Boarding School (18 page)

At the moment of impact, the other three guys had let me go. The force from the leader’s hand spun my head around hard enough to take the top half of my body along with it. I then landed face down in the water behind me. Uncertain then, as to whether or not I had yet regained enough strength to move on my own, I became afraid that I was about to drown. But before I could panic, I felt hands grab me and pull me back up into my sitting position. The three sets of hands then returned to their assigned places on my back, upper arms and hair which was now soaked clear through.

“Are you gonna remember to suck from now on?” the leader thundered.

“Yes,” I gasped. “I promise I’ll do better,” I said as I felt water pour from my bangs and down over my face.

“Auhauh!” SPLASH!

I then looked over in time to see Matt land on his face in his water. The guy in front of him had just slapped him as hard as the leader had slapped me. Immediately then, another guy put his hands on Matt and sat him upright again. As I then watched water pour from Matt’s bangs and flow down over his face, I could tell from his expression that this experience had shaken him. Then the head waiter spoke again.

“You didn’t suck when you did me either. Are you gonna remember to suck from now on?” the head waiter demanded.

“Ah huh,” Matt agreed. “I’m sorry. I won’t make that mistake again. I promise, too.” Although I could tell that he wanted to cry again, Matt was too frightened at this moment to do so.

“All right then,” the leader spoke again. “If you guys wanna try to do a better job this time, we’ll give ya another chance.

“Thank you,” Matt answered. “Yes, I wanna try to do it better.”

“Yeah,
me
too,” I said also. And we really meant it.

The guy behind me then removed his hands and I felt my wet head flop forward again until my chin was resting on my chest. As the leader then walked around behind me to take over this guy’s job, I tried to lift up my head on my own, but I still couldn’t do it very well. A moment later, I could feel the leader’s fingers making their way through my soggy strands as he clamped the heels of his hands against my temples. When I could look ahead again I watched as another pair of jeans came off and another penis in full erection was presented to me.

I glanced over at Matt again and saw that another bare ass, from my vantage point, was standing close to his face. Then hands grabbed our cheeks and penises were jammed into our mouths again.

This time, Matt and I tried harder to please our masters. But in our still weakened conditions, all of our effort took their toll on us, and we began to groan every time we pressed down hard with our lips—which was every time we did a stroke.

“Ummmph! Ummmph! Ummmph! Ummmph!” Matt began to groan first. Throughout the encounter so far, I had been trying to keep myself from making any noise. I figured that any sound I made would distract the current occupant of my mouth and make him mad at me. But before long, the strain became too much and I could no longer hold it back either.

“Ummmph! Ummmph! Ummmph! Ummmph!” Just like Matt, I began to groan with every stroke. But the hits for not keeping quiet never came. In fact, the sounds that Matt and I were now making actually seemed to stimulate these guys even more. So for the next twenty minutes or so, as the rest of them took their turns with us, the steady groans from two thirteen-year-old boys joined the chorus which rose into the late night air from our rain-soaked field, and sounded much like two high-pitched bullfrogs—just croaking away peacefully in their ponds.

When the wake-up bell went off the next morning, Matt and I found that we ached everywhere. At first, just getting out of our beds was a struggle. But with a great amount of effort, we somehow managed to pull ourselves together and make our way over to breakfast on time.

Besides some bruising and some swelling on our faces, the cut on the corner of Matt’s mouth was still visible, and I had acquired a black eye from one of the things that had collided with my face—the leader’s fist or the ground. If we had walked into a school room back home in Colorado looking the way we did, the kids there would have been all over us with questions about what had happened to us. But people in Massachusetts were different. I guess they had all been raised to not involve themselves in the lives of others or something, because as Matt and I entered the dining hall and sat down at our table, none of the sixty other kids or five teachers in that room said a word to either of us about our appearance. It was only after we had begun to eat when Frank, naturally, finally perked up and offered a question.

“You two get into a fight or something?” he asked.

“No,” Matt answered succinctly.

And that was all that was ever said on the matter. Nothing more was ever mentioned to either of us again by anyone. It made Matt and me wonder if the entire school was in on this bizarre lifestyle which we were now so thoroughly caught up in.

After that morning, things for us just became stranger. For the next two weeks, the eight upperclassmen made it a point to occupy almost all of our free time. What surprised us both was that these perverts began to treat Matt and me as if we had become their best buddies. Apparently, since we had gone through the first phase of their “initiation” and emerged from the ordeal the way they had wanted, we were now considered to be part of their gang and as such, were entitled to experience their version of camaraderie and reward. Matt and I went to our classes and attended all of the meals as usual, and every night we continued to observe study hall and lights out just as if everything in our lives was unchanged, but the rest of the time there was nearly always at least two of them hanging around us.

This next phase of our initiation into—we had no idea what—commenced the night following the encounter in the pine field which, coincidentally, happened to fall on a Saturday night. Most weekends, the headmaster left the campus and stayed away until early Monday morning. This weekend, as it turned out, was no different for him. Nobody ever knew where he went all these times, but presumably he tried to use these occasions to pursue a private life of his own. One thing we were all pretty sure of, though, was that our headmaster most likely spent all of these days and nights in an altered state, and these excursions into weekend-long drunkenness made it possible for him to remain mostly sober when he was with us during the week.

On this particular Saturday night, two of them appeared at our door at about the time the warning bell sounded for dinner. They told us that we would not be eating in the dining hall that night and then they made some vague statement about having something special planned for us instead. After that, they walked us over to the headmaster’s house, which we knew had been vacated by the man only a couple of hours earlier. It was there where we then met up with the rest of the gang.

As head proctor, the leader had keys to everything. So it didn’t seem odd at all that one of the keys on his ring opened the front door to the headmaster’s house. At first Matt and I figured we were in for more of the same sort of activity we had participated in the night before, and we decided right away that having to perform inside, at least, would be better than being cold and wet outside. But instead, we were amazed to learn that we were being treated to an evening of pizza and a movie. Apparently one of the eight had been able to borrow the school’s van and had returned from town with a bunch of pizzas for the ten of us. They had also, somehow, gotten their hands on a copy
of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.
So our exclusive little group spent that Saturday night eating pizza and watching the movie on the school’s projector, in the headmaster’s living room. It was almost fun.

I say almost because by this time, I no longer felt as if humor could ever be a part of my life again. As I watched the movie, I saw a lot of actors I liked, and there were plenty of scenes which I normally would have found very funny. But except for the scene at the end, where Ethel Merman slips and falls in front of the others in the hospital—how could anyone not laugh at that—I didn’t laugh once throughout the entire film. And it was the same for Matt too.

When the movie had finally ended, the leader then stood up in front of us and began to speak. The time had come, apparently, for the ground rules to be laid down for just how we were going to be expected to conduct ourselves from here on out. In the process, we learned a little more about this gang’s version of life at the Academy, which, of course, was information which had been left out of the school’s catalog.

It seemed that every one of the eight bigger kids who were there in the head’s house with us that night had been where we now were. All of them had, at one time, been first-year students who had been culled from their grade and forced into going through the same sort of initiation that Matt and I had just suffered through. Then each year, as a new crop of younger boys came along and new slaves were selected, their seniority had allowed these guys to move up in the pecking order—which they referred to, of course, as “the pecker order.” We were all expected to perform sex acts on demand, but only for people who were older than we. Also, it seemed that as these guys had aged up, sex duties were gradually replaced by some other activity, but we couldn’t figure out just what that was on this occasion. The one exception to these rules was the leader. Because he was the gang’s leader, he had won the right to have no such requirements placed on him.

Matt and I were further told that if we stayed attentive and always did as we were instructed, without complaint or hesitation, we would be part of a privileged few and entitled, therefore, to special rewards like this pizza party. At the same time, it was made very clear to us that any failure by Matt or by me to execute these requirements would result in the most dire of punishments being meted out to the both of us. So although Matt and I were powerless to help each other when these guys were really after us, if we remained compliant and obsequious, we did possess the ability to prevent each other from being beaten up.

So, as it turned out, things would improve for us somewhat once we got older, but at the same time there was no doubt to either of us that our lives had indeed been changed forever and our roles as sex slaves were permanent. Then something happened that Matt and I probably should have expected, but hadn’t.

That night, after the pizza and the movie and the speech, this group of eight introduced Matt and me to marijuana. Despite its popularity in those days, nether Matt nor I had ever had an interest in experimenting with drugs. It just didn’t fit the kind of kids we were. But knowing full well what we would be in for if we refused to go along, we accepted the joints they placed in our hands and began solemnly to draw the smoke into our bodies.

At first we had the typical reaction that boys will have when they take up smoking. Throughout the rest of the evening, we spent more time coughing than we did inhaling, and as a result, the drug never seemed to have any effect on us at all. But for each day that followed, the upperclassmen kept after us to keep trying until by about the third or fourth day, we had managed to overcome our urges to cough. On that day, for the first time in our young lives, Matt and I both discovered what it was like to become high—and we liked it. From then on, we couldn’t get enough of the stuff.

As the days wore on, Matt and I tried each day to smoke more pot than we had smoked the day before. This pleased the others so they made certain that we always had an ample supply of the drug. Before long, we were running back to our room after lunch every day to have a joint, and then after classes we’d smoke on and off for the rest of the day until lights out.

Drugs were everywhere at the Academy and there was never any effort made by the faculty to interfere with their use. Actually, looking back on it now, I suspect the teachers preferred the students on drugs because it tended to subdue them so that the occasions for conflict were reduced. As long as we didn’t pull out a joint in the middle of class and light it up in front of the teacher, the school always looked the other way on the subject of drug abuse. After all, every enrolled student was a paying customer for the school’s owner. And a tuition check from a parent whose kid was allowed by the Academy to become strung out on drugs was better than no tuition check from a parent whose boy had gotten kicked out of school for drugs.

Eventually, Matt got so into pot that he started carrying around a roach clip all the time so he could sneak outside behind Ulster Hall and take a few tokes between classes. At our ever increasing rate of consumption, it didn’t take long before Matt and I gave up altogether on the soccer team and chose instead to hang around the upperclassmen all afternoon so we could continue to get high. These daily retreats were usually held in the leader’s room since his was bigger than anyone else’s and because he was the only student at the Academy who was allowed to have a TV. It also became routine for Matt and me to service at least a couple of these guys every day at these gatherings.

“Clint, come over here, kid.” It would always start out this way. One of them would summon me over to stand in front of him. Usually this would happen during a commercial. So, I’d stand up right away and walk over to the chair or the couch where the guy was sitting. “Yes, sir?” I’d answer while trying to sound just as pleased as I could be to provide him with this service. By this time it had become second nature for Matt and me to call these guys, sir.

“Suck me off, will ya, Clint?” the bigger kid would order.

“Yes, sir,” I would then sink to my knees and unzip his pants so I could use my fingers to dig out his penis. Then, when I had the member extended out from the guy’s blue jeans, I would lean forward and go down on him.

Usually by the time this guy was beginning to react to my stimulation, another guy in the room would decide that he could do with a blow job as well. So this second guy would then wait for me to finish so he could tell me to come on over and do him next, or he would call on Matt to do the job. It just depended upon which one of us seemed more appealing to him that day.