Leonard

Derek on the Island

The boy woke up slowly.

He was sprawled on the ground, in the middle of the woods. His small legs were bent a little bit at the knees, each extended on the ground in a different direction. One arm had fallen underneath his body when I'd dumped him down, while the other was extended out across the ground. He had a baseball cap over light brown hair, glasses over blue eyes and a babyish face. I was watching him, sitting on a log about ten meters away. I could see the boy's breathing, his belly rising up and down with each breath. As he'd fallen, his shirt and sweater had come up a little bit and I saw a bit of his stomach right up to the belly button, the white flesh soft as he gently breathed in and out. It had taken all my self control not to jump him right there, to undress him and see what I had. But I wanted to savor the moment.

The boy started to stir, but he just turned on his side, arms coming up and under his head. I could see him start to wake up, start to realize that he was outdoors, that there was a forest floor underneath him. He groggily sat up, saw me looking at him.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hi," I answered warmly. I don't think he noticed the bulge in my pants. "What's your name?"

"Derek," he said. "What happened?"

He started to pull himself up, which was when he noticed that there was a loop of rope tied around one of his ankles and extending out to a tree. As he stood up, he looked at me. "What's going on?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"I didn't want to have to chase you," I answered, and started to walk towards him.

The boy was maybe eight years old. I saw the fear enter his eyes as he backed away and ran, only to fall when the rope extended to its maximum. He reached down and struggled to untie it but it was too late. My shadow fell onto his face, and he looked up at me with wide eyes.

"What's happening?" he said. "Please, where am I?"

In answer, I sat down next to him, picked him up and sat him on my lap. My hands reached down to his waist and started to feel up his torso. By then my fingers were cold with tension, and I pressed them into the warm flesh of his belly. The boy shivered at the touch. He tried to kick out, tried to stand up, but I kept pushing him down.

I lay my chin on his shoulder. My ear was against his tiny ear; my left cheek felt the warmth of his right cheek and a divine feeling spread through me. I could feel his hairs on my forehead; I could hear his heavy breathing, in and out, filled with tension.

"You," I said, "are mine. Everything about you is mine. Your tummy," I pressed into the flesh again, "is mine. Your nipples are mine. Your face is mine. Your penis is mine." The boy just looked down at the ground. He didn't try to meet my eyes. He didn't say anything. He just looked down.

I pressed him closer to me, and my pelvis involuntarily thrust forward. My hands worked their way up, and my left hand reached his nipples. I slowly circled one, around and around. I felt its bumps, felt the bumps on his flesh. "I'm getting to know you," I said, as my hand felt along each of his ribs. "I'm getting to know what belongs to me." My hand felt along the indentation in his torso under his nipples, up along the bit of fat below it.

"Mmmmmm," I moaned as I dug my face into his neck, biting into the delicate skin, the warmth surrounding my face. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing there, the sweat on him. My hands felt his labored breath. As my left hand continued to work its way around his nipples, by own desire slowly building, I brought out my right hand out from under his shirt, placed it on the back of his head, and turned it to face me. Our noses were almost touching. We could feel each others' breath, each others' smell. I looked into his blue eyes and saw how wide they were with fear.

"How does it feel to be my property?" I asked.

The boy didn't say anything. He tried to turn his head, but my hand held firm.

"Answer me," I said sternly. "How. Does. It. Feel?"

"I," he said, and his voice caught on a lump. He coughed, then, a small boy cough, a rush of air against my face.

"Well?" I said.

"I'm not your property," he said.

I ignored the comment. Holding the back of his scalp with my right hand, I brought my head forward and kissed him on the lips, lingering. His hat fell off. I pulled away just a centimeter, my breath falling on his face. "Open your mouth," I said.

He shook his head.

"Open your mouth!" I shouted as a command, and his eyes widened microscopically. He opened his mouth and I plunged in, my tongue feeling around its inside, along his tongue, the roof of his mouth, his teeth. I buried my face in his, sucking on his tongue and his lips, biting lightly, sometimes going up to his nose but always back to his mouth. At one point I got one of his hairs in my mouth, I pulled back and removed it, and then again brought our faces together. My hunger carried me forward, and I turned his body around to face mine completely, still holding his head against mine, my other hand now on his back, along his shoulder blades, my legs hooked around his. I fell forward, the boy underneath me against the dirt, the back of his head now held against the leaves and the hardened mud. I kept sucking, feeling around with my tongue, while one of my hands found its way to his crotch, started to feel against his penis. That was when he finally started fighting.

It was a small thing at first, trying to move away from my hand when it got to his nether regions, but then he started to push it away, to try to move his legs to squirm out from under me. I moved my head up, my tongue still out, still poking against his nose. "Oh," I mumbled to him, breath falling on his sweaty face, "are you going to start fighting?"

My hand started to reach down, ignoring his protests, unzipping his jeans. The boy panicked, and all the strength the eight-year-old could muster came out against me. He tried to kick, to push my hands away with his. One of his hands came up and started to push against my face, its fingers pushing against anything they could find, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. I opened my mouth and took some of his fingers in, then I reached up and grabbed his wrist, holding the little hand there as I sucked on the fingers. The boy shrieked in rage, doubled over kicking and twisting and trying to get out from under me. The rope fell off his ankle, but I'd never tied that knot very well.

A grabbed his two arms with one of my hands and held them behind his back. He tried to kick, to squirm out, but it wasn't working. I kissed him on the lips and then, with his hands held behind him, undid his belt. He shrieked again, kicking wildly as his belt buckle came out and then I fumbled with the button. He was literally swinging his hips back and forth as I kept trying to grab the button and push it through the button hole. Finally I did it, and then I undid the zipper. I cupped his balls briefly and he yelled again, twisting madly, unable to get out from my grip. But I couldn't easily get his jeans off with him kicking like this.

I let go of the boy's arms and went to his legs, grabbing them to make them still. The boy started climbing on my back, landing some punches on me, and it hurt a little bit, so I swung out and hit him in the face, sending him sprawling. Then I undid the laces on his sneakers, revealing small feet in beautiful white socks, and I took off the socks. His feet were twisting, trying to get out, but I enjoyed the definition of his ankles, the little bones leading to each toe.

Then I stood up, still holding on to his ankles, boy suspended upside down. I grabbed the cuffs of his jeans and held on to them, swinging him up and down. His hands were flying every which way, trying to land a punch on my legs, but the boy started sliding out of his pants and landed on the ground in a crunch. His glasses had fallen off.

Now he just had his underwear and his shirt. He tried to scurry away, but I grabbed his legs and knelt down again, feeling the definition of his muscles. I felt his inner thighs, felt his lower legs as they tried to kick, the muscles struggling against me. I felt the tendons as he strained them again and again. My hands moved along his legs, his feet, and I worked my way up.

Eventually my head reached his crotch. Holding his body in place with my hands, I reached down for a smell. His tiny hands had come back, trying to push me away, their moist warmth up against my cheeks, pushing. I brought my hands under his shirt and started to pull up, forcing his arms up, removing it. He was still wearing a T-shirt, and I grabbed that, and pulled it up too.

The boy had a well-defined stomach lightly curving out from his torso. His torso was evenly distributed, and his chest was not much wider than his waist. I thrust my face into his stomach, pushing in on the warmth and the fleshiness, licking into his belly button. He was still pushing on me, so I reached out and slapped him, and he fell back again against the dirt. Now I pulled off his underwear and I saw his small cock.

I cupped it and licked it. But it was not what I wanted now.

The boy was on his back, his face a little bit red, dirt and leaves sticking to his backside. I turned him over, brushed off some of the dirt, and went for his ass.

My index finger was first, pushing against it. I felt him squirming but my weight was on his legs and they couldn't kick out. He was trying to turn over, trying to protect his backside, but he couldn't do it. The finger kept pushing on it, and the muscles were slowly giving way as they had to. I stopped being gentle and started to really shove in. I could feel it penetrate, and then there wasn't anything to hold it out and it went in deep. The boy gasped, his pelvis thrusting forward, trying to escape it, but it was no good. His fingers raked against the ground, pulling up tufts of grass. His toes scrunched together, and his feet kicked out, hitting the dirt.

My finger moved in-and-out and side-to-side, exploring the tight hole, expanding it. Then came the second finger, widening it further. The boy was just moaning and moaning. His right hand balled into a first, and as my second finger went in he started punching the ground, hitting it again and again in his pain.

Then I removed my fingers and finally unzipped my fly.

My cock, hard beyond all measure, started to fight for entry. The boy screamed, and I pushed, and pushed, and the boy screamed, arcing his back, hands pushing against the ground. "Yaaaaaaaargh!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty wilderness. His legs tried to kick back at me, but I was on top of them and he had no leverage. In I pushed, and in. And then it started to enter, and I felt his tight sphincter pulsing against my cock, and the boy screamed again and collapsed, started crying, a constant crying, as my cock went deeper and deeper.

It took a long time, but soon I was in the fleshy and moist ass, the cock mixed with his insides. I lay against the boy, his breathing and crying rocking against me, his back dripping with sweat from exertion, his limbs limp. I felt his sweat against my chest as I lay on him. Then I started to pump my cock in and out, and the crying intensified, and through the crying the boy let out a new yell of pain and rage and frustration, his head rising up into my chest hair to do it.

Now I was in my rhythm, in and out, back and forth, the crying a constant backdrop, my pulsing in rhythm with his crying, his body twisting side-to-side as I kept coming in. I don't know how many minutes we stayed like that, him crying, me in and out of his ass. But eventually I came, and I yelled from pleasure as the boy yelled from pain, his yell emerging again from the constant crying, and I collapsed on top of him, both of us exhausted for very different reasons.

For a minute I just lay there, the boy underneath me, still crying but now quietly into the ground. Although I was much heavier than him, I still felt his breath push me up, and then down as he released.

I rolled off him eventually, and then I took his body and pushed it so his head and chest lay on my chest. I stroked his back then, an endless smoothness, his skin like a sheet of warm, damp silk. My hand came up to his head and gently removed a dried leaf, and then I stroked his hair which was covered in sweat. I looked at his face, streaks from tears through dirt and dust and mud. One of my fingers came up and with the back of the finger I stroked his cheek.

"You are mine," I whispered contentedly.

The boy lay there, too tired to do anything else but breathe and close his eyes. For a few minutes, I lay in bliss.

"Derek!" I said after some time, my hand still stroking his hair. The eyes opened. Again they took in their surroundings.

"Derek!" I said again, and slapped his cheek lightly. Finally he replied. "Ya?"

"Clean off my penis," I said.

The boy looked at me blankly. He sat himself up. "With what?"

I laughed. Of course he didn't know what I meant yet. "With your mouth," I said.

He paled, then. Shook his head.

"Derek," I said. "You are mine. If you don't do what I tell you, it will be worse."

The boy looked at me, his eyes wide, his face still pale. But then he moved towards my cock, and slowly, delicately, he stuck out his tongue to clean it off.

"Swallow what's on there," I said, and lay back as he did his work.

When the boy was done, he sat back. I could tell that he thought of running, but he knew I'd probably catch him. We'd get to that eventually.

"Let's go," I said. I stood up. The naked boy stood up too, and we started walking, leaving the pile of his clothes behind.

What we got to was a lake. "We should wash up," I said. "Take off my clothes for me."

Slowly, at first, but then with more certainty, he did. His small, delicate fingers brushed against my body. When we were both naked, I waded into the water, boy in tow.

The water was cool but not cold. Once we were both in, I started running my hands along Derek's body, through his hair, along his face, in his ass, cleaning him off. He was almost like a limp rag doll, not interested in fighting now. I gently ran my finger along the line of his eyebrows, or I'd hold his hand in mine, or I'd stroke his thigh in the water. Every so often, I'd stop to just hold him close, or I'd kiss him, and then continue wiping off the dirt.

"Oh Derek," I whispered, my mouth almost right up against his ear. "You're so beautiful." I took his earlobe into my ear, sucking on it gently, biting lightly. I reached down and lifted him up easily in the water, pulling him close. Leaning down a little bit, my mouth opened, and he got the message, opening his mouth too. We kissed again, our bodies pressed together in the clear water.

I came out of the kiss, still leaning my head, my forehead pressed against his own warm forehead. "Kiss me back," I said. "Stick your tongue into my mouth. Suck on my tongue. Do what I'm doing." Again I moved in on his mouth, again I started to kiss him, but he didn't respond. So my hand, still holding it, pinched his butt cheek in warning, and then he started to respond, sucking on my tongue, sticking his own out to be sucked, our two tongues playing and intertwining together.

"Hold me close," I said between kisses. "Put your arms on my back. Stroke it." We moved back together, our bodies interwoven. After a minute or so, I took one of his hands and maneuvered it to my under-water cock, wrapping his fingers around it, and I moved it in a back-and-forth motion, so as we kissed he masturbated me.

Eventually I'd had enough, so we went back to shore. Dripping wet, our feet quickly accumulated dirt from the ground and left wet footprints. "You did well," I told him.

It was getting dark, so I took him back to the campground I had prepared. We watched the sunset together, boy in my arms. I showed him how to get a fire going and taught him some fire safety. We ate some of the food I'd brought. And then we went to bed under the stars, a boy breathing lightly in my arms. Before I feel asleep, I warned him not to try to run. He would suffer for it, I said.

***

The next day, of course, he'd run away. I called his name but he did not come.

What the boy didn't know is that we were on an island, and it wasn't very large: it had a small lake but little else, and it wouldn't take me long to find him. In fact, he was exactly where I expected him to be, trying to get my boat to work, unable to enter a password to make the motor start. The boy hadn't noticed me yet. From a distance, I saw that he had also gotten his clothes back.

"I warned you," I said when I was close enough to block his exits.

The boy turned to me in shocked fear. His mouth was hanging open. He stood there silently, then seemed to gather his wits about him. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

I walked toward him. He panic mounted, and I saw his eyes dart around for an escape route. "I won't do it again," he said.

"No," I said, roughly grabbing his arm, "I don't think you will."

I started pulling him then, back toward the campground, but not before removing a bag of implements from the boat. I pulled him, his shoes sliding along the dirt. "Please," he kept saying. "Please, I'll do anything. Don't hurt me."

We got back to the campground and I threw him roughly against the tree. "Undress," I called. He did, quickly, and stood before me. His whole body was shaking with fear: his stomach, his nipples, his ball sack were all heaving up and down. His knees shook at an incredible speed.

"Turn around and bend over," I called. "Hold on to that tree." Still shaking, the boy obeyed.

"Please don't hurt me," he said, starting to cry again.

I went into his ass full-bore.

The boy was rocking back and forth, his arms bending against the pressure as my cock penetrated further and further in. Eventually his arms gave way against my weight and his face and then his body were pressed against the rough trunk of the tree as I went in deeply, grunting. "AH-NAAAA-AHH-AH-EEEH", he yelled, his head stuck between my body and the tree. "NEEEEE" he shouted as my weight started to push his cock and balls against the bark. I went in as deeply as I could, destroying his insides, and finally came. I pulled back, and the boy collapsed to the ground.

I saw the small cuts on his face and chest and belly from the tree bark. There were still indentations in his skin.

"Lick it clean," I said. He looked up at me then, but he knew what I could do to him. He obeyed, and my cock was cleaned by his tongue.

Then I had him stand up and walk to a nearby part of the clearing, bringing my bag with me. I had him hold up his hands, measured the right height, and took out handcuffs to attach him to the branch above him. Then I picked the boy up and slid him along the branch until its height was so that he had to be on tiptoes to touch the ground. I hammered in a nail to hold the handcuffs at this height, and Derek hung there, limply.

"Please," he said, and I reached down to tie his ankles together.

"No," I said sharply. "You disobeyed me and you tried to escape. You are mine. You are property. This is what happens to boy slaves who disobey their masters."

The boy hung the air for about ten minutes while I went out of his vision. "Open your mouth," I said when I returned. He did, probably expecting that he would be kissed.

Instead, I shoved something in and then put on a gag that would prevent him from biting down or spitting it out. "What you have in your mouth," I said, "are some worms. They're going to crawl around in there until they die in your mouth, or wherever they end up." The boy made some sound from behind his gag, but if they were words I couldn't make them out. He started to struggle with the handcuffs, his body swinging back and forth. I slapped his balls. "Stop it!" I said, and he quieted.

I grabbed his balls. "Such a nice boy," I said. Massaging his balls, I came up to his face, running some of his hair through my mouth, licking at his cheeks and his earlobe. "You know," I whispered, "you really are a beautiful boy." I squeezed his balls and heard another cry, muffled by worms and the gag. "You ever disobey me again, and it will be even worse than what's about to happen to you." Another squeeze.

I licked one of my fingertips and ran it across some of the cuts from the tree. "So beautiful. Such a shame to mark you up. Think about how much I hate leaving marks on your body, Derek. Don't make me do it again." I gave a quick punch to his belly, and I heard an exhale of breath through his nose. Then I grabbed his hair and forced his head up to look in my eyes. "Now it begins."

I grabbed some weights and clipped them to his nipples. He tried to turn to the side but I held him steady. Then I took some other weights to attach to his balls and strung them on. He was moaning now, sounds of pain emerging from his muffled mouth. Then I went around to his backside, so much abused, and took out a dildo. In it went, deep. I moved it around in circles for a bit, truly exploring, then left it jammed in.

I came around to his front side and let loose another punch on his stomach. He rocked back, his feet flying a foot off the ground, and then his body swung back and forth. The weights rocked back and forth with him, pulling on him. He cried out constantly, tears flowing down his face. I licked them up with my tongue.

Then I got out the whip. First I sent some swipes to his backside, then to his front. I started to let them fall at random, hitting his thighs, his arms, his chest, his back, and his balls. The boy was constantly screaming. I have no idea what that did for those worms, but I imagined they were probably still alive and crawling around in there.

Finally I stopped. I wanted the marks to heal as quickly as possible, and the boy was in plenty of pain. He hung there, staring at me, his eyes following my every move, the tears still flowing. I came up to him and felt down his chest and stomach, feeling along the wounds, and he flinched at the touch. I worked my way down to his balls, where I gave one of them a flick with my index finger. He grunted.

"You're going to hang here until nightfall," I said, watching his terrified eyes. "If you ever disobey me again, it will be at least three days that you hang. You have no way off the island, you know that by now. If you want to live, you'll do as I tell you."

"Oh," I added. "Two more things."

The first was a ring around his cock to prevent him from peeing until I let him down.

The second was a spray bottle of lemon juice. I sprayed it all along his body where the welts and wounds were. Then I just let him hang and let the lemon juice dry while I took out a book and read.

It was a lazy day. I took a swim in the lake and I read my book. I took some photos of the hanging boy. When I was bored, I would go and slap his balls or punch his tummy, or give him a few lashes, or reapply the lemon juice. His crying had eventually stopped, of course, but I could bring it out again if I wanted to.

About five hours in, I decided that I might as well put some of the time to good use. He'd nodded off a bit, somehow, so I slapped him awake.

"All right, boy," I said. "Focus up, because if you want this punishment to end today you better listen closely to what I'm going to tell you." I paused. The boy's head was hanging down, and his jaw was slack. I reached up and held his chin, moving his head to face me. The eyes were unfocused.

So I slapped him. "LISTEN UP!" I yelled. I reached down with my hand and cupped his balls. That got him to look at me. "You want this to end?"

He stared at me, and I could see the words get processed. He nodded.

"I'm about to teach you something. Learn it, and this ends. Don't learn it, and I could leave you here for days. You want me to leave you here for days?"

He shook his head rapidly.

"So focus. I'm going to teach you to suck my cock. You know what a cock is?"

"Nah," he tried to say through his gagged mouth.

"A cock is a penis. It's this," and I pointed to mine. "Sucking it means you take it in your mouth and suck it like a lollipop. But if you want it to feel good for me, there are special things you have to do." I paused again. "Do you want it to feel good for me?"

Derek stared at me. I could see him slowly understanding each word. Then he nodded.

"Good answer," I said. "Here's how you make it feel good so that you won't be up here again. The most important thing is what you do with your tongue. You want to run it across the cock, gently, letting it get me excited. It's hard to take in a whole penis in your mouth. It'll take you a while to get good at it. But you can use your tongue to make up for that."

"The second thing," I said, "is not to just sit there sucking on it. Move your head back and forth, and move your tongue back and forth. Sometimes you want to let it out of your mouth and lick it with your tongue, or you want to take one of my balls into your mouth instead of my cock and suck on it for a while. Change it up, so it doesn't get boring for me."

"The third thing," I said, "is not to move too much. Go gently, go slowly. Going too fast means I can't enjoy the feeling."

"The fourth thing," I said, "is called deep throating. By the time you finish me off, I want to feel my whole cock in your mouth. It'll make you gag. Do it anyway. You don't have to hold it for long."

"The fifth thing," I said, "is to swallow what comes out."

"Finally," I said, "I never want to feel your teeth. Whatever you have to do, try to keep them from touching my skin."

I paused. "You got it?" I asked. The boy looked at me, and nodded.

"Tonight, when you're down, you're going to suck my cock. You do good, you can stay down. You do badly," I said, pausing for emphasis and speaking each word slowly, "I might put you back up." His eyes widened. "Think about how to do it well. Take the next few hours while you're up here and practice it in your mind." I walked up to him, our faces against each other. "It's better than worms in your mouth," I said.

Then I left him again to see how much he could absorb. I'd repeat it later in the day. The boy had gone up there at about 9am. He had plenty more hours left being suspended from that branch.

Eventually, it was time. The sun was starting to set. I came up to him, gave a last swat to his balls, and said, "When I release you, don't remove anything yourself. Anything we take off, I take off, you understand?"

He nodded. His eyes just looked at me, sunken holes of fear and despair. I reached up and opened the handcuffs, one hand, and then the other.

The boy collapsed to the ground, the weights still attached, the gag still on, his ankles still tied together. I can only imagine the pain from the weights as he crashed down, as the blood rushed back to his arms. I heard a hoarse squeal muffled through the gag. I let him lay there a minute, weights and all still there. Then I untied his ankles, reached under his armpits, and stood him up, the weights jangling back and forth. He swayed; I held him close, leaning him against me. Eventually he seemed to be able to stand.

"Lean over," I said, and he did. I undid the gag on his mouth and he spit out the now dead worms. "Nice job," I said. "You probably would've gotten sick if you'd swallowed them." I took out a bottle of Listerine and made him gurgle it and then I had him drink some water to clear his mouth.

I got a large jug and took off his cock ring. The stream of piss came out almost immediately into the jug. He'd been bottled up for a while. Finally the steaming yellow liquid was out.

"Drink it," I said. His eyes widened again. "YOU. ARE. MINE." I said. "Drink it."

He did. It was a lot. It took him a while to get it down. Then more Listerene.

Finally, I removed the nipple weights, and I heard him moan. Then the ball weights. He seemed to almost collapse when that happened.

"Now," I said, lying back, my fleet splayed out. "Let's see what you learned. Suck my cock."

The boy, going from one disaster to another, had no choice. He knelt down, his pale white and red skin creasing at his joints. Then he crawled to where I was laying, and he opened his mouth, and he took it in. The job was far from perfect. But I didn't feel much of his teeth, and as I reminded him to use his tongue, he did. He sucked on my balls too, and ran his tongue along my shaft, and when I felt myself about to come I grabbed his head and shoved it down the cock, streaming out my sperm into the gagging boy.

I had him lick up what he spilled.

Finally, I had him build up a fire like he'd learned last night. When it was roaring and huge, I had him go pick up his clothing where I'd ripped it off this morning. One item at a time, I ordered him to feed them into the fire. First his shirt, which he tossed in and we watched light up. Then his sneakers. His socks. His pants. And finally we watched the fire burn his underwear, the last vestiges of what had been a normal life. The naked boy would never wear normal clothing again.

Then, finally, I let him eat. And I went to bed with him on my chest. When I woke up, he was still there.

"Suck my cock," I said as I woke up.

He did.

***

I had taken a week off work for the first trip. The island, about a hundred miles offshore and owned by an oil conglomorate, wasn't going to see anyone visiting it. So I trained the boy not just in how to give me pleasure, but also in how to live on the island with the food supplies I would bring every weekend. We made a shelter. I taught him to purify water. Made sure he could make a fire reliably. That he could open my cans of food. Soon he had the tools necessary to live.

I also taught him how to give me pleasure. How to suck, how to give me a handjob, how to kiss. How to walk to be more provocative. How to cuddle, how to sit on my lap. He learned what he needed to know.

At the end of the week, I left him food, I left him some kiddie porn, and I left him a charged iPod filled with more child porn. It would run out of batteries, but it was something. For reading, I left him with printouts of man/boy stories from online. I told him there would be a test. He lived alone on the small island, no human contact, just him and the porn and the trees.

I came the next weekend, and as instructed he came when called and he knelt to welcome me. We had some excellent sex to begin the weekend. I brought him s'mores as a treat.

I gave him that test.

• "Assume 'control position one' from Sorcerer's Apprentice.
• In Gabriel's Nightmare, Gabriel is forced to act like an animal at a party. Act like that animal for the next five minutes.
• Here are a bunch of items. In one of the pictures I gave you, one of these instruments was up a kid's ass. Put the same one up your ass.
• One of the videos I gave you featured a boy dancing. What was he dancing to?
• Now, do the same dance, including all the parts where he touches the man."

Derek did better than I expected, so he'd clearly looked at the stuff. But he hadn't studied it, and he got less than half of the questions correct. I was pleased enough that I only gave him a light whipping and a hard fucking, and when he slept cuddled up to me I made him sleep with a dildo in his ass that I'd give a shake every time I woke up. I told him that if he didn't pass the test next week, he'd really suffer.

The weekend was over too soon. Again I left him with food and some new porn and an iPod.

***

The next weekend, everything seemed to be going well. He passed a new test with only one wrong answer. (He missed "Here are a bunch of clothing items. Put on the one that the kids would likely wear in Kiddie Treatment." But, after he messed that up, he did very well with "Imagine you are one of the boys in Kiddie Treatment and act like they would after my next word. XANADU." So, he'd read the story at least.) He did so well that weekend that I was actually surprised when, the second night, I woke up and he was gone again. He'd tried for the boat. Again I found him in the morning and dragged him back.

"Please," he said, crying. "I couldn't help it. I've learned my lesson, I won't try again."

Again I hung the boy up. I attached the weights (but not the cock ring or dildo – he was going to be hanging too long for me to block his pee). I left his mouth open at first so I could hear his screams and begging and crying as I punched him and slapped his balls. I could really let loose, since there'd be plenty of time for bruises to heal. I brought out the whip and I let loose all over his body, the weights flapping back and forth as he tried to twist to avoid it. I'd stop whipping him, kiss him deeply, fondle his cock, and then start whipping again. He passed out once, and I woke him up with a splash of water. The boy's eyes were in a haze, barely comprehending, and then it continued. Again. And again. And again.

When I was finally done, I covered him in lemon juice and enjoyed the view: a screaming boy, his body involuntarily shuddering in pain at the acid along his wounds, the weights swinging back and forth to make the pain worse.

It was almost time to go, and his punishment was not nearly done. I left him hanging there for the whole week. I strapped up a bottle of sugar water that could drip into his mouth, so he'd survive. Then I took some wet birdseed and slathered it all over his body.

Before I left, I hung up several porn photos where the hanging boy could see them. "Don't think there won't be a test," I said.

I can't know for sure what that week was like for the boy. I know that he hung there, his feet barely touching the ground, because that's how I found him. I know that he must have slept even though he couldn't lie down, since I was gone for five days. I know that while he hung there, hour after hour, day after day, the birds found him and fed off off him, because I saw the marks their beaks left, especially on his ballsack, and there was no more birdseed on him.

I also know that on Thursday there was a thunderstorm, and he hung there on the island while the thunder and lightning and sheets of rain came down upon him. The storm came during the night, and the weather report it lasted for six hours, while the boy hung.

I came back to find my boy hanging limply from the branch. His hair was matted down from the rain, except for a tuft that had been blown up by the wind. There were specks of mud dotting his white skin, no doubt washed on during the storm. A wet leaf was plastered to his shoulder, and a small twig was on his legs. His toes were caked in mud. His normally smooth skin was pocked with small red indentations where birds had pecked at him. I came up to the hanging boy, pulled his head up with his hair, and kissed him deeply. His mouth was parched; the bottle must have run out. His eyes were still unfocused, but even though I don't think he was fully aware of where he was, he responded and he kissed me back. When I was satisfied, I cut him down and he sprawled on the ground.

That weekend, Derek was as subservient as possible. He obeyed everything I told him to do. I never had another major problem with him.

***

It became his life. A week alone on a small island, free to roam if he hadn't misbehaved. Studying child porn of all kinds and then reliving it through my tests. Then a weekend of sex and obedience. Each week, he sits, he sleeps, he eats, maybe he swims. But to entertain him, there's only what I leave him, and that is porn and a dildo. Five days of the most intense boredom and he is almost happy to see me when I come. Almost.

Once a year, I give him a cumulative 'final exam' where he must study all the porn he's seen so far. He does well. And sometimes I take a full week off to spend it with him.

Derek has been my island slave for three years now. Most weekends I go to visit him, and I've occasionally brought friends. He remembers the outside world. He remembers what his life was like once, the freedom, school, his own friends. You can see the memories in his eyes. But he knows that world is lost to him. This island that he lives on, this man that visits him once a week, that's all he has. And so he makes do with it, and I fuck him, and he endures.

The End