it again. At least the tiger balm got slipperier and softer inside Marek's tortured anus and the thrusts were smooth enough not to cause any major fissures or similar damage to the kid's ass. Nonetheless, it still felt to the boy like he was being raped with a red-hot poker.

Tichy did a few more thrusts than settled for a fucking pace that suited him, but they were still much longer and rougher thrusts than usual when he cared about how the act felt for Marek. This would have hurt the kid even with lubricating cream instead of tiger balm. Now there were just all those layers of pain. The pain of his penetration. The chemical burning, and with each thrust, a jab of pain as Tichy deliberately pressed Marek's abused crotch area into the pile of cushions and pillows underneath him.

Marek was going to pay dearly for his little joke. This wasn't going to be over until Tichy came, and for a third time in relatively short succession and with a condom on his cock, that wasn't going to happen all that soon. Oh, no. Tichy was going to make this fuck last for as long as he possibly could.

Marek was a very, very miserable boy as the man punished him for his sins. This one, however, he knew he deserved. He had monumentally, egregiously, and outrageously messed up in a way that was out of character even for the impetuous young boy. The thought had entered his mind and been acted on so quickly, and with such cocksure belief that it would slide by Mr. Tichy, that Marek really hadn't had the time to think about the possible consequences. Now he was learning all about those consequences and it was a very painful lesson.

The boy moaned and sobbed at Mr. Tichy fucked him with his acid-coated cock. Oh, how it hurt. It hurt and burned, and it was made even worse by the knowledge that he had brought every agonizing, fiery sting and every jolt of stabbing pain on himself. In that regard, the punishment was almost therapeutic for the boy. In the oddest of ways, being punished by the man for something he was responsible for seemed several times more normal than anything else that had happened to him in the last few weeks. It was almost refreshing.

Except that it hurt so much. Everything hurt. Marek's testicles were absolutely killing him, but he barely noticed them. His rectum was on fire. His anus felt like it was being fused by an arc welder. The only things that kept him going were the knowledge that this was an earned punishment, that his action deserved punishment, and that he had survived the acid lotion once before.

But aside from those two things, it fucking hurt a lot. Marek's body undulated on the bed as the man hate-fucked him. He wouldn't apologize to the man, not unless Mr. Tichy made him. But even through his pain, and the long, rough thrusts, he thought maybe he should … explain.

"It was- ughh- a j-joke," he gasped between the man's vigorous thrusts.

"I hope you liked the pun of it, then," commented Tichy dryly as he fucked Marek on and on, causing so much pain but being in no hurry to finish. He wanted Marek to feel every burning thrust, and even when he came, he still wouldn't be finished with the kid. He was not going to put up with sass and smart-ass behavior from the 12-year-son of a traitor and grandson of a capitalist, Nazi sympathizer who he had brought to the school to suffer in penance while satisfying his darkest desires. If the kid was hellbent on finding out just how dark things could get, all he needed to do was ask. Indeed, he had asked, and now the man was obliging him. Now Marek was finding out. Now the boy was learning.

As much as Tichy would have liked to prolong this fuck, even with a condom on and even with two orgasms already banked for the day, the man was so aroused by the situation that he could only last so long. After a little over 20 minutes of savaging the boy, he came with an especially deep and guttural grunt into the condom, the tip of which was thrust so far into the boy's rectum that Tichy almost felt like he was gutting the kid from the inside out. After Tichy was done and had pulled out, Marek's could do nothing but cry as the intense, fiery burn of the balm seared his insides. The boy whimpered and sobbed even more because he knew that the burning pain would not go away for a long, long time.

Marek may have thought the worst of his punishment was over, but that most definitely was not the case. Tichy went to the bathroom and used a wad of toilet paper to help get the condom off his cock without having to touch it. Wrapping the toilet paper carefully around the dripping condom, he returned to the bedroom once again. Grabbing one of his discarded socks from the floor, he straddled Marek's back, pulled the boy's head back hard by the forehead, and forced his mouth open. As Marek gasped in pain and protest, Tichy pushed the entire wad of sodden toilet paper and the used, cummy condom straight into the kid's mouth, then pulled the sock tight between the boy's teeth and tied it off as a makeshift gag.

Marek screamed into the sock gag as he realized what the man had just forced between his lips. The condom still was coated with tiger balm, which immediately attacked the sensitive membranes of the boy's mouth and began to coat his tongue. Cum began to leak from the condom and mix with Marek's saliva as the toilet paper broke down, freeing still more of the burning substance to permeate the boy's mouth and attack his taste buds.

As Marek screamed in pain and misery into the sock gag, Tichy returned to the bathroom and took a quick shower. He had half a mind to put a dollop of the tiger balm into each of Marek's sensitive nostrils but was worried that the boy might simply go insane from the agony if he did so. Tichy took his time with the shower, however. Marek wasn't going anywhere, and with his chafed and abused rectum still coated in tiger balm and a quantity of the stuff in his mouth, he was still being punished even as Tichy sorted himself out. He still wasn't done with Marek. Outright insulting him when he was meant to be begging and practicing his sucking-up skills was infuriating, and not something Tichy was going to let slip. The boy's behavior needed to be corrected and atoned for. Even a painful hate fuck wasn't enough this time, not by a long shot.

Tichy still had angry thoughts in his head as he returned to the bedroom and retrieved his heavy, leather work belt from the drawer of his dresser. He stood by the head of the bed where the boy could see him and what he was holding.

"Aside from cumming without permission, running away, or trying to tattle, the one thing I won't tolerate from you is disrespect, Marek," he told the bound, weeping, and very unhappy boy. "Whether you think you're joking or not, if I ever hear or catch you disrespecting me again, severe punishment will follow as surely as night follows day, and I promise you it will make today look like a walk in the park in comparison."

Tichy moved out of view behind and to the left of the boy as he prepared the belt for action. "This is going to hurt," he advised the lad. "It will remind you that I don't have a particularly good sense of humor when it comes to boys with your ancestry, and that I have an extremely low tolerance for being disrespected by little bourgeois brats like you. You already disrespected me by running away. In the future, I would advise against disrespecting me in my own apartment, and what you are about to receive will remind you of that.

Marek knew that he was in for a beating, and this one, again, he knew he had consciously earned. He wasn't sure why Tichy was sparing him the cane, but he knew that the belt would hurt more than enough. He tried to nod and mumble an apology through his gag. He was sorry. He knew that he would be made to be even more sorry soon.

Tichy raised his right arm high and brought the belt crashing down on Marek's buttocks. The sound reverberated throughout the room as Marek's body went tense and a thick, angry imprint from the leather appeared almost instantly across his butt cheeks.

"Mrrummmmmmmmm!" squealed the boy into his gag as the pain hit him like a train.

Tichy reached down and yanked the sock gag from Marek's head. The used condom had been in the boy's mouth long enough for the cum and tiger balm to spread, and the man felt like hearing the boy express his pain in full as he beat him

"Feel free to scream," offered Tichy as he prepared for another blow. "There's not likely to be anyone around to hear you, but everyone already knows that you're staying with me over the break. I don't think any of them will be surprised to learn that the school's first-ever runaway and worst-ever wimp has earned himself a punishment at the hands of the school's disciplinarian."

Marek immediately used his tongue to push the toilet paper and condom from his mouth, then whimpered in pain as he listened to Tichy. What the man said about nobody caring if they heard him screaming undoubtedly was true. Nobody cared about him. Nobody cared what happened to him. Everyone hated him here. To the other boys, he was just a rotten, spoiled kid from Moravia with a despicable ancestry who had no business even being at the school. He was a cheat, a liar, and now both a thief and a runaway who seemed intent on mocking the school. If the boys still were here and could hear him being beaten, they probably would line up outside the door and cheer.

"Yes, Mr. Tichy," Marek gasped, even if he had no intention of screaming. Screaming was weak. It was wimpy. He didn't want to give the man the satisfaction.

He was screaming by the third blow of the belt, and he screamed all the way through the full set of 24 that Tichy decided was appropriate to punish him for his mouthiness. By the time the man had delivered the final blow, Marek's ass was apple red, swollen, and shiny across the orbs of his butt cheeks. The truth was, Tichy wanted to keep going, but he knew that at this pace of punishments, still so early in the two-week break, he was going to end up driving the kid crazy with pain and torment to the point where he had a nervous breakdown. The man didn't want that. If he was going to enjoy himself maximally over the next two weeks, he knew that he needed to take the boy's tender age into account, space out the punishments, and prevent any one of them from getting out of control.

But Tichy still wasn't done punishing Marek "Glass King" Hurta for disrespecting him. Far from it. Reaching below the bed, he pulled out the mummy suit that he had specially prepared for the claustrophobic boy. He untied the sobbing, whimpering kid and lifted him from the bed by his hair and upper arm, only to kick his feet from underneath him and immediately topple him to the floor. Tichy then pushed him straight onto the open body-sack and pinned him down by his wrists.

"So, you think you're too good to play the slut puppy and beg for my cock?" asked the man. "Do you, Marek? Well, beg. Right now, or you're sleeping in this thing, bound tight as can be you little fucker, and only premium-grade begging – no slack, no compromise – can get you out of it."

Marek's already elevated heart rate went through the roof when he realized what the man was going to do to him. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins as the man straddled him and pinned him down atop the sack. Marek's eyes were wide with terror. This time, he didn't need to be instructed to beg.

"No, aahhh, please Mr. Tichy, waaa haaa," the panicked boy bawled up at the man. He could barely speak for his terror. "No, aaaah, no please! It was just a joke, I was just, waaa haaa, joking, please!" His panic grew. He didn't even like being on top the sack, much less in it.

"Please d-don't, Mr. Tichy!" he whimpered. "Aaaah, don't put me in it! It w-was a joke! It was just a joke! I'm sorry, please, please, please, please don't put me in it!"

"Were you not listening to me when you got your whipping this morning, you little shit?" demanded Tichy. "You don't ever seem to learn, Marek. I told you not to run away and you faked remorse and ran away right after being given just about every possible warning not to. I told you not to cum, and you came anyway as you were escaping as a further sign of disobedience and disrespect. You came again last night after I gave you an easy way out. Now you're disrespecting me in my own apartment, calling me names. Do you expect me to go easy on you after all that? Why should I? Why should I show you any slack or mercy when you behave like that?"

"You should consider yourself lucky when all I choose to do is have a little fun messing with you, fucking your ass and mouth and toying with you to show you who's boss," continued Tichy. "You need to learn obedience and respect. The next time you piss me off, especially if it's even just a little bit deliberate, you're going in this sack. I'll tie it up tight, Marek, and you had better believe that I'll make you stay in it for a long time – long enough for every fiber of your body to remember not to fuck with me. At this school, I fuck with you, not the other way around. Do we have an understanding, Marek Hurta?" the man demanded icily.

Even through his pain and terror, Marek listened carefully as the man berated him. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he detected the slightest possibility of a reprieve in Tichy's words, and he wasn't about to mess up that opportunity. He was petrified of the sack. He would rather endure another whipping or beating than be tied up in it.

"Y-y-yes," the boy responded with vigorous nods of his head. "Yes, sir, yes," he gasped.

"Go wash and brush your teeth," instructed Tichy as he took his hands from the boy's wrists and stood to his feet. "The enema kit is under the sink, if you fancy giving yourself one to soothe your ass, feel free, but you'll have to manage without my help. Don't make a mess. You have half an hour before bedtime," announced Tichy and he opened the window to air the stuffy room and then went into the kitchen for his last vodka and Startka of the day.

Marek went slack with relief at the man's instructions. Oh, thank God. Thank everything. Thank everyone. The man was not going to put him in the sack for a dumb joke. Marek knew he wouldn't have gone in willingly. He would have fought it, fought the man, kicked, clawed, punched, and drawn blood. Marek knew that nothing else Mr. Tichy could do to him would be worse than that. He would go insane in the sack. He would lose his mind in the sack. It would be a fate several times worse than death. Mr. Tichy would have to beat him unconscious before he would allow himself to be forced into that thing, with its hood – the evil, awful, eyeless hood that Marek knew the man had made specially for him to trigger his greatest fears.

Oh, thank God. Thank God.

He got himself up and hobbled into the tub, whimpering and moaning in pain the entire time. He tried to give himself an enema. His ass burned and hurt on the inside and the outside, but only just now had he even resumed thinking about it. He had been in too much pain in too many places and too afraid of the sack to worry about his ass. He wasn't sure at all how to perform the enema, and it really didn't go well, but he supposed that the cold water in his rectum helped to alleviate the pain at least a little bit. His penis, testicles, and now his butt cheeks all were in bad shape. They were continuing to change colors and hues with the passage of time.

He brushed his teeth and came out again, feeling a bit recovered from his ordeal as well as stupid and sheepish. He was very much in pain below his waist. He hurt everywhere from his mid-thighs to his lower back and abdomen. His mouth still tingled from the stuff on the condom.

"It was a really dumb joke, sir, and I'm sorry," Marek said sheepishly as he approached the man. "I admit it. I really am sorry, and not just because you punished me. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I didn't think you'd notice," he said apologetically.

"I did notice and will notice if you try and sneak something like that past me again," warned the man. "And you're not really an idiot enough to think that calling the man in charge of you a fucker is something you can get away with, something I wouldn't care about. That's a lie. It's a lie you may be telling yourself, but it's still a lie."

Marek hung his head as it became clear that Mr. Tichy didn't understand what he was trying to say. The boy wanted to explain that he hadn't really intended to call the man a fucker. Even Marek couldn't be that dumb. He had meant it more as a verb, like Mr. Tichy fucked the biggest, not that he was the biggest fucker. In that respect it had been more like a compliment than an insult. That was part of the reason he had said it, thinking it would be funny.

He wanted to try to explain it one more time, but what was the use? It had just been a mixed-up, jumbled-up, ill-advised, and very spur-of-the-moment decision to make a very bad, very unfunny, very unfortunate joke. Whether in verb or noun form, he had said it. He had said it intentionally, and Tichy had wrecked him for it. Now his ass was on fire again on both the inside and the outside, but Marek felt that perhaps he almost deserved the pain he was feeling.

"You knew exactly what you did there, and you deserved your punishment," continued Tichy. "Maybe while you're feeling so sorry for yourself you are forgetting that your mum is in a hospital and your aunt and uncle don't want you, so you have nowhere to go, and I'm here, cooking and paying for food for two instead of relaxing at my parents' place, eating my mum's cooking, and being away from here and a lot closer to all the good ski trails. Maybe contemplate that as you fall asleep with a burning ass tonight. Your other realistic alternative to staying here with me was a cold, nasty prison-like orphanage with gypsies and cripples in Tanvald. You'd be getting fucked in your ass just the same, only by a bunch of thugs, and you'd have none of the perks that come with this particular 'fucker,'" he said as he made a sour face.

Marek listened as Mr. Tichy chastised and berated him. He was used to that, of course, but this wasn't like the other times. This time, Marek was guilty. Then the man hit him with the other stuff. About the cooking. About paying for his meals. About watching him when his family couldn't – or wouldn't. About not being able to go on his own break. About not seeing his own mother. Marek had heard him talk to her on the telephone the other day. The man had seemed different. His voice had been more normal. Softer. Friendlier. Marek supposed that Tichy wanted to see his mother, too. The boy sure wanted to see his.

Marek hung his head. He felt terribly guilty. It had never even occurred to him that maybe Mr. Tichy didn't want him here and would rather have been somewhere else. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe the whole world didn't revolve around Marek Hurta. As if to remind him of that, his bottom suddenly flared up and he winced in pain. He hadn't even clenched it or moved.

"I didn't mean it that way," he said to the man in a subdued way. But it sounded lame even to him, and he was too tired, hurting, and defeated to try to explain. He shouldn't have said it, even as a joke.

Tichy shook his head at the boy, clearly not believing him, but he said no more about the subject. Ignoring Marek, he closed the window and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he returned, Marek already was in bed under the covers. Tichy slipped into the bed himself.

"Let's sleep, and you can try to be a better boy tomorrow," he suggested as he switched off the light. This time there was no kiss on the head for Marek, and for the first time ever, Tichy used the size of the bed not to be skin on skin with the boy; he even turned on his side so that he was facing away. Marek had not seemed to mind being snuggled before, so this was something that he was bound to notice.

Marek did notice. He missed the man's embrace, and its absence made him feel more alone than ever. Silence fell in the bedroom, but it seemed to Marek that something still needed to be said. Tentatively, and more than a bit fearfully, the boy reached out his hand and very gently pressed his fingertips to the man's upper back before removing them once again. He exhaled a little grunt as his butt flared with pain just from that minor movement.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tichy," the boy said into the darkness.

"Apology accepted," muttered Tichy.

Marek was tired but he couldn't fall asleep right away; the burning pain inside his butt simply wouldn't allow it. The pain seemed to flare and pulse, with little corners of his rectum and bowels giving off pain sensations like so many Christmas-tree lights, each sparking to life like a miniature supernova then burning out again, only to be replaced by another celestial event a few fractions of an inch away. He wanted to clench his cheeks and squeeze his anal ring against the pain, but he refrained. He had done that before, and it just made it hurt more. His mouth still was tingling with the stuff, too.

While he lay awake, he replayed what Mr. Tichy had told him over and over in his mind. Marek regretted calling the man a fucker. He really had meant it more in the verb way than as a noun, but the pun had been over the noun form, so it looked to the man like Marek had called him a fucker and there was no good way to explain it. Marek had apologized on his own, without any threats, and he had meant it. He hoped that the man believed him. For some unknown reason it was important to the boy that he did.

Finally, and it may have been a couple of hours later, the boy fell asleep. He slept, and slept, and slept.

In contrast to the boy, Tichy fell asleep quite quickly into his usual, calm, restful, but not crazy deep sort of sleep. In the morning he woke up fresh, and much to his surprise, erect. He was tempted to turn around and ram his cock into the sleeping boy's tight little ass, but the tiger balm he had used on Marek could take an absurdly long time to absorb and break down, especially when not exposed to air and not washed off, which of course it couldn't have been from the inside of Marek's rectum. The boy probably wouldn't be able to feel it anymore – his nerves would be too exhausted from sending the same pain message to his brain repeatedly especially as the pain signals weakened – but Tichy didn't fancy getting any of the stuff on his cock.

Marek was exhausted and didn't even stir awake as Tichy slipped out of the bed for the bathroom. Afterwards, the man quietly dressed and headed out of the apartment for a jog. It was Christmas Eve, so everything down in the village was going to be closed. It had snowed more overnight, and it turned out to be way too slippery for a run. After he slipped and almost fell for the third time, Tichy turned around and went for a short work out in the school's gym, even though over the break it was kept only just warm enough not to freeze and burst the water pipes.

He returned at around eight o'clock to find poor, worn-out Marek still asleep. With his head lying on the pillow and his eyes closed, the boy looked innocent, a bit like an angel and even younger than his 12 years. Tichy made breakfast with coffee for himself and cocoa for the boy, and only then went to stir the kid awake for the next day of his punishment.

"Rise and shine," bellowed the man. "Breakfast is ready. Come on, out of the bed, stand up, hands on your head. Let's have a look at you," said Tichy as he prepared to examine Marek's crotch to see what it looked like 24 hours after the man's fury had been unleashed on it.

Marek awoke with a startle in the usual manner of boys his age – his eyes open but not seeing, his face flushed and vacant, his hair mussed. The pain in his testicles came at the boy like a sledgehammer as soon as he rose from the bed. He groaned, put his hands on his head, and yawned. His bottom immediately flared with pain both inside and out. The boy still was very tired and more than a bit out of it, and he also was very nervous as Mr. Tichy knelt to inspect them.

"Hmmm," Tichy contemplated as he examined the boy's wrecked crotch. The shallow wounds were all healing well; they were scabbed over and dry. There was no puss and no signs of infection of any sort, but Marek's balls had swollen to the size of a tennis ball, the swelling now at its worst. Tichy carefully touched Marek there. The sutures were under a strain as Marek's scrotum no longer was a sack so much as a blown-up little balloon that looked about ready to pop. The marks on the surface didn't look too bad, and the sutured wound was oozing only a little bit – nothing that would suggest an infection – but the kid's balls had to hurt loads.

Marek winced and held his breath as the man gently touched his testicles and moved them side to side. He chanced a glance down himself to assess the damage, but what he saw appeared so foreign and disturbing that he looked away. He would have to rely on Mr. Tichy's medical skills, no matter what they were or weren't. He stood still, but barely, as the man doctored his scrotum and applied some smelly medicine to it. Mr. Tichy always seemed to have a great supply of lotions, creams, balms, salves, and medications on hand, most of them for good purposes, but a few for evil, including the stuff that had gone in Marek's butt last night.

Tichy grabbed the iodine and used it to coat the stiches just in case, then dabbed some soothing, calming salve over the boy's balls and the surrounding area.

"Turn around, bend over, pull your ass cheeks apart," he demanded, and then examined Marek's anus. It was a darker red than usual, clearly irritated by the tiger balm, but it wasn't leaking blood and didn't look damaged in any obvious way. Despite being put through the ringer yesterday about as hard as was possible, Marek looked like he was going to heal from his injuries just fine. Tichy had found over the years that boys were fast healers, but he had never injured one to this extent and he was happy to see that Marek had good recuperative powers. It would make the remainder of the break much more enjoyable if the kid could withstand the physical injuries that Tichy planned to inflict on him. The kid's mental state, of course, was another issue altogether.

Tichy dabbed peroxide over the boy's broader crotch area and cock just to see if Marek would wince, but he elicited no reaction from the boy and saw no signs of fizzing, so he decided not to worry about it anymore. Marek was going to be fine, although he couldn't sit or even stand with his legs together without his balls protruding forward, painfully, and comically. Indeed, he needed to stand bow-legged with his knees slightly bent to keep pressure off his junk and not aggravate his injuries. Kneeling with his knees wide apart was the only way for him to eat breakfast and not be in pain. He couldn't sit down given the state of his genitals and ass cheeks.

Speaking of which, as Mr. Tichy turned him around, the boy's butt wasn't too bad all things considered. His inside parts felt close to normal, and Marek wasn't sure whether the dullness he felt there was because of the acid stuff or the intensity of the man's thrusts and penetration. On the outside, or nearly outside, his anus was extremely sore, raw, and still burning. Marek knew that it would hurt to walk from the chafing, and he dreaded having to squat and do his business because he already knew what that was going to feel like.

As the man doctored his private parts, the boy's mind wandered back to what Mr. Tichy had said the prior evening following Marek's terribly unfunny joke. It simply had not occurred to the 12-year-old before that the man had given up his own vacation to care for him here at the internat. Marek's mother had put the school in a real bind with her nervous breakdown, and when his aunt and uncle had rejected him, Mr. Skala had been forced to scramble to figure out what to do with him.

Marek had passed out when Mr. Skala gave him the news that he wouldn't be going home, but before that happened, Marek remembered that the man had said something about the local orphanage. Mr. Tichy had said basically the same thing last night, and Marek guessed it might literally have been true that they might have had to put him there if it weren't for Mr. Tichy's decision to take him in. Of course, if he had made it home to Vacenovice during his escape attempt, they wouldn't have had to worry about him being here over the break, but he supposed it wouldn't have looked good to allow him to escape and make his way home, especially after being told that his mother wasn't even there to receive him when he got there. Where would he have even stayed, and how would he have fed himself?

Marek felt guilty at the man's largesse. On one level, he knew he had no reason to feel that way. Mr. Tichy had been a fucker to him, literally and figuratively. The man had been a bastard. He'd taken advantage of his position at the school to take advantage of Marek, all for something the boy hadn't even done.

On the other hand, there had been times when the man had been nice to Marek. He'd even occasionally been affectionate toward the boy. He probably had no idea how confused he made Marek whenever he extended a simple kindness to the kid like a gentle touch, a hug, or a kiss. Growing up without a father, Marek likely would have worshiped the ground that Stanislav Tichy walked on if the man had shown him that kind of affection without being such a bastard to him. Indeed, the man probably could have had Marek eating out of his hand just to have a friend at the school, but no. Mr. Tichy had been nothing but cruel. Yet, as cruel as he was and as disobedient as Marek had been, Mr. Tichy still had put his own life on hold and forfeited his entire vacation to take Marek in and feed the kid at his own expense. That realization hit the boy hard.

Tichy nearly was done doctoring the boy. "I was going to take you skiing today," he said, interrupting Marek's musings, "but now there's no way," he sighed. "So, you'll study, revise, and go through the sheets I've given you. After lunch you can rest and read."

"Speaking of lunch, there's plenty of tinned and jarred stuff," Tichy continued as he stood to his feet. "There's also fresh bread and the like, so I'm placing you in charge of preparing lunch today."

"Yes, sir," said Marek as the man finished working on his injuries. He looked at the man a bit nervously, then averted his eyes as he prepared himself for what he had planned. The man really was a fucker, and Marek never would forgive him for all the things that he had done to him, but that didn't mean that he couldn't acknowledge a kindness that, perhaps, he had overlooked before.

The boy didn't want to do what he did next, but the words nevertheless came tumbling out of his mouth.

"I'll study, Mr. Tichy, I promise … but first, please, please, if you don't mind, can I please suck your cock, Mr. Tichy? I really, really need your cock in my mouth super bad. I want to suck it and lick it and make it feel good, and then I want to take it really deep down into my throat and swallow it, and lick it, and make your cum come out. I want to taste your cum in my mouth. I need your cum, Mr. Tichy. I want it, and I'm really … thirsty right now."

The boy's cheeks blushed crimson at that last line, but he forced himself to continue.

"I'd really love it if you'd let me suck you, Mr. Tichy, and I really want to do a good job and make your cock feel really, really nice. I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, and I want to make it up to you, so I'm begging you to please let me suck your cock before I study my Russian, because I really don't like Russian as much as sucking your cock and making it feel good so you can cum in my mouth and I can swallow it. I really like the taste."

Every part of Tichy's mind knew that the litany of begging words from Marek was just as fake it could be. It wasn't real. It was over the top and not one word of it was true. It wasn't something Marek would ever do of his own accord even if he somehow felt that way about cock – and he didn't feel that way, of course. Tichy knew that Marek was feeling remorseful and guilty, just as the man had tried to make him feel with his reproach and distance last night. Now he voluntarily was doing more of what Tichy had had to force him to do before, even if his words bordered on the ridiculous.

Despite the hollowness of the boy's words, Tichy's cock nonetheless started to rise and swell up in his pants. He liked this. Even if or perhaps because Marek's sluttiness wasn't real, even if every single word in what he was saying was a lie, he still was a handsome, young, athletic boy with a very bruised and abused crotch begging to be allowed to give him a blowjob. Before Marek even finished his attempt – quite a good one given how new he was into this whole pretend-slutty-begging business – Tichy was rock hard. He let that decide the matter for him.

The man turned a kitchen chair around, pulled his underpants off and sat down, his legs spread wide and his erection jutting mostly up and partly forward.

"All right, come here, my little slut-puppy. Come earn my cum," he said with amusement. "Where do I like your hands when you work for it?" asked the man. He smiled indulgently as Marek's arms instantly and almost magically disappeared behind the boy's back.

"You'll need permission to swallow when you're done," he added, sounding quite good-natured about the whole thing. There was something very satisfying in mirroring Marek's cum-craving lie by making the boy really taste and feel the spunk in his mouth before he could gulp it down. It was also a very sexy sight, for some reason: A handsome, young boy mouth brimming with the greyish-white goo that was a product of the man's carnal pleasure and the boy's hard work.

Tichy reached for a new pack of Startky; he had finished one the day before, and even as he started to unwrap it, he smiled to himself, pushed it aside and reached for the Gauloises. The better smoke would be a nice treat to go with this other, unexpected treat. The higher-grade cigarette would be a small celebration of Marek's new begging skills and attitude. Indeed, it almost seemed like the kid had achieved a breakthrough of sorts.

Marek did the best job he could at the begging. Yes, he felt ridiculous, and yes, it was all lies, but for some reason it was what the man wanted him to do, so he did it. He begged. And when the man removed his underwear, Marek knew that he would need to make good on his application. Rule Four required Marek to get Mr. Tichy off no fewer than three times per day, but none of the other the rules required him to beg. He hated begging, and he usually only did it when Mr. Tichy made him, but on this occasion, he used voluntary begging to express to the man that he was sorry for his stupid joke from last night and to thank Mr. Tichy for giving up his vacation to watch, house, and feed him.

Of course, his stay here wasn't exactly rent-free – he was paying for it with his ass and mouth – but the thing was, Mr. Tichy could use his ass and mouth just as easily during the school term whenever he wanted without housing or feeding him, and that was what Marek was thanking him for. If nothing else, the food was good, and he was safe here. He wasn't in an orphanage, and he wasn't trying to navigate his way three quarters of the way across Czechoslovakia on his own. It had occurred to him more than once since his runaway attempt that trying to get home to Moravia by himself hadn't been the wisest or safest decision he ever had made.

Marek knelt before the man with his hands behind his back and his fingers interlaced to keep them there. The man lit up his cigarette as Marek settled in. Mr. Tichy's blowjobs usually took about 20 minutes, and Marek wanted to make this one a very good one for the man. It was his way of saying thank you and apologizing at the same time. He found himself hoping that Mr. Tichy would not need to take control this time, as that always made it so much more difficult and arduous. The boy would try to suck the man the way he wanted so that he didn't feel like he needed to do that.

Marek started off with some licking and tongue work, getting the man's glans and shaft wet before taking the cockhead in his mouth, wrapping his lips around it, and starting to bob. In just a few seconds, he took his first plunge down Mt. Cock, showing off his swallowing skills on the down stroke. Once, twice, three times he swallowed around the man's cock. He could have done more, but he knew he needed to pace himself so he wouldn't get winded.

The boy pulled off, breathed deeply, and prepared to plunge again. He had changed his technique for the better, he thought. He did very few bobs now, and more plunges. With each plunge, he took about 5" [12.5cm] of cockhead and shaft into his mouth for the swallowing thing. He really couldn't go any deeper without gagging, and that also would be true even if Mr. Tichy took over. Of course, the man liked a little gagging, so Marek might just have to go there after a bit.

Tichy had long since lost count of the number of boys who had been in a similar position to Marek just now, naked and sucking his cock from their knees between his legs. There certainly had been a lot of them over the years, but none of others had begged for it first. None of them had sported a swollen, very nearly ruined cock and balls between their legs as they did it. None of them were even remotely as good at cock-sucking as the lithe little 12-year-old from some shit-stain farming village in Moravia. None of them were even remotely as … broken and trained as the boy presently kneeling before him.

Tichy had taken a bullwhip to Marek, causing a degree of bodily injury that was the closest Tichy ever had come to sending a boy to a hospital. He had added a hate fuck, a whipping, some tiger balm, and a close call with the sack to the boy's list of torments, but even after all that, it appeared that Marek finally had received the message only after the man had guilt-tripped the kid and deprived him of snuggle time last night. The combination of those things had caused Marek to beg to suck cock like a little whore without even being bidden, and he was sucking right now to the very best of his ability, making Tichy's cock feel quite nice in the process.

"There's a good slut-puppy," said the man with a smile as he caressed the boy's hair with the hand that wasn't holding the lit cigarette, "but you're almost a bit too eager at the start," he said softly. "For the first minute or two, go a bit slower, please. Maybe count to five as you slide down the shaft. Then pull off. The next time, try to count to ten as you slide down. Then see if you can make it fifteen, and slide off a bit more slowly, too. We both know you can make me cum well and fast, but let me enjoy this, will you?" said Tichy with a smile. "Use the same sort of motions, just a bit slower. Less like a rabbit, more like a snail, slut-puppy," winked Tichy, who then took a long drag out of his Gauloise and blew the blueish smoke up towards the ceiling.

Marek didn't care for the man's slut-puppy remark at all, but he chose not to take it as teasing or taunting because the man seemed to be in a good mood. Plus, this was an apology and thank-you blowjob of sorts, and Marek was going to try to please the man without any conditions or setbacks.

As he continued his oral ministrations, Marek supposed that he had, in fact, gotten pretty good at this blowjob thing. It was nice to be good at something, but it certainly wasn't much of an honor. He could only imagine the conversations he might have about his skill back home: What did you learn at the internat in Liberec, Marek? Oh, I learned how to give really good blowjobs to the staff and some of the other boys. But, whatever. It was what it was at this point.

As for going slower, who knew? Marek had always thought that the point of a blowjob was to cum, and the sooner, the better. After all, that was the way he used to masturbate before that activity became off-limits to him. He would jerk his cock so fast that his hand literally was a blur. The resulting friction more than once took the skin right off his penis. Heat could build up. His arm could get tired, but it only really felt good when he used his right hand, so he couldn't switch to his left. A minute of intense, pant-inducing, arm-numbing, muscle-clenching jerking was usually all it took for him to cum. He could start, finish, and clean up in 90 seconds, which was useful for rubbing one out in the school restrooms between classes. In less than two minutes, he could be done and on his way before the bell rang.

But listening to Mr. Tichy just now, the boy realized that there was another way. A different route. A slower way to do it. He slowed down. Way down. He started to count as he plunged, forcing himself to go more slowly. There were a few immediate advantages to that as far as he could tell. For one, it allowed his lips and tongue to do a bit more to grip the man's fleshy shaft. For another, it allowed him to add some actual suction. And for a third, he found that once he arrived at his destination at the base of the man's cock, because he was going so slowly, he could take a bit more of the shaft – perhaps as much as another half an inch [1cm], or so – directly into his throat. Going slower gave him more time to prepare, and because he wasn't plunging so fast, he could regulate the amount of cock he took down to the fraction of an inch.

It worked. He bottomed after a 15-second plunge and gave three juicy, throat-gurgling swallows before retreating slowly back up the man's shaft. There was only one problem with the new approach that Marek could see, and that was that it made it harder to breathe. He knew that he might eventually have to speed up a bit to compensate for his lack of oxygen, but for now he wanted to do it exactly as the man had instructed him.

Tichy moaned, then took another drag from his cigarette and it came out all hazy as he let out a ragged, shuddering breath. This. Was. Amazing. Despite being a good way away from cumming, his cock twitched intensely in Marek's mouth. Holy fuck. This couldn't be more perfect. Okay, well, maybe it could be just a little more perfect. Maybe it would be a little better if Marek weren't black and blue down there and instead needy and erect. Maybe it would be a little better if there was something painful stuffed up the slut boy's behind. But as far as the sensation went, Tichy couldn't imagine that getting any better, no matter what. Fucking hell this was good. For a minute or so, he was rendered almost speechless.

"That's really good," Tichy encouraged the boy when he finally regained the ability to speak. "Really good, boy. Mhmmmm. Ugh. Oh yeah-ah-ah-ah-ah-aaaaaaah." The long, deliciously sweet slide and then the massaging, clenching swallows felt very nice. Tichy shuddered again. Oh fuck. He almost had to stub out the cigarette; the pleasure washed over his whole body in such an intense, unpredictable way that it was hard to control his breathing. He just stared down at Marek as the boy sucked him expertly. He was being blown away, literally, and was in awe of the kid's performance.

If he didn't hate sucking cock so much, Marek perhaps could have learned to like the reactions he was getting from Mr. Tichy. The man very obviously liked what Marek was doing. He not only said it aloud, but the boy could tell as much from his grunts, sighs, and mannerism. You can't suck a man to dozens upon dozens of orgasms and not start to develop a pretty good sense of what he likes, and it appeared that Mr. Tichy very much liked the slow approach.

Marek doubled down. If the man liked it slow with lots of gripping lips and swirling tongue, that's what he would get. The boy went even more slowly on the downstroke, his lips applying varying pressure and his tongue swirling until it no longer was able. He gave one, two, three, four gulping, sloppy swallows at the bottom, his throat muscles massaging the man's glans before he began a very slow, 10-second withdrawal, complete with nice suction, indented cheeks, massaging lips, and a swirling tongue caressing the man's shaft. Marek would have bet cash money that Mr. Tichy liked that last plunge for sure. Then he did it all over again, with the only change being the random patterns of contact he provided with his lips and tongue.

He would have kept it up, too, since it was kind of fun to see Mr. Tichy this aroused, but he had to breathe. The 10-second withdrawal winded him like nobody's business and he had to pant for air at the top of every plunge but went right back down again as soon as he caught his breath, trying to elicit more grunts and sighs of approval from the man. He really was pretty good at this, he guessed. He had always liked doing things well.

For Tichy, this was amazing and only getting better. The man's breath kept catching and pausing, coming in ragged, surprised huffs, puffs, and gasps. It felt almost like he already was cumming, except it kept going on and on and on. He loved it for two, four, six, the best part of ten minutes; it was the best sensation in the world, and he didn't say a word throughout or make any further effort to adjust or correct Marek's technique. He just enjoyed it. He stubbed out the rest of the cigarette and focused on the incredible sensation. If the power dynamic and control over Marek when he fucked the kid's ass wasn't such a thrill for him, he easily would take this any time over buggering the boy. But then again, he wasn't always a receiving sort of guy; sometimes he very much liked to give.

After about ten minutes Tichy took a deeper breath so he could talk. "You need to eliminate the pauses between," he informed the boy. "Go a bit faster if you must, slower at the start and at the end when you can already breathe through your nose but make it as continual a motion as you can. The pauses are starting to become a bit much," explained Tichy. He was being edged, and although he weirdly enjoyed the sensation given that he still had the ultimate control and knew he eventually would cum, only so much of that was acceptable for a man like him.

Marek paused and listened to the disciplinarian's instructions. Normally, he would have rebelled a bit at being told how to do it, but he was so into eliciting pleasurable grunts and sighs from the man that he listened and immediately took steps to implement what had been told to do. This was both an apology and a thank-you blowjob, so the ordinary Marek rules of resentment and seething anger did not apply. He wanted to get Mr. Tichy to cum in a super pleasurable way. And if Marek was being honest, it was kind of … nice to be so good at this.

Marek eliminated the pauses, and he could see why that was important. He concentrated on stealing breaths whenever and however he could so he could keep a nice motion going and still provide the lip, tongue, and suction action that Mr. Tichy really liked. It was difficult, and he was becoming breathless and oxygen-deprived, but he made it work. He went down the shaft slowly with lots of tongue and lippy action, applied some wet, gargling swallows at the bottom, and then went back up again, breathing as soon as he was able. Yes, he went a little faster, but mostly he was able to capture more air at more places if he concentrated hard on doing just that. Who knew that the very best blowjobs required pre-planning and strategic thought to deliver the most pleasure? The little internat in the hills of Liberec was a veritable fount of knowledge for the boy.

Tichy's eyes almost popped up as Marek succeeded in implementing his instruction beyond his wildest imagination. He strained, struggling to breathe; it felt, briefly almost like that nasty over-stimulation he sometimes felt immediately after cumming, except that this felt good, in a weird, trippy, mind-bogglingly full-on sort of way. Tichy tried to praise the boy, but his breath caught in his throat. All that came out was a sort of mumbled, indistinct noise. The man literally went cross-eyed for a moment there, red in the face, veins standing up on his face, neck, eyes bulging. He wanted and needed to cum. It felt like he was going to any second now …

Marek had been in this space before, where the sexual pleasure he gave the man was so good that Mr. Tichy reacted almost like he was losing his mind. The boy had never enjoyed an orgasm that good. The act of giving blowjobs to the man was demeaning, of course, and he didn't like to give them, but there was a certain amount of pride in a job well done when he got the man to react the way he did, and boy had Mr. Tichy reacted to this one! Marek supposed that it probably was the best blowjob he ever had given. Adding the swallows and slowing the pace seemed to drive the man crazy with pleasure, and Marek couldn't help but feel a little prideful. He had wanted to make this one feel extra special for the man as a form of thanks and apology, and his plan seemed to have worked out.

Tichy still felt like he was cumming, and yet his body wasn't spasming and clenching and expelling cum for nearly a whole minute after the sensation first overtook him. When he did finally cum, he nearly passed out with the intensity of it and only barely managed not to fall off the chair; it was pure luck that he had his legs spread wide apart and steady at that point or he almost certainly would have toppled.

His cock dry-twitched in Marek's mouth maybe a dozen times – as if baiting an actual, cum-hungry slut-puppy – before the pulses picked up speed and brought with them a thus far unprecedented flood of jizz. It wasn't his usual, bigger-than-average male load of just over a large spoonful, but nearly double that quantity as it just kept cumming, squirt, after squirt, after squirt into the youngster's warm, wet mouth.

When Tichy's body finally was done cumming, he just stared at the boy, dazed and wide-eyed. It felt like his brain had been fried by the pleasure. Maybe, in a way, up to a point, it had been. He certainly couldn't put a coherent thought together, let alone find any words, and time ticked on in a stunned, dazed sort of silence for an awkwardly long stretch of time.

Marek tried to hold the man's cum in in his mouth, but there was a lot of it. He couldn't really open his mouth without it overflowing his lips. He tilted his head back almost as if preparing to gargle it, then pointed his finger at his mouth and spread his lips a bit apart to show his work, trying to ask the man for permission to swallow. It took the dazed man a moment even to register what Marek was doing, another moment to process that the boy needed input from him, and then another few seconds after that to piece together a response. By then he could see just how much Marek was struggling with the sheer amount of pearlescent liquid in his mouth, and the sight caused Tichy's deeply ingrained sadistic streak to flare up.

"I can't see your tongue, slut puppy," he teased the struggling boy. "Will you stick your tongue up and out for me? Make like a periscope," he demanded.

Marek was afraid to swallow, but the sheer volume of the liquid in his mouth was taking matters into its own hands. He gulped some of it down while he desperately tried to get Mr. Tichy's attention. When the man didn't let him swallow right away, Marek was worried. It wasn't easy for him to stick his tongue up through the goo without spilling any, but he managed.

Tichy watched for a few seconds before bringing an end to the game. "Attaboy," he told Marek. "You can swallow," he allowed, thereby closing the books on one of the best, if not the best blowjob he ever had received.

When Mr. Tichy finally gave him permission, Marek swallowed the cum load down in a couple of gulps. God the stuff was disgusting, but that was one orgasm down for the day, and it still was early. Marek felt pretty good about the way things were going so far today.

"That was amazing," praised Tichy. "Well done. Now go study. Focus on Russian. Go over the mock question by question with your textbook. You can use the bathroom and drink water as and when you need. A fair warning: I will test you later. Don't slack off. Don't dawdle. Learn." And with that he dismissed the boy. He wasn't going to pour himself a vodka, not at nine in the morning, but he did light up another Gaouloise. Damn it. That blowjob really had been something.

Marek wasn't thrilled about having to study, of course. Despite his present circumstances, he was supposed to be on break along with the rest of the boys, but he was the only one among them who was going to spend most of his time off studying. Of course, it wasn't like he had a lot else to do. Other than studying or reading, he could either have sex with Mr. Tichy, eat, or sleep. He wasn't allowed to go anywhere or do anything else. Mr. Tichy wasn't going to let him play outside in the snow. They weren't going to go to the movies. He doubted that they even would go back into town. If the man did let him go out of the apartment, it would probably be to take dirty sheets to the laundry and if he did that, he might encounter and be tormented by Smallpox, so he figured he may as well stay right where he was.

So, he studied his Russian. He went over the questions. He studied the vocabulary. After about 45 minutes, he was bored out of his mind and wanted a break, but Mr. Tichy was occupied, so Marek studied some more. He had never been more bored.

Of course, it had occurred to Marek more than once that Mr. Tichy wanted him to study so that the boy could remain at the school to be punished and mistreated. It also had occurred to the boy that he could deliberately fail any make-up tests he took, which would result in failing grades and his expulsion from the school. But there were more than a few problems with that plan. For one, he would not be able to avoid or evade Mr. Tichy before he was sent home, and the man had threatened him with dire consequences if he brought back bad grades. In fact, Mr. Tichy almost certainly would guess that he hadn't even tried, or had deliberately failed, and Marek could only imagine what the man would do to him then. Would Mr. Tichy kill him rather than let him fail out and return home? Marek thought that he might, and if he did, it was not likely going to be a pleasant death.

The other issue was that Marek wasn't sure his plan would work. Mr. Tichy was in with the headmaster, and he might be able to persuade Mr. Skala to give Marek yet another chance. If that happened, Marek would be dead. The man would crucify him every single day over the second term, punish him severely for what he had tried to do, and make him study 10 hours each day. That was yet another big problem, and Marek didn't have a solution for it. He would need to think and plan very carefully when it came time to take those tests.

When he was finished smoking, Tichy got up, grinned to himself, and decided to do a thing that the boy probably would never expect from him. It was shortly afterwards that odd, Christmas-like smells started to emanate from the kitchen. Scents of vanilla. Warm jam. Almonds. Smells of … sweet stuff baking and sugar caramelizing. Sounds of whisking, kneading, and the occasional bang with a mallet or a rolling pin as Tichy made good use of some of foodstuffs they had shopped for earlier in the week.

Marek smelled the scent of Christmas wafting in from the kitchen. He wanted to get up to see what the man was doing, but he had been given an instruction, so he didn't dare. He looked listlessly at the Russian text. Why did he have to study when everyone else was out having fun? His balls were aching and throbbing. His ass still burned on the inside from the tiger balm and throbbed on the outside from the belting he had taken. He was hurting and bored. This wasn't fun. It was drudgery.

Tichy left the kitchen a couple of times to peer into the bedroom and check on the morose boy. By the third time, it was apparent that very little productive studying was taking place.

"C'mon then!" he called to the clearly distracted kid.

Eager to be released from his Russian text, Marek jumped up from his spot on the bedroom floor, ran into the kitchen – slowing only when his abused testicles protested – and came to the man's side. Mr. Tichy was a sight to behold. He had a white apron on. He was covered in a dusting of flour (so too was the table, and the floor in places). The oven was on. He had thick, oily pastry spread over the kitchen table and a few cookie cutters out, including those in the shapes of a tree, pig, star, and fish. There were trays of dough and baskets of finished cookies. They were Christmas cookies.

Really? Seriously? Marek looked up at the man in awe. The man was baking Christmas cookies! Stanislav Tichy, the man who had taken a bullwhip to the boy's testicles and a belt to his ass, really, truly was baking Christmas cookies. Marek hadn't even been sure that a man like Tichy even celebrated Christmas, much less … did this. So, after buggering the boy with acid on his cock, fucking his face, whipping his crotch black and bloody, and everything else, Tichy was now apparently going to bake Christmas cookies with the boy like this was an actual, normal Christmas.

It was bizarre. Marek's head was almost spinning. Who was this man?

"Go on," encouraged Tichy as he motioned the boy to help. "Cut the dough, wiggle it out, lift it up, and tap it against the baking tray," ordered Tichy. "Careful, the tray is still hot from the last batch."

Marek eagerly began to help. They ended up baking nonstop for over an hour, making a generous quantity of each of four different kinds of Christmas cookies. There would be plenty to nibble on. Tichy also made a small batch of coconut balls (which didn't need to be baked) and wasp nests.

Marek helped the entire time. He was not there voluntarily, but for that morning, at least, Stanislav Tichy's apartment didn't seem like all that bad a place to be. Marek had fun. For the first time in a long while, he could just be a 12-year-old kid and not worry about anything. Yes, he was naked, and yes, his balls and butt hurt, but baking Christmas cookies and just being busy was fun. He got flour on his stomach and hips as he helped to roll and cut the cookies. He was extra, especially careful when he took the trays from the oven, since unlike Mr. Tichy, he didn't have an apron on or even clothing to keep hot things away from his skin. But it was good and fun, and the boy allowed himself to enjoy it. He knew where he was and who he was with, but he chose to ignore the obvious and simply bake cookies, and that is just what he did.

It still wasn't quite noon when they finished up. Tichy poured himself a mustard-jar sized shot of eggnog, then poured a smaller amount into an actual shot glass that he handed over to Marek.

"Cheers," said Tichy as they touched glasses. "That was some good baking assistance. Want some tea? I think I have Melta, too. We have to taste these to see if we've done a good job," said the man, who seemed to be serious for a moment before Marek caught him stealing a half-suppressed smile. And so Tichy had coffee, and Marek a steaming mug, too, and they ate perníčky and linecké and ořechy and vanilkové rohlíčky, and a coconut ball and a vosí hnízdo each.

The cookies were yummy, perhaps even more so because the boy had helped to make them. It was a nice moment. It was almost like a taste of what life could be like when it wasn't horrible all the time, full of fear, beatings, punishments, sex, rape, and torture. When the man wasn't being nice, he did all those things to Marek, and the boy had been in a near-perpetual state of fear for weeks and weeks on end. That was on top of being unsettled and on edge from the other boys virtually since he arrived at the school. Baking and then eating the cookies without fear had been like an oasis in the desert to the boy, a rare moment of calm in the sea of his life that perpetually swirled with turmoil.

As Marek took his shot of eggnog and clinked glasses to toast their baking, he did another thing he hadn't done in quite a while: he smiled. It wasn't his last smile for the day, or even for the hour, as Mr. Tichy's good mood seemed contagious and the boy for once allowed himself to catch it. Marek was drinking tea and eating cookies with the man, and if it weren't for the fact that he was naked and his testicles and penis looked like they had been involved in their own private horror show, it wouldn't have been a strange scene at all. Even with all that, it was remarkably, calmingly normal.

It truly was a nice moment. Tichy fished in the back of his cupboard and poured a small dash of ersatz Czech rum into his coffee. He seemed relaxed. He tilted his head and looked kindly at Marek, almost like he was contemplating the boy's existence as a human being for the first time.

After six cookies, tea, and eggnog, Marek felt nicely full. On the one hand, the infusion of sugar and caffeine from the tea made him want to run off some energy. On the other hand, the act of digesting all that food made him want to take a nap. When Mr. Tichy tilted his head in a funny way, Marek looked at him and smiled again. It was the kind of unrestrained, organic, genuine kid smile that the boy had not made since the football match with Technoglass so many weeks ago.

It was good. Good and nice, and so achingly normal that Marek almost wanted to cry. He'd had fun. He didn't know much about cooking and even less about baking, but he had enjoyed it. And the expectation that he would get to eat some of those delicious cookies had been in the back of his mind the whole time, as well. They had made far too many of them for Mr. Tichy to eat on his own, and who was he going to give them to if they were both stranded here at the internat? Maybe Ludmila, but how many could she eat? Perhaps quite a lot, given her size …

"You can be a good kid, Marek," said Tichy eventually. "There's a chance for you yet. Go have a rest if you need to but set an alarm. I will test you on that Russian mock and I really don't feel like being mean on a nice day like this, so don't force my hand, will you?" said the man somewhat ominously.

Marek's good mood abruptly dissipated. Even as the man said he could be good his words were accompanied by a warning that the boy knew well enough would be carried out if he didn't perform his studies to expectations. He wished the man was not going to test him on the Russian so soon. He hadn't really spent enough time on the mock test. He was so far behind that he had been trying to catch up on vocabulary. He wasn't sure he was ready to be tested, but what he thought didn't really matter.

Tichy didn't even let Marek do the cleanup and instead tended to the dishes himself, including sweeping and mopping the floor while Marek headed back to the bedroom for a rest. Tichy helped himself to a Startka, took a good big dump, and then went back to his book on this cosy, warm, good-to-be-inside day, even as flurries ripped the grey skies open outside yet again.

Marek felt sleepy and full, but he didn't dare to rest, not even for a second. The boy went straight to the bedroom, down to his hands and knees on the floor, and studied the mock test. He read over the questions and looked the answers up in his Russian textbook. He pulled the vocabulary sheet from his notebook and kept that at the ready, as well. When he got tired of being on his hands and knees, he placed the items on the corner of Mr. Tichy's bed and knelt beside it, reading them over. The only break he took was to use the bathroom, where he was pleased to find that his urine was a normal pale-yellow color and no longer tinged with red, orange, or pink.

It was not until it was almost time for a late lunch that Tichy walked into the bedroom, extracted a thin, whippy, plastic cane from a drawer of his dresser and tapped his hand with it before picking up the Russian mock-exam.

"I hope we won't be needing this, but I need you to know that I'm dead serious about you working hard on improving your grades," said the man.

Marek looked very apprehensive when he saw the cane. Did Mr. Tichy understand how far behind he was in Russian? At least it wasn't the cane, the one that fucking hurt more than anything and drew blood. Marek despised and feared that cane with every fiber of his being.

Without further ado, the man started with the last question on the test, reading it and the multiple-choice options, then gazing down at the still-kneeling boy for the correct answer.

"который из?" he asked.

"Среда?" Marek answered tentatively. He honestly wasn't sure from the passage which day the woman went to the butcher, but it was either Wednesday or Thursday. He went with Wednesday.

Tichy went red in the face and let out a growl. A vein stood out on his forehead. For a moment, he looked like he was just going to beat the shit out of Marek with his fists. Instead, he bent the plastic rod end to end, very nearly breaking it. It sprung back but ended up a little crooked. When the man eventually spoke, he was as good as spitting his words through gritted teeth.

"There are only 30 questions on this mock," he seethed at the boy. "You had time to study yesterday, over an hour this morning, and another hour just now. You have had plenty of time to go over thirty questions, per my specific instructions, using the textbook, the dictionary, and consulting me if you needed to, " He was so angry that he almost choked on his words. He seriously looked like he was going to leap at Marek and just beat the kid to a pulp. It was not a good move on Marek's part to get the very first question wrong.

"You're going to sit in a fucking chair at the fucking table," the man continued. "I don't care how much your balls hurt. You'll sit in a fucking chair, and you will not get up until you have this test memorized. You won't move from the chair except to use the toilet. At 5:00 p.m. today, we'll go through this exam, and you'll get all 30 of these questions right, Marek, or I swear to G- … " he started to say, only just catching himself, "or I fucking swear I'll break this allegedly unbreakable thing over you before I'm done beating the shit out of you, boy. Now go! Sit! And fucking learn!" he roared as he shoved the mock test back into Marek's hands.

Marek's eyes went wide as saucers as the good day he had been having went entirely to shit in the span of roughly 10 seconds. Mr. Tichy looked like a volcano ready to blow its top. He looked like a combination of Mt. Vesuvius and Krakatoa. Marek began to shake like a leaf. His reaction was visceral and Pavlovian. When the man was like this, it meant worlds and worlds of gut-wrenching pain were coming Marek's way. But the thing was, he had been studying. He really had been. He was only 12 and not the best student, so maybe his studying habits weren't all that great, but he had been studying Russian hard for a boy at his level. What he hadn't done, because he didn't know that this was what the man wanted him to do, was memorize the mock test. He probably could have if that's what he had thought Mr. Tichy had wanted him to do.

It just wasn't fair. He had been trying to learn Russian, not memorize the test like a cheat. The boy's eyes glimmered with tears. He had been trying to do the right thing. He was a generally honest boy which was one of the reasons why the initial accusation of cheating had been so unfair. He had thought Mr. Tichy wanted him to learn the subject, not cheat the test. He had been trying to backfill the vocabulary he had neglected to study for weeks so that he would be fully ready for his make-up exam. What he hadn't try to do was memorize the answers to a single mock test.

Now Mr. Tichy was mad at him for trying to do the right thing. Marek had thought he would be punished for memorizing the answers on the mock, but the man didn't care if he really learned Russian; he just wanted him to cheat. He was supposed to memorize the test, not learn the material. It wasn't fair, and the man never would allow him to explain his failure, either. Marek knew from experience that one errant or seemingly defiant word from him now would result in the man unleashing holy hell on him.

The boy was scared shitless. He had tears in his eyes both from the unfairness and the man's anger. He knew that he probably would not be able to escape that anger without a beating, yet he was so very tired of being beaten. He was exhausted from being beaten. He stood up, crying now at the unfairness, to sit in a chair in the kitchen where his balls would throb and ache, all because he had tried to do the right thing. It was one of the reasons he got into so much trouble; he just wasn't used to lying or cheating.

He fucking hated his life, all of it. It was a fucking useless, stupid, worthless life. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he shook with frustration, anger, and fear.

Tichy watched as the clearly upset young boy cowered and cringed his way past him into the kitchen. Marek's instant, silent obedience absolutely was the correct response. Indeed, it was the only possible response, as Tichy was mere inches away from lashing out violently. He didn't understand how hard Marek had tried to study, and he didn't care. From his perspective, he had given the boy the means to fix his horrid grade in Russian, and Marek had defied him by not taking advantage of the gift.

The boy sat, and his balls ached and protested as he knew they would, but that was the least of his concerns. He had to memorize the mock test or Mr. Tichy was going to kill him. Not literally kill him, of course – although the man looked plenty mad enough to do just that – but inflict enough pain and damage on Marek that he would wish he were dead. It was not an environment that was at all conducive to studying, and the boy was consumed with dread. He didn't think that the odds were very good at all of him memorizing the test. Maybe he could memorize the gist of the answers – he had a decent memory after all – but not all the words, the grammar, and everything else. He also would be under pressure. The man would be holding the whippy cane. He would be angry. Marek would be scared. It was not a good situation.

Nevertheless, Marek continued to study, seated at the kitchen table, hour after hour. Tichy relented somewhat as the day proceeded and allowed the boy a mid-afternoon snack break since they hadn't eaten lunch. Marek wasn't hungry at all, but he forced himself to eat – all the while still studying – because eating also was a thing with Mr. Tichy. Everything was a thing with Mr. Tichy. There was cheese, salami, and some apple sauce. But there was also silence and a sense of foreboding in the room. The stakes were high, and Marek knew it.

It took Tichy until the snack break to stop pacing and chain smoking. He had been unexpectedly thrown by the boy's inexplicable, defiant failure. It seemed that Marek simply would not bend to his authority no matter how many times the boy was beaten and punished, and that didn't sit well at all with Stanislaw Tichy. He tried to read but found that he couldn't. He didn't want to drink or smoke to stay under control, so in the end went for a walk despite the cold, snowy, and windy weather. He needed to get out of the house to stay sane and vent his anger because a large part of him wanted to beat the kid within an inch of his life until he learned to obey and do what he was fucking told. It was for Marek's own good that he took a walk. Tichy wanted to hurt the kid bad.

Marek didn't move an inch when the man left the apartment. Instead, he continued to study. He studied like a condemned man. He studied until he had a headache. He studied until his eyes ached. He studied as hard as he could. His balls ached from sitting, but he studied through the pain. He studied and memorized. He did his best, but would it be enough?

Tichy was back just shy of 5:00 p.m. He changed his clothes, grabbed the mock from the kid, and retrieved a pencil. His first question was chosen at random – No. 17 on the mock. This one didn't have options; the student was expected to come up with a reasonably correct answer that demonstrated comprehension from the passage and used proper Russian grammar. The passage was about logging wood and papermaking in Siberia. The correct answer was "spruce and fir are the most commonly used trees in papermaking."

As the man took the mock from him, Marek looked like he was about to face a firing squad. The man asked the first question. Marek knew this one, or … he thought he did.

"Ель и пихта – наиболее часто используемые деревья в производстве бумаги?" he answered tentatively, almost stammering. His pronunciation was atrocious, and he looked uncertain and frightened, but he thought he had gotten it right. He also knew that even if he had, he had 29 questions to go.

"хорошо," replied Tichy as a he placed a check mark by No. 17. And on it went. The Popovi family had five kids, Alex 8, Agniezka 10, Yelena 9, Ivan 12, and Rostia 14. How many younger siblings does Yelena have, and how many older ones? How many sisters does she have?

The exam proceeded in that style. The questions were grouped. Usually, the first question was easy, the second required some thinking but had options, and the third one was a bit more difficult. Tichy was skewering Marek now, requiring full-sentence answers, not going easy on the kid. It almost felt more like a KGB interrogation than prep for a test. But question after question, twenty in a row now, Marek was spitting out the correct answers and Tichy was calming down more and more with each successful response. Question after question came, and finally, No. 30 once again. He had intentionally left that one for last.

Tichy cheered and mussed Marek's hair when he answered No. 30 correctly. He genuinely was happy for the boy and for once glad not to have to beat him.

"Good," he allowed. "It sounds like you're not as confident as you should be at this stage, so do go through the vocabulary again. Check your datives. You seem to be mixing them up with Czech, but they work differently in Russian. They are well explained in chapter twelve of your book; it might be useful even if that's going a bit ahead."

"Before the end of this break, you'll go over the mock again," Tichy continued. "You'll need to know more for a 1, and the test you take will be similar but not identical, but that was an excellent effort. It was probably just bad luck earlier, but well done. You must be tired of reading. Go put some clothes on now, at least your pajamas and slippers."

Marek felt drained. He felt like he had just run a marathon and back. The interrogation-style oral examination he received from the man had set every nerve in his body tingling. He literally was breathing heavily, and he hadn't moved from his chair for hours. He hated Russian now more than ever. He hated this school. He hated his life, but somehow, he had gotten through the test. Barely. If Mr. Tichy were to run the test again, even in the same order, Marek was almost certain that he would mess up to his doom. It had been that close. The boy almost couldn't believe that he had passed. His body was tense all over. He tried to will it to relax and tried to tell himself that it was over.

But, of course, it wasn't over. His day wasn't over. Mr. Tichy had orgasmed precisely once. It was almost 6:00 o'clock. The tired boy knew that he would have to get the man off twice more before bedtime or face yet another punishment. But he had his instructions, and he was surprised to be allowed to dress in clothes. Really? In his pajamas? He almost didn't know what clothes were at this point, but he put them on. He was wary of anything chafing his balls, but pajamas probably were the best clothing to avoid that. He wore his pajamas only, though – no underwear. He didn't want anything rubbing against his scrotum.

Tichy prepared two bowls of a rice, meat, and vegetable mixture – not quite a risotto, but in that same vein – grated some hard cheese on top, and led the way back to the school wing into the school's library, which had a nice, big, color TV. Aside from the staff apartments, it was the only color TV in the entire school, and it was hooked up to a VCR. It was brand new, a gift from a grateful alumnus, or passed off as such, anyway. It was, of course, a western import, because the Eastern Bloc couldn't competently make a consumer good like a TV, much less a color one. Even Tichy himself would admit to that, and he supported the regime.

Tichy popped a nice, classical fairy tale into the VCR and sat on a comfy, upholstered chair, tapping the one next to him, and handing Marek the rice bowl with a fork already stabbed into it. The movie was Cisaruv Pekar, one that Marek probably had seen before and Tichy assumed he would like.

"You earned a break," allowed Tichy. "We'll make an exception to the fourth rule; you only have to make me cum one more time today, but you have to make it count. We'll take care of that when we get back to the apartment. Well done on the learning."

And with that, the fairy tale was on, and once again, shockingly, and just like with the Christmas cookies earlier, things suddenly felt like a normal Christmas again. Marek didn't have a TV at home. His mother had had a black-and-white one once and he remembered seeing it on when he was a little kid, but it had long since stopped working. It now sat of all places in the back vestibule, serving as a table for a basket that held his and his mother's winter hats, gloves, scarves, and earmuffs. His mother probably hoped it could be fixed someday, but it was a big, boxy, outdated pink monstrosity, and it had to be almost 20 years old. It certainly wasn't a color TV like this one.

Even as he watched the movie, Marek's head was spinning once again. The man who tormented him mercilessly was so hard to read. One minute it was as if he hated the boy with a passion, and the next, they literally could be eating cookies or watching a movie together. Only minutes ago, the boy had only just barely – seemingly only by the skin of his teeth – escaped a torturous punishment beating at Mr. Tichy's hands, and now they were settling in for an evening at the movies.

Marek wished he could figure the man out. His very survival as a boy seemed to depend on it, and yet, Mr. Tichy was mercurial and unreadable. Was it really what the boy did that set the man off, or did he just have mood swings that Marek could neither predict nor control? Was it perhaps a combination of both things? Sometimes, Mr. Tichy seemed playful, and other times, he seemed vengeful. Marek never knew which version he was going to get, and it messed with his mind. He had spent the better part of the last two months wallowing in fear and uncertainty, and it didn't look like anything was going to change in the future. A beating always seemed to be looming just around the corner, or something even worse than that.

But as for right now? Marek was dressed. Eating. Watching a movie. And he had been given a respite from his obligations to make the man cum. He had to do it only once more today, not twice. That alone was a huge relief! Marek felt a little bit like he had won the lottery.

He watched the fairy tale on the nicest TV he had ever seen, and it was good. Watching TV was a rare treat for Marek, and he enjoyed it immensely. The movie was quite long, but Marek loved it, and Tichy didn't seem at all fazed by the time they were spending on it. He had even given up one of his three daily cums to make it possible.

"We can watch the second one tomorrow," Tichy said. Cisaruv Pekar famously was a double movie, and both halves were quite popular. "Tomorrow is Christmas, and I hope you're at least fit enough for a walk. I don't think it would be fair to make you study on Christmas day, so I'm not going to do that," he said with a grin.

"Also, you didn't seem terribly absorbed in Capek," Tichy continued. "Not to piss on your advanced choice of literature, but since we're here in the library, do you want to pick something maybe a bit more … immersive?" suggested Tichy. Technically, borrowing a book from the library without Drabek logging it was against the rules, but presumably not for a teacher, and Tichy didn't care anyway. The library was small, but it had a decent young-adult fiction section, as might be expected for a junior high school.

"Have you read Neznalek on the Moon?" asked Tichy as he pointed to a thick, pink book with cartoonish pictures on the cover. The book was almost at the opposite end of the spectrum for Marek from the Čapek, almost too light a read for a boy of 12, but it was funny, and it told a story that wasn't at all babyish.

What Mr. Tichy said about the Capek was true. He had grabbed it from his father's book collection when he left for the school, but he hadn't known much about it except for the robot thing, and it wasn't a very exciting read. He was nervous that the man would ask him not just why he was reading it but how he had come by it. It would be just Marek's luck to find that it was on the banned list.

"No, sir," he replied to the man's question about the moon book. He wasn't familiar with it, and he hadn't had the time to check out any books from the school library. Maybe he should have, in between sex and punishment sessions in Mr. Tichy's office and running for his life from the other boys.

Tichy shoved it in the boy's hands. "Take it. Read it. See what you think. It might be fun, but also educational for you," said Tichy nonchalantly.

Maybe Marek would get that it was a parable of the People's Revolution and that the stupid, greedy, lazy capitalists abusing everyone were like his grandfather, but Tichy hadn't lied about the book being funny. It was about space travel and exploring a new world and had a touch of the absurd to it, with the main character being silly and kind of on the stupid side, which wasn't common in books with a political message. Tichy was an avid communist, but he only recently had chucked a book entitled Concrete, which was supposedly a novel, but it was about nothing more than workers improving a cement factory for the good of socialism. It had no side plot, depth, or anything else redeeming to it. Even Tichy had gotten bored with it and thrown it in the trash as utter crap.

Marek took the book, wondering if he should check it out before realizing the absurdity of that thought. There was no one in the library to check it out for him, and Mr. Tichy obviously intended for him to borrow the book and probably return it before anyone knew it was missing. The boy hoped it was good read, because the man clearly expected him to read it. The boy hoped it wouldn't become a chore, but his expectations were low. After all, what kind of books would a man like Mr. Tichy enjoy that a 12-year-old kid would want to share? But he nodded. He would read it, one way or the other. He wasn't about to risk a beating because he failed to read a stupid children's book that Tichy had recommended to him.

From the library, Tichy led the boy back into his flat, which was noticeably warmer than the rest of the campus. There he slipped out of his shoes and socks.

"You suck cock amazingly, Marek, but sometimes your little ass is just too cute to resist," said the man. "Pajamas off. I want you on the bed, naked. I will not be rough unless you make me be that way," he said ominously, "but it's going up your butt tonight one way or the other. No begging or pouting."

Marek's mood immediately descended into gloom. They were going to have sex, and the man had said earlier that it was going to be memorable. The boy knew full well that memorable for Mr. Tichy meant memorably unpleasant for him, but he wasn't about to say anything and risk incurring the man's wrath. What Stanislav Tichy wanted, Stanislav Tichy got. It was a simple fucking rule to live by, and Marek wished that he could find an equally simple way to follow it, especially here in the man's apartment over the break for the next two weeks.

Marek had estimated that if he could only find a way to control his temper, impulses, and especially his mouth, he could cut the man's brutality at least by half, and that would be a very nice thing in and of itself. He vowed to try, even if for now, trying meant getting through a painful buggering on the night of Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas, he thought to himself as he readied himself for penetration. Merry Fucking Christmas.

NEXT PART