Disclaimer:
This story contains graphic scenes of sex with a minor. Such activity is illegal and, if indulged in, could get you into serious trouble. The tale is fictional and the characters are imaginary. It's relevant, however, to the serious social problem of yobbish, teenage behaviour which exists in Britain today.
Don't read this if these scenes are likely disturb you. If you are broad minded and believe that stroppy kids need discipline, then.....enjoy!
By the time I was 14 years old my behaviour had become extremely anti-social. My mother worked hard to support us while I did nothing round the house. I terrorised the neighbours and had got at least one girl pregnant. My school reports were a disaster area.
Finally giving up on her attempts to control me, my mother decided to consult the guy who had just moved in next door. He was a Sergeant Major in the Army, a big, black Jamaican who nobody in their right mind would try to mess with.
That evening he came round to my house. I was about to get ready to go out but he told me that from now on I would be going nowhere without his permission. My protests were cut short by a brusque order to go to my room and wait for him.
Well, he was too big to argue with and he had the keys of both front and back doors in his pocket so what else could I do? I wasn't worried, after all what could he do to me? I expected him to give me a lecture. Big Deal! I'd heard it all before and ignored everything I was told.
Mr Johnson believed in keeping people waiting. It was a good quarter of an hour before I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, plenty of time to start getting a few butterflies in my tummy. The door opened.
"I guess you know why I'm here, boy, so we won't waste any time."
There was a full length mirror on the wall of my room. He picked up a chair and positioned it in front of the glass.
"Drop your pants and bend over the chair!"
"Get stuffed,!"
He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back.
"That's an extra stroke for arguing. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way.....it's up to you."
My mind worked quickly. I was tough, I could stand a spanking so.......let's get it over with. Reluctantly I took off my trackies.
"Boxers as well, kid."
Shit! He wasn't going to humiliate me by making me expose my bare ass was he? I might have been tough but I was prudish about exposing that part of my body to other guys. Reluctantly I slid off my boxers, ashamed of the all too visible skid marks and piss stains.
"We might need those in a minute. Now! Bend over that chair!"
My mind seething furiously I reluctantly obeyed him.
"Look in the mirror and keep looking!"
I looked in the mirror. Mr Johnson took up position behind me Slowly he pulled his thick leather belt out of the loops of his camos. Raising his arm he took a swing and brought the doubled up length of it down across the top of my buttocks. The shock made me scream.
"Here! Bite on these!" he told me, pushing my boxers into my mouth. "We don't want all your tough friends to hear you whimpering like a girl if they're hanging about outside."
I bit down on the mouthful of cotton material. Ugh! They tasted pretty foul. I began to wish I'd changed them more often like Mum was always telling me to.
I could only give a muffled gasp as the next stroke seared into my bum, neatly placed just below the first one. The third one was excruciating, making me piss myself all over the carpet.
The remaining four strokes turned my ass into a raging furnace. I had never imagined such pain and humiliation. Tears ran down my face and I sobbed uncontrollably as Mr Johnson took the boxers out of my mouth.
"It's all right boy, it's over. You won't have to go through that again as long as you behave yourself."
Mr Johnson reached into his pocket and took out a tube of ointment.
"I'm going to rub this into your ass, it will help the welts to heal quickly."
Shit! He wasn't going to start groping my bum now, was he? I flinched as I felt the big hands on my posterior, hell, nobody had ever touched my butt before. With smooth circular motions, he massaged the cream into my flaming bottom. Gradually the unbearable pain turned into a sensation of pleasant warmth. Oohh..h h..... It felt good, almost worth being spanked for. I relaxed into a dreamy state as the skilled hands did their magic work. I was hardly aware of it when his fingers started to work the soothing cream into the crack of my ass. It felt so relaxing!! Even when they found my virgin boy hole and started to massage it I didn't resist.
"Look in the mirror, boy"
Obediently I looked in the tall glass. Mr Johnson had put down the cream and was undoing the top button of his camos. Unzipping them he let them fall to the floor. I watched in what had become a helpless, soporific state as his white briefs followed them revealing an erect penis well suited to the rest of the man's physique, beneath which dangled a pair of ping pong ball sized testicles.A wave of inferiority washed over me as I mentally compared them with my own puny equipment which had, until this moment, entitled me to the title of neighbourhood stud. The big black man pulled his tee shirt over his head and stood, fully naked and erect, behind the helpless orifice which, I now realised, was going to have to accomodate him.
Mr Johnson pulled my cheeks apart.
"Looks a bit tight, boy! You a cherry?"
"Yyyess sir."
"OK. Sniff this!" He held a small bottle under my nose. I sniffed and the panic which had gripped my rear end started to vanish.
"You been a bad boy, Darren! Now you gonna learn respec'. I gonna make you my bitch so you always obedient to me. What are you?"
"Yyyour bitch, sir".
"How am I going to make you my bitch".
"You're going to fffuck me sir".
"Yeah, riiight!. Gonna fuck that dirty little honky shithole, spunk it an' give you a black baby!"
So saying he slid his potent engine between my buttocks and positioned it against my hole. Suddenly I thought of my mates. Shit! What would they say if they found out the neighbourhood stud had let himself be screwed in the butt. It was too late to worry about that. The huge knob was battering at my entrance.The guy was an expert. He kept pressing it against the hole then relaxing patiently until, after about a dozen applications of pressure my ringpiece opened and the big, purple knob slipped easily in. It wasn't so easy to get the rest of the sturdy shaft inside me. It must have taken five minutes of repeated pushing and partial withdrawals, gaining a little ground each time, before I felt his balls against my ass cheeks. With his stalwart prick fully embedded in my rectum, Mr Johnson started to work my hole slowly and thoroughly. There was no need to bite on the boxers again. The sensation of being fucked was no more than slightly uncomfortable, rather like being in need of a shit but not urgently. Then I realised my own cock was starting to get hard. I tried to cover it with my hands but the big, black man ordered me to take them away.
"You a real queer, boy! You enjoying this!" he accused.
Humiliation fought with pleasure as the mighty engine ploughed on. With mounting panic I realised that the pressure on my prostrate was causing the familiar build up. Shit! I mustn't disgrace myself by coming!. That would make me a real fag!. Try as I might I couldn't hold back. The spunk surged up my pisspipe and splattered over the mirror. My ring piece contracted in a series of uncontrollable spasms, causing Mr Johnson to utter a triumphant cry as he spunked my boy womb with the contents of his capacious black balls.
"OK boy! We nearly finished. Jus'gotta make sure you've learned who's boss."
So saying he took his cock out of my well- stretched and dripping hole and came round to my front, offering it up to my mouth.
"Right! Get this cleaned up! Suck it , snowball!."
Oh No! He wasn't going to make me suck his dirty black cock was he? I thought of resistance but immediately realised the futility of disobeying this alpha male figure. I dutifully opened my mouth and he inserted his tool into it. My lips closed on it and my tongue started to remove the mixture of his spunk and my ass juices. I gagged a bit at first but then realised the bitter almond taste was turning me on.When he was satisfied he took it out of my mouth.
"Last test now, now boy and it's all over."
He turned round and presented his strapping backside to my face.
"Kiss that ass, boy!"
I tentatively licked at the massive , black butt cheeks.
"Not like that, get your tongue in that shithole and work it good.!"
Unable to resist, my tongue sought the purple pucker hidden in his cleft. In reponse to his urgings I put my tongue right in and tongue fucked him for a least ten minutes before he moved away.It was real musky and I guessed he hadn't washed his ass after his last dump.
" Good boy Darren. Now you've learned respect! You know what you gotta do now, up at six every morning and do the chores for your Mum, every time you pass a grown up you will say, Goodmorning Sir or Ma'am, if you see any litter in the street you will pick it up, and you will do the garden for the old people over the road. Also I expect to see a good report at school. Not only that, you will volunteer as a choirboy at the church."
"You bet, Mr Johnson, sir!"
"Now I need a piss.Where's the bathroom?"
"Please Mr Johnson, I'm your bitch. If you want to you can piss all over me." I could hardly believe what I was saying.
I took him into the bathroom where he hosed the mixture of shit and cum off my ass before spraying me all over, his piss marking me out as his bitch. It was a tremendous relief to give up my self willed ways and surrender to a stronger power. He saved the last half pint for my mouth and I swallowed it down eagerly.
.
He held out his hand and we shook hands.
It was not long before Mr Johnson's success in reforming me became known and the parents of another half dozen unruly boys asked for his help. Before long the neighbourhood was transformed. Free from the threat of vandalism and graffitti, people started to spend money on their houses and gardens. The streets were spotless. Property values started to soar. The choir was the best our church had ever had.
As Mr Johnson's bitches, me and my mates,although he had made us queer, were not allowed to have sex with one another.Every month we would be ordered to assemble and Mr Johnson, or sometimes one of his army mates, would fuck one of us while the others were made to watch.We weren't allowed to wear hoodies, baseball caps or trainers, well pressed trousers and shiny shoes were the order of the day. Also we were forbidden to fuck the local girls. Instead Mr Johnson gave us permission to fuck women past the change of life.
"They don't tell, they don't swell and they're grateful." he told us.
The older women in our community now had something other than going to Bingo to look forward to and, assured of a ready supply of boy cock, there were many more happy faces to be seen among them. Unmarried teenage pregnancies almost disappeared, to the great joy of parents and the taxpayers who previously had to support them.
I passed all my school exams, got a scholarship to Cambridge, read law, became a highly successful barrister and now, 40 years on, I'm a High Court judge. My erstwhile gang mates were all equally successful in their different careers.
And what of Mr Johnson? Sad to say, he taught respect to one tearaway too many and one of my colleagues on the Bench had the sad but unavoidable duty of sending him down. Never mind, with good behaviour he will be out in four years. We shall make sure his time inside is as comfortable as possible, the Governor of his jail is one of "Johnson's Bitches" and is looking forward to his help in teaching respect to some of the young yobs with which I and my fellow judges will keep him supplied. An IT hiccup will ensure he never appears on the Sex Offenders Register.
Now I'm off to a dinner party. It's the annual reunion of my local branch of Johnson's Bitches. I'm looking forward to meeting old friends. Admiral Rootbottom will be there, as will the Minister for Wayward Youth, Major-General "Cherry" Snatcher, The Arch Bishop of Porkboys, the General Secretary of the National Union of Ring Stretchers and various other representatives of the great and the good. The Governor of Borstal is bringing some of his charges to entertain us.
It's a pity our President cannot attend but we shall be raising our glasses to his memory in our usual toast.
"RESPECT!!!".