Why I became me - Part 1

What is it that makes me want to submit? What is it that makes me want to act like a whore? What is
it that makes me dress like a slut and fall to my knees in front of a strong man?
It goes back, as all these things do, to c***dhood. My parents split when I was only four years old, in a
working-class family in the 1960's this was quite something. My mother had to become the sole
breadwinner for us both and found it quite a challenge. She became very bitter and hard and started to hate men. She found a boyfriend in the early 70's but he was quite a wimp and left after 18 months and she never had a man (that I knew of) from then on. As she was only in her 30's then it was quite a decision. I think she just wanted to be on her own from that point forward. To that end I was sent
off to a boarding school, being bright I won a scholarship, at the age of 11 and I guess that is where it all began.

Nothing much happened at the school until the second year. I have always been slim and slight and as this was a rugby playing school, a big emphasis on sports, I didn't fit in very well. Academically I was
fine, but when it came to scrumming down, I was a square peg in a round hole. As a result, I was
starting to get picked on. Nothing too sinister at first, just the usual snide remarks about being weak,
a shrimp and a weed. As the months went by one or two of the older boys in my house started to
physically pick on me. Punching me in the back of the head as I walked to class was a fun thing for
them to do. One day I couldn't take it anymore and I snapped, turned around and kicked one of my
tormentors in the balls. It was witnessed by several other k**s, and unfortunately for me, Mr West,
the house-master of one of the other houses in the school.

Mr West was a good friend of my own house-master, Mr Henry, and he told him what had happened.
He left out the detail that I had been punched and just told him that I had kicked the boy in the balls.
Between them they devised a series of punishments that had a rolling effect. Firstly, I had to submit
500 lines within a certain time frame. This was a ludicrously unrealistic amount of time, as almost
every minute of your waking day was taken with lessons, prep (homework without the home) and
sport. If you failed, the next punishment was more severe, a 1000-word essay on the locomotion of a
daisy for example, with a reduced amount of time to complete it in, then six with the slipper, then the
cane, then a 5-mile cross-country run before breakfast.

I suffered all of these punishments right up to the cross-country run. On the morning of the run Mr
Henry told me that when I had completed the run I was to report to Mr West. It was a wet and cold
February morning, still dark at 6 o'clock, and to be honest with you I ran around the corner, and then
hung around for 45 minutes or so and then trotted off to Mr West's house. I was wet through and
when I knocked on his door, I heard him call me into his rooms. I went in to what appeared to be a
study and he was standing there in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

“Have you completed the intermediate course?” he asked.

“Yes sir”.

“Come over here. You don't look as if you are breathing hard enough to have run five miles”.

I moved towards him, feeling angry that he was going to come up with yet another way of making me
feel like hell. He put his hand up the front of my t-shirt and felt my chest.

“No, not breathing hard enough. One more time, did you complete the intermediate course? If you lie
you will regret it”.

“Yes sir, I completed the intermediate course”, I said defiantly.

“I don't believe you” he said. His hand was still on my chest and his fingers moved up to my left nipple
and he slowly started to pinch it.

“The truth. I want the truth” he said in a low and even voice.

“I ran it sir, honestly, I ran it” I said, my voice higher as the fingers gripped my nipple. No one had ever
touched me there before and it hurt. His grip tightened and he started to force me down onto my
knees.

“The truth, I want the truth” he repeated. This time he snarled. Tears were starting to form in my eyes.

“No sir, I'm sorry sir, I didn't do the course”.

“I can sniff a lie from half a mile away. I have been in this job too long to not recognise a feeble lie like
that. As you know, there is an escalating scale of punishments that you are slowly but surely climbing.
We have tried boredom, we have tried pain and we have tried physical exercise. What's left?”

I kept quiet. His fingers were still gripping my nipple and the pain was excruciating. By this time, I was
down on my knees and my forehead was moving towards the floor. He was bending over me and his
grip started to twist my left nipple so hard I thought he was trying to rip it off.

“What's left?” he repeated. Suddenly he released his grip and straightened up.

He looked at me with distaste on his face. My gym kit was soaked through and my plimsolls were
leaving small puddles on his parquet floor.

“I asked you a question. Answer me”.

“I don't know sir”.

“Mr Henry and I have been watching you. You keep to yourself, don't associate with the other boys.
That is good for what we have in mind for you. You are less likely to complain.”

“I don't understand sir. What do you want me to do?”

“Mr Henry and I are going to mould you into something that will be of value to us. You are going to be trained to do as you are told. You are going to become useful to us and you will be the start of a new venture. Everything we tell you to do, you will do, with no arguments, no questioning and no
hesitation. If you do not do so you will be disciplined. Harshly. Do you understand?”

“Not really sir”.

“That is questioning. I'll let that go, for now, but it will not be tolerated in the future. You are no longer
subject to your own free will. You are here, in this school, friendless and weak. Mr Henry and I are
here, in this school, powerful and strong. You are in a position of weakness and we are in a position
of strength. Therefore, you will submit and we will dominate. Is that any clearer for you?”

“Yes sir” I said, not really understanding but thinking if I play along, I'll be able to get out of there.

“For example,” he continued, “you are kneeling on my highly polished parquet flooring dripping water
on it. It is making a mess and it is going to need cleaning up. What is the solution to this problem?”

“Clean it up sir?”

“That is a partial solution. It still doesn't stop the dripping of water on my floor. How do we stop that?

“I don't know sir”.

“We remove the cause of the dripping from the scene. How do we do that?”

“I can leave the room sir”, I said hopefully.

He smiled, but not with his eyes. I would get to know that look and learn to fear it.

“No boy, you are not leaving the room. We simply remove the clothes and put them in the bathroom.
Through that door”, he indicated a door to the left of the room.

“Sorry sir, but did you say that I should take of my clothes?” I asked, not quite believing what he said.

“Questioning again”, he said. “If you haven't removed the wet objects from my floor in 30 seconds
and in the way I have directed then I will punish you severely. NOW DO IT!” he barked.

“I can't take my clothes off in front of you sir, that wouldn't be right”.

He took two strides towards me, and grabbing my hair in his left hand pulled my head up and delivered
a stinging hard slap to my face. My ears rung and tears again started to form in my eyes.

“YOU WILL OBEY ME BOY” he shouted at me. His face was twisted in a snarl and little flecks of spittle
spayed my face. “YOU WILL OBEY ME” he shouted again as his hand raised to slap me again.

“Yes sir” I whimpered, instinctively ducking my head to avoid the next blow. It didn't land. He pulled
me upright by my hair, looked at me and said,
“Do it”.

I pulled of my wet t-shirt and then bent over to unlace my plimsolls. I took them off and then paused. I really didn't want to take off my shorts.
He noticed the hesitation.

“You have fifteen seconds left”. There was that smile again.

The wet material stuck to my skinny thighs as I pulled my shorts down. My heart was pounding. This
didn't feel right at all. I was scared as I have never been before in my life. I had no idea where this was
going.

“And the pants” he said. All the time that smile played over his lips.

I slowly put my thumbs into the waist band of my underpants. I couldn't do this.

“I'm sorry sir, but this isn't right. I can't do this sir, I'm sorry” I pleaded.

The smile got wider.

“Five seconds to get them off and into the bathroom. I don't think you are going to make it are you?”

“Please sir, I can't. I'm sorry, please don't make me sir”.

“Three, two, one, oh dear. Look at you, snivelling like a little queer. “Please sir, I can't”” he mocked.

He turned his back and moved over to his desk. There were piles of text and exercise books heaped
on it. He opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a wooden ruler, twelve inches in length
and about an inch wide. He sat on the leather desk chair and turned to face me.

“Come here”.

I moved towards him. My knees were shaking and my wet skin was making me shiver. Goosebumps
raised on my arms and my little nipples were stiff. I was scared.

As I reached him his arm snaked out and grabbed me by the waist. With a twist I was laying over his
lap. Without a sound his right arm slashed down and the ruler crashed into my buttocks. Quickly, and
without a sound he hit me again, and again. Six times in all. It was all so fast that I couldn't do anything other than gasp. He pushed me off his lap and onto the floor. He stood over me, that smile still there.

“And the pants”, he said in an even tone.

Sitting on the floor crying, my bum stinging like never before, I meekly complied. I slid them down and
for the first time since I was a baby, I was naked in front of someone else. Cold and shivering I sat there, tears sliding over my cheeks.

“Put them in the bathroom. In the bath to be on the safe side. I don't want more water on my floor.
And stop snivelling. You sound like a little girl.”

Holding my pants in front of me I gathered up my gym kit and went into the bathroom. I put the wet
clothes into the bath, and not knowing what to do next I just stood there, crying in pain and shame. I
must have been in there a minute or two when I heard his voice call from the study.

“Did you forget where the door was? Come back out here”.

I moved timidly back into the study, my head bowed and my hands cupping my tiny cock and balls.
He was still sitting in the chair. He crooked a finger to indicate I should approach him. I stood in front
of him, my mind almost blank. I didn't know what to do. My face stung from the slap and my buttocks
were red from the ruler and I was still crying, albeit silently.

“Put your hands on your head” he said, the age-old way of teachers telling pupils to stop messing
about coming easily to his lips. I put my hands on my head in the age-old way of pupils doing what
teacher said. Too late, I realised I was showing him all I had.

He reached out and slowly cupped my cock and balls in his hand. They were engulfed. His hand was
big and my dick and balls were small. He slowly, but firmly, started to squeeze them. The pressure was
growing. And I could feel my body responding. I was starting to get hard. He slowly started to alternate
between a hard and soft squeeze, pulsing my little nub into hardness. He smiled that smile. Then with
a firm grasp he started to twist them. Pulling them down and twisting to the left, and then to the right.
Little sparks started to burst in my head as the pain built up. Then he started to pull towards the floor.
I had to bend my knees, and he kept pulling. Soon I was kneeling on the floor. All the time I knew that
if I cried out, I would get the ruler again.

When I was on my knees, he released me. My cock and balls felt bruised but I was stiff. I was only
small but I had never been stiff like this before.
He opened his dressing gown and I looked instinctively at the movement. I could see the crotch of his pyjama trousers were bulging. He grabbed my hair again; I was starting to learn that this was a
favourite tactic of his. He pulled back so I was looking directly into his eyes.

“You have been very reluctant to do as you are bid. I keep this ruler as a tool of correction and to train
reluctance out of a boy. You will remember that won't you?"

“Yes sir.”

I was still cold and shivering and I was still stiff from his less than gentle ministrations moments earlier.

“From now on, if I tell you to do something, I want it done. Immediately and without hesitation and
question. If you don't do as you are told you will feel the ruler. And not only on your buttocks. Understand?”

“Yes sir” I said, although I didn't.

Where else would he use his ruler other than on my buttocks? As if he was reading my mind, he reached for the ruler with one hand and my stiff cock with the other and whacked me across the length of my dick. I doubled up in pain and collapsed on the floor.
He put the ruler down and pulled my hair until I was kneeling again, and looking into his eyes again.
“I have a new task for you. Something you wouldn't have done before, although you might have heard
of it. You are going to perform an act called fellatio. You might have heard of it by the vulgar name of
a “blow job”, but I am here to educate so we will use the correct term. When you perform fellatio,
you will be uncomplaining and compliant. As always you will do so without question or hesitation.”

Still pulling on my hair with his left hand he reached into the fly of his pyjama trousers and pulled out
his cock and balls. It was the first cock other than my own I had ever seen and it, to my eyes, was huge.
Stiff and with fat veins pulsing along its length, his foreskin was pulled back slightly. I could see the
eye of his helmet where a small bead of clear fluid glistened. It was surrounded by a thick mass of
course hair and beneath it hung a huge pair of balls.

“Open your mouth. Wide”.

I opened my mouth. I had no choice. He pulled me by the hair towards the tip.

“Stick out your tongue.”

He inched his cock forward until the tip rested on my tongue.

“Lick it. Lick it along the length.”

I worked my tongue down the underside of this huge cock until I got to his balls. Then pulling my hair
to direct me I came back up the length. Up and down, up and down.

I was crying at the humiliation of it. But I was too weak to do anything about it.

Quickly he pulled my hair and forced the tip of his member into my mouth. I could taste the glistening
bead on my tongue. Salty. He slowly thrust deeper onto my mouth. My jaw was open as wide as it
could go, but he was too big. With an impatient grunt he pushed my head down onto the hard, fat
cock and I could feel the gag reflex starting. I was choking. He didn't stop. He pushed until I felt the
end of his b**st block my throat. I gagged but his hand held my head firm. I couldn't breathe and I felt
panic raise itself in my chest. Still, he held my head. I tried to twist away but the fingers in my hair held
me fast.

Then he released me. I gasped for breath as I collapsed onto the floor once again.

He stood up and took off the dressing gown and then stripped off his pyjamas. His was a middle-aged man, running to seed. He had a hairy paunched belly and chest, but to a twelve-year-old skinny runt, he was a full-blown man. He reached down and grabbed me by the hair again. and dragged me over to a sofa, where he made me kneel. He then knelt on the sofa facing away from me and spread his
buttocks. “You will lick the entrance to my anus.”
My head was in a whirl. All this had happened in fifteen minutes. The worse thing about it was that I
was still stiff. I shouldn't be.

“You will lick the entrance to my anus” he repeated firmly.

I was in no doubt that I would regret not doing it. I hesitantly inched forward and tentatively stuck out my tongue. I started to give little laps around his sphincter. I was rewarded by little groans of pleasure from Mr West. He was giving little pushes of his muscles and I could feel his anus pulsing under my ministrations. He reached back and pulled my head harder into the cleft of his buttocks and I responded by trying to push my tongue into his tight ring. More grunts of pleasure came from him, rumbling through his barrel chest.

“You learn fast” he gasped, “keep licking my ring, lick it harder, push your tongue in. Yes, that's it”.

I lapped away like a cat at a milk bowl. I didn't want another punishment today.

“Yes, you seem to like that” he grunted, “you want to do this don't you?”.

And I started to feel that I did.

He stopped me, turned around and forced my mouth back onto his engorged, veiny cock. A few thrusts
and all of a sudden, I could feel it starting to throb. Then without further warning he groaned and my
mouth was filling up with fluid that was spurting from the end of his cock. His fingers grabbed my hair and forced my mouth deeper over his prick and still the juice spurted out. I could do nothing but
swallow. It was leaking out from the side of my mouth and smearing along the shaft with each pump.

And then it slowed. He released me.

“Clean up the mess with your mouth”.

I licked the salty juice from along the length of him. I licked up every last drop.

“Get dressed.”

I went back into the bathroom and put on my wet clothes. When I returned to the study, he was sat
at his desk marking some of the exercise books. Without looking at me he said “Report to Mr Henry
and tell him that you didn't do the intermediate course and that you have been punished. You may
also make him aware that you should also have a punishment from him as it was his orders you
disobeyed. I expect to see you back here in the next day or two where I will set out some more
conditions of your new situation. You may go.”